#why do I have to take them apart to see their inner workings nowadays. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

elisysd · 2 years ago

Text

Get to know you – Samantha Harvey

Masterlist - Previously - Next Chapter

TW: mention of panic attacks

You can tell me what you like We should jump right into the personal facts

“Oh Lyanna I’m so happy you finally made a friend!”

“He’s not a friend mom, he’s just my neighbor” she answers, scolding her mother while a soft smile is playing on her lips.

“Still, he’s a human being and you barely interact with people nowadays. I consider that as a progress!”

“I’m talking to people mom! It’s kinda part of my job, you know.”

“I meant willingly talking to people, Lya.”

Lyanna sighs. She is not really a social person. She only talks to people when she has to. She had never had a large group of friends. She only has three close friends that she has known since she was a kid and have been part of her life ever since. She could trust them with her life and she considers them as family. She told her mom that she had work to do and hung up. It didn’t matter if it’s half true.

She should not have talked about Charles to her mom. She will keep asking questions about him and force her to interact with her neighbor. It’s not that she was not interested in talking to him, she simply didn’t see the point of it. She will leave soon, why would she make a new friend? Her psychologist would scold her. Lyanna, you need to put yourself out there, you need to meet new people, you need to trust people. Not everyone will stab you in the back.

But a part of her wanted to prove to her mom that she was fine, that she was not alone and was following her psychologist advice. Then again, it’s not entirely true but what her mom didn’t know couldn’t hurt her, right?

She glared at the grocery shopping bags that were waiting for her in the entrance and without knowing how, her mind drifted to Charles. A good neighbor that is new in the building should try to be civilized and polite. She should go out and properly introduce herself. That’s what she was supposed to do, right? At least, she thought so. She had never done that in the past. She didn’t know how to interact with normal people. She never goes out if she doesn’t have to. Hell, she used the delivery option usually when it comes to grocery shopping. The only people she talked to are people related to work. Castmates, directors, make-up artist, hairdresser and so on. When it came to people stopping her the rare times, she was outside by herself, she put her Lyanna Michel’s mask. She was never just Lyanna, even more rarely Lya. She could feel her anxiety rising.

She reached for her phone; she plugged her headphones and almost as if she was turning into an automatic mode, she opened the application that her psychologist advised her to download when she was feeling like she was losing control. She breathed in and breathed out following the calm and soothing voice of the woman in the app.

Once she had a clear head and her breathing was steady, she opened the cupboards of her kitchen and unpacked the groceries from the bags. Food always made people happy. She wouldn’t go wrong with a cake as a “hi I’m your new neighbor” kinda thing. At least that’s what she thought.

Two hours later she was standing in front of Charles’s apartment, a plate of chocolate muffins in her hands. Taking a deep breath, she knocked and waited. Maybe he wasn’t there? Maybe he was working? Maybe he had friends or family over and didn’t want to be disturbed? Maybe he had a girlfriend or a boyfriend? Fortunately for her (or unfortunately depending on the point of view), Charles ended her inner monologue by opening the door.

She definitely was the last person he thought would stand in front of him. He was not expecting anyone, he took his afternoon to train at home on the simulator and intended to go through his notes of the first part of the season later. Maybe go out in the evening with friends if he could find someone that was up for it. Having his neighbor over was definitely a surprise. A nice one. Out of his acquaintances, she definitely was the one he expected the less to show up at this door.

He could see that she was uncomfortable. A doe caught in the headlights would appear less frightened than her at the moment. She was shifting uncontrollably from one foot to another and her gaze was everywhere but on him.

“Hello, hi, hum… I don’t know if you remember me. I’m your neighbor, the one who lives above you and… anyway. I made muffins. Not for you specifically. I mean, you can have one if you want. Or many more, I won’t judge. What I’m trying to say is: I baked in order to introduce myself to the neighborhood and since you’re the only one that I already know I thought that I would start with you. But if I’m bothering, I can come back later. Or never. Just tell me.”

“Come in” Charles simply said.

“What? For real?”

“Well, unless you plan of eating all that by yourself here. I mean, suit yourself but sitting down would me much easier” He joked.

She nodded and followed him inside. He guided her towards an open kitchen, well equipped with sleek counters. It was way too much clean and perfect for her. As if he wasn’t using the kitchen a lot. Maybe he was the type of person who prefers ordering food online or he wasn’t at home very much.

She left the muffins on the kitchen’s bar and sat on one of the stools while Charles took two glassed from one of the cupboards and poured two glasses of water. She wasn’t feeling drinking anything other than water to be honest, her throat was dry from the anxiety.

“So you’re new to Monaco.”

It was not a question; it was a statement and it threw her of her feet a little.

“Yes, I came here because of work. I live in London originally.”

“Really? That’s so cool. Are you a Londoner born and raised?”

“Oh no. I moved there five years ago. I’m French.”

NB from the author: From there let’s pretend that all their conversations will be in French, I’ll still write them in English for obvious reasons.

“So this is where the accent comes from! It’s not noticeable at all, I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what accent you had. But still, it’s there.”

“And you, are you from here?”

“Born and raised. Couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. When did you move here”

“Two weeks ago. Didn’t go out much, spent most of the time in the apartment, working. If I’m being honest, I find it hard to enjoy living here. Everything screams money everywhere. I don’t like that. Sorry.”

“Maybe you just need someone that is from here and could show you around.”

“Are you talking about you?”

“Well, yeah why not? I don’t have much to do anyway. So, you’re up for it?”

“I don’t know. I’m really busy and being out in public is not something that I like... I have to think about it.”

Seeing how uncomfortable the topic made her, Charles decided to change the subject. Deep down he knew that it was going to take up a lot of convincing to persuade her to let him guide her around Monaco, but he was determined to make her love his city. Or at least, make her tolerate it.

“So you said, you are here for work. Can I ask you what you do for a living?”

As soon as he mentioned her job, he could see a shift in her posture. Well, he seemed to know exactly how to make her at ease…

“I’m working in the entertainment industry. What about you?”

There was all the confirmation he needed. She didn’t know him. As in Charles Leclerc, F1 driver for the Scuderia Ferrari. She didn’t strike him as a F1 fan anyway in the first place, but you never know. Still as she seemed to be careful with how she was talking about her job he decided to do the same. She was nice and he didn’t think that she would run to the first tabloid if she knew what his job was, but still. Better be safe than sorry.

“I’m in the automobile industry.”

“Oh, great. Don’t know much about cars. I don’t drive and I don’t have my license, so I won’t pretend to know exactly what your job implies. Do you sell cars? Are you the one that is selling all the Ferrari I see in Monaco?” She joked.

“Well, kinda. But not really. I mean, I’m not the one to blame for all the luxurious cars around here.”

“You are really evasive about your job.”

“I could say the same thing about you.”

“True… Let’s say that my job always seems to attract bad people around me, or made me loose some people that I considered as friends.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling… sometimes I feel like my job is the only thing that defines me. People don’t look above it. I’m often reduce to it. It can be tiring but I got used to it by now.”

“Exactly! I hate that…”

A long silence followed the discussion. Charles didn’t want to rush her. He didn’t know her but he quickly understood that if she was going to talk, it would be rather on her own terms. She drank the rest of her water and contemplated the emptiness of the glass, clearly lost in thought. He right leg was bouncing. She seemed to fight he own battles inside of her. It was something Charles knew all too well.

“I know that we don’t know each other, but if I’m telling you what my job is, can you promise me to not run in the opposite direction?” she began, not looking him in the eyes.

“Not only I promise you, but also I will tell you what I do as well.” He reassured her softly.

Another long pause.

“I’m an actress.”

Seeing that Charles was not reacting, she continued.

“I came in Monaco to shoot a romcom. I’m here for three months. But maybe you saw me in the last Steven Spielberg movie, I got nominated for an Oscar for it. I don’t to want you to think I’m bragging or anything, it’s just that I want you to understand why I’m so secretive and don’t like too personal questions... I don’t want my private life to leak in the press. It happened once and it was a horrible, horrible time. So yeah… I’m very careful of who I let in in my life.”

“I’m a F1 driver. I drive for Ferrari. I travel around the world most of the year and sometimes it gets lonely. In no mean do I say that I fully understand how your job impacts your life but from my experience, I know that when you reach a certain level of fame, your entourage changes a lot. It’s harder to trust people. You never know why they are with you. But I don’t think that closing off from the rest of the world is healthy. In the end, you’re still a human being. We’re not above anyone.”

“That’s what I’m working on with my therapist. I don’t know much about F1, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. I don’t watch a lot of movie, I don’t have the time even I would love to, so I don’t think I’ve ever seen something you’re in.”

“You don’t know how much it means to me to hear that. It’s refreshing.” She smiles softly as if he had taken a big weight off her shoulders.

“Maybe I will try to look you up online. I’m curious now. And maybe you could watch your movies with me? What do you think?”

“Only if you teach me some things about F1 and cars.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #writing #fiction #charles leclerc imagines #cl16 #charles leclerc x female reader #cl16 x reader

130 notes · View notes

buckys-black-dress · 3 years ago

Text

see through

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

a/n: i dont have much to say other than that it's 1 am and i needed to get this out of my system. chapter 4 of play the game is underway, i promise. also, there will be a pov switch in this fic!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. = POV change!

wc: 4.1k words

[ neighbor!bucky barnes x fem!reader ]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Every Friday night, without fail, you saw the light filter into your apartment.

Notice how you said night?

Yeah, it was almost two in the morning, by the way.

And why was there light coming through the chiffon curtains you had hanging on the rod above your window?

(Great choice on your part, by the way.)

Well, because of your neighbor.

You've seen him a few times, actually. Usually on the street outside your buildings, or just out and about. Never spoke to him, though. He was quiet, kept to himself. Didn't seem very friendly or willing to exchange a greeting if he ever saw you.

But you never took it personally. Maybe he was having a bad day. Every time you saw him.

But that's besides the point. The point right now is that you can see the lights blaring in your room. From the apartment across from yours.

Should it even be possible for light to travel that far? I mean, we don't even live in the same building. You think to yourself as you watch the colors dance in the dark.

You debate getting up and yelling out your window to tell him to shut that shit off or to invest in some blackout curtains. You were tired of sacrificing your sleep every week.

But then you decided against it, because you quite frankly could not be bothered to get up from the warmth of your bed. You'd tough it out for the night, but the next time you saw him, you'd have a few words for him.

The next morning, it was almost ten when you woke up. You didn't have your shift at the coffee shop you worked at until three, so you took your time in making your way out of bed.

You noticed the curtains of your neighbor's apartment were still open, but you could see his figure moving across the room. He was clearly on the phone with someone, and he didn't look too happy. You wondered what could have him so angry at such an early time of the morning. He seemed like a person who could use someone to talk to, someone who he could vent to.

But before you let your thoughts get ahead of you, you turn away from the window, heading back into your kitchen to eat breakfast and get ready for the long day ahead of you.

"Hi, what can I get started for you today?" You ask as brightly as you can muster at the moment. You were halfway through your shift, another three hours until close.

"Uh, just a large black coffee." The gruff voice says, and it takes you a second until you look up and look closely.

It was him.

"O-okay, that'll be $3.27." You say, and he hands you a five dollar note before grumbling,

"Keep the change."

"Thanks, and your name?"

He gives you a look that's asking, 'what the fuck do you need my name for?'

"For the order." You try and salvage your dignity, because it feels like the stare shrunk you to a speck of dust.

"James."

That's all he all but growls before turning back to find a seat.

As your coworker takes over the cash register, you grab the biggest cup and fill it with his desired coffee.

You try to not think about it too much, but the anxiety you feel rising up inside you and just calling his name to give him his coffee feels absolutely ridiculous.

"Are you just gonna stare at the cup or give it to the customer?" The voice of your coworker, Jenna, rings in your ears and you look up at her, snapping out of the trance you were in.

"Sorry, I'm just a little out of it today, I guess."

"Everything alright?" She asks, and you nod.

"I'm fine, it's just... that's my neighbor." You nod your head towards where James is sat, in the corner by the window as he watches the raindrops run down the expanse of the glass.

"The one who doesn't let you sleep?"

"Yeah, but I don't think he'd take it too kindly if I tell him about that. He seems to have a lot on his own plate anyways," You explain, and she just nods.

"Well, that sucks, but you still need ta' give the guy his coffee." Jenna smiles and walks back to what she was doing before.

You gently slide out from your spot behind the counter and walk to his table.

"Here's your coffee, James. Enjoy, and- uh, let me know if you'd like anything else." You tell him while placing the steaming cup in front of him.

He murmurs a thank you that you barely catch, but you don't quite have the time to sit and wait for more of a reaction.

For the next several hours, James sits right where he was. He doesn't do anything in particular, either. He just watches outside, as the rain continues to pelt down on New York City, and as people come and go from where they were.

Eventually, about an hour left until close, you offer another cup of coffee.

"Do you want a refill? On the house." You ask gently, waiting to see if you'll get brushed off again.

"Uh... are you allowed to do stuff like that?" He asks, and you're a bit taken aback at the sudden concern.

"I don't think you should worry yourself too much, James. Free coffee's free coffee." You smile lightly, and grab the cup before filling it up without his confirmation. You could tell he wanted to say yes but didn't want to seem rude.

"You didn't have to..." He grumbles, and you simply shake your head.

"I know, but you've been here a while, and what kind of employee would I be if I let a customer sit here without any sustenance?" Your lips ply into a tiny smirk, trying to get him to loosen up a bit.

He seems so guarded, defensive. Like any moment, he's ready to run if need be, you inspect to yourself.

"You'd just be a regular employee, Y/N." He says, but the way he says your name makes a shiver run down your spine; and you can't tell if it's a good or bad one.

You unconsciously look down at your name tag, pinned to your black apron that's branded with the café's logo.

"Well, I felt like being nice. I hope you can deal." Your voice comes out short, but he knows you mean no harm.

As you walk back to the counter, you see a small smile playing on his lips, but he doesn't allow it to manifest on his face. You take that as a small victory for your last hour of work.

(bucky's pov).・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The girl who works at this café is annoying.

But she's got a nice smile. And she's nice to me, Bucky thinks to himself.

He sips on the new coffee you'd just poured for him, without his consent, he thinks bitterly.

But it was a nice gesture.

Why can't you just take a nice gesture?

Because your brain's been scrambled eggs for 70 years. You don't know what to think about anything these days.

He watches you fiddle with the espresso maker, cleaning it with a rag, which you then dip into a bucket.

You look extremely familiar to him, but he can't exactly pin where he's seen you before.

Bucky closes his eyes for a moment, trying to recall where he'd seen you, but for a moment, he comes up with nothing.

Ever since he's been living back in the real world, he hasn't been outside too much.

He goes on the occasional walk, or goes to the tower to see Steve and Sam.

But other than that, he spends a lot of time in his Brooklyn apartment. He watches movies that Steve suggests, or he invites Steve and Sam over to have beer and watch TV with him.

He hates how lonely it gets, though.

Bucky wishes that he had someone.

Someone who could understand.

And don't get him wrong, he loves Sam and Steve. They fill in the gaps in his days, and they make them better.

Sometimes, thinking about having something to do that day is what makes it. He likes having something to do, something to plan for for when his friends come over.

But it feels like a teeny, tiny part of his life is missing. A person shaped-hole in his heart.

But Bucky doesn't spend too long thinking about it, or it'll send him into a spiral about failure and how he needs to 'push himself to get out there more.'

Or that's what his therapist says.

"Hey, we're about to close, and we usually throw the pastries out at the end of the day. Do you wanna take these home, by any chance?" Your voice rings in his ears, snapping him out of the impending slippery slope of his lack of love life.

He hesitates to answer for a second, looking at the brown paper bag pinched between your fingers.

Bucky can tell you were nervous when you spoke to him. He knew he made you uneasy, and it killed him inside.

He hated that. He just wanted to have a normal conversation with someone. But everyone seems to know who he is.

Who he was.

"Uh, what is it?" He croaks, unsure of what to say at your gesture.

"It's a few cookies and a chocolate croissant."

"Sure, I'll take 'em." Bucky simply answers, watching as you hand the bag over with a soft smile and watches you walk back.

You sweep up the floor and put up all the chairs, except for the one Bucky's sitting on. You leave his table alone, and bid farewell to your coworker who was scheduled to close with you.

Bucky doesn't know what drives him to do it, but he gets up after he sees you walk out the door, and follows you home.

Damn, if you like a girl, you usually ask for her number or somethin'. Not follow her home to make sure she's safe, you idiot. Bucky's inner voice speaks and sometimes, he wishes it would just shut up because he knows he has no game nowadays, but this is all he knows to do.

He realizes the way you're walking is familiar, and not at all of the way he was supposed to be going. That made him feel a little better, less like a creep. He's about half a block behind you, and when you turn onto the same street he lives on, he's really confused.

Did you know he was behind you? Are you trying to play a trick on him?

But before Bucky can speak up or say something, you walk right past his building, and into the one right next to it.

All of a sudden, images of you right on the street in front of your buildings flash through his head. He's seen you because you're his neighbor. Bucky's seen you right there, getting ready to start your run through the neighborhood, or probably on your way to work, now that he's seen where you work.

But he feels like there's somewhere else he's seen you; somewhere familiar.

He shakes his head, wondering why he's so caught up in you. He thought you were beautiful, but he feels a pull to you that he's never felt with anyone else before.

Bucky's hands move to unlock his door, sliding the key in and twisting the lock open.

He enters, staring at his dark apartment. It's moments like this, when he spends a long day alone, that he wishes there was someone.

Someone to come home to, to hug, to kiss, to share dinner with.

Some to fall asleep with at night. Someone to keep the terrors of the dark away.

But there was no one.

And then his mind thought back to you. Your hair, your face, your warm hands that touched his while you passed him the brown paper bag of treats.

Bucky wishes he was man enough to ask you out. Not even that, just to talk to you. Have a normal conversation, to get to know you.

But that wasn't in the cards for him anytime soon, he thinks.

For now, he focuses on taking things one at a time. And right now, all he wanted was a nice, warm shower and to get at least three hours of sleep tonight.

He's in his room, forgoing the lights for now, before he looks out his window.

For a moment, he believes his eyes are playing tricks on him.

There's absolutely no way that you are standing right there, right outside his window.

Well, in your own apartment, of course.

And there's absolutely no way in hell that Bucky is watching you undress right now.

As soon as you pull off your top, Bucky turns around before he could get more than a peek of your black lace bra, and he feels a burn in the pit of his stomach.

He can't tell if it's shame, guilt, or arousal.

(y/n's pov).・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You couldn't stop thinking about James all day.

After yesterday, you wondered why you couldn't shake this feeling about him.

He'd made it quite clear that he's not a people person. Or maybe he just wasn't a you person.

But again, you tried to not take things too personally these days.

Sometimes, you wondered, though, as you looked through your bedroom window to his some nights.

You imagined what it would be like, watching one of those movies with him at night. Making dinner with him. Having coffee in the mornings before work, wondering what he did for a living.

You chastise yourself for your thoughts, thinking that you were crazy for these ideas you were coming up with out of nowhere.

As you pull off your clothes to get ready for bed, you feel the same emptiness fill your heart when your head hits the pillow, and another day has gone by where you're all alone.

The next day, your shift was at ten in the morning so you were up early.

You took your time in rolling out of bed. The warmth of your duvet was holding you down, and you couldn't help take a peek out your window.

You see that the room facing yours is finally housing a body in the bed. In all the time you'd been living across him, you've only seen him on the floor.

You feel a warm flutter at that. Whatever reason led him to actually sleep in the bed last night was, you hope you played a role in it.

You make your way to the café, and although walking in the rain wasn't ideal, you made it, somehow.

You clock in and head to the register, ready to take the millions of orders that come in through the day.

"Hi- oh! Welcome back. What can I get you?" Your tone of voice made it clear you were surprised, but was trying to not let it show.

"Uhm, just the same as yesterday, and... Can I get a chocolate croissant?" Bucky's gruff voice tells you.

You ring him up, wondering if you should say something about him being your neighbor. Although, he didn't seem too keen on looking you in the eye right now, and you wonder if you did something to make him uncomfortable yet again.

He seems to have this issue quite often.

Little do you know, this time, it isn't because of you or anything you did.

Well, nothing you did on purpose.

Nothing you were aware of at the time.

Anyways, you tell James to go take a seat and that you'd be right out with his order.

"Here you go, James," you place the plate and mug on the table, and this time, when you hear him say something, you turn around with furrowed brows.

"Sorry, I didn't catch what you said." You apologize, waiting for him to repeat himself.

"I- nevermind, it was stupid anyways. You probably have to get back to work." He mumbles while looking back down at his pastry.

"James, whatever it is, you can tell me." You offer with a kind smile. "I can come sit with you during my break, if you don't mind?" A hopeful smile crosses your face.

"Uh, I- yes, yeah, that would be nice." He struggles for a moment, but finally nods his head in confirmation along with his words.

"Alright, James. I get off in an hour for my break." You simply tell him with a soft grin, and you can practically feel his eyes burning into you as you walk away.

The blush creeping up your cheeks also stays there until the remainder of your shift.

As you plop in the chair across from James, you inspect him for a moment.

He was attractive, you'll admit.

Okay, he was more than attractive.

"So, James, where are you from?" You ask, your own cup of coffee in front of you on the table.

"Well, I'm Brooklyn born 'nd raised. Never was a time I didn't live here. You?" His lip twitches, looking out the window fondly.

"That's nice. I moved here when I was nine, so I guess I've been here a while. But no matter where I go, there's nowhere like home." You smile.

"There really isn't, huh? This place is irreplaceable." He gives you a crack of another smile, and you find yourself yearning for more from him. Just a tooth, something.

"Well, do you live around here?" You ask, deciding to play coy. You wanted to see what he'd say.

"Uh, yeah, actually. Over on DeKalb and Clinton." He clears his throat, the hint of a smile on his face melting right off.

"Huh, that's so funny. I live on those streets too." You grin, waiting to see his reaction.

"O-Oh really?" James doesn't really know what to say without giving away that he knows where you fucking live.

"Yeah, isn't that funny? Which building?" You're pressing, and you know he knows, but you're having your fun right now.

"T-the uhm... I live in the Washington." He's now making zero eye contact with you, and you're close to breaking.

"What a coincidence! I live in the Oakley!" You're in a fit of giggles when his face drops, you just can't help it anymore.

"James, can I tell you something?" You ask in a coquettish manner.

"Yeah, I suppose you'll tell me even if I say no." He gives a tight smile as a joke.

"I don't wanna sound like a creep, but I knew you lived in the Washington."

"Oh," James releases a breath of relief, "thank God. I knew you lived in the Oakley, but I didn't wanna sound like a stalker either." He says.

You laugh, sliding a hand on top of his resting on the table.

"Y'know, you do this really annoying thing where you leave your movies running on full brightness on your TV, and I can see it through my windows at night." You laugh at the incredulity of the situation.

"Oh... I never even thought of that. I'm sorry, Y/N." He looks genuinely remorseful, and now you feel bad for any bad thought you've had about the man that lives across from you.

"It's alright. No big deal." Your smile does a good job of convincing Bucky that you truly weren't bothered by his actions, but he still felt bad.

"Y'know, maybe I could make it up to you?" He asks, and you feel a blush moving up your chest. "Like, maybe over dinner?" His voice is timid, you can tell by the way he tilts his head down while speaking.

"James," you slide your hand into his this time, your smaller one resting in his large metal one. "I'd love to go out with you sometime."

Before he could react, you stood up from the chair.

"My break's over, but I get off at 3." You lean down and pull a pen from your apron, scribbling your number onto a napkin. "Here."

You walk away before he could say anything, but there's something about him this time that you notice.

He's blushing, too. And he's smiling. A bright, white, blinding smile.

You think of that smile throughout your whole shift, until you see he's still waiting for you when it's time to go.

"So, do you like Chinese or Italian better?" He asks with a crooked smile.

bonus scene:

six months later

You and Bucky are laid across your bed, the TV blaring a movie that neither of you are paying attention to. Your head is resting on his shoulder, leg thrown over both of his, and his hand running through your hair.

"You wanna know somethin' doll?" Bucky asks, and you feel his chest rumble under your head.

"Yeah, everything okay?" You ask while leaning up on your elbow to get a good look at him, trying to gauge his mood.

"Everything's okay, just remembered something." He laughs, his hand moving to hold your jaw in it. You shivered at the touch, but smiled fondly at the action.

"When I first saw you at the coffee shop, that first day when you gave the free coffee and pastries... I followed you home."

Your brows furrow and it's clear that you were confused as to why.

"I wanted to make sure you got home safe, and then it turned out that you lived right next to me. So I went up to my apartment and wondered what I'd done right in a past life to have you live right next to me, and then I saw you lived right across from me." His face was tipped upwards, like he was replaying that night in his head.

"You followed me home just to make sure I was safe?" You asked in disbelief that he did something so nice for you, when at the time you thought he hated you.

"Of course, sweetheart. It was dark out and there 're some real jerks out there, y'know." One corner of his mouth lifts up in a soft smirk. "Didn't want anything to happen to ya."

You lean down and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, appreciating his gesture.

"I really thought you didn't like me back then, so this is a nice little secret you've been hiding from me." You giggle when he pulls you back in for a real kiss.

"Yeah, well, I don't think I could'a hated you if I tried, baby. You're too sweet. And at the time, I was still getting used to being out in the open without being a national security threat." You both laugh lightly, dropping your head down.

A moment passes where you bask in his words, letting them soak in. And then a thought hits you, and you can't help but become more curious. Now you need to know the answer.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, hon." Now Bucky's brows are pulled together, and you reach up and smooth out the wrinkle with your thumb.

"Did you ever... see me doing anything in here? Like, I usually keep the curtains open, and even if they're closed, they're pretty see-through..." You trail off, giving him time to craft his response.

You have a feeling you know the answer, considering how he turns red like a tomato in an instant as words leave your lips.

"I... there was this one time, but I swear, I wasn't trying to peep on you or anything, it was the same day I followed you and I just so happened to look into your window, and you were getting undressed, but I swear, I turned away as soon as I saw what you were doing, baby-" He was rambling, trying to save himself from sounding like a complete creep after all he's just told you.

"Did you like it?" You ask, innocently, but he knew what you were trying to do.

"I-I- You were getting undressed, sweetheart, of course I liked it... are you kidding me?" Bucky's grasping for the words, trying to make you understand.

"Well... we could always recreate it, but maybe in the same apartment this time?" You cock your head to the side, your doe eyes stirring a feeling in his abdomen.

"I think that's an excellent idea, honey." Bucky's hands grasp your waist as you slide on top of his lap. "After all, I am a hands on learner."

fin. i hope you enjoyed!

#bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes reader insert #neighbor!bucky #bucky barnes au

452 notes · View notes

inkykeiji · 4 years ago

Text

if i find a way would you walk it with me

characters: dabi, shigaraki tomura

genre: hmm a healthy mixture of fluff and angst, i think

notes: weeee set in the break my bones but act as my spine universe!! ever wonder how dabi’s apology to the reader goes??? how he ‘makes it up’ to her???? well here u go! bit of tomura at the beginning because i couldn’t help myself yikes!! -sigh- poor dabi <33 | title credit: star shopping by lil peep

warnings: uhhhhh one (1) mention of cum in that very first paragraph (nice) but other than that i think it’s all good??? OH oh + use of the word Daddy (u shouldn’t be surprised by this point lol)

words: 3.7k

synopsis:

“I’m sorry for being an asshole,” he says, and to the untrained ear his voice would sound flat and monotonous, maybe even rude, like he doesn’t give a fuck about the words tumbling from his lips. But you—you can hear it, the sheer honesty embedded in his tone, the rawness bleeding into his voice, the way it’s ever-so-slightly rougher around the edges than it normally is.

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

It’s rare, nowadays, that you wake up to Tomura still at home. He’s sure to give you goodbye kisses every single morning before he leaves for work—kisses that last way longer than they should, kisses that are slow and messy, that manage to pull little mewls from you and leave you breathless, kisses that more often than not turn into your hands fisting in his dress shirt, little fingers playing with the buttons as you sleepily pull him closer, pleading in soft whimpers for him to fill you with cum before he goes—but he’s rarely still around by the time you actually wake up.

So, naturally, it startles you when you hear his voice, deep and gentle, murmuring that it’s time for you to wake up, princess, as slim fingers brush your hair away from your face, tracing along your cheek and jaw. Rolling onto your back quickly, your eyes snap open and you breathe out his name, heart pounding in excitement as you push yourself up onto your elbows, bleary gaze finding his.

Your near instantaneous reaction pulls a little chuckle from him, crimson eyes shining as they study your face, voice tender when he tells you that he finds your eagerness cute.

A pout settles on your lips briefly at his teasing, evaporating the moment your foggy brain realizes that he’s still home.

“Daddy! What’re you—A-Are you taking me to school today?” you gasp, sitting up a little straighter, a tiny glimmer of optimism in your eye.

And, God, the sheer, unadulterated hope on your face, eyes bright and as they search his, a tentative little smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you anxiously await his answer…it breaks his heart to shake his head slowly—he swears it fucking cracks in his chest when your expression absolutely falls, makes it feel like his ribcage is caving in, yielding under the weight of the ache that settles deep at the very core of his body.

A large hand cups your face, calloused thumb caressing your cheekbone, your eyes closing briefly at the contact, nuzzling into the warmth of his palm.

“No, angel,” he tells you softly, a frown marring his lips. “I have a meeting this afternoon, and it was easier to take the morning off and work from home,”

It’s only partially a lie—he does have a meeting, some fancy lunch with pharmaceutical distributors interested in investing in the drug they’re currently developing—but the ‘work’ he’s doing from home would technically be more productive if done at his office.

Really, he’s worried about how things might go with Dabi. If things get worse, there’s a chance he might just bring you to the stupid lunch with him instead, university be damned.

But you—you can’t help the sudden onslaught of tears that spring into your eyes, emitting a quiet, hurt sound that you nearly choke on as your chest hitches with a tiny sob, head nodding jerkily. Tomura coos, forehead wrinkling in concern as large hands find your hips, pulling you onto his lap and cradling you to his chest.

You shouldn’t be this upset. You know you shouldn’t—not over Tomura not being able to take you to school, and not over Dabi’s sharp words from yesterday. No, Dabi’s words shouldn’t even matter to you, shouldn’t mean anything at all…so why does dread flood your body at the prospect of seeing him, of being stuck in a car with him for a good half hour, at least? Why does it feel like your heart’s turned to corrosive acid, eroding everything around it, when you consider if he actually meant what he said, if that’s how he truly feels?

“I don’t wanna see him, Daddy,” you mumble into his shoulder, eyes squeezing shut tightly against the inexplicable fresh wave of tears the mere thought affords you.

“I know, baby,” Tomura says softly, fingers trailing up and down your spine. “I know,”

He doesn’t want to think about why Dabi’s words, that one simple sentence, have you so torn up.

Nor do you.

✰ ✰ ✰

Dabi arrives just as you’re finishing your breakfast, switching between fork and pen as you annotate a last-minute reading for school.

The entire atmosphere morphs the very instant he steps foot in the penthouse, and you swear you can almost see the tension in the air, heavy and suffocating. You wish Tomura were with you, have half a mind to hop up and run into his home office as you glance over at those thick mahogany doors with your lip caught between your teeth, but then Dabi’s heavy footsteps come to a halt, and your gaze snaps back to him.

He stops a few feet away, staring at you with those stupidly pretty sapphire eyes, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his black leather jacket.

His face used to be unreadable, but you’ve gotten better at deciphering his expressions, at decoding them to reveal fragments of his thoughts or mood, since you began spending more than eight hours a day with him.

So you know what it means when his jaw clenches twice (annoyed and dreading the interaction), when his front teeth nibble at the inner skin of his lip (unsure and nervous), when he readjusts his stance, nudging his feet just a little further apart (anticipating a verbal blow).

Placing your pen down on your textbook, you turn on your barstool to look at him fully, arms crossed over your chest and legs crossed at the ankles.

You steadily hold his gaze, and he briefly wonders if you’re expecting an apology, what Tomura told you about their discussion late last night, if Tomura told you about their discussion late last night.

“Hey,” he says, wincing at how gravelly his voice sounds and clearing his throat.

A beat of silence passes between you.

“Hi,”

“About yesterday…” he begins, eyebrows pushing together as he trails off, exhaling a harsh breath through his nostrils.

God, he fucking hates this. He hates that he spent most of the morning, the drive to and from going to get your apology gift, rehearsing what he was going to say, hates that it completely vanishes from his mind the moment he sees you, glaring at him in expectation or apprehension—he’s not sure, he can’t tell.

He hates that this is stupidly difficult—definitely more difficult than throwing an apology and gift at you should be—can’t fucking stand the incomprehensible feelings swirling around in his chest, the ones that make him feel like he’s inhaling smoke, choking on air, like he can’t manage to get enough oxygen into his lungs no matter how deeply he inhales.

He swallows, throat dry and scratchy, runs his tongue along the front of his teeth, and tries again.

“About yesterday,” he repeats, more sternly this time. “That was—I probably shouldn’t have said that,”

And the face you make as the word probably leaves his lips—features crumpling and contorting, your mask of passivity disintegrating to reveal pained eyes and a little pout—has him quickly backtracking before he even realizes what he’s doing.

“Definitely—I definitely shouldn’t have said that,” his chest heaves with the force of a heavy sigh, raking a hand aggressively through his hair. “I didn’t mean it. I, uh, I promise,” his eyes bore into yours, his stare so intense it takes everything in your power not to look away.

It’s unsettling in the very least, to hear him this unsure of himself. You think you might even be able to detect the smallest hint of a tremble to his voice, but it only seems to be audible on certain words.

It makes your heart ache in the most inexplicable way, bottom lip jutting out further as your pout deepens. Really, you think you should still be furious at him. Really, you wish you were. You shouldn’t be feeling sympathy for him, not after the way he’s treated you the past few weeks. You shouldn’t have to resist the urge to run to him, to take his face between your hands and tell him that it’s alright, it’s fine, you forgive him—anything just to stop the way his voice quivers ever-so-slightly on the word promise, anything to eradicate the melancholy in his eyes.

“Look—what I’m trying to say, I guess, is—”

The tiniest, softest little mewl sounds from his jacket and he looks down sharply, scowling at it. Eyebrows knitting, you laugh a little, head quirking to the side in confusion.

“Do you…Do you have a cat in your jacket, or something?”

Dabi sighs, shaking his head and murmuring something about how this was totally not your cue, furball as he holds his worn leather jacket open, revealing a small kitten stuffed into one of the inner pockets. He fishes it out gently—it’s so tiny that it fits in the palm of his hand—and holds it out to you, a peace offering.

You blink rapidly, shaking your head in disbelief with an odd little smile on your face. “Is it—Is it for m-me?”

Dabi rolls his eyes, but there’s a smirk on his face. “Of course, stupid,”

A surprised giggle escapes your lips as you jump up, rushing forward to take the kitten from him and cradling it to your chest, cooing softly. Dabi thinks it’s one of the sweetest things he’s ever seen, entirely powerless to stop the tender look that settles in his eyes as he observes you.

A thick, silky red ribbon tied in a large obnoxious bow adorns the kitten’s neck, a small tag attached to it with Dabi’s messy handwriting scrawled across it: I’m sorry for being an asshole. It’s fucking cheesy, cliché as hell, and you love every single thing about it.

“It’s uh, a Maine Coon, I think,” Dabi shrugs a little, hand rubbing at the back of his neck unsurely as his eyes dart away. “I paid a fucking fortune for him,” he says with a small self-deprecating smirk. “Three times the goddamn regular price,”

Your head snaps up, wide eyes finding his as the kitten gnaws on one of the drawstrings of your—Tomura’s—hoodie. “What?”

He shifts a little under your intense gaze. “Well, yeah, he technically belonged to someone else. Y’know how with those fancy breeders you gotta fill out those massive application forms and then wait for like, two years and all that bullshit,” he waves a hand in explanation as his voice trails off.

“Y-You paid six thousand dollars for this cat?”

“Just over,” he nods. “Plus a forty-five minute argument with the breeder, all for that damn furball, so you better fucking appreciate him, cause that guy was a jackass,”

Silence blankets the room again. You’re looking at him weirdly, and it’s starting to make his skin crawl, anxiety beginning to rise in his throat as he stares back at you, subconsciously holding his breath. Are you still angry? Do you not like the cat, was it the wrong breed? It was a cat you wanted, wasn’t it? Was this too stupid? Was it too much? Was it not enough? Tomura’s frequent yet random gifts are hard to compete with, but, fuck, he tried his best. He wanted to get you something that he knew you really wanted—he could’ve sworn he’s heard you go off on a tangent about how much you love cats, how you’ve never been allowed to have one before, at least three times in the short time he’s known you. He considered getting you the standard luxury shit women are ‘supposed’ to like, or whatever—he isn’t really into that gendered bullshit—but Tomura spoils you with these things so often and, well, they didn’t really feel like an apology.

Tingles flood your veins, feeling like sparks are coursing through your entire body, the thought of someone doing something so—so considerate making you feel giddy at first, then guilty. How could you not believe him, not believe his apology is sincere, when this gift proves to you just how attentive he actually is? That he doesn’t simply tune out your mindless rambling as he drives you to school, or when he lets you rest your head against his thigh after a long day? You’ve lamented to Dabi countless times about how you’ve always wanted a kitten—a Maine Coon in particular—and, knowing it’s the one thing Tomura hasn’t gotten for you, wouldn’t get for you…

Hastily placing the kitten on the island, you leap up, moving so quick he barely has time to register what the hell’s going on before you barrel straight into him, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. The force of your unexpected hug causes him to stumble back a few steps, knocking a soft “Oof,” out of him.

His body freezes as you press up against him—you’ve never been this close before. A hand slides up his neck and into the hair at the base of his scalp—an automatic reaction, something you’re so used to doing with Tomura that it’s become second nature now. You don’t even realize you’re doing it.

But Dabi does.

Your touch burns, fingertips searing into his flesh in the most exquisite way, has him instantly craving more as his head droops just a little further, allowing you more access to move, your fingers instinctively combing through the soft, inky hair at the back of his skull. He wants to feel your touch all over his body, branded into his skin. Hours from now, he’ll still be able to feel it, still be able to feel the scorching warmth from your little hands scathing his flesh, still be able to feel your little fingers tangling in his hair.

Your sweet scent invades the space around him, overwhelms his senses, and he idly wonders if you taste as sweet as you smell, if the rest of your skin, your body, would feel as scalding as your hands do against his bare skin, if—

You squeeze yourself closer, body pressed flush against his, and his mind finally snaps into action, recovering from his initial shock and wrapping both arms around your waist, responding to your squeeze with one of his own.

“Thank you so much, Dabi,” you whisper, lips grazing his neck as you speak, an involuntary shiver coursing through his body. “I already love him,”

“Am I forgiven, princess?” his voice is low, rumbling in his chest and reverberating off of yours, chin resting atop your head.

A pause.

“Yeah,” you nod, eyelashes fluttering a little on his skin. “I—I’m sorry, too,”

“You don’t—”

“No,” you cut him off softly, and he can feel you nuzzling your face against him shyly, his arms squeezing you again in silent encouragement. “I overreacted. I just, um,” you stop, swallowing thickly as you struggle with the words. “I—We were making progress; or at least, I thought we were making progress—What I mean is, I just want t-to be friends with you,” you admit quietly, thankful that your face is buried in his chest, hiding your burning cheeks from his eyes.

He doesn’t respond—not with words, anyway. He doesn’t need to—his actions speak louder than words ever could. Lips press against the crown of your head, first gently, then firm, scattering a few kisses across your scalp.

The kitten knocks your pen off the island, it’s clattering against the hardwood startling the two of you, and you reluctantly break apart. He thinks it should be awkward—No, it should definitely be awkward, when he just dropped several unwarranted kisses to the crown of your head—but it isn’t. He waits for it to come, surprised when all that seems to remain is that same pleasant warmth as he watches you scold the kitten playfully, bending down to pick up the pen and gently tapping it against the kittens nose.

Your giggles, ringing out around the empty penthouse, are the most precious sounds he’s ever witnessed. Thoughts invade his mind, belatedly realizing that he’d do just about anything to hear you giggle like that again, soft and innocent and full of delight. The unfamiliar feeling of contentment settles in his chest, makes it swell so much it’s almost painful, thrumming through his veins and alighting his body.

Later, he’ll be pissed at himself for letting his guard down so easily, for completely losing control of his thoughts and actions, for becoming so fucking soft around you. But for now, he allows himself to bask in the feeling, just for a few moments before those heavy mahogany doors inevitably creak open.

“What should we name him?” your eyes are bright as you back at him, a cute excited smile on your face, lashes fluttering a little as you wait for his answer.

We. We.

And he hates the way his heart skips a beat at that one, tiny two letter word. He hates the way it makes his stomach swoop, makes more unknown feelings—sensations he’s never experienced before—explode in his chest, hates the way that stupid little word pulls a large, genuine smile from him entirely without his permission, a chuckle of disbelief passing through his lips.

We.

“I dunno, princess,” he responds gruffly, finally finding his voice.

“How about…” you stop, humming and closing an eye as you think, little tongue poking at your cheek in concentration.

Dabi isn’t sure he’s ever seen a more adorable sight in his entire life, and he has to physically restrain himself from marching right up to you and kissing you until you can’t fucking breathe, heels digging into the hardwood and hands curling into trembling fists as his body goes rigid.

“Isaac? Or, oh! Clarke?”

Isaac Asimov or Arthur C. Clarke, two of his favourite authors.

And, fuck, he can’t help the hearty laugh that bubbles up in his chest at the realization, pleasant tingles of warmth shooting through his veins again—more intensely this time, feeling like tiny shocks bursting throughout his body, his whole figure buzzing, high off your presence.

“Both are cute,”

“Yeah, but do you have a favourite?”

Later, he’ll lay awake in bed tonight, sheets cold and empty as he listens to the muffled sounds of Tomura’s ridiculously massive bed slamming against the wall while he forces the most beautiful sounds from your lips—later, Dabi will think about that sentence, those seven words, uttered so gently, so sincerely from your soft lips as you stared at him in earnest, genuinely interested in his answer. Later, he’ll think about why his opinion matters so much to you—if his opinion matters to you, or if he’s just desperately hoping it does, if he’s overthinking this entire situation, why the name of a dumb overpriced cat matters this much to him…

“I like Isaac,”

Your eyes soften, smile stretching even wider as your gaze flits to the tiny fluff ball now curled in your lap, small hand petting its head gently as it begins to fall asleep.

“Yeah,” you murmur, watching your hand’s rhythmic motions, the kitten beginning to purr loudly. “I like Isaac, too,”

Tomura reemerges then, both of your gazes snapping towards him. He observes the two of you, scarlet eyes slow and careful as they scan the situation, finally landing on the small ball of fur sleeping soundly on your thighs. There’s an odd look in his eyes—something you’ve never quite seen before, and it makes your heart drop.

“Look, Daddy,” you say softly, holding up the sleepy kitten to show him. “Dabi got me a kitty!”

The weird, undecipherable look on Tomura’s face evaporates in an instant as his eyes connect with yours, features softening.

“That’s great, baby,” he says as he walks towards you, coming to stand behind you and placing a large hand on your head. You hum a little, eyes closing at the contact. “Looks like we’ll have to go out tonight and get kitty supplies, huh,”

Eyes snapping open, your head falls back, resting against his stomach as you stare up at him. “Me and you? Just us?” he nods, and you gasp, face absolutely lighting up. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he laughs a little, fondness settling in his eyes as he gazes down at you. “I’ll pick you up after class today, and we’ll go straight away. We can’t let poor Isaac go hungry now, can we?” Ruby eyes flit up as he speaks, hardening as they connect with sapphire. He holds Dabi’s gaze until the other man nods his understanding.

You’re so excited you don’t even realize you never told Tomura the kitten’s name. But it doesn’t matter—not in that moment, anyway, not when he tells you he’s decided to take the rest of the day off after the lunch meeting, to spend it with his baby and his baby’s baby. Not when you haven’t had a night alone with him in what feels like forever.

Tomura should be happy that it all worked out, right? He should be glad that he doesn’t have to find other arrangements, should feel relieved that you and Dabi smoothed things over, shouldn’t he? He is, isn’t he?

“Go get your schoolbag, sweetheart,” he instructs softly, tapping you on the nose. “You’ll be late if you don’t leave soon,”

You obey immediately, slipping off the barstool with the kitten cradled in your arms, explaining that you’re going to quickly ‘kitten-proof’ Tomura’s absurdly large bathroom and lock Isaac in there. For his own safety while you’re away at school, you say.

He watches you go, waits for you to disappear around the corner, before turning back to his colleague.

“Really Dabi, a fucking cat?”

Dabi bristles, exhaling slowly as he holds his boss’s gaze, and raises his eyebrows. “But she’s happy, isn’t she?”

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #dabi #shigaraki tomura #bnha #mha #for my lil star anon!!! <3333 #i hope u like it!#tw daddy kink #i ??? guess???

667 notes · View notes

liibrii · 3 years ago

Text

Built for eternity

deity!Atsumu x gn!reader || crack/fluff || wc: 1.6k || 🦊

Synopsis: Once Atsumu was a great deity, equally loved and feared but after taking a very long nap he wakes up to a world that has forgotten him. Everyone but your group that’s digging up his old shrine. He's sure you'll be his new followers so why on Earth are you destroying his house?!

warnings: barely proofread, general stupidity, cursing, suggestive moments, archaeological mumbo jumbo, Atsumu is a god of something but it's vague and not really important, also gods exist and everybody is chill with that, reader is a very tired archaeologist and done with everybody’s shit

a/n: after 3 days of rain and 6 straight hours of shovelling dirt I had an epiphany. idk, it made me laugh so I decided to scribble it down. and yes, don’t mess with a profile unless you want archaeologists to hate you forever as always feedback is greatly appreciated!

Once Atsumu was a great deity with shrines and temples at every corner. Nowadays the only ones remembering him are obscure books only used for collecting dust. But that is about to change. Atsumu is sure of that.

Group of loyal followers has gathered where his shrine once stood, a small one, one he never really cared about but these days he'll take every crumb of adoration he can. And the crumbs are a plenty as the group digs up the shrine, excited about the pottery shards and walls coming to light.

They call themselves archaeo-something, architects probably since they will rebuild his power. Yes, excellent, it pleases him to see you all rejoice, taking pictures of everything, you will be his new followers and more will follow, he'll be a great deity again, equally loved and feared-

“Aright, take the wall out!“

Huh?

Why are ya destroyin’ his shrine?! No, no, no, stop breakin’ apart the walls! That was the inner altar, what are ya pigs doin’?!

Thunder rumbles and a downpour falls for days, and still those little crawly humans continue to destroy his shrine, his precious walls, and take away the last remains of old offerings. Oh he's going to have a word with all of you freakin' stumblin’ humans, ya better know yer damn places. But he'll start with the one in charge.

The excavation site is empty when he decides to approach you. You're shovelling away dirt, though you should've started with your shoes and clothes. You turn when you hear someone approach and your eyes widen, as they should, thinks Atsumu, at least someone 'round here should show him the respect he deserves, he's a god after-

“Hey! You're standing on my feature! Get off, shoo, shoo! And watch out for the profile! I just cleaned the damn thing. Excavation site is closed to the public Mister so I'll have to ask you to leave.“

Exca- what? Leave? It’s his shrine! Humans shouldn’t react to his presence the way you did, that's just, it's not what humans do!

“But I live here.“

“You-? Oh. You're still standing on my feature, get off already,“ you pull him off the patch of dark soil that to him looks the same as the patch where he's standing now.

“Why are ya destroyin' my shrine?“

You wipe away the sweat on your forehead, or maybe it's rain, with raindrops still falling he can't really tell. “We're not destroying anything, we're digging it up. Documenting it. It'll get destroyed once the apartment complex is build here. Come on, stay away from the profile!“

You return to scrapping the patch of dirt and Atsumu feels some very confusing mixture of rage that you, a lowly little human being, are talking to him like he's a nuisance, and being very pleased because when you lean down to scrap the soil he has an incredible view of your behind, and whew, that's a very nice ass. He shouldn't look, staring is rude, but what else is he supposed to look at, there's just soil, and holes dug into the ground, a weird green box atop a yellow tripod, a shovel, and some stones, one beside your left leg, such good looking legs indeed, there's a mud stain all over your ass-

No! You're tearing down the last remains of his shrine! “Human. I order ya to stop doin' what yer doin' and answer my questions!“

You glance over your shoulder. “Sure. I'll keep on working and you ask me what you want to know.“

Why are you so calm?! He's a deity, a god, you should be on your knees begging for your life to be spared, not scrapping the ground, oh holy bean sprouts and apples, why does your ass look so good? “Do ya know who I am?“

“The one of many names. The Twofaced god.“ You straighten up just to change gardening hoe for a shovel.

“Why aren't ya scared then?“

“I've met your kind before,“ you shovel the dirt onto a big pile a few steps away. “Though they usually don't go around destroying my surfaces. A clumsy god is a first. Oh, what's this? Pottery, nice,“ you mumble as you turn a small object covered with soil in your hand.

“Hey. Show me some respect or-“

“Or what? You’ll make it rain again? Joke's on you I've been soaked through and through for the last three days. Hand me the trowel?“

“Yer extremely impolite.“

To his utter surprise you burst into laughter. “Listen your holiness it's Friday afternoon, I’m tired, my clothes are completely wet, I'm cold, I have gravel in my shoes, my shoulders are killing me, and I'm more than ready to go home. But before that I have a feature to document. The one that you so kindly stepped in. Now, please show me your godly powers and hand me the trowel. The mini shovel. Red handle. No, left. Left. That's the one, thank you, what did I tell you, watch the profile man!“

Good grief, have humans always been so demanding?

“Will my shrine be rebuild?“

“If your shrine is an apartment complex, sure. Give it a few weeks and it will be good as new. Literally.“ When you see his face your expression softens a little. “No. It won’t be. We'll look at the remains to figure out when it was abandoned, what happened, that sort of thing.“

“But yer an architect. Architects build things.“ He heard people of your group call themselves that. They talked about how the walls had been built though he quickly stoped listening. “This shrine was built for eternity!“

“Archaeologist.“

“What?

“You meant I’m an archaeologist. Not architect. I don't plan buildings, I dig them up once their eternity passes.“

“It's eternity! It doesn't pass! Go dig somewhere else!“

You sigh. You look almost as exhausted as he did before taking his a few thousand years long nap. “Great, you're one of those people. Always complaining, why is it taking so long, why do you have to dig on my building site? Well mister it ain't my fault you decided to build atop of my neolithic settlement. Hey, grab the hoe.“

“The what?“

“The thing by your feet. No, that's a trowel. The one with the long handle. No, that’s a pickaxe, yes that's the one. See there? Your footprints. Clean them. Come on, don't just stand around and look pretty, get to hoeing.“

“Right here? Out in the open?“ He wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Yer an intriguin'-“

“Clean them away.“

Atsumu does as you say all while grinning. You're getting flustered. Humans and their brave facades, we'll see how long you manage to hold your own up.

“There.“ It only took four scraps to get rid of the footprints but Atsumu proclaims it so proudly he might as well just have dug up the entire excavation site on his own. “That was as easy-“ As he steps away ground under his foot crumbles and he hears your shocked shriek.

“My profile!“

Oh dear. The word he’d use to describe the look on your face when you see the collapsed pile of dirt beside the hole in the cross section would be heartbroken. Devastated. On verge of tears. Irritated. Angry. Enraged?

“What did I tell you?! I gave you one job, one job you clumsy wanna be deity! Oh fuck, come on, I’m to tired for this.“

“’m sorry,“ Atsumu mumbles. His ears are on fire.

“Yeah you better be. Shit, fuck, what am I supposed to do?“ You look at him the same way someone in a hurry looks at a doorknob when their jacket gets caught on it. “You. Here.“

“What's-“

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what a shovel is. You destroyed my profile. I'm very tired. I'm very angry. I don't care if you're a god or a plastic straw, right now you will help me fix it. Shovel straight down. I want a right angle.“

With his strength evening out the cross section proves to be no problem at all. He glances over at you, do you see what a good job he’s doing, maybe he messed up before but now he’s doing great, as you pay him no attention and write something on a small blackboard. A bunch of numbers and words. He recognises there's a date. What could the others mean? You lean down to reach for, oh that mud stain on your trousers is actually a hand print. You must've wiped your hand on your ass-

The shovel slips. Luckily you're too preoccupied with your camera to take notice of it.

“Are you done?“ you ask without looking up and he stutters out an 'almost' since he's almost sure it isn’t just the shovel that’s slipping. “Looks good.“ You say more to yourself than him.

He thinks you're pretty cute when you're not chewing him out for stepping onto that one patch of dirt. The way you lift the camera up and take photos of that patch of dirt is pretty cute too.

“Help me pack up,“ you say once you’re done. He doesn’t need to be told twice, already gathering your tools. “All things considered you weren’t so bad. Maybe you should consider becoming the god of archaeologists.“ Your smile is incredibly cute too. “Fancy a drink?“

#miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #hqcorenet #miya atsumu x y/n #atsumu x y/n #atsumu fluff #inarizaki x reader #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfic #I wrote this very quickly #but it made me laugh so many times #djasf I love Tsumu #libri scribbles

53 notes · View notes

ask-runaan-anything · 3 years ago

Note

do you have any stims? (like hand flapping, swaying, humming, etc)

What a lovely question. I have a few, little shadow, and I thank you for your welcoming gaze.

As you can imagine, I have been trained to tone down my external expressions of my inner feelings, especially ones that can feel strong. It's taken me some time to become comfortable with what is called stimming, and I didn't always know the word for it. I believed it was something I had to subdue, and that I just had stronger emotions than my peers. Truth be told, I do have strong emotions. And that's okay. Nobody should have to mask their true emotions, especially if it helps them process things.

At first, I didn't know that stims could be done out of joy. I'd often make myself clench my hands in distress whenever a particular sound or output stressed me before Lain caught on and told me that that could lead to more stress. He helped me learn that I can just walk away from whatever is bothering me instead of bracing myself through it. On the brighter side of things, before meeting Ethari, I still had things that have made me happy: Lachir, moonberry surprise, and rising through the ranks of assassin hood. But as I previously mentioned, I'd mask my true joy and subdue it to something smaller and more accepting. I beg of you to not follow my previous actions.

Nowadays I am more accepting of joyful things that make me stim. Lachir and moonberry surprise still do it for me, and I think Lachir can tell how happy she makes me, and she appears very proud because of it. Of course, Ethari makes me do all the stims as well. His beautiful music can make me hum softly along with it, and he always looks very accomplished when this happens. He has even been able to make a song purely based off which notes made me hum the heartiest, and it is a beautiful song indeed.

There's more than one reason why I wear gloves. Wielding a bow almost certainly requires one to wear gloves for stability and to keep one's hands free of scuffs and tears. However, I have become more comfortable navigating the world wearing my gloves because more often than not, different surfaces can begin to feel like too much, and I'd prefer to avoid them. Apart from this, I almost always have them off at home. The treehouse is safe and familiar, and I can trust it and the elves inside of it. Not only do I trust it to make me feel stable, but it can also create positive sensations. Tangling my hands in my own hair or Ethari's feels heavenly, and I could sit for hours doing so and feel perfectly content.

Dancing feels wonderful to my senses. Moving in such a fluid way with Ethari as my partner feels like utter bliss, and I enjoy every moment. The way he spins me gives me shivers and makes me feel like I'm among the stars, and I have to make sure to hold tight to him because of how engrossed I become. Sometimes he'll spin me and keep spinning until I give him the hand signal that I've had enough, and I'll nestle into the crook of his neck very appreciatively. I have the best husband.

Sometimes at night when he acts as my weighted blanket and drapes his weight across me, I can't help but let soft hums escape me, as I feel so delightfully comfortable and safe. The constant pressure feels utterly soothing, and paired with his soft voice in my ear, I quickly relax completely. On days when I'm out with Lachir, training or feeding her, sometimes she'll finally understand a tricky maneuver or do something extra endearing and I can't help but bounce on my toes in delight. She feels like a manifestation of all my hard work and my heart. It fills my soul.

Little shadow, I have many stims. I'm hardly ever comfortable displaying them in front of people who aren't my family, and I may never be. But what matters is my acceptance of the fact that I have them and that I've let a few select people see that side of me--open, emotional, and willing to take up space. I implore you to show who you truly are and what you truly feel in ways you feel comfortable, too.

#ask runaan #runaan answers #if you see a moonshadow mistake no you didn't #moonshadows don't make tech errors #surely not #stimming #lachir #ethari #elf husbands #ruthari

30 notes · View notes

maplecornia · 3 years ago

Text

chapter 22

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 4.36K

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: our first full introduction to all of BTS! I hope you're all excited ^^

Why did there have to be a meeting today of all days?

Yoongi scowls in the back of the car, trying his best to work on the small music app he’s downloaded for free on his phone. Letting out a small growl, he throws the phone aside, frustrated and annoyed.

“Absolute trash.” He snarls, staring ahead with nothing but malice in his eyes. The driver flinches a bit at the dark aura emanating from the back seat, and slowly rolls up the little partition glass that separates the two.

You know...just in case.

Yoongi notices the small act of distance and rolls his eyes, scoffing. He doesn't have to apologize. He can have a bad attitude if he wants. His schedule was supposed to be completely free today, a day where he could work on the album quietly. It was supposed to be a productive day, one where he could hole himself up in his studio and work and work until he made music that was perfect for their comeback.

Perfect for BTS.

Narrowing his eyes, he mutters a string of curse words under his breath for the 7th time that morning.

Then he got the call. That there was an urgent meeting for BTS to attend. A meeting that would affect the future of the company.

Running his hands through his hair, he tries to refrain himself from punching the car window out.

"What the hell is that even supposed to mean?!" He screams in aggravation, causing the driver on the other side of the partition to jump, startled. Not paying any mind to the driver currently struggling to restart his heart, Yoongi sighs, positioning himself on the seat so that he's comfortably lying down. Looking up at the ceiling with his soft, sparkling eyes, he tries to calm down. See things in a brighter light, try not to care so much. It's just...things are so frustrating to him.

All.

The.

Time.

Raising his hand to cover his eyes, he tries to remember a time when things had been so hard. He remembers training, debut, remembers the struggles of rising to the top, remembers injuries, exhaustion, remembers quarantine and tireless motivation…

Each moment seemed worse than the last. Every time they conquered a new struggle, another presented itself. As though they were walking down a road filled with multiple storms. A road that was destined to tear them apart, scatter them and leave them for dead.

Suga didn't think it would be so hard to leave. They were only gone for 2 years and yet by the time they got back it was almost as though the world had either forgotten about them, replaced them, or turned against them. Smiling bitterly, he raises his dark eyes to the ceiling once more, his hand curling into a fist at his side.

"You really fooled us didn't you...?" He mutters, his voice soft, but cold. Shivering with forgotten remorse. His hand rests itself safely over his eyes, shielding himself from the world. Trying so hard not to lose himself, he fights back the tears, barely able to struggle out the one word he's been holding back for so long.

"ARMY…"

Closing his eyes, he fails to catch one solo tear that falls, trailing a lonesome streak of wet painful memories across his soft ivory cheek.

He doesn’t remember the rest of the drive to the studio, choosing instead to block everything out and focus on releasing the dark cloud shrouding his mind. He’s learned how to deal with the pain, how to erase it, ease it safely and securely back into the inner corners of his mind...his heart. It's an endless procedure, falling and picking the pieces back up again. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times he may lock them away...they always come back, stronger and worse than before.

At least he’s learned to keep it inside.

At least he can safely hide.

And pretend everything is alright.

As the car pulls to a stop, Yoongi seriously considers skipping the meeting and staying home. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel like crap. Maybe then he’ll be able to forget...at least for a while. However, as soon as the car pulls up, the driver immediately opens the door and cuts the ignition. Yoongi groans from the back seat, glaring up at the ceiling just as his driver opens his door, and nervously waits for him to exit.

Muttering under his breath about how some people are such pussies nowadays, Yoongi reluctantly sits up, gathers his things and exits the car. Paying no mind to the nervous driver, he stares up at his company building. His face hidden in a shadow, he bites his bottom lip, his hand clenching around the strap to his backpack.

Since when has he regretted coming here?

Since when was he afraid to see what may lie on the other side?

Shaking his head free of such thoughts, he groans, the dark cloud surrounding him only growing. Today’s just a bad day, he really needs to pull himself together. Sighing, he rubs his hand over his face before heading towards the building. Each step seems to weigh him down, blur the world around him, bring him further and further into his mind.

A dark mess of music notes and compositions.

Of torrents of pain and broken promises.

Of hidden fears and memories.

The mind of a man past his breaking point.

But then he hears the voice.

“Yoongi!”

Just as he’s opening the door to the building, it calls out from right behind him. That one voice...that one sweet cacophony holding brotherhood and love, is enough to draw him back to reality. It’s enough to break the hold the darkness had had on him. Smiling softly to himself, he turns and meets his eyes with a soft steady look of his own.

“Hoseok.”

Jhope smiles broadly at the mention of his name, and finishes running across the distance to his hyung. Clapping his hand around his shoulder he chuckles a bit as they walk together inside. Yoongi smiles at him a bit, but looks away before Jhope could notice.

If he was being honest, any one of his members have the same effect on him. Every one of them...the hidden parts to the family they have struggled so hard to build...they make everything okay. They make everything worth it.

If Yoongi were to suffer…

Then it would be okay.

As long as it was all for them.

“Hyung, why do you think PD-nim wanted us here this early?” Hoseok asks, breaking his hold on his friend in order to stretch as he yawns. Yoongi doesn’t answer, brooding a bit over how his work got interrupted once more. First it was Namjoon, over a stupid assistant, now its Bang Sihyuk?

“Whatever it is, I hope he has a good reason for interrupting me.” Yoongi mutters darkly under his breath, startling Jhope a bit. Jhope flinches, and noticing the change in Yoongi’s mood, steps away a small distance, chuckling nervously.

“Were you working on something important?” he asks as they walk inside the elevator, headed to the office on the top floor. Yoongi scoffs as he presses the button and the elevator doors close.

“I sure hope it was. It was for our new album, which is due no less than a few months from now! Namjoon and I still haven’t even gotten the beat down for the title track...and now this?! What could possibly be more important?” Yoongi sighs, collapsing against the cool metal walls against the elevator. Cold and indifferent, he stares at his warped expression in them, wondering if that’s enough to protect himself.

But...

What does he need to protect himself from?

Jhope regards Suga with a soft look, almost pitiful. He’s found that when he gets like this, sometimes it’s just best to leave him be, to let him work it out on his own. But right now…

Is this really the best way to solve things?

The look on Yoongi’s face is familiar, and yet different from all those times before.

Hoseok finds that he can't read it, he doesn’t recognize it. Something about that…

Scares him.

As the elevator dings, and Yoongi immediately steps out into the hallway, it takes Jhope a moment to follow suit. Silent, he watches the back of Yoongi, trying hard to understand him, figure out what’s going on with him. It frustrates him that right now, when he needs him most is when Jhope has no idea how to help him.

Can he help him?

Biting the inside of his cheek, he looks at his feet as they make their way to the meeting room. He knows that ever since they were separated, ever since the military enlistment, no one has been the same. Once beloved by the world, they found themselves facing the fear of being forgotten. Of entering a world where no one cares about who you are...only how strong you can be. An honorable service, but a taxing one, something that would change a person.

And so it has changed Bangtan.

For Yoongi, it drove him further into himself. Into the depression of darkness he had tried so hard to avoid. Without his sources of light, without that grasp on hope he had before...he found everything fading away. He found himself fading away.

How easy is it to find yourself again?

How easy is it to turn everything back to how it was before?

For anyone who knows...it’s near impossible.

So he’s trying, he’s trying his hardest to turn it into something that he can live with. Into a strength he can look back on and say he grew from. Another obstacle that he has defeated in his pathetic excuse he calls a life…

But what can he do right now?

Except fall deeper and deeper into the darkness which becomes so alluring to him. He finds himself longing for it, he finds himself wishing to end it...because what is he fighting for anyway? He already reached the top...and now he has to make his way back up again? What is that supposed to mean to him? How is he supposed to deal with that?

They said they would stay with them.

They said they would wait for them.

But they lied.

They moved on, they forgot.

Was everything they ever did…

Did everything mean nothing to them?

Entering the meeting room the pair of them are greeted by noise. The familiar noise of joy and laughter Bangtan carries with them everywhere, just happy being with the other...no matter how many hardships they may face nor how much the darkness may cloud each of their minds...as long as they're together, nothing else matters. Yoongi can’t help it…

He smiles.

It happens on its own accord, without warning. It's just...seeing them, seeing how happy they are despite everything makes him feel a bit of happiness, a little ray of joy, a little speck of pride and amongst them all he finds what he’s been looking for all along.

Hope.

The one thing stronger than his fear.

“Yoongi! And Hobi hyung! You guys made it!” Jimin practically barrels into Yoongi as Jhope closes the door behind the two of them. Laughing like a maniac, Jimin squeezes Suga so tightly that it's hard for him to pry him off.

“Seriously Jimin, you saw me just yesterday, you act as though it’s been years.” Suga sighs, placing his backpack in one of the many chairs in the meeting room as Jimin pouts. Jhope chuckles at his expression, rubbing his hair affectionately before following suit.

“It feels like it’s been years! Have you forgotten that we only got back a few weeks ago? I’ve missed our hugs--” Yoongi places his hand expertly on Jimin’s face, stopping him as he moves in for another hug. Growling, Jimin gives him a glare and Suga raises his eyebrow.

“What was our deal about hugs?” Jimin pulls away at the ultimatum and dramatically deflates into the chair next to Yoongi as he sarcastically recites the “deal”, deepening his voice and flattening it as much as he can in order to match Suga’s.

“One free hug a day...any other extra will cost you.” While Suga rolls his eyes, he can’t help but crack a smile as everyone else in the room laughs along and Jimin sits up in the chair, chuckling to himself at his great impersonation. Well...great in his eyes. Shaking his head, Yoongi looks around at the room, smiling at the familiar faces he finds meeting his own.

There’s Jin, who hasn’t stopped laughing, his unique laughter carrying through the room, half hurting everyone’s ears, and half bringing them joy and happiness. Yoongi always forgets that it’s actually possible to miss that strange windshield laugh.

There’s Taehyung who sits next to Jin and rolls his eyes a bit at how hard he’s laughing, before chuckling softly to himself in quiet happiness. Yoongi still can’t believe that there was ever a time he didn’t cherish Tae as much as he does now.

There’s Hobi who has just settled into a chair right next to Yoongi and laughs that contagious laugh that strikes hope and joy into even the darkest of hearts. Suga still remembers when that laugh first entered his life.

There’s Jimin who has just tackled Suga into another hug before dancing away and laughing almost manically. Yoongi lets him off the hook, smiling softly to himself because if he were being really honest...he would want those hugs every day of his life.

Then there’s Namjoon, the one who watches over them all, a small but distant smile present on his face. As Yoongi raises his eyes to him, he can’t help but feel a bit of nostalgia.

His first friend.

His best friend.

Perhaps the only one who could understand him and yet…

He always seems so far away.

Namjoon, as though feeling Suga’s gaze on him, slowly flickers his eyes over to him and is startled by what he finds.

He sees the darkness shrouding his dear friend's mind. He sees the cry for help. His heart pounding with worry and trepidation, he bravely meets Suga’s deep conflicted eyes and tries to pick them apart, solve them as though they were a problem only he could untangle. He hasn’t seen this face for so long, he hasn’t seen this kind of fear in his friend before. His chest constricting, he almost wants to hold onto Yoongi and hold him tight in his arms until he makes everything better.

As though it were his job to make everything better.

His brow crinkling with concern, he opens his mouth in order to address him, but an outburst from Taehyung who is looking out into the hallway cuts him off and the connection is broken. Yoongi almost immediately looks away, leaving Namjoon to continue to stare at him, in deep thought.

"Where's Jungkookie? Why is he so late?" Tae is asking as he leans back in his chair to stare out the see-through glass that encases them inside the meeting room. Jimin, coming up behind Tae, almost makes him fall as he pushes the chair down so that Tae meets his eye.

"Wha…" Taehyung begins but Jimin cuts him off.

"That's rich coming from you Mr. MickeyD." Jimin snorts at the reference to the soaked bags Tae brought as a peace offering yesterday, before letting go of his chair and leaving Taehyung to teeter slowly to a stop. Jin, picking up on the let's tease Taehyung memo nods and leans forward in his chair as though invested in the conversation.

"Yeah, where were you yesterday? You took an hour to get here TaeTae…" he coos, reaching forward to touch his hand but Tae pulls away grimacing. Jin laughs before pulling away and Namjoon rolls his eyes, ignoring the small smirk growing on his face.

"Stop it guys, he was helping Yen, my new assistant manager." Namjoon explains as he pulls out his phone to check any new notifications. "She fell during the afternoon rush in the lobby yesterday and hurt her ankle. Tae was helping her to the hospital. That's why she's not coming in today."

At that comment, Jimin's face goes a bit cold, and he glances at Tae in the corner of his eye. Tae nods frantically in agreement to Namjoon's statement almost as if he were clearing his name, and Jimin can't help but feel a pang of disappointment.

Tae used to tell him everything…

So why does Namjoon know this and he doesn't?

It wasn't that hard to explain...he would have understood...so why?

Why couldn't Taehyung talk to him instead of having to turn to RM?

Tae swallows hard to see if they all believe him, his heart pounding a bit fiercely in his chest. That was partly the truth...but Namjoon doesn't know the whole story. Nervously glancing at Namjoon in the corner of his eye, he can't help but fidget a bit.

The only way he was able to keep Yen home was to get the all clear from RM. And in order to do that...he had to tell him that you were hurt. And so that's exactly what he did...it just wasn't entirely the truth.

Looking down at his hands, he holds them tightly, faintly remembering how your hands felt in them. If he told Namjoon about what happened, who knows what he would have thought? Besides, Taehyung doesn’t want to tell anyone about that day. He doesn’t know why, he has nothing to hide but…

It's almost as if he mentions it to someone else…

It’ll become theirs and not his.

“In any case, we’ve been waiting long enough...where’s BangPD anyway?” Suga wonders quietly, not bothering to hide the frustration in his tone.

“Good morning to you too, Yoongi.” At the voice, the 6 of them freeze, and slowly turn toward the door, which was closed once before, but now occupies three significant figures. Suga tries hard not to wince, but as he meets BangPD’s dark eyes, he can’t help it. The other members seem to shrink due to the tension rising in the room as the door closes behind the newcomers. This isn’t exactly a situation they would like to be present for.

“Jungkook!” Jhope cries as he scans the three faces, and sure enough there he is standing attentively behind BangPD. He smiles a bit as Jhope calls his name, and waves to them but when BangPD walks into the room, Jungkook follows closely behind. The third figure, a tall and slender woman, closes the door behind them.

Namjoon glances towards her a bit curiously, trying to place where he may have seen her before. As she sits in a chair near to the door, a reasonable distance from the rest of the others, she glances towards him as well. As their eyes meet, Namjoon barely has time to notice the small flecks of gold circling in her brown eyes before she looks quickly away. Raising his eyebrow, he shrugs before turning to BangPD who is setting down a few papers and documents in the head chair of the meeting room.

“Sir, what exactly is going on? Why did you ask Jungkook to text us all to meet here? Is it something to do with the album?” BangPD smiles at Namjoon’s quick wit as the rest of the members glance at each other a bit confused. He’s the only one who figured out that BangPD was the one behind that strange text last night. Sitting down, BangPD meets Namjoon’s stern but curious eyes, trying to pick apart the complexity hidden behind their depths.

“The reason is simple. We needed to confer with you 7 as shareholders in the company.” Taehyung sits up from his once relaxed position at the sentence, turning attentively towards BangPD-nim. He glances toward Jungkook to try and read his expression, but Jungkoook avoids his gaze. What exactly are the two of them planning?

BangPD nods to the woman sitting attentively in the back and she nods back, pulling out a computer and walking to the head of the table. She opens it and begins connecting it to the stereo system. Yoongi crinkles his brow at the curious setup. Once the woman is finished, she nods toward BangPD before heading back to her seat next to the door.

“Before we can do that however...there’s something you need to hear.”

With that, BangPD presses play and once more...your voice fills the room.

It instills a hush over each of them. Each one of them, even the woman in the back, is visibly affected by the emotion in your voice. The soulful pain that you carry through each note you sing takes them to a world which only they can see; drives them to emotions they have never felt before.

Jin goes completely still, trying his hardest to hold back the tears which are threatening to spill over and wet his cheeks. He wants to hurt whoever made you feel this way. Whoever made you sing like this...as though you were crying out for help.

Jhope’s expression is blank, completely out of character for him. But he can't help it. At the sound of your voice, he is unable to keep the mask up for any longer. It falls, shows everything underneath, shows what he really hides behind his smile. He can hardly feel it as the single tear runs down his cheek.

It takes all Jimin has not to break down into tears right then and there. He stares at the computer as though that would help him reach you. Help him to erase the pain that has affected you deep inside. As though he could erase in you what he could never erase in himself.

Yoongi has closed his eyes, leaning his head back in the chair he sits in. As though if he were to open them, the voice would disappear and the beauty he sees behind his eyes would go with it. As though it's the only anchor keeping him from completely fading away.

Namjoon finds himself searching through his mind, trying to figure out where he’s heard this voice before. Where he’s felt this kind of pain, this deep level of sadness and insecurity. Trying to remember why he can find some familiarity in it. Why he feels as though he’s home and safe.

Taehyung is petrified. He’s heard this voice before. He has it saved safely in his pocket at this very moment. He helped the owner of this voice home the other day. He can still feel her touch on his skin.

Frantically, he glances toward Jungkook once more. How was he able to get this recording? Was he there? And if he was…

Then was that moment Taehyung shared, that one break in time where he could only see you, that one moment where he knew, he just knew that you were perhaps the only one who could truly understand him…

When he couldn’t understand himself…

Did it mean nothing at all?

Jungkook smiles to himself now as he sees the room which is alight with your voice. As he sees the way they change, the way they are affected, how it seems as though they have been healed with the sound, the beautiful world which your voice brings to each one of them. When he sees the way your voice alights in them a new fire, a new flame unable to be doused, he sees the true purpose behind your voice behind you.

A light that was meant to be shared.

As the song ends, though he’s sad to see it go, this time he’s sure that he’ll hear it again.

That he’ll hear you again.

In the silence, the ones who remain have a hard time coming back to themselves. It's as though they are wandering in the dark, now that the world they were able to see has disappeared. Almost as though they had forgotten how to live, how to breathe without that utopia in their mind.

But the main thing is that suddenly, all at once…

They felt as though they had been healed.

Even if it was only for a moment.

“Her name is Yen.” BangPD’s voice breaks through the fragile silence, catching everyone’s attention, including Jungkook. Clearing his throat, Bang Sihyuk opens your file, passing it forward on the table. Everyone is able to see your ID picture, where you were born, your current number, your family members, your current address...even your social security number. It’s all there, for each of them to see and to immediately know…

“She has recently been hired as Namjoon’s assistant in Jaejin’s absence.” BangPD explains, but this is something they already know. They share a look with each other, recognizing that this is the same girl who brought a smile on their face yesterday.

“Now that you have heard her voice, let’s get down to business.”

The same girl who was hours late for her first day.

“The real reason I called you all here is because we need to make a decision.”

The same girl who turned Namjoon into a frantic mess.

“A choice that may make or break this company.”

The same girl who turned Jungkook into a dumbstruck teenage boy.

“A choice that involves this voice, that involves Yen.”

The same girl who helped Taehyung find himself...even for a little while.

“As shareholders for this company this affects each and every one of you.”

Though the rest may not have met you...they all saw the picture.

“I called you here today to ask you…”

They saw in you the same charming girl that everyone else had seen throughout the day.

“If the 7 of you would agree to signing this girl on as a trainee for our company.”

The one behind this voice.

Is the same girl who tried to stuff an entire bowl of salad in her face.

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: crazy crazy

chapter 23 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

47 notes · View notes

rhydium · 4 years ago

Text

fuck it starfinite drabble

its 12pm n i haven't slept, @ the two (2) other fans of these dumbasses come get yall juice ig ???? played around w/ a concept i had n figured i'll just ... post it. why not. this takes place in my android infinite au, pre-relationship!! u don't rly need context other than that tbh ((but feel free to ask me abt it i will gladly infodump))

cw: loss of limb (infinite's arm; it gets reattached), references to blood n stuff in the context of intrusive thoughts. please lmk if i need more!!

"what on earth were you thinking?" starline near shouts, his voice exasperated, shaky with adrenaline. he's angry and he's afraid and it's, it's stupid, really, he can fix this, but his hands tremble as he rummages through his toolbox, eyes darting over to infinite; missing their right arm, wires sparking, broken and it's sickening. he has to look away again. breathe.

"you can't keep... you — you're being too reckless!"

"i don't have much other choice." infinite says, so simply, so infuriatingly calm, so calm, such disregard for the fact they just had a limb blown off.

starline finds the last screwdriver he needs, but continues to sift around, poking and prodding and inspecting wrenches as if he's still looking for something. if he stops that means having to face this and he isn't ready — he needs to, but he can't.

"why?" he asks, ignoring the way his voice cracks, swallows the dry lump in his throat, "why, infinite?"

"is it really not obvious?"

starline grits his teeth, squeezes his eyes shut. his hands grip the edge of the box. "no!! it isn't!"

"i can be repaired. rebuilt. you can't. it's not that complicated. if one of us gets hit then logically it should be me."

his chest seizes as the words sink in, sink through his skin and down, down, down into his stomach like a stone; his gut churns and twists with guilt.

no... no, that's —

"that's stupid!" starline hisses. that self-sacrificing, idiotic...!

he whips around, locking eyes with infinite, don't look at their arm, don't look at it, don't look at the socket.

"don't speak like that. ever again."

whether it's his expression, his tone, infinite seems taken aback, almost appearing to flinch. they stare at him, frowning, though in a way more indicative of confusion than anger.

"like what?"

"like you're disposable!!"

...fuck.

there's a long moment of silence after starline's outburst. he pulls in a deep breath, pinches the bridge of his bill, averting his eyes to the floor, anywhere else, anywhere but infinite. he thinks about apologising — he shouldn't have yelled like that — but infinite is, this can't continue, they're being nonsensical, they keep endangering themselves, it can't.

"i... you just don't get it, do you?" he murmurs, shaking his head, running a hand through his hair. a small, strained laugh escapes his throat, voice thin. "do you have any idea how it makes me feel, watching you get hurt like this?? throwing yourself around like some kind of — like a living shield??"

he's not going to cry. starline is not about to cry.

"you... could have died." infinite says quietly. "all those times, and today, if i hadn't stepped in — for you those blows would have been life changing, if not fucking fatal. do you know how that makes me feel, star?! i can't let that happen. it's so easy to just, imagine you laying there, not moving, the blood, and..." their fingers — god, the ones they still have — twitch restlessly. infinite picks at their claws.

starline can hardly restrain the choked noise that fights its way out of him.

they're doing this for him, to protect him, this is all his —

"it's not your fault." infinite speaks firmly, as if sensing his thought process. "but objectively..." they wave a hand, sighing, "you know? this doesn't even hurt me."

"it hurts me." starline exhales through his nose wearily. "emotionally."

"i'd rather you be a bit emotionally distressed than dead," infinite scoffs softly, "let me repeat; the damage i take isn't permanent or painful. you, on the other hand, are one accident from being... i don't even want to imagine it."

"then what am i supposed to do?!"

"be more careful and i won't have to get involved." infinite shrugs.

starline groans.

"why does it bother you so much?"

"are you kidding?!"

the lack of response would point toward no, apparently.

"because i care about you, you absolute fool!"

infinite falters for a moment.

"...but. i'm not in pain. i can be fixed. what are you afraid of?"

starline gazes at them wordlessly.

i'm afraid one day i won't be able to fix you.

i'm afraid i'm going to lose you.

i'm terrified of losing you because i love you but you don't know that and you can't know that.

"...star?"

"i — look, forget it. i just, i don't want to talk about this anymore, i need to repair your arm."

"you're hiding something."

"aren't you perceptive..." starline can't help but mutter.

"are you okay?"

does it look like it?

"i'm fine."

"could at least put a little effort into it if you're going to lie." infinite mumbles.

"would you just...!" starline takes a deep breath. "be quiet. please."

infinite briefly opens their mouth as if preparing to protest, but ultimately falls silent. they look away, absently staring off at the far window.

starline grabs his tools. he just... has to focus on work. this will probably take a while, he realises. it's easily the most damage infinite has ever taken — at least during their time with him. he's worked with robotics a long time, but infinite is a highly advanced android, and they require extra care, presicion.

infinite's shoulder sparks again. they don't react.

"...you really don't feel anything, do you?"

infinite raises a brow.

oh. right. i told them not to talk.

they shake their head, and starline nods, uttering a quiet "sorry."

no reply.

"can i... start the repair?"

"...you're not just going to go ahead and do it?"

"no. never. listen, i've made habit of asking for your consent and i have no intention of breaking it. it's your body."

"...i don't mind."

"alright."

starline supresses a sigh and begins to tackle the rather daunting task of fixing up and reattaching infinite's lost arm, which has been laying motionless on the table for the past ten minutes. despite the lack of blood, absence of stench, as would be had if infinite was organic, it's still disturbing somehow. he shivers at the thought of dealing with dismembered flesh, of muscle and bone, and finds himself suddenly a lot more appreciative that infinite is an artificial being.

despite the knowledge infinite can't actually feel any of what he's doing, starline proceeds slowly, gently. regardless of whether they can feel it, their body deserves to be treated with respect. he fiddles with their wires delicately between his fingers, turns bolts and adjusts joints with only as much firmness as necessary, apologises when he has to snap certain supports back into place. now and then, he glances at infinite, who looks oddly tense, contemplative... uncertain.

"are you... uncomfortable?"

"what...? no, i... i told you i can't feel it, didn't i?" they say distantly.

"well — yes, but, what about mentally? are you alright...? do you want me to stop? i'm sorry that these procedures are so... invasive, and it probably, after —"

— no, no, what are you doing don't bring that up —

"...ah. nevermind."

infinite blinks, as if processing his words, and then their expression shifts in understanding.

"you're fine. i mean, this is.... i'm fine." they affirm.

"...okay."

"i mean it. it's... you're nothing like him."

there was once a time starline would have found such a statement insulting. nowadays, he can't be more relieved infinite thinks as such. he adjusts his glasses and continues tinkering away, figuring he won't get much else out of them, at least for now. whatever is on their mind, he'll let it be. the rest of the repair goes smoothly, time passing in a silence that is isn't uncomfortable, nor fully comfortable. he can't help but feel bad about the... was it an argument? he isn't sure, really. maybe that's what infinite was thinking about...?

as he wraps things up, closing the last panel on their forearm and preparing to request that infinite run through a few tests to make sure everything is working correctly, they finally speak; though it isn't anything starline was expecting them to say.

"you could destroy me," infinite utters softly, and they just kind of... look at him, something in their eyes that starline can't put a name to. "if you wanted to. you could rip me apart from the inside."

"i... guess i could." starline murmurs, his fingers lightly trailing over the panel, hidden beneath infinite's fur, the only sign of its existence being several small ridges and the bump of a screw head. "does that scare you?"

infinite smiles. "it's terrifying." they reply. "to allow myself to be so vulnerable... to — to want to let my guard down."

starline blinks in surprise.

to want to...? they want to let me in?

"then why...?" he tilts his head curiously. his hand stills, but lingers where it is.

infinite shrugs loosely. "it's you."

oh.

starline, don't you even think about it, that isn't what they mean...!

he clears his throat awkwardly.

"er... is that... supposed to explain it?"

"it's all i've got." infinite replies. the small quirk of their lips broadens a bit, and they chuckle. "sorry."

...starline finds himself smiling back.

god, he's tired, the past hour has been immeasurably draining, but... this, this makes it all worth it. seeing them like that... it lifts all the stress, the anxiety. he feels lighter.

"thank you."

"huh?"

"for trusting me. i know it... must take a lot."

infinite shifts their hand — the one that hadn't been damaged — and hesitantly, very slowly reaches over. they look between starline's hand still resting on their inner arm, just above the wrist, starline's eyes, his hand again, and starline goes to withdraw — but before he can do so, infinite places their own over it.

"thank you." they whisper. "for treating me kindly. for treating me like... a person."

starline's breath catches in his throat. oh god, he cannot mess this up. infinite never — they never initiate contact like this, ever. he can't scare them away, he knows it's difficult for them to be touched, let alone how much faith they're showing in him to touch, and he will not squander all their progress. nothing will ruin this moment.

"you are one."

"...i care about you too, star."

"i — what?"

"you said earlier that you cared about me. i care about you too," they elaborate, a flicker in their eyes, this time something starline recognises, as quickly as it's hidden again; fondness. a very specific kind of fondness that... no — he isn't sure if he's imagining this or not. he has to be. surely, he's making it up. wishful thinking, seeing what one wants to.

"...a lot. more than you know." infinite finishes.

starline gazes into their eyes steadily, searching, trying to find it again. infinite stares back, almost like they're looking for something, too. oh, how easy it would be; to lean down, move in, to kiss them, but starline is not going there. he has no confirmation infinite likes him like, well, that and, it would be far too fast even if they did. not to mention he certainly wouldn't do it without asking.

"...you're hiding something too, aren't you?" starline settles for asking vaguely.

infinite's eyes widen slightly, then glitter mysteriously, amused.

"aren't you perceptive?"

#jackal.txt #my writing #can u tell i had no idea where i was going w/ this or how to end it lmfao #infinite the jackal #dr starline #starfinite #edited as of 24/02 to remove the term crippled and reword infinite's dialogue regarding fear of star becoming disabled #i had no idea crippled can be taken as a slur and i also don't want this to come from a perspective that sounds like being disabled would be #the worst most tragic horrible thing. rather infinite just does not want star to wind up hurt!! bc of course you'd never want someone tht #you love to go through that. i really hope i articulated this properly and i apologise if it was insensitive and poor taste

68 notes · View notes

spectrumed · 3 years ago

Text

1. piano

The brain is a musical instrument. How it sounds all depends on who is playing it. The keys, the strings, the tubes, the circuits, none of them make noise on their own. Some may argue (some very aggressively) that every instrument has one exact way that it should be played. That there is one correct way to play the piano, and then there’s several incorrect (deviant!) ways to play the piano. But a classically trained pianist will not play the piano in quite the same way as a self-taught jazz pianist will play the piano. Sure, the latter does employ some stylings unique to them. They have an idiosyncratic way of playing that makes their sound highly notable, possibly even sought after. While the former, the classically trained musician, they’ve been taught to minimise many of those quirky individual traits that could, potentially, distract from the classical compositions that they will be playing. In jazz, music is carried by unique characters and a strong sense of individualism. In classical, music is carried by tradition, norm, and history.

It should not be understood that the classically trained musician plays without soul or passion. While we, in the western world, have become more and more infatuated with the idea of the self-made artist, the amateur who makes their way to success and stardom solely through will, and quite often a manic compulsion to create, there is no wrong way to play an instrument. However you make it work, whatever sounds you are able to produce, you are playing that instrument. You are channeling your inner essence into the music you are performing, no matter what genre you belong to. No-one plays their instrument the exact same way, for certain, but everyone is playing with what they’ve got.

How do you think? You’re used to being asked “what do you think?” But how do you think? Do you see pictures in your head? Do you experience an inner monologue? Are you riddled with anxiety? Have you ever hallucinated? Do you think that you think good, or do you think that you think bad? If we return to our metaphor of the brain as a musical instrument, what sort of music do you think you’d play? Sure, there’s the classical world, and the jazz world, but of course, that’s hardly the music most people will listen to nowadays. Do you think in pop songs? Or do you think in big heavy metal epics? Or maybe what you are is a maniac for dance music. You may find like-minded friends who like the same kind of music as you do. I think that there is a correlation between what music we like and how we perceive the world. Does listening to a certain song send you back? Does a certain tune evoke memories that you may have thought were long since gone? I know that there are some folks out there who say that they do not care much for music, and while I don’t doubt that they absolutely do feel that way, I can personally not imagine where I’d be without my trusty set of headphones and my phone loaded up with a wide library of music I like. It seems to me that music is primal. Almost as if only by understanding music, can one come to understand consciousness. To nab a song title from Jethro Tull (the band, not the agriculturalist,) life is a long song.

But I do admit that I come from a biased perspective. Music means much to me. I’m no musician, but I think that partly stems from a desire to not see “how the sausage is made.” I’d like to be able to listen to a composition without feeling compelled to analyse it, or to study it. I’d rather eat the sausage without having to wonder what bits of the animals this meat came from. Is that the taste of a spleen or a testicle? There are plenty of other things in life to dissect and tear apart just to examine. Perhaps what I wish is to maintain an arcane approach to music. Perhaps I am too enamoured by the idea of the musician as a mystic able to tap into an elevated state of being, some spiritual realm divorced from our own. That look on the guitarist’s face when they successfully manages to convey just the right emotional tone perfectly with that solo. The frisson you feel when the song reaches its climax. That thing we call the sublime. To explain it, well, it simply feels like you are making something splendid mundane. It seems to rob it of its power. Or… Well, maybe that’s not it all. Maybe all I want is just a moment or two when I can relax and avoid thinking about things. For a moment, I’d just like to forget that I’m a person.

The world is so loud. Really, I can guarantee you that if you didn’t have those natural mental filters that we all have, you’d go insane. Every little sound. Every little bit of stimuli. It would all overwhelm you. It would burrow deep into your consciousness, and it would refuse to leave. Ever tried to fall asleep while hearing the dripping water from a leaky tap? Drip, drip, drip. Know how impossible that feels? Well, imagine if you had that feeling always, imagine if all noise felt that visceral and in-your-face. Lucky you’ve got those filters. Turns out, not everyone has them. I don’t. It fucking sucks.

Music is lovely, because music is organised. It has structure. You can listen to a song, remember it, and then follow along as you’re listening to it a second time. Music follows a pattern. There is a logic to patterns. But the everyday noises that surround us do not follow a pattern. Let me tell you, birds are infuriating animals. Sure, their individual little songs can be nice to listen to, but when all the birds of the forest come together, they don’t perform as an orchestra. No, they’re all just doing their own solo piece, completely oblivious to the sounds going on around them. I’m thinking that nature could have done well with a conductor. Someone competent to create order. To make it all just that bit more peaceful. I don’t have those filters others take for granted. I can’t ignore sounds. And that makes the world feel so loud.

It is neat to imagine the human brain as a musical instrument. You can imagine that seasoned player, that old session stalwart who’s played on all the most famous pop hits throughout the decades, and you want to imagine them playing with grace and finesse and showcasing all the amazing sounds that the instrument can produce. But the brain isn’t really some marvel of biological engineering. It’s not intelligently designed. It’s actually just a piece of meat hiding underneath layers of bone, skin, and hair. It’s a complex bit of meat, admittedly. It’s hard to understand exactly how the brain does work. But if you were to open up a person’s cranium, rather than feeling awe, you’d most likely feel grossed out. This thing that we’re supposed to think of as a miraculous product of millennia of evolutionary progress, it looks… Well, it looks awfully pinkish, and wrinkly, and frankly unpleasant.

We’re all mortal beings, made from squishy flesh and blood, scraped together from all that was available at the time. Sure, we may dream and fantasise about one day achieving those heights we aspire towards, to become that perfect superman, whose cognitive abilities put them on par with the mythological titans of the past. But really, we’re all just trying to do our best with what we’ve got. You may not be able to play the finest of Mozart’s many symphonies, the instrument that you’ve been given just simply isn’t up to snuff. Even if all you can play is Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, that shouldn’t weigh on your value as a human being. And besides, that’s still Mozart you’re playing.

I will undoubtedly get back to discussing music in later instalments of this blog. It is truly a major part of my world, and without the joys I associate with it, I would be in a far worse place. But I think that, ultimately, what I wish to arrive at, is the fact that our sensory perceptions have a significant impact on how we piece together our sense of self. While it may be an unnerving thought to consider, what would happen to our understanding of ourselves if we one day were to lose one of our major senses? I am sure that many people could go without their sense of smell. Humans have long since abandoned smell as a dominant sense. To a dog, on the other hand, to lose its sense of smell would be devastating. It would lose part of what it means to be a dog. For humans, we enjoy the scent of freshly baked bread, the whiff of somebody’s perfume, or the bouquet of some pricey bottle of wine. But that’s nothing to what dogs get out of their sense of smell. To a dog, its sense of smell is its world. Is a dog even a dog if it can’t sniff around? Do you think dogs ever take their sense of smell for granted?

I do not think that humans are what we eat, but I suspect that we may be what we perceive. Our consciousness does not exist independently of the world that surrounds it, but rather, it is formed by the outside stimuli it receives on a constant basis. The fury of noises, lights, smells, all kinds of impressions, it shapes you. It is what our memories are built on. I am not at all certain that there exists anything more to the mind beyond that. I doubt that we’ve got some immutable soul hidden underneath it all. Humans are the collection of thoughts and ideas that we’ve attached ourselves to throughout our lives, and naturally, if you’re neurodivergent, that process is going to happen differently to most. At times those differences will be large enough that it can create real conflicts with those others around you. Effectively, to be neurodivergent is to suffer constantly from culture shocks. To me, it is natural to loathe the cacophony of birds in the summer. Their screams feel like piercing needles embedding themselves into my skin. But I try telling that to others, and I’ve yet to find anybody who agrees with me.

So, am I just wrong? Am I mistaken? Am I a freak? Why can’t I just be like everybody else? Why must I be such a buzzkill? I can’t even enjoy birdsong, I really must be a pain to be around. How did it come about that I just can’t be normal? Normal. I want to be normal. It is and it will likely always be grossly underrated to just be normal. Normal people don’t know how good they have it. They’re just too normal to be able to perceive it. When you’ve never been without it, you don’t know what it is to miss it. Normalcy. Having a normal brain. Having others see you as a normal person. Only if you didn’t have it, would you know how great it is. Do you sometimes wonder if dogs know how much they’d miss their sense of smell if they ever were to lose it?

Then again, there is no such thing as normal, is there? If you were to take the world’s most average person, then that person would be abnormal. To be a person is to be unique. We’re all special snowflakes. Aren’t we?

You may not play your instrument in a conventional manner, but who’s to say what manner counts as conventional? It’s all just so arbitrary. Who’s to say you can’t play an acoustic guitar as a drum? Who’s to say you can’t treat your piano as a percussion instrument? Smack your cello with a flute, if you’d like. Isn’t it just delightful when you see a unique performer who is able to play their instrument in a way you could never before have conceived it being played? The novelty of it all. The absolute joy of being exposed to something different. Of seeing something that can barely be believed. You love things that are unusual, and you think people who are different should delight in being different. Surely, it is better than being normal and boring?

But is it all that bad to be boring? And you may love what’s different, but when it comes down to it, despite your positive inclination, you still perceive it as being the other. It is not you. It is not mainstream, it is underground. Secluded. Deviant. Those who truly do struggle to fit in with society, to be just like everybody else, they are constantly faced with these little reminders that they just don’t belong. They are humans (at least they think they are humans,) but they’re not like other humans they know. For as much as they get told that they should embrace their quirky nature as simply being who they are, it is hard to know what it is like to be not normal, when all you’ve ever been is normal. Sure, for a performance or two, it’s fun. It’s fun to get the attention, to be seen as having something others don’t have. But then, at the end of the day, all you want is to be able to fall asleep, without the birdsong outside your window keeping you awake.

#neurodiversity #neurodivergent #autism spectrum disorder #autism #aspergers #mental health

11 notes · View notes

thewritepages · 3 years ago

Text

The Diary of the Older Collegiate (#TheFreshman Series) (1)

Synopsis : Annabelle Green is somewhat in a situation no thirty year woman would want to find herself in : (Un) Happily divorced, childless and with a job worth peanuts and migraine. The downward spiral of her life doesn't seem to end anytime soon until her sister reminds her of her most cherished dream.

College.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

MAY 3, 2019

3.30 A.M.

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

I hate myself.

No, really. I may have called it once or twice in the past due to mild anger or frustration, but this.

This is real.

I mean, I may be the only person who would:

A) Cry over a failed marriage during an interview

B) Scratch that, cry over a failed marriage in midst of the most IMPORTANT interview in my entire career!

C) Go straight to the pub later to drown my sorrows when I know perfectly well what would happen if I do get drunk.

D) Do what would be obvious to a broken-hearted, career destroyed, thirty year old drunk woman: Leave a string of carefully selected profanities on the voice mail of my beloved ex-husband.

E) Waking up several hours later on the side of god-knows-what street staring in horror at the drunken messages I've sent to everyone in my cell's contact list- which would also include my parents.

And to think of it, I managed it all in little less than 12 hours last night.

I think I'll just dig a burrow in my apartment and never come out of it. Wait a minute...

That's it! I'm never leaving my apartment again. It'll be perfect- I'll take up one of those work-at-home jobs they always advertise on the internet, eat ramen noodles for sustenance and stay protected from the world outside throughout my life.

In fact, I'll tip off my doorman to tell my family that I've left to pursue my inner self and I may never come back again. As many years pass by, my family would mourn over my presumed death while I get a plastic surgery done and change my name to something untraceable like Ronal Wallis.

Oh, jolly good! A brilliant idea. Why didn't I ever think of this before?

MAY 3, 2019.

13.30 P.M.

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

Err; maybe the whole change-my-identity-and-live-happily plan didn't exactly work.

Don't get me wrong, it didn't totally blow up or anything. My doorman, Steve did his job perfectly, informing my sister that I have indeed joined Deepak Chopra on a journey to find myself in a tiny village in the Himalayan Valleys. He narrated the story in such a sober tone that even I found myself believing him for a moment.

But Steve and I didn't realize that in order to leave the country, I would actually need my passport- The passport which is still in my ex-husband's apartment along with the rest of the stuff I was going to pick up this week.

Unfortunately, my sister was very much aware of this piece of information.

"Anna, it's been two months. You've got to get your shit together. You cannot stay dep-" I gave my sister a warning glance.

Not the D-word. Definitely not the D-word.

"I'm completely fine."I mumbled, looking down at the dregs of my empty coffee mug.

"No, you're not completely fine Annabelle Green. You've stopped calling, stop visiting all of us. Hell, nowadays you don't even get your ass out of the bed. Now, I know what Luc-"she stopped short, taking in my pained expression.

Another word I do not want to hear – Luc- Lucas.

Lucas .Lucas. Lucas.

"I'm sorry," Kat, my sister, bowed her head down low. "I shouldn't have brought him up."

"Yeah, you shouldn't have." My eyes closed from exhaustion. "Kat, why are you here?"

"Well, last night you-"

"I KNOW. It was a mistake. And I think I sent an explanatory text earlier this morning."

"That won't stop me from checking up on you, Anna. I'm bloody worried about you."

My eyes descend down to her enormous belly. She shouldn't worry about me right now- I'm not the one who is due for two bouncing baby boys in less than two months.

Did I just say bouncing? Oh, Lord.

"How're the boys kickin'?" I pat her belly gently, forcing myself to smile.

Her face instantly relaxes. "Oh, they're kickin', all right," she smiles at me, "Didn't give me a wink of sleep last week."

Well, that makes the two of us.

"I can't wait for little John and Paul to meet their ol' Aunt Anna." At least this was true. The arrival of my twin nephews is the only thing keeping me up for the past couple of months.

"Anna, we have talked about this. I'm not naming the kids after The Beatles."

"Why not? I recommend you have another set of twin boys so we'll have the entire boy band in our family."

"And have four crazy boys running around the household? No thanks. Phil and I would probably die of insanity."

Sigh. Phil and Kat. Their story is the closest you'd ever get to a fairytale- childhood sweethearts; they were two young teenagers wildly in love but were painfully separated to colleges at the opposite ends of the country. When it looked like it was truly over between them, they reconciled during the summer after college. It was literally The Notebook all over again, leaving out all the letter writing and the crazy house building. I don't think Phil is capable of fixing a broken lock, let alone build an entire house.

Suddenly, I felt someone holding my hand tightly. I look up to see Kat's eyes filled with tears. "Annie, come home. Mum and Dad miss you. I miss you. We want to stay with you in these difficult times. A few days away from Seattle will do you good. "She gets up. "Mum, Dad and Phil are waiting for us in the car downstairs. I'll help you pack up."

My heart softens, but I raise my eyebrows in sarcasm. "So, they sent you to emotionally blackmail me, right? Well, it's working, Mommy –in-waiting."

She tweaks my nose playfully. "It always does, baby sis."

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

A/N :

Hi there, thank you for taking the time to read my new diary styled new ChickLit series:

"The Diaries of an Older Collegiate"(#TheFreshman).

If this chapter ignited an interest for this series, please let me by reblogging or sending me a message. I'm very new to Tumblr writing so it'll really help me calm my nerves :")

Lastly, I'm tagging a few lovely authors here whose works I've been binge reading and they've really inspired me to put out my work out here. Authors, if you like this chapter, I'd be very grateful if you could share it among your network and let me know :)))))

@go1denjeon, @ladyartemesia,@noteguk,@junghelioseok

#ihopethisgoesok #chicklit #teenagers #young adult #writers on tumblr #womenwritingfiction #fiction #funnyshit #college life #university #holy heck

7 notes · View notes

moskaisley · 4 years ago

Text

ransom

pairing: fennec shand x female!reader oneshot

rating: NC-17!!! 18+ it ain’t a suggestion

word count: 2.3k

warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT!!! graphic depictions of oral sex and a lil bit of bondage, canon typical violence, fluff n the smallest bit of angst

a/n:

the lack of fennec shand content is SAD so here i am indulging in a character we knew for like 5 minutes. id go to war for ming na wen and i can’t wait to see her again in s2 🥺🥺

also yes fennekin is a pokemon, yes i want that to be her nickname, i will NOT be taking questions.

summary:

“You had a bad habit of sneaking away from your family’s dull estate whenever unsupervised, and a corrupted senator’s daughter is always an easy target with a high price.”

in which you fall for your bodyguard and get kidnapped to get her attention.

ao3 link

“You guys haven’t done this before, have you?”

“Be quiet!”

You roll your eyes and lean back into your chair, wrists tied to the armrests. Crossing your legs, you lazily watch your captors pace around the room with a bored expression on your face. This wasn’t the first time you’d been snatched away and put up for ransom. You had a bad habit of sneaking away from your family’s dull estate whenever unsupervised, and a corrupted senator’s daughter is always an easy target with a high price. In the beginning, there was only a mild concern for your life, but your lust for life outside of your grand home kept you slipping away. When your father realized how expensive it was to keep paying for your ransom, he hired all kinds of professionally trained security guards to accompany you at all times. It didn’t work. Each time, they’d grow sick of your antics and quit. Every guard that left your father’s employment fueled your ego and there was a strange power trip in seeing hardened men and women bested by an impulsive, slippery little girl. It wasn’t until your father completely lost it and hired the best money could buy, delving deep into his connections to the criminal underbelly.

She was good, too–impervious to your little games and annoying prodding. It was the first time you’d been so safe in months. If you were being completely honest, you only got yourself kidnapped nowadays to spice up the routine.

Speaking of kidnapping, these guys were total amateurs; they didn’t even have proper binders so they bound your wrists with rope instead. They didn’t bother bagging you when they tossed you into their speeder, giving you plenty of time to memorize their faces(not that you even needed to, they’d be dead by the time you were saved.) Their holovid to be sent to your family was the same tired spiel of “give us the money or the girl gets it.” Not compelling in the slightest. You were slightly impressed by their asking price, however; it was higher than most. None of it mattered, though. You won’t be here much longer.

After all, your security detail was impeccable.

“Do you plan on taking me to a second location at all?” you ask.

The pantoran shoots you a quizzical look with his golden eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

You roll your eyes again, letting out an exasperated, dramatic sigh.

“Normally, you take the hostage to a second location to keep people off your scent.”

The group looks at you, wildly confused as to why their prisoner is so nonchalant to give them a critique on their kidnapping skills. They then look at each other as if to say, “should we be doing that?”

A devaronian, probably the leader of this ragtag group, quickly stands up to stand before you.

“I thought I told you to be quiet, little girl.”

“I will hand it to you, though. It’s good that you chose a place with no windows,” You continue, completely ignoring his orders, “My security guard is an incredible shot.”

Slap!

Your cheek stings in pain from his strike.

Finally, something interesting.

“No one’s coming for you. You’re stuck with us until your bastard father coughs up our money,” he growls.

You only laugh, enraging him further, “It’s true that my father’s a bastard, but you’re not getting out of here with any money. And it seems–”

The sounds of struggling and shots echo from behind the door, interrupting you. You smirk.

“You’re not getting out of here with your life either.”

As if she was waiting for your cue, your savior bursts through the door, blasters at attention at the group encircling the room. You perk up in your seat.

“Fennekin! You made it!” you cheerily greet, cutting through the tense standoff before you.

She chides you for the nickname.

“Not while I’m working, sweetheart.”

She fires with deadly precision and blaster shots go off chaotically around the room. In a matter of minutes, all five of your captors are splayed knocked out on the ground, and your bodyguard is kneeling in front of you to meet your eyes. She pulls off her helmet, braid falling to her shoulders. Her gloved hand gently nursing your irritated cheek.

“You didn’t kill them?” You ask her, confused.

“Your father would rather have them arrested. Better poll ratings,” she answers, “He’ll be angry with you again, you know.”

“He’ll get over it.”

“Must you always cause so much trouble?”

You pout your lips, “If I don’t, then you won’t pay attention to me.”

Your savior laughs lightly and stands to her full height. She bends over, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You’re giddy at the feeling of her lips, and your body suddenly goes warm in adoration.

At first, Fennec Shand was just another bodyguard to irritate until she got sick of your tricks and quit. But her patience knew no bounds. You’d be bold enough to say that it amused her, as if watching a child play soldier. And it infuriated you. She never raised her voice with you, even if she’d rescued you from danger or caught you sneaking out countless times. You saw it all as a challenge, a little game to get her to snap, to rile her up, anything . Soon enough, you were desperate for her attention in any form, pressing her with question upon question and learning about the life of a galaxy-class assassin. Each time, she’d answer with the same cool and collected tone she’d reserved only for you.

“Fennekin.”

You couldn’t tell if she hated the nickname. If she did, she never said so.

“Hm?”

“How many planets have you been to?” You ask her one night. During one of your father’s campaign galas, you’d taken the chance to slip onto the balcony, feeling the cool breeze graze your shoulders.

“I don’t know,” she replies politely, “I’ve lost track.”

Naturally, your incessant prodding led Fennec to ask questions of her own, a far cry from your previous bodyguards who only regarded you as a spoiled rich girl with daddy issues. (You were, but that wasn’t the point.) It was comforting to have someone to confide in, to express your frustration at the fact that Fennec had been to countless planets while you’d lived your entire life on a single one. There was so much more that you could be doing with your life than playing the proper, dutiful daughter to a government official. You were grateful that she’d listened to you at all.

It was only a matter of time before you started falling in love with the smoothness of her voice and the relaxed half-smile that graced her lips whenever she was around. And so, you began to flirt with her, cooing praises and taking every opportunity to brush against her and feel her touch. But Fennec still maintained her composure, politely declining your advances in the interest of professionalism. Until one day, you caught her fervent gaze as she watched you float around the halls of your estate in one of your expensive silk dresses and a mischievous glint in your eye. It set your pride on fire to know that she wanted you too.

“Fennec,” you breathed. In your boldness, you’d pressed yourself against her and cupped the sides of her face. Her hands caressed your wrists, rubbing her thumbs against her palms.

You’re obsessed with the way she says your name.

“We shouldn’t do this. Your father will have my head.”

“Who said we have to tell him?”

You met her lips gently, testing the waters and half-expecting her to pull away. But to your absolute delight, Fennec’s hands quickly met your waist, pulling you closer and deeper. Your relationship now consisted of secret kisses in empty hallways, late night escapades in your bedroom, knowing glances from across the room during audiences with your father.

Some things never changed, though.

“We should get going,” she says, going into unbind your wrists.

A delicious idea pops into your head seeing Fennec before you. You gently kick your foot into her knee, effectively stopping her in her tracks.

“Wait.”

Fennec stills and a languid smile spreads along your pretty lips as you uncross your legs, crudely spreading them apart so she stands in between you. Her eyes darken, and she regards you with a piercing stare.

“No. Not here.”

You look up at her with pleading eyes.

“You’ve been so busy. We’re never alone anymore.”

She says your name in warning.

“Fennec, please. I’ve missed you.”

She tilts her head at you and sighs, dropping to her knees. She all but rips off her gloves, throwing them to the floor with an unceremonious flop. Your heart quickens in pace as her hands travel up your legs. She pushes the hem of your dress past your knees and high up your thighs, revealing your soaking underwear. You gasp as a finger traces up your slip, hooking at your waistband.

“ So needy … Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes. Please,” you beg. You’re burning up, desperate to feel her. She pulls at your panties, sliding them down your legs and slipping them into her pocket. Your cunt is dripping in arousal, and you shudder at the sudden exposure to the cold. She grasps at your hips, and presses a kiss to your inner thighs. Your heart races at the fact that you’re bound to your seat and completely at her mercy, unable to pull her closer.

“Did you miss me, princess?”

Warmth blooms at your core at the feeling of her hot breath between your legs. You’re dizzy, all rational thought escaping you. She bites down at the soft skin.

“Answer me.”

“Yes! Fennec, I missed you so much,” you whimpered, “Need your mouth on me.”

She hums in pleasure, and presses soft pecks against your thighs until her lips finally meet your pussy. Her tongue travels up your folds and you nearly scream in bliss. Fennec’s hands grip and grab at your soft skin, lifting to take hold of your breasts. Her thumbs run themselves over your nipples, already pebbling through the thin silk of your dress.

You whine as she pulls away, straightening up on her knees and tracing the contours of your neck and jaw with deft fingers. Her thumb stops over the center of your lips.

“Suck.”

You obey and take it into your wet mouth, savouring the taste of leather and blaster powder. When she removes her finger, Fennec immediately presses it against your clit. You throw your head back in delight, pushing your ass out in your seat to get a better angle. Fennec’s lips find their way back to your pussy, expertly kissing and sucking at your folds.

Your body tenses. The knot in your stomach coils and winds so tight you feel like you’re going to burst. Fennec only continues rubbing circles into your clit.

“You gonna cum for me, my girl?”

“M-Maker, Fennec, I’m so close” you sob.

You feel her smile against your pussy, “Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum all over my mouth.” She sucks at your folds again and you completely lose it. The feeling of relief washes over you in waves, drowning you in ecstasy and warmth. You’re electric under her; she’s the only one to ever make you feel this way. The only one who could make you beg. You’d bleed for her. It was then, in that dingy musty basement with no windows, you realized–

“Shit, I think I’m in love with you.”

It comes out as barely a whisper, spoken into the void in between your laboured breathing. But she hears you because she always hears you, hangs onto your every word uttered through your lips. Her stare freezes on you for a moment in shock, but then she smiles fully, beaming at you from her place on the floor. Taking your face into her hands, she kisses you harder than she ever has before.

“I love you, too.”

“I’ve had it up to here with your attitude, young lady!”

Your father drones on angrily, but you’re not even listening. A stupid, lovesick smile has been planted on your face ever since the basement. Your gaze darts over to your bodyguard leaning against the wall directly behind him. She meets your eyes and chuckles under her breath, shaking her head.

Your father barks at you, “Do you realize our reputa– Are you even listening? Pay atten–”

“Daddy, can we talk about this tomorrow?” you ask, lazily pressing the back of your hand to feign fatigue, “I’m so tired. Being kidnapped takes a lot out of you, y’know?”

He huffs through his nose, tapping his foot against the pristine marble floor.

“Fine,” he relents, pointing up, “Fennec, see to it that actually makes it to her room. We need to make sure she’s not slipping away before your departure.”

“Right away, sir.”

Departure? She pushes off the wall and stands at attention. As your father turns his back, you shoot her a look of confusion. Her eyes nod upwards, and you both ascend the grand staircase in silence. In your room, you stand in front of the open doors to your balcony, curtains swaying softly under the blue moonlight.

“How long will you be gone?”

“A month, at most,” she replies, “I’m off to Tatooine on some business.”

You turn to face her, snaking your arms around her neck and hands softly tracing over her braid.

“Do you need to leave right away?”

Her lips curl into a loving smile.

“No, I don’t.”

“Stay with me tonight?”

“Of course.”

The two of you laid together in your large, fluffy bed, curled up into the curves of each other’s bodies and basking in their warmth. Fennec pressed kisses into your temple while you were encircled around her waist.

“Fennekin?”

“Hm?”

“Come back to me, okay?”

Come back to me and steal me away.

thanks for reading! see u space cowboys <3

taglist

@tiffdawg , @bella-ciaao , @thesefleshfailures

#fennec shand #fennec shand x reader #the mandalorian #fennec shand/reader #I JUST WANNA GET MY BOX ATE BY ONE (1) FENNEC SHAND #its 3am goodnight gamers

146 notes · View notes

subbe93 · 3 years ago

Text

This took more time than I thought, but hey, I'm ready! So thank you @meitanteisachi tagging me, it means so much to me <3

1. Why did you choose your url? Umm, well… I don’t know? xD I didn’t have any other ideas at that time :D

2. Any side blogs? Nope

3. How long have you been on tumblr? I have no idea, but my first post was from September 2016. So at least since then :D Though I remember that there was a long time when I just lurked, I don't really remember when I made my account, and sadly I didn't find any info about it.

4. Do you have a queue tag? No, I don’t

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place? Well, I have always wanted to belong somewhere, have a friend who likes the same things as I do, because I have so many thoughts, but I don't have anyone to share them with. I found Tumblr, I kinda like it, so in 2016 I wanted to try to get along with the Avengers fandom. Well, I didn't do a very good job with that, so I gave up and started to lurk again. But then I found Detective Conan and again, I didn’t have any friends who would know it or even wanted to talk about it, so I was alone again. So in Tumblr, I found DC fandom and ShinRan shippers and I thought that maybe I should try to get active as a follower and that way make some friends. Yet someone (yeah, the same person who tagged me <3 ) told me to post my ShinRan headcanons, so… here we are, I think? :D Well, I admit that I haven’t done a very good job with my blog, but I kinda want to be more active. I just… I don't know, maybe I should try to find more courage to post some headcanons and try to write more fics (though I have written some fics for ShinRan week, so hopefully there is something you like to read :3 )

6 . Why did you choose your icon/pfp? Well, I remember how much I loved that smiling Conan from the beginning of the series <3 He got so excited to search that treasure after cracking that code :3 Art is also somehow so cute. Don’t get me wrong, I also love the new style, but there is something with those round faces and all… Somehow Ran and Shinichi look younger at the beginning of the manga/anime than with nowadays style… They look more like adults. Probably it's just me, but I also like that idea x)

7. Why did you choose your header? Oh, I just took a photo of a cherry tree that grows on the inner court of our apartment building, and at that time I just didn’t know what to do with my blog, though I still wanted it to look nice, so I made it to my header (though when I last night looked at it from the computer, it looked terrible xD)... Kinda want to change it, but I don't know which would be the new one.

8. What's your post with the most notes? Well, it is this one. Have to admit, I was a little surprised to see it, but I'm also happy about it. In the end, Shinichi is pretty cute when he can't take his eyes away from Ran :3 And the other reason is that it did its job like I hoped <3

9. How many mutuals do you have? Four, basically five (because they follow me and I follow their side blogs x) )

10. How many followers do you have? 66. And I want to thank you all for following my blog <3 I hope that I got myself more active and be worthy of your follow :)

11. How many people do you follow? 91

12. Have you ever made a shitpost? No

13. How often do you use tumblr each day? It depends... At least every morning and evening I scroll over my dashboard, but somedays when I'm bored, I can spend much more time here.

14. Did you ever have a fight/argument with another blog once? Who won? Nope, and I hope that I don't even have to. I don't like to fight or have arguments because I have heard my parents do that much more than I care to remember, so hopefully, we can talk peacefully here and respects everyone's opinions :)

15. How do you feel about "you need to reblog this" posts? Once upon a time, I share some of those, but not a long time and probably not gonna do it. I have been thinking that I want to concentrate on ShinRan on my blog.

16. Do you like tag games? Yeah, they are fun to do, and it makes me feel like I have made a friend :)

17. Do you like ask games? Well, yeah, I think so… Not sure if I have ever done any ask games, but it’s somehow always fun to answer some questions.

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is [tumblr] famous? I respect all my mutuals, but truth to be told, I don't think any of them famous. This sounds so wrong, but the truth is that they don't give me the feeling that I couldn't just go and talk to them. To me, they feel like normal people who have done much work for their blogs and got many followers and all - and they deserve them. But that's why I like them and follow them! They don't behave like they would be above others. Of course, I have been happy to see that they have started to follow me, but I'm also been very happy with every follower who has shown any interest in my posts. Because to me, that means that there are people who also love (in this case) ShinRan and everyone has welcomed me to be part of the "community" :3 I really hope that this doesn't sound too disrespectful...

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual? No.

20. Tags: I kinda want to tag someone, but I don't really know who, so I do this: I tag you ;)

#Tagging game #Something about Subbe #... Yay? xD

4 notes · View notes

chimswae · 4 years ago

Text

BTS Caretaker CH21

Summary: She may think she has Bangtan Sonyeondan wrapped around her fingers. She may think it is easy to love the members equally without hurting any soul. She may think the boys wont fall head over heels for her. She assumes it is okay to show a little love and affection towards the boys, what if she gets it all wrong? What if it only brings more complication to her already complicated life? Can she survive their charms? Will she be able to resist them? What if they just wont let her go?

- Pairing: BTS x Oc ( Yoongi x OC, Jungkook x OC)

- Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Romance, Idol!au

- Word Count: 6, 707

- Author Note: I missed the date of posting new chapter again, okay so caught up with work :< aish, but it is okay i am updating now!

Previous | Next

Chapter 21

It was a long silence between them, neither the boys nor Seul dared to utter anything. To begin with, what was they supposed to say at first place. The Jungkook and Seul relationship or Jimin’s sudden outburst. As much as they wanted to bring Yoongi’s side of the story into the picture, they thought it was out of context. Yoongi’s issues had nothing to do with them, yet one of the reasons that trigger Jimin’s anger was related to Yoongi after all.

For once Namjoon had never feel burdened with the responsibility as the leader of BTS until today. Firstly, he had to unravel the tense between Jungkook, Jimin and Seul. The atmosphere between the four walls were suffocating him, and he could tell everyone felt the same. He held his breath for a long time before exhaling a deep sigh garnering everyone’s eyes on him “Alright. Let’s get thing straight” glancing at the maknae whom sat across him. Seul felt her heart being torn apart from this impromptu confrontation. To be frank, she was not ready to be questioned this way especially when it came to her and Jungkook status.

“Jung, is there something going on between you and Seul?” Namjoon probed. Gulping away her nervousness, Seul was being surrounded by a group of man who appeared to be very protective over the youngest member of their group. Yoongi looked like he was ready to swing his baseball bat and beat some shit outta Jungkook and Jimin. His eyes never left Seul ever since the scene at her workplace. Not that he cared, yet it was bothersome to be remembered by it. Learning the truth behind Jungkook’s disappearance at night stung his heart even more.

Jungkook is one step ahead him. Yoongi groaned in frustration.

Jungkook stammered “Seul and I…We became friends because I am their frequent customer there. I spent my time there to draw” he pressed his palms together searching for strength to face his members’ wrath.

“You become friends and as far as I am concern friends don’t kiss, that is too affectionate. What is the meaning behind those kiss? ” Jin leaned his back on the seat, tilting his head to take a good look of Seul expression. Now that they had came to this, he feared to hear the truth.

Jungkook and Seul relationship would be the beginning or the end of him.

Chewing her chapped lips, Seul fingers fidgeted unconsciously at the end of her pink sweater. Her rapid breathing was drawing Hoseok attention who appeared to sit just beside her, he leaned over whispering softly “Are you okay Seul? You don’t look good” his voice was as soft as his sunny smile. It managed to calm her down a little.

She nodded, squishing her eyes tight for a moment before opened it again only to be welcomed by Hoseok’s round eyes “I can manage this, thank you Hoseok” she flashed a weak smile. He returned to his seat with a small smile and gave his attention on Jungkook and Namjoon.

“What I know it was not a mistake. Those kisses are real. I…like Seul” Jungkook’s confession earned different reaction from the floor. Some were scoffing away, some were too dumbfounded to even react, and some were stayed frozen in their seat shooting Jungkook a judgemental look. That was not definitely in their dictionary. What changed Jungkook to be this confident and super determined of his own feelings?

Jungkook’s eyes met Seul confused one, making Jimin rolled his eyes in his seat. Salty Park Jimin about to open his mouth to say something, but his fellow 95 liner friend already jumped in “Do you see her as a woman, Jungkook? Someone that you wish to own” upon hearing Taehyung’s last word, Seul blushed madly. The thought of being owned by someone never occurred to her some more, the person is a member from famous idols of the century. Crazy as it sound Seul couldn’t stop her heart from making weird noise inside.

They only needed one nod from Jungkook to confirm everything, so they could make sense out from this situation. Jungkook had never been so open to them when it came to his own feelings. To witness the younger guy being bluntly honest about his inner feeling gave some sense of relief to the hyungs. Over the years Jungkook was known to be very introvert and he did not talk to strangers unless he felt comfortable with them. Jungkook had few friends in the industry like GOT7’s Yugyeom and Seventeen’s Mingyu yet it did not stop him to get out from his comfort zone. Part of them were grateful of his feeling for Seul, it was a good start for Jungkook to be more open to other options in life. However, it also worrisome considering it involved commitment and serious relationship.

Each of the members had a mixed feeling about this Jungkook liking Seul thing. To break it down, Namjoon main concerned was whether this relationship Jungkook plan to have with Seul is healthy. After his failed relationship with Hyemi, he did not want others to experience the pain of losing someone whom he thought important in life only to be left hanging without words. Not to mention as a leader and a brother of Jungkook, he did not want Jungkook to get hurt. Relationship involved commitment, was Jungkook ready to carry the burden on his shoulder?

Kim Seokjin. He was neutral. People couldn’t read through him as he always appears optimistic and positive to everyone. Internally he’s suffering from the confession. He did show his interest on Seul because their friendship started off pretty normal that involved no fight. Nowadays, Seokjin enjoyed Seul’s presence around him apart from his 92-line squad and his game squad, Jin had Seul to listen the worries that he had whenever he couldn’t talk it out with his members or other friends. Seul is a good listener. As he learnt that one of the members revealed his feeling openly to Seul, was this a sign to back off before things got complicated later on?

When it came to Hoseok, this was his second-time meeting Seul so he did not have any issues with her. He knew Seul was a nice girl and worth to be loved by many. She deserved all the love from the world. If there’s one thing that bothered Hoseok would be her genuine intention in befriending them. Not that Hoseok wanted to question her integrity, but the world is a scary place. They could not just bluntly trust people that they barely knew especially Seul. Even though she’s a daughter of Mrs Hwang their original caretaker whom treated them like their own son these past few years, they shouldn’t depend on that one factor only. It was a matter of fact that people could be toxic without they realized, just like Son Hyemi.

Sitting with his mouth sealed tight on the armrest was Taehyung. His expression did not give away any worries or emotions pertaining to this issue, but he still found it a little over the top for his sane mind to comprehend. Without doubt, he was attracted of Seul at first place became the reason why he snapped her picture and kept it on his night stand. That small crush that he had for Seul was still unclear, it needed to be shaped. Considering things had changed now, would it be better for him to eradicate this small crush he had for Seul before it became contagious to his heart? He did not want any heartbreak in the future wasn’t he.

Jimin on the other hand looked distressed in his seat. His protective instinct for Jungkook earlier on was soon replaced by annoyance. Annoyance of his own discomfort to the idea of there was another guy liking Seul and it happened to be Jungkook. The only difference between them, Jungkook had guts to sort his feeling out when he didn’t. That Jimin saw Seul more than just a friend was evident. But he refused to conform to the reality of life. It was a reticent, very private feeling which he had no intention to reveal just yet.

Yoongi was complicating things around him and his true feelings that he had for Seul. Everyone could literally see how possessive he was over Seul, yet he denied that fact at all cost. The fact that he used revenge to steal kisses from Seul, Yoongi was actually trying to confirm his own feeling. At first, he assumed it was a mere admiration towards Seul’s sassiness however it turned into something deeper not long after. He was dragging himself down into the deepest pit of the dark hole in his heart. Wanting to escape, yet he failed. As a result, Yoongi came out pretty hard and aggressive on Seul even though he wasn’t intended to hurt her. It came out neutral because he was not ready to embrace the truth. The truth might hit him a little hard on his face, so Yoongi was afraid to take the risk. With this Jungkook thing, Yoongi realized he must do something about this before too late.

“So, answer him, do you see Seul as a woman or is it a mere admiration?” Jin broke the long silence desperate to hear the answer though he’s not really keen of listening to it.

Nodding with a soft sigh “I see her as a woman and I like her because she is Seul” that was enough to melt Seul’s heart again as blush crept up warming her cheeks. Why was she being weak again? Now since they had settled with Jungkook, seven pair of eyes landed on her. She was in deep shit.

“Seul, do you know Jungkook is Jungkook?” the leader raised his eyebrow in question.

“No, I don’t. He was wearing mask 24/7 how do you expect me to notice that is him?” her voice broke a little due to the intensity that she felt inside her.

Jimin found the chance to butt in with a sarcastic remark “Funny thing is, you are a fan. How can you not know Jungkook even from his eyes?” he glowered.

Seul looked so piss as she glared at Jimin “Funny thing, I am not Jungkook’s fan. Neither of you are my favourite. How do you expect me to remember your eyes when I messed up your faces and names” the corner of Yoongi’s lips were tugged into a smirk. Ji Seul makes a comeback, as expected. He complimented in his head admiring her sassiness.

Pursing his lips sulkily, Jimin shook his head giving up on his argument with Seul already. She was impossible to beat especially when it involved to defending herself. Seul always know what to say.

Namjoon continued “Alright. You have no idea it is Jungkook, so you befriend him. Both of you become friend and Jungkook apparently reveal his feelings for you. How about your feelings? Do you like Jungkook that way?” upon hearing that question, Seul turned pale.

Taehyung scrutinized her expression with so much interest trying to read through her but to no avail. Would it be possible that she did not see Jungkook more than a friend? A spark of hope lightens his heart a little. Taehyung was up for any possibility.

“I repeat, do you like Jungkook more than just a friend?” Namjoon pressed. He was acting like a father-in-law making other cringe in their seat. Yoongi small eyes were watching Seul every little move, causing her to shift uncomfortably under his hard gaze. This did not work at all. She did not have the answers with her. Everything happened too fast.

Seul heaved a heavy sigh “I don’t know. I am not sure. My feelings for Jungkook are still ambiguous, I can’t exactly tell whether it is more than just a friend. It is still too early to decide it, I am sorry Jungkook” she threw an apologetic look at Jungkook.

He felt a heavy tug on his heart, but he managed to pull a soft smile on his face “Don’t be sorry Seul. I told you I don’t want to push you, we can still work on this” Seul bit her lower lips, lowering her gaze shyly. Jungkook would not give up on his feeling for Seul that easily. It took a lot of courage to embrace this new side of him, to give up on it just like that would be a waste.

“Someone got friend zoned” Hoseok joked to light up the mood.

“I AM NOT-“ “SHE ISNT-“ they were surprised to see Jungkook and Seul perfect timing. Seul’s cheeks turned into fifty shades of red realizing she was indirectly admitting to the fact that she was interested in Jungkook as well though she needed time to figure it out.

“You are reconsidering Jungkook’s feelings?” Taehyung’s eyes glimmered in curiosity.

Jungkook rubbed his neck, holding back his bunny smile “Yes I am. I need time. I am not used to this” Seul mumbled timidly. Jimin was hurt by her answers, now it was obvious Seul might end up liking Jungkook for real is he didn’t do anything about it. What should he do again to fix this mess that he created?

“But, that doesn’t mean you have confirmed your true feelings for Jungkook right?” Yoongi’s hoarse voice baffled everyone. The older guy had chosen to keep his mouth shut all the time, hence to hear something coming from him was intimidating. Because after all, though Yoongi did not say it aloud about his feeling for Seul, all of them knew that guy had a thing for her. Jungkook realized it too. He had been stealing glance at Yoongi during their conversation, and his attention was on Seul most of the time.

Jungkook was not alone in this complicated battle. With Yoongi came into the picture, Jungkook was mentally ready to fight healthily.

“We can say that” not letting Yoongi’s stare penetrated her heart, Seul avoided his gaze at all cost.

Smiling with full of gratification, Yoongi arose from his seat “Then this conversation is over. That is all I need to hear” he gave one final look at Seul sending chill down her spine. She watched his body disappeared behind the door to his room leaving only six members around her.

“I am leaving too” muttering lowly, Jimin left the scene without saying much as Hoseok decided to tail him. He sensed something was wrong with Jimin, so he excused himself to investigate further. Taehyung followed not long after “I will see you later Seul..” he smiled warmly making his way stealthily to his room.

Jin was contemplating whether to be honest about his discomfort, in the end he chose to just shut it and give it a long thought before expressing it out. “Seul just stay over tonight, it is late. We don’t want you to walk in the dark alone. I will prepare the room for you” Jin stood up leaving the scene giving Seul no chance to protest. She grunted softly under her breath refusing the idea of staying over there today. Bad start.

Confused, Namjoon ran his fingers in his lock accompanied by a soft hum “Jungkook can you give us space? I need to talk with Seul alone” he turned to the younger guy that immediately nod with a small sigh.

Seul looked up with a small smile “Thank you Jungkook. Go rest” her sincerity made Jungkook fall head over heels for her again. A simple attention from Seul managed to crush another wall inside him, he craved for it.

“You too, see you in the morning. I hope. Good night Seul” his steps were heavy, even though this issue was settled due to the long talk, it still makes him nervous. After making sure Jungkook was nowhere to be seen around them, Namjoon shifted his attention back on the drained girl in front of him. His heart softened as his eyes landed on Seul’s distressed face.

“Seul-ah I won’t stop you or Jungkook. It is up to both of you to decide. Remember, if you hurt Jungkook you will have to face me. Do not give him a false hope even though it is okay for both of you to consider the options in front of you. I don’t want to see Jungkook broken-hearted”

“And, I have to warn you before things get out of hand. It is not just Jungkook’s feelings matter in this but others too. I can see another person in the room who actually like you just as much” Seul blinked with an unreadable expression.

“What do you mean by that” she retorted in disbelief. Did Namjoon just imply there were other BTS members liking her other than Jungkook? How was this even real? Seul felt so unreal at the moment. The impossibility only happened in dramas or movies. Since this occurred to her, she had no idea how to react to it.

Namjoon pressed his lips into thin line “You will find out soon. I am not the one who should tell you that. Just, make sure to not hurt anyone or yourself Seul-ah. Love is a scary thing. It is complicated. You can’t stop your feelings from loving someone, so give it a chance. Give the person a chance. Then you decide” he hinted.

“I am sorry Namjoon for causing this mess. I hope you are not being too hard on Jimin, he is right to doubt me. You guys barely knew me, so I understood Jimin. Even though part of me wanted to hit him hard for calling me a bitch. How dare he called me that” she grinded her teeth showing of her resentment over Jimin’s choice of word.

Chuckling softly, Namjoon nodded with an amused face “Don’t worry about Jimin. We fought a lot, then we made up the next day. This was nothing. Forgive Jimin and his foul mouth, he could be a little too vulgar when he got angry”

“He is protecting Jungkook that is normal. Your bonds are too strong even I couldn’t break that. I am glad Jimin decided to cuss at me instead of letting it slip off from his mind. That shows how much he cared for his members” she threw the compliments earnestly. It was true, it offended her, but she tried to see the bigger picture of it.

Namjoon had a proud smile on his face to hear someone admiring their brotherhood. It made him realized their bonds were no joke and he mentally agreed to Seul’s words. The tense in the room was diminishing and Seul finally able to breathe normally. Jin approached the two “The room is ready Seul, you should rest. I have prepared clean sweat and shirt on the bed for you to change. Don’t worry it is new, wear it” he beamed.

“Can i… not stay? This is uncomfortable” she murmured.

“What nonsense is that. No way, it is 4 in the morning. Just stay, we won’t let you go home at this time” Namjoon voice was stern and dominating. No wonder he’s the leader.

Seul eyes quivered uncomfortably, showing off her concern about the idea of a girl staying in an idol house “I don’t want to get caught by your manager, that would be bad. They have no idea about me replacing my mother” she tried to make up excuses to escape this place.

“We will be leaving around 10 for practice so, hyung won’t be here until the schedule. Don’t worry, leave before that” Jin showed no sign of giving up too, cornering the latter in process. “Just stay Seul, you don’t want to wear yourself out at work later. Go get some rest, the room is down the hall, just across Jimin and Hoseok” he gave a light pat on her head.

Seul finally gave in and nodded “Fine, I will stay just because I feel bad for what happened today. Thank you Jin. Good night both of you” she bid them a good night and made her way cautiously to the guest room.

Ji Seul, what will change after today. Seul made a mental note on it and decided to call it a day. She deserved a long rest after the therapy talk with Namjoon.

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

Tossing her body under the duvet, Seul found it was hard to fall asleep. It must be due to the new surroundings, with that she sat up groggily leaving the queen size bed for a moment to get warm drinks for herself. The hallway was quiet and dead, and she was sure the boys were already asleep at this time.

Seul glanced at the clock on the wall and muttered “It is just 5, ugh” she hugged her body, dragging her lazy feet to the kitchen. She made herself a hot cocoa in hope after this she could shut her eyes for two hours before sun rose again.

As she was about to leave with a cup of cocoa in her hand, she saw light flooding out from the open door of one of the rooms. She walked silently towards the source of light making sure her feet on the ground did not produce any unwanted sound. The room was a private lounge room for the boys to chill when they have times, it was decorated with music equipment at the corner, book shelves and a small purple billiard table. Across the book shelves there was a L-shape sofa to complete the room.

Seul peeked her head a little searching for familiar faces inside but only to be welcomed by an empty room. Straighten herself back to her original trance, she reached out for the switch light to turn it off. To her sheer surprise, a pair of hand wrapped securely around her wrist preventing her from moving. Startled, Seul’s eyes searched from the owner of the hand who stood few steps from her.

“Jimin…” she exhaled.

Jimin’s eyes looked sleepily and there were few strands of hair stuck out making him to appear super cute. To top that, he was wearing a cute blue pyjama with stars and moon design printed on it. Seul mentally judging Jimin’s appearance as well as trying to get a hold of herself from fangirling over this look.

“Can’t sleep?” he signalled the drinks in her hand with a flat smile.

“Yes.. do you want some I can make you one?” she offered.

Declining it politely, Jimin brought Seul’s hand down and looked at her way a little too intense. Her breath hitched in process like it was about to pop off any second by now “We can share” he suggested.

“Urm..Sure…” Jimin tugged her hand softly, bringing her inside the room to the sofa. Both of them sat down awkwardly side by side, and it made her felt uneasy. Jimin held back his tongue finding a perfect word to start this conversation. He couldn’t sleep because the guilt was slowly eating him up. He had a hard time to get Seul out of his mind.

Licking his lower lips, Jimin fisted his pyjama stealing glance at Seul’s side profile that never ceased to amaze him. A soft smile crept on his face, but as soon as their eyes locked, it rendered him speechless. Words that came out from Seul’s mouth only went pass through him, his attention was on her soft lips. The stain of hot cocoa at the corner of her lips made his mind went wild for a moment. He had to urge to kiss her but quickly shrug the thought off from his mind.

“Jimin..I said, do you want to take a sip?” her brows quirked in confusion.

Jimin removed the mug from her hand and took a long sip of the hot drinks without looking at her. It was not his intention to have a weird thought on Seul, yet he couldn’t help but to think that way. His hand was shaking a little, and his grip on the mug was about to slip off but Seul fast reflex avoided any accident happen.

She sat the mug down on the coffee table, sending a worried glance at Jimin “Jimin are you alright?” she whispered. Seul touched his forehead with the back of her hand, flustering Jimin even more “I..am alright… Just cold…” he coughed away the lump on his throat.

“Do you want me to turn on the heater?” Seul was about to get up until she felt him holding her down not allowing her to move even an inch. She blushed at the closeness of their face and body. Watching her this up close caused uproar in his heart, his eyes travelled from her eyes to her cute nose down to her lips again.

Jimin ran his hand to her jaw, giving a soft trace around the skin that tingled her heart. She held back her own heavy breathing, letting her eyes roamed freely on Jimin’s face. He stroked his thumb over her lips, stroking it effortlessly slow caused the latter to mewl a little under his magic touch.

Seul was aware, she’s supposed to be upset of Jimin. They hadn’t talk about what happened at the café, and it was so wrong to be this close to each other. Where was the tense between them again? How could it diminish that easily?

Her eyes fluttered open upon feeling Jimin strong gaze on her, and she was indeed right. Jimin eyes sparked under the light, looking dashing as always even without his makeup. He would always appear beautiful in front of her. Resting his forehead against Seul, he murmured awfully low “Seul-ah..I am sorry..for everything” it surprised her once again. Wow, Jimin is full of surprise.

“I didn’t mean to yell at you or call you with those horrible names. I was protecting Jungkook and..myself I guess..It was hard to admit to my own feeling Seul-ah” he continued.

Protecting himself? Seul flinched.

Seul smiled meekly as her fingers unconsciously tangled with his free hand on his lap, fiddling around casually “I understand. And I want to apologize too. It is my fault that this happen. You have the right to question me, because I am a stranger. Just don’t call me bitch, I really hated it” her lower lips puckered out a little showing her protest.

Jimin’s soft chuckle ease the tension that she felt earlier with him “I need to control my anger next time. I am sorry that I vent it out on you. In fact, I have something to tell you Seul” Seul face fell with anticipation.

What else would she hear today?

“Seul-ah” he called out softly, sitting up straight.

For the umpteenth time today, Seul’s face started to lose its colour again.

Interlacing their hand together, Jimin took a deep breath before breaking the eerie silence again “Since it come to this, I will play it fair beside Jungkook” he professed.

“What do you mean by that” she looked at him clueless.

“I see you as a woman...”

“……..”

“I like you a lot Seul. More than you imagine. This feeling is torturing me” Seul lips quivered letting the emotions overflowed her. Then it hit him hard, so this was the thing that Namjoon hinted her earlier. Jimin was another someone in BTS who had similar feelings as Jungkook.

Seul squeaked “Jimin..I…don’t know, it is just-“ he hushed her, shaking his head slowly.

“Don’t… I want to play it fair as I mention. You don’t get to decide now. We will give this thing a time. I don’t mind, as long as you allow me to show my genuine feelings for you. Will you?”

“Jimin..I might not be worth fighting for” she looked down on their intertwined hands, giving him a soft squish.

He sighed “Yes you are. I deny my feelings enough Seul and I am not doing that again. It only hurts you and I. That is not worth it, I am embracing my feelings that I have for you. Let me fight along with Jungkook” Seul heaved a tired sigh.

“I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want Jungkook to get hurt. What if, this only bring pain rather than happiness?” she expressed her worries. Even though, it was indeed true you couldn’t stop yourself from falling in love, but this issue was more than just that. It involved a lot of thing.

“We will manage that. I talked this out with Jungkook”

Her eyes rounded in sheer surprise “You did? When?” she inquired.

“Urm… as soon as the talk with Namjoon hyung ended. Jungkook is more than just a friend, he is my family. We talked about this. Seul, it is not like we plan to fall in love with the same person. It is coincidence. We will be able to manage this without hatred” Jimin convinced.

Seul needed a moment to decipher this whole thing. The idea of being in the middle of Jimin and Jungkook was so bad making her unsure of herself. If this only involved these two guys then it would be fine to her, but what if someone else resurfaced and professed the same thing, like Yoongi. She shrugged off the thought of the possibility being fight over again by another member.

“Jimin..I am not sure, I am scared of the future”

“Then lets live the present, that is important. Do not think about the future”

“At the end of the day, I will still have to choose” she protested.

“And when that day come, we will ready our heart Seul-ah. It is long way to go, do not let the future hold us back” he whispered, caressing her cheeks lovingly.

It never dawns on her to experience this kind of thing this year, what a mess. Did her decision to replace her mother as BTS Caretaker only to cause chaos rather than promoting peace?

Seul sighed, resting her head against his shoulder seeking for comfort and warmth. This thing was draining her energy, she felt numb. Jimin wrapped his arm automatically around her shoulder, bringing her close to his chest “I am sorry if this is too much for you to handle Seul” he rubbed his arm, planting soft kiss on top of her head.

Curling up in his embrace, Seul buried her face at the crook of his neck, inhaling his sweet manly scent “I am sorry that I can’t give both of you the answer that you want” she mumbled against his skin.

“Why are you sorry? We don’t need the answers now, we only need your presence around us. That is enough” he soothed his lock, smiling ear to ear at their close proximity. He had been dreaming doing this thing with Seul, having her in her arms and cuddling on the sofa. It felt unreal.

“Thank you Seul..”

“And what is that for?”

“For existing and allowing me to experience this”

Seul smiled to herself “That line is so cliché Jim. And, thank you for having that kind of feeling for me. ” he beamed. Jimin locked his arms around her tighter, nuzzling her hair in process. Whatever it takes, Jimin would never deny his true feelings anymore. He’s willing to see how far this could go. Only that he was not able to see what the future beholds, it never stops him.

Her lids started to grow heavy, and she found herself enjoying Jimin’s warmth around her. Was this a start of everything? She did question herself what change after today. Guess, Seul had to live with the fact that in one day she received two confessions from an unexpected male.

Her life was about to get interesting.

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

When Jimin woke up it was eight in the morning, they had cuddled on the couch and fallen asleep. Jimin smiled to himself admiring Seul’s sleeping face, he felt a warmth that he never experiences before. Seul looked exhausted and calm in his embrace. His moist lips landed on top of her head to get her to wake up.

Few minutes later, she roused herself and with her eyes perfectly shut, he could see her sweet smile on her face “Did we fell asleep here?” she stretched a little, burying her face shyly in his chest.

Jimin chuckled, stroking her back gently “Yes, but we did get a good sleep anyway” Seul nodded and sat up followed by Jimin afterwards. As soon as her eyes landed on Jimin’s morning hair, she giggled and leaned closer. Raking her fingers in his soft lock, she stroked it gently, fixing it a little while Jimin was too busy staring at her.

“There you are set to go” she exclaimed. Her chirpy voice lightens up his world, what a good way to start a new day. “Oh shoot, it is late I need to clean the house and prepare you guys breakfast. I hope Jin is not awake yet” she combed her hair getting ready to leave.

“You go out first I will come out later. You don’t want to be bombarded by questions this early” he pinched her nose. Scrunching her nose cutely, she gave in with the idea. Seul arose from her feet and as she was about to leave, she skipped quickly to his side.

Dazed Jimin gave her a questionable look, she closed the gap between them, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He turned giddy over it and she heard her whisper “You said to give both of you a chance. So, I am giving both of you a chance. Good morning Jimin” with those last word, she skidded outside the room with a bright pink face.

Jimin buried himself once again under the soft blanket, letting himself fanboying over this small tingly feeling that he had this early. He would never regret his decision. Just like he said, he would only live the present for now. The future was still far ahead, anything could happen until then. If he worries the future now, it would be no fun in dealing with his every day’s life.

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

Jin blinked at the figure who just walked pass him and he called her out before she could disappear further “Seul, you are awake?” she jolted and turned to face Jin nervously.

“Are you awake already? I am so sorry, I overslept Jin. Let me prepare the breakfast!” she walked over to Jin with guilt.

“Hey don’t worry Seul. It is my duty. Today, I want you to eat my cooking. May I know why are you coming out from that way?” he blinked, taking a good look at Seul’s flushed face.

Seul rubbed her arms, trying to find perfect answers which did not sound suspicious “I couldn’t sleep yesterday. I stayed in the lounge until I fell asleep” Jin lips was formed into an ‘o’ shape with a bright smile.

“Good morning hyu-“Jimin cleared his throat realizing the older guy had woken up and was interrogating Seul. She cursed in her head in frustration when she heard Jimin’s voice boomed across the hall. That called for another trouble.

Jin eyed the two suspiciously “And why are you not in your room, may I ask?” he probed with a hint of jealousy.

“I…fall asleep in Jungkook’s room.. We got carried away and we really had a long talk” he lied. Jimin and Seul exchanged nervous glance as both of them felt their brain momentarily froze due to Jin’s sudden appearance this morning.

“Really? Hurm.. Okay then.. go wash up and wake up others” a sigh of relief escaped from their lips. Jin bought it and that was good enough. Fleeing from the scene, Jimin quickly entered his room before he could ask him more question.

Jin travelled his eyes to Seul “You too go wash up. I will prepare breakfast for us alright?” he hushed her out from his territory causing the girl to pout in protest. She complied to Jin’s request anyways because after all, he almost caught her red handed a few second ago. How awful would it be if Jin found out Jimin and her fell asleep on the couch together?

Everyone was in the dining room an hour later, and for some reason the thick atmosphere was no longer there. Instead, the breakfast turned out to be lively and filled with laughter from every corner. The boys made Seul felt comfortable and she was grateful none of them brought up the sensitive topic anymore. So, they had decided to follow the flow and not to pressure themselves over petty things. Since Jimin and Jungkook had decided to play it nicely, there was nothing to be worried off.

Hoseok on the other hand had the time of his life, goofing around with Seul which she enjoyed every second the guy cracked his silly jokes. In fact, Kim Taehyung also showed his silly side making everyone cringe at his randomness. Everyone had opened up to each other and to have Seul in the picture gave more colours to their already meaningful life. After breakfast, Seul cleaned up the place like she usually does but only this time the boys offered their hands to help.

No matter how much she insisted of doing it alone, they were all stubborn. They only allowed her to do the laundry and cleaned the living room and their private lounge. Namjoon ordered his members to clean their own room which they complied without any complain. Even for the lazy bum Jungkook, surprisingly he was the first one to finish off the cleaning. Therefore, he went to Seul helping her with the laundry.

She had given up to nag or show her protest, so she let the boy to help. In exchanged of that, Seul had a good chat with Jungkook. It felt better to have conversation with Jungkook without his mask on. This felt too real to be truth, but this guy was down to earth. Every Bangtan members was not as snobby as she thought they appeared to be. They were not just effortlessly beautiful, but they were kind and relatable.

Relatable, that was the perfect way to describe them.

After good one-hour spring cleaning with Bangtan, they were ready to leave for their practice. Seul too was getting ready to leave for work, she bowed showing off her gratitude for letting her stay over a day “Thank you for letting me stay” she smiled.

“Need I to remind you this is your workplace too. Don’t be formal. We are glad to have you around” Jin ruffled her hair only to receive a low protest from Seul. She shot him a glare for messing up her hair. Jin raised his hand in defeat and shrugged.

“It is fun to clean the dorm with you Seul. Will we be able to meet you again next time?” Taehyung had a big fat smile across his face causing to squeal over his cuteness. “Of course, there will always be next time” she jabbed his arm playfully.

“Leave before your manager come up hunting you down. Have a good day ahead everyone” she waved as she watched one by one of them leaving. Jungkook gave her a brief hug with a wink, causing her to blush instantly.

She deadpanned mentally, trying to get used to his affection towards him.

Yoongi was fall behind and the sight in front of him, annoyed him to the core. He shoved his hand in his pocket pulling out a small paper resembled the sticky note. Scrutinizing his straight face, Seul looked down on her hand when he slipped the note on her palm.

“What is this?”

“Tomorrow, 4PM. Bungee jumping. It is a date” he dashed off without saying more. Seul gawked not believing what she just heard few seconds ago. Did Yoongi just ask her out for a date? It came to her realization; the small note was an admission ticket to the bungee jumping thing.

Does it mean, it isn’t just Jimin. Yoongi too? She grunted under her sharp breath. Seul was making sense out of this again. How was it possible to have three guys chasing after her fragile heart?

#btscaretaker #bts fics #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #btsfic #yoongi x oc #jungkook x oc #bts x oc #jungkook fluff #yoongi romance #bts idolau #bts series #namjoon x oc #taehyung x oc #jin x oc #jimin x oc #hoseok x oc

20 notes · View notes

gabba-gool-cool · 4 years ago

Text

Remembrance

Chapter One: A flash

Notes: This is a new DabiHawks thing im starting, and yes it will be ChildhoodFriends!AU because that is adorable, cannon can bite me :) Enjoy the story!

Warnings: Yelling, mention of death (not a character in the series), and mention of not eating food (skip this post if you need to, i promise its okay, be safe!)

this work is also posted to my Ao3!

Not many people know this, but Dabi loves to read. He almost always has a new book with him, he rips through them so quick. Ever since he was a little boy, he loved getting immersed into his favorite author’s universes. His favorite as a child were the Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. He always wondered what turkish delight tasted like and always checked every closet in his house every day as a child, just to see if maybe, just maybe... Nope, just mom’s coats.

He must have read that series a million times by the time he was eleven years old. His mother loved this about him, and she loved to ignite his fire for reading by suggesting new books and taking him to the book shop every other Sunday afternoon. Her favorite shop to take him to was called Philosopher’s Phosphor. It sold many books, old and new. The little shop also sold homemade jewelry by the two old women who ran the place who Dabi’s mother referred to as Janice and Edith.

The shop was always the perfect temperature, not too hot and not too cold. All around the shop there was comfortable seating. Pillows and blankets, books all over. Everyone who came it would always stay for at least an hour at a time, just sitting reading, and if you asked nicely, Janice loved brewing homemade tea, at no cost, of course. You could choose to sit and read every book in the shop if you wished, or you could buy and bring home the books, it was up to you. Janice and Edith would always accept any and all book donations, and always marked down their book prices so anyone could buy. And to answer your question, why of course all of the jewelry is handmade, beautifully made by Edith, they are having a sale, would you like this ring? It would match well with your beautiful skin tone.

Dabi loved asking the old women questions about books like, how were they made? How did they get to the shop? How did you pick which books to put on each shelf? However, his most common question was “what should i read next?” Which would lead to the two old women getting up and taking Dabi’s little hand through the warmly lit shop. They would show him to fantasies, mysteries, thrillers, adventures, and even some graphic novels. He loved everything the women showed him, he would always come back with his mother, every other Sunday without fail, to see the little old ladies that would show him a whole new universe to fall into.

They were always holding hands, and always so gentle to one another, as well as all of the customers, but... that was a long time ago. That shop was burned down, the old ladies aren't there anymore, and Dabi hasn't been to that shop in probably... how old was he again? He doesn't know. However, what he does know is that right now Shigaraki will not stop talking... as always.

“Well maybe he wouldn't have had to die if he didn't have had the audacity to be a little bitch!” Shigaraki’s voiced strained. Shigaraki was stood up, hands out stretched to really make his point. He was talking, of course, about a man he decided to murder on a whim just last night. It wasn’t apart of the mission, the man was just walking home, and the poor soul ended up accidentally bumping and slightly tripping the leader of the League of Villains.

“Tomura, he was crying because he was about to die, most people don't like the idea of dying. Shocker! I know...” Spinner rolled his eyes. He respected Shigaraki, but only because Stain did as well. This doesn't mean that Shigaraki cant get on his nerves sometimes. It bothered Spinner how easily Shigaraki could just up and kill someone for seemingly, no reason. If it wasn't for a good cause, if the person wasn't in your way, if the person wasn't the target, then what was the point of killing them? Its honestly just cruel, and in Spinner’s head, kind of disgusting.

Everyone in the League of Villains has, will, and would kill, but not all of them have the same boundaries or rules they go by. This can and has led to many arguments, just like the one that was about to ensue between Spinner and Shigaraki. As the voices of the Stain fanboy and Handyman began to rise, so did Dabi’s body from his stool at the bar. Dabi was sure that the argument wouldn’t end in a casualty so he didn’t have any need to be here.

Dabi hated yelling anyways, it always got on his nerves. Whether it be him yelling or someone else, he hated it. Not that he really could yell too much himself, his voice nowadays became hoarse and worn by simply talking too much. That's why his normal speaking voice was actually quite soft and generally pretty quiet. He didn’t mean for his voice to be that way, but years of smoking and over usage of his quirk kind of completely destroyed his vocal chords. Either way, he saw no point in yelling. You can get any point across just fine without yelling, sometimes you just need a weapon, but that of course depends on the person and situation he supposed.

The old floorboards in the back of the bar slowly creaked under each of Dabi’s steps. From the bar, there was a side door, which led to a hallway, which led to some stairs, which led to a basement living room, which led to everyone elses rooms. Well, at least the core members of the league’s rooms. It was nice, having a space for himself. The last time he had a room to himself was probably when he was still a little boy.

Dabi opened his bedroom door.

The whole house was very traditional, so in turn, so was his room. He didn't have many toys, so his favorite thing to do was play pretend with his brother and his sister. He would set up whole scenes with his siblings. Sometimes the scenes were from tv, and some were completely from his and his sibling’s imaginations.

His sister was always the doctor or the nurse, she loved Recovery Girl. In fact, Dabi remembers how every time Recovery Girl came on the news, she would always make a little squeal and her little feet would pitter patter in one place in excitement. He always found it funny how his brother ended up being the doctor in the family, now that they were older. His brother, meanwhile, loved being the villain. He loved making up a cool bad guy name and backstory, sometimes even costumes if Mom got involved. His brother would make up impossible, evil machines that could rearrange your guts or make you super tiny, or even super big! Dabi’s brother was always very creative.

This left Dabi playing the hero, and he loved it. He would put on a cape, and save mom from his brother’s evil clutches alongside his sister who would give him magic healing and strength “potions” that was actually just little jars filled with handsoap and sometimes random cleaning supplies that was on the cleaning lady’s supply cart. The chairs would become big rocks to jump from, the couch would become a “safe zone”, and the bathtub would become the ocean. The whole house morphed into their own imaginary world. It was wonderful, until...

Dabi’s room now was barren. It has a bed, a bookshelf and a desk. It’s all he really needed, he supposed. The shelf had three mystery books that he picked up on a mission a couple weeks ago. They were “okay” in his opinion. He hated how quickly he called the so-called “plot twists”, but least the characters were somewhat entertaining. However, there was a slight romance in one of the books, which was very poorly written, it got to the point where he ended up just dropping the book entirely.

The book in his jacket was one of the Dark Tower series by Stephen King, the book series was different from King’s other works in that it was less of a horror novel than it was an adventure series. It reminded him slightly of the books he read when he was younger. He used to prefer adventures and fantasy, but now that he was older, his favorite genre was mysteries. He did indulge in horror novels whenever he happened by one though, he liked a good thriller.

Turning on the light in his room, it gave off a dim light. He needed to change the blub, but he sure it would be fine for at least a little while. Then, it flickered, oh no... and then again, please dont... and finally, with a low buzz and a pop, the light was out.

“Fuck... okay.” he slowly murmured to himself. Slowly dragging his hand down his face in frustration.

He had no idea when he would be able to replace that lightbulb. He had no cash, and he knew for a fact that the league didn't just have some extra lightbulbs laying around, not to mention extra food.

Damn... his stomach rumbled slightly. Dabi doesn't remember the last time he ate an actual meal, and he doesn't want to remember either. So, since he couldn't get food now or for awhile, he decided to distract himself, as he always did.

Slowly he stalked over to the small window that peeked outside the base. The walls were tall and thick, and he was pretty sure he was the only one with a window downstairs, as tiny as it was. He slowly took off the little tapestry he had hung up to cover the window for privacy. Of course, he couldn't imagine any one peeking through a little basement window so low to the ground, but you never know. Also, Dabi quite enjoyed his privacy, thank you very much. The tapestry blended red, to purple, and then blue in the background with a black silhouette of a dolphin and waves in the foreground. It was an odd little thing, but Dabi enjoyed it nonetheless.

As he gently folded the tiny piece of fabric and set it on his desk, he looked back into his room. Surprisingly, that little window let in quite a bit of light. He silently thanked the window as he plopped down on to his mattress that laid on the ground. Then, he pulled out his book from his big inner pocket on his long jacket, and finally began to read, feeling the thoughts of food slowly drift from mind.

It could've been hours, minutes, or even seconds, Dabi doesn't really know, until he finally snapped his head up from his book and looked to the window. He quickly shot up and went up to the window. He looked left, and then right, and then over again. Huh... that's odd... he could’ve sworn he saw a flash of red right outside of his window.

#dabi #touya todoroki #touya #hawks #takami keigo #dabihawks #hawks x dabi #keigo x touya #keigo #shigaraki #spinner #league of villains

8 notes · View notes

empathic-seer · 3 years ago

Text

About

Name: Sheridan Dwyer

Age: 18(TWEWY), 21(Neo-TWEWY/Post Neo)

Height: 4’9/144 cm

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Questioning but identifies Bisexual

Occupation: Full-time College Student for Nursing, works part-time performing whatever jobs she can get for acting and voice acting. Keeping her eyes open for an opening at WildKat.

Biography:

I’d mostly prefer for the details to come out organically, but she lives in Shibuya to pursue Nursing school and has a tiny apartment all her own.

Her mother has suffered from chronic pain and other ailments since she was small but they’re super close, her biological father treats her like a child and tries to buy her love with money and video games and her mother’s now ex was severely emotionally and verbally abusive as well all the way until he was finally kicked out when she was 14.

Her mother has kept in some contact though she’s readying to cut him off completely and Sheridan still stiffens at the sound of his voice and can recognize him by his knock.

She’s always seen the UG, but she didn’t learn or see nearly as much as she does in Shibuya due to being from a smaller town in New York. It was mainly just Noise.

She was born at 1 pound 11 ounces and before the third trimester, leading to her nearly dying twice. According to her Mom, she had the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck, so she wasn’t getting any nutrients. After that scare, 3 days later her oxygen levels suddenly went down to single digits, to the point a priest was called in to give last rites. Once the cross was drawn on her forehead her oxygen levels shot up and haven’t come back down since.

Sheridan assumes this is why she can see the UG, though she has no idea why she was saved and it’s something she struggles with often.

Speaking of the Game; boy is she conflicted about it. She probably shouldn’t be, but she helps any Players she can if she catches them in a reaper decal store, warning them of approaching Noise and often putting herself at risk to help them find Partners to give them a fighting chance. She’s also known for interfering more directly by taking infective Noise onto herself. She can’t take seeing others in pain and would rather deal with the ensuing negativity than have another go through it.

So yeah. Oops. As far as her conflict with the Game itself, she loves the fact people get a second chance, and even understands entry fees and their purpose to help others grow. But the erasure part...that she struggles with. It takes a big emotional toll on her and she can’t grasp why it’s necessary as she doesn’t understand the inner-workings enough.

Thoughts on the Games:

The World Ends With You:

Speaking of the Game; boy is she conflicted about it. She probably shouldn’t be, but she helps any Players she can if she catches them in a reaper decal store, warning them of approaching Noise. She’s also known for interfering more directly by taking infective Noise onto herself. She can’t take seeing others in pain and would rather deal with the ensuing negativity than have another go through it. All the better if it helps out Players on the way.

She recognizes she has a lot to learn, especially being only a bystander who mainly watches from the sidelines.

At the end of the Game, nimbly avoids wearing an O pin after seeing the effects from the Game, she hides out in high Imagination areas like Udagawa, the River and WildKat to feel safer. The conformity scares her, she’s always felt different but being alone in a sea of people with the same goal...she never wants to feel so isolated again.

Neo:

As far as Shiba’s Game...she does not like the change.

The UG she’d come to expect was turned completely on its head and it’s even worse.

She understood most of Joshua’s Game. The checks and balances set in place, Reapers and Players, entry fees...all of it save the erasure.

But now the erasures have increased with one team winning nonstop and all she can do is watch in horror as it happens. So many people...Erased without a thought week after week. It’s emotional torture for her as an Empath honestly. The horror, the fear, and then just...nothing.

The shifting energy is much darker than the conformity at the end of the original and she can tell something dangerous is happening, though she can’t grasp what.

Worries over the Wicked Twisters and keeps tabs on their emotions throughout the Game since they’re so much smaller than the other groups.

To say she was shocked when both Neku and Beat were in again was an understatement. She thought they’d escaped. There’s so much she doesn’t know but she watches even more intently when she can from then on.

Feels Shoka’s struggle and wants to help the girl escape the toxic influences surrounding her and get in a better environment.

Just wants everyone to be safe and healthy and for the suffocating air to be breathable again.

Tidbits:

Has always felt drawn to Shibuya River, and WildKat Cafe. There’s a...quiet. A calmness she never gets anywhere else. Particularly in the river. It’s just herself and her own emotions for once but even they feel muted there. Darker thoughts even if present is quieter, and become white noise in the wake of the sound of the river flowing.

Tends to loiter quietly and shyly steal glances at Hanekoma and Joshua if either is in the cafe but too intimidated to actually approach. Something feels...otherworldly about them. Her intuition can tell something is powerful about them so she’s always kept her distance despite feeling a pull towards both.

That goes the same for Hazuki as well, of course.

All Higher Plane beings in her experience mute her Empathy, though she isn't sure why. It's part of why she's so on edge around them, both wanting to be near and torn on approaching.

The library is another place you’ll find her, sequestering in a lone corner far from others and likely reading some supernatural romance aloud or working on a story.

Chronic fatigue is a bad side effect that’s pretty noticeable if she’s been giving too much of herself to others and letting herself be drained. In high school, she’d come home and have to nap for an hour or 3 depending on the day just to recover from the constant negativity she took on from all her “friends”. She still finds herself in that state pretty often, though not as bad nowadays as she’s trying to learn healthy boundaries.

Personality:

Sheridan is very openhearted and kind. Often way too trusting and forgiving for her own good despite having very good intuition. She’s very quick to inquire how others are but brushes off when asked about herself and quickly redirects. She’s very comfortable when it comes to taking care of others since she had a sick mom to take care of all throughout childhood. It’s instinct for her to see if anyone needs anything and she’s ended up flustered many a time by accidentally asking “are you ok?” or “do you need anything?” since if she drifts off or gets bored it’ll pop out sometimes after living with her mom for so long.

She’s also an Empath, meaning she feels what others do and experiences their emotions as her own. She tends to have her guard up a little, she doesn't want to accidentally get too much of someone unless they're ready to give it, but she also doesn't want to leave someone in crisis. She...has a bad habit of attracting people who use her as an emotion dumping ground and letting them stay way too long.

Sheridan feels like her whole purpose is to help others. Like it's all she's good for. She's really struggling to learn that selfish isn't a dirty word and that she's allowed to want things too and to get upset and that what she says is worth listening to.

Easy to think about, but hard to put into practice. She's learned when people ignore her or especially talk over her to quiet down. 'Clearly they just really need to talk right? I didn't have anything important to add anyway." Or so her thought process typically goes.

She tends to be shy at first but if given positive reinforcement and encouragement she’ll slowly warm up. She does best in intimate, small groups.

Seems like she doesn’t have a sense of humor but is actually pretty funny now and then. She just has to feel comfortable enough to crack jokes in the first place.

People tend to look at her in shock if she curses since when she’s first meeting people and in the warming up phase, she seems very polite, kind, and innocent to a fault.

Easily flustered, especially by teasing. Any person she’s even a little bit attracted to she’ll likely be at least a little pink, fidgety and sheepish. It doesn’t take much either. Corner her, pin her, or even just direct eye contact could be enough to make her go red. She’s hopeless in that regard since she’s very inexperienced.

Severely touch starved but way too scared of rejection to initiate or confess as much so she just kinda suffers in silence.

An easy crier. Cries at the drop of a hat. Even when angry, she cries because no matter what she’s hurting to be angry at all given it’s typically very rare for her to begin with. Feeling what everyone around her does has led to her being a every emotional person in her own right.

Hobbies:

Enjoys acting and performing more than anything, even though she’s yet to be cast as a lead or anything major except in her theatre final, where she got to play Doris from Fame. One of her favorite roles. She loved participating in high school at her musical theatre program and did stage crew all the way up to 11th grade when she finally made it in and got to be in first the ensemble and then lead ensemble the following year. She often gets typecast as the “cute one” or child roles thanks to being 4’9 and being very accommodating and kind.

Somewhat hand in hand with acting and performing, but singing. Gets stage fright occasionally but is able to push through it.

Reading body language is something else she finds very fun, but she never voices it without explicit consent. She likes to people-watch in Shibuya and guess their lives inwardly to keep herself fresh.

Plays video games very often, especially RPGs as well as reading to escape her troubles. It’s a great way to combat loneliness and also not think for a while, to lose herself in another world.

Writes as well, to vent her negative thoughts. Typically through a fanfiction blog for x reader fandom and kpop content in 2nd person. A bit shy about voicing it though. Has original ideas and has started a book but trying to build her own world and the magic system has proven a bit difficult.

Reading supernatural romance novels. Her favorite genre since the worlds and characters are typically very immersive and serve as great escape potential. Loves to find a corner, make sure she's completely alone, and voice act the characters as she reads. Y'know, like a nerd.

Likes to bake, especially different types of cookies. It’s a great stress reliever. She has several video game recipes she wants to try to learn though. Particularly the butterscotch cinnamon pie from Undertale and sea-salt ice cream from Kingdom Hearts 358/2 Days.

Binging guilty pleasure shows. Loves laughing at trashy reverse harems with friends like Diabolik Lovers to both appreciate the hotness of the designs and voice acting and also how awful the characters are as people. Doesn’t mind thirsting over toxic vampires, but obviously only in fiction.

Anxiety:

Mental Health: Not great, though most likely wouldn't guess so. She'd much rather help others, see what they need than have them focus on her. She's very much not used to that and doesn't know how to react.

(Important Note! Please do NOT feel pressured to include anything below in our rp and if you ever need a specific thing added as a trigger tag do let me know! My Trigger tag format is Trigger; ______ if you need to block any! I'm open to it of course, given I included them in my form I just want to make sure everyone I roleplay with has the tools to tailor the experience to them and feel secure.

If I want to start a thread or anything about the issues below I will likely message the Mun in advance first for permission first unless they've stated they're explicitly fine with such content and apologies in advance if I'm awkward when reaching out.)

She tends to have panic attacks thanks to severe arachnophobia and it can take her a solid hour to work up the courage to try and kill one, typically while she's crying and whimpering to herself to "breathe Sheridan, that's it breathe…"

She tends to get bouts of social anxiety. When she's acting it's fine because she's not her, and the same for if she's in an intimate group.

But especially if someone starts yelling at her? She'll likely freeze and then look to run away before the person sees her crying. She can't stop shaking and can barely breathe. It's awful and a huge trigger for her. Even if it's not directed at her she'll still panic.

Also suffers from driver’s anxiety. Still only has her permit since she hasn’t found anyone who can put her at ease enough and that she wouldn’t be embarrassed to break down with.

Asperger's Syndrome/Autism Spectrum Disorder:

High functioning but a big person to hyper-fixate and jump from one fixation to another especially when in a bad headspace. Can become obsessed and may need to be gently pulled back/ forced outside.

Stims, mainly physically. Squirms before sleep mainly because her brain won't shut off.

Soft/smooth stims are her favorite anxiety soothers.

Has a rainbow bear with purple eyes she's had since childhood that is a stim she uses to calm from panic.

Clutches her necklace; an Undertale plaque that reads in white text '*a determined soul' and has the rainbow SOUL hearts above it. Uses it as a source of strength.

Bounces her leg when she can but has mainly learned to force herself to stop.

Only does this one when not around her mom since both share the same stim and her Mom said it made her nauseous.

Depression:

Frequent intrusive negative thought spirals and suicidal ideation. Thoughts of self-harm, in a similar vein, though she’d never act on it.

Unfortunately, knowing they’re irrational doesn’t stop the thoughts from happening way too often for her liking.

Her becoming overwhelmed by her emotions and breaking down for 3 hours is commonplace, as is her ghosting for way too long. A bad habit because she doesn't want to burden anyone when she’s not even able to be there for them.

Basically, if she isn’t serving others she feels she shouldn’t exist at all but she’s trying to understand she has worth all on her own.

Eating Issues:

Body dysmorphia with her weight. She tends to not eat often and even if urged she hates that she has to force herself and typically puts herself down which can lead to a spiral if she’s not careful.

Sometimes she's fine. But even when "fine" she'll typically have something small like a muffin, and a 1/4 of dinner and that's all she'll eat.

She snacks because she doesn't have to think when she eats it if she's distracted. Things like popcorn, pocky, or pretzels are her go-to's.

Kind of wants someone to be able to care enough to notice inwardly and maybe text her to see when and what she's last eaten but doesn't ever want to emotionally dump like others do to her because she doesn't want to be a burden or pitied.

CPTSD:

She had her first emotion flashback recently having to do with her abuser and has been shaken ever since, trying to deal with it on her own. Yelling is a trigger for her, especially when paired with degradation.

Forced "civility" as well.

There was a period while her mother was unaware of the extent of the abuse given Sheridan was still trying to protect her. Over the course of 3 years nothing but good night and good morning, passive-aggressive and snide comments of "aren't you going to say hi/bye/thank you/your welcome?" anytime she was too crippled by anxiety/fear to look at him, let alone speak was the norm.

Relationships:

None yet! Just let me know if anyone wants to be added and I’ll happily do so! <3

#Headcanons; intuitive introspection #Ooc; navigating noise #Trigger; eating disorders #Trigger; verbal abuse #Trigger; emotional abuse #Trigger; depression #Trigger; anxiety #Trigger; arachnophobia #Trigger; cptsd

0 notes

stevedrysdale · 5 years ago

Text

XOXO Steve

Summary: Valentine's Day, somehow you found yourself with your best friend Steve making poor decisions. “Promise me one thing sweetheart, if this time next year we’re both alone you’ll be mine. Just for the night.” Steve asked you. But he wasn't being very honest with you, he wasn't really a one night kind of guy.

A/N: Yes, I know the title is cheesy but I love valentine’s day. This is a dark!steve 18 + fic and includes noncon elements, abo, and mentions of pregnancy. And I’m not tagging anyone because I’m a coward

Steve was your best friend, and you’d intended to keep things that way. He was a little bit too traditional for your tastes, he wanted the wife and the kids and you didn’t think you could ever give him that life. So you kept him at a platonic distance, but still sometimes he looked at you in that way. A way that you’d never expect from Steve.

As best friends, you spent your valentine’s day with him. It was much better than being alone. It was coming to that time again this year, and with your career ramping up you didn’t know if you had the patience or time for dating. But you were human, and you didn’t want to be alone. You could count on Steve.

Even if he was an alpha, he was respectful. You didn’t feel like he was going to jump your bones, but a hefty dose of suppressants did help. With your meds he was just like any other beta to you. And you knew Steve found it refreshing that you didn’t fawn over him like other omega girls, he told you as much.

But Steve was tired. He was tired of waiting. He had done everything he could to try and wear you down, he showed you that he respected you, that he wasn’t like other alphas. He was reliable, trustworthy. He was an American hero, you had no reason to turn a man like him down.

Somehow you were completely oblivious to his affections, anyone else would notice how strong his scent became around you. Suppressants blunted those senses, and while at first he was relieved to be able to hide his desires with you for when you worked together on missions, he later grew to resent them. Perhaps without them you would know that you were his. It would certainly make things easier.

Even suppressed he could smell your pussy, the faintest hint of your pheromones. They made him feel feral sometimes, too much time spent with that taunting scent was sure to send him into a rut. While he could control himself in a way that other Alphas could not around an unmated omega, his control around you was so limited. He felt like at any moment he would snap. And maybe he already did.

Valentine’s Day last year, you asked Steve to hang out with you at a bar while you drunk your sorrows. Your date stood you up, and again you had called your friend for a shoulder to rely on. It was hard for Steve not to be angry, knowing you were wasting your time with all these betas. But he had to still keep up pretenses, so he hid his rage.

He did not hide his disappointment however, “You know I don’t like seeing you do this to yourself sweetheart,” He shook his head as you downed a shot.

“Believe me I don’t like doing it either, sometimes I wish I could just skip over all the dating and get right to the good part.” You admitted.

Steve’s eyes darkened, he could make that happen. Instead of responding he simply hummed, took a sip of his beer. He wouldn’t get as drunk as you, that wasn’t even possible. But he still liked that you trusted him enough to drink with him. He knew you wouldn’t say the same for other Alphas, you had a general rule about being alone with them.

You sighed, “Looks like I got all dressed up for nothing.” You looked down at your thighs, pulling your red dress over your thighs.

Steve almost growled, jealous that you originally wore that for another man. But now you were here with him, “Not for nothing,” He shook his head, putting his hand on your shoulder. He thought about putting his hand on your waist, you weren’t drunk enough yet for him to be that forward with you. He wanted the other alphas at the bar to know you were his, for tonight at least.

You smiled back at Steve, accepting his flattery before turning your attention to the bartender. You needed another drink.

He definitely enabled your drinking by encouraging you to drink more than you would on a normal day, but it was the easiest way for him to get what he wanted from you. Alcohol loosened your lips, made you completely vulnerable to him. It was easy for him to tease out pieces of information from you, his favorite latest one was that you had never been with an alpha before.

“You know Steve, you’re a great friend,” You grinned. Being drunk like this made you feel giddy, your heart full of warm soft feelings as you let down your walls.

“Oh yeah, am I your pal?” He raised his brows.

“Yeah! You’re my pal and I love you,” You giggled.

You were playing with fire. Steve pressed his lips together in a hard line, “You know, back in my day if people saw us hanging out like this they’d think we were going steady.”

You grinned, “Well you are an old man Steve, things are a little different nowadays.”

He briefly looked over your form, “Not everything sweetheart, some things are still the same.”

You were oblivious. “Sure, if I was stuck in the forties I would be some alpha’s little housewife spending the rest of my life making babies.” You scoffed.

Steve leaned closer, “And what’s so bad about that?” His voice playful.

You rolled your eyes, “Really Steve?”

“C’mon sweetheart, I wanna hear you say it.”

“Say what? That I don’t wanna be someone’s baby factory,” You looked at him skeptically. You weren’t sure if he was being serious with you or not. You knew he liked to mess with you sometimes.

“Doll, you got it all wrong. Those omegas are all well taken care, they were happy. And the alphas, they courted their dames. Didn’t just pick any one off the street to satisfy their needs and leave.”

“Alright, yeah I know things today are not very ideal. That’s why so many of us are on suppressants. It’s just safer.”

“I think it makes things worse, it’s unnatural.” Steve frowned. “Don’t you ever wish you could have an alpha take care of you?”

You let out a shaky breath, “Yes.” It wasn’t something you had ever admitted before, but you trusted Steve.

“Then promise me one thing sweetheart, if this time next year we’re both alone you’ll be mine. Just for the night.”

You smiled at him, alcohol emboldening your decision making. “I promise Steve.”

He grinned back at you like a wolf, his eyes hungry and dark, “Good.”

By the time you left the bar you were about ready to pass out, Steve supporting you by the waist. And eventually you did pass out on the car ride home to your apartment. Which left Steve to carry you to your bed like you were his bride.

For a while he was just content to hold you passed out in his arms, but when he looked down at your exposed thighs his self control quickly left him. He just needed a taste...just a little one. Then he would leave, with you none the wiser.

He set you down on the bed gently so as not to wake you, Steve’s eyes growing wide as your thighs naturally fell apart to expose more skin. “Oh sweetheart,” He cooed.

You smelled so good to him, a completely unclaimed omega. You belonged to no one, which meant that he could make you his. All in due time with careful planning, even when you denied your nature.

Then if you were his he could have what he always wanted, an omega to come home to, to warm his bed, to give him babies, and to love him. Why shouldn’t that omega be you? He didn’t want to go through the effort of finding another, he was growing tired of being alone. You already admitted that you loved him, now he just needed you to accept it for yourself.

“Doll you’re gonna make such a good mate, a good wife.” Steve mused to himself. You were out, but he still kept his voice soft. His hand stroked your inner thigh and you sighed, leaning to seek more of his touch.

He smiled, enjoying your reaction. He kept rubbing between your thighs, teasing reactions from you. He could smell your arousal growing, the sweet tart smell filling the air. You hummed and moved your hips for more friction. He had to capture this somehow, he was thankful for modern technology in times like these.

Later he’d sketch you in his notebook, with these pictures for inspiration. For now Steve needed to sate his urges. He pulled your dress up higher, exposing your panties. That sweet smell only got stronger, making him squeeze his cock in his jeans. He felt invigorated by it.

With your panties revealed Steve hunched over your body, pressing his nose to your thigh. He kissed further in between your legs and upwards to your center, basking in your scent. It just felt so good to be here in between your legs, he didn’t want to leave. He wished you could be awake to enjoy his mouth on you, but another time.

He took your panties and shoved them in his back pocket. Your pussy glistened in the moonlight, shining with slick. “Beautiful,” Steve whispered in awe.

He could feel your muscles tense under his fingertips where he held your thigh, fluttering as he dipped his tongue in your wetness. A siren wailed in the distance. Steve’s heart was full of love for you as he felt more of your wetness coat his tongue, so much love that it made his chest tight. He’d do anything to have you.

Steve couldn’t remember feeling like this about anyone, just tasting you brought him so much pleasure. He rutted against your mattress, grunting at the feeling of his jeans against his cock. “Sweet, sweet omega. Gonna make you mine someday.” He murmured promises against your skin.

The fact that he could make you feel good even in your sleep and hear you make such heavenly little noises at his touch had him swimming with feelings of pride and ecstasy. You were completely pliant under him and at the mercy of his tongue. His greedy hands couldn’t resist touching more of you, grabbing at your hips and ass.

He felt your hips raising off the bed just slightly, grinning at the sensation. “Oh doll, you’re too perfect.” He couldn’t wait till the day that he got to fill you with hot cum, see you grow round with his child. Keep you full for days with his knot as he made sweet love to you in the haze of heat.

Steve continued to kiss between your thighs, plump lips sucking on your clit. He moaned against you, his tongue darting inside you. He was so lucky to be the first alpha to taste you like this, he’d make sure that no one else could. He coaxed an orgasm from you with his mouth on your cunt, humming in praise as you came on his tongue. His hand was in his jeans now, fervently jerking his cock. “Yes, yes sweetheart. Cum with me, sweet ‘mega.”

He pulled back to admire his handiwork, “Next time I’ll make you cum on my cock honey,” He said, licking his lips. He just had some things he needed to take care of first.

Steve walked back to the tower a happy man, your panties in his back pocket and a smile that wouldn’t leave his face. He couldn’t wait for Valentine’s Day next year, which was about to become his favorite holiday.

You woke up the next morning feeling great, happy despite the hangover. You couldn’t exactly remember what had happened but you were sure Steve probably made your night better. You checked your phone, a text from him at the top. “Hey doll I had real fun last night, but please drink some water this morning. Let’s do it again next year.” You smiled to yourself, you could smell Steve on you. He probably took you home, ever the gentleman.

Next year, your plans were set.

#dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #my fics

215 notes · View notes