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xoxo-teddybear · 3 years

Note

Hey idk if I’ve asked for this before but can you do nsfw Bakugo x fem reader fic, where you do work studies with him. He’s obviously going to be a little older 3-6 years, and you two have know each other since you were kids and he’s always just been a little nicer to you and cared about you more than others, and when you are working with him you get hurt and he flips out. You’re really confused and your like “wtf why do you care this isn’t affecting your job” and he gets mad your not getting the hint that he cares about you in a “not friendly” way, he ends up tch’ing and just says frick it and confesses that he has feelings for you and you’re just like cool I reciprocate and he’s like “with”... it just gets frisky from there... Idk if this is like a thing you might be interested in writing about, but like it just an idea😃... Anyways I love your work please keep it up🥺(sorry for any grammatical errors I’m writing this at 2:30am)

What Took So Long? - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugo x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW, f!receiving, mutual pining, angst, injury, fluff, cursing, all the good stuff

BAKUGOU”S MASTERLIST

Summary: you and Katsuki have been close friends for forever, how long is it gonna take to realize both your love is mutual?

Growing up, you and Katsuki got along really well. You knew him before he got his quirk so you got to see his non-egotistical self. You saw the him that was kind and caring and he always looked out for you, always took care of you, always was there for you. In your eyes, you thought he thought it was in a big brother kinda way. Oh how that changed once you both became teenagers.

You both made it into UA, of course at different times, but you still kept in touch. You guys hung out like, everyday! It was always wake up, FaceTime, go to school, text throughout the day, and meet and go to either your house or his. It was like there was nobody else in the world except you two.

Throughout the years, you developed a small crush on the blonde boy. What went from a small crush turned into love. To you, it was unreciprocated love. He was 3 years older than you! He had to have seen you as a little sister. It only made sense! When you came to that terribly incorrect realization, you pushed back your feelings. What you had with Katsuki was special! You’re friendship meant the world to you. It didn’t matter if you wanted more, what you had was already perfect, there was no way it could’ve gotten better than this.

—

This. These moments. These memories being made with Katsuki kept you sane. As you both cuddled up and watched a trashy reality tv show in your room on your computer, you both threw popcorn at the screen at the cringe scenes.

“BoooooOOOOO!!” You both said as you threw a handful of the buttery snack. You both laughed at the moment as you settled down again. With you both laying on each other, your head on his, while his own rested on your shoulder, you were sure both of you would get neck pains the next day.

“So,” Katsuki started up a conversation, “how’s your third year at UA?”

“Ugh, don’t get me started. Classes got crazy hard outta nowhere. BUT, lucky for me, I have a UA graduate to help me out!” You said while nudging his arm.

“No way teddy bear, you’re finishing that on your own. As a graduate, that means I don’t gotta deal with that bullshit anymore.” He said as he popped some pieces of the snack into his mouth. With that, you pouted. Something he noticed and thought was insanely adorable. He poked your plump lips and told you, “hey, I’m helping you by letting you do your work study at my agency. You’re very welcome for that.”

“Helping? Suuukkiiii, you barely let me go out and fight. How am I supposed to get experience and actually do my work study if I don’t...you know..WORK?” You whined out. Katsuki had always been avoiding this topic. Yeah, he let you get your credits by going to his agency, but he never let you do any real hero work other than paperwork. Don’t get me wrong, you loved hanging out with him as much as you could, but it was beginning to get boring not doing anything at the agency.

“Y/N, no. You’re getting enough experience. Paper work is a big part in the life of a Pro,” he argued.

“Yeah, well saving people and actually getting out there in the field is a bigger part in the life of a pro.” You rebuttled as you flopped down next to him. You looked at him with puppy eyes and he knew what was coming.

“No.”

“Pleaseee Suki!”

“No.”

“Pleaseee!!”

“Nope.”

“Sukiiiiiii!!” You whined while tugging at his arm. He sighed before answering.

“One job, WITH ME, and that’s all you get.” He said while staring at you with a stern look. You smiled and jumped in the air.

“YESSSS!!”

—

So now here you are, on job number whatever. You weren’t sure how many you’ve actually been on because ever since your first job with Katsuki was a huge success, he let you join him more and more. You were almost like a partner to him now, fighting crime together. Except this time...things went a little south.

As the villain struck you down mid air with his quirk, you fell to the ground with a now burned arm. Katsuki saw red. No fucking way. No way in HELL is he going to let some shit faced freak bring harm to his teddy bear, his world, his best friend, and the love of his life. Yup. Katsuki Bakugou fell for his best friend. But could you blame him? You knew him better than anyone else, you guys got along so well, you were absolutely gorgeous and he was sure he’d give his life for you. 100%. So when this scum bag thought he could try and ruin you, he saw red. Blasting him a thousand times over and once he was sure he was out cold, battered, bloodied, and bruised he ran to check on you.

You were sitting on the ground holding your left arm where the burn mark was. Your costume was tattered and your head felt like it was gonna blow. Katsuki came along and didn’t really help with that all too much.

“YOU FUCKING DUMBASS!” He screamed. Oh, the throbbing your head had only increased with his booming voice.

“You see?! This is exactly why I hate bringing you along! You’re always gonna get hurt!” He said as he picked you up off the ground to help you stand.

“Of course I’m gonna get hurt Dynamight, my job as a hero includes a little beating every now and then for the sake and safety of others!” You replied, raising your voice as well.

“You’re NOT a hero Y/N!” He said as he reached out for your arm.

“Yet! Not yet at least! But I will be!” You replied while pulling away from him. His eyes were shaken and it was clear he was mad. You pushing his buttons didn’t help soothe his anger either.

“NO YOU WONT. Y/N ITS SO OBVIOUS YOU’D MAKE A SHIT HERO! YOU ALREADY GOT HURT ON SUCH A SIMPLE JOB, DO YOU HONESTLY THINK ANYBODY WOULD BE WILLING TO DEPEND ON YOU FOR THEIR SAFETY?!?!?” Bakugou heard the words he said and he thought he was doing the right thing. Granted, he knew the delivery was bad, but his message was in there. He didn’t want Y/N to be hurt. If she died on the battle field, Katsuki wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Y/N can’t be a hero, for her safety and his sanity. He loved her too much to have to watch her take beating after beating. However, Y/N took it in a completely different way.

“Are you trying to say I can’t be a good hero?!” You asked filled with anger and hurt.

“Y/N,”

“It’s H/N, Dynamight. That’s the name you’ll address me as for when we’re on the job. That’s the name you’ll have to get used to because I will be a hero!” You exclaimed.

“You can’t be a hero Y/N! You’re gonna get hurt! You always get hurt! You’d be more of a burden on a mission instead of an advantage! So just stop trying ‘Cuz you’re never gonna make it!” He screamed at you. Is this what he really thought of you. That you were weak and wouldn’t be able to do jack shit? As your eyes began to water, you walked away from him in silence.

“Y/N...where are you going?” He asked you as he followed.

“Recovery girl. She’ll heal me up and I’ll be perfectly fine.” You simply stated.

“At least let me help you,” Bakugou said as he tried to reach out to you, but you only stepped away from him again, which made his heart hurt a little.

“Don’t touch me, Bakugou. I’ll be fine on my own.” You said.

“Bakugou? Who the fuck are you talking to teddy bear?” He said as he got all up in your face. You only rolled your eyes and stepped to the side. You used your quirk to get into the air and travel faster. In the dust, you left behind a confused and hurt Katsuki.

“Uhh....Okay! See you later for movie night!” He yelled out as he watched you fly off. You’d still show up, right? Yeah, you’d show. You always spent everyday together after school and work so it only made sense...right?

—

Well he was wrong. Really wrong. It’s been a week since you last spoke to him, the longest it’s ever been, and he was starting to get into a depressing cycle. Wake up, call Y/N. No reply. Get ready, spam her. No reply. Go to work, text Y/N throughout the day. No reply. Get out of work, go home, shower, eat dinner, do whatever while stalking your social media, go to bed, spam a little more, call twice more, and still. No reply. He misses his teddy bear.

Y/N doesn’t even go to her work study anymore. She’s been doing everything she could to avoid Bakugou, and he’s noticed it all too well. He still gave her the credits, he wanted her to pass of course, but he was also tempted to stop doing that just so she could show up and see him. Thankfully he didn’t.

Now here lies Bakugou Katsuki, watching a movie by himself again, hoping his crush and best friend would show up. But again, like every other night for the past week, she hasn’t shown. The end credits roll in and Bakugou sighs as he looks down, thinking back to all he said.

‘Y/N ITS SO OBVIOUS YOU’D MAKE A SHIT HERO! ... DO YOU HONESTLY THINK ANYBODY WOULD BE WILLING TO DEPEND ON YOU FOR THEIR SAFETY?! ... you’re never gonna make it!’

Bakugou flopped down onto his bed.

“Great idea Katsuki, tell your dream girl she won’t ever reach her goals. That’ll win her heart,” he sarcastically said aloud as he cringed at his own thoughts. Bakugou just let a few tears fall, before rolling over and going to bed. He had patrol in the morning, maybe it’ll get his mind off of Y/N.

—

Orrrr maybe not. Because here he was, Pro-hero Dynamight, following around his 18 year old crush as she walked home after getting some coffee from their favorite cafe. Should he have been on patrol keeping the city safe? Yes. But was he going to take this chance to talk to Y/N to fix this shit? Yes.

Once Y/N made it to her doorstep she heard a voice behind her.

“Glad you made it home safe..Maybe we could pick up on that trashy reality show now that we’re both here,” Katsuki said while trying to joke around. Y/N only rolled her eyes at the hero and attempted to put her key into the lock. Katsuki was quick to react though. He snatched her keys out of her hand before speaking again.

“Y/N please! I can’t live like this! I can’t live without you in my life. You’ve been absent for a week and it’s been driving me insane!” He said while holding onto your wrist.

“Katsuki, give me back my keys.” You calmly said.

“Y/N, just hear me out.” He also calmly said.

“And listen to you say what Katsuki?! That I’ll never be a hero? That even if I was I’d be a terrible one? That I should just give up and stop trying?! Don’t worry, I already have. So now, let me go-“ Bakugou shut you up with a kiss. You were shocked and froze up. He kissed you with such passion and you melted into it, closing your eyes and letting him hold you as he pleased. He speperated from you before speaking again.

“You are not a terrible hero. Y/N you’re one of the strongest people I know. If anything, you’d be a better hero than me...but if you got hurt, I don’t know what I would do.” He said looking down. You turned your head in confusion at his small confession.

“Katsuki?..”

“When you got hurt that day, I was livid. I almost killed that guy, just for scorching your arm. There are so many worse things that could happen to you when you do become a pro and the fact that I freaked out so bad over a little burn is insane! I just want you to be safe. I can’t let you risk your life when I need you hear with me the most...... I can’t let the girl of my dreams get hurt.” He said while placing his forehead on yours.

“When I become a hero, I’d be taking on an oath to put others before my own. And that’s what I choose to do. I’m gonna get banged up from time to time and I understand you’re worried about me, but you have to trust me when I saw I’ll always come back to you. I love you Katsuki.” With that, Bakugou slowly moved in to give you another kiss. This time, you kissed him back, letting your hands travel to his soft, golden hair as he pressed you up against the door.

You heard him unlock your door during the kiss, and as he separated he spoke.

“Let me show you just how much I love you Y/N.” He pushed open the door and continued to make out with you. Kicking the door to close it, he pushed you up against the wall. There he picked you up, and groped your ass, earning a moan from you. With your mouth open, he slipped his tongue in, tasting all of you. He walked to your bedroom, kicking open the door this time, and shutting it the same way as before. He dropped you onto the bed as you both giggled in excitement. You noticed something though. He was still in hero gear.

“Shouldnt you be on patrol, Dynamight?” You asked as he came up to kiss your neck and you pulled him in closer.

“Dynamight has something better to do right now, Teddy Bear. And you know what?” He asked while putting his face right infront of yours.

“Tell me what, hero.”

“That’s the exact name I want you screaming.” He smirked. He tore off his top and mask before taking off your own. He then attacked your breast. He pulled off your bra before taking a second to admire your perfect curves. He squeezed a mound in one hand before taking in the other one with his mouth, biting at your nipple. Leaving hickies all over your chest, he was proud to see the purple marks that now adorn your upper body. He pulled down your pants and kissed your inner thighs. Right at the center was his treat. He pulled at your panties and stuffed them in his pocket.

“Hey!” You said after you noticed what he did.

“My little souvenir. Don’t worry about it princess, I’ll buy you more.” He kissed up on your legs and saw your arousal glistening. He licked his lips as his ruby eyes dialated. He was excited. He took an experimental lick as you moaned at the feeling and he savored the sweet taste. He could help himself, he dove right in for more. As his tongue lapped up against your clit, you moaned out in pleasure.

“Mm...yess Suki! Oh fuck right there..” you said as you pulled on his hair. He smacked your thigh, receiving a yelp from you.

“That’s not my name, princess~” he smirked against your pussy. He stuck his tongue in you and you cried out even more.

“F-Fuck! Dynamight, pleasee...more!” He squeezed your ass in approval as your legs began to shake. He knew what was coming and used his fingers to rub against your bud.

“Fuck..cum for me princess, cum in my mouth and let your hero taste you.” He said as your squirted in his face and Bakugou suck your clit, collecting all your sweet nectar.

“What a good girl,” he said as he came up to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“You ready for the main event?” He asked while giving you this cocky grin.

“Please..” you whined out.

“Please what, princess? You’re gonna need to be specific.” He knew what he was doing. He wanted you to beg. And you were going to do it.

“Mm..Please Dynamight! Please fuck me with your cock! Please fuck my pussy!” You begged. He smiled and smacked your ass.

“Good girl.” He said as he pulled down his hero slacks and stepped out of the material. Here he was, Pro-hero Dynamight and your now ex best friend completely stripped infront of you. His member hanging out with a hard erection and your eyes went wide at the length. He noticed this and tilted your chin up so your E/C diamonds could meet his eyes. “Don’t worry, it’ll fit,” he kindly said.

“Doubt it,” you sarcastically replied.

“Then we’ll make it fit, Princess.” You bit your lip in excitement. He pumped his cock a few times before placing the tip at your entrance. He rubbed his tip up and down you slit as he spoke.

“I’ve wanted this for so long princess, and now I’m finally gonna make you mine.” He said before he slammed in as you both cried out in ecstasy.

“Oh-oh my god..” you whimpered. He peppered your face in kisses to distract you from the pain. Once you adjusted to his size, you begged him to move.

“Please..more.”

With your permission, he began to thrust in and out of your heat, with hard, slow strokes. Both of you moaning as the sensation. The way he filled you up completely was euphoric. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss, moaning into it as he picked up his pace a little more. You could hear his grunts and soft moans as he sped up, enjoying the way your pussy held him tight.

“Mm...Harder, Dynamight...F-Faster..please!” You whined. Katsuki listened, and he listened well. His strokes went deeper, his speed increased, and he fucked you harder than ever as he went up to your ear.

“Yeah...you want it harder?...deeper?....Mm fuck, faster princess? You like it rough? You like how Dynamight fucks your tight little cunt?” He asked while you cried out in pure pleasure.

“Y-yesss. Oh my god yes Dynamight. Fuck me just like this...ahhh!” Bakugou grabbed onto your ass with both his hands as he pummeled into you. You gripped his hair and he moaned at the feeling. He sucked on one of your tits as he looked at you. God, you were gorgeous. The blush that covered your face, you mouth hanging open with a slight smile as moans fall from it, and your eyes looking up like you’ve been fucked stupid.

“Oh..I’m gonna cum! Please, I’m gonna cum!” You moaned out.

“Not yet Teddy bear. Hold it,” he said as he gave your ass a hard smack and pulled out of you. You whined at the loss of his cock and looked at him with begging eyes.

“Turn around princess. I want you on all fours.” He simply said as he continued to pump his cock.” You moaned at the sight of it and smirked to yourself. He watched as you dragged your hand to your center and began playing with yourself.

“And if I don’t listen?” You smiled as you moaned at the way your fingers rubbed at your pussy. Bakugou grabbed your hand and got in your face before you could go any further.

“Then the brat who wants to cum so bad will cum for me 100 times over as her punishment.” He said as a threat but you only took it the best way possible.

“Sounds fun..Katsuki.” With that, he yanked your hand away from yourself and flipped you over before slamming back into you from behind and smacking your ass again and again.

“Ohh fuck...Ah...you think you’re funny, huh y-you brat? Let’s see how funny you are when I fuck you so dumb the only thing you’ll know is my name.” He said as he pounded into you. Your cried were muffled as you screamed into the mattress.

“Don’t do that, princess, I wanna hear your pretty cries,” he said as he yanked your hair, lifting your head up. He grabbed onto your neck and kissed you as you both loudly moaned into it. He squeezed your neck ever so lightly but tightly as he placed his forehead on yours to look down at where you both meet and become one. He sped up at the sight.

“I bet you love this. I bet you love having Dynamight’s cock deep inside you. Can you feel me? Huh? Feel me in your guts? Feel my big dick deep inside you?” He asked as he looked back at you.

“Y-Yesss! Oh f-fuck...ohhh so big!” Bakugou smiled at your comments and felt you squeeze around him.

“S-shit...you gonna cum? Gonna come on this big dick?” He asked as his hand traveled to you pussy, rubbing at your clit.

“Do it! Do it now, cum on my cock!” You squirted around his cock and Bakugou continued to fuck you through your orgasm and you cried out, and your upper body fell to the mattress. His hands grabbed at your waist as he pounded your pussy. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and bit his bottom lip as he threw his head back moaning out.

“Fuck! Ohh f-fuck, I’m gonna cum. You want my cum princess? Can I fill your pussy with my cum?” He asked while looking down at you. You had little tears poking at the ends of your eyes due to the mass amount of pleasure and Bakugou came at the sight. His thrust stopped as his hips met your ass in a final push, while his cum went deeper into your pussy, filling you to the brim. You both cried out as he finished and he kept himself in there for a little until you both caught your breath. He kissed up your spine to your cheek as he pulled out and layed down next to you.

As he pulled you closer to him he could hear your soft voice.

“A-amazing...Suki.” You said as you nuzzled into his neck. He only smiled as he realized you forgot.

“I hope so, cuz we’re not done teddy bear.” He said while smirking. Your eyes went wide as you looked at him in shock.

“Your punishment. Remember? I want you cumming on my cock a 100 times over. I don’t even want you to be able to walk for the next week.” He said while looking you right in his eyes. You took on his little challenge and straddled his waist before pumping his cock a few times and hovering over it. He watched the whole thing and licked his lips at you.

“Fine then Dynamight,” you said as his hands traveled to your hips. “Show me what you got,” you said as you slammed back down on him releasing cries from both you and him. This was gonna be a fun, long night.

—

After rounds 2, 3, 4, and 5, you both lie on your bed completely fucked out as you held onto each other. Bakugou was contempt as he held you under his chin and thought you were asleep. You were only resting your eyes with a soft smile on your face. Bakugou kissed the top of your head before softly speaking.

“I’m so sorry for everything I said teddy bear. You are the most amazing person in the world. I just don’t want you to be hurt. I wanna protect you for the rest of my life. I love you with my everything and I really want you to officially be mine. When you wake up, I’m gonna tell you all of this.” Bakugou sighed. Now it was your turn to speak.

“You don’t have to wait Suki,” you softly spoke as Bakugou looked down at you in shock. “I already heard it all, and I want to officially be yours too.” You said while looking right at him.

“Heh..I thought you passed out,” he teased.

“Well then I guess you’re not as good as you thought, Dynamight.” You teased back.

“You tryna say I didn’t fuck you good enough princess?! Cuz I still got enough for one more round that’ll be sure to shut your mouth real quick!” You only laughed at his little outburst.

“I’m good Suki. Trust me, you did more than enough.” You said.

“You’re damn right. And by the way you were screaming my name, I’m sure of it.” He proudly stated.

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes and softly spoke. You both gently laughed at the teasing and embraced each other once more, but this time a little tighter.

After a few peaceful moments of silence, you heard him speak up.

“So..you’re being serious about really wanting to be mine..right?” Bakugou asked with worry laced in his voice.

“Of course I’m serious Suki. I don’t wanna be anybody else’s but yours.” You said in the cutest voice. Bakugou blushed at the confession.

“Ok then teddy bear. You’re mine now, and I’m never gonna let you go again.” He whispered. “I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too Suki.”

—

“WHERE WERE YOU?!?? A BANK WAS ROBBED, MULTIPLE PEOPLE WERE MUGGED, AND 2 VILLAIN BRAWLS BROKE OUT ON YOUR PATROL MAN!! ARE YOU GOOD?!?” Red riot screamed into the phone.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. I’m great actually, a lot of good stuff happened on my patrol.” Bakugou said as he drank from his glass of water.

“Dude. Seriously?” The red head said in disbelief. What could possibly make up for all the crimes committed on his best friend’s watch?!

“Seriously. Gotta go, talk to you later shitty hair.” Katsuki said as he hung up the phone. As he finished cooking, he brought two plates of food to the couch for Y/N and himself. He had to carry Y/N there.

“What was all that about?” Y/N asked as she took a sip from her cup and turning away from the trashy reality show you both were watching.

“Just another reason why you’d make a better hero than me, teddy bear.” You awed at the compliment and cuddled into him. If only you knew how serious he was being.

Kirishima would know. For he was the one running around like a mad man trying to stop all the crimes committed due to his best friend being absent thanks to his horny desires.

A/N: YAYYY MY FIRST REQUEST! I really enjoyed writing this one and I’m sorry if it wasn’t exactly what you were looking for. I’m hope you enjoyed it tho! Feel free to drop more request for me to do!💗🧸

P.S. New series coming on the way!

592 notes · View notes

cazimagines · 3 years

Text

Oblivious

Request from anon: Hi, I really enjoy your writing, particularly your Zemo fics! I had an idea for one that basically follows the while y/n joining Sam, Bucky, and Zemo through Madirpoor and Riga. Only despite Zemo’s flirting, y/n doesn’t really do anything about it or even notice until y/n along with Sam and Bucky witness Walker (New Captian America) murder a flag smasher in the street. They all go back to the safe house and y/n is like, in shock. “Captian America just killed someone” is all y/n can really say. And Zemo is able to calm them down. Maybe the romance can start then?

Word count: 3.4k

Author’s note: This one-shot can be multiple parts, if you would like to see a sequel please say! If I do decide to write a sequel though it will take me a while as I’ve had a lot of requests, please check out my master list to see what I have coming up next and if requests are currently open or not

Masterlist

(Please check out my master list to see what I will be writing next and if requests are open or closed)

Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

Heels clicked along the pavement as you sashayed along the road, approaching the men before you, two of which you know fondly. The other one, however... not so much.

They all stood close together in a circle, obviously discussing something important but at hearing your voice call out their heads turn towards you, a smile appearing on Sam and Bucky’s faces as they see you. “Long time no see boys,” you say, stopping a few feet away from them to lean on a wall.

They both walk over to you, Bucky pulling you into and hug then followed by Sam hugging you tightly. “Thank you for agreeing to help us out y/n. I know things haven’t been easy for you,”

You fake a smile at Bucky, one you hoped he wouldn’t see past resting your arm around his shoulder. “Anything for my friends,”

He was right, though. These times haven’t been easy for you, especially after Steve Rodgers left. Captain America had always been your idol, ever since you were a little kid you aspired to be just like him. You collected all the Captain America merchandise along with your brother Phil, always arguing with him who owned which toy of his. Meeting Steve had been a dream come true for you. He was the person you were closest to. He helped you come to terms with your brother’s death and whenever you needed help; he was there. You two stuck together through the thick and thin. That’s was how you got to become good friends with Sam and Bucky. You and Steve have always had a complicated relationship, though. You two liked each other and tried to see if you could be something more, but it never seemed to work out. Then Thanos happened. You, along with half the universe, were dusted. For you it was as if you had simply blinked however for Steve it was five years without you. You barely got to see each other again before he went away for good. You couldn’t hate him for it, you understood why he did what he did. He was always telling you about the ’40s, about his childhood, about her. You just wished you weren’t so connected with him. Seeing him there, old, dying. It broke your heart. But times move on. You can’t live in the past as he did.

Your eyes focus on the man behind Sam and Bucky and you frown, pulling your arm away from Bucky. A man you never thought you would see again was staring right back at you.

He stood a few feet back, knowing he wasn’t welcomed in the warm reunion of friendship. He clasped his hands, unsure what exactly he should do right now, feeling awkward, but as he looked over at you his eyes twinkled with recognition. Now you had been interesting to him. You weren’t a super soldier like Steve and James. Yet you certainly could hold your own against them. He had seen when he had first activated James. No, your strength and fighting abilities were down to your own human powers and he admired that. You were one of the few avengers he might have had an inkling to like if the Sokovia attack never happened. Still, it wasn’t as if you were to blame for it. The people who were to blame had suffered for it. You were merely the pawn in the giant game of chess. Perhaps he could grow to like you, after all, he could admit you were certainly tempting to him, the way your body was shaped excited him, the way your neck was shaped made him want to brush his fingers along it and your piercing eyes felt like they could look into the darkest corners of his soul.

“Why is he out of prison?” you snap, bringing Zemo out of his trance

Sam turns to scowl at Bucky as you all turn to Zemo, who awkwardly smiles. “Bucky thinks we need him,” Sam mutters

“Why would we need him!” you exclaim, crossing your arms and shooting Bucky a glare.

“I am invaluable,” Zemo explains with his hands, his eyes unwavering from you as he answers for Bucky.

“He hates super-soldiers, therefore he will help us in getting to Karli,” Bucky says, stepping in front of your eyesight trying to explain himself.

“That also means he hates you, Buck,”

All of them freeze as you address the elephant in the room. Bucky grits his teeth and steps back, averting your gaze as you and Sam stare expectedly at him but he doesn’t respond so Zemo takes his opportunity to step closer to you, now only a few feet apart.

“I can assure you, getting rid of Karli and her super soldier friends is my priority. Not James,”

You clench your jaw in anger as you look at Zemo. He tilts his head, the side of his lip curling up slightly, hoping you’d take a chance on him. Sighing, you turn to shoot one more look at Bucky.

“Steve wouldn’t have liked this,”

Later you sat across from Zemo on his private jet. All of you sat in uncomfortable silence as you flew to Madripoor. Sam and Bucky did not seem as close as you were to both of them. They both just sat on their respective sides and looked out the window. Zemo had a book on him which he seemed very preoccupied reading, yet there were moments where you could feel his eyes settle upon you. Ignoring his inquisitive gaze, you choose to follow in Bucky and Sam’s lead of looking out the window and daydream the rest of the trip away.

Your mind trails back to Steve. You wondered just what Steve would have thought about you teaming up with Zemo. He would have understood, wouldn’t he? It was the best option you had. Ah, but he had always been such a stickler about the rules. Breaking a criminal out and helping him avoid the law wasn’t very patriotic of you. Yep, he would not have gone through with this plan, he would have found another way that worked. But none of the people here were him. He choose not to be here. You knew you had to let him go.

“Champagne?”

You pull your eyes away from the window, coming back to reality as you see a bottle of champagne in Zemo’s hand and an empty glass in his other hand. He already had another glass full beside him as he looked at you expectantly.

“No,”

“Sure?”

“What part of no do you not understand,” you snap harshly glaring at him then back out to the window

“My apologies,” he says, pursing his lips together as he looks down at the empty glass. He glances over to Sam and Bucky but they both shake their heads as well so he hands the glass and drinks back to his butler and sighs as he opens his book again.

The tension between all of you sticks around as you arrive at Madripoor. Zemo had provided you a tight-fitting dress to ‘appear the part’ of your allice, and it showed off a bit too much of your chest than you liked. It was too bright for you, golden and sparky, cutting off at your upper tight, and had a very low v cut. You try your best to pull it down to cover you some more but to no avail. Begrudgingly, you leave the plane to meet up with the rest of them.

“My my y/n, the dress suits you,” Zemo says, smirking as his eyes trail up and down your body as you walk past him taking a straight beeline towards Sam and Bucky.

“How long will this mission take?” you ask, already feeling the cold air nip at your skin.

“Few hours at the least. I’m sorry that you have to do this, y/n”

“Hey, I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to help you two,” you mutter as you hear a car pulling up behind you

“Not exactly this though,” Bucky grumbles, glowering over at Zemo who motions to the car that had arrived. Zemo opens the door and waits for you to get in however you walk to the other side of the car and get in. Bucky chuckles at Zemo’s annoyed expression as he instead gets into the side, which Zemo held open.

During the mission, Zemo kept getting uncomfortably close to you. Occasionally his hand brushed against your back as he moved past you, or his hand would bump into yours slightly, lingering against yours longer than normal.

You knew why he was doing this. Because of Steve. He knew how close you and Steve were, everyone did. During the fight between Steve and Tony which Zemo had helped cause you stuck by Steve every second. Now that Steve was gone, Zemo was trying to rub that in. Trying to irritate you on purpose. You would not let him get to you.

During the meeting with Selby you stood off to the side with Sam and you were feeling pretty good about yourself that the mission was going well until Sam’s phone rang. You tried to keep cool while also giving Sam the wtf look as to why he didn’t put his phone on silent. You hung out hoping things would go okay, but today wasn’t your day.

Shelby got gunned down in front of you, and the mission was ruined. Running in heels wasn’t ideal, but you had to make do. You followed Sam and Bucky as Zemo split up from you, running off somewhere else. Eventually, you kicked off your heels, believing running barefoot would be better than dealing with the agony of heels.

Finally, meeting back up with Zemo, you were ready to have to fight your way out of this mess, but then someone you didn’t think you would ever see again appeared. Sharon Carter. You two weren’t exactly buddy buddies. You got along for Steve’s sake, but it always felt like a sort of rivalry between you two for his attention.

“Y/n,” she says, finally addressing you

“Sharon,” you say back, feeling the awkwardness seep back in. Sharon didn’t seem bothered however, she even kindly let you have some new clothes and shoes which were much more comfortable than the ones Zemo lent you and more your style.

Walking back into the main room you see Zemo sitting down, once again drinking, Bucky sitting down as far away from Zemo as he could get and Sam standing at the side. You choose to stand by Sam.

“Hey, y/n, you doing okay?” Sam asks as you walk over.

“Better than other days. What are we waiting around for?”

“For Sharon to lead us to a party where she can get the information we need,” Zemo answers for Sam, peeking over at you. You ignore him.

Sharon comes back in and tells all of you not to get in trouble while you are out at the party.

“Trouble,” Zemo jokes, and he once again glances over to you, raising a glass and winking at you as he downs it.

Following Sharon, you head into the party. It was to show off the art pieces she had got a hold of so you thought you might as well look at them as you were unlikely to see any of these genuine pieces again. You could see however Zemo following you. He tried to be sly by checking out the other artworks near you, never exactly where you were, but you could tell because every time you moved to a new place soon enough Zemo would suddenly appear there as well. He leaned into one of the artworks, pretending to study it closely, but the corner of his eyes would flick over to you.

Groaning in frustration at your new stalker, you decide you had to lose him in the crowds. Swaying your body, you enter the dancing crowd and jump along to the music, letting yourself go. You could feel your excitement growing with the crowd as you danced, but with one quick turn around there, you saw him.

Zemo had now entered the crowd and was dancing along to the music as well, pumping his hands in time to it. As you stared at him in disbelief, he notices and takes that as an innovation to dance over to you.

“Dancing is fun, right?” he asks as he claps his hand to the music

“Why are you doing this!” you exclaim glaring at him.

His eyebrows furrow as he looks at you, “I don’t understand what you mean?”

You huff in annoyance and storm away, going to find Sam and Bucky leaving Zemo alone on the dance floor. He watches you go and sighs, moving away from the dance floor. It had been a long time since he last got to socialize with anyone and he was trying with you; he wanted to know you more, but he didn’t want to push you too far either if you were uncomfortable with it.

The next few hours felt like a blur to everyone. Sharon found out where the doctor was and you found out a bit of information before Zemo choose to shoot him. Then the whole place exploded, and you had to fight for your life while Zemo hijacked and car to pick you up. Now you were standing outside the safe house.

Zemo opened up the doors, and with his arm motioned for you to go in first. You roll your eyes at his extravagance and storm in, looking around the place. It was simple, but you could still tell that it was all designer, expensive to Zemo’s tastes. You sit down on the sofa while Zemo instantly gravitates towards the liquor cupboard.

“If you drink so much you won’t have long left to live” you mutter as you watch him pour some whiskey. His head shoots up as he turns sidewards to look at you, raising an eyebrow.

“Concerned about my health now?”

“I’d rather have you not pass out during a mission, at least till you are no longer of use to us then you can drink yourself to death for all I care,”

“Ah concern for the mission, yes you avengers folks are all the same. The mission takes precedence before anything else,” Zemo says, grabbing his glass and walking over to take a seat on the sofa opposite you.

You give him a cold hard stare crossing your arms. “What do you mean by that” you hiss

He tilts his head, smirking as he sees how riled up you were getting. “I’m simply observing that you have to put your mission before human lives. I know from how much I studied Steve-”

“Don’t bring Steve into this!” you exclaim, leaning forward, baring your teeth at him.

Zemo pauses for a moment shocked, he pulls his head back to observe, his mouth slightly ajar as his eyebrows cast down but realization dawns across his face.

“Ah, you and Steve, you two were an item,”

“It wasn’t like that” you murmur, jumping up from the sofa and pacing around the room to try to alleviate the agitation you felt, your nails digging into your arms as you wrapped them around your body in comfort.

“But there was something,” Zemo replies, watching you pace around the room then looking into the glass bitterly, his grip on it tightening.

You turn your back to Zemo to stare at your reflection in the mirror, seeing the tears swell up in your eyes.

“Why are you bringing this up? Why do you keep trying to annoy me Zemo, what purpose are you getting from this apart from some sick sadistic pleasure?”

It was Zemo’s turn to jump up from the sofa, hurt you could ever think so lowly of him, his eyebrows furrowed as he speeds over to you. He stands beside you, getting a lot closer to you than you would like. You turned your head away so he couldn’t see the tears threatening to fall.

“Do you think that bad of me? Y/n we may not have had the best first impression but know that it is never my intention to irritate or upset you,” Zemo says, trying to move even closer to you, but he moves a step too far and you back away.

“Just leave me alone, Zemo” you whisper, then run out of the room to find a bathroom to let everything out.

Zemo watches your form leave, angrily clenching his jaw, knowing he pushed it too far. The vein in his neck twitches as he grabs an ornament by the side of the mirror. Holding it in his hand, he observes the glass figure, a dove, then chucks it into the ground in rage, feeling an inkling of satisfaction at seeing it smash into a thousand pieces. He grabs more ornaments, at that moment not caring how much they each cost, just enjoy the release of anger he felt every time he smashed one.

You could hear the blood in your brain roar through your ears, the feeling of your heart hitting your chest in shock as you stared down at Lemar’s dead body.

Your eyes flicker to John’s who knelt beside him, trying desperately to wake him up, but you knew it was hopeless. Lemar was gone. Your eyes flickered around the rest of the room, Karli and her friend realising how bad they have messed up were already running away from the room. Bucky and Sam looked at each other as if knowing what was to happen. Your eyes finally land on Zemo’s. John had tried to arrest him, but you were able to stop him. Zemo was still useful though you hated to admit it, it wasn’t long however till the Dora Milaje would find him.

You feel a hand brush against your shoulder and snap back into reality, “We need to leave, now,” Zemo whispered in your ear, pulling your arm to make you move.

Gathering your senses, you let Zemo lead you out of the building as you hear a crash from above. Running out into the road, you and Zemo catch up beside Sam and Bucky and watch the disaster unfold.

There was John, in Cap’s uniform, holding Cap’s shield above that man.

Steve.

Steve’s shield.

You feel a scream tear from your lips as you watch John Walker bring the shield down, penetrating the man’s chest, staining it in blood. Tears leak from your eyes as you attempt to rush forward, to try and stop it, but arms grasp onto you, pulling you back.

“NO” you repeatedly cried, trying to worm your way out of the grasp, but they gripped you, refusing to let go. Your knees gave out and you sink to the floor, collapsing in the arms of the person who held you, your head buried in the fur part of their coat as they held you to their chest.

You kept sobbing, shaking as the image replayed over and over in your mind.

“Captain America just killed someone,” you whispered, unable to say anything else. The arms which held you picked you up, quietly shushing you, and carried you down a road, back into the safe house.

They tried to put you on the sofa but you clung to their body, not believing you could survive without their support, so they settle on lying down beside you on the sofa.

They turned you to face their body as their arms draped around you, gently rubbing circles into your back. Burying your head into their chest again, you let the sobs wail out as your chest ached from breathing.

“Captain America just killed someone,” you whisper again to him.

“That wasn’t Steve, y/n, Steve would never do something like that,” he murmured, his accent soothing your nerves.

“But it was his shield Zemo. The very thing I had idolized for so long,”

“A shield which by now no longer belongs to him. He was never Captain America y/n, what we just saw proved that. They will give the shield to someone better,”

You sniff, trying to prevent the snot from coming out of your nose as your bloodshot eyes look up into his, “Really?”

He gently smiles at you, taking his hand off your back to push a strand of hair that was hanging over your eye away.

“Yes, they won’t make the same mistake twice,”

Zemo’s words brought more comfort than you could have ever imagined. His embrace brought you warmth and you could feel yourself slowly stop shaking as he held you. Looking away from Zemo in embarrassment, you instead choose to snuggle your head back into his chest, hearing the rapid beating of his heart which lulled you to sleep.

Tags: @sinister-sleep @cable-kenobi @faustlyaccused @chipster-21 @icarusinstatic @yallgotkik @montypythonsholysnail @bunniwritesx @checkurwindow @huntheimpossible @jayxkelsi @avgravy @prestigious-tea @aloyssiac @hannahbal-the-fannibal @alainabooks143 @jokerprettyprincess @plumsandkiwis @latenightartist-author @e-barba @flutterskies @wonderwoman292 @there-goes-thefighter @multiyfandomgirl40 @freyjasamael @ineffablebean

#zemo x you #baron zemo #helmut zemo #zemo #i love zemo #zemo x y/n #zemo tag #zemo fluff #tfatws #daniel brühl #marvel #mcu

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

The Art of Benefits

➜ Words: 9.8k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Smut, FWB!AU

➜ Summary: There's only one aspect of your life that's missing: sex. But you know yourself. You catch feelings as quickly as you catch colds. But when your friend arranges a meeting with a certain Park Jimin, you'll become inclined to learn the craft of detachment, aka. the art of benefits.

➜ Warning: sex, sexual discussions, toys, sucking dick, period sex, etc.

cr.

[2nd Year Fall Semester] Life as a sophomore wasn’t shabby. Assignments, papers and midterms came and went with decent grades that you eventually forgot about. Lectures, club meetings, and studying took most of your time too. But Christmas was arriving and that meant it was sweater weather. It also meant that snow was dusting from the sky and you were watching couples cozying up and keeping each other warm from across the dining center. It was unfair really. You were cold too. In fact, most of the time you happen to be cold. And while relationships were too much of a time commitment for you to take on, you deserved a cuddle buddy just as much as the next person. Or a fuck buddy. Either works really. You’ve never been opposed to a friends with benefits relationship. The only problem is, it would never work for you. But if you somehow learnt to detach your emotions, it could be the most efficient thing yet. After all, good sex with another warm body was the only aspect in your life that you were missing. “I mean it’s possible. A lot of people start friends with benefits relationships on campus,” Wendy says as she stuffs her face with her sub sandwich and muses mid-chew, “There’s actually a lot of candidates to choose from.” You’re exasperated at her nonchalance. As if it’s as easy as going to the supermarket and picking someone up. “Who?!” You need someone who would be on the same page as you, with the same priorities, a good sex partner who wouldn’t catch feelings either. But frankly, you don’t know that many people. “Well, what about that guy from your class that you were crushing on? Didn’t you say he was super smart? Might help you on your assignments too.” “Namjoon?” You shake your head. “He’s got a girlfriend.” “Okay. What about that older guy in your board games club?” “No. Seokjin’s graduating next semester.” Wendy hums, eyes flickering around the dining hall center as she contemplates. “How about Yoongi? From what you’ve told me, he seems pretty cool.” You loll your head to one side and stab your sweet and sour chicken. “I’m not going to sleep with someone from work. That sounds like a disaster waiting.” “Jungkook?” “That’s weird. We went to the same elementary school together.” You can still remember his bowl cut hair as clear as day, and not to mention, the two of you share a group of friends. If things go downhill, it would be a complete mess. The epitome of inefficiency. Which is counterproductive to your goal. “Taehyung?” At this point, Wendy’s just listing out random people that you know, but you play along just for amusement. “Nah. Yena has a crush on him.” She takes another clean bite of her sandwich. “What about that guy that works at that McDonalds that you find cute. What’s his name? Hugo? Howard?” “Hoseok,” you correct with a feigned glare that makes her smile. “And that’s a big fat no. He doesn’t even know I exist. What am I supposed to do? Waltz up to him and ask to be fuck buddies?” She grins. “Well, I mean—” “It wouldn’t work,” you deadpan before she laughs and in turn, makes you giggle too. The chatter of the room settles in your ears as background noise. You gaze out the window to the sparkling snow piles that reflect the lampposts soft, white light. The sun has long fallen even though it’s only six p.m. The low lights peeking through the somber clouds covering the horizon does little. You dread the thought of having to venture out into the cold and catch the bus home. You don’t notice how Wendy’s looking at you while she sips on her water. Not until she hums. “You know what? I know someone I could hook you up with.” Your brow cocks and the corner of your mouth twitches. “Is he a fuckboy?” Your long time friend shrugs with a glint in her eyes that makes you unsure if she’s serious or not. Wendy once joked that she had a boyfriend from Northern Canada and convinced you hard enough that you legitimately believed her for a good month. So you can never be quite certain when it comes to her. For all you know, she could just be making it up to entertain you. “Sort of, but he’s a nice one.” Wendy stays vague. “He was my lab partner.” You stare at her and when her expression remains blank, you scoff. “Sure, sure,” you draw out the syllables with a small laugh and bat the air with your hand just to end the conversation. And when it’s never discussed again, Wendy moving on to tell you a story about something she suddenly remembers, you’d one day come to realize that was a terrible, terrible mistake. // That one day is now. 3:50pm. Wendy: hey i set up a meeting what that guy 3:50pm. Wendy: third floor library 3:50pm. Wendy: he’s in a red hat btw The text comes right when you’re leaving your last lecture of the day. 3:51pm. Y/N: what guy 3:53pm. Wendy: your future fwb 3:53pm. Y/N: ?????????????????????????????????/ 3:53pm. Y/N: ???????????????? 3:54pm. Y/N: wtf i wasn’t SERIOUS 3:54pm. Wendy: wat 3:54pm. Y/N: I THOUGHT YOU WERE JOKING 3:56pm. Wendy: lmao too late 3:56pm. Wendy: at least meet him he’s waiting sis 3:54pm. Y/N: can’t you cancel????????? 3:57pm. Wendy: n a h You nearly burst an artery in your temple at the emojis and memes she spams to you. 3:59pm. Wendy: I already told him the gist btw 4:00pm. Wendy: don’t chicken out With no other choice, you make a u-turn and head towards the library with too many thoughts swirling inside your brain. Chances are this stranger is going to see you, think you’re ugly as shit and try to back out of it. It’s going to be awkward as all hell and you’re not sure you’re ready to have this traumatizing memory for the rest of your life. Then again, you wonder how Wendy even convinced this dude to meet up. If he’s really that easy going. If this is a typical thing people do now. Or maybe Wendy showed a picture of you on your insta and he agreed afterwards — it wouldn’t be the first time she did that, much to your embarrassment. But you hope it’s the latter case. At least that eliminates the possibility of him trying to backpedal his way out of it after seeing your face. You also wonder how the hell you’re going to find him. The library is full of students, the rowdy ones and the studious ones being disturbed by them. You wonder what he looks like, what he’ll be like. Third floor. Male. Red hat. You arrive at the appropriate floor and begin scanning the premise, walking around as your eyes sweep the area. Almost immediately you catch a brunette hunched over and on his phone by the table. He’s wearing a red cap on backwards, purple tee shirt. He has a frat boy aesthetic. Not really the type you go for. Looking over him, you round the computers, bookshelves and tables. But finding no one else with a red hat on the third floor, you sharply inhale and approach the boy with his fluffy cheek rested in his hand, arm propped up on the table lazily. Scrolling through his phone. “Excuse me.” Your voice is light and hesitant as if you were asking help from someone at the front desk and not seeing if this was a potential fuck buddy. It’s mortifying to say the least. His head lifts, brown eyes catching the lights. You clear your throat. “Wendy…” “Oh. You’re her, right?” He smiles and thankfully, doesn’t seem to be disappointed. “Wendy’s friend?” “Yeah. I’m Y/N.” “Jimin.” Now that you get a closer look, he’s kind of cute. But you don’t dwell. Or look him in the eye. It feels like a job interview. But worse. “You were Wendy’s lab partner?” “That’s me.” He pockets his phone. “I’m a kines major. You?” “I’m in the arts faculty. Political science.” “Cool, cool.” Jimin nods and then gets to business without any shame, “So Wendy already told me about it. You’re looking to have a friends with benefits relationship?” “Yeah….about that….” “I’m down if you are.” His hand opens up, gesturing to you. You’re not sure how you feel about how laid-back he is, but he remains upfront which you suppose is the right thing to do. “I have a dorm room in the Sierra building by the engineering faculty building if you know where that is.” “I’ve walked past it before.” “Cool. Anyway, my last f.w.b. ended two months ago and I kind of miss it,” he quickly clarifies, “The sex, I mean.” You’re speechless and contemplating if you really want to do this. You know if it works out, it’ll be fairly efficient. You’ve always gotten off by yourself and while it works, it’s not something you’d call completely satisfying. Having someone’s help— good help — is a change you’ve been considering. But a friends with benefits situation has always been one of those ‘what if’ scenarios. You've just never had an opportunity like this to make it actually happen. Jimin senses your hesitance and leans forward. He lowers his volume. “Are you a virgin? Cause I’m cool with—” You scoff. “No. I’m not. I just...haven’t done something like this before.” “Friends with benefits?” His question is answered by your body language. “It’s not bad. Safer than one night stands and more consistent too. You don’t have to go out and find someone every time you want to have sex. And it’s a low level commitment.” The corner of your mouth pulls and you agree. “It’s efficient. But...I need time to think about it.” “Sure. Tell me when you make up your mind. I’ll give you my number.” He opens his hand again and you pass him your phone. He quickly types it in. “Take your time.” // And you do. You weigh the pros and cons against each other, considering every possibility and all the consequences. Part of you wants to just go for it. The same part that once decided in high school at midnight that bangs would be a hot look on you. (It wasn’t). The part of you that dyed your hair blue that one summer on a whim. The part that doesn’t want to think and wants to jump head first into things. Jimin made a lot of good pointers too and you’re certain this would be a good outlet. An experience. It helps that he’s quite attractive too and seems to be trustworthy and rational. Yet, part of you wonders if it would be a bad decision. There’s a chance that you might catch feelings. For you, it wouldn’t be unheard of either. You have a tendency to catch feelings as fast as you catch colds. And you already know that’s the demise of these kinds of relationships. Once a party gets involved too deep, it’s game over. There’s nothing but heartbreak. The only way it would work is if you minimize your interactions with him. The less attached you are, the less likely you are to develop feelings for him since the only way you would like anyone is if you knew them. So the less you know, the better the outcome. It’s an equation. It’s the art of the benefits. And if that works, if you master the art, it would solve every potential issue. The dorms for sophomores are bigger than the ones for first year freshmen. Instead of a single room with two beds on either side by the walls, there are private bedrooms with just a shared bathroom, a main living space and kitchen. “Bathrooms are over here,” Jimin gestures. There’s one room at the end of the hall and another one beside his. “Both my roommates are out, so you don’t have to worry. They’re pretty nice.” You feel awkward lingering at the entryway with your backpack on. You clear your throat. “Can I get a drink?” “Oh yeah. There’s new water bottles by the sink, I think, and there’s orange juice in the fridge if you’d like.” “No, I mean, do you have anything alcoholic?” you correct and he blinks at you owlishly before smiling. You drop your bag and find it in the fridge, a whole vodka bottle. You fill a shot up with a glass on the drying rack. The clear liquid burns as it travels to the back of your throat. The bitter taste nearly makes you gag, but you feel your face warm and you ease even more, knowing it works. In the meanwhile, Jimin studies you, standing from across the kitchen island. His hands are casually dug into the pockets of his gray sweats. “We won’t have to follow through with this, you know. I’m fine either way.” “No,” you quickly refute, irrationally afraid he’s changed his mind. And the words spill out of you as you cringe, “I’m horny as shit, I’mjustnervous.” The guy smiles, eyes slightly crinkled when he does so. “Of what?” “A lot of things.” You don’t pour a second shot even though you kind of want to. But you have things to do tomorrow, so you can’t nurse a hangover and you most certainly don’t want to be drunk while doing this. “If you didn’t notice, I don’t do this often.” While you’re at it, you tell him, “I don’t know how to suck dick.” He leans against the counter, grinning. “Okay. I don’t mind.” “Also, if you haven’t noticed either, my ass is kind of deflated.” Jimin shrugs. “I’m more of a boob man anyway.” You narrow your eyes, not sure if he’s lying or trying to make you feel better. But there’s no time to dwell when he seriously asks— “Do you still want to do this?” It takes a second for you to muster your courage. And once you do, you know you won’t back down. “All right. Let’s do this!” You walk into his room like you’re about to go fight off a monster. Behind you, Jimin grins and it takes a good moment for him to calm you down. “Are you okay with kissing?” he asks, door shut and distance closed. He’s intimately close and you nod. Finally, your brain stops overthinking and you let yourself feel. Jimin’s lips are full and plush, and they’re good against yours. The soft smacking fills his room. The two of you kiss until your lips part and he begins to lick into your mouth, tongue entering without much hesitation. You fall back onto the mattress, noticing that the bed’s been made sloppily, but better than your own. The pair of you keep kissing and he hovers over you, capturing you against the sheets. Pathetically enough, you already begin to feel your center throbbing and it’s a relief when you both get rid of your clothes. He doesn’t talk much — doesn’t give much commentary or even dirty talk. But you don’t mind. All you’re offering after all is soft sighs and quiet moans. Jimin squeezes your breasts and fingers you for a good minute. He’s surprised to see how wet you are, even letting out an ‘oh shit’, but you make no efforts to come up with an excuse. The stretch feels good from his thick fingers, but you bet it’ll feel good around his girthy cock too. He goes to grab a condom from his drawer, but pauses. “Do...you want me to eat you out?” “I’m good,” you politely decline, afraid it might be too intimate. You’re not sure where the lines are drawn, but it’s something you’ll have to gauge while you go. “Do you want me to suck your dick? You might have to teach me though.” The corner of his mouth tugs. “I’m good too.” As Jimin rips open the condom package, you turn yourself around and get onto all fours. He doesn’t protest and when he enters you, it feels good enough for you to fall forward into the pillows. His cock is of average size, but he’s girthy and your cunt stretches to accommodate him. He groans in his throat when you clench — and the sound gets you off, making you squeeze again. Jimin pounds into you, his pelvis hitting the meat of your ass, cock drawing in and out against your tight, warm walls. You do your best to meet his thrusts halfway, jerking your hips back and you stifle your moans with your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. The sloppy sounds of slapping and the creaking of his bed makes you glad his roommates are gone. And while the sex is not mind-blowing per se, it’s still good. Enough that you climax once he rubs your clit several times and he unloads into the condom too. It’s easier than you thought it would be. Not a big deal whatsoever. It took ten minutes in total and it felt good. It’s just sex — and that’s exactly it. Just sex. The very lesson of the art of benefits. You pick up your clothes off the floor, slipping them back on. “I gotta get going.” There’s no snuggling, no cuddling, no pillow talks. And it doesn’t seem like he minds whatsoever. “‘Kay.” Jimin picks up his phone off his bedside table to check his texts and waves goodbye without even looking at you. You leave, walking yourself out and humming as you stride down the hall. You’re glad you went through with it.

[2nd Year Winter Semester] You run there with your sandwich stuffed in your cheek. By the time Jimin opens the door, you’re still chewing while panting. It’s a comical sight by the way he smiles at you. You’re already winded before anything’s started. “I hadn’t eaten yet and I needed to get my blood sugar up.” Jimin’s lips are quirked. “We can always eat beforehand, you know. There’s food in the fridge.” “Nah, I’m good.” Having meals with your friends with benefits is the last thing on your mind. He shrugs. “Suit yourself.” You use his bathroom, releasing your bladder and rinsing your mouth thoroughly. You know yourself and you’re not a novice on how these relationships work. The less interaction and knowledge you have about him, the more you can keep your distance. “G-God,” he exhales shakingly, hand fisted in your hair. “You’re getting b-better at this….” Jimin watches through heavy lids as you’re slobbering over his cock. He tries his best to watch, but when you run your tongue over the weeping slit at the bulborous head, his eyes shut and his head naturally knocks back. You’ve gotten better at a lot of things in the few months that have passed, namely sucking dick, but your jaw aches and you wonder when he’s going to cum. It’s worth it though. You might be the one kneeling in front of him, but you feel powerful. It’s too easy to make him crumble. To make him moan like that. It makes you wet to hear him and knowing you could bite off his dick or make him lose a load, the sheer power eggs you on. Like you were taught, you inhale, ease your muscles and take Jimin as far as you can. He chokes as his cock hits the back of your throat. Your gag reflexes threaten your endeavour but you keep them at bay and Jimin’s hand in your hair tightens. Especially when you swallow. “Fuck. I-I’m going to cum.” Thank god. Finally! Usually, you let off so he can cum elsewhere (god forbid in your hair) or if he accidentally does it in your mouth, you spit it out on tissue. But this time, you made a commitment to yourself. You came here with a goal. So you inhale again and deep throat him, sucking as much as you can. With his curly pubic hair grazing your nose, Jimin cums. His groans staccato. His cock twitches. And you swallow the bitter, white fluid that comes out in ribbons. After a few seconds, you finally withdraw. Jimin opens his eyes, staring at you in wonderment. There are strands of saliva from between his softened cock to your lips and you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “Not gonna lie.” You clear your throat and swallow down the remaining taste. “That’s really nasty.” Jimin bursts out laughing. “Thanks.” “It’s the least I can do.” You stand up, shaking your left leg awake. It feels like pins and needles when you step around. “I’ve sat on your face like twice already.” You toss Jimin his pants off the ground and you get your cardigan back on. “You wanna come over on Friday?” “Uh…” You grab your phone from your jacket that’s also been discarded and check your calendar. “Sorry. Can’t. I’m busy on that day.” His brows raise, but he doesn’t question it. “How about Saturday?” you offer. “No. I have a kines exam scheduled.” Your face twists in disgust. “On a Saturday?” “Yep. I know. It sucks.” You sympathize, but you’re also surprised. “I didn’t know you were a kines major.” “What? I thought I told you.” “Guess I forgot.” You put yourself back together and a thought strikes you. Your eyes light up and you turn to your friend with glittering eyes. “Does that mean you can crack bones? I’ve always wanted to go to a chiropractor since my lower back always hurts. You should crack it for me.” Jimin grins. “Sorry, I don’t know how to do that. They don’t really teach you that kind of stuff.” “Oh.” Your eyes dim and you don’t try to hide your disappointment. You almost thought you could get a little more out of him, but you suppose decent sex is enough. As you grab your bag, you notice that his phone lights up. “You got a text from Victoria.” “Thanks.” He reaches over, but the curious expression on your face must be visible, since he says, “Don’t worry. She’s not my girlfriend or anything. She’s just someone I’m kind of into.” “Nice!” The corner of Jimin’s mouth quirks at your genuinely excited response even though he never looks away from the screen. You’re psyched though. If he has an interest in someone else, there’s less chance for anyone to catch feelings. Fewer connections. More distance. “If you ever want to end this, just let me know.” You throw your backpack on that’s heavy with your laptop and textbooks inside. “Yeah.” “I’m going now.” “Bye.” Jimin’s fingers fly across the screen to text the other girl back and neither of you spare each other a glance. The door shuts moments later and the noise echoes through the walls.

[3rd Year Fall Semester] In spite of being a junior now, things have relatively remained the same. According to course outlines, lectures are more in-depth in their content, but there’s still assignments, papers, and midterms. The grading schemes haven’t changed and you know there’s a shit ton of work waiting for you in the coming months. But you find pleasure wherever you can. The door opens, but it’s not Jimin on the other side. “Hey, Y/N.” Taemin, his roommate, is eating chips. “He’s in his room.” “Thanks.” You shuffle inside and after briefly greeting Jongin, the other roommate, who’s busy playing Animal Crossing on the living room couch, you beeline to his room. You find Jimin hunched over his messy desk, rounded spectacles on the bridge of his nose as he’s tapping furiously across his laptop keyboard. He glances at you. “Sorry. I need a second.” “Take your time.” You set down your bag and shed your coat, tossing it aside. You’re not sure what he’s doing, but you don’t ask. Instead, you pull out your phone and run through your usual apps. With no messages to answer or anything to scroll through, you check your email and find the words ‘emergency’ in one of the subject lines. After a minute, Jimin saves his document and closes the lid of his laptop. He stretches above his head with a groan and turns around, only to find you now hunched over your own device. “Sorry,” you mutter once you feel his gaze on you. “My manager needs me to fill out my timesheet and send it to her.” “I didn’t know you worked.” “Just part-time at the admissions office here on campus.” You go quiet as you skim over your email again to ensure it makes sense. “It’s a pretty easy gig.” He hums and you finish, shutting your laptop and sticking it back into your bag. That’s when you finally get a good look at the boy across the room — dark hair, blue shirt and gray sweats — and you notice how tan he’s gotten. It’s a good look. Your mouth tugs. “Did you travel over the summer?” “I went to the Caribbean with my family for like two weeks.” “Fancy.” “It was alright.” He gets up and re-stacks the textbooks on his desk into a single pile. Jimin notices the stack of flyers he was supposed to distribute. “Oh yeah. Do you want to join the crayon club?” Your brow lifts. “The crayon club?” “Yeah, you can come colour every Wednesday night and just hang out with people.” Jimin grins boyishly. “My friend wanted to make a club and he made me the communications executive. I’m supposed to get people to join. You don’t have to, but the first meet and greet is this Friday, and the more people the better. There’s gonna be free food by the way, if that helps.” You’re not sure that's a good idea. The two of you have never really met up outside of his dormitory, aside from the first time you met at the library. “Let me check my calendar.” You grab your phone again and thoughtlessly mumble, “Sometimes I’m busy on Friday. I’m part of the board games club and we meet up every other week…..don’t judge.” “I’m not.” Still, Jimin's smile widens and you feign a pout. You’re free this week. “I’ll come if you make me an executive too,” you quip carelessly while tossing your phone aside. “It’ll look good on my law application.” Jimin quirks his head. He didn’t know you were aiming for law school. “Okay.” “Wait.” You’re taken off guard, eyes as wide as saucers. “Seriously?!” He with a small laugh. Jimin gets up and closes the distance, making you lean against the headboard until he’s completely hovering over you, mere inches away. “We actually need a position filled anyway, so you just saved me some trouble.” “You better keep your promise, Park.” You end up showing with Wendy and Tiffany in tow — the former who wants to raid whatever food there is and the latter genuinely interested in colouring as a means of relaxation. It’s a bit awkward to meet so many new people at once and Jimin’s friends at that, but you can tell they’re nice at heart. Albeit, a bit rambunctious and too friendly. And you’re a bit horrified when one of them tries to eat a crayon to further advertise the club. “So, what’s up with you and Jimin?” Tiffany asks, peering up at you as she colours in the lines carefully. She’s unaware of your arrangement with the boy. It’s not something you’ve told many. You feign ignorance, not wanting to get into the details with strangers around. “What do you mean?” “Are you dating him?” You scoff. “I wish.” Immediately, Wendy’s brows raise to her hairline and the words that fumbled out of you thoughtlessly finally sink in. “I mean, no, we’re not. Not I wish.” Luckily, Tiffany spares you and doesn’t pry. But you’re mortified and you glance at Jimin from across the room laughing noisily with his friend. You turn away from him, trying to create more distance.

[3rd Year Winter Semester] With exam season here, you and Jimin hadn’t seen each other in a while. Luckily, Spring break was approaching, so you at least had something to look forward to. The idea of being able to lay in bed and sleep in automatically puts you in a good mood. Jimin, however, seems less than stoked. You watch from the bed as he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up before you’ve gotten a chance to. He was frowning when he opened the door, greeted you with one word and in general, has been quieter than usual. “Is….everything alright?” You wonder if you did something to piss him off, but then he says— “I flunked my final.” Oh. That explains his bad mood. “The one you took this morning?” you ask. “Yeah.” Jimin deflates with an extended sigh. “I didn’t get the first twenty questions and then I fucking ran out of time….” There’s a pause that lingers. “Well, you’re not sure if you actually failed, right?” You lean closer to him, quirking your head to the side. “The marks haven’t been released and who knows, the prof might curve it.” “Maybe. I don’t know.” Jimin scrubs a hand over his face, uncertain and stressed. “This ruins everything. I’m trying to get an internship at a clinical rehabilitation facility and I want to apply for a masters and now...fuck.” You’re surprised. You didn’t know he had so many goals. “I’m screwed.” Jimin flops back onto his mattress, staring at the ceiling. You loom over him, blocking his view. “Does the internship look at your GPA?” “They want a three point o average or more.” “What do you have now?” “Three point five.” The corner of your mouth pulls and a rush of air leaves your nose in a snort. “Then you’ll make it! Even if you failed one exam, it wouldn’t tank past a three. It can’t be too bad, right?” “Yeah, I guess.” Jimin sighs and absentmindedly tugs on your strand of hair that’s fallen in front of your face and is grazing against his cheek. “I just don’t know anymore.” “It’s going to be fine,” you reassure, slapping your hand on his shoulder. “You’re just overthinking it.” “Maybe,” he hums. A sudden thought comes across your mind and your small smile turns devious. “Let me make you feel better.” You shift to straddle his hips and instantly, his hands lift to your waist. Jimin starts to grin as you pull at his shirt, trying to get him to strip. And you do your best to pleasure him. It doesn’t take much effort considering Jimin’s hand is already tightening in your hair the minute you run your tongue along his shaft. But he doesn’t let you suck him for too long, eager to feel you inside instead and pleasure you just the same. It’s eager and messy sex. You’re on top until your thighs begin to burn and you lose your pace. Then he re-repositions the both of you, so you’re flat on your back and he’s doing most of the work. You end up cumming twice. Once around his covered cock and the other time after he coaxes you around his stiff tongue and eggs you on, even when you’re sobbing from the overstimulation. It feels good. Better than good. Over time, the pair of you have gotten to know each other’s bodies better, what works and what doesn’t. Your relationship with Jimin is an investment that feels worth it. “Hey…” You’re both facing away from each other as you put your clothes back on. Jimin turns his head and you cast him a glance. “I was thinking of maybe starting birth control…” He blinks. “If you go get yourself checked out and make sure you’re clean, we can do it without condoms.” You pull down your sweater over your head and you both stare at each other. He looks surprised and responds in a delayed manner, “Okay. Cool. I’m down. I’ll get myself checked out this weekend. I haven’t really slept with anyone else since this started though.” It’s your turn to be caught off guard. “Really? What...about that girl you were into? Vicky?” “You mean Victoria?” He jumps as he puts on his sweatpants, getting both legs through at once. “Nah. It didn’t end up working out.” “Oh.” He’s entirely nonchalant about it, so you merely nod. Jimin walks you to the door and you notice that he’s in a better mood than earlier. You hide your smile to yourself, glad that it was mutually beneficial. Two weeks later, he gets an email before the two of you get down and dirty, and you’re the first one in his life to know that he got the summer internship. His excitement is infectious and you genuinely feel happy for him.

[4th Year Fall Semester] It’s so close, you can taste it. A whole new semester and cart of overpriced textbooks later meant you were a senior now. It also meant that there was just this year left and you were out of here. Finished at least one degree. A step closer to making the big bucks and being a whole ass adult. The idea is both exhilarating and frightening. 2:20pm. Jimin: Wanna come over? The text mocks you, but the temptation is tangible. Like a carrot tied at the end of a stick that’s attached to a hungry rabbit. You’ve been sexually frustrated since last night, feeling it in your loins since morning, and fidgeting and rubbing your thighs underneath tables and desks. The thought of getting that sweet relief properly is enough for you to want to ditch class altogether, but you can’t. Not for the next few days. 2:22pm. Y/N: can’t. 2:22pm. Y/N: I’m on my period :(( 2:23pm. Jimin: I don’t mind 2:23pm. Y/N: really???? 2:24pm. Y/N: are you sure 2:25pm. Jimin: lmao 2:25pm. Jimin: yes You brace through the rest of the lecture, paying more attention as the anticipation swells. And when it’s all over, you race across campus to the dormitory building you’ve become familiar with. Jimin opens the door before you need to knock and he plants a chaste kiss against your lips in greeting. You’re taken off guard, but don’t pay too much attention to it. “How was class?” “Good. You?” “Same,” he hums. You drop your bag in his room and gesture below your waist. “I’m going to need to wash up. The nether regions are a bit…” He smiles. “Sure. I got spare towels I can set down too.” You self-consciously linger for a moment as he goes to his closet to the upper shelf. The towels are luckily green and not white. “I’m surprised you’re okay with it. Having period sex, I mean.” “Why wouldn’t I be?” Jimin pushes his blanket aside and puts a towel down. “As long as you’re fine with it, then I am too.” “I don’t know. Doesn’t blood gross you out?” “Not really? Most of the time I’m the one making the mess, so it’s actually nice to have someone else make the mess for once. Plus sex is sex. What’s there to complain about?” His brow lifts and he looks at you. You scoff and it makes Jimin grin. You wash yourself up and he fucks you in missionary position on top of the towels. The pair of you have only done so a few times before. Typically, you’re face down, bent over, on all fours or looking away from each other. But the change is welcome. Jimin hovers over you and you can kiss him when you want to. “F-Fuck.” A pitched moan unintentionally spills from you when he hits a spot at your walls that has your toes curling. “Ji...min.” It’s more lubricated than usual, making the strokes easier. He goes softer too. Deeper. Jimin presses your thighs to your chest and makes you feel him all the way to your throat. The boy smiles tenderly at your reaction in spite of panting himself. “Feel good, baby?” “Y-Yeah.” You nod, eyes shut tight. You grip his forearms when he bottoms out again. “Always does.” Your warm walls pulse around his thick cock and you end up cumming soon after. He groans into your neck at how you tighten around him like a vice grip and he thrusts into you one more time before his cum fills you. The pair of you jump in the shower together to get cleaned up and then you’re picking up your clothes while he tosses the towels in the laundry. “What were you working on, on Thursday?” You blink, realizing that you texted him vaguely about being swamped and unable to come over, and that’s enough for you to unload and go on a tangent. “God, don’t remind me. It was my fucking thesis. I barely managed to finish it but I don’t even know if it makes sense and now I have to edit like fifty pages by myself before giving it to my supervisor, so that’s fun.” It feels good to let it off your chest. Jimin smiles subtly at your venting. “I could always edit it for you.” “What? Seriously?” “Sure.” He shrugs. “I’m not in poly sci, but that might make me a bit more unbiased. I’m not doing much these days either.” “Oh my god.” There’s an overpowering urge to bow at his feet or suck his dick until you’re gagging or do both. “You’re a life-saver!” Jimin laughs and it’s the sound of angels singing. “Just send it over. I can get it done by tomorrow. You have my email, right?” “Of course I do. Duh!” Your grin is big enough that your cheeks hurt and he has one that matches it as well. // A few weeks fly by and things calm down enough that you can finally breathe. But that’s when you receive a little text from a certain someone that has you skeptical if you can rest easy. 6:48pm. Jimin: I have a surprise for you 6:48pm. Jimin: I forgot about it You’re not sure what it is, but asking would be like pulling teeth with him. Jimin hates spoilers and he likes surprises all too much. Lately, you’ve both been getting into some freaky shit. Buying toys, blindfolds, handcuffs. As adventurous as college kids with a limited budget can get. It was rather fun for the pair of you, and expectedly, some experiments work out better than others. It sends goosebumps all over your skin every time he talks dirty. You like it when Jimin spanks you too. Although, you’re still unsure about the whole candle wax on your body idea. But there’s one thing for sure — Jimin can most definitely not role play for his life. The whole school girl fantasy lasted a good five minutes before he started bursting into giggles and breaking character every other second. Playing doctor only made you realize how ticklish he was too. And the tickle fight that followed was definitely not something one would call ‘sexy’. Even if it did lead to the deed being done. “Hey.” Jimin greets you with a grin and a chaste peck against your lips. “How was studying?” “Fine.” You brush off the question quickly, too curious of what he has in store. “Jimin, I’m not going to use that twelve inch dildo unless you want to drive me to the ER.” He bursts out laughing. “That’s not it. Good try though.” Instead of going to his room like you usually do, Jimin leads you past the kitchen area to the table. It’s been cleared off and you give an inquisitive expression. He grins and then gestures to it. “Lay down.” “What?” “Just lay down.” He takes your hand, guiding you on it and you obey wordlessly. It doesn’t seem like any of his roommates are home and you hope they don’t come back any time soon lest they find you lying face down on their dinner table. You feel Jimin round the table and pull your ankles together. You tilt yourself up to peek at him, but then he barks— “Down.” With a pout, you return to your position, arms folded underneath your head. You hope he isn’t about to rub spices on you and roast you in his oven like it feels like he’s doing. You feel the gentle pressure of Jimin’s hands against your spine, his thumbs pressing into your skin and he hums, “Relax. Okay. Breathe in for me.” An inhale is taken and his hands suddenly press into the middle of your back. You hear your bones crack loudly. It catches you off guard and you turn yourself with wide eyes. “You know how to do it?!” He boyishly grins. “I might’ve learnt a thing or two during my internship.” “Keep going, keep going.” You flip yourself over again, gesturing to your back and he laughs, going down your body and cracking your bones. You become butter in his fingertips, lower back feeling better already. “Lift your leg for me.” You follow his instructions to a t. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” you ask sleepily, lulled by his care. If he massaged you too, you might just cream your pants. “I got this, I got this,” he reassures with a bit of arrogance. “I’m not a professional, but I know what I’m doing. You trust me, right?” A noise is made at the back of your throat. “If you break a bone on accident, I’ll sue you,” you mumble as he turns you over. “God, feels good.” After a while, Jimin gets you to sit up and continues. He looks nice when he’s concentrating. Expression blank. Lips plump and in a line. Brows only slightly furrowed. “Considering you don’t have any ailments, you don’t need to get your bones cracked often. You should stretch and do some exercise instead.” You scoff. “Having sex with you is enough exercise.” To prove your point, you latch onto his arm and tug him towards you. Jimin smiles and the two of you break a sweat against each other on the table before either of his roommates come home.

[4th Year Winter Semester] It was an invitation that you would’ve called yourself crazy for offering a year ago. But if it wasn’t for him editing your thesis and taking a load off your mind, you would’ve had a harder time. You had him to thank for that. “So?” Jimin’s seated across from you at the restaurant booth. It wasn’t surprisingly difficult to ask him to grab a bite with you. For some reason, you thought he would reject. “What’s the big news?” Instead of answering, you reach into your bag and slide the envelope across the table. He’s curious and takes it, pulling out the letter to read. You sip on your water, watching his expression intently. He mutters the words and it takes him through the first paragraph before he realizes. Then, at once, Jimin’s eyes widen. His mouth drops and he looks at you proudly. “You got into law school?” “Three of them,” you tell with a cheesy grin. “T-That’s….fucking amazing. Holy fuck.” He reaches over and hugs you. It’s awkward considering there’s a whole table in the way, but you appreciate the sentiment. You’re giddy and giggling at how excited he is. It makes you feel like the first time you opened the letter yourself. Jimin presses a kiss against your hair before withdrawing. “When did you find out?” “Two days ago. I really thought I wasn’t going to get in since I got rejection letters last week from the other schools, but then three of them came in rapid succession.” He shakes his head, still in awe. “Congratulations. Seriously. You deserve it, Y/N. God knows how hard you worked.” “Thanks.” You smile to yourself, fiddling with the hem of your blouse. “I was thinking of maybe leaving the city to a different uni, but….I’m going to stay with my parents for as long as I can to save up on loans.” “Yeah, sounds good.” He nods. “Moving out can be expensive.” “What about you? Have you applied to your masters program yet?” Jimin laughs. “Actually, I was planning on telling you that today too. I didn’t bring any fancy letter with me though.” You lean closer, sitting on the edge of your seat. “You got in?” “I did. Yesterday.” His enormous smile causes your own to expand. “I’m gonna do it part-time while working at the same facility I did my internship at.” You’re happy for him and you can tell by his expression that he’s genuinely excited for you too. The pair of you were taking steps forward for your future and while it was a little scary, for now, you enjoy the victory and pig out at the restaurant with little restraints. At the end of the night, you’re both wine drunk when you stumble back to his dorm room and soon, you’re trying to muffle your whimpers with your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. It doesn’t help when he presses the humming vibrator to your clit harder. “J-Jimin,” you sob, fingers twisting into his sheets. You’re slumped against the headboard as he surrounds you. “Louder,” he commands, watching you through heavy lidded eyes. The cold air of his bedroom made your nipples hardened, yet you feel hot all over, under his gaze and ruthlessness. Your hand curls around his wrist. “Your roommates are sleep—” You cry and keen against his chest when he plunges the toy into your swollen cunt that’s leaking down your ass and thighs. “It’s okay,” he murmurs in a low voice against your ear, “Let it go.” You feel the toy nudge against your cervix, the vibrations trembling through your body and you orgasm hard with your forehead pressed against Jimin’s shoulder. Even then, he continues to draw it in and out of you, studying how you’ve creamed around the vibrator, how your slick is dripping to his sheets that are already stained with the scent of your shampoo. “J-Jimin,” you whine loudly, not knowing if you’re trying to lean away from his touch or closer. “T-...too m-much!” “You can take it,” Jimin softly coaxes and you nod. You cum again after a minute and he immediately kisses you with a big smile before peppering pecks down to your neck. It makes you feel ticklish and winded. “Hey...Jimin…” “Hmm?” “Are we still gonna do this after we graduate?” you ask in a quiet voice, laying back in the ruined sheets. “I’m gonna be busy and you are too.” “We’ll figure it out.” He flops beside you and you both face each other. Jimin’s arm is draped over your waist and you stare at one another for a moment before he closes the distance. Jimin nudges you for a languid kiss, your noses brushing as his soft, plush lips press against yours. It’s unhurried. Slow. He urges your mouth to part for him and his tongue slips in as you whimper, giving you a chance to properly taste him. Sloppy, wet noises fill the room while heat rises to your cheeks. But you’re unbothered while swapping spit with Park Jimin. It’s lazy, yet it feels good. So much so that you’ve relaxed entirely. In the back of your mind, you know you should get up and put some clothes on. Any cuddling or post-sex touching has largely been unprecedented before this and it’s not good to make habits you’ll have to eventually break. You should get your sweater off the floor, or at least slip on his purple t-shirt…. But you give into the temptation and shut your eyes for one second. One mere second. That’s enough for you to doze off. When Jimin realizes you’ve accidentally fallen asleep, he smiles to himself and tugs the blankets up to your shoulders, securing you in warmly. // You stifle another yawn with your hand. It’s 9:30 in the goddamn morning and way too early for you. There’s a reason you pick afternoon classes, go to work afterwards and then go see Jimin to end your day off. There’s no situation good enough that warrants your alarm blaring before eight — but you suppose a graduation ceremony could be an exception. “There’s so many people,” your dad gasps in wonderment, looking around the vast hall. “Do you know them all?” “No.” You hold in your sigh. “I don’t.” For the past twenty minutes, you’ve been running around looking for your parents after they’ve wandered off and gotten lost. If they weren’t spamming their cameras on their phone and telling you to smile in front of the odd statue or the meaningless bulletin board that wasn’t even part of your faculty, it was calling your name as loud as they could to find you in the crowds. You’re happy over their enthusiasm but also burdened. It’s a lot of mixed feelings. “Y/N?” Dark hair and brown eyes — a certain someone who you weren’t expecting to run into is staring right at you with a boyish smile. “Jimin?” He looks good, a suit underneath and a black graduation gown over it that falls to his calf. His gown has a golden hood and tassel while yours is white — the colours symbolizing your different faculties and areas of study. “Hey.” His gaze is warm. “You look nice.” “Thanks. You too.” You don’t linger on him for long, not when his parents are right by his side. You divert your vision and greet them politely. Jimin surprisingly looks a lot like his dad and his mom has a kind face. They seem like sweet people and you’re suddenly breaking into a sweat. “Nice to meet you.” Your own parents make themselves known and you feel like your worlds are colliding as they shake hands and exchange names, congratulating each other on their child’s graduation. You’re about to get them moving along when your mom nudges you. “Is this your boyfriend?” Her voice is way too loud and you feel yourself burn in embarrassment. “No. He’s just a friend,” you whisper it sharply but much your dismay, they look unconvinced. You miss the way Jimin smiles to himself. “We should get a picture!” his dad declares and your own dad looks even more elated at the idea of spamming more pictures. You already had to delete a hundred blurry ones, but your mom ignores your groan and pushes you both towards some weird artwork on the wall. “Stand over here! Over here! Smile!” Your parents end up sitting next to each other on the rows and you have no words, forced to sit at the bottom with the rest of your graduating class. It’s a wonder that the Arts Faculty was scheduled right before the Faculty of Kines. Fate or coincidence, you’re not sure yet. But it’s still nice to see Jimin walk the stage and be able to cheer for him. “Congratulations, Mr. Park.” He grins. “Congratulations to you too, Miss L/N.” It’s certain that the numerous celebrations with family, friends and relatives will be chaotic, so you take advantage of the opportunity while you still can. You steal just a little moment for your selfish desires by standing outside before you’re both bombarded by your circle of people. “You know, I couldn’t have done it without you.” “Oh, stop it with the sappiness.” You can’t feign a roll of your eyes when your smile is so big. He swings an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close and laughing. “Why? Don’t like it?” And the little shit slyly leans in to whisper, “You like it when I call you my baby though.” “Jimin!” He laughs and you sigh with a smile. You’re glad you ran into him.

[Post-Graduation] You open the door, welcoming yourself in. “Hey.” Jimin’s on the couch and glances at you, unfazed at how you’ve waltzed right into his apartment with little warning. You’ve always knocked out of courtesy for his roommates, but ever since he moved out of the dormitories, you find little need to make him walk all the way to the door. He’s watching a thriller and you flop down on his couch, leaning over to plant a quick peck against his mouth as a greeting. “How was work?” “It was okay. A bit busy. I met this nice old lady and we chatted for a bit. She called me handsome, so there’s that.” He grins and you scoff lightly, leaning your cheek on his shoulder as you watch the main character venture into an abandoned house on screen. Jimin loves his praises, so you’re not wholly surprised he’s kept a mental note of it. You’re not sure why it’s important though. Anyone with eyes would agree he’s good-looking. “How was class?” “Awful,” you mumble, feeling tired against him. You came over to get rid of some sexual frustration, but you’re not even sure you have the energy to do anything anymore. “Commuting was brutal this morning. Traffic was backed up on the highway and I was late, and yesterday I had to drive back at night. My parents are driving me nuts too. I can’t study properly.” Jimin hums a soothing note and slings an arm at the back of the couch where you’re sitting, letting you lean into him. It goes quiet as the two of you watch the suspenseful scene and then he absentmindedly pipes up after a minute, “You could always move in with me.” He continues, “It’s closer to the university and it’s quiet during the day, so you can study. We could always study together too.” It’s a good idea, but— “I can’t afford that.” “I don’t mind paying rent for a while. It’s the same either way.” It takes a second for the words sink in and then you’re peeling yourself off of him. Your gaze is met with Jimin’s, eyes locking into one another and the movie is left in the background. “As roommates?” He shrugs. “There’s only one bedroom, but sure.” A studio apartment. One bed shared. Two people. Watching movies. Having sex. Eating together. It doesn’t sound bad to you whatsoever, but you contemplate it. It swirls around inside your head and you murmur, “Isn’t that breaking the rules of being friends with benefits?” And you don't know why but Wendy’s words from the other day are echoing inside the caverns of your brain at the worst moment. “You know, your relationship with Jimin isn’t exactly normal.” You weren’t sure what she meant and you still don’t know. Not when she had advertised and encouraged this kind of arrangement all those years ago. When she had told you many people got involved in each other like this. But you’re starting to wonder if something is off. Did you do something wrong? Did your relationship with Jimin spiral out of control? But everything feels normal. After three years, you’d think you would’ve mastered the art of benefits by now. You sigh, getting a headache. Yet, Jimin merely shrugs. As if the definitions and boundaries don’t bother him whatsoever. “Is it?” “Kind of. I mean, living together, being mutually exclusive. It almost sounds like….” “Like what?” His brows lift. “Like we’re dating?” You feel hot in your face, skin toasted like a furnace. Maybe you’re being delusional or silly. Maybe he’s going to laugh at you. “This is what couples who are going to get engaged do.” “Maybe we should date then…?” The pitch of Jimin’s voice raises at the end, not necessarily a question but neither a statement. It’s questionable like he’s unsure how you feel. Like he’s playing a guessing game. And then he smiles at your shocked expression. Jimin turns to face you fully. His gaze is heavy, earnest. “Maybe we should date.” This time, it’s repeated as an assertion. Confident. Unwavering. Sincere. Jimin leans in to kiss you as if he can’t resist anymore. It’s tender, taking you off guard and you lean into him, finally allowing yourself to become surrounded by him. Mind. Body. And soul. When the two of you pull away, he smiles while catching his breath. “I-I’m down if you are. This apartment can be yours and you can study here and sleep here and whatever. We can eat together and I’ll buy you take out or cook. It’s fine if you don’t want to. I’m cool with anything. We can keep being friends with benefits, if that’s what you want….so…......what do you want?” You exhale lightly, feeling warm. “This...is a lot.” “Is it?” Instantly, Jimin appears panicked and you hold back a laugh. “We’ve technically been together for three years and...what we’ve been doing recently is basically dating. In my opinion.” “Did Wendy put you up to this?” “No.” He shakes his head. “Frankly, the person I talk to most these days is you. And I like it that way.” God, you hate him. You pull Jimin in for another kiss, an aggressive and eager one. Enough that you can feel the heat off of his own face. You move to straddle his thighs and when you break apart, you muster a glare at him. “You know, I’ve been trying so hard not to catch feelings. You’re ruining all my efforts, you know that, Park?” He grins. “Is this a yes?” “It is.” This time, he’s the one to kiss you, sealing your lips together as he smiles against your mouth and squeezes giggles out of you. Even if he doesn’t say it, even if he’s saving it for another day, you know from his tender touches that he loves you. And it’s mutual. No longer do you need to worry — leave right after the deed is done or be panicked when you’ve accidentally fallen asleep in his bed. You’re unashamed when he kisses you harder as a greeting, when he holds your hand, when you go out together. You can have pillow talks without needing to guard yourself, cuddle him, call him yours. And when Christmas arrives, meaning sweater weather and snow dusting from the sky, you have someone to keep you warm. Someone who you can come back to and call your home.

#bts fanfic #bts smut #jimin smut #bts scenario #jimin fanfic #jimin scenario #lol I can finally use the smut tag #I know this ain't sfw y'all but I really wasn't kidding when I said I was experimenting a bit more with smut #with that being said I actually really like this fic #IT'S FLUFF AND SOFT AF #I LOVE ME SOME CUTE CHIM DON'T FIGHT ME

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zmediaoutlet · 4 years

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in support of wildfire relief, @jesusonthetortillas donated $10, and requested pre-series pining!Sam, with diary discovery. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

After his little lesson from Sabrina, the hot librarian's assistant, it's not hard at all for Dean to find what he's looking for. He drops Sam off at the library the way he usually does, and flirts with Sabrina on his way out like he usually does, but instead of going to his shift at the construction site like Sam thinks he's going to, he circles back around, through the library stacks on the main floor, and waits like a dingus by YOUNG ADULT – ADVENTURE, watching the back of Sam's nerdy, nerdy head where he's hunched at the computer banks, getting up to no kind of good.

It wouldn't have come to this, Dean thinks, if Sam weren't so—he doesn't even know how to think about it. He doesn't know when to pin it down. They were doing okay. Sam ran away, a few years back, but since then he's—well, he's always bitching at Dad and bitching at Dean half the time too, but he's done good in school, he's done his part with the hunting. It was sometime at that last school. September in Maryland. Dad was gone a lot of the time, because Dad always was, and Dean went with him on about half the hunts but Sam got to stay behind, got to just call in research tips and last-minute lore checks, and Dean thought he was pretty happy, as much as Sam ever seemed happy. Chill, just doing his homework at the rickety desk, not complaining any more than usual about Dean's usual dinners of fast food or Kraft or Top Ramen. Seventeen and getting tall and mellowing out, and finally hanging out with his little brother was just fine. Dean thought.

That was two towns ago, three months ago. Dean picks his nails with his pocket knife, leaning on one elbow by the Hardy Boys. Sam's still working away on the computer. Anymore he always is. After school he's always angling for Dean to bring him to the library and if Dean won't drive him then Sam walks, even when it's raining, like it is half the time in frickin Washington, anyway. Always finding a free computer and settling in and disappearing onto the internet. Not coming home until the library closes, and moody if Dean's there when he walks in, and Dean just—he thought they were past all this crap. He thought that maybe Sam had—settled. Figured out how things were, how things had to be.

Well. Either way. Sabrina, with the glasses and the sexy dreads and the legs that very much went all the way to the floor under those wide-legged pants she was always wearing—she gave Dean a computer lesson, free of charge, and he's got a way in, now. Sam won't talk to him, won't hardly look at him. Dean chews the inside of his cheek, watching Sam type on the battered public machine. Sam's not the only one who knows how to research a case, in this family. Dean's going to figure this out. He's gonna fix it.

A bell rings, at five o'clock, like the end of a school day. Sam jerks like he's been shocked and looks up at the ceiling, clearly annoyed. He's been engrossed for two hours, typing away, reading. Real frickin' boring, on Dean's end, but he stayed put. Like staking out a house for a job—nothing to do but wait. He takes a few steps backwards, makes sure the shelves hide his face, and there's a general rustling as people leave—a mom and her kid, and tears because the kid's favorite book wasn't here—and when Dean looks again the computer banks are empty, and Sabrina's checking out the last few patrons, and Sam's—gone. Walking home in the rain, little goth that he is. Fine with Dean, if it gives him a few minutes.

When he settles into the chair Sam was in it's still warm. He opens up Netscape Navigator, the library's homepage welcoming him in a friendly kinda way—big yellow smiley face, that's fun. He goes to where Sabrina taught him, in the menu at the top: view, and then History, where it turns out the computer saves all the webpages you went to just in case you need to find them again, and there—oh, jackpot. Gotcha, Sam.

All kinds of crap. A weather website, a bunch of Ask Jeeves searches, something called DiffEQandU. Some mythology stuff, too, and Dean goes to one that turns out to be a history of kitsune. That's something, at least—Sam doing his important homework, in there with whatever other crap he's been working on.

The last bunch of results are all pages from some website called Livejournal, which Dean's never heard of. He clicks one at random and is brought to—huh. A splashy red page, with a big picture on top of kids graduating from high school in those dorky blue robes. He scrolls down, skimming, looking for the important details among the mess, but it's hard to tell what it is. A forum, it looks like. Kind of like the ones Dean's been on where people trade car parts, or swap ghost stories. A square box, dated yesterday, that says WHEN IS HARVARD'S APP REVIEW???, and a panicky paragraph where some chick might die if she doesn't get in. Another, the day before, with questions about the SAT, and a link that says 43 comments that, when Dean clicks it, brings him to a bunch of apparently teenagers all giving each other tips from some test they're worried about taking.

College. Dean's stomach curls into a knot. It's all—college stuff, applications and tests and deadlines. The usernames are all weird shit: tmntpizzadelivery, quistis4ever, willyshakes. Dean can't tell—is one of these kids Sam?

Sabrina's nearly done with her line of book nerds. Dean rubs a hand over his mouth and clicks away, tries another of the Livejournal results in the history. Another forum, this one apparently about—soccer? Jesus, Sam. Another forum, this one about Conan the Barbarian, and that one's at least easy to snort at, with people's shitty drawings of Red Sonja and excitement about a possible remake. There are personal pages, though, too—one titled Delaware Sucks, in which some girl complains about her life—one titled trent reznor rules my soul, featuring a goth kid who won't shut up about Nine Inch Nails and his bitch of a mother. Another, with a plain blue-and-grey color scheme, with the title on the road, and a new post from today—from an hour ago—with the text just reading, I don't know what to do anymore, and six comments underneath, waiting.

"Hey—ready to go?" Sabrina says.

Dean jerks in his seat. Sabrina's raising her eyebrows at him, behind her glasses, a little smile curving her mouth that promises something a little better than book dust and computer lessons. "I'm always ready," Dean says, grinning, and gets her to roll her eyes—yeah, he's in there—but his eyes drag back to the webpage, the posts. He scrolls down, quick—post after post, waiting to be read. "Real quick—borrow a pen?"

She has one—she's a sexy librarian, of course she has one—and he uncrumples a receipt from his jacket pocket and writes down the URL, careful to get it right. rearviewmirror.livejournal.com. He wants to click on the comments, but.

"Come on, the movie's starting soon," Sabrina says, and Dean closes Netscape, folds the receipt very carefully into his pocket, stands up. He's got a date to make out with a hot chick in the back of a movie theater, and maybe a little more, and Sam's whole Eeyore routine has to take a number. Dean will figure it out. He's got an easy way to run a stakeout, now.

December 4

Still can't decide. Anyone else going through this?

current mood: agonized current music: motorhead (AGAIN)

Comments:

teenagehamburger: Yes!! I still don't know where I want to go. Mom wants me to stay close to home, but Delaware sucksssss. Where are you looking?

rearviewmirror: Anywhere. TBH I'm still not even sure I should apply.

teenagehamburger: WTF?? Of course you should!! College is the big escape, remember?

December 1

He's driving me INSANE

current mood: annoyed current music: motorhead (again)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: lol you got it bad

rearviewmirror: right now I just want to hit him with a brick, actually

teenagehamburger: LOL!! Sorry :( :(

rearviewmirror: Sigh. I guess it could be worse, right?

teenagehamburger: Definitely!! He could be the cute cheerleader from 4th period who doesn't know I exist….

coppertonebuttgirl: oh, sorry hammie, that sucks <3

November 29

The thing is, I don't even want anything crazy? I just want to be—me. Just me, without anyone breathing down my neck. Trig teacher says I could get in to one of the top ten, but I just want to go *anywhere that's not here*

current mood: restless current music: Pearl Jam (home alone!)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: i hear you lol. why don't they get that the rules and hovering and all that shit just makes us want to run faster?

rearviewmirror: Exactly! My teacher keeps talking about college like it's a place to expand your mind and stuff, and that's fine, but lately I just want to expand my horizons. Kind of ironic?

bloodofreptile: yeah lol haven't you lived like everywhere?

rearviewmirror: Feels like it.

teenagehamburger: Is You Know Who going to college too?

November 18

I feel like it shouldn't be this hard. Normal people have it easy.

current mood: indescribable current music: silence

Comments:

coppertonebuttgirl: feel free to talk to me anytime <3

November 3

Dad's gone again. Didn't say goodbye. We went to the movies and he gave me a beer, and we watched the stars for an hour in the parking lot even though it was freaking freezing. Happier than I've been in a while. Don’t want it to change but it has to change.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

teenagehamburger: OMG, that sounds so romantic?? I can't believe you were drinking!! Aren't you underage?

bloodofreptile: lol relax it's not a big deal

teenagehamburger: I'm just saying!!

coppertonebuttgirl: wish it wasn't hard for you <3

bloodofreptile: dude you've got to say something

rearviewmirror: I literally can't.

bloodofreptile: ok but it's gonna drive you crazy. do you even know if he's gay? start with that maybe

The posts go on, and on. Reading backwards through time, it's a strange piecing-together. rearviewmirror is active in about ten communities and Dean reads through all of them, that week, bringing an illicit cup of coffee in to the library when he doesn't have a construction shift. He reads with his hand over his mouth and by the time he has to get off the computer he's got a headache, every time, his throat dry and aching.

The journal's been active for six months. Dean clicks through the pages to the very start and reads it in the right order, his heart pounding oddly in his ears. I don't know what this place is. A journal, I guess, considering the name. I just need somewhere to talk where no one will listen.

It's not a pouring-out, like some teenage girl doodling hearts around her crush's initials. He holds back. Never says exactly where they're living, never mentions names. To figure out who it was, you'd have to be one of two other people, and Dean knows that Dad can barely turn on a computer, much less go onto the internet and pore over some teenage angst-fest. Dean spends half his time wishing he were the same. Maybe if he hadn't asked Sabrina for help.

At home, Sam's the same as he always is. Comes home after his own stint at the library, eats the dinner Dean gives him. He reads, most of the time. Does his schoolwork. Dean says, careful one night, "Hey, True Lies is on. Wanna watch?" but Sam only gives him a strange, uncertain look and says, "No, I have a paper due," and he shuts himself into their bedroom with the door very firmly closed, and Dean sits there on the couch alone with a beer and Jamie Lee Curtis being sexy as hell on the fuzzy TV, and he—he doesn't know what to do.

He remembers that day, the looking at the stars day. It was November 2. A nasty anniversary, in their family, and yeah, Dad left. Dean got it. He'd thought Sam did, too, by now. It was better to have Dad gone, on a hunt, than trying to drink himself to death at home in the apartment. At least he was working, that way, and not hurting himself. To distract both of them, Dean picked Sam up from the library and they went straight to the movie theater—the Blair Witch sequel, with Dean providing running commentary about how dumb they were about dealing with ghosts, which at least made Sam grin and elbow him to shut up, even if he was laughing too, the liar—and, yeah, afterward they'd picked up Taco Bell, and then after that Dean swung through the liquor store drive-thru and they parked out, and he let Sam have a beer, and they both sat on the trunk and leaned back against the cold glass or the rear window and didn't really talk, much. The stars, big above them. The night, quiet. Sam was pressed against his side, chilled out and not bitching about anything, and Dean tucked his hand behind his head and he was pretty content with the world, right then. His brother, here, and a six-pack waiting, and nothing happening right then that'd hurt them. Sam smiled at him, that night, before he went to bed. It was sweet—like he used to be, when he was little—and Dean had ended up falling asleep on the couch, watching the public access, but his dreams that night were—good, like they never were on the night of November 2, and it had felt… okay.

do you even know if he's gay?

The college prep—that wasn't a surprise. It hurt but it didn't shock. All his worrying, all his whining, wanting to be 'free'—whatever free meant—it was all part and parcel of the last decade. Dean should've known better. Sam wasn't mellowing out. Sam was a stubborn little shit and he'd always wanted to have a life that wasn't—this.

The gay thing. That hit different. One of the communities Sam followed was for lesbian and gay youth, talking about their coming out experiences. Sam didn't post there much but he commented, asked questions. How do you know? What does it feel like? The hamburger girl was from there, a lesbian chick trapped in some Delaware high school. Encouraging, commiserating. They talked about how college would be their big escape, their chance to go to a big city and find their way. Meet people. Only apparently hamburger girl was crushing on the cheerleader from fourth period, and Sam—

Dean makes an excuse the next day. Saturday: no work for Dean, no school for Sam. Alone in the apartment together, all day, after Dean's week of reading—he can't face it. "Where are you going?" Sam asks, eight a.m. with his hair fucked up and coffee clenched between his hands, and Dean looks at him in his pajama pants and his ratty hand-me-down shirt, skinny and tall and hiding things Dean can't handle, and he says, snappish in a way he doesn't mean to be—"Out, Sam, for christ's sake—" and sees Sam's expression shutter before the apartment door slams behind him.

He goes for a drive, out of town. Cold, threatening rain like it always is, but it won't snow. Out—past the airport, past the suburbs, out to Black Lake. They killed the nymph that was drowning people out here, him and Dad, when they first arrived. Sam stayed home. Sullen on the other end of the line when Dean called to say they'd finished the job, and they were getting burgers for dinner, and did Sam want one. Whatever, Sam had said, like even answering was an imposition. That was November, too.

He sits on the hood, heels braced on the bumper, arms locked around his knees. The lake looks cold. He wants to sink into it, wants to feel that freezing shock, like the polar bear dive he did on a dare back in Illinois. The way the brain just goes blank, tv-static filling up everything and washing all the shit away. All the weird crap you don't want to think about, frozen, and the only thing to focus on just—getting out.

He's not going to dive into the lake. It's nine in the morning and he's wearing his only pair of boots. He hasn't gone out with Sabrina all week. He's been piss-poor at the construction site and McMillan nearly brained him with a hammer yesterday, because Dean wasn't paying attention, and the foreman screamed at him in front of the whole crew. None of that feels close, right now. He breathes the wet-clogged air, cold and mossy, turning his ring restlessly on his finger.

Back at that high school they went to in Raton, Mrs. Encinas in 6th period English told Dean he'd be smart, if he didn't just give up all the time. All he needed to do was take the time to read between the lines, to actually interpret what he was reading and not take things on face value. He made some joke. He doesn't remember what it was, now. Like he didn't know what the fuckin Great Gatsby was saying, when he hoped and hoped and never got what he wanted. When happiness always felt like it was about a thousand miles away, on the other side of a lake he couldn't cross, and hope went out like a snuffed light. Dean can read what's not there. He's done it his whole life.

The problem: Sam's little online journal went back six months. They've lived in four towns, in that time. He never uses names, never puts up anything that'd really identify him. They were in Maryland, August-September-first of October, and it was a comment right at the end of August, on the community for gay kids, talking to the hamburger girl: I like someone, too. He doesn't know. He. The same he that carried forward, through all his journal entries, from Maryland to Washington across whole breadth of the country. He likes classic rock. He drives me nuts. He gave me a beer, and I wanted—

Dean curls forward over his knees, sliding his hands into his hair, breathing hard between his knees. He can read between the lines and he wishes that he couldn't. He wishes—god. What? That Sam would just meet a nice girl and fuck her and get it out of his system? Except how he was writing, it wasn't like it was new. It was something he'd been thinking about. When did you know? had read one of the forum posts, and in the responses, among all the dumb teenage crap about formal dances and jerking off to the wrong person in the music video, there was a comment by username rearviewmirror that said, I broke my leg and he carried me to the car and I wanted to kiss him.

Sam broke his leg in July, the summer he turned fifteen. He'd been trying to stay quiet but he'd had this trapped whimper in his throat that he couldn't stop, and Dad had stayed behind to cover their backs and it had been left to Dean, to scoop Sam up, his whole body quivering with the shock—to hug him close between the trees, humid Georgia night making every place their skin touched slick with sweat—to let Sam cling to his neck, shuddering, and to put a hand on his back and whisper, hey, Sammy, it's not even that bad, huh? no bone sticking out, you did good. we're gonna get you a cast and I'm gonna draw you a great picture, okay, Cindy Crawford with her tits out, right there on your shin and Sam had been so shaky that his laugh sounded like he was crying, but he'd nodded against Dean's neck and chattered out sounds cool, Dean, and when Dean got him to the car Sam hadn't wanted to let him go—so they crawled into the backseat together, Sam still half in his lap and with his arms still tight around Dean's neck. Dad got into the front and frowned at Dean in the rearview, and Dean nodded, and when the car leapt forward Sam gasped and gripped at Dean's shirt when his leg got jostled, and Dean put his hand in Sam's hair and said, it's okay, you're okay, and Sam—wanted to kiss him.

He can't square it. It's like there's some twinned version of his brother, in this place Dean never knew existed. All these secrets he's been hoarding, this other person he's been. These wants that make him a stranger.

He goes back home with stuff for lunch around noon. Sam's reading, in the bedroom. "Got pb&j or grilled cheese," Dean calls, down the shotgun kitchen through the thin-carpeted hall, and Sam calls back, "I'm not hungry," which is a goddamn shit of a lie. He grows like an inch a day, he's never not hungry. Dean braces his hands on the counter and counts to five, in his head. He puts the bread away, and puts the cheese in the fridge. He goes into the living room and turns on the TV and it's college football, which is boring as hell, but it fills the apartment with noise. He wishes Dad were home. He wishes he were hunting.

The Huskies lose. Sam hasn't come out of the room, as far as Dean can tell. He's had—four beers? He looks at the table. Five. It's getting toward dark and it's raining, a-fucking-gain, and Dean's still wearing his jacket and his boots and his ears are cold, because the heater in here sucks, and he's shredded the label of the beer everywhere, everywhere. He brushes it off his knees and that just means it's gonna get ground into the shit-brown carpet, but—who cares. He's got other things on his mind.

He gets the last beer out of the fridge. Should've bought more. "Got some spare cash," he says, to the dark hall. There's a halo of light around the half-closed bedroom door. "Thinking pizza for dinner."

Silence.

Dean pushes the beer bottle against his forehead. "C'mon, Sam. It's not going to kill you to prefer pepperoni or sausage. Just say something."

"Doesn't matter," is the response.

Dean squeezes his eyes closed, slams the bottle down to the counter. It's four steps to the bedroom and the door flies open under his palm. "Just fucking say," Dean says, and Sam's looking at him with big eyes, curled up on the twin bed with his back up against the wall, books spread open all around him. Homework, of course. "Just say it, okay? What do you want?"

Sam stares at him. "I don't care! Get—whatever, pepperoni. Jeez, what's up with you?"

"Sure you don't want sausage?" Dean says, kind of nasty, and Sam frowns, shakes his head. Goddamn it. Dean drags a hand over his face, sags against the door frame. He's—a little dizzy. Oh—okay, so maybe he should've eaten, sometime since this morning. "Damn it, Sam," he says, his stomach twinging.

"What?" Give him this—maybe he's sneaking around, maybe he's lying about half his life, but Sam doesn't shrink back from an argument. He's still in his pajamas. He shoves his notebook away, lifts his chin. "What?"

"Been doing some reading," Dean says, and watches Sam's face scrunch disbelievingly. "Rearviewmirror? You don't even like cars."

It's weirdly satisfying to watch Sam blanch. He's been so unaffected the last little while it's almost a relief to get a real reaction. His mouth parts, his eyes go big. He stares at Dean in total silence except the rain drumming on the roof, and then he says, "That's—private."

"Not that private," Dean says. "You're putting shit on the internet for any asshole to read, Sam. It's not a pretty princess diary with a sparkly lock."

Sam's face is white. He licks his lips, his back rigid against the wall. "How did you—you never—"

"I know how to use a friggin computer," Dean says, and watches Sam close his eyes. "So? Got a lot to say to a bunch of strangers. Might as well say it to me. I mean, I'm your brother, right? Family."

It comes out hard but his voice cracks, on the last word. He swallows and some of the anger dissipates. Sam's jaw flexes and he tucks his hands behind his neck and his knees drag in, like defense. Like he needs defense. Against Dean. Like it's Dean who's wrecking things.

Dean's legs go out from under him. He sits down. Right there, in the doorway to the bedroom, the frame hard against his spine. The rain's loud and he doesn't—what is there to say? "You should've told me."

That's really it. Sam looks at him. Disbelief. "How?" he says, and Dean tips his head back against the wall, looks at the popcorn ceiling, says, "I don't know, it's not my damn secret. But you should've."

"Yeah, that would've gone great," Sam says, sarcastic.

Silence. The rain. Dean drags his hand over his face again, clears his throat. "So. You're—queer." For some reason it seems like the simplest thing to start with.

Sam snorts. "I'm not, like, jerking off to JC Chasez," he says, bitter.

"Who?" Dean says, but shakes his head. "God, whatever. Jesus, Sam, I can't—don't talk about you jerking off. You're not—you don't date chicks, either. Ever. So you're—"

"I don't know," Sam says. Kind of firm. Dean closes his eyes to not look at him. "I don't know, okay? But that's not what—" Pause, while he drags in a breath that's audible across the room. Dean curls over, his forehead between his knees. It's too big to hear. Sam blows out air. "You read the whole thing?"

Frail. Cobweb soft, like if Dean breathed too hard it'd break. Dean folds his hands over his head. "I read the whole thing," he says.

"Don't—" Sam says, quick, and cuts himself off. Dean can't stand it—he looks, peeking up, and Sam's made himself small, there at the head of the bed. His mouth is small, his lips between his teeth—his eyes, big and scared. "Dean. I wouldn't—I swear. I wouldn't—"

"Kiss me?" Sam flinches like from a raised fist, when Dean's all the way over here. Dean licks his lips, dropping his hands so they dangle useless between his knees. "Or, what. Leave? Either way it's pretty fucked up, for me, Sam."

"Oh my god," Sam says, very quietly, and—christ. Looks like he's gonna cry.

"Sam," Dean says, and no matter how pissed he is, that's not—Sam fights back. Sam always fights back, he's frickin' annoying that way. He's not supposed to crack like this. Dean rolls up to his knees and Sam's looking away, neck craned unnaturally so that his face is pointed at the broken-blind-covered window so that Dean can't see, but Dean can—Dean can see his teeth so hard in his lip that the skin there's white, and his chest shaky, and his fist clenched in the thin fabric of his pajama bottoms, and, and—"Sammy," Dean says, again, and Sam's eyes close and there is—shit, shit, a tear, running fast out of the corner of his eye, streaking down his cheek so quick that if Dean could blink he might've missed it.

Dean's gut hurts, like he took a punch from a werewolf and he's gonna be bruised for the next three weeks. He doesn't have anything to say to make it better, not when it's this screwed up. This isn't Sam bitching about Dad or whining about crossbow practice or pouting about a move. Sam's been thinking about this for two years and he's managed to talk about it with people, online at least. Dean's coming at it with a week's slow raw realization and he doesn't know how to make it—not how it is.

He gets over to the bed, on his knees. Sam won't look at him, like the view of nothing through the blinds is the most fascinating thing in the world. There's a wet shining trail, down his cheek to his jaw. A damp circle on his t-shirt. Dean says, because he can't think of what else to say, "You really—you want—" and even then, can't articulate it. A kiss. Sex. A kind of close they've never been. He says, slower, "Is that why you want to go?"

Sam drags in air. Sounds like it hurts.

Dean drags his teeth over his lip. There are books all over the bed. He pushes them away, and Sam's notebook. He pushes up—knee on the mattress, and sinking down to his hip, and Sam's close enough to touch, now, and he jerks and looks at Dean like he's an alien. A ghost. Something that can't be real, only they both know that it is. Dean touches Sam's hand, fisted there in his pants, and Sam jerks again, his stiff shoulders back against the wall, and he shoves Dean's hand but no matter the crazy growth spurt Sam's been having Dean's still stronger, still has the reach—he grips Sam's wrist and yanks, gets him off balance, and then he's right inside Sam's grapple and has his hand flat on Sam's chest, pressing him harder against the paint, and Sam stares at him wild-eyed with his breath both fast and deep and Dean leans forward and presses their mouths together. It's a bad kiss—he barely hits on center, and Sam freezes—but there's the touch of warmth, Sam's lips—soft—and the shocked air hitting Dean's face—and Dean drags in breath through his nose and resettles, fits his mouth to Sam's soft open lower lip and makes it better, his head tipping, easy pressure there, just the faintest amount of suction so that when he pulls back a millimeter there's a little smooch sound, and that makes it—real.

He kissed his little brother. No getting around that. No pretending. His nose brushes Sam's cheek and Sam's not really breathing, and Dean—fuck, Dean does it again, pressing in and letting Sam's wrist go so that he can get a hand on Sam's jaw, tipping him so it's good. Sam makes a tiny noise and breathes out hard against his mouth, and when Dean kisses him for a third time Sam meets it, his lips moving finally out of that still shock, his fingertips brushing Dean's arm all careful, his heart pounding under Dean's hand.

Dean pulls back. An inch between them—not enough but all Dean can seem to manage. He swallows. His lips are tingling, and his eyes are closed and he doesn't want to open them, and his fingers—jesus, he's got them tangled in Sam's hair like Sam's some easy hot chick he's picked up at a dive bar, pressing her up against the wall in the bathroom hallway, knowing how the night's going to end.

"We can't," Sam says. Sam. His voice, steady and familiar. "We—Dean. This isn't—"

"No," Dean says, god knows why. He pulls back, though—pulls his hand out of Sam's hair, stands up. His legs wobble for a second. He has to open his eyes and so he drags in a breath and does, and Sam's sitting there with his shoulders high and tight and his hands fisted on his knees and his hair a little fluffed on one side, a little screwy. His mouth parted and his eyes—fixed on Dean's face, looking all over it. Like he's memorizing a trail map, for an unknown stretch of land.

"I'm drunk," Dean says. It's not true. Five beers—he's buzzed but he knows what he's doing. Sam doesn't contradict the lie. "Acting nuts. Sorry, Sam. I—"

"I want pepperoni," Sam says. His face isn't white anymore. He's flushed, dark pink in the hollows of his cheeks. His eyes are dark, wide and fixed on Dean, and there's still that shining trail on his cheek but it's drying. "Order from that place on Melrose. Garlic knots, too."

Dean backs up a step, pins on a smile. "What, you think I'm dumb? Like I wouldn't get knots," he says, and Sam doesn't smile but he nods, brief and fast like Dean's picking up a play in some con they're running, and Dean snaps a finger-gun at Sam—fuck, what is he doing��and turns out of the room, says—"Okay, dinner in thirty minutes or less or your money back!" and walks through the kitchen and out into the living room and out the front door, and closes it behind himself, and leans against it and stares blindly out into the rain, the setting sun still sparking some tiny golden bit of light out to the west, past the horizon.

He licks his lips and tastes salt, not his own. Sam's hand, on his arm—skimming, brushing light through the thickness of his jacket. Like he wasn't sure he'd be allowed to really touch. He drags in the rain-soaked air. He'll drive, to get the pizza. He'll drive, and he'll give Sam time. When he gets back he'll offer Sam half the pie and a beer, and there'll be some movie on TV that Sam probably won't want to watch, but maybe he will. They'll be—brothers. Dean knows how to do that. It feels like it's all he's got left.

It's—not easy but it's not all that hard, either. There's a brutal week where Dean's torn between walking on eggshells and wanting to wrestle Sam to the ground, and Sam goes perfectly silent—not pouty withdrawal or furious silent-treatment, but as still and quiet as though he's not even there. Dean can't bear it. It takes Dad coming home to break it—Dad, and christ, when he calls to say he's coming back Dean completely freezes and his mind fills up with—with—but then Sam looks at him and takes the phone out of his hand and says, his mouth's full—what's up? and after that it's like things… settle. It's not okay but it's livable.

rearviewmirror.livejournal.com goes quiet. Dean checks, occasionally, over the months that pass. When he's looking up some random piece of lore for Dad, when they're hunting alone and Sam's stuck back at whatever shitty hotel they stored him at, and Dean's on research duty because Sam's in high school and can't answer his phone. Dean types in the address and checks, and it's still that last post. Anyone else going through this? He hopes, sincerely, not. It's too fucked up for anyone else to bear. At least the Winchesters have practice.

They run PT. Sam does his homework. Dean watches TV. Hunting focuses things. There's stuff to kill and people to save and things aren't falling apart any more than they ever are, so—Dean deals.

Sam leaves.

It's January. Dean's in a library, alone. Dad's working a job north of Boise and he sent Dean down to Wendover to take care of a haunting, and Dean's done and Dad called and said two more days and there's this raw wounded spot where Dean should be able to turn, to look over his left shoulder and say—but it's empty there, and so he's in a library.

Sam started posting again, when he got to school. Small stuff. That he was sorry for the long break. That he'd ended up at a university after all. The hamburger girl doesn't respond anymore but the Nine Inch Nails boy does: thought you were dead, he says, no-caps like he's so goddamn cool, and Sam says, Just working some stuff out.

Sam likes his professors. He plays pick-up soccer with some of the guys from his dorm. His roommate snores. He doesn't listen to music at all. There's nothing—real. There's none of the sadboy shit, nothing about what he's feeling, no pondering of what it all means. He picks up a few different Livejournal friends, clearly people from his classes, who crack jokes about Ancient Civ and Linear Algebra. He joins a community focused around civil rights litigation. He might as well not be there.

Dean reads it all. If Sam's not calling then Dean's gonna check in whatever way he can. When Sam left Dean made sure he had at least one good knife in his bag and he said don't forget the salt when Sam hiked his backpack onto his shoulder, and Sam snorted and looked at him like a gunshot but he nodded, and Sam's not dumb, he knows how to take care of himself, but. Dean's the big brother, here. He's within his rights, to check and make sure baby bro's not being a dumbass.

January and it's fuckin cold, in Wendover, but the library's too warm. Dean keeps his coat on anyway, scrolling through the comms. He's kinda turning into an expert, navigating the pages, recognizing the shorthand. He hasn't made an account. Doesn't know why he would. He finishes his scan of the comms Sam's part of and doesn't really see any relevant posts, and no comments from rearviewmirror that he can find. He chews his cheek and goes back to the main page, thinking—okay, he can get out of here. Beer and dinner, and finding a motel that doesn't look toxic, and waiting for Dad to call. Not the worst night he could have. He refreshes, one last time, just in case, and there's a new post. He reads:

January 23

Done with class for the week. Feeling restless.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

lawblog69: we should go out!!

bloodofreptile: go get laid

Dean snorts. At least the NIN kid is consistent. He refreshes again and there's a new comment.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

He takes a breath, sitting there at the computer bank. It's quiet in here—the good people of Wendover aren't much for the library, apparently—but he feels like someone's right there. Like he could reach out and touch, when it's just words on a glowing screen. Still—the speed of the comment—Sam's… sitting there. Right now, on a computer in Palo Alto, looking at the same thing Dean is.

He refreshes.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

bloodofreptile: still holding onto that? very hufflepuff. how long has it been?

rearviewmirror: my whole life

Dean presses his knuckles to his lips, hard enough that he can feel his teeth pressing back. Jesus, Sam. He refreshes—another comment, from coppertonebuttgirl, agreeing about the restlessness but apparently she's off to a date with her boyfriend, and Sam responds and says sounds nice :), and jesus, Sam, Dean thinks. Off to have the big college experience like he wanted so bad, off to have that new shiny life, and after five months away he's still all sadsack, still not actually living.

He clicks the comment box. He types, unaccountably mad. He hits submit, and gets a warning that it'll show as anonymous. He waits, and refreshes, and reads:

Anonymous: Just go hit a bar. Live a little. Thought you were supposed to be smart, college boy.

rearviewmirror: Since when does smart have anything to do with it?

Dean rolls his eyes. He can hear Sam's voice saying it, nettled and trying to sound like he isn't.

Anonymous: You're on here mooning after Cindy Crawford when Claudia Schiffer and Tyra Banks are out there in the real world. Have a beer, get over it.

A pause. Dean has to refresh twice. The librarian walks by with her cart of books and gives him a distracted smile, and Dean's so addled he doesn't actually process and then return it until she's already gone.

rearviewmirror: I don't think it's something you get over. It mattered. It still does, to me.

Dean chews his thumbnail. Sam's face, turned unnaturally, looking out that window at the rain. The wet track, on his cheek.

Anonymous: Matters enough that you're never going to move on?

rearviewmirror: I didn't think you could move on from family. Maybe I was wrong.

The air goes out of Dean's chest. He turns away from the computer, entirely, swiveling the chair so he's looking out at the lonely bookshelves. He flexes his jaw and swivels back around. Hits refresh.

The thread of comments is gone. He blinks, confused. He doesn't think he was hallucinating—been a while, since he was that tired and drunk. But—oh—in its place, a single comment, under the brief conversation with the NIN kid:

rearviewmirror: Tell me if it's you.

Dean licks his lips. He closes out of the browser, picks up his notepad and keys. On the steps outside it's cold, cold, fucking cold, and this town is bleak. He walks down to the Impala, waiting there in the iced-over grey snow, and braces his hands on the hood, and blows out a long purling winter-dragon breath, and then fishes his phone out of his pocket. Another new phone, but he's got Sam's number memorized, and he almost calls before he chickens out. If it's not actually wanted—he imagines that conversation and he's just not constitutionally capable, right now, of facing how goddamn awkward it'd be.

He texts: It's me.

The response, after seconds: Where are you?

The shitty part of Utah. That's saying something. Easier, like this. Like it's not him kicking down a doorway right into Sam's head.

I don't have class tomorrow.

Could be random, if he didn't know who he was talking to. Dean leans his elbows on the hood of the car, looking at the little box of black-and-white text. He chews his lips and thinks. Before he can respond, another message:

I don't want to move on.

Dean tips his head enough that he's pressing the edge of the phone into his forehead. His fingers are cold. He sniffs, his nose dripping in the icy weather, and types, careful to make sure he gets it right: I'm nine hours away.

Less, if he goes over 100 in the boring parts of Nevada, and if he doesn't stop at all for a catnap.

Stop in Reno for a nap. You get weird when you drive all night. Text me when you're close.

Dean works his jaw, standing there in the cold. He's got nothing to do, for two days. He's got most of a tank of gas. He's got—nothing. Nothing. He gets in the car, and he drives.

It's only 9:30 when he gets to Reno. There were parts of Nevada where he drove very, very fast. He pulls into a truck stop, gets more gas and parks out near where the semis are lined up, the drivers early-birding the night away. Still cold here but less so. He twists around so his back's to the passenger door and looks out the driver window at the neon signs of the truck stop, the cars going in and out of the gas islands. He ate a little but his stomach was all twisted up and he couldn't get much down. A beer would go easier but he doesn't want to be drunk. Well. He does. This is insane. This is—completely stupid.

He pulls out his phone, looks at it. Dials and holds it to his ear, and it rings three times—long enough for him to change his mind four times—before there's an answer, and Sam's voice says, "Dean?"

His voice. Dean closes his eyes, tips his head back against the cold glass of the window. "Long time, no speak," Dean says. It feels rusty.

Sam's quiet for a second, on the other end. "Not really, though. Right?"

"I guess so. It's not the same." Dean listens to the little acknowledging sound Sam makes. There's silence again, for seconds that he counts—one and then two and then three. He listens to the cooling tick of the engine, through it, and then says, before he loses his nerve, "I shouldn't come. Right? This is nuts."

There's some noise, staticky. Like something passed over the mic on Sam's phone. After a beat, Sam says, "You should do what you want to do."

"Oh, should I," Dean says, and it comes out sarcastic, but he doesn't really mean it to be mean. Sam doesn't take the bait, staying quiet on the other end, and Dean opens his eyes again, watching a huge truck muscle past the gas island, watching the normal world go by. He rubs his eye. "I've been—it's been weird, Sam."

Understatement, but he doesn't know why he says it. That kind of stuff isn't for Sam to worry about.

"Go to sleep," Sam says, instead of responding. "An hour or something, just enough so you won't drive off the road. Text me when you're close."

Same thing he said before. "It'll be like three in the morning when I'm close," Dean says, and Sam says, "I'll be awake," and then the line disconnects, and Dean's left there alone again on the bench seat, but it—feels different.

He sort of sleeps, sort of doesn't. He's got a talent for going to bed wherever and whenever he has to—on spare tires and on forest floors and in a closet, once, with a propane tank as his pillow—but his brain won't shut up. He drifts in and out, for the hour Sam asked him for, and then he gets out of the car and goes into the 24-hour c-store and buys a big cup of coffee and a Hershey bar, and points the hood west, and follows the yellow dashed line home.

He texts from a gas station outside Sacramento. Sam texts back in less than a minute with an address. Dean glances at his map of California and responds: 45 minutes, and it's more like thirty when he pulls up to the—yeah, the motel, and he makes a sound that's sort of like a laugh except it doesn't feel like one. He turns into the parking lot and the headlights flash the building, and there, sitting on the sidewalk with his back to a pillar.

Dean parks. Sam has his arms folded over his knees, but he unfurls, stands. Dean gets out of the car and Sam's—jesus, ten feet away, his face totally visible under the streetlight. His hair's a little longer. "Did you get taller?" Dean says, and Sam huffs, his head ducking, and—fuck everything else, it's Dean's little brother, and he drags Sam into a hug, folding his arms over Sam's shoulders even if he has to lift on his toes a little to do it. Sam goes stiff for half a second, but he hugs back, and Dean turns his face in, Sam's hair in his nose like it always is, and feels him—warm, and safe. All Dean ever wanted for him, pretty much.

"You have to get the room," Sam says, when they pull apart. At Dean's eyebrows he shrugs, the corner of his mouth curled. "What? My scholarship doesn't include seedy rent by the hour stuff."

"Oversight much?" Dean says, but he goes in, and he gets a room. Two queens, because that's what the tired miserable little desk clerk says they have available. Means Dean doesn't have to think about other possibilities, and it means that when he dangles the keys off his finger and Sam half-smiles at him, when they've walked down the cold sidewalk side by side, when Dean opens the door and finds the different motel room, same as the first—Sam sits on one bed, and Dean sits on the other, and they look at each other, and it's like it's two years ago and they're just two kids, waiting for Dad to come home.

Sam is taller. Taller than Dean, now. His hair long enough to fall in his eyes, which it does constantly. Newish sneakers, and old jeans, and a hooded sweatshirt, and a denim jacket over the top of that. Not warm enough for the Bay in winter, but Dean bites his tongue before he says anything about it.

"How are your classes?" he says, instead.

Sam's cheek sucks in, like he's chewing it. After a second he says, "You don't want to talk about my classes, man." His head tips. "Anyway. You read about it, right."

It was a mistake not to stop for beer. Dean needs something to do with his hands. "Your algebra professor sounds like an asshole," he says.

Makes Sam smile before he ducks his head, looking down at his lap. "I thought—" He swallows, audibly. He shakes his head, his hair falling down and hiding his face. "Only reason I started posting again was that I wondered if you might still—if you'd check."

It's quiet, honest. Dean hasn't talked to Sam in person for half a year and he's off-balance. Expecting Sam to snark, to be dismissive, to roll his eyes. Small hours of the morning, maybe he's too tired not to be honest. Maybe he's growing up. Dean's not prepared for that.

Sam looks up at him when Dean's silent for too long. His teeth dig into the corner of his mouth and he drags his hand through his hair, gets it off his forehead. "I said I didn't want to move on. You know what I meant, right?"

Dean huffs. "Yeah, I'm not an idiot, Sam," he says, and Sam's eyes tighten. Dean leans back on his hands, tips his head back on his shoulders to look at the ceiling. "Thought this was the whole point of getting out. Getting away, making a whole new life. Being someone else."

"I'm still me," Sam says, unseen. "And it wasn't the whole point. I want a life. That part—whatever, that doesn't matter right now. But I never thought the other thing was going to go away."

He stands up, so Dean can see him. Dean looks at him down his nose, and Sam's—god. Tall. That keeps being his first thought. Tall, and maybe not a stranger, even if he's real damn strange. Sam steps closer, in the little space between the two beds, chewing his lip again. He's gonna make a sore there. "Dean," he says, and Dean raises his eyebrows in response. "You came."

"Yeah," Dean says, rueful. "Well. I'm Cindy Crawford."

Sam's face ripples—a frown, surprise—and then a huffed little laugh—and then he steps between Dean's knees and touches his chest, his jaw. Leans down, slow, telegraphing like they're practicing a fight, and Dean stays exactly where he is, leaned back on his hands, and Sam's mouth touches his—softly. Not hesitant. Dean lets his eyes close and feels it. Puff of air against his face as Sam lets out a tense breath and then another kiss, the damp inside Sam's lip catching against Dean's, and Dean kisses back then, reaching up and getting Sam's jaw, his jacket, fisting the denim and pulling Sam closer. There's a stagger—Sam's knee landing on the bed by Dean's hip, and Dean gets an arm around his lower back and kisses him again, tasting him. Salt, and when Dean kisses him again and presses his mouth open, licks inside, there's coffee-taste, Sam's tongue—slick, tentative—he stayed up, to wait for Dean—his kiss clumsier now, like he doesn't have much practice.

Dean pulls back a few inches. Sam's half-draped on him, his weight nearly in Dean's lap. His eyes are dark but big with surprise, like he didn't expect Dean to go with it. "Sammy," Dean says, and Sam—shudders, his hands closing hard around Dean's shoulders. Okay, Dean thinks, filing that away. He drags a thumb over Sam's jaw, where he's got a barely-there prickle of stubble. "What are we doing?"

Sam shakes his head, licks his lips. "This," he says, holding the side of Dean's neck. "This."

They peel Sam's jacket off, and then Dean's. Sam's still in that hoodie, soft black, and Dean gets his fingers just under the hem of it, barely grazing Sam's stomach, kissing him again—tangled up close on the edge of the bed, Sam's thigh slung over his. Sam keeps touching his face, his chest. His amulet, swinging forward between them when he urges Sam down to his back on the mattress, a knee between Sam's and his hand still there on Sam's belly. Sam grips the amulet and breathes out hot against Dean's face and lifts up for another kiss, which Dean gives him easy, and it's—god, it's good. The lights on, the room warm, Sam wanting underneath his hand. His mouth, slick and open, learning how to press back, how to give as good as he's getting. Dean kisses his cheekbone, his jaw, settles his hand flat on Sam's stomach to ground him, says, "Sammy, you've done this before, right?" Sam hitches breath, nods. Dean sorta laughs, lifts up so he can actually see Sam's expression. "More than once?"

"Twice," Sam says, and when Dean raises his eyebrows he frowns, vaguely indignant. "Jenny Morrison, just before graduation." He licks his lips. "And—a guy. After student orientation, here."

"Playing the field, huh?" Dean says. There's no reason it should make his stomach go molten hot. He rubs Sam's stomach, feels the rise of his breath. "You like it?" Sam nods, again. "What'd you do?"

Sam's cheeks are dark, brick-red. He licks his lips again and Dean ducks back in to kiss him, knocking his mouth open, tasting inside. Earns himself a small deep noise and Sam's hand sliding through his hair where it's too short to grab. He nudges Sam's nose and sits up, peeling off his overshirt. "C'mon. What'd you do? Didn't put that up on your journal, how am I supposed to know?"

"It was a rush party," Sam says, looking at him. He pulls his t-shirt off over his head, making sure his amulet stays put, and Sam blinks heavily, his lips parted. Jeez—it's weird. Hot. Sam wants him, Dean thinks, and it sends a rush of blood south. "He's—uh. Pre-med, smart."

"Not looking for his biography, Sammy," Dean says, and spreads his hands on Sam's hips, pushing up. The hoodie moves, the t-shirt underneath rucks up—Sam's pale here but still that faint all-over tan, darker than Dean's skin. He licks his lips. "What'd you do? Jerk each other off?"

Sam nods, again, his mouth open. God, Dean can imagine it. On some dorm-room bed, their heads leaned together, Sam's mouth open just like this—panting, his hand fumbling down—fuck, fuck it's hot, Sam nervous and into it and trying, making sure. "You liked it, huh?" Dean says, stroking his thumbs over Sam's bare belly.

"Yeah," Sam says, thin on not enough air, his knee drawing up. "But I—I thought about—when you kissed me—" and Dean kisses him again, groaning. Jesus, Sam's gonna kill him. Thinking about some shitty nervous freaked-out kiss when another guy's got his tongue in Sam's mouth. Sam grabs his shoulders, sits up, and Dean accommodates him easy, letting Sam touch him back—Sam's hands sliding down his chest, around to his ribs, grasping. "Dean," he says, panting.

"Let's get this off, huh?" Dean says, pulling, and Sam yanks the hoodie off in a second flat, his hair all ruffling up behind it. The shirt comes with it and there's just Sammy's bare smooth skin, that same pale tan all over. Small brownish nipples, slim muscles. His body. Dean dips and kisses his bare shoulder, licking there, biting, and Sam's nails dig into his ribs so he does it again, swinging a leg over so he's straddling Sam's lap, taking his time. He scrapes his teeth over the swell where Sam's collarbone dips into the arch of his trap, and Sam grips his neck, his back arching. He's hard. Shit, he's nineteen, he has to be hard. Dean slides his fingers down Sam's belly to his belt, tucking under the waist of his jeans, but Sam grips his wrist, then, groaning, saying—"Wait—wait—"

Dean drops his head to Sam's shoulder, groaning back. "We waited," he says, but Sam's hand is on his shoulder, pushing him back, making him look. "What?"

Sam's pink. "Have you—with a guy?" Dean rocks back but Sam's holding him close, looking all over his face. "Dean. Have you—"

"Yeah," Dean says, and watches Sam's ears go red. Sam doesn't need to know when, but it was all in the last year. Three dudes, hookups that were way too easy. They were good—turns out that Dean just likes sex, any way someone will give it to him—and he learned what it felt like to have a dick not his own in his hand, how it felt to slip a cock into his mouth and make a man groan. He hadn't thought about Sam while he was doing it, not really, but he's thinking about it now, and Sam's eyes have dropped, his lips between his teeth. Jealous? Dean smiles while Sam can't see and breaks Sam's hold on his wrist, and slides his hand down, and cups the crotch of Sam's jeans where he's swelling them out. Sam jerks, eyes flying open. "Means I know what I'm doing. Yeah?"

"Yeah," Sam breathes, and then it's—undoing his belt, and unzipping, and then—god, he's still got his sneakers on. Dean backs off and kicks off his boots, deliberately, and Sam blinks at him hot-eyed with his chest heaving and his jeans half-open looking like a friggin porno, but then he gets with the program, and the shoes thud to the shitty carpet and then they're practically racing, undressing, and when Dean kicks his boxers off to the side Sam's—naked, half on the bed, staring at him. Dean stares back, circling a hand around Sam's ankle. God, to look at him, in the lamplight. Long legs, hairier on the shins and lightly furred on the thighs, and a decent dark bush around a dick that's—jesus, that dick. Big, bigger than Dean's, bigger than—Dean licks his lips and looks up with an effort and Sam's staring right back at him, focused between his legs, his mouth parted. "Like what you see?" Dean says, and Sam doesn't answer, just reaches for him, and Dean crawls up the bed and settles on his elbow above Sam with their legs brushing bare, Sam's dick hot against his hip, and Sam kisses him with both hands on his face, his thigh dragging up against Dean's, his lips almost trembly.

Dean soothes a hand down Sam's ribs but Sam's—fuck. Shaking. They haven't even done anything. "Sammy," Dean whispers, between Sam's needing brief kisses, and Sam shakes his head and kisses him again and then ducks his head down, his nose brushing under Dean's jaw. Dean pulls Sam closer—tips, so they're on their sides—and pulls Sam's leg over his hip, pushes in, and—ah, shit, shit that feels good, Sam's big dick brushing in against his, dragging heavy and hot. "Oh," says Sam, small, and Dean slips his hand further and grips Sam's ass, the muscle tight and small—pulls in, and pulls again, encouraging, and Sam grips Dean's shoulder underhand tight enough to hurt but follows, pushing in with the rhythm Dean's urging. He's breathing fast, hot against Dean's throat, but he's got it—humping in, meeting Dean, making their dicks slide, his cockhead smearing wet against Dean's belly. Dean hums, kissing Sam's temple where he can just reach it, just enjoying the—insane way it feels. He lets Sam's ass go and Sam keeps going—good, good—and he licks his fingers sloppy, and reaches down between them, and for the first time he gets a grip on Sam's dick, feels the heft of it. Sam makes a sound like he's been shot and Dean says shh, easy, slicking his hand down to the base, squeezing hard as he pulls back up, and Sam makes another gulping strange sound, his thigh clutching hard around Dean's hip, his hand crushing Dean's lower back in closer. "That feel good?" Dean says, and Sam—comes. Fast, humping in, spurting up Dean's belly and his own, the slick getting all over Dean's dick, hot and wet, the sensation enormous. Dean squeezes him through it, knowing, and Sam humps in again and grabs his ass, nails digging in. Dean tips his head back, feeling it. God, it's good. Sam. His brother.

He swallows. His dick's throbbing, wanting more, feeling left behind. Sammy shudders and Dean licks his lips, pushes Sam back so his shoulders hit the bed. He flops—boneless, shocked—and Dean drags his hands over Sam's ribs, frames his hips. His dick is still big, flushed and wet, his balls clutched up high, and Dean licks his lips and says, "Okay," to no one, and leans down, and gets Sam's dick in his mouth.

A shock, Sam's body practically lifting off the bed. "What," he says, somewhere Dean can't see him—"What are you, oh—" and Dean thinks, oh, what if no one has done this? What if Jenny just opened her legs and she and Sam humped awkward and teenage in some backseat—what if pre-med only wiped his handful of Sam's jizz on the mattress and passed out—what if Dean's the first one, here, opening his jaw wide, careful of his teeth, slicking down, getting the whole fat length of it in his mouth. Only—he can't, fuck, Sam's too big. He fists the base, pulls off, spits and slicks the wet down. When he glances up Sam's up on his elbows, staring, and Dean grins at him, jerks it again, swallows. He can taste Sam's jizz, leftover from coming before. "Hang on," Dean says, and goes back down, letting the head bust his lips open, slicking tight down to his fist, dragging his tongue hard against the underside, suckling easy. Sam takes his statement as an order and grips his head, his shoulder, his hips cringing up into Dean's mouth, and Dean heaves in air, feels Sam firming up again, thick and needing and good.

He's only done this a few times but he—shit, he liked it. Likes it better the other way around, of course, but like this—his dick pressing into the bed, throbbing—Sam splitting open his mouth—yeah, it doesn't exactly suck. He bobs up and down, making sure to pay special attention to the soft ridge at the head, and Sam's making insane noises, now, up above him, petting his head and his shoulders and gripping, trying to shove up. Dean leans into his hip so he can't, fists his dick, pulls off gasping and licking his lips. Sam's still staring, down the length of his torso, and Dean jerks him through the goopy mess they're making—his spit, Sam's precome, what Sam's already come. "You like it?" Dean says, and Sam—rolls his eyes, the little shit.

"You're smug," Sam says, and Dean raises his eyebrows and says, "You're damn right I am," and lets Sam's dick go and goes down, down, no fist in the way until Sam's dick hits the back of his throat and he gags—breathes through it—slurps up with tight lips and then goes right back down, getting his throat used to it, learning the feel of this massive, awesome dick. Sam moans, pushes his hips up, and Dean lets him, rides it—lets Sam fuck up, lets him get a rhythm, like fucking—Sam, fucking his face—and Dean reaches down between his own legs and fists his own dick, finally, groaning in relief and making Sam shudder as the vibration rumbles through Dean's open throat. Sam grips his head with both hands, holding him down, and Dean drags in air through his nose and holds there, filled up with Sam and choking, spit flooding out of his open mouth—the world dark and just Sam's taste, his smell—and Sam makes a little sound—and Dean grunts and lifts off, breaks Sam's hold and crawls up his body, straddling his hips and dragging his dick against where Sam's is all sloppy-hot, dripping wet. Sam gasps up at him and grabs his hips, his ass, fucking up into him, and Dean grips both their dicks in two hands, fucking into the tight wet channel he's making for them both, and Sam pulls at his ass, spreading it, rocking his hips to help, moaning and looking helpless up into Dean's face, and Dean leans down and breathes against him and Sam still comes first, creaming them both, his dick flexing and twitching in Dean's grip, and Dean braces one slick hand on the bed and fists himself seriously, jerking fast, and Sam moans and kisses his jaw and pulls at his ass with those big hands, his fingers slipping low, dipping—and Dean jerks and spills, his belly seizing, his thighs clamping around Sam's hips, Sam's lips open and dragging wet against his throat, his fist gripping the bedspread so hard that his fingers cramp.

Sam's stroking his hips, repetitive and soft, when he's done panting. Dean swallows, shifts his weight. He's slumped on top of Sam, his face buried in Sam's shoulder. Wet between them, sliding, and he releases his dick and slips his sticky hand out, bracing on the bed enough to get some air between them. When he lifts up Sam's eyes are half-closed, but he focuses on Dean's face right away, and his hands stop their stroking and just squeeze, warm and tight. "You okay?" Sam says.

"My line," Dean says, and Sam rolls his eyes again, squeezes again. Dean sits up more but Sam doesn't let go. "C'mon, we should clean up."

Sam's eyes tighten, just barely. He sits up, keeping his grip on Dean, and Dean rocks back but doesn't tip over. He gets a hand on Sam's shoulder to keep his balance and Sam says, steady, "Don't freak. Okay?"

"Who's freaking?" Their dicks are still pressed wetly together, though Dean's basically soft, now. Sam's still plump, thick. He swallows. "C'mon, we're gonna get cemented together," he says, and Sam's mouth purses but his grip goes light, and it gives enough room that Dean can lift off, get his feet under him. Jesus, there's enough jizz on him that it's rolling down his belly—he claps a hand to it before it can drop, smearing it over his abs. "You come like a geyser, dude," he says, not really complaining, but Sam's cheeks are red when he looks back up, and he feels—shit. He doesn't know.

He goes to the bathroom. Fluorescent light, pink-painted sink. He wets one of the five-cent washrags and wipes himself up, and he's not turned on anymore so his thought is mainly that it's just gross, and that bed's going to be wrecked, and also, what is he doing. What is he doing.

Sam's hand appears, reaching around him. He jumps. In the mirror behind him, Sam's tall, looking over his shoulder. Looking at Dean, even as he wets the other rag, cleans himself up. Dean chews the inside of his lip and can't really turn away. Sam's got red marks on his shoulder, where Dean was biting him.

"Stay," Sam says. He tosses his wet rag back into the sink and settles his hands on Dean's biceps, squeezing. When he steps forward his dick presses into the small of Dean's back and his chest is warm, damp. "Tomorrow at least. We've got the room. Stay."

"You want your dick sucked again?" Dean says, and that time it is mean and he did kind of mean it to be, and Sam's eyelids dip and his jaw clenches, but he only slips his hands away from Dean's arms to his ribs, holding him. It feels… Dean shakes his head. "Sam," he says, but there's not really anything that can go after it.

A big hand slides up and over, flattening on his breastbone. "It's not just this," Sam says, meeting Dean's eyes in the mirror, and it makes Dean's cheeks go hot.

He covers Sam's hand with his. He shivers, for some reason. He says, "I should take a shower, I've been in the car all day," and Sam says, "Okay," and Dean takes a shower and Sam sits on the closed toilet, watches him through the clear curtain. Gives him a towel when he comes out. Takes his hips, when he's dry, and presses him to the tiled wall, and tips his head up, and kisses him clean.

Five in the morning, or later. There's a clean bed and Dean hasn't slept in a day. He lays down and Sam lays down with him, a few inches away until Dean relents and turns over, and Sam curls up behind him, holding on, his mouth against Dean's shoulder. There's going to be a call from Dad, at some point. Dean's going to have to meet him somewhere, because there's going to be something bad that needs killing. He can't stay. He's wired and tired, all at once.

"Sleep," Sam says, and Dean turns his head against the pillow, knows he will.

"Hey," he says, and Sam makes a quiet noise. "If you put this on your journal, maybe bloodofreptile will finally shut up about you getting laid all the time."

"His name is Dennis," Sam says, and Dean laughs, weirdly glad. Dennis. Yeah, that fits. "And this isn't going on the internet."

"Probably a good idea," Dean says, and Sam says, again, "Dude, go to sleep," and Dean tips back into Sam's warmth, and does, and it's the best sleep he's gotten in a year.

#fffr #wincest #weecest #first time #long fic #my writing #--seriously this one also went too long #but idk it felt right this way

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neshabeingchildish · 5 years

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05. Stepping Back

Things had been going pretty well. But, well… You know… Sometimes, things happen and the ugly comes out of us all. And, well… That massage chair… It did something to them, to him. Jasper wanted it. He couldn’t think of anything that he had ever wanted more in his entire life. Charlotte learned that the hard way.

“Well, Henry missed his turn. We know what that means,” she said, heading for the chair.

Jasper cut her off and suggested, “That means it’s my turn.”

She cocked her head back and looked him up and down, “How do you figure?”

“Because you’ve been in it and I haven’t!”

“I outsmarted you and you helped Henry forcibly remove me!”

“I was under pressure!”

She smiled and adjusted the collar of his shirt, “I get that, I understand pressure. That’s why I need to experience the chair, right now. Don’t I deserve to?”

Jasper smiled, and almost agreed, but then something occurred to him, “Wait a minute! Are you using my feelings against me? You’re taking advantage of my big heart!”

“I could have done worst,” she said, backing away a little, and rolling her eyes.

“I can’t imagine that you could.”

She pulled out her laser, “Well, I can. Step back, Jasper. Don’t make this uglier than it has to be.”

He pulled his out too, now. “It pains me that it’s come to this Charlotte…”

“It doesn’t pain me. But, if you keep going near that chair; it’ll pain you…”

Honestly, things went wild.

Whenever Ray pit them against each other in the challenge, she had to admit that if he wasn’t competing against her, she would have admired Jasper’s tenacity. He was in the freakin’ lead! He was seriously dusting her and Henry. The guy had nothing to lose, apparently, because the death snake was an automatic no for her and Henry, but fortunately, none of the other events were nearly as dangerous. Schwoz offered him an antidote for the venom, but the side effects were severe sickness and possible blackouts. He didn’t want to blackout, so he held off on the antidote and put it in his pocket, in case of near death. While that was completely insane, Charlotte couldn’t resist being impressed by his sheer will to win. She was also impressed by him in a tight body suit throwing a huge bag, but she wasn’t gonna tell anybody that one! Then, he had the audacity to hit a few manly poses. Who the heck did he think he was? She wondered, checking him out. Jasper had levels that she absolutely wanted to investigate further… you know, some time after this stupid competition. This stupid competition that none of them wound up even winning!

They would have done it all over again, but Jasper looked deeply ill and Charlotte forced him to finally take that antidote. Having him in that condition, she felt guilty about proceeding herself, and said, “Guess it’s all you, Hen.” She had an arm around Jasper to help him walk and said, “I know that your house is closer, but I think you should come to mine, in case you have side effects from the antidote and need assistance.”

“You can come to my house, for a change,” he said, slurred.

“No. Your mom is there,” she said and grabbed the handles of the Hart’s wheelbarrow. They wouldn’t miss it for a night.

“Yeah, and she’s always gonna be…”

“Sit in the barrow,” she ordered. He frowned. “It’ll be uncomfortable, but you literally battled a death snake today. I think that you can handle it.” He sat down and she pushed.

“I feel like I should clarify something. I opened up to you about some things and I didn’t really expound. I love my mom. She’s not perfect. She hasn’t always done the right thing, but she’s my mom. I’m not trying to leave her behind or even escape from her. Most importantly, she’s not trash, to me.” Jasper couldn’t seem to stop himself from talking. He felt like maybe either the venom or the medicine had his inhibitions down.

Charlotte nodded her head as she struggled to push his weight forward, “I never should have said that. I’m sorry. I just think about you being neglected and traumatized and I hate that. As your friend, I hate that someone has the power to harm you without opposition…” Jasper blacked out. “Okay… Great.” She was a little glad that the conversation was over and hopefully, he wouldn’t even remember it. He was kind of out of it whenever he began talking.

But, as she neared her walkway, he started talking again, like there hadn’t even been a break! “I didn’t tell you about my mom as an attack on her or to take away anything from her. I said it for growth and because I trust you. I defend you when she says things about you and I’m gonna defend her when you say things about her. She’s my family, and you’re my friend. I can’t do life without either of you.” How the heck did he just resume things after a blackout?

She helped him out of the wheelbarrow and told him, “You won’t have to do it without me. Sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

She reached up to hug Jasper and of course, he was accepting of that gesture. He held tightly and admitted into her soft skin, “There’s nothing in the world that I wouldn’t forgive you for.” She let out a breathy whimper and melted against him. He rubbed his face against her jaw and squeezed tightly, realizing that her shirt had ridden up a little and he was touching her actual skin on her waist. She didn’t have those handles there, just tight, firm, smooth skin. She was skinny, and he guessed he’d imagined that meant she might be hard to the touch, but it was the opposite. She was extremely supple and delicate. He accidentally let out a moan and within the heartbeat, Charlotte gently broke contact with him, gave him a friendly grin and patted him on the chest.

“Let’s get you inside.”

Jasper used her bathroom and changed into his tight suit, because he’d kept it and she couldn’t get any of her dad’s clothes without notice tonight. She stayed outside of the room to make sure that he didn’t pass out or something, then helped him into bed and spent some quality time in the bathroom herself. Her body was aching from having things thrown at her, falling onto a pile of her friends, and just general shenanigans. Wtf were they thinking earlier? All three of them had lost their everloving minds over a chair! But, if that last challenge wasn’t so open and ridiculous, Jasper would have won. Good on him. Jasper wasn’t a huge winner, but she appreciated seeing that inside of him. It was kinda hot.

She came out of the bathroom, clean and somewhat relaxed, moisturized, with her hair set, and… Jasper was in her bed. She sighed. From the way he was positioned, he probably blacked out again. She adjusted his body to where he was laying comfortably and helped to get him under the covers. He was much heavier than Henry the few times she tried to move him. Jasper was thicker and more solid. “Thicka than a snicka,” she said and giggled to herself.

“Thank you,” he mumbled and she dropped the cover and clutched her heart. She leaned to try to see if he was awake and he turned over. Thank God. How mortifying that could have been! “Charlotte?”

“Huh?” she asked, keeping her distance. But, he didn’t say anything. He must’ve been talking in his sleep. She set the room right, air, diffuser, night sounds, lights… She looked at the spare bed and the beds were identical, but this one was slept in less. She went to lock her bedroom door, in case her mom cheerfully came to wake her for breakfast or something and she climbed into her own bed, justifying it because it was hers and it wasn’t like she was gonna take advantage of him or something! She settled in. This was weird. Maybe she should get in the spare, instead. Yeah, this wasn’t right… Jasper’s arm wrapped around her and pulled her closer to him. This… was right. This was good. It was nice. She was asleep within moments and whenever she woke up, still there, she smiled. Jasper was snoring, but she guessed she missed it with the bear hug, the night sounds, and general tiredness. Maybe she had just gotten a little used to it because he slept over a lot lately.

She was probably laying there for a good half hour before he woke up and jumped up, kinda startled, apologizing. “I must’ve wandered here from the bathroom or something!”

“Hey. It’s fine. You blacked out on my bed and I didn’t want to sleep in the spare. It’s all good, Relax.” He sighed, relieved, but then got up and grabbed his clothes from the night before. “Jasper…”

“I don’t think that I told my mom I’d be out. She’s gonna flip!”

Charlotte checked her phone and said, “She called Henry last night and he told her that you were sleeping over and had already fallen asleep. He even added, ‘Charlotte’s not here, though,’ for good measure.” She climbed out of bed and he watched her turn off her various devices. “He had your back.”

Jasper didn’t comment on the emphasis that she had put on “your.” But, maybe Charlotte and Henry were fighting or something? He nodded and said, “I’ll just put these on over this.” He began to get into his old clothes and she snatched her phone, grabbed a hanger with an outfit on it and went into the bathroom.

Henry: Heads up! Jasper’s mom called late last night to see if he was here. I covered for you. Said that he was here but already asleep and it was just us guys. Dude… Whatever you’re doing with Jasper, I hope you realize that he’s sensitive, okay? So, I mean, it’d be cute, if I thought you were actually into him, but we both know that’s not the case. Be careful with him.

She fumed and snatched off her pajamas.

Charlotte: Wow. Okay. That’s all fine and well, but I don’t recall asking you. For your information, Jasper and I are just friends and if we weren’t, it wouldn’t be any of your business, tbh.

Henry was almost ready for work whenever he got Charlotte’s response and he was taken aback by it, to stay the least.

Henry: Why are you being so salty? Are you actually catching feelings for him? Because, I just can’t imagine it. But, if I’m wrong and you’re gonna do right by him, then congrats. If not, it’s kind of my duty to make sure everyone is okay…

Charlotte: It’s really not. It’s not your business. If I like Jasper or not, that’s between Jasper and I. The way that you automatically assumed that I wouldn’t even like Jasper is indicative of how YOU perceive him, not me. Stop projecting. You think that Jasper’s not good enough, so you’re saying I’m not going to see anything in him and that’s insulting to both of us.

Henry: That’s not what I meant. I meant that you’re very conceited about a lot of stuff and so I didn’t think you’d see Jasper for the good guy that he is.

Charlotte: Maybe I should show him this conversation and see how he sees it.

Henry: Quit! Call me.

Charlotte: No.

She didn’t show Jasper, and she didn’t keep.arguing with Henry. But, she did take a step back from Jasper. Because… what if Henry was right? Who knew her better than he did? What if she needed to reassess and be realistic? What if realistically… that would never work? Then, she might hurt Jasper and at this point, she wasn’t willing to do that. Not this way. So, she tried to just go back to normal. Just… let things be. Hopefully, that was the right thing to do. For everyone.

#henry danger #charlotte page #hd fanfic #nesha hd fics #A Chasper Fic #jasper dunlop

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mayday1284 · 5 years

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That’s All I Need... Maya 10k WTF Writing Challenge

Hey, here ya go! I wrote a Steve x Reader insert of about 1,850 words.

Warnings- not really any, a nightmare but it isn’t described, and wayyy to much cooking!

tagging @prettyyoungtragedy cos she created the prompt and the challenge

Prompt- 5. It’s the middle of winter and you’re stuck in a log cabin with someone you hate, trouble ensues.

Enjoy!

Steve Rogers. A name that makes my skin crawl. America’s Golden Boy gets on my nerves, and if it weren’t for the fact that I need to be a functioning part of this team, I would be so far away from him.

So, you can imagine my delight when I was told we were going on a mission together, in the woods, in the middle of winter, with no one else. Tony Stark I will cut your-

The gentle sunlight moves behind the pine trees dancing in the wind. I’ve spent most of this long, painful, and awkward car ride staring out of the window. Steve’s hands tightly grip the steering wheel painting his knuckles with white.

“That can’t be comfortable, can it?” I shouldn’t have broken the silence; poor Steve looks like he’s gonna have a stroke. Can he even have a stroke?

“Well, don’t ask me, I barely noticed.” He chuckles between the words making the conversation seem less like we’re stuck in a pit with no way to get out. Bad analogy? Maybe, I’m too tired to really think anymore.

Stretching I speak, ��How long till we get there? I’m ready to pass out.” Steve glances at the GPS, pondering the roads and the time.

“Shouldn’t be too long.” He glances at the sky before turning onto a dirt road.

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

The door creaks open and dust flies all around, swirling as it falls back to the wooden panels. I flick on the light switch as I cross my fingers that it doesn’t burn down. The hallway illuminates and I peer down to the kitchen. Success.

Steve marches past me, his shoulder blade clipping mine. Jeez how rude is this guy?

The kitchen is mostly empty, dishes and silverware neatly stacked in fives, the pantry filled with canned food and nonperishables, plus some things like flour and sugar. Hopefully I can cook with these things.

There’s two small bedrooms and a living area with a fireplace and a metal door with small windows looking to the outside world. Grey sheets and woolen blankets on each bed and one - count it, one - bathroom. Awesome, this should be fun.

We set out to bringing the bags in, all duffel bags, it’s the easiest way to pack and move. Steve sets his in the bedroom on the right, so I guess I’ll take what’s left. Get it, get… never mind.

Barely three words are spoken that night.

“I’m off, night.” Steve doesn’t waste time lingering in the doorway, walking off to presumably shower and get to bed, something I’ll be doing soon. But for now, tea.

I dust myself off as I stand moving to start my kettle. I’m smart, and bringing an electric kettle is a must for someone like me. Grabbing a mug, I plunk the teabag into it and wait for the water to boil. The sky changes into colors of lavender and baby blue as the sun lowers even further. I miss the woods when I’m in New York. I mean for Steve, it’s all he’s ever known - city, city, freezing ice, and more city.

Why am I thinking about Steve? This is me time, where the only trace that he’s here is the sound of running water. He better not take all the hot water, that jerk.

I quickly finish my tea and wait for a few minutes to make sure I have hot water. Maybe that’s not how it works, but it eases my mind quite a bit. The shower goes my fast, and before I know it, I’m cuddled under fleece and wool, half asleep. And yet my mind moves back to my housemate. Why does he bother me so much? I barely speak to him. Well one thing’s for sure. This is gonna be a long week.

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

The sound of birds wakes me up, funnily enough, Steve isn’t standing over my bed saying, ‘wake up its 4 AM’. Ok, maybe that is an exaggeration, but 5 AM is still too early, even in my book. Unlike the rest of the Avengers, I never received military training. I was a special person with some amazing powers to heal. At least, that’s how Fury put it.

I meander into the kitchen, throwing my hair into a ponytail. Time to make German pancakes.

------ Steve’s POV-----

I awake to the smell of sugar and flour being cooked. Y/N. Well someone’s up early. Pulling myself up I grunt, letting my shoulders catch up to me. The scent drags me into the kitchen as I’m taken aback by the sight of Y/N humming and dancing about the small kitchen, her hair a mess and clothes wrinkled. This wouldn’t be easy.

Since the day I met her, I’ve been crushing on Y/N L/N. And I have no way to explain it. After Peggy, I never thought I would love again, but she ran in and crushed my world. Problem is, I’m too awkward to do anything about it.

She glances up, noticing me for the first time, obviously shocked.

“How long have you been there, creep?” She giggles as the words leave her mouth.

“Not too long, long enough to see you scorching your… what are those?” I smirk, glancing down at the pan.

She glares, flipping the flat disk of flour, then turning back to me.

“For your information, they are called German Pancakes. My grandma used to make them all to time.” Y/N plates one and dusts powdered sugar on it.

Her arms balance two plates on them as she walks over to the small oak table in the corner. “Bon Appetit!” A smile moves across her face as she gestures to the table.

Smirking I sit down. “Finger food?” Confusion flashes before she remembers.

She grabs a fork and sets it down in front of me, clearly anxious to see what I think. I pick up the fork and cut a small bite before eating it. Her gaze remains on me the whole time, awaiting my response.

“Alright, I will admit that you make an amazing breakfast.” She pumps her fist in the air.

“Yes! I will take it.” Her gaze falls, and she sit next to me. “So, why do you never talk to me? Do you not like me?” If only you knew.

“No. I mean, yes. No, I- I mean, I don’t dislike you. Why do you avoid me?” I place the fork down next to the plate.

“Well, you make me mad. I never did anything wrong, yet you avoid me like the plague.” A sigh escapes her lips and she looks at the pancake.

‘’Alright then, let’s change that.”

“Ok, Capsicle- “

“Have you been talking to Sam?”

“Don’t interrupt me. I was about to say I’m willing to try.”

“That’s all I need, doll.”

----Y/N’s POV----

The sun sits low again as I wait for Steve to finish cooking, I’ve been banned from the kitchen till he’s done, something about it being a surprise.

The smell of potatoes, canned beef, and corn wafted throughout the small bungalow. Call my interest piqued.

“Dinner is served.” Steve enters holding two plates, a massive grin on his face.

“Finally, I thought I would starve,” I remarked.

I look down at one of the plates and instantly recognize it as Shepard’s Pie, something my daddy used to make when I was younger. Steve clearly could tell because he was rubbing his hands together in excitement.

“But, how do you know how to make this?”

“My mother made it for me because the ingredients were cheap, and we weren’t exactly millionaires.” An almost bitter expression coated his face quickly.

“Well…” I place my hand on his. “Thank you. And I’m gonna say we eat this masterpiece before it gets cold.” He smiles before going to get salt and forks.

“Oh Steve Rogers, what am I going to do about you?” I mutter under my breath. I would be lying if I said the man wasn’t attractive, but now that I was able to learn about his personality and past in a new light, I was trouble.

----

The dinner was divine, and I showered him with praise for it, all of which he deflected to his mum for teaching him to cook. We both cleaned the kitchen, belting Broadway songs the whole time. The night quickly settled down as both of us parted into our separate rooms for sleep.

However, mine was quickly interrupted as I heard voices in the night, they sound pained and troubled. Knowing there was only one other person in the house, I crawled out of bed and crossed the hall.

“Steve?” My voice came out in a harsh whisper but received no response.

The door creaked open and I looked to see Steve tossing and turning, mumbling unintelligible words. I settled next to the bed and hesitantly reach to his arm, rubbing up and down it.

His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, lifting me then flipping me on the bed, sitting over me.

“I mean, I know I’m attractive, but I never pegged you for that type.” I smile and ignore the pounding in my chest as I suddenly realized I was pinned underneath the 220 pound super solider who could snap me like a toothpick if he so pleased.

“Y/N,” My name was whispered in the dark and I realized he was crying. So much for the toothpick snapping.

My right hand slipped under and out of his grasp, reaching to hold his cheek. I tenderly smiled at him and watched the hero break his walls and fall down, quite literally. I slip him off me before holding his head in my lap, stroking his blond locks.

Words aren’t spoken for at least 30 minutes. He finally looks up at me and gives a weak smile.

“You don’t have to hurt on your own Steve, I’m here, so is the rest of the team.”

“Heh, guess I’m too used to being lonely.”

I give a play smack. “Well stop it.”

His eyes almost change, as does his demeanor.

“May I…” He licks his lips, searching for words. “May I kiss you?”

“Yes, Steve, I would like that very much.”

He sits and wraps his arms around my shoulders before connecting his lips to mine. His lips are chapped, but still soft. It’s gentle, as if testing the waters before you dive in. Arms locked together before his hands move to the small of my back. I gotta say, not bad for the time gap since his last kiss.

Soon we must pull away and his blue eyes stare deeply into mine. The room is silent, and he lets out a sigh, placing his forehead on mine.

“Guess I have to stop hating you now, huh?”

“I thought you already did, doll,”

“Hmm, well I’m warming up to you.”

A laugh escapes his lips, one not held back, to its fullest extent. I miss hearing that float through the tower. It seems more intimate in this small bedroom in a cabin in the middle of nowhere city.

Guess I must thank Stark for sticking us here. That bastard.

#Mayawtf #MayaWTFChallenge #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel #marvel x reader #angst #x reader #x you

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thenightling · 5 years

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NOPE BOOK TAG!

Tag creator (A BookTube Book) - https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQt_…

1. NOPE Ending: A book ending that made you go NOPE either in denial, rage or simply because the ending was crappy.

This is a tough one. I rarely hate how literature ends. I’ll name a few comics and then move on the literature.

Novels: The Man who fell to Earth by Walter Tevis (Love this novel but hate the ending.) The Dresden Files: Changes The Frankenstein Papers by Fred Saberhagen (He writes Dracula so well but his Frankenstein Monster... Spoilers, he’s a f--king alien with amnesia. That’s the twist. He just THOUGHT he was created by Victor Frankenstein. It’s so... Stupid. The Last vampire by Whitley Strieber. Lilith’s Dream by Whitley Strieber On my Honor

Lolita. WHY is this a classic?!?

______________________________

Comics: The Sandman: The Kindly Ones. I know it’s a classic but out of all of the original Sandman this is the one I liked the least, loved the rest. The Dreaming (1990s to early 2000s version). It’s just... awful. Madman & Monster (written by Steve Niles and published by IDW). I hate the ending but like the premise.

Nineteen eighty-four by George Orwell. Great novel, just very depressing.

Manga:

Return to Labyrinth. The author (Jake T. Forbes) just wanted his cake and eat it too. He establishes that Jareth is Sarah’s true love but at the same time decides that they can’t be together “For reasons” and has Toby give a “I learned something today” speech that lasts several pages to justify it. No, if it’s true love, they’re supposed to be together. Don’t try to placate both the shippers and the fans who want them to not be a couple, you won’t appease anyone if you try to appease both.

Wolf’s Rain: It’s just so sad. Why!??

_______________________

2. NOPE Protagonist: The main character you dislike and drives you crazy.

Novels: Miriam from The Hunger, The Last Vampire, and Lilith’s Dream by Whitley Strieber.

The Vampire Armand from Anne Rice’s The Vampire Chronicles. He’s too much of a Sadist. I don’t understand the appeal. Lolita. WHY is this a classic?!

Comics:

Echo from The Dreaming (Late 90s / early 2000s version)

Riri Williams, the current writing of the Captain Marvel comics, actually pretty much all of Marvel at the moment... _______________________________________________

3. NOPE Series: A series that turned out to be one huge pile of NOPE after you’ve invested all of that time and energy on it, or a series you gave up on because it wasn’t worth it anymore.

Novels:

The Hunger book series by Whitley Strieber

Anne Rice’s The Vampire Chronicles, most everything after Tale of The Body Thief and Tale of the Body Thief wasn’t that good... The Dresden Files. I don’t know, my interest just kind of waned and also I came across a few unpleasant fans who legitimately believe women and men “talk differently” and “use different language” when speaking and told me a woman can’t write male characters and visa versa. Mary Shelley begs to differ! Comics: The current Sandman Universe comics...

Morbius: The Living Vampire (1990s run)

Manga:

_________________________________

4. NOPE Popular pairing: A ship you don’t support.

I don’t really hate many pairings...

Oh, wait. Lolita. Do I really need to explain? Comics: Joker and Harley Quinn (original versions as created for Batman The Animated series.) Cain and Abel and their sister-wives in The Dreaming (late 90s to early 2000s comics). That was just... Oh, my God. Was that just to be edgy!? For God’s sake, Abel’s fraternal twin sister was Cain’s wife and locked in attic!? WTF?!? Lucien and Nuala (also in The Dreaming late 90s and early 2000s version). Essentially “Hey, the people we’re in love with are dead. Why don’t we hook up?” “Okay! You’re good enough. Let’s settle on each other.”

Does Caitlin R. Kiernan have any concept of love, at all? Steve and Bucky. Not because it’s a bad ship or because it’s gay but because the fans who support it are so rabid and if you suggest it’s not canon they immediately assume you’re a homophobe and send you hate.

SwanQueen (Emma Swan and The Evil Queen in Once Upon a Time) similar reasons as above. ____________________________

5. NOPE. Plot twist: A plot twist you didn’t see coming or didn’t like.

The Frankenstein Papers by Fred Saberhagen.

(He writes Dracula so well but his Frankenstein Monster... Spoilers, he’s a f--king alien with amnesia. That’s the twist. He just THOUGHT he was created by Victor Frankenstein. It’s so... Stupid. _______________________________

6. NOPE. Protagonist action/decision: A character decision that made you shake your head NOPE.

Faust and his hornness for FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD Gretchen and almost everything he did because of that horniness.

7. NOPE. Genre: A genre you will never read.

I don’t think there’s a genre I’d never read. But I’m not a big fan of young adult romances or bodice rippers and torture porn. I’m not into errotica or graphic violence even though I adore Gothic Horror.

8. Nope format:

Umm.... I prefer hardcover to paperback but I don’t avoid any particular format. I do hate when the new Barnes and Nobel classics call things like Edgar Allan Poe and H. P. Lovecraft, Mary Shelley, and Bram Stoker “Gothic fantasy” written across the cover. It perpetuates the idea that horror is lowbrow and it angers me that we refuse to consider good quality horror to be horror anymore.

Anne Rice’s Prince Lestat (when I read it with wet hands and the dust jacket off) the color on the cover started to turn my fingers dark blue. I never want that to happen again.

9. NOPE. Trope: A trope that makes you go NOPE.

Long lost child that the protagonist didn’t know they had because the mother (or in rare cases someone else) thought it would be best the child never know they are related to the protagonist because their life is too dangerous / cursed / ect... I hate when parental rights are stomped on for plot, and especially when “it’s okay because it’s the mother who did it and the mother just wants whats best for the child.”

10. NOPE. Recommendation: A book recommendation that is constantly hyped and pushed at you that you simply refuse to read.

I’ve never refused to read a recommendation but I have later thought “Why did you think I’d like this?!”

Twilight “Because you love vampires.” Oh, and Frankenstein’s Monster: A Novel by Susan Heyboer O’keefe. Just because he looks like the version from the Shelley novel doesn’t mean he acted like it. That as awful.

______________________________

11. NOPE. Cliche/pet peeve: A cliche or writing pet peeve that always makes you roll your eyes.

Wasn’t this already number 9? I thought we covered this with tropes. Many tropes are cliches. Oh, well...

Oh, and “He’s blue collar so we’re going to use him as the serrogate racist / bigot now even though he wasn’t before.” (Cough) Merv Pumpkinhead in the new version of The Dreaming. (Cough.)

12. NOPE. Love interest:

I thought we established this with the ship conversation?

I don’t feel like re-writing it, just re-read that one. Same answers apply. I guess I can add The Corinthian from Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman. You know if it ever gets a film or TV series adaptation someone somewhere will find him attractive and start making errotic art and fan fiction about him...

13. NOPE. Book: A book that shouldn’t have existed that made you say NOPE.

The Dreaming Late 90s early 2000s version. I don’t really like saying any book shouldn’t exist. But there are some that are really awful sequels or insults to an established lore because of how subpar they are. ___________________________________

14. NOPE. Villain: A scary villain/antagonist you would hate to cross and would make you run in the opposite direction.

The Corinthian from Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman and pretty much any antagonist created by George R. R. Martin.

15. NOPE. Death: A character death that still haunts you.

Morpheus in Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman.

And even Abel’s death even though he comes back later.

___________________________

16. NOPE. Author: An author you had a bad experience reading and have decided to quit.

Anne Rice. She doesn’t even remotely write the way she used to . It feels vapid now. And i have trouble reconciling myself that the angry bird aliens from Brevena and the Replimoids exist in the same universe as Interview with the Vampire.

Also she’s been very cruel and unprofessional in her behavior to those who have criticized her work and “I didn’t know I was sicking people on anyone” shared negative reviews with direct links to pages on her Facebook over the years. it got nasty. She even dug up one of my old reviews for Blood Canticle that I wrote FIFTEEN years ago!

And to a lesser extent, J. K. Rowling. Her views of Americans and especially “Nomaj” (linguistically) just makes me cringe internally. Americans are the more old fashioned with language, not hipster (i.e Elevator vs. Lift, Cellular phone vs. Mobile). Not to mention cloistered religious-style orders (like Catholicism) use the same terms from country to country. This is also true with Wicca. Linguistically the American terms in Fantastic Beasts do NOT make sense.

@sorry-for-the-chocolate @thesaramonster @zal001 @missghostlymoonshadow @kaimaciel @endlessemptynight @deathlyendless @vagaryhexxx @thegreatvampirekiller @unnecessaryhorns @sweatyeddieandaliengoo

#Nope book #Nope book tag

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jejublr · 6 years

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boyfriend!wonwoo

A/N: I’m back~ (but will be away again shortly on a vacaycay lmao soz) Basically, I didn’t realize how soft I am for Wonwoo until I finished this one. Like, seriously, I had to stop myself because this got so long. I hope this is something @honeywonu would love bc that girl loves Wonwoo (But also Mingyu? Girl, I’m confused. You like him or nah?). Anyways, I have something else popping out by the end of this week so I hope you’ll be looking forward to it, friends!

at first you weren’t even sure if he likes you?

like, he avoided you at all cost like you had the plague or something

always had this weird look on his face whenever you’re around

you know which face I’m talking about

it wasn’t until you started getting these cute poems out of the blue

and you don’t know that many people who would go out of their way to confess to someone like this

fine, you only know one but he kinda, don’t like you, right?

lmao wrong bc the boy asked you out when he realized you’re not gonna make a move soon

“wonwoo, are you asking me out?”

“I–I.. no! I mean, yeah?? yes..”

didn’t expect you to say yes and he then he has the cutest grin on his face and his nose was all scrunched up

you weren’t even sure if the guy liked you at first because he seemed so distant

and it did take it you a long time for him to warm up to you but it’s totally worth it

him opening up and getting super comfortable around you reminds you how flowers bloom

AND HIS CUTE EXPRESSIONS!

whenever he’s confused or get excited over the smallest things his face just scrunches

and it’s,,, cute UGH

you guys would become the ultimate geek couple

nerding out about recent anime/video games with him

speaking of video games

bOI, is he hardcore

so freaking loud

you can be doing your chores quietly in the room next door and you’d jump every 10 minutes bc this guy is so into it

“wonwoo, istg I will pull out the cable if you don’t tone it down.”

quite but very loving in public

I don’t think he’s the type to show a lot of skinship in public so he’ll probably settle with hand holding

although~ he’s very down for cuddles when you’re at home~

CAT CAFÉ DATES!!!

the cats love him!!!

seeing him surrounded by cats and going soft because he looks so cute running his hands through their soft fur in child-like amazement

you secretly took so many pictures of him and made one your home screen shh

BUT ALSO STARGAZING DATES!!!

bc he reads so much romance?? he’s definitely a romantic under all that emo

can you imagine tho?

you guys would probably take a weekend trip to the countryside to watch the stars

you and him lying down on a picnic rug, trying to name all the constellations

him telling you random space facts

“did you know that hundreds of years from now, our galaxy the milky way is going to merge with andromeda? the stars will literally litter the sky.”

halfway through it, he’d just end up watching you admiring the sky instead

bc he’s watching the stars with someone with stars in their eyes themselves??

RANDOM AEGYO

“aing~!”

“tf? did you just..? who are you and what did you do to wonwoo?”

will stop in the middle of the street just to pet every cat he sees

but will shove you into the dirt he sees a dog lmaoo

also I would like to remind you how huge of a bookworm wonwoo is

takes care of his collection of books very meticulously

dusts them and makes sure there isn’t any folded pages or anything

“babe, not that I don’t love you but if there’s a fire, I’d save these books first. you have legs, right? you can get out by yourself.”

loves to hear you read out to him while he rests his head on your lap, with one of your hand brushing through his hair while you read to him

you have to beg him hard enough to hear that smooth-ass deep voice read to you

but he’ll sing to you if you ask him nicely enough

him singing you to sleep with his deep voice and the gentle rumble of his chest lulling you to sleep

calm mornings and tangled feet

he lives for neck kisses tbh

him telling you random facts he’s read somewhere

“did you know that water came from magma?”

“no way.”

“yes way.”

s*** when it comes to taking selfies

“babe, how about this angle?”

“no, wonwoo that’s bad.”

“how about this?”

“that’s even wORsE, oh my god.”

“yOU take it then.”

him being playful at the most random moments

like, one moment he’d be quietly reading a book but then he’d peck you out of the blue

“wtf, won?”

“...I love you.”

sloth-woo

like you’ll be vacuuming the room while he lies down singing Mr. Simple off-key

“hEy Mr. sImplE.”

“won, get your lazy bum off the couch and help me, godangit.”

holds your hand in crowded places

he’d blush whenever you compliment him and tell him that he’s cute

also he’ll probably die if you wear one of his sweaters???

“is that.. my sweater??”

“ye, why?”

“...nothing.”

but it’s not nothing bc you can see the tips of his ears getting red but you didn’t say anything bc his sweaters are comfy and it smells like him and you kinda like seeing him get flustered like this so shhh

BUT HE LOVES IT BC SWEATER PAWS UGH

also, he’ll let you borrow his glasses if you ask nicely

him being the practical and pragmatic one whenever you go out shopping with him

“wonwoo, look!!! a marshmallow shooter!!!”

“y/n, we came here for a dish rack and shower curtains, we don’t need a marshmallow shooter.”

you: :(((

proceeded to buy that dang marshmallow shooter bc he couldn’t stand you looking sad

but it’s worth it after seeing you smile

he has a hard time saying “no” to you and you use it to your advantage most of the time lol

PILLOW TALKS!!!

you guys would just face each other and talk about whatever

he gets super talkative at night

also super deep wow

it can go either way:

1) “y/n, where is the line between art and not art?” “oh my god, wonwoo, go to sleep.” “what is art?” “istg wonwoo-”

or 2) you guys go on a lengthy discussion about life and philosophy and everything in between

sends you beautiful poetry

he would send it in a beautiful hand-written letter or text messages and honestly anything as long as it gets to you

you getting texts of his random bursts of inspirations

a strong, deep bond and unspoken understanding between the two of you

you don’t need big words to show that you care around him

he knows and you know and that’s all that matter

Other Boyfriend!Seventeen

#seventeen scenarios #boyfriend wonwoo #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagine #boyfriend seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen au #seventeen fic #seventeen fics #wonwoo #seventeen

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calliecat93 · 6 years

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RWBY V5, CH11: The More The Merrier

Well, RT gave us a week off after the insanity that was Chapter 10. But hey, it had a happy ending! But if you that was crazy, hoho you haven’t seen anything yet. Lets out it this way, these final four episodes are going to be crazy and I am both excited for it and dreading it. But enough talk, lets… do more talk! Wow, that sounded dumb…

Overview

The time has come my friends. The full moon is here, and man we all know that the moon is crumbling away, but this episode really sells that. The entire front is cracked into tiny pieces. WTF happened to you moon?! Anyways, Qrow and the students are walking to Haven… with Oscar there for some reason. I guess Ozpin decided that there’s no point in hiding anymore. When walking, Ruby pauses when she sees what I assume is Mistral’s CCT tower. It looks similar to Beacon’s. From her expression, it’s clear that she is thinking about Pyrrha’s death and her failure to save her. It’s subtle, but any time that we get to see Ruby’s lingering feelings about those events I will happily take.

The good guys enter the main hall where Lionheart awaits them. The headmaster is taken back by them both having additional members since Chapter 1 and that they have their weapons. Qrow starts to ask about the councils’ sudden change of heart… until Yang spots a little birdie. One that she immideatly recognizes. Yep, it’s Raven. She reveals herself with Qrow quickly arming himself. The episode isn’t too clear, but I think that Qrow at least knew that Raven was there for something since he saw her in Chapter 9. So at least he was prepared for something. Oh, and we learn form Raven that Qrow is the younger twin between them. Good to know!

Needless to say, Qrow, Yang, and even Ruby are not happy to see the bandit leader. Lionheart is outed as the traitor, although he at least feels some guilt over it. Raven defends him, saying that Lionheart did the logical thing, looked at the odds, and make the choice that would keep him alive. Qrow tries to talk her into handing over the Spring Maiden and working together, but Raven once mroe refuses. If it wasn’t clear already, Raven finally settles any of the doubts over her motivations. It wasn’t just about survival, it is because she sees the situation as hopeless. She believes that there is no defeating Salem. What a shocker…

So who talks back at her for this? Qrow? Yang? Nope! Its ultimately Ruby. The hooded Huntress says that Raven is wrong, pointing out all that she and the others have done so far. Things that they only did because they weren’t alone. They had people to teach them. People to help them. There is still a chance to stop Salem, and Ruby offers Raven the chance to change sides. Kudos to the animators for Yang’s subtle reaction to this BTW, She looks surprised when her sister does this, as though being in disbelief that Ruby is even trying. Ruby offers her hand, outright begging for Raven to help them. Raven’s response? To remark that Ruby sounds like her mother in an almost disgusted tone.

Raven opens her portal and Ruby is hit by a fireball. Out comes Cinder along with Emerald, Mercury, and Vernal. To make matters worst, Hazel enters with Oscar recognizing him from the last volume. Hazel confirms that the White Fang has the area surrounded and we see Adam having his followers plant explosives. Sheesh, it would be great if we had a certain Faunus army show up about now, right? RIGHT?! But yeah, to say that things look bad would be a massive understatement. Qrow also realizes that it was Lionheart who sent all of the Huntsmen he was looking for to their deaths, with the implication that Tyrian and Hazel were the ones to kill them all. All while Cinder just rubs it int heir faces.

Jaune, who has been held back a lot this season, is understandably angry. Not just because of obvious reasons, but he is furious that Cinder can just stand there, bragging about her crimes and callous murders with a smirk. The poor boy is outright crying, filled with rage as he swears to make the Fall Maiden pay. Cinders only response is to ask who he is again. This is the straw that breaks the came’s back with Jaune drawing his sword, going into the two-handed mode, and attacking. Cinder makes a glass sword, and let me say that the glass weapons look SO MUCH BETTER this volume. I love it!

So we begin a massive brawl, which makes me understand why they held back on fights this volume. They were definitely saving them all for the end. Ruby tries to go go help Jaune, but Emerald blocks her. Yang is faced with Mercury once again, who demands an apology for his busted leg. Asshole. Raven sicks Vernal on Weiss, but tells her not to even bother using her powers. She int he meantime is faced with a pissed Qrow, furious that his sister has crossed the line like this. He’s so furious that he disowns her as his sister, though Raven just coldly asks if they were ever family. Qrow can only say that he thought so, but he was wrong. Ouch.

Oscar makes his way to Lionheart and Hazel looks at him. But he’s faced with Ren and Nora before he can do anything. He doesn’t want to fight them, but Nora makes it clear that they’re to give him one anyways, so he goes along with it. Oscar faces Lionheart and… wait, does Lionheart have a lion tail? Lionheart is a Faunus?! I should have realized that by the name I guess,, but daaang. Lionehart tries to make Oscar leave, using a really cool glove weapon that uses Dust to cast types of different spells I’m assuming. Fortunately, Oscar is able to use his Aura to protect himself form a fire attack before drawing the cane. This causes Lionheart to realize that he’s Ozpin… kind of. It’s not Ozpin i control here, it’s Oscar.

The farmboy begins to swing wildly at him. It’s clear that hes still not experienced with the cane since all he does is use a lot of hard swings and jabs, but you can definitely feel their impact. Plus it does work as he gives pounds intot he cowardly lion. Lionheart is shocked that Ozpin made his way to Mistral and found Qrow as Ozpin wonders what exactly happened to his once loyal follower. But then Lionheart realizes that it’s Oscar in control and.. that if he brings the kid in to Salem, he’ll have fulfill his job and he can be free of everything. Lionheart, I was feeling bad of you but you’re making it hard for me to keep my sympathy. But yeah, the headmaster is not set on capturing Oscar and the only advice that Ozpin can give the kid is to fight. Guess that’s better than nothing and hey, Ozpin can probably take over if it gets too bad.

The only fights really important for the episode is Jaune vs Cinder, Ruby vs Emerald, and Weiss vs Vernal. The latter has Vernal just pounding Weiss, who is putting up a decent fight, but she’s clearly outclassed.. Makes sense since even without her powers, Vernal is a bandit who has been trained in combat for over a decade. Her weapons are also these kind of guns that also function as throwing discs. It’s kind of cool. She’s also able to continuously stop Weiss’ Summoning, even shattering the night before it can be fully summoned. Good to see that Weiss isn’t overly powerful, as some may have claimed, it helps keep things balanced.

Ruby tries to reason with Emerald, asking her why she’s doing all of this when she knows what’ll happen if Salem wins. Emerald only replies that she doesn’t care about Salem, but owes Cinder her life. Oh honey, you can do so much better. Cinder is an abusive bitch who doesn’t deserve you. Emerald soon gets the upper hand when using her Semblance to psyche Ruby out with Cinder. Jaune’s in no better shape, just getting curbstomped by Cinder. She also now remembers Jaune, mocking him for not realizing when he’s out of his league. To make things worst, Vernal breaks Weiss’ Aura which makes the former heiress scream in pain. Cinder asks Jaune if he’s going to let her die too,. If Jaune wasn’t pissed before, then ho boy does that do it.

As Cinder and Jaune charge at each other, Ruby turns and sees the clash. This triggers her into flashing back to Pyrrha’s murder. Which in turns, causes Ruby to once more trigger her Silver Eyes. It doesn’t last long as before the room can be fully engulfed in light like last time, Emerald hits her from behind, knocking her out. But it does cause Cinder to fall to her knees in pain with the cause seeming to be from her covered left side. There’s been some theories that Cinder has Grimm-esque body parts as part of her ‘treatment’ from Salem last volume. Considering that we know that Grimm feared Silver Eyed Warriors, and going off the Dragon’s pained reaction when this happened last time, it is very possible that Ruby can kill a Grimm by just staring at it like the legend says. No conformation yet, but it’s something to think about.

The distraction causes Jaune to cast a blow onto Cinder. Nothing major, he just chips her mask off, and he ends up collapsing after it. But hey, it’s something This causes Cinder to be enrage. I think this helps show that CInder cannot handle losing. If things don’t go her way, she can’t handle it. She stomps on Jaune, angrily shouting at him for believing that he could beat her and calls him a fool with a death wish. Jaune only says that it doesn’t matter if he dies, as long as it buys his friends time. Seeing Jaune have no true value over his own life is just… man. I knew that he didn’t really like himself, but man…

Cinder, calming back down, decides to kill off any argument that exists that she is redeemable. She creates a spear that looks an awful lot like Pyrrha’s and aims at Weiss. Jaune can only watch in horror as the Fall Maiden throws it, striking Weiss form behind. With her Aura broken, the spear goes fight through her. Everyone is shocked. Weiss at first is in pain, on her knees and gasping for air before becoming motionless. The spear disintegrates into ash as Weiss falls forward.

Review

Well, ugh… that just happened… ugh… I guess we’ll start with the ending. Now, a lot of people are panicking about Weiss, and I get why. But… come on guys. Weiss is NOT going to die. She is a title character whose character arc isn’t even close to over. There is zero reason to kill her. Pyrrha’s death made sense to both emphasize Cinder’s power, hammer in that the kiddie gloves were coming off, and because Pyrrha was at the end of her character arc. It sucks, but there are reasons for why it happened aside form being part of Jaune’s arc. Which complain all you want about it, but that’s how storytelling goes sometimes. Weiss still has a lot of things upcoming, like fixing her family name, seeing Winter again, and eventually confronting her father once and for all. She might be out for the rest of the arc, maybe, but she is NOT going to die. She will be fine.

No, I think the reason for this is to have Jaune use his Semblance. At this point, I have three theories on what it is going off Volume 1 and form his abilities in Grimm Eclipse. This is pure speculation, but most likely his Semblance will be

A healing ability that he can use on himself and on others. Recall that in V1 when Pyrrha unlocked his Semblance, it healed the cut on his cheek. This could just be part of the Aura since it can minimize damage and I think when Yang got her arm cut off, the yellow ‘blood’ was her aura trying to cauterize the wound to keep her from bleeding out. But considering the situation, it would make sense if this end sup being it.

A type of shielding. I know, I know, aura can do that already. And since if the aura breaks so does the Semblance, that would make it pointless. This is the least likely of the three options I’m giving, but Jaune would easily use his Semblance on others. But when he defended himself form Cardin in V1, Miles said in the DVD commentary that this was meant to be a glimpse of his Semblance, hence why I brought it up. It could have been retconned since then, and it was vague enough that no one would argue about it, but I thought it was worth mentioning.

A bulsteirng ability. This one is going off Grimm Eclipse where he is able to bulster the power of his teammates. This would make sense since if he did this, it could reignite Weiss’ aura. She’d still feel pain obviously since as we established with Yang in V3, you can still get damaged regardless of your aura. It heals minor injuries, but can only minimize the major ones. But it would be enough that Weiss could probably get back up and fight for at least a while and give her her second wind.

I could easily be wrong about any of these, but going off past evidence, this is what I’ve got. Hopefully we find out next chapter before all of the fandom has a heartattack. But I think it’s safe to say that whatever Jaune’s Semblance is, it’ll be key in saving Weiss from death.

I guess since we’re already talking about Jaune, we’ll talk more here. Now I’m not a FIRST Member but I don’t make an effort to avoid spoilers. Mainly because I know that if I don’t have forewarning, I’m going to lose my shit. I have a lot of things to say about how fandom treats Jaune, but let me get my thoughts on him here done first. Jaune has gotten the short end of the stick this volume, and I understand why. They clearly wanted to have a larger focus on Team RWBY, the Branwen Tribe, and Menagerie. Jaune’s had plenty of development and screentime in the past, fandom makes sure no one forgets that, so I’ve been fine with him being more in the background. Plus we all knew that once Cinder made her appearance, he’d absolutely lose it.

Indeed, he lost it… and it was handled perfectly. His rage, his grief, his need for revenge, you can feel it. His body language and expressions help, but what absolutely sells it is Miles’ voice acting. This is by far, Miles’ best performance in any show that he’s been in. Just him questioning how Cinder can just brag about innocent people’s deaths with a smile. The near self-loathing tone he uses when he accepts dying for the others. All of Jaune’s anger and pain is so evident in the performance and it hits you hard. He NAILED this episode. By far the best performance in the chapter.

(WARNING: Rant incoming. If you wish to skip it, scroll down until you see a second message like this one)

Now we get onto what pisses me off. Not int he show, as I said they handled Jaune here perfectly. No, my issues is what how fans have acted about it. First, don’t even start complaining about Jaune getting screentime. Not only is he a main character, but again he has been pushed back a LOT this volume. TO the point that people started complaining about his lack of screentime, which is stupid. But if that was all, I wouldn’t be typing this. Jaune in this episode, is confronted by the woman who callously murdered his teammate. Let me repeat, Jaune is confronted by Pyrrha’s MURDERER. A Murderer who calmly explains how various people were murdered as though she was talking about the weather. Someone who, once she remembered him, mocked him and asked him if he was going to let someone die the same way Pyrrha did. And people have the audacity to call his reaction mainpain? Like… seriously? Seriously? You mean, unempathetic, sexist assholes.

I don’t give a shit about if you like Jaune or not. Yeah, there’s plenty of reason to not like him. I get that some thought he got too much screentime in the past, his crush on Weiss was annoying, and him not recognizing Pyrrha’s feelings pissed people off. Even though Pyrrha could have just told him, but that doesn’t matter. Jaune cared about Pyrrha, he outright said that she’s the only one who ever believed in him. He watched her go through a lot of agony, but didn’t know why and couldn’t help her. Then when Pyrrha kisses him, she launches him into Vale and he is helpless to do anything, knowing that she’s going to die. And she did, horribly. Her murderer shows back up, not giving a shit and again mocking him for it. Of course he’s going to be angry. of course he’s going to cry. Jaune is a human being with various emotions. What if someone you loved got murdered, they showed back up, bragged about murdering others, and then mocked you for not being able to help the one you loved? Would you handle it well? No. You wouldn’t and you’re lying if you say that you would.

Mainpain is when a guy complains about not getting his feelings returned becuase he’s a guy and feels obligated to it. That is not even CLOSE to what’s happening here. I now are gonna say, ‘they’re using Weiss to bolster Jaune’s character’. Okay, fair point. But using his crush when he hasn’t hit on her since Volume 2, THREE VOLUME AGO and Chibi does NOT count, is STUPID. He is long over that. Maybe there’s some lingering feelings, but Jaune didn’t want his friends hurt. Weiss was the most vulnerable… okay yeah Ruby was knocked out, but I’m pretty sure that Cinder wants to make her suffer as much as possible before killing her. Weiss was an easy target, hence why she struck her. All while Jaune is, once again, helpless to do anything, At least seemingly since again, Semblance reveal. But my point is, NOTHING that Jaune has done is not and has never been fueled by manpain. If you are using that, you are an idiot being sexist towards a guy for having emotions. This creates the ‘men have to be stoic and strong all the time and if he isn’t he’s not a real man’ stereotype that damages men, BTW. So either learn some empathy, better criticism skills, or just keep your moths shut. That’s not criticism, that’s being an asshole.

(Rant ends here.)

Moving on from that now, lets talk talk about the Branwens. I feel both angry at Raven and horrible for Qrow. While Qrow wasn’t happy that Raven ran away, he at least seemed to consider her family still. he twice tried to reason with her to come back and do the right thing. But Raven doesn’t see nay way out. he situation is hopeless. Salem cannot be beat. While I assume that eventually she’s going to slip away with Vernal to go for the Relic, it’s obvious that Raven fears Salem. And she finds anyone who thinks otherwise to be fools, such as Qrow and if her comment to Ruby is anything to go off on, Summer. I really want to see what lead her to become like this. What happened between her and Qrow to lead to the two’s hatred against each other. There’s a lot mroe to this story ad it’s making me impatient for a Team STRQ flashback. But still, it’s just… hard to see the bitterness between these two. I can’t even imagine how Yang must feel right now, though the death glare helps. But yeah, Raven… has a better chance at redemption than Cinder, but if they go for that, then they have a LOOOT of work to do for it.

FInally, we reach Ruby. She, like Jaune. has been int he background most of the volume. But she has some good moments, like her talking to Oscar in Chapter 5 and the reunion in Volume 6. I do wish that she had more development, but I do think that Miles and Kerry are holding it back for later on. But we have been getting small hints of RUby having some PTSD and lingering pain over V3′s events both here and in V4. This is probably the biggest example though. Just her staring at the CCT tower, it being obvious what’s on her mind. Then her seeing Jaune facing Cinder and flashing back to Pyrrhas death, which is enough to trigger her eyes once more. This is stuff that is still lingering, and lingering hard. Being faced with these circumstances again is making her go through those feelings again and fearing the worst case scenario.

There’s been some talks bout Ruby making breaking this season. Not helping is when Lindsay said that she’d like for that to happen in an interview before the volume premiere, hoping to see the rest of her team hep her through it. I do think that’ll happen eventually… not necessarily here though. I think it’s going to happen later in the series, but this volume could easily be the beginning of the setup for it. I just think that doing it now would go against the ‘triumph’ theme that this volume is going for. But hey, what do I know. But we do have the signs to set up for it, like Ruby maybe being overwhelmed by the pain and if someone else like… say Weiss if she’s still down when Ruby gets back up, is near death, that could ever well make her break down. But I am glad to see that Ruby is not fully over V3′s events and to see signs of her having PTSD. And while we all knew that it would do nothing, hr trying to reach out to Raven very much fits her character. It’s noticeable since, going off Ruby’s reaction when Raven appeared, she does not have a nice opinion on the bandit leader. But she still wants to see the best in others and inspire hope. That is who Ruby is, and I’m glad to see that still shining through.

Conclusion

Man, I didn’t think I’d have so much to say since this was mainly a fight chapter. But gosh, I had a LOT to say. I really enjoyed this chapter. The fights were really good (IDC what anyone else says, I’m never going to expect Monty-level fights again and I’d rather them do their own thing than copy it), things that have been building up are coming to a head, and as evil as that cliffhanger was, I can say that it did an effective job in making me want Chapter 12 as soon as possible. The acting, especially Miles, was excellent and it was overall an emotional, but exciting ride. I eagerly await Chapter 12 and have my angry mob kit ready for whatever they do to rip our hearts out with next.

#rwby #rwby reviews

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