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k-evans-reads · 3 years ago

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On Deck

Chapter 19

Summary: Although they grew up in the same small town, Chris and Sam had both gone their separate ways a long time ago. Chris moved up to become a MLB star, one of the best in the business, while Sam stayed stuck in the same small town. But when multiple injuries ended the Red Sox prodigy’s career, he winds up back in the same small town he swore he’d never be back to. The past may not stay in the past any longer, as old wounds begin to creep back up.

Pairing: MLB!Chris Evans X OFC Samantha “Sam” Merrick

Word Count: 4,278

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: None!

Previous | Main Masterlist | On Deck Masterlist

Sam could hear the echo of door opening, making her eyes peel away from the laptop screen where the professor was teaching. She saw Chris’ broad frame come walking in with Dodger at his side as he tossed off his Red Sox’s hat and opened his mouth to greet her. Not wanting to interrupt the class, she wildly waved her hand back and forth to get his attention before pointing to the laptop, silently explaining she was still in her class, making Chris give her a comical grimace and mouthed ‘Sorry’ before quietly moving to the bedroom with Dodger right on his heels.

She turned her attention back to the screen, picking up her pen and jotting down some last-minute notes before the professor wrapped up the class for the day. It’d been a week filled with nerves and anxiety for Sam’s first classes in nearly ten years. She was exhausted already and it was only Wednesday, but the fact that she and Chris had spent nearly all their spare time touring what felt like every home for sale in their area certainly hadn’t helped.

As soon as the virtual class session ended and her webcam turned off, she slumped back against the leather barstool with relief, rubbing at the growing pain in her temples. As she stared at the smooth white ceiling of the kitchen, she realized there was only one thing that she wanted and it was currently in the other room. Sammy pushed herself off of the stool, closing her laptop, and then trudged towards the bedroom where she found Chris laying sideways on the bed, his sock-covered feet crossed and one arm behind his head while the other held his phone as he watched a replay from the baseball game earlier that day.

She gave Dodger’s head a quick pat before walking in farther to the room, getting Chris’ attention as he asked, “How was the math class, baby?” All Sam could do was groan, causing Chris to laugh before she kept scuffing over to the bed, crawling on it to be able to flop down on top of his warm body. Immediately his arms came around her, holding her tight while kissing her forehead.

“That bad, huh?”

“I swear they’ve changed math since we were in school.”

“Well I wasn’t even very good at it then,” he murmured, his chest rumbling as he chuckled. “Hey, I’m so proud of you though, baby.”

She let out a small huff, turning his head against his chest as she reminded him, “Chris, you’ve said that every single day this week.”

“And I’m going to keep saying it because I am,” he replied easily, his head tilting down to meet her shifting gaze. “I just fuckin’ love you.”

“I know,” she smiled, her hand moving to run through his messy hair. “I love you too… so much.”

He grinned back, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Well today might have been a hard day but I’ve got a little present for you,” he drawled, an excited look settling on his face.

Sam rolled her eyes back, thinking about everything from the expensive purchases he made for her – and for Riley – to the everyday generosity he showed. “Your ‘little’ presents are never little,” she muttered knowingly.

“Do you want it or not, smartass?”

“Fine, what is it?”

Sam could see him digging in the pocket of his joggers before fishing out something that was, in fact, small inside his hand. She couldn’t quite make out what it was until he held it up, showing a shiny silver key sparkling in the light. Her eyes grew wide as she saw the key, knowing exactly what it was for, but her mind almost wouldn’t let her believe it.

“The house?!” She asked quickly, her voice high and shockingly loud for how exhausted she felt. “We got it?!”

“Yep. It’s all ours, baby,” he grinned, pressing a kiss to her lips when she silently asked for one.

Her eyes darted down to the single key still in his hand, her mind racing with things she wanted to do. “Can we go see it?” She asked.

His head flew back against the mattress, his hand squeezing Sam’s hip as he roared with laughter. She smiled as she felt the vibration of his chest against her own. “Why do you think I left my shoes by the door?”

Sam was off the bed and running to grab her own shoes and jacket in the blink of an eye, practically vibrating with excitement as they went down to climb in the car. She could hardly believe as they drove out of the small town toward the ocean that they were going to their house. Sam pulled out her phone, sending a quick text to Riley to let him know where they were in case he got home from his shift at the movie theater before them, then just relaxed in the passenger seat trying to figure out if this truly was happening.

They arrived at the sprawling Cape Cod style home, one that Sam had loved the moment she saw it. It had always been a fantasy of hers to own a home, a fantasy that she never thought would come true, but the fact that this home – this 1700s home – was theirs was not only a huge accomplishment in Sam’s eyes, but a relief. Here… there were no neighbors even within earshot, thanks to their several acres. There were no landlords threatening them with eviction weekly. It was quiet. It was peaceful. It was theirs. And it was home.

Sam didn’t even realize that she was running to the front door until she heard Chris’ loud laugh echoing a long way behind her once they had parked in the winding driveway but she couldn’t help it. Getting to open the door and step inside the place she’d be coming home to everyday was enough to bring tears to her eyes. They took their time walking through the bottom floor wordlessly as they soaked it all in, but Sam got a moment alone with her emotions when Chris left to go get the champagne the realtor had left them chilling on the counter.

She could hear the pop of the cork faintly as she wandered out to the back patio, her eyes soaking in the expansive yard that she could already picture Dodger running through and the peaceful little pond nearby that she already couldn’t wait to see frozen over in the winter. There were absolutely no words that could describe the feeling of peace and happiness that came from the inside out but what she didn’t know was that the tears that were streaming down her face matched the ones that were coming out of Chris’ blue eyes only a few feet behind her.

He had walked up so quietly that she hadn’t heard him and Chris took the opportunity to just watch her. With two glasses of champagne in his hand and silent tears falling down his cheeks and getting lost in his beard, he just stood there watching his Sammy looking at their new home. Chris thought back to so so many years ago, remembering sitting out on his mother’s back porch with Sam when they were kids and wished there was some way to go back in time and tell his younger self that one day he’d be here with her.

Chris had loved Sammy for just about as long as he could remember, even if it wasn’t always at the forefront of his mind, it was always there. But now that he actually had her, got to love her, and be with her for every high and low that life brought, he knew that there was no way he could possibly even imagine being without her. He wasn’t kidding when he said he planned on marrying her but after her more recent vocalization of wanting that same thing, he knew that he was going to make it happen because more than anything, there was nothing in his life that he wanted to have if it wasn’t with her.

He set down the champagne on the nearby table before walking up behind her, snaking his arms around her waist while resting his chin on her shoulder and quietly asked, “Are you happy, baby?”

“I just can’t believe this,” Sammy breathed, leaning her cheek against his, “I don’t know how to get my brain to understand that this is our house.”

“This is our home,” he corrected, turning his face to kiss her cheek softly.

Chris could practically see the wheels in her head turning, so many emotions passing over her face as her voice crackled, “...I’ve never really felt like I had a home before.”

“Well you do now.”

“I feel so frivolous having a house this big though,” Sam admitted while her eyes took in the expansive beautiful land that now was theirs, the rolling hills overlooking the pond at the edge of their property.

“Are you kidding? Riley’s going to have his shit spread out everywhere in no time,” Chris laughed, trying to lighten the mood but also knowing just how true the words were from how often they were finding his backpack, shoes, or other belongings spread out.

“I know, but there’s five bedrooms…” She trailed off while reaching a hand up to run through her thick hair before anxiously looking around. “And with us not planning on kids, maybe it’s too big.”

“Hey, I want you to look at me,” Chris’ voice was gentle as he lifted a hand to rest on her cheek and gently turned her face to his, seeing the deep emotions in her eyes and reminded her, “You’ve spent your whole life giving up nearly everything. Let me give this to you. This one thing that you want. I want us to have a home together, because the only thing that I want in life is you.”

Her wide brown eyes searched his own ocean blue eyes, silent for several moments until she nodded, her voice wavering slightly as she breathed, “...I love you Chris.”

“I love you too, Sammy,” he spoke with so much truth and confidence, shrugging as he went on, “And besides, we never said having kids was a hard no, right? Who knows what will happen in 10 years.”

“Well I know one thing, in ten years I’m still going to be right here because there’s no way I’m leaving that heated swimming pool,” Chris loved seeing that familiar sparkle in her eyes as she snickered and motioned toward the beautiful pool.

“If I would have known that having a heated swimming pool was going to be all it took to keep you around I would have had one installed in my fuckin’ living room,” he muttered playfully, smiling widely as Sam laughed with him.

They explored the house, Chris watching Sam think more than he looked around himself. He watched as she excitedly mentioned things that might work in certain spaces – like finally getting the piano he’d been eyeing for weeks, noting that one side of the living room would be perfect for it. He watched her eyes linger in the kitchen on the marble countertops as she ghosted a hand over them, knowing she still couldn’t believe this was her reality. They poked their heads into the large den off the kitchen, sharing excited grins just as Riley texted them that he was leaving work. Quickly, they called Riley, asking him to pick up a pizza and come over to the new house, excited for him to see it as well. Once the pizza and sodas were ordered and he had easily agreed to the plan, they quickly made their way back to the wing of the home with their bedroom, a wing that the previous owners had added to the home in the past few years.

Passing through the bedroom quickly, they climbed the staircase between their room and the garage, finding themselves in what they’d quickly decided would be Sam’s office. It was separated enough from the rest of the home to give her the privacy and quiet she needed for school, while also being close enough that she wasn’t far removed from everyone else.

Just as Sam turned to say something to Chris, his phone began vibrating in his pocket. Giving her an apologetic look, he reached for it, his brow furrowing as he saw the name. “Hey are you almost here? I’m starving,” he asked Riley, able to tell Riley was on speakerphone in the car still.

“I’m here but I don’t think you sent me the right address,” the boy told Chris, his voice tentative and a bit hesitant. Chris furrowed his brow as he knew he sent the right address, but as he made his way over to the windows overlooking the winding driveway, he was relieved as he watched Riley pull in behind Chris’ own car in Sam’s old green sedan.

“It’s the right place, I see your car,” Chris reassured him, smirking to himself as he listened to Sam snort as he waited for Riley’s response.

“YOU BOUGHT THIS?!” The teenager nearly yelled, Chris pulling the phone away from his ear with a wince. “This is a fuckin’ mansion!”

“Well get inside and come see your room,” Chris replied just before he hung up the call, following a giggling Sam down the stairs and outside through the porch to the driveway. He smiled fondly as Sam and Riley hugged each other tightly, able to practically see the weight of this moment, what it meant to them both. He was touched when the teenager hugged Chris tightly before following his sister towards the front door, leaving Chris to grab the pizza out of the still unlocked car.

Once they were inside, both Sam and Chris’ eyes were locked on Riley’s frame, watching as the teenager excitedly looked in every room of the downstairs, opening doors to look inside bathrooms, closets, Chris’ small office, and the laundry room. He had practically the same reaction – except a bit less restrained – to Sam when he saw the kitchen and the primary suite, but when he turned to Chris and Sam back up in Sam’s office, his face looked like a kid on Christmas when he asked them, “Are we seriously going to live here?”

Chris rolled his eyes fondy as that fond sideways grin slid back on his face, “No we just bought it to look at,” he sarcastically replied.

“After that smartass remark maybe I don’t want to live here,” Riley muttered, laughing when Chris shoved him playfully.

“Will both of you idiots just shut up and let me have my moment?” Sam’s voice interrupted them, their light bickering stopping instantly. “I’ve never owned a house before and I want to enjoy it!”

Her younger brother nodded, straightening up noticeably as he looked around the empty room, at the windows with a view of the pond and the sprawling land, complete with the small guesthouse and heated pool in the distance. Chris had a feeling Sam would put whatever desk she chose right in front of those windows, knowing she’d want to look at that view as much as possible. “What is this room going to be?” Riley asked, interrupting Chris’ thoughts.

“Sammy’s office,” Chris informed him with a grin. “I told our realtor that anywhere we looked at needed to have a spot for Sam, so she’d have an office for her school work and everything.”

But out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Sam cross her arms over her chest as she rolled her eyes and drawled, “Yeah because with a five bedroom house, the one thing we needed on top of that is an office…”

“Well now who’s being the smartass?” Chris smirked as he turned to look at her, shooting her a wink as she gave him a look.

At Chris’ wink, Riley groaned, asking them, “Can we have our pizza before you two start making out?”

They easily agreed, climbing the stairs to head back to where they’d left the pizza in the kitchen. But Sam soon broke the silence, curiously asking her brother, “Why do you think Chris calling me a smartass means we’ll make out?”

The teenager shrugged, muttering, “Because you two are gross, that’s why.”

She laughed, turning her head to shoot Chris a small smirk at those words before she replied, “Well I’m not so sure you can say that the spot for my office was the selling point, I’m pretty sure that had something to do with the golf course right down the road.”

“I mean… that didn’t hurt.”

They reached the kitchen, grabbing the paper plates from the bag on top of the pizza box before Riley headed to sit down on the herringbone floors as Sam and Chris poured themselves more champagne in the kitchen.

Chris glanced over at Sam, watching her move throughout their new kitchen, warmth filling him at that realization. “So you really like it, baby?” He asked her quietly, smiling softly as they met each other’s eyes.

She smiled back, genuine emotion filling her expression. She hesitated several times before she spoke, enough that Chris began to needlessly worry whether something was wrong. But his question was answered when her voice, laden with emotion, replied, “I couldn’t love it more.”

“We’re going to be really happy here together, Sammy,” he told her, moving to rub his hands over her arms as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, unable to not imagine them growing old together there, with Dodger, Riley, his niece and nephews, his siblings, and his parents all frequent visitors there. They’d host holidays here, have Christmas dinners in the dining room behind them, open gifts on Christmas morning – in just a few short months – in the den where Riley was now. They’d drive back here at the end of every baseball season, escaping the chaos of the previous seven months to relax in the peace and quiet, undisturbed for days. It’d be the home where Sam earned her degree, and maybe even more, and getting to see his girl reach her full potential, uninhibited by economic barriers was something that made Chris more emotional than anything. The entire home represented them, it was a culmination of the last nearly twenty-three years since they’d met each other thanks to Shanna and Sam’s friendship. And he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“We already are happy together,” Sam corrected him, her voice heavy as it broke him out of his thoughts.

“Got that right, baby,” he smirked, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her lips before he blinked the tears away from his eyes and followed her into the den, pizza and champagne in hands.

Riley shook his head as he watched the replay on the restaurant’s TVs, disappointment filling his face. He munched on a fry before he dropped it, commenting to Chris, “They shouldn’t run the ball.”

“I know, they never do,” Chris agreed easily, his leg tapping against the hightop barstool. His eyes stayed locked on the teenager next to him, looking as he eagerly watched the Patriots game.

The boy moved to reach for his milkshake, pausing right before he took a sip and offering, “You want any of this milkshake?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Chris shook his head before he cleared his throat, sitting up in his seat slightly. Riley nodded, taking a long sip of the milkshake, and his eyes stayed locked distractedly on the oversized televisions. “But there was something I wanted to talk to you about, bud.”

He nodded slightly, barely reacting as he answered, “Uh huh.”

Chris watched the teenager, seeing how distracted he was. He gave him a moment before he prodded further, telling him, “Riley, it’s serious.”

Riley’s brows furrowed as he turned to look at Chris. “Is something going on?” He asked him quietly, a deep frown on his face.

Chris cleared his throat, his face flushing as he stammered, “No, I mean, well hopefully yes,” and shrugged half-heartedly.

Riley’s concern only deepened, his voice tense and insistent as he pleaded, “Can you just tell me already?”

“You sound just like Sammy,” Chris smiled fondly, his eyes darting down to his lap momentarily before he cleared his throat, taking a deep breath. “And that’s what I want to talk about… I’m planning on asking Sam to marry me sometime soon.”

He watched Riley anxiously, feeling incredibly sick as he confessed what he’d been planning for a while now to someone finally. And while he’d always planned to share the idea with Riley – and likely at least Scott – prior to the actual event, it didn’t mean that putting it into words didn’t terrify him even more, worried that Riley would react poorly. But he was confused when the teenager simply paused, looking down at the half-eaten burger and fries on his plate, whispering, “Oh,” before he reached for his milkshake again.

“Just oh?” Chris asked him quietly, frowning slightly. “Is that a good oh, or a bad oh?”

He shrugged his shoulders, his lips pursed as he admitted, “Good.”

“Riley, I seriously want to hear your feelings about it. There’s a reason I’m talking to you first before asking Sammy,” Chris prodded openly, trying to get the teen to open up. It’d been a long effort of his and Sam’s to be more open not only with each other, but with Riley as well. The teen had been so used to living practically alone between his mother and Sam’s long work days, and the multitude of changes that Chris brought on when he stepped into their lives provided more stability, which also brought slightly uncomfortable conversations where they pushed each other to speak their minds and their emotions, despite how uncomfortable it may be.

Riley shrugged again and the action hurt Chris more than he expected, but the words that followed only hurt more as he mumbled, “Well what you guys do isn’t really up to me.”

“But it matters what you think, Riley,” Chris pushed back, wanting Riley to know how much not only Sam, but Chris as well, valued him and everything he thought about, felt, or even hated. They wanted to know everything he was willing to share and more. “You know how much Sam loves you and would never do anything that would hurt you, and neither would I.”

“I know,” Riley whispered, swallowing nervously as he shifted in the seat.

“If we get married, things are going to change, it’s just how it works, but I want to make sure you’re okay with it. I know it’s been a lot,” Chris began, his voice trailing off slightly as he saw Riley meet his eyes.

The teen nodded, keeping eye contact with Chris. “It’s just weird that a year ago it was basically just me and Sam in our apartment and now things are just so different,” he admitted finally.

“I know how much change you’ve gone through Riley, and I’m sorry that it hasn’t always been easy. I’m sorry that you and Sam haven’t always had it easy,” Chris apologized, meaning every word. He watched sadly as Riley broke away from his eyes to look at his lap, knowing how uncomfortable he must feel. “I just love your sister, Riley. I love her more than anything and I want to be with her and I want to keep being there for you because I love you too.”

His eyes were wide and emotional as he looked back up at Chris, quietly confessing, “...I love you too Chris.”

And although he didn’t verbalize it, Chris could see in the teenager’s eyes just how much he meant it. Chris had come to see how much Riley was like Sam in the fact that he stuffed so many of his own feelings, partly out of necessity, but then struggled to be vulnerable and open. He’d seen him slowly start to change a little, but with him being a teenager caused him to have even more trouble sharing than Sam could. But in that moment, Chris could see all the feelings in his eyes, and knew how much Riley meant what he said.

Being the tactile person that he was, Chris couldn’t help himself and threw an arm around Riley’s shoulders to give him a side hug and smiled from ear to ear when Riley hugged him right back before saying, “If you want to ask Sam to marry you, I’m fine with that.”

“I want you to be more than fine with it, Riley. I want it to be a good thing for everyone,” Chris told him, knowing that if Riley was the slightest bit uncomfortable or not okay with anything, he’d do anything to help him, even if it meant putting off proposing.

“...It is,” Riley finally said, giving him a small grin. “I know how much you love Sam… even if I wish you weren’t so obvious about it in front of me.”

Chris smiled widely, a lump in his throat and his eyes burning as the restaurant roared as the Patriots scored a touchdown. Riley’s eyes moved to the TVs, his jaw dropping as he watched the replay of the play happily. And while Chris watched Riley carefully, slightly envying the way Riley easily handled the intense conversation and shifted back to happily drinking his milkshake and enjoying the game, he knew he wouldn’t trade the emotional weight of the moment he felt so intensely for anything in the world.

A/N: We freaking LOVED this chapter and seriously were so emotional. PLEASE share all your thoughts!

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nobleclover · 2 years ago

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All Thumbs

Since her experiences with the Other Mother many years ago, Coraline had decided to write a children's book about it when she left school. It shouldn't be too hard, she thought, I could use Dad's old computer and work away at it.

So far, she had three chapters written up and was halfway through the fourth. One day while she was working, Wybie, who she started dating since tenth grade, was over for a visit. Needless to say, this writing session was rather frustrating Given that the computer had been in her dad's possession for nearly ten years, it was prone to various technological hiccups. This particular day, the computer was having one of those days where it would stop then restart randomly. Coraline was flipping out and yelling, "Aaahhhh, just work, you dinosaur!" "Work before I kick your hard drive!" among other various corny insults, much to Wybie's amusement.

He couldn't help but chuckle at Coraline getting comically frustrated, which prompted her to glare at him with a frustrated pout on her face. Being the composed young man he was, he stopped and sheepishly apologised, "S-sorry, sorry, you know...maybe it'd be best to buy a memory stick and use your mom's laptop."

"I could but she's using it for work. Probably might work on it in an internet café at this point," she grumbled, "I just hope it's good enough..."

He walked over and put his hand on her shoulder reassuringly, telling her, "Well, I expect that all writers had it rough the first time around. I mean, I did hear that Stephen King considered dumping Carrie in the trash before his wife convinced him to keep working on it. Just go easy on yourself and have fun writing it, Jonesy."

She smiled at him and planted a loving kiss on his cheek before pulling him in for a hug. He always knew what to say to cheer her up.

#coraline #coraline x wybie #my writing #oneshot #my otp #cute #adorable #funny #writing prompt

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ashintheairlikesnow · 2 years ago

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Okay but going off of the last Taron and Jameson ask/writing, what if Tee were to accidentally fall asleep 👀👀👀 and not wake up until it was time to open the restaurant up again? What should Jameson do then? 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

(In the AU where @for-the-love-of-angst's Taron befriends a skittish, nervous Jameson who never made it to Nat's and has been living on the streets. Directly follows this little microfic)

Taron groans as he wakes. All the old aches always hit hardest after he sleeps, when he does sleep. Scars protest as he stretches arms over his head. His back sends a zing of pain and he grunts. The bed beneath him feels oddly solid, and Zizi's warmth against his side seems off, too.

Sun streams in through the slits of the blinds over the restaurant's windows.

Wait.

He freezes, coming fully awake all at once, and looks to the side, blinking the last of sleep from bleary eyes. His laptop is still set up, long since shifted to black from the menu screen that must have given up sooner or later. Plates lay on the floor with a couple unfinished crusts, criss-crossed. X marks the spot, he thinks, and wonders where the hell that came from.

He pushes himself up on his elbows, trying to force his tired mind to function. The warm body against him mumbles something soft and loving, throwing an arm over his waist.

"... Stay," The raspy, whispering voice that belongs to the body whispers. "C'mon. Call in sick f'r once, asshole."

Taron swallows hard, ignores his suddenly racing heart, and carefully looks down at... Jameson, lying next to him.

The stray is curled against him like a cat, his patches of hair oddly soft and ticklish against Taron's forearm. In sleep, all his sharp angles soften, and he looks... years younger.

His voice sounded younger, too. And impossibly full of... love.

What happened to the person the kid had loved like that, that he ended up angry and scarred and scared? Taron rubs a hand over his face.

Probably better not to think about it too much. Or he'll start asking himself those questions, too.

There's a soft cough and Taron flinches, looking up to see Matteo, over by the door to the kitchen, looking down at him with eyebrows nearly at his hairline.

Taron feels a sudden wild urge to say this isn't what it looks like, and just as suddenly has to hold back something like panicked laughter. Zizi would be laughing, if it were her. She's going to find this hilarious when he tells her later.

"... Guess I fell asleep," He says instead. "Get started doing the opening stuff for me, yeah? Give us... Give me ten minutes and I'll be up."

Matteo just nods. "You got it, boss. Do I need to back you up on anything, or..."

Whatever he thinks, he doesn't show a single emotion on his face.

"No," Taron says firmly. "You don't. Just go get started on chopping onions, please."

Matteo heads back into the kitchen. Jameson hums, nuzzling against Taron's arm, giving a little whine when he pulls away, putting distance between them. "... What-" Jameson's eyes blink open, then, and he looks up at Taron. Dark eyes flick from the windows - the sunlight - and then back to Taron.

And then, to his shock, the kid blushes.

"Hey, uh, fell asleep. Don't need to worry," Taron adds quickly, before the stray can say anything. "But I need to get started on setup for the day, so... We need to clean this up. Yeah?"

"... Yeah. Shit. Um." There's a beat of silence. Taron watches all those sharp edges come back to Jameson's face, watches him hunch his shoulders in self-defense against blows that he doesn't have to worry about anymore. Not here, anyway. "Fuck, I'm sorry-"

"Don't be. Fell asleep." Taron shrugs. "It happens. I need to go back home to check on the animals before we open. Would you-"

"Yeah, I'll fuck off, no problem." Jameson sounds oddly earnest, getting to his feet immediately. Taron can tell it hurts him to do it, but that jaw sets in a line and the stray, like he always does, does his best to hide it.

Taron thinks about the soft face of the sleeping stray when compared to the way he looks ready to bolt at any sudden moves when awake. "I was going to ask if you could help Matteo with the prep. I'll pay you for your time-"

"No need," The stray cuts him off. "You gave me a place to sleep, right? I'll-... I'll go help now."

He all but flees, and Taron hears him greet Matteo. Everyone in the restaurant is fond of the kid, really. No one minds him working here and there or hanging out in a booth for hours when the weather is bad. He's a good worker, anyway.

Taron just has to find a way to sneak money into a pocket or something so he'll allow himself to be paid.

#jameson au #i love taron #for the love of angst #whump #box boy universe #box boy #runaway whumpee #bbu #caretaker and whumpee #although really they are both whumpees and caretakers #writing

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trivialbob · 2 years ago

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My wife got home from work at 4:30 AM. One might think some sleepy dogs would not hear the garage door open at that dark hour. I don't hear it. What I do hear is lots of barking.

These dogs might even have picked up the sound of Sheila pressing the garage door opener button as she was two houses away. They are keenly aware that they get a treat every time she comes home from work, regardless of the time.

Last night I wasn't up late, so felt rested at that early hour. After treats the dogs went back to sleep. I got up to read.

Oliver had taken my spot on the couch, the one where I can plug in my laptop. I made him move and enjoyed the warmth he left behind on the cushion. We keep the house pretty cool overnight.

Yesterday I went to the office. Not since March of 2020 have I worked outside my home or seen co-workers in person. Someone had scheduled an in-person presentation I wanted to attend.

There weren't many people in the building, but it sure was nice to catch up with some of them. At the presentation I saw some other people I hadn't seen in five or ten years.

The old office building is closed, eventually to be replaced by condos and apartments. I must make a point to get over there to watch the demolition. They should let former employees take a whack or three with a sledgehammer before the big equipment goes to work. Wouldn't that be fun?

The new (for me) office is outside of downtown. There's no practical bus route from my home. The old one was easy to travel to by express bus.

What the new place has is plenty of free parking. For the first time in about 15 years I drove a car to work. I enjoyed it, though I certainly wouldn't want to do it daily or even weekly.

With few people in the building it was pleasantly quiet. There were nearly uninterrupted opportunities for office supply theft. I've no need for a blue highlighter (what a dumb color for highlighting) but now I have six of them!

#Just kidding about stealing blue highlighters #I stole yellow ones

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whirlybirbs · 4 years ago

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( another gif by @unearthlydust from this beautiful set ! )

✪ — VACANT MIRRORS ; B.B. | 3/?

summary: you find out about bucky’s past, he finds out about yours.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 6.4k, va va voom

a/n: oh look out here comes the plot, charactization, and growth between to pals who are maybe starting to feel a little something begin to take shape. but ignore that, there’s danger afoot. no spoilers for tfatws here!

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“You know I have to ask these questions. It’s part of the check-in.”

“Yeah,” you fire back, flat enough to warrant Dr. Hart’s scowl to grow. You can’t see it over the phone, but you know the way her words whip around you means she’s upset, “I know.”

“If you’re not following the action plan set out by the judge,” she begins, leaning forward as her tone drops into a scalding hot sort of seriousness on the other end, “You will go to prison. You know this. So, do you want to spend ten years of your life behind bars? Are you trying to get yourself locked up? Come on.”

You can’t look up from your computer’s screen. Or maybe you can, but right now, there’s a dangerous mixture of anger and guilt and frustration boiling under your skin.

“I’m trying.”

“Trying isn’t good enough for the GRC,” Dr. Hart snaps, “You know this. They’re giving you a chance — they know you’re talented. You have the ability here to go straight, to earn a living, to finally make up for those years of blackhat work.”

“Everything I did,” you fire back, ripping your eyes up to meet Dr. Hart’s, “Was for others. I didn’t get a fucking penny.”

“You’re not Robin Hood,” she shakes her head as her tone softens, “We all make mistakes. But, everything has a consequence. You know this. And this conversation isn’t even considering the other charges.”

“You know the extortion case would never hold up in court.”

Dr. Hart sighs raggedly. “And I don’t intend on ever seeing it play out in court, because you’re going to follow the conditions of your pardon.”

“The GRC is a bunch of fascists—”

“Enough,” she snaps, “If you want to go and appeal your case with the judge, be my guest, but I can almost guarantee you’ll be perp-walked out of that Federal courtroom in cuffs.”

She’s right.

Dr. Hart is right.

Your knee is bouncing, up and down and up and down. You’re wound up around yourself, arms crossed tight, brows knotted. With a shaky exhale, you just nod. You breathe, and you remind yourself that she’s right. She’s right, she’s right, she’s right. It’s not worth it. Dipping yourself back into that world, the layer of the web beneath the surface, isn’t worth it.

The GRC is your way out.

Just be a good little girl and do as you're told.

“So, I’m going to ask you again,” Dr. Hart begins, pen clicking alive on the other end of the phone call, “...Have you engaged in any illegal activities online in the last seven days?”

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

Inessa Sidrova’s photo stares up at him from its place on the speckled marble counter, stacked neatly next to his notebook where her name is scrawled in chicken scratch — between two other names: Zemo and Henrikson.

His laptop, technically on loan from the FBI, sits beside both.

(When Barnes had agreed in that closed doors meeting to the conditions of his pardon, a certain FBI agent by the name of Jimmy Woo had been rather insistent that Barnes needed a personal computer in order to carry out his portion of the conditions insofar as tracking down the remaining HYDRA pawns in the States. Woo had also insisted, to the agreement of Dr. Raynor, that a personal computer would help better acclimate Barnes to the new world he’d been dropped into.

Woo was even nice enough to take an hour of his own time to show Bucky enough to get started — but was whisked away for some investigation out in New Jersey.)

Bucky rubs the cold vibranium of his left palm into his eye, then exhales long and slow.

He’s done all he can. And still, no leads on the woman.

Rounding the kitchen island, he digs his cell from his pocket. He goes back to staring at that text — the one he’d laughed out loud at the moment it lit up his phone — and he can feel that ol’ bite of anxiousness creep into his arms. His fingertips tingle.

On the television, a laugh track plays over a clip of The Three Stooges. Blue eyes flick upward, and he partially wishes a ladder would put him out of his own self-induced misery.

Outside, the antics of a Saturday night in Brooklyn roll on.

In the last few days he’s parsed through his thoughts enough to realize it’s not telling you that scares him — no, it’s telling you the truth. The whole truth. All of it. After all, the good comes with a lot of bad; the sort of bad you chain in a chest and sink in the ocean. And Bucky finds that, even still, the good is questionable at best. The good is… small. Microscopic. Completely and totally tainted by the fuckin’ decades of brainwashed, war dog bullshit.

He groans and drops his head back against the wall.

He tries, for the next twenty minutes, to formulate some sort of reply to your text message. But, half the battle is figuring out what to say, and the other half is actually typing it out. This whole flip phone purchase was really starting to sting like regret — and as much as Bucky loved technology back before the war, and all the magical possibilities it held, he can’t help but feel like an ornery old man now.

It’s the change. Steve was right. Too much change.

He can’t find the space button and he can’t figure out how to delete the random 3 he’d accidentally punched in — so, with a grumpy huff of disapproval, Bucky simply dials your number.

You pick up on the third ring.

“Don’t you know it’s Saturday?” your voice is a welcomed sound, “The History Channel is running a bunch of old war documentaries you might enjoy, grandpa.”

Bucky snorts, fiddling with the hem of his hoodie. “What makes you think I’d wanna watch that shit?”

“Everyone knows that old men like two things,” your voice is light, half-distracted from the sounds of it, “World War Two, or grilling. And honestly, you don’t strike me as the grilling type.”

“I like a good burger.”

“Yeah?” you snort, and Bucky can hear you shift your phone from one ear to the other, “Is that why you called? To hint at being hungry?”

“No,” he exhales, looking out the window, “No, I was trying to reply to your text but I can’t find the fuckin’ space button. Calling is easier.”

“Oh my god—”

“Shut up,” he barks with a laugh, sitting up, “Don’t even start — are you hungry?”

“Almost always, why?”

“Got any plans tonight?”

“... You do know who you’re asking, right?”

Bucky grins, a little boyish and a little tired. “Good point. Loser.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re the one calling me to hangout,” you snort, leaning to prop your feet up on your desk and lean back. Your chair wheels backwards, far enough for you to get a good look down the street. It’s a nice night, cool enough, and it seems like the whole borough is awake, “But, I’m only hanging out if you tell me what the fuck is up with court mandated therapy. I can’t wait another three days.”

Your anxiety has been pricked the last few days over it.

“... Do I get to pick the place?”

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

“Great,” he exhales tightly, “I hope you’re in the mood for sushi.”

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

Izzy’s is busy, but there’s privacy in the bustle.

Bucky had buzzed your apartment’s ringer and you’d flown down the stairs, looking… alive. The sort of alive that was new — like a fresh bud beginning to bloom in spring. It had made him grin, and he’d watched you push a tress of hair behind your ear as you decided it was warm enough for no jacket tonight. The light of the crosswalk sign lit you up like a star.

He was sweating.

Dr. Raynor was right — that was it, of course it was — that it was getting too warm for his usual outfit. So, he’d settled on the next best thing: a sweatshirt that was big enough and black enough that he could bury himself in it. His hands are tucked neatly into the pockets.

No gloves tonight.

He feels naked.

He shoulders the door and holds it open with the toe of his boot as you duck towards the back of the restaurant. There’s a booth in the back by a large bamboo plant — you weave through the place with a new found confidence. There’s anxiousness in your shoulders but it melts when you look back at Bucky. Like a watchful guard dog, he nods.

You settle into the booth, toss your jacket in the corner, and smirk.

“I get out sometimes,” Bucky remarks before you can even say anything. He shifts in the booth and reaches up to scratch his cheek with his right hand, “Not often, but I do.”

“I didn’t say anything...”

“You were going to,” he nearly smirks back, his brows raised as he adjusts the chopsticks on the table, “I know that look.”

You snort, nudging his boot under the table. That works a huffed little laugh out the man across from you. Almost immediately you can sense anxiousness rolling off him — it’s the tightness in his mouth that gives him away, the way he’s fussing with the soy sauce dish and trying to get it to line up perfectly with the marbling on the table. Worry flashes in your eyes.

“Bucky.”

He raises his head.

“You alright?” you ask quietly.

“You have to promise not to flip out.”

Your brows knot tightly — but before you can even question what the fuck he means, he’s casually dropping his other hand onto the table.

And you almost don’t notice at first. Your brain fills the gaps in, figuring it’s his glove. But, then you blink and his hand catches the light and you realize it’s not leather. It’s glittering obsidian, garnished with gold, and it’s moving. Flexing. Seams bending and warping and there’s a gentle hum coming from the appendages and you squint because he’s tapping his fingers on the table and there’s a metallic tik-tik-tik that meets your ears.

Then, your eyes jump to his face.

He looks pained.

You’re confused.

And then you’re not.

“You’re —”

You slap a hand over your own mouth. You have to promise not to flip out. Your eyes are eighty miles wide and your jaw is falling open and you’re leaning forward, whispering in a rushed tone because what the fuck.

“You’re that Bucky?!”

Oh, you feel stupid.

The hostess appears, suddenly. You snap backwards in the booth, Bucky tucks his hand away, and you both muster forced smiles to the waitress. She’s young. Pretty. Her name-tag says Sarah.

She asks about drinks.

Bucky gets a beer.

Slowly, you knock your knuckles against the table and drop your head into your hand. The look on your face is exhausted. “Do you guys have Mai Tais?”

The answer is yes. And you’re glad. Because you’re going to fucking need it.

The two of you are quiet until the drinks come — avoiding one anothers gazes for completely different reasons. Bucky is sheepish, a bit mortified, like he always is when people recognize him. It’s why he shaved his fuckin’ head. It worked well enough but… the arm was usually a dead giveaway.

Meanwhile, you’re wondering if you could shave your own head and disappear. Because there’s no easy way to explain the weird elation swirling in your chest right now.

Bucky’s first to speak. His beer is in his good hand. He inhales quickly, eyes darting to you as he leans forward and whispers incredulously. He speaks quickly and his words are pointed with an edge of curiosity.

“...What do you mean ‘that Bucky’?”

“Y’know, I knew there was a reason you acted like you needed a senior citizen discount. And you know exactly what I mean,” you rush out all while waving your Mai Tai and jabbing the side with the umbrella towards him, “Listen, this is a lot to take in, Mr. Avenger.”

“I am not an Avenger—”

“You helped reverse the Snap. You’re the Winter Soldier. That makes you an Avenger—”

Bucky’s shaking his head, eye screwed shut tightly because the sudden equation to his past self being considered a hero is like being socked in the mouth. He stutters over his words and shakes his head more vigorously, like he’s trying not to hear what you’re saying.

“I am not the Winter Soldier. Not anymore. And it’s not like I’m not on the fuckin’ roster, doll—”

You hold a finger up, stopping him there, and take a long sip of your sunset colored drink. You swallow. You exhale. Bucky swigs his beer.

“One, don’t call me doll,” you say curtly, then raise a second finger. You lean in and squint, “Two… Christ, the haircut really makes a big difference, doesn’t it?”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” he sighs raggedly, dismissing your scrutiny.

You puff your cheeks out and exhale. Leaning back in the booth, you try not to feel so fucking insane.

“...I can never have you over now.”

Bucky’s brows narrow quickly and his eyes snap to yours. “What?”

“I can’t have you over,” you explain slower with your eyes rooted to the soy sauce in the corner, “Because I don’t think I could ever handle you seeing my signed and framed Captain America poster from his USO tour in 1943.”

Bucky’s face is deadpan. “You’re kidding.”

“I really wish I was,” you gripe, “It’s an original.”

“...You’re a Cap girl,” he says suddenly, leaning back with this look in his eye. It’s less of a question. You can’t pin it down. It looks like he's damn near traumatized.

Bucky thinks — honestly — that this is the cherry on top. Every girl back then was a Cap girl, too. It figures, now, in this new century where he’s making new friends that… as per usual, Steve gets the cake. That fuckin’ pint sized bastard.

He’ll have to tell him about this.

You yank your eyes up to Bucky’s face. His mortification is shifting to surprise to amusement. You’re fast to sit up, mouth opening to fire a retort — but Bucky’s suddenly really enjoying the look of pure horror on your face at the insinuation. He’s smirking. Plain as day. He swigs his beer.

“No, no—” you raise a finger, “No, stop it. Don’t make it fuckin’ weird, Bucky, it’s not like I have his name tattoo’d on my ass. And I knew a girl in college who did.”

His brows rise sharply and you’re finding you’re regretting everything that’s coming out of your mouth.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you guffaw, gesturing for him to show you his hand again, “I wanna see.”

Bucky sighs and plucks his hand from his hoodie pocket.

With a sort of tenderness Bucky wasn’t prepared to handle, you take his metallic hand into your own. There’s an immediate twinge — one that’s procured by flashes of violence from years of being a walking weapon. He breathes, and he reminds himself that this arm is not the same that tethered him to HYDRA all those years ago.

This arm is his, it is not him.

The sensation is different. He isn’t used to anyone touching him like this; he’s used to the feeling of flesh on the other end of a punch, or a throat caught in his palm. Not the gentle pass of your fingers, delicate and purposeful, over his knuckles.

You turn over his hand, eyes alight with curiosity — and Bucky, desperate to stamp out the hotness growing in his gut, moves quickly to flick your nose.

“Ow—”

“Don’t stare,” he says coyly, “It’s rude.”

The waitress is back. His hand is tucked away, and you wrestle the stupid expression off your face long enough to order a plate of assorted maki rolls and some fried tofu. Bucky orders what seems like his usual — shrimp tempura and spicy tuna rolls.

The waitress, Sarah, disappears with a smile.

You’re grinning.

“So… Does this make me the sidekick?” you whisper playfully.

“Shut up,” Bucky laughs, his lips almost darting into a smile.

You cock your head, pushing your chopsticks across the table with a horribly coy look on your face. It’s comical. “...I think this makes me the sidekick.”

“It — stop it — it does not make you the sidekick,” Bucky says slowly as he sips his beer and pins you in the booth across from him, “I’m not a hero. You’d have better luck asking Cap on that one.”

You grow silent. There’s a question hanging on your tongue. You’re wrestling with yourself — Bucky can see that much. He frowns.

“Spit it out, Goose.”

You blink. “Was that a Top Gun reference?”

“You wanted to be the sidekick.”

You wave it off, blinking into your Mai Tai. Your voice is quiet. Even as you speak, there’s a hesitancy akin to walking on eggshells. “What happened to Cap? Is he… alive? He’s gone off the grid. It’s, like, this massive conspiracy theory online.”

“He’s upstate.”

You blink.

“That’s ominous.”

Bucky shrugs. “Someday I’ll take you. It’s… nice.”

You go quiet. You freeze, drink halfway to your mouth. Bucky can’t help but smirk at that. His laugh is more of a scoff than anything.

“Relax, Miss America.”

“Shut up — do you mean that?”

“What, that I think you’re in love with Captain America?”

“No, you bastard, that you’ll take me. To meet him.”

Bucky’s words are easy. They roll off his tongue without a second thought. He feels… okay. Like this part is okay. Not as bad as he thought it could be. His anxiousness isn’t as heavy now. He feels like he isn’t losing you. But then again, he hasn’t gotten to the bad part yet.

“He’s my best friend,” Bucky explains plainly, “And so are you.”

The admission is warm. As easy as breathing. Two months in the making.

“Your only friend,” you say quietly, offering the joke as a cover for the softening tone that dances over your words. It’s affection, you realize, as you mimic his shrug, “But, go on.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Bucky chirps, “But, yea, I mean it. He’d like you.”

You raise your chin, wiggling a bit in the booth. It’s pride — and as much as Bucky likes the look of it, he can’t handle the ridiculousness that comes along with it. But, it’s sort of comforting. He knows this playfulness, this easiness, it’s all because he’s him. You trust him. In.a way, it strikes Bucky with guilt. There are wall of his still built up high. Maybe they’re slowly coming down, but… he’s like a stray dog, slow to trust.

“Safe to say,” you breathe, “I have a few questions.”

“I figured as much.”

You sip your drink and swallow. You raise a hand. “But — I wanna know the boundaries. I don’t want to… I don’t want to pry about shit I have no business knowing, alright? It’s your life and even if we are friends, I don’t need to know everything.”

The relief is almost immediate. He thumbs the label of his beer.

“Ask anything. But I can’t promise I’ll be able to give you the answers.”

“And I’ll leave it at that,” you say sternly, propping your elbow up on the table and offering your pinky finger, “Until you want to talk about it. Promise.”

He crooks his pinky in yours, squeezing gently. You smile.

Sarah comes back with the food, and then Bucky offers his usual half-exhausted, half-amused smirk.

“You get three questions now. Then, we shut up and eat.”

You fold your hands neatly over themselves, eyeing your food as you try your best to sort out what questions come up with the most urgency. There’s… a lot. I mean, everyone knew about the Avengers — and everyone had their opinions. The Sokovia Accords, Lagos, the Blip… and SHIELD. Years of bullshit culminating around those who were considered the heroes. The kickback usually ended up on everyday citizens like you. After the initial amazement, the reality of it all set in.

But, to Bucky’s point, he wasn’t really an Avenger.

Nowadays, there really wasn’t a team at all. No up-state compound, no leader, no Stark and no Rogers.

You’re sure the GRC will try — that the military will try. Morale and hope and blah, blah, blah.

You narrow your eyes. “How old are you?”

It’s quick. “One hundred and six.”

“How’d they keep you alive that long?”

There’s a wince that flashes across his face like he’s been stabbed with a white hot poker in the ribs. You see a twitch of irritation bubble across his lips. Not with you. No, it’s that this question is still hard for him to answer. Bucky exhales sharply.

“Next question.”

You feel a pang of guilt flare in your chest. You move along.

“Who kept you alive that long?”

“The Russians. HYDRA, if you wanna get specific.”

You exhale and settle on the fact you now have more questions than answers. But, you nod and snatch up your chopsticks. Enough of the twenty questions game.

In all honesty, it’s not like Bucky’s existence was common knowledge. The Winter Soldier was known mostly, sure, to those who had floated in the same circles as him when he was nothing but a rabid cur on a choke chain. He can’t help but be a bit thankful for the minor erasure of his new self — sure, in the eyes of the U.S. government he was a high-level threat to be reintegrated as soon as possible and surveyed at all times. But, to the average New Yorker, he was just another person. Everyone was so used to seeing the heroes in their costumes with their bigger than life personas and…

Bucky was just Bucky.

Even he didn’t really know who that was. He was starting to.

His pardon had come with some flak from some of the more political news outlets but… somehow, the details of the Winter Soldier’s exact crimes were being kept silent. Probably to avoid panic. And, even then, the connection between the newly alive James Buchanan Barnes and The Winter Soldier hadn’t been made yet in the public eye. He was glad.

The haircut definitely helped.

It’s like he was a walking classified redaction.

Bucky has a sushi roll in his mouth when he finally speaks. “For such a Captain American fan, I’m surprised you didn’t recognize me.”

“Oh, you’re really not gonna let that go, huh?” you say as you chew, covering your mouth. You swallow and waggle your chopsticks at him, “Listen, it’s been a while since I’ve… y’know, had my Avengers phase. That was years ago. It was at its peak when I worked for SHIELD. And besides, you’re kinda new to the whole superhero scene.”

Bucky frowns. “You worked for SHIELD...?”

“For a year,” you say tightly, “Back before the collapse.”

“Only a year?”

“It was for my graduate program,” you wave it off, “I won out on the most competitive internship NYU had to offer. I was working within their cybersecurity division. I will say I spent more time trying to sort of email phishing scams than anything else, though. I’m sure they saw my record and wanted to keep me away from the juicy stuff.”

Bucky squints.

You offer a sheepish shrug.

“I got into trouble when I was younger,” you sip your drink and sigh, “I always liked computers. I used to spend all my time on forum sites just… reading and talking to people and figuring out how these sites actually worked, so learning how to write my own code was just the next step. When I was fifteen, I learned how to tap phones. At sixteen, I was hijacking my neighbor’s internet conenctions and remotely controlling his laptop.”

“Sounds like a good time.”

“Yea, well, he was a sitting Senator who was having an affair with the nanny,” you mutter, “And I was stupid enough to try and blackmail him for cash. I wish I could say I learned my lesson.”

Bucky exhales long and hard at that, like he knows where that snap of misguided judgement goes. It’s not like he’s passing judgement onto you, but… like he knows the feeling. And you manage to not feel so small, then — telling him this is easy. It’s not your favorite part of your life by any means, but Bucky is listening. Really listening.

He fiddles with the paper wrapper of the chopsticks.

“So, less a Goose and more a Kevin Poulsen type, huh?”

You snort. “For an old man, I’m surprised you know who that is. But, I wasn’t hacking into the Pentagon at seventeen. I was too busy doing community service.”

“HYDRA had their eyes on him in the 90s,” Bucky mumbles through a bite of spicy tuna, the memory popping into his mind and flying out before he can stop it, “I remember… I thought his username was stupid.”

“Oh, you didn’t like Dark Dante?”

“Like I said,” Bucky chortles, “Stupid.”

“You wouldn’t have liked mine, then,” you smirk lightly, “It’s worse.”

Bucky raises his brows, somehow doubting that entirely. “Really?”

“...I was hackrabb1t for a long time. Y’know, with a ‘one’ for the ‘i’,” you cringe, “People kept thinking I was a furry.”

There’s a pause. Bucky’s face is set in an unreadable emotion. It’s confusion mixed with amusement mixed with… something else. When he speaks, he clears his throat and tilts his head.

“It’s clever. But,” a pause, “What is a furry? I’ve been seeing that word all over PlentyOfFish.”

Your jaw flies open. You raise your hands as your head reels around. Bucky has a look on his face like he knows, he knows he shouldn’t have asked and he definitely shouldn’t have given you enough context to know where he’s seen that phrase before, because now you’re looking at him like he has seventeen heads and they’re all on fire.

“Y’know what, nevermind—”

“—Oh, no, no, there’s way too much to unpack here,” you lean forward, “You’re on PlentyOfFish?”

“ChristianMingle wasn’t really my speed — stop laughing.”

“Shut up — stop it, stop — this is too much,” you say with a high voice, “If you get catfished, I’m not helping you track the person down…”

“—What the hell is a catfish?” he nearly cries, raising both hands in a desperate shrug, “I don’t even know what any of these words mean.”

“Oh, you sweet, naive, innocent, man—”

“No, no, no, no,” he chirps, raising a finger with a deadly look of seriousness on his face, “No, I am not naive or sweet or any of the above. I’ll take ‘cute’, sure, but none a’ those.”

“Is that what the furries call you on PlentyOfFish? Cute?”

He drops his head back against the booth and stares at the ceiling.

“Our friendship was a mistake, rabbit.”

You choke out a laugh. “Shut up, you walking claw machine.”

You’re both laughing now — quieter but sustained and everytime you think you’ve calmed down enough to sip your Mai Tai, you just have to look at the distraught, scruffy man across from you to break into another fit of muffled laughter. Finally, after what feels like forever, you both manage to calm down enough to finish the plates in front of you.

There’s a warmth that’s settled in Bucky’s chest — it’s eaten away at the usual jitter in his legs, the anxious twitch of his fingers. It’s a different emotion. Acceptance, maybe. Comfort. Affection.

Then, while you’re piling the last bit of sushi rice into your mouth when your phone, set on the side of the table, begins to go off. It hums erratically, dancing in a circle, and all you do is stare at the name flashing across the screen. You’re smiling, hugging her. It’s from Jaimie’s wedding — out in some big, wide open orchard with the sun setting behind you. The picture there is old; you were both different people then.

Before… everything.

MOM Morristown, NJ

You scowl and stare.

Bucky blinks.

“You gonna get that?”

Quickly, you snap out of it. You reach and silence the buzzing with two quick taps. Quietly, you offer up a somber sigh.

“I never do.”

Bucky frowns again, this time with a worried look that digs deep into his eyebrows. You ignore it on purpose, pushing your plate away and leaning back in the booth. He knows what you’re doing — you’re avoiding his gaze, and therefore his own questions.

“Rabbit.”

“Oh, is that my new nickname, then?”

“It fits,” he chirps before crossing his arms, strategically hiding his metallic hand, “What’s up?”

You grow quiet — then it spills out.

“I can’t talk to her.”

“Why?”

You chew your lip. You bite your tongue and you hold back on the finer points of your anger — ones dredged up by the still present sting of your check-in with Dr. Hart this afternoon.

Here it comes.

“As a part of my pardon, I was ordered no-contact with my family,” you exhale, controlling the level of your voice, reciting the court papers you’d read over and over and over, “It was deemed that further contact would impact my progress towards reformed behavior and judgment.”

Bucky’s eyes are wide. His jaw is tight.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘pardon’?”

It’s your turn to cross your arms now, to ignore the sting of his look. It’s the kind that screams disappointment more than anything. You hate that you’re getting it from Bucky of all people.

“Like I said, I didn’t learn my lesson when I was a kid,” you shirk, “Last year I was arrested on a number of counts — I’d been evading the FBI, CIA, all of them, for years. I was doing it all for people like me. The ones who got left behind.”

Bucky’s tone is flat. It’s serious. His next sentence is less of a question, more of an order. The cadence is rhythmic and it reminds you of your brother the night he found out about the first time you’d been arrested; you decide, then, that Jaimie and Bucky would have gotten along.

“What did you do?”

“Whatever I could,” you wave your hands, “Identity theft, falsified documents, insurance fraud. Anything. There were people, like me, that in a blink, lost everything. Accidents, deaths, evictions and no one did anything for us. The insurance agencies wouldn’t cover damages related to The Snap. Life insurance policies, social security… It all got snatched up by people at the top while the system collapsed around us. I had to pay for my brother’s funeral out of pocket. And there were hundreds of thousands of people just like me, just trying to get by. And everything failed us.”

Bucky is stuck in silence. It’s like mud, dragging him to the bottom of a pond — the sort that’s dredged with misery. In an instant, his veins are on fire with an anger he hadn’t felt in a while. It manifests itself in the tightening of his jaw. He rubs his face and props his elbows up on the table.

“Why won’t they let you see your family?”

You fiddle with your napkin.

“My brother�� His wife was on maternity leave when she disappeared in the Blip,” you mutter, “She came back to no job, a dead husband, and no home. Their apartment complex had been abandoned. She’s trying her best to make ends meet. She lives with my Mom in our old home. Neither of them can find work. They… The court thought that I’d be influenced to do something if I was around them.”

“What, like help?”

“They see me as a criminal,” you manage, “But I’m useful, so they’re keeping me around.”

Silence falls between the two of you once more — and the sad look on your face makes Bucky’s chest tight. He can see anxiety beginning to spill over; you’re wringing the napkin, fiddling with the edges. Suddenly, Bucky realizes you’re feeling exactly how he was an hour or so ago.

Your voice is soft. “I’m sorry. I was going to tell you.”

“Looks like we’re two birds of a feather,” he says, knocking the toe of your sneaker with his boot, “Listen, we all do stupid shit. I’ve got a lot worse weighing me down. I get it.”

You look up, sadness glistening in your expression like sun off a lake. It’s harsh. He wants to look away.

He doesn’t.

“... So, that means you’re good with computers?”

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

That’s how you find yourself in Bucky’s Brooklyn apartment at almost midnight, wandering behind him in the long halls and watching curiously as he digs his key from his pocket and shoulders the door open.

It’s a small apartment. One bed, one bath, a kitchenette and that’s really it.

For its size, it’s hardly lived in.

You suppose it makes sense — Bucky didn’t have a lot of personal belongings, and with the hints he’d dropped about his life before The Blip, you were beginning to understand that he may have never really had that much to begin with.

There’s a blanket on the floor by the television and a single couch pillow. It’s tucked in the corner, behind a small sofa. There’s a chair in the living room, one from an old dining set. At the kitchen counter, there’s a stack of papers and a single laptop. Even though all the kitchen’s wares are older models, the bones of the apartment are good. Bare, but good.

You stop in the doorway to the bedroom and stare at the untouched bed. The sheets are tucked tightly in the corners — there’s something militaristic about it. Across the hall is the bathroom. It’s small. You can see a few amenities scattered across the sink’s top.

Being in here feels something like an open wound.

It was lonely. Quiet. Cold.

“We need to make a trip to HomeGoods,” you mumble as Bucky flicks on the lights, “I get the whole minimalist thing, but sheesh.”

“I don’t have a lot,” he says, kicking off his boots by the door and shrugging off his jacket, “And I don’t need a lot either.”

You watch as his shoulders sag a bit, like he can finally let down his guard just a little in his own space. It’s endearing. You perch yourself up on the kitchen counter as your eyes follow him; he moves to fling open a cabinet and grabs a mug. Then, he hesitates.

“You want tea?” he asks over his shoulder.

“Tea?”

“Dr. Raynor said,” Bucky reaches for a container of tea bags from the top shelf. His henley lifts enough to flash a bit of skin along his lower back and you swear you see a scar, “It would help with my anxiety.”

You swing your legs a little. “Then sure.”

“You can use my Captain America mug,” he chirps, laughing a little to himself, “Seeing as you’re such a big fan…”

“God, I regret even saying anything to you,” you spit as you hop down and lean around him to get a look at the mug, “Did you seriously buy that?”

“It was a gift.”

“Bullshit.”

Bucky snorts as you shake your head and wander backwards, eyeing the rest of his apartment with a bit of astonishment. It’s really nothing impressive — but, you suppose it makes sense. Whatever meager disbursement that the government was willing to give Bucky for his efforts in fixing the Snap was better than nothing.

Your gaze hangs on the blanket in the corner.

He watches you; and he notes the sore sadness that dissolves your posture at the sight of the nest in the corner. A bit of shame colors his cheeks as he heats up the water. When Bucky speaks, it’s slow.

“The bed was too soft. I couldn’t sleep on it,” he shifts from foot to foot and focuses on taking the tea bags out and methodically wrapping the strings around the handles, “Dr. Raynor said that’s a typical thing for soldiers to experience when they come home from war.”

You’re quiet for a while after that, only speaking when he rounds the counter with your tea. He offers it up with a tilt of the head.

“You never got to come home, though, right?”

“No,” comes the short reply as you both watch the lights outside the window, “No, I didn’t. Not until now.”

You nudge his arm with yours. You lean a bit. Bucky leans back.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he manages after a sigh and sip of the tea, “I can’t just feel sorry for myself anymore. I’m trying to fix the wrongs I did — and that’s why I need your help.”

You quirk a brow. He reaches around you and grabs the stack of papers on the counter. With a steady grip, Bucky presents the photo of a woman who looks strikingly familiar. You can’t place her face, but there’s something about her that feels like a slap across the cheek. She’s young here, in a faded photo with tattered edges. Beside her is a man who is laughing. The photo is candid, and they’re both beautiful. They’re both wearing a uniform — but you can’t place the era or location.

You turn to Bucky for answers.

“Back in the 70s, at the height of the Cold War, HYDRA was working in tandem with the Russians to spy on American forces,” he offers easily, staring out the window, “The American HYDRA cell hadn’t yet been planted. This man, Andrei Kuznetzov, was a spy. He was feeding the Americans information on the Russian nuclear program. His wife, the one in the photo, was ordered to kill him. She refused.”

Bucky’s fingers twitch.

His words are soaked through with pain.

“I,” he continues, “killed him.”

You hold your breath. Then you spare him a mournful look.

“Inessa Sidrova went on to help form the same HYDRA cell that ended up taking over SHIELD here in America,” Bucky mumbles, “She’s dangerous. There’s others like her, ones who I helped create, all over the world. But, she’s my top priority. I just haven’t had much luck tracking her down.”

“That’s why you need my help.”

“I’m 106 years old,” Bucky deadpans, “The microfiches at the library were getting a little tedious.”

“But,” you chirp with a sly smirk, “You figured out how to set up a PlentyOfFish account?”

He shoulders you again as you sip your tea and laugh.

“Shoulda never said anything,” Bucky grumbles, “Dr. Raynor thought it was a good idea. Y’know, to get back out in the world.”

“I can promise you,” you say with a stern shake of the head, “The metal arm will get you plenty of chicks and dudes in due time.”

“Good to know,” Bucky replies as his words lilt with a playful sort of questioning that you purposefully ignore. You’re not feeding his ego today. Maybe tomorrow, after you take a crack at figuring out where this woman is.

It’s going to be a long night.

#vacant mirrors #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier imagine #tfatws imagine #bucky barnes #marvel imagine #bucky x reader

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hansolmates · 4 years ago

Text

distance learning (m)

banner done by the beautiful @eerieedits

summary; after their first hookup, jungkook isn’t so sure whether you’re serious about being exclusive. after all, people say things during sex. jungkook takes it in his own hands to figure out where you stand, and he realizes soon enough that eavesdropping is a bad habit pairing; neighbor!jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; fluff, humor, crack, insecure!jk, unresolved sexual tension, stressed!mc, this is really just unnecessary drama bc drama is fun™, sexting, dom kook’s still a meanie in control, posession kink, cock slapping, a blowjob, cockwarming, unprotected, creampie, squirting, (wrap the pickle before u tickle folks) and of course the excessive use of the petname [redacted] w/c; 6.1k a/n; haaaaaa three months later im finally posting pt 2! i figured that no matter how many times i edit/reread at this point i think it’s time to finally let this beast go!!! enjoyyy click here for part 1: remote learning drabbles; 01

if you enjoy this, please considering giving our pasta couple a like n’share💚

It’s been a week since the thing.

The remote-controlled vibrator thing.

The whole sappy-love-confesion-during-sex thing.

Jungkook is antsy, tail tucked in, perpetually wondering whether he went too far. You seemed to like it, and Jungkook definitely loved it. It was spicy and dirty and hot, and at the same time Jungkook thought he really made progress in expressing his feelings for you. Not only that, you said you liked him back!

At least, he thought you did.

“I really said I’d feed her lasagna and cum in the same sentence,” Jungkook bemoans into his pillow, which still lingers faintly of your Redken shampoo. “I’m disgusting. She thinks I’m disgusting.”

People say things during sex, Jungkook knows that. In the throes of passion and pleasure, people will say anything that comes to their mind, anything that fits the mood. Of course, you’d be tied in and say you like him back. But did you like him back as a friend? As a fuckbuddy? As something more?

“Fucking text her,” Taehyung is tired of Jungkook’s wallowing, everytime he checks in on the app developer he’s brooding in one of three places. Today’s his bedroom. Taehyung dips under the blankets, and steals Jungkook’s pillow right under his nose.

Jungkook suppresses a whimper, face melding into the blankets. Now that pillow is going to smell like Taehyung.

“Text her what,” Jungkook replies despondently.

“I don’t know, something along the lines of ‘I wanna follow through with my proposition of feeding you my cum and lasagna—not simultaneously. Wanna go on a date this weekend?’ It’s that simple,” Taehyung gets up in Jungkook’s face, dark eyes forcing him to bore right in. “Want me to do it for you?”

“Noo, I’m an adult I can��”

“I did it for you.”

Jungkook nearly knocks into Taehyung’s hard head, sitting up straight when he notices his phone behind his roommate’s back. This is what he gets for sharing passwords. Thankfully, the message is cleaner than Taehyung’s words, and you’ve already replied.

[1:23] Jungkook: would you like to go out for dinner this weekend? pasta and wine?

[1:25] You: it’s a busy week this week 🥺 raincheck?

“Was the sex that bad?” Taehyung frowns, reading the message twice.

“N-no,” Jungkook is sweating. He isn’t sure anymore.

Taehyung hands Jungkook back his phone, slowly, as if you’ll reply back with a change of your mind. Jungkook is a deflated balloon on his bed, feeling like a bum in his ratty sweater and a dateless weekend.

“It’s just that,” Taehyung puts a hand on his lip, mulling, “busy people don’t reply that fast. Like even if she wasn’t busy, there’s a fifteen-minute leeway before replying.”

This silly rule overrides Jungkook’s mind for the rest of the week.

The gyms have been reopened for months, and Jungkook’s trainer misses him dearly. Jungkook meets with Saeroyi in the morning, eager to get a few jabs in with some fresh equipment. He tries to move on, distract himself with a couple of pumps and a match with Saeroyi. It feels great to sweat it off, but it doesn’t help sway Jungkook’s incessant thoughts.

The ball is in your court now, Jungkook has nothing to do but wait. Some people are just bad texters, maybe you just happened to have your phone near you when Taehyung sent the message. Maybe you just wanted to cut Jungkook off as quickly as possible so you decided to reply fast and rip the band-aid.

No, you’re definitely not that cold-hearted.

Re-entering his apartment complex, his eyes linger towards where your room lies on the first floor. It’s all the way at the end of the hallway, and he’s tempted to just confront you and make sure that what you and him really had is indeed, over. Conversely, you could just really be having a bad week and you genuinely do want a raincheck.

Jungkook’s eyes trail to his form. Still in his gym clothes, and a little sweaty from the travel time. If he gets caught, he can just tell you he’s doing a cooldown by running across the hallways. Not the first time it’s happened, afterall it led him to you at one point.

He breaks into a soft jog, making a beeline to your front door. His feet squish against your old welcome mat. You haven’t changed it since Halloween, and he smiles fondly at the black scripted “Boo Y’all” written in script next to a chibi-ghost.

His heart beats faster as his hand lingers by the door, ready to knock. Deep breaths. Who knows, he could just be overthinking (like usual.)

“Fuck, Hobi!”

Jungkook freezes, his knuckles a centimeter away from your door. He backs up as if he’s been burned. His heart has fallen all the way down to his ass, and intends to stay there because now he feels like a damn fool.

The bed is creaking relentlessly, a rhythmic pattern that has Jungkook’s face crumbling at every spring. Jungkook’s face hovers over the door, his ear brushing against the wood.

“C’mon, bunny,” the male voice is teasing, “you know you love having me over. It would satisfy both of us if you’d just let it go.”

Bunny. A cute pet name, for sure. The way it rolls off the stranger’s tongue is natural, as if he’s been saying it for years. But what about being his doll, is that not good enough?

You’re huffy, taking deep breaths. He doesn’t want to hear anymore. Jungkook has put himself through enough self-wallowing for the week. What if he was just a stepping stone to meeting new people that will satisfy you better? What if you just needed one good orgasm to get your flow back, and Jungkook’s job is done? Sure, there were no strings attached when he proposed to have sex with you, but he thought…

No more thinking. Jungkook jogs away from the door, even going so far is to jog all the way up to the penthouse.

He hates this.

You hate this.

It’s been five days since Hoseok’s arrival, and you are going bonkers. Why couldn’t he get a hotel or an AirBnB? Because he’s cheap as fuck, that’s why. Your dinky cousin has been clinging to you like a lonely koala, and while you found it cute in the 5th grade, it doesn’t translate well nearly two decades later.

Every morning is the same. You make a subpar toast and Nutella breakfast, letting Hoseok’s slices go cold as you log in for work. You’ve been clocking in earlier in the hopes to finish the majority of your tasks before Hoseok wakes up, because by then you can barely function. Once he wakes up, he’s relentless, bouncing on the bed and talking your head off while you try to concentrate on whatever your boss is telling you. Whenever he jumps too hard, your cheap mattress causes your laptop to fly, and the only thing you can do is curse him out. Sometimes he plays Disney movies and sings in tandem, choreography and all.

You know that Hoseok is stressed and this is his outlet, and you don’t have it in you to stop his incessant habits. He’s visiting your area because of a lucrative job offer nearby and the interviews are sporadic, making Hoseok linger in your apartment for hours at a time until he’s summoned for whatever test they want to throw at him.

Most of the interviews are in the evening, and it’s when you can clock back in and finish your leftover assignments while Hoseok is also working. By the time he returns, you’re dog tired and so is he.

Every night, you try to move away from Hoseok’s clingy self, as he grapples onto your waist and slings a thigh over your belly. You wish it were someone else sharing the bed with you.

If you bring Jungkook into the picture however, you’d be burnt for the week. Complete crumbs. It would be too much stimulation for you, having to balance work, Hoseok’s incessant attitude, and putting on a face for Jungkook. Your relationship with the penthouse neighbor is barely budding, hardly watered considering Hoseok’s sudden visit. You cling to the fact that in a couple days you would be giving your undivided attention to Jungkook, most of your priorities out of the way, and most importantly, you’ll have your own room back.

Maybe you could surprise him by giving him a pasta dinner, just like he proposed.

Unable to get the thought out of your head, you blindly reach for your phone on the nightstand. It’s late, very late for a workday. The blue screen burns your eyes a bit, but you're determined to at least check up on Jungkook. You can’t take too long, otherwise you won’t be able to sleep and get him out of your head. Dear, unassuming cousin Hoseok is fast asleep next to you, due to the fact it’s nearly midnight. Making sure not to disrupt him, you carefully cup your phone in your hands, putting it on the lowest light setting.

[11:54] You: hey, hope work hasnt been as draining for u as it’s been for me ☠️ what’s your opinion on pasta sauces, red or white?

Jungkook is normally a fast texter, at least from your experience. It’s you that’s the sporadic texter, sometimes taking hours to reply, other times in seconds. It never really mattered until now, however. But it takes five, ten, and finally fifteen minutes before you get a response.

[12:09] Jungkook: ???

You frown, wondering what you said wrong.

[12:10] You: do you not wanna do pasta anymore? Are you craving something else now?

[12:10] Jungkook: i don’t think it’d work out

[12:10] You: why?

[12:11] Jungkook: im sure you know why, bunny.

Strange. He’s never called you bunny before, and in your opinion you think he’d be the bunny in the relationship—soft and cuddly on the outside, and an absolute horn ball in bed. Is this some sort of weird power play? Is he being passive aggressive on purpose? Whatever this game is, you’re not into it. Grumbling under your breath, you snake out of bed, looking blindly for your slippers in the dark. You’ll be in and out of Jungkook’s apartment in ten minutes.

Just as your hand brushes the doorknob, your new roommate calls for you.

“Bunny?” Hoseok calls blearily, and you’re staring straight at his cookie-printed eye mask, “what time is it, where are you going?”

“Um, out,” you reply shortly, “I forgot I left my laundry in the dryer.”

“Oh, m’kay. Come back soon, y’know I can’t sleep alone.”

It’s then you realize. Bunny. Jungkook thinks that Hoseok and you are a thing. He really needs to stop eavesdropping on you.

You feel your pussy frown. Your cousin is such a cockblock and he doesn’t even know it. Without an answer, you slip through your door and into the first free elevator. As you zing up the floors with the magical 1234 code, you work and rework your hair in and out of its style, wondering if you’ll look more presentable with your hair messy or thrown back.

As soon as you reach the penthouse, you burst into action. “Jungkook!” you cry, pounding the front door, “it’s a misunderstanding, open up!”

The door immediately swings open after the first three knocks, and you punch Taehyung in the chest.

“You look awful,” Kim Taehyung drawls. Taehyung is wearing nothing but a cranberry red silk kimono, and you have to avert your eyes and focus on his face, which is even worse because he’s looking at you like an all-knowing psychic.

“Gee, thanks,” you try to move past him, but he’s blocking the door.

“Jungkook’s in a meeting with some foriegn developers,” Taehyung talks with his hands, pretending like he has any idea of the nature of his roommate’s job, “when it’s this late he doesn’t leave his office until morning. Door’s locked.”

“Well then, can you relay a message?”

“Depends, is this message going to hurt him further?”

Oh my goodness, when Taehyung wants to be he is such an enabler. “Tell Jungkook he’s done wallowing. Instead of jumping to conclusions, maybe he should’ve just asked me why we couldn’t go on a date this week.”

“You could’ve also just told him you have a man on the side.”

“Ohmygod you two are two iotas of a combined braincell!” you shove your hands in your pocket, hotly scrolling through your phone so you can shove a picture in his face. “This is Jung Hoseok, my cousin who derailed my plans this week by crashing in my too-tiny apartment and forced me to raincheck with Jungkook. He’s a blabbermouth and would tell everyone—my parents, my grandparents, my great-aunts—about Jungkook if he found out I was dating, and I’m not ready for that,” you zoom in on the picture, despite the fact that the screen is practically touching Taehyung’s nose, “and the reason Hoseok calls me bunny is not sexual—you two are fucking gross—I had front tooth problems in elementary school and I had a brace on my two big teeth, it was not pretty.”

“Ah, bunny.” Taehyung echoes with wide eyes, looking at you as if you’re now the one with sage wisdom, “it all makes sense now.” He gulps, taking in the old photo of a mini-Hoseok and you, yourself frowning to cover your huge braces and Hoseok trying to pull your gums apart with his greasy little fingers.

Satisfied by Taehyung’s evident squirming, you decide you’re too tired to further this interaction. “Tell the other half of your cell for me, will ya?” You’re already turning away, pressing repeatedly at the elevator button, “I would love to go on a date with him as soon as he gets his head out of his ass.”

Jungkook is tired, but not tired enough to murder Taehyung and make it look like an accident.

When he has late meetings, Taehyung is usually quieter around the apartment, and even gets Jungkook a hot meal once he wakes up in the afternoons. Today, Jungkook slept through and through. Normally he’d wake up midway to Taehyung’s television dramas, or the clanging of last night’s dishes but nope, not a peep.

And today’s hot meal is takeout from Jungkook’s favorite ramen restaurant. That only means one thing—something has gone to shit and Taehyung feels guilty.

Jungkook sips his tonkotsu impossibly slow, hearing Taehyung’s words—your words from last night—clear as day. Taehyung even describes in detail where the nickname bunny comes from, down to how miserable you looked in the photo with your monstrously metal-bent teeth. Oh, how he wishes he can swaddle you between the blankets, hold you and comfort you while you deal with your family.

[2:45] Jungkook: doll, im so sorry

[2:45] Jungkook: please, i booked us a weekend at that new spa that just opened downtown. The tickets are flex, so if your cousin doesn’t leave by then week we can always reschedule

[2:51] Jungkook: baby doll…

This is far worse than believing you didn’t like him. Now Jungkook is antsy, knowing you deserve all the space in the world because of how silly he was being. You owe him nothing. If he just waited it out until you were ready, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He’s potato-esque throughout the day, thankfully Taehyung gives him space as he watches hours of mindless television.

You don’t reply until very late into the night.

[10:10] You: IM ALIVE--barely!! And mr. jeon, you’re not only a triple texter, but an ellipsis texter???? You’re asking for trouble

Jungkook has no shame, immediately texting you back. He can’t help it, he’s smitten.

[10:12] Jungkook: taehyung explained everything. It’s all his fault. Don’t ask why, it’s his fault. Im so sorry.

[10:12] You: mm, it’s okay. Just a misunderstanding. I was pretty upset last night, but i’ve been pretty tired this week so my fuse is short.

[10:14] Jungkook: you should go to sleep now, doll. We’ll have time together after your cousin leaves

[10:14] You: just a couple more minutes. Miss u and your cute face

[10:16] Jungkook:

[10:16] Jungkook: will this hold u off until saturday?

Jungkook is a pile of goo. Pink, warm, happy heart-glittered goo. It takes a minute for you to reply, and for that whole minute Jungkook is kicking his legs under the sheets of his bed like an eager five-year old who just gave his crush his Valentine. Maybe it’s taking you so long to reply because you’re trying to send a selfie of your own, running off to the bathroom to take a cute selfie if your cousin is asleep in bed.

[10:19] You: fuck, i kno that’s supposed to be a cute selfie, but i want you so bad. I want to sit on your face, let your lips glisten with my pussy as i cum all over that pretty face

[10:19] You: i wanna touch myself so badly but fuckin’ hoseok is out here snoring like he’s gon hack a lung. Panties are so wet 🥺🥺 your doll is needy for you, wanna be played with

[10:20] Jungkook: lfjsdl;fkjs;fjsoisfoisljsdfsdklfjsdklf

He throws his phone across the bed, feeling himself twitch in his red flannel pyjama bottoms. The thought of you so hot and needy when you’re ten floors down has Jungkook absolutely livid. He doesn’t know how he’s going to talk to you, comfort you without missing you like crazy.

Jungkook thinks back to what he has in his fridge. His contractor sent him a cheese assortment, maybe he can bring it down pretending to be a friendly neighbor. Maybe Hoseok can go to the convenience store to conveniently grab a bottle of wine. He can make both of you cum in five minutes, flat.

Akin to a dumb, horny teenager, he sighs. He rubs his palm longingly over his member. He’s horny, but he’s also eager to see your face. Talk to you, get reacquainted with your routine and sneak his way into it. He wants to be a part of your life, and he’s hoping you will too.

[5:02] You: Jungkook, you left me hanging last night

[5:05] Jungkook: baby doll… i wouldnt have been able to handle myself if we continued

[5:06] You: so you decided to dip :(

[5:06] You: could u play with your doll a lil bit, kook? Hobi left for another interview

[5:08] You: PNG.0901

Jungkook was a fool to believe that you would drop him like that. No, Jungkook can see now that you two are a match made in heaven. You have a bite, never afraid to speak your mind when needed. This translates to a hunger you shamelessly share with Jungkook, both sexual and romantically intimate. He almost wishes he could’ve seen you act like a bitch to Taehyung last night, he can only imagine how sexy you looked telling him off.

He has the technology to blow up your picture, the one that’s currently having him close his laptop and shove it to the side. He spreads his legs further across his glass desk, trying to find comfort between his tight pants as he absorbs every bit of your skin.

It’s nothing too risque, but it’s nothing short of sensual. The room is dark, but it’s very clearly a picture of your hand between your thighs. Again, you’re between your wall and bed, squished between your office chair with your legs spread as far as they can go. Your skin is so soft looking, plush as you press two fingers between your damp panties. Adorable.

[5:12] Jungkook: you know why i never replied last night? Because i was too busy jacking off to your dirty words doll. U really need your mouth washed

[5:12] You: wanna wash it with something else🍆

[5:12] You: please kook, i need something. Hoseok will come home soon and i might rip his head off. Help prevent a murder

Jungkook chuckles, clutching his phone closer to his body. He loves how much you’re opening up to him. Last week feels like so long ago, how you were all flushed and wide-eyed at the proposition of sex. He thinks you two can have a lot of fun getting to know each other, both emotionally and physically.

[5:15] Jungkook: i was gonna wait until i sent this, but i think my doll needs it. Here’s what i was doing last night

[5:17] Jungkook: MP4.13

He… has a meeting in five minutes. A very important, very serious meeting. Jungkook jacked off enough last night, now it’s your turn. He hopes you like it. It’s not a very long video, barely a twenty-second clip of him fisting his cock. Taehyung was still home at the time, so he had to keep quiet. However, he couldn’t get the image of you out of his head that night, rubbing your thighs together in a cramped mattress as you try to erase the dirty thoughts of him. A murmur of your name, and the image of his precum dripping down his knuckles. You hope it’s enough.

[5:34] You: u make everything so much easier💜✨

[5:35] You: MP4.234

Two minutes. The video you send is even shorter than his, barely fifteen seconds. You’re in a much more comfortable position, horizontal on the bed. Your shirt is ridden up to the underside of your breasts, one hand clutching your bare breast so hard he can see your cotton plush skin bulging between your fingers. The other hand has your panties shifted to the side, three fingers in your sopping cunt.

“Mmh—fuck, f-uck Jungkook—” the words are mere breaths, puffs of air as you reach your orgasm.

His call connects. He nearly drops his phone on the glass.

“Jungkook!” Andreas from Germany wishes him brightly, “you look great, glowing even!”

Jungkook blushes, and mutters something about having to go to the bathroom before they start.

Taehyung makes himself scarce on Saturday. He packs a duffel bag for himself and takes the PlayStation, knowing it’ll be a long weekend at Jimin’s.

Jungkook is on livewire for the morning. He even express-delivers a pasta roller to his house, and he spends all morning testing out the perfect pasta dough. His black apron is covered in flour, and he can barely comprehend the tutorial that’s teaching him on his flatscreen.

He’s on autopilot. He hasn’t contacted you since he sent that selfie, and he doesn’t intend to. Jungkook understands why you made yourself scarce in the beginning of the week, preferring to raincheck and pin your relationship for a better time. Jungkook’s brain is overridden with you, swollen with thoughts of you. You would never be able to focus if you kept in contact like you did last night, especially if you can’t get away from Hoseok.

Absence surely makes the heart grow fonder.

Slapping his hands against his trousers, he surveys his handiwork. His pasta is appropriately floured and wrung, each handful of fresh dough wrapped in little nests. Off the stove is a bechamel sauce, a base ready to be cooked in whatever kind of pasta dish you want. He thinks the two of you would have fun making your own non-traditional pasta dishes.

The soft knocks on his front door interrupts his train of thought, and he knows it’s you.

You stand in front of the door, impossibly small in a large shirt and a plain pair of leggings. At the sight of Jungkook, a smile as warm and sweet as hot chocolate worms its way to your face, and you collapse into his arms.

He sighs gratefully, sinking into your small body. When he pulls away, he can’t help but frown at your apparent exhaustion. You must’ve come back from something tedious, because sweat dots your brow and your eyes are still puffy and dark. Your chest arches bonelessly into his, hoping to melt in his embrace.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hey,” he replies.

“It’s Saturday.”

“It is Saturday.”

You rub your nose between the fabric of his button down, “I should’ve been more specific when I wanted to raincheck on you,” you murmur into the white cotton.

“No, I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions,” Jungkook whispers, even though you’re the only two people on the floor, “I’ll make it better, yeah? I’m going to love you so good tonight, won’t have to lift a finger—”

You shake your head, looking at him calmly. “Jungkook, it’s been a long week. Hobi got the job, I spent all this morning moving his two-ton speaker set into his new apartment. I don’t want anything gentle. I want you to rail me into next week,” Jungkook chokes on his saliva when you reach to cup his dick through his pants, already sporting a chub, “fuck me breathless. I want—no, I need this.”

Anything for you, but Jungkook isn’t going to let your mouth runneth over that easily. He wants that too, obviously. But again, you’ve made him wait.

Bending slightly, Jungkook whispers darkly into your ear, “Who said you can decide the rules here, doll?” he’s been waiting all week to slip back into this persona, one that has you shivering delightfully under his touch. A small, secret smile tucks itself under your lips as you tilt your head down, but Jungkook catches it. It shows you’ve missed it too. He lets your sneaky smile slide for now, only because he’s missed you so much and you’ve had a long day.

“If I wanna fuck you rough, I’ll fuck you rough. If I want to edge you until you're sobbing on the corner of the kitchen table, I’ll do it,” Jungkook spits every declaration into your skin, biting at your shoulder so hard you cry deliciously.

He drags you over to the living room, and he could sing at how easily you follow directions. Both of you have been tied up this week, and some hard sex would definitely ease that frustration, “Knees,” Jungkook commands, and you waste no time sinking to the floor, hands atop your knees.

You look up through your lashes, eyes big and glassy. His poor girl is tired, and he finds it all the more attractive that you’re willing to push that aside to make eachother feel good.

“Pretty, pretty,” he chants, pulling down his pants and letting his dick spring free, “suck.”

You waste no time, and he watches as your eyes dilate over the expanse of his cock, half-hard and ready for your mouth. Your nails dig into your knees as you start with featherlight kisses, finally turning into sloppy smacks as you lick all over his dick.

Jungkook groans, weaving a hand into your hair to force his dick down your throat. You gag at the sudden intrusion, but it doesn’t stop you from taking it like a champ. Hard, deep thrusts that he’s sure you can feel all the way in your stomach. You gag at each thrust, but don’t let up as your hot tongue wraps him up and licks at the pre-cum.

“Fuuuuck, doll,” he rips you away, his now hard dick springing away. He’s a little shaky on his knees, but he plants his feet down as he grips his cock, slapping the tip of it across your cheek. It smears your face, glossing your flushed cheeks in a mixture of your saliva and pre-cum. “Are you trying to make me cum first? So sweet, you don’t even care if you cum tonight, hmm? You owe me, making you believe you had another man.”

This isn’t true, of course. The both of you know it was just miscommunication, but it doesn’t hurt to play it up for pleasure.

“N-no Kook, I’m yours,” you grapple at his pants, pulling them down so he can get them off completely.

“Right. You’re. Mine.” With every punctuated word is a light slap to your cheek, and you take it. His cock bounces right off of you, until you finally move your head to suckle at the engorged tip, “I’m keeping you forever, doll. Don’t you know that?”

Throughout this whole process, you don’t move, other than the minute clawing at your knees. You’re so good to him. Jungkook pulls away and ignores the ache in his member for now, taking off your clothes for himself. It’s like unwrapping a gift, revealing every bit of skin reserved for his viewing. “So sexy,” he remarks once he’s got you bare, pulling you onto the couch. He’s still in his button down shirt, his date night shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. However, he lets your hands inch under the stiff fabric, feeling for his taut muscle.

He guides your aching cunt to his cock, sinking you down. It’s a tight fit, and you both moan at the brush of contact. Despite not being prepped, you’re still slick, and it makes up for it. He doesn’t thrust up or anything, just guides his lips to yours with a threadbare brush of his finger.

“Kook, d-do you want me to move?” you mumble against his cherry-flavored lip balm.

“Good dolls don’t move until they’re told,” your eyes widen innocently at the statement, and you crumple against his mouth, at his next words, “cum like this.”

“Awh shit, please no,” you tear up, burying your head between the crook of his neck, “I can’t wait.”

“Thought you wanted me to fuck you into next week. You can’t do this one little favor for me?” he’s being so mean, and you hate him for it. Haven’t you earned it? “C’mon baby, I thought you wanted me?”

It’s silent, save for the soft Italian restaurant music playing from whatever tutorial he’s hooked up to his television. It’s terribly cliche, like you’re in the porno version of a European romance movie. He thinks nothing of it, not when your juices are dripping on his thighs, your skin soft and pliant in his grip. Jungkook drums his fingers against your spine, seemingly uncaring that you’re stuffed deep into your womb.

On the other hand, it’s the only thing you’re acutely aware of. His thick, warm cock is nestled between your folds, right where it should be. You clench once, twice, thankful that this isn’t some crazed wet dream. States of sleep and consciousness have blurred this week, you’re lucky that you made it all the way up to Jungkook’s apartment.

You can’t cum like this. You need to bait him. You moan, the sound slow and rumbly against your throat as you weave your fingers through his dark tresses. Moving the strands aside to kiss his cold metal earrings you murmur, “I love this, Kookoo. I’ve wanted you all week, I was going crazy. I kept playing last week in my head over and over. I even put in my little vibrator, hoping you’d pull up the app.”

Jungkook’s teeth clench, and his grip is borderline painful as it digs into your hips.

“I haven’t been able to cum all week, and I want to do it all over you,” you husk, playing with the roots of his hair.

You can feel yourself dripping, wetness lubricating you even further and probably staining his thighs and couch with your arousal. Every second that passes is killer, and the fluttering towards your pussy tighten further as Jungkook’s cock twitches in response. Your pussy continues its ministrations, butterfly-like flaps against his hot member that have you vibrating.

“Mm, oh, I’ll cum for you,” and surprisingly, you might be able to. All this dirty talking has gotten you riled up. Just a little bit more and—

Jungkook shoves you off his cock, forcing you to land on the couch.

“No!” you cry, wiping your face. Your cheeks are ruddied, and you’re annoyed. The coolness of the autumn air has you feeling chilly, and you want to scream at Jungkook for disrupting your orgasm. You feel empty.

You’re not annoyed for long however, as Jungkook flips you on your back and gives you what you’ve been craving.

“You glide right in, don’t ya doll,” the friction is deliciously blazing, his hands pushing you further into the large couch as he takes you from behind. Hot, fast smacks against your ass come from the way his balls bounce back and forth as he pistons his cock in and out. “F-fuck, you’re so good to me. So good, I love having you like this. All pretty and dripping, you really know how to make a guy wait, huh?”

“Mmph! N-no—hng, but I’m y-yours, Kook,” you garble out, and you’re practically eating the throw pillow you’re propped up on as he slams you further into the cushions, so hard you may fall off, “all yours, honey. N-no more waiting. I want you, want you so badly—ah fuck!”

“It’s worth it, you’re worth it,” he says over and over, his thrusts becoming sporadic and losing their rhythm once he feels you clenching uncontrollably. He presses his two fingers to your sloppy bud, swirling around the juices eagerly. “C-cum, baby doll. You deserve it, yeah? Cum on this cock, let go.”

You’re starting to see spots, black and white alike. Finally shying away from his cock you rest on your back, but Jungkook doesn’t stop his fingers from flying across your clit. One look at his face and you’re gone. Pretty brown eyes, overflowing with affection. The feeling is different, and it’s the acute pressure between your stomach and pussy that makes you notice what’s going on with your body. The pressure finally releases, your eyes fluttering shut as you rest your cheek on the cushions. You dissolve, a mess on the couch as white hot liquid ejects from your body, spraying Jungkook’s thighs and cushions.

“Y-you just,” your lover’s mouth is parted open like a baby kitten, uncaring as to how the dark liquid stains his couch fabric.

“Squirted?” you answer breathlessly, a melty smile on your lips, “y-yeah.”

It sets him off, a button left dormant until now. The thatches of hair that surround his cock are dripping with your mess, a cold reminder that he got you to this high. He doesn’t hesitate to slip his cock back into you, and you gasp at the overstimulation. You try not to focus on how your body is a bundle of lit nerves, only to help Jungkook reach his completion.

“S-so perfect,” he warbles, pressing kisses to your jaw, chin, lips. Each thrust is deep, thick and heady with emotion. “Mm, I wanna cream this pussy sooo badly—mm, all mine, all wet and warm and so so sweet—”

He cries out your name, biting into your shoulder as your walls fill further with his hot cream. Your thighs are shaking from sensory overload, and Jungkook has to hold you down and soothe you into a state of reality to cling on.

Satiated, he nuzzles into your chest, feeling absolutely featherlight.

“T-thank you,” you say gratefully, when at least three out of your five senses return to your body. Your hands dip down to clutch his cheek, pinching lightly at the warm skin.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Jungkook exhales into your breasts, “d-didn’t even feed you my cum yet.”

You scoff, pinching his cheek again. You’re aware of his softening cock between your folds, ready to seep the efforts of today’s coupling, but your stomach says otherwise. You crane your neck to make note of the kitchen island, staring curiously at the metal pasta roller and the little nests of carby goodness that decorate the cutting board.

“Feed me pasta first, please. You have all night to feed me dessert.”

Jungkook giggles into your stomach, he doesn’t mind feeding you in that order.

bonus.

“So.”

“So?” you have cream sauce on your lips, happily slurping on an angel hair.

“You haven’t told me you liked me back yet,” Jungkook rests his palm in the swell of his cheek, content with watching you eat from where he’s standing on the counter. He leans his upper body across the marble table, muscles rippling against his white shirt.

“Oh, I did!” you’re affronted, swinging your legs on the high chair, “I totally did last week!”

“Yeah, well. Can you say it while I’m not inside you?”

“Okay,” you blink, quirking him with a simple smile, “I like you.”

“That was anticlimactic,” Jungkook jokes at the brevity of your confession, yet his heart betrays the charm he finds in the three words.

You scoff, jabbing your fork in the little next of springy noodles. “What do you want to hear? I’ve wanted you since I’ve moved in? I think you’re really handsome when you pace the hallway doing work on your phone? I like the way you cook?”

“Keep going,” Jungkook sing songs, walking over to hug you from behind.

The stool swings back and forth as he rocks the two of you, softly and slowly so you don’t throw up your dinner. He noses into your neck, inhaling your scent and committing it to your memory.

“Mm, dessert first,” you insist, twirling around the stool so you can wrap your legs around his waist. “And then I can tell you exactly how much I like you,” your fingers play with the buttons of his shirt, walking the pads of your fingers across his chest.

Jungkook grins, hands reaching to cup your bottom and bring you to his bedroom. Of course, he’s always willing to satisfy your insatiable appetite.

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #btsguild #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #kwritersworldnet #jungkook fic #bts smut #bts fic

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my-dumb-obsessions · 3 years ago

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Ten Random Lines Tag

Thank you for the tag, @sillyliterature!

Rules: Pick any ten of your fics, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.

I don't actually have 10 fics yet, but here's what I've got. And I also don't have 10 friends but tagging @ephemeronidwrites, @anderstrevelyan, @psalacanthea, @glowing-blue-feathermage, @notebooks-and-laptops, and @fthechantry if you feel like going through your back catalogs 😁. Also feel free to ignore.

All the Things I Deserve (E, F!Hawke/Anders) - Act 2 romance

The last brought a smile to his face and his dark amber eyes were full of both sincere affection and heady desire as he whispered, “Astrid…” He so rarely used her first name it sounded special, like a shared secret. And she loved the sound of it rising from his lips like a prayer.

By Your Side (M, F!Hawke/Anders) - unpublished, Act 1-2

Gamlen snickered, “And your lowlife friends are any better? Or your dear father?” Hawke gaped at the low blow, and her uncle visibly worked to hold back his temper, “I had nothing to do with this. Maker’s fucking breath, Hawke! You’re a stubborn bitch, but we’re still family. And Bethany was the best of you lot.”

Fly Away (T, Anders & Velanna) - post-Awakening Vigil's Keep

“Meaning?” Velanna shrugged. She’d never heard of it but assumed it was something obvious to humans.

“Oh, right!” He smacked his forehead as if he’d missed something obvious before folding his arms and leaning against the window frame by her feet, “It’s a Chantry holiday…Day of the Dead, remembering the fallen and all that…”

“Ah,” she nodded, “and the Wardens have a lot of dead to remember, I imagine.”

I've Got You (E, F!Hawke/Anders) - Deep Roads Expedition

“Bethany is twenty years old, Mother. She can make her own decisions.” Hawke tossed the comment back in passing as she followed her mabari to the door. “I’m taking Beau out. I hope you can have this settled by the time we get back.”

Light the Way (T, F!Hawke/Anders) - unpublished, Act 1

“It was amazing, by the way.” Hawke declared when Anders returned with tea. He looked confused by that, but they took their mugs with thanks and she clarified, “The magic you did, with the blue fire and the lights and, um…” she made an expansive gesture with her free hand, “exploding Templars.” He snorted at that and tried to hide his smile, taking a seat on a crate next to her.

“That was a spirit you called, wasn’t it?” Bethany interjected, “You're a medium?”

One Door Closes (T, F!Hawke/Anders) - pre-Act 1

When the waiting room cleared, a tall, blond man stepped out from the curtained area, scrubbing a hand over his face. The dwarf approached him and pointed her out as they conversed. A brief flash of panic crossed the healer’s face when he saw her, but he seemed to shake it off, thanking the dwarf before walking over to her. He greeted her with an apologetic smile, “Sorry about the wait. Maksim…takes his job very seriously.”

Silverite Moon (M, F!Amell/Nathaniel) - unpublished, Awakening

Velanna had been observing quietly, but asked Sigrun next to her, “Why is that funny?”

The legionnaire nearly fell from her seat giggling, and Anders answered for her, “Well he’s either going to try to kill her or kiss her. In either case, we might need a new archer.”

And from my only non-DA work, a Skyrim behemoth known as God of Monsters - (E, Forsworn Dragonborn)

The Matriarch smeared a bit of the bloody paste - a mix of crushed eyes, dragon blood, and a generous portion of void salts - between her own sparse brows. She dipped her thumb again, and anointed Ruari’s forehead, “Eagle of the Reach.” Melka stepped back momentarily, concentrating, and then anointed Ruari’s lips, “Dragon of the North.” The girls watched, visibly awestruck at the hagraven’s ritual. She paused again for a moment, and made the final mark on Ruari’s chest, above her heart, “Wolf of Oblivion.”

#dragon age fanfiction #dragon age 2 #dragon age awakening #handers #warden amell #skyrim fanfiction #tag game #writing #fanfiction #oc cariane amell #oc astrid hawke #oc ruari (forsworn)#doc's fanfics #long post

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punkgrogg · 4 years ago

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Doorway Duo pt.3

Pairing: Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader, Hybrid!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Hybrid!BTS, Non idol AU, fluff

Warnings: Pregnancy

Summary: Y/n was abandoned by her long time boyfriend and moves back home to help prepare for the baby. She’s surprised to find two unfamiliar hybrids at her house.

Length: 3,074

Notes: Sorry I took so long! I had to split this update into several parts because I ended up typing out over 6,000 words so another part will be posted in a couple days hopefully I can fix my laptop by then.

Date Posted: 9/4/2021

“Share the heat,” Hoseok complained, tugging the blanket from my cocooned form.

October ‘s days were chilly but as soon as the sun set, it was freezing. I was propped up on the couch, surrounded by pillows and a king sized blanket tucked around me. Mom sat on the recliner to my left, the reason behind my assortment of pillows, and Hoseok was shoving his way into the occupied seat on my right. Well, my legs were occupying it.

“There’s a while couch right there ass hat.” I whined as he lifted my legs and placed them on his lap. This wasn’t so bad- he was warm- but the sibling bond between us made sure to complain.

“I don’t want to sit next to dad, he’s way too excited over the game.” Hobi pulled out his phone and scrolled aimlessly.

“When’s Namjoon gonna be here? His team is kicking ass.`` Dad was lively when it came to soccer. It was cute though and I loved how animated he’d get with each goal. But the kicker is that he and Namjoon rooted for other teams. Hobi, Jin, and I all sided with dad on the sports front but Joonie picked a shitty team that’s been coming up in the last couple of years. Maybe the heart attack he nearly gave dad ten years ago was worth it- if the pride in my dad’s eyes were anything to go by.

Joonie was our wild card, he seemed to pick the most difficult path just because he liked the challenge. He’d always do the opposite of what we expected, whether it was the sudden law school decision or boycotting Christmas one year. But today was probably the most surprising.

Jungkook apparently wasn’t a sports fan until this season started, my dad’s enthusiasm rubbed off onto him and now it was funny to see him white-knuckling a sprite over a bad call. Taehyung was taking a nap upstairs and mom was idly reading some seedy romance novel if the blush on her face was anything to go by. Well it was probably the shirtless man emblazoned on the cover that truly gave it away.

Hobi sighed and tossed his phone over onto the side table, he closed his eyes and melodramatically threw his arm over his face as he rested against the back of the loveseat. I rolled my eyes, “what’s it now buttercup?”

He huffed at my nickname, “Jimin isn’t responding.” He dropped his arm to pout at me as if I could help the situation at all.

“You know he’s probably working right now?” I nudged his arm with one of my feet.

His pout turned into a full blown frown as he made puppy eyes at me. “Yeah but that doesn’t mean i can’t miss him.”

“OH, so you’re going to finally admit that you’re dating him?” The delighted smile that ripped it’s way across my face made the frown completely fall off of his.

“Oh shit.”

His shock made me full bellied laugh, “Mom! Hobi finally sa-”

“Shut up! You tricked me!” he hissed as he covered my mouth, I smiled evilly as I licked the back of his hand to deter him.

“The baby.” Jungkook snapped, ripping Hobi's hand off my face. How did he manage to get across the room so quickly? Beyond me. There was a cloudy sort of anger in his face, one where he knew he shouldn’t be angry but couldn’t help it.

“Kookie, I'm fine.” I reached up to hold his wrist as he let go of Hobi's hand. He looked down on me tersely, his eyes colder than usual.

“Hoseok, how many times do your mother and I have to say to be gentler with your sister? You two are honestly getting too old for this.” Dad scolded, his hand on Hobi’s shoulder. I could see him curling into himself and suddenly I felt small.

“Dad, I'm okay, Hoseok and I were just playing. You know he’d never hurt me or the baby.`` I let go of Jungkook's wrist and tried to sit myself up more. It was hard this late into the pregnancy.

“You need to be more careful too, you’re way too rowdy these days.” he chastised me and I could feel the anger at being talked down to. I’m not a child anymore.

“No, this is my baby and my body, I get to decide when it’s too rowdy. We weren’t wrestling or fighting and I could easily breathe. We were doing nothing wrong, why are you acting like this?” My tone was cold and I forced myself up into a standing position. Jungkook stepped away from the couch so i could have enough room.

“y/n baby, you know i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings-” i cut him off; i was fuming.

“Well you did. You basically said that either my big brother is going to hurt me or that I'm incapable of judging how much energy I can exert. We’re all adults in this room, why did you two have to intervene?” my glare turned to Jungkook, he hardened his gaze.

“The baby’s hormones are-”

“No more baby excuses,” I cut him off. “I know he’s fine, he’s twisting and kicking just as he’s always been.”

“The baby’s hormones are-”

“Stop Jungkook.” I held up a hand, the anger bubbling up to the surface. I needed to cool down before I lashed out. I could feel the heat coursing through my arms and filling my chest.

“No, Y/n he’s right I didn't notice it till you stood up but the baby’s hormones have gotten really strong all of a sudden.” Hoseok chimed in. still seated, he reached out and touched my stomach. Mom crossed the room and shoved her way through Jungkook and dad to kneel in front of my stomach, accessing my state.

“What? What does that mean?” I cradled my bump, the fear seeping into my words. He felt normal there, my doctor told me if anything were to feel wrong then to trust my instincts and immediately go to the hospital. But this was different, nothing felt wrong.

Taehyung thundered down the stairs, “Y/n? What’s going on down here? I can smell the stress from upstairs,” he took a backseat to the worry on my mind.

“Is something wrong with him? Nothing feels wrong.” I turned to Jungkook, the worry overpowering the shame of the argument we had just had. He was the first to notice so maybe he knew what was wrong.

“I was wrong, holy shit, we should make a doctor’s appointment.” Hoseok suddenly exclaimed, he jumped up and held me at arms length by the shoulders. He looked down to my stomach with a shocked expression.

“Honey, get the keys we’re going to the hospital.” mom barked out. I didn’t even notice her leaving the huddle but she was back at the recliner as she tugged on some tennis shoes.

“No! It's okay! The pheromones are showing that she’s okay too.” Jungkook finally spoke up, he threw an arm around me and pointed at the baby.

“She?” The confusion in my father’s voice was only a mirror to the rest of the room.

“Yeah, the pheromones got so strong because there’s two.” Hobi explained as he crossed the room and relieved mom of her purse. He placed a calming hand on her shoulders. Shoulders that seemed to be leveled with her ears with the abrupt stress.

“You mean twins? It's a bit late to find that out don’t you think?” she all but hissed at her third son. Mom was visibly anxious right now, something I had never seen before. She was usually so calm and cheerful around us.

“Mom, you’ve said it yourself, y/n is bigger than most pregnancies.”

“I mean yeah but we’ve gone to the doctor twenty times over the summer and I think he’d find another baby in there.” I chimed in, coming to mom’s other side. I think it helped with calming her down because her shoulders lowered a bit.

“I can smell both, I can smell her all of a sudden alongside him.” Taehyung wrapped his arms around me, his head burrowing into my shoulder. His grip on me was tighter than usual.

“But Tae that doesn’t make sense.” I turned in his grasp, facing the snow leopard hybrid, my disbelief written across my face.

“He’s had a very strong scent and a very strong heartbeat, maybe he just masked hers.” Jungkook stepped into my bubble once again. He was on the other side of Tae but seemed to block off any others from joining in the clique.

“But the ultrasounds only show one baby.” I reasoned out, my right hand reaching behind me to rest on my mother’s shoulder. Accepting there was a second was terrifying, I was barely holding myself together for the one pregnancy. Adding on another? Was I eating enough? Taking enough precautions? Maybe dad was right in intervening today.

“Back in the day they couldn’t find Seokjin’s penis and told us we’d be having a girl. It was a bit of a shock when he came out.” Dad. Of course, I've heard this story before, ultrasounds weren’t always perfect.

“What should i do?” I was scared and it was evident in the shake of my voice, Taehyung only hugged me harder.

“Hey guys, what's going on here?” Namjoon’s voice shattered the tension of the room. Seeing him and the dark haired male next to him gave me a chance to breathe.

Hoseok flitted across the room, his excitement at seeing our older brother evident in the wagging of his feather duster of a tail. “Joon, you're going to be an aunt and an uncle.”

“What?”

“Hobi that’s not how it works and you know it.” Mom chastised with a small shake of her head. Hoseok was a blessing to us all when tensions were high. “Who’s this?”

Namjoon seemed to freeze up a bit before throwing an arm around the guy hovering behind him a bit. Said man flushed lightly at the attention turning to him and in the soft light of the living room I could barely make out a pair of silky black ears atop his head. “This is Min Yoongi, he’s my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” I sputtered out, breaking the moment of silence that enveloped the living room. I could see dad from my peripheral making his way to the doorway with a smile.

“Yeah, problem?” Joonie’s eyes were narrowed at me but eased up at the grin I was sporting.

Pulling away from Taehyung a bit, I sneered at Hobi. “Hoseok- he told us about his boyfriend before you could. How does that feel?”

Hoseok groaned before stomping over to me to grind out: “Oh my god you're annoying and technically i said it first.”

“But you didn’t tell mom and dad.” I taunted, the faux misery on my brother’s face would fuel me for months. Taehyung sat on the loveseat behind him and tugged at the hem of my shirt for me to join him.

“They’ve met Jimin before though and according to you i’m not subtle.” Hobi argued, his hand on his hip. Jungkook followed Tae and I down to the seat and I was wedged between the two with my legs in Kook’s lap. He gently rubbed circles into my swollen ankles as Hobi and I glared at each other.

“Anyway, what's this about me being an aunt now?” Joonie interrupted the stare down with Yoongi by his side, our parents must have finally let them out of their interrogation.

“These three are suddenly claiming I'm pregnant with twins.” I explained with a flick of my wrist, the stress of the situation (that was only a few minutes ago) seemed as if it were twelve years in the past.

“Um, I can smell two scents too.” Yoongi’s soft spoken words brought back the fear.

“Holy shit, mom! What am I supposed to do? Should we go to the hospital?” I tried to push myself up into a sitting position but Taehyung held me gently to his chest.

“The babies are happy, I don't think they’re in danger. “He hummed softly into my ear. I could feel the sincerity behind his words. He rubbed a hand up my arm gently and started to purr. An attempt to ease my anxiety.

“Danger or not- we still need to confirm if there are actually twins. That’s a nightmare in itself. That’s double of everything I was sort of ready for. Wait, what if I give birth prematurely- don’t twins come early?” there was panic rising in my chest.

“Mom and Dad went to their room, they’re recovering from the unexpected news but Y/n it’s going to be okay. We’ll go to the doctor’s tomorrow, together,” Hoseok reminded me, he softly ruffled my hair as he leaned down to kiss the top of my forehead. Still I looked around the room for my mother. The one who holds all the answers to my pregnancy fears. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi, all stood above us three, all showing a different expression. Namjoon looked apprehensive, which was normal for him. Hoseok looked as if he were trying to tame a wild animal. Yoongi thought he looked stunned, his eyes blown wide.

“Hobi you’re banned from my ultrasound appointments. You almost broke the equipment.” I reminded him with a forced smile. I could still feel the panic but it was ebbing away. I wasn’t dying, I was safe. The babies were safe. Everything will be okay.

“That’s so rude, I apologized and everything.” he crossed his arms, generously taking the bait. Knowing that Joonie would laugh at his expense.

“We’ll go with you, we haven’t been able to go since Hoseok has been.” Taehyung declared, way too happy for me to decline, and I smiled softly at him. I was held up against his torso, his head just a few inches above my own. He leaned down and rubbed his forehead against my own.

“You’re going to scent mark my sister in front of me?” Namjoon sputtered indignantly, causing Tae to freeze all of a sudden.

“Namjoon, that’s not scent marking.” Hoseok laughed and shoved at his shoulder playfully.

“Actually, we feline hybrids scent mark like that instead of that mess you canine hybrids do. I scent marked Namjoon earlier in the same way.” Yoongi crossed his arms and seemed to glare down at Tae. I was a bit shocked to say the least.

Hoseok had explained it to me when we were younger, scent marking was a hybrid instinct, and it had two different connotations. There was a familial way and a romantic way to cover another person in their pheromones. Hoseok would hug us and hold our hands growing up to rub just enough of himself on us to comfort himself that we were his family. Especially when we were younger and playing with larger groups of children or when there was a big event. The familial way would only last a few hours and was more of a comforting thing for family and very close friends to help with bonding.

Hoseok had explained the more romantic way was to imbue another’s scent for a much longer time and it was done by stimulation to the scent glands which meant that they would lick each other’s scent glands. He had been tomato red explaining this to me when he had found another hybrid’s scent on me that was much stronger than his own. When I explained that I was just playing with a hybrid at recess and they hugged me he seemed to melt into the floor in embarrassment.

Taehyung was staring up at Namjoon with an indecipherable expression. The massage on my ankles had stopped at Namjoon's exclamation and my glance at Jungkook showed him to be in the same emotionless stare down but instead he was staring down Yoongi. He knew too, but why hadn’t he told me?

“She’s part of our pack, of course I would scent her.” Taehyung had no emotions in his words, the monotonous response seemed to aggravate my brother.

“Wait,” I held my hand up to the seething man before turning to his boyfriend. “I’m confused. Hobi said that licking my neck would be romantic scent marking and hugging was familial scent marking. Which would this be?”

My question caused all four hybrids to freeze up, Hobi’s face once again lighting up in embarrassment.

“Uh, he said that? Well, uh, that’s wrong.” Yoongi forced out, his face turning a light shade of pink.

“Hybrids themselves decide what the type of scent marking it is when they release the pheromones, and there’s a lot of different meanings that could exist. Typically a more familial scenting would be a hug- so that part is right- but also kissing the top of your head could work. Licking your scent glands isn’t a romantic way for scent marking, it’s more sexual.” Yoongi's face almost matched Hoseok’s at this point. “Romantically speaking there’s a lot of ways you can scent someone- like rubbing your necks against each other which is common amongst the canine hybrids. For us feline hybrids we rub our faces against the person, like he had done to you. The pheromones typically let us know, but he’s not releasing heavy enough pheromones for us other hybrids to notice, but rubbing his face against yours is claiming you as his in feline standards.”

“Oh,” I could feel the hybrid underneath me tense up as Yoongi's explanation came to an end. I glanced up at him to see him still staring down my brothers.

“I’m still a little confused but thank you Yoongi. Namjoon, Hoseok, I’ll take it from here, I don't need you hovering over us for this conversation. In fact, I think I'll take this conversation elsewhere, you three have fun watching the game. Joonie, dad recorded this and last week’s matches for you.” I worked my way into a standing position with Taehyung’s help and made my way to the stairs, both Taehyung and Jungkook glued to my sides.

“It was really nice meeting you Yoongi,” I smiled at him and waved my goodbyes as I made my way up. We made our way into my room, the two hovering in the doorway. Just like I had met them. I took a deep breath and settled onto the bed.

#doorway duo #bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #hybrid!bts #hybrid hoseok #hybrid jungkook #hybrid taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x you #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #pt. 3

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chocolatecakecas · 4 years ago

Text

The Fabric of Your Life

@spnprideweek day 1: coming out/flags

warnings: internalized biphobia, implied past physical abuse, alcohol mention

The first time Dean watched Star Wars, he was ten and his dad dumped him and Sammy at some crappy motel with a promise that he'd return soon. Dad hadn't bothered to register either of them in the local school, since it was supposed to be a "milkrun", so by day four they were both climbing the walls. And Dean was sick of it, so he took the money he had left, after buying a box of cereal and a three pack of mac and cheese at the gas station, and dragged Sammy to the video store he saw when they drove into town. He rented, Star Wars: A New Hope because he remembered some kid at their last school wouldn't shut up about it, and wow was that kid right. Dean loved everything about it, especially Han Solo, with his fast ship, and his blaster and his cool hair and, smooth talking. Every time he was on screen, Dean got this weird funny, excited feeling in his tummy, and he assumed it was because he wanted to be just like him when he grew up.

(read the rest under the cut or read on ao3)

It was the same feeling he'd get later, whenever he caught an old western at the movies and Clint Eastwood or John Wayne would saunter across the screen, but he tried not to think about it too hard.

When Dean was fifteen they were stuck in some small town in Nebraska for four months. The town was shit, but Dean had luckily made friends with this guy named Jake Preston who was two years older than him. They were practically inseparable, sneaking into movies, late night joyrides in Jake's crappy pick up, swiping beers from Mr. Preston to drink under the bleachers. And sometimes when Jake would do a successful donut with his truck, or con their way out of trouble, or wink at Dean before he snuck them out of school early, he'd get that same funny feeling in his stomach. But Dean would just chalk it up to admiring the guy for being so smooth and getting away with anything. Of course until the night they were drunk on the bleachers and Jake grabbed Dean by the shirt, smashing their lips together. And after the momentary shock, Dean found himself pulling Jake closer for more. But then Jake angrily shoved him away, as if it was Dean's fault and left without a word, leaving him alone under the bleachers, terrified about what he had just done and wondering if Jake would tell anyone at school. But it didn't matter because they quickly left town the next day, his Dad saying he finished up the hunt, so for years, Dean would just shove that memory off as a drunken accident.

When Dean was twenty, he kissed Lee Webb for the first time. They had snuck off while their Dads wrapped up the hunt, swiping a few of John's beers before heading to their motel room. They acted like assholes, loudly recalling the antics they had got up to on the hunt. And Dean found himself unable to look away from Lee's smile, his eye, his arms, laughing loudly at his jokes and felt that funny feeling in his stomach whenever Lee would laugh. And the next thing Dean knew, he was kissing him like he'd done with girls hundreds of times, but hadn't with another boy sinc-not in years. But unlike with girls, Dean was quickly pulling away horrified at his own actions. But then Lee was pulling him back in, deepening the kiss as he struggled to get Dean's flannel unbuttoned. And just as Dean was starting to realize that Lee wasn't going to angrily shove him away, and that maybe this was okay, he heard the door unlock, and was met with a very drunk John Winchester, who quickly made his opinions about the scene before him, known. And Dean quickly realized that he couldn't just push off this off as some drunken mistake, because that's the moment when he first knew.

And now at age 42, he's happily married with a handful of kids that are his in every way that matters, living in the suburbs with a big kitchen and a deck out back, and it should make those moments feel like a lifetime ago.

But he's still somehow there. They're still fresh in his mind as if they happened a few days ago, the feeling of fear still fresh. Even though he's come so damn far, he's gotten farther than he ever thought he would, he still feels like that terrified little kid again.

All because of some stupid, flimsy piece of fabric.

And Dean knows it's ridiculous. He's married to a man for gods sake, a man who he kisses in public and fights with in the grocery store and who's hand he holds when they walk down the street. And it's not like he's worried about anyone's reaction, since they were all at the wedding, they've been to dinner at their house multiple time, not to mention it would be a little hypocritical of pretty much everyone he knows.

And Dean knows all of that, but he still just feels li-

With a heavy sigh, Dean sits on the corner of the bed running his hands through his hair.

Because it's not that he doesn't want the "label", or thinks that he needs to have it or thinks the label is wrong. He wants the label. He likes the idea of being able to call it something. And he knows it's the right one because during the very few times he was brave enough to google it, he realized it was the one that fits the best.

So why can't he just hav-

Pulling his hands away from his face, he slowly turns to look across the bed, heart leaping into his throat when he catches sight of it. And he finds himself frozen, unable to look a way, let alone reach out for it.

And Dean knows he's being ridiculous because he's faced far worse than this. He's died so many times he's lost count, he's saved the world multiple times, he's killed monsters, ancient cosmic beings, been to other dimensions, he's fought Heaven and Hell, and damnit he's even fought God.

But after all of that, he's still afraid of a little fucking scrap of pink, purple and blue fabric currently clashing with the floral comforter. Paralyzed by fear at the sight of it.

So with a grunt Dean practically launches himself across the bed grabbing the offending object and he's on his feet again pacing around the room.

It's just a piece of fabric. It's just a word.

But you know it's more than that.

And something drops deep in the pit of Dean's stomach, as that familiar feeling of fear continues to creep over him, consuming his thoughts.

Because it's more than just a piece if fabric, it's more than just a word and Dean knows that. To him it means something more, and god he wants to have what it means.

Why can't he just let himself wan-

Dean's footsteps stall, and he finds himself standing in front of the mirror.

And when he meets his gaze, all he can see is that confused little boy looking back, that terrified fifteen year old kid, the twenty year old who was just caught and nearly killed by his own Da-no.

Dean shuts that thought down while he's ahead. Because he learned a long time ago not to let his father dictate his life choices, he learned how to stop letting his ghost prevent him from doing what he wants. He's already worked through and made peace with that trauma, well as much as you can work through that kinda crap, that is. But he's come a long way, he's married, he's got kids, he's got a family, he's got a life that he's damn proud of. So he's sure as hell not not gonna let John Winchester have a place in this.

Because this is about Dean. And what Dean wants.

So shaking his head, Dean finds his eyes in the mirror again.

It's just a piece of fabric. It's just a word. And it's a word Dean wants to own. It's a piece of fabric Dean wants to hold. So why the hell can't he just le-

Because you still can't let yourself have what you want.

His heart skips in his chest as he grips the dresser attached to the mirror

After everything he's been through. After saving the world, and Cas's confession, and the wedding, and the house in the suburbs. He let himself have Cas, but he can't let himself have this thing and-

Oh.

Dean can barely admit it to himself most of the time, but he's aware that he believes that wanting, is selfish. That he thinks his wants are inherently selfish things and so he can't let himself want. And logically he knows that's crazy because everybody wants something, but he jus-can't let himself. And for years he could barely let himself think about wanting Cas, and then after everything that happened he jus-he to let himself be selfish just once and want him. But that was only after he knew Cas wanted him too, which made Dean's want, "unselfish" because it would make Cas happy too. That want was technically for both of them, and that's what he told himself.

And that's why Dean hasn't been able to let himself want the label too.

Because wanting the label is something, just for himself.

And Dean chuckles lowly at the irony. Dean Winchester has free will for the first time in his life, and he still just can't let himself have what he wants.

He rubs a hand down his face, pausing when he spots the fabric in the mirror. Dean slowly looks down at his other hand to see it clutched in a white knuckled grip.

And he thinks of the way he felt when he first saw it on some website, after finally convinced himself to open his laptop in the late hours of the night all those years ago. And he thinks of the smile on Sam's face when he handed it to him after their weekly Friday night dinner, as he was on the way out the door. And how he never specifically talked about it with him, but Sam seemed to know anyway, like always. He thinks of Cas' understanding smile as he softly told him he definitely didn't need it if he wasn't ready or didn't want it, and how he didn't even have to come today. And how he never expressed any of this to him, but Cas seemed to know, like always.

And he thinks of how he might feel, holding the scrap of fabric a little more gently. And he thinks of how he might feel holding it today, where everyone can see.

And he makes his choice.

So with unsteady hands he releases his iron grip, and carefully threads it through one of his belt loops. He squeezes his eyes shut, as he tilts his head back up towards the mirror. Then he slowly opens them.

Dean's breath catches when he sees as the flag hanging at his hip, stopping just above his knee. He takes a moment just to stare at the way it sways slightly, side to side. Then his eyes continue their ascent upwards until they meet his face in the mirror. And he finds a small smile pulling at his lips, reflection becoming a little blurred.

Because for the first time in his life, Dean Winchester is going to let himself have what he wants.

Simply because, he wants it.

He spends the next few minutes just staring at his reflection like an idiot, and that thought causes the smile to grow wider, tipping his head back as a soft laugh bubbles up his throat.

But god he's felt lighter than he has in years.

"Everyone's here, are you ready to go?" Cas asks suddenly appearing in the doorway with a soft smile as Dean meets his eye in the mirror. His hair is a mess like always, but he's decked out in a rainbow striped shirt and socks, and he's even got a little flag painted on his cheek, and his smile grows even wider as his eyes pan down to Dean's waist.

And in three strides Dean's across the room and wrapped in his arms, staring into those wide eyes.

"I'm bisexual" Dean chokes out suddenly, voice thick as he releases a shaky breath he didn't realize he was holding. He quickly looks down, unable to meet Cas’ eye, unable to look at his reaction. Then hands are cupping his cheeks, slowly tilting his head upwards.

"I'm so proud of you" Cas whispers, thumbs wiping away stray tears Dean hadn't realized where falling. It pulls a watery laugh from his chest.

"Cmon, let's go before Sam starts bitchin’ about how late we are" Dean laughs, trying not to think too much about how big of a deal what he just said was. And he knows Cas can see right through him, but he thankfully lets it slide. But not before pressing a soft kiss to Dean's lips, and leading the way into the living room.

And later when Dean's standing downtown, he realizes he's more relaxed than he thought he'd be. Luckily nobody made a big deal about the flag at Dean's hip, and hell he even let Jack paint three little stripes on his cheek, but he definitely didn't miss the wide smile on Sam's face. And when they got to the small Pride event, Dean was surprised see a decent amount of people sporting the same colors, one girl even had her hair dyed the same colors, each person shooting Dean a small smile of acknowledgement. And now with Cas' arms wrapped around his waist, watching Claire, Kaia and Jack all dance around to the music blasting in the streets, as he wonders where Sam and Eileen have gone, he tries to memorize how he feels at this exact moment. Because he rea-

His thought is cut short by Cas suddenly pulling him down for a kiss, like he’d done a billion times before, but one of his hands comes to rest by the flag at his hip.

"I really am so proud of you" Cas whispers into the kiss, and Dean can feel the smile stretching across his lips, pulling him closer.

Yeah. Lighter than he's felt in years.

Tag list:

(please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed💛)

@wormstacheangel @smiledean @shelikestv @bichaoticdean @midnightwings-deancas @jellydeans @sunshine-jack @archervale @wikiangela @subbydean @organicpurplepants @you-cant-spell-subtext-without @writtendevastation

@tkdwolf2012 @doemons-blog @sinnabonka @rolling-stoned-girl @skylerkernaghan @icefire149 @dakiaty @seffersonjtarship @feraldean @teamfreebees @keshetcas @jewishdeanwinchester @martymar1963 @midnight-sparks-studio @aestheticflyer26

@slipper007 @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @winchester-novak @lyonessrampant @angelic-bee-enthusiast @nguyenxtrang @idiot-on-the-hill @fandoms-and-things @doreschary @confix @itsanending @thiscowboyisbisexual @milfcodeddean @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie @smokerdean

#okay fuck it. here it is #i really wasn't going to post this because like. this is a LOT and a lot of this is me projecting my thought process so pls be kind if its #shit or doesnt make sense or seems a little out there asffhakfha #i wasnt gonna write anything bc i knew this would make me insane and i was right. it did #this is quite literally so much projection.#literally this is 90% me projecting my 'bisexual journey' onto dean but i do think this would be his thought process i do #my bi dean manifesto #basically. deans bisexual journey with a psychoanalysis #bisexual #<<<<yay colors #bec writes #dean winchester #destiel #spnprideweek #destiel fic #castiel #jack kline #claire novak #sammy #eileen leahy #kaia nieves #deancas #casdean #destiel fanfic #qaslight #userzaddy #seraphcastiel #rambleoncas #offbeattraxx #friendshapedcastiel

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honeytae · 4 years ago

Note

if you’re open for regular requests i’d love to request lil scenarios of the boys learning english alongside their english-speaking s/o! this is totally self-indulgent i’m doing the TEFL program and i’m going to south korea next year to teach :)

first of all, that’s amazing omg!! congratulations my love, i hope you have the best time over there and please don’t be shy in sharing your stories with us!!! i tried to stick to the boys actually learning english with their s/o but i strayed from that with a few members just bc i ran out of ideas lol but i hope you still enjoy!

fair warning....i’ve never ~seriously~ tried to learn korean, so i’m not entirely certain of the parallels between korean and english. i just hope these are wholesome enough to override that lmao

namjoon:

“You know,” Namjoon looked up from his phone, “I understand expanding your vocabulary, but why are there so many weird slang words?”

“Kids these days?” You shrugged, the man chuckling in response before flipping his phone around to show you what had puzzled him.

“If something slaps, that’s...good?” He wondered, watching as you suppressed a smile at the tweet he was showing you.

You could tell by the profile picture that the user was an ARMY, one of the many fan profiles on the platform, and the tweet was written completely in English.

Although there was a ‘Translate to Korean’ option readily available with just a tap of his thumb, you knew Namjoon never missed an opportunity to challenge himself to be able to fully comprehend what a native English speaker was trying to say.

You nearly snorted at the tweet’s content, smiling as you read it out loud.

“The Dis-ease bridge just saved my life. Seriously, this song slaps.”

Glancing at Namjoon, he raised his eyebrows, eagerly waiting for you to translate and explain what that could equate to in Korean.

“It’s definitely a good thing, Joon. They love it.”

At your interpretation, Namjoon grinned, nodding to himself as he pulled his phone back in front of his face to scroll through more reaction tweets to the new album release.

seokjin:

“What the hell is that?”

You picked your head up from your sketchbook when you heard Seokjin whine from beside you, eyebrows knitting together at his distressed tone. Taking a glance over at his laptop screen, you found his mouse bouncing from letter to letter on one of his weekly english lessons.

“What is that, like 15 letters? How do you even use that in a sentence?” He went on, obviously flustered by the word on the screen.

Pulchritudinous.

You placed your hand over his to stop his panicked counting of the letters, causing him to look over at you with a sigh as he frowned.

You nearly giggled at his reaction, but the genuine fear in his eyes made you stifle it as you soothingly held his hands in yours.

“It’s just an over complicated way of saying beautiful. I don’t know why they’re teaching you that, nobody ever uses it.” You assured him, his eyes going down in size a bit at your words before he nodded.

Watching as a smirk tilted his lips, you raised your brows at the sudden expression.

“What?”

“Well like, I could say I’m...that?” He said, eyebrows raised cockily as he gestured to the long word stretched across the screen.

“Well it’s actually not used like,” you paused, giving in with a shrug as you grinned back at him.

“Sure, love.”

yoongi:

“Why did I skip English class all the time?” Yoongi sighed, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers as he plucked at the skin in frustration.

“Because you were trying to be a rebel.” You answered without looking up from your phone, the man obviously not liking your answer as he reached over to where you were laying beside him to pinch at your hip.

Yelping, you scooted across the mattress to get away from his hand, whining his name with a scoff before looking over at his notepad.

“What are you doing, anyway?” You asked, leaning on your palm as you scanned the rows of scribbled English letters written on the page.

“I’m trying to get better at writing.” He admitted shyly, a small grin on his face to match the fond one on your own.

“Aw,” you pouted, Yoongi raising his eyebrows at your tone, “but I like your chicken scratch.”

“You’re such a brat.” He chuckled, adjusting the velcro on his brace with a grunt.

Since Yoongi’s shoulder surgery took away obvious straining activities like dancing and performing, he’d turned to studying English from the comfort of your bed during his recovery as one of the only safe activities he could partake in for a while.

It was now one of his favorite past times, learning new words and phrases he could potentially use in the future. It worked for you both because it took his mind off the pain and kept him motivated, and since you could speak both his and your language, you could help him out whenever he got stuck on something.

Usually he did lessons verbally on his phone, but it seemed today he had taken the old fashioned route.

“Your handwriting really isn’t bad, Yoongs.” You observed, the carefully placed tails at the end of each ‘a’ making you smile out of fondness for the man.

“My man has the prettiest handwriting.” You cooed, pushing a strand of his stark black hair out of his eyes as he blushed down at his notebook.

“Stop that.”

hoseok:

“Hey, babe?” Hoseok called for you, listening to your footsteps growing closer before you popped your head into the kitchen doorway.

“Yeah?”

“I’m having a little trouble.” He gestured to his open laptop on the counter, you recognizing it as an assignment from his English course.

“What happened?”

“Pronouns. Pronouns happened.” He pouted, his disdain for the new chapter quite obvious as he stared down his computer screen.

“What about them?” You asked, stepping closer to the man sitting at the kitchen island and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“I need to make ten sentences using proper pronouns and I feel like I’m doing it all wrong.” He explained, causing you to hum as you looked over his sentences.

“These look great, Hobi.” You smiled as you glanced over the first three he’d written, flawlessly executed on the document.

“Can you help me with the next one?” He wondered, you nodding your head as you took a seat on the stool next to his.

“What do you want the next one to say?” You asked, watching as he glanced off to the side in thought, slightly squinting his eyes at the tile floor beneath the sink.

“My house is next to,” He spoke in English, pausing as he searched his brain for what pronoun to put next.

“Theys?” He answered as more of a question, then shaking his head as he switched back to Korean, “wait, no.” He sighed, placing his chin in his hand in thought before glancing over to you.

“I know it’s wrong, I just don’t know what the right answer is instead.” He explained, you shooting him a loving smile as you pushed the dark raven hair off his forehead and pressed a kiss to the newly revealed skin.

“I’ll help you, Sunshine. No worries.”

jimin:

Flopping onto the bed, you let your tired body fall on top of Jimin’s hoodie clad chest, his arm encircling your body as he mumbled a soft greeting to you.

“Hm, what are you learning about today?” You nuzzled into his chest, peering at his phone propped up on his thigh.

“Animals. Birds, mostly.” He answered, briefly turning from the screen to press a kiss to your head before focusing back on the row of English words matched with pictures of popular birds glowing from the device.

The first was a robin, the next a blue jay, and then a dove.

You listened as the virtual instructor prompted Jimin to repeat after her, spelling out the letters before stating the whole word. You smiled as your boyfriend followed instruction, pronouncing the words the best he could after the microphone chimed for him to do so.

“D-o-v-e. Dove.”

“Dove.” He repeated, smiling to himself as the app announced he got the point with a little heart.

“That’s cute.” He went back to his native language, you humming in confusion as you lifted your head up off his chest to look at him.

“The heart?” You asked, reaching up to twist a stray strand of hair out of his eye as he shook his head.

“Dove.” He said again, making you tilt your head, not knowing what he meant.

“It sounds like ‘love.’” He connected the two English words, you smiling fondly at him in response before scooting up the bed to kiss the tip of his button nose.

“You’re so cute.”

taehyung:

Three knocks at the door announced someone’s arrival to your bedroom, causing your head to lift from the novel you’d been so immersed in. Taehyung was home, but you’d wanted to give him space because you knew he needed to work on lyrics for his mixtape in order to submit them on time.

“Hey,” he poked his head in with a small smile, “can you help me with something?” He asked sheepishly, stepping further into the room when you nodded.

“Of course. What is it?” You set your book down, marking your place before closing it to pay full attention to your boyfriend.

“Well, I’m trying to write this verse in English and,” he trailed off with a shrug, “you know.” He finished, you nodding in response with a gesture for him to come sit next to you.

He eagerly walked over to you with his notebook in hand, lowering himself to the mattress before rolling his way over to where you were leaning against the headboard.

Honestly, Taehyung’s English wasn’t bad at all. He was insecure about it, but you’d never really understood what the reason for that feeling was. His vocabulary was more than decent, his comprehension was good, and his pronunciation was great for having such a thick accent.

But there were many times where Taehyung came to you for guidance, as you were a native English speaker yourself.

And so, as he rested his head on your shoulder confiding in you about everything he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it, you patiently took him through what would work and rhyme best, smiling as he hummed the melody to himself to see if the phrases would work in his creation.

jungkook:

“Baby, can you read it to me again before we go on? Just one more time.”

You glanced over at your boyfriend in his makeup chair, several employees bustling around the man as they attempted to get him ready to go on stage while they had him seated.

With his arm extended backward to where you stood behind his leather chair, he offered his phone to you while shooting you a grin through the reflection in the mirror.

Taking the device from his hand, you opened it to the notes app where he’d written what he wanted to say in his statement on stage in just a few minutes.

You were in London tonight, which meant that all of the boys had been rehearsing their English so that they could communicate easier with their audience.

Jungkook, ever the over-achiever, was determined to do the toughest English tongue twister he could possibly find. Not only that, but in a British accent for his British ARMY’s.

“Betty bought a bit of better butter to make her bitter butter better.” You read from the phone, barely able to read the sentence yourself before you glanced up at Jungkook through the mirror again.

You watched your boyfriend nod as his brain took in the words you’d just said, taking a deep inhale before he began speaking the phrase back to you.

You gawked as the man effortlessly repeated after you, a few of the makeup artists stopping as well as Jungkook raised his eyebrows back at you.

“Was that okay?”

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ackerfics · 4 years ago

Note

levi who's fascinated with the way you apply makeup on yourself and watches you every time you do it, surprisingly does well when you tell him to do your makeup just for fun

i am one of those people who have no idea about applying makeup but i'm levi when somebody's doing it tho, especially if that someone is a close friend of mine snjdnwjnw i just stare at them while they continue doing their thing, it's so fricking satisfying <3

but this is levi we're talking about so here we go:

(pls don't attack me for what i write in this bc i absolutely have no idea abt doing makeup. my knowledge in this is very limited and revolves around watching youtube videos and watching my friends do it bdwjwbj)

if you're planning on going out, even if it's a natural makeup look since you're only hanging out with some old friends or preparing for your class (online or not), levi is ready to stop what he's doing to appreciate the colors you paint over your eyelids or how you blend them so well until they become this aesthetic levi associates you with. for him, you're already so pretty without makeup but when you dedicate your time in perfecting your craft, creating so many looks, levi thinks that it enhances your beauty because you look so adorable while working so hard.

he admires that about you.

you are rummaging in your pouch in your shared apartment's dining table, the morning sunlight filtering through the windows and the pink skies blanketing the waking-up city. the smell of french toast and tea covers the entire space, levi cooking breakfast for the day. you have an online class scheduled in about thirty minutes and after going out of the bathroom, you instantly start making yourself look presentable. you have your laptop opened to your camera app as your mirror, deciding that a change of scenery is perfect for your productivity. you pick up your vitamin c dropper and moisturizer and let the low music from levi's phone fill in the background, your hums mingling with the singer's voice. since all of your classes were announced to be set online for the whole year, you opt for a lighter look which still covers the blemishes that your camera can't hide.

you hear a plate click on the spot beside your laptop, a mug of your favorite brew of coffee on your cat coaster appearing soon after.

"what time is your first class?" levi asks you as he's settling in his chair adjacent to yours. he always chooses that seat wherever you two eat since as he claims it, i want you close to me.

you look up from rubbing the moisturizer on your skin. "oh, 7 a.m., i chose the worst time to take that class."

levi sips on his tea. "you have economics, right?"

you begrudgingly nodded. "i know it sucks but i can't do anything about it." you run your fingers over your eyes. "damn, i have dark eye circles." after putting on your primer, you start by putting on concealer on your under-eyes, dabbing on your skin gently. the whole day, you'll be lounging and doing work inside the comforts of your shared apartment with your boyfriend so going overboard with the makeup won't help and will be a lot of work to erase later after your classes. "what time is your class, levi?"

by now, levi's breakfast is forgotten as he leans on his chair, gray eyes following each of your movements. he always find himself captivated with how effortlessly you make yourself even prettier. even though he prefers your bare skin more (placing random kisses on your cheeks or the corners of your lips are more doable without the feeling of cream stuck on his lips), he still likes how makeup turns you into an artist that uses your face as a blank canvas. he watches with awed eyes how you daintily dab your cream blush over your cheeks and over you the bridge of your nose, blending it that levi thought it's a natural glow on your skin.

with a dazed tone, he answers, "nine."

you glance at him with the prettiest eyes he ever find on a person. you sigh when you realize that he woke up early to make breakfast. "i can cook breakfast, you know. you should've slept in today, levi."

levi shakes his head, sipping on his tea. "no, i'd rather wake up early and make breakfast every day than snuggle alone with our pillows." he then shrugs. "besides, watching you do your morning routine is a great way to start the day."

you only smile at him before cutting a piece of french toast and putting it in your mouth. a hum of satisfaction lights up your face. levi's way of cooking traditional breakfast dishes never fails to amaze you. he has these secrets that even you don't know of since he wants to cook for you with surprises sometimes. with half of your french toast consumed, you continue with your eyebrows and eye makeup, which only consists of applying one shade of eyeshadow and putting on mascara.

if levi has a favorite part of your routine, it's you curling your eyelashes and applying mascara on them to make your eyes more noticeable. and as he watches you create the illusion that your eyelashes longer than they are, he can't prevent the blissful sigh coming out of his lips. it catches your attention and the moment your eyes meet with his, levi's cheeks start to warm. that pretty smile that always take his breath away greets his vision, making him shy under your gaze.

"like what you see, babe?" you jokingly ask.

after staring on his untouched french toast like they're worth displaying in a museum, levi looks back to you with half-lidded eyes. "very much, baby."

now, you're the one with flaming cheeks. the little moment turns into something that induces a laugh from levi, with you huffing that your heart sometimes can't take his words. you go back to finishing your french toast before applying your flavored chapstick, levi's loving stare never faltering, lasting even when you have your first class of the day.

every once in a while, you hand levi your makeup pouch with an expectant stare. the first time you did this to him, he couldn't comprehend what your intention is at first until you tell him that you want him to be the one doing your makeup this time. he nearly backs out. he's scared of poking your eyes out but you reassure him that he will never do that.

for a person who never imagined himself in this position, the ending result becomes your favorite look. not because it's levi but because he did it so minimally that it appeals to you.

"this is for your face, right?" levi softly asks, lifting your moisturizer. he's sitting close to you, inches separating your faces. he's saying that it makes him see clearer but you know that he's being clingy without saying anything. "i just want to make sure i'm using the right products."

"levi, sweetheart," you laugh under your breath, "i already laid out everything on our bed. and in order. you got this."

he sighs. "you have another minute to think this through. we're meeting with the others in the club and i can't have you looking like my coloring book when i was three."

you place your hands over his cheeks. "relax, levi, you'll do fine!"

"fine."

opening the moisturizer, he keeps glancing at you to check if he's putting the right amount on your skin. once the small dots of cream are on your face, levi takes a deep breath and gently rubs it to cover your skin. despite having blemishes, levi thinks that your skin feels so soft underneath his calloused fingers. he'll caress your cheeks the whole day if not for your supposed call time which is in forty minutes. a sigh brushes on your face, levi cursing erwin for making them come on time. once he finishes rubbing your moisturizer on your face, he nods in approval, and kisses your lips quickly before moving on to the next step which is the primer.

you are admiring levi the whole time his face scrunches up in concentration. you're holding your laugh back when you see his lips curling in distaste, having applied more than your instructed amount. you're looking at him with a soft stare, your small smile fondly lifts up your lips. his eyes are a beautiful shade of silver, blue tones peeking through, and it makes your heart warm. his skin glows under the overhead lights of your shared bedroom, smooth to the touch. there are no words left to speak --- levi is simply the most beautiful person gracing your life, the definition of pretty and handsome combined together.

"okay, i'm starting your eyes now."

you didn't register that he's finished with applying concealer and blush on your cheeks.

levi turns to the opened palette sitting on the towel-covered duvet. "which shade are you feeling right now?"

with a cheeky grin, you answer, "how about you surprise me."

"... if i hear one complain from you later, you can always catch a ride with four-eyes on the way back."

levi eyes a specific palette with oranges and browns and starts winging it. if someone looks from the sidelines, levi looks like he's ready to murder someone. his eyes are narrowed, bottom lip in between in teeth, and face scrunched in peak concentration. he starts with that shimmery dark peach eyeshadow he finds pretty on you, then continuing with something darker on the outside corners of your eyes. one eye lasts for ten minutes but you understand since this is levi's first time applying makeup on a person. you can feel his breath tickling your face since he has scooted closer to you to perfect this.

"okay, i'm done, what's next?"

"liquid eyeliner."

that alone makes levi stop.

"then it's the mascara. your favorite part."

"... you do the eyeliner. i don't want you going blind because of me."

in short, levi is phenomenal with makeup and he doesn't even know it.

308 notes · View notes

hyogonokitsune · 4 years ago

Text

longing -- suna rintarou x reader

college!au, tw alcohol use, lil bit of fluff, lil bit of angst, some smut at the end because I can’t fucking help myself 🥴 (oral -- m and f receiving, choking, creampie, cockwarming hnnff)

11,600 words

“Hey, ‘Samu, I gotta go lie down.” You had to practically yell to hear yourself over the music blaring from the speakers. Osamu was less than two feet from you, but you might as well have been yelling from a mile away.

“Huh?”

“I said I gotta go—fuck! Where’s your room?” You had to speak directly into his ear to make yourself understood; Osamu leaned in close to respond to you.

You hadn’t had that much to drink, but the atmosphere of the party was wearing you down. The insanely loud music and the crush of so many sweaty bodies were starting to give you a headache, and you were in desperate need of a quiet place to recharge. Most of the people were crowded into the living areas of the house, so you decided to escape to your friend’s upstairs bedroom to catch your breath.

You shut his door behind you, muffling the sounds of the party downstairs, and laid down on the bed, closing your eyes. Even here, you could feel the bass pounding in your head.

The door opened then, but when you lifted your head to look, it wasn’t Osamu standing in the room. You groaned; you definitely were not in the mood to deal with a random guy.

“Can I help you?” you asked in a hard voice, sitting up to look at him better.

“Can I help you?” he replied, utterly deadpan. He walked over to the desk in the corner and plugged his phone into a charger, his back facing you. “You’re in my room.”

“What? This is Osamu’s room.”

“’Samu’s room is the last door on the left. This is the last one on the right.” He turned around to look at you, his expression indifferent.

Your eyes widened as you realized your mistake, quickly hopping off his bed. “I’m so sorry! I must have misheard him. I just needed to get away from there,” you explained, gesturing towards the door.

He smirked at you. “Too much to drink?”

“No, there are just too many people down there, felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

His expression softened at your words. “Yeah, that’s why I came up here, too.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, then,” you said, moving towards the door.

“You’re Osamu and Atsumu’s friend, right?” he said, stopping you. “They said one of their old friends was gonna come over tonight.”

Your hand dropped from the doorknob as you nodded, telling him your name.

“I’m Suna,” he said.

“Oh! You went to high school with them, right? They’ve told me about you.”

“Nothing good, I bet,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a grin.

“Almost all good things,” you responded truthfully.

“’Almost’”, he repeated, a low laugh escaping him. Suna watched you for a moment, looking as if he was thinking about something. “You can hang out here, if you want,” he said, motioning for you to sit back on the bed as he pulled out his desk chair. “As long as you don’t puke on anything.”

“I told you, I didn’t drink that much!” you huffed, but you sat down all the same. You had wanted to get away from all the noisy people downstairs, but this guy seemed laidback enough that he wouldn’t make your headache worse; besides, you were interested in talking to someone who had known the twins in high school.

Suna put on a playlist from his phone, setting the volume just loud enough to block out the house music blasting from downstairs. “You’ve known them a while, yeah?”

You nodded. “Since we were kids, but I didn’t go to Inarizaki with them.”

“Good call.”

“They’re not that bad!” you laughed. “Don’t tell them this, but I actually missed seeing them every day, so it’s nice that we ended up going to the same university.”

“Maybe I will tell them that, then they’ll spend more time harassing you instead of me.”

“Don’t you dare.”

You both laughed then, before falling into an easy silence. You shifted to get more comfortable on his bed, crossing your legs underneath you.

“Do you not like parties?” you asked.

“They’re alright,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m not too crazy about having ten thousand strangers in my house, though.”

You hummed in agreement, nodding your head. “Yeah, what’s fun about having random drunk people sweating all over you? I’d rather just hang out with a few friends, ya know?”

He snorted. “Hopefully it’ll be more like that in the future, but Atsumu really wanted to throw a big party for the start of the semester.”

You couldn’t help rolling your eyes. “He just wanted to introduce himself to as many girls as possible.”

“Yeah, that was his not-so-secret motive.”

There was another pause. Suna scrolled through his phone, searching for something.

“You wanna see some embarrassing photos of the twins?”

“Yes, absolutely I do.”

He grinned, unplugging his phone to come sit next to you on the bed. He leaned in close, tilting his screen so you could see it. “Oh, here’s a good one,” he said, trying to suppress a smile as he showed you a picture of Osamu lying face down on the ground. “He tripped when we were jogging, completely ate shit.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the image, especially with Atsumu in the foreground holding up a peace sign over his brother’s body.

Most of the photos were of the two of them fighting; having grown up with the twins, it was a little comforting to see that they acted the same around their new friends as they always had with you. You felt somewhat nostalgic at the thought.

Suna paused on a closeup photo of Atsumu, his eyes red and puffy as he tried to swat the camera away. “Ah, this was after he got rejected by a girl and he swore he wasn’t crying.”

“Oh my god, I totally remember that day!” you said, laughing hard. “’Samu called me, begging me to talk some sense into ’Tsumu because he kept whining about being turned down.”

“Seriously? God, knowing that makes this so much better,” Suna said, a crooked grin on his face.

“Please don’t tell him I told you that.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

He showed you nearly three years’ worth of pictures, pausing at the memorable ones to tell you the stories behind them. It was easy talking to him; you felt able to laugh naturally and relax around him despite being strangers, something that you weren’t able to do with most people you just met.

You didn’t realize how long you and Suna had been talking until you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket; seeing that it was a call from Osamu, you answered it.

“Y/n, did you leave?”

You were surprised by the panicky note in his voice. “No, I told you I was going upstairs.”

“Yeah? Well where the fuck are ya, ’cause I’m standing in my room and you’re not in here.”

“I’m in Suna’s room—”

Before you could finish your sentence, you heard footsteps stomp across the hall and the door flew open.

“What the hell are ya doing in here?” Osamu asked, still holding his phone up to his cheek.

“We’re fucking, obviously,” Suna deadpanned. You giggled, but Osamu didn’t look amused.

“I got the rooms mixed up, ’Samu,” you explained, getting up off the bed. “Suna’s just been telling me about your time in high school.”

“Oh, great,” Osamu said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s late, you want me to walk ya back to your dorm?”

“Can you even walk, or are you too drunk?”

“It’s Atsumu you should be worried about. He fell asleep on the couch downstairs.”

“Why does that not surprise me,” you laughed. You made your way over to Osamu, turning at the door to address Suna. “It was nice talking to you, I guess I’ll see you around.”

He was scrolling through his phone again, only giving you a brief disinterested glance. “Yeah, see you.”

You poked your head into Osamu’s room, only to find that it was empty. It was a little disappointing; you had been hoping to hang out with him for a bit, since you hadn’t had time to see much of him that week, but if he wasn’t around there was nothing to be done about it. The book you had borrowed from him a few weeks ago was already in your hand, so you placed it on his desk and turned to leave.

Stepping back into the hallway, you noticed that the door across from Osamu’s was open. You casually glanced inside as you walked past, catching Suna’s eye from where he sat in front of his laptop.

“Hey,” you said, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey,” he parroted as he took his headphones off his ears.

“I came by to return a book that Osamu lent me, but I guess he’s not around.”

“I think he’s meeting with a professor.”

“Ah.” You fell silent, and Suna turned his attention back to his laptop. “What are you reading?” you asked.

He looked up again, his expression a little sheepish. “You’re gonna think it’s boring.”

“Try me.”

He sighed. “It’s an article analyzing the influence of Shakespeare’s histories on English nationalism.”

Your face brightened as you spoke. “That was published last week, right? I bookmarked that so I could read it when I got the chance.”

Suna looked surprised at your response, his eyes widening slightly. “It’s pretty interesting so far.”

“I have to say, though, you didn’t strike me as the type to be into that kind of stuff,” you said, just a hint of a teasing tone in your voice.

His expression was blank again as he responded, “Well, I am a literature major.”

“So am I!” you said, smiling at him as you walked into his room and leaned against his desk. “I don’t think we have any classes together, though.”

“It’s a big school.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You paused, thinking of a way to keep the conversation going. “What’s your favorite Shakespeare play?”

Suna glanced up at the ceiling, bottom lip rolling between his teeth as he thought. “I guess I’d say Hamlet. There’s just so much shit going on.”

“Ah, so you love the drama of it all,” you laughed. “I think it’s a tie between Hamlet and Macbeth for me. The twist at the end is just—” you cut yourself off to do a chef’s kiss, prompting Suna to laugh a little.

“‘Macduff was from his mother’s womb untimely ripped’, such a raw line.”

“Yes, exactly!” You were beaming at him, happy to learn that you shared a common interest. Over the course of the last few weeks since you first met Suna, you hadn’t had much of a chance to get to know him, despite him being your best friends’ roommate. He usually kept to himself, and on the few occasions when he joined you and the twins to play video games or get dinner together, he didn’t talk much. He seemed like a naturally reserved person, and as you remembered this, you felt a small pang of guilt for disturbing him.

“Well, I’ll let you finish that article,” you said, getting off his desk and making for the door.

His voice stopped you before you could leave. “You can hang out here until Osamu gets back, if you want.” You turned to face him, a little surprised.

“You sure? I don’t wanna bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me,” he said. “I can finish this whenever.”

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling like this was a rare invitation coming from him. Your heart beat a little faster at the thought.

“Have you ever seen ‘Scotland, PA’?” you asked.

“Nope.”

“It’s an adaptation of Macbeth that takes place in a fast food restaurant.”

“Yeah?” he snorted, a grin appearing on his face. “You wanna watch it?” Before you could answer, he was unplugging his headphones and bringing his laptop over to you.

“Sure, if you want to,” you told him, feeling like you were really lucking out.

Suna sat on the floor at the foot of his bed, patting the spot at his side as he started searching for the movie. You sat down next to him, careful to leave a space between you.

When you watched movies with Atsumu and Osamu, their incessant talking usually got on your nerves pretty quickly, but you found that you didn’t mind listening to Suna’s comments. Watching the film together seemed to make any lingering awkwardness between you two disappear, and before long you were laughing and leaning into each other.

“Oh, I hate this part!” you groaned when you reached a certain scene, turning to press your face into Suna’s shoulder.

“Jesus, that’s fucked up,” he chuckled, grimacing as Duncan’s character fell face-first into a deep fryer.

“Then why are you laughing!” you said, lifting your head, but you couldn’t keep your own laughter from bubbling up in your chest. Suna gave you a crooked grin, your reaction only making him laugh harder.

“Oi, Sunarin! You got a girl in there or something?” Osamu’s voice floated in through the open door, his head appearing a moment later. His eyes widened when he spotted you. “What the hell are ya doin’ here?”

“Hello to you, too, ’Samu,” you said dryly. “I came here to return your book, but you were too busy to see me, I guess.”

“Took ya long enough,” he grumbled, but he grinned at you all the same. “I’m starving, you wanna grab something to eat?”

“Yeah, later,” you said, turning to look at Suna. “There’s still a bit left in this movie, you wanna finish it now?”

“Yeah,” he replied, a little surprised that you’d postpone hanging out with your friend to finish the movie with him.

“Ugh, fiiiine,” Osamu groaned, rolling his eyes at you, “guess I’ll go shower, then. But don’t take too long, I’m so fuckin’ hungry.”

“Maaaan, I can’t wait until this semester’s over,” Atsumu sighed. “I feel like it’s draggin’ by.”

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to go home for break.”

The two of you were standing on a patch of grass outside the gym, passing a volleyball back and forth. It was chilly, your breath coming out in silvery puffs, but after spending most of your time inside studying for the past week, you had both wanted to get some fresh air.

“I just know I’m gonna fail my bio final.”

“You’ll be fine, ’Tsumu,” you chuckled as you bumped the ball back to him. “You’ve been studying more in the last few days than I’ve seen you do in your entire life.”

“Hey, I studied in high school!” he huffed, his face contorting in mock annoyance as he set the ball. “Just ask Suna!”

The mention of his roommate’s name made your stomach flutter, causing you to mess up the course of the ball.

Atsumu quickly stepped to the side to get under it, giving you a nice, high set in return. “Jeez, you’ve really let your skills slip, huh?” he teased, grinning at you.

“Shut up, piss head.” Your cheeks were already pink from the cold, but you felt them heating up.

“Why don’t you play anymore anyway? I’m pretty sure there’s a women’s club on campus.”

You shrugged as you responded. “I don’t know, I don’t think I’m good enough to play for a college team.”

“Bullshit.”

You heaved a sigh. “Fine. I just think it’d be weird to play on a new team. I liked my old team, ya know? All my good memories are of them, I don’t think it would be fun to have to learn a whole new dynamic with new people. I’d feel like I was… I don’t know, like I was cheating on them or something.”

Atsumu looked at you like you’d just told him the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “That’s still bullshit.”

“Well I don’t expect you to understand, you freak. You wouldn’t care who your teammates are, as long as you get to play volleyball.” You gave him a smile as you passed him the ball. “I still have fun playing with you and ’Samu, though.”

“You better. If that ever changed, I’d have to rethink this whole friendship.”

You both laughed, but a part of you wondered how serious he really was.

“Fuck, okay my fingers are actually starting to go numb. Can we go inside now?” you asked, shoving your bright red hands into your jacket pockets.

“Yeah, you wanna grab some dinner?”

“Definitely.”

The two of you set off for the campus dining hall, huddled close together for warmth. The sun was just beginning to set, making the bare trees cast long, spindly shadows on the path in front of you. You quickened your pace, shivering a little.

The dining hall was just beginning to fill up; you and Atsumu managed to grab a table near the back of the room before all the spots were taken. You wrapped your freezing hands around your bowl of soup, savoring the warmth. Atsumu wasted no time digging into his own meal.

“You might wanna wipe that rice off your face, ’Tsumu,” you told him in a low voice, “that girl over there is checking you out.”

“Huh?” he asked, his mouth full. His eyes glanced over to the direction where you were tilting your head. “Eh, whatever.”

You rolled your eyes, a small smile on your face. “You still hooking up with that girl from your stats class?”

“Yeah, I actually really like her,” he said, swallowing a massive bite of food. “She’s sweet, and funny. And she’s really good at—”

“Stop,” you said, holding up a hand. “I really don’t wanna know.”

He smirked at you. “I was gonna say helping me study. Jeez, what were you thinking about?”

You bit your lip, trying not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you smile.

“What about you? You been seeing anyone?”

“You know damn well the only guys I hang out with are you and ’Samu.”

“And Suna,” he added. You took a big gulp of your soup so you wouldn’t have to say anything in response. He was right, though; lately you had been spending more time with Suna, even without the twins around. “I’m kinda surprised at Suna, actually,” Atsumu continued.

“What, that he’s hanging out with me?”

“No, that he’s not hanging out with any other girls.”

Your brow furrowed a little. You had assumed that Suna got around; he was handsome, after all, and he had that mysterious, reticent personality that most girls went crazy for.

“I mean, back in high school he was kinda known for just having a ton of hookups. I figured he’d keep that up in college. I don’t know, maybe he’s too busy now,” Atsumu mused.

You mulled it over in your head. It seemed to you like Suna had more free time now than he would have had in high school; almost every time you stopped by their house, he was either in his room reading or listening to music, or else playing games with the twins. You were pretty sure he could have fit in a hookup or two if he wanted.

“Maybe he just wants to focus on his classes,” you offered, but it didn’t sound realistic even as you said it.

Atsumu snorted. “Yeah, like he’s gonna trade pussy for his GPA.”

“Charming, ’Tsumu,” you sighed. “It’s not really any of our business what Suna gets up to, though.”

“I’m just saying, it’s a little weird for him.” Atsumu’s arm stretched out to steal some food from your tray. “Maybe he’s met someone he really likes.”

His words made your stomach turn over, but you weren’t entirely sure why.

A few days into the spring semester, both Atsumu and Osamu came down with nasty colds. By the time the weekend rolled around, they were completely incapacitated, unable to do anything but huddle up together on the couch, sniffling sadly.

You had taken pity on your friends, so on Saturday night (after receiving several dramatic texts from Atsumu that he was dying), you decided to go over to their house to cook them dinner. The twins were curled up on the couch watching a movie, wrapped in thick blankets with used tissues scattered around the coffee table in front of them. From where you stood in the kitchen prepping ingredients, you had a clear view of them over the counter; the sight of them looking so sorry for themselves reminded you of all the times you had gone over their house to keep them company when they got sick as kids. You smiled to yourself, thinking of those fond memories.

“Y/n,” Atsumu whined from the living room, his blanket pulled up over the top of his head. “I don’t feel good.”

“I know, baby. Dinner will be ready soon.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw him tighten the blanket around himself, a dopey grin on his face. “Y/n called me ‘baby’,” he said happily.

“Simp,” Osamu muttered under his breath.

Atsumu stuck a leg out from under his blanket to kick his brother. “Don’t be jealous, you scrub!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at them; their usual bickering sounded especially cute when their voices were so congested.

“Even when you’re sick you guys can’t shut up.” Suna had come downstairs, rubbing his eyes as he walked into the kitchen.

“Sunarin! Are you finally gonna hang out with us?” Atsumu asked excitedly.

“Absolutely not. I don’t wanna catch whatever weird disease you guys have—”

“You make us sound so disgusting,” Osamu grumbled.

“I just came down to get food,” Suna continued, grabbing a Cup Noodle from the cupboard.

“Oh no you’re not,” you said, snatching it out of his hands. “I’m making dinner for you guys.”

Suna’s eyes widened a little in surprise, but he didn’t object. Instead, he leaned back against the counter, watching as you dried the vegetables.

“Suna, could you chop up the mushrooms for me?” you asked. “Oh, but wash your hands first, please!”

Without saying a word, he did as you asked. You could hear Atsumu snickering from the couch.

“Talk about a simp. Y/n actually got Sunarin to help out in the kitchen,” he said, smirking. Suna balled up the paper towel he was using to dry his hands and chucked it at Atsumu’s head.

“You’ve got snot dripping down your face, dude.”

“Shut up!” Atsumu cried, sniffling as he burrowed deeper into his blanket.

With Suna’s help, prepping the ingredients went twice as fast. You expected him to leave the kitchen once it was done, but to your surprise he stayed, leaning against the counter again to watch you as you cooked. Occasionally he asked you a question about what you were doing.

“The chicken takes a little longer to cook than the veggies, so I’m adding that to the broth first,” you explained. “The order you add things affects the flavor, too.”

“How many times have I offered to teach ya to cook, Sunarin?” Osamu called from the other room. “Guess ya only wanna learn when Y/n’s doin’ the teaching.”

Suna glared at him over his shoulder before turning his attention back to what you were doing. “I didn’t really have to know how before.”

“It’s never too late to learn,” you reassured him.

“Nothin’ sexier than a man who knows how to cook!” Osamu yelled, grinning. Suna ignored him, but you noticed the tips of his ears turning pink.

When the food was nearly done, you asked Osamu to clear a space on the coffee table. With Suna’s help, you carried over the meal you had cooked together, setting down the steaming bowls of soup, rice, and vegetables in front of the twins.

“My nose is all stuffed up, but this still smells so good,” Atsumu said, eyes closed as he sniffed the air.

“Yeah, your cooking’s always the best, Y/n,” Osamu agreed as he reached out with both hands for a bowl of soup.

“Oh, I picked up your favorite tea on the way over here, too,” you said, going back to the kitchen.

“What?! You really are the best!” Atsumu wailed. You walked back into the living room, carrying two mugs in each hand. “What did we ever do to deserve you?”

“It’s a mystery to me,” you replied, but the smile on your face was gentle as you handed the twins their tea. You passed the third mug to Suna, and the look he gave you was nothing short of tender as you sat next to him on the floor. The sight of it made your heart pound in your chest.

When you had all finished eating, you and Suna carried the dishes back to the kitchen while the twins dozed on the couch. After packing up the leftovers, you started washing the dishes and cooking pots, with Suna drying and putting them away.

“Thanks for making dinner for us,” he said quietly, not making eye contact with you.

“Of course,” you said, offering him a smile. “I don’t mind doing it.”

“You must really like those two idiots, if you’re willing to do so much for them.”

You looked over the counter into the living room where the twins were passed out on the couch. Osamu was curled up on his side, his head leaning against the armrest and blanket tucked up tight around him; Atsumu had his head thrown back, mouth hanging open as he snored softly. The sight of them sleeping so peacefully made a feeling of warmth spread throughout your chest.

“I’ve known them since we were three,” you told Suna, gaze still pointed towards the twins. “They’re like brothers to me.” You paused for a moment, thinking, before turning your attention back to the dishes in the sink. “I think it’s normal to want to do things for the people you care about.”

You caught Suna’s eye as you looked up to pass him a freshly-washed plate. He was staring at you intently, brows slightly furrowed, but you couldn’t quite name the expression on his face.

It came as no surprise when, a few days after taking care of the twins, you came down with a bad cold of your own. You managed to suffer through your classes and had just returned to your room to sleep for the rest of the day when, less than five minutes after changing into your pajamas and climbing into bed, there was a knock at your door.

“It’s open,” you called out, thinking it was one of the girls from your floor coming to check on you.

When Suna stepped into your room, you nearly fell in your haste to jump out of bed.

“Sorry, was I not supposed to come in?” he asked as you disentangled yourself from the blankets.

“No, I just wasn’t expecting it to be you,” you told him. You grabbed a hoodie from your closet and quickly pulled it on over your tank top, attempting to hide the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Oh,” was all he said. The two of you stood there staring at each other awkwardly for a moment, before you noticed the bag he was holding in his hand.

“What’s that?” you asked, pointing at it.

Suna blinked as if he had suddenly remembered why he was there. “The guys told me you weren’t feeling well,” he said, setting the bag down on your desk and pulling a container out of it, “so I thought I’d bring you some soup.” His voice got softer at the end, and you noticed a slight blush on his cheeks as he held it out to you.

He must have made it and immediately brought it over to your dorm, because the container was still hot to the touch. You struggled to keep your lower lip from shaking at the sheer thoughtfulness of it. “That’s really sweet, Suna. Thank you.”

“It’s probably not nearly as good as yours, but…” his voice trailed off. He scratched at the back of his head, the blush deepening on his face. “I tried to do what you showed me the other night.”

“Do you wanna have some with me?” you asked, but you were already taking down two bowls from the shelf above your desk and pouring out a serving for each of you, before putting the rest in your mini fridge. You ate a spoonful, eyes closing as you savored the taste. “Mmm, this is really good, Sunarin!” you smiled at him.

“It’s not bad,” he said, grinning a little bit.

“It’s really good for your first try!” you pressed on. “You know, if you want more practice, you can cook for me anytime.”

He snorted. “Yeah, that’d be a pretty sweet deal for you. But what would I get out of it?”

“Duh, you’d get to spend more time with me.”

“Oh, then pass.”

“Suna!” You pretended to pout, earning a genuine laugh from him. It felt good to joke around with him again, after not being in contact with him at all over the winter break.

“Do you wanna hang out for a bit?” he asked when you had finished eating, setting his empty bowl on your desk. “Or were you just planning on sleeping for the rest of the day?”

You were a little taken aback at his question, since he had gone out of his way to avoid Atsumu and Osamu when they were sick. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll catch whatever I have?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “If I was gonna catch it, I would have caught it from Thing 1 and Thing 2 already.” His expression faltered a little. “We don’t have to if you don’t want—”

“No, I do!” you said, a little too quickly in your eagerness to not let this chance slip through your fingers. “I just don’t want to get you sick, that’s all.”

“I’ll be fine.” Suna rolled his eyes, smiling. “You wanna watch a movie? I’ll let you choose, since you’re sick.”

“Oh, how magnanimous of you,” you teased as you carried your laptop over to your bed. You sat down, propped up against the pillows, and shifted to the side so Suna could sit next to you. “Can we watch ‘The Devil Wears Prada’?”

“Sure.”

“I feel like you’d kin Miranda Priestly.”

“I will leave this room, right now,” he threatened, beginning to stand up.

“No, no! I was only joking!” you laughed, grabbing his arm and pulling him back down. He rubbed at his face, but you could see his slight smile hidden behind his hand.

The movie was almost over before Suna realized that you had fallen asleep on his shoulder. When he first felt your head lean against him, the pounding of his heart had prevented him from daring to look at your face, but after several of his comments had gone ignored, he finally peered down at you, surprised to see your eyes closed. When the credits rolled, he had intended to get up and let you rest, but when he tried to move, your body shifted to turn towards him, an arm reaching out to wrap around his torso.

“Rin,” you murmured in your sleep, and the sound of your voice saying his name caused all of his resolve to disappear.

With you sleeping so peacefully, your warm body pressed up against his, Suna couldn’t bring himself to risk accidentally waking you up. The sun had already set, making your room dark and cozy, and so he figured he could wait there for a little bit until you woke up from your nap. Lifting one of his arms to put it around your shoulders, he closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, sunlight was streaming in through the window. He blinked blearily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His movements prompted you to wake up, your gaze slowly focusing to find yourself leaning on his chest like a pillow.

“Guess we were both more tired than we thought,” he said, his voice raspy from sleep.

“Mmph,” you mumbled, noticing a damp spot on his shirt from where you had drooled on him. God, how embarrassing.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly, shifting to look down at you.

“A little better,” you said. Sitting up properly, you rubbed at your face, attempting to hide your blush from him. “Sorry that I fell asleep on you.”

“It’s okay,” he said, smiling a little before his face shifted into a more teasing expression. “Did you know that you mumble in your sleep?”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands even more. “Yeah, I’m aware.”

“It’s kinda cute.”

“Please don’t make fun of me this early in the morning.”

Suna pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. “Ugh… I’ve got class at 9:45. I gotta go home to shower and get ready before then.” He stood up and stretched his arms over his head. You lowered your hands from your face just in time to catch a glimpse of his toned stomach as his shirt lifted up; the sight of it made your cheeks burn anew, your head turning quickly so he wouldn’t notice you staring.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, Y/n,” he said, putting on his coat.

“Thanks again for coming over,” you said, forcing yourself to look him in the eye.

He grinned a little sheepishly as he made his way to the door. “Well, ya know… you gotta do things for the people you care about.”

Stepping out into the brisk early springtime air, you spotted a familiar head of dark hair a few yards in front of you.

“Hey, Sunarin!” you called out, waving at him when he turned around. He stopped walking to allow you to catch up with him. “Are you done with class for the day?”

“Yeah, but I’ve got practice.”

“Mind if I walk with you?”

He didn’t respond, but the slight shrug of his shoulders as he took off again told you that he wasn’t bothered by your company. You walked side by side, your hands brushing against each other’s occasionally, each brief contact setting off butterflies in your stomach. If it had any effect on Suna, he didn’t let it show.

“Have you thought about what classes you’re gonna take next semester?” you asked.

“Not really,” he said. “Why, you gonna start stalking me?” he added, lips quirking up into a grin.

“Just making conversation,” you grumbled, turning your face so he wouldn’t see your blush.

“Y/n!”

You looked up in the direction the voice came from to see a guy from one of your classes making his way over to you. You greeted him politely, and he launched into a conversation about the latest paper you had been assigned, falling into step beside you.

“Are you doing anything now? You wanna go get dinner with me?” he asked eventually.

“Oh, I can’t, actually,” you told him. “I have plans with a friend tonight.”

His face fell a little, but he quickly bounced back. “That’s alright, some other time maybe.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know what you’re doing for spring break yet?”

“I’m not really sure, I’ll probably just stay on campus,” you said.

“Oh, me too!” he said, grinning at you. “Maybe we could get together then.”

You had reached a branch in the path, and he turned right to continue towards the dining hall.

“See ya around!” he said with a wave.

You waved back, noticing that Suna’s eyes lingered on the other guy’s back as he walked away.

“That dude likes you,” he said in a deadpan voice.

“Huh?”

“He was trying to ask you out, dumbass.”

“What? No he wasn’t. I don’t think he’d do that in front of you.”

“Well, if he asks you again you should say yes.” Suna was smirking at you, but his voice was devoid of any emotion.

His words pricked at your heart, making your chest feel tight. The idea of him encouraging you to go out with someone else was a little upsetting. You turned your head away from him.

“Yeah, maybe,” you said absentmindedly. In truth, you had no interest in going out with that other guy, but Suna’s comment had left you unsure of what to say.

His brows creased a bit. Turning back to look at him, you saw that his gaze was significantly colder than it had been before. You opened your mouth to ask him what was wrong, but he cut you off before you could.

“I’m gonna be late for practice,” he said flatly, walking off quickly and leaving you to stand alone on the path.

After that day, things between you and Suna were different. He was suddenly making himself even more scarce than usual, and during the few times when you managed to see him, he was quieter than before. You couldn’t think of what would make him act so coldly towards you, and the possible explanations you came up with in your mind only made you feel worse.

You were waiting outside the gym one evening for Atsumu and Suna to get out of practice. When you saw them walking out the door you went over to greet them, handing over the bag of pork buns you had picked up at the convenience store.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Atsumu said, gratefully accepting the food you offered him; Suna, however, stepped away before you could pass it to him.

“Sorry, I’ve got stuff to do,” he said cryptically before turning from you.

“We were planning on playing Smash later, are you gonna be around?” you asked.

“Probably not,” was all he said, waving one hand over his shoulder as he walked away.

Stung, you turned to Atsumu. “Suna’s been avoiding me, right? I haven’t been imagining that?”

Mouth full of pork bun, he shook his head. Swallowing thickly, he said, “Nope, he’s definitely been MIA lately. I don’t know why, though.” Seeing the way you bit your lower lip in worry, he was quick to speak again. “I’m sure it’s got nothin’ to do with you! Sunarin’s probably just busy.”

“Do you think he’s seeing someone?” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking.

“Nah, if he was I’d know about it. He’s never brought anyone back to the house.” He crammed half a pork bun into his mouth, struggling to chew it. “Honestly, he might just be a little homesick.”

“What?” It was hard to imagine someone like Suna being homesick; considering he spent so much time on his own, you didn’t think of him as the type of person to miss anyone.

“I mean, he told me he’s goin’ home for spring break to spend time with his sister,” Atsumu explained. “He must really miss her.”

You couldn’t help but feel disappointed at the news. A part of you had hoped that Suna’s avoidance of you actually was due to his busy schedule, and you had been looking forward to your spring break as the perfect opportunity to get some quality time with him. The fact that he wasn’t going to be there confirmed your doubts, proving, in your mind at least, that he really didn’t want to be around you anymore.

“You got any more of these?” Atsumu’s voice brought you out of your own thoughts.

“Yeah, here,” you said, giving him the bag of pork buns intended for Suna.

He continued chattering the whole walk back to the house, but you hardly processed a word. You were too busy wondering about what you could have possibly done to make Suna no longer want to be your friend.

It had been several weeks since you had spent any time with Suna, aside from the brief moments when you saw each other at the house when you were visiting the twins, but he always gave an excuse as to why he couldn’t hang around. You knew he was a private person, but his sudden avoidance of you hurt twice as much after he had seemed to be getting more comfortable around you. Several times you had texted him to ask if he wanted to get food with you or watch a movie together, but he either claimed he was too busy with classes, or ignored you altogether. Eventually, you gave up trying to contact him.

But that didn’t stop your heart from fluttering when you did see him in person. You found yourself living for the moments when you would be sitting in the living room with Osamu or Atsumu, and Suna would come downstairs, giving you a quick nod before rushing out the door; or when you would be hanging out in Osamu’s room and Suna would walk down the hallway, locking eyes with you for half a second before going into his own room and shutting the door behind him. Each time you hoped he would stop and actually say something to you, and each time you were left disappointed.

So it came as a surprise when, one day when you and Osamu were in his kitchen making onigiri together, Suna came downstairs and actually lingered for a bit, even after spotting you. Not wanting to scare him off, you bit your tongue as he sat on the counter, watching you form the rice balls with your hands.

“Those look good,” he said; you weren’t sure if he was addressing you or Osamu.

“Here,” Osamu said, putting some on a plate and passing it to his friend. “You headin’ out soon?”

Suna nodded, his mouth full of rice. “Yeah, I’ve gotta meet with my advisor.”

“We’re going out to eat later, you should come. You haven’t hung out with us in a while.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been kinda flakey lately,” he said, his tone apologetic.

You couldn’t help yourself. Looking him in the eye, you spoke. “We’ve missed you, Rintarou. It’s not as fun without you around.”

“Gee, thanks,” Osamu muttered, but you hardly heard him. For the first time in weeks, Suna was looking directly at you, his gaze almost soft.

“Can’t imagine how rough it must be for you to have to spend time with these two goons,” he said, grinning.

“I’m standing right here, man,” Osamu said, his voice sounding only slightly annoyed.

You laughed, and to your amazement Suna returned it. You could feel your heart pounding against your ribs, hopeful that this awkward tension between you two was finally over.

“Text me when you guys are leaving, okay?” he said, hopping down off the counter and making for the front door. “I’ll meet you there.”

You couldn’t keep the giddy smile off your face even after he left. The thought of spending time with him again was almost too much for you.

“I wish you guys would just fuckin’ kiss already,” Osamu griped, his hands still deftly forming perfectly-shaped onigiri.

“Huh?!” you spluttered, nearly choking as his words sank in. “Who?”

“You and Sunarin, you clown. Do ya have any idea how painful it’s been watchin’ you two idiots for the past few months? Jesus, even ’Tsumu noticed.”

“Noticed what?”

“That you guys like each other!”

“I don’t—wha—,” you fumbled over your words, not entirely sure what to say. “Suna doesn’t like me!”

“Uh huh, yeah, okay. Y/n, the man made you a whole-ass pot of soup when you were sick. I’ve known him for years and he won’t even let me borrow his phone charger.”

“If he likes me, then why has he spent the last two months completely ignoring me?”

“Because Rintarou has the emotional intelligence of a fuckin’ cantaloupe.” Osamu finally turned to look at you, his hands resting on his hips. “Look, he’s never actually liked someone before—not for real, anyway—so I don’t think he knows what to do about you. He’s never gonna fess up and tell you how he feels, so his next best option is to just avoid you entirely. But he’s been missing you, real bad. I can tell.”

“So I’m supposed to be the one to tell him?”

Osamu smirked at you. “So you actually like him?”

You paused for a moment, sucking in a breath. “Yeah, I like him.”

It was the first time you had admitted it even to yourself. A wave of relief immediately washed over you, as if you had been holding onto a secret that you no longer had to hide.

Ignoring the blush you felt creeping onto your face, you forced yourself to look at your friend.

“But isn’t that weird for you? I mean, we’re your best friends, would you really be okay with it if we started dating?”

Osamu glanced up as he thought about it, taking in a deep breath and exhaling loudly. “It’d be a little weird at first, but I’d get used to it. But it doesn’t matter how I feel about it.” He looked back down at you. “If you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

“’Samu,” you wailed, “you’re gonna make me cry.”

“So, you gonna tell him or what?”

“I don’t know… what if he doesn’t feel that way about me?”

“He definitely does.”

“Well, maybe it’s just not a good idea for us to date… I mean, neither of us has ever been in a real relationship before, what if we just crash and burn?”

Osamu took in another deep breath, looking as if he was preparing himself for something unpleasant. “Look, you know I’m not a sappy guy, and I feel gross even saying this, but honestly, you and Rintarou are two of the most compatible people I’ve ever met. Even I can see how cute you guys are together. You’d be stupid not to date him.”

“Seriously, ’Samu, you’re actually gonna make me cry.”

“Whatever,” he said, turning back to make more onigiri. “Just hurry up and confess already, I miss hangin’ out with my friends.”

You waited until Atsumu and Osamu were out of the house; that way, if things didn’t go well, you could quietly slip away to collect your dignity without having to answer any questions from them first.

You stood in Suna’s doorway, heart pounding furiously in your chest as you steeled yourself for what you were about to do. He was sitting on his bed with his headphones on, looking at something on his laptop, but when you knocked on the door frame he glanced up, noticing you for the first time.

“Hey, Rintarou,” you said, your voice a little shaky. “Can we talk?”

He took his headphones off and shut his laptop, setting it to the side and scooting forward to sit on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, of course. What’s up?”

Forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you stepped into his room and sat down next to him. He was looking at you intently, a small crease between his brows. You glanced down at your lap, fingers twisting nervously, before looking at his face again. If you weren’t honest with him now, you never would be.

“I like you,” you said bluntly, “more than just a friend.” Suna’s lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way,” you continued, really struggling now to hold his gaze. “I just… I had to tell you. And I’m sorry if that makes things weird between us, that’s not what I want. Your friendship means a lot to me and I don’t want to lose that, so even if you don’t—”

“Y/n.”

Your words caught in your throat, afraid of what he was about to say.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice was impossibly soft, the question sounding so delicate as it fell past his lips.

You could have sworn your heart stopped beating for a moment. You nodded your head. “Yes.”

Suna’s hand reached up to cup your cheek before he leaned in, agonizingly slowly, to press his mouth to yours. His lips were so soft, his touch incredibly gentle. Placing both hands on the back of his neck, you melted into him, sighing as his other arm wrapped around your waist to pull you in closer. You could feel him grinning against your lips just before he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours.

“I like you, too,” he said softly.

Returning his smile, you leaned in to fit your mouth to his again, relishing the way it felt to be held by him, to have him kiss you so tenderly. It took all of your willpower to pull away from him.

“Rin, I have to go,” you whispered against his lips.

“What?” His expression was puzzled as you abruptly stood up.

“I have class in ten minutes,” you explained, making your way to the door.

“So you’re just gonna drop that on me and then dip?”

You turned to look at him over your shoulder, grinning. “Yup.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, but the smile was still on his face even as you left.

The first few weeks after you and Suna started dating passed by in a blur. The heartache you had felt when he kept his distance from you had been replaced by a constant feeling of joy at the knowledge that you were together now. You still got butterflies every time you saw him, your heart melting each time you pressed a kiss into his cheek and saw a blush creep onto his face.

The only complaint you had was that after three weeks, you and Suna still hadn’t slept together. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried, but there was always something that prevented you from actually succeeding: he was too exhausted after finishing volleyball practice; you both had term papers to work on; someone on your floor burnt popcorn in the microwave, setting off the fire alarm. The closest you two came to doing anything was one night when you thought you had the house to yourselves. You and Suna were making out on his bed, and he was just about to take off your shirt when Atsumu suddenly burst into the room to ask if they were all out of laundry detergent. He had quickly left, smirking, after realizing what he was interrupting, but you were too embarrassed to continue after he closed the door.

At this point, it had been over a year since you last had sex, and you were starting to go a little crazy. You were pretty sure Suna knew it, too, based on the smirks he gave you when he happened to catch the way you would stare at him periodically. After the length of time it took for you two to finally admit your feelings for each other, it was incredibly frustrating that the universe seemed to be keeping you apart again.

The end of the semester rolled around, and the twins decided to throw another big party before finals week. You managed to convince Suna to not hide in his room the entire time, and to your amazement he seemed to be having a good time, laughing in the corner with some friends from the volleyball team.

You were sitting on the couch next to Osamu, slowly sipping the beer in your hand. He was talking to you about your plans for the summer, but you couldn’t stop your attention from drifting over to your boyfriend every once in a while, grinning at him each time you happened to catch his eye.

“Our parents are renting that beach house for two weeks in July, you wanna come with us again?” Osamu asked, drawing your gaze back to his face.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, that sounds fun,” you said, a little distracted.

“Your boyfriend can come, too, of course,” he smirked.

“Shut up,” you groaned, trying to hide your blushing face by downing the rest of your drink.

“Bet you’re gonna miss him, yeah? Three months is a long time to be apart from your lover.”

“I swear to god, ’Samu, if you don’t shut the fuck up…” you grumbled, but you couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face at your friend’s teasing.

Osamu’s attention was stolen then by someone asking him to go do shots, so you got up and walked to the kitchen by yourself to throw out your empty beer bottle. After you tossed it in the bin, you felt warm hands encircle your waist and a familiar voice whispered into your ear.

“It’s getting kinda crowded down here, you wanna go upstairs?” Suna’s warm breath tickled your ear, making you shiver in his arms. Turning around to face him, you gave him a quick kiss before taking him by the hand and leading the way to the stairs.

Closing his bedroom door muffled the sounds of the party, and you were able to breathe easier now that you were alone with him. Suna scrolled through his phone briefly before finding the playlist he was searching for, setting his phone down once the music started playing.

“Hey,” you said, grinning as you recognized the song, “this is the same playlist that you put on the night we met.”

He took a few steps towards you, arms snaking around your waist to pull you in close. “I know,” he said simply before leaning down to kiss you. You allowed him to deepen it, lips parting for his tongue, hands grasping at the fabric of his shirt.

Without breaking away, Suna guided you to his bed, gently laying you down and crawling on top of you, his knee coming up to press between your legs. You moaned into his mouth, feeling him grin against you. Breathing hard, you pulled his shirt over his head, leaning back so that you could look at him. You had known he was fit from all the times your body had been pressed against his, but seeing his muscular form with your own eyes was different. You squirmed under him, feeling your arousal growing between your thighs.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time, Y/n,” he whispered, leaning down to press kisses into your neck.

“I know,” you murmured.

“Yeah?” He pulled your shirt off of you, warm hands burning into your skin. “Do you know what I’m gonna do next?” he teased in a low voice, mouth moving down over your collarbones as his hands came up to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples through your bra.

“Rin,” you whined when he pulled down the fabric to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, his other hand coming to rest between your thighs, groaning against your skin when he felt the wetness seeping through your shorts.

“Yeah, baby?” He was kissing a line down your stomach, goosebumps rising in his wake. He tugged off your shorts and panties together as you sat up to unhook your bra, tossing it onto the floor without taking your eyes off his face. Your hands immediately moved to the waistband of his pants, unbuttoning them as you planted sloppy kisses across his chest. He wriggled out of them and threw them to the side, before wrapping a hand around each of your legs and spreading them apart. “Is this what you wanted?” he asked, lips gliding over the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me, baby. I know how badly you want this.”

You whimpered, fingers running through his hair and gripping tightly. His warm breath ghosted over your skin, making you shiver again. A loud moan escaped you when he finally pressed his tongue against your pussy, running slowly over your folds and circling around your clit before moving back down. He repeated the motion, making your breath come out in short pants as your fingers tangled themselves further in his hair.

“God, you taste so sweet,” he moaned against you. His hands pressed down on your hipbones, pinning you in place as you started trembling around him, small whimpers leaving your mouth the closer you came to your release. You drew your legs up, the heel of one of your feet resting on his back as your spine arched, pressing into his mouth.

“Fuck, Rin, I’m so close,” you gasped out. He hummed, hands reaching up to trace his fingertips along your sides. You started moving your hips and he stilled, holding his tongue out for you to grind against. Within seconds you were cumming, legs shaking and nails digging almost painfully into his scalp. He kept his mouth open to allow you to ride out your high, gaze trained on your face.

“You’re so cute, baby,” he murmured, moving to plant a row of kisses up your throat and over your jaw. “So fucking cute.” His lips fitted against yours as he grinded into you, the friction against your clit making you gasp.

“Rin,” you whispered, pulling away to look in his eyes, “lie down.”

He rolled off of you, reaching out with both hands to pull you on top of him. You kissed him once, teasingly, before sitting up and gazing down at him. With one finger, you traced a line from his throat down over his chest and stomach, coming to rest where the skin dipped down between his hipbones, smiling to yourself at the way he shivered from your touch. Hooking your fingers underneath the waistband of his boxers, you gently tugged them off of him, watching the way his thick cock sprang out to slap against his abs. Heart pounding excitedly, you dragged your nails over the top of his thigh, pleased when his muscles tensed beneath you.

“Don’t tease me, baby,” he groaned, fingers digging into your arm. “I’ve had to wait so long for this.”

You would have been content to make him wait even longer, wanting to hear him begging you to touch him, but the pleading look in his eyes softened your resolve. “I know,” you purred, leaning down to run your tongue along the underside of his shaft, grinning to yourself when you heard his sharp inhale. You swirled your tongue around the tip, letting your spit run down his length, before wrapping your lips around his cock.

Soft moans and pants reached your ears as you slowly took all of him into your mouth. When the head of his cock hit the back of your throat you paused, tears forming at the corners of your eyes from the stretch of your jaw. You slid your tongue along his cock as you hummed lightly, eliciting a loud groan from him. Your hand came to grip his cock as you started bobbing your head up and down, moving in tandem with your mouth. Suna tilted his head to watch you, his chest rising and falling heavily. Keeping your eyes on his face, your mouth left his cock with a wet pop and moved down to suck on his balls, your hand continuing to jerk him off.

“F-fuck,” he moaned, throwing his head back against the pillow. His fingers entwined themselves in your hair, gripping firmly, but you had reached the limit of your patience. You crawled back on top of him, thighs planted on either side of his hips, and used your hand to drag his cock along the folds of your cunt.

“I wanna feel you, Rin,” you said breathlessly as his hands gripped your hips. “Wanna feel you inside me.”

Pressing his tip into you, you slowly sank down onto him, loving the way his mouth fell open as you took him completely inside you. The stretch made you gasp, head falling forward to rest against the crook of his neck. You kissed the skin just below his ear as you started grinding your hips against him, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. The sensation on your clit made you moan into his skin.

“Does that feel good, baby?” he whispered.

“Feels good,” you whimpered, your pace quickening. “S-so good.”

“Oh fuck, you’re so tight…”

The knot in your stomach was rapidly tightening. A few more motions were all it took for you to be cumming again; you pressed your lips against Suna’s, tongue reaching into his mouth as your orgasm washed over you.

When your hips stilled, he lifted you off of him and flipped you over onto your back, nipping at the skin of your neck as he repositioned himself between your legs. With a groan, he sank into you again, hips snapping against you urgently. Your body already felt worn out, but the sensation of him fucking you so deeply had you clawing at his back, desperately trying to pull him closer to you. He lifted your trembling legs onto his shoulders, the new angle of his cock thrusting into you making you cry out.

“Is that your spot, baby?” he crooned, repeatedly hitting the place that made your breath catch in your throat.

“Yes, yes, yes, right there, Rin, p-please don’t stop!” you babbled. One of your hands reached out to grab his and bring it to your neck, eyes pleading with him.

His fingers tightened around your throat. “Fuck, you look so cute taking my cock like that. You gonna cum again, pretty girl? Gonna cum all over my cock for me?”

His grip on your throat was making you lightheaded, the friction against your clit sending pleasant vibrations throughout your entire body. The spot his cock was hitting inside your pussy had you hurtling towards the edge again, eyes rolling back as you incoherently begged him not to stop.

“Rin, I-I’m cumming—fuck, fuck, fuck,” you practically sobbed as your pussy clenched around him again. He released his hold on your throat, moving his hand up to lift your jaw and kiss you deeply, relishing when you moaned into his mouth. Your lips parted and he rested his forehead against yours, gazing into your eyes, continuing to pound into you as you came. His breath stuttered as his thrusts grew more erratic, his face flushed as his cock throbbed inside you, hot cum filling your cunt.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he murmured against your lips before kissing you again, slower than before. He pulled out and laid down beside you, breathing hard. You reached up to brush the loose strands of hair out of his face, fingers running over his cheekbones.

“Why did we wait so long to do this,” you asked, making him laugh.

“We’re so fucking stupid,” he said with a grin.

You exhaled happily, moving closer to him and nestling your head against his chest. His arm reached out to wrap around you and press his palm into your spine to pull you closer. He was warm, but your uncovered body shivered against the chill in the air, goosebumps rising along your skin.

“Here, cutie,” he said, shifting so that he could pull the comforter over you. “Comfy?”

“Hmm,” you hummed, closing your eyes and pressing a kiss into his collarbone.

With Rin’s arm around you and his steady heartbeat in your ear, you fell asleep almost instantly, feeling more content than you had in a long time.

You woke up before Suna. He had moved in his sleep, now lying on his back with one arm outstretched underneath your head. You watched him for a moment, smiling at the calm expression on his face, before climbing out of bed slowly, careful not to disturb him. Putting on your panties and one of Suna’s oversized t-shirts, you slipped out the door to walk to the bathroom down the hall.

Osamu and Atsumu’s doors were still closed, a fact that you were grateful for when you reached the bathroom and saw your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was a tangled mess, your neck littered with little love bites, damning indicators of what you had been up to the night before. Splashing your face with water, you tried to scrub off the smeared remnants of yesterday’s makeup. Satisfied when you no longer looked like you spent the night in a club, you crept back into your boyfriend’s room.

“Hey,” Suna mumbled when you stepped back through the doorway, propping himself up on one elbow and rubbing his eyes with the other hand.

“Hey.” You smiled at him as you shut the door.

“Take those clothes off and come back to bed.”

You giggled, shrugging out of your clothes and stepping towards his outstretched arms. He pulled you into a tight embrace, peppering your face with kisses. He settled you down on your side next to him, pulling your thigh up to rest on his hip.

“Rin!” you squealed when you felt the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance.

“I just wanna be inside you, baby,” he murmured. His touch had already made you wet, allowing his cock to slide into you easily. You sighed as his hips pressed up against yours.

His lips met with yours, his kiss achingly sweet. “I don’t ever want you to leave this bed,” he breathed out. You smiled against his lips, fingers running through his soft hair. He shifted his hips then, and the sensation was too much for you.

“O-oh,” you whimpered as your pussy tightened around him.

“Are you cumming?” he asked, the corner of his lips quirking up into a grin.

“Sh-shut up.”

He didn’t say anything else, simply tightening his arms around you and kissing you again. The two of you lay like that for a while, slipping into a peaceful state of half-sleep, until the sound of a distant door being flung open pulled you back.

“Fuck,” Suna mumbled under his breath. Not a second later, a loud knock sounded from the other side of his door.

“Sunariiiiin,” Atsumu’s voiced whined from the hallway. “Are you guys up yet?”

“Is that door locked?” Suna whispered to you. Commending yourself for your earlier foresight, you nodded. “Good.”

“Suna! Y/n!” He pounded on the door. “I know you guys can hear me, come on!”

“I gotta get my own place,” Suna grumbled, his eyes still closed. You giggled, and when the knocking on the door stopped you snuggled in closer to him, ready to go back to sleep.

Until your phone started ringing.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you groaned, reaching out to grab it from the nightstand. “What do you want, Atsumu?”

“Aha! I knew you were awake!” He sounded very pleased with himself for succeeding in getting you to talk to him. “Can you make me pancakes?”

There was a pause as his question sank in. Holding your phone to your head and staring at Suna, you pulled away from him and sat up, eliciting a low groan from him. “You want me to make you pancakes?” you repeated in an incredulous voice. Suna cracked open his eyes, his face scrunching up as he heard Atsumu’s request.

“Yeah!”

“Get Osamu to do it.”

“He doesn’t make them as good as you!”

You could practically hear him pouting on the other end of the line. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you heaved a sigh. “Give me a minute.”

“Thankyouthankyouthanky—” You ended the call before he finished. Climbing out of bed, you pulled on your clothes again.

“Are you actually gonna do it?” Suna asked.

“He’s just gonna keep harassing us until I do it anyway,” you said. “Besides, it’s almost ten o’clock, we might as well get up.”

Suna rolled over and pressed his face into the pillow, groaning loudly. Grinning, you tossed a clean pair of boxers and a shirt at him.

Atsumu looked way too happy when you finally appeared downstairs. He and Osamu were sitting at the kitchen counter together; they nudged a steaming mug towards you when you walked in.

“We made you coffee,” he said, his grin wide across his face.

“Uh huh,” you grumbled.

“Where’s mine?” Suna asked as he trailed in behind you.

“Make your own, dick,” Osamu told him, smirking as he sipped his own drink.

Suna rolled his eyes, going to pour himself a cup from the coffeemaker.

Trying to hide your laughter from him, you gathered up the ingredients and set to work. When all the pancakes were done cooking you passed half of them across the counter to the twins.

“Mmm,” Atsumu hummed, closing his eyes as he took a bite. “So good.”

“I gotta teach you how to make these yourself, ’Tsumu,” you said, taking a bite of your own breakfast.

“Yeah, that way you clowns can let us sleep in for once,” Suna added.

“Don’t pretend, Y/n,” Atsumu said, “you know you love seeing my cute little face first thing in the morning.”

“I prefer seeing ’Samu’s, actually,” you teased. Osamu stuck his tongue out at his twin, laughing at his crumpled expression.

When you all finished eating, Atsumu and Osamu jumped up to wash the dishes for you. Holding your mug of coffee with both hands, you leaned into Suna’s side.

Looking over his shoulder at you two, Osamu grinned. “So, how was your night?”

“Fine,” you said in a casual tone.

“And that’s all you’re gonna get out of us,” Suna finished.

Osamu rolled his eyes, turning back to the dishes in the sink. “As if I’d want any details.”

“My night was great, thanks for asking,” Atsumu chimed in.

“Yeah? Was that before or after you puked in the backyard?”

“’Samu!”

You couldn’t help the relaxed smile that found its way onto your face, happy to get to listen to them teasing each other like always. With one hand resting on the counter, Suna’s other reached around your waist to tug you closer, fitting your body against his. Standing there laughing with your friends, with his arm around you, felt like the most natural thing in the world.

➣epilogue

➣masterlist

#i loooooove making rintarou feel emotions #that's my main kink #this is pretty long but it's only because i have so many thoughts okay!!!!!!#suna #suna rintarou #suna x reader #suna rintarou x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #suna fluff #suna rintarou fluff #haikyuu fluff #suna angst #suna rintarou angst #haikyuu angst #niakasi writing

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sometipsygnostalgic · 3 years ago

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I love drawing on paper. I was already getting into it last year during my Adventure Time obsession but it really took off with She-ra. My book is 60% Entrapta SPOP doodles and it’s nearly full. It has about eight to ten blank pages left.

Even though my paper art isn’t as polished as my digital art, and it isn’t colourful (I’m intimidated at the idea of colouring in ACTUAL HUMANS with my low budget coloured pencil set), I’m liking it a lot more. Especially becauses it gives a reason to move away from the computer screen. Since I’ve started working, I’ve been WFH all day during weekdays, and then having gaming sessions on my computer with my friends, so it kind of fries my brain to draw digitally now, especially with how little space there is on this table with two computers!!! I like the physical feeling of pencil against paper and of each stroke having consequences.

I have a new art pad ready to go waiting in a bag, I’m just waiting for the right time to use it! I just had to walk home in the pissing rain, no coat on, with a laptop and my drawing pad and my switch, while also carrying a bag full of frozen food and slinging my headphones around my neck. I looked like a 19 year old college student, holy shit. But I’m thinking of contingencies of how I can protect my art pad. Do I wrap it in cling film and put it on a shelf? Or in the storage cupboard? Hmm. I don’t want it to meet the same fate as my other art pads.

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kusagrasskusa · 4 years ago

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Michael Myers X Murderer! Reader - Headcannons - "Death Card"

Also, thank you (Wattpad Person) for requesting this :) I know your the last request I got, so I prolly should have done someone else's request first, but your's was just easiest to find. (Also, I have it bad for Michael so )

Have fun reading this! I'm writing this on my laptop instead of computer so sorry if the formatting turns out worse than usual :/

Also...someone made fun of me for putting, "eight," and, "11," in the same sentence. I guess not many people know this, but anything under ten is supposed to be written out unless their fractions or decimals.

By the way, these basically aren't headcannons lol. It's just me wanting to write out a story but not being good enough to so I just write it down in simpler terms.

Enjoy~

Not only is Y/N just another famous murder who casually takes the lives of people, but she's amazing at hiding

..........until-

Y/N was an abusive home after her parents died when she was a toddler. Her aunt and uncle neglected her but karma came back at them when their car fell off a bridge, causing the pair to drown. The downside for the young Y/N was that she was put into a foster institution. And we all know by now that foster care are full of fights, drugs, weed, alcohol, and shitty employees.

As a young girl entering such a bad place, she was always a target. You know that sense of fear, worthlessness, and loneliness fucked with her head to where she felt lashing out felt great.

She would be unable to stop herself as she plunged a sharp object in and out of this prick that held her down for so long. But once she heard voices from other kids, she ran.

The story made headlines as the next big attack from yet another child. That's right, next. There was someone who inspired her to do what she did.

Of course, she always had that memory in the back of her head. That boy's violent actions filled her with immeasurable awe when she saw the news. However, she always had something more important to think about.

With so much dissatisfaction with her past, she could only fill herself up with adding things on to her in the present, and more in the future.

Y/N would steal Poker cards from people and always use the Ace of Spades to mark her kills by sliding the card into a wound. After all, betting games were the highlight of her day in the foster institution. She was always so good at it that it became her pride.

All these headlines and stories about how evil she is became such a big deal in her head. Such an overwhelming feeling of adrenaline every time she heard the name people would call her.

"The Death Card," is another name for Ace of Spades in most English countries. It was the perfect fit for Y/N.

(Ya'll, I feel like a fucking genius for coming up with that lol)

She was so good at hiding, truly. Kill someone in Kentucky, then move to Missouri. Killing someone there and move to Georgia, and so on.

Only in her hometown was she caught.

Michael was the one who started it all for her, as their same age and hometown made her feel connected to him, and finally where he got caught would be the same place she did.

14 years of hiding and killing led her to meeting him

Michael spent these 14 years sitting in complete silence. No talking, no humming, no singing, nothing. It's like he was always in his own world of thought, too busy in his imagination to interact with the real world.

Of course, there was times when he did pay attention to what's around him.

The news was the only thing he'd really pay close attention to. After all, what if something happens to Haddonfield while's he's stuck in there, and that causes plenty of people he once knew to move away?

But per usual, there was nothing about it

But there was something that caught his attention even by a little

"After 14 years, the notorious Death Card or Card of Death has finally been caught," says the Haddonfield Police Department. "While we're unsure of her motives thus far, we have been able to learn of who she is. Y/N L/N made the headlines once in 1980 at the age of eight as one of America's biggest crime cases with children as the culprit, having brutally stabbed a 15 year old boy. This happened just two years after the Michael Myers case, when a six year old boy stabbed his older sister in 1978. All else the HPD are saying is that her frantic behavior may lead her to a mental institution rather than letting her make legal decisions in court."

Michael paid attention to all the details of the report. For this report to be made about Haddonfield, chances are they'll be meeting each other soon.

The Death Card was a violent killer Michael heard of plenty of times however he never paid close attention to.

(Holy shit these are just headcannons so why am I writing long paragraphs)

He had to say, hearing about her violent stabbings were the highlight of his week. Even if he never felt strong about hearing other people having fun with their lives like she was, he couldn't help but almost feel pushed to do what she is. Living freely and ending those who cross his path...

Saying he was jealous or inspired would be a stretch though

He would spend his days painting paper mache masks while thinking of doing what she was for sure but he hated how she would show off by using those cards as if she didn't have a goal in mind, which was annoying to him. If you have nothing to live for, then kill yourself was his mindset.

Michael watched as Y/N stepped into court. He know hundreds- no thousands- of people watched as this woman of pure evil stepped into the courtroom. Her H/C hair flowed as she walked passed everyone, glaring at them with her cold E/C eyes.

A look of slight intrigue replaced his normal dull expression as he watched the girl stand up before the judge, smiling sassily at the cameras as to tell them to fuck off. Michael can recognize that look of intrusion on her face as she was practically interrogated. Clearly, she hated it there.

He watched contently as all the mystery surrounding the Card of Death was revealed to everyone in this world. Days went by of this court case before finally, she pled insanity. After all, she was known to have some underlying mental conditions as she remained so calm when talking about the varies of ways she would kill.

It's easy to see that many felt bad for the girl. Such trauma growing up led to the creation of this unfortunate human. But Michael? He didn't feel bad at all.

He never was sad or truly sympathetic however...he did feel pity. Somewhere in his soulless eyes held pity for this sad, sad girl he was soon to meet. Not exactly sympathy, but simply pity. And with that came respect.

The day that Y/N stepped foot into those doors was the day the two would meet for the very first times. Over 63 counts of first degree murder in 14 years led to the meeting of these two serial killers. At the time, they were both only 20.

Tables were scattered across the room with people talking or simply sitting alone by themselves on them. There was TV in a few different places around the room and board games in a couple of shelves. In the back of the large room was windows that showed the outside that felt so out of reach forever.

As the metal doors slammed behind her, she felt eyes on her immediately. Y/N slowly scanned the room as she gulped back the intense fear gathering in her stomach. Her lips parted open as she began to breath heavily and press her back on those metal doors.

She was so trapped and scared when she first entered that foster institution. She couldn't help but think of karma when her aunt would hurt her so badly for those five years before she died. But 63 murders are so much worse, so what could karma do to her to balance her evil deeds with punishment?

Laughter and giggled filled her ears as she shut her eyes tightly and covered her face with her arms. Her vision was going blurry; she was having a panic attack. Tears fell from her eyes as she whimpered quietly to herself.

She may be the Card of Death however she never had to be in a large group of people in so long.

Her body jerked as she was suddenly pulled away from those metal doors. She cried out when she saw a large man, around 6'7 (204cm), pull her away.

In just a few seconds, she was pulled to a metal table and forced to sit as the large man stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

Her body tensed unimaginably as they remained still for a few seconds, quiet aside from the occasional sobs of Y/N.

Then suddenly, the pressure on her shoulders disappeared. She heard nothing until the sound of creaking from the seat in front of her interrupted.

Y/N felt eyes on her. They were so intense over her.

A minute passed before her own eyes fluttered open, meeting the man's eyes in front of her.

A shiver ran down her spine when she came face to face with stone cold blue eyes that seemed to hold nothing within them. No light, no soul, and no sympathy. Not only that, but a orange mask made of paper mache covered the rest of his face as well.

The man tilted his head before lifting his hand onto the table, sliding something over to her. Y/N looked down at what he gave her.

"Don't speak. Write."

Michael had given her a paper with these words. His handwriting was hard to read considering he nearly never wrote anything so it took a moment before Y/N got the message. When she did, she looked back up at the man and nodded just a little so it was barely recognizable.

Obviously this conversation was to be secretive so she knew to barely show signs of interactions. The camera couldn't pick up on such a small nod to what evidence is there of them even interacting?

Michael slid the paper back to him and brought a pencil to the paper after erasing the original text. When he slid it back to her, it read, "Don't let anyone know what we say Y/N. They watch everything." When Y/N looked back up at him, she saw him dart his eyes from something behind her to something on the wall between them. She turned her head slightly to the side, noticing a camera on the wall. So she understood.

Michael had dropped on the pencil on the table, meaning it was her turn to reply. She erased the previous text before writing down, "Who are you? How do you know me?" When she slid it back, Michael took the pencil in his hand again.

"Michael Myers. I was a well known case two years before you. We heard a lot about you on TV."

"As in the boy who killed his sister at the age of six?"

"Yes. You know me?"

Y/N's eyes widened slightly as she frantically wrote down a reply. Without even noticing, the knot in her stomach had completely disappeared without a trace.

"I remember seeing your case. I thought about everyday."

Michael didn't reply immediately after reading. Instead, he waited a few minutes and stared down at the table. A look of confusion remained on Y/N's features as she impatiently waited. Then suddenly, Michael erased what was on the paper and simply drew a masked person looking somewhat like himself with a knife in his hand. He drew dead stick figures around it with blood splattering everywhere.

Michael knew that this picture would cover up all the eraser marks and writings that were still slightly visible. So when the guard that walked up behind Y/N without her knowing popped up, he didn't see any text.

Of course, this did lead to the paper being taken away. Then minutes after that, both of the pair was taken away.

If there's one thing as scary as analyzing The Shape and caring for him, it's that person who cares and analyzes him finding him interacting with someone else for the first time.

Whenever Y/N got sat down in her cell, she knew what was about to happen. She was sat down in her bed as a man she'd never seen before sat down in the chair that came with her little desk in her cell with a guard next to him.

Have you ever spoken to Michael? Are you related to him? How do you know him? How does he know you? Have you ever met his family? Why did he interact to you? Why was he drawing things for you? Does he like you? Does he hate you? Did he write to you? Did you hear him talk?

So many questions were asked by this Dr Loomis in such short amount of time. "No, no, I don't, no, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, no, no," and mostly these were your responses. No matter how many times Loomis asked, you dully replied.

You simply said he sat you down and you began to draw together, both filling in a piece of the drawing together.

And eventually, you got out.

Another day went by of "talking" to Michael.

And another.

The talks were nice and casual. What goes on in the asylum? What goes on in the outside? Who should I avoid? What's the reputation of the HPD?

Do you want to escape?

But it was only a matter of time before finally the two were friends.

Y/N was kinda just in her cell one night in bed. Then she just gasped and widened her eyes. Wait, are we friends? We're friends, right!

Michael already knew of their friendship like two weeks before she did. It felt so...wrong for him. He had always been alone and silent. How could someone like her even be so likeable to him? He didn't really understand it but he knew he hated it.

One day, the two were writing to each other per usual. Michael unintentionally added a pun in one of his comments, causing Y/N to giggle. Michael cocked his head to the side in confusion, strangely feeling heat rise his face and his heart speed up. It was air conditioned so he suspected he may have gotten sick.

Whenever the two had to go back to their cells, that feeling suddenly disappeared. Then it hit him. Oh fuck-

Hell, only a week later did Y/N feel herself experiencing the same symptoms. Michael notices that Y/N would shake and fidget a lot when they interacted, making him wonder of she was cold. As a friend, it was only right for him to sit next to her and hold her close to keep her warm, right? Y/N's face went red and damn that was embarrassing. But of course, that didn't mean Y/N wouldn't hug him back.

Eventually the two were basically cuddling. The two hugging each other warmly as Y/N rested her head on his chest, struggling to stay awake as they got more comfortable by the second.

But of course, Dr Loomis caught eye of that.

The doctor had been looking deep into al the interactions these two evil beings have had. They act so casual, so normal with each other, surely more than just drawing is happening between them, right?

The doctor had pulled them into his office separately to interrogate them. While Y/N bluntly answered his questions to make him just shut up as quickly as possible, she couldn't help but think to herself. She knows that she and Michael are mentally ill, but he should definitely be fixed by now. He's smart and creative and can casually talk to people, so it's like the only thing keeping him here is that the doctors are so ill-equipped that they can't make the necessary breakthrough to save him.

Of course, just a month later, another incident happened like this. Y/N was having a bad migraine so Michael got her to just sit down and wait for him during lunch. He brought over two trays of food for them and was sure to trade with Y/N so she can eat the things she likes and he could have the things she dislikes.

Another time, a bipolar guy ran into Michael and shoved him as if it was his fault. Michael shoved him back instinctively, causing a fight to disperse between the two. As security guards took notice, Y/N was quick to push Michael away softly and ball a fist to punch the fuck out of that guy- like a, "YO WHATCHU SAY ABOUT MY MAN?" type shit. Y/N did this to seem like she was hitting back and that Michael hadn't done anything wrong.

And when each other's birthday's rolled around, they had their own celebration. Y/N was given her own paper mache mask as a gift and a small cupcake from the cafe. Michael was given stolen art supplies that were taken from other guests and also a cupcake.

Y/N slowly stopped having panic attacks, but she definitely had her moments. Of course, Michael sat with her through it.

Dr Loomis recorded all this shit so he can gather data on Michael. Then the question hit him: How would Michael react if Y/N was gone for a few days? Does he truly care about her or is he just using her?

If you think Michael hated Loomis before, wait til he pieced together the disappearance of girlfriend and the extensive eyesight on him from security guards. For the hell he raised about it, he had to get sterilized and put into a cell without being able to get out for a few days.

Y/N remained bored in her cell for days. So what better could she do than annoy the guard watching her? She would just talk nonstop for what felt like hours and hours. The dude watching her was just getting more pissed off by the second.

"Would you shut up? Crazy bitch," he hissed, hitting the cell door. Y/N giggled cockily, shaking her head. Even if she deserved to be yelled at for continuing to talk, the Card of Death refused to back down. But when the guard went inside her cell and locked the door behind him, she got a bit worried.

Y/N got off her bed and threatened him cockily, to which he responded with physical force.

Of course, Smith's Groove is ill-equipped so even with proof of being hit and tazed, Y/N couldn't do anything to get the guard fired. But Michael?

A full month without seeing each other was like a slow suicide. But when they finally got to see each other again, the two was sure to write so much about their time alone as if they were teenage friends discussing their fun weekends. However, things turned dark whenever Y/N brought up the guard.

Michael didn't show any emotions at all, no matter what happens. But Y/N learned to guess how he's feeling depending on how long he takes to respond. Slowed blinking as if he was in thought, and slower reading as got analyze her writing closer were typically bad signs.

About a year had passed since they met at this time. A year to plan to escape. By now, the two were both 21 and fully prepared to leave once and for all.

Whenever that security guard had walked passed Michael's cell one night, Michael had knocked on the door to signal him. Michael slipped a paper through the doorslot, as he was given paper since he doesn't talk, saying he found a dead mouse in his cell. The guard just huffed and let himself inside. Michael pointed to where the mouse supposedly was; and that was a mistake for the guard.

Right as that guard went to look, Michael got behind and covered his mouth before stabbing him in the neck with a paint brush that's but carved into a small blade. Within moments, the guard dropped dead onto the floor.

Taking the keys from the guard, Michael was able to let out nearly every single prisoner to this hell out of their cells. Including Y/N.

The world sister was the only thing left of the pair as it was engraved into the door of Michael's cell. And just like that, the two were gone.

How they got there so fast doesn't matter but eventually Y/N and Michael found an abandoned house to station at until the search around the area disappeared and they could move around quicker.

"I can't fucking believe it," Y/N cheered as she felt tears run down her face from happiness. She swayed across the room, taking in the smell of dust and air. Even something dirty felt so new to her that couldn't help but love it at the moment.

Michael would watch her as he sat down in an old wooden chair, cocking his head. His body was in complete shock as the realization of all that's happened in the past years came crashing down on him. This was the real world? This is what dust smells like? This is what shattered glass and broken wood looks like? This is what trees look like up close? This is what things look like without glass tinting the color?

This is what it feels like to celebrate with someone you love? Michael reminded himself that the girl in front of him changed his life so much. His urge to harm all around him was always so strong, but the thought of her being hurt felt a bad taste in his mouth.

He stood up from the chair, walking towards the ecstatic girl as she cried happily to herself and picked up random things to remind herself of what they feel like and all she takes for granted. She turned her head to him, smiling, "Michael, look, I found a-"

Y/N gasped as Michael gripped his mask and slowly moved it. Y/N watched in awe as for the first time, she saw her only friend in this world's real face. That pale skin and soulless eyes that she grew familiar with became so new to her again.

"Michael..." she whispered, stepping closer to him. Her face heated up as she felt the weight his eyes staring down at her. She lightly bit her lip, a shiver going down her spine.

He took a few steps closer as well, making the two remain inches away from each other. Now at this point, Y/N is questioning if Michael is gonna kill her or is gonna kiss her as he awkwardly put his hand to her cheek, brushing her hair away. She leaned her head into his hand, keeping eye contact with him the whole time.

In just a matter of moments, the two came together in a soft kiss. The moment was quiet as the two did their best to remain calm and together as this moment that was little way's overdue continued.

When the two pulled away, Y/N was quick to wrap her arms around him. Now she wasn't going to cry about it, but damn was that contact she needed so badly. The Death Card and The Shape were basically Yin and Yang with how one is emotional and the other in emotionless but their need for pain and each other is what kept it healthy.

Just imagine how much suffering families went through since the two got out.

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