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pacifymebby · 10 months

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you're not the only one // chapter five

It had been a little while since that night in town, a month and a half or something like that. I was telling myself I wasn't counting but I was and I knew how sad that made me because I knew that Sam was probably not thinking about it at all. Things were pretty normal between us, when we were on shift he would drop me back and we would sit together in his car quietly, I would concentrate on his CD's and he would concentrate on the road. Things didn't look awkward from the outside. No one would have thought things were awkward had they been watching us from the back seat. It was though, painfully so and all the more painful because I knew it was my fault. I was the one making things awkward. It was all in my head just like everything else always was. Those chest pains and jolts of anxious energy which shot to my fingertips like static when he looked at me. It didn't have to be awkward, if I could just do what I knew everyone else did in situations like this—just be normal—then things would run just as smooth and as bland as those kinds of mundane social interactions - which couldn't even really be classed as social interactions - usually did.

But I couldn't be - normal that is - I could only be myself, the Dylan-Wyn Bond everyone had always known, the scared of her own shadow, heart in her mouth, had to teach herself to smile as a child, shied away from anyone with a tendency to crack jokes because she never quite knew when to laugh or smile or when to simply smirk and say something sarcastic back. The Dylan-Wyn who cried too much and over things which didn't make anyone else cry. The one who'd gone for years in school not talking to anyone at all, just keeping her head down, trying not to be seen, not because she hated people - actually she'd longed to be just like all the other girls - but because other people stressed her out too much, made her nervous, made her feel like her heart was going to implode in her chest and drag her ribs and her lungs into a black hole.

I couldn't be normal so I remained shy and quiet. Remained mousy and nauseous whenever the two of us were on shift together and sometimes I couldn't tell whether he was disinterested or shy or something else. He'd catch me glancing back at him behind the bar, or he'd catch me concentrating very hard on everything but him. Sometimes I'd try so hard not to look at him, not to draw attention to myself, that his ears burnt anyway and he would see me, and he would feel the discomfort in me. I'd make him uncomfortable.

It was Wednesday afternoon, I'd finished work early because Lowlights was closing early. Sam had a gig and everyone was going, no point staying open for the three alcoholics who sat nursing slow pints for hours at a time when everyone else would be heading off to support Sam.

I had been werritting over excuses why I couldn't go, just in case he'd had the notion to ask me if I was in fact going, and though he never had had that notion at all, though he'd barely say three words to me all shift and left without me because my brother was coming to pick me up, my excuses were to be rendered useless anyway.

"You comin down Tynemouth with us then Titch?" asked my brother reaching over my head to grab my too big denim jacket down from the hook. He'd worked in the Lowlights himself back when he was in college and since management hadn't ever changed he'd still cut behind the bar to pester me whilst he waited for me to get my things.

"I don't know I'm kinda t..."

"Bullshit," he grinned, "cmon we're seeing Sam, it'll be class," he said jumping down the steps at the back door onto the tarmac. I winced and forced half an awkward smile. "Reckon he'll be very pleased to see you and all," he said pulling the kind of face that made me shiver all over with embarrassment.

"Johnny!" I cried hiding my face in my hands, head tipped back to the sky. I could feel the blush in the heat of my cheeks. The fear that he wasn't the only one making jokes like that making me wish the ground would open up beneath my feet. To be swallowed whole would be a small mercy.

"What dya say then, we gan?" he asked, "a mean am gannin anyway like a just reckon it'll look proper odd if a show up without me wee baby sister in tow like..."

When he said it like that I knew he was right, that actually, in the long run it would be more embarrassing to have to explain why I wasn't there, than to show up with my brother, drink a few pints and then wander home at the end of the gig. If I was smart about it I could avoid Sam the whole night, if I was lucky he wouldn't even notice me.

Of course I was going with Bondy so my plan to linger under the radar, hide away quietly at the back of the bar, was in tatters before we'd even arrived.

Johnny had always been one of those popular kids, one of the weird ones no one could quite explain why they had as many friends as they did, only that they were just generally sound. For all his little eccentricities, for all he'd been a long haired lanky, grungey teenage nerd back in high school and even through college, he was still a lad who played guitar and sang in bands and somehow that was enough to carry him through life with all the popularity of school A-Listers.

People had never really been able to understand how we were related in that sense. He could talk to anyone about anything for as long as the other person could listen - even if he didn't like them - whereas it didn't matter whether or not I liked a person, the chance of me getting even three words out without running away were next to none.

Before we'd even got to the bar we'd run into three lots of pals of his, some of them the distant and vague kinds, one of them Lou is best friend since school, who was just as unhinged and just as much of a menace as him. Walking between them was a nightmare on the best of days because together they were a riot, talking complete rot or teasing me, today, somehow, it was even worse.

"Reet little Dyl," grinned Louis so that I could already guess what he was going to say before he said it, so that my cheeks rosed over prematurely, "Av been hearing rumours about you you know..."

"Careful mate if its what a think it is she'll do a runner, she'll be off and over that fence like speedy gon-fuckin-zales," Johnny said throwing his arm around me squeezing me into his side as if he thought I really would and he needed to hold onto me lest I really go shooting off into the distance.

"Aye well," chuckled Louis, "a won't labour the point like lass, a just think a ought to clear it all up now, given current... shall we say... affairs?"

I wanted to tell him to shut up but my mouth was dry and I was too desperately trying to think up ways I could reply to the inevitable question without embarrassing myself, that I couldn't think quickly enough to shut him down.

"Artful," mused Johnny grinning too.

"So, put an old soul out of his misery and confusion and riddle me this, if Sophie who works in that One Stop up town reckons she saw you and Sam snogging each other outside the pub last month, why hasn't your old uncle Lou heard about it from either of the horses respective mouths?" he asked his long convoluted sentence only dizzying me more. I was grateful though, all those extra words had brought me a few extra seconds to think something up.

"Aye," sighed Johnny, "Av been wondering all this myself, one of my good pals and me own wee titchy sis, and neither of em have said a word," he said turning to me, pushing his finger to my nose, "this one actually threw a pillow at me last time I asked can you believe that?!"

"The cheek of it, most improper!"

"Most improper indeed!"

They carried on like that all the way there and when we arrived things only got worse. I'd hoped to be able to find a quiet corner to hide but that was impossible. All Johnny's mates were there, standing around outside in the beer garden, pissed already, smoking cigarettes, their talk a loud rumble ricochetting off the walls.

Inside was packed out too considering it was a Wednesday evening, mid week. We never drew this many people into lowlights mid-week so they were obviously all in for Sam or the unexpected sunshine which had warmed the city that morning.

There was nowhere to hide even if my brother had allowed me to wander off out of his sight but as it happened he kept me tucked under his arm half to torment and half to protect me, because as much as he enjoyed teasing me with his pals, he knew how much I hated crowds and loud noises and he could tell without looking at me that this was my idea of hell.

It didn't take long for him and Lou to get served, them being known by basically everyone behind the bar, basically everyone behind the bar eager to get the gossip on the new band Johnny had just joined. He carried them out with him to the garden, keen for a cigarette, knowing I would be too, and we joined his pals at one of the picnic benches. It was already full but they squished up just enough to make room for me and so I wound up sitting next to Johnny's girlfriend whilst the two lads stood beside us at the end of the picnic table pissing around.

It looked like they were setting up at the edge of the beer garden as opposed to inside. I could see Sam lingering by the amps and the PA talking to someone I vaguely recognised but once I'd seen him I averted my gaze and focused on my bottle of cider.

I was relying on the old, tried and tested method favoured by the under 5's. If I couldn't see him, he couldn't se me.

"Honestly don't know how you put up with having both of these pair around yas all the time," Stevie rolled her eyes and smiled at me conspiratorially before turning over her shoulder to Johnny. "Can a pinch a cig?" she asked offering him an angelic smile which turned sheepish when he raised his brow.

"Thought yas were quittin?" he asked and when she shrugged and blamed her work he smirked and rubbed her shoulder taking a cig out the packet for her and lighting it himself, "yas can have it if yas promise us you'll actually quit soon," he said.

"Promise," she said with one of those white lie smirks.

It wasn't Sam but it was his friends, Deano and Dru and Joe all pulling my brother into hugs, teasing him about his big shot job he'd managed to land with those "Welsh scoundrels."

I always felt a little like I was invading their personal space when I was sat with them so I lit my own cigarette quietly, eyes fixed on my lighter and then on a random space somewhere on the wall across the garden. Not looking at anyone, concentrating on a dry stone wall type brick with moss growing between the cracks, I didn't notice the comings and goings of people from our table until I heard familiar voices.

And when I heard those familiar voices I felt my cheeks flush on instinct.

I was naïve to hope they wouldn't notice me when I was sat right there beside my brother. I could try as hard as I liked not to be seen but at the end of the day I stuck out with my dark auburn hair and the flush on my cheeks which came close to matching.

That and Johnny wouldn't leave me be.

"Aye a heard yas were all oot with ma titchy sis like," he grinned ruffling my hair, tricking me into turning to look up at him, a scowl fixed on my brow intended only for him and not for the others. "Gettin her pissed like,"

"Aye well, responsibly like,"

"Oh yeah course, responsibly pissed like..."

"After a shift down lowlights on a Friday fucken night it'd be irresponsible not to get her pissed a reckon," grinned Dean shooting me a grin, his eyes friendly enough, gleaming with an alcoholic sheen.

My own smile was awkward too, the cider I was drinking failing to light my own eyes the way his pints had hit him.

"Areet Dylan not seen yas in ages," he smiled getting me to shuffle up along the bench so that I was squished right into Stevies side and he could sit down to chat to us, "ynar yas promised us you'd come out with us again like an we've not seen yas since,"

He said it like it was a question and I could feel his expectation that I would answer. I couldn't though, I didn't know what I was supposed to say. I wasn't even sure he was being entirely serious. Whether his joke was self-effacing implying that they'd done something to embarass themselves, or whether it was actually directed at me. Whether he was implying that I'd embarrassed myself. That they weren't really arsed that I'd not shown up since.

"Maybe it was somet you did Dean," smirked Stevie cutting in when she realised I wasn't going to reply. She'd been with Johnny long enough she'd started to notice things like that about me, and no doubt Johnny had told her all about his quiet little sister, too awkward for colour TV.

I couldn't help but grin with relief when I recognised one of my own friends across the beer garden, their eyes meeting mine as they hesitated in the doorway.

I stood a little abruptly, realising a moment too late that I looked awkward and clumsy and a little scornful when I left Dean and Stevie bickering between one another. By the time I'd realised my mistake however it was way too late to turn around and I just had to swallow my embarrassment and my guilt. Just had to try my best to meet Lois across the garden without anymore trips.

"Hey," I said quietly, smirking when she did.

"Johnny drag yas out?" she asked following the path I'd walked from my brothers table.

"Yeah," I said with a smirk, "Charlie drag yas out an all?" I asked referring to her older sister who, was much like my brother in that she was a social butterfly and her little sister was, just like me, quite the opposite.

"Aye," she smirked, "she's got the hots for that Dru Michael that plays in Sam's band," she added nodding over to the table where my brother was currently trapped in a headlock by the very same man.

"A thought she fancied Aaron Thompson," I shrugged knowing that Charlie had probably set her heart on about five different boys between Aaron Thompson and Dru.

"Aye," smirked Lois raising her bottle to her lips, "and Ashley Lewis and Callum Wilshaw and ah shit I cannae remember his name but he works in the chippy but only on Fridays and Saturdays..."

"Ross somat," I said, "Johnny used give him guitar lessons," I added to explain why I despite rarely talking to anyone outside of mine and Johnny's friends, I knew Ross who worked in the chippy but only on Friday and Saturday nights.

"Buckland!" she cried her own hand clamping over her mouth as she started giggling, "that's him yeah," she smirked, "she matched with him on tinder or somet but then he ghosted her?"

"Nah what she's definitely out of his league," I smirked though it was a guilty smirk. I felt sorry for the poor lad, at 21 years old and littered with acney scars which dented his cheeks, his greasy hair which carried the smell of chip shop fat wherever he went, even midweek when he'd not been in work 3 days, he probably knew he was leagues below Chelsea Carter, that was probably why he'd ended up ghosting her.

"Ynar she was propa wounded about it an all, sulkin for days," grinned Lois her eyes scanning the garden as if looking out for her older sister.

Chelsea was only a year older than us, she was too young really to be classed as an adult even though an adult was exactly what she was. She was girlish in her nature, not unlike me and Lois, but she tended to wear her heart on her sleeve and flit around town with her friends. She was girlish in a different way to us. When we were quiet and shy she was outgoing, the kind of girl whose let's the whole bar know she's laughing. The kind of girl who knows exactly when and how to play with her hair.

"Where's she now?" I asked but that was what Lois was trying to work out as she bit her lip and frowned, watching the bustle of people shift and move in currents and swells. It was one of those days everyone knew everyone.

"Cmon let's just go back to me brother," I sighed defeated, "if Chelsea comes back she'll be made up," I added with half a laugh.

When we returned to the table Johnny seemed somewhat relieved, his eyes smiling to settle on me. His warmth lingering for Lois when he saw her standing awkwardly next to me.

"Alreet Carter," he said flashing her a lopsided drunken grin. Lois forced a shy smile back suddenly losing her voice and shying away.

"Hi," she said glancing back at me as if to ask for help. Ever since we were in infants school she'd been a little scared of my big brother. When we'd hit high-school it became apparent why.

I felt sorry for her that Stevie was here. They weren't exactly a particularly public couple in terms of affection but it would still be embarrassing for her to see them together. Would still make her wish the ground would swallow her whole.

"Your brother out?" asked Lou looking just beyond us as if he thought he'd see Jake behind us.

"Nah he's still away," she said, "stationed in Helensburgh till the Autumn apparently," she said biting her fingernails as her eyes glanced between Johnny and Stevie who's shoulders my brother was now leaning over to grab his cigarettes off the table.

"Ah shit a forgot about that," said Louis then as if overcome with dissapointment at the reminder That Josh Carter a lad he'd gone to school with but never been friends with, had followed the classic Army Jobs trajectory, started out pulling pints only to be Made In The Royal Navy. "How's he doin? Yas hear from him often?"

"Aye y'know, sometimes," shrugged Lois. I watched her chewing her cheek and felt pity brew in me again. It didn't last long though because a pair of hands on my shoulders had me jumping out of my skin, the squeak which left me, though it was quiet, burning me bright red.

"Areet little Wyn,"

I turned around to see Sam grinning at me, his own eyes warm with an alcoholic glow too, "what're yas doing here like a want expecting a see yas?" he asked blushing when he realised he might have sounded rude, "Not that am not happy to see yas obviously like, just a bit surprised!" he grinned, hand scratching at the back of his neck as his eyes found the floor, smile quirking crookedly. I watched his eyes drift again, avoiding mine.

"Johnny invited me," I said my voice catching in my throat as I looked up at him. My knuckles were white because I was clinging onto my cider for dear life.

I felt like Baby telling a stranger that she Carried a Watermelon. I felt ridiculous.

"Aye well, it's nice to see yas not in a beer stained polo top like," he grinned then adding with a smirk, "or borrowing one of mine," he added with this awkward little half laugh which made Lois snort into her drink using the glass to hide her amusement and failing miserably. She was blushing on my behalf and I was simply speechless looking back at him totally mortified.

Neither of us had actually spoken about that night since the morning after that night. As if both of us had been trying desperately to forget it had ever happened.

I tried to smile, a nervous laugh escaping me. The air bristled between us. I couldn't look him in the eye but that was okay apparently because he couldn't me either.

Lois broke the silence in the end.

"Sam a think your Deanos wantin yas," she nodded tilting her glass towards the little set up.

His band weren't actually playing with him, it was just an acoustic set but Dean was lingering around the mic searching the crowd for his mate and when Sam turned over his shoulder and saw him he almost looked relieved to have an escape. As if he'd regretted saying hello in the first place.

"Reet well, cinnabit," he said his voice a little strained, flashing us a smile over his shoulder, his feet already carrying him away.

The second he was out of earshot I felt my brothers hands on my shoulders. I could feel my cheeks already burning up, Sam's touch had been enough to leave me a little lost for words, self concious and breathless, but when Johnny leant down to talk beside me, I knew he would be merciless.

"Ynar lass," he said with a smirk, his eyes flickering between me and the stage where Sam was now stood with his guitar slung over his shoulder. "I don't know which one of yas was more awkward then like," he chuckled, "a mean you, obviously," he added ruffling my hair, "but he seemed awfully shy himself..." he said it as if he was teasing only me but I knew that had Sam been there too he'd have been directing his wind up merchent smile at him too.

"Johnny," I whined trying to dismiss him, wishing hed just shut up, "zip it,"

"Oh aye you're welcome Dylan," said Lou placing another bottle of cider down in front of me.

"Sorry," I flushed raising it to my lips quickly, the calpol flavoured drink leaving that artificial sweetness lingering on my tongue as I started drinking quicker.

I was caught between an ever increasingly familiar dilemma. Get drunk and lose a little of my self-concious edge, my anxiety muted by the loss of inhibitions. Or drink slowly, remain in control so that I didn't wind up doing anything embarrassing again and so that tomorrow I would remember exactly what I'd done. If I knew what I'd said and done I could make sure I hadn't embarrassed myself.

"Thanks Lou," I added but my voice was drowned out by Sam's as he began to sing.

I'd heard a lot of the songs before. Johnny tended to go to everyone of Sam's gigs he possibly could and so I had wound up listening to the lad on numerous occasions which, when allowed to do so subtly, I couldn't complain about.

I loved hearing him sing, his songs always had a soothing effect on me. I always felt calm and safe when he was running through one of his setlists making self deprecating jokes in between songs.

That days set was very much the same and I found myself drink calmly through two more drinks before he reached the end of the set. The penultimate song leaving me with a little smile on my lips as I recognised it to be one of the demos he'd had in his car recently.

"Darlin you're not the only one," he sang over and over again. I tried to listen to the lyrics and take them all in but I was too distracted by the familiarity of the track.

It wasn't just that I'd heard it before but that I recognised the scenes, as if I'd watched them on a television before too.

But I hadn't and as much as I thought I recognised some lines others confused me and threw me.

As the set reached a close I began to feel the anxiety swell in me once more, this knot in my stomach twisting as I thought about what would happen next.

All Sam's mates were sitting with us because they were all Johnny's mates too and the conversation could well steer itself back in the direction of mine and Sam's night on the town and the rumour which had been going round. One I knew to be true but which Sam was either completely unaware of or ignoring on purpose. Either way I didn't want to stick around to endure the teasing or the tension again and so as I finished my bottle of strawberry cider and tapped Lois on the shoulder.

"Wanna come back to mine, got the new Zelda," I said hoping she would be in the same mood as I was. I could usually rely on her to be in the same mood as I was.

"Can we get ice cream?" she asked which was actually her way of saying yes.

I smiled, grinning with relief and also gratitude that I had my one friend who I could trust to always be on my same wave length.

"Hey Johnny," I said lighting a cigarette passing the pack to Lois so she could take one too.

"Areet titch?"

"gan home see yas in a bit yeah?"

"Yeah Areet," he said, "have you got your keys? Text us when yas get in yeah?"

"Yeah," I smirked rolling my eyes at him, squirming when he threw his arms around me and hugged me tight.

"You look after her Carter," he turned to Lois with a smirk, the kind that probably killed her on the inside the same way Sam's smile killed me. "Both of yas be safe yeah?" he asked waiting for us both to nod again and promise him.

I was used to his over the top shows of care. Lois however couldn't understand what to make of it and her shock, her embarrassment - i couldn't tell whether she was embarrassed by how his protectivenesd seemed to have touched her or by the fact that how she felt was more than a little obvious to everyone around us.

"Hey..." he said then, the alcoholic glint in his eye seeming to predict and play up to the stupid thing that slipped out next as he took my hair in his fingers, "you've got autumnal kinda hair..." he said, me and Lois screwing our faces up in confusion at the same time.

"What?"

"Can we go now?" I asked him with a smirk reaching for my friends hand which was still hovering from pink promising with my brother.

"Aye go on both off yas, out me sight," he said chuckling away as him and Louis made a show of dismissing us and then, pretending to cry as Louis dabbed at his eyes.

"Oh god," he cried out, "they grow up so fast,"

I blamed him and his little amdram performance a second later when I heard another shout in our direction.

"Wyn!" called Sam doing one of those awkward jogs no one ever realises they've committed to until its too late.

I stopped, my heart thudding and refusing to calm even when he stopped just behind us, a little distance left between us which seemed to make the whole interaction all the more odd and unnatural.

"Thanks for comin," was all he offered, baffling me even more as I watched him a little out of breath. When neither me nor Lois said anything at all, her shying away because she didn't know him and he was older, me shying away because every time he spoke to me I forgot language. "Get home safe yeah, let me know..."he added quickly before chewing his cheek, sucking his skin in to cause a hollow as he glanced out the corner of his eye.

I felt heavy with the expectation that I would speak next.

"Uh yeah, sure, " I said sucking in on my own cheek, my hands shoved firmly in my pockets.

I'd spend hours later telling myself off for not having behaved better. For having not thought to tell him he'd played well or that I liked his songs. Because he had and I did. I really liked them. I had just been too caught off guard and inside my own head in the moment to let him know.

All I didn't was wave and walk away.

"See you at work a guess?"

#sam fender imagines #sam fender fanfiction

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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Okay, so you know “Justice League meets Batman’s kids, who they’d previously been unaware existed” AUs?

So picture that.....but this time, instead of them just having no knowledge of any of these other Gotham vigilantes at all....the Batkids all migrate to various cities as they get older and become known as their protectors - Dick in Bludhaven, Tim in San Francisco, Cass in Hong Kong, etc....

Meaning they’re all established figures, the Justice League are aware of them as solo local heroes who stick to their cities and so they just don’t interact with them much if at all, or else some are members of team lineups but are particularly vague about their histories or life outside of the team’s adventures....

So the big reveal isn’t that they become aware of all these other Gotham vigilantes all at once....its that some big conflict or whatever requires a huge team up of all available heroes, and in the aftermath, they figure out that like.....despite being known as solo heroes who work alone or loners outside of their team settings, 80% of these heroes all not only seem to already know each other, they seem to be related.

And so naturally they all turn to Batman, who has profiles on every known hero and they thus figure had researched these individuals too and just never mentioned this little detail, and they’re like, “Did you know about this?”

And then Nightwing turns to him too, arms crossed and is like, “Yeah Dad, did you know about this?”

And the infamous Red Hood is all: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have never met any of these people before in my life. Lives? Whatever.”

And then Red Robin moodily grates out “I have no siblings.” Since he’s nursing a grudge since Dick and Jason broke into his apartment the night before and replaced all his custom Red Robin gear with Darkwing Duck merchandise and his vengeance will be swift and also totally disproportionate because things escalate quickly in this family, that’s true in every universe.

Cass meanwhile has deftly skewered Jason’s lie by walking over to him and brazenly patting down the man with many many guns with no fear whatsoever. He squawks and futilely attempts to bat her hands away as she riffles through his many pockets, but he doesn’t seem shocked, just annoyed. Eventually, she pulls away and triumphantly reveals a box of Hello Kitty themed band-aids.

“So these are yours then? Just for you?” Black Bat asks smugly. Red Hood squints at the box.

“What the fuck? How long have those been in my jacket? Why are those in my jacket? Did you freaking plant them in my jacket just on the offchance you could at some point in the distant future use them at my expense?”

Black Bat frowns, puzzled. “Yes?”

“Oh come on, Dead Hood,” Spoiler says with an exaggerated toss of her head meant to convey she’s rolling her eyes beneath her own mask. She skips her way across the room to Black Bat and then drapes herself languidly all over the smaller woman. Who in turn doesn’t so much as twitch beneath the sudden added mass as Spoiler holds out her hand towards the box of band-aids.

“One please. I have a boo-boo,” she says with easy familiarity straight into the intimidating cowl of Black Bat. Only then does she deign to finish her train of thought with Red Hood.

“I mean seriously, are you saying you don’t have potential blackmail set-ups, pre-rigged releases of incriminating material, and a random assortment of traps, pratfalls and mortifying scenarios in place for the express purpose of being able to humiliate any and all of your siblings at any given moment, without any need for additional prep time?”

“Is this true, Little Wing?” Nightwing whirls on the larger Red Hood with a faux-scandalized gasp. The founder and leader of the Titans, formerly the Teen Titans, renowned for his stratagems and calm competence when directing squads of supers in the heat of battle while he keeps pace with nothing more than naturally acquired acrobatics and a utility belt that apparently uses the same technology as Wonder Woman’s invisible jet....now appears to be....staggering with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead, moaning about how he felt....faint?

What is happening right now, several dozen superheroes want to know. Is this a drill? Are they supposed to be checking for signs of a mental ambush from undetected psychic saboteurs? Did they all hit their heads at the exact same time and are now experiencing some kind of shared mass concussion?

Look, that wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen on the Watchtower.

“Have I failed you so utterly?” The veteran child hero bemoans with a dramatic twirl - that when contrasted with his stern demeanor of a mere ten minutes ago - makes the fears of telepathic infiltration seem less paranoia and more....concerningly probable. “Did you learn nothing from me? Did you learn nothing from B?”

He stops and jabs a finger up at the sky. “Quick, everyone! What is the very first rule of Living While Batty?”

As if by rote, over a half a dozen voices chime in from all over the room, causing various heroes to jump. Spooked by yet more and more vigilantes joining in some kind of mass recitation like they and they alone have some kind of clue what the hell is going on and everyone else just hadn’t been invited to the party. Which is just rude, honestly. Nobody likes feeling like they weren’t invited to the party. Not even superheroes.

“If you’re not going to bother preparing for every possible contingency and at least six impossible ones, you might as well just stay in bed.”

Even the Red Hood joins in the Illuminati chant or Cub Scout pledge or demonic ritual or whatever the fuck that just was, though his slumped and exasperated posture gives away every hint of sulkiness his headgear otherwise would have kept safely hidden. He’s surprisingly more...expressive, than most who’d only known of him by reputation had expected him to be. The day continues to yield surprises.

“Of fucking course I do,” he growls out, snatching the box from Black Bat. She doesn’t even fight to hold onto it, just lets it go with a knowing smirk. “I wasn’t surprised by the idea of it, I was just surprised she bothered with such a weak effort. Like yeah whatever, actually those could be mine. I use those all the time at home. So what?”

He aggressively yanks one of the band-aids out of the box, fumbles with the peel-off strips with one hand and he roughly rolls up the sleeve of his jacket with the other. Then just slaps it on his forearm and raises said appendage high, showing it off this way and that. “See?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Signal drawls from the other side of the room, nodding his head approvingly. “Totally convincing. Nice job walking that one back, you really showed them.”

Red Hood’s head snaps in his direction with ominous intent. “Watch it, Day-Glo.”

Signal just snorts.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna take constructive criticism on my name and costume from a dude who’s spent the last several years calling himself Red HOOD while running around in a freaking HELMET.”

“Its not meant to be literal, you fucking pedant.”

“So wait, its not literally a helmet? Huh, does it at least protect your head literally, or just like...symbolically? Like if Bane were to clock you across the head, would your concussion just be a metaphor? What’s the treatment protocol for a metaphorical concussion? Fluids, bedrest and a philosophical prescription of two chapters of Chicken Soup for the Soul as needed?”

“Laugh it up, KC and the Sunshine Band,” Red Hood bats back. “You just got yourself disinvited from Thursday night’s poker game.”

Signal just grins and folds his arms over his chest cockily. “Please. You’ve been looking for an excuse to ban me for weeks, cuz you know until you can prove I’m using my ghost vision to cheat, you can’t actually bring suit against me for it in Family Court.”

“That, and also Family Court isn’t a real thing, you toddler. Stop validating Wing-a-ding-ding’s obsession with Shitty TV Nostalgia and just call it that thing where Oracle traps us all in a room until we settle our latest fight without anyone getting stabbed.”

“Yeah, but like, say that five times fast,” Spoiler pipes up. “Its just not practical. Family Court’s way easier.”

“Says the one who’s not even in our fucking family.”

“And yet I grace you all with my sublime presence anyway,” she blows a kiss at him, beatifically unbothered. “You’re welcome.”

The Red Hood scoffs and rounds on his heel, zeroing in on Batwoman in the far corner.

“Hey Auntie B, my siblings are all dead to me and I just helped stop an alien invasion so I deserve nice things like a fun Saturday night. Can you get me into Dad’s fundraiser so I can crash it? He won’t put me back on the list until I promise not to bring any C-4 with me and I won’t promise not to bring any C-4 because he should just trust me that I won’t when I say I’m not gonna and he won’t trust me that I won’t until I admit I shouldn’t have brought any to that sting last month where three tiny little yachts blew up through barely any fault of my own, and I’m just not gonna do that ever because I have convictions and I feel I shouldn’t have to be punished for that. Y’know?”

Batwoman blinks at him. “Kid, I’m not gonna lie to you. You’re my nephew and I love you, but I stopped listening three seconds into all that.”

“Ugh, fine. Can you help me crash Dad’s event tonight so I can teach him a lesson about why he should just trust me not to make a scene so I don’t have to always make a scene to make a point.”

“Tempting as you make that sound,” she says wryly, “I have a strict policy for dealing with you lot and your......everything. I only worry about tolerating one of you at a time, and there’s seven of you, and seven days in the week. You each get your own. You know perfectly well its Robin’s day today. You get me on Tuesday, just like always.”

“Auntie B, we’re not like other families, are we?” Red Robin’s delivery is sarcastically childish and his question clearly rhetorical. Most of his attention is fixated on whatever it is he’s doing with his wrist-mounted computer.

“No sweetie, we’re all severely fucked in the head and a little bit too comfortable with that.”

“Just checking. Oh hey, Hood, I just emailed you a patch for the hole in your firewall I exploited when replacing all my shit using your accounts just now.”

“You did what?”

“Used your accounts to pay to replace all my stuff that you fucked with last night?” Red Robin says slowly. “Did you not realize that I’ve been sticking within ten feet of you for the past five minutes just so I could clone your devices and do all that while BB and Spoiler kept you distracted? I gotta say, bro, I feel like that’s on you then.”

Red Hood swivels his helmeted head in the direction of the aforementioned two. Black Bat waves. Spoiler shoots him an utterly unrepentant thumbs up.

“You’d side with your ex over me? That’s what its come to?”

“My only allegiance is to chaos,” Spoiler says brightly. Black Bat shrugs.

“Plus he bribes better.”

“Hateful,” Red Hood points at Black Bat, moving on to level the same finger at Spoiler, who curtsies in acknowledgment: “Hateful-er.”

Then the finger rounds the bases to aim judgmentally at Red Robin. “Hateful-est. And that was all Nightwing’s idea anyway, not mine.”

“Oh, I assumed as much,” he says casually. “Your idea of a prank tends to have more of a Carrie vibe. Or be a literal literary reenactment.”

“Its called an homage, 4chan.”

“Whatever, plagiarist. And anyway, I couldn’t go after ‘Wing for payback on this one. He used an Immunity card. If you didn’t want me getting back at you, you should have used one too."

Red Hood looms aggressively. Red Robin ignores willfully. Round and round they go. Superheroes who can survive excessive G-Forces are getting dizzy just watching them have a largely motionless stand-off. That shouldn’t be how that works, but whatever. All the most infamously reclusive and isolated heroes in all hero-dom are apparently part of the same one big reclusive and isolated family of fucked up weirdos and they’re all officially bonkers. Nothing makes sense anymore. Reality broke. Try another stall.

“Okay, but see, in order to have an Immunity card, I would have to participate in one of you losers’ stupid Immunity challenges,” the Red Hood drags out with exaggerated patience. “And I’m just not going to do that, on account of those all being fucking stupid. You see the problem there?”

Red Robin just shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, bro. You can have principles or you can have an Immunity card. You can’t have both.”

Meanwhile, on another side of....the same room.....look, its like, an octagonal room, probably. It has a lot of sides. Robin fends off questions from an aggrieved looking Superboy.

“You never told me you had a bajillion brothers and sisters!”

“Yes but I never said I didn’t either.”

Superboy rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, so I should just assume everyone I meet has a bajillion secret brothers and sisters?”

“Well clearly it would have worked out in your favor in this instance if you had, now wouldn’t it?”

“Assuming of course that you can trust what has been said or implied here today and I am actually related to any of those numbskulls. Which I am not actually admitting to,” Robin tacks on hastily.

Superboy eyes him dubiously. “You joined in the same creepy chant all the others did and then got super self-conscious and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Which uh. I did.”

“First off, your interpretation of body language is abyssmal. I do not get self-conscious,” Robin says with a delivery that probably could have benefited from being a little less self-conscious. “And second....that proves nothing. I guessed what they were going to say.”

“Word for word,” Superboy says super-skeptically.

“I’m very good at guessing things. You know this.”

“Okay. Guess how much I believe you right now then.”

Robin glares and folds his arms grumpily across his chest.

“And what was that anyway? Was that like....you guys’ family motto or something like that?”

“Oh no,” Spoiler pipes up. “That’s much shorter.”

Superboy balks at that. “Wait, you guys actually have one of those for real?”

“Yup,” Steph says, counting out the words with her fingers. “He who laughs last....probably works for the Joker. So tranq him just to be safe. See? Only sixteen words. The first rule of Living While Batty is way longer, and what we said was just the abridged version. You should hear the original, before Black Bat put her foot down and refused to memorize it unless sizable edits were made.”

Superboy hovers between her and Robin now, both in mid-air and on the verge of taking Spoiler’s words as an invitation to hear just that. A low growl arises from Robin’s direction.

“Must you?” He asks the older vigilante, with a most put upon expression.

She looks at him pityingly. “Do you actually need me to answer that? Like, we’ve met, right? Hi, I’m Spoiler.”

“Wait, so Robin said that I just never specifically asked him if he had a bajillion brothers and sisters, and that’s why he didn’t tell me, so that means he wouldn’t have just lied and there’s not some code of secrecy that flat out forbids telling other people stuff, right?” Superboy realizes excitedly.

“Yes, excellent direction. Go on,” Spoiler says, steepling her fingers. Robin buries his face in the palm of one hand.

“Soooo, what other stuff could you tell me about Robin’s super top secret family that I wouldn’t think to ask about but that he would tell me about if I knew what questions to ask?”

She claps once, lightly but with emphasis. “Well done. You’ve passed the first barrier. Untold secrets await you behind just a few more.”

“I’ll get you for this,” Robin vows calmly. She waves a hand at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you do it before January 1st, remember? You’ve promised retribution like ten times already this year and those don’t roll over, y’know. Rules are rules.”

“Enough!” Thunders a voice then, from the front of the room. Well one of the fronts anyway. Like sides, it has a lot of them, but this is the one where Batman’s standing. All eyes snap to him. Which is kinda just what eyes do when Batman says stuff like that. Its like his superpower, except he doesn’t actually have superpowers, which is what makes it scary. But where the snapping of the eyes (directional) is usually followed by Batman saying something else besides just “hey look at me,” here he pauses in the wake of his own call to attention’s waning reverberations. Uncharacteristically silent.

Not that, y’know, he’s normally Mr. Talkity Talk, but usually his silences feel like he has the words to fill them, he’s just withholding them. This though, this feels more like he doesn’t have any words at all. And he’s as confused by it as any of them, and most everyone else is confused by Batman being confused, and its this whole trickle down economy of confusion and its wrecking havoc on the value of the golden silence standard.

Of course, not everyone present is rendered spellbound with confusion.

“C’mon B,” Nightwing cajoles, leaning forward and practically radiating delight. “I think you know what you have to do now. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Its not likely to come around again.”

Red Hood snickers beneath his helmet and chimes in. “Yeah Pops, go ahead. You do this and you’ll actually have my respect for a whole twenty four hours. No, wait. Sixteen. No! Eight. Yeah, eight. Still a good deal.”

“Carpe diem, B,” Red Robin grins, leaning back as if to enjoy the show.

“Hey! Infringe on my trademark one more time, dude,” Signal throws a faux-glare at the former. Red Robin just quirks an eyebrow.

“And what, you’ll start saying Yum every time you eat a burger? Oh no. I’m hoist by my own petard.”

Signal flips him off with a grin and then redirects his attention back to Batman. “Yeah seriously though B, you kinda gotta do it now. Because if you don’t do it, then you’ll forever be the guy who didn’t do it, and you don’t want to be that guy, do you?”

“Yeah you really don’t want to be that guy,” Spoiler shouts out. “Nobody likes that guy. He’s the worst.”

“Do it, do it,” Black Bat starts chanting beside her, steadily picking up speed and volume. Several others start joining in. Even Robin appears to be slightly anticipatory, albeit trying very hard to hide it.

Batman sighs, and somehow everyone manages to hear it. Stills. Waits for....something? Nobody but them seems to have any clue what, but the air is thick and heavy with portentiousness. Something is about to happen, and all most of the heroes present could say for sure is it was something they never would have in a million years seen coming.

Finally, Batman straightens with the resigned air of a man about to have oh so many regrets. He crosses his arms, shakes his head, and in an absolute deadpan monotone, says:

“You are awful children. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing your father.”

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sacredsorceress · 3 years

Text

Green || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

summary: three times bucky realized you were more than a friend and the one time he finally admitted it (based on events from tfatws)

a/n: finishing this in time for the season finale tomorrow! reblogs and/or replies are super appreciated!!

word count: 3.1k

warnings: mentions of reader wearing a short dress, jealous bucky

masterlist || request || taglist

“Nice of you guys to call me.”

Your hands in your jacket pockets, you announced your presence as you strolled up to the group of four men standing outside of the police station. You could basically feel the tension in the air as each man had a resolute expression written on all over their faces.

“What’s going on here?” You asked, slipping your hands out of your pockets and gesturing towards the group.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked.

You might have been nicer about the situation if you weren’t utterly pissed that the two men hadn’t informed you about the mission that they had gone on.

“Incase you forgot, Sam, you’re not the only one who’s had to pick up where someone else left off. It’s my job to keep track of you guys.” You said. “... Also I’m Bucky’s emergency contact.”

“Well,” The blonde man leaning against the police cruiser said. “You’re a little late. I handled it.”

Looking up at the man in front of you, you gave him no inclination of defeat.

“You must be John Walker.” You said.

“So you’ve heard of me?” He smirked.

You crossed your arms, stepping away from the man who you had seen on television playing the role of Captain America. You had heard about the decision moments before the government had first displayed the impersonator on screen, but it had been too late for you to do anything about it or to inform Sam or Bucky in time for his appearance.

“I’ve heard of everyone.” You deadpanned.

“Yeah?” He asked, standing up straighter. “And who are you?”

Just as you were about to open your mouth, you felt Bucky’s hand land on your shoulder. Turning to glance at him, you watched as he shook his head, giving you a serious look. Despite the fact that you were now tasked with keeping track of the former members of the group of Avengers and were one yourself, you had been able to keep your identity a secret. Although to the world you were “Sorceress”- the Avenger with magical powers similar to those of Wanda Maximoff- to members of the team such as Bucky you were Y/n Y/l/n.

He didn’t trust John Walker and he didn’t want to bring you into their own mess. Although Bucky had been avoiding Sam’s text messages, Bucky had kept in constant touch with you since you first met him after he had come back from the Blip six months ago- even going as far as spending time together multiple times a week in person- not because you had to keep track of him, but because the two of you genuinely enjoyed spending time together.

You were the closest thing he had to normalcy and he didn’t want the knockoff version of his best friend messing it up not only for himself, but for you too.

However, you didn’t see much of a way out of it. You weren’t going to just leave Bucky and Sam to handle the situation on their own, but you also didn’t see a way that you could work alongside them and not have John and Lemar figure out your identity sooner or later.

Gently taking Bucky’s hand off of your shoulder, squeezing it lightly before dropping it, you reached out your hand to John Walker.

“Y/n Y/l/n.” You told him. “Sorceress... and I guess the current caretaker of the Falcon and the Winter Soldier.”

Later, after the group had dispersed and you followed Sam and Bucky as they walked in the opposite direction, you were surprised when you heard Bucky’s tone of voice when he finally spoke up again.

“You shouldn’t have given him your name, Y/n.” He said.

You shrugged, hands tucked into your pockets once again. “It’s fine, Buck.” You assured him. “There wasn’t much else I could do. He was going to find out eventually-”

“Don’t act so casual about it. This is your identity- your life- and you’re just going to share it with some asshole like John Walker?”

“Woah!” You exclaimed, stopping in your spot. “What’s your problem, Buck? Why do you care so much?”

Noticing how both you and Sam were staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to comprehend why he was making such a “big deal” about it, Bucky grew embarrassed, not understanding himself why he cared so much. Rather than admitting defeat however, Bucky threw up his hands, scoffing.

“Forget it, Y/n. I don’t care. Do what you want.”

And with that he picked up the pace, walking in the opposite direction of where you and Sam stood confused in your spots.

“I couldn’t have worn something- I don’t know- a bit longer?” You called to the three men ahead of you, following them into the club as you tugged on the hem of your short dress.

“This a club in Madripoor, Y/n.” You heard Zemo say. “If you wore anything else you would be giving us away.”

Groaning you steadied yourself in your heels following behind Zemo and Sam. You slowed your pace to walk besides Bucky who had insisted on being at the back of the line behind you- telling everyone that it would be safer for everyone if he kept their backs covered.

“How are you feeling?” You asked as quietly as you could in the loud club.

“What?” He asked.

“How are you feeling? With the while Winter Soldier thing? If you don’t think you can handle it we can find another way-”

“It’s fine, Y/n.” He said. “Don’t worry about me.”

Instead of letting it go, you gently placed your hand on his exposed, vibranium arm, causing him to stop in his spot, looking at you.

“Bucky, I’m serious.” You said. “You matter too. If you can’t handle it, I’ll find a way to get the information without all of this, okay? I care about you, Buck. Just say the word.”

He almost couldn't focus on the words coming out of your mouth as he tried to keep his eyes focused on your face, rather than trailing down your body, finally noticing just how short the dress that was adorning your body was. As good as you looked in green, he swore he would kill Zemo once he got what he needed from him for dressing you in that.

As gorgeous as you were, however, your words meant everything to him and he hung on to every single one- no matter what you were saying. Hearing the sentiment that you had for him and that you would stick your neck out for him of all people made him speechless.

Just as he was about to open his mouth however, the two of you began to feel the eyes of other partygoers staring the two of you down. As soon as you noticed, you quickly snatched your hand away from his arm and continued your pace in front of him, Bucky quickly following behind.

“Distracted?” Zemo asked as Bucky stopped beside him at the bar.

Rather than answering, Bucky remained silent, falling into character with the thought of your shared interaction still playing over and over in his mind.

Coughing on his hands and knees, trying to process what had just happened, all Bucky could hear was the obnoxious sound of the alarm blaring. When he opened his eyes again he saw the shipping container now consumed with flames and illuminated with a daunting red light. Recalling what had just occurred, he scrambled to his feet, calling out for you.

“Y/n?” He called. “Y/n!”

When he didn't immediately hear your voice, he began to feel his heart race in his chest. What if something happened to you? What if you were too close to the explosion? He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if something had happened to you. Just as he was beginning to start hyperventilating, the smoke catching in his chest causing him to double over and heave, he felt your hands wrap around either of his biceps.

“Buck?” You asked. “I’m- I’m so sorry. It happened so fast I couldn’t get a forcefield around everyone. Thank God you’re okay. I was so afraid something happened-”

Cutting you off, Bucky shook your hands off of his arms, instead pulling you into his arms. Although you and the super soldier had spent more quality time than you could count together prior to starting this mission, you had never hugged before, but being in his arms you couldn’t find a single complaint, instead silently wrapping your arms tightly around his torso, running your hands up and down his back.

“Hey it’s okay, Buck. I’m okay.” You said. “Let’s go, okay? Before this thing collapses on us.”

After that the two of you had followed Sam and Sharon into the area of shipping containers, taking out hitman by hitman along the way, when you had finally gotten through all of them, you watched as Zemo pulled up in a car besides the four of you.

“Nice ride.” You said as Bucky slipped into the front seat of the vehicle, yourself sliding into one of the seats in the back row.

“Thank you, Y/n.” Zemo replied, patting Bucky on the chest. “She’s a woman of taste.”

Bucky swore to himself for the second time within the past 12 hours that when given the chance he was going to kill the man beside him- with or without his therapist’s approval.

“You’re not going to move your seat up are you?” Sam asked.

“Nope.” Bucky said.

“That’s fine.” Sam conceded. “I guess I’ll just chill back here with Y/n.”

You laughed as Sam laid his arm against headrest of the backseats of the car.

“I’m fine with that.” You said. “Just me and my favorite person.”

Now Bucky knew that you were kidding, only teasing him to get a rise out of him, but glancing at the backseat and seeing Sam’s arm practically around your shoulders and you calling him your favorite person... just didn’t sit right with Bucky. Just as Zemo’s foot was about to hit the gas, Bucky shifted the car into park, swinging the door open and stepping out of the vehicle.

“What-”

“You can have the front.” Bucky said, swinging Sam’s door open.

“It’s really okay, Buck-”

“You said you wanted more space so you can have the front.” He said. “Go sit in the front.”

You watched as Sam turned to you, quirking his eyebrows before shrugging and stepping out of the car, switching to the passenger seat. You almost wanted to laugh as you watched Bucky squeeze into the backseat behind the passenger seat, his knees practically up against his chest.

“You good?” You asked.

Despite the groan that had involuntarily escaped his mouth from the discomfort of the front seat digging into his knees, Bucky nodded, stretching his arm out across the backseat, behind your shoulders.

“I’m great.” He assured you. “Now drive, Zemo.”

Although you didn’t catch it, the two men sitting in the front seat- despite their differences- couldn’t help but throw each other a knowing look before the car took off for their next destination.

“Hey!” Torres called. “I see you got your sleeve back!”

You chuckled as you turned to glance at the man stood beside you. Despite it being a joke, not a single hint of a smile cracked the man’s hard exterior. The only reason he didn’t walk out of the room on the spot was because you were standing beside him.

“He’s just in a bad mood today.” You said, reaching your hand out to shake Torres’. “I’m Y/n.”

Taking your hand and shaking it in his, he furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you doing hanging around these guys?” He asked. “...Not that you can’t handle yourself! Sam just won’t even invite me on these things.”

Pulling your hand away from his, you smiled. “Think you can keep a secret?”

As soon as you asked the question you watched as the confusion written all over his face grew even more and you could hear Sam chuckling in the background.

“I’m Sorceress.” You said. “Like the Avenger? I just try to keep my identity pretty secret, you know?”

As soon as you revealed your identity to him, you watched as the man’s face dropped and he turned to look at Sam who was standing behind him.

“Wait- she’s-” Torres stuttered.

Sam nodded, laughing.

“Yep.” Sam said. “She’s the one you’ve been hounding me about setting you up with.”

Although you weren’t paying attention to him, Bucky had already disliked how the conversation was going- finding Torres to be a little too friendly for his liking and not loving that you exposed your identity to him immediately- but when he heard Sam’s confession, he stiffened in his spot, hands balling into fists at his side.

“What? Dude!” Torres exclaimed, glancing back and forth between you and Sam before finally turning back to you, chuckling nervously. “He's just kidding! I would never have a crush on you- wait! That came out wrong! Not that you’re not pretty because you are- I just think you’re cool-”

You continued laughing as the man stumbling over his words in front of you, finding it endearing until you heard the super soldier scoff beside you. You glanced at him only to see him cross his arms while rolling his eyes before making his way out of the room.

Turning back to Torres you gave him a quick smile, pulling a card out of your pocket. “I have to go, but it was nice to meet you Torres. If these boys get in trouble again, make sure to call me first thing, okay?”

He took the card from your hand, nodding. “Uh yeah- yeah! Of course!”

With that you waved to both him and Sam before following the path Bucky had taken out of the room seconds before.

Seeing his figure pacing across the room, you threw your arms up in the air.

“What’s your problem?” You asked.

Stopping in his spot he turned to face you.

“What?” He said. “I don’t have a problem.”

You couldn’t help but scoff, crossing your arms.

“Uh yeah. You do.” You said. “Did I do something to piss you off or something? Are you mad at me for coming on the mission? Because I’m sorry if I wanted to help save the world and make sure you guys didn’t get killed in the process.”

Bucky just stopped and stared at you standing across from him with your arms crossed. He hated to admit it, but you look pissed at him. It hurt knowing that you were upset with him, but it hurt a little more knowing that you felt as though he was mad at you when in actuality that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Y/n.” He said, stepping closer to you. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then why did you just storm out of the room?” You asked.

He couldn’t think of a reason besides the truth. He could lie and say that he was mad at you, but that wouldn’t solve the situation for anyone and could possibly strain your relationship farther- and that was the last thing he could possibly want.

The two of you stood there in silence, staring at one another as Bucky attempted to find the words in his head to ease your concern without exposing himself in the process.

But you were never one to back down with him.

“Bucky,” You said. “What’s the problem? What did I do? Why are you so angry-”

“Because I don’t like the way that guy was talking to you!” He exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air.

“What?” You asked. “What are you talking about?”

Bucky realized he was in it now. He couldn’t see a way out of it.

For the past week, Bucky couldn’t help but notice that he cared for you a bit more than friends should. Maybe he always did. He thought back to the times he would eagerly await your weekly lunches or the comfort he felt when you took him furniture shopping after seeing his empty apartment for the first time. He thought back to the times you would show up outside of his door when he was upset because you were the only person he trusted there with him in those intimate moments- he knew that you were more than just his colleague, but he realized now that you were more than his friend.

Recently it became more obvious, the burning in his chest he felt when others became a little too comfortable with you- he attempted to mask it with just wanting to protect you, but he knew you could handle yourself. He was protective over you so he wouldn’t lose you.

Just when you opened your mouth to speak again, he cupped your face in his hands. He watched as your eyes widened, but didn’t make any move to stop him. When he caught your eyes trailing from his eyes to his lips, he pulled you towards him, meeting your lips in the middle.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t kissed anyone in eighty years, but he had never felt the way he had in that moment before. He was so utterly consumed in you- the feeling of your hands reaching for his jacket, tugging him closer as you deepened the kiss, your soft lips against his, your warm breath against his face- he was lost in it.

When you finally pulled away, he didn’t want to let go, but leaned back anyway, staring at his world- you- that he now held in his hands.

“Buck...”

“I think I like you more than a friend.” He confessed.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face at his words. You had always cared for Bucky as more than just your former fellow Avenger, but knowing that he felt the same as you was something you could hardly believe.

“I think I do too.” You laughed, then recalled what you had come in there for in the first place. “James, were you... were you jealous?”

Thinking back over the past week the two of you had spent together on the mission, he could almost laugh at the question you had just asked.

“You’re joking, right?” He chuckled. “Yeah. You could say I was a little bit jealous.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #Bucky Barnes drabble #bucky barnes blurb #Bucky Barnes fluff #Bucky Barnes angst

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kentobean · 2 years

Text

jujutsu kaisen, the podcast

this only took like, seven months to finally finish. enjoy. warnings: swearing

in another universe, despite the fact that gojo gets on nanamin's nerves, he finds that he's able to speak gojo quite easily

it happens when nanami and gojo are meeting up for lunch. nanami's on a journey to find a new favorite cafe, searching for the perfect sandwich to bring into his routine, and in the mood for a conversation with gojo. they sit outside, nanami pulling his jacket off and hanging it over the back of his chair. he's rolling up his sleeves and gojo's cackling to himself quietly, setting up his phone to mess around (megumi's been calling him an iPad kid, whatever that means). nanami's starting to talk about his day, slowly easing into an interesting topic, and gojo's gotten his phone to stand with slipping and the camera's turned on him, mirth in his smile, eyes peeking over his sunglasses.

"the latest bane of my existence is the unnecessary emails that one receives about forgotten products in their cart," nanami grumbles after he's taken a moment to throw his head back, thinking that this cafe may be the one, but he feels it's too soon to tell. "I know I didn't purchase the products and I didn't forget, I just need a few days to convince myself it's worth spending money on."

gojo's phone is facing upwards and they're both unaware that gojo's phone is very much unlocked and streaming their conversation live, to gojo's thousands of followers. unknown that anybody else is listening, they both keep the conversation going, pausing in-between and letting the other speak so that he could get a bite of his sandwich in and have time to chew before his turn to speak came.

"you know what I like about emails now. it'll automatically filter through which spam email you don't interact and ask if you want to unsubscribe from them. I don't have to go down an email and scroll all the way to the bottom and looking for that tiny link to "unsubscribe" and re-enter my whole email," gojo mindlessly brings to the conversation, "such a pain when I'm in bed"

nanami gives gojo an incredulous look, sitting back, "can you elaborate" and gojo just gives nanami a dumbfounded look, asking, "nanami, do you not delete your spam emails late at night? do you not do a mass deletion? nanami..." gojo leans in and quietly, almost scandalized, "do you update your spam email every hour?"

it's in the evening after nanami's made his way into your apartment, brief case and paper bag in hand - a fresh sandwich from this afternoon's cafe, and gojo's called nanami's phone three times and calls yours for the fourth call ("how on earth did you get gojo's number?" "how did he get MY number"), that nanami answers the call and gojo's talking the moment the line connects, maybe even before.

"podcast. we should do a podcast. nanami. you and me. do you know what a podcast is? no, of course you do. not the point, nanamin, I think we would be great podcasters. after today's talk? oh my god, it would be perfect for us-"

nanami's looking at you, completely dumbfounded, mouthing the words "podcast?" and "today's lunch?" and you take the phone from nanami, muting yourselves whilst gojo still goes on about how nanami is just the man to have as a co-host in a podcast and knowing nanami, he'd keep his identity a secret (no one needs to know what he looks like). you explain that earlier in the day, around lunch, there was a notification that gojo went live and when you clicked on it, it was the most relatable and causal conversation about emails. that there may or may have not several comments asking if gojo and his mystery friend had a podcast, if the live was just a way to promote a new and upcoming project?

it takes several months of research - on good quality recording equipment, topics and subjects as well as educating themselves on those topics and subjects, listening to the structure of other podcasts, going through their respective schedules and setting time aside for both the podcast and free time (nanami would still be working his 9-5 and gojo didn't want to stop teaching at the school), researching how to edit and trying some trail runs (megumi offers to show them what programs he likes and how to save them and upload them - refuses to take nanami's money and quietly accepts the compliments on his skills) (so what if gojo transfers extra money to megumi's account, gojo would immediately walk away cackling any time megumi tried bringing it up).

after promoting the podcast for weeks on gojo, yuji and nobara's respective social media accounts, the big day has come. you can see that nanami's nervous. he's up earlier than usual, louder than usual with his rummaging through the kitchen, drinking one more cup of coffee than usual, not enjoying his morning piece of sweet bread but picking at it, little the flakes of the outside dropping onto the plate. you move to stand behind where nanami's sitting, hands on his shoulders and rubbing reassuringly, dropping a kiss to his nape then to the back of his head, one to his temple, and letting yourself lay gently against his back, you drop a kiss to his cheek, bringing your arms up to hug him from behind, and you kind of just lean the both of you forward. nanami hums mindlessly, closing his eyes in relief.

there's a small celebration for the start of the podcast. a dinner party at a restaurant that gojo's rented out and when getting to speech part, where they thank their friends and close ones for supporting their new big project, nanami kindly asks that his identity remains disclosed (as much as he hates his job, he still needs to make money - not that he didn't have faith in the podcast, but nanami's a realistic man. he hopes the day he can leave his job without worrying about income comes soon). gojo steps beside nanami when nanami steps out for some air, his eyes locked on the summer sky's purples bled into the pinks, welcoming night and gojo thanks nanami. it's quick, but meaningful. enough for nanami to say, "no, thank you, satoru."

nanami addresses gojo as gojo. gojo goes through two months of episodes just giving nanami different nicknames to use for him. each time they introduce themselves, gojo makes clear that yes, this is the same co-host, before dropping the name for that episode; salaryman, 7-3, 8-hour whore (gojo was feeling particularly risqué that day), ba-NANA. then nanami has enough and officially introduces himself as the other co-host, nanami.

their introductions shift from the simple greetings to gojo wholeheartedly, with little faux sniffles, opening the podcast with "the man I'm about to introduce has stolen my heart, my soul; he is my everything. his girlfriend is no competition to me, I know where I stand in his heart, nanami." and nanami greets the podcast and audience by replying to gojo, "the only thing I've stolen from you is your metro card because you don't use it. ever, gojo."

people don't really think of nanami as a playful person, but he has his moments and they typically occur when they're in the middle recording an episode together (gojo and nanami prefer to record in person together - but there have been few times where they couldn't see one another and recorded through video call). they're in the middle of talking about overpowering scents from body sprays and gojo makes a little comment that sometimes nanami smells like an old man when nanami gets a look in his eye and yuji, who is usually present, has to hold his laughter in when he sees the look on nanami's face before he starts his teasing. gojo's just finished talking about how he'll never understand people who bask in overpowering scents when nanami just, "gojo, what's the name of that brand? the one you'd always get the matching body spray and body wash for?"

"nanami... I didn't realize you liked me that much. to know what I use?" gojo says in a flirty manner.

"Axe. It was Axe," and gojo's face shifts into a look of betrayal, "do you remember when you'd spray yourself head to toe... even, well, you know" and although the audience cannot see what he's doing, nanami stands up and pretends to pull his pants open and spray his crotch area.

"it was better than smelling like sweaty basketball shorts"

"ass, you mean better than smelling like ass"

about seven months into their podcast, they've generated a large audience and there's potential to start making big bucks. you and nanami have been together for four years, in talk for moving in together (it only makes sense since you two only spend one or two days of the week apart). you know that nanami is it for you and nanami knows you are it for him. so there's talk about your future together. moving in what just the first step, but you've known each other for years. since nanami's long hair that swept over his forehead and a very angsty adolescence. years of mutual pining until you and nanami came to your senses at the age of 24, deciding that life is too short and enough was enough. after moving into a shared apartment, you make an off-hand (but secretly serious) comment while hanging up nanami's shirts

"you know, with the way the podcast is going, I'd understand you leaving your job" and you don't see the way nanami freezes, peering at you over his shoulder.

nanami doesn't say anything, he stays quiet and just watches as you move around, humming a little to yourself. he isn't surprised that you don't say anything else. he knows you know him, that he's processing the fact that you'd just told him to stop working the job he absolutely fucking despises and to just work on something he likes without having to worry about making money.

you're a dream. nanami doesn't have many dreams, but you are one of them.

it's their two part skincare episodes that gets them sponsors (until they hit their seven months mark, they weren't really thinking about the money that could come from having a large audience).

towards the end of the first part of their skincare episode, gojo reveals that he and nanami both use the tatcha overnight repair and how he got it for nanami because "the salary man is getting paid in stress wrinkles" and nanami's glaring at gojo the whole time, trying to get a word in to stop him but no success (nanami gives gojo a whole speech of promoting a brand for free and how products are going to be harder to come by and -) - "oh nanami's looking at me. I don't think I was suppose to give out our skin routine. it's fine, nanami, we'll just edit out" - which doesn't happen

the second part of the episode starts with gojo reading a notes app apology, "Hello audience. Last week, on the first part of our skincare episodes, I didn't realize ("yes you did" - nanami) that we weren't sponsored by those brands. So I have to make clear that we are NOT sponsored and this is based on our ("your") own thoughts." to which then nanami realizes doesn't make sense and starts to tease gojo the entirety of the episode,

they allow for a few seconds of silence before gojo breaks it, "Also, nanami's upset because you guys sold out the products and those were part a routine that took him a while to find! wait until we give out a code. I thought you guys were supporting us here? That one is on you guys, not me. there is no note on the app for that one"

one of their most successful episodes (aside from the skincare pt. 2 episode where nanami goes into a rant that it's completely and utterly ludicrous that skincare "for men" exists when they could easily use any other skincare and gojo admitting that the packaging of any skincare considered "for men" is "really not that great. we don't even get the cute stuff. it's like black or that black into midnight blue ombre with the words 'for men'") is the one where they share their experiences at their jobs outside of their podcast.

gojo goes into the details of how he loves teaching and he's grateful for his students. he admits he's still in contact with some of his first students and how he's grateful to have had any impact on any of his students lives just like they've done for him. he doesn't give the names, but he names the little habits he's picked up or little tidbit information he learned from some students that he still keeps in his head (mostly food spots they've recommended him from their adventures in Tokyo). gojo can admit that though he may really love teaching, he knows he may not have the best teaching skills, but he takes the moment to thank his students, even if they won't hear it, for putting up with him and letting him do what he loves while learning to be better

it's quiet for a bit before nanami releases a long exhale, pressing back into his chair and then sits back up, close to the mic and just speaks. admitting he's never had a dream job nor does he think that he has a purpose to live, only to just live and experience. he has money on his mind and his dream of retiring with a good amount saved so he can live stress free in the country side, somewhere peaceful and with scenery. nanami admits that he used to think that if he were to just disappear nobody would've cared, but things are different now. nanami doesn't go into much more detail, but he thanks the audience, for taking a chance on them and for giving him purpose.

when gojo and nanami make one year with their podcast and have gotten themselves sponsors, a large following, and start to see revenue coming in, the topic of nanami leaving his job comes up again.

it's a late afternoon when you bring it up again. the windows are open and you've just finished dinner together, lying on the couch. nanami's lying on top of you, head against your chest and body between your legs. there's soft music playing and you almost feel bad for bringing it up when he's so relaxed, but you want to see him like this all the time.

"nanami..." you start quietly, slowing the ministrations of your fingers against his scalp, "why won't you leave the office?"

you can tell he's hesitant to answer, his body rigid against yours, but you move your other hand to caress his back, eyes focused him. it takes a moment before nanami gently rests his chin on your sternum, your hand moving from his scalp to the nape.

and you know why, but you need to hear it from him.

he remains silent, his eyes looking over your face. you offer him a soft, encouraging smile, winking at him. the corners of his lips twitch briefly before he exhales.

"I have two reasons. The first being that throughout all the success we've seen with our project, with the podcast, I can't fight off the lingering fear that it won't last," he closes his eyes, "and the second... the second is that I have a hard time accepting no longer working for that shit job. don't get me wrong, I should've left long ago, but not having a stable source of -"

"I can support us," you simply state, cutting him off, "I make enough to support us both. I want to see you reach your dream"

it's no one's business but nanami and your's what happens afterwards. nanami expresses the guilt he feels if he leaves you to be financially responsible for the both of you, because it's not pride that stops nanami, it's that fucking guilt (is this too much to ask? what if get tired of me not working? what if the podcast isn't enough? what if he never makes enough? what if-) but you remind him of the sponsors and the revenue that they've started to see since the seventh month mark of their podcast. "I enjoy what I do, nanami. I just want the same for you, honey."

so what if the rest of the night was devoted to worshipping you, lips touching every inch of skin, hands smoothing over every dip, curve, and mark. his head between your legs, a man starved and getting a taste of a heaven, listening to the sound of the moans and wishing he could bottle the sound up.

leaving his job doesn't happen right away. it takes nanami a little over a month of working through that budding guilt and your reassurance for him to decide he's going to quit after the next pay check - no two week notice. that job doesn't deserve a notice. so at 4:55pm, nanami grabs his things (nanami doesn't keep much personal things at his desk so packing up is easy, everything fits in his bag) and pops into his boss's office, simply stating he quits and that his boss can go fuck himself for the shady shit they do at this job before leaving.

the transition is a little weird, but it's short - takes about a week. it starts with nanami sleeping past 6:30am and waking up an hour later. no alarm, just the sound of you moving around the room, the smell of coffee and breakfast. a quiet good morning, press to his lips, "breakfast is on the table. I'm leaving soon" and so nanami changes, eats, and waits for you, walking you to the train station. waits for you in the afternoon, too, to walk you home.

nanami's days now include plenty of time to experiment with his cooking (he's always been foodie) - he tries out dishes from different cultures. nanami's days also include doing things he enjoys. he's reading all kinds of books that he can get his hands on, exploring new areas of Tokyo, considering spending some time at the school (yuji has been trying to get nanami to come down at least twice a week - just to talk to him and nanami can't lie, he's almost convinced).

they don't change their podcast much as the time goes by. they keep the intros, they hire a few more people to help with the research but gojo's little flirty intros are still there and the random venting before starting their conversation topic is still there. but they have added some new stuff.

they have a little jingle play. nothing fancy, nothing long. simple and something both nanami and gojo like. there's been a few episodes where you've made random appearances and other episodes where they've somehow roped you into staying for majority of the conversation ("oh, I don't think they want to hear about me, love. this is your podcast") but you've noticed the smile that settles on nanami's face when you've been roped in to give your opinion by gojo.

it's when they're about to hit two years that they've decided to have a q&a. it's on an instagram live (their official podcast account) where they announce that the audience have two weeks to submit questions ( and although they can't see him, nanami asks everyone to be respectful and mindful of the things they ask). it's also the first time their audience sees you, peeping over gojo's shoulder, eyes wide at the viewer count.

that episode, you officially introduce yourself to their audience. a nickname that you go by with close friends. gojo jokingly mentions that they should just call you nanami as well, causing nanami to choke on his water, checks flushed pink (you've had the talk about marriage - both in favor, but there's no need for everybody else to find out) and glaring at gojo. you just laugh it off bashfully, giving nanami's hand a little squeeze before moving on to acting as the mc.

some questions you have to skip, others you have to show nanami and gojo before actually asking them.

"do we know what nanami looks like?" you read aloud, not fighting back at the smile as you decide to answer that one for them, "you might know if you've seen gojo's personal account, but it might be hard to figure out - gojo doesn't tag people" and nanami's never been more grateful for not having an instagram account

there's questions about how nanami and gojo met ("school" - "oh you should've seen nanami-kun's hair back then!"), if anything's changed from the beginning of the podcast ("yes, I'm living my dream. thank you," and you're so proud of them both), if they have plans to create any other forms of content, how the podcast has effected their personal lives, all kinds of questions.

three months later, nanami proposes in malaysia.

he doesn't get down on one knee. he places the ring inside of his book as a bookmark, asks you to hold on it while he starts to unpack your picnic lunch and you're curious. a bookmark like that? causing such an odd spacing? you can't help yourself and you hold the book up to your eye level, peeking in (like he knows you would). when you notice that it's a ring, you immediately let the book fall between your legs and look at nanami with glassy eyes. he's no longer laying out lunch, but his elbow is resting on his knee and his chin on his palm, an easy smile on his lips. it's dream-like, seeing him like this. relaxed, hair free of gel and face free of worry, of stress.

you come back engaged and the wedding happens a two months later. you've been together for years, you live together - why wait another few years to be bonded by a piece of paper? the ceremony is small and only close friends and relatives are invited.

a picture from your small ceremony is the only picture nanami uses to give their audience something to end their curiosity.

it's picture of you looking back over your shoulder, the biggest and brightest smile nanami's ever seen on your lips, at the camera. nanami's standing beside, not bothering with the camera, but his eyes are on you and there's a soft, admiring smile. your hand is clasped over his right elbow and his right hand is over his heart. gojo posts it on his personal account, captioning it "congratulations to the nanami's."

and nanami doesn't regret it. any of it. he wishes he did the podcast sooner. he's grateful for the bonds built between him and the kids (yuji, megumi, and nobara) because of this, how he and gojo understand each other, for gojo's friendship, for being able to live his dream and for the courage and strength that he's built from doing something on a whim. he's eternally grateful for it all.

tagging: @vennilavee

#nanami kento x reader #nanami imagine #nanami x reader #nanami x oc #jjk fic #jjk imagine #fun

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kuroosweakness · 4 years

Text

things the haikyuu boys did when they had a crush on you

miya atsumu

started wearing whatever you really liked wearing/complimented him on. if you mentioned the print on his shirt, you best bet he’ll be wearing that shirt for a whole week straight. a shirt he once thought nothing of is now his favorite shirt.

“‘tsumu, why don’t you try changing. you know, y/n could probably smell you a mile away,” osamu said to atsumu one morning as they were walking to school.

“nuh uh,” atsumu quipped back. “i washed it with the detergent y/n likes.”

“oh so you finally learned how the washing machine works?”

“‘samu you’re ruining it for me.”

asked overly-personal questions. not to be creepy or weird, but because he cherished the information he knew about you that no one else did; it made him feel special

“y/n, do you have any big regrets?”

“is there um, anyone you feel really happy around?”

“what’s your guilty pleasure? c’mon everyone has them.”

“have you ever been bullied?”

got visibly irritated whenever another guy interrupted your conversation with him. or if you were just smiling too hard when talking to a guy he doesn’t know about

“if you keep frowning like that, you’ll look like a grandpa by next year,” osamu said right before biting into his onigiri.

“shut up, ‘samu,” he groaned, trying his best to distract himself from the fact that you looked happier talking to another guy than him. did you smile that hard when he made a joke? he sure hopes so :’

kuroo tetsurou

pointed out the smallest differences in you. he noticed the slightest changes in your body language, style, mood, etc etc. on your bad days, he desperately wanted to ask if anything was wrong, but didn’t want to risk overstepping boundaries. so he just asked “how’s your day?” and even if you answered with a “good/fine/okay” he would know you weren’t telling the full truth

if you came to school wearing a brand new pair of shoes, he’ll point it out and tease you all about it. if you showed up with a new hairstyle, kuroo won’t say anything, but you can tell he noticed because of the way he looks at it.

even if you cut off three centimeters of your hair, he probably noticed.

kept trying to fix his appearance around you

he tried making it really subtle too. he’ll smooth down his jacket, try to flatten down his hair, and straighten his collar around you in hopes that it’ll make him look a bit better (he’s such a cutie 🥺 okay who’s gonna tell him that he’s looks perfectly fine the way he is)

teased you, in a flattering way. the type of teasing where you have to force yourself from smiling too hard. and he only does it to you! no one else is worth his teasing

but the moment someone else starts teasing you, he’d act a little ... distant. he’d back off and just watch you interact with them. if you look uncomfortable, he’d immediately put a stop to it and put them back in their place.

called you by a nickname only he uses

at first, he used it as a joke. but overtime, it just stuck and now it doesn’t feel right for him to call you by your first name. again, the annoyance is clear on his face when someone called you by the same nickname

~~~

when you first met kenma, he said, “y/n? i’ve heard a lot *glances at kuroo* about you.”

suna rintarou

lowkey protects you. such as putting an arm in front of you, shielding you with his body, draping his jacket over your head, lending you his umbrella, that type of stuff (ugh just kiss already)

he acted like it was no big deal. it’s not like he’d admit it was on his mind for a whole week. the miya twins knew something was up when suna suggested watching a romance movie. (suna needed new scenarios with you in his head)

subtly invited you everywhere, made excuses to be around you

“hey, we have a game on saturday at *specific location* in case you wanna come”

“since they’re having a buy-one-get-one-free, it’ll be a shame if you didn’t come along ...”

“since we’re both headed towards that place, might as well go together”

unexpectedly defended you/your opinion in conversations and class. even though suna rarely talks in class, if you brought up a point/answer, he’d defend it

sakusa kiyoomi

had trouble meeting your eyes without blushing

even with his mask on, you could see the redness spread across his cheekbones whenever you spoke to him.

always plopped himself in a seat close to you, even with all those other empty seats

his became more soft, gentle, and high-pitched around you, his posture became less stiff

it’s subtle; he didn’t even notice a change in his own voice. maybe because there’s nothing else on his mind when he’s talking to you?

always walked a little bit slower in the hallways when he saw you pass by and eyed you, hoping that you’d notice him like the way he noticed you

bokuto koutarou

stumbled with his words and forgot basic things around you

“class? what do you mean by ‘we have to go to class’??”

listened intently to everything you said and memorized facts about you better than his vocabulary words

“akaashi, did you know that y/n’s favorite ice cream flavor is ...”

“nope, y/n can’t make it today. how do i know? because they told me in advance :D oh wait, y/n’s not gonna be here today?? D’:”

made a handshake with you to do in front of everyone to show off that your connection with him is special

the pride he felt when everyone gathered around to watch you and him do your special handshake 🥺

got you gifts out of nowhere simply because you said you liked it

his mindset goes: getting y/n ___ = y/n happy :) i better get it for them before someone does

tendou satori

always lends you his stationary and whenever he forgets a pencil, you’re the first person he asks. don’t worry, he always returns them right after :)

he also loves “borrowing” your personal things. the idea of you trusting him is really special to him. plus, whenever someone asks him where he got it, he gets to say, “oh, it’s y/n’s.”

loves, loves, loves passing notes in class!!

he kept all of your conversations with him in a special little box hidden in his room.

complimented the little things he knows you care about!

he loves seeing that beautiful smile of yours while knowing he’s the cause of it.

he smiles so much around you <33 tendou’s smile is so contagious it’s hard to be sad around him. not to mention he always knows how to cheer you up :’

iwaizumi hajime

whenever his friends talked about hot actors and classmates they found attractive, he never joined in. (if you were there, he’d be glancing at you ever-so-often)

he’d always offer to walk/drive you home. every single day. even if you insisted that he didn’t need to, it would take another five minutes of convincing him. if you said yes, he happily got you home. no matter what occasion, he always asked you. it was your regular, daily routine with him :)

made jokes only for you to hear. he loved having inside jokes with you that only you two understood. the confusion on other peoples’ faces was satisfying.

akaashi keiji

had a lot of sympathy for you over small things (and big things too, of course)

if your weekend plans got messed up, if you lost your jacket, forgot your stationary, tripped on the stairs, he’s the person you go to to talk about these things. he never belittles your struggles and always finds a way to help you feel better

always checked in with you and made sure you had a lunch to eat

even if your classroom is across the campus, you better expect him to be at the front door after your class is over

tried his best to get to know your friends and family (and pets!)

akaashi best boy 🥺 the way he sees your friends and family as his own because he knows how much they matter to you

-> a/n: i hope you like these hehe :))

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ohworm-writes · 3 years

Note

hello! :) so u know how kuon has a crush on sniper right ? can i get an imagine where reader is jealous bc of kuon, cuz u know, her crush on sniper etc etc (sorry i'm just vv lazy at typing), and how sniper reacts to it ?? can u make it like they're still friends but have mutual feelings for each other as they hang out as a unit, and they get together in the end bc sum confessions happened !! sorry if u don't get it i'm rlly bad at explaining but thank u in advance if u do this !! <33

High-Rise Invasion/Tenkuu Shinpan: Sniper Mask Boyfriend Imagine

high-rise invasion/tenkuu shinpan masterlist

‼ Jealous Reader (over Kuon) + Make up + Confession ‼

Featuring: Sniper Mask, Yuri Honjo, Mayuko Nise (implied), Kuon Shinzaki (implied)

Warnings: frustrated Y/n, crushes, jealousy

a/n - good GODS this has been in my inbox for a while and i’m so so so sorry for not posting it way sooner! hopefully you see this anon, and i hope you enjoy!

content below the cut!

you had developed a crush on the man in the mask ever since you first joined Yuri's little group

you couldn't really tell what it was the drew you to him

he was silent, dismissive, and he was a Mask for goodness sake!

but none of that deterred you from the attraction you garnered for him

you always found yourself trying to interact with him

whether it was offering your help with something that he was doing, or simply keeping him company

most times he brushed you off, walking away and not giving you an answer

other times he silently accepted your offer

those times the two of you would sit in comfortable silence, just enjoying one another's presence

you cherish moments like these for a very specific reason

Kuon

now you had nothing against the girl!

... at first

she seemed nice enough, always eager to help, and full of ignorant innocence

but then you realized her (very obvious) crush on the masked man

the way she got flustered around him so easily

the way she clung to him like a lost child

at first, you thought maybe she saw him as a parental figure, seeing how young she was

but that thought was (very) quickly thrown to the wind when you saw her wrapped up in his jacket, blushing like the schoolgirl she was and giggling to herself

so what she liked him? you liked him too, maybe the two of you could bond over that!

that's what you told yourself

of course, you never acted on it

it was simple, you were too jealous to do so

you noticed how Sniper Mask welcomed all her little instances without a care in the world

not giving a damn when she clung to him

or batting an eye at her obvious fangirling

it pissed you off

naturally, you began to avoid Kuon

and Sniper Mask simultaneously

you avoided the two of them whenever you could

when you saw them walking towards you, you kept to the opposite side of the wall and walked quickly past them

when you all usually ate together, you picked up your food and ate outside

you were simply, undeniably jealous

you didn't think Sniper Mask cared about it, not that you could tell under his mask

but in actuality, he was confused as to why you avoided him all of the sudden

so, he opted to ask you one day

You shut the door to the dining room rather aggressively as you exited, but you couldn't care less. You let your body slump against the adjacent wall, your plate of food resting on your lap.

Today had been... exhausting, to say the least. Kuon was on her usual actions of pining over 'Mr. Mask', crossing your way a few more times than you would have liked. During your meeting earlier with her and Yuri, your fellow mouthless masked allies, she had the gall to talk on and on about how much she adored him.

You hated it.

You looked down at your food, a scowl finding its place on your features. You glared at it, pushing the pieces around with your fork, not noticing a door open and close right in front of you.

"Jesus, if that food was alive, it would be 6 feet under with the glare you're giving it." You hear a gruff voice call from in front of you. A voice you would rather not be hearing right now.

You continue to move around the food, staying silent as the man awkwardly stands in front of you, unsure of what to do with himself in this situation. "Is it, uh, okay if I sit here?" He asks, which finally makes you look up.

He had a plate of food between his own hands, his jacket gone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His mask covered his face, per usual, but it seemed much more lopsided than usual.

You give him a shrug in response, looking back down at your food again. He stands there for a moment, before taking a seat right next to you, your knees almost touching. "You don't mind if I eat with you, right?"

His question makes your eye twitch. Was he seriously trying to be all buddy-buddy with you now? You shrugged again, not giving him as much as a single word.

You heard him sigh, setting his food to the side before he speaks again. "Alright, what's going on?" He asks, making your body tense up. "Nothing." You shoot back, scowling.

"What happened to the Y/n that stayed up and talked about their life for hours? What happened to the Y/n that told me horrible jokes to try and get a reaction out of me? Huh? What happened to them?"

That broke you.

You were angry, furious even. Was he trying to blame this on you? You didn't do anything wrong! If it wasn't for Kuon, maybe you would still be that person! If it wasn't for her, you could still be friends with him! You could be-

"What?" You hear him say softly, much softer than his previous tone. Shit, did you say that out loud? "Yeah, you did." He says again, looking at you with a concerned expression on his face, not that you could tell.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lash out. I just- I’ve been-" You stutter, trying to find the right words. He laughs at that, actually laughs at it.

His laugh is hearty, warm, almost inviting you to laugh along with him. You don't, but he quickly composes himself, making your head turn towards him.

"Why on Earth were you jealous of Kuon?" He asks honestly, watching at how the invisible gears turn in your head, searching for an answer. You sigh heavily, running a hand across your face as you shake your hands while you speak.

"I just- she’s always there with you. She's latched onto you 24/7! I can't get 5 minutes alone with you before she comes barging in." You rant, frustration evident in your shaky voice.

"I just wanted to be your friend, be close with you. I can never do that because she's-she's there." You groan, hugging yourself with your arms. "I sound like a selfish idiot now, huh?"

You laugh dryly, frowning. He sighs, but a smile plays at his lips. "Y/n." He begins, his hand resting you your forearm. "You know she would never purposefully do that. She just, she has an infatuation with me I guess."

He sighs dramatically, earning a chuckle from you. "But." He tells you, watching your eyes as he speaks. "That doesn't mean I didn't miss you."

Your heart skips a beat at his comment, face flushing softly. "Kuon also misses you. You might not have caught onto it, but she looks up to you." He explains, smiling at how your expression softens, mumbling a soft 'she does?' to him.

He nods, laughing once more. "Come on, have dinner with the rest of us. We can't have you sitting alone out here anymore." You roll your eyes, but take him up on his word. He leads you back to the other, Kuon frantically waving over to the two of you the second you pass through the door.

"Y/n! Come sit with me!" She yells excitedly. Maybe you were wrong about her.

after that interaction, the three of you were all on much better terms

yes, kuon still had her habits, but he toned them WAY down after you explained to her how it made you feel

she teased the hell out of you for it too

you, of course, shrugged it off

but you never told her that she was wrong

you were happy to be on good terms with Sniper Mask again

he made a lot more time for you

your old interactions coming back at full force, and some new ones

he loved to take you on little walks on the high rises

he also made it a point to teach you how to shoot his rifle

which was terrifying, but exhilarating

you fell for him harder and harder every day

one day, you ranted your feelings out to Kuon

and while she wasn't surprised, it warmed her heart to see how much you loved him

yes, she crushed on him too, but that didn't take away from the obvious connection she saw between the two of you

unbeknownst to you, Sniper Mask had come to her about the same things

his usually cold demeanor broke whenever he talked with you

he genuinely enjoyed your company, he wanted more of it

and then some

so, she put a plan together

operation "get Mr. Mask and Y/n together" is a go!

she took it all very seriously

making sure you guys get paired together for scouting missions? that's all her

convincing Sniper Mask to get you little gifts and things? of course

overall, the best wing-woman you could ask for

however, the one thing she didn't have anything to do with was his confession to you

he could have used her help with it, that much was clear

but he wanted to tell you how he felt, no help necessary

Sniper Mask had told you earlier this morning to meet you at his room when the sunset before he rushed to get out of your vicinity like you were a plague. Granted, it hurt your feelings, but you couldn't stand him up.

You knocked gently on the wooden door, stepping back and waiting patiently for it to open. After about a minute, while you had heard nothing, you went to knock again.

Your efforts were proved useless as the door swung open hastily, revealing a disheveled Sniper Mask. His usual blazer and fedora were long forgotten, his hair messy, strands pointing this way and that. His mask sat lopsided on his face, still covering it fully.

"H-hey Y/n." He mumbled out, you offered him a wave as he awkwardly shuffled to the side, opening the door as an incentive for you to come in. You stepped inside, walking to the center of the room as you heard him close the door behind you.

You turned to speak to him again, but those thoughts were cast aside as you felt his hands settle onto your cheeks and his lips molding with yours. It startled you, you're eyes open in shock as you looked at him. His mask was completely off, thrown somewhere in the room, but he didn't seem to have a care in the world.

You quickly melted into the kiss, bringing your hands up to gently hold onto his forearms. He hummed, taking a moment before pulling away, leaving the two of you to gasp for air as he rested his forehead against yours. You opened your eyes to meet his, full of adoration.

"I, uh, I think I'm in love with you?" It was more of a question, but you took it happily. You laughed softly, your fingers rubbing small circles in his forearms.

"Was that what that was?"

#sniper mask #sniper mask x reader #tenkuu shinpan #tenkuu shinpan x reader #high rise invasion #high rise invasion x reader #tenkuu shinpan headcanons #high rise invasion headcanons #sniper mask headcanons #yuka makoto #yuka makoto x reader #yuka makoto headcanons #headcanons #x reader #anime x reader #request #worm answers #kuon + reader

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justoneacatperson · 3 years

Text

First Date

This is reupload from my old blog!

request by @therealpotatobish

TodoDeku x Fem! Reader

Date with Todoroki and Midoriya is, to put it mildly - chaos. Where do I start?

First we have Todoroki. Very handsome young man with two-tone hair and eyes. We all know that Shoto is not familiar with many things, his childhood was not very colorful and rosy, not at all.

He has not seen his parents take care of each other or behave like a couple, so he is not very familiar with how to treat a person he likes.

He didn’t even realize he liked Midoriya when he was still a student at U.A. It was good that there were his sister to explain to him what those feelings were.

We have already seen that he takes things seriously and does not understand jokes or metaphors, so it takes time to work with him.

Certainly his relationship with Izuku helped him a lot. He showed him what love, care and empathy are, but for him things are complicated again. He and Izuku will date a woman, a woman they have been in love with since their school years in the U.A. Shoto doesn’t know how to treat a woman and what they would like.

We also have the next one, namely Midoriya. Our broccoli boy has remained the same shy young man, despite his fame as the new No.1 hero, this part of him has not changed.

He would certainly do better than Todoroki, but his still shy nature worries him that he won’t be able to talk to you.

They are both worried about your reaction to everything. They have never heard that you like someone, nor have there been rumors that you are with someone, they didn’t even know if you like boys !? Nevertheless, you accepted their invitation to a date, at least they managed to make it clear that they were inviting you to a date, a DATE, and you were fine with that.

Now was the date where they would know if they had a chance with you, and here they were, sitting at the reserved table, waiting for you to come.

21:27p.m

Deku kept a close eye on his watch, looking at every minute. They had arrived about ten minutes ago and were sitting nervously at the table, well, Izuku was moving nervously, and Shoto was sitting meekly, staring at one dot, trying to keep his mind tidy and clear.

-“She will come, Midoriya, our dateis at 9:30p.m.” Todoroki exclaimed, grabbing his boyfriend’s hand under the table to reassure him.

-“Ah, I know, Shoto-san, but that doesn’t make me any less nervous.” the green-haired man replied, smiling at his partner. -“We have been waiting for a long time for the chance to invite her and the fact that she agreed and now we will have a date makes me feel surreal. It’s as if I’ve finally reached a goal that I thought was impossible. It’s very strange that happens, I still consider it unrealistic.”

The two-colored man looked at him with surprised heterochromic eyes. Despite their years together, the things they went through could not be compared to that. And the fact that Deku feels that way surprises him. He is also surprised that he was able to describe how he felt too.

It felt like he was 17 again in his 2nd year at U.A. When he shared his feelings to Midoriya. Confused, scared, excited. He never believed that he would fall in love or be able to be a partner, the love of someone else.

A small smile crept across his face. Todoroki leaned over to his partner, leaning his head on his shoulder. Their physique has changed and evolved over the years. Already in his mid-twenties, Deku had grown much taller than his school years. He was now towering over Shoto.

Midoriya smiled, leaning against Shoto, planting a kiss on his white and red hair. The two parted, looking up at a door that could be heard opening and closing. 20:30, you arrived just in time.

You looked around the restaurant in confusion, looking for your table. Midoriya instinctively raised his hand, waving at you and shouting. -“(Y/n)-chan!” you looked up at them, a wide smile appeared on your face, bringing butterflies into the stomachs of both heroes.

-“Hey, Deku, Sho!” you replied, going to them.

Midoriya wanted to make a good impression by taking your jacket and pulling your chair backward to sit, but you came like a whirlwind, sitting hastily in the seat in front of them. Obviously there will be no good first impression.

-“Oh, I was in such a hurry so as not to be late.” you started, removing your jacket, leaving it on the back of the chair. - “I was nervous not to be late because there was a traffic jam on the road. After I managed to park it took me time to find the restaurant and…”

Deku waved his arms in front of him, trying to reassure you that you weren’t late, sharing his own worries about not being late. So you two became a muttering mess, and Todoroki rested his chin on his hand, happily watching the scene in front of him. Cute.

-“You are not late, you have nothing to worry about.” the two-colored man called out of nowhere, stopping you and Izuku.

-“It’s good to know.” you said calmly, leaving your hands on the table. -“Long time no see.”

-“Since our graduation in the U.A.” added the green-haired man, rubbing the back of his head.

-“What’s happen with you? I last heard you joined Selkie’s agency.” you nodded in agreement to Shoto.

-“Yes, my quirk would be very welcome in sea battles.”

-“Are you adapting fast?” Deku asked cheerfully.

-“Yes, the hero Manual is there too. We have some pretty similar quirks, so he was so kind to help me adapt.” you replied, controlling the water in your glass with your quirk, making it take the shape of a snake and move along the walls of your glass in a circle.

-“This is very good.” exclaimed the hero, tying his hands on the table.

They both felt a little awkward, not knowing how to continue the conversation, fortunately the waitress saved them by giving them the menus. You opened the menu of hard leather covers, looking at the variety of foods.

-“Oh, hey, Sho, they have a cold soba.” you said excitedly, showing him the menu on the first page.

-“So I’ll order a cold soba.” the two-colored man replied before receiving muttering from Midoriya.

-“But, Sho, we have a whole pot full of soba!” you laughed at their interaction, attracting their attention.

-“What?” they both asked at the same time.

-“Nothing, you just haven’t changed since we graduated from the U.A.” you said with a laugh. Deku giggled too, smiling at you.

-“What do you mean? We look the same way we did 7 years ago?” Todoroki asked confusedly, looking at himself and his boyfriend and again to himself. You and Izuku looked at each other and almost fell from your seats with your boisterous laughter. -“Ah?”

-“O-oh…. Sho!” tears formed in the corners of your eyes, wiping them with your hand. -“You’re still funny!”

-“Funny?”

-“Yes.” the green-haired man replied, leaning his head on his partner’s shoulder.

The three of you ordered a teishoku, receiving it in about 30 minutes. Everyone enjoy their food before Todoroki calls.

-“(Y/n), do you see our old class?” you swallowed your food before answering.

-“Yes, even with some very often.” you said, playing with your chopsticks, twisting them between your fingers and doing tricks with them. -“Most often I go out with Kaminari, by some chance it turned out that we work in the same agency.”

-“Kaminari-san?” Deku exclaimed, looking at you in astonishment. You nodded, uttering a little “Uhm.”

-“All right, that’s nice! We haven’t heard from Denki.”

-“Are you close to each other?” Shoto asked, taking another bite of his meal.

-“I’d say yes. We go out often, we message to each other, he’s very cute. He’s also grown a lot from UA, he’s become more responsible and he controls his quirk much better. We have a lot of fun together. We have dinners for us, in which we are on the couch at my or his home and eating popcorn while watching scary movies. "you said with a smile on your face.

-"Oh, I understand…” Todoroki replied, bowing his head over his food, hiding his face through his hair, which he had left to grow for reaching a length where he could tie it in a bun.

Izuku reached under the table, gripping his boyfriend’s thigh, rubbing it lightly to offer support. He knew his boyfriend’s lack of confidence in relationships. He has always worried about whether he is doing well as a partner and doing everything right.

Talking about a boy (and you’re not the person who talks a lot or often about people, especially boys), who is the opposite of his personality and sees that you’re really having fun with him, feels like someone hit him with wet rag across the face.

-“And you guys…” you called, bringing them both back to reality. -“How are you? The press is very interested in your relationship.” you smiled slyly.

-“So… After we graduated from UA, Shoto and I went to Endeavor’s agency, as his partners in catching villains. That was until we turned 22, All Might offered to take his agency… And I took it.” he replied, scratching the back of his head where his undercut was. -“The press found out about my relationship with Todoroki when I took the agency and there were hundreds of news stories that said, ‘Hero No.1 is in a relationship with Endeavor’s son’.”

-”O!?”

-“Yes, and still receives dozens of emails a day, invitations for interviews about our relationship.”

-“It’s too much for you. The press hasn’t learned for so many years that the heroes have a private life that they usually keep to themselves and don’t want to make it public. The personal space of the heroes must be respected.” you said and turned to Todoroki. -“And for so many years as a pro-hero, people have kept leading you the 'son of Endeavor,’ and that’s all you’re known for.”

-“It’s annoying.” Todoroki replied, making you and Deku giggle a little.

-“Well, those are just words from older people in Japan.” the green-haired man exclaimed, rubbing his boyfriend’s thigh. -“I am sure that the young generation will remember you with your name and your deeds.”

-“You’re right.” said his partner.

-“Ah, (Y/n)-san, do you happen to be in a relationship or dating someone?” Midoriya asked you. Shoto immediately ran one hand under the table, squeezing his thigh - too early, Midoriya.

-“O!?” you opened your eyes wide to them from the sudden question. -“No, I’m not in a relationship, I’m not dating anyone. Why do you ask?”

-“Uhhh…” and now was the scariest part of this meeting - to tell you. Shoto looked at Izuku out of the corner of his eye, looking for an answer as to what to do. -“With Shoto we wanted to ask you something…”

-“Yes…” you said under your breath.

-“Would you like to be with us?” Todoroki asked suddenly, leaning back in his chair.

You and Deku looked shocked at the two-colored man. You dropped your chopsticks as you watched Sho like you saw a ghost. Izuku immediately started waving his arms, trying to reassure you, saying that they were not forcing you to be in relationship with them, that they would not be in a hurry, that they would not be angry if you refused, and ect.

It just took you a moment to process Shoto’s question. They wanted to date you? Really? You were like close friends during your school years, but you didn’t think they had any other than platonic feelings about you. They were both open and comfortable, both shy and anxious around you or when talking to you. You wouldn’t be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for them in the U.A., but once you found out they were in a relationship, it discouraged you a lot.

-“So?” Todoroki called again.

-“Sho, calm down, give her ti…”

-“Yes.” you replied, getting “Uh!?” from them. - “I accept, I would like to date you.”

-“Really?” Midoriya asked in surprise.

-“Yes…” you said, tying your hands on the table. -“I would just ask for time to get used to, as this will be my first relationship in my life, especially with more than one person.”

-“We’ll give you all the time you need.” Todoroki said, taking your hand in his. Where did you get this confidence? - Izuku wondered.

-”Thanks.”

-“So… should we continue our dinner to celebrate our relationship?” the green-haired man asked cheerfully.

-“Yes!” you and Shoto answered at the same time.

#bnha poly #mha poly #tododeku #tododeku x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku x reader #deku x reader

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hansolmates · 4 years

Text

busted in busan

summary; you’re snowbound at the airport, when the only thing you want is to be homebound. your anxieties heighten as the snow rises, worried that you won’t make it in time for christmas where your fiancé and his parents expect you—picture perfect. when all flights are cancelled due to a massive storm, you have to turn to the hands of an unlikely, hard-headed hero who knows the fastest way out of busan (and into your heart) pairing; jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; a christmas detour!au, fluff, angst, slice of life, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, pining, this is a total romcom, hallmark movie galore! tw–microcheating (or not however you look at it) mentions of sex, making out, profanity w/c; 10k a/n; for @suhdays holiday hallmark event! this event was totally up my lane, i couldn’t wait to post it! a huge thank u for @eerieedits for making this wonderful fic banner! this is totally unedited, i’ll to go back to it tonight but pls enjoy! for those of u who need a little more christmas charm this year, this is for u

if you loved this icy couple, please consider giving it a like n’share!⛄⛄⛄

“The Korean Air 1102 flight from Gimhae International Airport to Incheon International Airport will be delayed six hours due to the intense weather conditions. Please be on standby for any further updates.”

You’re twitching, fighting the urge to nibble on your nails because you’ve just got them done for Christmas. They’re a sleek champagne gold, because your fiancé insisted that they’re far more mature than your usual red and brown reindeer art. This is awful, and is only going to get progressively worse as the snow builds and builds. Right now the weather isn’t that bad, the snow isn’t even sticking to the ground and—oh.

Gnawing at your lip, your fingers brush over the cold window, a clear view of the landing strip you should currently be boarding. The touch is icy, and the pads of your fingers are enveloped in little rings of fog at the sudden warmth nudging the glass. Upon closer inspection and a squint of your eyes reveal that in fact, the snow is now sticking to the ground. Big, fat clumps are covering the freeway and destroying your Christmas plans.

Your fiancé will understand if you’re a little late for their Christmas Eve party, but you’re not sure if his parents will. You’ve been on livewire all week, wanting to at least spend the morning of Christmas Eve with your family back home. Knowing that your fiancé’s Christmas Eve party would run until very late, you booked a noon flight with enough time to get ready and impress his parents. Evidently, it was an ill-prepared idea.

Immediately falling into your terminal’s line, you hope that you can talk with the receptionist in hopes they could put you at ease.

“How soon will you announce our flight’s departure?” A sad smile.

“Is there any way you can put me on the next possible flight?” A shake of the head.

“Will the weather let up?” A frown.

Every bit of rejection weighs you down, and you’ve run out of questions to ask. For a receptionist, she’s not very receptive.

“C’mon lady, you’re holding up the line,” a voice tugs you from behind, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta get down to the city on Christmas.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, wanting to slap the rudeness off this man’s face. Instead of falling back in line, you move to the side to glare at him. He’s unfortunately attractive, albeit in a rugged sort-of way—nothing like your fiancé. The leather jacket that he carries tall is worn and crackly at the collar. Wavy dark hair he constantly has to hold back, a gesture that looks flirtatious and to your chagrin the receptionist is definitely recepting to him.

“Your refund should be processed in about two to four business days, Mr. Jeon,” the receptionist murmurs, the simultaneously sultry and chirpy voice making you twitch in your spot. Maybe if you drank a cup of tall, dark and handsome you’d be getting the same kind of treatment.

“Thanks,” he replies shortly, and it’s then you notice the extremely large luggage next to him. It’s the size of you, and despite the broad shoulders under the baggy jacket, he lugs it with careful force, making sure not to bump into anyone as he wheels it away from the counter.

It seems that your trainers have a mind of your own as you follow him down the terminal. He side eyes you as your feet pick up the pace to match his long legs, but he waits for you to say something first.

“Why did you ask for a refund?” you ask, frowning at him, “the flight is only delayed.”

He scoffs, “Do you see the snow? They’re just saying it’s delayed so they can hold onto your money a little longer. Besides, it’s a win-win. I get my refund sooner and some other poor sap can take the ticket and wait until five in the morning.”

“Five A.M.,” you exhale to yourself, slowing down.

It would be too late by then, far too late. Your shoulders slump, people start to bump into you without a care.

“Besides,” you hear his voice say from your stricken form, “I had a backup plan.”

That’s when your feet start to burn up, and you whip around to pump your legs, catching up with the man who’s already far down the hall. “What kind of backup plan?” you blurt, raising your voice because the crowds are starting to get noisier and deeper the further you follow him.

He hooks his lips into a confused frown, “You’re awfully nosy.”

“I’m in a pinch, my fiancé’s parents will kill me if I don’t show up to their party tonight.”

“Your fiancé’s parents… will kill you?”

“That’s an exaggeration,” you cough, immediately feeling self-conscious, “they’d kill me with their eyes. They’re really big, really pretty corporate people. They have high expectations for their future in-law.”

“Ah, and you're the country pumpkin who managed to sweep the rich guy off his feet?”

“Something like that,” you reply, rocking on your heels, “my dad was his dad’s former secretary, and we grew up together.”

The stranger with a plan stops in front of a long line. It’s so long that you’re not entirely sure where it leads to. People are piling out the door two at a time, and you can see they’re trying to get through the process as fast as possible. The window leading outside is blurry and caked in white ice. He hooks one leg over his luggage, the metal and plastic case is so high that his feet barely touch the ground. Like a kid with a flat scooter, he wheels himself through the line.

“These lines are for busses going in the direction of our flight,” he jabs a finger out the door, “if the flight got cancelled I was just going to ride one of these,” out of his pocket he pulls out two tickets, flicking it in front of your face.

“Are there any tickets left?” your eyes bug, and you immediately pull out your phone to reserve a spot.

“Nah, been booked since last month.”

It’s then that your eyes zero in on the second ticket he has in hand. Both tickets are addressed to the same name. You lower your phone in your pocket, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you have two for yourself?”

He pats his luggage as a response.

“That’s not fair!”

“It is when you buy it, sweetheart.”

“A literal human could be in that spot, wanting to go home for Christmas!”

“You’re just salty you don’t have a ticket, don’t take it out on my luggage,” he feigns a pout, rubbing the handle of the heavy container, “you’re hurting it’s feelings.”

It doesn’t take long for you and the stranger to reach the end of the line. To others in line the two of you look like two companions bickering good-naturedly, but in reality the only thing you want to do is slap that smug smile off his face.

“You want my ticket,” he states.

“I want your luggage’s ticket,” you bite back, staring petulantly at where he sits comfortably between the handle.

Unbeknownst to you, the man’s face morphs into a teasing grin upon seeing you glare a little too hard at the silver and black case. It just so happens that your eyes gravitate to the middle of the luggage, at the apex between his long legs leading up to a pair of black sweats. Despite the soft, baggy fabric you can see how the bulge of his thighs outline the thin cotton, looking large and inviting which—

Fuck. You’re engaged. Why are you checking out some stranger’s thighs? Your fiancé also has nice thighs, think about those!

“How much do you want for it?” you cough, crossing your arms and turning to the side to hide your flaming cheeks.

“Who said I was offering?”

“I’ll pay that and then some.”

“With your rich-boy’s money?”

If your hands were not digging into your elbows and you weren’t so concerned about your gold-foiled manicure, you’d deck him. Do the holidays normally make this person so snappy? He simply flips his hair, and you catch the shaved ends of his sides.

“Three-hundred,” he says easily, and if he notices you staring he doesn’t say anything, “including any extra fees for my luggage.”

“Done,” you hold out your hand for him to shake.

“I’m Jungkook, if you care,” the man named Jungkook adds wryly, practically swallowing your small hand with his larger one. You shortly reply with your name, and he merely nods, “a thank you would suffice.”

“Thanks,” and it’s then that you manage a scarily pretty smile, one that Jungkook finds both alarming and amusing. It’s a catered smile, one that you’ve trained yourself to accomplish after hours in the mirror in fear of your fiancé’s parents seeing right through you. It’s the smile you give during work when you don’t give a shit but you need to suck it up. It’s a 9/10 success rate.

“Scary,” he shivers, and then you realize he’s the 1/10.

The only bus for you two to pile on is one of the smallest. Probably half the size of a regular coach bus, but at this rate you don’t care. You’ll fly by hot air balloon if the weather wasn’t so crappy.

“Taehyung!” you startle at Jungkook’s sudden belt, and he does a big, beefy-chested bro-hug to the driver. Ah, so he has connections. You watch the two interact from your corner, pulling up your hood to stop the rapidfire snowflakes from pelting your eyes.

The driver is a classically handsome thing, dark eyes and dark fluffy hair. His paperbag pants look absolutely frigid however, and his teeth are chattering as he regards Jungkook with annoyed eyes.

“Listen, so plans have changed—”

“As always, Kook.”

“—and I need you to do me another solid. Do you have room in the compartment for my babies?”

“The answer is, and always no. That’s why you bought two tickets.”

“I know but,” he gestures to you with a jab of his thumb, “like I said, plans have changed.”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung frowns, “trying to do some Christmas miracles? In this snowstorm?” Taehyung shakes his head, eyes flickering to the running bus. Most of the ticket holders are already on it. “I can save you two a three-seater, but there’s no room in the compartment. It’ll be a tight fight but—”

“It’s perfect. You’re dynamite, Tae,” Jungkook even has the audacity to reach his hands out and squish the driver’s cheeks, much to his distain.

The two of you are ushered quickly into the bus, leaving you in the very front diagonal to where Taehyung is sitting. The three seats are tiny, it probably barely fits Jungkook’s thighs with the large luggage nestled in the other two seats. The two of you suggest to put the luggage out in the aisle and take turns holding it, but Taehyung interjects that the luggage is a fire hazard.

“But not a human,” Jungkook decides, and he gestures for you to sit down in the available seat. You’re practically shoved against the window as Jungkook manages to squeeze his gargantuan luggage in the other two seats. He’s tall enough to grab the metal rungs of the bus, steeling himself in the middle of the aisle.

Taehyung doesn’t fight with that, and finally puts the bus into drive. Pulling out of the airport feels akin to leaving the eye of the storm. It’s going to be a long journey, and it makes you worry as to whether you’re going to make it on time or not.

Your favorite pastime is watching the window on a long car ride, especially when the snowflakes crystalize and melt away through the warmth of the vehicle. However, you’re irked. You thought Jungkook was a bit of a wank, a little too full of himself and far too mysterious for your own good.

Exhibit A, the luggage that’s currently threatening to wheel over and crush you against the glass. You wonder what’s so special about this luggage that Jungkook so desperately wants to protect, even so far as to buy its own seat. Sneakily, you lean over to smell the zipper. Surprisingly, it smells a little vinegary, the fumes getting you a little lightheaded within seconds. Your eyes dart to Jungkook, who’s currently engaged in conversation with Taehyung. You tilt your head and sniff again, confirming the slightly rancid smell.

It’s then you take in Jungkook’s form once more. He dresses a little schlubby, his clothes are old, his eyes are sunken in, and his luggage is filled with weird-smelling things.

Oh no. Is Jungkook a drug dealer?

Your fiancé’s parents would surely have a fit if this man gets arrested and you come up in the report as an accused accomplice. It makes sense, he would want to make sure that his goods are in his view at all times, and it explains why he so easily gave you his ticket for triple the actual price.

A giggle interrupts your thoughts. Yes, a tired, yet bubbly giggle. Jungkook’s face is pressed against his bicep, and you catch the fluttering of his eyes as he tries to keep up with Taehyung’s rambling. His grip is starting to loosen on the metal bars, and you’re worried that he might accidentally slip, or not hold tight enough in the event the car takes a sharp turn or slips on black ice.

“J-Jungkook,” it’s the first time you’re saying his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue as you regard him steadily, “why don’t we take turns sitting? I don’t mind standing for an hour while you sleep.”

He regards you with a sleepy smirk, shaking his head against the fabric of his jacket. “You’ll be flung in two seconds, besides can you even reach the handles?”

Good point, but Jungkook is far more muscular and if he does end up flying he’ll crash through the window and further hinder your commute. It’s why you choose your next words carefully, and you convince yourself it’s the only reason as to why you propose your solution.

“I’ll sit on your lap,” and since it sounds super weird coming out of your mouth, you tack on, “I’ll put your jacket over your lap as a barrier.”

He slacks, regarding you with a scrunched face. “Is the jacket supposed to make that situation any better? I’m fine standing like this.”

“This ride is going to take hours and you’re barely on your own two feet,” your point is made when the bus topples over a speed bump, and Jungkook looks awfully small as he moves to grapple the top bar with both hands, “my fiancé doesn’t get jealous, I’ve sat in plenty of friend’s laps before.”

“We’re not friends,” he blurts with a raise of his brows.

“Yes, I know that,” you’re a little insulted by the curt reply, but he still looks rather horrified that you’re proposing the following, “I don’t like it either, but I’m sitting in your seat and now I’m feeling guilty as hell.”

It’s a lot of shuffling and shifting after that. You try not to laugh as Jungkook rips off his leather jacket, folding it into a perfect square, ironing out the corners of the crinkly fabric as he gestures for you to take a seat. You try not to take note of how sturdy his thighs are, or how the muscle stretches across the seat so well that there’s no way for you to fall between the cracks.

“You’re going to sleep anyway,” you try to assure him, side eying him as he presses his forehead against the window, “it’ll be like being with a dead body.”

“Didn’t know you were into necrophilia, but whatever floats your boat,” Jungkook mumbles, eyes immediately fluttering shut.

At first it was easy, ignoring the fact that you’re sitting on top of a human. The drive seems endless however, Taehyung driving further and further into a sea of white ice. You force yourself to thread your fingers together, sitting on the very edge of his knees with your back ramrod straight. Eventually, you tire out and relax against Jungkook’s lax body. Your face is centimeters away from Jungkook’s. Long, dark lashes, and a strand of equally dark hair falls in front of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed from the blaring heater, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

Hm, for a drug dealer, he smells pretty.

Despite the weird-smelling luggage that looms over the two of you, the white long-sleeved shirt he wears is soft to the touch and smells fresh.

You huff, and shift in your seat.

“Stop,” Jungkook mumbles into your shoulder, and you don’t have the heart to look at him.

“I’m sorry, it’s cramped,” you reply.

“I get that, but you don’t have to—hike yourself so far up here,” he sounds almost embarrassed saying it, and his hand shuffles to adjust his belt. “Literally can’t sleep because you’re making me pop a boner.”

“Why, I’m engaged!”

“God, I know. It’s like your personality trait or something,” Jungkook retorts, “just because you’re engaged doesn’t stop my body from reacting. I’m sure your fiancé has reacted like this, stop acting like a blushing virgin.”

You tense, your eyes glued to the window in front of you. How do you even make a comeback to that? Wringing your hands in your lap, you feel your palms sweat with nerves the longer it takes for you to reply. This causes the gears to run in Jungkook’s mind.

“Holy fuck, have you two not—”

“Shut up,” you hiss, turning your body around to slap him in the chest, “shut up shut upupupshutup!”

You make seething, burning eye contact with Jungkook. You expect him to have a shit-eating grin on his face, teasing you for your relationship. Instead, Jungkook is wide-eyed, mouth parted open like a confused guppy and his big bug-eyes looking stricken. He says nothing.

The road starts to get bumpier, and the drive swerves from time to time to avoid black ice. Neither of you are relaxed. Combined with the heart of the storm, your heart is currently wrung on electrical wire, pumping blood with a fervor you cannot stifle.

“I’m going to put my arms around your waist,” Jungkook murmurs softly, and you lift your arms slightly to see him lace his fingers over your belly button. “Like a seatbelt.”

You sigh, relaxing in his hold. Now it’s awkward. He feels compelled to hold you to keep you safe, even though he clearly finds it awkward you’ve already put him in this position.

Jungkook isn’t so bad, you think as you let your gaze linger on his hands. They anchor you to his lap, making sure you’re not jostling during the ride. He may have a razor sharp tongue and gets under your nerves just for the heck of it, but he’s kind of nice. Under the prickly leather jacket, there’s a softness to him you can’t help but gravitate to.

It’s dark outside, save for the speedily descending flakes and the dim lights of the highway. You’re sitting on the lap of a total stranger, yet it’s a stranger who’s holding your waist like he’s a seatbelt, a stranger who’s making you feel safe to say the words that have been haunting you for the past few months.

“I’ve tried to initiate sex,” you finally say. “I don’t know why he doesn’t want me, it’s already been two years.”

Your eyes turn red with bloody horror. Your vision blurred by the insanity of what you’ve just blurted out to this surprisingly kind stranger who’s offered his seat (both times) to you.

“I didn’t mean to word vomit like that. Forget I said anything—”

“Must be his loss,” Jungkook cuts you off, and when he says it doesn’t feel impolite at all. However, Jungkook doesn’t continue on, doesn’t give you rhyme or reason, just lets you linger on his reply like a madwoman.

Maybe it’s because you’re so touch starved, maybe you’re just seeing things, but for some reason Jungkook’s fingers feel more apparent against the seam of your jacket. They tighten a fraction, drum around the metal zipper that holds the thick fabric together. Your palms feel like a fountain, and you try to ignore the burn between your legs, the liquid heat betraying the commitment that sits on your finger.

You’re engaged to be married, you chastise yourself. All eighteen carats that symbolize that bond glare at you, bright and eager to make you feel guilty. The whole reason why you’re on this cramped bus ride is to get to your soon-to-be husband. Some pretty stranger with strong hands won’t change that.

“We’re here! Finally!” Taehyung cheers, and you realize now that you’re parked into a tunnel surrounded by other buses.

Jungkook and you wait until everyone steps off the bus. The pads of Jungkook’s fingers play an unsung tune, absentmindedly drumming to a song you can’t put your mind to.

“God, you can’t just pay the extra money for someone to take care of this?” Taehyung hauls the large luggage in the aisle seat, and you feel like you’re being revealed under a curtain, doing something you’re not supposed to be doing.

You hop off his lap, scoop your backpack in your arm and scramble off the bus. The cold, winter air bites into every available pore in your body, replacing the warmth that Jungkook gave in the tiny bus. You hike the collar of your oversized turtleneck higher up your chin, prickling in shivers as you wait for Jungkook.

“I don’t remember Seoul being this, empty,” you say to yourself, frowning at the lack of humans past the bus station. You peer curiously at the dark, dark road off the terminal. There’s no flicker of light, or a skyline filled with bustling sounds and flickering head beams.

“That’s because we’re only halfway there,” Jungkook walks past you, luggage in tow.

“What?” you pull out your phone, it’s already 4PM and it’s pitch dark outside.

The snow is beating down as you two speed walk out of the hangar, reaching a nearly vacant parking lot save for a pure white minivan. You barely notice the vehicle with all the snow, blending in perfectly as wave after wave of ice beats down on it. The pops of rust by the tires, gaudy orange stripes is the only thing you can focus on as you try to make it to the car as fast as possible.

“Get in and start the car,” Jungkook practically shoves the keys in your hands, gesturing for you to take the passenger seat.

When you enter his car, you’re hit with a scent scarily identical to the one in Jungkook’s luggage. You nearly gag when you inhale too much, and your eyes flicker over to the lemon air freshener attached to the exhaust, trying its best to mask the smell. You vaguely remember all the warning stories your parents told you as a kid—never enter the white van.

Ohmygod, you’re in a white van and all of Jungkook’s drugs are in the back.

You shake your head, willing the car to start as you arch your back over the console to start it up. You’ve been around your fiancé’s parents too long, letting them fill your head with judgemental gab and crazy assumptions only rich people have about people lesser than them.

Once the car spurs to life, soft holiday music plays from a pop station. The front window of the car is absolutely covered in snow, you can’t even budge the windshield wipers to scrape the layer of ice off.

Suddenly, a blanket of ice slides off the window, swept to the concrete. You’re met with Jungkook’s toothy smile and horror-esque stare, and you have this jerk reaction to nervously laugh and jump in your seat. Your nails dig into the cheap fabric of your seat as Jungkook’s scary expression melts into a more softened one, as if happy to have gotten you to laugh in such sucky times. Jungkook continues to brush your windows, meticulously making sure no ice can cause any damage as you two go into the night.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Jungkook whips the door open, throwing the snow brush at the space between your feet.

As soon as he shuts the door, your stomachs growl simultaneously.

The two of you break into a quick laugh, giggles that overlap the twinkly holiday chimes and the packed snow crunching under Jungkook’s boots.

“After McDonalds,” Jungkook declares, setting up the GPS for a quick pitstop to the nearest fast food joint.

Ten minutes into the drive, you pull into a generic food joint, too starved to find gourmet McDonalds. You make it a point to flick your card and lean over his body to meet the cashier, telling him you’re spotting the meal. Jungkook doesn’t complain, and tells the cashier to add in a vanilla sundae for good measure.

Color yourself impressed, but you can’t help but gawk as Jungkook expertly sets up his food on the dashboard like a five-star meal, with fries in the cupholder and a burger unwrapped perfectly to catch any spills and to keep his fingers from getting greased up. For such a terrible snowstorm, he pulls out of the joint gracefully, a brief intermission in your long journey.

“So, is my fiancé’s place far from where you need to be?”

Jungkook shrugs, a stray fry hanging from his mouth. “It’s not far, not close either. I don’t mind, I like driving.”

“Do you drive around a lot?”

“Yeah, for work. It’s a little annoying that I have to spend Christmas alone, but it is what it is.”

Pausing on your speculation, you take a big bite of your burger. You were hoping that your conversation would spur on a little more detail about his drug-esque job. However, all you start to feel is the heaviness of your fast food meal, stemming from your chest and filling your grease-filled stomach.

“You’re spending Christmas alone?” you say, and you don’t mean to sound so sad saying it, but the thought of him being alone tonight makes you feel pinched with pain.

“I can practically feel your puppy-eyes,” Jungkook shakes his head, not even needing to look at you as he focuses on the road. “I’m fine, don’t you worry.”

“Do you wanna come to the party?” you offer, trying to sound as neutral as possible as you throw the suggestion on the dash.

“Not my thing,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, “with my line of work, I prefer to lay low.”

Trying not to feel a hurt by the sudden (but expected) rejection, you practically eat your burger whole, eyes glaring on the road. You surmise it’s a valid excuse, drug dealers aren’t exactly one for highly-populated areas and with your fiancé’s reputation, you’re sure his parents would smell Jungkook’s reputation in a micro-minute.

The drive isn’t anything special. You’re sure if it were spring, the foliage would be pretty and the sun would be setting into melty orange hues by now. It’s all black and white, boring shades that are aggressively pelting at the van and hindering your evening.

“So, what other character traits do you have?” Jungkook cuts through your semi-brooding, as easily as one slices through butter, “other than the obvious that you’re engaged, and that you’re getting married. And oh yeah, you have a fiancé!”

You scoff at his cheesy joke, folding your arms together. “I like spending time with my family. Watching movies under a weighted blanket. Plants.”

His stare dips away from the road for a fraction, enough for you to catch that he’s rolling his eyes, “Fascinating. Not a plant person myself. I like those cute little succulents though. Had a bunch of those in college.”

“I am also a ramen connoisseur,” you say pointedly, turning up your nose.

“Ah, are you?” you smile a little when you see Jungkook’s eyes light up at the mention of food, “what’s the criteria for good ramen?”

“Deep, creamy broth. Also, the egg. Gotta look like a custard-y, eggy sunset. It’s just,” you smack your lips together, mimicking a chef’s kiss, “perfect.”

He chuckles, and goes on to tell you a story about a ramen shop he’s visited on his travels. It’s one he declares that you need to visit, one he still dreams about often. It takes a ferry and it’s a bit of a trek, but he says it’s worth it, and the eggs are as custard-y and sunset-y as you’d like.

It’s between pockets of his story and pulling yourself out of this little bubble of a van you realize: are you flirting with Jungkook?

The longer this trip goes, the more your stares linger. They linger like the snow that sticks to the ground, unable to do nothing but cling. Layer after layer of confusing feelings, building up to a blizzard that you’re unable to quell.

“So, your family’s also going to be at your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook asks, poking at yet another one of your personal facets. He’s being blatantly nosy, yet neither of you seem to mind.

“Oh, no,” you shove your hands in your pockets, “they wanted to stay back in our hometown with the extended family. Y’know, the older members can’t really travel as much as they used to.”

“Ah, so you’re splitting up your time,” Jungkook drums his hands on the wheel, eyes drooped slightly as he continues along the monotonous road, “your fiancé couldn’t make it?”

“Couldn’t,” you reply lightly, “just, y’know, work.”

“Been there, done that,” Jungkook replies, “I’m sure he missed out though. What’s your family like? Are they the type to bake cookies until 3 A.M.? Oh, or do they get wine drunk and talk shit about their annoying cousins—”

“Jungkook,” the words fly out of your mouth before you can even think, “I’m engaged.”

The weight of your words holds differently now. A whole day has passed with this man, and you’ve developed an attachment that simultaneously scares and thrills you. Not an hour goes by that you have to think to yourself that you’re taken, to the point that you can’t even tell what’s in your head and what’s being spoken out in the air.

Instead of a snippy comment, a snarky retort of, “I know, I know!” like you anticipate, Jungkook stops the car.

There’s no human trace for miles, so it doesn’t scare you when he slows down and pulls off to the side. He gears the car into park, roughly pulling the handle. He lays his arm over the steering wheel, turning his body so he can face you fully. The heat in the car suddenly feels too cloying, and you shrink in the seat as he leans in on you.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, and from the looks of it, he’s genuinely hurt.

“I—Jungkook,” you plant your feet on the ground, trying to find some power in this situation, “I mean I, we—you just can’t keep doing this.”

“Do you feel like I’m trying to steal you away? Or, seduce you or something?” Jungkook is starting to talk himself into a stupor, eyes flickering from the window, to you, to behind you, and back to you. It’s almost jarring, seeing how self-conscious he starts to get without the presence of an audience. Gone is the smooth talker that you met at the terminal, willing to haggle it all for your cash. “Are you uncomfortable? Is it weird I have a crush on you?”

“Wait, you have a crush on me?”

He reels back, nearly pressing his head against the window. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deep from his lungs. “Adults still get crushes, y’know.”

“Yeah, but not to people you met eight hours ago.”

Jungkook arches a brow, “People fall for people in the most unlikely of ways.”

That singular statement hits you, hard.

Jungkook looks like he wants to get out of the van. He seems stuffy, and he unzips his coat and shoves it under his legs.

“You’re cute,” he echoes the statement like he can’t believe that in a short amount of time, he’s attached to you, “you seem to have good taste, you love family, and your personality isn’t half bad,” the last bit is meant to be teasing, a lighthearted way to end his bout of emotion, but it only makes you ache further, “And it makes me upset knowing that you have to keep convincing yourself that you’re in a relationship that isn’t as fulfilling as you hope. This whole drive, you’ve been anxious about going to his parents, worrying that you’re not going to make it on time instead of relaxing with your family. Where you actually want to be.”

“I also want to be with Jimin,” you say weakly, a half-hearted attempt to defend yourself.

You never mentioned your fiancé’s name until this point. It makes Jungkook stiffen a little, finally putting a name to the man that’s supposed to have your heart. It makes the relationship concrete, palpable.

“I’m sure you do,” Jungkook smacks his lips, evidently sealing the conversation to suffocate under the snow.

Jungkook puts the car into drive, sliding back into your current route.

“And to answer your question, Jungkook. No, you having a crush on me is not weird,” and smaller, quieter, you reply, “because it’s weird that I might have a crush on you, too.”

You know that Jungkook catches your statement, because he cranks the volume of the radio harder, effectively shutting you out.

The first thing Jungkook says when you finally reach the Park’s house is: “Wow.”

His van looks completely out of place, parked on the side as limos and Escalades drop off more and more people into the large estate. It’s pouring with elegant piano music, and the large window in the middle of their home reveals a century-old chandelier, crystals beaming and winking against the hundreds of guests that lie underneath.

The rest of the way driving was almost painfully fast. After that awkward wave of emotion, neither of you said anything. Well, you didn’t at least. Jungkook attempted to clear the air by singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio, but it only further attracted you because to your chagrin—Jungkook’s a pretty good singer.

The estate isn’t in Seoul persay, it’s a sizable plot of land that definitely comes from old money. It’s decked up like the North Pole, lit up and tiny crystal lines dotting the expanse of the rooftops. The snow certainly adds to it, and many guests are outside taking pictures of the picture-perfect holiday show. The blizzard has finally subsided, leaving a clean blanket of snow across their yard.

You scoff to yourself. What they find to be a Christmas miracle only derailed yours.

Jungkook stares at you while you send a quick text to Jimin. You tell him he needs to come fast, because you don’t want his parents to see you all sweaty and dressed like you’ve been traveling for hours.

“Oh, uh,” you finally take a look at him, and you immediately regret it because you’re getting sucked into his gaze, “I think you put my bag in the trunk?”

“Right,” he shakes his head, “follow me.”

He tilts his head down when he’s outside, as if the snow’s going to start back up and drown him. Your thumb scratches the ring on your finger as you hop out of the van, effectively popping the bubble the two of you have been sealed in for the better half of the evening. Is this going to be it? Is the last you’ll see of Jeon Jungkook?

All those thoughts evaporate when Jungkook opens the trunk.

There’s no drugs.

In fact, you don’t even know what to think. The van is absolutely filled, wall-to-wall art supplies and canvas carefully lined up like Tetris blocks to avoid damage. The floor of the van seems to receive the brunt of the messes, and you catch recent paint stains and spray cans stacked to the side. It explains the smell.

There’s some clear cases in a corner, protecting completed prints that are already framed. Your eyes cling to a vibrant hyacinth, coral and satin blue petals bunching in the middle of a black background. It’s absolutely gorgeous, if it wasn’t for all the paint lying around, you’d think it’s real.

Jungkook’s an artist.

“Holy shit, I thought you were a drug dealer,” you blurt, and you want to smack yourself in the face.

“Excuse me?” Jungkook jerks his head towards you, “did you think I was a drug dealer this whole time?”

“N-no,” you frown petulantly, letting Jungkook loop your arms through the straps of your backpack. “Maybe. You were very shady.”

He laughs, a genuine laugh. It confuses you, the way he tucks his hands in his pockets and bends his back over to look up at you through his dark lashes. It’s like nothing’s wrong, like he’s trying to erase the past eight hours and leave with no qualms. You don’t know if that comforts you or terrifies you.

“So, you were willing to let a potentially dangerous man be your travel partner for eight hours so you can make it to your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the front door, “you must really love him.”

“I do,” you say the phrase like it’s second nature. Rehearsed. Practiced.

“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook pulls out his hand, and you don’t hesitate to grasp it.

Liquid heat sparks through your skin, one that tingles from where his large palm encases yours, all the way to your heart.

“Merry Christmas,” you echo, and your feet feel like lead as you back away from him.

Jungkook waits until you go inside the house, even though the valet is side eyeing him and mentally telling him to leave already. Turning your back to him is rough, like you’re without snowshoes and you’re trudging through snow.

The goodbye feels rushed. Your heart is cold and heavy. Unfortunately, by the time you realize you haven’t paid Jungkook for his bus ticket and the ride, it’s too late. Jimin has already pulled you in his awaiting arms, and Jungkook has peeled out of the driveway.

“You look awful,” Jimin coddles you, dusting the invisible dirt off your jacket. You know Jimin means well by the statement, but you can’t help but feel a little unsupported by his words. You did all you could to make it to Jimin in time for this party full of faceless, nameless people. And yet, Jimin inadvertently manages to put you down for finally making it.

The hallway is relatively empty, save for one staff member who cleans the wet linoleum floors whenever someone with snow steps in. You can easily make out where the heart of the party is, the tinkly holiday music playing from the speakers, along with all the bodies huddled by the extra large Christmas tree that is brimming with presents.

You do feel like a wet noodle, in comparison to Jimin and Namjoon’s complementary pinstripe suits. Jimin’s deep burgundy suit pops in the endless hallway of marble and light wood as he quickly leads you upstairs to a spare room for you to change. Namjoon’s more muted grey still looks stunning on him, cutting his tall figure nicely. You think it’s cute that Jimin made an effort to match with his assistant, not making him feel out of place in this big party.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Namjoon interjects softly, gesturing to the garment bag hanging on the boudoir, “I picked out your dress.”

“I’m sure whatever you bought is beautiful,” you assure softly, stepping fully into the room. It’s an extra bedroom, you’re assuming it might be yours.

“We’ll give you some time to freshen up and get ready,” Jimin squeezes your arm, a touch you can barely feel due to the puffiness of your down jacket. It’s just an awkward escape of air to you, a sssttt that you catch Namjoon hiding his smile for, “we’ll walk around a bit and bring you some food.”

“I want cupcakes,” you blurt impulsively, and the two of them laugh on their way out the door.

Once you’re finally alone, you strip yourself bare. Jacket, shirt, socks, underwear. You make quick work of taking a hot, damp towel to wash your arms and legs, scrubbing your face of any oil and dirt from the day. You wrap yourself in an indulgent fluffy robe, the plush material comforting you as you flop on the bed.

It’s been a day.

You take a five minute cat nap, the weight of the day taking its toll on you. When you finally flutter your eyes open however, you see him.

It’s not exactly him, it’s his art. It’s mounted right atop the headboard, a large blown up painting of a tiger lily. The orange and gold flecks flicker and go perfectly with the decor of the room. The piece is longing, aching for you to go back to two hours ago when you could’ve phrased your words better, balm the situation into something to salvage. This must be a sign, you think. Upon closer look, you see the signature Jeon JK etched in silver in the corner. Who knew the Parks were buying Jeon Jungkook’s work, the world is smaller than you’d originally thought.

It ignites you. You rip the zipper of the garment bag, pulling on the slinky glittery gold dress Namjoon picked out for you. It’s gorgeous, and you don’t know how he managed to find your proportions, but you figure an assistant of his caliber has access to many things. You don’t have much time, so you slap on some light makeup and swipe some highlights across your eyes. By the time Jimin returns, you’re pulling your hair up and out of your face.

Jimin walks to the bed with a pretty red velvet cupcake, “You look beautiful,” he says immediately, and you follow to sit with him at the foot of the bed.

You don’t hesitate to grab the cupcake from his tea plate, nearly shoving it in your mouth. You definitely need a rush, something to curb you over for the plans you have tonight. “Sugar sugar,” you chant like a mantra, and you don’t care that your lipgloss is smudged and crumbs cling to your cheeks.

Jimin just rubs circles onto your thigh, letting you eat and relax. He knows you’re not a fan of these kinds of parties, preferring to wallflower it, preferably at a wall closest to the buffet. His touch is comforting, and you chew slower in order to prolong the inevitable. It takes a beat for you to finish your cupcake.

“I need to talk to you,” the two of you blurt at the same time, and you point and giggle at each other like you’re still five year olds tinkering in the sandbox.

Jimin pouts, “Can I go first? Mine’s kind of important.”

“Mine’s also really important,” you don’t mean to invalidate Jimin, but you really need to get this out. “I might explode if I don’t say this now.”

The blonde scrunches his nose, obviously weak to your unusual distress, “I guess I wouldn’t want that.”

You clutch his hand, the hand that holds the plain wedding band he picked out for himself two years ago. Your eyes flicker to how your ring kisses his, “Jimin. I love you, like really love you. I can’t imagine my life without you, you’ve been my best friend since we could crawl. But as I traveled down here, I realized that even though I love you, I think I’m not in love,” you wince at how cheesy that sounds, “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not good enough, but the whole trip down here made me realize I don’t think I can commit to this.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” you gasp, watching relief wash over Jimin’s features. You’re not even done with your whole spiel and he’s already unbuttoning his blouse, “this makes what I’m about to say a whole lot easier.”

“Jimin,” you trail off, squeezing his palm, “what do you mean?”

“I mean, I think I’m in love.”

Your jaw slackens slightly, seeing the sweat that lines Jimin’s slicked back hair. He must’ve been thinking about this all night, waiting for you to tell you this. Your chest aches, weighing in on all the sudden facts. “Who is it?” you ask.

Jimin shrugs, “The man who does my taxes and makes sure I sleep at least seven hours a night.”

“Namjoon,” you conclude, eyes moving to the sealed door. You think Namjoon is waiting out there right now, silently supporting you two as you go through this. Of course, Jimin’s parents would be livid if anything would tarnish his reputation. A broken engagement would be sticky to cover up, and Jimin falling for his assistant is a headline right for the books.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers, despite the room being vacant he feels the need to keep his words short, “You came all this way to hear this. But I guess we’re on the same page, huh?” His soft fingers make a beeline for your ring finger, removing the diamond band, “And by the way, I love you too. Which is why we’re going to come clean in the morning and work this out with my parents, together. I’m sorry if you felt obligated to follow me all this time just because our parents did.”

“Hey, like you said, we’re in this together. Both in and out,” you chastise, pulling your engagement ring from his grasp and holding it to the light. “Can I keep this? Instead of an engagement band, it can be our best friend band. I’ll even get it re-sized so it can go on another finger.”

Jimin pulls you into his arms, crushing you. The silky material of your dress bunches and rides, but you don’t care. The two of you can’t help but be a little crybaby-ish about it, feeling much like your younger-selves when you had to pull each other out of trouble.

The two of you walk out of the bedroom hand-in-hand, and Namjoon is leaning against the banister in the hallway, a soft smile melting on his tanned skin.

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, hugging Namjoon tightly. You’ve only known the man for a few months, but you can tell he’s taking care of Jimin and that’s enough for you.

“I… really thought you’d be more upset.” Namjoon marvels, patting your back.

Jimin interjects, “I think she’s found someone hotter than me.”

“Impossible!”

You could stay at this party, lay low until you and Jimin have to confront his parents in the morning. They suggest to get all the food they need and sneak out to the home theatre. The three of you hustle it down the stairs to another part of the house, in order for you to make your getaway and avoid Jimin’s family.

“Hey,” you stop in front of another painting, pulling the two men to a stop. Your eyes lock on a framed droopy peony, tipped with pink dye. You realize you can’t stay here, not when someone’s home alone tonight. “Namjoon, I need you to locate someone for me.”

Jungkook does not expect to see you at his front door.

You’re stunning, and look as breathless as he feels. The liquid champagne number that hugs your frame does things to him, and he’s strangely attracted to the fact that you paired this expensive dress with your snow-drenched trainers.

You showing up at the wee hours of the morning was the last thing Jungkook thought would happen. It’s nothing short of a holiday event, you look like you’ve just walked out of a gala and then ran a marathon to reach him.

He thought when he said goodbye, it would be the last time you’d cross paths. At first, he was okay with that. After all, feelings come and go, and spontaneity only works a percentage of the time. Seeing you presently however, throws all those half-hearted concedings out the window.

“Hi,” you finally say, drinking from the fact that you actually found him.

“Hey,” Jungkook breathes, “you look, beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you smile.

“So, is this about you not paying me back for the ticket?” Jungkook suddenly feels guilty, having dipped out of Jimin’s manor once he saw him appear at the door. It was unrightful jealousy, and because of that he needed to drive away as fast as possible. “Because honestly, it was me messing with you. I really don’t need the money.”

“I figured, from the fact that I had to take the elevator up to the penthouse of the building.”

“So then why are you here?” Jungkook wobbles on the balls of his feet, unsure of what to do with himself.

“My ex-fiancé is in love with someone else,” you lay your cards out just like that, and Jungkook’s unprepared to deal.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—”

“Let me finish,” you cut in gently, “my ex-fiancé is in love with someone else, and that’s okay. We’ve been best friends since we were little, and we want nothing but happiness for each other. And for me? Happiness is right in front of me.”

You bite your lip, and Jungkook fights down the urge to run up and pull you into his arms. You must be so cold, running out without a jacket and rushing to his home. However, he lets you finish, and he holds himself down by clutching the door frame as casually as possible.

“I also have a big, fat crush on you,” you say boldly, “and I had to tell you as soon as I could. It took a twenty-minute phone call and some serious leverage from Jimin’s company to figure out where you lived. That receptionist is definitely not letting me use my frequent flyer miles next flight.”

“You harassed an airport receptionist just for me?” he smiles wanly, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m touched.”

“You make me excited to try new things, to be spontaneous and do things for myself,” with every statement you take a step further, and soon enough you’re in his dimly lit apartment. The plush couch in his living room looks awfully warm and comfy, and the light music that plays from his speakers is soft and soothing. “So, let’s spend the holidays together and see where this goes. And go to your art gallery tomorrow, because I did research you on the drive and found out you had to rush here because of a big show.”

“So you’re actually a stalker?” Jungkook teases, tugging you over to the couch.

He takes the lead, plopping himself on the couch first and inviting you to sit next to him. You take a detour and plant your body atop of him, and with an ‘oof’ the two of you are sinking.

“A stalker and a potential drug dealer does sound like a promising pair,” Jungkook jests, his hand palming the silky material of your ruched up ball gown.

“I’m sorry,” you pout, wrapping your fingers around the long tresses of his hair, “can you please stop bringing that up? It was judgemental of me.”

“I like when you’re judgemental,” he pokes your puppy-faced cheeks, ruddied with embarrassment. “I like picking fights with you and getting you all riled up.”

“Will you rile me up now?”

Sexy, he thinks. He figures a vixen has been hidden under you, one suppressed by a complicated engagement and many other factors he’d love to learn about in the near future. The situation at hand however, is far more pressing. Your body is finally warming up, and Jungkook tries to ignore the weight your body is causing, re-igniting an ache he felt hours ago when you two were squished against each other in the coach bus.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you declare, and you look a little frustrated that Jungkook is taking so long to process this information, “and I hope I take your breath away.”

You taste like sugar and the softness that comes with the holidays. It’s tender and oh-so comforting, and Jungkook can’t help but squeeze your hips closer as your lips brush fervently against his. The feeling is both new and old, and Jungkook figures you’ve finally uncoiled a flame that you can no longer quell.

Soon enough your kisses turn hungry, and Jungkook has to remind himself that you two have only known each other for a total of twelve hours, and he isn’t sure of what’s appropriate to jump to due to the speed of your relationship. Once he feels the first roll of your hips, a liquid heat that Jungkook can’t help but return back, he pulls away from your soft lips. Not too far, but a few centimeters apart so that Jungkook and you can catch your breath.

“We should take this slow,” he starts, trying to make a reasonable impression now that you’re a guest at his home and finally settled from their long trip. “I really, really want to get to know you. And you’re so beautiful and I really do want to have sex but—”

“Jungkook, I have not had sex with someone in two years,” you speak with a depraved tone, as if it’s been centuries since you’ve been touched. He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh, “a night full of sex sounds like the best last-minute present ever.”

You bring his hand over to your core, the shiny glassy material of your gown doing nothing to hide the glimpses of pleasure you’re minutes away from experiencing. You whine desperately at the thought, and Jungkook’s a goner.

“Well, I guess I’m about to pull a Christmas miracle,” he murmurs against your lips, ready to work his magic.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #kwritersworldnet #btsghostie #btswritingcafe #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fic #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts angst

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dancingamongstdust · 3 years

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Creepypasta Scenarios - First Meeting Part 2

Hoodie

The area where you lived had a ton of back alleyways that acted as shortcuts in a pinch. They were generally safe but you often got an uncomfortable feeling when using them so you preferred to take the busier roads if you could.

Unfortunately, when you had gone to leave work that day, you had spotted the customer who had been harassing you the entire day. It wasn’t anything creepy but it was over-the-top persistent and you weren’t in the mood to deal with it. You slipped out the backdoor as a result. At least you’d get home sooner.

For the most part, you didn’t encounter anything too suspicious and the light from the streets illuminated where you were going.

The large bins outside the grocer’s home indicated that you were getting close. You sped up and rubbed your eyes blearily.

Ahead of you, a dog was barking from inside one of the buildings. It was a pretty noisy animal and you began peering around to see what the source of its agitation was. Ironically, you ended up bumping directly into him.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised, rubbing your shoulder.

The guy was tall, wearing dark clothing and standing right in the shadows. You could have probably noticed him if you were a little more awake.

He turned and your breath caught.

His face was obscured by a dark mask with red features stitched onto it. His hoodie which originally seemed dark was now illuminated into a soft yellow or orange, stained with a dark substance.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. His voice crackled out, clearly coming through a voice changer of some kind.

“I – I was just taking a shortcut home. I live near here so I thought… I really didn’t mean to bump into you. I’m super tired.”

“Tired or not, you shouldn’t have seen me,” the guy said. “Do you have a phone or a camera?”

Slowly, you reached into your bag and pulled out your phone. “I don’t have any cash in my wallet –“

“I don’t want your money!” he snapped. “I’m not some petty thief, believe me, I have better things to do with me time. Unlock this.”

You did so and he went through it with a gloved hand. He didn’t have a weapon but something in your gut warned you to just go along with it. Nobody covered up everything, including their voice, when they were up to something good. This guy may not be a thief… but the alternative didn’t feel too much better.

He shoved your phone back at you. “Get out of here and don’t breathe a word of this to anybody. Consider yourself lucky that I’m in a good mood today.”

You swallowed nervously. “Thank you?”

“I’m serious,” he warned. “I can let you go just because you seem pathetic enough to not take this to the police but unless you want to catch a bullet in your back, you’ll keep quiet. My boss doesn’t like people getting involved with this nonsense.”

“A bullet?”

He didn’t answer and your heart thundered in your chest. Part of you wondered if he was going to kill you while you ran away but his attention seemed to have moved away from you. You hurried away, holding your breath the entire time. Every time you glanced over your shoulder, the guy remained unmoving.

When you reached your home, you locked the door tightly and slumped against it in exhaustion.

Homicidal Liu

The sunset was beautiful over the graveyard – the only beauty to an otherwise morbid place.

You stared at the purples and oranges dancing across the sky. The wreath pricked at your hands after a while and you stared down at it. Why did you still bother with bringing flowers? Hadn’t it been long enough? Still, you made your way down to the grave and placed them there, not even bothering to read the name on there.

Lately, your graveyard visits had becoming fewer and fewer. Time hadn’t been on your side recently and thus, your precious solitude had to suffer. You relished in the way that nobody really bothered you here.

An orange glow warned you when the streetlights came on. Perhaps you had been there for longer than you thought but this was to be your last visit.

Better to make it count.

Something caught in the wind made you raise your head. A piece of fabric was stuck in the nearby fence, identifiable as a scarf when you ventured closer.

You took it from the fence and looked around for its owner. Nobody was in view… maybe it had been blown off one of the graves? It did seem homemade.

Guessing, you began to place it on a grave when a voice startled you.

“I’m sorry to bother but I think you have my scarf?”

The man was standing far too close for you to have not seen him when you were glancing around but you blamed that on your night vision. He wore dark clothing and seemed awkward just to be speaking to you.

“Thank goodness,” you said. “I was just going to leave it on one of the graves because I didn’t know who it belonged to.”

He thanked you for it, wrapping it around the lower half of his face almost immediately. “That would be a waste,” he said. “Especially to leave it on this one. Thank you for grabbing it.”

A harsh wind blew through the graveyard, carrying with it the smell of an incoming storm. He grabbed his scarf just in time to prevent it from going flying away again.

“Seems like the weather is determined to steal it from you.”

“Far more powerful things have tried.”

You buried yourself further into your jacket and smiled. “I haven’t seen you around before, are you new in town or just coming to visit a new grave?”

“I’m not visiting a grave,” he admitted. “I just thought that this would be the way back to my house… I grew up in this town but only recently moved back and I’m already lost. It’s a little embarrassing if I’m honest.”

“Well, I like to know everybody,” you said. “What’s your name?”

“Su – I mean, Liu,” he said. “Liu. Sorry, I nearly gave you my surname.”

You laughed. “Oh that’s no problem. It’s nice to meet you but I really like your name. Is it Chinese?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He looked around and began walking away. “I really have to go. Thank you for getting my scarf and all that.”

“I’ll see you around,” you said with a wave.

It was only later when you realised how suspicious that entire interaction was. You had never seen Liu before in your life and he was just hanging around in the graveyard? He hadn’t seemed too creepy at least. Maybe you would see more of him in the coming days.

Jane the Killer

It wasn’t that you were unobservant or inattentive toward girls but nobody had really caught your eye until Jane.

She was stunning in a way that few people could ever match with dark hair that tumbled past her hips and soulful eyes. Her walk was always confident, her smile always perfect, and her attention always desirable. Your main regret about life was that you didn’t speak to her sooner – especially when you thought back on what happened not too long after your first meeting.

You organised with your friends to somehow bump into her but instead, you wound up getting treated for a pretty painful bruised hip. Your second plan didn’t work out either and your third never even left the drawing board.

“Just go up to her and say hi. Tell her that she’s beautiful,” your friend encouraged. “She’ll say thanks and then you’ll be able to talk to her.”

“That’s so boring though,” you said. “It’s not like something out of a romance novel.”

Your friend groaned and stood up. “Well, I’m going home. We have like three months left of high school and I’m not going to spend that time obsessing over how to speak to a girl. She’s literally a regular person.”

They were right and you knew that. No matter how you tried to set up a sweeping romance, it probably wouldn’t work out.

So you tried.

And you tried.

Two weeks later, you were about to give up on mimicking a romance novel and it appeared that your friend was thinking the same thing. She grabbed your arm and began to drag you somewhere, muttering about changing the topic. You had a vague idea of where you were going but you didn’t fight too much.

“What if she’s still dating that Woods boy?” you asked. “The older one.”

“They broke up after literally a month of dating. I don’t blame her – those Woods boys are pretty enough but the older one has something seriously wrong with him. And the younger one is always talking to himself…”

“I really don’t care about the Woods’,” you commented.

“No, you care about Jane who is honestly quite weird as well,” they said. “But that is going to be your problem and not mine.”

They dragged you directly up to her group. It wasn’t large – despite Jane’s beauty, she wasn’t incredibly popular due to her associations. Your friend wasn’t the only one who was a little scared of the Woods boys and Jane had hung out with them for quite a while.

“Hey,” your friend said before even letting you go. “You have no idea who we are but my friend here has a massive crush on you. Could you please just say hi so they can get it out of their system?”

You were sure that it was unhealthy to be as red as you were. It felt like your heart was about to leap from your chest.

Jane laughed, a soft and gentle sound. “I’m not really interested in a relationship,” she hummed. “But thank you. That’s very flattering.”

Somehow, your heart sped up still and you awkwardly rubbed your arm. “No problem?”

“Why don’t you join us for a little bit?” Jane offered. “Just because I don’t want to date anybody doesn’t mean that we can’t become friends. You look like my kind of person.”

You stumbled over your words but somehow, your conversation managed to go extremely well. Jane was brilliant in every possible way and you quickly grew attached to seeing her every day. That was why you mourned so greatly when she died.

Jason the Toymaker

The sun was so warm against your skin. You could stay there forever, stretched out on the grass and basking in the sunlight.

“It’s done,” your friend’s voice broke through your daydreaming

You opened your eyes and rolled over to see exactly what they had been working on for the entire trip. After realising the first few times that you weren’t going to get a reaction, you had decided to wait for them to finish working before you tried to have a conversation.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” you said. “That’s amazing.”

The hyper-realistic man was sketched to perfection with a top hat, a fur coat, and a small mouse sitting on his left shoulder. It felt like his eyes could piece into your soul.

“Who is that?” you asked them.

They stared blankly at the image and shook their head. “I don’t know,” they said. “He’s been in my dreams for so long. I think it has something to do with my amnesia. Maybe I knew him once before.”

“He’s a little intimidating,” you said. “I could imagine him to be a ringleader in a circus that’s like a secret cult. Maybe he’s why you lost your memory.”

“Maybe…” they said, tapping the picture. They suddenly shoved it into your chest and stood up. “You keep that. I don’t want it anywhere near me. I need to go talk to my parents.”

You watched them race out of the park in confusion. The man in the picture stared up at you with haunting eyes.

Folding it in half so it didn’t freak you out, you stood and dusted off your clothing. Maybe it would be best if you headed home. It was getting late either way.

Later on, you’d call your friend and check up on them.

About 10 minutes away from your house, the feeling of being watched snuck up on you. It hung heavily around your shoulders like a cloak. You glanced around but saw nobody.

Still, you didn’t feel comfortable leading whoever was following you back to your house. You made a point of walking amongst large crowds and headed for the police station.

They were watching you the whole way.

You sped up. A few people bumped into you and you apologised as best as you could. Your grip on the picture was getting tighter enough for you to tear it. The later it got, the fewer people were on the streets and so you were pretty much alone when you bumped into him.

It took you a few seconds to recognise the man from the drawing.

If you thought his drawn eyes were captivating, they had nothing on his real ones which glowed with an almost ethereal light.

“You’re him,” you breathed.

He stared at you, smile falling from his face in confusion. “Who?”

You shakily held out the drawing and he yanked it from your hands. “My friend drew that,” you explained. “They said that its of somebody from their past. They have amnesia you see.”

He was unmoving as he studied the picture. You began feeling a little uncomfortable and then his gaze snapped to you. “Is that so?” he asked.

You nodded and took a small step away from him. “Maybe you should go and talk to them? See –“ you swallowed nervously. “See if you can help them remember?”

“No need,” he said, dropping the paper on the ground. “Who are you?”

Your name came out as little more than a soft whisper. Something about the entire scenario made you uneasy. His appearance was too unnatural.

A gust of wind came by, picking up the drawing and whipping it away. You watched it go and when you looked back down, his eyes were locked on you.

“Such a pity,” he said. “You would have been the perfect doll.”

Wearily, you took a step backwards. His words made your stomach churn uneasily. “What are you talking about?”

He smiled. It was kind and warm but it only made you more nervous. His eyes looked like they had almost changed colour; shifted a shade darker than previously. “Thinking aloud my dear,” he said.

“About dolls?” you asked.

He tilted his head a little towards you. “I’m going to have to bid you goodbye. It seems I have other matters to attend to.” He brushed past you, stopping briefly when directly next to you. “Consider yourself lucky.”

He was gone before you could even spin around to face him.

Jeff the Killer

Pausing the song, you removed your earphones as quietly as possible and placed them down on your desk. According to the blinking numbers on your phone screen, it was nearing 2 AM. Far too late for anybody to make an excess of noise.

You listened closely. The music had been too loud for you to hear anything and you almost brushed the strange noise off as your sleep-deprived imagination. Until something squeaked like shoe soles on tiles.

In retrospect, you should have immediately called 911 but you didn’t want to sound a false alarm.

The light switch was thankfully directly outside your room. The hall illuminated most of the house when they were on and it steeled your nerves. Your roommate’s door was open, allowing you to confirm their sleeping state, curled up in their bed amongst the piles of mess. They had had to move to the spare room due to a faulty window earlier in the day and had clearly given up sorting items.

You glanced into the apartment’s other rooms before heading to the kitchen. There was nothing odd. The scuttling when you entered the kitchen just suggested that your neighbour’s rat infestation may be migrating.

Making a mental note to call the exterminator, you turned to switch off the kitchen light.

Something slammed into you, forcing your back to collide with a wall. A hand covered your mouth and the overwhelming scent of blood and decay invaded your nose. Something cold and sharp pressed against your neck.

“Shut up and stay still,” the man snarled at you. “I don’t think anybody will appreciate you getting blood in the kitchen.”

Your heart leapt into your throat and your body stilled. The man in front of you was terrifying. His skin pale and mutilated. Eyes far too wide for a normal person and dancing with an insanity that sent chills down your spine.

And his mouth… a bloody smile carved across his face, stretching halfway to his ears.

He studied your face carefully and his expression twisted. “You’re not the right one,” he snapped. The knife moved away from your neck, so he could point with it. “I had this all planned and yet when I came into that room, I found it empty. Why?”

Even if he hadn’t been holding your mouth shut, you doubted you would have been able to formulate an answer. The pounding heartbeat in your ears was nearly blocking out his voice.

He lightly tapped your cheek with his knife. “Not that it matters,” he said. “I’ll just have to adapt my original plan. You’re not the right target but I’m a huge fan of collateral damage.”

A small whimper escaped you and tears welled at your eyes. You didn’t want to die.

“Don’t blubber!” he ordered. “View it as a good thing. You’ll be all over the news. Another victim of Jeff the Killer. Hell, you might even be added to a Wikipedia page or something.”

You could recall that name from the news. Often followed by a lengthy list of deaths and the police chief begging for any information about the murderer.

Jeff stared at you for a long minute before he pressed the knife’s blade to your throat and moved his hand away from your mouth. “Scream and I will remove your vocal cords,” he threatened. “Who are you?”

It took several deep breaths and a flicker of impatience in his expression to give you the ability to talk again. You stammered out your full name as quickly as you possibly could.

He rolled his eyes and tilted the knife so it scratched your skin. A sticky and warm substance ran down your throat in small droplets. “Pathetic.”

“Sorry,” you whispered on instinct. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Why not?” he asked. “You ruined my earlier plans to take out my original target by interrupting me before I could find them. Why shouldn’t I settle for you instead?”

You didn’t have an answer.

He took the blade away from your throat. “If you call the police and report what happened here tonight, I will slice you into little pieces.”

It was almost twenty minutes after he left before you regained any movement in your body. You slumped into a heap on the kitchen floor and started sobbing.

Kagekao

Things had been going missing around your house.

Initially, you had thought it was just due to you forgetting where you’d plopped things because it was simple things. Drinks that vanished, keys turning up on the opposite side of the house, and random spills that you didn’t remember making.

But then it started getting weirder still.

You would make food and pack it away, knowing that you would eat it later, and find it gone. Picture frames disappeared, never to be seen again. Your rug half-unraveled during the night and you found it in a pile the next morning. A candle in your bathroom fell over and, somehow, the curtains on the other side of the house had caught alight.

It was suspicious, to say the very least. You began to think that you had some kind of intruder – once, the news reported that a woman found a homeless man living in her attic and eating her food when she wasn’t looking.

So you went out and bought cameras, setting them up throughout your house.

For two weeks, they caught nothing until one of them ended up breaking. You went to get it repaired and the company managed to recover what it had last seen. Which was nothing on your first glance.

But you were soon to realise, that was only because you had been looking at the floor.

While you were rewatching when you got home, you noticed something. The window was sitting wide open and the camera’s angle only allowed you to see half of it. Right toward the end of the feed, a gloved hand appeared on the side of the window and a slight shadow indicated something climbing through.

So you got reinforced windows and made sure that none were open unless you were in the room.

Things still continued happening.

You were beginning to get really annoyed by this. It was tempting to go to the police and let them just handle it but that was going to be a lot of effort that you really didn’t care for. You didn’t feel like you were in much danger. Nothing had happened in your bedroom.

Your next plan was to set up a trap of some kind. With a hidden camera set up, you made extra food and left it on the counter to see if something happened.

The next day, you watched as a plastic toy of some kind was thrown directly into the plate from somewhere off-camera, breaking it and leaving an absolute mess everywhere.

Still not considering it to be anything dangerous, you just cleaned up the mess and loudly cursed out anybody who was listening. You stalked the house after that, searching every nook and cranny with a bat in hand. The final place was the closet in your bedroom and you peered in, expecting nothing.

When you turned around though, you spotted something sitting in the corner of the room.

It was humanoid with arms twisted into awkward positions and a mask on its face. Half the mask was black and the other white, both sides bearing an unnaturally smiling expression. The creature cackled when you saw it and scuttled out of the door, stuck to the roof the entire time.

A second passed.

Then another.

You pinched your arm hard and waited to wake up. Surely there was no way… I mean, why would… humans didn’t generally crawl along the ceiling? Well, you were quite sure they never did that. You must have been imagining it.

A second laugh corrected you on that.

You swallowed thickly, walked over to your door as calmly as possible and locked it. Then you took out your phone and finally called the police.

Kate the Chaser

The day when Kate was sent away remained very clear in your mind. It was a moment that brought extremely change to your life, mixing up your friend group and sending you in a different direction.

The years has passed and you had never gotten over your best friend. They said that she had lost her mind and you knew it was true. All those games investigating the woods and ghost hunting must have put a toll on her mind. Sometimes, you blamed yourself for all the pranks and you knew that Lauren had similar doubts.

And now she was back.

Lauren and you hadn’t remained close, the entire situation feeling too real with one another. Your greeting was stilted but neither of you wanted to be the first to approach the house.

“Do you think that she remembers us?” Lauren asked.

“If she didn’t then her mom wouldn’t have invited us over,” you said.

You stood in complete silence, staring up at the house. Would you even recognise Kate? The last time that you had seen her was when you were both young children and her face remained at that age in your memories.

Eventually, you gained your confidence before Lauren and you walked over, knocking on the door before anxiety could find you.

Kate answered the door and you forgot why you had ever been nervous.

Time had slimmed her face and shortened her hair. Her eyes were still a gentle brown and the cockiness had faded from her smile, but it was recognisable from your nostalgia. It made you feel warm and known – an aura that you had missed without even realising it.

“Hi,” you greeted.

Kate pulled you into a tight hug and you returned it, clutching at her tightly as though she could slip through your fingers. It really had been too long and when you moved away, she held onto Lauren with the same enthusiasm.

“How have you been?” she asked. “You have to tell me everything.”

The three of you spent the rest of the afternoon having tea and just talking about the world at large. Kate didn’t have many stories from the hospital – she claimed it was because the place had been extremely boring and neither of you pushed to find out more about it. Honestly, it was more comfortable to act as though she had simply moved away.

Lauren had to leave first and you were going to go with her but Kate had looked so down that you remained just a little longer. That was when things got weird.

“I’ve missed music a lot,” Kate sighed.

“Did they not allow you to listen to music?”

She grimaced. “No, they did but often I couldn’t hear it over the static. Its mostly gone away now but it came back last night… it fills my brain and all that I can think of is a way to make the pain stop.”

The colour drained from your face as you stared at her. You didn’t know much about what happened to her but you had thought she would be okay now.

Realising it, Kate hurried to reassure you, “I really have recovered,” she said. “My hallucinations have faded and my medication keeps my emotions in check. You really don’t have to be scared of me.”

You stared down at your cup awkwardly. “I’m not scared of you,” you reassured her. “You’ve never done anything to me.”

She nodded. “It will be alright, you’ll see. I’m ready to get back to a normal life with my friends and not have to worry about that ghost stuff ever again.”

Laughing Jack

It was on your leg…

The glare you fixed the small child with could wilt plants. It didn’t care though and merely clutched at your clothing with a happy smile. “Come play with me?” it asked. “I can introduce you to all my friends!”

“How old is she again?” you grumbled at your friend.

Your friend laughed and ruffled their cousin’s hair. “I had an imaginary friend when I was 10. She’s only 6, she’s still at the stage where they’re a big deal.”

The child was oblivious to your conversation and reached out her arms. “Come on. The parents are being boring. I have candy that my friend gave me. We can share it.”

“I agreed to come along to your family get together to keep you company,” you said to your friend. “You know I don’t like children. Babysitting really isn’t my forte.”

All you received for your complaining was laughter.

By the time you had the 4th teddy bear had been introduced, you were done. Why did one kid have so many toys?

“Now which one of your friends gives you candy?” your friend asked. “Because if it’s from Princess, I don’t think it’s edible. What if she secretly puts glitter in it?”

Expected to play along, you sighed. “Unless it’s glitter from rainbows because then it’s got magic powers and allows you to fly.”

The child liked your thumb-sucked statement because she jumped up in excitement. “I don’t get it from Princess. Jack gives it to me! But if Princess can make me fly, I want to have that kind of candy instead!”

“Which one’s Jack again?” you asked, eyeing the line of toys.

“He’s not here right now,” the child said, biting her inner cheek. She turned in a circle. “Sometimes he hides in the cupboard though!” She ran over to her cupboard and pulled the doors open. “I don’t think – OW!”

She reeled backwards, clutching her cheek. Both you and your friend immediately jumped up and ran over to her. A tiny slice mark ran across the side of her face. It wasn’t anything serious, but she was sobbing as though it would kill her. You presumed a small edge on one of the boxes in the cupboard had been the cause.

“Do you want me to take you to mom, so she can kiss it better?” your friend asked. “Your new best friend can wait here and make sure all your toys are safe.”

The child nodded, and she got led out of the room. You rolled your eyes at the sensitivity and reached into the cupboard to push the box out of the way. A clawed hand reached out of nowhere and grabbed your wrist tightly.

Before you could even shout, it lifted you off the ground by your arm and a second hand had wrapped around your mouth.

The monster’s body appeared out of the closet.

It was a clown. Easily 7ft tall and comprised of monochrome colours with a sharp, pointed nose and long, greasy hair. Its black lips spread into a smile, revealing pointed teeth and a sickeningly sweet breath.

You writhed against its grip, trying to scream or do anything but it was insanely strong, and it just laughed at your efforts.

“How mean,” it purred, leaning in close to your face. “You ask who I am and then, when I appear to you, you insult my appearance. Awful etiquette. Your parents should be concerned about how rude you are to strangers.”

You strained your memory to think about what you had been doing before it grabbed you but the adrenaline was clouding your mind. What had you asked? You struggled more with the lack of memories.

The clown shook its head. “I haven’t revealed myself to somebody so old in a long time. You should be flattered but instead you choose to try and kick me. This is why I don’t do this. Children are far more polite.”

He released you suddenly and you landed hard on the ground. It winked and disappeared, right as your friend and her cousin returned.

“You met Jack!” the child shouted excitedly, pointing to the candy lying next to you.

You shoved it away from you as quickly as possible.

#creepypasta #scenarios #hoodie x reader #marble hornets #homicidal liu #jeff the killer #jane the killer #jason the toymaker #kagekao #x reader #jeff the killer x reader #laughing jack #kate the chaser

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rinkrats · 3 years

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🥺 that mike lange story. But also those tags #sid loooves christmas #he loves giving presents #looks good in red #piles on the pounds fast #post hockey career as santa 😂😂👌🏽👌🏽

he loves his mementos and presents and is COMMITTED to them. scrapbooking. matching jackets. little pills with hidden motivational messages~*~ his love language is gifts and neck smooches and stalking geno. relevant right now are some anecdotes i sent a friend earlier this year for dorky sid gifts fic fodder:

1. Crosby's constant thoughtfulness would be impressive from anyone, much less someone of his stature.

"Sid always texts me happy birthday, he's always asking me like, how's Russia?" Evgeni Malkin said. "We talk and message all summer. He asks me how my skates are. He knows, like, everything. He follows my Instagram, I think (laughs)."

In addition to having a handle on those little details, Crosby is constantly providing those around him with memories and mementos. If the team is on the road and goes, say, sightseeing or to a sporting event and takes a group photo, Crosby will later send a framed copy to everyone.

When Ron Hextall and Brian Burke watched their first Penguins game in person, Crosby is the one who approached head equipment manager Dana Heinze and asked for two used game pucks to give to the new GM and president of hockey ops.

After the Penguins won in 2009, Crosby had jackets made for the three players on the team who had scored a Cup-clinching goal in Game 7: Talbot (Pittsburgh), Ruslan Fedotenko (Tampa Bay) and Mike Rupp (New Jersey).

"They were blue jackets with gold buttons, and each one had a patch on it that said 'GWG Game 7,'" Talbot said. "At one of our first team meals the next season, he presented us with the jackets and did a big ceremony with the music and stuff. We had a private room in the restaurant. I still have the jacket."

-The Consummate Teammate, Captain and Ambassador, Feb 2021

2. Merz: My first interaction with Sid was when we were on the bench, guys were talking about a teammate, and the first thing this 15-year-old says is, “Hey, guys. Let’s keep everything positive. Don’t talk about your teammates that way.”

Salcido: When we were getting ready for nationals, he found these little pills that you could put a hidden message inside. They unscrewed, and inside was a tiny scroll. He gave one to every teammate. … He had everyone fill one out. He didn’t tell anyone what to write, but he made it known that we all knew what the goal was: winning nationals. So we wrote on our scrolls, rolled them up and put them in the pill thing. We kept them with us everywhere we went.

-‘Is this real?’: Stories of Sidney Crosby’s year at a Minnesota prep school, May 2020

3. On “Butterfly Boy” Jonathan Pitre:

Though the Senators are his team, Sidney Crosby has always been Jonny’s favourite player. After the TSN documentary airs, Tina gets a call from the Penguins. Sid needs Jonny’s measurements. He wants to have a suit made for him by his personal tailor, Domenico Vacca.

“It’s the kindest, sweetest gesture,” Tina says. “Sid heard that Jonny went to a lot of games, so he wants him to look like he’s one of the guys.”

“I want him to feel like a pro,” Crosby says. “Here’s a guy who is going through something so painful, and his first thought is always, ‘How can I help others?’ When I was young, I’d watch on TV the players coming to the rink in their suits. That was a cool part of being an NHL player. I want him to feel that, to make it as real as possible for him.”

Tina tries to discreetly measure Jonny while she’s changing his dressings. But he’s way too smart for that.

“Um, Mom, why are you measuring me? Am I going for surgery again?” he asks.

“No, no!” Tina replies, trying to reassure him and come up with a good lie, all in the same breath. “The doctor needs them just to make sure they have proper dressings next time you are in.”

A few weeks later, the sharp navy blue suit shows up at their front door, along with a couple of ties, an autographed stick and a handwritten letter from Sid.

“His eyes just light up,” Tina says. “Jonny always liked to be well-dressed, and he just loves having his own suit. It fits perfectly. He looks so good in it.”

-Beauties by James Duthie (2020)

4. Pascal Dupuis inspired his Pittsburgh Penguins teammates on their run to the Stanley Cup, and Sidney Crosby found a special way of driving that message home.

Dupuis retired in December with lingering health concerns because of blood clots. Despite his NHL playing days coming to an end, the veteran forward remained an integral part of the Penguins and was in uniform to hoist the Cup after Pittsburgh's six-game win against the San Jose Sharks in the Stanley Cup Final.

On Sunday, Dupuis brought the Cup home one last time as a player to share a special day with his family, friends and hometown fans.

"Yes, it does feel bittersweet a little bit," Dupuis said. "You get the Cup, you want to celebrate. But at the same time I got a gift by the mail [Saturday]. Basically, it's a book of all the pictures of all the good stuff we went through. It came from Nova Scotia, so you guys can figure out who it came from (Crosby), but he couldn't give it to me during the season, he saw me skating a little bit.

"And he sent it [Saturday], before my day with the Cup, so he knew what he was doing to get me right here," Dupuis said, putting his fist over his heart.

-Pascal Dupuis shares Stanley Cup with family, friends, Aug 2016

5. In 2011, Crosby was out of the lineup with a concussion, and the Penguins made their annual visit to Children’s Hospital.

Crosby got along so well with one boy there and was so touched that he later asked Bullano to go back... just the two of them, no cameras, no attention.

When Bullano and Crosby met for the follow-up visit, Crosby appeared clutching a pair of Toys “R” Us bags, filled with a Transformer toy the two had discussed.

“He literally bought every type of this toy they make,” Bullano said. “[Crosby] had never seen it before and thought it was so cool.

“There are no pictures of this. There’s no video. He was laying in the bed with the kid. They were just playing. We were there for over two hours. I got to know the mom really well because we were just sitting there.

“The kid had no idea. Didn’t expect it. They had no idea he was coming. We got there and he said, ‘Hey buddy. hope you don’t mind that I came back.’ The kid couldn’t believe it.

“[Crosby’s] crazy cool about stuff like that.”

What’s crazy is trying to recount the many times stuff like this has happened with Crosby:

• The Little Penguins Learn to Play program has been around for nine seasons, outfitting now 1,200 kids with free head-to-toe hockey equipment. Not only does Crosby serve as the face of the program — which the NHL has now adopted — but he helps fund it, too.

“There’s an awareness of what a person in his position can bring,” Penguins vice president of communications Tom McMillan said. “I think he activates that as much as anybody I’ve seen during his playing career.”

• After a recent practice, Crosby noticed a local family in the Penguins dressing room, approached them, introduced himself, learned their story and wound up giving them a signed stick.

Nobody asked Crosby to do that, and he wanted zero credit when discussing it a couple days later.

“For people who have the opportunity to come in here, people dealing with certain things, if you can brighten their day a bit or spend some time with them, it’s something that’s special for all of us,” Crosby said.

• A few years ago, through a team charity event, Crosby befriended a 4-year-old Amish boy with cancer. Crosby remarked to Bullano how much he loved talking to the boy because of how engaging the boy was and how he wasn’t consumed with technology. Crosby even tried to visit the boy but learned he had passed away.

• He learns the first and last names of the kids who attend his hockey school in Cole Harbour, Nova Scotia.

“Two kids came from Japan its first year,” Bullano recalled. “He was so blown away by that. He couldn’t wait to meet them.”

• Earlier this season, the Penguins welcomed Grant Chupinka, 24-year-old cancer patient, into the dressing room. Crosby chatted up Grant and his parents, Steve and Kim.

He spent his usual time — about two or three times the requirement. Gave the tour. Then found out the Chupinkas didn’t have tickets for that night’s game and decided he would pay for them to go.

“I’m sure he could just give them an autographed puck or something, but he takes his time to go out and see them and talk to them and get to know them,” Brian Dumoulin said. “It speaks volumes for him and who he is as a person.”

Spend any length of time with Crosby during his visits with those less fortunate, and a few things become obvious.

One, Crosby is really good at these. Smooth but not in a slimy way. Sweet. You know how when you’re around someone talking and they go out of their way to make eye contact with everyone around? That’s Crosby.

He’s also humble, always introducing himself like those he’s meeting don’t already know. Holding a hand is no issue. And Crosby is the rare 20-something pro athlete without kids who acts every bit like he does.

“It is not an easy situation to talk to someone with terminal cancer,” McMillan said. “A lot of people couldn’t do that. He has an amazing ability to do that and make that person feel good.”

Crosby has welcomed several Make-a-Wish kids and tries, if at all possible, to schedule such events for practice days — to maximize the time he’s able to spend.

He’s developed a special friendship with Patrick McIlvain, a soldier who nearly died when he took a bullet to the head in Afghanistan. McIlvain actually does physical therapy with one of Crosby’s sticks.

A former club hockey player at Cal U, McIlvain comes by every year, and the Penguins don’t even bother to tell Crosby. Either he already knows or immediately stops what he’s doing to come say hello.

“He’s not doing it to leave a legacy,” said Terry Kalna, Penguins vice president of sales and broadcasting. “His numbers leave the legacy. He’s just a down-to-Earth, good guy.”

Before a visit, Crosby has Bullano email him what is essentially a scouting report on who he’s going to meet. He likes to learn about them, their situation and what they’ve been through. As much information as he can ingest. Crosby never just swoops in, shake a hand and leave.

“As much as anyone has ever seen, he accepts the responsibilities of being not just a professional athlete but a star professional athlete,” McMillan said. “He views it as part of the job. Like coming to the morning skate. That’s just what you do.”

Put another way, “he owns those moments,” says Kalna.

Said Bullano, “He’s just a good human being.”

-When it comes to giving, Sidney Crosby does as much as he can, Feb 2017

6. When Crosby received a generous signing bonus on his Reebok deal, he wanted to share it with everyone.

“He gave everyone on the bus gifts,” says Oceanic radio commentator Michel Germain. “Him sharing his bonus with all the people he’d been travelling with for two years, that impresses me greatly. I think the most important thing about Sidney Crosby is his personality and the kind of human being he is. What he exuded. The inner richness he’d already developed.”

-Superstitious and generous, Dec 2006

7. also this simply because it makes me ;w;

Even in defeat — no, especially in defeat — Sidney Crosby proved why he wears the "C" for the Penguins.

After the game, with his heart sinking and his season over, the Penguins’ captain bent over, sank to the ice to pick up the puck, took it to linesman Tony Sericolo and then skated to his team’s handshake line.

I immediately thought of a View from Ice Level I’d written on Crosby making sure a retiring official was sent away from PPG Paints Arena properly. I knew picking up the puck wasn’t for the same reason that was, but I also knew, in some way, it was connected to Crosby’s awareness and respect of the game.

“It was for the Islanders,” Crosby told me after the game, his eyes swollen from a first round exit – by way of a sweep to make it worse. He told me how the winning team always wanted the puck, and it was his way of providing it for the Islanders.

Crosby looked me right in the eye as he told me this, just as he did with every other member of the media to come to him after the loss.

I could tell from those swollen eyes and the way he sat at his stall, by himself with his hands folded as he stared blankly, that Sidney Crosby is much more used to being on the receiving end of a puck when a series ends than he is at retrieving it for the winning team.

That scene. His swollen eyes. Staying in the locker room until most had left – talking to anyone who needed him. Most of all, though, picking up the puck that prompted my question in the first place and making sure the right people got their piece of their own history.

It all adds up to one thing: In victory and in defeat, Crosby respects the game above all else – just as he’s always done.

-Even in defeat, Crosby shines, April 2019

#anyway this was a nice walk down memory lane after the disastrous game rip #sidney crosby #pittsburgh penguins #hockey #text

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