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jodilin65 · 33 years

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TUESDAY, APRIL 23, 1991 It’s so hard to believe I’ve only been here for 23 days. It seems like so much longer.

Kim and I have continued to have great times together. Can you believe she bought me $75 roller skates?! They’re so nice too. They’re the boot kind and they’re indoor skates rather than my old outdoor sneaker skates. The boots are white with neon pink wheels. Since I got my schedule pretty much normal, I’m gonna go roller skating this Thursday night.

Next, she’s talking about a new spring jacket. You know me, I never ask and she won’t take no for an answer, but it feels weird. Only my parents would buy me stuff like that. But then again, Brenda bought stuff here and there till she came into money problems and I helped her out. I was more than happy to return the favor, but not for crack.

Kim may have gotten a job at the doctor’s office where I went to follow up on my asthma. He gave me a new inhaler and in between that and the clean fresh air, my breathing better. Also, my skin looks and feels better and my hair is growing faster and my hair always grew like a weed to begin with.

This Earth Day thing has hundreds of people spending many hours cleaning up the Mill River. They wait till I leave to do it.

I spoke with Jenny who called earlier and we had a nice chat. Bill hasn’t called back yet but I’ve spoken with Hank and Nervous and have yet to speak with Jessie, Steve or Brenda. I’m not sure that I will but I’ve got to contact Jessie to arrange for her to either bring the bathing suits she borrowed up here or mail them. I don’t know yet when Tammy’s coming up yet or when Mom and Dad are.

Oh, almost forgot, I spoke with Andy yesterday and I played him new edits.

I do have more to write about but I’m in one of my phases where I’m not in the mood to write so, I’ll continue updating later.

THURSDAY, APRIL 11, 1991 I had a really good talk with Kim last night and she bought me something that cost between $20-$40 and has 20 or 30 pieces and also 5-6 colors but insists it’s a surprise. She says I’ll love it and that she can’t wait till I see it. She also said it was something I mentioned once or twice when we first met. She kept giving me all these weird clues and even drew part of it from two different angles. I still have no idea what the heck it is, but I guess it’s music-related.

Tammy also called to tell me she may be here the weekend after next but she’ll soon let me know for sure. Lisa still has strep throat and I spoke with her, too, briefly. Tammy also said that a cat she’s been feeding had two kittens under Lisa’s bed. She may give them to me, but I have to wait 6 more weeks before they’re done nursing. I also told Tammy how Kim feels about Mark and how she feels about me.

TUESDAY, APRIL 9, 1991 Kim came over and we chatted for a while. This week she’s gonna take me to get the discount form for the heat/AC bill. Also, I’ll go to SS and welfare about my food stamps. I don’t need to sign up for next winter’s fuel assistance program till this July or August. I will not transfer banks till my book of checks run out and I’m now on my last book. The other thing I’ve got to do is get a new address label for my license. Thank God I don’t need to renew it till ‘93 or ‘94. All I have to do is get this little sticker you stick on the back of it. I remember that when I moved to Oswego St. Of course, moving back to Woodside Terrace, all I needed to do was peel the sticker off.

I watched a little TV earlier with Mark and when Kim was here I played her the slurred edits. Of course, she was amused. I mean, they are so funny. I’ll never get sick of any of my edits although I need to start doing more which I’ve got to send to Andy along with other stuff. Old stuff that he never got that got edited right after he got the tapes I made for him and that was quite long ago. I think the last thing Andy got was Donna A so I’ll pick up from there if that’s where I left off.

I’ll write more about my hair and weight later. I may verbalize it a lot but haven’t written about it in a long time.

MONDAY, APRIL 8, 1991 Damn, am I bored! I wish Kim were here more often. I guess I’d still much rather be bored here than in Crack Alley. I am, however, going out Wednesday and Thursday nights.

Shadow didn’t go roof climbing today but he sure did once again yesterday. I made the perfect leash for him too, or so I thought. I took an old necklace that wasn’t too tight, nor was it loose enough for him to slip it off over his head. Then I tied a long ribbon securely to the necklace but he managed to snap the necklace in half. I’ve got to get a real leash.

Other than that I did nothing spectacular today other than walk to the store to buy smokes and watch A Current Affair.

There is something me and Kim are working on. The same fun project as what we did with that Dr. Statz. You know, snooping. Of course, as I mentioned before, the doc is gay. Or bi, I should say, but is married to some rich lawyer. Well, it’s this cop and you know I’ve always had a thing for them. I don’t know her name, therefore I’ve given her the name Jamie. Like I said long ago, every now and then I’m attracted to one where you can tell. Remember? It’s once in a million years with a feminine one and once in a billion years with a half-butchy one. Never a diesel butch. Well, maybe I should keep that last line and change the rest. Every 15 years with a feminine one and every 50 years with a half and half. You can tell but she’s pretty at the same time and Kim agrees.

Kim tried snooping around yesterday but couldn’t get her alone. She did hear Jamie say how much she hates Springfield and when she has kids, she’s not raising them in Springfield. Kim then asked her if she was married and Jamie said no and then quickly changed the subject.

Kim is like me. We both know things instantly about all kinds of people. Things that most people never know unless they’re told or find out somehow someway. My gut feeling is that she’s spoken for. She’s a cop. Not that God would allow me to have her anyway and if he did I’d dump her real soon of course. Or, of course, she’d dump me if I didn’t dump her. Anyway, it all comes down to what I said before about snooping and playing detective. It’s fun and the chase is always better than the capture. I like to be wondering and guessing even though I know I’ll never have her.

Oh. I never mentioned how I ran into her, but it was by asking for a light at the ER while waiting for Brenda to pick me up. I also think I may have seen her a little over a year or so ago late at night when Andy and I were out. Another thing is, and God I hope to hell I’m wrong, but I think that when I was dragged into jail for calling that pig, she might have seen me there.

I’ll keep writing about what happens (nothing).

SATURDAY, APRIL 6, 1991 I just spoke with Andy who’s still doing just fine and loving Phoenix. He reminded me that our clocks here go ahead an hour but they don’t change out there. Weird, huh? He’ll now be 3 hours earlier.

I played him the slurred edits, where I had the pause button partially down. They are so funny. I may do more editing later now that I have two tracks in working condition.

I fell asleep near 5 AM yesterday morning and woke, as usual, 4 hours later with an attack. Not a killer one, but a very annoying one. Kim is picking me up a refill on Alupent on her way to Springfield to work at Baystate. I’ve got a doctor that Kim called to follow up with this Monday.

Also, I stopped my Theodur like a jerk, but you know I hate any kind of drug. After the Navane, I’ve been really paranoid although that too has been better since I moved. What a major curse Springfield was.

Kim is so great and so sweet. She’s everything I look for in a person. I feel I can never express how grateful I am for all that she’s done for me. It’s like being rescued from Valleyhead. She’s a person that comes rare and is far and few between. I will just repay her by being a good friend.

Also, I was right from the very beginning as I may have mentioned before. She is very attracted to me and who I am. It’s amazing too, as I’ve always said, “Is there anyone out there who’s sane and upper class but yet will accept me for who and what I am?”

Sure enough, as we both agreed, we’re a lot alike. Not all serious, not all nuts. We’re both half-sane, half-insane. Also, she’s like me in always wanting to help others. I feel guilty, though, as I have no money to give her if she needed it. She doesn’t need it but part of me wishes we could swap incomes for a week or so, so I could do for her what she’s done for me. I wish she were here with me now. I could use the company and I’m bored but I don’t do walks at night even though I can usually defend myself quite well. I did cruise up and down Elm St. a bit today at around 2:30. It was 80º today and I got a great breeze through my windows, even though Kim and I have yet to figure out how to open the skylights. Thank God cats are sure-footed as Shadow went roof cruising for an hour or so. Can you believe it? I was scared shitless for him at first but even though he enjoyed it and was not hurt, I’m getting him a leash. That way he can also accompany me on walks. I tried taking a big ribbon and tying him up to one of the posts on the deck but he just kept slipping it off of his neck and going about his tour.

I feel so happy and safe since I’ve moved, but at the same time, a little lonely. I miss my friends and I can’t lie, you know me, but the urge for a lover is picking up here and there. I hate that feeling. I’ve learned now, that those feelings don’t mean I’m weak and yes I know you can be with someone and still be independent, but I still wish I could want to be alone 100% of the time. Oh well. I couldn’t get someone if I wanted to as I’ve written about 10 billion times before.

Getting back to Kim, sometimes I wish she were here to give me a hug and just hold me, but I try to keep my feelings inside. There’s no point saying anything. The last thing I need to do is make her feel depressed or burdened in any way and I don’t want her to feel used. I only hope I haven’t talked too much already. I also feel like a jerk cuz all my bottled-up frustration came out earlier today when I had that attack. Sometimes that’s the only way to vent it out, though, and get it out of me, rather than trash my place or something stupid like that. Those days are over and I haven’t slashed my wrists since age 17 and even though I was trapped, a minor and couldn’t and wouldn’t hurt the ones hurting me. Like I said, they’re over.

I don’t want to lead Kim on either, as I am not attracted to her.

Time for some hot chocolate.

I want to be a singer!!!

Wait till I tell Kim about that call.

FRIDAY, APRIL 5, 1991 South Deerfield…

Boy, do I ever have lots to write about. Yes, I’ve finally moved and man oh man is it quiet here. No people yelling. No horns honking. All you hear 2-3 times a day, but only during the day, is a train passing by. It runs right by Kim’s apt. I like trains, though.

Today is my father’s birthday. He’s 60, but he says he still feels young. No one in the family looks their age except for Tammy.

Tammy had told me she was writing a farewell letter to Mom, but she and Dad could call to keep in touch with Lisa, Becky, and Sarah. However, she must have spoken to them or maybe only Dad cuz he said earlier tonight that Tammy said she was gonna drive up this weekend but Lisa got sick.

I feel like I’m on some luxury vacation in a big beautiful hotel. I mean this place is huge! I never thought I’d laugh my ass off about the Woodside apartment. I had so much fun using my dishwasher, Jacuzzi, trash compactor and my washer and dryer.

It also is easier to breathe here for sure and the temperature was 72º today. Therefore, I had my big window door open and other windows and I got a hell of a breeze. We are more up in the mountains and cuz it’s further north, it’s colder and it snows more in the winter.

Shadow loves it here. He seems much happier here and causes less trouble. No more eating my napkins or going in the pails.

Like I mentioned before, we each have our own stairwells. There are 30 stairs that go straight up and Shadow loves it when I toss his balls down and he chases them. His litter box is down there too, along with Gloria’s pictures. I keep him there at night with a bowl of dry food. His canned food is up in the kitchen. And, of course, the toilet paper in the bathroom.

The day before I left, Jai came over and we had a great visit. I saw his place too and says he and Jenny will come up sometime. Also Steve and Jessie and hopefully Brenda, too. Also, Nervous came up the day before I moved and helped Kim and I drain the waterbed. It really was easy and lots of fun. I really enjoyed Nervous visiting, too.

Later…

I just finished listening to my stereo. I used that $488 fuel assistance check but I got a great deal on it anyway. It’s sort of like my old stereo which Brenda now has. It looks a lot like it and it came with the same kind of stand. I got it all for only $275 and that includes a turntable, dual cassette, AM/FM radio, and the CD player. The CD player was a separate unit. Editing works out great and the only thing I hate is the continuous play. I can’t rewind a tape while I’m listening to another. I have one speaker on top of the bedroom. The bedroom is the only one with a lower ceiling and is basically in the center of the place. The cathedral ceilings slant down over that and the rest of the place. The bedroom ceiling does slant too and part of it is straight. It’s super hard to describe. You have to see it.

Earlier, I had pork chops for dinner with Kim and Mark.

Mark saw the place since it’s all been fixed up and decorated and he freaked. Kim saw it when I got it all done 2 days ago. I love to decorate. I guess it’s the creativity in me and also being artistic.

So that’s it. Other than that, I spoke with Tammy and Hank, painted my nails and drew a picture.

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arsenicxarcana · 3 years

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m5(4?) helping you rehabilitate banished lucio

or rather reacting to “hey i brought this hobo home can we keep him”

(tending towards nadia’s/THD)

NADIA:

oh you poor sweet summer child, what have you done

may lock him up in the dungeons at first, to make sure he can’t try anything

hope you like loud goat wailing that can be heard across the palace because the absolute LAST thing he wants is to be isolated again

you have to convince her he’s in no state to answer for his crimes like this, not yet, let him recover a little first - all he wants right now is a warm bed and someone to care about him, not taking over vesuvia

(and if this changes you can put him right back in jail)

this does not change, he’s mostly interested in staying close to you

for the most part she remains hands-off, just authorizing various acquisitions for him like any other guest

he will sometimes try to give her little gifts, usually food/wine or little trinkets left outside her door like a cat bringing dead mice

she takes them when no one is around

she may catch him at this one day, and they have a little talk through the crack in the door because he’ll bolt if she opens it

“i’m sorry” “i know. i can’t forgive you” “i know”

this becomes a thing, usually late at night, sitting by her door and telling her things, bringing her more specific gifts based on any troubles she might have had, asking her for advice about making you happy

eventually, maybe, you might even be able to convince them to take lunch together, with you sitting between them as a trusted shield

JULIAN:

he WANTS to say absolutely not, not in a million years, he doesn’t deserve the kindness, especially not yours

he WANTS to send him right back to the realms himself, or call the guards, anything to keep him away from you

but he is a doctor, and helping is in his nature

and it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that this poor bastard needs help

and he knows what it’s like to be alone and uncertain of your future

lucio treats him as if they were already old friends, something that seems to endear and rankle him

at first he says he’ll only check him over to make sure he’s not hurt or sick, then you’re on your own, he washes his hands of this nonsense

then he says maybe bring him back around later for another check-up, just in case he missed something the first time

then he says that maybe you two could stick around for a little while, it looks like there’s a storm on the horizon

then he says the room above the clinic is open, most of the time, he’s much too busy to sleep as much as he should, if lucio needs somewhere to lie low for a bit

then he says actually there’s my place in south end, a bit more accommodating but no less abandoned, that might be a little more your speed

and then you find yourself all three coming back from a night on the town, crashing higgledy-piggledy in and around julian’s bedroom, a tangle of limbs and drunken laughter

julian attempts to cook breakfast for you afterwards, with mixed results

(just because lucio will eat it doesn’t mean it’s edible)

ASRA:

he trusts your judgment

usually

not this time, please put that thing back where it came from or so help me

i don’t care if he doesn’t want to go back he can’t stay here, not in this house, not after everything he’s done

there MAY be a fight and it MAY get ugly

either asra storms tf out or they kick both of you out for the night before he can do something stupid

they feel bad as hell, at least for you

if you’ve been kicked out, you take lucio down to the rowdy raven and set up together in the spare room above the bar (and he’s probably crying bc he’s about 75% sure you’re going to get rid of him for Causing Problems)

if asra left, you let lucio have the couch but you’re not about to sleep until asra comes back (crying less, still awkward as hell)

finally, either way, he comes to apologize

but he really, really doesn’t want you to keep the goat and pls think of an alternative? why does it have to be you?

“i’m the one that put him there in the first place”

you don’t! have to feel bad for that!! look at him he’s fine

(lucio currently all but hiding behind you and holding your hand tight, making the saddest little face)

“i can’t just abandon him again, asra. i couldn’t bear it”

oh, curse your good nature

they love that about you but right now it’s the bane of his existence

you tell asra he doesn’t have to forgive him, or even like him - just help me get him back on his feet, pls, just trust me

god. fine. but he sleeps on the couch. and the minute he’s no longer pathetic his ass is out the door

faust stop chilling on his shoulders i swear to god--

PORTIA:

she doesn’t have the old history, but she remembers the recent history (stealing your body and being a dick), so she’s still gonna be hostile

there will probably be at least one physical brawl

will probably definitely make him cry

feels bad about it

pepi seems to trust him for some reason (bc fuck you n*h) and she trusts pepi so it can’t be all bad??

gonna put his ass to work in the vegetable garden if he’s expected to stay in her cottage, which he might because it’s close to the palace (but far from people)

he might complain but honestly this is nothing compared to the realms

in return he gets good food, a warm bath, and a pillow pile shared with you, portia and pepi

portia will definitely help you socialize him, especially if you’re not that extroverted yourself, taking him on trips into the city

once he feels more comfortable around her they feed off each other’s energy until they’re one big mass of chaos

you regret your life choices

her cuddly, affectionate nature lines up nicely with his touch starvation and they often become inseparable at the bed time or other soft, quiet moments where you’re just in each other’s company

MURIEL:

lmao nah

unless this man finds the hobo first AND feels bad enough to not just leave his ass alone in the forest, good luck with getting him to help you with this

your memory privileges are absolutely revoked goodbye

#the arcana #m6 #headcanon #post banishment lucio #taming him down #we are not friends #well ok WANF is what happens when julian finds him first #incredibly niche headcanon posts

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buckys-black-dress · 4 years

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a fine line, part two

a/n: here she is, our promised part two of afl!!! honestly i love writing this series and it has almost all my fav things in one fic, so yup. anyways, again, thank you for reading/sharing/liking my work !! luv u all, x -ali

wc: 5.8k !!!

The tension in the room was palpable.

And although no one knew you two were working together by verbal confirmation, it was clear from the way you were both reacting.

Bucky was rarely this quiet, so it was obvious what was going on.

Also the fact that you seemed frozen in place.

“Y/N? Everything okay?” Wanda’s soft voice filtered in next to you.

You nodded, trying to break away from James’ gaze.

“Mhm, who’re you working with?” You ask, moving away from the topic at hand.

“Oh, you know Professor Vision? He teaches Comp Sci.” Wanda is now visibly blushing, making you curious.

“Ooh, does Wanda have a crush?” Natasha chimes in as she sidles up next to you two. “I got Banner. How about you, Y/N?”

“I uhh, I got... Barnes.” You mumble under your breath.

“Who? I didn’t catch what you said there.” Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I... I got Dr. Barnes.” You said, not even daring to look up at your friends.

“...Oh. Well, that should be... interesting...” Wanda comments.

“...Yeah. It’ll probably be fine!” Natasha tries to comfort you, but there’s a stirring feeling in your stomach that almost makes you feel sick.

“He said there was no way to change it... right?” You ask feebly, trying to hold out hope.

“No... and I wouldn’t want to go head to head with Fury.” Wanda frowns.

“Great.” You conclude, taking a deep breath. “You know what, I can do this. It’s fine, I’ll be fine.” You tell the girls, gathering your things and filing out of the office as people began to leave.

Wanda and Natasha were left watching your retreating form, staring at each other.

“I’ll be surprised if they make it to the end of next week.” Natasha says, earning a shove in her arm from Wanda.

Bucky watched you leave the office, and the gears were most definitely turning in his head.

You spent the rest of the week keeping mostly to yourself, trying to mentally prepare for what you’d have to face next week.

In the email sent out by Fury, he explained that you and your partner should have a lesson outlined prior to Monday so you could get right into teaching. He also explained that you would have to share all of your classes, and somehow correlate the two subjects that each professor taught.

English and History, seems easy, right?

Wrong.

Every idea you’ve emailed James has been shot down, and your patience was wearing thin. You didn’t like being unprepared, and the week would be coming to a close soon.

So naturally, you did what anyone else would do, and knocked on James’ office door until he answered.

“I’m comin’ jeez, would ya hold on?” You hear his voice, muffled by the door, until he swings it open, coming face to face with you. “What do you need, Y/L/N?”

“Oh, lovely to see you too, Dr. Barnes. I just wanted to know if you were actually interested in making our lesson plan. If we’re going to be spending the next few weeks together, we might as well have a plan. And I thought your input might be better, since you’re clearly not a fan of what I’ve shown you so far.” You rambled, moving to stand in the middle of his office, laptop in hand.

“You know, maybe if you sent anything good, I would’ve worked with ya on it. But I just don’t think your style of teaching fits me. It’s too... too intimate. You’re too far up your students’ asses. You get too close, too personal with them.” James explains to you.

You can only scoff at this.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, James, but my students and I have great relationships. If my students don’t like me, or what I teach, they’ll be more inclined to hand in subpar work. But if I make my expectations clear from the start, they’ll know what they have to do to earn an A in my class. That’s why my first two semesters here have been averaging with A’s all across the board.” You explain as simply as you can, because you felt like James was ridiculing you and the way you teach. You worked hard to get where you are today, and you know that’s why your students love coming to class.

Bucky stared at you for a few seconds, trying to process the information you dropped on him.

“So... your students... like you?” He asks, tentatively, almost.

“...Yes? I know you don’t like me, so it might hard to believe that others do, but I don’t think I’m that unappealing.” You scoff, looking at the floor to avoid Bucky’s eyes. “Anyways, do you have any ideas?”

Bucky’s chest tightened with guilt. After the incident at the bar, he was trying to not be as rude to you. He was trying to be more humane, in Steve’s words.

“I... Maybe we can take a look at some of the stuff you sent before. Maybe if you explain it to me face-to-face I’ll understand it better.” Bucky says, and you nod. “Take a seat, we’re gonna be here a while.”

As a few hours passed, you and James actually started a pretty solid outline for lessons. You started working on your first lesson, which would be the origins of literature. You could both talk about it, and you could both bring different aspects to the table.

“On average, how many kids do you have in your classes, Y/N?” James asks you, and your head snaps up at the mention of your first name. You had a moment where you imagine him calling you that way more often, making your throat run dry.

“Uhm,” you cleared your throat, “my biggest class is about thirty students, maximum.” You tell him.

“Really? My smallest is forty...” He tells you, scratching his chin. “Also very male dominated, I’ve noticed.”

You freeze, trying to process this. It’s only ten more kids... you’ll be fine, right?

“You alright, there, Y/L/N?” James chuckles, to which you let out a weak one. You weren’t used to large crowds, they made you anxious, nervous, like you were losing your footing.

“I-I’m fine. Yeah, all good, let’s get back to work.” You tell him, focusing back on your lesson plan.

“It’s uh, getting a bit late. Thinking we should head home soon.” James looks at you a bit longer, trying to gauge your mood.

“Uh- oh, what time is it?” You ask, squinting and cursing yourself for leaving your glasses in your office.

“It’s almost 7:30...” He tells you.

“Oh, I have to go! Lucy, she’s been all alone, I have to feed her!” In a panic, you begin gathering your belongings.

“Lu- Who’s Lucy?” James asks in clear confusion at your sudden panic.

“My cat! Oh, poor baby, she’s probably wondering where I’ve been...” You trail off, making sure you’ve gathered everything you need.

“W-wait, can I get your number?” James asks, and you both freeze.

“M-my number?” You ask, not bothering to hide your shock.

“Well, we’re gonna need to discuss the lesson plan somehow...” He tells you.

“Oh... well, here...” You pull off a post-it note from the pad on his desk and quickly scribble down your number, handing it to him. “I’m not usually on my phone too much, so if I don’t answer within a few hours, try shooting me an email.” You explain, making your way out the door.

“Have a good night, James.” He hears you say quietly before you turn away from the doorframe, and he hears the resonating shutting of your office door not even five minutes later.

Bucky sits in his chair, not having moved an inch from when you left. He stares at the blue post-it with your number scribbled on it.

He picked it up, inspecting it further.

Your handwriting was neat, but flourishing and borderline cursive because of how quickly you wrote.

Bucky pulls out his phone and inputs the number, saving your contact.

Y/N Y/L/N

He then types out a message:

Just wanted to text you so I wouldn’t lose your number. Hope Lucy is okay.

And he hits send, deciding to pack up his things, trying to understand why he chose to include your cat in his message.

And on your end when you check your phone after parking in your apartment building’s parking, you see a message from an unknown number. You choose to not answer until you’ve made it into your apartment and feed Lucy.

You open your messages, staring at it. Something in your chest fluttered, but you pass it off as your hunger, waiting for your dinner to warm up in the oven.

Hi James. Lucy is fine, thanks for worrying. Have a good night.

You send it off, saving his contact but choosing to not look at your phone until after you’ve finished everything that you needed to do.

After finishing some grading, doing the dishes, and adding to the lesson plan, you decide to settle into bed with a book. You check your phone while brushing your teeth.

James Barnes: Good to hear. Do you think we could work on the lesson plan over lunch tomorrow? Just so we can get ahead of the game.

Y/N Y/L/N: Sounds good. Are we still going to also meet up after classes?

It takes a few minutes before your phone dings again.

James Barnes: Yep. Do you want to just come by my place after? Kind of getting stir-crazy in my office. We could also order food.

You stare at your phone. Are you going crazy? Why is he being so... kind?

Before you could even respond, another ping pulls you back out of your thoughts.

James Barnes: You could also bring Lucy with you, if you don’t want to leave her alone at home for too long.

Okay, now you were sure you were going insane. He was being way too nice. Where was this attitude a year ago, when you’d first met him?

But then again, it wouldn’t hurt, right? You were trying to get out of your comfort zone...

Y/N Y/L/N: Sure, that’s good. Are you sure it would be okay if I brought Lucy? I wouldn’t want to impose on your personal space.

His reply was almost instant.

James Barnes: No, I don’t mind at all. Alpine would love the company.

Before you could even wonder who Alpine was, you remember your previous conversation with Steve once.

‘Bucky also has a cat...’

Y/N Y/L/N: Okay, then I’ll be there. You also have a cat?

James Barnes: Oh, yeah. He’s the sweetest. *1 Attachment.*

Opening the image, you see a fluffy, stark white cat. He had big eyes that anyone would swoon over. You look at the foot of your bed where Lucy is curled up into a ball, fast asleep. You carefully snap a picture, smiling at her.

Y/N Y/L/N: I’ll admit, he’s cute. But can he compete with her? *1 Attachment*

You smile, seeing the typing bubble, waiting for him to respond.

James Barnes: Doll, no one can compete with Al. But I can’t deny, Lucy’s a gem.

Reading over the message at least seven times, your eyes keep lingering over the first word. Doll. It was in a loop in your head, the only thought you were having was that one word.

Why did he call me that? Is he flirting with me? No... he doesn’t even like me! But then why would he be talking to me right now? And why would he send me a picture of his cat...

And now your hands were working faster than your brain, typing out a quick response with your stomach doing backflips.

Y/N Y/L/N: Alright, whatever you say, Bucky. I’m heading to bed, good night.

And you don’t wait for a response before shutting off your phone and plugging it in, putting it on do not disturb and abandoning it on your nightstand, flipping open your book. You were trying to clear your thoughts but miserably failing.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky responded with a wide smile at the sight of you using his nickname.

James Barnes: Sweet dreams, Y/N.

That night, Bucky fell asleep with Alpine on the pillow next to him, but a wide smile on his face and his stomach full of butterflies.

Little did he know, so were you.

The next day, you woke up feeling like a brand new woman. You got a decent amount of sleep. You got out of bed and made coffee before you left the house. You arrived to school way earlier than usual.

To be honest, you didn’t know what was going on.

James was being nice. To you. Why the sudden change of heart? Or maybe he was going back to acting like an asshole when he sees you in person. You didn’t really know what to expect.

Honestly, what you expected the least was for a knock to be heard on your door, 15 minutes before your first class of the day.

“Come in!” You say, expecting a student or maybe Natasha or Wanda.

But the door swings open, and there’s James. He’s standing there with two paper bags, undoubtedly from the bakery down the street.

“Hi.” He says. Not offering anything. No explanation, no emotion. No indication of our conversation last night.

“Hi. Did you need something?” You ask, and for once, it wasn’t in a dismissive or cold tone.

“Uh, no. Just wondering if you’ve eaten anything yet today?” James asks, holding up the bags in his hand.

“Uhm... no...” You tell him, not understanding why he was asking.

“Oh, well I have an extra croissant, if you’d like.” He holds up the bags once again.

“Sure, you can sit in here to eat if you’d like...” You offer, not sure of the water you were treading in.

“Oh, thanks.” He sits down and you both pull out the pastries and start eating. “So, how’s Lucy today?” James asks, a slight smirk on his face. You honestly couldn’t tell if he was making fun of you or not.

“Uh, she-she’s good. Clingy as usual. How’s Alpine?” You return the question.

“Same for him, also clings to me like a koala when I leave, I always feel bad, but I don’t really have a choice.” You both giggle at the remark, nodding in agreement.

“I understand. Lucy’s still a kitten too, so she’s been getting attached a lot. But I think I need her just as bad as she needs me.” You tell him, and you don’t know why.

“Oh... no boyfriend?” James asks, and now you really can’t tell if he’s pulling your leg.

“Oh-” You giggle, covering your mouth. “That’s funny. No, no boyfriend.” You continue to laugh until you fall back into silence, and James is just watching you.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, genuinely perplexed at your reaction.

“James, I don’t think either of us are idiots. I don’t think I come off as girlfriend material to most guys.” You laugh again.

It became quiet, and you look back to your computer, ready to end this awkward conversation. You knew you had your insecurities, but it had always been hard for you to put yourself out there. Especially for guys. Your anxiety and introverted nature really put a pause on your already non-existent dating life.

Besides, you’ve always been alone. And you didn’t think that would be changing any time soon.

“Okay, well I’m gonna head out. I have a class to prepare for. See you tonight?” James asks, getting up from his seat across from you.

“Y-Yeah, I’ll see you then. Could you text me your address and what time I should be there?” You ask, also gathering your lecture notes and laptop.

“Sure thing, Y/N. Bye.” He waves, leaving. As soon as he steps out, you hear the clicking of heels against the laminate flooring.

“Why was Bucky in here?” Natasha’s gravelly voice asks, looking confused as ever.

“He just brought me a croissant, we were talking about our lesson plan for next week.” You explain to her. “Walk with me to my lecture?” You ask, pointing out the door.

“Sure,” she agrees, waiting for you to lock the door, “so, have things been... civil between you two?” Natasha asks tentatively.

“Actually, yes. He’s not all that bad. I’m going to his place after classes to work on the lesson plan, he asked me yesterday to even bring Lucy over so she could meet Alpine.” You tell her.

“Oh- wow, really? He’s being so... nice to you...” She responds.

“I-I know... I don’t understand why... He made it clear he doesn’t really enjoy my company.” You respond.

“Yeah... Well, this is new. I hope he keeps up with it.” She pats you on the shoulder as you reach the lecture hall.

“Yeah, me too.” You say, turning to her before going in.

“Hey, can I stop by your office for something at lunch?”

“Sure, see you then!” You tell her, setting up for your class.

Lunch time comes around, and Natasha was already waiting for you when you finished your class by lunchtime. You remembered James also asking to come by to eat with you and work, so you tried to make it quick with Natasha.

“So, you and Bruce already finished your lesson plans?” You ask, looking for a booklet she needed.

“Yeah, he’s fun to work with. Kinda a nerd, but he knows his shit.” She says, smiling and leaning against your desk. “Any reason you’re in a rush?” She asks, catching you off guard.

“Oh, uh, James is coming to eat here so we can get ahead on the lesson.” You tell her, looking back through your drawer.

“That’s... interesting.” Natasha’s brows were drawn together. “You two seem to have a lot of time allotted together.”

“Well, we have only a little of our lessons done, and we really don’t want to show up unprepared. You know how much I hate that.” You tell her, finally finding what she needed.

Outside your office, James was just about to walk in when he heard your voices.

“Yeah... Just wondering, did he ever... apologize for what he said that one night?” Nat asks.

“Uhm, n-no. He’s been really kind to be as of late, so I’m assuming we’re turning a new leaf... But he makes me... nervous sometimes. Just a few days ago, he wouldn’t even look at my lesson plan ideas. He looked like he would rather violently bash his skull in than work with me. I’m just- I’m confused. What made him change his mind?” You think out loud, really wondering if James’ behavior was genuine.

“Y/N, I know you’ve been through a lot, but I think you should give him a chance. Don’t be so weary. If he’s being nice, don’t question it. I don’t know why he was like that with you from the beginning, but you shouldn’t have to beat yourself up over the fact that he’s actually treating you with respect.” Natasha puts her hand over yours, meeting your gaze.

“Y-Yeah. I know. I know I deserve respect, but it’s been hard lately. Ever since my family stopped talking to me, I feel like a failure. They don’t understand that I deserve that respect either. They think teaching is a shit job, they think I won’t get anywhere in life with it. I’m just sick and tired of them acting like I didn’t work hard to get where I am today.”

I talked to my brother the other day, and he said the same thing they’ve been saying since I started my PhD. ‘You’re not gonna get anywhere with this, you should get a boyfriend, we want grandkids.’ Like, okay! I get it! But where the hell am I supposed to find a guy when the cute one doesn’t even like me!? And my last boyfriend was in my undergrad. I feel a like teenager. I have literally no romantic life.” You huff out, absolutely tired of this.

“I- Y/N, I’m so sorry. You deserve a family that’s supportive of you and your passions. I hope Wanda and Carol and I have maybe helped you, kind of like a work family, y’know?” She holds your hand tighter. “We’ll always be here for you.”

You smile, walking around your desk to hug her.

“Thank you, Nat. I appreciate you all so much. I don’t think you’ll ever really know.” You hug her tightly before letting go. “James should be here any minute now, but we’ll talk more after class?”

“You betcha, but don’t think I forgot what you said... Maybe he does like you.” She says, and your face turns beet red.

“Natasha, no. I think he’s made it very clear he’s not into me. Like, at all. I’m surprised we’re even working together. I didn’t think he would cooperate.” You laugh. “Okay, seriously, you gotta go. I don’t want him to walk in on us talking about him.”

“Okay, okay, talk later. Bye, Y/N.” She says, making her way out, and Bucky pushes himself against the wall, hoping she wouldn’t see him.

“Don’t forget what we talked about, yeah?” She says to him, not even looking back. Natasha only stops when she doesn’t hear his response, turning around. “Listen to me, Bucky. We may be friends, but so are Y/N and I. I don’t know if it was me or Steve who finally knocked some sense into the dumb head of yours, but if she comes to me again, crying, telling me she can’t take it from you anymore, I promise; you’ll be off this faculty faster than you can say ‘tenure.’ Now, am I understood, Barnes?” Natasha concludes, completely in Bucky’s personal space.

“I- yes. I understand.” He gulps, looking down at his hands. “I-I’ve been trying. To be nice to her. I know what I did before was wrong, but I’m trying, okay? Steve and I had a... a long talk.”

“Yeah, whatever. This better not just be a one-time-thing. From here on out, I want no complaints from her. She’s been through enough shit, and she doesn’t need any more from you. I have somewhere to be, and so do you.” Natasha says, parting ways and letting Bucky release a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

He composes himself one last time, and walks into your office.

“Hi, James.” You give him a soft smile, “Take a seat, we’ve got work to do.”

When your last lecture finished, you made your way home to get what you needed to head to James’ apartment. He’d texted you the address and told you you could come by any time after 6:30.

You were thinking back on your lunch break with him. He was quiet, almost nervous to be sitting in front of you, and you couldn’t understand for the life of you why.

It was uncharacteristic of him to be so demure, and you wonder why he was suddenly so shy. Before, he wouldn’t have hesitated to make a remark, or take a jab at you. But now, he was quiet as a mouse.

It was concerning, to say the least.

So, on your way to his apartment, which was a solid 15 minutes drive, you call Natasha for advice.

“Hey. Can I talk to you about something?” You ask while you drive.

“Yeah, everything alright?” Natasha’s voice filters through your car’s speakers.

“Oh, I’m fine, but did something happen with James? He was acting so... odd today... He was so quiet, so nice. His behavior has been so different lately.” Your brows were furrowed, genuinely trying to crack this puzzle.

“Uh... well, isn’t it a good thing?” She asks.

“I mean, yes, but did someone say something to him?” You ask, puzzled.

“Uh, no...” lie, “maybe he’s just turning over a new leaf, Y/N. I think you should stop worrying yourself over it so much. And if you really want answers, just confront him about it.” Natasha concludes.

“...Okay. You’re right. I think I’m just reading too much into this. I need to go, I’m almost there. Thanks, Nat.” You tell her.

“Bye, Y/N. Good luck.” And the line goes dead.

“Looks like it’s just me and you now, Luce.” You look over at her carrier in the seat next to yours, where she’s curled up into a ball inside.

Once you park and text James to let him know you’re on your way up, you sling your laptop bag over your shoulder and grab Lucy’s carrier.

As you make your way inside, you stop at the concierge desk, where an older man with grey hair and glasses greets you. His name tag reads Stan.

“Hi, I’m here to see James Barnes?” You tell him, looking at the grandiosity of the lobby.

“Ah, yes, Ms. Y/L/N?” He asks, and you nod. “He said he was expecting you. Not that I don’t trust you, but I just need a form of ID before I can let you up.” You nod again, handing over you driver’s license.

He hands it back, giving an approving nod.

“Elevators are to the right, he’s in 12B.” Stan tells him, and you give him appreciative ‘thank you’ before you scurry to the elevator.

When you knock on his door, it takes a second for him to open it, a faint ‘Al, one second!’ resonating through the door, making you snort out a laugh.

“Hey, sorry about that. Come in,” Bucky finally appears, swinging his door wide open.

You walk in, setting down Lucy and taking your shoes off.

“So, is Alpine friendly with other cats?” You ask, weary of unzipping the carrier.

“Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be?” He asks, but stops when he sees your expression fall.

“S-Sorry, I wasn’t trying to imply anything, It’s just- Lucy’s a bit shy, but she typically likes other cats.” You say, looking down at her.

“I-I’m sorry- that was rude. I wasn’t trying to sound like an ass, I swear. Alpine’s friendly with other cats, but he needs a little time to warm up to other people. Don’t take it personally if he isn’t too fond of you at first.” He laughs, directing you to his couch where Alpine was perched.

“Oh, hi baby!” You coo, holding out your hand to Alpine. He tentatively inspects you with his eyes, first, and then sniffs you. He then, his head buts against your hand, asking for affection.

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up, shocked at how friendly Alpine was being. He barely even looked at Steve and Sam when they come by. But here he was, purring and shoving himself against you.

“Well, I think Lucy won’t have a problem with him at all.” You smile, bringing the carrier over to the end of the couch and unzipping it, letting Lucy move at her own pace.

At first, she just wearily looks at Alpine and the unfamiliar setting. She then looks at you, where you encouragingly coo at her, making sure she was comfortable.

Bucky gazes at the whole scene with a soft look, watching as Lucy slowly saunters out of the carrier, sniffing Alpine and the couch. Soon enough, Alpine sniffs back, and they start playing with each other, forgetting their owners completely.

You both laugh at how well they were getting along, and the contrast between the black and white furs making it that much better.

“Well, should we get started?” You ask, finally turning to Bucky with a big smile.

In that moment, his throat goes dry, and all he can think is... She has a beautiful smile.

“James? Everything alright?” You ask, breaking him out of his trance.

“I- Yes! Sorry, got distracted for a minute... Would you prefer Italian or Chinese for dinner?” He asks, shaking his head and trying to change the subject.

“Uhm, I don’t mind, whatever you’d like.” You smile, grabbing your laptop.

“So... Italian, then?” He asks with a light laugh.

“Sure.” You answer. “Where can we sit to work?”

“Oh, the table’s fine, we can eat while we work, too. Let me go order really quick.” He excuses himself after pointing to his dining table, and heading into the kitchen.

When Bucky reaches the kitchen, he takes a second to compose himself. He pinches in between his brows, his eyes squeezed shut. He didn’t know why he was acting like a teenager, he felt himself get flustered around you.

After he pulls himself together, he orders the food and comes back outside, finding you focused on something extremely intently on your screen.

“James, what do you think for something like this for a more interactive activity?” You ask, turning your computer to him, waiting for him to read the plan, biting your lip nervously.

“This- this is awesome, doll. This looks really good, the students would love this.” He tells you, reading over it one more time.

“O-Oh, thanks.” You thank him shyly, stomach fluttering while looking down at your lap again.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings, breaking the silence.

“Oh, the food-” James moves to grab his wallet, but you grab his wrist, stopping him.

“James, you’ve already been so hospitable, let me get it-” You say, but he shakes off your hand and shakes his head.

“No, I can’t let you do that, I insist,” he responds, beating you to the door and handing the delivery man his card, letting him ring it up quickly.

You huff, sitting back down in your spot with a pout.

“James, you suck,” you huff, visibly annoyed. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, I did. Now, let’s eat. You good with red wine?” He asks, pulling out two wine glasses.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You say, unpacking the food as he pours some wine.

As he sets down some plates, he sees your expression still pouty, like a child.

“Y/N, stop pouting.” You look so cute. “You can get it next time.” I wish I could kiss you.

“Oh, there’s gonna be a next time?” You ask, your face turning red yet again.

“I mean, we’re going to have to make more lesson plans, depending on how long Fury keeps this up.” He laughs, but you freeze at his words.

It’s true, you think to yourself, we’re probably going back to how it was before when this is all over. That’s probably why he’s being nice to me.

“Hey, you alright? Did I say something?” James asks, a concerned look on his face.

“N-No, you’re good. Sorry. Ready to eat?” You ask, changing the subject.

“Yeah... You sure everything’s okay?” He asks again, trying to make sure.

“James, everything is okay, please. Let’s just eat.” You smile, placing a hand over his in reassurement.

Dinner was delicious, and now you and James were sipping on wine while working, occasionally checking on Lucy and Alpine.

“Hey, do you think a group project could work? I usually give some to my students, I have a template I follow, but you could change it to your liking-” James tells you, but you cut him off with your thoughts.

“James, can I ask you a question?” You ask, hovering a hand over his.

“S-Sure. What’s up?” He sounds weary.

“You know, before we started this project, you like... loathed me.” You say. “Why?” Your voice breaks at that last word, barely getting it out of your throat.

“I... I just-” He takes a deep breath and looks down, grabbing your hand, “I thought you were... snobby, stuck up. I thought you came to this school thinking you were better than everyone else, that you were here to one-up us all.”

And before you could cut him to deny it with your shaking head, he continues.

“And I know now that I was wrong. I-I’m so sorry for the way I spoke to you, especially at the bar. After you left and Steve took me home, he basically yelled at me and told me how what I thought of you was completely off. I shouldn’t have assumed all those things about you, and I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me, one day.” He concludes, holding onto your hand so tightly to convey just how sorry he was.

“I- Oh, James. Y-You know, I never meant to come off that way. I just- I’ve always had trouble making friends and talking to people, and things have been hard recently. I never meant to make you o-or anyone else, for that matter, to feel that way. I’m so sorry.” You say, tears prickling behind your eyes.

“Y/N, doll.” James moves out of his seat, wrapping you in his arms. “I can’t even tell you how much I wish I was more open-minded, more patient. Ever since Steve and Nat have talked to me, I’ve been just-”

“Nat? What has Natasha told you?” You stop him, pulling away.

“She- she just told me to stop. She told me you’ve been going through a lot, and that I wasn’t making it any better for you so-”

“Did she say what? Why would she tell you about my personal life-” You begin to ramble and waving your hands around.

“Doll, no she didn’t-”

“She had no right to say-”

But before you could continue, Bucky cuts you off.

With his lips.

Against yours.

Bucky was kissing you.

Oh my god, he’s kissing me!

You pull away looking at him in utter shock.

“Wh- What did you do that for?”

“I just- You were rambling, but I didn’t know how else to stop you.” James says, a blush creeping up his neck.

“So you kissed me?” You ask incredulously.

“Uh- yes?” He says, more like asks.

“I uh... I have to go.” You say, looking anywhere but his eyes as you gather your items, hunting down Lucy and putting her in her carrier; much to her protest and distaste.

“Y-Y/N, please, don’t go. Let’s just talk!” James pleads, but you’re not listening.

“N-No, I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll see you in class next week. Bye, James.” You huff out, running to the nearest stairwell.

A part of you wanted him to run after you, but you needed time to process... whatever that was.

Did he kiss you because he liked you? Or because he wanted to shut you up?

You cut the drive home into half, the first thing you do after getting through your door is calling Natasha.

“Nat, I fucked up...” Your voice was weak through the phone.

And back in Bucky’s apartment, he dialed Steve’s number.

“Steve, I fucked up... real bad.” He meekly provides, his head in his hands.

a/n: oh boy. what’s gonna happen ??? hmmm... let me know down below! hope you guys enjoyed ;)

also, did y’all peep my stan lee cameo? :)

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes series #prof!bucky #professor!bucky #prof!bucky x prof!reader #college professor au #enemies to lovers #bucky and alpine #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff

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riacte · 4 years

Text

Happy Birthday to HC7!

Wow man, I can’t believe it’s an actual year... so I’mma go off the tangent for a bit.

I’ve been following HC since May 2019, but I only watched Grian (and eventually Ren) in HC6, so when HC7 started, I was excited to branch out. Unfortunately I couldn’t watch as many episodes as I like but still, I feel like I’ve known a lot more about the hermits and their projects this season!

The beginnings of HC7 always gives me good vibes. It’s just so... humble. Magical. Exciting. The hermits are stripped off their elytras and rockets and gear and shulker boxes and they have to start from the beginning, in the old-school way. And you get to see them do all their crazy grinds and builds from the very start, when they had nothing but determination and motivation.

I was also really proud of how the hermits grew MASSIVELY in the beginnings of HC7, especially Scar and Iskall. I was ecstatic to see more hermits reach 1mil subscribers, because they deserve that and so much more. HC fandom was also growing exponentially, with many fancontent made of wizard Scar and Pesky Bird and Bumbo Baggins and the infamous Doc-Bdubs divide (I mean, they’re the popular creators, but it still makes me super happy and gives out the GoodVibes). I remember staying up till 3am, totally engrossed in HC fanfic.

I know for y’all in the Western world, HC7 starts with quarantine and Covid, but since I’m in Asia, Covid has already been going on for like two months when HC7 began. The hermits provided a lot of comfort for me when I was sad or just bored. Like... the world is changing, but Hermitcraft is still there, as cheesy as it sounds.

I remember the night the HC7 E1 episodes were uploaded, I was vibrating with excitement. I was telling my friends to watch them. I had no idea who to watch first but I remember I clicked Impulse. I stayed up past 12am and I think I watched most of Doc’s episode and wondered why tf did I stick to Grian when there’s so much more out there.

Gradually more episodes came out, including those of my faves Grian, Scar, and Ren. And I was super mega happy to see Grian and Scar be neighbours because that’s all I wanted in S6, actually. A proper collab between those two crazy builders and cat lovers with chest monsters. And I was beyond excited to see that practically everyone I watched at that time (Grian, Mumbo, Scar, Stress, Iskall) lived in the same jungle. (Ren was the exception but he later moved in and I kinda lost it).

Early HC7 Jungle Gang and their builds have a very special place in my heart just because it’s so hopeful and funny and full of possibilities. I loved watching Grian annoy Mumbo, I loved every bit of Scar’s magical village, I loved Iskall bringing a brown panda to Stress’ place as a gift. Bdubs VS Doc was also extremely entertaining, and I still laugh over how cute BeeDoubleO is. And Ren! Ren’s Loser Island was so quaint and charming and cute and I’m so sad he blew it up lol. Something about his starter base just gets me. I even modified my survival starter base after his.

And the streams! The stream weekends! I was never into watching streams but HC7 convinced me. The hermits saw that we liked them, and kept on making them. I don’t remember a lot about the streams, but I do remember popping into Ren’s late at night, and he talked about living alone and the pandemic and how this Minecraft stream united people from all over the world, and he started listing out the countries people wrote down in chat, and I just started crying. It sounds stupid and parasocial, but fuck man, I really love the hermits.

I remember when there was a time Ren uploaded at 12am Saturday for me, so when I had a rough week, I would tuck myself into bed and refresh my feed until I saw Ren’s new weekly episode. (Ren’s my comfort YouTuber.) It was like... a habit of me, like when I felt bad I would be like “at least there’s gonna be a new Rendog episode by the end of this horrible week :D”. And that made me happy.

And then it sort of became a habit... I watched different hermits according to my moods. Whenever I felt more attentive, I watched Grian. Tired and bored? Stress. Wanted to calm down? Xisuma. Wanted to laugh? Bdubs. And when I just wanted some comfort? Ren.

Hermitcraft and its community has given me a lot of joy. I would go longer about how I met friends etc etc but I started being active because of Blue Bats lmao, and that’s a different story.

Just wanna send the hermits and the community some love <33 sorry this got so long lol, I really am very nostalgic haha.

To me, there really is something magical about Hermitcraft, and I don’t fully understand it, but maybe that’s the beauty of it.

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #ria.txt #I am Emotional #I miss early HC7 so much #the vibes.... immaculate #kudos to you if you read the whole thing lol #you can clearly see my bias for Ren shine thru #personal

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mountainsluna · 4 years

Text

children’s books

pairing: witch!wooyoung + witch!reader (as best friends)

genre: humor/supernatural

word count: 1.4k

✩ [author’s note] feel free to send in requests for my witch!wooyoung au! along with any others! i have a couple of stories planned for this, but i’m always open to requests :)

✩ masterlist

✩ requests : check bio or masterlist ♡

“Mother she’s eight years old and more than capable of staying home alone!” Wooyoung complained into his phone at his mother’s request for him to babysit his little sister for the night. “Just throw on some cartoons and fill her with snacks! That’s all I’m gonna do anyways!”

“Ugh, fine!” Wooyoung ended the call, sighing loudly in frustration. “Well there goes my Saturday night.”

“All you were planning to do was binge watch how i met your mother and get drunk on my couch.” You accused, knowing all too well how the boy’s weekends went.

“Yeah and now my plans are ruined.” He sighed getting up from your bed as he walked over to you at your desk. “Looks like you’ll have to get drunk without me.” He sniffled, wiping a non-existent tear from his eye.

“Yeah I’ll try not to miss you too much.” Giving him a fake pout as he patted your shoulder. Vanishing from your side as he left to get ready for his babysitting duties.

Wooyoung showed up at his family’s house around 7pm, unlocking the door with a flick of his wrist, the thought of knocking not even entering his mind. “Family! I have arrived!” He announced, closing the door behind him. He made his way to the sofa, ruffling his sister’s hair who was mindlessly staring at the tv.

“Wooyoung in here!” His mother called from the kitchen.

“Oooh someone looks fancy!” Wooyoung commented, his mother dressed to the nines in a long ball gown and sparkly jewelry.

“Why thank you.” She made her way to the fridge, showing the dinner and bedtime snacks she had prepared for him and his sibling, instructing him not to feed her any sweets or he’ll never get her to sleep.

“I know I know and have her in bed by 9.” He reassured her, putting his mother’s worries to rest. He saw her struggling to close her earring, waving his finger to clasp it for her.

A sigh of relief leaving her as she heard the click of it closing. “Thanks.” She placed a quick kiss on his cheek as she brushed passed him towards the living room. “We should be home by 10, 11 the latest, okay?”

He hummed in response, taking a bag of chips from the pantry as he watched his father enter the room, adjusting the cuff links on his dress shirt. “Don’t wait up though.” he added. “And no magic.” He said sternly, waving a finger at his son from across the room.

“Yeah yeah no magic.” He says as he mindlessly hovered the bag of chips next to him. His father coming over to grab the bag, setting it on the table, startling Wooyoung. “Ah....no more magic.” Smiling sheepishly, earning a glare from the taller man before he made his way to the door.

“Call us if you need anything!” His mother called from the porch, the door closing before he could reply.

The next two hours went by swiftly. He sat his sister down for dinner, joking and playing around with her afterwards, hoping to tire her out before putting her to bed.

But maybe he snuck some cookies as she had her bedtime snack and maybe he had to give her a few as well, when she noticed him. Wooyoung knew his parents would kill him if they got home and his sister was still awake. So he slipped the tiniest bit of a sleep spell onto the cookies. It was the smallest dose, one even his own mother would use on her when she was a baby.

Once 9pm rolled around he settled her into bed, tucking her in before saying good night.

“Wooyoungie, wait!” She called out. “I’m not sleepy! Read me a story.” Wooyoung placed his hands on his hips, walking to her book shelf to pick something out.

“You like Dr. Seuss?” He asked, when she nodded, he pulled out a book titled What Pet Should I Get?

He settled next to her on her bed, leaning against the headboard as he read it aloud. “I saw a fine dog who shook hands. So we shook. So I said...”

“I want him!” His sister chimed.

“Kay saw a cat. She gave it a pat and said...”

“I want THAT!” Wooyoung read the rest of the story and as he got to the end he noticed she was fast asleep. He snuck his way off the bed and back into the living room to wait for his parents arrival.

He was scrolling through his phone with the tv as background noise when he heard a faint barking sound coming from upstairs. Thinking it was his imagination he looked back at the screen, until he heard a bird singing a cartoonish tune from the same direction accompanied by a mix of other sounds.

He hesitantly made his way up, the noises growing louder the closer he got. As he reached the top step he was met with a hallway full of animals and creatures from the book he had just finished reading to his sister. “Oh no...” He silently made his way back downstairs to call you.

“Can I help you?” You answered sarcastically.

“I’m glad you asked, I need you here asap! I have a magic emergency!” He whispered frantically into the phone not wanting to attract the attention from the creatures above.

“Uhm it’ll take me awhile to get ready so-”

“Unacceptable.” He interrupted, snapping his fingers as you appeared in front of him, your hair in a messy bun, a bright green face mask adorning your face. “Ugh you couldn’t have cleaned up a bit?”

“Wooyoung I swear!”

“Shhh!!!! Keep your voice down!” He explained to you what was going on as you washed off your face at his kitchen sink.

“So you casted a sleeping spell on your sister and now you want me to help wake her up?”

“Yes! But I think she conjured these things up in her dreams or maybe even while I was reading to her! I need you to help me reverse it.”

“Well then, we need to get to the book you read to her.” You said drying off your face.

“Good luck getting past that stampede.” He scoffed, crossing his arms in front of him.

You narrowed your eyes at him in amusement, “Oh I think I have an idea.” Placing your hand on his shoulder, teleporting you both into his sister’s room.

“I...Well see....Ugh nevermind! Let me find the book.” You chuckled at him as he searched for it. Your eyes scanned over his sleeping sister, noticing her soft smile and sleepy giggles. She was probably dreaming about the animals wreaking havoc in the house, thinking it was all just in her mind. “Okay I got it!”

“Alright let’s just reread it but change up the words a bit.” You flipped though the pages, mulling over the wording. “Instead of saying I want these pets, you’re gonna say I don’t want them. Got it?”

Wooyoung nodded, hovering the book between you as you two placed your hands over his sister’s sleeping form. A soft purple glow, emitting from your palms onto her. You read through the book, Wooyoung chiming in at his parts. You heard the noises slowly begin to subside from the other side of the door. After the last few words, the house was completely quite, his sister slowly stirring awake as well. The book dropped to the ground as she rubbed her eyes, trying to focus as you stood in front of her. “Y/n? Is that you?”

Wooyoung moved to the door, opening it slowly, peering into the hallway to make sure everything was back to normal. “I just came to pick up your brother. Everything’s fine sweetie you can go back to sleep.” Without another word she laid back down, drifting off quicker than you expected.

As you both exited the room, the sound of Wooyoung’s parents entering the house rang up the stairs. “Wooyoung, we’re home!” You both scurried down the stairs, meeting them at the doorway. “Oh, Y/n? I didn’t know you were here! It’s nice to see you, I’m not surprised Wooyoung needed help putting her to sleep.”

Not wanting to be in the house any longer, Wooyound slid passed his father with you in tow. “Well we better get going! I’ll call you tomorrow, mother. Good night!” He said placing a quick kiss on her cheek. You waved your goodbyes sheepishly as he closed the door behind you two. Letting out the biggest sigh of relief. “Thank the heavens that’s over with.”

“People need to watch they way they write these children’s books. They’re a lot more dangerous than they look.” You said, reflipping through the pages before making it vanish into thin air.

Wooyoung shrugged his shoulders, raising his eyebrows. “Who knows...maybe my sister’s a witch too.”

#ateez #witch wooyoung series #witch!wooyoung #jung wooyoung #wooyoung #wooyoung fluff #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez crack #san #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #mingi #jongho #supernatural #witch au

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kookoosbunnynose · 5 years

Text

Ch.1 || Ch.2

Pairing: Neighbor!Jungkook/FWB!Jungkook x Artist!Reader

Genre: Slowburn, Smut, Angst, Humor

Word Count: 11.4k

Summary: You’re an art student in need of a partner for your new collaboration piece, who is there to help you but your new neighbor, Jeon Jungkook. You two paint together but leave with much more than a colorful canvas.

A/N: Hello! I know! Dumb bitch finally updated the fic lmao. but i’m really excited about this part and even more excited for the rest of the fic. If you haven’t read chapter 1 yet go read it!

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

Thankfully, even though you didn’t get to bed by the time you wanted last night, after the whole ‘y/n is a dumbass and got locked out’ debacle, you woke up with enough time to take it slow this morning. Mornings like these were your favorite, no rush. Just you sitting at your vanity getting ready for your day, jamming along to whatever song comes on your shuffle, using various items as a makeshift microphone.

You’re in the heat of Colors by Halsey when there’s a knock at your door, you abruptly cut off your poorly tuned melody, feeling caught. You quickly finish the eyebrow you’re working on as you don’t want the person at the door to see you with the one and a half you’re currently sporting. Good enough.

You rush to your front door, careful not to let your fluffy socks make you slip on the linoleum. When you open the door only to be greeted by your fluffy haired neighbor. He looks good in the morning too? Well that’s just fucking peachy. You’re making this difficult Jeon.

“Good morning.” You smile trying to hide how distraught you are.

“Good morning, sorry to bug you” he smiles sheepishly. “I was just hoping I could steal an egg from you? We’re out.” He asks hopeful.

“Oh, yeah of course. Just a second.” You turn on your heels to grab an egg from the kitchen. When your face is hidden by the fridge door you take a second to take a deep breath before making your way back to him. “Just one?” You ask when you hand it to him.

“Yeah one’s good, thank you y/n.” He gives you a small bow and opens his door. “See you later.”

---

“Hello gorgeous.” Yoongi says as your trio approaches the counter.

“Morning handsome.” Jimin smirks and steps in front of you.

“I was talking to y/n.”

“Her?” He looks over his shoulder at you. “While I’m here? That doesn’t sound right.” He scrunches his nose as if he’s doing mental math.

“I’ll just get your usual started.” He says leaning to the side so he can see your face.

“Thank you.” You laugh at them swipe your card and take the blueberry muffin he slides your way. You step to the side and wait for your boys to order their drinks.

“Remind me why we still come here.” Joon asks the two of you as you make your way to the pick-up end of the counter.

“Because we’ve been doing it since we started uni. We’re old and stuck in our ways, Joonie. There’s no backing out now.” You reply woefully.

“What are we? Boomers? We can go to a different coffee shop.” Namjoon furrows his brows.

“Order for Sweets!” A now familiar boxy smiled boy behind the counter says.

“Oh no we can’t. Not anymore.” Jimin says his attention caught by Tae.

“Look who wants to fuck the neighbors now!” You whisper yell at them before stepping toward the counter.

“Ha! You admit it!- Wait, neighbor?” You hear Jimin behind you.

“Hi Tae! Thank you.”

“Hello y/n!” He smiles and leans in to make his voice hushed. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you and Yoongi a thing? He covers like half your bill and calls you pet names everyday.” He lists off the, admittedly odd, circumstances of your relationship.

“Oh, no we’re not. We just flirt back and forth. I think if he had any real intention behind it he would’ve asked me out by now, in my experience he’s pretty straight forward.” You chuckle.

“Ah okay. Would you want him to ask you out?”

“I did in the beginning but it’s been well over a year. As far as he goes, I’m sated with just the flirting.”

“Ah, I see.” He turns away to grab the next two cups. “Orders for Jimin and Namjoon!” He calls over.

“Why do you ask?”

He pauses for a second. “I was just curious, he’s kinda like that with a couple girls but you seem to be his favorite.”

“Well it’s been a while, seniority I guess.” You shrug and your counterparts join you at the counter. “Oh how rude of me, these are my roommates. This is Taehyung.”

“Ah, nice to meet you, I’ll probably be seeing you guys a lot. I’m across the hall pretty often.” You all chuckle. “I wish I could talk longer but I don’t want to hold up the line, see you!” He smiles.

The three of you give various forms of a goodbye as you leave to find your usual table.

“Okay, is no one gonna say it?” Jimin says once you’re seated and safely out of ear shot.

“Say what?” Namjoon asks scrunching his face at his hot coffee.

“What do you mean ‘say what?’” Jimin says blinking slowly at your brother. “What is in those boys’ cheerios?”

“Fiber?”

“No! You fucking tree!”

“Y/n really? Now he’s calling me that, too?” You shrug.

---

You take a breath in as you walk into the art studio, the smell of paint and pencil lead tickling your nose. You take your usual seat at a large table and check your phone for your list of assignments. The professor sends you a large list of all the assignments at the beginning of the semester. Giving students the freedom to choose what order they do them in, the only stipulation is that you must have half turned in by midterms and the other half by the end of the semester. A much more doable lesson plan than a lot of your past professors. Being forced to be creative is draining and doesn’t get you far.

You scan down the list of possibilities until you find one that catches your eye. Monochromatic self portrait (any color)? No. Pretend you have synesthesia and illustrate your favorite song? Eh, not today. Collaboration piece? Ugh, I can’t even if I wanted to. I need to find someone to work with. Create 5 random custom colors and paint a landscape using only those colors (5”x5”)? Sounds like I could get that done before I leave. Perfect.

You pop in your earbuds and get to work. Deciding acrylic would be best for a quick painting, you grab a pallet and a sizable glob of each of the primary colors along with black and white. A little red here, a little yellow there, and some white for this one. You continue putting in different combinations until you have five colors you’re happy with not worrying if they’ll make sense for scenery. Fuck it. Who says trees can’t be purple?

As you dip your brush into your small selection of paints and watch the way the colors glide onto the canvas, it makes a sense of ease wash over you. Breathing life into a piece no matter how simple creates a new little reality in it’s own right. Expands our universe one brush stroke at a time. In the least cringy art kid way possible, of course.

You continue your work, mouthing along to your music as you go. Rust tinted grass and a peachy sky coming together in a way that definitely isn’t realism but ends up having a sunset feel due to the warm hues you chose. Just a few touch ups here and there and you’re done.

You pack up your things and head home with your new little creation to dry completely overnight. It’s already mostly dry but the textured parts still have a way to go.

---

“I really need to go grocery shopping. Thank you again, y/n.” Bunny teeth shining as he leaves your apartment with a mug of tea in place of the hot water he showed up with.

Today is day… eight? Of a new routine has developed over the course of the week. Everyday without fail, whether it be morning or evening, an egg or a cup of milk. Jungkook comes over and asks for a small food item, thanks you, and returns home. No big deal, but it’s apparent that those idiots really need to restock their fridge. It’s like having a stray cat that comes around every night after you feed it once. A really big stray cat… with pretty hair, and a cute lip mole, that always smells like fresh laundry and citrus… anyway-

Time to officially start the day and pretend that little mental tangent didn’t just happen. Go team!

You finish doing some light makeup and throw on some ripped mom jeans and a black hoodie. Enough effort to look like you care, but still comfy. You throw your bag over your shoulder, slip your boots on and head out the door.

Finding parking on campus at this time of day is a nightmare and usually takes longer than just walking since you live just off school grounds. So you make your short walk and stop by the cafe by yourself. You usually go alone only once a week; there’s only one day where you’re the only one of your roomies to have a morning class.

You order, give Tae his morning hello and make your way to class.

Classes pass with relative ease. You listen and take notes; taking notes more so meaning doodling along the margins of your notebook than anything else. Really putting those scholarships to good use.

Art history, meeting with the theater department about painting props, studio, home.

You enter your apartment and are met with Jimin and Namjoon sitting on the couch about to start the obligatory bi-monthy screening of Your Name.

“Hey! Were you gonna start the movie without me?” You kick off your shoes and take a running leap onto your spot on the couch.

“No! We were waiting for you, we’re not monsters.” Namjoon retorts in defense.

“That’s exactly what someone who wasn’t waiting for me would say.” You narrow your eyes at your little brother at the other end of the couch.

“Would you two stop bickering for two seconds. It’s starting.” Jimin puts a hand over both your mouths from his spot between you.

“Sheesh, grumpy pants.” You grumble when he lowers his arms.

The movie is filled with the same sobs and ‘awe’s that it always is, always ending in tears for at least one of you. Breathtaking animation coupled with a heart wrenching story, no matter how many times you watch it, it never fails to amaze. As much as you would’ve loved more closure at the end of the movie, the ambiguous ending couldn’t be more poetic.

“Joonie, what would you do if we switched bodies?” You turn to your brother as the credits roll.

“Probably get a discounted coffee.” He deadpans.

“Oh, you’re no fun!”

“More money in my bank account sounds very fun.”

Your retort cut off by a knock at the door from your neighbor for his daily snack, so you settle for throwing the pillow sitting in your lap in his direction as you stand. Which he tries to swat away only to end up with a faceful of cushion. Ha, get got bitch.

“Do you need an egg?” You say as you open the door.

“Uh- No I’m good? Thank you for asking.” Tae chuckles, you freeze your eyes widening.

“Oh my god, I thought you were Jungkook.” You let out a stiff laugh and shuffle your feet in embarrassment. “Anyway, what brings you all this way?” You joke, attempting to alleviate a bit of the blush on your cheeks.

“I just wanted to see if you’d wanna chill with us tonight? We had a lot of fun last time. Nothing special, but I wanted to see if you were up for it.” He smiles. “You guys are more than welcome to join too if you’d like!” He shouts over your shoulder at the boys sitting on the couch when he notices them sitting there.

“Nah we’re good Jimin and I have a test in the morning, and if I don’t force him to study with me he’ll fail.” Namjoon says from the couch

“I would not!” Jimin turns to him offended.

“Okay, I’ll study alone then.”

“No, please help me.” He deflates.

“See.” Joon smirks. “Thank you for the offer though!” He calls over to Tae.

“No problem, next time?”

“Next time.” He echoes.

“I’ll hold you to it.” He points a slender finger in your brother’s direction. “What about you, y/n? Are you down?” He directs his attention back to you.

“Right now?”

“If that works for you, Kook will be back from work shortly, it’ll just be Hobi and I for a little bit.”

“Yeah, sounds good to me.” You smile. “Just let me go grab a couple things real quick and then I’m good to go!”

You scurry to your bedroom and take a look at yourself in the mirror, evaluating the damage the day has done to your makeup. Not bad. You give the apples of your cheeks a quick squeeze to bring back a little color, scramble to find your tinted lip balm, and fluff up your hair a little. There we go. Cute. Now to find something to bring with me so this little panicked face check isn’t a complete lie. Phone charger is good.

With your phone charger in hand and a revived complexion you head back out.

“Thanks for waiting.” Tae gives you a nod and you smile while you give your boys a wave as you walk out the door.

You walk into the boys apartment and are immediately greeted by a wagging Bread who you kneel to give a plethora of loves, giggling when he hops up and tries to kiss your face.

“Hey y/n!”

“Hey Hobi!” You say as you follow Tae over to the couch with Bread right on your heels.

“Glad you decided to join us. Kook will be here soon, he left work not long ago.”

“I gave her the run down before we came over.” Tae smiles.

“How have classes and shit been?” You ask them

“Not ideal. I pulled a muscle in my leg.” Hobi rubs his calf. “With a big performance coming up on friday, but the show must go on, you know.” He shrugs.

“Oh shit dude, will you be okay?”

“He does this at least once a semester.” Tae says waving it off, used to his friend pushing through his injuries.

“Yeah, it sucks for a bit but I’ll have some wiggle room to rest after this test.” He reassures.

“Okay good, just don’t die.” You chuckle.

“I’ll try not to.” He laughs.

“I’ve been doing a few surveys for my psych classes, would you mind if I get some data from you?” Tae looks to you, taking full advantage of the small lull in conversation.

“Tae no.” Hobi’s face falls and he rubs his temples.

“Do you find Chuck E. Cheese fuckable?” He asks, a genuine question mark in his eyes.

You blink. “What the hell kind of psych classes are you taking?”

“Just answer the question, y/n.”

You look at Hobi for some sort of answer, though you’re not even sure what your question is. “You’re gonna have to just answer him, he’s been on about it all day.”

“Fucking of course not. Why on earth would I want to fuck a rat? And even if I did, why would I want to fuck a robotic rat roughly the size of an entire kindergarden class?”

“First of all, he’s a mouse.” Tae corrects. “Second of all, THANK YOU!” He throws his arms up and flops against the back of the couch. “One kid in my class started this somehow and the room was surprising split. About forty percent of the people in that room said ‘Charles Entertainment Cheese’ was sexy! It got pretty heated, people were yelling that the opposing side that we ‘just couldn't handle his raw sexual power.’” He says exasperated with overdone air quotes. “So I’ve been asking everyone all day because I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I suppose I can see how that would plague your mind.” You laugh.

“Anyway!” Hobi interjects, clearly tired of the subject. “How are your things going, y/n?”

You chuckle at his wide eyes. “They’ve been good. I’ve been spending more time in the studio with midterms coming up. But I need to find someone to work with me on a collab piece. I wanna have it in by midterms so I don’t have to worry about it during finals.” you sigh at the thought.

“Awh, I would help with that but I already did that assignment and I’m not sure if they’d let me do it again with someone else?” Tae says with a small frown.

“I’d offer but the only thing I am versed in is drawing stick figures and arguably anatomically incorrect dicks.” Hobi chuckles.

“Thanks you guys.” You smile. “It’s alright though, I might just ask Jimin to get drunk and throw some paint at a canvas with me.”

“Hey! This reminds me, a couple days ago when you got coffee you promised you’d show me some of your work when we hung out next.” Tae looks at you sternly, arms tight across his chest. “The time has come Miss y/n.”

“Ah, I suppose I did.” You say as you grab your phone to show him your album of a bunch of your work. “Okay, but I’m no Van Gogh. Go easy on me.” You warn before you hand over your device to him; you always get a little nervous when you show people your art for the first time.

“Hey hey! None of that nonsense! If the way you talk about art is any consolation, then I’m sure the passion alone is enough to make it beautiful.” Tae gives you a stern look followed by a reassuring smile.

“Do you want me to cry? Because this is how you make me cry.” You chuckle and relent your collection of work over to him for them to inspect.

They open the first photo and you’re met with a mixture of a ‘holy shit’ from Hobi and a ‘wow’ from Tae, their reactions make you smile and your face heat up.

“These are amazing y/n!” Hobi says as Tae swipes through.

“Thank you guys so much, really.” You say blushing and all but clutching your chest.

You watch their faces intently as they go through, Tae stopping every so often to zoom in and inspect a certain brushstroke that catches his eye. They get toward the end of the photoset when you hear a key in the front door. You’re the only one to turn your head to see Jungkook walk into the apartment. He sets his keys down on the table next to the entrance and his feet stutter a little when he sees you on the couch with his friends.

“Hey Kook! Y/n was just showing us some of her art, dude she’s so talented!” Hobi calls over his shoulder.

“It’s really good, you should come take a look.” Tae adds, and you laugh nervously.

“That’s so awesome, I will.” He says looking at you with a smile. “I just need to talk to Tae, for a quick second.” He says turning his gaze toward him and tilting his head toward the hall.

“Oh, is it about that thing?” Tae grits his teeth and sucks in sharp breath.

“Yes, exactly, the thing.” He confirms vaguely, looking relieved.

“Is everything okay?” You furrow your brows and look at each of them.

“He just has a rash, no worries.” Tae tells you in a hushed tone as he stands up. All you can do is blink in response. Jungkook lets out an exaggerated laugh as they disappear into the dark hallway and out of sight.

Once they are safely in the other room Jungkook flicks Tae in the forehead.

“Ow!” Tae gasps.

“What the fuck was that for?!” Jungkook whisper yells at his idiot of a best friend.

“I was covering for you!”

“You could’ve said literally anything else! I don’t even have a rash!”

“She doesn’t know that!”

“Exactly, you fuck!” Jungkook whispers flicking him again. “Why is she here?! You didn’t warn me!”

“This is what I get for trying to help you?” Tae says rubbing his forehead with a pout.

“Hey! I was handling it just fine on my own!”

“Oh yeah, your plan to slowly raid the entire contents of her fridge was going so great!”

“I just thought!... I thought we would eventually talk or... something?” Jungkook says realizing maybe it wasn’t the best plan in the world. “That’s how my parents used to get to know our neighbors, they’d borrow each others sugar and shit.”

“It’d be easier to talk to her if you just hung out with her and I invited her over for you. You’re welcome! And your parents weren’t trying to fuck your neighbors, were they! Different goal calls for different strategy.”

“Dude gross, I hope not.” Jungkook scrunches his nose. “And I don’t… just wanna fuck her.”

“Aww, does Googie have a bigger crush than we thought he did.” Tae teases pinching his cheek.

“Fuck you. But thanks I guess… just warn me next time, will you?” Jungkook relents.

“You got it.” Tae says patting him on the shoulder. “I’m only kinda sorry though!” He whispers as he slips out the door. Jungkook follows him to join all of you in the living room.

“Sorry about that.” Jungkook smiles at you as he and Tae take their places next to you on the couch.

“No worries.” You assure.

“Kook you should take a look at her work, I think you’d like it.” Hobi says passing your phone over to him and your face heats up a little. “I was just telling y/n how you were really artsy in high school.”

“Oh, it was nothing.” Jungkook waves him off as he starts to look through the photos and stopping a little longer on ones that catch his eye.

“It wasn’t nothing.” Tae interjects. “Actually y/n, you mentioned needing a partner for that collab piece? Since I can’t assist, I’m sure Jungkook could help you out.” Tae gestures to the two of you.

“Oh no, I couldn’t ask him to do that for me.” You shake your head, looking at both their faces.

Jungkook tilts his head to the side for a second. “I wouldn’t mind at all, it would be fun. I might be a little rusty though.” He says with worried eyes.

“Really? you wouldn’t mind?” You light up. “That would help me out a ton. I’ve been stressing over that piece for weeks.”

“I’d be happy to.” He smiles bright. “I’m off on Saturday, we could work on it then. If that works for you, of course.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” You reach out to shake his hand, effectively sealing the deal. “Thank you so much.” you say and squeeze his hand a little.

“So Kook, I’m collecting data for my psych class-” Tae takes this opportunity to stain your moment of gratitude.

“I already told you, I’m not fuckin’ rats!” Jungkook cuts him off.

“He’s not a rat!”

“Which side are you on?!”

---

“Did I call it? Or did I call it?” Jin looks at you with his stupid smug ass face.

“Listen! It’s nothing!” You throw that damp rag you’re wiping down a table with in his direction.

“It’s not nothing! I can smell your pent up sexual frustration for him from here. You guys are gonna be alone for several hours making art together? What is he, Swayze?”

“Men and women can be platonic friends! You’re not thinking very progressively here, old man.”

“Of course, men and women can be platonic friends.” He says gesturing at the air between you. “But you and what’s his fuck, Junglebook, you said? You two, cannot.”

“Your lack of faith in me is astounding.”

“I wouldn’t call it a lack of faith in you, more of an educated assumption… And a lack of faith in both of you.” He smirks. Asshole.

“Fuck you.” You deadpan.

“You know you love me y/nie.” He blows you a kiss.

“You’re lucky I do.”

---

You: I can bring the supplies over whenever you’re ready, just lemme know! Thank you for letting me come over there, it would be hard for creative juices flowing with Joon hovering over us all night. Trying to figure out a deep psychological reason for me painting a flower yellow lmao

You: Oh! And wear clothes you don’t mind getting paint on, stains are inevitable :)

And send.

Okay listen to me you dumb bitch. You can do this. We got this. For fuck sake why are you so nervous? Pull yourself together! Just enough to prove Jin and Jimin wrong. Do it just to rub it in their faces! Fuck. What are you 12? We can hang out alone with him. This is stupid. I’m stupid. It’s fine. Everything is fine! Shut up.

Tight Buns McCute-Dog: You can come over now, I’m just gonna change real quick, the door is unlocked! (:

After receiving that reply, instead of him just cancelling, you were relieved he was still willing to help you. However it didn’t help the whole sweating from your ass cheeks with nerves, thing. So overall about the same. Great.

Doing an abstract painting in these mental conditions will result in accidentally painting several phallic shapes. A Freudian Slip of the wrist if you will.

After a couple deep breaths, effectively shoving half your feelings deep into the crevices of your mind, and changing his contact name, just for good measure. You grab all the supplies you’ll need and walk across the hall.

You struggle to open your door while balancing your small box of acrylics, easel and canvas in your arms. Deciding to abandon your easel in the hall for a second while you knock on your neighbor’s door a couple times before you turn the knob.

Bread is already eager and yipping at you for attention while you attempt to bring everything in and set it up to the side of the living room adjacent to the kitchen.

---

Jungkook opens your texts and mouths a small ‘oh shit’ not wanting to keep you waiting, but quickly regretting his decision to work out right before he saw you. He wanted to look a little extra muscley but didn’t consider that he’d be a sweaty mess after doing so.

He settles for telling you he’s changing and hopes you take a few minutes to gather your things so he can blow dry his hair a little.

Your presence in his apartment is made known when he hears his dog barking and scuttling around. He gives his hair a quick tousel, throws on one of his many black hoodies and a little spritz of cologne.

Jungkook emerges from his bedroom to find you fumbling with your easel. Cute.

“Do you need help?” he asks through a giggle.

“Nope! Got everything a hundred percent under control over here.” Your sentence punctuated by your canvas falling to the floor. “Shit.”

“Allow me.” he says handing you the canvas.

“Thank you.” you breath and run a hand through your hair.

“So what’s the plan? I hope you’re not expecting any Sistine Chapel level work from me.” he chuckles.

“A bunch of naked babies and a priest with the ears of an ass? I appreciate that you don’t bring that to the table.” you raise your brows.

“Point taken.”

“The plan is no plan. I mean I wanted to go for something abstract because it’s fun and doesn’t require a lot of brain power. Just put the brush where you think it should go.” you mime a couple brush strokes in the air.

“Sounds easy enough, paint from the heart.” he confirms, patting his chest for emphasis.

“Oh, I did think one of us could be in charge of warm colors and tints, and the other could do cool colors and shades, and see where that takes us.” you look up expectantly, hoping he likes your almost-plan.

“Sounds interesting.” He looks at the empty canvas, eyes scanning for possibilities. “Which do you want?”

“I’m partial to cool colors, myself.”

“Then today, I’m partial to warm.” he smirks. “So are we just feeling what we feel in the moment or is there an emotion we’re trying to convey?” He turns to you, eyes expectant.

You pause for a second, unsure if you should abandon the theme you were pondering for this piece before you knew Jungkook would be your partner in creation. “Is it too cliche if the theme was ‘love’?” You ask him hesitantly. Immediately regretting not just saying ‘nah man, just throw paint at that bitch.’

But much to your surprise.

“Not at all, it’s a ‘cliche’ for a reason.” He states nonchalantly. “Love is powerful. Whether it’s the painful bit or the part that makes you feel untouchable.”

A certain fondness hits his eyes that tells you he’s speaking from experience but you don’t pry.

“I’m glad you like the idea.” you smile, relief filling you after he doesn’t exhibit any signs of being uncomfortable.

He claps his large palms together. “Shall we get started, Miss y/n?” His gaze once directed at the blank canvas, now fully on you.

“Choose your weapon, Mr. Jungkook.” You feign a serious tone, giving him a small handful of various brushes. Keeping a few of your favorites for yourself.

You push your box paints toward him indicating he can grab what he likes. Normally you’re a bit protective over your art supplies, seeing as not only are they stupid expensive, but you care for your tools a lot. You wouldn’t let your klutzy brother within a ten foot radius of your things when you were growing up and even now your blood boils if he’s anywhere near your expertly sorted colored pencils. But Jungkook is always gentle and seeing the way he meticulously places small globs of white, reds, and yellows onto his palette, you know you’ve made a good choice in trusting him.

He steps slightly back letting you put the first ceremonial brush stroke of charcoal black diagonally across the upper most half of your canvas. He joins shortly after deciding to start with white in contrast with your black, laying down some bases for shapes and choosing to run his brush through to disturb the various lines you’ve made, dragging the two tones into a fading grey.

As your mind wanders towards the way his slender tattooed fingers wrap delicately around the paint brush you quickly come to the conclusion that it’s time to play some background music. Absentmindedly sticking the handle of the brush between your teeth to grab your phone and open your music library.

“What kind of music do you like?” You turn to him, the thin strip of wood in your mouth giving you a slight lisp.

“I’m not picky, play whatever you want.” he says warmly but his brow still furrowed with concentration while he finishes up his base layer.

As his answer didn’t do much in the way of helping your quest, you opted for the safety of one of those throwback playlists spotify procures for their listeners, the 90’s one to be exact. Everybody loves some good nostalgia, and it may aid in the sincerity of your painting. Past emotions and whatnot.

The first song that comes on after you hit shuffle is Heart-Shaped Box by Nirvana and you hum in content. Jungkook on the other hand is pleasantly taken aback by your song choice.

“Oh shit yeah! I love Nirvana!” He smiles brightly, taking his crinkling eyes off his work for the first time since you started.

“Everybody loves Nirvana.” you tease him and roll your eyes at the possibility of him being one of those frat boys that ‘misses Kurt Cobain so much’ but can only name Smells Like Teen Spirit and maybe Aneurysm if you’re lucky.

Jungkook, sensing your tone, smirks and runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “You think so, huh?” he bemuses, rolling up his sleeve to uncover this inked skin. Across his forearm is a quote reading ‘rather be dead than cool,’ a lyric from their song Stay Away. He watches you with a quirked brow.

“I stand corrected.” you hold your hands up in defense. Trying not to let the way his inked skin hugs his veins increases your heart rate become too apparent on your features. “You do indeed love Nirvana.” your emphasis on the word being placed differently this time.

“Never doubt me again y/n.” He eyes you suspiciously. “I’ll get more tattoos just to spite you.” He narrows his eyes to add validity to his semi-empty threat.

“I will never doubt you again, scouts honor.” you say playfully saluting him.

“Now start the song over. Your lack of faith in me, made me miss half the song.” he points a finger at your phone.

“I can’t, I don’t have premium.” you let out a heavy sigh.

“What?! That’s dumb. You suffer through those god awful ads?” He screws his face up in disgust.

“Eh, I don’t mind too much.” You shrug. “I don’t wanna spend the extra money every month.”

“Okay, I guess that’s fair.” He squints at you as you pick up your brush again. “Why don’t you just use my account? I’ll text you my login.” He says fishing for his phone in his pocket.

“That’s completely unnecessary.” You laugh, and wave for him to stop. “You’re already helping me out so much with this.” you gesture to the now less blank canvas in front of you.

“I really don’t mind. What’s the worst that could happen? We expand our music libraries? Oh no!” he pretends to gasp and you roll your eyes. “And besides, I’ll sleep better at night knowing I saved a soul from those creepy ass vitamin water commercials.” He chuckles.

“You really don’t have to.” Your eyes softening at his seemingly endless stream of kindness.

“Already sent you the login, too late.” he says, sucking in a breath as if to say ‘what a shame.’

“Thank you, Jungkook.” you say as you gently grab his forearm and run your thumb over it.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles. “Back to work now!” he declares, sticking his paint brush, that at some point in your conversation tucked it’s way behind his ear, into his small mountain of yellow.

You work like this together for a while. Humming along to your music, that is now playing off Jungkook’s phone after he insisted he didn’t wanna hear ‘Colonel Suck-My-Ass’ sing about his chicken deals one more time. The two of you working together seamlessly; the way you blend your colors and make textures complimenting each other nicely. Switching sides of the canvas every so often so it remains balanced.

After about an hour of being immersed in your work Jungkook turns to you. “Noodle break?” He asks you frowning at his empty tummy.

Your brush stutters on the canvas at his words, your stomach not realizing it’s been hours since you’ve eaten until he mentions food. “That sounds wonderful, actually.”

“One or two packets?” he asks making his way into the kitchen.

“Just one is good.” you smile, setting your brush into your cup of water. You follow him into the kitchen. “Where do you store your liquid?” you ask standing between the pantry and the fridge, looking lost.

“Fridge.” he answers giving his approval to let you grab the two of you some drinks.

“I see you guys finally went grocery shopping.” you chuckle at the butter and cartons of eggs in his fridge.

“What?- oh right, yeah. Finally dragged Hobi out earlier today.” His smile not quite meeting his eyes while he opens up three packets of ramen, and waits for the water to boil.

“Can I steal a soda?”

“Yeah, just not the sprite. Hobi can and will throw a fit.” his tone far more serious than the situation calls for.

“Well damn, okay.” you say and grab a coke for both of you.

“Thank you.” He smiles and your fingertips brush perhaps a little too long when you hand him his drink.

He pulls the tab, puts the cold metal to his lips and you watch the way his throat bobs up and down with every swig. When you feel yourself staring your ears heat up, and turn your gaze to the water starting to roll in the pot.

As Jungkook is finishing up cooking the ramen, the song changes to Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls, you let out a small gasp and start to sing along. He smiles at your apparent love for the song and starts to harmonize with you to encourage you to keep going. Which, much to his dismay, did the exact opposite.

“Jeon Jungkook!” you scold. “I didn’t know you had such a beautiful voice!”

“It’s alright, I guess.” He breathes out and rubs the back of his neck a little embarrassed. “You’re not too bad yourself.” He looks at you with those big doe eyes. And you swear you’ll only look at them for a couple more seconds, as not to fall under their spell. A half hearted oath at best.

But you start to sing again, you tell yourself it’s to make the most of the song while it’s on but really, you just want to hear honeyed voice hit your ears again. And it does, eyes closed tightly and mouth wide to control his sound. You can’t hold a tune to save your life but the way he carries your sounds with his, it doesn’t matter. Your song is beautiful.

After your musical interruption, you take your bowls to the table and slurp away at your noodles. All the while Bread is at your heels begging ever so sweetly, which Jungkook scolds but ultimately ends up throwing him a noodle when his bowl is just about gone.

You take your bowl to the sink but when you start rinsing Jungkook comes over to push you out of the way so he can take care of it himself. You stand your ground for a minute but lose the silent argument due to his advantage of stature. You mutter a small ‘fuck you’ before you return to the canvas, and he smiles contently to himself.

Jungkook joins you back at your station, stepping back for a moment to assess where the two of you left off and what he’d like to add. He lets his eyes run over the varying sized lines and the way they come together but also fight one another in some spots. Some colors as bright as the sun and others look like the depths of the ocean. All coming together in a way that only really makes sense to the two of you.

You finished what was left of your drink and picked up your brush, dipping straight into your black paint for the second time since you started like you were on a mission. You drew a fluid line near the center curving over a few existing splotches, near the end of your brush stroke it became jagged and split off into several directions. A pessimist would call it a shatter, an optimist would call it several opportune paths, and a realist would probably just call it a painting. But Jungkook did none of those things.

“Y/n, have you ever been in love?” He asked as if he had only asked what time it was. He started swirling some colors together while he waited for an answer.

You blinked, trying not to show how much that question shocked you. “I suppose…” you breathed, actually struggling to come up with a real answer. “I mean, last time I was in a serious relationship was in highschool.” You trailed off. “I don’t know if I can say I’ve been in love but I’ve loved someone before… I feel like being in love sticks with you in a different way. More of a life experience than a life lesson.” You scrunched up your face a little, hoping he’d be satisfied with your answer even though you yourself weren’t.

He nodded, taking in your words. “I think being in love can be just as much a life lesson as ‘lesser relationships,’ if not more so.” He adds putting air quotes as not to come across the wrong way. “But hopefully you end up with more positive lessons than not.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Like learning how you love and need to be loved. What you deserve and what you won’t put up with. Learn to let yourself be loved-” You stop your word vomit after that last comment, feeling a bit vulnerable. “Those kinds of things?” you let out a little laugh.

“Exactly.”

“Is it fair to assume that you have?” You question, hesitating slightly.

“That I have what?”

“Been in love, dummy.” You laugh, strategically placing a light green around the canvas.

He pauses slightly. “Yeah, I have.” The same fondness that found his eyes earlier that day sets in again. Not in a painful or bitter way, you noted. But in the way you’d regard your favorite childhood memory.

“I didn’t rub salt in a wound, did I?” you tensed slightly incase you read him wrong.

“No no, you’re fine!” He reassures. “It was a long time ago. Don’t get me wrong, it hurt like a bitch in the moment, but as they say, time heals all wounds.” he shrugs.

“Can I ask what happened?” You prompted, feeling a little braver this time.

“Well you know, same old story with high school sweethearts.” He paused to fix a spot he didn’t like. “She was a year older than me. She left for university. We tried long distance and after a few months we decided it was too hard. Nothing particularly spectacular.” He tells the story, for what you can tell is at least the thousandth time. “What about you and Mr. Not-Quite-In-Love?”

“Nothing, super special either. Unfortunately, the lessons I learned from him were less than positive. After the initial honeymoon phase, he didn’t treat me the best. Looking back I learned to know the level of respect I deserve, but in the moment his lack of just made me desperate to ‘earn’ it. It was a vicious cycle for about a year but things ended and I grew up. And like you said, ‘time heals all wounds.’” Jungkook looked at you with furrowed brows, not sure if he wants to hug you or the seventeen year old girl you used to be who would see herself as anything less than what she was. But he settled for the former.

He wrapped his arms around you, taking you by surprise. But you accept his embrace and smile against his shoulder. “I’m okay now Jungkook.” You giggle. “It was a long time ago and I learned from it.”

He pulls away. “I know, I’m just sorry it took that dickbag for you to know your worth.” he gives you a sheepish smile, and a fire in his eyes dulls when he looks at you.

“Thank you, you’re very sweet.” you pat his arm before you both turn back to your respective parts of the canvas.

“Hey, just cause I’m not a complete asshole, doesn’t mean I’m sweet.”

“I’m holding firm at you’re sweet, and you can’t change my mind.” You both laugh and return your full attention back to your work.

Your rhythm returns to where it was before you ate. Both of you humming along to whatever song is playing at the moment, using your paint brushes as microphones if a particularly good song came on. Exchanging a few words here and there. Each admiring the small things the other chooses to add to the work of art. You noticed Jungkook has a habit of biting his lips when he’s concentrating. Cute.

Now here you finally are after another hour of blending, layering, and tweaking. Both of you put down your brushes down and stepped back slightly to admire what you’ve created. Letting out a sigh at your hard work, taking in the finalized piece. The way the colors run together or bump into one another. The juxtaposition of fluid lines being interrupted by jagged edges. The way the soberness of the colors you put down calm and soothe the firey and vibrant ones he laid down for you.

Ordinarily, when you finish a painting, you never quite feel done. There’s always one more thing you could fix, one more stroke you could add. But not this time. It’s finished. Breathtaking in a simple way. You’ve never felt such a sense of completeness when you set your brush down, and you can’t help but feel you have Jungkook to thank for it. The way his colors and brush work complemented yours was… for lack of a better term, a work of art.

---

Jungkook puts down his brush, watching you lay down your final touches. Truth be told he’d been watching you out of the corner of his eye the entire time. Checking in on you every so often when you’d put down your tool and furrow your brows in concentration. Smiling when you’d absentmindedly mumble to yourself about what you’re doing. He was in awe of how much of yourself you put down on the canvas, not entirely sure what wordless stories you were telling meant. Though that didn’t stop him from taking the puzzle pieces you laid down and arranging them into a y/n shaped jigsaw in his mind. Perhaps your fondness of calming colors was to tame the wild fire he could see within you.

And just as quickly as you’d started, you were done, setting your brush down and smiling at what you saw in front of you.

“Thank you so much, Jungkook.” You breathe still taking in the painting. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it is.” He says just above a whisper, never taking his eyes off your beaming profile.

“Hm?” You turn to him. He looks into your eyes, once filled with fire are now a calm ocean. His gaze shifts to your lips after they form a confused pout at his silence, his body leading his brain when he leans toward you.

It’s now or never.

He leans in further looking into your eyes for any sign of apprehension before he cups your jaw in his paint stained hand. Finally taking the leap all at once when you lean into his touch.

His lips are even softer than you imagined when they meld against yours. He pulls away slightly to look at you a question mark across his features. You put your hands flush against his hard chest and answer his question by reconnecting your lips with his with fervor and you feel him smile against you. He deepens the kiss, putting his free hand on your hip to pull you closer to his warm body.

He swipes his tongue along your bottom lip, testing the waters further. You mirror his action, noting that his lips taste faintly of strawberries. You slide your hands into his soft hair and curl your fingers into fists against his scalp making him groan into your mouth.

His hand that held its feather like touch against your face leaves it’s place to join his other around your waist. His hands squeezing harshly at your hips, his fingers digging into the strip of skin your shirt rode up to expose, making you shiver against him despite your rising temperature.

He pulls away to place sloppy kisses along your jaw, nudging your jaw with his nose gently to gain access to your neck. You suck in a breath when you pull him closer causing his teeth to graze your pulse point as his swollen lips leave rosey marks in their wake. He sucks harshly at the soft spot below your ear causing your nerves to flare and a moan to escape your lips. He groans in satisfaction at the way his actions affect you, running his hot tongue over your skin to soothe the marks he made.

His hands move higher on your abdomen slipping just under the hem of your shirt, making you tense slightly under his calloused palms, he feels your shift and rubs his thumbs below your ribcage to relax your tensed muscles. His gentle fingers vastly opposing his flushed cheeks when he brings his face up to yours again, his hair already messy and his eyes dazed as he looks at your lips like they’re the first glass of water he’s seen in days. He crashes his lips back into yours hungrily causing you to squeak at his desperation. You disconnect your lips leaving almost no distance between you.

“Bedroom?” you ask lowley against his lips, your vocal chords betraying you making the word come out far more shaky and less sexy than you wanted. His shoulders flex under your hands at his request.

Jungkook slides his hands down your ass to squeeze the flesh in his hands when his finger tips graze the back of your thighs.

“Up.” he says firmly, offering you free transport to his bed. You hop up, his strong arms hold you and you wrap your legs tightly around his narrow waist. He starts the small walk to his bedroom, and you try to ignore the way his stomach pressed against your clothed clit is providing the smallest amount of friction with each of his steps, instead deciding to direct your attention to him instead. You give a gentle open mouthed kiss to the small mole on the side of his neck, you make a small path sucking where his jaw meets his neck, and he hums deeply making his chest rumble against yours in response.

When you reach his room, the smell of his fabric softener fills your lungs as he presses your back against his now closed door. His hands trail from your ass, trusting you to hold yourself up around him, up your sides, he slides your arms from around his neck and to the wall until your hands are effectively pinned above your head. The air between you is heavy for a moment as his dark eyes take in how you look like this, your eyes starry as your chest rises and falls in anticipation of his next move.

He kisses you again, slower this time. You whimper into his mouth when his hips grind his hard dick into your clit. His thighs flexing under yours as he grinds up again harder, swallowing as many of your beautiful sounds as you’ll give him.

He stops his hips and tucks his arms under you again to set you on his bed.

You reach your shirt to pull it over your head but he stops you.

“Let me.” He says half a statement, half a question.

You smile and say nothing but grant him permission by raising your arms above your head. He hooks his fingers into the hem of your shirt grazing your skin making goosebumps blossom on your flesh as he pulls it up and over your head. He reaches for the clasp of your bra slowly and gently like you might break, as if he wasn’t just shoving you against his door with his cock.

“Fuck.” He breathes out harshly when your hardened nipples are finally released to the cool air of his room.

He quickly strips off his hoodie revealing that he’s been painting without a shirt underneath the whole night. Your breath hitches as all the times you’d touched his arm or chest the hours prior, not knowing there was only a thin barrier between your fingers and his skin. You run your eyes over his bare chest and hard stomach, you knew he worked out but hot damn, those baggy clothes he wears does no justice to what’s under them. However he doesn’t give you much time to marvel before he reconnects his lips with yours leaning into you until your back is on his duvet, you spread your legs to make room for him to settle in between.

His hot skin drags softly against your nipples as he descends down your frame to pepper kisses along the valley of your breasts. He licks his fingers to roll one of your nipples between his wet digits while he attaches his mouth the other, swirling his tongue in intoxicating circles. You sigh at the small relief his mouth is bringing you and tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging roughly when his teeth bite down onto your sensitive bud. You feel the bed bow slightly below you as his hips stutter at your action. He quickly tends to the small sting with his tongue. Giving a gentle kiss to your nipple as he pulls away.

He sits up and hooks his fingers into your pants, but stops before tugging them down. “Is this okay?” He asks sincerely.

“Very.” You say, your heart clenching at his concern and help him slide your pants to your ankles, eager to have his soft skin on yours again.

He brings his lips to your neck again and you wrap your legs around his waist rocking your hips up to rub your neglected clit against his rigid cock that he has yet to spring free. The wet spot on your panties rubbing off onto his sweats. You moan into his ear at the small relief you’re able to bring yourself, arching your back further in attempt to get more friction and he chuckles against your skin.

“Patience, sweetheart.” He smirks down at you and your feeble attempt to feel his cock.

“Don’t wanna be patient. Want you to fuck me.” You say trying your best not to whine, as you reach for the waistband of his pants.

He runs his tongue along his lip and leans down until his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Oh, don’t worry beautiful, I will.” He moves your hands and rolls his hips into yours once to punctuate his sentence. “But I wanna taste you first.” He says and quickly sits back on his knees to slip your underwear down your legs, tossing them behind him not worrying about where they land.

He settles his shoulders under the back of your thighs and makes a path of open mouth kisses from your knee to your inner thigh, stopping right before your sex and inhaling deeply as he sucks a bruise into your skin, your face heats up and your hips shake in excitement.

“You smell fucking delicious, sweetheart.” he looks up at you with soft doe eyes that completely contradict his filthy words. He lingers just a whisper away from where you want him and you roll your hips to meet his lips. He smirks again at your frustration moving his lips to your other knee to make a wet path up your other leg with his mouth, seeing how long he can push you. Stopping midthigh to speak again into your skin.

“I wanna take my time with you sweets. Greedy little girls don’t get to cum on my tongue.” His eyes darken when they look up at you, his words sending electricity through your nerves and arousal dripping onto his sheets.

You opt for silently nodding as the only thing you could muster at the moment is a whine that you want to keep at bay.

“Are you gonna take what I give you, sweetheart?” He says rubbing circles into your hip.

“Yes, Sir.” You breathe trying your best not to roll your hips into his touch and get scolded again.

“Good girl.” He smiles at your compliance and finally gives you what you want.

He licks a long flat stripe up your slit, collecting your arousal on his tongue and swirling it around your throbbing clit. Your thighs tighten around his head and he groans against you.

“Taste even sweeter than I imagined.” He all but moans into your folds. He swears he could get off just like this, with his tongue buried in your cunt and his hips rocking his cock into his mattress.

You reach down and tangle your fingers in his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer to you. He obliges you and wraps his lips around your clit sucking harshly, crude slurping noises filling the room but both of you are too lost in the sensation to care. Your hips start rocking against his mouth again, this time your body fully taking a mind of its own, your climax being the only thing you can think about.

“That’s my good girl, use my tongue to get off.” You moan louder at his words and speed up your movements, balling his hair into fists. As he looks up at you with lidded eyes, he gets lost, lost in your taste, lost in the way your sweaty chest heaves with your heavy breaths, lost in the way his name falls from your lips with your eyes screwed shut.

“I’m s-so fucking close!” your voice comes out in a strained moan cracking at the end of your sentence.

“Cum for me beautiful, wanna taste your cum.” He says wrapping his lips around your clit again to pull your orgasm from you. He may have called you greedy, but he couldn’t get enough of the way your thighs shook around him.

“Holy shit! Jungkook!” your orgasm hits you like a wave starting in your stomach and sending fire through your veins. Your hips stutter and Jungkook licks you languidly through your high. All the while your mouth mutters his name in an incoherent mantra.

He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and climbs over you leaning on his forearms, and captures your lips in his. You taste yourself on them and smile against his mouth.

“You look so beautiful when you cum.” He says placing soft kisses along your jaw. And you’re glad he can’t see the way your cheeks flare at his comment. “Think you can still take my cock?” he says squeezing himself at the base through his pants.

“God yes.” You say perhaps a little too enthusiastically and he chuckles at you.

“You really are a greedy one, aren’t you sweetheart?” He says teasingly. “Let me get you ready first.” He says rubbing his thumb in small circles on your clit, your sensitivity makes you jump a little.

He looks down to watch the way your velvet walls swallow his fingers, but he stops his movement, realizing his hands are still covered in paint.

“Shit.” He mutters almost silently. “I’ll be right back.” He says with a smile pecking your lips before he slips out his door. Closing it behind him just in case, as not to let Hobi unknowingly come home early only to find you spread eagle on his roommates bed.

What the hell is he doing? Your eyebrows furrow, worried he’s gonna get some sort of convoluted sex toy. Which while you wouldn’t normally object, that’s a tad presumptuous on his part.

Your mental ramble cut short and worries put to rest when he reenters the room with clean hands. He strips his sweats from his hips and climbs back over you.

“Sorry, I didn’t want you to get some sort of paint-chemical related rash on your… lady bits.” He says hesitantly breathing out a laugh against your cheek.

“While that’s incredibly considerate of you. That sentence didn’t do much for my ‘lady bits’.” you know what his venom filled tongue is capable of, so his childish use of words makes you giggle.

He rolls his eyes at you and cups your face, pulling you in for another deep kiss. His hand snakes down between your legs and when his thumb connects with your clit you squeak and break the kiss.

“Your hands are freezing.” you say with more of a pout than you’re willing to admit. You presume he didn’t wanna make you wait too long so he washed his hands in cold water.

“Why don’t you warm them up for me?” he quirks a brow and smirks. Bringing his hand up to your mouth and sticking his middle and ring finger between your lips. You happily wrap your lips around his digits; licking, sucking, and humming in content around them.

Jungkook’s cock twitches in his boxers as he watches your cheeks hollow slightly around his slender fingers, resisting from pushing them deeper in your mouth and seeing how pretty you look when you gag for him.

He removes his hand from your mouth, marveling at the string of saliva that follows it. He reaches down to tease your entrance letting your spit and arousal get you ready for his stretch. He slips his fingers into your dripping core and has to hold back from moaning at how well you hug him.

“Your pussy is so tight, sweetheart.” He breathes. “Your sweet cunt is gonna squeeze me real well won’t it?” He says catching your bottom lip between his teeth. You can’t help but clench around his fingers. “That’s my good girl.” He says, his eyes darkening and he curls into your sweet spot, you moan at how quickly he seems to be learning your body. Like he could figure out exactly what makes you tick if you stayed in his bed for just a while longer.

He removes his fingers making you whimper. He slips his boxers down a little and uses your arousal and his precum to wet his dick. Your mouth waters and you clench around nothing at how beautiful he looks slowly pumping himself with furrowed brows, until now he’s done a good job of not showing how badly his body demands to be touched just as much as yours does.

He lines himself with your entrance and teases your clit with the tip of his cock, fighting the urge to slam himself into you to the hilt.

“Do you want me to grab a condom?” he says mere millimeters away from slipping into you.

“I’m on the pill.” you reassure and gasp at how close he is to giving you everything you wanted since he crashed his lips into yours at the easel. Or possibly before that.

That’s all he needed to hear before he pushed his cock past your entrance and into your wet pussy, the stretch he’s giving you making you thank him silently for insisting on warming you up first.

“Fuck.” You both moan at how well you squeeze around him. He goes slow, inching in to give you time to adjust. You wrap your legs around his waist to encourage him deeper. He continues his slow pace breathing hot and thick against your neck.

He sits up to watch how he disappears inside you. “Look how well you take my cock, sweetheart.” He says picking up some speed in his thrusts. You moan at how well he hits every spot in you that’s been left untouched tonight, his dirty words only further building the pressure in your pelvis.

His thrusts become harder and you reach up you brace yourself on his biceps, his muscles flexing while he supports his weight above you. He angles his hips up slightly hitting your sweet spot perfectly, and you nearly yelp at the sensation, digging your nails into his arms making him hiss.

“Right there? Is that how your little pussy likes it?” He feigns a subtle innocence in his voice. Like he can’t see with his own eyes how well he’s fucking you.

“Yes, fuck! Please don’t stop.” you beg, mostly to get him to do just that, but also because of the sweaty fog his delicious cock has worked into your mind isn’t exactly allowing you to form the most intelligent of sentences.

He sits back on his knees and pushes one of your legs to your chest, his dick hitting deeper than you thought possible making your eyes roll back and your jaw slack. Your moans become uncontrollable and the words you’re attempting to say just come out in broken sounds.

“Such a good slut for me, look at you falling apart on my cock.” his voice almost a growl. “You gonna cum soon, sweetheart?” He says with a voice like silk to mask how close he is himself.

You can’t do more than nod fractically at his words in fear your voice will betray you. He rubs your clit with his thumb to earn your second climax from you.

And you do, your walls tighten around his cock but his pace doesn’t falter. Your legs shake and your eyes roll back. You cover your mouth to muffle a scream. Your orgasm ripping through you so hard you feel like you might burst.

Jungkook hisses at how hard you’re squeezing him and fucks you through your high. He reaches to his headboard to fuck into you harder, being selfish for the first time tonight, using you to chase his own high.

“Where do you want it?” He says in a stifled whine.

“Cum inside Jungkook. I want you to fill me up.” You say pressing your nails into his chest. The overstimulation you feel in your core is worth every thrust when he finally lets go and fills you with his cum. His cock twitching as he slowly rides out his climax.

He collapses on top of you, breathing heavily into your neck. Then rolls over to the other side of the bed, to allow both of you some cool air on your skin.

“I hope I didn’t go too hard at the end there, are you okay?” He looks over at you with worried eyes.

“No. No it’s okay, I liked it.” you smile, your lungs and heart rate working hard to steady themselves.

After he’s caught his breath a little he reaches into his bedside table to get a small rag to wipe up some of his cum leaking out of you, and you suddenly feel very vulnerable at his thoughtful gesture.

The post sex clarity hitting your mind, not quite in the way you hoped. As you lay there the height of what you two just did sending your mind go into overdrive.

Oh fuck. You run through the events of the night starting to panic a little. He’s my friend, how did this even happen? I wasn’t gonna do this. I wasn’t gonna let this get more complicated than my attraction to him already was. Shit, I’m an idiot. I mean he did kiss me, but… I can’t let this happen again. I don’t want this to end badly and have to move just because I think with my idiot vagina. It makes things too complicated. Okay, I have to end whatever that was now before things get even more complicated. He won’t mind right? He’s a college dude, he’s probably fine with just hittin’ it and quittin’ it. Yeah, everything is good. Friends can fuck once and then be good, it happens all the time.

You sit up from his bed and run your hands through your hair a couple times in an attempt to tame it and start to pick up your clothes.

“Are you okay?” He says, watching you as you attempt to find your underwear.

“Yeah, I’m good, just have an early class in the morning and I should probably get going.” you force a smile.

“Oh, uh okay.” He says not quite convinced. Though you weren’t lying about that, you really did have a class in about seven hours.

“Hey um,” you hesitate, sliding your pants on just choosing to abandon your underwear. “This was just a one time thing, right?” you ask him, hating the way you said that.

He senses your tone and feels a little twinge in his chest, but he ignores it, putting on a smile instead. “Yeah, definitely. Why do you ask?”

“Okay, good.” Another twinge. “I just don’t want things to be too complicated, with us being neighbors and all…” You trail off, trying not to cringe at yourself.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” He pauses, realizing for the first time that this could have negative consequences. “No worries, it’s forgotten. Just friends.” He reassures pulling his pants on.

“Just friends.” You smile and extend your hand to him. You shake on it.

You pull your shirt over your head.

“See you later, neighbor.” You say attempting to bring back the way things were just an hour ago. And you slip out his door.

He doesn’t walk you home like he normally does, and honestly you’re thankful. You just want to be back in your apartment where you can pretend that didn’t just happen. Even if that was one of the best fucks you've ever had, you're certainly not going to think about it. What is there to think about? Nothing happened.

You slip out his door, and into yours, met with Jimin munching in your kitchen, presumably after a party and your feet halt in their tracks.

“Damn babe, you look positively wrecked.” He says with a knowing smirk.

“Jimin, I am so not in the mood for whatever you’re about to say.” you say exasperated.

“Oh, so I should save the ‘I told you so’? Would you rather get it in the morning?” He asks innocently, though he’s anything but.

“Preferably never.” You quip and slip into your bedroom.

Yeah, never is good, we’re just gonna pretend none of that happened.

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

Taglist: @taezeus @spoopysoph @gucci-prince-tae @jiminiesthiccthighs @veryuniquenamegoeshere @hermiones-enchantment @irissilujm @flo-music @scalbra @sugarrimajins @embrace-themagic @megsmiiiii @nerdycookiemonster-1222 @livorna

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angelofthequeers · 5 years

Text

Miladybug

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

I signed up to be a backup gifter for @mlsecretsanta and my giftee turned out to be @chimpukampu so I hope you like this fic! ❤️💚

AO3 link

“Where’s…Adrien?” Marinette pants when she’s tumbled into her seat, only barely on time for school which, to be fair, is a step up from being outright late. But there’s no familiar blond head in front of her!

“Home sick,” Nino says. “Poor dude’s got a nasty cold.”

“You reckon his dad’ll let him rest and recover?” Alya says, making a face. “Or is he just gonna learn at home?”

“Probably that one,” Nino says.

“Ugh. He’s got the worst dad, I swear. My mum would tie me to the bed with blankets and force-feed me homemade chicken soup.”

Ms Bustier clears her throat, cutting the conversation short. But Marinette can’t concentrate. All she can think about is poor, sick Adrien, and how she should maybe swing by later that night before patrol with a box of delicious baked goods…but no, she can’t. Between her love for Adrien and the feelings for Chat Noir that she’s trying to shove a lid on, it’s the last thing her tangled heart needs, not to mention that she’d probably end up a flustered mess like when she’d given Adrien the Snake Miraculous and then he’ll think she’s totally uncool and won’t want to talk to her and she’ll have blown her relationship with him on both sides of the mask and –

Marinette shakes her head with a soft groan and forces herself to pay attention to the lesson. Dwelling on it won’t do anything except send her brain spiralling, which is never a good time for her.

Once school’s over, she distracts herself until patrol time making a get well soon card for Adrien, even though she probably won’t have the guts to even sign it, let alone deliver it. Besides, the universe will probably kick her in the gut if she does; after all, she’d forgotten to sign her Valentine, and she’d signed Adrien’s birthday present, but her signature had somehow vanished. Tikki perches on her shoulder, munching on a cookie while Marinette sticks a scarlet heart to the front of the pink card and then sprinkles a touch of pink glitter on it.

“What do I even write?” she says when she opens it. “Dear Adrien, get well soon! Love, Marinette.” She groans and thumps her head on her desk. “No! That’s the most generic message ever! And “love”? Gah! That’s too – too – coupley!”

“I thought you wanted to be a couple,” Tikki teases.

“Yeah, but not through a get-well card when he’s sick!” Marinette says. “Ugh, this is a disaster!”

“Well, it’s almost time for patrol,” Tikki says. “Why not head out a little earlier to clear your head? Then you can work on your card when you get home!”

Marinette exhales and lets her shoulders slump. “You’re right, Tikki,” she says. “I’m freaking out over nothing!”

“Hey, I didn’t say that!”

“Yeah, yeah. Tikki, spots on!”

As Ladybug, all her worries seem to melt away once she’s swinging through the sea of lights that make up Paris. Although she could make it to the Eiffel Tower in less than a minute, she decides to take the scenic route and keeps a nice, relaxed pace through the city. At one point, she even closes her eyes and lets herself plummet, laughing at how the wind whips through her hair and howls in her ears, then opens her eyes and throws her yo-yo just in time to stop herself from crashing into the ground.

Even though she’s early, Chat Noir is already at the Tower when Ladybug lands on the platform at the tip, her pigtails a windblown mess and her cheeks flushed warm with blood. He gives her his signature smirk, although it’s lopsided.

“Milady!” He lets out a giggle. “Get it! Because you’re a ladybug! You’re milady…bug!” He squints at her and adds, “You don’t look like a bug, though. Your eyes are…” He laughs again. “Pretty!”

“Uh…” Ladybug lets her yo-yo swing. “Is there an akuma? Did you get hit?”

“What! Noooo! No akuma!” Chat Noir lets himself fall onto his back. “I’m happy, miladybug. Bugaboo. Angel. The light of my life!”

Her brow furrowed, Ladybug edges towards her oddly-behaving partner and nudges him with her toes. He giggles again and looks up at her with glazed green eyes.

“Okay, what happened?” she says, crossing her arms. “What did you do?”

“I’m sick!” Chat Noir beams as though Ladybug had just revealed her identity to him. “I have a coooold. But I’m so hot!” He flexes his biceps and says, “In more ways than one, miladybug!”

“God help me,” Ladybug mutters. “What kind of cold could you possibly have that would make you like this?”

“It’s not my cold!” Chat Noir winks. “It’s – it’s the meds! I took cold tablets!” He frowns and adds, “Why are they called cold tablets if they’re not cold? You don’t keep them in the fridge. Maybe you should, though!” He gasps and covers his mouth. “I’ve found the secret, miladybug! I’ll cure colds! Maybe I shouldn’t be a ps – a physicist. I’ll be a biologist!”

So, Chat Noir wants to be a physicist? Huh. Adrien likes physics too.

“A bi-ologist!” Chat Noir says with a rasping laugh. “Because I’m bi! Geddit, miladybug? And I’m bilingual! I’m learning Mandarin!” He gasps. “Are you bi too? Are we balanced? You on this side –” He holds his left hand out. “And me on this side!” He holds out his right hand. “For justice! Lady Justice! Milady Justice!”

“Okay, okay, no patrol for you tonight, kitty,” Ladybug sighs, sitting cross-legged next to him. He immediately shuffles over and rests his head in her lap, and a deep sound rumbles deep in his chest. “Did you just purr?”

“Mm-hmm!” Chat Noir sighs and nestles his head further in her lap. “Cats purr when they’re happy. And you make me happy, miladybug. You’re my – my catnip! I can’t get enough of you!” He twirls his finger near his temple and says, “You make me gaga when you’re around!”

Despite her best efforts, Ladybug can’t stop a giggle from escaping her. It seems that cold and flu medication sends Chat Noir high as a kite and removes any filter he might have. This could be problematic, although she can’t quite put her finger on why because even without a filter, he shouldn’t just up and spill his secret identity.

Right?

“Are you an angel, miladybug?” Chat Noir sighs. “You’re glowing.”

“That’s just the city lights, silly,” Ladybug says and boops his nose. He purrs louder in response.

“Your eyes are so pretty,” he says. “So – so – blue! Just like my friend.”

Alarm bells start to sound in Ladybug’s head. “Chat –”

“Marinette!” Chat Noir blurts out. Ladybug freezes. “You know Marinette, right? Of course you do! You told me to protect her from Nathanieeeel.” He sighs again and says, “Can I tell you a secret, miladybug?”

“Um, I don’t think –”

“I think I like Marinette. She’s so prettyyyy…and she’s always standing up – everyone stands up! No one can sit forever! But she stands up strongly. And she tells off Chloe. I wish I could be as cool as her.”

“Chat, I think you need to shut up now,” Ladybug says, trying to extract Chat Noir from her lap while also trying to deal with the warmth pooling in her gut at his words. Rather than listen to her, however, he utters the words that knock her entire worldview off its axis.

“She’s so beautiful when she’s positive,” Chat Noir says with a strong purr. “She’s the only person in my class who’s never touched a pretty black butterfly, apart from me.” He wrinkles his nose. “Wait, no, they’re ugly. Hawkmoth is ugly. But not Marinette! She’s beautiful. I’m used to disappointment. But she’s strong. Of course she is. She’s a baker’s daughter!” His eyes unfocus. “I wonder if she could carry me like a sack of flour.”

Ice explodes in Ladybug’s stomach, coating her insides. She’s the only other person apart from him that hasn’t been akumatised in their class? But – no, that can’t be – the only other person in Ms Bustier’s class who hasn’t been akumatised is…

Something behind Chat Noir’s mask seems to shift. The blond hair and green eyes are no longer unfamiliar. Now they’re – now it’s Adrien looking out at her with his drug-glazed eyes and lopsided grin –

No. Way. She’s been rejecting her crush all this time for herself! He’s starting to fall for her civilian identity, and he never would’ve let this slip if he’d known it was her behind the mask, drugged or not! And now he’s just gone and blurted it all out to her and outed his identity! What the heck is she supposed to do?

A soft snore snaps her out of her panicked thoughts. Chat Noir has dozed off in her lap, curled up like a cat and letting out little purring snores with each exhale. Before she realises what she’s doing, her fingers are carding through his hair, bright scarlet against soft gold like a rose on sea sand. Okay. She just has to be rational about this. She needs to talk to someone before she has her looming meltdown.

“Spots off,” she whispers. Pink sparkles wash over her, dissolving the ladybug suit and freeing Tikki. The kwami gasps, her eyes bulging as she takes in the scene before her.

“It’s okay,” Marinette says softly, still combing her fingers through his hair. “Adrien’s asleep.”

“Ad – oh.” Tikki’s large blue eyes are fixed on Chat Noir. “You know. How?”

“He’s high on cold meds,” Marinette says. “He let a few things slip. Things I couldn’t just brush off. Like how we’re the only two people in our class who haven’t been akumatised.”

“That would do it,” Tikki sighs. She darts into Marinette’s purse and emerges with a macaron, devouring half of it in one bite. “And you’re not…upset? Freaking out?’

“Oh, I’m about two seconds from losing my mind,” Marinette says rather evenly, still stroking her kitty’s hair. “I think it’s just a delayed reaction. And I don’t want to wake him up or freak out Paris and make them think there’s an akuma.”

“Poor Adrien.” Tikki darts down to press a tiny kiss to Chat Noir’s forehead.

“It makes sense now,” Marinette says. “Why Chat’s so…Chat. I mean, his timing could use some work, but of course he’s going to be that open when he’s Chat.”

“It’s not like he’s a different person as Chat than as Adrien,” Tikki says.

“Yeah, I know that,” Marinette says. She sighs and leans down to follow Tikki’s example and kiss Chat Noir on the forehead. The inevitable meltdown in the next few hours as she tries to process this is going to be huge. “Adrien has his dorky moments. How did I not see it before? He literally told me it was a ‘knightmare’ after Darkblade was defeated! And you knew!”

“Of course I knew,” Tikki says. “I saw him when you were facing Dark Owl. But are you really upset that I didn’t tell you?”

“No, no…it was my decision to keep our identities a secret. I guess I’m just trying to process.”

“Maybe you should process at home,” Tikki says. “You’re clearly not going to get any patrolling done, and it’s probably best for Adrien if he’s at home to rest.”

“But he’s…so peaceful.” Marinette starts to stroke a finger down Chat Noir’s nose over the shiny leather mask, just like her mother used to do to her as a small child. Chat Noir lets out a loud purr and nuzzles against her thigh.

“The longer you try to suppress this freak-out, the stronger it’s going to be when it sinks in,” Tikki says. “And super suit or not, the best thing for Adrien right now is to be resting at home. It’s not exactly warm out here.”

“That’s…true.” Marinette huffs and carefully shifts Chat Noir’s head so that she can stand up. Chat Noir lets out a tiny mewl when his head touches the cool metal of the Eiffel Tower, rather than the warmth of Marinette’s legs. She can’t help but let a laugh slip out when, absurdly, she realises what Chat Noir might have to say about Tikki’s wording. “That silly cat. He’d say suppurress and then give me that grin of his when I groan. I can’t believe I’m in love with this dork!”

“You’re in love with him?” Tikki says. Marinette braces herself for a freak-out that never emerges. Huh. Maybe it really is waiting until she’s home and her brain isn’t currently trying to process a million past interactions at once.

“He’s Adrien,” Marinette says. “Of course I’m in love with every side of him. And okay, so I might have been catching some feelings for Chat, but I’m just going to ignore that. And bury it deep down. Really deep down. And then let it blow up as I scream into my pillow and you float there and try to calm me down and offer me advice about how it’s all going to be alright and I’ll start shrieking about our three kids and hamster and island home and my parents will just assume I’m going on a lovesick ramble again –”

“Marinette!” Tikki says loudly, cutting off the rest of Marinette’s babbling in her throat. “Maybe you should get Adrien home while you’ve still got some semblance of higher brain power?”

“Right. Right. Of course.” Marinette runs a hand through her hair, accidentally pulling some strands out of her pigtails. “You’re right. Tikki, spots on!”

Once transformed, Ladybug scoops Chat Noir into her arms bridal-style and then leaps across the buildings of Paris in the direction of the Agreste mansion. To be honest, there’s a part of her that’s praying to see Adrien in his room, to maintain this charade of Adrien and Chat Noir being two separate people, even though she knows rationally that after Chat Noir’s rambling just before, there’s no way he could be anyone else. But sure enough, when she swings smoothly through the window into Adrien’s bedroom, there’s no one there.

Well, then. Guess there’s no more deluding herself. Chat Noir and Adrien Agreste are the same person. The boy she’s been turning down is the boy she’s been so in love with for so long.

“He can’t detransform like this, can he?” Ladybug mumbles to herself once she’s laid Chat Noir down on the bed as reverently as someone might set down their new bride. Chat Noir snuffles and curls in on himself, then lets out a tiny snore, and Ladybug’s insides melt into goo at just how…adorable he is.

If she’s honest with herself, Chat Noir’s always had a bit of her heart that Adrien never had. It would’ve been easy – so very easy – to let herself fall for him. But how could she do that when her heart belonged to Adrien? How could she let herself give up on the boy she loved?

Except that now, she doesn’t have to. The two boys who’ve staked claim to her heart are one and the same. It’s not as though her feelings for Adrien have transferred to Chat Noir now that she knows they’re the same person. It’s more like…acknowledging the duality of Adrien and Chat Noir has unlocked her heart, allowing herself to fully love both sides of the same boy, simultaneously so similar and yet so different.

Ladybug blinks and shakes her head. Of course she’d stand there and wax poetic over her sleeping kitty. But how is she supposed to detransform him without waking him up to have him say the words? She can’t really leave him there as Chat Noir in case someone comes to check on him and finds a leather cat superhero where the sunshine prince of Paris should be. She bites down on her lip to stifle her laughter at that thought, to avoid waking him.

“Forgive me, mon minou,” Ladybug whispers. She takes his hand in hers and starts to slide his ring off, ever so slowly, making sure that he doesn’t wake up and start freaking out that someone’s trying to remove his ring. She freezes when he grunts, but his head just lolls to the other side and he continues to snore softly, his exhales whistling just like hers do when she’s all clogged up from a cold. Poor kitten.

In a flash of green light, Chat Noir is replaced with Adrien once Ladybug finally gets the ring off. Plagg comes tumbling out and whips around, no doubt to investigate why he’d been forcibly freed from the transformation, so Ladybug just raises a finger to her lips, Plagg’s Miraculous in full view, and then carefully twists the now-silver ring back onto Adrien’s finger. Plagg watches her silently, his bright green cat eyes rather eerie in the rolling shadows of Adrien’s room cast by the lights outside his window.

“I can’t believe he’s my kitten.” Ladybug sits down next to Adrien, careful not to disturb him, wincing when he forces in a particularly loud gulp of air. She resumes stroking her finger down his nose just as she’d done on top of the Eiffel Tower and he seems to lean into the touch with a soft purr, although that could just be her imagination.

“Thanks for taking care of him.” Plagg’s voice is soft, both in volume to not wake Adrien up and in tone, unlike his usual crassness. “I tried to get him to skip out on patrol tonight.”

“He should have. Silly kitty.” Impulsively, Ladybug bends down and smooths back Adrien’s soft hair to press a kiss to his forehead, her lips lingering on the hot skin. She won’t kiss him on the mouth, not while he’s asleep; that’s a privilege that she has to earn when he’s awake and aware. “I wish I could help.”

“Kid, trust me, when I tell him Ladybug kissed him, that’ll help him plenty,” Plagg says. Then he smirks, his fangs glinting in the dim light. “He’s gonna freak when I tell him Ladybug knows who he is. Maybe he’ll finally shut up about his lady and her silky hair like night and her bluebell eyes –”

“Plagg!” Ladybug hisses as blood rushes to her cheeks. “Don’t be a turd!”

Plagg just cackles quietly. “You should go, Pigtails,” he says as he zips down to snuggle on the pillow next to Adrien’s head. “I’ll watch out for him. Wouldn’t want to be late for school tomorrow, would ya?”

“You and I both know I’ll always be late, Ladybug or not,” Ladybug say. But she still rises from the bed as gently as she can, then turns back to leave one last kiss on Adrien’s forehead. “Sleep well, mon chéri.”

“Gag me,” Plagg mutters. Ladybug rolls her eyes at him before heading for the window, tiptoeing so that her kitten can sleep peacefully. She her yo-yo to catch on a nearby chimney, blows a kiss back at Adrien, then leaps out into the cool Parisian night.

“Don’t worry, Adrien,” Ladybug murmurs as she reflects on the action-packed events of the past hour, praying that she makes it home before it really sinks in and she starts to scream, because the last thing she needs is to scare the living daylights out of Paris. “I’ll carry you like a bag of flour tomorrow. Just you wait and see.”

332 notes · View notes

pendragonsandbuckleys · 4 years

Text

hold me like the moon holds onto the tide (2/3)

Summary: Kidnapped and locked in a cell with no escape. Alex and Michael are faced with an ex-Caulfield employee who is prepared to do anything to get alien powers of his own. (Inspired by the Daisy/Sousa scenes in Agents of Shield 7x06)

Word Count: 3,203

[Also on AO3] [Part One] [Part Three]

Barely any time had passed before Hughes had returned to collect his prisoner, with two soldiers following close behind ready to do the grunt work.

Michael had been forced to watch as they released Alex from the wall and used the chain to lead him out of the room like some obedient dog. He listened to the threats being made towards them, how if one of them tried anything the other would be punished and as much as Michael wanted nothing more than to send Hughes flying into the wall, he didn’t so much as move an inch from where he was sitting in the hopes that it would save Alex from further pain.

Now he was sitting alone in the cell, his back still pressed against the cold stone, waiting for Alex to return.

It had been silent behind the door since they’d left. No footsteps, no murmurings and mercifully no screams. It was bad enough letting his imagination run wild with what Alex was enduring but he didn’t think he would have been able to handle it if he had actually heard Alex’s cries of pain.

Finally, after far too long in the deafening silence, Michael was ripped from his thoughts by the door slowly opening.

Hughes entered first with a smug grin on his face. The crisp white apron he was wearing had several splotches of blood down its front and Michael had no doubts that he had kept it on just to taunt him.

The sight of the man made his blood boil but the sight of Alex completely took his breath away.

The same two airman as before had a grip on each of Alex’s biceps and hauled him into the room, his head lolling weakly against his chest and his feet dragging behind him. His skin was uncharacteristically pale and there was blood seeping through his t-shirt and the many bandages wrapped around so many parts of his body that Michael had to wonder if there was anywhere that Hughes didn’t touch.

Michael shuffled onto his knees as he watched them drop Alex unceremoniously to the floor and resecure his chains, completely uncaring of the pain their actions might cause.

“What did you do?” He demanded as his eyes roamed over every covered wound that was visible from the angle that Alex was laying. He hadn’t actually expected Alex to be in such bad shape.

“Took as much blood and spinal fluid as I thought he could handle, a couple of glands,” Hughes began rolling his sleeves down from where they had been kept safe from the mess of his experiment. “Now I’ve got to synthesise it all and transfuse it to me.”

“You really think it’s going to be that easy to give yourself powers? You’re insane! It’s never gonna work.” Michael gritted his teeth as Hughes nodded at the two airmen as permission for them to leave the room.

“Maybe not. But if his cells fail, at least I’ve got a back up ready and waiting for round two.” Hughes shrugged with a smile as he turned to leave, shutting the door forcefully behind him.

Michael instantly crawled over to where Alex was lying on his side on the cold floor and closed the gap between them.

“Alex?” He whispered, as he placed a gentle hand against the back of Alex’s head. He watched as Alex squeezed his eyes shut and tried to take a deep breath before attempting to push himself up onto his forearms, his weak limbs shaking with the effort.

“They can’t take you. I won’t-- I won’t let them take you.” He muttered as his muscles gave out and he dropped the small distance back to the floor.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s alright, I’m not going anywhere.” Michael whispered reassuringly. His heart was pounding at the sight of how frail Alex looked but also at the words he just spoke. Barely conscious and Alex was still ready to protect him. “Just stay still okay.”

Up close, the fine sheen of sweat against Alex’s forehead was hard to miss, as was the quick, shallow breaths it seemed like he was struggling to take. Michael delicately pressed the back of his hand against Alex’s forehead fully expecting an unnatural heat but instead the skin felt strangely cold and clammy.

There were bandages wrapped around his wrists, his elbows, even some gauze tapped to the side of his neck, each with their own small stain of blood that luckily didn’t look to be growing. Peering at Alex’s back, Michael grimaced at the blood sitting prettily in the middle of his t-shirt. Liz had mentioned to him before about the pain that Jenna had gone through with her involuntary spinal tap. He didn’t even want to think about how much suffering Hughes’ spinal fluid extraction was causing for Alex.

With closed lids and a furrowed brow, it was hard to tell if Alex was unconscious or just too drained to open his eyes, but he was breathing and right now that was all that mattered.

Michael leant against the wall once more and huffed at the inconvenience of having to rearrange the chain to the other side of his body as he carefully coaxed Alex’s head to rest against this thigh. Alex let out a low moan of pain but quickly settled as gentle hands began to card through his soft hair.

“So, while you were gone I was thinking about how we managed to get ourselves kidnapped and I remembered what we were talking about before we were rudely interrupted.” Michael pressed his fingers to Alex’s neck, being mindful of the bandage, to check his pulse. “You were talking about that stray cat that’s been hanging around your place and my weak attempt at persuading you to stop feeding it was clearly not working."

Alex let out a small noise not far off a chuckle.

“Well, I never got round to bringing out the big guns, you know, the thing that was going to blow your measly, animal loving side of the argument out of the water, the-- you know the--,” Michael’s eyes roamed towards the ceiling as if the word he was thinking of would be helpfully written there in capital letters as his brain tried to grasp what was on the tip of his tongue. “Ugh, remember when we had to do that dumb debating at school? I swear there was a word for it. Anyway, yeah, I was gonna tell you about the time that a cat managed to sneak its way into the airstream.”

Michael shuffled over slightly so that Alex’s neck was better supported. His back protested at the odd angle he had now positioned himself in but he was prepared to ignore it for as long as it meant that Alex’s pain eased even just a fraction.

“You know me, I don’t bother shutting that door half the time when I’m working in the junkyard, so it could have been in there for hours by the time I finished. It was certainly long enough to make itself at home though, as I soon found out when I tried to get into bed that night. I was just minding my own business and this mangy thing attacks me out of nowhere! Scratched all up my arm and the side of my face but then it went crazy trying to get out, bouncing off the walls and messing up all my paperwork, causing way more destruction than was necessary before trotting out the door. And, okay, maybe it scratched me because I happened to ruin it’s evening by sitting on it while it was under the sheets, but I choose to believe it’s because cats are evil, evil creatures that are plotting Earth’s demise.”

Michael leant closer to Alex as if preparing to reveal a secret, his hands still carding through Alex’s hair as he dropped his closing statement.

“And that is why you should stop feeding the stray, because soon it’ll want more than your little scraps of food. Soon it’ll invite itself in and make itself at home and then it can take you down from the inside.”

Michael looked down at Alex’s face. His ashen cheeks growing steadily paler. His closed eyelids, twitching occasionally, but still beautiful even in sleep.

“But then again, I can’t imagine any cats hating you, so maybe you’re safe.” He added softly.

Several hours later and with no sign of Hughes returning anytime soon, Michael had rambled on and on in a shaky attempt at keeping Alex awake. He talked about Isobel’s latest dining room decorating plans and Maria’s most recent cocktail creation and the new milkshake idea that Liz had run by him. As soon as the stories starting involving Kyle he knew that he was running out of material. All the while, Alex barely moved besides the occasional groan or violent cough.

Michael didn’t want to admit to himself that he was scared but honestly, he had kind of betted on being rescued by now and the longer that Alex went without help, the more bleak their situation was looking.

Alex had squirmed several times under his hands but still his eyes remained closed. Feeling Alex move again, Michael watched as he scrunched his brow and pressed his forehead to Michael’s thigh. “Need to help Michael,” he muttered quietly against the material, his hands weakly trying to push against the floor.

Michael felt a pull in his chest at the words. Alex was so out of it with probably zero awareness of his surroundings, but as always the man’s selfless natural was pushing through to do the one thing he always did without fail. Protect others.

“Shh, it’s okay Alex, I’m right here. Everything’s gonna be okay.” Michael tried to reassure him, the sudden lump in his throat making it difficult to get the words out. “Just gotta hold on a bit longer, okay? I’m sure after last time they’ve got an entire search party out looking for the pair of us.”

He placed his hands back on Alex’s head and resumed the soothing actions of running his fingers through Alex’s hair.

“I’ll do you a deal. You hold on until we get out of here and I’m gonna finally take you on the best first date you could possibly imagine. I’m gonna pull out all the stops, I’m talking flowers, champagne, a candle lit dinner at some super fancy restaurant. After everything I probably owe that to you anyway, don’t I? I mean it’s definitely my fault it’s taken us this long for us to actually become an us.”

Alex’s hands weakly reached up to feel at the gauze on his neck but Michael gently caught them and guided them back to the floor before he could do any damage.

“I mean let’s be honest, we’re both as bad as each other, constantly running away from it. But then at some point you stopped running and I still didn’t do anything. And it’s not that I didn’t want to, I just think after everything, I didn’t want to get it wrong. Because I’ve always loved you Alex. There’s no point denying it. But no matter how much we loved each other back then, it just went so wrong last time. Maybe we just weren’t ready, we were both dealing with so much and keeping so many secrets. And then I keep thinking, if we couldn’t make it work in the past decade then maybe the smartest thing to do would be to move on completely, to not even risk repeating it all over again.”

Michael’s head shot up as he faintly registered a sound beyond the door. It was hard to make out what was going on, but his breath instantly caught in his throat and he felt his hairs stand on end at the thought of Hughes entering the cell.

His powers hadn’t returned yet and with the chains not going anywhere anytime soon it was going to be impossible to protect Alex. He’d try, of course. He’d rather die than not try to protect Alex.

But he knew what was about to happen. It was playing out so vividly inside his head.

Hughes must have discovered by now that Alex’s cells were no more than human and no-one hates an inconvenient test subject more than a madman on a mission. He would have no problem with disposing of Alex and moving onto his next lab rat.

The noises continued outside but Michael closed his eyes and focused on the feel of Alex’s hair caught between his fingers.

“But we tried to do that as well,” He continued softly. “And yet, here we are back at the beginning. I guess that’s just the thing about your first love, isn’t it? Your first love always hurts the most. It gives you the biggest rush and the most incredible feelings and the greatest heartbreak. And there might be other loves, but none that quite compare to your first. And I just can’t seem to walk away from you Alex, no matter how hard I’ve forced myself to.”

His heart was pounding now. He could practically feel it slamming against his ribcage.

Why did he ever think he could get over Alex?

Why did he think he should try?

They had wasted so much time dancing around each other and now that they’d finally made it to the same page it was going to be torn away from them.

The noises quickly turned into shouts and Michael naively hoped for a second that maybe something else was going on. Maybe some other poor soul was being tortured and Alex would be spared for a little while longer.

But then the unmistakable sound of footsteps stopped right outside the door.

Nothing happened for a moment and Michael could feel his palms getting clammy. Then it creaked opened carefully to reveal the last person Michael had expected to see.

Flint Manes.

There the man stood, in the doorway, in his usual army attire with an unreadable expression on his face as he looked down at his little brother.

Michael held his breath as he and Flint locked eyes, his hands gripping Alex a little bit tighter. He had been ready to put up a fight with Hughes no matter how short lived it would have been, but if Flint wanted to get to Alex, he’d have to kill Michael first.

Months ago, when Jesse was still alive, Michael had had no trouble believing that Flint was capable of kidnapping his own brother. But since then, Alex had been trying so hard with Flint, trying to encourage him to leave their father’s ways behind and become his own man.

And he had succeeded. Or so Michael had thought.

To see him standing in the doorway filled Michael with so much anger he could have exploded in that very moment. Or at least sent Flint flying into the nearest wall had he still had his powers.

Michael opened his mouth ready to unleash his fury at the man if he dared take a step closer, when Flint barely turned his head - his eyes not wanting to stray far from his brother - and shouted loudly out of the cell.

“Valenti!!”

Michael barely had a chance to be confused before Flint swiftly crossed to the other side of the small room and dropped to his knees with a loud thud. His hands came close to Alex but stopped a few inches away, hovering hesitantly as if unsure of where to touch that wouldn’t hurt his brother further.

“What happened?” His voice quivered as he looked up at Michael with such a pained expression that Michael couldn’t believe the rage he’d felt at the man only mere moments ago.

Before he could answer, Kyle appeared in the doorway with Isobel right on his heels. They both looked flustered and were breathing heavily as if they’d been running but no amount of cardio could stop the pure joy from crossing their faces at seeing their friends.

Kyle immediately switched into doctor mode as he joined Flint in kneeling next to Alex, his hand going straight to his neck to check for a pulse. Isobel dropped down next to Michael and used the key she was gripping to unlock his and Alex’s cuffs.

“You’re okay.” She smiled as she gently cupped his cheeks for a moment, the look of such relief shining in her eyes. “We’re gonna get you both out of here.”

“How did you find us?” Michael asked as he rubbed at his wrists. Now that he was free of the cuffs he noticed just how heavy and uncomfortable they had been.

He glanced down at Alex, desperately wanting to reach out to him again, and watched as Kyle gave a careful glimpse under a few of the bandages.

“It was all Flint.” Isobel helped Michael to his feet. “The guys who took you used to work with him at Caulfield. It’s a long story, but as soon as we realised you were missing, he worked it all out and managed to track them down.”

Michael glanced down at Flint and watched as the man’s eyes shone as his focus stayed on his brother. He wanted to thank him. In fact, his mouth did its best impression of a fish as he tried to find the right words but it just felt so strange to be so immensely grateful to a man who had been willing to kill him in the past.

As if Flint could sense his hesitation, he looked up and gave a short reassuring nod, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

“You can explain the rest in the car. We need to get Alex out of here, now.” Kyle nodded at Flint as he stood up.

At the confirmation that Alex could be moved, Flint wasted no time in getting his brother off of the cold floor. He couldn’t stop the grunt from leaving his mouth as he lifted Alex up and into his arms. He may be made of muscle from his many years in the army, but Alex was just as tall as him and probably weighed just as much.

He shifted his brother slightly into a more comfortable position, being extremely mindful of his many injuries. Alex’s head rolled into the crook of his neck and Flint could feel his soft breaths as they ghosted against his skin.

Michael quickly followed as Flint led the group out of the cell, a sickly feeling settling in his stomach once more as he watched Alex’s legs swing so lifelessly as he was carried.

He barely registered the sheer number of empty cells they passed as they hurried through the corridors and towards the exit, Isobel’s protective hand on his lower back reassuring him more than he could admit.

There was no one in sight as they left the Caulfield-like building and as much as Michael wanted to know what had happened to everyone, the priority of that question was way lower down on his list than Alex’s wellbeing.

In that moment, as long as Alex was breathing, nothing else mattered.

#roswell new mexico #alex manes #michael guerin #malex #alex manes fic #michael guerin fic #malex fic #my fic

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black-quadrant · 4 years

Text

at long last, i give you chapter 2 of my demon AU! not as thrilling as chapter 1, unless you like a bunch of exposition! we’ll get to the juicy stuff soon enough. thanks for the interest and motivation to build out this AU!

He could have sworn he hadn’t consumed a drop of alcohol last night. Even a skeptic like him could assume spirits and real spirits would mix as well as oil and water, but ultimately he was staying sober for his friends in case they got themselves into some kind of actual real living trouble beyond their impulsivity to raise the dead, or... whatever.

So why did he feel completely hung the fuck over? Every muscle in his body ached, even ones he didn’t know he had, or hadn’t used since he was forced to play team sports in school (those were the days... not).

Nevertheless, he peeled himself out of bed, bracing himself for the morni-- er, afternoon. After... noon? With a soul-deep groan, Neku dragged himself into the shower, using that time to scavenge his memories of last night, picking up every mental fragment until he'd reached the end of the evening, where he crashed into bed. And the next conscious anything was a disturbingly vivid dream about being assaulted in said bed by what vaguely looked to be an arguably pretty boy packing a full set of gnashing teeth and ultraviolet whorls for eyes. The kind of nightmare vision appeal that made you hard for danger, the kind of unnerving midnight visitor that people wished would steal in and violate them in the comfort of their own room. And what followed... that made Neku stop everything, and crank the shower dial to blast himself with ice water.

He did not have time to indulge sordid fantasies. That was a hell of a dream though; he couldn’t recall the last time he’d dreamt so vividly. He’d have to... circle back around to that one later.

Right now he needed to rejoin society, and hopefully the flood of city stimuli will dilute and filter out this undercurrent of indistinct eeriness.

A cup of coffee was a good start. That, and an apology, both for bailing on his friends, and for, well, his friends. Taking to the streets, armed with his headphones (he never left home without them), he cranked up the volume until he could no longer hear Shibuya and meandered the all too familiar path to Wildkat Cafe.

He’s taking a gamble here at the shop being open, as it’s known for its proprietor’s inconsistent (putting it lightly) hours, but he’s in luck; it’s open, and Mr. H, upon spotting him, waved him in.

“’Ey, Phones!” He didn’t need hear him to read his lips and know he’s greeting him by his exasperating nickname. He used to think Mr. H simply forgot his name, but after countless attempts to try to replace it with his actual name, and even going without his headphones for a week to train him out of it, he’d resigned himself to his unchanging fate. But such was the nature of nicknames, right? You don’t always want them.

“Hey, Mr. H.” Draping said `phones’ around his neck, Neku strolled in, making his way to the counter where the barista was stationed, currently cleaning down the counter. “I, uh... wanted to say sorry for last night. I--”

Neku paused abruptly as a shadow fell over Hanekoma’s expression, smothering the air of congeniality he had about him. It’s the first time Neku’s ever seen him look so aggravated. It’s not until Hanekoma spoke that he realized he was staring past him.

“Does he know you’re stalking him, J?”

“You’re always ruining my fun, Mr. H.”

Neku spun toward the source of the undeniably snide tone, finding himself gawking at the face that starred in his tawdry dream last night.

“Hello, Neku.” He smiled with normal human teeth. A small comfort.

“... what the fuck?! Where did you come from? There was no one here a second ago.” Neku cast Hanekoma a wide-eyed glance full of disbelief. “...was there?”

Hanekoma barked out a laugh and shook his head.

“Who the fuck is this? Why do you know my name?” Something deeply, disturbingly intuitive Neku refused to acknowledge told him he knew the answer.

“I’m hurt. We met just last night.” It’s then that Neku noticed the petite violet horns seated atop that fluffy head. They couldn’t be bigger than two inches. It’s not like it’s out of place for the season, but it’s a bit too campy for Neku’s taste. Just as he was about to mock them, something brushed his arm.

A legitimate demon tail, complete with spade tip.

“Seriously? You’re wearing that out in public?” He swatted it away, eliciting a squeak of alarm from the little weirdo.

“Gentle. It’s not a costume prop.”

Neku backed himself up to the counter, again looking to the barista for help.

“You know damn well you’re not supposed to be in the RG.” He regarded said little weirdo with such familiarity that he was chastising him. RG? Too much is happening at once. Neku slammed a hand on the counter. "Hello?? I did not meet you, not last night or ever.”

The blonde simply smirked.

“Joshua... that ring a bell?”

The name, combined with his tone, struck him like lightning, and all at once the image flashed back into his mind. Horrorterror teeth, clawed hands, unmistakeable purple eyes--

“...holy shit.”

“There’s nothin’ holy ‘bout him--”

“Mr. H, would you like me to spill your secrets?”

“Which one?” The barista countered with a grin, and Neku literally and figuratively stepped out of their crossfire and snatched Joshua by a horn, cringing at discovering that it’s fixed to his skull. Joshua hissed, but didn’t move.

“Tell me now.”

“Don’t you remember? Your friends didn’t close the door. But don’t worry, I closed it behind me.” Neku released his grip and took a step back, finally understanding. It wasn’t a fever dream. Wasn’t even a normal dream. It had happened, it--

“You were in my bedroom--” Neku’s face went beet red. Joshua giggled knowingly.

“No, we didn’t do that. That was me feeding you some... prospects. Or perhaps it was a premonition?”

“You’re fucking gross.”

“Anyway,” Hanekoma interjected, “Joshua here is, I guess what you would call a demon.” Joshua huffed at being outed.

“This,” Neku gestured vaguely at the `boy’ “is not what I saw last night. Last night I would believe what I saw was indeed a demon. This is just a campy ruse.”

“Well, technically, you’re spot on.” Joshua affirmed, his sinuously long, slender tail swaying behind him, not unlike a cat’s. “Clearly you’re not a demon enthusiast or you’d know that we can take human shape, so that we can walk among you...” Joshua slunk over to the counter, tapping an empty mug in a silent entreaty for coffee. “Just like angels...right, Mr. H?” Hanekoma ignored him for the espresso machine.

“... okay... okay, okay, this has crossed over from fucking weird to goddamn cursed. I have so many questions I don’t even want the answers to, but I’ll summarize all of them: what do you want?”

Joshua, leaning casually against the counter, turned to Neku with a delighted grin.

“You. I like you. You’re a one in a million find in this city.” Behind the counter, brewing Joshua’s cup, Hanekoma scoffed. “You’re sensitive on an energetic level. I’d like us to spend some quality time... and I have been so bored. I was drawn to you because I can see you are bored, too.”

Neku opened his mouth to protest, but he instantly thought better of it. He’s not sure how Joshua could smell the utter ennui on him, but he’d chalk it up to Demonic Shit because he was getting a massive headache from information overload.

“As fun as hanging out with you and being tormented at night sounds, I’ll pass. I’ve got a life to live that I’m not going to piss away entertaining a demon masquerading as a human. The horns and tail are doing nothing for you human passing, by the way.”

“You want to send me back then, Neku? Do you even know how?” This motherfucker. Neku grit his teeth, biting back the urge to slap the pretty off his face.

“Besides, you won’t even see me during the day. I’ll make myself absent to the eyes.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I can hop between... dimensions. We’ll say dimensions. You won’t even know I’m there.”

“So you can stalk me some more?”

“Alright, boys, simmer down. `I’ll make your cup a’joes for the road, an’ you can go out an’ get acquainted.”

“You’re not off the hook.” Neku said sharply. “You’ve been suspiciously quiet about this the whole time. Obviously you two are acquainted. What is your relationship to this little cryptid?”

“I’ll tell ya all ‘bout it later, Phones. You have my word.” He pushed the cups forward. “On the house.” Hanekoma never offered free coffee. This did not bode well for Neku, who could tell he’d have to put up with a pet demon until he learned how to slam dunk him back to his own dimension.

“...fine. Are you gonna put away the costume props?”

“No one but you will see my very real extensions of myself. There’s my compromise.”

Neku rolled his eyes.

“You have to get the hell out of here if I go see my friends. I am not explaining you. That’s my compromise.”

“Brr... so cold.” Joshua cozied up to Neku’s side, clearly intent on testing his boundaries (and his wrath). “Take me out to lunch, and I will tell you anything you want to know.”

“I can’t believe this...”

Those purple eyes, for a split second, flare with the glow of last night.

“Oh, Neku... you will. You will.”

#joshneku #neku sakuraba #joshua kiryu #twewy #the world ends with you #sorry for the reupload hellsite wasn't archiving this in the tags #h writes

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muchadoaboutbucky · 5 years

Text

Love Thy Neighbor - 1

Set post-Endgame: Bucky’s got a crush on the girl next door.

PAIRING: Bucky x Native American!Reader WARNINGS: slow burn, minor anxieties, eventual smut

read the rest of this series on patreon

“Hey, we got a mission.”

Bucky jerks awake, shoving his hair out of his face. His eyes are heavy with sleep, and the sun’s shining heavy through the thin curtains. Alpine, disturbed by her master’s movements, shoots Sam a glare and curls back up on her pillow, tail curling around her feet.

“What time is it?” Bucky asks blearily.

“Almost nine, you missed your run.” Sam snaps his fingers. “C’mon. Fury wants us to report in ten.”

Bucky grumbles, fighting the urge to burrow back beneath his comforter and fall back asleep. He’d had a hard time falling asleep, eventually drifting off after downing several extra-strong tablets of melatonin that are still trying to work their magic.

He stumbles out of bed, reaching down to graze his metal palm over Alpine’s sleek white fur. The cat purrs lowly and rubs her head against his fingers, and then resumes her nap. In the bathroom, he runs his toothbrush through his mouth with closed eyes and splashes cold water on his face. He doesn’t bother putting on street clothes; he’ll only have to change when they leave the house and his sweats are more comfortable than they need to be.

They get assigned to Paris. A black-market arms dealer is set to sell a truckload of guns and ammunition to a suspected terrorist cell, and with less than two days on the clock until the deal is set to go down, they have to hurry. Luckily, Bucky keeps an emergency go-bag under his bed, and he’s just stepped into his boots when he spies Alpine still snoozing.

Someone needs to keep an eye on her.

“I gotta find someone to watch Alpine,” he says while Sam’s lacing his sneakers in the living room.

“What?” Sam cranes his neck to look up into Bucky’s anxious face. “C’mon, man, she’s a cat. She’ll be fine for a couple days.”

“What if it’s longer than a couple days?” Bucky swallows. “Someone needs to put her food out and change her water.”

“We’ll be back by Thursday.” Sam stands, arms folding across his chest. He only holds firm for a few seconds, until Bucky’s eyes go wide. “Okay…” he gives in, “ask Y/N. Since you didn’t see her this morning, might as well make up for it.”

Bucky’s cheeks go red. He looks down at the floor as Sam passes him on his way to the hallway closet. “I didn’t… she doesn’t—”

“Dude, stop pretending you don’t have one of the biggest crushes of all time, it’s painful.”

Bucky’s gut twists as he pulls his spare key to the apartment from the front pocket of his duffel bag. “I just… she’s nice, that’s all. Not a lotta people look at the guy who used to be the Winter Soldier and think good things, y’know.”

“You got exonerated in a court of law, nobody in their right mind thinks you’re guilty of anything.” Sam heads into the kitchen to grab a protein shake for the jet ride. “Especially Y/N.”

“I know.” Bucky sighs. “I’ll… I’ll be right back, I’ll see if she’s home.”

He drops his bag on the couch and heads out the door. It’s a brisk morning, and he zips his jacket up, tucking his hands in his pockets as he walks to the next door down. His heart is pounding in his chest, because he knows you have a security camera and he doesn’t wanna look like a creep knocking on your door when you’re not home.

Within seconds, however, your door swings open. You’re wearing a baggy AC/DC tee shirt and a pair of leggings… the ends of your hair are wet. You must have just showered.

“Hi, Bucky,” you chirp, flashing him a brilliant smile that makes his knees weak. “I missed you in the park this morning.”

He swallows the sudden dryness in his throat. “Overslept,” he excuses. “Look, I… I hate to put this on you, but my friend and I got called out for a job and we… or I need someone to…”

God it sounds stupid. So, so stupid… he’s a grown man with a cat, what the hell is he doing?

You lean against the doorjamb. “What is it?”

“I was wondering if you could watch Alpine for a few days,” he blurts out. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

“I can do that.” You smile again, and Bucky’s stomach untwists. “When will you be back?”

“Thursday…” Bucky tries as best he can to muster a confident smile as he holds the key out in his flesh palm. “She just takes dry food, her bag is under the kitchen sink.” Bucky’s breath hitches when your fingers graze his skin. “So… I’ll leave a list, I guess…”

“Or you could text me?” You tug your phone from the pocket in your leggings. “What’s your number?”

He can barely speak. He’s been dying to ask for your number for weeks now and here you are just brazenly offering it up. He takes a solid three seconds to remember the digits, and he rattles them off, watching as you type his name into the little section and add one of those little emoticon things… the sun.

“I just sent you something,” you smile, “so you got mine too.”

Bucky almost pukes. “Okay,” he stutters out, “she’s got food and stuff for now, but just later today…”

“Got it.” You slip your phone back into your pocket. “I gotta get ready for work, but I’m off at six. I’ll pop by and feed her.”

“Thanks.” He swallows thickly. “Really, thank you, it means a lot.”

“It’s no problem.” You swipe your tongue over your lower lip. “Have a safe mission, okay?”

He bows his head, trying as hard as he can to stop from blushing. “I will. Thanks again.”

You close the door, and he turns on his heel, hiding a grin in his coat collar as he heads back to his own apartment.

***

The mission goes easier than either of them thought it would. They’re in and out of Paris in less than forty hours, and they take the opportunity of their “undercover-ness” to scout out a few local shops in search of something good to eat and a few souvenirs for their efforts.

Bucky doesn’t shop for himself beyond food. He has no need for little trinkets. Sam can browse all he wants, but Bucky tries to think of something that you might like. One shop has it all: a ton of Eiffel Tower ornaments, candies, T-shirts… at one point he catches himself sniffing tentatively at a lavender-scented soap bar.

No, no way. Way too personal.

In the end, he settles for a little snowglobe. It’s small enough to fit in his bag, and he makes his purchase while Sam’s still trying on sweatshirts.

They get in late on Thursday night, just as Sam predicted. Bucky sends you a text when they land at the airport, and the Avengers’ private car has them back at the complex in no time at all. The light is on in your apartment when Bucky gets to the fourth floor, and as soon as Sam’s vanished into their apartment, he knocks on your door. It only takes a few seconds to answer, and Bucky’s heart catches in his throat when you open the door, beaming up into his face.

“You’re back early,” you say, smiling widely.

“Yeah, uh… mission went quicker than we thought.” Bucky swallows heavily.

“I just filled Alpine’s bowl an hour ago and cleaned out her litter box,” you reply, almost completely unfazed by his awkwardness, “and I bought her a little catnip plant from work, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, you, uh... “ he clears his throat, “you didn’t have to do that, the litter box, I mean, I—”

“It’s no bother, my mom was a veterinarian, I’ve dealt with way worse.” You fumble for something on the little table behind your left knee and hold up the little bronze key. “You might need this back.”

“Thanks.” Bucky pockets it without really thinking—the touch of your hand on his matters more. “Oh, I got something for you,” he blurts out, unzipping the top pocket of his bag and fishes out the little snowglobe. “Just as… well, a thanks.”

You accept the little trinket, blushing furiously. “I love it,” you reply, “thank you.”

God, Bucky wants to kiss you so bad…

“D’you wanna get coffee?” he asks suddenly. “Or see a movie? That is, if you don’t y’know, have someone already, I don’t wanna intrude.”

If possible, your face flushes even more. “I-I’d like that,” you stammer, “a movie sounds good. Um… when are you free?”

“Saturday?” Bucky shrugs. “The place downtown has cheap tickets on Saturdays.”

You nod. “I… I can do that. I get off work at six again.”

Bucky chews on his lower lip. “I’ll come by for eight?”

“That works.” You smile awkwardly. “I, uh… I should probably let you go get some rest, huh?”

“Yeah.” Bucky takes a step back because if he doesn’t make some space he might just kiss you right then and there. “I can text you, yeah?”

“Totally, yeah.” You run your fingers through your hair and match him, stepping back into the little entryway. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you Saturday, then?”

Bucky nods. “Yeah.”

You close the door, still blushing furiously, and Bucky walks into his apartment thinking of a million ways that could have gone wrong.

“I bet you were smoother than that in ‘43.”

Sam’s standing in the kitchen, smirking as Bucky drops his bag by the door and kicks his boots off.

“Shut up, I’m outta practice.” He shrugs his jacket off and hangs it on the rack. “Did you really hear all that?”

“We’re neighbors, I can hear everything.” Sam grins and pulls fixings for a turkey sandwich from the fridge. “Look, man, you’re trying to fit in. It’s a good thing.”

“I know.” Bucky sighs. “I didn’t even know if she was gonna say yes.”

“Well, she did.” Sam slaps the top layer of bread onto his sandwich and gestures to the plate. “Want one?”

Bucky shakes his head. “If I eat, I’m gonna puke. I’m just gonna go to bed.”

Sam watches him shuffle silently down the hallway and into his room. Alpine’s snoozing on her bed by the window, and she leaps off when Bucky closes the door, eagerly wristing around his ankles and purring happily.

“Hey, girl.” Bucky reaches down to rub his knuckles against the top of her head before changing into a pair of flannel pants. He’s exhausted and stressed, and his chest feels tighter than it should. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he rests his head in his palms, taking long, deep breaths to try and ease the tension. Sensing her master’s distress, Alpine rubs herself against his side, and Bucky only breaks his position to give her a habitual pet across the back before slipping into his bathroom and downing five tablets of melatonin. His system will kick it in within a few minutes, and he slips beneath the covers as Alpine curls up on her designated pillow.

“Everything’s gonna go smooth, right?” he asks. “I can do this. It’s just a girl, nothing to be scared of.”

Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated :)

MARVEL TAGS: @beefcakebarnes @breezy1415 @cosicas-cuquis @mariekoukie6661 @meganwinchester1999 @suz-123

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes reader insert

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justjessame · 4 years

Text

Babysitting Butcher Chapter 32

Life as a human guinea pig is a strange thing. First of all, there's the questions. The same questions over and over, to the point where the machines and medical doodads and the noise that became almost normal for me, but the questions became the irritant of the day.

"How are you feeling today, Dr. Taylor?" As I'd squint into the bright light being forced into my marrow it seemed. A muttered reply from me, and honestly the same answer in varying degrees of annoyance or acceptance depending upon the day and how many times I'd been asked it so far. "Uh huh, and are you feeling warm? Is there tenderness in your abdomen?" While they poked and prodded, testing skin, muscle, bone and eventually blood.

Did you know the average human adult has around 1.2-1.5 gallons of blood which equals roughly 10 units? I know this because I wanted to be certain that I'd have enough after all the blood testing. Research would either be the way I kept sane or what finally pushed me over the ledge into complete madness, mark my words.

Billy visited, as often as he could, and every single time he'd greet the head poker in residence with his own version of the repeated question game. "How is she? What's the bloody progress?" At which I would inevitably check the arm that seemed to be their favorite vessel for bloodletting. "How much longer?" And then he'd meet my gaze and focus his attention on ME, rather than on my medical condition.

Yes, I was calling it a condition. If I let the reality of my situation fully grip me, then I'd scream. And I had moments of it, trust me.

How would you feel if every single time the man you loved walked in and spoke about your person as though you were a petri dish experiment before reminding himself, through sheer force of finally SEEING you, that you were in fact the woman he loved?

Now take that feeling you just got from that scenario and add the annoyingly taunting voice of the caped asshole who caused this whole fucking irritating bullshit situation reminding you that you fell in love with a man for whom hatred of supes is as natural as inhaling. Feeling just a hint of discomfort? Just add the sound of beeping, buzzing, and dripping to remind yourself of the fact that this was all happening while I was being held hostage as a "let's see what happens if we try this mixture to counteract the demon juice flowing through her veins" was tried over and over.

Strained. My nerves, body, and brain felt strained. Even after the feeding tube was gone and Billy could kiss me. Even after I was given the go ahead to work from my hospital bed. Frayed would be a kind way to say how absolutely on edge I felt.

And the worse part? I felt like I was missing something. Something important. Something paramount. Just out of reach and as though, even surrounded by my laptop and notes, something that was keeping me out of an important loop.

The longer that I stayed in the 'undisclosed medical' location, the more that I wanted to be anywhere else in the world. Literally anywhere. I started to yearn for Bolivia and the Black Ops team that had gotten caught up in the web of a rogue agent and 'died' implicated in a massive fuck up of epic proportions.

When a rational woman who knows how the inner workings of other people's brains and behavior follow reliable patterns starts thinking fondly of the heat of a tropical place where she had to wade through more red tape than most people would assume humanly possible to unravel the truth, all while hearing the type of rumors about the men she was trying to clear and resurrect from faked death, then shit has hit epic levels of horrible. It did remind me to contact that team to see how their return to their former lives had worked out, and wonder if their leader had gotten over his own tragic ability to attract murderous women.

I wanted to go further than the small courtyard deemed safe enough for me to explore, and near enough to make them taking me off the dialysis machine after another fun round of 'clean her blood again' reasonable. I wanted to sleep in my own bed and watch television at my discretion without interruptions for another round of the questions and poking I wanted, in short, to be back to normal already.

I might have been empathizing with Billy's urge for the Vought wankers (his word, I swear) to find the magic solution so life could go back to the routine we both wanted a return to. Or I might have been trying to only see the positive outcome, since there was a creeping feeling that maybe, just maybe there wasn't an easy fix or a fix at all.

A month passed, with my cabin fever slowly increasing by the day, and with it my internal and external temperatures. Oh yeah, that's right, I might have forgotten to mention that while the steaming was at bay, now it was just my actual body temperature that would fluctuate and freak every single fucking person all the way out. When Billy said I nearly went "nuclear" he hadn't been joking, apparently I could have fucking exploded like a goddamn human time bomb and I didn't want to consider just how fucking messy that would have been for the janitorial staff.

Finally, maybe because I wanted some type of control about the questioning, I started asking some probing ones of my own. And what I found, when they would meet my eyes and answer me as fully as I wanted, was that that creeping feeling was growing more likely.

The issue wasn't simply that they didn't know which variation of Compound V that Homelander had me infected with, it was that as they broke down the components and addressed each one, my body didn't simply fight their attempts, it attacked itself. The asshole, it would appear, had basically chosen the self destruct version, and it was trickier than any puzzle these 'real doctors' had ever come across. I was truly feeling the confidence of having a toddler performing my brain surgery with this knowledge.

Oh and that wasn't all, even IF they figured out how to 'neutralize' the formula inside of my bloodstrain, then there was a probability that I could pass it on to any future children. Isn't that some kind of amazingly poetic bullshit to hear after you chose to evict a foreign invader from your uterus? That the one stabilizing agent I'd had scraped and dumped was the ONLY one that I would ever get to actually be allowed to experience. Remind me to send Homelander a HUGE fucking thank you card, would you?

Early into my first true consciousness, before I found out just how fucked the pompous dick had made my entire existence, Billy had told me that my parents had visited while I was knocked out. Apparently near death experiences make even the weirdest of families reunite. And mine was no different.

Mom became a regular visitor and I was shocked by how much I started looking forward to her visits. She was strangely comforting, and tried to keep my spirits up, she even made peace with Billy. Dad was less frequent in his contact, but Mom told me it was difficult for him to see me look like a shell of myself.

And I did. I looked like a ghost that's haunting what was left of my body. The feeding tube had kept me nourished, but my muscle mass had suffered from the amount of time I was forced to spend in bed. I was constantly tired, my work hours going from nine to six to an hour here, a few minutes there, and the amount of napping I did would make most house cats jealous. The gowns that I wore hung from my frame, my appetite was scarce and I felt like this was the LONGEST goodbye letter ever to be written.

As the days passed, one merging into the next without me taking stock of how much I missed, how much that puzzle of what I was missing had bothered me early on, the negative ideas started creeping in. Homelander's voice grew louder. His smug question about Billy and me and what my condition would mean for the two of us in the end kept pushing through my attempts to distract myself.

I was sitting in the soft chair they'd brought in for me by the window, staring out and thinking of my options when Billy came in for his visit. I heard him, in the background noise of beeps and whirls, ask his questions. I felt him when he was nearer to me, but my eyes stayed on the 'view'.

He started to greet me, but my mouth opened and the question came out without me thinking about it. "How will you do it?" I watched a leaf, one missed by the obsessive groundskeepers, dance in a breeze I wish I could feel. He was confused, his reflection showed that much. "When you kill me, how will you do it?"

"Veronica," I could hear the pain in his voice, the fear hiding behind it. "I wouldn't-"

"Frenchie then?" I tilted my head considering. "MM? Hughie barely managed to make the choice with-" I stopped and took a breath. "Kimiko?" I sighed and pulled my legs up onto the chair, hugging my knees. "I hear she makes quite a mess of her prey." My voice wasn't loud and it didn't sound anything more than resigned, and I was a little curious. "If you can get Starlight to do it, you could make it seem like self defense? Or," I sighed, and bit my lip, "it would finally give you a reason to take her out too."

"Ronnie, love, that's not gonna-" I turned and he flinched when he saw that I was serious and not the least bit upset. "Ronnie?"

"Billy Butcher, I wrote the book on you." My smile felt wrong to me, but right at the same time. "I know you inside and out, or at least I think I do." I had the research on the flash drive that was hooked into my laptop on the bed. "You are single minded in your focus and your focus has been on eliminating supes from the world for a very long time." I turned back to the window, staring past the view and at the reflection of the room behind me. "It was one of the things I found the most attractive about you, I think. That you could see a goal and pound away until you master it." He sat in the chair close to me, but at a distance far enough that he'd have to work to touch me. "So, how will I die, Billy?"

"You'll die safe and sound, of old age in our bed, Veronica." I smiled sadly at this pipe dream of a fairy tale he wanted so badly to believe. "When you're sick of me, remember?" I could hear how badly he wanted it to be true, how much he wanted to hold me and it to all be a terrible dream.

"Never took you for a nursery rhyme and fairy stories fan," my eyes were still on the window. "This isn't going away, Billy, what he put in me isn't going away. And you will start to look at me like you look at him." My eyes found his, and face to face I wanted to force him to see it. "You will. And then, just like you, Frenchie, and Hughie brainstormed about Translucent and the best way to end him, you'll start to consider my pressure points." I gave a harsh, humorless chuckle. "And the funniest part is that Homelander built mine in for you, all you have to do is take me off the blood cleanse for a day and my own body will do it for you." His eyes tightened at the reminder of how many close calls I'd had. "Oops, I guess I just planned it for you."

"Please don't." He was begging me to let him pretend it wasn't the truth, that he wouldn't lose me too, and because of the same supe as Becca's cause of death. "Don't do this."

I smiled sadly, knowing he knew, even without me telling him, what was going to happen next.

#Billy Butcher x ofc #the boys #angst #alternate universe

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upinthestarsx3 · 5 years

Text

Off Limits (m) part 6

Professor!reader x College student!Jungkook au

Genre: short series|smut|mostly angst|fluff in future|au

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Explicit language, mature content, including some masturbation and voyeurism in this chapter.

Summary: You’re fresh out of college having just received your masters degree in Math. You begin working at a nearby college and meet your headstrong student, Jungkook. After a drunk hookup; things get complicated.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

a/n: It’s been so long. Ugh I just fixed so many typos so apologies to anyone who read before I edited lmao. This chapter was fun to write. Enjoy and sorry i’m so flaky with posting more often!

The drive to Jungkook’s house is a blur. You sped through the main road knowing that he would also be on his way home; it was a race that you had to win.

When you arrive, your fingers run over the smooth keypad; trying every combination that might possibly get you into his fancy high tech building.

“Baby.” You hear someone whisper from behind you, letting out heavy breaths as if he’d just ran a mile.

You don’t need to turn back to know that it’s Jungkook, “Leave me alone.” You demand through pursed lips; your fingers still running rapidly on the keypad.

“You’re going to set off the alarm, y/n.” He speaks up again, his tone stern as he held his keycard in his hand. This time you turn towards him, confused that he used your actual name instead of calling you baby; the nickname you grew to love hearing from him.

“Let me in; I need my things.” Your words spill from your mouth like venom, and your glare holds nothing but disgust in them.

“Not until we talk.” He tells you, instead of asking.

A look of disbelief washes over your face, you place your hands on your hips and shake your head from side to side,

“No! I don’t want to talk. I want my things.”

He lets out a loud exhale as he rolls his eyes,

“Y/N, please stop being dramatic. I’m sorry, okay? Where will you go if you leave tonight?” He grills you, walking towards you to take your hand in his; but you quickly snatch it away, catching him off guard. His hand drops to his side, his eyebrows creasing deeply as he takes his keycard and swipes it for you.

The two of you walk quietly side by side to his front door. He reaches for his keys and pauses for a minute; taking a long look at you with fluttering eyes, and you see that same admiration in them.

“What, Jungkook?” You whine, eyes rolling as you quickly break eye contact with him.

“I love you.” He whispers, “and I don’t want you to leave me.”

“I don’t even think you know what love is,” you reply bluntly. He doesn’t acknowledge your insult as he finally opens the door and allows you to walk inside.

He watches you sadly as you gather your things, sitting at the edge of the bed while rubbing his sweaty palms against his jeans.

“Will you stay if I tell you what happened between me and Taehyung? Is that why you’re upset?”

“If you don’t know why I’m upset then we really have nothing to talk about.”

“You always try to make me seem like the problem, y/n. All I do is treat you well and you drag me along like a fucking rag doll because you know I love you.” He mumbles before he breaks into sobs. It takes all your might to stay put and not rush to his side and embrace him until his sadness passes, but you don’t- you refuse to feed into this any longer.

“I’m not going to let you manipulate me. Not this time, Jungkook.” Standing your ground as you hold several boxes in your hand.

“Everyone always fucking leaves me.” He sounds wounded, broken even. You wonder if he’s been this intense since the two of you first started dating.

You stand awkwardly by the door, silent for a few minutes, debating if you should even say anything at all,

“Hey.” You call out to him.

“Just go.” He croaks, turning his face away from you as his tears continue to flow freely.

“Kookie, look at me. This is not healthy. I’m so sorry that I let it go on; I should have never crossed that line. You are my student, and I am your professor. That is all it will ever be from this point forward.”

He rolls his eyes and gives you an incredulous look,

“Baby, you and I both know we can’t go back to that, not after I’ve been inside you-“

“Stop it.” You cut him off, twisting the door knob to leave before glancing back at him once more, telling him, “I don’t like who you’re becoming.”

Jungkook skipped 3 classes during the week, no emails, no texts, and no calls. The same paranoia that drove you crazy once before, crept its way back in once again. You hand back quizzes to your class, ignoring the awkward glances from both Jimin and Taehyung.

Are you on campus?

You can’t just keep missing classes.

Stop ignoring me! It’s immature.

He reads every message and leaves you read, which only fuels your anger. You continue class with a smile plastered on your face while you glance to your phone every once in a while.

Halfway through class the door swings open, and in walks Jungkook with another female student whom hasn’t been present from class; and they walk in hand in hand. None of them spare any glances your way and you clench your fists tightly by your sides,

“You two think it’s okay to just walk into class 35 minutes late and not even apologize?” You practically growl.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. I was distracted, it won’t happen again!” Mina apologizes sincerely. Not that it made you feel any better. You look to Jungkook and raise your eyebrows, waiting for him to explain himself.

“What?” He snaps loudly, embarrassing you as the group of students look from him to you, waiting for your response.

“See me after class,” you reply, turning your back to everyone and facing the board to finish the problem on the board.

“Or what?” He sarcastically talks back, “You’ll punish me?”

You snap your head towards his direction a shocked expression as you watch him lick his lips with low sultry looking eyes- all while having his arm around Mina.

Glancing to your phone you see that it’s 20 minutes too early to end class, but end it anyway,

“Have a good weekend, guys. Remember, midterms next week; I’ll email you all an exact date this weekend.”

Students quickly dart from their seats and out of the classroom, excited for the weekend, presumably.

“Jungkook, I told you to stay after class.” You demand, staring daggers through him. He rolls his eyes dramatically and tells Mina he would text her later.

“Why are you acting like this?” You ask in a small voice, looking away from him and towards the floor.

He stands there and stares down at you, a stoic expression on his face,

“Why am I acting like this? You mean getting together with someone that will actually appreciate me?”

“I meant why are you missing classes, showing up late, and being rude to me in front of everyone.” Of course you were upset about him dating Mina, but you’d never admit that to him. This seems to bother him, his face turning into one of confusion.

“Fuck you, y/n.”

“No fuck you, asshole! I’m so sick of you and your childish games.”

The two of you stand there, arguing in low voices to avoid being heard, like two children.

A knock on the door makes the both of you jump about two feet apart,

“Oh, I’m glad to see the two of you here.” Jin smiles, “y/n, the art competition is on Monday at 7pm, don’t forget. It’s right on campus, first floor in the art building. Jungkook, I’m expecting some great work for the art show from you.” He doesn’t wait for a response before he waves and walks off.

Jungkook begins walking towards the door without another word. This was something you were not used to at all, you had grown accustomed to him always being the one to apologize, admit he’s wrong, and ask for another chance- never did you think he would stop,

“Wait!” You yell out, “I left some things at your house, I’m gonna need to pick them up.” You continue, your voice much lower than before.

“I’ll be with Mina tonight, but you can get them tomorrow night.” He walks out without a goodbye, a smile, or an I love you, and it breaks your heart.

You arrive to the motel you’ve called home for the past week, lying in bed and allowing yourself to finally cry, weeks and weeks of emotions building up, only to be uncaged as you sit on a bed in an empty room, filled with nothing but an 80s style tv and a dresser that had cat claw marks engraved in it.

Grabbing your phone and looking through your contacts you scroll through names of people you haven’t spoken to since college, only stopping when you find Jungkook’s name, labeled as, Kookie.

The phone rings twice before it goes right to voicemail, signaling that he ignored it; which only made you cry more. You quickly begin sending texts to his phone back after back, unconcerned that he would be with his rebound.

“Please talk to me.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I am sorry!”

“Kookie..”

“Please don’t do this to me.”

A half hour passes, and you find yourself walking to nearest place that could get you blackout drunk. You were unbothered that you were now in a bar occupied by drunk young adults no older than 30. You’re too busy impatiently calling the bartender over and asking for three shots, all for yourself, and throwing them back before asking for another round.

“Geez, y/n. Slow down, wait, I can call you y/n, right? Since we’re not on campus?” Jimin’s voice sounds alarms in your head as you turn slowly towards him.

“Just fucking great.” Is your nice way of greeting him back and you place your head in your hands.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, we’re not on campus. Everything okay with Jungkook?” He asks, making your eyes widen and you cringe,

“Please don’t do that, don’t- don’t ask about him. It’s weird.”

“Okay, fine. How about a shot? My treat? I still feel really bad about the whole Taehyung situation.”

You contemplate asking about Jungkook and Taehyung, wondering why they hated each other so much when they apparently used to be like brothers.

“Fine, shots. Your treat.” You smile, still a little uncomfortable, but not enough to turn down free liquor.

“y/n! y/n! Are you okay?” You hear Jimin’s voice echoing as you try to gain your balance, you haven’t drank this much since you turned 21. If you were being honest, you were more of a wine drinker and hated clear liquor.

“I’m fine.” you slur. Smiling his way and ignoring his worried glances.

Towards the back you see a group of people playing beer pong, and you quickly run to join them; Jimin tries to grab your arm but you pull away and walk over to the man who needed a partner.

It wasn’t like you to meet strangers in the bar- hell, bars weren’t even your thing. But here you were, lying on the bar table with your shirt lifted preparing for body shots with your beer pong partner after winning two games in a row.

You soak in the feeling of this man sucking liquor from your stomach and licking his way down to your hips, humming as began leaving kisses there.

You turn your head to glance around the bar, suddenly worried that Jimin might be watching. Instead, you’re met with Jungkook’s wicked eyes. His arms crossed over his chest as he raises his eyebrows accusingly. You quickly jump up from your lying position and push the man away from you as you walk to the door,

“Koo-“

“Don’t talk me, y/n.” He hums defeatedly, helping you to his car and buckling you in,

“Jimin called me and told me you were out of control.”

“I was fine!” You lash out, who did Jimin think he was? Calling Jungkook on you?

He ignores you the rest of the way, and takes you straight to his apartment complex.

“Go brush your teeth. You stink like liquor.”

Pouting at his insult you run into the bathroom, opting to take a shower as well.

“Kookie, please bring me a towel.”

He walks into the bathroom and throws the towel on the counter from the doorway, not even darting his eyes your way. He goes to walk back out and you comment,

“Want to come in?” A hopeful tone in your voice,

“No.” And he slams the door behind him.

His bad attitude made you wish you were back at your lonely motel, he doesn’t want anything to do with you and it tears you apart. The both of you lie in the same bed but he lies down a foot away from you, lying on his back and staring up the ceiling.

“Kookie.” You whisper, turning on your side and reaching out for him. You reach his arm and prepare for him to pull away, but he doesn’t. Sure enough, you slowly scoot your way towards his warm body, and as if it’s instinct, he wraps his arms around you. You don’t dare say anything to ruin this moment, he loves you, and you were beginning to think you loved him back.

In the morning you wake up to an empty bed, your head feels as though it’s weighed down by bricks and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“There’s medicine and water on the night stand, I’m making breakfast. You need to eat.” He smiles softly, the smile doesn’t reach his eyes but it’s a good start.

“Thanks.” Is all you’re able to get out, afraid you might say the wrong thing and set him off.

It stays that way the entire morning, quiet but content. No words are ever needed between the two of you. It was like you spoke through touching, through facial expressions, and through helpful gestures.

You watch him sit in front of his drawing canvas, the stress on his face makes you upset for him. He had only two days to finish his art exhibit work- and he hasn’t even started.

“I don’t know what to do,” he explodes, making you jump from your position on the bed,

“Why don’t you draw a portrait of your dad, you’d automatically win, no one will turn down a school president portrait.

“Shut up.” He laughs; the soft wrinkles near his eyes make your heart melt.

“Maybe you just need some motivation,” you say, standing up from the bed, walking towards him before you stand in front of him, attempting to sit in his lap but he pushes you back down on the bed.

“Seriously? After last night you’re going to try that?”

“Jungkook, how many times do I have to say I’m sorry! I wasn’t myself last night.”

“You haven’t said sorry at all, y/n.” He’s clearly frustrated and you know you’ve screwed up whatever nice moment the two of you were having.

“If you were pleasing me than I wouldn’t have to find it somewhere else.” You snarl. His eyes shoots from his canvas and he purses his lips,

“Then you should learn to please yourself.” He grills you, waiting for another smart comment to come from your lips,

“I don’t- I’ve never done that. I mean, I’ve touched myself but I’ve never-“

“Really?” He questions, a surprised look on his face as he loses interest in the canvas.

“You can teach me.” You beg, pulling his hand and guiding it to the crotch of your shorts, he moves his chair and kneels in front you, rubbing you through the thin material, listening to you let you soft moans. Just as quickly as he started, he stops.

“What the hell.” You meant to yell, but it still comes out as light moan.

“I wanna see you touch yourself.” He bites his lip before sitting back down in front of you.

“Take of your shorts baby.” He guides you, watching your every move. You listen to him, taking it off quickly and throwing it across the room. You reach for your panties but you hear him speak,

“No. You listen to what I tell you to do.” Your eyes light up and you nod your head quickly.

“Pull your panties to the side, I wanna see your pussy.” He shifts in his seat and moves a little closer. Your run your fingers over your slit covered by a laced thong before moving the thin material to the right side.

“What next.” Squirming in your place begging for instruction to please your throbbing womanhood.

“Run a finger between your lips, baby.”

You quickly swipe a finger all the way up to your clit but he smirks,

“Slower.” Dragging out the word, and leaning in to get a better look,

“So pretty.” You look up at him with a smile and see that he’s already palming himself through his jeans,

“Touch your clit. Flick it a little bit, it’ll feel good.” He reassures.

Bringing your index finger to your clit you graze it lightly and arch your back in pleasure, feeling you pussy get wetter.

You look up at him expectantly and see that he’s drawing; looking between you and his canvas. You quickly squeeze your legs shut and sit up,

“What are you doing?”

“Drawing.” He answers as though it’s no big deal.

“Yes I know what you’re doing but- but-“

“No one will know it’s you. Has anyone ever seen you like I have? Naked? Legs spread open? You touch yourself for anyone else other than me?”

“No.”

“So nothing to worry about, open your legs.” He comforts you lovingly,

“Now show me how you finger yourself, baby. Show me how you please yourself.” His words alone make you moan and you find yourself begging for him to finish you off, he doesn’t of course. This was your lesson- your payback for last night.

“Oh gosh,” you squeal, your hips circling as you continued to finger yourself,

“Rub your clit with your other hand.” He murmurs. You quickly place your hand over your clit and rub it at a fast pace while fucking yourself with three fingers.

You hadn’t realized how long you’ve been at this until you see his finished canvas pushed to the side and his hand wrapped around his cock as he moves his tight grasp up and down.

“Fuck me, Kookie.” You whine, fingers still rubbing your clit, your body shaking.

“Apologize.” He commands, just like you demanded of him the night at the strip club, the first night you two got together.

“Apologize!” He demands a little louder this time, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I’m sorry.” You agreed, leaning up to pull him closer. He pushes you back on the bed for a second time tonight and crawls over you. Placing an elbow next to your head and the other on his cock to guide himself inside of you.

Sex with Jungkook tonight was the opposite of what you were used to. He was slow, gentle even. Allowing his body to completely mold with yours and feeling every part of your body.

“I love you,” he declares,

“I know.”

He picks up the pace, smiling down at you and watching your eyes roll back with each thrust. His moans were driving you mad and clenched around his dick, something you did when you were about to cum. He throws your legs over his shoulders and takes a hold of your upper thighs, using them to grip you as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. You can feel him pulsating inside of you,

“Cumming.” He breathes heavily, eyes squeezed shut,

“Fuck.” He looks shocked to see you still writhing beneath him.

As soon as he releases you, you push his head lower until he’s facing your cunt. Without waiting for instruction he licks a strip up your pussy, enjoying your reaction. You run fingers through his hair and tug harshly at the strands.

His tongue pokes through and begins toying with your clit, pausing every once in a while to shove his tongue inside of you. “Oh god, Kookie.” You scream as you cum, trying to push his head away as he continues to suck your juices.

“I love you.” You finally admit as the two of you lie in bed together. He slowly looks your way with a large smile, looking just as drained as you were. He pulls you in and kisses you softly.

“Sorry to break it to you, but I’m with Mina now.” You slap his chest and the two of you break out in giggles.

“Shut up!” You complain with a smile. Your laughs die down eventually and he looks at you, a serious look in eyes as he proceeds,

“No more games, baby. I’m yours and you are mine.”

a/n: The story is on an indefinite hiatus.

masterlist is here

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imaginesandideas · 6 years

Text

Versace on the floor

this is my veeery overdue entry to @queens-n-roses 2k challenge! congrats dear 🖤 you truly deserve it!!

before we’ll get to it, I wanted to apologise for my recent lack of new content. I’ve had a lot of trouble passing last semester and I think I’m still trying to figure out how to cope with the aftermaths of it all. hopefully it’ll change soon though.

ANYWAY - this one is inspired by Versace On The Floor by Bruno Mars (listening and/or checking out the lyrics is very recommended here). The dress that I had in mind as I was writing, is Atelier Versace, Fall 1995 (as pictured above). Could be read as both Roger and BoRhap Roger, it’s all up to you loves❣️though not gonna lie, that I had late 70′s Roger in mind 👀👀👀

word count: 3,154 (yeah.jpg)

WARNINGS: SMUT (fingering, edging, just the regular), and some swearing; do not read if you’re under 18 please!!!

~~~~~

Funny how the right dress can make one feel so bold, so unstoppable, so desired. And that’s the way you were feeling that night.

You were looking and feeling like absolute goddess.

How did Roger got it last minute for you remained a mystery, but you were in no way complaining.

How could you. It’s Versace after all.

“You ready?” you heard him yell from the hall as you examined yourself in the mirror.

The gown was utterly mesmerising.

Essentially it was made from thousands strings of diamonds sewn on by hand one next to the other, thicker around the chest but more even as it went further down, leaving just a little to imagination. Tight around your torso, yet descending loosely at the length of your legs. Perfect in every detail. As if it was taken out of your dreams.

As for the accessories, you opted for simple beige ankle strap stilettos - something that wouldn’t cause distraction from your breathtaking gown but would still look great. You were wearing your hair loose, in smooth waves to add a bit of old-age Hollywood chic. For makeup, you focused on giving special attention to your eyes with thick, cat winged eyeliner in addition to matte lipstick in a shade of deep mauve. And a dash of silvery highlighter on your cheekbones.

Again - simple and sexy. Perfect for your well planned party outfit.

Your gaze fell to the corner of your bed where your fur coat was laid out waiting to add final touch of glamour to the look. It was your most favourite one. Roger bought it somewhere during the tour as a gift for you, and you cherished it like your greatest treasure since. That is, until you’ve found the sparkly Versace dress hanging in the middle of your wardrobe 2 hours ago and immediately fell in love.

You let yourself drown in the folds of your fur, before spraying some perfume on your neck.

Chilly feeling of the liquid running down your chest to the valley between your breasts sent a shiver down your spine. Tonight was about to be great and you could already feel it.

Holding your favourite clutch bag close, you stepped out of the room, closing the door behind you. Turning on your heels, you head to the stairs before joining Roger in the hall where he was all dressed up and waiting. Upon hearing your steps he came to see you.

Of course he was impatient. When he first had seen the dress in the window display, he was convinced that he had to get it for his girl.

What he was seeing completely took his breath away.

In the warm light from chandelier above, you looked like a piece of art, like a shining crystal. His adam’s apple bobbed uncontrollably which you did not miss as you looked down from the top of the stairs.

You’ve never been overly insecure, only given a good reason to, one being surrounded by women of elite level of beauty. But that wasn’t happening tonight, because now you were feeling utterly divine. The only thing missing was a crown, but who needed that ridiculous emblem when you’re living with Roger goddamn Taylor of Queen.

“Fuck, doll.” you heard him mutter under his breath, raspiness of his voice making it sound more like a bold statement. “You look like-“

“A dream?”

“Fuck if only.”

You were almost sliding off the stairs at this point, making your moves as feline and slow as possible, only prolonging his suffering. By the time you stepped on the last step, his leather trousers became painfully tight and his mouth pretty much watered. What a sight it was to watch him so out words to say. The sparkly outfit fitted you so well it nearly looked as if it blended into your skin. You truly were a walking jewel, gleaming with your every motion. The things you did to him by simply looking like that made you feel even more fierce, vain even.

You felt his arms sneak expertly underneath your soft fur before tugging you closer to him, closing the distance between the two of you just enough to feel his hot breath on your neck. Your hips met his own in a sharp crash of bodies but he didn’t stop there. He glanced down again, admiring you all the way from your toes, through your ankles and up your legs, stopping just for a second to let out a dreamy sigh upon seeing nude, lace panties you were wearing underneath the semi see-through material of your dress. With a sharp and a bit exaggerated intake of air, his eyes continued to wander further up, feeding your growing vanity.

The images of what he wanted to do to you, matched his desperate touches. His fingers were cold in comparison to your fur heated body as he dug them into your skin, making you gasp.

“You really are a dream. Wet one if you’d ask me.” You chuckled at his exclamation, placing a hand on his neck, your nails scratching lightly and leaving pinkish marks on his already flushed skin.

“Roger Taylor, do I look like your wet dream?” you teased tilting your head. Your neck looked so inviting, as if it was made for leaving bite marks. Skin gleaming with peachy like glow both from the light of chandelier above you, and the way it worked with diamonds of your dress.

“Like wet dream coming true, love. Twirl around for me.” And you did as you were told, making your hair fly up a little, mussing it ever so slightly. Roger’s hands didn’t leave your sides the entire time, only lowered to the level of your hips to slide smoothly over your bum while you were turning on your heels.

“Maybe we should just call it a day and stay at home instead, huh?”

“Roger!”

“What?” You sighed trying to get out of his grasp, but his grip tightened bringing you even closer, signalling you how hard he’s gotten.

“All this dressing up for nothing?”

“Not for nothing darling.” He whispered in your ear, his breath sending pleasant sensation down your neck and shoulders, as he began to slowly expose your front. Hand moving to the small of your back, the other sliding the fur coat off your shoulder. Peppering every newly exposed inch of skin with hot, open mouthed kisses, he hasn’t given you a slightest chance to shiver with coolness coming from the half-open balcony doors.

His clever fingers made their way up your spine to the top of the zipper while continuing to work on your neck and cleavage, earning a series of involuntary moans. Just as he began to pull it down, your hand shot up to his neck, yanking by his hair in a state of sugary-sweet oblivion. Groan escaped his lips and he nipped more harshly at the skin on your collarbone, leaving reddish marks to cover up later. The zip came to an end right above the curve of your ass, and he had to fight the urge to let his hands wander further down. He had better plans in mind.

Slowly, in so Roger-like torturous manner, he slid the coat off completely, your hand bag hitting the floor with a loud thud before disappearing underneath the folds of fur. Though you really couldn’t care less. You were gradually loosing yourself in his firm yet lingering touches, his tempting words of pure affection, his seductive voice and gaze that could easily burn you alive if you’d only allow him to. Yes, you were a queen, but he could never give away the sheer exhilaration of having you so melted under mere touch of his fingertips.

Being in control was his forte, and the chances that he’d let such opportunity slide were close to none.

“Rog...” you almost begged through breathy series of sighs. “S-stop teasing.”

He only chuckled to place few more wet kisses along your jaw before locking your eyes with his own. The smug on his face was more than evident. Eyes hooded, he admired his work which consisted of your rosy cheeks, a bit smudged lipstick, parted lips, pleading gaze and deliquescent form. You were no longer a walking diamond. Now, you were melting, and one could say that you were the one persuading the other to stay in.

“God, I love that dress.” His grip on your waist loosened, fingers tracing up and down your sides. “But you won’t need it anymore.”

You bit your lip in anticipation, your own fingers coming to rest on his chest. You all but touched the bare skin underneath it, sneaking your fingers between the buttons, but he grabbed your wrist. Inching closer to let his words affect you even more, he spoke again.

“Take it off princess. Take it off for me.”

You took a sharp breath, your gaze suddenly dropping to the ground as he leaned away ever so slightly to give you more space. The expression on your face didn’t go unnoticed to Roger. The shameless rouge of your cheeks turned into bright red blush against the fading shade of your face.

„Hey, hey! Eyes on me.” Roger brought his index finger underneath your jaw in an attempt to regain your attention. All of sudden your previous confidence was gone and replaced by slight feeling of insecurity, so unexpected in such circumstances. “You’re beautiful in it, not because of it, okay? I’ve seen all of you already, and everything’s perfect. Versace or no Versace.” he exclaimed rubbing your cheek with his thumb. His stare was unavoidable and slowly, the concern filled look on your face softened as you noticed his genuine smile. “That’s my girl.”

Finally relaxing with lips pursed together, you put your hands behind your own back. As you slid off one strap, Roger figured out a better backdrop for what was about to come and led you by the hand to the end of a sofa.

“Wait here.”

“Roger where are you going?”

“Wait!” he repeated dismissing you with a raise of his hand before backing to the other room. You overheard him swear a couple times as sounds of desperate rummaging in the cupboards grew louder, until you could make out a content “finally” and he was back with a few candles. Within a matter of seconds he lit up the candles, switched the light off and jumped back onto the piece of furniture in front of your amazed form, waiting eagerly for you to continue.

“Don’t mind me.” he all but whispered as he propped on his elbows and leaned head on the back of the couch, legs spreading wide apart and grin plastered all over his features, accentuating wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. You rolled your eyes but smiled nevertheless. Biting your lip suggestively, you let your hands return to the business. While your fingers skimmed over your shoulders torturously, his eyes didn’t leave your figure. He didn’t stop watching even when he struggled to get out pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his jacket. Smoke filled your vision as eyed you from underneath his thick eyelashes. He was getting visibly charged, stare full of lust and longing. And it only motivated you to keep the game going.

As the first strap was down, the other instantly following, you found yourself unhurriedly scooting the material off, careful not to ruin the dress. Your hips leisurely swaying as if to help your actions, but both of you knew that wasn’t the reason. You wanted him on the edge.

And he was, his hips shifting impatiently in the seat, drags of cigarette smoke more abrupt with every passing minute. So when you leaned forward, your nipples hardened from crisp of the night air, and licked your top lip, hands continuously sliding the dress further down your hips, he could barely contain himself before he’d throw the fag on the floor and pull you onto his lap. Fumbling with his belt buckle, he swallowed hard almost choking on remains of his cigarette. Now it was you watching him trying get out off his unfortunate choice of pants to stroke his already painfully hard cock. You let out a moan yourself at the sight of him groaning with eyes shut closed, fingers sliding up and down his length with ease thanks to fair amount of precum.

„Stop staring and c’mere.” you didn’t even realize how long you’ve been standing in your underwear only, since gown seemingly had slid off completely some time ago. Roger was peering at you from his semi-laying position opposite you, movements of his hand getting more sluggish. You could only obey as he put the cigarette on coffee table, and held out a hand for you to take it. Straddling him you let your hands rest atop of his chest before starting to unbutton the silky-like shirt. Meanwhile he continued trying to get himself ready, groans leaving his lips every now and then. You only unbuttoned the last button and he was already shrugging both the shirt and jacket off his shoulders to rapidly grab you by your hips, closing the space between your bodies with a heated kiss. You gasped into his mouth feeling his cock pressing to your clothed centre, thin fabric of your knickers now far too impermeable for your liking.

Roger sensed your needs and moved stripe to the side to slide two fingers inside your aching core. It was nearly too much after being teased for so long, and your back arched in pleasure. You’ve felt your inner muscles tense when he added some pressure to your swollen clit with his thumb. Your mouth fell open to let out a breathless moan. Roger watched you in complete awe as you unraveled on his lap, while all he did was use his digits. He was absolutely fired up then, stroking his aching cock as you continued fucking yourself on his fingers. But that’s not how that would go, no. In a brisk, you felt empty again as he switched hands on his shaft to jerk himself off more. Coating his member with your hot juices, he let out a throaty moan.

„Tosser.” his closed eyes shot up at your exclamation. You had your arms crossed over your chest and pouted. “That’s not really fair, y’know.”

His toothy grin widened in the dark before he bit his bottom lip. He was truly enjoying himself.

„Ride me.”

„What was that?”

„Ride me like you mean it.” you examined his face for signs of hoaxing but found none. He was dead serious, his eyes flickering with lust in the dim light of candles. You licked your lips again, teeth grazing over your bottom lip and stood up to discard the damp piece of underwear you should’ve lost long ago. Stepping forward, you left your stilettos on the floor next to your panties and knelt, placing your hands on either side of his head on the back of the sofa. Nails scraped at the suede material in a shade of dark chocolate and Roger shivered before swallowing, his eyes wide like marbles, only darker, like sapphires.

Slowly, Roger impatiently guiding his member, you sunk down onto him, pleasant feeling of fullness sweeping over you. The skin on your neck streched so much one could count all the veins, as you threw your head back in ecstasy.

Roger tensed under your weight and let out a guttural moan. His hands shot up to your hips, forcing you to move.

“J-just like that. Doing so well.”

You set up a steady pace but with every passing second your moves were becoming more greedy, more eager. You closed your eyes, focusing on the bare pleasure. Roger’s grip on your sides loosened to eventually disappear, though you were too engrossed in your own actions to care. Hearing a familiar noise you looked down to find Roger lighting up another cigarette, like it was nothing. Upon seeing your frown he muttered a quick “Please continue.” before he took a deep drag. As if to motivate you, his thumb found its way back to your clit. A cloud of smoke was blown in your direction as your thighs shook with a shock of pleasure coming from between your legs. Now you really were riding him, your knuckles whitened from grasping at the sofa and breaths short while you jumped up and down his shaft, almost slipping off a few times in the process.

Your movements were hectic, insatiable even. Roger’s thumb was continuously rubbing circles around your throbbing point, puffs of smoke making the whole image appear even more elated, in otherworldly kind of way. He was motivated to make you come, and it didn’t take you long until your walls were clenching, wettness dripping down onto his lap. He was close, the cigarette suddenly bothering him enough to throw it somewhere on the floorboards. You felt him shudder.

But you could no longer hold back a deep moan that left your mouth, stopping you mid movement. Pure bliss covered your vision and your hands moved down to Roger’s chest, leaving reddened trails in the process.

Your eyelashes were like a curtain, falling quickly after the show, hiding your onyx-like, dark, dilated pupils. All you could hear was Roger’s breathless praises and the blood thumping loudly in your ears. He sat up and you could feel his hips snap up with such force to meet his approaching orgasm. Holding you close, his hands travelling down your bare back, small beads of sweat running down his hairline and forehead. He started kissing and nibbling down your chest fiercely. And then he came, biting on your nipple, greedy hands tangled in your hair, mouth opening as he spurted his hot cum on your senstive walls. His body trembled as he emptied himself completely, his seed mixed with your own cum pouring onto his trousers. Your muscles finally begun to relax, but you stayed in his arms nevertheless, both too tired and content to do so.

He kissed your shoulder tenderly, only now noticing the purple mess he’s made of your skin. Not that he was ashamed of course. He always enjoyed seeing you trying - and failing, to cover his lovemarks.

“Mine.” He breathed, fingers tracing lazy circles on your back as your head rested in the crook of his neck. You extended your arm to place your hand on his cheek lovingly. Roger’s blues returned to yours with a soft smirk and he placed a kiss to the inside of your palm, following by a series of pecks on each of your fingertips.

“Still regret staying in?” He teased earning a huff from you.

“So t’was all? I thought you’ve had more in you.”

His chest vibrated with a laugh.

“All snotty now, aye? Don’t worry, we just getting started love.”

~~~~~

oooof, hope it’s not as bad as I thought

Comments, ideas and words of notice are always appreciated 💜 lmk if you’d like to be on/off the general Roger taglist 🙌🏻

taglist: @rogersdrumkit @rogersfalsettos @erinhardytaylor @cyborgfromthesupermarket @sabbrriiinnaa @wolverinesbeer @simplyvictoria-93 @laubluered @ceruleanrainblues @shae-is-not-ok @i-am-sarah @imamazzellhoe @shishterfackisback @rogerstambourinee @rockyroadthepastryarchy @tanya-is-dead @twistingrealityagain

#qnr2kchallenge #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor #roger taylor x you #roger taylor fic #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor smut #borhap #queen fanfiction #queen fic #roger meddows taylor #full fic

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rhabakoli · 5 years

Text

Infinite White - 9

previous chapters here

Taglist: @dreamwritesimagines @i-am-always-famished @marauderskeeper @superwolfchild-fan @m00nlightdelights @cgn-99 @alicedopey @alwaysadreamingoptimist @atlas-of-the-world @finnickfoxes @rmwest9

He stood in front of the mirror, pulling at his shirt, feeling ridiculous and not comfortable at all. “Are you okay?” Ragnar jumped, heart tripling its efforts. “Can you knock?” Aslaug stood behind him, arms crossed and looked him up and down. Bear sat to her feet, big, pink tongue lolling out of his mouth. She was wearing a gorgeous green knit-sweater. He didn’t get it. “How do you women always look so effortlessly flawless?” “Because we are.” She came closer and picked a hair from his shoulder. “What has you all worried?”

“I’m not worried.” He didn’t have to look at her to know the face she was making. “You’re standing in front of the mirror, apparently going through your whole closet, for a family dinner? There’s something going on.” She gestured towards his bed, covered in shirts and sweaters and dress shirts he’d have to iron once again. “There’s not.” “Oh.” Aslaug grinned, mischievous smirk on her face. “Fenja’s coming?” “Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?” Ragnar knew she wouldn’t buy it. He still tried the path of denial. “Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you.” She turned, shoved at his clothes to make some place for herself on his bed. “So, is it a crush, a squish, do you want to marry her and raise a bunch of cats?” “What the hell is a squish?” “A platonic crush. Like, you want to be friends really bad, etcetera.” Ragnar made an understanding sound and grabbed a dark grey long sleeve. “You’re going to wear that, it looks nice.” His sisters tone didn’t allow for objection. Bear barked at him, tail wagging wildly. Ragnar looked between them and shrugged. “If you say so.”

Fenja stood before her closet, hands on her hips and deep frown on her face. Maeve was watching her from her bed, concerned about the unmoving state of her friend. “Are you okay?” “No. What do I wear? “ “What’s the plan?” Maeve knew that Gala was Ragnars aunt, and she knew that she wanted to meet her friend. She hasn’t been at the lecture, but the breathless, borderline hysteric phone call was telling enough. “Family dinner.” “Oh wow. Sounds… a lot?” Fenja waved a hand through the air, a dismissive motion. “Nah, they are cool. It’s just… I’ve met Bree, and she’s awesome. But not Gala. And I am nervous. I mean, Gala Ragnarsson, for fucks sake!” “She’ll will love you. I mean, they basically adopted you already, didn’t they?” “Bjorn welcomed me to the family, if that’s what you mean.” Maeve grinned, and shook her head slightly. “Totally. That’s totally what I mean. Also, just call Ragnar, he’ll help, I’m sure.”

Ragnar’s phone rang, sending him into a frenzy. It was buried somewhere under his pillows, and he threw them off the bed in rapid succession, to get to it. “Fenja, if you call to cancel, we have a problem.” “Not cancelling, still having a problem.” “Why, what’s up?” “I don’t know what to wear.” He stopped pacing, thinking he misheard. “What?” “I don’t know, should I wear something fancy, is it going to be more casual?” “Fenja-” “I slept through the last friday night dinner, I’d be the last one to know about any dress codes.” “Fenja-” “Also, your aunt? I don’t want her first impression to be that I am a slob. Or a wannabe rich trust fund kid that wears a robe for a casual dinner with family.” “Fenja-” “Granted, not my family, but whatever. Same principle:” She was unstoppable. She was ranting, going on about her dress choices, what felt okay, and what felt over the top to her. “Will there be any red sauce?” “I don’t know, I don’t think so. Why?” “I’ll not wear any white or light colors then.” Ragnar just sat, elbows on his knees and listened, answering questions on the odd occasions she let him speak. “I’m coming to pick you up, alright? I’ll be there in half an hour.” “Don't expect me to be dressed by then.”

Maeve snorted at her roomies words. “Poor fool will imagine you in your underwear.” “Oh shut up, he won't.”

True to her words, she wasn't dressed, when he arrived. Their portier let him up, and Maeve opened the door for him. “Hi, giant. How's life?” “Exciting, thank you. And you?” “Oh, lot's of brain and body exertion. But I've got just one exam left. I'm almost free.” Ragnar laughed at her little happy dance and looked around the dorm room. “Where's Fenja?” “Taking a shower.” Maeve sat down cross-legged on her bed and gestured Ragnar to do the same. He did, leaning back against the wall, left hand rubbing over his knee as he took in Fenja’s side of the room. Her desk was laden with papers, her laptop, pens strewn everywhere. The shelf above her desk was almost giving out with the amount of books resting there. They were everywhere. Under her bed, on her closet, she even used a tower of them as nightstand. “You'll need to get a bigger room, if she continues buying books.” Maeve chuckled, sorting through the papers in her lap. “No kidding. I have to thank you for letting her go wild in your library, by the way. Keeps her from buying.” “My pleasure. That way I can at at least try and feed her healthy meals.” She looked up, amused. “You noticed, eh?” He nodded. “She polishes off a family bag of nachos like it's a light snack.” “Oh, you haven't seen her chips eating habits yet.” At his questioning expression, she grinned. “Cream cheese and vinegar chips.” “I'm friends with a monster.” “I feel like I should have warned you, but you seemed quite stubborn when you were chasing after Fenja, so I didn't.” “I didn't chase after Fenja?” His tone was so adorably confused, she almost believed him. “Sure you didn't.” Then she threw her papers at him. “Test me, I need to know this in my sleep.”

Fenja barged in, door banging against the wall, her hands in her unruly hair, trying to tame it as she's holding her towel in her mouth, a crazed look in her eyes. When she found her friends on Maeves bed, she froze. “Hi?” Ragnar wriggled his fingers at her and continued to question Maeve about different, commonly occuring sport injuries and their causes and treatments. Fenja gave up on her hair, took the towel out her mouth and threw it on her bed. “What you doing?” “He's testing my knowledge for this godforsaken exam I have.” Maeve pointed at her, eyes all squinty, accusing tone in her voice: “How dare you keep such an amazing study buddy for yourself?” Fenja frowned. “I did ask you multiple times to join us-” “I feel betrayed!” “It was your own choice!” “You TRAITOR!”, She screeched, at the top of her lungs. Fenja rolled her eyes and gave up. Instead she turned her attention to Ragnar, who was looking comically big on their tiny dorm beds, and who had a weird mix of amusement and desperation on his face. “This okay?” He blinked a couple times, clueless, like a little racoon dropping its cotton candy into a puddle. When he didn't answer, Fenja repeated her question, while waving her hand up and down in front of her body. She was wearing jeans, a thin, knitted sweater, oxfords. “Oh, uh, yeah, great.” He cleared his throat, smiled at her. “Okay then. Let’s go.” She took her bag, and went out the door, calling back to Maeve. “Bye, idiot!”

“Hey, Mum.” Queenie looked up, at her youngest standing in the kitchen. “Hey, Sweetie. Everything alright?” “Yeah, they’re here.” She rolled her eyes. “They are so disgustingly cute, I swear I’m gonna barf. And they don’t even have a clue.” Ingrids mother laughed at her daughters exasperated tone. “How’s Ginger, by the way?” Instantly, Ingrid became pouty and defiant. “That’s completely different.” “Is it?” “Yes. She’s my actual girlfriend, mom.” Ingrid raised her chin, giving her mother a playful stinky eye. “And she’s fine. Her internship is going great and she misses me.” “I’m sure. Now take the salads and put them on the table, please.”

Dinner was going great. They were all here, Bear was snoozing under the table and warming their feet, their bellies were full and Ragnar even considered opening a button. He shouldn’t have eaten that second bowl of potato salad, he’d known it. Next to him was Fenja, deeply immersed in a conversation with his aunt, who willingly answered all her questions and then proceeded to squeeze all her favourite books and authors out of his friend. Not that she was troubled by it, quite the opposite. He was fairly sure the two of them would vanish into the library at some point that evening. A hand touched his shoulder, and he turned to his right, towards Aslaug. “You gonna tell her?” “What?” “That you’re in puppy love with her?” Ragnar tensed. Aslaug should be very happy about her superior whispering abilities, otherwise she’d be dead meat. “What are you talking about?” “Oh, again?” She flicked his ear. “Just do it, oh god.” “No. And I won’t talk about this anymore.”

Their mother rose, hand clutched in her husbands, and asked for attention. “Seeing, as all the people we love and cherish are here tonight, we don’t want to wait any longer with this. Also, the cake needs another minute.” Forgotten was Ragnars crush. This sounded important and probably life changing. Ivar smiled sweetly up at his wife, kissing her hand and pressing the back of it against his cheek, in silent support. Fenja shrinked in her seat, feeling overwhelmed and out of place by Queenies words, but Ragnar wasn’t having it. He seeked out her hand and intertwined their fingers, stroking over the back of her hand, winking at her. “This hasn’t been planned, we’d not have waited 15 years if it was.” Fenjas eyebrows shot up, a suspicion already forming. Queenie stole a last look at her husband, then looked at her family. “I am pregnant.” It was silent. Dead silent. And then, suddenly, Bjorn started laughing, booming and happy. Queenie couldn’t even react, before he had her in a hug, raised off the floor and pressed against his chest. After that, all hell broke loose. The children collectively lost their minds. Ragnar and Aslaug had dark flashbacks, Ingrid was mostly grimassing because ‘oh my god, my parents had sex.’

Questions were thrown around, and Queenie just laughed, while Ivar hissed at his brothers not to be so rough with her. “How far along are you?” Bree hugged her best friend, kissed her cheek. “3 months. I didn’t want to tell you too soon, in case something happens.” “Oh, I am sure you’ll be fine. Ivar slapped Ubbe, probably because he asked an inappropriate question. Fenja would never get that creepy face he’d made out of her head. Good thing he wasn’t her professor at school. It all was very familiar and cozy, the atmosphere high strung with anticipation and happiness. Ragnar looked around. His sisters were already picking out baby shower decoration, his aunts were in it as well, his uncles were teasing the future parents. Fenja was next to them, getting roped into a hug by his mom - he hadn’t even noticed her going over -, and then leaving the room. She was all smiley and happy towards his parents, but as soon as no one could see her face, it got all clouded and dark.

Concerned, he followed her out, catching her out in the foyer. He stopped her with a hand on her elbow, pulling her gently to a halt. “You okay there?” “Yes.” She didn’t look up at him, angled her face down, keeping him from seeing the truth. Or so she thought. “Mhm.” He was sceptical. “I don’t appreciate being lied to.” She just shrugged, so he took matters into his own hands and guided her into his room. Maybe she’d say more behind closed doors. “What’s up?” “Nothing.” She was standing there, right in his room, hugging herself and looking… scared. “Fenja, please. I can see that something is wrong.” He sat on his bed, leaning forward and touching her arm. “This evening is not about me, please, can we not do this right now?” She swallowed, voice breaking. Ragnar sighed. Stubborn girl. “Sure thing, princess.” So he got up again, hand not leaving her arm. “Need a hug?”

An hour after receiving the news and cake, Ingrid whipped out Cards Against Humanity, since most of them refused to play UNO. Not when there was still cake around. Ragnar felt the strong need to give some money and his help to charities, and Bree even went so far as to get up, go over to the window ‘looking for a shred of humanity’. It was brutal. Fenja and Gala were off to the side sitting sideways and turned towards each other on the couch, with Hvitserk leaning on Gala’s back like the big manchild he was. They seemed to enjoy themselves, the dark look on his friends face was gone for now. He wondered what brought that mood swing on. After Bree had laid down a particularly vile card, Ragnar decided to step away and instead joined the unofficial book club on the couch. “How’s it going?” “I offered her an internship with the YWA.”, said Gala. Ragnar almost choked on air, definitely not having expected that. “What?” “In case she doesn’t get accepted as a writer. It’s good to have options.” She patted Fenjas hand. “There’ll still be a whole process, but I can open some doors.” Fenja was speechless, barely managed to nod. Gala just smiled brightly. “Thought so. And now please excuse us, I think it’s past his bedtime.” Hvitserk whined in protest, absolutely, completely proving his wife’s point.

Part 10

#iw #infinite white #Ivars kids #A Dreamwritesimagines Production #faint of heart AU #foh

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