#in surface level ways and in deep ways that i kind of like ... forgot were part of his story | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pinewoodpipit · 9 months

Text

chocolate chip fade - Fic Meta

chocolate chip fade, i.e. the freckle fic, is finally COMPLETE! As such, I wanted to post some meta about it.

Fair warning, this is a long post (there's a lot to say about this fic).

General thoughts

I LOVED working on this fic. I think the speed of putting it out alone is proof of that... 60k in about 3 weeks, when some of that time was also spend on finishing Bloodwritten Silver and I was dealing with personal shit like severe chronic pain flareups? Insane. idk where it came from. I got possessed, don't mind me.

This fic was a collab between myself and my friend uni, @/unidooty on Twitter and @unidot here! We worked hard and I personally think it came out really nicely.

We made a playlist for this, but I won't be sharing it both for privacy of my spotify account and also just because it's LONG. This fic is huge, ofc the playlist will be, too. We organised it in order of the three "sections" of the fic and it overall is a pretty cool playlist, I think. I don't delete playlists of completed works, so I'll be going back to this one in the future, and I look forward to it. I think it has a lot of re-listening value.

Lastly, here's a detail I really like! How chapter 1 ended vs how chapter 6 ended. I LOVE doing stuff like this.

Chapter specific thoughts

Here are thought dumps relevant to each chapter.

Chapter 1

Neon’s crush in this chapter may seem superficial and surface level - because at this point, it is. She’s early into her feelings and they started as something mostly physical. She learns to approach her affection in a more deep way later on, but at this point in time, she’s incredibly attracted to Fade and is struggling to cope with it.

The food Fade was interested in in the markets was meant to be bánh xèo; pork belly served inside a savoury Vietnamese crepe. Fade doesn’t eat halal (as hinted at in this fic, I hc she grew up in a conservative household but after being abandoned she formed her own beliefs outside of how she was raised) so she eats pork as she feels like it. She has some pretty bad religious trauma and she wanted to decide for herself how she felt rather than sticking to what she was taught by people who were cruel to her. Her beliefs have evolved over time (she still has them, for sure - she still wears nazar eyes etc for example), and she keeps them private. She believes what she believes and doesn’t think it’s anyone else’s business.

Chapter 2

Jett doesn’t know what Fade said to Neon when she confronts her. All she knows is it was bad enough to hurt and upset Neon badly, and she’s reacting in a way she feels is appropriate. That said, Neon doesn’t find it appropriate and instead feels a little like her trust is being violated by Jett risking letting the entire Protocol know something’s up.

Prowler represents a lot of Fade’s inner self, including her emotions. Them cuddling up to Omen signifies her gratitude which she can’t put into words, which Omen understands. Fade finds this embarrassing because she’d prefer to be all cool and mysterious, but Omen appreciates it and finds it sweet. Prowler is a weapon in many cases but between friends, they’re often the best indicator of Fade’s fondness. Prowler is also a little asshole and I fondly refer to them as Miette (from the famous meme). “You WITHHOLD Miette from snuggling their friend? You PULL on Miette’s TAIL? Jail. Jail for mother for one thousand years."

Omen gripped his mug tighter when Fade asked if it was too hot because he didn’t want her to take it away from him. I just thought that was cute.

This chapter was originally supposed to have another scene in the middle, which I forgot while I was working on it. It was supposed to be Neon pulling Killjoy away from her work to try get her to take a break, and they’d dance to the radio together for a bit to let loose. The song I had in mind for this was I Feel Good by Pink Sweat$. Fade would be watching them, kind of having heart eyes, until Neon spots her staring and angrily stops. She makes a comment like “what are YOU looking at” and Fade just quietly apologises. It’s a shame I forgot this scene but to be fair, it would have made an already long fic even longer for not much reason other than self indulgence, since the point of Neon’s seething anger was already addressed.

Chapter 3

Fade suggesting Neon should stay behind as a distraction sounds insulting to her at first, but in fact, Fade made that decision because she knows for a fact that Neon can handle it. She knows she’s powerful enough to hold her own while Fade has directly failed to fight a large group in the past when she was captured by KAY/O in Istanbul, and her time working for REALM meant she knows how to hack. Her giving Neon her gun is a huge signal of trust.

Fade is normally pretty decent at making sure people don��t lay a hand on her, but she was focused hard on the computer with the sounds of Neon’s distraction in the background meaning her focus was pulled in too many directions. She got snuck up on, but as soon as she could get her bearings, she could defend herself fine even riddled with bullets.

Fade’s apology, even if Neon doesn’t necessarily respond to it, was extremely meaningful to her. She appreciates it a lot. There’s a lot going through Neon’s mind, but she’s grateful for Fade admitting that what she said was fucked up, and also not something she truly meant. Meanwhile, Fade has never had someone tell her they value her life over her loyalty. It’s a big change to digest.

Chapter 4

People in this fic: forgetting Fade can’t read between the lines (I have audhd and I project this hard onto Fadeshock - autistic Fade and ADHD Neon, my dearest beloveds) and then being surprised when she misunderstands or doesn’t read into something. Cypher trying to hint Fade should apologise and make it up to Neon and confusing her into thinking she should come out with a big declaration and confess, and now Neon expecting Fade to understand a convoluted song confession… give her a break PLEASE

The hand-holding scene when they first have sex is a mirror to the plane scene when Fade was injured and Neon offered her her hand. I love narrative mirrors.

Chapter 5

I really like lokum. I'll fight all of yall who moan about Edmund getting lokum in Narnia, shit slaps.

This chapter includes a different AU I once planned with Uni about sexting. It was supposed to focus on the contrast between Neon being bad at sexting but good at nudes and Fade being the exact opposite. This is what pushed me to split chapters 5 and 6 apart, and it definitely ended up being stronger for it, because it let me approach these ideas properly. Without this split, chapter 6’s fight and Neon’s death wouldn’t have been properly explored and she’d have just come back upset without much justification.

Chapter 6

Ok MOST of this fic is uni’s fault but this chapter is on me, they’re off the hook. I wanted pegging 💀 we’d talked about it as a meme but I really just ended up wanting to include it in the fic itself and chapter 4 looked like it was going to be quite long with everything included, anyway.

Killjoy’s mother is Turkish, and I think it’d be sweet if she can understand some of it from her. I never really see people talk about her being half Turkish? Kind of wilds me out that Riot were very outspoken about Gekko’s life being unique as an immigrant character when Killjoy (Turkish-German) and Phoenix (Nigerian-British) also have that experience (coming from someone who was an immigrant in Europe for a time, it seems many people forget you can be an immigrant anywhere, not just in the US), but oh well - point is, I wanted to focus on this part of her character a little bit, even if it’s in the background. It was almost a little project she and Raze were working on together; every time they heard Fade call Neon something affectionate, they’d write it down. Raze doesn’t speak Turkish so she’d have to run to find Killjoy and sound it out until Killjoy could guess correctly what Raze had heard. Big “Babe c’mere I heard something gay and we need to decode it” hours. This was kind of foreshadowed in chapter 2 by Killjoy understanding Fade when she was insulting Prowler, but Fade had forgotten about that by this point.

What the hell happened to this fic

SO, I wanna talk about the timeline of this fic for a sec. It originally started out as a cute one-shot idea which was gonna be 1-2k, just Neon realising Fade has freckles. It was supposed to be what became just the first scene of chapter 1. THEN, I showed it to Uni, and they basically said “ok, but what if they FIGHT”. So, it became a 3 chapter story which I estimated to be 5k per chapter. Then, I wrote chapter 1, and I realised that it was 10k, and the other two were going to be longer. Chapter 2 ended up getting split into two (becoming chapters 2 and 3 of the final fic) because it was just so long. So, for a while it was going to be a 40k fic with 4 10k chapters. AND THEN, I realised chapter 4 was also going to be long, and if I split it into two, I’d have more room to breathe, and I’d also be able to add in chapter 5’s smut, which I found really funny since it was Neon’s chance to tease Fade about the hand-holding thing (and maybe let any lingering bitterness for the Vietnam incident out). So, it became a 5 chapter 50k fic. BUT THEN IT STILL WASN’T OVER because while I was working on chapter 5, Uni suggested some more ideas which actually incorporated that separate sexting au collab we had planned and would have been much too fun to ignore… so now it’s 60k and 6 chapters… Oops?

Relevant art

I made some art for this fic! I really enjoyed working on this story. I've been enjoying making art to accompany my fics, like I did with Bloodwritten Silver, so I hope to continue this in the future with my aus.

and of course, the sketch that started it all:

One silly little bonus for you, too; while I was working on chapter 4 and the smut scene, Uni asked at one point which position they were in. At this point it was past midnight and I didn't know what the position was called, so I just doodled something real silly to show it off. I just think it's funny to look at, so here, you can look at it, too :)

best fadeshock art ever made canon

So, what's next?

I have a large queue with lots of ideas I wanna make, but my current big brainrot is of course my COWBOY AU!! I've been posting about this for a while, but it's my next major project. I'll still be writing one-shots though, too.

#freckle fic #pipit writes #fic meta #pipit draws #I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S DONE #valorant #fadeshock #suggestive #own post #fanart #fade valorant #neon valorant

13 notes · View notes

oudkee · 7 months

Text

inazuma eleven ask game

but im not gonna make you send me asks i am just answering all the questions out of boredom. original by @marmolao , post here

1-Favorite season/game/manga.

aliea season (2) my beloved. super nostalgic and definitely the arc i've rewatched the most

2-Favorite og character(s).

kidou yuuto my son. also desarm he's a funky alien. uhhh rococo and kazemaru too

3-Favorite go character(s).

TENMA, shindou used to be my fave but on my rewatch i was like ok he's kind of a dick in galaxy like he really leaned into it. kinako my beloved and most of all ray rukh. robot son. I FORGOT BITWAY okay no bitway is my favourite go character and prolly my fave inazumer of all time. sexy older alien man and probably the precursor of my love for the equally evil alien miss founder from deep space nine.

question 3 was actually missing from the copypasta and so was question 4. i took a wild guess what 3 was but no clue for 4...

5-Favorite areori character(s).

shimerigawa kageru. i have his license in my wallet and ive mistakenly grabbed it instead of my id at bars lmao. heres my ugly anime boy card.

6-Least favorite og character(s).

no one really occurs to me immediately. i used to be really hateful as a teenager i had like a whole list LMAO uhhhhhh i guess the evil mastermind from ffi season. garfield

7-Least favorite go character(s).

the bear

8-Least favorite areori character(s).

kind of like. everyone lmao. no one appealed to me and areori just feels like a soulless cash grab so absolutely none of the characters were even interesting beyond having some like surface level thing that got resolved immediately every time

9-Favorite coach(es).

kageyama. what a fucked up old man

10-Favorite scout character(s).

i never used them in the games lol but i like the designs of like. the machinery/mechanical themed ones

11-Favorite og team(s).

mikage sennou and all five aliea teams but especially epsilon

12-Favorite go team(s).

perfect cascade and ixal fleet........

13-Favorite areori team(s).

none oops sorry

14-Favorite hissatsu technique(s).

stargazer... shoot pocket uhh. god there were actually so many but i just don't remember any of them. i think perfect cascade had like the command ones that were cool but i dont remember im geriatric

15-Favorite hissatsu tactic(s).

REALLY dont remember any of these

16-Favorite keshin(s).

plasma shadow.........

17-Favorite keshin armour(s).

every single one of them slapped. they all looked so good. tenma's and ray rukh's were the best tho

18-Favorite miximax(s).

i dont like them.

19-Favorite soul(s).

bitway's fucked up tentacle monster

20-Favorite character design(s).

WAY too many. with a series with hundreds of characters im bound to be obsessed with a lot of the designs. so i really like all the ixalens from a design standpoint because they're almost... insect like but then they have that vorta paleness that's like okay you definitely came from a planet with a dense atmosphere that doesn't have a lot of natural light. the bird people had really good designs. tenma has that awful early 2010s shonen protag look about him but he's just so cute it works i love the cinnamon roll hair. chrono stone had a lot of random background characters that really slapped like engir and rudzhik it's baffling to me that this was the same season that had those awful mixi max designs. speaking of chrono stone i ALSO like the creepy factor of all the robot boys looking like. essentially the exact same like same height same body same skintone but with different eyes and hair it's so icky creepy i LOVE IT. i wish they were explored deeper because i love mechanical horror and the relationship between artificial beings and the organic life that surrounds them. not only that but their maker has like gendo ikari vibes. if u havent noticed i have a lot 2 say.

21-Favorite opening(s)/ending(s).

maji de kansha literally actually changed my life. i got through a lot of really low points because of maji de kansha this isn't even a joke. it's been a decade now and the song still hits just as hard. as for endings uhhhhhhhhhh katte ni cinderella was the best but i don't like the full version only the short anime version

22-Favorite character song(s).

ice road, starline, and yasashii mirai. OH and don't stop that's such a fucking banger from ibuki munemasa himself. he did that for us

23-Favorite friendship(s)/character dynamic(s).

i like the dynamic everyone has with endou like he actually becomes friends with like. everyone even the weird italian kid that thought it was okay kageyama tried to murder him. well he didn't think it was okay he just didn't even really care which is almost weirder

24-Favorite ship(s).

im almost 27 i dont really find fulfillment in shipping teenagers together

25-Favorite protagonist(s).

tenma and kidou my boyz

26-Favorite villain(s).

BITWAY OZROCK!!!!!!! and kageyama

27-Favorite character’s backstory.

i have this really messed up and long origin story for all the aliea season kids that i wrote years ago lmao... as for canon i just don't care i guess. it's not so much the backstory as how the character handles it in the end like the backstory can be Aww Sad all it wants but if the character acts like a dick or just unintersting in the plot bc of it then why should i really care. fudou akio im calling u out

28-Favorite sidecharacter(s)/NPC(s).

the clown

29-Headcanon(s) worth of sharing here.

i remember i had this whole kageyama family/shindou family/tachimukai family tree headcanon that was like basically shindou was kageyama's illegitimate son. kageyama's brother married tachimukai's older sister or cousin or whatever and they had hikaru. and way long down the line hikaru was related to sakamaki who created perfect cascade. much to think about

30-Free ask!

i need everyone to know that inazuma eleven is intrinsically linked with star trek: deep space nine by way of deep space nine's japanese dub. the lady who dubbed ezri dax was the lady who voiced toramaru. that is all

#i had a lot more to talk about than i thought #cant believe ive been a fan of this series for like. almost 11 years

7 notes · View notes

three--rings · 2 years

Text

Hey, so many of my very favorite video games are super on sale right now on Steam, so please allow me to speak at you for a moment.

The sale is a Spike Chunsoft sale, so it includes series like Danganronpa and Stein’s Gate and others.

But SPECIFICALLY I adore the games of Kotaro Uchikoshi, the Zero Escape series and the AI:The Somnian Files series.

The Zero Escape games are some of my ALL TIME very favorite video games. You can get all the games in the series for $25 right now, 75% off.

Uchikoshi’s games are typically part visual novel, part puzzles, though later games are fully voiced visual novels. (Actually I 100% forget the steam version of 999 is highly voiced now too...because it wasn’t voiced AT ALL when I played it the first...IDK 4 times.)

Uchikoshi does amazing things with narrative and tells stories that only work in the video game format. The stories are entirely WILD and often veer from ridiculous to character moments that make you sob.

The games definitely have horror/violent elements, so some content warning apply. Like they are NOT playing around and WILL hurt you, but god is it worth it. The games take a LOT of time to play, and they all have multiple endings/routes with one of them being the “real” or “goal” ending. But again, WORTH it.

I have bought MULTIPLE entire game systems to play these games, and the fact you can just BUY them so cheap now is kinda wild to me. (Also hey, you aren’t going to deal with the game-breaking bug on the 2nd Zero Escape game on the 3DS where I lost 60 hours of progress.)

So yeah, take this as a kick in the butt, if this is at all your kind of thing.

I just finished the first AI game and am buying the second in this game, but I really enjoyed the first.

(I also love Danganronpa and if you like one series you WILL enjoy the other. It’s a similar level of Messed Up and Also Deep.)

The sale is going on through the 19th.

ETA: I wrote this at 6AM so pardon me, but I forgot the series were labeled weird on Steam. The Nonary Games is a collection of the first two Zero Escape Games. So one purchase ($12 right now????!!!!!) and you get two full games with each something like 100 hours in it. (999 depends a lot on decisions how long it takes. ZE2 is super long to complete.)

The first Zero Escape game, 999: 9 Hours, 9 Persons, 9 Doors is a mystery set on a sinking replica (?) of the Titanic, in which a cast of 9 people have to find their way through the ship to the last door to escape before it sinks. But that’s only the surface level of what’s actually going on...

The second ZE game is Virtue’s Last Reward, a direct sequel to the first, but that’s not immediately obvious. It’s a little more sci-fi, a little more out there, with more twisty paths and wild surprises. But in some ways the quintessential Zero Escape (though NOTHING will beat 999 in my mind). These two are included in the one Nonary Games package.

Zero Time Dilemma is the completion(?) of the trilogy which we thought for years we wouldn’t get and then we did. Opinions are mixed on this one, and it dials up the horror and violence and Saw-esque aspects a lot, but it’s extremely memorable and unique. Utterly terrified me the first time I played it BTW (but like I have anxiety and don’t do horror games.)

AI: The Somnian Files is an unrelated series from the same writer/director. A sci-fi police detective mystery, in which a police detective who can use secret tech to experience people’s dreams tries to solve a serial killer case. Very weird, very wild, but honestly even more impressive on a second play/watch because the writing is super clever. Great voice acting and character work. Very silly (easy) action sequences. There’s also a direct sequel that just released in June.

Pretty much all of them have trigger warnings for dark content, death, suicide, sexism, child abuse...but USUALLY stuff is handled well for anime-genre media, with the exception of some anime-typical sexism.

#video games #zero escape #ai the somnium files #spike chunsoft

57 notes · View notes

faithfromanewperspective · 7 months

Text

When I look back, I’ve always had this part of me longing for something, a kind of connection I didn’t understand the concept of. There would be something in my head that’d draw me to Wattpad stories, to Tumblr screenshots I found on Pinterest in the mid 2010s. I’d try spend my time doing other things that I found enjoyable, back in the days we still thought screens were evil (or maybe it was the yet uneducated environmentalist in me talking). But a quote always stuck to me that the things you do while procrastinating are often the things you really want to do and should be doing. I didn’t know what it was, but I was collecting perspectives.

I’m good with people, I really am, I have a lot of friends, and I have insecurities and then-undiagnosed neurodivergence but I didn’t think that ever really got in the way of me connecting and anyone who saw me would agree to that. I didn’t know it but I was longing for some kind of deeper connection, a warmth I only ever felt with one real-life person who I fell in love with as a teenager and I thought what I felt was only related to romance. I forgot the little bits of that feeling I felt with my primary school friends before I moved interstate, forgot how magical that was. Forgot how every subsequent connection, even this one, was stained with the hurt of that loss and an avoidance of being vulnerable.

Avoiding the parts of me I see in the characters I love so dearly. I see in people who love them as much, if not more than I do, I see when I finally sit still enough to realise I’m suffering, I’m hurting, and I really don’t know if it’ll ever stop. Maybe it’s like grief, we grow around it, but it stays the same size. I do know what I look like on the surface, to many for whom it’s all they ever bother to see, they don’t know how to see anything else or as my first love once said ‘that’s what they choose to see’. Because it’s been hard for years. Decades. It’s getting harder every year. I can function through anything (it’s one of my greatest skills and biggest misunderstandings with the world), until I can’t.

But I see it in other people, and I relate to the perspectives I collect in some way or another. When we connect on this level, I’ll always relate to you. When we connect over a character who goes through similar, even if not the exact same things, that we do. The way I related to my Wattpad characters and this real life person (but could never acknowledge in real life) I relate to you. And that warmth is magical. Tumblr is a place of escape, but it’s the kind of escape that is safety to be who I really am, a kind of escape I want to bring into my real life with the safety and confidence and deep connection it facilitates. And when I do, it doesn’t feel real.

But it is. That warmth of connection, it’s everywhere. The ‘I want to give you a hug because I just feel that Vibe coming off of you’ and it’s not interspersed with months of silence or diluted by the monotony of day to day life and 'who will run the dishwasher?' The awe at the fact that what this person has survived is incredible. And I’m not part of a world that sweeps this stuff under the rug. We bring it into the light in trust and we cherish it. set our souls on fire from the inside and use that connection to help us face all the battles that are life. Collecting perspectives, it leads to collecting connection. And honestly, that’s how I live.

#personal mental health tag #a love letter to my mutuals #neurodivergent solidarity #neurodivergent liberation #because that's what this is. part of my #neurodivergence

4 notes · View notes

sanzu-sanzu-sanzu · 11 months

Note

Idk how to say it but I just love, love your treatment of details in your fics. And I don't just mean your description of scenes or their headspace (which requires a different ask) but the way you place context and background information is just so easy to read and not overwhelming at all. and I know you say you don't know football haha but I feel like you're the kind of writer who really does research (and you can really see) and I just appreciate that so much!

hahahahaha! oh my gosh! this just got me so giddy. i've been smiling like a fool..

yes i like to do some research haha! a lot of them surface-level though and sometimes yeah i do a bit of deep-dive, but when i do there's more of it that does not make it to the fic anyway. it's okay though, i still like to read up about particular topics related to the fic either way, just so i get a better picture (or feel, at the very least) of what i'm writing about :)

so yeah when i wrote for TR especially, i did read up on so many gang and crime stuff on that one. for blue lock, it's fun cus i actually had IRLs i could talk to about football you know? HAHAHA. i ended up talking to some of my biggest football fan friends about football and we just talked and talked about nothing specific in particular, just anything football. like who were their favorite players and why. like oh apparently it's very very possible to play in a foreign/wherever club but then represent your home country in say, world cup or olympics. (a friend even went on about citizenship stuff which i listened to but forgot now but i said i'm gonna need him to repeat back to me sometime later hahahahaha).

oh, and i have this friend who told me his favorite this player eden hazard who is an attacking midfielder (LIKE SAE!!) who played for chelsea but actually whose dream team, according to my friend, was real madrid!!! this guy my friend said was considered one of the best players of his generation but now he's in real madrid a lot of people consider him a flop hahaha. my friend still likes him though.

#anri 💌

2 notes · View notes

cutemeat · 2 years

Note

What up I haven't watched any sunny for like 3 months so my mind is a perfectly smooth blank slate - what seasons/eps are you poking around at most rn, I'll go watch them too :)

!!!! OOO yes ok i have a few eps ive been specifically fixated on esp since s15 came out...

i have been dissecting "The Gang Tries Desperately to Win an Award" and "Gets Quarantined" because they really reflect the writing of season 15 and I think its probs intentional.. mostly the way the gang describes 'playing the game' in the Award ep with the bright lights, fun colors, and funny banter... reflects the visual/surface-level aesthetics and writing of s15 and the subtext of Gets Quarantined (I wrote up an essay on this but forgot to post it so hopefully ill get around to that soon LOL) is very useful when reading s15! so I've been rlly into those eps ... I ESP RECCOMEND COMPARING THE ENDINGS OF "GETS QUARANTINED" AND THE S15 FINALE IF U WANT.. the whole thing abt 'creating a visual harmony' and how the gang does exactly that w audio/visuals at the end of Gets Quarantined and how they Very Much Do Not attain harmony at the end of s15 despite the framing making it seem that way at first glance is just so... so good. mwah.

but also s3 as a whole i have been rlly into the past few months! it's just so great cuz I think s3 perfectly captures most of who these characters are at their core, obv not EXACTLY cuz they were always hiding shit but its so so close... esp when u watch s3 then jump to like s15 u can see so clearly the kind of ppl they're PRETENDING to be in later seasons compared to who they really are in earlier seasons... but also how frank is basically the opposite cuz while the younger half of the gang builds up their facades over the years, frank's facade fades away!!!

and ive also been rlly diving into s13 lately... like oh my god there's so much to that season that I feel like I never see anyone rlly talk abt?? like.. i think its just a time thing. like an episode from season 7 is gonna be a lot more beloved than an ep from s13 by default I think cuz we've just had more Time with it... but man s13 has some rlly good depth in a lot of places. also I just have a good tolerance for 'bad writing' ig so I don't care </3

and lastly ive been obsessed with 'Mops Twice' !!! I've been trying to rlly get a good reading done on that ep... currently, I'm rlly fixated on the ep's use of the color red and esp how its used on the lips of both female characters?? wondering if its sort of a play on the concept of a 'red herring' esp since the color red was used in that kind of way in The Sixth Sense which mac n charlie make a big deal over in s5... idk I just feel like that's another instance where newer seasons don't get as deep analysis but there's a lot there to pick apart!! (my main theory is charlie is an extremely unreliable narrator who makes himself out to be the underdog/hero/victim in a similar fashion to how the narrative of Fight Club can be read... n he makes everyone else out to be the villains in very stereotypical ways complimenting noir tropes.. like deetress being the sorta femme fatales.. macdennis being queercoded villains... idk there's just a lot LOL)

TL;DR... "The Gang Tries Desperately to Win an Award" & "Gets Quarantined" from S9, Seasons 3 & 13, and "Mops Twice" from S14 have been my main focuses as of late!

#im srry this is probs incoherent. im too lost in the sauce w this show truly

16 notes · View notes

awakeshedreams · 3 years

Text

sugar and spice ( 1 )

pairing : resident bad boy!jjk x model student!reader

setting : highschool!au x stepbrother!au

summary :

a messy highschool!au x stepbrother!au where model student reader who has quite a few dirty little secrets sees her world take an unexpected turn when her mother comes home one day with an engagement announcement, to the father of none other than the school's resident bad boy.... Jeon Jungkook.

genre : smut, for laughs, kinda pornish, slow burn with collosaly overwhelming sexual tension

rating: soft m ( for now ) due to adult content

warnings : unconventional relationship of sexual nature, tropes and clichès, teenagers partaking in porn-esque activities, made up things with made up people happening in a made up world, don't like don't read XD

wordcount : 2.3K

a/n : i've been fighting in a long standing war and I have lost. the man known as jeon jungkook had his foot on my neck for years and today, I have finally submitted to my fate and surrendered to his reign.

yes. after a hundred years, i'm writing again. specifically, writing for bts. particularly, writing for jungkook. its been a long time coming.

life just took over and I transitioned into an adult and kind of grew out of the state of mind I was in before. but. sigh. jeon jungkook has been tormenting me the whole time. it was only a matter of time before i relapsed honestly.

so here I am again. in mind, body and spirit, a different person from who I was before but still the same in the sense that with the way bts have my whole heart, jk will always be the demon in the corner of my room that I invite to bed for a cuddle even though it's (probably really) not good for me.

do not misconstrue. I love him more than I can say. but. sigh. he has me in a chokehold, loves. please try to understand where I'm coming from.

anyways, enough with this ranting. you all came here for the nitty gritty so let me not hold you hostage with my dilemma rambling any longer. here's to the first bts fic i've posted in literal years. introducing- sugar and spice.

1 2

Unless they told someone, no one would have been able to guess it.

At school they were complete strangers.

She was the nice head girl with a clean record, all smiles and straight A’s. He was the mysterious bad boy with a track record, all tatted up with bruised knuckles.

She wore plaid skirts with neat pleads in them and pastel sweaters with bows at the collar. He wore jeans with rips in them and leather jackets with studs.

They couldn't have been any more different.

As far as anyone was concerned, they existed on two extreme ends of a vast spectrum.

What they didn't know was that they shared a dirty little secret.

You were a girl with many dirty secrets.

For instance, you used to sell nudes online. It was a side hustle you did.

Not because you needed money.

Your mom was a renowned doctor so there was more than enough of that in your life.

Not because you needed validation from people online either.

Even without the constant compliments and the praises you knew you were visually blessed with a pretty face and a nice body too.

All things considered, you simply thought you had a nice pair of tits and you took pictures of them sometimes.

Posting the shots you snapped online came much later when you heard about this website where people were getting paid crazy money for posting racy things.

‘It’s just so degrading…’ It was one of your friends, June, who sneered, pretty nose scrunched up. She fixed her long ponytail and rolled her brown eyes while looking in the mirror at her locker. ‘Who would do such a thing, am I right?’

She said this, but June was the girl who has slept with more boys than she could count on her two hands. And those were the ones she told you about.

Like every other time, you said nothing. Even when it carried on to lunch with the rest.

‘Pretty desperate if you ask me.’ Mei the stellar track runner shrugged casually as she stretched her limbs like routine.

‘Where are their parents?’ Nina the library nerd shook her head in disapproval as she fixed her glasses so it sat right on the bridge of her nose.

‘Um… I don’t think it’s … appropriate… to talk about ….’ Kiko the one who always carried a cross and bible around mumbled into her sleeve.

All your friends spoke of it in derision and repulsion of course. This was a school for proper children so they were proper girls. At least they were supposed to be.

Regardless the conversation sparked a curiosity in you.

So you made an account and uploaded your first picture. Nothing bizarre. Just your tits in a pretty lace bra.

You made sure to keep your face out of the frame because that was the smart thing to do and you were nothing if not the smartest student in school.

In all honesty, you weren’t expecting anything out of it. In fact, in between work with student council and tutoring your juniors with finals right around the corner, you even forgot about it for an entire month.

It was by a complete whim that you decided to open the app while you’d been unwinding at your desk following a tedious day at school.

To say you were amused by the response you found waiting for you would have be a grave understatement.

You were staring at the four figure digit that now sat in your bank account.

Reading through the comment section was even more interesting.

There were all sorts of people there who had all sorts of things to say. Ranging from honestly sweet to downright dirty.

You had never been brought to tears laughing in her life before until then.

It was just so funny to see people misbehave and lose their minds over a pair of tits.

From then on it just sort of became a thing.

But that wasn't the worse of your secrets.

You were making a name for yourself on the crude web months later.

The next step was naturally to move from making taking pictures to making videos. Since you was already in too deep you didn’t see why not.

So you upgraded and opened another account. An amateur one where your touched yourself for an audience.

You were no prude.

You might have never been touched by a boy before but you had touched yourself plenty times. Stress and frustration came hand in hand with being head girl. Since you couldn’t quite vent it out at the annoying troublemakers at school, this was your second best option.

Third was watching porn, but that was mostly when you were extremely bored.

But that wasn’t where that little endeavor ended.

Later on it became a lot more risqué.

It all started when your mom hit you with a marriage announcement.

She met a guy on her business trip who she really liked and she was convinced he was the one.

Your mom had a tragic history of being a bad judge of character.

You’ve had this conversation at least five times since you became old enough to understand that boys and girls who were just friends didn’t kiss and sleep with each other.

Most times, it felt like she was doing it because she thought you needed a dad around.

You might have once, when you were younger and your mom was too busy with work to be there. But she worked from home these days and you were soo busy with school to worry about things like that.

This time it was like she was doing it for her. You were glad.

Your mom looked genuinely happy when she spoke about this guy.

Who were you to get in the way?

She spent almost the whole weekend in the kitchen. It was the longest you’ve seen her in there in your entire life.

She was excited for the dinner on Sunday.

Mr Jeon was the name of the chosen man.

He was coming over with his kid. A son, his only family. His wife passed away years ago.

You wore the dress your mom picked out for you, something cream in color and off the shoulders that brushed your knees. She looked pretty in her champagne dress. It was different from the office slacks and loose blouses you were used to seeing her in.

You stood by her at the door while the guests came through.

Lifting your head from a polite bow, you found herself staring straight into an achingly familiar pair of glinting dark eyes and went completely still.

‘Sweetie,' Your mother said sounding delighted, a soft hand on your stiff shoulder. 'This is Mr Jeon and his son Jungkook.’

Ah. Fuck.

‘Jeon dear, this is my daughter. Isn’t she lovely?’

Dinner was a mild affair, with small talk and the occasional clinking of cutlery on fine china.

From the outside looking in, you probably looked the picture perfect family already.

Only if no-one looked close enough.

Arms crossed, tongue in cheek. Your discomfort could be detected from miles away.

The two adults were oblivious.

The dark eyed boy with the slightest wave to his nape touching, brow grazing, ear covering onyx hair sat across you though; he took note of this with a passing glance and wordlessly returned to his food.

Jeon Jungkook had a countenance that betrayed his reputation.

Even though you’ve never talked, you knew plenty about him and you were sure he knew a lot about you too.

You went to the same school.

Dressed as he was in a crisp white dress shirt buttoned at the wrist and dark tailored pants with a fine belt on, it might have been hard to tell what kind of person he really was.

You lifted her gaze from your plate to look study him wordlessly, idly twisting the noodles with your fork.

People either called him the black sheep or the dark cloud but for you, Jeon Jungkook was the school’s resident lone wolf.

He smoked in the secluded areas on campus, sometimes playing his guitar. Beat up people who got on his nerves, sometimes using his guitar. Slept in class the rare times he was there, many times on his guitar.

Being his senior, you had never seen any of any of that for yourself. But you received plenty reports weekly to come to a sound conclusion.

There was no way people hated him enough to join hands in solidarity and make this all up.

It was quite the contrary actually. He had an alarming number of fans.

On the surface level you couldn’t see why. Most times you saw him, he looked bored out his mind and honestly, intimidating.

Maybe it was the tattoos. Or the ripped skinny jeans. Or the leather jackets with studs.

Maybe it was the domineering height and fit frame and structured face.

Maybe it was the intense dark eyes or the silky ruffled hair.

Even then, you failed to see the irresistible appeal in him. All those things that made him up only added to his unapproachable aura.

Bottom line was, he was bad news.

You didn’t want to be a spoil sport.

But how much of a thug your mom’s boyfriend’s son was shouldn’t be something that would make her like him less.

They were both their own people. Right ?

It was just that you just didn’t want her to be shocked and devastated if something happened later. When it happened.

Yet it seemed the serious conversation would have to wait.

After dinner your mom suggested you head to the living room to chat over wine and cheese.

You stayed back to do take out the dishes.

Earlier, your mom had stood to do it instead at first.

‘Don’t bother with that, dear.’ She reached for the plates in your hands. ‘Let me do it.’

‘It’s okay, mom.’ You smiled a little. ‘This is your night. I’ll meet you in the living room.’

'Sweetie...' Your mom looked close to tears. ‘But there’s so much of it…’

‘Jungkook,’ his father's voice had cut through the moment. He was a serious man in a crisp suit with a stoic countenance. His voice was just naturally authoritarian without him trying ‘Give her a hand.’

Jungkook stood, almost robotically.

‘It’s fine.’ You said. Politely. Nicely. Tightly. ‘I can handle this much.’

You left without another word.

That had been moments ago and now you were done with cleaning.

You stood at living room entrance for a while, taking in the scene.

The two adults were exchanging moon eyes and whispering in each other’s ears at the love seat.

Jungkook was sitting on a solo seat, but he was on his phone, completely unbothered by what was happening.

Your mom seemed to think it was the perfect time to pull out the photo album right then and there upon seeing you.

It was embarrassing but at least you knew you didn’t have to worry about the pictures spreading at school.

Jungkook was looking, picking up a picture occasionally to rove over, but he wasn’t the type to do that.

He also wasn’t the type to stare but you felt his glance shifting to you and lingering multiple times.

Once, you caught his eyes and he just stared at you across the coffee table wordlessly with a curious tilt to his head, idly flipping a picture of you dressed as a knight in glitter shining armor for Halloween at eight in his hands.

Honestly, it was starting to get annoying.

But you endured. For your mom’s sake.

Your alarm went off at exactly ten.

As subtly as you could, you excused yourself with an apology to the guests, saying you weren't really feeling well.

In hindsight you probably should have used a better excuse.

Your mom was notorious when it came to worrying, especially when it comes to your health.

Also, you probably should’ve locked the door before undressing just for good measure since people were over.

But in the moment, you were too busy setting your camera up where you were kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed to be concerned about that.

That day you were testing out a new toy.

Distractedly, you took note of a couple of people asking you if that was your boyfriend’s shirt you had lifted over your tits.

You ignored them.

Couldn’t a girl own an oversized tee without getting any flack?

Trivial comments like that aside, a good majority of the audience are fawning over how wet you were and how perfect you bouncing tits look being played with.

Your head fell back and your eyes fluttered shut.

You were sitting there, knees raised to your chest and legs splayed, your gushing pussy in full display where the toy was stuffed deep into her tightness, vibrating pleasantly.

‘I’m close…’ you mumbled throatily, squeezing your tits and pinching your stiff nipples in between your moving fingers. You moved your hips move faster, feeling the toy buzz against fluttering walls. You took a hand off one of your tits to rub at your engorged clit. ‘Fuckfuckfuck…’

Deep in your high, you didn’t hear the door open and close with a foreboding click.

You only heard your name being called by a deep, smooth voice through the heady haze.

Instantly you stilled.

When you snapped your head to look over her shoulder Jungkook was there, hands in his pockets, leaning against your doorframe with his sleeves drawn up to his elbows, muscle roped, inked skin on full display.

When he tilted his head to the side a little, appraisively, you dared to say as a quaking chill ran down your spine and your entire body felt like it was about to burst into flames, a bit of his hair fell over his face.

His eyes were like two black in the dark as he took you in, dragging his gaze up and down your exposed body languidly.

In the back of your mind, you wished the ground would part and swallow you whole.

‘Your mom,' he starts, capturing your attention wholly, dark gaze finally flickering to your face, his voice suddenly lower, hoarser. ‘She sent me over to check on you.’

It took you a moment to realize where you were, who you were, who he was.

It was like a bucket of cold water had been dropped over your head.

Jeon Jungkook, the school's resident trouble maker, soon to be your step brother, just walked in on you fingering yourself in in front of a recording camera.

Well. Yeah.

You gulped.

You were royally fucked.

depending on the response I get I might ( most probably will ) delete this. not because I'm ashamed of my work. because I'm embarrassed of myself. I really swore to never write again and here I am. sigh. yes, I have seen my previous works and noticed just how terrible they were and this is a big reason why. so sorry for putting you through that. a million apologies.

also, that's right. I have adopted a new style which might not be to everyone's liking. another reason why.

anyways, if you liked this filth ( i know it seems mild but I can tell you it's very likely gonna get worse ) please idk uh... fuck this isn't ao3. hm.

like and drop by in the ask box if you liked it and want to see more. it makes me happy. its like serotonin fuel to me.

have a nice day. see you next time ( maybe ). stay fresh. yeah. 💜💜.

#bangtan #bts #bts angst #bts fluff #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts smut #bts au #jeon jungkook #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts high school au #jungkook high school au

452 notes · View notes

fandomwriterstuff · 3 years

Text

“We’re a well-oiled team of military-grade kindergarteners,” his best friend, and the only other human on the ship who would understand what kindergarten was, continued chastising him and his companions. “The level of education and training among the three of you eclipses that of the entire rest of the members of this operation,” Annabeth continued, pointing her finger individually at himself, his pilot Jason, and his Chief Science Officer Nico. “You know, I’m not that surprised with you, Percy, but you are our XO so you should really be more responsible,” he winced at that, still feeling a bit of imposter syndrome at being the Commander of the USS Olympus. “Jason, shouldn’t you be piloting a ship or something?” At that, he saluted her and did an about face before scampering off to get into more trouble. “And you, you’re definitely way too responsible to have gotten mixed up with this Seaweed Brain and Sparky, so what’s in this tomfoolery for you?”

Nico, the only Neptunian on the ship, shifted his large black wings self consciously under the scrutiny of their Chief of Operations. Percy, as the Commander of the vessel, felt obligated to protect his usually stoic and well-behaved… acquaintance? Di Angelo was reserved, almost standoffish, and resented anyone who tried to stick up for him for some reason, but that didn’t stop Percy’s stupid seaweed brain from doing so. Hence the acquaintance. Percy was 99% sure Di Angelo didn’t consider him a friend. But he was nice to Percy and a great officer, so Percy considered him his friend.

“It was my fault, Annie,” he used her childhood nickname carefully, not knowing whether it would soften her up or piss her off more. He was hoping for softening. “It was just another one of Jason and my dumb ideas that we thought we would need a scientist to help with, and we didn’t want to piss off Leo by involving him in it. You know how he is about his engineer and warp cores and whatnot,” Percy held his hands up placatingly. “Leave Di Angelo out of this, he has sciencey things to do, isn’t that right?” Percy side-eyed his companion who (not surprisingly) rolled his eyes.

“I try not to get involved with human pranks or even Jovian mischief, but Officer Grace and First Officer Jackson were about to be meddling with my linguistics team. It isn’t my duty to tell my superiors what to do, so I sought out the next best option, supervising and ensuring no lasting damage was done to the physical or emotional state of the linguistics team. Now,” Here Percy held in a smirk as Di Angelo shrugged. “If they caused interference with the machinery of the ship, that wouldn’t be my expertise, so I allowed it to happen and-” Percy held back a laugh as the other male started speaking even faster to get everything out as Annabeth turned redder and redder. “I’m very sorry about that, truly, but I had no control over the situation.”

“No control over the situation? You three broke our LIT machine and now we have to go back to Earth as soon as we pass close enough to fix it. Soon enough nobody on this ship will understand each other,” the woman across from them crossed her arms and Percy shrunk back a bit.

“I want to make a joke about a machine being called “LIT,” but I feel like it isn’t the right time,” he muttered. “I know the Linguistic Inhibition Technology is important, but most of us have a working understanding of at least one other language, so it shouldn’t be a huge issue, right?”

“You know it works by connecting to the implant technology in our brains, so as it shuts down one by one, members of this ship from spaces stations and planets far and wide will have no clue why they suddenly can’t understand their XO, or their Chief Officer, or their best friend. So you better explain this. And you have to tell them that we’re going straight back to Earth to fix it because no nearby planets have the same brain implant tech as us. Damn Terrans and their brand name technology copyrights,” Annabeth grumbled and finally turned around to walk off.

“Hey, you’re Terran, too!” Percy shouted after her, but she just flipped him the bird.

“She can do that?” Di Angelo asked, side-eyeing Percy.

“Yeah, she’s been my best friend since we were twelve. As long as she doesn’t undermine my authority in front of everyone else, I don’t really care. I’ve done way worse to her,” Percy laughed at the other man’s frown. “Nothing bad, just pranks and things of that sort. Maybe when we get back to Earth we can show you where we’re from. You never set foot off of the training grounds while you were in school.”

“I would… like that,” Di Angelo paused and gave Percy a soft smile.

“Great,” Percy patted the younger male on the shoulder and made his way to the Command Center.

Percy sat himself down in the rotating chair and pressed on the comms device.

“Gooooood evening crew of the USS Olympus, this is your Commanding Officer, Percy Jackson, speaking,” he smiled at the engineering crew that was scuttling by, only for one of them to pause and look at him like he was speaking a different language… Whoops.

“There was a malfunction with the Linguistic Inhibition Technology and we will be returning to Earth henceforth to repair it before the damage becomes problematic. You may experience glitches with your implant technology and may revert to only understanding your first language and those you have studied extensively. If somebody looks like they’re not understanding what I’m saying right now, please escort them to the linguistics team in Science Bay 3. Carry on. Jackson, out.” He clicked again and the mic turned off.

He sighed, this would be one of his bigger mistakes. They were supposed to be exploring, but they couldn’t do that if nobody could speak to one another. One trip home couldn’t hurt him, and he was sure Annabeth would be happy to see her father.

It wasn’t until later after the Chief Officer meeting when someone finally asked Percy about Earth. For many of the non-humans on the ship, Earth was a place to get education and training to go out in the star fleet, and they never set foot outside the campus grounds, just like Di Angelo. But people had stopped asking him questions because Earth was basically “Space Australia,” as Annabeth had explained to him. The adaptability of humans and their need to pack bond astounded many and horrified many others. So, he stopped talking about home.

It was a new member of their ship, Novax (a Vulcan who was a part of Leo’s engineering team), who asked him about it first.

“I hear Earth is 75% made of pure salt water, and is filled with animals of all kinds. Do you have a favorite water animal?” he asked Percy excitedly.

“Definitely dolphins, though they aren’t underwater creatures. Like humans they need oxygen to breathe, and come up for air very often. My favorite actual underwater species would have to be a hippocampus from Neptune. I’ve always wanted to go and see one, but my human anatomy prevents me from going on-planet,” Percy explained and sipped on his hot tea.

“There are a million creatures in the ocean and you pick one that doesn’t breathe underwater?” Clarisse grunted. His Chief Tactical Officer was a brutish Martian, but very specialized in weapons. “And your second favorite isn’t even Terran.”

“What else do you know about the ‘ocean’?” Novax breathed, leaning forward.

“Eh, not much,” Percy shrugged.

“I’m not sure I heard that correctly, maybe my LIT unit isn’t functioning well,” another member of engineering asked, Nyssa. “Your planet is 75% water and you don’t even know what is inside it?”

“I could tell you about the people who spend their life learning about what survives in the deep depths,” Percy looked up, knowing he had all of the non-Terrans hooked on every word. Even Di Angelo had paused in his note taking and was staring wide-eyed at Percy. “But I don’t know if you’d want to know.”

“No we do!” Nyssa exclaimed. “There are people who dedicate their lives to a place that’s literally not navigable by humans, the main inhabitants of the planet?”

“Well as you said, most of the planet is water. Which means that coastal communities are filled with fisherman, whalers, swimmers, and more. I could tell you about some of those. I could also tell you about the scientists that spend years of their lives building bots that can’t even come close to withstanding the pressure at the deepest depths without imploding, or I could tell you about those that do come close,” he shrugged.

“What happened to those?”

“The video feed cut out after only seeing multiple rows of sharp, jagged teeth,” Annabeth answered, her sharp grin frightening those who hadn’t noticed her. Some forgot that she was Terran, because she was also half Minervan.

“I could tell you about whales. Beautiful, they come in black and white or grey or blue. But they can be as big as almost 100 feet long. That’s as long as most pirate ships. And they could fit about 400 average sized humans in their mouths. You don’t want to cross one of them. And they only live on the surface. The things that live in the deep,” Percy shuddered for effect. There were no Neptunians on the ship, so there were no natural water dwellers there, so all of his rapt listeners were shocked by this information. “There’s the anglerfish. They light up the dark with an antenna on top of their heads, and the light lures in prey. But it’s so dim elsewhere that you don’t see their big sharp teeth until you’re right up against them,” he murmured. “Giant squids are almost as big as whales but not nearly as peaceful and beautiful. They have eight arms and two tentacles that could wrap around any boat and crush it.”

“Ten limbs?” Nyssa whispered, clearly disturbed.

“Plus, the Portuguese Man o’ War,” Percy shrugged nonchalantly. “Also known as the floating terror. It’s like a big blue jellyfish that sits innocently on top of the water with huge blue tentacles that sit just underneath with a sting strong enough to kill a full grown human.”

“Don’t worry,” Annabeth grinned that shark grin again. “Percy won’t tell you about the stories of the old days. He doesn’t want to scare you.”

“That was the not scary part?” Novax gulped.

“Anyway, I just got notified that we’ll be back on Earth in a few days, so brace yourselves,” and with that, she stood and left them all staring after her. When the door clicked shut, Percy had all eyes back on him. He shrugged.

“Don’t look at me. I wasn’t going to tell you about the kr- nevermind,” he stood. “Di Angelo, with me,” the younger officer stood, back to business and was at Percy’s side again in a moment. “Clear your schedule, you’re spending shore leave with me, pal.”

“Great,” came the deadpan reply.

“Don’t sound so somber,” Percy rolled his eyes. “I’m just going to show you the beach and maybe a good gay bar. You need to let off some steam my dude.”

The other male reddened.

“That is so… That is…” he huffed. “Highly inappropriate.” he glared down at the ground and Percy felt a little bad, maybe the guy wasn’t out? But it was clear he had a preference for males. Oh well, that foot was already in Percy’s mouth.

“Fine. But I will be attending and I am a great dancer so you’re missing out,” he winked at the flustered officer and made his way back to his cabin. It would be an interesting few days.

He made a plan with Annabeth. Day one before shore leave, Percy would spread a rumor to Novax about the kraken. Bigger than a giant squid and meaner. Known to crush entire pirate ships in the olden days.

Day two, Annabeth would mention sirens to Nyssa. Hideous creatures that could lure you in with their voices and lead you to believe you were bringing your ship in to everything you ever wanted, when in reality you would crash your ships and then drown.

Day three, Percy would tell Leo about the Megalodon. A definitely very real shark so big you couldn’t even imagine it. Percy shuddered at that one.

“But, there are some good things,” Percy was speaking to Nico Di Angelo from his Commander chair, in ear shot of some of the participants of the conversation a few nights prior. “Mermaids, the siren’s nicer cousin species. And the lost city of Atlantis. Known to be a great and bountiful city, lost to the sea and cursed by the gods to be stuck down there forever. Some believe it still exists, but it’s within the Bermuda Triangle.”

“What, pray tell, is the Bermuda Triangle,” Clarisse sighed.

“Hard to explain. Ships just… go in… and they never come out,” Annabeth shrugged. “Planes go down. Ships wreck. People who go in don’t come back out, so we don’t know if Atlantis is really there or not.”

“That’s… terrifying,” Novax whispered as he walked by.

Percy was sure he had created a healthy fear of Earth’s oceans in his crew. And he meant to, because while he loved the beach and swimming, he did want to make them shy away from the depths. They wouldn’t do well to explore it.

#percy jackson #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #star trek #fusion #nicercy #percico #if you squint

186 notes · View notes

noteguk · 3 years

Text

danger zone | knj | m

— summary; in which namjoon lives a dangerous life and sometimes you can’t really stand it. Still, you can’t step away either.

— contents and warnings; smut, a little spark of angst and a fuckload of fluff, criminal!namjoon x reader, established relationship, dom!namjoon and sub!reader, breast play, fingering, oral (f rec), dirty talk, begging, Namjoon has a big dick, unprotected sex, creampie, a bit of possessiveness, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

— words; 4,5k

— author’s note; this was supposed to be a quick pwp drabble but here we are…

Words could not explain the relief that washed over you when you saw the headlights peaking through the diaphanous living room curtains, blasting inside your house like beacons of divine hope. You ran to the front door faster than ever before, stepping into the cold mist of the night as he closed the car door behind him. You managed to see his friend, Hoseok, waving you goodbye before he pulled out of the driveway and you started balling your eyes out.

And then you couldn’t really see anything else.

Namjoon did not hesitate to walk toward you, wrapping his strong arms around your lower back and pulling you closer to his warm chest. He smelled of vanilla and cigarettes, and your knees almost buckled at the thought of losing that scent forever.

“Baby, you’re gonna catch a cold,” he mumbled, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. Namjoon positioned one hand on the nape of your neck, playing with your hair as you whimpered against his hot embrace, fists clenched over his pecs. You were wearing only pyjama shorts and a tank top, and the gelid breeze of the night showed you no mercy. “Why don’t we go inside?”

For a moment you thought that your legs would fail you, but, to your relief, it was just a feeble impression. Namjoon held you tightly against him as you two walked back inside your house, mumbling how much he missed you, how much he couldn’t wait to see you again. All that you could do was to listen, with your nose stuffy and eyes tearing up, as he started telling you about his past few weeks.

You had been sure you had lost him that time. Namjoon had never stayed longer than a day without talking to you (or at least telling you that he would be a bit M.I.A. for the following weeks, because of the secretive nature of his work), and the fact that you had gotten nothing but silence for almost three weeks was enough to make your mind go wild. It wasn’t hard to imagine that the worst had finally happened.

There was no one you could call — as in, you had a few numbers, but you were prohibited to get in contact with them. Namjoon had made it clear that he didn’t want you to get involved in his business, and something as simple as a phone call to the wrong person could be enough to get you wrapped up in an official investigation. He had made special efforts to make sure that, in case all went to shit, the feds could never prove that you knew anything about his illicit schemes. If something happened to him — prison, death, something in between — Namjoon would be at peace knowing that you were safe and taken care of.

So, you had been good, and you didn’t call. You had just waited, fighting through your normal routine and forging fake smiles towards your coworkers. By the time that the second week rolled around, you were considering calling every morgue in the country — and then quickly melted down once you realized he was probably not even using his real name. There was nothing you could do but wait. For god knows how long.

Times like those made you want to give up on everything. You and Namjoon had a chemistry that you never felt before, you understood each other in levels that you never thought possible. He loved you with all of his heart and you felt the same. And yet, you were exhausted from being so scared for him, from feeling so helpless in the face of his unstable and unpredictable job.

You had told yourself that, if he came back, you would end it all.

But now that he was standing in front of you, things weren’t so easy.

Your boyfriend took you to the kitchen, where he warmed up a drink for you as he told you about how he had spent those last few weeks. Namjoon explained that one of his shipments had been stolen (of what, you didn’t dare to ask), and he had to take care of it himself. During that time, he and his crew were being attacked and watched constantly, and he would never risk the idea of pulling you into that mess. It was an unspoken truth that having you as a hostage would make all of his defenses crumble. Expressing any sort of weakness in his business was like bleeding in a sea full of sharks.

You understood, because of course you would. And he understood when you told him about how terrified, how overwhelmingly worried you had been.

“I wanted to call Yoongi, Hoseok… I don’t know, anyone,” you said, taking your cup of tea closer to your face. The heat emanated in waves, warming up your lips as the thin lines of smoke curled up in the air. You took a small slip, and the coldness of the night was just a memory then. “But I knew that I shouldn’t do that, so I just… Joon, I thought you were dead.”

“I’m so sorry, love.” Namjoon pulled you in, wrapping one arm around your back and pressing a kiss against your forehead. You always felt so safe in his arms, like nothing could ever touch you. “I know how you feel, it’s unfair making you go through this.”

“It is.” You sniffed, looking down at your tea cup. “But it’s all for you. And I love you, Joon.”

There was a second of silence as the words floated in the space between the two of you, a deep sigh from your part as you placed the cup on the marble surface of the kitchen island. That house felt too big for you, too spacious and filled with expensive stuff, and it whispered doubts in your ear. You didn’t know where all that money came from, you often didn’t know what Namjoon was doing or what he was thinking about. You had no idea what kind of dangers he faced every single day, or the hoops he had to jump through to keep you safe.

You could have given up on everything already. You knew that he would understand. But you didn’t. Time and time again, you would realize that all your momentaneous bravery towards a breakup was short-lived: you loved him more than you feared losing him. You wanted Namjoon and no one else. You knew that ending things and stepping into an ordinary life, with an ordinary guy and ordinary worries, would never cut it. You had learned to live in the danger zone that was your relationship with Namjoon, and you doubted you could ever truly step away from it.

Namjoon knew that too. He looked down at you with a deep mixture of tenderness and devotion in his dark eyes, caressing your cheek as he dove in to place a kiss on your lips. “I love you too, baby,” he murmured. “I missed you so much.”

You melted in his hold, surrounding his waist with your arms and pushing yourself against his chest. “Missed you too,” you said. “I know why you keep these things secret from me, but it fucking sucks.”

Namjoon chuckled, his calloused hands caressing your hair. You realized that he probably was just as worried as you — not knowing if you were safe, if you hadn’t gotten yourself in a messy situation trying to find him. Needless to say, he was filled with pride knowing you did everything he had asked you to. “I’m gonna tell you a secret, but you can’t tell anyone.” The suspense in his voice was enough for you to pull away from his chest, looking up at him with expectant eyes. Namjoon cupped your checks with his hands and smiled. “You're the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You could not fight the smirk that crawled up on your lips. That simple sentence was enough to shift the weight of the atmosphere around the two of you, allowing for your hurt to slip away. “Bullshit,” you said.

“I’m serious.” He raised his eyebrows, lowering himself so he could place another pec on your lips. “Inside and out.”

That time, you could not hold back your laugh. “You’re so cheesy.”

Your comment seemed to light up something inside his head, because, the next second, Namjoon was pulling away with a click of his tongue. “Speaking of cheesy, I almost forgot,” he started to say, turning around. “I got you something. It’s in the bedroom with the rest of my stuff.”

You stood still for a second, trying to understand his words. “You... got me something? In the middle of all of that mess?” Then you were rushing behind him, going up the stairs as Namjoon simply hummed in agreement. “Joon, it’s okay, I—“

“Accept my gift, baby.” He stopped as he reached the second floor, waiting for you to catch up. “It’s not gonna make up for the time away, but I want to make you happy.”

“What is it?” You asked, wet eyes blinking up at him, but he only smiled and turned around, gesturing for you to follow him into the bedroom.

Namjoon’s present was a dress — or, rather, the dress. It was this beautiful long gown you had seen a few months back during one of your trips to the mall, a grandiose red thing that wrapped around the mannequin’s upper body before expanding just beneath its thighs. You remember feeling overwhelmed by its beauty, holding Namjoon’s hand tighter as you shared your amazement with him. Your fascination was short lived, though, because soon the price tag scared you away and you made yourself forget about that overpriced dream.

Until that night, that was. Namjoon told you he had the gift ready to go before it all went down with the shipment situation, and the image of you wearing it was one of the few things that managed to keep him sane for so long. The glimmer of happiness in his eyes was enough for you to silence yourself before you could argue about the dress’ ostentatious price, instead choosing to thank him.

You changed in the large bathroom of your master suite, eyes lost in the way the red shade, pure as sin, clung to your body like it was made for you. There was a wave of love gushing out of your heart, a joyfulness that only came from those little surprises that Namjoon would give you. You loved it. You loved him.

“God,” Namjoon mumbled to himself when you stepped out of the bathroom, his figure sitting on the corner of your large bed. There was a moment of silence as his eyes ran all over your body, trying to memorize every little detail of you, his mind going blank and his mouth dropping in awe. “I might as well fall to my knees and ask for your hand in marriage now.”

You giggled, stepping closer to the bed. “Careful, I might say yes,” you told him, placing your arms around his shoulders. Namjoon looked up at you with so much devotion that you thought you could collapse at any given point. “I loved it. Thank you, Joon.”

He hummed, taking his large palms to rest on either side of your waist. You could feel his heat emanating through the fabric of the dress, sending waves of anticipation up and down your body. “I’m glad you did,” he spoke, his voice much lower than before. You knew Namjoon enough to know exactly what he was thinking, and there was nothing you wanted more than that. “My girl is so pretty…”

His lips were on your neck soon after, nipping and sucking your skin like they were made for that. Namjoon’s hands were trying to explore everywhere at the same time, moving from to your breasts to your waist, then back down your thighs and up your hips and toward your ass — where he placed a strong grip.

“So fucking pretty… all mine,” he was speaking to himself at that point, his breath heavy around your collarbones. Namjoon tugged at the sides of the dress, completely ignoring the zipper as he tried to take it off of you.

You laughed at his eagerness. “Careful with the dress, Joon.”

“I’ll buy you another one.” He tugged at the fabric again, harder that time, and you were afraid that he was actually going to tear it in half if you didn’t act soon. “I’ll buy you any dress you want, don’t care if I ruin this one.”

“I don’t want any other dresses, though.” Your hands left his shoulders and moved up your back, finding the zipper and swiftly pulling it down. Soon enough, the dress was just a pool of redness circling your feet. “I just want you.”

Namjoon swallowed hard at the image of your bare body in full display for him — he should’ve known you wouldn’t wear any underwear with that piece of sin, and he couldn’t say that he was disappointed. All that it took you was one glimpse at his pants to see his hard cock already straining against the fabric, needy for you.

“So beautiful,” he said, reaching out to place his hand on your hip. Namjoon’s eyes were everywhere at once, drinking you up. You knew he was holding back, he could flip you over and fuck you into the mattress at any second he wished to. “Is this all for me, baby?”

“Yes,” you told him, taking his hand and guiding it to your breast. Namjoon squeezed the soft flesh, making you whimper at the feeling. “All yours, Joon.”

“All mine,” he repeated, finally breaking out of his trance and meeting your stare. Namjoon was probably stressed out of his mind, and you just managed to turn all that negative energy into pure sexual stamina. Not that you were complaining. “Want you to lay down for me, baby.”

You did not hesitate to do as he requested, moving around the large circular bed and placing your head against the soft pillows. There was a fire of expectation burning at the pit of your stomach and accumulating between your thighs, which only grew as you watched your boyfriend undress for you.

Namjoon was quick and objective with his movements and soon enough he was naked, his golden skin shining under the warm lights and his big cock standing erect and flushed, ready for you. Just by looking at him you could feel your walls clenching, a sigh perishing on your lips at the memory of his member inside you, stretching you out like no one else could. Your boyfriend didn’t only have one of the biggest dicks you had ever seen, but he also knew how to use it — a dangerous combination that mostly explained why you couldn’t walk straight after a good night by his side. Again: not that you were complaining.

The mattress dipped under his weight, your eyes following his movements as Namjoon placed himself between your legs. His eyes were hungry and focused, more than you had seen in a while, and when he commanded you to “Open your legs for me, love,” you couldn’t obey fast enough.

Namjoon hummed in content as he leaned down between your thighs, one finger lazily dragging upwards between your soaked folds. He barely touched you, but you were so on the edge that the motion was enough to make you sigh. “Such a pretty cunt,” he said, and the finger moved back down, tenderly rubbing around your sensitive entrance. You flinched at the feeling, biting on your lip to suppress a moan. “So wet for me. Did you touch yourself while I was gone, baby?”

There was no reason to lie, he would know regardless. “Yes, but only once.”

It was true: after Namjoon had stopped contacting you, you were so scared that you didn’t even think about anything sexual — nor were you in the right mindset for that.

He seemed to like your response, humming for a moment before he took a second digit to your entrance — never going in, though, only teasing its surroundings. “Was it good, baby?”

You knew exactly what he wanted to hear, “Not as good as you,” you said, leaning on your elbows so you could hold his gaze better. Namjoon was looking at you like a starved man, and you knew it was just a matter of time before his own self-control ran thin. “Your cock is so much better.”

He chuckled — a deep, melodious chuckle that sent heat straight to your core. “Needy girl,” he said, gaze flickering towards your face. “I can’t give it to you just like that. What’s the fun in doing something so fast? You have to earn my cock.”

Patience was not a virtue you shared with your boyfriend, though, and that was why Namjoon loved to push you to the limits of your self-restraints. You had been foolish to think that things would be different just because he missed you. “How?” You asked, ready to do whatever he asked.

Namjoon hummed, pretending to think for a moment. His fingers left your opening behind and he moved closer to your pussy, taking a long look at it before saying, “Cum on my tongue and I’ll think about giving it to you.”

Before you could even think about what to respond, his mouth was on you and your head was spinning. Namjoon repeated the same motions of his fingers — licking a thick stripe up your folds and then back down, protruding the wet muscle against your entrance, swirling his tongue around it. You whimpered at the feeling, body crashing against the bed and fingers intertwining on his hair as he decided to move back up, lips wrapping around your clit as he gave you a gentle suck, humming when you started to moan out his name.

“Right there, please,” you asked, your voice nothing but a pathetic plea.

Namjoon, however, was marching to the beat of his own drum. He ignored your request and neglected your clit so his mouth could return to your opening, this time allowing his tongue inside you, drinking every drop of wetness you were giving him. A tremulous breath got caught in your throat when he pressed two of his fingers on your hole, coating it with his saliva before plunging in.

You cried out, your back arching off the mattress as he continued with his ministrations; his fingers stretching you out as his mouth returned to play with your clit. Namjoon had you the way he liked it: a hot mess sprawled on the bed, seeking your high like it was the most important thing in the world. And he, of course, wouldn’t mind giving it to you as many times as you wanted it.

The sounds you were making were lewd, mixing with the noises of his fingers pumping in and out of your clenching heat. Namjoon was only human: his cock was so hard that he was losing his mind, and the gorgeous sight of you fumbling under his touches was making him wish you could just cum so he could fuck the soul out of you.

And because you two were in sync, that was exactly what you did. Namjoon watched in awe as you came around his digits, tightening around him so perfectly that he swore he was about to spill himself on his pristine white sheets. But he managed to keep it together as you continued to roll your pussy against his face, milking the last drops of your orgasm as your wetness dripped down his fingers.

Namjoon moved away when you started to produce those high-pitched whimpers that signaled your sensitivity. He climbed up over you and crashed his lips on yours, humming as your tongues danced together, filling your mouth with your own taste. His cock was enlarged and heavy against your lower body, barely brushing on your sensitive clit.

He pulled away so he could speak, his voice was a devilish low groan swimming in the hot air. “Want my cock inside you, baby?”

You were spent already, both of you knew that, and yet there was no hesitation in your tone when you promptly answered with a timid, “Yes, please.”

No matter how much you loved Namjoon’s mouth and fingers on you, there was nothing in the world that could compare to the feeling of having his cock thrusting inside you, filling you up so perfectly. You could fight against a bit of pain, you had done that a few times already, and you knew how fast your boyfriend was to turn everything back into pleasure.

“Can you cum again for me?” He asked, lowering his hand so he could align himself with your pussy. You swallowed at the brushing of his head against your hole, heartbeat quickening in anticipation. “Can you do one more, baby?”

You nodded, looking deep inside his eyes. “Yes, as many times as you want.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Namjoon spoke gently, honest as ever. He leaned in and kissed you slowly, savoring the caresses of your lips as he sighed against the kiss. “You’re too good for me.”

And then he was pushing himself inside you, spreading you open like he was meant to be there, filling you up to the brim. You heaved and held to his shoulders as Namjoon reached incredibly deep inside you, getting used to his size. No matter how many times he fucked you, every time still felt like the first.

“Fuck, your pussy feels perfect, like it was made for me,” he cursed, slowly thrusting inside you. You whimpered at the delicious drag of his cock against your walls, already experiencing the switch of pain to pleasure. “Keep your legs up for me, baby.”

You could only nod, pushing your legs to the level of your chest. That small change was enough to give Namjoon just a bit more space to slip into, a grunt exploding on his throat.

“Joon,” you called. Namjoon looked up at you, his eyes dazed and unfocused. “Fuck me, please.”

That was all that he needed. Self-control long forgotten, Namjoon buried his face on the crook of your neck and went to town — fucking you so fast and hard that you swore you had never moaned so loud in your life. Suddenly, everything was becoming too much: the bouncing of your breasts, the pressure of his hands on your thighs, the drilling of his hard cock inside you. Every worry you had those past few weeks were washed away just like that, barely an echo at the bottom of your head.

Namjoon was a mess above you, grunting and moaning out as his cock fucked you open, your walls clenching around him like you were his personal brand of heaven. “Fuck, you feel so tight,” he cried out, already recognizing that familiar pressure at the base of his spine. “Such a perfect pussy for me, baby.”

“Feels so good, Joon,” you said back, tugging at his hair. “Look at me.”

It seemed to take him an herculean amount of force, but Namjoon did as you requested, meeting that fucked-out gaze he adored so much. “What is it?”

You smiled tenderly at him, a timid moan falling from your lips. “I love you.”

Now Namjoon was absolutely sure that he was in paradise, floating in the clouds above. He could not hold back the smile that crossed his face. “I love you too, baby.” He kissed you. “Are you close?”

You nodded. “Really close.”

“Cum on my cock for me, then,” he urged you on, not stopping with his advances. He felt so good inside you; your mind was consumed by all of him: his smell, his warmth, the deepness of his voice and the lust in his gaze. At that moment, Namjoon was everything in the world for you. “Come on, I wanna feel it.”

And you did as he requested, clenching around his cock not even two minutes later. You sobbed and whimpered at the feeling, calling out his name again and again until Namjoon found his own high, spilling himself inside you, milking his cock in your pussy until you were full of him. He thrusted a few more times, trying to make that moment last a bit longer, and he only stopped once he started to grow soft inside you.

Namjoon turned around and crashed next to you on the mattress, his arm curling around your waist as you fumbled closer to him. With a happy sigh, you nestled against his chest, drowning in his warmth as his fingers caressed your skin.

The instant of peace was glorious, and you had almost started to drift away into a tranquil sleep when his voice broke the silence. “I’m gonna have to travel again next week,” he said.

Your heart started hammering against your chest, stomach curling in anxiety. You raised your head from his chest and stared at Namjoon, your lips opening and closing before you finally found your voice. “But… You just got home.”

“I know, that’s why you’re coming with me.” He smirked. You must’ve shown him the most confused expression, because Namjoon could not hold back his laugh. “It’s not business, baby, don’t worry. You and I are just going to have some well-deserved time together. How does that sound?”

Relief washed over you for the second time that night, calming your anxiety instantly. “Amazing,” you admitted, resting yourself back against him. You could really use a vacation, you didn’t know the last time you had a proper one. And even better if it was with him. “Thank you, Joon.”

“I should be the one thanking you.” He breathed out. The caresses on your skin were calling the sleepiness back into your body, and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you floated into the land of dreams. It has been a long time since you had a proper night of sleep — you had been too restless waiting for his return. “I know this is really hard for you. You know I’d understand if you wanted to leave.”

You smiled lovingly, placing a kiss against his chest. “It’s worth it if it’s for you,” you mumbled.

And you knew he felt the same.

#bts smut #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #bts x reader #bts x you #smut #fluff #angst #namjoon fluff #kim namjoon #criminal au #bts au #namjoon au #x you #x reader #reader insert

942 notes · View notes

lumisfiction · 3 years

Text

Just For Tonight

Kakashi x Black Reader

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Kishimoto, gif not mine found on the internet.

Warning: Black Reader Insert, fluff

Part 1

****Part Two*****

Y/n’s house was the most enchanting place in all the Hidden Leaf, four miles into a secluded forest lay a stone path with handcrafted lanterns along it. The forest that surrounded it was filled with every color of wild flower that Kakashi had ever seen. It was as if he was no longer in the village, like he’d stepped into another world, y/n’s world. A world of fireflies, sun flowers, moon flowers, roses of every color, and lilies. A pastel painting with a deep green undertone of the entire forest. All around him were arches, tall trees with branches that entwined with evening birds perched on them singing their evening hymn. The dim light of moon peaking through illuminating the walk way. If it hadn't been for Sasuke and Naruto he would have never found this place.

Tugging eagerly at his vest Naruto guided him farther until they came to a large clearing. The moon and stars were brighter as it reflected on the surface of the small pond in front of them. It seemed all matter of creatures came out tonight in celebration of y/n, the sounds around him growing louder. A pleasant loudness that blended with the atmosphere of the pond and on its surface glowing lotuses glided past. Naruto reached down and picked one up, crystal liquid pooling over his small fingers. Kakashi watches as its blue light dimly lights the boy's youthful face. He looked his age then, like a child who held the most precious thing in the world. “These are her favorite” cupping it delicately Naruto presented his hands to him. “I know you came last minute Kakashi sensei, you can bring this as a gift” Naruto grinned a mischievous glint in his eye. “A gift” Kakashi scratched the back of his neck, painfully aware of his unpreparedness. In his haste to cheer Naruto up he’d forgotten that he just returned from a mission. His clothes were dirty and his hair was grimy. “I think a gift is the least of my concern” Kakashi pulled at his filthy pants, he could fill the dirt under his fingernails. He thought about y/n then how pretty she would look and her face when she saw him. It would be their first official meeting and this is what she’ll see. Her first impressions forever skewered by his dirty attire. It made his hands tremble and he felt heat rush throughout his body, a nervousness swelling somewhere deep within him. Nervous to meet y/n, like a school boy who finally gets to spend time with his crush.

Sasuke looked behind him observing a riled up Kakashi. Even in the moonlight and a half exposed face he knew exactly what his tinted cheeks meant. “She shouldn’t be home yet, you can freshen up once we get there” his arms practically spilling over with an assortment of flowers. Kakashi looked over at Sasuke sighing, was he that easy to read? How long has it been since he was social? Was he so out of touch that he couldn't even manage to hide his emotions from a prepubescent boy.

His mind wandered off again as he began to contemplate his decision to attend. It was all too sudden, what if he made of a fool of himself? Or worse what if he isn't welcomed? Thoughts were spinning around and round his head so much so that a scowl returned to his face and his exposed brow scrunched. His inner conflict occupied all of his attention so much so he hadn't noticed Sasuke making kissing noises. Not until the boy began to tease him childishly.

"Kakashi and y/n sitting in a tree k.i.s.s.i.n.g" Sasuke relentlessly teased Kakashi with a child-like twinkle in his eyes. It was perplexing, the cool headed vengeful Sasuke was the polar opposite of his former self. Laughing and smiling as he bent down to pick even more flowers along the water. Stopping to look them over and disregard the flowers he no longer wanted.

It was so out of character for him that Kakashi hadn't noticed he was gawking. “He always brings her freshly picked flowers” Naruto came into view with a smug look on his face. Kakashi hadn’t noticed until tonight how different with her in their life they had become. How both of them practically morphed into children right before his eyes. Naruto was feather light and cheerful while Sasuke was playful, thoughtful, and happy. They look so innocent he almost forgot they were shinobi, genin who’d soon participate in the chunin exams. He recounted to himself a time when he looked like them. When he too was happy and innocent. Just a boy and his father.

All of them fell in a silent stride as they began walking again. Crossing over a small bridge that brought them to their destination at last. Willow trees and what seemed like a thousand fireflies greeted them. There at the foot of the path stood the most beautiful wooden arch with yellow flowers twisting around it's bark. Dangling loosely from it a chipped wooden sign that read "Happy Birthday y/n. “I made that” Naruto’s face gleamed with all the pride of a not so masterful craftsman as he pointed his finger in the direction of if. Sasuke scoffed as he remarked how tacky he thought it looked. With an ego as big as his competition he stated how much better his lanterns were in comparison. Naruto glared at Sasuke, his eyes sharp as he retaliated with an insult of his own. There was no end to it, both of them going on and on about what y/n liked best. It was driving Kakashi a little crazy, having to go on missions with their insistent contest was one thing, but this was a whole other sort of annoying. The kind that made him so irritated that all the cool level headed temperament in the world couldn’t prevent the annoyed look on his face. He thought about home and his warm recliner. The green hardback book that he so often read to indulge his perverted mind. The faint feeling of heat coursing throughout his slightly reddening cheeks. What he wouldn’t give to go back in time and stick to his original plan. A plan that didn't involve two rowdy brats.

The house was a deep oak red with hints of a darker brown. It was large with a stairway above it that led to a smaller house. It had flags and a large telescope pointing toward the eastern sky.

The entire estate was homely and welcoming, the yard embedded with an even more alluring green. Fresh cut grass and lanterns that spread about it illuminating everything in its path. Nothing could make this scene before him more stunning he thought to himself as he looked all around in awe.

She descended from the steps, the most beautiful sight of all, Y/n. Her raven coils shining in the moonlight and her skin glistening like the surface of a smooth diamond. She was most certainly magical, the tail of her white dress flowing behind her when she walked a smooth glide only a goddess would have.

"Y/n" as fast as their feet would carry them Naruto and Sasuke ran to her open arms ruining her pretty dress even though she didn't seem to mind. She embraced them with a hug that only a mother would give her beloved children. When they parted Sasuke was the first to present his gift, a bouquet of wild flowers "Happy Birthday y/n". Her face lit up as she leaned over to kiss his exposed forehead and his face become even more redder than before.

From the distance where Kakashi stood he saw the pearls her pretty teeth, her full lips lifting the bones of her cheeks. The way her breast sat prettily in her clothes and the playful glint in her almond eyes. She seemed to get prettier as he came closer and his eye drifted downward and then up again taking in her full form. All of his former reservations escaped him,his heart thudding in his chest as he made his way closer. Yes, Just for tonight he'll indulge himself.

Author Notes: Trying to decide if this should just be a three part or more series. Next chapter will be released soon and it will contain light smut. Thank you for all your support!

#naruto x poc!reader #x black reader #black y/n #black writers #kakashi x poc reader #black reader #naruto #naruto x reader #naruto x y/n #kakashi x reader

96 notes · View notes

riaimm · 3 years

Text

chapter 139, rivetra;

i’m not surprised that levi survived, not at all. levi never gave up, he made a vow. not just to erwin, but to all of his fallen comrades. all of his soldiers who had faith in him. who could possibly save them if not captain levi?

he said it himself, that he’d eradicate all of the titans, he’d use their strength to push him forward. how could people possibly think that he’d die or give up on them? he—humanity’s strongest—was the last one standing. it was inevitable, i have a feeling he knew it was a possibility.

regardless, it was him who people depended on. he knew they were watching him. they dedicated their hearts to the cause and levi didn’t fail them. i can’t believe some of y’all really lost faith in him.

speaking of faith, let’s talk about petra’s devotion to levi for the last time before the manga is officially over.

i’ve thinking about how proud petra looks here. their love is so deep and they undoubtedly had one of the strongest bonds.

she had complete faith in his leadership and his strength, she was loyal to him not just because she knew him so well and loved him (which we learn from souyoku no hikari) but because she knew in her heart that he’d be the one to guide them beyond the walls. that devotion wasn’t meaningless obsession, it wasn’t just some schoolgirl crush, she could see it. she says so herself, “we made it this far without a doubt of what you could do.”

“but you take them upon your own back, those wings, both white and tattered black. with the strength of those wings, you would do anything to lead us all beyond this forsaken place.” i believe that even though she did die with one last regret, she died trusting him.

she’d die and he’d shoulder her wings, using her strength just like the others to move forward and guide them beyond the walls. and he DID!! and she’s so proud of him.

she says so herself that she’d follow the captain anywhere regardless of how dangerous the mission is, she believed she was in the best of hands. she truly trusted him with her life.

levi was petra’s hope, she didn’t just fight for him but for the world that they could discover outside the walls. the world that he’d bring them to. and she was ready to risk her life fighting alongside him for that dream.

the dream he swore he’d deliver to them.

petra had seen it long before he made his vow to that dying soldier. she saw what others didn’t. she saw the potential, yet she also saw him as human, flawed, and imperfect. she saw his flaws, accepted them, and still loved him. he was still captain levi, humanity’s savior to her. but he was also just a man.

i believe they saw each other as equals.

she spoke freely with him, she opposed him and went against his commands, she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. and levi never responded to that with anger.

petra wanted to protect levi, not just because of her loyalty to him but because she loved him. she protested when he sent her to tend to the wounded soldier instead of letting her fight, she was probably used to fighting alongside him as his support. in that moment, they both wanted to protect each other.

when eren transformed, petra was more focused on levi’s safety than whether eren was a traitor or not. levi seemed relatively calm during the situation and wasn’t surprised or offended when petra told him to back away. he let her get away with that. he wasn’t aggressive with her, he wasn’t angry that she wasn’t listening, he simply told her to stand down.

in aot2, levi tells petra that he trusts her completely. in aot tactics it’s revealed that he exempted petra from a very harsh training exercise. she’s also the only one who can clean to levi’s standards in one go. he shows some sort of favoritism towards her.

there is a video of levi and petra discussing eren, he values her opinion on the matter and we see this on multiple other occasions. for example, her debut scene. he asks her if she thinks he heard his promise, she says yes. another example of this would be when he asked her to teach him how to bake.

and with eren, she feels so comfortable talking about levi so lovingly, she feels comfortable talking about his past, his flaws, etc. they clearly had a strong bond if she felt like she was able to do that. OR she was just a huge gossip. i like to think both are true :)

i think the fact that petra already admired him for his skill, bravery, etc. and the fact that they had worked together before forming the squad contributed to them seeing each other as equals. because of that, she was able to learn more about him and understand him beyond a surface level, in a way that even many fans still don’t.

and i think all of that together contributed to how much she trusted him.

even after she died, she was front and center in his memories. which is a huge deal. we were looking through levi’s perspective, he saw her in the front, smiling back at him. his memory of her was clear even after four years without her. he never forgot her. this is different when compared to hanji seeing her comrades after they got the plane to fly. petra wasn’t as detailed, more focus was put on nanaba, moblit, and erwin.

yet in levi’s memories, it was petra. kind, strong, loving, devoted petra.

and in petra’s mind—well—we already know she wanted to marry him. she was in love with him, after all!

i know this was just an incoherent rant, but these two mean so much to me, i’m sad that snk is ending without any confirmation but i’m glad that isayama provided so much content for them. i’m sorta glad he left it up to interpretation. but i wish he had confirmed it just to spite the antis that we had to put up with for eight years.

rivetra is so special to me, i’m thankful for this fandom and for the manga for allowing me to have a good experience with this ship! i had so much fun loving this ship and even though the manga is over, it doesn’t mean we have to stop shipping it! we still have the anime to look forward to! i’m excited to see mappa style petra :)

#rivetra analysis #shingeki no kyojin #snk #attack on titan #aot #petra ral #levi ackerman #captain levi #levi heichou #eld jinn #gunther schultz #auruo bossard #snk 139 #rivetra #snk spoilers

285 notes · View notes

wkemeup · 4 years

Text

Little Lion Man

summary: Sent on an assignment back to 1943, you encounter a drastically different version of the man you know pairing: bucky x reader warnings: time travel, a charming af 40s!bucky 😉, a sad af present!bucky 😔 a/n: I used the time travel logic from Endgame except fixed points exist. This was also written for @buckysknifecollection‘s 1k challenge! I had the song prompt of Little Lion Man by Mumford and Sons! Congrats on 1k hun!!

Weep little lion man, You're not as brave as you were at the start

You found blue eyes lighting up across the crowded courtyard, beaming smile touched on the dirt freckled glow of his face, and it startled you; stilled you right in your tracks and set a stone deep into your chest, made it hard to breathe, because that wasn’t the man you knew.

No—he wore a weightlessness about him, even as he stepped away from the crowd erupting in celebration and shied to the outskirts of the commotion, he was smiling. It wrinkled up by his eyes, left behind dimples in his cheeks, a slight shake of his head as small wisps of hair fell down to his forehead.

He didn’t seem to be counting each moment of joy on his fingers, calculating how much relief he allowed for himself before the shadows came rushing back in to take it away. He was... happy.

Dark army green was torn like rags as his shirt barely hung off his shoulder, exposing the blood and grime covering his skin beneath. Silver dog tags hung at his sternum; muted in their color, lacking the shine they once possessed, though they chimed against one another with each of his steps. He settled outside the Colonel’s tent and as he slouched to the wooden post, they fell behind his shirt. The last remaining tie to his identity nestled by his heart.

You could spot the trail of blood from his left ear, a light scruff covering his cheeks and jawline, bruising under his eyes from a lack of sleep and over exhaustion, but it was his hair that drew your attention; short, swept over his forehead and parted to the right. Its messy strands that did nothing to cover his eyes even as he dropped his chin to his chest and lit the cigarette he’d nestled between his lips.

You knew who he was, heard stories from Steve and read the articles hung in the Smithsonian; stories of what he was like in his youth, before the fall, before Hydra twisted and warped his mind and mutilated his body. And yet, none of it prepared for the laugh that echoed through the courtyard as he waved at an old friend at the center of the crowd surrounded by men who once mocked him, now lifting him on their shoulders for bringing hundreds of their men home alive.

It was him, and it wasn't.

Your Bucky.

You almost forgot why you were standing on a military base in a newly Allied Italian war front in 1943 as Bucky shook the hand of a soldier as he passed by. You recognized him from the drawings on Steve’s desk and the old faded photo album shoved into Bucky’s nightstand drawer.

Dum Dum Dugan.

He was taller than you pictured, rougher around the edges too, but he had a kind smile and a laughter that bolstered through the camp.

It was like a scene from the film clips they used to show you in school; ones of soldiers huddled around campfires in the middle of a war zone, reminding you how incredibly human these men were, that they weren’t just numbers in a fatalities list. They were real and significant in their entirety. They had hopes and dreams, fears and families.

Focus! This isn’t a field trip, you reminded yourself sharply, the words of Director Fury echoing in your head.

There was a file located in the Colonel’s office, the contents of which well above your clearance level, though it wasn’t your business to know what it contained or why Fury decided to risk sending an agent back to a war two of the Avengers’ current members barely survived. You were a part of SHIELD long before you were an Avenger, so you knew how to follow the chain of command. You didn’t ask questions.

Get the file. Get the hell home.

But you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Bucky.

He was laughing again, taking another drag of a cigarette you’d never once seen him smoke in your time as he talked with another one of the Commandos. Jim Morita, you thought. He seemed happy, relieved even, and as Jim made his way to the nurses’ tent, Bucky pushed the lighter into his pocket, pulled the cigarette from his lips with a puff of smoke, and paused.

He narrowed his eyes in your direction, a slight tilt of his head, and you realized your mistake when ocean blue caught you staring from across the open green. A smile slowly curved up broken lips and your stomach plummeted because suddenly he was jogging towards you, dog tags bouncing against his chest with every step he took and there was nowhere for you to escape.

You shoved your gun to the waistband of your pencil skirt and draped the back of your jacket to conceal it. It wouldn’t be surprising for you to be carrying a weapon, not with the uniform you wore indicating you were on rank with the likes of Peggy Carter, but it wasn’t a gun Bucky would recognize. It was from your time, one you did not ever travel without, and the technological advancements wouldn’t be easy to explain.

When Bucky reached you, he pulled to a slow stop and casually ran his fingers through the short mess of hair, pushing it back to expose his eyes, the dirt lining the creases in his forehead, and the bruising above his brow. He tugged his lower lip between his teeth as he looked you over, eyes trailing down to your shoes before returning to your face, a heavy sigh on his breath and he leaned on the wall beside you.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you around, doll,” he said and even the tone of his voice seemed different from the man you knew. Lighter, maybe. Confident. Flirtatious.

He smirked, a whistle on his tongue and he seemed a little winded as he shook his head. You wondered if he felt your connection to him, knew the depths of your care for one another before he’d even met you, but you pushed the thought aside quickly.

Wistful thinking.

“Don’t think you’ve been around for a while, Sergeant,” you replied steadily, because even though your heart was racing and your stomach was twisted to knots, you were still an agent and you knew how to manage your emotions and keep your panic hidden behind the surface.

“I guess you saw the welcome wagon, huh?” he chuckled, turning back to the crowd as they continued to gather around Steve.

It was almost as strange to see Steve from this time as it was Bucky. He had the same kind of innocence that the Bucky standing before you carried now. He hadn’t lost his best friend yet, hadn’t made the decision to trade his life for the people of New York and bury himself in the Atlantic, hadn’t missed out on a lifetime with a woman he cared so deeply for, could even grow to love.

Bucky faced you again and you saw it in his eyes, too.

It was hope, you realized. They were still holding onto it.

“Just glad you made it home safe, Sergeant Barnes,” you said evenly, trying not to focus on his left hand as it raked it through his hair. There was a scar on his palm that ran along his lifeline, red and angry and in need of treatment. There was dirt caked under his nails, in his knuckles, dried blood on his wrist, and you resisted every urge to reach out and grab it just to feel the pulse of his heart in his fingertips or maybe even the warmth of his skin.

You were used to cold and metal and you let yourself wonder what it would be like to be held by these hands, hands that were completely and entirely Bucky’s, hands that he didn’t despise and held away from you like it was something outside of himself, like it could act of its own accord and hurt the woman he wanted so desperately to touch with nothing but a tenderness he hadn’t known in decades.

“Please doll, it’s Bucky,” he requested cheekily. He waited for a response, though when he didn’t get one, he was unbothered by the silence.

He twisted the cigarette in his hand, twirling it like a baton and you were mesmerized by the way it danced through the fingertips of his left hand. It dropped ash as it flipped between his middle and index finger.

“So...” he drawled, amused by your trance, “do I have the honor of your name as well?”

You snapped your eyes away from his hand to find that smirk across his face again. It was one that felt strange to you, foreign almost, from the Bucky you knew. It was confident, charming, but there wasn’t a trace of arrogance or presumption. It was the smirk of a man who could still manage to flirt with a woman moments after returning to a camp he was captured from weeks prior. He was quite proud of himself and it read on his face.

“Y/n,” you finally admitted, watching him carefully as he repeated your name, testing it on his lips, and it still sounded like honey and silk. It seemed to be one of the few things that felt constant between these versions of Bucky; your name on his lips, in his voice, as he smiled at you. It was still as sweet.

“Y/n is a lovely name,” he said, “suiting for a lovely woman.”

Steve had mentioned this Bucky was a charmer in stories of their youth. Each time it was brought up, your Bucky would shake his head, roll his eyes, maybe even blush a little as he sank down into the couch as Steve recounted the dates he used to go on, the women he’d bring to Coney Island, the dance moves that could make any woman swoon.

You’d ask him about it, tease him as to why he didn’t take you dancing and win you comically large stuffed animals with his unparalleled marksmanship. He’d brush it off and say it was all luck of the draw but you know better than that. He was a flirt in these days and as handsome as ever, even with blood dripping from his ear and scars on his face. You couldn’t imagine a woman who would turn down a man as charming and beautiful as he was.

You wondered how much Bucky remembered of these days, if he could still recall the one-liners and the flirty comments, or if it felt distant, like he was watching something outside of himself, standing behind a glass wall and simply observing.

He was sweet with you, teased you behind closed doors and made your heart soar, but you couldn’t imagine a world where he would seek you out amongst a crowd, not knowing your name or face and flirt so openly like this.

Your Bucky retreated to corners of crowded rooms with a drink in his hand that did little to relieve him from the anxiety in his veins. He nursed a bourbon as he sought out open spaces away from the overstimulation of music, chatter, glasses on bar tops.

He was quiet, reserved, and favored whispering jokes in your ear that would have you rolling with laughter over saying them aloud for the room to hear. There was an intimacy in it and you were thankful for every glimpse he gave you past the demons who had come to obstruct his heart.

But this, this Bucky, the light-hearted charmer with a world of pain ahead of him, was not a man you ever expected to encounter firsthand.

Over his shoulder, a group of men called his name. He rolled his eyes, trying to wave them off but they only yelled louder, hollering and whistling as he tried to shield you from their teasing.

“I suppose I’m being summoned,” he grunted reluctantly.

You glanced back to his friends, Dugan, Jim, and Steve among them as they waved frantically at him. A smile etched to your cheeks, knowing that this was his element, beside Steve when he didn’t have the shadows cast over him and he could live in a moment where he just might see himself as one of the good guys.

“Yes, I suppose you are,” you smiled at him, enjoying the way his brows pinched together as he shot a glare back over in his friends’ direction before he turned back to you and let his features soften again.

“Will I see you around?” he asked, hopeful and eager, and it took you by surprise.

You didn’t know what else to say so you nodded, eyes glancing to the Colonel’s office. You had a mission to complete. It was the reason you were sent back to this timeline in the first place. It had caused enough problems when Fury assigned you; Steve arguing as to the necessity of it, Bucky leaving the room abruptly without another word. You hadn’t even been able to track him down before you left and you’d never once gone on a mission without saying goodbye to him.

You supposed that for him it may only be a few seconds, but you didn’t know how long you’d be stuck in 1943. You missed him terribly, even when he was standing right in front of you.

“I’ll find you again, then,” he said with a wink. He put the cigarette between his lips again, thought he didn’t light it, and jogged back to his friends. He paused halfway, turned back to you with a simple salute, a shake of his head like he was surprised you’d gone along with his flirting, and then, his back was to you.

Tears burned in your eyes before you felt the lump in your throat.

For a moment, it was easy to forget that he was just coming off of weeks behind enemy lines, that he already had the serum running like toxins in his veins; the same Hydra concoction that would save his life when he fell from the train a few weeks later and would allow him to survive long enough to endure decades of torture.

You knew this Bucky carried demons, that he wore a mask the way everyone else did. You knew that there were times that he smiled just long enough for someone to notice before they turned away and his eyes fell downcast to the floor. You knew that he joked and flirted and laughed because how else was a man drafted to a war he never signed up for supposed to cope with the blood on his hands.

They were different masks than the ones the Bucky you knew carried, but they still shielded the pain underneath. The masks you were familiar with were overflowing and demons seeped through the cracks and broke into his soft moments of relief. They were weathered and breaking in your time but he still tried to wear them, still tried to put on a brave face despite the monsters in his dreams and swarming in his past.

This Bucky could still hide his demons.

This Bucky, who smiled so easily, was almost nothing like the man you knew.

But he will be.

Your heart broke for the time in between.

***

Seventy-two hours. That’s how long Fury said you’d need to obtain the file. Seventy-two hours maximum. A load of bullshit that turned out to be because two weeks later you were still trapped in the heart of a world war.

You’d managed to avoid Bucky as much as possible, though that proved rather easy as he’d gone off with Steve and the rest of the Howling Commandos liberating Europe and punching Nazis. But the times in between, when they returned home and regrouped for a day or two, he’d spend his first hour at camp seeking you out while the rest of his team was catching up on sleep.

He was persistent, you’d give him that, but he was never forceful. He’d simply talk with you as you tended to the tasks assigned to the cover you were portraying. He’d lounge out on the grass while you cleaned weapons or follow you through the bunker as you alphabetized personnel files, asking you questions about your day, trying to convince you to get dinner with him at the mess hall, telling you dramatically inflated stories of his heroism on the battlefield that made your stomach ache with laughter.

You understood why Steve was so determined to help Bucky get back to how he was before Hydra. He was incredibly endearing, outgoing, witty. Your Bucky still had those things but they were in pieces, strung together with scotch tape and staples. They were muted a little, but they were still there, scratching at the surface.

It had been a few days since you saw Bucky last and you found him again as you walked right into the square of his chest on your way out of the Colonel’s office, file absent in your hand because yet another day had gone by without any sign of the document.

Hands quickly dart out to grab onto your forearms and he chuckled lightly under his breath, steadying you on heels you were entirely not used to wearing; an era appropriate necessity, Tony told you. You would have like to throw one at his head right about then.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” Bucky grinned, stepping back to give you space.

He had a few new scrapes and marks on his face, but otherwise he looked unharmed. His smile was enough to tell you he hadn’t been injured enough to require medical attention. There wasn’t a pinch in his brow indicating pain, at least.

He brushed his hands off on the thighs of his pants and judging by the mud on his boots and the rifle draped over his shoulder, he hadn’t even made it back to his tent before he came in search of you.

“Of course, Sergeant Barnes,” you replied and despite the way he was smiling so sweetly at you, teeth biting down on his lip, you swerved around him towards your own tent.

“Call me Bucky,” he reminded you, stepping aside for you to pass, though he followed your pace.

“Well, Bucky,” you said, clenching your hands, “it’s good to see you safe. You should get to the med tent, don’t you think?”

“Later,” he shrugged, waving you off, cheesy smile on his lips. “I wanted to see my best girl first.”

It punctured right to your chest and though you knew he was teasing, that he was flirting innocently and smiling when he could be giving into the harsh realities of war, it hurt. It hurt because you saw pieces of your own Bucky in him and knives embedded and broken through skin with every laugh, every smile, every word he said, because you knew how quickly it will be taken away, how hard it will be just for him to find small pieces of this and let his guard down long enough to let even Steve in again, let alone you.

There was a guilt that festered and boiled deep in your stomach, that physically ached and burned. You knew too much about his future, about the things that will happen to him that would rip that sweet smile from his face and turn him inside out, until it took decades just to find the will to live again. You could hardly look at him without tears springing to your eyes.

You thought about telling him, about warning him of what would come and maybe create a new timeline where he was free from Hydra, where he might go home from the war and see his mother and sister again, maybe meet a woman he could love and have a few kids. But then you remembered Tony’s warning, that certain events were fixed and what happened to Bucky that day on the train, would never be changed. There was too much history riding on it.

Your sweet Bucky was fated to Hydra from the start.

"There’s a dance tonight, you know.”

Your heels dug into the grass and brought you to an abrupt stop, balance wavering somewhat as you held your arms out to the side. Bucky chuckled, that smile of his so bright it was almost blinding and he quickly jogged back to you. He offered a hand and you took it just long enough to pry your heels from the dirt.

You tried not to focus on the feel of it; the callouses on his palms or the grip of his fingers, the warmth in his hand or the fact that it was made of flesh and not solid metal. You let go as soon as you were able, though he didn’t seem to take any offense.

“Just a few of the guys are going,” he continued to say, pushing his hands into his pockets. He seemed nervous as he swayed in his stance and brushed his hand through his hair. “Thought it could be fun and, well, don’t know the next time I’ll get the chance to ask a pretty girl to dance with me.”

A pink rose in his cheeks, light and flushed, and it surprised you.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sergeant Barnes,” you said slowly, voice almost a whisper and his smile didn’t falter for even a moment.

“Bucky,” he reminded you again. So persistently charming.

“Bucky,” you repeated, “I don’t think it’s--”

“When was the last time you did somethin’ for fun, doll?” Bucky whined playfully, slumping his shoulders until you swatted him on the arm. He rubbed at it with a laugh in his voice. “I promise it’ll be a good time. You have my word.”

“I have work to attend to,” you argued, though your resolve was fading quickly. You never liked saying no to Bucky, even from your time, but it was the innocence, the hope, intertwined in shades of blue that made it that much harder.

“Come on, darlin’,” Bucky smiled sweetly at you, a crack in his lips and a bruising on his cheekbones, still as beautiful as he’s always been, “we’re shipping out to the Alps tomorrow and I don’t know when I’ll see you next. Just one dance, doll, and I swear I won’t ask you for anything else in my life.”

Your heart skipped. “The alps?”

Bucky nodded, pursing his lips. He lost his playful smile for only a minute as it melded into the solemn, determined expression of the soldier you’d seen memorials painted of alongside brick buildings in Brooklyn.

“We were able to confirm Zola’s on a Schnellzug traveling along the Danube River,” he said, quite proud. “We’re gonna bring the bastard in and put an end to this war.”

Your throat was dry, like sandpaper and dust, stones filling your chest, and you kept your features as blank as you could manage but everything inside you was on fire. He seemed so pleased, eager almost, and you felt your stomach lurch.

“Whaddya say?” he asked, a slight tremor in his voice for the first time and you turned to find him nervously chewing on his lip. “Fulfill a soldier’s dying wish?”

“Okay,” you blurted out hastily, biting down on the inside of your cheek because he didn’t know the gravity of what he just asked. You clenched your hands to fists at your side, nails digging into your palms until it stung, but you were well trained and you hid it from him before he could notice.

“I’ll pick you up at eight?” he asked, slowly backing up to his tent with the widest smile you’d ever seen on his face. It wrinkled up by his eyes and stretched into his cheeks. So light, so unburdened from horrors that had not yet warped and twisted their way through his mind and body.

“Okay,” you replied again, unable to say much of anything else for the lump in your throat was starting to choke you.

Bucky disappeared into the camp and you were left standing in the open; tears burning in your eyes, slipping down past your lashes and over your cheekbones, knowing that by this time the following day, he’d be in the hands of Hydra.

***

You located the file an hour before Bucky was meant to pick you up. It sat on the edge of your cot, watching you, because you weren’t signaling Tony that it was time for you to come home. No—you were adorning rouge to your lips and curling your hair the way you’d seen in the movies Bucky liked from his youth, the transmitter hidden in your bag under the mattress.

An emerald dress swung at your hips, one that you’d borrowed from one of the exceptionally kind nurses. She seemed to be the only one who wasn’t glaring at you from across the room for daring to take the attention of the famed Sergeant Barnes and insisted you wear it since she was on shift for the evening anyway.

You slipped into the heels, brushing down the skirt of the dress and caught one last look in the mirror. The sleeves hung off your shoulders, exposing collarbone and a faded scar along your clavicle from a mission in Brussels six months prior. Bouncing curls pinned up from your neck and bright red upon your lips, you looked like a painted model in the posters hanging in the bar hall.

You wondered how your Bucky would feel to see you like this, if it would make him happy to be reminded of his youth, or if it would bring back memories too painful to let stir to the surface.

A knock rang on the post outside and you quickly pushed the file into your bag at the end of your bed. Out of sight and out of mind, at least for the next few hours.

“You ready, doll?” Bucky called from outside the tent as you started to make your way to the exit. “Steve’s been breaking my back all day saying you weren’t gonna show and I really need to prove him wro— oh wow.”

You stepped out from behind the flap of the tent, ducking under the low hanging ceiling and Bucky’s words seemed to die on his tongue. He pulled a lip between his teeth and eyes glanced down over you; not with a hunger, but instead with a genuine kind of awe. His smile was aching on his cheeks as he tried to bite it back.

“You look stunning,” he exhaled, shaking his head. “You’ll be the envy of every dame at the dance.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Sergeant,” you replied.

He wore his dress greens; dark olive overcoat with golden buttons down the center, two pockets at the breast, two at his hips, golden tie around his neck and a series of military badges in bright, vibrant colors along the right side of his chest. He looked like the images you’d seen in the Smithsonian; the man he tried so desperately to emulate; the one with honor and dignity, he said.

Bucky offered you his arm, and you took it graciously. Your hand slipped around the crook of his elbow, holding onto muscle where you once only know metal, and he guided you down to the jeep at the edge of camp. There, Steve, Dugan, Morita, and a few of the other Commandos were there waiting.

Steve stood against the door of the jeep, a woman you easily recognized in a dark red dress at his side; Peggy Carter. Steve seemed surprised to see you on Bucky’s arm, but when he hung his head, he was smiling, like maybe he was pleased to lose his own bet.

Bucky grinned, nudging your side before he turned to his friend. “Pay up Rogers!”

***

People were laughing, smiling, amongst the backdrop of a war that would almost certainly take the lives of half the men in this room. It was something of beauty to witness until it started to break your heart.

You’d spent nearly an hour on the dance floor with Bucky; letting him spin you around, lead you through dances you should have known if you had grown up in this era, though he paid it no mind. He liked teaching you, liked it when you stepped on his toes and grimaced apologetically at him. He liked seeing you flustered because you were not a woman who easily blushed. He enjoyed the twinge of embarrassment in your ears when you’d bump into a couple beside you and he’d quickly yank you back to his arms in a protective cage, the light rumble of his laugh in vibrations through his chest.

“I tried to tell you I’m no good at this, Bucky,” you said after a young couple on your left sent another glare in your direction for turning the wrong way in the middle of a Charleston Stroll.

“I don’t need you to be a good dancer, doll,” he smirked, pulling you impossibly close so that your chest was flush against his, the slow sway of your bodies in contrast to the fast-paced jives surrounding you. “All I wanted was an excuse to hold you like this.”

The music faded into long, melodic notes as your breath stilled in your lungs. The chaos around you fell into gentle motions as couples hung off of one another and the world seemed to come to a stop. You expected to find a teasing grin on his face, maybe even a hint of laughter, but there was sincerity in the blue of his eyes, a slight trace of longing because he knew what he was facing the next day on a train running through the ravines of a snowy mountain.

He smiled sweetly at you, carefully slipping your hand into his and guiding your other up to his shoulder. He set his right hand at the base of your back, fingers pressing into the soft curves like the keys of a piano, just feeling, and it reminded you of how your Bucky grounded himself in the worst of his nightmares; how he’d hold onto you, grip you so tightly he’d leave marks by the mornings that would ultimately add to his guilt, though they were colors on your skin you cherished. A physical symbol of his fight towards recovery.

You found yourself doing the same as you clasped at his left hand. With every dip of the beat and every sway of his body to yours, you squeezed at his hand; feeling for the slight give in the muscle, the warmth of flesh, the hard callouses on his palm. It was so real, so him, so tangible right in front of you and you felt tears prickle in your eyes.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” he asked quietly, noticing the trail of your gaze on his hand and the glossiness consuming your eyes.

You shook your head, brushing away the wetness on your cheeks and setting your hand back to his shoulder, though this time you curled up closer to him, focusing on the steady beat of his heart under his fingertips. “Nothing, honey.”

“’Honey’?” he repeated, chuckling a little under his breath. “You getting sweet on me, doll?”

You smiled, letting your head rest onto his shoulder, cheek brushing his collarbone. His hand started to run in smooth circles on your back, his nails traces shivering into your spine. It was something your Bucky did for you, to help ease the tension from your muscles.

“’Course not,” you replied in a breathy sigh, “I’ve got a fella, you know.”

"You don’t dance with me like you’ve got a man waiting on you,” Bucky retorted cheekily, though there was no jealousy in his voice, no resentment. He didn’t seem surprised, but he didn’t pull away either. He sighed, a heat of his breath brushing over your exposed neckline. “Tell me about him?”

You lifted your head from his shoulder, just long enough to caught sight of the tenderness with which he watched you. The corners of his lips curved up, only a little, before they fell again.

On some level, you wondered if he knew that he would never find even a semblance of normalcy in returning home from war, that he’d never settle down in the time that he knew and grow old and have children running around at his feet; that instead of showing up on his mother’s doorstep with bags in hand and a smile of relief, it would be two men dressed in uniform even he didn’t know, carrying an envelope that would break his mother’s heart.

You squeezed his left hand again, letting your right trace up along his jawline and cup the side of his face. He sighed, leaning into the touch. Clean shaven and smooth on his cheeks, decades younger.

“He’s a good man, even on his worst days,” you said tenderly. “He’s been through... so much, things that no one should ever have to experience. Anyone else might have crumbled under all that pain, but he’s still kind, still loving and impossibly sweet. He’s the best thing to ever happen to me though he argues against that most days.”

Bucky nodded, listening quietly as you continued.

“He’s handsome, like you, though his hair is longer, his shoulders a little broader with muscle,” you teased lightly and Bucky scoffed, feigning an offense, though he was smiling. “He’s quiet, different than he used to be, and there are always setbacks, always days where the pain outweighs all the good in his life, but doesn’t give into it. He’s a fighter, a survivor. He’s my best friend.”

“He take you dancing?” Bucky asked with a grin and you shook your head.

“No, not like this. Crowds aren’t easy for him.”

“He one of ours?”

A military man. He knew exactly what you were alluding to, so you nodded.

“Parts of him never came back from the war,” you confirmed, a frown pushing at your lips, “but he’s not broken. He’ll dance with me in the living room if I ask, let me hold him like this even when he feels like a stranger in his own skin. He tries, he heals. I know how hard it is for him to open up and I’m grateful for every moment he can let his walls down, if even for a second, and he shows me pieces of who he used to be, pieces of who he still is.”

A silence passed over the two of you, the music and the sight shuffling of feet around you taking over as you curled into Bucky’s side.

Bucky, but not your Bucky.

“You love him?”

Your relationship with Bucky was messy and complicated. You slept in the same bed most nights, pressed against one another to fight off the demons in his sleep, but you’d never touched him intimately, never so much as kissed his lips no matter how many times you’d wanted to. You met him in the ring and sparred until you were both aching and sweating, until you collapsed to the mat and talked for hours just staring up at the rafters. You were the first person he sought out when returning from a mission and it was his name you shouted for when you were surrounded behind enemy lines.

But there were darker forces between you; ones that kept him from letting himself open up completely, that kept him on the edge from you because Hydra was still in his mind, still convincing him he wasn’t worth the good in his life and he didn’t deserve to be treated with the affection and care with which you showed him.

Even when he kept you at a distance, he still held pieces of your heart, exposed and vulnerable in the palm of his hand.

“Yes,” you whispered, eyes darting to the collar of his shirt because you couldn’t dare to look him in the eye. You felt him squeeze at your hand, patterns on your back, and he pressed you closer to his chest; so perceptive of the heartache in your voice.

“Sounds like you might want to get home to him, huh?”

You shook your head, feeling embarrassed. “What? No, of course not. I’m-- I’m here to dance with you, right? You’re shipping out tomorrow for the alps and I—I owe you a dance, Barnes.”

Bucky chuckled. “Sweetheart, we’ve been dancing for hours. Look around, everyone’s practically gone home for the night.”

You narrowed your eyes, surprised, until you scanned the room to find that he was right; the dance floor was near empty and the staff had already begun cleaning up the refreshments table. Only the pianist remained on the stage, playing gentle melodies while his bandmates placed their instruments in their cases. He smiled at you, a short wink before he turned back to the pages of his sheet music.

Steve and Peggy were sitting by the bar, talking quietly with one another, unbothered by the lateness or the lack of party guests and the absence of alcohol beside them. Jim and Dum Dum must have hitched their own rides home because they were nowhere in sight, though a few stray men swaying on unbalances legs stumbled by the door.

“I’d say this was a pretty nice last go of it all,” Bucky sighed, a genuine smile on his face. “Zola’s not a threat physically. Can’t imagine we’ll have too much trouble bringing him in, but you never know, right? I couldn’t pass up an excuse to bring a beautiful woman to a dance.”

You bit down on your cheek until blood pooled in your mouth. You swallowed it back, tasting of copper and it burned on the way down.

“Certainly can’t blame you for that,” you replied, forcing your voice as steady as you could manage.

The pianist slowly brought the song to an end, chiming on the high end of the keys before closing the lid and stepping away. Bucky sighed, a nod the indicated that the magic of the night had ended and he moved to step away, but your hands darted out to the sides of his face.

“You’ll get through this,” you said sternly, adamantly, because he needed to hear it. The confusion read on his face though he didn’t question you. “You’re strong, Bucky. You’re brave. Please remember that.”

He narrowed his eyes, brow furrowed, though he nodded slowly.

You stepped back suddenly, letting your hands fall away from his face. It was a gesture too intimate for the man standing in front of you, one you’d done countless times for the man he’d ultimately become, and while he didn’t flinch at the touch, it surprised him. Perhaps it was the heartbreak on your face, the guilt, that confused him most.

“I--I should go,” you said quietly. “Thank you for the dance, Sergeant Barnes.”

“The pleasure was all mine, doll,” he replied, a soft smile etching up onto his features.

He was so young, so untouched by the damages that would be inflicted upon him; even after he’d already been captured and held by the same men who would break him from the inside out, he still carried a hope about him. He was different at the start of it all.

You loaded into the back of the jeep and Bucky slid in beside you. He kept his hand at his side, didn’t try to push into your space because, after all, you had someone waiting on you, but you could see the twinge in his fingertips, how he ached to hold your hand. It broke your heart.

At the end of the night, he walked you back to your tent. Hands shoved deep into his pockets and a tight smile on his face, he asked, “will I see you again?”

You thought again about telling him the truth, warning him that he wouldn’t find his way home for nearly seven decades and when he did, he’d be a changed man in a time he didn’t know. It wouldn’t change anything. Your Bucky had always gone through the horrors of what Hydra inflicted on him and what you did in this time wouldn’t affect that.

“Of course,” you replied with a smile light on your lips though you forced it into your cheeks. He sighed of relief. “I’ll be here waiting when you get back.”

“What about your man?” he inquired, a teasing grin and a raise of his eyebrow.

“Don’t tell me you don’t believe in friendship, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Whatever you’ll give me, sweetheart,” he replied, smiling so wide it much have ached, and you tried to memorize the way it wrinkled up by the blue of his eyes. You wondered if you’d ever see him smile like that again, like the very act of it didn’t rip him to pieces.

You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, light and short, a feather’s touch, and you watched as a light pink flushed his face. A thumb brushed along his cheekbone to rid him of the lipstick staining on his skin, but he gently pushed your hand away.

“Let me brag a little to the guys, won’t you?” he laughed. It was a sound so sweet it threatened to tear you in two.

“Goodnight, Bucky,” you said slowly, stepping back to the tent.

He sighed, shaking his head as he took one final look at you, the last one he’d know for nearly seventy years. “Goodnight, Y/n.”

***

There were still tears in your eyes as you were pulled from between the cracks of space and time to land on the platform of the Avengers’ hanger in update New York.

Tony was down on your left, adjusting the buttons and levers on a massive computer board, slamming his hand against a faulty monitor until it shifted from a grainy static to a sharp input of bright green data. Steve was rushing up to you, already starting to remove the gear from your back and help you out of the suit. The file had slipped easily from your hand into Natasha’s and she was gone from the room before you even noticed, racing it off to Fury.

"Where is he?” you choked out, lump burning in your throat.

Steve paused for a moment, eyes flickering down to the floor because he must have seen the tears in your eyes. There was no need to specify. Steve knew exactly who you were looking for.

"The training room, I think.”

“Training room?” you repeated, surprised, eyes narrowed as Steve helped you slip your arm from the sleeve of the suit.

"He’s, um, he’s not coming, Y/n.”

“He always comes,” you insisted, peering up and over Steve’s shoulder to get a better look at the door, but they were still closed shut. There wasn’t a time since you’d joined the Avengers that Bucky wasn’t the last person you saw before you left and the first person you ran to when you came home.

Steve swallowed, continuing to work on your suit. “Y/n, the—the idea of you going back there, it wasn’t easy for him. You saw how he stormed out of the debriefing when Fury assigned you to this mission."

“He’s never not been here, Steve. Why would he--”

“Well for one,” Tony piped up, eyes still glued to the computer board, “he wasn’t entirely keen on shipping you back to the time where he was walking around with a brain that had yet to be thrown in a blender and a personality with a range wider than a pet rock."

You gritted your teeth, hands clenched to fists. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Tony shrugged, powering down the platform as Steve removed the last remaining panel from your suit, “just means that he’s probably sulking somewhere because only that idiot could be jealous of his own damn self.”

You looked to Steve who only bowed his head, lips pressed to an apologetic line, and suddenly, you took off running; sprinting across the room and shoulder shoved to the double doors at the exit. Neither Tony nor Steve were foolish enough to call after you, to believe that you’d stop for anything when it was Bucky you were running towards.

You passed by Sam in the living room, who pointed a finger to the gym, not even lifting his head from his cereal bowl. Clint waved from the couch, cheesy grin and all, before Wanda threw a pillow at him, hushing him as he tried to ask you how the mission went. It was all noise; nothing that you could hear when your focus was on Bucky.

When you made it to the gym, you found it to be empty, save for the distinct grunts in the far back corner, the slamming of fists against a sandbag, the labored breaths of a man in pain.

Bucky stood with his back to you, muscles evident under the thin layer of his navy t-shirt, sweat soaking through the fabric and clinging against him. His whole body utilized in every punch and you stood back and watched until he ultimately hit it too hard and the bag dislodged from the ceiling, falling to the ground and rolling next to two of the same. Sand poured from the hole he’d created.

Bucky groaned, brushing his hand over his forehead to rinse the sweat from his eyes. As he turned around to hang another bag, his eyes landed on you, a flinch flexing throughout his body, a catch in his breath, because it wasn’t often you could sneak up on him. He swallowed, trying to find his bearings.

“You forget something?” he asked, voice low, tired. He didn’t realize you’d already gone and come back.

“No,” you replied, trying to mask your hurt though it did little use, “did you?”

He clenched his jaw, eyes darting down to the floor as he bent to grab another sandbag from the line. There was guilt etched into his features as he hung the bag on the chain as if it weighed nothing. It was then you noticed his bare hand, how it was beaten raw and bloodied.

“Jesus, Buck,” you gasped, reaching out for his hand and for the first time in nearly a year, he pulled away from you. He held his hands close to his chest, crossing his arms when he’d realized what he’d done, having seen the hurt on your face. You stepped forward to comfort him, but he flinched away.

“Talk to me,” you pleaded, tears in your eyes because you’d just left him to face 70 years in hell and all you wanted was to hold him again. Your agony for him ached deep in your bones, but he was keeping you at a distance, walls up, protecting himself from a threat you couldn’t see. “Did I—Did I do something?”

“No,” he said quickly, sternly, because it was one of the few things he was absolutely certain of. “No, sweetheart. It’s never you. It’s never anything you’ve done.”

“Then what is it?” You took in a shaky breath, one that barely took in air for the stone lodged in your throat. He glanced up at you and winced at the tears burning in your eyes.

“You saw him, didn’t you?” he asked slowly. He swallowed. “Me. You saw—me.”

“Yes.”

“But is wasn’t me,” he said, almost in a question. “It was some parallel version of me, right? That’s why I don’t remember... not because of what Hydra did to my head?”

You nodded, taking a cautious step forward. When he didn’t retreat from you, you took another. He kept his stare on the ground by your feet; appearing small, as if he didn’t tower over you, as if the strength of his body couldn’t snap a cement brick in half. Your hands slipped into his and you felt his whole body sigh of relief as you brought them closer to you.

Even the cold metal of his left hand was a familiar comfort for you; cool and solid, tangible. It was a piece of the man you knew. His right hand was swollen, skin broken at the knuckles, raw and bleeding. You winced as you quietly examined the wounds, carefully turning his hand in yours to get a better look.

“Will you let me wrap this?” you asked gently and after a few moments, he nodded.

You led him carefully to the edge of the ring and sat him down on the raised edges; a kiss to his forehead as you backed away and you quickly grabbed the first aid kit from the latch under the ring.

Box in hand, you sat down beside him and pulled out the bandages, disinfectant wipes, and soothing gel. You set the kit on the floor and gestured for his right hand. It was quiet as you worked, applying the disinfectant and cleaning the damage he’d inflicted. You felt his gaze on you, studying you as a crease furrowed in your brow in concentration.

Several moments of silence passed before he spoke again.

“Do you see it now?”

You narrowed your eyes, confused by his sudden question. It was something he did often, let his mind wonder and spin until finally something stumbled out, whether it made much sense or not, but you were exceptionally patient with him. You sighed, gently easing the cooling gel onto his knuckles. He hissed at the sting of it.

“See what, honey?”

“Why you shouldn’t be with me.”

You closed your eyes, jaw aching from how tightly you clenched it. You could feel your lower lip trembling, tears burning in your eyes when you looked at him again.

He was better than he was when you’d first met. He didn’t wear the dark circles under his eyes in permeant stains anymore, didn’t leave grease caked into his roots, or wasted away closed off in his room without food for days at a time. But he still carried guilt in his eyes, still hung a heavy shame over his shoulders, still found himself unworthy and irredeemable, even on his best days, no matter how hard he tried to believe you otherwise.

“Bucky,” you sighed, his name aching in your voice, “why would you say such a thing?”

“You know now,” he replied flatly, like it was what he’d been waiting for, like he was so sure that his worst nightmares were already true, “you know what I was like then and how—and how broken I am now. I can’t be him, Y/n. I won’t ever be like that again and I-- I can’t give you the things he could. I won't be enou--”

“Stop, please,” you whispered, holding tightly to his hand as you wrapped the bandages. A tear slipped past your nose and fell to the white fabric along his knuckles, soaking into the cloth. “It broke my heart to see who you used to be, what you were like before Hydra, before all the pain they’d inflicted on you. You were... light and sweet and so impossibly charming.”

He clenched his jaw, eyes to the ground ahead of him as he listened, nodding along. You could tell he was preparing for the worst, like you might tell him that he was right, that this past version of himself opened your eyes to how empty he’d become, how weak and burdensome, how he was only a shell of the man he used to be and he’d never be enough for you.

His hands were shaking in your own and you swiftly lifted them to your lips and kissed at his knuckles, first upon flesh and then to the cold metal of his left. It pulled a gasp from him, an involuntary sigh of relief.

“I saw pieces of you in him, Buck. In the way he’d watch from a careful distance, how he smiled to himself when he thought no one was watching, the kindness in his eyes, the way he said my name,” you continued, letting his left hand sit on your leg so you could reach up to cup the side of his face, gently drawing his attention back to you. His eyes were red, strained, and you smiled sweetly at him. “It’s the same way I see pieces of him in you. You still tease and joke, even if it’s quieter, more intimate. You still make me feel like my hearts going to beat out of my chest when you look at me. You’re still impossibly charming, Buck. You are to me, anyway.”

He shook his head, biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Sweetheart, you’re not broken,” you soothed, sweeping your thumb along his cheekbone. You grazed bristles of hair along his face, scruff from a few days without a razor. “You’re not less than who you were then. Just different. The things that happened to you changed you, Bucky. They’d change anyone. I don’t ever expect you to be the man you were before the fall.”

Bucky took in a shaken breath. “I thought—I thought you might prefer him. The way Steve does.”

“Oh honey,” you exhaled, pulling him into your arms, his head resting on your collar and you stroked your hand along his back to ease the tremors away as he clung to you, “Steve doesn’t--”

“He wants me to be how I was,” Bucky mumbled, his lips muffled by the sleeve of your shirt. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling himself closer. “He doesn't think I can see the disappointment on his face, but I can. I know he misses how things were.”

“Steve just worries about you, Buck,” you said gently, rubbing circles along his back. “He just wants you to be happy. He wants you to be okay.”

It was like he didn’t even hear you, so caught up in the rush of consuming thoughts in his mind, threatening to do him in.

“I’m scared you’re going to start looking at me like that.”

You sucked in a harsh breath, though you willed your voice as steady as you could manage. “Like what, sweetheart?”

“Like I’ve disappointed you,” he admitted simply, like he’d thought about it a dozen times over. “I always thought I had nowhere to go but up with you. You’d only seen me at my worst but… but now you’ve seen me then and—and I don’t know if I can take you wishin’ I was him, doll, because I’ve tried and I—I can’t and I don’t want to lose you because I think it might ki—”

“Look at me,” you requested sternly, pulling him from your embrace and guiding his eyes to you. His cheeks were red, ocean blue of his eyes wet with tears as the words died on his tongue. “I will never ask you be someone you’re not. I would never want you to.”

He shook his head against your hands. “But I’m—”

“You are the man I’ve always known you to be,” you insisted. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, one that you felt his breath leave him as you pulled away. His eyes were glossy but they were vibrant blue as they met yours. “You are the man I fell in love with, Bucky. You, as you are right now. Not some idealized version of who you think you should be. Not the man you were in the forties. You.”

His entire body was rigid in your arms; solid, like stone and steel, and when he finally pulled back, there was an ocean of disbelief in his eyes. Lips slightly parted, brows pinched at the center and a flush of red in his cheeks. An imprint of your sleeve was prominent along his temple as his eyes searched yours, seeking out a deception he would never find.

“You love me?” he whispered, voice barely audible, but you watched as his lips mimed the words; the way he licked at the dryness and tried to swallow back the sandpaper in his throat.

“With everything I have, honey.”

When he finally did let himself exhale again, the breath carried a world of relief in its release. A smile hung on his lips, curving up into his cheeks, and wrinkled into his eyes. A vision of a man decades younger, lighter, where the blue was brighter and the stones were lifted from his shoulders.

“You love me,” he said again, though this time it wasn’t a question but simply a statement of fact. He repeated it again, like he was engraving it into his mind, into his memories where Hydra couldn’t touch it, where it would be protected and entirely his.

“I do,” you giggled, playing with the ends of his hair. “Any chance you might--”

Lips were suddenly on yours, melded and perfectly warm, soft, eager, and you wondered why you ever thought he was any different from the man he used to be. His hands snaked up into your hair, curling delicately into your scalp as a sigh left his breath and touched your cheek. He kissed at your jawline, your cheekbones, the tip of your nose, and returned to your lips where he was wanted most.

When he finally pulled back, you let him go reluctantly, and he set his forehead to yours; the brightest smile on his face you’d ever witnessed and you were almost certain it must have ached in his cheeks from lack of use, but god, was he beautiful.

“I love you, too.”

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#buckysknifecollectionchallenge #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you

9K notes · View notes

ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Note

Would lowkey kill to see Kauri attempting to write poetry in his relationship with Jake era (omg Jake helping him/being the one to write it down) I always forget that he was a writer and loves poetry and I love him 10 times more every time I remember

CW: Some references to past trauma, forced illiteracy, some brief internalized victim-blaming/slut-shaming, Kauri’s low self-esteem

Takes place after Worth the Risk and Kauri’s first glimpse of his own past

“This is fucking stupid. I can’t fucking do this.” Kauri picks up the notebook, hard-backed blue with little golden stars twinkling on the cover, and throws it full-strength across the room until it smacks into the wall and drops to the ground, open to his own scrawling, struggling handwriting.

Chris, wrapped in a big fuzzy blue blanket and curled up in an armchair playing a game on his phone or texting Laken or maybe both, flinches and looks up. “Kauri?”

Kauri looks away from the earnest concern in those huge green eyes and kicks ineffectually at the coffee table, hissing when he doesn’t actually miss and his toes connect with the hard wooden leg. “Fuck. Fucking-... bullshit, I’m an idiot trying to do this, just-... god damn it. I should know better.”

There’s a silence, and then Chris asks, softly, “Know better than, than... than to what? What were you, um, you doing?”

Kauri’s jaw is set and for a second he considers lying. He’s a good liar, after all, and Chris is always so ready to believe him, he wouldn’t even question it. Safer to lie, hide the ideas inside his head, talk instead about something soft and surface-level.

Safer to be stupid, always.

But he’s trying not to do that anymore.

He’s trying.

“Writing,” He says, finally. “I was... trying to-... write something.” The words are ground out of him nearly against his will. He glares at the notebook lying open on the floor, the scrawling handwriting of the fucked up slut still thinking he can be anything else. Looping and childish, too big almost to fit within the lines.

“Oh.” Chris pauses, and then brightens, setting his phone aside and straightening up. “You, you sad you think that you used to, to, to, to write, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” Kauri’s head hurts, a sharp punishing ache. How dare he think in metaphor and simile, how dare he try to build the villanelle, how dare he remember vaguely arguing with someone in a coffeeshop over old poetic forms being superior to poems that don’t even try to fit within a rhythm, and he just-

This is so-

He’s so stupid, thinking he could just pick it up again like it hasn’t been a decade or close, like he’s still whatever stupid shit lived in his body before he-

signed up for this-

followed a fucking hot guy outside in the dark and got thrown into a van and made into Kauri.

“Well, my... my professor for, for, for, for Playwriting says... says writing is a muscle. You, you have to exercise. And you can’t do the, um, the, the, the-the heavy weights until you start with, with small ones.”

Kauri snorts, derisive, but it’s not because Chris is wrong - of course he’s not wrong. Part of Kauri knows it, too, that he used to write all the time, around the pounding inside his skull he knows that he used to scribble lines on napkins and paper towels and the margins of his study books, bringing together the poem itself only later, usually alone or with a boyfriend on the other side of the room. He used to be able to do this.

He used to do this all the time.

“I wish Owen had wanted someone who could write a fucking poem,” Kauri says, voice breaking on the tears that threaten. “Maybe then I’d still be able to.” He pushes himself to his feet and stomps over to scoop up the notebook almost violently. “Why are you taking Playwriting, anyway? I thought you wanted to do set design.”

“I, I do.” Chris shrugs, eyes on Kauri, watching him walk back towards the doorway that leads to a hall and then to the kitchen. “But I thought-... I, I, I figured-... maybe if I learn how to, to write a play, it would help... visualize. For, for, for set-building. You, um. You know?”

Kauri exhales, slowly, and then nods. “Yeah. I get it. That’s a good plan - I mean, not that I would know, I’m a college fucking dropout, right?” He laughs, bitterness in every word, in every sound.

“No,” Chris replies, simply. “You, you were... abducted. We were, um. We, we, we were stolen. Your words were, um, were stolen, too. That’s what Dr. Berger-”

“Fuck Dr. Berger,” Kauri snaps, and leaves the room before Chris can make any more sense and possibly break apart Kauri’s determined self-loathing while he still wants to soak in it.

Hating himself for what he can’t do - or what he’s been told he can’t do - is so much easier than trying to do it anyway.

Everything was easier than trying to get better.

So why is he still trying?

Notebook clenched in white-knuckled hands, Kauri climbs the stairs like a man moving to the gallows, one by one, his thoughts a swirling morass of self-hatred, and then he moves into the bedroom he shares with Jake here and stares at the rumpled covers on the bed.

He sleeps here every single night, wakes up to the same face pressed red on one side from the pillow, hears the same deep voice rumbling good morning, feels the same arm slide over his waist, the same scratchy stubble rubbing his jaw when he’s kissed.

I have generally found, in my work, the fucking therapist’s voice echoes inside him, that when you begin to do the work to rebuild, you will find yourself dedicated over time to reconstructing not just a room, Kauri, but the entire city that was once leveled. Does that make sense?

He’d told her it didn’t.

Kauri spent years dodging therapy whenever Nat didn’t talk him into it, and he hates going. He hates having to spill all the darkness inside him to someone who never stops being so goddamn calm.

But the first time she’d said, have you ever heard about the effect that solitary confinement has on the human mind? He had told her he didn’t know, but he’d started crying, too, and hadn’t been able to explain why.

Part of you knows, Dr. Berger had said gently. Part of you always knew.

He had never really wanted to know the person who had inhabited this skin, or try to be him again. But standing here looking at the evidence of the life he is slowly building - his clothes in a crumpled heap on the floor by the bed, his toothbrush in the little cup in the bathroom, a picture of he and Jake in a frame by the bed now, the very small silver ring he wears sometimes even though they’re not and they probably won’t but it kind of feels good to wear it sometimes...

He wonders if Liam Harker wanted a life like this one.

---

“It’s really dumb,” Kauri mutters, pulling the pillow over his face, burning red with embarrassment. “I didn’t even really mean for you to see it-”

“It’s not dumb,” Jake says, gently. Kauri feels the dip in the mattress as he sits down, feels the warmth of his hand resting on Kauri’s thigh through the blanket. “I’m sorry I read it. I didn’t know what I was looking at. If it was supposed to be a secret-”

“No. I didn’t. I forgot I left it out on the dresser. It’s not your fault. It’s so fucking stupid. I don’t know why I even-”

“Kauri.” Jake’s voice sharpens, a little. “Stop. Stop calling yourself stupid. You’re not, and you never were, and you don’t have to repeat what that asshole told you about yourself anymore, remember?”

Kauri swallows, hard, a lump in his throat he can’t quite breathe around. “When does it stop being his voice,” He asks, muffled, “and start being my own?”

“When you let it,” Jake says, rubbing his leg soothingly. “Just like my dad’s voice. You’re not stupid. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met in my life. I’m sorry I read it, but that’s because it wasn’t mine to read, not because it was dumb, or bad. It wasn’t.”

Kauri hesitates, then pulls the pillow to the side, looking at the sincere affection in Jake’s face, his slight smile. “Yeah? You’re not just-”

“Saying that? No, I’m not. I mean, I’m not, like, a poetry person-”

“It’s not even a real villanelle, anyway.”

“I have no idea what that means. I just... I thought it was pretty good, actually. When I realized-... I put it down when I realized you were writing about-... you know. Yourself.”

“Liam,” Kauri says, hoarse, barely able to pronounce the name. “I wrote-”

“Yeah.” Jake takes his hand, pulls it to his lips, presses a kiss to Kauri’s knuckles. “I know. It’s really good, Kaur. You should keep writing. I promise I won’t look at any stray papers I find anymore, yeah?”

Kauri takes a breath. He feels almost dizzy, in a way that is both terrible and wonderful. The way you open yourself to the people you love is a horrible, amazing risk. The way you spill the darkest parts of yourself, not things you’ve done wrong but the things you are afraid of allowing back into the light, in case it washes them all away again.

But the light he lives in now isn’t cold, and it isn’t taking him away from himself. The light he lives in now is sunlight.

“What?” Jake’s eyebrows raise slightly. “What’s that face for?”

“Jake. What if-... what if I ask you to? Read them?”

Jake’s lips press together, and he nods, smiling slightly, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against Kauri’s hand. He’s always warm, Jake, even on the coldest days. He’s always warm. “I’d be-... be fucking honored, or something that sounds less bullshit than that, but I mean it. I’d be... I love you, Kauri. Seeing inside your head is what I want to do for-... for forever.”

“Maybe I’ll ask then,” Kauri says, and pulls Jake’s hand and then Jake himself, the taller, larger man settling on top of him, holding himself up on his elbows, careful not to rest all his weight. “I love you, too, you know.”

“Yeah.” Jake kisses the tip of his nose. “It’s pretty fucking great.”

Kauri’s eyes glimmer, but he closes them so Jake can’t see, and kisses his forehead. “It’s nice to think that I’m lucky and mean it.”

“I think you should read your poem to Dr. Berger,” Jake says, and when Kauri groans, he pulls back. “I mean it. She should know.”

Kauri wants to argue, but he looks into Jake’s eyes, and sighs, and says he’ll think about it.

---

AN APOLOGY

I am built from the hollow air left after your heart stopped beating

Your hands still gripped tight to the life they were ending

I know you thought of home but I don’t know where your home is

The sound of my voice is a green valley that only sends back screaming

Covered in smoke and dust that I told myself smelled like cologne

Pathways that remember your laughter silent in the years that followed

Have I done enough to build a life you would have enjoyed living?

I am built from the hollow air left over when your heart stopped beating

The heat of their hands as inevitable as a river tore down every foundation

Their cruelty buried you so deeply that only I remain

I don’t deserve the love that should have been yours to receive

The sound of my voice is a valley echoing back your screaming

I owe you an apology for walking around inside you

Crumbling ruins with my touch and calling it preservation

I’m sorry for every blade of grass growing through our bones

Am I nothing but hollow air from when your heart stopped beating?

Wildflowers grow inside me from soil windswept over ash

Is that life worth everything not quite dead so deep below?

Is Kauri Grant good enough to make up for Liam Harker’s loss?

In the valley of my body, does anyone but me still hear you screaming?

I owe you an apology and have to hope the life I live provides it

I wish I could ask for forgiveness from the shape of you

We’re both ghosts, in the end, mosaic pieces shattered in shadows

I’m sorry that I’m all that’s left.

I built myself from hollow air in the shape of a heart still beating

The sound of my voice will always carry the echo of yours screaming

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @orchidscript @cubeswhump , @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @moose-teeth @whumptywhumpdump @wildfaewhump

206 notes · View notes

katsulia · 4 years

Note

Heyyy! Could you do "he offends you" with kuroo, Tsukishima and daichi? Thank uu!

He offends you - part3

featuring : Kuroo, Tsukishima

Atsumu and Kageyama version

a/n : I’m so sorry that I took soooooo long to answer this, but here it is ! Daichi version will come in another part with Oikawa’s one !

Kuroo

The exams were coming up fast and as they approached your stress only increased considerably. The dark circles were even more visible on your face and you could see the tiredness miles away. It was absolutely necessary to ensure good grades for this semester in order to hope to make up for the less honourable grades of the previous semester. The nights were long and at this point you could compete with the Hunchback of Notre-Dame and could easily win because of your slouched position upon your desk.

However, that didn't stop Kuroo from coming to visit you in your room. After more than two years of relationship he had learned to notice everything about you whether it was your way of making noise with your nails on any surface, cutting your fruit always very meticulously or your stubbornness. That's why he knew he had to intervene this weekend after having left you all week to your stubbornness to work in an unhealthy way. So at the end of the afternoon he appeared in your apartment with a bag full of your favorite sweets in his hand. Not surprisingly, he found you in your room, hunched over your desk with a multitude of documents and manuals scattered on it. Standing with his head in the doorway, he couldn't help smiling at your concentrated expression and your rather peculiar posture.

"Hey kitten, how's it going?" he whispered in the middle of your ear after putting the bag on your bed. His arms came around your body even though you didn't seem very responsive to his approaches.

"Hmm ... Tetsu wait, I need to focus on this chapter." You got out of his grip without even looking up from your notebook.

Obviously this was not to the liking of Kuroo who was getting more and more worried about your condition. Beyond the fact that he may have been in need of attention, he considered your stubbornness useless at this stage. The rhythm that you had adapted in the last few days was not at all productive and you deserved to take a break.

"You should take a quick pause chibi-chan" he tried one last time to talk some sense into you. His hand stroking your hair was meant to reassure you, but it only intensified your anxiety and irritation towards him.

"I really need to work on this course and get a good grade." You let out a long sigh at the end of your sentence because this debate with Kuroo was just wasting your time. "You let out a long sigh at the end of your sentence because this debate with Kuroo was just taking up your time.

Kuroo rolled his eyes, you were not even aware that it was counterproductive and you were too narrow-minded for him. "But what you're doing here is useless, you have to stagger your workload, otherwise your brain won't memorize anything and you know it. But once again you prefer to be stubborn when it harms you, that's not the way to get a good grade. »

He was certainly telling the truth and probably didn't mean to be rude, but that didn't stop his words from being a little too raw. Deep down you knew that he only wanted what was good for you, but at that moment you took it as a personal attack, especially since the pressure you were putting on yourself would soon make you explode. Having your boyfriend question your way of working was the last thing you needed. Subconsciously you clenched your fist around the pen you were holding and took a deep breath with your eyes closed to try to calm yourself down. But soon tears began to form and flow down your cheeks. Both on edge and totally vulnerable you didn't want to let Kuroo see you like this.

"Ok, I get it Tetsuro, but I remind you that not all of us are geniuses like you and some of us need to work. Which I'm trying to do, I'm sorry that I don't belong to the same world as you." Your tone was cold and dry which was rare for you. "Your tone was cold and dry which was rare for you. But it's true that the fact that Kuroo was pretty good academically didn't help the situation and you almost felt humiliated like a child being scolded by an adult. You would have liked to be like Kuroo and understand everything at first hand without having to spend hours in your lessons hoping for a decent grade, but this was not the case.

Kuroo, on the other hand, was petrified and didn't expect this at all. It had nothing to do with his abilities? He never thought he had offended you or even looked down on you. It's true that sometimes he liked to tease you about your dubious knowledge in chemistry but it never went any further. He felt extremely bad because he only made you feel worse when his goal was the opposite. But it wasn't a time for laments and regrets right now, you were the one who needed help. He turned your chair and lowered himself to your level to talk to you straight in the eyes.

"Kitten, I'm really sorry you feel that way. First of all, I'm not here to blame you or lecture you, but I know how hard you've worked and how you forgot to take care of yourself, so I wanted you to take a break. I assure you that it will do you good and that you will be ready to go back to work in better conditions. And I know this because I know you are determined and stubborn in the positive ways but sometimes you don't even pay attention to yourself anymore." His thumbs caressed your cheeks and dried your tears, and miraculously the feeling of his fingers on your skin instantly calmed you down. It was hard to look him straight in the eye, but it was clear that his gaze was only holding love for you. « And secondly, I'm not a genius. I'm just a nerd who spends all his time making chemical jokes, please don't ever devalue yourself over that again, okay?" Automatically you let a smile appear on your face, he was right he was a nerd first and foremost. Kuroo then smiled, happy to see you feeling better already. He dared to place a kiss on your forehead and his heart warmed up when he felt your hands clinging to his shirt.

"Come on, now we're watching Emily in Paris, and I've got your favorite snacks. And then I promise I'll help you study." You didn't even have time to say anything that Kuroo was already lifting you up on the way to your bed. And getting under the comforter cuddled to Kuroo was certainly not something you were going to say no to.

Tsukishima

Often after class you would stay in the library for a while and work on while Tsukishima finished training with the volleyball team. But today it wasn't in your plans, at least not since lunch.

You were discussing with Kiyoko and Yaichi about the progress of the semester and the growing complexity of homework. The girls were interested in your grades and how you were managing everything as if it was easy.

"If getting good grades means getting the same results as Kageyama and Hinata, then yes, you can ask Y/N for advice," you almost jolted at the voice of your boyfriend that was just behind you. Kageyama who was standing aside looked at him with daggers in his eyes yet Tsukishima remained totally indifferent. It was the girls who burst out laughing at this scene knowing full well that he was trying to prick the two boys who undoubtedly excelled on a volleyball court but much less when it came to bringing home good grades. Soon you joined them in your turn, as you could not hold your breath in front of a smoking Kageyama.

But even if you laughed at the core you took Tsukishima's remark very badly. You were used to your boyfriend's rather harsh words and knew that most of his coldness was deceptive, although this time you couldn't help being struck by his words. You felt humiliated worse than when you were in public. Did he really see you like that, a little silly around the edges? You liked to think that he didn't, after all he wasn't the kind of person to bother with people who didn't deserve his time. And that's not true, you were far from having castrophic results, and anyway, even that wouldn't change the fact that your intelligence was certainly not defined by your grades. Yet you were just thinking about it because you were rather proud of the results you were getting after the efforts you were making, and Tsukishima more than anyone else knew this because he himself was a witness to the work you were putting in. Until now you had always believed that he was proud of you even though he didn't show it so much because it wasn't in his nature, but right now you strongly doubted it.

That's why you didn't want to go home with him and have to endure any more nasty remarks from him. All the way home you just replayed what he had said and kept repeating his words over and over again. You know you shouldn't give it too much importance, but it was impossible to ignore his cold voice in your head. Your spirits had taken a hit and you just wanted to get into your comforter and move on. But suddenly your cell phone lit up with a new message from Tsukishima.

You went home early?

Your thumbs stayed up above your screen not knowing if you should answer or not. Was he surprised not to see you at the gym doors? Honestly, what did he expect? You hadn't even exchanged a word after lunch.

Yes

Fast and efficient. Even he would have answered like that. The message was simple and didn't say anything special.

Okay. Why?

I wanted to study so I wouldn't have the same grades as Kageyama and Hinata.

The second you sent the message you were already regretting it. Surely he was going to know that you were referring to the lunchtime and he was going to bother you even more with it. You would have been better off ignoring it and finding some other excuse he's never going to let you go with it again.

Read. No answer? Maybe it was better than one of his terrible comebacks that you absolutely didn't need right now. But yet it still affected you a little bit more, he really doesn't care, does he? Didn't he realize that sometimes it was too much and that a relationship shouldn't be like that? All these questions were running through your head while you were lying there in bed staring at the ceiling. You don't know how long you were in that position before a big blonde head barged into your room.

"Kei? What are you doing here? "Your face reflected your surprise and you immediately straightened up to see your boyfriend coming closer and closer to you.

"Your brother let me in and I knocked on the door but you didn't hear me." he stopped a few feet from your bed and stood staring at you. His face seemed neutral and unemotional, which wasn't really surprising.

"Uh ... Yes ... But that still doesn't explain why you're here? "You were stumbling over your words, which conveyed your anxiety and incomprehension about his unexpected presence.

"I spent the end of the day surrounded by idiots like Kageyama and Hinata. And I was hoping after that to go home with my girlfriend to recharge my batteries and finally be with someone who doesn't give me a headache. Except that today I'm the one who hurt her head. "Without even wanting to, your eyes softened and you already wanted to take him in your arms. But your brain was still resisting and thinking about what he had said earlier.

"Yet you thought I was on the same footing as your two teammates. "With your arms folded, you stared at Tsukishima, who couldn't help but sigh at your pout.

"But you know that if you were anything like them I would never hang out with you. I wouldn't want you to be my girlfriend. "You rolled your eyes, there was nothing romantic about it. But when he sat on your bed and intertwined your fingers you already had a slight smile on your face. Seeing that you weren't rejecting him, he moved closer to you and placed his head on your shoulder. "Sorry," he whispered softly. And if that wasn't enough for some of us it was more than enough for you, especially since you already knew that tomorrow he would take you to your favorite bubble tea and that it would last all week.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu writing #haikyuu x you #haikyuu scenarios #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo imagine #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo scenarios #kuroo tetsuro x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima scenarios #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei imagine

434 notes · View notes