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violets-page · 3 years

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Shot down Pt.3

Allie takes over your mind and all Raven can do is watch, feeling helpless.

TW: self-harm (kinda extreme)

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Masterlist

You relied often on the extension of crutches to be mobile. However, things that worked on the ark were not always as great on the ground.

Things like executions, lunch, and crutches, were all much better on the ark. All involved much less suffering. The bumpy terrain and muddy roads made you slip often. Walking made you anxious, afraid that at any moment your legs would give up and you would plummet to the soil. Stuck there until someone become willing to help. Needless to say, you avoided it at all costs. Or at least avoid walking alone.

Today was one of those days where you were forced to. Raven was working on some sort of electric fence around the camp and had begrudgingly left your side after you begged her to. You knew that being cramped inside all day with nothing to work on was worse than hell for her. It had rained earlier and the ground was a cesspool of piss and mud. Falling into it was ill-advised.

You were immensely grateful for the returning strength to your arms and spent many hours working out. Pull-ups were your preference. Without them hobbling along would have been much harder. Raven often commented on them with a smile and a laugh, it always made you blush.

The jagged metal of the crutches sank deep within the soil each time you set them down. It took forever for you to get more than a few feet from your tent, but by that time you had already grown too tired.

You practically fell onto a stray box before hurling the crutches into the mud next to you. You felt your foot twitch. Abby had stated this was a good sign of recovery but to you, it just felt like a painful reminder of your limits.

Your head fell forward as your palms dug into your eyes, holding back the tears like a damn.

The chip in your pocket felt like a hundred pounds as you pulled it out

* * * * * * * *

When Jaha gave you the chip he had seemed so sure of himself, so convinced that these people would be happy. Hell, the man fell from space in a death capsule, was stranded in the desert, almost died, and somehow, and he looked happier than anyone else on this damned planet.

You had run out of other options. The worst that could happen? It turned out to be a piece of plastic and you were left with the unsatisfying taste of dirt.

You held it against your lips toying with the idea, you had run out of time, out of patience, out of hope.

Raven had slowly gotten over her guilt (all thanks to you) and due to your inability to travel more than 30 feet without screaming, you barely saw her. Abby was the only one who checked in regularly and most likely because you spent most of your time in her makeshift waiting room.

Waiting.

You were always waiting. Waiting for your friends to return, waiting for your leg to heal, waiting for love.

Before you could stop yourself you let the chip slide onto your tongue. It dissolved quickly at tasted faintly like salt and dough.

You sat there, waiting for euphoria, waiting for...something.

The kids on the ark sometimes smoked herbs. You thought it would feel like that, the world fading around you as bright colors floated around and everything else just ceased to matter.

Instead, you wiped tears from your eyes all the while cursing Thelonious. You grabbed your crutches, the walk back would take your remaining energy, but better than then be stuck in the oncoming rain.

You felt your annoyance growing with each step as the crutches creaked irritated by your weight on them. You couldn’t take it anymore, the anger came crashing like waves. You slammed the crutches in the mud with a scream. You hated them. They poked you in the arm, they were too tall and made your shoulders ache, they sunk into the ground and were too nosy.

you stood in front of the crutches before raising your leg to stomp on them.

You took your anger out, everything that was wrong with the world you suddenly blamed the crutches for.

“Stupid mother fu-”

Your stomps slowed to a steady pat before halting completely. You were moving, standing. Without the aid of crutches. You took a few more steps, and a few more, and some more. Until your eyes were met with a pristine pair of black heels.

Your eyes trailed up the ivory-toned legs and over the tight red dress of a figure, you'd never seen before. You stared at her in confusion.

“Hello y/n”

* * * * * * * *

Raven hadn’t realized what was happening till it was too late.

You fought against the hold on Clarke and Bellamy in a fit of screams. The forest looked the same to you no matter where you were and your eyes hungrily searched for anything you could recognize

You heard the familiar faint whispers of Raven’s ‘I’m sorry’ before a needle was plunged into your neck and everything went dark.

* * * * * * * *

The drive to the grounder camp felt long and hopeless to Raven. She spent the drive running her hand through your hair hoping part of your unconscious mind would recognize her touch and be soothed by it.

She watched as Clarke and Bellamy hopped out of the truck to reason with the vicious-looking grounder. Her Breath hitched waiting and hoping they would be able to reason with her. She couldn't bear to lose you.

You were all she had.

She felt you shift in her arms, your eyebrows furrowed and she could see your eyes flutter but remain close. For a second she forgot the situation, a gentle smile down at your waking form. Then reality came crashing.

“Hurry she's waking up!”

You felt the fabric of a blindfold as rough hands shoved it down before you could even open your eyes.

Hands were on your body, their touch felt familiar but not enough that you could place the figure. The blindfold cocooned your ears and amplified the sound of your breathing so that Clarke’s voice was a dull mumble.

You felt your body being released from your arms as your back sunk it to something soft and shiny. You immediately started trying to get free. Attempting to rip the blindfold off, you felt your hands and feet grabbed by multiple sets of limbs. Restraints were bound sloppily but tightly around your wrists, with the addition of the blindfold and multiple pairs of hands trying to hold you down you weren't making much, if any progress.

The smartest thing to do was to obliviate one of these obstacles. You choose the easiest one. Your hands clawed at your face, you could faintly feel your skin under your nails as you ripped at it before your fingers were finally able to latch onto the blindfold, yanking it down and around your neck.

Alie’s familiar red dress stood out strongly against the dull tones of the unfamiliar room. The group stood in tense anticipation as you snapped your head around, trying to recognize the room. You knew it wasn't part of the ark, it was too dirty and earth-like. The fur rug made you think Trikru but where you had no idea. When your mind drew a blank Alie grew frustrated. Or at least, her version of frustrated.

“We need to know where you are.”

Your thrashing resumed this time tenfold.

“WHERE AM I. WHERE AM I.”

They struggled to hold you down as you fought past your physical capabilities to escape. They all had a grip on a limb making movement nearly impossible. Injuries, even if you couldn’t feel them, weakened you.

You turned to the closest person, who happened to be Raven, and sunk your teeth into the flesh of her wrists. It was shallow, she yanked her hand back before you could go deeper. Her pain barely registered in your mind, her tears didn’t tug at your heart like you knew they should have.

Instead, you seized the opportunity to reach over and punch Jasper square in the nose. His hold loosed but by then Raven had latched back on, the blood from her wrists trickled slowly down onto your exposed skin. With each failed attempt at escaping struggling grew harder.

Clarke and Bellamy had been quick to grab a spare rope, using it to bound your hands and feet to the posts of the strange bed. You screamed in frustration as Alie stared at you. She showed no emotion, just the same semi-pleasant stare she always held.

“LET ME GO.”

You knew the awful things Alie could do and you were no stranger to them. The scream was a mix of terror and anger. You tossed your body up and down hoping to break the posts, the bed, something to set you free.

“LET ME GO LET ME GO LET ME GO.” Your voice grew more strained with every word. If you could feel pain your throat would probably ache immensely.

The group stepped back after thoroughly double-checking the knots. The sheer look of horror was displayed across all of their faces and it vexed you deeply

Didn't they know you were doing this for them? For her?

* * * * * * * *

Raven stood in the other room, watching you made her feel sick to her stomach. Not that listening to your screams from a different room made it any better. She could hear the creaking of the bed and pained screams throughout the entire house. So she stood, waiting anxiously with Clarke for their next move.

Her nails had been chewed to the beds and she knew that if- when you came to, you would scold her till her ears bleed.

Clarke said she knew where to get a wristband and Sinclair knew how to alter it to suit their needs. But Raven grew nervous with the time it was taking for either of them to follow through on these promises.

She glanced to where Clarke was talking to the grounder and felt her muscles tense when the girl gave Clarke an angry glare. Whatever Clarke was trying to achieve, she was doing a horrible job of it.

By now all of her nails had been chomped town to raw skin so she switched to pacing. Back and forth, back and forth trying to drown out your ever-fainting screams.

Raven let an audible sound of relief when Clarke set the wristband on the table. It had been a silent mutual agreement that Sinclair would be the one to work on the wristbands.

One part because He knew them best and the other because Raven couldn’t keep her fingers from trembling long enough to do the necessary machine work.

“So how do we do this?” Clarke seemed the calmest of them all. Losing Lexa had numbed her in a way.

“If we can turn it into an EMP we can use it to fry the bitch out of her head. The electromagnetic pulse would destroy the critics. You just need to reverse the polarity and...”

Raven droned on in her explanation, faintly aware of how quiet the neighboring room had grown.

“We don’t know what the chip embedded in her brain is like, it could cause a bad outcome”

“Worse than this?” Her question was met with a defeating silence. Not that she expected anyone would answer. She wasn’t feeling too strongly about the plan either but she couldn't watch you slowly break apart, her lover disappearing with every day until all that's left would be a hollow shell. She tried to reassure herself that it was what you would want.

The group continued to talk, working up a solution until they had a solid plan mapped out. Monty and Octavia had fled to the dropship to gather the necessary parts while everyone else had stayed behind.

She made her way back into the room to watch you.

Maybe for a moment, she could envision you back to normal, pretending that she was simply watching you blissfully relax.

* * * * * * * *

Raven stood in the corner of the room. Her posture was rigid and he hands crossed over her chest relaying defensive positioning.

Not that you even cared. You surveyed your bound wrists with a bored expression. Her eyes fluttered between you and the floor constantly. The floor was basic dirt and about as interesting as well... dirt. Meaning that she was avoiding your eyes.

You rolled your wrists thoughtfully considering a slip-out process, you knew how Raven worked, how she thought, her weak spots. You could take her easily. You tugged at the right wrist restarting trying desperately to wrench your wrist free.

Alie watched you robotically her red dress unnatural in the atmosphere.

“With marginally more slack, you could reach those knots.”

The idea hadn’t occurred to you before. without pain inhabilitating you, you’d be able to dislocate your shoulder, properly creating more slack.

You twisted, you could feel the muscles in your arm pulling taut as you put out exasperated grunts. Raven’s eyes snapped to yours, her worry clouding her fear.

“Y/N, please...”

When you made no effort to stop she took note of your clenched jaw and furrowed brow.

“What- what are you doing?”

Her voice no longer had any effect on you. Your heart didn’t ache when you saw the pain in her eyes, you didn’t feel the need to comfort her when you could sense her anxiety. You were trying to help her, get her to take the chip so that you could be happy together so that her pain could end. But until she did, she was just a pest in your mission.

You kept tugging, you could feel your muscles grow stressed as you got closer to your goal. The grinding of your bones scrapped your ears as your arm popped out of its socket.

Raven stood frozen in shock. The fear on her face was evident but she was too startled to have a reasonable reaction.

“There is no pain here Ray, you could be free.”

Maybe it was the nickname rolling off your tongue, it’s lack of love or familiarity, or maybe she saw you trying to chew off the restraints, but she finally snapped out of it.

“STOP IT! GUYS.”

The blood has started to run back down your arm. Somehow in forgetting pain you also forgot about death. Raven didn’t know what to do, how to stop you, and stop the bleeding all at once.

Her heart was pounding out of her chest as images of your still body lying in a pool of blood clouded her thoughts.

“Oh god.”

She reached for your head, her calloused fingers against your cheeks as she tried to turn your head away from her wrists. You snapped at her, your teeth clenching around the air, but it was enough to get her to let go. The memory of your teeth in her skin and the stinging of her wrist were a painful reminder of how far you would go.

Clarke came in as you resumed chewing on the restraints. So close...

Before you could get them Bellamy and Raven had yanked you away. Enforcing your body in its position with more rope.

Clarke shouted at you to stop but you drowned her out, straining your neck in a futile attempt to reach the restraints.

“Alie.”

Your head snapped to Jasper’s as the familiar probing sensation in your brain occurred. Everything went dark, when you came back to it, Alie was staring at you. The slightest traces of distaste etched across her red lips.

“Let them help you”

You froze, staring straight ahead. For a moment everyone else did too. Probably expecting you to lash out again and bite one of them. When you didn’t Raven quickly took to untying your wrists.

You watched her with faint interest. You couldn’t remember why you wanted to save her but you knew you did, somewhere deep down. Your eyes traveled down her arms. Her fingers were latched tightly around your arm. The teeth marks were barely visible, caked under her dried blood. Or maybe that was yours. You felt something in you ache, you can’t feel pain but this feeling... felt painful?

You pondered upon its appearance as Clarke used her foot to relocate your shoulder.

You didn’t even flinch.

* * * * * * * *

Raven had volunteered to stay with you. God knows why, you had hurt her enough. You rolled her eyes when she did, not that anyone noticed.

She sat at the end of the bed. you didn’t really mind, not that you could even do anything if you did.

You looked her up and down.

“Do you still cry?” It wasn’t really a question, you knew the answer. You just wanted to hear her say it.

Her eyes shot up to yours. Her hands tensed in her lap and you momentarily took note of her bloody nails.

“What”

“You used to cry over my leg. Why did you stop?”

She opened her mouth but then shut it not knowing how to answer, or who was even talking to her.

“If I’m being honest I think it was quite selfish of you. I’m the one with the fucked up leg and yet, I was the one comforting you about it.”

Her expression hardened but the tears in her eyes stayed. your stomach ached again but you ignored it.

“Get out of her head Alie”

You smiled at her, a nice teethy one, completely catching her off guard.

“It’s not Alie. It’s me Raven, your- your.” but your mind drew a blank. How did you know Raven? You couldn’t remember and it made you mad.

“You're the reason I’m in here. the reason I took the chip. Because you let me get shot.”

“Shut up.”

“You couldn’t help me and when I needed you most you disappeared.” you sneered at her as tears ran down her face.

“I’m sorry... I-”

Clarke’s hand was on her shoulder, leading her out of the room before you could get another jab in, but that didn’t stop you from trying.

“I HATE YOU RAVEN. I HATE YOU.”

* * * * * * * *

You watched as Sinclaire put together a type of bracelet device.

“Their design is good, I won’t be able to get here before they disconnect you.”

You felt your heart rate spike knowing what was to come and that you had no way of stopping it. You struggled to try to pull your hands free before they could latch the device on. Your attempts were pathetic.

“You know too much. I can’t let them have you.”

The red dress disappeared and your head felt like it was on fire.

Die. Die. Die. Die. Die.

You had to get rid of the burning, it engulfed your head, shooting from the base of your neck, its flame growing stronger every second. You slammed your head against the headboard. Once. Twice. Every time you did the burning seemed to stop for a second, so you speed up. Screaming as your brain felt like it was being incinerated. You didn’t even notice when the bracelet was strapped on. Your eyes moved to Raven's tear-stained face and her mouth open in an apparent scream.

You almost stopped. A second of hesitation before the banging resumed.

You didn’t notice when blood started to run down your neck or when Octavia grabbed your head in an attempt to hold it still. You tried to scream at them to stop, that they needed to let you stop the burning but you couldn’t seem to form words.

You screamed as tears ran down your eyes.

“Please please please Raven. I don’t wanna die. Please don’t let them kill me!” You hiccuped. Your neck continued to jolt as you tried to smash it against the headboard. She looked heartbroken as her hands fell to your cheeks. You closed your eyes as sobs racked your body. The faint feeling of her lips against your forehead felt like a drop of water in the desert.

“I’m sorry love” You felt all the blood in your body vibrate as the current soared through you.

* * * * * * * *

When you woke up everything hurt. The pain shocked you at first. You’d grow accustomed to its absence. You went to move your hands to your head, the sticky blood coated your fingers as they rested upon a thin cut at the base of your neck.

“Ow.”

Everyone let out an audible sigh of relief. Her familiar hands were on the sides of your head, pulling your face into her chest. You allowed her scent and the smooth folds of her shit to engulf your senses as you tried to ignore the bustling headache that was sneaking up on you.

As if suddenly remembering you grasped her forearms pulling them away from your head, You stared at the deep, red indentations on her wrists.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as you let out a soft gasp.

You had done that to her.

She sensed your emotions, she always did. And she always knew exactly what to do about it. Her hands moved back to your hair, stroking it gently while avoiding the cuts and bruises you’d received.

You stared up at her for a while until the pain grew too much and you closed your eyes, allowing your head to fall back forward against her stomach.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

173 notes · View notes

rax-writes · 3 years

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Love Letters

Fandom: Stranger Things Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader Warnings: None Notes: Once again, I thank @mxgyver for the inspiration. It appears that we’re both suckers for mutual pining. ♥

As you waved goodbye to your two best friends and left Scoops Ahoy, Robin watched Steve intently. She took note of the goofy, love-struck smile on his face, and the way he blatantly stared at your ass as you walked away, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Steve asked, redirecting his attention from you to his coworker – but only after you were completely out of his line of sight, not wanting to miss a second of his opportunity to admire you.

“You’ve got it bad, Harrington,” Robin observed, still chuckling.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve said, shrugging with feigned nonchalance as he leaned against the counter.

“Sure you don’t,” Robin responded sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “You need to just ask her out already.”

“Why? Do you think she’d say yes?” Steve asked quickly – a bit too quickly – which caused Robin to start laughing again. “Hey, I’m serious! You’ve been friends with her for way longer than I have. If anybody would know whether or not she likes me, it’d be you. So, come on, spill the beans.”

Steve wasn’t wrong. You and Robin had been best friends since middle school, but you had only recently befriended Steve, after you’d both gotten wrapped up in the Demodogs / Upside Down situation last fall. And yes, she definitely knew how you felt about him – specifically the ginormous crush you’d developed on “King Steve.”

Before now, Robin never would have pictured the two of you together. You used to be more of the nerdy type, preferring to keep to yourself and your few friends, whereas Steve was one of the most popular kids in high school. But now that she knew Steve outside of school, and from seeing how the two of you interact with one another – she thought you were the perfect pair.

“Well, obviously, I would be a terrible best friend if I were to, as you say, ‘spill the beans,’” Robin began, using air quotes to reference his previous comment.

“So there are beans to spill,” he noted, sounding excited.

Ignoring him, Robin continued, “However, I will say this: You remember that teddy bear you gave her earlier this year? That tiny, little red one?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, smiling warmly at the memory. “She wouldn’t admit it, but she was kind of sad because nobody sent her one of those dumb, anonymous carnations on Valentine’s Day at school, and everybody else had gotten at least one. So I ditched last period to run to the store and get her something, and that bear was pretty much all they had left. It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but she seemed to like it. She’s probably thrown it away by now, though.”

“She sleeps with it every single night.” Robin watched as Steve’s eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. “And the carnation you got? With the little note that said “I think you’re perfect”? That was from her.”

“What?!” he exclaimed, his jaw dropping. “There’s no way! I thought – I hoped it was her, so I compared her handwriting to the note, but it didn’t match!”

“That’s because she had me write it for her, so you wouldn’t know it was her.”

“Why didn’t she want me to know?” Steve asked, sadness tinting his voice. “I’d have asked her out on the spot.”

“I asked her the same thing, but she was adamant that you didn’t see her that way at all. She was worried that things between you would get weird if you knew the note was from her, but she still wanted to get it off her chest in some way, even if it was in secret.”

“Wow,” he murmured, staring at the ground in shock. “She’s the smartest girl I know, but she’s somehow so clueless…. I’ve been in love with her for months.”

“Well, I’ve said too much already, but I’ll reiterate: you need to ask her out already,” Robin stated, and Steve just nodded, lost in thought as he continued to stare blankly at the tile floor. After a couple seconds, he abruptly looked up at her, and she could practically see the lightbulb going off in his head.

“I know just the thing.”

Steve called you right when his shift ended at 4:00 PM, and asked you to come pick him up, claiming that his car wasn’t running and he needed a ride home. When you got there, he was waiting for you outside the mall, having changed out of his work uniform into a sweater and jeans (and touched up his hair, of course). He jogged over to your car just as you parked, and waved for you to roll down your window.

“Hey, before we go, would you mind coming in with me? There’s something I want to show you.”

If it had been anyone else, you might have said no, that you're tired and you'd rather just go home. But this was Steve, and he was looking at you with those big, brown puppy-dog eyes. So, you smiled and nodded at him, then got out of your car to follow him. He took a second to double-check the mall map just inside the front doors, then grabbed your hand, saying, “Come on, it’s this way.” You were really glad that he was busy navigating to wherever the hell it was he was taking you, because that meant he didn’t notice how red your face got.

The fact that Steve fucking Harrington was holding your hand dazed you to the point that you weren’t paying attention in the slightest as he led you through the mall. Eventually, he stopped in front of a store, which was evidently your destination. You looked up to see a sign saying ‘Build-A-Bear’ atop the doorway. Steve just grinned at you, excitement written all over his face, as you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Uh… are we at the right place?”

“Yep!” he answered simply, before pulling you inside. You tried to hide your frown as he let go of your hand, before he placed his hands on your shoulders and spun you to face the wall of... what appeared to be empty stuffed animal carcases. “Alright, pick one.”

It finally clicked then: he took you here to have you make one as a gift. You turned to him with a bright smile, “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he answered, mirroring your smile. “Whichever one you want.”

You spent a good ten minutes figuring out which you liked best, before deciding on a soft, dark brown bear. You told Steve that you just thought this one was the cutest, but really, it was the fact that its color reminded you of Steve’s eyes, and its fluffy fur reminded you of Steve’s hair. (And yes, you’re well aware that that’s super cheesy.) The employee smiled kindly at the two of you as you brought the bear over to her for stuffing. She gave you the same spiel that she’d have given a child – such as instructing you to place a kiss on the tiny felt heart before she put it in the bear’s chest, so “she’ll always know how much you love her!” Steve watched you with adoration as you followed along with all the steps, before the lady asked if you’d like to record something on their little gadget and place it in the bear’s paw, so that whenever you squeezed that spot, it would play.

“Yes, yes we do,” Steve interjected, and you glanced at him. He ignored your confusion, asking the woman, “Is it okay if I borrow it for a minute? I want to record something, but I don’t want my friend here to hear it just yet.”

The lady handed him the device, and he shot you a grin before holding up a finger to signal that he’d be back in one moment, then jogged outside the store. After about a minute, Steve jogged back in and returned it to the lady. You continued to look at him with a raised brow, but he ignored you, standing silently next to you as he watched the employee. She was careful to not press on the device, which would ruin Steve’s little surprise, as she placed it in the bear’s paw, then added your desired amount of stuffing to the bear with their fancy machine, sewed it up, and handed it back to you. She guided the two of you over to the register, where Steve paid for your bear, then walked with you out of the store, heading back to the parking lot.

“So when exactly am I allowed to listen to this super secret message?” you inquired, glancing up at Steve, who just smiled slightly. Wordlessly, he took your free hand, just as he had on the way to Build-A-Bear, and you held the bear tightly to your chest with your other arm. The same blush from before crawled its way up your neck and onto your face.

“You can in just a minute, when we get outside.”

You nodded, then cleared your throat and started speaking about the first thing that came to mind, to try and distract yourself so that the blush would fade. Unfortunately for you, what you ended up rambling about only caused you more embarrassment, and the blush worsened.

“I forgot to say it earlier, but thank you so much for getting this for me. It was an awesome surprise. This is probably kind of dumb, but I, uh… I’ve still got that one you gave me on Valentine’s Day. It’s getting kind of worn out, so –” you cut yourself off, realizing that you almost admitted to sleeping with the damn thing, which would probably sound super weird to him. “Well, I mean, it’s just sitting up on a shelf or whatever, so it’s not getting worn out, just… dusty. Yeah, it’s getting dusty. Um, anyway, this is a nice upgrade from that one, and I appreciate it.”

Steve chuckled as he nodded, then responded sincerely, “It’s no problem. I’m glad you like it – and I’m glad you kept the one from Valentine’s Day.”

He held the door open for you as you exited the mall, and headed back over to your car. The anticipation began to bubble up inside you, as you started to seriously wonder what in the world he would have said on the recording. Steve remained silent as you maneuvered through the parking lot, and both times you glanced at him, he looked almost… nervous? Must have been worrying about what’s wrong with his vehicle or something, you thought. Before you could ask, you’d arrived at your car, so you quickly leaned against the hood and faced him.

“Can I listen to it now?”

Steve took a deep breath, then gave you a worry-laced smile and said, “Yeah, go for it.”

You practically squealed with excitement as you held the bear in front of you and squeezed his paw, then you heard Steve’s voice through the tiny speaker.

“A little birdie told me that you’re the one who sent me that carnation on Valentine’s Day senior year. And I just wanted to say… I think you’re perfect, too. And I love you. Will you be my girlfriend?”

You felt your heart stop and your breath catch in your throat. You stared at the bear for a few moments, before you determined that yes, the recording had actually said that. It wasn’t a figment of your imagination. Steve Harrington just said that he loves you and asked you to be his girlfriend. Holy shit. Holy shit.

“So, um…” Steve began, snapping you out of your stupor. He cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets. “If you don’t feel the same way, that’s totally fine. I mean, Valentine’s Day was months ago, so I get it if your feelings have changed or whatever. I just… I don’t know, I wanted to give it a shot, but you don’t –”

Without even thinking, you lunged at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. You poured as much warmth and passion and love into the kiss as you could, and relished in the feeling of his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you tightly against his chest. It felt like the kiss lasted for an eternity, but it still wasn’t long enough before you pulled away slightly to catch your breath, and respond how you should have responded a few minutes ago, if you hadn’t been stunned to silence.

“Nothing has changed, Steve. I definitely still think you’re perfect. I love you too, and I want nothing more than to be your girlfriend.”

“Oh, thank God,” he muttered, then let out a loud exhale. “You got so quiet after you played the recording, I was scared shitless.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, chuckling at how visibly terrified he was. He just smiled at you.

“It’s okay. The most amazing, beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted woman I’ve ever met is my girlfriend now, so I’d say I’m doing alright,” Steve quipped, then kissed you again, slower and sweeter this time. He abruptly pulled back a bit, “Oh yeah, by the way, my car is fine.”

“So this was all just a clever ruse to get me here, to Build-A-Bear?” you asked, grinning. Then a realization dawned on you. “Wait, Robin told you about the note?!”

Steve burst into laughter, then nodded. “Don’t be mad at her, though! She only told me about it to convince me to ask you out. Just like you with the carnation, I’ve been terrified to tell you how I feel, because I was scared to make things weird – or worse, lose you as a friend.”

“Hate to break it to ya, but you’re stuck with me, Stevie,” you stated, giving him another quick kiss. Steve smiled down at you, his eyes full of adoration.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fan fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington fluff #my writing #stranger things

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agere-fandom-time · 3 years

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Hi hi!! Can I gets a fic with toddler regressor! Midoriya izuku going nonverbal during an outing and lowkey regressing but he doesnt know what's happening and he just kind of rolls with it and the rest of 1-A's just like "whelp, looks like we've got a toddler on our hands??" Idk idk but yeah. Please n thankies

I loved this idea so much. Here is your fanfiction!! Mainly featuring Todoroki, Tokoyami, and Asui as the caregivers, with brief appearances from most of Class 1-A but I couldn’t fit everyone in. Also some Dadzawa, of course.

Can be read below the 'read more’ or here on AO3.

Content Warnings: Sensory overload, non-verbal regression, briefly mentioned fear of Bakugou, involuntary regression in public.

-Mod Stella

Izuku had always enjoyed shopping with his class.

Of course, now that they had moved into the dorms, there were new rules. A teacher had to come with them, and the students were required to stay in groups of three at all times. They had gone shopping in chaotic groups in their first year, but now leaving campus was an entire event, filled with paperwork and anticipation.

Today, Izuku sat in the middle of the bus between Ochako and Shouto, discussing their math homework. Around them, the rest of 1-A was humming with gossip and excitement as the city sped by outside the bus. Eventually, the conversation turned to specific questions, and all three pulled out their notebooks to compare their answers.

Kaminari wandered over to check on Ochako’s answers, earing him a smack on the head from Kirishima.

“Dude, come one, cheating is totally uncool!”

“I was just checking my answer,” Kaminari pouted, rubbing his head. “I wanted to know if I got question three right!”

“Bring your notebook over,” said Izuku. “The more the merrier!”

By the time they reached the mall, half of the class had their notebooks out and were arguing about the bonus question.

“Not to discourage you from schoolwork, but we could have stayed on campus if you wanted a study session,” Aizawa called from the front of the bus as the doors opened.

“We’re here!” Mina cried, shoving her notebook into her backpack and bolting for the door without zipping up her bag. Izuku could see her through the bus windows as the rest of the class followed her, bouncing impatiently in place as she waited for them. Izuku joined the line outside the bus, waiting for Aizawa to check the class numbers and announce the groups for today.

“Alright, pick your own trios today. Feel free to travel in groups of six, but don’t be a pain for the other people at the mall. Behave while you’re here.” Aizawa’s glare travelled across the class, and Izuku nodded furiously. He wasn’t going to cause any trouble this time!

Izuku was so busy nodding that he almost missed when people started mingling to form trios. He quickly located his nearest friend, which was Shouto, and walked towards him. It looked like he had already paired up with Tokoyami and they were just waiting for a third.

“Mind if I join you guys?” Izuku asked, hooking his thumbs into the straps of his backpack as he got closer.

“You are welcome,” Tokoyami said. Shouto simply nodded and shifted his body to include Izuku in their little circle.

“Cool, thanks!” Izuku took his place with them, watching the rest of the class divide themselves. Most of them were split by gender, having discovered that the boys and girls tended to shop in different places. Aoyama and Mina were the exception to the rule, an inseparable shopping duo. Hagakure had joined them today, and the three were already planning their route through the mall with loud enthusiasm.

“Do you guys need to visit any clothes stores? I’ve gone through, like, ten pairs of socks since our last trip, but I’m okay aside from that,” Izuku admitted. “I’d love to check out the new All Might figurines, I think the games store carries them here…” His trio started to plan their trip with far less fanfare than Aoyama’s.

“You have until five,” Aizawa called into the noise of the class. “Text me if there’s trouble, I’ll be in the food court keeping an eye out.”

“Yes sensei,” the class chorused. Finally free, they filed into the mall in an exuberant crowd.

Izuku, Shouto, and Tokoyami ended up in the bookstore first, trailing each other to their preferred sections (Izuku the manga, Shouto the poetry, and Tokoyami the historical fiction, which Izuku wouldn’t have guessed). All three of them found something to take home and they re-entered the main hallway of the mall with new bags hanging on their arms.

Excited as Izuku was to read his new magazine, the sound of the mall was starting to grate on him. The lights were slightly too bright, and the rustle of plastic bags clashed with the incessant noise of the crowd. People rushed past each other, occasionally brushing against Izuku, and he had to control his instinct to flinch whenever someone stepped on his foot or bumped into his shoulder.

Izuku trailed behind the others, focusing on Tokoyami’s sneakers so that he wouldn’t lose them. He tried to shut out the sounds of the mall, with limited success. There was just too much.

“Are you alright?”

Izuku was surprised to hear Shouto’s quiet voice from his left, and glanced up to see the other boy walking beside him, forehead creased with concern. Izuku smiled and went to say… something. But he couldn’t quite figure out what to say, or how to say it, so he settled for giving Shouto a thumbs-up. Shouto’s expression did something too complicated for Izuku to follow, and then he offered a subtle smile and an outstretched hand.

Izuku didn’t think twice before sliding his hand into Shouto’s, and everything was immediately better. Had the mall been too bright? It was very nice, almost sunny. It was still a little too loud, but he didn’t have to worry about that. He just had to follow Shouto wherever he went, hand-in-hand.

Knowing he wouldn’t lose his friends, Izuku was free to look around. And there was a lot to look at. Lots of strangers, and bright coloured clothing in the shop windows, and… ah!! All Might figurines!

Izuku dug his heels in, pulling Shouto to a stop. Shouto looked back with concern on his face, but Izuku smiled and pointed towards the shop with figurines in the window, and Shouto’s expression cleared.

“Tokoyami!” Shouto called into the crowd ahead of them. “Izuku wants to stop.”

It only took a moment for Tokoyami to join them, glancing briefly down at their joined hands. “I’m with you,” he nodded. “I will follow.”

Izuku tugged Shouto towards the games and collectibles store. There were so many things in here that Izuku loved! So many heroes and cool clothing and wow! Izuku bounced on his heels a little as he pulled Shouto into the store.

Once they were inside, Izuku let go of Shouto’s hand and dove in. There were plushies to feel, and figurines to inspect, and lots of games to check out! Distantly, he was aware of the others following close behind, murmuring to each other. But the merch was so much more important. Lots of All Might, of course, but there was a plushie of Thirteen that Izuku had to take a minute to cuddle. Ochako would probably like that: she was a big Thirteen fan, and had a fair number of plushies. And there was a Crimson Riot figurine that made Izuku think of Kaminari. He gave it a pat on the spiky head. Izuku didn’t hug Kaminari enough. He gave good hugs.

Finished with his inspection, Izuku turned back to his friends and reclaimed Shouto’s hand, leaning contentedly against his side. It made him happy just to be here, surrounded by all these things he could buy, and his friends as well. Tokoyami was on Izuku’s other side, and he bumped his beak lightly against Izuku’s head when Izuku came to join them. Izuku blinked at him. Was that how birds said hello?

Izuku tried to return the gesture, but he didn’t have a beak, so he just poked his nose into Tokoyami’s jawline. He heard Shouto stifle a laugh behind him, and he was pulled back to Shouto’s side.

“Be nice to Tokoyami,” Shouto said. Izuku tilted his head, confused. He was being nice! He was saying hello.

“Should we find another group?” Tokoyami suggested quietly. “Would you like to see Uraraka?” he asked Izuku.

Izuku nodded. Why wouldn’t he want to see Ochako? She was one of his best friends!

“Sounds good.” Shouto’s fingers wrapped a little more firmly around Izuku’s as they started to walk again. Izuku continued to stare around the mall. Everything seemed so fast and loud and big. Was this how the world always was? Something felt off, but Izuku couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

Suddenly, there was movement through the crowd: Kacchan shoving his way through a group of preteen girls with his usual murderous expression, Kaminari and Kirishima loudly apologizing as they followed in his wake.

Izuku did his best to hide behind Tokoyami and Shouto, pressing closer to Tokoyami in the process. A face emerged from Tokoyami’s shoulder, making Izuku jump, but it was just a small part of Dark Shadow stretching lazily from Tokoyami’s shirt, glancing at Izuku and then back towards Kacchan’s trio.

“Don’t worry, kid, we’ve got your back,” Dark Shadow muttered, and did the same beak thing that Tokoyami had done, pressing gently against Izuku’s forehead and then retreating back into Tokoyami’s shoulder.

Izuku stared at the place where the shadow had been, mouth slightly open.

“Still alright?” Shouto asked, pressing Izuku’s hand lightly. “Do you want to get some headphones from Aizawa or Iida?”

Izuku shook his head. Less sound was nice, but he liked being able to hear his friends’ voices. Shouto gave him a thumbs-up, and Izuku mirrored the gesture with a grin.

“There they are,” Izuku heard Tokoyami announce. “Dark Shadow, get their attention.”

“Alright, alright, jeez.” Dark Shadow jumped from Tokoyami’s back and stretched above the crowd, waving a clawed hand. That got a lot of the crowd’s attention, but soon Izuku could see who he’d been gesturing at: a group of four girls, Ochako at their head, was coming over towards them.

“Hey Tokoyami, hey Dark Shadow! What’s up?” Ochako asked.

“I believe we have completed our expedition. We wanted to check with other members of our class,” Tokoyami said. Izuku frowned. Were they really done? But he needed… socks? Or maybe food? He was supposed to buy something.

“Hey, Izuku,” Tsu said, coming to join them. “How’s the trip?”

Izuku was slowly getting used to the weird twisting sensation that kept happening when he tried to talk. He gave Tsu another smile and thumbs-up. She nodded, her tongue poking out from her mouth.

“Don’t feel like talking? I get that. Ribbit. Do you want to go back to the bus?”

Izuku was conflicted. It would be quieter on the bus, and maybe he could even lie down, but all his friends were here! He didn’t want to be alone.

Not knowing how to express the feeling, Izuku reached his free hand towards Tsu and wiggled his fingers. Seeming to understand, Tsu moved forwards and curled her hand in his, and Izuku squeezed both her and Shouto’s hands.

“We’d come with you, if you wanted,” Tsu said. “I’m pretty much finished, and the others will still be a group if we head out. We’d have to check in with Aizawa-sensei, ribbit, but he won’t mind.” Izuku liked the idea of talking to Aizawa. He took care of the class. Izuku felt safer with Aizawa, and when his friends were with Aizawa.

Izuku reluctantly nodded. There was more to see at the mall, and he was sad to miss it, but the idea of curling up on the bus and relaxing with his friends sounded a lot better.

“Well, let’s go then!” Tsu said, pointing towards the food court.

“Wait, wait, I want to give Izuku a hug!” Ochako yelled, and then there were arms wrapping around Izuku from behind, pulling him back into Ochako’s familiar embrace.

Izuku melted, arms dropping to his sides and his weight leaning back into Ochako. She made a surprised noise, tilting back under the pressure, and then Izuku was weightless and Ochako pulled him properly into her arms.

“Hey, Izuku,” she murmured. “I’m sorry you’re going, but I hope you have a good time with Tsu and Todoroki.”

“Mmm!” Izuku said, hoping that Ochako would understand that he meant that he would definitely have a good time, and it was a very nice hug, and thank you very much.

“Okay, I’ll let you go,” Ochako sighed, and pressed a kiss to the top of Izuku’s head, right on his hair. He squeaked and felt his cheeks flush from the unexpected affection. It had felt… a lot like Tokoyami’s beak, actually. But kind of softer. “Take care of him, you two!”

“You know we will, ribbit.”

His weight restored and his hands taken again by his friends, Izuku turned to smile over his shoulder at Ochako as he was led away, his face still warm from the kiss. She smiled and waved, before turning back to Jiro, Momo, and Tokoyami. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Ochako’s voice was high-pitched and excited as she joined the conversation. Hopefully they were having fun.

“Careful, Izuku,” Shouto said, tugging at his hand. “Watch where you’re going.”

Izuku turned his eyes back to the front just in time to let Tsu and Shoto navigate him around a support beam that had been coming a little too close for comfort. Then they were in the food court, the crowd less chaotic here but the conversations louder.

Aizawa was sitting alone, dressed in passably civilian clothes with his capture weapon draped around his neck, phone in one hand. He lifted his chin as soon as Izuku and his friends stepped into view, acknowledging them as they headed towards him.

“Hey sensei,” Tsu said, when they got close enough. “Izuku’s a little overwhelmed and we were thinking about heading back to the bus for a while.”

“Did something happen?” Aizawa asked, directing the question towards both Izuku and Tsu as his eyes flickered between the three of them.

“Not as far as I know,” Shouto answered. “I think it was just the mall.” His thumb swiped across the back of Izuku’s hand. “Do you know?”

Izuku shook his head, then gently pulled his hands free.

Loud, he signed to Aizawa, whose eyes followed the gesture. Bright. Tired.

“Do you want a set of headphones?” Aizawa offered, making a shift towards the bag he’d brought along.

Izuku shook his head. Friends, he signed. Thank you.

“Suit yourself. How about a fidget toy?”

That sounded tempting, and Izuku’s face must have shown it, because Aizawa was rummaging in his bag and tossing things onto the table shortly thereafter. A Rubix cube, a length of string for cat’s cradle, squares of paper for folding, and a miscellany of little fidget gadgets. Izuku chose a set of interlocking rings that made a nice sound when he rattled them, and were fun to twist around each other. He gave Aizawa a smile and a bow, and then put the rings in his mouth. They were cool and metallic, and interesting to bite, but not very nice on Izuku’s teeth.

“Hmm.” Aizawa said, looking unimpressed. “I’ll have to clean those. And get you a proper chew if you’re going to be putting things in your mouth. Maybe a necklace so you can keep track of it.” He packed the rest of the fidget toys away, but not before tossing Tsu her favourite fidget cube and a set of keys. “Lock the bus doors behind you. If those keys go anywhere near the ignition, you’ll be expelled.”

“Yes, sensei,” Tsu agreed, tucking the cube and the keys into her pocket. “We’ll be careful.”

“You’d better be,” Aizawa said. “And take care of Problem Child.” Izuku perked up at the nickname. That was him! Aizawa was talking about him!

“Why is everyone saying that today?” Shouto said. “Of course we will.” He rested a hand on Izuku’s shoulder, which was almost as nice as holding his hand. Izuku leaned into the touch, eyes closing for a moment. He felt very tired all of a sudden.

“Come on, Izuku,” Tsu said, and then his hands were taken again and he was led away, out of the mall. Izuku’s eyes were more closed than open now, and the mall passed in brief flashes of colour and crowd. With a friend on each side, deflecting the traffic, no one bumped into him. Soon enough, they were in the fresh spring air, and Izuku blinked his eyes open to stare up at the clear blue sky, breathing in the taste of petals and dirt.

His friends were by his side, the smell of spring was in the air, and Izuku felt better than ever. The world was very big, but it didn’t matter because his friends were there. They would take care of him. He was safe.

#agere fanfiction #agere writing #fandom agere #bnha agere #agere story #sfw agere #mod stella #anon #bnha

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doloresdraws · 3 years

Photo

I am slowly filling this OC question meme with all my WoD characters and it is a lot of fun, but also very exhausting.

Here is your chance to get to know more about Stanley, my sewer goblin Nosferatu boy ❤ ❤ ❤

❤ There is also a video process of this painting on my Youtube channel ❤

1) Stanley rarely gets angry, when he is supposed to be angry he instead get anxious and either starts to talk nonsense or stays silent.

2) He finds the idea lovely, but he knows that he will never meet anyone he could call a soulmate

3) More than being a pet peeve it just really makes him uncomfortable: when people are loudly shouting at him or at someone else.

4) He often thinks about his early childhood before he was seprated from his baby sister.

5) Probably the time he spent in the hospital before he found out about the Nosferatu and became their ghoul. Before that incident, he was feeling safe, taken care of and loved having a routine, knowing the place well and always looked forward to visits from his sister.

6) When he was separated from his sister and put into different foster homes.

7) He wouldn’t even go to a bar, too many people and too loud for his taste.

8) He was pretty badly beaten up when he was living on the street, but nothing was ever broken. After the Embrace he made Maks (his Sire) pretty unhappy a few times which resulted in him getting a few broken ribs. He tries to stay away from danger, but sometimes it doesn’t work out.

9) He would like to forget finding a dead woman’s body in the sewers.

10) His happiest memory is playing peek-a-boo with his sister in the driveway, he was oblivious about the world and his future. Life was good at that moment.

11) No, he doesn’t. His type is everyone who would treat him nice and made him feel safe :) He currently has a woman he got kinda attached to, only because she was nice to him when he accidentally bumped into her on the street. He had a hoodie over his face and it was dark. She thought he was a homeless kid. She helped him gather all of the small trinkets he dropped in the collision and he was captivated by her kindness, so he followed her home XD

12) Many – he has a collection of various random things he found in the sewers, he collects everything that catches his attention – mainly some personal things like rings, bracelettes, scrunchies, he even found a photo album. He remembers the exact place he found each of his possessions and he likes to imagine stories for each item. He keeps bracelet of the dead woman in case he would one day found out her identity and could return it to her family.

13+14) He has no tattoos or piercings, only way too many fangs in his small mouth that pierce his lips and cheeks XD

15) His dream house would be somewhere where he would be frozen in time as a happy child together with his sister.

16) You would not expect to find out that he is actually not a child, but a grown man, his small and frail stature is deceiving.

17) He has always good intentions with gifts, but he is not the best at choosing gifts XD He misjudges other people’s interest in smelly, sewer treasures XD

18) He knows he has a great memory, but because it has brought him so much trouble, both internal and external, he isn’t really proud or even happy he has an eidetic memory.

19) A stranger would describe him as a weird, smelly kid who talks too fast XD

20) Someone who spent more time around him and got to know him more (Mateusz) would describe him as a scared, smol man who might look like he can’t even count to ten but is actually very clever, but let others walk all over him because he is afraid of conflict.

21) He, himself is a walking insecurity :) But his biggest one is to not be understood when talking as he normally talks pretty fast, but when he is nervous and considering how many fangs he has it is sometimes hard for him to make sense and then he gets even more agitated as he is worried he will convey the message in a wrong way.

22) Physical: dexterity, non-physical: wits

23) Depends on the nature of the lie, most likely he would just nod and tried to understand the reason why he was lied to.

24) He has fond memories of the summer as when he was on the street, summer nights were warm and he didn’t have to worry about freezing to death. Aside this he is indifferent to the weather.

25) From romantic point of view he never had anyone he could say these words to, in general terms he only said I love you to his sister. He wouldn’t have a problem saying it first, but as a Nossie he knows that chances of him finding someone who would even want to spend time with him are almost none, so he will probably never say it to anyone else.

26) His only issue with openly sharing his worries is his fear of not being believed or worse be punished, so it depends on the person. If he knows that the person won’t get angry at him, he will share his worries.

27) No, he never saw anyone die. But the dead woman in the sewers was the first dead body he saw and he can’t erase the empty look on her face, it haunts him every night. He feels sad for her, being left there nameless, alone, dumped like trash. She surely had family somewhere and maybe they are still looking for her to this day…just like his sister is looking for him…

28) He totally is ticklish, he is very sensitive to touch, mainly because he is not used to be touched at the first place.

29) Very low pain tolerance, he hates being in physical pain and he knows that he now can heal pretty much everything, but it doesn’t take away the fact that he would much rather avoid getting hurt in the first place.

30) He wishes he would have been brave enough to say no to some of the things he is asked to do.

31) He isn’t a particularly messy eater, he mainly feeds on rats, not because of the guilt, but because he thinks that feeding from mortals is very stressful and scary ordeal.

32) Most unloved: when he got stuck obfuscated in the same room as the woman he followed home and unfortunately had to watch her and her date being intimate with each other. Not only he felt innapropriate, but it made him feel so lonely and sad that he never in his life felt so safe with someone to share such closeness and now he never will.

33) When he was reunited with his sister after years apart. Despite her being the younger sibling she basically took care for him and did everything she could to get his mental health problems under control.

34) He would most likely hate to lose touch as he likes to touch things XD On the other hand he would gladly lost hearing, so he could no longer spy on people :D

35) He likes small talk, because it feels relaxing and he doesn’t have to worry about saying too much.

36) He would have asked Maks if he ever cared about him as a person or if he just considered him a tool, a good asset to have because of his memory skills.

37) To the past, to his early childhood to spend more time as a naive child with the person he cares the most in the world.

38) positive: his sister – she made him feel loved and made him feel like he mattered, the staff and other patients in the hospital – they made him feel safe, cared for and not alone, negative: various people he met while he was on the street, his foster families, and to an extent his biological parents though he didn’t meet with them after.

39) Depends, in the hospital he liked being surrounded by people because they were nice and he felt safe with them, as a Nossie he prefers to be alone because the other Kindred most often than not scare him. He likes to spend time with Jamie (the ghoul that is living in the sewers with them) because of her child-like personality, she seems harmless and he likes that.

40) The scary thing that he had seen in one part of the tunnels one night, nobody believes him but he is pretty sure there is something terriyfing livin there. Aside this probably his Sire Maks, but he had heard that he met Final death.. apparently by Mateusz’s hands of all people…

Stanley © me/doloresdraws

#my art #clan nosferatu #oc Stanley #vamily #doloresdrawsocs #wod #World Of Darkness #vtm #vtr #vampire the requiem #vampire the masquerade #digital portait #digital painting #Vampire Art #chronicles of darkness #nossies

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acecorvid · 3 years

Text

Hurts Me To Watch You Fading [Spideypool Fic]

Was going through the prompts that have been in my inbox for AGES when I got a sudden burst of inspiration to write my boys again. So even though it’s been *looks at watch* nearly two years fuck since I’ve written fanfic... here’s some hurt/comfort for y’all (or if you’d rather read on ao3)

Anon asks: Hi! I just read your fic with peter being super adorable in his deadpool hoodie and saw you're taking prompts. Seeing as you're asexual (like me!) I was wondering if you would write asexual peter having to explain to wade that he doesn't initiate sex because it's just not something he really thinks about much and not because of how wade looks

(Content warning for Wade being self-conscious about his body/scars)

Somehow Wade always found his way to Peter’s dorm room at the end of a long hard day of work. Which for Wade meant an early morning raid ending with several dead bodies, including his own a few times, but by the end Wade was in one piece and his suit was in less pieces and all the bad guys were dead. Next he needed to get all the blood out of his suit earning him another blank look of disappointment from his local definitely-not-a-front dry cleaners. They never questioned his circumstances and he didn’t much care what they got up to as long as people weren’t dying, leaving them with a silent, mutually beneficial relationship.

Now he was in Parker’s dorm wearing comfy jeans and a hoodie that mostly covered his face if he lowered his head, something he did quite often. He didn’t entirely mind his appearance anymore, having gotten used to freaking himself out in mirrors the past few years. But it was other people’s reactions that made him feel like crap. The looks of disgust strangers gave him as he passed, the people who grabbed their kids and moved to the other side of the street, the ones who laughed at and mocked him hit a little too close to his time being experimented on. Sure he could easily use humor more efficiently than the assholes who mocked him to put them in their place but humor as a defense mechanism only went so far and the hurt still went deep.

What was getting to him lately was his relationship with Peter. They had officially started dating several months ago, even if they had been flirting heavily on the random patrols as Spider-Man and Deadpool. But then Peter told him his secret identity and kissed him through his mask so tenderly and Wade didn’t think he could be more in love. Except they hadn’t gotten much further than tender kisses or cuddles. Not that Wade minded, it was comforting to be held the way Peter held him. He’d never had someone who he could truly let his guard down around, who was okay with him being soft and quiet.

But every time they started to makeout, to get to the hot and heavy stuff, Peter would carefully untangle them, change the subject, shy away from any skin being shown, and they would watch cartoons or get food or anything other than being that kind of intimate with Wade.

Not that he minded at first, Peter was a shy dude. He wasn’t like so many college guys who partied all the time and hooked up with whoever. He was a shy nerd and he was a superhero on the downlow, of course he wouldn’t have time for that but he also didn’t have any interest in it either. But Wade was starting to feel like Peter didn’t have any interest in him.

Staring at himself in Peter’s mirror sans mask told him exactly why someone would have no interest in getting hot and heavy and naked with him. He’s had that many times. Flirting with a girl at the supermarket only for her to freakout once he peeled his mask up, hitting on a guy in a dark bar only for him to be disgusted once they moved into the light. It was a common occurrence for him. He thought Peter would be different. He was different. He didn’t shy away when Wade took his mask off and kissed him, but maybe he was good at faking it? Maybe he could deal with his face but the rest of his body was too much. His skin was rough and patchy, awful to look at and even less appealing to touch.

He rubbed his hand over his face and head, shaking off his hood to get a good look at the mess he usually hid from most people. Everyone had their limits. Perhaps this was Parker’s.

The key in the door alerted Wade to Peter’s return. Quickly he pulled his hood back up and retreated to the bed, ducking his head just as Peter walked in through the door. He looked somewhat surprised, but he relaxed immediately.

“Hey,” Peter said softly. A smile tugged at his lips as he closed the door gently behind him.

He seemed pleased to see Wade. Genuinely content with having him in his room. Nothing was matching up in Wade’s mind.

“Hey Peter…” Wade started but trailed off before he could ask the question. He hated being in this position. He wished he could know the truth. For Peter to tell him he was disgusted by his wrecked body without prompting so he could crawl back to his old life and forget about this magical interlude.

But Peter being Peter, he noticed something was off immediately. “What’s wrong? You almost never call me Peter, did something happen?”

He was closer now, trying to get a good look at Wade’s face but Wade angled his face away. That got him a sigh but Peter respected his boundaries and stepped away, leaning against the wall instead.

“Do you want to talk to me about it?”

Wade shook his head, nodded, and then shook his head again. Screw Peter for being such a good guy, a respectful person, such a sweetheart. It was ruining what his brain was hooked on as the clear truth. Maybe Peter wasn’t disgusted with him but what else could it be?

“I’m not really pleasant to look at, huh?” Wade said instead, unable to confront Peter directly.

Peter pushed off the wall but stopped himself from coming closer. “Did someone say that to you?”

He sounded angry, on Wade’s behalf. Once again messing with Wade’s doubts.

“All the time, but that’s not-” Wade chewed his lip, took a deep breath, and took the plunge.

He took his mask off, revealing his unmasked face and head. Peter didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. He was frowning a bit but not at Wade’s appearance it seemed. It wasn’t as though this was the first time Peter saw his face but it wasn’t a common thing between them. Wade preferred to simply roll up his mask most of the time for their kisses, not wanting to feel too self-conscious.

“Do you- are you-” Wade hated this feeling, wishing he could go back to witty one-liners and existential statements that bewildered those around him. Feelings did terrible things to his dialogue. “I know I look like ground up hamburger meat, Petey. I’m a big boy, you can tell me the truth if you think I’m too gross.”

Wade was aiming for humor, swerved into something a little more bitter, and he cursed himself for putting that hurt look on Peter’s face.

“Wade I don’t think-” Peter started, he furrowed his brows and moved closer but slowly, as though Wade would run away if he was startled. Not a bad call. Wade was pretty close to bolting actually. But Peter crept close, slowly, and stopped a few paces away. Wade wanted him to come closer, stand right between his legs on the bed so Wade could pull him in close and hold him until he wasn’t upset. But he ruined that.

“We don’t do anything more than kissing. You never want to- I get it,” Wade laughed, tugging on his hoodie. “It’s not pretty under here Pete, no one ever wants to look at it. It won’t kill me if you tell me you don’t want to see it or touch me.” He wasn’t lying. It would hurt like hell but nothing could kill him. Unpleasant side-effects of looking the way he did.

Peter surprised him by doing exactly what Wade wanted. He moved closer, slotting himself between Wade’s legs and putting his hands on Wade’s shoulders to get him to look up.

“I’m such an idiot,” Peter mumbled, sounding mad at himself. Probably for not being able to hide his disgust, for making Wade realize exactly what was going on. Now he’d have to let Wade down. That’s simply the way the world worked for guys like him.

“I should have told you a while ago but, I dunno, I was scared I guess?”

Here it comes, Wade closed his eyes to brace himself for the impact.

“I don’t initiate anything more because I’m asexual. I don’t really, I dunno, have a lot of interest in sex? I mean maybe I could be if we talked about it but it’s never really on my mind. It’s got nothing to do with how you look, Wade. I like how you look just fine. I think you’re pretty cute, that’s part of why I’m dating you. Also your muscles are amazing, the general aesthetic of your body and you lifting me up? That’s about as close to sexual attraction as I’ve ever come.”

Wade felt his world tilt and it was entirely unexpected. “Wait you’re-” All of Wade’s otherworldly knowledge hadn’t prepared him for that possibility. That almost never happened.

Peter leaned down, bringing both his hands to cup Wade’s cheeks. “You’re not disgusting, Wade. And anyone who says that will get their mouth webbed shut.”

Wade nuzzled into Peter’s hand, “That’s not the best use of superhero powers.”

“I’m defending the innocent, hush it’s the perfect use of my powers.”

“Innocent?” Wade arched his brow, staring up at his boyfriend who actually wanted him.

“Okay, well… maybe not innocent in the traditional sense but you look the way you do because you survived, you fought through hell and you got out, and that’s pretty damn attractive.”

Wade wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist, pulling him in closer. Peter laughed, leaning in to kiss him soundly on the lips. “So, opening to talking about it?”

“Should have known you’d have a one track mind,” Peter huffed into the kiss. “Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I never wanted to make you feel like I wasn’t interested in you.”

Peter straddled Wade’s lap so they could cuddle more properly. His arms were around Wade’s back, holding him close like he always did then they were together. Holding him like something precious, like Peter was as surprised as Wade was that he could have something this tender.

“It’s okay. I did it to myself mostly. One track mind remember?”

“Are you um- are you okay with me being-?”

“Huh? Yeah of course I am. If you never want to have sex, also fine. I love you for more than how you look in spandex, Petey.” Wade pressed soft kisses along Peter’s shoulder to reassure him. He didn’t want to let this go, not when he thought it was going to be pulled out from under him just moments ago.

“I love you, too.” Peter whispered into Wade’s ear, his hands gripping his hoodie tighter.

It wasn’t exactly how Wade meant to tell him that, but with Peter whispering it back, not giving him a second to doubt himself, he was content with his slip up.

"You do look incredible in spandex, though." Wade grinned against Peter's neck.

Peter leaned into the touch, his voice taking on a more mischievous quality. "Oh I know, Wade. I know."

#arrawrites #spideypool #marvel #spfic #hurtcomfort #omg i wrote the fic that inspired this prompt back in 2017....#i feel ancient #scars #ace #asexual peter parker

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curly-bangtan · 5 years

Text

Blizzard (M)

Pairing: roommate!Jungkook x reader

Summary: When a blizzard hits your town, you and your shy awkward roommate are forced to spend time together, not being able to leave the house due to the strong snowstorm. To make matters worse, the power gets cut in the middle of his shower. Which also means no heating.

Genre: roommate au, domestic au, fluff, smut, strangers to lovers

Warnings: bit of a slow burner, vanilla!Jungkook, virgin!reader, dry humping, penetrative sex, fingering, oral (m receiving), losing virginity, shy soft boy Koo with a crush and a noona kink, your heart could possibly burst from how cute he is

Word Count: 15.5k oops

A/N: (This fic is written in parallel to Heatwave, with an opposing concept in mind. You don’t have to read Heatwave to read this, but it would be interesting and funny to see the differences in the two scenarios that both lead to roommates hooking up.) Also, happy birthday, bunny boy! Sorry this was a day late, I was honestly swarmed. I love you, koo. Writing this very much gave me a bias crisis but it was all worth it. Enjoy! :”)

PS. Think April 2019 Jungkook

‘A severe snowstorm is set to hit us this weekend with temperatures dropping down to -16˚C. It is therefore ill-advised for anyone to leave their houses during this period until the blizzard subsides as the fifth snow-induced traffic accident has been reported this week in our town…’

You have always marvelled at how the weather lady announces such things with such a passionate captivating tone.

‘The calculated probability of a city-wide power cut is currently at 72%, so please be well-equipped to stay indoors for the next two days.’

Oh shit. A power cut?

This is not good at all. Not like you have any plans for this weekend anyway, and you wouldn’t necessarily mind being stuck inside since you are good at entertaining yourself. But to possibly have no warm water, no internet in the duration of these few days?

You are currently snugly rolled up in the warmth of your blanket burrito, a mug of chamomile tea fitted in your hands, the steam of which evaporates under your chin into a slick coat. Friday evenings have never been eventful for you as long as Jimin doesn’t drag you out to some bar with him. As introverted as one can get, you much prefer staying in and watching TV or endlessly browsing the web.

The distinct rattling of keys spins your attention to the front door. Hearing the plunge of the metal into the keyhole is strangely satisfying to your ears. In steps a pink-nosed, frost-dusted Jungkook, all wrapped up in winter apparel thick enough to make him waddle clumsily.

A gust of cold flares inside from the harsh outdoors, stray flakes of snow flying in after him and landing on the rich oak tiles of the foyer. From the couch, you see his silhouette breathe out a visible grey huff. The door behind him falls shut, once again entrapping the warm temperature into the confines of these walls.

You watch your roommate, humming to himself with his black earpods hooked in his ears, as he unties the scarf around his neck. He probably hasn’t noticed your presence yet; he’s always been a little clueless afterall.

Then he looks up and meets your lingering gaze.

You both jump a little, his humming ceases instantly, eyes scrambling, darting away to your surroundings: the quiet television, the arching lamp, the white powdered window panes. Anywhere but at each other.

Clearing your throat, you greet him softly . ‘Hi.’ Your thumb rubs at the lip-shaped tea stain on the rim of your mug.

‘Um, hi. Good evening, noona.’ He dips his head at you, hood drooping lower over his head. You are two years his senior, and despite your supposed familiarity, he insists on formalities.

The weather lady has now been replaced with the anchorman, who is droning on about the car accident this morning. Awkwardness hangs in the air between you, as it always does every time you speak. It’s now your turn to say something, you’re painfully aware. But what do you say?

‘Snow storm.’ It is a statement more than anything. As if he hasn’t noticed… Nice one. You immediately want to hide your face in the mint furry throw you’re wrapped in.

‘Yeah. Snow storm.’ The rubbery sound of the careless removal of his shoes against the floor is louder than his response. ‘Jimin didn’t make it.’

Your blood freezes. ‘Wait what?! Oh my god! What happened to him?’ It takes the blanket sliding off you for you to realise that you’ve stood up abruptly. Your body is immediately flushed with a breeze of cold, devoid of insulation.

The car accident… It can’t be…

Jungkook’s attention flickers to the glaring screen as he paces towards you and realises how he must’ve sounded. ‘Woah, sorry, I worded it badly. I mean, Jimin’s stuck at Taehyung’s because the snow is too thick for him to drive back. And the service on his phone is whack, so he can’t reach you. Taehyung told me. Sorry, I didn’t mean he didn’t make it.’ Nervous chuckle. Scratching the back of his head.

Never has he said this many words to you in one go, this must be a record. That, as well as your own silly misunderstanding of his words, makes you release a humoured breath. ‘Oh right… Haha… I’m stupid.’

‘No. my bad.’

Wow. If you two keep this up, this might just be your longest running conversation in the history of living together.

Because he’s looking at the floor rather than you, you feel the liberation to look directly at his face. His round nose is red from the freezing temperature, his teeth gnawing at his chapped lips. You follow his gaze travel across the dark wooden panels, reaching a halt at your feet.

‘You’ve got a hole in your sock, noona.’ He states.

Indeed you do. Under his wide-eyed glare, you can’t help but curl your toes inwards as if it would hide your pinkie jutting out of the fabric. The way he addresses you, how his lips form a pouted ring when he pronounces the “oo”, makes you particularly self conscious. ‘Oh… Yeah, I know, it’s fine. It’s my only pair of fuzzy socks.’ These socks have sheltered your feet for three winters only to betray you now, during a bloody blizzard. The icy floor licks at your exposed skin tauntingly.

Silence draws taut between you. Like you’re tied to opposite ends of a string and are both trying desperately to escape, to walk away from each other.

It’s his move now… Why isn’t he saying something? But at the same time, what can he possibly respond to ‘It’s my only pair of fuzzy socks.’?

‘Right… See you.’ Jungkook nods politely and heads for his room. And you know you probably won’t see him reemerge until tomorrow; it’s practically his batcave in there.

A shudder courses through your body. Though it’s not from the cold but rather the embarrassment of that encounter. Quickly switching off the TV, you hide back in the comforts of your blanket like a Halloween ghost and scurry into your own room to avoid seeing him again.

Jeon Jungkook.

Even the thought of his name makes you crease inward involuntarily like it’s some bad memory. Despite having lived under the same roof for more or less six months, neither of you have warmed to the other in the slightest. It’s not that you have anything against him; you’re sure he must be a lovely boy, but…

Well, when you put two shy individuals next to each other, you can’t really expect them to bond over their bashfulness. No, they both tend to retract into their shells.

How you came about living together is three simple syllables: Park Jimin. If it wasn’t for this one common thread you share, your worlds would never have collided.

Ever the caring friend, it goes without saying that Jimin would rent out his vacant room in his three-bedroom house to you without even a second of hesitation after Hoseok ditches the boys to move in with his girlfriend. You’ve met all his friends before. Jimin is a social butterfly afterall, how could he resist forcing all his best mates into a confined space and make them talk to each other, or more commonly known as a party?

Namjoon and you get along just fine, seeing as you both are whores for literature. Seokjin? As long as you compliment his cooking and force a giggle at his jokes, he’ll accept your friendship. Surprisingly, Yoongi took a liking to you; you guess is due to your mild mellow nature which must clear his headaches caused by this chaotic bunch. Unsurprisingly, Hoseok took a liking to you, well, because he’s Hoseok and incapable of negativity. Much to Jimin’s jealousy, you have a soft spot for Taehyung, his mysterious charm and boyish charisma; your friendship was almost instant.

But then Jungkook…

Your introduction was a blur of awkward hellos and unmet eyes. Every time you spoke to each other, it’s a nervous stutter from him or unwarranted silence from you. Worse, if the two of you happened to bump into each other in public, neither of you knew whether or not to say hi and commence a conversation like normal acquainted people, so it always ended up being an uncomfortably long pause before nodding out of courtesy then parting ways. It’s not like you belong to the same friendship group and see each other every week or anything.

Jungkook’s playful childisness shines brightly when surrounded by the boys, witch-cackle laugh and all. However, for some reason unbeknownst to anyone, this goofy side to him is immediately switched off in your presence, as if you’re the rain that extinguishes the flame of his candle. His body stiffens, eyes widen, voice stammers. Which only leads you to mirror his behaviour.

‘He’s just really uncomfortable around girls.’ Jimin has tried to offer the only plausible explanation. ‘Poor kid went to an all boys’ school his whole life, has only ever had one girlfriend who dumped him on their one year anniversary. Your femaleness scares him.’

That would be kind of cute, you guess, if you weren’t also a socially-uncomfortable hermit who requires soft gentle prodding in order to befriend. Because then you become two logs sitting beside each other, neither willing to inch towards the other.

Forgive Jimin’s mistake of thinking that sharing a roof would change this. Because how wrong was he… If anything, it only led to increased timidity around each other.

When you first moved in, Jungkook was eager to help you carry and unpack everything, seeing as he is the most physically apt person in the house. So you thought that it was his first step towards you, and that your dynamic was finally making progress into becoming one that’s more comfortable. He even lingered around your room the first few days with Jimin to help you open all your cardboard boxes.

However, he has since struggled to utter more than five words to you. Which has continued forth until this day. In the morning rush to class, you never encounter him due to your proneness to punctuality and his to tardiness. If you ever do, it’s only ever just a quick good morning, noona without looking up from his cereal. You both enjoy the safety of your own rooms, hence rarely peak your head out unless it’s for food. Jimin is always the one to drag you out by the foot, even if its just to his room or the sofa to watch a film with him. You say drag, but really you just enjoy seeing Jimin all pouty and whiny and sucking up to you in order to earn precious quality time with you; you actually enjoy being around Jimin. It’s worse for Jungkook though because he has his own ensuite bathroom, orders Deliveroo instead of coming out to eat with you two, and only ever joins social gatherings that you’re also involved in if a high enough bribe is offered.

Hence the time you and Jungkook are exposed to each other gradually diminished over time despite being roommates. At first you only suspected, but now you know for a fact, that he is purposely avoiding you like the plague.

It baffles you, if Jimin’s theory is true, how he could possibly be scared of you, regardless of his shyness towards the female specimen. Look at you, you’re this soft-mannered, quiet-spoken creature with a meek presence. You have more reason to be intimidated by his melon-sized biceps and aggressive shouts that echo from his room when he’s gaming at 2am.

So due to this mutually reciprocated mousiness, this awkward friendship-but-not-quite thing, has never been overcome in these months.

This is not a result of lack of trying, at least from your end. You do try to talk to him, exerting enough friendliness to burst your balloon of introversion. And you suppose he does make as much effort as he can as well. He once left you a note telling you to help yourself to the leftover pizza in the fridge. On your birthday, he gave you a card in which he drew cute little cartoon illustrations of you three housemates and wrote a short message.

Happy birthday, Y/N noona!

You are such a kind person, I hope we can speak more.

Jungkook :)

You thought the exclamation mark and smiley face were above and beyond for his standards. It made you smile for the rest of the day.

It’s 6:23pm and your growling stomach is exacerbated by the cold that has made itself at home in your bones. You’ve always been an early dinner person while Jimin and Jungkook are the opposite.

You’ve managed to get a hold of Jimin through Taehyung; your FaceTime call with him lasted a total of twelve minutes before the connection got too poor that it hung up on its own. Berating Jimin for leaving you alone with Jungkook, especially in this snow storm where everyone is basically on house arrest, all he did was laugh at your feign annoyance. You know it isn’t Jimin’s fault but you still like to blame him for all the awkward predicaments that are bound to happen.

After this chapter of the book you’re reading, you’ll go out to the kitchen and make some dinner, you decide.

Wait a second... Do you even have enough food in the pantry to last a whole weekend? Particularly since Jungkook can easily demolish three bowls of rice and a whole pound of meat, and still have room for dessert?

Looking out the window, you realise it’s snowing way too hard for you to feel confident to pop to the nearest grocery store without slipping and dying.

Shit! What are you going to eat these few days? Especially since the electricity can cut any minute?

Just then, you hear the echo of the front door shutting. Oh no… Jungkook did not just go out in this weather. He probably noticed the lack of food as well and decided to go for a shop. You know what he’s like, he’s a boy who’s really certain of his capabilities, over certain in fact. He probably does not see the hazard of leaving the house in such heavy snow, especially in the evening. Because nothing stands in the way between Jungkook and Food.

Do you go after him? Hell, if you do, you would probably get lost somewhere and slowly freeze to your inevitable death. You can barely navigate in perfect daylight.

Scrambling for your phone, you begin searching for his number. You’ve embarrassingly only called him once, and that was when you and Jimin got locked out of the house after a pub night.

No one is picking up.

In fact, when you check your screen, you don’t even have signal. The blizzard must be getting so bad that it’s refracting the radio waves. Which means it’s even worse for Jungkook to be out right now.

He’s such an idiot. Why did he think it’s okay to just take a walk to the supermarket right now in the middle of a snow storm? You’re such an idiot. Why were you too lazy to stock up on food during the day?

You pace around your room, phone clutched in your hand in case you miraculously get signal somehow. How on earth would you explain to Jimin that your roommate, his friend, whom he left in your care since you’re his senior, went out in a blizzard to buy food that you were supposed to have gotten this morning, and ended up dead from hypothermia?

Are you overreacting? Surely you’re overreacting. Everything is going to be fine! Deep breaths.

He’s going to come back any minute now and see you losing your mind over nothing. Right? Right.

Jungkook isn’t going to die. You’re being paranoid. Ridiculous. Overly anxious as usual.

But you can’t help yourself from pressing your face against your window to try to peek outside for a sign of him. The glass is ice cold against your skin, and it sends a blood-chilling shock through your veins. You can barely make out any shapes in the sea of greys and whites.

If you can’t even see out the window, how is he walking outside right now?

Screw it, you’re going to find him.

You’re a tornado getting dressed, whipping on your massive faux-fur lined puffer coat over two layers of fleece. A pair of gloves, double layer of socks, snow boots. Useless phone and hand warmers shoved in your pockets, you storm out of the house.

The cold that greets you burns up your nostrils and painfully invade your lungs. Snow is flying directly at your face, and you’re barely sheltered by your hood as you feel the icy flakes stab at your skin and melt away. Step by wary step, you steadily walk off your porch, careful not to slip. Your heart leaps out of your chest when your feet sink down at least 10 inches of snow, your squeal is muffled by the scarf you’re using as a ski mask.

It’s now been at least 10 minutes since he’s left. Jungkook is a fast walker, but in the snow, perhaps you could catch up with him.

The flickering lamp posts light up the night, but they may as well not be working because all you can see is white. Barely able to keep your eyes open, and batting away the heavy wind that’s threatening to blow you over, you trek in the direction of the local supermarket.

You don’t know how much time has passed when you realise that you don’t recognise the way anymore. Everything is a blur of snow. The cars, houses, street signs. All snow. Google maps is failing you; you’ve given up removing your gloves each time, your fingers instantly freezing at the exposure, to zoom in or rotate the navigation which keeps hopping from location to location.

You’re utterly and undeniably - lost.

Stopping dead in your tracks, you just plop down on your ass in defeat.

Where the hell are you? Where the hell is Jungkook?

Fear and frustration bubbles in your chest. It must have been half an hour now since you left the house. Surely he should be back, and surely he would’ve intercepted you on the way. That could either mean one of two possibilities: he got lost, slash, injured, slash, died on his way, or you have somehow strayed from the route to the store and he’s now frantically searching for you.

The lump in your throat festers into a ball of panic and despair. Looking around you, there’s absolutely no one. Just eerily-still buildings and snow-hidden cars. The only sound is the howl of the winter gust and your own uneven breathing.

You’re scared, and cold, and alone.

Why the hell did you think you could find him in this snow storm? You watch your warm visible exhale disperse in the icy air, the stinging of desperate tears piercing the back of your eyes. What are you supposed to do now?

And then it hits you. Perhaps you could trace your steps back since your feet have imprinted a trail in the snow. Looking behind you, you see that the downpour of snow has already began filling the footprints nearest to you. You’re praying that they haven’t already entirely covered your earlier steps closer to the house.

Gathering yourself together, you exert a lot of effort to stand up from the ground. Your butt is now wet, and a damp chill is seeping into your underwear. Determined, you follow your footsteps, which are growing fainter, back home.

You’re hoping you recognise the way now, that you’re not just convincing yourself that the street looks familiar.

Then an awful realisation hits you.

Both your hands are stuffed into your pockets, holding those hand-warming packets and your phone. But not your keys. You forgot your keys.

‘Fuck!’ Cursing is rare for you, but anyone would probably deem this situation as a very reasonable one to swear at.

Hot gushes of tears begin flooding down your face, painting streaks of cold that freeze over in a matter of seconds. How could you be this dumb? The snow is getting heavier right now. Checking the time on your phone, it’s 7 o’clock. The streetlights are dimming due to the weather, and the pitch dark night is starting to settle in around you.

You sink to a crouch.

This is it then, you guess. You’ve met your inexorable demise, rooted from your own stupidity. And Jungkook.

You can’t believe you’re going to die trying to find Jungkook in a goddamn snow storm.

The quiet sobs and sniffles that escape you are muted by the hood around your ears. A shiver overtakes your body as your muscles tremble as a last attempt to keep you alive. Your whole face is numb, teeth clattering, eyes clamped shut to stop the tears from freezing on your cheeks.

‘Noona?’

The voice is muffled but you recognise it instantly. Your eyes fly open to see a pair of shoes halted in front of you. You look up.

And there Jungkook is, eyes wide in shock, quivering lips parted in concern, carrying four plastic bags full of food and supplies. The streetlight situated directly behind him shines a halo around his head, painting a heavenly image of him. You’ve never been more glad to see anyone in your life.

Unable to contain yourself, you fling your ice-stiffened arms around his waist and bury your face in his coat-clad torso. Your knees give in and hit the ground. New tears spring from your eyes, but this time it’s tears of relief, tears of joy, tears of gratitude. A surge of his warmth washes over you, and all of a sudden, the cold cannot touch you.

‘W-What happened? Are you- Are you okay?’ Jungkook is rooted to the ground, he wants to wrap an arm around your small head or help you up but his hands are full with the groceries.

Gripping his sleeves, you tug yourself up to face him. You probably look like a mess, red eyes, nose and cheeks. But you don’t care. Jungkook is alive, you’re alive, and you’ve found each other. ‘Yeah, I’m fine, Jungkook. Everything is fine.’

‘You’re crying, noona.’ His ears are neatly tucked under his black knitted beanie.

‘Not anymore, I’m good now.’ Ferociously wiping the liquids profusely leaking out of your orifices, you give him the biggest grin your frozen cheek muscles would allow. ‘Let’s go home. Do you need help with the bags?’

‘No, don’t worry about them.’

Standing an inch apart, you walk side by side following his lead, assuming he knows the way. The material of your coats scrape at each other when either of you leans a bit too far towards the other.

‘What are you doing out here though?’ He asks quietly.

What are you doing out here? How do you give him an explanation that does not depict you as an idiot? Because once again, you’ve been stupid and dramatic and stressed over absolutely nothing. It’s twice in the same day now that you thought one of your roommates have died. When both of them turned out to be alive and well.

‘Um… Well, I thought it was dangerous for you to go outside alone in this weather, especially since it’s getting dark... I tried calling you but had no signal so, uh, I decided to... uh, come out to find you…’ Embarrassment begins to creep it’s way to your senses, it claws digging into your skin.

You peak at him in your peripheral vision to see him stiffen, eyes eerily focused on the snowy path in front. What is he thinking? Is he going to laugh at you? Think you’re dumb? Find you weird and obsessive?

‘Oh… Um.’ Clearing his throat, he glances at you and you quickly look away. Flustered. ‘You didn’t have to, I’m fine. I know this neighbourhood like the back of my hand, noona.’

‘Yeah, but you took so long. I got worried…’ You whisper the last bit.

An awkward pause is birthed. Your fists tighten around the hand warmers in your pockets.

‘I- I’m sorry for worrying you, noona.’ You hear his own fists tighten around the handle of bags as well, the plastic crinkling. ‘The supermarket around the corner was shut so I had to find another one that wasn’t. I made it just in time, though, right before this one closed as well. Then I also had to find a store that sells those so-’ He stops abruptly when he realises that he’s rambling.

‘Sells what?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’ Jungkook mumbles.

Another silence. The night has fallen, looking around, if it isn’t for the scarce light casted by the lamp posts, everything would be pitch dark. You’re so glad you’re not alone. Worse come to worse, you would’ve had to knock on these random houses and beg them to take you in for the night.

‘Wait,’ he says, ‘That doesn’t explain why you were crying.’

Well, crap. What are you supposed to say?

‘Uhh… Well, I got lost and my phone wasn’t working, so… I just kinda panicked.’ If your face wasn’t red from the cold and embarrassment from before, it definitely is now. You feel the blood pumping to your head, enough to make you sway a little.

‘Oh shit. I’m sorry, that was all my fault. I- I should’ve told you I was popping out in the first place. Ugh, noona, I’m sorry.’ You’ve never seen him display much emotion towards you, but currently, seeing him so alive with exasperation… It’s kind of endearing.

Screw earlier, this is the longest conversation the two of you have had, ever.

‘No, Jungkook, stop apologising. It wasn’t your fault at all!’

To be fair, you couldn’t have wandered that far if Jungkook found you on his way back from whatever shop he went to; you must’ve been close at least.

And so you two arrive safely to your house. Carefully wobbling up the porch slippery with slush, you stop in front of the door.

He looks at you expectantly. ‘Keys, noona?’ Of course, his hands are full.

Here you are, thinking you could’ve gotten away with not telling him you had moronically left your keys at home. ‘Um, I forgot to bring them with me.’ You utter, then add. ‘I was in a hurry.’

For a second, Jungkook looks like he’s about to tell you off for endangering yourself with such stupidity. But he just lets out a half-laugh half-sigh and bites down on his lip. ‘Mine are in my left, no, right back jean pocket.’

Right. He is asking you to get his keys from his back pocket.

His back pocket.

You freeze.

You’ve never so much as touched Jungkook, if you don’t count brushing shoulders. Hugging him back there was purely out of hysteria, which you retracted from the second you registered your action. Now, you’re going to grope his ass. This day just keeps getting you more familiar with him, doesn’t it?

Gulping, you suck up your cowardice and slide your hand into his back pocket, intentionally not looking at him while doing so. The firmness of his buttcheek fits snugly in your palm while your index finger hooks around his keyring. And what the hell, you strangely get the urge to squeeze it.

You yank your hand out of there before it can betray you and act on that impulse. Glimpsing up, you see that his cheeks are also crimson as he stares up at the ceiling a little too attentively.

After changing into some warm dry clothes and setting your snow-dampened ones on the radiator, you go out to the kitchen to see Jungkook cooking some ramen, which doesn’t come as a surprise as he practically lives off them. He’s dressed in sweatpants and a black hoodie; after cupping his ass through his back pocket, you can’t help but notice how round his rear is, especially in those bottoms.

God, what is wrong with you? You cannot seriously be checking Jungkook’s ass out.

This time his hood his down, and you appreciate how fluffy his hair is starting to grow. You can’t help but wonder what it sme-

Woah.

Why are you thinking so much about Jungkook?

Truth be told, that scare he gave you just now opened your eye as to how much you actually care about him. Despite never really saying much to each other, you guess you’ve grown a sort of fondness for him that you didn’t realise you have. It’s only natural; you have known each other for close to a year now, and half of which was spent under the same roof. Of course you would worry for his well being, you tell yourself.

The kitchen fan must be blocking his hearing because he doesn’t sense your approach, he’s singing softly to himself. He’s got a lovely voice, both your roommates do. But whereas Jimin sings loudly and proudly, Jungkook only does so in the shower or when he doesn’t think anybody is listening.

When he notices you finally, you’re peering over his shoulder. He jumps. You jump. The chopsticks he’s using to stir the noodles fly out of his hands, clattering on the counter.

‘Oh jeez, you scared me.’ He picks up the chopsticks.

‘Sorry.’ You squeak and take a step back when you realise your proximity.

‘Haha…’ He chuckles nervously, embarrassed. ‘Noona, you like jajangmyeon, right?’

Do you like jajangmyeon? You live and breathe jajangmyeon. You can’t go a week without jajangmyeon. You’ve had it for breakfast, lunch and dinner before all in one day. Those noodles in that sauce… Mmm…

‘Yeah, they’re my favourite.’ Is all you say though, you figure he probably doesn’t care for a whole speech about your love for them. Surely he knows at this point, there isn’t a single day in this house where the ramen cupboard is devoid of jajangmyeon.

‘Great, I’m making you some.’

Oh. Jungkook is cooking for you. A warmth creeps into your cheeks, and you’re not sure why.

‘You don’t have to, Jungkook. Just cook for yourself, I’ll make myself dinner after you.’ But then your stomach chooses now to bellow aloud like a bullfrog traitorously. You look at him, abashed.

A smile is playing at his lips, though he’s trying not to show it.

‘Go sit down, noona. It’ll be ready in a second.’ His eyes are fixed on the bubbling water, chopsticks hauling up the softening noodles to check their texture. Though you’ve never tasted his cooking, you don’t doubt ramen mastery, so you nod compliantly.

The bags of shopping are half unpacked on the dining table, so you decide to finish sorting them out. He’s bought gimbap, bread, cheese, some salad, mostly food that doesn’t require cooking; you can tell he has thought ahead for the potential blackout.

Then something else in the bag catches your eye.

‘Dinner’s ready.’ Jungkook carries two bowls of brown noodles, garnished with sausage and cucumber, just the way you like it.

He sets the bowls opposite each other on the end of the table that’s not packed with groceries. This feels extremely weird and domestic. Although you live together, you don’t remember the last time you’ve had a meal together on this table, just the two of you without Jimin. Yet now, you’re about to eat jajangmyeon that he cooked for you, right across each other. Extremely weird.

‘Thank you so much for cooking, Jungkook.’ You bow your head at him politely and take a seat opposite him.

‘You’re welcome, noona.’ He also mirrors your action. You can kind of understand why it must be so annoying to Jimin how you’re so formal to each other, it must sound so forced and awkward.

Which is what this meal is going to be. Forced and Awkward.

Jungkook waits for you to take the first bite before digging, which you have to do so without rolling your eyes back and moaning out loud in satisfaction. Jajangmyeon tastes so flipping good! Your one and only true love.

You’re too focused on slurping down the noodles that you don’t notice him smiling fondly at the rare sight of you so blatantly excited.

The meal goes by quietly, neither of you are talkers to begin with, much less while eating. Whether it’s because it’s your favourite dish, or because it’s a freezing cold winter day, or even maybe because it’s Jungkook’s own cooking, the food tastes especially scrumptious.

‘This is delicious.’ Your eyes are practically glowing at him; he shys away from the praise by sipping on his can of coke. Who drinks coke in this weather? A smile stretches your lips at the oddity of this boy’s taste.

Jungkook mumbles a thanks, avoiding your eye as usual. But the jajangmyeon has put you in a good mood, you’re feeling rather chatty actually. ‘Also, Jungkook, I saw you bought-’ You dig into one of the grocery bags and pull out what you spotted earlier.

‘Oh yeah.’ Jungkook stares at the two-pack of fluffy socks in your hand, wearing a slightly mortified expression. ‘Um… I thought... you could do with some new ones.’

Surprised, your whole body tenses. You had thought he bought them for himself after seeing you wear yours so comfortably. All thought flaps away from your mind like a flock of frightened birds, leaving an empty field. He- Why- What do you-

‘Oh.’ Clearing your throat, you murmur. ‘Wow, thank you so much.’ Unable to look at him for any longer, your eyes fall onto your noodles. Your hand holding the socks drop onto the table at the weight of his kindness. Then a realisation creeps up on you. ‘Wait… They don’t sell these socks in supermarkets…’

Glancing up, you find him fiddling with his fingers nervously. ‘Uh. I went to another shop that does.’

Knots upon knots begin to tie in your stomach. So that’s why he took so long out there, not only did he have to find another supermarket that was open, he also searched for a store that sells fuzzy socks. For you.

Why do you feel so warm everywhere?

When you fall into a silent trance of your own thinking, Jungkook gets worried. ‘Noona, do you not like them? Did I get the wrong ones?’

‘No, no, no!’ You frantically dispute, forcing yourself to look at him. ‘These are perfect! I’m just surprised… and touched. That’s all. Jungkook, you really didn’t have to.’ The fabric of the socks feel heavenly to touch, your thumb sinks into the clouds of its softness. Truly, this has taken you by surprise and you don’t know how to react.

‘It’s okay…’ Redness blooms across his cheeks like drops of watercolour.

First he cooks you your favourite meal, then he buys you fuzzy socks? Is this the same Jungkook you’ve been living with all these months?

‘No, here…’ You rip open the card of the packet and snap the plastic wire that holds the four socks together. ‘Take a pair, I only need one anyway.’

At you waving the socks in front of him, he leans back in refusal, shaking his head and muttering a string of no no no’s. You’re not at all a strong-willed person by any means, but you’re not backing down on this, not when he’s been so lovely to you all night. When he realises that you won’t take no for an answer, he sighs, scratching the back of his ears. ‘Okay, okay. You can have the mint ones.’

One pair is mint and the other is pink. You blink. He wants the pink ones?

When he realises what must be going through your head, he quickly says, ‘Mint is your favourite colour right?’

Mint is your favourite colour. Though how does he know? All your possessions are in a variety of pastels: baby blue, cotton candy pink, mint green and lilac purple. He couldn’t have possibly guessed…?

‘Yes, it is… But I seriously don’t mind if you want the mint ones, I’m not gonna make you take the pink ones.’

‘No, it’s fine. I don’t mind.’ Jungkook snatches the pink fluffy socks from you before you can argue and stuff them onto his lap.

Your heart does a little thing that you can’t describe.

The two of you finish your dinner in silence, mirroring each other with one hand gripping the socks ever so tightly and the other hand picking up the noodles with your chopsticks. Awkwardly, Jungkook take a glimpse at you. A tiny smear of sauce stains the corner of your mouth.

Does he tell you? It would make it awkward though, wouldn’t it? But then again, it would be worse for you to find out yourself when you look in the mirror and think that he didn’t tell you you have sauce on your face.

‘Sauce.’ He accidentally says before he could finish formulating what he’s going to say to you. Shit. What’s wrong with him? Why did he say it like that? In response to your confused expression, he gestures dumbly at the corner of his own mouth.

Instantly a blush flames across the apples of your cheeks. You are about to wipe it away with your sleeve when you realise a second too late that you’re wearing a white sweater.

Your hand dangles a centimetre from your face, wrist caught in Jungkook’s fingers as he notices the mistake in your action before you. His whole body is leaned over the table in order to reach you. Wide eyes locked on each other, neither of you dare to move at his sudden outburst of motion towards you.

‘Um.’ He peeps. ‘Careful, I’ll do it, noona.’

Before you can register, he lets go of your arm allowing it to fall onto your lap. When his index knuckle brushes against the end of your mouth, a wave of shock zaps down your spine. Your heart lurches down an abyss at how soft his skin feels on your sensitive lips. Then his touch is gone, leaving a warmth tingling in his wake.

As he looks around for something to wipe his finger on, pupils round like a puppy, your eyes refuse to leave him. Thank you sits at the tip of your tongue but your throat is too clogged to utter a sound. The clockworks are trying to turn in your brain but all you can focus on is Jungkook.

How is he this nice, kind, gentle boy? And how have you completely missed this about him? In fact, why have you been so demure with him when he’s… an angel?

Watching his tongue poke at the inside of his cheek, a much scarier thought dawns on you.

Do you have a crush on Jungkook?

White screen glaring at you, the words of your unfinished essay frowns at your lack of attention in disapproval. You can’t write about Jane Austen’s exploration of feminism when Jungkook has overtaken your capacity to concentrate on anything other than him.

The radiator by your desk acts as your foot rest, blazing the pleasant heat up your legs. Ever few seconds, your eyes would wander to those mint green fuzzy socks you’re wearing, so brand new that its fluff caresses your toes like a flower bed. Just the thought that he went out of his way to replace your old hole-ridden pair…

Stop.

Jane Austen. Focus.

But the phantom touch of his finger sweeping across the plump of your bottom lip is etched on your skin, the picture of his doe eyes staring at your mouth refusing to leave your memory.

What has happened to you? How have you just swung from two extremes: from hardly able to speak a word to him without stuttering, to daydreaming about his kindness towards you?

The cold is making you delirious. It has to be this godforsaken cold, because why else would you all of a sudden be so flustered from the thought of Jungkook?

You take a long hard sip of your coffee, and mark it as a new leaf. From now on, no more thinking about anyone else other than Jane Austen. Pushing up your sleeves, you straighten your slouching back and face the monster of you assignment head on.

Not 5 minutes later, your desk lamp begins to flicker. You throw it a quick glance as your fingers type on your keyboard. Weird, you just changed the bulb a few weeks ago. Nevermind it.

Then all of a sudden, all the lights in your room go out. Frowning, you get up and try the switch several times to no avail. Peaking outside your room, all that greets you is a cold darkness. So you turn on the flashlight on your phone and try other light switches of the house. Nothing. Even the heat begins to seep away from the heaters as they dim to a cool. Oh no, right now?

Using your phone as a torch, you pad towards Jungkook’s room and open his door before you can remember to knock. Perhaps your anxiety has overridden your common sense and courtesy. Unfamiliar with the orientation of his room, you trail your side against the wall to guide you.

‘Jungkook? I think the power’s ou-’

Your phone shines onto a tall silhouette, illuminating a view that makes you shriek and stumble back.

There he is, standing with a white towel around his waist, beads of water splattered across his naked body and dripping rapidly out his wet slicked back hair. The swell of his biceps catch your attention first, lined with prominent veins running all the way down to his large hands placed on his hips. Which leads your gaze to the illustrious v of his hips that arch down to-

Without meaning to, your eyes travel down to this bulge. His hefty unmissable bulge. The towel protrudes out like a tiny hill, and you want to scream at it.

If you had a drink in your mouth right now, you would surely spit it out all over him and choke to your death. But you don’t, so all that comes out of you is a strangled cat noise. Looking away from that sinful area as quickly as you can, you arrive at his face - shocked, alarmed and confused. Your cheeks burning in the flames of hell, you spin away hastily to sprint out of his room in horror.

Except you run into the wall.

The impact hits your forehead and thankfully not your nose. Phone flung onto the ground with the light facing up, you fall onto you knees clutching at the eruption of pain. But nothing hurts more than your pride and image.

‘Noona!’ One hand securing the towel covering his manhood and preserving his dignity, he scrambles over to help you despite himself.

You flinch away at his hand on your shoulder because he is now right beside you. And it’s as if you’ve zoomed in too far on a picture because his nakedness is suddenly magnified 100x. You want to Ctrl Z yourself out of his room and back into your own desk. Because what. the. hell.

What the hell? What the hell? What the hell?

Transfixed on the ridges of this abdomen, you cannot focus on anything other than the way his muscles groove up and down so smoothly to form a six pack. Shadows casted by the flashlight sculpting more definition onto his marble chest. Goosebumps are raised on his blemishless skin, which you almost want to stroke away with your warmth.

‘I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.’ You chant cataleptically in a daze. It’s more for your own reassurance than his. His bare upper body needs to let you breathe.

‘Are you sure?’ His concern is apparent in his expression, eyes examining your entire face for your injury.

‘Yes, yes.’ Desperately wanting to shoo him away, you wince at the pulsing ache burgeoning in your forehead.

‘I’m sorry.’ You both say in unison, though neither of you understand why the other is apologising.

Though he seems abashed about being shirtless, his humiliation comes nowhere near your level. Why isn’t he scrambling to put a shirt on?

To be fair Jungkook does seem awfully self conscious, you’ve caught him looking down at himself for about the fifteenth time now as he helps you up to your feet.

‘I’ll let you get dressed, sorry.’ Is all you say after snatching your phone off the ground, not even bothering to check for a cracked screen, before making your timely escape. This time more successful than the last.

Clutching your throbbing head, you race to your room and catapult onto your bed. The picture of a wet, shirtless Jungkook with only a towel to shield you from his crotch is now ingrained in your mind. You think shutting your eyes will help but you still see his divine abs behind your lids.

Holy shit.

What perhaps scares you more is how attracted you are to him. Since when did you find your roommate hot? This is shy, quiet Jungkook who plays overwatch until 4am. How dare he have a Greek God’s body to confuse you like this?

You need to stop thinking about his naked body right now.

Instead you check outside your window to see that the streetlights are off as well; it must be a blackout across the whole town, if not city. Without heating, the cold air begins to harshly sting your exposed skin. Panic starts to fester in your chest. How long can you last with no electricity whatsoever? You don’t even have phone signal, or something to charge your phone with except the one portable charger that may or may not be dead right now.

Though your door is wide open, Jungkook knocks on it politely outside your room. Which is what you should’ve done with him, you mentally scold yourself. Though he is now dressed in an oversized hoodie, your image of him is forever changed after seeing him fresh out the shower, hair still dripping. You blink hard in attempt to rid that thought.

‘Hi…’ He whispers. He’s holding two burning candles against his chest, their flames lighting up the underside of his sharp jaw.

‘Hi, come in.’

You can sense his hesitancy, the unease in the air between you, when he enters your room gingerly, feet clad in those pink fuzzy socks.

‘Sorry-’ You both say at the same time again, then release a breath of laughter. Mirth twinkles in his eyes, though his shyness does not stray from him.

‘I’m sorry for barging into your room like that.’ It’s an effort not to glance down at his adorable socks. ‘That was completely my fault, so don’t apologise.’

He swallows. ‘It’s okay, noona.’

His eyes hold yours for a solid moment before dispersing. A familiar blush is starting to paint your cheeks, you feel the heat from your chest blare up to your entire face. Unable to help imagining those solid muscles underneath his clothes, you tug at the hem of your sweater.

‘So,’ Jungkook places one of the candles on your desk. ‘This is for you.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Instead of using the flashlight of your phone, use the candle or one of the torches I’ve put on the table outside to save your battery. I’ve checked the main fuse, it isn’t switching back on. Good thing is that we still have running water and plumbing, just no heating or any electricity.’ He glances at your own socks. ‘We need to use the water sparingly though or the reservoir will run out. From the shops, I’ve bought some food that we can eat without cooking like gimbap or sandwiches. There’s also a stash of hand warmers in the drawer of the TV stand if you’re cold.’

That’s a lot of words to come out of Jungkook’s mouth in one go, all spoken to you. What he’s saying is sinking in and relief washes over you, yet you can’t help but focus your attention on the way his lips move as he speaks. The dark red gleaming with lip balm, curving over each syllable so prettily.

‘That’s great, thank you.’ You finally snap out of it. ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’ That last sentence slips out of you before you could stop it.

Pupils widening a fraction, Jungkook’s lips part in reaction. Why did you tell him that? Maybe you should just lock yourself in your room after continuously embarrassing yourself tonight. But then he pulls into a smile that melts away the ice that’s numbing your limbs and burning your lungs. The front of his teeth slightly jutting out sweetly.

Again, a fondness tickles your chest.

‘Me too.’ The tingle spreads into a pulse that crushes your throat. Is that why they call it a crush?

You simply cannot suppress your own growing grin.

Jungkook begins to walk away, but then stops at your door and turns back. There’s a reluctance, an uncertainty to his slow movement as he faces you.

‘If… If you get too cold without the radiator… you can…’ His voice barely a husk. ‘You can come over to mine.’

Then he’s gone. The aura lit up by his candle gradually diminishes away from you as he walks down the hallway to his room.

Frozen in place, you’re not even sure if your heart is beating anymore. Those final words ring in your ear like wind chimes.

You can come over to mine.

Does he mean what you think he means? Is he offering to keep you warm during the night?

You watch the candle he’d placed on your desk, its flame mirroring the small fire kindling in your core for the boy who went out during a blizzard to buy you fuzzy socks so your feet don’t get cold.

On the other side of the wall, Jungkook is on the verge of combustion at his bold proposition to you, red burning the tips of his ears. Though the memory of the look of pure euphoria on your face when you took your first bite of jajangmyeon burns his heart hotter yet.

The cold is brutal and shows no mercy. Despite your tossing and turning and effort to warm yourself up, sleep does not grace you. Part of the blame goes to Jungkook, you have not been able to cease thinking about him and everything he has done tonight. It makes you reflect on all your past moments together, whether he has always been like this and you were only too closed off to pay heed.

Sitting up from your bed, you decide you won’t be able to fall asleep without extra warmth. You need hand warmers stuffed down your pyjamas.

So, muscles stiff from the cold, you clamber out the little warm burrow of your covers and head for the living room, forsaking any light since your vision has adapted to the dark. On your way there, you walk past Jungkook’s room. Without knowing why, your legs betray you and stop outside his door.

You can come over to mine.

The low rasp of his voice still echoes in your head, stirring your unwarranted feelings for him into a warm pot of honey.

Had he really meant it? Did he honestly invite you to his share his bed? Surely not - this is Jeon Jungkook you’re thinking of, he doesn’t even speak to you most days, can’t not cower away from your glare. And he also knows what you’re like, how it took you two whole months to even warm to all of Jimin’s friends, how you only recently stopped using honorifics with those older than you.

And surely he must be at least mildly aware of the lack of boys and romance in your life, living just down the hall from you. Jimin is the closest male friend you have, and even so, you aren’t completely comfortable with sleeping beside him.

But then… All that has transpired about Jungkook’s character tonight, how sweet and kind and thoughtful he is which completely falls outside your predictions of the boy…

You realise you want to know more, want to explore the depths and mysteries that is your strange roommate. This intangible force that has been building up in the mere hours you’ve spent together this cold winter’s night draws you to him.

So screw those hand warmers, they last way too short anyway. Who needs those fidgety packets when there’s a whole Jeon Jungkook next door?

Gathering all the courage you can muster, you knock on his door.

The wood sends tendrils of cold into your knuckles. There’s a pause at first which leaves you thinking that he’s asleep, and to be fair, this late at night he has every reason to be. You’re about to turn away and head forth down the hall when you hear sheets moving, followed by his muffled come in.

Timidly, you step into his room, mind still fresh with the memory of what had happened last time you entered here unannounced, mere hours ago. Let’s not think about that right now, shall we?

Jungkook is sat up in his bed, black hood engulfing half his head. A single scented candle lit on his bedside table beside him illuminates the whole room into a golden ochre hue, it smells of freshly washed sheets.

‘Hi…’ You peep out, stopping in front of his bed.

‘Everything ok, noona?’ His eyes are fixed on your face in wonder, but when you meet them, they dart to your socks.

‘Um, yes.’ How do you put this? How do you formulate those words? ‘I just… It’s absolutely freezing with the radiators not working. Maybe- D-’ You exhale shakily. He’s gaze slowly crawls back up to your face as he realises where you’re going with this. ‘You know how you suggested that we should… sleep tog- on the same bed… to keep each other warm…? Well...’

Jungkook blinks at you. For a heartbeat, all you want to do is curl up into a ball and roll out of here. You couldn’t even finish what you were saying because your jaw has simply refused to move, refused to let you carry on embarrass yourself.

Then, although he was already on one side of the bed, he scooches over to the left. He doesn’t look at you when he replies, ‘Of course.’

Your heart is pumping fast, almost making you choke on your constricting throat. Warily you clamber onto his bed, but stop when only your knee is on the mattress. The bed frame creaks. Jungkook is regarding you with an unreadable expression, nibbling on his bottom lip. ‘Wait, if this is weird, just tell me to go.’

‘N-No. It’s fine.’ Pulling the covers over his chest, he crosses his arms shyly. There’s a pink tint to his cheeks, though you could be mistaken due to the odd lighting. ‘I was struggling to fall asleep from the cold as well.’ He adds when you don’t seem convinced.

Both of you are making this a bigger deal than it actually is, you are fully aware. It honestly pains you how awkward you two are with each other; if this were Jimin, he’d be dragging you onto his bed by the waist, letting you flounder about in his arms like a cat trying to escape before smothering you with his affection. But this is Jungkook. Quiet, shy, awkward Jungkook. Jungkook who hasn’t spoken more than ten words a day to you before the events of tonight even though you live together. Jungkook who you’re slowly learning more and more about during this blizzard.

Plus, he was the one who offered to share his bed earlier in the first place. This is fine, just fine. Act normal.

Overly conscious of how he’s watching your every movement carefully, you slowly burrow into the comfort of his bed. Immediately you’re enveloped in his residual body heat under the duvet. Now you realise that he moved over to the other side of the bed, the cold side, so you can relish in the warmth that he’s been collecting under these covers.

Why is Jungkook so… considerate?

Again, the same fuzzy feeling as before tugs at your heartstrings. Suddenly you want to reach out to him, but instead, you tug at your sleeves.

You’re both staring at the blank ceiling as if it is some fascinating art piece, with enough space between you to fit a Jimin. The candle has casted long grey shadows across the room, occasionally flickering haphazardly.

Everything that is currently whizzing through your head is driving you insane. This is actually happening. You are sharing a bed with Jungkook, the guy who you can’t even look in the eye when speaking to, your roommate who has only ever tried to avoid you. This day is a jack-in-the-box of Jungkook-themed surprises. What’s going to be next?

‘Feeling warmer, noona?’ He breaks the silence first, and you can’t help but glance over at him. His side profile is mostly masked by his hood, yet you can still see his jaw clenching. You can only imagine how uneasy he is currently feeling.

‘Yes.’ It’s barely a whisper you manage, so you clear your throat. ‘Much better Jungkook, thank you.’

Another silence. Though this is an improvement from before, you still feel a chill in your bones; the cold is a resilient pest that aches your muscles and numbs your face.

‘Should I blow out the candle then?’ You ask.

‘Oh right, yeah.’

You huff at the small flame but it refuses to go out, and you kind of don’t want it to as it provides a strong beacon of heat as its smoke licks at your face. You huff again. Still, it only wavers. You’re so cold that you don’t even have the strength to take out a candle. Peaking over at Jungkook, his eyes are locked on you patiently.

‘I’ll do it.’ He leans across the bed over you, you feel his warmth radiate into your proximity as his should hovers over your face. His scent, a clean soft musk, swims up your nose; you never noticed how pleasant he smells. The veins on his neck are protruding as he strains to reach over. When he extinguishes the candle with a single harsh blow, embarrassment rains on you.

Darkness enshrouds you two. As he returns to his position, you notice that he’s closer to you than before, now only less than a foot away. The sound of his breathing provides a steady rhythm that soothes your wild thoughts.

Though your social skills are subpar by nature, Jungkook has a way of magnifying your awkwardness. Should you say something? Good night? Thank him again?

Then you realise, he’s shivering. Of course, his hair must still be wet from his unfinished shower that was cut short by the blackout. God, he must be freezing.

‘You’re cold.’ You state, though you mean it more as a question.

‘I’m fine.’ Hums his response, yet his inhale is shaky.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you know what you’re going to do next is completely out of character and will require more guts than you actually possess. Your hand gropes at the space between you until you find his hand. It’s ice cold. Jungkook jumps at the contact and you hear him turn his head towards you. You hope his sight hasn’t adjusted to the dark yet so he can’t see how abashed you are.

‘You’re not fine.’ His fingers are stiff when you interlock yours between his. Everything is screaming inside you. What are you doing? What the heck? If Jimin were here to see this his jaw would drop all the way down to hell.

Unable to suppress the urge either, you also turn to look at him. In the dark, you can barely make out the outline of his face, the shape of his glossy eyes reflecting the moonlight seeping in through the window. Slowly, his fingers curl up around your hand. Your heart flips.

Blood roaring in your ears, you inch towards him like a frightened deer until your sides are pressed against each other. Your faces must be a hand’s width apart, but the darkness fuels you with a brazenness that allows you to not cringe away. His whole body tenses in response.

‘Better?’ Voice so soft he strains to hear you.

Jungkook nods, eyes never leaving yours. ‘Better.’ His response rumbles into your ear and percolate into your mind, and only now are you aware of how close he is.

An amalgamation of unidentifiable emotions stir inside you. You feel your own warmth trickle towards him as his does with you, and slowly his presence plucks away the cold you are plagued with.

‘Good night, Jungkook.’

‘Good night, Y/N noona.’

Though it’s only briefest of movements, you feel his thumb stroke over yours once, twice, as your eyelids fall shut.

The next morning, you wake up first with your head fitted cosily on his heavily breathing chest, his arm draped across your shoulder, shielding you from the chilly morning air.

The power still isn’t back on.

It’s now nearing 24 hours since the blackout first hit.

You’ve wasted the day wandering about the house, unsure of what to do with yourself. Though you tell yourself it’s the withdrawal symptoms from the internet, it’s mostly due to the fact that you slept next to Jungkook last night.

The earlier half of the day was spent subtly avoiding him because what the hell are you supposed to say to him? Do you just carry on your usual selves around each other or are you, like, friends now? You caught yourself watching him sleep this morning, serene breaths in and out through his nose. There’s a tiny mole under his lips that you’ve never noticed before. You had poked it with your pinky before you could stop yourself. And thankfully he’s a heavy sleeper, he didn’t even stir.

With more effort than you thought would require, you pried yourself out of his arms, a cold breeze instantly welcoming you in an embrace as you left his bed.

Those scenes keep replaying in your head: him finding you out in the blizzard, watching him cook you jajangmyeon, discovering that he when out of his way to buy you new sock, then walking in on him almost stark naked from the shower, and finally, falling asleep enveloped in his warm and scent.

You’re definitely crushing on him.

You’ve stopped denying it when you saw him meander wearily out his room at noon, bed head ruffled, eyes still droopy from sleep. Wordlessly, you had passed him the ham and cheese sandwich you prepared for yourself and you don’t even know why because you were absolutely starving.

The downpour of snow only stopped for a good 10 minutes this afternoon, a tiny window in which you poked your head out for some fresh air. Jungkook had tried to shovel away some snow to clear the porch, but quickly ran back inside when he saw your worried face plastered to the window watching him.

There isn’t much either of you can do with no electricity, no internet, no television, trapped indoors. So you occupy your day curled up on the couch, nose buried in a novel, completely immersed in that beautifully crafted fictional world.

Until Jungkook walks out in a white t-shirt and shorts.

Your eyebrow raises, peeking at him from behind the pages.

‘I’m gonna work out here, if you don’t mind. There isn’t enough space in my room.’ He scratches the back of his head.

‘Sure.’ You exhale, knowing your demise is looming over your head like a storm cloud. A lot of self control is exercised in order to not ogle at his calves.

Training your eyes at the novel in front of you with great determination, you turn the page. The first minute is easy enough, you just have to angle your book to block your view of him. But then his breathing grows heavier, panting every rep. At that, you can’t help but glimpse past the corner of your page.

Oh Lord. He’s doing push ups.

Though his biceps are mostly covered by his sleeves, the muscles of his forearms tensing at every contraction catch you eye. You marvel at the way his tendons flex out, and the way his serpentine of veins snake down his hands.

Jeez.

Then he lets out an unholy grunt, setting your whole skin on aflame. Scarlet stains your cheeks, you’re sure of it. But the sinful sounds do not stop. Sweat his now seeping through his shirt, rendering the material transparent down his back. And his ass…

You snap your focus back to your novel.

Just in time as well because he stops onto his knees, head falling back as he sits on his ankles, panting. His neck is shimmering with his perspiration, droplets trickling down like a brook.

Jungkook glances over at you to see you reading intently, jaw clenched from what he guesses is due to the excitement of the plot.

But then you stand up so abruptly that it startles him. You can’t sit here and spy on his workout any longer, you physically cannot take it. Not to mention, it makes you feel so awful, like you’re perving on the poor clueless boy who only wants to break a sweat.

The both of you just stare at each other, flustered for different reasons. His breathing slows.

‘I’m gonna-’ You don’t know where you’re going with the sentence. Gulp. ‘Uh, see you later.’

Scampering away into your room, you don’t wait for his response. Why are you panting heavier than he is when he’s the one exercising? Your book is pressed tightly against your pounding chest as you lean your back on your door. Your legs give way and you slowly slide down onto the cool floor.

There’s one thing you know for sure.

Jeon Jungkook is not good for your heart.

It’s almost midnight and Jungkook is standing outside your door. Fist clenched, inches away from rapping on the wood, but completely frozen in action.

Just do it, idiot. He scolds himself.

After an ice cold post-workout shower, this time early enough so he doesn’t have to sleep with wet hair, you both had gimbap for dinner. It was an excruciatingly silent meal which he blames himself for, though he can’t help the way his tongue gets tied every time he wishes to speak to you.

And now, bed time, he is at a dilemma of whether or not to ask to sleep with you again. It may come across as too forward coming from a guy, he doesn’t want to scare you. But he also knows that he will be missing the warmth of your body beside him if he goes to bed alone.

Jungkook sighs and lets his hanging hand fall to his side.

If you wanted to, you would have gone to his room anyway. Might as well save the awkward rejection and just take this as a no.

However, your door suddenly swings open. He’s confronted with a pyjama-wearing, baby-faced you, flinching back a step at the surprising sight of him.

‘Op- I was just....’ His sentence falls flat. He was just what?

‘I was just coming to find you.’ You mutter, eyes softening if he isn’t mistaken. A flood of relief rushes at him, so you were planning on coming to him tonight.

Wordlessly, you pad after him to his room. Everything is dark but you see his figure clearly in front of you. It gives you a false sense of confidence which leads you to trip over his charger wire you so clumsily missed.

You don’t know how he reacts so quickly to your yelp of distress, but he turns around in time to catch your outstretched arms by the elbows. ‘Watch out.’ Feet fumbling over each other, he stumbles back onto his bed as you fall onto him. The weight of your bodies sink down onto the mattress.

Hard muscle cushions your fall. Chests pressed against each other, you don’t realise your hands have instinctively circled around his shoulders for balance. Your nose is touching his fabric of his collar, his musk instantly overriding your senses. When you look up, his eyes are a crystal clear pool somehow reflecting the constellations of the night sky in this darkness. His breath caresses your forehead. Your gaze drops to his mouth, pink and parted.

You want to kiss him, you realise. So badly. Every fibre of your being is currently yearning to meet his lips, longing to know whether he tastes better than he smells.

But then your limbs are moving for you, propping yourself up and off him. Your own mouth forms and quiet ‘sorry’ as you shuffle under the sheets. It’s as if you’re watching your own actions through your eyes, controlled by your logic rather than desire. You couldn’t let yourself kiss him.

Jungkook silently squirms into his bed beside you, unwilling to look your direction as much as you’re averse to his.

So this is how it’s going to be again. Two sleeping logs next to each other.

There’s an ache of regret in your heart for being so timid. Annoyance at yourself drips down your throat, fist clenching at the sheets. You should’ve kissed him right then and there, consequences be damned. When will you get another chance? But perhaps it was fate. You have no idea how he would’ve reacted; the pessimist in you thinks he would’ve been disgusted. Yes, it was fate. It was right not to have kissed him.

Wait, no. A boldness suddenly pours down on you. Shyness and introversion has gotten you nowhere before, and it will not help your situation now.

‘Jungkook.’ Your voice comes out crisp and clear.

‘Hm, Noona?’

‘I’m still cold.’ Turning to face him, you see innocent confusion settle in his expression. The sound of your thumping pulse has reached your ears, your heart is a speeding motor flying off to find him. ‘Come closer.’

The shadow of his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. His focus does not stray from you as he slides across the bed hesitantly.

‘Closer.’

He edges further towards you. You can now just about make out the shape of the scar that flecks his left cheek.

‘Closer.’

This time, his exhale tickles your neck. Warm bodies touching, confusion and perturbation cloud his glassy orbs as he scans your face for an answer to the plethora of questions swimming in his head.

‘Thank you.’ You breathe, though it feels like no air is entering you. You can’t believe what you’re doing. This close to him, you’re entire being bathes in his presence, his aura; a familiar tingling ails your soul as your eyes flicker to his lips.

Every single muscle in Jungkook is frozen in shock, unsure of what is going on and why the sudden change in your demeanour towards him. And when you turn onto your side away from him and inch by inch back your body onto his front, his heart

stops

beating.

Nose buried in your floral-scented hair, vacillating thoughts tell him to put his arm around your waist and hold you close to him. You sense his unsureness in the way his hand rests on your side and pauses for too long before pulling you into his chest.

His frame engulf yours, the curve of your back lining perfectly with his. You feel safe, protected. His furnace touch on your waist burns through the thick fabric of your jumper and seeps into your core. The effect he has on you is nothing you’ve ever experienced before, and neither have you ever been in this position with anyone. Although it isn’t much, merely just cuddling, this feels so remarkably intimate and intense, like you’ve finally stepped through a threshold built into the emotional wall that towers between you and him.

You’re not entirely sure if you’re breathing.

Despite being the one to instigate this, you’re awfully apprehensive, not daring to even twitch incase it rattles him and sets him scrambling away. The two of you are like a pair of squirrels, slowly approaching to sniff each other, curious yet easily frightened.

His hot breath rushes down your spine like smoke. You desperately want to know what he’s thinking. Is he as nervous as you? Do you feel comfortable to him as he does to you? Or is he already falling asleep?

You should close your eyes and try to. Though who are you kidding? You’d never manage to catch a wink when you’re an accidental turn of a face away from kissing him, at least not right away anyway, not until you calm yourself down with a mental meditation exercise or something.

The urge to check if he’s indeed asleep is yanking at you, but you use all your willpower to resist, not wanting to risk rousing him when he’s as skittish as you.

But then you feel it.

Him.

It’s subtle at first, just a gentle pressure at your bottom.

Innocent and untainted as you are, you don’t even realise what it is at first, so you shift your hips unconsciously.

Then it’s stiffness grows, and grows, until it’s a baton poking at your rear.

Something in your core ignites, your chest constricts, and a wildfire of lust you’ve never felt before smoulders from your scalp to your toes before finally rooting itself in your sex. Ten hells, Jungkook’s boner is touching your ass. Jungkook has a boner and it’s touching your ass. Jungkook has a boner because of you and it’s touching your ass.

Your brain is devoid of all senses except a formidable hunger for him. Suddenly, though he’s almost surrounding you completely, the only thing you can feel is his hard member prodding you.

Is he asleep or not, you need to know.

Then a strange force possesses your lower half, and like a puppet on a string, your ass sinks back further onto him until his length is tunnelled between your cheeks.

The softest moan escapes him, almost a gasp even.

You think he’s going to say something, move away or stand up and leave. Instead he pulls himself away and slowly thrusts forward again. His clothed length slides smoothly up your crack, brushing ever so slightly over your slit. It sends a wave of arousal convulsing up your core, so powerful you almost choke.

Continuing to encourage him, your hips move in tandem with his, rubbing your ass all over his pulsing erection, occasionally letting it slide between your thighs against your clit. A pleasured mewl escapes, though you’re not sure who from. You’ve never felt anything like this, the ruin that overtakes your core at the friction. This is a divine sensation, luxury of the gods.

Jungkook’s fingers dig into your waist as his pace increases, his breathing slowly shifting into wavering panting. Finally you succumb to the urge to twist around to look at him. Your heart erupts at the pure devastation contorting his face. His brows angled in pleasure, teeth clamped down on his lip to suppress those unholy noises, lids hanging heavy at the weight of his thirst for you. When his eyes lock on yours, something unleashes in him and devours you wholly.

Fire and ice. His lips feel like both fire and ice. Fire because your entire mind is burning at his smoothness, fuelled by your unkempt want for him to take over you. Ice because everything that isn’t him feels numb and insignificant, and your feelings for this man holding you is the purest flake of snow.

Your first kiss, and it’s already the best kiss you’ll ever have, you’re sure. Because the way his lips meld onto your, the desperation in the way he leans so far into you, the heat of his arousal forging it’s mark between your legs. Nothing in this world can top that.

‘Noona.’ He sighs into you. It drives you absolutely insane.

Fingers grappling in his wavy locks, you reposition yourself completely to face him. His length twitches against you as your leg swings behind him to pull him closer. He is holding your neck with a heartbreaking delicacy, thumb stroking your jaw like it’s the most fragile of chinas.

‘Jung-’ You whimper. ‘Koo…’

Tasting of mint, his tongue gently laps at yours when you open for him. You’re drowning in his essence, lungs filling with his air, though you welcome your sweet painless death like it’s a heavenly gift.

Knowing his docile nature, you move his hand underneath your top, giving him permission to roam freely on your skin. He snakes around your back and circles around your front before finally meeting your sore breasts. As he kneads them tenderly, you feel a warmth ooze out of you into a puddle of concupiscence in your pants.

Oh God.

Your own hands wander beneath his hoodie, raking up the bumps of his god-sculpted abdomen and taking hold of his muscular chest. His wet kisses are a drug, and you’re completely and utterly under its control.

‘Jungkook, I want you.’ You moan.

When his eyes fly open, you’re met with pools of desire, seething into you like jets of lust. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d experience him like this, covetous for you and withering under your touch.

‘Noona… Fuck.’ He trembles as your hand travels down his navel, daring to slide under the band of his sweatpants. ‘I want you so bad, noona.’

The whimper that leaves his mouth when you palm him through his boxers sends a flood of yearning down to your core.

Holy shit.

He feels…

Massive.

Heavy with girth, only about half of his length fits in your palm. You have to stretch your fingers in order to fully encompass him. He is fully at your disposal, groaning, grip tightening on you.

As he huffs into the edge of your jaw, his own hand comes down to find your pussy pulsing for his touch. When his touches your clothed slit, a compulsion forces your hips to buckle forwards. And when he begins to rub circles right on that tender spot, waves upon waves of ecstasy hit you.

Whining like an animal, your head falls back at the newfound pleasure he’s showing you. With you neck presented so openly to him like a platter of dessert, he plants dulcet kisses onto you, his gentleness kindling your fire for him. Despite your attempt to wind your focus back to him, your grip on his erection slackens at his vibrations on your cunt.

‘Can I?’ Jungkook whispers into your ear, softness tickling your lobe. You don’t waste a second before nodding eagerly.

Then his fingers slide underneath your panties. Sensitivity explodes at the contact between the pad of his thumb and your clit. A string of moans release from you. His fingers stroke tactfully up your slick, lubricated by your wetness for him. And when he slides his digit into you, the thread that holds your soul to sanity snaps.

‘Oh my god.’ He pushes through the sleek pressure of your walls. ‘Jungkook.’ The whimper of his name rolling off your tongue sends a rush of blood down to his aching cock.

‘Noona, is that okay?’ The genuity in his voice squeezes your heart.

‘Yes, it feels so, argh, good.’

He latches his lips onto your neck and sucks clouds of lavender to your smooth seamless sky. His finger is slowly pumping in and out. It is a foreign feeling, so strange and unfamiliar, yet all the more exciting. The rise of his knuckles hit your wall at eye-rolling angles. Your hips roll in his rhythm to help him reach newer depths. The pleasure is unforgiving, relentless.

Another feeling gnaws at your chest, a longing to please him.

‘I want to make you feel good, Jungkook.’ You mumble, shy.

He looks up at you, finger gradually ceasing its movement. The pure passion alit in his eyes drives you thrumming for him.

‘O-Okay.’

‘You… You have to teach me though.’ Redness flushes your cheeks.

‘Okay.’ He says again, and you wonder if you’ve broken him at the way he’s frozen.

Sheepishly tugging down his pants, you inch yourself down and settle between his legs, the duvet rested upon your shoulders. He bobs free from the restraint of his apparel.

Your eyes bulge at his cock that is, despite the darkness, standing tall and proud, beaming at you. How is that monster going to fit inside you?

A strong vein runs down the course of his length. Angry red tip swollen and trickling with a clear liquid. You look up to find him staring helplessly down at you, gulping. A nervous fear is eating away at your throat; you’ve never done this before, how are you supposed to know how right now?

‘Teach me.’ Your fingers come around the base of his shaft and he gasps audibly.

‘Uh-’ Another gulp. ‘Lick the tip.’

You lick the tip. Drawing your tongue over his engorged head, tasting his salty precum that continues to leak out of him profusely. He curses.

‘Like that?’ Your mouth doesn’t leave him as you say.

‘Mhmm.’ He runs his hand through his dark locks in exasperation. ‘Suck on it gently.’

You suck on it gently. Lips wrapped around his tip like a vacuum while you breath him in. Your cheeks hollow. You look up at him for approval. One eye is clamped shut, the other is barely held open to witness the most seraphic scene.

‘Fuck, noona, like this.’

You try to take in more, letting his wide cock slide into your mouth, careful not to scrape your teeth against his hilt. When he hits the back of your throat, you gag and splutter around him. Embarrassment shoots at you, yet when you glance up, he doesn’t seem to care.

Instead, he brushes your hair behind your ear and coos, ‘Careful, noona.’ He’s so sweet, so dear, you feel a crack in your heart.

So you try again, this time slower, swallowing as much of him as you can. Your hand swirl around his shaft while his massages the back of your scalp. You roll your tongue around his head every time you come up, flickering at his slit. Soon, your pace increases along with your confidence. Jungkook is a mess under you, thighs quivering, toes curling. Humming in satisfaction, your vibrations resonate into his dick and he yelps.

‘Noona, stop before I cum.’ The way he pleads sends your cunt throbbing. You pull his member out of your mouth almost obscenely, inhaling sharply for air.

He gently places you on your back, finger tracing your drenched lips in endearment. ‘Was that ok?’

‘That was perfect, noona. Are you sure that was your first time?’ Doe eyes wide in awe of you. You giggle and nod, glowing in timid pride. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

At that, the reality of this situation hits you. This is happening, this is actually happening. You’re going to have sex for the first time. With Jungkook.

Are you sure you want to do this?

You are sure you want to do this. If not with him, then no one else.

‘Yes.’ You state firmly, eyes never once wavering from his.

His gaze on you is so soft, yet so intense, you want to melt under him. ‘Okay. I- I need to go find a condom in Jimin’s room.’

Fuzzy with your feelings for him, you watch him scramble off in the dark to the other room. Loud clangs echo down the hall, you can’t help but smile at the thought of him digging through Jimin’s pig sty, frantically searching with his rock hard cock.

Jungkook returns moments later to the sight of you completely naked on his bed. Gaping like a little boy, he almost falls onto you as he climbs onto the bed while he tears off his own top. For a minute, you two just stare at each other’s bodies, allowing the beauty to sink in and etch itself forever in your souls.

‘Noona, you’re so beautiful. Do you know that?’ He leans over to kiss all over your face.

A warm prickle sieges your heart. No one has ever called you beautiful before. Emotion floods you like an ocean, and you’re suddenly met with a familiar sting behind your eyes.

He hovers over your lips, nose rubbing on yours so lovingly you want to cry. You’re at a loss for words, so you just nod, not daring to peep a sound lest a tear escapes from you.

His hands are shaking as he rolls on the condom. Prudently, he kisses up your inner thighs before spreading them open with care. Finally, he pecks the top of your flower fondly.

Then slowly he rests his elbow beside your head and situate himself between your legs. Both your breaths are wobbly, you search his face for security and find it. His irises reflect his galaxy - you. And your fear ebbs away.

Stroking his tip along your wetness, he kisses the shell of your ear. ‘Are you really really sure?’

‘Yes, Jungkook.’ Your fingers entangle in his hair assuringly.

‘Tell me to stop if it hurts a lot. Promise, noona?’ His concern is heart wrenching.

‘Promise.’ You whisper, other hand locking with his.

Only then does he begin to ease into you. At first you don’t feel much, just his tip diving into you. Then the rest of his length pushes in, plunging through a tremendous pressure built into your walls. Pain blooms inside you as he enters deeper and deeper, it’s an ache that you anticipated but never imagined. You both cry out, though for different reasons.

‘Are you okay?’ You can tell he’s struggling to stay still, shoulders tensing at the temptation to thrust again.

‘Mhmm.’ You manage to gripe. Because despite the blinding pain, you are okay.

‘I’m gonna go as slow as I can.’ He ensures you, fingers tightening around yours.

When he plunges into you again, you expect the hurt to lessen, but it doesn’t. It overwhelms your whole body, yanking inside you. Though, every time he kisses your lips so tenderly, your forget the soreness he’s impaling into you for a fresh second. Opening your eyes, you see him panting at your tightness, trying with every muscle in his body not to go wild at you.

‘Fuck, noona.’ He exhales, forehead rested on yours.

Seeing him so berserk with pleasure calms your running anxiety. His thrusts inevitably quickens, and you just about begin to see pass the pain. Behind the ache, there’s a gratifying sting clenching your walls. The slap of his hips against your thighs ring loud.

‘Still okay?’ Jungkook asks again, worry painting his face at your silence.

‘Yes, you can go faster.’ You answer despite the ever-present soreness. When he drives hard into you, stars and tears blurring your vision.

Something in him snaps as you feel him twitch inside you. His movements grow sloppy and feral, just like the grunts that he heaves. Chasing his climax, you can tell how close he is to his sweet release.

‘Oh- Noona, I’m so cl-ose.’ He’s whimpering into your neck.

‘Jungkook, baby. Come for me.’

At your name for him, he goes crazy, ramming into you with a strength and stamina that you couldn’t expect less of from him. ‘Noona…’ He begs. The pressure inside you is easing, pain dulling, though you know you won’t feel any pleasure this time round.

Then, in one last powerful push, he ejects into you with a loud cry. You pull his lips to yours immediately to soothe his euphoria. This look of pure pleasure on his face rips you to shred as he refuses to let go of your hand. His hips jerk into yours to ride out is high as his whole body deflates onto you.

Although it’s a freezing night, goosebump plaguing both your skins, neither of you feel cold. Instead, you are enshrouded by the warmth of your passion and desire, all you feel is each other.

You, wrapped tightly around him, and him, spasming inside you.

Heavy with exhaustion, he nuzzles up to kiss you. Long, slow and hard. You have never truly appreciated his beauty until this point, under the subtle snow-clouded moon, eyes boring into you with a never-dimming glow of adoration.

Jungkook removes himself from you, hastily disposing the condom to not miss a moment by your side. Dressing you first so you don’t catch a breeze of cold, his touch feels so much warmer, gentler.

Snuggled up under the covers, he holds you so close to him that you hear his beating heart. For a timeless passage, you stare into each other wordlessly, fingers tracing delicately over every patch of skin.

‘Y/N...’ He muses out loud. ‘Y/N… You don’t know how perfect you are…’

Again, he has rendered you speechless.

Caressing your cheek in his palm, he continues. ‘I wish you could see yourself through my eyes because then you would understand why I’m so completely in love with you.’

At his words, your throat constrict. ‘What?’ You choke out.

‘I’m in love with you, noona.’ His lips are trembling, chest pounding against you. Disquietude emanates from how he’s peering at you.

‘Oh.’

‘I don’t know how you never knew, I mean- I guess it’s pretty obvious from the way I act around you. Even Yoongi-hyung spotted it right away…’ He begins to ramble, focus hopping to the collar of your jumper that he’s toying with. ‘I just… I don’t know. There’s something so special about you that I can’t find in anyone else. I thought it was just a crush but... but then you moved in with us and… And my feelings for you just drove me insane. That’s why I kept trying to avoid you. I know I wouldn’t be able to hide it if I actually spent time with you, I’m kinda stupid when it comes to girls if you can’t tell already.

‘But the truth is,’ he takes a deep breath and sighs, ‘I am truly, deeply, madly in love with you, Y/N noona. Everything about you. The way you devour jajangmyeon as easily as breathing. The way you never go a day in winter without wearing these fuzzy socks. The way you only drink lattes and chamomile tea. The way you would rather spend your friday nights curled up with a book. The way you pretend to find Jimin annoying but secretly love the attention he gives you. The way you rushed out to find me in the snow and forgot the bring your keys. And the way you can’t talk to me without stuttering just like how I can’t look you in the eye when we have a conversation.

‘I know this is a lot to spring onto you, and I don’t expect you to love me back at all. But just know that I’m here for you whenever you need. I’m your furnace in a snowstorm, hand warmer in a blizzard. And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same for me, I’ll still be here.’

Jungkook finishes with a final huff.

You stare at him, dumbfounded by his confession. Emotion floods your veins at the revelation, and you can all but break down into sobs. Jaw gaping, you regard him from his arms, trying to piece together your scattered thoughts.

‘Noona, say someth-’

You kiss him, urgently and desperately. Like you’ve been drowning in a sea of lostness, aimlessly floating about to try to find your way, and he’s your first gulp of air. Mist of perplexity is finally starting to clear away, and you see the path ahead of you with crystal lucidity.

It’s Jungkook. Jungkook, who knows your favourite colour when even your own mother doesn’t. Jungkook, who waddled out into the freezing snow to buy you new socks. Jungkook, who so gently and delicately made love to you tonight. Jungkook, who has loved you unconditionally and will continue doing so regardless of your feelings towards him.

‘I think… I think I’m falling truly, deeply, madly in love with you too, Jungkook.’

End

extras: christmas special

@shookpreme @hazelelizabeth99 @teenage-hippie @bunbundesu @tangledsparkles @gingerpeachtae idk who wanted to be tagged lol 😬

02/09/2019

12K notes · View notes

maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

Text

Day 9: Intruloceit (Pt 1)

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 9: When you write something on your own skin, it appears on your soulmate’s skin as well.

Content warnings: implied abuse (nothing graphic), self deprecation, some internalized homophobia concerning polyamory, angst.

(Happy ending in next part)

Word count: 1.7k

Janus didn’t sleep the night before his eighteenth birthday. Instead, he sat curled up on his bed, wrapped in his blanket, watching the minutes pass in the dim light of his alarm clock. His heart pounded as it drew closer to midnight, feeling like the numbers on the display were a countdown to his death.

He didn’t have friends, and that wasn’t a topic he would ever admit to being sensitive about. Most people would spend the eve of their eighteenth birthday surrounded by their loved ones, count down the seconds until they reached the strike of midnight, and then huddle around the birthday person as they wrote a message to their soulmate for the first time. A little greeting, an introduction, something to begin the process of meeting the love of their life. In a decent amount of cases, probably half, Janus would speculate, they wouldn’t get a response until their soulmate also turned eighteen, but the first note was still a special moment; something to celebrate. He’d never been a popular person though, by any standards. Even back in elementary school, his general dark demeanor and habitual lying kept people away from him. Sure, it would be more fun to play at recess with the other kids instead of laying in the sun and watching the clouds float by, but his defense mechanisms were not something he was going to let go of any time soon.

When his bedside display finally read 12:00, he expected to feel something. A shiver up his spine, a tingling under his skin, anything. But nothing happened, and he couldn’t tell if he was more grateful or upset. He stared down at his skin, pen held in his shaking hands, debating if he should do it. The minutes ticked by, suddenly a lot slower than when he’d been fighting for breath in anticipation and fear, and the pen continued to shake.

Downstairs, the front door slammed shut, causing Janus to flinch so hard the pen clattered to the floor. His dad wasn’t supposed to be home for a couple more days, and he could hear his mom voicing similar confusion as she made her way downstairs to greet him.

“Darrel? Did the trip end early?” He could hear the hesitation and uncertainty in her voice even from behind his closed door. His father had left with the excuse of a work trip. They both knew that wasn’t true, and both had an unspoken agreement to not say a word about it.

“What are you doing awake?” The man’s voice was gruff, sleep starved, annoyed. He clearly hadn’t intended to run into his wife, the soulmate he had stopped loving years ago.

“The headlights shone through the window, they woke me up.”

“Well, go back to bed. I don’t want to be grilled by you right now.”

“Do you want some dinner? I think there’s some leftovers in the fridge-”

“I said, go back to bed!”

“Darrel, please! You’re going to wake Janus!”

Janus shut his eyes and ears as the yelling started, abandoning the pen and what little excitement he’d had previously. Like every night, his sleep was as restless and chaotic as the day time, haunted with flashbacks and nightmares that he had no way to escape. Words hit with as much impact as fists, reminding him of how he was meant to be alone. A soulmate could never love a royal fuck up like him. His dad’s words echoed and distorted as the blows landed, shouts of unlovable and worthless setting in his mind as tombstones. Images of his parent’s failed bond rifled through his mind’s eye at record pace. Whether they were a one in a million flaw or just a cruel reminder that soulmates are never as perfect as displayed, he’d never know. All he knew is that he’d rather be alone for the rest of his life than be submitted to the fate that had befallen them, abuse and hatred but unable to leave, not with the expectations and stereotypes they lived under. ‘Soulmates were perfect, never failing, an unshatterable bond.’ Bullshit. He knew he was also subjecting his soulmate to a life alone, but his fear easily outweighed his desire to be loved, or his sense of compassion.

He woke up the next morning with a new heaviness in his heart, glancing at the time habitually. It was ten minutes before his alarm, but the thought of going back to sleep was too daunting a quest, so he rolled off his bed and padded to the bathroom to get ready for school. It was his senior year, and no matter how much he would rather stay at home and mope in his room, zoning out as he tended to do, he needed his grades to stay decent. It was the only way he was getting out of here. Half asleep, he threw on his yellow comfort hoodie, a stark contrast to his mood. It had been a present from his mom a few years ago, given with the uncomfortable smile between two people who lived together but rarely spoke.

He clambered down the stairs two at a time, freezing on the last step as his eye locked on the person in the kitchen. His mom sat at the table, nursing a cup of coffee silently, barely acknowledging he had entered the room. Without so much as a word, he scooted by her, eyeing the bruise forming on her left cheek and slunk out the door. They didn’t talk much anymore, why would today being his birthday change that?

The day was nothing out of the ordinary, and Janus didn’t know why that made a certain hole open up in his chest. Boring classes followed by lonely breaks, a quiet lunch hour in an abandoned classroom and an uneventful walk to the park after school. He preferred doing his homework anywhere that wasn’t home, especially now that his dad was back in town. He needed to get these done, and who knew what would pull him away from his work there. Besides, the grass was soft and the sun wasn’t too overbearingly hot, and he desperately needed a tan. The darker his skin, the more unnoticeable was the huge birthmark that covered the left side of his face, a little something that just made him that much more avoided by his peers.

His pen had barely scratched the paper when a tickle over his right arm made him gasp, like a feather ghosting over the skin. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was, and after a moment of adrenaline and panic, it occurred to him that no amount of putting it off would prevent the inevitable. He’d have to acknowledge his soulmate’s existence eventually. With a deep breath, he tugged the sleeve of his hoodie up, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

From wrist to elbow on his forearm, a deep blue ink had scribbled down bullet points that he must have not noticed throughout the entire day, since there were too many for them to have happened in the last few minutes. He started at the top, eyes drifting hungrily over the writing until he reached the last note, still being finished.

Chemistry test next Friday, study cephalopods

English paper on William Shakespeare, ask Roman for advice

Talk to Patton about moving movie night to next weekend

What far away is Andromeda from earth?

Fix V’s pin

Yell at V to stop breaking their pins

Get dad to sign detention slip

Extra credit for calculus due tomorrow

Do you want to get coffee?

Janus froze. That last one… what the hell? Sure, his brain was decently sleep deprived, but he was almost certain he hadn’t written to his soulmate last night. Except, damn, that question certainly didn’t seem to fit in with the rest of his notes; it seemed aimed at someone. Nevermind how they knew he was there, knew he had turned eighteen, they were trying to contact him, and that was more important. He picked up his discarded pen off the grass, twirling it in his fingers. What should he say? Should he even say anything? His original plan to ignore his soulmate was suddenly significantly more difficult, now that they were making the first move. They were a real person, not just a stranger, no longer a figment of his imagination twisted into something evil.

But before he could touch the tip to his arm to respond, to maybe introduce himself or ask where they were in the world (why were they offering coffee if they’d never even established where they lived, he wondered distantly), a barrage of green script exploded under his poised pen.

YES PLEASE! I was awake all night. I just saw your notes, you want help with the cephalopods? I can quiz you, I know everything about them. And I guarantee I know just as much about ya boi Billy Shakes as Roman, and I know the FUN stuff too! Not the prissy romancey stuff. Did V tell you their pin broke because they tried to stab me with it and hit my pocket knife? Because they did. What did you get detention for this time?

Even with the small writing, Janus had to rotate his arm to follow the messy scratching as the… new person continued to rant about their day. He sat in shock, not able to process what was happening. This had to be a mistake, right? It was astronomically rare to have more than one soulmate, and there was no way he was one of those people. He had never been special before in his life, in either a good way or a bad, so he in no way was deserving of… this. Maybe this was a mistake after all, just like his parents. Another cosmic fuck up, where he’d have to live out the rest of his life, watching the two people fall more and more in love while he looked on like a creep. Isn’t that what he deserved, though? The two other people obviously knew each other; two soulmates who must have turned eighteen before him and met a while ago, if their casual interaction was anything to go by. And… he couldn’t intrude on that. Even if he did, if he popped up out of nowhere like a bad cold, they wouldn’t want him to join their pre-established relationship already. They probably weren’t even polyamorous, and the whole idea would just make them uncomfortable.

His mind was too far gone for homework. So with a lump in his throat the size of a meteor and tears stinging the corner of his eyes, he capped the pen, rolled down his sleeve resolutely, and packed up his supplies. Anything his dad would do to him would surely hurt less than this.

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #sanders sides #intruloceit #janus sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #ts soulmate au #soulmate september #soulmateseptember

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soldierfirstclasszeldafair · 3 years

Text

AN: Thank you so much for requesting! Sorry I didn’t get this out sooner. I’ve been overwhelmed with school and didn’t want it to show in my writing. Please let me know what you think. I’m a little rusty.

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Dante Sparda NSFW ALPHABET

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Dante is very attentive. He knows he just put you through a lot and depending on who you are to him it can differ. If it’s just a one-time thing he’ll still make sure you’re ok, probably get you some water, but will avoid small talk. He’ll wait for you to fall asleep before sneaking off into the night.

However, if you’re together it’s a whole other story. Dante’s very gentle after sex. He takes his time cleaning you up, not wanting to cause any unwanted discomfort and also to watch you bask in the aftereffects. Dante loves to hold you in his arms and lazily stroke your back, peppering you with kisses while whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: Dante doesn’t really have a favorite part of himself.

Yours: Dante likes to have a handful. Whether it’s your ass, boobs, thighs, it doesn’t matter. He just likes having something nice to hold onto while he thrusts heavily in you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Honestly, it’s everywhere. This man packs quite the load and he’s aware of it. Whether it covers your stomach or down your throat, he doesn’t care as long as it’s messy. Though his absolute favorite place to cum is inside you but that only happens once he’s sure he can trust you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He secretly has a Daddy kink. He’s not all that into having kids but call him Daddy in the heat of the moment and he may just cum right on the spot. Seriously be careful.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He acts like he has more experience than he really does. Truthfully, he has a hard time trusting someone enough to be that vulnerable with. He may have been under the influence of alcohol when he was with someone else but was never seriously involved with anyone.

Though he may not have much experience, he certainly makes it up with enthusiasm. He’s a very fast learner and has plenty of source material to learn new things. He does have his natural instincts with his demon heritage too.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves having your front laying across his desk, hand full of your hair, hips snapping furiously against your ass. He loves the view of seeing himself disappear inside you. Also, it gives him great access to your neck where he loves to sink his teeth.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

You get the best of both worlds with this man. He’s loves that sex doesn’t have to this serious thing and that he can have fun and laugh. He may bring out the cowboy attire for some roleplay, but the both of you can’t help but laugh at his fake southern accent. He knows it can’t be all laughs and giggles though and when he needs to be serious, he can be.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

His hair is the same color. He’s got a happy trail that leads to a decent amount of hair. If it bothers you he will trim it, but he prefers to have some hair though.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He may be a devil in the sheets, but he’s the one doing the worshiping. When he’s committed you’ll know it. Dante can be very affectionate and loving. The first “I love you” may bring him to shed a tear. He’s ruined every other man for you. Dante makes sure you know you’re loved.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’s no stranger to it. When he’s not particularly interested in someone it’s not all that often. He does have to deal with his heat somehow. It isn’t until someone has piqued his interest it becomes more frequent.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He’s willing to try most things. Always makes sure theirs mutual consent before doing anything.

This demon loves orgasm control. It comes with the dominate nature of his being. He likes to hear you beg for him but flip the script and make him do the begging and he becomes putty in your hands.

He likes breath play but will never fully close off your airway.

Roleplaying is one on his list. He’s a sucker for need a pretty nurse to take care of his needs.

Devil Trigger Sex. It’s going to take a lot of convincing to persuade him into doing it. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

It’s no surprise that Dante likes taking risks, so as long as you’re ok with it anywhere can be up for grabs. Whether it’s in a dark alley for a quickie, in the back of Morrison’s borrowed car with fogged up windows, or in the bedroom for something more sensual.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Biting him on his neck is a surefire way of getting him to take you where you stand. You just marked him as yours, so he needs to do the same.

Lingerie, he tends to rip it off so be sure to warn him if you really like it.

A simple way that can be hidden from prying eyes is to take his hand and putting it between your legs. Or just stroke him. (He may make a game out of it so be prepared.)

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Inviting somebody else in is a huge no. Dante doesn’t share. It’s a fast way to ruin all the trust you’ve spent so long building. If you even bring it up, he’s already shutting you out of his life.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Dante loves to receive especially when you look him in the eyes while you do it. He’ll throw his head back and lets you work him over. If you denied his release he’s going to growl in frustration (in a good way) and if you continue to edge him, you’ll get him to beg for release.

Remember how I said Dante will worship you? You may have to tell him to stop because he tends to get carried away. He wants to hear you. He lives for it. He tends to get rather vulgar while he’s going down on you too.

If you’ve mange to get him to trigger good luck getting him to stop. His heated breath is going to have you so wet just anticipating his tongue. God his tongue. It’s barbed and should be illegal to possess something so deadly. It usually ends when you black out from overstimulation.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Dante tends to take his time with foreplay, making sure you’re prepared for what’s to come, but the pace quickens very fast from that point. There’s passion in his roughness. He likes to make a mess of you, having you say his name over and over. He leaves you sore in the best way.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

100% down. He likes to be fully in control for quickies. He pins you to the wall or closest piece of furniture, sliding your panties to the side and fucks you nice and fast. He loves it when he has to clamp his hand over your mouth to keep you from being a moaning mess. It’s an ego boost for him knowing just how loud he makes you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

YES, in short. If he trusts you and you him, he’s willing to try. There’s been many, many times where you’ve both have nearly been caught. You’d swear it’s his favorite pastime. And no, it did not stop him when you did get caught. He simply used his body to keep you from being seen, laughed, and kept going like nothing happened.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

His heritage is both a blessing and a curse. He has more stamina than the average man. He’s a bit of a sex fiend. He likes to make a day of it if he’s honest, but it’s whatever you’re comfortable with. If you’re down for one round he’s completely fine with that. He’s going to make sure your both satisfied. Willing to help him deal with his heat? Great! Just know you he’s not letting you go far.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

It started out for you only then he’d became more experimental. He likes being handcuffed and blindfolded. You took the vibrator that was originally intended for you and strapped it to his cock. You’d never seen your devil squirm so much.

Dante doesn’t use them unless you’re with him. He’d rather experience the fun with you. However, he’s more possessive of you than he originally thought. Dante Sparda gets jealous of the dildo you have. He’s thought about throwing the damn thing out the window. He wants to be the only thing inside you, not some fake cock that can’t even compete with his size. He understands that you have needs when he’s not around, so he has to forcefully block it out of his mind.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Dante is the Devil when it comes to teasing. He’s got a vulgar mouth, a wicked tongue, and he’s pretty great with his hands. The smug bastard.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Dante isn’t loud per say. He more breathy than anything. That doesn’t mean you can’t get something else from him. He tends to moan when things are going slower, a more romantic setting if you will. Though if you do want to hear him, the easiest way is to start teasing him, making him grunt or growl in response.

His demonic form is where things get interesting. He’ll purr if he’s breeding you. It’s an eerily calming sound from such a creature. Though if you’re brave enough and dare to tease him in that form, he’ll growl. It’s a low vibration that you feel throughout your body and it sends chills over your skin. It quickly becomes a favorite of yours.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Dante didn’t realize how good it felt to have someone else run their fingers through his hair. The light pulling against his strands does something for the man. He prefers you to play in his hair after sex. It’ll help him fall asleep faster plus he let’s out the cutest noise. It’s like a light moan but not quite. He’ll soon start to purr the closer he is to falling asleep. If you play in his hair in the morning it’ll most likely lead to morning sex.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s above average in length for sure with a nice thickness. He’s got a prominent vein on the underside and he curves a bit to the left.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Before your relationship he could manage going 2 weeks without helping himself out. He didn’t really have the time to whip it out when he was busy trying to keep the lights on. Now though? He can barely mange the length of your cycle.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s got this internal rule that he doesn’t want to go to sleep until you do or if he’s sure you’re satisfied. You do tend to fall asleep before him, mostly with your head on him. Every once in a while, he’ll fall asleep first mostly when you play with his hair, with his faced tucked into your neck or chest with an arm wrapped around you. Dante to sleep deeply after sex so it’s ideal to get in a comfortable position before he falls asleep.

#dante x reader #Dante Sparda #dante son of sparda #dante devil may cry

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there-must-be-a-lock · 3 years

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Not Your Average Love Story (SPN x CM)

Sam Winchester x Spencer Reid

Word Count: ~3490

Warnings: Show-level violence, but that’s about it! It’s bizarrely fluffy.

A/N: My first square for @cmbingo: “meet the parents.” This is essentially a rewrite of Supernatural 12x01, “Keep Calm and Carry On,” except Spencer and Sam are adorable dorky murder boyfriends.

Thanks to @fangirlxwritesx67 for the read-through!

When Spencer realizes he’s in love with Sam, he’s on a plane, hoping to make it to Kansas before the sun goes dark.

He looks out the window at the too-orange light, thinking, this is a weird twist for a love story. He turns that thought over in his mind and realizes: love.

Oh.

It takes him by surprise, for some reason, but only for a second. He’s starting to get used to surprises.

* * *

Spencer has always been self-aware enough to realize that his intellect and his lack of social skills would not make it easy to strike up a traditional relationship. Then, of course, you factor in his obsessive tendencies, his attachment issues, and the stresses of his job, and it’s not actually surprising that he made it past the age of thirty before he fell in love for the first time. Considering how that ended, it’s definitely a surprise — if not a minor miracle — that he’s made it this far with Sam.

Then again, nothing about their relationship has been predictable. Spencer never guessed he’d meet his future partner while dissecting a dessicated brain.

Ever since Spencer Reid met Sam Winchester, his life has been one surprise after another.

* * *

The third unanswered call makes him nervous, but he figures Sam must be asleep, or at least he should be asleep. If Spencer finds himself doing ninety mph in his tiny rental car, it’s mostly because Kansas highways don’t seem to follow the usual laws of physics. They’re flat and endless and eerie in the grey pre-dawn light.

The moment he opens the door, Spencer knows something is wrong. He spares a wishful thought for his Kevlar, and then he draws his gun, falling automatically into the too-familiar stance as he silently descends the stairs.

There’s blood on the floor.

This doesn’t surprise him in the slightest.

* * *

Spencer tends to spend a lot of time visualizing hypothetical problems and their solutions. He’s good at imagining all the potential outcomes of a particular scenario and calculating their likelihoods based on given variables. He frequently does this at night, instead of sleeping.

In other words, he worries a lot.

If he were in a normal relationship he would probably worry about normal things. For example: whether Spencer was misreading the situation, whether it was okay to run a thorough background check on them, and what to wear on a date. What would their first argument be about? What would their parents think of him? What would his mom think of them?

About thirty-six hours after they met, Sam saved Spencer’s mom from a wraith; first impressions don’t get much better than that.

The normal worries were rapidly eclipsed by Sam-specific worries. For example: what if he got cursed, what if he got possessed, and were there angels or demons after him this week. Why couldn’t Dean either drive a little slower or get a car with less antiquated safety features? How would Spencer help if Sam got hurt on the job? Should he tell the B.A.U. what he’s been learning about the supernatural?

He does end up telling them everything; Sam and Dean show up at a crime scene, Hotch almost arrests them, and it turns out that one of the serial killers they’ve been hunting for a decade is actually a skinwalker.

But the point is that when Spencer sees blood on the floor, he isn’t surprised. He’s visualized this scenario — and several hundred variations on it — before.

* * *

He hears a raised voice in the library and takes the steps two at a time. There are two complete strangers there, a blonde woman aiming a gun at a man, and Spencer’s training kicks in before he can figure out why she looks familiar.

“Federal agent, hands in the air,” he barks.

He can see the split-second when the woman thinks about turning her gun on him, but she seems to think better of it, and she sets the gun down slowly before putting her hands in the air.

“Who are you?” the man demands. “What did you do with Sam?”

“What — Sam?” Spencer asks, panic rising in his throat. “Spencer Reid, FBI. Who —”

“You’re Spencer?” he asks, brow furrowed.

Spencer realizes: “You’re Castiel.”

“Whoa, whoa, hey, gun down,” Dean interrupts. “It’s okay! She’s okay, Spence!”

“Dean? You’re alive?” Castiel grabs him before he can say anything else.

Spencer lowers his gun slowly. He’s starting to hyperventilate. He wants to know how Dean is still alive, yes, but he’s watching the way they embrace, the smile on Cas’s face and the way Dean’s shoulders seem to drop like he’s relaxing for the first time in a long time, and all he can think about is —

“Can somebody tell me where the hell Sam is?” Spencer asks, voice cracking embarrassingly.

“He’s not here,” Castiel says.

The woman looks between Cas and Spencer, eyes wide, and it’s not clear who she’s talking to when she asks, “Who are you?”

“He’s my —” Dean starts.

Cas cuts him off by saying, “He’s Sam’s —” at the same time Spencer blurts out, “He’s an angel.”

“Come again?” the woman asks, and when she sees the way Dean shifts nervously, she adds, “Not that, I don’t care about — you said angel?”

“Angel. You know. Wings, harp.”

“Not actually,” Spencer tells her, just as Cas scowls and says, “No, I don’t have a harp.”

“Cas, Spencer,” Dean says, and he pauses, swallowing hard. “This is Mary. Mary Winchester.”

Spencer and Cas speak in unison again, Cas in a gruff monotone as Spencer’s voice goes squeaky: “Your mother?”

Of all the things Spencer has worried about, he never thought he would never have to worry about making a bad first impression on Sam’s parents. Sam’s parents are dead.

Except… apparently not. Apparently Sam’s mom has been resurrected, and Spencer just pulled a gun on her.

“Nice to meet you,” Mary says softly, with a tentative smile.

For a second he freezes, staring at her, and his mind starts racing, recalculating, replanning, getting his worrying done after the fact, and Spencer has no idea what to say. He never made a plan for this.

“Nice to meet you,” he responds, flushing. “Um. Sorry about that.”

“I’d have done the same thing if I were you.” She smiles, and she doesn’t look much like Sam, but the kindness in her eyes is so very familiar. Spencer’s breath catches.

“She’s not kidding, shoulda seen the way she pinned me when I tried to introduce myself,” Dean grumbles. Then he turns to Castiel and says, “Tell me what happened to Sam.”

As Castiel starts to explain the details, Spencer calls Penelope.

“FBI, office of the brilliant but under-caffeinated,” she says, slightly less chirpy than he’s used to, and Spencer realizes how early it is. Oops.

“It’s me.”

“Oh! Boy genius! They did it, huh? Hotch called us back in, like, as soon as the sun came back on, because apparently criminals don’t stop just because the world is ending, or whatever, but he wanted to give you a day at least — hey, are you okay? How’s that handsome lumberjack of yours?”

“Sam’s missing,” Spencer says without preamble. “I need your help.”

It takes Penelope approximately a minute to find the car and identify the driver, but the identity of his passenger is a little more elusive. She types away, keys clattering ceaselessly in the background, as Spencer yawns.

“Got it! Okay, I have a cell number. If you call her, I can track it. You ready?”

“Dean, give me your phone?” Spencer asks, holding out a hand. “You stay on the line with Penelope. She can tell you as soon as she gets the address.”

“I can make the call,” Dean says. “I want to have a word with this bitch.”

“Dean,” Spencer snaps. “First of all, I’m the only person here who’s trained in hostage negotiation. Finding people is literally in my job description.”

“This isn’t a fuckin’ bank holdup, this is my brother,” Dean retorts. “It’s my job to take care of him.”

“If you call her a bitch and start in on your threatening macho bullshit, she’s going to hang up, or worse, she’s going to believe you, and then she’ll be trying to get you before you can get to Sam. I know how to talk to people like this. If I can convince her I’m scared, that I’m not a real threat, she might give something away.”

“But —”

“Secondly, the only people who know you’re alive are in this room right now, which means you’re our best chance to take her by surprise when we get there, so shut up and let me do my job.”

“You really think you can find him,” Dean says, and it’s not a question. He holds out his phone with a look of begrudging respect.

“Yes.”

Spencer thinks, I have to.

* * *

People aren’t all the same, but if you could quantify the concept of normal, if you could look at it statistically, most people would fall within the standard deviation. Most of their lives take an even, predictable shape, Spencer thinks. There are plenty of other people like them, and they seem to fit with each other, too, interlocking in an easy way that Spencer has always envied.

Spencer’s got all these awkward uneven edges and strange angles. He’s not normal, and he’s always known that.

For a long time, he doesn’t think he’ll ever find someone who’ll fit easily, not without changing him, trying to reshape him in some way. He doesn’t want to change, but he gets lonely. Most people (friends, let alone lovers) don’t last long before they get sick of his quirks. Some try longer than others, but one way or another, there’s always some jarring part of him that doesn’t match what they want.

What if they like to sleep with the windows open, even in the winter? Or if they sleep with the air conditioning cranked up in the summer? Spencer knows he should be better about compromising on little things like that, but he really prefers things a certain way. He knows it’s neurotic. He can’t help it.

Spencer is used to people staring blankly when he starts talking, but at what point will it drive someone away? When will they stop pretending to care about his Doctor Who opinions? When will they get bored of his info-dumping?

And then there are the really difficult questions. How does he tell someone he used to be an addict? What if he doesn’t want to tell them about being kidnapped and tortured? What if he does, and then they start asking questions? How does he explain his PTSD, or his nightmares, or his bedtime routine of triple-checking every lock and setting his gun within arm’s reach?

At first, when he met Sam, Spencer worried about arguments and parents and all the other normal things, but more importantly, he worried about himself. He wondered which of his irregularities would finally make Sam give up on his attempts to fit Spencer into his life.

Neither of them sleep much, but when they do end up sharing a bed, Sam has his own routine; while Spencer checks the locks, Sam draws warding symbols, lines each window and door with salt, and sets his gun within reach. He likes the windows closed and the thermostat above 68, because, he explains simply, “Lucifer runs cold.”

Speaking of Lucifer. Sam understands addiction, kidnapping, torture, PTSD, and nightmares, and he doesn’t ask Spencer to tell his stories before he’s ready. Sam has stories of his own.

Sam also has his own Doctor Who opinions, and those opinions were the cause of their very first argument. Sam is wrong, but Spencer loves that he cares enough to argue.

The first time Spencer started rambling about serial killers, he noticed Sam frowning and cut himself off, embarrassed, ready to apologize. Sam just pulled out a journal and asked him to repeat what he’d said, so that Sam could do more research on the subject later.

Sam doesn’t expect him to change. He doesn’t try to re-shape Spencer. His life is just as weird, and by all logic they shouldn’t fit, but they do. And Spencer doesn’t feel any less himself, but suddenly he realizes that he must’ve changed along the way, because he can’t imagine his life without Sam any more; if they can’t find him, his absence is going to tear Spencer apart.

* * *

It’s a tense car ride, to say the least.

Hell of a first impression, Spencer thinks again, glancing at Mary’s pale, worried face in the rearview.

Castiel and Mary are in the backseat, and they’re trying to make small talk, but Castiel seems to be about as good as Spencer at the whole “casual conversation” thing. Sam’s told him so much about Castiel, Spencer feels like he knows him, but they’ve never actually crossed paths before.

And then there’s Dean, who’s got his jaw clenched, staring straight ahead. Spencer gives him directions, and he grunts or nods, but he doesn’t say anything else.

Dean intimidates the hell out of him, but they’ve always gotten along fine, maybe because Spencer’s never yelled at him before. He’s very aware that arguing with Dean Winchester is usually fruitless at best (and deadly at worst), but he’s never been good at holding his tongue when he’s upset.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer manages to mutter eventually.

“Huh?” Dean looks at him, frowning.

“About earlier. I didn’t mean to — um.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Dean says gruffly.

“I was upset. I’m sorry.”

Dean shrugs, and he hesitates before adding, “You were right.” He looks as surprised to be saying it as Spencer is to hear it.

Spencer blinks at him a couple times before hurriedly saying, “Turn left. There.”

Cas and Mary are having a quiet conversation about the weirdness of technology, and Spencer is about to join them when Dean speaks up again.

“Garcia — she said something funny.”

“Uh oh.”

Dean snorts. “Nah, not like that. Before she hung up, she told me not to worry. Said of everybody she knows, Sam probably has the second-best odds of escaping any poor sap who tries to abduct him.”

“Second best?”

“That’s what I said. But apparently that title belongs to you.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it. All I can do is talk myself out, he’s stronger.” Spencer gives him a crooked attempt at a smile; it feels awkward on his face, but he means it when he says, “He’ll be okay.”

* * *

The funny thing is, Spencer has been in this situation before.

When it was Maeve, though, he panicked, because all he could think about was how she must feel: scared, helpless. Spencer has too much empathy sometimes. Imagining Maeve’s helplessness made him feel like he was drowning.

This is different. He’s not exactly zen about the whole situation, of course; it feels like a piece of him is missing, but he’s clear-headed, because he knows that Sam is anything but helpless. He trusts Sam to take care of himself.

Aside from the supernatural element, Sam’s job is astoundingly similar to Spencer’s, and he’s astoundingly good at it. The Winchesters have consulted on a couple cases, now, for the B.A.U. (Spencer’s still not sure how Hotch manages the paperwork) and they try to find cases in the same general area as wherever Spencer winds up, so they’ve gotten to work together a few times. Sam’s sheer competence at his job might be the most attractive thing Spencer has ever seen.

Spencer used to imagine a quiet, mundane romance. He always just assumed he’d find someone whose life was more normal than his, and he was resigned to the stress it would cause in a relationship. He’d forget to call, he’d miss dinner, he’d have to cancel plans and be absent from so much of what constituted a normal domestic life, and his partner would be left at home, alone, all too aware of how much danger Spencer could be in, helpless to do anything about it.

Instead, Spencer found Sam. Spencer never has to feel guilty about missing dinner, because Sam isn’t at home worrying about him. Sam is out there saving the world.

Sam is not going to wait for Spencer to rescue him; he might not even need rescuing, at this point. Instead of worrying about what Sam is doing and whether he’s scared, Spencer can focus on his own plan.

* * *

He and Dean circle slowly around the house. They spot the entrance to the basement, and Dean almost runs right to it, but Spencer grabs his arm and points to the sigils around the door.

Spencer notices movement through a window next to the back door, and when they creep up to get a glimpse inside, he sees two women. One is the blonde — the brains of the operation — and the other is stockier, clearly the muscle.

After a quick conversation in whispers and gestures, Dean sneaks around to the side of the house opposite the basement, and a second later Spencer hears him shout. He waits a couple seconds and glances in the window again, and sure enough, the bigger woman is gone while the blonde is watching something on a computer monitor, looking agitated. Security cameras, maybe.

Spencer is about to go inside when he sees the blonde start, look around, and grab a cattle prod. Then she’s hurrying toward a door, sliding back a heavy deadbolt, and Spencer sees a dark stairwell that must lead to the basement.

He slips through the door and follows her.

For a split-second, the scene in the basement almost stops his heart. Sam is lying on the floor, completely still, his head surrounded by a puddle of blood.

But before Spencer can really process what he’s seeing, let alone react, Sam is in motion: lashing out, grabbing her by the throat, shoving her against the wall. Spencer descends the stairs quietly with his gun at the ready, trying not to make any noise that might distract Sam right now.

Sam doesn’t need his help. There’s blood on his damp clothes and his arms are shaking as the blonde goes limp in his grip, but he’s alive; he doesn’t need Spencer’s help, and Spencer isn’t the slightest bit surprised.

When Sam turns and sees him, he doesn’t look surprised either. He just smiles, all dimples and sparkling eyes in spite of his obvious pain as he limps over.

“Sorry that took me so long,” Spencer says casually, trying to control his grin. He doesn’t want to holster his gun yet, so he keeps it trained on the woman and hugs Sam one-armed.

Sam wraps his arms around Spencer, holding on tight. Spencer rests his forehead on Sam’s shoulder, taking a second to breathe as he feels missing pieces sliding neatly into place.

“Love you,” Sam says, and the words sound like a sigh of relief. He pulls back, and he looks surprised, like he didn’t actually mean to say that out loud.

Spencer’s about to reply when he sees the woman struggling to her feet, reaching for her cattle prod, and so instead he says, “Look out.”

Sam steps sideways to give him a clear shot. Spencer shoots her in the thigh and she screams as she falls to the floor.

“See how you like it,” Sam tells her, with a vicious little smile.

“I love you too,” Spencer blurts out.

For a second they both pause, grinning at each other like idiots, their surroundings forgotten.

Then there’s a sound from overhead, and Sam asks hurriedly, “The other one. Did you take her out already?”

“Dean’s got her,” Spencer tells him. “We should check on him, then we can come back down and deal with — Sam?”

At first he can’t figure out why Sam’s mouth drops open like that, shocked and disbelieving. Then he remembers.

“Dean’s alive?” Sam asks, a smile spreading slowly over his face. Spencer nods, wrapping an arm around Sam’s ribs, supporting him as he limps gingerly toward the stairs. It feels like he’s forgetting something.

There’s another noise, and then Mary is in the doorway, looking down at them.

Oh.

Sam turns to Spencer silently, like he’s waiting for confirmation that she’s real.

Spencer nods. “Yeah. So — um. Surprise?”

Sam doesn’t actually seem all that surprised, because… of course he doesn’t. He blinks at Spencer a couple times and then he grins.

“You met my mom before I did,” Sam says, breathless and amused, and grabs the banister to haul himself up the stairs. Spencer laughs and follows him, smiling to himself.

It’s not your average “meet the parents” scene, but somehow, it fits Sam and Spencer perfectly.

Nothing about their love story has been normal. Why start now?

#cmbingo21 #criminal minds #supernatural #sam winchester x spencer reid #spencer reid fic #sam winchester fic

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