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impala1967dwinchester · 3 years

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Sam Winchester: it's cold outside

Pairing: Sam W. x Fem!Reader

Pov: Sam

Warnings: Fluff, cuteness, Christmas themes, snowing outside, comfy spots,

Summary: Opening Christmas gifts. AU! Sam and Y/n realize they both got each other the same gifts. They also watch the snowfall. maybe a proposal

Word Count: 2k

A/N: This is the second to the last writing challenge I have to complete. I'm so happy and sad that this challenge is almost over.

Square: Fluffy Jumpers

Sam Winchester Master List

Main Master list

Taglist: @sweetdetectivequeen @band--psycho @wonderfulworldofwinchester

The snow outside was starting to cover the porch. it was just barely six am, rolling over I grabbed y/n. she moaned slightly into me as I shifted her into my grasp. Y/n felt so warm around my arms she eventually got comfortable around my grasp.

Seven am the digital clock said, the sun was just baby peeking over the horizon yet. This was the first winter, the first Christmas that Y/n and I would be spending together fully alone. So in technical terms, this is our third Christmas together.

She moaned again as she shifted in my arms the morning sun just not bright enough to fully wake her from her dreams, or even her sleep. slipping from her grasp I snuck from our bed and down stairs.

Having hidden a few presents in the closet away from sneaking eye, such as Y/n. I had noticed the last two years Y/n always no matter what has to sneak a peak.

This year I most definitely did not need y/n snooping around my gifts. Bringing them in from the closet I tried my hardest to place the gifts in empty spots under the Christmas tree.

After doing so, I got to work on breakfast. Seeing as I was the better cook between the two of us. I made hot chocolate and coffee because Y/n was mostly going to sleep till dawn I needed something to wake her up even it was Christmas morning. I turned on Christmas music just something low, but sweet enough to in have in the background.

You know what's funny to me, as a child as kids who believe in a magical person who deliveries present. I remember my older brother Dean beating me at waking up every single Christmas morning. My mother and father would come in hours later and tell us that Santa had come. Dean would beat me down the stairs and always had so much energy, but our parents never seemed against it.

It's funny the little memories you hold on to even twenty-plus years later. The deal between Y/n and I was so. The first year we would visit her family up in Utah and the following year we could visit mine in Kansas.

Eight am and Y/n is still not awake. Alright try for plan two, I walked my way up the stairs with a cup of coffee and a bowl of fruit. nothing too heavy seeing as she is just going to wake up.

Walking in through the open doorway. I was met with a beautiful moment, or whatever you want to call it. Y/n was curled up into my pillow tightly hugging it, the blinds that had been left open the night before for the moon's bright beam to cast in were instead the bright sun casting in. It cascaded over her face, down her arms, beaming down slightly onto the skin on her leg.

I quietly set down her cup of coffee and the bowl of fruit grabbing my phone from the back pocket of my flannel pants. Snapping one or two or maybe five pictures of her. In moments like this, a picture is really worth a thousand words.

Throwing my phone back into my back pocket. I walked over to Y/n quietly and gently tried shaking her awake. "My love wakes up," I spoke gently in her forehead kissing it a few times. "My love it Christmas" She didn't budge her grasp on my fluffy pillow only tightening.

"My love I have coffee for you, and I made breakfast." I tried saying a bit louder and more clear. She moved eventually after I spent ten minutes of my morning caressing her arms, her forehead, and brushing through her hair with my hands.

"My dear, it almost nine in the morning," I said pushing the coffee closer to her on the side table in our bedroom. She moaned and groaned as she shifted and was just barely awake. "Good Morning my love," I said gently as I didn't want to bombard Y/n with too much in the morning.

She stretched and reached towards me. "Mornin' Sammy!" Y/n said. I moved out of her way, she swang her legs over the edge of our bed and set her feet into the slippers.

"Coffee?" I asked her, she hummed in response and took the hot cup out of my hands. Y/n hair was wrapped in these odd color things, but according to Y/n, it was to curl her hair in her sleep especially when her hair was wet.

The odd things that women did for their beauty routines. She sipped at the coffee, her head resting on my shoulder. "It snowed last night baby," I spoke as she got up and walked towards the window.

I could write you a dictionary size book of things that I love about Y/n, and that right there, this moment was another I'd have to add to that book.

Nine am. Y/n in the shower, after finishing her coffee and bringing her hidden gifts out and doing the same as I. I worked on dinner ham, muffins for the hell of it. Things I knew that Y/n had fallen in love with when we visited my parents, and of course there were meals that I wanted to desperately try that we had in Utah with Y/ns family.

Ten am. Y/n was done with her shower and currently finishing up her makeup. I slipped upstairs noticing cozy outfits laid out on our now made bed. One for her and me. I made my way into the bathroom, Y/n wrapped in her towel and applying a bit of everything that was laid out against the shared sink space.

I came in and wrapped my hands around her waist. She leaned her head into my shoulder as I kissed her jawbone and her neck. Whispering into her ear, "Merry Christmas, baby." I said unclasping her from my grip, stripping off my pants and tank top.

The hot water ran down my back as I remembered that today I'm asking Y/n the forever question. Last Christmas I had even asked her father for the mission to marry his daughter. Even if he said no, I'm pretty sure his wife would have smacked him and told me 'yes you may, honey'.

Eleven am. I was finished with my shower, Y/n was done with her light makeup. We were both wearing our matching outfits. We made our way downstairs, y/n slipped her phone from her hand and into mine. "Let's take a few pictures, I want to send a few to our parents, and of course Dean," Y/n said as she began to smile awaiting for me to raise the phone in my hands, and up above us.

She never needed makeup, and I made sure to tell her of that every day, or at least every time I saw her with makeup on. "You look beautiful baby, but you don't need the makeup, because I love you just the way you are. And you, you as your wholesome self in more than enough for me." I said as we looked through the pictures.

Y/n started sending off pictures to people, the cute ones were sent to our parents, the one where we were kissing she posted on one of her social media accounts. The last few ones when we made funny faces she sent to Dean.

If I ever lost her, I think I'd lose my mind. Absolute go crazy, not saying she keeps me from going crazy, she's just the love of my life, and I simply wouldn't know what to do with myself if she was suddenly gone.

Twelve pm. "Come on Sammy! Let's open gifts please!" Y/n says jumping all over the living room. I hummed and sat down on the couch. Y/n pulled a few of my gifts out and grabbed hers. Handing a few small ones and a few bigs ones.

Books, cooking books, a photo album, a few other silly little things, but she still had one box for me. "Here open these honey," I said handing her a few boxes that were wrapped in reindeer wrapping paper. She gushed over the paper and then tore into the gifts.

I too had grabbed her books, a few things from the craft store, and literally anything else she had hinted to during the year. A new necklace because the other was tarnished, a subscription to amazon prime because she has a tendency to buy a lot of things.

She smiled having a few tears in the cusp of her eyes. She rushed up from the floor and jumped into my lap, "Thank you, baby! So much!" I wrapped my hands around her waist to keep her in my lap. She was kissing up a storm on my face, missing either on purpose or accidentally my lips.

We stayed like this for a few moments. Just kissing each other, staying in the moment forever. The kissing wasn't harsh or teeth rode. It was sweet and slow, her lips against mine. Moments like this I memorized her shape and the way her lips tasted against mine.

She rested her head against my chest, and we stayed like this for a few, before she got up and noticed that we both two boxes left. "What do you think we can open them up at the same time?!" So we did, opening them and holding the cute jumpers up in the air at the same time. I could barely see Y/ns eyes over the jumper, then noticed something very cute, and funny.

"Y/n, sweetheart?" I asked she hummed in response. "did.. we got the same gift for each other I think." I said finally I could see Y/n's eyes. She gasped and then giggled. There are other things I'd add to that dictionary, or the book, or whatever.

She giggled and got up running towards the bathroom. "I'm going to go try this on Sammy!"She screamed as she slipped down our hardwood floor and into the bathroom. I went and found the box, the box that had the simple ring it, a set of three diamonds on a gold band.

I heard the clasp of the door open, and then Y/n started talking, on one knee I stayed until Y/n noticed I wasn't answering her back. She looked down at me, then at my hands. Back the jumpers that I was also wearing, "You look cute in your jumper love, so I have a whole speech planned out here. I.. umm... I have spent a large portion of my life loving you from afar, then I got you and I could love you up close you are mine, but I want to be able to wake up next to you forever, I want to continue to make you giggle and laugh, smile at the little things I say to you. I so desperately want to be the father of your kids, have more Christmas like this, so I guess what I'm asking you is simple. Will you Y/n L/n marry me?" I asked her.

No moments of silence she was down on the floor with me, kissing my face repeating 'yes' over and over again. "A hundred times yes, thousand times yes. God, I love you, Winchester. "She said as I slipped the three stones onto her finger.

We kissed again but this just felt different, maybe it was because she wasn't just a girlfriend anymore she is the rest of my life, she's my forever. She is my Mrs. Winchester.

We broke from our kiss, she grabbed her phone and took a picture of course of her hand and then one of us again for the second time. Sending it off yet again. She was happy, and that's all I have ever wanted for her.

Completed on: 05/28/2021

Posted on: 05/28/2021

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shadowdianne · 3 years

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A friend who is actually starting to write her own book sent me a little thing back at instagram which was a cute version of inktober. For each day of august a prompt of word. She asked me to do it with her, as a way of making her write even a short paragraph each day and motivate her. I said yes, but since I'm quite the overachiever I did all previous days plus today and my plan is to do them all now that I'm up to date with the ones I was "supposed" to have done. Anyway, the rules we set for this were no tailoring afterward, no editing, and a max of 15 lines. It's not fanfic but if anyone wants to read them...

1.- Circle

The grass was dry beneath their feet as they moved, the nighttime air filled with the chants of those who hold the candles as they moved, shadows undulating, changing, as they rose their arms. However, If anyone would have dared to peek from beyond the trees that surrounded the clearing, they would have only seen the blue formations of the will-o-wisps as they moved and created the never-ending circle and yet, however, if any bystander clever enough, magical enough, interested enough, would have kept on watching, battling against the feeling of being watched that would have crept out on their back, they would have seen the figures, the lights, form and change and transform until the will-o-wisps were gone and, on their wake, the circle would have led to the wings of those departed, waiting for their time to come so they could traverse to the place beyond.

2.- Changeling

Their eyes are never the right color, their mouths form words no-one should speak outload, they teach us to never share our meals, our names with them, for they do not belong to us anymore that they do belong to what lies beyond the veil that permeates magic and secrets. Their souls were sold, way beyond they were formed, even if they wear lead and silver like any mortal would. They can touch salt, and eat it as well, but their redemption lies beyond the crosses and symbols of the religion that they were brought up into. You can make deals with them, they teach us, you can peer into those eyes and try not to lose yourself if you are willing, but remember that their bodies are borrowings, copies of imperfect molds. They exist and they can bring gifts, for they can step into said veil, but there’s nothing that will make them human, or mortal, even if they think of themselves as such.

3.-Lottery

The numbers bled ink onto her palm as she brought it closer to her eyes, the rain around her turning ice-cold as she tried to peer beyond it. The air freezing as she rose her free hand and moved a few stray hairs out of her eyes. She could feel the chill on her back and neck, the razor sting of the water turning to hail. “Is someone there?” She wanted to ask, the silhouette she had seen -she had thought she had seen- walking down the road now nowhere to be found. The lottery ticket kept flapping against the wind, the numbers beginning to smear as she brought it closer to her chest. Numbers, she would soon find out when she entered into one of the few shops down her street that would take it, that changed with notable pace. There was never a wrong one, she would realize, for each number would always be the correct one, would always give the answer that would need to be given in order to win. Then, she would ask, why the ticket was also stained with blood?

4.-Officiate

The bold man rose his arms and looked at us with a grave look, the shadows within the chapel seeming to grow and wreathe as we all stood, waiting. There was very little to do, beyond keeping up with his stare as he repeated the old mantra I’ve known by heart for longer than my years would have said. I let my mind wander when he didn’t stare at me, trying to catch the sins off our memories, the reason why we have been brought up here. I looked at the stained glass at his back, at the stories that were told with jaded crystals that our memories had conjured. With each night, the stained glass seemed brighter, our souls, according to him, purer. And yet, I felt light-headed, weak, as my eyes were captured once more, distant screams scurrying through the floor as we fell, knees first. Again, and again, and again.

5.-Enchant

He eyed the pendant that hung from between their intertwined fingers, the jewel encased in the middle of the brass and silver lines glinting under the electric light that hung above them. He was still able to taste the wine he had consumed a few minutes prior, the tanginess of it, the way it had stained his teeth. The light within the pendant glowed stronger as it beckoned them, their breath halting and then speeding up as their feet rose from carpeted floors, the wood panels that covered the room’s walls seemingly to throb as they kept on grabbing the pendant, the magic, scribbled beyond the details the artisan had created for them both. “A promise trapped in glass” The old man has whispered as he had given it to him. “A secret written within it.” He had replied, the words strange but expected, such was the way of the saying. He now was able to fear the heat radiating from the pendant, the magic, and he knew he had been lied to.

6.-Science

Beakers tinkled as she looked around the room, the papers, scattered around the body, the last strength of the dead man’s hand thrown over one small portion of white paper that was now marred with words she wasn’t able to understand. The inspector knelt next to the body, not bothering to check the man’s pulse as she knew him dead; the trail of blood pooling on his back enough proof of that, alongside with the scalpel, the broken pieces, of what could have been his latest experiment. Outside, beyond the sea of voices so normal in an investigation site, she could almost listen to the crows she had seen upon entering the building, their beaks open in a sempiternal smirk. She frowned and stood, fingers ironing her clothing reflexively as she took into the laboratory, the slight stench of fluids that had been spilled. And then she winced as her finger opened, sliced by one of the speckles of glass that covered her pants. Stupid, noob, she could listen to the scornful remarks others would tell her, if only the heat that now seemed to burn from her insides would end.

7.- Basket

It was sturdy, the old woman would often say when trying to sell the ones she made in front of her home, the porch worn and slanted but still giving her enough shade for her hands to work without breaking a sweat. It was sturdy and practical and all new-commers should buy one. What would you do, she would say with eyes so clouded they looked like the sky in a stormy day, with the things one was supposed to carry for long travels? What would you do with your food and waterskins? Where would you carry them? She would scoff at the words of those who politely told her that they had their backpacks. “They are not as reliable” She would reply, but she would shoo them away nevertheless, her interest depleted the moment they told her that they were supposed to go for the distant mountains, the ones that seemed blue from where they stood. She would insist more, sometimes, if they seemed hesitant to say not to her, toothless smile and quick tongue quickly lifting a few coins from their purses. It was sturdy, she would say to them, as she gave them the promised basket, the sigils woven into it blinking once, twice, beyond their eyes. She would smile then, promising them good travels, safe travels. She was rarely wrong.

8.- Ensnare

The gardener looked at yet another vine, sweat rolling down his brow, he could feel the dirt slowly resettling itself as he watched, the steps of the poor unfortunate who had ended up being trapped, ensnared, by the vines already beginning to disappear. There was very little he was able to do now, the body mangled beyond recognition, and so he brought a clean cloth and his sears and began the process of recollecting what little he was able to get, at least for the ones who had lost another family member, for the dead to be tolled, he didn’t quite hate his job, it paid well, as long as he himself kept away from the vines covering the mausoleum’s door. But there were days like this one, days in where the heat bothered and the vines were more playful than usual and their teeth nipped at his fingers, that he wondered about taking that final step, devoid of the protections the pendant around his neck gave him. If only to see if there was actually a way of getting lose from them all.

9.-Sky

Their wings fluttered, moved by the breeze that only they could see, and as the night covered everything in velvety black, the wings of the creatures grew in size, changing the sun with the moon, their eyes black holes that blossomed into galaxies only those keen eyed, where able to distinguish on the earth below. They danced around each other, the aurora borealis a stamp of colors their tails created their flight erratic for every night is different and every sky varies, even with the matted imperfections of their plumage -the constellations, those mortals would call them- The planets aligned as the sun disappeared, one last bite of fire hanging low on the horizon, and they kept on dancing, on transforming day to night, and then back and back again.

10.-Box

The box was engraved, numbers of family members so old it was difficult to remember them any longer. It was also covered in dirt, from the grave they had dug it up, their secrets locked away with a lock as well crafted as it was gorgeous; rust not seeming able to corrode the details of the metal parts that surrounded the names. Cold to the touch, permanently, it seemed to leave a thin layer of frost no matter what object it touched, and she bit down her bottom lip as she tried to remember the old nursery rhymes her grandmother used to sing to her, about the secrets she was supposed to inherit, the clues she was supposed to recall. Nothing, however, came forth, her own fingers felt cold and detached and her vision blurred and gone, the will-o-wisp lights that had seemed to grow stronger the last time she checked into the forest that surrounded the home coming closer and closer to her now, asking for a permission they didn’t need as her own soul had granted such.

11.- Catapult

He run, almost slipping over a pool of oil as the noise of the fighters and soldiers below reached him, the sweat on his brow getting heavier with every passing second. He had been tasked with one thing and one thing only: being a novice there was only so much he could do with a sword after all. And so, he run, run towards the catapults waiting outside the castle, beyond the riverbank. All the careful planning had been for naught as they had found a way into the place using the old catacombs, the ones in where numbers appeared written in blood, passages of a bible so cursed there were only a few that could remember the name of the book itself. He hadn’t dared to ask how the enemies had found a way in; the eyes full of fear of his sergeant had been telling enough. And so, he willed his legs to carry him further as he kept on descending the stairs, moving between bodies, and propelling himself in-between those who fought. He had one job and one job only and he needed to reach the riverbank. Or else.

12.-Ladder

The wood of the ladder splintered beneath her fingertips, but she didn’t pay any mind to the pain on her flesh. There was no point to it, after all, for everything she had tried lied dead at her feet, the eyes of the multitude stuck on her as she felt stricken by fear. She had been propped up the unlit bonfire, read her sins, what she had been accused off, and called forth a blessing from the mute skies. She had looked up then, narrowing her eyes as she searched for the birds that changed as the seasons did; she had been taught, instructed, to find those in the case she was found. Yet, nothing came forth on that starless night, not even when she began to feel the stench of fog and fire about to reach her feet. For that, for fear, she transported herself as far as her powers allowed her; to the silo next to the old road; the one in where Old Granny used to sell her baskets to those stupid enough to transverse to the mountains. The silo was closed now, rot settling in of what had been a small hut back when she had been a child, and so she had waited and waited for the screams outside to disappear, her legs around the end of the ladder, her arms, and hands clutching the top of it. A mere second longer, she thought, she prayed, and she would be able to escape, to flee, to those blue mountains she still could see on her mind’s eye.

13.-Carnivorous

The wolf is not evil, despite its large smile and piercing teeth, its tongue as red as the blood it consumes. The wolf is not evil but a warning, one created by the path that moves and curls around the forest, a way of keeping you focused and not dead. The wolf is not evil, it eats what you eat, it grows from what you learn. The wolf is not evil but a companion, one to listen to when you are traveling, hoping for the next curve of the trail to show the shadows of a town nearby. The wolf is not evil, but a guide, a mortal one, that can travel between what you know and what you definitely shouldn’t pry about. The wolf is not evil. Merely carnivorous.

#yes #they are connected #in a way #I'm creating a time line on the go but I plan to have something done by the end of the month that you can follow through if you read them #aughost

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captainjanegay · 3 years

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

Summary:

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

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

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

1. December 9th, 1928

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2. December 14th, 1936

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3. December 20th, 1938

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4. December 1st, 2024

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

5. December 5th, 2025

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And what Steve does? The fucker laughs at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stay with me for a bit?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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noona-la-la-la · 5 years

Text

Flight 18

Summary: Korean Air Flight 18 leaves daily from Los Angeles traveling to Seoul. You’ve taken this flight before, but this time you’ve got an irritating passenger in the neighboring seat. Little did you know that he would end up giving you the ride of your life.

Wordcount: 9500 ish. This was only supposed to be a small drabble, but I got carried away.

Warnings: Sex sex sex! Oral sex for everybody. Finger banging. Penis in vagina. Sex with strangers! Sex in a bathroom so if you are germ phobic, good luck with that. Also, dirty talking vulgarity galore.

Notable: It’s Hoseok y’all! So you can stop nagging me about how I don’t have any Hobi fics!

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“See something you like?” The man sitting across from you at the boarding gate stretched out his hands and spread his knees further apart, as if inviting you to take a closer look.

“I… I’m sorry. I was just zoning out. I didn’t even realize I was looking in your direction,” you lied.

“Uh-huh. Sure. Tell yourself whatever you need to, “ he replied with a smirk.

You ignored him, raising the book you had been reading higher, covering your face in an attempt to hide your embarrassment. The truth was you had been staring, but not because you were attracted. Instead you were appalled that anyone would show up to an airport dressed like that.

This guy, whoever he was, had shown up to the airport wearing shorts that appeared to be nothing more than a pair of gray sweats that had been cut off at the knees and a denim jacket that he had only bothered to use two buttons to close. He had on no shirt underneath and with his jacket being barely closed, a large portion of his upper chest and his abdomen were visible. His sweat-shorts were hung low on his hips to make sure the waistband of his Balenciaga underwear was visible for all to see. A hat kept his hair completely covered -- the only modest thing about him.

To think that guy would presume that you might be looking at him because you found him attractive was laughable. He looks like the kind of guy who got kicked out of his apartment for not paying rent. Probably couldn’t afford rent because he wasted all his money on stupid designer underwear. His landlord probably kept the rest of his wardrobe as collateral.

You stifled a laugh, amused by your own thoughts on why this stranger showed up to the airport looking like that. Attracted to him? As if.

Peeking over the top of your book to surreptitiously glance at the man again, you were relieved to see his eyes were closed. His arms were folded across his chest, causing his jacket to ride up some more, bringing his belly button into view. So tacky, you thought. Although, you had to admit to yourself, it was a nice belly button on a very nice abdomen… No, you shook your head, it doesn’t matter how nice his body is when this guy clearly has no sense of propriety.

Ladies and Gentlemen, we will now begin pre-boarding for Flight 18 to Inchon International Airport, South Korea…

You gathered your things and moved with the throng of people queuing up to board the plane. The flight had already been delayed by more than an hour and people seemed anxious to move as quickly as possible. Normally you would dread the 13 hour flight from Los Angeles to Seoul, but you had saved enough frequent flyer miles to get an upgrade to business class. You had taken this flight too many times in the noisy and cramped economy class and you were almost looking forward to relaxing in your extra long fully reclining seat with personal multimedia console and full bar service.

The business class cabin had wide seats staggered so as to allow some semblance of privacy. The center aisle had side by side seating separated by a low wall with a retractable window, allowing for traveling companions to chat or for strangers to put the window up and avoid interaction with each other. You were disappointed to see you had one of the center aisle seats instead of the single seats by the windows -- but took comfort that the wall between you and your neighbor meant that you wouldn’t be trapped in some idle chit chat for 13 hours.

You were struggling to get your carry on luggage into the overhead compartment when you heard a voice, “You aren’t a stalker, are you?”

With a final shove, your bag slid into place and you looked across your seat to see the man who would be sitting next to you for the flight. It’s was mister half-dressed-Balenciaga-underwear himself.

“Excuse me?” you asked.

“I asked if you were a stalker. First I catch you staring at me and now you’re sitting next to me… Look. I’m happy to give you an autograph or whatever, but I need to know you aren’t going to be one of those people who tries to take pictures of me while I’m asleep,” he said with a straight face.

“Is this some kind of joke? Why would anyone take pictures of you when you sleep?”

He looked at you inquisitively, one eyebrow cocked upward, and paused before replying. “So, you don’t know who I am?”

You tilted your head to the side, trying to see him from a different angle. “Am I supposed to know who you are? Are you famous or something?”

He thrust his hands in his pockets, causing his shorts to ride even lower on his hips, and shrugged his shoulders. “I guess I’m not famous enough if you don’t know me. Sorry to have interrupted you, please carry on.” With that, he plopped down in his seat and pulled a pair of headphones out of his bag, indicating the time for talking was now over.

You were left a bit flustered by the interaction. What a weird guy, you thought to yourself, hoping that this would be the last time you had to speak to him. You settled into your seat and closed your eyes as you awaited take-off but, despite your best efforts, your mind started to drift to thoughts of the man seated next you. What is this guy’s deal? Is he actually famous or is he just screwing with me? He is kind of good looking. But he’s so brash. He’d have to be brash to dress like that in public. Tacky. ��Tacky and brash… and a bit good looking.

“Would you like a drink, madam?” The flight attendant interrupted your thoughts to take your order.

“I’ll just have some water for now, thanks.”

“That sounds good,” the man next to you lowered the window that separated you to more easily speak to the attendant. “Only can you make mine a soda water? And add some vodka in there with it?”

“Yes, sir.” The attendant giggled, finding the way he ordered cute. You just rolled your eyes.

When the attendant returned, she handed you a small bottle of water and then reached across you to pass your neighbor his vodka and soda. You waited for a minute, assuming he would put the window back up, but when he didn’t -- you leaned forward to reach the button to put it up yourself only to be startled by his head suddenly popping through the opening.

“You really don’t know who I am?” He was leaning forward over the armrest, encroaching on your private space.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t. Is that a problem?” You wondered at this man’s ego.

He flashed a wide smile. “No. It’s actually great. It means when you were staring at me back at the boarding gate, it was because you were attracted to me and not because you were looking at a celebrity.” His eyes wandered across your body, making no attempt to hide that he was looking you up and down. “You aren’t too bad looking yourself, you know.”

You were agitated by his assumptions and blurted out the first thing that came to your mind, “You aren’t even wearing a shirt! How could I not look? Who dresses like that in public?!”

“So you’re more into my body than my face? That’s okay. I can work with that.” He winked at you before leaning back into his own seat and raising the window.

Stunned into silence, you stared at the barrier that separated the two of you. You could only see his hat poking up above the retractable window and you contemplated snatching it off his head and beating him with it. How could anyone be so audacious to say something like that?

You tried to read your book, but your focus kept being pulled back to the stranger in the seat next to you. What does he mean that he “can work with that”? You turned the page and squinted, reading the same paragraph multiple times in a row because you could not get the words to make sense. Also, who asked him for his opinion on my appearance. “Not that bad?” Whatever. I know what I look like. And he’d be lucky to be with someone like me.

Reading was pointless, so you plugged in your earphones and turned on the video console, flipping through the channels looking for something mindless to watch. You tried watching a movie, but your mind continued to wander. Seriously, who is that guy? Was he flirting with me? Is that what’s going on here? He is kinda cute in a dirty obnoxious sort of way.

You could feel your cheeks start to flush at the thought that the stranger could really be attracted to you and then immediately admonished yourself. Stop it! I always do this. Just because a guy is overly confident and shows the slightest bit of interest, I don’t need to be flattered. But, against all your efforts to maintain your composure, you couldn’t help but smile at the thought that this guy, even with all his arrogance and poor fashion choices, might be a little bit into you.

A few hours into the flight, the meal service began. When the attendant brought you your dinner, the guy in the seat next to you lowered the window again and looked at your tray of food.

“What did you end up ordering?” he asked without any preamble.

“I got the fish.” You answered curtly, but politely.

“I got the beef,” he answered you even though you had not bothered to ask him what he was eating. “I was thinking about the fish but I’ve had enough bad experiences with low quality airplane seafood to make me think twice about ordering it again. Is it any good?”

“It’s fine.” You refused to look at him as you answered his questions, not wanting to encourage him further.

“Can I try a bite?”

You set your fork on your plate, irritated at his rudeness. Who asks people they don’t know for the food off their plate? You turned to tell him that his request for a bite would be denied, when you once again given an unexpected shock. “Oh my god! Will you please button up? I can see your nipples!”

“Oh? Hmmm. I didn’t even realize the buttons had come undone.” He reached down and buttoned just two buttons on his jacket, making himself look only slightly less indecent.

“How do you not notice that you are basically topless?”

“I don’t know. I was warm. It happens. Besides, what’s the big deal with a little nipple action. I wouldn’t be freaking out and asking you to cover up if your nipples popped out of your top.”

You sputtered. “I… what? No. I mean… no. I would not have any nipples popping out because I would be wearing a shirt. Like I am now. A shirt! A real honest to god top that covers me and is appropriate for an airplane. Why aren’t you wearing a shirt like a normal person for god’s sake?!”

“That seems like an awfully personal question to be asking someone you just met.” His brows furrowed and his lips pulled taut. “Are you always so forward?”

Your own eyes flew wide open and you could feel the heat rising up your neck -- unsure whether this was frustration or embarrassment. How was it possible for this man to suddenly act as though he was the respectable person in this conversation.

Suddenly, his stern expression gave way to laughter. He could barely contain his glee. “Look at your expression. Wow! You look totally flustered!”

You reached over to raise the window and block him out again, but he pushed the button down to thwart you.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “Do you really want to know why I don’t have a shirt on? Because there’s a story to this, but I don’t know if you really want to hear it.”

You doubted that he had a good reason for his attire, but you were curious. “Go on.”

“So here’s the deal. I actually had tickets for a flight back to Seoul tomorrow. But last night, my schedule for today got canceled. I asked my manager to try to get me on an earlier flight. He wasn’t sure if it was going to work out because it looked like all the flights were booked. So I said, see what you can do and call me if you get something booked and I’ll be ready to go whenever.”

“So far this sounds like a very average story about trying to change your flight. Where does the no shirt thing get explained?” you asked.

“I’m getting to it. Since I wasn’t sure if the flight change was even going to happen, I went on about my evening…” he paused to think about how he wanted to phrase things. “Let’s just say, I went out socializing and I ended up falling asleep at my, um, new friends’ house. When I wake up this morning, I’ve got 10 messages from my manager. He had been trying to get me all night to tell me he got me on the noon flight to Seoul, but I had my ringer turned down really low and didn’t hear him. When I called him back, he said he had gotten all my stuff packed up and sent my clothes to the airport with my stylist…”

“You have a stylist and you still end up coming to the airport like this?”

“Just let me finish, alright? He said the stylist took my luggage with most of my clothes to the airport with her to start checking in and he had my carry on and passport and everything. I just needed to meet them at the airport. So I go to find the clothes I was wearing the night before, but one of the girls in bed with me was asleep wearing my shirt…”

“Wait! One of the girls in bed with you? How many girls were in this bed?” This guy was something else, you thought.

“Only two. I’m not crazy -- more than two is nearly impossible to manage. Anyways, I try to wake her up so I can get my shirt back, but she’s super groggy and still half asleep and she’s grabbing at my junk like she wants to suck my dick again, but I don’t have time for that. So, I just put on my jacket, leave, and hail a cab to the airport. When I got there, my stylist already checked in my luggage under her name, so all I had was this one backpack I always use as my carry on. My manager somehow remembered to throw in a fresh pair of underwear for me, but nothing else. And so here I am, wearing last night’s clothes, minus one shirt and adding a fresh pair of undies.”

You weren’t sure whether or not to believe him. “So… huh. Um. Well, that sure is a story.”

“You look like you don’t believe me.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just that it’s so… I don’t even know. So you’re wearing the same clothes you supposedly had sex in last night?”

“I took the clothes off to have sex. So technically, no, I did not have sex in these clothes.” His face was relaxed as he relayed his story, no sign of embarrassment or shame.

“Most people would want to keep those details private, wouldn’t they.”

“I don’t know about most people, but I was just answering your question. Besides it’s true and there’s nothing to be ashamed about. We’re all grown-ups here.”

“Still, it feels so dirty.”

“Like I said, I’m wearing fresh underwear. Also, when the flight got delayed, that gave me time to run over to the lounge and use the showers in the spa. That’s why I have to keep my hat on -- didn’t have time to do my hair after the shower, I had to run back to the gate. The point being, you don’t have to worry about there being any sex-juices or other-girl-cooties on my body. I’m fresh and clean and ready to be put to use, if that’s something you’d like.”

“I… what?!” You were dumbfounded. This man you had just met was telling you sordid stories about his sex life and then asking if you would like “put him to use”. Your mind reeled. “Why would you even say that?”

“Because I think you’re kinda hot. And you think I’m kinda hot too. So, why not? Besides, I’m not expecting you to make a decision now. I’m just laying the groundwork so you’ll feel ready when I make a real proposition to you.”

Never in your life had anyone been so brazen with you. “How is this laying the groundwork for anything?” you asked incredulously.

“Because now you’re thinking about my dick,” he smirked.

“I am not!” you huffed.

“Anyhow - I’ll leave you to finish your meal in peace. We can talk more later.” And he pressed the button to raise the window, again separating himself from you, only the blue of his hat visible above the barrier.

You ate your meal in silence but couldn’t really enjoy the taste of anything because he was right, you were actually thinking about his dick.

Stop. Stop stop stop stop, you told yourself. But there was no stopping it. You picked up your book, but every few minutes, you’d pause to wonder who those women were that he had sex with last night. Did he know them well? Why did they want to have sex with him so badly that they were willing to share him? How does one man even manage to satisfy two women? Does he have some kind of magical sexual prowess? Is this story even true? He has to be making this up.

You ordered a glass of wine and listened to some music. One song in particular reminded you of your last boyfriend. The two of you had broken up over two months ago and you hadn’t had so much as a date since then. Lack of sexual compatibility was part of the reason you split -- but general boredom was the primary motivator.

You ex was the epitome of a nice guy. Easy going, unassuming, respectful. You didn’t go out much during the week since both of you had full time jobs and wanted to be well rested for work. Weekends were spent at farmers markets, scenic drives through the woods, going to the movies. It was pleasant. In bed, he was romantic and caring, always careful and cautious with your body, wanting to make sure you were okay. It was an absolutely stress free love affair. And that was part of the problem.

After a while, you started to crave tension. It showed up first in the bedroom when you asked him to pull your hair or talk dirty to you as a change of pace. He tried, you had to give him credit for that. But every time he uttered the word pussy or said he wanted to fuck you, the words came out whispered and hesitant. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that even if he learned how to say those words with confidence, you would still be wanting much more than he was able to give.

Over time, you started to realize your dissatisfaction had worked its way into all your interactions. He was always so agreeable. You shared the same views on social matters and politics. He never disagreed when you suggested a movie to watch or restaurant to go to. You began to wonder if he really was someone who shared all your points of view on everything, all the time -- or was he just so conflict avoidant that he had given up having a personality of his own.

I bet that guy has a filthy mouth on him. Even if he is an asshole, I’m sure he knows how to have a good time. You pondered the raised barrier and were curious as to why he had not tried talking to you again. It had been a couple of hours since your last interaction and he made it sound like you should be waiting for him to hit on you. Oh my god - am I actually looking forward to that cocky son-of-a-bitch talking to me again? No, I’m just attention starved. I need to start dating again -- but real men, not make believe celebrities with no shame.

The captain turned off the main lights in the cabin to give people an opportunity to sleep if they wanted. You closed your eyes and reclined your seat. Maybe it would be best to just try to sleep for a bit and put everything out of my mind. You would be more clear headed if I just got some rest.

It was a few hours later when you awoke. The cabin was quiet. A few people conversed in hushed tones, the faint glimmer of an occasional video screen. One of those glimmering screens was coming from your neighbor.

You stretched a bit and moved your seat to be a little more upright. Surprisingly, the window between your seats was down. Did he lower it to try to talk to me while I was asleep? You peered over at him and took comfort that he was fast asleep, clearly having dozed off while trying to watch a movie.

His slumber gave you an opportunity to really look at him more closely. He looked serene and gentle when he wasn’t awake. His facial features were really quite delicate, a high narrow nose bridge, moderately plump and perfectly pink lips, high cheekbones, his face was gently tanned by the sun. You would describe him as almost pretty. His clavicles were pronounced, his chest a bit paler than his face -- he must have been wearing his shirt when he went out in the California sun -- his abdomen was taut and firm, he clearly worked out.

You let your eyes travel further, until noticed something striking going on with his shorts. At first you wondered if it was just an odd shadow being cast from the lights from the video screen, but the more you looked, the more certain you were that you were looking at an erection. Not fully erect, you presumed, but there was enough that the draping of the fabric could not conceal everything he had going on between his legs. This was the distinct form of a penis and you couldn’t stop staring at it.

“See something you like down there?”

His voice caught you by such surprise you literally jumped in your seat and hit your elbow against the side wall, knocking over your headphones, sending them clattering to the floor. “Ouch! No. What? I… what? No. I was just… I woke up and I saw the window thingy was down and was just checking to see if you wanted to talk to me or something… or you know.”

He laughed aloud, stretched his arms over his head and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Were you planning on asking my dick whether or not I wanted to talk to you? Because I doubt it’s going to tell you much.”

“What?! I.. no! What are you talking about?” You tried to act indignant to hide your humiliation at being caught staring at his genitals. When trapped, deny everything, you thought.

“Are you married? Have a boyfriend?” He rolled to his side, still reclined in his seat.

“No. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“I know I come on strong. But life is short and I just think if you want something, you should say so. And I want you.”

You could feel your heart skip a beat at his directness, but you tried to hold your expression steady. There was no point in getting involved with a guy like this. “You don’t even know me.”

“Ah, let me be more clear. I want to have sex with you. Right now.” He carefully watched your face to judge your reaction. “Was that too forward? I could try the romantic approach if you want, but I always feel like it’s a little dishonest. I never want to mislead anyone.”

Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest and you felt a little light headed. You had a couple one night stands back in your wilder college days, but those days were long gone. Besides, no one had ever approached you quite like this. “I appreciate your candor, but I’m just not that kind of girl.”

“What kind of girl do you think is the kind to say yes?” He started to sit upright, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“I don’t know exactly. You had two women in bed with you last night -- so those kinds of women, I guess.”

“Do you think you are better than them because they gave in to their carnal desires and just let themselves enjoy the moment? No one was hurt. There was no damage done.”

“How do you know there was no damage done? You just left them there.”

He shook his head, dismissing your statement. “They were groupies, star fuckers. I was just a name on their bucket list. Last night they had sex with me and tomorrow night they’ll be chasing down Shawn Mendes or some other dude. I gave them what they wanted and they gave me a hell of a good time. Is that so bad?”

This seemed so unbelievable to you. “Are you really famous? Or have you just been messing with me?”

“Is me being a celebrity the thing that will make the difference in whether you say yes or no to having sex with me?”

You started to squirm under his gaze. Until now, he had been cocky and arrogant, but it all seemed like a game. Now, it was starting to get a little more serious and you weren’t sure what to do with yourself. “I don’t actually care if you’re famous or not. I’m just not generally the kind of person who does whatever she wants -- there are rules against these kinds of things, you know?”

“So you admit that you want it too.” He looked a bit too pleased with himself.

“That’s not what I said.”

“Are you sure? It sounds to me like you are trying to talk yourself out of something you actually want. What’s the point of that?

You immediately thought of your ex-boyfriend again. Simple, proper, agreeable and dull. You had left him for want of more excitement and now here was a man you just met, who was offering you nothing but excitement. But still, you hesitated, remaining silent but not explicitly saying no.

He reached into his backpack and pulled out a condom, making sure you saw it before he slipped it into his pocket. “Safety first,” he said. “Also, no strings. No commitments. One time - no shame, no guilt. No consequences.”

“I don’t know…” was all you could eke out.

“It’s time for you to figure out what you want. So here’s the deal,” he sat up and turned to face you fully. “I’m getting up and heading into that restroom over there,” he motioned toward the front of the plane, pointing to the left. “I’ll leave the door unlocked while I wait for you. If you decide to join me, just pop in. From there on, it’s ladies choice. I can make it as sweet or as nasty as you want it to be.”

“What happens when I don’t show up?”

“IF you don’t show up, then you don’t show up. I’m a big boy -- I’ll find other ways to occupy myself.” With that, he stood up and swaggered away.

This is insane. Who does this guy think he is? How full of himself is he that he can saunter off expecting me to follow him? You glanced at the time on your phone. I wonder how long he plans on waiting?

You remembered reading an article about people who have sex on airplanes; it said that almost 20 percent were complete strangers who met on the plane. At the time you couldn’t imagine how something like that was even possible. I guess I know now.

You wanted to giggle to find yourself in this predicament. You wanted to be outraged at how presumptuous he had been, but instead you found yourself feeling a bit flattered. It’s just because I haven’t had much male attention in the past two months. I’m just feeling a bit deprived - that’s all it is. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t even entertain the thought of doing something like this. But you were entertaining it and it made you nervous.

You looked around the cabin, most of the other passengers were fast asleep. The few who were awake mostly seemed to be watching movies with headphones on. The flight attendants were chatting quietly on the right hand side of the galley, leaving the restrooms on the left side, mostly ignored.

What would my friends say? Inha would think it’s gross. Hyeweon would think it’s hilarious. Dahyun would applaud you for taking risks and trying something new. Chaewon would be jealous.

Six minutes. That’s how much time had passed. How long will he wait? 10 minutes? 15? Certainly not more than that.

You had met girls who were wild and slept around. When you were younger you used to think that they would end up regretting their poor choices. Yet, you had never once met anyone who told you they wished they had less sex or that they had fewer adventures in their past. Why are you overthinking this! Be bad for once in your life. Who have you ever talked to that regretted going wild? Nobody - that’s who! Regret is what you feel when you don’t do something, right? But still… sex with a stranger?

You don’t even fully remember standing up and walking down the aisle. All you knew was that your hand was on the door to the restroom and there was no turning back now.

There was no greeting. No welcome. Just his lips crashing into yours, fervently prying your mouth open with his tongue. Your body stiffened in surprise but you did not try to pull away. His skin was smoother than you expected, his scent was sweet and fresh like the air after a summer rain, his lips seemed far too soft for the violence and urgency of the kiss itself.

In a far corner of your mind, you could hear your conscience telling you to stop, to run away and return to your seat, to retreat to the relative safety and comfort of your normal self. But as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled your tighter against his body, that voice became more and more distant, until finally it disappeared altogether. You finally relaxed, sinking into him and wrapping your tongue around his.

Just let everything go and do as you please for once, you told yourself. Just this once, with no fear and no regrets.

His kisses moved to your neck as he began to maul you with his hands, squeezing your buttocks, reaching up to molest your breasts, grasping at them through your shirt. His motions were rough and passionate. His teeth scraped against your skin while he tugged at your shirt hem, trying to remove it. You obliged his silent request by pulling away from his grasp, slipping your shirt over your head and tossing it on the counter.

He did not lean back in to continue kissing you. Instead, he leaned back as much as he could in the confines of the tiny restroom to assess your body, lingering on your chest. His hand reached out to trace the edges of your bra before he finally spoke to you. “How do you want it?”

“Excuse me? I don’t under…”

“How do you want things to go?” He looked up at you, holding your gaze. “I told you this will be ladies choice. Tell me what you want me to do?”

You could feel yourself starting to blush. You had been comfortable letting him take control, but now that he was putting you on the spot to ask for what you wanted, you found yourself growing shy. You broke eye contact with him and looked down at your feet, crossing your arms as you tried to think of what to say.

“Cat got your tongue?” he teased. “You’re more delicate than I presumed. So do you prefer gentle and sweet? I can whisper sweet nothings in your ear.”

“No. Not like that.” You shook your head to emphasize that romance was not your objective. You had enough of romance and sweetness.

“Well then... You want it dirty and you’re just too shy to ask for it?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I mean, some dirty talk might be nice.”

“Some? Exactly how much is some? I can get pretty filthy if you want me to.”

Awkwardly, you put your arms back by your side and glanced up at him, trying to feign confidence. “How filthy?”

His eyes flashed with desire as he leaned closer to you, running his hands down your arms. “Let’s try this. Take off your bra and let me see you.”

You reached behind yourself to unclasp your bra, a slight tremor in your hands. You were extremely conscious of how bright the lights were and it made you a little nervous to be so exposed and so visible. “What about you?” you asked as you let your bra slip off your shoulders and you placed it on top of your shirt.

“Me?” He unbuttoned his jacket and tossed it aside. “Done. Now we’re both topless.”

He leered at your chest now, cupping your breasts in his hand as if weighing them. “Very nice. You have beautiful breasts.” He watched your face closely for a response.

“Thanks, I guess.” You weren’t sure what he was expecting from you.

“That’s not it, huh? How about this?” He ran his thumbs over your nipples, brushing against them until they grew and hardened. “I love a girl with a nice pair of tits. Yours are amazing. I can’t wait to suck on those nipples.”

His directness was appealing. “I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

Leaning down, he caught your left nipple between his lips and sucked at it, his tongue running circles over it. The sensation was pleasant and you reached over to pull his hat off his head after suddenly being overwhelmed by the urge to run your fingers through his hair.

“I told you I’m having a bad hair day, so just know that.” He wagged a finger at you before pulling off his own hat and tossling his dark brown locks that had been matted down by hours confined under a hat.

He bent back down back down to suckle at your nipples, his lips latched tightly to the protruding bud. The suction sent little shock waves down between your legs as if your breasts were attached to your sex.

Soon, he detached himself and stood back up, whispering in your ear. “Your tits are tasty, but I bet your pussy is even better.” His hand slid between your legs, kneading your cloth covered crotch. Pulling back a little to better see your face, he asked you, “I want to touch your pussy.” He watched your reaction carefully. “Or would you rather I finger fuck your cunt?”

Your previous boyfriend would have sooner died than ever uttered the dreaded “c” word. But hearing a man you just met talk about your cunt thrilled you, and you could feel the moisture gathering between your legs. “Finger my cunt, please,” you whispered back at him.

He smiled and nodded. “Yeah, you do want it dirty don’t you?”

All you could do was nod in affirmation before he shoved his hand under the waistband of your pants and beneath your panties, tracing your slit before penetrating you with his fingers. He slid in and out of your vagina, the palm of his hand cupping your vulva. His lips returned to your neck, biting at you. The heat of his breath matched the growing warmth of your sex. “Oh, fuck! That feels good,” you encouraged him to keep going.

“You like that? You like having my fingers up your cunt hole? You like getting finger banged by some dude in a public toilet? Tell me again about what kind of girl you are. Little miss prim and proper, my ass.”

Biting your lip, you tried to hold back, but you couldn’t help it. You mewled like a cat to hear the filth coming from his mouth. Your stomach fluttered at the crude way he described your reality. You were now the kind of girl who lets a guy finger her in an airplane toilet. This was not who you thought you were when you woke up this morning.

Enthused by the sounds emanating from you, he started to finger you more vigorously. Slipping in a second digit and thrusting so hard, it shook your body. His other hand slid up your back, over your neck until his fingers were entwined with your hair. He ensnared a fistful of hair right at your scalp and pulled your head back, further exposing your neck to him. He licked a line from your clavicle to your chin and then planted a long lingering kiss on your lips.

Your mewls turned into a full on moan. Never had you been this turned on in your life. “Oh my god,” was the most coherent thing you could say.

“I love those little noises you are making, but if this is how you get from a finger fuck, I can’t wait to see how you react when I’ve got my face buried in your snatch. Now, let’s get these pants off of you.”

He tugged at your waistband, lowering your pants and panties together, getting them to mid thigh when you took over - wiggling to get them to fall to the floor before kicking them off completely. “Shouldn’t you be getting undressed too?” you asked.

“There’s some time before that’s necessary. Let’s take care of you first.” He tried to kneel down, but the tiny confines of the bathroom made it difficult. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you up off the floor and set you on to the narrow counter.

You sat precariously, one butt cheek halfway over the sink, and you could feel the cold hard metal of the faucet pressing uncomfortably into your backside. Before you could adjust yourself, you felt hands pressing your thighs upwards, bending your knees into your chest and without warning, something soft and wet snaking through the folds of skin between your legs. You clung tightly to the edge of the counter to keep from slipping off.

Looking to your side, you could see your reflection in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door, your naked body illuminated by the harsh light overhead. The rather unflattering lighting and pose was offset by the amazingly lurid sight of a man kneeling on the floor, his head pressed between your thighs.

He lapped at your clit, dragging his tongue across your pussy - wet and sloppy. You looked down at him, his face glistening with your juices just as he came up for air. “That’s one juicy and delicious cunt you got there. You get this wet for all the boys, or is it special for me?” he asked before diving back in, opening his mouth wide as if trying to devour you whole.

It felt amazing. The heat inside your grew with every stroke of his tongue against your raw flesh. He let go of one thigh and brought it to you damp slit, further spreading your lips apart. His nose pressed against your clit while he inserted his tongue where his fingers had been earlier. Sucking and slurping away at you.

“Mmmmmmmm…” You desperately tried to keep quiet. Biting down hard on your lower lip to prevent yourself from being overheard by the people outside, but still the occasional hushed moan or hum would escape your lips. The noises spurred him on to keep going, rubbing his face into you, covering himself with the glistening evidence of your arousal.

He let go of your other thigh to insert his fingers back into you while his lips affixed themselves directly to your clit. His fingers curving upward as he pumped them in and out of you, hitting your g spot with every stroke, while his tongue laved your clit. “Please don’t stop,” you pleaded as you grabbed on to his hair and pulled his face tighter into you. “Please.”

You extended your legs, realizing that the bathroom was so small that you could sit on the counter and plant your feet on the opposite wall, helping stabilize you enough that you could close your eyes and just let yourself feel the pleasure of this man ministering to your sex.

As your orgasm approached, you could feel you leg start to shake and your breath quicken. He sucked lightly at your clit before pulling back the hood and drawing his tongue gently across the surface. You gasped aloud at the intensity, which he took notice of. “You like that? You like being spread open wide and licked like a bitch in heat? Tell me.”

“Yeah. I like it.”

“What do you like? Say it. You aren’t the only one who wants to hear some dirty talk. Tell me what exactly you like.”

“I like it when you lick my cunt. I like the way your tongue feels against my clit. God, I’m going to cum if you keep doing it like this.”

Smiling, he returned to his duties; his mouth placed firmly against you and slurping at you like eating a ripe piece of fruit. He removed his fingers from inside you and instead used them to spread you pussy lips even wider open. The loss of sensation from within you was disappointing. You were so close to cumming right on his face, but the urgent desire to have something inside you was growing stronger.

“I need you inside me,” you implored.

He didn’t hesitate. Standing up from his position on the floor, he massaged the growing bulge in his shorts for a moment while staring directly into your eyes. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

Your eyes wandered down to where his hand was playing with himself. “I want you to fuck me. I want it so bad, you don’t even know.” Any reservations or shyness you once had was driven out by the overwhelming lust.

“Oh, I know.” His conceit was amazing, but you were too horny to care.

“So what are you waiting for?”

He pulled his shorts and underwear down in one fluid motion, leaving him completely naked in front of you. His body was lean and taut, the image of youthful sexuality. His dick stood proudly erect in front of him, firm and smooth. Between his two fingers, he held up the condom that he had stealthily removed from his pocket. “You, put it on me,” he demanded.

Sliding off the counter, you welcomed being able to stand upright for a moment, with nothing poking you in the back and no fear of accidentally slipping off. But once again the space was so cramped, that you could not both stand on the floor and not have your bodies collide. His distended dick brushed against your pussy as you grabbed the condom from his hand.

He leaned in and kissed you again, deeply and passionately. “Can you taste yourself? You were fucking delicious, I could have stayed down there for hours. You should know what you taste like.” With that comment, he slipped his finger back between your folds, dipping into your juices and pulling out a slick and glazed finger. He held it to your lips. “Suck my finger and taste for yourself.”

You balked at first, never having even thought of what you might taste like. But he pressed forward and you grew curious, opening your mouth until he laid his finger on your tongue. You licked his finger clean, intrigued to see if you were as delicious as he had claimed. The salty sweet mixture was better than you imagined. “Good girl,” he told you.

Fumbling with the condom wrapper, you finally got it open and reached down to grab hold of his manhood. You held him in your palm and enclosed your fingers around him, meaning to hold him steady while you slipped the condom over the head of his dick, but you couldn’t resist stroking him with your hand for a moment. He sighed contentedly at the sensation and leaned back against the wall, allowing you more room to see what you were doing.

His penis was beautifully formed, you thought. Big enough but not too big. Firm and hefty, the girth felt just right in your hand. Without thinking, you pressed the head of his cock against your slit and stroked it against your clit. His eyes flew open wide and he looked down at what you were doing.

“Were you planning to fuck me raw?” he asked.

“No, I just wanted to know what it felt like.” You quickly slipped the condom over the tip and rolled it down his shaft. Although, you had to admit that the idea of having condomless sex seemed appealing -- but you had not yet lost all your sense of self preservation. “Now you have a little bit of my pussy juice under the condom with you.”

“You act so normal, but you’re a freak in the sheets, aren’t you?” He grabbed you by the shoulders and spun you around so he was pressed into your back while you could see his face reflected back at you in the mirror over the sink. “Now, spread your legs and hold still while I shove my cock up your hot little fuck-hole.”

You keened at the vulgarity, spreading your legs wide and leaning forward enough to arch your back slightly, giving him better access. He leaned over you, squatting down slightly to slip his penis into you, pressing his chest against your back and then thrusting upward, pushing forward and burying himself to his hilt inside your pussy.

“Good god, you are so warm inside.” He slowly pulled himself out before thrusting up into you again and again… and again. Slow and steady, he fucked you for several minutes, but you wanted more and started pushing back against him, egging him on to fuck you faster.

“Nice, “ was all he said before slapping your ass and speeding up his thrusts.

“Yeah,” you panted. “Very nice.”

He folded his body over you, planting one hand on the counter to hold him steady and sliding the other hand around you to stroke your clit while he fucked you. You could feel an ache starting to build up inside you and wanted more. You raised one leg and placed it on top of the closed toilet seat lid, spreading yourself open wider and giving him greater access to you.

As his fingers drummed against your clit, his thrusts accelerated. His body engulfed you and his mouth was pressed against your ear where he whispered to you. “Such a good girl, huh? Is this what you do? Fuck total strangers in bathrooms? You act all proper, but you really just want to get a good pounding in your cunt by some random dude. You don’t even know my name, do you?”

For the first time, it dawned on you that you had never bothered to ask his name. Nor had he asked for yours. The realization both appalled and thrilled you. This was by far the most depraved thing you had ever done. “What is your name?” you asked while he continued to plunge his cock deep into you.

“What does it matter now? You are fucking a total and absolute stranger. I’m going to make sure you cum on the cock of a guy whose name you don’t know. Just think about that, my dick is rammed up your cunt and you like it. What does that make you?”

You tried to fight the moan building in your throat. His words should offend you but instead they brought you closer to the edge. “A slut,” you answered him. “Fucking a total stranger makes me a slut.”

“That’s okay,” he consoled you. “I’m a dirty slut too.”

He grabbed your breast and buried his face in the crook of your neck, sucking on the skin. His fingers continued their assault on your clit while he pounded away at you pussy. Finally, you came undone, gasping, open mouthed in a silent scream as your orgasm hit with full force. Your body shook and all you could do was whimper quietly until finally the feeling subsided.

“Oh my god. That was amazing,” you turned around to face him.

“I’ll say.” He looked desperate and his eyes blown wide. “I could feel you pulsing around my cock. I was so close to cumming myself. I just need a little more to take me over the edge.”

“What exactly do you want?”

He moved you to the other side of the room so he could now sit on top of the closed toilet seat. Slipping off the condom, he told you exactly what he wanted. “Suck me off. I want to cum down your throat.”

You looked at his dick, standing ramrod straight, leaking precum from the tip. It looked ready to bust and you felt a strange pride that you had managed to get him this turned on. Without a second thought, you dropped to your knees and took him in your mouth.

His brow furrowed as he watched you bobbing your head up and down, snaking your tongue along his shaft. One hand held your hair back while the other balled up in a fist and rested on the counter. He was holding back, you could tell.

Redoubling your efforts, you locked your lips around him and focused on the head of his cock, swirling your tongue over the sensitive tip, before inching down further until you had swallowed as much of his flesh as you could stand.

“Fuck yeah. You are really good at this. You must have sucked a lot of dick.” For a guy who claimed to have had sex with two women the night before, you took this as a significant compliment. “I’m not going to last long if you keep this up.”

You came back up for air and smiled. Gripping his saliva covered cock, you stroked his shaft while planting delicate kisses at the tip. “I want to see you cum. I want to taste you. If I’m going to be a slut, I want it all.” You then plunged your head back down, sucking him like your life depended on it. You wanted him to remember you the next time he got his dick sucked by some random girl. Your pride depended on it.

It was only a couple minutes when he started to completely lose himself. You watched as he pursed his lips and threw his head back. His grip on your hair tightened and his eyes glazed over while you could see his abdomen contract and then you tasted it. The slightly salty, slightly bitter taste of his cum landed on your tongue. You pushed your head down further so he could truly cum down your throat and making it easier to swallow. It was only a few spurts, but they seemed to come out with great force, nearly making you choke.

When he was done, his body relaxed and he slumped forward. “My god, I’m going to need a nap after that. You sucked the life right out of me.” He leaned down, placing his hand under your chin and tipping your face upwards, planted a soft and rather sweet kiss on your lips. “Thank you. This was wonderful,” he said.

“The feeling is mutual.”

After giving yourselves a minute to bask in the afterglow, you both started the clumsy task of getting redressed in the tight confines of the bathroom. You bumped into each other, knocking into the walls and accidentally turning on the sink, until finally you were both dressed and ready to step outside.

As soon as you opened the door, a flight attendant stood in the passageway and greeted you with a knowing look. “If you both want to retake your seats, we’ll begin breakfast service soon and should be landing in another hour and a half.”

Mortified, you returned to your seat and tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone else on the plane. Had they all heard you? Did everyone know? Your partner in crime seemed unphased and immediately fell asleep as soon as he sat down.

The rest of the flight seemed to go without incident. You refused breakfast in order to avoid talking to the attendant and hid yourself behind your book. You tried to read, but the truth was you couldn’t help replaying the events from just an hour before while you grinned like a giddy schoolgirl, amazed that you had been caught doing something extremely naughty but somehow escaped punishment. You doubted that you would be able to think about anything else for days to come.

Once the plane landed, your neighbor finally awoke and stretched out. He looked across at you and smiled warmly. “Hey, I just want to say that I enjoyed our flight and will remember this fondly. I hope you will too.”

You tried to look look cool and unfussed, although you were secretly happy that he wasn’t completely ignoring you and running off without saying anything like he did to those girls from the night before. “I have no regrets. It was a good time.” You stood up to gather your things and wait to get off the plan, but noticed he was making no moves. “Are you just going to hang out on the plane?”

“I have to get off last. It’s too much chaos with the fans in the terminal, so I’ll get off later with my team. It gives the other passengers time to get by before the mob of fans and paparazzi obstruct everything.”

“Ah, right,” you said, disbelieving. You wondered if this was just a ploy to separate from you and cover up for the fact that he had been playing at being a celebrity this whole time. “Out of curiosity, what is your name?”

He thought for a moment before answering. “You can just call me Jay.”

“Is that your real name?”

“Nope,” he responded honestly. “Let’s just say that it’s something of a nickname that I’ve been given. It seems the most appropriate way for you to remember me.”

You shrugged your shoulders and decided to not break the illusion. “Well, Jay, thanks for everything.” You gave him a small wave good-bye before stepping into the aisle with the rest of the exiting passengers and left him behind forever.

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

Mini-Epilogue:

You walked down the wide concourse, pulling your luggage behind you. You were largely unaware of your surroundings since you attention was on your phone, trying to text your friends that you had landed and make plans for seeing them later in the evening. You had already been practicing in your head how you would tell them about your adventurous flight and the mystery man who made it so memorable.

Behind you, you could suddenly hear a loud commotion. Girls cheering and yelling, the rushing of feet. You turned to see what was going on and could see the flashing of cameras as a crush of people moved towards the exits. You strained to see who was at the center of all the excitement.

“Do you know what’s going on?” you asked an older man standing next to you who was also watching the crowd pass by.

“It’s one of those idol boys. The girls go nuts for them. I saw one of the girls carrying a sign saying ‘Welcome back J-Hope’. What kind of name is J-Hope anyway? It sounds weird if you ask me.”

“I’ve never heard of him. He must not be too famous.”

“Exactly. These girls should all be in school and not following around some no name nobody.” The man threw his hands up in disgust before walking off.

You turned to go your own way, but a thought nagged at you. You tapped the name J-Hope into your phone and smiled at the results. The story you would tell your friends just got a bit more interesting.

#BTS smut #Hoseok smut #J-Hope smut #BTS fic #Hoseok fic

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inkwell1013 · 3 years

Text

Birds of a Feather

Pairing: Futaba & Yusuke (platonic)

Genre: Fluff and Angst, Oneshot

Inspired by: The fic Lasting Impressions by @codenamegeek. I lowkey stole the idea of Yusuke and Futaba watching anime together and angst happening but took it in a slightly different direction.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Flashbacks, references to child abuse and disordered eating habits/unspecified eating disorders.

Summary: Futaba and Yusuke spend the night watching anime together, but Futaba makes a horrible mistake that effects Yusuke more than either of them expected and has to deal with the consequences.

Notes: This fic includes my hc about the Autism Squad (TM), which consists of Ren, Futaba, Yusuke and Makoto.

- - -

If you were to ask Futaba and Yusuke what they liked about each other, they wouldn’t be able to give you a real answer. On first appearances, they were as different as two people could be, but they shared a sense of kinship regardless.

The cumulation of their friendship was their weekly hang out sessions, where Futaba binged anime and ate snacks full of empty calories and Yusuke sketched quietly. They were both doing their own things, but at least they were doing it together.

“What do you wanna watch Inari?” asked Futaba, fetching another bag of snacks from the cupboard. Sojiro always kept little stashes of food around Le Blanc and their home. It made Futaba feel secure, knowing that the food kept there would always be available. She wouldn’t go hungry here.

“Can we watch Neo Featherman?” said Yusuke, pencil still in motion. “I find the actions scenes quite inspiring for anatomy practice.”

“Sure.” Futaba switched on the television and loaded the show. The familiar jingle burst from the speaker and Yusuke absentmindedly hummed along with the music. The title card flashed on screen: Death of a Condor.

“Wait, what’s going on?” he asked, looking up from his drawing. “Is Black Condor dead? I thought the feather of destiny made him invincible?”

“It does, but it was stolen by Purple Squirrel in episode eight,” explained Futaba. “Weren’t you paying attention?”

“Not really. I just watch it for the fight scenes.”

“And the cute boys.”

Yusuke blushed bright red. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Futaba giggled, throwing a bag of crisps at Yusuke, which smacked him square in the forehead. “Here,” she said. “Don’t forget to eat. You know what you’re like.”

“I was going to eat eventually,” he grumbled.

“Sure you were,” said Futaba, rolling her eyes. “Just remember to, okay? Sojiro will kill me if you collapse on the way home again.”

Yusuke nodded, his tongue still stuck out in concentration, as the pencil in his hand danced over the page. Futaba span back around in her chair. She was secretly pleased when she heard the sound of the bag being torn open, followed by a crunch.

What an achievement! She had gotten the starving artist to eat. The only other people who had succeeded at that herculean task were Sojiro and Ren.

She didn’t say anything though. Making a big deal about it would only upset him and he had a hard enough relationship with food as it was. Futaba was content to let him eat at his own pace and return to her show.

***

Futaba was furious. They couldn’t just wave away Black Condor’s death by bringing him back to life with Green Parakeet’s powers. Not only did it ruin the climax of the season, but it also made no sense lore wise. If Green Parakeet could bring people back to life, why didn’t she do that to save her lover in episode three? Futaba was going to write a deeply passionate blog post about it later that night.

“So… next episode?” she asked, spinning around in her chair.

Yusuke paused his sketching and nodded. “Just give me a moment,” he said. “I need to use the bathroom.” He stood up, leaving his sketchbook on Ren’s bed.

Once Yusuke’s footsteps had faded and she knew that he was gone, Futaba took a peek at Yusuke’s sketchbook. She couldn’t quell her curiosity, and who knew when she’d have this opportunity again. Yusuke was notoriously protective of his sketchbook – practically growling at anyone who so much as touched it.

The book was open at a sketch of a woman, done in careful, painstaking detail. Even with all the work Yusuke had put into it that evening, the piece still wasn’t quite finished. The woman was beautiful, with long dark hair and slender features. She looked like Yusuke; Futaba realised.

She turned the page, only to see another sketch of the same woman. Upon first glance, it looked identical to the previous sketch, but upon closer inspection she noticed a few slight differences. The nose and eyes were a different shape, and her hair seemed a deeper black.

There was another sketch on the next page. And the next. And the next. And the one after that. Each one was slightly different but still recognisable as the same person.

The door slammed open, and Futaba involuntarily jumped, tearing the fragile page in half.

“Futaba!” snapped Yusuke. “What the hell are you doing? You know you’re not supposed to touch that.”

His eyes fell upon the torn page and his mouth twitched halfway into a frown. Futaba dropped the sketchbook, which landed on the bed, with a thud.

“Inari I—"

Yusuke stared down at the ground, not wanting Futaba to see his expression. “Get out,” he said.

He couldn’t lose his temper with her. Not with Futaba, the girl who cried if people raised their voice at her, who jumped at every slam of the door, who was terrified of strangers, all because she had been hurt by someone who was supposed to love her, just like Yusuke had.

They were birds of a feather in that respect. They were two helpless fledglings who had been beaten and thrown from their nest before they were ready, doomed to suffer at the hand of fate.

He refused to do that to another person.

He refused to repeat history.

“I’m sorry,” mumbled Futaba.

“Please go. I need... I need you to go.” His voice broke, as he was barely holding back his angry tears. “I can’t… I don’t want to let myself be mad at you. Please, just give me some time alone.”

“Yusuke…”

“Please Futaba,” implored Yusuke. “Don’t force yourself to be around me while I’m like this.”

Futaba gave him one final worried look before slinking out the room, shutting the door behind her.

***

Futaba knocked on the door again fifteen minutes later, holding a plate of curry in her hands. After she had explained the situation, Sojiro served up a portion and told her to give it to Yusuke as a peace offering.

“Inari!” she called. “I come bearing gifts of curry.”

She received no response, and for a moment considered leaving the plate at the door for Yusuke to collect later. Then, the door slowly creaked open revealing the artist. He had been crying, she could tell. His eyes were bloodshot, and streaks of tears were left on his cheeks. He rubbed at his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Do you want it?” asked Futaba, offering out the curry. “You can say no.”

Yusuke looked a little apprehensive but nodded.

“Can I come in?” she added. Another nod.

They sat down on Ren’s bed, and Yusuke held the plate carefully in his hands, as if he were carrying a gift from a god.

“Are you okay?” asked Futaba. Yusuke set the plate down on his lap.

“I’m sorry,” he signed, hands trembling. “I can’t speak right now.”

Futaba had been teaching Yusuke and the rest of the Phantom Thieves sign language for a little while now. It was useful for giving commands in the metaverse and for when one of the party members went nonverbal, which wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, especially with four autistic party members.

Still, she knew that Yusuke wasn’t very fluent, and it would be difficult to carry a full conversation with him in sign. They would have to find another way to communicate. Then, she had an idea.

“Do you want to text?” she offered. Yusuke nodded, setting the curry on the desk and pulling out his phone. Futaba did the same.

Yusuke: I apologise.

Yusuke: It was wrong of me to snap at you like that.

Futaba glanced up at him, quickly typing in her response.

Futaba: I understand. You were upset.

Three dots hovered in place for a moment, as Yusuke typed.

Yusuke: Being upset is no excuse for how I acted. It was completely out of order.

Yusuke: It’s just hard.

Futaba: Do you want to talk about it?

Yusuke paused for a second.

Yusuke: Yes.

Yusuke: The painting downstairs is my mother. She died when I was young. I can’t quite remember her, no matter how hard I try. Her self-portrait, while beautiful, isn’t objective. No self portrait is.

Yusuke: I’ve been trying to piece her face together from the few bits I can remember but I can never get it right.

Yusuke: When I was younger, I tried to do the same thing, but I was caught.

There was a pause in the conversation and Futaba looked up. Yusuke’s eyes were watering. He looked like he was going to burst into tears all over again.

Yusuke: Madarame tore up every single sketch and burned them all in the fireplace. I cried for hours but he didn’t apologise. He wasn’t even sorry.

Futaba: That’s horrible! You did nothing wrong.

Yusuke: I’m sorry I yelled at you Futaba. I don’t know what came over me. It’s just when I saw that torn page, it was like I was back there again, having all my hard work destroyed.

Futaba: You were scared Yusuke. I understand.

She turned off her phone and fetched the curry from the table. “Here,” she said, passing it to Yusuke. “Crying takes it out of you.”

Yusuke accepted the offering, taking a bite of the curry. Futaba wasn’t sure what to do with herself. She eventually settled on sitting next to Yusuke and placing her hand on top of of his. He gave her a sceptical look, but made no move to pull away, taking another bite.

They were as different as two people could be, but they understood each other and that was enough.

#persona 5 fanfiction #persona 5 angst #yusuke kitagawa #futaba sakura #yusuke kitagawa & futaba sakura #why do I insist on torturing my children like this?#angst #but a little fluffy #inkwell writes

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ddaenghoney · 5 years

Photo

Series: of Silver

Part 23

Attending a performing arts university, you’ve been managing just fine until the fall semester of your third year starts off by making out at a party only to realize the random guy was actually transfer Jeon Jeongguk, whom you had previously agreed to help get used to the city.

Pairing(s):

Jeon Jeongguk x Y/N

Below the cut is a written scene from the story, but you don’t need to read it to follow the plot for the fake texts portions!

masterlist link is in blog description

disclaimer: any character depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Warning(s)/genre(s): College!au, fluff, developing relationship, love triangle(s)??, some angst/drama here and there– Jeongguk has a dog this series isn’t allowed to be too tragic.

Tag(s): @butterflylion @rjsmochii @mahakookie @dammit-jjk @joanc24 @detectivebts @insaisissables @fuzzyballoontrash @sweet-unicorn-world (if you would like to be tagged send me an ask to let me know!)

If you enjoy, let me know!! : )

set after the events of this chapter

wc: 1048

warning(s): none

“I’m so full.” You sighed, lying back into your bed. Jeongguk sat beside you, back against the headboard while he finished off the fries, watching curiously as you curled around the large dog plush that was his, but ended up in your dorm room most often. “Remind me that eating ice cream before everything else isn’t always the best idea whenever I try and do this again.”

“Oh, so it’s definitely happening again then?” He smiled as you turned back to face him, pouting as you admitted quietly,

“I mean, knowing me yeah.” You sat up when he started collecting the trash, joining in the clean-up, “Did I get you enough food? You ended up eating most of my fries.”

“I think if there’s food next to me more likely than not I’ll just eat it.” You laughed at the straight-face statement, taking the bag full of trash in his hands as you slid off the bed beyond where his legs stretched out.

“That’s what happens to me when I have a bag of chips. My weakness.” You dangled the greasy McDonald’s bag, reaching for the doorknob, “I’m gonna toss this, I’ll be right back.”

Jeongguk sat crisscross, taking the giant plush in the meantime while he waited. He bit his lip, quietly wondering what to do, not that you would take long. But he just looked around to kill the time, noting the pairs of shoes haphazardly beside your closet, then the zip-up you usually wore to classes draped over your desk. Considering how busy you were, he was somewhat surprised by the lack of clutter on the desk that pertained to books or schoolwork. Just your laptop folded closed with a notebook left open beside it, and the shelves mostly full of various cosmetics or toiletries. The corkboard had a small planner dangling, but more pictures displayed, one of which was one you’d used his Poloroid to take of him and you.

He smiled at the fact, lessening his grip on the plush while arching his neck to see what the others were of; many of Seokjin and you, one that looked to be of your family, and a couple that you took of places that seemed random to Jeongguk. He presumed they meant something to you. He startled at knocking on the door, followed by your voice calling that you left your key in the room.

“What if you’re breaking and entering?” He asked you while opening the door only enough for his head to peek at you. Your eyes rolled and your arms crossed, contemplating his words,

“Wouldn’t that be you? You’re in my room.”

“You know,” He smiled into a chuckle, gripping on your hand when you reached for his as he properly let you back into the room, “That’s true. By the way, you have that picture of us on your desk?” Jeongguk bit his lip in endearment as you tensed, your lips tightening into a flustered line.

“Well, yeah.” You pushed him back towards your bed before he could start teasing, “It’s cute, I like it. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I like it too.” Jeongguk’s voice rang contently, dragging you with him as he fell onto the mattress, hugging you against him as you wriggled around, “But I need to take another so I have one too, baby.”

He let you adjust on his chest, relaxing into your hand as you began running it through his hair. Quiet as he watched you think, noticing the lingering flush on the apples of your cheeks, but also the gentle smile while you looked down at him. “You feeling a little better, babe?”

“Yeah, Jeonggukie.” You nodded, while his hands repositioned to a soft grip on your waist. “You helped me. Thank you.”

“I didn’t do much,” He mumbled humbly, bashful at the prospect considering the two of you just ate food while you ranted and he cut in to say some affirmative comments. You smiled at the aversion of his gaze, trailing your hand from his head to cup his cheek. He looked back at you barely catching the smallest hesitation in your expression before you leaned to press your lips gently against his forehead.

“No, you did a lot.” You tried hard to ignore the awe that seemed to reflect in his eyes when you pulled back, but you had the feeling the heat traveling up your neck was giving itself away in your expression. “I mean it. I’m glad I have you.”

Jeongguk felt his chest swell from the unexpected gesture. The hands holding your waist squeezed a little, still taken aback, but happy from the action. He considered the difference in now as he held you peacefully versus the first time he’d met you and the two of you ended up in a mess of drunken kissing that he still couldn’t believe happened. Even though in that sense, the two of you had gone quite far, it was in an impersonal respect, vastly different from the implication the gentleness his voice held when he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Your eyes gave him the surprise of the question, your mouth opening to answer but then pausing. Jeongguk nearly added that you didn’t have to say yes, but somehow he was quiet, settled in the knowledge that you knew you could tell him no, that you didn’t have to do anything against what you wanted. His thumbs rubbed tiny patterns on your waist, when he waited for the answer even though he knew it hadn’t been but a second since the question was asked before he watched your head very softly nod, then a sincere but tiny mumble, “Yeah.”

Jeongguk held you, doing more to lean upwards to meet you than making you move towards him. Finding your lips eyes shut, you relaxed at the contact. Your hand fell from his cheek to stray towards the back of his neck, while his arms properly wrapped around you, gentle like protection. The proximity felt warm, slow, like every passing moment was meant for him to be content in the kiss. Uninterrupted by imposing thoughts, just a meaningful action of intimacy, that was incomparable to what he remembered from meeting you.

Nothing more different than how much you meant to him in that moment.

#jungkook imagines #jungkook fake texts #jungkook smau #jungkook social media au #jungkook au #jungkook fluff #jungkook series #bts imagines #bts fake texts #bts smau #bts social media au #bts au #bts fluff #bts series #all #series of silver

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hellishvu · 5 years

Text

The Favorite Witch

I am really feeding the gays and everyone in between this pride month !! have this story i wrote 2 months ago!! happy pride once again!! <33

— Where you are opened to find a new roommate so you move into a dorm with a well known witch named Seokjin.

"Namjoon you know how many people have left?! I could be brewing my potions and I turn invisible and poof they are gone!" Seokjin mumbled as he showed Namjoon pictures of his new potions that he had spent weeks making.

"Seokjin, imagine seeing your roommate a wizard, it's a bit iffy. You know the reputation you guys tend to have." Namjoon says as Seokjin typed at his computer making posters of roommates.

"Roommate neeeded, BEWARE: I am a witch, no I will not kill you. Call me:"

It has been days since he put that poster up and he hasn't gotten a single call back, Seokjin was wearing his lucky necklace everyday hoping it would bring some type of luck. Seokjin has quiet a look to him, it wasn't like the normal trends he liked being his own person. I guess that is what you learn quickly being a witch.

Seokjin was laying on his couch seeing his bills start to stack up, Seokjin was eating his potato chips as his phone rang from a text alert. At first Seokjin ignored it thinking it was a teacher sending a reminder but his phone rang more than once making Seokjin more curious. Seokjin grabbed his phone and saw the text messages of an unknown number.

Seokjin giggled to himself as he had finally found a roommate, kissing his lucky necklace he got up and started to clean his apartment. Seokjin opened a potion letting the dust and the particles flying around. Seokjin went to his snake friend that he bought during the beginning of fall. Seokjin smiled at her, she rose up from the potion and started to clean the house. Seokjin stretched as he grabbed the broom cleaning.

You knocked on the door hearing music playing, you looked at the address the little card that was on the poster. You unplugged your headphones as you saw the door open. You smiled at the male standing before you. You both shared a handshake as the male introduced himself as Seokjin. Seokjin let you in as you looked around, you saw the snake's little house in the living room. You looked in the kitchen and saw herbs and mushrooms and many more vegetables. Seokjin patiently waited as you looked at the size of your room.

"It's a good size." You thought as Seokjin explained how the apartments run and how they have certain rules. Seokjin looked behind him to see his snakes and his potions had been opened. Seokjin widen his eyes as the potions released magic. You turned around and saw fairies and a black cat began to talk.

"... You weren't kidding when you said you were a witch." You said as you saw the black cat peek from the door.

"He's the new guy? As long as he feeds me treats I don't mind him, I guess." The black cat says as you widen your eyes,

"Yoongi!" Seokjin yelled at Yoongi the black cat that he's had since high school. The cat always felt like a human to Seokjin so he spent months creating a potion so that he could talk.

Now for you, you knew that witches can do potions and cause strange things to happen that are unspoken of but if someone had told you that their cat talks... now that's something else.

"What? If he's gonna live with you. He's gonna have to deal with me!" Yoongi walks up to your leg, twirling around it. You pet his head feeling his soft fur. The cute little purr that he makes.

"Yeah sorry.. about all this. I know this could be a nuisance to deal with. So don't feel bad for saying no, I completely understand." Seokjin says as he grabs Yoongi petting him in his arms. You looked at him, giving him a smile.

"I'll take it Seokjin. This isn't a nuisance, it's pretty magical." You said as Seokjin eyes glowed.

"Look you got the witch happy." Yoongi said as he rubbed his head against Seokjin's chest. You snickered as you followed Seokjin out of the room to sign the papers.

"So when do you think you will move in?" Seokjin asks as you started to make some phone calls to your recent apartment. Asking your friends for help since it's early morning.

"I can today? I got finals coming soon and I rather deal with moving as soon as possible." You smiled as Seokjin nodded. You shook hands as he helped you pack in, having his little fairies help him also.

"So you're Y/N right?" One of the fairies asked as you nodded seeing the little fairies giggle.

"You seem just like Seokjin's type." The purple fairy said as she flew around you and around Seokjin making a heart.

"Okay! Let's not talk about my types." Seokjin had a deep shade of blush as he took the textbooks of many college classes.

You two moved in together, as months went by you two grew close. The way Seokjin would proudly show his mixes of magic and potions. You were there for him, a lot of the time when he had a bad day or he couldn't get that one potion right you would be there to help clear his mind. Providing take out as you two watch movies till you pass out.

The thing was that Seokjin had hellish nightmares... that kept him from sleeping at night. The sudden wake at night in a cold sweat, screaming as he looks around his dark room to see Yoongi sleeping on his lap. Seokjin didn't have to worry about it due to him living alone but now? He had you and if you couldn't sleep because of him waking up, he thought you would move out.

Seokjin spent the next couple of weeks to month creating a potion to make him fall asleep and dream no more. He had a constant portion of it for every night and if he had a routine of drinking it but when finals came around he found himself exhausted. Trying to keep his research and the mountains of work to keep under control was a pain.

You walked in your apartment door seeing Seokjin asleep on his book for a lecture that he'll probably forget in the next 10 years. You snickered as you slowly very carefully carried him to his bedroom. He clung to you like a child with a teddy bear, you set him down and covered him with blankets. You walked back to your room reading the notes you took in class to be prepared for the test you had next week.

You heard screams and someone trying to get air into their lungs. You jumped up as your heart raced to get to the source of the noise. You opened the door with such force it blew air. You saw Seokjin covering his face, sweat and his hair sticking to his forehead. You saw the rise of his back rapidly as he breathed quickly. You walked near him and sat on the side of his bed.

"Seokjin. What were you dreaming about? You were yelling." You asked with such concern in your voice that itself made Seokjin feel guilty. You held his hand giving him a sense of comfort.

"I've always had nightmares. I created a potion but I must've forget it. I don't even know when's the last time I've had a good night sleep." Seokjin said holding his own tears in. You felt him hold your hand tighter.

"Seokjin don't worry I will be here. Maybe because it's finals? You're stressed when you go to bed which causes nightmares.. I could help you relax!" You sent a gentle smile as your voice was soft. Seokjin snickered as he looked up with the smiling face.

"Just cuddle me to sleep." Seokjin admits as you nodded as you two laid down, it was obvious to anyone that could see that you and Seokjin had something. A special connection, you saw him as a talented person with his potions.

"Does this mean we are just cuddle buddies or something more?" You raised an eyebrow as Seokjin laughed.

"Shut up."

#bts x male reader #kpop x male reader #bts #bts jin #bts seokjin #fluff

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ialwayscomewhenyoucall · 5 years

Text

Candy Hearts

ten x rose

***

“Doctor, what’s the date? In my timeline, I mean.”

The Doctor tilts his head, considering. “Mid-autumn. November 9. Almost November 10. Why?”

“No reason.” Rose peeks at something in her hand, gives it a confused look, then leaves the console room without another word.

Rose is reading in the library when the Doctor finds her. “What’re you up to this fine day?”

She holds up her book, rolling her eyes just a bit.

“Ah,” he says. “A book. Reading a book. Reading is good.” He sits next to her on the sofa, but before he truly settles he’s up again, pacing.

“Are you up for a bit of a ramble? I’ve found us a good place. A park. A place to park and ramble. A ramble in a park.”

Rose puts her book down. Obviously the Doctor is not going to let her have any quiet time today.

“Of course, Doctor,” she says, somehow managing to hold back her sigh. “Just let me find my boots and we can be off. Do I need a jacket?”

“Oh no, lovely weather. Brilliant. Sparkly day. Allons-y!”

Just about to stand, Rose pauses. Seeing something on the table in front of her she scoops it up and shoves it into her pocket. She eyes the Doctor suspiciously. “Doctor, have you been…”

He looks at her with wide, innocent eyes.

She shakes her head. “Never mind.”

A few hours later they’re parked on an alien planet, walking through a pink and purple forest. “The leaves on the trees don’t actually take their energy from the sun, nothing like photosynthesis. They’re carnivorous! But don’t worry, they won’t eat you. They get their nutrients from below ground. Their roots capture insects and small animals and--” he makes a slurping noise, making Rose both shudder and laugh. “So that’s why the trees have pink leaves and purple bark. No chlorophyll. Just iron and carbon and nitrogen...from blood.” He grins, as though that’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever said.

Rose changes the subject.

“Doctor, does the TARDIS ever…” She pushes her hand into her pocket, as if checking to see if something is there, then continues. “Does she ever, well, malfunction?”

The Doctor looks alarmed. “Rose, are you hurt? Did something go wrong?”

Rose jumps at his fervent response. “No! It’s nothing like that. Just something...strange.”

Visibly calmer, he says, “Well, she does sometimes do odd things. Maybe that’s where I get it from.”

Rose rolls her eyes. “Right. You got it from her.”

“So…” says the Doctor, an expectant tone in his voice. He looks at her with a look she knows, the look that says Let’s solve a mystery!

“I’m gonna puzzle this one out on my own, I think. For now, at least. I’ll let you know if I need any help.”

His face falls.

She giggles, then takes his hand. “Doctor, you look like I just stole your puppy.”

“I don’t have a puppy. But you’re stealing my fun.”

“You’d think you’d eventually grow out of pouting, but apparently not.”

Affronted, he brushes imaginary dust off the front of his coat and says, “I’m quite mature. The tip-top of maturity.”

“This from the man who started a water fight in the galley yesterday,” Rose says drily.

The Doctor sighs, a drawn out and overly dramatic sigh. “You just don’t appreciate my sense of humor.”

“It’s a question of who,” Rose says aloud. She’s not sure if she’s speaking to herself, her empty bedroom, or the candy hearts she’s lined up on the edge of her vanity.

She’s been finding them all over the TARDIS for days; by her mug of tea in the galley, beside her book in the library, on the toe of her boot in the console room.

They’d started out ordinary and sweet, making her smile.

CUTIE

YOU ROCK

SWEET PEA

SUNSHINE

HUG ME

Then she’d found a few that had sayings she’d never seen before on a candy heart. These were more puzzling, though they still made her day.

U STOLE MY ❤️❤️

LOVELY HUMAN

LET’S FLY AWAY

RUN!

That last she’d taken as a reminder of their first meeting, not as the warning it would have seemed to anyone else.

But then…

I’M YOURS

XOXO

HUGS AND KISSES

KISS ME

It’s the last six she’s staring at now.

“It’s a question of who,” she says again, more firmly this time. “Because if it’s the TARDIS having a laugh, trying to start something…” The certainty fades from her voice. She’s been in love with the Doctor for ages, pretty much from the beginning. And most days she’s almost positive he feels the same way about her. But there’s times he’s just so...well...alien. And it’s those times she can’t figure him out.

So if it’s the TARDIS trying to push them together and she plays along, she could end up with something wonderful. Or she could end up pushing him away.

But if it’s the Doctor, and he loves her too…

Her heart nearly bursts at the thought.

The Doctor bursts into the galley, wild-eyed and frantic. “Rose! The TARDIS said you needed me! She said to run!”

Covering her mouth with a hand to keep her grin from showing, Rose says, “I’m fine, Doctor, nothing’s wrong. I asked her to send you. I also told her it wasn’t an emergency. Naughty ship,” she scolds, unconvincingly.

“Oh,” he says, visibly relaxing. Then, “Ooo! A biscuit!”

It’s on the counter just in front of him, a heart-shaped biscuit with yellow icing. The pink letters on it say, “SMILE.”

“Brilliant!” he says. He’s just about to pick it up when he sees something that stops him, hand paused just shy of the cookie. Giving her a confused smile he glances across at the opposite counter then back at her and says, “Another one?”

Rose only smiles mysteriously and and settles onto a nearby stool.

The Doctor claps his hands. “Do you mean it’s a treasure hunt?” His words, his posture, his face--everything about him is full of glee.

She wants to just gesture at the room and see what he does, but she can’t help herself, she giggles. “Yes, Doctor, it’s a treasure hunt. Find the biscuits.”

And just like that he’s everywhere at once, opening cupboard doors, peeking into canisters, crawling around on the floor. As if she’d hide biscuits on the floor, she knows every single one will end up in his mouth. But she lets him get on with it; his front half is completely under the table now and his bum is sticking out. It’s not a bad view. She giggles again.

Soon the counter is lined with a rainbow of hearts:

TOO CUTE

GREAT HAIR

LET’S HOLD HANDS

YOU HAD ME AT RUN

BETTER WITH TWO

ADVENTURE AWAITS

TO THE STARS

FOREVER

BE MINE

But he hasn’t found it yet, the one that’s got her all jittery inside.

The biscuit itself is unremarkable, a blue heart that says “TWO IN THE TARDIS,” hidden in the oven on a small white plate. But poking out from underneath the biscuit is a folded piece of paper.

And then his frenetic motion stops, and she thinks she has never seen him so still. His back is to her, but she doesn’t need to be a mind reader to know he’s holding her note. She bites her lip and goes still herself, waiting.

Doctor, I think you already know--I think you’ve always known--I’m yours if you’ll have me. I’ve promised you forever, and I meant it, but I’m hoping our forever can be...more. I love you, Doctor. Can you love me too?

Suddenly the Doctor is standing in front of her, eyes searching hers even more intently than he’d been searching the galley only minutes before. He tucks a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, and at his touch she lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“Doctor?” The single word asks every question she’s been holding in since the day he first took her hand in his own.

“Yes,” he answers, and her heart leaps.

“May I--” His voice cracks; he clears his throat and tries again. “May I kiss you, Rose Tyler?”

Her own mouth suddenly dry, she somehow manages to whisper, “Yeah.” Then, under her breath she adds, “She certainly to me me to kiss you enough times.”

Startled, he pulls back. “Who?”

“The TARDIS. She was meddlin’, I guess. Tryin’ to push us together.” Pulling a handful of the candy hearts out of her pocket she shows them to the Doctor. “I’ve been findin’ these all over for about a week now.”

A flush creeps up the back of the Doctor’s neck. “Ah. Well. About that…” He runs his fingers through his hair.

The candy hearts fall to the floor. “That was you?”

He thrusts his hands into his pockets, shrugs, then ruffles his hair again. “You know me. The game’s afoot.” He grins, and she can’t help but grin back.

“Maybe we should just...talk,” Rose says, taking a step closer.

“Maybe,” the Doctor says, closing the gap between them even more. “But, ah, maybe...later?” His voice is hoarse, and hopeful.

She looks up at him through her lashes, suddenly breathless at his sudden closeness. “I think the talking portion of our day can wait. Just a bit.”

Their lips are only a breath apart when Rose says, “Just one question, Doctor.” Her eyes are dancing.

“Yes, Rose Tyler?”

“Will you be my Valentine?”

They laugh, foreheads pressed together. “Forever,” he says, smiling. She turns her face upward again, and when his lips find hers she begins to learn what forever truly means.

***

tagging @doctorroseprompts ...I started this around Valentine’s Day, when there were candy hearts prompts. It’s a little late...but *technically* it’s not a Valentine’s Day fic. Right? ;)

#lirael writes #doctorroseprompts #ten x rose #candy hearts #angst and fluff #meddling tardis #or is it?#it's a mystery!#this was so fun to write #rose tyler #the tenth doctor #dw fic

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idreamof-music · 5 years

Text

Grad Night is for Lovers

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Slight one-sided angst and tons of terrible writing!

Prompt: “Hey Cutie”

Summary: Alcohol is just liquid courage and Katherine needs that courage to face Peter Parker. Grad night is the best time for last chance confessions.

A/N: This was written for @hillsnholland’s birthday writing challenge. This is my first writing piece EVER so please prepare for tons of terrible writing. Constructive criticism is completely welcomed.

“Katherine, you need to put that book down and live a little.”I looked up from the novel in my lap, meeting MJ’s stare with my uninterested eyes. Rolling them, I put my book in the bag next to me and stood up. “Says the girl who can’t seem to put her books down long enough to socialize during lunch. I didn’t even want to come to this party, MJ. All I see are a bunch of drunk eighteen-year-olds sucking face with one another. That’s fun? That’s living?”

“Dude, we just graduated. We deserve to let loose a little.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes right back at me, handing me a plastic cup.

Scoffing, I peered into the red Solo cup, a subtle coconut scent hitting my nostrils. Deciding she had a point; I took a large sip. We all literally just graduated earlier in the day and most of us would be leaving for college over the summer, some further away than others. It was our chance to be young and dumb before we were thrown into what I assumed would be hell compared to high school. After four years of being a good child, keeping textbooks practically glued to my face and busting my ass at after-school jobs to save up for college, I sure as hell deserved this. With that thought in mind, I downed the drink in my hand and followed MJ to find something a bit stronger.

A couple hours and a few drinks later, MJ and I had found ourselves sitting next to a pool out back, giggling at the cringey couples “dancing” inside. My eyes shifted to a pair of boys exiting the house and making their way through the yard. Brown hair, brown eyes, and a signature science pun tee caught my eye. Naturally, MJ had noticed my silence and craned her neck to find what was currently holding my attention.

Peter Parker was probably the only guy at school to have piqued my interest. We shared a majority of our classes. He was also MJ’s best friend, or at least male best friend, which meant he was around a lot. Peter was always so clueless, but constantly happy which was the complete opposite of who I was, and it honestly got under my skin. At first. At some point in our friendship, my irritation turned into a fascination with the boy.

“So…You gonna make a move on Parker before he goes off to MIT?” MJ shakes my shoulder as I laugh at her.

“It’s three hours away, that’s barely considered “going off to,” I reminded her. She mumbled a whatever and I sighed. “You really think I should? She nodded frantically, grinning ear to ear. I brushed my hair over my shoulder before getting onto slightly unbalanced feet and fixing my skirt. “Ok, how do I look?”

“Hot. You look hot. Now go get him, tiger!” She cheered me on as I shakily made my way to Peter, who was seated near Ned on a lawn swing, animatedly talking.

I watched his hands fly around the air as he talked, a smile gracing the edges of his lips. It was cute, that boyish charm of his. That charm was what ended up being the metaphorical nail in the coffin for my crush on him. My heart skipped a beat as I got closer to them, the quickly fading alcohol in my system is the only courage keeping me going.

“Hey, cutie! Can I sit here?” I motioned to the open spot next to Peter. He snapped his head up and upon recognizing me, smiled.

“Yeah, um, just let me move a little.” Before he could move closer to Ned, the boy stood up, quickly shuffling his body away from the swing.

“Don’t worry about it, I think I saw MJ waving at me. I’m gonna go talk to her a bit. Catch up with you guys later!” With that, Ned bounded off in search of MJ, leaving a disgruntled Peter and a confused look on my face.

I sat down in the now empty seat that Ned had previously been sat in and pulled on the sleeves of my sweater. A small, shy peek over at Peter proved he was just as nervous as I was. Kicking my feet at the ground, I sighed. “How is Aunt May doing? It’s been a while since I’ve been over.” Peter shot me a smile, breaking the ice between us, ice that had never been there before.

“She’s good. Ya know, same old Aunt May. With me leaving soon, she’s been pretty mopey.” That last part held sadness to it, just a slight bit.

“You’ll only be a few hours away though. I’m sure you’ll visit whenever you can, right? I mean, I’ll be in town still and can keep her company. It’s not the same as if you were to visit her, I’m sure...” I took a deep breath at the end of my rambling, looking at Peter through the bangs that had fallen in my face.

He smiled at me, a smile that made my heart melt. “I think she’d like that. She’s always bugging me about when you’re coming over next.” A blush formed across my cheeks at that. “Of course, I plan to visit as much as I can. She would literally kill me if I didn’t. We laughed together at that accurate statement.

Aunt May was not one to cross. She had proved that when she caught me sneaking out of Peter’s room after a late-night movie marathon back in sophomore year. It was a school night, and with all that Peter had going on, she had strict rules about friends staying over during the weeknights. That rule had been broken many times by the two of us, but that was the first time we had been caught. Definitely not the last time though.

“Are you excited for NYU?” I looked over at Peter and gave a small shrug.

“Yeah, I guess so. Mom is still pissed I’m not choosing something science related that can make “big bucks”. Dad is on board though, but I don’t know. I worry too much about what she thinks of me.” I wrung my hands together in my lap, looking down at the cracked polish on my nails.

“You decided to go the writing route, right?” I nodded and kicked my feet a little. “I think that’s a cool thing to do. Your mom will probably come around once she sees how happy it makes you. Don’t worry too much,” he reassured me. I mumbled thanks, shooting him a small smile before letting it grow silent between us.

I leaned my head back against the swing, closing my eyes and listening to the party still in full swing around us. The chill air hitting my face cooled the heat in my cheeks from our close proximity. At this point, any alcohol that was in my system had faded. Here I was, sitting on a lawn swing with Peter Parker, the guy I had fallen for. All the times we had been alone in the past never felt like this. There was a new electrical charge in the air between us.

A warm hand on my knee jolted me from my thoughts. Whipping my head to the side, a pair of wide, brown eyes met my hazel ones. When had Peter gotten so close? I blinked a few times and smiled at him. “Have I ever told you how adorable you are?” Well, there went the filter on my mouth.

Peter chuckled, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think you have. It’s not too late though,” he playfully whispered, leaning closer to me.

In mock shock, I slapped a hand to my chest and gaped at him. “Peter Parker, are you flirting with me?” A grin spread across his face, cheeks turning a rosy shade that accentuated the freckles across them. A shrug of his shoulders and he had turned his attention to the hand still on my lap.

I watched as wheels seemed to be turning in his head, his thumb rubbing circles into the fabric of the socks covering my knee. Oh, how I wished I could have seen or heard what was going on in there. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, something that happened when he was nervous or thinking. The sweet innocence he had was just the icing to the cake. A man normally wouldn’t be called beautiful, but when it comes to Peter, that just goes right out the window.

“Peter?” I whispered. I was almost hoping that he couldn’t hear me over the music that was playing, but he did. He lifted his head, brown eyes searching my face. There was a softness to them that I swear I had seen before. Before I lost all confidence, I made my move. Smacking my lips into his, I nearly knocked the boy off the swing.

Strong arms wrapped around my waist, steadying me before I could completely fall on him. His lips were still beneath my mine and I had faintly heard the squeak of surprise slip past them. The lack of positive reaction caused a million negative thoughts to run through my mind, each one filled with regret. How could I have been so stupid to misread him like that? Sure, we had flirted a ton throughout the years, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was into me.

As I started to pull away Peter sprung into action. His arms tightened around me and his lips parted sucking my bottom lip into his mouth. I couldn’t hold back the gasp that left my throat. And that was all it took for me to throw myself into him and this kiss. Our lips melted together into a perfect rhythm, nipping gently at each other’s lips, and hands finding their places in each other’s hair or wrapped around someone’s neck. This was it. This had to be what heaven felt like.

After what felt like ages, yelling from across the yard broke us apart. Both of us looked around out of breath, trying to find the yelling, only to spot MJ and Ned by the back door. The excitement written on their faces said they had watched a good portion of what just went down. “About time, you dorks!” MJ yelled at us. I flipped her off, laughing and shaking my head. When I turned to look at Peter, he was smiling, nose and cheeks pink from our kissing. I placed my hand on his neck and pressed a sweet kiss onto his cheek.

“You’ll be visiting me at MIT when I leave, right?” He asked nervously. That pure look on his face made me smile.

“Of course, I will, Peter. You’re not getting rid of me now.” I pulled him towards me by the fabric of his shirt, picking up where we left off, our lips meeting much slower this time.

This was never how I imagined grad night to go. It was a million times better than expected. With Peter’s lips on mine and his arms around me, I felt safe. The world couldn’t touch us. Our summer was bound to be just as amazing as tonight was. The future seemed optimistic despite the setbacks we had over our years of friendship. I couldn’t wait to see what was in store for us.

#t&t birthday wc

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bffhreprise · 5 years

Text

Entry 282

Madeleine, Cosette's character in Ancient Tribes of Earth, always struck me as adorable. She was a blonde, halfling vampire dressed in the most stereotypical Gothic Lolita dress that I could make, complete with mithral crosses adorning it. I would have used silver but vampires in the game were weakened by it.

We were exploring again. Regularly being free at this time of night, both of us enjoyed small adventures together. Since neither of us were geared toward fighting monsters, we specialized in collection quests, using stealth rather than force to accomplish our goals.

Feeling my kitten nuzzle me, I gently rubbed her head. She was growing slower than typical for a cat, and I wasn't sure why, though I guessed that Aaliyah had done something. I wouldn't complain, certain that I was going to live for many, many years. "D-Don't worry, Pufflewink, y-you are an imp-portant part of our c-crew as well!" I assured my kitten.

Catching movement in the corner of my eye, I looked up and wished that I could be using my own eyes within the game. A meteor seemed to be falling. Outside the game, I would be able to make out the tiniest details as it fell, allowing me to guess at what I was seeing, but the possible materials in real life were very limited compared with the vast possibilities within the game. Of course, I’d be able to grab it and return home in under a second outside of the game.

"What are you… Oh. That's pretty." commented Cosette as she caught sight of the meteor as well.

I started to tell her why I needed it as we watched. My mind had exploded into action, with each tiny fragment being a separate train of thought. I knew every last possible material that could be acquired from meteorites as listed in the guild library; many of them were precious. I needed this.

As part of my mind considered what could be made from this treasure, another part had already considered multiple possibilities for how to collect this. Going by the trajectory, we would be heading into dangerous territory. With help being needed, I had considered who to enlist, eventually crossing off those who were sleeping.

Thoughts of speaking with others always created a small subdivision of my mind dedicated to anxiety. Thousands of versions of me acted through scenarios for asking help from each individual, but those were quickly crossed out along with the targets of my pleas. Countless terrible possibilities played out. Luckily, a single group of scenarios regarding James and Pufflewink were becoming more and more enjoyable to consider.

Looking down at my adorable kitten, I explained to her the mission I expected her to complete. Cosette giggled at parts, but she surely was aware that some of what I said was getting through to my kitten. Cosette was incredibly observant compared to most, but even she couldn't understand Pufflewink's replies. Who could blame her, when cats didn't even have a language? I wasn't entirely certain how I understood either, but I always did, even more easily than my mom had. Another section of my mind visited the room I kept for Mom, filled with our memories together.

Watching Pufflewink hop down from my lap, Cosette asked "Do you think she'll make it?"

I nodded. "She's sm-smart. Let's g-get our… g-gear. T-Time's short. No n-need for b-bonus?"

Grinning, Cosette said, "As you wish, but what do we do if James declines?"

My mind refused to consider a possibility where James would turn down such a cute kitten who had journeyed so far to find him. He was far too kind to commit such a barbaric act. "H-He'll… help." I assured her.

"Thank you, Mila." stated Cosettte when a portion of each of our screens changed to display Pufflewink traversing the hall.

I was already guiding Nekopawpaw, my precious character, toward town, confident that Madeleine would be following. We arrived, turned in the quest, grabbed additional gear, and left again before Pufflewink even arrived on the third floor of the mansion. Our view of her vanished the moment she entered his office. Mila was either unwilling or not allowed to show us inside, but she did open the door for my kitten, which was enough for me to hear James' surprise.

“Pufflewink? What are you doing here?” he asked.

I was confident that what I heard next was him petting her. James was a wonderful person. There was the faint flapping of tiny wings, so I was certain the little fairy was in the room as well. Mila didn’t allow bugs to remain inside. With James not saying more, the suspense was killing me, so I went up to take a peek. Thankfully, they were on the move. I returned to my seat before Cosette noticed that I had left.

Mila showed their progress as soon as the group was out of the office, allowing Cosette and me to enjoy the sight of James following a fairy and a kitten through the halls, down three flights of stairs, and toward the kitchen, which was on the way to us. My brave kitten looked so proud when she wasn't attempting to catch the fairy who teased her, hovering just out of reach.

I wished I could know what the conversation between James and his little fairy friend was when he grew distracted, stopping and staring at her. Seconds passed with no movement. Then the fairy did the most adorable thing, sitting on the back of Pufflewink as if my kitten were her mount. James blurred off the camera, but I heard him move in the kitchen. He was back a second later with a floating piece of bacon.

I could hear the bacon cooking where it hovered before the scent even started to reach me. A laser shot from the fairy at the bacon, charring it instantly. Pufflewink was startled by the light, but easily calmed. Fairy power was real, though part of me cried at the thought of burnt bacon.

“Mila, please say you’re recording this.” stated James.

“Of course, Master. Mother, Lady Pendreigh, Cosette, and Raine are already watching.” she replied.

“Tell your mother it’s past her bedtime. Chad wouldn’t approve.” teased James with a charming grin.

“Quite right, Master.” agreed Mila. “Mother wishes for me to inform you that she does what she wants. She hashtagged the response, reiterating that she does what she wants. There are also a very large number of GIFs attached if you wish to view them. Mother will surely complain if you don’t, but I warn you that the substantial sum would even take you a good minute to view in their entirety.”

He laughed, admiring the Princess' response, but I could plainly see that the unburnt section of bacon was finished cooking. Suddenly, the burnt part broke off, floating over to the little fairy, who happily snagged it from the air. My poor kitten obviously wanted some as well, but James surely knew she shouldn't eat any. I had told him before.

As scenarios of James being tricked by the adorable pair into letting my kitten eat some bacon played through my head, I transformed into my cat form.

Mila noticed and said, “Uh oh… Master…”

Unwilling to allow her to get between me and perfectly cooked bacon, I ran to them, took the bacon, and returned to my seat, transforming again as I chewed.

“I should’ve known I was teasing two kittens.” announced James.

Cosette giggled beside me. I shrugged, still savoring the wonderful taste.

The little fairy had taken flight, searching the air for the rest of the bacon. Not seeing it, she flew up within an inch of James' face, staring at him. They were probably communicating telepathically again. Without him saying a word, she flew back down to mount my kitten.

“Mila, where’s Raine?” questioned James.

Pufflewink charged ahead, already aware.

“In the ballroom, Master. Pufflewink knows. She was sent to fetch you.” explained Mila.

“Raine sent Pufflewink to fetch me?” he asked, seeming surprised.

“She speaks cat, Master. You’ve seen it.” replied Mila.

“Well, yes, but why wouldn’t she just ask you to call me or come find me herself?” he questioned, oblivious to how much thought I had put into this quest for my kitten.

“Master, we’re speaking of Raine. You can’t really expect her motivations to be like most.” stated Mila.

I frowned until Mila commented on my screen.

"Sorry, but you are well aware that you are not motivated by the same goals as most people. I, for one, consider that to be a wonderful thing." she wrote.

“Fair point.” stated James before sprinting into the room where we gamed, arriving before my kitten and the fairy had traversed the first hall.

“I-I… I w-wanted Pufflewink t-to h-have an… an adventure.” I explained.

“That’s fine. I was just surprised is all.” he assured me. “So what’s up?”

“Raine and I saw a meteor fall and thought you might help us go check the crash site.” replied Cosette, smiling pleasantly.

“I suppose I can play for a bit. Why are we interested in a meteor?” questioned James as he took his seat, casually flipping over the back to land seated.

“M-materials.” I stated.

Nodding, Cosette said, “According to an old book she found, meteors occasionally bring rare ores to the world. She might be able to make some fancy weapons, armor, or jewelry from it!”

“Quest accepted.” replied James enthusiastically. He really was wonderful.

#Best Friend For Hire Reprise #Best #Friend #For #Hire #Reprise #Jovial Times #Jovial #Times #Fantasy #Fiction #Story

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spicedswordfish · 6 years

Text

Affection

Here’s my gift for the lovely @cardboxman that was for @thearcanasecretsanta ! You had asked for something with Asra or Julian so I thought… why not write a fic that included both of those nerds? Anyways I hope you like it and happy holidays!! Also this is my first fic I haven written in a long time and the first one I wrote for the arcana so I hope the characters and your apprentice isn’t too ooc… Mel was super cute and fun to write with and I honestly got carried away with this fic.

It had been a well known fact that once Mel had begun to concentrate on a task, there was no use tearing them away from it. Even after a long day of running errands at the marketplace, sorting the new herbs, dealing with customers and researching about new magical charms, Mel was still working hard.

They could barely even pull themselves apart from their project at the dinner table. Reading from a old book that was covered in a thin layer of dusk while scribbling notes as they shoved Asra’s home cooked meal into their mouth. Not really bothering to savour each delicious bite like they typically would.

Mel was usually the type to read their lovers like books but was so engrossed in the text they hadn’t notice Asra’s annoyed “ahem” to grasp Mel’s attention. Or Julian’s subtle snort after Asra was blatantly ignored.

After dinner, Mel sat bathed in the light of the sunset at their desk as their lovers sat by the fire conversing. On more then one occasion Julian had gone over to the magicians desk, trying to persuade them to take a break only to retreat back to his spot on the couch with a sigh of defeat.

Even Asra had tried his usual ways to distract the apprentice. Signature behaviour of his that consisted of mostly of being a bit too flirty and a nuisance. Ways that typically worked on Julian but left only Mel unfazed. Leaving Asra to shuffle away and slump back over onto the sofa next to his boyfriend.

Later, once the sun had official set, Mel finally rose from their desk. Only to turn to ask if either of them knew where the matches were. Asra barely looked up from his book but kindly lit the lanterns in the shop along with the few on Mel’s desk with a flick of his wrist. Mel promptly thanked him before returning to their desk once again.

Mel had made multiple comments of joining them "in just a few minutes" but those promises turned into hours then silence after Mel quickly forgot about even mentioning it in the first place.

As the hours ticked by, the candlelight gave the shop a warm comforting glow for the three of them. After Asra was finished preparing a few things for the shop opening the next day, he announced he was heading to bed.

“Don’t work too hard.” He said while pressing a kiss to the top of Mel’s head and draping his arms around their shoulders in once last final attempt to distract them.

It took a moment for Mel to react before the were looking up at Asra and twisting their arm to reach up and run a hand though Asra’s curls.

“Sorry, what was that?” Mel asked.

Asra’s gaze softened, a hint of amusement sparkled in his eyes as he gave a glance back to Julian over his shoulder and shook his head as if something was funny to him.

“Goodnight, you two.” He told them both paired with a yawn and a scratch to his fluffy white hair as he climbed the stairs.

Julian kept Mel company for a short while, reading by the fire place. It was a fact the other was a bit of a night owl and preferred to stay up lost in the pages of a book if it interested him enough. Mel had barely heard him approaching until they felt soft hair brushing against their face and smooth lips grazing against their cheek.

“Don’t stay up to late, my dear.” He whispered, gently pressing his lips to the corner of their mouth.

Mel gave a small yawned and turned their head to capture Julian’s lips in their own. Usually Mel would turn away blushing after making such a bold affectionate action but was either too tired or too engrossed in their work to care. Gestures like that were typically reserved for Asra, surprising either Julian or Mel leaving them both red and speechless.

“I’ll come to bed soon.” Mel promised, a sleepy tone laced in their voice.

Julian gave a soft laugh knowing that if Mel was anything like himself, they would most likely be working away for another hour or so. Not wanting to distract them any longer, he draped one of Asra’s many colourful shawls over Mel’s shoulders to keep them warm and headed for the bedroom.

As Julian predicted, Mel had worked another large portion of time into the night before leaning back into their chair to give their back a break, only then realizing how stiff their body had become from leaning over for most of the evening and well into the night. With the candles practically burned down to the end of their wicks, Mel then noticing how long they must have spent working.

Mel knew their absence would be missed by their lovers in bed so they rose to their feet and stretched. They softy blew out the candles around the shop, leaving thin weaving trails of smoke as they turned their back to their work for the night. Leaving the shop to be covered in the darkness of the night. Only the dim light of the moon shining through the windows to guide Mel up the old wooden stairs. The steps groaned and creaked as they ascended, Mel cringing with each step they took. They prayed that the noise would not stir their sleeping partners upstairs.

Mel tiptoed over to the bed where the others were already fast asleep. There wasn’t much room for them, Mel quickly discovered.

Asra was closest to the wall, sprawled out. His limps lazily thrown over Julians form. His bare foot poked out from the side of the blanket and his white hair shining in the moonlight that peeked threw the curtains. Mel often thought Asra resembled a old spoiled house cat, stretching out in order to get comfortable.

Where as Julian just took up most space all on his own without really meaning to. Mel remembered sharing a bed with him at Mazelinka’s and how his legs hung off the end of bed there as well. Mel had teased him about it the first time he had stayed with the two magicians for the night but quickly regretted it as Julian spiralled into apologizes. It had meant to be a small jest but of Julian mistook it for something else. It had never bothered Mel but ever since they had now often made an effort to express to Julian how his presence was always welcomed in their tiny like shop they called home. Even if he did take up more space then the average person.

I suppose I do deserve this for leaving them waiting… Mel thought tiredly.

Although asleep on their feet and eyelids heavy, the small sliver of mattress still looked somewhat welcoming. Mel sighed and crawled into the small section left for them quietly.

Time pasted and Mel could not fall asleep. They tossed and turned for a while but shortly after getting somewhat comfortable. Final contempt they let out a little sigh and allowed their body to relax. That was until Julian rolled over to face the wall, taking all the blankets with him. Mel opened their eyes once again, huffing in frustration through their nose. The chill of the night was already making goosebumps on their arm as they sat up on elbows.

“Julian…” Mel mumbled under their breath into the darkness as they gave a short but hard tug on the blanket tucked under Julian’s arm.

It didn’t seem like it was going to budge. While Mel didn’t want to disturb their boyfriends sleep, they knew they wouldn’t be getting any if they were freezing all night long. Mel decided that they would try once more before officially giving up. Once again, trying their best not to wake they pulled roughly on the blanket. But it was no use. Even in his sleep, Julian was much stronger then they were.

Mel let out a huff for a second time that night. They glanced around the room hoping to find an extra blanket somewhere. It was hard to see in the dark but there was a long dark piece of cloth hug over the large overstuffed armchair tucked away in the corner of the room where Asra would often sit and read.

They stumbled out of bed and navigated through the dark to examine the item as quietly as they could muster. They felt the material with their hands, the feel unmistakably being Julian’s long black cloak.

I suppose this will have to do Mel thought with a sigh.

They carefully collected the cloak from the chair only to be treated by a familiar reptilian face staring up at them.

“Oh!” Mel gasped, quickly covering their mouth with both hands and shooting a look over their shoulder to see if either of their partners a stirred.

Mel’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Sorry, Faust.” They said, “Mind if join you?”

“Sleepy.” Was her only response to being woken as she slithered her way onto nearby stack of books, curling up once more.

Mel climbed onto the armchair and curled up, craning their neck to fit comfortably onto the plush upholstered armrest. It wasn’t the best but they were to tired to care and it sure beat freezing with little to no space to move around. Pulling Julians cloak over themselves, Mel finally closed their eyes and drifted off to sleep. Falling asleep to the smell of Julian’s cloak that smelled of rain and the armchairs faint scent of Asra’s favourite tea where he could often be found with a cup of it piping hot.

When Mel woke they knew they had slept in well into mid morning. The way the bright sun streamed through the bedroom window was a simple way to tell it was approaching noon.

After rubbing the sleep from their eyes, Mel quickly came to the realization they were back in the bed. Had one of their partners moved them back to the bed during the night without them even realizing it? They suspected it was Julian to be the culprit as it wouldn’t be the first time they had fallen asleep in a strange place only to awake in another in Julians presence.

Another thing Mel noticed was the delicious smell of breakfast. Had they slept in and missed whatever the two of them had made? Hopefully they were thoughtful enough to save them some for when they woke.

A loud crash from the kitchen interrupted their thoughts. The sound was quickly followed by two voices playfully arguing.

Mel stared up at the ceiling listening closely, trying to make out what the two could be saying.

“Shush!” Julian scolded, not being typically quiet himself either.

“Oh you shush, Ilya” Asra retorted.

“It’s like you’re trying to wake them.” Julian sighed.

From what Mel could make out, they continued to tease each other about various things before going back to their disagreements.

“Asra, I’m telling you Mel likes the jam with the mixed berries, not the orange marmalade.”

“Yes, I know that but all I’m saying is that the marmalade would go better with the fresh bread and their tea.”

Mel bit their lip as they laid in bed listening to the pair bicker like an old married couple.

Mel smiled and propped up on their elbows lazily. “What are you two up too?” They called out to their lovers.

Knowing they had been caught, utter silence followed after Mel’s question. Mel couldn’t help but let out a laugh at how goofy they could be sometimes. From the sound of the crash earlier, they had probably broken something and were quickly trying to cover their tracks.

The bed creaked loudly under Mel’s weight as they started to rise. Just as they were about to throw the blanket off themselves. Asra and Julian came through the doorway. Asra first, holding a hot cup of tea with steam rising out of it, followed by Julian holding a large tray with various breakfast foods on it.

Mel’s eyes widened as the tray was set down in front of them. They looked down at the arrangement of foods. There were eggs, bacon, various fruit cut into heart shapes, and paired with two piece of toast, one with marmalade, one with jam.

“W-What’s all this?” Mel asked, looking up at the two of them. Had it been their anniversary or something and they had horrifically forgotten?

Asra took a seat on the edge of the bed and laughed, the look on Mel’s screamed panic and worry. “Don’t worry, there’s no occasion.” Asra said sweetly, “We are simply celebrating you.”

Julian leaned against the headboard close to Mel. He nudged Asra’s knee with his own and gave him a look. “Yes that and we wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize?” Mel echoed, looking back and forth between the two.

Asra cleared their throat before continuing with the explanation. “Faust told us we didn’t leave you much room in the bed last night.”

“Oh.” Mel said, blinking. “Did she not mention the part were Julian stole all the blankets from me?”

Julian began to stutter out a response but the two magicians cut him off with loud laughs, unable to contain their amusement at how he squirmed under Mel’s statement.

“I-I did no such thing!” Julian demanded, his cheeks growing redder.

“Yes, yes you did Jules.” Mel beamed, unable to control the way they smiled or the way they pressed a soft kiss to Julian’s jaw. “You’re forgiven.”

With Asra still snickering Julian rolled his eye and looked away, the embarrassment still very noticeable on his face. It made Mel’s heart swell with joy. Sitting up in bed with their two favourite people on this earth, just… enjoying each other.

“Eat your breakfast, we certainly didn’t spend all morning preparing it just for it to go to waste.” Julian reminded them.

After quickly finishing off most of it while sharing some with their loved ones. Mel relaxed against the pillows, nibbling on the piece of toast.

Julian had mentioned a place he had visited once and was reminded about it in a dream he had the previous night. It made Mel smile to hear that Julian wasn’t having nightmares anymore but instead dreams about happier times in his life.

Although the conversation came to a halt as Asra leaned forward to swipe his thumb across Mel’s bottom lip. Only to bring it back to his own mouth to lick of a small drop of the dark jam. Mel seemed at a loss for words for a short moment before his face broke into a grin. Asra signature flirty smirk made an appearance as well. Even the corner of Julian lips seemed to twitch, trying to hold in laughter at Asra’s bold action.

“Asra, I’m trying to eat!” Mel said laughing with a mouth full of bread and jam.

Asra only licked his lips, looking almost like a starving wolf as his gaze narrowed. “How delicious, I would like some more if you don’t mind.”

Suddenly, Asra pressed his mouth to the corner of Mel’s, swiping his tongue out to lick off the jam of their bottom lip. The magician couldn’t help noticed the way Mel turned bright red as he pulled away gliding his tongue over his own lips once more.

“A-Asra!” Mel exclaimed, the words leaving their mouth before they could think about it.

“I suppose it’s only fair that I share right?” Asra said, winking over at Julian.

Mel tried to get their voice to cooperate but could only squeak out a few words.

“Let the poor thing finish their breakfast in peace.” He chided, before taking a napkin to Mel’s face giving it a quick wipe.

Mel scrunched up their noise at action but allowed it it. Asra let out a burst of laughter at Julians behaviour but thankfully listened to him.

As Mel finished off their breakfast, they excitedly explained everything they read about yesterday. Asra and Julian wore twin expressions of affection directed at Mel. They had both grown fond of Mel’s eccentric rambling once something had grasped their interest.

It made Mel’s heart swell with love as they both listened carefully. Although Mel knew that Asra most likely already knew all this information as he was well educated in the magical arts. Where as Julian was completely lost when it came to magic. They couldn’t help but feel like they were the luckiest person alive to have such wonderful people here with them in this moment who cared for them.

Once Mel had finished their brief little history lesson and their breakfast, Asra rose from their spot on the bed and removed the tray from Mel’s lap.

“I was thinking,” Asra began, “We could all do something after closing time today.”

Before anyone could suggest anything Mel excitedly chimed in.

“Oh, I purchased a new book recently! I want to research a few things about some herbs that grow south of here that Nadia had mentioned! She had told me that-”

They cut their own sentence off as they immediately noticed the annoyed expressions from their lovers.

“What?” Mel asked carefully as they received the stare down of the century.

“Nothing, my dear.” Julian had said, pressing a comforting hand to the small of their back. “Its just you were so wrapped up in your research yesterday. We would like some of your attention if you could spare some.”

Memories of yesterday came rushing back to them. They had continuously brushed off their partners pleas for attention, it was only now that the guilt was sinking in. Out of shame or embarrassment Mel’s face quickly turn a shade of red.

“Oh my, I’ve been acting so selfish.” Mel whispered, looking away, unable to look either of them in the eye.

Mel had tucked their chin in towards their chest, looking down at their folding hands nestled in their lap. Julian’s soft long fingers ever so gently took Mel’s chin a guided it upward to look in his eyes.

“Just say you’ll have dinner with us tonight?” He asked.

Mel smiled and nodded. “Anything for you two.”

“And maybe watch over the shop while I take a nap?” Asra yawned pairing it with a charming but mischievous smirk.

“Almost anything.” Mel had said as they rose to their feet to start the day, planting a kiss on his cheek.

#The arcana #julian devorak #Asra #mine #thearcanasecretsanta #writings

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