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cuddlesslut · 3 years

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Part Eight: Hope

Atsumu x fem reader , Suna x fem Reader, Hinata x Fem reader

A/N: I’m so sorry it took so long to put out this chapter I’m gunna try to do better on posting faster. I’ve had a lot of stuff happening irl. I love see so many of your write in for the poll 😂 I did not expect Sakusa to pop off! I hope y’all like this chapter. Again it’s still kind of short but I wanted to get it posted. Also you can’t convince me Hinata doesn’t use an all in one cleanser!

Warning: crude language, not much angst, some fluff.

Part Seven: Regrets

Hinata stared at his phone questioning whether he should message you again. It had been four days since you ran out of his apartment. You had yet to respond to any of his texts. As concerned as he is he knows no good will come from spamming you. Although he wants nothing more than for you too talk to him. He was so confused where you both stood. But he was sure of one thing, and that was that things couldn’t go back to the way they were before. He can’t go back to pushing down his feelings and pretending he doesn’t want to be more. That he didn’t want to call you his and show you off to the world. To take you out on dates try new experiences and make memories with you. He can’t keep acting like he doesn’t dream of waking up to you in his arms every morning. He wants to be there with you every step in life and support you no matter what. He wants to show you that you are the most amazing woman he’s ever known. As much as the sex is amazing it’s not worth holding back anymore. He knows you may still not be ready for a relationship and he wouldn’t think about pressuring you into one after how horribly your last ended, he’d gladly wait for you to be ready but he has to be honest with his feelings instead of torturing himself.

The sound of his alarm snapped him out of his daze. Time to get ready for practice, he groaned pulling himself from the comfort of his bed before heading to the shower to start his day. He shuffled in the bathroom hooking up his phone to his Bluetooth speaker starting up with morning playlist beginning his morning routine. He loved jamming in the shower. He turned the water on letting the heat build as he brushed his teeth before climbing into the steaming shower bopping his head to the beat of silhouette by Kana-boon having to refrain himself from attempting to naruto running in the slippery bath. He stood there for a moment enjoying the heat hitting his back and loosening his muscles. Losing himself in the music as he grabbed his three in one, body wash, shampoo and conditioner. He scrubbed his hair and body screaming the lyrics to the next song. “Sawaras nai kimi wa shojo wa na no Boku wa yarichinbitchi no osu da yo !!,” he was jamming out when the song was interrupted by the sound of a notification. He thought nothing of it figuring it was just Bokuto-San. When the chimes continue his curiosity won out as he peeked out passed the curtain still covered in bubbles to see who was spamming his phone. His eyes grew wide as he saw your name lighting up his notifications. He rushed for his phone loosing his balance and slamming the shower wall to keep himself from falling on his ass as he scrambled out still dripping and soapy as he stood in bathroom unlocking his phone.

YN-Chan 🧡: Hey Shoyo

YN-Chan🧡: you’re usually up by now so I thought I’d message you to say I’m soo soo sorry for how I ran out the other day.

YN-Chan🧡: honestly I should have messaged you days ago but I’ve just been dealing with a lot . It’s no excuse but still I’m sorry.

YN-Chan 🧡: look I totally understand if you don’t want talk to me after how I acted but if you do I was hoping we could get together and talk?

Hinata could see the text bubble at the bottom showing she was typing but he wasted no time pulling up the call button needing to here your voice. It rang two times before connecting. His heart clinched hearing your soft hello.

“Hey Sho,” you answered.

“Hey there YN-Chan,” he greeted back.

He could here a sense of nervousness in your tone. “Hey sorry if interrupted anything.” He realized how hard he was breathing from excitement and from nearly dying trying to escape his shower.

“Oh no no, its fine I wasn’t busy,” he feigned nonchalance. There was a beat of silence as you both searched for words.

“Umm you had said you wanted to talk?” He questioned. He was really concerned for why you ran off that day.

“Oh yeah but I’d much rather talk in person, is there anyway we could get together soon I understand if you’re busy,”

“I’m free tonight,” he cursed himself for how desperate he sounded, “uhh do you want to come over tonight?”

You chuckled at his eagerness. “If it’s okay with you maybe we could go out... to like dinner maybe,” his heart froze his mind reeling with excitement you had never gone out before. Always just opting to have food delivered and eating in. He couldn’t help but let his hopes rise.

“I know it’s not what we usually do so I get if you’re uncomfor-”

“I’d love to!” He cuts you off. Not wanting to miss this chance.

“A-awesome um is 7:30 good for you?” You questioned.

“Yep!” He could feeling his heart soaring as the plans started to solidify.

“Great well I’ll message you all of the details later, bye Sho umm I’ll see you tonight.”

“Goodbye YN-Chan, can’t wait!” He heard a small laugh leave your lips before the line disconnected. There is a wide smile spread across his face as leaning against the wall next to him not even upset that his shower water was now starting to run cold.

Hinata’s day was instantly better with thought of seeing you tonight the Idea of having a date with you filled him with joy. Everyone could see the difference in the outside hitter today compared to the last few practices. It’s was like he was in the zone. He was all over the court making the cleanest receives and his spikes were just so on point. It was time for there first water break and stretch. He sat on the bench taking a gulp of water a big smile present on his face when he checks his phone to see a message with a restaurant address. His teammates shared a look at the way the ginger stared at his phone.

“What’s got you so happy Hinata?” Sakusa questioned.

“Yeah Sho you’ve been on fire today plus you won’t stop smiling at your phone!” Bokuto boasted wrapping an arm around his newest teammate.

“That obvious huh?” Hinata grinned. “Well uhh the girl I’ve been talking to wants to go on a date tonight!”

“Oh yeah?” Atsumu smirked “the same girl that’s been marking up yer back recently?” Bokuto and the Setter busted into laughter when Hinata’s faced turned red. Sakusa rolled his eye at the childish behavior.

“Uh haha yeah that’s the one,” he chuckled rubbing the back of his head.

“Well if you’re already fuckin her why are you getting all giddy over a date?” The setter asked

“We’ve actually never been on date before,” Hinata admitted.

“Damn Sho, first date! Why’d you wait so long dude?” Bo wondered.

“Really Hinata-Kun I didn’t take you for the casual sex type,” Sakusa stated

“She’s a friend but I’ve like her pretty much since we met but she’s just not ready for a relationship,” he explains “ she has some bad history but we kept fooling around as friends. I’m so excited cause she asked if I wanted to get dinner so I’m hoping maybe she’s starting to open up to the idea.”

“Ha well good luck then bro,” Bokuto smacked him on the back laughing. The rest of them agreed in the well wishes before the whistle blew signaling the end of their break.

They resumed their intense training. Right now focusing on their serves and some indurance training. The coaches were wearing them out today going over and over drills. Soon enough they were in the locker room showering up a bit and changing as they got ready for their lunch break before they’d have to return to practice. The locker room filled with chatter as they discussed different plays they wanted to work on or where they wanted to grab lunch. There conversation was interrupted when one of the coaching assistants poked their head in.

“Miya-San your fiancé is here to see you, she waiting by the gym entrance.” He stated before turning to leave. All eyes were on the setter when he dropped his phone a look of shock present on his face. His mind was going a mile a minute he was so sure he miss heard the man . There was no way you were here. He stood up rushing to finish getting dressed. There was a pressure in the room he was ignoring some of his teammates sharing a confused look.

“I didn’t know you had a Fiancé Tsumu?” Hinata asked excitedly as the team started following behind the setter.

“That’s because he doesn’t,” Sakusa stated bitterly. Atsumu shot a dirty look back at the wing spiker.

“She left him months ago before you joined the team Shoyo-Kun, she’s are really nice girl though always brought us the best snacks when she’d visit,” Bokuto explained his hungry mind straying as he thought back to her delicious cooking.

“Oh I’m sorry Atsumu,” Hinata apologized.

“Don’t he deserved it,” Sakusa scoffed.

The setter paid no mind to comment there was no point in getting angry with the neat freak he was completely right. It didn’t matter at the moment what mattered was seeing you. He stopped in his tracks when he saw you standing there. You were even more beautiful than he remembered. You were looking at your hands picking at your nails. He could see you were nervous. So was he. What was he supposed to say he knew he owed you an apology and much more but it felt like he couldn’t breath looking at you. You looked up at him your eyes locking. There was a look he couldn’t quite pin point. It wasn’t exactly a look of hated which it was what he expected but it also nothing like the looks of love he used to receive. He didn’t even realize the boys had stopped behind him watching the scene. His eyes only focused on you and nothing else.

That is until he hears a sharp breath from behind him as Hinata called out your name. Bokuto and Sakusa’s eyes snapped to the ginger some confusion present. Atsumu however didn’t look away from you not even when you gaze shifted from the setter to his teammate. This look in your eyes he could distinguish. It was one you used to look at him with. It shattered Atsumu as he realized right then you were the woman Hinata had been talking about. It obvious when he saw a similar look of happiness on Shoyo’s face. It felt like a kick to the gut. An array of emotions swirling through his mind. He was hurt to think you moved on. Disgusted as he thought back to his earlier convo with the man and how they had discussed the scratches on his friends back and now realizing how they were from you. He felt like he was going to puke thinking of his teammate with you in that intimate way. But he knew he had no right to feel this way not after all he put you through so he pushed those emotions deep inside. Returning to the moment.

“Hi Sho,” you gave a small smile as you shuffled nervously in your spot.

“I thought we were getting dinner? We can switched to lunch if you need to tho.” He stated.

Sakusa and Bokutos eyes grew wide finally coming to the same conclusion the setter previously had. Sakusa had to stifle a laugh as Bo muttered “oh shit” under his breath at the awkward situation.

“Um actually Shoyo, I’d still like to get dinner with you. I know this must seem really confusing, and I promise to explain everything tonight, but uhh.. I actually here to see Miya-San.” You explain sheepishly.

Atsumu tried not to flinch at the use of his last name.

You turned to the blonde with a stoic face. “Can we get lunch, we really need to talk.” He nodded not knowing how to use his voice.

You turned back to Hinata with a pleasing look. “I’ll call you later before our date, Sho.” Before turning to leave with Tsumu.

Hinata may be beyond confused right now not yet connecting the dots. But that didn’t matter he couldn’t stop his heart from skipping. Date. It’s a date. He wasn’t overthinking or wishing hopefully. It was an actual date with you! The woman he can’t get out of his mind. And that one little comfort was enough for him to trust the situation as he watched you walk away.

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ptergwen · 3 years

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call me cupid

w/c: 3.5k

warnings: very mild angst and a few swears

summary: despite your hatred for valentine’s day, peter attempts to make you a card

a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves!! i hope y’all get to spend some time with your people today and eat lots of chocolate <3 love you & enjoy mwah

it’s no secret that peter is terrible with words. he gets so flustered he can’t talk or forgets what he wants to say altogether. school presentations are torture. ordering food out is impossible. he’s accepted it at this point, that speaking just isn’t for him.

the one place it doesn’t come across is on paper. peter is ridiculously smart, and he knows all the right words to string together, which is why writing you a valentine should be no trouble at all. should be no trouble at all.

to tell the truth, he’s been sitting at his kitchen table with a blank sheet of paper in front of him for what feels like hours. nothing is coming to him. he’s not sure why this is so hard. you’re his girlfriend, he loves you, he’s said it so many times in every way he could think to. what’s different about it now?

everyone puts way too much pressure on giving the perfect gift when they should really just be enjoying each other’s company on a holiday about love. or, in your words, a meaningless holiday that was created by capitalists as another excuse to take people’s money.

alright, you aren’t too fond of valentine’s day.

it makes anyone who’s single feel like shit and anyone who’s in a relationship lose their shit.

only mj agreed when you shared your criticisms. ned and betty gave you looks like you were insane, and flash muttered something about you being undateable. peter had laughed and swung an arm around your shoulders, but he didn’t fully agree.

although valentine’s day has its flaws, peter likes to see it as twenty four hours of extra appreciation for the people in his life. you can buy chocolate for your friends and family. it doesn’t have to be a significant other, really. him and ned would do it before he had you and ned had betty.

peter wants to remind you how loved you are even if you’re not into the festivities like he is, that bringing him to writing your card. it’s a simple and clinically underrated way of expressing his gratitude. he’d write you love letters every day if he didn’t suck at them.

may comes out of her room to see peter in the same place he’s been since he got home from school. she looks at him through her glasses, smiling as she comes into the room. he’s tapping his pencil on the table, eraser down, searching his mind for anything to write.

“still nothing?” may asks him, making her way over to the cabinets. peter puts down the pencil and sighs. his shoulders slump. “nope. i haven’t gotten past the intro.” “intro, huh?” she teases her newphew and grabs a jar of sauce. “y/n isn’t your teacher, kiddo. you’re not writing her an essay.” she looks at peter over her shoulder. a sheepish smile creeps onto his face.

“you know what i mean.” he reads over the only words on his paper at the moment. dear y/n. he’s starting to feel like spongebob the one time he wrote a paper. “what are you making?” peter asks may so he can temporarily take the focus off his unwritten valentine. “pasta,” may shakes the box in her hand. “and meatballs.”

“should i dial 911 now or wait until we’re in flames?” peter jokes about her awful cooking skills. may shoos him off and puts the box of pasta on the counter. “worry about your own kitchen nightmare.” she nods at the sheet of paper tormenting him. frowning, he glances back at her. “i’m the worst, may. i really don’t know what to write.”

may struggles to open the jar of sauce as she replies. “i thought you said- jesus.” it pops off. “y/n doesn’t like valentine’s day.” she slides over a pot from the stove and dumps the sauce in. peter stares up at the ceiling. “she doesn’t.” that’s probably why he’s having such a hard time. “why are you writing her a card, then?” may questions, turning on a burner.

“because, i dunno, it’s nice? it’ll make her happy? she might not care, but i do.” he mumbles the last part. he’s a bit of a hopeless romantic, so he hasn’t quite adjusted to the idea you had of not getting each other presents. you’re treating it like a regular day. some takeout and cuddles is all you’re doing.

peter would rather buy you things until his pockets are empty. not that there’s much in them, anyway. the point is that you deserve proper spoiling instead of corny words in his shitty handwriting.

“peter, honey. it might be better to stick with what y/n wants,” may suggests while stirring the sauce in the pot. she’s well aware that a few paragraphs from peter won’t change your mind. your opinions belong to you, and there’s nothing he can do about it, though he does have good intentions.

ignoring what may just said, peter makes a request. “what if you help me write it?” she faces the stove again. he can picture her playful smile when she quirks back, “she’s not my girlfriend.” “no, but you’re a girl... a woman,” he corrects himself, earning a scoff from may. “you’d probably know what sounds good.”

“you know y/n better than me, peter. do it on your own,” she exhales and turns back around with the wooden spoon in her hand. “it’ll be more... heartfelt.” peter hates that may is right because he’s completely stuck. his heart is being stupid today. “okay. i’ll try.” he gives her a slow nod. “why don’t you take a break? come stir the sauce. i’ll start the pasta.”

peter gets up from the table and grabs the spoon from may. she pinches his cheek on her way to the sink, getting a tight lipped smile from him.

this is not good.

the next day at school, peter asks around the lunch table for advice while you’re on line getting food. he feels guilty about it because may told him not to. he’s never going to get your valentine done if he doesn’t, though. it isn’t the worst thing in the world to bring on some co-writers.

“ok, what do you have so far?” betty asks, fully invested in the situation. she’s hoping this will switch up your views on valentine’s day. peter pulls out the same piece of paper from last night and says verbatim what’s on it. “dear y/n.” he looks up at ned and betty, the corners of his mouth twitching down. ned motions with his hand for peter to go on.

“that’s it,” peter confesses and folds the paper back up in shame. “dude, you told us it was a work in progress,” ned winces, betty taking his hand that’s resting on her shoulder. “where’s the progress?” betty patronizes him. they’re making him feel worse than he already did. what great co-writers he’s collaborating with.

peter throws a hand up, an eye roll included. “yeah, it’s terrible. can you help me or not?” mj narrows her own eyes at peter from the other end of his bench. she’s not interested in participating when the conversation is about forcing you to celebrate a holiday you don’t like.

“ooh!” betty squeals and squeezes ned’s hand. “you should make a list.” ned grins, leaning his head on hers. “genius, babe.” “a list of what?” peter furrows his eyebrows as he looks between the two of them. “what you love about y/n,” she explains, ned adding on, “stuff you do together, or you appreciate.”

“put whatever you come up with into sentences and voilà,” betty says in her best french accent. “oui oui,” ned agrees, both of them giggling. that doesn’t sound half bad. peter could manage a list about you. “thank you so much, guys. you literally just saved valentine’s day,” he confidently tucks his paper into his pocket. “it’s what we do,” ned tells him coolly.

“you never asked what i think,” mj cuts in, staring down her friends, who reluctantly meet her gaze. she pushes her bag of goldfish aside and raises an eyebrow. “mj, we know how you feel about valentine’s day.” peter presses his lips together. “y/n feels the same way,” mj reminds him dryly.

it’s true, but he doesn’t want to hear that right now. he’s having a breakthrough.

like clockwork, you appear at the table. you slip into the spot next to peter and put down your lunch tray. “what’d i miss?” you comment on the obvious tension, eyeing betty for an explanation. mj gives it to you. “valentine’s day discourse,” she tells you knowingly. peter shifts in his seat, uncomfortable, like he’s been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to.

he technically has.

“yuck,” you murmur, winding your arms around peter’s neck. “yuck, yuck, yuck.” he finds your words ironic because you then kiss his cheek, and peck his lips when he turns his head. peter puts a hand on your side and lets his eyes go up and down your face. a smile spreads across it, which he returns without thinking about. mj huffs in disapproval. she’s seen enough pda.

peter makes his list later that night. he decided he isn’t being inauthentic because he’s coming up with everything himself. he breezes right through it, jotting down what he loves most about you across the paper. it’s a mess. scribbled out misspellings and shreds of eraser, single words and whole phrases covering both sides. he’s proud of his actual progress.

he’ll write the official letter tomorrow since you’re coming over tonight. he at least has his material. the next, thankfully final, step is to reword it.

you’re ranting to peter about some drama with one of your teachers. he listens intently as always, chuckling when you crack jokes and grinning the entire time, feeling so lucky to have the most passionate, say whatever is on her mind girlfriend ever. seriously, it’s inspiring to watch.

“no, like, i never know what’s going on in that class,” you snort, peter snaking his arms around your middle from behind. “because you don’t pay attention,” he hums with his face nuzzled into the back of your neck. “because it doesn’t make any sense!” you defend yourself. his lips brush against your bare skin, drawing a giggle out of you.

“back to what i was saying,” your voice drips with sarcasm. the two of you naturally gravitate to his room, you walking in first. “she called on me, and i- what’s this?” you escape peter’s arms and head over to his desk. crap, he was working on your valentine and forgot to put it away. it caught your attention because it’s surrounded by crumpled papers and glitter.

peter was... experimenting... with designs for the front of the card. he’s learned that he isn’t too artistic either.

“wait, don’t read that,“ peter tries, but you’ve already got the list in your hands. he anxiously sucks his lower lip into his mouth and comes to stand next to you.

you first see the ‘dear y/n,’ then focus in on a few other words. my person forever, which makes you coo at the paper. insane (in the best way), which makes you gasp dramatically. i know you don’t like valentine’s day, but...

you drop the card back on the desk and let out a breath, shutting your eyes as irritation creeps in. it wouldn’t be fair for you to be mad at peter because it’s a sweet gesture, it really is. just, not for you personally. you’re on opposite sides of the valentine’s spectrum. you despise it, he sort of loves it. you’d hoped to meet somewhere in the middle.

“i thought we said no gifts,” you keep your voice level and spin around to look at peter. his face is painted with guilt. “it’s a card,” he murmurs, then meets your eyes with his brows knitted together. “i can’t even give you a card?” “i mean...” you shrug and shake your head. “look, peter. we had an agreement. i’m not doing valentine’s day.”

his disappointment comes out in the form of hanging his head. “yeah, you’re right. sorry.”

may tried to tell him this would happen, mj tried to tell him, and now you’re telling him. he should’ve expected it. he isn’t sure why he’s being so mopey about it because he was fully aware of your hatred for anything with the word valentine in it. it still hurts. peter just wishes you’d let him have the one day to love you and only you, give you some special attention.

“it’s nothing against you, babe,” you reassure him, noticing the shift in his mood. you put a hand on his shoulder. “i really just don’t like valentine’s day. it feels so... fake to me.” peter musters up a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. it drops when you loop your arms around his torso.

“if i celebrated, you’d be the first person i’d wanna spend it with.” you punctuate your words with a kiss to his cheek. he rests his chin on your head, you nuzzling your own cheek into his sweater. he’s feeling a bit better now. it’s not about him, that’s what he needs to remind himself. “thanks, baby,” peter speaks lowly into the air. you hum as if to say no problem.

scratch literally everything he’s done.

peter rolls over in his bed, rubbing at his eyes as his alarm goes off. it’s today. happy valentine’s day to... himself. he doesn’t think you’d want to hear it.

he’s not as broken up about everything as the other day. you have your reasons for not celebrating, and peter accepts them. hey, he still gets to spend the whole day with you. you’re technically having an unspoken valentine’s date.

he gets up from his bed with a yawn and starts to dig through his drawers for an outfit. you should be over soon.

before you head over to peter’s, you decide to make a quick stop at cvs for a few things. you ended up feeling pretty terrible about snapping on him essentially for loving you. it was over a harmless valentine, something to make you feel good and be an outlet for the hundreds of romantic bones in his body. basically, you were bitter about having a thoughtful boyfriend.

you want to make it up to him by giving him gifts instead. you’ll never be down with the whole exploitive and capitalistic side of valentine’s day, but there’s a deeper meaning to it than what you give it credit for. you see that now. peter was able to show his love for you through a homemade mess of a card, and you felt it. the price tags don’t matter. the meaning does.

dressed in his nicest sweater with his hair all styled, peter answers your knocking at his door. a grin instantly paints his face as he takes you in. you’re bundled up in a coat and holding a bag by your side. “hey,” he greets you and lets you past him. you shut the door behind him, returning the smile and winding an arm around his neck for a hug. his drapes around your back.

“hey. happy valentine’s day.” “happy valentine’s-“ peter realizes what he’s about to say and what you just said, then stops himself. “what?” he breaks the hug, squinting at your odd behavior. you’re the last person he’d expected to hear that from. “it’s valentine’s day. so, happy valentine’s day,” you tell him like it’s nothing.

he stays quiet while you shrug off your coat and throw it over one of the kitchen chairs. you bring your bag along with you, peter following you in. he’s suspicious. intrigued, and suspicious. it’s been less than a day since he last say you. you had a change of heart that fast? you aren’t the biggest valentine’s day anti he knows anymore?

“where’s may?” you wonder aloud, taking both of peter’s hands in your now free ones. he eyes the shopping bag you put down while you lace your fingers together. “with happy. they’re getting brunch.” he’s never particularly psyched to talk about their relationship. it’s always been in a joking way, though. now, he sounds genuinely upset to go over may’s whereabouts.

“they’re so cute,” you comment, tugging on peter’s hands so he looks at you. “you good?” “great,” peter half lies and nods, then presses a reassuring kiss to your cheek. he’s not bad. puzzled is the word. what you say next only adds to it.

“good. i have a few things for you,” you beam at him and grab your shopping bag off the chair. that’s what that’s for? peter isn’t fully sure what you’re up to. it doesn’t stop a smile from stretching across his lips, though.

“what happened to no presents?” he tests you as you reach into the bag. “well, i feel bad about how i acted the other day.” you pull out a heart shaped box of chocolates. “the card was really sweet, and i was too caught off guard to appreciate it. i’m sorry, pete.” peter’s eyes twinkle at you, gazing as you give him a smile with a hint of shyness behind it. you’re leaving your comfort zone and entering his.

“i was wrong and cynical and just, yeah. happy valentine’s day,” you add on and shove the box into his hand. he finally grins, so wide and then lets out a breathy laugh. “thanks, y/n. i know it was probably hard to shop being surrounded by this stuff.” he holds up the box. he’s right. you’ll unfortunately be seeing pink and red for weeks. “it was, but i did it for you.” you happily open up your arms for him.

peter puts down the chocolates and pulls you into his arms, his cheek squished against the side of your head as he hugs you to his chest. “oh my god, i love you so much,” he mumbles out, you squeezing him in response. “i love you, pete.” you press a quick kiss to his neck and hold him at arm’s length so you can see him. “i have something else for you.”

“baby,” peter coos, a pout on his lips. “you don’t have to do all of this. i would’ve been fine without the chocolates, even.” “stop, you deserve it,” you shut down the part of him that’s way too nice and selfless. “you’re my real present,” he says lower and with a toothy smile. shaking your head, you reach behind you and into the bag.

he can’t believe you’ve switched stances on valentine’s day. you’re the present pusher, and he’s refusing them. peter thinks it’s some sort of miracle that you’re not only acknowledging the holiday, you’re also partaking in it. his hopeless romantic side tells him it’s actually love, and it is. that’s the cheesy, hallmark movie truth. you suffered through shopping at a heart themed cvs because you love him. simple.

you return with a pink envelope that you place into peter’s hand. his face softens as he closes his fingers around it. “y/n, you made me a card?” “kind of,” you laugh at his overstatement. it’s obviously pre-made. you’d used a pen to fill it out in the store, scribbled a few words and tucked it into the envelope.

“it really doesn’t compare to yours, though,” you simultaneously warn and compliment him. peter dismisses you with a lighthearted click of his tongue. “oh, shush. that was only a rough draft.” “which proves my point even more. open it.” you grip onto the bottom of his sweater and grin.

he keeps his eyes on you while ripping open the envelope, then looks down and chuckles at the gag of the card. it has r2d2 and r4d4 from star wars on the front. inside is already written, “r4 is red and r2 is blue. if i was the force then i’d be with you.” you giggle to yourself, watching him read what you wrote next. i love you more every day, especially on valentine’s. xo, y/n.

peter holds the card to his side and slings an arm around your waist. “they make star wars valentines?” he murmurs, another smile breaking out on his face, one that you of course return. you use his sweater to pull him closer. “apparently. perfect for you.” peter tosses the card down next to the chocolates, both arms now holding you.

“thank you so much, baby. you’re an angel,” he sighs and pecks your lips after. “call me cupid,” you answer.

you give him a longer kiss back, tilting your head up to deepen it. your hands find their place on his biceps, earning a hum from peter as he moves his lips against yours. you can feel his love in every little movement, how he hugs your waist like you’re made of glass, rests his forehead against yours. when your lips mutually detach, peter speaks first, voice slightly husky.

“happy valentine’s day, cupid.”

you breathe out, peter closing his eyes in content.

“happy valentine’s day, r2.”

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut

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chalkrevelations · 3 years

Text

SO. Word of Honor, Episode 10, and everyone is deep in their feelings … well, their feeling, which is misery.

First, due diligence, and I really mean it on this one: SPOILERS not just for this ep but for the entire show. Out of the car, for now, and come back later, if you want to watch the whole thing unspoiled.

Well, it’s the breakup episode, y’all. Everyone is wallowing in misery, and Our Couple is taking that out on themselves and in some cases (:cough:WKX:cough) on everybody around them. We open on sad-sack Wen Kexing digging sadly in the dirt with a sword, the bodies of the Four Sages of Anji laid out beside him as he gives a RIP speech about how you have to be careful when making friends, because they’ll turn out to be bad news, which is clearly yet another warning about himself, because I don’t think anyone in the mob who killed these aging hippies in the last ep was a friend (although I suppose it could be argued that WKX is talking about their friendship with Gao Chong getting them killed) and anyway, you have to understand that WKX is a demon under the skin, not even really human, you guys, and he’s only ever going to disappoint everyone. Has he not made this clear by now? His sword breaks at this point, which probably ought to tell him he’s not going to be able to bury any of this mess. Then Zhou Zishu shows up and is understandably unhappy at the way his decision last ep to walk out on faith for this guy has gone completely pear-shaped, and he asks some rather pointed questions about whether four dead Sages of Anji is what WKX wanted and if he’s happy now – questions that sound, my dude, a little confrontational. I mean, I think you’re entitled, given the situation, but I’m just sayin’. WKX flings off ZZS’s hand and wants to know if “Leader Zhou” has only ever killed bad people, which is a hit that lands, and it hurts, just like it was supposed to, and this is definitely one of those nightmare scenarios where everyone just keeps digging themselves deeper. ZZS is all, FINE THEN, and leaves. Again. Because WKX is apparently a demon in human form who’s only ever going to disappoint everyone. Including his zhiji. I love you with all of my heart, ZZS, but a little bit, you come off like you only showed up to twist the knife, my man. Anyway, ZZS stomps off to go mope at Yuefan Tower, the scene of his bad decision to trust this guy BEFORE finding out he sets up revenge murders for fun. We’re treated to a flashback sequence of some of ZZS’s Tian Chuang state-sanctioned violence, including a pile of bodies in a burned-out house with a little girl who reaches out to him and calls him “shushu” (which I think is a reference to something that actually happens in Qi Ye); killing that official dude and making Jing’an drink poison, from Ep 1; inserting the Seven Nails into Bi Changfeng - a whole bunch of bad shit that WKX has dug back up way more successfully with a few words than that grave he was trying to dig with his broken sword. ZZS sighs mournfully and unfairly beautifully (your FACE, my dude) over the fact that he thought he found his soulmate, but he was apparently WRONG, and meanwhile, we see Han Ying lurking worriedly and devotedly in the background.

Then, both of these morose motherfuckers proceed to drink themselves (even more) stupid over each other, WKX in a brothel and ZZS moping by himself downstairs at the (No Longer) Getting Lucky Inn, leaving poor Han Ying and A-Xiang to eventually deal with them. ZZS is literally falling over as he calls for more wine – you are a sloppy drunk, laopo, although I have to admit, you’ve worked your way through a lot of bottles, so I suppose it’s understandable – and WKX proceeds to drink his four ... five? ... four, I think, girls under the table and clearly has no intention of sleeping with them, because it might interfere with his waxing drunkenly and mournfully about finding a thing you thought you’d lost forever but not being able to keep it at the price of giving up your big revenge murder plan you’ve been working out since you were 8 years old. (Also because he’s gay af. I’m just sayin’.)

So, yeah, Han Ying and A-Xiang eventually have to deal with these two, and for my money, the single most important scene of the ep - thematically, at least - is the one we get between A-Xiang and WKX, where a couple of big things are going on. One of the themes I see again, running through this ep, is the separation between the human world and the world of “ghosts,” and how that line is policed, and how Wen Kexing tries to maintain it as a bright line, in order to maintain his own distance from Zhou Zishu and the world. Now that things have gone so spectacularly wrong with ZZS, he’s going to dig in on the “ghost” side of that line for all he’s worth – much harder than he was digging that grave for the Four Sages of Anji, given he breaks the sword and gives up halfway through on that one, but this one he’s determined to get all the way to the bedrock on. So yes, in this scene we get the theme made explicit again, of human-ghost separation - which will echo and rebound throughout the rest of the show, until we see its awful, gory truth made manifest when it turns out WKX is horrifically correct and A-Xiang is NOT, in fact, going to be allowed by “humankind” to leave Ghost Valley and walk up to the human world with her lover, while meanwhile, if WKX is going to get out of the valley, he’s not staying in the mortal world but is going to end up on the icy remote mountaintop. BUT ALSO, this may be the first time we really see the show put A-Xiang forward as a proxy for Wen Kexing. This is going to be an increasingly weighted Thing as we go on, of course, but what I didn’t remember on my first watch-through - even after I realized what they were doing with the A-Xiang/Cao Weining and Wen Kexing/Zhou Zishu parallels further down the road – is that, in this first time we really see it, it’s not even about their respective love interests, it’s about their respective relationships with Chengling. I mean, clearly, clearly, when WKX is being a drunk asshole to A-Xiang about how she’s been too long in her human skin (and huh, interesting that, when we also have instances where fake skin disguises are literal), and DON’T EVER FORGET WHO YOU ARE, HEARTLESS AMETHYST FIEND GHOST VALLEY MASTER HEARTLESS AMETHYST FIEND, and who among them would ever pity you me you, he’s really talking about his recent breakup with ZZS, in which he got called a crazed psychopath just for setting up a few amusing revenge murders. But here’s the thing – what triggers the diatribe is A-Xiang saying she feels sorry for Chengling trapped in Yueyang Sect, in the course of nattering on about what’s up with Chengling, and what she and Chengling have been doing together, and how much Chengling misses WKX. Which is, A-Xiang tells WKX, a lot. After which WKX puffs himself up and proceeds to be a drunk asshole to her, because of course, he’s not worthy of having anyone care about him, they might think he’s human, or something, and then he’s only going to get hurt again when they find out he’s NOT. So, all that happens. We also find out in this conversation that Changing Ghost was responsible for the pile of heads; that A-Xiang was at the Funeral/Wedding Game and saw Deng Kuan become the last survivor and get set free in much better condition than he later showed up at Yueyang Sect, so what the hell’s happened to him in between; and that A-Xiang definitely thinks her Murder Dad master is crazy but isn’t afraid that he’ll end up killing her someday. I mean, let’s be clear, I don’t think she’s absolutely positive that he won’t go crazy and kill her – she’s just not afraid of it. Zhou Ye is fantastic here, because she has A-Xiang give WKX this gorgeous little smile that’s so simple yet just so filled with love and trust and faith and everything that must have kept his heart alive all those years, the one that she probably gave him even after he burned her mouth on congee that was too hot, and I end up clutching my chest because I think she’s killed me. And then in a horrible twist on what’s eventually coming down the pike, she tells him that she’d follow him even if he’s crazy, and that if he killed her, she’d even follow him in death, and GOD. MY HEART. Because we’re going to see that in fact, he’s going to almost follow her into death, and then he’s going to dream of her leaving him instead of actually staying with him after death, and the only thing keeping me together at this point is the idea that Nian’xiang will actually be A-Xiang reincarnated so that she can be with WKX and the rest of her family again.

Anyway, all of this is apparently a dress rehearsal for WKX, because he then gets himself dolled up in some luscious green robes and proceeds to go to Tragicomic Ghost’s mansion in order to terrorize the troops and spread the misery. He requests a report from all of his top ten nine eight devils; credits them with three Funeral Games (I guess we don’t get to see the other two), annihilating Danyang Sect, destroying Mirror Lake Sect, killing Mount Tai Sect’s leader (Ao Laizi), and leaving a pile of heads for Yueyang Sect to find. He’s doing his best Lunatic Wen bit, but come on, my friend, do they really deserve credit for ALL of that? Do they really? It sounds like you have your suspicions, as well, because you want to know who was responsible for the Mirror Lake massacre. Everyone looks around, pointedly not meeting his eyes, so, hmm, it must have been Long-Tongued Ghost, right? Right? (Who we last saw getting killed and getting his (Danyang) Glazed Armor took by Wen Kexing while pretending to be Hanged Ghost.) Changing Ghost, who’s supposedly Long-Tongued Ghost’s superior and who’s smart enough to sense the wind shifting, even if he’s not sure in which direction, hastily says that LTGhost doesn’t listen to him anymore. (Yeah, because he’s dead.) At this point, White Grim Reaper is dumb enough to draw attention to himself, and WKX chokes him out just ‘cause. ‘Cause he’s Lunatic Wen, and fuck you, that’s why. Both Tragicomic Ghost and Beauty Ghost look more Completely Done With This Bullshit than scared – in contrast to the men, who are shitting their pants - which is an early indication that their relationships with WKX are different than his relationships with the male Devils. WKX also makes some pointed comment about how oh dear, he’s killed someone, and they were already low on manpower, but as a chief of GHOSTS, that’s all he has to work with, isn’t that RIGHT, Changing Ghost – which sounds on the surface kind of like policing that line between ghosts and humans, but really seems more like he has his suspicions about exactly who Changing Ghost is actually working with, because while he may not be as smart as A-Xu, he’s not DUMB. Now, let’s all come up with a plan to fuck over the Five Lakes Alliance during the Hero’s Conference. Aaaaand … end scene (and ep).

Meanwhile, Han Ying is dealing with his poor, drunk dumbass charge, and we see ZZS wake up in some richly appointed rooms, in some strange bed, and he’s clearly thinking “Oh snap. What I do last night?” Also, feeling the hangover. Once he manages to get his boots on, he notices a shrine, complete with candles, and just about this point, Han Ying busts in like he’s WKX or something (although to be fair, it is his bedroom), and wants to know exactly wtf is wrong with ZZS, getting blackout drunk with his actual face hanging out like he doesn’t care who recognizes him? (I just have to take a moment here, and point out that ZZS, who went all in, in the last ep, and who will continue to be the more open one as this relationship goes on, is being berated here for not wearing a mask, for showing his real self, while the issue for both A-Xiang and WKX is going to continue to be keeping on a protective mask/skin, even though WKX accuses A-Xiang himself in this very ep of thinking the mask is real and not just a cover for her true face. Anyway.) Oh, and also, My Lord, how is your injury? DO YOU NEED SOMEONE TO TENDERLY CARE FOR YOU? I like this scene, because Han Ying’s actually kind of angry at ZZS, and a little bit, he shows it, and we get to see that he’s not spineless, even in the (blindingly beautiful) face of ZZS, he’s just devoted. And if that means keeping this dumbass safe from himself, well, Han Ying will try to do that, too, even if it’s enough to drive him to find religion, as we also find out in this scene, explaining the shrine. I suppose he needs all the help he can get. Anyway, ZZS tells him that he’s too mean to die just yet, although he doesn’t expect any blessings on his path, and Han Ying responds – and I think this is important, given ZZS’s decision last ep to spend the rest of his life living instead of dying – that “any day we live is a day gained.” (HAN YING. MY BELOVED.) ZZS pulls some Glazed Armor out of his robes to give to Han Ying, and they both realize that it looks exactly like two pieces Han Ying already has his hands on, gdi WKX. At this point, ZZS reiterates that he just wants Han Ying to lay low and stay safe, Han Ying reiterates his undying devotion, and ZZS has clearly had it with these kids and their starry-eyed devotion. He tries telling Han Yng again to just live a good life - as if Han Ying is at all wired that way – before making some dramatic pronouncement about expecting to have to deal with what’s coming to him in hell and sweeping out the door in the last we see of him this ep.

Let’s see, other things that happened:

Gao Chong, Zhao Jing and Shen Shen confer over their complete loss of face in the run-up to the Hero’s Conference; Shen Shen gets very offended and denies killing Ao Laizi, which is the rumor going around town; Gao Chong says the Ghost Valley isn’t responsible for Ao Laizi’s death (which they are) or for spreading the rhyme about the Glazed Armor (which they are); Zhao Jing says Five Lakes Alliance can’t get a reputation for forcing other sects to do things (when he can manipulate them into doing what he wants), and Shen Shen wants to know WHY THE HELL NOT (oh, Shen Shen) when the jianghu has always been, and I QUOTE, “a place where the strong pery on the weak,” so again, I have to kind of side with WKX on this one about the hive of scum and villainy. Or I would if you guys seemed capable of actually accomplishing anything.

Elsewhere in Yueyang Sect, it’s been Bullying Hour again for Chengling, and A-Xiang is furious when she finds out, threatening to break the legs of whoever’s responsible for smacking him around (she really is like the most delightful Chengxian love-child, I have to say). She also has some Wolong Nuts – crispy and delicious! – for him. Gao Xiaolian shows up with some treats, but Chengling doesn’t want her food, and also he doesn’t want to marry her, because he doesn’t want to be Gao Chong’s puppet, which is kind of new, because he said a couple of eps ago at the Five Lakes monument that he would abide by Gao Chong’s decisions. I guess now that he’s found out from A-Xiang that their Murder Dads are still around, he thinks there’s still a chance to run away with them. Gao Xiolian runs away, crying. Harsh, Chengling, but it does give him the chance to complain to A-Xiang that he’s effectively under house arrest, WHERE ARE OUR MURDER DADS TO SAVE ME?

Last but not least, there’s this incredible scene with Yu Loser Qiufeng, leader of Mount Hua Sect, in which one of the Mount Hua Virgins (tm WKX) comes complaining that everyone is looking down on them. Yu Qiufeng tells him that the entire jianghu is falling apart and to suck it up, and then another Virgin (tm WKX) shows up to say that some people from Mount Tai Sect are here to talk about Dead Ao Laizi, because the Five Lakes Alliance killed him omg. Yu Quifeng’s response is literally “Tell them I’m not here,” and when the disciple wants to know how he can possibly say that, Qiufeng’s response is literally “Say I went out. Say I’m sick. Say I’m dead.” (OMG, Zongzhu can’t see you right now, he’s dead!)

#wen kexing #zhou zishu #gu xiang #han ying #zhang chengling #yu qiufeng #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

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realcube · 3 years

Note

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJE29FG7/

omg i hope u can open the link and see the tiktok i just wanted to share bc it’s so fucking funny. i could def see bokuto, noya, tanaka, or anyone else u can think of sobbing LOL

IRVEBLVGAETZ wait the video was so precious and funny AAAAA 🥺 thank you so much for sharing, anon 🙏

AND YES thEY would!! so i humbly offer you this

tw// zombies, crying, swearing. mentions of shooting

Kōtarō Bokuto

you jokingly asked him if he’d leave if you got turned into a zombie and he said HELL NO

if you’re a zombie then he’ll become a zombie too periodt

akaashi constantly plays the mom friend like ‘if (y/n) jumped off a cliff, would you do it too?’ an bokuto is like ‘fuck yea i would’

but then he was like (with the puppy eyes btw) ‘if i got turned into a zombie, would you leave me, puppy?’

you shook your head, slowly wrapping your arms around his waist and looking up at him, ‘no, kō. in fact, i would handcuff myself to you so you don’t cause any trouble.’

you expected him to chuckle and maybe give you a lil’ kiss but instead he pushed you back onto the couch, so you were laying down and he was on top of you with his head buried in your chest

‘but what if i try to eat your brain?’ bokuto muttered, the cloth of your shirt muffling his sniffles

you shrugged, your hand making its way up his spine to rub his back soothingly, ‘you do that everyday anyway.’

bokuto let out a deep bawl

‘i was joking!’ you cried, thinking that he was crying bc you said he eats at your brain lol

bokuto shook his head, pulling his face back from your chest to reveal his quivering lips, damp puppy-eyes and shiny nose , ‘you’re so damn sweet, (y/n)!’ he howled then hastily concealed his face with your chest

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, ‘wow, kō. are you really crying because i said i’ll stay with you during the zombie apocalypse- you’re my boyfriend, what do you expect?’

bokuto sighed, quickly calming himself until his wails were nothing but sniffs, then he choked out, ‘but if you’d stick with me through the end of the world, you’d stick with me through anything else, right? like..if i broke my dick- or if i couldn’t play volleyball anymore?’

geez.

he read into that a lot more than you thought he would

‘oh, yeah- i’ll be with you during anything and everything, don’t worry.’

that was enough to make bokuto start crying again, ‘I DON’T DESERVE YOU, (Y/N)!!’

Yū Nishinoya

ok- y’all aren’t dating yet

but he has a MASSSSSIVE crush on you and he makes it very obvious

he simps for you on the daily but you always brush off his advances as playful banter or his naturally flirtatious manner

but you secretly really want to be with him but you don’t want to get into a relationship with him just for him to lose interest and start simping for someone else bc you saw how quickly he shifted from kiyoko to you and you don’t want to get attached just in case he shifts again

and you are both really good friends so now noya has almost given up on trying to woo you as he’s realised that he might be too far in the friendzone

so you’re just out together at the park as friends and you’re on your phone while noya just stares at the sunset, appreciating your presence

you see ^that^ tiktok on your fyp but you’re single so you try it out on noya

‘what would you do if i got turned into a zombie?’

noya didn’t even bother to ask about the motives of your question and instead he just replied, ‘i’d find a cure and turn you back into yourself!’ like the little optimist he is

you felt a light blush spread across your cheeks and noya clearly noticed it too bc his lips curled into a bright, smug grin

so you felt the need to respond rather harshly to make sure he knew that you weren’t falling for him or anything despite the fact, you were falling for him ‘easier said than done, genius. what did you get on your last chemistry test again?-oh and your biology one too?’

nishinoya’s bottom lips jutted out to form a pout, ‘well, in that case, i’d make a cage and trap you inside. then i’d go save the world and shit by killing all the other zombies and once society starts rebuilding itself, i’ll wait until one of the science-y dudes makes a cure then i’d come back to your cage and give it to you.’

honestly, you couldn’t even argue with him

if anyone was gonna save the world from zombies, it’d be noya

‘anyway, what would you do if i became a zombie, (y/n)?’

you paused for a second, tapping your chin with your index finger while thinking then said, ‘i don’t think i could make a cure so i guess i’d just handcuff myself to you so i don’t lose you then figure something out.’

noya literally passed away - with happiness ofc

he was already smiling but now his smile was 10x brighter

‘(Y/N)! SERIOUSLY?! YOU’D DO THAT FOR ME?! WHY?!’ he basically screamed, surprised that you’d say something so sweet since ngl he was really expecting you to say that you’d drop-kick him into the sun, in that situation

you nodded, ‘yeah, of course. y’know, i’d hate to lose you, noya - even if you are trying to eat my brain.’

a small gasp escaped your mouth as noya flung both of his arms around you and wailed, ‘I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, (Y/N)!!’

you never really thought that your first time telling nishinoya that you love him would be before y’all were dating bc of a zombie hypothetical but..you did it anyway :)))

oh and needless to say, you went on your first date the following day

Ryūnosuke Tanaka

you sit in his lap and watch tiktoks while he peers over your shoulder so he saw the video too lol

he was like ‘pfft. geez why is that guy crying over something like that? pussy alert.’

but then, knowing that he saw the video, you hummed, ‘same!’ then turned your body to face his and caress his cheek, ‘there’s no way i’d be able to leave you, baby. so your zombie-self can have fun dealing with my ass for the rest of your undead life.’

dude he was in tears-

in his own words, pussy alert

‘you’d be doing me a favour, babe.’ he said shakily, trying his best to hide the fact he was on the verge of bawling his eyes out

also, you’re not allowed to leave his lap until the sunrises now

he loves you too much to let you go - even to bathroom or kitchen

you’ll have to pry your hips out of his firm grip so good luck with that

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samingtonwilson · 4 years

Text

Apartment 8C - Chapter 4

The First, First Date

SERIES MASTERLIST // PREVIOUS PART

Summary: college au. you and bucky are the closest of friends, the most functional of roommates, and… exes. but just because it didn’t work out romantically doesn’t mean he has to move out! it’s not like he’s so deeply in love that he can barely breathe. totally not in love. at all. not even a little. maybe.

Pairing: bucky x reader

Warnings: LANGUAGE, the use of marijuana/pot/weed/reefer/that loud

A/N: i had a bad thought while writing this chapter and i’m not going to share it with y’all because that might put y’all off this story. actually fuck it, i’ll share the thought. isn’t it so weird how obsessed we all are with love? like these are college students with so much more happening in their lives but they’re sitting around and always talking about love. and a lot of us do that shit too. weirdos.

There’s a knock at the door and Bucky replies to it with a groan. A loud, I don’t give a fuck if the neighbors hear me kind of groan.

Slumped on the couch, phone balanced on his stomach and remote control set on his thigh, he very nearly snarls. He doesn’t bother to pick up either electronic as he stands, letting his phone fall face down on the area rug while the remote knocks against its corner with a clang.

His journey to the door is comprised less of steps and more of a slide, a glide, a bit of a skate. He’s thankful he kept his socks on and unlocks the door, eyes half-lidded and heavy head tilted back. “The delivery instructions said to text and leave the bag at the door, not to knock and make me get up.”

“That how you talk to delivery people? They should ban your sorry ass from Doordash.”

He straightens his head and glares at Steve— smirking, smug, smart ass Steve who holds a large brown paper bag in one hand and a six pack in the other. It somehow makes Bucky frown deeper. “You intercepted my delivery?”

“And brought you beer,” he holds the cardboard case up and shakes it, smiling.

That smile fades, however, when he pauses in thought for a moment. He frowns then, indignant. Pushes Bucky out of the way to cross the threshold into the apartment. “So, you know, you’re fuckin’ welcome, you ungrateful jerk.”

A sigh and Bucky shuts the door. He watches as Steve appraises the room and feels no shame at the look of disgust on Steve’s face. Instead, he rolls his eyes when Steve fully faces him. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“You clean out your fridge? It broken or something?” Steve asks. He sets the bag and beer onto the coffee table, shuts Bucky’s dead laptop that he hasn’t bothered to charge. Steve then places Bucky’s phone and the remote control on the couch and begins to gather the empty take out containers still cool from the refrigerator.

Bucky grits his teeth at the sight. “Steve, just— What the hell are you doing?”

“Picking all this shit up so we can eat and watch the game,” there’s a cheerful lilt through his words. He sends a smile Bucky’s way, humor in the blue of his eyes, as he passes to toss the containers into the trash. “Thanks for asking, Buck. What the hell are you doing?”

“I—” Bucky still stands by the door. His arms are crossed over his chest, his brow furrowed in incredulity when Steve crosses to the couch once more and falls into the cushions with a sigh of relief. “Steve, I’m not in the mood today, man.”

“In the mood for what?” The volume of the television is turned up, Steve hugs the elephant cushion to his chest. “You were gonna watch the game anyway, so was I. Might as well do that in the same place and eat a li’l somethin’ while we’re at it.”

Bucky’s sigh is one of defeat. He takes steps back to the couch rather than skating over, and sits beside Steve with a mumbled, “I didn’t order anything with your fat head in mind.”

Steve leans forward to pull the bag open, paper crinkling as he pulls a sandwich from the depths. He tosses what remains in the bag onto Bucky’s lap. “Stopped at a deli on the way here. Don’t know what the fuck you’re eating but it smelled like dog shit.”

He smiles to himself. Wryly. “What deli you stop at?”

“Shelsky's.” There’s pride in Steve’s voice. Arrogance in his posture. “I didn’t want to cheap out and settle for something worse.”

“That’s where I ordered from, you fucking snob.”

“Must’ve ordered something nasty then.”

A sarcastic hum of agreement and Bucky shakes his head. He narrows his eyes at the television as Steve flips through the channels in an attempt to find something more entertaining than the advertisements currently airing on Fox. “Why’re you really here?”

“It’s Thursday night,” he replies, using a keychain to pop the cap on a bottle of beer. “Titans are playing the Jags.”

“You don’t care about either of those teams.”

Steve drops his smile now. He scowls and settles back on Fox, unsatisfied. “Can’t a guy eat a sandwich, drink a beer, and watch a game with a friend without the third degree?”

“Couldn’t have done that with Sam?”

“I do a variation of this with Sam almost every night. Wanted to spend time with you today.”

“But—”

“Buck, for shit’s sake, let me be here for you without making us both live through me saying why.” He reaches forward to pull another beer from the carton, placing it in Bucky’s lap, and slouches back against the soft grey velvet. “And if you wanna talk about it, I’m here for that, too.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Bucky asks, more rhetorical than expecting an answer.

There’s a pause as Bucky gazes at the television with practiced focus. His arms fold over his chest again. His knee bounces.

“She’s on a date,” he continues after the lull stretches for too long. “She was going to start dating eventually. I’m okay with it. Happy for her. T’Challa’s a good dude. Good looking, good soccer player. Smart. It’s nice. Good for her. I’m happy for her. She deserves someone like him. I’m happy for her.

“He actually came to the door. Didn’t text her to meet him downstairs, didn’t show up empty-handed. We both know how uncomfortable she is with actual romantic gestures and I guess he knows, too, because he gave her a Ziploc of peaches like she had in class the day they met. It’s nice. He’s a good dude. I’m happy for her.”

Through the thick silence that falls over them, Steve blinks. “Christ, you know you just spoke for a minute straight without taking a breath? I think you said ‘I’m happy for her’ thirteen times.”

Bucky’s inhale is loud and pointed, his exhale a huff. He’s no longer interested in eating the sandwich he’d ordered, suddenly full from all the leftovers he’d tucked into just minutes ago. All he wants is for Steve to leave.

Well. That’s not all he wants.

But it trumps his other desires. Momentarily.

“I know you’re happy for her,” Steve says as Bucky parts his lips to tell the former off. Bucky shuts his mouth now, though. And just listens as Steve’s voice grows softer, eyes no longer dancing in humor. “But I know you’re fuckin’ miserable, too.”

He knows there’s no point denying it. No point denying what’s so plainly written across his face.

But he tries anyway. “M’not miserable. I’m ha—”

“You can be both.” Steve, unwrapping the parchment from his sandwich, keeps his eyes on the television. “It’s possible to be happy for her but miserable at the idea of it all deep down. S’why I thought you might wanna move out.”

“She’d still go on dates if I’d moved out.”

“You wouldn’t have to watch her going on them.”

“I’m okay with her dating.”

“I’m okay with a lotta things, too. Doesn’t mean I wanna see it all happen in front of me.”

Bucky watches as Steve takes an impossibly large bite out of the sandwich, Russian dressing smearing over his lips. “I’ve got a date, too.”

“Buck,” Steve’s mouth is full. Horribly so. And Bucky scowls at the sound of his thick voice. “This ain’t a date. Don’t know how many times I gotta tell you. I just don’t feel that way about you, man.”

A sarcastic smile and even more dry laugh. “Shut the fuck up. I’m talking about Connie.”

Steve scowls as he swallows. “That perky little brunette from the bar?”

“Perky?”

“I can just look at her and tell she was on her high school cheerleading squad.” Around another bite, he adds, “Seems nice enough, I guess.”

“She is nice.” He pauses only to mumble more to himself, “And emotionally available.”

Steve cocks an eyebrow and briefly looks at Bucky in skepticism. “What, you determined that from just a few days of talking?”

“On the second day she told me she’s liked me since freshman year orientation.” He sighs your name then. Slowly. Laboriously. “She was somethin’ else entirely. You know how long it took her to admit she liked me?”

Steve nods upwards and flips the channel when the commentators on the pregame show begin to argue.

“Took her three months after we started dating to admit she liked me. And she never said it again after that.”

Steve drags the back of his hand over his lips, wiping off a bit of stray dressing. In visible disgust, he wipes his hand on the discarded butcher paper. “Some people show their feelings rather than say them.”

Bucky seems to smile at that. Unbeknownst to himself, there’s a slow grin spreading over his lips.

He thinks of instances. Instances when silence would act as a wall but actions a wrecking ball.

The morning after your third date when you’d tried your best— despite your absolute inability to cook— to make the breakfast he always orders at the diner in Astoria.

The eggs were runny in places, burnt in others and the bacon was traumatically floppy under a layer of not-even-close-to rendered fat and added oil. You’d apologized as he scrubbed the pan and plates, bright yellow dish rag waving as you insisted repeatedly that you couldn’t live if you’d given the guy you’d only just begun to date salmonella.

Independence day when you’d Irish-goodbyed from Steve’s birthday party only twenty minutes after arriving to steal away to the rooftop of Mama Wilson’s brownstone in Harlem.

You’d said something about fireworks and pizza, a six-pack of beer already snagged off the kitchen counter. Played it off as Sam’s idea, his house keys in the pocket of the navy blue bomber jacket you’d “borrowed” from Bucky. Nothing about Bucky’s hatred of parties at the Rogers-Wilson residence, though. Not even a hint until he overheard your apologies to Sam’s mother for the intrusion— an apology you later denied, kissing him silly to make him forget any further questions.

The week before you’d broken up— a week Bucky remembers less for the distance you’d successfully created— when you sought comfort in him after a long day.

Your boots had been kicked off by the door, your bag and its contents scattered beside them. You’d tearfully slurred words together, words he barely caught, in explanation. Something about work, and school, and your mother’s unnecessary opinions about your major and future. Something which forced sobs from your chest as you set your head against his. You’d wrapped your arms around him tightly, the two of you huddled together on his worn barcalounger as he stroked your hair and pressed kisses to the crown of your head.

It’s well after the game has ended— Steve vengefully chowing down on your once-hidden stash of This is for when I have my period chocolate, Bucky barely paying attention to the episode of The Office the two had resorted to watching— when you come home.

Hair mussed, lips swollen with gloss smudged every which way, you stumble through the doorway with a laughed, “No more rule-breaking on the first date, T’Challa.”

The door is shut and locked just as T’Challa begins to respond. You spin and press your back to it, still laughing but quietly, more to yourself. You open your mouth to greet Steve and Bucky, both looking at you in either confusion or amusement, but shut it as a knock at the door cuts you off.

“I’ll call you,” T’Challa promises through the wood. There’s a chuckle laced through his words, a smile in his voice.

Exaggeratedly, you scoff. Still grinning however. “Who calls?”

“I do,” he replies without concern that your neighbors may complain about his volume. “And you’re gonna pick up.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yeah, you are. ‘Night.”

You don’t respond beyond a hum and stand at the door until you’re sure he’s gone. A nod to yourself and you step away as you remove that navy blue bomber jacket to toss it onto the counter. You also toss a smile over your shoulder to Bucky. “You here just to eat my chocolate, Rogers?”

“No,” Steve says without a glance in your direction. “I ate your ice cream, too.”

You shut the freezer. Empty-handed. Frowning. “Your stomach’s just a bottomless pit, huh?”

“I’m a growing boy.”

“Have I told you how uncomfortable it makes me when you call your grown-ass self a boy?” you remark, settling for a bottle of water from the refrigerator. You pause before shutting the heavy steel door. “You clear out all the leftovers, too?”

Steve peers at Bucky, the latter stuck in a thoughtful, sad stare, and nods. “Yeah. We’re all out of food at my place and I don’t get paid ‘til tomorrow night.”

You’re frowning in consideration as you walk to the barcalounger and fall into it sideways, legs swung over the opposite armrest you’ve set your back against. “Fair enough. How was your day, Buck?”

The question breaks him from whatever daze he’d fallen into and he blinks. Averts a steady gaze when you shift a bit to look at him. “The Jags won.”

You smile. It’s warm, a little honeyed. “Is that good or bad?”

“Neutral.” He can’t help but smile himself. It doesn’t even falter as he asks, “How was your date?”

A shrug. Your eyes narrow at Michael Scott as he attempts to toss pizza dough. “T’Challa got a large popcorn at the movies.”

“Damn, he’s got money.”

You laugh, startled. Bucky grins when you do, too. “That’s what I said! I also beat your high score at pinball in the theater arcade.”

“Went on a date with a guy who’s got money, beat my pinball score. You’ve just had a magical day, haven’t you?”

There’s a softness and affection in the way Bucky speaks and looks at you, your responding giggles just as sweet. Steve, sitting between the two of you, almost feels as if he’s intruding on something, an empathetic ache in his chest as he watches. “Explain the pinball thing.”

“Bucky and I went to the movies last month and fucked around the arcade while waiting for our showtime. And he got so competitive.” You roll your eyes at the memory. “We ended up missing the movie because he was determined to beat the high score this poor kid had just set when we got there. Took him hours and, like, forty bucks in tokens.”

“It didn’t take me hours.”

“We got there in the afternoon and by the time we left, the employees were cleaning the popcorn machines,” your expression and tone leave no room for argument. “Only took me two hours.”

Steve looks between you two, fighting the urge to scoff at the satisfaction in your eyes and the combination of annoyance and so much adoration in Bucky’s. “Two hours? You miss the movie again?”

“No, I snuck out before the movie ended. Said I had to pee and went straight to the machine so none of the kids in our auditorium could take it before I got there.” You ignore Steve’s disappointed gaze. “T’Challa was confused and probably unhappy I made him sit there for so long while I played.”

“Probably unhappy?”

“I didn’t ask.” A nonchalant shrug and you flash them a knowing smile. “Beating Bucky’s score was my priority so I could come in here and casually mention it like I’m not bragging only to bring it up everyday for the rest of his life.”

Your eyes meet Bucky’s and, at the look you’re giving him, Bucky has to remind himself that the two of you are no longer in a relationship and he can’t just kiss the arrogance away. “Sucker.”

—

It’s a makeup caboodle.

Pale pink and lime green. A tropical flower sticker pasted to the clasp. There’s a ribbon tied to the handle— deep magenta velvet in a neat bow.

It’s unassuming. A little innocent looking. Like it should belong to a seventh grader in the nineties just learning how to use glitter eyeshadow and lip balm palettes.

It’s when you pop it open, the mirror attachment springing up only to reflect Wanda’s skeptical features, that the pungent smell permeates throughout the kitchen and small living room. Skunky, but a little floral.

A speckled glass pipe, multicolored glaze splattered over a white base, sits in the top compartment alongside a few toothpicks and a package of rolling papers. In the compartment directly below rests a round steel grinder, three-tiered and emblazoned with the engravement of a manufacturer’s name.

The biggest compartment holds many small glass jars. Tiny mason jars you’d bought at a flea market. All different colors, all labeled with white circular stickers.

Wanda sits up in her stool at the sight, pulls the caboodle toward herself and sifts through the jars. She removes three of the jars and looks at you with widened eyes. “You’re insane.”

You shrug and take the grinder when she hands it to you. “I like being organized.”

“You should see her room,” Bucky says as he shuts his bedroom door behind him, shoes in hand. He smiles at the two of you, beard freshly trimmed to just barely above stubble and eyes a bright blue. “Most organized mess I’ve ever seen.”

You nod, tearing a bit of the sour diesel bud apart to place carefully between the metal teeth in the topmost chamber. You smile at her from your spot atop the counter, legs folded and back pressed against the shelves behind you. “There’s a method to my madness, Wan. Hand me a toothpick.”

She complies and removes a blue jar without a label. “What’s in this one?”

“Blue dream. Jar’s blue and I ran out of stickers.” There’s a click as the lid is magnetically snapped back onto the grinder. You twist it to the left twice, then to the right once. “You picking her up or meeting her there?”

Bucky, leant against the wall as he slips his shoes on, looks up. “What says ‘This is a real date, not a hookup’?”

“Going to dinner and not having sex after.”

He replies with a dry laugh and narrowed eyes. “Which of the two options— picking her up or meeting there— says that?”

“Picking her up.” You tear the stem off the bottom of the bud and place it as a barrier over the hole in the pipe’s bowl. “Might be too late to tell her that now, though.”

“Already told her I’d pick her up. I was just making sure I did the right thing.” You see his lips spread into a self-satisfied smirk when you finish filling the bowl. “Looks like I did.”

You smile back, though sarcastically. “Girls like a little humility in the guys they date, you know.”

“She’s liked me for three years now,” he says. He pulls on a jacket and pats every pocket on him to make sure he’s got his wallet and keys. “She knows what she’s herself getting into.”

“Bucky, baby, I live with you and I had no idea what I was getting myself into.”

Wanda snorts a laugh at that, taking the pipe and a bright pink lighter from you.

Bucky’s eyes fall into a glare. “So normal first dates don’t end in sex?”

“No, they don’t. Most people actually wait until after the third date. It’s, like, in the dating manual for successful relationships.”

“Huh,” he breathes. He takes his phone when you remove it from the charger to pass it to him, smiling up at you. “Looks like we were doomed from the start.”

“Maybe.” You watch as Wanda exhales a steady stream of opaque smoke punctuated by a soft cough. You slide her bottle of water to her. “Or maybe we’re the exception to the rule. Apart, we should follow normal date conventions. But together, we were too hot to wait that long.”

Wanda hands you the pipe and lighter. “What happened to humility?”

Before sparking the lighter, you answer, “I’m not dating a girl.”

Your next inhale, once you’ve adequately charred the top layer of pot, burns in your throat and you hold it in your chest. You smile at Bucky when he shoots you a sly grin, lips in a cirlce as you exhale. “Have fun. Don’t order the tiramisu. They skimp on the espresso.”

He nods once and straightens his jacket. You watch as he unlocks the door, opens it, and steps through with a simple wave. Your eyes remain on the door even after it shuts.

It isn’t until Wanda’s fingers brush yours that you break your stare. “What?” the question is nearly barked when she offers you a look of something eerily similar pity.

“Nothing! You just— You look a little lovelorn.”

Your features crumple. “Ew. No, I don’t. I look amazing, you look lovelorn.”

“Okay, Queen of the land Defensiva,” she mutters once she’s exhaled. “I’m just saying. You were staring at that door like you want to take it home to meet your mother.”

“Maybe I do. It’s a nice color. I picked the yellow out myself.”

“Nat told me about that night at the bar. About how Bucky flirted with that Connie chick right in front of you.” She watches as you take a hit and your head lolls back against the shelves. “That must have sucked.”

“It did.” You trace the bumps on the ceiling and sigh. “But it’s okay. Larger picture, broad scheme of things. It’s okay.”

“What’s that mean?”

A shrug. You take a sip from your own bottle of water. “We’re both okay. We’re both moving on, we’re still able to be friends and roommates. I can sit here and watch him go on dates with her if that’s what it takes. A little pain for the larger cause.”

There’s a beat of silence as Wanda takes a long drag. You break it as you muse, “Do we talk about this shit too much?”

“Yeah, maybe. Should we order a pizza?”

CHAPTER 5: ARE YOU OVERCOMPENSATING?

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #a8c

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lunetheaveragefan · 3 years

Text

‘one day...’

Hey y’all! This chapter was supposed to be posted last Monday but last week was so busy for me and I forgot. So finally, here is chapter 7! Chapter 8 was supposed to be posted next week, but I’m going to continue with my typical two week schedule so I don’t forget again! Hope you enjoy!

A Sander Sides high school AU

Pairing: Prinxiety and some background Logicality

Summary: Virgil is used to being alone. He only has one friend, Logan. But when Logan makes a new friend, things begin to change as two more join their group. Roman, a boisterous theater kid, seems determined to destroy Virgil’s lonely, average life. How much will Virgil’s life change?

Warnings: swearing; brief mention of a panic attack; eating; if you notice anything else, let me know!

Word Count: 2557 words

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CHAPTER SEVEN

Virgil exits the auditorium with Patton and Logan, grinning.

“He did so good!” Patton exclaims. Before either of the others have a chance to respond, Patton continues, “It was like he was a completely different person! Here, let’s go congratulate him!” Virgil and Logan follow Patton down a few crowded hallways, weaving in and out of people talking to other members of the cast.

“Roman!” Patton yells, waving his arms. Virgil catches sight of Roman, stepping out of a set of heavy doors. Behind him, it’s dark, but Virgil can make out a folding table and the edges of black curtains. Backstage. Then, a group of people walk in front of them, and Virgil loses sight of Roman.

Without hesitation, Patton grabs Logan’s hand and begins to shove people aside, muttering a few cheerful ‘Excuse me’s and ‘Sorry’s. Before Virgil has a chance to get a hold of Logan, they’re lost in the crowd.

Well, what the heck do I do now? Virgil wonders, chuckling softly. A hand brushes his arm at the same time a voice says, “Hey. Where are the others?”

After seeing who it is, Virgil laughs and answers, “They went to look for you.” Roman slaps his forehead with his palm, uttering a sound that’s half-sigh, half-laugh. He rises up to his toes, straining to look over people’s heads.

“This same goddamn thing happens every year. You would think we’d learn by now.” Roman looks back down at Virgil, and at the very second he does, Virgil sees Patton pop up above the rest of the crowd. Pointing so Roman will see, Virgil waves his other hand to catch Patton’s attention. It works, and Roman grabs Virgil’s hand, causing his heart to skip a beat.

After a lot of pushing and shoving, the two of them reach Patton and Logan, standing pressed up against the wall next to a chair. So that’s how Patton got so tall all of a sudden. The second Patton sees them, he starts to gush about the performance.

“That was so good, Roman!” Patton exclaims clapping his hands in glee. He bounces on the balls of his feet, a wide smile spread across his face. “We all loved it and we’re so proud of you and it sounded so good and I think Virgil might’ve even been crying—” Virgil blushes when Roman looks at him with a shocked expression—“I’m not sure I couldn’t see through my own tears. But for real it was so good, like, I can’t even believe it was put on by high schoolers—” Logan places a hand on Patton’s shoulder. The action confirms to Virgil that Logan definitely has some sort of crush on Patton; Logan never really touches anyone in any way, with the occasional exception of Virgil.

“Sorry,” Patton says, grinning sheepishly. Roman chuckles and looks at Patton, appreciation covering his face.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you came. All of you.” Roman’s smile at him, although no more than a few seconds, makes butterflies erupt in Virgil’s stomach. He smiles back hesitantly, an intense debate going on in his head.

C’mon, tell him how much you liked it! one side says.

No! He won’t think it’s sincere. He’ll just figure you’re copying Patton, the other says back.

Maybe he will take it seriously! Maybe then you’ll have a better chance with him!

Better chance? You don’t actually like him, do you?

Of course he does! The butterflies, dreams, that’s the only logical conclusion!

Shut up, Virgil interrupts. I’ll tell him good job, but as a friend. Because I don’t like him. He’s still Roman Princeford. Have you all forgotten what happened freshman year? That ends the argument in its tracks. He gathers his courage, a rolling knot of apprehension twisting in his stomach.

“Yeah, it was really good, Roman,” Virgil compliments. “Although, Patton, you didn’t need to freaking snitch on me and how I was crying.” Patton shrugs, like ‘What can you do?’ Virgil chuckles, shaking his head.

“Wait, you were actually crying?” Roman asks. When Virgil turns back to look at Roman, he bursts out laughing at his face. It’s filled with complete and utter shock, eyes wide, mouth in a small, disbelieving ‘o’ shape. It seems so much like a face a cartoon character would make that Virgil can’t control his laughter. “What?”

“Your—Your face—” Virgil manages between wheezes. Roman punches Virgil in the arm.

“Stop. That’s not nice.” His words sound angry, but he’s smiling and his tone — and punch — are light.

“Sorry, sorry,” Virgil says, taking deep breaths to hold the laughter in. “It was just so comically shocked. But yes. I did actually cry. And don’t seem so surprised this time.”

“Honestly, your laugh was more surprising. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh like that. It’s a nice sound,” Roman admits, his face filled with something that seems awfully close to adoration. But then he blinks, and his smile is just an ordinary, million-dollar, Roman Princeford smile. It wouldn’t matter if he said it with contempt, because the compliment would’ve still sent a flood of warmth through Virgil. His heart is racing, but this time, not out of panic.

Tearing his eyes away from Roman and trying to inconspicuously grit his teeth, which is no easy feat, Virgil thinks, What is going on? It’s just a compliment. It’s not like you have a crush on him or anything.

“Anyway,” Roman starts, addressing the whole group, “I better go find my parents so they can fawn over me like I’m next Lin-Manuel Miranda or Leslie Odom Jr.” Upon seeing everyone’s blank looks, his eyes widen and he says, “Hamilton stars? Only some of the best singers to ever step foot on Broadway? Voices like goddamn angels who can, for some reason, also rap?” When everyone shakes their head, he sighs. “I swear, you guys must be living under a rock. But anyway, Imma head out. We’ll meet by door 10 at, say, 9:00, for the sleepover?”

Patton and Logan nod their heads and immediately start talking to each other, Patton’s hands moving animatedly.

“Sleepover?” Virgil asks.

“Yeah, Patton and I have a tradition where after every show or any big event with one of our activities, we have a sleepover. Even if it went terribly. He didn’t tell you?” Virgil shakes his head. Roman smiles and continues, “Well, you won’t want to miss it. Door 10 at 9, got it?” Once Virgil gives him confirmation, Roman turns and disappears into the crowd.

Virgil stares after him, a strange feeling welling up inside him. And this time, when the possibility of a crush comes up in his thoughts, he doesn’t dismiss it immediately.

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

Virgil sits against Roman’s wall, an excessive amount of pillows behind his back, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, a comparison that Patton has already, unfortunately, made.

“I still cannot comprehend how you possibly require this immense amount of pillows,” Logan persists. He can’t stop marveling over how many pillows Roman has on his bed. It’s about the 4th time he’s mentioned it.

“Logan, dude, just let it go,” Virgil chuckles, throwing the stuffed bear next to him. It hits Logan, who’s sitting on the floor, square in the side of his head. He opens his mouth to protest, but Roman interrupts him.

“Hey, don’t throw King Snuffles. He doesn’t deserve this abuse.” Roman leans over to pick the bear off the floor. Cradling it in his arms, he glares at Virgil.

“You named your bear King Snuffles?” Virgil questions, not all that surprised. Roman gasps and fakes being offended.

“Yes,” he replies, his voice scandalized. “And what the hell of it?” Virgil puts his hands up in surrender.

“Woah. Nothing, I guess, if you’re going to get so defensive about it.” He pulls the blanket, which fell down when he put up his hands, back around him. There’s too much on his head, so it falls in front of his face. Before he can reach up to push it up, a hand does it for him. Roman smiles at him, patting his head after setting the blanket there. Virgil rolls his eyes.

He hopes the yellow-orange LED lights and the shadows from the blanket hide the blush creeping across his cheeks.

“I’m hungry so I’m gonna head and get snacks,” Roman announces, turning and sling his legs over the edge of the bed to stand. Patton bolts to his feet.

“No, no, I’ll do it,” he says, clearly up to something. “And Logan will come with me.”

“Well, actually—” Logan begins. Patton elbows him, and he changes course. “I guess I’m going with.” On their way out, Patton gives Roman an exaggerated wink. Roman, in lieu of a response, gives him an exasperated, I’m-so-done kind of look. Virgil can’t say for sure, but when Roman looks back at him, he thinks Roman’s blushing.

“So…” Roman starts, biting his lip and fidgeting with his fingers. Virgil’s never seen him look this unsure. He’s used to a confident, brash, slightly egotistical Roman. To his surprise, he almost prefers this side of Roman.

Virgil must lose his mind for a little, because he’s definitely not acting like himself when he suggests, “Pillow fight?” and right after, grabs a pillow and flings it at Roman, whacking him in the face.

A borderline-evil smile appears on Romans face as he says, “Oh, you’re on.” Virgil’s senses pick that exact moment to come back, but he can’t take it back now. So he does the only thing he can do: slings the pillow again. Chaos erupts, and a Virgil verse Roman pillow fight begins.

As he throws and gets hit by pillows, Virgil laughs and yells, heart pounding, breathing in quick bursts, but this feels better than panic attacks. Happiness. It’s something Virgil doesn’t feel a whole lot since he spends most of his life stuck in a state of anxiety. It’s nice to be happy again.

He’s so lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice the pillow coming towards him until it slaps him in the face. Virgil falls backwards, head landing, conveniently, on a pillow. He sits up and hits Roman with it, and they’re at it again.

When Roman starts to fall off the bed, Virgil starts to laugh. But then he realizes that somehow, they’d gotten tangled in a blanket, and if Roman is going down, Virgil will too. Shrieking in surprise, Virgil instinctively closes his eyes as he’s yanked off the bed. A pillow hits the back of his head once he’s landed. He laughs and opens his eyes to see Roman directly under him. There’s no doubt about it now; Roman is definitely blushing. For that matter, so is Virgil.

There’s also no way Virgil can deny his crush anymore. But that doesn’t mean he has to deal with it, right? ...Right...

Desperate to put an end to the awkwardness, Virgil stands and offers his hand to Roman. He takes it and pulls himself to his feet. They make eye contact for a second before Virgil looks down at his hands. I wonder what would’ve happened if I’d kissed him.

Nope, nope, nope. Not gonna think about that. Don’t have to deal with that, remember?

“I, uh, wonder what’s taking Patton and Logan so long with the snacks,” Roman finally says, breaking the tense silence. Virgil wants to sigh in relief.

Instead, he simply responds, “I’m not sure. Let’s go see.” They walk to the landing of the stairs. Strangely, there isn’t any sound coming from the kitchen. After walking down the first few steps, Virgil can see into the room. What he sees should come as a surprise, but it really doesn’t.

Apparently, trying to set up Roman and Virgil wasn’t the only reason why Patton wanted Logan to come with. Logan is pressed up against the counter, hand wrapped around Patton’s waist as they kiss. Patton’s palms hold Logan’s face, tilting it down to account for the inches Logan has on him.

Roman, standing right behind Virgil, mutters, “Okay. Okay then.” Virgil starts to laugh but forces himself to stop so Logan or Patton don’t hear. Carefully, they creep back to the bedroom, letting them have their moment.

“So how long do you think that’s been going on for?” Roman asks once they’re back sitting on his bed, Virgil back to being wrapped up in his blanket cocoon again.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Virgil admits. “I kinda figured Logan had a crush on Patton, but I didn’t think they would actually get together, at least not this soon.”

“Yeah ever since their chemistry project, Patton's been crushing on Logan hard. He doesn’t shut up about it. Apparently,” Roman says, leaning in conspiratorially, “they’ve been talking a lot. Patton’s been so tired lately cuz they’re up til, like, 1 AM, video chatting.”

“That is news to me.” Virgil pauses, staring at the door. The two of them sit in silence for a while — comfortable silence — just waiting for Patton and Logan to reappear with the snacks they were supposed to be bringing. After about 10 more minutes, Virgil turns to Roman and asks, “Do you think I should call them up? They’ve been down there for an awful long time.”

“Yeah. The last thing I want is for them to have sex on my kitchen counter.” Virgil winces at the image that appears in his head at the words.

After Roman yells down to Logan and Patton, Virgil says, “Oh, god. Please never say anything like that again. I do not need that image in my head.” Roman laughs.

“An image of what?” Patton asks, walking in the room with Logan not far behind. Thankfully, they had the decency to pretend like they weren’t just making out. But Patton didn’t have so much decency to pretend like he hadn’t been eavesdropping on their conversation. They drop a few Halloween-size, assorted candy bulk bags and two big bowls of popcorn on the bed.

“Nothing,” Virgil answers, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoving it in his mouth. “Ooh, Sour Patch Kids.” He grabs four individual bags of them and drops them in his lap.

“Jeez, hungry much?” Roman teases. Virgil flips him off and takes another handful of popcorn. Roman tries to sneakily grab a handful of mini bars from the bag of chocolate-based candy, but Virgil notices.

“Jeez, hypocritical much?” he quips, smirking.

“Oh, fuck off,” Roman responds, sticking his tongue out like a little kid. Virgil sticks his out right back. Patton, who, unsurprisingly, hates swearing, quickly attempts to change the subject.

“Hey, I have an idea! Let’s play Two Truths, One Lie! Then we can get to know each other better!” he suggests. The rest of them agree, and Patton goes first. They take turns, occasionally sharing stories and facts about themselves. And when they get bored of Two Truths, One Lie, they switch to Truth or Dare, and Virgil has to eat a spoonful of mayo.

Patton’s the first to fall asleep. Not long after, around 2 AM, Roman and Logan follow. Virgil sits wrapped in his blanket cocoon in the darkened bedroom. He stares out the window at the dim stars, thinking about how lucky he is. He has three great friends who he can make memories and laugh with.

He turns to look at Roman, asleep on the bed beside him.

“Thank you,” he whispers, “for surprising me.”

#virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #prinxiety #logicality #sanders sides #high school au #fanfiction #fanfic #one day...

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thespacebetweenworlds · 3 years

Note

so... i’m not actually in the witcher fandom, nor do i know the most about it...but i still think you should write witcher!hyunjin + bard!jisung. i just approve of the notion idk

I WROTE IT!!!! lmao, be proud of me! this was a whole ride and I loved every second. I hope you’ll find this amusing, too!

Here's the tags: KPOP RPF, Stray Kids Fanfic, Han Jisung/Hwang Hyunjin, rated T, warnings for violence and blood, Witcher AU, 5k, complete. Read it on ao3 here or continue forth below the cut.

Inspired by this Witcher!Hyunjin edit. Beta’d by Reltic, who writes very good skz fic y’all should go read it <3

Anyway let me know what you think :]

Hyunjin punched him in the face.

… by accident. That was important. Or it would be important, if Hyunjin didn’t wish he could punch the annoying bard a second time.

Unfortunately, they were currently caught and bound in the bandits’ cave, back to back, and if Hyunjin wanted to break free fast, the knife in his arm guard would also stab the annoying bard in the back. And he had to admit that that annoying mouth was currently the only thing preventing the bandits from slashing their throats and leaving them to bleed out in a ditch.

Fuck.

So Hyunjin lost himself in the memory of the bard’s stupid soft cheek on his knuckles, the impact he felt before the bard’s head snapped back and he stumbled away. The blood on his teeth when he smiled up at Hyunjin, who had honestly (oh, his past self new nothing) meant to punch the lackey of the village’s head who refused to pay him. The space around the bar had been packed, and someone was pushed into the lackey just before Hyunjin hit him.

The annoying bard.

Hyunjin, feeling sorry and embarrassed, had kicked the lackey a few metres away, relishing in the thump of a body against the wall and then the following slump to the floor accompanied with the sudden scared quiet of the room. And then he’d glared at the guys who had been pushing the annoying bard and escorted him out, meaning to apologise. He had not meant for the annoying bard to follow him on the dusty dirt road to the next village and never stop talking.

“You really should let us go, my dudes,” the annoying bard laughed – Jisung, oh how Hyunjin wished he didn’t know that name – “I mean come on, have you ever seen a man as beautiful as him? It would be a crime to kill us, a crime.”

The first that hit Jisung’s bruised face after that was deserved, and Hyunjin wished he was the one who did the punching.

“You trespassed into our territory, we will do as we wish,” one of the bandits crossed his head and lifted his chin as if he was almighty. For the moment, he was. “We have heard of a witcher with ties to the queen, and we can’t let him run to her and tell her about our secret drug ring.”

Hyunjin closed his eyes and groaned quietly. Life was just out to get him specifically.

“Ah, we don’t kiss and tell,” Jisung said, and Hyunjin just knows he’s winking and putting on his ‘flirting’ face. “Wait, Hyunjinnie, you know the queen? Me too!”

Hyunjin wished he could close his ears too. Those were definitely the words the bandits needed to hear right now. Yes. Good thinking there, Jisung.

“Who are you that you know the queen?” Another of the bandits spoke up, walking closer. “Maybe we can exchange your dead remains for money.”

Jisung, at least, had nothing to say to that. “Ahaha, a joke, of course! How would I know the queen! Why would he know the queen? He’s a witcher, not a witch.”

Hyunjin groaned. “The queen and I are on bad terms right now, and I won’t tell her about your drug ring because I will kill you all.”

Finally, blessed silence. Hyunjin counted his heartbeats and breaths, relaxing his shoulders. Quiet. Nice. Now if only there was a breeze carrying some fresh mountain air.

“Hey,” Jisung hissed, “don’t encourage them!”

And the room broke in frantic yells and panic as they tried to decide what to do since both their prisoners apparently knew the ruler of the kingdom, except of course if they were lying. Hyunjin sighed.

“Hyunjin,” Jisung whispered, shuffling around, “how do we escape? You have a plan, right?”

Hyunjin took a deep breath. “I have a knife in my boot,” he told Jisung quietly, “if we stand up at the same time, I can take it, and cut us free.”

Jisung let out a breath. “Oh, that’s good! I knew you got this.”

Hyunjin just brought his legs under him, swiping the dagger from his boot – really, what kind of bandits didn’t tie their prisoner’s legs? – and as he stood with Jisung scrambling to his feet himself, he cut the ropes tying them together.

The bandits noticed a second too late, and drew their swords a second too late. Two put up half a fight, but soon they all lay dead on the floor, blood splattered all over Hyunjin. Hyunjin wrinkled his nose, and made an attempt to wipe the blood off of his daggers on the only bandit who still had a clean shirt.

“Where did that second dagger come from?” Jisung, his wrists still bound, interrupted Hyunjin.

“You’re still here?” Hyunjin shoved the daggers back, one into his boot and the other under his arm guard where it was concealed under black leather.

“Wait so you could have broken free all along with the dagger in your sleeve? Why didn’t you…” understanding slowly crawled across his expressive face, followed by a bright smile. “Hyunjin! I knew you care about me!”

“I don’t,” Hyunjin said, but somehow couldn’t stop himself from untying Jisung’s hands. He took his sword from where the bandits had tossed it in a corner and drew the blade. More bandits would still be outside. Jisung picked up his lute and hugged it close to his chest.

As Hyunjin had expected, a few bandits were in the surrounding woods, just far enough to not have heard their companions’ dying screams. Hyunjin killed the ones that attacked him and let the others run away.

When he reached the road, he lifted his fingers to his mouth and whistled.

Loud breathing and stomping reached him not much later.

“Hyunjinnie!” Jisung emerged behind him, cheeks flushed under his bruised face, lute strapped to his back. “I don’t understand how –” he gasped for air, “– you can run through the woods so fast. Wait for me.”

Hyunjin, however, only had eyes for the beauty that approached him now. “Kkami!”

Kkami was his trusted companion and only friend. And a horse. But she was the best. Better than all humans he ever met. A good listener too. And quiet. Unlike a certain annoying bard.

“Oh, pretty,” Jisung stumbled towards Kkami, who neatly stepped around him as if he was just an unusual kind of tree.

“I’m so proud of you,” Hyunjin whispered to her, leaning his forehead against hers and stroking her long neck. Kkami was truly his only friend.

Hyunjin climbed up on her back in one smooth move. He patted the parts of her neck he could reach and steered her down the road with his legs alone. She started walking in a comfortable walk, one that she would be able to hold for days. The sun was high in the sky, the trees green, the birds singing. It was calm now. The breeze smelled of forest and moss and rotting leaves and flowers in bloom. Hyunjin could hear his own heartbeat as well as Kkami’s, their breaths aligning like they so often did on long journeys.

It was wonderful.

Except that his and Kkami’s weren’t the only heartbeats he heard.

“Oh, can I also ride on your horse? No? Alright then, it’s your horse, I understand. Did you call her Kkami? That’s so cute. Like you! You were so badass back there, I had literal goosebumps. I must admit the blood splattered clothes fit you very well. And did you see their faces when they realised we got free? And oh, we busted a drug ring, if you were on good terms with the queen we could totally go to the capital and receive money for doing good deeds in the name of the crown. But alas, we’ll have to live as vagabonds! Lonely heroes on their way to defeat evil!”

Yup. There he was.

“I should write a song about it. I can write a song about us. I will write a song about you! Hyunjin, how do you feel about songs? I promise I’ll also credit Kkami with defeating a villain, of course, she’s lovely. Do you think a long ballad would be suitable? Or a drinking song? If you don’t mind, I’ll try some freestyles, yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Ah, but I write my songs by freestyling! I just start singing, play some chords, and continue until I find sounds and words I like. You know, as a starving artist with only my lute, I can’t rely on making notes and writing my lyrics down, I have to memorize them as I come up with them! So talking to myself helps with that, obviously. And now I have you, too! You will help me, right?”

Hyunjin contemplated kicking Jisung in the face. It would… even be possible, he realised as he studied the distance between his leg and Jisung’s head. He’d have to stretch weirdly though, and unless he shifted his weight, the kick wouldn’t be very strong. The movement would surprise Kkami though, and while she definitely wouldn’t mind or be inconvenienced, Hyunjin was sitting comfortable and breathing in synchrony with her.

Why mess that up? He could just pretend he wasn’t hearing anything, anything at all. A fly, maybe. A bee. Human voices? The last time he heard a human speak was one of the bandits, before he stabbed him in the chest with his sword and left the body in the shrubbery.

Oh, the calmness of the forest… so quiet… so nice.

In the late afternoon, the trees gave way to the next village, with fields spreading out into wasteland and far away mountains. The village was just big enough to have a bit of stone ground in the middle, with a river and a mill. An inn sat in it’s center.

Hyunjin sighed. He had exactly no money, which meant he’d have to ask for a job first before he could rent a room. However, he had yet to see a village that didn’t have at least one monster to get rid of. It just meant he’d have to go monster hunting before he could go to sleep for a day.

“Oh, are we staying here, Hyunjin?” Jisung stood in front of Hyunjin when he jumped off Kkami. And Jisung grinned. He swaggered towards the door of the inn. “I don’t have money, but I’m sure I can get us a room in exchange for entertainment! I’ll sing of your victories, witcher, and the town will love you!”

“Uh… bard,” Hyunjin said, because he’d actually have to warn him, didn’t he? “Jisung.”

Jisung turned to him with wide eyes and his grin turned into a soft smile.

“That might not help. As a witcher, people don’t usually… like… it… when I’m around.” Hyunjin gestured to his appearance, dark leather armour splattered with blood. Long white hair bound together but he knew there were leaves caught in it. It really spoke for itself. His glowing eyes didn’t help his case. “I’ll ask for a monster to kill, which will hopefully get us a meal and a room, and Kkami a place in a stable. That’s all, and only if we’re lucky.”

A look of something crossed Jisung’s face, there and gone too fast for Hyunjin to read. He squared his shoulders and bared his teeth. “Trust me on this, Hyunjin.”

And Jisung sauntered into the inn as if he owned it.

Hyunjin and Kkami shared a look. “I don’t know either, Kkami, sweetheart,” Hyunjin sighed.

Kkami neighed quietly.

“I know, I know, I better go and save his ass or something,” Hyunjin cringed. He was actually going to, wasn’t he?

Kkami snorted.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “Yah, don’t laugh at me! Wait here, okay? If anyone comes at you, you know how to drop kick them.”

Jisung had maybe one minute alone in the inn. Somehow, Hyunjin expected there to be fire and screaming and new bruises on Jisung’s annoying face.

One minute, and yet what Hyunjin found when he opened the door was Jisung pointing a finger at him, yelling, and cheering from a crowd of mostly drunk farmers and a handful of young women who curiously turned their heads.

“That’s him!” Jisung was laughing, too. “He saved my life.”

Hyunjin didn’t have time to process that before he was shoved next to Jisung by a smiling man with a long beard and a cup of beer was handed to him. The women oohed and aahed.

“Jisung-ssi, why didn’t you say he’s pretty?”

“Mr Bard, he truly looks as beautiful as you said! A hero!”

“To have defeated a Barghest! I’ll drink to that!”

Jisung cheered with the small crowd, and Hyunjin lifted his beer in cheers, setting it back down when it seemed like most people were briefly shifting their attention to their own drinks. Alcohol did nothing for him, and he didn’t like beer. Jisung swiftly switched his own cup with Hyunjin’s, and when Hyunjin brought the cup up to his face, he noticed it was water.

“I told you to trust me, Hyunjin,” Jisung said quietly.

Hyunjin could only nod.

“Oh, your hair is so pretty,” one of the older women said, sliding into the seat next to him. “I’m the co-owner of this establishment, by the way.”

“Um, thank you,” Hyunjin swallowed a mouthful of water. “I’ve been meaning to ask if you had a job for me here.”

Jisung, now a few metres away, strung his lute and started singing a catchy song about ‘that time a handsome witcher saved me from the beast’ which, despite his raspy throat, sounded good – if you could ignore the terrible text. And the fact that it was all lies. Well, Hyunjin had to admit that he did save Jisung from certain death, but there was nothing heroic about it, and Hyunjin also hadn’t taken off his clothes to use his undershirt to bind a cut on Jisung’s ankle.

“We are uncertain still,” the woman quickly tugged Hyunjin out of his thoughts with her serious tone. “A monster dwells upstream. Sometimes the river is dyed red, or pieces of ripped clothing will pass the village. My niece disappeared two weeks ago. One of the farmers went up to see what was causing the issue last week, and he never returned. One of his shoes did, though.”

“Hmm,” Hyunjin nodded. “I have a few ideas of what it might be, and none of them are good.”

The woman nodded, smiling worriedly. “If it really is a… monster, as you say, we will of course pay you accordingly. For now, your drinks are on us – see it as a gesture of good will for saving that bard.”

With a polite smile, she turned to attend a group of newly arrived villagers.

Hyunjin eyed the sliver of fading daylight streaming in through the dirty window. If it really was a drowner, it might move closer to the village when hungry. Drowners lived in streams and ponds and sewers, but if this one was upstream it might not take long for it to decide to live closer to the village. Hyunjin remembered the mill. There must be a body of water directly connected to it.

And if the last death was already a week ago, then he’d have to hurry. He finished his water and got up.

“Jisung,” he said when he reached him and Jisung had taken a small break from singing to hydrate. “I’m going after a monster here. I will be back by moonrise.”

Jisung smiled a gummy smile, eyes sparkling. “You’ll be back?”

“I’ll be back,” Hyunjin agreed, wondering if it would destroy his fragile positive image in the village if he punched Jisung in the face right now. Why bother though, Jisung’s bruises were just reaching their darkest point, another one wouldn’t even be visible.

Hyunjin turned and left, hearing Jisung loudly announce that Hyunjin was going to defeat the monster.

Kkami was eyeing him.

“What,” he grumbled. “So, he was right. So what. I still have to go kill a monster now.”

Kkami snorted judgingly.

Together, they swiftly galloped towards the mill, and in a slower tempo they followed the water upstream.

There were a few hills there, some shrubbery that quickly turned into tall trees, the river courving and going into the forest. The smell was the first thing that told him something was wrong here, so he got off Kkami, drank one of his witcher potions – never a fun experience, the way his insides twisted and bones shuddered just wasn’t a good vibe – and he felt his sight sharpening, eyes turning black.

Kkami, unbothered queen that she was, turned to snack on some leaves.

Hyunjin followed the smell of blood and death deeper into the woods to a clearing. A dark pond greeted him, and yes, this was it. He would never get the smell out of his hair.

He kicked a pebble into the water.

The water made waves, but not the ones physics predicted the pebble would have created.

In the end, killing a drowner wasn’t that much different from killing a human. They were, after all, human shaped with extra gills and fins. Somewhat. The difficulty didn’t lie in their superhuman strength, but Hyunjin was a witcher, and he had drunk his potions. Not even the coldness and darkness of the water surrounding them really bothered Hyunjin.

The difficulty lay in the fact that Hyunjin didn’t like the quiet that came after. He waded out of the pond, wet and cold, hair plastered to his forehead, the slippery head of the drowner in his arms, and what greeted him was cold starlight and absolute silence.

He walked the way back to the village. Kkami was waiting where he left her, but he didn’t want to ruin his saddlebags by getting them wet with smelly pond water and the drowner’s blood.

The moon rose just as he made it back to the village.

And when he opened the door to the inn, the first thing he saw was Jisung’s annoying face. Could his day get any worse after this?

“You’re back!” Jisung smiled again (why did he smile so much, and why did he smile at Hyunjin?) and then he saw the water dripping down his clothes and the monster’s head in his arms. Naturally Hyunjin couldn’t really grab the head in one hand, it was too fishy for that. Jisung winked at him, before turning back to the room. “The witcher defeated the monster! Your village is safe now!”

Cheers sounded through the room, which seemed to be packed with the whole village and not just the handful of farmers from earlier.

“Should I leave the head outside,” Hyunjin asked the woman who had spoken to him earlier.

She took a look and briefly looked nauseous. “Yes, just leave it outside, thank you. I’ll prepare a room and a bath for you, master witcher.”

Hyunjin blinked. He didn’t think he’d ever been addressed with this much honest respect. “Thank you.”

“Follow me.”

Through a crowd of mostly drunk cheering, the owner led him up a narrow stairway in the back, and opened one of the doors for him. There was a fairly big bed, a small window with curtains, and a tub behind a paper screen.

“Uh, excuse me,” Hyunjin stopped the woman just as she walked past him with the promise of getting someone to bring up hot water, “my horse, she’s outside. Could you send someone for her? If it’s too much trouble, is there a stable I can bring her to?”

The woman smiled. “Of course, dear. I’ll send my son, he’ll take good care of your horse.”

Relieved, Hyunjin started to undo the straps of his armour, putting the pieces on the clothes rack next to the tub. Hopefully the leather would be dry by morning. When he was down to his undershirt and pants, the woman returned with two people following behind her, all of them carrying buckets of steaming water.

“Thank you,” Hyunjin smiled politely, only to be told thanks in return, ‘for saving the village.’

… Jisung must be composing an epic ballad.

Tired, Hyunjin decided to not care about that right now, and fully undressed. He was just starting to relax in the hot water when the door behind him opened. Jisung’s familiar heartbeat sounded in the room. Hyunjin closed his eyes and sighed.

“Are you – oh.”

“What,” Hyunjin groaned. “Don’t tell me they only have one guest room and thus you simply must share with me.”

“Ah, yes, actually. How did you know?” Jisung crossed the room and sat next to Hyunjin, keeping his eyes strictly on Hyunjin’s face.

“Just – a hunch, I don’t know. Are you blushing?”

“No.” Jisung blushed.

Hyunjin hummed and started to cover his arms and chest with soap. It smelled too strongly of flowers, but maybe that would cover the lingering smell of blood and forest. He moved on to wash his hair, getting his fingers tangled in the knots.

“Wait,” Jisung interrupted, “let me do that.”

Stunned, Hyunjin didn’t move when Jisung grabbed the soap out of his hands.

“Your hair is really pretty,” Jisung murmured. “I want to braid it and give you a flower crown. Did you know that one of my aliases is Dandelion?”

“I did not,” Hyunjin said, because Jisung’s aliases were the most conceivable piece of information he just received.

Jisung laughed and used his hands to wash the soap out of Hyunjin’s hair. “You pretend you’re all tough and dramatic but really you’re a big softie.”

“Are you talking about yourself,” Hyunjin replied, because really, he did not come here for an emotional evaluation.

“Aw, no,” Jisung lightly splashed water in Hyunjin’s face, “I never pretend to be all tough and dramatic, I am all tough and dramatic.”

Hyunjin wrinkled his face in disgust. “You’re annoying.”

Hyunjin noticed how Jisung’s musician’s fingers lightly lingered on the scars on his shoulders and back when he washed the soap away. He let Jisung hold his hands and massage a pleasant smelling oil into his skin after he dried and got dressed in a long nightshirt the inn had kindly provided for them. He sat still as Jisung used a towel to gently dry Hyunjin’s hair, and in the absence of a comb used his fingers to disentangle the worst of the knots.

Jisung, for once, blessed Hyunjin with silence. Hyunjin still noticed Jisung. Even when he wasn’t talking a steady stream of nonsense, his presence was still… loud. Strong. The many buttons on Jisung’s jacket were undone with skilled fingers, and Hyunjin pinched himself when he finally remembered to look away. He walked through the room, closing the curtain, locking the door. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and looked everywhere except at Jisung, who pulled the nightshirt over his bare skin.

“You don’t mind sharing the bed, do you?” Jisung asked at last, sitting down next to Hyunjin.

“If I did,” Hyunjin replied, raising an eyebrow, “I’d have removed you from this room already.”

Jisung’s annoying mouth formed a big, heart shaped smile.

Hyunjin wanted to punch him. With his mouth. On Jisung’s mouth. He shuddered internally. Oh no. This wasn’t happening. He was definitely not going to kiss the annoying bard on his annoying mouth. Nope. Not happening.

“Thank you for saving my life,” Jisung said, serious. “Not just from the bandits, but you also kinda saved me back at the other village. You also punched me, but I know that was an accident.”

“I will punch you again,” Hyunjin grumbled, getting under the covers and scooting to one side, “it just won’t be an accident.”

Jisung laughed. “You’re really funny, you know that? I think most people don’t even notice, which is a shame.”

“You’re not funny,” Hyunjin yawned.

“Is that a challenge? Keep thinking that, then. I’ll make you smile.”

Hyunjin didn’t dignify that with an answer. He closed his eyes.

“Sleep well, Hyunjinnie,” Jisung murmured, burying himself in the blanket just a hand width away.

“Night,” Hyunjin returned after a pause.

It didn’t take long for Jisung’s breath to even out and his heartbeat to slow. Hyunjin listened to the muffled and fading noises of the inn for another while before he allowed himself to drift off. Even witchers needed sleep.

When he came back to consciousness, the first thing he noticed was the early morning light streaming in from behind the curtain. He still had his eyes closed and felt no need to move for the moment. Jisung’s heartbeat sounded steady, his breaths warm against Hyunjin’s neck. Hyunjin was warm and comfortable in a way he hadn’t been in a long time, the sheet comfortable around him.

Arms tightened around him, and a voice in the back of Hyunjin’s mind started screaming like the house was on fire. Except Hyunjin really didn’t mind burning houses, he was a witcher, why was his brain screaming? He firmly told himself to shut up and enjoy the lingering sleep. Awake time would be later.

“Hrngg warm,” Jisung murmured, and threw a leg over Hyunjin’s hips.

That woke Hyunjin.

Wide eyed, he stared down, only to see Jisung half on top of him. He realised that it wasn’t the blanket that was so comfortably warm and soft, but Jisung, because Jisung was draped all over him.

Carefully, Hyunjin tried to extract himself, but Jisung only tightened his hold on him.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin whispered.

What did one do when one woke up with a human octopus attached? Hyunjin didn’t know, so he tried to breathe normally and not disturb Jisung further. The bruises on his face were thankfully already fading into lighter shades of purple, but Jisung must have been exhausted. One of Hyunjin’s arms was free, and he’d left a bruise balm on the small table beside the bed, in case he hadn’t healed fully in the morning.

Carefully, Hyunjin reached over, scooped a bit up with his finger, and very carefully started to cover the bruises on Jisung’s cheekbone and temple. Jisung didn’t wake.

After a while, Hyunjin closed his eyes and fell back asleep. When he woke up again, it must have been late morning – golden light illuminated the room. Jisung was staring up at him, wide eyed.

“You drool in your sleep,” Hyunjin told him and gently pushed Jisung off him.

Jisung blushed furiously and wiped at his mouth with his sleeve, eyes not leaving Hyunjin.

Hyunjin stretched and stood. He opened the curtain, squinting against the bright daylight. When he turned to Jisung, he found Jisung rubbing at his eyes, looking lost in the center of the bed, blanket pooling around him. His hair stood around his head and looked – despite all logic – fluffy.

“I – uh, did I sleep on you?” Jisung averted his eyes.

Hyunjin hummed, turning to his clothes. His armour was dry, luckily, but he’d hate to wear the same undershirt and pants again. He’d have to find a river where he could wash his clothes soon.

“I’ll go find the toilet,” Jisung mumbled and left for the door. He almost stumbled in the doorway. “Oh, clothes! The nice lady must have left them for us.” In front of their door, indeed, was a neatly folded pile of clothes. Simple linen undershirts and pants, nothing fancy but of good quality.

When they had fully dressed and Hyunjin had wrenched his hair into a bun, they made their way downstairs just to find the barkeeper grinning widely at them, reminding Hyunjin that this village thought him a hero.

Thankfully, Jisung did all the talking, and Hyunjin could eat as much breakfast as he liked. Maybe he should keep Jisung around.

A handful of villagers came together to bid them goodbye, and the woman from the inn for some reason apologised for being unable to pay him, but instead offered a horse. A cute, mischievous black mare that had been her niece’s favourite, and as such had never learned how to be a proper farm horse. Jisung thanked the villagers profusely and loudly, and sang another rendition of ‘the handsome witcher saved my life’ as they left.

Out of sight and out of earshot of the last farm belonging to the village, Jisung’s voice went high and panicky.

“Hyunjin! I don’t know how to ride a horse!”

Hyunjin just looked Jisung up and down slowly, making his point. Jisung was, after all, sitting on his horse. Sure, he was also hugging his lute to his chest and also gripping the saddle with white-knuckled fists.

“Ha! I did it!” Jisung whooped then, and pointed a finger in Hyunjin’s face. “You smiled!”

Hyunjin wiped the smile off his face, furrowed his brows and glared. “No.”

“You did! I clearly saw – Hyunjinnie you’re so cute when you – ah!” Jisung blanched and cowered over his horse, who had just made a bigger step than usual to nose Kkami in the face.

Hyunjin laughed. He couldn’t help himself. Jisung was confident, or good at bullshitting confidence, and pretty, and annoying, and brave. And he was afraid of riding on a horse.

He leaned back just a bit, letting Kkami know to stop just by shifting his weight. Jisung’s horse also stopped, probably because it had decided Kkami was the best living being on the planet. What a smart horse. Hyunjin jumped off and patted the black horse on the nose, smiling at her.

Kkami snorted loudly.

Hyunjin grabbed the reins of Jisung’s horse and started walking. “Just relax, Sungie,” he said without looking over his shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

“What about Kkami?” Jisung sounded very relieved and adorably worried about Kkami.

Hyunjin hummed. “She’s the best. The smartest. She’ll walk with us on her own. You’re the one that needs to learn how to communicate with your horse. What’s her name?”

“Uh,” Jisung paused. “I forgot? Or they didn’t say.”

“Well, then you should start by naming her,” Hyunjin replied, and then started to talk about horses. What they liked to eat, how to care for them, what they did when they felt good and what they did when they felt scared, and what to do to calm a scared horse down. He talked about saddle care and the different kinds of signals most horses learnt from humans, and then he talked about Kkami.

Jisung listened.

And Hyunjin, the complete and utter fool that he was, talked himself hoarse (ha, get it, horse?) and taught Jisung how to not fall off his newly acquired companion.

In the afternoon, they rested by a stream, Jisung complaining about sore legs the entire time and whining when he tried to sit climb back up on the horse. Hyunjin laughed at him, which made Jisung smile brighter than the sun in the sky, and they decided they’d just walk next to their horses to relieve the stress put on Jisung’s legs. After a while, Jisung started singing again. Maybe it was chronic. Still, Hyunjin found himself enjoying the company, and if his ears didn’t betray him, Jisung’s lyrics were better now, too.

As the sun set behind some mountains in the distance, the annoying bard’s voice cracked from dehydration every few minutes. Jisung settled for humming melodies. Hyunjin caught a small animal for them to eat and build a fire on a clearing off the road. Jisung found an apple tree. As night fell, they huddled close together under Hyunjin’s thin blanket.

“I’m seriously unironically glad to have met you,” Jisung’s loud voice startled Hyunjin, who’d gotten used to the quiet and the fire’s crackling. “I forgive you for punching me in the face, too.”

Hyunjin took it all back. The annoying bard was annoying and Hyunjin did not enjoy his company at all. He sighed, pouring all his long suffering pain into the release of air.

“But only because you’re pretty,” Jisung continued his monologue.

That was it. Hyunjin couldn’t listen to another word. He leaned in, punching Jisung in the face. On the mouth. With his mouth.

Jisung made a strangled noise and returned the kiss with a small smirk in the corner of his lips.

#stray kids #han jisung/hwang hyunjin #hyunsung #uhhh not that people will be able to easily find this because i put links into the post and tumblr hates those #ummm #skz fanfic #witcher au #long post #my ao3 is tinystreetlamp! come say hi #uhhh now idk what to tag #like. lmao #there was only one bed #enemies to lovers #well not really #it's not really enemies to lovers they just don't know how to show attraction without being ... like... the way they are #as my tags on ao3 say: tender yearning and crack #... it is kinda cracky #fluff #because I am incapable of writing anything without fluff #i write what makes me happy! or i try to lmao #like there is sad backstory that you can guess at if you know anything about the witcher #i just don't talk about it because this is about falling in love with the most annoying person you can find on this rock #shoutout to Kkami! she cute #i love u all and pls take care of yourselves!!! even if u think you don't need it #do something for you mental health today #and tomorrow #and like. every day. because you need it. there i said it #live laugh love lee felix

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shippindales · 4 years

Text

we ain’t ever getting older

HAPPY STACKSON WEEK 2020 Y’ALL I WAITED UNTIL MIDNIGHT.

This is a gift fic for @jacksonstilinskis that was born out of a post from forever ago where she said Closer was definitely a Stackson song and I said oh I’d definitely write that and then LITERALLY FOUR YEARS PASSED and here we are finally making good on that in time for @stacksonweek !

Also I realize my blog is not very friendly on the eyes (I need a revamp) so try the read more but if not I included a link as well.

Enjoy!

AO3

It was the kind of atmosphere that Stiles liked, when he needed to unwind for a bit. It wasn’t a sleazy hole in the wall type of place, nor was it too ritzy or stuffy for his tastes. Ease in the air, good ambiance with the dim lighting and low music, bartenders who got down to business and knew when you didn’t need a conversation, and a decent crowd. Not too bad, all things considered, for a hotel bar.

He nursed his gin and tonic as he pulled lightly at his tie, loosening it enough until it dangled from his neck freely while he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. Wearing a suit would never grow on him, regardless of how his partner insisted that it gave them stature and authority. Miller could blow it out his ass, being federal agents gave them all the stature and authority they needed. But damn, he’d kill for jeans and a t-shirt every once in awhile. He’d have to beg for an undercover op next.

It was his fourth night at the hotel in Denver, and the stakeout was getting stale. Miller had insisted he take a night off, even called in a reserve agent just to take his spot so that he could blow off some steam. The night was young, and Stiles figured he had a multitude of options ahead of him for where his evening could go.

That was, until raucous laughter started up from the table across the other end of the sparsely populated bar, and Stiles rolled his eyes at the group of well-dressed men that sat around it, their chatter rolling over him until he looked a little more carefully, and caught a very familiar eye.

He nearly spat out his drink, and the glass clattered to the bar noisily in front of him, drawing the attention of the concerned bartender and a few patrons nearby. He waved them off, dabbing at the spill that had splashed onto the front of his shirt with a bar napkin, before he looked back over, and couldn’t make eye contact anymore. He flushed scarlet, embarrassed at the extra attention, and stared at the wall before tipping the glass to his lips and downing his drink in a few solid, full gulps. He signaled for another in answer to the bartender’s unspoken inquiry as she raised an eyebrow and motioned to his glass.

An hour went by in seemingly seconds as Stiles’ thoughts raced. It was obvious he didn’t want to reconnect, or he would’ve said something. Or maybe it was just the crowd he was with, and he didn’t want to draw attention to anything. What if he’d already left? Stiles couldn’t see the group of men clearly from where he was sitting, and a few of them had been in and out, though he was pretty sure he knew which one was him... he frowned. He’d lost sight of him. A dull ache started to form in his stomach that was unrelated to the buzz from his third drink.

“You know, all the ways I pictured we might run into each other, and this wasn’t one of them,” the smooth voice purred in his ear, and Stiles sat bolt upright, spinning around to face him. Jackson fucking Whittemore, in all his three-piece suited glory, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

Stiles froze for a moment, his mouth hanging open, before Jackson’s words sunk in. He looked across the restaurant and noticed that the remainder of Jackson’s table of companions was filtering out the door, and he turned back with a sly smirk on his face. “Too shy to introduce me to your fancy buddies over there? What are you guys anyway, stock brokers?” He raised an eyebrow, looking Jackson up and down.

Jackson didn’t miss the roving eyes, though his shirt was still buttoned up tight and his tie in place, unlike Stiles. He looked the other man up and down himself, before taking a swig of his beer. “We should maybe reintroduce ourselves, considering it’s been awhile. Jackson Whittemore, Esquire.” He held out a hand to shake, a proud smile on his face that put butterflies in Stiles’ stomach.

He gripped it tightly and shook, growing goosebumps on his arm in the process, before pulling out his badge and flipping it open. “Agent Stilinski. FBI.” Jackson’s eyes widened in surprise, and Stiles smirked. “Yeah, I know, I was the hot gossip at our five-year reunion. Which you missed, by the way.” He pointed accusingly at Jackson, his finger poking him in the chest. Jackson didn’t shy away from the contact, leaning over the bar next to Stiles and resting his drink on a coaster.

“Yeah, I missed it. Law school beat the shit out of me. I don’t know why I ever decided to follow in my dad’s footsteps.” He shrugged. “But it’s been a pretty good life so far. And uh, the academy’s done good things for you.” He raised an eyebrow, admiring the way Stiles’ form had filled out since high school. And Stiles knew, he’d definitely grown into the gangly limbs and awkward proportions since he was a teenager.

Not that it hadn’t been a struggle. He’d spent his first few weeks at the academy feeling like he was going to die, but the physical training had gradually honed him into a toned, lean version of himself that he never thought he’d see in his younger years. Regardless, Jackson’s obvious attention to it had him flushing slightly.

The unspoken tension filled the air before Stiles took a deep sip of his drink, setting it down carefully. “You never kept in touch,” he pointed out. It was casual, but his tone implied something deeper. Jackson stared at him, noticed the way Stiles’ eyes wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“Didn’t deserve to,” he retorted, which drew a look of surprise from Stiles. “What? I was an absolute ass in high school, dude. And probably even more of an ass in undergrad.” He shuddered. “I’ve grown up a lot. Obviously you have too. But I wanted to be... different, when I eventually got around to reconnecting with everyone, especially you.”

Especially you. And weren’t those pretty words to come from an equally pretty mouth. “Yeah, you were an ass in high school,” Stiles acknowledged, though the response from Jackson was a look of more guilt than he’d been intending to inflict. “But you made up for it.”

The implication turned back time to groping hands, shuttered up in Jackson’s bathroom during a party, mouths and limbs and hardness, heat and release— The blush was equal in both their cheeks. It wasn’t a single occurrence, they had quite the history over the last few years of high school.

“I remember,” Jackson muttered, the barest hint of a smile playing on the edges of his lips. “I didn’t know what I was doing then, though. And I was a dick to you about it. You know, when things got more... involved.”

When feelings got involved. Right.

Stiles shrugged it off. Long since passed, and long since forgotten. His attention instead turned to the earlier part of what Jackson had said. “So you know what you’re doing now?” he inquired, and his amber eyes were peering up at Jackson through those thick lashes that always set him off when they were younger, and god damn were those memories coursing through their veins and making them both feel alive, thrumming to the accelerating tattoo that their pulses set.

Jackson gripped Stiles’ tie, pulling him forward forcefully to capture his lips, ignoring the wandering eyes from the bartender and other patrons, who probably thought they were moving a little fast for a first time meet. He felt Stiles gasp quietly underneath him, the heat pooling in his gut as Stiles’ tongue flicked out gently to trace his bottom lip. They separated, breathing heavily, before Jackson pulled him by his tie a little further, to lean over in Stiles’ ear once more. “Want to find out?”

Stiles dug into his wallet, slapped a fifty on the counter and downed the rest of his drink. “Let’s get out of here,” he murmured, and Jackson followed him out the door before pressing him against the brick wall, humming into his mouth as their tongues danced. “Easy, tiger,” Stiles chided gently, grinning as Jackson nipped down the side of his jaw to his neck.

“Got a lot to make up for,” Jackson muttered against his skin, sucking a deep bruise into Stiles’ collarbone as he shoved the offending fabric of his dress shirt aside. His hand slipped into his pocket and came back with his car keys, clicking the remote. A black Range Rover beeped from the isolated corner of the parking lot, and Stiles looked before rolling his eyes.

“The Rover doesn’t surprise me, Mr. Porsche,” he teased, laughing as he danced away from Jackson’s needy hands and lips, making for the rear passenger side door. “Esquire over here flashing what he can afford.” There was no venom in his words, only joking praise.

“Why are you getting in the back?” Jackson asked, confusion knitting his brows.

“Because so are you,” Stiles retorted, and the mischievous grin spread across his face as he opened the door and hopped in. The grin that brought the memories surging back as Jackson hopped in the backseat from the other side, their mouths clashing urgently as Stiles tugged on Jackson’s jacket, discarding it into the front seat with little regard.

It wasn’t long until their shirts were open, and Jackson was pressing their chests flush together, relishing in the keen that came out of Stiles at the feel of skin on skin. He nipped down Stiles’ neck to drag his tongue along his clavicle, biting down sharply.

Stiles yelped, but felt himself stiffen completely, because yes, this was what he missed. The way Jackson never treated him like he was breakable, trusted him to handle it, and it was something he’d been missing for a long time. He didn’t get around much with his busy life and his federal job, and he felt like a tightly coiled spring finally given the freedom to release.

The way Jackson grabbed his hips bruisingly, like Stiles’d fall through to the center of the earth if he loosened his grip, lit something in him, and he pushed Jackson’s shirt off his shoulder, admiring the tribal tattoo design he found there. He sank his teeth into it, satisfied with the way Jackson threw his head back and moaned at the contact.

“Stiles,” he interrupted, but Stiles paid no mind, kissing his way down Jackson’s hairless chest as he pawed at his hardness through the front of his suit pants. “As much as I’d love to fuck you in my backseat, I think we need a bed.”

Stiles came up for air, after kissing down Jackson’s abdomen. He shrugged his shoulders, nipping at Jackson’s lower lip lightly. “Fine then, Whittemore. Take me home and take me to bed.”

The door slammed behind them minutes later, after Jackson had broken nearly every traffic law in the state. He yanked at Stiles’ shirt impatiently, pulling it off of his arms before their mouths were back in contact, shrugging off his own shirt as their clothing fluttered, forgotten, to the floor. Searing heat and the clash of rushed, hurried teeth filled Stiles’ consciousness, as Jackson’s hands roamed down his sides and slipped underneath his waistband, palming Stiles’ ass impatiently.

“Fucker,” Stiles growled into his mouth as he arched his back into the touch. Jackson reached down and grabbed him around the waist, hauling him up until Stiles’ legs wrapped around his waist instinctively. He threw the other man unceremoniously on the bed after shoving into the bedroom, and Stiles collapsed in a pile of limbs before turning onto his back, sighing gently. “Your mattress is comfy,” he complimented, a stupid grin slapped across his face as he shimmied out of his pants.

“My law school roommate in Boulder ditched the last month of rent. I changed the locks and stole his furniture.” Jackson’s belt whipped off lightning quick as he shoved his own pants and underwear to the floor, his cock springing free of its cloth prison. He hissed as it met the cool air, and Stiles licked his lips as they collapsed back together, hands and mouths fumbling deliciously.

After a few moments, Stiles scrambled down the bed to swallow him to the hilt in one fluid motion. Jackson hissed as Stiles’ tongue flicked out around the base of his shaft as he took him into the back of his throat. “Jesus fuck, your mouth, Stilinski. Missed it so much.”

Stiles pulled up and off of Jackson’s shaft with a wet pop, before smacking it lightly against his cheek. “Guess you’ll just have to make up for lost time then.” He ran his tongue from base to tip, swirling it around the head before delving back down, and Jackson pulled his own hair to keep from yelling to loudly at how fucking incredible it felt.

Stiles hummed around his shaft, bobbing to the base and back to the tip to swirl his tongue in the way he knew drove Jackson nuts. The humming sent deep vibrations through Jackson’s flesh and he let out a ragged, broken moan.

The taste and feel of him bombarded Stiles with memories of the first time he’d ever sucked Jackson’s dick, denial radiating through the other boy even as he’d twitched in anticipation, letting out a rough breath as Stiles finally took him in his mouth.

“Do you like it?”

“Shut up and keep going.”

Jackson was growing impatient, and he finally pulled himself out of Stiles’ mouth, reaching down to throw the other man further up on the bed, stomach down, receiving a yelp of protest which quickly died on Stiles’ lips as Jackson kissed down his back to his ass, biting sharply into his left cheek. His breath ghosted over Stiles’ hole, and okay, yes, this was a thing that they’d never done together before that Stiles was 120% on board with.

“Are you seriously going to ahhhhh fucking shit Christ Jesus,” Stiles babbled as Jackson’s tongue flicked out and laved at his rim like a man starved, both hands palming Stiles’ ass and spreading his cheeks and yeah, okay, Jackson had picked up some tricks since high school. Yup.

His sensitive hole was twitching under the ministrations of Jackson’s tongue, and Jackson hummed as he pressed his tongue inside the taut ring of muscle, eliciting a sharp sound from Stiles that he wanted more of. A finger joined his tongue, then two as Stiles relaxed under his efforts.

“God, I can’t believe I’ve never opened you up like this before,” Jackson panted. “You’re so warm and open, so good for me.” His praise was radiating through Stiles’ bones as he pressed his hips back.

“I need you,” Stiles groaned. “Need to feel you again. It’s been— god, too long, not enough, just— just do it.”

Jackson nodded, moving to obey and flicking open the bottle of lube he’d nabbed from his bedside table, spreading it over himself quickly before pressing into Stiles, slowly but persistently.

Stiles’ eyes screwed tight as he breathed in and out sharply, the burn of Jackson’s breach stretching him in a way he hadn’t been in a long time. “Fucking holy hell, forgot how thick you were,” he breathed, pressing his face into the pillow desperately as he rolled his hips back to take Jackson further.

Jackson paused, for a brief moment, to give Stiles time to adjust. That action alone sent a shock through Stiles’ body. Jackson had never been about how Stiles felt, their clandestine hookups throughout high school had always been about Jackson getting off, but this— this was different, and Stiles felt it, felt the consideration and respect.

He responded by pressing his hips back into Jackson, hissing as the burn reignited but slowly began to dissipate. “Move,” he commanded, and Jackson obeyed.

And this, this was what Jackson had missed the most. “God, the way you look spread out around my dick,” he groaned, fucking into Stiles with earnest, staring down at the way Stiles’ hole gripped his girth each time he slid out.

“Shit, Jacks,” Stiles grunted, slamming his hips backwards to meet Jackson’s thrusts, all earlier thoughts of tenderness abandoned. “God, I forgot how good you felt in me. It’s been so long. Always so fucking hard and rough with me. Fuck.”

Jackson’s hand cracked down onto Stiles’ ass, drawing a yelp and leaving an angry red handprint. He spanked him again, twice more, three more times, causing Stiles to let out a long, sharp series of moans. “Fucking take it,” Jackson bit out, pummeling into him rapidly.

Stiles’ talk devolved into senseless syllables and nonsensical babbling as he felt the pleasure coiling in his gut. “Mmmm, f-f-fuuuuck, I’m gonna— I’m close, I—”

Jackson halted, reaching down with both arms and flipping Stiles over onto his back in one smooth motion, bending his head to bite roughly on Stiles’ bottom lip as he pushed back in, holding him around his waist with his legs in the air as he jackhammered in at a punishing pace. “Want to see it,” he panted against Stiles’ lips. “Want to see you let go, see how taken apart you are when you come.”

Stiles came with a shout, spurting copiously all over his chest, his eyes screwed shut and fists tangled in the sheets. Jackson followed him over the brink, moaning loudly as he shoved to the hilt and spilled himself inside Stiles.

Collapsing on the bed next to him, they both laid for a few moments, Stiles’ head lolling over onto Jackson’s shoulder. Their breathing was still heavy, though their pulses began to slow after having finally reached their peaks.

“So,” Jackson began, running his finger through the mess on Stiles’ abdomen and popping it into his mouth before pulling it out with a pop. Stiles’ eyes followed him, blown wide and dark. “Made up for lost time?”

Stiles nodded, grinning wildly as he ran his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. “It’s a start.”

A start. Jackson nodded, breaking eye contact as a smile spread across his face.

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

He traced his fingertips around Jackson’s abdominal muscles absentmindedly, leaning his head into the crook of the other man’s neck. Jackson’s eyes were lightly closed, satisfied after their round the next morning. They were resting quietly, the morning light filtering in through the taupe curtains and spilling warm rays of sunshine across their mostly still forms.

“Would things have been different?” Stiles asked quietly, prompting a soft, questioning hum from Jackson, who kept his eyes closed, but rubbed circles into Stiles’ shoulder with his thumb. “If you weren’t a dick in high school, I mean.” The implication behind it left Stiles feeling vulnerable, and he swallowed it down thickly.

“Maybe,” Jackson admitted, turning to press his lips gently into Stiles’ hair. “I can’t change who I was then. I wish it could’ve gone differently, though.” The unspoken differences echoed in the silence, and Stiles pictured what life could’ve been like, in another world.

“What about now?” he asked, voice uncertain. There was no indication that Jackson had wanted this to continue, that it was more than just a rekindling of an old flame, destined to wither and snuff out as it had before.

Jackson was silent for a moment too long before responding, and it twisted Stiles’ stomach up in knots. “What about it?”

“Is it too late?” Stiles asked. He was unable to form the words, unable to ask directly for fear of putting himself too far out there. Something about this just felt like the universe was pointing them in the right direction for once, and he needed to know now if it was never going to happen.

“Do you want it to be?” Jackson asked.

He blinked, the answer clear as day. “No.”

A small smile played at the corner of Jackson’s lips as he looked down at Stiles. “Then it’s not too late.”

The sun’s rays splayed out gently across their skin as Jackson pulled him closer.

“Good.”

#stacksonweek2020 #teen wolf #stackson #stiles stilinski #jackson whittemore #my fic

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jjmaybanksbaby · 4 years

Text

How About A Dare

not my gif! all credits to owner

summary: A late night game of “Truth or Dare” leads the group to the Cameron’s house.

a/n: the bulk of the inspiration for this came from @jjmaybanx Watch Me (which y’all need to go read asap bc her writing is incredible) plus me playing around with how far i think Kie would go to “prove herself” to the pogues. feedback’s always appreciated and request are open too!

tw: mentions of underage drinking and drug use, some violence and swearing

word count: 1,530 words

**flashbacks in italics**

——————————————————————————

It was nearing midnight and the only light filling the room came from the lantern that sat on the floor in the middle of the room.

“Okayyyy,” John B said obnoxiously dragging out the y. He turned to face Pope. “Truth or Dare, dude?”

They’d been playing for the better part of the afternoon but nothing really exciting had happened yet.

“He’s so gonna go with truth.” JJ said from the other side of the room, raising his bottle of beer to take a sip.

“Whatever, JJ.” He turned to John B. “Dare.”

John B’s eyes got big for a second and then declared, “Kiss Kie.”

Kie rolled her eyes, “Wow John B! How creative.”

It seemed like at least once in a game of Truth or Dare, the boys dared each other to kiss her. It was so true they all had a little thing for her.

Kie pointed to her cheek, “Okay, Pope. Put it here.”

Pope crossed the room quickly, left a peak on Kie’s cheek and then tried to hide the pink that was quickly spreading across from the rest of the group.

JJ gave him a slow clap. “Outstanding work, Pope.”

“Kie,” Sarah said from her spot perched on John B’s lap. “You next. Truth or Dare.”

Kie pressed her lips together and thought for a second.

“How about a dare?” she finally answered.

Sarah whispered something in John B’s ear and he shook his head and grinned.

“I dare you to steal Rafe’s stash of weed.”

JJ spit out his beer and erupted in a coughing fit.

“Jeez, calm down JJ. It’s in a little jar on the shelf of his closet. It’s not that hard.”

“You’re not actually gonna do that Kie?” Pope asked.

Kie shrugged her shoulders. “I’ll just go in and grab. It’ll be fine.”

JJ raised his beer in the air, “Fuck it.”

…..

John B pulled the van off to the side of the road in front of the Cameron’s estate.

Kie gave the group a salute then slide open the van door and jumped out.

“Jesus,” JJ muttered before hopping out after here.

“Oh, come on.” Pope moaned.

Kie turned around and lifted her eyebrows, daring Pope to come too. He shook his head ‘no’ but climbed out after them anyway.

“Obviously, it makes sense for only me to go in. If one of the Cameron’s find me, it won’t be too suspicious.”

“What is Rafe’s in there?” Pope asked, his voice laced with blatant worry.

JJ punched him lightly, “Chill, bro. Kie’ll be fine.”

The motion sensor light on the house flicked on.

“Shit,” JJ yelled.

“Stay here,” Kie said. “I’ll be back in like 10 minutes tops.” Then she opened the Cameron’s back door and disappeared inside.

Pope looked over at JJ. “Do we just let her go?” he asked.

“Eh, she’ll be fine.”

It was pitch black inside the house but Kie knew her way around from the time she spent here before Sarah had exiled her from the friend group.

Kie gripped the bottom of the handrail and placed her foot on the first stair.

A memory of a fun night with Sarah flashed through her mind.

The two of them were coming back from a party at Topper’s pad and were way past Wade’s prescribed curfew. They’d both had their fair share of drinks at the party and couldn’t stop giggling.

“Oh, Sarah,” Kie said, dropping her voice to mimics Topper’s. “Just put me out of my misery already and go out with me.”

“Shhhhh,” Sarah hushed Kie. “Besides that’s not even what he said…” her voice trailed off.

“Pretty sure that’s what he meant,” Kie giggled.

“If you wake up Wade, you’re explain what’s happening here to him.”

Sarah stopped half way up the staircase.

“These two stairs creek so you gotta jump over them.”

Sarah stepped her leg out and then pushed herself up, skipping the creaking stairs. She turned around and offered her hand to Kie to pull her up too.

“Come on.”

Kie shook her head as to force the memory from her mind. Things with Sarah were better now but the pain of the whole situation still lingered.

She made her way up the stairs, skipping the creaking ones in the middle and now found herself trying to remember what door lead to Rafe’s room.

She walked slowly to the end of the hall, making as little noise as possible until she arrived at the door that sat across from the one that she knew was Sarah’s.

Kie pushed it open and Rafe’s empty room stood before her.

Yes! she thought.

Kie lightly closed the door behind her and felt her way around the room to the closet. She flicked on the light outside the closet door and then opened the closet door just wide enough for her to slip inside.

A shelf ran around the top of the closet and Kie reached her hand up feeling for the jar that Sarah had described. Her fingers tips made contact but when she tried to grab it, it slide to the back of the shelve.

Shit, Kie thought.

She balanced on her tip toes and stretched her arm to the back until finally her fingers wrapped around the jar.

Let’s go, she thought as she screwed open the jar and removed the ziplock bag inside. She quickly recapped the jar, placed it back on the shelve and left the closet.

She was back down the stairs and half way across the kitchen when suddenly a light flickered on. There in the entry way to the kitchen stood the nightmare himself: Rafe Cameron.

Without thought, Kie shoved the bag into the back pocket of her shorts, praying he didn’t notice.

“Rafe-,” she started.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” he interrupted.

“I was looking for Sarah,” Kie lied.

“She’s probably with that fucking pogue,” Rafe spit back.

Kie nodded her head, thinking she couldn’t get out of here fast enough.

Kie walked past Rafe in attempt to leave but just as she had passed him, he grabbed her wrist.

“Well, you don’t have to go just yet. You’ve been slumming it with all those pogues for a while, aren’t you ready for some kook?”

Kie could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath and from the way he slurred those last words, it was obvious how far gone Rafe was.

Kie jerked her wrist out of his grasp, “No, thanks. I’m good.”

Rafe’s face flashed with anger. Then he started to laugh. Before she knew it, he had his arm snaked around her waist.

“Kiara, come on. Let’s have a little fun. I’ll be super gentle.”

He leaned his head down and pressed a kiss onto her neck. Kie squirmed away, trying to get out his grasp.

“Rafe, let go. Leave me the fuck alone.” She jabbed an elbow into his side which caused him to release her.

“Fuck you, Kiara. Just run back to your fucking-“

JJ throwing opening the back door interrupted Rafe.

“Kie, what’s going on in here?” he asked with urgency before spotting Rafe. “Oh ,you have got to be kidding me.”

Kie ran over to JJ and grab his arm, trying to drag him out of the house but JJ just shook her off.

“Was he hurting you?” he asked Kie.

“No, JJ. It’s fine. Let’s go.”

“Come to save your little pogue princess?” Rafe spit at JJ. “You know, one day Kie, they’re all gonna realize how fucking full of shit you are and drop you just like my sister did.

At this JJ ran over to where Rafe was standing. He cocked his arm back and punched Rafe straight in the nose.

“Don’t every talk about Kie like that again.”

“JJ,” Kie screamed. “We have to go.”

JJ and Kie booked it out of the Cameron’s house.

“Come on, Pope!” Kie called as she and JJ ran down the Cameron’s drive.

“Start the van,” JJ shouted to John B once they were in earshot.

JJ, Kie and Pope jumped into the back of the van screaming at John B to get out of there. As they took off, JJ saw Rafe stagger out of the house with steam practically coming out his ears.

JJ examined his hand for a moment and then wiped the blood off on the inside of his shirt.

“Jesus, JJ,” Kie finally said. “It was fine. You didn’t have to go punching Rafe.”

At this Sarah turned around from the front seat, “You punched my brother?”

JJ glanced at Kie and Pope not sure how to answer that.

“…Yes?” he answered.

She shrugged. “He probably deserved it.”

Kie sighed then remembering she still had the bag in her pocket, took it out and threw it at JJ.

JJ caught the bag midair. “What is...” he began, then registering the contents of the bag yelled, “No way Kie! You fucking did it! I’m so proud.”

John B looked back at the commotion, causing the van to swerve just a little.

“Oh my god. You actually got it?” Sarah asked.

“Damn right I did. Told y’all I could.”

JJ made small bowing motions, “All hail our pogue princess.”

“Eat shit JJ.” Kie responded, but a smile was plastered across her face, still riding the adrenaline high from completing the dare.

#outer banks #obx netflix #kie #jj #pope #john b #sarah cameron #rafe cameron #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine

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psycho-slytherin · 4 years

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Bonus chapter: Truth or Dare

Thanks to @minprismpowermakeup for the idea~ <3

Context: This takes place around Strangers ch. 33, after y/n and Yoongi have begun filming Moon Over the Sea. This content is not relevant to the main Strangers plot.

WC: 1.8k love it when a bonus chapter is longer than some actual content

|mlist|

A/N: Namjoon really wrecked me during the awards stages ok I’m not projecting I’m just projecting

“Okay, y/n, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you yawn, making yourself comfortable. You’re sleepy, it’s past two in the morning, and you don’t wanna get up.

“Anyone got a good one for the token ARMY?” Hoseok asks, looking around at the other members sprawled on various pieces of furniture and carpet. You stick your tongue out at Hoseok on hearing your title.

“Do you have a crush on anyone?” Seokjin asks from below you, tipping a mostly-empty beer bottle at you.

“I already answered that, and no.” You swat the eldest member, who’s laying on the couch with his head in your lap. “Bitch, I just ended a relationship and webcomics continue to convince me that men are trash. Besides, I barely get to sleep– when am I gonna have time to catch feelings?”

“Blehhh, boring.”

“I can drink if y’all can’t think of anything,” you say, already reaching for the bottle to refill your wine glass. Hey, you were feeling classy tonight.

“No, wait, wait, I have one!” Jungkook leans forward eagerly. “Have you ever written... fanfiction?”

Ah, shit.

You press your lips together to keep a straight face. Lately it seems you’ve been using more of your acting skills when you spend time with the boys than you do for school and work combined. “Have I ever, at any point, written fanfiction for any fandom? Yes.”

“Was it…” Jungkook leans even closer, his long hair almost hitting you in the face. “BTS fanfiction?”

You smile, choosing your words carefully. “Unfortunately, Kookie dearest, I already answered my truth.”

“She’s avoiding the question!” Jungkook hollers, far too loudly for the time of night. “You guys know what that means~”

It’s as though all signs of sleepiness have vanished– every member sits up, and with Jin’s weight off, you realize your legs have fallen asleep.

“C’mon, guys…” you’re met with seven pairs of eager eyes, focusing on your favorite. “Et tu, Yoongs?”

A corner of Yoongi’s mouth turns upward in that oh-so-familiar smirk. “What can I say– I’ve got a cat’s curiosity.”

“Don’t let Holly hear that,” you reply, tossing a pillow at him. He snatches it out of the air without moving from his curled-up position in his favorite armchair. You’re reminded again of how he’s so adorable when he looks that small.

“So?” Jimin asks eagerly. “Have you ever written fanfiction about us?”

You could lie. God knows it would be easy. But the far more fun option wouldn’t be lying… it would simply be not telling the truth.

“I would love to answer that, but unfortunately it’s not my turn anymore,” you reply airily, delighting in the boys’ groans. “So, Joon, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Namjoon replies, his eyes confident. He really could bring anyone to their knees with just a glance. As your first bias, Namjoon has always had a special effect on you.

“I dare you to let Kookie and Tae tickle you.”

“Wait, what?”

You check your watch. “For, say, one minute.”

Namjoon backs away nervously from the predatory advance of the maknaes, all signs of bravado gone. “C’mon… ah, y/n, this is too cruel…”

“Who was it that dared me to drink a shot of soy sauce?” You ask smugly. “And who dared me to catcall Jin?” Your plan is to distract the boys, and luckily you have plenty of material to work with. Namjoon especially always seems perfectly sadistic when assigning dares.

“As if you weren’t thinking that stuff anyways,” Seokjin says dismissively.

You roll your eyes, focusing on the leader’s imminent torture. “One minute, starting… now!”

At your signal, Taehyung and Jungkook leap like feral dogs upon Namjoon, who falls to the floor with a thump, laughing uncontrollably: “Ah! Guys! S-sto-ah!”

You sit back in satisfaction as the clock winds down, figuring you’ve suitably distracted your friends from their original prey.

Your hopes are dashed soon enough. Namjoon gets back up, fire in his eyes. “Y/n.”

Dammit. “Yes, Namjoon?”

“Truth or dare?”

Well, what does he think? “Dare.” Obviously. You’d die before letting them read the stories that you, in your lust-addled fangirl’s mind, wrote so long ago.

“I dare you to give Yoongi hyung a hickey.”

Wait, what? “Yo, Joon, that’s not cool–” Yoongi is quick to complain, but Namjoon silences him with a raised hand. Meanwhile you’re frozen to your seat, feeling as though all your blood has simultaneously rushed into your face and fled your body entirely. Sure, you guys have toed the line of what’s proper during these late-night games, and as the only woman you’ve tended to get the brunt of it, but to give Yoongi a hickey? To press your lips, your tongue, your teeth to his smooth skin?

Now that you think about it, you’re pretty sure you’ve written that into a fanfic at some point anyways.

“Dude. No.” You say, at last finding your voice. “C’mon, that’s ridiculous.” You spare a glance at Yoongi, who you can tell is trying to keep a straight face. Still his clenched jaw and rapid blinking give away his anxiety, and– no. You couldn’t do something like that to Yoongi, who so clearly would hate it.

Namjoon raises a brow, his expression void of mercy. “You could always choose truth.”

You laugh nervously. You didn’t anticipate this, and now… “Can I take a drink instead?”

The leader shakes his head. When he speaks, it’s as though his voice is made of steel. When did he become so intense? “Nope. Truth or dare. Pick one.”

You inhale deeply. Dammit, Yoongs, you owe me one. “Truth.”

Immediately all tension melts from Namjoon’s gaze, and he breaks into the dorky grin you’re so familiar with. “Yes! Quick, guys, before she changes her mind!”

Your eyes widen. “No, wait–”

Hoseok pounces. “Have you ever written BTS fanfiction, and if so, what was it about?”

Fucking hell. You’ll get Joon back for this.

“Uh…” Should you lie? Every instinct is telling you to steer the boys as far from the truth as possible. Still, you’re buzzed, and it’s late, and–

“Yes. I have.”

Jungkook bursts out laughing, his nose scrunched as he slaps the couch. “I knew it!” The others celebrate in similar fashions:

“Ten bucks says it’s a ship fic!”

“Reader insert, it has to be.”

“Have you guys even heard Emo Y/n? I bet it’s super sad.”

You snatch Jungkook’s drink out of his hand and take a swig. You’re starting to realize you’re gonna need something stronger than wine if you want to survive the night. “How do you guys even know those terms? Who’s been corrupting you with Tumblish?”

“Twitter,” Taehyung replies, shuffling over and draping himself over the back of the couch, his head resting on your shoulder. “ARMYs kept tagging us, they thought we never saw.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Yoongi staring at the ground, smiling softly, his fingers laced together. Huh.

In the meantime, the remaining members have continued with their buzzword arguments. You begin petting Tae’s soft hair absentmindedly while waiting for the others to calm down and hopefully forget this entire conversation by morning.

“It’s probably crack.”

“No, fluff!”

“Angst, I told you!”

Jimin suddenly pipes up, his voice sleepy and soft. “What if it’s… smut?”

A hush falls over the room, and your breath catches in your throat. You don’t remember writing anything explicit, most romance scenes were mainly innocent, full of vague implications of other goings-on…

Wait. Your eyes widen. You did write that one scene, on a dare from Lisa… fuck. You rack your brain– what was it? You wrote it almost four years ago, you can hardly remember. It was about Namjoon, right? He was your bias around that time.

“Y/n, would you ever write smut?”

“Ha, maybe if someone paid me!”

“Ooh! Is that a promise?”

It was all a joke, but you did end up posting it on your Tumblr at some point or another, classifying it as dumb and crackheaded. Regardless, that means it’s online. And that means…

They could find it.

“Y/n-ie?” Taehyung waves a hand in front of your eyes and you jump, nearly colliding with him. “You zoned out for a bit~”

“S-Sorry.” You notice the boys are all still looking at you. “What?”

“Your truth. What was your fanfiction about?”

You sieze on the vague question. “Well, funny you should ask, I think I wrote one about Hobi here going to space, which was–”

“The hell? Did I die?” Hoseok whines. “Y/n, you traitor–”

“Wait, so you’ve written more than one?” Yoongi interrupts.

“I mean…” that’s safe to say, right? “Yes.”

Namjoon taps your shoulder. “Have you ever written smut?”

Jeez, what was with his confidence tonight? “I–”

“If you tell us the truth, we’ll make Joon hyung rap Expensive Girl,” Hoseok sings, swinging a shoe in his hand. Wait, is that your-

“Huh? Hold up, hold up, that wasn’t part of the deal!” Namjoon’s facade quickly fades in liu of genuine terror.

Yoongi slowly rises for the first time that night, his grin nothing short of malicious. “You wanna play sadistic games? If Y/n completes her truth, you have to do that dare.”

“Y/n, I changed my mind, don’t tell us,” Namjoon begs, turning to you.

Oh. Oh, the power coursing through your veins. Either way, you win. You could keep your dark secret, or torture Namjoon just a little bit more. What a glorious choice to have.

“You know what?” You drain your wine glass, the alcohol lending you courage. Namjoon wanted to make you give Yoongi a hickey, he deserves this. And you were younger, a simple fangirl– besides, it’s not like they’re going to ask you to read it. “Yes. I did write a smut fic once. And you know what, Joon? It was about you.”

You giggle and sit back as the members do the “OHHHHH!” thing that boys never seem to grow out of.

Instead of going red like you expected he would, a shit-eating grin spreads across Namjoon’s face. He seems more… well, pleased than anything.

“What was it about?” he asks.

“Joon,” Yoongi warns, his voice a note deeper than usual. You shoot Yoongi a grateful smile– how does he know you so well? As for the fic, you genuinely don’t remember, but knowing it was smut, and knowing it was about Namjoon…

“I dunno, dude, probably some daddy kink shit.”

Namjoon cocks his head. “Daddy… kink?”

You jaw drops, and in your bordering-on-drunk state, you can’t help but blurt out: “You don’t know what a daddy kink is? I thought you had one!”

The leader scratches his head. “What?”

You can’t help but laugh, the drinks finally hitting you hard. “Oh my god. C’mon, gather round, my students.” You reach out, clasping Jimin’s and Jin’s shoulders. “let’s teach you guys about fanfiction.”

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szept-sosna · 5 years

Text

hatred: clint barton x female reader

still no requests guys, c’mon! i want to write for y’all!

the tower was in complete and total chaos. usually it was quite calm, well as calm as can be for a group of superheroes with differing special abilities living in one space. today however, almost no one was doing what they usually did. steve wasn’t training with natasha and eventually getting his butt kicked. bucky and sam weren’t fighting. tony and bruce were not in the lab being science bros. thor was not trying to learn new things about earth and eating a crap ton of sugar. loki wasn’t being snarky or trying to trick anyone. wanda and vision were doing who knows what, and clint was actually doing what he usually did, sit in the avengers tower vent system, brooding and keeping a lookout for something interesting. there was nothing particularly interesting as today, everyone was freaking out, cleaning, clearing clutter, going through items they had no use for.

as one says, there’s a method to the madness, and in this instance there was a reason that all of the avengers were doing a sweep of the tower. tony had made the announcement last night that there would be a new recruit joining them, (y/n), a brilliant marksman and sharpshooter who had the ability to control metals and metal alloys. needless to say, clint was not pleased, and quite frankly, a little jealous. he was the one who was the sniper, the person who would always hit the target. he would not be upstaged by some little girl who he had never heard of before, and clint had heard of a lot of people. he didn’t understand why all of the tower had been thrown into cleaning mode. sure, the tower could use some cleaning anyway, they were superheroes, and quite possibly a little lazy when not on missions. but not wanting to give this girl the notion that he wanted to impress her, he refused to clean his room, and instead hid in the vents.

“clint!” natasha’s voice rang throughout the tower. “clint barton get your ass to the common area!” not one to get on natasha’s bad side, clint scurried through the vents and dropped gracefully from the ceiling.

“nice landing bird brain,” bucky said, looking at clint with a slight smile.

“thanks robo cop,” clint smirked back, joining the others in the small cluster that was forming by the door. he was not excited to meet this girl and to be honest, you could tell, he was wearing his signature scowl, arms crossed over his chest.

“sir, miss (y/n) has arrived,” JARVIS told tony. “doors are opening.”

“ah! (y/n), welcome to the tower sweetheart,” tony said, stepping forward, smiling at the girl who had just walked in.

clint rolled his eyes at tony’s fake politeness, but he still hadn’t gotten a good look at the girl, because he made the decision to stand behind thor, who was like 8ft tall and he couldn’t really see the new recruit. all he saw was a flash of (h/c) hair, and he heard a faint thump and a yelp from tony. clint, always excited to see tony get decked, peered out from behind thor to see tony pinned to the floor, arm pinned at an awkward angle behind his back.

“call me sweetheart again and those will be your last words stark,” clint heard (y/n) threaten. she got up, letting tony regain his balance, and looked at the other avengers, seeming to analyze each one of them.

it was then that clint really got a good look at this girl, and mother of god she was the most gorgeous creature he had ever seen. her (e/c) eyes shone like gemstones in the light and she seemed to stand with an air of confidence and intimidation, that for some reason, clint found VERY attractive. her seemingly soft looking lips were barely pushed up into a small smile, and clint hated every single thought he had about kissing her, running his fingers through her hair, and staring at her gorgeous eyes in that moment.

“dude, you’re drooling. see something you like bird brain?” sam nudged clint with his elbow, smirking at the now flustered archer.

“no,” Clint huffed, turning away from falcon. “just assessing the competition, that’s all.”

“yeah, because staring at her, with your mouth open and literal hearts for eyes, is how you scope out competition,” sam replied, smirking at clint’s pathetic excuse. clint ignored the man, opting to face forward, watching (y/n) introduce herself.

“hello, i’m (y/n) (l/n), though you probably already knew that. i’m a sharpshooter who can control metal objects, and press have been calling me “zinc.” anything else you guys need to know?” she asked, looking around at everyone once more.

she locked eyes with natasha and wanda who both smiled at her, probably impressed that she had managed to take down tony within her first few minutes at the tower. clint however, was not impressed, or at least that was what he told himself.

“uh yeah,” steve spoke up, looking at tony who was rubbing his arm. “where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“oh, i was a SHIELD agent for a time and my mom worked for SHIELD as well. kinda grew up learning how to hold my own in a fist fight. i got teased a bunch growing up,” (y/n) explained, smiling at captain america, who nodded, seemingly pleased with her answer. clint grumbled at her obvious attempt to suck up to the guy, but a tiny part of him wished that she would smile at him that way too.

“follow up question,” falcon said from beside clint, giving him a knowing look before asking, “how do you like your coffee?” clint nearly tackled the man before he heard (y/n)’s answer.

“the only proper way to drink it is black. black coffee, nothing in it, straight up black,” was what she said and this was when clint knew, he was a goner.

————————————

“i don’t understand why he hates me! i’ve done nothing to offend him!” you exclaimed, sitting next to wanda and natasha having some “girl talk” on the couch.

“i think he’s into you and doesn’t know how to go about it,” natasha replied calmly, sending you a knowing grin.

“no!” you exclaimed there’s no way he would like me back! he doesn’t talk to me, unless it’s to comment on my skills!”

“(y/n), you’ve been here for almost a year now, you seriously haven’t noticed? when you first walked in, i saw him staring, and clint doesn’t let his guard down that easily,” natasha argued.

“i felt his feelings that day,” wanda mentioned thoughtfully. “his positive emotions for you were radiating off of him.”

“i’m telling you guys, he’s not into me like that!” you yelled, trying to get them to see reason. clint just didn’t like you that way, and you were fine with that. “all i want is him to at least not insult me every day. i’d be content with friendship.”

“aww, little (y/n)’s crush doesn’t like her back,” tony teased as he walked in. “what did ya do, beat them up?”

“that was one time and you kind of deserved it,” you joked back. “you were being overly nice and it was sickening.”

“okay, you’re right. besides, i know for a fact that you know who found your murderous look very attractive,” tony winked at you and you blushed a very dark shade of red. it was then that the universe decided to screw you over and lo and behold, clint barton walked in, looking for a cup of coffee.

“if you’re looking for coffee, don’t bother, i just finished off the can, i put it on the shopping list,” you mentioned casually, hoping that he wouldn’t kill you.

“what?!” clint pivoted on his feet, glaring at you with rage radiating off of him.

“it’s not that big a deal clint,” you tried to placate him. “you already had like five cups earlier, but if you really need caffeine, you can finish mine.”

“ew, i’d rather share coffee with steve and he fills half the cup with milk! just keep the coffee metal mouth,” he sassed, turning to hole up in his room again.

“why do you hate me so much?” you questioned, your voice sounding slightly weaker than clint had ever heard in all the time he had known you. at your words, everyone awkwardly made excuses and walked away, leaving you and clint alone in the common area.

“why clint?” you asked again, your voice breaking. “you do nothing but insult me, call me names, and make fun of me. i thought that by being an avenger, people would like me but no, it’s like grade school all over again.”

when he didn’t respond, you sighed, turning away and letting the tears flow freely down your face. not wanting him to see you like this, lest he started calling you “crybaby.” before you even took a step you felt his hand grab your wrist and turn you around to face him.

“i don’t hate you (y/n),” he said taking your hands in his, staring down at them, not wanting to make eye contact, avoiding the tears he had caused. “i don’t hate you at all.”

“really?” you asked sniffling a little, hope leaking into your voice.

“yeah, i like you a lot actually,” he laughed at little. “like a lot a lot.”

“nat was right,” you whispered to yourself. clint heard an laughed a little awkwardly, dropping your hands to rub the back of his neck, finally meeting your eyes.

“nat was telling you about my crush huh?”

“yeah her and wanda both,” you admitted, kind of enjoying the blush that had spread across the archer’s face. “and tony, and sam, and steve, and bucky.”

“so you knew?” he asked a little sheepishly.

“oh i thought they were lying to me,” you admitted. “didn’t believe a word they said. didn’t think you would actually like me back.”

“why wouldn’t i?” clint laughed a little again. “you’re amazing. you’re strong and intelligent, and probably the sweetest person i’ve ever known, even though you’re deadly with those guns of yours. plus i think you’re really pretty.”

“you think i’m pretty?” you asked, a blush spreading on your face.

“that whole chain of compliments and that’s the one your remember,” clint teased. “but yeah, i do think your pretty. gorgeous, breathtaking, all of those words.”

“wow barton, you sure know how to butter a woman up. one would almost forget the fact that you spent the last 9 months insulting her!” you sassed, wearing a smirk that rivaled his.

“oh yeah,” he shuffled. “about that, i’m really sorry. at first i was jealous and just taking that out on you because i thought that you were going to replace me and then i saw how well you got along with the team and it just made that feeling worse. and then i started to notice little things that you did and it made me feel weird. all fluttery and sweet, and i didn’t know how to act around you so i just kept on pretending to hate you. i didn’t really mean it and i’m really sorry. i really want to make it up to you.”

“i know how you could,” you suggested, realizing how close the two of you had gotten throughout the conversation, and blushing a little bit.

“how?” clint asked. “i’ll do anything.”

“anything?” you smirked, biting your lower lip. “hmm, that sounds tempting.”

“well not anything, but most things,” clint corrected, suddenly staring at your mouth, seemingly entranced by it.

“well, how about you just kiss me and we’ll call it even? how’s that sound clint?” you suggested, emphasizing your use of his first name. clint realized he liked how you said his name, not his last name (though he like that too), but his first name. how each letter rolled off your tongue, and how you emphasized the “t” at the end.

“if you keep saying my name like that, we’ll be fine,” clint joked, though he was being completely serious, and leaning in ever so slightly.

“i think i can handle that, clint,” you smirked before you felt him surge forward, his mouth gently pressing to yours, hands cupping your cheeks.

his hands traveled to your waist with a sudden gentleness that made your heart melt, while yours went up to his hair, pulling a little. he seemed to like because he pulled you even closer, deepening the kiss. your lips felt like silk and clint was pretty sure this was what heaven was. he was pretty far gone and audibly whimpered when you pulled away.

“wow,” he breathed, staring into your (e/c) eyes before leaning in to kiss you again.

“hell yeah! get some barton!” you heard tony yell. clint growled against your lips, taking a hand off of your waist, and because it was clint, you could only assume he flipped tony off. you laughed, pulling away again.

“since you don’t hate me, do you want to go on a date with me sometime?” you asked, giving him another short kiss.

“i wouldn’t hate that,” clint said, smiling as he laced your fingers together.

no prompt for this one, but jesus it was long! requests are open and i really want to write for y’all. i write for the umbrella academy, most marvel characters (not x-men), harry potter and stranger things!! the few things i will not write are incest, pedophilia, and NSFW material. my asks are open so leave requests there!!!

you can find the prompt list here

#clint barton x reader #clint barton fanfiction #marvel #clint barton #hawkeye #hawkeye x y/n #reader insert #hawkeye x reader

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makeste · 5 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 186: Lunch and Then Some Light Noumu Battling

Previously on BnHA: The New JP Hero Billboard Chart Top 10 rankings were announced and the heroes each gave a short little speech. My new adult bird son Can You Smell What The Hawk Is Cooking stole the spotlight by basically saying, “y’all need to stop being such bummers, we’re the best that the world’s got now so let’s fucking act like it.” We learned that Hawks is basically a hero prodigy, having started his own hero agency at the tender young age of 18, and now having risen all the way to #2 at age 22. Anyway, he then handed the mic over to Endeavor who went with the short and sweet “just watch me” route, for better or worse. Afterwards Endeav throttled Hawks a little bit in the privacy of his dressing room, and Hawks apologized and then said he actually needed Endeavor’s help for something. “Do you remember the Noumus?” I then proceeded to lose my shit, as we transitioned to some unknown location where an unknown figure was talking to an unknown Noumu with a Kurogiri face (!) who could TALK BACK (!!!!). Then I really lost my shit omg.

Today on BnHA: Endeavor and Hawks go for a stroll on their lunch break. Hawks casually saves like 15 random people and attracts a crowd of fans seeking autographs and selfies. Meanwhile Endeavor attracts one (1) fan, and tries to offer an autograph of his own only to send the kid running off in tears because Endeavor’s aloof attitude is apparently what makes him cool lol. So as Endeav tries to sort all of that out, he sits down with Hawks in some fancy high-rise restaurant. Hawks tells him about some rumored Noumu sightings that he’s been investigating all across the country. He says he flew out to the locations, but couldn’t find any evidence. He theorizes that someone might be purposely spreading rumors in order to sow fear among the general populace. And he says he wants Endeavor, the newly crowned number one here, to be the one to put the people at ease. Meanwhile he himself just wants to chill out, and he would like nothing better than an ideal world so peaceful that heroes can just relax. Anyway, so then that Talking Noumu from the last chapter comes flying at them from out of nowhere and smashes through the glass and is all “WHICH ONE OF YOU IS STRONGEST.” So Endeavor goes to fight him.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 208 now, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

omg

I think this might be my favorite SJ cover like, ever?? is that a huge overreaction? but like, Deku looks so cool. and I fucking love the colors so much. and don’t think I didn’t notice the distinct BakuDeku theme of this green and orange aesthetic, Horikoshi. because I did! notice! gosh these colors look so good together don’t y’all agree. okay fine I’ll shut the fuck up

lmao

this was such a badass cover and then it’s just. completely ruined by the text in the background being all “TOAST ‘EM”

(ETA: that text was so distracting that I honestly didn’t even notice the Noumu in the background. completely missed that. so observant lol. I probably would have noticed in Mangastream’s version, which says “seething!” but that’s pretty funny too tbh)

jesus Endeavor calm the fuck down and put yourself out already. why are you always so fucking angry

holy shit

well now, that’s one hell of an opening hook

the text is all “ever since I could remember, I’ve lived at the whim of others.” and apparently this dude found it suffocating

so here we have a disgruntled office worker about to shoot the place up, presumably? or like, the quirk equivalent of that. how fucking creepy

oh my GOD

IS HE STRIPPING NAKED TO GAIN MORE EMBARRASSMENT POWER

what the fucking fuck oh my lord. every so often Horikoshi is just like “lol I thought of a really weird thing. let’s just roll with it and see where it takes us”

so this man with his weird humiliation kink thinks he’s all that, but!

did Hawks just shoot fucking feathers to cover this man’s R-rated parts

also if Endeavor is even 1% like his youngest son, his favorite food will be soba. moment of truth!

goddammit, Endeavor’s just completely ignoring the question, and he’s actually focusing on stopping the flasher guy while Hawks continues to talk about food

lmao now this stupid fucking dog is running out into traffic

don’t worry kids, Hawks fired off more wings to spirit sweet, stupid Schwartz away to safety

you had me until “chicken liver” Hawks but I guess I could keep an open mind

does Hawks ever actually make eye contact with anyone

I’m starting to feel like he’s the type who would deliberately turn around if he ever did happen to be facing the same direction as whoever he was rescuing. he only does casual rescues

oddly enough I’m liking him less than I did before. Too Cool For That Shit is just not my type. I prefer Too Grumpy For That Shit and/or Actually Fully Enthusiastic And Earnest And Will Do The Uncool Thing Without Hesitation

but I have a feeling that what we see might not be what we get here, so let’s just wait a bit. idk just a feeling about him. because he sure as heck didn’t have that meteoric rise by not giving a damn

(ETA: okay so! needless to say my fears were unfounded as it turns out Hawks’s thing is not Too Cool For That Shit, but actually Too Tired For That Shit, which is actually one of my favorite types. Too Cool is just the persona he puts on because it’s what’s expected of him. but in actuality the reason he seems so nonchalant is because his heart isn’t really in it. this was never something he wanted to do; it was something he was more or less forced into because he was so talented and With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility, and so it didn’t really matter what he personally wanted or didn’t want. in other words, Hawks is the very first Reluctant Hero I think we’ve had in this series. he’s someone who is more or less trapped in his role, and by now he’s become very, very good at what he does, but more than anything he would like to one day not have to do it anymore.

but of course not only does he not have that option, he’s somehow managed to get himself in way deeper than most of his peers will ever have to worry about. not only does he have to contend with the everyday stresses of hero life, but he also has a fun undercover double agent mission to worry about! so add in the fear of being caught and the stress of having to play both sides, while all the while trying his best to make sure no innocents get hurt! and having to think about all of this constantly!

basically, up until now I wouldn’t have thought that anyone could come along and actually contend with Aizawa for the title of Most Exhausted Character in the series. but not only does Hawks contend, I think it’s actually no contest. and yet he does it anyway. without complaint. well with a little bit of complaining, but under the guise of being a lackadaisical young twenty-something who isn’t particularly concerned about anything.

he actually ends up confessing more to Endeavor than I would have expected, given all this. like he was straight up confiding in him. that all turned out to be completely true. but because he says it with that carefree smile, you don’t realize at first how much he’s just kind of quietly suffering underneath it all. like that dog in the house on fire saying this is fine. like, no it fucking isn’t, but he puts on such a good act of being completely unconcerned. it’s astounding in hindsight.

my god I have so many fucking feelings about Hawks apparently. I didn’t mean to essay this much and there are probably more essays on the way too lol. I love my tired bird son too damn much and I hope to god he doesn’t get himself killed fffff.)

anyways he’s signing autographs and giving interviews and shit, and meanwhile Endeavor is just completely being ignored

okay now they’re acknowledging him, but it’s the usual “man, he’s scary!”

(ETA: CAN’T YOU SEE-KUNNNNN)

this kid knows what’s what. Inasa was fucked up for years because of his I Asked Endeavor For An Autograph trauma

now Endeavor is silently and intimidatingly turning his head toward the kids and walking over

by the way these children are fucking adorable and I want take them all home and give them sandwiches and juice boxes

(ETA: I’m so glad Can’t You See-kun is even acknowledged in-universe as the most adorable child on the face of the earth. if anyone ever deserved to become a beloved meme it’s him)

oh shit Endeavor’s making an effort!!

he’s really trying to fix that image omg

but it’s not working!

oh snap. it’s just like All Might said, huh. remember he told you not to try to copy him and to do your own thing, Endeavor

the kid is having a meltdown now and saying that Endeavor doesn’t need fanservice and that the lone wolf attitude is what makes him cool

okay but you can be a lone wolf and still be Not A Dick, though

now the kid is running away crying. jesus christ. well so much for those juice boxes then. maybe I’ll just give them to your shark-looking friend

Endeav’s just staring in confusion and wondering where he went wrong

where you went wrong is being a dick for 40 years. change isn’t just going to come overnight. but you need to keep at it! if you want to be nicer just be nicer, and eventually either your fans will warm up to the change, or you’ll get new fans

(ETA: I stand by this, for the record. I know this arc is doing a whole thing of showing how Endeavor can be a different type of hero than All Might and still be someone that people rely on. but in addition to this I think that if he genuinely wants to be more approachable than he should just keep working at it even if people are naturally going to be really confused by it at first)

anyways so now we’re cutting to some fancy high-rise restaurant and Endeav and Hawks are eating in what seems to be a private room

or more accurately, Hawks is eating, and Endeavor is just sitting there with his arms crossed same as always

are you sure Shouto isn’t adopted? that kid loves stuffing his face during serious discussions

(ETA: lmao and he even does it yet again at the end of this arc. I don’t know why I’m always so tickled by this but I just love it)

anyway, so Hawks is replying that when he wants something he just goes for it. “it’s just my nature”

he apparently tried to draft Shouto after the sports festival! interesting

but he says he’s glad that he ended up with Tokoyami in the end

wow but kind of a dick reason -- “Shouto-kun’s brand took a hit after he failed his provisional license exam”

is he just trying to rile up Endeavor here? interesting

Endeavor says Hawks knows a lot for someone who never went to U.A.

which we kind of already knew (that he’s not a U.A. alum), because otherwise he would have been involved in the Kamino mission. but I wonder where he did graduate from. is he a Shiketsu alum?

how mysterious

(ETA: in the Mangastream version he says “I’ve always been a good observer, you see,” which is something that gets called back to later)

anyway, now Endeavor’s getting impatient and demanding to get to the point

ahasfhkhlkj

yesssss more info about them omgggg. how are there even Noumus anymore with AFO locked up??

okay so Hawks is reiterating the stuff we already know, that “scores” of Noumus were captured along with All for One at Kamino. and that since then, even though the League has been active, they haven’t been able to confirm any new appearances of Noumus

hmm, I see, so it’s going to turn out that it was B

(ETA: actually now I’m wondering if there might be a C and this is purposely trying to mislead us! because everyone always assumed that AFO was the only one capable of producing Noumus, but what if that isn’t the case though?)

Endeavor says that since Hawks wants to team up, that must mean he’s actually found proof of this so-called “rumor”

oh my god Endeavor. why couldn’t we have had you during the last arc. you would have had us out of that bullshit basement in no time flat

(ETA: for real, this arc is only what, nine chapters? the man knows how to move things along)

okay now Hawks is saying that this isn’t the only place where Noumus have been sighted, and that there are rumors all around the country -- though not in the news -- and people have been gossiping

oh for fuck’s sake could you get to the point already Hawks. stop dramatically building up to it

blah blah he heard it from locals when he went on a business trip, and he did a secret investigation at that time but wasn’t able to turn anything up

so he says he got interested after that, and flew around the country to investigate further

so apparently there were similar rumors cropping up in completely unrelated parts of the country, with slight variations

but in the end he wasn’t able to validate any of the rumors

so then if this is all true, how many of these Noumu 2.0s are there??

(ETA: and is any of it actually true? it’s hard to say at this point. I’m learning toward “yes”, or else why bring it up in the first place. there’s gonna be a Noumu arc coming up in the future at some point I think. Noumu Wars)

so Hawks is continuing to munch on his yakitori and he says that ever since the incidents at U.A., Hosu, and Kamino, everyone knows about the Noumus now, and he wonders if it’s just “some asshole with a motive to spread unease” who’s spreading rumors throughout the country

okay but we the readers know for a fact it’s not! and you wouldn’t have called Endeavor to team up if you really thought it was just rumors. so when are you going to get to your point

...no way he’s talking about All for One, is he? "a criminal from a long time ago.” someone who wanted ability users to be free. was AFO the Magneto of his day once upon a time?

(ETA: actually, thinking about this more I think maybe it was the mysterious Destro who was mentioned by Gentle not too long ago and who I’m still hoping to learn more about. he was the leader of the Quirk Liberation Army or something along those lines wasn’t he? definitely sounds like a Magneto type)

he says that the more fear a society has, the more these kind of delusions sell and spread

Endeavor is again telling him to stop being a dramatic fuck and to just get to the point

wha

seriously?? you invited him to lunch just to ask him that?

Endeavor’s asking him what his angle is

did fucking Hawks just admit he wants to 420 blaze it. in my good Christian manga. which takes place and is published in Japan where weed will get you thrown in fucking prison for the better part of a decade. something tells me this is Jaimini’s Box taking certain liberties lol

(ETA: yeah, in Mangastream’s version he says “sit back with a nice cold one” which is much more in line with Japanese culture lol. still, Hawks does give off that stoner vibe a bit, can’t deny)

aww, but this part is sweet

though you do know you’ll end up putting a lot of heroes out of a job lol. safer world = no need for heroes. I’m sure most heroes would take that trade-off any day though

so now Endeavor is being all quiet and seemingly thoughtful

and he’s looking out the window

and... whaaaat is this

...do not fucking tell me this is a Noumu

holy fuck it’s a Noumu

um, what? can we back up just a sec? we just had a whole long discussion all about how there have been no verified Noumu sightings since AFO was locked up, and now one just happens to show up the instant the #1 and #2 heroes are done having their little talk?

lmao and now the hostess is coming with the check

maybe this Noumu’s uncannily good timing was cancelled out by this lady who has the worst timing that any human person has ever had in the history of existence

holy shit look how dramatic this is!?

“HELLO MY NAME IS TALKING NOUMU. WHICH IS THE STRONGEST ONE. RARRRR”

Endeavor is telling Hawks to lead the evacuation

Hawks is asking “what about you?” as if that part wasn’t obvious

RIGHT? suspiciously good timing if you ask me. I don’t have any real clue what’s going on yet, but damned if this is a coincidence

anyways now Endeavor is showing us just why he’s the current number one!

TAKE THAT, SUSPICIOUS TALKING NOUMU

and next chapter we’ll apparently get a whole Endeavor battle. well I hope it’s interesting! this arc is off to a bit of a weird start for me, but I think it’s because several of the pieces have yet to fall into place completely. there are a lot of weird coincidences and things that seem Just A Little Bit Off, and I feel like once we learn why, I’m going to be like, “ohhhhhhh!!”

(ETA: yeah, needless to say there were a lot of “ohhhhhh!!” moments and this arc is incredibly dense on a reread. so much going on here omg. this is good stuff)

no bonus today! I almost ran out of time to even put tags. anyways, toast ‘em Endeavor

#bnha #boku no hero academia #endeavor #hawks #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #I spent too much time essaying about hawks apparently #'oooh I'm hawks'#'I'm ridiculously handsome and have secret angst'#'not to mention a super secret spy mission with plot potential for days'#'and that has like a ninety percent likelihood of getting me either traumatized or killed'#damn you hawks

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phoenixmakeswords · 5 years

Text

100 Follower Celebration--Part 1

That’s right. Part one. I’m horrible with decisions, so I’m giving y’all more than one thing. To start things off, here’s the first chapter of the dragon shifter thing. Enjoy!

The sound of human voices downstairs both alarms me and reawakens my hunger. I was human once. But now I'm the monster in the dark, the thing that goes bump in the night.

I move silently through the rickety old house that’s become my prison. I want to see these foolish, stupid humans. Don’t they know what this house is? Haven’t they heard the legends of a fairy tale come true? Don’t they know I eat people like them? They’ll see the bones of the others soon enough. The would-be heroes come to slay the vicious dragon. Of course I ate them; I don’t particularly feel like dying.

I stick to the shadows on the second floor. The house is mostly shadows now; they’re where I blend in.

Five human men sit on the battered, dusty red couch in the living room. They’re not armed. Or not that I can see, and I can see quite well.

“It’s an urban legend. Nobody’s ever seen a dragon,” one of them snaps in exasperation. He has a strident voice that grates on my nerves. I might eat him first just so I don’t have to hear his voice again.

“What’re we gonna do if it’s not a legend? Hope it doesn’t eat us?” one of the dark-haired ones retorts. Three of the five have dark hair. I don’t like this one either. I don’t appreciate being called an it. I am a him, thank you very much.

“Ah, but the legend says the dragon was sent here by its mother. Doesn’t it? Because she caught him with another boy. All we have to do is catch the beast.”

I’ve heard enough. I don’t need a reminder of my past. They don’t know the whole story. Nor do they deserve to.

I wasn’t sent here by my mother. She brought me here to protect me. She loved me.

I slink to the top floor. I like it better up here; it’s sunnier. I like sunning myself on the wood floor.

I miss being human sometimes. If I were human, I’d probably be friends with those guys downstairs. I miss being outside in the sunlight; I can only go out at night to hunt so no one sees me. I miss ice cream and not eating raw meat. I was vegetarian before this. The worst part of all of this is not knowing if I can ever be human again.

I stretch out in the sunny spot on the floor. The warm sunlight feels good. I might even go back to sleep.

I think what I miss the most is the boy I fell for when I was still human. I wonder often what happened to him. If he’s happy. If he found some guy who loves him as much as I did. As much as I still do.

He’d run away screaming if he saw me now, I think sadly, resting my chin on one of my forelegs.

Once the sun goes down, I’ll hunt. I don’t want to eat the humans downstairs unless I don’t have an option.

Their voices carry upstairs, though I try to tune them out. Until I hear Aaron’s familiar smoky voice. The sun seems just a little brighter. He’s still alive. He’s here. I can at least see him again, though he won’t know who I am. To him, I’ll just be a monster.

I creep stealthily back downstairs. I just want a glimpse of him.

I flatten myself along the wall where I'm hidden. Where I'm safe.

He’s chatting with the one who called me an it. He doesn’t sound happy.

“Look, just because I don’t know the story, doesn’t mean we have to kill him if he exists. He might not be dangerous! Have you thought of that? He might have been defending himself,” Aaron shouts irritably. His eyes sparkle like Fourth of July fireworks with his anger.

My stomach sinks at his words. They’re planning on killing me. I haven’t done anything to them, but they’ve already decided on my death. Why shouldn’t I decide on theirs? Why should I bother trying to give them a chance and be less of a monster when they’re not going to do the same thing?

I don’t realize I moved away from the wall until I see Aaron’s eyes fix on me. I'm dead. I'm a dead dragon.

I slink back to my lair. I need to plot. The sun’s just started to set when they find the bones in the kitchen. All it does is give them more ammo against me. Make them want my death more.

I’ll bide my time. They’ll attack. And I’ll be eating good for a while. Except for Aaron. I won’t hurt him. I can’t. No matter what he does to me, I’ll die before I hurt him.

I wait until the stars have made an appearance and things are quiet in the house before making my way to the window. It takes more effort on my part than it should to work the window open; I don’t exactly have opposable thumbs right now and the window frame is swollen with rain.

The night air feels good on my face.

I clamber gracefully onto the metal steps. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to spread my wings like this. I don’t hunt often. Probably not as often as I should anyway. It’s been a couple weeks since I last did this.

I don’t think I’ll ever get used to flying. I hope I never do. It’s incredibly freeing. The wind in my face. The moonlight on my back. The steady beat of my wings. I love it. It might be the one thing about being a dragon I enjoy.

I stay away from the town when I hunt. Away from the lights. I don’t want to be seen.

It isn’t long before I spot the deer. They’re grazing peacefully in a farmer’s field near New Hebron. They don’t run when they smell me. They should.

I take two of the smaller ones. They’ll keep me from starving for a couple more weeks. I don’t like doing this, but I can’t eat grass. I’ve tried. Tried eating a tree too; all I got for that was a splinter between my teeth.

I’m sorry, I think, nudging the bones away from the road. I know coyotes and other scavengers will come investigate and I don’t want them to be hit by a car.

I have humans in my lair when I get back. A low growl tears from my throat when I see the variety of weapons they bear: Knives; guns; pipes, and a baseball bat. Aaron is the only one unarmed.

“Don’t do this,” he pleads, stepping between his friends and me. “He hasn’t tried to hurt us. Why provoke him?”

“He’s a monster! Just look at him!” Strident Voice retorts, gesturing at me with his free hand. Tail whipping angrily, I huff in response. “Did you miss the bones?”

“Maybe he didn’t mean to. Do we have to hurt him? If we leave him alone, maybe we can coexist.” Aaron, ever the peacemaker. That worked out real well for him when my dad caught us together. Worked out real well for both of us. At least Aaron didn’t turn into a monster.

I stretch my neck out and rest my head lightly on his shoulder. He smells just like I remember: Axe Phoenix, leather, and mint. His heart rate skyrockets at the contact.

“See? He could tear my head off right now but he’s not.”

He makes me feel a tiny bit more human. He’s good at that.

“He’s just waiting for you to let your guard down,” Pipe Dude #1 spits, inching closer.

He swings the pipe at my neck. Snarling, I catch the pipe in my teeth and jerk it from his grasp. I don’t want to hurt him, but I will if he pushes me.

I straighten to my full height, a low growl rumbling in my chest. They should run.

“See? How are we supposed to renovate this stupid house with him here?” Pipe Dude #1 demands.

“Why can’t we? He wasn’t hurting us before. He’s only upset now because you attacked him. Anyone would be.”

The last time Aaron defended me, we had been making out on my bed when my dad walked in on us. He tried to take the fall. He got between us when my dad started screaming at me. I stepped in when my dad punched him. It made things worse for me because how dare I defend my boyfriend. The last time I saw Aaron, his nose was bleeding from my dad’s fist. He hasn’t changed.

Purring, I bump my snout against his head gently. Even if I’m never human again, I want to enjoy this moment.

As much as I want to eat his friends, I won’t because it will hurt him. I can’t hurt him. I’m not that much of a monster. I still slink into the hall to watch them in the morning. It’s becoming my favorite hobby. Except it might get me killed.

I listen to their renovation plans. Apparently, they’re planning on selling it once they get done. Again, my death is brought up. Like it’s the only thing that matters. I don’t want to die.

“We’re not killing him,” Aaron sighs in exasperation.

I think I might love him just a little bit more for that.

“He was supposed to be a freaking myth,” Strident Voice snaps.

“What was the rest of the legend anyway? I haven’t heard it before.”

“So, five years ago, this guy, Leo Something-Or-Other brought a guy home. Things were getting pretty hot and heavy between them when Leo’s parents found out. They weren’t too thrilled about their son being gay. They flipped out and their hatred is what made Leo turn into a dragon.” He sounds skeptical but he’s closer to the truth than I’m comfortable with.

Aaron’s face is unreadable as he rakes a hand through his chestnut curls. I wish I knew what he’s thinking.

“That’s interesting,” Aaron says finally.

#my writing #100 follower celebration #dragon shifter #writeblr #writers on tumblr #lgbt romance

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