#sit silently crying for hours until my headphones die.

[intertexts]

more people on my dash posting about mcr5 than there were the election Oh my god. closing website for now i think.

[softspace-fics]

Homework

Masterlist - all my work!

A/N - Hi everyone! First off I'm sorry for not posting for a few days, I haven't been feeling well and schools been alot especially now that I have a job. I also want to say thank you so much for the reblogs and follows recently, I couldn't be more greatful that you guys are enjoying my fics! Please enjoy this next one as well.

Warnings ⚠️: invoulintarily regression, reader has anxiety/panic attack, Stucky helps reader to get through the attack.

Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x GN!little reader

_______________

You slam your pencil onto the desk before throwing your head back in frustration as the homework sits there heavy on your desk. You'd been staring at it for hours and every time you attempted to do it, everything would just blur and your regression would began to spiral further and further.

It had been a extremely long day with starting a new job, and college exams coming up soon, which means you were stressed beyond belief and nothing was helping. You had music going through your headphones, it only did so much to help you focus. 

Your caregivers weren't here as they were on a mission for the last month and youve been completely isolated due to college and your job and everything else inbetween.

You shakily pick up your pencil again as silent tears fall from your eyes and you feel sick trying to get these stupid notes done. You get through a few sentences before you feel the pencil taken from you and your headphones carefully taken off of your ears and your chair spun around.

You freak and almost smack whoever is touching you until you see Bucks face and every emotion you've kept inside breaks and you fall into his arms balling.

Bucky carefully but quickly picks you up, shushing you and repeatedly reminding you, your safe and loved. Gentle kisses were placed all over your head and your tears were wiped as you continued to sob into him.

Steve is next to you guys, rubbing your back, trying not to cry himself. Bucky and him came into the apartment and with your headphones being on, they could hear your tiny sniffles the moment the door was open. They immediately took off their shoes and put their bags down, before practically running down the hallway to find you.

When they saw the homework scattered all around the desk and your sitting form almost crumpled in, they knew you weren't doing okay, and swooped in to help.

They walked around with you crying for about a hour, ranting about everything, the exhaustion of how you feel starting to feel lighter after having the two people that mean the most to you back with you. 

Steve and bucky help get you into more comfortable clothes, sliding a pacifier into your lips as your tears die down and you begin to completely regress invoulintarily. You mumble around your pacifier about the homework, and bucky just gently shushes you and tells you they’ll help you do it tomorrow. 

Homework was the worst and there was times where everything feels like it's crushing around you but at least you had your caregivers to help crack down the walls you make and to help you out into the open. 

Steve takes you out to the living room while bucky gets some food made for you three, and holds you close as your tucked safely under his chin, watching cartoons. 

After the duo made sure you were fed well and had your bottle, you all eventually fell asleep on the couch, your favorite movie on and in the safedy of the two people who knew you best and loved you even more.

[justkeepwalkingnothinghere]

1 year. 1 year. Wow. Has it really been that long? Has it really been that long since The Owl House bid us farewell? Since the final "Byeee!" that was heard 'round the world? We learnd the story of The Collector, we saw Luz die and get revived, we met Papa Titan. That night, every last one of us got the opportunity to witness Luz, Eda, King and Raine all come together to kick Belos's ass and take him down once and for all. We all watched as every last character came together to build a brighter future for the Boiling Isles. It was an emotional night for everyone. All of that was 1 year ago. And it's hard for me to believe. It doesn't feel real.

To this day, I can still recall how my night went. My parents were at my aunt and uncle's wedding. Adults only, small ceremony in their backyard, I could understand. Only problem is that it left me with no other option but to stay at home, alone with my thoughts, dread, worry and fear over the finale as the minutes ticked by. Waiting until the world would say byeee to a show like no other. At 5 in the afternoon, what would become the most emotional night of my life began with me going to my music, and listening to Lacrimosa on loop for 45 minutes. I listened as I went through Reddit, Tumblr, Discord, YouTube, seeing everyone get ready to watch the finale that I don't think anyone was ready for. I made one last post here wishing everyone good luck before I cut myself off from Tumblr for the rest of the night, not wanting to get any spoilers, as I was waiting until Easter morning to watch it myself. I decided to watch a bit of YouTube to maybe clear my mind and cheer me up, especially once I saw Zeez Vov Gee's TOH video contest was up. I had made a submission of my own, so I was excited to find out if mine had made it in (it did not, sadly). By the time I had finished watching, it was 8:20. 5 minutes away from air time. So, I said good luck to some friends in a TOH Discord I'm in, muted said server until the morning, and was about to switch to watching something else, as YouTube was also a no go. Until a farewell video appeared in my feed. I watched it, being met with the chorus of the song "As The World Caves In".

And I watched it again. And again. And again. One last viewing, this time singing along to the chorus in the literal seconds before the finale aired. A fitting event that was unintentionally timed to perfection. Couldn't have given a better last second send off if I wanted to. For nearly the entirety of the finale's runtime, I listened to the full song on loop, singing along, crying at the thought of getting a hug from Luz as it was really the only thing I wanted then, doing literal shots of milk, sitting and walking while everything swirled within me. Before long, it was past 9, and I hadn't eaten dinner. Stouffer's meatloaf and mashed potatoes. And you wanna know what I did? I ate it while venting to this claymation mouse. Just the two of us, enjoying our meals. For a bit, it felt like that mouse was listening as he chomped down on his chocolate. It was oddly nice. I at least got a break from my anxiety. Turning to dessert, a mini double chocolate bundt cake while watching 30 Rock and drawing glyph doodles, a pleasure that lasted for a short while before my parents made their eventual return. At 11 o'clock at night.

But my entertainment wasn't over just yet. After cleanup, I still had one last thing up my sleeve. I laid on my bedroom floor, in the dark, with my phone brightness turned all the way up. Caramelldansen played through my headphones as the strobe lights danced on the ceiling, getting in one last silent breakdown before heading to bed. My night had concluded after many hours of nothing but dread and anxiety, me constantly trying to keep myself sane. My parents and I had McDonald's for breakfast the next morning, witnessing a masterpiece of animation. And I was happy at the end! Belos was dead, the coven system erradicated, everyone was at the best places in their lives! It was peace and love in the Boiling Isles! How could I not be happy about that? Unfortunately, the joy wouldn't last long. Things settled in soon enough. At first, it felt like the show wasn't over yet. It felt like there were still some stories to tell. But the reality set in before I knew it and I was left sad. I kept thinking about how much the show meant to me, to many. All it had done for me in the handful of months that I had known it. I still wasn't ready for it's end.

Nowadays, a year later, I still haven't fully recovered. This time around feels a bit dark. My 2024 has been nothing but a mess so far, although I am getting through it. But with such a stark contrast to where I was last year, I can't help but feel like things are too different. Almost like a royal fallen from grace. Life in itself hasn't felt the same since Watching and Dreaming. I can't bring myself to watch it again. Today feels weird, and I'm probably not alone. Wherever your emotions stand on this anniversary, just rememeber this:

Us weirdoes have to stick together.

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 29: Happiest Place on Earth (Vacation/Roadtrip)

AO3

Prev

Marinette blinks at her dad, trying to make sense of what he’s saying.

“B, you have a private jet. Why the fuck are we driving?” Jason asks, and Marinette swears his eye twitches.

“I thought it would be nice to do a family vacation the normal way, complete with a road trip.” Her dad says and Marinette frowns. Now? Now is when he decides to be normal?

“Father, we can not all leave. Someone must stay behind to patrol and watch over Gotham. As much as it pains me, I will stay.” Damian says, and Marinette resists the urge to whack him. It wasn’t going to hurt him at all to get to stay, he was doing it on purpose. She wanted to go on vacation with her brothers and dad and Selina, but she also wasn’t sure she wanted to deal with them being so close to her for over fifteen hours in an enclosed vehicle.

“No need. Clark said he would make sure to listen for any extreme trouble, Stephanie and Barbara will still be here, and if all else fails we’ll use the Zeta tubes to get back.” Her dad says, his tone filled with finality. This was serious. He was really going to do this to them.

“Well, I’ll drive the second car. And I call Pix-”

“We don’t need to take two vehicles, Jason. Selina and I went out and bought a new car that will seat all of us perfectly, and there’s plenty of room in the back for luggage.” He says, and Marinette makes eye contact with Damian. His face says ‘fix this’, but all she can do is shrug. There was no way she was going to be able to save all of them from this one. Their dad looked way too determined. Alfred had somehow managed to plan his own trip to England to line up perfectly with their trip, which meant he was saved from the inevitable horror the trip would bring.

---

Marinette was willing to bet that her dad had never been on a road trip before. She honestly doubted he’d ever seen a movie with a road trip before, because if he had, they would most definitely not be on one. Even movies with road trips show how awful they are. Sure, the family is smiling by the end, but that’s because they’ve come up with a foolproof murder plan. Marinette frowns and blinks. She’d definitely been spending way too much time with Damian.

She had even tried to convince her dad to use Kaalki, even though he hated magic. In fact, Kaalki had begged as well. But no. So Kaalki was riding in the spare tire shell on the back of the car, unwilling to sit with her brothers for so long. Not that she could blame the Kwami. They were only an hour into the drive (that was scheduled to take fifteen hours and forty five minutes, not including breaks or traffic). She wasn’t too upset with the seating arrangement, but it had been calm so far. Too calm. Her dad and Selina were, of course, in the front. The next row, which also contained bucket seats, had Dick (he claimed one of the seats as the oldest) and Tim (who had to sit there because he got horribly carsick). That meant that she was stuck in the very back, sitting between Damian and Jason. But that was fine, they’d gotten along so far. They could keep it up for another fifteen hours, right?

---

They couldn’t even keep it up for another five minutes. Jason reached behind her and whacked Damian, which made him let out a battle cry, one that was way too loud for the car, before turning and attacking Jason again. She wasn’t sure how Tim was still asleep, even with his headphones on, but she supposed it was for the best. She really didn’t want to deal with her brother’s car sickness this early in the trip.

“This family is a fucking nightmare!” Jason yells, kneeing the back of Dick’s seat. Marinette glares at him and his dramatics. He was definitely trying to get their dad to turn the car around and switch to the jet. But Marinette had a feeling that instead of turning around, he’d drive even slower.

“Jay, I love you. But if you don’t stop screaming, they’ll never find your body.” Marinette whispers with a smile. Jason frowns, elbowing her gently.

“What’s wrong with you? I thought you’d be all over this shit.” He says with a huff. Marinette narrows her eyes.

“What, annoying shit?” She whispers snarkily, and Jason blinks. She frowns, until she realizes what she said. “Don’t tell dad!” She begs, latching onto Jason’s arm.

“Bruce!” Jason yells. Marinette yelps and covers his mouth.

“Jason, I am begging you not to do this.” She says, making eye contact with her dad in the rearview mirror and smiling awkwardly. “He was just guessing for, um, uh, I spy!” She yells, sighing in relief as he just nods and turns back to talk to Selina more. She’s about to give Jason an ultimatum, when he licks her hand. She gasps, yanking her hand back and wiping it on her pants with a frown.

“Karma!” Jason declares and Marinette huffs.

“No, it was just gross you mega jerk.” She says.

“Could I have the aux cord?” Dick asks suddenly. Marinette watches amusedly as Jason lunges forward to try and rip the cord from him.

“No, B, why would you give it to him?” He yells, trying to reach it, but unable to because of the seatbelt.

“I think you’re old enough to take turns, Jason. It’s not the end of the world letting Dick use the aux cord.” Dad says, and Dick cheers, plugging the cord into his phone. It’s completely silent for a moment, before ABBA suddenly blasts through the speakers. Marinette turns to Damian, her face stuck in a deadpan expression.

“I know you have a knife. Kill me, please. Or at least stab me badly enough that we have to stop.” She instructs, her eye twitching as Dick starts singing off key.

“If I had two, I would. But I refuse to allow you to escape this hell and leave me to deal with it by myself. If I am stuck here, ukht, then so are you.” Damian says, his tone just as flat.

“Nuh uh. Either all of the resurrected bitches get to die, or none of us do.” Jason pipes up and Marinette sighs.

“Completely unfair, but whatever.” She says, as a horrible thought suddenly crosses her mind. “Oh my god.” She says.

“What?” Damian asks. She pinches the bridge of her nose, and lets out a long breath before looking at her brother sadly.

“We have to drive all the way back, too.” She says, and chaos erupts in the backseat.

---

Jason glares at Bruce in the rearview mirror, waiting for the man to look back and notice him. He finally, finally does, and Jason just grins at Bruce’s responding sigh.

“What?” He asks, and Jason frowns.

“What, can I not just glare at you for no reason?” He asks, snorting at the overly done look on B’s face. “Okay, okay. I was just gonna ask you to stop at the next gas station. I need to walk around, my legs are literally dead.” He says.

“How? I thought Marinette was lying on your legs?” B says and Jason huffs.

“Yeah, she is, but I’m also scrunched up back here because Replacement just had to have the other good seat. I have long legs, B, I’m dying.” Jason says.

“Tt. If you were dying, I would not be forced to hear your voice.” Damian snarks, not even opening his eyes. Jason opens his mouth to argue, but is stopped by a finger raising slowly into the air.

“Shhhhhhhhhhhh.” Pix says before dropping her finger back down and shifting around. Jason just rolls his eyes, trying hard not to smile at his baby sister. Maybe he could wait to walk a little longer. He leans up against the window, letting the soft noises of the car lull him to sleep.

---

Marinette Dupain Cheng was not dressed to impress as she walked into the random McDonalds, somewhere in North Carolina. Her dad had wanted to drive the whole way in one day, so at the last stop before she fell asleep, she’d changed into a pair of leggings, fuzzy socks and one of Jason’s old hoodies. Add in slides and a messy bun that could be mistaken for an abstract art exhibit, and Marinette was not willing to talk to anyone. At least, not until she had some coffee. She’s barely able to order her food before she’s following her brothers to a table in the corner. Sitting in the seat between Tim and Jason, she doesn’t even blink at the oddly stick table. It was six in the morning, the cleanliness of a table wasn’t exactly her number one priority. She narrows her eyes as Dick tries to say something to her, not quite able to comprehend his words. Just as she thinks she’s going to fall asleep on the sticky table, a huge cup is placed in her hands. The smell makes her sigh in relief before she takes a giant swig of the coffee, barely registering how hot it is.

“-nette! God, that was definitely too hot.” Dick says. Marinette blinks, the pain in her mouth finally helping her to register the fact that the coffee was too hot. Way too hot.

“Ouch.” She says quietly, eyebrows furrowing together.

“Kid, you’ve gotta be more careful.” Dick says, passing her another cup. She glances at it wearily and he sighs. “It’s a glass of ice water. It’s gonna feel a lot better than the coffee right now.”

“But, coffee.” She says and Dick gives her a look.

“It’s not going to kill you to drink the water. Now eat up. B wants to get back on the road as soon as possible.” Dick instructs and she groans at the food he passes her.

“You are such a dad.” She mumbles, picking apart the weird hash brown patty he’d passed her, eating small pieces of it.

“I officially hate road trips.” Damian says in a matter-of-fact tone. Marinette glances at him sleepily and grins.

“Just wait til we get to Disney, petit oiseau. That’ll be your own personal hell.” She promises him, snorting at the look on his face. In fact, she doubted any of the family would actually enjoy Disneyworld, given the fact Mar’i and Starfire were off planet again. Well, she knew she would enjoy it. But she doubted her brothers or dad would. Selina would enjoy it, until someone inevitably pisses her off and she steals from them and then gets in a major fight with her dad and- yeah. This was definitely one of her dad’s worst plans ever.

---

Dick insists on taking a family picture at the first rest stop inside Florida. He’s grinning at the palm trees and dolphins painted on the ‘Welcome to Florida’ sign with so much excitement, Marinette almost starts to think that this plan wasn’t awful. Almost. Because three seconds later, Damian is charging at Jason with the katana that he had somehow managed to sneak into the car. Which should have been impossible. She purses her lips as she tries to figure it out, when she sees Kaalki and the wide smile on their face.

“Did you open a portal so that Damian could get his sword and attack Jason?” Marinette asks Kaalki tiredly. She was relieved that her dad had decided they would spend the rest of the day at the hotel (once they finally got there, they were still currently stuck at that stupid welcome sign) instead of trying to go to Disney today. She was exhausted, and right now, the Kwami was not helping.

“I only helped him. He’s so small, and he is your brother, you know.” Kaalki says and Marinette snorts.

“So is the one that he’s currently trying to kill, Kaalki. But okay, sure.” She says, rubbing her face tiredly. She did not have the energy to deal with this right now. She sighs as Jason yells, turning on her heel and rushing after Damian.

“Get the fuck away!” Jason screams at Damian.

“Damian, no, drop the sword! Damian, please!” Marinette yells, rushing after him.

“Todd insists that he’s bunking with me. If he’s dead, I don’t have to worry about that.” Damian calls back, continuing rushing towards Jason. Marinette groans, running faster after him. Apparently, he was excessively crabby when tired. Joy.

---

“Do you think I could get away with wearing these all the time?” Dick asks, pointing to the Toy Story themed ears on his head.

“Might make some aspects of life a little hard.” Marinette points out with a grin as she imagines him, in his Nightwing uniform, with Toy Story ears on.

“We’d definitely amuse more villains, that’s for damn sure.” Jason adds with a smirk.

“Like yours are much better.” Dick says with a pout, pointing at Jason’s bright red Lightning McQueen ears.

“At least I’m wearing one of the better Disney characters.” Jason counters, glancing at Tim. Tim just frowns at him, sleep deprivation clear on his face.

“Goofy is one of the original Disney characters, Jason, I will not be accepting criticism.” He says flatly. Marinette giggles.

“What’re you laughing at sparkles?” Tim asks, pointing at the sparkles and huge bow attached to her ears.

“Nothing. Nothing at all, Timmy.” She says with a grin. She glances down at her watch, wondering what’s taking her dad so long. “Mo-Selina, do you think Dad’s alright?” Marinette asks, barely catching herself. She hadn’t asked Selina, or her Dad, if it was okay to call her that. And she didn’t want to be the kid to ruin the vacation. She currently had money on Jason being the one to ruin things, and she didn’t want to self sabotage that bet.

“Oh definitely. He’s probably just having trouble finding the perfect ears. After all, animal ears aren’t really his thing.” Selina teases, giving Marinette’s shoulders a quick squeeze. She grins and leans into her, content as she stands there and watches the door waiting for- yup. That was her dad. Walking out of a store, in public, with Mickey Mouse ears on his head. Oh this is amazing.

“Nice ears, B.” Jason teases and Marinette giggles. Sure, his ears were the most basic out of everyone (just plain black) but it was still hilarious to see her usually serious dad with mouse ears on his head.

“Tt. I cannot believe that you insisted we all wear them.” Damian complains, but Marinette can tell he likes his ears, even if he won’t admit it. They were Stitch themed, which was Damian’s favorite Disney movie. Really, it was one of three that she’d found that he could tolerate.

“I think you all look adorable.” Selina teases, her ears, like Marinette’s, were on a headband rather than a hat. And Selina’s were white with a veil. Marinette adored them.

“Can we please go get some coffee at Friar Nook’s?” Tim asks, looking dead on his feet. She frowns, slightly worried. They’d only been at the park for half an hour and he was already ready to pass out?

“Did you not sleep at all last night?” She asks, her tone slightly teasing but still concerned for him.

“Blame Dick. He snored all. Night. Long.” Tim complains, sighing deeply. Marinette winces.

“Why don’t you switch with Jason? He can sleep through anything.” She suggests.

“Absolutely not.”

“I would rather chew off my own foot.” Tim and Damian speak at the same time, turning to glare at each other before huffing.

“Come on, let’s go do some rides or something.” Dad suggests, and Marinette agrees, trying her best to hype up her brothers. Even though she’d been wary of the trip, and she was still NOT looking forward to the trip back, she could tell her dad wanted this to go well. He was obviously trying to let them have once nice (normal) vacation together. So she was going to do her best to make sure the rest of the trip was as amazing as possible.

Next

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[omiscurls]

how these haikyuu! characters react after making you cry/feel bad

characters in question: atsumu miya, kiyoomi sakusa, tooru oikawa, tobio kageyama

warnings: one or two curse words, nothing big

part two will be linked here and will contain Eita Semi, Rintarō Suna and Kozume Kenma

Kiyoomi Sakusa 

You were probably somewhere public, like out shopping or stuff, and he really, REALLY hates going shopping. There’s so many people, it smells terribly and unfortunately, every time he somehow goes to the mall, plenty of people manage to bump into his shoulder, which pisses him off to the max. And you were there for two, very long hours. You came back to him from some sort of a shop where you bought a christmas present for someone.

“Look what I got!” you said in a cheerful way, the little bag dangling on your fingers. 

“Mhm, cool” he said, not even minding the wonderful gift you got. You were hoping he’d ask what inside, so you could hide it from him. It was in fact a gift for your precious boyfriend, and you wanted to tease him about it, knowing he’s lowkey excited for christmas. 

That wasn’t in store for today, as he was tired, annoyed to his very limits, and desperately wanted to go home. You pouted, looking at him accusingly. 

“Hey, you’re not even interested!” 

“You’re absolutely right, I’m not” he said, walking away towards the parking lot, leaving you behind, needing to catch up to him. Something stang your heart in the way he said it. Did he really not care at all? He said he’d come with you, after all, he was in such a good mood in the morning. 

“Are you mad?” you asked, way more quiet already. 

“Are you mad?” he mocked you in the most annoying, high-pitched voice he could get out of his throat, rolling his eyes. “No, it’s just that my girlfriend’s dumb and childish” he added, speeding up. 

What? 

You froze in place. Your brain kept telling you he doesn’t mean it, and he’s just stressed at the moment, he’ll most likely apologize a hundred times as soon as you get home. You knew that. You knew you had to respect and mind some things in his brain that were just made a certain way. You knew all that, and yet, it still hurted, to have all your christmas-ish atmosphere and mood ruined like that. 

But still, your common sense stopped you from causing a scene, as you quietly followed your angry boyfriend. He checked whether you were still there, because the one thing he hated more than being in shopping malls was being in shopping malls alone, but you didn’t notice, eyes fixed on your shoes, so you wouldn’t cry. 

You absolutely hated it when he raised his voice at you the way he did. It could’ve been worse, you were probably overreacting... 

You glanced over at the small bag you were carrying, and the very valuable gift you picked out, and remembered how happy you were about it a second ago. How happy you were to make him happy. 

You couldn’t stop the tears then, but managed to keep them silent, so that he wouldn’t notice. The two of you got to his car, and you still stayed quiet as he drove out of the parking lot, and onto the road. Looking at the window constantly, you managed to hide the trails of tears on your cheeks, until the moment you sobbed by complete accident. Your eyes widened, and muscles became tense, knowing you must’ve made a sound, and he must’ve heard it. 

And damn right he did, his heart immediately dropped, he thought you were just pouting about the name he called you, but obviously, OBVIOUSLY you knew he did it out of stress, right? Obviously you knew he was already planning on how to apologize, but first he needed to calm down, so that he wouldn’t do anything stupid again. 

But there you were, crying? On his front seat? But that was one stupid name, why did you care this much? 

He sighed, and you watched in shock as he took the first place he could stop at and got out of the car, without saying a word. You thought he needed fresh air, or something, but no, he walked up to your side of the vehicle, and opened the door. 

“Come on, get up” he said, way softer than you expected him to, but you just stared at him in surprise. “Fine then” he added, when you wouldn’t move, and bent over to personally undo your seatbelt, and took your hand to help you up. 

You were now standing in front of him, with a shy expression across your face. You watched in frustration as he battled with himself what to do next, it was such a spontaneous decision that he didn’t have the time to think his apology through.

You watched him frown, run a hand through his hair in stress and play with his fingers for a while. He really sucked at apologizing, but what he sucked at even more, was physical affection. Though he really liked hugging you, under certain conditions, he didn’t feel comfortable doing that here, and after long shopping, while his nerves were all ripped apart.

Words was all he had left.

“I’m sorry” he finally said. “You know I didn’t mean that. You’re not stupid, nor are you childish. I was just stressed. Please, tell me how I can make it up to you.”

You knew, you knew he didn’t mean that, but you wished you didn’t have to. You stayed silent, and he began to panick, why didn’t you respond? He moved further away and looked you in the eyes, worry in his dark irises. 

“I really, really want to see what you got. I do. Just, let’s get home first, please?” he asked in a really soft, almost childish voice. “Come on, I’ll make dinner, how about that? I’ll try your favorite.”

And when you nodded, he sighed with relief. He’d probably die before he’d spontaneously kiss you or anything, so he was glad words worked on you. And he knew for a fact, that he never wanted to make you feel unappreciated again.

Atsumu Miya

He’s stressed before a game. The Jackals had a major fight the other day and he just knows the energy on the field won’t be as good, and he’s competing against one of his highschool rivals. 

It doesn’t help when Osamu and you tease him about the fight, claiming he was the one to cause this, even know you all know DAMN WELL it started with Bokuto and Sakusa. 

So yeah, the great Atsumu Miya is stressed. He’s afraid it will all be blamed on him, again. So he sits in the living room, draped all over your couch, huge headphones on as he plays some game on the PlayStation. 

You enter the room after coming home and smile upon seeing him in such a childlike position and activity, and you go over to the kitchen to make tea. You put one of the cups with it in front of him, waving your hand before his face. 

“Yeah, yeah, thanks” he says, gently pushing you out of his vision, so you don’t interrupt his game. You pout slightly, but smile, he looks so cute and focused. 

After a while you come back into the room, and he’s just staring at the ceiling, the controler in his hand. 

“Your tea is cold by now” you whine, looking at the cup. 

“Mhm” he only responds, not minding your comment. That irritated you slightly, but you only took the controler out of his grip, noticing the screen was already turned off, and sat on the couch. 

“Stressed you fucked up?” you giggle, slightly pushing his bangs back, wanting to kiss his forehead after, but you stop in your actions after you notice how he’s looking at you. 

“I didn’t fuck up” he states codly and slowly “I did nothing wrong! It was Sakusa and Bokuto who started the fight, all I did was try to keep them from ripping each other apart!” his voice slowly rises up, as he lifts himself up to a sitting position, betrayal forming in his eyes. He doesn’t even call his teammates Omi and Bokkun, he reffers to them with their whole surnames. “Why do you all keep assuming I’m the one who fucked up? Why does it always have to be me in your eyes, huh? You’re my girlfriend, you should know better!” he shouts, standing up, and you follow him with a worried look, not wanting to hear him yell anymore. 

“Calm down, Tsumu, I was joking of course I—” you begin, but he doesn’t let you finish, snatching away the hand you were going to put on his cheek. 

“Of course you were! All you ever do is joke about me, like I’m some kind of a fucking spectacle! Why do I even bother dealing with you?” he says in a cold manner, storming out of the room, as you’re left there, speechless, tears flowing down your cheeks. All you wanted was to change the atmosphere a bit, maybe you got to it the wrong way, but still, why did he react like that?

You slowly get yourself to leave and go to the bathroom, where you close the door behind you and slide your back against it until you reach the floor. You look at yourself in the huge mirror in front of you — were you really that terrible? That hard to deal with? 

Sobs leave your mouth uncontrollably as you think of Atsumu leaving because of such a small and irrelevant little thing. 

But he didn’t leave, he just went to the bedroom to calm down, and suddenly he feels guilty, so he tries to look for you. As you didn’t turn on the lights in the bathroom, he doesn’t check it at first, but upon hearing your cry, he freezes. 

Wait, wait, wait. You were the one to make him feel bad, not the other way around. Did he say something he doesn’t remember? Did something else happen to you and you wanted to tell him, but he didn’t let you? What happened, why is his little princess crying? 

He knocks on the door, lightly. 

“Are ya there?” he asked, as his obvious accent gets more noticeable with emotion. You don’t respond, so he kneels in fornt of the door to look wether your sitting by it. “See, I know you’re there” he says as calm as he possibly can. “Come out, please”. 

When you don’t respond again, he wants to open the door himself, as he sees it’s not locked, but he doesn’t want to seem this controlling. 

“Okay, I’ll wait” he just says instead, sitting by the door, making you two sit almost back to back. “Ya know, I’m a bit hurt myself, do ya know how difficult it is when people always assume you’re the dumb one? And then your girlfriend does, too? I know it wasn’t a big deal, I know you were joking. Just, I’m really worried about this situation, ya know?”

“I’m sorry” you whisper, and he instantly turns back, not remembering there’s a door between you. 

“Don’t be sorry, I overreacted, princess. Just, please, remember that I have feelings, too, please. I’m so, so sorry for hurting yours”

You try to open the door, and he quickly rolls away, and smiles softly upon noticing your red, wet face and swollen eyes. 

“Yer not difficult to deal with, princess. Dealing with ya is an honor” he says quietly, as he opens his arms to hug you, and wraps them tightly around you, pushing your head into the crook of his neck. “It’s okay, we’re okay” he laughs, as he presses a quick kiss on your forehead. 

You nod. 

“But really, you’re sensitive, princess” he laugh vibrantly, looking over at you. You punch him slightly on the torso. 

“Like you’re the one to talk.”

Tooru Oikawa 

You fight about his fangirls, obviously. You usually just let them be, knowing damn well your beloved boyfriend only has eyes on you, as he often jokingly states, but that one day you just weren’t feeling like yourself.

You were moody all day, walking around as if you were half dead, rude and bitter to everyone, even if it is uncharacteristical for you. Then when you meet your boyfriend after his practice, it turns out that his day wasn’t any better.

Usually you’re his best cheerleader and vice versa, but when you’re both mad, well it’s a mixture that can blow up any given moment.

He waves at you calmly from outside his locker room, walking over slowly in your direction. Usually he’d run up and give you a spin, so you instantly know he’s not in the mood for anything.

Almost mechanically he stops by you and gives you a peck on the cheek. You grab his hand and begin walking out of the building.

“All set and ready?” you ask before starting to walk again, and he simply nods. You feel the angry glances of all the girls that wish to be you, and almost tremble at the amount of hatred coming from them silently.

And then, Oikawa waves. That’s literally all he has to do for them to turn into literal angels and squeal all over the place like the annoying little shits they are, at least for you and at least that day.

You tighten the grip on his hand, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Your bad mood collapses even further as you overhear some sort of a conversation about your body, obviously not a very polite and respectful one. You press your lips into a straight line, as you two walk out of the building.

“They were annoying weren’t they?” you ask, wanting to keep some sort of a conversation with your boyfriend.

“You always find them annoying, chill already” you hear in response, glancing over at him with surprise.

“Well I’m sorry for not wanting to hear it again how I’m clumsy, and ugly, and not enough-“

“Your level of self pity is really high these days, you know that?” he states bluntly, as you feel something stinging your heart. “Relax already, geez” he then adds, letting go of your hand.

“Well then, keep relaxing by yourself” you answer in a bit, suddenly walking in a different direction than he did. You hear him shout at your back to stop doing this and come there, but you don’t care. You practically run over to your house, hot tears streaming down your face.

All you wanted was a bit of encouragement. The slightest bit of what they received, a flash of that smile, but no, all you received was coldness and bitter comments about your self esteem.

You shut the door behind you and go up to your room, not even taking off your shoes, just throwing yourself at the bed, screaming into the pillow. What a dick, you think, but also wish he was there apologizing and hugging you right now.

Why didnt he run to stop you? He was faster, he’d catch up in a second. You totally forget that he also seemed off.

Around half an hour later you hear a knock on the door, but can’t bring yourself to answer.

“I’m coming in myself if you won’t open, just to let you know!” you hear, but decide to just lay still. And as promised, your front door opens, and then the sound of footsteps echoes around the place, until you hear a small knock on the open door to your room.

“Care to look up maybe?” he asks, but you shake your head no in response.

He walks over, leaving something on your desk, and moves your chin so you’d look at him himself.

“So... your dickhead of a boyfriend is sorry” he states calmly, reaching for the flowers he left on the desk previously. Your favorites, obviously, that’s so Oikawa.

“Tell him I don’t want to talk” you answer, tilting your head to the other side. He laughs softly.

“Come on, he can’t just leave you here, mad at him! Let him make it up in some way” he says, moving you to the side of your bed so he can sit there, and lifts you up so you’d sit across from him. “Pretty pretty please, forgive me for being an asshole” he pleads, going full on puppy eyes.

You stay silent.

“Come on baby, you know you’re prettier, and smarter, and funnier than all of them at once! And the one thing you have that they obviously don’t, is my undying love!” he puts a hand over his forehead in a theatrical gesture, closing his eyes and lifting his chin as if he was a fifteenth century princess about to faint. You giggle, and he considers this a win.

“All jokes aside though, everyone is somehow beautiful in their own way. But you, your royal highness, you’re beautiful in every way possible” he whispers dramatically, getting closer so he can kiss the tip of your nose. „Plus I did bring the flowers, so it would kinda hurt if you wouldn’t forgive me”

You roll your eyes and nod calmly, watching him do a cute little victory dance.

“Now can I talk about how mean Iwaizumi was to me today? And you won’t believe what I got into this morning—“

Tobio Kageyama 

He’s being a clueless dick without realising it. You know damn well that all his life he’s been focused only on his passion, and nothing else seemed to be bothering his mind. You know you’re his first s/o, and that comes with a lot of fluffy, exciting moments, but also with a lot of embarassing fights about nothing. 

So you’re patient, most of the time. He doesn’t have a lot of spare moments to share with you, as his career is speeding up constantly ever since he left middle school, you’re fine with that. You’re fine with him leaving for a couple of days very often, you’re fine with him spending more time with his teammates than with you, that’s all understandable and logical. 

But his behaviour often isn’t. 

“Hey!” you say, standing on your tippy toes to cover his eyes with your hands “Guess who?” 

“I know it’s you” he answers, turning around “And I can’t talk right now” he adds, ready to leave. You notice hinata in front of him, apparently they were in the middle of a conversation. You suddenly feel bad for interrupting. 

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to. Are we still on for tonight, though?” 

“On for what?” he asks, eyebrows raised in total surprise. You can’t believe it, did he forget?

“Well, we have a date” you hiss bitterly, and get even more annoyed as he smirks a bit.

“Oh that, yeah no I can’t, I don’t have the time” he says before turning away and walking to the gym room.

“Oi, that was a bit rude” Hinata complains, but Kageyama only shakes his head.

“Shut it and let’s get to work” he states, his voice demanding obedience.

They both turn around a tiny bit, only to notice your figure fade away in the distance as you run off. A little needle of guilt stabs Kageyama’s heart softly, but he shakes it off.

“Kageyama, better go fix this” Hinata says, worry painted all across his face. “She looked pretty upset to me”

“Stop being nosy, it’s my relationship” he dismisses coldly, but Shouyou doesn’t seem to move from where he’s standing.

“Tobio, no. The tournament isn’t even here for another two months. Hell, we don’t even have practice today! We’re just practicing on our own!”

“Yeah, and you always insist on doing that. Stop being so sensitive today”

But Hinata doesn’t back down.

“Fine then, just don’t whine to me when she breaks up with you. Because she will, eventually, if you keep being a dick to her. Do you even love her?”

“Of course I do, you idiot!” Kageyama shouts, realizing what his friend is saying. He can’t bare the thought of you breaking up with him. Would you really do that? Would you leave him alone?

“Then go, and fix this, before we’ll al have to deal with your broken heart” the redhead adds, before grabbing his coat and walking towards the entrance. Kageyama is left in shock as he takes out his phone and tries to call you, but you don’t pick up.

Every time you don’t respond, Hinata’s voice keep getting louder in his head. You’ll break up with him. He doesn’t want that, he doesn’t know what he’d do.

He eventually runs out of the building, searching for you with his eyes. After a dozen missed calls, he finds your small figure in the distance, and runs up to you.

Even though his heart rages with emotion, he can’t seem to be able to tap your shoulder, and he doesn’t know whether he’ll find it in himself to apologize. Pride, and all that.

He finally does it, and you turn around, for him to see your puffy eyes and wet cheeks. Oh shit, he didn’t think he’d make you cry. What does one do in a situation like this?

“Follow me” he says, grabbing your hand. He doesn’t find the right words to apologize, so he just decides to take you on the best date he can think of.

“No” you answer, staying in place. “Why would I?”

“Because we’re going on a date”

“What makes you think I still want to go with you?” you ask, but the proud manner of your voice disappears as it cracks and tears form under your eyelids again.

What also cracks, is that poor, inexperienced heart of his.

“Please” he says “Please, let me take you out on a date you deserve”

Then he bows, slightly, and you find that scene both amusing and a bit uncomfortable.

You chuckle.

“Then say you’re sorry.”

He looks up at you with disbelief. Oh how petty, but he deserves that. He deserves to do what he’s not so good at, if he wants to show you he cares.

“I, uhm, I sincerely apologize for making you cry. I acted like an asshole” he says, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“How formal” you laugh, walking up to him and grabbing his hand. “Fine then, but better suprise me, Kageyama Tobio”

“You got it” he smiles.

[dancing-the-hellfire-rumba]

I’ll Tell You My Sins (So You Can Sharpen Your Knife)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst! A lot! (ends in fluff tho), canon typical violence, briefly mentioned and very vaguely descried torture, blackmailing.

Word Count: eight fucking thousand words what the fuck

Summary: Reader hides important information about her past from both Steve and Bucky, causing serious damage to their relationships with her. When Bucky’s severely (likely fatally) hurt, the Reader tries to finally do what’s right.

Beta: @walkingaline​ and I genuinely couldn’t have done it without her. She’s the sweetest fuckin person.

A/N: I’ve dedicated my life to this for two weeks, and it’s positively the longest one-shot I’ve ever written. I’m rather proud of how it turned out, and the feelings I got to explore. Would really love to know what you think!

It’s- vines, climbing up her organs, endless, crawling, and overflowing, thorns stuck inside her skin, digging in, and the breaths come shorter, clipped, chest weighted. There’s no alleviating this pressure, this overwhelming whirlwind of emotions, chaotic, heavy and filthy, slimy and awful.

The rumble of her engine, a loud interruption to her vicious thoughts, digging their claws inside her eyes, filling them with tears. The world is blurry, but the vibration- it's a welcome distraction. Familiar and strong, her motorcycle drives her at this point, muscle memory leading to the Compound, tears flying off her face by the whipping wind.

She’s booking it. Time barely registers. It’s somewhere between lashing thoughts and trembling fingers that the off-white building rises between the trees, overwhelming and tall, glinting lights always on, no matter the time of night. Somewhere between gasping, fast breaths and stuttering heartbeats that she throws the bike to park and runs, fast passes every lock with her ID and forgoes the elevator, knowing full well that the adrenaline thrumming in her veins will carry her up the stairs faster.

Shoes as if weighed by rocks, she feels slow, stuck in mud almost, liquid cement, sinking, drowning in quicksand as she rounds the corner and- Steve’s there, arms crossed over his chest, busted bottom lip pursed with his top one, a deep sigh swelling his chest. His hair is longer than the last time she saw him, he looks battered and bruised, and she’s known him for years- she can read his face clear as day. And as situations like this always have him, she knows, in the clench of his jaw, the statue-still set of his eyebrows, in his stony posture; he’s as worried as he is determined.

The phone call had been rushed.

She shouldn’t have heard it, about to jump in her shower, had she not forgotten her towel on her bed. Naked, feet padding on her plush rug, she digs in her bedside table for her usually silent device. It’s Steve, and she hasn’t heard from him in nearly a month and a half. Instantly she knows something isn’t right.

There’s only so many seconds it takes for the words to sink in, words like “mission went wrong”, and “hurt”, and “won’t make it”, and “Bucky”. Soon she’s pulling on clothes at lightning speed like the universe depends on it, shower be damned. Keys, jacket, helmet forgone, tears stream down her face as if she’s already lost him, bike kick-started because what else is there to do but be there.

And now? She’s here. And she feels foreign and bizarre, stepping in a space that she barely belongs in anymore. It’s sorta how she imagines entering an old house that’s now inhabited by new residents feels like- it feels the same, but in the same way it feels all too different, strange and foreign; revisiting an old life that’s been made into a new one for someone else.

It really doesn’t matter though, does it? Because she’s not here for herself- not for Fury, not Steve, not for the Avengers, or the missions. She’s here- she’s here for him.

Steps even slower now, approaching the Captain himself, very much aware of her knotted shoulders, her shaking hands. It’s evident, suddenly, in his posture that he knows she’s there. His shoulders stiffen just this bit more, and with a breath with which his chin raises a notch, he turns to see her. One foot behind the other, and he moves out the way, letting her in his spot in front of the window of the room Bucky is in-

A gasp.

Time finally stops.

Unrecognizable. Buried under wounds and bruises, endless tubes- her lost boy, James, Bucky. Tears fall at a new speed, and she allows this moment of vulnerability in front of Steve, allows herself to cover her mouth, her expression crumples, her tears flow freely, and- despite being mad at her, despite having patches to mend (if they can even be mended anymore), Steve is there, solid as always, with a hand on her shoulder, urging her in his arms. Old friendships die slowly, she thinks bitterly, and sinks in the comfort, eyes unable to be torn from the sight before her.

It takes some time, a good chunk of it, to compose herself, to part from Steve’s warmth and wipe the wetness off her cheeks. She wraps her arms around her front and shakes.

“We got ambushed,” he murmurs, and the statement is heavy. There’s guilt, sorrow, she’s sure it’s not fun to recall. “My fault. Didn’t know they were that many, must’ve had false info. Barely got to get him out of there.” She shudders. The image is loud and clear in her mind; Steve limping with the leg he’s currently not leaning on, busted and bleeding, carrying an unconscious Bucky, blood dripping from his mouth. She flinches.

“Can I-“ hesitation. A deep breath, shoulders squaring, remembering she no longer asks, she states. “I want to go in.” Steve stares for a second, calculating, thinking, looks back at Bucky, limp on the bed. He nods.

“Go.”

Before she knows it, the door shuts behind her slowly, an industrial, metal click, signifying a sealed door, nearly impenetrable if it was locked. She tries to be calm, but there’s no way, no reason to look composed either, so she flings herself to Bucky’s side, fingers twitching, hands hovering over him, afraid to touch him in case he frails like a burnt paper, in case he turns to dust and disappears before her very eyes.

Tears, once again, fall freely on her cheeks, tracing paths already carved by the previous breakdown, and the prospect of never seeing his wonderful crystal eyes, blue and loving, tears her apart. Worse so, the idea that the last time she saw them, they were red, hateful, betrayed, staring at her as if she was a monster, nothing more than the true scum of the earth, and he was right, and she will likely never be able to make everything right again.

It feels like  claws are tearing at her chest like it’s low quality linen, destroying every tiny piece of her into infinitesimal other pieces and then tearing those too. There she is, now, nothing but rubble and ash, on the floor, limp and bleeding. Heart far too heavy for her chest, breaking again and again, her temples feel like they’re about to burst from the pressure.

Sitting on the chair next to his hospital bed, her fingers tremble, carefully sliding under Bucky’s still ones, holding his hand between hers gently, like a lifeline, leaning her forehead on it. She sits there, folded, crumpled, and she cries.

~

Y/n’s palms are red and kind of stingy, but she pulls her sleeves over them and keeps holding the scalding cup of coffee between her hands anyways. Eyes closed, she lets the steam warm her nose, lets the scent comfort her, and she imagines, with her headphones plugged in her ears, that she is elsewhere, in her apartment with Bucky, on the fire escape, watching the sun descend beneath the skyline of New York City. She imagines his arms around her waist, sitting between his legs with her own dangling off the metal landing and over the street. His voice, vibrating through his chest, onto her back, murmuring teasingly in her ear, nose buried in her hair and his warmth all around her. It’s peaceful, it’s soft and warm and everything she has ever wanted.

When her eyes open, she’s met with sky blue ones, not the ones she was just dreaming of, and she flinches, suddenly very happy her coffee cup has a lid over it.

Steve.

With a sigh, she takes a calming breath, and pulls her headphones out of her ears, tugged by the wire pinched between her fingers. She places them gently on the table in the cafeteria for guests and low-level agents in the compound. It’s nighttime, and the lights in the cafe make Steve’s hair look golden and glimmering.

“How’re you holding up?” She’s not sure how much he means that, and she knows he’s still very much mad at her for everything that’s happened between them. She knows, however, he’s also the one that called her to let her know about Bucky. She feels heavy.

“I can’t stop fuckin’ crying, if that’s what you’re asking,” she tells him, no care to maintain a strong persona, not in front of the person she used to consider her best friend until not so long ago. She flicks the edge of the lid of her beverage with the tip of her nail and looks up at him. Steve looks better than she does for sure. Not because he cares less, or because he’s slept at all, but because the serum gives him more stamina than her. He’s not as tired as she is, despite the hours he’s been awake for. Still, despite his enhanced powers, there’s purple bags under his eyes. “You?”

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at her with a small shake of his head, sighing deeply. She takes that as her answer. Despite wanting to fiddle with something, a way to prevent her hands from shaking, a nervous habit, she pushes her coffee cup towards him, a peace offering, something to hopefully bring him the comfort it brings her. Steve doesn’t touch it. She fiddles with her sleeves instead.

The cafeteria, despite being open twenty-four seven, is quiet. A blanket of silence falls over them and Y/n crosses one leg under the other just to have something to do, something instead of opening her mouth and ruining the temporary civility between them. The words bubble, climb over one another like beasts, up her throat, and threaten to spill- and there’s just so much of them. So many apologies to make, so many explanations to offer, so many please let’s just go back to how we were ’s, so many this is killing me ’s, so many I can’t bear the thought of losing him without at least saying I’m sorry one last time. I don’t want that to happen with you too ’s. It’s all clogging the back of her throat like a spoonful of thick syrup that just won’t go down.

The idea that this might happen with Steve one day too overwhelms her. Two of the people she had found family in now hate her. She can’t let this happen with him, can’t lose him without telling him all of it. The realization; it’s the drop that makes the glass overflow. What if- what if tomorrow, or a month from now it’s Steve on that bed, Steve dying, what if she doesn’t get to tell him all of it? Never gets to apologize? How will she ever forgive herself for the things she didn’t say?

Her eyes well again. Her tongue feels like lead. It’s time.

“I…” She can’t bear to look at him. “Steve, I’m…” a shiver runs violently through her spine. “I’m so sorry. For all of it. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not Bucky, Y/n.” It’s like a kick in the stomach. She hears what he’s saying. I can’t forgive you for both of us. It almost sounds like your apology is useless.

“Well it’s not just Bucky I need to apologize to.” She looks up at him, and she wills the tears to be held at bay, matching his intensity with her gaze. She clenches her fists, fingernails digging in her skin just to distract part of her brain, to feel less numb. “Do you want to hear the truth?” Steve watches her. His irises bounce between hers, they do a once over of her stance, and she knows how small she looks in her seat, in contrast to him, who, despite his frame of mind, always makes a room smaller just by being in it.

His expression is grim, as he nods seriously. She takes a deep breath.

“This is the truth.”

~~

The older she grows, Y/n keeps thinking that she’s experienced everything there is to. But it truly feels to her like she’s never experienced this kind of cold before. And it’s not- it’s not just external temperature. It’s icicles, lodged under her skin, brutally freezing, causing her to endlessly shudder, tremble like a leaf out in the winter, causing her jaw to lock, her limbs to knot up.

She walks and walks, a woman with a purpose, head held high, as high as a prisoner can hold it and- something really isn’t right with this morning. Something isn’t right, and she can tell because this morning she- she felt something she hasn’t felt in years, something she thought she’d never again feel, a bubble of emotion she truly believed they had snuffed out in her. But it becomes an itch, an itch she can’t seem to scratch, something she can’t exactly put words to, can’t name.

The more she walks, the more the feeling of dread climbs up her throat. This she’s familiar with; fear. Cold and fear, clouding her senses, paralyzing her, as Müller’s door raises in front of her, and she struggles to remind herself to keep walking, keep breathing, one foot in front of the other, inhale, exhale, calm down. There’s no way to escape this anyways.

Director Müller was as tall as his voice was shrill and loud. His features were sharp, glass-cutting cheekbones and dimples that showed far too often. His hair was strawberry blonde and his eyes sunken, as if he was seventy years old with one foot in his grave. His skin looked taught over his bones. Always sharply dressed and always hiding about a dozen knives and pistols somewhere in his office. He liked Japanese jazz, had an affinity for yelling, and drank his whiskey straight. The only affection he’d ever had was reserved for his two small birds, Friedrich and Brigitta, whose singing he adored and who roamed in his office freely.

When he’d first kidnapped her and her older brother, Y/n sat doe eyed and watched as they beat her only sibling, her last relative left alive, to a pulp right in front of her. They didn’t know she had things to offer then. They did it for fun, a show of their capabilities, power play. They did it to break her into submission. When they found out, though, about her knowledge of science, her love for technology… That’s when her life truly ended.

She walks, now, down the freezing corridors, and knocks on Müller’s door three times. Status report straight to me every four days, he’d muttered in sharp German way back when he’d first assigned her missions, back in the beginning, and true to his word, every four days, Y/n was forced to see the skin around his bony face tighten and stretch with another chilling smile.

“Come in,” he yells, and his awful voice bounces in the empty, concrete walls of the corridor. She hears his birds. The door creaks open loudly, metal as it is, and she quickly closes it behind her so that Friedrich and Brigitta won’t escape, something she’s learned to do over the years, after one particular incident no one likes to remember, never mind speak of. He calls her last name with lewd, slimy confidence, supposedly happy to see her, his rotten dimples making an appearance. She sits on one of his chairs, upon his prompting “How’s your assignment progressing?”

“Nicely, sir. I’ve reprogrammed the Chair and fixed previous faults.”

“See, Y/n…” He sits on the plush leather chair behind his desk, hands wringing together and as he says her name, he sits up, elbows on the arm rests. His long lashes and abyssal brown eyes examine her. “I think you’re not telling me the truth.”

“Uh…” Stance maintained, but lips pursed and hands just slightly trembling, she keeps his gaze. She can’t displease him. There’s no room for her failure. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, sir. There’s… surely ways to improve, b-but the chair- it works well.”

“Ah, but that is not what I hear.” Müller stands up dramatically, rounds his desk with slow steps, and Friedrich starts chirping consistently, sensing the sudden tension in the room, loud, high pitch hurting her ears. She dares not flinch. The cold returns fiercely, heart climbing up to her throat, choking her. This won’t end well. “As a matter of fact,” he leans, rests on his desk, right in front of her, loving his height difference and accentuating it by standing while she sits, a reminder to both of them that he’s superior. Y/n wants to melt into a puddle on the floor, never to be seen again. “I hear that Smith, your test subject… he has almost already recovered.”

Referring, of course, to the poor boy whom they snatched and have provided her as a sick guinea pig, a way for her to test the torture chair they have forced her to make. It’s a requirement, of course, that she tests it on him herself.

“Sir, I don’t think-“

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” In the flash of a blink, he’s pulled a knife from his belt and he’s pushing her back in her seat, by pressing his blade on her throat. “You know what HAPPENS,” a tilt of his head, “when you LIE.” Friedrich is joined by Brigitta, as well as the echo of Müller’s voice, and Y/n’s heartbeat accelerates, her breath is caught in her throat. She feels like her ears are about to burst.

“He was unconscious when-“

“What did I just say?” Lips purse, scared of making any sound that’ll piss him off further. “Seems to me like you’ve forgotten,” he murmurs, flicking his knife shut and narrowing his eyes. He takes a deep breath, straightens up and she doesn’t dare to move an inch, but it feels like her heart has plummeted to the center of the earth, and she wishes it could drag her too, as far away from this as possible. She’s well aware of what’s to come.

 A chilling half hour later she finds herself sucking up tears that’ll only make her situation worse if someone were to see them. The cold, plastic, remote controller is in her hands, and it’s heavy as it’s ever been. She deems herself desensitized of the emotional toll forcefully inflicting torture on innocent people used to take. However, nothing, nothing, could possibly prepare her for what it feels like watching two HYDRA soldiers dragging her bleeding, thrashing brother from his armpits, and forcefully shoving him into the chair Y/n’s made. Director Müller watches her press the appropriate buttons with a sickly smile on his face.

She begs. For the first time in years, she begs God, the universe, something, to save her, to make her disappear. When this doesn’t work, when pleading for somebody to take mercy goes unheard, when the remote feels like the heaviest thing she’s ever lifted, her eyes draw to Müller, who’s watching her intently, waiting for her to carry on with her new assignment.

The millimeters her thumb has to cross feel endless. The process takes eons. The button is nearly unmoving.

Y/n will never forget her brother’s screams.

~~

In the hours that follow, she’s trapped inside her chamber, a tiny room of blank four walls with a hard bed and an open toilet, looking more like a prison cell than anything, the only difference being that in the daytime she’s allowed to come and go as she pleases within the unrestricted areas.

Tears streak her cheeks for yet another night, and the despair has never felt like this before. She thought she’d escape it one day, the guilt, the weight, but it seems she’s trapped, like an ant under a boot, seconds before she bursts to pieces, with the pressure of the entire world on her chest.

The itch grows louder. It’s right there, in the bottom of her heart, something to pay attention to, in her state of absolute isolation and despair. She’s alone, has been alone for so many years, and she wonders, still, why she hasn’t killed herself yet, but the idea that if she does, they’ll probably also kill her brother comes and slaps her in the face. However, what else is there to do? How much torture can she make her brother go through because of her mistakes, how much guilt can she shoulder?

She sits on the bed, counts the bolts that are screwing the vent door on the ceiling, listens to footsteps pass by every so often, and ponders. Silent tears crawl down the curves of her face. She’s lost so much. She hasn’t spoken her native language in years, and sometimes she wonders if she’s forgotten how to.

A pair of heavy duty boots leisurely walk down the hallway, and she recognizes the voices of two guards. Conversation easily flows between them, and Y/n has no choice but to listen.

“Did you hear about the new chair the American has made?” one of them says. Her ears perk.

“The American? No, what about it?”

“They say it’s one of the most painful things they’ve ever used in HYDRA.” Y/n winces.

“Are you serious?”

“It’s what I heard. Wouldn’t wanna find out myself.” The soldiers share a chuckle. “Müller made the American do it on her brother. I hear he died about twenty minutes later.”

Y/n’s heart drops.

He- he’s- he’s dead?

“No kidding. The bastard survived six years. ‘S a wonder he’s lived this long” And as the soldiers pass by, Y/n’s left in her chamber. The silence grows deafening, but the echo of her heart splitting and falling apart, shattering on the hard concrete floor is ear-splittingly loud. All that she’s done, all the sacrifices, all the sheer, iron will she’s had to muster to maintain her sanity, all the awful things she’s done, the blood on her hands, the guilt, the pain she’s caused and- and in the end… he died by her own hand.

Chaos and confusion, an ocean of lashing thoughts violently crashing and pulling her under. It feels like the crescendo of the longest song that’s ever been written, six years of constant playing, and the orchestra’s hands are bleeding on the strings and buttons, coating everything with their own pain, worked down to the bone, and this is it- the minutes before it’s finally over. The roof is about to be blown off its hinges.

The itch is no longer underlying. It consumes her, and she knows, finally. She recognizes it. Escapism. Revenge.

~

Steve’s silent. He hasn’t looked away from her, hasn’t changed stance, still with his arms crossed over his chest and bulging underneath his dark green sweater. He’s staring at her, patiently as ever, with a set to his jaw that she knows isn’t there out of anger, but because he, too, is overwhelmed with emotion. His shoulders are no longer stiff, and he now has a cup of coffee too, finished in front of him. The bags under both their eyes are darker. 

“I didn’t get to kill Müller. But I managed to run away. Barely. I disappeared, travelled to the States. I found Fury and sold all the information I knew about HYDRA and the department I had been held in, in return for protection. Fury took me in.” It’s a lifeless shrug, weighted and tired, and it’s then that Steve glances at his feet, then back at her. “I trained, learned how to fight properly. Used my knowledge for good. Made it to the Avengers in a desperate attempt to make up for all that I had done. ‘S when I met you.”

Steve seems to remember. He recognizes himself entering the story. It’s almost like he’s reliving the time they first met, back on that Helicarrier. A good memory, all things considered.

“There’s little excuse for me lying to you. I know. But please, you have to understand. The burden of getting to know the best friend of the person you’d been forced to help torture for years… becoming close friends with you? How could I ever say anything about anything and have you actually trust me?” She shook her head.

“What do you mean…?”

“They forced me to make weapons, new torture methods, even tried to make me refine Zola’s formula. A way to get a better grip on Bucky’s mind. I didn’t know much about all of it, nor who it was for, wasn’t my field anyways, and Zola’s formula was successful as it was, there wasn’t much for me to add. They later left me to the torture part, not the brainwashing. Even if I had known, though, I wouldn’t really have had a choice in the matter. I did anything I had to do to protect the only family I had left.” He nods seriously.

“We grew closer and closer and I wanted to tell you, to share my guilt with someone finally, but… the prospect of losing you was… too much. I didn’t want to lose the person that had reminded me for the first time in decades what it was like to be cared for. You were-“  a gulp “are like a brother to me.” Steve looks down. “I couldn’t see the betrayal on your face. It- it paralyzed me.

“I didn’t think you’d ever find out, honestly, how was I supposed to know you’d find my file? But don’t think I never felt guilty. It was always there, like everything could crumble at any moment, like a cloud looming over my head, but… I guess I kind of learnt to ignore it. I had found a family, Steve. After years of pain, pain received and pain caused, after so much darkness, I had finally found people who understood what guilt felt like, what it meant to be composed on surface level. I found people that loved me for what I was then and there. The idea of losing that crushed me.

“I know I can’t take it back, but for whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Steve.”  

Steve stays tight-lipped, pondering, staring at the table, then at her, then at the table again. He’s carefully controlling his expressions, clearly analyzing the information he’s been given, and she holds her breath. Whatever his reaction is, she thinks, nothing compares to the breath of fresh air she can allow herself to take, free of this awful, lengthy story. Finally, clear honesty, a sort of vulnerability with her best friend that’s different and new. True, down to its core.

It’s the sigh that does it for her. Resigned. Her eyes snap up at him. “You should’ve told me” He shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose before looking up at her, and shaking his head. “I would’ve understood. Nothing would’ve changed.” He looks right at her, very much like a discouraged parent. “What am I gonna do with you?”

And it’s- it’s the way he says it, as if everything makes sense now, shoulders dropping all the way down. The way he just- like he says you absolute moron, but in their own, loving, sibling-like way. As if  he can’t stay mad for too long. Looking at her with the tiniest sympathetic curl of his lip.

It’s relief, because it’s in that half a smile that she sees it all. She sees the forgiveness, the understanding. She sees the love. It’s as if he’s looking at her, saying family, am I right? Despite her situation, for the first time in years, so, so many years, she breathes deeply, breathes oxygen that feels nurturing to her lungs, that makes her think she’s floating, and smiles, apologetically, trying to telepathically communicate I’m sorry for being an idiot. Sorry for not trusting you. Sorry for fucking up this badly. I promise to be better.

She knows, he’ll always be there to give her another chance.

~

It’s moments, a handful of them, in which time and space seem to stop existing, to warp into something else entirely, a world that’s so confused, nobody knows how to put it back. It seems, in those moments, one forgets where they are, how they got there, their brain has not yet escaped from the liquefied dreamland it’s manifested, can’t seem to fit in the strict, square rigidness of reality.

Bucky finds himself in that place. His eyelids seem to weigh about twelve tons, barely feeling his fingertips. It takes a great deal of effort to have thoughts, to- to maintain them, and as his mind slowly starts running a little faster, he remembers faintly, cloudy memories barely registering, that the last thing he saw was three soldiers, that had sneaked up on him, he remembers the gun being aimed at him, instinctively moving and getting nailed in the stomach multiple times.

Wherever he is now, it’s quiet. He worries for a second that he’s been left for dead in the HYDRA base, worries that he’s either dying on the floor or a vague prison cell, resembling something he’s been in already, but he’s comforted by the fact that the surface he’s on seems soft, the lights behind his eyes bright. Whatever the case, he should wake up now, he might need to get up and defend himself.

And as his eyes open, heavy and tired, he meets another pair of gorgeous ones, familiar and soft, and he feels warm all over. He’s- he’s safe. He’s safe because she’s here, and he loves her, with all of his being he loves her, and she’s holding his right hand close to her chest, he feels everything, her warmth, and he knows it’ll all be okay, it’ll all fix itself. He doesn’t have to try.

There’s something lingering just beneath his skin though, a need to recoil. Like a small bucket of icy water thrown over him, because, yes, he loves her, but she betrayed him. She could be out to get him right now, could be working with HYDRA still, and he might be trapped somewhere, and his heartbeat accelerates, because he has to escape and he can’t trust her anymore- until he sees the tears. The tears streaking her cheeks, over old salty marks, and a smile, broken but whole. This isn’t the behavior of a captor, he decides, deems himself, if not safe, then entirely incapable of fighting back, should he need to anyways. Why worry now? Let his future self do the work.

His eyes move around the room, blue-ish gray walls vaguely familiar, and- there’s another figure, another pair of eyes- blue, happy. It’s Steve.

Bucky feels safe. He knows he’s alive. He knows he’s home.

~

Like any other free afternoon, Y/n finds herself on her couch, curled up as much as she can with a book in her lap. There’s a short lamp on the side table, and she leans on the armrest comfortably with her toes curled, flying through pages and pages of words. Her hair is down, she wears comfortable clothes, and has a blanket over her legs. The weather’s been getting colder lately.

A warm sound, four soft knocks on her wooden door, are enough to pull her out of her novel, enough to make her eyebrows stitch together. She’s not expecting anyone.

Her feet are bare and she’s well aware of how close her knives are to the front door, just in case she has to fling herself over and grab one. She presses her eye against the little peephole, but it’s old and foggy and the workers who had once repainted the building managed to cover part of it with small drops of paint and she hasn’t gotten around to trying cleaning it. Doorknob cold under her palm, she tilts and-

Oh.

The first thing she notices is his shirt, a maroon Henley, buried under two more layers of clothes, a brown hoodie and a darker brown leather winter jacket. The buttons on the collar of his Henley are open, giving her a cheeky peak of the skin of his chest. She loves this shirt on him. It feels like someone tugged at her heart from every direction. Longing.

The second thing she notices is that this- it’s Bucky. Bucky standing in front of her door with an expression she’s rarely, if ever, seen on his face before. Her favorite, gorgeous light blue eyes staring straight at her after briefly scanning her down, as if he, too, is making sure she’s actually there.  She is. And so is he. Here. Now. In front of her. Looking at her. Her feet are on the floor, she’s not dreaming, the world is round and Bucky is here.

Oh God. He’s really at her door.

“James…”

He seems to shiver. A shake of his head, something she recognizes as him convincing himself this is happening, then eyes meeting hers again. He shoves his hands deeper in his pockets. She holds the door less tensely.

“I think…” squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, looking at the floor. “Steve said to talk to you.” A heavy breath. Shoulders awkwardly, tensely shrugging, sorta like a kid forced to apologize by their parent. She doesn’t know how, but her head manages a nod, gulping. She pulls away from the doorframe, makes way for him to pass.

“Come in.”

 New York sounds as alive as it ever does, even at eleven at night, and Y/n wishes she was sitting, because her legs are unsteady. It makes tears well in her eyes, seeing him here again, in her kitchen, looking around absently. The world feels different, much like it did in the Compound when she’d gone to visit him, even if nothing has changed in it apart from them.

Despite the passing cars outside, and people yelling, heard through the open window, it feels quiet. As if they’re the only ones in the world, being here with him feels like a cosmic event. She remembers what it was like sitting here and being so overwhelmed by the love in her heart, remembers what it was like to be surrounded by his arms and held so impossibly close to his chest. She remembers what it was like to look in his eyes and see them so affectionately looking at her, as if she’s everything he could ever ask for, as if she’s the light in his world. The cold of the night and of the space between them feels very much like a slap in the face.

“I know you no longer work for them,” and it truly breaks her heart how part of that statement feels like he’s trying to convince himself, or as if it’s difficult for him to process. How awful, the shift between being someone’s favorite person and being someone who’s trustworthiness is little over questionable. The weight of being responsible for fucking up the most important relationships in her life suffocates her. “Steve told me.” 

There’s nothing to do but nod numbly. She looks at him, watches the warm, glimmering lights of her kitchen fall on the curves and edges of his face, admires the yellow-ish hue outlining his features, making his eyes look iridescent.

She mustn’t cry.

“He told me everything, actually.”

She must not cry.

Bucky doesn’t say a lot of words, but they’re there, at the tip of his tongue, floating in the air like dust particles. In this, there’s a lingering question, a large Why. Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you hide all this from me? Why did it have to be this way?

Y/n looks down. What to say, really?

“I just- I can’t believe-“ she jumps at his loud tone, Bucky never one to have vocal outbursts. She sees the tears in his eyes, gaze lingering away from her, towards the living room for a second before looking up at the ceiling momentarily, then straight at her. His hands are shaking, and she sees it all then. The betrayal, the hurt, despair, the- the loss. There’s no alleviating this pain that overwhelms both of them. She hates herself for this, can’t believe she caused all of it.

“I- I did what I thought would be best for us-“

“No, don’t pull that shit with me.” He glares now and points at her, and she never, ever wanted to be in the receiving end of such an intimidating look. Venom is laced in his tone, harsh and biting, and it feels like the temperature in the room dropped below zero, her spine rigid. “You did what you thought was best for you,” said as calmly as the tears that slowly leak from the corners of his eyes and over the apples of his cheeks are. “In fact, I doubt you thought at all”

That’s not true though. The amount of times she’d sit in her bed, with his arms around her while he slept, weighed down by the lies and the guilt; the guilt of all the terrible things she’d done, and the guilt of hiding them from the most important people in her life. She’d scale the pros and cons of confessing everything, for hours she’d make lists in her head, extensively long, but the cons were always destructively larger and would always win. She’d choose to stay as she was, with them oblivious and happy, until they would finally see her for what she truly was, and she’d convince herself, it would all be worth it for the time spent with them.

“I couldn’t tell you- I couldn’t face the idea of losing you I-“

“So you’d rather lie to me? You’d rather hide your past from me? I trusted you, Y/n.” He hasn’t called her by her first name in so long, and it feels like he just took one of her knives on her kitchen counter and stabbed her straight in her chest with it. “I gave you all of me, I told you every single little thing about myself, everything I hated, everything I’ve done, and I trusted you to have it and- and you couldn’t even trust me to listen to you? To- to understand you?”

She deserves this, she does, but she can’t- can’t deal with him yelling at her and, reflexively, she lashes out- “I was scared, Buck,” –and it’s a pitiful excuse, she knows, but it’s the bitter truth and the reason behind everything. “You have to understand- this isn’t some black and white situation, I thought you’d hate me for everything, I didn’t wanna lose you, or Steve!”

“Scared?” he seethes, walking towards her with angry steps, and she starts stepping back too, entering the living room. She realizes how large he looks, how his anger fills every corner of the room. “You were scared?!” She can practically taste the condescension on her tongue. “And you think I wasn’t?! You think I wasn’t paralyzed you’d run away after everything I’d done? You think I wasn’t terrified of my feelings for you and how fast they came to be?” She wishes she could answer that, but part of her is terrified to know what he used to feel for her and how much of it she actually ruined.

“But I’m a fucking adult, and I dealt with it. You… you lied about everything. Did you even give a shit about how badly you were gonna fuck me over, if I ever found out?”

“Does it look like I fucking like it? You know how sorry I am, how much I hate myself for everything I’ve done to ruin both yours and Steve’s trust in me!”

“I don’t know shit,” her legs bump on the back of her navy couch. “You hurt me- hurt us. We gave you everything, I put my heart on the line for you, and you couldn’t even have a little faith in me to believe in you, and what you truly are.”  A monster rings in Y/n’s brain. Nothing but a monster.

“Please, stop.” Submission. That’s all she has left, by now, because his words ring nothing but true. Because she can’t bear to hear everything she feels about herself being told back to her in his voice, it would literally be a nightmare come true. Everything drains in her body, and it all comes down to this. She just wants all of this to stop, the pain in both of them to stop.

“No,” he hisses, and she can’t really blame him. He’s close to her, about two feet away, and she’s trapped between him and the couch. “I’m not gonna stop just because things got uncomfortable for you, just because you had to come back because I was dying in a gurney. You barely tried to make everything right before that. Do you even care?”

“Don’t you see that I did everything because I love you?!”

Silence. Bucky nearly staggers back, as if the words that have never, before, been said came out and punched him in the face.

“Why the fuck do you think I didn’t tell you anything? Because I wanted to break your heart? No, you clueless asshole, I’m in fucking love with you!” His expression is stunned, eyes wide at her outburst, watching as she takes the steps she needs to close the gap between them. Her finger is jabbing at his chest, which is raising and falling with panted breaths. “I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, couldn’t take to watch your trust break, couldn’t bear the thought of you finally seeing I’m a monster!” And she breaks down, a sobbing mess now, the tears that once trailed down her face, now endless. She covers her mouth, face crumpled and red.

“I j-j-just wanted us t-to be okay, bec-cause I love you t-too much to fuck-king lose y-you”, As her eyes shut, crying relentlessly in her hand, throat feeling like it’s gonna burst, she feels so eternally cold, as if showered by a bucket of icy water. The idea that she might once again be left alone in the world while someone she loves is taken away, all because of her actions- it’s too much. It takes her back to the worst day of her life, brings back a kind of cold so furious, it knots her joints and sends shudders down her spine- her hands tremble at the thought. She can’t believe how colossally she’s managed to screw things up with him, how much he hates her and genuinely believes she did anything less than care about him. .

Like a tidal wave, the emotions overwhelm her, the self-hate like a boulder that smacked her in the face and threw her down a cliff and now everything hurts, and her stomach feels like it’s climbing up her throat. Her heart tears through her chest, painful and slow, and it’s all her fault, everything, and there’s nothing there to fix it all, to make it better- except, all of a sudden, warm, strong arms curl around her. She breaks down harder, curling in his chest because she fucking missed this, missed his affection, his protective embrace, his comforting smell.

Fists clutching his shirt, she sobs, acutely aware of her tears wetting the material of that maroon Henley she loves so much. The arms around her curl tighter, one hand dipping under her hair to hold the nape of her neck gingerly, keeping her against him, thumb rubbing gentle circles. And it’s then that she hears it, his own sniffling, his chest shaking. He’s crying too. The need to provide the comfort she seeks is overwhelming, and she lets his shirt go, wrapping her arms around his waist and holding him together too. “I’m so sorry,” she cries, shoulders shaking, and Bucky shushes her, shaking his head slightly. His arms tighten briefly.

In her crying, she vaguely registers him moving them to the couch, both sitting down, and her curling up into him instinctively. For a while, until she calms down slightly, she lets herself be held and holds him back just as fiercely. It feels like she’s finally letting go, an outburst that frees her of part of the weight she’d been shouldering for years on end. It feels like release, a dam that broke and is spilling every last drop of water that’s been pushing at it for so long.

When she quiets down, when her sobs no longer hurt, no longer feel like they’ll split her ribcage to splinters, when her breathing sort of evens out, she pulls one of her hands to rest on Bucky’s chest, and pulls away to look at him. Bucky’s arms tighten to keep her close.

She’s well aware she must look like a mess, what with all the crying, but this is Bucky after all, her James, the love of her life. He’s seen her under all kinds of light now, and there’s no need to hide. Like he wants, if he is to care for her, after all this, he should care for her for all the things she is, not the things she pretends to be.

Bucky’s eyes are a little less bloodshot than hers. She cups his chin gently and watches his eyelashes flutter, his eyelids softly shut. With her thumb she gently strokes his cheek and notices the way he seems to lean into her palm, lips parting with heavy breaths. He missed her too.

He opens his eyes again to look at her and leans his forehead down to touch hers, holds her closely and brushes the tip of his nose on the bridge of hers so lightly she almost misses it. She sighs. “You have every right to be angry at me,” she whispers to him, pulling her hand back and tucking it in her chest. “I lied, and I didn’t trust you, and I acted the complete opposite way of how I should have. For all of that,” a breath sucked, almost clogged at the center of her chest, “for all of that, I’m sorry.”

Bucky, still infinitely close to her, shakes his head gently. He takes one arm from around her, and she thinks this is it; this is where he says goodbye-

But, gentle as always, he places his right hand on the side of her neck, softly nudges her head up to his and drops his lips on her own, a ghost of a kiss, short and unexpected, before he pulls back and looks at her. “I love you.” He whispers, breath hitting her lips, and her eyes well with tears once again, as she looks up at him. She never thought she’d hear those words, not after everything. Bucky kisses her single fallen tear away, noses at her temple.

“I don’t think you’re a monster, the same way you didn’t think I am one. You helped me heal, helped me learn that those things I did, they weren’t me. I didn’t have a choice.”

“B-but-“

“No, you listen to me.” He tells her, his grip around her body tightening, giving emphasis to his words. “You did what you had to do to protect your brother. What you did… The blood isn’t on your hands.” He has not let her gaze go for a second, and she’s transfixed, tears still overflowing- she wonders when she’ll finally run out of them. “I love you.” Her bottom lip trembles. “I love you more than I thought I was ever capable of. Thinking you betrayed me completely incapacitated me, but I understand you. I see you. I forgive you.”

She gasps, shudders, and in the spur of a single waking moment, lunges at him, kisses him fiercely, holds him tightly. Their lips mold together, and the last pieces of the universal puzzle of the cosmos click to place. Everything settles, mouths moving in sync, desperate, hungry, all the emotions tumbling out all at once, and it’s like the slingshot snapped, and the missile hit the target. She bites his bottom lip, and the groan he lets out comes from deep within his chest, tongues tangling together. His metal arm crushes her against him, hand buries in his hair, their noses smush together, breaths strangled, air shared, and…This- this feels like belonging. No- more like, this feels like coming home.

Inevitably, they part, trying to suck in much needed air, foreheads knocking together gently and chests heaving. It seems like they feed off each other’s personal space, like they hold each other in one piece, while also completing one another. To Y/n it feels like a breath of fresh air.

“This doesn’t mean we’re perfect yet,” Bucky utters gently, not in a menacing way, but as a soft clarification, a request even. “I- I’m gonna need some time.” She’s grateful he even chose to give her a chance at all. Y/n smiles up at him affectionately and nods.

“Of course, Buck. All the time you need.” She caresses the side of his face with gentle fingers, traces his features with a feather-light touch, then cups his jaw. “Thank you.” And it’s weighted, hangs low in the air. She looks at him intensely to make sure he knows she means it. Bucky closes his eyes and leans into her touch, then blinks them open, brilliant, sky blue irises staring right at her. “I love you so much.” He breathes out heavily.

“Say that again,” he whispers. She grins at him as if he’s all good things in the world, because he is.

“I love you, Sergeant Barnes.” A kiss pressed to his cheek. “I love you with all of my being.” A kiss gently tucked on each of his eyelids. “I love you for all that you are.” And she kisses him on his lips sweetly, and he responds like she’s made out of glass, like she’s fragile. He sighs out. They breathe close to each other for a while.

“I know you said you need some time. Do you… wanna go out with me? Coffee? At Michelle’s?” Bucky grins. Their spot. He nods.

“I’d really love that.”

It’s not much, but it’s something. An olive branch. The first step to gain his trust back. There’s nothing Y/n deems more important. With a deep  breath, she knows. She’s ready to do anything, to work her hardest to earn a place in his life, the one he’s so graciously offered her. To get to build a future with him, on steady foundation this time.

Their life begins now. Y/n can’t wait to live it. With him.

~~

A/N 2: please tell me what you thought!

[xnchxntmxnt]

OMG HAPPY 2OO LUV!! ILYSM, AND YOU DEFINITELY DESERVE MORE!! AS EXPECTED I'M HERE FOR THE MATCHUP EVENT AND I'M SO SORRY FOR BEING LATE KSDJFHSDF

1 | name : amie 2 | pronouns : s/her 3 | preferred gender : doesn't really matter 4 | self-description :

— it's ya clown sho <3 anyway, i'm an ambivert but more inclined towards the introvert side. my MBTI is INFJ and i'm a Gemini. i'd describe myself as someone who's very observant? yea, i guess. i'm awkward and you know it. My favorite color is blue, specifically sapphire, but i love all pastel colors. My fav show is Chicago Medical and all the psychological and crime thrillers out there are my favorite ( silent patient is my #1 though ) I love painting, playing piano and basketball!

— what i look in a partner you ask, uh, someone who can tolerate my silence. there are times when i go quiet for a whole day, i'll barely speak, no interaction nothing. i want someone who'd not exactly 'deal with it' but 'understand it.' also, i want someone who i can talk to without any hesitation. i have a hard time opening up so i don't do it but when i do, i spill almost everything. i might cry, might have anxiety attack, i might even shout. i know it's not very healthy but i want someone who can help me with those. plus someone who i can read with please <3 cheating and not having any respect for personal space would be the major deal breaker for me

5 | gen. aesthetic : my fashion sense starts from sweats and ends in sweats. i'm a big fan of those oversized hoodies and shirts, like something really comfy. however, i do have a collection of formal wears like blazers and dress.

6 | color/s to describe myself : red, actually. if not read then blue. it switchers but red 90% of the times.

7 | fav song/s : literally everything by Chase Atlantic and The Neighborhood. However, my absolute favorites are some of the famous classical pieces like Experience by Ludovico Einaudi and Chopin's Ballade No. 1 Op 23.

8 | fav genre of music : classical music ( Beethoven, Einaudi and Chopin own my heart )

Lol this is very lengthy I'm sorry, btw congrats again!

I looked into MBTI, I looked into zodiacs, I went off of what you said

Here he is, the man, Seijoh’s do-it-all guy

HANAMAKI TAKAHIRO ur new boyfriend

There is not enough content for him, anyway

How You Met

Bear with me here

Think about this

Artist!hanamaki

You love painting? Art club.

Idk if youre actually in any art club but shhh

Anyway, it was probably some sort of community thing full of tons of different age artists (bc you’d have basketball or something after school and he had volleyball)

So like once a week on thursday afternoons everyone gets together and does all sorts of artsy stuff

Everyone listens to lo fi music (or you can bring headphones) and chit chat and just paint for a couple hours

Its in the back section of a library (bc the library near me does stuff like this its awesome) so if you want you can go read a book while you wait for things to dry

One day the person that ran it suggested you talked to the new guy

He was about your age, it was his first day, they didn't know what all he was good at, and tbh they thought you two would look cute together

Just the vibes yk

So you set up your canvas and stuff next to him and introduced yourself

And you guys just vibe to the playlist

He’s REALLY good

Compliments you a lot too

Which is fun because he’s cute so it makes you a little flustered

You find out you guys go to the same school and he’s on the VB team

And says he has a (practice) game that weekend and asks you to come if you can

Which you do

And they win! So its fun!

Matsukawa basically asks you out for him though

He’s heard all about you already

“You don't get it issei! She’s so pretty!! God, she touched my hand and I thought I was gonna die!!!!!” “the enthusiasm is new for you” “shut up asshole” (conversation from the night before)

So he walks up to you after the game and is like “Hey so,,, we’re going out to get some lunch, you wanna come?”

Makki thinks HES flirting with you and is pissed off about it

Until you all sit down for lunch and oh, the only open spot for him is next to you (since when is matsukawa willing to sit between iwaizumi and oikawa??)

He asked you out after art club that week (Mattsun threatened not to give him any more monster for the rest of the month if he didn't get the guts to do it)

General Headcanons

You date hanamaki, you're also dating matsukawa

There’s no separating them (good thing ur MBTIs work together too, especially for strong friendships)

This was literally my first thought

So

Good luck with both these trolls

More on that later

Of course he’s going to be worried if you go radio silent for a while, but he'll understand

There are some days he’s not gonna wanna talk either

He’s really supportive on your bad days of course

Expect a random text in the middle of the evening from him

“Hiya sweetheart, just wanted to remind you that you’re beautiful, I love you, and I hope your day is going well.”

When he’s having a bad day, the same thing is all he needs from you to keep moving

He’s a really honest person. If you want to talk to him, be prepared not to get any sugar coating. If you tell him to shut up because you don’t want advice, he will. But if you expect advice from him, expect brutally honest advice. Subtlety is not his strong suit, so when it comes to advice, he’s going to tell it like it is. He's just trying to help, yknow?

However, he’s pretty good with people, so will know how to comfort you when something is bothering you. Tea and cuddles? Gotcha. Dancing at 11pm because neither of you want to sleep yet? On it. You want him to hold you? Perfect.

He’s not like...the most touchy person? There are some things he’s really indifferent on, and other things he’s stubborn as hell with. Whatever you wanna do, though

His weakness though

⚠️this part is slightly little bit suggestive⚠️

He will randomly walk up to you and pull you against him, give you a really deep kiss, smirk and walk away like nothing happened

Like hands in hair probably almost making out and then just

Walk away

Because that’s how he kisses and it’s breathtaking every time

It’s either little temple kisses or forehead or cheek pecks or something

Or that

And probably leaves you flustered and it’s funny (to him) (and to me if I was there with you) (bc that would be funny)

Hmm I’m thinking

I’m thinking hair dye dates

He needs help doing his hair from time to time Y’know (he doesn’t he just likes spending time with you) and he wants to make it pink again

So he teaches you how to do his hair and even offers to dye yours one day

Either just a strand or the ends or everything, up to you

Imagine having twinning hair dye with makki isn’t that cute

I think it’s cute

I said ur platonically dating mattsun right

Yes you are now

He absolutely adores you and loves how much makki loves you

Probably would have asked you out if makki didn’t but he was really pushing for makki to because he was just all over you in the beginning

He wasn’t overly attached to you romantically so being friends? Perfect. Sounds great

You two get along wonderfully though like you act like siblings once you warm up to each other

Again, very brutally honest person, but a little more awkward so doesn’t know what he’s saying might come off as he’s acting like a dick

He doesn’t try to though and he does really care about you

Flat out told makki if he breaks up with you and breaks your heart he’s gonna kick his ass (makki doesn’t know he had the same (less aggressive) conversation with you)

Tbh all of the VBC at seijoh loves you

Oikawa loves talking to you he thinks you’re great for makki

Gets you in on he and makki and mattsun’s antics

Iwa thinks you’re good too he just doesn’t know you as well

I think that kunimi would like you (he was almost a runner up--)

Kindaichi too

The first years just think you’re cool even if they won’t say it out loud

Seijoh VBC loves you

You got mattsun’s approval

And hanamaki loves you with literally everything in his life

So

You’re pretty set with your strawberry baby huh

Date Night!

SLEEPOVERS

I was waiting for some matchup to come along that gave me sleepover vibes

In a perfect world where you could do sleepovers with your bf because most parents would,,,not let that happen

Imagine…

He shows up at like 7:00 after practice, pizza in hand because he picked up dinner

You two eat, chat about your day, he probably scarfs down half the pie bc it’s after practice ofc he’s hungry

So when you guys are done eating you head up to your room

And make pillow fort

It’s mandatory

Different design every time, but there’s a pillow fort nonetheless

And then when there’s just enough room for the both of you to climb in

You get a blanket and a couple pillows and one of your phones or laptops or whatever and watch a movie and cuddle

When the movie is over you guys break out the face masks

You ever wonder why he has such great skin? It’s thanks to you (or if you don’t have masks, he picks them up on the way home from practice)

But anyway you guys talk shit about people for a while and sit with the masks on (it’s usually him talking about how Oikawa is a bitch as much as he loves him) (or about whatever he and Mattsun were talking about lately)

You both get chances to vent while the masks sit on your face and you just vibe with music (usually that you pick) (he listens to like,,,meme songs and like CORPSE yk)

After masks you guys make/get some snacks and munch on those during another movie but this time you’re in comfy jammies and more relaxed Y’know

Less paying attention to the movie you’ve seen a million times and just vibing in each other’s presence and it’s just really sweet

Fall asleep on his chest

Let him fall asleep on yours

Either way, you’ve got him whipped for you he loves you

Not that he doesn’t already but that’s his favorite thing ever so please just let him do that

Always makes sure to tell you he loves you before you sleep too

If you fall asleep first he takes embarrassing pictures of you with your hair being a mess & you best bet he sends them to mattsun because “she’s so cute omfg” “dude” “dude what” “you’re so fuckin stupid” “?” “Whatever—good luck being whipped just tell me when you need to get a ring, k” “you’re such a jackass” “yeah yeah Gnight”

Zodiac/MBTI

Okay so I’m not doing a big long paragraph for all this BUT from what I understand, Gemini/Aquarius are really compatible, and ENTP and INFJ are known as “perfect matches” sO (I had a really hard time deciding between Atsumu and Makki because they're both ENTP)

Psst Gemini + Leo is compatible and so is INTP + INFJ,,,, so, again, asking you to marry me sho 💍💍

Aesthetic/Vibes

Playlist

Prelude and Fugue No. 1 in C major, BWV 846

Linus and Lucy by Vince Guaraldi Trio (meme song)

Sky Full Of Stars by The Piano Guys

Someone To You by The Piano Guys

Shut Up And Dance - Simply Three

Runners Up

Miya Atsumu, Tsukishima Kei

[firefly464]

The Real World - Chapter 11

Ok so this ones a bit more of a slightly slower chapter and kinda does a bit more world building sooooo yeah. BUT ALSO THERES SOME WHOLESOME FRIENDSHIP MOMENTS SO THATS GOOD

Made in collaboration with @i-have-this-now​ Thank you to @rivys​ for beta reading and editing!

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~~~

Silence. Complete and total silence fell over the call as both Tubbo and Wilbur tried to process what Tommy was saying. The moment was tense, and loaded with unanswered questions. 

“Fuck…” Wilbur muttered. He didn’t know what else to say. He was in a state of shock. What was he supposed to do? He had just learned that two of his friends were trapped in another dimension, and that said dimension was going to be destroyed because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. 

“Yeah. I feel like that sums it up pretty well.” Tommy had no idea what he was supposed to be doing, or even feeling. There were so many emotions raging through his mind. Anger at Wilbur for talking to Dream. Relief that Tubbo and Wilbur weren’t screaming at him. Fear that his home was going to be destroyed.

God, he was sick of being afraid. He had felt nothing but fear and terror for a week straight, and thought that he had grown numb to it. He had thought wrong. The raw terror that coursed through his veins in that moment was nothing like he had ever felt before. It was cold and numbing. It made him want to just crawl into his bed and lay there. He felt completely and unbelievably hopeless. At least during the war there had been a small sliver of hope. A tiny beacon of light in all the darkness. It had been what kept him going. Now, there was nothing. He had no way of fighting back. No way of even contacting his friends and seeing if they were safe. He hated it.

“So. What’s the plan?” Tubbo’s voice shook Tommy from his intrusive thoughts. He couldn’t help but feel grateful for Tubbo’s optimism, despite the fact that he knew it was hopeless. “How are we gonna stop him?” 

“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice quiet. 

“We’re not just going to let him kill all those people, right? There's gotta be something we can do. Some way that we can stop him.”

“Tubbo, I-” “No, he’s right.” Will interjected. “We aren’t just going to sit around and do nothing. Besides, if what you said is true, then our Tommy and Dream are stuck there as well. We’re not just going to let them die.” 

“You guys don’t get it, do you…?” Tommy muttered. He knew his friends were trying their best, but the hopelessness of the situation was suffocating. It was like he was standing in a pool of quicksand, slowly being dragged down. Each time he struggled and tried to resist, he was only dragged down farther. He was tired of fighting it. “You can’t stop him. We don’t even know where he is.” Tubbo was silent for a moment. “What if we switched you guys back? We could figure out the command that swapped you in the first place and just run it again.”

“I mean, you can try. But wouldn’t you need Dream’s computer?” 

A sly grin spread across Tubbo’s face. “Who says I need access to his computer to access the server? Just give me a few minutes.” The sound of typing echoed through Tommy’s headphones.

He frowned, confused as to what was going on. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to access the server.” He didn’t offer any more information.

“While he’s doing that, maybe you could tell us more about what happened to you. How did you even end up involved with Dream? From the sounds of it, he's fucking terrifying,” Wilbur asked. He figured that the more they knew about what was going on, the easier it would be to try and solve their issue. 

“I… He used to disappear for really long periods of time. Eventually I got curious. I saw him leaving and tried to follow. He caught me pretty quickly. He… he said that he would kill everyone in L’Manberg if I didn’t go with him and do what he said.”

Wilbur’s eyes narrowed. That didn’t make any sense. Why on earth would Dream force Tommy to go with him if he hadn’t gone far? Something wasn’t adding up. “What-”

“I’M IN!” Tubbo yelled out, cutting off Will’s question. 

“You’re in?” Tommy asked.

“I have access to the server.” Tubbo explained. “Maybe I can try and contact them.”

“Wait, what do you mean you have access to the server?” Wilbur said.

“I have the console open, wait- here.” Tubbo started sharing his screen on Discord. 

A black background filled with white text that neither Wilbur nor Tommy could understand appeared on the screen. It was filled with coordinates and commands that were constantly being updated every couple of seconds. A waterfall of white text was filling Tubbo’s screen. He could see a grayed out command that read ‘/msg TommyInnit hello?’.

“Hey, wait a second,” Wilbur said. “Tubbo’s commands aren’t working.”

“Do you think it could be some sort of activation key?” Tommy asked, but it sounded more like a statement.

“...Exactly. How did you know?” Tubbo asked.

“I think I may know where that is.”

~~~

“What the fuck?” Tommy held the wooden bow in his hands, staring at the blinking light. “Have either of you ever seen this kinda thing before?”

“Why the hell would I know anything? I’ve been here as long as you have,” Dream remarked as he took another drink from the glass bottle. 

“I dunno, maybe because you’re the server owner?”

“Just because I’m the server owner doesn’t mean I know what's happening.” 

“Well, maybe you should.”

Dream only rolled his eyes. Tubbo squirmed a bit. Seeing Dream acting so casual was… unnerving. The lack of a mask only made it ten times worse. Until an hour ago, he had never even seen the man’s face. It was always just the blank mask, cold and emotionless. Seeing the raw emotions on his face was somehow scarier than not seeing them at all. A shudder ran down his spine. 

“Tubbo? Any ideas?” 

Tubbo jumped slightly, caught off guard by the sudden question. “Huh? O-oh! No, I don’t know. Sorry man, I’ve never seen anything like this before.” 

A sigh escaped him as he ran a hand over the leather wrapped grip. The blinking light stared up at him, almost taunting him in a way. That was when he felt it. A small raised section of the grip, right where his finger would sit if he were holding it normally. He frowned. “what the fuck?” 

“What? What is it?” Dream asked quickly. 

“I dunno. It’s just a weird bump…”

“Oh. That's it? It's probably just from the other Tommy making his bow wrong or something.” 

Tubbo shook his head, quick to defend his best friend. “No… Tommy was really good at making weapons. He wouldn’t have done something like that. It’s not like him.” 

Tommy’s brow furrowed as he ran his finger over the strange button. On a whim, he pressed down. 

A scream was torn from his throat as a robotic voice played in his ears. “Hello?” it said. 

“What the fuck?!” 

“Tommy?! Tommy are you ok?! What happened?!” Tubbo was instantly on his feet, trying to check on his friend. His instincts kicked in. Everything that had kept him and his friends alive during the war came rushing back to him as he frantically checked Tommy for any wounds or injuries. Nothing. No visible cuts or bruises. Maybe it was mental? Or a type of potion. Or maybe even- 

“Tubbo, Tubbo! I’m fine! I promise. Just a bit startled.” Tommy’s voice brought his train of thought to an abrupt halt. Tubbo sat back down, his face burning with shame. 

Dream stared at them in concern. “What happened?”

“Did you not hear it?” he furrowed his brow, trying to put the pieces together.

“Hear what?” 

“That weird voice thingy. I pressed the little button and the robot lady started talking.”

“You’re hearing voices now? Are you alright?” 

“Yes, Dream! I’m fine!” he cried out in exasperation. The blinking light on the grip of the bow had gone dark, leaving nothing but a regular wooden bow.

~~~

“How do you even know that they’re in your world?” Wilbur asked. Tubbo had already set the command in the server, and now the three of them were just waiting for some sort of results. Now, they were all just sitting around, trying to get more answers out of Tommy. “I mean, for all we know they could be floating out in the empty void of nothing.”

“No, I’m sure that your Tommy and Dream are in my world. Dream seemed really confident about it. He said something about it already being tested or whatever. 

“Tested? Tested on what?”

“I don’t know. He never told me. All he said was that the test had worked.”

“Alright, I’m just gonna be the one to say it, thats sketchy as fuck.” Tommy couldn’t help but jump. Tubbo had been so quiet while they were talking, he had forgotten that he was even there. “I mean, I get that he’s a sketchy guy, but that's just weird.”

Tommy took a deep breath to try and calm his racing heart. “Yeah… It really is. I learned pretty quickly not to question him though. He was fucking terifying whenever he got asked too many questions.” A shudder ran down his spine as he remembered the blank, emotionless mask. God, he hated that fucking mask. Every night, he was plagued with nightmares about it. 

“Tubbo, I think your command went through” Wilbur said, his voice cutting through the fog that was starting to build in Tommy’s mind. He looked at the screen. Sure enough, the grayed out text was now gone, replaced with a blank text box. 

“Someone must have found the trigger. Hopefully it was your Tommy and Dream. I’m not sure what would happen if someone else managed to get their hands on it.” 

“Either way, it should have only sent the message to Tommy, right?” Tubbo asked.

“I don’t fucking know. I wasn’t allowed anywhere near the console.”

“Probably because you’re a little gremlin child.” Will couldn’t help but make the snide comment. Maybe he just wanted to pretend, if only for a moment that nothing had changed. Maybe he was searching for a way to lighten the mood. He wasn’t sure. 

Either way, the comment earned him a cry of protest. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?!” 

“It means that you are a little gremlin boy. What else would it mean?” Despite his best attempts, he couldn’t quite keep the smile out of his voice.

“Alright, you son of a bitch, you listen here. I could beat your fucking ass in a fight, no questions asked.” Despite the harsh words, Tommy couldn’t help but grin. The friendly banter was familiar to him, and he couldn’t help but be thankful for it. In a world where everything was strange and foreign, it felt nice to have something that stayed consistent. 

“Oh yeah? Prove it”

“Alright. Next time I see you, how about we 1v1? Me versus you.” “Uh, I don’t think that's a really good idea,” Tubbo interjected.

“What? Why not? I’ve beaten him before, I’ll do it again.” Tommy’s voice was dripping with confidence. He may not have been nearly as strong here as he was back in his home world, but he still knew how to fight. Not to mention, he had spent most of the past week trying to get his strength back. 

“I don’t doubt it, it’s just that fighting someone is generally considered not good here”

“Are you serious? That's so lame! Back at home we used to spar all the time!” 

“Yeah, not here. Unless you’re in a fighting style sport, sparring just isn’t something that you do here” 

“Ughhhh, that’s so dumb.” he grumbled.

“So, uh, what’s the plan now?” Tubbo asked. On the screen, another /msg command was pulled up, ready to be sent. The message section itself was blank, but it was clear that Tubbo was itching to try and communicate with his best friend. 

“We just input the command, right? We swap you back, you guys could go home, and we get our Tommy and Dream back. Boom, problem solved.” Wilbur couldn’t help but feel slightly confused. Hadn’t that been the plan from the start? 

“I uh… I don’t know the command that he used,” Tommy admitted. 

“Fuck.”  The three sat in silence, trying to figure out what to do. Tommy couldn’t help but feel like hopelessness starting to drag him down again, pulling him down into the pit of quicksand. 

“What if we brought them to the console? That way they could actually respond and we might be able to come up with some sort of plan?” Tubbo suggested. 

He weighed his options. On one hand, it was the best bet they had. Hell, he was about 99 percent sure that Dream would have left some sort of clue as to what the command was, if only because he enjoyed the thrill of the danger. On the other, who knew what kind of trap Dream had set up. Knowing him, he would have expected them to do exactly this. No. No he couldn’t think like that. This was their one chance. It was his only chance at saving his home, at saving his friends. 

Swallowing his fear, he nodded. “Yeah. Alright, that sounds good.” 

~~~

“What the fuck?! Why is it blinking again?!” The small red light was back, blinking up at the blonde teenager annoyingly. 

“Press the button again?” Dream offered helpfully. 

“What? No! I’m not pressing that fucking button again! You press it if you’re so curious!” he tossed the bow onto the table carelessly, the loud noise making Tubbo flinch. 

Dream grabbed the weapon and looked over it. “Alright, maybe I will. Where did you say it was?” 

“On the grip, right next to the little light. It's really small though, you have to feel it.” 

“Got it!” with a soft click, Dream pressed down on the button. 

Instantly, the robotic voice echoed through Tommy’s mind once more. The voice was cold and metallic, with no emotion whatsoever. It reminded Tommy of pretty much every computer generated voice he had ever heard, only this time, it echoed through his skull. He could feel his teeth vibrating from the sheer volume of it. His eyes shook, causing the world to vibrate and jitter. It reminded him of when the bell had been rung, only this time he was the only one could hear it. 

“Hey Tommy, it's Tubbo. This other Tommy just told me and Wilbur everything that’s been going on. Don’t worry, we’re gonna get you out of there, alright? Apparently the other Dream is going to really fuck everything up if we don’t stop him. And by that I mean he’s going to delete the server and most likely kill all of you and I really don’t want that to happen. So we’re gonna stop it!”

The voice continued for a bit, explaining what the plan was and where he and Dream needed to go, and Tommy did his best to keep track of Tubbo’s directions. “... Anyways, we really miss you man. I swear, we’re gonna figure something out and get you guys home. Yours truly, big T.” The voice stopped, and Tommy blinked. Tears pricked at his eyes.

He didn’t really understand what was going on, but he did understand one thing: there was hope. He might be able to go home. Tubbo and Wilbur were going to bring them home. 

~~~

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[mikrowrites]

Stargirl { part iii }

Poe Dameron x Reader

(By the way, I listened to Like Real People Do by Hozier on loop while writing this, so if you want the same vibe listen away! Also this part’s a little short and fast, sorry about that!)

Y/N rubbed her red eyes, sitting back in the empty comm room. They had announced Poe dead today.

Cue the pitiful and sympathetic looks.

She took in the beeping of machines and closed her eyes, inhaling a shaky breath. Y/N’s heart ached, of course it was fated she fall in love with her best friend and he would valiantly die before she could say three words.

Three. Fucking. Words.

Three words Y/N could never find the courage to say to him and now her entire being was coursing with regret.

She had thought at first, maybe if I search the force... but no. No, she had sworn that off, and she would never use it again (or so she naively thought). Y/N let out a sigh before standing, grabbing her jacket and preparing to end her work for the night until she heard a sudden static.

Y/N sat back down, putting on her headphones and adjusting the mic. Her heart skyrocketed when she saw the calling location.

Jakku. Poe’s mission. On Jakku.

“This is Rebel Base Alpha.” Y/N shakily spoke, her ears ringing.

The static continued, her heart dropping and tears welling in her eyes. She began to take off the headphones—

“—05521. Lo—n Jakku—an you hear me? Hello?”

Y/N let out a sob, burying her face in her hands. The dumbass, reckless, beautiful pilot she had fallen too deep in love with spoke on the other end. His voice halted. “Y/N? Stargirl?”

She cried out again, shaking her head. “Poe...”

“Oh stars, Y/N. I can’t believe—Y/N I’m okay, I’m on Jakku, I need transport—“

“I love you!” Y/N blurted out, silencing Poe for a few moments.

A soft chuckle was heard on the other end. “About damn time, L/N.”

Y/N laughed.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Poe!”

Oh, what a past couple days.

The Raddus was gone. So was three-quarters of the Resistance, and a battering ram cannon had decimated the door to the bunker. Y/N had stayed in the makeshift comm room when it happened, as she ran down into the cold cave to meet Poe, who had tried to destroy the cannon.

It was over. The rebels had lost.

“Poe!” Y/N shouted, the curly haired man turning and rushing toward her, grasping her face between his calloused palms and pressing his lips against hers. It tasted of salt and grease and desperation, and neither wanted to admit that it was a goodbye.

“I love you, Stargirl.” Poe whispered as they pulled away. “Always and forever, Y/N Dameron.”

“I love you so much, flyboy.” Y/N smiled, hearing his name now a part of hers, the ring feeling colder against her chest.

Suddenly Poe tensed, whispering her name. Y/N stared up in confusion, seeing him staring off at someone.

She didn’t need to even need to turn, the force suddenly pungently invading her senses and causing Y/N to stumble back. She widened her eyes, swiveling to face him.

Luke stopped his steps, his heart aching at the sight of his former student. But yet, it soared seeing her grown and emitting such a light. But yet, failure and guilt resided in himself. “Y/N.”

“Master Luke.” Y/N breathed, her heart racing. He really had come to help the Resistance. Rey had done it. Y/N was convinced he’d never come. “You came.”

“I failed both of you once. I refuse to do it again.” Luke swore, walking forwards and grasping her hands. Y/N stiffened, but slowly relaxed, looking into her past master’s eyes. “I was never going to kill him. I shouldn’t have even ignited that saber. I needed to help him.”

Y/N smiled softly. “It’s all a cycle. We fail, and we succeed. If you hadn’t done what you did, I wouldn’t have found the best thing in my life.”

Luke looked at a shocked and star struck Poe, chuckled softly. “I’m glad I could give you that. Happiness. Love. That’s all I’d ever wish for you. Have that on me.”

The man pulled away from Y/N’s hands, resuming his tread to the hole in the doors, to face the past student he had failed, his heart filled with determination at the prospect of a light in the dark.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Where’d the ice creatures go?”

Y/N whipped her head up. They were frantically searching for an escape as Luke held the First Order off.

Poe led the Resistance into the tunnels, Y/N following behind. One of the ice creatures was scrambling away, the desperate people following, praying to live another day.

Y/N stopped in her tracks, Poe letting out a cry of anguish and Finn sighing.

And ice creature squeezed itself within a tiny crevice in a rock pile, and as Poe and Finn attempted to move the rocks, the feat seemed impossible.

Meanwhile, Rey stood outside, feeling the presence of several people. She raised her hand, about to use the force when rocks began to lift, much to her surprise.

“Poe.” Y/N murmured. “I could try...”

“No, you haven’t used the force in years, you can’t hurt yourself to-“

“I wasn’t asking.” Y/N interrupted. “Do you have a better idea?”

Poe was silent, kissing Y/N’s temple. She raised her hand, closing her eyes.

The rocks and boulders began to lift, the pressure building up in Y/N’s head splitting. She furrowed her eyebrows, letting out a cry as she pushed the force even further.

All the rocks lifted, the Resistance members rushing out into the light of day. Finn exclaimed, running to Rey and throwing his arms around her.

“Who... is she?” Rey questioned, fixing her gaze on Y/N, who was holding the rocks for the remaining few to escape.

“That’s Y/N.” Finn grinned, Rey’s eyebrows raising. Y/N...

A thick layer of sweat covered Y/N’s temple, shouting as she threw the rocks to the side. She saw Poe’s grinning face as he turned back to her.

Y/N smiled as the world focused out, her vision going black.

“Y/N!” Poe shouted, running forwards in time to catch her before she hit the ground, scooping her up and brushing hair away from her face. “Y/N/N? Stargirl?”

Rey ran forwards. She placed her hand on Y/N’s head, closing her eyes. “She’s fine. Just tired. Strained.”

Poe looked at the young girl in surprise. “I’m Poe.”

“Rey.” The girl smiled. “We can get her on the Falcon with the others.”

Poe nodded, adjusting Y/N to carry her bridal-style as they rushed onto the ship.

He sat on the worn leather seats of the ship, holding Y/N on his lap. Poe brushed his finger against her cheek, thanking Maker they were safe.

Perhaps that future was theirs. A house, two mundane jobs, maybe a couple kids. A domestic life without war or hurt or death. Just love and light. Poe smiled, the thought easing his mind.

Hours later Y/N awoke, her ears hearing Poe’s light snores and gentle heartbeat. She smiled, inhaling and exhaling and tapping on his cheek.

His eyes flickered open, a smile breaking across his face as she pulled him in, deepening a kiss. No more goodbyes, no more hurt. Y/N ran her fingers through his hair, Poe trailing small pecks across her neck. She connected with his lips again, her heart fluttering as they finally pulled apart.

Y/N rested her forehead against Poe’s, smiling softly. His chocolate eyes met her Y/E/C ones, as he reached around and unclasped the chain around her neck.

Poe let the chain drop to the floor, holding the ring between his thumb and index finger.

“Marry me?”

Y/N smiled, sitting back. She nodded her head, biting her lip as Poe slid the ring onto her finger. He met her eyes again, the two relishing the moment between them.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Y/N ran into the hangar, sprinting towards the evac rescue ship. She slowed at the sight of a gathered crowd, beginning to shove past people.

Poe was back. The transmission had come through he had been picked up, and Y/N had been on the edge of her seat all day.

The moment word broke that they were back on D’Qar, Y/N didn’t even excuse herself as she burst out of the room. Leia had chuckled, shaking her head and smiling.

Y/N broke through the crowd, crying out at the sight before her. Poe looked up at the sound, while he himself was being wheeled down in a medevac stretcher. “Y/N!” He gasped.

Y/N felt tears roll down her cheeks as she burst forwards, running over to him. She cupped his face in her palms while looking over his injuries.

“I’m fine, Stargirl. I’m here.” He assured, wrapping his hands softly around her wrists, Y/N shaking her head.

“Shut up.” She growled before crashing her lips against his. He let out a grunt before kissing back, a couple whoops and hollers from other pilots echoing through the hangar.

The two broke apart laughing, Y/N following the stretcher out, her fingers intertwined with Poe’s and never letting go.

“I love you, Stargirl.”

end.

A/N: yay!!! The end... unless...? Haha I only had these three parts planned, but depending on what happens in The Rise of Skywalker, I’ll continue it on! Otherwise, I hope y’all enjoyed!

Taglist: @taina-eny @sarcasticallyhateful

[thedukeoftrash]

Remus’ Cry

This has a lot of suicide mention in it, along with suicide so I do not recommend you reading this if that is triggering for you. It is also angsty and there is a lot of unsympathetic character traits in almost all of the sides. (Also please tell me if I miss anything in the tags.)

The sides liked days like these. Where the weather was nice, the tension was gone and no arguments going on.

When the mind palace was silent and at peace for once.

But when Remus popped up in the kitchen, they all knew that was about to be gone.

The majority of them groaned in annoyance, while a few of them rolled their eyes and let out a silent sigh before he had spoken a word.

He kept a smirk on nonetheless and greeted them loudly. The only ones that responded was a nervous smile from Patton and a nod from Deceit.

Remus took a seat beside Virgil, who scooted his chair away, not bothering with being subtle. And the mustached man pretended not to notice only sending him a toothy smile that was hissed at.

A couple of minutes of silence passed, the only sounds being heard were the clinking of utensils, the soft music from Virgil’s headphones that he had around his neck and Remus’ shaking leg that he couldn’t keep still.

Remus then blurted out when the silence got too much, “Hey what if I throw myself off of a bridge into a body of water? Would I die from the impact or the drowning?” The others gave him looks of disgust and cringe.

Patton asked nervously, “Kiddo…could you not do that right now? We’re trying to eat breakfast.” He smirked back at him, making the shorter man curl in on himself and avoid eye contact. Logan glared at him while Roman gave a warning look with Virgil. Deceit just drank his coffee, staring off into space with a blank expression.

They ate mostly silently, choosing to ignore any and all comments he made. Including when he asked if they could pass over some salt and he had to reach over and grab it, knocking over Virgil’s coffee and getting shouted at for five minutes.

Patton told his gloomy son after they all finished, “You’re on dish duty today.” Virgil grumbled lowly, but got up and began collecting the dishes.

Remus jumped up. “I’ll help!”

Virgil shot him a look. “I’m good, I don’t need you making them even dirtier.”

He hesitated momentarily but gathered up the rest of the dishes and told him gleefully, “Blasphemy, wannabe emo. I can help!” Patton just gave him a helpless shrug and the darker dressed man rolled his eyes.

“Fine, just dry the dishes and don’t put anything on them. I’m watching you.”

“Ooo, kinky.” Virgil sneered back in disgust and began washing the dishes quickly, wanting to get it over with. Remus happily dried each one that he was handed roughly, ignoring the glares and quiet remarks he got.

Finally, he finished up and shoved the plates and utensils back into their designated spots, ready to bolt back into his room. Virgil knew that Patton wouldn’t be too pleased with him decking another, no matter who it was getting decked. And he was starting to lose his patience with him.

Remus then asked suddenly as he finished the last plate, “What if I just downed an entire bottle of bleach right now?”

Virgil snarked back as he walked out of the kitchen, “Do it, maybe it’ll finally shut you up.” Remus clutched the plate to his chest, never wanting to shove a drink faster down his throat then he did now.

His hands began to shake the more he thought of it and eventually he felt the plate shatter beneath his grip.

He cursed at the damn fragile plate and picked up the shards. Holding them tighter than necessary so they would bury into his skin and draw red.

He wondered how much they would hurt if he swallowed them. But didn’t get the chance when Patton found him hours later, with the shards dug into his skin.

He got a lecture before being ushered out of the kitchen by Patton who told him ‘to go clean up his wounds so they don’t get infected’. Remus knew Patton didn’t really care and just wanted him out of the way.

He spent the rest of the day in the bathroom, picking out and biting at his hands for any shards that were stuck.

Dinner was called out by their father side just as he was getting the last one out. And he hurried down to see the others sitting down already, his chair being shoved to the corner of the table where no one sat.

He pretended that they did it because they wanted him near the head of the table so they could see him better.

But lying wasn’t his forte though and just picked at his food, dropping in the occasional nasty comment just so the others didn’t entirely forget that he was there.

A movie marathon was put on afterward, each of the sides choosing a movie. He couldn’t help the giddy feeling when the others let him put his movie in the pile as well. Even if his was placed at the bottom of it.

They were halfway through a Disney movie with Roman singing along to the song, when Remus decided to speak again.

“If I tied a rope around my neck and jumped off a chair would I die from the suffocation or the neck-snapping?”

Roman snapped at him, frustrated at his brother’s continuous interruptions, “I don’t know Remus, how about you go find out?!” He just grinned back, never realizing how much worse it looked when he had to fake it.

Everyone let out a breath when he kept silent and the movie continued. But he could barely focus on the shitty Disney movie that was playing. And felt that weight return in his chest, it distracted him enough to keep his comments about the movie silent.

Hours passed by, the weight growing more and more but finally, the movies ran out and it was his turn. He grinned again, hopping up from behind the couch and ready to put it in.

But paused when the others began getting up.

He asked quickly before they could hurry off, “Wait! Where are you guys going, we still have one movie left.” He left out the part that it was his movie.

Patton quickly made up an excuse, “Sorry Remus, it’s getting pretty late and we’re all tired. Maybe another time?” He didn’t wait for an answer and was already hurrying upstairs with the others following behind.

He felt his face fall until a throat cleared beside him and he turned, almost screaming in joy when he saw Double Dee still there.

“You just going to stare or will you put the disk in?” He practically jumped from behind the couch and put the movie in, actually sitting on the couch when he got back.

He never smiled so much for something so little, and couldn’t get rid of it for the rest of the movie. Which did unnerve Deceit when the people were getting brutally slaughtered on screen, though he chose to ignore it. Not wanting to risk asking any questions that would lead to nightmares.

And when the movie was done, he gave a quick goodbye and went upstairs leaving Remus behind in the darkness.

Later the next day, Remus popped up into the library and quickly spotted the nerd sitting in a chair by a fireplace with a book in hand and a cup of tea beside him.

Logan glanced up at the sudden noise and groaned in irritation at the side’s presence.

“Make this quick Remus,” he told him before he taking a long sip that steamed up his glasses some.

Remus bounded over to him and crouched by the side of the chair, asking, “What ya reading there senpai?”

“First, never call me senpai again. And second, what do you want, stop beating around the metaphorical bush.”

Remus questioned him, “When did you learn metaphors? Deceit is that you?” He reached up to poke his cheek but Logan swatted his hand away, frustration starting to build.

He warned, “Remus, I will only repeat myself one time. What do you want?”

“How many ibuprofen could I take before I die?”

Logan slammed his book shut, now realizing his time was being wasted for no real reason. “Just take the entire damn bottle and leave me alone,” he growled at the intrusive side.

Remus flinched back, eyes widening slightly at the librarian wannabe’s glare.

Finally, he got up and sank back out without another word making the logic side let out a sigh and return to his reading.

Remus popped up in the lying side’s room. Afraid, for once, to be alone. His mind kept screaming at him but he was more terrified of it becoming silent.

His only friend would listen to him, right?

The half-snake side sat at his desk with papers scattered over it. His hat hanging on the back of the chair and his hair was messy.

Remus could tell he was stressed but didn’t know who else to turn to. Everyone else already made their opinions on the matter clear. He was hoping that one of them would be different.

And now there was only one left to ask.

“Deceit?” He asked hesitantly

He sighed heavily, barely glancing up from his desk. “Yes, Remus?”

He forced a grin, trying to stop the tears welling in his eyes. “Imagine with me, you find my body in the tub with blood and cuts running down my arms. What do you do?”

Deceit hissed at him, “Tell you to clean up your damn mess or to do it outside, I have work to do Remus! Not all of us can just sit around and waste others’ time like you!”

He felt his world crumble around him at those words. Now he knew that each side would be more then happy if he was gone.

He wondered if he would be happy too.

“Sorry, Dee,” He mumbled, making the other straighten up in shock but when he turned, Remus was grinning again. “I’ll just get out of your double dee’s now.”

Deceit scoffed, looking back at his papers. “Good, now leave me alone and find someone else to irritate.”

He couldn’t stop the water that slipped from his eyes and down his face. He sank out and back up into his own room.

The silence was unnerving, even for him. He changed out of his duke outfit, not wanting for it to get ruined, and pulled on a tank top and sweatpants.

He wanted to scream until he lost his voice. He wanted to break something. The wall, the door, his bed, his arm, his leg, his neck.

He wanted to cry.

That was stupid though. Crying was stupid. This was all stupid. Why was he even getting all mournful about this? What he was doing was a good thing, right?

All the other sides would agree with it. Maybe they would even smile.

He convinced himself over and over that what he was doing was right. Amazing even. Perhaps they would thank him for it and celebrate each year with a cake and party hats just for this day.

So why did the weight keep getting heavier and heavier in his chest? He wondered if he could be crushed from the inside out.

No, he couldn’t die from that. It was lame and pathetic. It would make the others laugh at him, not with. He needed to hurry up and stop wasting time for the others.

He locked his room for the final time. Though he was starting to wonder what the point was when none ever come by his room anyways.

How long would it take for them to notice his absence? Or would they even? Would they notice the smell before anything else? Or would they think nothing of it until it got so bad that they had to go into his room just to make it stop?

Oh well, it doesn’t matter too much. Hopefully, his rotting flesh would leave a lingering scent forever.

So they can’t forget about him entirely.

Remus wondered if he should leave a note. Most people left a note in the movies. But he didn’t know if they would even bother reading it so he decided against it.

He glanced down at the object that he had created years ago as just a fun project and sat on top of his dresser for years collecting dust and spider webs. He rubbed eyes violently, attempting to clear them up from the tears blurring them before reaching over and taking it in a shaky hand.

Wiping the dust away with the tears that fell onto the metal and placed a finger on the trigger.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t interrupt the others too much with the noise.

Downstairs the sides sat in the living room, hours have passed by since any have seen the rat. All of them remained in a peaceful silence as they enjoyed one another’s presence. Each of them hoping the rest of the day would remain that way.

But a loud bang rang through the house, interrupting the silence momentarily. Virgil stiffened up and look around at the others who barely seemed bothered by it.

“Did any of you hear that?”

Logan replied as he turned to the next page, “Probably just Remus, it’s best if we pretend we didn’t hear it.” Virgil nodded, sinking back into the couch.

“Yeah, you’re right. Hey Patton what were we thinking for dinner?”

Patton brightened up as he spoke, “Well I was thinking we could go out on a picnic as a family, just the five of us.”

Roman continued with a bright smile, “Sounds amazing padre, we shall have it in the imagination. I’ve been wanting to show you all the light show I’ve been working on!”

Deceit replied, his eyes remaining closed as he laid on the couch, “I’ll only come if you don’t freeze the place like last time, I would prefer not passing out again.”

Roman rolled his eyes with a loud sigh. “You’re overreacting, but fine I’ll turn the heat up some. Happy?” He got flipped off before Patton could catch it and Virgil couldn’t help the snicker.

Logan smiled softly at their antics. “Alright, well I’ll be bringing along my telescope, do you plan on bringing out the constellations Roman?” He got a nod which made his eyes light up in glee. “Wonderous news, I can’t wait.”

The silence returned again, letting them imagine how the night would go. But in the silence, Virgil began to notice the small pit in his stomach and felt like something was wrong.

[a-cai-jpg]

a love letter.

i was told to write something about the loudest silence i’ve ever experienced.

i didn’t look too deeply into my memories to find a moment; i thought of one as i was writing the previous post.

it’s 5am in the morning. nobody is speaking, but i keep hearing the whispers of strangers in a foreign tongue. i try to grasp onto a voice, a word, but i come up with nothing concrete, and i stop before i start getting frustrated. our friends sit beside us, maybe in a different row, across the aisle. they are asleep.

you are on your phone, eyes tired because you’re jetlagged, having flown on a whim across the world to spend a week with us in italy. i’m trying to occupy my mind. maybe i’m reading. maybe i’m writing. maybe i’m listening to the roar of the train engine in my sleepy haze.

i glance out the window by chance, and the countryside spanning rome and florence rushes past us. i think back on the patio of the restaurant by the street, the square-shaped pizza, and the tiramisu the restaurant owner talked me into ordering. thirty minutes before that, we were sweaty and hungry and a little more than delirious. kayla is wearing too many layers for the seventy degrees weather. i am carrying a heavy backpack, and my shirt is soaked through with sweat. you ran the last few yards of the block, and we reunited noisily on the streets of rome.

i’m idly running the past few days through my head--a mishmash of the heartache of paris and the feverish dream of rome--and the sun breaks out from the clouds.

i turn to you after a moment, because sometimes you need some time to process the beauty of nature and life before you can share it with someone else. i try to say something to you, but my words are swallowed by the white noise of the train cabin. you don’t hear me, so i lean over to tap you on the shoulder and jab a finger towards the window.

the sun rises, and a different memory settles in. A different time, a different bench, a different (but not really) you sitting across from me. it’s freshman year, two weeks into school. i’m working on a general chemistry problem set, and you slide into the booth across from me and start talking. i look at you and kayla, a little confused, a little uncomfortable, but you both keep talking

it takes a second for my mind to catch up with the conversation, to remember your names, but i eventually do, and i show you an unnecessarily lengthy way of solving a problem.

it’s funny, because our memory jumps between then and now. the next memory i have is messaging you in the stilted, polite, exclamation marks-ridden way between acquaintances. then, it’s a football game, banging on your door. then, it’s a non-chronological sequence of playing music in the lyon’s chapel, movie watching, a hug after our first winter break, and then weirdly, rome. if i tried a little harder, i’d remember philadelphia, chicago, probably other things as well, but right now, my fingers are cold, and my chest is constricted, and i might have had too little to eat and too much coffee, and i can’t remember anything but italy.

the walk across the river at night, the dim illumination of street lamps, our giggling shadows thrown across the pavement, sitting outside the basilica papale di santamaria maggioe, drunken laughter as we run down the streets in front of st. peter’s and our airbnb. i see rome in dusk--different slices of space and time, with the sun setting in the background.

the sun is gone. maybe we’re shuttling through a tunnel. maybe it hides behind a hill or a pocket of trees, but the moment is over. you look disappointed, a little exasperated at yourself. i laugh, but my mind is reeling.

“i’m so excited for the future,” i hear someone else say in my not-so-distant memories.

i hear the train hurtling through space.

it happens another time.

we’re in iceland. i’m outside our airbnb, digging my boots into the dark sand right by the lake. half of me contemplates wading in. the other half is more rational, but not by much. it’s cold outside, and i should go back to the cabin, but i can’t bring myself to move towards it. my fingers are numb, but i’m calm and stick them deep into my pockets, like my coat will sustain me for a few more hours out here. 

manta ray plays through my headphones. i don’t know what the song is about, but i can’t help but feel it’s somewhat fitting. i look up, and the universe opens up above me, and i want to cry.

i write letters in my head to friends. later, i’ll re-write them so they’re less raw and more concise, and maybe send them.

i look up at the stars until i’m dizzy and feel myself tipping backwards. it’s crazy how silent it is. i’ve written about this before--it’s like i’m inside a photograph. i can’t even hear the passage of time, even as song after song plays. i drag my body against the resistance and look back at the cabin.

there’s the warm, yellow light filtering through the window, but my gaze travels to the big dipper. i take a sharp breath, and my heart drops, because i know i can’t be alone. i can’t look at the big dipper, larger than i’ve ever seen it, alone, and i have to go inside and get you guys and tell you guys to look at it with me.

it takes a while. i stand there for five minutes. maybe ten. i don’t know how many songs have played during that time, but i know my playlist is quickly reaching its end. but then, my memory skips. i’m inside the cabin, asking if you want to see the big dipper. you guys blink, take a second to register the words that are tumbling shakily from my tongue, numbed by the cold. then, you’re scrambling, grabbing your coat, and following me outside.

the universe is kind. it doesn’t hide itself away, and bares itself to us. 

the silence is gone, and i hear your voices. they’re hollow in the night, and i feel like they’re reaching me slowly. i’m trembling, but i stick my hands deep into my pockets and look back up at the sky.

see, i’ve been wondering about things that you can’t fix.

there’s always a part of me that wants to burn bridges, jump on a train and go as far as it will take me. it comes out at night, right now, usually when my heart’s dropped into my stomach. but then, i think about these moments. the urge within my psyche that wants to share the most beautiful parts of the world with the people i love.

and see, that’s the problem. when things break, the world fragments, and i can’t separate the person from the place. i think back to ginza, and i remember the peculiar unfamiliar familiarity of meeting a childhood friend. i think back to nikko, and i remember our giddiness at the top of a mountain. i think back to rome, and i remember wine and pasta and a restaurant reservation.

so i guess what i’m saying is. i’m a very wishy-washy person. i’m a very selfish person. i didn’t learn what it meant to fight to death to not lose something until the last few years. and even though i am learning, there are things i know i am not willing to lose. so unfortunately, you are stuck with me now, from 2015 ad infinitum.

i hope that when i die, if god grants me a moment to live through my life again, i will be able to remember and hold the memories that i’ll have forgotten, from the moment you sidled up to me in that lobby of that weird, scary looking building, and asked if i liked krnb.

yeah, i do, because of you.

[yehet-me-up]

Our Firsts / My Last

Pairing: Exo Mall Chanyeol x reader 

Genre: fluff/emo/angst (all the feels)

Rating: PG13 for language and mentions of sex

Word Count: 2,089

Request: fuck can i add 12 to that too. i’m sweating 12. ‘I can still get you wet and I can still make you laugh.’ @yeoldontknow I hope you like your 90s dream husband <3 Also including the “Semi-charmed life” song fic request in here since it’s already a 90s boi smorgasbord!

The first time I saw you it was seven a.m. the morning of our first day of Junior year at Burke, it was cold and rainy. Unsurprising, given it was Seattle, but sometimes the freezing sleet even caught me off guard. 

I was hiding under the cover of the walkway by the gym, making plans with Baekhyun for a back-to-school concert at the fountain when I saw you sprinting through the rain.

I don’t know what it was that drew me to you, even all these years later. 

Was it the way your nose wrinkled with amusement as you stood under the cover of the opposite walkway by the student center? 

Was it the long black coat you wore, with the big silver buttons, that made you look so much older than your sixteen years? 

Was it the way your hair stuck to your face and made me wish my fingers could do the same in that moment? 

Was it your backpack covered with band logo patches that I could see even from across the way?

Whatever it was, it stuck. 

I watched you walk away and disappear through the doors until Baekhyun elbowed me. I had no idea who you were then, had no premonition of how you’d become my everything. I only knew that I wanted to talk to you.

The first time I heard your name, later that day in Advanced Placement Music Theory, I wanted to tattoo it across my forehead. 

From my usual spot in the back of the class I watched you take careful notes of the syllabus. Mine was already crumpled and shoved in my backpack. I’d long ago given up doing anything in school for the grades or the prestige; I did music for the love of it.

It’s still such a clear moment - how I was drumming my fingers on my knee, staring up at the Coltrane poster Mr. Caruso had hung alongside several others. 

But then you spoke, and my world changed. 

All I wanted was for you to keep talking and never stop. You could read the ingredients on a can of soup and I would be entranced. The phone book would sound like poetry in your rich and steady voice.

It was three days before I got my chance to talk to you one on one. After lunch and before class I learned you waited in the music room with your headphones on and your eyes closed. 

My heart jumped into my throat when I saw you sitting there, lost in the music. I focused on putting one foot in front of the other and sat down in the seat next to you.

The sounds of Van Halen coming through were not what I was expecting and I liked that. So many people are predictable, a puzzle that’s too easy to solve - and I was learning you’re nothing like that.

Taking a deep breath I tapped you on the shoulder. I’m sorry for the way I scared you, still. But I can’t deny your shriek made me laugh. Still does.

When you turned those eyes on me, I was a goner. 

When you smiled as me and told me about how your dad introduced you to the band, along with many others, I was a goner. 

When you leaned over and wrote the name of an album I knew, but pretended I didn’t, on a piece of paper, your perfume reached me and I was a goner. 

When you said my name, as more people started filing into the class, you looked so beautiful as you tried out the word on your tongue, I was a goner.

The first time Kyungsoo invited you to Dick’s drive in with us after class it felt so right I had to check myself from reaching for you. 

What would you have done if I’d slid my arm around your shoulders and pulled you against my side? Would you have given me one of those dazzling smiles and wrapped your arm around my waist? Would you have shoved me off and raised a brow?

I can’t know, but I know that night was the first time I realized I wanted to touch you more than I wanted to breathe. You dished it right back out to Baekhyun whenever he made a joke. You and Kyungsoo were friends first and it burned in my stomach for about five minutes until I realized you were really, truly, just friends.

You talked with me about Nirvana until a sleepy Baekhyun made us finally part. As I drove us back to our respective homes I realized I wanted to be yours and I wanted you to be mine.

The first time I touched you, two weeks later at a concert by the Needle, I didn’t want any hands but mine to know how soft your skin is. Baekhyun made us late and we were stuck at the back of the crowd, by the fountain. I held your hand to help you climb up on one of the concrete benches and I didn’t want to let go.

Did you know then, that I was falling in love with you? Is that why you let me hold on for far longer than the situation dictated? Is that why you smiled at me softly through your lashes before turning away suddenly?

When I asked you out a few weeks later, did you know that I was sweating underneath my hoodie? I was sure I’d die if you said no. 

I told you I liked you in every way. You said you felt the same. Nothing has ever come close to how my heart exploded in that moment. Well, nothing until last Halloween when you agreed to marry me.

I realized I loved you the first time I kissed you, in my car after the party. 

As I held your face in my hands and finally, finally, got to taste you, I was ruined for anyone else. 

In all the years we spent apart, whenever I’d see someone and wonder if I should go after her, I’d think of that kiss. 

The way we fogged up the windows. The way you laughed as you climbed over the gear shift and onto my lap so you could ‘get a better handle on me.’ 

The way our make up was absolutely ruined and neither of us cared. The way you were finally, deliciously, absolutely, completely mine.

The first time I told my parents about you, I said you were my girlfriend, but an odd part of my brain almost made me say wife instead. 

It’s funny to think about it, now that you’ll officially be that next week. But in the moment, at seventeen, I was shaken. 

It was like the wormhole in that episode of Star Trek Baek loves. As if the current moment when you were my newly minted girlfriend and the eventual moment in the future when we’d be married smacked together and exploded in my mind.

Did I look like I’d seen a ghost, that night when we went to the movies together? Did I play with your hair too much, kiss your shoulder too much, stroke the skin of your thigh too much? Did you wonder where the intensity came from?

I sat there for hours in the dark. I don’t even remember what the movie was anymore. All I could think about or see was you. I wondered what kind of magic spell you’d cast over me that suddenly I wanted nothing but you. You, my friends, music, Seattle. Nothing else mattered.

I held onto that wild dream for weeks, hoping you wouldn’t realize that I wasn’t good enough for you and leave.

The first time we made love I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Holding you and being inside you was the most vulnerable and raw experience of my life up until that point or since. I know you felt it too, how my heart was yours and yours was mine. How we’d taken our souls and bonded them forever. 

When I woke up that next morning holding you I cried as you slept. I wept silent tears of awe and gratitude and love until I silently laughed to myself and woke you up. I wiped the wetness off my cheeks and kissed you to distract you from the fact that my heart was in my eyes. 

You were a tsunami that came in and swept all else away. All I could do was surrender to the glorious moment and thank the universe for sending you my way.

The first time we argued I almost got on my knees to beg you to stay. It wasn’t even a fight, really. Just me overreacting to the way Daniel Abrams put his hand on your shoulder at the concert my band played, just after New Year’s.

I listed endless reasons why you should stay with me that night. Said that I was the only one who could make you laugh so hard you snorted. That I could get you wet with a look. That I’d never be threatened that you’re going to be more successful than I was. That I was the only one who got your music taste. The only one who would never laugh at you when you cry over how beautiful meteor showers are.

I brought myself so small at the thought of you leaving that it scared me. When you crouched down and pulled me into your arms, when you said you loved me like you’d never loved anyone, when you said you’d never leave, that’s when I finally relaxed.

I knew in that moment you were my home and my family and I’d do anything to protect you.

The first time I lost you, it was my fault. I was terrified of holding you back, of being the thing to ruin your future. I saw the way my parents were dismissive of me and couldn’t imagine anything worse than waking up ten, twenty, thirty years later and realizing I’d failed you, tied you to a life you didn’t want.

It broke me apart to leave and only your faith and trust put me back together again, when you forgave me and took me back. When I woke in the morning after our second first time together I swore I’d never be stupid enough to lose you again.

I knew I’d propose to you eleven months before I did it. At the Rolling Stones and Third Eye Blind concert at the Kingdome you surprised me with for my birthday, I knew that I wanted to ask you on Halloween.

As we swayed back and forth under the lights, surrounded by the crowd, I could already see it. 

I’d be Gomez and you’d be Morticia. I’d set up that sweet gazebo in Baekhyun’s backyard with rose petals and turn on every single twinkle light he had. At midnight I’d take you out back and serenade you with all your favorite songs and probably cry (okay, by now you know I actually did cry).

I’d get down on my knee and take your hands in mine and kiss them and I’d tell you how you own every part of me. I’d tell you there’s nothing of mine that isn’t also yours. I’d tell you I love you wholly and completely, but without expectation. I’d tell you I never want to cage you in, I just want to be the one who gets to fly beside you.

I spent all night lost in the music with you in my arms, planning our future. It went even better than I planned. 

Now I’m sitting here, trying to write my vows, and all I want to do is tell our story to the world. 

About how I was a fool and let the person I loved go to save them, but by some miracle you still came back to me. I’d say that we became even stronger people without each other, and now that we’re together they’ll have to pry me off you with a crowbar. 

How I learned that if something is meant to be, if two people are meant to be, they’ll both fight for it.

All I want to sing is our love story. What else could I promise you that you don’t already have? 

My heart is yours. My body. My soul. My past. My present. My future.

My first. My last. My always and forever love.

My wife.

[thenamesseven]

Plot: Mark never believed in mates until his eyes landed on you one fateful afternoon.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Mentions of death.

Ooff, this was my first supernatural au! I hope this was more or less what you wanted! 😊

You were late.

Mark glanced down at his watch, his foot tapping the floor nervously. If you didn’t get to the bus stop in two minutes you would lose the bus and that would definitely ruin Mark's day.

Vampires weren't huge fans of public transports, even a civilized one like him got a little tense in them, the reason was obvious though, being locked up in a place with a bunch of humans wasn't a funny thing to do. Kind of risky on the days he was feeling hungry, like that one time Bambam dared Yugyeom to get on one when he hadn’t fed in days and he almost ended up biting the old lady sitting in front of him. Idiots.

Mark wasn't there for a bet though. Since that fateful afternoon when he was forced to take the bus due to the heavy raining, since that moment you caught the bus seconds before the driver closed the doors, Mark has been taking the same bus at the same hour everyday to just get a glimpse of you.

He didn’t believe in soulmates, does he even have a soul now that he is dead? But for some reason, when you walked passed him and your sweet, intoxicating scent hit him Mark knew he was bound to you. It was the way you looked so bright, so pure and innocent, so alive to him that kept his fangs hidden and at a safe distance from your neck. Although no matter how far away from him you chose to seat, Mark could hear your heart beating, he could listen to your blood flooding through your veins.

His instincts were conflicted when it came to you. Most of him wanted to bit you, to hear you groan in pain as he drinks your blood, to show you his dominance and how you belonged to him but there was also a really tiny bit of him that didn't want to ruin you the way he was ruined one day, there was a sense of protection whenever you were around, after all you were his and if something happened to you the lost would be mortal for his dead heart.

That's why, now that you weren’t getting on the bus on time Mark was freaking out a little. What if you were hurt? What if you were kidnapped or robbed? What if you passed out somewhere? He was ready to walk around the entire city to find you, standing up from his seat to start his long journey when, by the corner of his eye, Mark spotted your messy hair. The sound of your constant apologies to the driver -who lowkey had been waiting for you to arrive too- was music to his ear and the sight of your shy smile was a bless.

As you walked down the bus, aiming for the free sit next to his, Mark looked down to his hands hiding the small yet excited smile on his lips. It would be the first time in two weeks that you were going to finally sit besides him and although having you so close would be some kind of sick torture for him, it would also give him a glimpse of what living in Heaven could be like.

“Can I sit here?” You asked him, catching his attention.

“Sure” Mark smiled and nodded, forcing his eyes to look through the window so he could stare at your reflection without getting caught.

Little did he know that the curiosity he felt towards you was mutual since you had also become a bit intrigue by his presence. You had never seen him before that rainy afternoon and after your eyes met for a few seconds that time, he suddenly started getting the same bus as you at the same time. It might be a coincidence of course, as much as you knew, he could be just somebody who moved into the city and was heading to home back from work, maybe he just moved into another zone and needed to get this bus like her...Whatever it was, it didn't sound convincing enough to her and she kept thinking he was there to meet each other.

Although no more than smiles and silent glances were exchanged, he kept coming back probably feeling the same pull as her. Today was the first time you were sitting besides him, he didn't radiate warmth like you thought he would but the shy smile on his lips was enough to melt your heart into a puddle.

“Are you new around here?” Call yourself bold, curiosity always got the best of you.

“Mhm?” Mark reply, merely confused by your question.

“I’ve never seen you around before" You shrugged softly, trying to get a bit more information from him.

“Oh! No I'm not new around” His smile widened and the bright of his white teeth could have blinded you “My car just broke a couple of days ago so I just have to take the bus”

That’s when you knew he was lying. You two met almost three weeks ago and if his car broke a couple of days ago, why would he have needed to get the bus for? It was cute though, he wasn't trying to be a creep like others would have.

“I'm Mark by the way” He would extend his hand to shake yours but he doesn't want to tell you he's dead yet.

“Nice to meet you Mark, I'm (Y/N)” You responded with a smile

Mark nodded, his eyes meeting yours “Pretty name for a pretty lady, mhm?” He chuckled at the soft shade of pink ascending from your neck to your cheeks, your fingers suddenly playing with your long forgotten earphones.

Not used to compliments you always got a little awkward around them so instead of saying a small thanks or just change the subject you awkwardly shoved one of your earphones to Mark's chest, surprising him “Want to listen to some music?” You asked nervously, avoiding his eyes as you scrolled through your phone searching for some good bops.

“How could I say no to such offer?”

Sharing headphones or earphones with somebody is a pretty intimate gesture if you think about it. Not only because of the short distance the cable obliges you to maintain with the other person but because, as you like to think, our music is the reflection of our soul and you were letting a complete stranger explore it without second thoughts. It felt so natural though, so domestic to have Mark sitting besides you with his fingers drumming on his thigh to the beat of the music. He never asked you to change songs or to modify the volume, he wanted to listen to each song like you did and get to know a part of you that most people probably didn't know.

Unfortunately, life is selfish and fate decided to separate your ways like it decided to put them together some weeks ago.

None of you saw it coming.

First it was the noise of somebody pressing their honk, then came the sound of a really loud crash and finally everything was spinning. You closed your eyes, diving head first into the darkness to avoid looking at whatever was going on. Strong hits shook your body, at some point blood started running down your forehead and as expected, your ears were not functioning after such loud noises. You were confused but guessed an incident must have happened, you tried opening your eyes but all you saw was a blur of color, nothing concretely that would tell you something about your situation.

When Mark's eyes landed on your fragile body he became a panicking mess. No matter how hard he tried to listen, the sound of your heart beat was getting lower and lower, the rougher your breathing sounded the slower your heart beated. A bunch of thoughts crossed his mind, he was cursed and that's why everything he loved was destined to break, you suffered the worst of the lucks to be assigned as his partner.

However, for once in his life, Mark dared himself to challenge fate, to change his path and not let a random bunch of decisions dictate what was going to happen with you. Life might have put you in his way to take you away but Mark was going to fight for you, he wasn't letting you go so easily.

“(Y/N)”

With shaky legs he stood up, making you turn your head enough to look at him. Mark looked untouched as if he hadn't been in the accident when everything happened, as if he hadn’t been sharing the earphones with you. Maybe it was the fact that you were closer to death than life itself at that moment that made Mark look ethereal, his pale skin seemed angelic, the way his dark eyes looked at your wounds with sadness but determination gave you will and strength to fight for your life.

“Hey” He kneeled down next to you, your vision got slightly blurry but you could see his eyes getting watery, why was he about to cry? Was your state that bad? You attempted to look around, to look at your own body so you could see your injures but he stopped you “No baby, you don’t need to see that” He whispered with his hands tracing delicate circles on your cheeks.

“Mark” His name came out in a quiet whisper, extremely weak as your eyes met. The pain in your body was slowly becoming stronger and so hard to stand that the idea of closing your eyes was becoming extremely tempting.

He was losing you, Mark could see how life was starting to abandon your body. He had never felt so useless in his whole life, should he bite you? He had always thought that turning somebody into what he was without their permission was something unforgivable. Would you like to live a life of eternity? Did you even know creatures like him existed? Mark sensed you didn’t so turning you wasn’t his best option. Letting you die in his arms wasn’t something he was planning to do either, Mark couldn’t give up on you just when the both of you started getting to know each other, he wasn’t going to let you go, at least not today.

The only thing that was left was one that would definitely create a lot of questions from you but it would be the only thing that would more or less make you stay closer to life than death. Without thinking Mark pulled out his fangs, feeling you weakly tensing next to him when your eyes saw them, it was okay though since you were probably going to think you were just hallucinating from the blood lost. In a quick motion he sank his fangs in his wrist and while small blood drops started flowing out, he pressed the wound on your lips ignoring the disgusted sounds you were making. His blood wouldn’t heal you completely but it would at least give the paramedics enough time to save you.

“Swallow it, it’ll be good for you, I promise”

Maybe it was the desperation to keep living that made you believe Mark’s words and without any second thoughts, you swallow your saliva that was mixed with his blood. What you didn’t expect though was that as soon as the liquid moved down your throat, everything would turn black.

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

It had almost been three months since that bus accident in which you were miraculously saved by the paramedics, the memory of Mark was slowly fading in the back of your mind and you weren’t sure anymore if he had been real or if it had been some kind of weird experience some people go through before the moment of their death. You had tried to look for him, to see if there was some way of finding out where he lived or who was to at least, thank him for saving you no matter how weird his methods had been but there was no trace of Mark and people had somehow made you believe it had been some kind of hallucination your mind had created due to the fear of dying alone.

You kept taking the same bus everyday even when you didn’t work at the same place as before, you just knew Mark was real, there was still a small part of you that was extremely convinced he hadn’t been a product of your mind and those same thoughts were confirmed when, one day, you found him sitting on the bus stop.

“Mark?” Your voice came out hesitatingly, your hands shaking a little as your mind was invaded from the memories of that day.

Mark raised his head, a bright smile on his lips when his eyes met yours “Found me” He patted the empty space on the bench so you could seat next to him, his fingers tapping on his jeans in sync with the music coming through his earphones. “Want one?” He asked, offering you one of his earphones.

“Sure” You smiled lowering yourself to seat besides him but Mark grabbed your wrist and pulled you up, the both of you now standing next to each other.

You looked at him confused and he just smiled even more shaking his head “Let me get you a coffee though, we both know we don’t have the best experiences with busses” He muttered looking down at you, brushing some hair behind your ear “Plus, I’m sure there are a lot of questions here” Mark tapped your forehead “That are waiting to be answered by me”

That afternoon Mark explained everything about him and about the effects you had on him, even when at first it all had been slightly overwhelming yet incredibly fascinating you couldn’t help but trust him.

After all he was the one that had brought you back to life.  

[j-wonwootrash]

Joshua || Just Us

genre: oneshot pairing: joshua x fem!reader a/n: this is part of the seventeen first kiss series! hope you enjoy!

s.coups || jeonghan || joshua || jun || hoshi || woozi || dokyeom || mingyu || the8 || seungkwan || vernon || dino ———

“Wait, you’re going to his house?” Yeoreum munched on her food and didn’t really care about how messy her entire tray was.

“Well yeah. He invited me, who am I to turn down a gentleman?” you plopped a grape to your mouth, savoring every fresh juice your taste buds ever did. “Sweetness.”

Yeoreum chuckled as she took a sip from your lemon water. “Clearly you know what this means, right? Look y/n-”

“Yeoreum, I’m sure he was just being nice. Maybe he really did take notice of y/n and wanted to know her more. Let the boy get his chance.” Eunhye patted her at the back to calm the about-to-be-boiled blood.

“Uh huh, and I’m just saying, first impressions can be deceiving.” she cleaned her tray and stood up to walk the tray counter, came back in a matter of seconds. “And don’t come crying if something bad happens.”

You and Eunhye looked at each other, contemplating whether either should speak up about your friend’s behavior. The silence was short-lived, and you began to laugh. “Shouldn’t she be saying that to herself?”

“I know right? She’s the bitter one out of us.” she rolled her eyes, and gestured you to pack your stuff. “I mean, what she told you earlier was what happened to her, like, I don’t know, last month?”

“She’s probably traumatized and just, y’know, looking out.” you giggled at the thought of Yeoreum, who cried because her crush was someone totally out of her comfort zone. You fell silent as your eyes landed on Joshua, who stood by Jeonghan and Seungcheol at the tray counter.

“Should I decline the offer?” you sighed, tapping your tray and unable to walk further.

“You’re changing your mind now?”

“I don’t know.. I’m getting all sweaty thinking about it.”

“Don’t let her comment bother you y/n. Go for it. He’s attractive and if he wanted to do a cover with you, I’m sure you’ll have fun too.” she winked, knowing your tiny crush towards him.

Joshua’s friends spotted you and elbowed the black-haired boy, smirking to embarrass him. “Here she comes. Go on, say hi.”

“I already did like an hour ago, Han.” he sighed as his friends continued to laugh.

“We know.” Seungcheol did a sequence handshake with Jeonghan.

Joshua was dumbfounded, not long until he saw you walking closer to the tray counter and placed your tray near his. He wasn’t sure if you saw him, but even the slightest brush of your hands to his didn’t make you look his way.

“We’re running late y/n!” he heard your friend.

“Oh, yes yes! Sorry!”

A smile appeared on his lips, maybe you were a bit clumsy but that part of you made him think you were adorable.

“...3pm.”

Joshua came back to reality after a trance you caused, to him him at least. “Huh..”

“Campus entrance at 3pm..” your still voice filled his ears, heading a bit lowered. 

“Yeah, okay.. I’ll.. pick you up.” he said, though he knew your schedule from Seungkwan. He was off class anyway— waiting would be no problem.

———

The apple scent from his car still hasn’t left your nostrils and for that you didn’t realize that you both already reached his apartment. “We’re here.” He opened door for you to step in.

Joshua saw his friends, on his bed, chips on the floor and scattered game consoles. He rubbed his temples. “Guys I told you I got a visitor.”

“Yeah but you didn’t tell us it’d be your girlfriend.” Jeonghan nudged Seungcheol. 

“Why are you even here? And she’s not my girlfriend.” Joshua sighed.

“Not ye-” Jeonghan began, only to be stopped by Joshua. “Josh, I’m always here at hanging at your room.” he gestured himself.

“But your room is upstairs.”

“So what, I can’t come to your room?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh you implied.” he jokingly scoffed the boy.

You raised your brows and giggled at the boys’ tiny argument. Joshua realized your presence behind him and apologized. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry y/n. Can you sit for a while? I’ll try to kick him out of the dorm.”

You followed as you were told. You could tell Joshua was pissed but his voice was so gentle that it wasn’t obvious.

“Oh what’re you both gonna do after you kick me out?” Jeonghan asked, still had some wit in him to tease the boy.

“Seriously, Han?”

“Don’t worry Han, I’ll make sure they won’t do something crazy.” Seungcheol blurted out as his eyes we’re still focused on the game and television.

“It’s my room and you’re going out too.” Joshua pulled him from the bed.

“Hey ow wait! I’ll die if you twist my wrist like that!”

“In the game, yes. In the flesh, no.”

When Joshua finally got his friends out, he exhaled like he had gotten the furniture moved.

“Okay.” he turned to you, his eyes grinned. “Shall we start?”

As you set up the needed equipment and sound system, you couldn’t help but take short glances at Joshua, who was now cleaning his guitar beside you, except he was on the bed.

Your legs that felt the carpeted floor started to feel sweaty. Nervous because you were in his room, you looked up to him. “So um hey, I heard you like acoustic.”

“Oh yeah definitely. Chill songs always gets me. How about you?” he placed his guitar down.

“You could say acoustic is in my most fave list.”

“Great! Oh right, this is the song I was going to let you listen.” the enthusiasm in his voice startled you, he took your hand and gave you the left earphone.

Within a few beats, he saw your eyes lit up. “I know this.” you scooted next to Joshua that your arm brushed his calve. You tapped on the touch bar to maximize the volume and hummed to the song.

Your voice slowly soften in Joshua’s hearing although you continued humming. He rested his chin and slowly began to observe the wrinkles on the temples’ side whenever you smile, your eyes that twinkled and little damp as if you were about to cry, and the long lashes that touches your upper cheeks whenever you blinked.

He thanked the heavens for the golden hour, his window behind you like a canvas. To him you appeared like you were heaven-sent. He made sure his sweater covered his side profile in case you saw him turned red. And slowly and unnoticeable, he found himself getting closer to you.

Warmth.

With eyes closed, you knew what he did and tried to not move. His large hands just lightly touching your hair. You held your breath for a quick second before you opened your eyes. Your fingers touched your lips where his had on earlier. “First impressions does deceive..”

“Whoever told you that was right.” he stuck out his tongue to tease. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

“But gentlemen don’t kiss and tell.” you said as your lips quivered and he delicately touched to stop you from being nervous.

“It’s just us now. I promise I won’t tell the world, but if you want to be my girl, say it in your own words.” he said with tinted cheeks. He took headphones for the both of you to wear.

“Let’s start the cover?”

[taesthetes]

Double-Cross (my heart and hope to die).

Flirting is not the best strategy to fall towards when you might be arrested. It may have to be your last resort if needed, but you have not reached that point of desperation. Well, not yet at least. But god damn, he looks like he would be a good kisser.

pairing: jung hoseok x reader genre: fluff type: enemies to lovers + police au word count: 9,202 words warnings: none author’s note: i hope the fbi doesn’t come after me for my questionable google searches for research. i understand there are proper police procedures, like not letting the witness go until the full statement is taken, and that abetting crime is an offense, but for the sake of this fic, please disregard that one bit.

➵ bangtan police unit: a collab with @milknotes

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 If your mother saw you now, she would be horrified.

Dressed in all black, from your black Converse to black jeans with a hooded sweater in a matching shade, you briefly indulge in your childhood fantasy of being a ninja as you nimbly leap across the three-foot gap between the closely situated two story, flat roofed buildings. Adrenaline rushes through your veins when you make it to the other side, a smile spreading across your face as you steady yourself. The dark colored backpack you had slung over your shoulders mutes the jangled noises inside it from the metal canisters you haphazardly threw in twenty minutes ago. You immediately grab either side of your bag, silencing the noise. Luckily, there are not many people out and about this part of the city at this time of night, thus lowering the number of any witnesses to a zero.

You quickly scan your surroundings, eyes well-adjusted to the nighttime, searching for any security cameras and guards patrolling nearby that you may have missed during your daytime survey. Your search proves fruitless, and you are satisfied, walking towards the blank billboard positioned on top of the building. Clambering up the ladder after putting on gloves, you reach the ledge extending from the large white canvas and drop your bag, unzipping it immediately to pull out several spray cans.

You had spotted the empty billboard a week ago on your way back from an interview at a coffee shop called Déjà Brew, and you have been itching to cover it in brilliant colors ever since. Dozens upon dozens of sketches were made in one of your moleskin notebooks, and you finally settled on the final design. The all-nighter you are about to pull for this artwork is going to be no different than staying up studying for the midterm you had for your Forensics Litigation class eight days ago.

You have always found great pleasure in the irony of being a graduate student attending a law school while simultaneously causing quite a few violations against the legal system as your city’s Banksy-esque Andy Warhol.

Putting on a disposable facemask to block the fumes, you then pick up a canister of blue spray paint and shake it before uncapping it. Taking a deep breath, you press down on the nozzle and begin the background of your masterpiece. So the fun begins. Creating art is almost therapeutic to you, and to be more specific, graffiti is just downright satisfying. It is your equivalent of the universal middle finger salute towards the legal system and towards the degree you so dearly hate. But, as your high school art teacher once said, you need a day job—i.e. accountant or lawyer or whatever stable job there is—to fund your night job, more affectionately known as being an artist. You bet your teacher never thought you would take her words in the literal sense, yet here you are.

The sound of a car rumbling down the street is heard, and instinctively, you get down flat on your stomach. Peering over the ledge, you see a police car making its rounds. It drives into the parking lot of the McDonald’s on the corner, and you groan, wriggling around in your position. An officer leaves the parked car, entering the garishly lighted fast food restaurant, and you want to beat your fist against the metal rungs in frustration. There is no way you are going to continue your art when the police are a few buildings away. You like the thrill that comes with breaking a few laws and the possibility of getting caught, but you certainly are not stupid. Stupidity does not go well on any resume.

You observe silently as the cop rushes out of the restaurant very quickly and hops back into his car, empty handed. You wait for the car to start and move out, but it remains parked. Finally, two cops—the one from before and a new one—emerges from the car and enters the restaurant. A few minutes later, they come out with a young woman in tow. You rest your chin on your hand, propping up your head, as you look on with slight interest. They begin to question her from the looks of it, and you almost tumble over the edge in surprise when the shrill protest voicing several NO!’s is heard along with a shrill cry for “Jooks” and “Kookoo”? You steady yourself and watch as the officers finally manage to calm the girl down and get her to sit in the backseat. When the patrol car starts up and leaves the parking lot, turning the corner and going out of sight, you finally rise up from your position. Stretching your arms for a moment first, at last, you turn back to your unfinished artwork.

When the sky turns to shades of yellow and orange as the sun slowly begins to peek out amongst the skyscrapers, announcing the dawn of a new day, you finish the last curve of your signature in the far bottom left corner, using a small airbrush. The small, curled letters spelling out “Eden” shines due to the fleeting seconds of wet paint. You run your fingertips over the instantly dried letters, tracing every swoop and line with a satisfied smile before collecting your empty canisters and place them back into your backpack, shouldering the bag once more. You clamber down the ladder and deftly retrace your steps back down to ground level, pulling off the gloves and face mask and stuffing them into the front pocket of your hoodie.

Glancing behind you as you make your way back to your shared apartment, you grin as the first rays of sunlight hit the masterpiece you left behind.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 “They’ve done it again.”

Lieutenant Yoongi tosses the newspaper onto his desk, his badge glinting in the light, as he rubs his temple with his forefinger tiredly. The black bold letters emblazoned across the top stand out against the gray paper, announcing the pop-up of Eden’s latest work on top of an apartment building. A large photograph of the art piece is shown below the headline. Yoongi remembers passing by that blank billboard for several months now on his way to work. It is amazing how some graffiti work can skyrocket a supposed four digit value to seven digits, according to the advertising company who sold the board this morning.

“Who?” Hoseok sits in the chair across from Yoongi’s desk, one leg crossed over the other leisurely. He picks up the discarded newspaper, scanning the front page, as Yoongi answers his question.

“The graffiti artist, Eden. They left another painting on that billboard near McDonald’s.”

“It’s pretty.” Hoseok gazes at the picture beneath the black letters. With an asymmetrical background consisting of geometric lines mirroring architect blueprints behind it in technicolor, a field of sunflowers are painted onto the board. In replacement of the roots, there are lightbulbs hanging from the stem. “It’s a nice gesture towards solar energy.”

“Graffiti is illegal. Just because it’s pretty doesn’t mean law violations can be ignored,” Yoongi reminds him, leaning back against his chair and picking up another casefile to rifle through. “I know you like their art a lot, but Eden defaced public property, and this isn’t Venice Beach.”

“It’s not like they’re painting on highway signs and important monuments though. It’s just empty walls and unimportant places. They make the place look prettier and brings up tourism and value to the building owners. That flower shop—What in Carnation? was the name, I think—was about to close, but they painted the store's outer wall and brought customers back.”

“It’s still a violation.”

“So are you saying we’re going to arrest Eden? Start a press conference and announce the search for some mystery figure whose art the people enjoy?”

“No, that’s far too much work, and we have other more pressing cases to get through,” Yoongi sighs, “Just tell the officers on night patrol to keep an eye out, you know, on places like other empty billboards, open walls, and the likes. And that McDonald’s breaks aren’t allowed. We don’t want to babysit any more drunk exes.”

“But Jungkook brought you extra doughnuts as an apology today.”

“… Tell him to keep the McDonald’s breaks to a minimum of one patrol per week.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 Stepping out of the classroom after your last lecture in Criminology and Criminal Procedure, you say a quick goodbye to your friends before putting on your headphones and making the trek back to your apartment. Your professor assigned several case studies to read through and take notes on, and you luckily have a couple of hours to get started on them before your first shift at Déjà Brew. Passing under a familiar powder blue and white striped awning with gold trimming, you halt in your steps, debating with yourself for a few moments, before entering Sprinkles. You always study better in someplace that is not your home anyway.

The cozy interior is well lit with lights overhead that provides a soft, warm glow to the place. The décor gives off a sort of modern take on a 1950s diner atmosphere due to the black and white checkered floors and white counters with pale blue spinning stools to sit on along with several matching tables and chairs. However, your eyes are immediately drawn to the glass display cases exhibiting some of the prettiest doughnuts you have ever seen. You secretly check to make sure you are not visibly drooling.

 “Hey, _______!” Jisoo greets you happily as she places three pristine sprinkled doughnuts in a pale blue box behind the counter. A young man around your age sits by the counter, and his eyes, pooling with something akin to mischief and curiosity, flicker towards your approaching figure. You study him carefully from the corner of your eye as you wave to Jisoo before slipping onto one of the empty stools, a few seats away from the man. His silver, slightly messy hair nearly reaches his eyes, effectively covering his eyebrows, and his thin, patterned tie is somewhat undone over a white dress shirt with a few buttons already undone, loosely tucked into his dress pants. He gives you a bright grin, and you flush a little, but return his gesture with a smile of your own.

“Here you go, Tae.” Jisoo hands the completed box over to the man, and an even larger smile makes his way across his face before he thanks her.

“Thank you! See you tomorrow!” He waves at her before flashing you another easygoing smile and leaving the shop.

“So what’s happening tomorrow?” You send an impish smirk towards your friend, and her cheeks turn a rosy red.

“Nothing! He just comes by to pick up doughnuts for the police station every morning.”

“But it’s the afternoon. Does he inhale doughnuts or something?” You absentmindedly say, pulling your laptop out of your bag and onto the counter along with the printed out casefiles your professor handed out at the end of the lecture. Rummaging around the bottom of your bag, you take out your highlighters and pen and place them next to your laptop, turning on the device afterwards.

“No, he likes the sprinkled ones, but his boss, Yoongi, likes old fashion glazed doughnuts, and he usually gets only that type every morning for the whole squad. So he comes back later for the sprinkled ones.” Jisoo places a sugar powdered doughnut in front of you, and you thank her, making a mental note to slip a few bills in the glass jar labelled “tips” later. She always refused to let you pay her, but you manage to sneak in some money through tips when she is not looking.

“But he could get his sprinkled doughnuts in the morning still.” A sly look creeps onto your face before you continue, “He likes you.”

“Shut up.” Her face burns scarlet as she turns away from you. “He does not.”

“Yes, he does.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Yes, he does.”

“No, h—Oh, hello, welcome to Sprinkles!”

Jisoo stands up straighter, smiling politely at the new group of high school aged customers, and you snicker quietly, ignoring the pointed look she directs at you. You start to focus on your work, powering through the thick stack of cases and highlighting the important pieces of information, writing notes of your own on the edges.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 Two weeks later, you are absolutely exhausted from the all-nighters and long hours at the library, but midterm season is finally over. You had finished taking your last midterm three hours ago in which you were proven correct that you should have studied the Wong Sun v. United States case in greater detail. But what is done is done, and your fingers are itching to grasp another spray can and paint your newest idea for a pollution piece on the wall near Cuppo Noodles. The canisters hidden in your bag clank against each other as you weave your way around other sleep deprived students coming home from late class midterms. The sun has already set, leaving the faintest traces of light behind, and it is only a short matter of time when the night sky will cloak over the city and provide you the perfect coverage.

You drop by the convenience store, deciding to treat yourself to some ice cream, as you wait for the number of people outside and within the vicinity to thin out. After all, the less number of witnesses the better. You find a place to sit in the front of the store, slipping onto the stool and placing your purchase on the counter table in front of you. From your vantage point, you can see through the shop glass, monitoring the social activity and scoping out the wall that can just barely be seen if you strain your neck a little to the right.

Scooping out a hefty amount of Ben and Jerry’s Everything But The… straight out of the pint and onto your spoon, you almost moan out loud when the sweet dessert hits your tongue. Indulging in one of your guilty pleasures should make you feel, well, guilty, but you do not. The ice cream is well deserved after two weeks of midterms. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. When the tip of your spoon scrapes the bottom of the carton, you look longingly at the other cartons stacked neatly in the freezer, almost beckoning at you to buy another one. But temptation is fleeting in front of desire, and you desire nothing more than to paint your piece onto the bricks. Noticing the lack of activity outside the now quiet street, lit up by the lampposts, you take it as your cue to leave, throwing away the empty cardboard container and stepping out of the convenience store. Briefly stopping to drop your bag at your feet momentarily, you pull on a dark zip-up hoodie and then put on the backpack once more.

From any passerby’s point of view, you probably look very shady, but no one is in sight. The majority of the people who frequent these streets are usually students who go to the university, and around this time, especially on a Friday night after many midterms came to an end, they are all much too preoccupied with beer pong and shots at parties on Greek Row a few streets over. Aside from the cashier wearing noise cancelling headphones who is more interested in the tabloid magazine she is thumbing through than the girl who was eating ice cream alone, you do not see anyone else around. With the odds in your favor, you easily make it to the wall, ducking into the small alleyway. It was not exactly a street, but more of a small walkway with small shops lined on either side. Setting down your bag, you pull out a pair of gloves and a facemask, donning them on, before reaching into your backpack and grasping for the purple spray paint can. You uncap the canister and begin to paint, a satisfied smile making its way across your face, hidden beneath the black facemask.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 No one, especially when they are drunk, ever notices the figure dressed in dark clothing who blends quite easily into the shadows. And the six people who had passed by you at various times throughout the night were very much intoxicated. The moonlight does not provide much light and works to your advantage, creating the cloak of darkness that you effortlessly merge into. You hold a flashlight in one hand and a spray can in the other. Four hours pass by easily, and you are three quarters done with your art piece by the time the clock strikes 2 A.M. The background and overall shapes and colors of each item have taken shape, and you are almost tingling with excitement to begin your favorite part: the details. Details make the art or break it. They bring any piece to life with just an extra splash of color here or an extra dash and line there.

Rummaging around your bag for the airbrush, you suddenly hear the incoming sounds of tires screeching against the asphalt. You look up, eyes widening when you spot two cars racing down the street at an alarming rate, and your mind somehow knows what is going to happen a split second before it does.

A resounding crash! is heard before the second car stops in its place and the first car rams against a fire hydrant with a sickening thud.

Heart racing, you wonder if you should go out there and check on the people. A deafening silence fills the air for the entirety of three seconds before loud screams suddenly fill the air as the two drivers emerge from their vehicles, surprisingly unscathed and unbelievably furious.

“You fucking bitch! Look what you did to my car! You’re gonna pay for this!” The man is seething as he stalks towards the woman, who looks up from her car against the hydrant with fury radiating from her skin.

“I’ll pay for it when you pay the damn alimony and child support!” the woman screams back. “Besides, you hit my car, asshole!”

“There is no alimony! My lawyer already told you that!”

“There will be after this new lawsuit!”

Hurriedly, you scoop all your supplies back into your bag as quietly as possible, zipping it up and carefully putting it on to avoid any of the cans from clashing. All the shops nearby are already closed, and no one else is close by. Your hand finds your phone in the back pocket of your jeans, quickly pulling it out and searching for the anonymous tip number with shaky hands. You dial it, and when someone answers, your voice comes out in hushed whispers.

“Hello? Yes, I’d like to report anonymously a car accident near Atwood Avenue and Bowman Street—Yes, Bowman Street. The car crash looks bad, but it doesn’t look like anyone is hurt—Yes, I can see them. They got out of their cars, and they’re screaming at each other… I’m afraid they’re going to get violent… I’m hiding right now—Yes, okay, thank you.”

A few minutes later, the sound of sirens are heard, and the police cars slow to a stop in front of the accident. The officers and EMTs step out of the vehicles, walking towards the arguing couple. The erratic pounding of your heart slows down considerably as you breathe a sigh of relief. The man, on the other hand, seems to have opposite feelings than you about the police showing up. He immediately starts running, and with growing horror, you realize he is running towards the alleyway you are cooped up in. You press yourself against the wall, huddling in the shadows of a large planter and some folded up tables and chairs.

The man runs past you without notice, and the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching forces you to burrow into your hiding space even farther. Two police officers, one who looks like he belongs in a gym and another with rather spindly legs, rush past you. After waiting a few minutes with bated breath, you stand up from your position, cautiously making your way out of the alley.

Only to be met with another pair of officers.

Immediately, you are blinded with a bright light, and you let out a noise of surprise, hand coming up to cover your eyes.

“Taehyung! You’re not supposed to do that!” A soft voice scolds the supposed officer who made you temporarily lose your vision. The light is immediately lowered, and you try to blink away the spots to see clearly again.

“Wait… I think I know her though. Were you at Sprinkles?” The officer with the flashlight peers intently at your face, and you squint, trying to make out his features before finally making sense of the situation. You recognize that silver hair. “Jisoo didn’t tell me her boyfriend was a cop.”

The flashlight falls with a clatter to the ground as Taehyung looks startled before suppressing a grin. “She called me her boyfriend?”

You rub your eyes slightly, blinking rapidly as your vision returns to normal. “No, I just assumed. You’re not her boyfriend?”

“No, he just wants to be.” The softer voice cuts in again before he can respond. A man dressed in the same uniform as Taehyung, but of shorter stature, comes into your view. “What were you doing out here?”

“I was out for a walk, and I heard running, and my instinct kicked in.” You shrug before shifting the bag on your shoulder a bit. “Can I go now?”

“You were out for a walk this late?”

You squint slightly and are able to make out the name on his uniform. “Yes. Is that a crime, Officer Park?”

“Wearing that?” Taehyung blurts out as he stares at your all black ensemble dubiously.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was talking to the fashion police.” Taehyung flushes and gives you a sheepish smile. You cross your arms over your chest. “Can I go now, officers?”

“Not yet. What’s in your bag?” Officer Park questions.

“My belongings.” Your irritation is about to bubble to the surface. This is what you get for trying to do a good deed and reporting an accident.

“May I see?” Officer Park comes closer, his hand reaching out, before you take a few steps back.

“Do you have probable cause?”

“Do you have something to hide?”

You open your mouth to answer when Taehyung pipes up. “Nevermind that. Did you see anything when you were walking? There was an accident. Did you hear anything?”

You pause for a moment. “I heard yelling and sirens.”

“Would you come down to the station to make a witness statement?”

“No.” You start to back away again. “I really need to go home now. I have classes the next day, and I need to sleep now.”

“Ma’am, you need to come with us.” Officer Park steps forward, grabbing your arm, and your eyes narrow as your body jerks back from his grasp. You briefly glance over to the ambulance where the woman sits in the back, seething, as an EMT checks her over. She throws over a glare that sends a shiver up your spine.

“You have a witness over there.”

“But she’s also involved in the accident. We need you to come down to the station.”

“Am I being arrested?”

“Jimin, wait.” Taehyung grasps Officer Park’s wrist, pulling him back, before turning towards you, pleading. “Please just come with us down to the station? The statement won’t take long. You’re not under arrest.”

You hesitate. Taehyung’s eyes are filled with sincerity, but Jimin looks like he is already ready to whip out a ticket for you with the way he stares you down. Your eyes flicker back to Taehyung, and you curse yourself for thinking of your friend at this moment. Gosh darn it, she really seems to like this Taehyung dude, you internally groan.

With a sigh, you nod, and Taehyung grins in relief before gesturing you to follow him to the car. Jimin trails behind you suspiciously, and you send him a well-pointed scowl, which causes his face to morph into one of surprise for a split second before he returns the look. You quicken your pace and hover around the car’s side with the passenger seat uncertainly as Taehyung gets into the driver’s seat, flicking on the police radio.

“So am I going to have to sit in the back?”

“No.” Jimin speaks up, leaning against the hood of the car. “We have to stay here and watch over the lady and wait for the other two officers to come back with our runaway suspect, so Taehyung is calling in for the sergeant to come pick you up.”

“Okay.”

A slightly uncomfortable silence overtakes the short lived conversation, and you pull at the loose thread on your sweater sleeve mindlessly. The sound of a car door slamming shut is heard as Taehyung comes around the front of the car and murmurs to Jimin that someone named Hoseok will be here in a few minutes. You assume he is the sergeant Jimin mentioned earlier.

Your assumption proves to be correct when a car identical to the two already here appears, and the man that steps out introduces himself to you. “I’m Sergeant Jung, but you can call me Hoseok. You’re our witness?”

“Yes… unfortunately.” You mumble the last part under your breath as Hoseok guides you to his car, opening the passenger door for you to slide in. You settle into the seat, clutching your backpack to your chest. Hoseok speaks to the two officers, and they gesture towards the alleyway, mentioning an Officer Jeon and an Officer Kim. The sergeant jogs over to the area, looking around for a bit with a flashlight, before returning with a frown. He shakes his head at something Jimin says before coming over and getting into the driver’s seat. He starts the car, and Taehyung waves at you, while Jimin still holds a look of suspicion directed towards you on his face.

“So,” Hoseok clears his throat, and you turn to look at him. “What were you doing out here this late?”

“Did the police academy teach all of you to start a conversation with that, Sarge?”

“What?” Hoseok looks taken aback, and you turn forward, focusing on the white dashed lines on the black asphalt.

“Never mind. I don’t understand why I have to come down to the station. I heard screaming and sirens. That’s all. Do you really need me to write that down on a piece of paper?”

“Are you sure that’s all?”

“Why wouldn’t I be sure? Are you doubting my ears now?”

Hoseok glances over at you silently before focusing on his driving. The rest of the ride remains quiet, and you pull out your phone, replying to a few unopened text messages. In particular, you send a message to Jisoo, telling her where you were and why. A flurry of worried texts appears on your phone, asking if you are alright and if she needed to come down. You send a quick message back, assuring her that you are okay and that you will keep her updated, before Hoseok pulls up in front of the police station.

“We’re here.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 The two of you are seated in a small room, similar to a conference room. At least you were not put in an interrogation room, you muse to yourself, settling down into the office chair. You had caught a glimpse of the stoic lieutenant in his office, and the piercing stare he gave you when he looked up made you walk closer to the sergeant in front. Said sergeant now slides a yellow paged notepad in front of you, placing a pen on top of it. Your backpack remains in your lap as you grab the writing utensil.

“Please write your name and what you saw and heard.” Hoseok states, and you give him a curt nod before printing your name on top and rapidly penning down the events that took place.

I was taking a walk around 2 A.M. when I heard a loud crash. There was screaming. The man threatened the woman, and the woman was yelling about alimony and child support. The woman said she would file a new lawsuit. I hid behind the dumpster. I was there for a few minutes before I heard sirens. I saw the man run past me and two officers followed behind him. I stayed there for a few more minutes before getting out of my hiding spot. Then, Officer Kim shined his flashlight in my face, and Officer Park interrogated me.

“There. Can I go now?” You watch cautiously as Hoseok picks up the paper and reads through what you have written. His eyebrows furrow slightly before he puts down the notepad.

“So, _______... are you sure this is it?”

“I wrote what I saw and heard, like you asked.”

There is a muffled noise near the door, and the two of you immediately look over, but hear nothing else. Wanting to resume the conversation, Hoseok hesitates before tentatively saying, “You see, we received an anonymous tip on that car accident. The officers were on the scene in less than a few minutes. The stores nearby were all closed, and you were the only one there, besides the two in the accident. So my theory is that you were the one who called.”

“That’s an interesting thought, Sarge, but you can’t hold me here for a theory. So I’ll be going now.” You move to stand up, but Hoseok stands up quickly situating himself in your line of path.

“Please. We only have the female in custody, but they’re still in pursuit of the male. You’re the only one who can provide an unbiased account of what happened.”

“I’m sorry, but I really have to leave.” You clutch your bag a little tighter to your chest, and Hoseok’s eyes flit towards the backpack.

“What’s in the bag?”

“My belongings. Officer Park already asked me this. Can you please move so I can leave?”

“May I see it?”

“No, you may not.”

“Are you hiding something?” He reaches out for your bag, and you pull back.

“This is my personal property, and you cannot search it without probable cause.”

“You’re on public property.”

“The bag has been in my possession this entire time and has not touched the floor. Are you really trying to argue that there has been some sort of property transference the moment I step on public property?”

The sergeant raises an eyebrow before pulling his hands back. “No, I’m sorry. But you were out for a walk wearing that?”

“There’s nothing illegal about taking a walk in dark clothes.” You pause. “Look, I came in here to give you a witness statement out of the good of my heart because Officer Kim asked. If you’re turning this into some sort of interrogation, then you have no grounds to hold me, and I will be leaving now.”

Hoseok sighs before motioning to the pad. “Okay. You can go now.”

He sits there lost in thought, tapping his finger against the surface. He contemplates over his next actions, carefully scrutinizing you. Hoisting your backpack over your shoulder, you walk out of the room before you hear him call out, “Do you need a ride home? It’s the least I can do for you helping us.”

You stop in your tracks. It is late after all, and walking back to your place at this time of night alone is not the safest decision. “Yes, please.”

You and Hoseok walk through the station wordlessly. You see the two officers who had run past you in the alley, locking up the man in one of the holding cells. The taller one raises an eyebrow towards Hoseok, who hand motions something towards the man with a nod. The two of you leave the building and reach his squad car, and you situate yourself into the passenger seat once more. Hoseok waits for your seatbelt to click on before pulling out of his parking space. You give him the directions to your apartment, and he punches it into the GPS.

“So are you a student?” Hoseok asks, and you stop fiddling with the small keychain hooked onto your bag.

“Yes.”

Hoseok suppresses a smile at your curt answer. “What are you studying?”

“I’m a third year law student.”

“Huh. Figures.”

You turn towards the sergeant. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There’s something ironic about a law student moonlighting as a graffiti artist, isn’t there?” he casually states, and your blood runs cold. You freeze in your spot for a millisecond before turning towards the man. A small smirk plays on his lips as he gently taps his finger against the steering wheel, waiting for the light to turn green.

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw the art when I went to check the alleyway. I bet if I check your bag right now, I’d find spray cans and paint matching the paint on the wall. And, I believe I do have probable cause now to check it.”

He pulls over onto the side of the street beneath one of the street lights. The yellow glow casts various shades of light onto his face. You admit you would be shamelessly admiring his side profile had you not been in this current predicament, sweating it out at the moment. Flirting is not the best strategy to fall towards when you might be arrested. It may have to be your last resort if needed, but you have not reached that point of desperation. Well, not yet at least. But god damn, he looks like he would be a good kisser. Focus on the situation, you chide yourself, stop getting distracted by the hot sergeant.

“Unfortunately for you, Sarge, spray paint is generic. Hundreds of people buy it. Hypothetically, if I had some and it matched, it would be a coincidence.”

“Perhaps. But I have enough for reasonable suspicion.”

“What if I give you a full witness statement in exchange for letting me go on this hypothetical misdemeanor?”

Hoseok stays quiet, and you can hear your heartbeat thudding erratically in your chest. If this goes on your record, it will definitely result in a blow to your career’s credibility. You swallow hard, clutching your bag even tighter to your chest, as your hands form fists, nails pressing crescent shaped marks into your palms.

“Now that’s not really a fair deal, is it?”

“I would have to do a hundred hours of community service if I am charged. You, on the other hand, without the witness statement, would be involved in a civil suit between two people who are clearly in the midst of a bad divorce. Do you really want to be tied up with days, maybe months, of court appearance and paperwork? And you know damn well how long divorce lawyers will prolong their cases until they milk both sides dry of their money.”

You can see Hoseok swallow hard when the full weight of your words hit him, his Adam’s apple bobbing. You got him: hook, line, and sinker. You have the upper hand now. You had heard the lieutenant of the Bangtan Police Unit was a hard ass, but perhaps lady luck was shining upon you because you got the sergeant instead. Hiding your smirk, you continue, “And I can sue your officers—Officer Park and Officer Kim, was it? —for harassment. I will be suing for the way Officer Park was interrogating me earlier after Officer Kim nearly blinded me when I was walking back. Officer Park roughly grabbed my arm. I’ll also be needing the footage from his body camera as evidence.”

Hoseok nearly swears out loud. Jimin had always been a good officer, but his recent break up has clouded his judgement for the past few weeks. He decides to put out his last bargaining chip. “Now, let’s not be hasty here. I’m sure we can work this out… right, Miss Eden?”

All the cards have been pulled out now. The both of you have played your last pawn, but it is your turn to move. And hearing that moniker slip through his teeth, your heart drops through your ribcage for a second time that night. “What did you call me?”

Hoseok tilts his head to the right, a half smile peeking out on his face. “Eden. Who knew the famous law-breaking artist of our city is also a good Samaritan? That’s why you called in an anonymous tip. Because you were committing a law infraction yourself.”

“I’m not Eden. I’m a very big fan of their work though.”

He chuckles, “Really? So you’re telling me that if I drop you off at your address, you’re not going to go back to that wall and paint the rest? And I won’t find the Eden signature at the bottom? I know you artists are very particular with credit.”

You stay silent, and Hoseok smiles in satisfaction. “I thought so. How about this: it’s late, and we both need sleep. You can come back in the morning and give me a full witness statement. I’ll drop any charges on vandalism, and you drop that civil suit against my officers.”

“Any charges on vandalism?”

“Yes.”

You hesitate. “Will you tell anyone?”

“No, I won’t. I promise. Cross my heart, and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”

You let out a tiny smile at the childish rhyme. “Why?”

Hoseok shrugs. “You called in the crime, while you were committing a crime, too. You were willing to get caught for the safety of others. I don’t know if that makes you a good person or an idiot. I’m still debating.”

“Hey!”

He chuckles, “Do we have a deal or not?”

“Okay, fine, deal.”

“Good. Now here’s my number. You call me if anything goes wrong, but try not to get caught, okay?”

“Wha—” You confusedly take the slip of paper he hands you, but your sentence cuts off short when you see the car is parked near a very familiar alleyway. Wide eyed, you look back at him as he shrugs before gesturing for you to go.

“I thought you might, you know, want to walk back to your place. From here. Instead.”

Scrambling, you open the door and step out, tossing the backpack over your shoulders. You step out onto the sidewalk before closing the car door. He rolls down the window, calling out, “I’ll be going back to the station now. Remember to come back in the morning. Stay safe and be careful, Miss Eden.”

You stand on the edge of the sidewalk, fingers curled around the scrap of paper, and watch as his car disappears around the corner. You smile softly to yourself before sending a quick text to Jisoo and entering the smaller alley street. Sliding the paper slip into your back pocket, you put down your backpack and pull out a white spray can.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 “Sergeant, you remember that girl you picked up for the witness statement?”

Jimin stands in front of Hoseok’s desk, clutching a newspaper in his hand. Hoseok slowly looks up from the paperwork scattered across the table surface, putting down the fountain pen with a small thud against the wood. Peering up at his officer, he quickly melds his face into one of indifference.

“Yes, what about her?”

His officer drops the inked paper onto his desk. “Look at this. Eden left another art piece on the wall of the same alleyway we caught her. Do you think she’s the artist?”

Unbelievable. The newspapers already swooped around the art like vultures. It has not even been five hours since he had dropped you off there. Emblazoned across the top in black and white is a large, bold headline about another Eden artwork cropping up in the city.

“I checked that alley with a flashlight, remember? I didn’t see this there when I looked around.” He taps the picture on the front page of the newspaper. Technically, he thinks to himself, what he says is true. He only saw the partially completed image then, not the entirely finished work.

“Maybe she was going to paint, but that accident happened. Did you check her bag? Maybe she went back and painted it after giving her witness statement.” Jimin persists, and for once, Hoseok wishes Jimin is not as thorough at his job as he usually is.

“Her bag was cleared. She’s coming back here sometime soon to give her statement. I personally drove her back. She gave me her home address. She also mentioned something about you grabbing her arm.” Hoseok raises an eyebrow at his officer, who immediately bows his head in shame.

“I made a mistake. I apologize, sir.”

“I convinced her not to file a civil suit. I know you’ve been… a little preoccupied with things outside of work, but please be more careful, Park.”

“Yes, sir. I will. Thank you.”

Jimin leaves quickly afterwards, and Hoseok lets out an inaudible sigh of relief. That was a close one. He picks up the newspaper, gazing down at the picture. The wall is covered with a beautiful sunset with a beach and mountains incorporated into the image. However, when he takes a closer look, the entire painted scenery is actually made up of crushed soda cans, candy wrappers, chewed gum, banana peels, and other items easily found in landfills and recycling centers. It is interesting, he muses, a small smile on his lips, sunsets are created from air pollution, yet they’re so beautiful, and you managed to depict the same concept with the scenery created entirely of garbage. A pollution piece is found within another pollution piece.

He carefully sets aside the newspaper before he sorts through the various files, stacking them into appropriate sections. He finds the file on the car accident and flips open the manila folder, pulling out the freshly printed images of the car crash. Copies of the lawsuits that were quickly faxed over are found as well, and he sighs as he reads through the transcripts and papers before staring at the pictures once more. It would have become another he said, she said case if you were not there to witness it, which would, without a doubt, become even messier with the ongoing divorce lawsuit. He is about to take a closer look at one particular photo when—

"Wow, you look terrible."

Hoseok looks up to see Seokjin, standing in front of his desk, and resists the urge to roll his eyes. Of course, he looks great. There is no surprise in that. "Thanks. I really appreciate that."

"No, it's just that—have you slept yet? Those eye bags are pretty dark."

“Hoseok, it’s eight A.M. Did you even go home at all? I thought I told you to take a day off today after that night case.” Yoongi appears at the sergeant’s desk and stares at the open casefile over Hoseok’s shoulder. “You’ve been overworking and staying overtime too much. You need a break.”

“Morning, Lieutenant. He’s just waiting for the cute witness to show up,” Taehyung says, grinning cheekily before holding out a box of Yoongi’s favorite sugary fried delicacies, “Want a doughnut?”

Yoongi quickly grabs one, but not without sending a frown towards the sergeant. “Are you seeing her? You know that’s against policy. We can’t get involved with anyone in an open case.”

“No! No, I’m not.” Hoseok hastily denies, cheeks burning. “I just told her to come by in the morning to give me her witness statement. And I thought it would be better if she spoke to the same person. For consistency, you know?”

Yoongi eyes him suspiciously before giving him a nod and starting his trek to his office. Seokjin follows behind him, prepared to give the lieutenant his weekly report. Hoseok quickly turns to Taehyung to give him the stink eye, but the mischievous, silver haired officer is nowhere to be found. The only sign of his past presence is the box of old fashion glazed doughnuts and sprinkled chocolate ones with one of each missing left on Hoseok’s desk. Sighing, he grabs one with the rainbow sprinkles and is about to take a bite when—

“Hey, Sarge.”

“_______!” Hoseok’s eyes widen before they dart around, and he is slightly flailing until his eyes spot the powder blue and white striped box. “Uh, doughnut?”

You smile before declining, “I actually had one before I came. My friend runs that shop actually. But thank you for the offer.”

“O-oh, no problem.” Hoseok gestures towards the familiar conference room. “Would you be more comfortable giving me your statement in there?”

“Sure, thanks.”

You follow behind him as he leads you towards the room, writing utensil and notepad in hand. The two of you quietly sit down, and he hands you the pen, pushing the notepad across the table surface towards you. You write down your account of the events carefully, the tip of your tongue sticking out slightly as you concentrate on scribbling down all the details you can remember.

Hoseok fidgets around in his chair, finally settling on a position before interlocking his hands and placing them on the table in front of him. He keeps his gaze on you, eyes flitting around curiously. He catches the way your hand pushes the soft flyaway tendrils of your hair behind your ear, the faintest color of marigold on the tip of your pointer finger. He smiles to himself when he sees your nose scrunches slightly for a moment as your eyes scan what you have finished writing.

“Here you go, Sarge.”

“Thank you.” He takes the notepad from you, looking over what you have written down and nodding in satisfaction. “This is really helpful. Thanks, _______.”

“No problem.” You stand up and start to leave the room, but stop. You hover in the doorway, wavering before saying at last, “Why did you let me go?”

“Hmm?” He looks up from the paper.

You repeat yourself, “You could have charged me. Why did you let me go?”

Hoseok tilts his head to the side, giving you a small grin as he rests his chin on the palm of his hand. “I decided that you’re a good person.”

“Oh.” The look of surprise that crosses over your face earns you a small chuckle from the sergeant. You stay silent for several seconds before asking the second question that has been on your mind for the past hours.

"How did you know it was Eden's work?"

His eyes twinkle before he gives you a small wink that causes your cheeks to warm up considerably. “I’m a huge fan of Eden. They’re making the city look more beautiful and raising awareness for environmental issues.”

You feel yourself flush even more as you duck your head sheepishly. You fiddle with the thin silver bracelet around your wrist for a moment before speaking up, “I have an art exhibition in a couple of weeks… Would you like to come?”

Hoseok beams, nodding his head. “I’d like that a lot.”

You give him a relieved smile before telling him the date of the unveiling and writing down your phone number. “How about we meet up at The Bean around 8 A.M. and walk over there together?”

“Sounds great.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 Hoseok’s phone buzzes a few hours later during his lunch break. He puts down his sandwich, peering down at the device. A tiny smile spreads across his face when he sees it is from you, several text messages popping up.

[12:13] you: hey sarge

[12:13] you: there’s something I don’t get

[12:13] you: when you saw it in the alley, there was no signature

[12:13] hoseok: yes what about it?

[12:14] you: then how did you know it was eden?

[12:14] hoseok: it was a hunch

[12:15] you: pretty accurate hunch you had

[12:16] you: did you study art styles in the police academy or something

[12:16] hoseok: nope

Hoseok’s fingers hover over the keyboard. He bites his bottom lip, contemplating for a few moments, before lightly tapping out his reply and hitting send.

[12:16] hoseok: have you ever seen the old walls on the east side

[12:17] you: yeah why

[12:17] hoseok: the art there is pretty old but

[12:18] hoseok: have you seen the ones by jhope?

Immediately, he sees the three bubbles pop up, and he holds his breath, waiting for your response.

[12:18] you: are you kidding me sarge

[12:18] you: you’re jhope???

[12:18] you: the collab pieces between jhope and agust d are still legends

Hoseok’s lips curl into another smile. Secretly, pride blooms in his chest. As an angsty teenager, he quite liked the thrill and fun that came with being a tagger. Of course, he had to stop after he decided to attend the police academy with his best friend.

Another buzz from his phone brings his attention back to you.

[12:19] you: wait then who’s agust d

He grins, glancing over at Yoongi. The lieutenant raises an eyebrow at him, but Hoseok just shakes his head before writing his answer.

[12:19] hoseok: you know the lieutenant?

[12:19] you: you’re shitting me

[12:19] you: oh my god

[12:20] hoseok: impressed? ^^

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 Hoseok had finally taken a day off after much badgering on Yoongi’s part. Specifically, he took the day of your art exhibition off. Donning a dark washed, blue denim jacket with a loose striped shirt tucked into his ripped black jeans, he looks like any other passerby without his usual formal ensemble. The Bean is not too far from his apartment, and the weather was good, so he decides to walk over there. He is glad that the car accident case had been smoothed over and dealt with after a few days. The other cases he still has are more in the open and shut range, so he is not really losing sleep over any particular one. And he has been texting back and forth with you more often as well. In fact, he checks his phone as it vibrates and sees one from you.

[07:58] you: sorry I’m running a few minutes late but I’ll see you soon!

He sends back a short message, assuring you that it was fine. However, when he turns the corner, he finally sees a large crowd jostling around the bustling coffee shop, phones all out and taking pictures of whatever is in front of them. Hurriedly, he makes his way over, fearing the worst before edging himself through the mass of people before finally reaching the front of the crowd. And he gasps, eyes widening in disbelief and cheeks reddening.

On the wall next to the shop, a new mural is on display. The police badge has been painstakingly painted onto the bricks in multicolor along with the silhouette of a police officer that is unmistakably him. The word “Hope” has been written over and over again in a sort of chain link, winding around the badge and silhouette. The telltale signature of Eden is found in the bottom right corner.

His phone vibrates in his hand once more, and he looks down quickly to see another message from you.

[08:03] you: so what do you think of my art exhibit, sarge?

A smile blooms on his face as the corners of his lips tilt upwards, and he swiftly taps out a response and presses send, his heart nearly thudding out of his chest.

[08:04] hoseok: it’s beautiful

[08:04] hoseok: but not as beautiful as the artist ♡

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

  DELETED B99 INSPIRED SCENE:

Investigation: noise by the door Filed By: Jung Hoseok Persons of Interest: Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi Time: 02:43 A.M., during the collection of _______’s initial statement Place: Bangtan Police Precinct

“I heard Tae and Jimin caught an uncooperative witness for the car accident,” Seokjin casually says, lounging in the chair placed in front of Yoongi’s desk.

The lieutenant makes a noncommittal noise as he continues to peruse the files laid out in front of him. However, the somewhat noisy entry of two people causes him to look up. He catches your eye with a steely look, and he holds back a smile when he notices you sidle up closer to Hoseok almost instantaneously afterwards. The door clicks shut behind you and Hoseok, who had swiped a notepad and pen off his desk, and immediately, he and Jin speed walk quietly to said door.

“If the interrogation doesn’t go well, I have my guitar in the locker room. I can do the scream-and-strum strategy to make the witness crack,” Jin whispers, and Yoongi glowers and shakes his head vehemently.

“That didn’t work the first two times I let you do that. I’m not letting you try a third time.”

“Oh, c’mon, the third time’s the charm,” Seokjin whines and bangs his fist against the top of the file cabinet for emphasis. Immediately, he and Yoongi freezes at the realization of what he has done.

“Retreat,” Yoongi hisses, and the two of them make a run for it back to his office as noiselessly as possible. Jin shuts the door behind them as they huff and puff, bent over with their hands on their knees.

“Oh, man,” wheezes Seokjin as he collapses into the same chair from before. “Thank god I don’t have to take the physical again.”

Yoongi grunts in agreement. “I should probably lay off on the doughnuts.”

[errantknightess]

Writer ask meme

Tagged by @kitty-bandit, @silentium-nightshade and @faeriexqueen - thanks a lot :D Answers under the cut because it’s long and who has the time for that.

1. Explain your AO3 handle.

It's just a variant of the screen name I came up back when I was fourteen and obsessed with Middle Ages. It's pretty dumb, but I got used to it and kinda like the shape of those lowercase letters.

2. Favorite fanfiction trope?

Mutual pining. Give me all the sad idiots that don't realize how much they mean to the love of their life! Give me their awkward fumbling as they fail to express their feelings and stay convinced the other could never possibly reciprocate! Give me the stolen touches and fleeting glances and weak excuses to be as close to each other as they dare!

3. Favorite place to write?

My room, door closed, absolute silence everywhere, or at the very least earplugs/some white noise in my headphones.

4. Favorite ships in your current fandom?

In DGM it's laven, always and forever, my precious lost dorks ♥ And as you can notice, I've also fallen into FFXV and promptis hell recently. Here's your fair warning that I'll be writing quite a bit of it in the future.

5. What are your steps to get into the Writing Mood™?

Basically just daydreaming the scenes I need to write next. When I can see them in my mind clearly enough, I'm ready to write -- otherwise I fumble a lot and they don't come out feeling very natural.

6. What program/app do you use to write?

I draft things out in Notepad and clean the finished thing in Word. I find that Notepad is less intimidating in a way -- I can just drop loose messy notes in it and not worry about things being perfect, while Word and other “proper” programs pressure me to Get It Right on the first try. Recently I've also started turning my laptop off and jotting my notes down by hand instead, and that helps a lot in keeping away all the internet distractions! (I do transfer those notes to Notepad later, though -- actual writing is way quicker on the keyboard, and as a non-native speaker I need my dictionaries and Google).

7. List your zodiac sign, favorite ice cream flavor, Hogwarts House, and your opinion on pineapple pizza.

Cancer, mint with chocolate chips, Slytherin, and sure I'll eat that

8. Link us a fanfic that made you cry.

Two of Cups by @kitty-bandit makes me cry every time I read it. It's so full of raw love and passion, and has such a wonderful, intimate atmosphere. It makes me very emotional.

9. Link us a fanfic that made you laugh.

Tumbling down the ffxv hole, I've discovered that I love Ignis/Gladio written as comedy. Marry in Haste, Regen at Leisure by fictionfinding is a gem, those fast-paced, quippy dialogues had me howling.

10. Link us a fanfic that left you in complete awe at the writer’s ability.

I'm always completely in awe of @kitty-bandit‘s ability to plot out long, complex stories, fill them with action and tension, and see them through till the end. Her Lost Time is probably where it hit me the most. I'm seriously amazed at how she comes up with all her ideas and puts them together so they fit perfectly like puzzle pieces. I also just have to mention Warmth by @carolyncaves as it had literally reduced me to stumbling in a stunned daze for a few days. I fell in love with the narration there, with those vivid descriptions and the striking way of building the scenes so they grip you tight with suspense.

11. List your kinks.

I don't really read porn and I'm extremely vanilla, but I always appreciate heavy makeouts/clothed sex, some non-con with a heavy focus on hurt/comfort later, and certain very specific aspects of the Fuck or Die trope.

12. How do you come up with your ideas?

I don't really come up with ideas as much as they come to me; I tend to write things I want to read myself. Sometimes I draw inspiration from life (one of my current WIPs is based on a really terrible attempt at an omelette I made recently...), other times they develop from random headcanons as I try to flesh out my desperately lacking characterization and get into the characters' heads better.

13. How do you implement said ideas into a cohesive narrative?

I write mostly short stuff, so there's not really a lot of work for me to do in terms of plotting. If I feel the need to see a particular scene, I just put it down and try to build some more context around it until it can pass for a drabble/fic -- so I think back on all the "why"s, figure out how that situation could come to be and where it leads to based on the characters' reactions and dialogue.

14. What are your working on right now? Share a little snippet or a description.

I'm working on a bunch of stuff, jumping form one thing to another, so... have this tiny bit of a very random promptis drabble? (I'm sorry, I promise y'all some laven for Christmas, but for now I'm just. In the mood for this ;;;;;;;;;)

When he needed to, Noctis could be an incredibly patient man.

He had withstood the trials of adolescence that came with being royalty in a public high school. His scarce public appearances were a constant display of diplomacy and self-control as he deflected obnoxious, invasive questions from the press. He managed not to nap in most of the bi-weekly council meetings. And of course, when all of that was done, he could spend hours on end sitting still and silent on a pier with a fishing rod in hand.

All of that patience, however, evaporated like a daemon on a summer morning some time around his third game over in a row.

"Damn it," he groaned, slamming the control panel with his fist. Prompto flinched, but the dull clang of metal drowned in the noise around them. The arcade was busy enough that no one paid any mind to their crown prince assaulting the machines -- even though Noct did his best to make sure Prompto could hear his discontent over the crowd.

"Did you see that?" He waved his hand at the screen, where his avatar was still blinking red in a cloud of pixellated explosion. "I totally had it! This is cheating!"

"You think it's rigged?" Prompto poked the machine with the tip of his boot. If it was, he couldn't see any signs of tampering, other than the peeling stickers and a few choice words of graffiti on the side.