#*the person in the video got almost half of his leg cut off because of the R9X missile | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

satoruhour · 9 months

Note

Accidentally sending gojo a nude and before you can properly apologise he sends a video of his own which leads to..well🫣

BABY BLUE SWEETNESS

a/n: my clit grew hands and wrote this. combined this w/ a part 2 of being gojo’s roommate / tagging @jabamin @hyomagiri @utahimeow @lov3rbody my gojo fuckers

wc: 3.7k (I HAVE GOT TO STOP WRITING SM ....)

warnings: mutual pining, roommate!gojo, dom!gojo, he gets rough but only bc he loves ur pussy sssoooo much, sending nudes by accident to gojo, semi-public m! masturbation, filming (on gojo’s end), pet names, praise, slight f! masturbation, oral / cunnilingus, nipple play, bit of dialogue during sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink (twice!), multiple rounds, implied m! oral, n*sfw under the cut

the next week goes by uneventfully.

but you think there’s hardly anything worth happening when you hadn’t even said anything about that: standing outside satoru’s room, hearing his pleasured moans along with the slickness of his hand on his cock and watching him at his most vulnerable with whispers of your name.

gojo did have a few moments of weakness — brief bouts of failing to meet your eyes, stuttering, but he was still predominantly himself after, throwing laundry on the floor and leaving the toilet paper roll unfilled. by date, he was the messiest roommate you’ve roomed with, compared to sleeping over at shoko’s and geto’s places before; sure it was obvious enough being friends with him since high school, though you hadn’t thought that the rowdy, outgoing way that he spoke would translate into his living space, too.

and despite being the one who has the upper hand that very day you decided to stop and watch, he still manages to have some sort of hold on you, catching you off-guard at the worst times.

“any luck with the mods?” gojo peeks over at your laptop over at the small dining table, your leg propped up and a scowl on your face at how you were still on the waitlist. while mr. perfect beside you has gotten every module he’s bidded for, a course on philosophy, romantic and 20th century music as well as an online mod about ethics.

“i don’t even know why you got that last one! funny how the most annoying person who has anything but morals is entering an ethics course.” maybe it was the fact that you’ve already waited one and a half weeks. perhaps it was that one piece of clothing gojo loved to leave on the floor, or simply it was just because of the man himself — you were on your wit’s end with the week.

that fades away when you’re turning your head and gojo is right there, hovering over your computer screen with a sly smirk on his face and his stupid bright, blue eyes that you could spend hours staring at.

“you wound me, baby,” gojo whispers, like it was a secret between the two of you and he pulls away, both hearts beating an unnatural speed at the proximity. gojo swears to himself he’ll never call you anything close to that or be that close because it’s absolutely not good for his heaving chest and hardening dick — those pretty plump lips of yours and the innocent look on your face — he wanted to both kiss it and fuck it.

and yet, on dormitory movie nights where you’re sat on both ends of the couch with geto and shoko between the two of you, satoru wills himself to patiently wait until the end of the first movie to stretch his limbs and get more snacks; he knows you’ll follow, too, because it’s been like that for as long as he can remember.

“you know you have to stop eating all that candy, right?” you’re saying it mindlessly, pouring more chips into a bowl and getting the hummus and guac, “it’s not healthy.”

gojo’s leaning on the counter and doesn’t help whatsoever, both elbows on the wood and head tipped back to meet your height.

“aw, is my cute roomie worried about me?” you almost want to ignore him with that little compliment, not sure if he even meant it, but you’re leaning into him this time with a little glance down to his lips that he thinks he imagined it.

“no, just wondering how embarrassed i’ll be when i have to tell the paramedics that when you finally collapse on the floor, it was because my dumb roommate had consumed too much sugar.” you like this little game you play with satoru, yet you’ve never been this bold; maybe it’s because you know he finds you hot, too, but the two of you are too stubborn to stand your ground and admit the obvious.

gojo’s feigned pout spreads into a grin and simply blows a raspberry at your explanation. there’s a crinkle of yet another sweet packet, disregarding your chastise from earlier. “smart little thing, hm?”

“i become the brightest when you’re involved,” you swipe the sweet from his fingers and pop it into your mouth, “i have to when i need to insult you.” the two of you spend the rest of the movie night hip to hip on the couch, ignoring the fire in your connected limbs and the spark of your fingers when they brush against each other.

it’s a few months before you’re fully embracing that you might not just find your roommate hot, but that maybe you’d want to “wife” him up as the other has expressed jokingly. it didn’t help that gojo is cleaning up a little more often these days, learning how to cook and using his inside voice like you told him to (you didn’t think he’d remember). the last straw was possibly seeing him fuss over you when you fell sick, switching to remote classes just so he could be close to you — his main excuse was that he didn’t want his laundry to be infected.

“but you don’t even like to use shirts half the time you’re home!”

“you’re calling this home—” gojo giggles while simultaneously shoving cough mixture down your throat, “i didn’t know we were married!”

“shut your trap before i really make you regret this.”

but gojo thinks that maybe it wasn’t so bad to come home to you in one of his future days, he just had to get through this first.

it was meant to be a simple photo to show off your new set of lingerie, the ones that you had gotten with your girls at a half-off price just the other day. you couldn’t blame yourself when your hands naturally reached for one that mirrored gojo’s eyes alongside the white details that represent his hair. buy it, take a potential nude and laugh about it in the group chat, that’s all. you felt so damn sexy in it that you even went as far as to take a few photos with your bra unclasped and phone in hand hiding your chest, until the very last one where it was fully off.

you felt unlike yourself, in that stuffy, small dorm while satoru was out in a lecture—

before gojo texts you about groceries and his chat moves to the very top that same moment you’ve got all these lewd, unnatural pictures of you waiting to be sent. it happened all too fast: at least 10 being delivered and read on the spot that your panic is indescribable and you want to melt into mush on the floor.

while you’re scrambling to delete them, gojo stares at your figure in that last racy picture, hands skilfully covering your breasts just enough that he could still see the curve of them and then down to your figure interrupted by a pretty pair of blue lace undies. it’s like you planned this, looking so delectable in your little get-up until it all disappears and you’re sending multiple messages of “i’m so sorry”’s and “it was an accident”’s.

gojo thanked the heavens he was sat at the very back of the lecture theatre, immediately booking it out of there with the images of you seared into his brain. his cock is throbbing and so, so hard it almost hurts to walk to the restroom, and you’re still continuing your apologies. he wants to scream at you — how you do not need to say sorry for whatever you’ve just sent, because as he removes his dick from his tight pants, there’s a soft sigh of your name that falls from his lips.

satoru is reminded of the times you’d be sat in your stupid booty shorts in the dorm, basically showing your folds because he just knew you didn’t like to use underwear underneath. he’s reminded of the times you had to (unwillingly) use one of his shirts when the washing machine had broken down and the only thing on his mind at the time was what you’d look like bouncing on him — he thinks that maybe he just needs to spit it the fuck out, and so he opens the video feature on your private chat.

“this is what you do t’me, baby,” gojo’s tip is already leaking so much pre-cum, making sure he can be seen, expression and all, “you make me so— s-shit— fucking hard.”

he didn’t even care if he could be heard, pumping his cock to the thought of you in that baby blue set of lingerie. he thinks of ripping it all off of you and buying you more just so he could do the same thing again and again, eyes scrunching up in bliss as his hand continues to move up and down his length. his hand isn’t even close to what he wants to feel — your tight pussy sucking him in — but he settles for it, squeezing his palm around his shaft and thumbs his tip.

“ya see this, angel?” gojo chokes out a moan when he sees another notification of ‘i really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable’ and it was the exact opposite for him in this bathroom stall, really hoping this video would drive his point home, “s’all for you, f— fuck.”

the video is incoherent from then on, because it’s all too much for him, the strokes of his warm hand, the images of your body, the sensitivity of his cock. lewd noises of him jerking off and his whines echo throughout the restroom, cumming with a slack mouth and babbles of your name on his lips.

“fuck, fuck, fuckkk…” satoru can hardly care as his cum stains his shirt, leaving his cock in needy spurts that dribble down his hand as well, wishing he could see it against your skin instead of his own. the end of the video is messy and hasty that he doesn’t even think much as he sends it, but it’s not even halfway through the video before you’re sending a simple “please come back, now.” and his heart jumps in his chest.

gojo simply shoots a quick text to geto, asking him to help him pack his things because he will definitely not be returning.

you’re so glad you don’t have any more classes for the day, too, because all you can think about now is satoru and his cock, blessed again with the sight of him losing himself in pleasure except now, he knew. your hands aren’t hesitant in reaching down to your core, lingerie already soaked through as you watch the short two minute video over and over as you lazily play with your clit with your eyes trained on his hand. it’s so hypnotising you don’t realise gojo’s already home, standing at your room door with his bulge showing through his pants and sweat lining his brow.

“did you run here?” you sit up, hands covering your chest instinctively. he shakes his head and you remove them.

“you know the bus will take too long, baby.”

you ignore the flutter of your heart and pussy when you know he says the pet name with intent, now, not in a joking or teasing manner. you want to hear it more.

“was that really an accident?”

you’re kneeling on your bed now, and gojo just wants to shut you up and make you take back all your apologies.

“it was!” you counter, not minding how your roommate slips his hand around your waist and is just inches from you, “but…”

gojo never truly loses his personality even when he’s hot and bothered, “but what, princess?”

that’s new.

you grin at his chivalry even when you’ve got your chest all vulnerable like this: he’s trying to break you with his eyes, the one thing that led you to choose baby blue in the first place. you win when his eyes flit down to your tits.

“but you still ended up sending me a video of you jerking off — hardly any decorum, huh, satoru?”

gojo rolls his eyes, hands trailing up your body and coming to rest at your boobs, “yeah. but you love it.”

that’s all he says before he dips down and takes a nipple into his mouth, leaving your hands to tangle in his hair as your back arches to give him more space. he’s so hungry, swirling his tongue around your hardened bud as he kneads the other, eyes occasionally meeting yours from your chest.

“d’you like the vid?” his speech is muffled.

“like it? i loved it—” a soft moan leaves you, “didn’t know you were such a sub, though.”

gojo laughs into your skin and you’re obsessed with the feeling, challenging him when he reaches your eyes again with a glint in his eyes.

“oh, you’re in for it, baby.” gojo grins, capturing your lips and feeling so free now that everything’s out in the open. he’s finally able to feel your lips on his, so soft and slow, making him go crazy from such a simple gesture. gojo pushes you gently onto your bed, kissing down your exposed body before coming to your pelvis, playing with the hem of the underwear.

“gotta thank this little guy for solving our problems.”

“please do not call my lingerie ‘little guy’,” you giggle, letting him remove the garment and you preen at the praise he gives your pussy.

“s’wet… is this all for me?” gojo shamelessly inhales your essence, the sight of him between your legs enough to make anyone cum.

“yeah…” it’s a whisper when you say it, breathless and impatient yet loving the way he treats you. “i get wet only for you, ‘toru.”

gojo moans at that, eyes rolling back momentarily before his mouth descends on your pussy and you think you can hear a brief hymn of hallelujah. he savours your cunt slowly, licking lazy stripes up and down your pussy and your moans match them — soft, drawn out — hands playing seamlessly with his hair. gojo’s startling baby blues meet you for a second and he smiles softly before he places a kiss to your clit.

a twitch, and satoru fully shows his expertise in the next second, eating you out like he was a starved man and you were the last meal on earth. your roommate sucks on your clit, groaning into your core as he feels your thighs close in around his head and your heels dig into his back. he switches easily to your hole, driving his tongue into the leaking entrance and his nose starts to nudge at your nub.

“satoru— s-shit!” your moans increase in volume, hands pulling harshly at his locks. “feel s’good—”

“yeah?” he speaks into your cunt, slurping up your juices time and time again until his jaw aches. your pussy just tastes so sweet that it’s got him grinding into the bed, too, relieving his cock with desperation. “was made just to eat you out, sweetness.”

“doing so well— are you close?” it was difficult to hold on when satoru was talking to you like that and devouring you so good, thumb now playing with your folds while his tongue focuses primarily on your clit again. he flicks at it and his eyes look at you for your answer, merely nodding pathetically as his abuse on your cunt is relentless. gojo would love to memorise the way you clench around his thumb, but he’s too fixated on your whines before you cum with a cry of his name.

“o—oh fuck— ‘t-toru! oh my goddd…” his mouth never stops moving even when your thighs tremble around his head and your body convulses, clit throbbing in his mouth and your mewls reaching the highest heavens.

gojo grins into your cunt, making sure you watch him as he collects all your juices onto his tongue, giving your pussy one last satisfied lick before he sits up, making quick work of his pants and he shows you how to not have one ounce of decorum like you commented on earlier—

because as he pumps the cock you saw just minutes ago, you tongue darts out to lick your lips unknowingly. as he drags the tip along your folds, you’re spreading your legs wider for him. as he slaps his cock along your cunt, your hips are moving on their own accord to feel more of him.

“filthy girl,” gojo leans in to your face, “talkin’ bout me having decorum. you should see yourself.”

you laugh, bringing him in for a brief kiss. you liked that you still could banter in times like this.

“i’ll admit i never had it, so it would b-be—” gojo slips just the tip in and you’re cut off, a choked whimper leaving you, “hypocritical to criticise you.”

“ya think?” gojo wiggles his hips gently, sinking into you and the squeeze of your cunt around his cock is too perfect, too tight. his own whines leave him as he eases inch by inch into you before you’re confessing.

“y’know after seeing you jerk off that day— f-fuck, in your room,” you mumble, wrapping your legs around his middle that causes him to moan, “i wanted nothing more than to help you clean up, cum and all.”

gojo chuckles breathlessly, you two have been pining for months? but he recovers just as quickly, bottoming out with a loud sigh. he lets your hands travel over his face, holding it in your palms.

“y-yeah? why didn’t you?”

“wasn’t sure if you liked me—” a whine cuts through your words as he takes the first slam into you.

“i’ll make sure you know how much i like you, baby, ‘kay?” gojo manages to get out before his hips moves into you, no longer able to hold conversation with the way your cunt sucks him in. he’s determined now, to show you how someone like you had a hold on him so strong that he was willing to pick up dirty clothes and take time out of his day to collect groceries. it’s not long before your roommate is able to pick up a pace, loving the way you trap him with your legs as his hips piston in and out of you.

the room is so much more stuffy, now, filled with the scent of sweat and sex as his pelvis meets your ass in timed thrusts. it was so filthy, too, cum from your previous orgasm aiding him as lube and sticking to his pubes from how much you were dripping.

“y-yeah— fuck me like how you’ve been wanting to, ‘toru—” you mumble out softly, already drunk on his cock. you swear you can feel the veins and his cockhead twitch at that, the sounds of the other filling your ears.

“you take me so, so well, baby,” gojo praises, face buried in your neck as he gives you kisses there, mind blank except for how you’re so wet that your arousal is spurting everywhere each time he comes up to the hilt in you, “taking my cock and squeezing me s’good.”

little pants leave you at the affirmations, and like always, gojo is a fast learner, already knowing your sweet spots when a hand sneaks down to rub at your clit. the circles go in time with his thrusts, and before then, you’re jerking in his arms, nails scratching at his back as your pussy spasms on his cock. gojo groans into your skin, hips still ramming into you before the clench of your cunt prompts him to cum as well.

“right there— s-shit!” you’re moaning when you can feel his cum seeping into you, the exact thing you’re imagining feeling even better as he loads you up, but you don’t have time to react when gojo flips you over. a quick glance to his face tells you he’s intoxicated on your pussy, pressing down on your arch.

“can you handle— another load— baby?” it comes out in between his thrusts, the way he begs to cum in you again and you’re never one to deny when you’ve wanted this for the longest time. you let satoru use you, face buried in the sheets below you while his thrusts start to turn sloppy. he’s not giving one fuck that he’s cummed the fastest he’s ever done before and how he’s going to do it again, but it’s inevitable when he’s got your cunt wrapped around him.

“y— yes, satoru— want you to fill me up, p-please—” it all overloads him: the way his cock disappears into your hole, the residual cum from earlier sticking to your ass and his pelvis, that white ring of semen around the base of his dick, your desperate pleas and cries.

it only takes one stroke of his hand on your clit before you’re cumming so fast again together with him, fingers grasping at the sheets as your pussy flutters around his length and you get his second load in return. it’s so viscous and hot, spilling into your hole. it’s so much, body going limp against satoru’s messy thrusts as he continues to rut into you, stilling finally when he starts to cramp in his thighs.

“attagirl, that’s it, sweetness,” gojo gasps out from behind you, staying locked in you as his cock spurts out the last bits of his cum. he presses a small kiss to your shoulder, asking softly into your skin if you were okay.

“more than okay—” a small mewl is heard when gojo pulls out slowly, sighing to himself upon seeing the way your cunt push out his cum naturally. there’s so much of it, spilling onto the sheets, but before he can take it upon himself to plug two fingers into your entrance, you’re dragging him to lie properly on the bed—

“not done?” your roommate laughs, a hand playing with your neck and the hickeys he’s left there.

you shake your head, noting how satoru’s cock is still sensitive when your hand closes around it, and you finally can see gojo in all of his glory when your tongue kitten licks at his tip and a shiver travels through his body. his hooded eyes and the buck of his hips are all you need to continue.

“i haven’t told you how much i like you, ‘toru. should i show you now?”

somewhere on your dresser, there’s several messages from your girls, but you’re too preoccupied with satoru’s cock in your mouth to notice — ah, well, you’d update them later.

[6:23pm, operation get (y/n) a partner]: photo attached (4)

@(y/n) girl where is your pic !!!! show us that cute baby blue lingerie pleaseee!!

5K notes · View notes

daegall · 8 months

Text

[10:05]

pairing: video store worker!hyuck x video store worker!reader

genre: fluff, crack, established relationship!AU, video store!AU

warnings: hyuck has a wound (cat scratches LOL)

word count: 475 words

a/n: ok . ya . im OBSESSED with the new fact check haech video i literally cant get him out of my mind istg

OH ALSO!!! jeno fic in the processs tee hee

networks/taglist: @kflixnet @nct-writers @k-radio + @soobin-chois @markhyuckselca @jaehunnyy @justalildumpling <3

"Remind me again why I have to take care of you?"

Donghyuck only grins proudly at your question, scooting to the end of the table he sits on, bringing you between his legs. "Because you are the best person on this planet and I love you so very much?"

You roll your eyes, but can't help but smile at his tone, the way he leans down to peck at your cheek multiple times, before patting his shoulder. "Mhm, yeah. Sit back,"

You peel off the wrapping of the Band-Aid in your hand, straightening it, before raising it to your boyfriend's cheek. "And how the hell did you get hurt this time?"

Donghyuck grimaces as you lightly push on the wound on his cheek, wincing. "Hey, it was Jeno's cat-sitting job, and I had to fill in last minute! I got half the pay, you know."

You never understood Donghyuck and his need for sudden spontaneous adventures, but you guess that's why you love him. He's unexpecting, and it's a good change to your tight-scheduled lifestyle.

You lean down to place a kiss on top of the band-aid, grinning at Donghyuck's shy smile, before pinching his chin. "You cut 15 minutes off my shift, mind filling that in?"

You step back from your position between his legs, walking across the room to pick up a box full of CD' and movie tapes, the one you originally came in the room for, per request from your boss, but was interrupted by your damsel-in-distress boyfriend.

Donghyuck only whines at your words, hopping off the table to rush and help you with the boxes, easily taking it from you and holding another box with it.

"How about this," He mumbles, resting the boxes by his hip, the other placed on a table next to you. Donghyuck leans in, incredibly close, his nose brushing against yours. "I can borrow a few movies from here,"

Your eyebrows raise at his first negotiation. He's the only employee who's allowed to bring certain CD's or tapes home, because he's assistant manager, and your boss just favors him for his humor and charm. You can't blame him.

"and we can cuddle and have a movie night tonight? My place, 7 o'clock. Sounds good?"

You hate how confident and smug Donghyuck looks, with his knowing smile and sparkling eyes, he knows you can't turn him down.

You raise your hand to squeeze his cheeks, puffing his lips out, before pecking said lips, and pulling away to pinch him lightly. "You take the boxes out, sort them, and get the snacks ready, then we have a deal."

Donghyuck instantly grins, his pearly-whites causing you to go soft and almost physically melt, and he leans down to leave one last wet, loud, loving smooch on your cheek. "I love you, Y/N!"

You love Lee Donghyuck too.

202 notes · View notes

leeknowsnot · 9 months

Text

rental romance (i.n x reader)

genre: fluff, retro setting: 80s warnings: none tbh, ok maybe a short mention of early pregnancy but it's not that major. it's not even relevant to the story lol

Series: Retro Series

hii!! this will be the first ever imagine that i'm posting for this blog. it will also be the first to the ot8 retro series that i'll be making so i hope you enjoy!!

note: idrk if i should add this as note but f/n stands for your friend's name ^^

links: chan minho changbin hyunjin han felix seungmin

The school bell rang, eliciting a cheer from almost every student, including you. It was the last day before summer vacation, and no one could wish for more than the last minute to end. As your professor waved her hand goodbye, wishing everyone a happy vacation with an amused smile on her face, you stretched out your arms and legs.

You could swear you heard some pop, but you could never blame your body for not feeling stiff after sitting through five hours of unnecessary lecture about accidental summer pregnancy and foolish teenage adventures during summer. You knew it was just the faculty keeping out for you and the others—considering how someone had “accidents” during the school’s overnight camping trip a few months ago; they didn’t want a replay of that.

You felt a tap on your shoulder, your friend’s grin beaming too close to your face once you turned your head. “Got any plans for summer?” she asked.

You pursed your lips, jutting it in a manner that you always do whenever you think and shrug at her, “I don’t know. I’ll probably rent some VHS and catch up on some movies I haven’t seen ever since my brother broke the VCR. Dad got us a new one after his promotion last week.”

You weren’t exactly the most adventurous person, but you weren’t anti-social either. You just preferred being alone most of the time with your movies, curled in a blanket in the living room, hogging the television set and feasting your eyes on some half-blurry movie that you have managed to get your hands on, keeping the entertainment all to yourself. Though sometimes, you’d end up engrossing the others at home with your endless list of movies to watch. Your choices were always what’s “in”; The Breakfast Club, Fright Night, Ghostbusters—you didn’t mind whatever genre it was. Except for one. Romance.

You didn’t exactly hate romance, but you didn’t like it either. For you, watching Romance movies was... well, it was weird, and you’d rather not risk it and save yourself from the cringe.

Taking your bag from your seat, you both headed out of the classroom, the chattering of other students livening the ever-so crowded hallway. Since today was the last day of the school year, it was denser than ever.

F/N grimaced at you, one of her eyebrows raising. “Didn’t you tell me you didn’t like the lady owner at the store?”

Your nose crinkled, unsure if it was because of the mixed smell of perfume and summer sweat from the other students in the hallway or at the owner of the VHS store you always talked—no, scratch that—complained to your friend about. You decided it was the latter.

“I don’t have any choice F/N, that’s literally the only video rental store in town,” you said.

“You’re right”, she gave you an expression of defeat. “You might as well date that old woman this summer, since you’ll be frequenting her shop.”

“Ew, no. I’m not into older women,” you give her a shove on the shoulder, and she lets out a laugh.

You both were cut off from your conversation when you heard a familiar honk by the street across the school entrance. F/N’s face fell, “Well, I guess I gotta go. Dad’s having his relatives visit tonight and we’re going to eat out at that same diner at the next town.”

It was now your turn to return the favor and tease her back. “Hope you get flirted by that waiter again!”

She let out a frustrated huff at you and rolled her eyes, to which you responded with a laugh. You heard another honk.

“Ugh, fine I’m coming!” you heard her groan as she walked away from you and into her father’s car, waving one last time at you before they sped off—an inaudible sound of him scolding her for leaving the school grounds late, retreating as the car soon joined the sea of cars in the distance.

⊹　　˖　　　　 ̟　　　⊹　　　˙

The distance from your school to the video rental shop wasn’t exactly far so you arrived only a couple of minutes later, on foot.

As the usual bell from the small entrance door jingled at your entrance, the familiar smell of the store welcomed you. It was always a mixture of wet wood, dry cardboard, vinyl tapes, and the lady owner’s disturbingly fragrant perfume. However, her perfume wasn’t what trickled your nostrils, but a different perfume. It was musky, a bit fresh, you thought. Either way, it was different from what you were used to.

When you turned into a corner and towards the counter, you expected to see the old woman rubbing on the back of some vinyl disc, as what she would always do each time you visit for a rental. But it was a different person behind the long wooden table this time.

It was a guy, dressed in a white collared shirt that was tucked in his jeans, and a—what even is that.

‘Is that a floral beach shirt on top?’ you laugh to yourself. You tried so hard not to chortle at his untimely choice of fashion while manning a store, but a snort escaped between your lips and caught his attention.

He raises his eyebrows at you and smiles, “Welcome! Anything I can assist you with? We have some new arrivals from this morning’s delivery.”

You could swear his eyes disappeared momentarily when he beamed at you. You cleared your throat, landing your eyes everywhere but him at embarrassment over the possibility that he could have caught you staring at him and silently ridiculing him for wearing a beach shirt outside of the beach.

“I uh... I was just wondering where the owner was since I haven’t really seen you before,” you said, trying to talk your way out of being caught red-handed.

“Oh, she’s not here. I’m the new store employee, it’s my first shift!” And he bought it with a smile. Well, he technically didn’t see you anyway since he was too busy updating the shop list, but you felt it was necessary to play safe anyway.

You nodded your head, your mouth slightly agape as you silently mouthed a quiet hum. “I see...”

At least I don’t have to deal with her cranky attitude anymore, you thought.

He walked out from the back of the counter and towards you, his whole stature finally revealing itself as the counter was tall enough to cover below his chest. At the end of the lace that hung on his neck was an employee identification card and sure enough, he is an employee at the store, seeing that the logo was plastered beside his picture—in which you thought that the logo was unnecessarily huge.

Yang Jeong In, it read.

From up close, you thought that he was cute. Well, compared to those brutes and try-hards at your school anyway. He was slightly taller than you are too, and the whiffs of his perfume reached your nostrils more than it did earlier.

“The new movie tapes are in that shelf over there,” he pointed with his thumb.

You blinked, remembering the cassette that was inside your bag—the idea of possibly making a bad impression on the new employee not lost at the back of your brain. “Actually,” you paused, fishing your bag for the cassette tape. “I’m also here to return a movie I borrowed a couple of weeks ago.”

You hand him the copy of The Outsiders that you had been meaning to return since two weeks ago. He returned to the back of the counter again, his face disappearing as he bowed his head down at whatever logbook he was writing in from earlier, leaving you to stare at a couple of his hair strands poking out from the prim wax finish that looked like it had been rushed upon application.

“It’s uh... It’s past due,” you can hear him scratch his head. “For about almost a month now.”

You let out a sheepish laugh, tapping on the strap of your bag. “Yeah, about that... I wanted to return it as soon as I finished it, but school was...” you trailed off. Yeah, not a very valid reason.

You heard him tap the counter from behind twice before he poked his head out at you with a smile. “Okay, I’ll just fill this in,” he said before his face disappeared behind the counter again.

You decided it was best not to question him anymore and took a walk around the store, running your fingers around some movie tapes and musing inside your head about what and what you have not yet watched. You stopped at a shelf where the employee said they had new arrivals. There were various titles that weren’t familiar indeed and you had the worst indecisive trait, so you lingered on your spot, staring at the multiple movies.

“I recommend giving Gregory’s Girl a watch,” the new employee from behind you suddenly spoke.

You jumped in surprise at his sudden presence, both hands clutched at your chest. It was now his turn to snort in amusement. You were too focused on eyeing the movies that you didn’t notice him leaving the counter and walking up behind you.

“I’m not a fan of romance,” you blinked, recovering yourself from the untimely fright that he had given you. He tilted his head slightly, both eyebrows raised.

“It’s both a combination of romance and comedy. It’s good,” he nods. “I’ve watched it for about five times myself.”

You stood there, eyes switching from him to the paper cassette box stacked neatly amongst the other movies. You were contemplating whether to take Child’s Play or Gregory’s Girl, but you wanted a change of pace from your usual action and horror movies, so you thought that maybe it wouldn’t be too bad if you took his recommendation into consideration.

“Fine, I’ll borrow that,” you finally gave up and he flashed another smile. Does he ever not smile? You think to yourself. Though, you didn’t exactly mind. It was cute refreshing to see rather than a certain woman in her late 50s, unleashing her bitterness over life at her own customers.

He then took the tape and wrote something on his logbook before handing you the cassette in a plastic bag and stamping on your rental booklet that they use to keep track of each person’s rental history.

You thanked him, slightly bowing your head before heading out of the door.

It was your first time renting a romance movie. You thought to yourself, I’ll just watch the first few minutes then I’ll just rewatch Beetlejuice.

Yeah, you’ll do that.

⊹　　˖　　　　 ̟　　　⊹　　　˙

You have never been so wrong in your entire life. Here you are now, standing in front of the same counter, in the same shop the next day, with the same new employee. And he was trying his best not to give you the widest, smug grin while he took Gregory’s Girl from your hands.

You rolled your eyes at him, “Okay fine, it was surprisingly good.”

He gives you an exaggerated expression, “Surprisingly good? It’s great! It’s one of the best romcom movies I’ve ever seen. Well, after The Breakfast Club.”

You held up a hand, “Wait, you like The Breakfast Club too?”

“Of course, who doesn’t? And Fright Night.”

“No way,” you rested your chin on top of the small table at the middle of the store while he placed the tape you rented back at the shelf. These were practically your favorites. “Don’t tell me you like Ghostbusters too.”

He faced you, both eyebrows raised at you. “I love Ghostbusters! It’s an icon.”

You gave him an amused expression, a smile on your face. Back at home and at school, you didn’t really have anyone else to share your enthusiasm over movies with. Not even your friend, since she had more interest in sports stuff.

Then, he started humming a familiar tune. “If there’s something strange, In your neighborhood.” Your ears perked at that.

“Oh my God,” you gasped. His head was bopping at the mutual tune that both of you had in your heads.

“Who you gonna call?” he continued before finally turning to you.

You laughed as you shook your head and your hand. “No way I’m singing with you.”

He tilted his head again at you, an expecting expression on his lips. Eventually, you gave up.

“GHOSTBUSTERS!” you both exclaim at the same time and laugh at the unison.

You held your stomach from laughing too much. “Ohh, this is so much better than having that sulky old lady around!”

You were laughing so much that you hadn’t realized you were the only left laughing. Until you did. When you recollected yourself, you saw him looking at you with wide eyes, hand covering his mouth.

Oops, I think I thought out loud, you grimaced.

“I... I mean—”

“HAHAHAHAHA!!” He slowly burst out laughing. You were momentarily confused as to why he laughed at your sudden self-snitching, but he eventually spoke. “So I wasn’t the only one who thought that too? That the store owner was really sulky.”

Suddenly, you were back on the same page as him again. “Exactly my point!! It’s like she’s got a grudge on the world or something.”

⊹　　˖　　　　 ̟　　　⊹　　　˙

From that day on, you started coming a lot to the store. Well, not that you weren’t a frequent customer before, but the new guy made it more tolerable. You shared a lot of interests, had almost the same opinion on everything. Basically, you both were like fire and oil. You’ve become friends over the whole duration of your summer vacation. However, there was one problem.

“Come on, Jeongin! This is the umpteenth romance movie you’ve recommended me, and it always gets sappier every time!” You grumbled with a contorted expression as you swiveled comfortably on his chair by the counter.

He gave you a small laugh, eyes leaving yours. “No, they're not.”

“Yes, they do!”

“Nope.”

“Yes.”

“Nopee.”

“Yes, they do. Oh my God!”

Again, Jeong In laughed at your expression and ruffled your hair. You saw his smile disappear and saw him avert his eyes away whenever your gazes meet but you tried not to read into that too much. He retracted back his hand awkwardly from your head and wiped it on his jeans.

‘Weird idiot...’ You muttered inside your head.

You both shared the silence for a while, and he had his back turned to you, but you could see his hands fumble with whatever they touch. “Jeongin, you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Of course I am,” he replied immediately. Too immediate in fact.

You blinked. Was he offended at what I said earlier?

“Hey...” You muttered, “I didn’t... I didn’t really mean what I said earlier. They’re not entirely sappy. I just... You know I’m not a really big fan of romance so—”

“Y/N,” he cut you off mid-sentence, a deep inhale following.

“Yeah?”

“I have... something to say to you,” his voice got weaker at the end, as if he suddenly had second thoughts of saying it midway, but you still heard it anyway.

Your blinked. “Is there... something wrong?”

It took him a short while, but he finally spoke again, his back still on you. “I love that you get cold when it’s 71 degrees out.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Huh...?”

“I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich,” he continued, finally facing you this time, a serious expression on his face. “I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you’re looking at me like I’m nuts.”

You blinked, crinkling your nose indeed but you knew where he was coming from. “Wait,” you chuckled. “Isn’t this Harry’s dialogue from When Harry met Sally?”

“I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night.”

You gave him an acknowledging nod, “I’ll give it to you, you really memorized the whole dialogue word per word.”

As you gave him an amused smile, Jeong In stared at you for a short while before sighing and closing his eyes. “No, Y/N. This isn’t just me... reciting the movie dialogue out of nowhere.”

He cautiously held your shoulder, his eyes boring themselves in your own hues. “I...” He looks down momentarily before his eyes are on yours again. “Look, I really like you, okay? Like, like you. These past weeks, I... I uh...”

You were holding your breath. You were looking at him like a deer caught in headlights. Yet why did you look so beautiful in his eyes still? He sighed, hands releasing your shoulder as he hung his head a bit low. Jeong In shook his head. “It’s not supposed to be like this, I’m sorry. We’ve been friends for quite a while now and I...” He grumbled exasperatedly.

“God why is it so hard to say. I even practiced at the mirror this morning,” he whispered in the last part.

Though hesitant, you encouraged him to continue. In your sight, he was so cute right now. Was it your rationality speaking? No. You’ve always found Jeong In cute but you were too in denial to admit it. And now he was here, acting like a child, botching his own confession.

Jeong In took a deep breath before finally looking you in the eyes again. “I like you, Y/N. You’re my friend, my best friend, my soulmate. And I’ve realized that during the days we’ve spent here in the store. It... may not be the best place to write our love story on but...”

He looked away for a short while before holding your hand in his. “Will you write a sappy—the sappiest love story with me in this shabby old video rental store and be my girlfriend?”

You almost laughed out loud but suppressed it with a snicker and nodded. “Yes. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

You could see Jeong In almost turn from a smile into a crying happy face but then saw it turn into a horror expression. You furrowed your eyebrows. Well, that was three expressions in 10 seconds.

You were about to joke about it, until you finally heard the reason as to why his expression changed so fast.

“I am not paying you to flirt with a customer, Mr. Yang Jeong In,” the lady owner’s voice grimly rang from behind you.

Oh, shit.

i hope you like it!! i'm sorry if it still sounds a bit meh rn, it's been a long while since i wrote x reader fics like... it's literally been more than 10 years

anw, lmk if you want to be added to the taglist (or visit my pinned messages!)

#in x reader #stray kids #skz #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz fanfic #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #jeongin #yang jeongin #jeong in x reader #retro #yang jeongin x reader #yang jeongin imagines #stray kids x reader

30 notes · View notes

johaerys-writes · 11 months

Text

Ch. 5: Bulletproof... I Wish I Was

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

The basketball court is busy with activity when they arrive. Their classmates are all there, and Agamemnon is also there, and so is Ajax with Tecmessa and her friends. Ajax grins and waves excitedly at them from the bleachers.

“What you got there, runt?” he calls out to Achilles, who glares at him. He picks up the bundle that is in the basket at the front of his bike.

“Whatever it is, it isn’t for you,” he says, drawing the bag that was covering the object away.

It’s a brand new basketball, a limited edition, shiny and rough and still smelling of newness. The boys gather around to admire it.

“Now that,” Menelaus says as he takes it, passing from one hand to the other, “that's the good stuff.” He grins, dribbling it a little for show, then lifts it and bends his knees to throw, but Achilles snatches it back.

“I brought it, I get the first throw. Either Patroclus or I.”

Patroclus shakes his head wearily. “I’m not playing today.”

“Why?” Achilles gives him a stricken look. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just not in the mood.”

“Hey, man, you can't do that now,” Menelaus cuts in anxiously before Achilles can speak. “We’ve all been waiting for you two to arrive all morning. You have to play. You’re the best defence we have. We’re counting on you.”

Patroclus glances at Menelaus, then at the other boys behind him that are watching the exchange with interest. They’re from Troy High, the nearby town’s high school. It’s practically a stone’s throw from Phthia, but the two schools have been in bitter rivalry since time immemorial. Menelaus himself has personal stakes in this match: everyone knows he has a crush on Helen, who in turn has been sweet on Paris for most of last year.

“We can’t let them come here and steal what’s ours, right?” Menelaus says, and several heads nod around them. “We gotta show them what’s what. And today, they’re going back to Troy with their tails between their legs, because we’ve got the better team and everyone knows it.”

“Damn straight.” Idomeneus laughs, clapping hands with Automedon and giving him a pound hug. The other boys cheer in agreement; Alcimedon tries to clap Achilles on the shoulder, but he irritably shrugs him off. He is watching Patroclus intently, as if he’s trying to see into the depths of him.

“If Patroclus doesn’t want to play, then he doesn’t have to,” Achilles says.

“Come on, Pelides—” Menelaus starts to protest, but snaps his mouth shut again when Achilles glares hotly at him.

“Patroclus says no, it’s a no, get it? End of discussion.”

Patroclus rubs at his temples. It’s too hot and too bright and everyone’s attention on him makes it hard to think clearly. He knows they can play just fine without him, and he doesn’t really care about the petty rivalry between the two schools, or between Menelaus and Paris for that matter, but he hates letting others down. Not when they’re counting on him.

“Okay,” he concedes. “Let’s do this.”

Menelaus grins from ear to ear, his ruddy cheeks brightening, and throws an arm over Patroclus’ shoulders in a rough brotherly hug. “These Trojans, they won’t know what hit them,” he says, then lets him go to shout obscenities at the Trojans, who respond in kind.

Achilles draws close to Patroclus, his brows still gathered in concern. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks him quietly, so the others won’t hear. “You don’t have to play if you don’t feel like it. We can just go back home, and— I don’t know, play video games or something. Listen to some music.”

“No,” Patroclus says. “No music.” When Achilles doesn’t drag his gaze away, Patroclus tries for a half smile. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine. Let’s just get this over with, okay?”

The teams separate, and they all take their positions. The game starts, and the tension ramps up with it. Within the first ten minutes, Menelaus steals the ball from Hector and almost knocks him down, then has the ball stolen by Sarpedon, who lunges forth and sinks a two pointer from the freethrow line. There are shouts and shoves and various accusations of fouls and wrong-doings being thrown left and right. It’s a rough and fast-paced game, and it’s clear that both sides are bent on winning.

“Damn it,” Menelaus curses during the time-out, raking a hair through his unruly reddish-brown hair. “Get it together, team. They’re only four points ahead of us. We need to catch up with them, and fast. Are you with me?”

The boys whoop excitedly and high-five each other. Achilles rolls his eyes. “It’s a game, Menelaus, not a pissing match.”

“Yeah, well, even in a pissing match you need strategy,” Menelaus counters. “Anyway, as we said: don’t let them break through our lines, right? That’s you, Pat. Don’t give them an inch.”

“You don’t have to keep telling him that,” Achilles snaps at him, scowling.

"I— I don't mind," Patroclus says, but Achilles doesn't even grace him with an answer before he grabs the ball and heads back into the court.

The game starts more decisively in favour of the Phthia team this time. Achilles gets the rebound from Menelaus's missed shot and races down to the other side of the court, sinking a layup before anyone else has even crossed the half-court line. The team and the crowd watching from the bleachers either cheer with joy or shout with frustration. There’s only two points separating each team now; they’re neck and neck, and any throw could mean victory or loss.

The Trojans don’t let them enjoy their triumph for too long. Paris steals the ball from Automedon and rushes across the court; Menelaus blocks his way, but Paris plants his feet on the ground instead of brushing past him, and throws. The ball hovers over the net for a bit, swishing around the hoop before it falls through. More cheers, more arguing, and then Sarpedon takes the ball and attempts to cross the midline again, when he comes face to face with Patroclus.

Patroclus isn’t quite as fast as Achilles, nor does he have a stronger throw than Menelaus, but he’s taller and knows how to guard their side well. Sarpedon dribbles the ball, tries to pivot, but Patroclus steps before him again. Exasperated, the other boy grabs the ball and prepares to throw it over his head. When Patroclus jumps with him and slaps the ball out of his hands, the entire court erupts in hoots and applause.

“Time out,” Hector calls from across the court. He eyes Patroclus warily, as if sizing him up, before turning towards his team.

Patroclus brushes a hand through his sweaty curls. His glasses are steaming, and he wipes them on his shirt. There isn’t much time left, and both teams have almost used up their time-outs. Soon enough, a victor will be declared. Patroclus simply hopes the result will be accepted with alacrity. Little hope of that, he thinks as he kneels to tie his shoelaces.

“Hey, you.”

Read the rest on AO3!

#patrochilles #the song of achilles #achilles #patroclus #tsoa #hades game #the iliad #johaerys writes

21 notes · View notes

sollucets · 1 year

Text

ocean eyes, vi

previous parts

it’s been a long time! this is my canon-two-steps-to-the-left slowish burn samdarlinangeldavid fic featuring my ocs, and here is an update

this time: ivy, sam, aster, and david meet up all together, about one month post-inversion

usual caveat for ocean eyes for named & described listener ocs: ivy (darlin, they/them) & aster (angel, she/they/he)

on ao3 or full 4.8kish chapter under the cut

“Are you feeling up to visitors?” asks David through a yawn.

“Are you?” they counter, because frankly that should be the more important consideration. After all, it’s David who’s grieving, traumatized, fully recovered from his injuries only last week and constantly swamped in administrative work for people who need him.

“I asked first,” he mumbles almost petulantly, then sighs, tone going more serious. “I can’t guarantee them good company, or… anything at all, really, but. I’d like to see them. Both of them. I can make time.”

Despite everything, Aster can feel the corner of their mouth curving into a little smile at hearing David just admit that out loud. “Okay then,” they say, beginning the arduous task of composing a text reply with one hand. “The usual time?”

“Aster,” he says, and they stop still. David so rarely uses their actual name that it feels weird to hear him say it. Like he’s upset. Is he upset? “Answer the question.”

“I— oh,” they say, frowning, and take yet another a moment to think it through. Do they want company?

💜

01/24/22

from: ivy 🐺💜

sent at: 18:44

do u mind if i bring sam on wednesday

Aster’s been staring down at the text for a solid ten minutes when David comes out of his office, crosses the dark living room, and sits next to them on the couch. The only illumination is the too-bright light of their phone screen; Aster’s been sitting in the same spot since long before it got so late.

Because he’s a literal giant, David sitting so close on their squishy couch has the usual secondary effect of tipping their body into his. As always, as is typical for wolves, he’s a solid line of heat against them. They have no idea how he gets away with claiming they’re the fire elemental in this relationship.

With a little patented David Noise, a bare exhale that’s half sigh and half growl, he shifts around on the couch enough that he can drop his head to their shoulder. His hair brushes soft against their skin where their pajama shirt is stretched out.

“Hi, baby,” they say, soft enough not to bother his ears. If he’s been on those video call meetings again, he’ll have a headache already.

“Hey, angel,” he answers, muffled by the way he’s speaking directly into the fabric of their shirt.

He doesn’t seem inclined to immediately say anything else, and they won’t make him. It’s been a long day for them both, they think, with a certain amount of mental irony.

David’s been hidden away in his home office since he got back from his actual office, dealing with budget suggestions and job reassignments and more. It’s January now, and he’s been helping send out the last of the company’s W-2s, because taxes wait for no massive community-wide disaster and the person whose job that would usually be is on trauma leave.

And for their part, Aster’s had a long, productive day off from work spent waking up at 2 p.m. just to sit on the couch and watch something on Netflix. They genuinely don’t even remember what it was anymore. The TV turned off from inactivity at least half an hour ago.

They’re both tired, is what they’re getting at here.

David just breathes against their shoulder. It’s a little hard to see in the darkened room, but he has to be doing some frankly spine-hurting contortion to be in this position. With the hand not holding the phone, they run their fingers softly through his hair until they’re cupping the back of his head, then push him down onto their lap. It’s just the barest amount of force; he goes easily the moment he feels them moving him.

He’s heavy with his full weight over their legs, like he always is, but it helps. Combination weighted blanket and heater; that’s their mate. They leave their hand in his hair and absentmindedly run little patterns through it, occasionally scratching at his scalp in a way he doesn’t like to admit he likes. (It’s a dog stereotype thing, they think.)

“What are you looking at?” he mumbles after a quiet little eternity.

Instead of answering, they shift the phone down to show him. He makes another David Noise at the sudden screen brightness near his face, but reads it and seems to consider for a moment.

This is the first time they’ve heard from Ivy since — the Games, actually. Three Wednesdays passed in total radio silence; they hadn’t come to any of the two Pack meetings this month, either. Aster knows they’re still in Dahlia only because William apparently let David know. And now, just like the fatal text that kept Aster coming to movie nights in the first place, here they are again. Texting first like they never do, using the casual assumption of someone afraid to ask.

“Are you feeling up to visitors?” asks David through a yawn.

“Are you?” they counter, because frankly that should be the more important consideration. After all, it's David who's grieving, traumatized, fully recovered from his injuries only last week and constantly swamped in administrative work for people who need him.

“Aster,” he says, and they stop still. David so rarely uses their actual name that it feels weird to hear him say it. Like he’s upset. Is he upset? “Answer the question.”

“I— oh,” they say, frowning, and take yet another moment to think it through. Do they want company?

Their immediate, base instinct is no. Anything past both their actual job and their job as David’s partner seems — monumental, right now, too much. They’re so tired.

But it’s Ivy. Ivy, who they’d last seen startling awake in their lap in wolf form then charging away into the crowd. Ivy, who they’d held for hours on the worst day of their life, who they’d called baby, who’d disappeared entirely for weeks after that. No matter how many times they’d tried to logic their way out of it with the plenty of other reasons Ivy might do this, a little corner of their heart had feared. And Aster’s missed them, honestly, just the regular way they’d miss someone they — cared about. Ivy, finally reaching out of their own accord.

There’s Sam, too, soft-spoken and awkward and kind Sam with a wicked side they’ve barely gotten to see, who Aster genuinely likes and had meant to get to know better after the Solstice.

So no, the option doesn’t sound good. But Aster has been here before, in this dark clinging tired nothingness. Everything always seems like too much; they should know better than to believe it by now.

“Yeah,” they say, at length. “I’m up for it.”

“Good,” David grumbles. His tone doesn’t get any less characteristically irritated when he adds, “Your feelings matter too. Don’t just ask me.”

“I love you,” they tell him, since it’s true and they can’t kiss him from this angle. They’re rewarded by a soft, pleased little noise in his throat and, eventually, the tell-tale even breathing of him actually taking a break.

to: ivy 🐺💜

sent at 19:20

We’d love to have you both.

“You sure I’m invited?” asks Sam for the second time that night.

“We’re already here,” Ivy says, glancing at him across the center console as they turn his truck off. “It’s a little late to back out if you didn’t want to come after all.”

Sam makes a face at them, and they soften, as they always do in the face of him. “Why are you so nervous about this? I asked, and they said they’d love to have us both.” They choose strategically not to mention how relieved they’d been to get that response.

Sam is frowning slightly, one hand tapping against the dashboard. “I’m not nervous,” he says, which is a lie, but they’ll let it pass. “Just, Wednesdays were always your thing, darlin’. We do plenty of things together; you don’t gotta bring me everywhere these days just ‘cause I’m—”

“Just ‘cause you’re what?” Ivy asks, sharper than they mean to, and winces. “Look, you wanted to come, right? You get along with Aster good enough, and you and David—” They stop, unsure how to tactfully phrase “recently had a near-death experience together”. “It’s just Wednesdays. We just eat something and watch a movie, it isn’t gonna be high-stress. You don’t even have to talk if you don’t wanna.”

That’s true enough, at least. Ivy has come unwillingly to Wednesdays enough times that they know neither Aster or David will actually make them speak if they’re not in the mood, awkward as that is (or isn’t. It isn’t, really, not just sitting in their living room while Aster and David exchange companionable insults over their head. But it should be, probably.)

Sam is still looking at them with an expression they hate, so they continue, trying for levity. “Besides, you got dinner, so you’re going to be everyone’s favorite anyway.”

“Oh, sure, all that hard work I put in on our takeout order,” Sam says, but his posture shifts enough that he isn’t sitting straight-backed in his seat anymore, like he had been all the way over, and they’ll count that as a win.

Sam grabs the boxes of food out of the back seat and they both head up David and Aster’s front lawn. January is rainy season in California, and everything looks colorful and bright. David really does love his landscaping thing; he talks about it all the time. If it also looks a little overgrown, well. Who's gonna blame him?

Stopping just before the door, they raise a hand to knock (even though it’s unnecessary; Sam’s truck is loud enough that their presence is surely already noted) and then stop. Glancing sidelong at Sam, they murmur, “And all that aside, I want to bring my mate places. Stop assuming it’s not selfish.”

Sam gives them this look, the one that he’s had every single time they say something like that out loud, awe and gratitude and guilty shock, moonsilver eyes all big and round. It’s very cute, but it makes them feel flayed open to their soul, and so they turn away like a coward and knock three times.

“Aster says ‘come in’,” Sam informs them, the edges of his words all curved in so that they know he’s smiling. He loves lording his better hearing over them. They bump their shoulder into his in reproach before opening the door.

Aster comes into the hallway to greet them after a moment, socked feet padding gently against the wooden floor. They look well, bad. Ivy immediately mentally backspaces — it’s in the sense that they look tired and dressed down, not necessarily that Aster looks bad. Ivy’s honestly not sure that Aster’s capable of looking bad.

Their mass of blonde hair is pulled into a loose bun at the nape of their neck, hairs falling out every which way, and they’re completely without makeup, glasses magnifying their green eyes huge and highlighting the little bags underneath them. Even so, though, tired or not, Aster’s just pretty, all the time, all cheekbones and freckles and piano fingers just barely sticking out of the long sleeves of a sweater.

They have the right to look tired, after all. Frankly, Ivy would be a little surprised if they didn’t. They’re sure they don’t look any better, even if they had made something of an effort before coming today. It’s been a long, bad January for everyone.

“Hiya,” Aster says, smiling in the way that sends little lines feathering up towards their temples. “Good to see you, Sam, welcome in. We can set those over on the table.”

“Hey, Aster,” he says, still audibly smiling. “Thanks for having me.”

“Thanks for paying. Come on, Davey’s in the living room being a shitty little work gremlin even though he said he wouldn’t.”

Ivy hears an indistinct noise of annoyance from the living room and finds the corner of their mouth quirking. It has been — they have missed this. Enough to send that text, despite everything (everything here including their general aversion to texting).

On the way over to the kitchen, Aster turns to Ivy and says, very quietly, so unlike usual, "It's a girl day. I know I don't look--"

Ivy resents it violently, for a moment, that sense of something dark so obviously hanging over every interaction that has clouded January. But it isn’t something they can reasonably be mad about; not here, anyway. They’ve told Sam already, and Aster clearly feels bad as is. “Okay,” they say, cutting Aster off to smile at her. She smiles back, like a reflex, and pushes a little hair out of her eyes.

Sam sets the boxes out on the table, and then they all swing into the living room despite the relative ease of just yelling at David to come in. The living room is appointed in the designated ‘movie theater’ way; Aster still hasn’t given up on that dream, evidently. The windows are covered, and blankets drape over most surfaces. One of those surfaces includes David, who’s sitting on the couch with a laptop that he looks up from when Ivy comes in.

David shows the wear much less obviously than Aster does, but it’s there, in the tightness of his jaw and shoulders and the casualness of his clothing. “Ivy,” he says in greeting, raising a hand. “Sam.”

“Good evening,” says Sam. He actively tips his hat next to them, which is ridiculous since it’s just a baseball cap. You can take the cowboy out of the South, they guess, snickering a little.

The laugh dies when they glance down and find one of Sam’s hands idly fiddling with the seam of his jeans pocket. Frowning, they bump into him on purpose as they walk a little further into the room. He’d been nervous at the Solstice, too, sure, but that’d been a lot larger of a gathering. For all their jokes about being selfish, they hope that he isn’t actually uncomfortable to be here.

Over on the couch, David puts a hand on his laptop like he’s about to close it and then clearly gets distracted, and Aster sends a glare that could strip paint. “David Shaw.”

“Yeah, yeah, I— sorry,” he says, obviously chastised, and shuts it with a decisive snap. “It’s not work, it was just Kieran.”

That sends another pulse through that hanging cloud over them all; if Kieran’s messaging David, it’s probably about Milo, who’s had to go back to the healers now that it’s been nearly a month. Aster looks visibly guilty, and David shakes his head at her, expression gone all soft.

Nevertheless, she goes over and stands in front of his place on the couch, taking the sleeve of his t-shirt in her fingers and worrying at it absentmindedly.

“Good to see you," David starts, his face halfway to frowning like it’s a reflex he hasn’t turned off. “I’m sure Aster said something while you were messaging, but we probably aren’t going to be the best hosts today.”

She hadn't, but Ivy shrugs in what they hope is a commiserating fashion, and Sam smiles much the same. “Don’t worry about it none… David.” His obvious trip over using David’s first name is — well, Ivy thought they were past that by now. Maybe it’s the atmosphere.

By the couch, Aster stays quiet, and the cloud over them all deepens a little. Ivy hadn’t realized — well, they had, but never so acutely — just how much Aster carries the socializing at these.

“Should we, then?” Ivy asks, just to break the silence, and when David and Aster both nod they take Sam by the elbow and start back towards the kitchen. In the hall, they make eye contact with their mate; Sam looks a little sheepish. They’d bet ten dollars he’s resisting the urge to apologize. “It’s not your fault,” they tell him, frowning.

He doesn’t have time to respond before they get back into the kitchen. Aster and David come in hand in hand; it is weird to see David dressed like this, honestly. Even on past Wednesdays at home, he still usually wears at least jeans. Sweatpants and a t-shirt feels like Ivy’s seeing something not meant for them.

Sam starts opening the boxes as Aster goes to get plates, and Ivy —

Well, they initiated this, and Aster shouldn’t have to carry everything all the time. They pull out their phone and go to where they know Aster keeps her speaker, putting a playlist on without asking. They keep it quiet enough that it won’t disrupt conversation. It’s a compromise of a choice — Ivy has wildly different music taste from her, although David’s interests trend similar (real guitars or fuck off) and thus a middle ground is acoustic stuff that’s still kind of upbeat. They’ve spent time thinking about this before, though they’ll never admit it.

Nobody talks much as they eat, although David quietly compliments their song choice. Ivy is never going to admit to just how much that little pride curls in their chest; Sam pokes their cheek after, though, so they’d probably been smiling. Bastard.

As she’s clearing the dishes, Aster (and David, after a moment) thanks Sam for his treat, and then it’s cursedly quiet again. Even when Aster’s been in quieter moods before, David usually needles lovingly at her enough to keep things moving entirely without Ivy’s involvement. And it’s okay to be quiet, but this feels so wrong. It isn’t like they want to be quiet, it’s like they’re all just unsure how to talk to people, like everything is so different it’s impossible to be like it was before.

And it is, but—

Ivy sighs, loud and explosive, and Aster turns to look at them with a startled expression from the sink. “Look,” they say, probably again sharper than they should. They have had a lot of practice recently in gentling the edges, in wanting to gentle the edges, but they’re still no good at comfort, at tact. Ivy would never be their own first choice for that. But, well. Someone should say it, right? “We all were in the same boat, you know. Me and Aster, and Sam and David, and all of us together this month. I know it’s a little my fault, the way I texted, but… Pretending we’re all just like normal — it’s not gonna work. We don’t have to talk about it, or we can if you want, but — God, if it’s not normal it’s fine. This isn’t a party, we’re not some people you don’t know, you don’t have to cater to us. It’s fine.”

That just sits there in the air for a long minute. The only sound is the almost perversely cheerful melody from the speaker. Aster’s face, for once, is completely impassive; David just looks mildly surprised. Sam, who’s the easiest for them to read after long study, looks like he expected this. Maybe he should’ve. He’s dealt with a fair amount of their outbursts this month, and that thought leaves a bitter taste in their mouth. Ivy’s pulse picks up, entirely beyond their control, and they swallow loudly.

To their shock, it’s David who cracks first. “Kieran told me they didn’t get any new information from the visit,” he says, voice low. “That it’s just the same as before. They didn’t have a lot of idea what to expect from Milo’s kind of injury in the first place, so it’s not alarming precisely, just frustrating for him.”

“It would be,” Sam responds slowly. “It’s a shit deal from either side of that - to tell someone ‘Sorry, but we don’t know’ and to hear it.”

“Yeah,” says David with a cut-off little exhale. “That’s about the gist of it. He’s doing his best to keep busy. They both are.”

“God, I wish that were me,” Aster says in a half-murmur. She looks a little surprised at herself, and stutters to correct it. “Not, uh, about the healers thing, just — busy. I don’t know. I am, sort of, but no more than usual, but— I’m just— tired.” Wincing, she adds, “Fuck. Sorry.”

Ivy looks at her for a moment, catalogues the apologetic twist of her nose and the worried set of her mouth, and says, “I get that. I wanted to take time off of my stuff to help at the Clan complex while Sam is doing a whole-ass extra job, but if I do it too much he gets all guilty.”

“Ivy,” Sam cuts in, sounding genuinely surprised. “I love having you around.”

“I — know,” they get out, startled halfway through to find it’s true. “You just don’t want me to derail my schedule for you, but you won’t say it, so you just give me these sad eyes.”

There’s another moment of uninterrupted soundtrack in the kitchen, and then Aster laughs a little, an alarmingly choked noise. “Same boat indeed.”

“Well, I meant it,” Ivy says, awkwardly, and sees David smile just a little out of the corner of their eye.

It’s still not fixed, precisely. The air is still heavy, but it’s cleared up a little. When Aster goes back to the dishes and David gets up to help her, Sam hums along to one of Ivy’s songs they’ve played for him before, and the silence isn’t really a silence this time, there’s a difference, and that’s — good, they did that. They’re glad.

They all start to make their way back over to the living room. When Aster and David sit on the couch in their usual Wednesday positions (bracketing Ivy, which they’ve never understood but will never question out of silent fear they’ll stop) and Sam looks like he’s going to take the chair, they tilt their chin a little towards the last open space on David’s left. Sam gives them a slightly betrayed look, but to his credit doesn’t hesitate, and squeezes himself in at the end. They just barely fit, all four of them, but it’s not uncomfortable. Perfect size couch.

Aster puts on something they’ve all seen before at three quarters volume, an inoffensive romcom that actually belongs to David, and silence settles again, but easier this time. David opens his phone in his lap, and Aster glances at him but doesn’t comment; Ivy sees “Kieran” at the top of a text chat and looks away, glancing past David to look at Sam instead.

Ivy doesn’t want to admit it, and won’t comment on it out loud in case it’ll make him never want to come again, but even with all of the heavy awkwardness of this visit, with Sam here it does feel kind of like — well, like a date, really. Ivy’s never been on a double date, but it’s something people do, right? Dinner and a movie and your partner. They don’t think about what that means for David and Aster to have been doing this with just them for months already, because that’s not anything. It’s different, it just is.

After a little while, again to their shock, it’s Sam who breaks the silence. “David,” he says, steadier this time, and the wolf in question glances over. “Vincent told me you’d asked him about his healing coursework.”

Ivy’s eyebrows raise without their prior consent. They had no idea Vincent and David even knew each other, much less well enough to be asking about this kind of thing, but — oh. Right. That whole near-death experience thing.

For his part, David averts his eyes, looking something close to shy. “Yeah, I — I probably shouldn’t have. He’s really busy right now, I should’ve thought of that, and he was good about it but I think I touched a sore spot. It’s not like it was urgent.”

Sam hums consideringly. “It probably is a little tender just now, yeah, but Vincent’s proud of where he got, and he’s right to be. Don’t get too in your head about all that.” He pauses for a second, then just goes right in. “So, did you skip over me on purpose, or…?”

To Ivy’s delight, David’s shoulders hunch up. “No, I just — well. You learned it before you turned, and Marie never went to DAMN.”

“Fair,” Sam acknowledges. Careful, he continues, “Were you askin’ for any particular reason, or…?”

With a shock, Ivy recognizes that tone. He uses it on them all the time, obviously conversationally sidestepping a topic to give them a built-in out if they don’t want to talk about it after all. It shouldn’t be so surprising, it’s just how he talks, but it’s just — funny, they guess, to hear him using it on a different stubborn shifter.

In deference to their conversation, Ivy turns to Aster, meets her eyes in the dim light. She looks back, seems to consider for a moment. Then, in one of the quietest voices they’ve ever heard out of her, she says, “You were gone this month.”

Ivy winces. They’d known after the first week that it wasn’t the sort of thing Aster was used to from them. She’d never had to put up with them being the kind of person who disappeared for far worse than weeks at a time the way David and even to a certain point Sam had, and they’d thought of it that way for a while and felt bad. And then they’d realized that they weren’t really used to being that person anymore, either, and it had all spiraled until they’d given up and sent a text after a reasonable amount of anxious dithering.

“I was,” they answer, hating it. “I’m — sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Aster answers, predictably. “We all had a lot going on.”

“Yeah,” Ivy concedes. That's one way to put it. “Sure. But I could’ve messaged sooner. Or come to meetings. Or… yeah. I’m sorry.”

It doesn’t actually make them feel better, the way Aster tilts her head and looks at them like she’s never seen them before at even a basic courtesy. “I could’ve texted, too,” she says slowly. “Don’t feel bad, Ivy.”

Instead of providing them a useful argument, like how she's always the one texting first, their patently unhelpful brain instead decides to remind them of the last time they’d argued, the last thing she’d called them, the sound of “Ivy, baby” in a tear-thickened voice, and —

No, no, not useful. They were just busy and a shit person who gets like this. It’s not anything.

Ivy swallows, reaches out very carefully, and sets their hand over hers just briefly. Her fingers are cool and much longer than theirs, and she isn’t quite fast enough to return the touch before they pull away. “You can,” they manage, looking at the familiar checkered fabric of the blanket over their lap. “Text me, I mean. I’m much worse at it, you know me, but I could… I can try.”

“You could try it,” says Aster, and they glance up to see her face, alarmed. Is she mad after all, does she —

Oh. She’s smiling, hair all falling into her eyes behind her glasses and top teeth just barely visible. Ivy gets caught, for a second, looking.

Behind them, David laughs, a low rumbling thing, and Ivy feels — good, relieved. Something had been building up in them that they’d both known and not known, and this is what it had needed. Funny how that goes.

With an intake of breath, they look away and back over to Sam, who is paying careful attention to David as he keeps talking about what Milo’s mom Marie had told him, how she’d been self-taught to a certain point then took a community first aid class.

The movie keeps playing behind them all at low-volume, and it’s not normal. They wouldn’t be talking about any of this if it were, and it’s new to have Sam here, but that’s what they’d said. It’s fine like this, familiar but different, because at least they feel — happy.

(David doesn’t make it through the movie. Aster had thought that might happen, after his wake-up time this morning, but it’s even cuter than she’d thought it might be to see him end up sleeping almost diagonal, his arm pressed into Ivy’s and his head leaning at a neck-breaking angle onto the back of the couch, mouth a little open. It’s cute to see Ivy obviously frozen in place to avoid waking him, stiff with indecision and cautious joy, cuter still to see Sam take a picture of them with a lopsided smirk on his face and promise to send it to her. It’s dangerous to her heart, but at this point, she can’t bring herself to care. It’s been a long, terrible month, and this is good, and that’s enough.)

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #my fic tag #f: ocean eyes #hey so yeah i finished this WAY faster than i thought i would #i guess my writing has only off or on anymore lmao #thank u everyone for ur kind reactions to my snippet earlier today and for still wanting these fuckers to kiss #even uh (checks) 23 weeks later #things are looking up again okay? this is a chapter for sure #were Going Places #ahh i edited this very quickly so if you see me in the document or in here fucking around no you didn't #i think it looks okay though. and i wanna be done #kisses <3 #you know i haven't used the redacted audio tag yet!! how things change

27 notes · View notes

midnight-black2 · 26 days

Note

UAAHHSHWHEBW FINALLY SOMEONE WRITING FOR DOM READER😭

anyway can u write anything about Kai please 🥹 (I always thought he would be a perfect sub lol)

-𝘹𝘰𝘹𝘰

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒

pairing : kai (from voyagers) x reader

synopsis : kai needs to be put in his place, and who better to do it than you?

disclaimers : sub!kai, dom!reader, degradation, handjob, masochist!kai (only a little), mean!reader, kinda fast pace (sorry)

note : i had to watch voyagers to make this, but it was so worth it because like why is kai so fine?? like he's an asshole, but a hot one. anyways, hope you like this !

kai had been acting like an ass-kissing, cock-sucking dickwad ever since richard died.

for some context, he sucked up to zach, the person you hated most out of the entire crew. he would laugh at all of zach's rather rude jokes, they would walk through the ship halls together, standing tall with unnecessary pride as if they were God or something. you weren't quite sure what was happening, but you knew it had to do with the blue.

kai was a smart, sweet boy. but that was before. he would cross his legs at the table, speak with manners, he would even service others at times, especially you. whether it was making a plate for you (he seemed to always know what you wanted to eat), or carrying heavy things for you. but that was before. all of it was before. before everyone stopped taking the blue. before richard died. before you all needed a new group leader.

it all went to shit.

every single little thing. there was no in between, you either followed all the rules, or broke all of them. you believed in balance, it was the only thing that keeps people sane, yet there was none. you had been going crazy for weeks. with all of the noise, the ferocity, the smell of sweat and sex, everything was so overbearing, and nobody did anything about it. so when kai got hit in the head as a result of a fight and there was a meeting called over it, you were fed up. blue got rid of the emotions, and now that there wasn't any blue, and the emotions were getting in the way of everything.

"i for one don't know if there is an alien," the girl spoke. you didn't know her name, all you knew was that she was constantly doing the right thing. she was a little boring, but you didn't hate her or anything. her eyes were lowered, not daring to look zach or christopher in the eye.

"who cares what you don't know," zach spoke, annoyedly. you clenched your jaw, couldn't he just let the girl speak?

"if we repair the damage we can watch the surveillance video and-" she was cut off by zach.

"shut your fat, puss-filled face," you scoffed. how low, even for him. you saw the way kai snickered, you felt like slapping the two of them then and there. you pinched kai's right thigh, giving him a look of warning. he looked over to you, he gulped, yet rolled his eyes anyway.

"i have a right to talk," she responded, finally looking zach in the eye.

"you talk enough as it is, you bloated wheezing blister," he countered, with a smirk. everyone started laughing, including kai. you felt your blood boil. she was only trying to make a point.

"zach, she can talk," christopher interfered.

"you shut up too," zach muttered. he went on, and it escalated. it almost ended in the same way the fight ended last time. it was all a blur--everyone split up. kai and half of the others followed behind zach. you had it with him. you gripped his arm harshly. you pulled him down the hall, luckily no one noticed the two of you leave.

"y/n," kai called, brows furrowed, he was a bit angry. "y/n, what are you doing?"

"shut up," you ordered, through gritted teeth. he quickly complied, his breath hitched. you went inside an empty sleeping quarter, shutting and locking the door.

"you've been such a fucking brat lately, kai,"

"y-you can't do anything about it," he replied, stuttering, voice shaky. he knew damn well you could. you had this odd sort of control over him he couldn't quite understand. with the snap of your fingers he would be on his knees, consciously or not.

"yeah? watch me," you challenged. you crossed your arms over your chest, your patience was growing thin. "strip."

"w-what?" he was shaking slightly, eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips.

"you heard me, strip." he listened. it seemed an ounce of obedience was still left in him--only for you, though. he started with his shirt, pulling it over his head. he was lean, toned. you couldn't help but stare, you would've smirked if you weren't so frustrated. he felt your eyes, they were gaping burning holes all over into his body.

he slowly unbuttoned his pants, pulling them down, leaving him in only his boxers. you walk over to him, and grip his raging hard-on.

"all you do anymore is think with your stupid cock," you spit out, looking him right in the eye. he let out a soft whimper. you swiftly backed him up against the nearest wall. you were surely manhandling him, but who was he to tell you not to? you pulled down his boxers, and they sat at his feet. he breathing picked up.

it was embarrassing, to say the least. he was naked and you were completely clothed. he felt so vulnerable, but it was even more embarrassing that he liked it. your hand wrapped around his cock, you squeezed quite harshly. you had forgotten how big he was, probably a good 8.5" when hard.

"fuck, y/n," kai groaned. did it hurt? yes. did it only enhance his pleasure? also yes.

"seriously kai? you get in a fight over a girl. you get hit in the head with a metal rod, yet you're over here whimpering like a bitch when i simply squeeze your dick? a little pathetic," you utter, a brow arched.

"please," he let out, subconsciously. he cursed himself internally, he knew you would only be harsher on him now.

"please what, kai? please fucking what? i don't feel like giving you shit. you take what i give you," you responded. you brought your fingers to his mouth, thumb prodding at his lips. "open."

he did as he was told, and allowed your fingers to explore his mouth. you pushed them as deep as they'd go before he gagged softly. he shut his eyes. as humiliated as he felt, your fingers were quite warm. you took them out, and he sort of disliked the absence of you digging around in his mouth. god, he thought he was so weird.

your hand returned to his cock, wrapping around it and pumping up and down quickly, without warning. he cried out, gripping your shoulder.

"goodness, look at you. wish someone would walk in right now. hear the way you moan and whine weakly. they'd figure out so quickly you're not quite as high and mighty as you make yourself out to be," you chuckle, looking at him writhe. although he was taller than you, it still felt as though he were underneath you.

"s-shit, y/n," he moaned, hips bucking. your free hand gripped his waist, keeping it pinned to the wall.

"stay still." you instructed, your hand on his cock speeding up a bit. kai's knees buckled, he felt his mind was mush, he was shaky and all thoughts of you consumed him.

"fuck y/n, i think im gonna cum," kai warned, opening his eyes to take a peek at you. he couldn't handle it. the way you looked so angry, so ready to snap him in half. if he kept looking at you, he would surely cum right that second.

"already? that's a little sad, don't you think?" you teased, hand on his waist making its way up his chest. you pinch his left nipple harshly, and he whimpers once again.

"oh my god," he moans. you could feel his entire body shaking and jolting with every move you made. "can i?"

"cum? i don't know. why should i even let you?" you asked, only wanting to hear him beg.

"please. fuck, please let me cum. i need to i really need to. i'm sorry! i'll-ill keep my mouth shut when you want me to," kai pleaded. you, at last, gave in.

"go ahead, cum," you said. he let go with a loud moan, anyone directly outside the door could probably hear. you moved to the side just in time so his mess wouldn't touch you.

"o-oh, fuck," he panted, sliding down the wall, sitting on the floor. you kneeled, your hand placed on his cheek.

"you learn your lesson?" you asked, smirking complacently.

"maybe." you rolled your eyes at his response, but couldn't help the smile that followed.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐤𝐲𝐚-𝐢𝐬-𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐥

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐲? 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

#dom!reader #dom reader #kai voyagers #kai x reader #voyagers #archie madekwe #smut

92 notes · View notes

teddy06writes · 3 years

Note

I feel there isnt enough sapnap x karl x quackity x reader, so can I request sap x karl x quackity x y/n where everone js tired at the end of the day, and despite having separate rooms, they all collapse together in one person’s bed

sapnap x karl x quackity x reader (HOLY SHIT THE POLY SHIP REQUESTSSSSSSS)

Trigger warnings: swearing

premise: vidcon pannels and meeting fans can be tiering, and maybe by the time the day is done you and all of your crushes collapse into bed together without realizing until the next morning ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

“Blep” talking

‘blep’ thinking

(y/n/n)- your nickname

(y/s/n)- your screen name

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

Ah vidcon, a content creators dream, or worse nightmare, or in your opinion, wild trip that lasted three days.

It was your first time seeing anyone from the Dream SMP in a while, and your were practically buzzing with excitement by the time you were getting off the plane in California.

You fiddled with your carry on as you made your way towards baggage claim, grinning upon hearing a yell of “Oh my god is that (Y/n) from the internet!?”

You turned to see Alex standing just outside the gate he’d landed at, quickly you ran to hug him, stomach filling with butterflies at his touch. “Wait it’s Alex from the internet!”

You both laughed as you pulled away, starting back to baggage claim, “Are you excited for vidcon?” He asked.

“Yeah, what I’m not excited for is having to share a house with you idiot for a weekend.”

He scoffed, “What do you mean? It’s gonna be fun!”

“Oh yeah, the entire SMP together in one house, is such a good idea. It’s gonna be chaos!”

“That’s the fun part!”

“I like to sleep at night without being interrupted by random screaming and stuff.” You argued.

“I’m sure there won’t be random screaming.”

“You seriously underestimate Tommy.” By now you had made it to baggage claim and began to look around for the right carousel.

You split up, planning on meeting back by the door to wait outside for Bad, who had arrived the day before and was picking people up, a few at a time.

After waiting at one carousel for a few minutes your suitcase came rolling out, but as you went to grab it someone else grabbed it from behind you, a familiar voice drawling, “Hey, hey.”

Grinning you turned to see Nick smiling back at you, “Hey yourself.”

He hugged you, and again your stomach filled with butterflies.

Pull away you smiled, “Come on, I think I left Alex just over there.”

Grabbing your suitcase in one hand, and his hand in the other you tugged him off toward where you’d left Alex, calling, “Alex look who I found!” as soon as he was in view.

Nick dropped your hand to grab Alex’s to pull him into a hug, and you found yourself fighting a grin at how red Alex's face turned.

“Bad texted me that he’s almost here!” You announced after checking your phone.

“Who else is he picking up?” Nick asked.

“Uhhh,” You pulled the messages back up, “Karl and Fundy, and then Wilbur is supposed to be getting another rental car and driving the rest of the Europeans when they get here, minus George cause apparently he also flew out early.”

You all headed out towards the pick up area, weaving through the crowds of people you felt Nick grab the back of your shirt, and when you looked back at him in question he muttered, “So I don’t lose you Idiot.”

All you could do was hope your face was clear of any blush as you smiled back.

You all ended up stood near the curb when a voice cut through the chatter, “Hey gu-uys!”

“Karl!” The three of you exclaimed as he ran through the crowd towards you.

Upon reaching you he some how managed to get his arms around all of you enough for a group hug, and you laughed, “Shouldn’t you be at the other gate?”

“Yeah, but I thought I saw you guys so I came over here, and I was right!”

Alex cocked an eyebrow, “What if it wasn’t us?”

“uhhh, I dunno, awkwardly ran at random people?”

You all laughed, and Nick scoffed, “You’re ridiculous.”

After a few more minutes of waiting, a car slowed near the curb, Fundy’s head practically falling from passenger window, “I’m looking for some youtubers, dumb American ones, you seen any?”

Bad smacked him, “they aren’t dumb, hey guys!”

You waved at them as the guys started loading their suitcases into the back of the car, and after Karl insisted he take yours as well, you slid into the back seat, “What’s the house situation like?”

“It looks like just about everyone will get there own room,” Bad reported, “But Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo and Purpled are sharing the room with the bunk beds, because Clay designated it as the kids room.”

You snickered as Alex climbed into the back next to you, leaving Nick and Karl to take the spots in the middle row of the van.

“And obviously cause Kristen’s coming she and Phil are sharing, and then Eret said he, Puffy, and Niki would take the room with the double beds,” Fundy offered, “Which means the rest of us should get single rooms.”

Alex elbowed you, “Told you wouldn’t get stuck with random screaming.”

“Oh there's still time for that.”

After getting to the airbnb and racing Fundy for one of the bigger rooms that was left (it was decided Phil and Kristen would get the master bedroom, and Clay had already claimed the biggest guest bedroom), you dropped your suitcase in one corner and brought your toiletries bag in the shared bathroom between your and Nick’s rooms, before flopping back onto your bed.

No more than three minutes passed before Karl wandered into your room, flopping down next to you, “Ranboo and Sam are making nachos, and Dream and Nick found a foosball table in the garage, so a mini tournament is being organized if you want in.”

“Foosball?” You questioned.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be fun.”

You allowed him to tug you up, and followed him down from the left hall of bedrooms, through the living room and to the connected garage where George was yelling over everyone to try and form teams.

“Me and (Y/n) are a team!” Nick announced, grabbing your hand to pull you towards him.

“Okay, that leaves Big Q and Karl as the last team for now! When other people show up they can join.” George announced.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of foosball games, nacho’s nearly being spilled everywhere and the rest of the people arriving.

The next day was the first day of vidcon, and after getting dressed in some casual clothes you grabbed your laptop and headed out to the living room, mostly empty in the quiet house, with the exception of Tubbo, who was flipping through tv channels, and Phil, who was tinkering around in the kitchen.

“So what’s your plan for the day?” Tubbo asked, finally having settled on a baking show.

“Uhh, stress about the panel until it’s time for the panel, hang out, maybe find a pizza place, you?”

“Me and Tommy are just gonna wander the convention center most of today cause I don’t have anything until the meet and greet tomorrow, then when he has to go I think me, Ranboo and Fundy might be going to mess with dream george and sapnap during the dream team panel. What’s you first panel about?”

You glanced back down at your laptop, “It’s listed as ‘small creators with a big part’”

From the kitchen you heard Phil chuckle.

“Oh cool.” Tubbo smiled, turning back to his show.

You looked back down at your laptop, reading over the possible sample questions and discussion topics, you wanted to be mentally prepared for this.

At some point, as the rest of the house began to stir Alex shuffled out from the hallway and plopped down in between you and Tubbo on the couch, throwing his legs up in your lap.

“Good morning.”

He groaned, “Why is it so early?”

“It isn’t,” you laughed, flicking at his forehead, “Your just jet lagged.”

“Is there coffee here?”

As if on cue Nick, who had come over from the kitchen, offered him a mug, “Phil made a big ass pot of it.”

“Oh thank fuck!” He took the cup greatfully.

Nick smiled, handing you the other mug before going back for his own as Karl flounced into the room and plopped down on the other couch, “Good morning!”

“Morning Karl!” You smiled.

“oooo, are we watching cake wars?” He asked excitedly.

Tubbo nodded and launched into an explanation of what had happened so far in the episode.

Eventually everyone woke up and was gathered around in the living room and kitchen, drinking coffee and tea as they planned for the day.

“Well if most of us have different things planned why don’t we just plan to meet back up here before dinner?” Niki suggested.

A half asleep Wilbur nodded, “Sounds like a good idea.”

Techno snickered at his grogginess, elbowing him lightly, “I guess the first panel really will be sleepy boys inc.”

If Wilbur had been fully awake he probably would’ve elbowed him back, but instead just muttered, “Shut up.”

“Okay! So we meet back here for six yeah?” Bad asked.

Everyone nodded, and disappeared back to their various places around the house to get ready.

Back in your room you put your laptop away and got the last of your things ready for the panel, even though it wasn’t starting for a few hours.

“(Y/n)! Your panel’s at 12 right?” Nick half yelled through the open bathroom doors.

“Yeah?”

“Okay cool, do you wanna come with me, Alex and Karl? Apparently Jimmy and all them just got in.”

“Sure.”

You had talked to the famed, ‘Mr. Beast’, a few times, and had even been in one or two of his gaming videos, so before you knew it Alex was stealing the keys to one of the rental cars and you were off.

“Yeah we just left the airbnb.” Karl, said into his phone. There was a pause before he said, “Oof, I’m glad I came out early then.” Another pause and then he laughed, “Nimrods. We can stop for food if you want?”

A few minutes later he ended the call, leaning up between the front seats, “The gang requires food, we’re taking a pit stop to taco bell.”

“Taco bell? At 9 in the morning?” Alex questioned.

“Yeah apparently the nimrods forgot to get food before they left the airport, and now their stuck in traffic. We’re gonna meet them at the hotel.”

You chuckled, “Sounds like a Jimmy move. Let me guess, they forgot because none of them slept and they took a red eye?”

“What the fuck is a red eye?”

You looked back at Nick, incredulous, “You don’t know what a red eye is? Oh my god you privileged fool!”

Alex snorted, “It’s a really early flight Nick. Like, a you get to the airport for 11pm, and end up eating breakfast when you get to the other airport, flight.”

“Or, a get to the airport for anytime between 11pm and 4am and regret your life choices while waiting for your plane.” You offered.

“In other words, hell.” Alex finished, pulling into a drive thru.

“Yikes, why would anyone do that?” Nick asked.

“It’s cheap.” Karl said.

“Planes are less crowded, so are the airports.” Alex added.

You smiled, “I do it for the feeling of a lineal space. There's no vibes like airports from 11pm to 4am.”

They all laughed, and Karl quickly unrolled his window to order an ungodly amount of food.

Unsurprisingly, after that the day passed in a blur, the panel going pretty well, and then the impromptu meet and greet outside the meeting hall, trying to make it through the convention center with Clay and Nick without being mobbed, and then suddenly everyone was back at the airbnb getting ready for dinner.

“(y/n) you bitch why are you taking so long in there!” Tommy yelled through the bathroom door.

“I’m trying to fix my hair from when you threw water at me prick! There's five other bathrooms in this house go find another one!” You yelled back.

Distantly you could hear Bad yell, “Language!”

“Everyone is in the other bathrooms!”

Giving up on your hair you set the brush back down and recapped the container of paste, turning and opening the door to your room, “Alright, fine.”

“That wasn’t that hard was it?” Tommy asked, moving past you into the bathroom.

“Don’t touch my stuff.” You instructed, striding out of the room and down the hall.

Out in the living room Eret was humming as they cleaned up the last of the later Tommy had gotten everywhere as the rest of the group started to assemble.

Once everyone was finally ready, and the final arguments of who would take which car, you were shoved into the back of one of the vans with Karl and Alex, making all of the anxiety that had dissipated after the panel came flooding back, especially when Nick, who was sitting on the bench seat in front of you, turned to join the conversation.

The night was spent trying to keep blush off your face whenever Karl’s knuckles brushed yours, when Nick’s arm found it’s way around the back of your chair, or when your and Alex’s knees bumped.

‘God’, you had thought, ‘this is like some romcom shit.’

After Tommy’s fail attempt to steal a set of car keys and try and drive home -Phil smacked him upside the head, Niki snatched the keys from his hand, Kristen started to lecture him, all while the rest of you laughed your asses off- The bill was paid, and everyone piled back up into the cars, already starting to plan a movie night.

Upon getting back to the airbnb, you headed back to your room to change back into the hoodie and comfortable pants you had been wearing earlier, heading back into the living room in time to steal Punz’s seat on the couch with Nick and Karl.

When Alex squeezed into the spot between you and Nick, you could’ve sworn you saw Techno smirking and Puffy waggling her eyebrows toward you, how they found out about your stupid group crush you had no clue, but then Clay and Skeppy started to argue over what movie to put on.

Tubbo ended up taking the remote from Clay, and from where he was sitting In front of one of the couches, tossed it over to Phil on the other side of the room, who said, “We’ll do a vote then!”

A movie was selected democratically, some cheesy action movie began to play, and at some point you half turned, propping your legs up across the boys laps as Alex maintained a running commentary on the movie, just loud enough for you and Nick to hear, and Karl absently traced small shapes into your ankles.

The second day of vidcon was the most hectic, with you, Nick and Alex were going to watch the Mr. Beast panel Karl got to be a part of, plus both the dream smp panel and the meet and greet later in the day.

You had woken up to Karl and Alex jumping on top of you, “Wake up! You’re gonna be late!”

You groaned, struggling to shove them off, “What time is it?”

“8:27.” Alex said, sliding off your bed.

“Fuck,” You muttered, “Get off me, what the hell happened to my alarm?”

“You left your phone in the other room, when it went off it woke us up.” Karl explained.

“He means it woke him up and he felt the need to wake me up,” Alex complained as you sat up now free of the people laying on you, “Why the hell is your alarm set so early?”

“It’s not early, I just wanted to be able to get ready without being in anyone’s way.”

Karl nodded, “Makes sense.”

“C’mon, let’s give them time to get ready.” Alex grabbed Karl’s arm, half dragging him out of the room.

You quickly got ready, pulling on a nicer button down, plus a jacket that was one of the first from your new merch line.

You finished your hair, plugged in your phone and headed out to the kitchen where Fundy seemed to be attempting to make pancakes, dragging Karl into the process as well.

You sat down next to Alex and Ranboo, “How long do you think until they burn the house down?”

“I am not going to burn the house!” Fundy exclaimed.

You reached over and turned down the heat on the griddle, “Well you were gonna burn something.”

Ranboo snickered, “They aren’t wrong.”

“Shut up Ranboob!” Fundy retorted.

They continued to bicker as Tubbo emerged from up stairs, shoving Fundy out of the way to take over the griddle. “You’re all ridiculous.” He muttered.

“Yeah no shit.” You sighed.

“Language!” Bad yelled from the dining room.

“French!” Eret called back as she entered the kitchen, “Morning guys!”

“Morning!” Tuboo chirped, starting to flip some of the pancakes.

“It’s panel day!” Tommy yelled, charging down the stairs, “Those best be chocolate chip Tubbo!”

Karl held up the bag of chocolate chips he been scattering into some of the pancakes, and Tommy grinned, “Karl my man!”

Once breakfast was eaten and the dishes cleared everyone loaded back up into the cars to head to the convention center, everyone splitting up again, planning to meet back in the right area in time for the full panel.

Karl headed off to meat with Jimmy and the guys as You Alex and Nick took spots in the audience.

Once they took to the stage Nick leaned over and elbowed Alex, “Bet you 10 bucks when they open for questions you don’t go up just to flirt with Karl.”

Alex glared at him, “10 bucks isn’t worth it.”

You held back a laugh, “I’d throw in another 20.”

Alex considered this with a sigh, “Deal, but only if we get milkshakes later.”

You and Nick agreed, and soon enough when they opened up for audience questions Alex started to stand up, but immediately sat back down blushing slightly, “No.”

“Damn.” Nick sighed. ��We’re still getting milkshakes.”

Once the Mr. Beast panel had ended you all went to meet up with Karl and head off to the dream smp panel.

2 o'clock rolled around and the panel moderator began to announce everyone, one by one, and you managed to force down your anxiety, taking your place on the stage between Karl and Nick when the mod called, “(y/s/n), one of the first people to actually join the dream smp.”

You sat down, smiling at the audience and quickly sneaking out your phone to take a quick video of your friends and then a pan of the crowd to put on twitter later.

Once everyone was on stage the moderator looked up and down the long table, “Wow, there are a lot of people on stage right now, is this everyone from the server?”

Clay nodded, “Just about, we have a few others, Alyssa, Callahan, Ponk and Antfrost, who had other stuff going on, but for the most part, this is everyone from the server.”

“This is honestly incredible, how, how are you guys all feeling about being here? I know this is the first Dream SMP panel, but you guys have been to vidcon before right?”

“Most of us,” George laughed, “I think the only one who hasn’t is (y/s/n), there first ever panel was yesterday.”

The mod looked over at you, “So, how does it feel to be at your first vidcon?”

You laughed nervously, “Well, I mean, I’ve been to vid con before, but I was always out there in the audience, it’s- it’s pretty nerve wracking to be up here.”

The topic shifted and after that things seemed to move more quickly.

In the blink of an eye the first hour and a half was spent and people from the audience began to ask questions.

“Wilbur, as the main writer for roleplaying on the server is it hard to keep track of character specifics and story arcs or is it all just written in with the scripts?”

Someone asked.Wilbur hummed, “Well I guess in part it’s written in the scripts, but I think I should turn this question over to (y/s/n), they’ll have a more interesting answer.”

Everyone turned to you.

“Well, in my mind it isn’t all that hard, but I am literally the kid who memorized long monologues for fun.” You chuckled, “Once the first revolution arc started and the server really started to turn to roleplaying I started a google doc that now gets updated constantly. I have running tabs on current arcs, details on arcs that have ended and then there's detailed character descriptions.

“I don’t necessarily write down bits to add while I’m streaming or anything, but most of the time it has to be the middle of the night or I won’t file anything correctly.”

Nick chuckled, “I have seen the document, it is terrifying.”

“Didn’t someone open it to see you updating in the middle of the night once?” Ranboo asked.

Alex nodded, “Yeah that was me, it was very traumatic, like, I blinked, and then there was another fifty words on the page.”

You dropped your head in your hands, “It was the night after the whole election thing! Techno joined the server and then I had to add a whole ‘nother character profile, and he and his stupid English major were making things complicated!”

“Listen man, I just wanted to make sure I had a backstory that fit into the story line, ‘s not my fault when Wilbur lets Dream have partial control of thing the storyline ends up non cohesive.”

People laughed, and the topic was changed with the next question.

Two and a half hours later, an extra hour after the panel was supposed to end, (there was just so many extra questions), you headed off stage, and were all rushed across the center for the meet and greet, which had been pushed back in time with the panel.

You felt bad for making the fans wait, but the organizers assured you that it was fine, most of the fans had been at the panel anyway.

In the big open hall the orginizors spilt everyone up into groups of threes and fours, the way fans could move down the line and see everyone.

Inevitably you ended up with Karl, Nick and Alex, at the end of the long sections of people.

“Holy shit man, how is it already 6?” Alex asked.

“Who knows.” Nick muttered glancing down at his phone.

“Dude this is supposed to go for like three hours too.” You complained, rocking up on your heals to look down the line, seeing the first groups of people starting to move past Tommy, Tubbo and Fundy.

“We’ll be fine! It’s always fun to meet fans!” Karl said, though he did look slightly wary.

After another three hours of talking to fans, signing things, and taking pictures the last group of people finally made it to your section.

“Hey! They saved the coolest for last!” The boy exclaimed.

“Hell yeah they did!” Alex half yelled back, some how still managing to keep up the enthusiasm.

“Here, let’s get you guys all in a picture together!” His mother said, motioning for you to all stand together. You slung an arm around the kids shoulder, smiling at the camera. “

“Okay serious question time, which one of us is the best?”

“Uhh,” the boy looked from person to person, “probably you (y/s/n), your contents really cool but your under rated.”

You grinned, offering him a fist bump, “ha! See that’s the third person in the last hour!”

Karl scoffed, “but I got like six people over all.”

“I only got five.” Alex pouted.

You rolled your eyes as the boy asked, “So if you guys are in a poly relationship on the server does it create problems with your friendship in real life?”

You all froze, except for Nick who somehow seemed to know this was coming, “Well, in game and out of game relationships are different, sure you can ship all you want, but that doesn’t mean stuff actually happens in real life.”

The kid nodded, “Cool, hey I saw your stream like, during quesrentine, just a question, how many people have tried to fight you today?”

You laughed, “at least 15 took pictures with him squared up.”

A few minutes more and the kid was gone, being ushered away by his mom, and you glanced at your phone, “holy shit it’s already 9:15.”

“Where did the time go?” Kale asked incredulous.

After meeting back up with the rest of the group you all headed off to terrorize a McDonald’s, drawing a lot of attention from random fans as you all scarfed down food.

By the time you got back to the Airbnb it was nearly 11pm and everyone was exhausted.

After quickly getting ready for bed you a collapsed.

The next morning you woke up, and for a moment worth your eyes still closed you were perfectly content with the warmth pressed agasint you.

Then you came fully too, realizing that, no, you weren’t fully swaddled in your comforter, you were laying in a bed with other people.

Opening your eyes you blinked away sleep, looking down, confused to see Alex asleep with his head on your chest.

Turning your head you saw that it was Nick on your other side an arm wrapped around you both.

Karl was half sprawled across all of you, similarly to the airport, as if he could hold all of you at once. You sat in shock for several moments before realizing you were in fact, trapped in bed.

Alex’s fingers were tangled with yours, Nicks nose was pressed into your neck, and you could have sworn Karl shifted in his sleep, as if to get closer to you.

‘Well,’ you thought, ‘might as well make the most of it.’ As settled back down to fall back asleep.

Once you had all woke again, no one spoke as they headed back to there own rooms, and your crossed back through the bathroom form Nicks.

The rest of the day past, still no one speaking about it, and that night you found yourself laying in your own bed, wondering why it felt so wrong.

There was muffled whispers from Nicks room, and you quietly got up, moving into the bathroom to hear better.

Unfortunately for you Nicks door to the bathroom was still open, so you couldn’t eavesdrop as planned.

Karl and Alex were both sat on the bed next to each other as Nick paced. “What’s going on?” You asked quietly

“Would- would it be weird if we cuddled again?” Alex asked hesitantly.

“We were debating asking you.” Karl admitted.

Nick nodded, “You don’t have to, it’s just- we-“

Quietly you crossed the room, climbing into the bed instead of answering the question outright.

“Is- I- am I stupid, or is this something?” Alex whispered.

Vidcon had ended and even with the long weekend everyone was staying in California the time had gone all to fast.

You, Alex, Karl and Nick had continued to cuddle every night, still not talking about it during the day.

“Do you think it could be?” Was your only response, continuing to card your fingers through Karl’s hair.

“It seems like it already is.” Nick said.

Karl yawned, “I think I’d like it to be.You nodded,

“me too.”

“Me too.” Nick agreed.

Alex smiled, “I guess it’s decided then.”

The dark room was quiet another moment before you snickered, “It’s cannon irl now guys. What will the fans think?”

#mcyt x reader #karl jacobs x reader #mcyt imagines #karl jacobs imagines #sapnap x reader #teddy06 writes #quackity x reader #Quackity imagines #karlnapity #karlnapity x reader #sapnap x quackity x karl x reader #poly

3K notes · View notes

shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

harmless (vii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, existential crisis, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, lil bit of angst, clint barton being a lil shit

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: hey shoutout to @ugherik for suggesting a spin on the “A PLATYPUS!??!“ [perry puts his hat on] “PERRY THE PLATYPUS!???” thing. i used it in here, it’s a really small part and probably missable but i tried!! also i like the next chapter better than this one, i just wanted to put this here so it doesn’t seem abrupt <3333

here’s

my ko-fi

if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Bucky can’t stop staring at the mirror.

He wishes it was for narcissistic purposes. He had enough reason for it to be. His age may be a hundred but he had the youthful exuberance of a very drained sixty year old.

But no, it wasn’t because of the steel cut jawline or thousand gigawatt smile.

After last week’s mini-spiral, he does what almost half the videos on TikTok warn him not to do.

He got a haircut.

Everyone’s reaction stopped him from following it up with an ear piercing, but he can’t confidently say he didn’t at least consider it once. Maybe a neck tattoo.

He pulls at a lock of hair. It’s not even longer than his finger.

What did he do-

“It’s just a haircut, man,” he says to no one in particular, almost like he’s trying to reassure himself.

He runs his hands through his hair. It takes lesser time than he was used to.

Steve had told him he looked good. But then again, Steve wore a fugly costume 90% of the time, what did he know?

Clint acknowledged it and didn’t outright call him ugly, which he supposed was a compliment. Wanda simply smiled at him.

“FRIDAY?” he reaches out.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” comes the automated reply.

“How are you?” It took him some getting used to her, given that she was constantly listening to everything, and in general seemed to go against the universal idea of privacy.

But his therapist told him he needed to form friendships.

She didn’t mention it had to be human ones.

“As good as ever. Is there anything I can help you with?”

He wants to ask her what she thinks of his hair until he realises fashion advice from a faceless AI is a new low for him. Maybe ‘Do you think I should crawl into a pit and die?’ would be more appropriate.

“Never mind,” he dismisses instead. “Any messages for today?”

“A reminder to buy a harder bed because you can’t keep sleeping on the floor.” Ah, that was on Sam’s recommendation three months ago, but he wasn’t going to stop any time soon. “And a text from a contact named Nuisance saying to meet them at the attached location in thirty minutes.”

“Where is the location?”

“The local sports centre.”

“Isn’t that closed today?”

If he had to go out in public looking like this, maybe he could wear a cap and sunglasses and no one would recognise him. Unfortunately, as he was reminded several times before by anyone with an iota of common sense, it was a stupid disguise.

Beanie it was, then. Bare minimum.

“It is, yes.” Fewer citizens to worry about.

“Okay.” He hesitates in front of the mirror again, adjusting the hat on his head. “Thank you, FRIDAY.”

“You’re welcome, Sergeant.”

He stares at the little tuft of hair at the front that refused to stay down no matter how much he shoved it back.

“Come on, man,” he exhales in slight despair. “Whatever.”

____

The lock of the door leading to the pool is easy enough to pick. He can see how you got in without a hitch even though it was closed.

The deck around the pool was absolutely drenched in water. No one was using it, there was no reason for water to splash out unless it was deliberately kept like this.

He catches sight of you easily, being that you’re the only two people there. You were standing at the end of the hall, head ducked as you scrolled through your phone.

The door closes behind him with a soft thud.

You don’t look up from your mobile when you start talking, “What do you think 6 year olds like?”

Because James Barnes, carbon dated to 1917 and therefore certified young person, would definitely know the answer to this question.

“I don’t know. Lego?”

“Just how much money do you think a teacher makes-”

You stopped mid-sentence, finally lifting your head to catch his eye. He stares back at you, steps faltering when you don’t move.

"Who are you?" you squinted.

What

"It's me," Bucky says, tugging off the dumb beanie and using it to gesture vaguely towards himself. Fuck, he shouldn’t have worn it, it was ridiculous anyway-

"You sound like him..." You narrow your eyes. “You don't look like him.”

Great

He rolls his eyes before putting on a mock scowl. Can't have Bucky Barnes without a sense of eternal disgruntlement.

"Oh hey, that is you." You grin. "You got a haircut."

“I did.” He suddenly feels the awkwardness increase. His fingers fidget with the beanie.

“Nice.” You nod in acknowledgement.

He wants to hit himself at the words that just spill out before he could think about it. “You hate it.”

“I never said that,” you snort. “And since when does my opinion matter?”

“It doesn’t.” But now he wants to know what you think since he didn’t trust anyone else to tell him honestly.

“Must cut down on time in the shower, huh?”

It did.

He shrugs. He shoves the beanie into his back pocket.

“Was it a crisis haircut?” How did you kno- “Are you going to get bangs next time?”

“Shut up,” he says lamely, a dull burn in his cheeks.

“I know a place where you can get hair dye for cheap. Not technically FDA approved, but I think purple streaks are a good place to start-”

“What are we doing here?” he interrupts, sighing.

“Skinny dipping. Take off your shirt, Barnes.”

“Funny,” he says dryly, eyeing your shoes when you straighten up.

Ice skates.

“Fine, pants then.” You don’t make any effort to move from your end so he does, walking closer to you.

“What are those for?” He doesn’t hide the annoyance from his voice when he points at your feet.

“Oh, these?” You look down at them. “Yeah, I’m going to freeze the pool.”

That seems... mild compared to the shit show you wanted to do last time.

“For?” He halts where he is.

“’M gonna take my friends ice skating.”

“Is that all?” He wants to make a comment about the fact that you have friends but bites it back.

“Today is just a trial run. Tomorrow I’m gonna go freeze the East River.” There it is.

“The East River is not your personal ice skating rink.”

“Not yet it isn’t.” You lift up a middle finger.

It was too early for you to flip him off, even by your standards.

He raises an eyebrow.

Your face scrunches in confusion. You follow his gaze to your finger. “Oh yeah, no, that’s a freeze ring.”

Only then he notices a ring around the finger. From where he was standing he could make out the blue stone that adorned it.

“Joy.” He rolls up the sleeves of his black bomber jacket. “Let’s get this done with, then.”

“No no, wait.” You hold up your hand and he complies, having nothing to lose anyway. You pull out your phone and press a few buttons before shoving it back into your bag and tossing it aside.

The soft sounds of a piano start playing from a boombox near the corner of the room. A child starts singing following a series of knocks.

His eyebrows furrow. “What the fuck is this?”

“The Frozen soundtrack.” You beam at him. “I thought it was fitting.”

He doesn’t know what that is and at this point, he’s too afraid to ask. He can vaguely make out the lyrics being about a snowman but he isn’t too concerned.

He takes one step forward. You immediately point your fist at the ground in front of him, forcing him to jump back when a blast hits right in front of his shoes. Suddenly he gets why the floor is covered in water.

It sounds like a series of cracks as the water starts freezing over, a layer of ice now separating him and you.

"You ready?” The mischief was woven in your voice as the blasts continued throughout the deck, effectively turning the entire floor into ice.

Bucky takes a step tentatively forward. Not bad. He takes another. Okay.

The third one is when shit starts to hit the fan. His hands shoot out to hold onto his balance when his footing slips from beneath him.

His Nike sneakers aren’t used to snow. They’re used to well manicured lawns and pavement trips to Starbucks and marble floors of the compound. Not swimming pool decks covered in ice.

He can hear you singing in the distance and every time he looks up you’re a little further away, making sure every inch of space is frozen.

It takes him a while to get over the initial fear of breaking his skull and just move forward swiftly with short steps. A goddamn penguin is what he looked like.

“There you go, you’re getting it,” you chirp as you whiz past him. He reaches out to grab at you, only to miss by an inch. He staggers, arms flapping wildly to regain his stability.

He hears crackling beside him. He gets a second or two to watch ice crystals spread through the water before turning it completely solid. You step onto the now frozen pool, testing your weight with one leg before cautiously getting on.

A triumphant smile emerges on your face. “Awesome.”

He manages to press himself against the wall as a form of support.

There is no point to this whole thing. He knows this. It’s been well over 6 weeks and there is genuinely no point to this.

He realises it again when he moves from side to side, body erupting into a waddle.

Why is he doing this. He doesn’t get paid extra. He doesn’t get any kind of compensation. All he gets is more wisecracking geniuses, embarrassment and the mortifying ordeal of getting caught imitating a penguin.

The song changes to a woman singing about doing something for the first time, forcing him to pay attention to it. He hears something about ball room and balls and tunes right back out.

Bucky manages to find his way to the actual pool since that’s where you’re twirling around, opting to land on his mental arm in case things go wrong. He takes a sliding step forward, followed by another. Maybe he can do this.

“If a 200 pound super soldier can stand on this, I suppose it’s strong enough,” you muse, watching him slip and slide as he tries to invent makeshift ice skating.

Unfortunately, his method doesn’t have any brakes, so while he’s too busy trying to move forward, there’s no way to actually stop. He finds this out very soon when he almost launches himself off the edge of the pool.

Something yanks him backwards and back onto the ice.

“Honestly, this is utterly useless since you can’t really do anything but it’s the most fun I’ve had all week,” you admit when he goes sliding towards the middle, arms flailing.

“You had to pick fuckin’ ice of all things.” He thinks that maybe he’s getting a hang of this. He can definitely move faster than what he was doing like, 10 minutes ago. It’s not like you were going anywhere, anyway.

“I like to keep things spicy.”

He stays where he is to glare at you. You mouth the words to the song, watching his every move whenever it interested you.

Okay, change of plan; a temporary distraction till he figures out how to actually get the ring from you. He settles on skating towards the edge of the rink slowly, taking a step off, slipping almost immediately when his foot comes in contact with the deck.

“Where are you going?” you yell over the music initially but immediately break into song when it ends in a crescendo.

He takes a knee, lifting his metal arm up before driving it into the ground. It shatters magnificently, leaving small shards of ice at his disposal.

He picks up one of them, waiting for you to complete your dumb twirl. He takes aim, and-

“Ouch, what the fuck?” You stop your off key singing to rub your shoulder where the ice hit you.

He wordlessly picks up another piece to throw at you, hitting you squarely in the leg.

“Stop that!”

He may not be able to move as fast but he can definitely throw.

“Give me the ring,” he commands, stretching his arm behind his back before releasing another piece to hit your forearm.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” There’s nowhere you can skate to avoid his stupidly good marksmanship.

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” He shrugs, breaking another patch of ice to replenish his ammo. “Hand over the ring.”

“Over my dead body,” you shriek when a particularly big piece lands next to your feet. You knew he missed that shot on purpose.

“I feel like I’m finally acting my age,” he says casually, finding your darting about in order to avoid him more fun than he initially thought. “Can’t throw pebbles at meddling kids so this is the next best option. Thanks.”

“If you acted your age you’d be in a casket, Barnes,” you hissed, finding that skating in zig zags helped your cause, but not by much. “I’d be- you bitch- I’d be more than happy to help you get there.”

You raise your arm, ready to send another blast to freeze the water that was starting to melt around him, hopefully, keep him where he was if it froze around him.

He flinches. You notice immediately, hand dropping slightly when you realise what it looked like.

“I’m not gonna freeze you,” you say, softer than you intended. From what you knew, he had enough and more experience with that and you weren’t going to contribute to it.

He swallows thickly, giving himself a little shake of his head as if to jolt him out of his train of thought.

Another piece of ice hits you in the leg. You let out a string of curses at him.

“The more ice you make, the more I have to throw at you, Y/N.” He waits for you to regain your balance when you nearly take a stumble.

“Shut up, you’re so immature.”

“Remind me whose plan this was again?” No point waiting for you to regain your balance when you fall over only a few seconds later.

He gathers a few shards in his beanie, tucking it into his belt like a little makeshift rucksack just in case before venturing out on the main rink again.

It’s more difficult for you to stand without railings to guide you, giving him enough and more time to make his way towards you, staggering and skidding.

Both of you looked ridiculous.

“Stay away, fiend.”

“Ring first.” He holds his hand out in front of you. He even considered pulling you up if you just made things easier.

Next thing he knows he’s on his ass on the ice beside you.

“I hate you,” he groans, watching as you inch away from him on your knees.

He doesn’t really have any other options so he shoves aside the humiliation and gets on his knees, using his arms to drag him along the ice.

“For the love of Christ, none of us are winning here. Just give me the ring.”

The bitch from the soundtrack sings about letting it go but he won’t.

“Never,” you shout, sliding away from him as fast as possible.

You make use of the fact that the top layer of ice is starting to melt, using the ring to freeze it again. His knees and fingers get stuck as the water freezes over but he has super strength. It barely takes him a second to free himself.

“Great,” he huffs, just settling down on the ice, ignoring the sting of cold that was spreading through his limbs. Running after you wasn’t going to work; he needed a way to get the ring.

“You won last time, I’m not letting you win again.”

“Are we seriously keeping score?” He watches as you scramble towards the edge.

“No one likes a loser, Bucky.” You use the pool stair railings to pull yourself up.

“Explain why you have friends then.” He can’t help himself this time.

“Hardy har har.” You roll your eyes.

He doesn’t make an effort to move. Instead, when you take a step back into the rink, he raises his arm and pummels it into the ice, just to annoy you.

The ground damn near shakes, pushing you dangerously towards losing your balance again.

“Are you crazy?” Your arm shoots out in front of you to keep you from falling headfirst.

“No.” He does it again. This time there’s a crack in the ice. “I’m just very tired.”

“If the ice breaks we’re both gonna be underwater, you moron!”

“Fine by me.” He shrugs. “Freeze it again. I’ll just find different ways to ruin it for you.”

You glare at him. He raises his arm above his head again.

“Fine! Fine, stop.” You eye him as he lowers his arm.

He reaches for his stash of ice pieces from earlier, throwing one at your shoulder again.

“Boy, I swear if you don’t stop doing that-” you duck when another one comes at you. You had no idea he could be this annoying.

It suddenly hits him, like a lightbulb going off in his brain. He wipes his hands off on his jacket, getting on all fours before slowly managing to pick himself up again.

He looks at you, tilting his head slightly like he was studying you.

“What?” you ask suspiciously, eyeing as he starts inching closer towards you. “What are you thinking?”

It’s like watching a newborn deer stumble its way through the world, albeit more gracefully, until he starts picking up speed. The motherfucker was going to mow you down.

The skates are useful but not so much when an extremely determined bumbling oaf is barrelling towards you, his speed beginning to match yours even without equipment.

You don’t know why you’re running, you don’t know why he’s chasing after you but when you see the end of the pool you take a sharp left only to have him knock right into you, sending you both sprawling.

You land half on top of him, breaking your fall but it doesn’t stop the very loud groan that escapes your mouth. He’s already in the process of sitting up straight, giving you less time to analyse what just happened.

“What the fuck was that for?” you speak through gritted teeth. “Fuckin’ acting like the both of us have free healthcare.”

“You refused to give up.”

“So your plan was to tackle me like a quarterback?” You threw your hands up.

“One part of it.” He drags himself to the edge, away from you.

“There's more to your monkey brained plan?” He doesn’t look at you. The ice around the pool has more or less melted, letting him gain proper footing on the floor before he stands up.

“Oh, yeah.” He turns to you. “The other’s a trick I stole from Stark.”

Bucky holds up the ring. Your jaw slightly drops, eyes searching your finger for the now missing piece of tech.

“Suppose that’s two points for me?”

You’re impressed. You also want to stab him. So you do the next best thing.

“When I imagined you holding a ring in front of me, the circumstances were very different,” you comment.

“Bye, Y/N.” He spins on his heel, not even giving you a second’s worth of reaction. You found it amusing.

He heads towards the door, clothes all wet. He empties out melted ice water from his beanie before stuffing it into his pocket. Just when he’s about to leave, you remember something.

Do you mean it genuinely or just because it has an effect on him?

“Just for the record, Barnes, about your hair-” you call out, earning his attention from over his shoulder. “I think you look really good either way.”

The world may never know.

You swear you can see the corners of his lips quirk upwards before he turns around again.

He slips on a block of ice, cursing and clenching on to the door to keep him upright, quickly yanking it open and leaving before he has a chance to embarrass himself further.

Smooth.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

971 notes · View notes

warmau · 3 years

Text

summer is supposed to be a time of happiness, of adventure and goofing around under the constant sunlight

and so when you start summer, you are all smiles and big dreams! unfiltered energy to do whatever you want!

and whatever you want is definitely

NOT spending even a day (actually three) in the hospital after you end up falling off your bike and breaking your ankle like the absolute unlucky person that you are

"that is so gnarly dude, my condolences"

chenle mutters, skateboard under hand and shaking his head

jisung nods in agreement beside him - still wearing his helmet even after your nurse gives him a look about it

"hey, at least you're getting all this free candy?"

jaemin motions, picking up a 'get better soon' box filled with chocolates from your uncle

he pops one in his mouth and haechan swats his hand away before he can steal any more

mark sighs and gives you a sad smile, renjun puts the flowers they all bought together in a vase by your bed

it's all a little too much - and you tell them it's fine, it's just an ankle and you'll be out of here in no time

they all agree, except for jeno who is sitting at the foot of your bed with his volleyball uniform still on and his duffel bag between his legs on the floor

you keep throwing glances his way because you have never seen jeno so quiet in your life

mark - who is the brains of your friend group (oddly enough) - catches the looks of worry

so he does what any good friend would do, he tells all the remaining members he saw a machine with snacks out in the hall and they all excuse themselves with 'see you soon!'s' out of your hospital room

jeno doesn't move a muscle

"how was practice? jaemin looks happy so im guessing you guys are going to be in great shape when school starts again?"

there isn't any response and jeno is almost hidden with the way his head is hanging low and his hands are clasped on his knees

"jeno-"

"it's my fault you're in here."

you puff your cheeks and cross your legs

"oh please! it's my own fault! is that why you're acting all sad?"

he doesn't answer and the lack of communication is making you nervous more than it is making you angry

jeno and you are close, to the point of knowing each other's parents by their first names and who your first kisses were back in middle school

he has never been one to lack the words for a conversation - at least not with you

you wish you could scoot closer and pinch his cheek or poke his forehead

but your cast is restricting movement and these days touching jeno feels......different

"i should have stopped you before you went down that hill, i was there and i couldn't save you-"

"jeno, im not made of glass and plus im not even that hurt!"

he finally shifts so he can look at your leg, propped up on the pillow and covered in its cast that has been brightly decorated with signatures and doodles

the way his gaze travels up your hospital gown and to you, you know he isn't registering anything you're saying

you sit up a little and hide the wince behind another set of promises to jeno that you are ok and you don't need him to blame himself when he has so much more going on on his plate

"you and jaemin are going to graduate after the upcoming semester and that means it's your last year with the volleyball team. you should focus on practice and being the best you can be - when i can get myself up on those crutches ill come visit to see how you guys are doing!"

he seems to soften, the sharp angles of his face that have just gotten more handsome as he ages still somehow manage to look sweet and youthful

he picks his duffel bag up off the floor and leans toward you like he's going to push some hair from your face or kiss your forehead

he's done both before - but this is the first time the gesture has made the blood in your veins stop and something imaginary clog in the back of your throat

instead of doing either jeno seems to buffer as he hovers above you, reaching out to fluff the edge of your pillow

"ok, but also you have to be serious about your recovery."

he pulls back and the same concern as before washes over him, his vocal tone lowers

"don't go doing anything dangerous."

you point to your cast with a half-smile

"i don't think that's going to be possible."

you get discharged from the hospital the next day, not that it brightens your summer any further, you basically just end up trading the hospital bed for the four walls of your own room

the group chat explodes with more well wishes

but you change the subject, all the pity makes you cringe

'how was volleyball practice?'

several people start typing - except for jeno

jaemin's reply comes first, 'it was good!'

followed by jisung's, 'but.....jeno didn't show up...'

renjun adds 'he said he wasn't feeling well - don't worry!'

you furrow your eyebrows

'has anyone visited him? does he need medicine?'

haechan texts something before anyone can really stop him, 'im pretty sure he's just being sad - if he had the stomach flu we all be sick. we eat together everyday.'

'haechan!' mark replies as jaemin sends a shaking his head emoji

'wait. jeno is sad?'

it goes silent and then suddenly jeno is typing

'im not sad, im fine. ill be at practice tomorrow.'

you let out a sigh you didn't know you were holding in

it's only natural that you, as jeno's friend, would be worried about him. at least, that's what you tell yourself.

to be honest - now that you're not out enjoying summer - you're more than ever stuck with your own thoughts and the most recent string of them is: what changed between you and jeno?

for years it had been easy going fun, the simple enjoyment of each others company

but ever since it started getting warm enough for t-shirts - there has been a shift in the central point of you and jeno's friendship

you are suddenly hyper-aware of how strong the outline of his arms looks.

you notice when he wears different cologne.

you see the way other people turn their heads to look at him when he walks by, the way they pick up on the handsome features that make up your best friend

and you can't help but feel something cruel and cold fester in the pit of your stomach when you think jeno might one day look back at that stranger ..... and notice their features too

you sit up, which is a mistake because you shift your foot and it makes you yelp, but you look at your phone again

the gc has moved onto topics of video games so you message jeno outside of it

'hey, if something is wrong you can tell me'

he reads the message and doesn't reply. you tell yourself that's totally fine.

a couple of weeks pass before anyone lets you limp out of the house by yourself

you've mastered crutches and when you really need something, one of your friends delivers it

although recently, it seems to be everyone but jeno

everything otherwise seems normal

no one really talks about volleyball - which is fine, you just assume they're busy practicing

and so you hobble down to the school gym that's still open for the student-athletes during the break and are secretly happy to bump into mark who helps you with the stairs

"by the way, don't be upset with him ok."

mark says before you enter the gym - you look at him with a raised eyebrow

"upset with who?"

mark swallows - just tilts his head and when you go inside you look everywhere, you see everyone, but you don't see jeno

"im guessing he isn't in the locker rooms?"

you ask mark with a deflated tone of voice, mark shakes his head

"he hasn't been to practice at all."

you can understand why no one had told you.

like mark said, they knew you'd get on his case about it - which is what you plan on doing when you end up on his front porch

jeno comes down with messy hair and basketball shorts on. he's not wearing a shirt and immediately you think you lose the ability to speak

"you shouldn't be walking around just yet."

he says and you frown

"it's been a while now, plus im not here about me. im here to ask what you think you're doing."

jeno crosses his arms and you hate the involuntary flex of his muscles.

actually, you don't hate it, you hate that you stare when you don't mean to.

he ushers you into the backyard and motions for you to sit on one of the patio chairs

he's still being the same thoughtful guy you grew up with but you're beyond confused

"are you quitting volleyball - why aren't you going to practice?"

"im not quitting. i just don't feel like it - i don't feel like doing anything."

you reach out with one of your crutches to poke him, he makes a face

"im the one with a broken ankle - im the one who gets to be depressed. c'mon, tell me what's really wrong."

jeno falls silent, you notice that he hasn't completely shaved and there's a bit of a shadow on his jawline

you swallow the sudden dryness in your throat

this is your best friend since you were kids. you are literally not going to think anything but pure thoughts from now on. ok. stop. don't you dare.

"that's the thing. you have a broken ankle, you can't even go to the beach and im supposed to do what - enjoy the summer without my best friend?"

he throws his hands up and you see an expression you barely ever get from jeno form on his face

"i could have stopped you from being reckless, i could have made sure you weren't in that stupid cast and that you could-"

"jeno!"

you cut him off and he looks at you, the momentary distraction of your newfound attraction to him dissipates as you grind your teeth

"i told you that it's no way your fault i got hurt - plus it's not like you personally broke my ankle and im not suffering torturous pain. things happen like this in life - don't beat yourself up about it!"

you wish you could get up to make your point, but the best you manage is a shaky lift grabbing onto your chair

jeno gets up to help you but you shoo him away

"it hurts me more to see you moping around on my behalf! did you think about that, how it would make me feel to hear that my injury is making you slack on the things you like?!"

he blinks and you suddenly feel a rush of different things

one is that you hate how he seems to be so full of pity for you, another is that you hate how he's kind of right about this summer being pointless now that you can barely move, but the last is that because of all these things happening you can't even properly wrap your head around the fact that you think you like him

and not in the platonic way you'd been beating on liking him your whole life

so to add this to the pile - you take your crutches and give him a stern look

"just start going to practice. i told you when i was in the hospital, i'll always come to cheer you on when i can. that doesn't change for me, broken ankle or not because you're my best friend and i want to see you succeed."

and i love you

you don't say the last part, you bite your lip back and although you can't storm off in your usual fiery passion, you make it out of his backyard and let a heaviness fall off your chest as you somehow manage to get back home

the sound of messages incoming on your phone are drowned away by your tiredness

i just want to be a source of happiness for you, i never wanted to be your burden jeno.

the next day there's a knock on your bedroom door - you tell them to come in and go wide-eyed when you see jeno there

he's in his volleyball uniform and he's holding something in his hands

"jen-"

"im sorry. you were right, i can't use you as an excuse to be lazy anymore. i brought these."

he hands you the tupperware of cookies and you are about to ask him if he made these when jeno's familiar, warm laughter fills your room

"i didn't make them, they're chipsahoy but i thought the gesture could count."

you look down at them - he's so silly.

you look back up at jeno's smile - i really love him.

"good. now go have fun at practice, ill visit you guys later in the week."

he comes closer to you and suddenly the air in the room stills, he leans over and you think you can feel the temperature of your skin rise to an unsafe level when he hooks his pinkie with yours

"promise?"

you nod and he disappears with a wave. you sit in your bed and hold the cookies.

maybe breaking my ankle and not spending every minute around him might actually have been a good thing.

as you promised, you show up to practice at the end of the week.

jeno is there and he lights up when he sees you, helps you with your crutches and everyone gathers around to tell you how thankful they are that you went and got jeno to comeback

jisung randomly sputters a, "the only person who can control him is you. it's like he's your boyfriend."

mark catches the look on your face before jeno does and flicks jisung on the head, "what do you know about dating - c'mon lets go get water for everyone."

the comment swims around your head for the entire time you're there - and you don't know it, but it swims around jeno's as well

when practice is over, jaemin offers to drive everyone home - no one agrees because they're probably terrified of his driving

and jeno says he'll be the one to walk you home

it's nothing unusual, you've been with jeno throughout your whole childhood, but there seems to be a weird pause among your group when he announces it

when you and him set off toward your house, mark does something weird - he winks at you and you take a second before

oh - he knows i like jeno doesn't he?

you can only go at the of the equivalent of snail's pace, and jeno matches it without complaint

you don't say anything and it makes it that much harder to distract the chanting about how good he looks and how you can't believe you're that person who fell in love with their best friend and how this summer is so confusing its almost vomit-inducing and-

"hey, would it be weird if i liked you?"

it feels like the earth itself has been dropped from the shoulders of atlas, you think suddenly all the gravity has gone and disappeared

you stop and look at jeno who sets his bag down on the asphalt

the boy you met when you were young is suddenly not a boy anymore, his shadow is tall and mature against the setting summer sun

"liked me?"

he scratches the back of his neck and then nods

"i had said i can't use your injury as my excuse to be lazy. i actually wasn't being lazy, i was just going through a hard time because i thought i had hurt the person most important to me in the world."

your heart thumps against your chest so hard it kind of hurts

"me?"

"yeah, and i realized your friend can be the most important person in the world - but i think it's different the way i feel about now......i like you."

"i love you."

you blurt it out before you can even really stop yourself, jeno looks shocked for about a second before it breaks into a big smile on his face

the one you haven't seen in what seems like forever, the one that feels genuine and right

"oh cool, i actually love you too - i just didn't know if i should say it-"

"can you come over here and kiss me, these crutches are kind of making it hard for me."

no one is surprised when you and jeno announce in the gc that you're going on your first date

mark tries to act it, but literally everyone is like finally - you do ask mark if he knew all along about how you felt and he goes i knew how you felt and how jeno felt. you two are open books.

the date isn't as thrilling as you both might have wanted, the broken ankle is still kind of getting in the way, so jeno takes you out to the lake and does all the rowing himself

you offer, since it's your hands, but he insists he can do it himself and he does. seriously, he's way stronger than you remember him being a year ago.

you guys eat on the grass when you get back and he effortlessly picks you back up onto your feet, you swoon everytime but try not to show it

and when jeno drops you off - he kisses you again, and this time he doesn't have to have you tell him to - he picks the perfect moment

being his best friend and dating him doesn't change too much, it's just you're now holding hands everytime you hangout and you're kissing in the back of jaemin's car much to his disappointment and well

it's just made everything easier - you're not wrapped in your head about what's different, because nothing is, you just are honest with how you both feel

jeno and jaemin even get visited by scouts for volleyball and when jeno tells you about it you try to jump up to hug him and he's like bABE CAST but too late you're like OW and he's like oh god oh god let me hold you

you're like jeno let's learn to bake cookies for real so we don't have to buy chipsahoy to give each other and he's down for it but then you both almost set the kitchen on fire and call renjun like ten times to ask about the recipe and basically you are both banned from baking again

your cast gets filled in with hearts from jeno...you let him lay his head on you when he's playing games on his phone and you're like watching him play and when you get bored you're like let's kiss instead

jeno leaves all his hoodies 'accidentally' over at your house because he knows you like wearing them but won't admit it outloud

the summer continues on until suddenly it's colder outside and the reality of school coming back dawns on everyone

and also, you get the date for when your cast will be removed

jeno asks if you're going to keep it once it gets cracked - you say you might, you woulnd't want to lose all those cute hearts he scribbled on them and he just smiles and kisses your forehead

"i'd scribble all the hearts everywhere for you."

"that's cute, we should save that for when we get married."

and you do save it for then - years later when you're showing jeno the design on your invitations

beside both your names is a cluster of different hearts, all doodled by jeno himself

"how'd you get these?"

"kept a part of my broken cast."

he stares at you with wide eyes

"im joking, i got them off a napkin you doodled on when we were at dinner."

jeno pokes his tongue out at you and you giggle as he wraps his arms around your waist as to not let you get away

the softness of your love and silliness of your friendship is still there

it'll always be there - through all the broken ankles, casts, and doodled hearts to come.

#weeeeeee now i only have two neos left #nct dream au #jeno au #nct dream scenarios #jeno scenarios #nct dream imagines #jeno imagines #lee jeno #nct dream #sfw #nostalgia au #nct dream x reader #jeno x reader

350 notes · View notes

delimeful · 3 years

Text

you cant go back (2)

warnings: fear, miscommunication, guilt, mentions of theoretical gore/injury, dehumanization, referring to a person as 'it', general angst

For the fourth day in a row, Lady Macbeth had spurned him.

Roman frowned, pulling the strap of his messenger bag over his head and tossing it over the back of a kitchen chair.

Lady was old, smug, and occasionally very cranky, but she wasn’t deaf like Ophelia-- she always came prancing over once she heard his keys rattling in the lock, delighted at the opportunity to smear cat hair all over his pants and get her claws stuck in his shoelaces.

Yet here he stood, catless.

For the past few days, too, she hadn’t been in the house at all when he got home. He’d been downright worried that first day, uneasy until she strolled back in at dusk.

They had an expansive backyard that their younger cats took delight in frolicking in, but their second-oldest cat was a rare visitor to the outdoors. Lady was first and foremost a homebody, and she preferred a warm body to sit on. Their squishy heat-generating human bodies were the only reason she hadn’t assassinated them all in their sleep by now, according to--

Roman cut the thought off sharply, feeling familiar grief pit up in his throat. He shook his head, the motion harsh enough to make his neck twinge. There was no time for standing about and pondering! He had a cat to locate!

A determined jut to his chin, he grabbed what supplies he would need for this perilous journey-- cat treats, a catnip toy, even a tempting cardboard box-- and strode confidently out the backdoor.

For the next half-hour, he wandered around the acres of their property, greeting each of the goats and chickens by name as he checked all the most common cat hidey-holes.

He’d almost given up by the time he stumbled across the old barn, pant legs covered in burrs and the beginnings of a sunburn across the back of his neck. Whatever delightful cat secrets Lady was so busy with, surely he could discover them when it wasn’t the middle of summer.

Just before he could turn around, though, he noticed that one of the doors was just slightly ajar.

Roman felt his brow gradually scrunch up the longer he stared at it. It had been locked up after the last of the old supplies had been moved from it, hadn’t it? The last big storm had proved it wasn’t weather-worthy, his dad had plans to take it apart for timber, ones that had seemingly been forgotten after… afterwards.

Petty inconveniences of getting there forgotten, Roman crept closer on light feet, grip tight on the catnip mouse in his hand. The wind died down at an eerily perfect moment, and he strained to hear beyond those old wooden walls.

Not everything is a grand conspiracy, a voice in his head reminded him, sounding suspiciously similar to Specs, it could simply be someone without housing that took the opportunity for shelter provided by the abandoned barn.

Roman sidled halfway through the ajar door, and froze at the sight of an upright humanoid figure only a few meters away. Something about it wasn't right, instantly putting him on edge. He kept staring, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

(“I’m telling you, these lights were strange even by my standards! Almost… alien.” An unsettling grin that was a beat late.)

The figure’s head was dropped forward, but he could tell even from this distance that it wasn’t human, with shiny purple-grey segmented skin and legs with knees facing the wrong way. It had spiky shoulder joints, but its arms seemed to be tucked behind it.

(Roman had shoved him off the couch, sour about being taken in by one of his tales, and he hadn’t brought it up again.)

Most alarming of all, there were four long, spindly limbs stretched out into the air behind it, seemingly spawning from its back. The legs were spider-like in nature, but shiny instead of hairy, and each one ended in a sharp point. As he watched, he could see the limbs shifting slowly, pairs of them lifting and falling in odd synchrony with the creature’s slow breathing.

(Roman had been freaked out, and his brother had dropped the subject. He should’ve asked, he should have known something was wrong--)

“Miaow.” A plaintive voice called, nearly startling Roman out of his skin.

He tore his gaze away from the (alien) mystery intruder, and felt his jaw drop as he took in Lady Macbeth’s current position. Loafing on the feet of an insidious intruder?!

For shame, he mouthed silently at her.

Lady blinked slowly and continued to purr, unbothered by his accusatory stare. One of those spider limbs shifted again, making Roman swallow nervously. He really didn’t want to see what sort of automatic reaction an extraterrestrial’s stabby-arms would have to finding a cat in its space.

He waved the catnip mouse enticingly. Lady gave him the bland look of a cat who had preferred those expensive feather toys for as long as he had known her. Roman resisted the urge to facepalm.

The insanely dangerous method it was, then.

Putting all his sneaking skills to use, he sidled further into the barn, dropping into a crouch and beginning to creep across the dirt floor as slowly as possible. Each step was carefully placed, almost entirely silent, and whenever those freaky appendages twitched, he froze in place for a full thirty seconds.

The alien’s head remained lax (asleep?) as he drew closer, but Lady refused to entertain his desperate motions for her to leave her ill-chosen bed. At this rate, he’d have to pick her up off of it, and hope that she didn’t complain too much on the way out.

He shifted his weight forwards, and suddenly all four of the arms were still, almost taut in the air. Only a couple feet away, the alien’s head bobbed slightly. His time was up.

Clenching his teeth, Roman made a gamble.

He tossed the little mouse toy directly at the space above the alien’s head and dove for Lady.

There was a whistle, like a whip or an arrow sliding through the air, and Roman made the mistake of glancing up as soon as he had his hands securely around Lady’s body.

All four of the spider limbs had jabbed into the same point, skewering the toy from several different angles. The alien was certainly awake now, and it had four times as many eyes as any one person could reasonably need. Between one heartbeat and the next, those huge dark irises went from staring at the poor mutilated toy to staring at Roman.

Terror shot through him and he gave up on subtlety, throwing himself back as hard as he could and hoping that he made it out of range.

He landed on his back with a whomp that knocked the wind out of him, and flinched as that terrifying whistling sound split the air again, ending in a muted thump. He was so wired with adrenaline that he couldn’t tell if he’d been hit or not. Locked in his arms, Lady writhed and complained loudly.

“Not going anywhere,” Roman wheezed, “you little fiend, con-- consorting with the enemy.”

There were several more whistle-thumps, which was either very good or very bad for him. He rolled to his side, pushing himself up on an elbow and taking stock of himself, braced for the worst.

The alien was still standing there against the central support beam of the barn. Half a foot from Roman’s leg, it's very sharp extra arms had left holes pierced in the hard-packed dirt of the barn’s floor.

“But no holes in me,” Roman cheered weakly, and then shifted Lady to the crook of one arm and flipped the alien off. “Nice try, Space Invader.”

The alien made a deep clicking rumble, but stopped trying to impale him. Instead, it moved to hold all those limbs high up in the air menacingly, ready to stab down at any point. The remains of the toy mouse sat near its feet, cotton innards spilling everywhere like a grim warning.

Roman got to his own feet, wincing at the feeling of Lady’s claws poking into his ribs as she attempted to kick her way to freedom. He took a moment to stare once he was back upright.

The alien’s skin plates had gone completely pitch-black, only the slightest hints of purple between the plates to prove that there’d ever been any color to it at all. Roman was abruptly glad that he hadn’t encountered it in the dark of night.

Its eyes were just as dark, with only the slightest difference in shades of black to indicate the difference between iris and sclera. Despite his artistic eye for color differences, even Roman couldn’t tell where its pupils were. If it even had pupils.

It also was still stuck in one place, despite its legs seeming totally operational. Roman slowly shuffled to the side of it, making sure to keep a few good steps clear of stabbing range, and found that it did in fact have normal arms and hands.

Well. Mostly normal. There were five fingers, but they were all way too long and ended in thick, claw-like points. He thought they also maybe had one or two too many joints.

More to the point, the alien couldn’t do anything with these arms because they were bound together at the wrists and tied tightly to the central support beam of the barn. It was stuck there, and going by the aggressive rumbling it was doing, it knew it.

Roman pulled out his phone and managed to take a shaky video of the alien, circling around it to both get a better angle and prompt it to threateningly twitch those back limbs some more. He knew his sci fi tropes, including the one where the alien mysteriously disappears the moment the plucky protagonist tries to tell anyone about the danger. He wasn’t going to be called crazy again.

Once he was content with the amount of evidence he had, he made the trek back to the house at a near-sprint, the cat in his arms protesting all the way. He burst through the back door, letting the screen fall shut behind him, and finally allowed Lady to walk on the power of her own four paws. She beelined for the screen door, stood up on her hind legs, and rattled it expectantly.

“Absolutely not,” Roman told her firmly, nudging her away. “I don’t know what it is with you and courting death via Xenomorph, but you are henceforth banned from the outdoors.”

If angry little kitty looks could kill, Roman would be as dead as King Duncan.

Shaking his head, he went over to the ancient landline phone in their kitchen, lifted the phone from its cradle, and paused.

Who was he going to call?

He’d had some half-conceived notion of calling his parents, or that infuriating police officer, or even just 911. What would he even say? ‘Hello operator, my emergency is that I have an alien in my barn, I promise this isn’t a prank’? Even the dial tone wouldn’t believe that.

And what if they did get someone out here to verify that there was a real alien? There was little doubt in his mind that law enforcement and then the government would quickly step in, whisking the evil version of E.T. away into some distant Area 51 lab. Roman would never see it-- or get any answers from it-- ever again.

He hung the phone up with a solid click, and turned to face the kitchen.

If he was going to interrogate a hostile alien, he needed to arm himself.

---

Shockingly, when he returned to the barn, the alien was still there.

He had crept up quietly again, hoping to catch it unawares, but this time it had been staring unerringly at him from the moment he peeked through the door, those smaller, rounder eyes wide open under its main ones.

He pushed the door open further with a dramatic flourish, pretending like he hadn’t been sneaking at all.

“Alien scourge,” Roman greeted, wincing at the crack in his voice. He cleared his throat, ignoring the way the alien’s dark gaze sent chills down his spine. “I don’t know how you ended up here, but I do know that you’re going to give me the information that I need.”

He pointed the end of his weapon of choice for emphasis, and the alien recoiled with a hiss, quickly jabbing out at it with those back arms.

Just as he’d hoped, however, putting vegetable oil on the already-slick plastic handle of the kitchen broom had made it basically impossible for those single-pronged limbs to stab or grab it. He grinned triumphantly, poking the alien with the end of it. The playing field had officially been evened.

“Now, unless you want me to introduce you to the Earth concept of piñatas, you better tell me what you’re here for.”

The alien was entirely silent, watching him with those shiny, pitch-black eyes. Behind it, its spider arms were vibrating with tension, probably in preparation to stab out the moment he slipped up.

“I’m serious,” Roman warned, poking it a little harder and getting exactly nothing for his efforts, not even a glare. “I know what I saw that night, and there’s no way it’s a coincidence that now you’re here. It was an abduction."

He paused for effect, and the alien let out a series of clicks and low, warped sounds that sounded like meaningless nonsense.

"I don't speak alien." Roman frowned. "Tell me what happened. Why were you-- or, your-- your brethren or your shipmates or whatever, why were they taking people? Where did they take them?”

The alien made what sounded like the same exact series of noises. Roman groaned in frustration.

“In-- In English! You understand what I’m saying, don’t you? If aliens are real and have the technology to infiltrate Earth without being detected, they have to have some way of communicating! An insta-translator or telepathy or math nonsense or something!” He threw his arms out in frustration, making the alien twitch.

He paced back and forth for a moment, before coming to a stop in front of the alien again and leveling it with an accusatory stare. “You’re faking it. I don’t believe that you can’t understand me.”

The alien just kept staring at him, flat plates where its mouth should have been, not a single expression visible on its face. It was about as convinced by Roman’s argument as everyone else in his life, which was to say, not at all. He felt a surge of white-hot anger, and levered the broom at its neck threateningly.

“Tell me, right now!” he demanded, stinging tears building up at the corner of his eyes. “Tell me where my brother is!”

He shoved the broom further forwards, and the alien snapped its limbs forwards and knocked it away, startling him into stumbling back. It hissed at him again, stabbing at the ground like a warning. He scowled, swiping at his face with a sleeve, and swung the broom handle at it sharply.

The swing went wide, more than a foot from touching any of it, but the alien showed the closest thing to emotion he’d seen so far, half of its eyes flinching closed in anticipation. Roman felt a sickening twist in his gut, some odd mix of guilt, anger, and vindication, and he turned away sharply.

Not for the first time, he wished he’d been the one that had been taken.

Remus wouldn’t care if the stupid cops didn’t listen to him, if their parents didn’t believe him, if the whole town thought he was insane. He would know how to convince an alien to talk, would threaten to-- to crush its extra eyes or cut off limbs or do something Roman was too squeamish to even think up.

If it was Remus, it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t know what to do. He’d at least do something.

He wouldn’t be going through the motions of life like everything was the same.

Pretending had always been Roman’s specialty, after all.

Roman cast a furious glare over his shoulder at the alien, resentful that it was still staring at him even as he was in the middle of a breakdown, and tossed the broom into the corner.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said, swallowing back the thickness in his voice, “and every day after that until you tell me.”

Threat delivered, he stormed out of the barn and slammed the doors shut behind him.

#sanders sides #humans are space orcs #ts roman #ts virgil #space au #humans are deathworlders #ycgb #you cant go back #my writing #writing #sanders sides fic #alien virgil

294 notes · View notes

amymel86 · 3 years

Text

Bitches keep starting new Jonsa fics!

I’m bitches.

Shit. It happened again. Sansa really doesn’t need to be thinking about this on the day before her wedding but it happened AGAIN. The Red Keep Hotel’s 400 thread count, Braavosi cotton sheets are still balled up in her clenched fists. Sweat still dampens her brow.

A quick look over at the heavy blackout curtains shows no hint of daylight peeking from around the drapes. And stretching over to unplug her charging phone confirms that it is not yet dawn on this – her ‘Wedding Day Eve’ as Beth had coined it.

Should she make a call to her therapist once the world starts to wake up? She won’t go into great detail this time of course – but Sansa had thought that these dreams had stopped. It’s been ages since he’s featured in them and tonight-

Tonight...

Tonight he’d fucked her in her wedding dress.

Oh, Gods! How awful is that? Sansa is due to get married in under 48 hours and she’s dreaming of having sex with her groom’s brother?!

Deep breath.

Sansa closes her eyes.

In.

Out.

What was it that Brienne had suggested during their last session when she’d brought up the dreams?

“You may be manifesting these kinds of dreams because Jon is one of – if not the only – person that, outwardly, doesn’t show that he likes you. You’ve admitted yourself that you are a people-pleaser, Sansa, and I can imagine having someone in your life that you can’t seem to please would frustrate you very much.”

She was right, of course. It did frustrate her. Sansa was good at getting on with people – with everybody.

Except for Jon.

Even when they were younger, back in the north. That was before his dad had made contact with him – back when all he was was Miss Snow’s boy – the boy next door – the boy who was Robb’s best friend. He was always at their house but Sansa had little to no interest in him at the time and she was sure he had felt the same.

They were just too different.

The only time she really remembers having any kind of connection with him was when she’d hugged him for beating Joff’s ass when he’d hit her. But even that – she’s sure he’d only stepped in out of a sense of loyalty to Robb. The rest of the time he hardly acknowledged her beyond a bored looking grunt.

He’d gone away to college and Sansa had heard through Robb and Arya that he’d later dropped out, tried his luck down in King’s Landing at one of his father’s many, many investment businesses.

That hadn’t worked out either.

Sansa had just about forgotten all about Jon Snow – the boy next door – when, just three years ago, he’d contacted her via her old email of all things – couldn’t he have slid into her DMs on one of her socials like a normal person?

After short chats back and forth for a while – honestly, Sansa hadn’t been aware that Jon even knew how to hold a conversation until then - she’d found out that he had stayed down in King’s Landing and owned his own tattoo parlour now – a far cry from the respectable suit and tie gig that his father had envisioned for him.

He knew she was desperate to visit the capital and invited her to do just that.

That had been the first time she’d met his brother, her now fiancé, Aegon.

... and now she can’t seem to stop having sex dreams about a man who is decidedly not her husband-to-be. Honestly, he’s not even nice to her half the time and she doesn’t even know why – what has she ever done to him that was so bad? Aegon says Jon’s just too used to living and working in Fleabottom now – that the rough side of the city has rubbed off on him and caused him to forget his manners.

Sansa wonders if he ever had any in the first place?

Then she remembers how his lack of manners had made her react in one of those dreams and she can feel her whole body flush from her head to her toes.

“Mmm, fuck! You all wet for me, Princess?” Jon rumbles, his strong hands pinning her wrists back into the bed as he fills her. She whines before cutting off the noise with a bite to her lip. “Oh no, none of that,” he nips, teasing out her plump bottom lip with his own teeth, “I wanna hear aaall the noises Little Miss Perfect makes when she comes.”

Her heart is hammering in her chest as she stares up at him above her, a devious smirk on his face while he fucks her slow and measured.

“You’ve got a dirty mouth, Jon Snow,” she hisses.

His smile doesn’t falter, his hands tighten around her wrists above her head. “I think you like my dirty mouth.” His hips halt their torturously drawn-out movements and he stills, his cock completely buried inside her. He kisses Sansa with more force and desperation than she’s ever experienced, all while his body lay heavy and still above her. She squirms and whimpers – she wants more. Jon lets a self-satisfied chuckle escape their kiss.

“I hate you!” she pants when he finally releases her from his lips. His tattooed arms skim down her frame and then faster than is possible, he flips them so that she now straddles his hips. Sansa braces herself on his chest as he grins up at her.

“That’s right, baby,” he coos, voice rough, hands smoothing up and down her thighs, “show me how much you hate me, sweetheart.”

“Christ,” Sansa curses, falling back against the sheets at the memory. She stares up at the ceiling for two, maybe three seconds before rolling to her side. Huffing, Sansa shoves a pillow between her legs and prays for more sleep – preferably dreamless.

***

Fuck! Jon wants to throw something – his phone, a pillow – something. He can’t because Ygritte is asleep beside him, here in this swanky hotel bed in the middle of the night. But Jon can’t sleep. He doesn’t know why he can’t sleep – well, that’s a barefaced fucking lie but Jon refuses to look too closely at it because if he does, he’ll get mad all over again and even further from drifting off.

The night is dead still and heavy as he sits up, letting the fancy, soft sheets fall away from around his waist. Briefly, Jon considers waking Ygritte up and offering to go down on her – that always led to sex and if he got some, maybe he could sleep? Urgh – no. That was pretty fucking selfish. Plus, his girlfriend has been in a mood with him since she’s not keen on weddings, nor his family and Jon is kind of forcing her to go to this thing anyway.

There was no fucking way that he was gonna show up alone to watch his brother marry Little Miss Perfect. The only way he managed to sway her was by revealing that his father had already paid for their suite for three nights and that there would be a free bar at the wedding.

Sighing, Jon scrubs his hands down his face and reaches for his glasses. His phone tells him that it’s 2am.

The en suite bathroom light flickers on and the extractor fan kicks in instantly. Jon cuts the noise as fast as he can by flipping the exterior switch. Ygritte turns over in bed but doesn’t wake.

Closing the door with a soft click, Jon lets out a breath. The light overhead hums quietly and the reflection in the over-sink mirror is a sorry and accusing one. Bracing his weight on the porcelain sink, Jon glares at himself. His eyes catch on one of the first tattoos he’d ever gotten; a dragonfly in flight over his heart.

“Fucking hell, you’re pathetic,” he whispers to himself.

Maybe he just needs to jerk off and then he’ll be able to sleep?

Jon snorts snidely at himself. Yeah, ‘cause that’s not pathetic at all. Christ.

He almost walks out the bathroom but then stops, coming back to the basin and opening his phone. It’s not pathetic. He is a man – he has needs, dammit! As long as he’s just looking at generic porn and doesn’t open up that hidden file he has that contains images and videos from a certain person’s social media, then it’s fine – it’s all fine!

His traitorous thumb hovers over that file none-the-less.

Oh, so we’re just gonna jerk off to pictures of the bride on the day before her wedding, are we?

“I can’t handle this,” he grumbles - grinds the heels of his palms into his eyes until he sees sparkles.

Standing in the doorway, the light from the bathroom behind him floods in and lands upon one of the little amenity tables backed up against the adjacent wall. On top had been an expensive looking vase of fresh roses and a professional brochure listing all the important information about the hotel and their stay. It had boasted a long list of facilities – including a 24hr gym.

If Jon’s feeling too guilty to see to his frustrations one way – perhaps he should try another.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa fic #jonsa ff #modern au

112 notes · View notes

h2bakugou · 3 years

Note

Can I have bakugo x reader who acts a lot like kenma? You can do gendernetural!

Please hydrate!

a/n: of course!! i do be using the wiki to find out his personality cuz half the time i forget, i haven't seen haikyuu in a minute, i might rewatch the first two seasons-

summary: quiet, composed, analytical. the three words most students in your class use to describe you. despite your reserved nature and awkward aura, bakugou decides to approach you.

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff

word count: 2.5k

;cut for length;

»»————-　★　————-««

It’s a cool autumn day, the cool wind rustling the bright-colored leaves on the trees. With the air getting much colder, it was time to break out your winter costumes when it came to training.

You stood by yourself like usual, listening to instructions. Of course, the exercise today was grouping you in pairs. And despite being possible acquaintances with at least half of your peers, you didn’t really consider them friends.

It wasn’t because you hated them, you were reserved, quiet, and rarely showed any emotions, often having others perceive you as cold and hard to read.

“It’s just a simple team-building skills exercise. You’ll most likely have several occasions in the field where you’re working together with other heroes and agencies, especially on bigger cases. Your pairs have already been chosen for you so when your names are called find your partner.” Aizawa’s look hadn’t changed at all. In fact, you almost wondered if his outfit had changed during the summer or not.

But it seemed like what he wore during the hottest days of June or July was currently fitted on him now.

Name after name was called, slowly dwindling down the remaining students that could be paired.

“Kirishima, (Y/n).” It wasn’t that much of a surprise to you when you heard your name. Kirishima meandered over to you, shooting you a sharp-teethed smile before glancing back at Kaminari and Sero, who had been paired together.

“Bakugou, Todoroki.” That was a pair you certainly hadn’t expected. Watching as Bakugou’s eye seemed to twitch he teamed up with the half-and-half boy, not very thrilled to do this exercise with him.

The training was fairly simple, you were to rescue a training dummy from a random hazard under thirty minutes.

In your case, your dummy was trapped in a sinking car.

You hadn’t expected to get wet today, and even if your quirk allowed you some help under the water, it was still going to be cold. It didn’t help that Kirishima kept asking you questions.

You were thinking of a strategy as you rushed to the scene.

“I think the best plan is to try and get the car out of the water.”

No that is a stupid plan. You can’t lift the car, with water inside of it you’d just sink to the bottom.

You didn’t have a solid plan, but you could finish fairly early if you could break the window and retrieve the dummy.

Using this plan, you’d need Kirishima to harden and break the window.

After reviewing the area where the car had begun to sink, you could feel the cameras on you, your entire class observing you. It was uncomfortable, you frankly wished you’d been paired with someone like Mineta so your fight would hopefully be uninteresting to those who despised the purple-’haired’ boy.

“Harden and break the window when we get to the car. Trying to save the car is just going to slow us down.” You spoke plainly, kicking off your shoes as you stared at the strikingly blue water.

“Break the window, got it!” Kirishima was ready. Jumping into the cold water, you fought the urge to swim back out. Pushing on, you swam to the car, hoping you’d be able to hold your breath long enough to get the dummy out.

Kirishima swam beside you and quickly hardened part of his body, noticing how much harder it was to move underwater.

After a few attempts, the glass hadn’t budged. You needed air. Swimming back up, your heads popped up above the water.

“We need momentum.” Kirishima wasn’t getting anywhere.

“Use your feet on the window behind the driver's side. I’ll swim through and get the dummy.” You ducked back under, sucking in a breath to keep with you. Kirishima came back down, finding that hardening allowed him to sink faster.

Using your advice, he hardened his feet and lower calves, kicking through the hard glass of the window behind the driver’s side. You kicked out any remaining glass and swam through, quickly navigating for the seatbelt buckle.

It was hard to see, the water made things blurry, but after some searching you found it.

The dummy was heavy, but with enough force, you were able to pull it out of the seat and bring it into the back seat, handing it off to Kirishima.

However, as you were preparing to swim through the broken window, your foot got caught in a seatbelt. From the thrashing and moving trying to maneuver the dummy, your legs had gotten tangled.

Yanking your legs did nothing and you were running out of air. Kirishima had taken the dummy back to shore only to realize you hadn’t popped back above water.

Quickly diving back in, he was lucky to find you still moving.

Squeezing through the window, he helped free you from the seatbelts, cutting them free from your legs before helping you back above the water.

Gasping for air, you choked on water that spewed from your mouth and nose, completely unaware of just how long you'd been down there for.

“That was a good plan, next time don’t get stuck!” Kirishima’s cheery voice guided you back to reality as you swam back to shore, resting as soon as your body no longer had to float to hold itself up.

Training was over for you and Kirishima, and you’d passed with three minutes to spare. You were handed a towel and escorted to change out of your wet costume.

However, you had to return after changing into the regular training uniform.

That’s when Bakugou approached you.

“How’d you think of that plan so fast?” Bakugou’s question doesn’t seem like much of a question at all. He’d gone before you so he was done with training as well. You didn’t respond at first, opting to try and seem as invisible as possible, hoping that maybe he was talking to Momo who was within an earshot of your conversation.

“Oi!”

“It just made sense.” Was all you could conjure up to say, proceeding to move away from Bakugou after answering. However, Bakugou wasn’t pleased with this. He then decided to follow you around like a lost puppy, trying to catch up with you every time you migrated away from him.

“What’s your deal?” Bakugou finally cornered you away from the class, pushing your back against a wall.

“Please stop following me.” You didn’t want to look the blonde in the eyes. Your heart was beating faster than before. This was such a vulnerable position. You couldn’t place your finger on what it was exactly you were feeling, but the thumping of your heart was starting to hurt your head.

“Tch, dumbass.” Bakugou grumbled, his cheeks pink as he walked away, folding his arms over his chest. You didn’t mind standing still for a bit, no one could see you, but you feared you’d get into trouble which would only cause a scene. You slowly added yourself to the back of the class, opting to pay minimal attention to the lesson.

A week later, a similar scenario happened. Bakugou cornered you in the library while you played a hand-held console during lunch. You chose to eat quietly somewhere else and spend the remainder of your time in the library, safe from the noisy cafeteria.

However this time, Bakugou didn’t say anything to you. He took a seat in front of you. He debated on saying a few things to you, but it appeared that as long as he was quiet, you seemed unbothered.

Though you would occasionally catch him staring at you, which caused him to grumble something under his breath.

And then there was the day where he showed up with some sort of snack.

You can’t eat in here.

“I didn’t see you eat lunch. Eat dumbass.” Bakugou passed you the snack bar. You stared at it.

Is this some sort of peace offering? If so, why in the one place where food isn’t allowed.

You left the snack bar in its spot for the remainder of your time in the library, only reaching for it when it was time to go. Bakugou glared at you as you opened it as soon as you got outside of the library, only to watch you nibble on the bar before throwing it away, conveniently by the sign that says ‘no food or drink in the library.’

This wouldn’t be the last sort of ‘offering’ Bakugou would give to you. You seemed to tolerate him as long as he was quiet, and he was determined to find out why. Which is why he eventually asked to study in your room.

When he walked in, he was surprised to see how different your room looked.

He half expected it to look as normal as possible, similar to Ojiro’s room.

However, your room was decorated to your liking, with a poster or two on the walls, a comfy-looking blanket draped over your bed, a desk, a tv, and other various decorations.

“Why are you so quiet?” Was the first of many questions Bakugou had to ask you during your study session which you had reluctantly said yes to since he’d asked you during breakfast around other students.

It felt weird to be sitting with him privately in your dorm. Your heart was beating fast again and it was weird. You hadn’t been able to get Bakugou out of your head since he had started all these surprise visits.

“Not much to say.” You replied simply, working on your homework swiftly.

“There’s gotta be something you like, you’re not that fuckin’ boring are you?” Bakugou’s words were harsh, but they weren’t meant to be mean.

“I like video games. But you do not.” You lifted your gaze to meet his, his lips parted in awe.

“I do too play fuckin’ games.” Bakugou stood his ground.

“What games do you have?” This was the first question you’d ever asked Bakugou.

“C-cooking Mama.” Bakugou hung his head in defeat.

“They have multiplayer challenges, correct? We could play together after we finish.” You weren’t at all judgmental of his seemingly childish game choice, but it seemed that you had a copy of the game as well.

After work, you sat on your bed alongside Bakugou and the two of you competed against one another in cooking challenges. You won most of them considering you’d completed the game in its entirety and knew the in and out’s of doing the most with your time, how to get perfect dishes, etc.

You decided to let Bakugou win a few times, but it was almost as if he could tell you were letting him win.

Throwing down his console softly onto your bed, he forced your back against the mattress as he hovered over you.

“Stop going easy on me!’ Bakugou semi-shouted. You stared up at him with a seemingly blank expression, but the heat that burned your face was clear to you.

Bakugou’s warm features, albeit a bit brash and rough, were gorgeous to look at. His tough crimson eyes and his explosive blonde locks, you were almost sure this feeling you were having was one of affection, not that you knew anything about it though.

Let alone how to act on those feelings. And you had observed that Bakugou struggled to be upfront with his feelings too.

Staring down at you was mind-blowing to Bakugou. He could see your face so clearly, your eyes were wide and full of some sort of emotion even though you acted as if you were simply just observing what was happening.

His eyes couldn’t stand to stare at just your eyes though. They travelled all over your face, finding little details to look at before they found your lips.

An unknown force pulled him closer to you, his lips landing on yours. Moving against them softly, he kissed you. Your eyes widened ever so slightly as you felt his lips on yours.

You couldn’t move. It was electrifying. Yet you were slightly confused.

You didn’t know how to move your lips against his, though you gave it your best effort, now you felt embarrassed as he pulled away staring at you.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked if you-”

“I don’t know how to kiss.” You cut him off, explaining that it wasn’t that you didn’t want to kiss him, but because you didn’t know how too.

Bakugou’s eyes widened as he stared at you. Almost as if he found your statement horrifying. But he began to grin, trying not to laugh.

“If you’re going to laugh about it you can leave.” You knew you shouldn’t have said anything. Bakugou’s serious expression returned.

“Just follow my lead, it’s not rocket science.” Bakugou grumbled, leaning back down to kiss you. You did as he said, closing your eyes, trying to follow what his lips were doing.

You began to move your lips against his, trying to mimic what he was doing, until he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip which drew an embarrassing mewl from you. Pulling away, Bakugou couldn’t help but chuckle at you.

“You- what was...” You were in the middle of catching your breath and trying to ask what he had just done.

“Let’s continue our lesson.”

After half an hour of more kissing, you were completely exhausted. You’d tried to keep up with Bakugou, but every time he felt that you were getting cocky he’d pull some trick, like licking your lower lip. He also ran his hands into yours and raised them above your head, all while his lips attacked yours.

You were in some sort of haze after, completely astonished from it. But one thing was on your mind.

“Are you my boyfriend now?” You asked quietly. Bakugou’s face began to turn red.

“Yeah sure.” Bakugou stared at you for a few seconds as you packed up your things.

You were hard to describe. His peers had labeled you as quiet, composed, and analytical, and while those were true, you were also clearly intelligent along with cute.

Watching you get flustered was adorable, and he couldn’t place a finger on why. Perhaps it was just your innocence or being confused on how to kiss someone, but regardless of the fact, you were dating now.

Keeping it under wraps was easy. Bakugou spent more time with you alone, away from everyone where he learned more about you.

“I have a hard time making friends.” You expressed in his arms. Explaining to Bakugou about why you were quiet, or always by yourself, he began to learn more about you just by listening to you.

But no matter how strange you seemed to make yourself sound, he couldn’t think that it was quite the opposite.

You said you were awkward and dull? You weren’t. You were pleasant to be around, always calming Bakugou down. And you were so nice to look at you, Bakugou honestly thought you were some sort of beautiful angel.

Pulling you in for one more kiss, Bakugou held you in his arms, interrupting your story-telling. You kissed back almost instantly, now educated in the art of kissing someone back.

Pulling away, Bakugou gave you a small smile to continue. You nuzzled into him, resting your head on his chest as you continued to talk about little things.

You’d found someone who understood you, even if you had to explain it to him along the way. You’d also found someone to play cooking mama with.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

371 notes · View notes

there-must-be-a-lock · 3 years

Text

Blind Spot

Spencer Reid x (Gender Neutral) Reader

Word Count: 2640

Warnings: Hair pulling kink! Bucketloads of sexual tension but no actual sex. Gratuitous facts about bird nests. Dorks being oblivious. Lots of fluffy heart-eyed banter. Accusations of intercourse with fictional tree-beasts.

A/N: I saw a gif that made me want to pull Spencer’s hair. That’s it. I have zero shame.

For the “friends to lovers” square on my @cmbingo card! Proofread by @fangirlxwritesx67 because she’s the best.

“You look like you fucked an Ent,” you commented cheerfully, stealing sideways glances at Spencer while you waited for the light to change.

“Thanks, that’s helpful.” He grimaced, trying to tug another burr out of a snarled curl.

“Oh my god, you’re just making it worse! I’ll help you when we get back to your place. Leave it, you goober.”

“Did you just call me a goober?” Spencer asked, trying not to laugh.

“You’re like the dictionary definition of a goober,” you said fondly.

“I have three PhDs!”

“I really wish I’d gotten a video of that tumble, Doctor Goober.”

Spencer was blushing, grinning down at his lap as he shredded a piece of leaf. It was hard not to stare at him when he smiled like that.

He’d essentially face-planted into a burr bush earlier, somewhere in the Virginia woods — he’d been so excited about explaining some wonky bit of Star Trek physics theory to you that he just forgot to pay attention to his feet — and he’d floundered out with half a hedge stuck in his hair before picking up exactly where he’d left off.

In other words, Doctor Spencer Reid was a ridiculous human being. You knew that, objectively. It didn’t stop you from having a massive crush on him.

Either he was pretending not to notice, to spare your feelings, or he was socially oblivious; you tended to believe the former, considering how well you’d seen him read other people, but you appreciated it. There was a chance you’d make it out of this — if you could just get over it already — with your friendship intact.

You cleared your throat and told him, “You look like the bastard child of Grandmother Willow and the Wizard of Oz scarecrow.”

“Even if they were real, the anatomical —”

“You didn’t mention that when I brought up the Ents. Something you want to tell me about you and Treebeard?”

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffed, trying to sound exasperated, but he could barely keep a straight face for a second before he was laughing, that scratchy sunny childish giggle that only came out when he was really relaxed and carefree.

“Close the window before a bird sees you and decides to take up residence.”

“How about you watch the road?”

“What, no facts about bird nests?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

“Nope.”

“Well in that case… gyrfalcon nests are frequently re-used and passed along for generations. The oldest one that’s been discovered was in Greenland, and it was actually estimated to be approximately 2,500 years old.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes! In fact…”

You had to remind yourself, yet again, to stop staring.

Maybe someday you’d get sick of hearing Spencer talk, but you couldn’t really understand the way most of your teammates reacted to his rambling. Even if you didn’t care about what he was saying, there was something amazing about the way his eyes lit up and his hands fluttered around to illustrate his point.

You parked in front of his building and followed him upstairs. His apartment had become comfortingly familiar — ever since you and Spencer bonded over a shared love of sci-fi, you’d taken to driving him home and, if it wasn’t too late, sticking around for an episode or two of Doctor Who.

He got his ancient little DVD player up and running, and you settled on the couch, fluffing pillows and shoving aside his nest of colorful crocheted blankets, getting cozy. There was something about Spencer’s space that always felt like home; maybe it was the smell of books, or just the general Spencer-ness of the whole place.

Just being around him had always kinda felt like home, too. Sometimes you forgot you’d only known him for six months.

He disappeared into his room for a second and came back with a comb. It was cheap plastic, missing a couple teeth, and looked like it hadn’t been used in a while. You looked from him to the comb and back again.

“That actually explains a lot,” you said, grinning. Spencer rolled his eyes and sat down on the floor in front of you, leaning back against your shins, and after a dismayed glance at his curls, you commented, “We could always just shave it all off.”

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” he said primly.

You started with a couple of the less tangled pieces, finger-combing carefully through one soft lock at a time. You half-expected some comment about primates and social grooming, or at least a few facts about the quantum theory behind the TARDIS, but Spencer was uncharacteristically quiet and still, his eyes fixed on the TV.

You separated out one of the worst knots, and he tilted his head to the side to give you better access. You were being as gentle as possible, but you knew you were hurting him at the first tug — he sucked in a breath, knuckles going white as his fingers clenched on his knees.

“Sorry, I’m trying,” you sighed.

With his head tilted like this, you could see the muscle clenching in his jaw and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“S’okay,” he whispered hoarsely. “It’s not — not your fault.”

He sat there stiffly as you worked. His hair was silky, where it wasn’t hopelessly knotted, and you were close enough that you could smell whatever clean, sweet shampoo he used. Something about it made you want to hold your breath; it felt like you were too close. Spencer rarely let you inside his little bubble of personal space.

Maybe that was why he seemed uncomfortable. He was usually so fidgety, tapping out a rhythm or twirling a pen between his long fingers, and it was strange to see him motionless like this.

You ran your fingers through a de-tangled section, slow and careful, and Spencer shivered, his shoulders trembling for a moment before he went unnaturally still again.

Spencer blurted out, “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

At the same time, you asked, “Are you cold?”

You paused for a moment, surprised by the reaction, but after hesitating, Spencer just muttered, “Yeah. Cold.”

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were missing something. It was too warm, if anything; Spencer had a patchy flush crawling up his neck and over the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones.

“Here you go, goober,” you said, awkwardly cheerful in an attempt to cover your uncertainty as you grabbed an afghan from the couch and draped it around his shoulders.

“Thanks.” He pulled the blanket down onto his lap without looking at you. “But maybe I should just do this myself.”

“You’re never gonna get this loose on your own, not without scissors,” you warned, plucking at the knot around the last burr in his hair. “I’ll just, um — I’ll try to be more gentle.”

“Maybe just go for it,” he said. “Get it over with.” His voice had gone all high-pitched and strained, like he was on the verge of a panic attack. If this was how much he disliked physical contact, no wonder he always avoided hugging you.

You tried to go quickly, figuring that one quick moment of pain was better than another ten minutes of making Spencer uncomfortable. In your nervousness, you ended up tugging the burr out much more abruptly than you’d intended, and Spencer let out this rough, low, choked-off sound. Before you could apologize, he was jerking away from you, curled in on himself with his shoulders up around his ears like he was worried you were going to hit him, and —

“Sorry,” he said, voice cracking.

— what?

“Spence?” you said tentatively. “What—”

He was still just curled up on the floor in a ball of gangly limbs, but he half-turned to you, twisting around. He wouldn’t make eye contact, though; he was staring intently at the pillow that was on the couch next to you. It felt weird, looking down at him like this, so you slid down onto the floor, hoping it wouldn’t spook him. He shifted back slightly, but at least he didn’t flinch away.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t — this was a bad idea.”

The profiler in you couldn’t help but notice a few details. He was blushing, for starters. His lower lip was red where he’d been biting it, and — this was the part that surprised you most — his pupils were huge.

You knew what Spencer looked like when he was panicking, and this wasn’t it.

“Oh,” you breathed. “Oh.”

He looked down at his lap, frowning as he played with the loose thread in the cuff of his sweater.

“Sorry,” he repeated. “I know you don’t feel the same way, I wasn’t trying to — I didn’t realize it would be like that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and—”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable! I shouldn’t have asked—”

“I don’t feel the same way about what?”

“I know you’re not attracted to me,” Spencer said, barely audible.

“You’re… you…what?”

He looked up, at that, genuinely startled. There was something sweet and vulnerable shining in his eyes, and your heart was racing. You slid a little bit closer, so that your knees were almost touching Spencer’s as you faced each other, cross-legged.

“I thought you knew.” His hushed, croaky voice broke on the last word. “I thought I was being obvious.”

You gaped at him for a second before letting out a sharp, hysterical giggle.

He ducked his head again, hiding behind a curtain of hair, but not before you saw the hurt expression that flashed across his features.

“No, that’s not—” you blurted out. “Spence. Spencer.”

“Forget it,” he said sharply, his body going tense like he was about to bolt. “Can we just forget this happened?”

Before you could think better of it, you reached out and pushed a few curls back behind his ear, and then you grabbed, twisting your fingers in his hair to tug him forward. You cut off the startled noise he made with a clumsy, eager kiss.

The angle was all wrong, both of you leaning forward awkwardly, but it felt like sparks all down your spine.

You pulled away just far enough to get the words out: “I thought I was being obvious.”

Then Spencer was surging closer on his hands and knees, crowding into your space, until you had a lapful of rumpled doctor pressing you back against the couch. He cupped your jaw with gentle spidery fingers, gaze locked on your mouth, and leaned in slowly like he was still waiting for you to push him away.

There was nothing awkward about it this time. If the first kiss was sparks, this was fireworks — it was such a goddamn cliche you wanted to kick yourself for thinking it, but it was true. Your head was spinning. Every pillowy press of his lips and soft slide of his tongue seemed to steal the breath from your lungs.

By the time you broke apart you were panting, but at least you weren’t the only one. Spencer’s chest heaved as he pulled away. He was still staring at your mouth like he couldn’t help himself. Part of you wanted to kiss him again and maybe never stop, but another part of you was paralyzed, trying to process the fact that this was actually happening.

You just wanted to put the world on pause so that you could memorize everything: the way he licked his lips, the smell of his laundry detergent, the barely-perceptible movement of his pulse — you’d never seen that before because you’d never been this close to him before. You wanted to hold onto it, even the less-than-perfect details — the soundtrack of buzzy Dalek screeching in the background — the way you were folded together on the floor, all too-long legs and bony elbows, which was going to get uncomfortable fast.

Spencer seemed to feel the same way. He grazed the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, then followed the curve of your smile out to your temple and traced the shell of your ear with careful fingertips. When he brushed his curled-up fingers along the ridge of your cheekbone, you turned your head and kissed his knuckles.

His hand came to rest on your shoulder, and you wrapped your fingers around his wrist, holding it in place, feeling the blood and bones shifting under the skin.

“You really didn’t know?” you whispered.

He shook his head shyly and gave you one of those incandescent smiles that always made your heart race. “No idea.”

“I thought you were just ignoring it to spare my feelings,” you confessed.

“I thought you were doing that.”

“I thought you were good at your job!” you laughed. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?”

“I think I have a blind spot, where you’re concerned.” He was blushing again. “But I was so distracted by you that I walked into a bush! How did you not —”

“I’m the one who stares at you all the time like a creep.”

“You thought you were being creepy?” he said sheepishly. “As soon as you started touching my hair — oh my god that’s embarrassing.”

“That’s not the word I would’ve used.”

You tangled your fingers in his curls, tugging experimentally. His breath hitched.

Both of you were utterly still for a moment, watching each other, and the tension between you seemed to fill the air like a living thing. You were excruciatingly aware of all the places your bodies were touching.

You considered all the places you could touch. It would be so easy. You could tug him in, kiss him, melt into each other… there were so many possibilities, suddenly, and there was something incredible about that: the electricity, the excitement, the moment of pure potential in the pause between certainty and action.

Spencer sighed, long and shaky, and you were so close that you could feel the current of exhaled air.

“I couldn’t think straight,” he murmured, with a twitch of a smile. “That doesn’t happen to me often.”

“So you didn’t know…”

You scritched your fingernails down his scalp, marveling at the way he shivered and swayed closer like he was hypnotized. He curled his hand around the side of your neck, thumb slowly stroking the hinge of your jaw.

“I knew I liked it,” he confessed. “But — within a certain context? Not out of nowhere like that. I didn’t think it would be... like that.”

“Like what?”

“Intense.”

“Yeah?”

“But I think maybe it’s just you.” His eyes had gone all glassy and heavy-lidded, and you could barely breathe. “Maybe you drive me crazy no matter where you’re touching me.”

“I can think of a few ways to test that hypothesis.”

You caught a glimpse of his grin, but then he pressed his forehead to yours and his features went blurry, too close for you to focus.

“Never really thought I’d be into dirty talk, but if you’re going to start quoting the scientific method…”

“Funny, most of the time you never shut up,” you said, giddy and overwhelmed.

The tip of his nose brushed yours. There was maybe an inch of space between your mouths, and you wanted to close that gap so badly it felt like a physical ache.

“I mean, if you want me to start rattling off statistics—”

“Spencer.” You fisted both hands in his hair, tugging sharply, and he shuddered. “Take a hint.”

“Blind spot, remember?” he whispered, lips brushing yours as they shaped the words, feather-light and maddening.

“You know, for a genius—” you started, but he kissed you, hungry and sweet like he was making up for lost time, until you’d completely forgotten what you were going to say.

There is now a sexy follow-up here!

If you enjoyed this, please reblog or leave a message!

#cmbingo21 #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader fic

620 notes · View notes

fbfh · 3 years

Text

I think you've horribly misread the situation [shitty roommate pt 2] - leo x reader

wc: 2.3k

genre: contemporary drama, you're definitly going to get second hand embarrassment, cozy fluff

pairing: leo x reader, attempted isabella x leo

reader: gender neutral, they/them

requested: hell yeah

warnings: mild swearing, roommate tries to steal your man once again, mentions of various mainstream vampire media (twilight, the vampire diaries etc.), brief mention of castlevania (even though i haven't seen it yet lol), breif mention of videogames and assassins creed, very mild delusion (roommate is secretly convinced leo is a vampire that's in love with her), attempted age gap relationship (she's 17 and leo's 19, he shuts that down real fast), very bad poetry

summary: You and Leo are both looking foward to spending a long weekend together, and Leo is determined not to let anything interrupt it, even if it means turning down your roommate's attempts to seduce him in the kitchen.

a/n: absolutley no hate or shade or judgement to anyone who has the same or similar traits as isabella!!!!!! at her core she's annoying because she's the antagonist, not bc of any isolated trait or traits

also she's shitty cause she keeps trying to steal your boyfriend?????

Edit: I forgot to mention before, but this is a college au where you're both still demigods, so you went to camp and on quests and stuff together

This weekend is going to be all about recharging. Recharging from the ridiculous back to back closing and opening shifts at work, recharging from having to redo that stupid project twice because your professor couldn’t decide on a clear way to define the criteria, and recharging from Isabella having her townie friend Regan over almost non stop to “completely shake up her look” as she put it.

Between the constant presence of someone you’d barely consider an acquaintance and Big Time Rush’s self titled album blasting on repeat out of her giant airpod shaped speaker, it’s been harder than usual to get in some effective self care. You have no idea how many more times you can hear the phrase “I’m going for Jade West meets Elena Gilbert, with just a little Buffy Summers” before you lose your fucking mind.

Thankfully, the hard part is almost over. There’s some minor holiday tomorrow on friday, so you and Leo both have a three day weekend ahead of you, which you intend to spend entirely together. You planned ahead, frontloading homework, chores, errands, and everything you could think of to remove anything that isn’t cuddling or playing video games and watching netflix together from your horizon.

This includes going straight from work to the grocery store to stock the fridge and get any snacks you and Leo want. You had texted him a while ago asking for anything he was craving, and head into the store with a concrete list. After a while, you circle around some aisles, avoiding the check out.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something,” you muse, knowing it’s untrue, but hoping to trigger a memory anyway. You can’t put it off any longer, finally checking out and heading back to your apartment. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t avoiding Isabella just a little.

You know bringing in all these groceries would be way easier with Isabella and possibly Regan’s help, but you just don’t have the social energy to talk to anyone, much less her, right now. By some miracle, you bring everything in yourself, and hope to get it put away before you see Isabella.

You turn to the freezer, putting away the ice cream. When you turn back around, you’re suddenly met face to face with Isabella, who has opened one of the boxes and is picking at a pastry.

“Hey girlie,” she says, elongating the hey.

“Hey,” you reply lethargically, putting the last of the groceries away. She looks at the pastry in her hand like she’s just noticing it.

“Sorry, I can’t help it, I’m italian.” She smiles, endeared by her own behavior. You have no idea what being italian has to do with asking before you open a box of your roommate’s food, but this really isn’t out of character for her. She brings up the fact that she’s half italian more than Lele Pons blames her behavior on being latina.

She’s wearing sweatpants that say chaser on the leg in red and gold varsity font, and a tight tee shirt that says “it’s okay to love them both” with silhouettes of the male love interests from one of the vampire shows she always watches. You collect the plastic bags to put in recycling, and see a piece of paper on the counter.

It reads as follows:

Drowning in my mind

No one hears me cry

Who was I before society

Before society put me in a pink dress

And handed me blonde hair dye

And told me to lose ten pounds or be labeled a freak?

The happiest people cry the most

Let the lyrics be your story

But I’m not like the other skinny blonde pretty girls

I’m

Different

-b.g. xox

You hold back a sigh.

“I think this is yours.” you say, handing it to her.

“Oh, it’s just some of my poetry I left lying around, that’s so embarrassing.”

I know, you think, you do that all the time.

“Did you read it?” She asks, hopefully.

“Nope.”

“Thank god, that would have been so embarrassing. My poetry is something really… deep, and personal to me.”

“Uh huh. Hey, I’m going to be doing a lot of self care this weekend, so-”

“Oh!” she interjects, eerily similar to Phoebe Buffay - you guess she’s been watching friends again - “I wanted to ask… is Leo coming over later?” Her voice is riddled with subtext, the expression on her face a little too invested in your answer.

“Uh, yeah. I told you the other day we’re spending the weekend together…”

She cuts you off again, a sudden, intense look on her face.

“When will he be here?”

You check your phone, scrolling through your recent texts.

“By 7 at the latest.” It’s around 6:40 now.

“Oh my god, I have to change,” she rushes back to her room, presumably digging through her recent additions to her closet.

You’re frozen for a minute after the interaction, left with a furrowed brow and the beginnings of a headache. You blink, then choose to reschedule processing why she feels the need to change for your boyfriend to a more convenient time. That’s enough of that for today. You don’t care what else happens, you’re not talking to anyone besides Leo for at least the rest of the day. You retreat to your room to finally shower and change into something comfy. As you pass by Isabella’s room, you hear her talking to Regan.

“...There’s something almost… supernatural about him.”

You bite back a laugh.

“Do you think he’s a…” Regan begins, ending the sentence with something too quiet to hear, but you’d bet almost any organ she said vampire.

So close. So, so close, and yet… here you are.

Not much later, Leo texts you to let you know he’s here. You read his text, and run out to hug him in the living room before even typing a reply. He picks you up, and spins you around. The embrace is warm and fulfilling and familiar, and you wish it would last forever.

“Hi, Sparky.” you murmur into his neck.

“Estrella…” he says, rocking you back and forth gently and pressing a kiss into your jawline, “I missed you so much.” He punctuates the sentence with another kiss, this one to your lips, and you smile more genuinely than you have all day. You’re about to agree when you remember the good news you’ve been saving to tell him in person.

“Guess what I got on sale for like, half off,” you start, excitedly, continuing at his invested expression, “the Assassin’s Creed bundle I showed you!”

“No way,” he starts, and you nod.

“I’ll go get everything set up, drinks are in the kitchen!” He watches you retreat into your room, disbelieving how he could possibly get someone as perfect as you to fall for him. He’s not going to question his luck. He grabs a couple caffeinated sparkling ices, and meets you in your room, setting down his bag and grabbing some comfy clothes to change into.

As you both get settled in, you fill each other in on all the ridiculous shit you’ve been through this week. You finally conclude the bizarre - yet somehow standard - Isabella escapades.

“So I will be avoiding all contact as much as possible,” you laugh.

“Yeah, no shit,” he agrees, “Consider me your human buffer.” You thank him, hugging him again and pressing a kiss to his lips.

The next couple hours are spent cuddling and finishing season 4 of Castlevania. Both reeling from the season finale, you agree this is a good place to take a break, get some food, and decide what game you should start with. It’s already 10pm, which most people would consider too late for dinner, but you have all weekend to fuck up your sleep schedules.

“Let’s review,” Isabella says, holding up two red lipsticks. She turns to Regan. “Which one?”

“That one,” Regan says, pointing to the one on the left, then turns to her list, and continues. “Here’s what we know; we’ve never seen him eat, and he never seems tired. He’s really smart-”

“Almost too smart,” Isabella adds, selecting black rose dangle earrings from her jewelry. Regan agrees, and continues.

“He’s almost hypnotically attractive, and his smile is a little too dazzling.”

“There’s something… supernatural about him. Like he’s not… all human.”

Regan writes this down.

“Plus he’s always wearing black and red, and those flowy button up shirts? It’s all adding up, Ree. That dream that someone was outside my window, the ring, everything…” She says, referencing the black and red cocktail ring she’d found with her stuff when she’d first moved, “I’m not saying it’s definite, just that… there’s a chance.”

“What about…” Regan says hesitantly, nodding toward your room.

“Please,” she scoffs, “he’s only with them to get close to me, like Damon and Caroline. Edward couldn’t have just approached Bella out of the blue, he had to infiltrate her friend group first, to seem less suspicious. Not to sound mean or anything, but they really don’t seem like the type someone… like him… would choose.” her voice gets dreamy when she mentions him.

In spite of having seen most mainstream vampire media almost as many times as Isabella, Regan still considers her the expert on these things, and decides not to point out that Edward didn’t infiltrate Bella’s friend group. Maybe it comes up in one of the retellings she hasn’t read yet.

“So, what now?”

Isabella sets down her lipstick, and turns to her friend.

“I tell him.”

Regan’s eyes widen.

“You’re going to tell him you know?”

“No… not yet. It’s too soon, we don’t have enough evidence. I’m going to tell him I know he’s in love with me, then once he’s secure in our relationship... we’ll see where it goes.”

She stands up, assessing herself in the mirror. She chose her outfit carefully; short red dress with black roses and black mesh collar, black rose bracelet to match her earrings, snug faux leather jacket, and black stiletto ankle booties with a very skinny heel, the zipper on the outside gold, not silver. She fluffs her wavy hair and turns towards the door. She looks back one more time, holding onto the doorway.

“Wish me luck.”

Leo enters the kitchen, seeing Isabella already there, leaning against the counter seductively. She’s wearing an outfit and jewelry this late at night that makes Leo wonder if she’s going to an emo tea party. He puts the takeout in the microwave. She’s still staring at him.

“Uh… hey.”

She lets out a dainty giggle, looking him up and down.

“... Hi.”

At a loss for words, and really wanting the awkward silence to be over, he continues, “Did you need something?”

“What I need,” she walks closer to him, tracing her finger over his collar, “is you.”

What the fuck?

His brain seems to stall for a moment, and she uses this opportunity to continue.

“I know why you’re here. I know that you’re only using them to get closer to me. I know-”

“Woah-”

“That you’re in love with me.”

Okay, double what the fuck.

She takes his stunned silence as shyness, and steps closer, putting her arms around his shoulders.

“You don’t need to play so coy, I-”

This time she’s the one that gets cut off. He grabs her arms and gently steps away, trying to make it abundantly clear that he’s not into this.

“Woah, okay, slow down. First of all, you’re 17 and I’m turning 20 in a couple months, so that’s a hard no. Second, I don’t know where you got this idea, but I am not dating them to get closer to you. We’ve known each other since we were like, 15, and have been through everything together. I’ve only known you for a couple months. I love them. Probably more than I’ve loved anything ever. I thought that was pretty obvious.”

He doesn’t want to be mean, he really doesn’t, but he can tell from the look on her face that she still thinks this is all part of some game.

“So why don’t I ever see you eat? Why are you so smart, and always up at night? I know what you are.”

He has to physically hold back a laugh. He takes a step back, and places his hands on the counter.

“Isabella, I have adhd. And I’m literally an engineering student. Why wouldn’t I be smart and have a shitty sleep schedule?”

She starts to protest, and he pulls out the reheated take out from the microwave.

“And for the record, I do eat.”

Exiting the kitchen quickly and retreating back to your room, he hands you your food.

“I got the game set up!” you say excitedly.

“Nice!”

You take one look at his face and can tell something happened. He sees this, and continues.

“I just had a very… interesting interaction with Isabella,” before he finishes the sentence, your head is already in your hands. You let out a groan.

“What did she do?” you mutter from behind your hands.

He pulls you into his lap, rubbing your back.

“I’m not totally sure,” you laugh, “but I think she thinks I’m secretly in love with her…” you’re both laughing before he can even finish the sentence.

“No…” you laugh, “no fucking way…”

“Believe me, I put an end to that as soon as it started.”

“Oh, I do.”

He runs his hand over your back, and you’re quiet for a moment.

“You know,” he continues, “I think getting our own place has definitely moved up the priority list.”

You couldn’t agree more.

#leo valdez x reader #leo x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez imagine #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader

215 notes · View notes

lilysdaydreams · 3 years

Text

The Artist and The Musician

→ I do not claim to know corpse- therefore please don’t think that this is what he would actually act like, or that any details about his life are actually true. this is fiction.

→ Pairing: Corpse Husband X Fem!Reader

→ Genre: Fluff.

→ Words: 5.6k

→ Request: Hey! It’s me again lmao I was curious maybe like sykunno or raes little sister (like 2 or 3 years younger) meets the group and her and corpse just click. How would either of them react to them hearing the news that their little sis is dating corpse and like they’ve moved in together and everything idk I thought it’d be cute💛

→ Warnings: Swearing.

→ Authors Note: Its been a hard couple of weeks and im really sorry that this took so long to be done but depression rlly hit me and I could barely move myself. I hope you enjoy this, and if you do, please comment some words of encouragement or feedback 💛

→ if you have some spare change , consider buying me a coffee.

You sighed as you finally dropped the last box in your new room, stretching to get rid of the pains in your back. Grabbing your phone, you moved over to Sykkunos room, knocking before sticking your head in.

"You want subway?" you asked when he looked up from the computer. He nodded with a quick smile, and as you closed the door behind you, you could hear him talking to the stream, letting them know that it was just his sister. Quickly ordering on Ubereats, you slumped on the sofa, closing your eyes and resting for a bit.

You had decided to move in with Sykkuno a month ago, the same week you'd decided to drop out of college. It wasn't something your parents were happy with, but after seeing how big your art and business had gotten, they had let you drop out. You'd dropped out and moved to LA, moving into an apartment with Sykkuno since he had to leave the OTV house. Sykkuno had moved in a week earlier which was why his room and computer was all set up. You'd only moved in today, spending a few weeks at home with your parents before leaving for LA. Stretching, you grabbed your phone, checking how long it would be until the food came, and then clicking on Instagram. Your most recent post was of this morning, a photo of you sitting on top of half the boxes in your room, throwing a peace sign at the camera. Sykkuno had taken it for you, the whole process taking 10 minutes cuz you made him take it at 45 different angles. Scrolling through the comments, you liked a few, replying to the ones by your best friends.

@selinaissss: "HOW DARE YOU LOOK THIS PERFECT AT 8 IN THE MORNING????"

→ @junefarie: i look like a racoon dont u dare

@onlyalyssa: "we need a house tour"

→ @junefarie: bitch I dont even have a bed yet

You grabbed the subway order when the bell rang, saying a quick thank you to the delivery man. You left yours on the table, and went to Sykkunos room, yelling "Sykkuno catch!" before throwing it at him, giggling as he leapt forward from his chair to catch it. Closing the door softly behind you, you jumped onto the couch, sitting cross-legged, grabbing your sketchbook and pencils from your backpack and setting them on your lap. It was time to wind down a bit.

It was a week later and you had unpacked fully, now focusing more on creating new pieces of art for a shop update. You were also working on some designs specifically for shirts and hoodies. Sykkuno found you in front of your computer, blanket wrapped around you and glasses perched on your nose as you emailed the manufacturer you were working with for the hoodies.

"Un, y/n?" he said hesitantly knocking on the door. You spun around in your chair, raising your eyebrows at him. "What's up?"

He walked in, sitting down gingerly on the edge of the bed and you got your water from the table, taking a sip as you wait for him to talk.

"I um- You know how I- I play Among Us right?" he asked, scratching his neck.

You hummed in response, urging him on with a nod. Sykkuno was almost never this nervous around you. Most of the time, you guys talked normally, joking and teasing each other. For him to be stuttering around you, he must have been extremely nervous.

"Well, you know Rae right? She um, she asked me to make a lobby," he said, standing up and pacing now. You furrowed your brows, confused as to where this was going.

He was explaining what a lobby was (which what the fuck, you watched his streams, of course you knew what a lobby was, why was he explaining that) when you cut him off, getting up and grabbing his shoulders to stop him.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you asked, holding his shoulders with both your hands.

He sighed and slumped into you, his head coming to a rest on your shoulder.

"Rae asked me to make a lobby and it's the first time I've ever made one and I'm really nervous about it. I've already invited people, but um I was wondering if you wanted to join as well? I- It would help me to have you there." he muttered, the words muffled as he spoke into your shoulder.

"Me?" you asked, a little shocked because you had never played among us before.

He nodded against your shoulder.

"Um sure!" you said, wrapping your arms around his middle, "It'll be fun!"

"And hey," you added on when he didn't say anything after that, "I can meet all your friends as well!"

He finally lifted his head a little, smiling as he muttered out a quick "Thanks y/n."

"However," you added, jumping back onto your seat and wiggling your eyebrows at him. "You have to buy me pizza for tonight's dinner."

He chuckled, grabbing his phone and already mutterng the order to himself as he opened up the ubereats app and walked out of the room.

You turned back to the laptop humming a tune under your breath. From interactions like this, most people would probably assume that you were older but the truth was that Sykkuno was 5 years older than you. Your roles were reversed and you were probably more protective over him than anyone else. Once in high school a girl had called him cute and asked him for his number only to write it on the bathroom walls. After the first three prank calls, you'd taken the phone from him yelling at anyone who called that if they called again, that you'd personally track them down and shove a dildo up their ass.

Both of you had always been close, but with the amount of bullying and teasing he got in high school, you'd got even closer, eventually becoming his best friend in a way. Seeing Sykkuno grow as a person, get new friends who were genuinely nice and kind made you the happiest person alive. When Sykkuno had first started streaming you'd been worried, scared that people online would say something mean. When he had first started streaming with other streamers and then met Lily and all his other friends, you had been anxious, worrying that they might only be putting up a friendly facade. You were also the happiest though when he grew even closer to them, when he smiled more, laughed more, talked more.

You had yet to meet or talk to any of his friends, mostly because you'd been in college, and the pandemic had made it harder. Maybe it was finally time.

The day came and you sat in your room, once again a blanket wrapped around you, glasses perched on your nose as you accepted the discord invite Sykkuno sent you.

"DO I GO IN THE CHAT THINGY?" you yelled to Sykkuno, hearing a "YES" before clicking on the voice chat.

You mumbled a "hello", wondering if your mic was on.

"Hey, yeah I can hear you y/n."

Breathing a sigh of relief, you logged into the game, smiling as you heard sykkuno introduce you to his chat. "Hi everyone," you said, feeling a bit weird only talking to a screen. You rubbed your hands, a little nervous to be doing this.

Just then someone else joined and before you could even speak another three people joined as well, all of them yelling hello as they joined.

"He- Hey guys, how's everyone doing?" started sykkuno.

"Im doing great oh my god, guess what guys, I'm-" started Rae, cutting herself off. "wait, whos um "ms snores a lot"?

You were a bit confused for a second, furrowing you eyebrows for a second before realising what had happened.

"SYKKUNO YOU ASSHOLE WHAT THE FUCK?" you yelled, staring at the name underneath the voice channel that you now realised belonged to you. You could hear Sykkunos laughter from the other room but you just spluttered indignantly. He was the one who had set up everything on your computer yesterday because technology was something that you rarely messed around with.

"Sykkunooo" you whined, when he kept laughing, "How the fuck do I change it now?"

"Um wait, sykkuno who is this?" asked Rae, the other three echoing her. You glanced at the names and from the voices figured out that it was Rae, Toast, Sean and Corpse in the lobby.

"Hey okay, so guys this is my sister, her names y/n and we recently moved in together, so I asked her to be in the lobby because... um.." he said stuttering at the end to find a reason.

"Because he wanted to embarrass me apparently!" you exclaimed, giving him a way out.

"Oh god, um - you can change it in settings, at the bottom near where your name is."

"Ahhh," you said finding it and then simply typing in your art business name.

"Its nice to meet everyone by the way," you started. "I've been watching your videos for ages so it almost fels like I already know you"

Raes voice started in your ears and you winced at the volume befoe turning it down a bit.

"I would love to say that Sykkuno has told us a lot about you, but the truth is that he keeps a lot of secrets and I didnt even know he had a sister, I AM SO SHOCKED RIGHT NOW"

You gasped. "Sykkuno what the fuck, you didn't even tell Rae?"

"You told me not to tell a lot of people!" he protested.

You heard someone saying "they're so different!' but you ignored it and kept talking.

"Yeah at the start! and on stream! I can't believe you never even said you had a sister." you spluttered out, followed by another gasp.

"Are you embarrassed of me?" you whispered dramatically.

"N-What no of course not!" he exclaimed, and you could also imagine how wide his eyes would have gotten.

You giggled before telling him that you were only joking.

"Um since sykkuno is embarrassed of me," you said jokingly, "I'll just tell you myself."

"I'm like five years younger than sykkuno, I'm a June baby, I do art, my star sign is cancer, I'm 5'4, I recently moved in with sykkuno, and my favourite colour is purple!"

"Oh is that why your username is junefarie? Because you were born in June?" asked Sean.

Before you could say yes, someone else cut in.

"Wait, junefarie?" asked corpse, "like the artist?"

Your eyes widened as you realised that he knew you. Sure you had quite a few followers, but you never expected any of Sykkunos friends to know you from there.

"Um yeah," you said letting out a shocked laugh, "I didnt expect anyone here to know about me."

"Dude, your art is fire!" he exclaimed, voice louder now. "I was honestly thinking of buying a piece soon, I've followed you for ages!"

"Wait, I wanna see as well." whined Rae, "Ima look you up, are you on Instagram?"

"Um," you said still shocked by the fact that somone this big knew you. "yeah I'm on instagram, its just junefarie." you said first replying to Rae, "Um corpse, thankyou so much! thats so nice of yo!"

"Um my art isn't that great yet," you chuckled, embarrassed by all the attention now. "I'm hoping to improve a lot more and I have a bunch of ideas for it as well. I'm hoping to work more now that I moved in with Sy."

"Oh my god, this is amazing," whispered Rae, Toast and Sean echoing her. You ducked your head even though no one could see you. Your cheeks were blazing hot and you pressed your hands to them to cool yourself down.

"Thankyou," you mumbled, not sure what to say.

Someone else entered the lobby, and said "hi" and you welcomed the source of distraction.

"Hi! I'm Sykkunos sister, y/n!" you said , wanting to move away from the topic of your art.

The reply of "sykkuno has a SISTER?" made everyone laugh, successfully moving the attention to Sykkuno and off your art. Finally Sykkuno started the game and you breathed as you lost yourself in the art of gaming.

"OH MY GOD!" yelled Rae as the game ended and everyone appeared in the lobby. "That was like amazing, Y/N I cant belive you pulled that off!"

She was talking about the last game where there was 50/50 between corpse and Sykkuno (because you refused to kill sykkuno when you were imposter) and you somehow managed to convince Sykkuno that it was Corpse.

"Honestly, neither can I!" you exclaimed back staring at your screen, eyes blurring the screen because of how tired you were.

"I can't believe Sykkuno," mumbled corpse. "I literally said I saw her vent and kill toast and Sykkuno was still like "hmmm, I don't think so."

Giggling at Sykkunos yell of "SHES MY SISTER" you yelled out a bye as everyone started leaving and then struggled to find a way to end the call.

"Wait, how do I end it," you muttered to yourself.

You jumped as Corpse talked, not expecting anyone to be there.

"You can see yoru name at the bottom left right? Its above that but a little to the right." he said chucling a little.

"Oh." you said, you cheeks heating up. You didnt know if it was because of him or because you were utterly useless with technology.

"Um thankyou," you said awkwardly.

"No problem."

You exited out of the call, a small smile at your lips.

Sykkunos friends were nice.

After the stream, your fanbase grew, and with it, the number of orders as well. For the next week, you were buried under orders, only leaving the house to go to the post office.

An Instagram post on @junefarie account:

[ID: A photo of y/n and sykkuno standing in the middle of the living room, packages scattered everywhere. Y/n is hugging Sykkuno tight and Sykkuno is staring at the camera, a distressed look on his face.]

Caption: Thankyou so much for all my supporters and all the love shown to me. Sending out loads of orders and I cant wait for you gusy to get yours! Special thanks to @sykkuno for helping me send out orders. luv yu.

Comments:

@Sykisacutie: best sibling duo!

@valkyrae: hope my order is in their as well.

→ I SCREAMED WHEN SY TOLD ME THAT WAS YOUR NAME.

@corpse_husband: sykkuno looks like he's accepted death.

→ @sykkuno: I would have welcomed death at that point

→ @corpse_husband @sykkuno: okay ill be honest, I would have welcomed death as well.

@ariesin: go best friend, go! we need to get together to paint soon !!

→ SOONNNNNN

You flopped onto your bed, every part of your body hurting. Carrying boxes filled with orders down the stairs had tired your whole body, which wasn't used to any exercise at all. That had taken practically the whole day and then you had to clean your room because the mess from the orders had barely left any room to move. You flung your hand to the side, grabbing your phone from the table and bringing it up to your face. The "1:02" was clearly visible on your screen and you unlocked the phone, heading to Twitter. Scrolling through your feed, you liked a few tweets from friends before gearing yourself up and moving to the messages. Ever since you'd played with Corpse, Sykkuno and everyone, you'd been getting a lot of messages. Most of them were just the streamers fans, asking you if you know them or telling you to take care of sykkuno. There were a few though that targeted you, telling you that your art sucked, that they didn't know why Corpse could like my art. You'd taken to deleting them before sleeping so that your inbox wouldn't get cluttered and you could still find any serious requests or messages from your followers. Therefore, you didn't really think anything of it when there was another message from someone with a Corpse icon and you clicked on it only to see the message and gasp, immediately sitting up in bed.

Corpse_Husband → Hey, I was wondering if I could work with you on something? I really love your art and was wanting to commission or collaborate for an album cover or some merch designs. Message me on this number cuz I barely see my dms.

Underneath was a number.

"Oh my god," you whispered, unsure as to what to do.

When you had decided to drop out of college, you had expected hard days. You had expected your normal orders and mostly just improving your art and marketing it more. You had expected long days and not much money in the bank account. You certainly had not expected the immense amount of orders you'd gotten. Along with that, the amount of love and support had taken you by surprise and you had spent the last night crying because of how much love you and your art were getting.

You had also not expected such a big opportunity just landing at your feet.

Quickly you clicked on the number, putting it in your contacts with the name Corpse and then writing a quick message.

"Hey I got your twitter dm! I've personally never done art for merch or album covers but I would love the opportunity!"

You bit your lip, confused as to whether that was enough before deciding it was fine and just sent it.

Your heart beat a little faster as you slumped back onto the bed.

@junefarie Instagram story:

[ID: A zoomed-in picture of a drawing, the only part that was visible was curly hair. The text read: "Working on something SO COOL"]

Your phone was ringing. Stuffing the rest of the pizza in your mouth, you swept your hand over the covers of your bed, trying to find it. With a muttered "aha", you grabbed it and swiped on the call before it ended. Pressing the phone to your ear, you mumbled a "hello", still chewing the pizza bite.

A low rapsy voice came out of the speaker, one that you definitely didn't expect. You choked on the pizza, coughing out pieces onto the bed. Sure you guys had messaged each other a bit (you kinda had to because of the commission), but you hadn't expected him to call out of nowhere.

"Um I hope this isn't a bad time," he said when you didn't respond for a second. Of course, he didn't exactly know that hearing his voice so close to your ear had you frozen for a second.

"Um no," you replied, coughing slightly to clear your throat. "It's fine! What did you wanna talk about?"

"Oh, um I know you're already working on the commission and its looking great! I can't wait to work with the merch team to create something really cool with it, but um-" he broke off for a second sounding hesitant. "I really wanna get another commission done as well."

"Oh?" you said after a second when he didn't reply. "I'd be happy to do another one for you!"

"Uh yeah, but I'm afraid that I might be a bit late, You see I was wondering if it could be done before Christmas?"

You sucked in a breath as you counted the days in your mind.

"Hmm, it depends on how big it is tbh. There's still 2 weeks to go till Christmas so I could fit it in," you mumbled, biting your lip as you remembered the onslaught of orders you still had to send out.

"Well," he started and you smiled a little as the excitement crept into his voice. "You know that Sykkuno, Rae, Toast and me are called the 4 Amigops right? I kinda wanted a portrait of all 4 of us, in our um among us colors, and I basically wanted to print it out and send to each of them for Christmas."

"Aww, that sounds like such a good idea, I'm sure they'll all love it!" you smiled, thinking about how much Sykkuno would appreciate that.

"Uh thanks," he mumbled, "do you think you can get it done?"

"Sure!" you replied immediately. You did have a lot of orders, yes, but like, you could fit Corpse in. If you pulled a few all-nighters. "I'll send you the sketches soon okay?"

"Oh thank god, thankyu so much for this y/n, I really appreciate it. Youre one of my favourite artists and I'm really happy that I could finally commisison you after so long."

"So long?" you questioned. "Since when have you known about my art?"

There was a moment of silence and then "Um, around the time you still posted your sketches and stuff I guess?"

You furrowed your eyebrows thinking for a second before letting out a gasp.

"Corpse that was 4 years ago!"

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, oh my god, I cant believe you've seen those, I was so bad then!"

"No no, they were really good at that time as well! I was so shocked when Sykkuno told us you were his sister because like, I'd been following you for ages and I had absolutely no idea. You guys are like really different."

"Hah yah, Sykkunos so soft, and then there's me. An actual devil."

"Your usernames so different as well! I remember when I first saw a picture of you on your account and I was kind of shocked because based on the name junefarie, I was expecting someone very soft I guess but then you were literally the opposite and wearing actual devil horns."

"Oh god, that was one of the first few photos I posted of myself. that was on Halloween I think,", you took a deep breath still shocked that Corpse had known about you for that long,

"Yeah, I chose junefarie because...”

It was 2 hours later when Corpse said that he should probably be working on his music.

"Oh I'm so sorry," you apologized, "I didn't mean to keep you,"

"Oh no, I um, I liked talking to you."

Your breath caught for a moment and you smiled like a lunatic at your Pokémon covered bedsheets.

"I liked talking to you as well," you whispered out, heart sinking a little as you realized the call would be ending soon.

"Um, do you, maybe want to stay on call? like I'll just be writing and we can just chill?" he asked and you felt like your prayers had been answered.

"yes" you said quickly, not giving him a chance to back out.

He chuckled, and you fell in love a little.

Just a little.

You continued like that, calling each other every few days, talking so much and then at times, not talking at all, simply content with each others company.

He had even started facetiming you, the first time with a mask and then the second without it. You hadn't made a big deal about it, but the first time you saw him, you could barely breathe.

There were five days left until Christmas when you got the idea.

You were entirely not subtle about it, because, well to be honest, there wasn't a subtle bone in your body.

"Hey Corpse, do you like surprises?" you had asked, in the middle of colouring Raes hair (her hair was the last thing left before you could finally print the goddamn thing)

"It depends," he had murmured after a second, voice sending shivers down your spine like every time. Now whether that was because of his voice or because of him, you weren't entirely sure.

"on what?" you prodded when he refused to answer.

"On whether its a good one or a bad one" he had huffed out.

You had hummed, waited for a second and then blurted out that next question because you did not have a cent of patience.

"So what are you doing at Christmas?"

"Sleeping, if I can manage it," he replied, his voice taking on a sardonic tone, eyes flicking to you on the screen. The only thing he could see though was the top of your head because you had your iPad on the bed and were laying over it as you drew.

"Not with that attitude you aren't," you replied right back, making a small smile appear across his face.

"Hmmm, okay!" you said when he didn't reply.

He looked back over, eyebrows furrowed and mouth opening as he started to question you.

"Hey did you see the video I sent you?" you quickly asked distracting him from his question.

He would probably guess the surprise but that was okay. You only wanted to make a smile appear on his face. And honestly, for someone with anxiety, a small warning of a surprise was definitely needed.

It was Christmas day and you woke Sykkuno up at 6 in the morning with the promise that you'd buy him McDonald's. 30 minutes later, you were both in the car, yelling the lyrics to "All I want for Christmas" at the top of your lungs.

You had told sykkuno of your plan a few days ago and he had smiled at you with that stupid smile, agreeing with a small "alright."

You'd immediately realised that he knew. Even though you pretended otherwise, Sykkuno was the older one and the thing about older siblings was that they always knew.

They always knew.

So there you were, snacks loaded into your car, McDonald's fries practically everywhere, and a cake you had made in the backseat, on your way to Corpses house.

There was a lull in the music, and you were only 30 minutes away from his place, butterflies fluttering in your stomach when Sykkuno asked you a question.

"You like him right?" he murmured, head leaning against the window, eyes closed.

There was a moment of silence as you thought about what to say. Did you like Corpse? Of course, you liked Corpse! He was funny, he was nice, he made you feel like you were the only person that mattered and your heart beat faster than ever whenever he looked at you. Hell, that was through a screen, in real life, it would probably be even worse. So of course you liked him! The question was, did he like you back?

"Yeah," you answered Sykkuno, eyes straight on the road.

A second passed and then he smiled. "Good," he replied. and well. That was that. You sighed.

At least you had your brothers blessing.

Pulling into the apartment building, you breathed in, your heart beating a million times a second and the butterflies in your stomach had turned into snakes. Maybe, maybe this wasn't a good idea at all. I mean, you expected Corpse to get the hint but what if he didn't? and what if he didn't want you to come? Maybe you were being too quick. After all, It'd only been a month since you'd met.

These thoughts plagued your mind as you trudged up the stairs, turning to Sykkuno as you reached the door.

"Maybe we shouldn't have come," you whispered to him.

He looked at you, eyebrows high, "We just travelled two hours to get here. There's no way im going back without at least giving him the print."

"What if he doesn't want us to be here?" you hissed.

"Then we'll go away." he stated, "after we give him the print."

"But what if-"

Before you could even finish your sentence, the door opened and you both jumped, turning to face the person standing in the doorway.

You forced yourself to breathe as you finally saw him. It was him. Wearing a black beanie, half his hair spilling out the sides, stubble clear on his chin... it was him. At that moment, there was only one thought in your mind.

You were gonna marry this man.

"You suck at whispering," he said, and you huffed out a laugh, jumping onto him without even responding. You wrapped your arms around him, not letting go until Sykkuno cleared his throat from behind you.

You turned back immediately, grabbing the stuff in Sykkunos hands so he could greet Corpse too. As they awkwardly did their handshake/fistbump thing, you walked over to the couch behind them, putting down the print and the takeaway bags, and putting the cakebox down on the table.

You turned around to see them both standing there staring at you.

"Surprise?" you said when no one else spoke. That broke the ice a little and you grabbed the print from the couch thrusting it at Corpse.

"Open it. Open it. Open it." you mumbled, your heart beating fast as he carefully ripped the paper off. The smile that overtook his face made your heart immediately calm.

"It's beautiful," he whispered, eyes roaming everywhere, trying to take it all in. Clearing his throat, he nodded his head further into the apartment, mumbling that he was going to put it in the room, eyes still on the print as he walked there.

"You smile is gonna blind me," muttered Sykkuno.

"Oh shut up."

A few hours later, you stood in the kitchen, putting the leftover cake into Corpses fridge. You had all chilled, eating cake and the takeout that you and sykkuno had bought, laughing every few minutes. It felt like you were all on an adrenaline rush. You had facetimed Rae and Toast, Rae shrieking when she realised where you guys were. Sykkuno had just fallen into a nap, still tired from being wakened up so early, you assumed.

You leaned against the kitchen bench, smiling as Corpse walked in.

"Thankyou." he said as he came to a stop next to you, matching your position.

"For what?" you mused, even though you had a good enough idea.

"For the print. For coming here. For making my Christmas, a much happier affair than it has been my whole life." he stated, chuckling at the last point.

You turned your head sideways, and you didn't know what it was, but something about his face made you spurn into action. You grabbed his collar, pulled him down, and kissed him before he could even say anything. It would be too cliche to say that fireworks erupted. And if you were being honest they didn't. Instead, it felt like everything was finally right. You fit perfectly in his arms as they wrapped themselves around you, and you smiled into the kiss as he lifted you up, making you sit at the counter. You twirled the hair at the nape of his neck with your left hand, taking a deep breath in as you both slowed down and pulled away.

"Well," he whispered, "that was unexpected."

You raised a single eyebrow. Honesty you'd done a lot for this relationship. You just drove for nearly 3 hours! If he wanted it to progress, he was gonna have to say it himself.

"But not unwelcome," he continued when you didn't speak. A moment passed, where you could see that he was psyching himself up to say something. Finally, with a heaving sigh, he whispered "Darling, would you do me the honour of being called yours?"

You melted right there.

A nod was all he needed before he grabbed your lips with his again, both of you giggling when he accidentally hit the side of your mouth instead of the lips.

The sound of a picture being taken filled the air, making you spring apart and swing your heads over to the doorway, which had sykkuno leaning against it, his phone in his hand.

"Thank god. Rae and Toast bet that you wouldn't confess until after Christmas, so now they both owe me 20 bucks." he said, now fiddling on the phone. "Dont worry Corpse, I'll add a circle over your face or something."

Your mouth dropped open as you stared at your brother.

"You bet on my love life?" you scoffed, still shocked.

At his nod though, you swung off the bench, marching until you were eye to eye to him.

"I want half the winnings."

Rolling his eyes, he turned back to the living room, jumping onto the sofa.

"C'mon, let's watch one more episode before heading back," he said and you jumped in next to him, patting the space next to you as Corpse came in behind you.

You grabbed Sykkunos hand and squeezed it, letting him know that you were grateful that he didn't make it such a big deal. Leaning your head on corpses shoulder, you smiled to yourself.

You'd have to leave in 30 minutes, to drive back to your parents and spend the rest of Christmas with them, leaving Corpse behind. And that made you a bit sad sure, but it couldn't overpower the feeling of pure happiness at being here. At giving him a happier Christmas. You smiled as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

Nothing could overpower this feeling of absolute happiness.

fin.

Corpse husband taglist: @mythicalamphitrite @ramble-writes @atsumubabe @anxiouskat5646 @itssierramcquade @xaestheticalien @jotaroslightning @starstruckllamapuppy @gxldenskiez @shinyshimaagain @cavanana @fee-btheweeb (send an ask to be added!)

#corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband #corpse x y/n #corpse x you #corpse husband fanfiction #sykkunos sister #sykkuno fanfic #hope you enjoy #love yous

577 notes · View notes