#type beat 2018 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

onlyswan · 1 year ago

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summary: in which you drive jungkook mad but you make his heart beat.

idol!jungkook x f!reader, est. relationship / fluff, suggestive, a pinch of angst / word count: 5k

content/warnings: tried sumn different so this is mainly from jungkook’s pov :D !! drummer!oc ur so cool & i’m stealing u from ur bf 🏃— mention of a 10 yr age gap between jk & a guy who likes oc (he’s hella pissed off) ; mentions of (car) s^x ; allusion to a bl^wj^b ; jk just got home from tour & oc is tipsy, needy, & dramatic as hell T_T ; oc /briefly/ touches jk while he’s driving & he /nearly/ loses his shit & crashes the car (he doesn’t) (i’m kidding) + to the anon who wanted to jk’s cheek scar to get a kissy here u go 🥺

> in which masterlist!

note: oc is so shot glass of tears coded especially in this… i’m glad i’m posting this after golden came out just so i could say it 🥰 this takes place after this drabble sooo the end of oct 2018 <3 if u’ve read the prev drabble too, this was when jk said those exact words in the past 🥺 wrote this in the middle of hell week so i was half out of my mind :'] as always feedback & reblogs rrr always appreciated !! 🥺

—

jungkook loves the sound of rain— the gentle knocks on every surface of the earth has always been a lullaby even during daylight.

tonight is a different story, however. it is defeaning, terrifying even. he can barely see what is infront of him, spare the occasional headlights blazing across the slippery roads. his umbrella is being stolen away by the harsh gusts of wind and the mud stains on his sneakers are well-hidden by the plain black.

and yes, he is tired; and yes, this is hard, but that is the end of it.

you’re exactly where you told him you’d wait, far behind the edge of the roof where the rainwater falls from and splashes on the ground. you stand out in his blue oversized shirt, one that he purposely left behind in your closet so he could have something else to wear when he sleeps over.

you’re too busy typing on your phone to see him crossing the parking lot; he feels his very own vibrate in the pocket of his sweatpants. however, his giddy smile fades when a man exits through the entrance door and approaches you with a red umbrella. his strides become slightly hurried then, as he watches you politely decline it with that heart-fluttering smile of yours everybody adores.

“oh no, really, i’m fine. you might need it later! my boyfriend is already coming to pick me up anyway.”

jungkook acts cool. he tucks his hand in the pocket of his sweatpants, tries to make himself appear bigger because he realizes that he would be inches shorter than the man if not for the platforms of his shoes.

“____, baby!”

upon hearing your name coming from the lips of your lover, your face lights up even brighter.

“jungkook!”

you greet him with an embrace, jumping into his arms before he can properly set down his umbrella on the ground.

“yah, yah-yah! be careful!” he chuckles as he wraps his arms around your waist to catch you, peering down to check how high your boots are for you to be running and jumping around freely.

“hey, i’m going back inside- there’s more customers coming in. make it home safe, alright?”

the stranger tries to catch your attention, and jungkook’s protectiveness swiftly kicks in when he lays a hand on you and slides it down to your lower back. your boyfriend turns you away from the unprompted touch by pulling your body closer to his side, and he is unable to control how his eyebrows knit together in annoyance.

he wasn’t planning on giving much thought to the presence of a man around you. he knows better than that. but he has never heard about this one, which raises the question of who the fuck is he to freely touch you like that?

“oh- alright! thank you, jun!”

“you better take care of ____, man. it’s dangerous around here during this time.”

he receives a rather heavy and condescending pat on the shoulder, and so, with his annoyance bubbling worse, he wears a passive aggressive smile on his face.

“yeah, of course i am,”

jun’s nostrils flare as he witnesses you sneakily slide your hands underneath jungkook’s hoodie in search of warmth.

“i’m here now, so there’s no need to worry about my girlfriend anymore.”

he nods, then forces himself to smile. “that’s good, then.”

“yeah, thanks. we’re leaving.”

“oh, okay. have a nice night!”

“you too,”

he turns on his heel and returns inside the busy establishment— but not before jungkook made sure that he saw the bruises on his knuckles that he got from his boxing sessions.

his jaw clenches as he glares at the door.

is he being petty? sure, to hell with that. he doesn’t care. he’s always been one to trust his gut, and he has a bad feeling.

he is met by a love-drunk smile when his undivided attention is at last given to you, in the form of fond eyes and affectionate strokes of your hair.

“who was that?”

“eh, new bartender,” you shrug with disinterest. “hm, i think he’s 31…? he’s nice but he keeps talking about wrestling.”

he raises an eyebrow at the mention of his age, while your lips form a sad pout.

what the hell? he thought he would be 25 at most.

“the tv has been in the same channel for the past two weeks because of him. it’s all i’ve been seeing! i don’t like it-” you whine in distress, quite frankly, a little traumatized.

an endeared smile is coaxed out of him at your adorableness, how your speech is a little slurred and how you’re looking at him like you’re begging him to do something about it.

“makes me nervous,”

his dominant hand closes into a fist.

if he only he had known. should’ve fucking punched the guy, give him a taste of what he seems to be a huge fan of.

“let’s watch something calming when we get home, how about that?”

you nod your head, eyes that twinkle with eagerness fluttering shut when he leans in for a much awaited kiss. how sweet, he feels a little more alive than before. he can smell it, even taste it— the peach margarita you started sipping on before the band’s first set. concocted by jun, he presumes. he pulls away with a small smile, licking his lips for the traces of you that clung to him.

out of the blue, you burst into a fit of giggles, weak knees buckling as your weight crashes on him.

“i missed you!”

“babe, are you seriously drunk?” he chuckles, holding you with a secure grip around your torso.

“maaaybe tipsy…? i was pretending not to be.” you stand on your tip-toes to nuzzle your face against his neck, mumbling sheepishly. “only trust you.”

—

“i should’ve accepted the umbrella.” you grunt childishly, body going limp on jungkook’s back, except for the arm holding up the umbrella that shields the both of you from the pouring rain.

“yah!” he scolds you, clearly not pleased with the words that just came from your mouth. “what does that mean?”

“i’m embarrassed! they’re probably feeling bad for you.”

the last sentence comes out as a whisper, pertaining to the side glances you’ve been attracting from strangers as you make your way to your boyfriend’s car.

unfortunately, he had to park somewhere far because the restobar’s parking lot was already full.

you jokingly complained about staining your white boots with dirt and mud, but you instantly regretted it when he bent down, signalling you to ride on his back without an ounce of hesitation.

“our shoulders always get wet when we share an umbrella,” he said. “if i carry you, wouldn’t it be better?”

“embarrassing? some would even say romantic!”

something peculiar happens then— when your lips ghost over his left cheek, planting an affectionate kiss there that lasts for seconds. you pull away with a smacking sound, giggly and bubbly, might be his favorite version of you.

“i love you,” you hum, grasping the umbrella upright before it could tip over.

he doesn’t know if you did it on purpose or not, kissing him precisely where his scar is, but his heart jumps in his chest when he feels it begin to throb.

as if the wound from his childhood has come alive. as if, once again, he is bleeding as he glares at his older brother, and he still wants to play games on the computer oblivious to the fact that it would leave a permanent scar, a brand new landmark on his body.

you mistake his silence for something else.

you frown, warm breath tickling his neck as you quietly ask. “are you still mad at me?”

he sighs, vision landing on the ground as his walking pace slows down. “no? i was wrong. i shouldn’t have questioned your decision in the first place… why would i be mad?”

you started playing the drums for your friend’s band two months ago, just as soon as he left for tour. you volunteered after witnessing how distraught they were when their drummer vanished without a trace. he learned that it used to be a hobby of yours from childhood until early teenage years, playing the drums, but it was robbed from you when your father took his instruments with him when he abandoned your home for another.

he was pleasantly surprised when he learned about it, recounted all the times your hands and fingers were drumming on any sort of surface and his head naturally bopped to the beat, but then again, you never brought it up.

isn’t ____ so cool? he would proudly say when he flaunts you to his friends, even the protocol team, who have never seen him so happy.

three times a week, from nine in the evening until midnight, your phone was propped up on an empty table infront of the stage, and him, on the other side of the globe, excitedly watched you from backstage while he was getting ready for their own show. some other times, he was in his hotel room, or the private jet. his patience has been tested by crappy wifi, nosy and noisy people, and his earphones that stopped working while you looked insanely attractive grooving to ‘why’d you only call me when you’re high?’ as you effortlessly played the drums. he showered you with compliments as you did for him. you’re working hard so he must do the same.

he arrived home from tour the other day, spent the rest of its hours sleeping. yesterday, he waited for you at school and then at work like a lost puppy, slept on your bed (if he’s being honest, the two of you didn’t do much sleeping) then woke up at 9am for work.

and he tried his best, he really did, to get out of the company early enough to catch you playing a song or two. after all, it was your last day at the job.

much as you enjoyed reconnecting with an old flame— loved the overflowing tips that came from those who were amazed by your talent (well, there were also those who were just trying to get into your pants), the moment that the old drummer got down on his knees begging to be taken back by his best friends, just like how you became a part of the band, you voluntarily stepped down.

jungkook didn’t agree with this decision. he didn’t understand why you’d sacrifice something that makes you happy for a person who fucked up and wasted what they had. you went back and forth over it on the phone until you cried, told him that it wasn’t easy for you, and he couldn’t hold you in his arms or kiss your face. he could only apologize, and it even felt insincere doing it through a screen.

maybe he’s only relieved that you no longer need to be around a man an entire decade older than he is, who is obviously interested in you and serves you alcohol drinks. no, that doesn’t sit right with him. he needs jun, or whatever the fuck his true name is, to stay very far away from his baby.

“i’m just sad that i never got to watch you perform in person.”

you rest your cheek on his shoulder, heavy eyelids slowly blinking as the headlights of a black van blindsides you.

what the fuck. too bright.

“me too…”

—

“i’m bored,” you release a dramatic sigh, stealing a glimpse of jungkook at the driver’s seat, just to see if you caught his attention like you intended.

his eyes are trained on the dashboard, however, focused on the navigation guide displayed on his phone. he isn’t very familiar with this part of the city. it took him more than an hour to arrive at the address you sent him, including the time he spent in the middle of traffic.

“forty-eight minutes, then we can do whatever you want.”

“whatever i want?”

he slows down the car, briefly turning his head to find you expectantly looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

“of course,” he laughs, taking one hand off the wheel to squish your cheeks together. “just tell me what it is, baby.”

he doesn’t catch the sad look that flashes across your face after you lose his touch.

“then i’ll tell you when i figure out what i want,” you say quietly.

“i thought you already had something in mind?”

“nope,” you answer with yet another sigh.

you choose to stare out the window in silence, body completely slumping into your seat in defeat.

jungkook’s senses are sharp, or he likes to believe so. “are you okay?”

“i’m okay,”

“you sure?”

“hmm,” you hum curtly, and then you close your eyes, so he decides not to press further despite wanting to.

he meets a red traffic light not long after that. and so, he hurriedly grabs the black fleece blanket in the backseat. he envelopes you in it, crossing the distance between you to softly press his lips onto yours for a goodnight kiss. he feels you respond, albeit lazily, and he smirks cockily when you lift yourself up to chase him for one more, please— desperately, to get your fill of goodnight kisses from the many nights that you missed it.

the time seems to tick excruciatingly slow now that you’re quiet. a minute is multiplied by a hundred. the steady rhythm of your breathing keeps him sane throughout dark avenues and encounters with reckless drivers of the midnight scene.

he missed you. he missed you so much, and he knows that you’re tired from university, and tutoring high school students in english, and playing the drums for more than two hours… but he selfishly wishes that you’re awake right now so he can make up for the two months that you were apart.

be careful of what you wish for, they said.

jungkook should know better by now.

“i can’t sleep,” he hears you whisper in a dulcet tone that indirectly tells him you’re in need of some love… but he isn’t given the chance to act upon that request because you’re already all over what it is that you need.

he swallows thickly, glancing down at your hand that has somehow found its way to his inner thigh— zeroing in on your red nails, can feel them faintly grazing his skin.

you’re so pretty. everywhere.

even when naked and bare.

no, especially. it’s all he can think about.

he can draw you from memory.

“____,” he utters your name through gritted teeth, heart beginning to race a thousand miles per second in his chest.

the effect of your teasing touch is instantaneous, slowly inching closer and closer to where his growing erection is. his eyes remain focused on the road, but he fears that he’ll start thinking with his dick soon if you carry on with this act a few seconds longer.

“shit, not now, baby- please- not while i’m driving.”

your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, poorly concealing a self-satisfied smirk, and you pretend not to hear a single word from his plea.

a minx, that’s what you are, always causing trouble and blurring lines in his eyes.

“____, i’m not joking around. don’t make me mad-”

his warning is cut short by-

“fuck… fuck,” he curses, filter flying out the window once he feels you tracing the outline of his hard-on, the feather-light touch of your fingers smoothly gliding across the fabric of his sweatpants, and he completely loses it when your soft palm caresses his cock, so gentle that it feels almost innocent.

okay, so he couldn’t feel it because you weren’t skin-to-skin, but he knows that your hands are soft, can feel his imagination running wilder because he has memorized the way they feel on most parts of his body.

you’re so incredibly nasty and evil for this— squeezing him lightly, taking advantage of how sensitive he’s gotten, making him tremble as pleasure shoots up his spine. his breath stutters in his lungs and he unconsciously pushes harder on the gas.

and although it means fighting every fiber of his being that painfully yearns for more, he seizes your wrist in an iron grip, placing your hand over the gearstick while his sits heavy on top of yours.

“____! behave! you’re going to get us killed!”

he watches you jut out your bottom lip through the rearview mirror, eyes hazy with lust staring down at where your hand used to be, and then his handsome face. he is evidently flushed, honey skin dusted with a rosy pink. all the way to the tips of his ears, down to his neck.

while he’s driving? really?

doesn’t this only happen in wet dreams?

you are not real.

“then pull over,” you plead. “please?”

he releases a shaky breath. you’re always so needy with alcohol in your system, drove him into total insanity while he couldn’t be here to give you what you wanted.

“no, you need to learn how to be patient… told you we can do whatever you want when we get home, right?”

wrong move.

the silence returns, and just when he thought that you went back to your journey to slumber, the sound of your sniffles fill the car.

jungkook’s heart breaks into a million pieces.

also, he wants to slam his head against the steering wheel.

you make it so fucking hard to resist you; you always get what you want. it becomes much harder when he is the subject of your desire and he loves being loved.

“haven’t i been patient enough…? i missed you so much.”

“and i missed you too!” he brings your intertwined hands to his lips, pressing them on your skin. “fuck, you have no idea how much… please, don’t cry.”

“then pull over,” you stubbornly insist, and he is so close to driving this car into a lamp post. “fuck me at the backseat.”

“can’t,” he mumbles, sounding almost pained, and he is. he wants you so bad, it hurts. “we’re going to have to do it without protection.”

“what do you mean?” you exclaim.

you rip your hand away from his, not wasting time in unlocking the glove compartment, and a sound of sheer disappointment escapes from your mouth as you collapse back on your seat.

“jungkook, i hate you!”

“well right now i hate myself too!” he cries out in frustration. “i didn’t have the time to buy more, okay?”

“and there’s not one in your wallet?”

“babe, are you serious?!”

“what?!”

somehow, his hands still expertly swivels the steering wheel as the car meets a curve.

but he feels dizzy. the ghost of your touch is still there, a promise of carnal pleasure unfulfilled.

“stop the car,” you say out of the blue, rather calmly, and that terrifies the shit out of him.

he swallows the lump in his throat, eyes switching between you and the road in panic. “huh?”

“i said stop the car, i’m stepping out.”

“babe, come on,” he moans, ruined and tormented. he reaches for your hand but you scoot further away from him, and he ignores the way his heart drops to his stomach as he kneads your exposed thigh instead. “please, don’t be like this. i just got home.”

“jungkook! if you don’t let me get off this car right now, i swear!”

the urgency embedded in your threatening voice leaves your boyfriend with no choice but to pull over to the side of the street as soon as he gets the chance.

he carries on to unbuckle his seatbelt.

“baby, stop being stu-”

he tries to reach for you, but he is rudely ignored as you hop off the car and slam the door shut on his face.

“…bborn…”

he blinks.

he inhales. he exhales.

and then he buries his face in his hands to scream… as quietly as possible.

“what the fuck was in that margarita?!”

—

jungkook steps out of the car worried sick about you. now wearing a black bucket hat, his head whips in different directions in search for the familiar shape of your body, your hair, your shirt that is his, anything.

his arm rests on top of the car door, the other on the roof, fingers drumming on it anxiously as he chews on his bottom lip.

there are mostly restaurants here, it seems. some are already closed, some are still lights on. not far away, he hears a karaoke place bursting with music and laughter. he looks up and he finds that the night sky remains barren of stars; there’s no guidance from the heavens that will lead him to you.

except for the sound of your sweet voice calling out his name.

he turns around, and he knows it’s going to sound extremely silly, but damn, you make his life feel like a movie— because you’re jogging towards him, and the universe begins moving in slow motion. perhaps it is to prevent him from falling on his knees in relief, because he genuinely thought that you already went home on your own like the stubborn brat that you are.

“____, where did you go?! you can’t just run off like that! seriously, that was not nice!”

“i forgot my wallet!” you squeal as you halt infront of him, slapping your forehead as a way to scold yourself. “i found a hotteok cart!”

his anger quickly dissipitates. he scans your face, mouth agape in bewilderment.

you, screaming at him to stop the car because there was a sighting of your favorite snack? makes sense.

he dishes out the wallet from his pocket. “wha- i thought you… you didn’t have money?”

you shake your head to answer his question.

“then how are you already eating?”

you take another bite from the hot hotteok you’re holding in a paper cup, and then you shrug.

“i was already eating when i realized it,” you point at yourself, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “so he let me run back here. does it look like this face would steal?”

“you’re impossible!” he bursts out laughing, the unique sound of his joy harmonizing with the mundane noises of the city.

he is thoroughly amused and in awe of your undeniable charm never failing to work its magic. if you just gave it a shot, you might be even better at him at his job.

you’re pliant as he captures your wrist, tugging you away with him so he can lock the car.

“i bought three, by the way.” you note as the two of you start walking, with you clinging to his side. “the last three then mister can go home.”

you put the hotteok near his mouth, and he pauses to take a big bite. “have you even had dinner?”

“just the four margaritas- they were yummy! or was it five?”

he clicks his tongue in disappointment, but he doesn’t get to say anything more about it because you’ve reached the hotteok cart, and he’s already handing the vendor the money.

“thank you!” he bows his head politely as he accepts the remaining two you mentioned earlier, handing them over to you.

“no, this is yours.” you speak with tenderness, giving back one of the cups to him. “then we’ll split the third one. it’s really good!”

the vendor secretly watches the interaction with a fond smile as he packs up to finally, finally end his long day working at the busy streets of seoul.

—

you’re sat together on the hood of jungkook’s car as you share a midnight snack. with caring hands, you rip the hotteok apart in perfect halves, offering the other to your lover. he accepts it in between his teeth.

“do you want drums as your christmas gift?”

“love,” you search for the words to say as you chew the food in your mouth. “i can barely fit in my apartment. where am i going to put a drum set…? not to mention that i can’t even cry without my neighbor hearing it.”

his shoulders drop in dejection, and you rub your boyfriend’s back in an attempt to comfort him.

“you must really want to see me play, don’t you?”

“i’m dying to,” he says in pure jungkook fashion, tone dramatic and thick with an accent that is entirely his. “i can’t believe there were regulars who saw you every night, while i, your boyfriend, didn’t even see you once…! even that fucking bartender… this- this can’t be right! do you think this makes sense? no, right?”

“aw, my baby,” you coo at him, jutting out your bottom lip as you tenderly cup his face.

“i don’t trust him, by the way,” he scoffs. “as much as possible, stay away from him when you visit, alright…? if i see him touching you one more time, i don’t know what i’ll end up doing to him.”

“i don’t like him either,” you giggle. “so that’s easy.”

he stares at your bloodshot eyes. damn it, you haven’t sobered up.

“____, i’m serious. he’s weird. i’m worried about you but i can’t always be here to protect you.”

you blink at him innocently. “i am too! serious!”

“you promise me?”

“i promise!”

he nods, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he gets lost in the sea of his own thoughts. “i should talk to your friends about this, too. is that okay?”

“if that will ease your mind,” you half-smile, heart fluttering in your chest because you feel so cherished.

comfortable silence follows suit.

the hotteok is still soft and warm and sweet. if your love had to be delivered to his doorstep, it would in the form of your favorite food.

he sighs to gain more of your sympathy, basking in the attention he’s receiving from you. he missed this. he missed you. he sounds like a broken record, but it’s true.

“come ooon, don’t be sad! i’ll make it up to you! but it’s a surprise!”

“surprise?” he eyes you with suspicion. “what surprise?”

“just trust me, alright?”

you poke his cheek where his dimples are, and you witness them pop out as he copies your contagious smile.

“can i make a guess?”

“nope!”

you fit the remaining piece of your hotteok in your mouth, jumping off the hood of the car. you stand before him as you wipe your hands clean with a small paper napkin.

“don’t you dare. if you guess it right then my plans will be ruined!”

—

you’re back on the passenger seat to travel the remaining twenty-seven minutes to your apartment.

jungkook melts into the tenderness of your touch as he drives. you’re tracing the toned muscles of his arms; stroking his hair, his face, and the smell of the sticky brown sugar from the hotteok still lingers on your skin.

“when are you going to start getting tattoos?” you wonder out loud as he intertwines your fingers together on top of his thigh. “i think you’d look so pretty.”

“i’m planning on it.”

his heart skips a beat at the thought of you remembering that he wants his skin artfully inked as you absentmindedly distracted yourself with it.

he licks his lips, smiling as he looks over at you. “you really think so? pretty?”

“hm, hot, too,” you stick your tongue out playfully, and he snorts out a laugh. “but as long as you’re happy, then nothing else matters.”

“of course- wait, yah! you still need to eat dinner.” he reminds you once he recognizes the path you’re taking.

a grocery store is not more than a kilometer away, if his memory serves him right.

“what do you want? i don’t mind cooking.”

“for you to fuck me, that’s what i want. you won’t mind that, too?”

oh my fucking god.

he wishes you were passed out drunk instead so he wouldn’t have to suffer this battle between self-control and his insatiable appetite for you.

“baby, aren’t you still sore from this morning?”

“a little,” he notices you squeezing your thighs together from his peripheral, and along with it, the bruises on your knees from when you worshipped his body last night. “but i want you.”

your giggles in reaction to him frustratedly running his fingers through his hair seems to only fuel the dirty thoughts in his head. he uncomfortably shifts in his seat to adjust himself.

“can you just bring it up when we get near your house? you’re killing me over here!”

“but why? i’m having fun.” you bring your tangled hands over to your side, peppering the back of his hand with innocent kisses. “i love you. you’re so cute.”

“are you… are you seriously calling me cute after what you just asked me to fuck you?”

his disbelief is challenged by your amusement.

“why not? being one dimensional? boring. being different things all at once? sexy.”

jungkook doesn’t need to see you play the drums to know that you are the only one capable of making his heart beat like this. to feel it pounding, it turns out there’s another way besides performing, he can just be alone with you. a different type of addictive exhilaration. he isn’t at the top of the world; he free falls as it revolves around you.

you always know the right words to say, because right now, he is preening. he’s wearing a big smile, the kind that looks like he’s laughing, but he’s not— almost. the kind that reaches his eyes, shapes them into little crescent moons.

how did he get so lucky?

rehearsals in the morning be damned, he will be fucking you good all night.

you make a noise of confusion when the car swerves into the trees at the side of the road.

“what are we doing here?”

jungkook only spares you a glance. “get in the backseat, baby.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #bts imagine #bts fanfic

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buckets-and-trees · 1 month ago

Text

Danger in the Heat of my Touch

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark and rough Nomad!Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 2.3k Summary: Tuesday, January 2, 2018. A getaway for your sister's bachelorette party puts you in danger - but only a very particular kind of danger.

Content/Warnings: we're continuing to call this "fluffy" angst, repeated hook ups, Nomad Steve is still soft!dark and a warning all his own, smut (vaginal fingering, cum savoring, public sex)

Author Notes: The second offering for my Birthday Jubilee.

Previous Part | Series

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

There was nothing like a wedding to remind a person of their woefully single status.

That it was your baby sister’s upcoming nuptials made it all the more difficult and not because you weren’t happy for her - you were thrilled, you adored and wholeheartedly approved of the guy she was marrying - but because it brought into sharp relief that you weren’t getting married or anywhere close to it.

The bridesmaids getaway trip to Aspen, Colorado, had been a piece of all the wedding festivities you had actually been looking forward to. The use of a timeshare had been generously provided by your sister’s new soon-to-be in-laws, and you generally liked the group bridesmaids. It was a happy mix of active and read-at-the-resort types as well as a mix of single and in relationship among the six of you.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t planned on stepping into a nightclub while you were there.

It hand’t crossed your mind as a possibility even once.

And yet here you were.

You had never been to a club in your life.

You felt completely out of place in the dimly lit, crowded nightclub. The pulsing music was so loud you could feel it vibrating in your chest. Your sister and the other bridesmaids were already on the dance floor, laughing and moving to the beat. You, on the other hand, were planted firmly at the bar, nursing a vodka soda and trying not to look as uncomfortable as you felt.

"Hey, wallflower!" Your sister's voice somehow cut through the thumping bass. She appeared at your elbow, flushed and grinning. "What are you doing over here all alone?"

You raised your glass. "Just enjoying my drink."

"Come on! You can't just sit here all night. Come dance with us!"

You hesitated, but the pleading look in her eyes weakened your resolve. With a sigh, you downed the rest of your drink and allowed her to lead you onto the dance floor.

The crush of bodies was overwhelming at first, the heat and energy palpable as you wove through the crowd. Your sister found a small clearing where the rest of the bridesmaids were dancing, and they cheered as you joined their circle somewhat awkwardly.

To your surprise, it wasn't as terrible as you'd feared. As you swayed to the beat, you found yourself relaxing slightly. The music was still too loud for your taste, but there was something freeing about letting your body move to the rhythm. Your sister and the other bridesmaids danced around you, their energy infectious. You even managed a laugh when one of them attempted a particularly ridiculous dance move.

The DJ transitioned seamlessly from one song to the next, each beat blending into a continuous wave of sound. Flashing lights swept across the dance floor, painting the crowd in ever-changing hues of blue, green, and purple. The air was thick with the mingled scents of perfume, sweat, and alcohol.

After a few songs Melissa, one of the other bridesmaids, leaned in close to shout over the music. "I need a break! It's so hot in here!"

"I'll keep you company," you offered, grateful for an excuse to step away from the crowded dance floor.

Melissa smiled in relief. "Thanks! I'm dying of thirst."

“You find us a table, I’ll get us some drinks!”

She nods, and the two of you part ways and meander through the crowd.

As you made your way to the bar, you found yourself swept up in the pulsing rhythm yet again. Without even realizing it, you began to move with the music, dancing your way through the crowd, gliding through so much more easily then before.

You spun, laughing as you narrowly avoided collision with a tall man in a glittering shirt. He grinned back, raising his drink in a silent toast before disappearing into the crowd. The anonymity was intoxicating.

You continued making your way to the bar, and a particularly catchy song came on, its infectious rhythm impossible to resist. You began to singg, hips swaying sensuously to the beat. You lifted your arms above your head, lost in the moment, until you felt strong hands grip your hips from behind. The touch was firm, almost possessive, as whoever it was pulled you back against a broad, muscular chest.

For a moment, indignation flared within you at the stranger's audacity. You whirled around, ready to give the presumptuous man a piece of your mind.

But the words died on your lips as you found yourself face to face with Steve Rogers.

Your heart nearly stopped. The flashing lights painted his features in alternating hues, but there was no mistaking those piercing blue eyes, that strong jaw now covered in a fuller beard than you'd ever seen on him. He wore a plain black t-shirt that clung to his muscular frame, and a sinfully intense look on his face.

"Steve?" you breathed, your voice lost in the pounding music.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. "Dance with me."

It wasn't a question. His hands remained firmly on your hips as he began to move, guiding you to sway with him to the pulsing beat. You were acutely aware of every point of contact between your bodies - his broad chest against yours, his powerful thighs brushing against you as you moved together.

The rational part of your brain screamed that this was dangerous, that he shouldn't be here. But the way he was looking at you, touching you, made it impossible to think clearly. You found yourself melting into his embrace, your arms sliding up to wrap around his neck.

Steve's hands roamed your body as you danced, tracing the curve of your waist, sliding down to grip your round ass. The possessive touch sent tendrils to wrap around your now pulsing core.

Your mind reeled, trying to process his sudden appearance. "What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice barely audible over the thumping bass.

"I could ask you the same thing," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear to be heard over the music. "This doesn't seem like your usual scene."

You laughed, the sound lost in the pulsing music. "It's not. It’s my sister’s bachelorette party."

Steve's eyes darkened at the mention of your sister. "Where is she now?"

You glanced around, suddenly remembering that you were supposed to be getting drinks for Melissa. "On the dance floor with the other bridesmaids, I think. Wait, are we safe?" your mind suddenly rushing to the logic of why he would probably be here at all.

His grip on your hips tightened fractionally, and he nodded. “We stopped what we came here to stop tonight. But I shouldn't stay long."

Steve's eyes scanned the crowded dance floor, his body tensing slightly. You could almost see the tactical assessment happening behind his eyes. After a moment, he relaxed marginally, his gaze returning to you.

As one song transitioned into the next, Steve's hand slid up your back, coming to rest at the nape of your neck. He tilted your chin up, his intense gaze meeting yours. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was heated and hungry.

His tongue teased at the seam of your lips, and you parted them eagerly, deepening the kiss. Steve's hand tightened against the back of your neck, angling your head to deepen the kiss further. You melted into him completely, your body molding to his as if you were made to fit together.

When you finally broke apart, both breathless, Steve rested his forehead against yours. "I shouldn't have done that," he murmured, though he made no move to release you from his embrace.

"You shouldn’t have stopped," you replied, your voice barely audible over the music.

Steve's eyes searched yours, a mix of desire and conflict swirling for only another moment, and then his lips were on your again, demanding. The kiss was electric, igniting every nerve ending in your body. His hands roamed your curves possessively as you lost yourself in the sensations. The pulsing music faded into the background, your world narrowing to just the two of you in this moment.

One of his hands found your neck again, holding you steady, but the other found its way to your inner thigh, sliding up, up to your aching pussy, fingers ghosting over your sensitive skin. Your breath hitched as his hand reached the apex of your thighs, cupping you intimately.

"Steve," you gasped against his lips, torn between desire and the awareness that you were in a very public place.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as his fingers began to move, stroking you through your underwear. "You're so wet already," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "All for me?"

You could only whimper in response, your hips rocking against his hand almost involuntarily. The music and the crowd faded into the background as Steve's fingers worked their magic, teasing and stroking until you were trembling in his arms.

Steve's fingers continued their relentless teasing, stroking you through the thin fabric of your underwear. The crowded dance floor provided some cover, but you still felt exposed, vulnerable. Yet the thrill of potentially being caught only heightened your arousal.

"Steve," you gasped, clinging to his broad shoulders as pleasure coursed through you. "We can't... not here..."

He nipped at your earlobe, his beard scratching deliciously against your sensitive skin. "Why not?" he growled. "No one's paying attention to us."

To prove his point, he slipped his hand beneath the waistband of your underwear, his fingers finally making direct contact with your slick folds. You bit back a moan, burying your face in his chest to muffle the sound.

Steve's fingers explored you expertly, circling your clit before dipping lower to tease your entrance. The pleasure was almost unbearable, laced with the adrenaline at the risk of discovery. Yet you clung to him desperately, your hips rocking against his hand as he worked you closer to the edge.

"That's it," he murmured directly in your ear, his voice low and husky. "Let go for me. Want to feel you come on my fingers."

One more particularly well-timed stroke of his thumb over your clit sent you careening over the edge. You bit down on his shoulder to muffle your cry as waves of ecstasy washed over you. Steve held you close, his fingers working you through your orgasm until you were trembling and oversensitive.

As you came down from your high, reality began to seep back in. The pulsing music and flashing lights of the club reasserted themselves. You became acutely aware of how exposed you were, even in the crowded darkness.

Steve slowly withdrew his hand, his intense gaze never leaving yours. Without breaking eye contact, he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean.

The sight sent another jolt of arousal through you, but it was tempered by a growing sense of urgency. You glanced around nervously, suddenly remembering your sister and the other bridesmaids.

Steve sensed your growing unease and pulled you closer, one of his strong arms encircling you protectively. He cupped your face gently, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. "I have to go," he said, his voice barely audible over the pulsing music.

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat. Of course he had to leave. This stolen moment was all you could ever have.

Steve leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. "I shouldn't have sought you out," he murmured. "But when I saw you, I couldn’t…" He trailed off, his eyes roaming your face as if memorizing every detail.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. "I'm glad you did," you said, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

For a moment, Steve looked as if he might say something more. But then his expression hardened, resolve settling over his features. He leaned in, capturing your lips in one final, searing kiss that left you breathless.

When he pulled away, his voice was urgent. "Be careful. Stay with your friends."

Before you could respond, he was gone, disappearing into the crowd as swiftly and suddenly as he had appeared.

You stood there for a moment, feeling dazed and bereft. The pulsing music and flashing lights seemed garish now, the crowded dance floor oppressive rather than exciting. You were in a crowd, people pressed up around you, and yet the wave of loneliness that washed over you was so overwhelming you almost couldn’t breathe.

Why did you have to see him again when you thought that maybe, just maybe, you had finally gotten him out of your system?

Your heart ached, but all you could do was make your way to the bar on unsteady legs, order drinks for you and Melissa. And when you found her and later when you all went back to the timeshare, you’d have to pretend as if you hadn’t just been taken apart in the middle of a crowded dance floor by Captain America.

It’s not something you would have told all the women, of course, but you trusted your sister enough you would possibly have told her.

But it would make no difference.

And what would you tell her anyway?

Steve had rocketed into your life for what was clearly a fling in the summer. When he’d shown up at your door in September, you had felt the tone of shouldn’t be here cast its shadow over the night. Tonight that last look he gave you - the angry resolve was so clear. You knew before he wasn’t going to stumble into your town again, but now you knew that if you somehow crossed paths again, you would never know - he wouldn’t insert himself into your life again.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I've known since mid-September that this was the next time you would see our Exiled Nomad (you the reader fictionally in the storyline, but also that I wanted to wait to share any more of their story until when the calendar aligned with it). We know you'll see him again in March (that's where this whole 'verse started, remember?), but the question is will you see him before that?

read more in the Exiled Nomad Series

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #nomad steve rogers #steve rogers x yn #female reader #curvy reader #aspen wrote something #aspen's birthday jubilee #exiled nomad series

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silentglassbreak · 6 months ago

Note

if you’re still taking and writing delulu fantasies could i please request one where you meet noah (say you know people working in the scene so you meet them backstage after a show when your friends invite you to spend time with them?).

you’re used to meeting band dudes so it’s nothing but noah tries to appear chill in his pursuit of you. you think he’s cute so you go with it but the most awkward flirtation and cringy smut ensues. (my kink’s an embarrassed noah 😌) thank you so much! <3

Cringey, embarrassed smut? That’s a first for me, and I’m kind of excited LOL. Hopefully this is what you’re looking for!

After Writing Notes: Yaknow, every time I start one of these things, I tell myself I'm going to make it shorter...Anyway, here's 9000 words. Hope you enjoy! Also, huge shoutout to @notyourmomsromancenovel for helping me come up with ideas for cringey smut.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: injury, fainting, smut (in the goofiest way ever)

Beautiful Mistakes

When you pictured Noah Sebastian - front man and lead vocalist in the viral metal-core band Bad Omens - you pictured something way different.

You had been following the band’s work for a while and, like everyone else, had noticed the immediate shift in their persona and presence. You had been a softcore fan of theirs since 2018, and spent many nights on Twitch, playing Elden Ring and listening to his streams as background noise. Sometimes you had been one of the only people in the chat, listening to him produce his beats or record rough vocals. Other times, you sat and chatted with him while he idly played guitar.

Once the pandemic hit full force, there were plenty of nights you sat and talked to Noah, watching the hilarity that ensued. Cat-eared headset on and music playing, Noah would stare at his screen, munching on the Body of Christ and making ridiculous noises.

“Where are my regulars? I need someone to talk to!”

/CrossContaminate/: I’m right here, calm down.

“Hey! Cross is here! I haven’t seen you in a while.”

/CrossContaminate/: I have a job, Noah. You wouldn’t know about that. 😝

“Woooooow…” He pressed a hand to his chest and stared straight into the camera. “That one stung, girl.”

/CrossContaminate/: How do you know I’m a girl? I could be a 50 year old dude, yaknow.

He raised his eyebrows at that. “You’ve got a point. Maybe you should come on video chat with all of us so we can be sure.” He lowered his glasses down on his nose and looked dead into the camera. “For my own safety, of course.”

You cackled loudly at this, typing out your response.

/CrossContaminate/: Nah, I don’t vid chat. You’ll just have to take my word for it.

He rolled his eyes, and smirked. “Same old Cross, I see.”

Noah tried to get you to join video chat regularly often over the years. He had DM'ed you a few times when he saw you were online, wanting to voice call or join a Discord with him, to which you always declined.

You didn’t have a hard and fast rule against chatting online with people via voice or video, you just didn’t do it. Your life was busy and hectic. You didn’t have a ton of time to yourself, so the nights where you got to sit and just not exist in the real world, and only online, it was nice to just remain anonymous.

You had stumbled across Noah’s Twitch by accident once, when looking for something different. His face captured you, however, and once you clicked into it, you were hooked. It wasn’t so much because he was good looking - he was definitely a cutie - but he looked ridiculous.

His hair was long and haphazard. He was wearing an oversized hoodie, drinking cheap wine straight from the bottle, and he was wearing huge bottle cap sunglasses. It was, by far, the goofiest thing you had seen in a long time. He was playing Dead Space, and would jump at the smallest noises, nearly screaming anytime a monster popped into the frame.

But, as all things, time moved on, and he changed. Once the pandemic was waning down, he had began preparing for the release of his next album. The streams became less frequent, and he put his account on a permanent hiatus.

It was a bummer, so you couldn’t help but try keeping track of him on socials. He was decently active on Twitter and Instagram, but even that began to slow down. He had enough followers that your personal account went unnoticed by him.

Aside from his online presence, his appearance also changed pretty dramatically in a very short time. He cut all of his hair off, which, to be entirely honest, broke your heart some. You had always loved the innocence he seemed to maintain by having the long hair. It hurt your feelings to see it go, but you had to admit, the short hair was something else entirely.

Before, Noah typically stuck to regular t-shirts and jeans, simple and timeless rock and roll fashion. Once they started touring for TDOPOM album, you noticed the dramatic change in their stage presence. Ski masks, all black clothing, track pants, and heavy coats. Noah usually ended the set in a black wife-beater top, and you noticed the other change.

He was fucking stacked, now. Noah had always been skinny and long - like a toothpick. Not anymore. His shoulders had broadened, his neck was thicker, and his arms were defined and muscular. That was a change you didn’t mind at all.

What happened? Was second puberty a thing? Because you swore that could be the only explanation for such a drastic difference in Noah in such a short time period.

Although you watched the band from afar, you never had made any time to go see them live, always working anymore. That sucked, because even if you had, it’s not like you’d be able to see him. He was too big of a celebrity now, and you were far from. He likely wouldn’t even remember you, so you never bothered.

As silly as it sounded, it almost hurt your feelings the same as watching an old friend change and grow apart from you over time, even though that wasn’t exactly the case here.

Although, you rationalized that you and him did speak nearly every day for almost two whole years - so it wasn’t that silly, was it?

So you were absolutely floored when your best friend called you, random Friday evening, and asked you for a favor.

“I booked a gig for tomorrow, and I know it’s last minute, but the guy who was supposed to be helping ate some bad sushi or something, and I could desperately use a hand.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes, trying not to be too loud in the Target checkout line.

“It’s my only day off, Iz.”

She huffed. “I know, I know, but I promise it pays really well!”

You growled into the receiver. “Dude, I just did a gig last night, and I have another to do tonight!”

“It’s only four hours! And it pays twelve hundred.”

You were ready to protest, but stopped. “Total?”

“A piece.”

“Fuck, dude. That’s more than double what a normal gig that long pays.”

“I know, that’s why I’m saying, worth the exhaustion.”

You finished scanning your items, pulling your card out to pay. “That kind of money, probably a big band. Who is it?”

“Bad Omens, have you heard of them?”

You stopped, eyes snapping up and fingers stalling at the card reader. “No shit, huh?”

“So, you have heard of them?”

You grabbed your bag, making your way outside. “Yeah, actually. Remember that guy on Twitch I used to talk to?”

“Noah?” It took her a second to put the pieces together, so you stayed silent while she did. “Oh, Noah! As in Noah Sebastian!”

“Bingo.”

“Well shit! Maybe he remembers you!”

You shook your head, taking a long gulp of your iced coffee. “Mm-mm,” You set the drink down. “he never saw my face or heard my voice. Didn’t even know my real name.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. Only knew me by my tag. He called me ‘Cross’ for short.”

“Ah, okay, so he’ll have no idea who you are!” She laughed at this.

You switched the call to your Bluetooth and sighed. “I guess, since you asked so fucking nicely and I need to pay my rent, I will agree to do the gig with you.”

She squeaked in appreciation. “You’re saving my ass, dude.”

You shrugged. “Pick me up at least two hours before. We need time to prepare.”

“Noon, then?”

“I’ll be ready.”

You and Isobel were known, by the official term in the industry, as Venue Assistants. You were independent contractors who were recommended to acts by the venues, and hired by those bands for specific occasions to help ensure a smooth, easy show. This could mean anything from stocking the green room, switching out instruments, helping with outfit changes, grabbing anything the artists needed. It was an exhausting job, and you had been doing it for about five years now. As tiring as it was, it paid well, and it was a lot of fun. You had the opportunity to meet some of the best bands in the industry - and some of the worst. You had more stories to tell than anyone, and you wouldn’t change careers if you were paid to.

At the venue the following day, you had received word from the stage director that the band was running behind, and they needed you both to grab food and coffees for all of them. Typically, you’d roll your eyes at this, but you didn’t immediately, as you knew life happened, and it could’ve happened for a lot of reasons. You had gone and grabbed the guys their Chinese food while Iz picked up the Starbucks order, and arrived back at the theater just before the band did.

They came in, all looking rather tired and irritated. Noah was the last to enter, baseball hat on his head and wearing basketball shorts under his large hoodie.

“All I’m saying is, I don’t know how you had no idea the window would break.” The man who you recognized to be Jolly was still lecturing Noah as they came in, dropping their bags down.

You and Isobel were in the back of the room, speaking with the crew who were preparing to bring in the instruments and equipment. You planned to help unload it all, so you were listening to the stage director instruct them on where to place everything.

“It was a stress ball! Why would I think it would break the window?!”

“Because it was hard?” Folio piped up as he sat down, tearing into the food.

“Look, it’s not a huge deal. Safelite said they can have it fixed before tomorrow. It’ll be fine!”

You shook your head, sincerely wondering what the hell they were talking about. Your attention, however, was pulled back to Isobel. You followed her out to the truck where the loading ramp was being pulled down.

“You going to talk to him?” She asked as she began pulling a mic stand out. You grabbed one of the smaller amps, and followed her back to the delivery door.

“Probably not. We’ve got a lot to do.”

“I mean,” She set the stand down and looked over to where the band sat, apparently still arguing amongst themselves, and looked back at you. “you could go talk to him now? I can unload this with the guys.”

“I need to earn my paycheck too, Iz.”

“Why don’t you want to talk to him?”

You stopped walking away, turning to look at her. “I never said that.”

“So go talk to him? He’s just a guy.”

You sighed, narrowing your eyes at her. “Fine, I will.”

Stomping back toward the couches of the green room, you heard her laugh behind you. It wasn’t any big deal, you didn’t see why she was bugging you about this. You inhaled a big breath, and walked straight up to the group, noticing they were all now sat and eating.

“Hey guys.” You waved a hand at them. “I don’t mean to bug you while you’re eating. I just wanted to introduce myself. I’ll be one of your VA’s for the evening. If you need anything at all, or have any preferences I should be aware of, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

They all set their food down and stood, pushing their hands out for you to shake. You took each one gracefully, hearing them tell you their names, which you already knew.

The last to introduce himself was Noah, who, while leaning over the table to take your grasp, knocked a bottle of soy sauce down, causing you to jump back. It was too late, and your dark blue jeans had black splatter on them.

“Fuck! I’m so sorry!”

You grabbed a napkin and patted at the spots quickly, waving. “No, it’s okay. It shouldn’t stain.” Hopefully.

Nicholas grabbed a roll of paper towels from the back table and cleaned it up quickly, smiling sheepishly at you. “You’ll have to excuse Noah. He’s as clumsy as they come.”

Noah smacked a hand at his shoulder. “Not true, dick.” He looked back up at you apologetically. “Again, I’m so sorry.”

Moving around the table to approach him, you took his hand. “It’s really no problem.”

“I didn’t catch your name?” You gave it to him, and he smiled brightly at you. “That’s different?”

Smirking, you nodded. “It is. You can just call me Cross.”

For a second, you weren’t sure he was going to get it. His hand continued shaking yours for an unnecessarily long time while his brow furrowed, staring at you. After a moment, he cocked his head to the side.

“Cross…” He strung the word out on his tongue. “As in…” You could actually see the light bulb go off behind his eyes, and they popped open wide.

“Oh shit!” His hand let go of yours, and suddenly he was grabbing you by the forearms, startling you a bit. “No fucking way!”

He was smiling way bigger than you expected, but in that smile, you saw that same goofy guy that used to sit with you for hours, chatting online and dicking around.

“I wasn’t sure you’d remember.” You grinned back at him, trying to push down the little bit of butterflies that started trying to scoot their way into your chest.

You noticed how his face fell just slightly when you said it, likely remembering quite how long it had been. “Of course I remember.” His voice was even, but he still looked enthused.

“Well, it’s good to finally meet you.”

He looked up and down at you, taking a step back for effect. “Yeah, same here. I guess you aren’t a fifty year old dude after all.”

Your face flushed at that, and you shook your head. “Nope. Sorry to disappoint.”

“Care to introduce?” Jolly stood behind you, and you turned to see him stand with a raised eyebrow.

Noah took the initiative to push you slightly toward the rest of the band.

“You guys remember when I used to stream all the time? And I had that one chick who used to join every day and chat with me for hours? She was the one who used to tell people I was a Billie Eilish fan page.” He looked down at you with an eyebrow raised, and you broke out in hard laughter.

“Well, you practically were, Noah!”

He shook his head, turning to tower over you. “I was not! I just like her music!”

Folio stood up, smiling wide. “Oh, dude I remember that! Didn’t she hack into your account and change your profile photo and everything?”

Noah glared down at you, which caused a whole new fit of giggles to erupt.

“What?! It got you more subs!”

He rolled his eyes and pulled your arm, moving you to sit on the couch next to him.

“How have you been?” He shoved a mouthful of chow mein and spoke around his food. “I know it’s been a while, I’m sorry.”

You just shook your head. “No need to apologize. You’ve been busy.”

He beamed at that. “Have you heard the new album?”

“I have. It’s really great.”

“You think? I appreciate that.”

You sat back, watching how he inhaled the food in front of him. “Also, I’ve been good. Also keeping busy.”

Wiping his mouth on a napkin, he nodded. “This is what you do? Full time?”

“Yeah, been doing it a while. I like it.”

He leaned back also, arms falling into his lap. The other guys had began to disperse, heading to different parts of the building to begin their preparations.

"That's cool."

The conversation fell silent between you both, and you cleared your throat. "Well, it's really good to see you, Noah."

He affirmed with a nod, chewing on his lip. "I feel bad for not keeping in touch."

"Oh stop. You had no way to reach me other than Twitch."

"That's true. I don't have social media anymore, either." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, I saw that."

The quiet was strange and uncomfortable, and you decided not to stall your job any longer. "Well, I'd better get back to work."

He stood too, bumping into your shoulder as he did, nearly knocking you back into the couch. Instantly, his hand reached out to grab you.

"Shit!" He exclaimed, and in his attempt to hook your arm, his hand missed, and grabbed a full hand of your right breast.

A sharp gasp tumbled out of you, and he pulled his hand back with haste, causing you to lose your balance again, and fall backward, the back of your head smacking the arm of the couch.

"Damn it!" He crouched down to grab you, but your hand came up in front of you.

"Uhm," You squeezed your eyes closed, clearing the spots that formed in your vision. "I got it."

Sitting up, you rubbed at the back of your head. He sat down again, keeping about a foot of distance between you.

"I'm so fucking sorry."

Your eyes opened, seeing the look of absolute shame and guilt painted on his face. It was comical.

What a fucking doofus.

"Noah," You turned your head back and forth to assess if your neck was injured. It wasn't. "I think your clumsiness is spreading."

His face fell in his hands. "I'm so sorry." He apologized again, groaning loudly. "I don't know what's wrong with me today!"

"Everyone has off days." You assured, taking a moment before you stood back up.

"Not like today. I broke a window in the tour bus this morning, that's why we were late."

Your mouth fell open. "You broke the window?"

"I didn't mean to! I had one of those squishy stress-ball things? It was real firm, cause it was new. So I was trying to soften it up by squeezing it, and I thought, maybe if I bounced it a few times, it would get softer..."

Your eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "You didn't..."

"I just tossed it gently and the fucking thing broke a hole clean out of the window!"

Maybe it was the near-concussion or the obscenity of it all, but a guttural laughter came out of you, making you fall back onto the couch clutching your sides.

"It's not funny!" Noah tried to argue, but ended up laughing with you, his bravado deflating.

"Ah, Noah," You wiped the tears spilling from your eyes. "you really haven't changed."

After your unfortunate accident earlier, Noah had insisted on exchanging numbers with you, so he could check in and make sure you were okay throughout the night. This was after he failed to convince you to go get checked out at an ER, and swore him to not tell anyone what happened. The last thing you needed was an incident in the workplace.

Noah was half an hour from going onstage, and you were on the side stage, checking the battery level of all of the microphones. Your phone buzzed in your back pocket and you rolled your eyes. It had been nearly constant for the last three hours.

Noah: Checking in. How's the head?

You sighed, typing a quick response.

You: Same as it was twenty minutes ago - normal.

Noah: Any pain?

You: No.

That wasn't entirely true. You had a dull throbbing at the base of your skull, but you were doing a great job of ignoring it.

Noah: Okay. Where are you?

You: Stage left. I'm covering you and Folio tonight, so I'm checking the mics and making sure all your stuff is ready.

Noah: Cool. Need any help?

You: Shouldn't you be getting ready?

Noah: Yeah, probably.

You snickered, staring at your screen before sending the next message.

You: If I didn't know better, I'd think you concussed me just to ask me for my number.

It was stupid, but you couldn't help but fuck with him a little bit. His response came quickly.

Noah: Maybe I did. ;P

You scowled down at the phone. What the hell?

His type bubble appeared quickly, another message coming in.

Noah: Wait, that sounded creepy. I'm kidding, I swear.

You: Suuuuuuure

He read that message, but didn't respond. You had definitely caught him a little off-guard and it made you laugh. You stared down at the winking face emoji, and it dawned on you that he was flirting with you. You visibly shivered, somewhat stunned.

Noah Sebastian was tall, dark, and sexy in almost every video and interview you had watched of him since he went dark over a year ago...but inside, it appeared he was still just as dorky and uncoordinated as you always knew him to be. You didn't realize it was quite this bad, however.

And not only was he clumsy, he was bad at flirting too...

You shook off the feeling, trying your hardest not to smile at the thought. Despite the ickiness of it all, you were flattered. He may be kind of Scooby-Doo-ish, but he was handsome, and talented. He also had a soft, deep side of him that you had the pleasure of seeing on more than one occasion.

Maybe he was just nervous? Maybe you could just go with it and see how it turned out?

You resolved to push it to the back of your mind for the time being, placing yourself back into your professional work mindset as the show began.

Noah was entirely different on stage, completely in control and flowing effortlessly through the songs. He looked like an entirely different person out there. He would pop back to the sides here and there to get some water, switch out his mic, or wipe the sweat from his face. Each time, he'd give you a look of concern, and ask about your head again. You would just shush him and push him back out onto the stage.

You were also covering Folio, who was up on the riser, beating away at his drum set. The stairs you had to climb were tall, and after the third trip up here, you felt the room tilt like it was turning on it's side. You held the railing, catching Folio's eye as the darkened room began lighting up again.

He mouthed at you a quick 'You good?' and you just nodded, throwing him a thumbs up, and heading back down the stairs. Noah was stood, gulping his water, and staring at you.

"I saw that. What's wrong?"

You shook your head. "Nothing, go, the next song is starting."

He pressed a hand into your shoulder, now looking much more stern than worried. "I don't care. Are you okay?"

Still trying to brush it off, you grabbed hold of his arm, trying to push him away. It didn't occur to you that it was also instinctive, as your feet were starting to feel a little numb. "Noah, you don't have time for this."

He stood square in front of you, eyebrows raised and arms crossed over his chest.

"Are. You. Okay?" He enunciated each word, but he suddenly started to look so much taller than he did a second ago. And when did he become so fuzzy?

Your hand squeezed where it was hooked onto his bicep in an attempt to stop the inevitable, but, unfortunately, before he could manage to reach for you, the room went dark.

Your eyes cracked open, a harsh light shining in them, and you squinted against it.

"Hey, you with us?" A blonde man you didn't recognize stared down at you, a stethoscope around his neck and gloves on his hands.

A paramedic. Amazing.

When you looked around, you realized you were on a gurney, sitting in the back of an ambulance with the doors open, in the parking lot of the venue. It was the paramedic that was on call at the theater that night.

"Ugh, no fucking way." You tried to sit up, but a hand pressed onto your shoulder. You shifted your eyes to see Isobel sitting on the bench next to the stretcher. "Iz? What happened?"

The EMT spoke for her, putting his light back in his shirt pocket, and began moving his fingers back and forth in front of your face for you to follow.

"Well, you passed out, and cracked your head on the floor pretty good." You squeezed your eyes closed in frustration. "Big guy in there told us you hit your head earlier, too? That's probably what caused you to faint."

Yeah. Big, dumb, gargantuan guy.

"My head hurts." You winced as the medic turned your neck, checking your range of motion.

"I'm sure it does. You're all intact, it appears, but given that this was the second impact today, I strongly suggest going to the ER to get a scan."

You rolled your eyes, trying again to sit up. "I don't think-"

Isobel cut you off. "We're going."

The EMT nodded, and reached to begin shutting the doors. Admitting defeat, you carefully laid your head back down. The vehicle started moving and you let out a hard breath.

"We're so not getting paid for tonight."

Iz laughed, shaking her head. "I think it'll be fine. Noah was in a near panic attack when he moved you to the couch. Kept saying it was all his fault."

You snickered. "Kind of is."

"He wanted to cancel the rest of the show, but I told him you'd have a full stroke if he did that because of you."

Your eyes popped open, and you tried to sit up. "He didn't do that, did he?!"

The EMT pressed you back down. "Easy, easy."

Isobel patted your shoulder. "No, he didn't."

You melted back onto the bed. "Oh thank fuck for that."

The ride to the Emergency Room was short, and the nurses made quick work of getting you into a rollable bed and carting you off to get a CT scan of your head and neck. That was mundane, but they had given you something decent for the pain, so it wasn't so bad. You hummed to yourself as you were rolled back to your room, and Isobel was missing. You whipped your head around, looking to see if she was anywhere to be found, but a voice came from the opposite side.

"She went to get a snack."

Noah stood by the doorway, hands in the pockets of his cargo pants, white t-shirt on, and a beanie over his hair. He had cleaned up since the show, you could tell.

"The show is over already?"

He huffed out a laugh, stepping over to the end of your bed. "Yeah, for a little while now. You've been at the hospital for two hours."

You raised your eyebrows, but it didn't phase you too much. "Time flies when you're on morphine, I suppose."

His hands gripped the rails at the end of the bed. "How you doing?"

You nodded, sinking against the mattress. "I mean, I've been better, but I've been worse."

He lifted an eyebrow at you, and moved to perch himself on the very edge of the end of the bed. "Yeah? That's...better than nothing?"

You nodded, looking him up and down. He looked more like himself in this outfit, and you liked it. It felt more genuine.

"How did the rest of the show go?"

He shrugged his shoulders, hands still in his pockets. "Good, I guess. I was stressed, so I felt like I kind of rushed through it."

You brought your arms up behind your head, getting comfortable. "You shouldn't have. I'm good."

Noah deadpanned at you. "Obviously you weren't. You should've gone to the hospital earlier."

You scoffed. "Oh well. Doesn't matter now."

He was leaned over, his shoulder pulled in and he looked nervous.

"What's wrong?"

"What?" He looked bewildered.

"You look upset or something?"

He snickered, readjusting his feet on the floor. "Well, I gave you a concussion, couldn't convince you to get checked out and agreed not to tell anyone, which led to you getting an even worse concussion, and you're now potentially bleeding into your brain... That's probably got something to do with it."

You waved a hand at him. "Details. It's not a big deal."

He shook his head, looking at the wall adjacent from him and not at you. "This is not how I pictured us getting to meet."

This interested you, so you probed. "You pictured us meeting?"

He smirked. "We talked for a couple years, Cross. Of course I did."

"And how was that supposed to go?" High or not, you were curious.

He chuckled, still not looking at you. "Not like this."

You rolled your eyes. "Well, duh. But what did you expect?"

"I don't know. Something normal? Hanging at a movie or getting food? Like normal people?"

You cackled. "Well, you're not normal, Noah."

"Clearly." He said through grit teeth.

Leaning back again, you relaxed, and pursed your lips. "Were you trying to flirt with me earlier?"

You could tell this caught him by surprise, as he began looking nervous again. "What do you mean?"

"Well, either your were trying to flirt, or you actually gave me a concussion just to get my phone number."

He bit back a laugh, looking at you sheepishly. "Yeah, no that wasn't on purpose. Just a bad joke."

"Well, you could've just asked for my number, is all I'm saying."

He shook with soft laughter. "Noted." He stood then, turning toward the doorway where Isobel could be seen coming down the hallway. "Well, I mostly wanted to make sure you were okay. I should go."

Something about that didn't feel right to you, and you sat up a little quickly, your brain sloshing slightly in your skull, but you ignored it.

"You're leaving?" In your inebriated mind, you pictured yourself looking silly and desperate, but your logic knew that likely was just the drugs talking.

“Yeah, well, you don’t need a disaster magnet hanging around.” He said looking timid.

Isobel had joined you back in the bedroom, and was turning to look between the both of you.

“Everything okay?” She stared at Noah, and he reached a hand to palm the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I was just getting ready to head out.”

Your mouth moved before you could stop it. “No he wasn’t.”

Both of their heads snapped to look up at you, and he looked so puzzled. “No?”

You shook your head, soft smile adorning your face. “No, not unless you have somewhere to be.”

Isobel picked up on the tension in the room and made a show to look at her smart watch.

“Oh damn, look at that, I’m getting a call. Be right back.”

She slipped from the room and Noah focused his stare back on you.

“You want me to stay?”

You nodded, crossing your legs in front of you and sitting straight.

“That could be hazardous, you know?” He joked, but rounded back around by the bed, sitting a little closer to you on the edge.

“I don’t care.”

It took what felt like forever for the doctor to finally enter the room, interrupting yours and Noah’s game of hot hands you were playing while Iz sat in a chair on the side, chatting idly about the next gig she had booked for Motionless in White.

“Ah, I see your coordination is no issue.” The doctor spoke right as your hand came down to slap the back of Noah’s hard, forcing him to pull away hastily and hiss in pain.

You giggled, and turned to face the physician. “How’s my head?” He looked down at his paperwork, nodding in approval. Noah moved off the bed so the doctor could come around and shine a light at your eyes for the hundredth time.

“Looks good. No bleeds, no fractures. You shouldn’t have any lasting side effects aside from some headaches for a few days.” You smiled and glanced at Noah, seeing the physical relief he breathed out.

“You need to follow up with a neurologist in one week, and you need to stay in bed for at least five days.”

You grunted in disapproval. “That sucks.”

He sucked his teeth. “I know, but it’s just a precaution. Do you live with someone? Parents? Roommate? Boyfriend?”

If Noah were a dog, his ears would have been perking at that last word.

You shook your head. “Just me.”

He shrugged. “I don’t like the idea of you being alone. Can you stay with someone until you can go to the neurologist?”

I sunk down. “Not really? I have a cat that needs to be looked after.”

“I can come stay with you.” Isobel spoke up from her side of the bed, and I smiled at her appreciatively.

“Okay, good. I think I can get you out of here, then. No blood thinners for a few days, just Tylenol for pain. You experience any odd symptoms or pain that’s unbearable, you come straight back, yes?”

You nodded, and he smiled.

“Great, I’ll put in for the discharge.”

You turned to look at her, reaching out for her to take your hand. “You didn’t have to do that, Iz.”

She smirked. “Someone has to.”

You laughed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Can we just stop by my place? I’ve got a couple things I need to do, it’ll take a couple hours, probably. Or I can drop you off and head back over?”

“She shouldn’t be alone, though, right?” Noah piped up from where he stood on the opposing side of the bed.

You sighed. “I’m so tired though. I want to go home and get in my sweats.”

He pursed his lips, mind working while looking at your face, before glancing back up to Isobel.

“Why don’t I take her home, and I can hang with her till you get there? That way you can do what you need to, but she can go home and get comfortable?”

Isobel eyed you, wanting to hear your thoughts on it before she answered. You just shrugged in response, and she slowly tore her eyes off of you to look back at Noah.

“Alright, but be careful driving her home.” She smiled in a patronizing fashion. “You can understand my hesitation after today.”

He clenched his jaw, knowing exactly what she meant, and looked back down at you. You felt your cheeks heat up under his gaze.

His eyes fell back to Iz, that sternness returning in his tone.

“I‘ll be careful.”

The drive back to your apartment was silent, the air hanging with uncertainty. The only sound above the whir of the motor was you giving directions to your place, and Noah humming his understanding.

It took until you were over halfway there for him to look at you, eyes looking sad.

“Feel like the morphine’s wearing off?”

You were rubbing at your temples, and you snorted. “How could you tell?”

He smirked. “I’m so sorry.”

You groaned. “Noah, if you apologize one more time, I’m going to slap you.”

He sucked his lips in and looked back out the windshield.

“It wasn’t your fault, it happens.”

His knuckles flexed on the steering wheel and he inhaled a long breath. "It's actually, technically, one hundred percent my fault." He admitted, gritting his teeth.

He pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex, and his vehicle came to a stop just outside of your building.

"I don't suppose you live on the first floor?" He chanced, but you shook your head.

"Third." He looked like he was about to start stressing, but you smiled. "There's an elevator."

This made him relax back in his seat before he stepped out, moving quickly to your side and letting you out.

He carried your bag and sweater in his arms as you led up to the elevator, and down the hall to your small one-bedroom apartment. Once inside, your white, short-haired cat bound up to you both, meowing with fervor.

Noah looked down at her, and back up to you. You reached down and scooped up her small body with one hand, holding her to your chest.

"Noah, this is Narcissa."

He smiled, petting her head with one finger, which she accepted graciously.

"She's probably starving, I'd better feed her." Before you could move toward the kitchen, he put a hand on your arm.

"Let me. Where's her food?"

You pointed him in the right direction, taking the moment to head into your bedroom, kicking your shoes off and reaching for a t-shirt from the closet and a pair of shorts from the drawer of your long dresser. He appeared in the doorway right after you had slipped the shirt over your head, and he leaned against the frame.

"She's fed. Anything I can get you?"

You panned around the room, thinking for a moment. "I've got some chips and salsa in the kitchen. Chips in the pantry and salsa in the fridge. Want to grab it and meet me in the living room?"

He nodded, heading to complete his task. You padded over to the couch, dropping down onto the soft cushions, and pulled your sofa blanket over you. He joined you after a moment, setting the food on the coffee table, your phone next to it.

"Thought you'd want that."

He sat and watched the television as you flipped through Hulu, looking for something to watch. You could feel how uncomfortable he was, trying so hard to keep a wide distance from you, likely so as not to hurt you.

"Noah?"

He looked over, eyebrows raised. "Hmm?"

You made a show of relaxing back on the couch, and motioned for him to do the same. "Take a breath. I'm fine."

He tried, leaning back and exhaling loudly. "You okay with Evil Dead? It's one of my favorites."

"Sure. I've seen it a couple times."

You sat back, now munching on some chips, and offered him the bag. He grabbed some, crunching on them loudly.

The movie played, but you could feel how, as he finally did begin to relax, he was moving somewhat closer to you. It was fascinating. He wasn't doing it on purpose, it was almost as if he was a magnet, and you were the pole it attached to.

"Can I ask you a question?" He looked over at you, listening. "Why did you go dark?"

You could see he was baffled by the so off-topic ask, and he took a moment to gather his thoughts.

"Uh," He looked back at you. "A lot of reasons, really."

"Mm." You nodded, setting the chips back on the table. "Why did you go dark on me?"

This caught his complete attention, and his body turned to face you. "What?"

"You didn't even say bye or anything. You just...stopped coming online. And I had no way to reach out."

He furrowed his brow. "I'm a little surprised you wanted to, Cross."

"Why?"

He made a noise that sounded nearly annoyed. "Well, you never wanted to talk on a call. You never showed your face. You wouldn't even tell me your real name."

Guilt sunk in to your gut, reminding you that he was absolutely right.

"I just figured you weren't interested in maintaining the friendship beyond what it was, so I didn't think about it."

You nodded, understanding. There was nothing wrong with it, but it still sort of hurt your feelings.

"I get it. I was just curious."

"Why didn't you ever reach out?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but had to stop, because you realized...you didn't know. There wasn't a clear, concise reason why. Maybe you liked the idea of Noah being just an idea? A friend? Someone who didn't know you, and all that came with? Maybe it made it easier to feel safe talking to him?

He noticed you were uncomfortable with the conversation, and waved it off. "It doesn't matter now."

You had to agree with that. It wasn't going to change anything.

"Well, let's just watch the movie and you can rest."

You leaned back on the couch, and it wasn't lost on you that Noah was slowly scooting closer still, only now, you were pretty sure he was doing it on purpose. The room felt warm, and you adjusted under the blanket to kick a leg out, it being pressed against his. His eyes darted down to where you had touched him, and back up to your face. You kept your eyes straight ahead, smirking at the situation.

He leaned forward, pulling his beanie off and running his hand through his hair. "Is it warm in here?"

You smiled, just dropping your shoulders. He leaned back, and tried so desperately to smoothly slip an arm on the back of the couch, stretching at the same time.

He wasn't actually doing this, was he?

He was adorable, despite how absolutely ridiculous he was. He was nervous, and you knew that, but you worked overtime to hide your amusement, just shifting so you were pressed into his side.

His hand hesitated on the back of the couch, twitching as if he wanted to just wrap it around your shoulders, your head now resting on his chest.

You sighed loudly. "Noah, just put your arm around me."

"Yup." He gripped you, and adjusted to curl into him closer, leg falling over his. You giggled at him, and he pressed his face into the top of your head, embarrassed. "Clearly, I'm not good at this."

The movie played on, and at the scarier parts, you gripped his shirt tightly. You weren't very spooked, but it was what you did when snuggling on the couch with a cute boy, so you just went with it.

"Cross?" His voice was small, and you pressed in closer to hear him better.

"Hmm?"

"I really want to kiss you, but I'm kind of," He cleared his throat. "afraid?"

You scrunched up your nose and lifted your face to look at him. "Afraid?" His eyes were so big and doe-like, it pulled at something in your chest.

"Yeah, after all that's happened today? What if I miss and...I don't know...break your nose, or something?"

It took a second, but your face broke out in a large grin and you started laughing like a hyena. It was so absurd.

"What?!"

You had to take a breath, the ache in your head beginning to throb a little harder with your labored breathing. "I'm sorry!" You squeaked out, trying to contain yourself.

"Is it that hard to believe?"

You shook your head. "It's not." You could barely hold the giggles in. "That's why it's so funny."

He narrowed his eyes, pulling his arm from where it was wrapped around your back, but you pushed in closer, finally halting your laughing and looked at him.

"Noah," You lifted one hand to press your palm against his cheek. "if you want to kiss me, just do it."

His eyes flipped between both of yours, considering, before he leaned in and you closed your eyes.

Problem is, so did he...

His top teeth collided into yours making a harsh clacking sound, and causing you both to pull away hastily.

"God damn it!" His hand pressed into his gums, and he stared at you. "Are you okay?" You were laughing again, and he growled. "Maybe we should just not even try."

The tears in your eyes glistened, making him look glittery in your vision, and you just smiled brightly at him.

"Fucking hell, Noah."

You lifted yourself up, grabbing his face, and pressing your mouth to his, this time without incident. Your lips molded to his, and you felt him let out a breath he had been holding. His hands cautiously grabbed you, gently moving you to position so you straddled him, lips not disconnecting as he did.

Your hands gripped his hair, pulling his head back and exposing his neck. Your lips went to work laying featherlike kisses on the soft skin when you heard his voice.

"Uhm, Cross?" He was out of breath, and his chest was heaving. "We probably shouldn't do anything too crazy, on account of the concussion." His voice sounded unconvinced, but still, you pulled back, raising an eyebrow at him.

"My brain is fine. Now, let me have some fun, for fucking once."

His fingers dug into your sides, and your tongue was tracing his tattoos on the side of his throat.

"B-But, I really don't know if we should. The doctor said-"

You pulled back again, this time becoming annoyed. "The doctor said I needed to stay in bed. This counts."

"Okay, but, what if it makes it worse?"

You deflated a bit, hands falling down onto your lap. "Do you not want to do this?" Your voice had cracked just slightly, and you silently cursed yourself for it.

His eyes bulged, and he grabbed you harder. "No, I do! I really, really do. I just don't want to hurt you."

Even with the concern and empathy in his voice, you couldn't help but grind down onto his hips, noticing his pants were significantly tighter, and pull a moan straight out of his chest.

"You won't Noah. At least, not in a bad way." You wiggled your brows at him and gripped the sides of his neck.

He looked confused. "Is there a good way?" Incredulously, you dropped your forehead on his chest, his mind catching up a second later. "Oh! Oh right! Sorry, I don't know where my mind is right now."

You just kissed him again, tired of talking - or whatever that was - about it. Noah lifted his hips to push into you, which was the first thing he had done right all evening. You felt his erection beneath the layers of fabric between you, the friction delicious against your crotch. This time, he began placing soft kisses on your neck, barely touching the skin and teasing you.

His fingers loosened around your hips and wandered up to your shirt, slipping underneath and goosebumps rose on your skin where he touched. His hands found your breasts and took them in handfuls.

You couldn't help but giggle at the memory that flashed through your head, which caused him to look up at you.

"What?"

You smiled down at him. "Nothing, it's just that you grabbed my chest earlier when you tried to catch me. I was just thinking, I like this better."

He sighed, his head falling back. "I was hoping you hadn't noticed that."

You kissed him again, pressing back down on him, and regaining his attention.

"Noah?" His eyes looked at yours, his body now rhythmically pressing into you. "Fuck me? Please?"

You didn't mean to sound quite so needy, but it just came out that way. You were aching so bad for it, and you felt as if he didn't slip inside you soon, you may explode.

His eyes darkened, and he smiled back at you, his arms flexing around your waist and lifting you gently to lay you down on the couch. Hands making quick work of your shorts, pulling them off and staring at you. You may have forgotten to put panties on when you changed earlier, so he was marveling at the sight in front of him.

His tongue darted out to lick his lips before he pulled his own pants and boxers down, exposing his cock. You were impressed. Where Noah lacked grace and technique, he made up elsewhere. He slipped his hand into his pocket, fishing his wallet out. He located the condom quickly and applied it, giving himself a few long strokes as his free hand slid down your stomach, fingertips running through your folds for a second.

"You're sure it won't hurt you?" His mouth was hung open, and you rolled your eyes in response.

You reached your arms up, grabbing at him and pulling him down toward you. He fell forward with you, and his hand came down hard on the edge of the coffee table by mistake. He pulled it back, yelping.

"Fuck!" He shook out his hand, and you grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you.

"It's okay. Just look at me." Doing as he was told, his dick pressed against your entrance, nudging for approval.

You rocked your hips up, assisting him as he slipped partially inside of you. The stretch burned incredibly, your eyes rolling back with it.

"Oh, wow." Your words were just breaths, arms wrapping around his neck. "T-That's...wow."

Noah's hips pulled back before snapping forward, driving into you with force. Your body shook with the feeling, clenching down around him. His lips were pressing kisses into the skin on your jaw and collarbone, adding to the lovely sensation.

"Holy fuck, Noah." You lifted your legs to lock around his waist, pushing your hips up. "Harder."

He rammed your body into the cushions, the back of the couch smacking the wall loudly.

"J-Jesus. So good." His words were so quiet, you almost didn't hear. His face was buried in your neck, sweat forming in his hair. "You're so tight."

His whispers were pushing you off the edge. "Ugh, keep talking to me." Your hands gripped his hair, pulling at the roots.

"Fucking can't take it, it's so good. So perfect. So wet." He was railing you so hard, you felt as though you may cry from the sensation. "Just want to stay buried inside you all night, baby."

His words came out so softly, so soothingly that you let your body relax and let go, orgasm ready to tip.

That is, until...

"Ow..." It was almost silent. "Oww..." That was louder. "Ow! Ouch! Fuck!" He sat up suddenly, falling back on the couch.

You sat up, your head still spinning. "What's wrong?!" Your hands wandered over him, but he lifted his leg up on the couch, gripping his calf.

"Fucking leg cramp." His fingers pressed into the visibly tight muscle, and you fell backward, orgasm officially lost.

"I'm sorry!" He tried to reach for you, but you lifted your head, shooting him a warning glance. He pulled back, face turning a deep shade of red.

His cock, however, was stood at full attention still.

Rolling your tongue around in your mouth, you swung your legs off the couch and stood. You pointed to the cushions, and demanded him. "Lay down."

Without hesitation, he did as he was told, laying flat on his back, and stared at you longingly.

Wasting no time, you sat down, sliding onto him with ease now that you'd had a chance to adjust. The angle made you feel so full, so satiated. You let out a long, comfortable moan.

His hands grabbed you, and you began to rock back and forth, begging to chase that lost climax. He peered up at you through half-masked lids, fingers gripping your thighs now.

"Is that better, baby?" You nodded, fingernails scratching down his chest. "Going to come this way? Make a mess all over me?"

Just like Noah was on stage, when he was fucking, he liked to be in control. He was good at it, too.

You nodded, pressing your clit into the skin of his pubic bone. The friction combined with the pressure he was putting on that spot inside you had your thrusts more erratic.

"Can't last like this, honey. You're going to make me come if you keep riding me so fucking good."

His hips were rocking up into you, finding the wave you were riding and helping it wash over you.

"Noah..." You whimpered, hands digging into the skin of his sides. "I'm going to come."

"Yeah, baby, come for me."

His voice, so deep, raspy, sultry, shoved you over that edge, your body slowing down and spasming around him. His hips only had to buck up two more times before he was groaning, leaving fingerprint bruises in your thighs.

You both stayed still, breathing heavily, staring at each other. A grin creeped up onto your face slowly, a matching expression on his.

Both lost in your own universe, neither of you had heard the front door unlocking...

"Hey! I got finished quicker than I expected, so I-"

Both of your heads whipped to the front door, where Isobel had stepped in, duffel bag on her arm and food bags in the other.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" She turn around, covering her eyes with her hand. "What the fuck!"

You and Noah promptly jumped together, scrambling to right yourselves. He pulled at his pants that were still wrapped around his ankles, and you grabbed the blanket from the couch. He sat upright on the sofa, and you pressed against him, pulling the blanket over yourself.

Mortified, you both waited for her to turn around, which she did, eventually.

"Sorry about that, Iz." You said as you interlaced your fingers with Noah's, who was using his other hand to fully cover his face in humiliation.

"Not what I was expecting to see today!" She squealed, walking past the couch toward the kitchen. "I have food, you fucking pervs."

Once she had left the living room, you and Noah looked up at each other, both blushing furiously at having been caught in the act.

Even with the added mishap, you both broke out into large, shining smiles, laughing at the situation.

What a fucking doofus.

#bad omens #noah sebastian #fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #bad omens cult

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hrts4hanniehae · 14 days ago

Text

Dino's confession

*this is not a representation of the members of svt irl. y/n race and character type will be pre-determined to allow for a better plot.

ty @fairyofhour for the help!!

masterlist

23 Jan 2018

"Hello everyone!! Today we are live with our Gongju and Maknae!" - Jeonghan

"Oppa, I already told you to stop calling me that!" - (Y/N)

Jeonghan, Hoshi, Y/N and Jun sat on the couch while Dino sat on the floor.

"Someone is asking if Dino is comfortable on the floor." - Hoshi

"I'm lonely here." - Dino

"If I join you will you still be lonely?" - Y/N

Y/N immediately got onto floor and sat beside Dino.

"Don’t do things like that you’ll make my heart race more..." - Dino

Nobody thought much of this statement because Y/N and Dino were naturally already very close. But Y/N could feel the change in tone when he said that. It wasn't in a joking tone. It sounded so... real

…

After the live, Y/N confronted Dino.

The dressing room was quiet, the faint hum of the air conditioning the only sound as Y/N stood in front of Dino. His earlier words during the live replayed in her mind, and she couldn’t ignore the shift in his tone. This wasn’t the playful teasing she was used to. It felt... real.

"Dino," Y/N started hesitantly, her voice soft but steady. "What did you mean earlier? When you said your heart raced?"

Dino looked down at his hands, avoiding her gaze. He let out a shaky breath, his usual confident demeanor nowhere to be found. "I..." He paused, struggling to find the right words. "I wasn’t joking, Y/N."

Her eyes widened slightly, her heart skipping a beat. "You weren’t?"

"No," he admitted quietly, finally lifting his gaze to meet hers. His dark eyes were filled with vulnerability, something she rarely saw from him. "Y/N, I’ve liked you for years... since our debut, actually." He let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "I’ve tried to hide it because... well, we’re idols. We’re in the same group. And I didn’t want to ruin what we have."

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She had always been close to Dino—he was her safe space in the chaotic world of being an idol—but this? She hadn’t seen it coming.

"Dino..." she whispered, unsure of what to say.

"I know it’s selfish," he continued quickly, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I know how much scrutiny we already get as a co-ed group. If anyone found out about this—about us—it could cause problems for everyone. For you, for me, for the group." He sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping. "But I couldn’t keep it in anymore."

There was a long pause as Y/N processed his words. The weight of their reality as idols pressed heavily on her chest. She knew he was right—their every move was watched, analyzed, judged. But as she looked at him now, vulnerable and honest in a way he rarely allowed himself to be, she couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through her chest.

"Why didn’t you tell me sooner?" she asked softly.

Dino’s lips quirked into a small, sad smile. "Because I didn’t want to lose you—not as a friend, not as someone I care about so much."

Y/N stepped closer to him then, her heart pounding in her chest. Slowly, tentatively, she reached out and took his hand in hers. His eyes widened at the gesture, and she could feel how clammy his palm was against hers.

"Dino," she said gently, giving his hand a small squeeze. "I don’t know what this means for us yet... but I don’t want to lose you either."

His gaze softened at her words, and for the first time that night, a genuine smile spread across his face—a smile that made her heart flutter.

"You mean that?" he asked quietly.

"I do," Y/N replied with a shy smile of her own.

They stood there for a moment longer, their hands intertwined like they were holding onto something fragile yet precious. Dino’s thumb began to trace small circles on the back of her hand—a simple gesture that made warmth bloom in her chest.

"Whatever happens," Y/N said softly, meeting his gaze with determination despite the uncertainty ahead, "we’ll figure it out together."

Dino nodded slowly, his grip on her hand tightening just slightly as if grounding himself in this small but significant moment. "Together," he echoed.

“Just us,” Dino murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N smiled, her heart racing. And then, in a moment of pure vulnerability, Dino leaned in and pressed the softest, briefest kiss to her lips - a promise, a secret, their own little world.

“Just us,” she echoed.

And for now—for this one fleeting moment—it felt like enough.

current taglist: @fairyofhour @megseungmin @sun-daddy-yoriichi @woozixo @euphoric-univers @christinewithluv @haowonbins @ocyeanicc @asyre @superhoshisvt @bangantokchy @chimmy-bts @angelarin @daisawa @writingbarnes @jeonghansshitester @belladaises @wonwootakemyheart @wonwooz1 @luchiet @kookssecret @caratsland @peachescreamandcrumble @thepoopdokyeomtouched @isabellah29 @leah-rose03 @coupshour @sooheehan @heesbees @hyuckxtagram @kissesfrmwonwoo @httphera @porridgesblog @miyx-amour

#seventeen imagines #svt x reader #dino x reader #seventeen headcanons #svt fluff #caratsland #dk x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen 14th member #14th member of seventeen #dino x yn #svt dino #dino x y/n

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lyavee44 · 13 days ago

Text

Leon S. Kennedy general hcs!!

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

secretly loves animals a whole lot. feels so bad every time he sees dead pets out in the field.

y'all know how he had this bloodhound doggy? the one mentioned in capcom design works? i think he probably had to give him away once he got into rpd. he's still missing the little guy

he loves food. will try anything. nothing grosses him out. give him a fried worm and he'll slurp it up.

i headcanon that his bio parents are of scottish and italian origin. we're getting into the tinfoil hat territory now, so hold onto it... (the hat lol)

i believe his mom was italian, and his dad was scottish. blah blah blah, mobsters uniting or whatever. i don't know how that works. but a scottish mob family and an italian mob family united due to his parents getting married.

(there's that one thread to see where im getting conclusions from) ↓

https://x.com/MarioPrime/status/1636782590580473869

his mom was a bit of a spiritual nut. his dad was a stern, emotionally absent dude. he got his looks from his mama

he had lots of siblings and cousins. all of which either kicked the bucket or managed to escape and change identities.

okay, kicking the angst aside... probably so lazy at home. while he doesn't like things being dirty, he's probably pretty unorganised. like, it's clean, but messy.

has either a beat up samsung or lg phone from 2010 or a hammer phone.

he canonically sends his selfies to hunnigan when he's beating up b.o.w.s. probably used those stupid snapchat filters back when it was popular too.

showers super long. doesn't do any of that 2in1 bullshit either. not really crazy over self care, but knows how to keep himself neat.

likes card games a lot.

barely interacts with his neighbours. don't ask me why, he just doesn't.

still speaks italian but his accent is a tad too americanised, and he's butthurt over it

agnostic and very deeply disappointed in catholicism. while he's respectful to the believers, he hates the mere idea of even being in a church. uncomfortable when people express love for jahwe or tell him that jesus loves him unsolicited. (IM PROJECTING)

has nightmares sometimes, but manages to fall back asleep quickly enough. he generally sleeps quite deeply, but the sleepiness escapes him soon after he opens his eyes. his ringtone is super loud because of that - he sleeps like a dead ox.

the type of guy to laugh at 2018 twitter memes and silly animals. it's top tier comedy to him.

secretly just really, really, REALLY needs a hug. it's such a repressed need that he doesn't even remember how much he wants it.

enjoyed talking to jd in re:damnation. overall thinks that slavic people are fun.

cries when he's on his own at last after a mission. mostly does it in the shower, he doesn't like the sensation of tears sticking to his face.

still contacts ashley sometimes. she gives him fun life updates and he's happy to listen.

dad rock listener... everyone knows that.

and that would be it!! lemme know what you think<3 i had fun coming up with these, ain't gonna lie. please, correct me if there's any errors. english is my second language! (⁠●⁠´⁠⌓⁠`⁠●⁠)

#leon s kennedy #id leon kennedy #leon kennedy #resident evil headcanons #re headcanons #resident evil #leon scott kennedy

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bisexualmcqueen · 7 days ago

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may i offer this thought for the feral racers hc

racecars are like loyal little guard dogs (not little at all. those are metal beasts) with the people they love. they just kinda like. imprint on people and its like an immediate switch to feral mode when they perceive threat and danger to loved one. and they do that thing where they try and make themselves bigger to intimidate enemies.

idk if its something similar like this has posted about or discussed before but uh yeah. the feral racers hc just kinda read to me as racecars being like dogs. wolves. instinctually wild animals. i like how strip and doc being particularly old veterans translates into them being Extra Dangerous or Extra Feral, something like that. though i dont even think racecars get normaller the newer/younger. i think the next gens are just a different flavor of freak (i.e. chewing, zoomies) like they're domesticated sort of in a way

YES YES exactly

ok many thoughts. lets see here

so ive been thinking about this and. the thing is. that part of what makes this headcanon so fun is that theres actually canon precedent, in a way.

Lightning for example. is crazy protective. like instantaneously. zero forethought, action only, putting himself between the Danger and the Friend.

some examples:

in cars TVG, Chick hires the DRH to rob Mack so Lightning will be without supplies for the upcoming race. when Lightning hears that Mack was very upset about it from Sheriff, he gets so pissed off he takes to the streets, tracks the DRH down, and proceeds to spend all night chasing and beating the shit out of them until they drop his stuff. not because he was Robbed, but because they Upset Mack.

i think its funny that Sheriff doesnt say Anything. he just nods in agreement. ...not that i think Sheriff could have stopped him though. Lightning is sort of Insane about Mack. Mack is the greatest. [two quality versions. one oldschool for nostalgia and one more HD]

in the comics (admittedly ive only read in sections), Mater was beefing with Bubba, Lightning also started to get pissed off at Bubba being rude + protective of Mater:

i dont know if Lightning would be good at fighting or get his ass beat terribly. either way, i want to watch.

next up is my favorite example: the thunder hollow crazy 8 race. Lightning LEAPS in to help Cruz several times. it is my fucking Favorite.

HERDS HER BACK OUT ONTO THE TRACK

and then he jumps in front of a speeding attack-bus and takes a metal sawblade to the drivewheel for her. NO thoughts, head empty, protect Cruz. love this man. apparently, type-c school busses can be between 10-20,000 pounds. crunch.

and my last example on this topic: the radiator springs 500 1/2:

these racers show up in town looking for trouble. its supposed to be a silly little western parody, but in terms of this headcanon it comes off as territorial as hell imo. wdym other racecars show up at his house to fight him. hello. and then they insult Stanley, which deeply upsets Lizzie:

cue getting their asses kicked by mcqueen. that is HIS freaky old woman.

[i love this short]

so yeah. my terrible guard-dog-horse-thing-car.

Doc is largely The Same:

14 billion KEEP OUT signs. shooing Lightning away from his friends family because he is A Perceived Danger. another racecar standing in his lawn barking. yeah. you territorial old wet rag.

I agree with what you said its very in line with the vibes of the headcanon yes. true and real. def like dogs/wolves, and i personally try to throw some cat/horse stuff in there too. again, i blame being an x-men/wolverine fan.

a few other tidbits from source material for funsies:

^that ones wallpaper, apparently. for like a Room. in a house. my cars wallpaper merch thats 2018 xrs drag racing diecast merchandise.

Doc was so amped to do racecar stuff again he wakes Lightning up in the middle of the fucking night to run around in circles with him the moment he shows back up in town.

they lost Guido in the fucking sand.

Cars Origins: Struck By Lightning quick aside: "everyone's going to think something is wrong with me" Lightning these are not mentally stable thoughts im so sorry.

second topic: generational/evolutionary differences.

first of all i would like to point out that my basis for strip especially being some sort of craazzy toothy freak is entirely the headcanon of @youhavehitawall that i adopted out of coolness. non has some lore about the weathers that explains it, but basically it boils down to a repeated expression of racecar genes getting more pronounced the more generations it travels down (so long as its an expressed gene).

now for the nextgens (funny calling them that in 2025. theyre all in their 30's lmfao. not saying thats 'old', but they arent rookies anymore, damn does time fly). [disclaimer: dont quote me on this, my knowledge is an approximation] in real life NASCAR, they used very old technologies right up until about 2012. carburetors, leaded gasoline, 4-gear h-box frontend transaxles, reticulating ball steering, etc. most of these things vanished from the dealership road cars between the 60's and the 90's. Meanwhile cars like Lightning and Cal are still running this stuff in the mid-aughts. so when the nextgens came along, they showed up with fuel injection, e85 15% ethanol fuel, 5-speed sequential rear-mounted transaxels, rack-and-pinion steering, bigger aluminum wheels, bigger calipers, and less ground clearance/more areo, there was a very sudden and massive shift in what sort of technology was being run in the piston cup. tech-wise, Lightning +co were very similar to cars like Chick and even Strip. the change in tech could be a good marker for other genetic shifts too. cars change much, muuuch faster generation-to-generation than mammals. its Moore's Law in a way: theyre machines. add that to the incredible 12-week turnaround in which every team booted their driver and replaced them with a 'nextgen', and ive had to spend some time wondering Why? why??? thats brutal! Doc certainly warned us, but goddamn. imagine if that happened mid-season in any real sport! holy shit! (i still want to know more about the fan's reactions to this...) in the context of this headcanon, i Also wonder about what you said, the nextgens being feral in a little bit of a 'different' way. maybe theyve got easier-to-handle temperaments; an added bonus to their overall higher speeds+better track times. uhm. Jackson being the temperament-outlier here, maybe.

to be fair, he did get fired after throwing too many fits.

Cars Origins: Storm Chasing

But yes... racecars!! they are a lottt to handle. the driver AND the incredibly powerful machine mashed into one?? hooo boy. honestly i am a bit fearful of racecars irl. very loud, very fast, smell bad, they breathe fire, etc. why not reconcile that by making the talking ones into Beasts. theyre already crazy, already quadruped, my brain just starts assigning horse/wolf to them. and some of it comes down to me loving logan-wolverine tropes. protective growly little guy with pointy teeth. yeah can i get 5 more of these little fanged bitches.

ok i have to stop yapping now this turned out quite long, but i still have Things to Say about this headcanon/worldbuilding. i didnt even get into the amazing bonds racecars seem to have with their teams/families (the 'imprinting' thing you mentioned!). very fun!!

thanks for the ask!!

#ask #reply #feral racers hc #cars fandom #pixar cars #cars 2006

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midnightjewel · 2 days ago

Text

Super Bowl

Obviously, as a girlie from a football family we’re having a Super Bowl party (even though our team hasn’t been since the 90s smfh) my bf is a big eagles fan and as much as I love my girl Tay, I’ve gotta root for the eagles this year! (And keep in mind that as I’m writing this, the game hasn’t even started yet so I know nothing)

So who are they rooting for this year?

Characters Included: Bakugo, Kirishima, Denki, Sero, Shinsou

Bakugo

- 100% going for the chiefs just to piss Denki off

- He went as far as to buy a jersey just for this game and has been wearing Chiefs merchandise all week just to get a rise out of him

- Truthfully he’s not even a Chiefs fan (I think he’s a Tampa Bay fan) he just wants to make people mad and he’s living for every second of it

- Definitely has a yelling problem when some controversial calls are made that he doesn’t agree with. Not just for the Super Bowl but for any football game that he watches

- I can’t lie he has probably broken something in the dorms before when his team lost

- Probably gets mad (like very mad) when Taylor is shown for two seconds and is earning side eyes from everyone. He probably tweets about it too tbh

- Will probably be getting into a fist fight with Denki tonight after shit talking

If you’re his gf:

- Does not care who you’re going for but if it’s opposite of him you’re not safe from his teasing

- Probably makes you get him a plate of food tbh (weather you do or not is completely up to you)

- If you laugh at him while he’s raging he’ll become more frustrated but tbh it’s so hilarious you can’t stop

Kirishima

- Chiefs because of his hair (and Tay Tay)

- Definitely bought a jersey like Bakugo but he didn’t do it with the intentions of pissing Denki off he’s just doing it for fun

- Not a regular Chiefs fan either, probably a Miami Dolphins fan

- Honestly loves that Taylor Swift is being incorporated into football because he was a casual listener of hers before but has been recently getting more into her music

- Honestly argues with Bakugo when he yells at the TV for Taylor being shown and they’ve gotten into some pretty heated discussions about it while everyone just sits there awkwardly

- is obsessed with Super Bowl snacks and food, when he’s not sitting on the couch intensely watching, he’s in the kitchen getting a plate of snacks and food (his 5th plate of the night)

- Is hopeful that Kendrick will bring out Taylor for bad blood but knows that it’s not a realistic expectation (is hopeful though)

- Slight chance that he’s wearing a shirt that says “Go Taylor’s Boyfriend” tonight and he is absolutely unashamed about it too

If you’re his gf:

- Respects whoever you want to root for and doesn’t mind friendly competition if it’s opposite of what he chooses

- Probably an accidental mansplainer when it comes to girls and football as if you don’t know what’s going on (he means well I swear)

- Probably asks you if you could get him a drink or something to eat a few times while he’s watching the game but if you don’t want to that’s fine with him! In fact, next commercial break he’s getting you both something from the kitchen

- Never ever is violent about a football game especially not in front of you, if anything he’s the one breaking up fights which you find totally attractive

Denki

- A die hard Eagles fan (if you know football you’d probably think I’d pick the LA chargers but no a die hard eagles fan)

- Cried when they won in 2018 and cried even harder when they lost in 2023 and it didn’t help that bakugo was absolutely ridiculing him after the Chiefs beat them

- Has been posting things like “it took the avengers two tries to beat Thanos” or something like that referring to the loss of 2023 and tonight

- Definitely has been wearing the merch all week leading up to the Super Bowl. Hats, Scarves, Gloves, Jerseys, Hoodies, SHOES

- Absolutely has a huge Eagles banner in his dorm room

- Has broken a remote before I can’t lie

- The type of person to scream “What the fuck are we doing?!” When his team makes a mistake. And also the type of person to clap really loud and act like an eagle when they score a touchdown

- He will probably be pacing behind the couch tonight (so nervous he can’t even sit down)

If you’re his gf:

- Please (even if you’re not a fan) just root for the Eagles with him, it would mean the world to him

- You ofc know how passionate he is and you always try your best to comfort him if things aren’t going in his favor. Back rubs, reassuring words, bringing him a little snack, etc.

- Will probably pout a bit if you’re going for the opposing team but you’re his queen and he loves you unconditionally no matter how tense the game becomes

Sero

- Despite the rivalry between his team and the eagles (which has caused some arguments between him and Denki) he’s going for the eagles tonight

- Definitely a Dallas Cowboy’s fan (same) and can’t even defend them anymore

- Probably wants to switch teams but his whole family and himself are too deep into it now with the amount of money spent on merchandise

- He just accepts fate that they regularly suck and hopes that one season he’ll be able to enjoy watching them play

- like I said, due to rivalry he normally HATES the eagles but is making an exception for this game as he is probably a Chiefs hater

- Loves munching on snacks that are brought to the party and will probably tell Bakugo or Denki (or both) to “calm the fuck down” at some point tonight

- Excited for the halftime show and is probably vibing with Shinsou and Kirishima while Bakugo and Kaminari passive aggressively stare at each other in the kitchen while getting food

If you’re his gf:

- You two just snuggle up on the couch and get ready for the shit show between Denki and Bakugo tbh

- Vibes with you during the halftime show and makes sure you’re eating the delicious food that’s been made, he would hate for you to miss out if you’re so invested in the game

- Towards the end you two definitely have to attempt to break up the fist fight between Denki and Bakugo

Shinsou

- Honestly going for the eagles tonight (and not because Denki wouldn’t leave him alone to pick a side)

- Doesn’t mind the chiefs but I can see him going for the eagles as he sees them as the underdog in this situation tonight

- He’s probably a casual watcher of football but is also probably just a chill Ravens fan or something

- Probably has maybe one jersey or a small poster in his room of the ravens but is a casual fan

- Doesn’t care who wins or loses and he’s honestly just here for the vibes which is a good way to act

- Will casually share his disagreement with a controversial call or two but mostly just sits back and takes it all in

- Tbh is probably still in the common room only because of the halftime show with Kendrick Lamar. Not like us was a song that he may have been hardcore vibing with last year so he’s hopeful that he’ll sing it

- Probably finds is amusing when Denki and Bakugo are almost getting into a fist fight. Probably recording it tbh and just laughing and quietly saying “yo what the fuck” behind the camera while laughing as Bakugo is cackling at Denki being mad and Denki is insulting Bakugo to the point where he stops laughing and they end up slightly fist fighting before being broken up by Sero and Kirishima

If you’re his gf:

- You two are most definitely snuggled together under a blanket awaiting the big show between some of your friends

- Doesn’t care who you’re going for! Eagles? Cool. You guys are definitely matching. Chiefs? That’s fine with him too! There for the food? So is he. There to watch for Taylor? He’s grinning as you happily point out that they’re showing her

- Gently caressing your face as you fall asleep on his shoulder and gets ticked off when the guys wake you up with their loud and unnecessary bickering

#anime #bnha #my hero academia #mha bakugou #bakugou x you #mha kirishima #kirishima x you #kirishima x reader #bakugo x reader #mha denki #denki x reader #mha sero #sero x reader #mha shinsou #shinsou x reader

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bon2bonn · 1 year ago

Text

Driver profile : Y/N L/N

Name : Y/N M/N M/L/N

Nicknames : N/N , bella , demon spawn, amour , love , sprout.

Nicknames by fans : Valkyrie, the unofficial official grid mom , Merc queen, red bull princess, angel, f2 grid mom , stargirl .

Age : I estimated her to be around 27 (it's not fixed so you can change it to whatever you like)

Birthday : 23 . October . (Same thing , you can put yours or any other date🤷🏻‍♀️)

Birthplace : Sydney, Australia

Blood type : B+

Languages : fluent in English, french + (language of choice) , basic Dutch , Spanish , and a little bit of Arabic.

Resident : between Monaco, London, New York and Sydney.

Personality : spitfire on track , a power that install fear in the hearts of every team and any driver she's up against , believes in actions and hard work rather than words spewed around , so if you have the balls and nerves to poke her , you better have the results to back you up or you won't see the end of it from her or her fans or the rest of the grid .

Known as The grid keeper/ no#1 mom who keeps them in line but could be found in the midst of chaos leading them with their antics and pranks . off track , she's an introverted small bean that can scare the daylight out of you if you rubbed her the wrong way, shy and closed off is the first impression that everyone gets when meeting her but once you get to know her she's the sweetest and most genuine/spontaneous person you'll ever meet , her RBF hides a gentle kind soul , that makes her the best person to give comfort and assurance even if she denies it. Protective bear of her loved ones and won't stop at anything till she make sure they're okay. She either acts like an old lady that complains about her back and knees , or like a little kid on a sugar rush , it's a normal day to find her around the grid at the most confusing places : climbing motorhomes just because/hiding behind tyres while everyone lose their minds trying to find her /sleeping in an ice tup cause she got too comfortable.

Habits: play with her hands when nervous, pout unconsciously when she's too focused on something, pick at her fingers when uncomfortable/stressed (if close , Charles would give her one of his rings to play with , or others would let her play with their fingers to distract her) , jumps whenever she gets exited, tilt her head when confused, clenches her fists/jaw when she gets irritated ( the guys knows when to interfere to stop her from beating someone), sings/humms absentmindedly through her day , do a little dance when happy, talks to herself in a quiet voice.

Occupation :

Former Formula 1 driver

Years of work : (2015-2022)

Racing biography 🏎️ :

*‌Toro Rosso :

2015 alongside : Max Verstappen #33.

2016 alongside : Carlos Sainz #55.

*‌Renault(alpine) : 2017 alongside : Nico Hülkenberg #27.

*‌Alpha Romeo(sauber) : 2018 alongside : Charles leclerc #16.

‌*Mercedes AMG Petronas F1 team : 2019 - July 2022 alongside : Lewis Hamilton #44.

Currently:

• CEO/founder of Ingrid and willows brand (2018-now) .

• CEO and representative of L/N international corps (2022-now) .

•reserved driver for (RBR) Red Bull Racing (2023) .

Hobbies/skills : reading, playing piano, camping, hiking, cooking in general (loves backing) , painting specially with her youngest brother, singing, fast learner , have a very strong memory , is a pro at reading people and could tell their emotions and can almost alway tell when someone's lying , skilled stealthy prankster when provoked (by lando and max)..... .etc .

Family members :

‌father : f/N l/N .

‌mother : m/N M/l/N .

‌older brother: Edward l/N .

‌younger brother: Thomas l/N

Father :

Name : F/N M/N l/N

Occupation: CEO/founder of L/N international corps.

Social status: single father of (Edward , Y/N , Thomas l/N ).

Resident: London , UK.

Name : M/N M/l/N

Occupation: not found.

Social status: not found.

Status: alive .

Resident : Rome, Italy.

Name : Edward/Eddie M/N l/N

Age : 30

Occupation: CEO/founder of wildonwall (a worldwide known professional architectural company that deals in designing/building and supervising projects around the world).

Social Status: married to ( Alison Graham ) , father of two (one boy : Marcus/Marc , one girl : Ingrid/gigi ).

Resident: London , UK.

Name : Thomas/Tommy/ben M/N l/N

Age : 22

Occupation: student of fine arts , Oxford university.

Social status: a single Pringle who don't know how to mingle.

Resident: Monte Carlo , Monaco - London , UK.

Facts and background infos :

‌she's the only daughter of the L/N family , but chose to race with her grandmother's maiden name instead . She wanted to establish herself away from her father's name .

‌very independent , and mature beyond her age .‌

she's the backbone of her family, both her brothers and father own it to her for helping them through their lives .

‌she had a complicated relationship with her mother to say the least, she was the one who suffered the most when she left .

‌her parents split up when she was only 5 . her mom walked away leaving them with her baby brother who was barely months old .

‌her mother tried to forcefully take Eddie (the eldest) along with her while their father was out with Tommy, but he refused to part from his sister , resulting in a very traumatic day for the two kids.

‌she watched her dad as he struggled with taking care of them three , feeling like a failure who couldn't tend to his own children.

‌so she took it up on herself to help him take care, comfort and nurture her baby brother.

‌he tried to get her to live her age but she won't stop worrying about her brother and he won't settle unless she's close .

‌just hearing her voice got him from screaming his lungs out to cooing and giggling.

‌their bond only grew stronger as they grew up .

‌he was at his best behaviour when she's around, forgetting about the tantrums and wailing matches he had with his traumatized babysitter who quit the moment their father came back home .

‌her childhood wasn't the most ideal but she got her family with her and that was more than enough for her.

‌her dad was more than relieved when she finally had interest in something other than studying or taking care of them .

‌he watched as her love for racing grow untill he offered to take her to her first grand Prix.

‌she didn't sleep for days after .

‌daniel was her first friend in the sport .

‌they met through one of her uncles friends back in Australia , both didn't like eachother at all .

she was the quiet observing kid and he was the bouncing ball of energy , but they bonded through their love for racing .

‌she moved to Europe (between UK and France) with her dad where she found more suitable competitions to partake in, but she tried to keep in touch with him through the years , but they both got busy and lost connection.

‌she kept to herself and worked hard to build her skills.

Maintaining a healthy balance between her studies and racing .

‌untill she met some of the kids older/close to her age , most didn't take her seriously and even encouraged her to drop racing . But she also met little max .

Both acknowledged the other but kept their distance on the beginning.

‌the boy was blunt and she was unfazed.

‌they respected the other hard work and we're motivated to beat eachother at every race.

‌they surprisingly became best friends with time .

‌both acting too mature for their own good but unknowingly, they both got eachother to act their age as they grew closer .

‌they gave eachother tips and pointers as they sat away from the others before every race they were in together .

‌he'd talk her ears off after every race explaining every detail and every corner and she'd patiently listen to him , adding her own opinion here and there .

‌they were at eachother neck every race, but their friendship was as strong as it could be.

‌they celebrated the winner and encouraged the loser , both hated to lose , but they raced fairly.

‌she got discovered by Christian , and found her way to red bull academy program, Max a year after her .

‌and guess who's there ? Daniel Joseph Ricciardo.

‌they reunited after years , both inseparable even more when she got a seat at Toro rosso .

‌the team was on the brink of a collective breakdown, they already had Seb to worry about , now add those two with Max?

‌cue chaos and mischief , sirens going off with Seb laughing and Christian screaming in the background.

‌fernando saw her and declared war upon whoever dares to hurt this small bean .

Forming a small protection squad (more like him forcing Seb Kimi and Jenson to participate)

Kimi got robbed into it , he didn't even know until he found himself along with the others planning to slash a reporter tires for calling her slow and ignorant .

He thought they were getting coffee !?!! .

‌she was supposed to move to red bull in 2016 but Marko opposed, max was promoted instead, and she left to Renault the following season.

‌in 2018 she moved to alpha Romeo (saubar) alongside Charles leclerc .

Rookie Charles was low-key scared of her , he knew her from their carting days but still felt uneasy with her quiet personality and focused mentality.

The first time they met was a disaster at it's finest.

But she knew how tense and overwhelmed rookies could be in their first season so she tried her best to help him through it .

‌it was an exhausting season but they both survived .

Charles moved to Ferrari and her to Mercedes.

‌Toto offered her a Merc seat for 2019 .

‌lewis had his share of teammates and it didn't end well to say the least with his former friend/teammate (RIP brocedes) or valtteri after .

‌so when she first came in it didn't go well for her .

‌both her and Lewis are hardheaded and closed off, refusing to acknowledge the other Or give in to know eachother.

‌they stayed professional and moved out of the other's way, untill she came around, finding him in the back of his driver's room, sitting on the floor , his head on his hands after a shitty with a dnf .

‌she kept quiet and sat down with him letting him have his moment of silence but assuring he don't have to be alone .

‌after an hour or so, she took out her phone , showing him her family dog pics and videos , getting him to crack a smile and even few laughs before she let him talk about his own Roscoe, promising to let her meet him when they go to Silverstone.

‌the roles reversed when he found her in an empty office at the back of the garage , she got an earful from Toto and couldn't get a word in , her notes are always dismissed and her engineer wasted time until it's too late to listen.

‌he sat beside her, letting her lean on his shoulder in a way of comfort , letting her play with his rings to calm down.

‌they built a support system . and it resulted in building a solid foundation for a dynamic team.

But that won't mean she'll let her work go to waste because of the team's orders.

... : Y/N.

Y/N : yes?

James : Y/N, This is James, listen.....

Y/N : no James! You listen! Just because..........

Her radio messages never disappoint.

Yeah they give her a hard time , but they didn't know what was waiting for them .

She adapted quickly to the new team and their methods of work , it went as well as it could be up to 2021 .

Shit hit the fan and she almost die/quit .

But she stayed put , ending the season in 3d 🥉.

2022 things moved up a little, with her chances of getting the championship almost equalling Max's, him being ahead with only 24 point .

But Mercedes had their own plans.

Mid-season change in plans Leading to her leaving/getting replaced with George Russell , concluding her journey with Mercedes AMG team.

*Let me know if I missed something ✨

#weathering your storm #wys #f1 x driver!reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x female driver #f1 x reader #f1 grid x reader #22!f1 grid x reader #23!f1 grid x reader #f1 au!

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vanildamusic · 2 years ago

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ruershrimo · 10 months ago

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take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 7: conversation

ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev | next | m.list

chapter synopsis:

' “I can’t believe you’re leaving us for a boy," she goes, rolling her eyes. She doesn't even blink.

“I’m not.” You are. '

---

Megumi calls you back. You leave for Tokyo again, like a soul yearning for its body.

word count: ~6k; tws: none for now :)!!

19-6-2018

“So you’re really going to let go of them now?” your father asks.

“...yeah.”

“That’s good. I’ll miss that Itadori boy, though.”

You will, too.

In a way you suppose Megumi and Yuuji are very similar. They’d go well together, be good, fast friends and all that.

They’re both undoubtedly good people, no matter how they’ve beat people up before and how different their beliefs may be.

In Megumi’s case, everyone knew how good a person Tsumiki was, her younger brother included. Her kindness and virtue extended itself, inspiring other people around her. But Megumi was a good person, too— polite, patient (most of the time, unless it were Gojo— but who wouldn’t be annoyed by that man, right?), kind in his own way. He cared for you in all sorts of ways in the past, even then you could tell, gentle with animals and objects and your hand. Gentle in his own way. Giving you reminders despite the tiny calumniations sprinkled in (they barely do as much damage as comb bristles can), being sharp because he must have had to, kind because it was in his very nature. Easy on the eyes, tall, deep soothing voice— he ticked all the boxes for that, too. You bet that if things were different, and the two of you had stayed in touch with each other, you’d have fallen deeply in love with it by now. Yet that thought only makes you feel sour now that things hadn’t gone that way at all.

And Yuuji, too— there was no explanation needed for Yuuji. Even Megumi could tell he was a good person. And at some times he was almost like Tsumiki. You weren’t ever surprised that you’d caught feelings for him, because— who wouldn’t? He was always popular, even if he was ignorant of his own charm around others. But he wasn’t just a good guy with a ripped torso, he was honest, perceptive and smart in conversations. Smarter than he ever credited himself for. Smart in a way you could never be— people with cute faces, nice bodies and good social skills were in a league of their own, practically. You’d thought that for a long time.

Did either of them ever know how you felt?

Probably not. Your heart was guarded, intensely so, and you’d never lay your feelings bare and out so easily. You weren’t the type of person to say you loved people as easily as others did, even within your own family.

This, you presume, is probably an acquired trait, now that you think about it. You were much more different as a child, free with praise and love and unabashed affection as well as appreciation for the people around you. What changed?

(Everything.)

You miss 2010. You miss Tsumiki the way you miss your mother’s cooking, miss her the way you miss when you wrote emails and letters and text messages to her with multi-coloured pens or your old phone that eventually broke a year after. You miss the conversations the two of you had, miss how you used to be your parents’ little angel.

And in the end it all comes back to that, doesn’t it? 2010. Nostalgia. Reminiscing on old memories in a way akin to how the elderly do in their youth. That just made you seem more pathetic, because, weren’t you supposed to be making those memories right now, at this time of your life?

You’re a teenager. You should be going out with friends, and having fun, not rotting at home ruminating on the past, with the only friends you’ve ever had hundreds of kilometres away from you (you weren’t sure if you could even call one of them a ‘friend’ anymore), and your acquaintances not close enough to replace them (how could they ever? How could there ever be a replacement for Yuuji?)

In a way you feel your life is miserable: awkward, socially-impaired teenage girl with her only friend practically out of her life at this point; nothing special to your name besides a cursed technique that most times does you more harm than good; stuck not being able to completely get over friends she met at eight who left her as quickly as someone can blink their eyes; with the thinking process of a nagging, stubborn mother sometimes, or if not that then a blurry, mingled train of thought that gets delayed or lost when moving from station to station; someone not of use at all. Not miserable, you think to yourself like a slap to the face, pathetic.

You’re not sure how Tsumiki is now— maybe she has a partner, or better friends than you were, or she’s busy being president of the student council or something (she’d be a sterling leader, of that you’re certain, that girl who you’d always known was bound to go places in the span of her lifetime).

Hopefully, she’s alright, and doing the best she can in life. That’s all you wish for when it comes to Tsumiki.

At this point, there’s no point in wishing to join them, or to linger on them and memories of the past. It’s a mosquito in summer heat, which is why, if it stays, you decide, you’ll just suppress and ignore it until it goes away. Even if you didn’t know how long it would take you to get over them— weeks, months, but goodness forbid a whole lifetime or forever— you needed to accept that you’d be like this for nearly the rest of your life: pathetic, lonely— ah, that’s the word that so very perfectly delineates the situation you’re in— and then some.

So that’s why, when you hear your phone buzzing on your bed like a cicada during a balmy night, you assume it’s someone else. Yuuji must be busy settling in (he’s been texting you, and you took that as a sign that he wouldn’t call), and Megumi must be… —Well. Megumi has made a promise, and it’s not that you don’t believe in him, but it would be better to expect less than what you’d like to in order to evade disappointment.

Must be someone else. A prank call, or a scammer, or something. Or a telemarketer, but you’d be surprised if telemarketers were calling you and not your father. And you were never one to pick calls up mindlessly anyway, so if it were some stranger out to get you or swindle you, you’d just hang up or check the number.

If not either a scam or a telemarketer (well you suppose both of those could be scams in certain contexts), though, then you’d suspect it would be either Yuuji (Yuuji’s the one who has been texting you, after all, conversations strewn over checking in with the other over the past few hours or snippets of advice from you telling him not to bother Megumi very much, and to be cautious and keep himself safe) or Gojo— definitely not Megumi, and probably not Gojo either, but still it was more likely that Gojo was calling you instead of Megumi, so you’re considering it— and you can’t really remember Gojo’s number anyway, so what if an unknown number wasn’t a prank call or something—

You wonder if you should just pick it up instead of burying your head in your study notes and overthinking everything.

But you know it’s definitely not Megumi.

You check the phone.

Well, you’ll be damned.

It’s Fushiguro Megumi.

You know his number by heart, after all. Keyed it in too many times to forget, and it’s not like he’d have any reason to change it. Not with the way he cares for things, inanimate objects, not with the tenderly quiet, secretly caring, emotionally jaded way he maintains them.

“Ah… hello?”

Your heart thumps in your chest and heat flares up in your cheeks with a frenetic speed.

“Hi,” you blurt out, shakily. You’re sure your voice is quivering, yet your mind feels like it’s barely functioning, almost about to drown in a seven-feet-deep pool, so you can’t really tell. You can’t really hear yourself.

You don’t know why you feel like this— no, you know exactly why, actually. It’s because you haven’t gotten over him. Your thoughts are scrambled but you know, for sure, that you’re like this because you want to get rid of feelings like these but you can’t. Or because you’ve been saying that to yourself like a mantra, for so long, even though a part of you wants it to stay— out of what, that’s what you don’t know; maybe desperation or nostalgia or an inability to stop dwelling on days long gone. But you know what this is— you’ve seen the movies, read the manga, watched the dramas. It’s romance. Crushes. Something you’re not quite able to call love yet, something you’re too scared to properly name, still, but something you can understand is one-sided nonetheless.

“…hi. [Name].”

“Hello…”

What happens when two estranged childhood friends with a book’s worth of history behind their relationship that happen to be socially awkward teenagers actually have a conversation semi-beyond what keeps them estranged in the first place?

“Hi— no, wait… how are you?”

Pot, meet kettle, because you’re going off nothing but the fact that you’re at the very least surprised (the other emotions are too complicated to explain) that he’s speaking to you again, and not just on text, but he’s calling, and he sounds like he’s reading off a script, but the script is in a whole other language, somehow, and the uncertain nervousness in his voice is tangible, even for a deep, low voice like his.

Script or not, you appreciate the effort, though.

“I’m good, um… I’m happy you were able to call. It’s been a long time.”

“That’s good.”

There’s silence on the other line; time feels like it’s moving achingly slowly. But you’re mildly happy.

Not happy, maybe, but you definitely feel light, as if you’ve been severed from the heaviness of everything else that has happened lately. This is the first time in years something like this has ever happened.

“Ah, wait, I forgot to ask! Sorry, um.. how are you?”

“I’m doing alright, too. Oh, wait, I should apologise. I didn’t tell you— thanks for helping with my injuries the other day. Gojo told me about it after you left. You… you didn’t have to, though. You shouldn’t have risked your health like that.”

You shake your head. “Don’t mention it. You know why I do this, anyway.” Out of necessity or a need to be useful, you’re not even sure yourself, but he must know, to some degree, right? It seems as if he’d be the one to know the most of this, of you— at least, when matters came to this. “And I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Dr Ieiri probably ended up helping more with the bigger ones once the three of you got back. I mean, she did, right?”

“…no. She said that she didn’t want to waste her time, so if injuries were more minor like mine, she wouldn’t heal them fully.”

“...ah.” More minor? Seriously, doctor? You’d normally not question her judgement over matters that she had more expertise in dealing with, but seriously?

“I’ll be fine, though. Most of the bandages have come off, and all.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

You wonder where he is now, on the bed, maybe, or sitting on the floor. You’ve seen the classrooms, but not the dormitories— you hope wherever he is, that it’s comfortable. That he’s okay.

“We’re going to see a new student soon.”

“Really? Have you met them before?”

“No, but Gojo said she’s from the countryside. But we’re meeting her in Harajuku, for some reason.”

“Oh, Harajuku! I miss it,” you let out a plaintive sigh, “I can’t wait to be back in Tokyo. You know, whatever happens, I still love that city like nothing else. I know how many people hate it, but I love it so much.” And you love it so much in the first place, mostly because of Megumi and Tsumiki. “Maybe she just wants to chase a bit of the sweet city life— I mean, you know how it is when country bumpkins go to the city for the first time… kind of. Or when they love the city— yeah, that’s a better way of saying it. I was like that, kind of.”

“...if you’re worried about the train ride here and want to travel alone, I could always pay for you. Uh… wait—”

“Oh, no, no! There’s no need, uhm— thank you anyway, it’s just—”

“It’s Gojo’s money anyway.”

“Pft,” you snort. Anything to seep out some of Gojo’s money like gluttonous leeches, right? “Nah, I’ll be fine. I mean, I don’t even think I’ll be able to come back in a few years’ time, and by then I won’t even be relying on my parents’ money for this stuff anymore— I mean, I will still be relying on their money, but I’ll be managing it as my own.”

He chuckles lightly over the line, the silent way he shows his emotions, the way that goes unnoticed if one is not attentive to it. It feels like he’s whispering directly into your ear, and the heat on your face (which you weren’t even sure was still there until that point). Your heart skips a beat and it completely, absolutely shocks you. “...the offer still stands.”

Yeah, you can get behind it if he’s like this now. What happened to him, anyway? Puberty hit him like a brick and gave him, like, one more ounce of emotional maturity?

You shake your head like a character in a piece of crappy romance fanfiction. No way. Not now, at least. Calm down.

(...you’re just a girl.)

“Well, no take backs from now on, okay? Even if it’s, like, five years into the future, you’ll still be using Gojo’s credit card to cover for all my travel expenses.”

He does it again, that low, soft, attractive sound. Makes you want to hit him and hit yourself at the same time, and then kick your feet up in the air giddily, and then throttle yourself, if it were possible, out of sheer embarrassment. “Yeah.”

You’re having the time of your life.

“Anyway, how is everything else? Like, are your studies and grades okay? Is the training you do alright to handle?”

“My grades are pretty okay,” he answers, “Not like Gojo cares, honestly. And the training’s fine, it’s nothing I’m not used to.”

“Gojo seems like he’d be a good teacher. When he wants to, he can command respect pretty easily, too. I guess he just… chooses not to. But I saw it yesterday, when you and Yuuji were passed out in the hospital.”

It still strikes a pang of guilt in your chest, your inability to have done anything else besides calling Gojo over for help.

“...I suppose he does.”

“Yeah.”

“How about you? Itadori, he… he can be an idiot sometimes, but he speaks of you really admirably. He talks about how smart you are a lot.”

The thought of Megumi calling Yuuji an idiot of all things doesn’t feel like it falls short from him, but it still makes you frown— though, you realise that that’s just his way of expressing things, because in a way he’d treated you somewhat the same in the past, even if he hadn’t shown it outright or expressed it very vividly. Classic Megumi.

“Hey, he’s smarter than people give him credit for, okay? Wait until you see how talented he is at things other than sports and martial arts. You’d be surprised after trying the meatballs he makes. Would be good if you asked him to give you the recipe sometime; I make them, like, once a week, at least.”

He sighs, “...I will. But the point is, he cares for you a lot.”

“Yeah, beautiful soul, that guy. Loves people the way curious children love nature.”

“That would be a fitting way to put it.”

“How are the dogs?”

“My shikigami?”

“Yeah. Do they have names?”

“The black one is Kuro and the white one is Shiro.”

“You named them black and white?”

“Look, I named them when I was barely six years old, and six year olds aren’t exactly the best when it comes to these things…”

You giggle, “So the name stuck?”

“Yeah, sort of.”

Real cute.

“What about your father? How is he?”

“He’s okay, but, well. I guess we’re not that close anymore.”

“...I see.” He probably can’t imagine a version of you who wasn’t immensely close to her parents. You couldn’t then, either.

“We’ve been talking even less now that my mother’s in the hospital, but at least I get to talk to him before he eats, maybe. I’ve been doing most of the cooking now that my mother isn’t here and my father doesn’t really know how to handle himself in our kitchen without her guidance.”

“Oh… if you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your mother?”

“Cancer.”

You can practically hear the gulp he’s taking, the bobbing of his throat— sensitive topic. “I’m… so sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay, don’t be,” you reassure him, “I should have told you that day anyway. I was just… exploding at everybody on that night. I should apologise— I’m sorry for how badly I treated you.”

“No,” he goes, “No, you shouldn’t. I understand why you were like that that night. And it was mostly my fault, too, so…”

“No, no, I’m serious! Feel free to ask almost anything as long as I have actual answers to your questions and all.”

“Still… I just wanted to know. Sorry if I caused you any trouble.”

“No— you didn’t do any of that at all, don’t worry! I’m alright with people asking about this. Ah, anyway… besides Yuuji, do you have any friends?”

“Itadori and I aren’t friends.”

“Trust me, if I asked him, I bet he’d beg to differ. Yuuji’s like that with people— soon he’ll be more important to you than you could have ever thought at first.”

“Whatever you say,” he sort of grunts, “But I don’t have any friends, I think… except you, maybe. What about you?”

You were honestly expecting him not to consider you a friend at all, and at this point so much has happened that wouldn’t even be that bothered if he no longer thought of you as one but called you anyway out of his commitment to his promises, or as an apology.

“I’m surprised you can still call me a friend,” you say. Calling people instead of talking to them physically does something to your inhibitions.

“...should I not?”

“No, no, I’m happy,” you say over the phone. You’ll forget this conversation tomorrow, at least, when the sun has risen and the night returns back the hold you have over yourself, your composure, to you. You’ll act like this never happened. So you’ll say whatever you want to now, disgorging yourself of years of withheld secrets. “I’m happy that we’re still friends. I think I like that.

“Yeah?”

“Um— yeah, it seems like a good place to start,” you grin slightly. “And I, well. I don’t really have any friends beyond Yuuji,” —You’re not even sure if Tsumiki still sees you as a friend— “Even if I may have acquaintances like Sasaki or Iguchi it still feels like Yuuji’s one of the only people I can give that kind of title to, so, um… the more the merrier?”

“That’s… nice.”

“...it is, isn’t it?”

“Thank you.”

Why? “Okay.”

The two of you go through the next few seconds in silence, time feeling like it’s blending and bleeding into a mix of years and events. You can hear the light, steady sound of his breathing from the other line. If you could, you’d sleep to it— fuck the phone bill, you’ll be the one paying it in your father’s stead this time if it was for this.

It’s comforting, and you don’t want to break it— the quiet. If he can hear you now, can hear how you’re breathing through a smile with your chest only slightly moving, you hope it feels the same as the sound of his breathing did for you. You hope it feels just like home. Like a warm pillow in the one place you love the most that you bury your head into when the weather gets especially cold.

“Fushiguro!”

Oh dear.

Wincing at the sound of the creaking door’s shrill shriek as it's opened and then hits the wall, you know exactly who it is— you’d recognise that voice anywhere.

“Is that Yuuji?”

“Oi! I told you not to barge into my room like that!” Megumi shouts.

“Huh? You’re calling someone? Sorry. Wait, is it [Name]?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Hi, Yuuji.”

“Can I talk to her?”

“Is it alright if we do, Megumi? Just for a few seconds.”

“Fine,” he sighs. You can practically hear that eye roll.

“Yo!” he cheers.

“Has everything been okay lately?” you ask.

“Yeah. We’re meeting a new student soon.”

“Ah, yeah. Megumi told me.”

“—Oh, and my uniform came in! It looks pretty neat.”

“That’s good. Maybe you can send me a picture once you start wearing it, then.”

“I will!”

Things are going better than you thought they would.

21-6-2018

It’s been a few days now.

You don’t know Sasaki and Iguchi well enough to call them friends, but the three of you do know each other. You had never decided to change any contacts with them, and considering that they and you were never closer than acquaintances, friends of a friend— you had never really regretted it. But now that Yuuji is gone— and you know he’s not dead, but still— you wonder whether you should have gotten closer to them, just to be less alone once Yuuji left, even if it could not be the way things were with Yuuji. (“I thought I was a pretty lonely guy, and sometimes I still do. Like— I mean, you’re a lonely girl too sometimes, I think,” he had told you as you patched him up.)

Still, Yuuji and you were two peas in a pod— so they’re bound to ask what happened to him soon enough, especially Iguchi.

You’ll have to start getting used to spending your Thursdays alone. And then you’d have to start getting used to every other day without him, too. If you went to the arcade or watched movies or sing-screamed the lyrics to English songs you don’t know the Japanese translations of without his presence there, you know how it wouldn’t feel the same. In life it’s not what you do that matters, you’ve come to realise— it’s who you’re doing these things with. That’s what puts meaning to it all and makes all things done in your life worthwhile.

The two of them pass you by during lunch.

“[Last Name]? —Oh, hey!” Sasaki says as she turns around.

You almost scream and run away like a mouse fleeing from the eyes of a vicious house cat, tremors in your voice. “Hello…”

“Where’s Yuuji, by the way? The occult club’s going to fall apart without him.”

You pause. “He transferred to another school…”

“Huh?” she goes, Iguchi almost reeling back in shock. “Transferred? But why? We’ve barely even made it to the middle of the year!”

“I… I don’t know, it was something really urgent,”

23-6-2018

Your room is a cluttered mess— lucky as you are that it’s the weekend, the past week has been a rollercoaster that knocked your room’s usual standard of cleanliness off track. Scattered all over your desk were worksheets, notebooks, graph paper pages and foolscap paper, chicken-scratch writing and meticulous notes scribbled all over them to compensate for your absence the day after the incident took place.

It isn’t the time or the discipline you lack— it’s just that it’s going to be awfully tedious. You’ll have to wipe your desk again, and clean the walls, and sort through all your clothes, too, since you haven’t been folding them in any way that isn’t merely fastidious and nearly careless. So as you get to work, you suppose that calling someone wouldn’t hurt.

Maybe you could call Megumi. That would be okay.

For the past few years, you’ve never noticed it. So when you do, it hits you like a bullet train at the fastest of speeds.

You miss him. Not just in the way you miss 2010, the way you miss the past, the way you miss and mourn the person you used to be. It had been so obvious for Tsumiki, but not for him, and now that you know this it’ll be another quiet revelation— another rediscovery of fragments of yourself concealed by memories.

You miss him— all of him; you yearned to be his friend again because he was unlike Tsumiki who you knew cherished you as you did her; you miss him regardless of who he is now, because somewhere inside him is the boy who read dog books and brought you to the school library and ran your finger through water when you burned it. Somewhere inside him is the person who offered to hold your bag as he walked with you through a snowy garden, and helped you when your nose bled.

So it would be okay to call Megumi right now.

“Fushiguro speaking.”

“Hi, Megumi. Are you busy?”

“Not right now.”

“Want to call?”

“Fushiguro!” It’s Yuuji. “Wanna go—”

“I said I’m not going!”

You chuckle, “Be nice. Were the two of you supposed to go somewhere?”

“Nothing important. Gojo said he wanted us to ‘bond’ with each other, so he concluded that we could watch a movie. Some kind of gory horror film or something.”

He’s… actually making an obvious effort not to scold Yuuji that much or call him some insulting, derogatory term this time… wow.

“Ah, yeah. Yuuji likes his horror movies.”

“Anyway, anything urgent you wanted to tell me?”

“No, I’m just… uh—” you laugh nervously, “I’m just a little bored.” Nowadays you’re not really sure what he’d do— scold you, maybe, or roll his eyes so hard that you can hear it over the line, or he may even flash into a quick bit of awkwardness and hesitation through his words.

Or maybe— and this was the worst of it all, he’d ask why you were calling him, and his bouts of awkwardness would have only been something temporary, soon to be replaced once again by anger and annoyance, the same he gives to everyone else— even if you knew he didn’t always mean it, per se. No more special treatment for you.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, uh… I have to clean, and usually it’s not as much as what I have to do today, so I just thought that since the only other person in the house is my father and we don’t really talk much anymore, we could, um… chat for a while. Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Uh-huh, so.” You stand up, leaving your phone on your desk and putting the call on speaker mode. The mountain of papers and books is a wasteland and your desk has been degraded to a landfill— the state of it would make your mother a wailing mess— no, she’d faint instantly as soon as she saw it, becoming worse of a mess than the table itself was. “Anything interesting happened lately?”

“Not really.”

“Oh—! Yuuji sent me a picture of his uniform the other day. Was that one special?”

“Yeah. But they let students make adjustments to the uniform, and he said he hadn’t changed anything, so I think that was Gojo’s doing.”

“Oh, well, that’s Gojo. It suits him, though, right? Not to sound mean or be presumptuous, but…” you chuckle, “When you wear the uniform, you look so formal. It’s not a bad thing— it’s just that Yuuji’s just always been more casual like that. And the red of the hoodie goes with his hair, too!”

“I guess so.”

“I can’t imagine you wearing anything other than the default uniform, though. Not to insult you, I mean, you still look good in the normal uniform, I just— can’t imagine it.” You remark, sorting the materials and books by size and subject. You’ve got to handle some of the drawers, too, now that you’ve started and can’t stop your momentum just yet. You can already feel the dust particles that have gathered on whatever is inside them still, jostling around once you’ve taken them out.

“If you’re going to say it like that, you can just say it outright.”

“No, no! I mean that I just can’t imagine you wearing, like, Yuuji’s uniform. Wait, what do the other students’ uniforms look like?”

“The second years?”

“Yeah. Did they choose the normal ones?”

“Inumaki did. They have three boys and one girl, but only two of the boys wear the normal uniform. Okkotsu has a special uniform in white.”

“Oh, I see,” you nod your head, “It’s a nice uniform, though. I wish I could wear a uniform that pretty.”

“You could always enrol yourself here,” he suggests, “They’d welcome you with open arms.”

“Maybe they will,” you chuckle, “But my mother would be adamant on me staying in the ‘normal’ world. She’s unyielding like that.”

“And your father?”

“Wouldn’t mind, at least I don’t think…” you say, “I’ll have to wonder when to tell him if I do end up in jujutsu high; you never know when he’s mad. He’s always unpredictable like that nowadays and it’s not… particularly pleasant.”

“I see. It would be good if you were here, though. You would be closer to Dr Ieiri that way. And it would do good, because, um… well, I’d like you here. You’d be… good for the people around you here.”

“Ah, you— you would?” you ask, slightly phased— not like he hasn’t been a bit nicer to you since you’ve seen him again (maybe it was the awkwardness, maybe it was the guilt). “Thank you,” you say, the corners of your mouth tugging up sheepishly, heading to the dusty drawer (you haven’t touched it in what feels like years, usually excluding it from your list of things to clean).

After a scrupulous amount of wiping away at the dust outside of and surrounding it, you open the drawer with a slight bit of anticipation— you don’t expect much, but you’re a person who lingers on the past like a ghost that has forgotten how time has passed. There wouldn’t be much in this drawer to reminisce on, you presume, but you still approach it with an eager fascination— you’re the type to do so, after all.

Of everything there, the most noteworthy are two things you grabbed almost immediately— you could never forget how they felt, and the weight that they held in your life back then: a letter, addressed but never delivered to the person you were talking to right now, and a cigarette with a hastily scribbled slew of numbers on it and a lipstick mark on its end.

Oh, that letter. That letter.

From what you remember, you’ve never rebelled against your parents before. At least, not with anything major— for a long time, you were their good girl, and you never disobeyed them, as much as you wanted to at times. You still are, still stuck with that age-old drive to be useful. (But was there even a point in that anymore? At least, was there one with your parents?). You didn’t picture yourself as any kind of righteous goody-two-shoes, but you definitely weren’t a rebel or a delinquent. You followed their instructions and seldom ever questioned what they told you, and so it had always been subtly implanted in your brain that they would be alright with anything you did or said. Yet the first time you did actually start to question them, you realised that their belief in your ‘obedience’ as pure love— and maybe it was; you loved them so much you were blinded and trusted them with everything and did anything they wanted their baby to do— you realised they only treated you so lovingly if you were not an actual person with your own ideals and beliefs.

(But they still loved you, right?)

Even now, you still do obey them and listen to them. If your father needed anything, he could consider it done; if your mother wanted her clothes to be patched up you’d try your utmost best to withstand the pricking of needles and bring it back to her hospital room with bandaged fingers. It was like that with your mother: even if at times it seemed like the only pain she wanted for you was callouses from a pen or pricks from needles, at other times you feel she could have known you’d end up like her, maybe. Maybe she saw it as a curse: the worlds the two of you were born in were different, and she wanted you to stay in yours, lest you die or live in a world of endless pain.

You’ve been doing it for a long time: being dismissive of yourself, prone to self-prostration, subservient; the lovingness of a mother, the sweetness of a teenage girl (you hoped), the kindness of a caring friend. Maybe it was Tsumiki— maybe it was because you’d always seen this in Tsumiki. She was always smiling, always caring; taking on the weight of motherhood before she could carry the weight of her school bag. Hugging you with her saccharine smile; braiding her hair with gentle hands and holding your wrist with her hair tie on it even gentler. (You still have it with you. You had planned to start taking it off more once Yuuji left, but you suppose some habits take longer than a week to develop.) All while having that sickening, fantastical, mysterious sweetness of a teenage girl in what you now understand could have been a hidden misery— because caring for someone like a mother while suppressing the thoughts that spoke to you to act like a child was something you wanted to replicate until you realised you understood it. And then you no longer wanted to recreate it. (Maybe that was the way it was for every woman or girl you knew: watching someone you loved hurt themself or not being able to do anything to prevent it when they started. Life was a cycle that way. A very annoying, frustrating one full of unfortunate circumstances and wrongly-picked out decks of cards.)

“…you know what? I think I may be able to come,” you tell him.

“You don’t have to go against your father for our sake.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I think I know who to ask for help. Thank you, Megumi.”

“Hi, Dr Ieiri?”

“Kid? That you?” she goes, the slightest bit of excitement stark against her usual deadpan tone. “I thought you’d never call because of that old man.”

“Haha, yeah— sorry to disturb you, but, um, Dr Ieiri? I may want to take you up on that offer, by the way, but um, I’m still on the fence. I mean, I know I want to be like you and do what you do but… I don’t know, I’m not quite sure about leaving the two of them alone here and all. But anyway, I just called you because I wanted to ask if there was, you know, any way you could get me to Tokyo somehow. I need to pass something to someone, but, um… I guess I’m going with this with the hope that I’ll change my mind and join you. But I’m… perpetually on the fence for now, I guess.”

“Pft,” she snorts, “You little rebel, I’m in. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you so much.”

24-6-2018

The decision and the plan were made as swiftly as you could.

You decide to tell your father— you wouldn’t want to deceive him, after all. At least, you’d give him a quick notice. And then you’d leave. Like a snowflake before the first day of spring. He’ll probably tell your mother.

“I’m leaving for Tokyo for a while,” you say, “I’ll be back before you can even realise I’m gone. Invitation from Dr Ieiri.”

25-6-2018

“Why?” your father asks, the night before you leave. He suggested going out together at least once before you left. He always knew when you were making white lies.

“I guess that maybe I’m just too much like you, Daddy.”

For the first time in years he hugs you on the doorstep, patting you on the back on the day you’re set to leave. “Make sure you study and work hard,” he reminds you.

“I’m leaving for Tokyo,” you announce.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving us for a boy,” she goes, rolling her eyes. She doesn’t even blink.

“I’m not.” You are.

“You know, your father travelled all over the country to see me again after we’d first met.”

“Oh. Okay?”

“And he’s always been dedicated to his job and dedicated to helping people.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m saying that the two of you are very similar. I’ve lived through this story before,” she states, “And you look just like your father right now.” your mother says. She hasn’t smiled the way she used to— you remember it vividly, that vibrant gleam in her, the liveliest and loveliest of life— in ages and you don’t think she will, not now of all times.

“Really? Sometimes he says I take after you more.”

“You will.”

It doesn’t feel like a curse. Even if it usually would make your heart well up in guilt, it doesn’t feel like a curse.

Maybe she knows that her time is running out. Maybe this is resignation. Whatever it is, you hold her hand first, but you’re also the first one to let the other go, your fingers slipping away from hers. You leave the door for the last time in a while, making another round in your life of that carousel of abandonment and reuniting and departures.

25-6-2018

Dr Ieiri greets you with a calm smile on her pallid face.

“Good to see you again.”

“It’s good to be back here,” you sigh.

It is.

You keep your hand on your other hand’s wrist, holding them in front of you. The cherry hair tie on it feels warm against your skin as you exit the station, summer heat embracing it softly.

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