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lacroxton · 1 year ago

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Automatic Autonomic Automated Vending Machine

One of my favorite fics I wrote and also the first translation I tried. Inspired by Cyberpunk 2077, Death Stranding and Atomic Heart, it's a story about freedom, promises and the post apocalypse Terra with Vending Machine Exusiai & Messenger Texas.

Warning: Blood and Gore

Once there was a flood; A surge that gave birth to all life. Once there was a flood; A surge that selected our civilization to survive. And then there was another flood.

The flood that left nothing behind.

Later that night, Texas opened her eyes and saw two men staring at her bed, clutching a hoe and a harpoon respectively. The harpoon's tines touched both sides of her neck, and the soon-to-be murderer was tense and shaky. Texas wasn't sure whether the corners of his compressed lips were laced with excitement because the moonlight was too faint to cast a shadow.

She and Exusiai originally came to this church to escape the sandstorm. The journey to Laterano passes through vast wastelands—places that had never been favoured by Mother Nature, and would never be transformed into mobile cities. The whole world had forgotten them, but God still allowed them to survive, so the people were left with nothing but faith. They gathered together, lingering in groups of three or five, praying. No one knew what they were praying for, but they were confident that a miracle would happen one day.

It was at this time Texas and Exusiai pushed the door in. As luck would have it, this small self-rescue community had just vacated a few beds. Last week, a man had died of a hyena's sharp teeth; a mother and her daughter had died from picking poisonous sandfruits. If the food in the warehouse didn't replenish soon, everyone here would starve to death. Exusiai hence made a proposal: to exchange three nights of safe and sound sleep with hot, yummy meals.

At first, people questioned whether this was some kind of originium arts or tricks unleashed by Texas. They had never seen anyone travel with a vending machine, let alone a talking, enthusiastic, joyful vending machine. The flashing pixels would form an image of a redhead Sankta on the machine's square screen, with up to 24 combinations of facial expressions and an excellent sense of humour beyond the human level. Of course, these extra "add-ons" were shenanigans Exusiai came up with just to sound a little bit cooler. Based on her polymeric converting system, her most crucial core function was actually INSTANT COOKING : you can put any raw materials into the ingredient slot, select the recipe and wait for a few seconds; gourmet foods full of umami will instantly drop out and ready to serve. Wilted rice cobs become hearty rice balls, and expired tuna cans become creamy bowls of tuna soup. If you put in a few shrivelled berries, even the melt-in-your-mouth desserts will no longer be a luxury. Exusiai fulfilled everybody's wishes with a big smile: the first day, and the second day, until eventually, no one questioned her or their own stomach. They praised: these are the best food we have ever eaten in our lives; these are the evidence that God has come to save us.

And that was also why they would never allow the precious happy hour to come to an end. Selfishness let greed swell and fester in their hearts, finally, on the last night, they decided to take possession of Exusiai for themselves and leave Texas to Death.

Luckily, Texas had been acquainted with Death for so many years. The harpoon that choked her could've bounced off the bed, projected back the way it came, and quickly pierced the murderer's heart whenever she wanted. The guy holding a hoe beside him was even skinnier, and wielding an unfamiliar weapon in panic could only backfire. Inertia would cause that weak body to trip over the bricks behind him, inadvertently knocking over a bright oil lamp on the way, until drowning the entire church into a roaring fire.

But before all this could happen, Exusiai's voice drilled into Texas' ears. Texas tilted her head and saw the screen of Exusiai still showing a smiling face; her voice still sounded warm and joyful. She asked those two guys, and everyone in the room who pretended to be asleep: Even if you've taken me for yourselves, how do you know they won't eradicate you the same way they eradicate Texas? How can you be so sure that the fairness everyone promises will indeed be fair?

......We can get through anything as long as the Lord stays with us! Nobody could tell who shouted first in the darkness.

Is that so? Another voice came up, however, retorted, you don't think putting on this face will help you cover the fact that YOU are the thief who steals from the warehouse every chance you get, do you?

As it turns out, people's beliefs are often more vulnerable to suspicion than they could ever imagine, just as fragile as their relationships with each other.

Like something important had suddenly dawned on him, the harpoon was removed from Texas' neck and then dragged slowly toward the tall man guarding the warehouse. The hoe guy also clenched his teeth, turned to aim at the old man lying under the window who always got pardoned from labour duties due to health conditions. Their movements ceased to tremble, so the stone effigies around the church were soon stained with blood. In the midst of yelling, cursing, and killing each other, no one bothered to care that this was a place blessed by God anymore, leaving only dead bodies and pieces of flesh twisted ugly on the floor.

Then, Exusiai selected a few freshly slaughtered tenderloin, had Texas put them in her ingredient slot, removed the bones, and grilled them on both sides to make black pepper patties: crispy outside, juicy inside. Her body wasn't equipped with a gustatory system, therefore couldn't taste anything, but she hoped Texas would like it.

Such a shame it ended so soon. Exusiai's vocal compartment created a series of chewing noises. I was kinda looking forward to watching Texas fight over me.

There was no need for that. Texas divided the patties into equally small pieces with her originium sword, then sealed and packed them into a leather pouch—which would be her sole food supply for the next two days. If you're willing to go with them, she said, I won't interfere much.

What if I'm NOT willing?

The pixels that make up Exusiai's pupils had narrowed, so that her eyes could scan every frame of Texas' movements, watching her light a cigarette by the remaining flame of the oil lamp.

The cigarette seemed to have damped too badly. Texas lowered her eyebrows in silence for a long time before finally exhaling the first puff of mist.

She thought for a moment and said to Exusiai, then I will guarantee your freedom.

For a long time, Texas couldn't be sure whether adding the word "freedom" to her vocabulary would be a change for the better. But, she must admit that ever since she met Exusiai, "freedom" had always been intertwining with her life.

When she thought back to that day, Texas' memory was already a little fuzzy. She hadn't eaten a full meal for probably five or six days straight, so hungry that she couldn't even spell out a word, and every breath of air she took only made her stomach emptier. Her car crashed far away, and her package was destroyed in a cave even further. At the end of the day, only half piece of hardtack was left in her pocket. But that was the last straw Texas could grasp. She couldn't eat it yet, not in such a rush. She just needed to find a roof in the ruins of this nameless city to rest for a while; so that when she woke up, the illusion sleep brings to her brain would allow her to hold on for another day.

Texas leaned against a broken wall covered in mud and dust. She knew no one would come to save her. No one would rescue a messenger who failed her mission. Not before The Silence , and sure not for fifty years after it. The only hope was the golden sunset shining on her cheeks; Texas exhaustedly shut her eyelids, wishing it would bring her a sweet dream.

Then it brought back a terrible chunk of brownie. And a very talkative vending machine.

Exusiai had so many things to say, as if she was trying to list out all the details that did and did not happen to her life in a single sentence. She said she hadn't met a living human for fifty years—spent thirty years drifting in the sea, and twenty years drying out on the land after the flood receded. The good thing for her was that Sankta's ancestors, Aggeloi, were a kind of inorganic swarming construct floating in space, which led the modern technology of Laterano to be waterproof, and not even have to rely on electricity. By solely absorbing cosmic radiation, Laterano machines could function perfectly under almost every circumstance; some newer models could also disassemble, reorganize, polymerize, and activate any substance on the molecular level.

By conducting hundreds of millions of calculations for armageddon, Sankta's God, the supercomputer under The Basilica, had ultimately decided that the Digital Life Project was the best option with higher success rates. Even if their paradise got annihilated by the Seaborns, and their primary network connection got cut forcibly—as long as a certain number of angels' consciousness was successfully uploaded, one day, the Sanktas would return to their homeland and continue the Laterano civilization.

Exusiai was one of them.

Her consciousness was uploaded to a vending machine, which had no mobility whatsoever, nothing but to lie on her back in the ocean currents, looking up at the sky. Therefore, Exusiai had only been to places where the wind took her. The seawater licked her metal surface and plated it white with infinite waves of salt. Time has never been slower than the years stuck between gears. The wait was too long for the Sanktas to maintain their sober soul; so far, Exusiai had received 1099 neural signals from the other machines shutting themselves down—signals of solid, mutual emotions constructed by the shared memories of Sankta, which is also the confirmation of the very faith of being alive.

Every time these signals dissipated, it felt like some dull, gloomy, lifeless light spots distantly fell across the horizon. But Exusiai was looking up at the sky still. Waiting, expecting, humming while counting the seconds, and fifty years passed just like that.

Until Texas' elbow accidentally touched her button.

Exusiai said she had nothing else to give Texas as a courtesy for their first meeting, and her ingredients, the residue of fruits and dirt dropped inside her slot during all these years, were barely enough to make a brownie. It's probably gonna taste bad as hell, Exusiai added, but at least you wouldn't die from eating that.

Texas wolfed it down almost immediately. She was so, so hungry that her tastebuds no longer distinguish between good and bad, mistaking the sweetness of blood in her saliva for a chocolate flavour. She even ripped off a couple pieces of skin on her mouth as she rolled down the grassy crumbs with her teeth.

Then she licked the corners of her dry, cracked lips and asked Exusiai why would you save me, using a voice as hoarse as broken bellows.

Simple. Said Exusiai, scrutinizing the employee name tag on Texas' chest. The plastic seal was severely scratched, and so did Texas' entire body, as it was tattered and torn, revealing scabbed wounds on her shoulders and tail. I need a messenger to get me to Laterano.

But verbal promise never equals trustworthiness, Exusiai. Texas could feel the thirst now; taking carbohydrates all of a sudden with a flimsy stomach wall apparently triggered some acid reflux up to her throat. For example, I might promise you first, then drop you in the middle of nowhere halfway through.

It's your freedom to do what you want, Texas. Just like it's my freedom to trust a starving ghost lying next to Death. Exusiai didn't tell Texas what she really trusted was a pair of eyes that couldn't lie.

Then what? Texas asked. Those eyes lit up for a rare second. After I get you to Laterano?

Then a REAL piece of strawberry shortcake, of course. Said Exusiai. But if I'm in a good mood, I might also be merciful and share half of it with you.

The Lupo without a home and the Sankta without a human body had been on a long journey together ever since.

The vending machine's weight was lighter than expected. Texas quickly scavenged some iron parts and fabrics from the wreckage of the surrounding buildings; Exusiai's polymeric converting system then polished them into a brand new cart with four wheels and two strong straps. Using the rest of the materials, she even tailored a new set of well-fitting clothes for Texas. It was still a long, long way from Laterano, so they spent the daytime walking in sunlight and nighttime under the tarp by a campfire. When Texas fell asleep, Exusiai would dim her screen and lay on the ground, counting the stars.

Exusiai also cooked many, many meals for Texas. From burger and soda combo to fettuccine alfredo, from apple cheese tart to creamy mushroom soup, the chef's recommendation never repeats itself. Although the truth was, these were the foods that Exusiai wanted to eat the most, and yet she couldn't, so sending Texas to collect different ingredients and cook them was the only effective placebo for her cravings. After Texas finished a dish, Exusiai would also force her to comment on it, as if she were some kind of a regular cast on a cooking show.

Texas remembered she had watched something just like this on an old VCR when she used to eat earthworm burritos and cricket jerky back at the shelters in Columbia. That show must be about 60 to 70 years old, even older than The Silence , and the person in front of the camera with a microphone, known as the host, would use a crazy amount of fancy words to describe whatever dish served to her. In the same way that "a steak without wine isn't a good steak," all of the diners captured on screen must also demonstrate an exaggerated nodding, smiling face as if the deliciousness has blown their mind away. Nobody ever found out if those foods were indeed that delicious.

However, Exusiai's 24 pixel combinations didn't allow for such precise facial expressions. Her screen would only display a progress bar below her complacent grin—accompanied by a short piece of electric punk music that runs way off-key at the end of the bar. She was clearly neither a good host nor a good singer.

Texas, on the other hand, was neither a critic nor a liar. So she simply rated every single dish Exusiai cooked her as "tasty".

Time flew by, and they met many other people along the way, leaving new stories with new encounters. Although the flood had receded for twenty years, it was still hard for people's hearts to sprout again from the barrenness. At first, they were tormented by the never-ending hunger and fear. Then, they spent countless days and nights tearing down the fortress besieged. Finally, they returned to the surface, only to find out they must work even harder to keep themselves alive. Everything else was torturous, only the stories were glamorous, so people immediately embraced a new faith. These stories then spread further and further through the winds of the wilderness.

When the neural signal of the last Sankta's death had reached Exusiai, people started praising again: a newborn God had come to this world. God is among the machinery, with a grey wolf guarding her side. Wherever they go, there will be no worries or troubles; Wherever they stay, that place shall be the home of all joy.

People voluntarily elected the talking, enthusiastic, joyful vending machine to wield the sceptre of salvation for all mankind.

The only remaining Sankta therefore walked on earth, stretched her wings and halo, as she had become the living Laterano.

Sadly, the results of being at the center of attention were often mixed between good and bad, Texas was well aware of that. As many people accept their existence, there will only be more people coming after them, and that's how every story ends. Whenever God seems to tilt the scale to one side, those who desire to be favoured but have not been granted will automatically gather on the other side. The center of the scale is engraved with war. No one ever realized that wars have always arisen from people themselves, and have nothing to do with God, nor with Exusiai.

But Texas was not the type to guess at people's hearts. Whatever side people showed her, she would believe it until they betrayed her. That's why Texas was always covered in blood. Mostly from other people, occasionally from her own, with the crimson slicing her forehead open, drenching her hair and burying her heavy eyelids. Exusiai stood just behind her, acting as a solid wall, letting crimson handprints blend into her crimson metal. That wall was uncomfortable to lean on, and it was even colder to the touch than stone bricks, but the key selling point was that the wall could tell a lot of corny jokes. Exusiai's excellent sense of humour put Texas at ease.

While waiting for Exusiai to prepare dinner, Texas unprecedentedly had a sweet dream.

The dream was of a certain cafe recommended by another cooking show. Texas had never been to a cafe, only seen it on videotape, so the whole place was covered with an old film-like filter. But Texas did drink coffee. She remembered the coffee at the shelter as a liquid very bitter, very sour, and very astringent with no aroma at all. Not sure why it was so popular other than it keeps people awake. Thinking that maybe real coffee wasn't like this, Texas ordered another cup of brew in her dream, but it still tasted the same. She frowned, and her tail froze briefly, only to be watched by her tablemate, stifling a laugh while letting out a long gulp of air.

Texas lifted her head up. The girl on the other side of the table looked like a Sankta, with a halo, wings, striking red hair, a cheeky face and beautiful eyes. Texas didn't think she had ever met this girl before. But the subconscious reaction of the brain soon let Lupo know that the angel in front of her was indeed Exusiai. Perhaps it was because she had a delicate piece of strawberry shortcake in her hand.

Then, Exusiai took Texas's coffee cup, tore open a few small paper sacks and plastic wrappings, poured sugar and milk into it, tasted it first, and stirred it evenly with a wooden stick. This time, Texas couldn't taste the bitterness anymore. It wasn't sour, wasn't astringent, and the coffee became nutty and sweet for the first time. A sweetness that Texas could understand.

Humans are supposed to eat together. Using a mysterious tone, Exusiai in the dream scooped off the corner tip of the cake and handed it to Texas. With a voice no longer being mechanically compressed, every expression and movement of hers was so smooth. Curious about this Exusiai's touch, Texas then reached one hand out to her and realized that Exusiai's skin was much softer than her own.

If there's no one joining the table, Exusiai stopped for a while, even the best food could be unappetizing.

Texas had to admit that Exusiai was right. She realized with hindsight that her tastes had sweetened over the time being with Exusiai—she even seemed to have become a little bit like Exusiai, with a pleasant glimmer of expectation for tomorrow.

She hoped, when they arrived at Laterano, that half piece of strawberry shortcake would be just as good as the one in her dream.

Texas woke up, only to find herself lingering in that same dream once again. The light of dusk stung her eyes. She tried to stand up, but the sharp pain and exhaustion coming from all parts of her body kept tugging her down, making her realize that struggling was nothing more than a futile waste of time.

So she had to strain to roll her eyeballs and hold open her blood-slicked vision, looking around.

She was surrounded by broken statues and marble columns. Collapsed church steeples in her far distance; scarred stained glass windows and stone arches in her near distance. The building's unusual solid structure caused one-third of it to survive the devastating crash from The Silence , whereas the other ruined two-thirds had the setting sun spilling in, wrapped around by gravel.

Texas leaned against a pure, white forest. Her memories were finally starting to flow again, which was a good thing, but what wasn't so good was the large amount of viscous blood gushing out along with it. She looked down, and the bleeding holes in her body then followed suit, loosened and gurgled like a dying crimson brook, one bubble after another. Texas's clothes were tattered and torn again. Only this time, the murderers were more skillful than ever. They had waited with more cunning and purpose, laying an early ambush around Laterano, armed at military grade enough to suggest that the still-functioning secret government had sent them on this mission. Texas couldn't quite understand why a force of this size had still yet to be used on rebuilding mobile cities.

And of course, none of that mattered anymore. The crushed arm, the thigh impaled from the crook of the knee, the ripped-open liver and intestines brushed by the warm wind, none of those things mattered anymore. Texas moved her tongue laboriously, letting the blood slide across her tastebuds with her weak breath. What mattered was that she couldn't taste anything any longer.

She lost her mobility, lost her sense of taste, lying on her back, looking up at the sky, and became just as wretched as Exusiai. Texas apologized for the half piece of cake. She poked out a few fingers, broken but barely retaining the sensation, and started touching the ground, searching for the metallic surface that made her feel at peace. Her colour had long been redder than the paint on the vending machine. But Exusiai didn't say a word. She stood quietly beside Texas; as if she was just a solid wall.

Their story was never supposed to end like this.

The Sankta had sung all the songs she could, told all the corny jokes she had, and made all the food she was able to, but the Lupo right in front of her wasn't getting any better because of it. Even though Exusiai's screen clearly possessed 24 different combinations of expressions—no matter how often she switched these pixel arrangements, none of them could accurately convey the absurdly huge sense of powerlessness that had descended upon her. She judged that her internal programming had made an unfixable error, or how else would she have only learned by now, that waiting for someone to die had turned out to be so hard.

Let's just......go with the joyful face then. Texas said softly, sounding like a dimming bonfire.

Then the joy returned to Exusiai's screen. She saw the corners of Texas' mouth lift gently upward as well—Texas looked so pretty when she smiled. Exusiai thought to herself, that if her happiness could make Texas happy too, she wouldn't mind being happy forever. She just felt confused at the same time. If Texas actually died, but there was no empathy link between Lupo and Sankta, hence no light spot belonging to Texas falling across the horizon—then how exactly should Exusiai mourn her?

But Texas had made her choice long ago.

She held onto the vending machine's shell, fingers sluggishly climbing upwards, bit by bit until she reached Exusiai's ingredient slot. Having the ability to polymerize and reorganize any substance meant that, even without the supercomputer's core connected, Exusiai could recreate her original body anytime, free of mechanical constraints, if she just used a living human of comparable mass as blueprints and raw materials. Texas had known that from the beginning. She also knew that the fact Exusiai had never brought this up, was because they promised to go to Laterano together. For the cake, apparently.

A pair of eyes that couldn't lie and a mouth telling only the truth. The same goes for both Exusiai and Texas. So, Texas chose to honour the other promise she made to the Sankta.

......Eat me up, Exusiai. One of Texas' arms stuck into the vending machine, and the other encircled the shell. She finally managed to straighten her neck, then pressed her groggy head against the conversion button, shivering, face turning sideways. As the soft Lupo ears snugly against Exusiai's hot metal surface, all she could hear was the creaking sound of mechanical parts and the off-key music singing "now processing" to the air.

I WILL GUARANTEE YOUR FREEDOM.

The human in the story closed her eyes in relief and chose to give God a hug.

Exusiai's gears mashed through Texas' young body at full speed. Hair, flesh, organs, and all different kinds of bones. In the iteration of death and rebirth, the piercing roar flew over Texas's lightly scratched ulna, half-healed ribs, worn-out cartilages and spiderweb-cracked femur......But without any exception, every bone of her was holy white, the same colour as those sun-bathed stone tiles on the dome of the Memorial Hall. They were reduced to pieces in unison with a short notification tone, becoming sustenance for Exusiai, light and airy, just like the last bit of frosting sprinkled on a dessert.

As the remnants of the secret operation squad scoured the ruins, the bloodied Lupo with two originium swords had already disappeared. Instead, a true Sankta with wings and halo pointed a pitch-black rifle at their nose.

Sankta's hair was striking red.

Sankta's eyes were beautifully shined.

Yet in this golden sunset, no one could truly see Sankta's face.

Exusiai could never figure out, why they had such a look of fear on their faces when she simply just returned all the arrows, bullets and originium arts back to where they belonged?

Unfortunately, the only Texas who knew the answer to that question could no longer answer her. It was as if Texas had never been born on this earth—and no one, no one except Exusiai, knew about her name, her past, or her future. The last thing left to prove that she had existed, was the tattered and torn clothes on Exusiai. The gift that Texas had worn for a long, long time, and now it had finally been gifted back to the owner.

The sunset had come to an end.

In the long night, Exusiai tucked her hands into her pockets, dragging her narrow shadow forward, alone.

Ahead of her, was The Basilica of Laterano that buried the supercomputer's core; And behind her, was nothing but a silent, barren, white and lonely land.

Strawberry shortcake didn't seem so delicious all of a sudden, Exusiai said to herself, thoughts interrupted by a small, firm chunk hidden deep in her pockets.

—Exusiai found the half piece of hardtack in Texas' jacket.

Doing her best to mimic the movements of Texas, Exusiai peeled off the outer wrapping and took a bite, chewing very, very slowly. Tens of thousands of taste signals on her tongue fed back to her brain, that it was "salty with a hint of sweetness". Perhaps sesame was also on the ingredient list, but time and the poor assembly line had far grounded away its aroma. It tasted hard and certainly dry, with crumbs flying everywhere in her mouth. Definitely didn't look good enough for an appealing advertisement.

But the flavour was so familiar. Exusiai thought, fingers rubbing against the fabric.

Till she eventually realized it was the flavour of being alive.

It was the flavour of Texas.

Exusiai then shed her first tear, declaring that hardtack was the most delicious food on earth.

END.

Lacroxton

#texusiai #ektk #Texas #Exusiai #arknights #arknights texas #arknights exusiai #post apocalypse

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everythingismadeofchaos · 5 months ago

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Look, I'm not trans. I'm not lgbtq+ at all. I'm a pretty boring middle-aged American hetero white guy. The only thing I can remotely say parallels this in my own life is that I'm an atheist, and atheists in the United States face quite a bit of discrimination ... but the truth is I've almost never had to deal with that apart from a few uncomfortable conversations with my parents. I used to argue with them when I was 12 or 13, but I gave that up pretty fast, and as an adult it just doesn't come up very much. I've never run for political office or anything.

But I can tell you this. If you have a private reason why you want to do something and it's a good reason, if you're feeling unfairly persecuted by other people, once people start treating you that way, your social obligation to them to be completely honest about your private life goes utterly out the window. You have to look out for yourself and the people you love, and that's it. Lying to the unjust is as morally justifiable as rescuing an infant from a burning building. Honesty is a tremendous virtue and of great value to society, but if your society sucks you have to do whatever you can to fight for what you know is right, and that includes lying to people sometimes.

Make something up. You want to live in Germany because you like the beer better. You want to live in Germany because you met someone there and you think it might get serious. The job market. Hell, it could be a hobby or something; maybe you really like flying kites and you made contact with a kite flying club there. Who cares? Do what you have to do to look out for yourself and your loved ones, and if that includes keeping your own motivations secret, well they're yours to keep. Absolutely 100% lie if it protects you and it's the right thing to do in the circumstances, and it sounds like it is.

I really really do not envy you and the position you're in. My own demons are internal, and I wouldn't wish them on anybody, but most people have something going on inside; often the most well-adjusted person you meet might turn out to have their own internal darkness that they deal with every day. So don't think that you're alone. You're not alone. Once you get to Germany, meet up with some other trans people or whatever kind of community you can find; find your people and live your life and find happiness. Do what you have to do. Nobody else is looking out for you. I'm sorry that's true, but it is true. It would be great if the norm in society was that everybody just helped out everybody else who was in dire need, but right now people are literally being murdered and the rest of us do nothing, or precious little. You're just not going to find anybody else to help you out, so you have to help yourself.

And who knows? Maybe you'll meet someone in Germany that you want to stay with forever and it won't even be a lie. Or maybe you'll get a job there that's a permanent thing, or find a career path at a university, or a charity you want to work for, or maybe you just get a job at an art gallery and for the first time in your entire life you feel like a complete human being. No decent person could blame you for wanting to stay.

I think I've told you good luck whatever you do several times, but here it is again. I really hope you succeed.

this post hasn't left my mind since i've first saw it

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teezmie · 3 years ago

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Isn't it heartwarming when writers post their first work and leave notes like; this is their first-ever fic, hoping that readers would love it, apologizing for any possible errors, and so on. They're so so so approachable and optimistic that I just wanna fhffhfgh argh! because aw~ cute

#𓍯 rants by mie☕#makes me smile every time i read those adorable notes #you guys are so precious and i wish you nothing but luck in your life

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btsnoonasquad · 2 years ago

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DISCLAIMER: I was actually inspired by @monimonimoon’s version of this request. I had a TOTALLY different idea and here she goes, just blowing it out of the water. Mine was clearly a lot different but I HAD to try the other side of the spectrum. Forgive me, for this is the first story I have posted.

Also, thanks to @gimmethatagustd for all the positive encouragement to try to keep writing. This isn’t the story I originally talked about (that monster is still in progress and … it’s gonna be LONG) but here is a little something to at least get me started!

And to my friends that I don’t have on Tumblr for encouraging me to write as well.

I also apologize for my awkward writing style. Normally it is a little different? Maybe not… either way, I wish you luck. It hasn’t been properly edited and I am winging it. This is the second draft and then I decided second draft was good!

THE NIGHTINGALE

Pairing: Jungkook x f!reader

Genre: I have no idea. Technically, enemy to lovers? Actually, more like annoyed to crushing? Fluff, I suppose. (I’m new to labeling this stuff; this is a disaster. XD), Slice of life.

Content: Older reader (than Jungkook, but not much older), being woken up? Y’all, this is harder than I thought it would be.

Word Count: 8,516

The groan that left you sounded inhumane. It was a combination of so many emotions - but mostly disbelief. Because you have GOT to be kidding. There was no way that this occurrence was happing yet AGAIN. Your rest was being interrupted - woken up by a voice. Now, it was a beautiful, nice sweet voice, that you will admit. But once again, it has pulled you out of your precious slumber when you have the dreaded work morning coming at you like a defensive team.

Why that particular description? Because of your lack of sleep, it feels like you are about to be pummeled by the event called life, and there was nothing you could do about it. And your body shook with attempted tears, though they avoided you. So instead, you settled for what any reasonable adult would: You trashed around, kicking your feet and your arms as if you were a toddler being denied chocolate in a candy store.

Normally you would just tense up and try not to behave like a child with no sensibility yet, but gosh darn it, you have a report you needed to work on that Jessi begged you to make perfect since she had a meeting with the higher-ups coming soon.

Cruel. This was CRUEL and unusual punishment! It had to be. You looked up at your ceiling, asking anyone why they were subjecting you to this. How does one get woken up by a gorgeous voice - wasn’t it supposed to put you to sleep rather than wake you up? This was all sorts of wrong and you demanded to speak to whoever was getting so much joy out of your misery.

After not getting any answers, you groaned once more as you turned to face your alarm clock - you needed to give your phone a break; you had millions of alarms on there - and glared at the numbers that taunted you, teased you, and was clearly laughing in your face brightly. There were only a few hours left until you had to drag yourself out of bed and get ready for the workday.

You were beyond pouting at this point. And it was all because of the new guy.

Now, he wasn’t that bad. This was the only complaint you really had. In fact, when it comes to neighbors, you have been quite blessed. Your previous neighbor was good. Though, to be honest, he was barely even home, which kinda made it perfect for you. Apparently, he worked for some music company and was out most of the time.

You had a theory that he only had the apartment so he could legally say he had an address and a home because that was how often he was home: It felt like never. You originally had been a mix of feelings when he moved out. That may or may not have been because you had a SLIGHT crush on him.

And that was no fault of your own: his demeanor was one that drew attention. Sometimes he seemed hard and like he would be annoyed at you for even looking at him, but there were moments when he looked so soft and all you wanted to do was lightly scratch his head as he lay on your lap and listen for a purr. He was just a genuinely nice guy who just happened to keep to himself. (Your mailman had a bad habit of putting his mail in your mailbox sometimes, so you were used to giving him his mail. If he wasn’t home, you got into the habit of putting it under his door with a sticky note. And you used to get some sticky notes on your door in thanks. You could survive for weeks when he did that.)

Though your friends teased you greatly about it, thinking it would help you encourage you to do something about it. But alas, it was not destined - plus, you liked the boundary a bit. Again, he was nice, but he didn’t seem like he was your type. Perfect for crushing, but unsure if an actual thing would be advisable.

With all that said - Yoongi NEVER affected your rest. You got steady sleep, even when he came home at ungodly hours. He didn’t sing or make enough noise to arouse you from your adventures within dreamland. No. The most he ever did was cause a loud sound when he crashed into his bed. And this barely ever woke you up. The couple of times it may have, you could go back to sleep, making you question if you even heard it the next morning.

(Those also tended to be the days when the two of you would leave your apartments simultaneously and exchange some neighborly greetings - you were on cloud nine those days. You couldn’t hide how giddy you were after those at work, which was probably the source and start of the teasing.)

So you were very surprised the day you came home one day and saw a ton of boxes, Yoongi’s door open, and his friends going back and forth as he continued to back. Though, he was kind enough to let you know that day that he had a younger friend who would be moving in. He even made sure to mention how your new neighbor was a good kid who tended to keep to himself, so you wouldn’t really have to worry about him. Though Yoongi did ask you to keep an eye out on him since we was a little younger - which you obviously agreed to.

And here we are now, you about to cry over your lack of sleep - if your body would just allow it - and the want to get some sort of rest before the little time you have left disappears. You almost wanted to laugh at the irony of Yoongi’s request instead of cry because you have never even SEEN your new neighbor. The only thing you knew about him - besides some of the tidbits that Yoongi told you - is that his name is Jungkook. And you knew that because the mail issue still happens from time to time (and as the nice neighbor you are, you sliding them under his door with a sticky note tradition has been kept alive).

You haven’t seen him, but man, can you hear him. You shoved a pillow over your head, trying to block out the angelic voice that came through the walls, placing it within the hallow that is currently your mind to haunt you. Under any other circumstance, you would be highly enjoying this - you honestly would. He has decent taste in music (though so much Charlie Puth, you wish he’d lay off the Puth), and sometimes he sang much better than the original. But the TIMING is what killed you.

First off, how the HELL does a college student who worked night shifts at a convenience store - information provided to you by Yoongi - have enough energy to be singing like this?!? You remember those days since it had only been a couple of years. You were so tired just thinking about it, and you had slept as soon as you got home, barely managing to somehow clean yourself up some days. Having both classes and a job was EXHAUSTING.

As you brushed away the shudders that had overcome you when thinking back on those hard and trying times, your brain noted that the singing had been reduced to a humming. You perked as you realized that his routine may be over soon - and then the sounds of the squeaking pipe signaling he was in the bathroom to probably take a show. You mentally celebrated - and possibly did a fist pump - as these were sounds you were accustomed to and would be able to sleep through.

Finally, you had enough quiet to squeeze in those last chances of sleep-

No. NO. How is it that your alarm is already going off? You just BLINKED and-

You looked at your nightstand once more to see if it was a cruel joke. But no, those mocking numbers flashed at you, stating that you had indeed rested for at least an hour and that you truly had to get up and prepare to adult today. You couldn’t help yourself as you threw a pillow at the connecting wall between you and the punk who had caused you to lose precious and much-needed time with your eyes shut.

Of course, he wouldn’t hear it thump - it was a pillow. But it helped to somehow cement in you that this couldn’t go on for much longer. You have had enough.

Or so you kept telling yourself as you debated if just rolling out of bed and rolling towards the bathroom was a legitimate option instead of walking.

—----------------

A loud guffaw came from over your cubicle walls, and your cubicle neighbor - and friend - was draped over it, causing you to jump into a proper sitting position. Your blinking eyes tried to take in the scene to figure out what all just happened as you subtly wiped the side of your mouth, just in case. After assessing what state you and your desk were in, you were able to figure out you had somehow drifted off while typing.

It was kinda obvious considering the row of ;;;;;;;; that littered your screen.

Why were you like this again?

“That bad again, huh,” the voice happily cackled, reminding you who had woken you up.

Once upon a time, you used to admire your co-worker’s sunny morning deposition. With as much as Taehyung claims it could be hard for him to get up in the morning, he always seemed so prepared and chipper as soon as he strutted into the office. You once asked him his secret, and he replied, ‘tons of soda.’ At the time, you had laughed heartily, thinking he was joking, but one day he showed you his mug that he brought in every morning and was at his desk throughout the day.

Your mouth had about dropped off when you discovered that it was indeed filled with Coca-Cola instead of coffee. Though these days, it was Coke Zero because he didn’t want to die from sugar - his words exactly.

However, this morning, with your limited brain capacity, a looming deadline to help out your other friend (and manager), and clearly not enough caffeine in your body, his grand disposition left you more of a sour taste of annoyance - and it was clear that your face was hiding nothing after he winced. As he looked down and up, you could tell he was mentally debating if it was worth staying up to talk or slowly sinking and disappearing behind the wall and avoiding whatever shots were aimed towards him with your eyes.

He chose the option that may lead to death, the brave soul. And to acknowledge his moment of courage, you responded with the stiffest nod that made you reach up and rub your neck, which in turn made him chuckle. “You know, you could just talk to him-” he started, having another ounce of adventure left in him.

This made you sigh as you looked up, still rubbing your neck. “I know, I know,” you admit, muttering. “You and Jessi tell me the SAME thing. And I swear to you I actually am planning to. If he sings again tonight, I am stomping my way over to his place and possibly kick down his door,” you replied, hiding your face from Taehyung’s knowing look.

Because you both know there was no way you were kicking the poor kid’s door down.

Taehyung took the opportunity to look at your screen and gasped, causing you to worriedly look at him, then follow his line of sight. “Speaking of Jessi, please tell me that report isn’t for her,” he said, a dramatic scene of horror and disappointment being broadcasted to a few of the other fellow cubical neighbors.

You were frowning - okay, maybe pouting - as you looked at it. Yeah, it needed work, but you were going to fine-tune it when you could. You just needed the outline and basics and then worked off of it. “Well, it isn’t done yet Tae-”

He tsked at you. “Our dear manager isn’t going to let you slide if you turn in that mess-”

You groaned, knowing he was right, and you plopped forward, your forehead making a clear thunking sound, emphasizing your embarrassing defeat. “You know better than that Taehyung. It’s just the rough copy, I swear-”

“You know that is due in like…. An hour right,” he asked, cutting you off.

THAT made you sit up and look at him with wide eyes, horror and panic shining as clear as day. “You. Are. Kidding me… right,” a shocked whisper that sounded like a victim who clearly knew their time was up. Please, PLEASE let him just be messing with you.

He gave you a knowing look as he lowered himself back down behind the wall. This made you slowly turn your head to look at the time on your computer and somehow held back a scream of dread. Why must all clocks be against you?

“At least I am awake NOW,” you mumbled, your hyper-focus kicking in. Call it your sense of survival re-engaging as your fingers went into hyperdrive, your eyes scanning and correcting as you went along, putting you on track for the fastest report ever recorded on your floor.

“Maybeeeee I should have started with that,” Taehyung’s voice came from the other side. You took a piece of wadded paper and threw it over, a splash hitting your ears and a smirk appearing on your face as he made a sound of unsuspected betrayal.

“My drink!”

—------------------------------------

When you got back home, the siren call of the couch could not be beaten as you somehow managed your feet to take steps towards it. When your body deemed it close enough, you flopped onto it, face first, shoes sliding off your feet as they floundered over the armrest. Okay, so this wasn’t the most comfortable position in the world, but man, did you just need to throw yourself onto something. You had BARELY made the timeline for your report for the new client (they wanted to address the problem they were having and the training options available and come up with a few possible timeline options for a solution. When you signed up for the Learning and Performance department, you never would have guessed it would be like this!), and Jessi had made a face that you knew meant she wanted to talk to you about whatever was going on.

And you also knew that it was the same issue you have had before, and it just - just -

You groaned because you KNEW a reasonable solution. It just… it….

It wasn’t that easy!

In an odd act of defiance, you managed to wriggle-worm your way up so your whole body was comfortably on the sofa as you debated how to actually address the said issue. It was a minor issue with your neighbor, but it was starting to bleed over into other aspects of life. Worst part? It wasn’t like you hated it! He genuinely had a great, amazing, ear-catching voice. It was fantastic. You would love to listen to it during the day - not at 2 AM. Or whatever sacrilegious time it appeared.

Maybe you should stop calling it angelic because it came at an evil time. What was a way to adjective-ise Siren? Sirenic? No, that definitely didn’t sound real… was it? Oh god, you were way too tired to even Google that madness.

Then it hit you - Nightingale. You could call him the nightingale. It wasn’t bad, just it happened at night when most people slept. Okay. So you had to figure out how to deal with your nightingale so it wouldn’t drive you crazy.

And that solved NOTHING. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought of talking to him about it before - it was just all about timing. When you were awake, he was sleeping because his classes started later in the morning to help balance the fact that he had the graveyard shift at work.

Speaking of, doesn’t that mean he was closer to finishing college, right? Because otherwise, how would he have such leniency or understand how to work his schedule so it would be that way?

No, FOCUS Y/N. Back to solution finding! So, even though he woke you up at ridiculous times (Who the HELL decided it was okay for human beings to do anything at that ungodly, evil, inhumane hour? People who decided this should be a thing should be PUNISHED!), you didn’t have the heart to interrupt his sleep as you getting ready to go to work. And talking to him before you went to work was the only time that seemed that both of you were at home.

You quickly sat up, almost hearing your friends’ voices in your ears. Honestly, waking him up ONCE to let him know how it was affecting you wasn’t bad! You were doing it to let him know how inconsiderate he was to the working world adults who had to be awake for the grueling office work.

He knew he had neighbors, so why was he singing loudly like that? He knew people were functioning at a different schedule than he was - HE was the one with the odd schedule. So why were YOU being considerate about HIS sleep when he clearly didn’t care about yours?

These streams of thoughts were psyching you up so you could address this tomorrow morning because though people didn’t realize it - okay, it was obvious to everyone who knew you but still! - you were not one who sought confrontations. You did whatever you could to not create them. Maybe if you saw him in the hallway, you could have casually brought it up or mentioned it, but noooooo, his schedule almost seemed similar to Yoongi’s, where he was gone a fair amount. Or at least when he was home was when you weren’t.

Except you knew when he came home because the Nightingale sang at a stupid time in the morning.

Right. You could do this. It was not just for your well-being but for your co-workers, job, quality of work, and friends! You knew you weren’t as patient as you needed to be for your job - again, being a trainer seemed so different on paper - and this was not a sustainable way to be for much longer!

Your hands were held up in tight fists as if you were cheering yourself on, finally having enough adrenaline pumping through you that if he were to come home at that very moment, you would have marched over that very instant and settled this.

And that made you deflate a little bit because, again, it occurred to you that this was part of why you hadn’t done anything sooner. This Jungkook fellow wasn’t home. Not yet. And wouldn’t be until the wee hours of the morning.

Sighing, you plopped back onto your sofa, letting your body become boneless as you thought about the best way to handle this situation. There were times when he didn’t wake you - maybe even he has his limits and just slept instead of a nightly routine that included singing.

Or, you know, maybe those were his days off?

Either way, with all this thinking, planning scenarios, or just imagining riding in on a white steed, none of it really mattered because the truth is simple: He isn’t home right now, so you were at an impasse. And this was not something you just put on a sticky note and post on his door. He deserved to at least hear from you in person about it. Honestly, you just didn’t want to seem passive-aggressive. You did NOT need to become one of those notes shared online.

With this decision, you stood up and dragged your feet to the kitchen to reheat the leftover pizza from the previous night. Maybe you’d be lucky - maybe tonight will be one of the nights where Nightingale takes pity on you.

—--------------------

Why did you ever believe you had any sort of luck? Because this night was obviously NOT a night that you would have that sort of miracle happen.

You originally woke up confused and lost, as if trying to figure out where you were. This wasn’t where you were previously, and where was the person you were talking to-

Ah yes. Right. You had been dreaming. And there was something so cool going on in your dream, an adventure you almost could say, and it was just one of the most submissive dreams ever - but the longer you were awake, the faster the details of said dream slipped out of your head and disappeared into the darkness. Goodbye amazing cast of characters with a supposed purpose, hello real world and exhaustion. Soon, you were just laying in bed, eyes heavy, trying to figure out what dragged you into this world.

“Don’t, don’t you worry,

I’ll be there,

Whenever you want me.

I need somebody who can love me at my worst,

No, I’m not perfect,

But I hope you see my worth.”

Oddly enough, this made you smile, and you just couldn’t help yourself. God, he truly did sound amazing. He seems genuine while he was singing - the lyrics struck an odd chord with you. It honestly made you snort when your brain registered what was being said. Promising that he would put ‘you’ first.

If he really was going to put you first, he’d let you SLEEP-

Damn his heavenly delivery - Oh snap, you ARE tired if you let that word slip mentally! Okay, you couldn’t let this end like every other time. You couldn’t let it be like this anymore. You flung your blankets off of you, ignoring the chill of the night and the fact you aren’t fully covered - because seriously, those who sleep in long sleeves and long pants clearly couldn’t be trusted; you needed to have the option to freeze your leg or arm off if you wanted - and started walking out of your room as if you were preparing for war!

All the while resisting snapping and whistling along in time with his singing because he really was KILLING it!

Before you realized it, you were standing in front of his door, the cold finally seeping through your skin and bringing you back to reality from whatever thoughts and debates that had been raging within your mind. No, you needed sleep, darn it, and tonight was going to be the last night you woke up because of his singing.

The thought made you slightly sad for a moment, which made you shake your head at the absurdity! You need sleep, darn it, to function!

You knocked - harder than you meant to be honest, darn the cold that somehow made your hand heavier than normal - and shivered, rubbing your hands on your upper arms, trying to warm yourself up, as you waited for him to come. You paused to see if maybe you could hear some footsteps or any sign of him coming, but since there appeared to be no noise, you raised your hand to knock once more -

Only for the door to open. Your chattering teeth stopped as you were greeted with a sight you weren’t expecting.

There was an angelic person standing in front of you, the lights from his apartment really highlighting an ethereal glow about him. He was handsome, looking at you with wide, innocent eyes. His mouth was opened a little bit in shock as if he wasn’t expecting someone to actually be there when he opened the door.

And you just…

Stared. At him. Because holy cow. Did you die? Is this angel here to pick you up from this delusion and take you to a better place? Did you do something to earn a spot in a better place? And he looked VERY capable of picking you up. Though he had a loose shirt on, it was obvious he had muscles; his short sleeves showed more than enough arm muscles to have you figure out the rest of him is probably well-built. Hell, his shoulders were so wide-

Wait. Do angels have tattoos? Is that a thing now? Wow, heaven really is catching up to the times huh…

His pants were baggy enough to hide everything. Pity, because-

Oh. My. GOD. WAIT. You blinked a few times, trying to see if your eyes were pulling a prank on you once it settled on you that there was no way you died out here just knocking on a door. You FINALLY moved the hand that had been up to knock once more and adjusted it, so it was rubbing your eyes. Because there was no way the universe gave you ANOTHER super attractive neighbor that you somehow never saw.

“Uh… hello?”

His voice sounded thoroughly confused as you stood there, and though it was gentle, it snapped you back to why you were there. His voice was so nice-

NOT THE TIME FOR THIS!

“.... Keeping me up.”

Wait. Who just spoke? No, oh god, please, no. That was YOUR voice and you obviously did not make any sense. It wasn’t a full sentence. It did not explain a single thing. If anything, it made you look insane. Right?

“S-sorry,” your neighbor nearly whispered, tilting his head, clearly not understanding what was going on. He looked adorable -

No. You need to make sense! It was perfectly reasonable that he has no idea what is going on because what you said had no context, so, therefore, made no sense. “Sorry, let me try that again,” you managed, your brain finally catching up and your tongue and mouth somehow received the whole message.

This, this was better. Let’s watch and see if you could continue this progress.

You took a deep breath as you tried to keep looking at him - seriously though, being this good-looking was ridiculous - and you finally started speaking in complete sentences like an adult. “Your singing, it keeps waking me up,” you said breathlessly.

Breathlessly? At least you said it, you suppose. But you needed to have a discussion about this later - Who are you kidding? What is this man doing to the circuitry in your brain? Clearly, he has fried it.

It also occurred to you that this was a lot tamer than the whole spiel you had originally planned and prepared for. But it was enough as his eyes got wide as if he had been smacked as he backed up and rubbed the back of his neck. “I-I-”

He was stuttering. Oh no. No. This wasn’t the reaction you had prepared yourself for. This was a complete 180 almost or at least 90 degrees.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you could hear me,” he finally finished, looking down, a little ashamed of himself.

You couldn’t help yourself as you took a step forward, a hand on his arm to comfort him. You didn’t mean to hurt the puppy! “No no no, no big deal. I just wanted to let you know that I could hear you and ask if you could not sing so loud - especially at this time of night. Or morning. Or whatever it is,” you stated.

You felt HORRIBLE. He honestly had no idea that he could be heard. Oh, these walls were much thinner than he probably realized. “Don’t get me wrong! You sing wonderfully! Beautiful, really and if it wasn’t waking me up in the middle of the night, I would appreciate it and be a fan. But I just need to sleep because of work and all-”

You noted that you started rambling, but you also knew that you couldn’t stop it. You were tired, but most of all, you felt bad because he seemed too innocent and genuinely apologetic about it and you just hadn’t wanted it to turn out like this.

Jungkook managed to look up when your freezing cold hand was on his arm, a weak smile came to his face. “Thanks for the compliment, and I really am sorry. I didn’t know, and - and I’ll keep it down.”

His voice had a soft feel to it right then, and god, did it pull at your heartstrings.

No. Nope! You cannot do this again. You cannot fall for this boy-next-door once more. You cannot keep having useless and stupid crushes on every nice guy who moves next door! You quickly withdrew your hand once you realized where you had placed it, and it must have been extremely sudden because he looked shocked as he watched your hand move away. “Yeah, just… maybe if you could… change your singing time?”

Oh this was turning pathetic really quick. “I am so sorry, I just, I think I am tired and I need to reast and I just - and letting all this cold night air get into your home, and I’m just going to leave and thanks for your consideration,” you mumbled as you took a step back.

You can escape now and not say anything else. You can redeem yourself - “Good luck with your studies and uh - again, you have a nice singing voice, just please not at 2 in the morning and I’m good. Yeah. That. Bye.”

Nope. There goes redemption. And it was obvious how nervous you were as your voice had shaken right before you quickly scurried away to your door and shut it behind you without looking at his expression. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on breathing normally as your back was splayed against the door, your arms out as if you were trying to keep out a monster, your legs slowly giving out as your body crawled in decent towards the floor. That had to be one of the most embarrassing moments you have ever experienced - even more embarrassing than when you saw Yoongi leave his apartment and just stared at him with your mouth open.

You slapped your hands to your face, that memory being the cherry on top, the sound resounding in your apartment as you mentally asked the universe what did you do wrong to deserve such horrifically embarrassing moments such as this. In fact, why TWO? Same apartment even! Two good-looking neighbors who were way out of your league?

The groan that escaped you was because you knew you would have to share this tragedy with another attractive male because he was one of your closest friends, and he would definitely not let you live this down. And it would be ten times worse if he doesn’t hear about it from you.

(Yes, you and Taehyung are friends, but you knew he was attractive - the comments Jessi made before she, too, became friends and the looks he gets at the office made it obvious. Plus, you had eyes! You’d be stupid to not admit your friend was good-looking.)

Is there a way to edit details so it wasn’t so embarrassing and make sure that Taehyung didn’t catch onto your little white lie?

No. Of course not. That man is almost a lie detector. He would know if you were holding out on him.

You glanced at the time on your microwave as you debated if there was enough time to prepare yourself for both of your friends’ reactions to this disaster. Most likely not, but maybe some sleep would allow you to think so in a few hours.

—------------

Taehyung laughed so loudly at the lunch table that it made everyone in the vicinity look over. Once you gave in and told him the full version, the only one who seemed to be on your side was Jessi, as she gave him an exasperated look.

“You already bring enough attention to our table Mr. Greek God, but do you really have to laugh that loudly at Y/N’s expense? She is horrified, and I don’t need to field questions about if you two are dating or not. It’s bad enough people bug me to try to see if I can help them get close to you,” she stated as she tried to hide her own smirk. Oh, bless her for trying to hide her amusement at least.

… Wait, people try to have Jessi help them with Taehyung? Hold ON. Did people ask her if you and Taehyung were dating before?

“First, don’t think you can butter me up by calling me Mr. Greek God, Miss Manager. I will not be deterred,” Taehyung responded, winking at Jessi after wiping the tears from his eyes, which made her roll hers but smile as she slowly mixed her salad with her fork.

You eyed her food. She hated plain green salads, yet here she was, trying to diet yet again. You wanted to be supportive, but the looks she gave the leaves (as she called them) were ones that reminded you how much she detested it. Kale was not her friend.

“And it isn’t that bad Y/N,” Taehyung started, getting your attention once more. “Mostly because you can blame a lot of that on being tired. And honestly, it is understandable, since most people are not functional that early in the morning. Plus, I think he’s more embarrassed by the fact he was caught singing so often. On TOP of that, it woke someone up. I would be more mortified if I was him,” he added.

He then took a happy big bite of one of the chicken strips he had in front of him for lunch, humming in satisfaction as he watched you for your reaction.

“You think HE’S more embarrassed,” you scoffed. “Highly doubt it. Did you forget the part where I continuously kept telling him that I think he is a great singer?”

Taehyung nodded as he licked his lips. “Yup,” he replied, popping his ‘p’. “He might be the shy type that never really wanted an audience. He was singing in the supposed safety of his own home, and according to what you said, he had no idea that anyone could hear him. Obviously no one brought it up or told him before so he just - kept with it.”

Jessie eyed his tenders almost with jealousy, then looked to her own salad. She looked at his face, took in all of him, and pouted. “You disgust me,” she sighed.

He looked at her confused, his mouth a little open, as he tried to figure out what in the world he said to earn such disgust. Jessi motioned at him, moving her fork up and down, suggesting his whole being. “How do you look like that, and heat like THAT,” she stated, glaring at his tenders. “Life isn’t fair.”

You nodded in agreement - about life not being fair. “Yeah, like how do I get these handsome neighbors that I never see? And when I do, boom. I mean, really? I am doomed.”

This made Taehyung choke on his drink, trying not to laugh. “Wait, are you still hung up on Yoon-”

You quickly reached up and covered Taehyung’s mouth while making the shushing sound, completely forgetting that this may draw even more attention to your group when people finally started to lose interest. “We do not speak of said crush ever again. He’s getting popular and I do not need this to somehow reach his ears. Do you hear me?”

You gave Taehyung a look until he nodded, his wide eyes almost making you break the solemn character you were trying to maintain.

With his confirmation, you sat back down with a smile and wiped your hands on your work bottoms. “Good. Plus, I am actually over that now. Having some distance helped with that. My head is clearer without his presence around so I was able to finally just - let the crush pass. Plus, honestly, I know we would not have worked.”

Jessi snorted as she moved her salad around more with her fork. “I’m more surprised that Tae didn’t lick your hand. You must’ve really surprised him.”

Taehyung slowly turned his head to look at her, shock and surprise clearly written all over his face. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

That made Jessi laugh this time as she finally took another bite of her salad. Her smile made it look like she might finally be enjoying it today. It was because she was enjoying time with you and Taehyung, but hey, you could wish her enjoyment from that evil she was attempting to consume. “You can try it next time someone tries to cover your mouth.”

Taehyung made a disgusted face. “But their hands ight be filthy! I trust Y/N’s hands.”

You groaned and gave him an unamused look as you chewed your own meal. Once your mouth was clear, you couldn’t help but say, “Noted,” as you gave him a straight face and took another bite.

“I offer great information and advice and this is how your thank me? I am the one who will be noting Y/N,” he replied, then dramatically took another bite of his tender.

Both you and Jessi looked at each other and couldn’t help it anymore. Another bout of laughter came from all three of you. This is why they were your friends, they always could help you out one way or another. If it wasn’t great advice - and let’s face it, it normally was - at least they made you feel better and accepted.

That afternoon’s meeting about classes went a lot better.

—------------------------

You were still smiling when you got home and happily put your stuff down, just feeling the warmth and joy of your friends. Today, you had energy. It was a well-needed pick-me-up, honestly, and you had originally been drained from embarrassment from this morning - yes that IS a thing! - that you had slept well the last couple of hours to escape reality. So it all felt like a dream; maybe it wasn’t as bad as you had originally thought it was.

You didn’t realize it, but you were humming a song you had recently heard. It was the “We don’t talk anymore” by Charlie Put featuring Selena Gomez. She saved that song, and honestly, it was one of the few you enjoyed from him.

And you were so absorbed in the moment that you started singing aloud while you were trying to remember where you had heard this song and why it came to mind. It honestly made no sense. You didn’t seek out this song in particular and don’t recall it playing anywhere. Why was this song stuck in your head? You thought back, trying to recall if you had heard it on the radio or even at the office -

It was then that it hit you.

HE was singing it a few days ago. Ah, what a shame that you will probably not hear his voice again. He had really killed it. In fact, it might be because of him that you actually like this song! This revelation almost made you drop the spoon that you had been using to mix the shrimp you were cooking. He sang it so well that it just stuck with you, so you sang what little you remembered. It was a duet and you debated continuing alone when another voice joined you at what would have been Selena’s part.

“I just hope you’re lying next to somebody,

Who knows how to love you like me,

There must be a good reason that you’re gone.

Every now and then I think you might want me to,

Come show up at your door,

But I’m just too afraid that I’ll be wrong.”

This time you knocked over the lid you had beside you on the counter. That… that was Jungkook’s voice! Oh my GOD! He’s home?? And he heard you singing? AFTER you asked him to NOT to (at crazy hours, but STILL).

You were ready to die.

As you were debating what to do at this point and freaking out with your whole being, a knock came at your door. You winced as a loud CLASH happened right beside you - your lid dropped again. You debated picking it up or going to the door. The debate was obviously as you physically walked toward the door to turn around randomly to start heading to the lid, to turning right back around towards the door. It must have been quite a sight if anyone could see you. Finally, you realized someone is just hanging out there, hearing the chaos and the footsteps, with no idea what was going on. And that someone was possibly and probably the attractive male neighbor you finally met at, like …. Some ridiculous time early this morning.

You were chanting in your mind to please be wrong when you opened the door - to be greeted by the exact person you were expecting.

But his demeanor was completely different. When was he this tall? And he had piercings in his ears. And oh, there were more tattoos on his arm than you originally thought. It was a sleeve, you had missed some of it earlier. And wow, he didn’t seem like the angel he did this morning. Yes, he LOOKED the same technically, but there was just a different feel, and oh my god, you are looking at him again!

But who would blame you? He had his hands in his black sweatpants, a semi-cocky smile, and his eyes were shining with a bit of glee. Mischievous glee. And again, was he really this tall this morning? You had expected the angel again, and you got - this. And you had no complaints. He looked even BETTER than you remembered.

You know what, screw you universe. Screw. You.

You opened your mouth to apologize, but then your tongue froze. Why would you apologize? This is a normal time of day, it wasn’t abnormal and perfectly reasonable time to make some noise. PLUS he was normally gone at this time.

“I had today off, he explained, almost as if he read your mind.

You took a few steps back and opened the door more, inviting him inside wordlessly. He chucked as he came in and stopped in the entryway, looking around at your home. “Wow, you… I like your set-up. I wish I had thought of doing something ike this. This make it seem so roomy. And definitely like a home.”

You were trying to figure out how to make this less awkward as you closed the door and were so grateful he started talking first. “Yeah, I don’t get any of the credit. My friend Jessi came and helped me. Before she came over, most of my stuff was still in boxes to be honest. Just taking stuff out as I needed it or thought of it.”

Jungkook nodded understandingly as he leaned over and saw the pan on the stove. “Smells good,” he stated, then crinkled his nose. “Though it might be close to-”

“Oh my god I hope it isn’t burning!” You didn’t mean to cut him off, but the fear for your shrimp overcame you, and you quickly went to turn off the stove and move the pan. (Shrimp is expensive okay? You don’t have money to be throwing shrimp away!)

That made him smile again, and he seemed more like the man you met this morning. He started to lightly rock from the front of his feet to his heels and back again, looking like he was beginning to feel awkward - Oh!

“Come in! You can come in more Jungkook, don’t worry,” you stated, finally catching on.

He slowly walked over, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to figure out what to say. “So… I can see what you meant,” he stated after some hesitation.

You were confused as you tried to encourage him to continue. “I clearly heard you singing too. These walls really don’t hide much, do they,” he finished.

That made you chortle as you shook your head, pouring the shrimp pasta onto a plate. “You can say that again. I only learned because one day, Yoongi played music when he thought his headphones were attached - and they weren’t. I heard EVERYTHING. From the music playing, his yelp, and even him falling out of what I assumed was his chair when it caught him off guard.”

That brought a grin to Jungkook’s handsome face as he rolled his eyes. “I wish he would have told me,” he said once the laugh passed, his self-consciousness making another appearance.

You snuck a look at him, and he was looking at the ground, slightly scuffing his feet. How does he go from hot and sexy to adorable so quickly? Going to give you whiplash, this one will. “In his defense, I don’t thihnk he knew. He was out a lot. And if he was home for any period of time, he normally had his headphones on. But more often than not, if he was home, he was asleep.”

Jungkook nodded. “Makes sense, I suppose.”

But there seemed to be more he wanted to say. You put everything down and went to stand in front of him, arms crossed inf front of you as you bent to try to get within his eyesight. “Is there something wrong? You okay?”

Jungkook sighed as he finally straightened up, his height once again making itself known. “You don’t think… I wake up everyone, do you?”

You had to mentally tell yourself to breathe, as he was so precious. You could tell that he was feeling bad about the situation. “No, I don’t think so. Our two rooms share the same wall. So even if I hear you, the neighbor on the other side probably doesn’t. Distance and all that. Plus, they haven’t said anything yet, right,” you asked.

He shook his head, confirming that no one else had said anything to him, at which you let out air that you did not know you had been holding. Good.

“Also, my bedroom shares the same wall as your bedroom. If you haven’t noticed, the apartments kinda mirro each other.”

Jungkook took another look around, surprise coloring his face once more. “Oh… I wasn’t paying attention.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that filled your face as you nodded knowingly - missing his slight reaction to your smile. “And that’s okay! No harm, no foul.” You winced at the words that spewed from your mouth. Really? Busting out the old sayings like that? Dang.

You knew that Jungkook was younger than you - but you weren’t sure how much. It couldn’t be more than a couple of years, but it was moments like that that you felt like it was probably more. But he obviously didn’t notice. You noticed his body language, and he was loosening up, so whatever you said had actually helped.

“Feel better?”

He nodded enthusiastically as he noticed that you had made yourself dinner - a solo meal. He looked at you excitedly as if he just had a brilliant idea that he had to share. “Hey! So, how about I get you some dinner sometime to make up for the multiple times I woke you up? It won’t be enough to make up for the countless hours, probably, but i can be a start! The start of becoming a good neighbor.”

At that moment, he reminded you of a hopeful bunny, his eyes shining with excitement, and they want to make things right. You originally weren’t sure if that would be a good idea, but how in the world are you supposed to say no to those eyes? Plus, being on friendly terms with your neighbor would be nice.

It certainly didn’t help to squash your growing crush on him, but maybe being friends would help. Plus, he seemed nice, like a great person to add to your shorter list of friends.

“Sounds good, I’d like that,” you stated as you gave in. It made you feel warm inside at how joyful he seemed that you said yes. His smile was truly infectious. You can see what Yoongi meant - he truly was a good person.

You held out your hand. “Nice to meet you properly neighbor.”

He looked at your hand, blinked for a moment, but then enthusiastically took your hand for the shake. Olive branch received. His grip was a bit firmer than you had expected it to be, but his gratefulness was obvious. (And you are praying that you aren’t blushing. Does he realize he has this type of effect on people? God, you couldn’t wait for him to meet Jessi. She’s going to die.)

“You too neighbor.”

Jungkook looked at the clock on his phone when it dinged. Seems like he had gotten a notification, but it made him notice the time. “I should let you eat now so your food doesn’t get cold. It would be such a waste.”

He then handed over his phone to you after unlocking it. “Text yourself. That way we can have each other’s number and can arrange for the meal!”

You nodded and sent yourself a message. Your phone dinged on the counter, confirming it was successfully delivered. “Got it,” you stated as you handed his phone back.

He nodded again and waved to you as he was heading towards the door. Once he touched the handle, he stopped and looked back at you. “Hey… thanks. For being so cool about it. About all of it. You had every right to be really mean. I’m glad though that it was you - not because you lost sleep or anything, but because it gave us a chance to talk and stuff. I’ll talk to you later…”

“Y/N,” you stated, realizing you never told him your name.

“Y/N,” he repeated with a grin. Wow, him saying your name took your breath away too. Unknowingly to you, he affected him too. He opened the door and left, making sure it closed securely behind him.

You couldn’t help the smile that overtook you and just warmed your entire body. This… this was the same kind of happy and joy that you experienced with your friends, with a hint of something else. It was… nice. As you grabbed your dinner and walked into the living room so you could eat and watch tv, you couldn’t stop thinking about the interaction.

Yeah, you were glad too. That even though you lost some sleep, you got to meet your Nightingale.

good evening i am sad and y'all always send ME fic ideas so it's my turn to give YOU one 🔪 somebody write this for me and don't ask me to do it bc i'm on a jungkook detox,,, boy is half my masterlist rn 🤣

i want a fic where reader and jk live in the same apartment building (either like next door neighbors or one floor above/below each other) and she's getting really sick of his midnight karaoke habit (even tho he is a good singer,, but still she has work in the morning !!!) 💀 but then when she goes to confront him she realizes oh no..... he's cute.....

could be anything from only mild annoyance/mostly fluff to outright enemies to lovers, dealer's choice. if anyone writes this for me...... idk you can have my firstborn or my undying affection or something 💍

ok delulu hours are over 🤪 love u goodnight babes ✨

#BTS Fanfic #Jungkook #Jungkook x reader #Slice of Life #Please forgive me for the madness #this is my first posted story #Yoongi #Taehyung

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randynova · 3 years ago

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♡𝓜𝔂 𝓦𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷♡

𝓖𝓾𝓷 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝐴𝑙𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒, 𝐺𝑢𝑛 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑡𝑜 𝐺𝑜𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑖𝑓 𝑖𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑠 ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒.

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔(𝑠):𝐹𝑒𝑚!𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟, 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝑠𝑜𝑓𝑡(𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝)! 𝐺𝑢𝑛

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

“Why couldn’t this have waited until another day?” Gun muttered, unbuttoning his shirt, letting it slide off his taut frame, and neatly folding it, placing it onto the roof of his car. He was glad he hadn't put his jacket on, having left it in his passenger seat. “I can’t dirty my clothes again, [Name] will be mad if I get blood on it.” He rolled his broad shoulders until they released a satisfying crack, his thick muscles bulging as he stretched his arms across his scarred chest. Gun peered at a nearby store, the digital clock displaying in big white numbers, ‘7:45 PM’. He groaned, his lips curling into a scowl whilst his arms fell to his side. He didn’t have enough time to deal with this.

“Hmm, and it’s almost time for our date. Fuck.” Gun whispered to himself. He clenched his fists, narrowing his eyes at the man across from him. He removed his shades and revealed his dark gaze, placing his favorite accessory to his side as well. “I’ll make this quick, Goo. I have more important places to be.”

Goo laughed, grinning in his spot as he balanced a pole in his hands. He rolled his eyes, arching a brow at his partner. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Gun, maybe if you didn’t spend all your time by [Name]’s side, we could have dealt with this matter much earlier. That girl has you wrapped around her pretty little finger, huh?”

“Shut it,” Gun said, already racing towards the blonde and thrusting his fist, knuckles colliding with metal. Upon the cold sensation meeting his skin, he wanted to absolutely kill Goo and rip him to shreds. This would take longer than he wanted, wasting his already precious, short time. He backed off, having a considerable distance between the two, stretching his fingers a few times before clenching them again. He growled, spitting venomously, “You just like picking fights.”

“You did too. Before you met her, y’know,” Goo tutted, waving his finger in the air. He scoffed, voice low, “Who would’ve thought? Gun going soft for a girl. Psh, pathetic. Never thought I’d live to see the day...” The blonde trailed off, his face becoming stoic, his mind wandering. You truly had to be someone exceptional if you managed to have a guy like Gun to fall for you. He always wondered who you were, how you looked like, what you did, but Gun had kept you a secret from the world of crime. He hid almost every known trace abou you and tied every loose end that implicated you existed. No one knew who you were and no one could find you — unless Gun allowed them to.

Goo found it so irritating how he was unable to know the girl who made such a notorious gangster go soft.

He only met you once and that was by pure sheer luck; dropping by unexpectedly at one of Gun's apartments, only to be met with the sight of you. Seeing how Gun reacted, he knew you were supposed to be kept hush-hush. But boy, did he have a field day the next time he saw the man.

Goo had to meet you again. Or at least, know you more.

Only when Gun’s fist connected with Goo’s face did the man snap out of his thoughts, the impact of such force throwing him a few feet backwards. He dug his feet into the floor, a high-pitched screech coming from his shoes as the rubber burned against the pavement. With his sleeve, Goo wiped his cheek, seeing a speck of blood staining his clothes. Goo chuckled, standing up straight with a grin, “If I can remember right, you told me you got Eli Jang in trouble for basically the same thing. What was her name again? Heather?”

Goo blocked the upcoming attack, his pole raised and crossed above his face. He pushed Gun back with an effortless swing of the pole. He tilted his head and scratched the back of his head with his free hand. “How is [Name] any different from Heather? What does she have on you?”

Gun twisted his neck gently until he heard a crack, looking back at Goo as he hissed with venom, “Nothing.”

“Let me think, let me think….” Goo hummed, racking his mind for any possibility that someone like Gun would stay with a woman longer than one night. His face lit up and he broke out into a wide grin, pointing a finger at Gun. “Aha! You got the poor girl knocked up, right?! See, I always tell you to wear protection! Just couldn’t keep it in your pants, hm? Shaaame.”

“Ugh, fuck no. I don’t want kids and neither does she. We made that clear at the beginning," Gun said with a sneer, annoyed beyond comprehension at Goo's antics.

“Awe, I really thought she held something over you. How about this: I’ll stop fighting you if you tell me why you’re still with such a pretty girl like [Name]? Deal?" Goo offered, slinging the pole onto his shoulder. His eyes darkened as he spat maliciously, knowing each word would wind and rile Gun's emotions. "She deserves better than a perverted gangster, you both know that.”

Gun stayed silent, the corners of his lips tugging down into a frown. Goo’s last words struck a chord in him, sending a pang through his heart upon hearing an insecurity he’ll never admit to. Of course. Everyone told you to stay away from a man like Gun. People kept telling you you will only get hurt in the end, that a better man will come along and sweep you off your feet if you just waited, or you could always do better than him. But you never listened. You stayed by his side, even when the whole world looked down on you two. Even for months, he tried convincing himself he felt nothing for you, but after a while, he finally accepted that someone managed to tear down his walls and enter his hollow, cold heart — you.

You were just a different kind of girl - no- a different kind of woman. A special woman he had the pleasure of meeting. One he wouldn’t dare let go of now that he has the privilege of calling you ‘mine’. And by any god out there, he won’t be a stupid fool to lose you.

Gun sighed. “I tell you and you’ll put this stupid fight behind us, right?”

Goo placed a hand over his chest, replying shortly, “You have my word.~”

“[Name] is just that special person you meet once in your life. One you know you can’t let go of because there isn’t another like her. Simple as that.”

“What?! Ugh, don’t be boring! Tell me more!”

“You asked why I stayed with her and I told you.”

“Yeah, but I expected a story, not some sad attempt at an old man’s wise words.”

A low guttural sound rumbled in Gun’s throat, his eye twitching. “Maybe when I’m in a better mood I’ll tell you, but if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with my woman.”

Goo groaned and tossed his pole to the side, rolling his eyes and grumbling, "Fiiine, but you owe me a story. "

"Whatever—damnit," Gun looked at the clock once again and his face contorted into one of pure irate. "I'm late."

'8:12 PM'

✦✦✦ ✦✦✦

Your head rested on your hand, balancing a glass of wine between your fingers, twirling the cup as the liquid swished around. Your eyes were looking down on the glory of Gangdong, the shimmering, blinding lights of the city mesmerizing you. The city always looked beautiful at this time of night. You just wished you could enjoy it with the person you cherished. A sigh leaves your lips and you look away, eyes trailing to the other tables over the balcony.

The lingering eyes of many strange men didn't faze you anymore, the two burly boys surrounding your table always making them avert their gaze as fast as it landed. A courtesy of your boyfriend, who was at least thirteen minutes late, who insisted on you needing to be guarded at all times. You knew if he were here, no one would dare to even breathe in your direction, let alone glance.

The cool air pricked your skin and a shiver passed through your body, reminding you of where you were. For a man as smart as him, Gun tended to neglect keeping the season in mind when planning your dates. Nonetheless, you were happy he went out of his way to take you out on such a busy schedule.

You jumped in your seat, snapping out of your thoughts. A jacket was wrapped around your frame, warmth immediately enveloping you as the fabric made contact with your bare skin. You looked up and smiled.

Gun stood behind you, towering over your sitting form as he made sure you were nice and covered. His coat basically swallowed you whole. A small stuffed animal was tucked under his arm, it’s fluffy fur peeking out. He walked over to take his seat, pulling the chair out, and wasting no time to slip in. He waved to the guards and they nodded, beginning to clear the scene of people.

“Sorry I’m late, [Name],” Gun started, taking the stuffie out from underneath his arm and presenting it to you. Oh, how adorable. "I brought you a gift as an apology."

A small brown otter sat in his palms, barely taking up Gun's hands. It’s beady, plastic eyes looked straight at you, a little smile stitched onto its snout. A snort left you. The sight of such a well-dressed, intimidating man carrying such an adorable toy was amusing. "Really now? Just a cute toy, Gun?"

Gun sighed and sat up a bit from his chair, leaning over the table, and cupping your face as he planted a gentle kiss on your cheek. As quick as it started, Gun's lips left and he was seated once again. You pout. "Don't give me that look, [Name]. We can do more at home if you want but not here."

"It's not wrong to be disappointed in no kiss on the mouth after not seeing your boyfriend for such a long time. Don't you think I deserve it?"

Gun smirked, placing his shades on the table and taking your hand, intertwining your fingers together. He gave a light squeeze and you didn't miss a beat as you squeezed his coarse hand back. The way you pursed your lips and looked at him with such glossy, innocent eyes made his heart swell. With such a pretty, cute face, it was hard to say no to you. "Hmm, maybe. But Olly told me you crossed paths with Hostel A." Gun spoke, slipping his hands from yours and picking up his dinnerware, quickly cutting the savory meat into pieces. He didn't hesitate to put a piece up to your mouth, a hand underneath so as to not have the juice leak. "I was told you nearly broke the Uncles' bones and Big Daddy himself."

Your face scrunched up and you scoffed, shaking your head. You placed the stuffed animal to the side, petting it. "Figured those assholes wouldn’t tell you everything. The ‘uncles’ wouldn’t leave me alone and I thought Olly was another one of those bastards,” you snap, sitting back in your seat with a scowl. “How was I supposed to know he was trying to help when he dresses like that? I thought he was trying to assault me for God’s sake!”

Gun placed down his fork on his plate and his face twisted into one of fury, eyes turning cold and rigid as all the warmth disappeared whilst his lips curled back into a nasty frown. You almost thought his infamous scowl was directed towards you, but you knew better. You dear boyfriend wouldn't dare lay a single finger on you if it didn't bring you pleasure. "They what?"

You smiled softly, placing your hand over his as it clenched into a fist. With your small attempt at trying to soothe him by rubbing small circles, you spoke with a bit of hesitation, "Ah, yeah. They kept trying to get my number and wouldn't let me leave the booth I was in. I had no other choice than to use the training you taught me. Since I never met Olly, I really thought he was just another one of them and I reacted before thinking, making me attack him too."

Gun scoffed, shaking his head as he listened to your explanation with disbelief, every word fueling his rage of someone daring to hit on his woman. Every fiber in Gun's body screamed, wanting to feel their skin underneath his fists as he pounded them into oblivion. But the only thing stopping him was his date with you. For now, he'll put his anger aside to be with you and keep you happy. Who knows how long he'll be gone and when he'll see you again. The man has to make every second count.

Yet, he couldn’t let this go unpunished.

"Fuck." Gun leans closer to you and sits on the edge of his chair. Placing his hand over yours, he slips his fingers to grasp your palm, and lifts your hand to his lips, pressing tender kisses against your knuckles. His thumb grazing softly across your fingers and his eyes flutter shut. You couldn't help but stare in awe, never quite seeing him like this.

So careful with you, so gentle, you were surprised he wasn't seething in his seat and threatening to break their heads open. Gun opens his eyes and looks up at you, shaking in his seat. “I promise I’ll have those fuckers begging on their knees for your forgiveness. They should know better than to treat a woman with such rudeness and disrespect. Shit, I’ll go right now. I’ll beat them till-”

Your sweet laugh reaches his ears, cutting him off from his little speech. You lean in and pull in his hand to your lips, pressing a tender peck to his coarse knuckles. Gun felt his heart race and skip a beat at the sight, shock crossing his features. You look up, looking at your boyfriend with mirthful eyes. “As much fun as that sounds, I'd rather you stay here. Please? I want to spend as much time with you before you go back to work.”

The man stayed silent for a few seconds, taking in your words. He looked away, clicking his tongue before he broke out into a small smile, a blush blooming across his cheeks and the tip of his ears burning a bright red. “Of course, [Name]. Though, you could’ve just said you like spending time with me.”

Giggling, you lower your hands and shake your head. “Gun, of course I like spending time with you. You’re my favorite person and I love you after all.” Your voice said those three words with such fondness, it’s as if the man was in a dream.

If your words from before didn’t send Gun over the edge, your proclamation of love surely did now. He looked down, grinning like an idiot, showing a soft, bashful side he’s never revealed to anyone before. He swore his heart would jump out of his throat from how fast it was pounding against his ribcage. Gun grasped your hand tightly and sighed blissfully, Gently, he spoke, gazing at you with loving eyes, “I love you too.”

You smiled.

The tension in the air grew to be too much and both of you found it unbearable, wanting to do what both of you have been waiting for for weeks.

Both of you sat up and leaned over the table, closing the gap between you two as your lips interlocked, slipping together like if you were made for eachother. The kiss sparked and fed the fire both of you held in your hearts, burning brighter with every moment you spent at one another’s side. Gun couldn’t help but smile against your mouth.

As much as he hated being apart from you for so long, moments like these made the long hours worth it. If working so much meant he could provide for you, then he wouldn't mind doing it for the rest of his life if you had a roof over your head and a nice, warm meal at night.

Afterall, you were his woman.

And he loved you.

✦✦✦✦✦✦

©𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚟𝚊 || 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 || 𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚜, 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚎𝚝𝚌. 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚌𝚒𝚛𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 .

✦✦✦✦✦✦

#lookism #lookism gun #lookism x reader #lookism imagine #lookism imagines #gun lookism #jong gun #jong gun x reader #lookism fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiction x reader #fanfic #lookism fanfic #x reader #reader insert #reader #reader imagine #gun imagine #jong gun imagine

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marvelmaniac2000 · 3 years ago

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Newly Wed Minds ~ Druig x Reader

Day 3 Valentine's Day Marathon

Side note: There is none. Let the work speak for itself i guess… For some reason I have better luck writing for Druig *shrug* idk why lmao..

Words:+ 1330

Subject: unprotected/pulic/pool sex, Mature audience 18+

**apologies for misspelling/grammar*

Summary: You and Druig unexpectedly decide to get married….So I meannnn why not???? This has a sprinkle of introverted characteristics too for the reader/(Y/N) perspective.

Characters: Druig x Reader

“Happy Birthday!!” Everyone screamed at the top of their lungs. The bar was packed with family and friends alike from your average life on earth. Today was one of your old friend’s birthday. As usual you and Druig hung out in the background of the noise and spoke when only spoken too. Even so, some of Druig’s friends Sersi and her boyfriend had tagged along. As well

You watch from your bar stool as your colleague blows out her last remaining candles. The midnight hour passed and you couldn’t help but remember how precious time meant to eternals and humans alike. Your face deepens a loss of hope realizing how complicated it was to date someone who will eventually die off. It was a bitter sweet gift and curse to be mortal as they say…

Druig stood next to you with his back leaned up against the bar counter while you sat on a stool. He observed the celebration with ease but silently kept his full attention on your thoughts.

As much as he did wish he had the ability to stop reading other people’s thoughts, it was just part of who he was. Every ribbon of thought that crossed your mind Druig dissected to figure out his next sentence to you. Although your silence is what made him attracted to you, you lived in your mind like he did, but your brain was much easier to navigate. He heard the words in your head about you being mortal. A quick swig of his drink lightens his feelings.

“If you're so worried about not living forever with me, why don't we just get married?” You quickly rolled your eyes dismissing the fact that he was back reading your mind once again.

“Look I know you're probably only saying that out of self pity” you looked over at him to find any speck of lies in his cold demeanor.

Druig turned his posture toward you and lifted your drink up, “You see this? If you had been paying attention you would have noticed someone roofied your drink love. So that’s one reason why you should marry me. It’s called protection. Secondly, even though it’s very easy for me to find out everybody’s secrets without even talking to them, I notice that your mind is by far the most beautiful. Your brain is like a canvas. I can picture and see that most people's brains are dark . Druig stared blankly into the crowd before touching your delicate hand onto yours. “Will you marry me?” He kissed your hand and rubbed the wet print ever so slightly.

“Fifty percent of marriages end in divorce” you playfully mention.

“Why focus on the negative perspective and enjoy life as is. At least you’re not me who doesn’t have to relive seeing your kind keep making the same dumb mistakes in a vicious cycle” his eyes shifted a bit realizing where this conversation was leading to.

“Notice how happy everyone is enjoying the moment?...you know the little things in life. I wish I could have you forever like Ikaris and Sersi, but nothing is ever that simple. You're a big part of my life now and I want to see you in it, so please marry me??” he searched into his pocket and pulled out a silver shaped ring. “It’s kinda bogus to propose at someone else’s celebration” you giggled. “Don’t need, just hand it to me. We can figure out the rest later’ you twisted the beautiful band around your finger.

“It’s exactly how I envisioned it '' he smiled ear to ear holding your hand.

>>>>>later In the Night

Afterward from the party, you and Druig looped back to place you guys shared. “So what exactly do engaged couples do?” you tried to wrap your head around the idea of being married. It felt like such a huge responsibility (which it was) but you knew for certain this was the man you wanted to spend eternity with.

“We just keep acting like normal people” Druig acted nonchalant from the outside when in actuality he was couldn’t contain how excited he was to finally find someone who understood him. A random idea popped into your head noticing the water faucet dripping from the kitchen.

“We should go for a swim to celebrate,” you grinned. Druig read your mind instantly and walked down to the back bedroom. “Say no more,” he replied.

One of the nice amenities of the apartment you guys lived in was that you both liked the swimming pool included.

You wore a sexy swimsuit that Druig couldn’t removed his eyes from. The best moments you guys shared together was the secluded time together. Just the moment of you two walking together in the hallway carried more weight than any other gesture. It was late at night but the pool was outdoors and it carried a beautiful view of the energetic city life. No one else companies the area but you two alone. “Ladies first” Druig extended his arm. You give him a warm smile before carefully running down the tile floor and canon ball into the water. The warmth of the water floated you back to the top. You pop your head above water to see your newly wed husband follow close behind jumping the water.

You giggle as you naturally turn your head from the huge splash he caused. You shriek as you feel his hands under water grab hold of your legs. Druig floated back to the service and pulled your legs around his.

“Do you (Y/N) take Druig to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

You admire the wedding band on your finger and wrap your arms lousy around his neck.

“I do” you cooed.

“Do you Druig take (Y/N) has your lawfully wedded wife?” you questioned back.

“I do” he whispered and looked passionately into your beautiful eyes before pressing his damped lips onto yours. Druig swam you over against the wall to begin the things that he wanted to do to you. Druig broke the kiss and delicately pulled the knot of your swimsuit to reveal your breasts. He gave you a sloppy kiss and pressed his chest against yours to feel your hardened nipples graze against his bare chest. You moan into his mouth feeling each other's tongues wrestle.

He broke the kiss and sucked your bottom lip.

he stared at your lips before pulling your bottoms off. He hoisted you onto the ledge of the pool with your back slightly against the wall on an angle. He tossed his trunks off and positioned himself between your entrance. He slowly aims himself between your legs. You're excitedly waiting for the new sensation as the water crashes around or bare pussy. Druig locked his eyes on yours as he thinks about fucking you as his wife for the first time. His slick wet dick pushes into your walls perfectly. Druig watch your beautiful body give in to his dick. He hungry thrust his member further into you making you moan. His hands harden around your waist to quicken his thrust inside you.

His feverish growl filled your ears as he thrust hit sharper and harder. He lowered his face to brush his lips slightly over yours. You push his head more to give him one last sloppy kiss before feeling his warm seed fill into you. Both of your bodies felt heavy but weightless from the water floating around you. Nothing but the tiny tides of water was filling each other’s ears. Druig pulled you in closer and pressed his forehead against yours.

“You will always be the love of my life” he pecked the bridge of your nose.

#druig x reader #marvel #mcu #fanfic #druig #eternals #love story #druig fanfic #valentine's day #disney plus #writing

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ethereaiin · 3 years ago

Note

2B likes to carry Reader but doesn't like to admit it?

changed your rq a bit since i wanted some comfort fluff. also this reignited my motivation to write for my nier fic so thanks <3

features; you and 2B + some bonus 9S.

[au]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Being the only human left in the world meant a lot of things.

The weight of responsibility weighed heavily on your shoulders. There was never a day that went by you weren’t reminded of how precious your life was and how losing it meant the end of humanity. The androids you’ve come to know and love never let you forget that fact. You were their salvation; their hope and most of all, their most cherished person.

2B was especially fond of you. While she was reserved with her emotions, opting to use actions to display her care, you knew that she held a soft spot for you. She treated you as if you were the most delicate thing in the world; like the slightest harm against you would break you completely. Compared to an android, of course you were weaker. Yet 2B was maybe a little too cautious.

“Is this really necessary?”

You say with a slight pout as 2B lifts you from the ground and you immediately wrap your arms around her neck. At this point, she’s done it so many times that it felt more like an instinctual habit rather than something you did to ensure you wouldn’t fall. Knowing her, it was unlikely she’d ever let you slip through her grasp. Her wary nature wouldn’t allow it.

At this point, you were somewhat used to the coldness of an android’s body. They were different from humans and they didn’t possess the natural heat you exuded. When you clung to her, it felt no different from any other person, yet the lack of warmth was like a gentle reminder. Nothing here was the same as you remembered it to be and the beings that you were surrounded with on a daily basis that appeared so human were, in fact, anything but.

2B makes no verbal sound of irritation at your question and she answers you as diligently as she always does. “Of course. We can’t afford you getting sick or hurt.”

Though she rarely ever spoke with emotion, you could still hear the tinge of concern in her voice. It only made the heat in your cheeks feel especially warmer. “A-At least let me ride on your back! You can’t fight like this with me here!”

“You’re fine right where you are.”

Your lips part to protest but quickly close when you recall the promise you made to her earlier that day. It was her condition that if you were to roam about the city, you needed to listen to everything she told you to do. No matter how you felt about it. Even if it was a little embarrassing.

Yet, this wasn’t just a one-time occurrence when it came to 2B. No matter where you were, 2B wanted to be in some form of contact with you. At the camp, she’d sit so close that you could feel the brush of her sleeves against your skin, and whenever you were given the chance to roam about, you always found yourself either in her arms or on her back.

You thought it was nothing more than android curiosity. You were the first human she’s ever interacted with after all and it wasn’t as if it were any different for you. You couldn’t deny that you too were interested in androids, especially how they all came to be. For them, they’ve always known humans as their elusive creators, but for you, it felt as if the androids seemingly came from nowhere.

You couldn’t remember much of your old life before you woke up and for now, the desolate and decrepit city you wandered in was your new home. At least until you regain the lost memories 2B promised she’d help you recover.

“So, where are we going today?” You finally ask after a brief walk in silence.

2B’s stride doesn’t break and you feel almost lulled by her rhythmic steps. She didn’t even seem the least burdened with carrying you. She was stronger than an average human, it was something you came to learn after watching her mercilessly beat down a hunk of sentient metal. Just with her fists alone she was able to put a dent in steel. To her, your weight was of little consequence.

Often, you wondered what you felt like in her arms.

She glanced down at you, visage half shrouded by the blindfold around her eyes though the curve of a smile on her lips shows her excitement. “. . . You’ll see.”

She doesn’t say anymore after that and the both of you continue on in silence. Not that you minded it too much. 2B was never a conversationalist, she relied more on actions than words to convey how she felt. You liked that part of her. Her actions were always well thought out and held meaning, Whether she knew it or not, it made every little thing she did for you feel a little more sincere.

From your place in her arms, you took in the sights of the city. As dilapidated and broken as the world around you seemed, it was oddly beautiful. Never had you seen so much green in your life. Flora grew from the cracks between the roads and overtook the concrete buildings towering above you. Looking up towards the sky, you could see flocks of birds flying towards a destination you would never know, their distant calls an interruption to the silence. You don’t remember much of the old world, but you knew this city was never meant to be this quiet.

You desperately wished to regain your lost memories, yet there was a part of you who wasn’t so eager. Often the thought crossed your mind; maybe you were better off without them. Remembering would only leave you with the desire for a world long gone along with the total realization of your unfathomable luck. You, the last of your kind, were left all alone while the world died and withered without you. If there was a god, surely they wouldn’t have condemned you to such a lonely fate.

“Look,”

At the sound of her voice, you glance up at her only to direct your sight towards whatever she was referring to. While you were deep in thought you hadn’t noticed the direction she was heading in and you found yourself atop a wooden bridge placed just behind the walls of what looked to be an amusement park. From where 2B stood, you couldn’t see much, but you were given an incredible view of the distant castle.

“I-Is that an- Woah!”

The words died right on your tongue as an explosion of color suddenly took over the sky. Even from the great distance between you and the park, you were able to hear the crackling of fireworks. The sky, which you thought the sun would never set for, was darkened with the smoke from the war 2B and 9S constantly talked about. The colors were brightened against it, making their visibility clearer and their colors vivid. With your eyes locked onto the sight before you, you tapped on 2B’s shoulder as a silent request to be let down. She complied, allowing you to step near the edge of the bridge to take a closer look at the fireworks.

You thought you couldn’t remember anything from the old world, yet the moment you gazed upon the fireworks lighting up the sky; you remembered them instantaneously. You remembered their putrid smell, how loud they could be, and the fear you used to harbor for them when you were younger.

Even if you used to be scared of them, even if you thought they were too loud and hated the way they smelled; at this moment, you thought they were the prettiest things you’ve ever seen.

Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes and it was only until you felt them run down your cheeks that you paid them any mind. Though before you could even attempt to wipe them, you felt the distinct sensation of leather gently running across your cheek.

2B stood at your side, looking down at you with a small smile on her face, one you gladly returned. She doesn’t ask you the reason for your tears, nor does she look hurt by their appearance. She lets you be, standing at your side for as long as you allow her whilst providing unspoken support. It warmed you to the deepest part of your heart. Her kindness, although silent and unvoiced, was always apparent to you. She cared deeply for you. You didn’t need her to say it for you to know.

Your hand slips into hers all too naturally and under the crackling fireworks above, you think of only the promising future.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

extra:

“Why do you like to carry me so much?”

The question was asked more straightforward than what they were used to hearing from you. If there was anything 2B and 9S learned from their journey with you so far, it was that you never said what you felt. You looked for gentler ways to word your questions as if your care would be understood by androids who had no grasp of discretion.

2B, like always, never fails to leave your question unanswered and replies as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Because you’re warm.”

2B’s forthright reply even shocked 9S who was walking alongside her. “2B! Don’t you think that’s a little. . .”

You blushed slightly at her reply, burying your face against her shoulder as if that would take away from your embarrassment. From your place on her back, you were unable to see what kind of face she was making. As if that damned blindfold would give you the opportunity anyway. Though you doubted she would feel even a pinch of shame. 2B spoke nothing but the truth and that only made her words all the more brazen.

“What? You don’t agree?” She pauses in her steps, turning towards him which then forces you to face him as well. “Have you never touched her?”

You felt as if you would just die right then and there, yet you can’t help yourself from timidly peeking out at 9S from over 2B’s shoulder. He looks like he’s in thought for a moment, with a gloved hand on his chin and his lips twisted to the side. There’s only a moment’s delay between 2B’s question and his answer.

“Well. . . yeah, you’re not wrong. She’s even nicer to hug.”

Having enough of this conversation, you raise up your head to throw 9S a light glare. “Guys, can we please just get back to camp already?”

Throwing his hands up, 9S cheekily grins at you before continuing down the road towards the resistance camp. 2B follows shortly after him, her lips spread into an equally amused smile. While it might have been normal for 9S to show emotion resembling that of a human’s the feeling that stirred in 2B’s chest was quite foreign to her. She didn’t know what to call this feeling, but she didn’t hate it. It was a delightful buzz, one that she often felt around you and only you.

“Humans are softer than I imagined.” She added, her smile brightening at the sound of your muffled groan.

9S didn't hesitate to tag in on the teasing even from his place further ahead of you. “You know, I think we should include that in our report to the Commander. . .”

“Guys!”

#requests #finished requests #nier 2B #2B #2B x reader #x reader #reader insert fanfiction #female reader #2nd person pov #you/your #nier fanfiction #alternate universe #i havent written for my nier fic in MONTHS #also a little 9s x reader #just a tiny bit #fluff

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dreamii-yume · 3 years ago

Note

HEHE HI I'M THE SAME ANON WHO SIMPS FOR DEUCE, AND YES YUME AAAAA (ﾉ*0*)ﾉ❤️💕❤️💕

So, basically, Deuce receiving a phone call from his mom while he's getting it on with darling 👀 and he forces her to talk to his mom while he's hitting it back ya know what I'm saying?! 😩 Like legit, Darling's just trying her best to muffle her moans as she's bent over the mattress with Deuce rearranging her guts, not even caring about what her mom's saying on the phone anymore as her eyes roll up in ecstacy and cumming hard on his dick AAAAAAA lmao hope it's okay!!! ( ꈍᴗꈍ)❤️❤️❤️

Chokes omg darling YESS???

Warnings : Non-Con | Yandere

The sheer amount of P A N I C alone had almost brought you into yet another embarrassing orgasm. His phone ringing not too far from the bed, where Deuce had you pinned down in all fours with his hand on top of your head. Filled with nothing but tears and moans, your fucked-out state barely manages to keep your consciousness intact as you glanced towards the vibrating device. For a moment there, you resented such a thing for bringing you back to full-awareness, when you were just about ready to pass out from the mixture of pain and pleasure swirling down your weeping pussy. But at the same time, you saw it as a desperate opportunity to get yourself out of your current situation.

Deuce was far too engraved in getting his dick wet over and over again as he slams continuously without rest inside of you, treating your pussy more of a fleshlight at this point. With his mouth offering small apologies and compliments of how good you felt, you didn’t think he even heard the sound of his own ringtone echoing throughout the room. Not when the sound of skin slapping against each other seemed to be even more pleasing to his ear alone. You didn’t know what you were trying to do, but getting fucked for almost an hour now had your mind in complete shambles that the most logical thing you can do at this moment was to reach out for that phone. You can’t quite see who exactly was calling on the other side, but no matter who it is, if they could at least just hear what kind of predicament you’re in, surely they’ll come running...correct?

However, it was just your luck when Deuce had opened his eyes to bask in the pleasure once more, just in time to see you struggling to reach for his phone. “Ah…” He was finally aware of the current caller and you felt him flinched behind you, you don’t know whether to take that as a good or a bad sign. “...I-It’s mom...” He muttered out, groaning as his grip against your hips tightened.

With that, you widened your eyes in realization and slowly retracted your hand away from answering that call. You could ask her for help, but it’s Deuce’s mother! It’s not very likely that she would come to believe you so easily since no mother can ever truly doubt their son like this. I mean, how could she not even believe someone like you over her own sweet child, who had been such a good son up until now? You might just end up making a fool of yourself! You let out a whimper that unfortunately caught Deuce’s attention as he reached for the phone himself and looked at you, gulping.

Then, to your surprise, he bought the phone right next to your ear as he leaned in to the other. “I can’t...ignore a call from mom...” He said, face flushed but his eyes were hazy as if he had been drinking alcohol all night long. “But I can’t face her...in this state...”

“So, please…Do the talking for me...”

You let out a sharp gasp, a shriek scraping against your throat as he slammed down inside you so hard that your vision darkened for a split second. Despite being able to barely recover from such an impact though, Deuce only repeated the same brutal thrust like it was normal, his aggressive grunts had your stomach rolling and swirling full of butterflies. He wants you to talk to his mom? At this state? If he can’t do it with the way he is right now, then what makes him think that you can!?

“Deuce? Hello, it’s mom~!”

And just like that, you clasped your hand over your mouth as soon as you heard the woman’s lovely voice on the other side of the device. It was taking all your willpower to not to let out questionable noises when Deuce wasn’t even cutting you off the slack by even attempting to slow down behind you. “Deuce?” His mom called once again, worried to hear a relative pause in the line. You glanced at the guy with widened, panicked eyes, begging for help in this situation, but he was too engrossed pounding you like there’s no tomorrow. That’s when you realized that there was no way Deuce was going to help you out with this, he’s probably gets on the fact that he was forcing you to do this in the first place.

So, with no other choice, you carefully opened your trembling lips and tried to stable your voice as much as possible. “Y-Yes...? This is...(Y/N) speaking...” You replied, trying to sound as cheerful as the woman knew you to be. “G-Good evening...!”

“Oh, (Y/N)? Are you with Deuce right now?”

You resorted into slamming your face in the bed sheets to muffle your moans once in a while. “Y-Yes...! Um, he’s...He’s...” You took another glanced at the man behind you. “He’s s-sleeping right now...”

You heard the woman gave a naïve sigh of relief. “Thank god, I thought something happened since he usually picks up within the first ring of his phone.” She laughed. “Anyway, I don’t want to disturb too much! You’re with Deuce for a reason, aren’t you~? Don’t worry, mom approves and supports the two of you~!”

You faked a laugh, but it sounded awkward and nervous in your opinion as you were trying so hard not to cringe at her attempt of playful teasing. “I just wanted to wish him a happy birthday, could you say that to him in my place, dear?” She said, a sweet mother that she is, unaware of the true nature of his son. “He’s been worrying a lot about his future and trying the best I’d ever seen him do, so naturally, as his mother, I’m really proud.”

“I’m lucky to have him, but I’d say he’s also as lucky to have someone as sweet as you so early on in his life.” She continued; she’s sounds so sentimental that it makes you want to cry for her kindness alone. “So, please take care of my little Deuce for me, will you? I’m counting on you~”

You closed your eyes, gulping down the building saliva inside your mouth and lowered your head down in shame. “...Yes, o-of course...”

And with a cheerful goodbye, Deuce’s sweet precious mother had finally hanged up and you couldn’t help but to let out a sob right after. Clinging onto the sheets, finally letting all those suppressed moans and shrieks out, your vaginal walls clenching uncontrollably against his dick in guilt. “So...Tight...” Deuce sighed, he was listening in until the very end and couldn’t keep a smile from forming on his lips. “You’re...gonna take care of me...as promised, huh...”

You reacted quite abruptly as he went in deep inside, knocking against your abused cervix to cause your eyes to roll back and to blank your mind. “I can’t wait...” He said, wrapping his arms around your waist, a change of pace from constantly trying to bruise up your hips. “W-We’re perfect...for each other.”

“I love you...!”

And with that, you could barely even register the warm liquid flowing through and slowly filling you up from the inside. Your mind wasn’t able to comprehend anything he said right after, the comforting feeling of slumber pulling you down was even more tempting. Especially when combined with how warm Deuce’s hand felt on the top of your head and his lips giving your neck a gentle wet kiss.

#twisted wonderland #yandere #yandere twisted wonderland #deuce spade #yandere deuce spade #Birthday Crumbs (Deuce)

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shadowsinger11 · 4 years ago

Text

You, The Stars And I

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k (oops)

Requested by @amira3113: Can I request a fic abt the reader seeing Fred and George comforting a kid after Umbridge punished him and the reader helps them and Fred thinks it's so cute what she is doing and she does the same and extra mega fluff, pls?🥺 you don't gotta do it if u don't want to btw.. so no pressure ;)

Warnings: A bit more angst than intended, Fred being a soft boi™️

A/N: I don't know how to feel, I just roasted myself hardcore with this and I'm feeling even more single. I'm sorry for not being able to use a 'keep reading' tab

Masterlist

The sun fell asleep behind the endless hills, enveloped by dense, opaque darkness. Its golden rays no longer shone through the wide windows of the castle and instead let shadows creep into the long, empty hallways, revealing the ugly truth about what the school had turned into over the past few months.

The naked walls stood tall, towering over you and inching closer with every step you took, and you hung your head low, aiming to block out the singular buzzing thought in your head.

Hogwarts was no longer home.

Your heart ached at the memory of hundreds of students chattering and laughing all day long, freely walking around the school grounds and simply being children. You so terribly missed being careless and having fun without the fear of potentially facing a life-threatening punishment.

But now there was no laughter, only your footsteps echoed in the hallway.

You were headed straight to your common room, determined to go to sleep early. The curfew and the dozens of new restrictions prevented you from meeting your friends, and you hoped that sleep would at least somehow distract you from your worries for a couple of hours.

The deafening silence nearly caused you to miss the muffled sobs and quiet whispering, coming from a turn not far away. It seemed as though there were more than one voice speaking, and your chest clenched with dread.

You hurried your pace until you reached the source of the noise, and peeked from behind the wall.

The sight most definitely surprised you, but the pain in your chest only sharpened.

There, on a bench, Fred and George were sitting, hunched over a small boy, probably no older than a second year. You could tell by his green robes which house he was in, but his red, tear-stained face was what alarmed you.

You immediately approached him and fell to your knees. George was on his left, rubbing slow, soothing circles on his back, while Fred was on the other side, holding his small hand in his, on the back of which a few words glistened with fresh crimson blood.

I must not ask questions.

You sent the twins a questioning look, but Fred dismissed it by shaking his head; clearly that was not the time for an explanation, nor was one necessary to begin with.

You placed a hand on the boy's knee to make your presence known.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

This only caused the child to sob harder and you internally cursed for having to go through this routine.

"It hurts…" he whimpered, "I thought Hogwarts was fun. I met friends last year and it was great. But now… Now I really want to go home."

Your jaw clenched and you swallowed hard, furious about seeing innocent children slowly losing faith and joy in life, turning into hollow shells of the amazing people they could have grown to become.

The horrifying experience would inevitably have a massive impact on them and unexplainable guilt twisted your stomach. And even though the long-term damage had already been done, you could at least take care of the temporary pain.

"It's not going to hurt for long, I promise," Fred whispered, tenderly playing with the boy's trembling fingers. "Ours are already fading."

"That's true, see?" George showed the back of his hand on which you could make out the faint, bloody words 'I must not cause trouble.', and you felt sick. "Soon you won't even remember it was there."

Tears stung in your eyes, but before you gave them a chance to fall, you turned to the redheads.

"I can heal the wound. Well, to an extent. If anything, I can lessen the pain," you began. "But I need to grab something from the Charms classroom."

Fred frowned, confused, "Wouldn't you need a potion for that? Why Charms?"

"Snape isn't the only one armored with potions for just in case things go wrong. And we can't risk going to the dungeons at this hour. It's not wise to tell Madam Pomfrey yet either."

The twins nodded. George said.

"It's not a good idea for all of us to go at once. I suggest one of us returns and covers the others up if necessary."

"I'll go with her," Fred stated without a second thought. "I can get them safely where they need to be, let her do her thing and bring them back."

Fred's eagerness to help filled you with warmth and for once that night you had the strength to smile, even for just a second.

"That sounds like plan then. But you should really take the map," George added, already pulling out the neatly folded Marauder's Map from his backpack. "Don't wanna risk getting caught by the ugly toad, you know."

"As if she'd be strolling down the hallways late at night. Doesn't she have hobbies?"

"Does hanging creepy pictures of cats on pink walls count as such?" you commented and the second year giggled, which made you feel slightly better as well.

Fred took the map from George and you grabbed the boy's hand.

"Good luck, guys. And, like, don't die."

"Woah, greatly encouraging, Georgie," you replied sarcastically, but appreciated it nonetheless. "You sure you'll be fine?"

"Absolutely. I got the route memorized like the back of my hand. I'll be careful."

And with that, George headed towards the Gryffindor Tower while you, Fred and the boy went in the opposite direction - the East Towers.

The night was eerily quiet, only the footsteps and shuddering breaths of the three of you keeping you sane. The soft light, gleaming at the tip of your wands, didn't do much to brighten the empty hallways which now seemed like endless voids of darkness.

Occasionally Fred would warn you about Filch's cat approaching, or Peeves causing trouble nearby, but fortunately, you reached the classroom sooner than expected.

"Alohomora," you whispered, but the door didn't bulge when you tried to open it.

Fred grinned, "Surely a Charms professor wouldn't let such a cliché unlock his own classroom."

"Shut up," you grumbled. "Aberto!"

The door opened. Fred's eyes widened in amusement and you flashed him a charming smile on your way in.

You placed the boy to sit on a desk as you and your friend rushed to look through drawers and chests for something useful. Most of them were full of basic items such as old books and quills, half-full jars of salamander blood, pearl dust and gillyweed, and after long fifteen minutes of not having found anything, you slid your back down against the wall, sighing in frustration.

Sleep-deprivation was kicking in, but your anxiety was getting stronger.

You needed to do something. Fast.

"What about this chest right here?" Fred asked from the other side of the classroom, pointing at something under Flitwick's desk.

You shook your head, "Doesn't open, already tried. Even if the cure is there, we can't get it."

"I take it your brilliant spells don't work anymore?" the redhead teased and you so badly wished to slap away the cocky smirk on his face. Or kiss it. There was something oddly attractive about the way he'd set your nerves on fire, and you hated yourself for enjoying it. Fred seemed to love it too.

"If you're only here to be annoying, just leave."

"I'm here to help too. I can multitask."

You nearly jumped from the ground to strangle him, and he clearly saw through your intentions because his toothy grin almost split his face in two. That bastard.

That super annoying, devilishly handsome bastard.

"Are you gonna keep staring at me, or are you coming? Not that I mind the attention," he shrugged.

You rose to your feet and made your way over to where he was standing, not granting him the pleasure of facing him, "Don't flatter yourself, Weasley. Your stupidity is simply impossible to be unnoticed."

Fred laughed, "Oh, so I was annoying and now I'm stupid too? Make up your mind, woman."

You pulled out your wand and smirked at him over your shoulder.

"You said it yourself that you can multitask. Aberto!"

Nothing.

Fred squinted his eyes as he stared at the wooden chest. What spell could the professor have possibly used? Could you have even heard of it? The chances of ever finding the precious item were becoming grimmer with each passing second and the inevitable sense of dread had started to settle in.

After a minute Fred finally spoke.

"I think your problem is that you're using spells that only work on doors. You need a charm which unlocks containers."

"You might be right. What would that be then?" you enquired, glancing at the redhead. He took his own wand out of his robes.

"I know a spell that's come in handy before. Hopefully it will work now," he wettened his lips and said. "Cistem Aperio!"

Blinding light caused you to cover you eyes, and the chest opened with a loud thud which could have easily alerted the entire floor of your presence if it wasn't for the silencing charm you were lucky to have used when you first entered the classroom.

You finally dared to open your eyes and kneeled on the ground, carefully rummaging through fancy-looking boxes and vials sparking with liquids that seemed to be quite important.

"What are we looking for?" Fred asked as he crouched next to you.

"Wound-Cleaning Potion. Purple."

It was weird having Fred stand this close to you; sparks of electricity would pierce your heart every time his shoulder brushed against yours, or his fingers would accidentally graze yours. And when they did, they had you longing more and more for their touch, for their warmth.

But this warmth did not belong to you.

You swallowed down the disappointment and instead attempted to focus on the task at hand.

Just as you had expected, the precious crystal bottle was carefully wrapped in sparkling cloth and placed inside a box that was hidden deep in the corner of the chest. You breathed a sigh of relief and got on your feet, determined to stay away from Fred. For his sake and yours.

"Here it is," you smiled at the boy as you walked over to him. "Fred, can you get me some bandages from the drawer in the back?" you asked, pointing right behind him, and he did as he was told.

You took the hand of the young Slytherin and examined it closely - the wound was sure to leave a nasty scar, one that would never heal.

"Can you make it disappear?" he asked, fearfully.

Your heart dropped. But you replied with all the courage you could muster.

"I can try."

Fred was soon by your side and placed the medical items on the desk; a half-full packet of cotton, some bandages and a small box of bandaids. You muttered a 'thanks', not even looking at him, and opened the middle-sized bottle. It spread a characteristic smell of ashes, mint and lemon when you lifted it towards your nose - it was ready to use.

"So what now?" Fred asked.

Not granting him a reply, you simply took a small piece of the cotton and dipped the opening of the bottle into it, soaking it with a generous amount of the purple, dense liquid. The smell grew stronger.

Fred could only watch as you yet again gently grabbed the boy's hand and carefully dabbed the back of it; a thin steam of smoke soared from the contact of wet cotton and wounded flesh, purple mixing with red, and the kid hissed in pain. You worked attentively but quickly, with measured gestures and a straight face, and you missed the way Fred's eyes seemed to soften at the sight of you helping a small kid.

But one thing baffled him - why did you suddenly start acting so emotionless? Even towards the youngling who didn't know a thing. And though your expression seemed calm and collected, the Gryffindor noticed your tensed jaw.

What he wasn't aware of, however, was the racing speed of you heart, increasing each second. He wasn't aware of the short, shallow breaths you were taking because if you had allowed yourself to breathe freely, you'd certainly let out tears along with the deeps sighs.

Every move was calculated, every word and breath.

You pressed a fresh piece of cotton against the now cleaned wound and kept it there as you began to roll the bandage over it, securing it in place. When you were done, you placed a gentle, lingering kiss on the hand.

"There. It should do the trick."

The boy's face lit up and he hugged you, not giving you another choice but to wrap your arms around his small body. At least you had managed to bring him back some of the lost warmth.

"We should get him to his dorm," you told Fred and despite not facing him, he knew the words were directed towards him. That still didn't prevent the stinging pain in his chest from being so effortlessly avoided by you, and he frowned, bewildered by your unexpected coldness towards him.

Had he accidentally done anything to upset you? Were you mad at him? What for?

The boy jumped to his feet, visibly less burdened despite the present tear stains on his puffy cheeks. You hoped he'd be able to get some sleep that night regardless of the circumstances.

The three of you left the classroom as quietly as you had entered it and went in the direction of the dungeons. Fred, as usual, did his job at looking at the map and keeping track of the names, moving on the yellow-ish piece to old parchment.

Fortunately, you reached the Slytherin common room without any disturbances along the way, and the boy went inside, eager to crawl into bed and not think about the ugly lady who had punished him so unfairly just a few hours ago.

The door closed without a sound, leaving you and Fred on your own.

His soft voice broke the burdening silence.

"Are you going to bed?"

If you were being honest, you hadn't even thought about sleep during your secret adventure and though your body was on the verge of giving out, your restless mind was sure to wander all night. And the idea of being alone with your thoughts scared you.

"Actually… I don't think so," you began, fiddling with your fingers in hopes to not let Fred see how much they were trembling. "I doubt I'd be able to get any sleep now."

"Me too, I admit," Fred scratched the back of his neck, uncertain as to how to make the situation less awkward than it was. Trying to get you to talk was hard enough as it was, but your sudden avoidance wasn't helping either. All Fred wished for was to witness the hopeful spark in your eyes, the spark that he had noticed diminish on the first day of school when the unsettling news was announced.

Fred was determined to bring the light back and see your joyous smile again.

Without skipping a beat he said.

"Come with me."

Your eyes shot up in surprise, meeting Fred's for the first time that night. You expected to see the ever-present playful mischief in them, but instead they glistened with something you could not quite recognize. The corners of his mouth had formed a smile, one that didn't intend to mock or provoke in any way, but still contained his usual boyish charm. It was humble and sincere, and along with the anticipating look in his eyes it read.

Trust me.

Your mouth went dry, any and all reasoning to stay vanishing in thin air as you tried to make sense out of your inner conflict. Fred surely wouldn't care if you said no, would he? It's not like he'd be offended that someone like you refused to go with him; why would he even be interested in you in the first place?

But the idea of spending some time alone with him did sound very tempting - you desperately needed some positivity in that moment, feeling exceptionally drained of all your energy after having to witness the emotional and psychological impact of Umbridge's dictatorship. And if there was someone who could lift your spirit even in such dark times, that would be Fred.

Screw the idea of a potential relationship, you needed a friend right now.

"Where to, Weasley?"

Fred grinned at the nickname and shoved hands into his pockets.

"The Astronomy Tower. Are you coming?"

You smiled at him.

"Sure."

It was indeed a brilliant idea to spend the night at the place where anyone rarely ever set a foot. Regardless of it being crowded during classes all day, the Tower wasn't a common choice for students to meet, them much preferring locations like the common rooms, the Great Hall, the school grounds or even the Black Lake. But the Tower did possess a magnetic, obscure charm which many people failed to comprehend and appreciate; charm only meant to lure the wandering souls seeking peace under the stars.

Fred approached the iron railing, breathing in the cold, early spring air, and sat cross-legged on the ground. As he saw you standing a few feet away from him, he patted the empty spot next to him.

"Come on now, don't leave me sitting on my own like that," he joked and his face lit up when he noticed the ghost of a smile on your lips for a brief moment. You joined Fred on the ground, settling on a polite distance from him, and though he was slightly disappointed by the gesture, he was grateful to be in your presence nonetheless.

Silence fell over both of you like soft velvet while you stared off into the horizon; the view reached the Forbidden Forest, the outlines of which had melted into the pitch black sky like ink, the lines between the two practically nonexistent in the dead hours of the night as they blurred into one endless void.

"I don't remember the last time I saw stars on the sky," Fred addressed your ever-listening companions above in a low, hushed voice that caused warmth to blossom within you regardless of the cold surrounding you.

"Me neither," you agreed, nostalgia creeping into you, but you decided you'd welcome it this time. "Such a shame we can't see the moon though."

Your friend nodded, lips pursed into a thin line, "That's because it's currently new moon. We'll need to wait for awhile until it's visible again."

You turned to Fred and the air was knocked out of your lungs. All you could do was silently admire the way the starlight was softening his sharp features and giving his usually flaming red hair a calming shade of copper. His eyes seemed to glow in the dark, and you found yourself coming to the conclusion you had realised long ago.

He was such a beautiful man.

Those glowing eyes landed on yours and you felt your face heat up.

"How are you?" he asked abruptly and you choked out in bafflement.

"Y-You mean, right now? Or in general?..."

"How are you coping?" he rephrased. "You know, with everything going on. I noticed Umbridge bothering you recently."

A shuddering breath.

"I like to think that I'm doing better than others," you nodded hesitantly, finding it hard to sort out your emotions. "I'm more worried about the most vulnerable among us, the youngest students. They're just children. They're the ones that are most terrified. I really hope Dumbledore will be able to do something about it… no matter where he might be right now."

Fred was watching you intently; he did not miss your expression, darkened with concern, nor did he miss your slumped figure, slightly hunched over for a reason he believed was other than exhaustion. Your friend moved closer and nudged your foot with his.

"I don't want you to talk to me about the rest. I want to hear about you. I can clearly see you're being tormented by her."

"As if you're not."

"That's not the point," he insisted and placed a hand on your knee, causing you to face him. His smile was gone. "I need to know how this madness is affecting you."

"I couldn't care less about what that toad puts me through," you shook your head dismissively and shrugged. Why was he getting so worked up about it? "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does! It matters to me!" Fred hissed in frustration. "Do you think it doesn't hurt me every time I see Umbridge picking at you or calling you for detention? Because it bloody does and you have no idea how horrible it feels to not be able to help you."

He gave your knee a squeeze.

"For once, just for one time, please. Please, stop trying to be the hero of everybody. Believe me, we see- I see how hard you're trying to keep your chin up despite all the shit you're facing, and that's admirable, but right now it's not necessary. Let go. It's just me."

A way too familiar lump formed in your throat and your chest constricted painfully before it harshly dilated, letting out choked breaths. Fred was quick to envelope you in his long arms before your tears even rolled down your cheeks, and when they did, they met his shoulder. Your hands flew around his neck, body falling into his and soaking up his warmth. Fred pressed his soft lips to your temple, calming the racing pulse as you cried freely and unapologetically. Darling, you feel too much.

It's just me.

Your friend didn't let you out of his hold even when your heart-wrenching whimpers were reduced to weak sobs. He continued cradling your exhausted body which was on the verge of completely giving out. But Fred didn't mind, finding astonishing strength in your vulnerability.

After what seemed like hours, you forced yourself to timidly whisper, lip quivering, "I'm scared... And confused."

"Me too, sweetheart," Fred hummed into your ear. "Me too."

You wiped away the trails of dried tears lingering on your face.

"There's just too much going on. Too much that I'm not ready for."

Realization flashed in Fred's brown eyes and they looked down at you with so much longing, sincerity, but also sympathy and understanding.

You weren't angry at him. You were afraid.

And that was alright.

There was enough time, not need for a rush.

Fred had been waiting for years to find out whether his burning feelings for you were reciprocated, constantly suppressing them in fear of scaring you away and losing you. And now that he knew your heart belonged to him like his did to you, all the stars above couldn't contain his untamed happiness, pure and hopeful.

Surely he could wait a little more for you to grow comfortable with your own emotions.

Fred tightened his hold around you and pecked your cheek tenderly, the subtle touch sending a shock throughout your body and subsiding your need for sleep.

"That's alright," he whispered. "Rest now."

@self-ship-love @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 5 years ago

Text

Ink on his heart

Summary: Here’s how Bucky Barnes got a haircut and then decided it was about damn time he controlled his own destiny - starting with a bit of ink.

Star Spangled Bingo Square: “A thoughtful gift”

Characters: Bucky Barnes x TattooArtist!Reader

Words: 7,400 Warnings: Tattoo experiences, a couple stories about war. Some swearing. Mostly lots of feels and fluff.

A/N: This one has been in my head a long time, I love tattoos and I love the idea of Bucky getting them! While I desperately wish I could draw the designs in my head, hopefully you get enough of a word picture to imagine. And yes, it is kinda long (I know, I know), but I couldn’t stop myself!

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

Not that Bucky’s counting, but it’s been three days, 18 hours and 26 minutes and he can’t get over it.

In the damp, chilly hours before dawn, he sits on the floor of the tower living room, watching the marshmallows in his hot chocolate melt in white swirls. Now and then, he lifts his eyes to the windows, finds the faint edges of his reflection in the dark glass, and tilts his head. Tentative fingers scratch through close cropped hair and a slow smile appears. Even now, he expects long strands trailing through his fingers. Believes he can feel the phantom tug of a snarl.

It was just a haircut. What a simple, ordinary thing.

But Bucky Barnes has never been ordinary.

That small act triggered a startling transformation. Decades of heartbreak fell away with that dark hair, revealing the shape of a man he begins to remember, and it makes him think. About small things, about change. About simple acts making an extraordinary difference.

The last haircut Bucky remembers before the beginning of his first ending, was January 1945. The memory came back one evening, of a tent in Austria, the heavy silence of snow drifting down. He remembers Steve with a dull scissors, snipping carefully along his ear, remembers the catch of a knife gently shaving his neck. It was a ritual they shared for years. When pennies were tight and life was tough, they took care of each other.

And then? Then there was after.

After the fall, after capture, after the world went pear-shaped. Hydra wasn’t concerned with the formalities of self-care, a haircut was functional. Sharp scissors biting into his scalp, rough hands tearing his hair, a harsh slap if he considered resisting. Get it done and get it done fast. The Asset has work to do.

He despised those haircuts.

But now, here he is. No more handlers and horrors. No more running. No more hiding. No more ropes dragging him somewhere he doesn’t want to be.

Wresting back his independence was exhilarating.

When Steve had finished this haircut - because Bucky still preferred a Steve Rogers special to anything - he’d dusted off Bucky’s shoulders and waited. Sam stood behind him, and Bucky rolled his eyes, expecting a barrage of sassy comments.

But Sam just ruffled the freshly cut hair and laughed.

“Not bad old man. Still not as handsome as yours truly, but hey - maybe someday.”

Such a simple thing, a haircut.

It makes him wonder what else he might do, just for himself.

Fuzzy and disconnected, an old memory flickers to life. It buzzes in his brain, images and connections filtering through the cracks and Bucky lets out a breathless laugh.

“Yeah,” he murmurs to himself. “Okay.”

He closes his eyes and sips his hot chocolate.

*****

Steve yawns when he answers the door. Blond hair spikes in every direction and he rubs his eyes, looking for all the world like a sleepy, overgrown toddler.

“Hey, man. Everything okay?”

Bucky leans against the doorframe and chews his thumbnail while he gathers his thoughts.

“Sure, just - can I get a favor?”

Bemused, Steve ushers him inside and Bucky plops in the red bean bag chair Steve keeps tucked beside his dresser. Stretching out his legs, he waits for Steve to flop back into bed and snuggle his pillow, before he speaks.

“Remember back in ’37 when we were coming home from that shitty bar in Midtown, and we saw that sailor getting a tattoo?”

Whatever Steve expected, it wasn’t this. It takes him a moment to conjure the image, but when it comes he belts out a laugh.

“That terrified kid gettin’ a big heart on his arm? Looked ready to shit his pants?”

Bucky grins at the memory, a milk-faced kid with hair dark and shiny as an oil-slick.

“Thought he was gonna puke on the guy.”

“Yeah, and didn’t we stand outside that window arguing while you tried to convince me we both needed one? Something about good girls liking bad boys?”

“Hey, I stand by that statement!”

“Oh fuck off, you know exactly what your Ma would’ve said if we’d come home with tattoos.”

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles. “God, she’d a skinned me alive.”

“Damn straight,” Steve agrees and they fall quiet, momentarily lost in shared memories of a woman with a voice of steel and a heart of gold.

Bucky leans forward and rests his chin on his knee.

“You know, all these years and I’ve never really - done anything like that,” he admits wistfully. “Gotten something done to me, I mean. Something I decided on my own. If that makes sense?”

Controlling his own destiny, choosing to do something by himself, instead of always accepting things done to him - the idea is intoxicating. He remembers the pained grimace on that sailor’s face and he relishes the prospect.

Pain you choose to feel holds a different meaning, than the torture he knows.

“S’never too late, Buck,” Steve says drowsily. “You can do anything you want.”

Bucky contemplates Steve’s words. He can do anything he wants. Heart beating fast, he takes a deep breath.

“So listen, I was thinking -”

*****

For two straight weeks, Steve works on ideas.

The floor of his bedroom is littered with sketches and concepts, crumpled sheets of paper dappled with flowing lines. Finally, after midnight on a dreary Thursday, he knocks on Bucky’s door. The moment it opens, he shoves his tattered leather portfolio in Bucky’s hands.

“So, I guess, uh - here.”

Steve crosses his arms, his toe tapping nervously, and Bucky chokes down a laugh. Some things about Steve Rogers remain comfortingly unchanged. No matter how incredible his work, all confidence seems to evaporate the moment Bucky lays eyes on anything.

—

“Give it back asshole!”

“God dammit Steve, YOU’RE the one who asked me to look!”

“Yeah well, I changed my mind, now give it back!”

—

Bucky remembers laughing while Steve chased him around their apartment. He remembers the neighbors banging on the wall, shouting at them to shut up, and he remembers the smell of their forgotten scrambled eggs burning. But most of all, he remembers that drawing - he tucked that portrait of his mother in his rucksack the day he shipped out and it stayed there, a good luck charm all through the war.

Steve had cried when Bucky told him.

Because Bucky’s opinion was always the one that mattered. Seventy years changes nothing.

Tonight, he opens the leather case, revealing three separate drawings. Outlines of black ink and a rainbow of colors paint over the curves and breaks of a human form and he pores over each page. Each drawing is utterly unique, telling the story of Bucky Barnes in metaphors and moments.

There are no words.

His throat feels suddenly thick, cotton lodged in his windpipe.

“I can redo them,” Steve blurts out. He snatches at the paper, but Bucky spins sideways, blocking the reach.

“The fuck you will. You ain’t touching these,” his voice cracks. Blinking back the flood of emotion, he looks up. “This is - they’re perfect, Steve. Thank you.”

Steve blushes petal pink and coughs to hide his delight. He fails miserably, of course, but that’s one more reason Bucky loves the little punk.

*****

One week later, Bucky stands before a demure brick storefront on a slow Brooklyn side street, the portfolio housing Steve’s three precious drawings clutched tight in a sweaty hand. Glancing at the address in his hand, he looks up to find stenciled letters curving across a glass window.

BROOKLYN INK ESTABLISHED 1973

“Here we go,” he mutters. Before he can lose his nerve, he shoves forward.

Three steps inside the tattoo parlor, he pulls up short.

Wow.

Black iron chandeliers hang from the ceiling, splashing sparkles across plush velvet chairs, rich violet and bright turquoise. The floor is an eclectic mix of reclaimed barn board, full of knots and whorls in every shade of brown. Artwork in black and white frames line the brick wall, tattoo designs, letters and fonts, photos of finished work. The entire space overflows with warmth, and Bucky feels instantly at ease.

The front desk is empty, but he hears someone rattling around back, so he takes a seat. Piled high on an end table are bundles of photo albums, full of work; he sinks into the cushions and starts flipping through.

Immersed in the images, he misses the sound of quiet footsteps.

“Are you James?”

The voice startles him and in one swift move, he manages to throw the album on the floor and tumble from the chair. Pages of photographs spill everywhere and he crawls over, hastily scooping them up and babbling one inappropriate apology after another.

“Shit! Sorry, I’m sorry! Shit, I mean I’m sorry for saying shit. Fuck, I didn’t - oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m not usually so - ”

Soft laughter greets him and he looks up in panic, a more refined apology on his lips, but the words evaporate.

Crouching beside him, graceful hands gather up the mess of photos, slipping them back into the album. Dropping it carelessly on the end table, she bounces back to her feet and offers him a hand.

“No worries,” she says with a breathtaking smile. “I shouldn’t have startled you.”

Although he has no need for the support, Bucky reaches mutely for her outstretched fingers because he can’t help but take them. When she tugs, he allows her to pull him up.

“I’m, um - Bucky. Please, call me Bucky.”

“Hello Bucky,” she says. She shares her name and he repeats it slowly. Clearing his throat, he takes a deep breath.

“Thanks for meeting me so late, I know it’s after hours.”

“Sure,” she says lightly. “So, what can I do for you?”

This is the tricky part.

“On the website, it mentioned you had experience with - with tattooing around scars,” he begins carefully. “Scar tissue I mean. Is that right?”

With his question, her expressions turns serious. She observes him for a long moment.

“Yes, I do. Can I ask how long you served?” she asks delicately and Bucky acknowledges her perception with a short nod. He toys with the zipper on Steve’s portfolio, debating his response.

“Seemed like forever,” he finally says, and it’s the most honest answer he has.

Nodding silently, she motions him behind the counter.

“Come on back, let’s see what you had in mind.”

Hugging the pictures to his chest, Bucky follows, eyes saucer wide as they weave through the work area to her space. The shop smells like the woodsy smoke from the candles sitting along her table, mixed with ink and latex and an odd sterile tang. He inhales and discovers he likes it, the strange scent lighting him up.

Dropping to her stool, she gestures for him to have a seat. Bucky sits gingerly, wide eyes still staring. When she catches his eye, he flushes.

“Sorry. First time I’ve been in a shop.”

“That’s okay, there’s lots to see,” she says easily. Looking at the portfolio still clutched against his chest, she grins. “Did you have some ideas already?”

He thrusts the portfolio at her. Propping it on her knees, she flips it open and he beams when he hears her astonished gasp.

“I like the colors there, if you think they’re possible?”

“Sure, might take some extra time, but I can do it,” she murmurs, pinching her lip. Turning the page sideways, she examines every minute detail, shaking her head in disbelief. “This is exquisite.”

“I’ll tell my artist. He’s a real diva sometimes.”

“I’d say he’s earned that right,” she laughs, tracing the paper with a light finger. She flips to the second picture and tilts her head. “The grays and silvers might look nice with midnight blue for contrast?”

Bucky nods eagerly. “Yeah, I love that idea.”

She looks again, examining the intricate design.

“Can you tell me about your pain tolerance? The designs are beautiful, but they’re complex. Each will take multiple sessions to finish.”

Bucky drops his eyes. He heaves a sigh at the obligatory question.

“It’s high,” he mutters. “Very - high.”

Silence follows his admission. When he dares to look up again, he feels a twinge in his chest at the compassion he finds. He offers a rueful smile and she slowly returns it.

“Would you like to come after hours? It can get noisy during the day, if you prefer things quieter. Most soldiers like that better.”

There is a sweep of relief at her casual acknowledgement. He huffs out a shaky breath.

“That would be great. If you don’t mind, I mean.”

“Not at all. I’m a night owl anyway.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says quietly. “Me too.”

She looks back to the portfolio, carefully shuffling the pages.

The third picture appears.

And Bucky sees it, that precise moment when realization sinks in. When she realizes exactly who is sitting in her chair tonight. There is no doubt the drawing gives that fact away. Heart pounding, he flinches, steeling himself for the inevitable.

But nothing happens.

She meets his nervous gaze head on and yet - that gentle smile remains.

“Bucky,” she repeats and this time she understands. “Oh. It’s nice to meet you, Bucky Barnes. Come back tomorrow night, 9pm. Don’t be late.”

He leaves the tattoo shop feeling lighter than he has in years.

*****

TATTOO 1: FOREARM

“Show me a man with a tattoo and I’ll show you a man with an interesting past.” - Jack London

*****

Perpetually early for everything, Bucky arrives at 8:45pm the next night.

The bell over the door tinkles when he enters, and she looks up from the front desk and waves. His stomach unexpectedly leaps and he thinks it must be nerves.

“Hey, Bucky,” her voice is soft.

“Evening,” he says shyly.

“You ready to do this?”

“Could hardly sleep last night,” he confesses with a grin.

Sliding timidly into her black leather chair, he watches her arrange tools on a shiny silver tray. An arm rest is attached to his right side, and he dries his sweaty palm on his jeans before easing his arm onto the cushion, palm up. When she drops onto her stool at his side, he offers a weak smile.

“You got the email I sent with all the information, right? Did you have any questions?”

He scrunches his nose, recalling the long, detailed summary she shared. For each of the three tattoos he requested, she gave him a detailed analysis of the process for creating each design; broke down how long each session would take; gave explicit instructions on the healing and care process; confirmed each individual color and how it would be applied; clarified the tools that would be used, including their brand names and how each one worked; she even provided floor plans of her shop - outlining entries and exits and bathrooms and locations of fire extinguishers.

It was a novel of information that must’ve taken her hours, and he was inexplicably grateful for the time she spent just to make him comfortable.

“No questions, I just, uh - thanks. For putting all that together. It was helpful to have all the information. Helps me keep my head on straight.”

“Of course,” she says. “So this first design should take probably 5-6 hours. Since you’re new, we’ll start with short blocks and see how it goes.”

Bucky gives a jerky nod and she pauses, pressing her fingertips against the smooth skin of his forearm.

“Here are the rules. You’re in charge, okay? We can go as fast or as slow as you need. This is not a race, and I have nowhere to be but here. Any time you want to stop, you say the word and I stop. We can take a breather, grab a cup of coffee and start again - or we can call it a night. This is your experience, Bucky. You’re in control. Understand?”

There is a fierce surge of gratitude at her words. Gratitude for her kindness, for her acceptance. Gratitude for her.

“Got it,” he whispers.

And with that, they begin.

Bucky follows each step, while she measures his arm, while she considers the contours and angles of his muscle, while she cleans and preps his skin. When she finally applies a stencil, his heart is hammering so hard his teeth are chattering.

The low buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears with a click.

When the needles touch his skin, sweat instantly beads his neck. Adrenaline drenches his tongue and for one wild moment, Bucky panics. Wonders if this was a terrible idea, because what idiot asks for pain, seriously Barnes, what the hell is wrong with you, why’re you so stupid all the -

And then - oh.

Huh.

Interesting.

Wide-eyed, Bucky follows her careful strokes, black lines appearing on his skin.

It does hurt - sort of. Obviously nothing he can’t handle; in the grand scheme of his life, this would register as a minor inconvenience, but there is a pinch.

But that spark of pain vanishes, when the raw symbolism behind Steve’s design hits him full force.

Holy shit.

How many times through the decades did Bucky Barnes die? And how many times did he rise, born again from the frozen ash of oblivion? It was simply what the Soldier did. But it was a shadow-life, nothing more. Bucky never knew how close he was to giving up, until that day above the Potomac, Steve’s bloody face beneath his furious fists. He was so far gone, so lost and forgotten, until those memories cracked the Soldier’s fierce veneer.

And suddenly he was Bucky again. Awake and alive. For the first time in 70 years he felt fire in his soul. For the first time in 70 years he could breathe.

Tears inexplicably fill his eyes.

“All okay?”

Through a tunnel, Bucky hears her voice. Hypnotized by the metaphor inking itself into his skin, his head feels waterlogged when blinks up at her.

“Sorry?”

She scans his face, her thumb rubbing the pulse thrumming at his wrist.

“Everything okay?” She asks again and Bucky feels a potent rush of euphoria.

“Yes,” he says slowly. The excitement bubbles over and he lets out an ecstatic laugh. “Yes! This is incredible. This is - fucking hell, this is amazing.”

Chuckling to herself, she bends back to her task.

“So I guess we’ll keep going?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Yeah, let’s keep going.”

Two hours later, the outline of the Phoenix is inked into his skin, crisp black lines like fresh paint. Long tail feathers are curled around his wrist, the lush feathered body splashed over his forearm, her wings spread open and curving around his arm, her head reaching toward the sky.

Born from ash. Alive again.

Bucky hates to cover it up, but she insists.

“Follow the cleaning instructions and it should be fine. We need to wait between the sessions, give you time to heal.”

At that comment, he fidgets.

“Actually, I heal pretty - fast.”

“I assumed you might. Usually I say 2-3 weeks between sessions, so how about you come back in 1 week and we can see. Let’s just make sure. Does that work?”

Bucky glances at the crisp white bandage on his arm.

“Okay, that works,” he says.

She squeezes his hand and he meets her eyes.

“You did great,” she tells him.

Bucky smiles in return. And he doesn’t stop for the next six days.

*****

When he walks into the shop for his next session, he carries a large coffee for himself and an extra large iced peach green tea for her. When he gets to the front desk, he thrusts the cup at her.

“Evening. Um, here. Saw you had one last time, so - anyway.”

“Bucky, thank you. I’ve been craving one all day.” She gives the straw an experimental bite, before taking a long drink and for some reason, the silly quirk makes his heart bounce.

After a quick check on how he’s healed, she declares him perfect and they get started, settling into a comfortable silence. After an hour of buzzing, Bucky clears his throat.

“Is it okay to talk while you work?”

“It is,” she affirms, dabbing at the ink. Glancing up, she sees hesitant blue eyes. “I’m good at listening too. Sometimes it’s nice just to listen.”

Bucky figures that’s a fair statement. He fiddles with a stray thread on his shirt.

“Do you read much?” He asks hopefully, picturing the teetering stack of books beside his bed. She perks at the question.

“I love to read. Have a pile of books on my nightstand waiting for me to find time. What about you? Are you reading anything good now? Any favorites I should know?”

Bucky swallows the happy surprise. If he could, he’d be content to spend the rest of his years with a comfortable chair, a cup of coffee, and an unending supply of stories. He could talk about books for days, he just normally keeps quiet, because most people aren’t interested in that facet of Bucky Barnes.

So he begins to talk.

He tells her how Natasha lent him all her Russian copies of Pushkin and Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, insisting that reading in the original language was infinitely better. He describes how he found a copy of Rumi’s poetry at a yard sale, and what an incredible treasure it was. He flusters recounting how much he cried reading ‘A Fault in our Stars’ and says he was scared shitless to even see a clown for a full year after reading Stephen King.

He talks and talks and talks, and when he finally stops to breathe, she glances up.

“It’s nice to hear a man who’s so well read,” she says and Bucky preens at the compliment. “Do you have an all time favorite? Something you never get tired of?”

A favorite? No question.

“Yeah, I do. Something I read during the war and kinda fell in love. It’s about here, I guess. About Brooklyn.”

At the description, her mouth quirks, but she keeps working.

“Did you ever think about a book quote for a tattoo?”

Now there’s an idea. He makes a mental note to think of a quote he could add as another tattoo. Or maybe another couple tattoos. Hell, one session in and he’s already addicted.

The comment tumbles free before he realizes he’s spoken out loud. He blushes at her laughter.

“It can be addicting,” she agrees. Bucky understands completely, seeing the vibrant crimson ink soak into his skin, painting the bird’s feathers. And then she pauses, meeting his eyes with a peculiar expression. “The right words can make you feel invincible.”

Setting the tattoo machine down, she rolls her chair back a bit and sits up straight. Lifting the hem of her shirt, Bucky sees a line of gold text inked below her ribs, his eyes following the flowing cursive.

“She was all of these things and of something more,” he reads aloud.

“‘A Tree Grows in Brooklyn’ is my favorite book too,” she says quietly. There is a long, unbroken moment where they stare into each others eyes. He should say something, he thinks. Something intelligent or witty or anything, but instead he just thinks about the fact that he found a woman in Brooklyn to permanently carve pictures into his skin and she has the same favorite book as him.

Bucky always was a sucker for fate.

“That’s - that’s really - I love that,” he finally says instead.

*****

A week later, Bucky arrives with a bundle of folders and an exasperated expression.

“This is really annoying, but do you mind if I finish some reports while you work? Got behind, someone’s gonna have my ass.” Bucky raises the papers apologetically.

“No problem,” she says easily. “Let’s keep your ass safe.”

Bending back to her task, Bucky snorts a laugh. They’re just a handful of mission reports, normally he types them soon as he returns, but lately he’s been slacking, because lately he has other things he finds more interesting.

Like the scene in front of him.

Together they work, each with their own pen. Bucky writes, she colors, and the clock on the wall ticks along. After awhile, she takes a break to stretch. Rolling her shoulders, she observes him.

“Are you left-handed?” she asks curiously and it takes Bucky a moment to think.

“Oh. Uh, not really,” he says. “But I can switch. Never been a problem.”

At the confession, she raises her eyebrows.

“That’s impressive. I wish I had a talent like that.”

He ducks his head at the praise. And he keeps writing, of course. Maybe adds a bit more flair. After all, the old Bucky Barnes did like to swagger.

*****

“Well, I think that’s it.”

It takes a beat before Bucky understands what she means. Confused, he peers up at her with a dopey expression and she gestures at his arm.

He feels his heart lurch.

It flames to life along his arm, painted in vibrant ruby red and rich crimson and deep plum, highlights edged in shining gold. Mesmerized, Bucky stares down at the lines of ink and he flexes, the tendons of his arm shifting, and the bird moves. For one wild moment, he believes if he stays still, it could leap from his skin and take flight.

It leaves him breathless.

“God, this is better - fuck, it’s so much better - than I ever imagined. How did you - wow. I don’t know how you did it, but - thank you. Thank you so much.”

Unanticipated emotion makes his voice tremble. Because this is the first time Bucky Barnes chose something permanent for himself. Serums and metal arms and bullets and blades, those were always forced upon him, his pleading refusals met with violence and sneering indifference.

But this?

This.

This is all his.

*****

TATTOO 2: BACK

“Wear your heart on your sleeve in this life.” - Sylvia Plath

*****

“So, uh, how exactly does this work?”

Standing beside the leather chair while she organizes her inks, Bucky wrinkles his nose. She looks up and motions for him to turn, straddling the chair with his chest pressed against the back.

“Are you comfortable completely removing your shirt? Or would you prefer to leave it part way on? I’ll just need it out of the way for the right side of your back.”

Bucky grimaces. Eventually she’s going to see his shoulder - he knows that - but he’s not in the mood to rip that band-aid off yet.

“Uh - let’s do part of the way if that’s okay?”

“That’s okay,” she confirms and he awkwardly tugs his right arm free, baring the broad expanse of his back. Tucking his arms in front of him, he slings a leg over the chair and rests his chin carefully on the headrest.

He says nothing, simply stays still while she absorbs the sight. Littered up and down his back are a litany of scars, puckers from the occasional bullet, thin lines from errant blades, and a few other marks he prefers not to define. His voice is muffled when he warily asks.

“Are you able to - work with it?“

“Absolutely,” she answers firmly and Bucky warms at the decisiveness in her tone. Her confidence makes him feel infinitely more positive.

This is the largest of his three tattoos, stretching from the tip of his shoulder blade and flowing down to his waist. It will also take the longest, but Bucky assures her he has no issue sitting perfectly still for hours.

It’ll be worth it. He can’t wait to show Sam - he’ll get a kick out of this one.

Once she applies the stencil over his skin, she goes to work, dropping into that headspace of deep focus. She works so quietly for so long, he falls into a trance, lulled by the melodic buzz.

When she speaks, it startles him.

“What made you decide you wanted a tattoo?”

He lays his cheek along the edge of the chair so he can see her from the corner of his eye when he answers.

“S’random, but back in ’37, me and Steve were out and I remember walking by this old tattoo shop over in Midtown. They had one of those big glass windows with the chair in front, so people could stand and watch. Anyway, we walk by and there was this kid sitting in the chair, and no fuckin’ joke, he was getting a big heart on his arm with ‘MOM’ written in the middle.”

“Ah yes, the ever popular ‘mom’ tribute. I’ve done a few of those,” she says and Bucky grins.

“Well anyway, I always kinda wanted something, you know? Thought about getting one before I shipped out, but I didn’t, and then it was - “ he pauses for a moment, but she encourages him with a questioning hmmm? and Bucky bravely pushes forward. “I had lots of years where I didn’t get to make my own decisions. And there was so much - bad shit that happened to me. Anyway, I guess I thought if someone’s gonna do something to me, I wanted it to be on my own terms. You know?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I think that makes perfect sense.”

Bucky sits quietly, contemplating. The question has been rattling around his brain for awhile and it spills free before he can stop himself.

“The whole process, it feels sort of - intimate, doesn’t it?”

He flushes at the insinuation, but intimate is the best way to describe it, he thinks, this practice of someone permanently carving their art into your skin.

“It is intimate,” she says softly, leaning closer. “It’s almost like you’re - leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin? I don’t know if that makes sense, but that’s what it’s always felt like.”

Bucky nods, watching her capable, artistic, beautiful hands as they move, slowly transferring bits and pieces of herself to him.

What a gift. He holds on tight.

*****

It was bound to happen at one of the sessions.

It’s been dark and rainy for days, buckets dumped from the heavens, the perpetual grumble of thunder always near. When Bucky comes through the front door, he feels like a wet dog. He shakes out his jacket, stomps his boots. He feels off base tonight, the result of bad sleep, bad dreams, and one particularly bad mission. He’s frustrated with himself for bringing it with him, thinks maybe he should’ve cancelled, but the thought of skipping his session - both the ink and her - was too depressing.

So instead of holing up in his room and moping under the covers, he braved the storm.

The one inside and out.

Searching for calm, he licks chapped lips.

“Hey,” he says, cringing when his voice cracks.

“Hey, Buck,” she turns cheerfully, but when she sees him squinting at her through the droplets cascading down his face, his shoulders hunched and tense, she stops. Looks him up and down and her expression softens. Beckoning him back, she digs up a towel and a dry t-shirt with ‘BROOKLYN INK’ stamped across the front, ushering him to the bathroom.

“Take all the time you need. No rush.”

Bucky mumbles his thanks and shuts the door. Gripping the sink, he glares at the mirror, at the smudge of dark beneath his eyes, at the clench of his jaw. Closing his eyes, he breathes slow and deep.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.”

He repeats the mantra, determined to settle. He’s been eager for this session all week, he’s sure as hell not ruining it because he can’t get his idiot brain to stop spinning.

When he finally emerges, he finds her arranging her work space. Halting in front of her, he keeps trembling hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes downcast.

“I’m afraid I’m poor company tonight,” he admits quietly.

“That’s okay. We can reschedule, Bucky,” she says softly and Bucky feels the disconcerting sting of tears. He rubs the heel of his hand against watery eyes.

“If it’s okay, I’d - I’d rather go ahead. Been looking forward to seeing you - uh, seeing you work, all week. It was just - “ he pauses and fights the temptation to spill his guts. No, he snarls internally, she doesn’t need to hear all your shit.

He clamps his mouth shut and shrugs instead.

She says nothing, but when she gives his hand a comforting squeeze, Bucky feels that familiar surge of gratitude. She guides him carefully toward the chair and he slumps into the seat, automatically tugging up his new shirt.

“Just close your eyes and breath. You’re okay.”

Bucky rests his chin on the edge of the chair. Troubled eyes flutter shut, and the comforting buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears, muting the sound of the storm raging outside. When he feels the prick of the needles, he lets out a weary breath. And when he feels the easy pressure of her fingers, he begins to relax.

For hours, she works. Firm strokes, painting the story across his skin.

The dark night begins to fade before she finally sets her tools aside. When he climbs to his feet, she pulls him into a gentle hug.

Bucky sinks into her arms.

That morning, the sun begins to shine.

*****

Bucky’s been sitting for a couple hours now, eyeing the brick wall behind the chair. A question pops into his head and he feels like a jerk for not asking sooner.

“Hey - all these hours together, and I never asked you - what made you want to draw on people for a living?”

She hums at the question, and he can hear the happiness in her reply.

“Well, I always wanted to be an artist. For my eleventh birthday, my best friend Mike gave me this set of gel pens, there were a million colors. When I told him I wanted to be a tattoo artist, he let me draw pictures all over him for practice. He insisted on being the first person I inked, once I got my license. Would always tell people he was the ‘original canvas’ for my brilliance.”

When she laughs, Bucky chuckles with her; it reminds him of Steve.

“Sounds like a good man,” he says.

“Yeah, he is - he was,” she quietly corrects herself. “He was an EOD specialist in Afghanistan. Right before he left for his last tour, I drew up plans for the arm sleeve he always wanted; he planned to get it when he finished. A month later, he was in a convoy that was moving through the Gereshk Valley in the Helmand Province, when an IED hit his vehicle. He didn’t make it home.”

The story hits home like a kick in the face.

Too many soldiers, too many lives. Bucky reaches back to still her hand. He slowly turns to face her, gently tugging the tattoo machine free and setting it aside. Wordlessly, he offers his hand and she accepts it gratefully, weaving her fingers through his. It takes a few attempts before she speaks again.

“It took me a long time to get through that. One day I met a friend working down at the VA, and I heard a vet talking about the scars on his legs. He sounded so - sad about them, you know? Kept saying he didn’t recognize himself anymore. And I just stood there thinking, maybe I couldn’t help Mike, but I could still do something.” Staring resolutely down, she considers her fingers still entangled with Bucky’s. “I did some research and took some classes and - learned how to tattoo on scar tissue.”

Bucky gazes at her. He feels a sweep of pride at the way she turned her tragedy into something beautiful.

“I’m so sorry that happened,” he says and she finally looks up, meeting blue eyes bright with compassion. “But you should know, what you’re doing for people, it’s incredible. And if you don’t mind me saying, I think he’d be real god damn proud of you.”

A tear slips down her cheek and she ducks her head, her whisper so low he nearly misses it.

“Thank you Bucky.”

*****

Hours later, Bucky hears a clatter of tools and her huff of relief.

“All done.”

Wiping her hands, she pops excitedly up from the stool and Bucky pushes back from the chair to follow. Without a thought, she grabs his metal hand, tugging him impatiently over to a set of floor length mirrors along the wall. Bucky grips tight and obediently follows, his pulse racing. When she positions him at the mirror, she adjusts the panels so he can see himself from all angles.

“There, have a look.”

Along his spine, the single metal wing bursts free, so intensely realistic, Bucky’s jaw drops. It arches gracefully up, curving over his shoulder blade and sweeping down his back, razor sharp feathers tickling his rib cage before billowing out above his waist. Made from silvers and grays and shaded hints of midnight blue, it glows in the light. When Bucky reaches toward the sky, the muscles shift beneath the ink and it creates the strangest sensation of feathers unfolding.

All the scars littering his back, a flesh and bone patchwork of memories left by vicious handlers and fights too close for comfort, have disappeared. Blending into the steel of his new wing, their only purpose is to strengthen the image.

After all this time, he’s come to terms with the metal arm so unwillingly gifted all those years ago. But it’s remained a relic of a past life, something heavy, to drag him down.

But now, he rolls his shoulder back and his new metal wing lifts him higher than he’s felt in a long, long time.

*****

TATTOO 3: SHOULDER

“I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.” - Haruki Murakami

*****

“So our last session.”

“Our last session,” he murmurs.

Bucky thinks for a moment that she seems glum, but maybe that’s wishful thinking.

“This is a tough one,” she warns, “but I think we can do it in one session. I won’t try and cover them up, it won’t work. The best solution is to incorporate your scars into the design. Make sense?”

Bucky pictures the pattern Steve drew, bright green leaves and vines tracing the seam of his arm, melding with the thick ribbons of raised tissue. It doesn’t matter, but he timidly asks anyway.

“Will it hurt?”

“No,” she says gently. Pressing her hand to his galloping heart, she shakes her head. “It won’t hurt much there, but you need to tell me if it hurts here. You need to tell me if I should stop. Remember, you’re in charge, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers.

Steeling himself, he whips off his shirt, balling it up in nervous hands. The cool air blowing through the shop is a relief for his overheated body.

“Do you mind if I feel the skin here? So I can make sure I approach it right?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Bucky mumbles. Staring at his hands, he waits.

Leaning close, her fingers brush over him, feeling the lines and ridges, assessing the canvas. For ten minutes, she tests his skin, lightly pushing and pressing, observing the scars and bumps where metal meets man.

“Does it still hurt?”

She doesn’t want to ask, but needs to know what she’s working with. With a grim smile, he shrugs.

“Not really. Aches sometimes, but doesn’t hurt. Can’t feel much there besides some pressure.”

Nodding, she pinches her lip. “I was thinking last night, um - would you want to add anything else into the design? Nothing big, but a few flowers? Some daisies maybe?”

“Sure, I’d like that. Any reason for daisies?” Bucky asks curiously.

Pulling out a few additional bottles of ink, she absently touches the necklace at her throat, and Bucky sees a silver daisy spinning.

“Daisies represent new beginnings. Thought it might be a nice way to end, if you like?”

Does he like it? The idea of having this small thing in common?

Hell yes he likes it.

Maybe - maybe he even more than likes it?

“Yeah. That sounds perfect,” he says softly. He swallows hard and she nods encouragingly.

“Okay. Remember - stop me if you need a break.”

This one, Bucky knows will be hard. It was the reason he left it to the end - the mental fortitude required here is much different.

As she begins, he contemplates the pink furrows gouged into his skin. The memory of how they got there flashes before him, a sick image of shredded skin raked bloody beneath his blunt fingernails. Faint screams of a past life echo in his ears, the smokey cry of his own voice desperate for relief from the pain.

Cold sweat slides down his face and he slams his eyes shut, but that seems to make it worse. The images glow technicolor bright, and he grunts a frustrated breath.

And then, through the thin latex of her glove, he feels her cool hand press against his pounding heart. Cracking an eye open, he finds her calm face and he focuses on her, until his breathing begins to ease. Blinking rapidly, he drinks in the curve of her nose, the shape of her mouth, the beauty of her eyes.

His heart stutters, stunning him into a different kind of breathless.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, wide eyes locked on hers. “Yeah, I’m okay. You can keep going.”

When she bends back to her task, Bucky melts. It occurs to him, that perhaps if she might let him, he could be content watching her forever.

But for tonight, this forever lasts only a few hours before she’s done.

And there it is.

Shades of green line his shoulder, the vines curling and winding around his scars, blending them seamlessly into the foliage covering his skin. Spidering vines trail across his chest, and it seems incompatible in a way, something alive bursting from the stark metal, but the leaves look so real, he swears they flutter with each breath he takes. Strewn throughout the greenery, small splotches of yellow and white reveal her daisies and he sucks in a breath.

For the first time in his life, Bucky stares at his scars and a foreign word comes to mind, one he never, ever thought to use.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. “They’re beautiful.”

*****

And so, after 3 months and 30 hours together, they were done.

Hands in his pockets, Bucky gazes at her. Ink on her hands, ink on his heart. It hits him then, this is it. They shuffle, making small talk, neither ready to say goodbye.

“Promise you’ll come back if you decide on anything else. Tattoos, piercings, anything,” she teases and Bucky laughs.

“Told you, I might be a little addicted,” he admits, knowing full well he means to tattoos and to her. “Soon as I can think of a reason, I’ll be back.”

“I hope so,” she says. There is a brief moment where she seems to gather her courage and then she leans in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “You’re a work of art, Bucky, but - you were before any of this. Remember that.”

Dazed, Bucky touches his cheek.

Indelible and perfect, the tattoo of her lips inks itself straight onto his heart.

*****

When she arrives at the shop the next day, there is a new sight sitting on the front desk.

Daisies, their white petals and yellow faces as fresh as the afternoon sunshine filtering through the window. Bemused, she looks around the bustling shop and spies the card propped beside the overflowing vase, her name scrawled across the front.

“When I got home, I stood in front of the mirror for hours, staring at your artwork. Every time I told myself to go to sleep, I found something new I loved. The tail feathers on my Phoenix or the petals of your daisies. What you’ve given me is more than I ever hoped - I can never thank you enough.

But anyway, I remembered what you said - how this kind of art is like leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin.

Well, I won’t lie - you must have done, because I miss you already.

So at the risk of being forward (although I did break into your shop and leave this, so maybe this won’t seem that forward), would you have dinner with me?

I think there’s another new beginning waiting out there, if you’d like to find it with me.

Yours,

Bucky”

At the bottom of the note, a phone number is printed.

Brushing her fingers over the delicate white petals, she pictures him, that dark haired man with eyes like blue ink, so heartbreakingly beautiful inside and out. She feels the unconscious pull of her heart, telling her all she needs to know.

A new beginning.

She says yes.

*****

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #SSB2020 #bucky fic #bitsmasterlist #tattoos #tattoo trope

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spcncershybrid · 4 years ago

Text

She will kill us all- Fred Weasley Imagine

GIF IS NOT MINE

(Summary: Your two best friends rope you into their recent prank little did you know you would be hurt too.)

Fred Weasley X Reader

So basically I’ve seen a lot of people being like ‘oh just imagine Fred’s death being a prank and at the funeral George stays behind and Fred just wakes up saying what a good prank.’ so uh here is something similar. There will be a second part!

April 29th , 1998

“Hey Y/N.” The twins say in unison as I enter their shop.

“Hey why is the closed sign up?” I say pointing to the door.

“We have a plan-“ George starts.

“-a brilliant, heart wrenching, sad idea.” Fred finishes.

“The both of you and plans is never a good thing.” I say sighing.

“Also if it’s just the both of you doing it why did you guys call me?” I ask confused.

“Well our mother won’t kill you for the idea we have planned.” Fred says nodding over to his brother who agrees.

“Just spill your brilliant, heart wrenching, sad idea” I say looking at them suspiciously.

“Well so you know how the whole situation with the Dark Lord is happening.” George says.

“Yes?” I question looking at them.

“Well one of us is planning on fake dying-” Fred says.

“I already hate the sound of this.” I cut him off.

“So I can fake die then at the funeral you guys can hide my body then we can all go home.” Fred finishes raising his eyebrows at me.

I dryly laugh. They can’t be serious. That idea is insane.

“We know what you're thinking-” Fred starts.

“Yeah that you’re insane!” I exclaim looking at them.

“She will literally kill us when she finds out!” I say rubbing my eyes in disbelief.

They really want me to be a part of this!

“She won’t hurt a hair on your head.” George says as Fred nods agreeingly.

“You know what. The thing I get in return better be amazing for helping you gits.” I groan.

“Yes, she’s on board!” George and Fred cheer circling around me.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

May 2nd, 1998

Today’s the day.

Instead of you-know-who killing us Molly Weasley definitely will.

I can’t believe I agreed to this.

“You ready guys?” George asks looking over to Fred and I.

“Ready to die at the hands of your mother.” I say sarcastically as I twirl my wand along my fingers.

They both laughed at my words and George headed inside.

Fred and I stare at the chaos engulfing around the school.

“After this we should go on a date.” Fred says swaying back and forth.

“Oh Fred Weasley you’ll be the death of me.” I groan softly looking up at him.

“Not if my mum kills you for helping us.” He says laughing as he stares back at me.

I roll my eyes at him and punch his arm.

“So will you?” He asked a playful smirk resting on his lips.

“Sure.” I say giving him a side hug as I notice Percy come upstairs.

“You go with Perce. I'll help fight inside. I promise I’ll be safe.” I say letting him go kissing his cheek.

“I promise I’ll stay alive for our date.” He says kissing the top of my head before going with Percy.

I run inside the building dodging the falling rocks and have my wand held high prepared for the fight of my life.

Little did I know it’ll be the one thing to fight for.

Later in the Great Hall

I walk beside George slightly limping as we enter the Great Hall. Immediately being met with sadness seeing our fallen friends whose lives have ended.

“Why is my mum crying?” George says as he stops abruptly.

“George who’s that on the floor?” I ask stopping next to him as my body grows cold.

Molly looks over at us, tears falling down her face.

We run over to her, dropping to our knees next to Fred’s body.

“There was an explosion that sent him flying into a wall. There was nothing I could do.” Percy said stunned as he watched the pair cry.

“No. You arse you promised!” I whisper angrily as I clutch his clothing tears already making its way down my face.

“Fred! Oh my gosh Fred!” I sob as I shake his body vigorously hoping his eyes would open.

”Come on brother please this was supposed to be a prank.” George whispered for only us to hear.

“He’s dead. My precious boy is dead.” We hear Molly say as we stand.

I look over to George and hug him. We both sob in each other’s arms, parts of us dying with the boy that lie on the floor.

One Week Later

I look into the mirror as I smooth out my black dress.

Today is the funeral. Fred’s funeral.

I take a deep breath and head down the stairs meeting the Weasley family.

We stand together mourning the loss of Fred, each of us nearly tearing ourselves apart as we look at his body lying peacefully in the casket.

“I wish this was a stupid prank.” I whisper to myself.

George walks up to me and stands beside me.

“So much for the plan.” George said sadly as we watched Arthur and Molly cry as they held one another.

“We’ll lay him down tomorrow morning. Morning was his favorite.” Molly said as she headed inside.

Soon enough the Weasleys head inside leaving George and I with the casket.

“You know he promised me he’ll stay safe. He even asked me out before the whole mess.” I say breaking the silence between us.

“Before the war he wanted to ask you out. He fancied you a lot. Ron and I bet each other a galleon if you two got together. I guess I owe him one.” George says laughing quietly recalling the memory.

________________

“They surely will get together.” Ron said as he stared at Y/N and Fred laughing and scheming together.

“They won't, they're both scared.” George said watching the pair.

“They would look cute together. Have you seen him when she’s near.” Ron said, staring at his brother sitting in front of him.

“You should’ve heard him yesterday talking about her. She walked in and he turned as red as our hair.” George says laughing.

“We should set a bet. One single galleon.” Ron said, smirking as he watched as Y/N slapped Fred’s arm playfully.

“You’re on brother. I bet that they won’t get together. This will be easy; they are both too scared to ask each other out. The Yule ball was pure luck for them. It’s been this way since second year.” George says confidently holding out his hand.

“I bet that they will get together.” Ron says matching his brother's confidence and gladly shakes his hand.

“Remember when he stepped on my foot during the ball.” I say laughing with him.

“I thought you would never walk again after. I was surprised he asked you seeing as you burnt the paper ball he threw at you to ask you in the first place.” George says laughing as we both reminisce on the events of the Triwizarding Tournament era of our lives.

________________

“He won’t ask me Angela, it's pure knowledge. Fred Weasley doesn’t like me.” I say sadly looking ahead at a Hufflepuff pair of students walking hand and hand after being asked to the infamous Yule Ball.

“He surely will. Just give him time.” Angela says comforting me.

“I sure hope so.” I say looking at her and get back to writing in my book.

Later on…

We all sat in the Great Hall as Snape walked past us, book nestled in front of his face.

Fred has non stop been flinging paper balls my way nearly getting me in trouble.

Out of my peripheral vision I notice him ball up another piece of paper.

I pull out my wand concealing it under the table as Snape walks past up stopping right behind Angela, who might I add is sitting right next to me.

Fred chucks the paper towards me but I react quickly.

“Incendio.” I say pointing my wand to the paper watching it burn and the charred pieces fall onto the table.

“Fred Weasley if you throw another paper ball my way I will use that spell on you.” I say glaring at him as I naturally get fed up.

“Open it next time.” He hissed looking at me.

Angela and George snicker watching the two of us bicker at each other.

A few moments pass and I silently pray that he won’t throw another.

I look around the room and hear a small thud in front of me.

I look down noticing a scrunched up piece of paper in front of me resting on top of my book.

I look over to Fred who’s motioning for me to open the paper.

I uncurl the ball and read it.

‘Georgie told me you were complaining about not having anyone to go with to the ball. So Y/N Y/L/N I invite you a one night Weasley special. Will you go to the ball with me? As friends.’

I smile at the scribbled writing and look up at him. He’s mimicking a ball like dance and nods to me. I roll my eyes and nod back as he cheers silently.

Although it was only as friends I was overjoyed.

“Told you.” Angela whispered to me as the twins get back to work.

Day of the Yule Ball

“Does this color seem tacky?” I ask Angela as I twirl in the mirror.

“It’s simple and cute. Fred will lose his mind looking at you in that.” Angela says as she smooths out her dress.

The dress wasn’t too elegant but it wasn’t plain either. It was a simple blue dress with glitter cascading the bottom half reminding me of the night sky.

I link arms with Angela as we head down the grand staircase making our way to the twins.

George and Angela grab each other’s hand and walk away leaving Fred and I standing alone.

We stare at each other not sure of what to say.

“You look beautiful.” Fred said looking at me.

“Thank you. You don't look too bad either.” I say laughing as we head inside where the students gather waiting for the champions to arrive.

After a while everyone dances with each other. I on the other hand stay sitting down watching the night unfold before my eyes.

“Come on you said you’ll dance.” Fred said walking over to me holding out his hand.

I grab his hand reluctantly and he pulls me to him as we sway back and forth to the beat of the song.

That was until we twisted too quick and his foot stepped harshly on mine causing me to wince in pain.

“I am so so sorry.” Fred apologizes profusely as he guides me to a table.

“It’s alright just remind me to never dance with you ever again.” I say jokingly as I slip off my heels noticing a large bruise slowly appear on it.

“Noted.” He said sheepishly as he helped me stand and led me to Madam Pomfrey.

________________

“You alright.” George says snapping me out of my memory.

“I will be.” I say sadly before turning on my feet and enter the Weasley home, leaving George outside.

I head upstairs not even bothering to stay down knowing I’ll break down at the sight of everyone upset.

Meanwhile...

George paces around outside staring at the open casket blankly.

What if the potion went wrong when he got hurt? He thought.

Yes he was scared that his brother was truely dead, the thought horrified him. The day their mum pronounced Fred dead he was scared believing he died.

But what if that wasn’t the case? He thought as he stopped.

He entered the house and looked around seeing if anyone was up. He quietly entered the different rooms noticing everyone asleep from the long day.

He quietly exited the home and went up to the casket staring at his brother's pale face.

Remember George just pinch him and he’ll wake up. We made this up ourselves. George thought to himself as he stood over the body.

His hand waved over his brother’s and pinched the back of Fred’s palm.

George stepped back and stared at him silently praying the potion worked. It had been a week at most since Fred ingested the potion.

Slight movement was beginning to be noticeable and suddenly Fred’s eyes were wide open taking in the night sky. He coughed slightly as George silently cheered.

“Welcome back to the land of the living brother.” George said, helping his brother out of the casket.

“How long was I out from that awful potion?” Fred said his legs buckled as he stood up for the first time in a week.

“A week.” George said, stabilizing his brother.

“Oh man how mad do you reckon they’ll be?” Fred asked, getting excited to see his family's reaction to the whole ordeal.

“Very. Y/N and I cried a lot. Mum and dad cried enough to fill an ocean.” George said laughing.

“You and Y/N cried? You saw me take the potion and I told you to tell her.” Fred said, slightly confused remembering the moment like it was yesterday.

“Beware drinking this might taste like what cat litter smells like.” George said, handing a special blended potion to knock Fred out.

“We don’t even own a cat. How do you know what it smells like?” Fred asked, causing George to roll his eyes.

”I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Fred said as he stared at the bottle.

“Me neither.” George says smiling widely.

“So after I drink this what will you do to wake me up.” Fred said mixing around the liquid watching it swish together.

“All I have to do is pinch you and you’ll wake up.” George said.

“Okay so it’ll affect me later during the war and make sure you tell Y/N so she doesn’t think I died for real.” Fred said as he held the bottle to his lips.

“Of course brother.” George said as he watched Fred drink the potion.

Fred gagged as he drank the potion as the different flavors coated his throat.

“Of course we cried. Percy said you were hit by an explosion that sent you into a wall. I thought you died for real. But later on in the night I remembered the potion would have protected you from anything.” George said as his brother regained mobility.

“So why did Y/N cry?” Fred asked, crossing his arms.

“I never told her about the potion Freddie. She was worked up about the war and it slipped my mind.” George confessed causing his brother.

“She cried over my dead body because you forgot to tell her I wasn’t actually dead! George, that was one thing that wasn’t supposed to happen.” Fred silently exclaimed.

Fred never wanted Y/N to cry over the prank. They already dragged her into the idea he didn’t want her to be heartbroken over the fact that he wasn’t really dead.

“We both thought you were dead Fred. There was no way of telling if you were alive or not.” George argued back.

“Please tell me that she didn’t cry for the whole week.” Fred said, staring at his brother.

George stood silently.

“She will be furious you know. Oh gosh she’ll probably hate me after this.” Fred said, running a hand through his hair.

“She wouldn’t hate you Fred. If anything she’ll hate me.” George says laughing slightly.

“We’ll worry about that tomorrow for the big reveal.” George says shrugging as he guides his brother to a shed on the property.

________________

“Where’s my boy? He’s gone!” Molly Weasley’s shocked voice pierces through the quiet home.

I quickly get up and head downstairs.

What does she mean he’s gone?

“He should be in the casket Mrs. Weasley. I don’t think we have grave robbers.” I say rubbing my eyes as everyone comes down the steps.

“He’s not here!” She yelled, sounding shocked.

Ron and Harry ran into the living room in confusion as they heard the commotion.

“Who’s not here?” Ginny asked as she walked in.

“Fred.” Molly said as she clasped her hand over her mouth.

I furrow my eyebrows and look around the room noticing one person of the Weasley clan isn’t here. George.

I huff and stomped upstairs. I walk along the hallway and knocked on his door furiously.

“Come in.” I heard him say.

I open the door angrily.

“You better have one hell of an explanation Weasley.” I hiss.

“On?” He asked confused as he sat up from his bed.

“Where is he?” I say crossing me arms.

“Who are you talking about?” He asked as he stood up from his bed.

“The bloody grindylow’s. You know exactly what I’m talking about George Weasley. Where is he?” I ask my voice raising slightly as I tap my foot on the floor.

“Y/N I wanted to tell you.” George started.

“Tell me where he is or you're both dead for real.” I say staring at him sternly.

“He’s at the shop. He’s in the flat.” George said as he stared down at his feet.

“This isn’t over.” I say as I walk out of his room.

I walk over to the room I’m staying in and grab my wand. I grab my old quidditch jumper and apparate to Diagon Alley.

I walked down over to the joke shop. I placed my hand on the handle and opened the door. I made my way towards the flat and opened it. Low and behold what do I see, Fred Weasley.

“Why are you here?” He asked startled.

“You’re lucky I don't have your head on a pike and because I know how to apparate properly.” I spat.

“Look, I know you’re mad.” Fred said as he put down a book.

“That’s not even the beginning Weasley. You had me worried sick you were dead for crying out loud. I cried for you, Fred and you’re here alive. Was the prank worth it? Was it worth the tears and the heartbreak? So help me on Gryffindor’s name was this whole thing worth it.” I yell at him as I bite back tears. Some cascaded down my face and I quickly wiped them.

“Y/N I’m sorry. I told George to tell you.” Fred said, his voice cracking.

“You’re sorry is all you have to say for yourself! You can forget about that damned date! Don’t even contact me!” I spat angrily as I ran out the room and down the steps.

I wiped away my tears and apparated back to my room at the Burrow.

“Stupid Weasley’s.” I muttered as I grabbed my rucksack off the bed. I began to fill it with my things.

After a few minutes most of my things were packed. I grabbed a fresh piece of parchment and sat down at the desk.

‘Dear Molly Weasley,

Sorry I won’t be here for the funeral. My condolences but I’m leaving. I wish you all the best. I'll be with my parent’s. Thank you for giving me a place to stay for the week I appreciate it.

Love,

Y/N Y/L/N’

I sealed the letter with tape and placed it onto my desk. I grab at my broom and open the window. I hop onto the broom and clutch the top. I pushed my feet off the window sill and flew off. The trip won’t be too long but it’ll probably take a while.

I soared through the air and sighed. I am going to miss them.

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #george weasley #harry potter imagine #fred weasley smut #harry potter #harry potter smut

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spooderboyandtincan · 4 years ago

Text

You're Gonna Miss Me When I'm Gone

Chapter 2

There’s a spider on the ceiling.

Peter can barely make out its eight gangly legs through a blur of tears. He feels some sort of bond with it- not only because of the DNA they share- but because they’re both alone. Then again, the spider has probably spent its entire life in this room, and Peter’s only been here- on a whole different continent- for a good couple of hours.

Maybe it’s just the jet lag. According to literally anyone who’s known him at all- he gets adorably grumpy when he hasn’t gotten his beauty sleep (Tony’s words, not his.)

Who does he think he’s kidding? He’s homesick, he’s alone, and he really, really misses Tony. Misses him as in the his heart is literally being torn apart sort of missing. He wishes he’d considered how his severe separation anxiety might play a part in this when he’d still had a choice.

Peter chokes on a whine- the one that forces its way out of his throat until he’s full on sobbing and gasping for breath.

He scrambles for his phone on the nightstand. He needs Tony, he needs him, like a fish needs water. He fumbles with the lock screen and desperately taps on Tony’s icon (a picture of Tony holding a proudly displaying a mug that reads “Number 1 Iron Dad.”) It rings once, twice-

“Pete? How’s it going, kiddie?” Tony’s voice, so gentle, so full of love and concern- he already knows something’s wrong, of course, because his Dad Senses are off the charts- makes the tear in his heart rip open.

“Tony,” he sobs. “Tony. I don’t- I can’t, I can’t do this. I wanna go home, Tony.”

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay Petey, breathe for me okay?” He can hear, just barely over his sobs, that Tony is pacing, can hear that his breathing is just a bit too fast, and Peter feels awful for freaking him out, but just can’t stop crying.

“‘M so sorry,” he wails, “‘M so sorry. I-I wanna go home, I want you Tony.” He grasps his pillow tightly and buries his face in it, trying to stifle his sobs, pretending that Tony is there, wrapping his arms around him, kissing his hair, rocking them back and forth.

“I know, baby, I know,” Tony croons, “Everything’s gonna be okay, we’re okay. Right now I just need you to take a deep breath, buddy- in, two-three, out, two-three, okay?” Tony demonstrates for him, taking exaggerated inhales and exhales, which are probably benefiting him as much as they are Peter. “You’ve got this, Pete, I know you do.”

“I miss you, Tony,” Peter whispers after a few seconds of shaky breathing. “I wanna go home.” He feels so immature, begging Tony to fly across the Atlantic in the dead of night just because he’s a little homesick.

Tony, however, seems to consider his request very seriously. “Do you want me to fly out? I could be there in a few hours.”

Peter almost laughs, imagining Tony arriving to the hotel at daybreak, dressed only in sweatpants and a stained AC/DC t-shirt. It’s actually not a bad idea- Tony could act as a chaperone, they could explore the city together, make another precious memory.

“Yeah, um, that-that would be great, Tony,” he sniffs, wiping the wetness of his cheeks. “A-are you sure? I don’t wanna, like, make you, there’s probably Iron, um, Iron Man things, I don’t-”

“Pete, listen to me,” Tony interrupts, voice again so impossibly gentle. “Nothing- nothing- is more important to me than you, understand? I’m here for you. Always”

Peter smiles wetly, relaxing back into the covers, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I know. Tony?”

“Yeah, bud?

“Can-can you, um, talk? Please?”

“‘Course I can, Pete. What about?” Tony says fondly. The idea that his voice can bring such comfort to this sweet kid makes him feel all… schmoopy.

“Anything. I just… wanna hear your voice, s’all.” He tugs the covers up and curls into a ball, resting the phone on the pillow next to his ear.

“I’ve got you, bud,” Tony says. I miss you too. “Oh, you’ve gotta know what DUM-E did today….”

Peter feels himself relaxing as Tony talks about his day. It’s not just the words that soothe him, but the familiar sound of his warm voice that’s full of such love and affection. His thoughts begin to wander as he drifts into a barely conscious haze, but the voice remains steady and present in his mind.

Tony is quick to notice that Peter is on the precipice of slumber and wakefulness, and is just as quick to provide the last bit of reassurance Peter needs to fall asleep. “Sweet dreams, buddy. I love you,” he murmurs.

Just before Peter slips away, he finds himself slurring, “Love you too.”

Tony stays on the call for a solid ten minutes after Peter conks out, listening to the steady whoosh of his breathing against the speaker. Before he finally makes himself hang up, he whispers a quiet, “‘Night, Petey. I’ll be there before you know it.” Tony leaves for the airport at daybreak, not able to spend another second in that horribly empty penthouse. The absence of Peter’s presence is tremendously obvious, and Tony finds himself desperately trying not to imagine the unimaginable.

~~~~~

With a pilot on-call 24-7, and without the hassles of a public airport, he’ll be back with Peter around early afternoon.

Thank god.

He steps out of the Cadillac, barely noticing the blistering wind and the tiny snowflakes biting at his cheeks in his haste to board the plane. He greets the pilot- Allison, he thinks- with a nod, but she gestures to stop when he moves towards the stairs.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark!” she says over the howling wind. “We just can’t fly in this weather!”

To hell with that, Tony thinks. “When’s it letting up?”

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Stark,” Allison says apologetically. “Not for a few days at least.”

Tony activates the suit with a simple tap of his watch, the nanobots rushing over him within seconds. Allison gasps and jumps back, gaping as he rockets into the air.

He’s been flying for a good 50 seconds before a neon red warning lights up the HUD.

“Boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y says, tone filled with caution. “The wind is blowing at a speed of 78 mph. I must advise that you return to the ground immediately, or you run the risk of losing control of the suit.”

Tony curses loudly. Just his luck, really. “How high is the risk?”

“89%, boss.”

“So, not all that bad,” he chuckles.

Then, F.R.I.D.A.Y reminds him how devastated Peter would be if anything happened to him.

Tony returns to his car on foot and pulls out his phone to call Peter.

~~~~~

Peter basks in the sunlight outside of a bustling café, sipping from a cup of hot chocolate. He’s ordered a chocolate croissant, and added the tasteless protein powder Tony and Bruce had synthesized to keep up with his spidey metabolism to his mug. Despite the jet lag, he’s eager to explore the city and it’s merits, his enthusiasm only growing knowing that Tony will be here within a few hours.

Feeling pleasantly full, Peter leans back in his chair- it’s an armchair, on a stool, and it’s driving him nuts, he loves it- and beams at Ned, who lounges next to him in an identical chair. “Dude,” he says.

“Dude,” Ned agrees.

Peter is grinning, Ned is grinning, the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, life is sweet-

Peter’s phone rings.

His first thought is that Tony’s plane has crashed.

His second is one of relief when he realizes it’s Tony who’s calling him.

His third is that his plane has crashed, and Tony’s calling him, mortally wounded, to say goodbye.

Ned stares at him, taking in the panicked look on his face, and mouths You good? Peter shakes his head and scrabbles for his phone.

“Pete?” Tony says as soon as he’s answered. He sounds fine, at least. “Hiya.”

“Are you okay?” Peter asks first, because he knows that even if Tony sounds like he’s fine, that doesn’t mean he is.

“Yeah. Yeah, Petey, I’m just fine, I promise,” Tony assures him. Peter relaxes in his chair, flashing Ned a quick thumbs up, because knows Tony would never lie to him, especially not if he was hurt. “How’re you doin’?”

Peter’s face lights up. “Oh, great! There are like, dogs everywhere here, even in the restaurants, and I saw this German Shepherd eating like- dog ice cream or something? And I got this super good chocolate croissant where we’re having breakfast. Y’know, I really thought the jet lag would be super bad but I’m not like, tired at all yet!”

“Aw, buddy, that’s great, I’m glad you’re havin’ a good time,” Tony says, voice dripping with fondness. “You’re drinking enough water, staying hydrated and all that, right?”

“Yup! Are you?”

Tony scoffs. “‘Course I am. Hafta set a good example n’ shi- stuff.” Peter snorts. He knows Tony does his best not to curse around his- and he quotes- “young, unsullied ears" but he ends up failing quite a lot.

“Which reminds me bud, how’s Ted?” Peter’s best friend’s health has pretty much no correlation with cursing, which makes the teen think that Tony has a specific reason for asking about him. He decides not to bring it up though.

“It’s Ned,” he sighs in mock frustration. And he’s good, he’s right next to me! I guess I didn’t tell you yesterday, but the hotel guy put us into two different rooms ‘cause they had extra or something and we didn’t realize ‘til we got to our rooms.” He sighs again then, for real, his good mood evaporating.

Tony’s Dad Senses pick up on it instantaneously. “Not ideal, huh?” he says gently, which earns him a small laugh from the kid. “D’you want me to talk to them?”

Peter nods sheepishly, then realizes Tony can’t see him. “Yeah. Thank you,” he says in a small voice, embarrassed that the genius is going to all this trouble just because he’s a little lonely. “Are you gonna be here soon?” he asks then, because he misses Tony, misses him just like he knows Tony is missing him.

Tony clears his throat. When he speaks, the guilt in his voice could rip him in half. “About that, buddy, well- Jesus, Pete, I’m so sorry. The, uh, the wind is too dangerous for me to fly over, and it’s not letting up ‘til around Monday. I’m so sorry, kiddo.”

Peter’s heart sinks. “Oh,” he says numbly.

He hears Tony lurch up. “Hey, Petey- shit, I’m so sorry, buddy. I- you know what, fuck it, I’ll fly over anyway, I-”

“No! No, I’m okay, I’m fine!” Peter says, wincing silently at the forced cheeriness in his voice, and knowing that Tony has seen right through.

“Hey, hey, buddy, it’s okay, I’ll be perfectly safe-”

“You can’t,” Peter pleads, desperate to keep Tony safe. “Please, Tony, you can’t, you’ll crash, or-”

“Whoa, Petey, deep breaths,” Tony interrupts, voice gentle. “I’m right here, I’m fine, you hear me?” He waits for Peter’s breathing to resume a steady rate, then says, “Bub, I won’t fly over if it’s not safe, I promise.”

Peter sighs. He’s relieved beyond belief that Tony is keeping both feet on the ground where he’ll be safe- he better be- but he misses the billionaire more than ever.

“And hey, who knows, maybe the wind’ll let up in a few hours!” Tony chuckles. Sobering a little, he says, “If the weather is on schedule, I’ll be there on Monday, 6 am, sharp.”

Peter prays he will. “I miss you, Tony,” he mumbles- he feels childish, knowing that he’s just begged the man to stay in New York, and now is just making him more miserable knowing that he’s miserable.

“I miss you too, Petey,” the genius murmurs back, voice filled with sorrow.

“Peter!” The phone nearly flies out of Peter’s hand as Mr. Harrington taps on his shoulder. He gasps a little, and though his teacher doesn’t seem to notice, Tony sure does, his gentle voice turning harsh with barley contained panic. “Who was that, Pete? Are you okay?”

“Um-” he tries.

“Come on, now! The bus is almost here, I can see it around the corner!” Mr. Harrington says loudly, and abruptly struts off, frantically waving down the bus that is already stopping.

“Peter!” Tony exclaims.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, it was just Mr. Harrington,” he rushes to reassure him. Tony breathes out a heavy sigh of relief. “Uh, the bus is here, I- I have to go.” He hurries to catch up with his best friend.

“I love you,” Tony says. “I love you so much, Pete, stay out of trouble, be safe.”

He doesn’t want to say goodbye. Neither of them do.

“I love you, Tony,” says Peter. “I’ll be safe, don’t worry about me!”

And with that, the call ends.

#wip #chapter 2 #peter parker #tony stark #protective tony stark #worried tony stark #anxious peter parker #irondad #spiderson #roger harrington #ned leeds #anxiety #anxious thoughts #spider-man #iron man #st*rkers dni

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ur-favorite-queer-queen · 4 years ago

Text

Second Chance

For Maribat March day 12 theme second chance

Master List

Sometimes Marinette really wished Penny and Jagged hadn’t adopted her. It’s not that she didn’t want to be a Rolling-Stone, no that wasn’t it. In fact, she was grateful that they had saved her from the horrors that Paris now held for her. It’s just they dragged her to stuff like this, some rich man’s gala.

She had slept for a full 12 hours after finishing Penny’s dress, only to wake up to the news she was coming with them. She probably should’ve seen it coming. Although she was hoping this would be one of the lucky cases where she didn’t have to go. Despite her protests they insisted she needed to interact with other humans who weren’t serving her coffee. In Jagged’s words, “Who knows, you might make a rock n roll friend!”

Now here she was, in her black and purple dress that matched Penny’s and Jagged’s outfits. Letting a bit of her anxiety out as she fiddled with the strap of her matching purse. Watching her parents mingle with the rich folk while she stood off to the side. Every once in a while they would cast her a ‘go make a friend’ look but it never bothered her, she just needed to wait until they stopped turning to look back at her.

After about 10 minutes they stopped, perfect. She casually asked a waiter where the bathroom was and made her way there. Once inside she slipped off the pearl anklet that was Daizzi’s miraculous, letting the kwami make her way into her purse, before pulling out a familiar nose ring. Now that Jagged and Penny were letting her do her own thing, she could go back to scaring people into not socializing with her. While she would’ve loved to keep Daizzi’s miraculous on so that it could combat Stompp’s miraculous side effects, she learned that it took too much energy to do so. And she didn’t want to explain why she was so tired after the gala if she wasn’t talking to anyone.

She schooled her features before making her way back out sending a cold look to anyone who tried to come up to her. She pulled out her phone only to see that 2 hours had passed, she still had 4 more to go. Time was moving much too slowly for her liking.

A clearing of the throat brought her out of her thoughts. She rolled her eyes, putting her phone back in her purse, getting ready to glare at the person who was going to try to talk to her, only to stare in shock at the green eyes that were watching her. The same ones that had bumped into her just days before. The same ones she had sworn she probably wouldn’t ever see again.

Her mouth moved without her permission, again she blames Stompp, “You.”

He smiled or maybe it was a smirk, responding with way too much amusement, “Me.”

She once again schooled her features to look bored, but she’s pretty sure her eyes gave her away with the way he reacted, “What are you doing here?”

Just like before it took him a moment to reply, his smirk growing just the tiniest bit, “I’m always invited to these things, I’ve never seen you before though.”

“With any luck this will be the last time you see me.” She remarked. She didn’t mean to be so rude again she blames Stompp but she really hadn’t expected to see him. To his credit he didn’t seem deterred by her cold vibe, if anything he seemed more determined.

“Why would you say that?”

“These types of things,” She waved her hand around, motioning to the room, “Just aren’t my thing. My parents make it look so easy, but I’ve never been one for this kind of scene. Plus I leave Gotham in a few days.”

“Desperate to get out here?”

“You could say that.”

“Who are your parents?”

She raised an eyebrow, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” If this was the game he wanted to play she would play it. Trying to find out who she was by asking about her parents, real subtle. Well Mr. Hot shot, she’s letting Stompp take the wheel now.

“You know, you make trying to have a conversation pretty hard.”

She rolled her eyes at him, not even trying to stop them from rolling, “Who says I wanted this conversation?” It was a rhetorical question. She turned to leave only for him to grab her wrist.

Suddenly she was brought back to that night. The night that changed everything. Three pieces of jewelry in her hand, two brooches one ring, her earrings 2 beeps away from her transformation leaving her.

A pale hand holding her wrist, keeping her from running away. Green eyes and blond hair belonged to the owner of the hand.

It had happened too fast. One second she was getting ready to run and detransform. Then someone had stopped her, she turned around to meet hungry green eyes. She froze as she felt lips pressed onto her own. It was only the beeping of her earring that brought her back to reality. A knee to the groin, and she pushed him off of her. Letting the police deal with the trio as she fled.

She turned to the owner of the tan hand that was holding her back and could only register green eyes. She wouldn’t stand still this time. She twisted her hand so that he was forced to let go. A knee to the stomach had him holding his gut and as she raised her arm ready to punch him was when she finally registered that this wasn’t Adrien. It was just some weird stranger who was persistent in getting past her walls.

She could hear people talking around her and when she dared to glance around they were all staring. She forced the embarrassed blush that wanted to grace her cheeks down, she wasn’t 13 anymore, she was 16 god damnit! Locking eyes with the mysterious yet persistent guy again, she ran. Ran until she found herself on a balcony, the cold air brushing her face as she gripped the railing.

Why did she react like that? Why did she always have to be so aggressive? Why couldn’t she just let go of the past and take this damn nose ring off so she didn’t have to go and do stupid shit like this? Why couldn’t she just be normal and let people in?

Oh yeah, because she had a bunch of shitty friends that all turned on her because of a liar. The same liar turned her already neglectful parents against her. So Jagged and Penny got custody of her in order to get her out. Her parents didn’t even put up a fight about it, too busy gushing about precious LILA! And now she has major trust issues despite wanting to open and trust people again. Man, she is a wreck.

“Hey, are you out here?” The mystery guy spoke from the entrance of the balcony.

“No, I’m not.” She didn’t see the point in not acknowledging him, he could probably see her from where he was standing.

“I’m sorry about earlier, you were obviously uncomfortable and I pushed your limit. So I really am sorry.” He apologized.

“Yeah, sorry about kneeing you in the stomach. I thought…” She cut herself off, she didn’t need to pour her whole life story out to a stranger. He probably didn’t even want to know either.

“It’s okay, I deserved it.” He made his way to the railing, he was a good distance away that she still had her own space, but close enough they could still talk. She relaxed a little thanks to the distance, resting her elbows on the railing. He leaned his back against the railing. They stood there in silence and Marinette decided she wouldn’t mind seeing this mystery boy again. Wait she didn’t even know his name.

It seemed like he had the same thought since he spoke up, “I don’t think we ever introduced ourselves.”

“We didn’t.” Damn her being so cold, she should probably take this nose ring off. So that’s what she did, took the nose ring off and placed it in her purse. Maybe this would be good for her.

“Well, I’m Damian Wayne.” He stated, holding his hand out to shake.

“Wait, Wayne as in Bruce Wayne? As in the Ice Prince of Gotham?” She questioned, shocked.

“Oh, so you’ve heard.” He seemed a bit disappointed.

“Yeah, but I won’t judge if you don’t judge.”

He raised an eyebrow at that before she continued, “My name is Marinette Rolling-Stone.” Now he looked surprised.

“You're the elusive Diamond Stone?” He asked, disbelief made its way into his voice.

“That’s what they’re calling me now. At first it was Sapphire Stone. Guess that’s what happens when I stay out of the media too long.” She chuckled a small smile making its way onto her face.

“Wait, where did your nose ring go?” He looked around as if expecting it to magically appear.

“I took it off.”

“Why?”

“Well at first I wore it to scare people off. People are scared of people that have piercings. I was thinking of getting a tattoo but I’m too young and they’re too permanent.”

“Why would you want to scare people off?”

“I have a complicated past. Sometimes putting your trust in someone takes too much risk, I tried to avoid it altogether.” She pulled her sketchbook as she wrote something down.

“Tried?”

“Why do you think I’m talking to you?” She tore the paper out.

“You're putting your trust in me?”

“No.” She quickly answered, “But maybe one day.” She handed him the paper and left.

As she walked away she released a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. Maybe giving people a second chance wouldn’t be such a bad thing. But right now she just needed to find her parents so she could head home.

Damian hated galas. He hated having to talk to the stuck-up rich folk who thought they were better than everyone just because of their wealth. The girls who would try and flirt with him in order to gain his last name. And their parents who tried to push them together.

Yes, he definitely hated galas. What made this worse was that his family wouldn’t stop teasing him about the girl who he knocked over that one time. Threatening bodily harm did nothing but amp up the teasing. It was times like this where he truly wished there was a not a no kill rule. If only to give Jason Todd some revenge.

2 hours into the gala and he was already done. 4 girls had already tried to drape themselves over him and it took all his self-control not to hurt them. He was ready to storm out of this gala when he caught sight of her.

The mystery girl he had bumped into days before. She was here, at a Wayne gala. Her outfit certainly looked the part of a rich socialite, She wore a long halter dress that flared out at the waist. It started out black at her neck before turning purple at the waist. The bottom of the dress had black music notes dancing across and she had a matching black and purple purse hanging off her shoulder.

Her hair was down and she seemed to be wearing a little bit of makeup. The only reason he was able to tell it was her was because of the black nose ring that stood out against her fancy look. It looked so out of place compared to everything else.

He watched as a man tried to approach her only to receive the same glare he had gotten days before, quickly moving on to someone else. Seems like he wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to be here.

He made his way over to her, perhaps to give himself a second chance at a new impression. She proceeded to pull out her phone and look at something before deflating the tiniest bit.

He cleared his throat to grab her attention, she looked at him with the same glare once again before her eyes took on a look of shock.

“You.” She seemed surprised that she had stated this as well.

He couldn’t help the smirk that spread on his face, she remembered him and still had the same spunky attitude, “Me.”

Her features took on a look of boredom, but her eyes looked only curious yet cautious, “What are you doing here?”

The fact that she didn’t recognize him as a Wayne was surprising. He thought that she was only in a hurry before that’s why she didn’t register it was him, but now he knew she truly didn’t know it was him. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage. “I’m always invited to these things, I’ve never seen you before though.”

“With any luck this will be the last time you see me.” She said it with such confidence he felt inclined to believe. It was strange. He seemed to be the last person she wanted to talk to and yet he still wanted to talk to her. He didn’t want her to leave. So the next best thing is to get answers.

“Why would you say that?”

“These types of things,” She waved her hand around to motion to the room, “Just aren’t my thing. My parents make it look so easy, but I’ve never been one for this kind of scene. Plus I leave Gotham in a few days.”

Well that sucked for him. “Desperate to get out here?”

“You could say that.”

“Who are your parents?” Maybe he could try to get his father to arrange a meeting with them.

She raised an eyebrow, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Nevermind.

“You know, you make trying to have a conversation pretty hard.” He didn’t mean to say that, that was rude.

She rolled her eyes at him, it looked like he was meant to see that, “Who says I wanted this conversation?” She turned to leave, but he grabbed her wrist. He didn’t want her to go just yet. He felt her freeze then tense when he touched her, her breathing became a little more forced, and she seemed to shake a little.

Suddenly she twisted out of his grip and kneed him in the stomach. She raised her arm and looked ready to punch him. Her eyes looked far and distant and afraid. They seemed to refocus on him as she dropped her arm and glanced around the room. Of course, people were talking about them.

She locked eyes with him once more before running. He ran after her before his path was blocked off by Dick Grayson. “Damian what-” He didn’t get to finish that question as he dashed passed him, determined not to lose the one girl who wasn’t a stuck up brat.

He thought he had lost her but then he heard someone taking deep breaths from out on one of the balconies. He was about to go up to her, but from the way she reacted to his sudden hold on her arm earlier, it was probably best to give a warning. “Hey are you out here?”

He walked out onto the balcony. “No, I’m not.” She likely didn’t want to talk to him.

“I’m sorry about earlier, you were obviously uncomfortable and I pushed your limit. So I really am sorry.” He apologized. Which was so unlike him because here Damian Wayne was apologizing to a stranger. The weird things she made him do.

“Yeah, sorry about kneeing you in the stomach. I thought…” She cut herself off, it looked like she wanted to say more but wasn’t going to.

“It’s okay, I deserved it.” He walked over to the railing, making sure he was a good distance away that she had her own space, but close enough so they could still talk. She seemed to relax a little thanks to the distance, resting her elbows on the railing. He leaned his back against the railing. He quite liked the silence, her company was nice. Oh god he didn’t even know her name.

“I don’t think we ever introduced ourselves.”

“We didn’t.” She stated in what he was pretty sure was a cold tone. Maybe she wanted to stay mysterious, so he would just introduce himself.

“Well, I’m Damian Wayne.” He held his hand out to shake.

“Wait, Wayne as in Bruce Wayne? As in the Ice Prince of Gotham?” So she recognizes the name, not the face. Great.

“Oh, so you’ve heard.”

“Yeah, but I won’t judge if you don’t judge.” Why would he judge her?

He raised an eyebrow at her before she continued, “My name is Marinette Rolling-Stone.”

“You're the elusive Diamond Stone?” He asked, disbelief accidentally made its way into his voice. He couldn’t help it. She was claiming to be the adoptive daughter of famous Jagged and Penny Rolling-Stone. The girl that made Jagged’s stage outfits from scratch and managed to get the ferocious Fang, Jagged’s pet crocodile, to love her. The media could only ever get a hold of the back of her head, but those that had talked with her said she shined as bright as a diamond. Hence the nickname, Diamond Stone.

“That’s what they’re calling me now. At first it was Sapphire Stone. Guess that’s what happens when I stay out of the media too long.” She chuckled, a small smile had made its way onto her face. Sapphire Stone, he hadn’t heard of that nickname but he could always do some stalking research. That’s when he noticed.

“Wait, where did your nose ring go?” He looked around trying to see if it had fallen off her face and she hadn’t noticed.

“I took it off.”

“Why?” He was truly baffled.

“Well at first I wore it to scare people off. People are scared of people that have piercings. I was thinking of getting a tattoo but I’m too young and they’re too permanent.”

“Why would you want to scare people off?” That seems like something he would do.

“I have a complicated past. Sometimes putting your trust in someone takes too much risk, I tried to avoid it altogether.” She pulled out what looked like a sketchbook as she wrote something down. Wait what did she mean by ‘complicated past.’

“Tried?”

“Why do you think I’m talking to you?” She tore the paper out of the sketchbook.

“You're putting your trust in me?” He asked, she didn’t seem like the type to trust people quickly.

“No.” She quickly answered, he thought so, “But maybe one day.” She handed him the paper and left. As he looked down at it he saw it was her number. There was a message attached below ‘My number. Maybe we can meet up somewhere before I leave.’ He certainly wanted to take that opportunity.

He tucked the paper into his pocket and made his way back to the gala only to be met with his annoying family. By the curious look in their eyes they wanted to know what just happened. This was not going to be fun to explain.

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

Hi, I have not disappeared, just didn’t want to write for prompts 8-11. I was honestly going to do prompt 8 but then stuff came up and I didn’t have the time to write. I was also planning to write something for tomorrow’s prompt but then I found out I have something I need to do tomorrow so nothing for tomorrow either. Because I had a specific thing I wanted to write for tomorrow I’m changing it to fit day 14′s prompt. Which means it’s not going to be mega angsty like I originally thought was gonna be 14. You have escaped mega angst and now it will only be medium angst.

On another note that was a bitch to write and edit. And the fact I had originally planned to write more for it baffles me. I feel like I left it kind of open ended so if you want a part 3 to what I have going on here go ahead and tell me. I’m still trying to decide if I should do a part 3 yet. For those who are confused today was a part 2 to day 6′s prompt, miraculous side effects. Go to my master list and you can find it.

You can also see on my master list that there are days that are crossed off, which means I won’t be doing those days. I can’t do every single day if I want to still get decent grades. Why I skipped days 8-11. Sorry for that long explanation/rant. Also sorry for posting so late again. I do these things all the way to the last minute. Let’s see if I can break that habit throughout the month. Probably not but a girl can hope. Anyways hope you enjoyed.

@maribatmarch-2k21 @birdiesthings @buginetye

#maribatmarch2021 #maribat #maribat march #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #damian x marinette #daminette #tell me if you want a part 2 #i'm still deciding

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charming-charlie · 4 years ago

Text

Washed Away pt. 4

Title // Washed Away pt. 4

Pairing // Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings // Baby swears but you know what, this is a cute chapter.

Summary // Who knew hanging out with Buck and Christopher for a day would lead to a life or death situation?

Word Count // 1.6k

Prompt // Hi! Can i request a fic where you were with Buck & Christopher when the tsunami hit? They could be dating or crushing on each other. If nothing comes to mind, then it’s completely fine to ignore this request! Have a nice day!’

Author’s Note // This is Part 4 of the Washed Away series. || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Tagged List // @aprildecker-blog @coffeewithoutcaffeine @daddysfavoritesexkitten @chenfordlove @comeasyoudar @carnationworld // If you want to be added or removed from the tagged list, please drop a note.

The pier. A carnival. Maybe even a first date. A tsunami. You don’t even remember what happened after that. Your adrenaline was pumping hard and fast as you raced to console Buck, who was screaming Christopher’s name over and over again. You were afraid he would rip his vocal cords if he kept that up.

The water had receded enough for you and Buck to climb off the firetruck. What was left was a flooded road that was up to your waist, but it was much more manageable compared to before.

Together, the two of you flagged down whoever you could and asked people if they had seen Christopher. Buck described the little boy, and you held onto the last shred of hope that you could, but no one saw him. Or maybe no one wanted to see him.

Given the circumstances and what happened, you were fearing the worse.

Your arm looped around Buck’s and he didn’t pull away. If anything, he needed it. He seemed so exhausted, so defeated. It was such a contrast from the happy-go-lucky guy hours earlier. This seemed like an entirely different Buck, and you shouldn’t be thinking it, but you were grateful to see more sides to him. It showed you what kind of person he really was, and if anything, Buck was truly a hero. You believed that now more than ever. He just needed to be reminded occasionally.

The two of you walked down the flooded street, looking for any sign of anything. People seemed to be finding their way, gathering their bearings, and just trying to survive. There didn’t appear to be any luck, until…

“Hey, there’s a kid under here!”

Someone shouted from across the watery road. Buck spun around so fast; you were slightly afraid he would get whiplash. He grabbed your hand, pulling you to the wreckage.

The two of you, along with a few other people, removed a heavy metal liquor sign, the ones that hang on the sides of buildings with the arrow pointing to the entrance, off a person who was trapped in the middle of the debris.

Buck was holding his breath. For a moment, there was a gleam of hope, a flash of relief.

And then it was gone.

It wasn’t Christopher at all. The kid was a girl, a teen maybe, and she was sobbing for help. A woman grabbed her arm and supported her, and the two sauntered off wherever.

Buck stopped them quickly. “Hey hey excuse me, I’m looking for an eight-year-old boy.”

“Yeah, yeah I think I saw him. He was headed over to that cupcakery place up the way. They are handing out water,” a surfer-looking dude in a wetsuit chimed in, and once again, the spark of hope exploded in Buck’s eyes.

Your shred of hope was dwindling to a thread, mere fibers, after the ordeal you and Buck had. You were trying to keep hope like Buck was, but it was hard. Every single piece of help was leading to a dead end and you did not like the idea of sticking around if the worse news actually became a reality.

Does that make you a bad person? If you didn’t hear it, it wouldn’t be true, right? Perhaps you could hold onto that mantra for a little bit. Maybe some of Buck’s hope will wash over to you. You sure could use some right now.

“Thank you,” Buck said, and he grabbed your hand. The two of you sprinted in the direction where someone thought they saw Christopher, but your sprints quickly slowed to a walk since treading in water wasn’t exactly a cakewalk.

You were silent. You must’ve been for some time because eventually Buck spoke up.

“I’m sorry,” Buck told you. It was in a whisper and you strained your neck trying to hear him over the gushing liquid around you.

“For what?” you asked. There was nothing he could possibly be sorry for. None of this was his fault. Literally, this is just some freak accident that no one could have predicted.

“This wasn’t how I wanted our first date to go,” Buck was avoiding your eyes, like he was still looking for Christopher in the flood. In all fairness, you weren’t looking at him either.

Maybe you didn’t respond quick enough, or maybe the sudden silence wasn’t what Buck wanted to hear, because the ex-firefighter continued to speak, a little louder this time, and you heard him perfectly.

“Eddie needed someone to watch Christopher and I’m practically Uncle Buck, so I accepted, but I really did kind of wish it was just me and you. Don’t get me wrong, I love Christopher, and I love hanging out with him but I kind of wanted to hang out with you. Just you. Trust me, if it were just me and you, it’d be a memorable first date,” Buck said as his head hung low.

He wiped the sweat off his brow with his free hand, although the hand that was holding yours loosened its grip against your fingers, like he expected you to suddenly pull away from him.

You didn’t and you squeezed your hand to reassure him. “I don’t know,” you said with a little smile, “as far as first dates go, I feel like this is pretty memorable.”

That seemed to put a spring in his step, and he smiled too. He glanced over at you, nudging you with his impressively muscular arm. “I hope you’re not just saying that to make me feel better.”

You teetered slightly to the side to avoid a washed-up car, allowing your body to press next to his for a second. Honestly, it felt good. Maybe you just craved a human touch and the handholding wasn’t cutting it anymore. Maybe your feelings ran deeper for Evan Buckley than you thought. Whatever the case, you knew it wasn’t the moment you wanted, so you weren’t disappointed by the sudden confliction of feelings.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. Your hair was practically dry at this point, although rough and tangled from the seawater. “I was hoping you’d ask me out. I wasn’t expecting Christopher to join us, but I like the kid.”

It was true. With Christopher’s medical problems, you got to know him very well, since you were the nurse at his school. Eddie made sure to contact you once a week, at least, just to check on his son and make sure everything was okay. You got to know the Diaz family, and that included Uncle Buck. Your life changed for the absolute better the moment Christopher walked into it. It was that boy and the family he had that provided you with something spectacular. You were holding the hand of that spectacular thing right now as the two of you walked down a flooded street.

“You like me more though, right?” Buck had a bit of a snarky smile now. That made you feel a lot better. Perhaps this conversation is distracting him from everything going on. You both could use the distraction. Plus, both of you haven’t talked to each other properly all day. Christopher was always right there.

“It’s kind of hard to not like someone that saves your life,” you shrugged it off, toying with him a little. Was it sort of wrong to tease him when the two of you were looking for Christopher? Then again, maybe that was what you both needed right now. Again, distractions can be necessary.

“Oh, that’s right. So basically, that sort of means you’re in my debt now, right?” Buck asked as he looked over at you. There was that damn gleam in his eyes. He was teasing you back and hell, he was enjoying it too.

“Let’s not get carried away with the specifics,” you answered, only to hear Buck emit a small laugh. It was good to hear him laugh again. It was good to see him smile. The cupcakery was miles down the road, the two of you had a while, and the distracted conversation was most welcomed.

“I like the specifics,” the ex-firefighter retorted. You could feel his thumb grazing the back of your hand.

“Okay fine, I’m in your debt. How in the world could I possibly pay you for saving my precious life?” you threw out your best acting skills, which were not that great to begin with, and the laugh lines around Buck’s eyes became more prominent. Your knight in shining armor was actually enjoying this.

“See, that’s all I want, a little bit of gratitude.”

“Dear Mr. Buckley, I am so incredibly grateful that you saved my ass during a freak disaster,” you began to really get into this fake acting thing, but Buck saw right through you.

He splashed you and you laughed, clinging onto him just a little bit tighter.

It was needed. After the ordeal that you two had, this was definitely needed. You didn’t know what lied ahead at the cupcake bakery a few miles down the road, and you were mentally exhausted trying to play every scenario out in your head.

During your trek, there was no one else that needed saving. Buck didn’t run into the face of danger. Instead, he was by your side, holding your hand, as you both waded slowly through the water. Occasionally you stepped on things that you did not want to know what they were, but he was there and calmed you down through it.

The sun was setting. The two of you kept walking. Maybe, just maybe, you two can save Christopher.

And maybe each other.

#evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley x you #Buck #buck x reader #buck x you #9-1-1 #9-1-1 on fox #9-1-1 fic #oliver stark

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charmingyong · 3 years ago

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Loving Your Voice

Spring comes, where’s your heart?

Genre: Radio jockey!Johnny x loyal fem listener!reader, Taeyong x reader, love quadrangle, angst

Warnings: angst, forbidden love, unrequited love, sacrifice, no happy ending with either male lead

Word count: 6k

Plot: Every night, you religiously tuned into a daily radio program just to hear the voice of the man who had wholly captured your heart, despite never having seen him before. Your wish came true and met Johnny in the most unexpected way, not having prepared yourself that he was never going to be yours.

A/N: Inspired by IU’s Lilac, the book One Day in December by Josie Silver, and of course NCT Night Night. The book has a happy ending, but Lilac hurt me lol. NNN lines were obtained from 12-10-2018, 16-08-2017, and 16-03-2018.

- ❀ -

You giddily ran into your bedroom and kicked the door shut, smacking your forehead when you forgot that your old pair of earphones broke recently. You hurriedly rummaged through the drawers of your desk and dresser in search for a working pair out of thin air. When you couldn’t, you cursed under your breath and ran your hand through your hair.

There had to be one somewhere.

And you suddenly remembered a pair that you obtained at work. Your workbag? In the living room.

Bursting out of your room, you found your bag on the sofa, and sighed in relief when you spotted your lifesaver. You were not willing to sacrifice on the audio and settle for the speaker on your phone because you wanted to hear his heart-fluttering voice crystal clear. Your eyes roamed around to search for the time on the wall clock.

10:59pm

Your breath hitched and you dashed back into your room. Plopping down on your chair by your desk, you connected the earphones and set up the app where the radio program was being broadcasted, relieved to catch the opening before any words were exchanged.

Right after the opening song, you heard Jaehyun read his script with his deep voice. “While I was away, the weather gets chillier. But still, your heart towards me hasn’t cooled down, right?”

That was right. Your heart still hadn’t cooled down, despite only having heard his voice and never seeing his face before.

For the one who spoke next.

“NCT’s Night Night~”

Johnny.

This had been your life the past few years ever since the program began. The second you heard his beautiful voice, it did something to your heart. The more the nights went by listening to him, the more your heart grew and without realizing it, you were in love with him. You loved the way he’d speak with such a gentle tone for the listeners and joke around brightly with the guests on the show. You had been able to pick up on things he liked and opinions on various matters when having conversations with his radio buddy, always setting your heart alight.

Because your heart beat for Johnny, you couldn’t look at any other guy. You’d get asked a lot by your friends and colleagues why you wouldn’t date, a question you hadn’t been able to give them a proper answer to. What would you say? That you were in love with a man who you had only heard his voice and had never directly interacted with before? It was better to stay silent until your wish would come true and meet him one day.

Maybe then, things might be in your luck and something blooms between you two.

- ❀ -

“How’s this dress?” your baby sister Yeri asked. She held a white dress with blue floral print against her chest.

You hummed. “It’s cute. Totally suits you.”

“Right? I’m buying this,” she beamed. “He’s so going to like this,” she muttered more to herself.

You blinked at her. “Who?”

She smirked. “Someone I’ll be introducing to you soon,” she said with a wink sent your way.

“No way... you’re seeing a guy! Who is he?” Yeri had always gushed about cute boys from afar and never once going up to them to confront her feelings. So her finally in a relationship was big news.

Yeri laughed. “Patience, girl. I know it’s crazy that I finally won one over and you’re gonna like him. He just has that charm.”

Your heart pumped fast at the thought of your precious sister smiling next to her boyfriend. It was one thing you had always wanted to see, your sister’s happiness a priority above anything else in the world.

“Well then, I’m definitely looking forward to meeting this mysterious boy.”

- ❀ -

Sipping on the cappuccino, you were jittery for the meetup, your foot tapping against the tiles of the café. Yeri was really excited to introduce you to him while you were worried. What if he wasn’t like the way she described him as? What if he was a jerk lowkey who didn’t deserve her?

“You’re really tensed, girl. Chill out! He’s not gonna bite,” she joked.

“I know. I just hope he’s a good guy for you,” you spoke quietly.

“Of course he is! He’s super easy to talk to and has a lot of manners and loves to joke around. There’s nothing to be worried about.” Her eyes traveled to behind you and beamed at the figure walking towards your table. “He’s here!” Yeri jumped out of her chair and hopped over to him.

You turned around in your seat to find a tall man, definitely charming like she mentioned, grinning widely at your sister with his pearly teeth on display. “Hi baby.”

Yeri latched onto his arm and brought him over in front of you. “Y/N, meet my sweet boyfriend.”

His eyes locked with yours and offered you a warm smile, making you return it. “Hi Y/N. I’m glad to finally meet you. Yeri talks about you a lot. Oh and I’m Johnny.”

Your smile fell and felt your heartbeat stop altogether. Johnny? And that voice... “Your voice sounds familiar,” you breathed out.

Yeri clapped her hands at your words. “Oh yeah! You might have heard him on the radio. He’s one of the radio jockeys on NCT Night Night program.”

No…

Your gaze didn’t waver from the tall boy as your heart dropped to your feet, shattering into a million pieces and beyond ability to ever repair it. After all these years, you finally met the man of the voice who captured your heart, only for him to turn out to be your sister’s boyfriend.

“No way! Do you listen to my show?” Johnny asked with sparkle in his eyes at the possibility of meeting a fan.

You fumbled with your tongue inside your mouth before making up your decision. “Yeah, I listen every night. It’s... fun.” You pressed your lips together to stop your heart from spilling out the real reason.

“Wow, my girlfriend’s sister is my fan. I’m honoured. Tell me, who do you like more? JaeD or JohnD? I’m sure you’ll say JohnD,” he joked with a wink.

Yeri smacked his arm. “Hey! You can’t ask her that when you’re in front of her. She’ll obviously pick you.”

Johnny laughed at her, the same laugh he’d do on the radio that would make your heart flutter.

You never thought that hearing it in person would feel so melancholic.

- ❀ -

“So? What do you think about Johnny?”

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Well, you wished for that. If your heart hadn’t already reserved it for him, then you would have been happily sharing your joy with her. Why did you have to be head over heels for that radio jockey? Johnny was definitely someone you’d trust Yeri with, ever since yours was already. “He’s… good.”

She anticipated for more but when you didn’t say more, her smile fell. “That’s it? I thought you’ll like him. Plus, he turned out to be someone you listen to on the radio. I can’t believe you haven’t fallen for him.”

You bit your cheeks on the inside and held back from spilling the truth. “He sounds like a good guy on the radio. So you’re good.” Staying curt was your best option.

Keep it short. Don’t let her know.

Her lips curled up. “Really? So you like him?”

“Yes.” But not like the way you think.

She placed her hand over her heart. “Thank goodness. I thought you didn’t since you were so quiet during the meet.”

You turned away from her so that she couldn’t see your sorrowful eyes.

- ❀ -

Yeri and Johnny.

Yeri and…

You groaned inwardly, frustrated that your mind had a hard time believing that there was no you with Johnny. It was even harder to believe that it was a relationship between your sister and your DJ love.

Johnny sat beside your sister at the diner while you watched them, painfully watched them feed each other and chatter happily from across. Why were you third wheeling? The lovey doves insisted.

“Y/N, how does that theme sound like?”

You didn’t realize that you had zoned out until Yeri waved her hand in front of you. “Huh? Sorry l wasn’t listening.”

Johnny quirked an eyebrow up. “You weren’t listening? Are you sure you listen to my radio if your attention span is that small?”

Yeri smacked his arm. “Don’t be mean to her like that!”

“You know I was joking.”

You knew that but it hurt. Hurt that he’d think that of you when you loved listening to his voice. But that moment, you couldn’t help but want to distract yourself. “Sorry. I was just zoned out. What theme are you talking about?”

Yeri rolled her eyes at you. “Girl, focus! We’re discussing about our wedding theme.”

Your breathing stilled. “What wedding?”

Her eyes widened like you were crazy. “Have you not been listening to anything? I mean our wedding. Mine and Johnny’s.”

You froze, almost positive that your soul had for sure left you. Was Johnny being Yeri’s boyfriend not enough that the news of Johnny becoming her future husband had to be broken to you this early? “What do you mean your wedding? How long has it been since you two met?”

Yeri nodded, agreeing that it was too soon for one. “Yeah, it hasn’t been long. But for some reason, we click so well like we’re meant to be.”

Pang.

Johnny added, “Yeah, Yeri’s right. I understand it might be worrisome for you, Y/N, like you just met me and now talks of our wedding happen this fast. But I assure you that everything will go well since our love for each other is that strong.”

Your palms began sweating profusely. It was too soon, but it didn’t matter as long as it was with the right person. And for Yeri, she definitely had it right. “Yeah but…” Your words died in your mouth. What could you even say to that? Please don’t. I love him with all my heart, ever since I first tuned to his radio. No, you weren’t selfish. They clearly loved each other and you had no right to get in their way, no matter how much you loved JohnD. Sighing, your shoulders slumped and softly uttered, “I guess you’re right.”

There was no Y/N and Johnny.

- ❀ -

10:52pm

Ready at your desk just like how your night routine would go, you were feeling a mixture of emotions. You craved to hear his voice, but with all the recent memories made and wrecking you, you didn’t know if this was the time for you to let go of your love for JohnD.

To close a chapter in your life.

Every association with Johnny felt like you were walking on a pile of needles. The stabbing pain hadn’t gone one bit ever since you learned that he was your sister’s boyfriend and it was clear that they both loved each other very much.

Your love life wasn’t meant to be. Should this be the last time for you to listen to him? You had devoted one hour every day of your life to tune into the radio. To give that up suddenly wasn’t going to be easy.

Take baby steps and let him go.

But you wouldn’t be able to let him go fully. Not when he was going to be stuck to your sister’s side. There was no way you’d get over him if you couldn’t fully get him out of your life. It would have been easier if Johnny was someone else’s boyfriend.

Yeri, why did it have to be you?

11:00pm

The intro music cued, followed by an opening. There was no time for you to think about anything else except diving into tonight’s program without another thought.

Let’s see how tonight goes.

“I’ve waited for today all this long?”

Wait…

“My heart for you was like this? I never knew.”

That’s not JaeD or JohnD…

“But my heart right now, is dancing.”

Who is he?

“NCT’s Night Night.” That voice you recognized as the one who left a knife in your heart.

A song began shortly as the radio jockeys prepped for the night. The unfamiliar voice left a great impression on you. Though not enough to forget about the constant ache in your heart. The new voice comforted you in a way that you thought was nearly impossible after the heartbreak. After the song ended, the introduction began and you paid close attention to learn about the temporary DJ.

“Hello! Today I, Taeyong, am the special DJ of NCT’s Night Night. Call me TyongD!” the new bright voice said with high tension.

Throughout the episode, you listened to his voice and while TyongD couldn’t help you get over your love for JohnD, you were curious to meet this Taeyong guy.

- ❀ -

Standing in the lobby of the broadcasting station, you waited for the boys to be finished with their program. Johnny had texted you to meet up there as Taeyong was going be the special DJ for a while until Jaehyun returned from his trip. Why were you being called over at midnight instead of over lunch or something? You didn’t know. But at least it was the weekend so you didn’t have to worry about waking up on time for work.

When the clock struck midnight, you listened to them wrap up the episode on your phone and turned it off. The doors opened and you found Johnny walk out alone, no one behind him yet.

He sent you a genuine smile and waved as he made his way over.

You quietly checked him out, staring at his handsome features that you failed to capture from the start. His voice was beautiful and couple that with his face… You let out a long sigh. Fate was way too cruel on you.

Johnny noticed a tear well up in your eye and gasped. “Are you crying?”

You looked away and quickly wiped it away. “I-It’s just dust,” you mumbled.

He hummed. “I’m really surprised you asked me about Taeyong. He’s a really sweet guy and you two will make a great couple.”

You doubted that but regardless hoped that he was right. “He’s temporary here, isn’t he? What does he really do then?”

Johnny smirked and replied, “That’s for you to find out tonight.”

You blinked confusedly. “Huh?”

Chuckling, he added, “Taeyong wanted to show something to you tonight. That’s why I called you over right now. Sorry that it’s cutting into your night,” he grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck.

Whatever Taeyong wanted to show me better be worth it, you thought. “Where is he anyway?”

He turned around to look for him. “He’ll be out soon. Just taking his time to pack it up with the crew.” Johnny turned to you and said, “I rushed out knowing you’d be waiting. Can’t have you bored, you know,” he flashed a huge smile.

Johnny, cut it out. Don’t do that!

There went your prohibited heart flying for him.

Soon enough, the staff walked out the doors and bid Johnny well for the night. Everyone had left out the exit, except for a faded pink hair boy appearing beside your forbidden love. He was cute, his lips parted slightly as he stared at you with twinkling eyes.

“Yongs!” Johnny wrapped his arm around Taeyong. “Y/N, meet Taeyong whose been by my side for a decade and he’s a music producer. And Taeyong, this is the Y/N I was talking about. She’s my girlfriend’s sister.”

Taeyong’s shocked self recovered and a loving smile graced itself on his lips. “It’s really nice to meet you, Y/N,” he spoke with the same soft voice that had comforted you.

Out of courtesy, you mirrored it back. “Same here, Taeyong.” Your eyes shifted to the taller boy beside him.

Johnny lifted his arm off his friend and stepped away. “Oh right. I should leave you two alone now. Have fun and don’t forget to tell me first if anything good happens between you two. Night night~” He strode towards the exit, your eyes not once leaving his retreating figure even after he stepped out the exit and disappeared into the darkness of the night.

“Y/N?”

Taeyong’s voice pulled you back. “Yeah?”

He bounced on his heels out of nervousness before he began his speed rambling. “Are you hungry? I mean are you okay with the night? You’re not sleepy are you? I just wanted to show you my work and thought we can have a fun night. We can definitely leave this for tomorrow during the day. I don’t want to force you to stay up.”

You gaped at him, trying your best to recall and reply to everything he practically rapped on. “Um, yeah I’m okay with the night. I’m not sleepy yet so I’m down to do anything fun.” And hopefully get my mind and heart off of Johnny. “I guess it’ll be a good idea to fuel ourselves up before heading over to your workplace.”

He let out a huge breath in relief. “Thank goodness. I’m a night owl so I work best at night and I’d love to have you see me in my producing mode.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Really? You wanted to show me your work without having seen me before?”

He scratched his head and added, “Johnny actually showed me a picture of you. A selfie of you, him and your sister.”

Johnny kept a picture of you on his phone…

This was not the information your poor heart needed, especially with a boy in front of you that you hoped he had a chance to win your heart.

Taeyong led you to his car in the lot and opened the passenger door for you. You thanked him, and sat down, observing the interior. There were candy wrappers littered everywhere as well as unopened bags of chips. Once he was settled into his seat, he noticed your eyes skimming around and sent you an apologetic look. “Ah, sorry. My car is a mess. I promise I’m not like this at all at home. I’m very clean.”

You hummed. “Don’t worry. I understand. I can be like this too with my workbag. So where are we going for food?”

“I was thinking about this waffle house if you like that…”

Nodding, you said, “Sounds great.”

The restaurant was nearly empty, except for another couple on the premise. After placing your order, you chatted about your lifestyle.

“I never really knew what to do with my life so I’m just working to get through it. Good enough pay to afford an apartment for myself so it’s not bad. How about you? Johnny mentioned that you make music.”

Taeyong sipped on the water. “Mm, yeah I do. I have a friend who I share the studio with. He works there before I go in so our timings don’t clash. It’s really fun there. I’m hoping I can be casted by a big company in the future. Till then, I’ll just keep working my butt off.”

“You sound really passionate. It’s really nice seeing someone like that.” It made you think back to Johnny and his love for broadcasting, hoping for his program to reach audience of all ages and give them a pleasant end to their long days. It really was so nice to listen to his calming voice after a long day at your work. Especially that it got your heart beating faster.

Your foods arrived with Taeyong opting for mint choco ice cream on top of his waffle. Both of you consumed your late-night meals in silence. When the bill arrived, you fought hard to pay your portion, but Taeyong said it was very ungentlemanly to let you. He was way too sweet for you.

“Taeyong, I understand, but we just met. I don’t want to feel like I owe you anything when we’re not even dating yet.”

He looked like he was conflicted, whether to let you pay or not, and gave up at the end when seeing your stern face. He pouted and replied, “Okay. But if I ever gift you anything, then you have to accept it, deal?”

Dumbfounded, you merely nodded.

The studio was a lot smaller than you imagined, considering that he was a freelancer. If you were told to stay in there and let your creativity flow, you’d struggle.

“Wow Taeyong. Don’t you get anxious working in this small room?”

He shrugged. “Not really. I actually get ideas when I’m in here. So imagine me having my hideout in here looking like a raccoon with dark circles,” he answered with a wink.

You giggled. “So what do you want to show me?”

“Come,” he took your hand and pulled you towards the desk, making you sit down in the cushioned office chair.

“Wait, shouldn’t you sit here? What about you?”

He pulled out a folding chair from a corner and set it up beside you. “I’ll sit here.”

On the computer, he logged into his account and played some of his favourite pieces he had composed.

“Wow, you made all these?” you asked with wide eyes.

Taeyong nodded with a ‘yup’ and clicked on a file saved as ‘city park.’ The whistling tunes incorporated brought a huge smile on you.

“I really like this one,” you spoke quietly, too immersed into the music that you didn’t notice his heart eyes softly grazing over your delicate features.

- ❀ -

From then on, you frequently met up with the music producer, whether if it was Taeyong wanting to show you his latest work or him creating something. You’d watch him during his creative process, trying out some keys and jotting down notes. He even let you play around and saved it as a recording under your name, telling you that it could serve him as an inspiration for his future works.

Taeyong didn’t only have a sweet personality, he was greatly addicted to sweets as well, taking you to a candy store and dragging you everywhere with giddy feet. His basket would be filled with some teddy bear jellies and sour candies, but mostly chocolates.

You would be crazy if you rejected the adorable boy when Taeyong asked you to be his girlfriend. You really loved Taeyong. You loved his cute childlike self yet a devoted hard worker at the right times. When the news was delivered to Yeri and Johnny, they were very happy. Yeri couldn’t understand why you never gave any guy a chance, and so to hear her big sister finally get into a relationship was a relief. Johnny on the other hand was pleased for his pal to have given it a go when Taeyong was always busy sticking his head into the computer.

But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop the tug at your heartstrings when you’d think about Yeri and Johnny.

One evening, you invited Taeyong over to your home before he’d leave for work. He surprised you by bringing a huge earl grey cake.

“I thought it’ll be fun to eat this while watching,” he said with bubbling joy.

You chuckled at his idea. If that was what he wanted, then you weren’t stopping him. “Okay, but that’s a lot of sugar. I’ll bring some chips. Go ahead and decide on a movie.”

He beamed. “Okay!”

When you walked into the living room with a huge bowl of jalapeno chips and forks for the cake, Taeyong was surfing through the movies available online.

“What about this one?” His cursor rested on top of a rom com pick. The summary beneath it indicated that the plot was about a man who listened to the radio and fell in love with the female DJ’s voice.

It sounded just like how you fell for-

“No!” you answered, more like shouted before realizing it. Taeyong jumped, clutching his heart from your sudden outburst. You sheepishly apologized, “Sorry, I… um I’m not feeling that one. How about something else?”

Taeyong blinked at you, confused that you had to react that loudly when it could have been a simple soft no. “Yeah, uh what about this one?” He shifted the cursor to the one beside it and you agreed.

Your heart was beating erratically from his previous selection. The movie was for sure to have a happy ending between the man and woman, but you knew there wasn’t going to be a happy ending with yours.

Taeyong picked up the fork and dove into the cake while his eyes were glued onto the credits rolling, mouthing the names of the music producers involved. You smiled at him, hoping that there would at least be a happy ending with Taeyong.

- ❀ -

The day arrived.

The most agonizing day of your life.

The time came for you to let go of your DJ love. If there was anyone that you would see yourself with in the future, it was the boy you had your arm linked with.

Yeri had a lot of friends and you willingly let one of them take your spot in being the maid of honour to direct the bridesmaids. After all, your mind was preoccupied the majority of the time, thinking about her soon-to-be husband. It would be easier for you to sit amongst the crowd and stop yourself from doing anything that you’d regret later than having to stand at the front, the easiest place to bring attention on yourself.

“It’s your sister’s wedding. Shouldn’t you be happy?” Taeyong asked.

You sighed. “I just can’t believe it’s happening already. But I really am happy for her.” At least she could have her happy ending.

Taeyong unlinked your hand from his arm and cupped your cheeks. “She’ll always be your little sister, no matter how fast she beat you to have a wedding first. We’ll have ours soon,” he said with a wink.

You forced a smile for him. Marrying Taeyong was something you were looking forward to. Your relationship with him had bloomed so prettily that it was the perfect way to distract yourself from the heartache. “Can’t wait for that,” you muttered honestly.

He leaned in and pecked your cheek. “Come on. Let’s take a seat near the front.”

The wedding commenced with the priest reciting the words for the bride and groom to exchange the vows. You watched your sister shyly smile in her white dress while your ex-love stood tall and charming in his dark tuxedo, hair styled to the side. His skin glowed, radiating the pure joy and pleasure of standing in front of his love.

You took a hold of Taeyong’s hand, clasping both your hands around his. He thought you wanted to feel his warmth and gave it a gentle squeeze, not knowing that your real reason was something else.

The time arrived for the priest to speak to the crowd of witnesses. “Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

You gripped onto Taeyong’s hand, willing yourself to stay put and go for the latter. No one uttered a word during the brief silence, making the priest continue with the ceremony.

“I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

Johnny stepped closer to Yeri, both of them beaming hard as they gazed into each other’s love-filled eyes. He took hold of her face and pressed his lips to hers.

You closed your eyes right before their lips locked, not wanting to break your heart even more when you had already promised yourself that it was over. Your love for JohnD was pushed into the past.

You were forever holding your peace.

- ❀ -

Something felt different ever since their marriage. You struggled to focus on your present moments with Taeyong as your mind dwelled onto your past love for JohnD.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Taeyong waved his hand in front of you.

You jumped slightly in your seat and looked at his eyes filled with concern. “Oh sorry. What?”

He sighed and decided to turn off his equipment. “Let’s get some food. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

You panicked. Was he breaking up with you? “Is it something bad?”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “It’s something really good.” But the smile fell right away when he added quietly, “Depending on how you take it.”

The two of you went back to the same waffle house on the first night you met each other. Taeyong refused to tell you the good news the entire time there, reasoning that he wanted you to eat well as you seemed tired in his eyes. He promised to tell you after you’d gain some energy.

It was nearly 2am and no one else was at the restaurant except for the few staff. But he wanted to make sure he shared his joy with you someplace secluded. The park was the safest spot and you found a bench by a well lit streetlamp.

“Will you please tell me now? You’ve been growing the suspense since we left the studio.”

He gulped nervously, his leg bouncing from jittery. He cut to the chase, getting straight to the point. “I got casted.”

You blinked. “Casted? Oh my goodness... Like company casted? Taeyong! That’s such amazing news! You should have told me earlier!” You hopped off the bench and bounced on your feet, clapping happily and cheering for his dream. “Now you’re gonna become this big music producer that everyone will go crazy for!” When a sad smile forced on his face, you stopped moving. “This is what you wanted, didn’t you? Why do you look so sad?”

“Because I’ll have to move away.”

Move? “Where?”

He chewed on his lip before answering, “To another country.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Y/N, I know this isn’t going to be easy for you but hear me out. I’ll be earning a lot that we’ll be living comfortably. You don’t have to worry about having a job unless you want to, so you don’t need to worry about finances. It’s just… you’ll have to leave everything and everyone to come with me.” He took a deep breath. “You’ll come with me, right?” he asked with desperate eyes.

You couldn’t believe what he was saying. You’d be by his side and whole heartedly support his passion for music. But if that involved having to move away from your home, your lifestyle, your family, friends…

Johnny…

Then you were going to have to draw the line.

“Taeyong… I… I can’t,” you choked out.

He looked as if he didn’t understand you, more like he didn’t want to. “Huh?” This was the very thing he feared.

You shook your head. “I’ll support you with your career no matter what. But I can’t leave home.”

Taeyong rose up to his feet and grabbed your hands. “Please don’t say no. Think about it. I-I have to leave in a few days but I don’t want to leave you. I really love you, Y/N! Wanna know what I was thinking if you can’t come with me?”

All the blood drained from your face. “Don’t even think about rejecting them. I’ll never live it down. You have to go.”

He feverishly shook his head, his eyes glistening. “I don’t want to leave you. I’d rather stay here and wait for another opportunity around here.”

You gaped in disbelief. “You’re not going to have another chance at going big if you ditch this abroad opportunity. This sounds like something big with the way you’re saying that you’ll be earning a lot. Please Taeyong, please go.”

He fell onto his knees, still holding onto your hands for dear life. His head hung low as his shoulders shook. Your heart broke at the sight of him crying. “Why does this feel like some sort of test, whether I choose career or love?”

Crouching down, you weaved your arms around his form and brought his head to your shoulder, patting his head gently to calm him down. “I know you love me but love can wait. Your career can’t. It’s not like we’ll never see each other again and I’m sure we’ll see each other again. So… if I can suggest you something, sacrifice love, Taeyong.” What sort of ill-fated joke was this? You already had to give up your love for Johnny, and now Taeyong had to do it for you. “I’m really really sorry,” you whispered out and not too long after, your body trembled as you sobbed over his shoulder.

You were sorry that you didn’t love Taeyong enough to leave everything behind.

He pulled back and frowned deeply with tear-stained cheeks. “Don’t say sorry. I should be the one saying that. This was supposed to be good news but I made you cry.” He wiped away your tears and stroked your head to quieten your cries. “If you change your mind, even the second before I leave, I’ll happily take you with me.”

- ❀ -

“That clearly says it all of your feelings for Taeyong.”

You sighed, already knowing that but still let her continue.

“You didn’t love him enough. Like true love type.” Yeri plopped down on the couch beside you. “If you really loved him, you would have been ready to start a new life with him, no matter where it’d be in the world.” She puffed out, sad that she wouldn’t be able to see you get married to Taeyong. “I really thought he was the one for you.”

There was no doubt that Taeyong would have been the one for you if you hadn’t fallen for Johnny. Why were you still being hopelessly lovesick? The chapter was supposed to be over a long time ago since the first time you met him. You felt bad for Taeyong, leading him on in a way. Your heart was never wholly available yet he never failed to surprise you with his sweet love.

Taeyong leaving was lowkey the best for both of you.

The front door opened and Johnny walked in. Aka Yeri’s husband. Aka the one you needed to stop pining over. “I brought some wine to help with my beautiful sister-in-law’s heartbreak,” he chirped.

There went your heart again, going bonkers over the fact that he called you beautiful... but also sister-in-law.

- ❀ -

Taeyong had a tight grip on his luggage, making his knuckles go white.

“Taeyong?” you called, hoping he’d give you a response.

“So… this is it? This is the end of us?” He avoided your eyes, opting to stare at the tiles beneath his feet.

You sniffed, hating that you’d have to say goodbye to him. No more late night fun. “Yeah, I guess this is it.”

“I want to give you something.” He shrugged off his backpack and pulled out an unopened box of beats headphones, handing it to you.

Stunned, all you breathed out was, “Why?”

“I wanted to gift you something, sort of like thank you for being my first girlfriend.”

Your jaw fell. “I was your first?”

He smiled and it didn’t look forced. “Yeah, and I want you to listen to my music with them. You’ll hear the quality is crystal clear and not miss a single beat with them.”

Your vision blurred at the thought of the pink haired having his first heartbreak by you. “Taeyong, I’m so sorry. It all started with me wanting to meet you in the first place and now I don’t come-”

He hushed you, cupping your face. “Ay, don’t be like that. I’m really glad you did. If you didn’t, then I wouldn’t have fallen in love and get my first heartbreak. And you know what they say about heartbreak songs topping charts,” he joked which successfully got a quiet giggle out of you.

“Yeah, use me as your muse for your music.”

The announcement came on, announcing the boarding for Taeyong’s flight. “It’s time for me to go.”

You hummed, your heart growing heavy suddenly. Before he turned away, he surprised you by enveloping you in his arms. You buried into his warmth for the last time and pulled back. “Go live your dream. And don’t lose your sweet self.”

Taeyong nodded and grabbed his luggage, wheeling it behind him as he waved at you with a tight smile. You waved back with what you hoped was a bright smile on your face to cheer him up. When Taeyong turned away, he quit holding back his tears and let it cascade over his cheeks.

Your eyes were glued to his retreating figure, hoping to catch one last glimpse of his face but didn’t as he passed by the gate for his flight. You stared at the box in hand and clutched it close to you, promising yourself that you’d support him with his music releases.

- ❀ -

“People always say that spring came. It’s exciting and heart fluttering. I think you’re someone like spring to me because after I met you, I felt like that every day.” Jaehyun said.

Followed by none other than Johnny’s “NCT’s Night Night~”

You sat at the same café you met him, drinking your cup of cappuccino while listening to a downloaded broadcast with your new gifted headphones. A bittersweet feeling overwhelmed you as you listened to Johnny’s voice throughout the episode. Even though you couldn’t be with Johnny, you’d still love and cherish all the memories you’d made with DJ Johnny.

And you wouldn’t have come to terms with that if it weren’t for a particular night that you had spent with Taeyong.

As you laid next to Taeyong under the starry night, you asked, “Taeyong, let’s talk hypothetically. What if you loved me but I didn’t love you back? What would you do?”

He hummed for a bit, thinking of a perfect response. “Love isn’t about having it reciprocated.” He turned to you and lovingly smiled, eyes crinkling with adoration for you under the moonlight. “Love is to shine more beautifully.”

The end.

#cznnet #nct #nct 127 #johnny suh #youngho seo #lee taeyong #johnny x reader #taeyong x reader #nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct scenarios #charm

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