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stinkywritin · 7 months ago

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SpideyLix blurb

Synopsis: Felix has been Spider-Man for a few months now and he feels like he’s gotten the hang of the job, until he has to save his life long crush from a dangerous situation

*short story I came up with and wanted to get out asap cause I’ve had severe Spidey-Lix brainrot*

Warnings: intended male reader, mild swearing, absolutely no grammar or spell checking, honestly just a little over 3300 words of cringe dialogue/action

It’s been five months since he got bit, three months since he unofficially took up the job of Spider-Man, but he’s spent two years crushing over y/n l/n and Felix is still nowhere near being confident enough to ask him out. He spends his evenings swinging down the busy city streets and helping people from getting mugged, for fucks sake just last week he caught a runaway bus that had its brakes give out before it went crashing into oncoming traffic; and yet every time y/n sends him a small smile Felix feels his knees start to give out underneath him. The two boys had been acquaintances since kindergarten, y/n had moved across the street from Felix and he has been smitten for his new neighbor ever since five year old Felix saw five year old y/n trying to ride his scooter on his front lawn. He liked to think it was love at first sight; while on his nightly patrols Felix’s brain would rattle with thoughts of y/n, he’d replay all his favorite interactions with his crush while daydreaming about what a relationship with y/n would look like. Felix took his role of Spider-Man very seriously, he felt it was his responsibility to use his abilities for good instead of for his own gain or to put down others. He had years of having his kindness being taken advantage of, he always tried to help the people around him even before he got bit by the spider, which meant Felix knew firsthand how negative the world around him could be and how greedy humans were capable of being. But he also knew that the good always overpowered the evils around him, so Felix tried his hardest to be a source of good in the world.

But he was still human, he was still only one person. One person who was head over heels for the boy across the street.

Felix shot a web at a light pole, swinging over the roofs of the cars below him while he swung back home from his nightly patrol. He’d start immediately after class got out — sometimes beforehand but he rarely cut class for Spider-Man duties — and swing by all the local shops in the area before moving into the main city. Felix would scope out from rooftops, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious before moving along, trying his best to keep a low profile but daylight made it difficult. Once the sun sets is when Felix would consider the work to really start.

With the nightfall usually comes a wave of pickpockets or other threatening types, this is when Felix’s heightened senses come to help him become more attentive to the dark city streets.

It’s a windy Friday night at 8:56 pm, Felix is perched on the rooftop of a tall brick building, surveying the busy street corner below. He’s across from a corner store, one of his regular checkpoints since he’s — sadly— had to stop a lot of robberies and fights at this shop in the past, Felix would often hang out near the shop if he knew there was only one employee on the clock, acting as a makeshift bodyguard from the shadows. He’s just about to take out his phone to check his messages—mostly his aunt asking him to pick up groceries or his best friend Hyunjin spamming with photos of his art and dog— when he spots a familiar figure walk up the front door of the corner store. It wasn’t rare for Felix to see y/n outside of class, and yet it still caught him by surprise every time. He sees y/n pull on the front door, hearing the familiar door chime and his crush’s sweet voice greeting the employee. Felix is still gushing about how nice you are—he thinks it’s so sweet that you try to greet everyone so kindly—when he catches sight of a hooded figure clambering into the shop. He feels a familiar chill run down his spine and the hairs on his arm standing up, Felix doesn’t think twice before leaping off the rooftop and swinging to the entrance of the shop.

Felix takes a quick glance into the shop through the glass door, he sees the hooded man holding a gun at face level to the young and terrified cashier with one hand and using his other arm to harshly grip y/n in a headlock. He doesn’t need to hear anything to know the man is holding y/n hostage, intending to hurt the innocent boy if the cashier doesn’t comply with his demands, and Felix knew he could not let that happen. With all his previous ‘nightly patrol endeavors’—as he liked to call them, Felix always felt a sense of urgency to make sure all the surrounding civilians were safe but seeing the boy he cared so deeply about being in danger caused Felix to feel a sudden rush of perturbation.

Felix swung the door open, thankfully slipping into the store unnoticed by the only other people in the shop; the cashier, the guy holding y/n hostage, and y/n, the crush of his life. Felix shot a web at the man’s gun, shocking the guy while Felix yanked it from his grasp before he could process that he was suddenly unarmed.

“Listen I don’t know if you read the sign out front or not-“ Felix casually talks and now points to a paper sign taped on the front glass door reading ‘no weapons allowed’. He continues, now that he has everyone’s attention, “or if you even can read, but this here’s against the rules pal.”

While Felix was chatting, his hands were busy disassembling the gun he just took from the man, he had taken the barrel out of the weapon before throwing the separate pieces above him and webbing them to the ceiling. He had effectively disarmed the assailant, but he still had y/n in his grip. “Alright now let the innocent guy go and we can all just head on home.”

He was sure that the cashier had already pressed the panic button underneath the counter—a device he designed in his bedroom after he stopped the fourth person trying to rob that specific corner store— but Felix offered the possibility of letting him go as a way to try and buy himself some time.

The guy answered, “Until this fucker gives me whatever’s in the register,” the man had pulled a small pocket knife from his back pocket—a move Felix didn’t account for—and held it up to the bottom of y/n’s chin, “I’m not letting anyone out of here.”

The tip of the assailant’s knife ends up piercing y/n’s chin, only beginning to break the skin but causing a few drops of crimson to start falling towards his neck. Felix can pick up on a small whimper he hears from y/n, his sense of hearing seemed to also heighten from the spider bite, which meant even now he could faintly hear the sound of y/n’s heart hammering in his chest.

In a move that can best be described as utterly batshit, before he can think twice Felix shoots a web that catches onto the hands of the robber’s knife—and part of his hand. He pulls back on the web before shooting a second one that lands on y/n’s shirt and yanking the boy forward, effectively removing y/n from the assailant’s grasp and into his arms but now that meant Felix had two separate people to protect and one criminal he had attached to the end of his web. Felix didn’t even have a chance to gush over the fact that he—well, okay more accurately Spider-Man—had his crush pulled flush against his chest with his left arm wrapped securely around his waist, if it weren’t for the fact that the robber had just now seemed to snap back into reality and was coming after him, Felix would be freaking out about how perfectly y/n fits in his arms.

Felix prided himself on being able to think clearly under pressure, trying to stay level headed at all times was part of the job, but having y/n in the scenario suddenly made waves of anxiety flow through him. In an effort to keep him safe, Felix began rapid firing webs at the assailant barreling towards him in the hopes of momentarily stopping him. Luckily one of these lands directly between the guy’s eyes and causes him to stumble backwards in a daze, trying to pull the webbing off his face. Felix uses this chance to dash behind the counter and drop y/n next to the cashier while muttering, “stay here I’ll be right back I swear!” He heard the robber’s angry grunts as he continued trying to clean his face and Felix knew now was his perfect chance, he’d blinded him but he needed to act fast.

He jumped on top of the counter and shot two webs at the ceiling, using them to slingshot his body across the store and kick the mugger in the face. The robber fell backwards into some shelves of chips and landed on his back while shouting. He still had the webbing across his face and while laying back against the shelf, Felix webs his legs to the floor to trap the guy in place. The sound of police sirens began growing louder in the distance, Felix looked up and could see the red lights starting to flash through the window. He ran back behind the counter as he heard the officers enter the store, looking for y/n and the store clerk he told to hide.

“Hey you doing okay there?” Felix says, the mask muffling the sound of his voice. He heard the officers starting to handcuff the assailant and cutting the webs to get him off the floor, Felix extended a hand out to y/n to pull the boy up to his feet.

“Yeah” y/n stutters out, “I’m all good just a scratch.” Felix’s worry still didn’t die down, the boy had a knife pressed up to his head just a few minutes ago yet here he was acting as if it was no big deal.

“Okay well if you need anything I can help okay?” Felix replied before addressing both his crush and the store clerk, “I’m gonna bounce since it looks like the cops got this covered now.”

“Thank you Mr. Spider-Man I don’t know what I’d do without your help,” the store clerk says, gratitude coating his words.

“Let’s hope we don’t find out sir,” Felix jokes, trying to cut the serious tone in the air. He’d been doing the job for a while and receiving praise still made him slightly uncomfortable, not because he wasn’t appreciative but because he felt like still wasn’t doing enough.

Felix swings out the front door that was left propped open from the cops, ignoring the shouts from the police telling him to stay. Felix never sticks around to talk to the police since they always try to figure out his identity or try to get him to stop doing his patrols, he tried to stay in his lane not get his identity figured out. As he swings to the rooftops and starts making his way back to his bedroom, Felix’s brain was full of thoughts of y/n and how to potentially comfort him.

—-

The lunchroom was its usual busy and loud scene, the long rectangular tables full of chatting students and halfway decent food. Felix was sat as his usual spot across from his best friend Hyunjin, the only person he could trust with his secret, mostly because he knew how nosey his best friend was and he knew he could never hide something that big from him. Hyunjin immediately noticed how his best friend suddenly became busier in the evenings and showing up the next day with bruises on his knuckles or a black eye, it took two days for Hyunjin to confront his best friend about this new behavior and Felix came clean when he saw the worry in his friend’s eye. Since then Hyunjin has been his trusted confidant and occasionally helped him hide his identity from the public and especially his aunt, he started calling him his “bestie in the chair” much to Hyunjin’s dismay.

Last night after the incident at the corner store and once he snuck into his bedroom without waking up his aunt, Felix spam texted his best friend about ‘saving the love of his life from danger.’ Hyunjin immediately asked for more details and the two spent way too long texting, only for this conversation to continue into the next day.

“You need to tell him it was you!” Hyunjin said after taking a swig from his water bottle. “You saved his life he’ll definitely notice you now!”

“Thanks for the reminder he doesn’t remember I exist dude.” Even with the close proximity due to them living in the same neighborhood, Felix could never bring himself to talk to y/n for longer than five minutes and even then he felt like he never left a lasting impression. Sure y/n always gave him a smile in the hallways and tried to make small talk if he ever saw Felix, but before the spider bite Felix’s nerves wouldn’t let him make eye contact or any form of normal interaction. Even now with the heightened senses and the new air of confidence — he’s Spider-Man even if he wasn’t in the suit it still always made him feel a little cool — his heart still stuttered every time he saw y/n’s kind eyes.

“Yeah but I bet he definitely remembers Spider-Man saving his ass from a robber” Hyunjin whisper shouts, quickly darting his head around to see if anyone could overhear him, even though the school deemed them as lonely art nerds and mostly left them alone. “I heard him talking to his friends in gym and he said he would do anything to repay him for saving his life.”

Felix poked around his food with his fork, he missed making his own lunches but he didn’t have any free time to prepack or cook. “He’s not gonna believe me,” Felix furrowed his brows at his friend before continuing, “and besides, I’m not gonna use Spider-Man as a way to try and get a date that doesn’t feel right.”

“You’re too responsible for your own good Lix” Hyunjin sighed before putting his cafeteria cookie on his friend’s plate, knowing his affinity for sweets.

—-

The shrill sound of the last bell ringing floods Felix’s ears as he jumps up from his seat and makes his way towards his locker to grab his ‘Spidey-bag’ —the one he kept his suit and extra equipment in which Hyunjin unfortunately named. He’s already started mentally preparing his route for his daily patrol when he sees a familiar figure propped up against his locker.

“Hi Felix!” Y/n cheerily greeted the blonde with a small wave and for a second Felix forgot what he even needed from his locker. He awkwardly waved back, a gesture that made the grin on y/n’s face grow wider.

“H y/n,” they stood a few feet apart from each other, with y/n leaning against the other’s locker with his hands now stuffed in his jacket pockets. “Everything okay?”

Y/n chuckled before responding, “Yeah I was just wondering if we could walk back home together?” The question made Felix’s eyes widen slightly while his heart pounded even faster against his ribcage.

“Uh sure,” Felix stuttered out, his cheeks and nose surely bright red now. “Just uh, why are you asking me now? Not that I don’t mind! It’s just, I uh-“ He was a stuttering mess who surely just scared away his crush, Felix thought. Only to hear another giggle erupt from y/n’s mouth, the blonde can see y/n’s ear-to-ear grin.

“Well you said if I needed any help you could help me right?” Y/n replied, Felix started searching his brain for clues as to when he said something like that. A glint of mischief appears in y/n’s eyes when he sees the blonde’s look of confusion, so he gestures to a small bandaid beneath his chin before continuing, “You said so yesterday, remember?”

It suddenly dawned on Felix that while he technically never made any offers, Spider-Man did. He still decided he’d try to play dumb, so he exhales as nonchalantly as he can act before saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about y/n I’m-“

“No I think you do,” y/n pushes himself off of Felix’s locker to come closer, thankfully by this point the hallways have cleared out leaving the two boys in complete privacy for the time being. Y/n gets a few steps closer before finishing, “I think you remember exactly what you told me, Spidey.”

Felix’s eyes widen in shock before he starts to deny everything, stuttering nonsense while avoiding eye contact.

“Felix I think I would know my neighbor is Spider-Man especially after seeing him fall into his bedroom window last night” y/n’s comment stuns Felix into shocked silence. His bedroom window faced the front of y/n’s house, anyone walking down the neighborhood probably would’ve seen him if they just looked up. The two boys stand in silence for a few moments, Felix processing the shock of someone else finding out his identity while y/n patiently waiting on a response.

“Look okay,” Felix lets out a sigh of defeat. He continues, “literally no one else besides my best friend knows please you can’t tell anyone about this”

Y/n cuts him off by softly responding, “I’m not gonna tell anyone don’t worry Felix.” The smile on y/n’s face is warm and if this were any other situation Felix would be gushing over how cute he is, however he let out a sigh of relief knowing his secret would be safe. “I just wanted to thank you for, yknow, saving me last night.”

“Just doing my job,” Felix shyly responds while trying his best to keep eye contact, the pink tint reappearing on his freckled face. He hadn’t noticed how close y/n had gotten until he was a mere centimeters away, “being your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

“Still,” y/n placed a short peck on the blonde’s cheek before continuing, his voice barely above a whisper, “thank you, I mean it thank you so much Felix”

The spot on his cheek tingled, he felt like his heart was either beating so hard he couldn’t feel it anymore or it’s completely stopped. Felix raised a hand to touch where y/n had pecked him, not once breaking eye contact. Felix gazed into y/n’s e/c eyes, while no words were exchanged he could see the admiration and fondness in y/n’s eyes mirrored his own. They’d have to talk it through but right now that was all the clarity Felix needed to know his feelings were reciprocated.

“So you gonna walk me home now or?” Y/n’s soft voice broke the silence and Felix’s face erupted into a wide grin.

The look of shock on Felix’s face is broken by a sly smirk, “How about something faster?”

—

“Hold on tight okay?” Felix jumped a little when y/n first wrapped his arms securely around his neck, followed by his legs wrapping around Felix’s midsection. This wasn’t the first time Felix had swung around while carrying someone but this was the first time he would be swinging his crush back to his place, that time he carried Hyunjin wasn’t as nerve wracking as this. Felix had led y/n to the rooftop after sneakily putting his suit on in the empty bathroom stalls, all while trying not to freak out that his crush seemed to like him back just as intensely.

“If you drop me I’m suing Spider-Man for damages” y/n jokes while securing his koala grip around Felix, subtly trying to admire how the blonde looks in his red and blue suit.

“Not gonna happen sweetheart,” Felix shoots his first web and starts to make a running start to launch himself into the air. “I got you, don't worry.”

AN: thanks for reading, I’ll probably update this with another short blurb cause I love spideylix so much:,) -V

#stray kids x male reader #stray kids x reader #lee felix x reader #lee felix x male reader #male reader #spiderman x male reader

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grainsofexcellence · 4 months ago

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What happens when Agatha goes looking for a fake date on the buy nothing group? Let's find outttttt ;P

Agatha opened the first group that came up for her, her local buy nothing group. Because while she had left behind her poverty years ago – she was still that thrifty little poor kid at heart. She scanned the page and debated giving away her extra blankets to a woman collecting for a local animal shelter that had just had a fire. She had always loved animals, but the only ones she was allowed to have were the outside dogs, cats and horses on her family's broken farm. She made a quick note of the woman’s post and a reminder to collect some blankets for her that weekend.

She opened a new post and let her cursor blink at her while she thought about how to go about this. She knew this space probably wouldn’t be the avenue for this endeavor, but maybe she could get a good laugh out of the post.

“Greetings All, I seek someone to follow me on the road home for the holidays as somewhat of a stand-in woman in my life, to piss off my deranged mother. I can promise you front row seats to a family drama more interesting than reality shows and Christmas movies combined. An all expenses paid trip to my hometown with me for a week. I know this is last minute, but if you want to do something interesting with your holidays – give me a shout.”

She rolled her eyes – it wasn’t her best work, and yet, she hit post. She let herself pick up her laptop as she decided some hot chocolate and some very strong alcohol must be in order for reading through the comments that were sure to come.

She tilted her head as she found the expensive chocolate powder in the kitchen and wondered if this was more of a weed situation. She shrugged and continued on with her drink, grabbing a bottle of bourbon – she could get crossed, that seemed like a good evening plan. She had done it before with a good amount of success.

She stirred her drink and placed it in the microwave, her eyes moving back to her laptop that sat on her island counter. A man had responded – because of course one had. She leaned over as if she was luring her chest in his face, fucking with him. Well, if he could have seen her. She let her eyes take in his photo. Ah, so not even a man that would have been in her league.

She snorted and ignored the message. She heard the ding of her microwave and returned to get her drink, grabbing her laptop. She wandered into her living room and pulled out a blunt from her cabinet drawer. She sat in her recliner and set her laptop on her lap, took a sip of her drink and set her mug back down, staring at her weed. Her eyes landed on the lighter she needed across the room. She rolled her eyes. A ping had them drifting down to the post, a new man, better looking this time, was shooting his shot.

“You’re stunning, Gorgeous. I would love to accompany you home for the holidays.”

She groaned. “Well, apparently literacy is dead.” But what had she expected? That there might be some woman, some hot woman, that would want to accompany her home just to help her piss off her mother? Maybe she could settle for a stupid man, maybe there would be one that could piss off her mother, even if for a brief moment Evanora would think that Agatha had been “Cured”.

She moved her laptop and went to retrieve her lighter. Upon lighting up, she walked over to her window, cracking it open with force. She held the smoke in her lungs for as long as she could before she let it trickle out slowly. She let her eyes follow the trail of smoke as it blew towards her neighbor’s window, her lips ticking upwards into a smirk.

Mrs. Heart was going to have a field day when she figured out what the smell was and where it was coming from – but Agatha knew the woman would give it a good two hours before she would be able to identify the smell and come stomping over in the snow to confront her about her life choices. She swore it was as if her mother were around sometimes.

She smiled as she saw Mrs. Heart’s nose scrunch up in disgust through her partially open kitchen window. Coughing quickly as the smell must have hit her. Her voice growing frantic as she shouted for her husband to come quickly, a skunk must be outside! Her desires firm that he needed to go chase it away before it got in the house.

Agatha chuckled as she heard the man complaining loudly about how he didn’t want to get sprayed either. As they argued, Agatha took another long drag of the blunt and closed her eyes, letting the smoke fill her lungs and relax her body… and her mind. Both enjoying the moment of stillness.

A ping had her eyes flashing open, the smoke leaving her mouth in a whoosh that sent a cloud billowing from her window. She turned and set her joint down on an incense tray, as she made her way back to her computer. Her eyes ready to pop out of her head when she saw the most beautiful woman she had ever seen respond with a large photo of herself in a revealing black swimsuit.

“Oh, I’m all for pissing off mother’s. Give me a call. (or like a DM).”

Blue eyes scanned for a name. Rio Vidal. Ah, Spanish, she loved a bilingual girl.

She snorted after her eyes had devoured the picture. Had this woman really just posted a photo like that on the Buy Nothing page? She moved to hover her cursor over her name and hesitated before clicking on messaging her. Her self preservation attempting to kick in.

What if she was a psycho? Is this how she wanted to die?

She looked at the woman’s photo once more, and raised an eyebrow, happy with what she saw.

Honestly, how could she be mad at it? What a way to go.

Continue reading:

#pinkpillow19 #sapphic #agatha au #agathario #agatha all along #agatha harkness #evanora harkness #agatha x rio #rio vidal #aaa incorrect quotes #aaa #gay marvel #gay mcu #buy nothing or risk Kathy's Cookies #they are like crack #Rios had them... after sex

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thecoffeelorian · 3 months ago

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Everyone's Got Secrets... (House Husband AU)

A/N: When I first saw Pedro Pascal’s character rushing into battle at the start of this movie, my very first thought of him was this:

He moved in for the kill, just like a wolf.

What does that have to do with fanfiction, you might ask…? Simple. When you add to this the legend that a wolf helped create the city of Rome, my love of the 'Way Of The House Husband' show, and a chat with @braveincafleet , then you may figure out that this is how my little House Husband AU came to be.

Anyway...I hope you enjoy this just as much as I do, and if so, be sure to give it some love before you go back to your scrolling. Thanks! <3

Story Premise: This is a little intro/infodumped backstory for a modern/ex-Mafia version of General Acacius, as that seems to be a writing style I've consistently had over multiple fandoms. It's also a version where he's (obviously) retired and settled down with the modern version of Lucilla Verus, though there are still glimpses of what he used to be like here and there if one is looking hard enough.

Story Word Count: 779 words.

Special Notes: So...maybe I'll turn this into a series someday, maybe I won't. Until then, I'll try and poke around to find more Lucilla x Marcus fics as soon as I possibly can.

No Pressure Tags:

@sweetperfectioncloud @letsgobarbs @rav3n-pascal22 @lilac-boo @iseefire16

@ultra-nina-bella @lunnaisjustvibing @blueheisenbergtragedy @vichons @mysticalgalaxysalad

@hicanivent @marvelforever352 @thischarmingmandalorian and anyone else who would like to read more stories about our favorite General. ;)

Justin Acacius was, according to the neighbors of Imperator Street, a fairly cultured man who wouldn’t dare break the laws of their fair city. Indeed, all outward appearances have never given them reason to think otherwise, for any red flag moments have not yet presented themselves.

For example, by day, he keeps the household of their esteemed Head Curator, Lucilla Gherardi, in perfect working order. This includes making sure that Lucilla herself never leaves the house without a homemade lunch in her possession, because there isn’t much work that a person can accomplish on an empty stomach. During the rare moments that she does, however, it’s not long before he’s on the nearest available bicycle to catch up with her, sometimes even breaking local traffic laws just to get there in time.

(Thank goodness the nearby law enforcement have learned to let him off easy by now.)

Second, there’s what this couple’s closest neighbors have come to label as “Piero Watch”, the daily sighting of the family dog on its walk around 9:15 am every day, most often with Mr. Acacius getting somewhat pulled along behind them. After all, sometimes dogs will go exactly where you don’t want them to go.

Third, whereas some neighbors are occasionally guilty of noise pollution, there's no such disturbance from Signor Acacius' side of the street. Sometimes he brings a friend or two over for short visits, sometimes he goes out for last minute groceries like the supplies needed to make homemade pasta--oh, but never will any strange women be seen going into that house beside him.

He's married, obviously, so he's not about to throw away a good life on one foolish act.

And speaking of foolish acts…neither will anyone notice this gentleman plotting any violence behind Lucilla’s back while she’s out of the house. That’s a vice best left for lesser men, for instead of any shady dealings, he’s much more likely to get into surprise “Cutest Dog” duels with passersby like Mr. Macrinus, as there’s quite the following for groups like these over social media these days.

As Macrinus himself may tell you, these sorts of “battles” will leave no fatal wounds behind them, and all parties involved will go home satisfied.

And finally, by the time that night falls, there’s not much of a change other than the occasional smoke break, if not also the even rarer trip outdoors for a few last minute groceries. In other words, though he might be a slightly imposing figure at times…there’s absolutely nothing to fear where Mr. Acacius is concerned.

At least, not if you’re the average, well-to-do citizen…because for those who wear their sunglasses a bit darker, their skin a bit more tattooed, and keep one eye over their shoulder, it’s a slightly different story.

Should any members of this crowd pass Mr. Acacius in the streets, the title “Il Lupo” is the name they speak. Sometimes they say it with a voice full of fear, sometimes with awe, but all, regardless of their age, status, or sometimes even gender, as this is the 21st Milennia, don’t dare stick around too long.

For the individuals in charge of such groups, be they The Twins in the center to The Emperor a bit further north, they will on occasion ask Acacius’ advice on what seem like trivial matters, such as the right temperature to roast a head of garlic or what is the best detergent to wash out a bloodstain or several—oh, but always from clumsy kitchen accidents rather than any violent executions.

In case you haven’t heard, these modern people don’t do that sort of thing any more.

That’s as far as the mystery reaches, of course, for as the dead can’t reveal any secrets and the living wish to keep their honor, nobody’s ever going to consider speaking up instead. It’s highly doubtful any average person will ever know the truth about Mr. Acacius, either, as there are no known books or magazines ever published that might otherwise hint about his true identity.

If someone were to happen upon the oldest man on the same street where Mr. Acacius lives, however—specifically, the one with a faded SPQR tattoo upon one arm and no photographs of grandchildren in plain sight—maybe they’ll one day hear the story of how the one known as Il Lupo, the one who looks suspiciously like Justin, narrowly escaped life in an Italian prison. Maybe they’ll also hear all about how he became a married man not long afterward, and curiously moved to the very same street address where Mr. Acacius now lives.

But then again…a story’s just a story, wouldn’t you agree?

#gladiator ii #gladiator ii fanfiction #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius #marcus acacius x lucilla verus #lucilla verus #pedro pascal #90% headcanons 10% narrative #inspired by way of the house husband #way of the house husband #justin acacius

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jisokai · 8 months ago

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If it tastes like salt (you know you’re home)

From a young age, Sero knew that he will never be truly alone. And yet he’s always longing for something.

sero hanta x GN mermaid!reader 8.1k words | oneshot, complete

mermaid!reader, Japanese & Ecuadorian Sero, no quirks AU, near-drowning accidents, sooo much longing, overly symbolic depictions of surfing

ao3 option

notes: it'd be criminal for me to not give a shoutout to @/OfMermaids,, it's a BNHA mermaid fic what do you expect lol + smidges of seromina pining

When Sero talks of home, people assume he means one of two places.

The first is Musutafu, images of a concrete jungle situated against the coast. The orderly people of his dad’s heritage, efficient underground transportation, crowds of excuse me drifting through the air. Raw fish, soba noodles, katsudon. Simple wooden interiors with meals seated on tatami mats. Festivals wrapped in yukata, ringing bells at the shrines, lanterns and streamers floating in the sky. Bamboo groves, maple leaves, blossoms of flowers blowing through the air. Continuous days of rain, grey skies, rocky coves by cool water.

The second is the coast of Ecuador, nestled near the North at the edge of a peninsula. His mom’s big extended family, mopeds darting around the road, tented markets stretching entire streets. Fried plantains, empanadas, ceviche. Bamboo and concrete houses, shrimp farms, half-fallen towers still partially standing. Festival parades marching down avenues, brightly striped clothing, beach volleyball that utilizes legs more than arms. Eroding mountains, cacao trees, scorpions skittering on the ground. Humid air, rainy evenings, floating in rolling waves while the sun burns its brightest.

But when Sero talks of home he means the ocean; the Pacific, in all its beauty and terror. Those two shores on opposite ends of the same gigantic body of water, spanning the deepest depths, holding the largest creatures, itself the most infinite mystery. When Sero thinks of childhood, he recounts memories split between two different landmasses, two different cultures. Stories. Connected only by his own life, his 16-hour plane rides. Connected by earthquakes, bamboo forests, rain, salt.

Connected by you.

Sero was once afraid of the ocean.

His neighborhood in Ecuador is more of a village, houses strung along a road that leads up the mountain. Their doors are open as he walks past, a plastic bag thumping against his leg filled with slices of papaya and halved maracuya. He squeals when the neighbor's dog notices him and approaches to sniff the bag. He bounces as he runs down the road, thin sandals shielding his feet from hot pavement and scattered glass.

At just five years old he has free reign to take himself to the beach, so long as he stays near tío's house. It's a short walk down the hill from his family's place, big leafy vegetation opening to light sand in a few minutes. Sero's clumsy legs take him around the side of tío's house, little hand dropping the crinkling bag onto the back porch while he kicks off his sandals. He briefly greets his uncle before heading towards the water, feet happily shuffling through sand.

His free-range lifestyle for the ocean is partially because there's always eyes on him, whether tío from the window or another friendly face on the shore. Sero is used to being trusted in the hands of others, happily accepting the come and go of different blankets of security. The other reason is because Sero is afraid of the water, only ever getting close enough to let it touch his toes. He imagines there are scary creatures lurking, with claws and stingers that seek to hurt him. He sees the way the foam gathers and the water caves on itself as it waves, like it's trying to pull him far, far away.

The beach in this spot is all sand, so he usually digs holes or builds castles. Sometimes he likes to look for shells or play with other kids if they're around. He's alone today, but happily busies himself with sand, imagining a big turtle out of the loose lump he puts together. He thinks the shell could use some better decoration so he marches along the shore to scour for sea glass and shell pieces, the occasional stone. It's a sloppy mosaic, some pieces pushed too far in and spaced unevenly, but he's happy with it.

After his finishing touches he approaches the water, gently tapping his hands against it to wash away the sand. He's hungry and wants the maracuya he brought. But as he stands and shakes away the water, a glint in his peripheral catches his eye. It's in the waves, a shimmering patch of light he's never seen before. It's so beautiful he takes a step closer.

Like the waves sometimes call to him, he is magnetized by this discovery. As he takes a few steps closer the light shifts and he realizes it's an animal.

It doesn't scare him. There are no claws of pinchers in his mind, just the beautiful pearlescent flicker that lingers near the surface, rocking as a wave crashes over.

The water reaches his knees and he's still marching forwards. But his legs—still the clumsy appendages of a five-year-old—falter, and he is tumbling face first into the ocean. The water is immediately pulling him in, retreating as another wave prepares to crash. It's small, but he is too, and he starts to scream in fear and shock. He thinks he's going to be sucked away forever, lost to an abyss of mystery.

But in the next moment he is cradled, by what feels like gentle hands on his waist and shoulder. They turn and righten him despite the force of the water, and push him forwards. His clumsy legs don't fail this time, and he is running unharmed from the water onto firm sand.

His eyes are wide in fright and his breath is labored. He stands there small and sopping wet and confused, quickly turning around in search of a clue to what happened. He thinks he sees a faint shimmer of light on the water, a transparent haze that travels with it. When he looks back to the house his uncle is still on the back porch, energetically chatting with a friend, attention diverted.

Sero's clumsy legs wobble, give out, and now he is sitting in the sand.

He understands that tío wasn't watching him. But there were still eyes on him to keep him safe. The eyes of the ocean, he thinks.

Sero thinks that the water is the safest place to be.

His uncle recounts the way he waddled back to the porch, wide-eyed, and quiet while watching the waves. Usually his face was immediately buried in his fruit, but he ate it slowly, faraway.

His family says something changed that day. He was still Sero, bright and easy-going, but he had a new intensity—a new depth they couldn't reach. They say he would get quiet at times, almost somber. Unsettling for a five year old. And he stared a lot, into the sky and the water, for long periods of time.

Most notably, he starts to love the ocean.

He loves his mountains and the city streets, thick jungles, bamboo forests, humid streams. But now he gravitates to the salty water, spends every moment of his free time there. There is a yearning in his chest whenever he is somewhere else.

It troubles his family, mostly because they don't have enough eyes available to make sure he'll be safe—now that it's not enough for him to sit in the sand or with just his toes submerged. And he wants to go further, away from tío's to explore that area with the rocks and the cliff. And he wants to go alone. No eyes on him.

Which they don't allow, of course. It makes the longing more intense, more painful the longer he's away. But it motivates him when they talk about learning how to swim, teach him how to assess when the water isn't safe, learning the weather patterns, other things he needs to know for him to go alone. Eventually. And he's hopeful when he spots a moment of that shimmer when he’s out there with a friend or family member. He buries his head in books about fish and other sea life. He stares at his aunties drinks, the way the decorated glass scatters rainbows on the wall sometimes.

It gets harder when he starts school.

In Musutafu no less, where the climate and sea life is different and he never sees that shimmer in the water. The beaches get uglier over time, some of them now a place where people dump their garbage. Sero's family talks about the way he cries, every time he goes. But he doesn't want to leave. He spends every moment asking to see the water, just to sob while he stands there and is told he can't swim.

But he finds his spots when he’s in Ecuador for break. By the time he's seven, he can swim by himself as long as there's someone watching from the shore. It's still not what he wants, but it's better. A group of his older cousins like to lay in the sand or kick a ball near the tidal pools, and they agree to take him along. They aren't as attentive as the adults, but Sero is happy for the freedom, the moments where he escapes everyone's gaze.

It's when he sees you.

He's veered off into the tidal pools, the waves gentle and low. He feels a moment of freedom as he looks around the rock formations, seeking something shiny, glimmering, anything that resembles that enchanting sparkle he knows is beneath the surface. He takes a break to sit in the water, sighing at the familiar warmth that rushes over him, like a gentle embrace. After a minute he stands and turns to continue to search when—

There's something, someone in the water. He can see damp hair over the edge of the next rock and walks forward curiously. Maybe a friend or neighbor. His eyes widen when he's close enough to catch a glimpse of your face—small and round like his own, the edges of fins on the side of your head, sparkling markings down your cheeks and jaw. He sees long nails, like claws, shimmering patches on the skin of your arms and—

That beautiful iridescent glow beneath the surface of the water, under your torso. Like mother of pearl, with bands of different pearlescent hues. That same beautiful light that pulls him in. He is walking on confident legs, magnetized towards you with wide eyes and a flushed face. You watch him the entire time, face stern but unthreatening. Serious. Calculative.

"You saved me," is all he can say. Not a question or complaint, but a gratitude. He remembers the soft way you held him, pushed him back to shore.

You just nod once and then lean onto your hand, almost appearing bored. Sero gets the sense that you were waiting for him.

There's no big change that happens once he's met you, other than he spends his time with you happily when you appear. He is finally in the presence of what he's been searching for. You don't talk much, though you seem to understand his words. You aren't very expressive either, but he has a sense for what you're thinking. Oftentimes he sits beside you on the rocks, kicking his feet and offering you the other half of his fruit. He's always sad to leave, but trusts he'll see you again, waving while saying, "Hasta pronto." He still longs for the water when he's away and enjoys his time when it's just him in the ocean. But you are an entirely different gift, and he would sit by you forever if he could. It's harder when he's in school, since you're never on the shores of Musutafu, so he waits impatiently for those school breaks where he'll get to be near you again.

By the time he's nine his family lets him go to the beach by himself, no other eyes trailing behind him. He swims with you, lets you take his hand and pull him underwater for as long as he can hold his breath. You show him reefs, creatures, formations. He watches you swim gracefully, in awe at the way you catch the light beneath the water. You hold him sometimes, when he's weaker from the exertion and needs to be guided back to the rocks. He is reminded of the safety of the ocean's embrace, how trusting he is of your protection. He thinks that maybe the ocean loves him.

Sero learns how to surf, after you disappear.

He's ten, a few weeks away from the end of his summer break. You took him for a swim a couple days ago but he has yet to see you again. He gets nervous when it reaches a week; it never takes this long.

He’s antsy, wading out on his own. A cousin is out in the water one day when the waves are pretty strong. He's paddling on his board to get further out and catches a glimpse of Sero floating, facing the sun. He's laid out his body like it's own board, drifting over the waves as they pass.

"Wanna give it a try?" the cousin asks, already sliding off and pushing it his way.

Sero is skeptical and thinks it's not that fun, but his cousin is adamant he just needs more practice. At the very least it gives his mind something else to focus on, an alternative to sulking as he waits for you. You don't show up in those final weeks, and he throws his energy into learning how to catch the white water. By the time he's back in Musutafu for school, he's just getting steady and working in the green waves. Luckily the few clean-ish beaches by his Japan home have good waves, and he's found a new way to throw himself to the ocean. His family thinks it fits, his easy going nature blending with the come and go of the tide.

He gets pretty good, and soon finds himself pickier with his waves, waiting on his board as smaller ones pass. Some days he finds that the waiting is why he's out there, that it holds him in a gentle and familiar way. It's the closest he gets to being in your embrace again.

Some days, he paddles out and doesn't catch a single wave.

You appear on land.

Middle school starts when he is twelve years old. It's the day before, and his mom is walking with him to show him how to get there on his own tomorrow. Sero thinks it's dumb since there will be crossing guards and other kids, but he tags along with a quiet pout. They turn the corner to walk just one more block. There's another adult walking hand-in-hand with a kid Sero's age, the opposite way.

His mom calls out, "Nito-san! I didn't know you had a kid."

And Sero sees you.

You look just as annoyed as Sero, Nito-san holding your hand while you walk—on legs—lethargically behind him. Your eyes meet him in that intense gaze, and Sero has no doubt in his mind from that alone. Your hair has a slight shimmer, like the faint iridescence of mother of pearl. Freckles are clumped in the places where those little sparkles and scales normally are on your skin, your ears have an angular quality, and your nails are shaped into an almond point. You're dressed in light blue linens, like seawater wrapping around you. Sero feels like he can't breathe, and he's not listening as Nito rambles on. The man vaguely sounds like he's denying it, something about you appearing at his door, that you don't speak much but he wants to see if putting you in school will work.

And Sero can't contain his joy. He's smiling wide as he watches you, you returning your usual bored expression. But he can sense that you're happy to see him too.

Sero is certain that it's you, his ocean friend, the one who calms his longing just by sitting next to him. But when you're dragged away to leave, you turn to wave at him and softly say, hasta pronto—

Sero smiles and skips the whole way home.

The two of you are joined at the hip from the first day of school. At first the teachers worry that Sero has an obsessive crush, but they stop interfering when they see the way you cling to him when they try to separate you. They figure the friendship is good, it'll help you warm up to others and give people a throughline for engaging with you. While it does work in some ways, you're still too quiet and intimidating for other students to befriend.

Sero does the best he ever has in school. There's no longing constantly brimming in his heart, that distracting yearning to be elsewhere, submerged. When he sits by you he can focus, feel at ease in your presence. The parents involved are happy with the arrangement since he also helps you with school, and he communicates with you in a way no one else can. At some point they realize that you aren't actually talking to him so much as Sero intuitively knows what you're thinking.

"We're home!" he calls one evening, the pair of you returning from school. He enters first with your hand in his, pulling you to the kitchen.

His mom watches curiously as she sets the final dish on the table. You two sit as she calls for his dad, and Sero starts shoveling what he wants into his bowl. She notices you're watching intently and asks, "Does your friend want some help?"

"No mom, I got it."

She watches with a furrowed brow when he turns to you, nods after two seconds of eye contact, and scoops a few different dishes into your bowl.

You eat quietly as always and hold your steady blank face. You don't need seconds. At the end when Sero helps clean and gives his mom the remaining empty dishes, he tells her you said, "Thank you for the food."

She doesn't get it, never saw even a trace of whispering occur. Only moments of eye contact and sometimes the twitch of your lips.

It goes on like this. Sero is happy that he can be with you nearly every day, for almost the entire year. You go to the water together in Musutafu. He tries to show you how to surf, but you mostly sit on your board and watch. He likes the days when it's just the two of you floating on the rolling water. He doesn't see you when he's on break in Ecuador, and it's a different kind of longing.

You disappear again, second term of his last year in middle school.

It's sudden, unexpected to everyone. The adults ask him if he knew anything, since you were so close, but he's just as confused. Apparently you simply vanished one morning. He gets sad looks from his classmates, worried looks from the teachers and his parents. He busies himself with surfing, but his mind is distracted in class. His schoolwork lags behind, but his teachers are understanding. He holds out hope that you will be on the other side of the ocean when he's there again.

You're not.

It's nerve wracking, but he remembers that you left for a while once before. You'll come back.

He's popular. Despite his faltering grades towards the end of middle school, he manages to get into the top class at UA. It's one of the best local high schools, with an array of interesting characters—including nosy ones who are unperturbed by his occasional moments of spacing out. They like his easy-going attitude, one that matches well with some of the others. They think it's cool that he surfs. He makes his first friend quickly—a boy named Midoriya who organized the clean up at Takoba Beach Park.

"I went by there the other day," Sero tells his new friend. "It's awesome that you did that. That beach was basically a dump for all the new development that happened nearby. I hope it stays clean." He remembers being a kid with his mom, crying for the water but she wouldn't let him go.

"We should totally go sometime," a girl with flushed skin and pink hair chimes in. "I wanna try surfing!"

Sero shakes his head; he only visited because he heard the news, and he still probably won't find himself there often—there's almost no tidal activity. "There are way better spots for surfing.”

New friend number two eagerly agrees. They chatter away easily, and he finds that enjoys their company. He didn't make many friends in middle school since he was always with you, and after your disappearance the other kids were always cautious around him.

It takes a couple months before they ever get out to the beach together, his new friends wanting to wait for warmer weather. In the meantime they try to invite him to arcades or karaoke, anything outside of school.

"Not today," he tells them. "Ocean's calling."

"Dude, you say that every time," Kaminari complains. "And it's May! Are you actually surfing or do you have some secret mistress?"

Sero keeps his face as blank as he can. "The water temperature is fine. And I've gone to the arcade with you before."

"Once!" Ashido yells. "And that's because there was a lightning storm."

"That's proof that I'm surfing."

When June rolls around they finally make some proper plans for the beach. Sero gets two boards on his bike and rides the twenty minutes to his usual spot. It's a Saturday morning and he's the first to arrive, not wasting a second before he's testing the waters. They're warm, gentle waves today. Perfect for a beginner.

(The kind that make him feel the way he feels around you.)

When he sees his friends trickle in he returns to the shore, pointing out the best spots and then taking Ashido into the water for some brief lessons. He tries to explain it, recalls his cousin years ago. They do a couple rounds where he holds the board for her to stand on before he pushes it to shore. After a while she gets the hang of it.

"Whew. I'm gonna take a break after this one," she tells him when she wades back out to him.

"Sounds good, you seem like you're picking it up pretty quickly."

He misses her looks and her advances the entire time, just focused on teaching her the basics. She's pouting when she meets the others in the sand, glancing back to see him still out there, now sitting on his board much further away.

"How's it going with lover boy?" Kaminari teases.

"Ugh, he's so cute but so dumb!" she whines. "He's taking his coaching job way too seriously."

He laughs, "I can tell."

They watch as Sero spots a wave and starts to paddle. He stands easily and smiles to himself as he walks forward, standing on the front edge. Then he shuffles back quickly, the nose coming upwards as he leans to be parallel to the shore. It's gentle, casual—the board an extension of his body, a means of walking through water.

"Ugh," Mina sighs in defeat when he exits the wave and immediately lays to paddle back out. "I officially give up."

"For real?" Kaminari asks. "After you've seen him shirtless? He's like, chiseled."

The girl just huffs and busies herself with filling a bucket of sand, determined to build a better castle than Kirishima, who's been eavesdropping as he works.

While Mina and Kirishima get into a rivalry with their castles, Kaminari gleefully makes comments to fuel their competition. Occasionally he looks out to the water to see if Sero is pulling something crazy. He watches curiously when he instead sits on the board again, looking into the horizon. He sees him suddenly whip his head and dive into the water after pulling off his ankle strap. He swears minutes go by before the surfer resurfaces, only to take another breath and go back under.

Mina and Kirishima miss all of this, including the part where he flops back over his board and heaves as the waves carry him up and down. The girl grunts after she deems the castle-building competition over and glances up to see her love interest still sitting there in the water.

"I can't believe we finally hang out together and he's out there like a fish," she grumbles.

"Let's go over there then," Kirishima suggests. "He likes the water, we can meet him halfway."

So the trio wanders out where another trio of friends are residing—a flustered Midoriya with Asui and Ochako—before Kaminari calls out, "Sero, dude! Come hang with us!"

Sero turns to them and waves. He paddles to shore, glancing back once when he gets close. "Sorry guys," he says. "I didn't mean to ditch. Let me go put my board up."

They spend the majority of their remaining time together in the shallow depths of warm waves. At one point Sero suggests they go to the tidal pools, which eventually shift into a cove when they round the cliffside.

While the others are hunting for shellfish, Kaminari asks, "Did you see something out there? I saw you go under for a while. Twice."

The blond gets a complicated look in return, only for a moment before it defaults to his relaxed demeanor. He shrugs, "I'm not sure."

Kaminari doesn't know what to make of it.

Kaminari thinks he has an idea when they're on break after second term. Sero immediately flies home to South America for the last week of December, but comes home to Japan in time for New Years. They bump into each other at the festival.

"I like your obi, man," Kaminari compliments. It's a bright array of vertical stripes, contrasting the simple dark fabric of Sero's kimono.

He smiles. "Thanks, it's from my tío."

They make their rounds together, catching up on the last week. Eventually they toss coins and clap under the bell of the shrine. Kaminari hands Sero a slip of paper to write his wish on, and watches how he immediately writes with no hesitation and turns to hang it. Kaminari, ever so nosy, catches the bottom half.

—is okay and that I get to see them again.

He doesn't know what that could mean. He thinks that Sero is a mystery at times, that he's open about most things but it makes his secrets more intriguing.

He figures it out by the last term of first year, when a small group of their friends are at Sero's house. They've learned that they can get him to hang out more if it's for school, since his homework is the other main competitor for his time. They're working together at the kitchen table, and Kaminari is thinking about the meaningful glances Sero's parents kept giving each other and their son at dinner. Mainly because Sero made a point to ignore them.

Todoroki is the only one doing homework at this point, with Kaminari's thoughts drifting away and Mina snooping around the living room. Kirishima returns from the bathroom, and Sero gets up to go next.

"Ugh, look at this," Mina complains as she brings over a photo from the mantle. "No wonder he never looked my way when he had beautiful childhood lovers."

It's a picture of you and Sero from early middle school: you with your typical blank face while Sero is grinning widely. He's holding your hand and lifting his other in a victorious fist, while you just stare at him.

Todoroki's the one who looks taken aback, grabbing the photo from her hand and scrutinizing it. "Isn't that the kid who went missing at the end of middle school? The same one who randomly showed up on someone's doorstep a few years before?" He asks.

There's hushed whispering and grabbing for the photo, but all Kaminari can remember is the slip of paper—with a wish for someone to be okay, to see them again.

Of course, they're a group without subtlety or tact and Sero re-enters the dining room to see the frame being tugged between Kirishima and Mina. They make embarrassed apologies, for the snooping and the rough treatment of his things. But Sero just smiles softly—Kaminari thinks sadly—and takes the photo. They all watch (without subtlety or tact) as he returns it to its place in the living room, using his shirt to gently remove the smudges. No one asks for him to speak when he sits back down, and when Kaminari manages to send him a curious look he just shrugs.

The mystery deepens.

When Sero returns to Ecuador before second year, things have changed. The landscape, specifically—both the physical and the social. There are several new developments along the beach with more roads eating into the mountain. Tourism is denser and the shores are crowded. There are less starfish and urchins and anemone waiting beneath the surface. He watches beer cans and plastic cutlery blow into the water. He feels more eyes on him.

Luckily he has spots further out of reach, places he can be alone if he paddles for a while. He makes his way around the edge of some rock formations and into a deserted cliffside, one of his favorites.

He can't surf when he's out here, so he props his board against the base of the cliff and weaves his way through the jagged edges of stone. The water that makes its way inside is warm against him, and his heart feels a fullness it hasn't in over a year. It makes his step falter, heart racing at the thought of you. Suddenly he is tripping, sliding down into a puddle of sharp rocks and—

He is held, softly, gently. In a warm embrace that puts everything in him at ease. One that calms the yearning in his heart.

He sees you, heart swelling and eyes tearing. And he is in awe.

It's been some time since he's seen you, and even longer since he's seen you in the water. You as a human are beautiful, but you as...you are breathtaking. The smattering of sparkles and scales on your skin, the intensity of your gaze, the way the light catches your tail. And you... you look opulent. Decorated and regal with an air that commands attention. There are fragments of crystals and coral clinging to your body, pearls and shells weaved into your hair. He thinks you could be the divine ruler of the sea. You might be.

And the way you look at him... It's that same magnetic pulse that gives him no choice but to go to you. But stronger. It makes you look angrier, almost, the way you demand to be seen. He thinks you are terrifying. Sublime. Beautiful and dark as the ocean itself.

Sero has half a mind to think about his own appearance, his plain features that he's reminded of everytime Bakugou calls him Soy-Sauce. It's quickly dismissed when he senses your displeasure.

"I missed you," is all he can think to say. You pull him close, hold him tightly against you and he feels your own swirl of emotions, very similar to his. Relief, joy, fullness. Urgency.

The last one confuses him, unsure what could have you on edge. But you're quick to grab him and pull him along, eager to show him an octopus you passed earlier.

Sero follows happily, then nervously when he notices scars littering parts of your body. There aren’t many, but there are a couple big ones on your back, some small ones clumped together on your shoulder, one just below your collarbone and above your heart.

Neither of you acknowledge them and instead spend the day as if it was any other. Until eventually you have to go, and he gets the sense that he won't be seeing you for another long stretch of time. You look at him regretfully, the two of you partially submerged while clinging to the rocks. You bring a hand to his jaw, rub your thumb against his cheek tenderly. Then you lift yourself to kiss his forehead. Sero watches you go, and thinks you were making a promise.

Kaminari senses a change.

Sero has a new level of self-assuredness when second year starts. But when he gets those faraway looks, there's a pinch of concern between his eyebrows. And when Kaminari tells him about the new construction happening by the coast—mostly as a warning when he's biking to the beach—Sero's face goes through several emotions before he passively thanks him for the heads up. Anger, disappointment, even some fear.

But he's the same otherwise, still easy going and fun to be around. Oblivious to admirers. Turning down most invites to promenade in the ocean.

There's just something else that Kaminari can't place a finger on.

More time passes without seeing you. Sero watches as the beaches on both sides of the world crowd with people. Garbage rolls into the ocean. Buildings stand tall, creating a wall between the forest and the water. He thinks of you, with your ornate appearance and your scars. He spends a lot of time wondering.

Over a year passes. They’re near the end of their final term, and Sero can still only think of you. He has no idea about a career or life beyond, he just thinks of the ocean and his friend and the way you hold him. He watches forests fall, bridges get erected, life drain from his secret and beautiful pockets of life.

Sero declines an invite one day, despite the storm raging through. Kaminari watches him closely as the rain patters heavily behind him, a flash of lightning momentarily lighting up the locker room. When the group is headed towards their usual spot, he pauses and makes an excuse to leave. He gets on the train headed towards Sero's usual after-school beach, body tense with a bad gut feeling.

The water is rough.

As much as Sero loves his gentle, warm waves, he also loves the intensity of an angry sea. He finds it exhilarating, thrilling. He thinks it's the best way to plead his trust to the water.

He also thinks he wouldn't mind losing himself in it.

In this moment he knows his world revolves around the ocean, around you. How surfing both keeps his thoughts at bay, preventing himself from wandering in the depths of his own imagination and wanting, while simultaneously bringing you closest, swaddling him entirely in your essence with no escape.

The wind whips his hair around his face. The blackness of the water churns beneath him. Heavy rain obscures his vision but he knows his way around, gliding along the surface. A clap of thunder booms above him. He sees another flash of lightning in the distance before it sounds again.

Only a couple seconds apart.

Sero is unfazed, still running right back into the water to start again. He feels alive.

And there are eyes watching him, he knows. Whether they're yours or anothers, he will always be protected, always be safe despite the cruelty of the ocean. He thinks people have been crueler. He has unwavering faith, unbreakable trust, he has—

He is falling. Tumbling under the swell of a wave, being sucked down, down, down. He feels his head thump against something, maybe the sand at the ocean floor. And then he's turning, churning as the waves keep rolling on the surface but beat him below. He suddenly slams against something hard and jagged—the rock features of the southern shore. He doesn't know how he made it all the way out here, and he can't hold back a scream of pain when he feels how his leg is tugged, twisted from being wedged between the stones.

For a brief moment, Sero thinks he’ll die here. There’s saltwater filling his lungs, the pain driving him to take a fatal breath. He wonders if he will still get to see you. He thinks he can somehow hear the strikes of electricity raining from the sky, even with his heartbeat thumping in his ears and the throbbing pain in his leg, his chest, his head—

And suddenly he is warm. The March water is sometimes cold enough to feel like ice against his skin. It's never uncomfortable, cold water better than no water, but there is never this rush of euphoric heat over his body. He briefly thinks this is the bliss of dying. He then realizes it's you.

He can see the shimmer of your hair, your tail, and fins. He feels that unmistakable warmth, the gentleness with which you hold him.

Your lips press against his and he can breathe.

He's breathing into you, out of you. There is no water in his lungs, just pure and clean air. He is still in pain, but it's fading from his chest and his head. He is filling with relief, love—

His leg is on fire.

It's searing, excruciating, sending white flashes through his vision. At first he thinks it's because you're releasing him, pulling him from wherever he was twisted in the rocks. Then he realizes that you're digging those claws into his calf, where the pain was already greatest. You're squeezing it harshly, his body spasming in response as he wails into you. He thinks you're killing him, that this is the end. He thinks it's fitting, remembering being five years old and pushed onto the shore by an unknown force.

Suddenly he surfaces to the sky. He gasps in the misty air, eyes wide as he watches you drag him up and onto the rocks. Despite your ragged movements and your harsh glare, he feels cradled in your hold. You set him down gently and he watches you captivated. You are as beautiful as he remembers, but again more intense, calloused and jaded. He is beneath you, witnessing the wind wrap around you, hair clinging to your face darkly like some sort of bewitching monster. He is too enthralled to realize that there is no pain left in his body, only awe.

You look at him, look through him. He is helpless under your body and gaze. You hold it for far too short before leaning over to kiss his forehead. Then you slip away into the water.

The warmth slowly fades as he lays there, stunned. The rain is still pounding against him while the thunder rumbles further in the distance. He lays helplessly, entranced. Shivering. His saving grace is a voice screaming his name.

"HANTA!" It's Kaminari, scrambling onto the rocks while panting. "Hanta, dude what the fuck was that!? Are you—are you okay? Jesus, let me help."

And Kaminari's warm hands are on him, forcing him to sit upright. Relief washes over the blond when he sees his friend looks okay, but he's in disbelief. He starts rambling.

"I think I hallucinated or something. There's no way—shit dude I knew you were gonna be out here. What the hell are you thinking? Fuck, you're so lucky. I'm glad you're okay at least, where's that blood from?"

The sporadic topic changes are disorienting, but the last question leads Sero to look where Kaminari's eyes are focused. It's his calf, the one that was stuck and you had pierced with your nails. There are four marks, pink scars as if they were old wounds. There's the remnants of blood washing away in the rain. He realizes it feels okay, painless.

Kaminari carries on helping Sero stand despite the lack of answers. He manages to get his arm around his friend’s back and hoists him up to make their way to a roof. The surfer protests, turning to look for his board. It's somehow behind him, resting on the rocks. He reaches for it and the blond groans, helping them stumble over so Sero can pick it up.

"I think I can stand on my own," he says in a raspy voice. He grasps the surfboard with both hands and presses it downwards, using it as a support. Kaminari gives him a wry look, but lets his friend walk by first. He follows carefully behind, hands ready to brace if either trips.

They slowly make it to the roofed sitting area where Sero left his bike. They sit together silently for a while, with Sero shivering as he tries to towel off and get into his hoodie. The rain turns to a softer drizzle.

Kaminari speaks first. "You... you never answered me, dude. Are you like, okay?"

Sero just nods in response, eyes far away. Kaminari looks at him with a grimace.

"Shit, you're always so hard to read, you know? What the hell are you thinking right now? And seriously, what was that!? Not just the stupidity but—" he's afraid to say it outright. "What the fuck did I see with you out there?"

Kaminari is scared and expresses it as anger. It's because he's hurt too, but can't admit it. He thinks Sero is too distant, that he's never fully honest. Always only sharing half the story, half his thoughts. He wishes Sero would open up more, open up to him. It's only ever looks and body language he doesn't trust himself to read. And right now he looks way too unfazed.

But then Sero is crying, making the saddest face Kaminari thinks he's ever seen. Crouched over himself, throwing his palms into his eyes to wipe away the tears. They're full-body sobs, gross and raw. Kaminari softens at this, feeling a pang of guilt for scolding his friend. He realizes he's not sure what to do, awkwardly bringing his hand up to pat Sero's back.

It crosses his mind that maybe he was too insensitive to Sero's dance with death just a few minutes ago. "Sorry dude, I'm just worried. And confused," he tries to explain. "Take your time though. I'm really glad you're okay."

Sero just sobs some more, for long enough that Kaminari starts to feel pretty bad about the whole thing. And it gives him time for his mind to try making sense of the scene he just witnessed. He wasn't very close when it happened and his vision was blurred from the rain, but he saw something: whatever shiny human-fish creature was pinning his idiot-friend down, unclear if you were saving him or the reason he got swept away.

After a few minutes of shocked sobs, Sero's laughs softly to himself. It freaks Kaminari out, pulling back his hand to grimace in concern. Sero isn't paying attention, instead leaning over to take another look at his leg, those four crescent marks. He looks to his surfboard and sees four streaks, impossible indents scraped through the resin on the tail. And suddenly he's grinning, burying his nose into hands pressed together. Kaminari thinks he might be praying.

And suddenly there are tears again, falling quickly while his face is still pressed into his hands. Kaminari is lost, apprehensively bringing his hand back up for a reassuring pat.

"I—" Sero chokes out. The blond stares, holding out to memorize every word. "I haven't seen them in so long."

And Kaminari freezes, gut tightening at the words. An image flashes through his mind, of a little Sero with a stone-faced friend with shiny hair, of a wish at New Years, the second half reading—is okay and that I get to see them again.

Kaminari just stomps down all the questions from his throat and continues to rub his friend's back.

Kaminari has a bad track record with secrets. At least when it comes to love and crushes, any information he acquires is bound to be public domain.

But Sero thinks Kaminari has a depth that others don't understand. He trusts him enough to share, now that he's seen you. They sit in the warmth of the blond's room while Sero recounts being five years old and saved by the sea. How there were always eyes on him even when no people were around. How you showed yourself, left him, then appeared on the other side of the world only to leave again. Unspoken conversations, meaningful touches, that feeling of ease just from being near you. He doesn't mention the scars or dwindling forests. He doesn't mention your regal appearance now, how jaded your face has become.

Kaminari sighs as he lays back in his bed, puffing his cheeks as he takes it in. "Shit, that's like a whole fairytale romance or something."

But Sero doesn't think so. He just stares out the window, wondering why you were on these shores as your not-human self.

"I guess it makes sense though," Kaminari continues. "You're always going to the damn ocean to surf, and half of the time you just sit there and stare at the water. Plus you're so hard to read sometimes. I could believe that you have a lost mermaid... childhood lover, or whatever, who you talk with telepathically. It sounds crazy to say out loud, but it definitely lines up with all your kooky behavior."

Kaminari turns his head to gauge Sero's reaction, but there's still no response. His kooky waterlogged friend is still looking beyond, yearning. Kaminari watches this for a moment and sighs again, turning his head back to the ceiling. In typical Sero Hanta fashion, his opening up only raised infinitely more questions that will never be answered. While Denki knows that it's a sign that they're closer, he can't help feeling even farther away.

A couple years pass. Sero and Kaminari remain close, sharing rent and working in their respective odd jobs. It's a quiet life at home, though they often have the exciting presence of their friends. Sero hasn't seen you again, despite all his time by the shore and the holidays across the ocean. He hasn't changed much from an outside perspective, but his housemate knows there's something moving below the surface.

It's a rainy evening, on a weekday.

Sero is walking home leisurely, enjoying the way the water hits his umbrella. He ignores his phone buzzing: once, twice, and finally huffs to look at it after the third time. They're messages from Denki. The most recent is a long array of question marks and exclamation points, the one before is THE CONSTRUCTION BY OUR PLACE DUDE, and the first message is a photo of—

He's running, sprinting to the location he recognizes. The backdrop to a figure who's standing there, wet in dark blue linens (maybe they're light blue and dark from the rain), and staring intensely ahead. He runs with everything he has, lungs aching while he pushes past stray pedestrians. Finally, finally, he can see the construction zone.

Kaminari is still standing there, anxiously looking between his phone and you.

His eyes widen when he sees Sero, immediately scrambling to say, "Shit man I wasn't sure, but could that be—"

The way Sero ignores him to keep running towards you is the only answer he needs. He watches his friend's back get further away for one more moment before turning to go home.

Sero's hand is in yours, chest heaving as he squeezes it and feels peace. Your presence, everything he's longed for even before he knew you. You're drenched, staring ahead at the recent pier extension. It spans from the shore to where the start of the forest once was, now a concrete slab of foundation with cranes and crates of material. You are furious.

Sero gently tugs your hand to make you face him, pulling his now fucked umbrella above you in a futile attempt to help. When you look at him his heart constricts with pain. Despair, disappointment, doubt are running through you, aimed at yourself. He can see the tightness in your throat and feel the gentle tremors in your hand.

"I'm sorry," he says, chokes out.

He pulls you again to embrace you, dropping the umbrella so he can gently cradle the back of your neck and put his other arm around your waist. You cry softly into his chest and he holds you, murmurs that he loves you.

He holds you like that until the sky clears and your tears stop falling, as confused passersby step around you on the sidewalk and cars dodge his umbrella rolling down on the street. Under the blue sky you pull your face free to look at him, and he huffs out a strangled noise of his own. He pulls you close to kiss you firmly but gently, still cradling the back of your neck.

"Come home with me," he says when he pulls away. "Stay with me." A plea.

He only needs to see the slight shift in your eyes to know your answer. He lets his hand fall from your neck and pulls you into his side with the one around your waist. He turns the pair of you, guiding you to follow the path Denki walked minutes ago.

To go home, he thinks, now that you'll be there too.

#sero hanta #bnha #mermaid #sero x reader #jiso.fics #alternate universe #climate grief (sunset)

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skullsandsteel · 4 months ago

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🎧 (can do this as the Asset or Bucky now, or both 🖤)

[ Prompt ]

I'll do one for each <3 Or... Or more. I have Thoughts and Feelings

A few for Bucky -

✘✘ [ Never Talk to Me Again - Two Neighbors ]

I hope you never talk to me again And then twist the knife when you stick it in I hope you prove to me in the end That you would toss me aside to save your own skin I hope you come with a grenade in hand So I can pull out the pin 'Cause I don't have The self-control to let you go I don't have it in my soul You're all that I want Please take away your love (please take away your love) Don't lie, don't lie, don't lie I crossed your mind a hundred times Don't lie, don't lie, don't lie You're as fucked in the head as I am

Is it possession? Obsession? Both? Or is it Rumlow trying to claw back some semblance of familiarity-- Anyways, this was sitting in my Winterbones playlist mainly from Bucky's POV. But I feel like it kinda works for either of them. ✘✘ [ Coming Home - Falling in Reverse ]

Your purpose there is still unclear The ghost of you lives on Through everything I see and touch Even when you're gone Even if it's hard Even when I'm far

Brock somehow cares for Bucky the Asset--

A few for the Asset - ✘✘ [ Fight for Me - AlicebanD ]

Every word and every thought And every pointless little flaw Has made this work all seem a little harder [ .. ] I'll cover up your eyes and make you work I'll rob you of your soul and make it worse I'll take away your dignity And make you feel worth less to me I'll spit upon your sanity and god I'll make it hurt [..] I'll snap out any memory that's good (every time I speak) I'll make you feel like any hostage should I'll torture you and neuter you And say that I hate all you do And when I'm done you'll wish that you were dead [ .. ] I'll play with you as I know you like it rough I'll reason that I don't think I'm that tough I'll make you beg for me and plead for me And I know that you will bleed for me And I'll play with you until I've had enough [ .. ] I'll make you cry for me and lie for me And bleed for me and die for me But most I'll make you right for me I'm sure I'm right for you

Brock's a little heavy handed-- He also likes devotion. And justifying his actions. Sometimes. ✘✘ [ Woof - Fka Rayne ]. I don't have much to say other than.. Yeah. Good boy, Bucky :3

You are meat One more word, then you're out on that street Shut your mouth, sit down at my feet Time to learn a little loyalty Ring a bell, get your treat Salivate, eat the whole damn feast Fuck around and I'm yanking that leash Dig in the dirt, counting worms like a beast Walk you 'round the block, put the fear back in god I'll put you down like a dog (woof) Sharp teeth, jaw locked, 'bout to get your shit rocked I'll put you down like a dog (woof) Better get the memo, ass in the kennel I'll put you down like a dog (woof) Pretty fundamental, listen to the whistle I'll put you down like a dog

#[ opcnhighwaymind ]#[ cureycurdisease ]#[ it doesn’t take a killer to murder // it only takes a reason to kill ;; headcanon ]

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bonaxie · 6 months ago

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We're home (Comfy-vember day 21)

It was 1 a.m. and Kate and Clint were walking through the streets of New York, both looking exhausted but fortunately without major injuries. Today's mission hadn't been all that difficult, just long.

"Are you sure you don't mind me sleeping over?" Clint asked, for what seemed like the 30th time.

"Yes Clint, I'm sure. You didn't help me find this apartment so I'd let you drive five hours in the middle of the night to get home." Kate replied, rolling her eyes.

"I can also go to the Tower, or find myself a hotel."

"When there's a perfectly good apartment that could take you in for the night less than 500m away? Forget it, old man, you're stuck with me for the night. Besides, if Laura ever finds out I let you sleep somewhere other than my place, she might not be happy."

"Laura adores you, she won't do anything to you."

"It's obvious you've never been to the receiving end of her disappointed and angry glare." Kate scoffed.

Clint wanted to say that, having met her at SHIELD, he'd seen his wife like this more times than not, but he didn't need to look that far.

"She's my wife, do you think she's never been angry with me?" He said instead.

Kate didn't answer immediately, seeming to ponder, then finally nodded. "You have a point." she agreed. "But still. You're sleeping at my place."

"Okay." Clint finally relented. "You'll never leave me alone otherwise and I really, really want to take a shower and go to sleep."

"Then let's go." Kate said as she pulled her keys from her pocket, opening the downstairs door and holding it open. "Honor to the oldest." She said with a little smirk.

"Respect your elders, I can still wipe the ground with your face if I want to."

Kate only responded with a slight chuckle, and the two headed for the elevator, which arrived promptly, depositing them on the 21st floor.

Arriving at the right door, Kate quickly opened it and entered before Clint. Clint barely had time to close the door before he was jumped on by Kate's furry companion.

"Hey Lucky, we're home." He greeted the dog, who continued to jump on him, barking happily. "Well, what an enthusiast greeting. You look like you've been alone for 3 months."

"That's because Mr Lucky is a real drama queen, isn't he, doggy?" Kate asked as she crouched down, Lucky charging at her and licking her face. "Oh yes, you're a good boy, who's a good boy? Yes you are. You're a very good boy, Mr Lucky." She said in a high-pitched voice that only seemed to excite Lucky even more. The dog licked her in the neck and Kate squealed with joy, truly happy to have her dog back.

Clint looked at them with a softened gaze. It was sometimes easy to forget when they were on a mission, but it was true that Kate was only 23. She was still a kid, and deserved to behave like one from time to time. So the older man decided to let her and Lucky be happy to be reunited while he unfolded the sofa bed and turned it into his spare bed. Yes, he was at Kate's often enough that he could have lived there, but at the same time, he was the one who'd helped her find it, so he could enjoy it too.

That's what he said, anyway. But the truth was, he just liked spending time with Kate, supervising her training and making sure she didn't get killed because she'd insulted the wrong person without even meaning to.

So yes, he was often at her place.

He was about to leave for the shower when a burst of laughter from Kate made him turn around.

"Okay, let's calm down a little before the neighbors call the police on you for disturbing the peace."

"Disturbing the peace? It's late night laughter, it's got nothing to do with it!" Kate replied, on the floor beneath Lucky, looking indignant.

"Yeah? You tell the cops that."

"Come on! You're an Avengers! The cops can't tell you what to do!"

"They can, and they will. But keep it up and you'll see for yourself." Clint turned and headed for the bathroom.

Before closing the door, he heard Kate straighten up, grumbling a little and complaining to Lucky. "Come on Lucky, get up, Grandpa is grumpy tonight."

"Not his Grandpa." Clint exclaimed as he closed the bathroom door.

"Whatever you say!" Kate replied.

Clint shook his head and smiled. Yeah, he liked that kid. But there was no way she was going to meet Peter, they'd make a hell of a team those two, impossible to say no to 2 pairs of sad puppy eyes.

When Clint emerged from the bathroom perhaps 15 minutes later, clean and changed, the apartment was much quieter than before. And yes, he'd put his hearing aids back on.

"Kate?" He called.

No answer. But instead of worrying right away, he went to the girl's room and found her there, slumped in bed, having barely taken the time to change. Lucky was there too, curled up in a ball against the young woman, who had one arm draped over the dog. Both were fast asleep. With the light on.

Clint turned off the light and closed the door, leaving it ajar in case Lucky wanted to go drinking in the middle of the night.

When Kate woke up the next morning, it was to sunshine on her face, and a good smell wafting through the apartment. A little groggy, she straightened her head and saw that Lucky was still there, curled up in a ball against her. But when she moved a little, the dog did the same, stretching out beside her, the two of them waking up together.

"Hi Lucky. Why don't we see what Clint's cooking? It smells great." she suggested.

Lucky only responded with a short bark and leapt to his feet, positioning himself at the end of the bed and looking at her, waving his tail cheerfully, clearly waiting for her.

"Coming, coming." Kate said around a yawn, grabbing her robe and slipping on her slippers.

She went to open the door to let Lucky out, but realized that the door wasn't even fully closed, so her dog was just being dramatic and letting her know how long it was taking her to get up.

"Come on Pizza dog, let's eat." She said, opening the door wide after a pat on the head.

Lucky barked happily and followed Kate into the kitchen.

There, as she'd expected, was Clint, making what looked like pancakes. The older man didn't turn when Kate entered, which probably meant he didn't have his earing aids, or that they were switched off anyway.

"Go say hello to Grandpa, he can't hear us." She said to Lucky, who went straight to the archer, bumping his nose on his leg.

Clint looked down to see Lucky at his feet and smiled, "Hi Lucky." he greeted, stroking his head.

Then he turned a little and saw that Kate was also in the kitchen, her hair a mess.

"Hi kiddo. Sleep well?"

Kate didn't answer right away, but blew out a breath, preparing herself for something. Then she raised her hands in front of her and signed. "Slept well. You?"

Her signs were a little shaky, but Clint understood them all the same.

"I'm fine. But it's a good thing I forced you to buy this convertible instead of a- Wait, did you just sign there?" He asked as he turned sharply, registering this information only after he'd begun his sentence.

Kate didn't answer aloud but nodded, smiling.

"Wait, wait. You know how to sign?"

"Little."

"How long have you been learning? And how do you learn? Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped you. And above all, why?"

"Helpful. Talk with you. No need aids."

Like the first ones, the signs were a little shaky but clearly recognizable. Clearly, the young woman had spent a lot of time training.

And Clint was clearly touched by this. There weren't many people who bothered to learn Sign Language after learning he was deaf, and for Kate, whom he'd known for only a year, to do so did something to him.

But he certainly wasn't going to start crying too, he was a SHIELD agent after all. Instead, he simply placed a hand on Kate's head, ruffling her hair even more.

"Thanks kid, means a lot." He thanked her soberly.

A huge smile took place on the girl's face and she jumped at his neck, wrapping her arms around him. Clint was slightly surprised, but this kind of behavior was something he'd learned to anticipate with Kate. She was very demonstrative after all.

Clint returned the embrace with a small sigh. Damn, those kids were making him soft.

The two archers were interrupted when Lucky came to attention, jumping up to put his front paws on them, barking happily. Or claiming.

"Yes, yes, Lucky, it’s coming. Come on Kate, let's feed your Pizza dog before he ate us." Clint said as he stepped back, still turning on his earing aids to make it easier.

Kate smiled at him and then turned to Lucky, starting to talk to him in that high-pitched voice, and Clint went back to his pancakes, smiling softly.

If this was what was waiting for him at the end of every long mission, he'd do it all over again.

@comfy-vember

#comfy-vember 2024 #day 21 #late night laughter #enthusiast greeting #waking up together #hawkeye tv #marvel mcu #clint barton #kate bishop #lucky the pizza dog

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saintmurd0ck · 3 years ago

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Congrats Rhi!!! You so deserve the followers, you're so talented and I honestly can't get enough of your work 😊 for the sleepover can I ask for some fluff with Frank and reader being neighbors? I'm so sorry, it's my favorite trope ever lol

hi christie my lovely, thank you so much for your kind, uplifting words, always. you're such a gem and i absolutely love you from inside out! <333 this is also one of my favourite tropes, so enjoy! <3 (don't mind me changing my format again because i am indecisive 😵‍💫)

check out my 500 sleepover!

fluff headcanons | being neighbours with frank

frank castle would be the dream neighbour. not only is he the absolute sweetest, but c'mon, the way this man is gorgeous from head to toe?

his kitchen window faces yours, so he comes to the window whenever you're washing up or cooking, taps on the glass so you open yours, and asks you about your day

sometimes he just watches (or well, he's trying to be subtle) -- suddenly finding a random dish in the sink to wash up or put away; making any excuse possible to see you

meeting you over the shared fence, leaning those incredible forearms over top, sweat beading on his forehead as he works out or plays with his dog in his backyard

disrespectfully looking while he's doing said workouts, shirtless and grunting

also, him noticing that you're looking and flexing, making you loosen a little gasp

inviting him over for games and wine, just the two of you

and you're trying to convince yourself that he's just your neighbour and you don't like each other like that

but the way he beams when he sees you... it makes you think differently

he helps you fix stuff that breaks in your house, and gets rid of the bugs you don't want to kill (he's big and scary, but it's funny because he never kills the bugs; he lets them loose outside)

frank gets worried when you're home late, or when you don't come home at all. he wonders if you think the same of him when he goes out of town, or when he stumbles home bloody in the middle of the night

there's a guy you've been seeing a while, and you're not sure if it's going anywhere. sure, he's very charming for a lawyer, and he has the body of a greek god, but nothing compares to the way frank makes your heart flutter

shit. did you really just admit that?

frank castle, the man you've lived next to for a good while, the man you know everything but also nothing about?

one night, it's late, and you can't sleep. you're standing in your kitchen, hair messed up from your fitful attempt at rest, but you flick the light on, peering into frank's window to see if there's any chance, any chance at all that he too might be awake

and he is. evidently roused by the light emanating from your kitchen at what? three in the morning? wearing nothing but sweatpants until he tugs a tight fitting t-shirt over his head

"do you-- can i come over?" he mouths

"yes" you whisper, eyes twinkling

and he asks you what's wrong as he steps over the threshold of your front door, pulling you into a hug that leaves you breathless. "it's not that murdock guy keepin' you up, i hope?"

your eyes narrow a little. you've never told frank the name of the guy you were seeing, but you shrug. "no- no, frank. he's uh... we haven't seen each other in a while. just... can't sleep tonight. needed some company. familiar company."

"of course. what do you need?"

you look up into his brown eyes, expression softened at the way you're biting back a smile. the moonlight filters in through your windows, highlighting every contour of his face, every little perfect imperfection you've come to know and love.

love?

"shit, darlin'... if i- if i didn't know better, i would've thought you were gonna ask me to kiss you--"

"i want you to kiss me"

and his eyebrows raise, his hands still firmly on your forearms. but he presses his lips together, corners turning up into a small smile that radiates through him

your eyes dart up, suddenly nervous. "only if you want to"

and he tilts your chin up, gaze flickering over your face before it settles on your lips. "nothin' would make me happier"

#frank castle #the punisher #frank castle imagine #frank castle x reader #frank castle fluff #the punisher fluff #frank castle headcanon #the punisher imagine #saintmurd0ck 500 milestone celebration #x reader #rhi writes 💻#rhi's mutuals 💗#rhi responds 💌

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abusivelittlebunny · 2 years ago

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Can't stop thinking of this fic idea I had for Logan x Donald that's making me so soft it hurts....

Falling in and out of Love

Basically Logan and Donald settle down in a little house on the edge of a small town in Canada, to raise Laura. Logan is sure it's only temporary at first, he only started fucking Donald a couple of months ago "out of accident" as he claims ("Accident? Did you fall and land dick first in his ass?" Is what Logan's few friends ask him); they're not in a relationship. They're not. Donald just took it upon himself to help them find a place and move in too and share a bed with Logan; and Logan would love to kick him out or kill him (or so he claims) but the bad thing is, Donald is much better at the whole playing house than he is. Donald gets Laura into the local school with extra classes to catch up with her peers and get a good education, and he gets Logan a surprisingly well enough paying job as a driver in this new town ("Did you suck or threaten the guy who'd be my boss?" Logan sneers and Donald just coos "Shut the fuck up, you ungrateful dick." And adds a little kiss on his cheek). Besides that Donald is better at upkeeping the house and he's... a fantastic cook. Logan hates to admit it but it's true.

It's not some gourmet culinary shit but food that warms your soul and is always seasoned right; hell, even coffee tastes better when Donald makes it even though it's just the same instant powder and hot water. Laura, who's been their grumpy edgy princess this whole time warms up to Donald surprisingly fast from all those delicious home-made casseroles, muffins, fried chicken, pancakes and waffles he makes that are just mind-numbingly good. He got the waffle-maker from the house of a guy he was hired to beat some money out of (because of course HE couldn't be fucked to get a normal job, no, he's now working for some agency to be a little reinforcer and hit-man for hire with his other mercenary dogs following loyally behind him). He was so happy when he brought it home too, beaming like the sun and squealing like some little girl about how happy he was that now he could make Laura some killer waffles. Logan first rolled his eyes but those waffles WERE fucking spectacular.

The situation quickly changed from a temporary arrangement to a weirdly comfortable and domestic one: Logan woke up every day to Donald nuzzling against his jaw, peppering him with sleepy kisses and rubbing at his morning wood. If Logan was too sleepy still to roll over and fit himself between Donald's thighs to lazily rut into him eased by the plentiful mess he left in his hole the night before, Donald would just get under the covers and blow him expertly, swallowing his load down and kissing up his torso afterwards, planting a cheeky kiss to Logan's lips that always made him grimace before getting out of bed and pulling on some sweatpants to go down and make breakfast while Logan went off to shower and get ready for work. He'd always come downstairs to see Donald in his cute little apron swaying his hips to some old country music that made Logan roll his eyes but the moment he'd sit down at the table Donald would pour him his coffee and give him a warm plate of buttered toast, scrambled eggs and bacon. Sometimes he switched the menu up, but the breakfast was always filling but not weighing him down. Laura would come downstairs, eager to receive her portion and Donald's sweet treat of the day, be it waffles, pancakes, cookies or muffins, that even Logan couldn't deny himself a couple of.

Donald was just... like a perfect old-school housewife from the movies, keeping his and Laura's spirits up in the early morning and packing them both lunches to take in to school or work, with plenty of fruit and veggies to keep them healthy. Donald had work start later in the day so he sent them on their way with a kiss to Laura's forehead and another kiss on Logan's lips right outside the door so the nosy neighbors could get an eyeful as Donald purred "have a nice day, honey♡". Not what they expected of the tatted up mercenary with the robot arm for certain, but Logan did have people in the grocery store tell him what a lovely family he has while he was struggling to find everything Donald wrote up on his shopping list. After work he'd come home to Donald cooking dinner with Laura studying and doing her homework at the dining table so Donald could ask her about her schoolwork and even help out, and Logan would just sit near on the sofa, watching with utter peace before they sat down to have dinner together. He never really thought he'd have this, this domestic bliss, watching his ...daughter and his.... well. Partner? It seemed they involuntarily slipped into something like that. But watching them talk and laugh and share a really fucking good meal and afterwards curl up on the couch and watch a movie or anything really that was on the TV before Laura headed off to bed with a yawned good night to them both.

And then it was just him and Donald snuggled up, quiet for a while, before Donald kissed his neck and whispered "I missed you today," and then he'd kiss back instead of admitting that he missed him too and before long they were fucking hot and heavy on the couch (sometimes slipping down onto the floor) with Donald's arms and legs wrapped around him tight enough to bruise but Logan gripped him with just as much need. Donald would give out those sweet little noises of his and gasp for more more always more, but try to keep it quiet in case Laura was still awake. It felt good, crashing down between Donald's thighs after a long day and rut out the daily pent up frustrations, but what he really liked was after that, after he let Donald go to take a shower while he washed the dishes, after that, when he was warm and relaxed and done with every chore of the day and he went up to their room, and changed for bed, and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth while watching his pretty boy clean his pretty body before helping him towel off between kisses and then. Then. When they had nothing else on their mind but feeling each other and they could take their time as they stumbled into bed to fuck to their heart's delight. When he didn't feel rushed by his own needs so he could eat Donald out until he was a shaking whimpering mess, or when he could let his boy take control and tie him to the bed and ride him to heaven and back or when they just took their time touching and kissing and... Logan didn't want to use the phrase "making love" but that was exactly what it was. And Donald wasn't the type to be up for any of that sappy shit before, but things were different now, and even if they ended up fucking hard and brutal and nasty four times in a row, they always made time for a final soft and loving round where they ended up falling asleep tangled in each other with Logan's cock still lodged in Donald's warmth.

But then one day, maybe six or eight months after they moved in, Logan came home to Donald not being home. He didn’t think much of it, Donald sometimes arrived home late, blaming work, sometimes even arriving in the early morning if a job proved to be needing it. Logan just heated up the leftover pasta bake they had and fed Laura and himself before plopping down to watch TV. Laura watched it too for a while but headed off to bed earlier. It wasn't the same without Donald constantly commenting to what was on the screen. He initially thought he'd wait for Donald to come home but after midnight he thought he might as well do all that waiting in bed.

But Donald didn't show up, not even in the morning. It didn't taste as good when he made his own buttered toast and coffee, and he could see Laura looking around for Donald before resigning to Logan's scrambled eggs, which were nowhere near as good as Donald's. They were just eggs, and she could make do for a day, no? He gave her some money to buy lunch, but ready made sandwiches seemed like crap after Donald's carefully created homemade packed lunches of joy. Nevermind. They still had the leftover casserole for dinner at least, and Logan wrapped up the last piece for when Donald comes home. But he didn't come home again that night and Logan packed that piece up for Laura to take in for lunch the next morning.

Laura didn't say anything just munched on her overcooked egg on toast. Logan thought about where Donald could be all day through, the bastard left no messages, and he even attempted to call him at his lunch break, but there was no answer. He knew there was no reason to be frustrated about the situation but when he got home late that night and he was met with Laura asking what's for dinner all he could do is sigh and curse Pierce while dialing up the local pizza joint. He thought of Donald coming home late that night, and how he'd be grumpy fuck with that blond bastard for just taking off without a single message and how Donald would have to be sucking his dick nonstop for a week if he wanted Logan's forgiveness and how good it will feel to have him grovel and whine for cuddles at night which Logan will only give if he's in a generous mood. He went to bed warmed by these spiteful thoughts.

But he felt like a failed parent when all he could offer up for next morning's breakfast was leftover pizza; but at least Laura didn't complain openly, she must have seen the toll Donald being gone took on him. He attempted to cook that night. Strong emphasis on attempt because Donald really made baking a casserole look easy when it was really not and they had to end up scavenging through the half-over-, half-undercooked pasta bake Logan could come up with. Laura ended up sneaking a bag of tortilla chips to her room that they'd only ever open for movie nights and retired early saying she has a lot of studying to do. They all knew Laura liked to study right there where they were, but without Donald, Logan wasn't that great a company. He blamed having a rough day at work on smashing that awful casserole against the wall that he had to clean up for two solid hours, but Laura didn't say anything when she saw the stain on the wallpaper or the bits in the trash the next morning.

The fourth morning with no Donald. Logan drank himself to the floor after the casserole incident the night before so with his pounding headache all he could manage was coffee and butter sort of smeared on toast. Laura saw how he looked like a sack of wet shit ran over by a truck and attempted to cook an egg which resulted in an abstract sunny side up that made her finally ask "When is he coming back?" To which Logan could only groan, "I don't know, kid. I really don't know." The night before, when he was fucking raging at his own incompetence he thought if Donald walked through the door now, he'd punch his lights out for being gone without a single call or message. Beat him to a pulp and then fuck him so hard he'd beg for him to stop with tears. But after that day, where he left six messages on Donald's phone and bought ready-made meals and cans of soup to make dinner out of and watch Laura eat with no joy whatsoever and a very pitying look thrown at his direction, he went to bed thinking he'd do anything to wake up to Donald in bed with him. He wouldn't be mad. He'd just ask him not to do it again.

But he didn't. Fifth morning without Donald left him feeling heavy like a stone as he made sunny side up eggs and buttered toast for breakfast. Laura wrinkled her nose when she bit into hers and the yolk spilled out. "He always makes it just right so it doesn't get all runny." She muttered to which Logan replied after taking a sip of his coffee that seemed too fucking bitter that morning with, "Well, he's not here, is he?" Laura didn't say anything else. When it was just the two of them, it was very quiet. Donald previously joked that it was because they were so fucking similar, that if they had nothing to say they just didn't fucking say a thing. When Donald was around though, they could talk like a normal fucking family. Family? What family? They were not a family. Laura was just fucking grown out of his DNA and Pierce was a fucking enemy of his before they stumbled into a fuckbuddy relationship and since Logan killed Donald's previous boss, he wouldn't be getting paid for capturing him so he just stuck around for some dick. Logan was only filling his head with those stupid old movies Donald loved to watch where the mommy and daddy were living in domestic bliss taking care of their child and he projected that fairy tale nuclear family idea onto their fucked up situation. His dinner was beer and macaroni salad from the gas station he brought home after he volunteered for an extra late shift just so he wouldn't have to face Laura that night, but checking the trash at least he knew she ate one of the pre-packaged sandwiches he got her for dinner.

Sixth morning Logan woke up to Laura crunching down on cereal at the breakfast table. He not only overslept, but he never made it to his bedroom (his bed felt too cold without Donald and he thought he was going slightly crazy being there but not feeling Donald's body in his arms). He only had time to pour some coffee into his thermos and Laura handed him a mugful of cereal to eat while he drove her to school. "Where did you get this?" Logan asked while driving, the cereal in the mug surprisingly not a bad idea, and Laura just shrugged.

"You always give me too much money for lunch. I had extra to buy some cereal and snacks on my way back from school."

Logan sighed, "That's for you to save up and buy yourself something nice." Laura frowned at that.

"But that's what I did."

"No, I don’t mean food. I buy you food. That's for me to do."

"Why?"

Because I'm your father and I need to take care of you even if I'm bad at it, is what Logan wanted to say but the words stuck in his throat. "Just because. I'll buy you cereal and whatever you like just... write me a list, okay?"

Laura sighed, and it would have been so much like Logan if not for the dramatic eyeroll, which was so much like Pierce it made Logan's heart clench.

On his lunch break he didn't have the patience for his coworkers; usually they tried to make friends, banter, joke about with him, they've been teasing him too lately for being a sour cunt because his "he-missus" was gone on a work trip, but he couldn't be bothered to deal with them right now, even if they didn't mean any harm, so he went into town to grab a bite at a good enough diner, the one he went to with Pierce and Laura the first night they arrived in the town, tired and hungry. Then the food felt like fucking heaven, but then again, he got spoiled on Donald's cooking since.

When he went in to order himself a burger he didn't expect to see Laura sitting in a booth doing her school work with Pierce's sunglasses perched on her head with a half eaten burger and milkshake by her side. Logan walked over to her, and when she finally noticed him, she looked like she got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Logan just sat opposite of her in the booth and corrected himself to the waitress saying he'll dine in instead of take away, "And, I'll be paying for my daughter's meal as well, okay?" And the lady just nodded, but when he turned back to Laura, the sunglasses on her head were pulled down to cover her eyes.

"I told you I'll pay for your food." Logan sighed but Laura just looked away, out the window, taking sips of her milkshake. She usually preferred the chocolate one but now she was drinking strawberry, Donald's favorite.

"You are. You gave me money for it this morning. The school cafeteria just sucks."

"Don't you still have classes?"

"Not for another hour. I still can't take some classes together with the others because I'm too behind. But Miss Bundy said I'm catching up quick in the afternoons."

"That's good to hear." It was really Donald's merit for helping Laura study normally every day after school; Logan wasn't good at that stuff. "I'm sorry I can't help you like he does."

Laura shrugged, knowing instantly who Logan was referring to. "It's not like he's a hyper genius or something. Sometimes I tell him stuff he didn't know or at least pretends he didn't to make me feel smarter. But it's still nice. Even when he curses out my math homework and he asks me to explain it because he's too dumb for it." She hid her smile in her palm, resting her chin on it and gazing out the window to avoid Logan's gaze. "It's fun with him."

Logan swallowed thickly. "I know, babygirl."

"I miss him." Laura sounded very small then.

"I know." Me too.

"Do you think he'll come back soon?" Laura bit at the nail of her thumb. If Donald was here, he'd tut at her playfully and tell her she shouldn't ruin her nails like that. She did it before, in the beginning, but stopped the habit after Donald painted her nails fun colors she liked. He really had a knick for this parenting thing unlike Logan.

"That, I don't know." Logan looked outside too, all of a sudden unable to look at the orange lenses of the sunglasses. Pierce had a couple of the same pair stashes all over because he hated losing them, so no wonder Laura decided to nick one.

"Do you think he'll come back at all?" Laura muttered, pulling her knees up to her chest. "Maybe he got tired of us."

"I don't think so." Logan tried to reassure her, but hearing her so sad also broke his heart.

"Then maybe he's dead."

Logan didn't say anything. Maybe he was. He could very well be. Logan killed mercenaries like Donald without a thought in packs before. The fact that he didn't end up killing Donald when they first met in itself was a miracle but Donald and his kind knew the work they were getting themselves into paid so well because they could die any day easily. Maybe someone like Logan, or some rival gang took it upon themselves to off Donald who was in their way, an everyday occurrence on the job for them and Donald's current employer couldn't be fucked to send a message to his pet soldiers' families that hey, you just lost the love of your life and the closest thing your child has to a parent besides you, you, who is an utter shit at parenting on your own. Donald could be lying in bits in a warehouse, his blood already dry on the concrete and if his boss is gracious enough he'll have his and his coworkers' bodies scraped up and thrown in the river, if not blow the whole place up to give them an unmarked mass grave.

Meanwhile Logan is left here in fucking agony watching their daughter try to hide her tears behind Pierce's sunglasses and seem strong when the family she thought she could have after a nightmare of a childhood got ripped away from her and stomped upon.

"He could be." Logan finally said, clearing his throat to not seem too choked up about it, and Laura turned to him, looking fucking furious.

"How could you say that?!"

Logan didn't expect the outrage at all, "What? You said it first, I just said he could be-,"

"No! You should say he's not and that he'll come home!"

"That's only in those fucking cheesy movies-," Logan tried to wave her off but that just angered her more.

"No it isn't! If you love someone you should have hope! You should have hope he's alive and that he comes back! You should be telling me it's okay and everything will be okay!" She lost her battle with trying to hold her tears back as she slammed her hands on the table but Logan himself was too fucking heartbroken as well not to yell back.

"But I can't fucking tell you that because I don't think that! I could fucking lie if that's what you want but the reality is he could be gutted in some ditch never to be heard of again by now! And no amount of love will make me think everything will be fine because that's not how the world works!"

Laura stood up and screamed profanities at him in Spanish that Logan had only a vague idea of what they could mean before she took her notebook and bag and stormed out of the diner. Logan tried to shout after her, but she was gone. Better that way. Logan truly didn't know how he could've remedy the situation. He slumped down back into his booth just as his plate of food arrived, which he asked the waitress to wrap up together with the rest of Laura's food for take away. He didn't have the stomach to eat lunch and ended up eating it instead for dinner, leaving Laura's portion at her door that night, because she refused to come out and talk to him.

Logan didn't drink that night, just took Donald's hoodie out of the closet, the one he slept in when he wasn't naked, and he burrowed his face in it, inhaling the familiar scent as he laid in the bed that felt too big and empty now. Usually he was grumbling about Pierce hogging up all the space and how they needed a bigger bed but not now. Now he sniffed at the collar of the hoodie and wished for Pierce's body wrapped around his, cuddling close with his warm breath against his lips and his eyes sleepily blinking up at him as he grinned and said something coy. He faintly realized that he hasn't gotten off since the last morning that he saw Donald.

That day Pierce woke him with his warm wet mouth around his cock, sucking slowly, his head bobbing beneath the blanket, taking his time to lick and suck on his balls too and humm as he deepthroated Logan's thick shaft, nuzzling against his crotch. Logan pet his hair sleepily before turning over, to fuck Pierce's skull into the mattress the way he liked, humping his face shallowly because Pierce could take a throat-fucking so well. He spilled down his throat when he should've pulled out and fucked Donald's tight ass until he was unable to fucking walk, not just dump a load into his mouth like a lazy pig that could only enjoy a blowjob but was too tired to ruin his partner's sweet spot. He shouldn't have bothered showering, he should've been bending Donald over the kitchen counter and rutting into that sweet fucking cunt of his, making him cry out and cum over and over again, have him scratch the wooden surface to shreds. Instead of going to work he should've been eating Donald out until he was a sopping wet fucking mess, whining for his cock, and then he should've sucked on his perfect fucking tits until they were fucking bloodshot and unbearably tender. Then he'd have fucked him against the wall so hard, in thar brutal savage pace Donald likes and he'd have played along with Donald's fucking daddy kink and asked him if he likes daddy's cock deep in his little womb breeding him up? Then after sex, when they'd be sharing a cigar while still naked and sticky, he would have asked if Donald wants more kids? If they should get married and adopt another one or two they could raise as their own? If Donald could be a stay at home parent or just find a less dangerous fucking job so Logan wouldn't be worrying about him so fucking much.

That's what he would've done if he knew he wouldn't be seeing Donald again if he doesn't play his cards right.

Because here he was now, ruining his own orgasm that he built up with his coarse hand, which he no longer had a taste for and he just groaned into the hoodie that he wrapped around Donald's pillow so he could hold it through the night: utterly miserable.

Laura said that if you love someone you should have hope. He didn't know how Laura knew that Logan loved Donald even before he himself knew that, but as he dozed off, he found himself chuckling bitterly at that sentence and his last thought was hoping that Donald comes through the door that night and cuddles him to sleep like he used to do.

Seventh morning without Donald he found himself strangely calm. Like he made peace with his situation. Or he just got tired fighting it and resigned himself to losing with dignity. He played one of Donald's old country songs he loved so much and he hummed along it while he made himself coffee and poured Laura cereal, and on a second thought, himself as well. When Laura, who came downstairs determined to not speak to him and remain angry, stared at him in disbelief, he just shrugged.

"Don't tell him I like this sugary shit when he comes back. He'll start putting me on a fucking diet."

"He won't come back." She muttered, but Logan just shook his head and looked at her reassuringly.

"You don't know that. He could be coming back today."

"How do you know that?'

"I don't." Logan lifted his bowl and downed the rest of his cereal how Donald would with his sweet porridges that drove Logan insane before. When he was done he looked back to Laura who didn't miss the source of the habit. "But that doesn't stop me from hoping."

The stars that appeared in Laura's eyes were priceless, truly. She bit her lip and didn't say anything, but when they walked through the door towards the car she took his hand like a child and Logan squeezed it. They weren't good at words, the two of them, but they could still tell each other what they mean without it. In the car, Logan played the rest of Donald's country Playlist, and Laura wore his sunglasses openly through the ride before they arrived to her school.

"Bye, dad. Love you." She said quickly as she closed the door and rushed off before Logan could fully comprehend it, but then he was late for work twenty minutes trying to comprehend it without crying on the side of the road.

At work he engaged in conversation one of his coworkers, which surprised everybody, and asked him about easy to make home-cooked recipes. He made a list and went to the store after, and worked hard but patiently on that cheesy broccoli pasta. He may had to redo it twice, but he didn't give up. It paid off in the end by the look on Laura's face. She had seconds.

"Alright, I'm gonna put the rest away for if he showes up tonight, if not, you can take it for lunch tomorrow, deal?" Logan asked nonchalantly, and Laura nodded with a hopeful smile.

They sat down and watched an old western movie, one of Donald's favorites after dinner, something they haven't done in a week now, and Logan watched with a small smile a Laura's yawns turned bigger and more frequent until she completely dozed off leaning against his side. He gently scooped her up and off the couch after turning the TV off, and took her to her bedroom where he tucked her into bed gently. He kissed her little forehead and whispered a "Goodnight, kiddo," before he turned to leave, but stopped as an insistent hand tugged on his sleeve.

"You'll wake me up if mommy gets home, right?" Laura asked with a sleepy kitten yawn, looking adorably soft. "Promise me."

"I promise. Sleep now, love." He didn't question why Pierce was now mommy in her mind but he didn't think he'd mind.

"Okay, goodnight, daddy." Laura closed her eyes, and Logan swallowed thickly; he didn't know if his heart could take being called dad by his daughter twice the same day when she has never done it before. Nor did she call Pierce mommy or anything like it before.

"Goodnight, Laura." He whispered before planting another little kiss on her forehead, getting up slowly and shutting the door quietly as he left.

He wiped at his wet eyes as he went downstairs to wash up, a smile still stuck on his face, and he thought about how he should learn how to make Laura some pancakes just as the front door opened.

It felt so surreal now, seeing Pierce walk through the door, like it was a dream come to life. Logan was stuck standing there like he just saw a fucking ghost as Pierce tiredly shrugged down his bag and coat; he looked like he's truly been through it; his one whole arm was in a cast in a sling wrapped around his neck, his trousers and shirt weren't ones he's ever worn before and were probably bought recently but they were still caked in dirt and blood. His prosthetic hand was missing two fingers and his hair looked damp with sweat, matted with even more blood. He had bandages around his neck and shoulder with a dark purple bruise fading around his right cheekbone and his split lip bled as he grinned wide at the sight of Logan. He was still so beautiful.

"Honey, I'm home. Did you miss me?"

Instead of answering, Logan found himself crossing the distance to the door in record speed and pressing Donald's sore and broken body against it forcefully, not caring about the soft gasp of pain leaving his lips because he was crashing his own against them immediately. It was always Donald who was desperate before, not to say he wasn't now, but Logan could easily outmatch him at the moment, kissing him like he was trying to devour him alive, wrapping his hands around him until Donald cried out in pain.

"Fuck, I have a couple fractures ribs, go easy on me, big guy."

"You're never leaving ever again." Logan growled against his mouth, keeping Donald's jaw in his hand to make him focus. "I don't give a fuck what your boss says, I don't give a fuck how much money he offers. You're never leaving my sight again-"

"I can't even go to the store? Or the bathroom?" Donald's chuckle was cut short by Logan's glare. "Alright, okay, alright, I'm not gonna leave, I promise. This was just... a major shitshow, okay? I didn't expect to be gone this long at all. I've already packed my boys up and told them we quit. My unit is going where I'm going. This shit we've been through, I'm telling you-,"

"You can tell me later." Logan took Pierce by the hand, dragging him through the living room and up the stairs.

"Right, I need a shower, good call-,"

"No, you need to say hi to our daughter first."

"Our... daughter?" Donald stopped in his tracks just as they reached Laura's door, his eyes so big and shocked by Logan's words. One of them was bloodshot.

"She asked me to wake her up when mommy arrives back home. She made me promise." Logan watched as Pierce's eyes softened and welled up with warm tears, his laugh sounding like diamonds as he sobbed into it. Logan pulled him close by the back of his neck, planting a kiss to his temple before looking him in the eye, "She missed you a lot. I missed you a lot."

"Careful, I'll think you're in love with me or something," Pierce's smile was so fucking bright Logan had to kiss it again. And again.

"Think later, say hi to Laura now, you dumb cunt."

Pierce giggled and kissed back before opening the door. His "Hi, baby," was so soft and sweet, Laura only sighed at it first, turning in her sleep until Donald sat down on the edge of her bed and gently cooed her awake with light pecks to her cheek. "Laura, sweetheart. Mommy's home."

Laura finally blinked her eyes open and when she caught sight of Pierce she threw her arms around him immediately, squeezing him hard, but Donald only laughed, even if in pain.

Maybe if he was a better father, Logan would've told Laura to go back to sleep, it was late after all but instead he let her drag the both of them down by their hands to show Pierce "the delicious dinner daddy made" which made Donald fucking squeal and look at him with fucking heart eyes.

Laura forced Donald to eat the portion they left for him while she talked about their week without him, and Donald had to admit that was some good food. She was like a completely new child, you couldn't stop her from talking your ear off until she broke off in yawns again, sleepiness finding her once more, and she held onto Logan's and Donald's hands again as this time they were the ones guiding her back to bed.

"You're not gonna leave again, right?" Laura yawned once she was tucked into bed once more.

"No, baby, I won't. I promise." He wiggled his robotic hand's remaining digits. "I'd make it a pinky one, but some son of a gun crushed it. But I'll be busy staying at home and getting better and then I'll make a new one and then I'll make it into a pinky promise, okay?"

"Mhm, okay," Laura closed her eyes as Donald kissed her forehead and whispered, "goodnight, mommy. Love you."

"Love you too, babygirl." Donald's voice broke adorably and he sniffed back some tears before they could erupt as he made his way to the door.

Logan couldn't stop smiling at him even as Donald rolled his eyes at his smug expression, and bid Laura goodnight again before closing the door behind themselves.

"Fucking hell." Pierce whispered to himself before chuckling and dropping his forehead on Logan's shoulder. "We're parents."

"Yep." Logan chuckled back, rubbing his hands over Donald's back and kissing his neck.

"Never would've thought... but... it's nice. Real nice."

"It is."

"You like it too?" Donald peered up at him with a tired but hopeful smile. "This arrangement?"

"Yeah, I think I do." Logan smirked as he added, "For a while. Maybe longer, if I do."

"You remembered that one?" Donald laughed with big eyes and snuggled further into Logan's embrace.

"How could I forget that country shit you play daily?" Logan teased, dragging Donald along to their bedroom without breaking their embrace, stepping together like fucking penguins and it made Pierce giggle. "Besides, Laura wanted me to play it a couple times while you were gone."

"Aww, my baby got my good taste," Pierce grinned up at Logan as he shoved him gently down on the bed so he could help him undress. He really let himself become a pillow princess out of exhaustion, barely moving on his own as Logan removed his clothes.

"So it's over?" Logan asked after a minute of comfortable silence as he peeled Donald's undershirt off of him.

"Yeah. Done deal. The bag? Filled it up with a bit of extra cash I borrowed for my troubles. They won't come looking for it, trust me. I made sure," Donald had that smile on that told him he probably killed most if not all of his bosses. He sighed as Logan started taking his trousers off and leaned back to raise his hips. His torso was littered with red and purple bruises. "It wasn't a good one. The company and the job. I lost one too many good men. Besides, it'll be a pain in the ass to repair my arm without use of the other so I need to find a good mechanic. Fucking animal tried to crush it to bits."

"I'll help. Just tell me what to do." Logan hummed as he threw Donald's clothes in the laundry basket. He frowned as he realized something. "No underwear?"

"It's a bit more complicated than repairing a car, Logan." Pierce massaged his nosebridge, wincing at the cut on it.

"Can't be harder than your fucking five star pasta bake. Come on. Just tell me what to do and let me help." Logan walked back to the bed, watching Pierce's beautiful body beneath him and thumbed at the bruises on his thighs. They had a sort of fingerprint quality to them. "Where did your underwear go?"

Donald snorted, "Don't know if you noticed, but most of the clothes I left in are gone. Got fucking ruined. I got the new ones at a gas station. Long story."

Logan quirked an eyebrow and fit his hands on the marks, spreading Donald's thighs and making him wince as he lifted his hips.

"Love the enthusiasm, honey, but I do need a shower first." Pierce bit his lip and caught Logan's hand before it could reach his ass. "Let me clean up, okay?"

"Did someone fuck you?" Logan asked bluntly, and everything was still for a minute.

Donald swallowed heavily before managing a weak chuckle. "My boss wasn't very happy when he heard I have a hubby and kid at home that I want to return to."

Logan's jaw clenched at the implication and he placed Donald's hips back down, leaning over him to kiss his face all over while growing, "I'll fucking tear him to pieces, I'll fucking rip him to shreds-,"

"It's okay, hon, I took care of it, okay? Most of them anyway. Left some for you to have fun with, though, because I'm such a good wife." Pierce cooed, raining his own kisses onto Logan, sighing into their embrace. "I'm just a bit sore now, so we gotta put that fun on hold for a minute, yeah? I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Those fuckers do though. I'll hunt down every last one of them." Logan growled into their kiss, and Donald wrapped his legs around him, purring.

"Such a good hubby you are, you know that? Makes me think you might actually love me, or something," Pierce chuckled, but Logan could hear the hope in his voice.

"Well. I did keep hope that you'd come back and I could tell you all the things I still wanted to do with you." Logan gave a small smile and Donald nudged him with a bratty impatient whine.

"Like what, like what?"

Logan got back up cheekily and headed to the joined bathroom as he called back, "I'll tell you tomorrow, let's get you cleaned up first."

"Tomorrow?! Come on, I almost died several times, Wolvie!"

Logan came back with a warm wet towel and a bar of soap and shrugged, "But you'll be here tomorrow, so it can wait until then. You'll be here, won't you?"

Pierce pouted as Logan begun cleaning him gently, "I won't be able to sleep if you don't tell me now," he said that but he yawned bigger and bigger as Logan rubbed his aching body.

"I wouldn't trust that." Logan hummed as he cleaned finally between Donald's thighs, careful not to hurt him too much as he dipped in and Pierce bit his lip.

"Can you at least give me a hint?"

"It's about our future." Logan took Pierce by the legs and pulled his body closer, so his butt was right at the edge of the bed. Logan kneeled down in front of it and said, "This was also something I wanted to do to you."

Pierce didn't get the chance to ask what because Logan's tongue found its way into Donald's sweet tight hole he loved so much. Pierce was whining and gasping and trying to claw at his hair with his metal hand as Logan ate him out, slow and deep and sloppy, the way he knew Pierce would go insane from and get a beard burn. He made him cum like that, in a fairly short amount of time. He remembered just how Donald liked it, where his sweet spot was, and he licked his cum up from his belly and fed it to Pierce in a filthy kiss.

"Your turn, your turn-," Donald whispered coyly as he licked the remainder off his tongue, "I'll suck it, let me-,"

"You're tired, you need to get some rest," Logan tried to chide him, but Donald nipped at his jaw.

"What I need is my husband's big fucking cock in my mouth," Donald whined, licking at the shell of Logan's ear. "I've been craving to suck you off all fucking week. Craved you in my ass too, but those bastards ripped me up too bad for that now. Give me this at least."

"You want it? You want me to be your husband? Want me to marry you?" Logan moaned and grinded his erection against Donald's hip, still confined in his boxers, chuckling at Donald's eager nodding. "You wanna marry me, baby?"

"Yes, please," Donald gasped into their wet kiss, tugging on his lower lip with his teeth and groaning, "I wanna be your wife so bad, wanna be yours, all yours, daddy."

"Yeah? You are," Logan hastily kicked off his underwear and straddled Donald's chest, feeding him his cock. He kept Donald to a moderate pace by his hair, the slutty little thing not minding his injuries and trying to throat him down all the way. He pet his face with his other hand and Donald looked up at him with those beautiful eyes of his and those pink lips stretched around his cock, and Logan thought he was the luckiest fucking man alive. "My pretty little wife. How gorgeous you are. And all mine."

Pierce moaned his confirmation around his cock as he swallowed him deep and it didn't take long before Logan found himself on the edge of his climax, but pulled out instead of cumming down Donald's throat. He was met with a bratty whine right until he started jerking himself hastily and then Pierce opened his mouth wide, sticking his tongue out, and looking up at Logan with those fucking eyes that made Logan cum so hard. He painted Donald's darling face with it, covering him in thick plentiful ropes, the fruit of being pent up for a week, and even leaving a generous amount disposed on Pierce's pink tongue which he swallowed diligently.

"Fuck, you did miss me," Donald chuckled, licking at his lips before Logan took the towel to clean him up. "What a fat fucking load. Your right hand wasn't a good enough company? Neither the girls in town?"

"Why would I need any of those when I have a wife at home who takes care of me?" Logan leaned back down and kissed Pierce on the mouth, something he never willingly did after a blowjob and it made Donald giggle and wrap him in a tight hug.

"You mean it?" Pierce asked later in the evening, once Logan was already half asleep against his back. "The stuff about marriage?"

"Why did you think I was saying I wanted to talk about out future?" Logan sleepily grumbled and kissed Donald's nape. "Sleep now, we'll talk about it more tomorrow."

"Okay, g'night," Pierce snuggled in closer, and after a couple minutes added with a barely audible whisper. "Love you."

Logan smiled, "Love you too."

#Spotify #i am eternally soft #i need to make this into an actual coherent and well made fic but currently im just so busy and tired this is all i have the capacity for #logan x donald #i call this ficlet #falling in and out of love #or is that too long?#i couldnt stop humming that song all day

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sublimecatgalaxy · 3 years ago

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hii! i have no idea if requests are open but if they are, could u maybe write one abt fezco or elliot comforting u after ur parents fight, cause mine are currently yelling at each other and i need some comfort. completely okay if u don't want to tho

i hope ur having a good day so far <3

I gotchu honey. I'm here for you always. I'll even do short blurbs of both❤️

Fezco:

Fezco hates when you're upset, his fingers clutching the steering wheel as he turns onto your street. His stomach dropped the moment you texted him, begging him to come pick you up and get your out of this angry home.

It didn't even feel like a home anymore but a hostile war-zone where things turned at the drop of a hat. Typically you did your best to stay out of it like Fezco told you to but sometimes it was hard to just sit in your room, listening to the screams go back and forth knowing you're completely helpless. There was nothing for you to do.

So, like you always do in these situations, you call your boyfriend.

You knew that when you called him that it would take everything in his power to not come in, to scream at your parents to set them straight. He wanted them to stop doing this to you, maybe even more than you wanted it to stop happening. Fez saw how much it impacted your day to day life, constantly afraid to leave his house out of fear of returning to more arguments and screams.

Sometimes everything felt better if you could just hold your head in your hands, rocking back and forth as you cried. But instead, you let your boyfriend comfort you, take care of you, rescue you.

Sliding into the passenger seat, your parents shouts still echoing in your ears, you feel Fez take you into his arms. "I got you." He whispers, his lips pressing against your forehead as you cry, just frustrated and over this being your life.

The worst and best part of it is that they probably wouldn't even notice you were gone. It allowed you to stay with Fez as long as you wanted, as long as it took for you to feel better until it just started over at the sound of the next argument you hear or witness.

But you'd allow just this time, sitting in Fez's arms as he protects you from everything and anything. Even yourself.

Elliot:

Your fists rap against Elliot's front door as angry tears stream down your cheeks. This was the third time this week that you'd found solitude and safety in your boyfriends arms, knowing that he always knew what to say and do. You could find zero peace of mind at home, the space around you never quiet enough for you to even think straight. Between your parents arguments, the blaring music of your next door neighbors and the dogs barking in the neighborhood, you were going crazy.

Elliot was disappointed that you constantly had to escape your own house, a place where you were supposed to be comfortable. But he was happy to offer safety in his own home and his arms. He's used to comforting you at this point, taking you to his bed, lighting a joint and just listening to you ramble and rant for hours. He was just happy to have time with you.

The door opens in front of you, realization immediately slapping Elliot across the face as he sends you a sorry smile. His hand reaches out to take yours, pulling you into the house with a small sigh. He wraps his arms around your waist as you melt into him, utterly relieved and relaxed at his touch.

"Wanna watch a movie this time? I'll do whatever you wanna do." He whispers gently in your ear, his lips pressing against your shoulder as you huff. "Or we could break shit. You seem like you wanna break shit." A small teary laugh leaves your lips, pulling back to look at your lovely boy. He reaches up, gently cupping your cheeks in his hands as you smile gently.

No matter what was happening, he always made you laugh.

#elliot fanfic #euphoria #euphoria series #fezco #fezco x reader #elliot x reader #elliot euphoria #fez x reader #fez #fezco fanfic

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junghelioseok · 4 years ago

Text

clandestine. | 06

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 7.4k [6/6]

notes: we’ve reached the end at last!!! thanks for sticking around through all the sporadic updates, and i hope you enjoy this final chapter!

warnings: some soft, soft smut.

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

The day before your scheduled return to Seoul, your parents decide to throw a joint party with the Jeons. From your bedroom window, you can see the plastic tables and chairs scattered across your adjoining lawns, the tarps and poles that will soon become makeshift pavilions lying in the grass. Though a row of low bushes divides your property, a small stone footpath weaves between the green leaves. You watch Mr. Jeon make his way into your yard, joining your father to unfurl a sign that’s emblazoned with Bon Voyage, {Name}! in bright blue print.

“Noona!” Jimin bursts into your bedroom with zero preamble, the door slamming into the wall behind it. You jump at the sudden intrusion, and flinch when he bounds across the room in two steps and grabs you by the shoulders.

“Ow, Chim,” you grumble, trying and failing to push him away. “Knock much?”

“Help,” he whines, trying to pull you to your feet. “I put too much salt in the marinade, and I just spilled Coke all over the counter. Please come help me.”

You sigh as he casts you the most pathetic look he’s capable of mustering, complete with a quivering bottom lip. Wiggling out of his iron grip at last, you grab him by the wrist and drag him out of your room. “Fine,” you tell him as you pull him downstairs. “You’re lucky I like you sometimes.”

“Love you too!” Jimin singsongs. He swoops in to plant a too-wet kiss on your cheek, and when you squirm in disgust he just giggles and blows you another.

The kitchen, upon your arrival, is empty. “Where’s Mom?” you ask as you grab a rag, tossing it over to your brother so he can clean up the spilled soda.

“She left a few minutes ago,” he replies, sopping up the mess and flinching when some splashes down from the counter onto the linoleum floor. “I think she went to the store to pick up a few things.”

“Food things?” you ask dubiously, eyeing the sizable pile of vegetables and meat on the counter. “Is this not enough? Is the entire neighborhood invited to this thing?”

“You know Mom,” he replies, shrugging. “Just let her have this. She misses having another girl in the house when you’re away. Says Dad and I gang up on her.”

You chuckle. “That sounds about right. On the bright side, though, she only has to deal with you for a few more months.”

“Jeez, that’s weird to think about.” Jimin sidles up behind you and settles his chin on your shoulder. “We’re going to be at the same university soon.”

“Yeah, because you’re a little copycat,” you tease, reaching back to flick him on the forehead. “What’s next? Are you going to start following me around the sandbox again? Come crying to me when someone’s mean to you?”

“Yeah, right.” Jimin steps back and puffs his chest out dramatically. “I’m going to protect you from all those weird college guys, remember? Who else is gonna do it if not me?”

In an instant, your mind goes to Jungkook. Your throat goes dry, and thankfully the jingle of keys in the front door saves you from needing to respond. Jimin’s attention is diverted when your mother steps through with an armful of shopping bags, and you take a moment to shove away all thoughts of your neighbor before following after your brother to help her unpack.

You haven’t seen much of Jungkook since your impromptu sleepover in his room. As your time at home winds to a close, your parents have been increasingly adamant to spend as much time together as possible. Family game nights became routine, and although Jungkook has joined you on a couple occasions, Jimin has seemingly made it his personal goal to ensure that you don’t spend a single second alone with your dark-haired neighbor. Certainly, you’ve texted a bit, but Jungkook’s been picking up more shifts at the restaurant lately and you often see him through your bedroom window returning home after a long dinner shift.

Jimin’s voice draws you out of your thoughts. “Huh?” you ask, blinking, and your brother shoots you an unimpressed look.

“I said, I’m going out back to help Dad with the grill,” he repeats. “Can you bring the cooler out?”

“Oh!” You glance over at the cooler on the ground, filled to the brim with beer and soda. Jimin has a bag of ice in his arms, and you quickly follow him out into the backyard, wheeling the cooler behind you. Together, the two of you push it into an unobtrusive corner of the back porch, and Jimin curses when he upends the bag of ice into it and spills nearly a third in the process.

“Smooth,” you remark.

“Like you could do any better,” is his reply.

It’s just after one o’clock, the sun beaming bright in the cloudless blue sky, when people begin trickling into the backyard where your father and Mr. Jeon have started grilling. You spot Taemin and Minho from where you’re perched on the porch steps, and grin when they wave and begin heading in your direction.

“Heading back to the big city so soon?” Minho asks as he comes to a stop, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “We’re gonna miss you around here.”

“You know you’re always welcome to visit,” you tell him with a smile. “Besides, I’ll be back. I do like to see my family every now and then, you know.”

“When exactly are you leaving tomorrow? Taemin asks curiously.

“Bright and early in the morning,” you reply. “I want to have plenty of time to get settled before I start interning on Monday.”

Minho gives you a squeeze. “You’ll kill it. I know you will.”

“Thanks,” you tell him. You’re about to say more—ask about the rest of their summer plans, maybe—when you spot a familiar dark head of hair exiting the back door of the Jeons’ house. Jungkook is wearing a collared shirt the color of sunshine, the sleeves rolled to his elbows to expose vascular forearms and the silver watch on his wrist. His faded jeans have a rip in the left knee, and you swallow when your gaze automatically trails down to the defined muscle of his thigh, a peek of skin visible through the denim.

Across the yard, your eyes meet. He raises a hand in greeting, his watch glinting in the sun, and you wave back. Everything else seems to fade into the background—Taemin and Minho, the hubbub of the partygoers, even the sizzle of the grill. Jungkook is walking in your direction now, and your throat goes oddly dry at the thought of talking to him face-to-face after nearly a week of intermittent texts and occasional glimpses. Your fingers itch to run through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and your body craves the feeling of his skin against your own. You’d even settle for a simple kiss—the press of his mouth and the slick of his tongue, his palms settling on your hips or looping around to the small of your back to pull you in close.

Needless to say, it’s been far too long since you and Jungkook last slept together. You wonder, vaguely, if there’s any way the two of you might be able to sneak away from the party and head somewhere a little quieter. One last handsy makeout session in his backseat, and one last chance for him to breach your walls with his cock. One last fix of the drug called Jungkook, before you return to your life in Seoul and try to forget the boundaries you’ve crossed in the last few weeks.

Because at the end of the day, Jungkook is your brother’s best friend, and therefore is off-limits. And as if Jimin himself is listening in on your thoughts, your little brother comes bounding out of nowhere, intercepting Jungkook on his path to you and dragging him away to help make more meat skewers for the grill.

The party continues. More people arrive, and you do your best to converse with everyone between bites of food. Many family friends have come out to wish you well, most of whom you haven’t seen in several years, so you put on your best smile and weather the innumerable comments about how much you’ve grown up since you last met. Off in the distance, you spot Jungkook chatting with Junghyun, who has driven in from downtown Busan. The elder Jeon brother has already wished you good luck with your internship, pulling you into a friendly hug when he first arrived, and you would’ve had to be blind to miss Jungkook’s penetrating stare as you hugged him back.

You’re returning from a bathroom break, easing the back door shut, when you are assailed by a tangle of limbs and excited cries. You end up with a faceful of strawberry blonde hair, and laughingly groan as you extricate yourself from the hug, offering a beaming Chaeyoung, Jisoo, and Lisa a grin. “Hey, guys. What’s up?”

“What’s up?” Lisa grabs you by the shoulders and gives you a little shake. “You’re leaving tomorrow! When will you be back again?”

“Winter, definitely,” you promise. “Maybe the summer too, if I don’t have anything else going on.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Jungkook again. He’s looking in your direction, his gaze flitting between the half-eaten burger in his hand and where you’re standing on the back porch with the girls, as if he doesn’t want to get caught staring. The party has been underway for nearly two hours now, and you haven’t even come close to having a conversation with your dark-haired neighbor. It seems as though anytime Jungkook comes within speaking distance, he’s interrupted by friends, family, and at one point, even his family’s dog. Gureum has been a part of Jungkook’s family for as long as you can remember, and though he’s getting rather old, he’s still happily meandering around the yard today. You’ve already given in to his pleading face twice and offered him a bit of food from your plate, and you’ve watched plenty of others do the same. A quick scan of the yard reveals that the little white dog is now fast asleep in a sunny patch of grass, and you chuckle to yourself before your gaze finds Jungkook again. Your eyes meet, just for a second.

“{Name}, honey, can you come here for a second?”

You turn at the sound of your mother’s voice. “Sure,” you tell her, excusing yourself from the group of girls to follow her inside to the kitchen. “What is it?”

Your mom hands you a pile of small paper plates and plastic cutlery. “I’m bringing out the cake,” she says. “Can you put those out for me?”

You nod, watching as she picks up the cake. It’s an impressive two-tiered confection, frosted pale purple and decorated with pink cherry blossoms and the words Bon Voyage! in flowing white script. You make sure to hold the door open for your mother as she exits the house on your heels, and duck your head in embarrassment when a few of your neighbors start clapping at your arrival.

The cake is cut and distributed, and you take your piece over to a shady spot beneath the awning of one of the pavilions your father has assembled. Jimin joins you, wiping a frosting-covered finger on your nose, and you squeal and wipe at it furiously with a napkin before taking revenge. Slowly, the afternoon progresses into early evening, and the party begins to wind to a close. Friends and neighbors begin to trickle out, wishing you well before taking their leave. At the far end of the yard, you see Jungkook talking to Chaeyoung, and wonder what the two could possibly have to say to each other before Taemin and Minho draw your attention away.

“We gotta head out,” Minho says, coming to a stop before you and pulling you into a hug.

Taemin nods, tugging you into an embrace as well. “We’ll see you again soon though, yeah? We’re definitely going to come up to visit you guys at some point.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you tell him. “You’re crashing at Jimin and Jungkook’s though. I’m not taking you in.”

“Cruel, but fair,” Minho says with a laugh. “See ya then, Noona.”

“See you.”

The two depart, and you begin gathering up your used utensils and plates, seeking about for a trash can. You smile at your dad as he walks by, and scratch a sleepy Gureum behind the ears as you pass him. Just as you’ve finally found a trash can and dropped your garbage inside, however, a voice stops you in your tracks.

“Hey, Noona.”

Your heartbeat quickens. Slowly, you turn around, coming face to face with none other than Jungkook himself. His dark hair is ruffled by the breeze, and his silver hoop earrings glint in the late afternoon sun. Tentatively, you offer him a small smile, and he hesitates for a moment before smiling back.

“Hey.”

“You said that already,” you point out, trying to quell the sudden nervousness in your belly and swallowing down whatever moisture is left in your mouth. “Fun party, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook nods. “Really fun. And the food was great.”

You chuckle. “Yeah. We have our dads to thank for that.”

“Definitely.”

A beat of silence passes, and then two. Jungkook is scuffing his heel against the grass, one hand darting up to scratch his ear, and you are just beginning to wonder at his uncharacteristic awkwardness when he suddenly pulls a bag from behind his back.

“Here,” he says, practically shoving it into your hands. “I—I mean, we—got you a gift. From my family. And me.”

Blinking, you peer down at the green tissue paper peeking out of the top of the bag. “Oh, wow. You… you guys really shouldn’t have.”

“It was my mom’s idea,” Jungkook mumbles, looking anywhere but at you. “You can open it now if you want, though.”

You do. Peeling back the tissue paper reveals two items inside—one of which is a lovely leather-bound planner, complete with a calendar and to-do lists and pages for notes. The other is a small canvas, and your mouth falls open when you see what’s painted across the surface.

It’s the lake house. Behind it, you can see lush green hills and trees, all bordering the rippling expanse of blue water. Jungkook has captured the scene at high noon when the sun is at its peak in the sky, glinting off the lake like diamonds. Off to one side, you spot the canoe roped to the dock.

“Wow,” you breathe, awestruck. “Jungkook, this is beautiful. I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s no big deal,” he says, shrugging and scratching the back of his neck. “I had to rush it a little, between work and all. It could’ve been better.”

“It’s perfect,” you tell him, running a fingertip across the canvas. You’ve always known that Jungkook has a talent for drawing, but you’ve never seen him use paint as his medium of choice until now. “Really. I love it, Jungkook. I’m going to hang it up in my dorm as soon as I get back.”

“Back,” Jungkook echoes. “Right.”

And before you can reply—before you can even inhale to speak—he’s pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms looping around your waist and settling there.

“Good luck with everything,” he says once he’s pulled back. And then he’s turning on his heel and walking away, and you’re left to wonder whether these past few weeks were simply a passing tryst after all.

///

As it turns out, your internship is more than enough to keep your mind from straying toward a certain dark-haired young man. Two months after Jungkook left you high and dry, you’re working harder than you ever have in your life. Your mornings are early and your afternoons run into evenings more often than not. “At least you’re getting paid, though,” Namjoon points out, glancing up from where he’s sitting on the couch when you stumble into your shared dorm one particularly late night. “You could’ve been one of the unlucky bastards who got stuck doing unpaid labor at their internships.”

“Oh, good. At least they’re working me to the bone ethically,” you snort, accepting the wine he hands over. Trust Namjoon to have an extra glass at the ready. Your suitemate, despite his flaws, always seems to know when you need a pick-me-up, and you suppose you can forgive his clumsiness and messiness for that. If he keeps it up, you may even start looking past the heart attacks he causes you every time he enters the kitchen and so much as looks at a knife.

Namjoon chuckles and tops off his own wineglass. “So now what? You hungry?”

“Starving,” you admit. “What are you thinking tonight? Pizza? Chinese?”

“Thai? I’ve been craving it lately.”

“I can do Thai.” You lean in closer as he pulls up the delivery menu on his laptop, pointing to what you want before sitting back and letting him place the order. “Can you get me an iced tea, too?

“Two iced teas, coming right up,” he replies. “You wanna start thinking about tonight’s feature presentation?”

Flopping onto your side, you reach into the bag you dropped on the floor and fish out your own laptop. You select a film from Netflix as Namjoon fetches his wallet to pay for your food, and the two of you settle in to wait as the opening credits of Disney’s Hercules roll.

“I’m not a good singer,” Namjoon cautions as the Muses begin their introductory monologue. “I just want you to know that beforehand. But out of all the Disney films? This soundtrack is unmatched.”

“Damn right,” you reply, clinking your glass against his. “Best soundtrack ever. We’ll both sound like dying cats, and I for one can’t wait.”

Namjoon laughs and leans over to flick off the lights. The room goes dark and the music begins, and you’re both singing along before you even hit the chorus. Spending time with Namjoon is comfortable, and though you’ve already lived together through the entirety of your first year of school, these past two summer months have strengthened your friendship tenfold. He’s almost like a brother by this point, and you wonder, vaguely, whether Jimin would get along with him anywhere near as well as you do.

As if summoned, your phone goes off. Jimin’s name lights up your screen, and you frown curiously at it before unlocking the device and swiping open the message.

[7:56pm] Chimchim: miss me yet? 😚

[7:56pm] You: no way, weirdo

[7:57pm] You: what do you even want anyway? sure you’re not the one missing me?

Immediately, your phone buzzes with a response.

[7:57pm] Chimchim: seriously? offensive

[7:57pm} Chimchim: orientation’s in less than a week or have u forgotten already?? good thing i’m reminding u

Your heart skips a beat in your chest when you realize that you had, in fact, forgotten. You remember your own college orientation vividly—a jam-packed weekend filled with building tours and ample opportunities to talk to current students. Several of your friends, you’d first met that weekend as you all tried to navigate a new chapter of your lives—Namjoon included. It’s how the two of you ended up living together—jammed into a suite with two others who thankfully meshed perfectly with the both of you. Neither Hoseok nor Jennie are here for the summer, but you’ve kept in touch while apart. Both of them poke relentless fun at Namjoon for opting to take summer classes, and you never hesitate to join in on the lighthearted teasing.

[7:58pm] You: oh yeah lol

Your response is casual and calm, but your heart rate is anything but. Jimin coming to orientation means Jungkook is coming too, and the thought of seeing him sends an anxious flurry of butterflies aflight in your stomach. You remember texting him the day after you came back—just a simple photo of his painting, hung proudly on the wall above your desk. He responded with a string of thumbs-up emojis, and that had been that. You’ve barely heard a word from him since, and Jimin’s occasional texts and social media posts are the only reason you know he’s still alive. Hesitantly, you type out another message, thumb hovering briefly over the send button before hitting it.

[7:58pm] You: you and jungkook are driving up, right?

[7:59pm] Chimchim: yep! road trip

[7:59pm] Chimchim: still not convinced jk’s car will make it all the way tho lmao

You think back to Jungkook’s beat-up sedan with its sputtering engine and scratchy seats, and the ominous way the passenger side window sometimes rattled if you slammed the door too hard. Can’t blame you for having doubts, you write back, earning yourself a hearty LMAOOO in response. And then:

[8:01pm] Chimchim: i’ll probably have to do most of the driving anyway

You frown, brows furrowing. Why’s that?

[8:02pm] Chimchim: just a hunch. jk’s been weird lately

[8:02pm] You: …weird how?

[8:02pm] Chimchim: just weird. a little distracted, maybe? he doesn’t answer me when i ask him whats wrong

[8:03pm] You: how long has he been weird?

[8:03pm} Chimchim: idk 🤷‍♂️

[8:03pm] Chimchim: 2 days, maybe 3? i think he might be worried about orientation or college or something. either way i don’t trust him to operate a motor vehicle rn

Your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth as you consider your brother’s revelation. It’s perfectly natural to be nervous about something new, but you still can’t help but wonder if Jungkook’s strange behavior might have anything to do with seeing you again. But before you can dwell on it more, your phone buzzes again in your palm.

[8:04pm] Chimchim: i mean srsly he didn’t even hit on mina when we ran into her at jin’s the other day. do u remember her? the girl from the bbq place we went to for grad dinner??

[8:04pm] Chimchim: but on the bright side, it looks like he and chae made up. about time, tbh. things were really awkward for a while

[8:05pm] Chimchim: wait u knew about them, right? they dated for a while?

You take a deep breath before responding, the gears of your brain whirring as you fight to process all of the information he’s dumped on you. Yeah, you write back. Chae told me. They’re okay now?

[8:06pm] Chimchim: yeah. i think they talked at your going away thing

The memory of them chatting in your parents’ backyard resurfaces, and a rush of relief follows it. Even though your conversation with Chaeyoung at the mall confirmed that she was no longer angry with Jungkook, the guilt of sneaking around with him continued to linger in the back of your mind. You’re definitely going to buy her a box of cookies from Kim’s Kitchen as an apology the next time you see her. Maybe even two.

After a few more texts, your conversation with Jimin peters out. He signs off, citing a house party he has to start getting ready for, and you settle back in to watch the rest of the movie with Namjoon, smiling reassuringly when he shoots you a curious look and mouths, everything okay?

Everything is okay, you decide. Jungkook’s weird behavior isn’t your problem, and there’s not a whole lot you could do even if you wanted to, considering how little you’ve spoken in the last eight weeks. That doesn’t stop you from opening up your messages and scrolling down to Jungkook’s name, though. It doesn’t stop you from opening up the last conversation you had—something about a particularly annoying customer at Jin’s restaurant—and scrutinizing every word.

Later that night, just as you’re brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed, your phone buzzes again. The name attached to the text immediately sends your heart into your throat, and you shakily towel off your hands before swiping it open.

[12:25am] Jungkook: i mis s yuo.

Drunk, the little voice in your brain whispers. He’s drunk. Belatedly, you remember the party Jimin had mentioned, and realize that Jungkook must be there as well. Alcohol has clearly loosened him up, enough to instigate this unexpected sentiment, but you are painfully sober. At a loss, you stare at his message until your screen goes dark. Irritably, you wake it up again, unlocking the phone so you can stare some more, and after what feels like an eternity, you type out a response.

[12: 28am] You: drink some water, jungkook

He doesn’t respond. You wait for five minutes, and then ten, but your phone screen remains obstinately dark and devoid of new notifications. Climbing into bed, you check one last time, but there’s still no response from him.

A resigned sigh leaves your lips as you turn off your bedside lamp and plug in your phone to charge. Sinking down into the mattress, you push away all thoughts of Jeon Jungkook as you close your eyes and wait for sleep to come.

///

On Friday night, you once again find yourself working late. Thankfully, Jimin and Jungkook aren’t due to arrive until later in the evening, so you still have plenty of time to change into comfier clothes and eat something before you have to play host.

Or at least, that’s what you thought. When you swing open the front door of your home, however, you’re greeted by two extra pairs of shoes—one of which is a certain individual’s signature black Timberlands, scuffed and worn from years of use. “Joonie?” you call cautiously, toeing off your loafers and skirting around the corner to poke your head into the kitchen. “Are you home?”

No reply. You wander a little further, entering the living room, and that’s where you’re greeted by the sight of your suitemate, his sheepish grin flanked on either side by two very familiar faces.

“Noona!” Jimin is grinning from ear to ear, and immediately skips forward to smoosh your cheeks between his palms. “We got here early!”

You slap his hands away and poke your fingertips into his ribs. “I can see that,” you retort. “What I don’t get is why you didn't bother to tell me.”

Jimin shrugs. “Surprise?”

You sigh and turn instead to Namjoon, who’s watching your exchange with an amused smile. “Thanks for getting them settled in,” you tell him gratefully. “You should’ve called me, though. I would’ve tried to get off work early if I’d known.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Namjoon waves you off. “They got here about half an hour ago, so it wouldn’t have made much difference, anyway.”

“Still, let me thank you,” you insist. “Dinner’s on me tonight, since I have to feed these heathens anyway. Do you want to order something in? Go out?”

“I’m okay either way,” Namjoon says, shrugging, and you turn to Jimin and Jungkook questioningly.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Jimin says. “I think we’re both pretty tired from the drive, so staying in might be nice.”

“Anything’s fine.” Jungkook is staring down at his right hand as if he’s trying to crack a secret code etched in his fingerprints, and when he speaks, his voice is soft. “Whatever you want, Noona.”

You haven’t forgotten about his text from a few days ago, and judging by the way he can’t even look you in the eye, neither has he. It’s strange seeing him here now—wearing ripped jeans and a black t-shirt like he so often does, his feet encapsulated in plain white socks. His hair has grown out since you last saw him, leaving only the barest glimpse of his silver earrings visible beneath the dark, shaggy locks. You can’t help but wonder what it would be like to run your fingers through it, but quickly quash that train of thought before it can progress any further.

The group eventually settles on ordering pizza, which you order and pay for on your phone. Conversation flows easily as Jimin, Jungkook, and Namjoon get to know each other, and when the food arrives, Namjoon pulls out his collection of board games. The remainder of the evening passes in a haze of pizza and game tournaments, and it’s only when midnight has come and gone that you decide to call it a night. Jungkook and Jimin settle into the two empty bedrooms—Jungkook in Hoseok’s and Jimin in Jennie’s—and you bid everyone goodnight before retiring to your own bed.

You don’t miss the way Jungkook’s gaze lingers on your retreating figure, but he doesn’t say anything and neither do you. He’ll be busy with all the orientation events scheduled tomorrow, and you’re planning to spend a good chunk of the day running errands that you don’t have time for on weekdays. The question of why he’d texted you that night remains on your mind, but you don’t want to ask. And you especially don’t want to ask why he’d never responded after that first message. Confrontation has never been your style, and with any luck, you’ll be able to avoid spending extended periods of time with him altogether.

With any luck, this weekend will pass with no further incident, and you’ll be able to spend the remaining few weeks of your summer in peace.

///

It’s just after two o’clock in the afternoon when you return to your dormitory, a grocery bag clutched in each hand and a tote bag draped over one shoulder. You’ve finished up with all your errands for the day, and even managed to get some reading done for one of your upcoming fall classes. Dropping your bags in the kitchen, you stretch your arms overhead lazily before starting to unpack your groceries. Namjoon is holed up in the library working on an essay, and Jimin and Jungkook don’t appear to be around either. A moment of rare quiet is welcome in your normally hectic life, and you take the opportunity to put some music on and change into your comfiest shorts and a tank top.

You’ve just finished popping some popcorn and are settling onto your bed to watch some Netflix when someone clears their throat from your doorway. Startled, you look up, your eyes locking on Jungkook standing there. He’s wearing a loose gray sweatshirt and matching sweatpants, and you swallow when you see the way he’s rolled up the sleeves to expose vascular forearms and the silver watch on his wrist. Jungkook blinks at you silently from behind his dark fringe of hair, and a beat passes before he clears his throat and speaks.

“Hey.”

You straighten up into a seated position, crossing your legs and plopping the bowl of popcorn in your lap. “Hi.”

Jungkook hesitates, then shoves both hands into his pockets. “Can… can we talk?”

“Sure.” You incline your head. “Talk.”

Your curt tone doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Awkwardly, he shuffles his feet for a moment before scratching behind his neck and ruffling his already tousled hair further. “My phone died,” he says, and you blink confusedly at him, twice, before responding.

“What?”

Jungkook winces but presses on nonetheless. “My phone,” he explains. “It died the other night. I was going to charge it before the party, but I forgot to plug it in and then it was too late. I didn’t—” He sighs. “I would’ve texted you back, otherwise.”

Belatedly, you realize he’s talking about his text from a few nights ago and why he never responded. His reasoning is relatively sound, at least, but you still have an unanswered question. “Why?” you ask, your voice soft. “Why did you text me that night? I don’t hear from you for weeks, and then you message me that out of the blue? Why?”

“Fuck, I know.” Jungkook takes two steps into your bedroom, before he seemingly thinks better of it and takes a step back. “I shouldn’t have done it. I should’ve texted you more, or earlier, but—” Another sigh, and this time he rakes his hands through his hair and sends his dangling earrings tinkling. “I’m sorry. I really am. I was being a coward, and…”

Jungkook trails off, and you see that his attention has flitted elsewhere. He’s staring at the painting of the lake house, still displayed prominently above your desk, and you see the gears in his head whirring before he speaks again.

“You… you still have that hanging up there?”

You glance at the painting before looking back at him. “Well, yeah. Of course I do. It reminds me of home.”

It reminds you of him, too, but you don’t voice that particular thought aloud. Instead you turn your attention back to your increasingly fidgety companion, leaning back on your hands and regarding him with your head tilted curiously.

“What were you saying about being a coward? What are you afraid of, Jungkook?”

Jungkook rubs his jaw and sucks in a deep breath. “You,” he finally answers, after several beats that feel like several lifetimes. “I’m afraid of losing you. And I feel like I already might have, especially since we left things so weird at the party. I should’ve…” He shakes his head. ”I should’ve said something sooner. I should’ve told you how I really feel, but I was stupid and scared and I just couldn’t find the right time to do it.”

Your breath catches. Your mouth goes dry and your chest feels tight, and when you try to speak, your tongue feels like sandpaper. “I—” you begin, and it’s all you manage to get out. Jungkook is murmuring your name in a voice so gentle that your heart skips two whole beats, and when you look at him again he is much, much closer than before.

“But I guess late is better than never, right?” Jungkook breathes. Stopping at the edge of your bed, he drops to his knees, and you don’t protest when he takes your hands and cups them protectively between his own. “It’s you, {Name}. It’s always been you. I tried to forget about my feelings when you left for Seoul—tried to convince myself that it was just a stupid crush—but nothing I did worked. I couldn’t forget about you. And then you came back, and I just knew.” Gently, he traces a fingertip across your knuckles before looking up and meeting your gaze in earnest. “I’m in love with you, {Name}. I’ve been in love with you for years, and I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. And… and I really hope that I haven’t fucked everything up by telling you this now.”

“You—” Your voice sticks in your throat, and you swallow thickly before trying again. “You haven’t. I… I like you, Jungkook. I like you so, so much, and I think I owe you an apology for trying to push you away so much. It’s just that these feelings… they’re so new. And I—well, I don’t know if I love you yet, but I think that I definitely could.”

“Then that’s good enough for me,” he replies, his face stretching into a wide, crinkly eyed grin. “As long as you agree to be my girlfriend, and let me have the chance to make you fall for me.” And when you nod, giggling, Jungkook leans in and presses his mouth to yours.

The kiss is soft and sweet, and lasts several moments before a sobering thought enters your head. You break away, frowning, and Jungkook’s brow furrows as he takes in your expression.

“What’s wrong?”

You bite your lip, worrying at the delicate skin. “This… thing. This relationship—what if it doesn’t work? I mean, god, you’re Jimin’s best friend in the entire world. What if we have an argument? What if—what if we break up?”

“We won’t,” Jungkook replies confidently, lacing his fingers with yours before leaning forward to nuzzle his nose against yours affectionately. Instinct has you leaning into him, seeking out proper contact, and you feel his lips curl into a smile as he indulges you with yet another kiss.

“You can’t know that for sure,” you murmur when you break apart, but your voice is readily lost in the huff of laughter that escapes your companion.

“Maybe not for sure,” he says. “But I’ve loved you since I was about eight, and I don’t think that’s going to change anytime soon.”

This time, when your lips meet, there’s a bit more heat behind it. Jungkook curls a hand around your nape to draw you in close, and licks sweetly into your mouth when you part for him. He’s quick to press you down onto your mattress, and you sigh as he trails down your body and takes the straps of your tank top with him. The material falls off your shoulders, leaving just enough room to tug the rest of the shirt down to your waist, and he groans when your bare breasts are freed.

“No bra? Fuck, you’re killing me.”

You arch beneath him, huffing out a breathless little laugh when he seizes the opportunity to envelop a nipple into his mouth. His fingers find the other—squeezing and rubbing and tweaking until you’re quivering in his grasp. “Jungkook,” you breathe, waiting until he lets out a soft hum of acknowledgment. “Jimin—he could come back any minute. Maybe we shouldn’t do this right now.”

Jungkook glances up from where he’s exploring the underside of your breasts, tracing the soft swell of delicate skin with his lips and tongue. “Jimin,” he says, “is at a special session for his major. He won’t be back for hours, so why don’t you relax and let me make you feel good, hmm?”

And, without even waiting for an answer, he drops down to his knees and digs his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts. Your legs are dangling off the edge of the bed, and Jungkook easily tugs the material off them, taking your panties right along with it. Tossing them aside, he doesn’t hesitate to spread your legs and slot himself into the newly created space. His tongue darts out to moisten his lips, and your breath hitches when you glance down the length of your body and see the ravenous glint in his eyes.

There’s no doubt in your mind that you’re wet enough to take his cock right now. You can feel the slick gathering between your legs, and the smirk on Jungkook’s face tells you that he’s noticed it too. Teasingly, he presses an experimental fingertip to your clit, watching in satisfaction as your hips buck off the mattress at the flare of pleasure. Then he’s sliding down, sinking a lone finger into your entrance and curling upward to find the soft spot that he knows will unravel you in a matter of minutes. A gasp escapes you when he finds it, your hips rising again, and he soothes you with a warm palm on your thigh and a sweet kiss to your hipbone.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly Jungkook is able to build up your orgasm, but then again, you suppose you shouldn’t be surprised. He’s always been a quick study, and you’ve never been sure whether it’s stubbornness or determination that drives him to excel at his passions. Here and now, with two of his fingers buried inside your cunt and a third teasing its way in, you don’t even care which it is. All that matters is the pressure building in the pit of your belly, and the way Jungkook keeps murmuring your name and encouraging you to cum for me, princess. It’s enough to push you over the edge, your back arching off the bed and your lips parting in a moan as you ride out your high.

“So pretty.” Jungkook circles your clit with his thumb, his fingers still sheathed within your walls. “You always take my fingers so well.”

“Think I’d rather take your cock instead,” you reply breathlessly, sagging back against the mattress and reaching for him. Jungkook takes the hint, gritting out a hoarse curse before crawling up your mostly bare body and crushing his mouth to yours in a searing kiss. You grab the hem of his gray sweatshirt, pulling it up and over his head, and are more than pleased to discover he’s not wearing anything underneath. His sweatpants soon follow, Jungkook impatiently kicking the material off his ankles, and you sigh out his name when he wraps you in his arms, skin against skin.

“I’m not going to last very long,” he warns you, his breath a puff of hot air against the shell of your ear. “Promise I’ll make it up to you later. Just wanna feel you right now.”

“Go on, then,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “How do you want me?”

Jungkook groans, no doubt having a furious internal debate with himself, before reaching down and taking his cock in one hand. “Just like this,” he decides, gazing down at the way you’re spread out on your back for him. Deliberately, he settles between your thighs, giving himself a few pumps before positioning himself at your entrance. “Wanna kiss you while I fuck you. Wanna kiss you for the rest of my life.”

He’s pushing forward then, stealing the breath from your lungs along with any thoughts that may have crossed your mind at his last sentiment. Jungkook sinks into you until you’re gasping at the fullness, his hands grabbing at the meat of your hips and pulling you against him with every thrust. He fucks into you with reckless abandon, hoarse praise and gritted curses falling freely from his lips as he uses your body to seek out his own high. Every now and then, his mouth seeks out yours in a sloppy kiss, which you happily indulge as his rhythm falters and becomes increasingly erratic.

Jungkook floods you with his warmth, his arms gathering you up tightly as his cock slowly softens within you. His lips find yours, and this kiss is a simple, tender one—an affectionate press and a crinkly eyed smile that has you automatically smiling back.

“I don’t know why you’re so happy,” you tease, poking him in his slightly sweaty chest. “Jimin’s going to throttle you for this, you know.”

“Worth it,” he replies cheekily. “Anything’s worth it as long as you kiss me better afterward.”

“Gross,” you tell him, laughing. “You’re so lame.”

“But you still like me,” he says with a shrug. Then he grins. “The real question, though, is whether you like me enough to help me move in the fall.”

You hum, hiding your smile. “Depends. What’s in it for me?”

A positively wicked grin spreads across his face and settles there. “Why don’t I give you a preview?”

///

A few weeks later -

Jimin hums softly under his breath as he strolls into his new dorm, a cardboard box cradled in his arms. There’s a growing pile of boxes in the middle of the living area already, and he’s only just found an empty spot to drop the latest when he hears an odd noise coming from the bathroom. A wet, smacking sound, kind of like—

“Jungkook, you dog,” he snorts, throwing the cracked door open. “Get your ass out here and help me unpa—“ He stops in his tracks.

The scene before him doesn’t make sense. Jungkook is standing in front of him with wide eyes and fear in his expression, but that doesn’t make sense. At least it doesn’t until he sees you in the reflection of the mirror over the sink, your clothes disheveled and your lips swollen.

“Wait, we can explain,” Jungkook begins, following the trajectory of Jimin’s gaze and waving his hands in a fluttery panic. “I swear, Jimin, it’s not what you think—“

“That’s my sister,” Jimin says, his voice dangerously calm.

“Yeah, but—”

“You put your hands on my sister,” Jimin continues matter-of-factly, as if Jungkook hadn’t spoken at all. “I’m going to fillet your dick with a dull knife and serve it over rice.”

And before you can catch your breath and open your mouth to stop him, Jimin leaps forward, his fingers aimed directly for Jungkook’s throat.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts fic #kpop scenarios #brother's best friend au #lia writes

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highdramas · 4 years ago

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forever is the sweetest con | b.b.

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝'𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: language and tfatws spoilers? not really but just in case

word count: 2167

summary: bucky makes a friend in his neighbor and her cat.

note: hiiiii so happy that so many people enjoyed the world's a little blurry! i am going to be writing multiple one shots, all connecting and showing little snapshots from the life of bucky and the reader <3 you don't have to read them in order, but reading all of them will help you better understand the relationship!

enjoy! <3

“stupid fucking thing.”

the swearing followed by incoherent irritable grumbling is like a dog whistle to bucky barnes. he’s standing outside of his apartment, lingering in the hallway, waiting to see if the person will speak again. to the surprise of no one, bucky hasn’t put much effort into getting to know his neighbors. he gives curt nods as he passes them in the hallway, tries his best to muster a smile when he gets caught at the mailbox beside someone else. he thinks that it looks more like a grimace than anything, but still-- it’s something.

“son of a bitch.”

the voice is feminine, and it is angry. he’s trying to discern if there is any immediate distress, and if there is-- maybe he can help. he’s pulled from his thoughts quickly as a door swings open and a large box is thrown out onto the doorstep. “fucking hell.”

the door doesn’t close. it stays open, still swinging, as if recoiling from the force in which it was tossed open. bucky could very easily continue on his way to his apartment, put away the few groceries he had purchased-- mostly pasta and cereal-- and spend his evening how he spends most evenings. fighting off sleep, because he knows what comes the moment consciousness fades and the darkness swallows him whole.

but he doesn’t.

instead, he dashes to his door and places the bag at the entryway, turning back on his heel. he fiddles with his gloves as he grows closer and closer to the door. and then, he sees you.

bucky can’t see much-- the door is only cracked. but what he can see almost makes him laugh. you’re huddled over what he assumes is a cat tower. well, a sorry excuse for a cat tower, really-- it’s half put together with miscellaneous pieces strewn all around you. you seem to be studying the instruction manual, flipping through it before you eventually toss it to the side. “kitty, i don’t know about all of this,” he hears you say.

again, there are multiple options here in terms of what bucky can do. he can leave now, pretend he never saw anything. he can check on you, and then… and then what? he doesn’t know.

he knocks.

bucky takes a step back as you scramble to your feet, pushing your hair back. you open the door and up at the stranger. “hi.” the word is short, and he can tell that you are not in a good mood. “if you’re going to bitch me out about the noise, i’m sorry. i bought a new cat tower for my cat, and it’s a bitch to put together. and i hate building anything, so i’m basically useless.” you suck in a breath and muster a smile. “so, like i said. sorry. i’ll be a better neighbor tomorrow.”

you go to close the door, and he doesn’t know what he’s doing when he blurts-- “wait-- no.” he shakes his head, clears his throat. “no, i wasn’t gonna bitch you out. i was--”

what was he going to say? what was he going to do?

“i was going to say i could help. if you want.” he clears his throat and rubs at his chin with a gloved hand. “i’m alright at putting furniture together.”

you linger in the doorway and look at him. though there are countless people who look at him every day, oftentimes, bucky doesn’t feel like he’s being recognized. sometimes he wonders if he is secretly invisible, drifting through this too-long life as a ghost. but the look you give him is piercing, and the smile that follows makes his heart stop in his chest.

“i’m not gonna turn down someone building this god forsaken thing for me,” you open the door wider. “come on in.”

bucky finishes his handiwork on the cat tower within thirty minutes, but something about you draws him in, and now it has been an hour and a half and he has not tired of your company.

you are very charming. that is the first thing that bucky notices about you. and it’s not just your personality, either. everything in your apartment seems to drip in you. there is no wall that is bare, there are different colored lights twinkling around each window, plants galore. it makes him almost feel embarrassed about the state of his own home. if you can even call it that.

it’s not a home. it’s a place where he fights off his demons and drinks cheap beer and pretends that he is okay, pretends that he is not alone, pretends that he doesn’t need sam or his therapist or anyone else in order to figure out how to live in the present.

but yours. yours is a home.

there’s a pang of jealousy, nestled deep in his heart. he doesn’t care if the thought is unreachable for someone like him, someone who has done the sort of things that he has done-- he wants it.

the thought will never reach the light of day, of course. no, it will stay buried in his belly, churning with the guilt and the anguish and the loneliness, too.

“you good over there?”

“huh?”

bucky looks up to see that you’re looking at him. your head is tilted and your mouth slightly agape, and the look… he can’t quite place it. it’s more confusion and less concern, and in a weird way, he likes that. “yeah. i’m fine.”

he’s confused by the way that the corner of your mouth turns up. “you’re a good liar,” is all that you quip before you push up off the ground, dusting off your leggings. “do you like pizza? i’m starving, and i would cook us something, but i don’t want to subject you to that. my mom says the only thing i should ever make is cereal, and even that’s pushing it. says i use too much milk.”

bucky laughs.

and it shocks him. it takes no thought at all to laugh at your words, your charm, the way that you carry yourself with such easy self deprecating humor. you make him laugh.

you, on the other hand, don’t think anything of it. you raise your eyebrows at him. “well? it’s pizza or we’re eating two big bowls of honey nut cheerios.”

“pizza is good.”

you bite down on your lip and you nod, fishing your phone from your back pocket. “great.”

bucky studies you as you order the food.

he’s learning that there are many things that he envies you for.

every muscle in your body is loose and relaxed. you don’t walk, you seem to float-- drifting in and out of rooms, brushing past him, as if you’re made up of nothing but air and stardust. you joke with the employee on the other line and then you hang up and look back to him. “i said we’d go and pick it up. it’s my favorite place, just down the street.”

“yeah, that sounds nice.”

bucky follows your lead. he’d never taken off his jacket, or his gloves, but you hadn’t made a comment about them. you scramble into clothing suitable for a new york winter and then grin at him, face slightly obscured by the massive scarf. “ready?”

he nods, and then you set out. you’re quiet for a few moments, before you say, “you’re bucky, right?”

there’s a silence that settles between you, as if some jig is now up. you glance over at him. “that’s not a bad thing,” you say softly. “or an insult.”

“yeah, i know.” his elbow knocks against yours lightly. “but, yeah. i am.”

you nod and offer your own name in return, and that is that. you don’t allude to anything else that you might or might not about him, his past, or the fact that he was used as a hydra weapon for a majority of his life, now thrust into a brand new century. no, all you do is say, “bucky’s a nice name.”

“thanks, doll.”

the pet name rolls off of his tongue so easily, like breathing. he stops for a moment, leaning into the urge to be embarrassed, but you don’t let him. “no one’s ever called me that before,” you say, brushing against his arm. “i like it.”

“it’s what all the guys used to call their girls.” he stops. “not that, you know--”

“yeah, i know,” you laugh. “i know what you meant.” you glance up at him again. “like i said, i like it.”

bucky swallows his nervousness and instead comes reassurance at your words. “i can keep callin’ you doll, if you really like it that much.”

playfulness. ease. comfort. things he has not felt in so long-- yori has tried to pull them out of him when it comes to women, but it has always felt forced, too fast, not right. this feels right.

“you make it sound like it’s such a chore!” you gape at him, but your voice is not malicious in the slightest. you are holding james buchanan barnes in the palm of your hand and you do not even know it.

“it’s not a chore,” bucky reassures. “trust me.”

“whatever you say,” you point to a small hole in the wall shop. “this is it.”

bucky holds the door open for you and you smile and wink as a thank you and god it sends his mind spinning, intoxicated by even the look that you give him. your name is performed like a symphony by every employee in the shop-- they all grin and wave, some make small talk. they eye bucky who stands a step behind you. but you turn and you place a hand on his forearm and even through all of the layers he swears that your touch burns. “this is my neighbor--” you look to him.

bucky clears his throats and he musters a smile, somewhere between his normal grimace and the smile that only seems to form in your presence. “james.”

they greet bucky with kindness and send the both of you on your way with the large pizza and a free liter of diet coke. “her favorite,” the owner says pointedly, winking to you. “we’re always trying to tell her to stop. maybe you can get her to knock the habit.”

“i don’t think anyone can get me to stop drinking diet coke,” you joke, looking at bucky with a level of fondness. “but he can certainly try.”

“i’ll give it a valiant effort,” bucky says and he tips his head to everyone before he opens the door for you once more. he holds the pizza and you hold the soda, tucked beneath your arm, and you make the trek back to your apartment in comforting quiet.

bucky learns that you don’t have a dining room table. you call it a waste of space, so you two sit in front of your coffee table on floor pillows, eating off mismatched plates and drinking the diet coke out of mugs from the thrift store you frequent.

the night is growing quieter, and you think that both you and bucky sense that it is coming to an end. you think you might be a bit addicted to being around him. he reminds you of the smell after it rains and black coffee, of laughter under neon lights and gentleness.

bucky is beginning to gather his things to leave when a meow turns both of your heads. your eyes light up. “hi baby,” you coo and the cat goes right to you and you scoop her up in your arms, presenting her to bucky. “this is katherine. or kitty, as i call her. she’s normally pretty scared of people.”

bucky hesitates, looking between you and the cat. finally, his hand reaches out and scratches kitty beneath the chin. she purrs almost instantly, nuzzling her face into his hand. you watch, somewhere in between shocked and amazed, as bucky interacts with her. “no, i swear, she hates people.” you pause. “wanna hold her?”

“oh, i don’t know…”

you raise your eyebrows and then he looks back at the cat, who gives a yap. it seems to say: please? he huffs and it fades into a smile and he holds his arms out. you set kitty into them and watch as she curls into him, rubbing the top of her head against his chin.

a girlish laugh bubbles from the deep pit of you belly and you clasp your hands together in front of you, watching with hearts in your eyes. the corner of his mouth turns up as he continues to pet the cat.

“bucky,” you say, putting a hand on your hip. “i hate to inform you, she’s never gonna let you go now.”

bucky looks up at you through his lashes. you, with your easy and calm demeanor, your loud laugh and your inability to build even the simplest of furniture.

“i think i’m okay with that.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes series #the world's a little blurry #bucky barnes fanfic

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baroquebucky · 4 years ago

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love

a/n: hi hi !! here is another fic inspired by one of my fave bts songs <33 hope u all enjoy lmk what u think !! pls excuse any typos

bucky was cold and sad before you, now he is warm and happy, most of all, he’s in love

word count: 3k

masterlist

Bucky woke up from another nightmare, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. He let out a shaky breath, looking around his empty apartment. He got up and washed his face, looking at himself in the mirror before tearing his gaze away.

Bucky didn’t sleep for the rest of the night, busying himself until sunrise, when he left his apartment and walked to park nearby.

That’s where he met you.

You were playing fetch with your dog, nearly tumbling over every time he jumped on you to get the ball from your hand, laughing as he would sprint away from you, tongue sticking out.

Bucky smiled at the sight, wishing he had a let of his own. You caught him staring at your dog and smiled, saying a quick ‘hello!’ and calling for you dog to come back.

Bucky returned a smile, the path he was on leading him towards where you stood. Your dog bounded over to you, ball in mouth and dropping it at your feet.

“do you wanna pet him?” You smiled at bucky, your dog staring at him wearily as he stopped near you.

“uh- he doesn’t seem like a fan” Bucky chuckled and you shook your head, scratching behind your dogs ear.

“he’s just protective, his name is ace” you smiled, walking towards Bucky slowly, ace following suit and sniffing at Bucky’s boots.

Ace warmed up to bucky quickly, sitting at his feet and waiting for his payment of pats. Bucky smiled, crouching down to pet him, the dogs soft fur against his hand made him smile.

You smiled at the interaction, thinking of what to say next, you knew this was the Bucky Barnes and you didn’t want to embarrass yourself.

“I’m y/n” you spoke as Bucky got back up, putting his gloves back on quickly. He turned to face you, a charming smile on his face.

“I’m Bucky” he replied, blushing as he finally saw your face, and wow were you breathtaking.

Your eyes met and you both blushed, you struggled to find words to keep the conversation going, not wanting him to leave so soon.

Is this love?

“why are you up so early” you asked, throwing the ball so ace could chase after it, still full of energy.

He paused for a moment before answering, “just an early bird” he smiled, you nodded. “what about you?” he asked, standing next to you as ace came back, dropping the ball at his feet this time.

“i have to tire him out before i go to work, so i gotta wake up early” you smiled, yawning not long after. You blushed and mumbled a quick ‘sorry’ and Bucky smiled at you.

Ace pranced back, no longer wanting to run around and play, only wanted to get back to his cozy bed and lounge for the rest of the day.

“we should get going, this guy makes me carry him to the car and up the stairs if he’s too tired” you laughed, bucky smiled and said goodbye, giving ace a few final pats before saying goodbye to him too.

Sometimes i know, sometimes i don’t

Bucky thought about you and your four legged friend for the rest of the day, wondering if you had always been there when he went for walks, was he too caught up in his own mind to even realize?

Bucky felt the day go by fast, feeling lighter than he had been the day before, talking to his neighbors a bit more and feeling tired by the time the clock hit 12 am rather than the usual 3 am.

He woke up early the next day, another nightmare shaking him awake, checking the clock it read 5:54 am, the sun barely about to rise.

He got up, changing and washing his face, brushing his teeth and heading out the door in 30 minutes.

The sun was up as he walked to the park, keeping an eye out for you, and sure enough there you were, this time throwing a frisbee to entertain ace. You looked exhausted and bucky felt a pang in his chest, how long did you sleep?

Your gaze me Buckys and you smiled brightly, perking up a bit as he walked closer.

“good morning bucky!” You smiled, ace running towards him, his frisbee in his mouth as he jumped to greet the super soldier.

“good morning y/n, and good morning ace!” He smiled, putting on a higher pitched voice for the dog who wagged his tail happily, hitting the mans leg with the frisbee.

Bucky took the frisbee, throwing it so ace could chase after it, you both smiled at your dog, running as fast as he could to catch the disk.

“how’d you sleep?” You asked, noticing the bags under his eyes, he shrugged.

“as well as i usually do. You?” He asked, trying to mask his concern.

“it was okay, wish i could’ve gotten more though” you smiled rubbing your burning eyes before throwing the frisbee once more.

Bucky nodded in agreement, the two of you making small talk until you and ace left once again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You asked, putting a leash on ace and walking with Bucky towards your car. Bucky smiled brightly, nodding his head.

“yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow” he replied, already looking forward to it.

You are the one who will give meaning to my memories

For two weeks you and bucky met up and played with ace at the park during early mornings, sometimes walking around the park and talking about your days and what you had to do. Neither one of you prying too much, just enjoying each other’s company.

Bucky reminisced on the memories with a fond smile as he told Steve about you.

“no yeah she’s great, her dog is really cute too” bucky spoke, giddy to see you on Monday.

“why don’t you ask her out then?” Steve questioned and bucky shook his head, not knowing how he would even approach the situation.

The following Monday you greeted bucky with a smile, ace bounding over to him in excitement.

As the two of you fell into routine, Steve’s words rung in his ears, deciding to take a leap of faith.

“would you- do you maybe wanna get dinner someday? together?” Bucky asked, a charming smile on his face as ace wagged his tail, looking up at you, almost as if saying ‘do it! say yes!’

“uh- yeah I’d love that” you smiled at bucky, both of you relieved that the you weren’t alone in wanting more time together.

Before i knew you my heart was filled with straight lines

Bucky was excited for your first date, putting on his best clothes and getting some flowers for you on the way, knocking on your door and heading aces familiar bark.

You opened the door, wearing a nice and casual outfit, letting Bucky in and thanking him for the flowers.

“I’m gonna just put these in water, feel free to sit down” you smiled, hurrying around to finish as quick as possible.

Bucky nodded, taking a seat on your couch and looking around, your home was so, homey. Ace smiling proudly as Bucky pet him.

“okay shall we?” You laughed and bucky smiled, saying goodbye to ace as you closed the door and headed out. Bucky offered you his arm and you gladly took it, walking down the stairs with your arms linked.

“ace makes you carry him all the way up these?” He asked in shock and you nodded, letting out a small chuckle.

“don’t let him fool you he is very evil” you teased, Bucky widened his eyes and nodded his head.

“note to self, never get on aces bad side” he smiled as you laughed, continuing to make easy conversation for the rest of the night.

Bucky found himself being nicer to Sam and the rest of the team, hanging out with them more and even cracking jokes.

“you don’t stare anymore” sam spoke, a smile on his face as steve turned to look at bucky.

“Hm, he doesn’t” steve smirked and bucky rolled his eyes.

“got tired of looking at your face is all” he snickered, making the two other men laugh, bucky took a sip from his beer.

“he’s seeing a girl y’know” steve whispered and bucky groaned as Sam cheered. Bucky couldn’t help but smile as he thought of you. It had only been a week since your first date and he already wanted to take you out again, despite having seen you this morning.

I’d like to be in your novel as a lover

Time passed and you and bucky got closer, going on more dates and texting each other during the day, even calling each other when one of you couldn’t sleep.

Bucky told you about his nightmares, telling you how he would always wake up, too afraid to go back to sleep so he would wait until sunrise and go for a walk.

You told him how you had trouble sleeping, sometimes your mind would just never stop, other times you just had too much work.

Within two months bucky has asked you out, a bouquet of roses for you and treats for ace, he has set up a picnic for you during the sunset, getting your favorite foods and talking the entire evening, finally asking you out when the moon had risen.

I’m just a human, you erode all my edges and turn me into love

You made bucky a better person, teaching him his self worth and to be proud of who he was.

“Bucky wake up, angel it’s just a nightmare” you shook him gently, ace watching from the foot of the bed.

Bucky shot up quickly, breathing heavily as you placed a hand on his back, pulling him into you after he has calmed down.

“you’re here, you’re with me you’re okay” you assured him, wrapping him in your arms and holding him tightly.

“it was bad, i was bad” he mumbled, tears falling down his face.

“you aren’t him. you are good, you are human baby, you’re my love” he squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on your steady heartbeat as you ran your fingers through his hair, his arm draping over your stomach as he slowly fell back to sleep.

Buckys nightmares became more scarce, he became happier and less cold, embracing who he was.

He was also helplessly in love with you, constantly buying you flowers, taking you out on dates, taking care of you when he could, writing you letters, and so much more.

You make live to a love

After coming into his life you made bucky a better person, you made him into the person he always wanted to be.

Bucky no longer walked with his head down, rather he walked with a set gaze, giving a kind smile to strangers on the street and helping those in need, helping the others his friends when they needed him and even volunteering at the local animal shelter when he could.

Because of you i know why a person should live by love

Before you bucky would punch his way out of all his fights, he would be hot headed and angry if he got into an argument with someone on the team.

Now he was understanding and patient, listening to what the other had to say and looking to reason with them, taking time to communicate. Bucky was sympathetic, not wanting to fight every villain they came across, instead trying to reason with them. Between him and Sam, usually they didn’t even have to fight.

I live so i love

“angel? I’m home!” You called out, ace greeting you at the door, smiling at the freshly cooked dinner on the dining table, it was your favorite.

“Happy one year doll” Bucky smiled as you turned around, hugging him tightly and kissing him all over his face.

“buck i don’t know what to say” you smiled, still in awe of all he had done.

“don’t say anything, just go get changed and let’s enjoy our night yeah?” He replied, kissing you once more before letting you go.

You were thankful he opted for a night in, exhausted from work and wanting only to be in your lovers arms. And you did exactly that, spending the night dancing in your living room, laughing at his bad jokes and sharing stories.

“okay best pick up line go” you smiled, excited to see what he would say.

“not really a pick up line but” Bucky paused, looking you in the eyes. “It’s a long way from I to U, fuck JKLMNOPQRST, i crossed all the letters and i reached you” he smirked, loving the way your heart raced at his words.

“now i know why you were such a ladies man in the 40s” you whispered, crashing his lips onto yours.

If i go would you be sad?

“God james cant you just shut up and listen to me for one second!” You stated, voice raising out of frustration.

“well maybe if you could get it through your stubborn head that it wasn’t my fault maybe I’d stop having to explain” Bucky spoke angry, his voice steady as he clenched his jaw.

You were upset he had kept you in the dark about an ongoing mission, he was upset you didn’t realize he had done it to keep you safe.

“you keep saying you did it to keep me safe, James i was almost killed because i didn’t know! How is that keeping me safe?” You spoke, anger boiling over as you sat on the couch, wanting to just sleep.

“if i had told you, you would have never let me be as protective as i have been! You wouldn’t have taken your vacation days because you’re too stubborn” Bucky spoke, still standing across from you.

“I just need some time to think” you spoke softly, Bucky’s heart fell. We’re you gonna leave him?

“I’ll go” Bucky mumbled, already moving to pack a bag.

“bucky stop” you spoke, making him stop in his tracks. “sit down i don’t want you to leave, let’s talk about it angel” you sighed, wanting to just work it out and be in his arms once more.

You’re my love

Bucky was excited, everything had been planned perfectly. He had woken up at 4 am, getting everything ready for the following morning.

He had driven to the park with Sam and Steve who helped him set up the picnic, a blanket laid out with fruits and drinks along with dog toys to play with ace.

It had been nearly 4 years since the two of you had met, he knew you were the one for him.

As the sun rose you woke up, getting ready to take ace out with Bucky, only to find the two of them gone.

Just as you finished getting ready bucky walked in, a smile on his face.

“goodmorning doll, let’s get going yeah? already got ace in the car” he smiled and you thanked him, heading out the door and to the park.

when you arrived you immediately saw the picnic.

“buck what-” you began and he cut you off.

“just because” he smiled and you smiled, sure he always took you on dates but this was different, it felt more intimate.

As the two of you sat on the blanket and munched on food ace ate some treats bucky had gotten him, excited to play in a couple of minutes.

“I taught him a new trick” Bucky smiled and you raised your eyebrows, sitting up straighter to see ace perform said trick.

“let’s see what you got Barnes” you smirked and he smiled.

“ace go fetch!” Bucky spoke, ace ran from the blanket in a straight line.

“haha bucky, we both know he already knew that, plus you didn’t even throw-” you cut yourself off as you saw ace pick something up, running back towards the two of you. Bucky stood up, offering you a hand so you could get up.

“y/n, i love you, you taught me what love is, you made me into a better person, from the moment we met i always felt like we were meant to be.” Bucky spoke, glancing over to see ace closer to the two of you, a little over halfway back.

“you’re my person, my desire, my pride, my one and only love” Bucky spoke, crouching down and taking the small box from aces mouth, letting him and giving him more treats.

Bucky got on one knee, opening the box and looking at you with bright eyes. Your vision was blurry, but unlike four years ago, it wasn’t from sleep, but from tears.

“y/n, doll, will you marry me?”

You nodded your head quickly, wiping away your tears and smiling brightly.

“yes, of course yes angel” you replied, wrapping your arms around him as he picking you up and spun you around, setting you down and kiss you, making your knees weak.

He slipped the ring on your finger with a smile, ace barking as the two of you kissed once more, pulling away with a smile.

“that has to be his best trick” you joked, petting ace and kissing the top of his head.

“now i gotta train him to be the ring bearer for the wedding” Bucky laughed and you nodded, squinting your eyes as you saw Sam and Steve running in the distance.

“is that-?” You questioned and bucky laughed, the two men cheering as they saw you and bucky cuddled up.

“she said yes!” Bucky called out and the two men cheered, arriving out of breath.

“thank god, he woke us up at like 3 am to get everything ready” sam spoke and Steve nodded, giving the two of you a hug, Sam quickly following suit.

“I’m happy for you guys” Sam spoke, Steve nodding along side him, squeezing Buckys arm before they left the two of you alone.

You smiled as you looked up at the sky, pinks and reds painting the clouds. You turned to tell bucky, but decided against it when you saw him on the floor playing with ace, voice high pitched as he baby talked him.

Your heart melted, you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of you life with your two favorite boys.

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