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redgoldsparks · 1 year

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December reading and reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon.

The Savage Beard of She Dwarf by Kyle Latino

She Dwarf might be the last of her kind, but this only fuels her desire for adventure, danger, and travel. Her famous warrior mother died before she could lead She Dwarf though the final coming of age trials, so our hero is on a quest to find the lost kingdom of Dwarves to see what knowledge she can gain from the ruins. A long the way she battles and befriends a whimsical cast of misfits who end up tagging along for the journey for reasons of their own. This story is action packed, fun, beautifully drawn and extremely aesthetically queer though there are no outright discussions of anyone's gender or sexuality. I highly recommend this comic for fantasy comic fans of all ages, it was released during covid and never got the promotion or attention it deserved. Buy this book for someone for the holidays!

Under a Sugar Sky by Seanan McGuire, read by Michelle Dockrey

This third book is the series is more whimsical and light than the first two, which I suppose makes sense as it takes place primarily in a nonsense world. It introduces a few new characters, as well as bringing back Christopher and Kane from book 1. A group of these teens sets out together on a quest, but not all of them return to Earth at the end of it. I'm definitely planning to continue with the audio books of this series.

Batcat by Meggie Ramm

This magical, brightly-colored tale follows Batcat, a creature of comfort, who is driven out of their cozy home by an annoyingly friendly ghost. On their quest, Batcat is forced to face some of their deepest fears (the dark, being eaten) and some of their biggest questions: are they more a bat, or more a cat? Readers of all ages who have wondered about their own place in a world keen on dividing things into categories will relate to this quandary, and delight in the playful ways that Batcat defines themself outside of the binary. I got to read an advanced copy of this adorable book because it was written by a dear friend. Yes, I am biased, but I loved this story and highly recommend people check it out when it is released in March of 2023, or preorder it now!

Funny Planet: How Comedy Ruined Everything by Ken Jennings

This is a conversational, light, easy to read nonfiction that traces the way comedy and humor have spread their roots into almost every aspect of American life. Advertisements are now expected to be funny, as are politicians, the news, the modern art world and some types of avant-garde fashion and food. Also, social media, particularly twitter, which (even in its crumbling perhaps final days) is a near constant stream of jokes and jibes at every current happening, large or small, including very horrific tragedies that probably shouldn't be made light of. And things that were already funny, like sitcoms, have nearly doubled their joke density in the past 50 years. The author explores the historical development of comedy in these different fields, and also wonders what it is doing to our brains to be fed such a constant stream of jokes. I missed a lot of the references by virtue of having seen almost none of the TV shows or comedy specials the author was referring to, yet still found this a quick and lively read.

¡Ay, Mija!: My Bilingual Summer in Mexico by Christine Suggs

Suggs' debut memoir is a complete delight. The themes of language, translation, family, queerness, fatness, and being biracial are beautifully woven together into a rich and authentic whole. Nothing is overstated, simply presented as it was lived, and illustrated in a lovely palette of warm browns, bright golds, and smoothing blues. I loved the tiny avatar of the author's internal thoughts and how it interacted with the text and images on the page. This book uses all of the visual tools of comics to tell a wonderful coming of age story and the result is as sweet as pan dulce. I had the chance to read this book ahead of it's review and I can't recommend it more! Pre-order it now or look for it on shelves in April 2023.

The Box In The Woods by Maureen Johnson read by Kate Rudd

This fourth book in the Truly Devious YA murder mystery series introduces a new cold case for anxious teen detective Stevie Bell to bang her head against. This one, a quadruple murder from 1978 which took place in the woods outside a summer camp, was mishandled from the beginning. Dubbed 'The Box in the Woods' murders, the police at the time initially thought it was a drug deal gone wrong, then thought it might be the work of a contemporary serial killer. Stevie is hired by the new owner of the summer camp, who wants to make a podcast about the crime. Stevie doesn't care about the podcast, but she does love getting to bring her friends with her to a camp and getting her hands on a difficult case. This book continues to develop Stevie's friendships and romantic relationship in satisfying ways. I remain very delighted by and impressed with this series, and I'm excited there's a fifth book coming out before the end of the year!

Buzzing by Samuel Sattin and Rye Hickman

]The power of a supportive role playing group can't fix everything, but it goes a long way. Isaac is a teen with OCD, who suffers from near constant intrusive thoughts, cleverly visualized here as bees with mean voices. Over the story he builds confidence and community by leaning into his love of fantasy and drawing; as a former fellow misfit teen artist, it was wonderful to watch him grow. This is a nuanced and diverse coming of age story, I'm so excited for all of the readers who will discover it and see themselves in it. The art is excellent, both in the real world day to day parts of the story and the D&D fantasy parts of the story. I had the pleasure of reading an advanced copy of this book because I am friends with both of the authors- pre order it now, or look for it on shelves in July 2023!

Falcon written and read by Helen Macdonald

This was my second book this year by Helen MacDonald. Shorter and more traditionally nonfiction that H is for Hawk, this book is a collection of facts and anecdotes about the relationship of falcons and humans across many centuries and cultures. Human have long anthropomorphized falcons, attributing to them traits such as nobility, cunning, and martial prowess. Humans have been training and hunting with falcons for at least 3,000 years; lately, we have driven many species to near extinction, and created involved and wide ranging programs to try and rehabilitate the dwindling populations. I listened to this entire four hour audiobook during one long car ride and was well entertained the whole time.

Mimosa by Archie Bongiovanni

Chris, Jo, Elise, and Alex bonded over being the only queer waiters at a restaurant, but their friendship long outlasted their stint at the job. Ten years on, the crew, now in their mid and late thirties, face a whole slew of new challenges: parenting, vying for promotions, balancing partying and work, being judged by baby gays at the club, and scariest of all, drifting apart. Fans of Bongiovanni's Grease Bats will enjoy the familiar flavors of a messy, horny, queer and trans friend squad but paired with a more nuanced slice-of-life narrative. These characters are trying to stay true to themselves, invest in their communities, get laid, and support each other. But it's not so easy to balance all of those conflicting needs, and they frequently fall short. I was left hoping that the characters could forgive each other's deeply human failings. I had the pleasure of reading an advanced copy of the book- it's available for pre-order now, or check it out when it's released in March 2023!

She Who Became The Sun by Shelley Parker Chan

What a wonderful book to end the year with! This one came highly recommended by many friends and did not disappoint. Epic in scale, with fantasy rooted in Chinese history, this story is set in an alternate mid-1300s with Mongols attempting to control all of mainland China, but resisted by a rebel force. The book opens with Zhu, the only daughter of a peasant family struggling to survive during a famine. A fortune teller predicted a great destiny for Zhu's one brother, and nothing for her. But when her brother dies, Zhu decides she will inhabit his destiny instead. She disguises herself as a boy to seek shelter and education in a monastery, a story trope I have always enjoyed, but especially here because this book takes the narrative in a explicitly trans/genderqueer direction by the end. Elsewhere in the story, a eunuch general in the Mongol army hides a bitter desire for revenge from his dearest friend; the rebel leaders battle each other for power, doing nearly as much damage to their cause as they do to their enemies; and a daughter of a rebel commander despairs over the constant bloodshed and death of the seemingly endless war. This is a complicated conflict, in which neither side is morally superior to the other; I was equally compelled by the personalities on each side and also certain that all of them were on a path towards destruction that they could not escape.

#reading #book reviews #comic book reviews #books #audiobooks

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jacquelinemerritt · 10 years

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The Hunchback of Notre Dame vs. The Prince of Egypt

Originally posted September 21st, 2014

The Hunchback of Notre Dame

The Hunchback of Notre Dame is actually similar to The Prince of Egypt in a lot of respects. Both films deal with the nature of faith, racial discrimination, and class warfare, and Hunchback also does a fantastic job at showing the atrocities committed in the name of the Catholic Church during the Inquisition. Hunchback’s score is also phenomenal; Hellfire is absolutely brilliant, and its use as Frollo’s motif just adds to how sinister of a villain he is. So what’s wrong with Hunchback then? That I can actually narrow down into two categories: The Romance, and The Comic Relief. (Yes, I’m doing this film differently than The Lion King; work with me here).

The Romance

I’ve heard the arguments for why Quasimodo shouldn’t end up with Esmeralda. And they don’t hold up. Sure, it’s realistic that the ugly guy doesn’t get a pretty girl. Sure, the film did work to establish Phoebus as Esmeralda’s primary love interest. Those are both valid points, and they would both matter if it weren’t for one thing: the film makes us watch as Quasimodo has his dream of romantic love crushed.

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Oh, well, THAT’S sure a fucked up message you’re sending, Disney. Apparently ugly guys cannot ever find love beyond platonic relationships and have to accept that that will never change!

It’d be one thing if Quasimodo hadn’t fallen in love with Esmeralda. There’s really no reason for him to be in love with her; everything he does for her could simply be considered a mark of friendship. But this film goes out of its way to directly state that because of how ugly Quasimodo is, he will never find romantic love. Ever. Hell, I’d be okay if they had set up Quasimodo as someone having a childish crush. But he’s very much in love with her, as the voices in his head (aka the gargoyles) make clear.

The only thing I find redeemable in the romance is Quasimodo’s full acceptance of Esmeralda loving Phoebus. That’s a bit of interesting drama that if played correctly, could have turned into a much more interesting story; namely, a story about Quasimodo accepting that being a “nice guy” won’t get you the girl if she’s not romantically interested in you. But instead, it focused on Quasimodo’s devotion to Esmeralda, and made that devotion into one of the key forces that drives the plot.

The Comic Relief

I want to preface this by saying that not all the comic relief in this film is bad. Some of it is fantastic, in fact.

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The scene above, The Court of Miracles, is the perfect kind of comic relief for this film. It walks the line between being zany and creepy absolutely perfectly, with a bunch of flamboyantly dressed characters happily dancing and singing about how they plan to kill Quasimodo and Phoebus. It’s a nice, funny interlude that still doesn’t break completely from the gloom and darkness present in the rest of the film, while still providing quality humor and a nice break from Frollo’s rampage. Compare that, to this:

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That song does not belong in The Hunchback of Notre Dame. It just doesn’t. Nothing about that sequence fits the tone of the film at all, and it ends up just serving as a distraction from the fantastic main story. And the same can be said about any scene containing the gargoyles. I wouldn’t mind there being a quirky sidekick in this film if it was Esmeralda’s, Phoebus’, or even Frollo’s sidekick. They could both be aware of the gravity of the situation and try to make it easier to bear by joking about it. But the gargoyles are completely disconnected from the rest of the plot. They are stone creatures only Quasimodo can see, and their job is to make witty commentary on Quasimodo’s love life; at no point except the final sequence do they interact with any of the main story in any substantial way.

What The Prince of Egypt does better

Everything. The only thing The Prince of Egypt doesn’t do better than Hunchback is criticize the Catholic Church for the Inquisition, and that’s because The Prince of Egypt is set in (surprise) Egypt. Prince of Egypt has a better score (only by a little though), it has better characters and character development, it has better animation, it has a better romance (which thankfully is treated as incidental, since it is only incidental to the plot), and it has much better comic relief. Hotep and Huy are much funnier than the gargoyles, and they fit much better into their story than the gargoyles.

If you liked this, consider supporting me on Patreon, or donating to my Ko-Fi.

#disney #disney renaissance #the hunchback of notre dame #film criticism #the prince of egypt #sep 21 2014 #okay so #the thing i fail to get across in this piece is all of the framing around esmerelda not returning quasimodo's affections #the way this lack of romance is framed just feels so fucking ableist #and the fact that it seems perfectly happy to reinforce quasi's idea #that because he is ugly he is unlovable #is absolutely disgusting #and i still hold to that take #my criticism of the gargoyles is also one i stand by #they don't fit the tone at all #and humor more along the lines of court of miracles fits the tone much better #can't say i hate this piece #which is honestly a pleasant surprise

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wilbursoottranscripts · 2 years

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Transcript of Wilbur’s apology concerning antisemitic actions in the past, date 25th August 2022, cut from stream “talking and maybe some gaming”

Wilbur: This is, this, this is probably only gonna be a short stream, anyway. I was planning — My next stream was actually gonna be the Dream SMP, my Dream SMP final, but after seeing some things, I decided I should talk first.

Uh, because I didn't wanna just go straight into the Dream SMP final without having spoken to you guys about this. Uh, so yeah, I'm still gonna, we're still gonna do some gaming afterwards, you know, I, I've got — I'll be an entertainer still, but I, I do wanna talk about some important stuff first.

So, um, uh, basically today on Twitter, uh, some screenshots from 2016 of some video games, uh, were, uh, sort of, uh, sent out into — of, of my screenshots from my steam library. Uh, and in this library, uh, were some screenshots of me playing on a world with an antisemitic name in Factorio and an image of what looks to be, uh, some symbolism of a swastika on the game Ultimate Chicken Horse.

Uh, these had completely actually left my memory, uh, and seeing them made me feel just very guilty and upset, uh, about the fact that I thought they were funny enough to screenshot, which was, which, which was ridiculous. Uh, and I just wanted to say that, uh, I'm really sorry for anyone that, uh, may have been affected by that.

Uh, for those of you that have heard me talk about this before, I, I, I, I've tried to make a lot of great strides in my own morals as a person. Uh, since I was sort of like, that era, that — basically 2015 through to 2017 — I, I was not a very good person. I've been very clear about that, and I definitely am trying to be a better person now, and I hope that I've been able to show that.

Uh, so, so, yeah, that — Those things were not funny and me screenshotting them, and, and finding — ‘cause like, at the end of the day, it's, it's a horrible thing to say, but I, I think I did just really enjoy the dark humor of it, which is ridiculous, and I take full responsibility for how I was then, uh, for that.

And that is beyond me now. That's behind me. Uh, another thing I saw was some posts about, uh, the friends I kept at that time in 2016 and uh, some of those friends, I, I, I still speak to today. Uh, however, I — The ones who I don't talk to anymore, I had no idea they, uh, they, they had that kind of message. I, I, I disagreed politically with a lot of people around that time who I, who I still spent time with, as I generally didn't have too many people to hang out with, so you can't really alienate too many people out of that.

But, um, uh, I had no idea it went to that level and the, and the digging that was done has proven to me yes, that, that, that was bad of them. They shouldn't have done that. And if I'd known at the time, I, I wouldn't have associated myself with them. I can assure you.

Um, yeah. And I'm sure they can speak for themselves on the topic too, but I, I have very little — I wish I had more to say on it, honestly. Uh, I, I'm not the, I, I, I really wish I did. Uh, I, I'm just immensely sorry and I apologize if it upset or changed anyone's opinion on me. Uh, yeah, I hope, I hope you are all doing well though.

And I hope it's doing good. And, and, and I saw a lot of people on Twitter — I just wanna quickly mention before I move on — A lot of people trying to defend those actions, or, or, um, or jump to my, like, my guard. Uh, you don't need to. Uh, I'm, I'm a, I'm a grown man. I'm an adult, I'm fully capable of taking responsibility.

That — those were my actions and I have changed. Uh, you don't need to jump to my defense. Uh, but yeah. Thank you for listening and thank you for hopefully understanding. If you forgive me, thank you for that as well.

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot transcripts #tw antisemitism

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tonystarkstan · 2 years

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the thing is, when people break up, a lot of times the only thing that gets talked about is all the bad things. they talk about all the things they hated about their partner, they talk about who their partner was in their worst moments. but the love was there. the love was there, and it mattered. it mattered more than all the other stuff.

i loved it when she smiled. she had a lovely smile, like it was startled out of her, like a sunshower. sometimes she would laugh at things that i didn’t think were as funny as she did but i laughed along anyway because it was contagious and something to be bottled, something to be treasured. i would open up a call to her on facetime and she would answer with her smile and even if it wasn’t a good day, i would think, it’s a good day, because then it was.

she was better at words than anyone i know. better than me, by miles and miles, better than published authors I’ve read and loved, better than my English teachers growing up. she could turn the world into poetry. she turned me into poetry, which is a hard thing to do, because there’s not a lot about me you can turn into anything beautiful. she managed to, though. she had an uncanny ability to put words to almost any feeling, a talent that only ever failed her when we both probably needed it most. or maybe it didn’t, and i just forgot how to listen.

there’s not a person on the planet who can make me laugh the way she could. she spit dark humor and wit like she wrote the language of it. we would be talking about grief and rock bottom and fear, and then i would be laughing and i’d never feel guilty for laughing when i probably shouldn’t be because she always made it feel okay. i think she always wanted me to laugh, and i think she knew that sometimes it was either laugh or cry, and if crying would break me, she would make sure I could have a laugh and feel something close to whole again, even if just for a moment.

she’s stubborn, and i loved that about her. i say loved, past tense, because now it’s that same stubbornness that keeps her isolated from the people who love her. she’s stubborn in her insistence that everyone hates her, and now i don’t get to be there to remind her that that’s far from the truth. but she’s also stubborn in her love for people, too. she’ll love them, against her better judgment. almost especially against her better judgment. and she stubbornly loved me as best as she could when it was hardest to love me. (i wonder if that was against her better judgment, too.)

her ideas bled into mine, and vice versa. i don’t know that i’ll ever find another person who completes all my half-finished thoughts so perfectly. she could spin my prompts into works of art, she could take the barest skeleton of an idea and breathe life into it. i only wanted to read things she wrote. i only wanted to write things she wanted to read. this is evidence of that.

she made me feel safe. she made me want to tuck myself into her side, to wrap the covers tight around the both of us and play a game of make-believe where neither of us ever gets hurt again. she once woke me up from a nightmare and promised me i was okay, and i believed it. i cried my grief next to her in the dark, but she was awake and there for me and i could feel it and it was good. she was good. she is good. i hope someone is telling her that. i hope someone is making her feel safe, too.

she has a list of safe foods, and i find it incredibly endearing. quesadillas and rice from monterrey’s. grilled cheese sandwiches. chicken tenders. i once made her baked potato soup and she liked it, and i still remember that feeling of triumph and pride that i could make something she liked. i only wanted to make things she liked. i wonder what else i could have gotten her to love if we’d stayed together longer. (i guess we’ll never know.)

she’s brave. i don’t know where she gets it from, but i often found myself jealous of it. not in any malicious sort of way, but in the “i wish i were like that” way. she would wake up feeling worse than me and then do the day better. she would try to climb up the tree and i wouldn’t. she would face grief head on and i would flinch away from it. she would love fiercely knowing it could backfire on her spectacularly. i would love under the illusion that it wouldn’t.

she’s kind. she’s resilient and hardworking. she’s intelligent and perceptive and picks up on all the things that aren’t being said, and she tries her hardest, always, so i should have known better than to think what happened in the end was because of a lack of trying. it still hurt, though, and it was still the end. i wish i could change it. but i promise you, she is still all of these wonderful and gorgeous things. and i am so lucky to have gotten to love her.

i hope someone loves her as much as i did. (do.)

i hope they love her better.

— “a love letter to my ex”

#‘hope it’s been 6 months now time to move on’#idk i just miss her a lot and ppl think im crazy but they didn’t know her #not like i did at least #heartbreak #love #and other things that ache

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saiyanprincessswanie · 2 years

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random get-to-know-me ask game !!

cactus ⇢ something you’re currently learning (about)?

bamboo ⇢ do you change into a different outfit when you get home?

mahonia ⇢ what place, thing, activity inspires you most and how do you express yourself when it does?

jasmine ⇢ do you have a movie or book you loved but will never watch/read again?

chamomile ⇢ what kind of things do you like receiving as gifts?

aloe vera ⇢ what’s something (mundane) you really want to experience in life?

palm tree ⇢ do you have a fictional villain you shouldn’t like but love regardless?

taro ⇢ if someone called you right now to catch up, what’re the things you’d tell them about?

Cactus: something I’m learning? Hmmmm I’m trying to become a better writer and editor. It’s a learning curve as I never was good at writing anything. I’m also trying to slowly learn Spanish words. Until I get my cognitive issues fixed it will be a slow learning.

Bamboo: yes!!! Soon as I’m home I strip down to my underwear and grab comfy pjs 😂😂😂 the bra is off before I reach my bedroom.

Mahonia: what inspires me the most is my surroundings. I try to look to every life to help me stay motivated. I express it normally by my weird sense of humor.

Jasmine: I can’t say I won’t ever read something or watch it again once I experience it. If I love something I will go back to read or watch it.

Aloe Vera: I have always wanted to work with the poor in both the US and overseas. I’ve never been well enough to experience it. People shouldn’t have to worry about where their next meal comes from or where clean water is. I kinda wanted to join the peace core when I was younger but life happens.

Palm tree: where do I start? I LOVE villains. The joker from DC is my favorite. In the dark knight movie he made a lot of key points. Marvel there’s Brock Rumlow, Billy Russo, heck even Thanos made good points 🙈🙈🙈 I think I like villains as I have always liked to see why they tick the way they do. (Hence my criminal justice degrees)

Taro: right now I would tell them what I’ve been finding out health wise. I tend to keep a lot to myself to not worry those around me. I would tell them that I loved them cause I know tomorrow is not always promised.

Chamomile: it’s funny, my hubs will always say it’s hard to buy for me cause when I see something I buy it. But I love books, something mystery and suspenseful. I love anything with unicorns or heck Captain America or Winter Soldier collectibles. (I have a huge collection of both) Though anything that comes from the heart of a friend is always the best gift

#missy answers

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alykatsevents · 2 months

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Hello may I request a romantic match up for Welcome Home please? :) I’m a straight female and my pronouns are she/her.

I’m very shy, distant, quiet, and a little awkward. Basically a huge introvert at first. However, once I get to know you better or I at least see that you’re comfortable around me, I’ll get comfortable as well :) And once that happens, you could say I become slightly more extroverted. I get louder, laugh more, and am overall less shy, distant, quiet, and awkward. I’m also very sensitive and have tons of trouble speaking up for myself. When getting yelled at or just insulted, I try and act unbothered but I think everyone knows that I’m holding in my tears at that point… (it’s really embarrassing ok don’t judge 🫠) But one thing I can say is that I’m somewhat funny. When I feel comfortable around people or just someone, I usually let more witty and funny comments out. The same goes for when I’m like shy Y’know? Its just that it’s much more less cause the last thing I want is awkward silence. Hobbies I have are photography, gaming, golfing, bowling, board games, jigsaw puzzles, and listening to music! I mostly do these hobbies solo though since I’m either too scared or nervous to ask someone or even a friend to participate with me. My appearance usually consists of grey sweatpants, grey sweatshirt, and black boots— it’s usually my go to outfit since it’s pretty comfortable. At home, my hair is tied in a low ponytail. Outside however, my hair is let down. I let my hair down outside because I’m hella insecure about my side profile. I have a round face, curtain bangs, eye-bags, black hair, and really dark brown eyes :) some people say they look soulless but idk 🤷‍♀️ I think the only thing that’s preventing my eyes look completely soulless is the fact that I commonly express myself through reactions. I also tend to speak using a lot of “uh” or “um” because if usually when I don’t say those two words, I end up mixing up my words and my whole sentence just ends up sounding confusing 😬 Also, I smile at almost everything and anything. I’m one of those people where even in awkward, inappropriate, or tense situations— I’ll smile. It’s especially always common for me to smile when I’m nervous. Most people find this trait comical lol. But in situations where I shouldn’t be smiling but do, I never smile to upset people, I smile because I’m either extremely nervous or I just thought of something funny. Another trait I have that I’ve gotten called weird for is how often I laugh during the night rather than the day. I just feel like during the nights I remember more hilarious things than I usually do during the day. I also laugh really loud when I’m alone so I guess hearing loud laughter in the nighttime is in fact weird 🤥

I match you with...

Wally

~Hes just as distant as you lmao

~Hes very comforting

~He doesn't get humor but when he realizes it was a attempt at a joke he'll laugh

~He paints your photographs

~He does puzzles with you

~He loves your hair and is always trying to grab at it, He'll stop if you tell him to though

~He's not the best at cues so if your smiling he'll think everything is okay, He'll realize though, You might just have to tell him

~He loves your laugh

~He'll laugh when he hears your laugh

~He paints pictures for you

~He saves apples for you

~He's always trying to get you to do some arts and crafts with him

~He's a bit clueless, but he's sweet

#alykat's matchups #welcome home #welcome home matchup #welcome home matchups #wally welcome home

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w-ht-w · 1 year

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The benefits of laughter, humor, and joy

Equanimity does not equal grimness. Yes, we should avoid being moved by destructive feelings (like hatred, rage, or despair). But we should not block out humor and joy along with them. The enlightened, compassionate, equanimous person is also a joyous one.

Yes, there is lots of suffering in the world. But we shouldn’t have our jaw set and grimness set to maximum all the time. Laughter, humor, and joy are all temporary, but they leaven the heaviness/claustrophobia when life feels difficult. They are necessary strategies to enable us to continue doing meaningful work.

It is incorrect to automatically equate humor with naivety. Finding the joy/absurdism in life is vital and necessary. As Waymond in Everything, Everywhere, All At Once said: this is how I fight.

For me, I delight in humor that includes clever wordplay, surrealist/absurdism (going against the grain of what is expected). Basically, anything that combines things outside their usual context. They are expressions of shameless, spontaneous, wholesome creativity. Gets people to see things in a new way.

I’m not such a fan of physical/slapstick humor.

I actively oppose humor that is smug, aggressive (at others’ expense), overly self-deprecating, or takes a serious situation and injects too many jokes (at the expense of actually raising helpful awareness/concern). I don’t enjoy dark humor.

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Humor/laughter on par with mindfulness, in long-term benefits.

Research tells us that mindfulness can help reduce stress, improve symptoms of anxiety and depression, enhance schooland work performance, and even make some of us more attractive as partners. Mindfulness has also been found to ameliorate symptoms of addiction and chronic pain. It may even help reduce paranoia (at least among white, female college students), blood pressure, and the propensity to overeat.

Equally compelling in its power to lower cortisol levels and other markers of the stress response, reduce the risk of cardiovascular disease, improve mood, and potentially improve substance misuse disorders and treatment outcomes for individuals with mental illness? Laughter. (3)

Why do we laugh at certain things + what does that say about human psyche?

I think we laugh to cover/offload discomfort.

What is a “healthy” sense of humor?

Healthy sense of humor is one that promotes joy in the world, and/or reduces suffering. It does not take pleasure/joy at another’s expense. It does not delight in imposing dominance over others.

A healthy sense of humor delights in the sensory experience of being alive.

A healthy sense of humors delights in diversity, creativity, absurdity. Being able to witness something novel or out of the ordinary.

Funny is the subjective experience that comes from the resolution of at least two incongruous schemas.

This incongruity model can explain why older adults do not comprehend jokes as frequently as younger adults. Due to declines tied to the aging process, older adults may not have the cognitive resources needed to create multiple representations, to simultaneously hold them in their minds in order to detect the incongruity,

There may be other aspects to humor, though, where older adults hold the advantage. Wisdom is a form of reasoning that increases with age and is correlated with subjective well-being. Humor is linked with wisdom—a wise person knows how to use humor or when to laugh at oneself. (2)

Refusing to inhabit offensive jokes:

When jokes perpetuate a stereotype that we find offensive (as in ethnic, racist, or sexist jokes), we may refuse to inhibit the offensive representation. (2)

Intuition helps with humor

intuition is a form of decision-making that may develop with the expertise and experience that come with aging. Like humor, intuition is enjoying a bit of a renaissance within psychology research now that it’s been reframed as a major form of reasoning. Intuition aids humor in schema formation and incongruity resolution, and we perceive and appreciate humor more through speedy first impressions rather than logical analysis. (2)

1. https://www.mayoclinic.org/healthy-lifestyle/stress-management/in-depth/stress-relief/art-20044456

2. https://qz.com/768622/a-good-sense-of-humor-is-a-sign-of-psychological-health

3. https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-truth-about-exercise-addiction/201910/the-real-secret-serenity-sense-humor

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cr0wprince · 3 years

Text

My mom came home from work and was like, “You wanna hear something funny? This patient at the nursing home who had a hard-on about getting the COVID vaccine got the vaccine and tested positive.” And I was like, “You’re a nurse. You should know that’s not funny.” And she just fucking snapped and got so offended, “You know nurses have a twisted sense of humor.”

#rachel’s rambling #covid mention #I have dark humor I find a lot of things funny I shouldn’t #like I’m never over the top comment on pumped up kicked about ‘this song will never get old just like my classmates’#but like this is current?? this is actually happening??#she said this guy was worried about dying and she was like ‘yeah we’re all gonna die’#and ‘lol isn’t it so funny he got covid?’ no no it isn’t how are you a fucking nurse #every time she comes home with this bullshit I’m constantly just thinking about male bullies being cops and female bullies becoming nurses #because like...she tells me stories from her childhood and I’m like you sounded awful and she has no regrets #she also spouted some bullshit like oh I wonder if the vaccine is causing positive results #and I was like you sound like a conspiracy theorist #I think this is a good time to remind everyone she won’t get the vaccine because she read on Facebook that it will give you aids #she also skipped the hpv vaccine for me because she read somewhere it caused paralyzation and I’ve never had a tetanus shot #so I’m also terrified of what other shots I might’ve missed and I have no medical records #the hospital we went to shut down a couple years ago and just didn’t send our records which sounds illegal??#so fingers crossed I guess

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syiano · 3 years

Note

Hey man, good to know you're back to the game, I'm proud of your mental progress and everything else. Could you do a headcanon about the avengers with a boyfriend that is REALLY sarcastic towards authorities, makes dark remarks all the times or when people hit on their BFs like: oh I am a prince! I'll treat you like monarchy! And he answers like: oh, like, Ann Boleyn or Marie Antoinette? He dresses up into the alternative/gothic side but deep down is very caring and shit, also LOVES literature and history.

AYEE WADDUP SETH??? AND TYSM FOR CHECKING UP ON ME I'VE BEEN DOING BETTER💕💕- and bruh I'm actually alternative and goth in real life LOL.

Also sorry if I missed anything this was alot-

{Requested}

Avengers x Male!Reader

Marvel Preferences: Sarcastic Boyfriend

(Lmao Steve IS the authority) Steve has to deal with your snarky remarks everytime he tells you to so something or when he's scolding you on your safety. Everyone's surprised on how much patience he has with you, and how he makes excuses for you but not without scolding you later on.

He's not very amused when you would flirt back with anyone who's hitting on you, giving you that serious that 'Captain' look.

He grows a little worried about your dark sense of humor, and he doesn't really find any of it funny...

At first, Steve doesn't understand the whole alternative or goth fashion thing, but he grows more open to it when you would explain more to him. He still has trouble understanding it, but he does love how you can be carefree about your fashion style.

Bucky is a little worried when you would talk back to authorities, and tries to tell you not to overdo it because he doesn't want you to have to deal with any punishments. But if you're defending him, he feels more flattered and vulnerable.

He chuckles a little at your dark humor, only for the team to sit in shock when he does.

But he's not very amused when you would make such comments when people are flirting with you. Out of jealousy, he grabs your hand and drags you away, only to be grumpy when you would joke about it (you gotta make it up to him with hugs and kisses later).

He really likes your style and he admires how you can just be yourself (rip anyone who makes any mean comments about it).

You are Tony's ideal match and worst nightmare (Rhodey just says this is everyone's worst nightmare though). You two always give authories (Steve cough) a difficult time, and they have to deal with the both of you. But that comes back to you later since the both if you are sarcastic and snarky, you would end up having a comeback match with each other, which would last all day.

He gets your sense of humor which can match with how sarcastic he is (on how he uses humor at the wrong times).

When you would make a bunch those comments, Tony agrees with you and then playfully says he's much more of a prince than you are, just to make you a little jealous on purpose.

Yes, Tony says you look like you came out of a rock band (I get this alot) and comes up with a bunch of nicknames for you based off of your appearance.

Sam thinks it's usually funny and entertaining when you would talk back to authorities (Steve) sometimes, but if it's more of a serious situation, he warns you to take it more seriously.

He teases you about where you got your sense of humor, and always expects you to have some dark joke in a casual conversation (even at the wrong times). Sam doesn't really mind it, and would laugh at how shocked people are that he's not bothered by it.

Sam admires your fashion style and jokes about you getting into any trouble, only to laugh when you would come up with a snarky comeback.

Scott...is either shocked or confused everytime you talk back to the authorities. But then, he thinks it's cool and tries to copy you, only to get yelled at or look pretty stupid later on.

He has a blank stare whenever you would make dark jokes or remarks, only to say something like, "uh...what just happened and where did that come from?" As a whole, he doesn't really understand dark humor.

When you flirt back with people, he jumps in and gets defensive, trying to shoo away the person who was hitting on you, not caring if he looks ridiculous or not.

Scott thinks your fashion style is so cool, and wants to dress like you, only to probably backfire when Cassie says she wants to dress like you as he would get all defensive about it.

Peter gets worried when you would talk back to authorities, and gives you a small warning such as a light bump on your back or shoulder to get you to stop. He's trying to get used to your dark humor, but he's glad that you're able to get along with MJ so well due to your humor and fashion style.

When people flirt with you, he can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not when you would say such comments. He starts getting all pouty and gives you puppy eyes, to get more of your attention.

At first, Bruce would be really silent and feel awkward about you being rebellious. Now, he does tell you to back down, to everyone's surprise.

Your humor on the other hand? To everyone's shock, he actually laughs at a few if your dark jokes (only if he can relate to them).

He's not really bothered by your fashion style. He actually finds it ironic how sweet you can be sometimes.

Thor is not very fond of how rebellious you can be - this actually worries him, especially since it reminds him of how he used to be, and he doesn't want anything to happen to you, and he tries to get through to you.

He actually finds himself laughing at your dark humor, which surprises everyone (well, he does hang around Loki).

He finds how you dress is unique and praises you on how beautiful you are. Thor does wish people shouldn't judge you for how you dress and how suspicious they are of you, only to want to show them just how loving and caring you really are.

You're an ideal match for Loki. He just finds it's entertaining when you would always talk back to the authorities, and sits back and watches. When it comes to your dark humor, he completely understands and finds it hilarious.

But if you flirt back with people? Loki gets jealous easily so he went hestitate to steal you away and remind you who you belong to while having his way with you.

You have lots of common with Loki when it comes to your fashion style, and does think it's fasinicating how someone can have so much in common with him. He also surprises you with accessories to match with your outfits.

You and Pietro can also be everyone's worst nightmare. He can be really stubborn especially when it comes to any authorities, and what makes it more of a handful is when you would tag along with him.

He understands a little of your dark humor and finds some of your jokes funny, but it goes to an extent. Some jokes may end up triggering him ('cause of HYDRA) and he takes that very seriously.

Pietro gets jealous easily, so flirting with the person who's hitting on you will cause him to drag you away, making you have to deal with him being all grumpy.

He doesn't really care about your fashion style since he's more fixated on your personailty than anything else.

#Requested #Marvel Preferences #Avengers Preferences #Steve x male reader #Bucky x male reader #Tony x male reader #Tony Stark x male reader #Sam Wilson x male reader #Sam x male reader #Scott x male reader #Scott Lang x male reader #Peter x male reader #Peter Parker x male reader #Bruce x male reader #Bruce Banner x male reader #Thor x male reader #Loki x male reader #Pietro x male reader #Pietro Maximoff x male reader

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extasiswings · 3 years

Note

15 + buddie

15. "Shouldn't you be with her?" On ao3 here.

When Eddie is eleven, his class gets a new student. Her name is Maria Esparza and her family is from Arizona. She has dark curls that look like they would be soft to touch and a smattering of freckles across her nose and she’s so smart—always reading and forever raising her hand in class, always with the right answers—but she never acts stuck up about it.

He thinks she’s beautiful and when he gets home from the first day of school he promptly announces that he’s in love. He doesn’t understand why his mother laughs or why Sophia rolls her eyes and calls him an idiot when he’s perfectly serious.

He’s in love, he insists, and goes on believing it for three whole weeks until he gets up the courage to give Maria a flower at recess and she looks at him like he has two heads. The rejection smarts for a couple of days, but then he’s fine. So, he figures...maybe it wasn’t love after all.

Eddie is fifteen when he finds his eyes slipping too frequently to Diego Reed in autoshop, lingering on the other boy’s long, dexterous fingers, his forearms, the sharp edge of his jaw. Eddie can’t explain it, he just knows those stolen glances make him squirm, make him flush, make him feel too warm and like his very skin is too tight.

Diego steals Eddie’s first kiss two weeks before winter break, pushes him up against the back wall of the shop where they’re hidden by a truck and licks into his mouth with a confidence that Eddie can’t imagine ever having when he himself can’t even figure out what to do with his hands. But it makes his knees weak and leaves him breathless and panting when Diego pulls away with a smirk and tells him not to say anything.

It’s not love—for one thing, Eddie knows he’s not supposed to love boys, and for another, the only time he suggests it might be anything at all, Diego gives him the same look Maria had once upon a time and walks away—but it’s nothing he’s ever felt before. The next year, Angelica Phelan asks him to go to the winter formal and he gets to second base in the science lab when they slip away from the chaperones. It’s different from kissing Diego. But it’s just as good, he enjoys it just as much, and part of him is…relieved.

He doesn’t think about that too much.

Eddie is eighteen when he’s not watching where he’s going and runs directly into his future on the sidewalk. Thankfully, the only casualty is Shannon’s coffee, and after she snaps at him for not paying attention and he offers to replace her drink—well. They close down the coffee shop, emerging, startled, from conversation only when interrupted by a mildly disgruntled employee trying to lock up. Eddie walks home in a daze, Shannon’s phone number burning a hole in his pocket, and he’s simultaneously elated and terrified because it’s never been so easy being with someone, he’s never felt so seen so quickly. He’s old enough to realize that love at first sight is bullshit, but he thinks he could fall very fast.

He’s right.

They take things slow because Eddie wants to do things right, doesn’t want to risk confusing love with the heady cocktail of teenage hormones and sex. So he knows by the time he does fall into bed with her, eight months in, that he’s in love. Really in love, thinking about the future in love, factoring her into the mix when he thinks about what the hell he’s going to do with his life in love.

And then Shannon gets pregnant. And it’s too soon, he loves her but it’s too soon, and he’s terrified all over again—

He loves her though. He loves her. And she’s pregnant so—they get married. He wants to do the right thing.

At their wedding the readings are selections from Song of Songs and Corinthians.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud....Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things...

With all due respect to St. Paul, Eddie doesn’t think he knew what the hell he was talking about. Or at least, maybe he did, but he was being pretty damn aspirational and left out a few things.

Because after the wedding…after the wedding, Eddie learns a lot more about love.

Love is beautiful, yes. But love is also…trying to do the right thing and fucking up. Love is fighting and knowing exactly what to say to cut the deepest and not always holding back. Love is forgiving, but after a point finding it difficult to forget.

Or maybe that’s not love, maybe that’s just marriage. Maybe it’s a little of both. Because love endures—sure. Love endured with Shannon even when trust was nonexistent, when their marriage was fractured, shattered pieces strewn across the floor ready to draw blood if either of them tried to pick them up.

Love isn’t enough. That’s what Eddie knows. Or maybe it is, maybe love would have been enough to fix what was broken if it hadn’t been his. Shannon’s gone, so they’ll never be able to have that conversation. He’ll never know the answer.

Love endures. Eddie kind of wishes it didn’t. It would make a lot of things a lot easier.

But…it’s fine. He’s fine. Shannon dies and he locks that piece of himself away and has no plans to ever fall in love again.

Then again, God has a funny sense of humor and never seems to resist an opportunity to be an asshole, so of course…he does. Slowly. Quietly. The threads slipping through the cracks in his walls so carefully that he doesn’t even notice until they’re twined around his heart, unspooling through his blood, through his veins with every pulse. Eddie doesn’t notice.

And then he gets shot and it’s like being hit by lightning, an electric shock of clarity down his spine, rooting him in place as he meets Buck’s eyes.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

***

Eddie despises recovery.

He’s never been good at being still, at being useless, at being left alone with nothing but his own head. And maybe he’s not entirely alone—he has Christopher, after all, and Christopher is understandably a little clingy now that he’s home from the hospital—but Christopher sleeps and has play dates and spends time in his room and just in general isn’t in Eddie’s space every second of every day.

And then there’s Buck. Buck who offered to keep staying on the couch to take care of everything they needed when Eddie came home from the hospital. Buck who Eddie sent home to his own bed with promises to call if he needed help because having Buck so close after Eddie’s little realization was stirring him up, making everything a million times more difficult in his head. Buck’s still over frequently, but it’s less dangerous if he’s not staying overnight, if Eddie can’t wake up and be tempted to walk out to the living room and pull Buck into his bed. Not for anything sexual—he’s on too many medications and too immobilized for that even if it was remotely a good idea—but to be held. To feel wanted. To feel safe.

He knows Buck probably wouldn’t say no, wouldn’t think anything of it except that maybe he’s a little raw and fragile, which he is. Which is exactly why he can’t ask. So. Removing the temptation it is.

But. Being left alone with his own head is a terrible idea. He’s in pain because he lowered the doses of his pain meds so he would stop worrying about developing any dependency. He can’t sleep without waking up with screams trapped behind his teeth and the smell of blood and gunpowder in his nose. And he can’t stop thinking about Buck. About being in love with Buck. About wanting Buck. About whether he could ever have him or whether he’ll ever be okay enough to be in a relationship. About whether Buck could ever want him back or if he’ll ever feel safe enough to risk their friendship by even asking.

He broke up with Ana the second he was able to figure out how to do it without feeling like a complete dick. But he hasn’t told Buck that. He doesn’t know why.

And then there’s—

The key turns in the lock and Eddie starts, looking up from his place on the couch. Christopher is with his abuela for the night, and he didn’t expect—

“Hey,” Buck calls, stepping through the door. “I brought dinner.”

Eddie stares.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, before he can stop himself. “Shouldn’t you be with Taylor?”

—Taylor. Buck and Taylor. Which, Buck waited weeks to tell him about, hedging about why he wanted to know if it was okay to invite her to Eddie’s welcome home party. Which, Buck only did admit to when Eddie called one night at 2AM and Taylor answered Buck’s phone.

Eddie clears his throat, the question sounding a little too sharp and accusatory to his ears.

“I just meant,” he adds, softening, “I thought you said you had a date tonight.”

An odd look passes over Buck’s face.

“Isabel called me,” he replies. “She said you were by yourself, asked if I would check on you. We rescheduled, it’s fine.”

Eddie nods once and pulls the couch throw tighter around his shoulders with his good arm. A petty, possessive piece of him is pleased. That Buck’s there. That Buck would drop everything for him.

He’s always been wary of Taylor. Even way back when they first met and she was prowling around the station filming everyone and flirting with Buck. But now? Now he’s jealous, his stomach twisting at the very reminder that she has Buck the way Eddie wants him.

But at the same time…he hates that. Hates the jealousy, hates feeling possessive. Because what claim does he have over Buck’s affections? None. Especially not when he can’t even admit to loving him outside his head.

He hates it because he knows that more than anything, Buck deserves to be happy. And maybe Eddie could make him happy, but—

Even if Buck felt the same—and Eddie isn’t convinced of that, doesn’t have the arrogance to assume—what right does he have to say please, to say wait, to ask Buck to put his life on hold indefinitely while Eddie sorts through the tangled mess in his head in the hope that one day he’ll finally be ready? He can’t be that selfish. Especially not with Buck.

Buck deserves to be happy. Even if that’s with Taylor Kelly. Even if it means Eddie loses him.

He doesn’t get to be jealous.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Eddie replies quietly. “I’m fine.”

Buck sets the bag in his arms down on the coffee table.

“You don’t look fine,” he points out. “Actually, you look like shit. Isabel was right to call me.”

“I’m fine,” Eddie repeats. His heart pangs at the concern in Buck’s eyes. “Really, it’s okay—you should—you should—”

Go. Call Taylor back. Enjoy your date.

He wants to do the right thing. He really does. But the rest of the words refuse to leave his throat.

Buck shakes his head anyway. “I’m not going anywhere,” he insists. “So tell me what’s going on. How can I help?”

Eddie bites his lip. Drags his hand over his jaw before making a face. The messy, overgrown scruff is itchy and difficult to manage on his own, and the foreignness of it doesn’t help him feel grounded in his own body when he wakes up gasping in the middle of the night.

“It’s stupid,” he says.

“I’m sure it’s not,” Buck replies. “And I’m here, so you might as well just talk.”

I’m in love with you, Eddie thinks. And I can’t sleep. And I can’t shave. And everything hurts. And I just want to stop being afraid—

He swallows. He can’t say all of that. He can’t blow everything up that way.

So, he picks the easiest one.

“I can’t shave with my left hand and it’s driving me insane.”

Buck blinks. Then he laughs as the worry in his brow smooths out.

“That’s it?” He asks. “Well, that’s easy. I can do that. Come on.”

And that’s how Eddie winds up sitting on the bathroom counter with shaving cream all over his face while Buck wets a razor and steps between his legs.

His breath catches.

“You good?” Buck asks, his voice low. His eyes are soft and focused, and Eddie almost regrets everything because the proximity—god, the proximity. He’s been so cold since the shooting and Buck is so warm, heat spreading through Eddie’s body from every discrete point of contact. Buck tips his chin back and Eddie lets his eyes slip closed.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I’m good.”

The razor drags along his skin. Neither of them say a word, the main sound in the room the drip of the faucet when Buck rinses the razor between passes. They’ve always been physical with each other, but this sort of thing is new. Intimate.

Eddie aches.

His eyes open a crack to watch. Buck’s lower lip is caught between his teeth, and having every ounce of that focus on him is…intoxicating.

I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Buck steps in closer, Eddie’s legs spread ever so slightly wider. A spark of heat flashes through him and he inhales sharply—Buck’s startled enough that his hand slips and the razor nicks Eddie’s jaw.

“Shit,” Buck swears. The razor clatters into the sink. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

Eddie opens his eyes the rest of the way. “It’s fine,” he assures. “What, you think I’ve never cut myself shaving before? It’s still better than I would have managed myself.”

“I’m—” Buck looks stricken, his fingers reaching out to gently cradle Eddie’s jaw only for him to snatch them back almost instantly, the tip of one faintly smeared with blood. His hand trembles.

“Buck,” Eddie says quietly. Buck’s eyes are fixed on the red smear and Eddie is sent back—

Watching his blood splash across Buck’s face and not realizing at first that it was his. Being half-delirious on the way to the hospital worrying that Buck had been hurt—

All this time, Buck’s been moving forward, pushing ahead, for Christopher, for him, for everyone, and Eddie knew he wasn’t entirely okay, knew he was fucked up from the moment in the hospital when he said I think it would have been better if I was the one who got shot, but since Eddie’s been home, Buck has seemed…better.

Maybe not. Maybe he’s been struggling to pretend as much as Eddie has.

Eddie twists around to grab the towel draped over the faucet and wets it enough to wash the rest of the shaving cream off his face, feels the sting of soap and water in the cut. And then he reaches out to grab Buck’s hand, wiping the blood off of his finger.

There’s something profane about blood staining skin. And something sacred in the act of washing it clean.

Eddie wonders if anyone helped Buck wash his blood off when he was in surgery. Taylor, maybe.

But no, that doesn’t feel right.

Buck probably did it himself. Alone.

“Hey.” Eddie squeezes Buck’s fingers. When Buck doesn’t look at him, he reaches out and curls his hand around the side of Buck’s neck, tips Buck’s chin up with his thumb to force him to meet his eyes. “Hey. It’s okay. I’m okay. No harm done.”

Buck breathes out shakily. His throat works, his face passes through a million stages—finally, his hands fall to the counter on either side of Eddie’s hips and his forehead drops to Eddie’s good shoulder. Eddie lets his hand slip around to the back of Buck’s neck, his fingers combing up through the short hairs there. He turns his head and he’s close enough to kiss the side of Buck’s, but he holds off. It feels like it would be too much. Too much when Buck doesn’t know how he really feels, what he really wants. But even just this—the closeness, the touch—is good. Needed. A balm to the itch under his skin.

When Buck turns his face into Eddie’s neck and inhales, Eddie thinks maybe Buck might need this just as badly.

“I’m okay,” he repeats, closing his eyes again as his fingers comb through Buck’s hair. “We’re okay. We’re okay.”

They stay like that for a long time. Buck’s phone rings out once, but neither of them moves to answer it. Eventually, Buck lifts his head and clears his throat roughly as he steps back.

Eddie’s hand falls away from Buck’s neck. He feels the absence keenly.

“You good?” He asks. Buck nods. His eyes are red.

“Yeah,” Buck replies. He pauses. Shakes his head. “No. But—can we just—can I just finish this for now? I want to finish this.”

Eddie watches him for a moment. Wets his lips. Then finally nods and passes over the shaving cream again.

“Sure,” he says. “I trust you.”

I love you.

Maybe…maybe eventually he’ll be braver. Maybe eventually, both of them will be free at the same time and he’ll be whole and healed, or at least something closer to it than he is now. Maybe eventually…love will be enough. Maybe.

For now, he has this.

#chapel writes #eddie diaz #buddie #buddie fic #prompt fill #911 fic

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jenomark · 3 years

Text

•FRIENDS WITH•

➔Pairing: Jaemin x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: Mentions of Jeno ➔Genre: Romance & Angst & Smut ➔Warnings: Sex, Drinking, A lot of pining etc. ➔Word count: 4,338

➔Summary: Three best friends. One is your ex, the other is someone you've been in love with for a long time, and the third friend is you. You're a mess, but you're trying your best to find your way back to where you belong.

When you opened the door, Jaemin was there, just like he’d always been. Standing on your front porch, with one hand in his pocket, and the other below his heart, as if he had trouble keeping it in place. He was wearing loose fitting sweatpants, and a white t-shirt that left little to the imagination.

“Were you sleeping?” you asked.

“I was tossing and turning before you called,” he said, leaning against the doorway. “May I come in?”

Jaemin had always walked into your house uninvited. He never knocked, normally never announced his presence. Sometimes, you would come home from work, and he would be sitting on your couch eating all of your food, feet up on the table, a lazy smile on his face. It was like he lived with you, coming and going as he pleased, a piece of furniture in your life. But this time, he didn’t waltz past you like he owned the place. He asked for your permission first. There was something about that permission that sat like dead weight at the bottom of your stomach.

“I wouldn’t have called if…” you said, trailing off.

What else could you really say? I wouldn’t have called if Jeno hadn’t dumped me. Jeno, you know him, right? Our other best friend.

Jaemin stood underneath the porch light, the glow morphing his sweet features into stone. His jaw clenched and unclenched, as it often did when he was thinking too much. When you moved aside to grant his permission, he smiled and slipped by you without saying much. The hairs on his arm brushed against yours.

That is when the tears started to fall.

You followed him through the darkness of your home. It had been yours for over a year now, but it felt as much his as it did yours. You hadn’t thought to turn on any of the lights. You came home and immediately called him, because Jaemin always knew how to take care of you. You had sat in the darkened hallway, sprawled across the stairs, until Jaemin pulled up in his car.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked.

He turned on your lights as he went, each knob or pull of a string easy for him to find. You caught sight of your reflection in a picture frame on the fireplace and turned away. You didn’t want to know what he could see. You already knew what kind of woman would be staring back.

“It’s late, “ you said.

He laughed, “It’s barely midnight, my love.”

“You were sleeping.”

“I wasn’t sleeping well.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, again.

Jaemin turned and looked at you in the light for the first time. You had left your shoes in the car, so you were barefoot. You’d been crying for what felt like hours, eyes feeling like they were swollen shut. You were dressed in one of Jeno’s t-shirts that was too big on your frame. If you moved, you could still smell Jeno all around you.

“Let's get you cleaned up,” he said.

Once the tears started, they wouldn’t stop. Jaemin reached up to wipe them away, his thumb tracing the edge of your jaw before they began to roll down your neck. As he ushered you to your bedroom, he didn’t ask what happened. He had enough respect for you and Jeno not to ask. You knew deep down that his anger fought against him, told him not to react. He once said it was his duty as a best friend to hurt all of the boys who hurt you, but no one ever told him what to do if the boy who hurt you was his best friend, too.

You changed into pajamas and watched trashy reality television until you thought he was asleep. You curled your legs underneath you on the couch and watched him a little while longer. You watched his chest rise and fall, his t-shirt lightly clinging to his chest. He was a busy man, but he would drop anything for his friends. You continually felt like you didn’t deserve him.

“You deserve better, you know,” he said, peering at you through his half-opened eyes, his eyelids heavy with sleep.

“I’m not sure that’s true,” you whispered.

Jaemin stretched his hands over his head. You couldn’t keep your eyes from wandering over to the little sliver of his exposed stomach. You couldn’t keep any thoughts from wondering what it would feel like to kiss him there, letting your lips trail below the waistband of his sweatpants.

He hadn’t dated anyone for nearly two years. He said it was because no women approached him, but you had a theory that he was lying through his teeth. Jaemin had always been a good-looking guy. His kind eyes and weird sense of humor made women fall for him as quickly as they met him. He was single because it was his choice.

“The guys you date are awful,” he said.

“Even Jeno?” you asked.

Though it was dark again, and all you could see were parts of his face illuminated by the television, you could tell he was irritated.

“What kind of man do I deserve?” you found yourself asking out loud.

Part of you wanted him to say that you deserved him. You held onto the hope that you could be with each other one day, that you had simply fallen in love with the wrong friend. Best friends shouldn’t hope for that. It felt greedy to want that life with him.

“I don’t know,” he said. You could practically hear his smile in his words. “Someone who is kind and funny, and knows how beautiful you are. He has to like the things you like.”

You laughed, burying your head in my arms. Jaemin laughed along with you, humming a song you’d been in love with since you were a kid, and twisting his hips around on your couch. It always baffled you how easily he could recall things you’d told him years ago.

“I can think of a million people like that, Jaem.”

“Yeah?” he asked, raising one eyebrow. “Well, they’re not good people, and they certainly don’t deserve my girl.”

You both fell silent, staring at anything around the room but each other. You placed your feet on the floor and leaned your back against the couch.

Do you know how hard it is to realize for the first time that you love someone? It’s not like you can admit it, pack up all of your baggage, take them by the hand, and push your way into a future of bliss. They have to want you back. You have to fight for it. And there are consequences.

Truth be told, you wouldn’t have chosen Jeno at all if Jaemin had loved you back when it was time to. But you did choose him, and you can’t rewind your life to a place in the movie where everyone is happy and everything is right.

“I’m looking in the wrong places, huh?” you asked him. “ I settled. How many times can I do this to myself? How many times can both of us waste our lives sitting on this couch waiting for something to happen?”

“ I like it here,” he said, patting the cushions. “Your couch is my second bed, and you have great snacks.”

You wanted to laugh, but felt tears welling up again. You angled your body so that you were facing him. His eyes were trained on you, but there was no laugh caught on the edge of his lips, and no smile reaching his eyes.

“You’re beautiful.” was all he said.

You and Jaemin fell into a post-breakup routine. You would hang out when he was on break from filming music videos, and you would never talk about what happened until the next time another man broke your heart. He cracked jokes all day to cheer you up, and you laughed until it hurt. Your time together ended before the sun went down, and he would always hug you goodbye a second too long. And you loved those hugs. Being close to him meant feeling what it would be like if you could hug him whenever you wanted. He held you tightly, wrapping his arms all the way around your body. It left you breathless.

Sometimes, you would visit him on set, avoiding Jeno by a mile, and sitting by Jaemin just to be near him. He always got so lost in the monitoring that he forgot you were there. He did this thing where his face would get serious, concentration turning it to stone. You always had to break him out of the spell and remind him to eat something to keep his energy.

Jaemin is and will always be your best friend. You loved him like a best friend. When it began to feel like more, you needed him more. You felt a little bit like you were constantly reaching out for his hand; it just always fell short. And then there were times when you would push him away. You don’t know why you did it.

“You should date more, “ you said. “ Let a girl wine and dine you.”

He laughed. “I don’t need to date , and I certainly don't need to get drunk to have a good time. That's what I have you for.”

“I’m being serious, Jaem.”

He looked up from his mc hosting script. “I know you are, but the question is why you’re being serious with me?”

Because I am mindlessly in love with you, and I am terrified of what it means for me. If you fall in love with someone else, I can just say that it wasn’t meant to be and move on. I don’t want to face the truth that you might never love me back.

“I’ve always wanted to double date,” you said lamely. “It sounds fun.”

“It sounds horrible. How about I swing by after work with a pizza and some nice cola, and we make fun of everyone that’s hurt us?” he asked. “Double dating a slice of spicy pizza isn’t a bad idea. ”

“Sure,” you said.

Your routine was full-proof if you wanted to spend the rest of your life watching reality television with your crush while you thought about burying your face into his chest.

“Have you thought about dating again?” he asked. “You and Jeno seem alright now. You can almost stand to be in the same room together.”

It had been months since you and Jeno broke up, and it was the first time Jaemin had brought him up in a while. The other night, you returned Jeno’s t-shirt to him and talked about how you felt the night he broke up with you. Although your initial friendship would never be the same, you felt like everything would be okay.

“Dating is a bad idea for me.” you said.

“Why not? You can’t sit on the couch for the rest of your life, darling.” he smirked.

Jaemin always stepped so delicately around your dating life, but there was something in his eyes that was reckless and uncaring. He was pushing you, and you weren't sure how you should push back.

“Why have a boyfriend when I have you?” you blurted. Fuck. “I mean, because you...do..things”

He looked up at you, again. The silence in the room was awkward. All you could do from setting yourself on fire was act like a spot on the wall was more important than the entire conversation.

“I..do..things?” he asked.

“No.”

“No I don’t do...things?”

You shook your head. Unfortunately, it left him more confused than ever.

Jaemin said your name, and the way he said it made you feel dizzy. It was like he was pleading with you to finally tell the truth, to admit what you really meant by it. It should have been the moment when you confessed that you were head over heels in love with him, and that it was never going to be about Jeno again.

“I should go,” you said, picking up your bag.

You were scared that if you looked at him and saw the disappointment on his face, you would cry. You knew it was there. You could feel it coming at you in waves.

“See you later tonight?” you asked, popping a thin smile on my lips.

You hovered around the doorway. Jaemin cleared his throat and said, “Actually, I just remembered that I can’t. I have a lot of work to do.”

You nodded and left, hating yourself for not saying anything else.

You hadn’t spoken much in a month. You created the ripple that disturbed the whole dynamic. You felt like you had embarrassed him by suggesting he was yours to claim. Of course he wasn’t yours. He wouldn’t ever be yours. Look at you.

You had been going on dates with a man whose name didn’t matter. He was nice enough, but you didn’t think you would make it past date two. He seemed too into his hair, and he didn’t truly think you were funny. He laughed at your jokes too easily, just like Jeno did, which somehow bothered you. Jaemin would have told you the truth- that you were trying too hard.

I think I am trying too hard. I’m trying too hard to forget him, but he’s all I fucking think about. The way he licks his lips before he talks, and how his humor is always so self-deprecating, but so damn witty. How he’ll dance to anything just to make even the sourest of people smile. He’s the kind of man that is intelligent one moment but extremely stupid the next. He is the kind of man that makes people fall in love with themself.

“You look good,” the mystery date man said, breaking your reverie. He opened the car door for you and checked his watch, impatiently. “I think we might be late for the reservation.”

“Sorry for taking so long to get ready. I sometimes forget what I’m doing.” you said.

“We’ll have to eat somewhere else,” he said.

He put his hand on your thigh when you got into the car. You let it rest there for a few seconds before you shifted your body and he got the hint.

“You look really nice tonight.” he said.

“Thank you so much.” you smiled.

The mystery man was decent looking, if you liked the type of man who looks like he canoes for fun. He was stable, which was good. You could tell he would be a great man for some girl one day, and that maybe she would like getting fingerbanged in the front seat of a car from the 1990's.

When he started the car, he was still looking at you adoringly. You felt like you were being mentally skinned alive from his stare, so you looked away.

“Oh my God.” you said.

The mystery man's eyes snapped to your line of sight. Standing in the gleam of the headlights was Jaemin. His white dress shirt was untucked from his pants, and his tie was shoved into the pocket of his dinner jacket. He stood with one hand on his hip. In his other hand, he held an empty bottle of wine.

“Holy shit, is that a kpop idol?” the mystery man asked.

“In the flesh,” you said, bewildered.

He rolled down his window and yelled, “What’s up, man?”

By the way Jaemin was standing, you could tell he was drunk. He didn’t need to have the evidence stuffed into his right hand. Drunk Jaemin was a show to behold. He didn’t drink much, or ever, but when he did, he usually ended up hurting himself from doing something stupid.

“Get out of the car,” Jaemin said, pointing at the mystery man.” I’m gonna kick your ass, man.”

And there was the something stupid.

“What did he just say?” the mystery man asked.

“I believe he said, “Have a nice date!’,” you answered. “Please drive away now.”

“I’ll hit him with my car if I do.” the mystery man said. “He’s so drunk, look at him. Should I film this?”

“Holy fuck, no, you shouldn’t film this,” you said.

Jaemin got on his knees in front of the car and started crawling towards you. He was making animal noises and pawing at the ground. It wasn’t the weirdest thing Jaemin had done, but it was definitely going towards the top of the list.

“Jaemin, get up.” you shouted. “You’re going to hurt your knees.”

“I’m already hurt.” he shouted back.

“This guy is a legend,”the mystery man whispered.

You rolled your eyes and opened the car door. Jaemin looked up at you and found it too difficult, so he looked down at the ground.

“Up,” you said, sternly.

“Make me.” Jaemin said.

You snatched the bottle still clutched in his fist and threw it across your lawn. Like a petulant child, he got onto his feet and tried chasing after it. You blocked his path.

“Did you sleep with him?” Jaemin asked, trying to get around you.

You could feel red-hot heat creeping to your face. “That is none of your business.”

“You didn’t call me,” he said. “You call me, and I come running to save the day, but you didn’t. You didn’t call.”

“She doesn’t need saving” the mystery man said, waving his hand.

“You didn’t call,” Jaemin repeated.

“I’m not heartbroken,” you said, swallowing the large lump that formed in your throat.

“I am.” he said, touching his hand just below his heart. “Do you love him?”

You could feel a hysteric laugh bubbling to your throat. The situation was too damn funny to you. At the mention of love, the mystery man recoiled back into his car.

“I’m gonna go,” he said.

“Good idea,” you said. “I’m gonna sober up kpop guy. I’ll call you..or I won’t.”

You took Jaemin’s arm and led him up your front steps, never looking back. He groaned and clutched his head in pain.

“Good,” you said. “Maybe it will teach you a lesson.”

“Doubt it,” he grumbled.

You led him inside and thought of how different this was from months ago when he was the one taking care of you.

“Sit. I’ll get you some water and make up the couch for you.” you said.

You went into the kitchen and took a glass down from a shelf. You took a minute to collect myself, leaning your hip against the counter for support. Seeing Jaemin after a long period of time always brought the memories flooding back. You weren't angry with him, because there was no reason to be. You just couldn’t keep the pieces of yourself together when he looked at you like you caused him physical pain.

“You look pretty,” Jaemin said.

You turned around and saw that he was standing in the doorway, gripping the frame to keep from falling over.

“And I mean really pretty,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“I fucked up”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I ruined your date.”

“I didn’t like him, anyway.”

“He didn’t do... things?” Jaemin asked.

“No, Jaem. He didn’t do things.”

“You sound angry with me.”

“I’m just tired.”

“I’m sorry I’m drunk.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

He shuffled towards you. Under the fluorescent lights, his eyes were glassy and red. He couldn’t quite focus on your face. You filled up the glass of water and handed it to him. His fingers touched yours as he took the glass from you.

“I missed you,” he said.

You smiled and meant it. “You should rest tonight, keep hydrated, and we’ll talk about it in the morning before I leave for work.”

He nodded. “Okay. In the morning.”

Jaemin fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. You watched him from the bottom of the stairs. He was moaning in his sleep, one arm flung over the couch, and he was drooling. You wanted nothing more than to go to him and run your fingers through his hair to calm him, but you couldn’t bring myself to move from the spot.

You had tried to work out your feelings for the past month while he went missing from your life. You tried to pick apart all the reasons why you felt like you needed him. You tried moving on, but there was no moving on from him. You had every intention of falling out of love with him, but if falling out of love was easier, everyone would do it.

Dammit, Na Jaemin.

You woke up around 4 a.m. to feel Jaemin crawling underneath your sheets. He was quiet and careful not to touch you. You both laid side by side, inches apart, and listened to the rain beginning to drum on your window. You could feel your heartbeat quicken, just knowing that he was so close to you, that you could feel his body heat warming your own. Your breathing felt so loud in the stillness. You controlled each breath, focusing only on the way your chest rose and fell beside him.

You reached out and let your fingers touch the soft skin on his forearm. You couldn’t feel him move at all, as he took your hand in his and squeezed it tightly.

Neither of you spoke. Even if you could have gotten the words out, you didn’t know what either of you would say. You just laid there, the only movement coming from his thumb massaging your palm.

And it was a perfect moment. You turned your body onto his, interlocking both of his hands with yours to steady yourself. Your hair cascaded onto his chest and fell a little into his mouth. He pushed it back to get a good look at the plains of your face in the moonlight. His eyes were cleared now, focused on your mouth. You sat up, straddling him with your knees on either side of his slim hips. You rubbed your thumb across his wet lips, the tip of his tongue colliding with it. His eyes dared you to kiss him, but you were too slow. Jaemin yanked your wrists, pulling you back down to him. His lips brushed against yours, teasingly. You wanted to taste him, to devour him. You pressed your palms against his chest and leaned down for the kiss, parting your lips to let him know that you were all his. Kissing him was like kissing a moment. You kissed all of your laughter, all of your pain. You kissed all of your hellos and goodbyes.

Jaemin’s hands roamed underneath your shirt, holding the small of your back to keep you in place as he pushed against you, harder. Your body rocked against his, grinding him lightly as his hands moved down to your ass, squeezing it. You couldn’t taste the alcohol on his breath. His lips would make you drunk without it. You needed him all around you. You needed to know what he felt like inside of you.

You were frantic, grabbing at each other like it was the last time, instead of the first time. He leaned his body up so that you were both sitting. His lips worked their way down your neck. Your body felt like electricity everywhere he touched you.

You unbuttoned his shirt agonizingly slow. Jaemin’s dark eyes were ravenous as you made your way carefully down to each button. He pushed your hands away as you got to the last one and ripped it from his body. Your fingers curled around his belt and yanked it away from him.

A sound escaped from his mouth that you could only explain as crazed. He wasn’t intoxicated anymore, but he looked like a man whose self-control had vanished. Holding you tightly, he flipped you over so that he was on top, his body fitting against yours like a glove. His weight felt good on top of you, almost scandalous. You could feel every muscle of his against you, every soft spot resting against your stomach when he breathed. You could feel his cock, could feel the hunger burning inside of you with the thought of him fucking you.

Jaemin stopped only momentarily to get a good look at you from above. A smile broke out onto his face, as his eyes covered every inch of your skin.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” he said.

He slid your panties down your legs, brought your t-shirt over your head, and let his hands feel you. When he slipped a finger inside of you, you arched your back, and your breasts met his mouth. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. You swayed your body into his fingers, letting his thumb brush against your clit.

The lazy smile didn’t leave his lips. Every time your body moved, he went with it, leaving a trail of kisses behind. He wouldn’t let you come. Every time you got closer and closer, he would stop and watch how you squirmed beneath him.

You wrapped your legs around his waist to tell him that you were ready. You couldn’t wait any longer. He kissed you softly on the lips, reeled back and let his cock enter you. You exhaled as he moved inside of you, his body meeting yours, and his hands holding you down. You reached out for him, and he lowered himself so that you could dig your nails into the flesh of his back. A moan escaped from his lips as you brought those fingers to his neck. You let them tangle in his hair and pulled his strands until his moans turned low and gravelly. You could feel the pace picking up.

Jaemin couldn’t control himself any more. He wanted all of you, every last drop. You pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him. As you lowered yourself down onto his cock, he whispered, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

#jaemin #na jaemin #nct #nct dream #na jaemin smut #na jaemin angst #jaemin smut #jaemin fluff #jaemin fanfiction #jaemin oneshot #na jaemin oneshot #jaemin nct #nct jaemin #nct dream jaemin #oof please forgive typos #i wrote this really fast and kept getting words mixed up slkdjfks

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pascalpanic · 3 years

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‘Nilla Bean (Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x gn!Reader)

Summary: A cowboy in your coffee shop is not the way you’d expected your morning to go, but you’re not complaining; especially not when he’s as attractive as he is.

W/C: 2.1k

Warnings: talk of food/eating, brief allusions to alcohol, lots of flirting, sexual innuendos, I think there’s like a single use of fuck

A/N: okay I’ve been thinking about this FOREVER but I finally went ahead and wrote it!!! hope u guys like it, I’m a sucker for a coffee shop AU as a barista myself :) thx @theteddylupinexperience for helping me name it and motivating me to write it lol

When you started your shift this morning, you’d groaned as you tied the apron around your waist, expecting an uneventful day. Most were. If you were lucky enough to see someone you knew or to have an especially nice customer, you’d consider it a good day. You didn’t know when you walked in that it would be the good day to end all good days: nothing could top this one.

Weekday mornings in the fall aren’t particularly busy. The majority of your customers come around the morning rush, and the remaining ones are usually retirees or house-spouses and their young children. It’s enjoyable, days like these, that don’t require you to dash about the shop.

The only problem, really, is having nothing to do. You clean the coffee grinder, wipe down tables, wipe down everything else, then do it all again. Restocking, usually an endless chore, isn’t even an option; no one’s using anything in the first place. You and your coworkers chat, deep-cleaning the coolers, washing the blender stations, and doing the dirty work. When a customer comes, you’re the lucky one who gets to go take their order and put your task on hold first.

It seems like you’ve done every task twice, even when your manager introduces yet another idea for you to deal with. To bide your time, you prep coffee for later, rearrange the case of pretty little pastries that sits next to your register, and doodle on your station with a paint pen, humming to the soft music playing in the shop.

People come and go, some picking up mobile orders and some ordering from you, some choosing to eat inside and some taking their food to go. You sip your drink happily between customers- a white mocha with caramel.

At one point, you’re in the back and washing dishes when a coworker peeks his head into the back. “Hey, you got someone up front!” He informs you, and you nod and wander out through the swinging doors.

Well. That’s certainly a sight for a Tuesday morning.

The man standing at the register is wearing a painfully well-tailored suit jacket, with gray tweed and patches on the elbows. Beneath it is a white top and a black tie, and the man wears jeans on the bottom half. Interesting.

Perhaps more interesting is the large cowboy hat perched atop his head. The man’s face, below the brim of his Stetson, is incredibly handsome. He has an aquiline nose, a neatly trimmed mustache that wouldn’t work on anyone else, and warm brown eyes that make you smile softly.

“Hi,” you comment as you log into the register. “Are you a part of our rewards program?” You ask as part of your regular spiel.

The man furrows his brow then shakes his head. “Uh, no. No I’m not. Can you sign me up now?” He asks, and his voice makes your chest flutter with the tone. It’s rich and smooth, with a beautiful southern twang.

Looking at your register and back at him, you shake your head. “It’s just an app on your smartphone, really easy,” you tell him.

“Ah, damn,” he groans and pulls it from his pocket. “I’m shit with technology. Why don’t you just… type it in here?” He says, handing you his phone with a notes page open. His thick fingers accidentally lock the phone as he hands it to you.

You tap the screen to wake it and find the background to be a picture of a cute little pig all covered in mud. “Uh, you locked it,” you chuckle. “What’s the password?”

The man looks down shyly. “1-2-3-4. Don’t make fun’a me, I’m like a grandpa with these newfangled phones.”

It’s endearing, you have to admit, and it makes you giggle. “Not a problem. I’m not here to chide you on your security choices,” you shrug. You type in the code and find the app, starting the download for him before handing back his phone. “Can I get a name to start your order?” You ask as you look up at him.

His eyes hold a warmth there, radiating off of his smile. “Whiskey.”

“Your mother named you Whiskey?” You tease as you type in the name, returning back to the main page of beverages. “Some kind of legal name.”

The man shakes his head. “Nah, that’s just what I go by at work.”

Whiskey likes conversation, you notice, and it makes you chuckle a little. “You got a real name then?” You ask him, raising an eyebrow beneath your visor.

The man tips his hat. “Jack Daniels, at your service.” He says and offers you a hand, which you take and shake.

“That’s a lie. You’re telling me your nickname is Whiskey and your real name is a type of whiskey?”

The man shrugs. “My momma had a real funny sense of humor, I guess. My daddy loved the booze so they went with it. I work for Statesman, so I suppose it’s fitting.”

“Ah, the distillery,” you nod with a smile, not grasping the depth of what Statesman actually does. How could you? “Well then, Jack,” you say with an honest grin on your face. “What can I get you to drink?”

Whiskey, Jack, whatever his name is, looks up at the menu, scanning the different beverages. “Well. That sure is a lot of choices. I’m new to the area, so I don’t know the menu yet, and I don’t know the first thing about coffee other than how to make it in a machine,” he admits to you. “What would you recommend, sugar?”

Sugar. Your heart beats a million times faster at the man’s words. You’ve had lots of weird and creepy men call you different things, but you’ve never been flustered and enjoyed it. This man is getting to you, quickly. “Well, how strong do you take your coffee?”

He thinks about that for a second, fiddling with the button on his suit jacket. “Pretty strong. A little sweet, with cream. I usually take it Irish style,” he admits with a chuckle, tapping a belt buckle that you realize is a tiny flask. Jesus. That’s not cheesy.

“Well, we don’t serve alcohol,” you laugh and look down at your screen. “We have all kinds of flavors.” You list them all off, off the top of your head, now staring at the ceiling to recite them all. “And our seasonal drink is pumpkin spice.”

The man raises an eyebrow. “Wonderful and all, but what do you like? You seem like you’ve got a good taste, darlin’, tell me what you’d recommend.”

God, these names are going right to where they shouldn’t, especially not when this handsome man is leaning on your counter and flirting with you as he orders his coffee. “I like vanilla.” You shrug.

The man laughs and stands. “I hate to say it, sugar, but I’m not a very vanilla man,” he says, his head tilting down and his dark, sultry eyes peeking out at you from just below the brim. His voice is seductive, implying something else other than the flavor.

Oh fuck. “Oh, not like that,” you laugh as your face floods with warm blood, anxiety coursing through your veins. “Not vanilla in that way.” Fuck, that’s even worse, you think and grip the counter so as to not physically cringe at your words.

“Not like that, huh?” His words are still so seductive and flirtatious it makes you want to combust. Maybe you will, if he keeps this going.

“N-no,” you stammer, looking down at the menu screen again. “I mean, I just think it’s underrated. People dismiss it as boring, but it’s really just as interesting of a flavor as anything else. It tastes really good with our espresso.”

Jack tilts his head to the side, a smirk on his face. His lip pokes out just slightly to wet his lips and you shiver involuntarily, your skin pricking up all across your body. God, you hope he can’t see it. “I’ll trust you on it, ‘nilla bean,” the man drawls and stands up straight again. “Triple espresso with vanilla and cream.”

You nod and ring that in. God, if he keeps going with the nicknames, you’re going to melt into a puddle here and now.

“What are these?” He asks as his fingers trace over the drawings on the counter, lifting them and finding the pink and green powder of the dried paint has transferred to his fingertips.

God, he makes you nervous, but in a good way. In the best way possible, a way that makes you want to knock that cowboy hat off his head and find out if his lips are as soft as they look. “I draw when I’m bored. It’s been a slow day,” you chuckle as your own fingers trace the crawling vines and flowers you’d painted there. “Sorry about the transfer,” you chuckle and your fingertips brush his, making you involuntarily shudder again at the contact. His fingertips are calloused and radiate warmth. “Uh, can I get you anything to eat?” You ask and gesture at the bakery case.

The man inspects it for a moment, looking at the various foods lined up under the soft white light. “I’ll take one’a these,” he says and pokes a finger towards the chocolate chip cookies through the glass. You nod and take one out for him, putting it in a little paper sleeve and handing it over. “How much is this gonna hurt my wallet?” He asks, pulling it out from the back pocket of his jeans.

“Give me one second.” You type in your code for your employee discount, which takes a moment.

“What’re you typin’ there, ‘nilla bean?” He asks, brow furrowing.

Looking up at him, you push your visor up your face and smile a little. “Oh, I’m giving you my employee discount. It’s ridiculously priced here.”

Jack frowns. “You don’t have to do that for me, sugar. I’m just a regular ol’ customer.”

It’s your chance, you realize, to say something or stay silent forever. “Well, I like you,” you admit and take the credit card he hands you, swiping it through the machine. “And I’m hoping you’ll at least become a regular. I’d like to see you more,” you tell him with a grin.

The man’s face lights up, even beneath the shadow of his brim. “I’d like that too,” he nods and pockets his card when you hand it back.

A beat of silence passes as the two of you smile at each other, both of you lovestruck immediately. “Uh, your drink will be right up over there,” you say and nod to the other end of the café. “Are you going to drink that here or take it to go?” You ask.

“Oh, here,” he nods.

“Perfect,” you say with a small smile. “Then I’ll just bring it to you when it’s ready. Nothing better to do today,” you shrug and wander down to the other end before Jack, Whiskey, whatever can refute you.

You take the cup from your coworker, humming to yourself as you put some vanilla and cream in the cup, pulling the espresso shots. When it’s ready, it barely reaches the halfway mark of the small cup, so you top it with a little whipped cream. You suspect the man has more of a sweet tooth than he lets on.

Pocketing a pink paint marker, you put a lid on the drink and walk out to the dining room, setting the coffee down across from him. He’s munching on the cookie he’d ordered, looking up at you with unintentional puppy dog eyes. “Hey there.”

“Hi,” you smile and pull out the chair across from him, sitting down and pulling out the paint pen. “I put a little extra whipped cream on top. I thought it would go well with the espresso, make it a little creamier or something.”

As you uncap the paint pen, Jack’s brow furrows as he watches you. “Whatcha doing there?” He asks as you bring his cup closer to yourself and write something on the top.

“Being brave,” you chuckle and cap the pen, sliding it back. “I gotta head back. Enjoy it,” you say as you stand and pat him on the shoulder.

Only as you walk back to the register does Whiskey comprehend exactly what you put on the top of his cup. It’s your phone number, in that chalky pink paint, and a smiley face beneath it.

Jack may not be great with technology, like he told you, but he immediately pulls out his phone and takes a photo. Then he enters the number into a contact, filling out the name: ‘Nilla Bean.

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sneezefiction · 3 years

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of night owls & early birds

Kuroo x Reader

desc: Kuroo, your roommate and longtime best friend, likes you but he really dislikes your sleep schedule. alternatively, your crush gets up way too early and you “suffer the consequences.”

a/n: the irony of working on this fic at 5 am doesn’t escape me… but it also hasn’t assuaged my awful sleep patterns. i hope you enjoy!!

warnings: school/general anxiety, crass/offbeat humor (jokes about planning your own funeral), idk if you’re scared of love don’t read this - it’s very fluffy.

wc: 3.6k

--- You’re screwed, you think, as a light flickers on just outside of your room. It illuminates the carpet underneath your doorway with a warm orange tint.

And though it shouldn’t make your heart jump into your throat, it does.

You’d promised, swore to Kuroo, that you’d be asleep by 2 am - and to him, even that was a stretch. But he should count himself lucky that you’d even agreed to his demands at all.

After all, he is well-versed in the world of night owls.

Kenma, though maybe not your kindred spirit, shares at least a couple of qualities with you. Kuroo likes refer to these “qualities” as crimes.

One of these crimes (and quite possibly Kuroo’s least favorite) is your god-awful sleep schedule. And you’re a repeated offender.

There was only so much nagging and bickering you could take before you’d cracked and told exactly him what he wanted to hear. In a flurry of words, you’d agreed to turn off your laptop, close up your textbooks and actually put your head to a pillow.

You also may have been bribed.

To sweeten this deal, Kuroo had promised to buy you pizza this upcoming Friday, given that you actually did get some rest.

But as you reluctantly lift your phone, the glass screen glowing a little too brightly, you realize that it’s already 5:30 am.

You grimace.

It’s Tuesday morning. Meaning that the repetitive beeping across the hall is Kuroo’s alarm.

Your lips press into a firm line. Most birds don’t even get up at such a godless hour.

You can’t help but wonder what it’s like to have a functional morning routine. Or a morning routine at all.

Leaning back in your plastic desk chair, you squeeze your eyes shut.

It stings.

You probably got so caught up staring at the blob-like words on your computer screen that, somewhere in the process, your body had forgotten how to blink.

And while the tension in your neck and shoulders is painful, it’s nothing in comparison to the festering guilt of not listening to your longtime best friend and now roommate (a suspiciously well-intentioned college boy who had somehow managed to win your heart over the course of this fall semester.)

Thinking back, working on your final English assignment at midnight wasn’t the brightest of ideas. It wasn’t even due for another week. But as due dates loomed, the impending fear of a bad grade had begun to burrow deeply within you.

If you could just pump the brakes on deadline anxiety, you wouldn’t feel so pressured to type incoherent sentences at odd and empty hours of the night.

And maybe Kuroo wouldn’t feel the need to coerce you into a firmer sleep schedule. Though you do find this caring habit of his to be inexplicably endearing.

Thus, the prickling feeling continues to infiltrate your restless mind and the brewing concoction of anxiety and guilt in your tummy makes you feel uneasy.

But before you can sneak into bed and tuck yourself inconspicuously under the covers, you hear a floorboard creak.

As if on instinct, you hold in a breath.

Kuroo isn’t one to forget about little promises. Of course, he’d want to know if you’d made good on your side of the deal.

Gently, you close your laptop and swivel your chair to face the door. You still your movements, keeping your body taut against the back of your chair.

More soft steps fall just outside of your room.

Your eyes can’t pick a place to land, so they choose to wander. And with a quick scan of your room, it doesn’t take you long to realize that your bedside lamp had been left on - an instant giveaway.

You begin planning for your funeral.

However, if it were up to you, you wouldn’t go out this way. You prepare yourself for death by interrogation or shame-induced coma.

Regrettably, neither options seem very interesting to you. If you ask politely, maybe your friends will engrave a portion of an epic poem into your gravestone just to make your passing seem more sophisticated. Yeah, that sounds nice and pretentious.

Okay, you might be overdramatizing things - Kuroo would never send you to your grave. But that doesn’t change the fact that your psyche likes to play tricks on you in the wee hours of the morning and that the eerie quality of the atmosphere somehow reminds you of a cemetery.

As you sort through who-gets-what on your will, there’s a not so sudden knock on your door. The soft tap makes your heart skip for two reasons:

The first being that you still haven’t gotten used to the fluttering in your chest from him being present all the time. Developing a crush on him (and suspecting feeling on his side) had made you a little jumpier over the past few months.

And the second had to do with the fact that you were actually going to have to talk to him about this. To apologize for being a bold-faced liar. It wasn’t clear to you whether you’d be teased or reprimanded. And honestly? You’re not sure which option would feel worse.

So you take a breath and steel yourself.

“Y/n?” A gravelly voice sounds from outside your room.

It’s tainted with sleep. You shiver.

There’s a preemptive sigh, “C’mon y/n, your light is on. I know you’re awake.”

You’ve been caught, so there’s no point in prolonging it.

“...You can come in.” You reply meekly, clenching and unclenching your fists.

The door cracks open.

That soft orange hall light floods into your room and directly into your eyes. With a squint, you try to fully visualize Kuroo. He’s positioned himself so that he’s leaning in your doorway with his arms crossed.

Before coming to grips with the situation, you scan the boy up and down. Amusingly, you realize that he has to duck his head just to fit underneath the door header - he really is tall. You have to wonder if he’ll ever stop growing.

Aside from his intensified bedhead (which doesn’t shock you) and the sleepiness in his eyes, he looks normal. But you must look positively spooked, because the moment he sees you, there’s a flicker of humor in his golden eyes… and an almost invisible smirk.

At least he isn’t angry. That fact alone allows you to let out the breath you’ve been holding in. Anger isn’t really a trait you’d ascribe to him anyway.

“It’s funny…” He wonders aloud, “I thought we’d agreed to something yesterday.” Kuroo brings a mocking hand to his chin in a thinking motion.

Your body naturally begins to shrink into your seat. You want to sigh, protest, explain yourself… anything to keep him from lecturing you. But, technically, you deserve this.

“I’m pretty sure you promised me you’d be in bed, asleep,” He emphasizes “by 2 am…”

“And” he adds, motioning evenly to your set up, “I highly doubt you’re up early just to get work done.”

You bite your lip while gripping and releasing the fabric of your sweatpants.

Kuroo isn’t a mind reader by any extent, but the body has a language of its own. Right now, your actions are murmuring signs of discomfort. And exhaustion, according to your dark circles.

Kuroo heaves out something between a sigh and a yawn before he takes another couple of steps into your room.

The sound of mattress springs and rustled bed sheets gets you to turn your head toward him, though you hesitate to meet his gaze.

He makes himself comfortable.

This is a familiar scene, Kuroo invading your space. Well, it’s less of an invasion and more of an unspoken agreement that the both of you can ‘come and go as you please’ in regards to bedrooms, granted that the “invader” knocks first.

Essentially, if Kuroo wanted company, he would find his way to you and plop himself on the edge of your bed. You would do likewise. The interaction could last 5 minutes or 3 hours depending on your mental stamina that day.

In a way, it mimicked your childhood - going over to Kenma’s and knocking relentlessly on his bedroom door until he finally let you and Kuroo tumble through the doorway together. The only difference now is in the way that you spend time together. Conversations become deeper a lot faster. Belly-laughs after a miserable day of classes are considered sacred. Study sessions are done shoulder to shoulder and with a myriad of disgusted faces when frustrated with a particularly tricky problem.

But this is different from your usual conversations. It’s sickeningly early, you haven’t slept a wink, and a tidal wave of stress from this entire semester is finally crashing into you.

“I’m sorry,” You start softly, fiddling with your fingers, “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about this expository essay I’ve been working on and my mind is totally numb. I’m so stressed out by all of these-”

“-Classes.” He finishes for you.

You swallow, bobbing your head softly in confirmation.

“I get it.”

And just by looking at him, you know he understands. For someone so laid back and put together, Kuroo’s eyes could speak a novel’s worth of emotion and information at any given moment.

“But you’ve already spent more than enough time on it.”

Have I really? Have I actually done enough? Because it feels like I’m failing. Like I can’t seem to finish what I’ve started. I can’t even complete this paper.

But at least Kuroo sounds resolute.

He’s stating a fact, not an opinion.

And he’s not trying to be unempathetic. He does get it, he really does.

But Kuroo also sees how hard you work already. And he knows all too well that there’s only so much work you can get done in one night. You’ve got enough on your plate even without your classes, so having the extra academic pressure is just the cherry on top.

“Mm,” you hum, “yeah, I guess you of all people would know.” You hunch over and rest your elbows on your thighs, using your hands to prop your head up.

He’d been there at your most and least productive moments. On days when you were cranking out a few thousand words and nights when you could only jot down a few sentences. Hell, Kuroo had even volunteered to help you edit and format it when the time came. What kind of person offers to do that before they’ve even been asked to?

It’s just another feature of his charm, you suppose.

But you still feel stuck. Like you’re a boat stranded in the middle of the ocean and you just can’t seem the muster up the strength to pull up the anchor. The anxiety lingers.

“...It just doesn’t feel like it’s ever enough, y’know?” You breathe out.

There it is. Finally out in the open.

And Kuroo hums thoughtfully to himself.

He’s been there.

Not knowing if the effort he put into his work was having any actual effect. Being unsure as to when he should stop taking responsibility for something. Putting work, classes, and people before himself.

It’s draining; a swirling spin-cycle of exhaustion.

But he’s also been learning that “enough” is subjective. So he decides to say just that.

“Enough is a pretty vague word, don’t you think?”

You blink.

Yeah, you suppose it is.

Hopefully this isn’t another one of his bizarre epiphanies - the kind that makes you think your brain is going to implode. Sometimes Kuroo could be a little too philosophical for his and your own good. But you humor him anyway.

Shifting in your seat, you give him a stiff nod.

Satisfied with your understanding, he proceeds with his thought.

“What I mean is that we probably have totally different definitions of enough...” he drawls on, “... and different standards too.”

“Okay...”

“What I mean is that-” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, “-what’s ‘enough’ to you may not be ‘enough’ to me. And vice versa.”

Kuroo tilts his head back, brows furrowing in thought. He’s grasping for the right way to put it.

“Y/n, I think you’ve done enough. You’ve worked hard,” he points out, “and I don’t think I know anyone who deserves a break more than you do.”

That makes you pause. You lift your head up to catch his gaze - his eyes are already studying your expression. Something inside of you stops functioning because never have you seen such raw sincerity. Or maybe you have, but you’re only just now noticing it.

He gives you a gentle smile. It makes your chest ache.

“You mean it?” You half-whisper.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

You’ve known this for years now, but Kuroo truly has a way with words. They had the ability to pierce like a harpoon or stick sweetly to you like warm honey. Even with a few (thousand) shitty jokes littered throughout your conversations, it’s only natural to be awestruck by him. By his ability to make even the most awkward of situations a little more bearable. How he subliminally knows how to soothe and temper you. You think he would make a really great businessman - he’s quite persuasive; a real salesperson.

One part of you wants to apologize to him again. Another part wants to jump up and kiss him. To tear up and cry in his arms with relief. You chalk these potential reactions up to exhaustion and hormones… but you don’t write them off entirely.

Because suddenly being 3 feet apart feels like miles. And your bed is looking terribly comfortable.

“Mind if I join you?” You ask, but you’re already moving from your seat.

He gives you an indifferent shrug - though he feels anything but.

“It’s your bed.”

Oh, you’re well aware of that fact. You can already feel heat rising to your face.

You stand up slowly, raising your arms to the ceiling in one final attempt to stretch. Then softly, you place a knee to the mattress and wedge yourself on the rest of the way until you’re sitting crisscrossed in front of him. He shifts his torso so that it’s facing you.

And now that you’re finally eye to eye, you can breathe.

He may be your crush, but you feel strangely comfortable in his presence. You always have. It’s part of what makes Kuroo... well, Kuroo. He embodies security while still pushing you out of your comfort zone. And for that, you’re grateful.

You break the silence.

“I really am sorry,” you echo your earlier apology.

You undoubtedly are. And you’re not sure why it feels like such a heavy thing to say over something as menial as a good night’s sleep.

“Hey, hey,” He soothes, reaching a hand over to ruffle your hair, “it’s no big deal, alright?”

You send him a half-hearted glare but it immediately breaks into a soft smile. His hand lingers for a moment longer than it should before he draws it away. You miss the teasing touch.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to maintain eye-contact, but even as you look away, you note that his eyes remain concentrated on you. You can’t tell if it’s you who has moved closer or if he has. Either way, those few inches of distance have narrowed by a decent margin.

“I honestly just wanted you to get some rest. You’ve had it rough and by the looks of it-” He scans your face like he’s trying to diagnose you with something.

“Hey, watch it-” You warn, narrowing your eyes.

You already know you look tired. Kuroo loves reminding you of that in his own little way.

He smirks playfully, continuing anyway.

“-You could really use the sleep.” Kuroo’s raspy voice trails off.

“But apparently even pizza isn’t a convincing enough strategy.” He gives you a lopsided grin.

You shake your head, “Oh no, no, the pizza was very convincing.”

He scoffs, “Was it, now?” Raising his eyebrows in mock surprise, “Because you seem very awake to me.”

“Can’t we just blame this on the paper, please?” You sigh.

He furrows his brows in contemplation, “Hmm, no. I don’t think so. This is partially your fault.” A rather underwhelming response.

“A small part.”

“I’d say it's fifty-fifty.” He reasons with a raised eyebrow.

Rolling your eyes, you respond, “Okay, you can quit whatever-” You gesture to his expression, “this is.” He always managed to pull the strangest faces and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you laugh.

He snorts, “Oh? I thought you liked-” Kuroo gestures to his own face, “whatever this is.”

His voice has a curious edge to it. Some might even call it flirtatious.

And you go quiet.

You can’t help but stare at him. His messy hair, his barely parted lips. The fact that Kuroo just woken up and somehow still looks this attractive to you is so annoying. So frustrating.

And words are failing you.

It was an innocent comment. He’s just messing with you like he usually does. Maybe this has all gone a little bit too far. You should probably just say good night (or good morning) and rest your eyes.

Yet you can’t shake the feeling that this could be the perfect segway into addressing your relationship.

At literally any other time of day, you might be more rational. You could reason with yourself that this is quite literally the weirdest time to bring up your feelings for him. But something in you needs to close the literal and figurative gap between you two. And, for some indecipherable reason, it has to happen right now.

Whatever the outcome, you trust that Kuroo will always be your safe place.

So you throw caution to the wind.

“Actually, Kuroo…” You begin, staring at your hands which are placed neatly on your lap. “I really do.”

His eyes snap to yours.

This time it’s Kuroo’s turn to go silent in contemplation. Taking in a steady breath becomes an act of labor.

“You… really do what?” He asks slowly, grasping for your intended meaning.

Your heart pounds.

“I really like you.” You clarify.

It isn’t at all eloquent, but it’s sincere. You’d once heard that honesty came easier late at night, but you had no idea that it applied to early mornings as well.

But you finally make sense of the words that just escaped your lips. Panic arises. In an attempt to hide, you bury your face in your hands. You wish you could put the words right back into your mouth.

“I-” You take a deep breath, “I think I spoke without thinking.” Is all you allow yourself to mumble.

You no longer trust yourself with words.

Your face, your whole body really, feels like it’s on fire. Humiliation begins to wash over you in red hot waves… but you startle when a pair of hands meet your wrists.

You lift your head.

His fingertips are warm and worn. Still decorated with calluses from his years of volleyball back in high school. You want to question why the world has withheld this touch from you for so long.

He lures your hands away from your face, grasping both of them gently. For a sensation so new, it was somehow strikingly familiar. A thumb is meditatively tracing small, slow circles in the middle of your palm.

You gawk in disbelief… and as you scan his face, you catch a hint of pink on his cheeks. You can’t say anything though - your own face feels like it’s just become 1000 degrees warmer.

“I kinda figured you might,” Kuroo breaks the tension rather… bluntly.

Of course he did, wait what?

“But the thing is…”

Is this some sort of rejection? Is he just letting you down gently? Is that why he’s holding your hands like they’re as fragile as fine china? Then why is he looking at you so sweetly, so tenderly-

“I wanted to be the one to say it first.”

You start planning your own funeral again.

However, this time, emotional whiplash will be your stated cause of death. At least it’s a more unconventional way to go out.

“I- uh,” you swallow, “w- what did you just say?” It comes out as a stammer.

You’re squeezing his hands a little too tightly. When you recognize your modest death grip around his fingers you loosen your hold.

Kuroo smiles, his eyes crinkling slightly.

It’s nothing like that cunning smirk that you find annoying, yet so adorable. It’s also not one of his full-scale grins. It’s far too simple and reassuring. You almost don’t trust it.

“Well, in short, I like you too,” He re-explains, searching your face for a reaction, “but... I’d hoped to tell you that over pizza on Friday.” Kuroo looks away.

If you weren’t already gaping over his personal confession, you would probably be laughing at this new side of Kuroo. He looks unmistakably bashful.

It takes you a second to recover, but you finally open your mouth to respond...

But you’re cut off by Kuroo, once again. His softened expression is long gone. And, much to your dismay, he’s suddenly shifting himself off of your bed.

“It’s just too bad you didn’t keep up your end of the bargain. I guess that means there’ll be no pizza… no movie… no me.” He slowly releases your hands, knitting his brows together to feign sorrow - it looks hilariously forced, but you’re too worried about the warmth leaving your fingertips to care.

He’s teasing you like you’re his best friend.

And that’s because you are.

So then why does it feel like something’s changed? Like he’s daring you to make the next move?

Before he can pull away and leave, you tug at his hand which draws his whole body toward you.

Your heartrate spikes through the roof. When’s the last time you’ve been this close to someone? To a guy? A guy who’s shown actual living, breathing interest in you.

And he’s in your face.

Close enough that his scent, his cologne, is drowning your senses. Close enough that his breath is fanning faintly against your cheek. Close enough that you know there’s only one thing left for you to do.

Before you can think to hesitate, your lips are brushing up against his.

Intuitively, he brings his hands to your face, closing any extra distance.

Kuroo’s thumb feathers over your cheekbone, stroking it tenderly. His lips apply very little pressure and it’s unbearably delicate, but it fills you with an indescribable warmth. His lips linger just long enough for you to detect the mint from his toothpaste - he can probably taste the cinnamon tea you’ve been sipping on over the past hour. As far as kisses go, it’s reserved, but perfect for this distinct moment.

Plus, you figure, this is just the first of many longer, more eager kisses - though you can’t imagine being more breathless than you already are right now.

But you can hardly get another taste of him before those warm hands on your cheeks are prying you away. He stares. You stare back. His eyes are brimming with something warm and full. You immediately choose to label it, “affection.”

And in a much lower voice, Kuroo murmurs, “Let’s save this for later.”

You scan his face, wondering if he’s actually serious. He gradually makes his way off of the bed and onto his feet and before you can protest, Kuroo is speaking again.

“You-”

He leans down and gingerly lifts your chin with his fingers. The gentleness of his touch almost makes you flinch, but you somehow manage to hold it in the road. Though now you’re really at a loss for words.

“-need to get some good rest.”

He places a chaste kiss on your forehead.

You still feel it after he pulls away. After he closes the door. After you’ve laid you head down on your pillow in shock.

How does he expect you to fall asleep after all of that?

---

extra: this is dedicated to Izzy - our sleep schedules may be jacked up, but i’m pretty sure it’s a blessing in disguise if we’re taking our time zones into consideration. thanks for making me laugh & for not stealing my quarter of the braincell.

and to my precious friends and followers - thank you for being patient with me. it’s hard to post or even write at the moment, but i’m steadily pushing myself toward a better mindset. i appreciate your comments, likes, and the fact that y'all even bother to check out my works in the first place. i’m working on it.

also happy birthday, Tetsu. you’re a real star.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 14- New World Order

Summary: With the world back to it’s usual business, and the Avenger’s base on a long road to recovery. You and Bucky begin a new chapter in Brooklyn, New York City.

Warning: just fluff really, and some spicy talk maybe a little suggestive themes if you will

Masterlist

It’s been about three months since the events leading up to the dusting of Thanos’ whole army and the death of that giant purple bastard. Ninety-one days since Tony Starks funeral, and 2184 hours since your entire world changed for the better.

Although you’d be a sore liar if you said you didn’t miss your old life with everyone at the Avengers Facility. Even with such a dramatic new change to your life now, you miss Natasha, you miss your late night talks with Steve, and maybe you even miss that little shithead raccoon. But there has been an emerging inner peace with what you gained that just about outweighs your heavy losses.

Someone who’s brought you unconditional love and understanding in your blooming state, someone who’s helped to draw your grief and anguish out of your vessel and transform it into something golden and pure. Your sweet Bucky. If someone last year was to claim at this time you’d be living in an apartment in New York with the love of your life. Well, you’d probably have swiftly made them regret it.

But now, things are better, not one hundred percent fantastic and awesome. But so much better then yourself an entire year ago could ever have even imagined. And that’s good enough for you.

Staring intently down at your little houseplant, you gently spray it with a spray bottle before standing back to admire your caretaking skills. Not too bad. Not too bad at all. Face shifting to that of a stern army general, you get down real close to the leaves so that your face is mere inches from the soaked plant, “I hope you drink this up okay? Bucky thinks I’m gonna kill you and I’m not losing that bet to him. No sir, so don’t you die on me.” The tiny fern keeps silent for obvious reasons at your little pep talk, it’s green leaves protruding beautifully outward as you set the spray bottle onto the countertop.

“He’s gonna owe me fifty dollars if you last till October, and I don’t even care about the money. I just want bragging rights.” You whisper before standing up and wandering over to the living room window.

The city lights are glowing vibrantly in the nights atmosphere, cars and people alike traveling down below your apartment building, oblivious to the whereabouts of two Avengers a couple stories above their very heads. Two ex-assissins. Both products of Hydra. Damn you’ve got a loaded history.

“Y/N! Are you coming!” There’s a long pause of silence from your bedroom that causes you to open your mouth to answer, but before you’re able to say anything in reply, Bucky yells out, “Also I can’t find my white t-shirt, do you know where it is?! Actually never mind I’m going shirtless!”

You let out a humored snort before swiftly turning on your heel and walking down the hallway until you finally reach your bedroom door, “You know we have neighbors right?”

Bucky sends you a shy smile as he disappears into the bathroom for something, “I’m sure this place has thick walls.” He says while flipping up the ceramic toilet seat.

“Uh huh.” You mutter unconvinced, deciding to search his drawers for a spare sleeping shirt.

Noticing your snooping, Bucky finishes up before flushing the toilet and wandering out the door until he’s practically leaning against your shoulder, “Don’t you have clothes?” Questions Bucky with a small chuckle as you throw him a look.

“I need ones to sleep in.” You casually protest as he slowly nods, clearly not getting your admittedly vague point.

“Don’t you have one to sleep in?”

Picking out a grey shirt of his, you shut the dresser before taking off yours, “All my shit got destroyed when Thanos blew up the base. So I’m limited with the stuff I did buy.” He watches as you unintentionally flash him before pulling on his sleep shirt, “And I’m not exactly eager to be out and about right now. I’m still getting used to the new amount of people on this planet. Also I don’t like shopping......or people.”

Bucky nods in understanding as he follows you to the bed, though he can’t quit suppress his chuckles, “Okay fine.”

Throwing the blanket back, you raise a brow at him for that humored yet blunt remark, “Did you not want me to take this one?” You ask, speaking like you’re talking to a little puppy just to tease him more.

Rolling his beautiful blues, Bucky gets into bed as you do the same, “No. Its fine, I don’t actually care.”

Chuckling, you move to sit next to him as he lays on his back, “Good. Cause you’re shirtless and I think I like you better that way. Means I can tickle you easier.”

“Don’t you dare tickle me Y/N or I will lock you out of the bathroom again I swear.” Warns Bucky as he quickly pulls the blanket over his muscular body while you start laughing at him.

“I wasn’t gonna do that. No....definitely not.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Huh well, guess you won’t be able to cuddle me then if you don’t trust me...” Throwing the blanket off of him, Bucky quickly engulfs you into his strong arms as you squeak with surprise, pulling you down so that he can be the big spoon for tonight.

“Now you’re trapped.” Mumbles Bucky against your shoulder as his chest pushes at your back when he laughs. He thinks he’s so funny.

Holding his arm that’s pressed against your body, you gently pat it as he hums in content, “Buck, I’m thoroughly enjoying this actually so just keep your arm there, even if it falls asleep you’re not allowed to move it sucker. That’s the rules.”

“Well maybe I like those rules. Sucker.” Chuckles Bucky as you bite your lip to keep from laughing. “Now go to sleep, it’s been a long week.”

“Fine.” You mumble into the darkness as a yawn hits you right after. Soon your breaths become steady and calm as you both lay there for another thirty minutes. You are tired, it’s just, something keeps you awake that just can’t be satisfied if you keep going on like this.

“Hey.” You whisper, he gives a low hum in reply, “Buck, I forgot to tell you I have a cat.”

Opening an eye, he gently squeezes your stomach, “You have a cat? Y/N what....how...uh, where is this cat?

“I gave her to Morgan. So I guess she’s technically not mine anymore, I don’t know. Just felt like telling you that.”

“Thanks for sharing.”

“Anytime.”

The both of you go as silent as ghosts before erupting into a fit of giggles, he buries his face into your hair as his sweet laughter bounces off the walls of your room. Though soon enough does the both of your giggles die down to nothing more then the calming sounds of your breathing.

Your mind dwells with a growing fatigue though your body seems to want something else then slumber, sucking in a soft breath, you hum in thought before whispering, “Bucky.” Just to spark his curiosity.

“Yeah.”

“Uh,” Maybe you shouldn’t be asking this and just let him sleep, “how tired are you?” You ask him anyways.

He pauses for a moment before slowly answering with a mumbled, “Tired.”

You hum in acknowledgment, voice low as you answer him, “oh okay.” Immediately sparking his interest.

“Why?” Asks Bucky, intrigued with your slightly disappointed response.

“Nothing, you said you’re tired so we can sleep.”

Bucky’s head rises off of the pillow as he leans over you to try and look at your face, “Well now I wanna know so tell me.” States Bucky in curiosity before catching himself, eyes softer now, “Please.”

Sighing, you purse your lips together, knowing he’s still leaned against your shoulder but deciding to spill anyways as you half-sheepishly whisper, “I’m kinda horny.”

“Kinda?” Chuckles Bucky in an almost teasing manner as you snort.

“Listen you little shithead, I know we did it the other day but I haven’t had sex in five goddamn years give me a break for being a bit horny despite my sleepiness.” You sass, “I’m just, I’ve been feeling a lot of things since you’ve come back. And I yunno, didn’t wanna come off too strong at first so...uh...yeah.”

Bucky hums in thought, “Right, right....yeah.”

Maybe he is too tired? You let out a little huff of slight embarrassment before turning your head to face him better, “It’s just how I’m feeling right now but if you’re too tired that’s really fine with me okay Buc...oh uh...mhmm...” Your worries lost to the wind as his fingers begin slipping underneath your shirt, plush lips pressing feather light kisses against your neck to shut you up from your restless mind. His digits graze over your hardened nibble before Bucky pulls your body flush to his, stubbled chin pressed against your shoulder as he plants a tiny kiss there.

You smile into the darkness when his kisses trail up from from your shoulder to your neck and finally your cheek, he slowly turns you onto your back as his lips plant butterfly kisses all over your face as you begin chuckling at how undeniably adorable he’s being right now. Mhmm hmm you could get used to this.

His arms slip from out of your sleep shirt, soon trapping you to the bed as he hovers over your heavenly vessel, granting you with a plethora of lovely kisses all over your heated skin like he’s exploring you for the first time all over again. Your hands instinctively trail through his shortened dark locks while he draws your legs apart with his muscular torso, doing everything to further spark your growing excitment.

Tonight will indeed be wonderful.

——

Waking up from out of a decently pleasant slumber, you suck in a deep breath to awaken the senses for the day, hands feeling around the rumpled up sheets for your snuggle buddy only to find nothing but an empty bedside. He’s gotten unbelievably good at sneaking out of bed it’s honestly one of the most impressive things he can do.

Your eyes scan the semi-closed window shades to reveal a glowing darkness, it’s only 5:00am, and you know exactly where he’s gone off to even after keeping him up for half the night. Instantly you’ve slipped out of bed, not bothering to turn on the lights as you quietly wander down the hallway until you reach the living room.

Past the small kitchen, and to the left of the single lounge chair, there he is. Snoozing like a meaty log of pure muscle and Vibranium as he lays on a thin blanket flush against the hardware floor. Another blanket covering his lower half as he shifts a bit in his sleep, he’s restless. Your eyes soften at your lover, he’s been doing this recently since Steve left and the world sucked Bucky back into reality. You’ve had plenty of time to adjust of course, but for Bucky, he’s had three months since you two parted from the comfort of Wakanda to live in America as part-time Avengers.

Technically he’s only free from the government and jail time for that matter because he was pardoned by the president and thus was forced to agree upon attending mandated therapy for everything the Winter Soldier did in the past. While you on the other hand were pardoned for war crimes and your involvement with the terrorist organization Hydra because of your status as an Avenger.

Also you’re technically only still allowed to live in the United States because you live with Bucky, who is conveniently from America, so you get a free pass as long as you two plan on residing under the same roof. So it works out for you.

Suddenly his labored breaths quicken and a second later he jolts awake, now drawing himself into a seated position as little beads of sweat shine in the light of the glowing television screen that shows some unimportant sports game.

His chest rises and falls before his blue eyes blink back the vivid fuzziness of his latest nightmare, gaze slowly shifting over to you once he realizes another body is near him. When his irises catch you in the full glow of the tv, he immediately lowers his head in slight embarrassment.

“Did I wake you up again?” Mutters Bucky, almost sounding like he’s mad at himself for letting you find him like this once more.

Shaking your head, you swiftly move to seat yourself at his level before leaning your back against the lounge chair, “You never wake me up Bucky, I think I have a sixth sense for you or something cause when you leave I just know.” You chuckle lightly as he shifts himself closer to you, “Also I miss you next to me.”

His head presses against the corner of the chair as he leans down to leave a light kiss on your shoulder, “I’m sorry. I just.....I don’t want to startle you when I’m having a nightmare and wake up, well, like that.”

Turning to face him, you reach a comforting hand up to gently run it through his shortened dark hair, “You can’t scare me off that easily Barnes. I could probably be classified as the monster under your bed if we’re talking about scary things at night.”

He reveals the ghost of a smile while leaning into your touch, “I know Y/N, it’s just not fair that I do this more then I should. You shouldn’t have to wake up all alone after living like that for five fucking years....I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“oh James..” You whisper while scooting closer so that your bent knees are against his own, hand now snaked down so that you can intertwine your hands with his, “...it’s not your fault the nightmares are coming back. And as much as I miss having you near me, sometimes we all need our space when things get internally rough. I get it, believe me. But don’t ever feel sorry okay? You have nothing to say sorry for, at least not to me alright?”

Bucky nods, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze while he shows the flash of a smile, “Okay.” Whispers Bucky, eyes falling down to your intertwined fingers before he finds your gaze once more, “Let’s go to bed, the sun will be up soon and I have a therapy session today.”

“Therapy is good for you Bucky.”

He rolls his eyes as you laugh at his annoyed expression, “You are my therapy.” Protests your lover before standing and pulling you up with him.

Hugging his torso affectionately, you smirk up at him, “Wrong answer James.” Holding back a genuine grin, he simply leans down to press his lips against yours. Doing his best to shut you up from further mentioning his required therapy sessions that he absolutely loathes to attend.

——

Hands stuffed deep within your jacket pockets, you wander in step with Bucky who brushes his right arm against yours every couple of steps on the cement sidewalk of Brooklyn. You patiently waited the full forty-five minute session for him, knowing all too well that the second he walked out of there and saw your beautiful face. He’d be significantly less grumpy then before, just as you’d suspected.

Turning your head to face him, he keeps looking straight ahead though he’s aware enough to know you’re about to say something about the session, “You didn’t mention the nightmares did you.” Bucky huffs, annoyed at getting so easily caught by your observant intellect about him. You can read him like a book.

“No.” A blunt answer, he knows there’s no point in lying. “She thinks I need to call more people. Be more social or something.....it’s stupid.” He grumbles to himself though your ears catch it all the same.

You hum in agreement, “Well it wouldn’t kill you to call Sam, I know he tries to text you sometimes...”

“Does he text you?”

“Yeah.” You reply before playfully nudging his arm, “And unlike you, I answer. He’s just a concerned friend, which is nice, you need those kind of people.”

“I don’t need anyone but you Y/N. I’m good, really.”

Rolling your eyes, you snort as he throws you a half offended look, “Babe, I love you. But it’s admittedly a good thing to have other friends other then me. I know this from experience as we both know, so, give him a call sometime okay? For me.”

“Ugh, fine.” He begrudgingly mutters, “But only for you, that’s it.” Smiling brightly at him, you’re about to add something else when the sounds of your friend Yori rings loud in the bustle of the city as he argues with his annoyance of a neighbor, Unique. Something about trash and putting it in the wrong bin.

Bucky soon comes to the rescue and quickly puts an end to the argument before Yori decides to throw hands and gets himself in trouble. The stubborn old man gives up on his yelling and soon Bucky is able to convince him to get lunch with the two of you.

To the sushi place you go.

“Nobody made it past 90 this week.” Says Yori sadly as you lean against Bucky’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of the newspaper that he’s holding in one hand while you use your chopsticks to stuff a chunk of sushi in your mouth.

“So young. Such a shame.” Mutters Bucky with a shake of his head while he takes another bite of his meal.

“You guys didn’t order the usual, huh? Feeling a little adventurous?” Smiles Leah as you take a sip of your water, she loves when you three come in during her shift. Honestly she’s heard a lot of your complaining over the last couple weeks, though it’s usually just about some city annoyance since you don’t want to scare her off with all the real shit you’ve dealt with. You’re trying to make friends after all.

You acknowledge her with a raise of your drink before setting it on the glass counter, “Oh yeah, I like to live a little on the wild side..” You add with a laugh, “..unfortunately I tend to drag them along with me.”

Yori nods, “I enjoy the adventure.” Before pointing to Bucky, “It’s him right here who is scared of getting his feet wet.”

Leah laughs at the adorably confused face of Bucky as he sends the old man a look while you snicker in amusement. “Yori.” Warns Bucky without an once of aggression while you give his shoulder a gentle squeeze of affection.

“What?” Protests Yori, “I am right and you know it. Y/N am I not right?”

“Oh, you’re definitely not wrong.” Bucky pouts as you give his stumbled cheek a light peck, eyes set back onto your delicious sushi as he pretends to be annoyed by you and and Yori’s teasing.

The three of you continue to chomp down on your weekly lunch days meal at the usual sushi spot for another minute longer. Yori’s eyes suddenly sparking with a thought that you know he’s absolutely not going to keep to himself.

“You know what?” Whispers Yori as he leans in closer to Bucky, quit obviously pointing a finger towards you though you simply ignore them as he continues, “You better treat your woman well okay? She’s a good one...Ah I have a perfect idea. You go on a date, like dancing or....or, bingo.” Suggests the old man as your smile grows.

Bucky’s brows furrow as he whispers back, “We’re already dating.”

Yori nods, “You misunderstand my point, you must keep the flame going always okay? Very important, very important. When was the last time you gave her flowers huh? Went to the park? Whooed her..”

“I bought her a plant.” Says Bucky defensively as he side eyes you, “I, I whoo her.”

The old man smiles, “Good, good. That’s how you keep them around for a long time. Don’t forget that, I know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m sure you do.” Mumbles Bucky as you suppress the urge to laugh at their adorable conversation about how to treat a significant other right. That significant other being you.

——

Seated crisscrossed on the wooden floor of yours and Bucky’s shared apartment, a single thin blanket underneath you, your eyes squint suspiciously at Bucky like you don’t believe a single thing he’s saying. He’s seated on a pillow across the small coffee table, raising a dark brow at you while he holds back a growing smirk.

Your eyes soon shift down to the board before slowly trailing over his forced stoic face, “Well, Mr. Barnes....you’re a strong captain I’ll admit. But I am a skilled sea traveler of my own. E7.” His blue irises flicker down to his board, expression shifting ever so slightly in irritation, you got him.

Biting his lip, his hands move from behind the plastic board of the game that you can’t see, “How about that.” States Bucky with a genuinely impressed nod, “You sunk my battleship.”

Instantly your hands ball into fists, “Yessss.” You whisper joyously as your eyes squint in happiness for your first ever win against the literal master of Battleship. “Ha ha sucker! I won! I fucking won!” You shout with passion as he leans back on one arm to watch you jump up into a theatrical victory dance. God he loves you so much. You dangerous little goofball.

Swinging your arm dramatically in a circle, you shake your hips before winding down your dramatics to wander on over to Bucky who’s still seated on the floor, shimmering blues never leaving yours. Smirking victoriously, you crouch down to meet his humored gaze, “I think I deserve a prize.....and by prize I mean you get me those gummy worm things from the corner store. I deserve it after all.”

He tilts his head, the corners of his mouth rising as his eyes flicker to your lips for a brief moment, “Do you now?” He smiles lovingly though a sudden mischief sparkles in his eyes.

“Yes. This was the first time I ever won so I definitely deserve some type of reward for my efforts.” You state justly, eyes narrowing as you add, “Or I will battle you, and I’m not talking about the game.”

Bucky tilts his head up, an alluring smile playing at his plush pink lips while his eyes flicker to your mouth once again, oh he is certainly not going to get you naked in an attempt at swaying your mind from those gummies. You’re an ex-assassin who deserves some damn gummies every once in awhile. And his ass is gonna get you them, it’s only fair after all.

“Y/N.” Coos Bucky in that sultry voice of his, metal hand reaching up to touch your beautiful face, but as his fingers come within an inch of your precious skin. You shoot a hand up to clasp against his in an iron grip, blue eyes immediately going big when you tuck and roll. Taking his whole body with you.

In the swift aftermath, you’re able to skillfully pin him to the ground with relative ease. Both your hands pressed firmly against his naked wrists as you lean your face mere inches from his own, “I warned you, didn’t I?” You tease playfully as he breaks out into an inviting grin.

“I have something else in mind that you’ll absolutely love.” Assures Bucky with a telling expression that does nothing to hide the lust that flashes through them.

“In that case, pin me to the floor. And I’m all yours for the evening.” You whisper slyly as he practically shivers underneath your touch, “But if I win, you gotta travel two blocks for those delicious bitches. Khorosho, lyubov' moya?” You add in your native tongue of Russian, translating to “okay, my love” before pressing your forehead against his, eyeing him up like a bull ready to fight.

Bucky lets out a little sigh, something between annoyance and pleasure, “Fine. But you’re going dow...” Your lips crash against his in a hot second of passion before you quickly pull away, letting go of his wrists as you move to stand in a defensive position nearby.

Slowly blinking, he lets out a little huff before pulling himself to his full height, eyes trailing over you as he raises a brow, “Now that wasn’t fair.”

You casually shrug, “What wasn’t fair? We made a deal Barnes.”

Bucky rolls his eyes at your teasing, “You know what I...okay, okay. We’re really doing this?”

You shrug at his adorable expression, “You either have to walk 2 blocks in the dark for my treat, or a night of undeniably fantastic sex is within your reach. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy it, it’s the principle of the thing here. So, I’m going to fight you James Buchanan Barnes.” Oh and you used his full name too, Bucky knows without a doubt, it’s on.

He reveals a little smirk at that, “Guess I don’t have much of a choice. Hmm alright hot stuff let’s do this.” Muses your lover as he draws his hands up into fists, ever so slowly approaching you like a wary predator to their opposing rival. Not so sure if this is going to be a fight he can win or not, well, it sure won’t be an easy one.

When he’s within arms reach, you swiftly duck under his swift jab to your right arm, shooting a leg out to push him away from you while your body twists around to meet him. “Cheap shot.” Mumbles Bucky, calculated gaze studying your every movement as you slowly wander closer to him.

Looking as innocent as ever, “I want some gummy worms, I’ll break you little man.” Accent dripping with every word, further arousing Bucky though he tries to play it off with a laugh and a shake of his head.

Soon the two of you engage in a swiftly heated battle of hand to hand combat showing your admittedly intense skills of what only a former assassin could display so fluidly. Your two bodies moving like seasoned dancers across the hardwood flooring of your apartment, though you’re surprisingly able to keep relatively quiet as he blocks your fists. Can’t disturb those pesky neighbors.

Bucky shifts left just as you narrowly scrape your right elbow against his shoulder with a high jab from your elbows desperate upper cut, you slide on the hardwood under the false presumption that he’s out of reach when his flesh arm swings out to catch you in your stomach with a loud hollow thud. Ouch!

Instantly your throat emits a strange squeak as you feel the air knocked out of your precious lungs, clearly you had not anticipated this turn of events and neither does Bucky who immediately looks like he just accidentally stepped on a puppies little paw. “Y/N!” Worries Bucky with wide eyes as you keep hunched over, trying to suck in some needed oxygen.

Pulling some air into your lungs, you pretend to hobble over to the couch like a beaten down boxer, “Mm hmgood, yep.” You rasp out, resting your upper half on the couch as Bucky quickly approaches your side. But before he’s able to lay a comforting hand onto your shoulder, you swing a decorative pillow right at his head.

The puffy fabric knocks him onto his ass, earning a surprised grunt in the process as you tower above him, smirking like a trickster goddess over a poor lost and lonely traveler. Bucky rubs his reddened cheek, brows furrowed as he whines, “Y/N.” Like a little child who just got something taken from them by another kid.

Smirking a satisfied grin, you kneel down to meet his level, raising up a hand to gently draw his chin upwards to face you better, “That hurt you dickhead.” You muse as Bucky pouts, “ Y/N, I didn’t mean too..”

“I know.” You chuckle, “Now make it better.” You slyly add with a suggestive implication in your tone that causes Bucky to raise a brow. Letting go of his stubbled chin, you seat yourself onto the floor, facing Bucky as he reaches his metal hand out to pull you in closer to him.

Just about shoulder to shoulder with him, he gently presses his Vibranium hand to your cheek before pulling your face closer to his, soon the two of you lock lips with one another as his other hand snakes around to pull you onto him.

Ever so gently do you follow him to the floor as he continues to passionately make out with you like there’s no tomorrow. Metal and flesh hand feeling you up from your breasts to your bum as you straddle your man, hands trailing through his shortened hair while he fully enjoys this new positioning and turn of events.

Bucky presses wet kisses all around your cheeks and lips while he begins nonchalantly unbuttoning your pants, clearly hoping this will continue further and that all thoughts of those delicious gummy worms are out the door. You won’t lie to yourself though, caging Bucky’s thick torso underneath your opened legs is an admittedly pleasant experience to say the least.

So when he snakes his hands up under your shirt and starts messaging your breasts through the fabric of your bra, your mind begins thinking of some other things a bit more important then some simple treat from the local corner store. He knows just how to turn his favorite lover into a pile of puddy with nothing more then his mouth and fingers. This little shithead isn’t even inside you yet, you’re not even naked for goodness sakes!

But alas, a bet is a bet, and you don’t like to lose. Smirking into the kiss, and holding back a moan as Bucky’s digits squeeze your soft breasts, you tug on his hair before pulling away from his pleasantly inviting lips. Earning a palpable pout of confusion from your man, who’s noticeably grown hard against your bum.

“Y/N?”

“Bucky.” You tease back, imitating his voice once again as he throws you a puzzled look, “Don’t give me that shit Barnes I know what you’re trying to do.”

“And what am I trying to do?” Sasses Bucky as he rests his hands onto either side of your hips.

You raise a brow down at him, “These shenanigans.”

Bucky smiles, head falling back onto the floor as he laughs, “That’s not, no I’m not doing any shenanigans I swear....I just, maybe I just want to show my girl how much I love her.” Replies Bucky, though you stay unconvinced.

“We had a deal remember?”

“Yeah well, none of us won so..”

“Oh really?” You challenge, “Then why are you on your back and I’m right here as the victorious one? Who by the way has earned her gummy worms fair and square James Buchanan Barnes.”

Bucky groans, “oh come on Y/N....I can’t go now. Have some pity on me please?”

“And why not?”

He gently gives your hips an affectionate squeeze, “Because, my beautiful she-wolf who I love so very much and cherish every day of my life forever and alw..”

“Get to the point I want those damn gummies.” You threaten with a stern look though he knows you don’t truly mean it of course, but he has successfully annoyed you. “What is the problem this time?”

Bucky throws you a sheepish grin as he takes one of your hands in his, “Because I’m hard.” Sincere and straight to the point.

Pursing your lips together in amused irritation, you remove his hand from your hip, “Well, you did that to yourself babe I can’t help how amazing I am just existing. Really get over yourself.” You playfully tease before standing above him as his eyes never once leave your beautiful face, “Those gummies aren’t going to buy themselves.”

Bucky sighs dramatically shaking his head as he whispers, “You’re a monster of the greatest evil.” Smiling like a lovestruck idiot despite his neutrally spoken words.

You chuckle, stepping over him to pick up a pillow, “That’s me. Now don’t give me a reason to show you my claws.”

He quickly rises to his full height, another fallen pillow in hand as he tries to hide his hardened member behind it like some shitty magic act, “I’m just, I’m gonna hold this pillow for you. Not important why.”

“Uh huh.” You muse as he watches you clean up Battleship, putting all the pieces away and into the particular box before shoving it underneath the couch. When you go to fold the furniture's decorative blanket, a knock is heard at the door.

“Not it.” Mutters Bucky as you throw him an annoyed glance, already aware of who this is by their familiar scent. You walk over to the door and open it as Bucky hides in the background, pillow still covering his tented crotch.

“Hello Mrs. Brego you need help with your windows again?” You speak in Italian to your neighbor from down the hall. The old woman smiles before giving you a little shake of her head indicating a no.

“No dear, just telling you there’s cops downstairs for that guy from Chicago I think, so if you plan on going out. I wouldn’t choose tonight, the whole lobby is filled with people I think he might have been into drugs.” Warns the sweet old woman as you slowly nod, knowing all to well that Bucky most certainly heard everything.

Faking a smile, you shrug, “Wasn’t planning on going out tonight anyways. Well, thanks again. See you when I see you.” She smiles brightly before turning to walk down the hallway and into her own apartment, you watch until she shuts her door just to make sure nothing bad happens on your time.

Feeling comfortable that’s she’s fine, you shut and lock the door, pursing your lips as you turn around to face a smirking Bucky. He’s still holding the pillow against his junk, but he looks incredibly full of himself standing there with that stupidly handsome face of his. Those eyes. That smile. His body......no, focus.

Bucky goes to open his mouth but before he can say something sarcastic you throw a hand up to stop him, “Not a word.” You deadpan before turning to walk down the hallway, stopping yourself to glance over your shoulder, “Give me five minutes and then you can come to bed. But you better be naked or else.”

Bucky snorts as you practically swagger down the short hallway and into your shared bedroom. Closing the door as you prepare yourself for a late night of adventuring each others bodies.

Oh tonight will be something indeed.

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