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possibilistfanfiction · 1 year

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Holy shit if you write an avatrice footy au…good god my gay football loving heart I will love you forever

[it's coming along!]

you’re scrimmaging, small-sided, at the end of training — not your absolute favorite but better than ending with conditioning, although you’d already lifted today. even if you’d never admit it, sometimes you feel like you’d rather retire than do another beep test. you get stuck in, a strong tackle, versus lilith near your team’s goal, quick and complete, and then you feel, as you sometimes do, like the ball is with you. everything goes quiet and you could pass, maybe, but it all slows down and you see opening after opening, feints and stepovers and then a finish that feels like heaven: perfectly on the top of your foot, no spin on the ball, so fast and hard, placed in the lower left corner. mary watches it go in, instead of even reaching, and you roll out your shoulders, take a big breath. it’s exhilarating — close to joy, and a lot of duty — to move in the way that makes your body feel calm, and purposed, and controlled.

‘good, beatrice,’ your coach, m. superion says, and you nod quietly.

‘holy fucking shit,’ you hear ava say as you accept a few high fives.

camila laughs. ‘yeah. that’s what the best in the world looks like.’

it’s apparently a good goal to end on, because superion calls it and sends you all off. you dutifully make your way to physical therapy, listening happily and idly to a few of your teammates talk about the weather and their plans for your free rest day coming up soon. you listen and remember: you know how to be a good teammate, a good captain, because you love your teammates, care about their wellbeing.

eventually some people go to cool down and stretch. you go to physical therapy, as you have for a while because of a string of mostly small and nagging injuries.

‘hey,’ ava says, sidling up to your hip as you walk down the hall. ‘that was — i’ve genuinely never seen anyone move with the ball like that before.’

you want to smile, but it’s hard to take a compliment that sincere, that pointed with praise. it makes you feel special, and you have no idea what to do with that. ‘thank you.’

she grins, sits down on the table next to yours. ‘i’ve watched you play for years, but seeing it in person is… fucking awesome. i’m pumped to get to play with you.’

‘i —‘ you don’t quite know what exactly to say— ‘you bring a lot of joy to the pitch.’ admittedly, ava’s work rate and fitness and defensive discipline appear to be kind of abysmal; she seems mostly concerned with scoring, but it’s true. she smiles and laughs and tries outrageous moves, even on her first day with your squad.

’wow, thank you,’ she says, totally sincere, and it makes something in your chest — long since locked away — ache. ‘i’m, like, sort of a big fan? this is kinda wild for me.’

‘well, let me know if you’d like an autograph later.’

ava raises her brows. ‘oh, i mean, i’m sorry if that was weird?’

you do succumb to a laugh now. ‘no, no. i was kidding. i promise i’m nothing special.’

‘that’s insane,’ ava says, unceremoniously stripping her shirt off, and you have to look away. you’ve spent your entire life in locker rooms and recovery, but this feels, just — different. ‘you’re like. such a badass.’

you can’t do anything but stare at your ankle and just shake your head, and you can tell that ava is ready to argue this point forever, but then vincent walks over with the TENS machine.

‘good to see you again, beatrice,’ he says, ‘and hello, ava. i’m vincent; i’ll be your physical therapist with the team.’

‘sweet,’ ava says, offers a hand. ‘good to meet you, man.’

‘you too.’ he turns toward you. ‘i’m going to get ava set up first, beatrice, and then we’ll do stim and ice on your ankle, the usual.’

you give a firm thumbs up, which makes ava smile into her shoulder. her hair is sweaty, slicked back and out of its ridiculous and ineffective bun. you think, for a moment, what it would be like to run your fingers through it after a game, or in the shower, or —

you swallow and feel a little panicked at that train of thought, stop it immediately, focus on the rehab exercises vincent had given you a few days ago to reload the lateral tendon in your ankle like you’ve been working on for months.

vincent tells ava to turn around on the bed so he can do a quick assessment, and you don’t want to look; you don’t mean to look, but there’s ava’s pale skin and thin, small, strong shoulders; the nape of her neck, the tender truth of her elbows. you notice it all before you see the scar that runs what seems like the length of her spine, healed and faded but clearly a little irritated after playing today. you don’t wonder why she still wants to play, even though she tells vincent that her pain is at a four and then, when he lifts a brow, reluctantly admits it’s closer to a seven.

he frowns, massages an area around her spine between her shoulder blades with the soft tissue cream for a moment, and she nods.

‘yeah,’ she says, ‘it’s a little better.’

‘we want to be careful bringing you back into fitness and full contact.’

she groans. ‘i’ve been careful for the past two years.’

‘i’m afraid you’re always going to have to be careful.’

ava sighs. ‘yeah, yeah.’ she sits, shoulders a little slumped, and you want to cheer her up somehow, make things better, bring back the joy she’d given the room. but you stay quiet, return an email from your agent about an upcoming shoot later this week, and when you look over, ava is on her stomach, her head turned and resting in the crook of her crossed arms on top of a pillow, facing in your direction. vincent puts the pads carefully on either side of the back of her sports bra, and she relaxes, just slightly, as her puts a heating pad over it to cover the majority of her back.

she looks peaceful, when she closes her eyes as you lie back and let vincent massage your ankle for a minute or two and then prop your leg up on a bolster. he gets your pads and current level situated — you know it’s supposed to be comfortable, but you always push yourself a few levels higher than what is actually comfortable — and then wraps your ankle in ice.

‘twenty minutes,’ he says, ‘and then i’ll let you go for the day; i think you have film after lunch.’

‘thank you,’ you say, and you think ava might have legitimately fallen asleep but then she cracks an eye open and smiles at you.

‘you had surgery this off season?’

‘you are a fan.’

a delightful blush darkens her cheeks but she takes it in stride. ‘well, maybe i follow you on instagram. maybe. but you never even post anything. i just got it from the IR, honestly.’

you hadn’t posted about your ankle — the minor surgery you’d had or any of the off-season therapy and training you’d done or how mary and shannon had forced you to let them bring you food and watch movies with you on your couch — so you figure that is legitimately true. ‘i did,’ you say. ‘uh, have surgery.’

‘so we’re gonna be PT buddies this season,’ she says, genuinely excited at the prospect.

‘i can’t imagine the PT you’ve had to do.’ you don’t mean to play your cards, not quite like this, but ava’s smile is sad and gentle and you can’t find it in yourself to regret it.

she hums. ‘the feeling of being back on the pitch is, like, a fucking miracle.’

‘your back hurts, though?’

she shrugs as best she can. ‘yeah, all the time. but i love football, and i was never supposed to get to play again, so, you know, i figure i’ll just try for as long as i can.’

‘football is my favorite thing,’ you say, quietly, and ava’s smile turns happier.

‘me too.’

‘not defending, though.’

ava rolls her eyes. ‘yeah, i get the feeling lilith hates me already.’

‘your defensive work rate is terrible.’

ava seems mostly unfazed. ‘my finishing slaps, though, cap. gotta give me that.’

‘perhaps.’

she grins. ‘i’m gonna be scoring worldies, just you watch.’

you have the feeling that, work rate or not, ava is going to be a light. you’re the best player in the world because you have devoted your life to your craft: you stay longer and work harder and take recovery more seriously than anyone you know. you don’t drink; you stick to your nutritional plan exactly. you don’t have — distractions.

‘lilith is just upset because, since shanon retired, she thought she was going to take over starting at the 9.’

ava awkwardly waves her hand as if to shoo off the thought. ‘i doubt i’ll start anytime soon.’

you don’t want to tell ava that watching her today, even though she seemingly hates tracking back and marking anyone, ever, every shot she’d had on goal was electric. was beautiful. ‘we’ll see, i guess.’

‘i don’t — i don’t really care about starting, or stats, or whatever.’

that’s part of the problem, you want to say, but it feels important to be quiet.

‘i just want to play.’

you nod. ‘i can — it’s easy to see.’

she grins. ‘so, beatrice, where’s the best place to eat here? favorite bar? where do you go dancing? are you single?’

you blanch a little at the last question, feel your heart start to race.

ava can notice, horrifyingly. ‘i just — sorry, if that’s too personal. i just love new places, and i’ve been doing physical therapy for so long i’m excited to go… be a person again, outside of football.’

‘it’s okay,’ you say. ‘i don’t really go out.’ you leave it at that, hope it’s enough. ‘but camila and mary love a thai place nearby. i’m sure some of the girls have a few spots they’d be happy to take you to.’

‘cool,’ she says, ‘and you’ll come with, right?’

‘ava.’

she laughs. ‘i’m gonna get you to have a life outside of football too, i swear. it makes the football more fun.’

maybe that’s true, but you wouldn’t really know. you had been playing in academies since you were twelve.

‘what’s the point in being the best in the world if you don’t enjoy the world?’

you have no answer for that, but thankfully the timer on the TENS beeps for ava and vincent pops by, takes the pads off and then does the same for you. you don’t miss ava’s grimace as she sits up and your chest pulls in worry for her, but then she sets her face into a smile and thanks vincent, puts on her slides and a clean hoodie. she waits for you to walk to the locker room.

‘first day was okay?’

‘first day,’ she says, ‘was magic.’

you smile; how can you not? ‘well, conditioning is tomorrow; superion is… so intense. don’t expect much magic from that.’

ava just laughs.

the next day ava throws up in a trash can during the beep test but, to her credit, she does keep going, tapping out a few stages before you, on par with most of the other girls.

no one comes close to beating you, and when you finish at 14 — your own personal record you can’t ever seem to break — you hold your hands above your head, open up your burning lungs, even though all you want to do is lie down and close your eyes until you feel less exhausted, less light headed.

but eventually you’re finished, and you run through some easy passing sequences on the pitch before you head to PT again, ava in tow.

‘you’re right,’ she says, wiggling a little to get comfortable on the table next to you.

‘about many, many things,’ you say, and she rolls her eyes. ‘but what specifically are you referring to?’

‘the beep test is categorically the opposite of magic.’

you laugh.

‘i was just thinking about how good a pizza will taste tonight.’

‘i don’t know the last time i’ve even had pizza.’ it’s an admission that comes out far more honestly than you’d intended.

ava frowns. ‘pizza is magic, okay? plus, we can get, like, protein and veggies; it’s an awesome food.’ she turns toward you. ‘wanna get pizza with me tonight, bea?’

no one in the entire world calls you bea, and you think about correcting her but she’s smiling so hopefully, her hair messy and her eyes big and brown and gorgeous, you nod. ‘fine. but, delivery? i want to watch some more film.’

‘ugh,’ ava says, ‘here?’

‘oh,’ you say, ‘no. no. i was planning on going home and watching it there.’

ava grins. ‘so this is an invitation to your home?’

you feel a rush of nerves, imagining ava on your couch, eating pizza, watching film from last season; suddenly, it’s all you want. ‘if you’d like.’

ava reaches out to give you a high five; it’s clumsy and at an odd angle because neither of you can move, but it’s warm and happy all the time. ‘this is gonna be great.’

you think, despite all the hope you try to tamp down, that it is.

#just a lil snippet #footy au #avatrice #wn #warrior nun fic

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direwombat · 10 months

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they just keep makin' more wednesdays don't they?

tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton

tagging @strangefable , @adelaidedrubman , @detectivelokis , @sstewyhosseini , @confidentandgood , @river-ward , @wrathfulrook , @strafethesesinners , @henbased , @voidika , @poetikat , @inafieldofdaisies , @vampireninjabunnies-blog , @aceghosts , @purplehairsecretlair , @deputyash , @harmonyowl , @madparadoxum , @euryalex , @clonesupport , @g0dspeeed , @gaeadene , @ivymarquis , @nightwingshero , @cassietrn , @neverthesameneveranother , @josephslittledeputy , @locustandwildhoney , @roofgeese and anyone else who has a wip to share today!

Looking like the current chapter of katc I'm working on is gonna be split in two so here's a snippet from ch3 (or, ch2 part2) of syb making a bad decision while snooping around seed ranch while waiting for the resistance to show up:

Drawing her lower lip between her teeth, she picks up the receiver. Dutch had said that the phone lines were cut sometime last night and the call from Joseph is timestamped about an hour after the helicopter crashed. Either he called before the lines went down, or he and John have a direct line that’s remained intact. Both are likely, but as she presses it to her ear, there’s no high-pitched beeping of a disconnected landline. Just the expectant drone of the dial tone.

And then she does something profoundly stupid.

It's a morbid curiosity that compels her. The same kind that drives a child to play Bloody Mary in the bathroom mirror or pushes a man to pray to Satan. It isn’t the desire for a response, but rather to get the answer to a question she’s not really sure she wants the answer to. Or maybe just to confirm what she already knows.

Will the Devil answer if she calls?

Her heart hammers in her chest and she hits redial.

The warbling sound of the phone’s outgoing rings fills her ear. She flexes her grip on the receiver, shifting her weight back and forth as it continues to ring. Trilling note after trilling note, it goes on for what feels like an eternity. Her eyes fall shut and she sucks in a deep breath, desperately hoping that it’ll go to voicemail. But just when she thinks it will, there’s a click and —

“John?” comes the voice of Joseph Seed and she immediately goes tense. He’s so quiet, speaking in something barely more than a whisper. Calm and even, just how he sounded in the voicemail he left for John. Just how he sounded in the hush of his Church as he held his wrists out for her to cuff.

“God will not let you take me.”

Her breath catches in her lungs and her grip around the receiver grows so tight that the plastic creaks. Every muscle in her body locks and she can’t fucking breathe.

“John?” he repeats, this time a little louder and with more concern when he doesn’t get a response. “John, is everything alright? Is something wro—” He cuts himself off and falls silent.

Sybille sinks her teeth into her lower lip so hard that she draws blood, but she's listening so hard to the rasping breath on the other end of the line that she doesn't feel it.

And then Joseph’s voice drops so dangerously low that it’s barely audible over the crackle of the phone. “Deputy,” he breathes.

A violent shudder crawls down her spine. She hears what she thinks might be the beginning of a question, but doesn’t quite catch it as she’s slamming the phone’s receiver down like it’s caught fire. Her hands tremble with adrenaline and she releases the breath trapped inside her lungs, sucking in a new one. Her mouth is dry and she struggles to swallow, but she doesn’t take her eyes off the phone.

Please don’t call back, she thinks as her ragged breaths struggle to even out. Please, please, please don’t call back.

She stands there for far longer than she should have, waiting for him to return her call. It isn’t until she hears the sounds of modern rock blaring in the distance that she’s able to pull herself from her stupor. In an expulsion of the pent up, frantic energy, she rips out the cable and throws the machine onto the ground with as much force as she can muster. It shatters, pieces of plastic flying out all over the hardwood floors.

Finally, her heartbeat begins to slow, returning to normal, along with her breath. With a shake of her head, she pulls herself from where she’s rooted, tearing her gaze from the smashed remains of the telephone and directing her focus back towards her objective.

Right, Nick’s plane.

#wip wednesday #wip: kneeling at the crossroads #in true prey animal fashion. syb's fight or flight response is actually 'freeze'

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indomiinus · 2 months

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verses updated!

🦊volo | 🔹adaman | 👑leon

changes to existing verses is limited to basically just some wording. new verses are below the cut to keep things nice and tidy for everyone's dashes. Added quite a few verses to Leon! :D

👑Missing Person's Case👑 Major canon divergence

Content warnings for abuse, exploitation, anxiety, depression, loss of identity, burnout, and minor horror themes

Verse with @fightful

After the Darkest Day and after having the lost championship, Rose has been arrested and Leon has been left the remains of the company. He wants nothing to do with it, and begins to work with the Gym Leaders about dividing the company assets and abilities between all of them equally. Leon just wants a quiet life after it all, he wants nothing to do with the corporate life. But in the middle of legal proceedings to begin dissolving the company, Hop has gone missing. Leon drops everything to try and find his brother, but when his own efforts turn up nothing, he's forced to turn to others for help. Never before in his life did he imagine himself walking into a PI's office, pleading for help.

👑zombie apocalypse👑 Major canon divergence

Content warnings for abuse, exploitation, anxiety, depression, loss of identity, burnout, horror themes, gore, violence, blood

Based loosely on the start of the Walking Dead but that's about it

The last thing Leon remembered was Eternatus. After that, it was just a sea of distant voices, beeping machinery. And when he woke up, silence. Where was everyone? Leon's a stranger in the new world, lost and confused and scared. He has his Pokemon, but no clue where his family or friends are or what happened. The whole world changed during his coma after the Eternatus fight, and all he can do is move forward in hopes of finding his footing in this new landscape. Maybe even make some new friends along the way and do some good.

👑vampire hunter au👑 Major canon divergence

Content warnings for abuse, exploitation, anxiety, depression, loss of identity, burnout, horror themes, gore, violence, blood

Can work with any type of vampires, including subwaybat's vampire au and regular old vampires

It's been an age old tradition in Galar: Gym Leaders and the Champion are trained to kill and hunt vampires. They don't show mercy, and even their Pokemon are expected to toughen up and face down life and death for the sake of their trainers. Leon has been Champion since he was ten, killing monsters since before he even knew who he wanted to be as a person. He's had to keep a brave face on through it all, working day in and day out bouncing between hunting monsters and being the smiling face for Galar and the Chairman. He's never known peace. He never gets a break. But he's not heartless: killing is never the first choice for him. His heart is too big for that and even when he has to kill his heart breaks and bleeds for them. Gym Season is the worst six months of the year though. That's the only time when hunting falls squarely on his shoulders, the Gym leaders far too busy with people challenging them to have the time or energy to hunt. And there's only so much one man can do.

👑ghost hunters au👑

Content warnings for abuse, exploitation, anxiety, depression, loss of identity, burnout, horror themes, possible violence, blood

a no pokemon verse

"Is the camera on?" "Oh, shoot, it is-- ah-- hi! This is Leon--" "--And Raihan!" "--And we're here at the abandoned manor outside of Celestic Town in the lovely Sinnoh region!" Leon always had an adventurous streak, and what better occupation than ghost and cryptid hunter for his friend Raihan's Youtube channel? Sometimes they collaborate, but a lot of the time Leon goes off and does things on his own and lets Raihan handle the editing and uploading since Leon can't navigate the editing software to save his life. Most of the time all he finds is dirty old buildings. But sometimes, there's something he can't explain.

#✦ ooc post #✦ carrd update

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hongjoongscafe · 1 year

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3+1=?

Chapter: 02 {Serieslist}

|In the 3+1= daycare|

Pairing: widower!yoongixwidower!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, strangers to lovers, single parent AU.

Summary: life has been cruel to them. Heartbroken and sad when they stumbled towards each other. Will they be able to heal their heart?

Warnings: mention of death, anxiety, smoking, hinting of smut but there is non.

Word count: 2.2k+

Masterpost

*DO NOT REPOST, PLZ*

*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP*

You groaned as the alarm clock blared near your ear. You needed much more sleep than this. Therapy always made you tired and not to forget the twins who were nice but still made you tired enough to pray for a good night’s sleep.

You groaned again as you sat up, your back cracking on the way. Sighing, you got out of the covers and hung your legs down. The soft carpet felt nice under your feet. “I feel so old,” you whined.

The apartment was quiet, indicating that your babies were still asleep. The twins needed to be dropped off at the daycare. It was Saturday but you had some extra work to be taken care of.

You scratched your head as you walked towards their room. Opening the door, you could hear the soft snores of Geon-Wu. Mi-Cha, on the other side, was sitting on her bed with a Moana blanket wrapped around her.

“Good morning, momma,” her groggy voice was cute.

“Hey, princess. I thought you were asleep,” you picked her up when she raised her arms.

“I just woke up,” she yawned.

“Wanna wake up your brother?”

“GEON-WU!” That was all needed to wake him up.

Geon-Wu whined and rubbed his eyes, “you evil,” he whispered.

You quickly got them in the bathroom where you all brushed and then ushered Geon-Wu out so you could get Mi-Cha ready. Then you dressed Geon-Wu.

Rushing towards the kitchen, you prepared breakfast for the kids while they packed their bags for the daycare. The twins didn't go to daycare often since Jungkook worked from home. And would usually take care of them, happily.

He was a singer. Multitalented. He wrote, composed, produced, and did everything on his own at the studio he built in his home so that he could save money. The videography was done by another one of your friends, Namjoon.

Today he was not available. It was the filming of his new single track. Having kids there would be vexation. Not that they were crazy but could be a handful sometimes.

“Now, be good and let me get ready, oky? Eat your breakfast slowly,” you instructed and head straight to the bathroom.

Every day felt like a trial. It's hard to have twins and grow them on your own, you understood a year ago. It felt like a century. You stood under the warm shower, soaking yourself in the memories of your late husband. He was needed. He was a must. You are in love with him. Everything felt chaotic without him.

You missed how he loved you. The way his hands would glide across your body. His scent. His embrace. His comforting words. His giggles. His love for the kids. Everything…

“Mommy!?” a tired sigh left your lips. It has been a year since you got a chance for a peaceful shower or any time to get ready.

“Coming!”

Quickly washing up, you stepped out of the shower and looked at the time on your phone, you smiled. There was some time for a little make-up.

Dressing up, you went outside to see what was happening. “What are you kids up to?”

“Mommy, Geon-Wu spilt maple syrup on himself.”

There goes the time for make-up.

…

“Remember kids, no craziness. It ain't your home where you can be crazy monkeys, okay?” The kids were sitting in the back seat, listening to you carefully and nodding along. “Good. I don't want any complaints.”

Helping the twins out of the car, you opened the door of the daycare. The nice cold air hit your face. You went inside but froze.

There was the man from yesterday, looking at you with a confused frown. His eyes moved from you to your kids who also recognized the phantom-like man.

“Mommy, the ghost,” Mi-Cha whispered.

You cleared your throat and awkwardly waited for someone to come out and take your kids.

“Dropping off your kids?” his thick voice startled you.

Your head snapped in his way, eyes wide open. “Huh? Y-yeah.” you mentally face-palmed.

“Alright,” he got behind the counter and asked for the important information.

“Y-you are an employee here?” you asked.

“Asking the owner if he is an employee?” he grumbled.

Your eyes widened and gawked at the grumpy man. He looked like anything but the owner of a daycare. His hard demeanour was not exactly sitting well with the kids.

The man sighed, understanding your face, “I'm Yoongi. And don't worry about the kids. I see you have visited here before. There are two entries. They are safe.”

“Ah… Yeah.” he was right. You heard about this place three months ago from one of the twins’ classmate’s mother. This place opened five months ago and had a great reputation. They took care of the kids the best. They taught them many things and were disciplined.

You hugged and kissed the head of the twins, “no complaints, okay?”

“Oky.” They smiled and followed the phantom man hesitantly.

…

“I swear he looked so good anti-children yesterday!” you ranted and whined.

“You are thinking too much. See you are already getting wrinkles,” Jin, your co-worker, pointed out, “stay away from me, momma. Ain't nobody wants those.”

“Jin, they are wrinkled, not some air-borne disease that you might catch,” you sighed.

“Whatever. I still don't want my pretty face to get influenced,” he looked at himself in the tiny mirror he always carried. “But in all honesty, don't worry about it. My sister’s daughter goes there sometimes, remember?”

You hummed remembering the time he told you about that. “I'm a mother, Jin. All I am left with is my twins. If something happens to them… There is no reason for me to be alive.”

Jin patted your back, “we will get you free sooner, okay? So that you can go back to your kids.”

“Thanks.”

…

“When I first saw you, I thought that ‘she is out of my league’. But here we are, under the sheets, all warm and cozy,” Dae-Jung said while caressing your bare back.

“Hmm, yeah? You should be worshipping me more, then,” you bit his earlobe and got a satisfactory hum.

“I'll worship you like you deserve every day if you let me, angel,” he kissed your jaw.

“Who is stopping you?” you slid over his hips. “I'm right here, worship me as you say,” you whispered over his lips and captured them in a heated kiss.

The moans filled the room. Dad-Jung wanted to show you how you deserve all the love: mentally and physically, both.

“I'll love you till my last breath…”

Your hands were trembling, your forehead had a shining layer of sweat. Your eyes were spilling tears furiously.

The memories were devastating. They were once sweet but are now a bitter reminder that that won't ever happen again. It sucked the last sanity from you leaving you in this tiny cubicle of the office bathroom.

They were unexpected. It scared you. The twins caught you like this many times before and always questioned it. They were growing up seeing their mother breaking into pieces and their father not coming back.

It was a wrong influence. You needed to be better for them. But it's easier said than done.

Finally, when your body relaxed after a few, you left the washroom.

…

“Mommy! You are early!” Mi-Cha and Geon-Wu rushed towards you and hugged your crouched figure. “Let's go home!”

“Wait for a little bit, little ones.” you stood up and greeted the teacher there who was not the phan-- Yoongi guy.

After doing the formalities, you left.

The car drive was filled with kids screaming ‘baby shark’. You swear you would beat the hell out of the person who even thought about making this stupid irritating– was it a poem? Song? Oh, well, whatever it was, it sucked your brains out. But you had to keep it cool because kids love it. So anything for them.

“Mommy, that ghost man left early,” Geon-Wu said.

“I was so happy when he did,” Mi-Cha giggled.

“Ah, really? That's good, I guess,” internally you were jumping and screaming thanks for whatever reason he left for.

…

It was dark outside. Yoongi was sitting in the park. His heart felt heavy. There was a lot in mind. He felt like his last hope broke. The images, voices, and demons were lurking in and around him. He wanted an escape. An escape that led him to a peaceful life where he could leave his worries and demons behind and just hang in there.

Smoke wasn't his thing. But sometimes when the shit was too much to handle, he didn't mind getting high. He captured the cigarette between his teeth and covered his hand around it to light it. He puffed the smoke in the air and noticed all the patterns that it made in the dark.

The only comfort in his life was all those children he meant to take care of. But his cold persona always pushed them away. He didn't blame them. They weren't his own children… They were someone else's. With that in his mind, he let it slide and watched the kids from afar.

He wasn't that creepy guy who fantasized about kids, no, definitely not. He just… Liked children as a parent would do… A good parent.

“Hey, man. You sitting up here in the park by yourself like this, what happened?” Yoongie looked at his friend, Taehyung, who was looking at him with wide eyes and a mouth filled with chips.

“Nothing, just a lot of things,” Yoongie sighed.

Taehyung nodded, understanding, “don't throw yourself out like that, there is much more to life and you are still young… Things will fall back in place in no time,” he pulled his vaping pen out and vaped.

“Is it worth it, though? I feel like I am wasting everyone’s time and mine too,” he looked up at the sky. He couldn't see a single star, just the darkness like him.

“Man, it is worth it. I'm not saying that you will get a replacement but someone new who can understand you the deepest and hold onto you tightly,” Taehyung said.

“Anyway, how was your shoot?” Yoongie changed the subject.

“Ah, the best so far! The guy, Jungkook, damn! He is so fucking talented. It was so fun to work with him. I had to act like his brother from another mother and boy it felt real,” he praised. “I think you would like his company. He is a jolly man.”

“I don't know, Tae.”

“What!?” the younger one whined. “It's not like you are going on a date with a girl. We are planning on meeting for dinner or something, maybe you could join us too, it would be fun!”

Yoongie sighed, “I'll think about it. For now, let's go back. I have other jobs to handle and the daycare too. It's getting late.”

“Simply say that you want to drown yourself in the past in your bed,” Yoongie glared at him. “You took it seriously, man. I am sorry.”

…

“Pretty please,” Jungkook whined on the call.

“No, J. I don't want to. I have two monkeys to look after,” you said as you cleaned the kitchen.

“It's not like we are going out for long, you know? You haven't met new people in a while. You should come too. Taehyung is a funny man. I'm sure you will feel better,” Jungkook was pouting on the other side. “And it's not like it’s the date. We are just going to dinner with a new friend. He said he might bring another company along. I wanna bring you too. And kids can join us.”

You paused and thought about it. He was right, you haven't met any new people in a while. Dad-Jung loved to socialize so you also met many new people through him. Now it feels weird. But you need to go out and meet new people, make new friends.

“I'll sleep on it,” you sighed.

“Oh, you better wake up with this plan soaked up in your bones. Tell me what you think, okay? Then I will talk to him and fix the date for dinner. I'll get going, tell the kids that I love them and good night,” he yawned.

“Of course,” you looked around and sighed again.

Maybe this could help distract you for a while.

“Mommy?” Geon-Wu's sleepy voice shrugged you out of your thoughts. “Dada still not here?”

His simple question squeezed the life out of you. You didn't know how to break it up to them that their father won't ever come back. It's hard to see the twins like this, longing for their father's embrace. Nobody can ever replace that, no matter what.

“We should go to sleep, love,” you said and helped him get in bed. “Tomorrow is Sunday, we will be going to the big park, okay?”

He looked at you with shiny eyes, “really? You are the best momma ever!”

You chuckled and kissed his forehead. On the other bed, Mi-Cha was already sound asleep. You kissed her forehead and were about to go into your room when Geon-Wu said, “momma, don't ever leave us as Dada did.”

The tears brimmed your waterline. “I never will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

.....

Sanaa's note:

Hi, everyone. How are you all? I got some time on hand so I penned this chapter. I hope you like this 😊💓 I always appreciate your feedback!

The behaviour of all the characters is visualized.

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional

*lemme know if you wanna be added to the permanent or specific taglist*

*original picture is not mine, I just edited them*

Have a nice day/night💓

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seasons-of-ceres · 7 months

Text

There’s no wind in the hospital. Oh, there’s air alright, filtered and dry and lifeless, but no wind. No trace of anything remotely cool. Quiet too. Chatter from nurses, nails on a keyboard, monotone voices directing who to where. Monitors beeping, the breaths and gasps and murmurs of fitful sleep. Hot. Stifling. Sticky. Squishing two beds into a tiny room, a curtain which cannot cover a patient, provide privacy. Wires and tubes. And the food. Bland, spice less, controlled caloric intake, designed with diabetes in mind. Utterly miserable.

Always one angel per shift. Always someone who goes beyond while others, who have clearly never been patients or otherwise lack empathy, meander and mingle and sometimes, pester. Interrupted sleep. Unsatisfying sleep.

Are hospitals for healing, for sleep? Or are they amphitheaters for surgery? Vestibules for sickness? Infections and bacterial outbreaks. Blue. Beige. White. So much white. Thin, scratchy blankets. Thin, rubbery mattress. Starchy sheets. Everything squeaks.

The halls bleed into each other. There are signs everywhere, but everything looks the same. A labyrinth, a maze, an optical illusion. It doesn’t smell sterile. More stagnant. Not dust, but absence. Beds and chairs and equipment clog hallways, slow buildup of plaque. Joyless. Hushed voices. Muted. Too loud a sound could shatter, trigger avalanche. Too loud a sound is rude.

There is no wind in the hospital.

#personal #this has been sitting in the drafts for a few months #don't know what I planned for it but I'm going through all sorts of WIPs #wanted to post something to remind myself I used to post all sorts of writing #now I hoard everything for myself and my partner

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dxwnfxll · 1 year

Note

Can I get a spicy fic with Clef and Reader, but reader has n o i d e a how that works

I shall try my best rehehehe

You can read the title tee hee

-so you've known Clef for awhile, but all you two have been is just friends. Close friends as some would say

-You've always wanted more but similar to other doctors he to has his rumors of how he is within the sheets

-some claim he's simply 'too big' for anyone hence why he doesn't even have a partner, others claim he's like a monster within them

-you usually don't believe rumors but you couldn't exactly go and ask 'hey Clef is your dick actually so big that it can't fit into anything?' Then again when you really think about it he probably doesn't have one that big.

-then again..he is anomalous so maybe he does.

-but all that doesn't matter, you two are strictly friends.

-right about now you were hanging out with the three eyed man, your mind swirling around the thoughts of you and Clef once again. You hadn't been paying attention to what he was saying as usually you two had a good quiet friendship not really much talking from either of you

-you felt someone grab your face squishing it a bit "can ya hear me now?" He said with that shit eating grin of his. You swatted his hand away as he chuckled backing away before you could even touch him

-"sorry Clef, my mind was elsewhere" He nods "i know."

-you give him a look as he just sits across from you "your face is as red as a cherry Y/n"

-you blink trying to cover your face "ah yeah-" he interrupts you "actually it's always red whenever i'm around you..odd isn't it?" He was fucking with you and you could tell.

-but you still acted like a nervous wreck as you felt his ukulele under your chin making you look at him, his third eye now on under his right eye all three staring at you

-he chuckled putting the ukulele on the ground "you look so nervous Y/n, never been with a guy like me?"

-you stared at him as your eyes widened "i um- no i've never been with anyone-" you blurted out

-his grin turned into a smile "oh? Really? Hm.." He leaned back in his chair "that's fine, i can go slow" he said getting up and walking to where you were taking your hand and helping you up "if that's what you want Y/n"

-without thinking you nodded, and you felt yourself being led elsewhere. You didn't realize he led you out of his office, that you two were heading to where his dorm was.

-you didn't realize till you heard the familiar beep of the door, your mind had been trying to prepare yourself for losing your virginity to your friend, a friend who had a shit ton of sexy rumors around him

-he closed the door behind you before kissing up your arm like fucking Gomez from the Aadams family

-he grinned at you before capturing your lips, holding you against his chubby dad body before letting go

-he led you to his bed "don't mind the mess" he said before sitting you on the bed "you sure you wanna do this y/n?" You nodded as you saw his grin grow again

-since this was your first time with him, he was a very gentle lover. And luckily the rumors weren't true, he was pretty average down there

-he definitely left some marks on ya that didn't go away for fucking weeks, oh and don't think this was the only time y'all two hooked up

-he couldn't get enough of ya, and loved how you were under him or uh riding him

-He's definitely a risky guy, a few times he's grabbed you and literally fucked you in his office

-sometimes he likes to mess with you by having you sit next to him and he'll just start rubbing your thigh

-if y'all two end up in a relationship from this is up to you, he doesn't really care. Sure he likes ya but if you just wanna stay 'fuck buddies' then he's cool with it

-of course he's great at aftercare, literally goes a whole 360 to make sure you're okay and stuff and that he wasn't too rough.

-he asks for consent for basically everything, especially if he's doing something new he makes sure you're cool with it first. If you're not it's never brought up again unless you bring it up

That's all folks requests always open!

#scp #scp foundation #scp fandom #scp fanfiction #scp x reader #scp dr clef x reader #dr clef x reader #scp dr clef #dr clef

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heretic-saint-taliesin · 1 year

Text

DAY 9 - SALVAGE SHIP THE WRETCHED_

[Communications commence, Boris speaks cautiously_]

Day Nine, salvage ship The Wretched. I thought I heard something on the beacon but after all that skittering I went through in the vents I’m not sure if it was real or if I’m hallucinating now. It’s been almost ten days with no one but myself to talk to_

I have to keep busy. I can’t spend another day in bed hiding like yesterday or I’ll crack_

It’s so hard to breathe today. I felt it when I woke up and it’s not going away. Like someone’s put a block of cement on my ribcage and is pressing down on it. I thought it was maybe a panic attack from yesterday - but I’ve had panic attacks before and this… This feels different. I don’t feel any more sacred or panicked than normal. I’m… I should investigate_

[Pause, there’s the sound of footsteps_]

My vision is spotty and I thought for a moment I fainted. No, I definitely fainted. Something’s wrong physically. Am I sick? No… It wouldn’t have come on this quick right… It’s so hard to breathe… Ah… Maybe_

[Boris presses something and a system beeps, there’s a whine of an error message and he groans quietly_]

Oxygen again… No wonder I’m fainting, I'm literally suffocating… I’m_

[Pause_]

I’m suffocating!_

[More frantic typing and button pushing. Boris flips several switches that click loudly. There’s the sound of something rebooting and several beeps. He suddenly breathes deeply and heavily_]

Fuuuuuuuuuuuck… Okay… Okay_

[He starts coughing, his hand can be heard gripping the panel he’s leaning on, it creaks_]

First we had an O2 leak earlier this week and now the entire system just… Shuts down. This is not good. Not good at fucking all… What even shut it down?_

[He types a few things, muttering under his breath_]

It’s just on its last legs.It’s dying just like I’m dying - like how everything on this ship is fucking dying. Bet whatever was in the vents didn’t help either - probably tore up a few of the wires and stuff. I’m gonna have to keep an eye on it. Maybe there’s an O2 metre in Medbay I can carry on me to prevent myself from suffocating in my sleep_

[He sighs_]

We’re all dying together here. Maybe just falling asleep and never waking up… Arkady I wish you were here to tell me how stupid I am again_

Maybe it was the lack of oxygen slowly depleting the amount of functioning brain cells I have left but I’ve been lucid dreaming lately_

[Footsteps, Boris sounds like he’s slowly walking down a corridor, pausing between speaking to check around corners_]

The O2 leak definitely hasn’t helped it, that’s for sure. Arkady used to lucid dream and tell me about all the amazing things he could do in his dreams. I used to be jealous because I couldn’t do it_

[Shudder_]

I wish I wasn’t having these dreams_

[Pause, a door sliding open distantly and the beep of the life support system echoes around him_]

I dream of that thing. I’ve never seen it so my head just imagines what it could look like. Anything from a demonic beast to the alien from a movie Arya and I watched as kids - we were way too young the fuck were we thinking?! A-Anyway it… It’s always in my dreams. Peering from around corners and above me in the ceiling. In my head I’ll be walking a corridor like this and in the corner of my vision I’ll catch its eyes staring out of a vent grate or through a cracked panel. It appears on the comms screens - sometimes my dreams remind me of the time it talked to me_

[Another door opens and Boris goes quiet, then steps inside_]

Everywhere I see it. When I sleep and then the memory of the dreams haunts me when I’m awake. I’m checking every corner now. Every hole. I dug a torch out from the emergency hatch and I’m using it wherever it’s dark. Just in case_

It only watches though. It doesn’t attack and it doesn’t kill me. It’s like it knows that… Know that it’s not the right time yet. Not yet. It still has to toy with me a little longer before it has me_

I’ve been calling it that thing for some time now. I don’t really want to imagine it has an actual name. What kind of name would a creature so bent on killing even give itself?_

[There’s the sound of typing and general tinkering as Boris speaks. Background beeping from the systems goes off occasionally_]

Ada woulda picked a name from Pacific Rim or something. Sure it’s not a kaiju but it’s alien enough for that. Doug would’ve been more… creative. Something really stupid like “Slartibartfast” or whateverthefuck. He’s weird. Was weird_

[Pause_]

Arya and I used to have an imaginary solar system with an alien called Noona. I don’t want to give this thing a name that sounds cutesy like that though. As for this thing naming itself? Like what? People-devourer? Destroyer of ships? Or something completely incomprehensible to any language I speak? I can’t imagine_

[Pause_]

I don’t want to imagine_

I keep thinking too hard today. You deprive yourself of oxygen for a bit and suddenly all your thoughts start happening at once. Maybe my brain cells are dying. I keep… Replaying everything we went through when shit went down in my head over and over_

[Pause, the sound of a computer being shut down_]

Arya and I were together when the alarms went off. We tried to find the others because we thought it’d be safer that way. Found Mary in Medbay and Doug came to us from Comms and we were running to try and find Ada, Hollis and the Commander. ADAM was blaring out help and instructions but to no avail. The thing was getting into his systems and tearing him apart. He tried to buy us some time but what can an AI do exactly?_

We were just all running, screaming. Dying. Then we got split from Hollis and the Commander and I never saw them alive again… Ada wanted to recover ADAM’s drives and we begged her not to. She thought if she could get him functioning stronger he’d be able to jettison the creature from the ship. She… I… I_

[Pause_]

She bought Mary, Arya and I about forty minutes. Her and ADAM. It was enough to get away further. Even if… Even if I’m the only one who lived in the end the three of us made it forty minutes longer because she stayed back in the systems room_

[Heavy inbreath_]

I found her there after. She had ADAM’s motherboard in her arms. I didn’t look at the injuries that killed her. Just put her and her creation somewhere… Somewhere more dignified_

Forty minutes_

[Sniffle_]

Flight Engineer Boris Strugatsky Signing off_

#SRPG #Solo RPG #Boris Plays the Wretched

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unfogged-arc · 8 months

Note

002, a hospital waiting room at 3 in the morning. ( Sombra & Sigma )

set the scene / @lightinsonder

There's something eerie about a hospital in the middle of the night. A hospital may have some quiet chatter as nurses discuss patients or what's recently playing in theaters. The sporadic beep of machines, the doors of an elevator opening or closing. There's a presence in a hospital, even in the middle of the night.

Talon's sick bay, though, is something else altogether. The lights are dimmed to the point of refocusing one's eyes. The doctors and healers of Talon taking turns checking on those condemned to lay in the uncomfortable beds behind the curtains that hardly work for privacy. One would think a terrorist organization would have better accommodations for the sick and injured, but Talon's goal isn't comfort — no, their goal is to heal and better the ill and damaged as quickly as they can. That isn't to say the care is insufficient — in fact, Talon's care for those here is stellar, in his opinion.

Siebren's been here too many times, after too many injuries, many of which tend to be self-inflicted during bouts of uncontrollable moments of gravitational force. Sometimes he falls down steps if his mind goes elsewhere without warning, sometimes he needs a quiet place for a mental break where he cannot be distracted by the work around him. He has a preferred bed, he's been here often enough.

He wakes, arm in a splint. He doesn't remember how it happened and perhaps that's for the best. He wonders if he ruined his lab yet again. How many times is Talon willing to remake his lab and replace everything within it? How indispensable is he really?

He turns his head to the chair that he requested, where Sombra sits, just like every other time he's in this god forsaken hospital bed. She seems to be sleeping, and he doesn't wish to wake her. He's not sure she gets enough rest these days. Siebren smiles to himself, glad to have a friend here who doesn't coddle him like the others seem to. He briefly wonders where Moira is, if she's around to discuss an idea he had earlier. Then, within moments, he's back asleep.

#lightinsonder #siebren + lightinsonder ( sombra ).#siebren de kuiper.#so i wrote this whole thing before i realized it said waiting room #oh well this is what it is now lol

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coramatus · 2 years

Text

there were no instructions or fine print (part 3)

“To restore the lost, find my form and sacrifice yours”

That time Ingo got turned into a Sneasel because there were no instructions or fine print on the ancient mystical artifact

Based on ideas of the Transfer Error AU by @rosebloodcat on Tumblr

part one | two | three

drifting

Ingo sleeps.

He feels nothing. He thinks nothing.

All is dark.

But sometimes he catches glimpses of scenes.

Trees flying past. Heaving breaths. They’re running. Who is running? Everything hurts. He’s so tired…

His world fades to black once more.

Suddenly there’s bright lights. The scent of blood and harsh chemicals. Murmured words. Beeping sounds. His body feels limp and numb. He senses something happening to his side but he can’t tell what that is.

He sinks back down.

He resurfaces to the feeling of something stuck in his throat. Something is pinching at his wrist. Whooshing noises and more beeping surround him. He thinks of coughing, but his muscles have turned to jelly and won’t respond. Instead of panicking, he just accepts it.

His side is so sore.

Everything goes black again.

Faint sounds fill the air.

“…st a lot of blood… -ple ruptured organs… flail chest… intubated for a few… -ld have died if you ha… …found traces of old brain dam- …term starvation… he should survive this…”

“Oh thank god…”

Darkness.

Something rubs his head. Its touch is gentle, scratching behind his ears. He feels himself purring. The touch then vanishes. It’s quiet and he starts drifting off again. Distantly he thinks he hears a cry of “What do you mean it’s Ingo?!”

He fades.

A hand under his head. Silver-gray eyes staring, begging, wet.

“Ingo? Ingo, is that you? Please, please, tell me it’s still you.”

He whines as unconsciousness takes him once more.

Someone is crying. Another voice comforts them.

“He’s gone… He’s gone… I got him back but he— why…?”

“We don’t know that.”

“He was afraid of me!”

“I’m here,” Ingo wants to say, “I’m here, please don’t cry, Emmet.”

But instead, he simply drifts off.

Crying, but the hand is soft. So careful. Like he’ll break. He leans into it. Not a lot, but enough. It feels nice.

“I will take care of you,” a wavering voice sniffles. “No matter what. I promise you.”

He sleeps.

The next time he wakes, his head feels different. Less stuffed full of cotton, but still not quite all there.

He laboriously peels open his eyes and finds himself someplace dark and quiet. A quick sniff tells him that this is new. The invasive smell of acrid chemicals and sterility is gone. Now he’s somewhere warmer, dustier, human… and very familiar.

Ingo shifts, but stops when he feels bandages pulling over a sore spot. Looking down, he finds his midsection bound in thick wrappings. Sniffing at his side, he finds the scent of harsh ointments, telling him his body is on the mend.

A faint snore nearby makes him look up.

The giant— no… Emmet is asleep next to him. He’s sprawled upright on the couch, his head tilted back and resting on the edge as he gently snores. He’s still in his partially-unbuttoned work shirt, his coat missing, tie hanging untied, his hat removed only by virtue of it having fallen off beside him.

Emmet…

Ingo… remembers.

His brother.

His twin.

His smiling reflection in white…

“I like winning more than anything!” the man to his side proclaimed, positively beaming as he held up a Pok��ball in anticipation.

Fragments of memories start to slowly unfold, trickling back out from the dark recesses of his mind. Mere tidbits, but to his starved and aching psyche it’s a feast.

Brief flashes of battling together…

The first time they pulled off an Earthquake in the Battle Subway was glorious. The levels of wild glee on his twin brother’s face as Eelektross neatly levitated over the trembling floor, their opponents stumbling and falling over each other from Haxorous’s attack, was a sight to behold.

Of working together…

His brother eagerly bounced in place as together they monitored the last of the day’s trains docking in their bays, eyes roving the screens as he watched their locomotives dutifully chugging along, calling out directions for conductors on their routes.

Of playing together…

“Hah hah! I have your hat! Now with your hat on my hat, I have twice the power! Kneel before the Supreme Subway Boss!!”

His own dark-sleeved arm swung into view, neatly smacking away his twin’s haphazardly stacked headwear. Gray eyes lit up, smile widening as he grabbed at his exposed hair in mock histrionics,

“My hats!!”

Of growing up together…

“Come on! I wanna practice posing!” his little brother exclaimed as he dragged him over to their parents’ full-length mirror. He watched their reflection as the two gray-haired boys before them straightened their postures.

“OK, now put your back on my back and then point with your right hand and I’ll point with my left! Ready? One, two, three!”

Always at each other’s sides…

“Our combination is the best!” he boasted to the defeated pair of trainers before them. “It’s perfect!”

…how did he forget for so long?

Ingo’s heart cracks.

He wants to cry.

As he drowsily rubs at his tearing eyes, he distantly realizes that something is wrong with the vision before him.

Emmet doesn't look well. Faint tear tracks mar his face. His hair is a greasy mess. Dark circles line his eyes. His cheeks are more sunken than they should be.

He looks exhausted, worn.

Broken.

Ingo moves on instinct.

With care to his injury, he gingerly crawls up on Emmet’s chest and curls up directly over his heart. Hearing its strong beat reminds him of something buried deep. Of nights of worry and fright, when he was small and sought out another body to remind him he wasn’t alone. When he would listen to the heartbeat of his twin until it finally lulled him to sleep.

“…s’ok Ingo… ‘m here…” Emmet murmurs softly.

With Emmet’s heart thrumming underneath him, Ingo drifts off into an easy slumber.

#pokemon #pokemon legends #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon black and white #pokemon black 2 and white 2 #submas #subway boss emmet #warden ingo #transfer error au #coramatus’s writing #platonics relationships all the way down #no shipping at all #this little dude needs help

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writer-of-daydreams · 2 years

Text

A Long Mission (Pt. 3, Final Part)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word count: 2,992 words

Summary: You almost died on a mission, this is the aftermath.

Warnings: Lots of fluff

Author’s note: Ask and you shall receive! This one is for @fionanovasleftnut who requested a part two, and for @scarzxo and @justanothermagicalsara who wanted to be tagged! I trully apologize for how long it took me to finish this, I hope you guys ended up liking it.

The soft glow from the sun enters through the light brown curtains that have been pushed aside to let the light in. The window, which faces the beautiful landscape of upstate New York, is cracked open slightly to let the warm spring breeze in. Bucky's standing next to the window, looking out to the beautiful pink trees.

"You would love this," he whispers softly, turning to your laying form on the hospital bed. The beeping from the machines bringing him back to the reality. It has been a few weeks and you still haven't woken up.

"Their body took a huge hit," Dr. Cho explained. "It will take some time for it to heal."

Time. It has never been kind to Bucky so why would it start now. He moves to sit on the chair as he has been doing since your arrival. You are never alone in this room, Bucky and Tony made sure of that. If one wasn't there, the other would take his place and keep you company.

Morgan and Pepper would come visit sometimes too. Your younger sister would tell you stories about her day. "They can listen to me Mommy, I wan't to make sure they know everything that's happening" she once said to Pepper. And she did, she would tell you about the bugs she's seen in the yard, her newest toy and the adventures she has with Peter who's become like an older sibling to her.

Bucky sighs as he takes your hand and softly caresses it with his thumb. His memory brings him back to the mission and how cold your skin felt that day. If only he had gotten to you faster or if he hadn't gotten distracted by your smile he would've seen the man behind you.

"It wasn't your fault." Steve is standing in the doorway already reading his best friend's mind. "A lot of things went wrong on the mission, there was nothing you could've done," he continues as he walks closer to Bucky. He places a hand on his slumped shoulders on a weak attempt at comfort.

Bucky sighs as he sinks further into the chair, his hand never leaves yours.

"Have you eaten yet?" Steve asks. He already knows the answer but he still asks.

Bucky simply shakes his head, his gaze not leaving yours. It's as if he's afraid you might slip away if he stops looking at you.

Steve sighs, he knows better than to fight him again. They have been down this road way too many times these past few weeks. Instead he excuses with an "I'll be right back" and goes to find his friend something to eat. Bucky used to take care of him all the time when they were kids, it is only fair that he's the one taking care for a change. His bestfriend needs him and he won't leave him alone when he needs him the most.

On his way out, Steve passes through a somber looking Tony. He takes a mental note to bring food for two as he is sure Tony hasn't eaten as well. Pepper tried her best to take care of Tony but she knew he was as stubborn as a mule when he got deep into his thoughts.

Tony walked into the room and sat down opposite of Bucky.

"No changes?" he softly asked.

"None," Bucky answered. There was no hint of the banter they used to have. No mocking, no nicknames. Tony and Bucky settled into a quiet relationship, stilled in time waiting for you to wake up.

Tony has been extra careful on missions now, he's gone as far as not allowing Peter to go anymore. He's also reluctant to let Pietro and Wanda go since they were also young and fairly new to the team. When the rest of the team has to go on missions, he makes sure there is always a suit with them ready to help out. Even though it made the rest of the older Avenegers feel as though they were being babysat, they knew where it came from.

The room settled into a silence, as it often does when Tony and Bucky are there. The beeping of the machines is the only thing filling the silence. After a few minutes Steve comes back with lunch for both of his friends. He too sat down for a little while until F.R.I.D.A.Y. called them for a debriefing.

"Me too?" said Bucky, eyeing between Tony and the ceiling where the female voice came from.

"Yes, Sargeant Barnes," answered F.R.I.D.A.Y.. "Director Fury requires your prescence."

Bucky looks at Steve who only shrugs in response. There is no defying Fury's orders so he would have to leave the room. He hates the thought of leaving you alone like this.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y. is Peter here?" Tony asks in response to Bucky's silent question.

"Yes, he is at the lab with Dr. Banner."

"Perfect, tell him I need him to come over quickly please," Tony answered.

It is not often that Bucky and Tony can know what each other was thinking with a mere glance. This silent conversation was usually reserved for Steve or you. In Tony's case, only Pepper could read his mind. The rest of the crew guessed that it was because of you and their mutual concern for you that they can understand each other well.

It took Tony a long time for him to be ok with you and Bucky's romance. Of course it wasn't official since neither of you was brave enough to confess your feelings but the Avengers knew. It was only a matter of time before something brought you two together.

They just didn't want this something to be you on a coma.

Tony saw how happy Bucky made you, how carefree you were around him. He also saw how in turn, Bucky was also more comfortable around you than anyone else. With your suggestion, he began going to therapy and began opening up more to others. At first he would only talk to Steve, then you, now he was able to make small talk with everyone. Slowly, and with time, Tony caved in and accepted the idea of the two of you together. He just hoped it wasn't too late.

Peter walks into the room panting.

"I came as fast as I could Mr. Stark," he said.

"Thanks kid, I need you to stay here with Y/N." Your dad motions at you while Bucky stares at Peter. "We're going to an important meeting. No interrupting unless it's about Y/N, understood?"

"Yes Mr. Stark," Peter hurriedly nods and moves to occupy the now empty seat on your left. He wouldn't dare sit on Bucky's chair, everyonew knew that was his spot and nobody could take it.

Tony, Steve and Bucky leave the room to attend the meeting not before Bucky shot you a longing look. He hated being away from you, anything could happend to you, life made sure he knew that already. He wanted more than antyhing to never leave your side.

Steve patted him on the shoulder and gently pushed him towards the hallway.

"The quicker we get there, the quicker you can get back," Steve said.

They entered the elevator and gloomly walked to the meeting.

In your room Peter was now talking to you, rambling about his new project with Bruce.

"The nurse tells us to talk to you, that you might be listening," he said softly. He shifts in the chair rubbing his hands before reaching for yours. He remembers how pale you looked that day, after all, he was on the rescue mission.

He feels the warmth on your hand and lets go a sigh of relief. The first few days you were cold and pale. He looks up at you and blinks that image from his mind away. They're ok now, he reminds himself.

"Um," he starts again looking at your sleeping face. "You'd be happy to hear that I finally asked MJ out. I thought it'd be super awkward 'cause she's my friend but I think that actually made it more comfortable. Um, what else..." he trailed off thinking of the new topics he has yet to catch you up on. He went on to tell you about school, the latest projet with Bruce and all of his missions as Spider-Man.

On the other side of the compound, an anxious Bucky sits in the meeting with the rest of the Avengers. It has been more than a couple hours and the night settled in. He knows he should be focused on the person talking but his mind was elsewhere. It always was.

Nat lays a reassuring hand on his arm. "They're fine," she mouths. Bucky simply nods and shifts his gaze to Fury who was reprimanding the team once again for the mistakes made in the mission. He doesn't need a play by play from Fury; Bucky has done nothing but replay the mission in his head ever since you all came back.

Fury finishes the meeting and Bucky is out the door before he can change his mind and call them again. He doesn't hear his friends' concerned voices nor does he pay any mind to them as his only priority now is you. He promised himself he would be there when you woke up and that's exactly what he's going to do.

He reaches the medical wing on the Avengers campus when a feeling of uncertainty reaches him. Something is not right, he thinks to himself.

It is not long until F.R.I.D.A.Y's voice sounds loud and clear on the speaker: "Sargeant Barnes, Peter Parker wants to communicate with you."

Her calm voice cuts out to a frantic Peter who is almost yelling as the message would reach Bucky faster that way. "Mr. Barnes, Sir, Sargeant? You should come quickly, I think they're waking up or, or I don't know 'cause their hand started moving and the machine went crazy and I-"

Bucky didn't hear anything else. Blood pumping in his ears, heartbeat racing in his chest, Bucky was sprinting to your room. He prayed to whatever god was out there, whatever deity would listen, that you'd be alright.

He sprinted into the room, not minding the chaos of nurses and doctors surrounding you. Not minding the sound of a frantic Peter who was trying to tell Bucky what happened. He didn't even notice time passing as he saw you there, laying in the same bed you have been for weeks, with your eyes softly opened and directed at him.

You smiled weakly at the man in front of you. You had felt scared waking up in a strange room, with needles poking out of you and machines beeping around you. That sensation soon vanished, of course, as soon as Bucky walked into the room.

He crossed the short space that separated the two of you in a matter of seconds. Bucky's hands were shaking, he wanted to touch you, needed to touch you more than he needed air but he was afraid of hurting you.

You saw the conflict in Bucky's eyes and slowly extended your hand from under the covers so that he could take it. Softly, ever so gently, Bucky wrapped his hands around yours and pressed a soft kiss to the tips of the fingers.

"There's something really important I have to tell you sweetheart," he whispered as he moved one hand to caress your cheek.

Bucky didn't care that the room was filling up with the rest of the Avengers, he didn't care that the nurses and Doctor Cho were waiting to examine you. In fact, neither of you two noticed because at this moment, right at this second, the only thing that mattered was your hands intertwined and your eyes on each other holding all the love in the universe.

Bucky looked at you straight into your eyes and gathered all the courage he had. "Y/N, you are the most important person that I have in my life, even more so than Steve-"

You heard a complaining noise coming from Steve and saw Nat elbowing him to shut him up. You softly chukled at the two and moved your attention back to Bucky.

You were about to reply when he interrupted you.

"Please let me finish." Part of the urgency was the need of confessing everything he has felt for you all these years but never did for fear of you rejecting him, or that he wasn't good enough for you. “You are the best thing that‘s happened to me. You’ve made me more human by seeing me as Bucky rather than the Winter Soldier. You never gave up on me, even when I did, and for that I am grateful. I am telling you this-“ Bucky took a sharp breath in and you finally realized how much you truly meant to him. You saw the pain in his eyes and the black circles that adorned them. You took in his unkept hair and the stubble of his beard growing. You imagined if the situations were reversed and it was him who almost died in your arms, realizing that you would be in the same shape as he is right now.

But that’s because I love him, you thought to yourself. Surely he doesn’t feel the same way, unless-

“Sweetheart, I thought I lost you.” His hands trembled on yours and you saw a few tears beginning to fall. You wiped them with your free hand and caressed his cheek. He turned his head towards the palm of your hand and gave it a soft kiss. “I love you y/n,“ he finally whispered. “I can’t lose you again.”

"Oh Bucky," you softly whispered back. "I love you too."

He leans in to give you a soft kiss on the lips. It was everything you expected it to be and better. His lips were soft on yours and the sparked the collision of your lips with each other caused was enough energy to bring you back to life ten thousand times.

"Ok, ok, enough of that." Your father interrupts you two as he moves to give you a tight hug. "Don't do that to me again peanut."

"I won't, I promise" you softly whispered.

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

You were sitting on the edge of the window by the library. The tall rows of books that surrounded you provided you certain stability and comfort. It was summer but the A/C in the compound would be turned to the max so you wrapped a blanket around your legs to provide you with a little bit of warmth.

You stared at the window looking at the sight of upstate New York. It has been a few months since you left the hospital but the fight to recovery was not over. Much to your protests, you were supposed to go to physical therapy to rehabilitate your muscles that weakened during the whole ordeal. Your father, and Nick Fury, also made you go to therapy before you were cleared to go back to any mission.

Since you were not allowed to train outside rehab, and you were not allowed to go to missions, most of your days were spent at the library, the couch, or with Morgan who would come to visit after school most of the time.

You would also spend it with Bucky.

The two of you had been inseparable since you left the hospital but eventually Bucky was cleared to return to missions after some therapy sessions, which left you alone when the rest of team left without you. Today was one of those days.

You sighed at the boredom you felt. If it had been up to you, you would have already been back on missions and working. However, you knew better than to contradict Tony and Fury.

You stand up from your seat, the slowly slipping off from your legs. You walked through the wooden floors towards an old record player that sat atop a small desk on the library. You could've asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. to play music but something about the scratchiness of the old sound brought you comfort.

Carefully, you analyzed the collection of vinyl records and selected one of old blues. Bucky would like this one, you thought to yourself as you carefully placed it in the record player.

The silence was slowly filled with the tune as you hummed along to the song. You started to sway to the song when you felt a strong pair of hands hug you from behind.

You spun around, eyes widening in surprise. A smile quickly formed in your face when you recognized Bucky in front of you.

"You're back already?" You exclaimed, "I thought you wouldn't be back for days."

The excitement within you could not be contained and it was so contagious it had Bucky smiling even though he was worn down from the mission.

"We finished early," he said spinning you around, "and it seems like I got here just in time to dance with my favourite person."

He closed the gap between the two and you wrapped your arms behind his neck. Your foreheads touching each other.

You stood there breathing each other in, taking as much as you could of each other's presence. The mission taught you both that one does not have the luxury of wasting time because of fear and the "what if's." You both took the leap and now nobody could take away the love you had for each other.

"I love you," he softly whispered, lips ghosting yours.

You tightened the embrance and kissed him in response. You poured all of your feelings into that kiss as if it were the last.

"I love you too," you said, just in case he didn't know.

But he did, he knew and you knew and now the entire world knew the love you had that neither of you would let go of anytime soon.

#bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel #tony stark x gender neutral! child

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myreygn · 2 years

Text

Misty Years

summary: Kuroo Tetsurou may be hella smart, but it takes a broken family, an almost crushed shoulder and an unexpected phone call for him to understand that he's not irrelevant. Not to everyone, at least.

an: this is a translation of my own german story (also on ao3) for @heyoitsgenderconfusion and uh, yeah, i hope you like it :)

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♫·¯·♪¸¸♩·¯·♬¸¸

Tetsurou is five when his mother leaves and eight when he understands that she's gone. Not that he hadn't noticed that before, but it's just always been kind of there, haunting around him with a whisper and lurking under the surface.

And one morning, when Tetsurou gets up, enters the kitchen and sees his father sitting at the table alone, there's a thought in his mind that's never been there before: “Okaasan isn't coming back.” He's right. He's already made the experience that he's right pretty often, but on this day, for the first time, he wishes that he wasn't. A few years later Tetsurou learns that those kind of wishes don't come true, when he wishes for the machine to beep for a little longer and it goes silent anyways.

In primary school, his teacher tells him that he's a strong child, because he had to endure so much loss at a young age and still manages to go on. Tetsurou doesn't feel flattered, because going on means forgetting and not properly honoring the lost ones. Tetsurou is eight and a half when his grandmother tells him this at the funeral and twenty-three when he realizes that it's not true. But between eight and twenty-three lie fifteen long years in which the feeling of being a bad person follows him at every turn. Haunting around him with a whisper, lurking under the surface, but there. In retrospect he asks himself whether it really would've been better if he had recognized that earlier, because that would've made him a different person and he actually likes himself just fine by now. He doesn't come to a clear answer, just to the conclusion that he would've liked to hold the right conversations a tad earlier.

Not with Kenma. Kenma is one of the most important people in his life and Tetsurou is twelve when he tells him this, but Kenma isn't the kind of attachment figure you talk to. He also doesn't answer when he hears that cheesy sentence, that had been hanging between them for quiet some time and that he had probably already seen coming, because Kenma is just like that and smiles and says nothing. That's not bad. That's what Tetsurou loves about him. Kenma isn't very good at making first steps, or making second steps, but he can be present and sometimes that's everything Tetsurou needs, because everything's always too much for him. Kenma is never too much and sometimes too little, but at least he's there and that already makes him a lot better than those who aren't.

It can be really good to have someone who pushes your borders and challenges you though and Tetsurou is in high school when he realizes that. He never had someone like that in his life before; who would that have been, anyway? Kenma doesn't talk much, his father talks too much and his grandmother only talks when she has some controversy to spread. He doesn't know whether his grandfather talked much, because the first memory he has of him is an old man who stares at the ceiling, accompanied by the beeping of a machine. Tetsurou is fourteen when he meets Yaku Morisuke and has an equally balanced conversation for the first time.

It takes a little while for them to become friends, but honestly, he feels like he's learned more about Yaku during the time they needed for this than during the time after. The Libero had driven him crazy more than once, but he wouldn't change a thing, because it built his character and the things he likes about himself now are mainly things he has to credit Yaku for. Making peace with him was still a relief.

Tetsurou is fifteen when he has a panic attack for the first time and Yaku turns out to be the best thing which happened to him that year. At least that's what Kenma says and when Kenma bothers to comment on something, he must've thought if through. And he's right. Tetsurou doesn't even want to know what he would've done that night if Yaku hadn't been there.

After that, first year in high school is a good year. It's easier to fit into the team and also the classes are way more fun without getting distracted constantly. The first training camp in summer is only the icing on the cake.

Tetsurou is fifteen and a half when he crashes into Bokuto Koutarou at the gym entrance and almost bruises his shoulder in the process. His arm, which he used to catch himself, throbs uncomfortably and some enormous weight on his chest leaves him breathless, then it vanishes.

“Oh shit, are you hurt?! I'm so sorry, I really need to be more careful, sorry! Can you stand up? Can I help you?”

These are the first words he hears out of Bokuto's mouth. In one of his endless speeches about himself, his father once said that the first impression is the most impressive and never has he been so right, because that face Bokuto makes, that mixture of guilt and worry, he never forgets.

“Next time, buy me dinner before harassing me like this,” he says and allows that he's pulled back to his feet. Tetsurou is still fifteen and a half when Bokuto buys him Katsudon as an apology and somehow becomes his friend.

It's all very easy with Bokuto. Bokuto is the first one with whom he can just let go. He can't do that with Kenma. Kenma tries his best, but he's not strong enough to catch both of them and that's okay. That's not important anymore. Bokuto just gets him, because no matter how dense he might seem sometimes, his emotional intelligence is unmatched among all the people he knows.

Tetsurou is sixteen when Bokuto sees him cry for the first time and he would've never thought that it would feel so good to tell him about his broken family. On that day, everything around him gets less dark and knowing that Bokuto is there for him makes the sun of Tetsurou's world rise every day.

One of the best things about Bokuto Koutarou is that there's more of his kind and to be honest, you can never have enough people like him in your life. Tetsurou is seventeen when he visits his friend at home and meets his sisters. He has a sister himself, but Tsunade left over ten years ago with Okaasan and they haven't been in contact ever since. There was always a part of him that felt like it was missing and for the first time someone attempts to close this wound: Bokuto Tomomi and Bokuto Asuga are neither less loud nor less cordial than their little brother and they treat Tetsurou as if he'd always been a part of the family.

He's at Bokuto's place often now, more often than he's at his own and almost as often as he's at Kenma's. Tomomi and Asuga are always there to ask him questions: how was your day, how are you, what are you up to and one might think that it's too much, but maybe, Tetsurou thinks, too much is exactly what he needs right now. After all, he always had Kenma who was just right, then Yaku who teased him and bordered on being overwhelming and now... now he has Tomomi and Asuga who shower him in affection and it feels good.

Now he has Bokuto. And Bokuto is always way too much, always way too loud, always way too excited, always way too close, always way too himself and it feels so, so good to have this complete and utter stimulus satiation around. Sometimes he feels like Bokuto's smiles are blinding him and Bokuto's hugs are crushing him, but then he looks at Bokuto and feels comfortable, because the blinding smile becomes a light at the end of the tunnel and the crushing hug becomes a safe cave in which he can hide when he's done with the world.

Tetsurou is eighteen when he falls in love.

“Why don't you just attach a luminous advertising to your face?” Kenma asks him after a practice match against Fukurodani and that it's apparently really that obvious is like being thrown into freezing water. But the worst part is that Kenma isn't the only one to notice. Everyone seems to.

“You're making heart eyes,” Yaku informs him and he hastily looks away from Bokuto who's wiping the sweat off his forehead, knows that he's blushing, because the Libero has that stupid grin on his face.

“Why don't you just ask him to go out with you?” even Sawamura meddles at the next training camp and when his eyes search those of the other captain, he's met with a smile – genuine, apparently in good faith, and when he shakes his head, appalled, the crow just shrugs. “Just a thought. I think he'd say yes.”

Of course Tetsurou doesn't ask. He's not an idiot.

He also doesn't understand how Sawamura even gets the idea that Bokuto could agree to go on a date with him. Yes, he's always very close to him, hugging him, kissing him on the cheek from time to time, but that's just Bokuto. Bokuto's also this close to Akaashi, right? He doesn't make a difference between best friend and good friend. Right?

Tetsurou is nineteen when he moves in with Bokuto and everything becomes a lot easier, but also a lot harder. It's nothing bad to have a roommate and living with your best friend is the total win, but hiding love feelings away from your best friend when you're living with them is the opposite of easy. It's not even the exuberant greetings after a rough day, or the long hugs after a won match that get to Tetsurou; it's the little things that happen all the time throughout everyday life and that are unavoidable, because there's no sign of them about to happen. Like when Bokuto laughs about something and their eyes meet and the wide smile on his face, for a brief second, looks like it's meant just for him, Tetsurou. Like when Bokuto pokes his side in passing, because he thinks it's funny how Tetsurou flinches and laughs every time. Like when Bokuto grabs him by the wrist to pull him forward, because Tetsurou is way too slow for him, because Bokuto is always so excited and has to share his excitement at all costs. Like when Bokuto ruffles his hair playfully, because... actually, Tetsurou has no idea why Bokuto does that, but he likes it. He likes it and at the same time it drives him crazy.

Tetsurou doesn't realize that Bokuto isn't that close to anyone else, not even Akaashi. Or maybe he just doesn't want to realize it, because that would mean, that he would actually have to deal with that whole love thing. Because that would mean that he's top priority for someone and maybe that would be too much. Although he was Kenma's top priority for a long time (even if he gets the impression that Hinata Shoyo surpassed him – which is okay), but Kenma has never really been emotional and as long as it just hovers in the air silently, Tetsurou can cope with it. But things never hover in the air silently with Bokuto. With Bokuto, everything is screamed and declared and presented and Tetsurou isn't used to someone loving him so openly. His grandmother and his father love him, of course, but he can count the times they told him that on one hand, because they just aren't that kind of people. Kenma loves him in that very own, intensely platonic way and Tetsurou can count the times the younger one hinted at that on one hand, because he just isn't that kind of person. Yaku isn't very exuberant as well and rather expresses his affection through violence than through actions which can actually be recognized as affectionate. And Tetsurou knows that he's loved, but he somehow only knows it subconsciously, because no one ever tells him and sometimes, when everything is shit already and he can't sleep, he thinks that people probably couldn't even love him if they wanted to, because if they could, Okaasan wouldn't have left in the first place. Right?

Tetsurou is twenty and a half when Tsunade calls him and he realizes that the fifteen years without a mother and a sister probably got more to him than he wants to admit after all. She tells him that their father gave her his phone number, that she's in Tokyo again and that she'd like to meet him and he says Wow and Okay and I'll call you back and hangs up. When Bokuto comes home two hours later, he's been texting Kenma for what feels like an eternity already, but still doesn't know whether he really wants to call her back and then he lies on the couch for two more hours and cries and talks to Bokuto, because talking to Bokuto always helps. He doesn't even know why Tsunade's phone call bothers him this much. He has pushed the thought of her away for a long time and came to terms with her leaving him alone. And when Bokuto asks him why he just accepted that his own sister hadn't want to see him for fifteen years, he says that it was sort of irrelevant for the past three years, because he has had Tomomi and Asuga. And it clicks, because Tomomi and Asuga are kind of the problem. They were there for him, they were twice the sister he never had. And what if Tsunade is everything he hopes for and more? Can he replace Tomomi and Asuga just like that? Can he replace Tsunade with Tomomi and Asuga? Is it okay for him to put Bokuto's sisters above his own? Is he scared of disappointing one of them, or scared of doing something wrong? Is he scared of everything being too much?

And just one second after this realization, Bokuto forces him to sit up, takes his hands and says: “You're not irrelevant, Tetsu” and it clicks again. It clicks, because this is the most honest and beautiful thing anyone has ever told him, because this is exactly what he's been wanting to hear for the past years and then he leans forward and kisses Bokuto, because it feels right.

Tetsurou is twenty-one when he lies in the park next to Tsunade and tries to describe the feeling that Bokuto gives him to her. It's actually just like before, but better. Lighter. Warmer. Tsunade nods and says that she understands; him agreeing to meet with her, she explains, somehow made her life calm down – I know what you mean, she says, there was a thunderstorm before and he shakes his head and says No, No, he says, there was mist. But now there's no mist anymore. Now there's Bokuto and Bokuto is the sun.

To meet with Tsunade wasn't that bad, actually; now he has three sisters and someone to talk to when his grandmother dies two years later. Someone who tells him that he's not a bad person for being a teeny-tiny bit relieved about not being criticized for everything anymore.

He doesn't meet his mother. He doesn't want to. His family is big enough and there's no place for a woman who doesn't even consider sending her regards through his sister. Tetsurou is twenty-five when Bokuto proposes to him and Tsunade jokes that he should keep always keep an eye on her brother, then she hugs him and whispers that she'll do that too, from now on.

Tetsurou is twenty-six when he says Yes and the mist vanishes completely.

#rey writes #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! fic #bokuroo #kuroo tetsurou #bokuto koutarou #kuroo tetsurou x bokuto koutarou #kuroo tetsurou's sister #bokuto koutarou's sisters #kozume kenma #yaku morisuke #nekoma #hurt/comfort #sort of #idk man a little angsty and fluffy to fix it

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lacharcutiere · 3 years

Text

ur my favorite drug & my worst hangover [nsfw 18+, terushima yūji]

5,9k words

✯haikyuu!! masterlist✯

winter sem break brings the new year, & a few other new developments too.

smut, tiny bit of angst, fwb, fluff // quit - lil aaron & travis barker. god this song goes so hard

the way all i talk abt is how much i love teru but have nothing to show for it— yeah we’re gonna fix that. man i love him

☾𓆙𓂻

— SOBER

the soft hum of the tv in the background slowly fades into your awareness as you blink blearily awake, almost forgetting where you are for a second.

you’re in yūji’s living room, duh. your semestral break has not been nearly as interesting as either of you’d hoped: instead, you’ve both succumbed to alternating between each other’s childhood homes, binging netflix and random youtube videos and eating chips and tubs of ice cream late into the night, as has been your custom for years.

it’s dim but for the glow of the screen, and it’s kind of chilly in here now, even with you wrapped up in a hoodie. (yours, not yūji’s. you only borrow his in emergencies.)

he’s not next to you now, but his footsteps—you know them by now: quick and kind of heavy but not overbearingly loud—are entering the room again, and you feel the sofa cushions dip a little as he retakes his seat next to you.

“hey,” he says, smiling, “you’re awake.”

“hmmph,” you mumble, sitting upright to stretch your back. “what time is it?”

“uh.” he squints at the digital clock next to the tv. “like one?”

“‘m cold.”

“me too.”

“‘nd tired.”

“you just woke up?”

“i’m tired,” you whine.

yūji groans. “you’re really gonna make me go to sleep this early?”

“you don’t have to sleep, but i will.”

“yeah,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “but who’s gonna keep me company then?”

“i dunno,” you shoot back, “text tetsu or something. he’s probably still up.”

he rolls his eyes but relents, standing from the sofa. “fine.” and he holds out a hand to help you up, which you don’t take.

“i can do shit for myself,” you joke, rolling your eyes.

“right.”

—

it’s not much warmer in his room despite the thermostat supposedly being set to an acceptable temperature, but at least the sleeping bag on the floor next to yūji’s bed is insulated, and he’s given you a couple extra blankets for which you’re grateful. the biting chill of january does not fuck around.

so you nestle yourself into a little cocoon of linens and pillows and pull your hood up, curling into a ball in an effort to conserve your body heat. you hear him laugh a little as he watches you.

“what?”

“nothing.”

there’s the light hum of a phone ringing a few times, and that little beep as tetsu picks up the facetime call.

sleep clouds your senses to the background music of stifled laughter and loud whispers and the occasional static of yūji’s phone speaker.

— BUT U PULLED ME CLOSER

the next few minutes, hour—you have no idea—pass just like that, with you drifting languidly in and out of sleep and the sounds of yūji and tetsurō’s voices audible but incomprehensible in the background.

last you remember, you’re slipping back under again, hearing tetsu through the staticky iphone speaker.

and then you wake up again because you’re fucking freezing and it’s quiet and the lights are off, except for the little reading light mounted to the headboard of yūji’s bed. you sit up on your elbows, craning your neck, and see that he’s still up, lying on his stomach with his phone dimly illuminating his face.

“what time’s it?” you mumble.

“uh... 2:38.” he pauses. “y’alright?”

“cold,” you say.

he locks his phone then, and he just looks at you kind of blankly and maybe a little mockingly? except it must not be mocking; it must be something else, because he’s just kind of... studying you.

you look back up at him expectantly. “what?” you say.

he sighs, kind of rolls his eyes, turns away from the light to hide the little smile playing on his lips. “come on up here.” he scoots over and pats the spot next to him.

thankful for an extra source of body heat and blankets and pillows, you shove yourself up off the ground and shuffle over to the bed.

it’s kind of funny, the way you’re basically adults now and yet your relationship’s still fundamentally the same as it was when you met years ago.

—

duh, yūji hates that. it’s true, that whole thing about how “every one of your guy friends has thought about fucking you at some point.” it’s true, at least for him.

and there’s something electric in how you haven’t slept next to him in months because you’ve both been busy with school, and now you’re back here. back here, where it feels like you belong.

there’s something deep in his chest that’s set aflame by the way you laugh and let him tuck the comforter over you; the way your sweatpant-covered legs brush against his own underneath it.

he wants to touch you.

he wants to wrap his hand around your thigh and pull it over his own; to run his fingertips up the length of your arm and make you shiver; to snake his around your waist and pull your head into his chest.

maybe he will once you’re asleep, he figures. once his pride can’t be hurt because you don’t have to know.

except... except he’d let it be hurt for you. without a moment’s hesitation. he would shatter it himself for you, would let you take him in your fingers and rip him to pieces too small to be puzzled back together.

because maybe he doesn’t just want you. maybe he loves you.

but even he, completely truthfully, doesn’t know.

he’s got a sneaking suspicion that he does, though, because he’s rarely confused and this is an enigma he can’t quite seem to decipher, no matter what he tries.

it’s absurd, too, he realizes laying on his back next to you, how suddenly he’s afraid to touch you. because the two of you have always been touchy, that’s just you. you’re two halves; you’re so similar. you’ve been attached at the hip since childhood—why is it different now, now that he wants that more than anything?

so here he is, spiraling in this conundrum of feelings, when it’s cut short by you, tiredly whining, “yūji.”

“what?” he sort of feigns annoyance.

“‘m cold.”

“and?”

and. and his breath catches because you roll over and latch onto him. and he brings his arms around your shoulders and holds you to his chest.

so close, and yet so far away.

and he shudders as you lay one hand flat on his chest. it belongs there forever.

you nuzzle your nose into his shoulder and inhale his scent and his brain short-circuits.

has she done this before?

and mostly unconscious, you mumble, “—warm. y’re pretty’.” his eyes go wide.

“what?”

your arms tighten around him, and he’d hate to admit it, but it’s setting him off. he’s... a little hard.

a hand settles itself on your thigh, the one that’s draped over his legs, and he pushes it downward a little, so that it’s not resting next to the rising erection in his pajama pants.

god, he wants to fuck you so badly right now, he wants for you to feel him throbbing between your legs as you whimper against his skin. but he also wants you to want him.

miraculously, a little sigh escapes your lips at the touch. so he doesn’t move his hand.

“feels nice,” you whisper.

so he decides to test the waters, and squeezes gently. you giggle sleepily.

inhibitions dissipating for a moment, his stomach leaps to his chest and he snakes that hand up over your hip, consciously avoiding your ass just in case, and rests it on your back, rubbing up and down slowly.

his chest constricts as you snuggle even closer to him. and then your leg moves back up and your thigh nudges his crotch.

your eyes snap open and he inhales sharply.

and then you’re propped up on your elbow, leaning over him.

he curses himself for forgetting to turn off the light; the flush in his cheeks is obvious.

half terrified and half excited, he watches as your face breaks into a wide, shit-eating grin.

“what?” he breathes.

your eyes narrow; a look of mischief he’s so familiar with, one that’s often mirrored on his own features. (it’s not now.)

“yūji,” you say, singsong and bright, “what’s this?”

and—oh, god, oh, fuck—you bring a hand down to rest on his dick, tenting in his pajamas.

he doesn’t know what to say to you.

“i— uhm—”

“hmm,” you hum. “y’ alright?”

he clears his throat, nods. “are— uh, are you?”

“mhm,” you laugh, wide awake now. “yūji...” you pause. he can’t stand it; he needs to know what happens next, needs to know what’s fanning the flames behind your eyes.

oh god. oh god, all he leaves is a breath in between and then you’re throwing your leg over him again and, fuck, you’re straddling him. he lets out a shaky breath, voice tight as he chokes out, “what are you doing?”

the smile is gone from your face now, replaced with something softer, something lustful. your hands move to his shoulders to balance yourself as you grind your hips down, and a low ahh slips out of him.

it’s just like that, just your clothed bodies rubbing together. he comes embarrassingly quickly in his boxers, but he lets you ride his thigh until you finish as recompense.

afterward, he excuses himself and cleans himself off in the bathroom. when he comes back, you’re sound asleep again.

that’s all that happens.

— UR GONNA FUCK ME UP

following that, everything proceeds as it had before. neither of you bother to speak of it, but nothing even seems off between you at all. it’s as if it never happened.

or maybe, yūji sometimes allows himself to think as he touches himself to the memory in the middle of nights when you’re not together, it’s like it was meant to happen.

what a wonderful illusion that is.

because he knows it won’t work, and if you ever thought about him like that, you would know, too.

the two of you have watched each other fall in love—get dumped, ghost people, whatever—several times over the past few years. he remembers your first boyfriend, your last year of middle school: the guy had been a mutual friend that you’d been crushing on for months. and yet, when you’d finally become a thing, it had taken no more than a couple of weeks for you to grow uninterested and dump him.

it’s not like he hasn’t done similar things in the past.

and it’s not like some people who’ve dated either of you haven’t had better luck; there have been several who have been the ones to break your hearts.

but both of you have yet to have maintained a long-term relationship, and neither of you have kept in contact with many of your exes.

he doesn’t want to be another one of those, and he certainly doesn’t want you to be, either.

—

it’s maybe a week after that night when you pick him up to go get takeout and ice cream.

that, in itself, is a pretty normal thing.

but then you’re sitting in your car, and between spoonfuls of mocha chip and hot caramel, you say, “so i saw this thing.”

“hm?” he responds, his mouth still full.

“your aura is striking, dude,” you quote. there’s a pause as you try to suppress a giggle. and then: “can i kiss you deeply, bro?”

he snorts and jokes, “anytime you want.” and he really hopes that you take his tone at face value, but he also knows you way better than that.

so he’s only half surprised when you actually do. half surprised, and wholly in awe.

your hands are in each other’s hair. it’s quick—feverish, but quick—and the first thing you say when you pull back is, “tastes like sugar.”

he laughs again, unsure of what move to make next. “yeah?”

and then you’re... shy? because you look away from him, back down to the cup of ice cream in your lap, and you say, “you feel good.” it’s so low that it’s almost unintelligible. but he hears you.

both your faces are burning when you look back up at him. “should we talk about that?”

“‘bout what? kissing? ‘s not the first time.”

it isn’t—he kissed you once in middle school, because there was this other girl that he’d thought was pretty, and he wanted to make her jealous. it hadn’t worked; she’d just thought the two of you were together, and a teacher had scolded you for pda. but at least it had been a fun story to laugh at for a while after.

this is obviously different, though, and you both know that. this kiss wasn’t to make anyone jealous. this one was for yourselves.

and anyway, that’s not what you meant by that.

“no,” you say. “the um... last week. at your place.”

“oh, yeah.”

“should we, um, do you wanna talk about it?”

“d’you?”

you shrug.

“alright,” he says. pauses. “so... what was that about?”

and you almost laugh incredulously. “you’re asking me?”

he stares blankly.

“you’re the one who got a boner when we were cuddling, yūji. as if we’ve never done that before.” you notice the mortified look on his face, and your expression softens and your voice lowers. “you wanna tell me what that was about? you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

and he laughs nervously and says, “no, no, ‘s fine. i was just kinda horny, that’s all. i haven’t hooked up with anyone in a while, y’know?”

you give him a sardonic grin. “and that’s why it only took you, like, three minutes to come?”

“yeah... yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

a moment passes where you stop and think for a little, and then you turn back to look at him. “it was, uh, good, though. like, objectively. it was good.”

it’s his turn to flash a grin at you: “‘course it was. it’s me.”

“and me.”

“shoulda won the sex gods superlative in last year’s yearbook.”

“ha.” another thing crosses your mind: “and now look at us. too busy with school to even have time to fuck anyone.”

yūji doesn’t say anything, so you do it for him.

you start out carefully. “but...”

“but?”

“do you— i mean. we’ve got, like, what? three weeks left before we go back? and we’re stuck here. and— and we already hang out like every single day anyway, and. uh. and it was objectively good.”

“are you—”

“and i’ve known you for years. come on. there’s, like, nothing i could do to embarrass myself around you anymore.”

friends with benefits. you’re suggesting that you temporarily be friends with benefits.

“and it wasn’t weird after last time,” you add. “i think.”

“hm,” he says, “yeah, no, it wasn’t.”

his first instinct is to say no, to tell you it’s a bad idea. but as he thinks about it more, he realizes that you’re kind of right. and anyway, what is the worst that could happen? because he’s pretty sure he’s far gone enough for you that falling a little further wouldn’t change a thing. even if he weren’t, he’d never think of hurting you intentionally.

and, he figures, he’d hardly mind being hurt by you.

—

that is how you end up back in his bed an hour later—his parents are out on a date this evening; you’ve got until a few hours past sundown to fuck and clean yourselves off and make it look like you’ve been eating and talking and watching tv the whole time.

outside of the guise of midnight impulses, it is a strange—but also strangely pleasant—thing to be having sex with your best friend.

there’s no pretense, hardly any need to keep up appearances (at least, for you). you’re not strangers only concerned with your own pleasure; you know each other. despite never actually having done this before, he already knows what you like, and vice versa.

it’s nice.

it’s nice to hear him laugh when you whine for him to stop being so gentle, vanilla-ass bitch, only to have him call you a “horny little—” (to which you respond, no, you.)

and it’s nice to sleep with someone who reads all the cues you give him without you even needing to say anything.

it is possibly the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

it is possibly the best sex you’ve ever had in your life, and... it might not be just because of the dynamic between you two, or the fact that you don’t have to be afraid to tell him what you like and what you don’t—the fact that you don’t even have to tell him at all.

it’s nice. for you. and it’s hell for him.

it’s hell for him to have to hold back all the sweet nothings he wants to whisper in your ear—he’s restricted to you like that, huh, baby? and fuuuck and god, you’re so fucking tight, and he knows you’re into it, but he wants to be treating you like a princess right now. he wants to call you his, wants to whisper, tell me you’re all mine against your bare shoulders, wants to tell you he loves you.

so... he does love you.

but he can’t say that. he knows he can keep you around, but you’re not his to keep.

—

it continues like that for the next several days: you fuck, it’s good sex, and he’ll touch himself to the memories if you’re not there: memories of how you taste, of the softness of your skin, of you with your legs around his waist and your bare chests pressed together, damp and warm with sweat.

it is so gratifying, and even more painful.

and then, one day, as he’s fucking you in your childhood bedroom—all white walls covered in sketches and colorful postcards you’ve accumulated over the years—something is slightly off.

there’s something about it that feels more intimate than the other times, and it goes slower than before. it’s not all lust and clothes tossed haphazardly on the floor and bodies shoved hurriedly into mattresses.

you kiss him for a long time before any clothing comes off, and you keep pulling him back to your lips as he thrusts into you. you’re not urging him faster, more, harder; you let him keep a steady pace and arch your back into the sheets as you lie underneath him.

it hits him as you come down from your orgasm and writhe in his arms, softly moaning, “god, yūji, i l—”

he stops.

“don’t say that,” he says.

still shaking and catching your breath, you respond, “what?”

“just don’t.” but his tone is casual, and so you don’t think much of it.

—

you don’t hook up every time you hang out, and yeah. you were right. it’s hardly different than before. except, isn’t it?

you’re sitting on opposite sides of your sofa one morning after your parents have left for work—he slept over the previous night, but you didn’t have sex. you’d spent it laughing over the dumbest things and blasting music as you drove around without a destination.

your’re sitting with your knees pulled against your chest, scrolling lazily on your phone while you and yūji eat handfuls of cereal straight from the box between you.

it’s mostly quiet for once; comfortably silent. neither of you have ever really been a morning person.

— BUT U KNOW I LIKE IT

the ice cracks a little when he stops shoving your hand away to grab himself another handful of cereal. you notice, and then you wonder if you always noticed little things like that, because it feels kind of weird to. not that you mind.

meanwhile, yūji watches you, studying the way your hair falls messily around your face, the way one sleeve of your sweatshirt is rolled halfway up your forearm and the other is pulled all the way over your hand.

the living room is bright, surrounded by windows, and you’re illuminated by light yellow late-morning sunlight all around and he feels safe looking at you.

the ice cracks a little more when he says your name softly.

“hm?” you say, confusedly looking up at him.

“nothing,” he answers, too quickly. “i’m just... happy right now.”

you smile, radiant. “i’m glad you are.”

—

in the afternoon, you’ve grown bored and are wandering the streets of your neighborhood, voicing thoughts and pointing out people you pass by.

it’s still early, but it’s january, so the sun is already beginning to set.

when you’re a couple minutes out from your house, yūji goes quiet, and it stays like that for the rest of the walk.

and then, as he stands next to you while you unlock the door, he blurts, “i have to tell you something.”

you freeze. “what?”

it’s silent for a bit. “never mind.”

“yūji—”

“it’s okay,” he says softly.

he wants to shrink away from your gaze as you study him. he knows you know there’s something amiss, and second thoughts have almost always been his own personal hell.

graciously, though, you don’t ask. and it’s like stepping through a portal when you’re back inside; it’s all forgotten and back to how it was before.

—

but: a little while later, you’re lying side-by-side on your bed watching netflix again, and for whatever reason you turn to look at him for a moment and it’s just—

you can’t look away. and you don’t know why.

he can feel your eyes on him and it burns, and he wonders how much longer he can keep this up before he loses his mind.

when he doesn’t turn to face you, you call his name softly.

“hm?”

after an uncomfortable moment of hesitation, you say, “something’s up.”

“what?”

“yūji,” you repeat, and he forgets to breathe for a second. “are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

the mattress shifts under his weight as he sits up, resting his head in his hands. he takes a deep breath and can’t bring himself to meet your eyes.

“what’s wrong?” it sounds less like a question and more like a plea.

“i—” he starts, and then stops himself. “i can’t, i can’t do this to you.”

“can’t do what?”

there’s a painful silence, heavy with anticipation and maybe a little bit of dread.

“i don’t wanna keep hooking up with you.”

you sit up, too.

“did i...? do something wrong?”

he shakes his head and sighs, and he sounds exasperated. “it’s... no, it’s— i think...” and he seems to grow more frustrated as he fails to verbalize whatever it is, this strange cold fire stinging in the pit of his stomach.

“what do you think?” you whisper.

and he stands and walks to the door. his hand rests on the knob and he whispers back, in a voice that sounds precariously close to breaking, “you, when i... y’know. ’m sorry.”

and he’s gone.

and you have no idea what to think, both of what he just said and the fact that it sends an excited buzz through your nerves, even though it probably shouldn’t.

— IT'S HARD N IT'S HARDER TO ADMIT

his words are stuck in your head all night, have you caught somewhere in between laughing and crying.

you want to call him, ask him what the fuck is going on and why you think you kind of like it, but you don’t.

but when you look over at your alarm clock to see that it’s 2:00 a.m. and sleep refuses to let you succumb to it and you relent to the warm emptiness between your legs, it’s yūji whom you imagine is there to fill it.

you think of the way his tongue trails down the expanse of your neck, the way he feels inside you, as you whine into your pillow and desperately try to make yourself come.

it doesn’t even occur to you until later, when you’re waking up to sunlight slicing through your half-open blinds. and then it does, and you text him: i do that too.

he doesn’t text back, but ten minutes later, your phone rings. he sounds breathless.

“be here in ten,” he says.

you pause. “okay.”

and you are. he throws open the door as he hears your car pull up and jogs out to meet you, and all he gives you is a quick, “hey,” before dragging you inside.

there’s no one else home, so he motions for you to have a seat at the kitchen table and takes the one next to you.

“do what too?”

“what?”

“what you texted me.”

you look down, studying the seams of your sleeve and feeling your breathing go shallow.

“do what too?” he repeats.

and softly, you say, “want you.”

yūji stands, pulling you to your feet with him. “want me how?”

your eyes are wide and a little bit sad as you stare up at him. “i don’t know.”

then he cracks a tiny smile. “good,” he says, “i don’t either.

except he does.

he wants you every way, your presence, your time, your body, your fucking soul, all of it. but he doesn’t say that.

when you kiss him, he implodes, melts into your arms as if he’s trying to fuse your bodies together. but he says nothing of it.

the feeling of your wrist in his hand, the sound of your giddy giggles as he leads you to his bedroom—for now, that’s enough.

he takes it slow.

when he’s shut the door and ensured it’s locked, he turns to find you’ve already tossed your top on the floor.

a smile meets yours, gentle fingertips on your cheek, a soft whisper against your hair: “put it back on; i wanna do it myself.”

and you laugh and oblige, shivering at the now-familiar sensation of the warm metal bead on his tongue against your lip as his hand finds its way to your ass and squeezes gently.

“yūji,” you whisper.

“i like it when you say my name like that,” he murmurs into your shoulder, rubbing gently up and down your back underneath your shirt.

“hmm,” comes your contented response.

and then his fingers are rubbing gently against the hem of your shirt, easing it up to reveal your body inch by inch, and you shiver a little under his feather-light touch.

lifting your arms up, you allow him to slip your shirt back over your head, and then his hands are all over you again, squeezing your breasts through your bra and tracing lines up and down the center of your back. the little metal ball on his tongue presses against your lower lip. you tug at the hem of his hoodie, and he pulls it off.

the feeling of his skin on yours is nothing new now, and yet this time, there’s a certain nuance to it that he can’t place.

he wonders how you want him again; can’t stop wondering as you lead his hand down to the button on your jeans, laughing a little as he kneels at your feet to unzip them.

as he pulls them slowly down your legs he lines your thighs with little, butterfly-soft kisses, murmuring unintelligible praises.

when you’re left in only your bra and panties, he wraps his arms around your waist and falls backward onto the mattress, taking you down with him. you sit up a little, so that you’re straddling him, and he lets out a low sigh.

“you are fucking incredible,” he breathes as you suck gently at his neck, leaving light marks that will have faded by tomorrow.

your fingers trace the dips between his abs, tantalizingly, eventually making their way all the way down his stomach to the waistband of his sweats, and then a little further, palming his dick through them and feeling how fucking hard he is.

he groans a little, says, “please don’t tease me,” as you continue to do exactly that, but he doesn’t stop you.

when you shift a little so that you’re positioned right over him, soaking panties rubbing a tiny little wet spot into the tent of his erection, he sits up and gathers your body into his arms, lips and tongue moving against yours as one hand unclips your bra while the other settles itself on your hip, grinding you down against him. you press your thighs together at this feeling of pure need you’re experiencing and he pulls his mouth away and looks you in the eye.

“may i?” he whispers, and you smile and nod, laughing as he rolls you off of him to rid himself of the rest of his clothes and dig a condom out of his bedside table, which he hands to you.

you’re impatient as you tear it open but force yourself to roll it onto him slowly, studying his face as he revels in the feeling of your fingers grazing lightly against his dick.

once it’s on, he flips you over again, laughing, and exhales slowly as he slides your panties down your legs and tosses them somewhere on the floor to be found later. his fingertips ghost gently down the sides of your thighs as he bends down to lick a long stripe between your legs and across your clit.

“fuck,” you breathe as he groans softly against your skin, the vibrations sending an electrifying buzz up your spine.

he presses his tongue flat against you, metal bar circling your clit teasingly, and then he pulls away and groans, “sit on my face,” his words hurried and slurred with lust.

so you let him move to lie on his back and straddle his face, giggling as he wraps his hands around your thighs to pull you closer.

“aw, don’t be shy, i thought that’s the whole point of this,” he says.

and then his mouth is back on you again, tongue flicking slowly and carefully, taking in your every response, and soon he’s got you shaking on top of him, grasping at the headboard and his shoulders and tangling your fingers in his hair.

he keeps going after you’ve already finished, making you writhe and whimper, only letting go of you once he’s satisfied.

he pushes you backward so that you’re still sitting with your knees on either side of him and he sits up, leaning back against the headboard. his lips are on yours, then, and he’s pulling your hips to his, the head of his cock nudging ever-so-lightly against your entrance.

“quit teasing me,” you whine when he grips your waist, refusing to let you sit yourself on his dick.

“i’m not.”

“yes you are!”

“‘m not,” he mumbles, smiling, as he draws his lips down the curve of your left shoulder and back up again. “i’m savoring the moment.”

you huff. “you can savor it with your cock in me.” and yūji does his best not to show it, but the high he gets from those words alone, from knowing how desperate you are for him, even if it’s just for his body, sends him straight to heaven. because regardless of how much of him you want, it’s still only him that you want in this moment, and right now that’s enough.

you allow him to move at his own pace, his movements slow, languid as he holds you to his chest, one hand around your waist and the other reaching up to tangle his fingers in your hair. he lets himself say the things he wants now.

“kiss me?” he whispers, and you oblige happily. you taste like him, and he’s so content he could lose his mind.

instead he loses himself to you, shaky breaths between “god, you’re so good,” and “you have no idea… how long i’ve waited… for you to want me like this.” there’s a single thing he holds back from saying, but he still plans on saying it. he’s just saving it for the right moment.

you’re drunk off of him, your body shuddering against him with every touch of his skin to yours, not knowing what to say and yet feeling as if you know everything you’ve ever needed to. and you say it for him.

“i love you.”

the words are barely there, just a breath against his lips as you kiss him, and it’s too much for him. he finishes with something akin to a sob, taking your face into his hands. “i love you,” he responds. and then, “say it again? please?”

you close your eyes and smile, leaning into him and brushing your lips against his. “i love you, yūji.”

his hand’s on the back of your head, then, pushing you back to his mouth, wanting you closer, wanting more. and you want more, too, fingers tracing lines down his back and arms and stomach, sending waves of light through his skin. this is it, he thinks as you press your body tight against his, this is all there is.

you are everything to him.

— SOMETHING ABT U I CAN’T QUIT

in each other’s arms later that evening, you feel yūji’s chest move slowly up and down with each inhale and exhale, contented in sharing this silent moment with you, and then you know. you know how you want him. you open your mouth to speak, and he does at the exact same time. the two of you share a laugh, just like you always have.

“you first,” you say, propping yourself up on your elbow so that you can look at him properly.

he reaches up and rests a hand flat against your face and runs his thumb lightly over your bottom lip. “i am…” the words are slow and quiet and purposeful. “i am so in love with you.”

your smile widens against his hand. “i want you. everything… about you, with you. i want it all.”

and he mirrors your grin, just like he always has. “i’m yours to take.” his eyes flit down to your lips, his thumb still pressed against them, afraid to look you in the eye as he speaks his next words. his face flushes pink; it’s adorable. “say you’re mine, too?” it’s a request, a plea—not a command.

you reach up to your face and place your hand over his. “all yours,” you say. “don’t even have to ask.”

it’s silent for a bit again, and then he sits up, going a little more serious.

“what?”

“what happens if this doesn’t last?”

you sit up, too, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and gently pulling his head to rest against yours. “after all these years?”

“hmm.”

you think for a moment: after all these years. your whole lives, spent together, maybe not as lovers but always as two halves of a whole. it’s him you always gossip to first, whom you always went to after heartbreaks and fights with your parents. he’s the first one you told when you lost your virginity, crashed your car, got into one of your top universities. he’s held your hand through everything.

so finally you say, “i don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

he pulls away to look you in the eye. “why not?”

his nose brushes against yours as you lean your forehead against his and laugh a little. “are you dumb, yūji?”

“i don’t think so?” when you say nothing, just continuing to look at him with that shit-eating grin on your face, he goes, “am i missing something?”

you press your lips to his for a second and pull away, still smiling at him. “it’s us, yūji. always has been.”

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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

Text

Fluff Alphabet

A/N: This is a bit of a collab with my bestest best friend @lokistan! The ever amazing Star helped me come up with a question for each letter and she wrote the entirety of “N” herself! Hope you enjoy :)

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @mlqcikemenmc

A=Adoration: What do they adore about you? • Everything. How understanding you are. Loki’s been through a lot, and you’re always patient with him. Even if he was nervous about the relationship in the beginning, you let him take his time, reassuring him you could go slow. And knowing all that, you always checked if he was alright, making sure you weren’t doing anything that made him uncomfortable or weren’t going to fast. He didn’t think anyone else would be quite as considerate as you.

B=Beauty: What do they find most beautiful about you? • Your smile. When you look at him with your face all lit up, he thinks his heart is going to burst from joy. No one else had ever looked at him quite as softly, as kindly, as genuinely as that. He likes to think about your smile as he drifts off at night. It gives him the best dreams.

C=Cuddles: Do they like cuddling? • Not at first. Loki is very guarded and letting anyone into his space is a big decision. Once he warms up to you, however, all he wants to do is snuggle. His preference between big spoon and small spoon depends on the day. When he’s feeling particularly antsy or small, all he wants is to be held in your arms as if sheltered from the world. But on his better days, when he just wants to protect his little mortal, he likes to wrap his body around yours, keeping the two of you in your own little bubble of happiness.

D=Date: What’s their favorite date you’ve had? • The first one. He was too nervous at first to go out with you in public, resulting in a dinner for two in his quarters at the Tower. It was happiness like he’d never known before, the first of many soft, quiet moments you two would share. Loki remembers being too nervous to take your hand in his and being pleasantly surprised when you were the one to hesitantly intertwine your fingers together. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget a single moment of that night.

E=Embarrassed: What about you makes them flustered? • The little things. Like when you take his hand in public. Or say you love him. Or throw a smile his way during a debriefing. Or laugh at one of his jokes. Everything you do seems so natural, so genuine, that it throws him off guard for a moment. When he realizes that’s because all the small things are reflections of how much you love him, his face goes bright red!

F=Forever: How do they plan the rest of your life together going? • Honestly, Loki doesn’t like to think about it. He just knows he needs to be with you, and that’s enough. Though, he did find a spell to expand a mortal lifespan, and plans on asking you if it’s ok to use it. If you say yes, he imagines whisking you away to a cabin in the woods for a while, spending some of your many years just basking in each other’s presence. If you say no, that’s fine too; he’ll still treasure every moment you have together and knows he’ll see you again some day.

G=Gifts: Do they like giving gifts? Receiving them? • Loves giving them; mixed feelings on receiving. Loki adores you so wholly and completely, he thinks it only natural he gives you a gift here and there. Ok, at least twice a month. If he sees something that reminds him of you—and most things do in some way—why not gift it to you? You always love them and want to give back to him. It always makes Loki confused because he had never seen himself worthy of such tokens of love. With every one you give him, you change his mind a little more.

H=Hello: What’s their favorite way to greet you? • With a kiss. Nothing long or extremely passionate, usually just a peck on the cheek or back of the hand. Sometimes, he’s too nervous to say he loves you out loud, but the little kiss says it all. Besides, the god considers it an honor to be allowed to be the one to give you such affections, and he plans on making the most of the privilege.

I=Impression: What was their first impression of you? • He’s intrigued. Loki never liked to have particularly strong feelings either way toward someone. But, despite being the God of Lies, he doesn’t like to deceive himself. There was some unplaceable thing about you that drew him in. Eventually, he realized it was because you never scorned him or cowered for him. No, you were always attentive and interested in listening to him. For someone like Loki, that was rare, so of course he wanted to stick around you.

J=Journal: Do they keep a journal? • Yes. Not religiously or anything. If he misses a few nights, it’s no big deal. He does like to quickly jot down a few thoughts when he can, though, usually about time he spent with you. Then when he can’t be with you at the moment for whatever reason, he can pull it out and flip through, reliving the memories with a smile on his face.

K=Kisses: What’s their favorite part of you to kiss? • The back of your hand. Asgard was a fairly formal place, and having been raised a prince, it was common for him to bow and place a kiss there. But with you, it was different. More meaningful. It was almost a way of bringing his old culture with him, yet making it his own. He wouldn’t always bow when he did it. In fact, more often than not, it was sans bow. Instead, if you were walking down the street hand in hand, he’d lift yours to his lips and plant a quick, gentle kiss there. Or if you were sitting together on the couch, he would do the same. Really, they were a good, fast little reminder of his affection for you at any time of the day. How adorably flustered it made you was just a bonus.

L=Love: How do they tell you they love you? • Through the things he does. Sometimes it’s hard for Loki to actually say the words because of his fears, so he opts to show you. He’ll ask if it’s ok to take care of you if it’s something bigger, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. So if you have a tough day, he’ll ask if it’d be alright if he draws you a bath or gives you a massage. If it’s a smaller thing, he doesn’t mention it. He’s not looking for praise, he just wants to show he loves you. So, sometimes he’ll make your favorites for dinner or dessert, or suggest watching your favorite movie or comfort TV show. Of course, you always notice and respond with “I love you, too.”

M=Mischief: Do they prank you? Prank with you? • Absolutely. Loki is the God of Mischief, a title he prides himself on much more than God of Lies. He never does anything too serious to you, just small things. Like convincing you of something absurd or making an illusion of a rather large bug, just enough to make you jump. Even better is pulling pranks with you. Like convincing Thor everyone but him can lift Mjolnir now. Or making Tony believe he’s going crazy and that beeping he keeps hearing is in his mind. And the best part of it all is when Loki gets to hear your beautiful laugh.

N=Never: What's something they would never do to you? • Push you. Loki understands that some things take time and patience. He would never pressure you to do something that you're not ready to do or say. Loki knows what the weight of the world feels like and would never put you through that.

O=Original: How original are they when it comes to wooing you? • It can go either way. After all, not too many people have magic at their disposal, and Loki loves using it to impress you. Then again, he loves to throw in cheesy pickup lines that make you grin like an idiot because he just looks so adorable saying them.

P=Protective: How protective are they of you? • Very, but he tries not to let it show. Loki doesn’t want to stifle you or make you think he believes you’re weak. You’re actually one of the strongest people he knows. Still, he always watches over you and checks in on you, making sure you’re alright and no one is upsetting you. And if someone has, oh boy, they better watch out because he certainly will have some choice words for them. Of course, that would come with a threat to the person not to let you know he’d spoken to them. Unless he’d gotten your permission to intervene.

Q=Quiet: What quiet, peaceful moments do they appreciate the most? • The ones where you don’t need to be doing anything else. So many people always need to be talking, but with the storm of thoughts always swirling in his mind, Loki appreciates the quiet. The fact that you two can just lay together saying nothing means so much to Loki. He likes just enjoying your calming presence, looking into each other’s eyes, almost as if communicating through the silence, the special kind that only those as close as you two could truly understand and appreciate.

R=Romance: How romantic are they? • Extremely. Loki loves to sweep you off your feet. He’s a little shy about it at first, but once he’s comfortable, he’s constantly writing/reading you love poems and songs. Candlelit dinners become commonplace and you find rose petals lining your way the table more often than not. And if you ever watch a rom-com, you can bet Loki will be taking notes.

S=Sharing: Are they good at sharing their emotions with you? • Sometimes. If his fears of you leaving get the better of him or cause the problem, he doesn’t really want to talk about it and risk making you upset. Instead, he just lets you hold him when you can tell something’s wrong. But for most other cases he slowly learns how to trust and open up to you, telling you what’s going on inside his mind.

T=Trust: How much do they trust you? • A lot. There's not a single other person in the universe Loki would ever let hold him the way you do. He doesn’t tell anyone else his feelings, either. He loves you and knows you’re there for him, though, so he trusts you won’t tell anyone else. It helps that you trust him so much too.

U=Upset: How do they comfort you when your upset? • By holding you. Even if you’re not at the point where you need to cry, Loki will encompass your body with his, tucking your head under his chin. He’ll whisper sweet nothings in your ear until you feel better, rubbing his hands up and down your back. When you finally look up at him, he’ll shower your face with kisses and ask if you need to talk. If you say no, he just keeps holding you for as long as you’ll let him. If you say yes, he listens intently, offering words of encouragement or advice when you finish. He always makes sure to tell you how proud of you he is for doing your best.

V=Vulnerable: When was the first time they were vulnerable with you? • The first time his nightmares woke you up. You’d both fallen asleep on the sofa watching a movie. Unfortunately, he was startled from his slumber by the dreams that so often plagued him. You rubbed his back while he caught his breath and calmed down. Once he was doing better, you offered to listen to what was wrong. Unable to keep it in any longer, he broke down in your arms. After sharing with you, he felt better than he had in a long time. He didn’t have another nightmare for two months.

W=When: When did they realize they were in love with you? • The first time he said the words. He hadn’t thought about it, so it wasn’t premeditated. You two were just swaying to some music, and you’d looked up to place a quick kiss to his lips. He just looked at you and said the three-word phrase. You replied immediately, seemingly not thinking about it either. Loki realized his heart had known it before his brain, but it was in that moment he realized how true the words were. He loved you.

X=Xaphoon: What kind of music reminds them of you? • Classical music with big, sweeping movements. So often they start off soft, feather-light. Then they crescendo into something bigger, something brighter, something dramatic. It reminds him of the way he feels for you, how it swelled into that big moment of pure and complete love and adoration. If the piece calmed back down again, that was the best, since he’s feelings had settled into his bones, becoming part of him.

Y=Yearning: Do they yearn for you when you’re apart? • Very much so. If he has to go on a mission for a while or accompany Thor to Asgard, he misses you terribly. He’ll look at photos or make an illusion of you, but it’s not the same as actually having you there. When he gets back home, the first thing he does is run into your arms, telling you how much he missed you. The sudden confession he never exactly plans always made him blush.

Z=Zoo: Would they want any pets? • Only if you did. Loki was kind of neutral toward the whole pet thing. Sure, if someone else had one he’d always go and pet it, but having one of his own wasn’t that big of a deal to him. If you did want one, though, Loki would immediately take you to find just the right companion. And once you brought it back home, he’d love to play with it or look at it or tell it how cute it is. Practically becoming its best friend, he can be easily persuaded to adopt one or two or a dozen more. And, of course, he’s so absolutely adorable with it, you’d risk your heart exploding from a cuteness overload and let him pick the one to adopt that time.

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shyficwriter · 3 years

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Temporary Home: Chapter 17

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Peter, grasping for straws to remain 'The Prank Master,' thinks he's found a way to annoy you into conceding. Unfortunately, and unbeknownst to him, what he's found is something much worse.

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: Content Warning for descriptions/mentions of PTSD and flashbacks. Also, for my records this chapter ends on day 34 of the Guardians living with reader. Enjoy!

Word Count: 6,761

Red covered your mouth and nose, all over your hand, and a bit on your sheets. You blearily tried to gather your senses, tried to open your eyes against the unforgiving light that blinded you.

Peter stood over you, laughing. Telling you that you got what was coming to you as you groaned.

That fecker had put ketchup in your hand while you slept and then tickled your nose with one of the fuzzy-tipped novelty pens on your desk. The dickhead.

"Ugh! Gross! Dude!?" you complain, sitting up and reaching over to grab the tissues off your desk so you could clean yourself up.

"Serves you right for what you did to me!" Peter countered, gesturing to the blue staining his body. He began to walk out of your room, making sure to let you know that you shouldn't expect the two of you were even.

You roll your eyes and continue wiping the ketchup-y mess off of you. You glance down at your sheets and realized you'd need to wash them today too. Great. Guess this is what you got for sleeping-in.

Once you had finally cleaned yourself up you gathered your sheets to take them downstairs to wash them, but not before making a pit-stop to Peter's room. Wanting to make the trip quick you grabbed the first thing you could find- his comb- and pocketed it. It was about to have a date with some jelly.

As you turned to leave his room you saw Rocket standing in the hall just outside the door.

With a knowing grin he asked, "Whatcha doin' there?"

"Nothing," you answer flatly, gathering your sheets back up.

He let you pass but said, "So I guess I didn't just see you steal Quill's comb, then?" There was amusement in his voice.

"He'll get it back," you answer, not pausing in your walk towards the stairs.

"What do you plan on doing to it?" he asked, intrigued. He had no intents to squeal on you. This prank-y-ness was a side of you he had been pleasantly surprised to see. Much better the the stiff agent-type you usually liked to display. Had he maybe misjudged you?

"The less you know the better," you answered, continuing down the stairs.

No witnesses. Rocket liked your style. Maybe you didn't have such a stick up your butt after all.

***

You threw your sheets in the washer and put the kettle on. It was time to make some jelly.

While waiting for the kettle you grabbed the packet of jelly from the pantry and something quick for breakfast. Deciding on a granola bar, you go to pull one from the box when you also notice that all your spices had been flipped upside down. Obviously Peter's doing. That's also when you remember that you had hidden the rest of the food dye behind the spices, prompting you to give a quick peek to see that the box was still there.

It wasn't.

Peter must have found it while setting up his prank and took them, intent on making the two of you "even."

Crap.

The kettle began to whistle and you pulled yourself out of your thoughts of doom to start fixing the jelly. You could think about the dye later. Right now you had mischief to make.

You mix up the jelly in a glass bowl, adding in an extra packet of gelatin to make sure the shape would hold later. Then, looking around to make sure no one was around, you take Peter's comb out of your pocket and drop it in. The bowl was just big enough for the comb to catch on the sides roughly about halfway deep in the jelly water, so that when you turned it out it would be nicely suspended in the green jelly. You then quickly take the bowl to the fridge to set, burying it in the back on the bottom shelf so it hopefully wouldn't be seen.

Then you simply went about your day as normal.

***

Other than several bad puns, Peter surprisingly didn't attempt much to annoy you that day, and you had no doubts that it was because he was confident that he'd be able to return the favor in dyeing you an odd color when you showered tonight.

Not if you had anything to say about it.

Too bad for him he had no way to know that you knew, and you were confident that you could deal with it when that time came if you paid enough attention. For now you were just going to act none-the-wiser, and accept his invitation to watch a show with the others.

You settled in on the couch and the episode starts. It's a title you haven't heard of before.

Watching it you gathered it was a type of mystery/detective/thriller type that was somehow also a comedy. A detective was accused of killing this old lady, and he was on the run to try and prove his innocence. Lots of action, a bunch of red-herrings, overall not a bad show so far if you had to judge by this episode.

Then there was the end-scene.

The detective finally found the actual murderer, the mayor, and after tricking him into broadcasting his confession over the radio in this abandoned radio station- where he somehow had managed to make a broadcast work- the two fight. Only the mayor has a gun, and the detective's fell into a storm drain two scenes ago.

Through his cunning the detective manages to escape alive, but not unharmed. He's got a compound fracture to his leg. Cops are on the scene and arresting the mayor after surrounding him at gunpoint, and ambulances can be heard in the background.

You feel the hair on your arms stand up.

The sound of the sirens just keeps getting louder.

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry.

They get louder. You look away from the screen into your lap.

All you can hear now is sirens. You don't realize they've already stopped on the screen. There's now instead dialogue, a conversation between characters, but you are unaware of it.

Your hands clench into fists, nails digging into your palms. You fight the images in your head. You don't want to see them. You hear sounds of tearing metal. Sirens. Screaming. Beeping. Your breathing gets shallow and you work to keep it quiet. You had to fight it back. Sirens. Bright lights. Glass shattering. Screaming. Sirens. You keep saying to yourself inside your mind that it's ok. You're ok. But what about-

Kraglin makes a comment to Yondu about something said on screen. You don't hear him. You only hear the sirens. God, why won't they stop? Screeching. Sirens. Blinding lights. Sirens.

Yondu turns to reply to Kraglin, but sees you looking strange. He raises an eyebrow, which Kraglin notices. He follows Yondu's gaze and sees you staring into your lap, body rigid, hands balled tightly into fists. Your eyes are wide, but unseeing. Your jaw is set.

Before either of them can say a word the buzzer on the washer goes off and you seem to jolt out of it, quickly hopping up and making your way out of the room.

Yondu and Kraglin share a look. What was that about?

***

You didn't return for another episode. Instead, you decided it was a nice enough day to hang your washing on the line. It hardly took you any time at all to finish, but you decide to stay outside for a bit anyways. Fresh air and all that.

Everything was fine. You were ok.

When you finally come back in it's well after a suitable lunchtime, and realizing that the only thing you had today was a granola bar, you decide to cut up an apple and sit at the table, scrolling on your phone as you eat.

Yondu comes into the kitchen for a drink and joins you at the table. "Where'd you go runnin' off to?" he asks, "Decide you didn't like the show?" What he really wanted to ask was what had prompted that look in your eyes earlier, but he knew better than to just come out an ask. You'd just deny anything had happened.

"Had laundry to dry," you answer, not looking up from your phone.

"Ya were gone an awful long time for laundry." Yondu said, not missing that you completely ignored his question about the show. But the question still bugged him. He recognized the look in your eyes back then. He remembered sometimes catching it in the eyes of some of the older battle slaves in the barracks when he was younger. It was the look one had when they were flashing back to something horrific they had been through. He and the other younger battle slaves were always told by other elders to leave those be when they were "stuck in it", as they would say. Don't disturb them. They'll come out of it. Nothing for it but to let it pass.

That never did sit right with him.

"It's a nice day. Thought I'd enjoy it," you answered.

Yondu hummed shortly. You weren't giving him anything, and he knew you wouldn't.

He decided not to press it for now, but he could tell something had triggered that response from you, he just didn't know what. He suspected it had something to do with whatever it was that you kept locked away inside. He had clues and suspicions as to what, but of course he couldn't be sure, though he was more determined now than he had previously been to figure you out. Only one thing was certain. You had pain inside you. A lot of it. No one should have to go through that alone.

***

Kraglin, unlike Yondu, wasn't nearly as subtle when he saw you next. However, he wouldn't get any further.

"Mind if I help?" he asked, joining you in the garden where you were pulling a few weeds.

"Go for it," you reply, barely looking up. There weren't many to pull, as it was starting to get cooler lately. You mostly just came out for something to do. Soon it'd be time to harvest the whole garden.

The two of you work in silence for a bit. Then, Kraglin asks, "So, um, was you alright earlier? I mean, saw that ya looked mighty shaken when we was watching that show."

"Don't know what you're talking about," you answer, standing up and tossing the weeds you picked over to the compost bucket.

Kraglin looked up to meet your gaze, frowning. He was about to say something along the lines that you were full of shit, but he stopped himself when he saw your stern expression. You weren't just denying it. With just those few words, combined with the subtly hard look on your face, you were outright telling him that he didn't see whatever it was that he thought he saw.

He exhaled out his nose and just gave you a look that said that he didn't believe you, but he wouldn't push it. He could see that you would just shut him out, and he felt like it wasn't his place to press it.

Suddenly a gunshot rang out, breaking the awkward silence and causing you both to jump.

You sigh, not appreciating the jolt, and said, "Damn hunters."

Kraglin nodded and tried to take this distraction as an opportunity to change the subject. If you wouldn't open up, maybe he could try and make you smile instead. "So... nice job on dyeing Pete blue last night. Real funny."

"I certainly thought so," you said.

He almost thought he saw you crack a smile. Wanting to bring about a full grin he decided to tell a story. "Yeah, it was just like this time Pete rigged a dye pack up in one of Yondu's drawers, I think he mentioned it last night. Anyway, so somehow Pete rigs it up, I think he got mad at Cap'n for making him scrub the grease traps or somethin', but anyway then Yondu goes to open his drawer one mornin,' yeah? And he's blasted in the face with this red dye. Ohhh boy! He was madder than a muzzled Flerken!!"

The mental image was enough to make your lips curl up involuntarily.

Kraglin noted this and continued, "What's worse is he had to meet with some lady client the next day about a job, and he couldn't get it off. He was this funny shade of purple for over a week!"

A short laugh suddenly breaks through your throat and you look at him. "Really?" you ask, mirth in your eyes. The mental image of the blue man looking quite cross and splattered purple while trying to commit space pirate business dealings was a humorous one.

"Yeah. He grounded Pete for so long after that." Kraglin replied, chuckling.

"I'll bet," you say as you stand up and brush yourself off, now finished with weeding and prepared to go inside. "Thanks. For helping in the garden, I mean." you say.

Kraglin also stands. "Not a problem, ma'am."

You wince and shake you head as you turn back to the house. You thought of telling him to knock it off with the 'ma'am' stuff, but you were concerned with what might replace it. So you left it alone for now.

***

You were on alert when you got ready for your shower that evening. You knew Peter had plenty of opportunity to have tampered with your bath products, but you played it cool. Acted unaware.

The plan? Beat him at his own game.

First you turned on the shower and let it run. You cupped your hands beneath the stream to make sure the water wasn't an odd color.

All clear.

You get into the shower, deciding to inspect your shampoo and conditioner bottles first. You felt it was unlikely he'd put it in those, as it would be unlikely to have a decent enough payoff for him, but you still checked just in case. Your shampoo bottle was see-through and the liquid inside clear, so it was obvious it had gone untampered. You went ahead and used it.

Time for conditioner. Unscrewing the top you look inside the conditioner. Completely white. Untampered. Good.

Finally you checked your body wash. It was a rose scented type and was already colored pink. If he was was going to strike anywhere, it would likely be there with the red dye. You squirted a little into a rag to test it on your hip, an inconspicuous area. You didn't even need to use it before you realized you were right. The body wash came out much darker than usual. It was like he hadn't even mixed it. Actually, that's likely exactly what he did. He probably wanted to make sure as much dye got on you as possible and so just squirted it right on top. Just out of curiosity, however, you still tested it.

Yep. It left a red steak right on your hip. You catch a glance at Peter's bottle on the shower shelf, and grin.

Silly Peter. He shouldn't have forgotten his bottle in the shower. Again.

You reach out of the shower for a new washcloth, and use some of his body wash instead. Of course, not before testing it on the first rag to make sure it wasn't left behind on purpose as a trap. It wasn't. The test proved it free of dye and safe to use.

For now.

Once you finished washing you then unscrewed the top off of Peter's bottle and carefully poured in as much of the dye from the top of your tampered bottle as you could without getting it on your hands. You had to sacrifice a little of the soap down the drain just to make sure it would come out clean the next time you used it.

Was he sure to notice? Probably, but you didn't care. You'd be just as happy with the message it would deliver if nothing else.

He was going to see that you were the Prank Master here.

***

Once finished with your shower you retreated to your bedroom. On the way you could hear Peter in his room asking Gamora if she had seen his comb, and you grinned. You sure knew where his comb was.

Mantis is gathering her own stuff together to take a shower when you enter the room. You glance at what she's carrying to make sure she has enough soap. God forbid she might run out and then use Peter's instead of yours. You actually would feel bad if the prank accidentally hit her instead of Peter. Satisfied that she does you shut your door behind her and wait, unable to keep a grin from splitting your face.

Perhaps half an hour later, a good bit after Mantis had returned from her shower, you can hear Peter shouting.

"Are you KIDDING me!?"

Mantis looks towards the sound in shock before turning to see you covering your giggles with your hand.

Now you can hear Peter cursing your name.

"What did you do?" Mantis asks, both intrigued and alarmed.

"He tried to get me back for turning him blue by putting red dye in my soap. I found out and turned it back on him," you answered, nearly stuttering over your giggles.

"How?"

"I just poured the tainted soap into his bottle. Now he'll have been dyed twice." You grinned, but it fell shortly when you heard the bathroom door slam open and heard his footsteps coming in the direction of your room. You jumped up and quickly flicked the lock just before he reached the door.

The knob jiggled and then he started to pound on the door, cursing your name and demanding you come out.

Feeling cheeky, you answered, "Nobody's home!"

From the other side Peter said loudly, "Come out here, you coward!"

"Do you need something?" you ask, your grin wide.

"You. Out here. Now."

"Whatever for?" You're have a real hard time biting back your laughter. Mantis is sitting on her bed, hugging her bear and openly giggling.

"You know exactly what for!"

You look to Mantis. "Should I?" you chuckle.

"YES! You should!" answered Peter from the other side of the door.

"Didn't ask you!" you retort. You look back to Mantis and she nods excitedly. She wanted to see what had happened to Peter.

"Alright," you answer, loud enough for Peter to hear as well. You unlock the door and slowly open it.

You tried to hold it in. Honestly, you did. But the sight of Peter standing there in his pajama bottoms, and now purple where he had previously been blue, and a pinkish-red just about everywhere else you could see, you lost it.

Your laughter, combined with seeing that you didn't have a spec of dye on you, made Peter cry out in frustration. "HOW?!"

"It-It's your fault," you laughed. "You left a trail!"

Peter narrowed his eyes. "I did not leave a trail!"

"You did! I-I saw you had taken the rest of the dye and I knew what you'd do with it. Dude, you- you really should have left the box behind. I might not have noticed then." It was all you could do to say the sentence coherently as you tried to hold back your giggles. "How did you not notice I turned it around and poured it back in your bottle? Don't you look??"

As Peter sputtered indignantly for a reply you noticed that you again had an audience. Yondu and Kraglin stood at the bottom of the stairs, grinning up at the scene and shaking their heads. Rocket and Drax were standing by their room, Drax chuckling with a giggling Groot on his shoulder and Rocket almost looking impressed. Almost. Gamora was standing across the landing, shaking her head, though it appeared more out of second-hand embarrassment for Peter rather than disdain for you.

"Don't I- You- I'm- UGH!" Peter sputtered in frustration. He had half a mind to tickle you until you peed your pants for this- Well, not literally, though he wouldn't be above threatening it. He may be an asshole, but he wasn't 100% a dick. Regardless, the other half of his brain was too busy trying to think of any suitable comeback... and failing. He was The Prank Master! How were you beating him at his game? He glared at you. He wanted to wipe that smirk off your face. "You think you're so funny, don't you?! Just wait. You better watch your back. I'm gonna... I'm gonna..."

"You're not going to do anything, Peter." It was Gamora who spoke now, her tone teetering somewhere between warning and exhaustion, with a hint of amusement buried somewhere in there. "She beat you at your own game. Go to bed."

You couldn't stop the grin that split your face if your life depended on it. You took a calculated step back, hand resting on your door. You put on your most innocent voice. "So..." you started. "Does this mean I'm The Prank Master, now?"

The look in Peter's eyes could have vaporized you. "That's it!" he cried, stepping towards you. He wasn't sure what he'd do when he got hold of you. Hold you in a headlock until you apologized? Wet Willie? Both? Neither? Didn't matter. All he knew was you were going to pay for this.

However, he'd never get the chance. You were too fast, slamming the door in his face and flicking the lock just before he could get near.

You and Mantis doubled over laughing and Peter sputtered some more empty threats before Gamora could be heard scolding him and telling him to go to bed.

It was even better the second time.

***

The next morning you were, dare you say, cheerful.

Peter, less so. He was still a bit cranky that not only had he been the victim of the dye prank twice, just one night after the first, but that it had happened because he tried to get you back and you turned the tables on him. Sure, he had cooled down a bit from last night, but he was still an uneven purple/pinkish-red mess and the others kept snickering at him. Even Gamora had been caught hiding a grin behind her hand a couple of times.

It wasn't fair. He was determined to get you back, but how would-

He spotted something on the kitchen table, interrupting his thoughts. Something shiny, and green, and was that...?

Oh you were going to get it.

***

You were minding your own business, walking over to one of the bookcases in the sitting room, when suddenly you were accosted.

Peter had pulled you into a headlock from behind.

"Hey! What the hell! Let me go!" you demanded.

"Tell me you're sorry and I'll think about it!"

You had a feeling what this was about, but you played dumb. "I'm not going to apologize for turning the tables back around on you! It was your own fault for trying."

"That's not what I mean and you know it!"

You started softly laughing despite the moderate chokehold. You couldn't help it. "Did you- Did you ever find your comb?"

Suddenly you feel something wet in your ear. You knew there was only one thing it could be. "Ew! No! Peter!" you squeal, trying to squirm away. "That's disgusting! Stop it!"

Peter was chuckling now, still giving you a wet willie. "Say you're sorry!"

You jerk against him. "Never!" You were laughing despite really only having one hand to fight him with. The limited range on your brace made it so you couldn't bend your elbow enough to grab his arm with that hand, and you were standing too close to the bookcase to throw him over you and get out of the headlock. Well, too close to do it without hurting him, or your books, that is. You were stuck, but you still weren't going to give in.

Turns out you wouldn't need to.

"Alright. Break it up," came Yondu's voice from somewhere off to the side. "What's going on here?"

Peter released you and you rubbed your ear against your shoulder to get the wet feeling out of it. "She put my stuff in Jello!" he complained.

Yondu gave you a weird, albeit amused look. "Don't ya think ya did enough to him already, missy?" He wasn't scolding you, but he actually was surprised you were still on the attack after having seemingly won the war last night.

Fighting a grin you reply, "In my defense, I'd already done that before the dye thing. I only found out he was planning that afterwards," Technically not the full truth- you actually found out during the setup of the jelly prank, not after, but it was close enough, "and what was I supposed to do, not turn the tables back on him when I found out?"

Peter punches you in the shoulder, but there was no anger behind it, just cheekiness. You stick your tongue out at like a child in retaliation.

Yondu grinned and shook his head. It'd been awhile since he'd seen his boy carefree and goofing off like this, even if he was bickering with you like the two of you were kids. Still, he should maybe try to persuade a stop to the prank war again before things escalated any more and you two killed each other. It'd be a shame to save him from Ego just to let him die in a prank war of all things, and bad form to let him kill their host. "Boy, I think ya might need to accept that she won this round." he said, a hint of teasing in his voice.

"I will do no such thing! She just got lucky." Peter replied.

You smirked. "Yeah. Sure. 'Lucky'," you taunt. "Just say it and I'll call us even."

"EVEN?!" Peter exclaimed. He gestured to the stained purple and pinkish red of the areas of skin you could see. "Look at me!"

Trying not to smile you slowly look down to the brace on your arm. Head cocked to the side your eyes look back to Peter. "You were saying?"

Peter bit his lip and narrowed his eyes. You could tell he wanted to retort with something, but he knew he had no leg to stand on. Eventually he settled for, "I'm still not saying it."

Yondu snorted a laugh. "Whatever it is, just be a man and say it, boy. Quit while yer ahead."

Peter looked at him indignantly. "I am not going to declare her The Prank Master."

Unable to suppress your grin any longer you nudge him in the shoulder and say in your sweetest voice, "It's ok, you don't have to say it," taking a few steps away you add, "We already know." You then jogged out of the way when he made a grab for you.

You made your way out the front door, but he didn't follow, instead just stood there pouting.

"Ya finally gonna give it up, boy? Take yer loss like a man?" Yondu chuckled, teasingly.

"Never." Peter responded, too busy plotting revenge to fully catch the "take it like a man" part as he walked out of the room.

Yondu chuckled and rolled his eyes as he went to take a seat on the sofa. It was nice to see that you had a goofy side, though he wondered if it was Peter rubbing off on you, or if you had just had it buried under layers of stubbornness and sass.

Either way, it seemed certain that the boy was gonna have to relinquish his self-proclaimed title of "The Prank Master."

***

Over the next couple days the pranks between you and Peter had slowed down. This was likely in part because of how you made Peter realize that he couldn't complain too much about getting even for the dye prank if he considered that you were still in a brace as a result from one of his previous pranks gone wrong, but also in part because the two of you had pulled so many pranks so far you were seemingly running out of ideas.

Peter moved the furniture in your sitting room 3 inches to the left, likely to get your back for putting his comb in jelly.

You retaliated by setting up some cling film up at head height in the kitchen doorway for him to walk into and then calling him into the kitchen.

He got back at you by swapping your salt and sugar out, thereby ruining what would have been a perfectly good cup of tea.

For this high crime, you decided to get him back by scrapping out a couple Oreos and filling them with toothpaste. He was most definitely not fond of that one. Called it a crime against nature, and he may have been right, but so was what he had done to your tea.

Other than that, nothing really escalated, well apart from the oreos and tea, that is. The two of you kept making little jabs at each other and annoying one another. Really bad puns, petty insults, that sort of thing.

You did assume, however, that Peter was just biding his time, trying to think of something big that he could spring on you that might make you give up the game and declare him The Prank Master, because gods knew he wasn't going to concede.

And you'd be right.

Peter spent a decent amount of time brainstorming ideas for a really good prank, or even just a decent way to annoy you, in between all the smaller ones, but he was coming up with nothing he deemed quite good enough.

He was about to consider throwing in the towel when you inadvertently provided him with the fodder he needed.

***

It was the fourth day since the first dye prank and most of the dye on Peter had worn off by now.

You were reading on the couch, little Groot was playing with the TV and flipping through random videos on the YouTube app with Drax, and Peter and Kraglin were in the middle of a card game at the table on the other side of the room.

In what you would chalk up to a cruel twist of fate, Groot managed to find his way into a video of ambulance calls.

Rudely and immediately torn from your book by the sound, your hand shoots out for the TV remote and you mute the TV, much to the dismay of little Groot, who had found the noise fun and had been cheering the siren on. As calmly as you can despite your rapid heartbeat, you ask Drax, who was confused by your behavior, to please tell Groot to find something else to watch.

Drax looks at you strangely, but translates for Groot anyway, which again, only sounded to you like he was repeating your words verbatim due to his translator. You still didn't know that the translators didn't actually translate into Groot, but rather Groot had just picked up and could understand a bit of Galactic Standard, even if he couldn't speak it.

Groots looks slightly disappointed for a second but agrees and switches videos and you unmute the TV.

You didn't bother checking what new video he had chosen. That had been a mistake.

After the ad finished playing you were jerked back into reality from your book by the sounds of now multiple ambulance calls going at once. You mute the TV once again and say, "I'm sorry. I should have been more clear. Anything else. Anything else except for videos of that sound."

Drax, rightfully confused, asks, "Why?"

"I do not like it." is all you offer, and you don't elaborate when asked.

Peter, of course, overhears all this, and thinks he's found his new way to annoy you. He of course had no way of knowing the reason you couldn't bare the sound wasn't due to annoyance. He had no way of knowing its effect on you.

***

He tested the waters the next day after lunch.

You were washing up the dishes with Gamora when the sound of an ambulance siren makes you freeze in the middle of drying a bowl.

Gamora turns her head towards the noise and wonders aloud what it was.

Without answering you take towards the direction of the sitting room to, gently, scold Groot for playing those videos again.

Of course, when you get there, you only see Peter, who pretended to be surprised to see you.

"Turn that off," you say sharply.

"What?" Peter asked innocently.

You didn't ask him again. You just grabbed the control and exited the video before throwing the control back down into his lap. "Don't play that again," you warn.

"Why? Does it annoy you?" Peter asked with a smirk. He didn't notice your hands shaking.

Your eyes hardened. "Just don't," you say, returning to the kitchen.

Peter grinned. He was going to have fun with this.

***

Peter would play that sound three more times that afternoon, each time eliciting a more irritated response from you until you finally ripped the plug to the TV out of the wall and turn to him to angrily yell, "Stop it!"

"What?" Peter asked, chuckling in surprise at your latest response. You must really hate that noise.

"You know exactly what. I'm seriously, genuinely asking you to knock it off," you reply.

Gamora, who could tell Peter was working your last nerve and who was also becoming irritated by the repeated playing of the sirens, nudged Peter and told him he had his fun.

Peter half smirked and seemed to relent, saying simply, "Okay."

You sigh. "Thank yo-"

"After you declare me The Prank Master."

Gamora rolled her eyes and propped her head up on the hand resting on the arm of the couch, not wanting to get involved, but inches from yelling at her boyfriend that she was ending the prank war herself.

You were seething. "You're a goddamn child!" you scold, leaving the sitting room and considering getting out some of the vodka you had in the freezer just to calm your nerves.

You had only just made it into the kitchen when the sound started up again.

You back against the wall and cover your face, inches from tears. Your breaths came in shallow gasps as flashes of bright lights and the sounds of tearing metal and screaming fill your senses. You tangle your hands in your hair.

"FUCKING STOP IT!" you scream.

Peter and the others in the sitting room, as well as those upstairs, all paused in shock at the sheer volume behind your scream.

They then heard the sound of the back door slamming forcefully.

Yondu, who had been at the table playing cards with Kraglin, had only been present for the second and last incidence of Peter annoying you with the sound, and it wasn't until now that he put the pieces together. That day when you acted strange and walked out on the show- this siren sound had been playing then too.

Shit.

He got up and scolded Peter, who in his shock still hadn't turned the video back off. "Turn that shit off now, boy! If I hear it again I'm gonna shove my arrow up your ass! You hear me?"

Peter, recognizing the tone in Yondu's voice as one that he had encountered many times as a child when he was in trouble, immediately switched the video off. He had to concede that perhaps he went a little too far this time, but of course he didn't actually understand just how true that sentiment was.

Yondu went to go see where you went, and he didn't need to look very far, which surprised him. He was for sure you would have taken off for the forest again, since it was kinda your thing.

Instead, you were sat with your back pressed against the stone of the house about a couple meters from the door, hand clamped over your mouth and eyes in that terrible 'wide yet unseeing' way. In the dim light provided by what shone out the kitchen windows from inside he thought he could almost see the remnants of fallen tears.

He tried to approach you slowly, but you caught him out the corner of your eye and jerked to a standing position.

"Hey, hey-" Yondu said, holding his hands up. "It's alright-" he started, but then found he didn't know what else to say. After a moment he settled on, "Ya wanna talk about what that was about?"

You don't meet his gaze. "Nothing. He just pisses me off. He's a damn child."

"While that may be true, yer still full of shit."

You glare at him.

He continues. "If this was just about Quill gettin' under yer skin ya wouldn't be shakin' like that, and I doubt you'd be crying neither."

"Am not," you mutter. You turn away, wipe your eyes, cross your arms self-consciously, and start walking away. "It's cold."

Yondu rolled his eyes. It was cool out, yes, but it wasn't that cold. "Ya wanna talk about why ya dislike the particular noise so much?" Yondu called after you. "Ya ain't got to, but I can tell somethin's eating ya. I might help to get it off your chest."

"It's nothing." you reply. "Just an annoying sound."

Yondu frowned. "Now listen here. I ain't gonna force ya to tell me, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna let anyone just flat out lie to my face, missy."

You turn to him, indignant. "I'm not-"

"Hell if ya ain't. I've seen that look before, I know what it is. Ya can lie to yerself, but ya can't lie to me!"

You glare at him. "Who the hell do you think you are? Coming in here acting like you know anything about me!"

"I'm the person telling ya that it ain't healthy to keep that shit bottled up inside ya. It'll eat ya alive."

You don't respond. Just roll your eyes and start walking away again.

Yondu threw up his hands. "To hell with you then!" He starts to walk back inside but stops at the door to speak again, this time his tone a little softer, "I have a feelin' no one's ever told ya, girl, but ya don't have to 'be strong' all the time. Sometimes it's ok to let people in. It don't make ya weak." With that he headed back in the house.

You lean your back against the cool stone and sigh in frustration. What did he know.

***

You head back inside a bit later, not feeling much better.

Peter catches you as you're about to head up the stairs. "Hey, I just wanted to say sorry for-"

"Don't." You cut him off, not stoping in your path. "I don't care. I'm going to bed."

Peter frowns, but lets you go. Maybe he could try again in the morning. He truly was sorry. It was just supposed to be a bit of fun.

***

You stared up at the ceiling from your bed for what felt like hours. You couldn't sleep, couldn't stop thinking about it. You knew Peter had no way of knowing why you couldn't stand that sound, but you still couldn't help but be unhappy with him. He just wouldn't stop.

You can feel your jaw clenching with each flash of horrific memory.

You were annoyed at Yondu too. Acting like he knew anything about you or some shit. What did he know? Not you, that's what. You didn't need someone acting like they cared. You didn't need anyone, really. People come, people go. No one stays forever.

You feel your chest clench. Your throat tightens and you sit up. You didn't want to cry.

A walk. That's what you needed. A walk in the forest would surely help wash the memories away. You could walk until you were too tired to think about it, then sleep it off. It would be better in the morning. You'd be ok.

You quietly slip on some jeans and make your way downstairs to put on your boots and grab a jacket. Choosing your thin leather one because it had been chilly when you were out earlier, you open the back door and head out into the cool night air.

You'd find out soon enough that you should have stayed in bed.

#gotg #guardians of the galaxy #gotg fanfic #gotg fanfiction #marvel fanfic #x reader #yondu udonta #peter quill #starlord #kraglin obfonteri

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