#today was stressful so here's some mindless fun | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shanair · 2 years

Text

Rick and Morty X F!Reader | Custom S1E8.5

A/N: Here is my final pre-written which is a custom episode! The reason I made this was because I wanted (Y/N) to be more self-aware and exposed than Morty. Despite being twins she usually takes the responsibility of trying to carry both of their burdens. She now knows about her role in the universe and Rick seems to know that she knows, which adds more stress on to her. Rick is naturally suspicious of her for this but he still relates and connects to her easier than Morty.

Episode Name- (Y/N) and Morty Adventure

Word Count- 4,376

"Morty!" I swing open our bedroom door. Morty jumps, falling onto the ground.

"W-what the hell is-is your problem?!" He cries out. I aggressively pull him to his feet. I step back, hands on my hips.

"We're going on a (Y/N) and Morty adventure!" I announce. He stares back at me.

"H-huh? Do you mean j-just us? What about Rick? How do you expect us to go anywhere if he has the car?"

"What if we don't need the car?" I smile smugly. Morty continues to stare, his eyes widening in realization.

"You got the gun?!" He exclaims. I shush him.

"I got the gun." I pull out the portal gun, it glows its usual ominous green. He watches in awe.

"But how did you-?"

"Remember our last adventure? He left the gun in the car, and the next thing you know he is drunk. You may think, ‘(Y/N), but he is almost always drunk, and even when he is drunk he isn’t dumb enough to forget about it!’ and I would say that you were right. But , he simply left it inside the ship when we got out into the endless pile of trash. To help he was completely blacked out. I believe it made him think that he left it on the ship when he was sober. The only thing I had to do was grab it when he blacked out.”

“Wouldn’t he know that you took it?” Morty asks, he seems open to the plan but hesitant.

“I’ve had it since then, so I think we’re in the clear for now. To make it even better, he is having a personal day today. I suspect we have until dinner to go wherever we want and do whatever we want." I finished explaining my plan. Smart, I know. Personally, I think my little heist was impressive.

"W-wow, (Y/N). You must have been planning t-this for a while." Morty exhales.

"Exactly, and I know the exact place we're going to go." I set the knob to an alternate dimension. I walk over to my bed, leaning down as I pull out two weapons. I toss Morty a blaster I grabbed from the garage, taking out my own. I fire the portal gun. It makes a wooshing sound as the green wiggly portal appears at our feet. We step into the green portal.

My eyes adjust as I look around the barren replica of our own dimension. It was around midday, perfect for a little adventure. And this time it’s going to go well. No traumatizing events for either of us, just some mindless fun. Literally.

"So, where are we?" Morty questions, looking around. We teleported on top of our school roof. The dystopian-type atmosphere was quiet.

"Well, I've seen you taking an interest in The Walking Dead. I talked to Rick, annnd apparently, there is a universe where another Rick started a viral strain similar to it. Making zombies and whatnot."

"I-I thought you didn't like the show? You said it was pointless and t-too repetitive. Did you really spend this opportunity to make me happy or something?" Morty gives me a goofy grin. I roll my eyes.

"Nope, I just like watching the action from the show. Killing zombies is badass so I wanna do that too." Morty disregards my comment, still grinning. "Come on, let's kill some zombies!" I shout. I rush to the rooftop door, pulling it open.

"Wait," Morty pauses, "what if we get bit?"

"Uh, don't? And if so, we can just cut it off or something and regenerate the limb."

"O-oh jeez." Morty comments nervously. We open the door. We make our way down the stairs as we go into the main school area. We go to clear each classroom of zombies. Convenient how each room had something to kill. We swiftly finish each one of them off. Ever since we started going on adventures with Rick, the both of us had been getting pretty strong. The results are obviously paying off now. We made our way to the school entrance, I stopped Morty. A series of groans and snarls are heard on the other side of the large school doors.

"I think there's a herd outside." Morty decides to open the door anyway. We are greeted with a swarm of zombies.

"What the fuck Morty?!" I slam it shut. More grunts and moans come from the door as I hold it still. How can he be all 'Oh no what if it goes wrong' to blindly and knowingly jumping into dangerous situations?

"Now, this is more like it!" He yells. I look at him for an explanation. "You're going to open that door, and we're going to fend them off!"

"You're fucking crazy man." I hesitate, looking at his face. He had a sudden rush of bloodlust, too sudden. I jump from the door to him. They pile in quickly. We take out a couple before being overrun. My gun jams as I unholster it. I cuss under my breath, taking a moldy piece of wood to bash their heads in. Morty seems to get tired, reacting to the neverending herd slower. Gunfire ripples at a distance, we share a glance. Backing up, using nearby objects to slow down the approaching zombies. Soon the zombies slow, the ones in the back being shot and killed by unidentified bullets. Who else would be alive here? And my questions are answered when I see my mom and sister walk through the door.

"(Y/N), Morty?" 'Mom' asks, lowering her gun. She stands next to Summer. I look for Dad. He's either dead or hiding, probably dead.

"Stay cool." I whisper to Morty. Stepping in front of him.

"Hey, Mom, Summer." I greet them.

"What happened to you two? We thought you died. Where's Rick?" She hugs us. I push her off.

"Uh, around." I share a knowing glance at Morty. We're twins, so he had to get my message. She seems bothered, soon giving a sign to 'Summer' who lifts her gun. I fire another portal and Morty jumps through. Summer shoots my shoulder.

"I was going to say sorry because of Dad but fuck you then!" I yell, dodging another shot and jumping through myself as it closes behind us. Morty stands with his back to me. I touch my bleeding shoulder, wincing as I do. I rise to a full stand.

"What's wrong?" I look up at him, then past him. Rick, and no, not just one Rick, multiple Ricks. We're on the citadel I’m pretty sure. Neither of us had been but Rick had definitely bitched about the other versions of him multiple times for me to deduce why there were so many Ricks in one place. How did the portal lead us here? I would have thought Rick made it unhackable or traceable. But these are the people sharing the same minds. The sound of cuffs being put on pulled me out of my thoughts.

"(Y/N) and Morty of Rick C-137. You're under temporary arrest for tampering recklessly in another dimension and illegal interdimensional travel." The Ricks sat up high in their podiums. Well, shit.

"You're going to be in separate holding." One of the Rick's commanded. Wait, no separate? "At least until your designated Rick comes to pick you up. If your Rick-"

"Hold up, hold up," I start, "separate? What if you mix us up with the wrong person? Why can't we be together?" The main Rick frowns in displeasure before answering my question.

"We have a high-tech identification system that has never failed, and if it does, we don't care, probably y-your fault anyway. A (Y/N) and Morty are not permitted to stay together not accompanied by a Rick when off-world."

"So you're saying the only reason we're here is that we did something without a Rick?" I talk back.

"(Y/N)!" Morty whispers.

"No, it's not fair that we're looked down on just because we are not fossils with blue hair." I retort.

"Argh, just get them out of my sight." One of the Rick waves, and Morty and I get dragged out of the room. The Rick guard led us to a holding facility, one down to criminals and the other misplaced. We go down the misplaced one. Soon a checking-in system comes in, sitting us in front of machines. We take our mugshots before being separated, the plaques containing our dimension number. I curiously try to read my dimension name but fail to do so. I was brought to a door with an icon looking like my face on it. The door opens, revealing hundreds of other (Y/N)s from different dimensions. The guard Rick stabs my shoulder with a syringe. Relief spreads my muscles as the gunshot wound heals immediately. My cuffs are unlocked as I'm pushed inside. A nerdy-looking (Y/N) runs up to me. She has those big-rimmed glasses and I’m kind of getting that nerd vibe.

"You're new here. Dimension number?" She asks, pushing up her cliche glasses.

"Uhh, I don’t know. C-137?" I deadpan, looking around the room. I wasn’t completely sure about my number but I think Rick mentioned his being that. I spot a guard spot not too far from the entrance. I guess the Morty zone is the same. Nerd (Y/N)-- nicknaming her Nerdy, leads me away from the door. "So uh, how long is the wait usually?" I ask.

"What do you mean?" she tilts her head at the question, "Some of us here never leave. Of course, Mortys are usually renamed and shipped out to be replacement Mortys after a month. Sometimes a Rick comes in and requests for one of us if we're lucky." Oh boy, but those are probably people with neglectful Ricks. We should be fine. Rick will get us, eventually. Probably. Definitely. But how many of these (Y/N)s said the same thing to themselves? Nope. Not going down that spiral right now.

"Well, why are we even separated from our Morty's? Seems stupid." I stretch my healed shoulder, I look back at her.

"Are you not aware of the havoc a (Y/N) and Morty together can cause?"

"Other than being a pain in Rick's ass, no. That's the reason why I am here in the first place."

"Even though Mortys are with a Rick due to his inferior brainwaves, our brainwaves collide with a Rick's, which creates a sort of interference. But if we were alone, our individual brainwaves stand out. A Morty helps but doesn't mask it as much as it does to a Rick. The reason why we are separate is due to a (Y/N)'s influence on a Morty." I urge her to continue. I never knew we had technical significance. I just thought Rick was lonely doing stuff by himself and just happened to have two grandchildren that were impressionable."Morty's are usually obedient and sensitive. They bend to a Rick's will. Ricks make them overly insecure, ruining the chance of disloyalty. It takes a smart, and cocky Morty to overpower a Rick. The thing is, in most cases a Morty going rogue is because of a (Y/N) pushing Morty to his final straw. Separating us lowers the chances of fighting back. This room is also more secure than theirs."

"We're only pawns to Rick? He doesn't really care about us. That's why there are so many of us here." I think out loud.

"Unfortunately, yeah. I'm sorry you had to come here." Nerdy shrugs empathetically.

“So, how did you end up here?” I gesture to the crowded room. Nerdy looks away sadly, she hesitates before speaking.

“Well, another Rick and Morty attacked my own. I think they killed my Rick, my Morty and I tried to fight them off but we were separated. He might be in the Morty hold, but I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him. I miss them.” Her story does sound sad but one thing interests me the most.

"W-wait, you said you and your Morty fought another. Can a (Y/N) overpower a Rick?"

"No. A (Y/N) may be smarter and more capable but predictable. A Rick would always win. Many of us already tried to escape. Only one (Y/N) was able to achieve it, legend A-17. Got left here just like the rest of us, fought her way out, and escaped to an unknown place in the universe. No one has ever seen her again."

"Wow, I didn't know there was a full history of us. Why don't we break out too?"

"D-did you not hear a word I said? (Y/N) can't beat a Rick."

"Only a special one right? I'm a special (Y/N)."

"Yeah, okay. How would you know that?"

"Because I have a special Rick. Thank you for the information, but I have to find a way to get the fuck out of this dump of weird versions of myself. No offense." I push past the nerd me, shoving more versions of myself. There were a lot of cliche versions of me, goth, punk, with nerd back there. Oh, wait, no, there is me as a hammer. I wonder what led to that. I find the back wall, I trace it around the whole room. There is nothing attached to this room other than the entrance. It's a prison with no ounce of human rights. This isn't Earth but still. I circle through more (Y/N)'s to reach the front again. I knock on the guard's window. A tiny speaker peeps through.

"What do you," Rick belches, "want."

"I have to piss."

"Uhh yeah, so?"

"Take me to a bathroom."

"Not going to happen, sweetcheeks, get moving."

"So you're just going to let me piss myself?"

"Yeeap." I open my mouth to respond, the guard shuts the speaker. Asshole. We have to be transported to do something at some point. Like, eat or something. I look for an entrance to the Rick room from in here. Nope, maybe Nerdy will know something. I take a box, stand on top of it, and look around. I see the familiar-rimmed glasses and rush over.

"(Y/N)." I call, and eighteen nearby people turn to me. I point at Nerdy. "Her I mean, sorry."

"What's up?" She pushes her black glasses up.

"Do we ever leave? Like to pee or eat?"

"There's an enclosed bathroom connected to here near the exit, but they only open it a couple of times a day. Food and stuff get dropped from a large tube." She points to the ceiling, there is a closed chute at the top.

"And how do we throw all of the trash away?"

"A trash compactor, which is also opened after mealtimes." She then points to a closed-off section in the corner of the mega room, near the entrance.

"Mm okay, so how long is that from now?"

"It's hard to tell without having natural lighting, or a clock... But maybe an hour or two?" She explains.

"Do you know what's in the trash compactor? Like where does all of the trash go?"

"Well, looking at how Rick's might not care about pollution and how it's a constant movement of trash- I'd say it gets sent through an air-powered tube, either connecting to a trash plant or straight into space. Well, maybe even a laser contraption to zap the trash into bits and dust."

"Okay, thanks." I disappear back into the sea of (Y/N)s. Yeah, I feel bad for just using her for information and not even attempting to make conversation. But at the same time... Whatever, I just need to get out of here. Maybe I can get through that feeding tube or the trash if I'm desperate. I wonder how Morty is handling things.

Hours pass by. The feeding tube comes and goes. I discovered that the tube was embedded into the wall, not reachable. Soon the trash compactor opens up in the wall, and we all rush in to throw our stuff away. I linger near the compactor, each (Y/N) throwing stuff away before heading to the bathroom. Nerdy is one of the final people. She notices me standing near the compactor and walks over.

"Nononono, you're not going to do what I think you are?" She questions, mentioning the compactor door.

"I'm going to do it. You can come if you want. It's only freedom."

"You don't even know what's down there? Or if you can get out."

"You already gave your theory and I believe in it." Nerdy groans, before urging me to continue. Once the coast was clear, I get ready to jump into the hatch. I hear a shout behind me.

“Hey! Get away from there!” I whip my head around, a Rick is approaching me with a gun.

“Why?!” I shout back, slowly inching my way closer to it. The Rick seems to get angry fast, he sighs audibly and lowers his gun, and motions to it.

“Y’know what? Fine! Jump into it. Do it.” I stare at him, confused. “What’re you waiting for?” I glance at Nerdy and she is on alert as well. She shrugs. I look back at Rick before jumping in.

I fall into a large section of shit and trash. Ew. I look around for an exit in the piles of trash. A red glow grabs my attention, Nerdy falls a couple of feet from me. I crawl my way to the service exit. The room rumbles, and the entire room starts to glow. I look around, noticing a row of holes on the wall across the entire room. They’re lasers. A giant conveyor belt activates. The ground shifts as Nerdy jumps off of the pile to stand next to me. She seems to make the same deduction. We start to sprint, dodging the large pieces of debris. I glance at where the belt ends, the lasers are now activated—yeah, not going there. I struggle at the top, grabbing pieces of trash and creating a makeshift grappling device. My legs burn as I jump on a pile of trash, using the hook to hoist myself above the moving items. I climb up and I lay against the wall, remembering Nerdy, I look around for her in the dim room. She is across the conveyor belt, looking for her own way. I unhook the device and aim it towards her.

“(Y/N)! Here!” I yell. I fire it at her and she grabs it. I hold on tightly as she tries to climb up, the conveyor belt is strong under her feet. A piece of debris side sweeps her feet and she is hit, she cries out as her hand detaches. I feel the weight lift from my arm. Nerdy struggles to stand after falling, her body still being carried by the belt. I watch in horror as she reaches the end, disintegrating into the laser. More trash is pushed into the laser right after. I look back at the wall that I was holding onto. I regulate my breathing, noticing how much I’ve been holding my breath.

"Come on!" I whisper to myself. Motivation isn’t a thing I have a lot of right now. I smell like shit and I look like shit. I try not to think of the look of Nerdy when she was reduced to nothing. There’s something uncanny about watching yourself die.

I retract the grapple back to me and tuck it under my arm as I hold onto the wall for longer. Soon the conveyor belt stops. I drop down onto the now-still floor. I glance at where I last saw Nerdy for a moment before looking around more. I look past the laser area. A red light at the end of the long room illuminates a door under it. I pry open a rusty door, making more noise than needed. I carefully stalk along with the dim parts of the service tunnel. A portal sounds startle me. I raise my tool and turn around. A Rick enters through, no wait, my Rick. I can just tell by his expression.

"Whaaat the f-fuck are you doing here?!" He snaps.

"Heyyy Rick," I start, lowering my tool, "I should be asking the same to you, more of, how did you get here?"

"Did you forget who made the portal gun, dipshit? First, you steal my portal gun, not even bothering to make a cover for it. S-second, you then get arrested and lose that portal gun. And third, well, you're just a major dumbass." I sulk away, feeling more embarrassed than upset that he caught me. It's like I failed at rebelling, and he's bashing me for it. "Where's your brother?"

"A holding area above here.” I point above.

"Alright, let's go get him." Rick walks past me.

"Wait, you aren't portaling?" I question.

"What is up with your brain recently? Do you think I can just portal around willy-nilly in here without being traced?" I respond in silence.

"Yeah, that's what I fucking thought, you're really growing up fast. To be a pain in my ass. You smell like shit too."

"Well, I'm sorry that your tech wasn't good enough not to be remotely detected. I mean, since everyone here is you. I feel like you'd have the ability to stop your gadgets from being detected." I remark, "Being the rickest Rick and all."

"You're going to shut up and si-lently follow me to rescue your brother. Which I assume you got into this mess." Rick's voice was laced with irritation. Morty was right. I am kind of like Rick. Of course, I don't believe I'm as big of an asshole as him, nor as smart. I'm the only one that challenges him. I guess my point in the rickuniverse is to just be the rebel child. Rick stops me as we arrive back at the cell area. He seems to hesitate before tossing a blaster at me.

"Are we going to save the other Morty's?" I ask, readying the blaster.

"And-and what? Foster all of them? Release them at the Rick's for them to be recaptured?"

"Okay, okay, I get it, geez. How about we release them, and leave the chaos? Or you can just go inside and sign Morty out, and we leave peacefully."

"Fuck you. I'll take any chances to kill myself. Now let's go." Rick rushes ahead. I mouth 'o-kay', following him into the room. He blasts open the door, quickly shooting the Rick stationed there. He grabs a crate to step up on, gaining the attention of the Morty's. "Listen up shitstains!" I recognize our Morty slowly pushing through the crowd. "Morty is coming with me!” A lot of the Mortys looked confused before our pushed through. Rick looks down at him. “And the rest of you can uh, run around I guess." Morty comes up and embraces me before immediately pushing me off and grimacing at the smell. "Yeah okay, stop the r-reunion, and let's go." Rick destroys the database with our universe numbers on it and opens another portal. Mortys rush by us, maybe to reunite with their own (Y/N)s.

"How has it been hanging out with yourself?" I ask Morty.

"It was okay, I guess, really boring. What happened wi-with you? You smell like shit."

"Yeah, I'm aware. I escaped my holding area through the trash compactor with an alternate version of me before watching her get zapped out of existence. Then I entered the service area connected to it. Rick just had to appear the second I already escaped."

"Oh." Morty exhales.

"Hurry up, we don't have all day for this." Rick groans.

Morty and I walk through, entering the comfort of our home. I smile at Morty, then remember our roles in the universe. It's one of those things that bother you the more you think about it but you prefer to live in pure ignorance. I could talk to Morty about it, and how some pairs of us are expected to rebel or ignore it until I'm forced to acknowledge it. But I’d rather not. Rick groans loudly, taking his flask out and returning to the garage. Morty and I head to our room, passing Summer.

"Eugh, where the hell have you been? You smell terrible."

"Gee, thanks, I didn't know." I walk past her.

"S-she had a rough day." I hear Morty's excuse behind us. I get my stuff together and walk past him again to take a shower. I later return to the room to see Morty holding Uno cards.

"W-wanna play?" He asks, already placing my hand down.

"Yeah." I sit down across from him.

"H-hey um, are you, good?" He starts dealing his cards. I pick up my deck.

"Mm, fine. At least they were nice enough to heal my shoulder." I fixate on my cards, looking over the colors.

"Tha-that's bullshit. You're lying!" Morty points.

"What? I'm not lying.” I place my card down, "Go, play."

“Something is bothering you."

“Well a carbon copy of me died in front of my eyes.”

“It’s not that. There’s something else a-and you’re not looking at me. Why aren't y-you looking at me?"

"Morty, we're playing a game," I look up at him. "See? Eye contact."

"Y-you're still lying, a-about something! I can just tell." I shrug him off, someone has been working on his twin instinct.

“It’s really nothing Morty. Just drop it. Come on, are we playing or what?” I ask, he seems conflicted before sighing.

“Alright, okay. Fine, I’ll drop it.” He concedes. We then started playing Uno together, but I wasn’t that focused on the game. The fact that we have our own roles according to Rick is, unsettling. I knew that we had other dimensions with ourselves and that the Ricks made a community around themselves, but the fact that the universe has rules instilled specifically for Morty and me just irks me. I did escape a holding facility full of them. Maybe if it comes to it Morty and I would be able to overpower Rick. Hopefully, it’ll never come to that…-

The reason why I replaced the ending was because I wanted to keep Morty finding about the whole role thing in the universe for the actually part when it happens in the show. And keeping Morty out of it allows more conflict to happen when he does find out.

#rickandmorty #rick sanchez #rick #rick and morty #rick and morty x reader #x reader #reader insert #female reader #rick c137 #morty #morty smith #morty c137 #c137 #platonic #fanfic #fanfiction

105 notes · View notes

hawnks · 3 years

Text

Party Attire

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

r18 (mdni)

wordcount: 1,600

my drabble for the valentines day exchange uwu. for @some-kindofgnome hope i did your wants justice. smooch.

warnings: dom/sub undertones, oral s** (giving & receiving), edging, spit, size kink

.....................................................................

He’d warned you about that skirt.

In the hall outside the bathroom of the four star restaurant his parents invited you to. Crowding you against the posh wallpaper. Fingers digging into the skin just below your hemline. Admittedly, it was pushing the boundary between business chic and let me get railed on my five break and then meet you back here to talk about the budget requests. A cute, pink pleated number you’d thrifted a few months back. The weather had just turned right to wear it with some knee socks. It was fun and flirty, you thought. A little daring, sure, but not enough to draw any attention that was too salacious.

Katsuki had other opinions.

“We get home, I’m fucking you so hard you won’t be able to form a coherent thought for days.”

He made good on his word. And after pampering you a little bit (no thinking required with your boyfriend literally carrying you wherever you needed to go), Katsuki passed his final judgement on your dinner attire.

“No.”

You put on your best pout, waggling the (now very stained) skirt at him. He slapped your hands out of his face, but you didn’t miss the way his eyes followed the swish of the fabric, or how they fell to the marks he left on your thighs.

“Throw that shit out,” he groused.

You know he would never actually dare to tell you what you can and can’t wear. You also know he had a soft (and inexplicable) spot for that particular outfit. So you don’t feel bad about tucking it away for a rainy day -- after a very thorough washing, at least.

Now seems like the perfect occasion to break it out again.

Your boyfriend hasn’t been home in three days. The two of you keep up a constant back and forth over text, but you could tell the stress is beginning to wear on him, his responses getting pricklier and shorter the longer he’s away.

Finally, you get the message you’ve been waiting for. Home in ten.

Just enough time to get ready.

You hear Katsuki pull into the garage. He likes his cars fast and loud, which has never bothered you -- but the sound of the motor cutting out has your heart thundering in your chest. You’re seated on the plush couch in the den. You’re not sure if you should arrange yourself pleasingly or just plant yourself. You try several poses before you hear the front door open and shut, and Katsuki appears in the doorway, peering at you through the dimmed lighting as you struggle with one leg on the floor and one off.

It’s an uncomfortable position, and you can’t extract yourself without doing a bit of an awkward shimmy, which you suspect is endearing but not exactly seductive. Finally you end up with your legs hugged against your chest, your eyes trailing over to your boyfriend as he watches you, not moved from his spot by the entrance.

He’s in civilian clothing, sweats and a dark t-shirt, both perfectly fitted. It’s the first time he’d changed from his hero uniform in days, and the loungewear feels strange on his skin. Unnatural.

He leaves his coat on the floor in a heap, forgotten as he finally starts stalking toward you. His expression is bland, impassive -- but you catch a glimpse of interest in his eyes before your gaze darts, landing on his thighs. They’re massive, just like the rest of him. Sometimes you catch yourself watching him on slow days, as he leans over the stove, or grabs something from the top shelf from you, just marveling at the sheer size, the strength of him. It’s like he was designed with you in mind. Like he was made to make you feel small.

You can feel the divine heat of him as he stops before you, knuckles brushing your chin up until you meet his gaze. “Cute.”

You lean into his touch, and he cups your cheek, thumb petting the soft skin. “Missed you,” you say.

“Oh, yeah?” He stares at you for a second, the arches and slopes of your face. His thumb continues stoking, moving ever so slightly until he’s rubbing your bottom lip, dragging it down until he can see the dark color of the delicate inner skin. His forefinger creeps in, prodding against the soft point of your canine before finding your tongue. He presses down, a gentle pressure, but one that won’t let you ignore it. “Prove it.”

Your tongue presses back against his finger, licking around it, sucking. You do all of this without modesty, groaning when he presses back, gagging when his finger sinks deeper, edging toward your throat.

Katuski has big hands. You know that -- how could you ever forget that every part of him is a mountain -- but it’s moments like these that remind you just how big. How much bigger than you. How well he can fill you, in any way he chooses.

Your teeth are held open against his knuckle, and strings of drool begin to trail down your cheeks, land on your chest. Katsuki takes all of this, you, in with red eyes hooded, his other hand clenched at his side until he can’t hold himself back any longer.

With one arm he picks you up by the waist and repositions you, laying on your back beneath him as he straddles your midriff. He wipes the spit from his index finger off on your cheek, peering down at you as you let out another low whine.

“Impatient, huh?” he murmurs. At your eager nod, he grins, all teeth. “Guess I gotta show you who’s in charge here.”

One hand on the arm of the couch, the other cradling your chin, he crawls up your body until his hips are hovering over your face.

He lets go of you for just long enough to rip down his sweats, cock hard enough to tap his stomach, just from playing with your tongue, then his fingers are back on you, teasing open your mouth. He grits his teeth as you so willingly let him tap himself against your tongue, a dab of precum already budding at the tip.

You’re caged in by him from all directions, his thick thighs framing your temples, his hand stroking his cock in slow jerks just above your face. You should feel smothered—instead you feel intoxicated, drowned in his and his domination, and your lips continue to part further and further as he teases you, until you’re gaping and he’s grinning down at you.

“That’s it baby,” he hisses, nudging his cock in (finally in) to the warm cavern of your mouth.

He’s too big for you to take all of him like this, laying down, his legs splayed over you, but he continues to prod at the back of your tongue, his hips rolling in a firm, shallow rhythm. He edges himself in your mouth, pulling out and letting his cock smack gently against your cheek, smearing precum and your own spit across your skin.

“Yeah,” he says, voice worn thin, self control fraying. “So goddamn cute.”

Twice more pulls out just before cumming, smearing your face with your combined slick, groaning as his hips jerk against your jaw.

With a hiss he crawls off you, goes to his knees on the floor. In less than a second he’s manhandled you into the position he wants, hips hung off the couch, your whole body supported by his strong arms. With a wicked growl he flicks your skirt up, then he lowers his face.

Nothing Katsuki does could ever be considered sloppy. He’s perfect, sometimes maddeningly so. When he’s between your thighs he does things with a brutal finesse, one that you appreciate to the fullest extent. But what’s happening right now can only be described as messy.

He still knows how to treat you right, the exact pressure to make you buck, the spot inside to stroke with his index and middle finger while his other hand squeezes the meat of your thigh just this side of painful. But all of that is interspersed with split seconds of ravenous mindlessness. There are moments you don’t know what’s happening because it’s all so much, before he pulls you back in with a perfectly timed tweak of your clit, a particularly firm thrust.

And when he pulls back, just before you reach your peak, once, twice, three times, his praise is gravely and soft, his eyes have that mean glint that you hate love.

“Too soon, princess?” he says.

Or, “I told you to be fucking patient.”

Or, “Look at you, so fucking fucked. Just let me take care of things baby, I got you. Fuck that look on your face. So good for me—“

And when he finally (finally) let’s you cum on his tongue, he’s quick to follow after. You didn’t even know he’d been jerking off while he was eating you out, but you watch him rise up onto his feet, keeled over as he spends right on your pretty pink skirt.

He takes a moment to just look at it, you, all fucked out, a loopy smile on your face. He doesn’t think about what does it for him, how he likes how delicate you are compared to him, or how sometimes he just wants to fuck you up a little, how the urge lives closer to the surface when he’s stressed. Like today.

He runs an index finger through the cooling puddle caught in a pleat of your skirt, brings his wet finger up to paint your swollen bottom lip.

He says, “Was thinking about Italian for dinner tonight.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou katuski x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou x y/n #im sorry i know we said like 500-800 words but i like talking abt messy stuff aklalkgjaerlkgj;aefgkllaadfg

387 notes · View notes

meow-sic · 3 years

Text

they call you annoying

𓆝 includes : joe , langa , reki x !gn reader !

𓆟 genre : angst to fluff !

𓆞 authors note : back to writing! :)

joe / kojiro

you followed behind kojiro with cherry. today was supposed to be a nice day, if joe didn’t have to flirt with every girl he saw.

you and cherry talked about mindless things until you and kojiro got to the car. you hugged cherry goodbye and he told you to text him later.

you got in the car, kojiro didn’t even notice your off behavior. he put a hand on your thigh in the car and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“today was fun, yeah?” he turned on the car and began to back out of cherry’s driveway to go home.

“mhm,” you mumbled back, looking out the window. he was confused, but he brushed it off maybe thinking you were tired from the day.

“so…when do you think we should do that again? maybe we can invite langa and reki next time?” he tried to lighten the air.

but you kept shutting it down, only replying with a: “yeah” or “mhm” or sometimes, just a nod of your head.

once you got home you instantly went to your shared bedroom with a slam of the door. he huffed and threw his arms up in the air in confusion.

he mumbled a few curses under his breath in frustration, but he walked up to your room and knocked.

“hey, you okay?” he asked as he opened the door and walked in. you were sitting on the bed.

you knew you couldn’t stay mad at him forever, not when he’s wrapping his arm around your shoulder sympathetically.

you wiped the few tears that threatened to fall. “i just- i don’t like it when girls are constantly around you,” you expected endless apologies and affirmations.

but instead, he unwrapped his arm from your shoulder and scoffed. “what? i cant help that girls are around me all the time.”

your mouth dropped agape and your eyebrows furrowed. “e-excuse me? i’m trying to tell you how i feel and you’re literally dismissing it! what, because you want-what? female attention!”

“just because you’re insecure that doesn’t mean i can’t hangout with other people,” he scoffed. “you’re being so annoying right now.”

he didn’t look back at you until he heard sniffles. “wait i’m- i-“

“i’m going to go since, you know, i’m annoying,” you got up and walked out the room. joe sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

after a while, once he talked to cherry about it, he goes to talk to you to apologize for the way he was acting.

you sat on the couch, arms crossed with your cheeks puffed as you watch tv. he smiles, he thinks you look adorable.

he comes up behind you and hugs you. “m sorry. you’re not annoying, and you weren’t being insecure. i’d be the same way seeing guys drool over ya.”

you simply sighed, not quite ready to forgive him yet. “you’re forgetting something.”

he made his way around the couch and layed his head on your chest. “and i love you.”

you ran your fingers through his hair, “mhm. i love you too.”

langa hasegawa

he’s usually so calm with you, patient, always waiting and willing to listen to your view of the story to make sure you’re most comfortable with him at all times.

but when he started to practice more, then he started to invite reki everywhere.

you adored reki, but you wanted some time with you and your boyfriend to yourself. you barely have any time anymore to yourselves.

you met him at his apartment, his mom was gone at work and you studied while you waited.

when he came back, it was pretty late. you turned towards him and gave a soft smile. “hey hon.”

“hey, you’re here late,” he hung up his work shirt on a hanger and changed into what he usually would wear to S.

“wa-wait are you leaving?” you asked, standing up. he furrowed his eyebrows. he usually leaves once work is done.

“yeah?”

“i just thought we could spend some time together,” you said quietly. he paused, “but we spend time together already.”

your heart paused for a moment. it was clear already he wasn’t going to see your point. you hesitated to reply, “yes.. but when we do, reki is always along. i thought we could have time to ourselves, maybe to watch a movie and something?”

“i fail to see your point.” he shot your statement down right away. “we hang out everyday, with reki or not we’re still together.”

you swallowed the thick lump in your throat. “langa, you don’t understand-“

“look, i really don’t have time right now and you’re being quite annoying about this topic. i promised i would meet reki and miya five minutes ago. you’re being quite a handful right now.”

and with that, he left. you rubbed your face in frustration and decided to leave. you didn’t even bother to leave a note or shoot him a text.

you were really upset that he excused his feelings. but, to avoid further argument of you being a ‘handful’ you decided to give him some space.

langa wasn’t that affectionate in public to begin with. a small hand hold, or head kiss was fine enough. but now, it seemed like you would want someone in between you two when walking.

one day, he asks you to come over. you were scared, you didn’t want to break up, and you figured that’s what he wanted to talk about. you just wanted to give him space.

so when you made your way into his room and sat next to him, you just broke down. the whole week of avoiding him was hell enough, but too add to it your mom was mad at you, you had too much homework, and you were overwhelmed with work.

he wrapped his arm around you and comforted you. “hey, hey what’s wrong? why have you been avoiding me all week?”

“because—“ when you went to explain yourself you realized how stupid you felt. you put your face in your hands. “i feel dumb saying why.”

he shushed you and rubbed the side of your arm. “it’s not dumb if it made you avoid me for a week. you can tell me, promise.”

“last week you called me annoying and a handful. i just didn’t want to be annoying to you so i thought giving you space would help. i was scared to tell you how i felt since when i did you just went off to skate with reki after i told you i was upset about that.”

he pause for a second to take your words in, then he sighed. “i was being a jerk, and i didn’t mean any of it. i’m sorry for dismissing your feelings, how you feel is totally valid and i’ll try working on it. you aren’t annoying, okay?” he pushed your hair away from your face to cup it so he could kiss your nose.

“how about we watch the movie you wanted to last week, yeah?”

reki kyan

reki was back into his seasonal depression episode. it usually happens towards the winter, where school gets stressful, skating also gets stressful where he wants to do nothing but lay around.

langa and miya have told you about his seasonal depression, but you didn’t think it would be as bad as it is.

his mother stood in the doorway, “oh, good, you’re here! reki is in his room, he’s going through a tough time right now.”

you nodded and walked past her. you creeped open the door and knocked on it with your knuckle.

he didn’t look good. his hair was a mess, his clothes were dirty, and it looks like he had just woke up.

at 12:10pm.

“reki..” you sighed and walked over to him. you sat by his legs and brushed his hair with your fingers. “honey i know it’s tough, but why don’t you take a shower?”

he groaned. “no. cant.”

you weren’t sure how to comfort him. you wanted to give him what he wanted, and leave him be, but you knew he would never get better then.

before you could even say anything he spoke up. “why are you guy even here?”

“langa told me that you were having a tough time..” you trailed, still playing with his hair.

something in him must have snapped, because he wacked your hand away and sat up abruptly. “i am, so i think you should leave.”

you scoffed slightly. “reki, i know you’re going through a tough time but you can’t speak to me like that, i just want to help.”

“we’ll clearly you’re not helping so leave,” his eyes stared you down. your entire happy mood of trying to help him and being excited to be with your boyfriend was ruined.

“bottling up how you feel won’t help reki!”

he groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. “fine! you want me to tell you how i feel?” he yelled.

you flinched slightly at him yelled and swallowed the lump in your throat. you just looked down at your lap while he stood up in front of you.

“how i feel is that you’re annoying and clingy! i cant ever have a moment to myself, you always try to act like you need me! you don’t need me and i don’t need you!” his breath was heavy and his voice cracked as he yelled at you.

you sobbed. you didn’t-couldn’t say anything. you just got up and left. he sighed, irritated and ran his fingers through his hair again. he felt the warm spot in the back of his head, the spot where you were petting, trying to comfort him.

he knew he screwed up. so the week after that, he gave you flowers, apologies, kisses, and affirmations to make you feel how you did before.

but it could never heal what he did say to you, those words stuck with you. so now you always try to give him space. you try not to be annoying, and clingy like he said. the week of sweet things he did for you wasn’t enough to fix the wounds he’s caused.

“you’ve been really spacious recently. is everything alright?” he asked one night while you two were cuddling in his room. you were actually quite far away from him.

he was feeling pretty touch starved, and craved your touch. but all you replied with was a “mhm, i’m fine.”

“are you sure? you can always talk to me.”

all the emotions you tried to keep from him finally let out. you covered your face, embarrassed, as you cried.

he quickly hugged you, “hey you can tell me what’s wrong.”

“do you really think i’m annoying and clingy?” you asked.

he remembered that night, making him upset you believed his words that he didn’t even mean. “no! oh, God, of course no! honey, you’re not annoying or clingy.”

“you sure..?”

“yes! i’d never mean it, ever in a million years,” he kissed your head. he continued to hold you until you relaxed into his arms, and eventually fell asleep.

119 notes · View notes

arwenkenobi48 · 3 years

Text

The PDF That Saved My Life - Why I Love “All Tomorrows” With All My Heart

(Content Warning: Discussions of trauma, suicidal ideation and sexual abuse)

*clears throat* So, as some of you may be aware, the past few weeks haven’t been easy, not in the least. I was struggling with serious suicidal urges and feeling extreme anguish towards my own body and soul. I believed myself to be tainted, filthy and all manner of destructive and negative things.

The reason behind this breakdown was due to the realisation that I had experienced sexual harassment and assault multiple times throughout my life, including an occasion last year in which I was groped by an immediate relative. I had been aware of the incident since it happened, but was in denial. I was thinking “It couldn’t have been that bad, right?” But after trying unsuccessfully to repress it, I had to face the facts that she did what she did. I was heartbroken and I’m still deeply saddened by the realisation. Everything just seemed to fall apart and I psychologically imploded, plummeting into a dark pit of worthlessness and childlike sorrow. I felt as if I had been thrown into a mental oubliette; just tossed away and forgotten about on every level. Whenever I wasn’t bawling my eyes out and grieving my lost innocence, I was stress-eating and lying in bed, feeling nothing. Every now and then, I’d receive a short burst of energy, but nothing substantial, and the feelings remained.

Despite all of that, though, I didn’t want to die. A small part of my mind wanted to hold on and ride out these waves of suicidal thoughts. But I also knew I shouldn’t have to be going through this cycle of building up and breaking down, so I finally managed to seek professional help. There’s another thing that also pushed me towards seeking help and eventually guided me out of this dark place, and that’s the work of science fiction I mentioned in the title. All Tomorrows by C. M. Koseman (I hope I’ve spelled that right).

I don’t remember exactly how I came across it, but I think it was the video by Alt Shift X on YouTube that did it. As you can imagine, my dark thoughts weren’t only directed towards myself, but the world at large. I was wondering how life could be so cruel as to let something so horrific happen to me. I saw the thumbnail of that video and I didn’t know what it was. I had vaguely heard of All Tomorrows, but was more familiar with the much more nihilistic Dougal Dixon book Man After Man, and as such I got the two confused. I clicked on the All Tomorrows video, barely paying much attention and dismissively thinking: “oh great another sci-fi dystopia that predicted humanity’s inevitable downfall”.

What that video showed me absolutely blew my mind. As I discovered C. M. Koseman’s intricate worldbuilding science fiction project, I became fascinated and enthralled by the journeys and evolutions of the various post-human species, from the fun-loving Satyriacs and the mellowed out Snake People, to the bloodthirsty Killer Folk and the horrifying Bone Crushers. Yes, many of the stories were very, very sad. The Mantelopes lost everything and devolved because intelligence was so painful. The Striders, Titans and Temptors were all wiped out before they had the chance to truly reach their full potential. The Qu and Gravitals, one could say, ruined everything. But what truly amazed me was the fact that many, many of these stories also contained great happiness.

The Colonials, for example, suffered through the kind of torture that I wouldn’t wish on the Devil himself. Being wedged together into a wall of flesh bricks, all while retaining intelligence. And yet, they managed to turn into the beautiful Modular People and create a utopian society. Yes, the Killer Folk are traditionally violent, but the ones that made the biggest progress were the ones that chose peace over war. The Satyriacs started off as the mindless Hedonists, but were able to use their intelligence to appreciate every moment of their joyful lives. The lowly Worms became the comfort-loving Snake People, always able to appreciate the little things in life. The flattened Lopsiders rose up from the ground and became the proud, tall Asymmetric People. The list goes on, but you get my point.

The point is, even though this future humanity went through the sort of Hell that makes the past few years look tame by comparison, they always managed to rise up. Sure, nothing was ever quite the same again, but they managed to make something new and wonderful out of that. When you cut an orange, you may not have a whole fruit anymore, but you have lots of slices that can be shared with everyone. The best thing you can do is move forward. The future will always hold something better for you, even if that seems impossible. Don’t be afraid to reach for it. The final quote of this incredible piece of sci-fi wiped away the remnants of dark still clinging to me: “Love today and seize all tomorrows.” To me, that meant “Be a kind soul and you can achieve anything.”

This entire story ignited a strong feeling of empathy within me; an emotion I thought I was too traumatised to ever properly feel or express again. I think that was the point. Sure, the many strange post-humans may not look like us, but we cannot deny that they are human and that brings out the best in us. We shouldn’t be afraid to show empathy for our fellow humans. Thinking lowly of what collectively proves to be our best quality, claiming we’re “above” it and aiming to become “bigger than” everything else deprives us of our humanity. Empathy, compassion, love, that’s what makes us truly powerful. If we can learn to love today, the utopian future we all dream of will finally be ours.

Love is something that, from an early age and for over half my life, I was never truly given. But that doesn’t mean I can’t give it to others. Just as the post-humans were able to move forward and rise from the ashes, I fully intend to do the same. I’m safe now. The people who hurt me are gone from my life and will never hurt me again. I’m surrounded by loving friends, in a city I love, attending a university I love, receiving the therapy I need to heal and soon to be medically transitioning too. Even though I still struggle to accept it, I’m learning to love myself as well. I think that’s the greatest love someone can ever feel. If I continue to love each today that comes, all the tomorrows will be brighter and brighter.

And to think this all started because of a PDF about the hypothetical future of humanity. I’m determined to hold on no matter what. Idk if C. M. Koseman uses tumblr or any other social media for that matter, but if he comes across this somehow, I just want to say “Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I wouldn’t be here today without All Tomorrows.”

https://youtu.be/-WIk29qtrIo

youtube

(PS: I know I have stumbled and made mistakes on my platform as well. I’m still a little bit unsteady after being in such a dark mental state for so long. I’m sorry about that. I am doing better. Thank you all if you made it this far. I love and appreciate every single one of you.)

#arwen speaks #tw: abuse #tw: suicidal ideation #tw: trauma #all tomorrows #personal philosophy #Youtube #science fiction #the future #empathy #the power of love #queue

72 notes · View notes

ar3ndoesarson · 2 years

Text

I give it up to you...

Little Klance oneshot that I couldn't get my mind off of. Hope you enjoy <3

Reblogs are appreciated?? Idk if this is a thing I'm from Twitter......

Title is from 'Heat Lightning' by Mitski.

Stupid mullet. Stupid, stupid, stupid..... How could someone even think about wearing their hair like this? It's ancient and ugly and for some reason this asshat still managed to look so.....

Ugh! Get it together

Keith was Lances (involuntary) rival - nothing would ever change that. But even though they still bicker about every single thing their relationship improved a LOT since that fateful day. The day they found the blue lion.

After some time Lance even considered Keith a close friend and he didn't really mind the mindless bickering. In fact, he actually found the teasing a lot of kind of fun.

But then Lance had to fuck it up.

He remembered the bonding moment. Of course he did because how in the fuck could he forget the swoops his stomach made when that shy smile escaped Keiths lips and his eyes had that little glimmer of hope in them.

No teasing, no bickering, just the trust between them, as teammates. As friends.

He thought the feeling in his guts was probably just the excitement and stress of the battle - that he just needed to rest and the feeling would go away. But it didn't.

It just got stronger and stronger and continued to grow until Lance felt like bursting.

"Uh.... What are you doing here?"

With a shriek (that absolutely didn't happen!) Lance jumped and almost fell off one of the round sofas, that were arranged in a circle in the middle of the room, when he heard another voice interrupt his thoughts.

"Holy shit, Keith??? You startled me, what are YOU doing here?"

"Just finished traing and when I went to the kitchen Hunk asked me to bring you some of.... whatever this is.?" Curiosity awakened, Lance turned around to see what the black haired boy was talking about. He was standing in the doorframe, a tray in his hands. As Keith stepped into the room and placed the tray on the round table in front of them Lance could take a closer look. On it were some pinkish puffs, each one decorated with what looked like blue pearls and some purple sprinkles. Highly dubious, but what else was new?

"Hunk made these?"

"Yup."

"Well in that case...", Lance leaned forward to grab a piece and stuffed it into his mouth. "Mhhhhhhpf, thweyr goof!" Apparently that convinced Keith, who was still standing, looking a bit helpless, to take one of the puffs for himself and sit next to Lance.

Only then Lance noticed the towel around Keiths neck and the semi-dried hair with strands sticking out on the sides. The urge to reach out and put them in place was almost irresistible.

Nope. Nope, get it together. Lance reminded himself, taking another puff just to keep his hands from doing something very foolish.

It's not like he never let himself dream about stuff like that. Sometimes when he layed in his bed the scenarios and what-ifs just kept flooding his brain until he let the tears fall on his pillow, unable to find the strenght to ban the beautiful, yet so hurtful images from his mind.

Him running his fingers through Keiths hair, twirling it between his fingers, making tiny braids in the long, black hair in his neck just to undo them again.

But he only allowed these thoughts when he was alone because first off, he couldn't possibly explain why his face was suddenly blushing furiously and second, because he felt so incredibly guilty about it that he couldn't look Keith straight (heh) in the eyes.

There was a long silence between them. Not of awkward nature but something still seemed... off??

After a while Lamce finally broke it because he couldn't take Keith's furroed brows and the small pout on his face anymore. "So.. good training today?", he asked, leaning back on the couch to stare at the ceiling, hands tucked behind his head.

"Yup. I tried level 4 on the simulator today.", Keith answered and cleared his throat awkwardly, voice a bit hoarse because of the long silence. "Hmm...", the brunette hummed, "bet the gladiator made you shriek like a baby.", he said teasingly, a sly grin in his face.

"Oh? So you're gonna pretend like you didn't scream for your life when I entered the room like, ten minutes ago?", Keith talked back.

From absolute silence right back to lighthearted bickering, how the FUCK?

"Nuh-uh! That didn't happen!"

"Oh I sooo heard it, you liar!", now it was Keith's time to grin. Seeing his bright smile made Lance's stomach do loops.

"Well at least I CAN lie without being unable to look at anyones eyes until I confess my sins."

Something in Keith's expression changed, just for a few seconds but the panick in his eyes was clearly visible.

"I can lie too." he said, a pout on his face, the raven fringe covering his eyes as he sunk his head a bit.

What?

".... Oh yeah?", Lance breathed. He didn't dare ask for too much, afraid Keith might shut down and end the conversation.

"Like......",he hesitated, "Like Hunk asking me to bring you these." with a gesture of his hands, Keith pointed towards the pink blobs. Only a handful were left on the tray.

"What?"

A pained expression took over Keiths face again. This time it didn't go away.

"No time to back out now." the boy muttered under his breath just loud enough for Lance to hear.

"He uh, wanted to bring you these himself. But I told him I could do it because.....", a pause, "because I needed to talk to you and maybe if I'd bring some food you'd be willing to hear me out. Before....uh, running away.... or something...", now Keith finally lifted his gaze to look at Lance's face, only that the brunette was already looking right back at him. Their eyes locked. Lance could see the fear in Keiths eyes.

"Keith... Are you okay?", concern rising with every second. "You know you can talk to me and... and whatever it is I won't think of you any different. Unless you want me to of course - which I'd do right away if you want me to- Oh. I'm rambling. Sorry"

Silence.

Then Keith finally spoke. "Um.. Don't worry. It's not about anything bad. I hope. And it's not about you. Well... It is about you? I- ughh fuck.", he winced and stopped talking, gaze drifting to the ground again.

He took a loud breath in and out, before continuing to speak. "So... Lance, what I've been trying to do - and failing miserably at - is.. asking you on a date."

For the second time today Lance almost fell off of the couch.

"Wha- khhhhggghhsnyj"

He was speechless. Literally not able to form one singular thought - much less a sentence - while his brain was in overdrive.

"Oh god.",was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

Keith winced again, followed by a sad laugh. "I uh.. It's not like I expected anything to happen...I think? Okay I DID ask you out but I just thought you should know and uh I was a bit hopeful maybe.." Another sad smile.

And then the words kicked in.

"You... actually like me?", he asked.

"Heh. Just made that clear." Keith answered

"Oh my god. You like me. You like me and I like you.", Lance paused for a few seconds. "We like each other. Oh my god I am freaking out, okay, holy shi-"

"Wait what? You... you like me too?", Keith looked at Lance again, wide-eyed and a hopeful expression on his face.

"Of course I do, you dumbass."

A relieved huff escaped Keiths lips.

Then they both started laughing until they had to wipe away their tears, both unable to actually believe how lucky they were.

Later in the evening Keith laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Every now and then he pinched his arm to make sure he wasn't actually dreaming.

He heard a knocking from outside the room. "Yeah?", he answered.

As the door slid oped he saw a face splitting grin aimed right at him from the other side of the room.

Oh this HAD to be a dream. He pinched himself again.

Nope, nevermind. Not a dream.

Apparently Lance noticed too, because his eyes followed Keiths hands and then his brows furrowed. "What are you doing?", he asked.

"I needed to convince myself I wasn't dreaming. That would've been devastating.", a shy smile.

"True. But stop that. You'll hurt yourself you idiot.", Lance stepped forward, closing the door behind himself and sitting at the edge of the bed, next to Keith so that he could take his arms with his own hands and examine them.

"It's not that tragic, relax."

"But still.", Lance whined, "there are other ways to check if you're dreaming too, you know?"

"Like what?"

A sly grin. "I don't know. Maybe next time you could give me a kiss and see for yourself."

Keiths face had to be the colour of his lion, judging by the heat lighting up his neck and cheeks.

"You're actually going to kill me, Lance"

Lance snickered and slid his hands down Keiths arms, to his palms, so that he could intertwine their fingers.

Again, heat tickled at Keiths neck.

"Um.. Since when have you known?", he tried to switch the topic before he would probably die of a heart attack.

"Oh.", Lance paused, another grin tugging at his lips, "I may or may not still remember a certain bonding moment very clearly."

"Oh you ass.", Keith whined, unable to stop the smile blooming on his face.

Ahhh tysm for coming so far :D

There shouldn't be any typos, I do apologize in case I missed any. Hope it was a good read <3

#klance #voltron #lance mcclain #keith kogane #voltron fluff #klance fluff #voltron lance #voltron keith #voltron klance #confession #AHHHHHHH #Spotify

37 notes · View notes

white-tulips · 3 years

Text

I spent most of this morning continuing playing through the hikikomori route, more of my thoughts below!! (major spoilers ahead!!!!!)

if you haven’t but want to read my first post on my hikikomori playthrough, you can see it [here]!! it’s been a month since I last played any, aha...

I played for quite a few hours earlier but I don’t think I really progressed all that much aha. most of my time went towards grinding and wandering around and seeing little things. oh, and also playing through Orange Oasis. I never actually did that in my first run of the game. it was okay.

I really love how many little details and things to go back to that there are, but I’m still a little bitter at just. how long everything is. I talked about this a lot in my previous post, but it irritates me that the first 15-20 hours (give or take depending on how fast you’re able to blast through this game) is just. exactly the same as what you experience in the main route. especially since now my hikikomori save file is even longer than my main story file, and I think I still have a decent ways to go until I finish. I don’t actually know! I haven’t been spoiled for this route, thankfully, so I don’t really know how much is left. I have a vague idea of a couple areas I need to go to, but that’s about it.

ok, on to my thoughts!! this post is probably just going to be me rambling about tiny details I found interesting since I didn’t progress through much plot stuff, I think.

when I opened up my save file, I. completely forgot what I had been doing a month ago and what I wanted to do next, so I decided to go back to the Last Resort. I don’t know what compelled me to go, but there was a lot of fun stuff there so I’m glad that I did!

I had never tried to use Aubrey to go into the girls’ bathroom before? it was very cute, I liked it. I don’t know why, but as soon as I walked in it really reminded me of Basil. I think it’s all the flowers, photos hanging from the wall, and general soft cutesy vibe. I’m not really sure what to make of that, but it was just my general impression. hmmmm.

I have no words for this other than it just made me amused. go get your vacation, king.

also:

I didn’t know Hero had a confirmed age!! all this time I had been assuming he and Mari were 16 years old, so it’s nice to have something set in stone!

I have no words for these, either. seeing all of the Hero pictures just made me laugh out loud a little I loved it.

when I was standing in Jawsum’s office, I noticed that the elevator behind his desk was shaking. I went to examine it, and was surprised when this was where I ended up.

the black space elevator.

something I completely forgot to mention in my last hikikomori post was black space!! it had completely took me by surprise so I can’t believe I forgot to talk about it.

last time I played and went back to Last Resort, there was a completely black car on the highway and it had really freaked me out. as soon as I clicked on it, instead of giving me some kind of prompt Omori just got in and it drove off. I was so shocked because I wasn’t expecting it fhgjdfhgj. it ended up taking Omori back to one of the black space rooms, and I had no clue what to make of it. I wandered around for a little while, and ended up finding this... friend?

I’m... not sure! who are you......

anyways, so I got in the elevator and we’re back here, now with more spiders.

the spider wasn’t interactable. not sure whether to be upset or relieved.

aaaand then there was this guy in the treehouse. I want to know what these black space NPCs are!!! as soon as I tried to interact with it, the screen glitched out (intentionally) and then it was gone. one day I’ll know what it means.

oh, another thing I spent quite a bit of time doing at the Last Resort-

getting statues made of everyone!! RIP to all of my clams, but these are so cute.

cuuute.

I really liked the comment on Mari’s! it made me happy that it highlighted her playful side.

after I was done reexploring Last Resort, I wanted to go back to Sweetheart’s castle. I was walking through Pyrefly Forest, and I noticed one of the picnic blankets had a cooler open (signaling that you can see a new picnic cutscene) so I went to go sit down and have a picnic.

so, when I was going around earlier and doing some stuff, there were a few picnics that I think I had skipped for some reason so I was doing them and mindlessly skipping through the text for no reason other than it would bother be if I just left them. nothing about the conversations was different even though Basil is here now, so I didn’t think anything would be different for the one in Pyrefly Forest, but I was wrong!! I almost completely skipped through everything aha.

it started off the same, with Hero being scared of the spiders, and then Kel prompted Basil to say something positive to try and make him less scared.

it’s pretty insignificant, but I thought it was interesting that he said pretty much the exact same thing he says in the spider room in black space.

when I got to the castle, I went straight to the library. something about the pattern of going to black space, plus being able to go into the barn in Otherworld, just made me feel like there would be something there. and oh boy was I right. the entire place was crawling with Something.

very good.....

I wasn’t able to get screenshots of them, but there were a couple text popups that really stood out to me. my memory is so bad I can’t remember all of them even though it was only this morning,,, but I’m pretty sure one of them had a popup that was just “Liar.” and I was like HM....

it just really had me thinking....

in my previous post, I mentioned that I had a gut feeling that the Something in the barn was supposed to represent Basil, not Mari. this kind of added fuel to that thought!

the barn in Otherworld was only used in the main route in reference to Basil, with it literally showing Omori a vision of him, and also having Stranger walking into it. now, the library also has a lot of connection to Basil! after picking up one of the keys, it shows us another vision of him, and it’s also littered with egret orchids. I don’t think choosing to have all of these Somethings in both of these places is just a coincidence.

now, about the “Liar.” line. in any fight with Something, if there’s a text popup meant to be Something speaking, it’s always done like this-

with the “???:” to indicate character speech. but the “Liar.” popup was just a standalone line. and it instantly reminded me of this room in black space-

and this just kept making my brain whirl.

in this room, there were all of these popups with “Liar.” and then of course there was-

see here how there also weren’t indications of who was saying ‘liar”, but there was for Something? my idea for this room was always that it was Omori repeating it to himself. because we all know by now that Something is Mari, and her saying “I love you”, especially in this form, is nothing but pure torment. and I think here, we have Omori unwilling to believe it. there’s no way Mari could love him/Sunny. she has to be lying.

soooo then, this brings me back to the library. having the “Liar.” popup there, keeping in consideration that the Somethings there might represent Basil, what could that mean?? it could be in reference to Basil’s words “Everything is going to be okay” because clearly everything is not okay. if all of these Somethings are meant to be Basil, it could fit!!!

... so there’s my long winded theory. idk! I think it makes sense, but I could be wrong!! that’s just my first impressions right now, maybe my thoughts will change when I play more!

moving onto the piano room-

this was when I thought “ohhhh so that’s why the wall always felt hallow. it all makes sense now”

and then I spent the next 30 or so minutes fighting all of the Somethings

I LOVED this. this was the first time a fight was put on a time limit, and since Something was so much more powerful, it felt actually stressful. I was stressed! but I managed to make it with 2-3 turns left, and I didn’t die. I did die about 1 or 2 times to arachnophobia and thalassophobia though F. but it’s okay because I got an achievement and also Omori’s suffocate skill is really good.

anyways I did some more mindless walking around (I had to kill time waiting for all my statues to be built, you know!)

this made me really happy. Big Molio I love you you’re the mvp and you deserve the world.

... looking through my screenshots I wish I could forget this one-

,, do I need to even explain it.

I remember a while ago, I saw someone on twitter post this and iirc the caption was something like “isn’t it a bit morbid to have the jumprope there” and, at the time, I had never gone through Orange Oasis, so seeing that tweet I had the wind knocked out of me. I was just sitting there like “fuuuuuuuuck”. and then I went through Orange Oasis today, saw it again, went “fuuuuuuuuck” and then forgot I screenshot it. it’s just a lot.

okay who knows how I filled the rest of the 6 hours I played because I didn’t take many screenshots of the downtime and running around completing sidequests I never did. the last point of interest today was I had went back to Humphrey.

I didn’t do too much, but I did fight Mutantheart.

I adore her!!!! so cute!!! Mutantheart my beloved.

I lost to her once, because I was a bit confused, but once I caught on to the gimmick of her fight, it was actually pretty easy. rest in peace, queen, I love you...

and then, uh. Her-

I tried 3 times. I didn’t win... all of the characters are maxed leveled at 50, but this is so difficult... well, the first half of the fight I found to be pretty easy, actually. but once she switches into full power mode it’s over. I don’t know how I’m supposed to win. farewell my dream of completing the foe facts book, it was a nice goal while it was realistic.

and then I stopped for the day! I think I needed that month of not playing, because coming back into the game after a lot of my rage and burnout settled was probably best, and I had a lot of fun playing! hopefully it doesn’t take me another month to continue.

if you made it all the way through this post, thank you for reading! I hope you like my thoughts~

I’ll leave on this note-

king shit

#text #omori #omori spoilers

76 notes · View notes

1kook · 4 years

Text

paint job, hand job

a some way, some how jk smut drabble ((there’s references to it but honestly this could be read alone)) tags; established relationship, more autoshop fun, handjobs, praise pink, spitting :/, nipple play, jk gets pampered basically, hints of domesticity notes; I wrote sw,sh bc I specifically wanted to write this scene and in the end I forgot about it…. so here it is in drabble form 🤩

also thank u to my buddy @kigurumu for reading this over for me 🖤🥺 no more wrong usage of verb tenses🤩 and u have rumu to thank for it!!!!!! also thank rumu for sliding me this gif v.v

In the past few months, you’ve come to learn a multitude of new things about Jungkook. He was still as wonderful and endearing as he’d been his whole life, and with no soul-crushing secrets between you two, you were exposed to a whole new side of him. There were, of course, a lot of nice things, tiny actions you had only just begun to notice; the way his eye twitched when he was looking at a car, the mindless way he’d bump his foot against a wheel when he was thinking. But for all the wonderful things Jungkook was, you would also catch sight of weirder quirks. Not weird in that they made him a terrible person, but weird as in they weren’t exactly qualities the majority of society strived to have. There weren’t many, but the ones you knew of weren’t exactly ideal to your position as his girlfriend.

One, he was extremely bad at asking for help. One time you caught him floating through the bread aisle at the supermarket, hands drifting over the plastic bags as if his touch alone would remind him which was your preferred brand. It was amusing watching him wander like a ghost until you finally walked up behind him, gestured towards a loaf. You didn’t mind little things like this, after all you were very picky about buying the correct brands, and Jungkook knows this. At the time, you thought it was adorable. Overtime, however, you can admit that his fifteen minute detour to the bread aisle could have easily been cut in half with one simple text your way.

Two, he was easily stressed. Jungkook’s job was pretty grueling during the fall, when college kids were back on the roads and fucking up their cars every chance they got. Thanks to the multitude of employees on his team, he was never doing too many repairs at once. But every so often, he’d find a project that spoke to him and he’d pour every ounce of dedication into it. He always did good, always left customers happy. The real obstacle was Jungkook’s own need to always one-up himself. He was perpetually unsatisfied with his work, no matter how many times people praised him.

Lastly, and probably where you find yourself struggling the most, was his inability to communicate these things. He never asked for help, never told you he was feeling stressed. It was a guessing game with him, trying to figure out if he needed some extra support or not. You slipped up at times, tried to help him with something only for him to wave you off with an amused smile.

But there were other times where he desperately needed you and didn’t know how to ask. Like now, the shop completely dark save for a lamp shoved up beside his lonely form in the empty garage.

Rolling your sore ankles around once, your heels clack loudly as you enter the space, keys tossed somewhere onto the metal tabletop as you set to work preparing him a snack. His newest project was repairing a beat up Ford GT from the early 2000’s, a silver body with dark blue decals running over the hood. He had found it somewhere by his mom’s house, fell in love, and had been on a mission to revive it since. All this would’ve been fine, normally, if Jungkook wasn’t so set on getting everything perfect down to the last detail. Tonight, it was fixing the exterior. The garage reeked of paint.

It had been like this for the past three days. You would come over, catch him cooped up in the garage late after working hours, and make him something to eat. The weekend had been okay because you had stayed over most of the day and checked in on him when you could. But Monday was trickier to plan around; one glance at the clock told you it was a little past nine.

That morning, as you packed your lunch, you had been mindful of setting aside some for him too. Now, as you pulled a plastic container of washed and scalped strawberries for him, you were glad you had thought ahead.

It’s much brighter where he is compared to the rest of the garage, the yellow glow of the lamp glaring down at where he’s carefully running a brush against the edge of one, straight line. If he hears you come closer, he doesn’t acknowledge it, furrowed brows narrowed at the metal before him. Setting the container on a tool cart beside him, you lean down to brush your lips against his cheek. “Hi,” you murmur, wait for him to mindlessly turn his head and kiss you.

He does, a quick kiss, before diving back into his work. A beat of silence, and then, “hi, baby,” quietly, almost robotically. You don’t mind, leaning over his shoulder to glance at how perfectly he manages to paint along a straight edge, even with you breathing over his neck. He’s got the stool raised up today to properly lean over the hood of the car. Shorter than you still, but higher up than how you usually find him beneath a car. After a moment you return your gaze to the side of his face, pink bottom lip caught between his teeth as his eyes scan over his work, round glasses barely clinging to his nose. Cute, you think, faintly nudging the spectacles up the bridge of his nose for him. He mutters a soft, “thanks.”

You hum, wrapping your arms around his shoulders when he finally leans away from the car, dark eyes scanning over the paint job. Occasionally you pluck a strawberry out from the container, hold it to his lips as he munches through it, puckered lips mindlessly opening and closing for you. You don’t stop until he’s eaten half of them, by which you then move on to your daily questioning. “What else d’you eat today?” You ask.

It takes him a moment to respond. “Subway,” he says, gestures with a nod at the discarded wrappers in the trash.

“And when was that?”

“Around noon.”

You sigh, rest your forehead on his shoulder. “Baby, that was a long time ago. Have you even showered today?” You ask, tug the beanie off his head to get a whiff of his hair. It smells okay, but you have a feeling his last shower was yesterday night. Jungkook doesn’t say anything but at the first brush of your fingers through his hair, he dissolves. His head rolls back, desperate to feel your touch on him for the first time in a while. You snort, dragging your nails along his scalp. “Feel good?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, body loosening. “So good.”

You beam, trace your fingers down the curve of his neck, until goosebumps are springing up. “You’re so tense,” you note, hands drifting to rub over his shoulders. Jungkook sighs, head falling between his shoulders as you get to work on them. “You need to relax, honey.”

“I know,” he sadly agrees, and, like a baby, stretches his arms up cutely, before letting himself slouch again. You let your hands drop, wrapping your arms loosely around his chest. “But I wanna do good.”

“You always do good,” you tell him, squeezing his middle in reassurance. Jungkook sighs like he doesn’t believe you. “But,” you add, and at this he visibly deflates. “You’d do even better if you relaxed every now and then. No one’s waiting on this car. It’s just for fun, remember?”

He’s always had this obsession with perfection. You suspect it stems from his past, his relationship with Sojin, and most importantly, his relationship with her dad. One can only take so much criticism from their lover’s parents until they snap. Snap, or begin to believe it’s true. He must’ve suffered through so much in their time together and never once did he fight back, a thought that makes you frown as you watch his knee bounce nervously.

Another sigh. You kiss behind his ear, rubbing your hands soothingly over his chest. However, you greatly underestimate how strongly your thirst for Jungkook runs, because even now with him all mopey in your arms, you want nothing more than to please him.

A subtle brush over his abdomen, and Jungkook inhales a tight gasp, abs curling beneath your wandering hands. The sweatshirt he's wearing is your only obstacle. Pressing your lips to the mole on the back of his neck, you move your mouth to his ear. “Let me take care of you?” You murmur, nibbling at one of the tiny hoops that lines his ears.

He tenses up, turning his head, half-lidded eyes analyzing your features. After a moment, he nods, cheeks flushed.

“Good boy,” you purr, hands creeping beneath the hem of his top, faintly tracing over his skin. Jungkook lets out a shaky exhale, muscles tensing under your touch. Another kiss beneath his ear.

It’s rare that he lets you do this, let’s you pamper him while he does nothing. Jungkook was a fairly proactive lover, always making sure you were completely satisfied before anything else. In the past few months of being in a relationship with him, you can hardly remember a time he came without you.

Which is why you take extra care gliding your hands up his chest, over his pecs. His heartbeat thunders beneath your palm, skin so soft and kissable. You’ll save that for another day, you think, tracing a finger over his nipple. It hardens quickly, and you don’t miss the way he shifts in his seat as you begin rolling it between your fingers. “You like that?” You hum, lips pressed against his ear.

It’s so easy to get as close as you’d like, breasts pressing against his back. Jungkook nods, shaky breaths escaping his throat.

While one hand busies itself on his chest, tugging at the sensitive buds until he’s jolting in his seat, the other creeps back around his waist. You run your hand along the skin above his waistband and relish in the way his muscles twitch, until you’re finally slipping it down over his sweats.

His cock is hard, painfully so, and a soft moan escapes him when you run your hand over his length, cupping the head gently. “Look how hard you’ve gotten,” you tease, pressing your palm down more forcefully. Jungkook huffs. “Just from me playing with your nipples,” you chuckle, kissing down the side of his neck. Even through the fabric, you can feel every twitch of his cock, every throb as he grows more and more aroused.

“You like having your nipples played with?” You ask, abandoning his cock to slip both your hands up his shirt again. Jungkook complains with a soft whine, rolling his head back to the ceiling. He’s choked off when you catch both nipples in your hands, pinch the pebbled buds. His hips squirm against the stool, rutting up into nothing, as you continue over his chest. “How does it feel, sweetheart?”

“G-Good,” he gasps, knuckled fists trembling on his knees, pale from how tight he squeezes them. “Can you…?”

“Can I what?” You hum, finally releasing him in favor of gliding your hands down his stomach and over his thighs teasingly. He’s pliant under your touch, muscular thighs reduced to two trembling masses at your every touch.

Jungkook bites down a whimper, eyes trained on the hands that dance over his lower half, barely brushing over his cock like he wanted them to. “Kook?” You croon, right against his ear. He bucks into the air, his head finally lolling back to rest against your shoulder. “Finish your sentence, babe.”

He nods but you can tell he doesn’t remember what he wanted anymore, eyes rolling back behind his foggy glasses. You smirk, pressing a chaste kiss to his jaw. “I, um,” he falters, legs spreading wider as you continue massaging your palms over them. “You…um.” A few more stuttered ‘ums’ later, and then, nothing.

After a moment it’s obvious he won’t say anymore, mind a frazzled mess as he falls headfirst into the sensations you’re bestowing upon him. “It’s not proper to say ‘um’ so many times,” you scold, finally let your hand rest over his cock. He sucks in a breath, teeth clenched. “Good boys don’t do that, y’know.”

“S-Sorry,” he chokes out, and you forgive him with a squeeze around the head of his cock. “Wanna be good,” Jungkook pants, voice strung high.

“I know you do,” you murmur, kissing down his neck as your hand continues rubbing over his cock. His hips circle, body sinking further back onto you as he melts under your touches. “Wiggle your pants down for me, sweetheart.”

“Yes, yes,” he concedes, hands scrambling for his bottoms. Unravelling yourself from around his waist, you wrap your arms around his shoulders instead, watching him as he struggles to tug the rest of his jumpsuit down.

“Kook?” you call, watching his trembling hands fight with his boxers. “relax, okay?”

He nods, takes a deep breath, and then slowly tugs his bottoms down. He doesn’t manage to get that far before his eagerness wins over, and he’s struggling to push them down past the bulge of his muscular thighs. You decide it’s enough, pushing his hands away as you wrap yourself around his waist again, nuzzling your face behind his ear.

“Good boy,” you praise, and a tiny whimper catches in his throat. You glide your hand over his thigh and let it sit at the base of his cock, thumb and forefinger teasingly wrapping around the base.

“Fffuck,” he moans, twitching beneath you.

There’s a pearly bead of precum that forms at the tip, creamy substance slowly dripping down his cock and leaving a glistening trail in its wake. “Pretty,” you comment, watch it pool around your fingers. “But not enough. Kook, spit,” you demand, feel the way his body tenses up at your words.

“Huh?” He chokes, ears and neck flushed as his brain fully wraps around what exactly you’re telling him.

You shift closer, tightening your hand around his cock as you listen to the whine that rips itself from his throat. “You heard me. Lean over, and spit on your cock,” you repeat, feel him shake beneath you. “You’ve done it before, right? Used your own spit to get yourself off.”

He doesn’t answer, so you give his engorged member another squeeze that has him sputtering back to life. “I-I have,” he admits, blush high on his cheeks. “But I never just...spit. On it.”

You hum, watch the way his fingers flex on his thighs.

Deciding to switch tactics, you push as close as you can, licking a thin stripe up the curve of his ear. “But I love watching you spit,” you pout, loosening your grip on him ever so slightly. His cock remains just as stiff, standing almost completely on its own. “Love feeling it all over my body, down my pussy,” you moan, and the way you rub your thighs together is no act. Jungkook throbs in your hold, biting down another groan. “Don’t you wanna know how good it feels?”

His breaths come out shaky, head nodding at your words. He ducks down, dark hair covering his eyes from your view, but not his mouth. His lips pucker, and ever so slowly, a thin trail of spit drips down from his mouth, glistening in the lamp light until it finally reaches his cock, coating his length in a thick sheen that drips down over your knuckles.

Fuck, he was gorgeous. “That’s it,” you gently encourage, slowly beginning to work your hand over his cock. The glide is slippery, squelching noises filling the huge garage as your fist pumps up and down his cock. “Doesn’t that feel good?”

Jungkook groans, bucking into your palm with every squeeze you give. “Ye-yes,” he pants, skin warm and flushed as you kiss over his neck.

His cock is still so hard, twitching for you. You could do this for hours, feel the heavy weight of his arousal in your hands, listen to his tiny gasps of excitement. His head lolls back again, and you can’t help the endeared smile from watching him fall apart in your hands. “Sweetie, look,” you call out, finally making your other hand useful as you cup his balls.

Jungkook hisses. “Babe, that’s—“ a moan rips itself from his throat, your hands massaging over his swollen balls, caressing him as your hand picks up its pace on his cock. “Too much,” he whimpers.

You press a kiss to his neck, nibble at the skin until it’s bruising. He’s quivering like a leaf, sweat trailing down from his hair and over his skin, your name falling from his lips like it’s all he knows.

The head of his cock is angry and swollen, dripping in precum and his own saliva. You want it in your mouth, but the moment was already so fragile, so close to the end, you didn’t want to mess that up by pulling away. So you tighten your grip, licking the beads of sweat from his neck until Jungkook spasms in your hold.

“Fuck, shit, I’m gonna,” he grunts, body caving over as his orgasm hits, grabs him by the throat until he’s gasping for you to stop, voice wobbling on every syllable. You don’t, choosing to stroke him through until his cock is limp, jumpsuit stained with pearly splatters of white.

After he’s done, you press another kiss to his ear. “Good boy,” you smile, straightening your back after wiping your hands against his soiled uniform. You step away and snatch some napkins off the metal table to wipe him down.

You can tell he’s not completely there yet when you crouch down in front of him, dark eyes unfocused as you make a lousy effort to wipe the splattered droplets of cum off his jumpsuit bottoms. “Hello,” you tease, nudge his chin with your hand. “Anyone there?”

Jungkook snaps out of whatever post-orgasm trance he’d been in and helps you to your feet. “Fuck, that was good,” he sighs, and you giggle. “Screw the car, can we just go to your place?”

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook drabble #jungkook drabble #mine #swshd

419 notes · View notes

k-pop-imagines · 4 years

Text

ATEEZ Reaction || You call him in the middle of the night

>>> HONGJOONG <<<

You had a pretty bad day and when you come home from your shift, you badly need to talk and maybe vent to someone.

You try calling Hongjoong but he doesn’t pick up. You give up after about three tries, remembering that he’s probably in the studio and his phone is either on silent, airplane more, or completely shut off.

He calls you back as soon as he takes a break and checks his phone for the first time in hours.

You playfully scold him, telling him that he shouldn’t be up this late since he’s got a schedule early in the morning, in a few hours. But you also understand that once he’s got an idea stuck in his head, he simply can’t rest until it’s written down.

You confess that you haven’t had a very good day and despite his work, he’ll take the time to listen to you.

Hongjoong rambles about his own day afterwards to take your mind off of your issues. He’ll talk about what he’s working on and ask your opinion on a few things before urging you to go to sleep, promising he’ll be home with you soon.

>>> SEONGHWA <<<

When his phone starts ringing on the nightstand, he stirs almost immediately.

He’s a little disorientated at first but as soon as he sees your name on the display, he’s wide awake.

Seonghwa is super confused and very, very worried. You never called him this late - or this early - before. Did something happen? Were you hurt? Did you get into an accident? The wildest scenarios run through his head in the few seconds it takes for him to reach the phone and accept the call.

“What’s up? Are you okay?” When you hear the worry in his voice, you instantly feel bad for contacting him. You beat around the bush for a while, feeling embarrassed about the reason you were calling.

“I just wanted to hear your voice...”

After hearing your words, he sighs in relief and lets out a small chuckle.

Even though Seonghwa is really tired, he talks about his day for a while and will even sing you a lullaby, if you ask nicely.

>>> YUNHO <<<

It takes quite a while for him to wake up and realize what exactly is going on. He spends a few minutes searching for his phone, almost missing your call.

His voice sounds hoarse and drowsy when he picks up and asks what’s up, making you feel bad for waking him up.

“So, uhm. I’ve got a small problem. No. A big one, actually.”

He forces himself to sit up straight and focus on your words despite still being half-asleep. “Which is?”

“There’s a bug in my bedroom. A huge one. Like, a moth the size of my head.”

Yunho lets out a small laugh, not because he’s making fun of you, but because he finds it absolutely adorable. He also feels kind of honored that your first instinct was to call him.

Even though it takes some convincing, he agrees to come over to save you from the vicious beast, secretly hoping you were just exaggerating when you described its size.

>>> YEOSANG <<<

You feel lonely. ATEEZ left to go on tour around two weeks ago and while you try to keep in contact, Yeosang is often very tired after performing or busy with oversea schedules.

Today, after an extremely stressful argument with your boss, you just need to hear your boyfriend’s voice, even if it’s only for a few seconds.

When he picks up the phone and drowsily asks if you know what time it is, it hits you. Somehow, you completely forgot about the time difference and that it was the middle of the night for him.

Yeosang playfully scolds you but he’s secretly very happy that you decided to call him, even if the timing wasn’t the best.

He talks a little about the concert, keeping his voice as quiet as possible so he doesn’t wake up his roommate.

You end up talking for almost an hour when he realizes that he has to get up soon and has to end the call, but you’re more than thankful for the time you got to have with him.

>>> SAN <<<

San is utterly confused when he wakes up to the personalized ringtone he set for you. It’s 2am and you had met just a few hours earlier, was everything alright?

“What’s up, love?”, he asks, trying to sound as awake as possible even though he could barely keep his eyes open.

“I’m sorry for calling you in the middle of the night... but I had a nightmare and I can’t fall back asleep.”

He tries to comfort you, even offering to come over but you decline, knowing that he’d have to get up early and you didn’t want to inconvenience him even more.

His comforting words turn into mindless talks about literally anything that could distract you but he’s so tired that he ends up falling asleep in the middle of the conversation. Lucky for him, the same thing happens on the other end of the line.

>>> MINGI <<<

The sound of thunder and the flickering night sky wake you up abruptly. Instinctively, you reach for your phone and dial your boyfriend’s number.

Mingi blindly tries to find his phone, head still pressed into the pillow. The only sound greeting you is a barely audible “Mhm?”, indicating that he was fast asleep until know.

“Ah, did I wake you up? I’m sorry,” you quickly apologize but Mingi tells you not to worry and that he was awake anyway, even though that was a blatant lie. He just didn’t want you to feel bad.

“I know you don’t like thunderstorms, so I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” He smiles softly at your words.

The two of you talk about each other’s day, trying to distract and comfort the other through the loud noises outside. All the fear either of you had was washed away.

You talk for a long time, a few hours until the storm is over and both of you can go back to sleep peacefully.

>>> WOOYOUNG <<<

It’s the middle of the night and you want, no, you need cuddles. And you are willing to risk an annoyed or even angry Wooyoung to get them.

It takes a few minutes and two failed call attempts for him to wake up and pick up his phone.

He’s cranky and does not appreciate the fact that you woke him up. When you state your reasoning, he does soften up a little, though.

“I’ll give you a kiss if you come over and cuddle me.” “Meh.” “Two kisses?” “You got anything better?” “Fine, I’ll order pizza as well.” “I’m on my way, babe.”

There is no way in hell he would admit that he would have come over anyway. He craves affection just as much as you do and was genuinely glad you woke him up for a cuddle session.

>>> JONGHO <<<

Jongho doesn’t wake up by himself, Seonghwa comes over from the other room because he heard the phone ringing and shakes the maknae awake to have him pick up his call.

“I think there’s a ghost in my apartment.”

Once he’s awake, as awake as one can be at 3am, he listens intently.

A part of him desperately wants to tease you but when he hears in your voice that you’re genuinely scared, he stops himself and tries to take you seriously.

You explain what kind of paranormal events have been happening recently, and especially this night. He tries to give reasonable explanations but you refute all of them. “It’s probably your neighbor walking around upstairs.” “She’s on vacation.” “There could be mice in the walls.” “We had an exterminator here yesterday, he said everything was clean.”

He sighs, and even though he is definitely sleep-deprived, he decides to rush over to protect you.

#ateez imagine #ateez x reader #ateez reaction #ateez reactions #ateez scenario #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #jongho #wooyoung

326 notes · View notes

hotchscotchh · 3 years

Text

The Milk Cooler

Hey y’all! I’m not sure how much I like this one, I also have absolutely no idea where the idea for it came from lmao

Summary: Spencer meets a strange man from the other side of the milk cooler

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Warnings: FLUFF

Word count: 1.5k

Read on AO3

Spencer Reid absolutely, positively, hated his job. It wasn’t that he wanted to work here, he just needed the money and nowhere else was hiring. Now, he wasn’t worried about paying for his classes at Georgetown, he was worried about being able to keep him mom in the Bennington Sanitarium in Las Vegas. Spencer often had a hard time believing he allowed himself to move so far away from his mother and his hometown. Though he didn’t have many good memories of the town, he often found himself missing the warm weather and going into the city to outsmart anyone he could at the casinos.

Anyway, Spencer had found himself working at a local grocery store that was only a few blocks away from his current apartment. The work was seemingly meaningless busywork. But, if he was making money, he was making money. And that’s what mattered, right? Spencer had just turned 20 last week. He finished his second doctorate, which was in chemistry, the month before. He already had one in math and was about to begin a third in engineering. He also had a few bachelor’s degrees under his belt and was now working on one in psychology. He had big dreams of working the FBI’s renowned Behavior Analysis Unit. His mother was always good at reading people and it was a skill he had gratefully picked up.

Spencer’s favorite task at the grocery store had always been and will always be restocking the milk cooler. When he was doing that, he didn’t have to face any other people. Spencer had tried being a cashier for a while, but he was just too socially awkward to be able to interact with that amount of people on a daily basis. So, his manager decided he would be better off stocking shelves. This made Spencer’s life a little easier and a lot less stressful. The work was easy, mindless, he could let his mind wander and not be seen as crazy for just thinking and not responding to things around him. He had to talk to a lot less people this way. Sure, the odd person would ask him for help finding something sometimes, and of course he would help them. He didn’t mind little interactions like that.

Spencer’s world was spun on its axis one day while he was stocking the milk cooler. He never had to interact with people while he was there. But one day, he noticed there was an entire row of half-gallon bottles of whole milk empty. He silently thanked the workers from the shift before, as it gave him an excuse to be in the cooler for longer than normal. It took him a few minutes to locate the half-gallons, but when he did, he set right to work. As soon as he had set the first carton of milk in the slot, the cooler door opened, and a hand reached in to take it out. Spencer didn’t notice this and jumped when the next carton slid all the way to the front of the slot.

“Well, hello in there,” a deep voice said from the other side.

“Uh, h-hi,” Spencer stuttered out, shocked that the strange man had noticed he was in there.

“Havin’ fun back there?”

Spencer gave a breathy laugh. The voice was attractive, and he was unusually flustered by it. “Sure,” he replied, “If you consider picking up on your coworker’s slack fun.”

It was the other man’s turn to laugh. Spencer shifted his position, wondering if he could get a good look at the mysterious man who was talking to him through a milk cooler. “Tryna get a look at me, Pretty Boy? I can see you back there.”

Spencer jumped. “Um, n-no, just uh… trying to get back to work,” he managed to sputter out. He reached up to place another carton of milk in the slot. The man on the other side chuckled and reached out to grab Spencer’s hand softly. “I’ll see you around, Pretty Boy.”

The milk door closed. Spencer tried to shake off the interaction and get back to work, but he ended up being flustered and distracted for the rest of his day.

----

Derek Morgan also happened to be a student at Georgetown. He didn’t have three PhD’s and two BA’s though. He was just working on a bachelor’s in psychology. So, when he went to get a half-gallon of whole milk from the grocery store, he was surprised to find the cute little quiet boy that sat in the back of his psych class stocking the cooler. Derek kind of had a thing for the boy, not that he would admit it. He’d never even spoken to the kid (he didn’t even know his name!), and before today, he was fairly certain he wouldn’t. But after that encounter, how could he not? The kid had been so flustered, just by the little not-even-a-conversation conversation they had. Derek wanted to see him blush in full light, and not half hidden by the shelves in the cooler. He decided that night that he would not go another day without properly talking to this kid.

----

The next morning, Derek got to class early, hoping the boy would already be there and he could talk to him for a minute or two. He wasn’t surprised to see that Spencer was the only one in the room, even before the professor. He slid into the seat next to him. Spencer was lost in a book and didn’t hear the door opening or the man sliding into the seat beside him.

“Good morning, Pretty Boy,”

Derek said quietly, smirking. Spencer jumped, again, and looked over at Derek, finally realizing that there was someone else in the room. “I- what? Pretty Boy?”

“You seemed to like it when I called you that from the other side of the milk cooler last night.”

Spencer’s eyes widened and he blushed a furious shade of red. “That was you? Wait you, someone who looks like, well, that, thinks I am pretty?”

Derek chuckled. “Sure thing, Pretty Boy. Do you have a pretty name to go with your pretty face?”

“I’m not pretty,” Spencer insisted. “But my name is Spencer.”

“Oh, you definitely are pretty. It’s almost a crime that anyone would let you think otherwise. My name’s Derek. Any chance you would want to get coffee with me after class?”

“I’d love to Derek, but I have plans to go sit in on Alex Blake’s linguistics lecture. Unless you want to come with me, that is.” Spencer couldn’t believe how easily the words were flowing from his mouth. He had never been able to speak to someone like this before. There was something about the way Derek looked at him that put him at ease.

“That sounds wonderful, Spencer.” Spencer blushed redder, if that was even possible, and ducked his head. Their professor starting his lecture ended their conversation.

----

An hour and a half later, Spencer found himself sitting in a coffee shop with two caramel lattes and Derek Morgan in front of him. He still couldn’t believe that someone that looks like Derek Morgan would be attracted to someone that looks like him.

Derek pulled him out of his thoughts by saying, “so, what are you studying at Georgetown?”

“That’s a loaded question,” Spencer replied with a small giggle. “I have two PhD’s, one in mathematics and one in chemistry, I’m starting one in engineering next week. I also have a couple odd BA’s, and obviously I’m working on my psych one right now.”

“What are you, some kind of genius?”

Their conversation continued like this until their lattes were gone, and then some. Derek asked Spencer if he could walk him home. Spencer blushed and nodded. When they made it out of the coffee shop and onto the sidewalk, Derek took Spencer’s hand in his.

“This okay, Pretty Boy?” Spencer nodded again and squeezed Derek’s hand.

They walked the few blocks back to Spencer’s apartment building in silence, enjoying the company and the beautiful day, only stopping when they reached Spencer’s door.

“I’d love to do this again sometime, Derek,” Spencer said, surprising himself. He pulled a pen out of his pocket and wrote his phone number on Derek’s arm.

When he was done writing, he looked back up at Derek and gave a big grin, proud of himself. Derek reached his hand up to Spencer’s face and cradled one cheek.

Spencer leaned into the touch. Derek came a step closer. “Can I kiss you?” Instead of giving an answer, Spencer leaned forward and pressed his lips to Derek’s, giving him a soft, chaste kiss. “No more until you call me,” Spencer said after he pulled away, slipping into his apartment and leaving a shocked Derek Morgan outside.

Taglist: @peachpitfics @wheelsup @endingsbeginnings @ssa-kassidyhughes @criminalmindsfan13

#Moreid #Derek morgan x spencer reid #derek morgan/spencer reid #fluff #to the max #spencer reid #derek morgan #spencer gets a kith #eee #i thinks its cute #idk

50 notes · View notes

bjornthorsson20 · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2

Hermione Granger was many things, but patient was not one of them. Today, she had arrived at the library early to study (though most people would say she didn't need to, which was simply preposterous), and to help Ginny with homework, which apparently seemed to run in the Weasley family.

She was currently seated at her favorite spot in the library, the one furthest from the entrance where no one would bother her, and the library itself was thankfully empty at the moment. Ginny was late for their study session, and Hermione was beginning to think she had forgotten about it, but went back to studying in the hopes her red-haired friend would arrive soon.

No matter how much she tried concentrating though, her mind kept wandering back to a certain infuriating ginger boy that insisted on plaguing her thoughts as of late.

For a while now, Hermione was aware that she was infatuated with her best friend, Ron Weasley.

The first signs were during her second year when Malfoy called her a mudblood and Ron jumped in to hex him, which he would've done had his wand not backfired on him. Despite that, Hermione felt touched by Ron wanting to protect her, and that idea made her feel things she didn't entirely comprehend at the time. She knew even then that had it been Harry, those feelings would not have been the same.

From then on, Ron would continue to prove to her that what she felt towards him was different. Everytime Ron did something for her, like when he stood up for her in third year after Snape called her a know-it-all, Hermione imagined the same scenario playing out with Harry instead, and everytime that euphoria just wasn't there. She even remembered feeling excited at the prospect of spending an entire Hogsmeade trip with just Ron, then immediately feeling guilty for being happy that Harry had been left out. It wasn't that Hermione didn't care for Harry just as much as she did for Ron, but Harry was simply like a brother to her and, likewise, she was sure Harry viewed her as a sister, regardless of whatever mindless drivel that wretched, repugnant, heinous excuse for a reporter spewed into her disgusting, detestable articles. Merlin, she hated that woman!.

Hermione still remembered the moment she was hit with the realization of her attraction towards Ron in full. It was sometime after the trip to Hogsmeade, when the three of them were in the common room doing homework. Hermione was sitting between both boys, and she noticed Ron had sat closer to her than usual, though she decided not to point out that fact in fear he would get self-conscious about it and move away (she didn't mind the proximity, after all). She was in the middle of her "insert-Harry-here" scenario, when Ron's elbow bumped into hers, sending her back to reality. She immediately blushed and attempted to go back to her essay, though she only managed to stare at it as if she were interrogating her paper. She couldn't help glancing at Ron to check his reaction.

That was when she looked at him, as in, really looked at him.

She noticed the way his hair stuck out at odd angles, creating a messy arrangement of flaming red that she wanted to run her hands through and feel it slide perfectly between her fingers; the pattern of freckles spattered across his face creating a constellation-like mosaic on his complexion that she wanted to take a closer look at and count one by one for hours on end. His blue eyes (Hermione couldn't tell the exact shade) resembled two small bluebell flames which seemed to be brimming with magic the longer she stared at them mesmerized; the subtle movement of his facial muscles as he concentrated on his essay, the furrow of his brow, the narrowing of his eyes which accentuated his beautiful golden lashes, and the pursing of his lips, lips she found herself wanting to know how they would feel against her own.

And that was the moment it hit her like a ton of bricks. Hermione Granger fancied Ron Weasley!

The suddenness of that conclusion was so overwhelming that she couldn't pretend to concentrate any longer, so she quickly gathered her things, muttered a goodnight to Ron and went up to her dorm room, wanting to put as much distance between them as possible.

From that day on, Hermione would continue noticing things about him, like how big yet gentle his hands were, how his freckles seemed to cover his arms just as beautifully as his face, leaving some parts of his skin looking almost tanned, or how he now stood a full head above her (and he showed no signs of his growth stopping anytime soon, a fact that left her with a weird fluttering sensation on the inside). Now, Hermione had a hard time keeping herself from staring at him so much, and she had caught herself a couple of times on the verge of straight up confessing to him.

That was when the logical part of her brain would come in and try to reason with her why she shouldn't be so impulsive with her emotions. For one thing, she still had no indication that Ron returned her feelings, and it wasn't worth taking a risk like that, potentially ruining their friendship or making things awkward between them, just so she could find out what Ron’s lips tasted like. Oh, but the sweet temptation. For another, and this was the hard pill to swallow, Hermione had to concede the possibility that a guy like Ron would perhaps not be interested in a girl like her.

Hermione knew herself — she wasn't model material; she was plain, unremarkable, simple. Her hair was too bushy to be tamed in any way that could be considered eye-catching; her face was a little too thin to be called charming; her body shape was too slim to be regarded as attractive. She wasn't one to be superficial like this, but when analyzing the type of females that might hold Ron’s attention, she needed to face the reality of it; she wasn't a Veela, and she wasn't Madame Rosmerta. She was just Hermione Granger.

But it wasn't just a matter of not being physically suited for Ron. Hermione was also well aware that she was a difficult person to deal with; she could be overbearing, nagging, and unbearable at times. She tended to be very stubborn, and hated being wrong most of all, which didn't make her the easiest person to debate with. She had a vicious temper that could dish out the nastiest retorts when she was hacked off (not counting those days, of course). She could go on, but as Ron had so bluntly put it back in their first year, Hermione Granger was a nightmare. Back then, she convinced herself that her tears were because Ron had insulted her and it had hurt, and that was part of it. However, she knew now what had stung most about his words.

The fact that he was right. Hermione was a nightmare. She had no friends growing up before Hogwarts, and even after coming to the magical world, she still struggled to form bonds, to interact with people in a way that wasn't completely off-putting. Even her dorm mates didn't seem to like her very much, so she was still an outcast. It was baffling that her two best friends even put up with her. They were everything she wasn't; they had fun, they were relaxed, easygoing, funny (especially Ron), likeable. It was clear that Harry favored Ron over her, and who could blame him?

Then, there was the matter of Ron himself. Hermione truly believed that he liked her, admired her even, cared for her genuinely. She just couldn't understand why that was. Honestly, Ron could be so infuriatingly confusing at times. One moment, he would be making her laugh and having fun, then later he’d snap at her and act all moody for no reason.

The Scabbers and Crookshanks incident stuck out in her mind. Even though they had already settled that matter and she had apologized for it, Hermione still didn't understand why that had upset Ron so much. Ron always complained about his poor old rat, then got devastated when it was gone. It didn't add up, and she spent the entirety of that situation confused, but most of all scared for the future of their friendship (she even cried over it to Hagrid, for Merlin's sake!). Hermione had wanted to apologize sooner, but after the disagreement she had had with both boys over the Firebolt — which was another thing that contributed to Ron being hacked off with her, adding to the stress she was already undergoing due to her bloated schedule — she was just too upset and felt ganged up in both situations, so she held on to her stupid sense of pride instead of just admitting that she was wrong to let Crookshanks run free, even if it turned out that Scabbers wasn't actually dead and Crookshanks was trying to help them. The point is, they didn't know that.

Reflecting back on it, Hermione realized she had been very insensitive to the whole issue, and that maybe had led Ron to believe she didn't care for him or what he had. But that was the biggest problem! Hermione just wasn't good at being sensitive — she was far too logical and prideful to deal with things on a deep emotional level. Ron was the complete opposite, as he was much more emotionally driven and didn't overthink things like her. Just more confirmation to herself that they weren't compatible at all.

Oh, but she certainly allowed herself to believe otherwise. It hadn't escaped her that Ron had given her signals, however mixed they were, that he could possibly feel the same for her.

He had stayed by her bed in the infirmary every night he could after her Polyjuice mishap in second year, and, as she had learned from Harry after the fact, Ron had done the same when she was petrified. There was that awkward handshake they shared in the Great Hall after they had hesitated on a hug (she had had no problem hugging Harry, though). Then, the way Ron kept glancing at her and blushing when she caught his gaze, smiling shyly at her, or how his hand kept brushing against hers as if debating if he should hold it during their trip to Hogsmeade. He had a general caring nature towards her, making sure she ate and didn't overwork herself (even when they were in the middle of their big fight in third year), as well as helping her relax and have fun. He helped her with the Buckbeak case, jumping in to her aid without hesitation despite her still not having apologized to him. He also demonstrated possible jealousy and annoyance over Hermione's admiration for Lockhart (what was she even thinking?!) and Cedric.

These were somewhat weak points, she could admit. The infirmary visits, and his caring nature, are a couple of things that could just be brushed aside as Ron just being Ron; selfless, protective, loyal. These were all characteristics that defined Ron's behaviour towards everyone he considered important. These were the things that attracted her to him beyond his superficial beauty. His behaviour in Hogsmeade and in the common room, that might have simply be due to Ron being a teenage boy, and as Hermione very well knew, teenage boys were attracted to any girl on a base level, so perhaps it wasn't so much Hermione that was causing this, as was simply the fact that she was a girl (though she still found it laughable that she would be attractive to any boy even on a superficial basis).

It was a constant battle with herself over this. Her emotions would argue one thing, clinging to what little hope she had of something more with Ron, and her mind would immediately attempt to shut it down. It was a defense mechanism; she was just too scared of the possibility of rejection and wanted to lessen those intense feelings to avoid a potential heartbreak.

And then, the Yule Ball was announced. That seemed like the perfect opportunity for Hermione to finally get confirmation of Ron's true feelings towards her. He would either ask her, which she told herself would only happen in her wildest dreams, or someone else, which would crush her inside before she eventually came to accept it.

Well, the Yule Ball was now almost here, and so far, Ron had not asked her or anyone else for that matter — not counting his invitation to Fleur under the influence of her Veela charm, something she knew he couldn't help, but left her feeling jealous all the same, which her mind once again reminded her was baseless considering their current relationship status. Hermione had asked Harry if Ron had said anything about the Ball, or if he had anyone in mind already. Harry would look at her with an odd expression, before shrugging and telling her he had no idea. She found his behaviour a tad suspicious, but otherwise didn't press further. So, Hermione had been left to merely speculate on Ron's behaviour.

For now, Hermione came up with three possibilities. First, Ron already had a specific someone in mind but was afraid of the possibility of rejection. Second, Ron was afraid of being ridiculed by his dress robes. She knew how much he loathed them, and he had whined about it whenever the Ball was mentioned. Third, it was merely a combination of the two previous ones; they weren’t mutually exclusive, after all.

There was a fourth possibility, actually, but it was so ridiculous that Hermione felt dumb just entertaining the idea. However, maybe (and that was a very huge maybe), Ron did want to ask her, but was afraid of being rejected, ridiculed, or both. That would be a nice idea for her heart to cling to, if it wasn’t for the fact that Ron had no reason to believe Hermione would reject him or ridicule him (she had told him she didn’t find the dress robes that bad). She knew Ron didn’t have a lot of confidence in himself, she had told Harry as much, but surely he knew that even if he wanted to go as just friends, she wouldn’t shoot him down (the Ball didn’t require the pair to be a romantic one). If Ron believed she wasn’t available anymore, it’d make sense he’d be hesitant to risk it. But, again, he had no reason to believe anyone would be interested in asking her. Okay, to be fair, there was Viktor and he had already asked her three times, with her letting him down gently each time saying she wasn’t sure she’d go. That’d been puzzling even to her; why was Viktor asking her when he had dozens of fangirls starving for his attention? They barely interacted; she just helped him with homework, therefore Ron had no basis for any suspicions.

“Hey,” a familiar voice broke Hermione out of her musings. She looked up to see Ginny, having finally arrived.

“You’re late,” said Hermione, trying not to sound too irritated, only succeeding a little bit.

“Or maybe you’re just too early,” replied Ginny, sitting down across from Hermione, taking out her books and parchment.

Hermione decided to let that go and to focus on helping Ginny with what she needed. They started working, and after a while, Hermione began wondering if she’d get to interact with Ginny more often. They were a year apart, and as such, she already had her own friend group, but Hermione hoped she could call the ginger girl a friend one day. She would like a girl friend she could confide in, and talk about subjects she wouldn’t dare bring up with her boys. Harry had asked Ginny to the ball, and lately, seemed to be cozying up to her a lot more, which gave Hermione hope she would become a part of their circle soon.

Given Ginny very clearly fancied Harry, there was the possibility of something more developing under the surface there if Harry ended up infatuated with her as well. Now, if only Ron could ask-

Hermione noticed Ginny smirking devilishly at her, and was about to ask what it was, when another familiar voice from behind the bookshelf caught her by surprise.

"C'mon, mate, stop pretending to be interested in this. You're gonna talk to me." She heard him snort. "Immediate Transfiguration. Mate, you seriously expect me to believe you were willingly reading up on homework?" Hermione didn’t know who Harry was speaking to, but her immediate guess would be the same person who occupied her thoughts earlier. If this was indeed him, Hermione couldn’t deny it was a surprise to hear that he was reading one of their textbooks but she wouldn’t doubt him doing so. She knew Ron could be brilliant when he set his mind to things and didn’t second guess himself.

Suddenly, Harry stopped laughing and everything behind the bookshelf went quiet. The silence felt tense somehow. Hermione wanted nothing more than to go up to Harry and demand answers as to what this was all about. Ginny’s smirk, Harry’s position, having Hermione obscured behind a bookshelf; she was pretty certain that this was a plan for her to eavesdrop on some important conversation. If the person Harry was with was indeed the one she had in mind, she didn’t want to hear some potentially embarrassing secret and break his trust; it was just wrong.

And yet, Hermione couldn’t bring herself to move a single inch from where she sat. For some reason she couldn’t quite put into words, Hermione knew that whatever he was going to say, she needed to listen. The voice that spoke next confirmed her suspicions, but this wasn’t how Ron spoke at all.

"Yes, I was reading this book for real. Figured I could finally follow Hermione's advice and try to learn something to make myself worthwhile in class, saving McGonagall the stress and disappointment. But judging by your reaction, I guess I'm too much of a joke at this point to be smart in any way. I should've left it to Hermione. It's her thing."

Hermione was hit by a barrage of emotions from his statement, none of them good. She didn’t even know where to begin. Ron was reading up on homework because of her? She thought he found her nagging when it came to her reprimands. Hermione should’ve felt elated by that admission, instead of the cold chill that seeped into her bones from Ron’s tone. She wanted to get up and tell him that he wasn’t a joke, that he was smart, but felt like intervening wouldn’t be the right thing to do here.

She heard Harry try apologizing for what he implied before, but Ron didn’t wanna hear it. Ron didn’t sound angry or anything, and that should’ve relaxed Hermione, but instead it just made things worse, somehow.

"Why won't you take Hermione to the Ball with you? Don't even try to say it's those dress robes, I know that's rubbish." And there was the question Hermione now knew was what Harry wanted her to hear without Ron being aware of her presence. She was definitely curious for the answer, but given Ron’s sudden shift in mood, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it.

"You want the truth, then?" Ron now sounded… normal? Hermione hoped this meant that whatever explanation came next would be silly and they could drop it for good.

What she heard instead shocked her to the very core and once again, she didn't know how to feel about it all.

Ron… loved her? Hermione Granger? But… he didn’t think she felt the same way? Why?

Hermione didn’t need to think too much about it before Ron gave her his reasons. Hearing Ron put himself down like that hurt so much that Hermione had to cover a strangled sob that threatened to come out. Ugly? He was the most attractive person to her in many ways! And he was not stupid, he just doubted himself too much! And who gave a rat’s arse about him being poor?! That wasn’t his fault, and it didn’t make him less of an amazing person! Yes, he could be rude and vulgar, but he was allowed to be flawed! He wasn’t perfect, no one was! But his qualities far outweighed his flaws! Why couldn’t he see that?!

"I'm surprised Hermione and I are even friends; that she puts up with me when she can rattle off a list of all that's wrong with me, which just further proves I'm hopeless and I don't have a single worthwhile thing about me."

That wasn’t true! She always let Ron know how great she thought he was! Back in first year, she had told him how amazing he was for sacrificing himself in the chess game… right? No, he was knocked out after that. But she did tell him later… no, she didn’t. B-but, second year, she thanked him for defending her against Malfoy! Then again, he ended up hexing himself, so that probably didn’t count as a win for him. She let him and Harry know she was proud of them for killing the Basilisk. Well, Harry killed it alone, actually… he still couldn’t have done it without Ron! Oh, in third year, Hermione appreciated him standing up for her. She remembered… scolding him for it. Why did she scold him?! She knew why, because she didn’t like that he got detention, and felt guilty over it. But she could’ve thanked him, too! She did thank him for helping with the Buckbeak case… which they lost, leaving Ron probably feeling like it all meant nothing, and he didn’t help at all. And he didn’t get to accompany Harry and her in saving Buckbeak and helping Sirius due to being unconscious. Did she remember to tell him how brave he was for standing up to Sirius on a broken leg? Ugh, why was it so easy for her to point out his less-than-stellar moments but assume he would know when she admired something he did?

Ron’s next words would’ve made Hermione laugh if she wasn’t already trying her hardest not to cry profusely over every word. She was gonna rule the world? More like bore it to death. That whole “smartest witch of her age” always rubbed her the wrong way. What made her “the smartest”? The fact that she read and memorized a lot of books? Anyone could do that if they believed they could do it! Ron could be just as smart as, if not smarter than her if he wanted. It wasn’t fair for Ron to feel like he was less just because of a label people attached to her. Hermione felt moved to hear that Ron actually believed she would make a positive change in the world, when she previously thought he considered S.P.E.W to be pure rubbish.

His mention of Ginny made Hermione look at her for the first time since Ron started talking. Her expression was stony, and she was just staring at her hands with a vacant look, like she wasn’t aware of her surroundings anymore, only listening in to her brother’s words. Hermione could only imagine what it felt like for her to hear Ron speak so low of himself like that.

"Then there's me, honestly, can you point out a single thing you can say I'm good at? And, I don't want to hear you say things like "you're brave, you're funny, you're kind". No, I want actual talent for something." C’mon, Harry, remind him he’s just as good as us! Hermione waited for Harry to go on and on about everything he couldn’t have accomplished without Ron by his side. She was greeted by silence.

"See? Nothing. None of the subjects here, nothing in these books. I'm not good at a single damn thing that at least 10 other wizards can't do better. I guess there's chess, but no one has ever taken that as something serious from me. It's just a game, anyway, not a career potential." Ignoring her anger at Harry for the moment, she sat fuming at Ron instead for downplaying an impressive skill of his. It was not just a game! That skill is what allowed them to pass McGonagall’s test! Knowing how to play it could prove wonders if Ron were to pursue a career in the Aurors as a strategist! And he was not below average in magic; he clearly didn’t remember the time he knocked a troll out by levitating its club and dropping it on its head at the age of 11! What did Harry do? Shoved his wand in its nose and just angered it more?

But Ron still had more to say. She wondered how long he had been keeping all of this bottled up inside, and how much longer she would have to endure this without accidentally alerting him of her presence. It took her a moment to register what he was saying, but once she did, her mind was immediately bombarded by questions. What were people saying in the corridors about Ron, exactly? And how was she not aware of that? She didn’t think there were that many people besides Draco and his Slytherin bunch that said nasty things about them left and right. What was truly shocking was that they were talking about Ron. Harry wasn’t popular with everyone, what with his Boy-Who-Lived notoriety, but many people liked and admired him, even if it was simply for his status. And though she knew Ron tended to be treated as merely the sidekick, she still believed he was generally liked and regarded well. To hear that people in the school have been saying the complete opposite was mind-boggling. She suddenly had the urge to go around the school threatening to hex everyone that dared to speak of any degrading things about Ron.

Ron stopped talking. Hermione kept waiting for him to continue, or for Harry to finally say something. Instead, she heard Ron sigh and stand up, muttering something she couldn’t quite hear, before leaving in a hurry. Hermione wanted to get up immediately and follow him, but she just remained in place, as if binded, finally releasing the sobs she had been holding all this time. She let her head fall on her hands, as she continued to cry uncontrollably.

Eventually, she felt a hand touch her back, either Ginny’s or Harry’s, she couldn’t tell. They were saying something to her, but she wasn’t listening anymore.

She had to find Ron. They had to talk.

#ron weasley #hermione granger #harry potter #ginny weasley #angst #fanfiction #romione #romione fanfic #ron x hermione #multichapter #bjornthorsson20

20 notes · View notes

captainjanegay · 3 years

Text

someone holds me safe and warm | Stucky | Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergent, Timelines, 4+1 | 5.4k words | Ao3

Summary:

Four times Steve was sick or hurt and Bucky tried his best to care for him and one time the roles were reversed.

A short trip through Stucky timeline with loads of softness and care on the way.

A/N: It's here! My Secret Santa gift for the loveliest @snarky-drabbles ♥ I was so worried I won't be able to finish it and it turned out much longer than I wanted it to be but I really hope you'll like it :') I was so happy when I've heard you wanted some nice and soft sickfic and I hope I was able to provide you with exactly what you wanted ♥ I wish you the happiest holidays season, love! Despite the stressing, it was such a pleasure to write it for you ♥ Also big thanks for @metalbvcky for hosting this event, it was so much fun :’) And thank you my sweetest Luisa @its-tortle for giving it a read and being your incredible, supportive self :’)

1. December 9th, 1928

The snow has been falling all night. Bucky’s mum had to almost forcefully drag him away from the window, because Bucky couldn’t stop looking at the tiny snowflakes making layers over layers of fluff on the ground. If he could, he would stay up all night, just to make sure the snow won’t disappear before he wakes up. The only argument that eventually makes him go to sleep is the threat his mum makes, saying that he won’t get to go out with Steve tomorrow if he doesn’t make it to bed in the next 20 minutes. He makes it in 15.

When his mom finally lets him go to the Rogers’ house the next day, it’s well past 11 o’clock. Luckily, the snow is still there and Bucky’s pretty sure there’s more of it than he remembered. On one hand he wants to take the longer route so he can spend more time kicking it up in white, fluffy clouds, jumping into snowdrifts or making snowballs. He doesn’t throw them at anyone, his mum raised him better than that, just drops them back onto the ground. The most fun was in creating a perfectly round ball anyway. But on the other hand, he wants to get to Steve’s house as soon as possible, so they can go out and do all of those things together. Eventually, he decides to take the shortest route possible but he kicks the snow around even more to make up for it.

Ten minutes later he runs up the stairs of the old tenement house and knocks on the door. Two slow and three rapid taps, as always. Bucky bounces on the balls of his feet, waiting for Steve to run to the door to let him in, as always.

But this time it’s not Steve who opens the door. It’s Mrs. Rogers, her face pale and with dark circles under her eyes. But as soon as she sees Bucky a big, genuine smile brightens up her face. It’s the exact same smile Bucky has seen on his friend many times.

“Good morning, James,” she says. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Good morning and likewise, Mrs. Rogers,” Bucky grins, taking off his cap. “Is Steve here? It’s been snowing all night and I was hoping we could go play outside!”

Mrs. Rogers sighs, her smile getting a bit sad. Bucky senses that something’s wrong, and his excitement melts like the snowflakes he tried to catch on his tongue.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Mrs. Rogers says. “Steve’s sick. He won’t be able to go outside for a while. I guess you’ll have to face all this snow by yourself today.”

Bucky's face falls upon hearing that. He was really excited for today and he spent long minutes before he fell asleep last night thinking about all the fun he and Steve could have. But Steve’s sick and the idea of doing all of them alone doesn’t sound fun at all. So instead of saying goodbye and heading home, Bucky looks at Mrs. Rogers with hopeful eyes and asks, “Would you mind if I came in and stayed with Steve for a while?”

The warm smile is back on Steve mother's face as she ruffles Bucky’s hair in an affectionate gesture and steps to the side, letting him in. “Of course, I don’t mind. Steve will be so happy you’re here.”

Bucky quickly shrugs off his coat and kicks off his shoes. Just as quickly, he apologises for all the snow he’s brought inside and picks up his shoes to put them on the rag by the door. Mrs. Rogers only waves a hand at him. Instead of running straight to Steve’s room, Bucky follows Mrs. Rogers to the kitchen when she asks for some help. Tongue sticking out in concentration, Bucky takes a careful hold of the bowl of hot chicken soup and slowly walks after Mrs. Rogers who is carrying an armful of meds and a glass of water.

As soon as they enter the other room, a small, blond head peeks out from under a mountain of blankets. As soon as it notices Bucky, a smile splits its face.

“Bucky!” Steve says, his voice all raspy and weird.

Bucky only grins in response, sending a quick look Steve’s way before he focuses back on the bowl in his hands. Only when it’s safely set aside on the bedside table, Bucky jumps towards the bed. Mrs. Rogers stops him when he tries to give Steve a hug, saying he might get sick, too, so it’s better if he keeps a bit of distance.

Steve's smile falters. He tries to convince Bucky that he should go so he won’t catch anything from him. In response, Bucky calls him a dimwit and drops onto the floor next to the bed.

Mrs. Rogers checks Steve’s temperature, rubs his back with something with a very strong smell and gives him some medication. Steve looks miserable and a bit embarrassed through all of it. Seeing his friend’s discomfort, Bucky tactfully looks away and starts babbling about the snow, about mean Mr. Flanagan slipping on the icy pavement in front of his house today and falling onto his butt while shouting obscenities. He tells Steve how pretty the park looks with trees and bushes all covered in snow. He asks if Steve would be able to draw them if Bucky describes it to him with all the details he can remember. When he glances up at his friend, Steve’s eyes are finally bright and happy again, and he’s really excited to try.

Mrs. Rogers leaves a few minutes later, dropping a kiss to Steve’s head and ruffling Bucky’s hair before she walks out of the room. Steve adjusts his pillows so he can sit more upright and takes a small sketchbook from the bedside table. Bucky rests his folded arms on Steve’s bed and places his chin on top of them. As soon as he starts talking about the snowy park, Steve starts drawing. It looks just like the real thing. Soon enough, Bucky starts making up details, at first some believable ones but then he comes up with more and more ridiculous things. Giggling, Steve dutifully puts them on paper. It’s really nice, knowing that Bucky managed to make his best friend laugh despite the misery and terrible cough that escapes his mouth every so often.

The snow might be nice but there’s still plenty of winter left, so Bucky’s sure he and Steve will have a chance to play outside soon. Bucky is more than happy to sit by Steve’s side if it means he can save him from boredom this way.

Besides, their version of the snowy park is so much better than the real thing.

2. December 14th, 1936

It’s cold. The old stove is not giving as much heat as it’s supposed to. They’re slowly running out of things to keep the fire running and Bucky should probably check if there are any old wooden crates or something he could take from the docks tomorrow. It’s not freezing yet, but the nights are supposed to get even colder. He has to do something. The coughing fit from the other side of the room makes Bucky take another log from the quickly disappearing pile in the corner, before he goes back to stirring the soup.

He didn’t make it, just heating up a portion of what his mom gave him when he came by for a quick visit earlier today. It’s better than anything he could make, but it’s not as good as Mrs. Rogers’. God, there’s no way anyone could compete with her in terms of cooking or baking. Bucky was pretty sure her chicken soup had some actual healing powers, considering how quickly it was able to get Steve back on his feet.

It’s easier to think about Mrs. Rogers' soups and their magical properties than the fact that each time Steve gets sick, it seems to be worse than the last time. Thinking about that won’t do anyone any good. And Bucky would rather swallow a log than let Steve see how worried he gets sometimes.

So he stirs the soup extra vigorously before pouring it into a bowl when it gets nice and hot. It’s filled to the brim, so Bucky furrows his brows in concentration as he slowly makes his way across the room.

When he’s halfway there, he hears a laugh from the pile of blankets on the bed. It’s a bit wheezy but it’s a laugh nonetheless. When he looks up, Steve is already looking back at him with a soft smile on his face.

“What?” Bucky asks defensively, feeling flustered all of sudden.

“Nothing,” Steve says. He looks tired and pale but his lips stretch in an even bigger smile. “When you’re concentrating on something, you still stick your tongue out. Just like when you were a kid.”

“Oh fuck off, Rogers,” Bucky mumbles, placing the bowl on a stool that serves as a makeshift bedside table. “You’re not getting any of the soup for being an asshole.”

“How am I an asshole?” Steve asks. “I just think it’s cute that you still do that.”

Feeling that his blush is only getting worse, Bucky turns around and pretends to be very busy putting away the food from his mom. After taking a deep breath, he gets a grip on himself and walks back towards Steve.

As he approaches, Steve tries to slowly pull himself up into a sitting position, his arms shaking with effort. When Bucky reaches out to help him, Steve sends him a warning look so fierce that Bucky just raises his hands in surrender and backs away. He sits on the chair by the small table, stacked with books, old newspapers, letters, some of Steve’s sketches and who knows what else. While Steve eats, Bucky tries to tidy it all up, putting it all into nice piles and filling the quiet with mindless chatter. He tells Steve about the new Christmas tree they’ve put up at the docks, and about Becca’s new guy who seems decent enough to get Bucky’s approval of going out with his sister. Every once in a while, he throws Steve a quick glance. He tries not to sigh at the sight of Steve’s shaking hands or at the fact that he needs to take a little break every few sips as if even eating tired him out. Bucky doesn’t offer help, no matter how much he wants to. Steve would probably strangle him with his bare hands if he did, even in his current weakened state.

So Bucky doesn’t say anything about that, just keeps babbling nonsense, getting an occasional hum or a chuckle out of Steve. After a few more minutes, Steve buries himself back under the blankets.

“It’s very tasty but I’m full,” he says. “Give your mom my thanks when you next see her.”

“How do you know I didn’t make it?” Bucky asks in mock offense, putting away the leftover soup. “You were asleep for most of the day so you can’t be sure.”

“You’re a decent cook, Buck. But that’s way out of your league. You’ve reheated it like a champ, though!”

Bucky narrows his eyes at him and shakes his head. “You’re such a punk, Rogers. Now scoot over - for such a small person, you’re taking an awful amount of space. I’m cold and you have all the blankets.”

They both know it’s just a guise. There’s a perfectly good cover on Bucky’s bed on the other side of the room. Steve doesn’t protest though, just move forward a bit, leaving space for Bucky to slide between him and the wall. As soon as Bucky’s settled, Steve’s body goes lax next to him and he presses his back closer to Bucky’s chest. Automatically, Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s middle. He rests his head on top of Steve’s, the soft fair hair tickles his cheek. Soon enough Steve’s breathing evens out. Bucky closes his eyes, but it takes him a bit longer to drift away, as he anxiously listens to all the hitches and rumbles in Steve’s breathing. At some point, still deep in his sleep, Steve in his sleep wraps his long, delicate fingers around Bucky’s wrist. The touch soothing enough to let Bucky calm down and allow the sleepiness to finally take him.

As long as he holds Steve close to his chest, nothing bad can happen.

3. December 20th, 1938

There are blood stains on Steve’s white shirt. Some around his collar and some on his cuffs, which means that he managed to pack a punch or two before he got beaten up by whomever he started a fight with this time.

Bucky’s lips are set in a thin line as he tries to get a better look on Steve’s face to assess his injuries. Which wasn’t that easy considering that Steve is currently looking anywhere but at him.

“Oh, for God’s sake, can you just—,” Bucky says angrily, gripping Steve’s chin and turning his face up. He might be furious that Steve has gotten into another fight, but his grip is gentle. The last thing he wants is to cause Steve more pain. But God knows how badly he wants to punch that reckless punk himself, sometimes.

Steve jaw is set and at first, he looks like he wants to free himself from Bucky’s grasp. Changing his mind, his eyes gaze right into Bucky’s, a challenging expression on his face. Bucky would laugh if it wasn’t for the state of said face.

The blood is most certainly coming from Steve’s split lip. Or maybe it’s from the deep cut on his left cheekbone, surrounded by a darkening bruise. There’s some dried blood under his nose, too. He doesn’t have a black eye this time, so that’s good. Although by the way Steve flinched when squaring his shoulders to look up Bucky thinks it’s a safe bet he got punched or kicked in the ribs. Bucky prays none of his fragile bones are broken.

The anger he felt dissipates, at least a bit. What’s left is worry — which Bucky tries to hide, knowing that Steve would just get annoyed at that – and affection. He stopped trying to hide the latter ages ago.

“Who was it this time?” Bucky sighs, absentmindedly swiping his thumb across Steve jaw, careful not to put pressure on any of the bruises.

“Some asshole, as always. He was shouting obscenities at a girl who didn’t want to go dancing with him or something and he tried to follow her home,” Steve says with a shrug, followed by a wince.

Bucky can’t stop another sigh that escapes his mouth. He really wishes the world would be a better place. A place where people weren’t harassed for no reason, so Steve didn’t feel obligated to help them. Damn Steve Rogers and all his righteous anger and his heart of gold.

“Sit down. I’ll clean you up, punk.” Bucky puts his hand down and takes a step back. When he sees that Steve opens his mouth — to protest, most likely — Bucky points a finger at him. “Don’t argue with me. I will kick your ass. Don’t think I won’t.”

Steve rolls his eyes but there’s a hint of smile tugging at his lips before he turns around and walks toward the bed. Bucky goes to get something to clean up Steve’s cuts.

“I can do it myself,” Steve says when Bucky’s back, reaching out for the wet cloth Bucky brought.

“Oh, I know you can. Just let me be useful since you’ve stolen all the glory, being a hero who saves ladies in distress and all,” Bucky responds, taking a gentle hold of Steve’s chin again.

“If getting beaten up and kicked like a dog is glorious, then yes, I guess I have. You’d be more of a help than I was, if you were there.” Steve’s smile is full of irony as he tries to look away but Bucky’s hand keeps him in place.

Bucky drops the hand that was gently wiping at the cuts on his face and waits. Eventually, Steve’s eyes land on him, probably wondering why Bucky stopped.

“You are worth dozens of men, Stevie. Dozens of me. You’re half my size but you saved so many people already. You’ve stopped that asshole from doing who knows what to this girl and gave her time to get home safely,” Bucky says, his voice steady and sure and his eyes never leaving Steve’s, no matter how Steve wants them to. “You always know the right thing to do, and I swear your heart is made of pure gold. If that’s not glorious, I don’t know what is. You’re incredible, Stevie and help me God, I’ll beat the shit out of you if you keep putting yourself down like this.”

Steve chuckles at the last part and opens his mouth as if to respond but closes it a second later. The smile he gives Bucky is shy and soft. Bucky’s heart aches to just lean down and close the remaining space between them. Instead, he lets go of Steve’s cheek and goes to wet the cloth again. It’s not necessary, but he needs to take a grip on himself before he does something stupid.

A few moments later all the blood is cleaned from Steve’s face, his nose turns out not to be broken this time and most of his cuts have mostly stopped bleeding. Bucky counts that as a win.

“Take your shirt off,” Bucky says, trying not to blush. “Gotta make sure your ribs are in one piece.”

“Just admit you want to get me naked,” Steve replies without missing a beat. When the words leave his mouth, his eyes widen in shock, as if he wasn’t expecting to say them out loud. “I mean— I didn’t—,” he stammers.

Seeing how the blush colours Steve’s cheeks, still visible despite the bruising, and travels down Steve’s neck and past the collar of his blood-stained shirt, Bucky admits to himself that he is not as strong-willed as he liked to think. Sliding his hand down, Bucky traces Steve’s delicate collarbone with his thumb.

“To be honest, I’d prefer to do that for purposes other than checking if your ribs are intact,” he hopes he sounds nonchalant, but he can feel his cheeks are heating up.

“Oh really?” Steve asks, cocking an eyebrow up. The challenging look is back, and Bucky is going to lose his mind if Steve doesn’t stop looking at him like that. All cocky and sure of himself, like his face is not beet-red at the moment.

Bucky clears his throat and picks up the cloth. “I guess we have to wait until your cuts and bruises are healed and check.”

Steve laughs, gripping a handful of Bucky’s shirt and tugging him lightly. “Can you— Just come here, you jerk. I’d get up but it really hurts, I think you should kiss it better.”

And Bucky does. He kisses Steve’s split lip and then very gently swipes his mouth across Steve’s cheekbone and jaw to go back to his lips a moment later. A giddy laugh escapes his mouth and he thinks that there’s no other thing he’d be doing. He is not naïve enough to believe Steve will stop coming home with bruises of all sorts, but Bucky will always be there to kiss them better.

4. December 1st, 2024

The room is quiet. Or relatively so, considering that Brooklyn rarely gets completely silent, even at night. But it’s quiet enough for Bucky to hear the change in Steve’s breathing, where he lays asleep next to him. He opens his eyes and turns around. Soon enough, Steve starts tossing and turning, his breathing becomes more erratic. All those sleepless nights, spent on anxiously waiting for Steve’s next breath, praying the next one would come are flooding Bucky’s memory. He’s not sure if it’s better now. Steve might not be physically fighting for his life now, but the night terrors that haunt him, certainly make him feel like he does.

Carefully not to startle Steve, Bucky places his flesh hand on his arm. He squeezes lightly and whispers Steve’s name. When it doesn’t help, he tightens his grip for a moment and speaks a bit louder. Steve breathing hitches and he goes still for a moment. But then a strangled cry escapes his lips and he tosses hard enough that it wakes him up. Immediately, he sits upright almost knocking Bucky down in the process and he pants heavily, looking around the room with wide, terrified eyes.

"Steve," Bucky says, trying to keep his voice calm. "It's OK. You're OK. We're in Brooklyn. It's 2024. You're safe, we're safe. Everything's fine, Stevie."

It's like a mantra that Bucky keeps repeating until Steve is able to take full, big breaths again. When he finally turns his head to look at Bucky, he looks scared and lost and it breaks Bucky's heart into pieces. Bringing his hands up, Bucky wants to stroke Steve's cheek in a comforting gesture. But before he has a chance to do that, a grimace crosses Steve's face and he quickly gets out of bed and rushes towards the bathroom. Bucky sighs at the sounds of retching he hears a moment later. He gets out of bed and follows Steve. With a voice no louder than a whisper, he repeats over and over those little affirmations he knows Steve needs to hear and believe anew as he gently rubs his back.

It doesn't take long for Steve to calm down, but Bucky would gladly sit there all night if needed. Soon enough the dry-heaving stops and only a tiny sob comes out of Steve's mouth. Bucky helps him to brush his teeth, since his hands are shaking so much it makes it impossible to get the toothpaste out.

After that, Bucky tangles their fingers together and walks out of the bathroom. Instead of going back to bed back to bed, he leads them to the kitchen. He turns on the small lamp by the couch as they pass it,mostly for comfort, since with their respective shares of the serum, navigating in the darkness is not much of a problem for them. The dim light softens the dark edges of the living room and open kitchen space.

Bucky puts the kettle on, his hand not leaving Steve's for a second. He smiles — a bit sadly — as Steve comes closer, and plasters himself to Bucky's back, wrapping his arms tightly around him.

Steve hides his face in the crook of Bucky's neck, right palm coming up to lay flat on Bucky's chest, right over his heart. Bucky takes slow, deliberate breaths, knowing that his calm will help Steve. So without a word, he lets Steve see and hear and feel that they're both alive and safe. That whatever haunted him in his nightmare is not real. At least not anymore.

Bucky brings Steve's left hand, the one he's still holding, up to his lips and places a kiss after kiss on each of his knuckles. More reassurances are whispered right into Steve's warm skin.

It's hard to tell how long they stay like this. The water starts boiling and the electric kettle turns itself off at some point but none of them as much as flinch at the sound. It could be hours and it could be mere minutes before Steve's muscles relax and his breathing finally steadies. While he doesn't let go of Bucky, he doesn't cling to him like a lifeboat anymore.

Slowly, Bucky turns around in Steve's arms. His hands gently cup his face and he rests his forehead against Steve's.

"You're here," Steve says. The statement is just a shaky whisper and Bucky's not sure what to make of it, but he gives a small nod.

"I am. And I'm not going anywhere,"

"It's—," Steve starts, and then swallows. "You were— I thought—"

Leaning away just the slightest bit so he can look at Steve's face, Bucky shakes his head. "Shhh, Steve. It doesn't matter. It wasn't real. Don't torture yourself, love. We can talk about it in the morning if you want to, yeah?"

After a second, Steve gives a small nod. Even though the unease still hides in his eyes, he tries to muster a smile as he shifts his head and presses a kiss to the inside of Bucky's palm.

"Now, I'm going to make you a cup of tea because as Mrs. Rogers used to say—," Bucky says.

" 'A cup of Earl Grey always does more good than harm'" Steve finishes and closes his eyes but the smile grows a tad bigger.

"Bless her Irish soul," Bucky says with a smile of his own. "So I'm gonna make some and then we'll go back to bed. Or cuddle on the couch, or take a walk or whatever you want to do, OK?"

Steve looks up at him, his hand stroking lightly across Bucky's cheekbone. "I love you, Buck. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"And you'll never have to know. I'm not going anywhere, my love. I'll be right by your side for the end of time because that's where I belong. And we've proven enough times that there's not a damn thing that could change that.”

5. December 5th, 2025

Bucky was never the one to get sick. When he was a kid he had a bad cold maybe once or twice but it was all forgotten within a week or two. Which is pretty surprising, considering that he was hanging with Steve all the time but never managed to catch anything from him. Later, he has gotten the serum so getting sick stopped being a real issue for him.

So why does his throat feel all scratchy, his nose is too stuffy for him to take a single breath and he feels both hot and cold at the same time?

It's because the world hates him, that's why. There's also a teeny tiny chance that it has something to do with his and Steve's last mission.

They were trailing someone who aspired to create a biological weapon, as one does. It wasn't hard to locate this mad scientist's secret lair or to capture him. Overall it was a pretty simple mission and it was going really smooth. At least until they were to extract the highly reactive bio-bomb that — quite literally — blew up in Bucky's face. It was good he was alone in the room when that happened because as the Avengers-issued doctor has later told him, the substances implicit in the bomb would be lethal to regular people in the dose that attacked Bucky. But to someone enhanced the worst case scenario would mean a heavy case of flu that the organism would be able to fight, eventually.

So, of course, the worst case scenario is exactly what is happening now. Every single muscle in Bucky's body is aching, including the ones he wasn’t even aware existed. The sheets are drenched with sweat and he's still shaking under his layers of covers.

"Steve?" he calls miserably. His voice feels like sandpaper in his dry throat.

Not even a second passes before he hears footsteps and Steve enters the room.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks. There's a worried wrinkle between his brows.

Instead of answering Bucky let's out a little whine and pouts, looking up at Steve from where he's buried under the covers so only the upper half of his face is visible.

And what Steve does? The fucker laughs at him.

"Aren't you supposed to be taking a nap?" Steve asks, looking amused.

"I can't sleep," Bucky rasps out. "I'm uncomfortable and everything hurts and can I just die already?"

Steve laughs. Again. Really, Bucky can't fathom where people got the idea that Steve Rogers is all polite, nice and righteous all the time. He's the biggest asshole Bucky ever knew.

"I figured you'd be dramatic when sick, but I didn't expect that," Steve says as he sits on the side of the bed. He reaches out with his hand and places it on Bucky's shoulder. It's pleasantly cool against his skin and Bucky closed his eyes and sighs.

"You're a dick," he mumbles. "Absolutely no compassion for the weak and hurting, I don't know how you can live like this."

As Bucky says that, Steve leans over and peppers his face — or at least the part not covered by the duvet — with little kisses. It's nice but Bucky's point still stands. Steve's a monster.

"You need anything?" Steve asks, gently stroking Bucky's hair.

"Yes." When Steve makes a questioning sound, Bucky continues, "the sweet relief of death, please."

Steve sighs heavily but when Bucky opens his eyes and looks at him, his face is both amused and fond.

“I’m gonna make you some tea and soup, how about that?”

“Huh, so you are going to kill me?” Bucky raises an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t go for poisoning but if that’s—”

Not letting him finish, Steve just gets up and leaves the room. Bucky tries calling after him but he doesn’t get any response and he has a coughing fit after raising his voice, so he gives up.

This time Bucky might have actually fallen asleep. He’s not shaking as much so he figures the fever must’ve gone down a bit but now his head is throbbing so he’s really not sure which option he preferred. When he confusedly looks around the room, his eyes land on Steve. He’s back, sitting on the bed by Bucky’s side.

Did Steve wake him up? Now that Bucky thinks about it, he vaguely remembers someone shaking his arm. His point about Steve being a monster still stands.

“Why d’you wake me up?” Bucky whines. “You said I need sleep and now you won’t even give me fifteen minutes.”

“You’ve slept for over two hours, love,” Steve points out, his hand on Bucky’s cheek. “I’m only waking you up cause you’ve barely eaten today and I’ve made some soup.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at Steve. He looks at the clock on the bedside table, but since he has no idea what hour it was when he last talked to Steve, it’s pretty useless. He’s not really hungry, but he figures it’s a reasonable thing to do. So, with a loud groan, he pulls himself up into a sitting position. The monster beside him chuckles at that but actually helps him arrange the pillows so Bucky can sit comfortably and places the small bed tray in his lap.

Despite what Bucky said earlier, the soup is good. Recipes are probably the only rules Steve knows how to follow so he’s a decent cook and knows his way around the kitchen if needed. Bucky gladly eats the whole bowl, enjoying the way it soothes his sore throat.

When he’s done, he thanks Steve, who takes away the bed tray and gets up, probably to take it to the kitchen. Before he can get up, Bucky grabs his hand.

“Stay with me for a bit?” he asks.

Steve’s face softens. He puts the tray down on the floor and gets in bed, lying on top of the covers next to Bucky. Soon enough Bucky is tucked safely into Steve’s arms and under his chin and he lets out a content sigh.

“You’re feeling any better, sweetheart?” Steve asks.

“I don’t know, I’m so miserable and tired all the time. I hate it so much,” Bucky whines. “Is that what you’ve been going through every time?”

“Mostly. I guess I was too used to this to complain much.”

“And too stubborn. You’ve never let other people see how bad it was,” Bucky points out.

“That, too,” Steve chuckles, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “You always were able to make it easier, though.”

Bucky smiles, tucking his face further into Steve’s chest. He feels sleepy again but this time the warmth he feels is not caused by the fever. He mumbles into Steve’s shirt, not sure if the words his brain is trying to communicate are the same ones that his mouth says out loud. But judging by the way Steve’s arms tighten around him and by the “I love you, too” whispered into his hair, Bucky thinks they are.

#stuckygiftexchange2020 #stucky fic #stevebucky fic #stucky fanfiction #stevebucky fanfiction #stucky #stevebucky #my writings #i hope you like it! ♥#it was so fun to write #stressful but fun :')

47 notes · View notes

candychronicles · 4 years

Text

stuck with me // h. nejire

A/N: My take on the bnharem summer collab! Decided to write for sweet baby Nejire, as she doesn’t get enough love!

CHARACTER PAIRING: Nejire Hado x Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,724

WARNINGS: sweet baby fluff

SYNOPSIS: A girls day out leads to so much more!

Want to read more summertime fun? Click here !

the soft sunlight dappled over the crystal clear water, creating a dance of sparkles. a soft swooshing sound was all that could be heard as you helped paddle the little wooden boat over the serene lake. for once, Nejire Hado was quiet, serene almost, as she sat across from you, hands folded in her lap and head turned to the side to watch the scenery slowly float by.

the day hadn’t started off calm. in fact, it started off in typical Nejire fashion: happy chaos.

“wake up sleepy head! we’ve got a whole day of fun, so i can’t have you being lazy on me!”

you harshly blinked, snapped back into reality by the loud sounds of your best friend, before smiling at her, continuing to walk, but this time, with an extra pep in your step.

your first stop was shopping, of course. no real girls day could occur without trying on various clothes, binging on greasy mall food and giggling at all the funny gadgets you found throughout the day.

“come on, lets go in here! we’ll need some new bathing suits for the beach today!”

you had insisted that what you were wearing was fine, but she would not listen, dragging you along despite your protests. it was only when you were shoved into a changing room with a simple black two piece that your heart started racing.

you emerged from the cubicle a few minutes later, head hung low as you looked into the mirror, pinching and prodding at your body, trying to make the bathing suit look good on you. however, when you had almost given up and resigned to going back, Nejire emerged, smiling from ear to ear.

“what are you frowning about?” she chided, strutting over to you with purpose, “you look amazing. i’m jealous! here, let’s take some selfies. i need to show off my hot best friend!”

though the words, you thought, were just meant to cheer you up as a friend, a rosy blush found its way to your cheeks nonetheless as you allowed yourself to imagine Nejire truly finding you attractive. after that little incident, you decided to buy the bikini, spurred on by the simple words she spoke.

the next stop of the day, after dropping off your bags at your house, was to find somewhere to actually eat, instead of continuing to binge on greasy fast foods. you had decided on your favorite cafe, a place where you two often went to unwind after a stressful day at school, or work as you got older.

when you had arrived, Nejire shooed you to find a table, insisting on paying for the food. she knew your order by heart, and though it shouldn’t of made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, you couldn’t help it. she knew every little thing about you, big or small, and you felt so utterly bare around her, yet safer than anywhere else.

your friendship started off odd. you weren’t a particularly popular student, tending to hangout with the same small group of friends, but you weren’t necessarily shy either. after an impressive fight at your first year sports festival, Nejire had approached you with awe, insisting that you become friends so that you could learn from each other. at the time, you weren’t sure of her upbeat, forward personality, so you said yes automatically, just trying to process what had happened.

for awhile, you had assumed that the little interaction would lead to nowhere, but Nejire proved you wrong time and time again, bothering you for help with homework, gossiping about others in your class, making you help her with beauty pageants and campaigns, all which led to late nights at your little cafe together.

you were once again brought back to the present when Nejire delicately placed the food and drink down on the table, balancing it all with grace and years of practice. you two dug in, chatting about everything and nothing, falling into your old routine of just being together. there was never a time where you two didn’t feel comfortable with one another, and only continued to get closer as the days went on.

after a long chat in the cafe, Nejire insisted on a walk in the park, wanting to stretch and enjoy the sunshine after all the food you two had consumed. the walk on the way there was filled with the same mindless chatter as before, her mouth moving before her brain could process the words half the time, but you constantly found that endearing.

a loud scream came from your right, and without thinking, you jumped, grabbing her hand and squeezing tightly, before letting out a laugh when you realized it was just an angry kid.

“don’t worry, i’ll protect you (y/n)!”

she let out a little giggle at your irate expression, before tugging you along, never letting go of your hand, even when you were all alone on the park path. your heart threatened to leap out of your chest, but you maintained your cool, laughing and babbling nonsense back and forth, making jokes, pointing out pretty cloud formations and cooing at the cute ducks at the edge of the pond.

when Nejire had spotted little rowboats for rent, you knew it was all over. she would not take no for an answer, and you’d be going for a long and chatty boat ride whether you wanted to or not.

things didn’t turn out quite as planned though. the boat ride started off with you two arguing over who was going to push, you winning the argument as you picked up the paddles and gently propelled yourselves off the shore of the lake. you had attempted a few jokes, but Nejire was unusually silent, watching the small ripples created from the boat splitting the water.

you were about to open your mouth to ask her what was wrong, setting down the paddles, when she spoke up, voice quiet and gentle.

“we’re best friends yeah? and nothing’s going to happen to change that, right? even though we’re busy being heroes, even though things are dangerous sometimes, you’re not going to leave my side?”

“no matter what happens Nejire, i will always be by your side,” you reassured automatically, reaching forward to grab her hands in your own.

“even if i do this?”

before you had a chance to ask her what she was talking about, she leaned forward, pressing her lips against yours in a gentle embrace, squeezing your hands. your body froze for only a second before you reacted, moving against her in tandem, taking your hands out of hers and placing one on the side of her face, the other cupping the back of her head to deepen the kiss.

you pulled away, breathless. your eyes searched her own, wide and unsure, but full of so much love.

“oh my gosh, i’m so sorry! that was so random, huh? i was just admiring the view and then realized nothing here was as pretty as you and just wanted to kiss you, so i did!” she admitted, wringing her hands together, the only telltale sign that she was worried.

you took only a few moments before replying, “i didn’t mind. i-i liked it actually, a lot.”

that peachy blush you had been trying so hard to avoid all day came back in full force, creeping up your neck and into your cheeks, setting your face aflame.

“really? oh that’s so great. i’ve liked you for so long but i didn’t know if you felt the same. i just wanted to make sure that you’d still be friends with me even if you didn’t feel the same way, but now that i know that you like me back, i’d like to be more than that, if you want? like, be my girlfriend?” she babbled out, talking animatedly with her hands.

you were only able to nod in response, a smile slowly creeping on your face as she continued to talk, so enamored by every movement and every syllable that left her mouth.

“i’d love to be your girlfriend Hado. more than anything,” you admitted, smile threatening to split your face with how wide it was.

she responded by leaning forward to kiss you again, but just as your lips were about to connect, the boat rocked dangerously from her surging forward, and as she grabbed you to stabilize herself, she fell into the water, tipping the boat and pulling you down with her.

when you both resurfaced, thoroughly soaked, your laughter pealed out of your mouth before you had a chance to even process what had just happened. she joined you swimming over to hug you from the side, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek.

after a few minutes, you two managed to flip the boat and climb back in, using your one single paddle that didn’t disappear to float back to the shore, apologizing and bowing deeply to the annoyed gentleman who rented the boat to you.

with smiles on your face and giggles under your breath, you two collected your belongings, stripped out of your wet clothes into your bikinis and made your way to the beach, setting up a large blanket and laid down, bodies side by side.

as the creamy yellow yolk slowly slid down the sky, streaked with lilacs and blushy hues, you watched Nejire, admiring the way her face glowed in the dewy sinking light. she turned to you, eyes sparkling with love and something you couldn’t quite place, but before you had a chance to decipher what it was, her lips were on yours, successfully getting you to close your eyes and relax into her touch.

she pulled away with a satisfying pop, her blue hair silky in your hand as you absentmindedly ran your fingers through it.

“you’re stuck with me forever, yeah?” she asked, and you had finally realized what her eyes were trying to tell you earlier.

“yeah, and you’re stuck with me. hope you don’t get annoyed,” you teased, booping her nose with the tip of your finger.

she returned your gesture with a giggle, before laying back down.

as you continued to watch the sun sink into the night, you realized that this sight would never compare to her, your own personal sunset.

Taglist: @jojosmilktea @redbeanteax @softforshigi @katsuki-bakugous-lady @ttamaki @secondhand-trash @freiyalight @crystal-lilac

Want to be a part of my taglist? Message me!

#nejire hado #nejire hado x reader #nejire hado imagine #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #bnharem collab

164 notes · View notes