#The silliest ever i want to squeeze them so hard | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

remyfire · 5 months

Note

Fic ask meme!! A, L, and/or Q <3

Fanfic Ask Meme A: How did you come up with the title to [insert fic]?

Ahh, Rosie, you didn't give me a specific fic title, so I'll go general!! —54% are song lyrics —6% are prompt-based —40% are completely random, just what came to mind when I considered the content of the fic

I go for song lyrics more frequently nowadays but I also do not have as modern or expansive of a music library as much, so I do a lot of repeats of the same songs!! I'd love to start using poetry as well, but I still am having trouble digesting poetry with my focus disorder. Work in progress.

L: What’s the weirdest AU you’ve ever come up with?

I still think traphawkahy seminary incubus AU—with or without the optional addition of B-girl content—is probably the silliest possible title at this point. Notably I am not responsible for all of it—shout out to @hesgomorrah—but I'm very fond of it so I am putting at least a wee bit of claim on it.

Q: Do you have any discarded scenes/storylines/projects?

I have the very very very bad habit of entirely deleting scenes that I edit out rather than saving them in another doc for possible later use, but I still have a few moments from Scratching The Itch kicking around. Multiple ones, so they're unedited under the cut for anyone curious.

When I was brainstorming how to get to the massage/sex scene in chapters 4 and 5, originally I had Hawkeye playing a little bolder and BJ meeting him competitively in the middle and overruling him. It ended up not working for my purposes, and I appreciate getting to go the more tender route with BJ especially. iirc correctly, this snippet was going to take place directly after Freddie's departure, with Hawk teasing BJ about how hard he is and how he's refusing to go take care of it. But you can see the thread that I carried over into the actual shower chapter itself.

"I've done without for this long," BJ drawls, lips quirked in that hint of a smile that teases what California sunshine must look like. "I can last a little more."

"But why bother?" Hawkeye tucks one finger in BJ's belt loop, just barely fitting between the smooth leather and the rough fabric, and gives him a tug. "We don't want a Sunday pot roast, Beej. The longer you let that sit and stew, the more tender it's gonna get, and how's that fun for anyone?"

BJ puts his hand square in the middle of Hawkeye's bare chest and gives the gentlest nudge, and Hawkeye is so taken aback that he lets him, lets BJ walk him backward one step at a time. Those lips turn upward just a hint more as blue eyes sparkle down at him like the sea and the sky have swapped. "Because the first time that you make me come," BJ murmurs, "is going to be when I'm fucking you."

Hawk's eyes widen so far they feel like they might bulge out of his head. It's not the first time he's felt BJ's hand on his skin, but there's intentionality here beyond just pulling him to sit beside Beej on a bench when they're 8 straight hours into surgery, beyond the way BJ's fingers would find the slim gap between Hawkeye's shirt and pants while they stumbled laughing back from Rosie's.

Those beautiful fingers are a weight on him—but a grounding one.

The back of his knees hit the bed and he tips into sheets that still smell like sex and sweat, and suddenly he's desperate to know how BJ's pheromones are going to mix.

"That's what you want, isn't it?" BJ's voice is barely over a murmur. "You want to know what it feels like to be as full as you've made all those pretty girls your whole life." BJ lifts his eyebrows, wrinkles spreading across his forehead. "You want. To be. Fucked."

Finally the words creep in fully through the post-orgasmic haze, slithering around his brain, squeezing, ready to make a meal of him. His blood goes cold and leaves goosebumps along his entire body.

BJ is a prankster. He's as mercurial as the god that word is named for. He takes delight in teasing, needling, but never in a cruel way. Right? Has BJ ever been cruel to him—intentionally, sadistically, curving his wrist to make a bleeding gash in Hawkeye's heart? Suddenly he can't recall, can't be perfectly sure. Those glimmering eyes are waves crashing down to drown him.

"I-I..." Hawk fights to find the light he had in his chest only moments ago.

And these are assorted bits of dialogue that ended up not being used, originally used regarding Freddie and in the shower scene respectively.

"I think the war's aged me fucking fifty years. Jesus. You're gonna laugh, but I'm so tight, I think I almost pulled something just from fucking her."

"You're telling me this because if I ever said a word about you and Peg being open, you'd be able to take me down with you."

"I'd never take you down over anything, Hawk. But if that's what you need to believe, then go ahead."

This is the original ending of the R&R scene in chapter 6, right before the pivot back to camp. I wrote this before doing anything else with chapter 6, and then when I started from the beginning, I realized BJ had a lot more rage and grief regarding how his attempt to be domestic with Hawk (has BJ done this before with men? Has it worked? Is Hawkeye special?), so I couldn't use it, and again, I prefer how it ended up moving, even though it left a lot up in the air for me to play with when I circle back. (notably I had also forgotten I gave them three days of R&R, so I couldn't send them back that easily anyway when they still had a full day left to go hfdkd)

BJ clicks his tongue against his teeth. "You've been touching me this casually since I puked my guts up in front of you and nobody's said a word." When he glances over his shoulder, the flatness is gone. "Yeah. Of course it'd be casual. What else would it be?"

Hawkeye opens his mouth, shuts it again, and forces himself to think before he speaks. "I'm, uh, glad we're on the same page."

BJ chuckles and pats Hawk on the cheek just a little too firmly. "Can we head out before they leave without us?"

"Oh, sure, sure," Hawkeyes drawls. He goes to grab his own bag in turn. "I'm in such a hurry to get back. I wonder if they're serving liver or liver tonight in the mess tent."

"At this point, probably sewage soup."

Hawk laughs. "Perfect meal for denizens of a swamp."

#ahhh thank you for these friend #it was fun to dig up the old snippets that i knew i had somewhere #ask meme answers #my writing commentary #scratching the itch #some things are evergreen

4 notes · View notes

pineappleciders · 1 year

Note

father give me ur top 5 silliest guys

oh my god.

pineapples top 5 silliest guys. this is really difficult to rank them but i trued. i also have a bunch of silly girls but i could not fit them all in 5 so that would be a separate list

1. kel omori

the absolute autism this guy sparks within me is so extravagant that i would not be able to speak it in words. you may like kel but i like him in a far more autistic and special way than you ever will

2. kennymcormick

kenny mccormick from south park. he comes close second to kel he is so silly it's unimaginable. the guy. i like orange characters . i don't know how to explain my silliness for kenny he just radiates silly

3. sunny omori

sunny is a goofball i would like to beat his head in with a bat. i think the sheer silliness of sunny is underrated like he made that entire dream world in his head and his little quips as omori are so funny. also when he gets bonked with a ball by kel and turns sad . and when he catches it he gets happy. he also has beef with flies

4. stan marsh

i like stan not in the hes so relatable and angsty part but the goofball part. the part where he's the goofiest guy ever. the part where he goes 👍. he is goofy and i will stand by that.

5. eric cartman

this one was hard but probably fartman. he is so evil and evil and evil i want to squeeze him until he pops. he is quite silly, however. literal dickbag i love him

#autism posting #pineappleciders

7 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years

Note

Hi! 👋🏽 Could I request the Savanaclaw trio with a bubbly & childish S/O that tries their best to be “mature” or “tough” as a way to impress them? Or maybe show that they can be strong too. Thank you!

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Leona’s a mixture of relieved and amused. There are times when your bubbliness grates on him, so this is finally his break—plus, it comes with free entertainment. What’s there not to like? Besides, he’s way too lazy to protest.

... Well, Leona’s about to do the biggest backpedaling of his life. To begin with, you decide that in order to be mature, you need to help Leona be mature, too! That means being his human alarm clock to rouse him from sleep every day, making sure he gets to class on time, and getting him to pay attention in class and do his homework (which he’s not happy about). You also have him eat his veggies (which is he very not happy about).

Leona doesn’t just sit there and take it; he puts up a fight and makes a fuss, purposefully trying to get a reaction, to break that your facade. His methods range from verbal teasing to prodding and blowing in your ear at random. You’d normally tease him right back, but you bite your tongue and hold your ground instead, which just annoys him. It’s not as fun to toy with you if you take things so seriously.

You ask to join in on Magift Club practice despite concerns that you’ll get roughed up. You’re one of ‘the boys’, you insist! You’re grown up enough, you can handle it!! ... Before you inevitably get bashed and bruised from the collisions, and Leona has to drag you to the infirmary to get patched up.

His patience wears thin, and he confronts you. “Oi. How much longer are you going to keep this up for? It’s starting to piss me off. This isn’t you.” Upon hearing your reasoning, he scoffs. “You aren’t impressing anyone. Putting on airs to get in another’s good graces... Hmph. You aren’t some uppity royal. The only expectations you need to meet are your own. No one else’s.”

You bicker back and forth for a while on the topic—and by the time you realize that Leona’s smirk has been growing this entire time, it’s too late...! You’ve dropped your act and gone right back to your juvenile arguments with him. “There’s my herbivore,” Leona grins, mussing your hair with an aggressive hand. “A healthy dose of defiance is all the toughness you need.”

Ruggie just goes with the flow and has a healthy snicker or two watching you try to be the opposite of your usual self. He thinks it’s actually be beneficial for you to mature and toughen up a bit. You need to adapt to survive in this world, so sometimes putting up a front or a brave face is necessary.

Being mature means being smart about your schedule and your spendings. You find yourself sitting down and planning your days with Ruggie, down to the last second and madol—trying to make every last bit count!

Sometimes your efforts to be mature clash with Ruggie’s own interests. You might want him to keep his hands to himself, but maybe he’s more interested in pickpocketing or snatching some food in the moment. He takes your complaints in stride, never getting upset—only laughing at your sternness.

Ruggie pitches in to show you how to be street smart and pass off as tougher than you actually are. It’s best to keep to yourself, but still walk with a confident stride—and if trouble arrives, you need to be nimble on your feet to escape, or have clever enough bluffs to get out of it!

He thinks you trying to pull off that “tough” vibe is the most hilarious thing ever. (Challenging Ruggie to thumb wrestling isn’t exactly the pinnacle of ruggedness.) It’s hard for him to hide his smile or to keep his sides from splitting from laughing so hard. That pouty face you make afterwards isn’t very tough either, but Ruggie finds it adorable!

Ruggie reminds you have a giggle every now and again! It’s all well and good to take care of yourself, but you gotta remember to have fun, too! “Yup, I think I like you best when you’re smiling!” Ruggie chirps, using his fingers to guide your lips upward. “Even if you’re adulting more or toughening up, it’s nice to stop and blow the dandelions on the side of the road. C’mon, (Y/N), laugh with me!”

Jack finds it a bit odd that your personality did a 180 overnight (which he does point out to you), but he encourages certain efforts to be more “mature”, like being responsible with your work, showing humility in your abilities... and filing taxes. Better to get started developing those skills now rather than later.

He’s not as taken with your attempts to come across as “tough”. Jack just can’t take you seriously when you roll up your sleeve to flex your tiny biceps, or proclaim your strength to him. Perhaps your silliest approach was slapping bandaids (with cute, colorful patterns on them) on your body and claiming you got them from a fight.

He invites you to exercise with him to improve your muscles, but more often than not, you end up out of breath and wheezing early on. You insist you can keep going (since you’re sooo tough), only to get scolded by Jack.

“No good will come out of that. You’re just asking for a strained muscle,” he grunts, pressing a cold water bottle to your forehead to soothe you. “It’s fine to admit when you can’t do something.” (Well, that only makes you double down on your efforts.)

At some point, you pick a fight with a mob student, and get shoved to the ground—only for Jack to intervene, sending the mob scurrying off with a single glare. He draws the line at you purposefully putting yourself in danger to prove a point. Jack addresses your hypocrisy in a blunt tone. “Not understanding your limits, bragging about things you don’t have, trying to be something you’re not... That’s childish. And that’s okay.”

He reassures you that you don’t need to put on an act to impress him; he’s rather that you be happy as you are (and that you stay safe)! “You don’t need to be in a rush to grow up,” Jack reminds you, squeezing your hand in his. “I’ll mature with you—and I won’t be going anywhere.”

#twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #Leona Kingscholar #Leona Kingscholar x Reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #Ruggie Bucchi #Ruggie Bucchi x Reader #Jack Howl #Jack Howl x Reader #curiouser and curiouser #Reader #self insert #twisted wonderland requests #disney twisted wonderland #Savanaclaw

246 notes · View notes

iffylogic · 2 years

Photo

New year, new pfp! As though I weren’t struggling to make myself do this since October for self-help reasons

Trying as hard as I can to suppress the world’s most severe case of resting bitch face (complete with sinister eyebrows, it ain’t fair lol!) And of course a Carbuncle, since my old icons usually include it and IT NEEDS SQUEEZING ♥

It’s also kind of celebratory, because 2021 has been a really important year of my life. I open up quite a bit below the break, fair warning.

I’ve been depressed ever since I was ten. Over the years, it gradually got worse and worse and worse, until suicidal ideation and self-hatred became the background noise of every moment. Everything felt wrong, like I shouldn’t be here. Therapy and medications did little to help. I had cut off ties with my friends, not because I didn't enjoy company, but because why would they possibly want to be around me? By the time I started my little comic, I threw myself into it because it was the one and only thing distracting me from how endlessly miserable I felt.

(Thanks for the bummer Iffy OKAY SO ANYWAY 💦)

So I’ll skip the long version of this, but in May of this year, I found out that I’m transgender and buried in gender dysphoria. In fact, the symptoms were stacked so high that it reaaaaally shouldn’t have taken me so long to figure out.

It was extremely upsetting and confusing for a hot minute there, because I just didn’t know what to do about it. But, after support from my wonderful spectacular sister and some professional chats, I started transitioning in Summer.

(Coming out to my parents was wild. I came out to my mom first, who was very confused and had a million questions, but ultimately was fully supportive! Then I told my dad. No joke, he just gave a kind smirk and said, “I had a feeling.” My mom and I both dropped our jaws. XD)

Now I’m half a year into HRT, and making small changes, one at a time. But here’s the wild thing, and kind of the point of all this:

I’m not depressed anymore.

I thought that transitioning could be a huge relief, yes, but... that was actually... it. The crushing sadness and relentless self-hatred just... left me. And they never came back.

Maybe it’s that life-long dissociation with the person in the mirror. Slowly but surely, I’m starting to recognize the face looking back, for the first time since I was a kid, and... I don’t even know how to describe what that feels like.

This is going to be the silliest, cheesiest, sappiest, thing you’ll ever see me write, but I’m not kidding: I legitimately forgot what joy and hope felt like until these past months.

Friends who aren’t even aware of my changes have been positively remarking about how I seem like a completely different person. Even laughter comes so much more easily to me now?? Hell, one video made me double over laughing, and I was in sheer awe of how unbelievably good it felt. The simplest freaking thing. But I didn’t have it before.

I’d become fully socially phobic over the past decade, especially online. Even with mutuals, I’d respond little more than necessary because who would actually want to talk to me? But that’s starting to flip over, too. (It’s kind of morphing into fomo because of course it is. :P)

I’ve been hanging out and making more friends in town because I’m starting to look forward to being around people, which if you’d known me from even a year ago would sound like I’ve gone batshit insane.

Online, it isn’t as simple, since I have no idea what I’m doing hjsdfhjlgsdf. But yeah if I’ve seemed more chatty these past few months, that’s why. I’m reaching out in all directions and trying to make friends! :)

People look so different when “who’d ever want to talk to me” doesn’t constantly bounce around in your head anymore.

I still have problems, sure. But now I’m strong enough to confidently work on them. And I’m sure new problems will come up, considering everything. But that doesn’t bother me either because I’m facing them as myself, which I suppose I took for granted before.

Being depressed for most of your life, and then not being depressed, is unreal. Seriously it feels so different that it does not feel real.

Okay okay I’m done blathering. I’m just... beside myself about being able to feel happy again. I’m so grateful that my family believed what I was going through and have been nothing but supportive—seriously, just saying I believe you and I see you in there was everything for me—and it helped me break out from a state of mind that I just assumed was how my life would be forever. (had to stop typing just now to have a happy-sob hjklHfjkasdlhjfk) And the rest of my one short little life will be a lot brighter for it.

2022 is the first year that I’ve ever looked forward to.

I hope you’re looking forward to yours, too. ♥

#my art #Iffy rants and raves #very real talk #positivity #it's kind of a 'pour my heart out' post so #Happy New Year! 🎉💕✨🎇🎆

25 notes · View notes

pffbts · 3 years

Text

↬genre: slice of life; fluff ; crack; hint of a love triangle ; loads of tension.

↬characters: jealous!wen junhui x reader | support: kim mingyu (plays a big role)

↬w.c: 4K

↬author`s note: sorry for the delay but this is basically junhui making your knees weak or you just want to beat his ass. this fic can go two ways―it`s yours to decide. also this is a re-write because the last attempt wasn`t reaching my heart. so i`m writing this again :) hope you enjoy this read! (btw i would strongly suggest you to read mingyu`s version before you jump onto this)

↬synopsis: there are 13 boys who lives in your town where each of them have each of their own colours. some you know in person & some from afar so one day you sat down deciding to describe each of their colours absorbing all of their goodness and all of their flaws. you wondered what if someone in some other town ever thought of questioning when they looked at these boys, that―what if we lived in the same town?

[03:37 PM] [meet him at the dawn & he`ll take you to places you`ve never seen]

―standing opposite of the road, that day you saw him getting out of the newly opened chinese restaurant of the town. he was wearing a white shirt with two of the top buttons undone, the edges carelessly tucked in a freshly washed denim jeans to wind up with it. dashing as always, junhui had spared a listless glance at you and with his shoulders wide, he tucked his palms into both of his jean`s pockets.

you, on the other hand, didn`t smile at him but rather let your eyes widen a bit unconsciously. in split second, when you realized what had happened, you retreated back from keeping any kind of eye contact with him.

from the corner of your eyes, you could somehow make out that he was clearly smirking on his own. his little smirk was so palpable that it traverse through the air stirring up something in you along with the sudden heat splashing across your cheeks & neck. that feeling didn`t leave your body and waited a long time to fade until you finally reached back home.

you didn`t know much about junhui, as a matter of fact. surely you`ve seen him once in a while but that was it. you didn`t know what kind of person he was exactly apart from the fact that he was extremely beautiful. he was, if you weren`t mistaken, quite a silent heartthrob of the town.

he also, isn`t the type to talk much. that is to say, you have never seen him talk whenever you`ve spotted him on the street or anywhere in the local market. he didn`t study at your school and his place too, was far from your own so spotting him at your street wasn`t a regular thing until one fine day it happened out of nowhere.

you were out to go rent some dvd because the dvd player had been sitting under dust for a long time at your place. it was one of those day when iconic black and white movies which both you and your mother were equally fond of clenches you two in its tight hold so she gave you a little push to go grab some mutual favourites from the dvd rent shop down the street.

wearing a soft pink shorts and a white shirt typically bigger for your built, you walked out of your place to the dvd rent shop. swinging both of your arms on your side, you did a few little skips while walking. it was quite evident that you were in good spirit and why shouldn`t you be? a movie night and your mother was making your favourite dish tonight being the combo treat is not something of a regular thing in this household.

long after walking, you stood in front of the shop. keeping your eyes on the open sign, you push the door inside and soon you heard a peal of laughter already filling up the shop to the brim of it.

the laughter was as if it welcomed you to the shop but for some reason, you could recognize a single voice among the two.

you stop for a second, slowing down the motion of you closing the door and kept on listening to the laughters. in the slip of a quick second, you recognized it to be mingyu`s but you couldn`t see him right away.

whipping your head around, you tried detecting the direction from which it came until you heard a cough from the part-timer and the growing string of your attention rips right then.

bowing a bit to the part-timer who worked at the cash counter, you slowly walked through the shelves filled with all kind of dvds. your ears were perked up at the sound of giggles and laughter now a little bit on a lower note.

the part-timer probably sent the owner of those laughters a warning glance to maintain the silence.

you, on the other hand, still couldn`t find the movie you were looking for. walking listlessly, your eyes staring up and down the rows of shelves soon your back makes a sudden contact with something hard and warm.

for a moment you thought it would be mingyu and a lift at the corner of your mouth surfaces.

turning your neck around, you had to crane it up a bit to look at whom you stumbled upon considering in your head you thought it would be mingyu probably playing around with you and with his gigantic height your actions were sort of a reflex.

but as soon as you realized whom you stumbled onto, you quickly turned around and jumped three feet away from him.

“oh?”, with wide eyes junhui watches you jump back and then as he leans a bit by putting up one of his palm, he finally greets you, “hi.” the wide of his eyes cease within seconds replacing them into soft creases around the corners.

his voice carried an essence of mirth and from the looks of it, he clearly recognized you considering he has seen you quite a few times ― sometimes even when you`re not aware of his presence.

you bow a bit and give him a crooked smile although your eyes were so nervous, it couldn`t keep a single second of contact with his own until your eyes fixated on something familiar―it was the head peaking from behind junhui―of mingyu`s.

a wave of relief ran through your system as you, instead of returning junhui`s wave, put up your own palm and greeted mingyu. your friend`s eyes turn into crescents as he comes from behind the boy you just met and places his own palm against yours. you smiled up at him and he returns it as always.

seeing how junhui was left behind, mingyu turned around and stood next to you while placing his arm around your shoulder. a very familiar act. nothing you should be surprised of at this point.

“jun, meet_____, she lives across my street.”

you bow at junhui again. but in your head, you were wondering how did mingyu know him. at school, you`ve not really seen him around your friend and you, yourself haven`t really seen him that much. but without any further wait, mingyu answers the said question in your head.

“_____ meet wen junhui. he got transferred to our school few weeks ago and has newly joined the basketball team last week! have you seen him?”

“ah no―i think?” you answer back very unsure of your fading memory.

“mingyu said that you are quite a regular at the bleachers cheering for this buddy right here,” junhui speaks up for a first time after all this while. he pointed at mingyu while he utters those last words.

you flushed a bit at the mention of you being at the bleachers while you watch mingyu play. but it`s just, you are always there to support your friend. you don`t really make any sound while you`re at it though. most days, you just sit back and watch mingyu play. it`s not a secret that you very much adore his basketball skills.

“it`s nothing really..,” you squeeze out a carefree laughter although it ended up sounding like a nervous one, “i just…watch and,” with a shrug you continue, “maybe clap sometimes.”

junhui only chuckles as you finish. it looked like as if he caught you in your act. it really wasn`t looking nice for you now but at least you had mingyu`s arm around you so you stopped feeling a bit out of place, plus junhui was clearly a stranger. why must you care so much for what he thought?

“but even that bit is enough. after all, ______ & me, we`ve been friends since childhood. our mothers are best friends too! we even get to have weekly get-togethers every sundays.”

as new information for junhui`s ear comes to surface, you quickly looked over at him who now wore an indifferent expression as if somewhat a spark of jealousy lay across his chest. but when he saw you looking at him, he caught your gaze with his warm ones with that very recognizable smirk climbing onto his mouth making you think that he is clearly skilled at hiding his sudden change of emotions.

you stare at him for a good few seconds, feeling yourself getting braver as you have already caught him slip his cool awhile ago. clearly, in junhui`s head, he really didn`t want mingyu to continue so he spoke up.

“that`s good to know. but the question is will i get an invite someday?” he was asking mingyu the question but his eyes were all on you and at the same time he was observing how mingyu`s attention never faltered from upon your face.

you finally looked up to meet with your friend`s eyes on you and with one of his brows perked up, mingyu asked you as you did so, “that sounds good, doesn`t it? we should talk to our mothers for a permission though?”

you nod and add, “sure, that doesn`t sound bad. the more the merrier.”

absolutely not, you think back in your head, you definitely don`t like lots of people around you. no offense to junhui but you`re not exactly good with strangers or people in general.

“and what about cheering for me sometimes at the bleachers sometimes?” junhui leans against the shelf lightly and breaks the on-going conversation between you and mingyu with a sudden heated question.

“ayyyy that she will do of course. every friend of mine is _____`s friend so of course she`ll cheer for you, jun. although i`m a little special so i`ll get more cheers, right?” mingyu bent down and moved his face infront of you with the silliest smile on his face.

this boy, you thought, you`re really enjoying this, aren’t you?

you wanted mingyu to read your eyes but you were unsure if he was just putting up an act or simply being oblivious.

you close your eyes a bit and put up a pressed smile on your face as you thought about how mingyu clearly didn`t understand what junhui was trying to do here and on top of all that, he didn`t even let you speak before jumping onto answering the question for you.

you thought, maybe that`s what friends do. clearly, you were wrong in this.

“hahaha, sure, i mean why not―although i don`t know how much me cheering will help. i don`t even cheer, i just, like i said,” you huffed and leaned a bit to your side after turning your attention from mingyu`s child-like expression to junhui`s attentive ones, “i only sit and watch.”

junhui mirrors your act of leaning and replies.

“that`s very much enough.”

the line that forms on his lips gives his cheeks a lift. his eyes looks pure and yet with that built, you couldn`t really pinpoint what you should be feeling.

you didn`t know if you wanted to laugh or cry right at that moment. he was clearly copying mingyu right there but he added a little bit of his own spice in it.

you only nodded and smiled through the dilemma and made sure there`s nothing on your face that would give you how hot and bothered you were with just the presence of junhui infront of you.

“anyway,” gently pushing mingyu by his shoulders who was previously bending down to look at you face to face, “i need to get some dvds. so can i….look for them now?” raising your brows, you trail off looking at both of the boys as they nod and give you the space to choose.

but mingyu`s arm remained on your shoulder as you walked towards the shelf and junhui―he only moved away from his previous spot a bit. so now that you were standing in front of the shelf of dvds, you were stuck in-between two clearly much taller for their age boys.

sighing microscopically, you reached out your arm and pulled out a dvd of a sleeper-hit movie from decades ago―one of yours and your mother`s favorite.

“_____ you like this movie too?” junhui asks suddenly. his voice sounded slightly different this time. also, the sudden slip of your name from his mouth caught you by surprise for a moment. this was actually the first time he called you by your name if you could recall every interaction with him.

eventually, this particular moment resurfaces once in a while when junhui crosses your head sometimes.

“hmm, i do! you….” you reply.

“same, i do like it too―actually, it`s my mother`s favourite and―”

“mine too! it`s my mother`s favourite too!” you cut him off, declaring right away with an excitement in your tone with a sudden sense of familiarity very loud in the air between both of you.

junhui only blinks. his eyes a little bit wide and the smile which was now less smirk-like climbs on his mouth.

“ohhh junhui, both you & _____ have some similar taste, huh?” mingyu and his annoying self chirped in, which you obviously didn`t pay any heed to. you only replied with a “is that something very interesting to you?” but only in your head.

as if mingyu was about to reply, you turned around to look up at jun and let him continue clearly ignoring mingyu and his big mouth.

seeing how now your attention is all on him, junhui skipped the previous act of smile and giggled and if you could clearly remember it`s been a long time you`ve heard such a sweet giggle in a while.

“ah well i`ve watched it once with her when it was on television one day. i love the story of the leads and how even though they had to face all those hurdles, they didn`t falter in their discipline and way of life. it was…uplifting to me, i guess? staying grounded. loved that.”

“i understand. the feelings are mutual.”

this time the smile was genuine. you were glad that this time you weren`t nervous, that you could smile without stuttering through your thoughts although everything about junhui was distracting you. from his handsome built, his face to now having been discovered his soft giggle (it kept on replaying on your head for some unknown reason) and him, being this close to you right now wasn`t helping at all.

“that sounds very deep.” mingyu states. this time both you and junhui hum at the same time at him, not ignoring him.

“so did your mother tell you to rent it or….?” junhui asks.

“no, well, actually yes―both me and my mother thought of having a movie night. the dvd player at home is gathering only dust so we thought to have some good use of it.”

“oh so auntie must be making some good foods too, right?” this time mingyu joins in.

“ah yes, she `s making my favourite dish,” you spare him a glance before replying back.

“ah then what should i pick up…now that _____ has already picked up one from my bucket list today.”

junhui gifted you a look from the corner of his eyes while the well-known smirk adorned the corner of his mouth and he strolls across the makeshift corridor in-between the two large shelves softly drumming his fingertips on each of the spines of dvds placed in order.

“ah i`m sorry if you want you can keep it,” you brush off mingyu`s arm around your shoulder and walk a little bit towards junhui, “i can take some others, it`s not like this is the only one i needed anyway.”

the boy whom you just got to know spun on his heels with his arms now behind him crossed and he leans in to come closer to your face. a little bit closer and you could feel his breathe over you.

“same goes for me but _____what if we make a deal?”

“a deal?” you question him, curiosity hitting you from behind.

junhui hums.

“tell me about it.”

“what if you give me the dvd after you & auntie,” junhui looks at mingyu for a second, his eyes mischievous as he uses your friend`s addressing term for your mother and continues after placing his gaze upon you once again, “finish watching the movie and i pay for both of our rentals.” his focus on you remained until the end, or maybe a little bit after that. his eyes burned into you and you felt like you couldn`t run away from them, yet.

you were not going to lie but this proposal came like a shock. the giving of the said dvd in question to junhui after you`ll be done with it wasn`t the main shocker at all―it was the fact that he was offering to pay for both his and yours rental for this dvd.

suddenly, you heard mingyu`s footsteps from behind you. junhui straightens his back and watches your friend coming close to you. he only shrugs when he looks down at you. you didn`t know what kind of expression mingyu wore but you wish it was nothing major.

“oi jun―” you close your eyes right then and exhale before turning around your body to face your friend but mingyu cut you off, although you don`t know if it was intentional or just simple coincidence, “are you hitting on ______? dude you just met her.”

there you go. that`s it. just what you were fearing.

clearly, his voice had a certain strain at the back of his throat but he covered it up with his playful voice. a voice which carried a laughter which could be both mockery or sound as fake as possible. you didn`t know if junhui noticed it but being grown up with mingyu since toddler days, you could make it out very well.

you put your palms on top the denim clad chest of your friend, calming down whatever you wanted to calm down.

at the same time, you only heard junhui chuckle behind you. you couldn`t make out if it was an evil one or a natural one but the smug on his face was evident in his voice.

“hey it`s fine.” you say, your voice wasn`t reaching the octave you intended.

“looks like big boy`s a little jealous that me & ____ are hitting it off as good friends already?”

“it`s not about being good friends….hitting on someone and being good friends is different.”

“i was just trying to put on a good impression on her, gyu.” junhui, this guy , he was clearly enjoying this. but if his intentions were good then you didn`t see any problem with it.

“i don`t mind that at all but just so you know, _____ isn`t someone who`ll sway that easily. she`s a tough nut to crack.”

you almost laughed at mingyu`s words―it looked as if he was speaking from experience but you just shook your head and turned around. both of your arms now raised up in the air stopping both boys from having a fight here solely because of you for some stupid reason.

“it`s okay, it`s all fine.”

you looked up at junhui and continued in a calm voice “thank you for the offer, junhui, but i`ll pay for my own rent or else my mother will question about it and i`m really not in a mood to explain such stuff to her and about giving the dvd to you―” you give him a soft smile and said further, “i`ll send it to you through mingyu considering you hang out with him these days, okay?”

you nod up at mingyu who was previously looking at junhui. but when he saw you were looking at him, he switched from his squinting eyes combined with a sour pout to a completely different expression, the kind he gives you as if it`s only reserved for you―typically a warm one.

mingyu closes his eyes for a second and nods.

“i hope we`re clear now?”

“i was just playing around, _____, don`t worry,” junhui raised both of his arms up as if surrendering and continued “there`s no bad intentions here.”

in junhui`s head he was obviously being a good person and so was mingyu. junhui walked over to mingyu and playfully circled his arms around your friend and puts his other hand on top of his chest rubbing it playfully.

you let out a small laugh and saw mingyu lowering his eyes to stare up at junhui through his lashes and rolled his eyes before elbowing his new buddy in his sternum. junhui only yelps letting out a wheeze.

and, with that the dvd rental shop got filled up to laughters yet again until the sudden intentional cough from the part-timer made both of these playful boys shush down with each of their forefingers on top of their individual lips.

rolling your eyes and shaking your head, you walked across the shelves and picked another two old classics and went to the counter to pay for the rents.

mingyu picked up a newly released movie he was looking forward to last spring and junhui picked out two recent but a little older movies.

after you were done with the payment and all, you were about to walk out of the shop and waved a goodbye to the boys who were still paying. mingyu ran a bit to the door to hold it for you.

but before the door would completely close on you, your eyes moved over at junhui who was still standing at the counter―he was waiting for the changes but his face was turned towards you and he was looking at you with a now unknown gaze. you couldn`t really make out what it was but for some reason it made you a little bit sad.

but before he could witness the curve of your mouth for him, he closed his eyes for a second and smiled at you. your eyes widen at this and instantly without knowing you smiled back at him fully.

and that was it.

that was the last time you met junhui at that close proximity. you had seen him at the basketball court, you had seen him at random street. some day or night your eyes have met with each other and sometimes they didn`t, but his smile had burned through the surface of mind. some time, at some random time, you`ll suddenly get a flash back of his smirk or that fleeting smile he gave you before you closed the door on both of your first meet.

also you knew that mingyu probably made sure junhui never gets to have any closure with you. there`s been couple of times when you`ve found jun across the corridors of the school, simply hanging around and before anything can happen mingyu had circled his arm around junhui dragging his focus away from you who`d just be passing by to deliver some copies of homework to the teacher`s rooms.

you didn`t question this.

afterall, mingyu himself was in a dilemma of sorting out his feelings for you. he would probably do anything until you accept him in your life as something more than just childhood friends but even junhui never made sure to take any attempt, other than casual glances.

well, that`s what you know. it not like you know everything that the future holds. maybe one day you`ll meet him again when mingyu`s not around and you both will have conversations that never happened or waited for the right moment to have anything grow out of the seeds sown in this new friendship.

but for now, it`s okay. maybe someone from another town will catch feelings for him better, it`s not like you`ve him bounded by some string of fate.

it`s okay wherever you stand now when it comes to your relationship with junhui.

fin.

136 notes · View notes

sebstanseabass · 3 years

Text

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 16

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The sun glared through the thin sheet of the tent, making your listless self stir beneath the blankets draped over your naked body. Cautious not to wake Bucky, who had his arms wrapped around you, you carefully buried your face deeper in his neck but he wasn't that much of a deep sleeper as you thought he would be.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." He said, pulling you closer.

"G'morning." You replied, smiling against his skin. "Have you been awake this whole time?"

"Yes. I didn't want to wake you. You looked so peaceful sleeping."

"Someone tired me out last night."

Bucky chuckled, sending a low vibration on top of your head. "Hmm, how was he?"

"He's pretty good in bed." You chuckled. "But pretty creepy when he refers to himself in the third person."

You stayed right there for another hour — in each other's embrace, in heat, in thin sheets, in profound silence, still taking pleasure in the afterglow of what had transpired last night: the intimacy in each other's skin, of each other's mouths, of each other's everything. A kind of intimacy you never dared share with anyone, not even with your serious ex-boyfriend.

Before the both of you got up and headed down the fire escape and then to the apartment, you had looked at him one last time and asked yourself the same question you had asked Bucky the first time you were here on the rooftop:

"Have you ever felt that kind of feeling?" You asked.

"What feeling?"

"The afterglow feeling."

Was this the kind of afterglow you sought after?

You shook your head, suddenly feeling ridiculous. Perhaps it was the sex; just that. The most amazing, mindblowing sex I ever had in my life, you thought. The more you described it that way while descending down the stairs and entering the apartment through the window (while wearing Bucky's shirt which looked huge on you, by the way), the more you believed it was just because of that. Besides, it was something that had given you sweet, sweet pleasure, something that made me feel like you were high on drugs, something that made you feel alive, something that made you feel things you didn't even know you could — the after of it all, of course, was worth so much more.

You both went straight to the bathroom to wash your faces and brush your teeth as soon as you got in. Of course, you took way more time than he did. He soon went to the kitchen to prep breakfast. You approached him afterwards, his bare back exposed to you while cracking some eggs into a bowl.

Without any hesitation at all, you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head on his back. You caught a whiff of his scent, even though he reeked of sex, the vanilla-lavender hint never faded.

"Whatcha cookin', good-lookin'?" You asked, taking a peek on the table.

"I was thinking of making you Japanese omelettes today." He stopped whipping for a second to face you. He placed a finger on your chin, tilting it upwards, and proceeded to kiss me.

"Have I told you you have the softest lips?" He whispered after.

"Yes, you did." You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. "And you kept reminding me last night."

"Good. You should be reminded of all the beautiful things you possess." He rested his hands on your hips. You wanted to shy away from the mention of the word beautiful but you didn't.

You have always received compliments, yes, but you never learned how to respond to them unless they tell you how to: "Oh for god's sake, just say thank you." Most people compliment you just because they have to, because social convention dictates them to (especially when you're at a party). Some, perhaps only five percent, genuinely compliment you.

But the spontaneity of last night — all the compliments Bucky kept giving you, all the "beautiful" being said over and over and over, were playing in your head like a broken record. Even after he saw all the folds, the rolls, stretch marks, scars, and acne marks.

It wasn't just that. He admired every single one of your photos down at the bar, photos you worked hard for, photos people kept neglecting. He talked about them like how you imagined someone actually talking about them. He talked to you about the beauty of art like how you wanted to talk to someone about it (Weirdly so, you picked friends you had nothing in common with: Nat just wanted to gossip, Steve preferred to be mysterious, Peter was all about business, Wanda was the one person you could talk to about these but you chose not to anymore, and Nick... was just Nick). It was like reading each other's minds.

You treated each as a compliment.

The five percent you were talking about? Bucky was it.

He pulled you out of your thoughts by sliding his hands to your ass, squeezing the cheeks for a bit, then placing them on the back of your thighs. You smiled then jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist. He placed you on top of the counter next to all the ingredients he had prepared.

He grabbed your face and continued to make-out, leaving the eggs on the bowl raw and unwhisked.

"You should," you said in between kisses, "go back to cooking. I'm starving."

"Y'know, you could just eat me."

"Sorry, I want cooked eggs."

He pulled away from, yet his hands stayed on your waist. With a cute pout on his face, he said: "Mean."

You broke into laughter after that and you watched him cook this Japanese omelette he kept talking about.

"I would make you the most amazing Japanese omelette — and the most complicated one, by the way. It took me months to perfect that — but I'm too lazy to prepare the rice." He chuckled, grabbing an apron. "So, I'm just going to make you the normal one. It's called Tamagoyaki."

"Hmm, interesting." You commented. "I just do mine sunny-side up. Crack an egg on a pan. That's it. It's an underrated hack, really."

He laughed. "It's a good thing I'm here then." He proceeded to heat the pan, and throw some butter on it once the heat was good enough.

"You told me you only know how to cook breakfast, right? Why is that?"

"The same reason why you cook your eggs sunny-side up."

"It's easy?"

"Not just easy." He replied. "It's the easiest of all meals! Toast, eggs, bagels, bacon — see, they're pretty easy."

You frowned, tilting your head. "You know, most times, you say the most profound things but you do say the weirdest, silliest things sometimes."

It was like two people were fighting against each other inside him: the child, and the man.

He laughed at your comment and said nothing further as he concentrated on cooking. You watched him move around the kitchen as the minutes passed by. And while you talked about the small things in life, you couldn't help but wonder how this Bucky, standing right in front of you, kissing you, holding you, was much more different — way more different than the Bucky you knew in Peter's stories.

The thing you liked about it though, was that both versions excited you. You longed for spontaneous adventures, ones that you’d keep forever, ones that would remind you of the days of your youth, ones you too stuck up to do, and you longed for conversations like this, and the ones you and Bucky have had before, conversations that made you see more of life's beauty and appreciate it.

That same afternoon, you spent it lying down on a couch in each other's arms, watching a movie he guilted you into watching: Roman Holiday. You made side commentaries while you watched, how lame the lines were, how cheesy they all sounded, but at the same time, amazed at how things have changed since then.

"Ugh, I love me a vespa." You said, watching the vespa speed away on the streets. "I would just love to ride around New York city in a vespa and just pull off some Roman Holiday in this bitch."

"I have to admit, that does look fun."

And somewhere halfway through the film, when Bucky was making small circles with his finger on your waist (igniting fire within you, and at the same time, making you weak on your knees), you ended up making out, grabbing and touching each other beneath your clothes, and taking them all off, sending them flying all over the living room floor, and repeating what you did last night — except it was in broad daylight and Bucky dominated over you, over and over and over, flesh on flesh. You kept screaming each other's names. He kept fucking you into oblivion, taming the mad woman in you.

You laid there on your back, pulling down his neck with your right hand, making your foreheads touch, locking your eyes together, telling him to go "faster, deeper", digging deep and scratching into his back with your nails, making him hiss out your name, and at the same time, crying out his name repeatedly like a chant, making you forget your own.

You felt the droplets of his sweat on your skin, mixed with your own. You watched him ravish you, watched the pleasure consume him wholly, and watched his eyes roll back as he came inside.

"I really can't get enough of you, babydoll." He growled, and kissed you one last time before you showered and headed down to work.

"You look different." Nat observed, sitting on one of the high stools across you. "Did you do something with your face?"

"No, I didn't." You grimaced, shaking your head.

"Then, why are you glowing?"

"Quit staring."

She chose not to listen to you and kept on following you with her eyes as you moved around the counter. "Oh my god, I know what it is — "

"Goddamn it, Nat — "

" — you had sex!"

She cackled, gesturing you towards the booth with a sharp tone: "Booth. Now."

You followed suit. It was crystal clear in that moment that you had no other choice, that she held the upper hand in this friendship. You were starting to think that perhaps this friendship you were pursuing with Nat was a mistake as she kept on berating you about the information she just acquired.

"There's no way in hell I'm telling you all about it." You huffed, sitting across from her.

"I'll tell you one thing, though," she said, "I'm a fucking prophet."

"Don't be such a smug bitch." You rolled your eyes. "No one likes a smug bitch."

"What did I tell you about this Bucky thing, huh?" She smirked, ignoring you. Again. "Come on, spill the beans! I wanna hear everything!"

You shook your head unamused. "Nope. No way."

She groaned. "Please? Nothing exciting is ever happening in this bar but now I have this! You!"

"How about you and Steve humping each other like bunnies?" You bit your inner cheeks to prevent your lips from smiling. "That's gotta be exciting."

"Let's not talk about me and Steve."

"So, it's okay if we talk about my sex life but not yours?"

"Exactly."

You frowned. "You're a weird friend."

"No." She leaned in. "I'm a miracle-worker that happens to be your new best friend, by the way — "

"Parker's my best friend — "

" — and you should at least thank me. I am more than welcome, by the way."

"Nat, if you don't stop I swear to God I'm gonna out you and Steve to the whole ass bar." You groaned, knocking your forehead against the table. Coincidentally, you could actually out them of the closet knowing they were actually doing it in one of the closets here in the bar (yes, you found a condom wrapper lying around one time. Knowing what had transpired in that small space, believe you me, you sprinted the fuck out of there).

"Ugh fine, fine." She said, making you stop banging your head and forcing you to look at her. "Just tell me this... Was it good?"

You rolled your eyes. "Fine, yes, it was good."

"Just good?"

You sighed in defeat, leaning back on the cushioned backrest of the booth. "It was the best I ever had." Nat bit her lip, hiding a squeal. "There. Ya happy?"

"Now, I'm curious! Please, y/n, you have to tell me. I gots to know! Okay, tell me, how big was he?"

"What?! No, I'm not gonna tell you that."

"Come on, I'll trade you Steve's."

"Ew, Nat! Gross!" You cringed. "I don't wanna know that!"

Then, she proceeded to move her hands in the opposite direction slowly, "tell me when to stop." You shook your head and just watched her in plain amusement as she continued to do it. Her jaw dropped. "Oh my god, this big? Seriously?"

"I'm not telling you anything."

"Come on, you told me about the time you kissed!"

"That's different." You scoffed. "This one's... intimate."

"Ooohhh, intimate. Well, I've never heard anyone describe sex that way."

"It was just different, okay? Good different." You replied. "And that's all I'm telling you."

She heaved a sigh, finally accepting the fact that you won't go anywhere past what you just told her. "Okay, at least you gave me something. Do you mind if I ask you something real, though? I swear this is the last time. It's not about sex, I promise."

Convinced, you nodded. "Go ahead."

"So, are you guys dating now? Or is it just, ya know, fooling around?"

You sat there, undoubtedly floored by the question. You had never even given it a thought. It never crossed your mind until Nat just made you realize the consequences of yesterday, last night and this afternoon, the inevitable. Were you dating? Will you ever talk about it? Is he even considering it? Or will you just continue to have sex without ever talking about dating?

"I, uh, I don't know. We didn't talk about it."

"Well, clearly there's gotta be something, right? That it's not just fooling around. I mean you said it was intimate, that it was good different — whatever that means." said Nat. "There's gotta be something deep?"

You looked at Natasha with astonishment, baffled by the things coming out of her mouth. Apparently,you were still on cloud nine to think about any kind of repercussion, to think about what could happen next to afterglow.

"I guess?"

"Do you like him?"

"Clearly, I do."

Unlike Nat, you were stunned by your answer. You answered that question faster than the speed of light.

She smirked at you in response. "You are so gonna fall in love."

"Shut your hole, Nat."

The door flew open suddenly, revealing Bucky and Sam, which got you up your feet. Instinctively and ignoring Nat, you approached him halfway and greeted him with a kiss which he gladly reciprocated, all the things you and Nat just talked about disappearing into this sweet, sweet kiss.

"Hey you." You breathed after pulling away from his lips.

"Hey, babydoll."

"Oh hey, Sam."

"Hey, babydoll." Sam mocked, a smirk playing on his lips. "That's a cute name. What is that? French?"

Bucky smacked his friend on the stomach, making Sam groan and glare at him. "So, it's not French?"

"Sam." Bucky warned which Sam only found funny.

Bucky kept his hand on your waist as you approached the booth, with Sam behind us. Nat, who was still sitting on the booth, cocked her head on the side and eyed Bucky up and down. "Bucky, Sam... This is Nat from the night before." You introduced them to each other before you made them sit in the booth.

"Do you boys want anything to drink?" Nat asked.

"We'll have scotch." Bucky replied, giving Nat a friendly smile. "On the rocks."

"Actually, I don't know how to make drinks, I just asked to be nice."

You rolled your eyes at Nat, laughing lightly. "Don't worry, I got them." You approached the counter and prepared the drinks while Nat followed your trail.

"Babydoll?" She asked. "Steve doesn't even have a nickname for me."

"Okay, I have to ask this since you already did it to me anyway." You said, pouring scotch on the glasses. "Are you and Steve dating? Or is it just, like you said, fooling around?"

"We're friends... with benefits."

"So, just fooling around then?" You asked.

"Yeah, you can put it that way."

"Aren't you worried he might want something more than that? Like a relationship? He does seem like a man who wants to settle, y'know."

"Aren't you worried your new boy toy might want something like that too?"

You fell silent just as you were about to finish the drinks. You weren't worried about that, no. You were worried about you, wanting something more, something you haven't had in a long time, something Bucky hasn't had.

"The chances of me and Steve getting even serious are very slim." She whispered. "But you and Bucky? Now, that's a big fat chance. It doesn't even matter how long you guys have known each other. If there's chemistry, then you can't do anything about it, and the way you described your whole thing with him? Babydoll," she smirked, proud of herself, "if that's not chemistry then I don't know what is."

"As far as I can remember, you're the one who told me to just 'go where the river takes you' and now you're confusing me with these things!" You hissed, looking over at the booth and making sure Bucky won't hear your little banter.

She rolled her eyes at you. "Okay, okay, okay... Allow me to paint you a picture, y/n."

"Paint me a picture — ?"

"Do you know where the river takes you? A waterfall." Nat cut youoff. "Now, right now, you're still on a boat, just gliding through the river, going where the flow takes you. Then some time now, you're gonna hit a fast stream until boom, waterfalls, and when you reach the top of the falls, inevitably, you're gonna fall... fall in love, that is, with the hunky rich man over there. See? Painting a picture. I can be smart too."

You kept Nat's words in the back of your mind until you gave Bucky and Sam their drinks, saving them for later. Nat had to go out for a while to smoke outside, leaving you, Sam and Bucky in the booth, discussing the project you had with Sam's line, updating you with all the dates and details. Seeing as you'll soon be leaving the bar by the end of the week, you offered to start first thing next week.

"But I could actually give you a little pitch presentation just before we start shooting," you added, "idea decks we can work with, like styles, and some mood boards that fit your whole apparel aesthetic. But first, I need to know your brand bible, like your target audience, the tone of your business — stuff like that — just so I can prepare for the presentation."

"Wow, you know a lot about the business industry." Sam replied, amused.

"I used to major in business and finance." You sighed. "It does come in handy with my photography."

Under the table, Bucky reached for your hand, interlacing your fingers together and squeezing your hand three times which elicited a smile.

"Oh, I can give you a tour!" Sam enthusiastically said. "We can go to the office and to some of the stores; maybe the one in Fifth Street. We've actually received the shipment for the new designs. We could discuss everything then. How does tomorrow sound? Bucky can come with ya."

"Tomorrow works, yes! Tomorrow's perfect." You agreed.

You broke out in a smile, leaning on Bucky's side who was more than glad to see you discussing with Sam about the project, squeezing you hand once more, three times.

"Then, it's settled!" Sam boomed. "Now, where's the toilet? I think I got a little too excited."

You threw you head back, laughing. "Right down the hall over there." You pointed.

As soon as Sam was gone, Bucky turned towards you and held your face with his hands, planting a soft kiss on your lips. "You sound so hot talking like that."

You chuckled, sliding closer towards him, your thighs brushing past each other. "You and your weird mind, Bucky I swear to God."

With his lips pressed on yours, you didn't even notice the door open, didn't even notice Steve walk in. You pulled away, hearing Steve clearing his throat. With your hands still on Bucky, you turned towards Steve, who was clearly entertained, and sent him a huge smile.

"H-hey, Rogers." You chuckled nervously. "You remember Bucky."

"Mr. Barnes." Steve nodded at Bucky.

"Mr. Rogers."

You frowned at their formal exchange. "Bucky's actually here with his friend, Sam Wilson. I'm starting a project with him for his business that'll start next week. We were just, uh, discussing the details."

"In his mouth?" Steve smirked.

"Steve." You hissed. "Not cool, man."

"So, where's this Sam Wilson?" Steve asked, looking to his right.

"On your left."

Steve turned around on his left at Sam's voice. Both men stared at each other for a while before introducing each other and shaking each other's hands. Weirded out, you turned to Bucky and asked if they knew each other, if the three of them knew each other (as you now remembered that time when Bucky and Steve met here in the bar).

Bucky shook his head no. "Maybe he's just one of those familiar faces you see on the street." He whispered, but as Steve went straight to his office, and as Sam got back in the booth, a weird tension surfaced that was cut off by Nat entering the bar, together with some customers who were more than happy to be the first ones here.

"That's my cue." You sighed, standing up and letting go of Bucky's hands before going to the counter and greeting the customers.

You felt your phone vibrate against your back pocket after a few seconds. You opened it, and on the screen was a message from Peter:

Sorry couldn't get to you sooner. Lost my charger on the way to the cabin! Schmidt didn't want me to borrow his until I did everything he told me to. Everything's great! I'll send you pictures when I can.

Hope Bucky's taking good care of you. Miss you, y/n. I'll see you in a few days!

Your fingers hovered on the screen as you glanced at Bucky who caught your eyes. He winked at you while taking a sip from his drink and licked his lip afterwards, eyeing you up and down.

Tell Schimdt I'll beat his ass when he comes back. See you in a few days, Parker!

A series of what happened between you and Bucky flashed in your mind, making you bite your lip.

And don't worry, Bucky's taking good care of me.

... such good care.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky fan fiction #bucky fafiction #bucky barnes au #bucky au #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes story #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes

34 notes · View notes

haijimee · 3 years

Text

Sakura Flowers

Matsukawa Issei x Female Reader

Character of the Week Fluff

authors note: I love issei so much, he’s so sassy and lovely I wanna smooch him 💗 and now, the long awaited character of the week fic!

cw/tw: pure fluff??? some mentions of body insecurity, gossip. Mentions of marriage

song to listen to: So This is Love , Illene Woods & Mike Douglas

Issei Matsukawa was used to not getting that much attention, and when he did get attention it was mostly negative.

A whisper from some girls about how his uniform didn’t look good on him. A mumble about how Iwaizumi was much better looking than him. A murmur about how his smile made him look creepy.

But he never cared about those whispers, those words never mattered to him. He’d forget about them by the end of the day.

To him, only one persons words mattered.

Yours.

He payed attention to anything you said, and everything you said. It could be the silliest thing, you could be saying how the purple teletubby scares you, and he’d mentally note not to ever send purple teletubby memes to you in your 4am conversations.

He tried to engrave the sound of your voice and the way you said his name into his brain. He never wanted to forget the way his name rolled off your tongue as if it was the most natural thing.

“Issei!”

You would cry, running out of your classroom and launching yourself at him, giggling and already babbling away about how cruel your teacher was. He’d smile and softly clasp your hand in his, as you’d squeeze your intertwined hands and grin at him.

He didn’t understand your insecurities. Not one bit. How could you hate something so perfect? In his eyes everything about you was so beautiful.

And he’d tell you everyday, bringing your body onto his on his couch, relaxing as you’d lean your head back against his chest, humming as he’d run his hands across your scalp.

He’d whisper sweet words about how much he loved you and how beautiful you were, rubbing his hands across your stomach or thighs. Kissing the top of your head and flipping you over to face him.

He’d press his forehead against yours and you’d smile, and he’d laugh, leaning forward to press butterfly kisses all along your neck and tickle you until you were gasping for breath.

“Issei I love you..”

You’d say through breathy gasps, and it’d knock the breath out of him. It always did. You were the most amazing thing in his life. Those words sent blood rushing through to his ears and he’d smile again. A smile so big it parted his lips more to reveal all his teeth. You were so perfect to him.

He wants to marry you. He knows he does. He says it to you and it makes you blush. He doesn’t care you’re still in Highschool, he’ll do it the minute you both go to college. He promises.

“I think Matsukawa is a nice last name.”

You whisper, and Issei takes a second. Repeating it in his head. Your name with his last name. It fits so perfectly. He wants it so bad.

He wants to hold you in your shared kitchen, swaying as you cook to old love songs, both of you off key singing the lyrics as he spins you around. The rings on both your fingers catching the light.

Watching movies on the couch, wrapped in way too many blankets, pressed against eachother as he litters kisses across your face, interest in the movie that you’ve both seen 100 times lost. Both your minds on just being with eachother.

He could never dream of something so amazing, spending the rest of his life with you. He feels it’s his destiny. And he can’t help from smiling when you look back at him with a smile, eyes closed.

“I can’t wait for us to get married, Issei.”

“Oh sweetheart, you have no idea how hard it is for me to wait.”

GOD I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 🥺🥺🥺 THIS MADE ME SO SOFT!!! I LOVE ISSEI HE DESERVES SO MUCH APPRECIATION

#©️haijimee #🍓.haijimee character of the week #🌼.imagine #🌿.smiling #🧃.issei matsukawa #🥤.haikyuu!!#hq #hq fluff #x reader #matsukawa x reader #I love him #he’s so gorgeous and so sweet #if anyone thinks he’s not #blocked deadass #he’s so amazing #so gorgeous #muah #love you sweetheart

70 notes · View notes

maryenette-writes · 3 years

Text

How to Fall in Love and Out of Love [Tim Drake x Reader]

A/N: I personally don’t think this was very good. It went in a direction I didn’t intend and if I make a part two, then it would be in the direction I intended (without making an ‘alternate story’). Not sure if it’s any good tbh

Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader

Warning: None

Word Count: 3705

You weren’t the epitome of a model human being.

You knew that.

You tried to be grateful for the things you had. A roof over your head, food on your table, parents who loved you, even though they may not be very supportive of you as of right now, and a job… even if it wasn’t a decent one. It was enough to get by and that’s what you needed right now. As such, you were a bit rough around the edges. You weren’t graceful or stunning by any standards, at least you believed you weren’t. You didn’t have time to put much effort into your appearance, if you could afford it. Still, you were grateful for what you had.

Tim changed all that for you.

Your meeting was picturesque; he always bought coffee from the cafe you worked at, right across the Wayne Enterprises headquarters. Most workers would opt to buy from the cafe inside the building, but Tim claimed he liked the way you made his order—you knew specifically what he liked and always made it that way. He appreciated it, and in turn, he made you feel appreciated.

For you, someone who left home the moment you graduated high school to pursue your dreams of being a singer, someone who had spent the last few years navigating the city terrain alone with little to no help, his appreciation was welcomed with open arms. Admittedly, you had a bit of a crush on him, but considering the difference between the two of you, you thought it would not work.

But one rainy day, he came in, drenched from head to toe, with the silliest smile on his face. He apologised for getting the floor wet and asked for the usual. You were puzzled for why would he run through the rain to get a cup of coffee? Surely he could survive one afternoon without it? You asked him about it when you served him, and he admitted that he also wanted to escape from the leery eyes of the shareholders for a moment. He then told you about his troubles, how he had recently been promoted and everyone was doubting his abilities. They whispered devilish lies about him—how he was incompetent, how he only got his position due to his connections, how his parents never wanted him. The gullible shareholders voiced their opposition on his promotion, and this sent him on a spiral of work that kept growing.

“I just need one afternoon where I don’t have to deal with all that,” he sighed, “sorry if I’m overstaying my welcome.”

He kept apologising. Why would he keep apologising?

You shook your head. “Don’t be. There are no customers here, I doubt anyone would come in with this rain. Stay for as long as you like.” You said it casually, but inside your heart was racing.

“Thank you,” he said, a shy smile appearing on his lips.

That afternoon, you and him talked for hours. He told you about his work while you told him about yours. Both of you exchanged stories and histories, passions and worries. It was the first time you felt truly connected with someone, and perhaps that was why you fell so hard. He was polite and courteous, a welcome change from the hard personalities you dealt in the big city. He seemed not to mind your occasional sharp tongue and slip-ups, and listened to you when you poured your heart out about your dreams and your concerns about everything--your financial situation, your failures to find a gig, your loneliness, and your parents. He listened and not once did he judge you. It made you fuzzy.

But alas, all good things must come to an end.

When the torrential downpour stopped, Tim apologised profusely for cutting your conversation short and left, taking a moment to turn back to look at you before leaving. Sighing, you took the money from his table. When you counted the money, you were shocked that he tipped you so well. You made a mental note to thank him the next time. Then as you cleaned the table, you noticed something hastily scribbled on a piece of napkin. You picked it up and couldn’t help but laugh.

Scratch thanking him next time. Now you could just text him.

Falling in love with Tim was effortless. Becoming a couple wasn’t that much harder. From the moment you two truly spoke, that one rainy day, the two of you just clicked.

It was kind of a mutual confession. You two said it at the same time during a video call. To say your heart was racing at that moment was an understatement.

The next time you two met, it wasn’t at a cafe but on your first date. Tim was dressed up as handsomely as always. His no doubt expensive suit made you feel inferior with your thrifted clothes, but he didn’t seem to care.

“You look stunning,” he complimented you with a hint of redness on his cheeks. He avoided eye contact with you.

“Thanks! You-you too!”

Tim led you to his car, opened the door for you and closed it when you got into his car—he was a true gentleman. His car was spotless, and although you did not know the specific model, it was an expensive brand. It must’ve cost thousands.

“Where are we going?” you asked. Tim had insisted he plan the first date, and while you hated not knowing—due to financial reasons—you caved into his insistence.

“That’s a surprise,” he answered, glancing at you. You huffed.

“Tell me at least, am I overdressed or underdressed, because seeing how you are looking, I feel like I am severely underdressed.”

Tim laughed at your statement. “You look perfect [F/N]. Don’t worry.” Your cheeks felt warm when you heard that.

It felt strange being with him after the confession. You had clicked so well and talked and texted for hours, but now that both of your feelings have unfolded, you were so flustered. You hoped it wouldn’t be like this all night, or else you wouldn’t be able to bear it.

Tim seemed to have sensed your unease, so he spoke right after that thought. “How are your auditions going? Did you get any callbacks?”

“No,” you sighed, “but that’s okay. There are plenty of other gigs in the future. Someone is bound to book me!” You tried to be as optimistic as possible, not wanting to possibly bring down his mood.

“I’m sure you’ll get it soon,” he reassured.

“How do you know? You haven’t even heard my stuff,” you scoffed. You didn’t mean to sound rude. You cursed yourself quietly for that.

But Tim didn’t seem to mind. He never minded. “I know because it’s you.”

And there he goes again, making your heart flutter.

“Thanks Tim,” you said quietly. You truly appreciated his kindhearted nature.

“No worries,” he said, “and look, we’re here!” Tim turned into the underground parking and found a parking spot close to the elevator. When he turned off the engine, he quickly got out and rushed to your door, opening it for you like the gentleman he was. You could only mutter a shy ‘thank you’.

When you got to the restaurant Tim led you to, you couldn’t help but gasp, both in amazement and horror.

“Tim!” you whispered loudly, “isn’t this too… too… expensive?” You said the last word quietly, a bit embarrassed.

Tim waved a hand. “It’s fine,” he reassured, “I have enough to pay for the both of us.”

“B-but…” you started to protest, but then a waiter approached the two of you, and when he led you in, you knew it was too late to bail. The waiter handed you the menu, and you almost had a heart attack when you saw the prices. By the gods, some of them were more expensive than your entire outfit, and you definitely knew you didn’t have enough to pay this. You tried your hardest not to let your face show your panic, but it was useless.

Tim reached out and held your hand, giving it a small squeeze. “[F/N], it’ll be fine, trust me.” Sadly, you didn’t reciprocate his feelings. However, you didn’t want to bring down the mood, and on a first date no less, so you told yourself not to let it get to you. Ignoring that, the rest of the night went wonderfully. The two of you eased into conversation and all was well. When it was time to end the night though, the worry you submerged suddenly showed itself again, and it was more apparent than ever. The waiter came with the bill and you swallowed. You definitely did not bring enough for this. Tim took it, of course, and he immediately provided the money without batting an eye. You counted several hundred at least.

You felt so horrible.

But Tim seemed so happy, so you decided not to raise your voice once more. You allowed him to escort you to his car, take you home, and even walk you to the entrance of your apartment building. However, you didn’t dare allow him to walk you to your door.

“Thank you for tonight,” you said quietly.

“No problem! I’m glad I could finally treat you,” he responded happily. Your heart warmed, but there was a cold streak that you couldn’t get rid of.

“Drive home safely.”

“Thanks.”

You turned towards the door, ready to scan your keycard to enter, when Tim stopped you. When you turned back towards him, you were surprised with soft lips on yours. It was short and shy.

“Goodnight [F/N],” he murmured, smiling shyly before heading off to his car.

You touched your lips gently, trying to process what happened. When you did though, your felt yourself smiling too.

That smile wouldn’t leave you until the next morning.

If only your relationship had been as wonderful as the first night, but you should’ve noticed right away.

“Tim, you shouldn’t have.” You wanted it to sound endearing, but the statement came out more exasperated than you intended.

“I really want to treat you [F/N],” he said, placing down the last shopping bag.

“This is the… what? Seventh? Eighth time?” You sighed.

“I haven’t gotten the chance to see you much, let me do this for you.” Tim said.

You held your ground though.

“Treating me is buying me… I don’t know, an ice-cream, or flowers, or something. Buying tons of designer clothes probably worth more than everything I own combined is not treating me, it’s more like buying me.” You gasped and covered your mouth after this. You didn’t mean to say that.

Tim grew still and quiet. It was silent for a whole minute, and it was suffocating. He refused to look at you.

“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that—“

“You did,” he interrupted, “that’s why you said it.”

You sighed. “I didn’t mean it like that though…”

“Then how did you mean it?”

You took a seat on your sofa, which squeaked upon bearing your weight. “I just don’t want you to buy me things or think you need to buy me things to make me happy. It just… came out wrongly.”

“But what’s wrong with treating you?” Tim asked sadly.

“Nothing it’s—“ you sighed, “you always treat me though. On our dates, you pay for our meals. Whenever we go out, you always buy me presents, and treat me with expensive gifts. I don’t know what to do with all them… if you want to treat me, all you need is to spend time with me. That’s all I want and ask for.”

It wasn’t the first time you two argued about this—well, argue as in you telling Tim to stop and him saying he would but not actually stopping. You adored Tim with all your heart, but you felt horrible every time he bought you something new. You understood if it was the first few weeks of the relationship, but after three months, you thought he would learn of your tendency to avoid… well… expensive things.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his eyes downcast and his mouth turned downwards. Oh how you hated that look. It just made your heart twist.

“No… no don’t be,” you said, “I’m sorry too, for being harsh.”

You held out your hand, and he took it without hesitation. The two of you pulled each other close, meeting in the middle. It was like a metaphor of what you hoped the relationship would be—you and him meeting on the border of your two different worlds, two different personalities, two different people. But Tim leaned a little too hard and pushed you back, and you pushed back to keep your balance.

“I hate arguing with you,” you said.

“Me too.”

You glanced at all the bags he brought up to your apartment, mentally sighing at your ever growing closet collection. Still, you knew you shouldn’t be too hard on your lover who is only wanting to convey his love for you. You two just had different ways of loving, that was all. Yours was… time spent together, while his was… presents.

The problem was, as more presents piled on, you grew restless and feel the need to give back. You hated that feeling. Perhaps it was a result of living in this city, where nothing was free and everything had a price. You couldn’t help but feel like Tim’s gifts had prices as well, prices you couldn’t repay. It was why you wanted him to stop, but he couldn’t seem to understand that.

But you were optimistic. Tim was always caring and considerate. Perhaps he felt he owed you too, for love. That was why he kept giving you things and treating you. You were optimistic in that maybe, in the future, you and him would come to a mutual understanding and he would stop gifting you presents.

The perfect balance in the middle.

You stared at the food in front of you, the last of its warmth leaving it as the minute ticks by. The sounds of the city, barely contained by your thin walls, were all that accompanied you as you sat in your apartment, alone.

Tim had promised that he would come.

He promised this time.

With a heavy sigh and a grumbling stomach, you grabbed the meal you made and popped it into the microwave. Your eyes burned but you refused to allow yourself to cry.

It wasn’t the first time.

You knew it wouldn’t be the last.

It has been a little over a year since you and Tim started this relationship, and things hadn’t gotten better for you. There would be moments, of course. Moments where he held your body after a restless night, where the two of you enjoyed the silence in each other’s company, where the two of you spent the whole night up watching movies, where he would take you on midnight adventures to the outskirts of the city. But… despite all that, there were more nights of loneliness, more unanswered calls, more rain checks as he prioritised everything above you, and an apology in the form of a gift would always follow. You hated it but he made it a habit.

How did it get to this?

Was it you?

Was it him?

And could it be salvaged?

The beep of the microwave interrupted your thoughts. You grabbed your reheated food, brought it back to the table, sat down and began to eat. As you were halfway through HIS meal, a notification from your phone appeared.

I’m so sorry [F/N], I can’t make it tonight :( Something urgent came up with the family that I have to take care of.

You sighed. Always something urgent—with work or family or something. It’s always an excuse. You decided not to respond to him. You were tired.

But then again, Tim is an important figure. Not only was he a public figure, he also has a lot of responsibilities within one of the largest companies in the world. Not to mention his family is quite high profile, and close, so he had familial obligations to attend to no doubt.

You played with the remainder of your food.

He hadn’t even introduced you to his family.

You wondered if anyone knew. Tim tried his best to keep you away from the public eye and business. You understood that he was worried about the impact of it on you.

But you were an aspiring artist. You should be prepared for this. Sure, you only had a few big gigs here and there, with the largest being the opening to a charity event, but you were slowly making a name for yourself. You knew that your career choice could expose you to the media and the public, and you were prepared for it. So why? Why did he keep you a secret?

Could it be… he was ashamed of you?

You shook your head. No… no that couldn’t possibly be it. It was Tim you’re talking about. Your sweet Tim, who always reminded you of his love and devotion to you. Tim, who no doubt brought out the best of you. Tim, who saw only the good in you.

He couldn’t be ashamed of you.

Your phone rang. You already knew who it was.

“Hello?”

“[F/N], hey,” Tim’s voice sounded familiar through the phone, “I wasn’t sure if you got my message but something urgent came up—“

“No I got it,” you interrupted.

“Oh… are—are you angry?” He asked hesitantly.

You took a while to answer. “No… no I’m not… just disappointed, that’s all.”

“I’m so sorry. I know you were looking forward to this.”

“It’s okay,” you said, the lie slipping effortlessly out of your lips, “maybe next time, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He sounded relieved. “I got to go now… I love you [F/N].” Unlike other times, it didn’t make your heart swell.

“Love you too.”

Why was it getting harder to say it?

You prepared for it.

You prepared for the moment.

You prepared for the questions, the tears, the way he cried as he asked why, and those beautiful eyes of his, once so full of joy, now full of confusion and sadness.

You prepared for it, but fuck did it still hurt.

It really was inevitable, your parting.

You loved Tim with all your heart, but you couldn’t love him in the way that you used to anymore. You began to expect the disappointment, his absences, his apologies. You grew used to it. It was as if you were single again. And when he was there, you didn’t feel the same butterflies in your stomach.

You stopped denying it. You stopped being optimistic and finding excuses and started to face the reality.

“I’m truly sorry Tim,” you said, refusing to meet his eyes, “but my decision is final. I want to end our relationship.”

As Tim left your apartment, the relationship flashed before your eyes. You recalled the first time he walked through the door of the cafe, his nervous smile and his charming demeanour. You recalled that one rainy day where the two of you talked for hours, late nights texting him, your first date, his first gifts, cuddling him all night and day and your adventures through the city. Each place in your apartment held a memory of him.

But somewhere along the way, he became more absent and the memories grew dark. It became waiting for him, being left on dates, him not showing up, his secrets and his tendency to prioritise everything else but you.

You understood that he had a life. You did too. But perhaps that was why it was never bound to work.

He was in a different place in his life. He was busy with his family and his work, and he couldn’t make room for you. And to be honest, you didn’t want him to. You didn’t want him to sacrifice his family or work for you. You didn’t want him to sacrifice anything. To ask that of him would be so selfish of you, and as selfish as you were, even you knew that was wrong.

As for you, a person who valued time over everything else, his inability to make time for you was difficult. He gifted you of course, but gifts meant little to you after a while, especially as they were so frequent. They lost their meaning. It was like the word “sorry”. He always gifted you something as an apology, and while he made the effort to do that, you just wanted time with him. As someone who was always busy, he couldn’t do the one thing you wanted.

It damaged what you two had, and that damage became irreversible.

Part of you suspected that this went on for so long because you loved the way he made you feel. He made you feel loved of course, but you also loved the person you were when you were with him. You loved the person he saw you as. As someone who had been met with nothing but failure since coming to Gotham City, he was the first person who made you feel like anything but a failure and you clung onto that for a little too long, chasing that high.

So in that sense, you’re also accountable for the damage of the relationship.

You still loved him, of course. You always will. But he needed to focus on his life and you should focus on yours. You hoped that one day, he would be in a place where he had room and time for a lover, and he wouldn’t need to sacrifice anything. You hoped that he found someone that spoke his love language, that understood his form of love and made him feel the same way that he made you feel.

You hoped for the best for him.

But as for you… you had to close the door between you two.

So, with one last glance at his disappearing figure through your apartment window, you closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and turned around, pushing Tim out of your mind for good.

83 notes · View notes

athenamikaelson · 3 years

Note

I need fluff 😭 would you be able to write a Dean Winchester x reader where reader and Dean have been married for a few months and when they're at a get together at Jody's, reader makes the silliest joke and can't stop laughing along with everyone and then looks at Dean and says "I'm so sorry do you want this back?" while pointing to their ring and smiling and Dean smiles super big and just fluff ❤️

Dean Winchester x Reader

Request- I need fluff 😭 would you be able to write a Dean Winchester x reader where reader and Dean have been married for a few months and when they're at a get together at Jody's, reader makes the silliest joke and can't stop laughing along with everyone and then looks at Dean and says "I'm so sorry do you want this back?" while pointing to their ring and smiling and Dean smiles super big and just fluff ❤️

Warnings- Swearing, fluff, cheesy joke

Word Count- 974

Wrapping the last of the burgers in tin foil I walk outside holding the plate and bring it to Jody and Bobby who are cooking at the grill. Well, trying to, I guess. It’s mostly them bickering back and forth like an old married couple about what is the right way to cook burgers. I slowly walk behind them trying not to get in between their squabble.

“Damnit Bobby you don’t press so hard down on them, you’re going to get out all the damn juices!” Jody yells in Bobby’s face while taking the plate from my hands smiling at me in thanks.

“Thank you dear. Please tell Bobby he can’t press down so damn hard on the burgers!” Jody looks at me expectantly. I turn to Bobby who is looking at me with a stern look. Uh oh. At this point I could either piss off Bobby or Jody. Either one would probably hold it against me until the day I die. I’m just about to open my mouth until I feel an arm wrap itself around my waist pushing me towards the owner of the arm. I look up to see my beautiful husband looking at Bobby and Jody. His cheeks are a rosy tint and he has a soft smile visible.

“I’m sorry. But, I’m going to have to steal my wife away.” Dean peers down into my eyes. And his green eyes meet mine. God he’s beautiful. I’m so lucky. How’d I end up with someone as gorgeous as him?

Little did I know he was wondering how he ended up with the most gorgeous being alive himself.

Before Jody and Bobby can object, Dean practically rushes me away from the pairing. Without looking down at me he laughs under his breath.

“Am I not the best husband alive?” He finally looks down at me in which I grab his chin and bring him down to meet my face level, in which I place a swift onto his lips.

“The best.”

As the night goes on a group of us are sitting around the fire. Bobby and Jody are sitting next to each. Finally done bickering, for now. Sam and Claire are sitting next to each other discussing who the hell knows. Rufus is sitting next to Castiel surprisingly. I can only hear bits and pieces of their conversation but by the look on both of their faces it must be quite thought provoking. And Dean is sitting next to me with his plate on his lap, enjoying his 3rd burger of the night. This man has got the metabolism of an oxen. His other hand that isn’t covered in burger grease is wrapped around my waist. Where it hasn’t moved from all night.

“So Y/n, how has married life treated you?” Claire asks how conversation with Sam stopped. I look up to Dean but he’s consumed by his burger. But, I know he understands what’s going on because he squeezes my side after he heard Claire’s question.

“Um, it’s different. But not at the same time. I mean even before we were married Dean and I were always together.”

“That’s for sure.” Sam says. Which earns a few laughs and agreements from the group.

“As I was saying,” I throw a glare at Sam which only gets me a smile in return, “it’s different because we seem to depend on each other more than we did before. We're a pair for life now.” I realized I sounded too sappy so I just shrugged my shoulders and said “or whatever” under my breath. After the different conversation begins again I look up to Dean only to find him staring at me. He has a smile on his face and his eyes are roaming my face.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” I say as I start to wipe whatever is on my face off. Until Dean takes my hands in his and holds them in his, taking them away from my face. He then leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead.

“I love you Y/n.” He then presses a kiss to each of my cheeks before pressing one onto my lips.

“I love you too Bub.” Our moment is short lived though because a loud wave of laughter comes from the group around us. I look to the group with a confused looked. Jody must notice because she explains that Claire had just told a rather funny joke. In which I of course told them I also had a good one.

“OK, you guys ready?” I look over the group to see them all staring back at me waiting.

“Well, here's the thing. My grandfather has the heart of a lion. You know. I guess that’s why he was banned from the zoo.” Silence. I look over the group to see them processing the joke and Cass just sitting there with a confused look.

“That was damn near the stupidest joke I’ve ever heard kid, but that’s why it was funny I guess.” Rufus says followed by him laughing, which causes the rest of the group to laugh at how stupid the joke was. Proud of myself I laugh along. Until I look over to Dean and see him looking at me with an unreadable expression. I look down at my fingers and then at the ring on my left hand. Taking it off I look back to him and put it in his face.

“You want this back?” I say with a sound of sarcasm. A smile then breaks onto his face before he takes the ring from my hands and places it back onto my finger.

“I told you I’d love you forever and a day. And I never break my promises.”

“Wait,” Cass interrupts everybody, “I do not get the joke.”

#damon salvatore #Sam Winchester #supernatural rp #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fanfiction #supernaturaledit #supernatural #dean x reader #Destiel #dean winchester #bobby #jody #claire novak #castiel

53 notes · View notes

retrievablememories · 4 years

Text

friends | haechan

title: friends pairing: haechan x black!reader genre: fluff, a lil angst request: “Do you think you could write about (black) reader dating haechan and meeting some of the other members for the first time. Something fluffy, maybe a little angsty bc worries they won’t like her” word count: 1.6k warning: self-consciousness issues, mentions of racism a/n: i was going thru it during the process of writing this fic so i hope it turned out decent. please don’t be afraid to share feedback or critique. life has been hectic sjdkjdajk but i’m trying to get it together

“Y/N, you look fine, I’m serious.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, fixing your hair and outfit for the millionth time that day. The bow in your curly hair seems lopsided, and you feel like nothing fits quite right.

“I’m 1,000% sure,” Haechan sighs, flopping back on your bed. He watches as you keep fidgeting around, wondering if he’s past the point of being able to convince you.

“Sorry, Channie. You know I’m really looking forward to meeting the guys, I’m just a little...nervous.”

“What are you nervous about? You know you can tell me anything,” he says, hugging one of your pillows.

“Just not sure if they’ll...like me,” you say as nonchalantly as possible, but there are few things you can slip past Haechan. He sits back up after hearing your admission, and you can see the concerned and slightly sad look he gives you in the mirror.

“Why wouldn’t they like you? You’re...you. If they don’t like you, I’ll just beat them up!”

You snort with laughter. “Thanks for that, but you probably shouldn’t fight your group members. It’s just, I don’t know, I’m...different, in case you haven’t noticed. Black people aren’t exactly the beauty standard around here.” You roll your eyes. “Not that I should really care, but still...it’s hard not to know what people will think of you just because of what you look like.”

Haechan slides off the bed to come up behind you, hugging you tight around the waist.

“I wouldn’t put you harm’s way like that, especially if I thought they’d have a problem with you because you’re a different race,” he says softly.

“I know, but sometimes you can’t help but wonder....people are hard to predict, Haechan.”

“You’re right about that…” He plays with the end of one of your curls absentmindedly. “I genuinely think they will like you though, regardless of who you are or what you look like...you’re one of the best people I know and the best girlfriend ever. They would be stupid not to like you.” Even though you don’t want to, you laugh at that. “We should never let differences stop us from loving each other, or making new friends, or...anything!”

You take in his words for a moment before nodding and patting his hands. You’re not sure if you can get to 0% nervousness just yet, but his words have already done a lot to calm you. “You know, you can be quite wise when you wanna be.”

“Duh—that’s because I’m a genius.” Haechan boasts before kissing your cheek and going back to flop on your bed again.

The restaurant you go to is a little hole-in-the-wall place where the owners know all the boys and let them eat in peace without all the fanfare that would come from any other establishment. Haechan has mentioned before that he enjoys having at least one place where people aren’t passing out over his good looks, and you can only roll your eyes at that.

Your stomach flips upside down as you both walk up to the building. The guys are already there; you agreed to meet up with them. Even though you’re unsure about everyone’s reactions, Haechan has refused to let go of your hand the whole time, even on the ride over to the restaurant.

“Your hands are sweating so much, you’re gonna drown me,” he laughs.

“Ugh, shut up,” you whine, but you laugh too. He opens the door for you, and you both go inside.

The place is small but quaint, as most mom-and-pop stores are. One of the waiters immediately waves to the two of you as he heads back to the kitchen, obviously well-acquainted with Haechan.

The other guys are seated in one of the far corners of the restaurant near the window; they call out greetings and wave you over once they spot you.

Haechan raises your joined hands together over your head, and you’re a bit confused for a moment before you realize he’s trying to get you to do a twirl. You laugh, embarrassed, but you do it anyway.

“Hyungs, are you excited to finally meet my girlfriend, A.K.A the most beautiful, extravagant girl in the world?” Haechan speaks excitedly as you both take your seats at the table.

“Of course we are, you talk about her nonstop!” Yuta says, teasing the younger boy.

“You didn’t tell us she was this pretty,” Jaehyun takes your hand in his and Haechan sighs exaggeratedly, pushing his hands into the mix to separate you two.

“Yeah, Hyung, I wonder why. Some of us here would actually like to keep our partners!” The other men laugh at that, while Jaehyun argues his innocence.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Mark says, grinning cutely. “I’m Mark.”

“I think she already knows who you are,” Haechan says, rolling his eyes like Mark just said the silliest thing ever.

“Dude, it’s called being nice! Try it sometime.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you respond. You’re still feeling a little nervous, but those threads of anxiety are quickly unraveling in the presence of their easygoing, laidback demeanor.

“It’s definitely nice to meet the person who’s been making Haechan so happy lately,” Taeil interjects. “But don’t be afraid to let us know if he ever breaks your heart—I’ll handle it personally!”

“Hyung, please.” Haechan whines.

The waiter from earlier soon comes up to the table to ask about what kind of drinks you’ll be having. He looks like he could be around Jaehyun’s age. “And who is this lovely girl? I’ve never seen you around here before.”

You tell him your name, and the waiter introduces himself as Hyungjoon—though you could already guess that from the nametag on his shirt. “Anyone that Haechan likes is a friend of mine. You should come by more often! It’s always fun to meet new customers around here.” He soon zips off to go get your drinks after taking your orders, and you turn to the other boys in the group.

“Sooo, what were you guys doing before you got here?” The boys immediately launch into an excited discussion about one of the new songs they’re recording, which they’re probably not supposed to be talking about anyway; but who really cares what SM says? Maybe it’s silly, but you feel warm and fuzzy inside that you can be privy to these kinds of talks, like you’re already a trusted friend.

You and Haechan end up sharing most of your food, whether it’s you sneaking bites off his plate or him feeding you straight from his chopsticks. This is usually par for the course when you’re eating alone together, but you feel a little embarrassed that he seems extra determined to play it up in front of the other guys.

You give him a boy, are you serious look by the time dessert comes around, with him playing airplane with the spoon of ice cream sundae he tries to feed you.

“Why do you insist on feeding me like a baby?” you ask jokingly, though you definitely don’t turn the scoop down, either.

“Because you’re my baby, duh.” Yuta and Jaehyun groan at the sappiness that Haechan is pouring on thick, while Taeil and Mark laugh at your reaction. You burst out laughing, trying to cover your mouth to avoid spraying Haechan with the ice cream, but you’re a few seconds too late. He shouts and whines like a kicked puppy until you wipe the remnants off his face with your napkin.

“You two really are like a married couple,” Taeil comments, giving you both a sly look.

“Don’t say that out loud, Yuta’s gonna start the wedding plans tonight,” Jaehyun says, and Yuta pretends to look offended.

“Tonight? We should at least wait until he buys a ring, right Haechan?” He reaches over the table to pinch the younger man’s cheek and he only swats him away.

“You guys are too much!”

“Did you enjoy yourself today?” Haechan asks you, swinging your hand in his. The night air is cool, but not uncomfortably so. It’s the perfect kind of atmosphere for a night walk in the park, which you’re currently doing.

The moon is nothing but a crescent in the sky, but the stars twinkle with their own brightness, obscured every once in a while by a drifting cloud or two. The sounds of nightlife surround you, crickets chirping and night birds singing.

“Yes, I’m glad I came.” You smile, squeezing his hand and leaning into him. “It was fun. Everyone was really nice, and I’m happy it went well…”

“I told you they would like you,” Haechan says, bringing your joined hands up together to kiss the back of yours. “You’re a star; everyone likes you. I often feel sorry and even a bit helpless because I know it’s not always easy for you living here...but no matter what, you’ll always have me by your side.” Haechan pauses for a moment before laughing nervously. “I didn’t embarrass you too much, did I?”

“What—no. I did think it was kinda cute,” you snicker.

“I just like you a lot, and I want other people to know it...and if they don’t like it, then they don’t matter.”

“Oh, stop—this is like a scene out of drama! You’re gonna make me cry.” You pretend to wipe away a tear, though you do hug his arm closer to your body, feeling more appreciated and grateful than you can possibly express. “...You’re a good person, Haechan.”

Haechan kisses the side of your head where your bow rests in your hair. “I’m glad you think so.”

127 notes · View notes

jianghuchild · 3 years

Text

Lovers' Day

The tortoise shell split open with a series of firecracker popping noises. A’Lian stoked the fire, then returned the poker to its stand. She turned to her sister.

“What does it mean?”

A’Qing bit on the stub of her thumbnail. She tilted her head this way and that, golden hairpins swaying in the light. She was nearly formless, red dress rippling around her and jewelry flickering.

“It’s coming,” A’Qing replied. Her eyes roved over the cracks in the shell. “In four days, on the seventh day of the seventh month, the stars will gather like magpies.” Her mouth twisted wryly. “Lovers’ day.”

“A bridge, then.”

“Yes.”

“How will I find him?”

A’Qing gestured to the fire tongs. A’Lian hefted them and reached into the fireplace. She clamped down on the tortoise shell and pulled it out, balancing it in the air carefully. Her forearms strained with the effort. A’Qing examined the cracks.

“The bridge will lead you. Once you find him, you’ll be able to pull him out.” A’Qing ran her jagged thumbnail across her lower lip. “You might need something.”

They crouched over the cardboard box, one of many in the upstairs closet-turned-storage space. This particular box was labelled Betrothal Gifts in square, Chinese script. A’Lian still remembered the way her parents glowed.

A good man, they’d beamed. He’s sure to take care of you.

The night before the wedding, A’Qing had come sobbing into her lap. A’Lian had stroked her hair and told her it would be alright, that she wasn’t leaving their family, only joining a larger one. Now, A’Lian wanted to smack herself.

After that day by the river, A’Lian had nearly thrown the whole lot into the fire. A’Qing talked her out of it.

“That should do.” A’Qing pointed at a thin box. A’Lian opened it. It was a golden, phoenix-shaped hairpin, identical to the one A’Qing wore now. “Something to guide you to each other.”

A’Lian took the hairpin. She shut the box and shoved it into the back of the closet. Her stomach roiled. She leaned against the wall and sat down, staring at the ceiling.

“What will you do, after I’ve found him?”

A’Qing made a noise. “Are you kicking me out?”

A’Lian rolled her head to look at her sister. The wall was hard against the back of her skull. A’Qing sat primly, legs tucked in below herself and hands folded across her lap. Her wide sleeves fluttered.

A’Lian laughed dryly. “I wish.”

“Aw.” A’Qing drew her red, paper-dyed lips into a mocking pout. She hovered a hand over A’Lian’s arm. “Jiejie is so mean to me.”

A’Lian snorted. “Don’t push it.”

On the seventh day of the seventh month, A’Lian perched cross-legged on the dinner table. Her eyes roved beneath her closed lids. Her hands rested on her knees, thumb and middle finger touching. Her fingers twitched. The thin metal of the hairpin grew warm and slick in her palm. A’Qing’s breathless voice ghosted across the shell of A'Lian's ear, barely audible over the sound of her rushing blood.

“Is he here yet?”

“Almost,” A’Lian murmured. Stars, pinprick-bright, hung against her eyelids. The lights grew and shifted, lengthened and sprouted wings. They took off all at once, a thunder of wingbeats that drowned out A’Lian’s own roaring pulse. For several moments the space behind A’Lian’s eyelids was only a brilliant white light. She winced and wondered idly if she might go blind. It would be worth it, she thought, to see him one last time. She still remembered everything about him. A rushing river. A red wedding veil. Waking up to realize the most important person in her life was gone.

The light shrank. It twisted until its fuzzy contours resolved itself into the shape of a man. A’Lian was suddenly very aware of the pounding in her chest. The figure settled, lines and colours pouring in like strokes of an ink painting. Then it was him, really him, standing on a bridge of magpies. Her mouth went dry.

A red veil. A wedding dress. A marble-white body fished out of the river.

He was every inch the man she remembered. He blinked his beautiful, wide, beautiful eyes. His perfect brows drew together in a frown, pink lips ever so slightly parted. And he was close, close enough to touch. A’Lian peered into the distance where the bridge disappeared.

“A’Lian?” His voice trembled.

Miànxiàng hǎo, her mother always said. Yǎnshén chúnzhèng, her father would agree. Good face. Honest eyes.

“It’s me.” She smiled. “You’ve hidden yourself quite well.”

He faltered. “I… I’m sorry?”

“I looked for you all over, and I couldn’t find a single trace. If it weren’t for A’Qing, I might never have found you. ” Her smile turned sardonic. Fear flashed in his eyes. The twist of her lips was sour on her tongue. “It is lovers’ day, after all.”

“What are you—” His voice shook so badly his jaw clamped shut. He twitched, then tried again. “What are you talking about? A’Qing…”

White, frothing rapids against a jagged bank. A red veil rushing atop the current. A bloodless body in a red wedding dress. A useless police force and a runaway groom.

“Yes.” A’Lian dropped her smile into a disdainful twist. She followed the magpie bridge into the distance out of the corner of her eye. “You forgot I have spirit eyes, didn’t you? You always forgot the silliest things about people. Like how my little sister never wanted to marry you.”

A shining phoenix hairpin in dull, salt-ravaged hair. A’Lian’s own ragged crying too loud, too alive, cradling a sister too cold, too dead.

His face, such a beautiful face, twisted. His full lips contorted into an ugly sneer and his bright eyes turned cruel. “I would have done anything for her—”

“Well done,” she cut in. Her throat squeezed with the effort of trying not to shake. “I can’t say she might do the same for you.”

Miànxiàng hǎo. Yǎnshén chúnzhèng. And A’Lian would smile, and A’Qing would sigh but not speak.

“Who are you to—”

A’Lian raised an arm—both in the real world and in the ghost one—and grabbed him by the collar. She wrenched him forward, close enough to see his pupils dilate. She could see, so clearly now, where the magpie bridge met him in the real world. There was nowhere for him to hide now.

“I am my sister’s messenger,” A’Lian murmured, and smiled sharply. “Found you.”

His body solidified around her fist and she pulled, jerking out of her position on the table. She threw him to the floor. He scrambled to his hands and feet. Almost as if not by her own will, she sprang off the table and pinned him down. Her knees squeezed his sides and her hands found his throat. The hairpin wasn't in her hands anymore. She could feel its weight on her head. His fingers scrabbled at her face. A stinging pain seared across her cheek. She turned her head and bit his finger. He howled. She leaned down next to his ear.

“I won’t run,” she whispered breathlessly. “They’ll know how you died. I’m not like you.”

His legs kicked out beneath her and his nails drew blood, but she held on.

In the end, it didn’t look too good for her. They couldn’t prove it was premeditated. But neither did she act in self-defense or in defense of another. She had, she told them, only she was a few years late. The jury was not amused.

She sat on the edge of her bed. Her thumbnail grazed across her lower lip. Her bare feet were frigid against the metal bed frame. She watched herself from the tiny mirror above the sink. A small figure all in orange.

Well. At least it wasn’t red.

#m's writing shenanigans #thought i'd go ahead and post this #it's from a while ago #soft fantasy #chinese fantasy #urban fantasy #(?)#idk how to tag this #go listen to 'chinese wedding' by ge dong qi

2 notes · View notes

gingerhulksmash · 5 years

Text

The sketchbook.

Hazel has gotten used to throwing away little scrap bits of paper bearing any marks of her boredom during senate meetings, but she’s beginning to regret it now, as she’s bundling old meeting notes into a recycling bag. They never contained anything vital to the meetings, just stickmen blowing rude speech bubbles, games of hangman and tic-tac-toe, Jason’s chicken scratch scrawl asking did she want to get donuts after the meeting? She can’t remember if she’d said yes, or if she’d smiled, or if she’d told him she had drills to run.

She hopes she’d said yes. She hopes she’d scribbled yes, I would love to get donuts with you, so he had known for sure that there was nothing else she’d rather have done that day. If she’d known what was coming, she’d have asked him, after every meeting, and stretched out what should have been a longer friendship. What should have been more time with her first friend in Camp Jupiter. What should have been more time with someone she saw as a—

As a—

She’s getting distracted, and her eyes are starting to prickle. With a shuddering sigh, Hazel goes back to gutting Jason’s old desk. Purging it of all traces of it’s former occupant, though she’s fighting the urge to have it towed towards his funeral pyre. Whoever sat at it next wouldn’t be quite so deserving, not of the title, not of the office, not of the desk so covered with the imprint of his late night work and coffee spills, she begins to wonder if they couldn’t conjure Jason’s soul from out of the grainy wood itself.

But, she reminds herself, it’s just a desk. No more a part of Jason than the office, the chair, the pages and pages of work scattered around. As she plucks the sheets from the drawers, her fingers brush the soft leather spine of an old sketchbook. She gasps quietly, fingers jarring with uncertainty — as if she’d found a diary, some private relic that Jason would have forbidden her to touch if he’d been there.

He is not there, and Hazel pulls the book from it’s hidden corner of the desk drawer, glancing around to make sure she is completely alone.

Inside is a comfortingly familiar mess of writing, and drawings. Almost every page is stained with coffee or ink — after the Giant War, Jason’s hands had developed a slight tremor, and she sees it in the unsteady lines in the details. The pages are dated, signed, almost pedantically. Habits of a boy whose life had been pulled out from under him, once, twice, thrice. An ache in her chest tells her that he was making sure he forgot nothing, that he had something to fall back on to remember himself, if no one else did. Then, as she turns the pages, loose pieces begin to fall out. The first one she picks up again knocks the wind out of her a little.

She’s looking at her own face, sketched clumsily in blue ink. He’s not the most articulate artist — the eyes are uneven, the light seems to be coming from all directions, and not a shadow or crease in the clothes visible — but the light strokes of the pen, the careful curve of her nose and every stray hair, speaks volumes. Signed, dated, and labelled with her name, he has captured a moment she can’t remember at all. More loose sheets contain faces of friends, Frank, Reyna, Gwen, Bobby, Dakota — it goes on, and on. The sketches get better the closer they get to his last visit. She makes more appearances, as do their new friends. She gets misty eyed over drawings of Leo and Piper, passages written about Festus and how to repair him, just the way Leo taught them in case he couldn’t do it himself.

The margins are full of birthdays, important dates, minute sketches of New Rome and Camp Halfblood, flashes of scenes from quests. He has not travelled far, and the places he has been allowed were chained to danger. But to anyone who had not known Jason, it read like a How To Remember Your Friends guide. Like a memoir. He’d even kept all the little notes that they had traded in senate meetings, wedged in between loose sheets and sometimes glued to the pages. He’d kept the ridiculous drawings as if they were precious photos. It’s getting harder and harder to keep a straight face.

The last piece she picks off the floor is an old drawing of Thalia. She’d recognise the face anywhere, even with Jason’s haphazard drawing; blue eyes overlined so vividly, the blue ink had seeped through to the other side of the page, the hair an inky splash, and freckles dotted across a rakish grin. It was not signed, or dated, but it had one sentence scratched across so messily, he must have written it in a fit of something.

She’s real, his writing reads. She’s real, her name is Thalia Grace. She’s not imaginary. I’m not the only one. My sister is real.

Something wet splatters on the page, and the ink bleeds blue down Thalia’s face. Hazel forgets to clean the rest of the desk, forgets she is surrounded by scraps of paper, and dust, and cobwebs. She sits on Jason’s chair, rests her head on her arms, and bawls.

——————————

Waiting for Nico to appear sends her back to her first days at Camp Jupiter. Hazel doesn’t know if she’ll see him, if he’ll warn her of an absence or a visit. Today of all days, she does not blame him for hiding a little. They grieve the same loss in different ways, but she needs her brother here, too. She needs the reassurance, and the understanding, and the presence to prove to her she’s not on her own.

Just like in old times, when her stomach is in knots about Nico not showing up, it’s a Grace who approaches her with a kind hand on her shoulder. But when Hazel turns to face Thalia, her heart leaps to her throat.

Thalia looks like she’s been quietly rusting the past few days. Pale, shoulders slack, her hair dripping down her face. She is not wearing her circlet, her eyes look bloodshot and grey. If someone told her that grief could rob a soul of it’s immortality, Hazel would have believed it from just one look at Thalia.

But there she stood, with a strained smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, looking through Hazel.

‘You wanted to see me?’

Suddenly, Hazel feels like this is the worst idea she’s ever had. Jason’s sketchbook sits heavy in her bag, weighing her thoughts down until there is no room for words to form. All she can think to say is how are you, but it is the silliest question in the world right now.

‘I did,’ she sits as she speaks, gently prompting Thalia to do the same.

Thalia remains standing for an awkward minute, wondering perhaps if Hazel has worse news for her. She seems to decide it isn’t possible, and sits, avoiding eye contact all the while.

‘Will you be leaving soon?’ ‘Don’t know. We have some business to attend to while we’re here,’ Thalia’s voice is brittle, too.

Hazel has seen every sign of crying except the tears, and she can’t help but wince internally at how similar that was to Jason. The closest she’d ever come to seeing Jason weep was the night he had told her about Mount Othrys, and even then, he had held his composure for her sake. He did not like to make others feel obligated to comfort him, and she understood. If Thalia was anything like that...

‘You can’t take a few days off?’ Thalia makes a noise that might have passed as a laugh. ‘Hunters don’t get sick days, Levesque.’

It’s eerie. He’d almost said the same. Praetors don’t take sick days.

They fall into silence. Hazel wishes Nico would appear soon, so that someone who knew Thalia better could deliver the book. So someone who knew Thalia better could handle the fallout. So someone who knew Thalia better could talk about her brother, and not make Hazel feel stupid for ever thinking of Jason as her own family, when Thalia had more right to cry and scream and break down than she did.

But that didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel fair. And the anger hits Hazel as soon as she’s thought it. If rifling through that sketchbook had shown her anything, it was that Jason had been as desperate for family all his life, as she had been desperate to not feel alone when she reached camp, too. Nico and Thalia could come and go as they pleased, but Jason and Hazel — they had been the ones left behind, they had been the ones to pick each other up again. They had been the ones to reach their hands out, with every fear of rebuke and rejection, to any other lonely soul who might be in need.

Just as she starts to think, I should keep the book myself, Thalia sighs.

‘If I don’t do my job, someone else suffers,’ she says, after a long pause. ‘What would I do with my days off, anyway?’

To this, Hazel has no answer.

‘Are you taking any days off?’ Thalia continues, finally turning to look at her. ‘No. I... I can’t,’ ‘Why not? He’s like a brother to you, too.’

Again, her eyes prickle. A lump in her throat makes it hard to speak for a few more seconds, and in lieu of an answer, Hazel reaches a shaking hand towards Thalia’s. Thalia squeezes her fingers back weakly, and sniffs.

Slowly, Hazel reaches into her bag, and draws the sketchbook out. It feels heavier than anything she’s ever held before, but she holds it tightly, for fear that a second of slack grip would send all the pages flying into the air, never to be seen again. Gingerly holding it in her lap, she pulls the hand holding Thalia’s to rest on the cover.

‘What is that?’ ‘It’s Jason’s,’ immediately, as Hazel says it, Thalia stiffens. ‘We used to draw together, now and again, when he had time. He, um. He kept a lot of the things I drew for him, and — and drew some of his own,’

Thalia is looking at the book as if it’s going to bite her, but before she can pull her fingers loose, Hazel closes her hand over them, too soft to constrain, but quick enough that Thalia might understand it as a plea to hold on.

With a shaking voice, Hazel finishes. ‘I want you t — I think you should have it.’

‘What am I going to do with it?’ The rasp in her voice tells Hazel she might cry, or yell. Maybe both. Both might be good for her, for Hazel, too. ‘Look at it. On your days off,’ Hazel offers. ‘Look at it now.’ ‘I can’t. I didn’t even know he liked to draw,’ ‘That doesn’t matter,’

She peels the cover open, blinking furiously to ward away any tears, and lets Thalia try. When she doesn’t move, when Hazel can hear her breathing become difficult and tight, she turns the pages for her, shows her the friends and adventures scribbled there, the notes, the reminders. Her hands shake as she shows Thalia all the drawings of her, her eyes begin to blur.

‘He loved you so much. It doesn’t matter if you didn’t know this about him, he’d have wanted you to have it,’ her voice cracks, at long last. ‘He barely knew me at the start and he loved me, he wouldn’t have cared if — if you didn’t —’

Thalia’s hands on her face, wiping away her tears, are what alert her to the fact she’s crying. Through her hazy vision, she can make out Thalia’s stony expression, fighting valiantly to not break. How like Jason; these are the habits of someone unaccustomed to having the space and permission to feel. She was no older than Hazel, something she remembers with another swoop of pain — Thalia had died at thirteen, too. She understood the gravity of a second chance, and now the pain of having that blessing tainted by loss, by grief, by danger.

Before she knows it, Thalia has pulled her into a hug, one arm tight around her shoulders, the other hand at the back of her head. She lets Thalia hold onto her, until it feels like she is being leaned on in turn, until she hears the quiet shudder of a sob that gets louder and more heartbroken.

The book, still in Hazel’s clutches and pressed to her front, is forgotten and unimportant for the moment. But when this is over, she knows Thalia will take it. When this is over, Nico will come home to Hazel. Tyson will go home to Percy. The cohorts and cabins in both camps will close in on their loved ones, and Thalia will vanish into the wilderness with nothing but this book, and it will be all she has of him. Paper, ink, a leather back that will slowly but surely break apart over the years as it’s yanked open to bring Jason back to life, for a moment or two.

Hazel holds Thalia until her sobs subside to a tremor, and thinks, maybe, she doesn’t have to be alone. Maybe after this, when this is all over, Thalia will visit, they’ll get donuts, and pore over the book together. Maybe she’ll teach Thalia to draw, and they’ll draw together. That would have to wait — for now, she will make do with the comfort she is being offered and has the chance to give back. She’ll hold onto Thalia, and Thalia will hold onto her, and as he should have been there in person, Jason was there between them, with his family.

#jason grace #hazel levesque #thalia grace #drabbles #This was a rush job but god was I angry #Mostly about Reyna but #I'm saving THAT rage for a better fic.#this isn't proofread at all oh gosh

932 notes · View notes

4brrrr · 4 years

Photo

Real

They were trainees then, young but not naive. They were well-aware of the challenges life would constantly throw at them once they cross the wide one-way bridge that connects the life of a normal adult to the life of an entertainer. There's no turning back, they knew. Even so, they were determined to take the risk and stepped forward.

The bridge shook. It was not an easy journey for the both of them.

Byulyi was asked to choose between losing weight or giving up on her dreams. Yongsun, on the other hand had to audition for multiple companies.

Eventually, as they continued to cross the unstable path to their desired goal, they met each other. They walked, hand-in-hand, as their other hands gripped on the railings on their opposite sides, making their journey a bit more stable now that they have each other.

They debuted, surprisingly, in the same group along with a cute dimpled girl and a fierce-looking baby.

Mamamoo–that's what they're called.

They were a group destined to lead the younger generations to a more open space. They were a group that screamed for equality, inspiring people from different age groups.

Byulyi and Yongsun, they were closer than ever. They grew to be the support of one another. They silently vowed to protect or at least be there for the other as much as they could, knowing that things are going to be a bit harder than before.

It all started from the warm gazes the two unconciously send to each other. It was noticeable to anyone around them making it a normal occurrence that someone asks them if they were dating, which, of course, they answered no.

They weren't. They were best friends.

(Yongsun watched in adoration as the younger girl twirled around the practice room, playfully dancing along with the maknaes. Her hair flowed at every movement of her body as she moved along the beat, making up the silliest dances but, somehow, still managing to look as graceful as ever.

Her gaze fell on her smile, travelling to her cheek dimples. She admired how her nose scrunches when she laughed too much. She had been there when she cried about it, engulfing her in a warm embrace as the younger's sobs were muffled on her shoulder. She didn't understand how someone would even have the heart to tell her not to smile too much because "it looked ugly". No, it was adorable.

Her thoughts were rudely interrupted when Byulyi called for her.

"Yeba, stop standing in a corner and get your ass over here!"

She feigned a scoff, bringing her hand to her face to hide her reddened cheeks as she made her way towards the group.)

Apart from the weird feelings that seemed to grow as they spent more time in the presence of one another, they knew they were nothing but close friends.

Years later, they've become a bit more aware of their feelings, noticing the smallest things the other is able to make them feel. Byulyi noticed the way her heart seemed to skip a beat whenever her hand brushes with Yongsun's as they walk through the street leading to their company building. Yongsun noticed the way every weird quirks of the younger girl seemed to make her smile.

They noticed the way they longed for each other's presence more than they should whenever they had to spend the day apart.

With their years of friendship, they were comfortable enough to not bother covering up what they felt for each other, fully knowing that their feelings were reciprocated. Byulyi openly showed Yongsun affection, which the older didn't mind. They would also come over to each other's house (which, at the end of the day, always end up with one of them sleeping over) off-days.

It's one of those days wherein the rapper decided to come over to Yongsun's apartment telling the older she was bored as an excuse for her want to, once again, admire her in her casual home attire. It felt a bit more natural… and domestic, she thought.

Funny, though, how Yongsun was the one captivated by the younger girl's seemingly perfect features.

(They were sitting across each other, Byulyi's eyes on the kimchi fried rice Yongsun has made for her just earlier on as she ranted about random stuff the older was barely even paying attention to. She was too distracted by the way the younger's brows seemed to furrow as she talked about her worries about her pet corgi getting a little bit fatter.

"It's unhealthy." She heard her grumble, a small pout beginning to form on her lips.

The more she stared the more she wanted to blurt out the words she's been meaning to say all these time. And she did.

"Let's date."

"Daeba-Huh?"

"You and me. Let's date.")

Byulyi remembered secluding herself from her family and friends, locking herself up in her room for weeks. She never went out unless she needed to restock her cup noodles and beer she had been living off to since the day after her nasty break up.

It was until her youngest sister, then 5 years old, grabbed her hand when she was about to enter the dimmed space, pulling her into a tight hug and burying her face into Byulyi's stomach. She sobbed, croaking out the words "Unnie, I miss you. Do you hate me? Why won't you play with me anymore?"

She realized, she needed to pull herself together. She needed to move on.

So when those two words left Yongsun's mouth, she didn't know what to do. She was elated, yet hesitant. In the end, she decided, maybe taking a risk for the second time isn't that bad.

Byulyi and Yongsun have been dating for a year now and the younger woman was more than happy. She never once regretted the decision she had made.

(They were currently sitting on a nearby bench, taking a short break from their so-called "friendly" date as they ate their ice cream in comfortable silence.

Byulyi's fingers gently slipped through Yongsun's, giving her hand a light squeeze as if to say "I love you" which the older responded to by rubbing circles at the back of her palm. Byulyi stared at their joined hands, smiling contently as she went back to eating her ice cream.)

Friends. It was what they have agreed on dubbing themselves in order to avoid the unwanted attention of the public. It was going well until now.

Byulyi was back in her dimmed bedroom, heart pounding hard against her ribcage as she scrolled through all the negative comments aimed at her and her lover.

"Disgusting lesbians! Get the fuck out of our country."

"Bet you a thousand they're doing this for attention."

"This is why I never stanned Mamamoo ughhh ew"

"LMAOOOOO another problematic shit done by the so-called 'queens'"

It was a huge slip-up on her side.

(There is nothing more relaxing for Byulyi than being at her favorite place with her favorite person. Byulyi watched Yongsun's lashes flutter close as the latter took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh scent of nature. It was evening. Yongsun was standing by the railings of the bridge overlooking the Han River, with bright colored lights contributing to the romantic atmosphere. It was picture perfect.

Yongsun opened her eyes, a wide smile painted on her lips as she stared at the beautiful view before her. It made her happy, knowing that she could spend this time with Byulyi between their hectic schedules.

Seeing Yongsun's eyes twinkle in excitement, cheeks flushed red making them look more like a mochi, Byulyi couldn't stop herself. She gently took Yongsun's head into her hand, softly carressing her cheeks and eventually leaning in for a kiss.)

Tears slid down her cheek at the memory. Who would've known a beautiful moment would be the cause of the downfall of both their relationship and career?

She had always wished for their relationship to last longer. She was contented being with her, and was willing to stay through sadness and joy even though not being able to proudly show off their relationship to the public pains her. It could not be helped, being a public figure in a conservative country such as South Korea. Even so, she was willing to hide if it means being able to be together with Yongsun. Though, life does not always play by our rules. That's the reality.

Just as the thought came across her mind, she heard a familiar ding, signaling a new message from her other half. Her hand shook as she attempted to reach for her phone. She pressed the power button, expecting for the worst case scenario. She was right.

"Let's break up."

Yeah. It was for the best.

Also posted on twt and aff -> @teddehber

53 notes · View notes

kumeko · 3 years

Photo

A/N: For the Sylvgrid Big Bang! I wanted to write something fantasy-esque, since I’ve always loved the genre, and with a slight homage to a series I’ve loved for a long time. I might(?) add more chapters later on (I have a general idea for the next section). I was originally planning for this to be like…5k max, and now it’s 8k and counting. Perhaps I too can write chaptered fics.

You should check out @ oclear0 on twitter for their amazing piece for the fic!

…

Leaning out her window, Ingrid took a deep breath of the sweet, clean air. Well, mostly sweet. The countryside wasn’t the countryside without the occasional pungent whiff of manure. As Annette drove down narrow, dirt lanes, humming some silly ditty or the other, Ingrid quietly observed her surroundings.

She had expected Ireland to be cramped. Back when they were in university together in Toronto, it was the number one thing Annette couldn’t get over. Canada was big. The United States was big. You could drive for hours without reaching another town. At the time, Ingrid had thought her quirky roommate was exaggerating things, but now that she was here…

Well, she understood. Highways merged in and out of small towns seamlessly, and what should have been an hour journey at most took hours because of local traffic. The distance between places was tiny; she still couldn’t believe that another country was only a stone’s throw away. Even tinier were the cars, the roads, the houses, the people.

Well, person. Ingrid grinned as she averted her gaze from the blurring countryside and turned back to her old roommate. Annette’s nose scrunched as she concentrated on her driving, looking as though she was about to fight a war or argue with Lysithea instead of just driving down a nearly empty road. “You know, Lysithea’s taller than you now.”

“She’s what?” Annette gaped, tearing her eyes from the road to stare at her for a long minute. Like a fish, she opened and closed her mouth a few times. “Seriously?”

The car shook slightly as they went through a pothole and she quickly focused on the road.

“It’s not by much,” Ingrid consoled, chuckling. Back in university, Lysithea and Annette had been competitive over everything. Well, it might have been more one-sided on Annette’s part; just like her fiery red hair, she got caught up in her emotions sometimes. Still, Lysithea had crowed over her height the second she’d noticed, and maybe it had been more mutual than Ingrid had ever realized.

“If yer lyin’…” Annette warned. Her Irish lilt was more noticeable now that she was back home and maybe it’d take a few years before it would be impossible to tell what she was saying when she was angry. “I’ll tell Mercie you want a makeover.”

“That…” Ingrid swallowed at the thought of her old schoolmate. Despite appearing to be the ‘Mom-friend’ of the group, Mercedes had been surprisingly aggressive and persistent when it came to getting her way. Such as wanting them to all dress up for any parties she hosted.

Ingrid could solidly claim that she had memorized the steps to putting on makeup because of that. Which had come in handy during her job interviews, but she would never admit that aloud.

Instead, she asked, “How’s she liking Ireland?”

“Oh, she loves it sure!” Annette giggled, a happy blush spreading across her cheeks as she thought about her long-term girlfriend. “Everyone loves herself and she’s even got a job at the local pub on her. We’re goin’ wait like, an hour, for her shift t’ end, but then we can head on home. You good for that? Or do you need sleep?”

“Slept enough on the plane.” Ingrid rubbed her neck. It might not have been the most comfortable sleep, but it was more than enough to fight off the jetlag for now. “Though I wouldn’t say no to a shower.”

“You definitely smell like it, sure,” Annette teased in a sing-song voice and Ingrid had a bad feeling about what the subject of her next song would be.

Ingrid huffed, crossing her arms. “I wasn’t on the plane that long.”

“Airplane breath—”

“Annette!” Ingrid growled, blocking her ears before she could hear the rest. The worst thing about Annette’s ditties was how catchy they were. Sure, they were the silliest things on the planet, but once they were in your head, they didn’t get out easily.

And she really didn’t want to unconsciously hum about how stinky she felt.

Laughing, Annette poked her arm. “I give, I give. But yeah, Merce’s friends with everyone now. She’s even has my grandparents wrapped around her finger.”

Giving Annette a suspicious look, Ingrid lowered her hands. “That’s not surprising.”

It was impossible to hate Mercedes. That was a scientific fact.

“They all say her accent is sexy,” Annette added, sounding mildly traumatized. “And I think my mum likes herself more than me.”

Ingrid smiled wryly. “Don’t you like her accent too?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s because it’s funny, sure.” Annette turned the wheel, taking a sharp right at the next intersection. It was a paved road now and the empty countryside slowly melted into a more crowded city. “And I don’t want t’ know what my grandparents think is sexy.”

It took Ingrid a whole minute to process that. Horrified, she shrank into her seat, staring at Annette with wide eyes. “Your grandparents?”

There were some things you couldn’t unhear, and that was one of them.

-x-

Ballyvaughan was small. Not small in a ‘small town’ kinda way, but small in a ‘tiny, you could fit everyone into a banquet hall’ way. There were less than 300 people in the whole town. Ingrid was certain that she had more people in one of her first-year classes in university.

That meant it was immediately obvious that she was a stranger the second she went anywhere. Even before she spoke a word, people asked if she was “Annette’s American friend—not that girlfriend, but th’ other one.”

And then a few jabs and sly winks about how “Annette sure likes ‘em big for such a tiny girl.”

Considering that her own family were the most uptight people she’d ever met, Ingrid wasn’t sure if she was jealous for such easy (if nosey, clearly wrong, and a little creepy) acceptance, or if she was just glad that her grandparents never did more than just pinch cheeks.

Judging by how hard Annette sputtered from each of these remarks, a lifetime of hearing them wasn’t enough to get used to it.

“It’s a nice place,” Ingrid said, slipping back into Annette’s compact car. They’d explored enough of the town’s hub; she wasn’t sure if Annette could take it anymore. If she could take it anymore. It was better just to wait for Mercedes in the parking lot. “I can’t believe you know so many people.”

“It’s a small town and they’re all busybodies.” Annette groaned, resting her forehead on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry. They’re all really excited and no one knows what t’ say and—” She broke into an unintelligible sound.

“It’s fine.” Ingrid patted her back gingerly.

“I really do love it here and they’re all really nice people and I love ‘em but…” Annette lifted her head, resting her chin on the steering wheel. “They’re all too much sometimes. It was so nice and quiet when we lived together. Just the two of us.”

“I remember Mercedes staying over quite a bit,” she added wryly. Curious, she asked, “Is your house crowded?” Annette had often spoken of her extended family, a chain of aunts, uncles, and cousins that had enough characters to fill a book.

“Kinda. I mean, mum and pap live there, and both sets of grandparents. My aunt sometimes stays when she’s fighting with her husband, sure. It’s crowded, and a little awkward sometimes. Especially because of sex—” Annette bit her tongue, flushing a bright red that could rival her hair.

Ingrid felt her skin burn too and she looked away.

Clearing her throat, Annette continued like nothing had happened. “ANYWAYS, there’s a lotta us. So mum insisted we’d get the place remodeled so there’s enough space. They’re all staying with my aunts and uncles until it’s done, while we have the run of the house for ourselves.”

“Oh.” Ingrid nodded, pressing her cold hands to her neck as she tried to keep her voice even. “That’s good.”

A rapping noise interrupted them and Ingrid had never been more grateful for a break in the conversation. “Who—”

Without warning, her door yanked open and two arms wrapped around her tightly, half-pulling her out of her seat. “Ingrid!”

It took all of Ingrid’s reflexes to turn her head so she wouldn’t die of suffocation. Mercedes hugs were as tight as ever and she gasped, “It’s good to see you too.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” Mercedes squeezed her again. “Did I keep you waiting?”

“Mercie!” Annette leaned over, scrambling over the car seat as she tried and failed to pry open her girlfriend’s arms. “Yer killing herself.”

“Oh.” Mercedes looked down and relaxed her grasp. “Oh sorry, I can’t have that.”

“It’s…” Ingrid panted, chest heaving as she tried to get some oxygen. “Fine…”

Patting her head, Mercedes coddled her. “Oh, you poor dear. You look so exhausted—let’s get you back to our place for some food and rest.”

“That…sounds…good,” Ingrid breathed, certain that her state was more due to Mercedes than anything else. “I’ll…move…back…”

“It’s fine, you stay here.” Mercedes poked her head into the car, pressing a chaste kiss on Annette’s cheek before stepping out. “I’ll sit in the back and you can tell me everything.”

Her hand curled on her chest, crumpling her shirt as she slowly calmed down. “Everything?”

“Everything,” Mercedes insisted, sliding into the backseat. “Starting with darling Lysithea’s height.”

Annette spluttered. “Mercie!”

#sylvgrid #mercette #sylvain jose gautier #ingrid brandl galatea #fire emblem three houses #Annette Fantine Dominic #mercedes von martritz #i spent five minutes trying to find the mercedes/annette ship name #they took over the first half of the fic #fanfic

2 notes · View notes

sweetwritertanya · 4 years

Text

Sing With You (Part 2)

Summary: Much to your disbelief, you were actually recording a song with the boy you had the biggest crush on since you found out about him. Always so professional and friendly, you learn that Jungkook had been keeping a secret… that changes everything.

Warnings: this is pure FLUFF. Nothing to worry.

REQUESTED: YES! Someone requested a part 2, so here it is! Also, FYI, if you ever want a sequel to one of my writings, feel free to ask. But if you want it with smut, tell me or I’m gonna assume you mean fluff. Anyway, hope the person who requested this likes it!

Word Count: 2342

It took him a week to actually reach out. You had already accepted that nothing was going to happen, why would Jungkook be so interested in singing with you? He had lots of other female artists he could collaborate with, more famous and prettier than you, surely.

But when you received a text from an unknown number saying it was Jungkook, asking if you were serious about the proposal he made the night of the charity event, you shrieked and threw your phone to your bed. You were so amazed that he was actually texting you about it.

Regaining composure, you texted him back that you’d be honored to collab with him and were willing to work around each other’s schedules to make it work.

It started very professional, with both of you reaching out to your labels, explaining the situation. No opposition was lifted from any sides, and the collaboration seemed to have a green light. You had an ever present grin on your face as you texted back and forth with Jungkook, trying to come up with a theme and ideas for the song, voice memos with melodies going back and forth.

A few weeks after, though, you found yourself talking to him about things completely unrelated to work, telling him about your day and the new visions you had for your next album. In return, he would tell you about his day also, about the schedule he had and even about his mistakes and short-comings he struggled with. Something you always comforted him about, knowing he was very hard on himself, a lot more than he should.

When he started texting you jokes and memes just for the laughs, that’s when you realized that you may be developing more than a professional relationship with the boy. Maybe, just maybe, he actually wanted to be friends. And your heart skipped a beat at the thought, your smile so wide it hurt your face.

Those thoughts changed, however, on the first day of recording for the song. He invited you to go and record with him on his studio, even offering for Yoongi to listen to the first draft of the song and see what he thought, maybe improving some things you and your team were missing.

The producers that were recording both you and Jungkook on the studio informed you they would take a fifteen minute break, going downstairs to grab a coffee. It was just you and the boy on the recording booth.

“I think this is going so well!” you exclaimed, feeling so happy you were basically jumping in place with joy. Jungkook found it adorable and couldn’t help but smile lovingly at your enthusiasm.

“Can’t wait to hear how it will sound when we’re done” he shared your passion.

“Yeah…” You bite your bottom lip, eyes shifting to your hands, paying with your fingers nervously as you considered if you should say what was on your mind. Jungkook tilted his head at you, curious about what made you shift in mood. “You know, I haven’t said this already because I thought it was obvious, but… Thank you, Jungkook. For asking me to sing with you. For being so patient during this chaotic process. And for being so friendly with me. I never thought, in a million years, that I would ever befriend someone like you. So, thank you.”

You gazed up at him and he was staring strangely at you, a lost look behind his chocolate eyes, making you blush and regret saying anything, for now you were embarrassed and had no idea how to behave. You settled for turning your back and pretending you had somewhere to go to.

“I… I’m going to get coffee too. Do you want something? I can bring your order up if-”

As you were about to reach the door, a hand curled around your wrist, pulling you away from your exit. His hand was not forceful, even shaking slightly as you turned back to him, uneasy eyes slowly raising up to set on his. He winced almost imperceptibly under your shy gaze, being his turn to avoid direct eye-contact with you. He was chewing at the side of his cheek, a guilty expression on his beautiful face, and you knew something was up.

“Y/N, I… I h-have to confess s-something” he murmurs, letting go of your wrist and shoving his hands on his pockets, still not looking at you but rather at your feet. “I d-don’t want to be friends. I never w-wanted to be friends.”

Your heart breaks right then and there, like someone just drilled a hole right through it, your eyes filling with unshed tears at the pain. You stopped breathing, afraid that any movement would only increase the pain that was threatening to break you.

“Oh… That’s fine” you lie in a whisper, your voice betraying you and whimpering a bit. “W-We’ll just finish this song and go on our ways. Don’t worry, I won’t b-bother you.”

He looks up at that, frowning with confusion until he sees your watery eyes and realizes what he said. Immediately his confusion turns into panic and he gasps, raising his hands in front of him, as if trying to stop the whole situation from continuing.

“NO! N-no, that’s not what I mean” he yells, anxious and growling in frustration with himself, scratching heavily the side of his neck. “I meant to say, I don’t want to be just friends. I, I like you, Y/N.”

You watched with parted lips and wide eyes as Jungkook’s cheeks and ears turned a bright red, his eyes glancing everywhere except at you, shifting his feet nervously. You weren’t sure you heard him correctly, the pain you were just feeling still too fresh for you to hang on to hope.

“I-If you don’t like m-me, that’s okay” he started to say, hurt evident in his tone. Reality seemed to hit you all at once and you took a deep breath, bringing your hands to your open lips, still in disbelief of what was happening.

“Please don’t play with me” you ask, shaking your head as you stared at the awkward boy in front of you.

“I’m not” he insisted, frowning his eyebrows, feeling slightly offended you thought he would. He was about to say something else, probably out of frustration, but you stopped him.

“Because I like you too. But if you’re just messing with me, this is really not funny.”

In complete awe, you saw as the facial featured of his attractive face changes before your eyes. His frowning eyebrows rose in his forehead, dark big eyes widening brightly as he finally set his gaze on yours, no nervousness behind them, the cheeks rising as his lips curled up in the sunniest, cutest, most angelic looking smile you had ever seen.

“You like me?” he asked in a whisper.

“Yes. Very much” you confessed back, as lowly as he did.

Before you knew what was happening, two arms enveloped you in the warmest of embraces, squeezing your back close to his chest, his head falling to the crook of your neck as he spanned you around for a moment, extracting the silliest giggles out of you.

“Oh, thank God!” he exclaimed, still holding your close as he settled you down, but raising his head just enough so you could stare at each other. “I thought I made a mistake telling you. You got me so scared for a moment, Y/N” he admonished you.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t like you back?” you questioned tilting your head, bravely lifting your arms to surround his waist and keeping him close. You still could not believe this was happening.

“Well, I hoped you did. I mean, I’ve been flirting with you since the beginning and you never hinted me to stop, so…” he explained, but you frowned at that.

“Flirting? When did you flirt?” You truly had no idea what he was talking about.

“All the time. The jokes I told you, the compliments I gave you, the voice memos of me singing for you, they were all me flirting.”

“I thought you were just being friendly! And the singing was about the song we are making, how is that flirting?” You chuckled as he touched the tip of his nose to yours, making you blush slightly. At least he was blushing too.

“I never said I was good at flirting” he offered as an elucidation. “But I am good at this.”

And that’s when he lowers his head down, still holding you in a warm hug, and pressed his soft lips against yours, in the softest, sweetest and quickest of kisses. It gave you a brief electric shook and your heart skipped a beat at the gesture. When he pulls back, he sees you smile up at him shyly and he smiles too, taking your breath away even before he came down to repeat the movement.

With a bit more pressure and precision, his lips are on yours and move ever so tenderly, making you sight into the kiss and lean more into him, not sure if you’re strong enough to keep your legs steady. You kiss him back and his hands pull you that much closer to him, even though your bodies were already as close as they could get.

“J-Jungkook” you call as you come up for air, though he continues pecking all over your face, barely acknowledging your warning tone in your voice. “Hey, the producers will come back any minute now” you remind him. He humms into your skin, making you tremble underneath his finger at the feeling.

“They said fifteen minutes. We have about ten minutes left” he says, continuing the peck in your jaw. It was really difficult to be logical when he was so close, living such lovely kisses on your skin, his aromatic woody smell numbing your brain.

“W-We should be careful, Jungkook” you tell him, stepping a bit away to get your senses back together. He was way too intoxicating.

You hear him sigh sadly and look up to see his adorable pout in his lips, brows coming close with frustration. This man had the unique ability of being sexy and adorable at the same time.

“But I wanted to kiss you for so long…” he complains, tugging at your hand, trying to pull you back in. You giggle and get close on your tippy-toes to kiss his cheek instead, to which he both whimpers and smiles.

“Take me on a date and I’ll let you kiss me for however long you want” you assured him.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” His energy levels almost triplicate at such a promise from you, and he is all wide eyes and big smiles the rest of the day.

He made sure you kept your word on every single date he took you in, reassigning every free time he had on his schedule to be spent with you, even if only over calls or video-chat. He was the sweetest, most caring boyfriend you could ever ask for and the novelty of the relationship never seemed to wear off as the months kept passing by.

Rumors were starting to spread about you two, no matter how private you both tried to keep it. Ever since you released your collab song, that turned out to be a major hit, people had been shipping you two and any time you two were even in the same building gave away for articles to surface. You were a bit worried at first, but Jungkook never looked bothered by it.

A year into the relationship, you two were scheduled to, for the first time ever, sing your song together on stage. It was something you were so excited for, not only because you never got to sing with Jungkook for your fans live before, but also because you had not seen him for two weeks and were missing him like crazy.

You were on one side of the stage while he was on the other, and when you saw him you jumped in place and waved widely in his direction, making him smile and wave just as enthusiastically back. For once, you were not nervous about going on stage. All you had in your mind was Jungkook.

The song started and you both walked on stage, the fans yelling so loudly you could barely hear the music on your ear-piece, but you didn’t care. You sang with all the passion and feeling you could muster, your gaze never wondering too far from Jungkook’s, who was staring right back at you while he sang.

You reached up to hold his hand on the last bridge of the song, which he then took and made you spin around a couple of times, making you giggle while you sang, but you never missed a note. He then pulled you in and you were chest to chest, his hand on your lower back keeping you close while he held the microphone with his free hand. You were holding your microphone with both hands on top of his chest, feeling right at home when surrounded by was warmth and scent.

The song ended and both of you lowered your microphones, you smiling warmly at him and him looking at you with such love you felt like melting. And you almost did, when he suddenly pulled you in for a kiss a second before the lights went out on stage.

The crowd went wild but you zoned out everything except for the feeling of Jungkook, kissing him back with as much passion as he was kissing you, arms raising around his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.

You would only be confirming what hundreds of magazines and news reports were speculating already. Maybe going public would be a good decision after all. Jungkook didn’t seem to mind. And that performance would forever be the most well-known performance of your whole career. And you were so fine with that.

#bts #bts x reader #jungkook #jeon jungguk #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #bts jeon jungguk #bts fluff #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts imagine #fluff #request

113 notes · View notes