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wandaromanova · 3 years

Text

Enough

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cussing, failing marriage

A/N: hello! happy reading! <3

anon requested: Wanda x reader where they give her divorce paper because Wanda is always gone and distant

Summary: Even the most unbreakable bonds fall victim to the struggles of marriage.

Word Count: 5.1K | navigation

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

When you first met Wanda Maximoff, it was under unusual circumstances. You were browsing through a farmer’s market a couple of streets over from your apartment, glancing at various booths as you passed them by. It was a quiet day, the sun was shining down brightly, the heat stifling. You liked to get your groceries from these marketplaces, the fruit and vegetables were fresh and fewer people touched them in comparison to a wholesaler franchise.

You had been stood at one of your favorite fruit stands, warmly greeting the elderly woman who ran the booth and observing some strawberries. Then suddenly, your purse had been snatched from your person. You were startled and caught sight of a man running down, your purse in hand. You intended to run after the thief, but he didn’t get far.

A red glow encased the man, stopping him in his place a couple of feet away from you. Your eyes widened, as did everyone else’s, at the sight. You turned your head over your shoulder and were mesmerized by a brunette woman, eyes red, and her head tilted slightly to the side.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Considering you didn’t live under a rock, you knew exactly who she was; Wanda Maximoff.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You had seen her on the news quite often. She was an Avenger who had unique abilities that surpassed the rest of the group. Your eyes followed Wanda as she walked past you and toward the man who was still trapped by a glow of red. You moved without thinking, following behind her. After all, it was your purse that had been stolen.

“Stealing purses from women? How desperate could you be?” Her Sokovian accent met your ears as you stood back slightly. Wanda tore your purse out of the man’s grip and released him. He looked terrified as he took one glance at the brunette before running in the direction he was originally going in.

Everyone in the marketplace went back to what they were doing while you stood in the middle of the walkway, frozen in place as the Sokovian turned her body around to face you. Television and photos didn’t do her beauty justice; she was captivating.

There was a glow that surrounded her, a silhouette of gold colliding with her brunette locks. Her eyes were emerald with the smallest specks of blue. Her skin was remarkably flawless. You couldn’t help but wonder what her skincare routine was.

Wanda smiled lightly at you, amusement present in her eyes. “I don’t have a skincare routine. I just wash my face with a bar of soap and call it a day.” You blushed profusely at Wanda’s words.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Right… she could infiltrate people’s minds too. How could you forget something like that?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“T-thank you for helping me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if that dude actually got away with my purse.”

You mentally berated yourself for stuttering. The woman smiled at you and handed you the object, which you hung on your shoulder.

“Don’t mention it.” Wanda spoke dismissively with a wave of her hand. “Is there anything I can do to repay you? Maybe buy you a cup of coffee? There’s a really good cafe a couple of blocks down from here.”

You looked at Wanda hopefully, wanting to thank her for what she had done for you.

The brunette took a pause, contemplating her answer before nodding her head. “I could go for some coffee.”

You smiled brightly and pointed behind you with your thumb. “Well, it’s back that way.” You turned back and began walking, Wanda right beside you.

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

You sat in a booth with Wanda sat across from you. The cafe was fairly empty, which you were grateful for. Two cups of coffee were resting on the table, steam rising from the hot liquids.

“What’s an Avenger like yourself doing in a little farmer’s market?” You asked, taking a sip of your coffee as your eyes peered at the brunette over the rim of the mug.

“I always loved farmer’s markets. In Sokovia, my country, they were everywhere. So, I really love coming out to these sorts of places. It reminds me of home.”

You tensed at her words. Everyone knew about the rubble that Sokovia had become, and you felt kind of like an asshole for asking.

“I’m very sorry for what happened to your home.” You spoke sympathetically as you put your mug down gently. Wanda sent you a small smile. “Thank you. It wasn’t the greatest country. We were plagued by poverty, but it was still home.”

The Sokovian looked down to the mug in front of her in thought. You cleared your throat before speaking.

“Well, I know a ton of farmer’s markets in this area. I tend to alternate between them, depending on what I need at home.” Wanda’s eyes moved from her mug and to your own.

“If you want some recommendations, I’m your woman. Not to brag, but I’m kind of a farmer’s market pro.” You brushed off imaginary dust from your shoulders and Wanda let out small giggles at your faux cockiness.

“I would love some recommendations if it means you’ll take me on your shopping trips.”

You raised your eyebrow at her with a smirk. “If you wanted to spend more time with me, you should’ve just said so, Wanda. No need to be so coy.”

Wanda threw her head back, laughing wholeheartedly at your words. You couldn’t help but feel proud of yourself for making her laugh.

“Nah, I don’t want to spend time with you, I just want your street knowledge.” Wanda managed to let out, slowly coming down from her laughing fit.

“Oh! So you want to use me? I mean, let’s be honest... I wouldn’t mind if you did.” You spoke dramatically and Wanda laughed once more.

You smiled as you observed her. Her head was thrown back, cheeks red, and eyes closed as the cutest giggles you’ve ever heard met your ears.

It was then you decided that her laugh was your favorite sound, especially when you were the one to evoke them from the Sokovian.

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

Since that day, you guys had exchanged numbers and Wanda had accompanied you shopping once a week. You’d drag the Sokovian by the hand through various markets and give her pointers on which stands sell the best produce. You even introduced her to the vendors, even if they already knew who she was.

It was a wonderful time and afterward, the two of you would grab lunch in random restaurants, conversating over anything and everything. You had to admit, you looked forward to the one day a week you got to spend with Wanda. So, it kinda sucked whenever she couldn’t make it, away on some sort of mission.

However, her absence made her presence all the more special. She took time out of her hectic schedule to hang out with you and roam around carelessly.

Truthfully, you were kind of a nobody, just another number to the extensive population of New York. You were the head chef of a fine-dining restaurant, hence your preference for fresh ingredients at home.

It baffled you that someone of Wanda’s caliber would want to spend time with you, but you definitely weren’t complaining.

As weeks turned into months, you had grown exceptionally close to the Sokovian. You had gone from seeing her once a week to every other day, well, when she wasn’t away for work.

Wanda would come over to your apartment, sipping on some wine as she watched you cook dinner. You figured she was intrigued by your gracefulness in the kitchen, but really, she was just checking you out.

She thought you looked amazing in your little chef apron, your hair pulled back into a ponytail to keep your hair out of your face. However, a few loose strands fell and framed your face perfectly.

“Your hair looks sexy pushed back.” Wanda spoke, pulling you out of your concentration. Your eyes moved upward, staring at the woman who sat on a stool on the opposite side of your kitchen island.

“Did you just quote Mean Girls?” You asked amusedly and the brunette shrugged, a small smile on her face.

“Yes, I did. And what about it?” You rolled your eyes at Wanda’s sassiness. You would continue your task, disregarding her comment as best as you could, trying to ignore how flustered the woman made you.

Once dinner was prepared, the two of you would sit on the couch and choose a random movie on Netflix. Those nights were always filled with commentary and laughter. It was so easy to relax around the Sokovian. Everything seemed to fall into place whenever she was near.

So, it was no surprise when you realized you had feelings for Wanda that surpassed friendship. You had been nervous about revealing how you felt to the woman, but when you finally did, you felt like an idiot for being scared.

“I have feelings for you. Like, I like you a lot.” You anxiously played with your fingers, scared of Wanda’s reaction. She had been sat on your couch right beside you and you couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Hey.” Wanda spoke, gently gripping your chin and forcing you to look at her. “I like you, too.” Wanda giggled when your eyes widened in surprise.

“What? Don’t look so surprised. We’re practically dating already.” You rolled your eyes at the brunette with a smile on your face. The two of you sat there, smiling at each other like idiots, but neither of you seemed to care.

Your feelings weren’t one-sided and a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. After that day of confessions, you and Wanda became official.

Truthfully, not much changed between you two. You guys acted the same way you always did, but now kissing was added to the list of activities you would participate in.

ㅤ Wanda Maximoff is the love of your life; ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ and you would never let her go.

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

3 Years Later

You had been dating Wanda for three years and things were going wonderfully. She had moved into your apartment with you. It was amazing, knowing that she would end her days in your bed and you’d wake up with her in your arms the next morning.

However, one morning, you definitely weren’t particularly happy with your girlfriend. She had dragged you out of bed at 5AM and rushed you to get ready. Wanda didn’t tell you where the hell she was taking you at the ass crack of dawn. Each time you asked, she just shushed you.

Thirty minutes later, you walked with Wanda hand-in-hand. You knew the route she was taking and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You remained silent until you made it to your destination, and your suspicions had been confirmed; she had taken you to the farmer’s market closest to your apartment.

The area was completely empty, there were fairy lights strung about and a basket full of strawberries sitting on your favorite fruit stand. The sun was rising and the sky looked immaculate, the sun radiating a blood-orange color, complemented by golden yellow undertones. It was beautiful.

Wanda let go of your hand and moved forward, turning around to face you. It was then that you noticed how anxious she looked. Seriously, it looked like she was about to puke. “What are we doing here? Is everything okay?” Your concern for the Sokovian was evident in your tone.

Wanda gave you the best smile she could muster in her nervous state and nodded her head. “Everything is okay. Wait, scratch that. Everything is more than okay now that I have you in my life.” You smiled at your girlfriend as she took a deep breath.

“Y/N. Do you remember this spot?” Wanda asked you curiously and you nodded your head, a laugh escaping your lips. “Well, of course. We come here like once a month, duh.” The Sokovian shook her head at your words, rolling her eyes playfully.

“No shit, Sherlock. I meant, do you remember the significance of this specific spot?” You instantly nodded your head.

“This is where a random ass dude stole my purse and you scared him with your powers.” You smiled triumphantly while Wanda giggled.

“Well, you’re not wrong, but yeah. This is where we first met.” Wanda let out a shaky breath and you stared at her curiously.

“When I first came to America and joined the Avengers, I was petrified. They say this place is the land of opportunity, but it didn’t feel like that to me.”

The Sokovian began to ramble on, her eyes locked onto yours as you listened intently.

“Coming to America wasn’t a choice that I made, but it was the only option I had. I used to think that I could never find a home in this city, but I was wrong. I found a home. Not with the Avengers or in the Compound where I lived, but in this little market.”

Wanda moved forward, taking a step closer to you and holding both of your hands in her own. “I found you.” Your heart fluttered at her words, heat rising to your cheeks despite the cold morning air.

“I’m so happy that I decided to come here that morning because if I didn’t, I would’ve missed my opportunity to find love.”

Wanda let go of your hands and you instantly missed the warmth. However, your eyes went wide when your girlfriend got down on one knee.

“Y/N, you brought hope and love into my life when I ran out of it. I never thought I would entertain the idea of marriage, but now… it’s all I can think about.”

A loud gasp surpassed your lips, your hands flying up to cover your mouth as Wanda pulled out a tiny red velvet box. She opened it slowly and inside sat a stunning engagement ring with a huge diamond sat on top of it.

“Will you marry me?” Wanda looked up at you hopefully as you stared down at her with tears springing to your eyes.

You instantly nodded your head as a few tears fell down your face. “Yes!” You managed to breathe out and the Sokovian was beaming.

She took your left hand in hers and steadily slid the ring onto your finger before kissing the back of your hand. Wanda stood up hastily and pulled your body into hers by the waist, passionately moving her lips against your own.

It was euphoric. The sunrise encased your figures in a golden hue, the cold atmosphere turning warm from each other’s body heat. You were two women who loved each other dearly, kissing in the middle of a vacant farmer’s market without a care in the world.

ㅤ The promise of forever hung in the air that ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤsurrounded you both; and you were free.

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

1 Year Later

A year after your engagement, you and Wanda had gotten married. The ceremony was absolutely gorgeous as you were surrounded by your family and friends. You would never forget the way Wanda teared up as you walked down the aisle, your father by your side.

You recall the small giggles you’d share with Wanda as the two of you stood at the altar. Neither of you could take it seriously, whispering quiet flirtatious remarks to each other. However, your laughs died down when you reached your vows.

“Wanda, you are my hero. Sure, you may save the world from threats for a living, but you do so much more than that. You save me from purse thieves and kill the spiders in my apartment because I’m too scared to go near them.”

Wanda and the audience seated in front of you had laughed at your words. You let out a shaky breath, Wanda sending you a reassuring smile before you continued.

“Whenever I order a burger, you always eat the tomato because you know how much I dislike them. You take care of the tiny cuts I get from work, sometimes being a little too dramatic about my injury.

You looked down at your hands nervously before returning your gaze to the brunette who stood in front of you. The white dress she had on was absolutely gorgeous, complementing her emerald eyes perfectly.

“But you’re always so gentle, you’re always there for me. I promise to do the same for you. I won’t kill the spiders for you, but I’ll be there whenever you need me, even when you don’t. I’ll be on standby anyway.”

You were entranced by the woman who stood in front of you. You weren’t too fond of public speaking, but it was easy when Wanda was with you; everything was easier with Wanda around.

“I’m so grateful for you, Wanda Maximoff. You are the other half of my heart and soul that I didn’t realize was missing, but now that I’ve found you; I never intend on letting you go. Sorry, but you’re stuck with me.”

You ended your vows with a small chuckle. Wanda’s eyes were focused on your own, shining brightly as a smile crossed her features. When her turn came around, you were practically a melted puddle by the end of it.

“Y/N, you are my love. I don’t think you realize just how deeply I love you. I would do anything for you. From fighting off an entire army to letting you eat some of my food even if you said you weren’t hungry.”

The room filled with laughter once more, a blush coming to your cheeks from being called out. Food just tasted better when it wasn’t your own.

“I’ll let you fight your own battles, but I’ll always be there for backup. I promise to you that I will do everything in my power to keep you happy and safe because you are my main priority.. I’ll be anything you need me to be; a best friend, a shoulder to cry on, a protector, a wife. You name it and I’ll be it for you.”

You were a crying mess when Wanda finished her vows. You felt an overwhelming feeling of love consume you. Her words struck a chord within you and just… god damn it, you loved her so much.

After the ‘I do’s,’ you and Wanda kissed as if you were the only people in the room. Honestly, it felt like it at that moment. You had just declared your devotion and unwavering love to one another.

It was the beginning of forever and you couldn’t wait to see what the future had in store for you both.

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

2 Years Later

Two years of marriage had been interesting. The first year went flawlessly, it was as if you and Wanda were on a high. It was the most intense and passionate year that the two of you had ever shared. The two of you had purchased a condo together, moving out of your former apartment.

Long nights of love-making that spilled over to the morning, working out together, and spending practically every single minute together possible. Of course, the two of you still had your respective jobs, but that never affected your relationship.

The married life seemed like smooth sailing, but little did you know, there was a thunderstorm not too far ahead. Treacherous waves and destructive lightning were in the near future, you just didn’t know it yet.

Things had started going south at a relatively slow pace. Wanda was progressively assigned to more missions, spending less time at home and an increased amount of time at work. You didn’t let it get to you at the time, it was the way life worked. Wanda was literally a superhero and the world always seemed to need saving.

This went on for several months. Waking up to an empty bed and going to bed the same way. You rarely saw your wife and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t upset you. It was a drastic change from what you were used to. You only saw the Sokovian for an hour or two, every other day.

And when you did see her, your time was filled with arguing over things that neither of you could really remember. There was a sudden halt to all forms of affection, animosity taking its place.

It was particularly bad the night you brought up the topic of Wanda’s presence and the lack thereof.

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

You had been lying in bed, your head resting against the headboard as you scrolled through your phone. The sound of the front door opening had caught your attention and you quickly tossed your phone aside and stood up, making your way out of the bedroom.

You were met with Wanda taking off her shoes in front of the door. Her eyes darted up to you, the annoyance that crossed her face had hurt you, not that you would tell her that.

“Hey, you’re back early.” You stated, maintaining a happier tone to avoid an argument. Wanda walked past you and toward the kitchen, opening up the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water.

She shut the fridge and turned around to look at you. “Why? Did you not want me here? Because I can leave if it’s such a problem.”

You were taken aback by Wanda’s attitude. You spoke one sentence and somehow managed to upset her. It was absurd.

Despite your growing irritation, you remained calm. You hated fighting with your wife and you knew that someone had to be the bigger person.

“No, it’s not a problem at all. I’m glad you’re here. You’ve been gone a lot and I miss you.” You smiled, walking over to your wife who still stood in the kitchen, wrapping your arms around her waist.

However, the brunette grabbed your arms and tore them off her body, whipping around to face you.

She was clearly angry and you didn’t understand how any of what you said could’ve pissed her off. “Yeah, I’m gone a lot because people need me. I can’t drop everything to be with you just because you’re needy as fuck.” Wanda spoke bitterly as she glared at you.

Your chest tightened at her words, flashbacks of your wedding day hitting you. You took a deep breath, gulping to prevent a sob from coming out.

“I thought I was your main priority or did you just make that up for show? To have everyone at our wedding believe that I’m of any importance to you?”

You were getting angry, your voice rose slightly. You felt your blood pressure rising, your body getting hot from your frustration.

“Wanda, I just want to see you more because you’re my wife. It has nothing to do with being needy, seeing you more than an hour or two every few days is a fucking standard in a marriage!”

You took a step back from Wanda as you screamed. You were fed up with being made out to be some clingy person when you were simply being a wife to the Sokovian. She rolled her eyes at you, crossing her arms over her chest as she gazed at you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Well, then maybe our marriage was a mistake.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda spoke without thinking, not caring about anything other than going for the killshot and winning the argument. Her words seemed to have worked as you visibly deflated.

Your anger was replaced with sadness. You let out a dark chuckle at her words, shaking your head before walking into the bedroom slamming the door behind you, and locking it.

Wanda didn’t expect that reaction, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was that she had won the argument. She figured she would be sleeping on the couch tonight and she was satisfied with that. You didn’t want to see her and she didn’t want to see you.

So, the Sokovian brought her bottle of water over to the living room, placing it on the coffee table before crashing onto the couch. She got comfortable, closing her eyes as slumber took over her.

•❅��─────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

3 Weeks Later

Since the argument, things were the same, but different all at once. Wanda still went on mission after mission, but you had taken up more shifts at the restaurant. You didn’t want to be alone in the condo any longer than you had to be. You needed the extra money anyway.

When you were home, you were silent, no longer bothering to speak to your wife. You were two strangers that occupied a living space together. Wanda’s words played in your head like a broken record. It was all you could think about whenever you’d see her.

The promise of forever hung in the air that surrounded you both; and you were trapped. Your life had become a vicious cycle of tension and avoidance.

Your engagement and wedding felt like an absolute lie now. They always say the first years of marriage are the hardest, but you didn’t think it would be this difficult.

You and Wanda had petty arguments over the six years you two had been together, but they were rare and were usually resolved quickly.

But not this, no, this entire situation was different. You were in a never-ending loop of anger and resentment, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

Wanda pulled out her keys and unlocked the door to the condo. She had just gotten back from an emergency meeting with the team. The Sokovian stopped in her tracks as soon as she opened the door.

There you were, sat at the kitchen table. You were leaning back, your arm resting on the table as your hand enclosed around a glass of whiskey. Your bloodshot, red eyes, and the dried streaks of tears that adorned your cheeks were evidence of your crying. Wanda had never seen you so down.

The brunette slowly shut the door behind her, surprised when you spoke. She didn’t think you’d noticed her presence, your eyes trained on the glass in your hand. “We need to talk.”

Wanda nodded her head at your words and slowly approached the table. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion when she saw a stack of papers on the table.

Wanda sat down across from you and finally, you looked at her. The Sokovian’s heart clenched as you stared at her emotionlessly. You downed the entire glass of alcohol, not even wincing at the burn, but welcoming it. You put the glass down and cleared your throat before speaking.

“Wanda, I love you so much, but we can’t keep living like this.” Your voice was hoarse, a result of your earlier crying and the beverage you had just ingested. Wanda stared at you in confusion.

“What are you talking about?” The Sokovian felt fear slowly creeping in. She didn’t have a good feeling about this.

“Oh, come on. You know what I’m talking about. We act like we don’t even know each other anymore. We aren’t even wives anymore, we’re just two people who live together.” You didn’t have the energy to yell anymore, your voice was soft and calm.

Wanda still didn’t understand the direction this conversation was going in. Nothing could’ve prepared her for your next words.

“I visited a lawyer and hired him. He was going to give you these, but I decided to do it myself.” You sat up and pushed the papers across the table. “I’m officially serving you with divorce papers.”

Wanda’s heart stopped as she comprehended your words. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Wha- what? A divorce? Please tell me you’re joking.” Wanda looked down at the papers and back up to you in utter disbelief.

“I wish I was joking, but I’m not. I want a divorce.” You were eerily calm, maintaining your composure while Wanda felt like she was going to crumble to pieces at any given moment.

“Is this about my missions? If it is, I’ll ask Steve to relax my workload. I’ll be around more often and I’ll stop being an asshole. Just, please don’t do this. I’ll make it right, I promise.” Wanda leaned forward and reached out for your hand pleadingly, but you didn’t let her.

You pulled your arm off of the table and shook your head. “Wanda, you shouldn’t have to make it up to me in the first place. It shouldn’t take a divorce for you to finally act like a proper wife. I’m not changing my mind.” You spoke firmly, but Wanda refused to accept your words.

The Sokovian abruptly stood up, the loud sound of her chair scraping against the floor filled the room.

“So, that’s it? You’re just gonna give up on everything we have? You’re gonna throw in the towel because things are a little rough right now? You’re a fucking coward, Y/N!”

Wanda was enraged as you stared at her unimpressed. Her chest was heaving as she glared at you. “This is exactly why this needs to happen. We can’t have one conversation without someone yelling.” You stood up slowly, rounding the table and making your way to the front door.

Wanda watched your every move like a hawk. You reached for your purse that hung beside the door and flung it over your shoulder before turning around to face the Sokovian. “I suggest you get a lawyer as well.” You spoke simply and turned back around, your hand on the doorknob.

Something in Wanda went off, seeing you about to walk out had raised alarms in her mind. You were really leaving her. The brunette moved without a single thought, rushing over to you as you pulled the door open. She gripped your wrist tightly, causing your head to turn back to her, a sad expression on your face.

“Please don’t leave me. I love you and you love me. Does that not mean anything to you anymore?” Wanda’s anger dissipated to desperation. She stared at you right in the eyes, begging you to stay. Pleading you not to put an end to your marriage.

“Our love means the absolute world to me, Wanda. But sometimes… love just isn’t enough.”

You smiled sadly at the Sokovian before gently pulling her hand off of your wrist. It was kinda difficult considering how firm her grip had been, but you managed.

You walked out and all Wanda could do was sit there and watch as you walked down the hall and away from all of the memories you had made together. You never thought that your marriage with the brunette would come to an end, let alone an ugly one.

But your marriage had become toxic, slowly feeding away at any sort of happiness you had left. It was a painful decision to come to; a divorce, but it felt like the right one. The Sokovian was right, you did love her; which is why you needed to put an end to the torture.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤ Wanda Maximoff is the love of your life; ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ but you had to let her go.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

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gukyi · 4 years

Text

the love project | jjk

summary: from running to mcdonald’s at 3am after a halloween party where the two of you dressed up as the teletubbies to timing how long it takes for him to drink a cup of monster mixed with mountain dew and iced coffee and then do fifty push-ups, you’re used to your best friend jungkook asking you to do all sorts of crazy things. but, of all the shit the two of you do, letting him follow you around for a week with a camera and take candid photos of you for a photography assignment might just be the craziest of them all.

{college!au, friends to lovers!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 12k warnings: college antics, hopeless pining, slow burn a/n: me: this fic will be 10k max! also me: actually nevermind on par for the course of this blog, i hope you enjoy this fic! it was so much fun to write and it definitely got me back into the ~writing mood~. more fics coming soon!

These days, the weeks pass you by like trains on a platform. They whiz past you, the only discernible features being the beginning and the end of them, with the middle nothing but a blur.

At least, that’s how it feels when you’re in college, and the days bleed into weeks bleed into months, and suddenly you’re one year closer to graduating, one year closer to figuring out what next to do with your life, even if you’re still missing that one general education requirement you forgot to take in your first year so now you’re trying to cram it into your schedule at the last minute.

Okay, you’ll admit it. Introduction to Astronomy is kicking your ass. That’s what you get for putting it off until junior year, when you’re supposed to have reached the point in your History major career where you don’t have to look at numbers anymore and the idea of doing basic math is absolutely unfathomable. History majors don’t do math. They just don’t. It vanished from your academic arsenal long before now, alongside your ability to interpret word problems and understand science textbooks.

Perhaps in another universe, you would have actually retained those skills past high school, but that universe is not this one, and so your problem sets can solve themselves or not be solved at all.

Your best friend would have to disagree.

“It’s not even calculus!” Jungkook exclaims over a mouthful of a Starbucks tomato and pesto panini, pointing to your laptop in exasperation, as if the answer has been staring you in the face for the past fifteen minutes. “It’s just algebra! All you’re doing is plugging the numbers into the formula and finding the missing variable!”

“Easy for you to say,” you huff, furiously erasing at the notebook in front of you as you get yet another incorrect answer. Who knew math could be so difficult? Oh, that’s right. You did. “You took that advanced differential equations class for fun last year. It’s not even required for your major. You’re just a masochist.”

“Says the person who convinced their advisor to let them take seven classes because they, and I quote, ‘all seemed so interesting’ and you ‘didn’t want to miss out.’” Jungkook rebukes pointedly. “Because your life would be so terrible if you didn’t take Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe.”

He’s got you there. Seven classes is a lot. In your defense, Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe was very interesting and you got a 4.0 that semester. So who is he to judge? Jungkook’s favorite pastime is pretending that taking three different computer science classes in a single semester isn’t going to single-handedly kill him.

Jungkook watches you struggle for a few moments more before he sighs, like he can’t take looking at someone so mathematically incompetent any longer. He stuffs the remaining third of his Starbucks panini into his mouth all at once like the ravenous beast he is before he reaches over the tiny table you’re sat at to look at your problem set himself. He turns your laptop towards him and grabs hold of your notebook, furrowing his eyebrows as he enters Work Jungkook Mode.

Work Jungkook Mode is the mode of him you see most often during finals week or the rare occasions where you meet up to actually try and get work done. Work Jungkook has tunnel vision for whatever assignment is currently in front of him, which he will do either in one sitting or die trying. Work Jungkook lets his coffee get cold and forgets to answer your text messages, even when you’re sat right across from him and you know that he can see the notification on his laptop. Work Jungkook refuses to turn in anything that he hasn’t devoted his entire being to, even if it’s something as simple as a discussion board post. Some of his other friends say that when Jungkook is in Work Jungkook Mode, they won’t even try to contact him, lest their messages get lost in the flurry of his coding assignments.

But you are not “some of his other friends.” You are his best friend. So rules do not apply to you. And Jungkook has long accepted that fact.

“Hey, don’t mess up my work—” You exclaim defensively, grabby hands reaching over the table to retrieve your notebook. “Wait, how did you do that?”

Jungkook scribbles something down in nearly-illegible font, determined to solve the problem in front of him. He thinks for a few more seconds before eventually jotting down an answer, circling it with his pencil. Holding the notebook out so both of you can see, he scoots his chair over to your side of the table, your shoulders pressed together in this tiny corner of the Starbucks, right by the bathroom, and explains, step by step, what he did.

He does that for the following two problems in your set, walking you through the kind of math he was doing in freshman year of high school like it’s nothing, answering all of your stupid questions and giving you tips on how to finesse the system by taking as many shortcuts as possible. Teaching you things you never learned, or possibly had just forgotten. Things that a professor would think is idiotic to re-teach to a junior in university. Things that Jungkook wants you to know because he just wants you to have a little more faith in yourself.

“Does that help?” He asks when he’s finished, still doubting his fantastic teaching abilities despite the fact that he just taught you more in the last thirty minutes than your professor has managed in a month and a half.

“It actually does,” you tell him, pleasantly surprised. Looking back down at your notebook, what was once a shapeless blur of numbers, letters, and formulas is suddenly a clear and organized outline of each and every step to follow. “I didn’t know it was that easy.”

“Anything can be easy if you just commit yourself to learning how to do it,” Jungkook says, one of those random sentences that are too wise for a college student surviving off of RedBull and Starbucks food, the ones that always make you think Jungkook is secretly an immortal sage with life experiences far beyond your own. “Except coding. Which is hard no matter how good you are at it.”

“Aw, you can do it,” you rally, reaching up to pinch his chin in between your fingers and squeeze it tight. “It’s also too late to change your major now, so you’re stuck.”

“Wow, thanks for the encouragement,” Jungkook chides, hand coming up to rub at where you held his jaw, rolling his eyes. “You should let me help you with your Astronomy work more often. Gives me a break from Python.”

“I would have made you help me whether you liked it or not,” you tell him pointedly, because he is your best friend and he doesn’t get out of things as easily as he thinks he can. “But thanks. I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

“Of course,” Jungkook says with a good-natured grin, always so selfless and kind and giving. He practically signed himself up for a semester’s worth of TA-ing for Introduction to Astronomy despite the constant mountain of work he has himself. Just because it’s you.

“My very own personal genius,” you muse, wrapping your hands around his arm and snuggling into his body, a whisper of a language only the two of you share. It’s something the two of you have long gotten used to, pressing your fingers all over each other’s bodies like it’s second nature. One of the things that makes you feel so certain about having Jungkook in your life. About wanting him to stay with you for the rest of time. “I’m never letting you go.”

Jungkook smiles, a warm hand coming to rest atop of your own. He breathes, in and out, chest rising beneath your touch. “Like I’d ever let you,” he says.

There is no question about it. Jungkook is one hundred percent, absolutely, undoubtedly, positively, indisputably smarter than you are. It’s something that the two of you used to jokingly fight about (because Jungkook claims that he’s a bad essay writer, even though he’s not), but at this point it’s cemented in stone—he’s a damn genius. A genius who is inexplicably good at everything. A double threat. Triple, if you count the fact that he’s built beyond belief and could probably chuck you into next week if you really, really ticked him off.

The truth is that, ninety percent of the time it is you who is going to Jungkook for help. Whether it be an assignment you need assistance on (namely Astronomy, because Jungkook probably couldn’t help you on your Mesopotamian artifact and primary source analyses despite his best intentions), a date that was a lot worse than you were hoping it would be, or even just the right coffee to order from that expensive place on the corner. Jungkook knows how to fix everything.

So when Jungkook slides into the seat across from you in the food court after his Mastering Photography class with that I’m in trouble look on his face, you know something is horribly wrong.

“Are you alright?” You ask, concerned as you watch him devour the sushi takeout in front of him, stuffing the spicy tuna rolls into his mouth like they’re Skittles. His camera hangs haphazardly out of his open backpack, like he barely had enough time to stuff it into the pocket while he was making his way here. There’s a worried expression written all over his face as he fumbles with the chopsticks in his hand, losing his grip on them every ten seconds.

It’s not until Jungkook has finished the container of spicy tuna rolls in front of them that he finally seems to work up the courage to answer you.

“My Photography class is gonna be the death of me,” Jungkook exclaims, exasperated.

“I thought you liked it,” you comment unhelpfully. Jungkook had been so excited to be enrolled in it, because you needed a recommendation from a different professor and you had to submit a portfolio in order to join the class, making it one of those exclusive (and thus, much better) courses. Not to mention the fact that Jungkook is basically already a professional photographer if his Instagram is anything to go by. He’s going to walk out of university with a Photography minor whether he realizes it or not.

“I do,” Jungkook insists, even if right now it sounds like the two of you both need convincing of that fact. “But this project is ridiculous. I don’t even know how my professor expects us to have the time to finish it.”

“What do you have to do?”

Jungkook sighs. Just thinking about it seems to stress him out. “I mean, it’s only really a week long. So I guess it’s not too bad. But we’re supposed to compile a portfolio of the same subject, taken over the course of the week, with them in all sorts of different poses and lighting and locations, to express a personal theme.”

You scrunch your nose up in confusion. “I might be wrong, but isn’t that what photography… is?” You ask cluelessly.

“Yes,” Jungkook argues, “but also no. Photography is taking pictures of things just for the hell of it. Not because they necessarily speak to a part of your soul. You just like the look of it. You want to capture the scene. That’s it.”

“Oh,” You say dumbly.

“And our subject can be whoever or whatever we want, but he recommended choosing a person because taking pictures of our water bottles in different places is boring,” Jungkook huffs, though his professor does have a point there. Modern history wasn’t made out of photographs of store windows and miscellaneous items. It was made out of people, out of events in their lives that shaped the rest of the world, out of personal experiences that changed their point of view. “But I don’t even know anybody who would be willing to let me photograph them for a whole week! I’d basically have to follow them around like paparazzi!”

“I’ll do it,” you suggest casually, because it seems like the most obvious choice to you. There’s no one Jungkook spends as much time with as you.

Jungkook’s eyes pop out of his head. “What?”

“I’m serious,” you insist. “Think about it. You need a subject for your project that you can photograph in a wide variety of places and over the course of a week. Who else do you spend that much time with, other than me?”

“Well..” Jungkook begins, trying to fight your reasons with his own. “Would you even be comfortable with something like that? I mean, I’m literally going to constantly be taking photos of you.”

“Like we don’t already do that on our phones,” you tease, having amassed quite the album of terrible Jungkook pictures over the years.

“A camera is different from a phone,” Jungkook protests weakly.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I’m just saying. It won’t bother me,” you say with a shrug. Why is Jungkook being so… weird about your suggestion? You thought he would be jumping at the offer, especially considering it means he won’t have to go out of his way to find and photograph someone else for this assignment. But he’s being rather hesitant. You watch as he glares down at his empty sushi takeout box, eyebrows furrowed in that thick, nervous way. “But you don’t have to,” you backtrack. “It was just a suggestion.”

He breathes in and breathes out, expression solid. Even from here you can see the cogs whirring in his brain, placing each and every potential result into a pro and con list inside his mind, trying to work out whether the benefits will be greater than the cost.

Quite frankly, you don’t know what all the holdup is about.

“You’re… sure about this?” He asks, looking up at you, determined to ensure your comfort. As if that’s even an issue. “You’re cool with being photographed and everything?”

“Only because it’s you,” you tease lightheartedly, expecting some sort of equally cheesy response. Instead, it makes Jungkook do something weird. He freezes in place, darting his eyes away from your gaze for a split second, collecting thoughts you can’t see. “Yeah,” you say loudly, trying to bring him back. “I’m fine with it.”

He inhales, exhales, closes his eyes, and opens them. “Okay then. I guess it’s settled. You’ll be my subject,” he declares, an almost unnoticeable wobble to his voice. It’s probably nothing, so you don’t think too hard about it.

“Can you at least pretend to be a little more excited about this?” You ask, jabbing him in the chest with a wooden chopstick. “It’s the first time we’ve ever gotten to be part of a project together!”

“Yay,” Jungkook says, lifeless.

“How about a photo to commemorate it?” You suggest, reaching over to pull the camera out of his backpack, pushing it into his hands. “This can be the start of your portfolio.”

“Fine,” he eventually caves, bringing it up to his eye as he turns it on, twisting the lens to perfect the focus. Even caught off guard like this, he looks like a professional, like someone who was born to be behind the camera. He’s a computer science major but you know that photography will always be something special to him.

You strike a dramatic pose, holding your chopsticks out, one in each hand, with a wide, excited smile on your face. “How do I look?” You ask, scrunching your eyes together.

Jungkook’s finger hovers over the silver button. “Perfect,” he tells you, voice soft and honest.

Click.

“So, how many photos are you supposed to take for this portfolio?” You ask as you flop around on Jungkook’s bed, pretending that the open tab on your laptop with your fifty-page reading doesn’t exist. You don’t even know why professors assign readings that long. Do they really expect you to read all of it?

From across his room, you can make out the top of Jungkook’s fluffy brown hair over his sleek gaming chair, one of the ones that look like high-tech airplane seats. “I don’t know,” he says. “He said at least twenty. And no more than fifty. Which really makes me wonder if someone once submitted like, one hundred photos for this project that he had to grade them on. But yeah.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” you say. When you’re around a cute animal, you can easily take twenty photographs. Granted, they aren’t exactly award-worthy photographs, but it’s not a physically demanding task.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. “Hypothetically you could finish it in a day. But it looks really obvious.”

“Well, how many do you have now?”

It’s been a day and a half since Jungkook agreed to let you be his so-called muse, but already you’ve lost track of how many photos he’s taken of you. He loves his camera, you know that, but you didn’t realize exactly how much he loves his camera. And with you as the sole subject for his project, he’s practically letting it hang from his neck all day long, just waiting for the right time to snap a photo of you standing in line at the food court, frowning at your textbook, or waiting to meet up with him. Every time he sees you he snaps a picture, even if the lighting’s bad, even if you haven’t had your morning coffee yet, even if it’s midnight and you look like a zombie. In his mind, there are no bad pictures. Just memories.

You wonder what the hell he sees in you.

“A lot,” Jungkook answers unhelpfully, making no effort to elaborate on that statement.

“Have you counted?” You ask, getting off of his bed to join him at his desk.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize what you’re doing until you’re standing right next to him, placing a hand over his shoulders as you lean down next to him. He fumbles around for a second, the mouse slipping through his grip, and you catch a glimpse of one of the photos he’s taken of you, a sliver of your pursed lips, the wrinkles between your eyebrows.

It’s from the library yesterday. You didn’t even know Jungkook had taken a picture of you there. You had a stupid reading to complete last night, one that made no sense and was terribly-written, and you spent an hour just trying to figure out what the damn argument was, and Jungkook captured it. You were there for an hour and Jungkook was there too, watching you like it was nothing, waiting for the perfect moment. He was there, sitting across from you, camera at the ready. You didn’t even hear it click.

He closes it before you get a closer look at the photo, frantically hitting the little red dot at the top corner of the window before you have a chance to ask why.

“What, I’m not allowed to see?” You chide, a little bit hurt but more confused than anything else. Why is Jungkook being so secretive?

“No,” Jungkook spits quickly. making you raise an eyebrow in alarm. “I mean, it’s a surprise. You get to see when it’s finished. I still have to… uh, edit. And stuff.”

“Edit? You think I’m that ugly?” You tease, knowing that he probably means color correction but enjoying the way that he gets all flustered when he hears your voice.

Jungkook’s eyes widen at that, like he just realized he made a wrong turn and is desperately backtracking. “What, no! I don’t—I don’t think you’re ugly.”

You laugh, letting the sound of your voice ease the tension in his shoulders, reveling in the way his big doe eyes seem to soften when he realizes you were just teasing. He looks like a kid caught stealing a candy bar from a gas station, looks like one of those boyfriends in the viral videos where the girl reveals that she got him a present or something instead, all nervous and full of explanations.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” you assure him, rubbing up and down his arm to soothe him, calm his heart down. “You don’t have to show me. I’m just excited. No one’s ever taken photos of me like this before.”

“I would,” Jungkook speaks up softly. “If you asked. I would.”

“I know,” You say. You’re not sure if there’s a thing in this world Jungkook wouldn’t do for you, and you, him. If he asked, you would pluck the stars from the sky for him. Bring him back a piece of the moon. Stop time. Anything. Everything. Just for him. “I know.”

“What are you doing?” Jungkook asks, changing the topic as he whirls around in his gaming chair.

“Just another reading, like always,” you dismiss, because you’re positive the last thing Jungkook wants to hear about right now is your primary source reading on irrigation techniques in agrarian Europe. You don’t even want to hear about it. “But I could use some help on Astronomy.”

Without another word, Jungkook gets up from his desk and the two of you head over to his bed, where an untouched problem set waits on your computer. He grabs a notebook from his backpack along the way before sitting down next to you on the edge of his bed, bodies pressed together. Slowly, he begins to coach you through each problem, step by step, drawing pictures and diagrams if he has to, until you finish all ten problems.

The truth is, you didn’t really need help with this unit. Astronomy’s gotten a lot easier now that Jungkook has taught you the strategies to tackle it. But Jungkook sometimes feels like a ghost when he works, especially when he’s sitting at his desk, quiet and focused and almost invisible. And call you clingy, but you like it when you can look up and see his face instead of the back of a chair, a little tuft of wavy brown hair. You like it when he’s right beside you, in a place where you know you won’t lose him, where you can hold on if things get rough. Where you can see his stupid brown eyes and his goofy smile and know that he’ll always be there for you.

When he’s finished, Jungkook doesn’t get back up to sit at his desk. He flops down on his back, staring up at the white ceiling of his room, eyes tracing the cracks. You join him, side by side, pretending that there’s something there. Looking up at the sky would be nicer, but it doesn’t really matter, so long as you’re with him.

“I didn’t know you took so many photos,” you say.

“I never want to miss anything.”

“You should give me more warnings, next time. I feel like I look so ugly in some of them.”

“No, you don’t. Don’t say stuff like that.”

“You don’t think I’m ugly?” You ask him, for real this time. It’s not that you think he’s going to say that he does, it’s that you want to know what he really thinks. How he really sees you. You turn your head to him, back pressed against his comforter, barely a foot apart. And he turns back to you, and he’s right there, right there in front of you, big brown eyes wide and blinking. He’s right there, how could you miss him?

“No,” Jungkook says, honest and true. He looks at you, looks right at you, right into you, and he muses to himself, chuckling. “Why would I ever think that?”

At the end of the day, you can’t really be bothered to put on real pants in anticipation of Jungkook’s trigger-happy camera-taking tendencies. He’s seen you spill a boiling hot bowl of tomato soup all over yourself in the dining hall. He’s seen you at four in the morning in the library the night before finals begin, eyebags down to your knees and mismatched shoes on your feet. He’s seen you in the middle of a frat house, sweat dripping down your forehead and smelling of nothing but straight alcohol. Getting dressed up just for him would be antithetical to the very foundation of your friendship.

You have, however, become keenly more cognizant in the last few days of when Jungkook is about to take a photo of you. Mostly because you glance up at your surroundings every three seconds to make sure you aren’t getting sniped from across the food court. Nobody else needs to see a picture of you picking up three pieces of sushi with your chopsticks and stuffing them all into your mouth at once. And, from what you can tell, you’ve been pretty successful, which either means you’ve gotten better at telling when Jungkook might be taking a photo of you, or Jungkook’s gotten better at hiding it.

Either way, he’s got a lot more pictures of you reflexively flashing a peace-sign in his direction when you hear the telltale sound of his camera lens focusing, so you’re not really sure what that means for the fate of his portfolio.

Besides your newfound hyper-awareness of the sound of a camera lens adjusting, the strangest part of you and Jungkook’s little project is how quickly the rest of your friends adjusted to this brand new dynamic.

This is not to say this assignment is the weirdest thing you and Jungkook have done together, because there was once one week where you and Jungkook challenged each other to only eat bananas for every meal to see if anything would happen to either of you. Nothing did, but after that week you swore off bananas for the rest of your life and have had little appetite for them since.

It’s more that your other friends have just accepted the fact that ridiculous, extravagant shenanigans are a necessary part of you and Jungkook’s relationship and have simply chosen not to question them anymore. At least, most of them have.

“So, how’s you and Jungkook’s little photography fling going?” Maisie asks, and even through the phone you can hear the way she’s wiggling her eyebrows.

“It’s not a fling, and it’s fine,” you hiss back, trying to keep your voice down as you pack up your belongings, phone pressed between your ear and your shoulder. “Stop speaking so loudly, everyone else in the library can probably hear you.”

“Good, because they’ve all probably noticed the way Jungkook’s been following you around like an unrestrained fanboy for the past four days taking pictures of you,” Maisie says pointedly, voice so sharp it causes you to look around at the other tables to make sure no one’s listening in.

You frown, hoping your deadpan expression is audible through the phone. “It’s not like that and you know it.”

“Don’t you think it’s even a little strange that you’ve given Jungkook full permission to take photos of you like you’re a model and he’s some sort of weird, professional paparazzi?” You can practically see Maisie’s face in front of you, all wide eyes and raised eyebrows as she makes her point.

“No, it’s what we agreed on,” you remind her for the umpteenth time. There’s nothing weird about this. You’re helping him with a project, what more could it be? “Jungkook needed someone to take pictures of for his photography project and I thought it would be a good idea if I was that someone.”

“Hmm… wonder why…” Maisie trails off, deliberately vague and suggestive all at once.

“You’ve been going on about this ever since Jungkook and I met, Maise,” you say with a roll of your eyes, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. “You know that Jungkook and I are just friends. Like we have always been.”

“Friends that take candid photos of each other under the guise of a project,” Maisie adds, and you can see the air quotes around the word “project” right in front of you.

“Friends that help each other out because that’s what friends do,” you correct. “You’re just going to have to accept the fact that Jungkook and I are always going to be just friends and nothing more. No matter how much money you’ve bet on us getting together.”

Maisie gasps. “I have not bet money on such a thing! This is slander!”

“Don’t think I don’t see you and Jimin’s damn Venmo history.” You pull up to the front desk of the library to check out a primary source book needed for one of your classes. It’s the first edition, and it’s battered beyond belief, but it’s better than paying for it. “Just this, thanks.”

“The only way you could convince me that you and Jungkook are just friends is if you go on a date or something,” Maisie comments snidely. “I don’t think I’ve seen either of you romantically interested in someone else the entire time you’ve known each other. Isn’t that proof enough?”

“You want me to go on a date with someone?” You demand, determined to get Maisie to hop off your ass about this.

You and Jungkook are just friends. If swiping right with someone on Tinder and getting dinner and a movie with them is what will convince Maisie of that, then that is what you will do. It’s not as if being friends with Jungkook is mutually exclusive with you going out with other people. Should be easy, right?

The boy behind the counter tells you your book is due back at the end of the semester, and you nod your thanks before heading out of the library.

“Fine, I’ll go on a date with someone. If it’ll get you to stop trying to convince me that Jungkook and I are gonna get married and have babies,” you declare, pushing your body against the door handles as you leave, five minutes to spare before your next class begins.

“You guys would have really cute babies, I’m just saying,” Maisie points out like it’s nothing.

You roll your eyes, taking the phone away from your ear as your finger hovers over the red button. “See you, Maise.”

You’re barely three steps out of the library, still rolling your eyes at the Call Ended screen on your phone when a voice catches your attention.

“Y/N!”

You turn your head just in time to see Jungkook’s devilish grin disappear behind his camera, and you don’t even have time to blink before he begins snapping away, finger mashing the silver button at the top as your expression morphs from surprise to defeat, unable to counter his sniping abilities with a signature peace sign. Even from twenty feet away, you can hear Jungkook laughing as you take the opportunity to pose for a few moments, like you really are a model and he really is your personal photographer. The sound of his giggles fills the air, music to your ears, lingering between you like dandelion wisps, blown by the wind.

Another voice breaks you from your trance.

“And here we have our resident celebrity and her paparazzi,” Jimin says, motioning to the two of you as he speaks to an enormous tour group of potential applicants and their parents. Caught in front of them, the heat suddenly rushes to your cheeks as you instinctively cover your face, embarrassed to have been pointed out by Jimin, whose amicable, lovable personality is both a blessing and a curse when it comes to his part-time job as a tour guide.

The worst part is how some of the parents and students seem to believe him for a second, that you really are famous and that Jungkook really is your photographer, looking at the two of you inquisitively as you shrink beneath their gazes.

“I’m kidding,” Jimin quickly continues as Jungkook joins you where you stand, laughing at the way you look like a deer caught in headlights. “They’re just some friends of mine who we happened to catch outside the library, which is our next stop. But don’t they look so cute together?”

“Are you guys dating?” One of the students pipes up, asking what no one else dared to.

Your eyes widen at the notion, wondering if you and Jungkook really are cursed to always be mistaken for a couple when you two have never been, and most likely will never be one. Shaking your head, you force out a laugh, “No, we’re just friends.” Beside you, Jungkook is noticeably silent. You suppose he’s gotten just as sick of explaining as you.

“Bummer, right?” Jimin asks his group, earning a couple of disappointed nods from innocent high-schoolers that still believe in love. “But I’m working on that, so don’t worry. Anyway, this library will be your main destination for studying, book-reading, and everything in between, and is conveniently located two minutes away from the freshman dorms…”

The conversation finally drawn away from you and Jungkook, you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding in. “Weird, right? Even high-schoolers think we’re together.”

Jungkook doesn’t meet your eyes, fiddling with the settings on his camera just to keep his hands busy. The quiet makes you wonder what is going on up inside his head, makes you wonder what it is he’s thinking about, what it is you’re not seeing. Lately, it’s felt like there’s something on Jungkook’s mind you wish he felt comfortable telling you.

“Hey, you alright?” You ask, giving him a little nudge with your side. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Jungkook says, voice soft, barely audible. It doesn’t make you feel any better. “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Don’t you have class soon?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right, fuck,” you say, checking your phone only to find you have barely a minute to get to your next class. Guess you’ll be using one of your allotted absences today. “Thanks for reminding me. Dinner tonight?”

“I’ll text you,” Jungkook promises, and you nod your agreement as you dash off, determined to turn a five-minute walk into a one-minute one with the power of exercise. As you leave, you watch as Jungkook flounders outside the library, staring down at his camera and scrolling through his photos, and you still find yourself feeling like you’re missing something. What is Jungkook not telling you?

What do you not know?

By the time you reach your class, two minutes late and completely out of breath, tardiness is the last thing on your mind.

This project was just meant to be a friend helping out a friend. So why does it feel like you and Jungkook are losing each other?

Using Tinder is easy. Dangerously so.

You’re no expert in app design, but its simplified “yes or no” mechanic has you swiping through people like it’s an extreme sport, barely giving some of them a second glance if their Tinder profile description doesn’t make you laugh within the first sentence.

Tinder was, admittedly, not your first choice of potential date-finding methods. Call you old-fashioned, but whatever happened to asking someone in person if they wanted to get a meal with you? To showing up at their doorstep with a rose bouquet and a toothy white grin? Perhaps all of those old-timey movies you and Jungkook always watched have given you unrealistic expectations. But can you blame them?

Even if Tinder wasn’t your first choice, it was certainly the fastest. It takes a second to look at someone’s designated Tinder thumbnail, two to read their description, and three to decide if they’re worth a swipe right. Compare that to actively meeting up with someone, getting their contact information, and then continuing to dance around each other until you finally decide to get dinner together. That’s the sort of thing that could take weeks. Maybe months. And in some cases, years.

Besides, it’s not like you had very many options at your disposal. You don’t trust Maisie to set you up with someone because she’ll probably just choose one of the many boys from her management class and call it a day. Asking someone yourself is absolutely out of the question. And, for some strange, unknown reason, the idea of getting Jungkook to hook you up with one of his friends just doesn’t sit right with you.

So, Tinder it is. And as it turns out, chivalry isn’t dead. It’s just archaic.

An hour into your mindless swiping, you get a message notification. Two hours after that, you’ve got plans with a nice senior boy whom you’ve never met.

And for the first time in a very long time, there’s something to mark on your calendar for Saturday night.

The little blue block on your Google Calendar tab stares back at you from where your open laptop sits on your desk, the red line that signifies your current time slowly inching towards it as you fumble around in front of your mirror, more dressed up than you have been in weeks. Maisie was right. It’s been so long since you’ve gone out with someone that you’ve completely forgotten what the dress code is for something like this. A dress? Heels? Makeup?

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you will anyway. What if he’s wearing a hoodie and sweats while you look like you’re about to attend the goddamn Academy Awards? Maybe the eyeshadow was a little too much.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks it’s inevitable that you do. The door to your apartment swings open, and you can hear heavy footsteps making their way to your bedroom, that easy gait of his familiar as always.

“Hey, do you think we can just get some take-out and watch a stupid old noir movie, or something? I’ve had a day,” he shouts out, the sigh audible in his voice.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you definitely have when you turn around to see Jungkook standing right outside your bedroom in the floppiest sweater you’ve ever seen and jeans with holes in the knees, mouth agape as he stares straight at you. It’s impossible not to notice the way his eyes are blown wide at the sight of you, at the way they rake up and down your figure, like he can’t even believe what he’s seeing. It’s impossible not to notice how he seems to flounder at the sight of you.

The only thing that breaks the both of you out of your stupors, frozen in place like two criminals caught red-handed, is the sound of his hulking black backpack thudding to the floor.

“Whoa.”

“Do you think it’s too much?” You ask, voice wobbly. God, why are you so nervous? It’s just Jungkook.

“Too much for what?” Jungkook blinks, deliberate and slow, as if he’s determined to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. “Where are you going?”

“I think we’ll have to do a raincheck for the noir movie and takeout,” you say sheepishly, pursing your lips together in fright as you force out a small, tense smile. “I’m… going out. With someone.”

“Like,” Jungkook begins, and even from here you can hear the way he stops himself, hear him breathe out every word, thick on his tongue. “On a date?”

“Yeah.”

It’s a one-syllable word and yet it takes nearly all of your willpower just to say it. Just to confirm what Jungkook’s already thinking. Just to tell him, your best friend, your ride or die, your number one, that you’re going out on a date.

“Oh.” Jungkook’s voice is lifeless. “Do I know them?”

“No, uh, it’s just some guy I met on Tinder. I don’t know, I just wanted to see what all the hype was about, I guess. And I haven’t really been on a date in a while, so I figured I might just take up the opportunity, so we’re probably just going to go out to a restaurant and maybe go to a club afterwards if we’re still in the mood, and—” You cut yourself off, so nervous that you’ve resorted to your terrible habit of rambling to try and ease the tension. “Why? Do you think it’s too much?”

“You use Tinder?” Jungkook asks instead. It sounds like he’s shocked to hear this.

“Yeah…” you trail off. “Why?”

Jungkook freezes at the question, but it’s not because it seems like he doesn’t have an answer. It’s because it seems like he does. Only it’s an answer he doesn’t want to share.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he eventually settles on, shaking his head. “You, uh, you look good.”

“You think? I feel like it’s a lot. I don’t know how to dress appropriately for stuff like this anymore,” you ask, palms sweaty as you furiously straighten out the skirt of your dress. “Should I change into pants, or anything?”

“No, no, I think that’s fine,” Jungkook says with an honest smile. “You look nice like this.”

“It’s probably been like, a year since you last saw me in a dress,” you comment mindlessly, turning back to face the mirror as you fiddle with your makeup, finger wiping away a bit of smudged lipstick or a stray bit of mascara. “I miss my sweats. Hey, whoa, wait, what are you doing—?”

You whip around to find Jungkook slowly fishing out the camera from his backpack, hand gripping it tightly as he brandishes it in front of you.

“I, um, I just wanted to see if I could maybe take a photo of you,” Jungkook says, a small, little grin decorating his features. “Since you’re all dressed up.”

“Seriously?” You ask in disbelief.

Jungkook nods, holding the camera out in front of him. “Just one.”

He looks so small, standing across your bedroom. He looks so small and delicate and intimate, body curled in on itself ever so slightly as he looks at you, the yellow glow of your ceiling light reflected in his hazelnut eyes, drowning beneath his clothes. He looks like he has never seen a moment more perfect, never seen an opportunity as clear, looks like he thinks that if he blinks he’ll miss it.

Looks as if a photo will be the only way to remember it.

And you nod. Because he is your best friend, and who are you to deny him of something so simple? Of a press of a button? It doesn’t feel like a project anymore. It just feels like a memory.

Jungkook brings the camera to his eye, and you smile at him, soft and gentle and warm. He grins back, focusing the camera lens before snapping away.

You wonder what he sees.

(You wonder if it’s as beautiful as what you see.)

“Have fun tonight, okay?” Jungkook asks of you as your Google Calendar notification sounds, letting you know you have approximately two minutes before he’s supposed to pick you up outside your apartment.

You nod. “I will. And if I don’t, then I’ll come over afterwards. And we can watch that stupid noir film.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes, a shrug of his shoulders.

“But I want to. So I will. Okay? I’ll text you,” you promise. “Don’t think I’ll forget about you.”

Jungkook smiles at your little tease, at the way you cup the side of his jaw with your hand as you head towards your front door.

“Wait, Y/N,” Jungkook sputters out, running after you. He reaches you right as you get to the door, hand grasping the doorknob. You turn to look at him, blinking. “I hope tonight is everything you dreamed of.”

There is something so distinctly sad in his voice. It makes you wonder who has broken his heart. Makes you wonder what you can do to fix it.

“Even if it’s not,” you say to him, taking his hand in your own and squeezing it tight, reminding him that, no matter what, you’re still here. “I know you’ll always be there to take care of me afterwards.”

Your phone buzzes with a message from your date, and you scurry out the door.

For some reason, there’s a part of you that wishes you never even left.

The date is okay. Not bad, but nothing to write home about. By the time you finished eating, it was obvious neither of you had any interest in continuing the night elsewhere, whether it be a club or a karaoke bar. He pays for your meal despite your insistence that you can handle the check perfectly fine on your own, thanks you for a nice night, and drops you right back at your apartment. And so goes your one and only Tinder experience, blowing away like a leaf in the wind.

You look down at your phone. It isn’t even nine o’clock yet.

[November 7th, 8:48PM]

You: you still game for that movie?

[November 7th, 8:50PM]

Jungkook: you finished your date already?

You: is that a yes or a no

Jungkook: my door is always open, you know that

You: you’re gonna get robbed one day and it’s gonna be by me You: i’m coming over

The walk from your apartment to Jungkook’s is six minutes and thirty seconds on a good day, and seven minutes and fifteen seconds on a bad day, which is usually dependent on if the traffic light over the main road has decided to be extra slow or not. You could walk the damn route in your sleep if you really wanted, having done it so many times in the last year and a half, ever since he moved out of on-campus housing and into his own place.

Tonight, it takes you nearly eight minutes to get to his apartment, but you mostly chalk that up to the heels you’re wearing. If you cared any less about your dignity, you’d probably take them off and walk barefoot like a defeated heroine in a romance movie, shoes dangling from your fingers as they hang low by your side.

But you aren’t defeated. You didn’t have the world’s most spectacular date, but the night isn’t over just yet.

Jungkook’s waiting at his front door by the time you arrive.

“Eight minutes, huh? You’re getting old,” he asks snidely, looking down at the invisible watch on his wrist.

“Your counting is just off,” you retort easily, falling into that same friendly rhythm, that familiar little beat that the two of you share. You push past him and into his apartment, instantly feeling more at home, shoulders sinking and heartbeat soothing as you soak in the scent of his room, of his home, of him.

“How’d it go?” Jungkook asks, eyes hopeful as they watch you tug off your heels. They were hardly three inches tall and yet you still want nothing to do with them.

You shrug. “Eh. It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Jungkook asks, sounding seriously upset for you. Upset that you didn’t have a good night even after you promised him that you would. Upset that it didn’t turn out to be everything you wanted.

“I don’t know,” you admit, looking over at him, dejected. “It just—I just had this feeling that it wasn’t going to work out.”

Jungkook scowls to himself, eyebrows furrowing like he’s trying to figure out what exactly you mean by that. And the truth is, you’re not sure either. The date was fine, and he was nice, but even when you first met it felt like you weren’t going to get what you wanted from him. Like you were just going on the date to go on the date. Like you already knew that it would mean nothing.

Jungkook was going to be waiting for you at the end of the night whether it went amazingly well or terribly bad. And knowing that, strangely enough, almost made you want the date to be horrible. Like it would make seeing Jungkook afterwards that much sweeter.

“Oh,” Jungkook says lamely. “Well, I’m sorry. It seemed like you were really looking forward to it.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him. “Can we just watch this movie now and make fun of how sexist it is? Please?”

To that, Jungkook easily agrees. As he’s queueing up the movie, you raid his closet for a hoodie and sweatpants, desperate to strip yourself of your dress and tights and cozy up in clothes that are much more appropriate for your comfort level. At this point in your friendship, Jungkook doesn’t even question it when he sees you march into his room, fishing through his closet and drawers for your favorite matching set of his, this grey pair that he’s worn so much it still smells like him even after it’s come right out of the wash.

He only stares back in awe when he sees you emerge from his bedroom wearing them.

“Ready?” You ask, breaking him from his resolve.

Jungkook blinks wildly from where he’s seated on his dinky old couch, as if to clear his vision. “What? Oh, yeah, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Then hurry it up, Mister,” you demand, sitting down next to him and curling into his body. It’s instinctual, at this point, wanting to be close to him. To feel the warmth of his body radiate upon your own. To feel his chest beneath the palm of your hands, his arm wrapped around your side. “All good?” You ask, looking up at him.

Jungkook looks down at you, and you swear, you’ve never seen him more at home. “Always, when I’m with you.”

The movie is predictably good and predictably sexist, but your favorite part by far is when Jungkook reaches around on the coffee table in front of you for his camera, holding it up to his eye and snatching a picture of the television, the film grainy like an old polaroid, faded like an antique photograph. He clicks away at the scene in front of him before turning on you, the lens so close to your face you’re almost certain all he’ll manage to capture is your nose. You laugh, pushing yourself away from him as he snaps, and snaps, and snaps, image after image after image, until his camera battery has died and there’s no more room left on his card.

“Guess I’ll have to charge this thing, then,” Jungkook sighs as he declares his camera dead, screen black.

“You aren’t going to include any of those, are you?” You ask, an eyebrow raised.

Jungkook shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Don’t you have enough?” You deadpan, thinking back to the hundreds of photos Jungkook must have taken of you over the past week, and even more that you don’t know about. There’s certainly no shortage of them in his current camera inventory. That’s for sure.

“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. He stretches out an open arm, and you don’t have to think twice about falling into it, letting him wrap you up in his hold, curling into his body.

The black television screen crackles before you, DVD player waiting for Jungkook to turn it off. There’s no need for either of you to look up at each other. Not when you’re strung together like this. Not when you already know exactly where he is.

“It’s due on Monday, right?” You inquire softly, fatigue slowly overtaking you.

“Yeah. I’m almost finished, just have to do some curating and editing.”

“I want to see it.”

“What? My project?”

“What else?”

“It’s just a project, it’s not that exciting.”

You pull away from him at that, looking up at him with furrowed brows and scrunched-up nose. “What do you mean ‘it’s not that exciting’? It’s your photography project. You’ve spent a whole week working on it.”

“Yeah, but it’s just you, you know?” Jungkook objects. “Like, you know what you look like. It’s just going to be a bunch of photos of you, like I said it’d be.”

“That’s exactly why I want to see it,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You took pictures of me for a whole week. Don’t you want to share them with me?”

“If you really want some of the photos, I’ll send you some, but you don’t need to see the whole portfolio, you know? It’s just for my professor,” Jungkook says stiffly, surprisingly resistant. What’s the big deal? It’s not like there will suddenly be new information about you that you didn’t know before. You want to see what Jungkook has been working tirelessly on this entire week. Where’s the harm in that?

“Why are you getting so hung up on this? It’s just photos,” you say with a frown.

“Why are you getting so hung up on this?” Jungkook challenges back.

You sigh, sinking back into him, defeated. Even a little disagreement like that is enough to knock the wind out of the both of you, so you decide not to push it much further.

“Do you promise to show me eventually?” You ask, hopeful.

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you almost expect him to say no, considering how protective of his work he’s being. “One day,” he declares. “One day, I will.”

And that’s good enough for you.

You lose track of how much time passes after that, feeling your eyelids getting heavy as the warmth of his body envelopes you, drowsiness settling in. There’s just something about this moment, right here, right now, that makes you want to fall asleep.

You’re on the verge of slumber when Jungkook’s voice breaks through.

“Why didn’t you think your date would work out?”

“I don’t know,” you respond sleepily, barely even opening your eyes. “It just felt wrong.”

“How do you know what feels right?”

Good question. Perhaps if you had the energy, you’d answer it. But right now, all you can think about is how cozy you feel in Jungkook’s hoodie and sweatpants, how the scent of him surrounds you, that indescribable, boyish aroma that can’t be replicated. Right now, all you can think about is how easily your body molds into his, like two pieces of a puzzle meant to fit together. Right now, all you can think about is him.

The worst part about each and every week is when it ends. Because the end of one week signifies the beginning of the next, and when you’re in university, the beginning of the next week means a whole new batch of assignments that you have to complete and a whole new batch of due dates to meet.

So, yeah. The weeks have been blurring together for you lately. But what else could you expect?

Sunday evening, as per usual, finds you right back where you always are: Jungkook’s apartment.

The two of you have been regularly getting together on Sundays to study, ever since you both realized you work significantly harder when motivated by the other, determined to finish all of your work on time so you can spend the rest of the night fooling around by mixing Monster with as many unhealthy drinks that you can possibly think of. And it’s been working out well for the both of you so far. Jungkook powers through his coding assignments and you whiz through your readings, intent on keeping up to date with your tasks so they don’t all come crashing down on you at the end of the semester.

Studying with Jungkook has always been easy, largely due to the fact that it’s the one allotted time during your friendship where the both of you deem it best to not speak to each other for the sake of your work. The moment one of you opens your mouth it’s over, so you sit on opposite ends of the room and pretend that the other person isn’t even there.

Jungkook told you earlier today that he had already finished his photography portfolio, so there would unfortunately be no sneaky glances over his shoulder to see if you can catch a glimpse of one of the pictures. Which is fine by you, you’re just a little embarrassed that Jungkook had told you this outright. Not that you were planning to do exactly that, but you were planning to do exactly that.

Part of you. more than anything, wants to know why Jungkook won’t just show you himself. Why he’s being so secretive, so protective of his photography project when you both know already exactly what’s in it. For God’s sake, he just spent the entire week taking photos of you non-stop. It’s like not as if any part of this is a mystery to either of you. What more could he have done?

Whatever. You aren’t going to force it if he doesn’t want you to. You suppose that maybe one day, far into the future, he’ll finally decide that the time is right.

“I’m so fucking tired,” Jungkook declares lifelessly as he gets up from where he’s sitting on your bed, dead inside. “I need a break.”

“Are you going to the kitchen? Can you make me some tea, please?” You ask him, looking up from the laptop on your desk.

Jungkook nods wordlessly before disappearing out of the room.

You and Jungkook’s best study practice to maximize productivity is the taking of each other’s cell phones so that the other cannot be tempted to look at it. It’s worked plenty of times before and will probably work plenty of times again, because as they say, out of sight, out of mind.

Unfortunately, it’s hard to pretend that your phone is out of sight when it’s been buzzing on your bedside table for the past five minutes, and your fingers have been itching to get over there and answer your damn notifications. So, while Jungkook is out of the room, you decide to cheat a little by dashing over there just to see what the heck is going on in the rest of the world.

As it turns out, nothing much. Just Maisie texting you as she binges yet another television show, giving spoiler-free updates anytime anything remotely dramatic happens. You have a couple of new emails as well.

The thing that actually catches your attention the most, is Jungkook’s laptop screen.

There’s just a Word document open on it, but a Word document is a far cry from his usual coding program or Photoshop. Because you can’t help yourself, you peer over to see what he’s written.

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Hard to say that I have. I don’t think I learned something about myself so much as I confirmed what I already knew, cementing it as a real thought in my brain, rather than just a daydream. Nothing changed in the way that my best friend and I interacted, and I can almost confirm that nothing changed in the way that she feels about me, just as nothing changed in the way I feel about her. I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her.

What?

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Not as a reference but to remind myself of this very moment in my life—a single week over the course of my life that I felt was worth saving. I imagine that there will come a time, far in the future, where my best friend and I have separated a little bit, found our own lives and created our own families with our own people. And when that happens, I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now.

This feels personal. Maybe you should stop reading. But there’s just one more question left on the page…

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. If it meant getting to spend more time with her, take more photos of her, see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over.

“Y/N?”

You hadn’t even heard the kettle whistling.

“Jungkook,” you say, breathless, caught red-handed.

“What are you doing?” He asks, placing your steaming cup of tea down on the desk as he stares back at you in horror, in surprise, in worry, in something. Something that gives you this imminent sense of impending doom.

“Uh—”

“Were you reading my computer screen?”

It’s not like you could say you were doing anything else.

“I couldn’t help myself, I came over here to check my phone since it’s been buzzing like crazy and your computer was right there and I just…” you sputter out, thoughts swirling inside your head.

(I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now.

If it meant getting to see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over.

I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her.)

“What do you mean, how you feel about me?” You ask, because you can’t help yourself. Because the sound of his voices echoes in your head like the beat of a drum, over and over and over. Because you’re staring back at him and even if he just caught you snooping through his computer you can never be worried when it comes to him. Because everything he has ever done puts you at ease.

“Y/N, that is private, why would you read something like that?” He asks, each word a sucker punch into your heart.

“Because I just had to know, okay?” You shout back. “I had to know what you were hiding from me.”

“So you decided to snoop through my computer to see if you could figure it out yourself?” He demands, storming over to you.

“So you are hiding something?”

“That’s not the point, the point is that—”

“What are you not telling me, Jungkook?” You cry out, watching as he approaches you, dark eyes piercing your gaze. “Why won’t you show me your goddamn portfolio? If there’s really nothing to be afraid of, why are you keeping it from me? I’m your best friend, I’m the fucking subject of your project? Don’t I deserve to see it? Why won’t you show me?”

“Because then you’d know!” Jungkook shouts back, leaving deafening silence in his wake. You look up at him, blinking. In front of you, Jungkook is out of breath, chest heaving.

He looks so strained. So tired. Like he’s been carrying around this secret for months now, maybe even years, and this is the final straw. This is what has sent the both of you crashing down upon each other. This stupid fucking project. You’ve known Jungkook ever since the beginning of your freshman year, and never before have you seen him so hopeless.

“Jungkook—?”

“You’d know, goddamnit,” Jungkook says, hand coming up to rub at his forehead, dragging down his cheek. “And I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.”

“Know what? What would I know?”

Jungkook closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. Opens them again. “That I’m in love with you.”

The words drift in between the two of you, hovering in the air like feathers. You see them, clear as day, in front of you, hear them echoing in your head, over and over and over again. Feel the way your blood is pumping, the way your heart is beating.

“You’re in love with me?” You ask him.

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” Jungkook admits. “Or at all, really. But I have been, for a while now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was afraid that I’d lose you.”

You chuckle, a small, little thing from the back of your throat. “You must have known I’d never let that happen, hmm?”

Jungkook smiles softly. “I was scared. Can you blame me? You’re my best friend.”

“And you are mine,” you remind him.

“It’s just—” Jungkook begins, like the gates of a dam are opening up. “We’d known each other for so long, and we have such a good thing going as is, always texting and calling and hanging out together, studying together on Sunday nights and seeing each other during the week, and I didn’t want to ruin anything. And then my professor assigned this project, and the only person I could think of to take photos was you, but I didn’t want to ask that of you in case you thought it was weird, but you suggested it anyway so I said yes, but I knew. I knew then that the moment I took one goddamn photo of you it would be obvious, and that if you ever saw you would just know. Stuff like that is easy to pick up in pictures, because a camera is like, tunnel vision for whatever it is you want to focus on most, and that’s you, that’s always been you, so I—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, reaching out to him, pressing a soft hand to his cheek. “Just, shut up, okay?”

And then you cup his head in both of your hands, and press a kiss to his lips. A small one, if nothing else, but a kiss nonetheless. You press your lips against his own and immediately you feel the sparks rush through you, this flash of heat that settles into something softer, something sweeter. It ignites and soothes you all at once, like a stray lightning bolt out on the open ocean. Like a single clap of thunder and the pitter patter of rain.

You press a kiss to his lips and when you pull away, Jungkook’s eyes are closed, lips parted ever so slightly. And for a moment there, you almost think you did the wrong thing.

But barely a second more passes before he’s scooping you up in his arms and pulling you in close to him, his lips finding yours like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. He holds you tight, hands pressed against the small of your back as he kisses you, warm and fiery and full, as if he can’t get enough, as if this is his only chance. You gasp into it before relaxing in his hold, cold hands on his warm cheeks, body melting at the feeling of him, of him all over you, of his hands and his mouth and his chest, this perfect, solid figure.

He kisses you and it sends heat shooting through your body, filling you up from the inside out, like your heart has burst and filled your bloodstream with fire, with sparks of warmth that tingle all over. He kisses you, and everywhere his hands press is another sizzle to your skin, an electric shock that makes you giggle into his mouth.

He kisses you and it feels like a storm has settled, feels like gentle rain after a hurricane, feels like waves crashing against the shore. He kisses you and it is the only thing you can think about.

By the time you part once more, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Jungkook so blissed out.

“See?” You point out softly. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

Jungkook looks positively dazed. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Ooh, was I that good?” You tease.

“I’m dreaming.” He shakes his head. “I’m definitely fucking dreaming.”

Jungkook sinks onto your bed, hitting the mattress with a thud. He stares mindlessly in front of him, like his brain needs time to process.

You smile to yourself. He can have all the time in the world.

“Is this real?” He mumbles when you sit down next to him, press another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Are you real?”

“Just like you,” you promise him. “I didn’t know this is what we had been missing, all this time.”

“It wasn’t missing,” Jungkook assures you. “It was just hidden.”

“I love you,” you whisper, watching him swallow the words like a glass of wine. “I think I always have. You just needed to say it first.”

“Oblivious as always.” Jungkook grins, smiling against your lips. “But I’m glad. If this is what it would take, then I’m glad.”

“You wouldn’t change anything?” You ask him, eyes wide and curious.

It’s hard to know how long you and Jungkook have been secretly pining over each other. Hard to know how long Jungkook has known that he’s loved you, how long it’s been since you started to feel the same, even if subconsciously. It’s hard to know how long you would have kept going if not for this project. It might have been months. Years. Years that Jungkook was willing to spend holding back, if only it meant keeping you by his side.

“No,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest answer in the world. “I have you now. Why would I?”

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Previously, I had responded to this question by saying that I hadn’t learned anything, and felt that nothing changed in my life. Then, some things happened. And after those things, I learned that I am the luckiest man alive. To know my best friend is one thing. To love her is a privilege. To have her love me back is nothing less than a miracle.

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Every day for the rest of my life. I don’t think I’ve ever been as thankful to receive a homework assignment as I am, right now. I owe everything to this project. It is the reason I have her.

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. I want to take photos of her for the rest of my life. I want to save every memory we ever share together. So that far into the future, we can look back on them together and say, “Remember that?”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #w: the love project #yes i am finishing this at 6am on the day its meant to be posted... MIND UR OWN BUSINESS

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violettelueur · 3 years

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— ITADORI YUJI + FUSHIGURO MEGUMI + GOJO SATORU + NANAMI KENTO || CELEBRATING THEIR S/O’S BIRTHDAY

↳ featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + gojo satoru + nanami kento from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : grammar issues

↳ form : headcanons

↳ published : 30 january

↳ pronouns : non specified in headcanon

↳ request : Hi! I'm so happy to see you're accepting requests again! I really love reading your work, it helps me de-stress ^_^ Could I request headcanons for s/o's birthday celebration with gojo, nanami, itadori, and fushiguro? (Like who'd be the type to throw a surprise party, schedule a date or a little trip, and what kind of gift would they give, etc. Anything about how they would celebrate their s/o's birthday) Thank you and I hope you have a great day <3

↳ barista’s notes : so....i’m not ready for the manga at all guys, like it is going to be updated in a good 36 hours but like i don’t think i can ever prepare myself at all...i...am...terrified .... ʕ ﾟ ● ﾟʔ BUT other than that, i hope you enjoy your cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and come again soon ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ

Itadori is the type to have a surprise party for you since he thinks that having your birthday with your friends and loved ones is the best way to celebrate.

Of course, he has to convince a few people since it can’t just be him by himself celebrating the surprise.

To be honest, it wasn’t hard to convince Fushiguro, Kugisaki, Gojo and Todo because it’s them. The second-years wouldn’t take much either since you are their friend. But, Nanami took a while to open up with the idea since Nanami isn’t the type to outwardly celebrate things like Itadori does.

Everyone helps with the decorations and setting up everything while Itadori is the one that is cooking the food with Fushiguro - because cooking buddies~

I like to think that Itadori can bake since he can cook - so he does make your cake for you.

Please just know that Kugisaki is taking charge of decorations because it’s just her forte.

Since he probably was away for the whole day preparing the surprise for you, you would probably be walking around the school trying to find him, only for your other classmates Fushiguro and Kugisaki to appear right in front of your face.

They will probably blindfold you with no explanation with Kugisaki dragging you by the arms while Fushiguro holds your back to make sure you don’t bump into anything at all.

When your blindfold is taken off, expect to be in a dark room with everyone right in front of you while itadori is holding a cake right in front of you as they sing ‘happy birthday’.

After the whole song and you blowing out the candles, the lights will suddenly turn on and BAM we got a game night tournament of Mario Kart insight.

A whole whiteboard is prepared to see who is versing who with drinks and more snacks prepared for the night.

At the end of the night, Itadori will mostly likely give you a plush that you’ve been looking at since a mission that you both went on - he took a photo because he knows he will forget about it.

Overall, it’s a pretty energetic night you will spend with everyone as they are hyped up to win the whole game night, but the fact that you got to celebrate with your boyfriend and your friends is the main point here.

Unlike Itadori, Fushiguro would want to celebrate your birthday with just both of you alone together.

Fushiguro will probably plan out a whole date for you and will probably make something for you rather than buying something - maybe he will add a bouquet of flowers.

In the morning (if he can cook), Fushiguro will cook breakfast for you and if you are still in bed after he has finished, expect breakfast in bed because he wants to make the day perfect for you.

When it comes to your birthday, it really depends on what season it is in when he plans something.

If it’s during the spring/summer season, he will take you to the park to have a picnic together since it's a time where it’s not too warm but not too cold (depends on the day) - so it’s a perfect balance.

If it’s during the autumn/winter, he will take you somewhere warm like a cafe or go view the Christmas lights since a lot of warm street food will be prepared and that’s the best time to eat as much as you want.

After a peaceful day out, he would give you his gift when you get back to his dorm - it will be personal and it’s probably handmade like an embroidered jumper or knitted scarf, so cherish it.

And if other students have given you a gift, he would hand his last since he’s a bit shy after seeing everyone else’s gifts they have handed you.

The day before, he had prepared your favourite cake from the closest bakery and it will be a small one since it’s just you and him together - he will turn off the lights to make the candles glow your face.

Just know he is secretly taking pictures and a few videos since you have a bright smile on your face since who wouldn’t smile? Your smile is his favourite thing about you.

Overall, your birthday is a personal one with Fushiguro, it’s something that he wants to make perfect and make you the happiest since it is your special day.

Gojo will make sure everyone knows it is your birthday - and I mean EVERYONE, even people from the Kyoto side of Jujutsu Tech.

Of course, he would inform the first years - Fushiguro probably already knows your birthday - and Itadori and Kugisaki will be surprised since this was such a late notice for them to get you anything.

A week or month before your birthday, Gojo will have spent so much money on gifts on you without your realising since he is somehow got at hiding things away from you - since he can disappear and appear in a span of one second.

A few days prior to your birthday, you would find gifts being left around your dorm with random notes attached to them with cute drawings on them.

Let me admit, some of the gifts will be joke gifts like a pregnancy test - hints - or his glasses, and he will come up behind you and say “oh that’s where they were, thank you, baby~.”

Of course, when the gifts are proper gifts, they are fancy as hell since Gojo doesn’t have a budget when it comes to you - he wants to spoil you rotten.

When it comes to your actual birthday, Gojo will be glued to your side since he wants to spend the whole day with you celebrating.

Gojo will be extra affectionate then he would usually be. In the morning, he wants morning cuddles and you’ll probably begin the day with a whole makeout and in the afternoon, he will wrap his arms around your shoulders while whispering sweet nothings to you while giving you a few pecks here and there.

He will take you out to so many dessert places to the point where you get a tiny bit sugar sick but he will also invite the first year to have lunch with you since he knows how much you love them.

When it comes to your cake and candle blowing, except Gojo to wipe some of the whipped cream on your face because he is just a tease and will lick it off of you - disgustingly cute.

Overall, Gojo will be sickly sweet and teasing towards you during your birthday and prior to that, he just wants you to be excited since it is rare that you both get to spend time together during a special occasion like this and he just wants you to be in complete bliss.

Like Fushiguro, Nanami is someone that will want to celebrate your birthday peacefully and with only you and him together.

I know Nanami is more of the classy type and will probably book a reservation to your favourite fancy restaurant since this is one of the only times where you can enjoy your favourite meal there.

Gift wise, Nanami will make sure it is something special and elegant since he wants to give you something memorable since the life of a sorcerer is unpredictable.

Probably a matching watch with his, maybe a simple silver band ring or a bracelet - it is scary how the gift fits really well on you like it’s not too loose or too tight. Nanami has the eyes for detail.

However, if he gives you a necklace just know he will put it on for you - and if you feel him touch you anywhere on your neck, I bet you would shiver~

When you get to the restaurant, just know that you and Nanami are dressed to the nines - like damn, don’t you both look good?

Candlelit dinner, glasses of red wine, delicious food and a handsome man right in front of you, what more do you want?

When it comes to the end of your dinner, he would have already asked the restaurant for the cake and they will hand it to you with the silver globe and everything - most likely a sweet chocolate cake with strawberries.

When you get home, Nanami will be somewhat more affectionate and will give you a few deep breathless kisses here and there while cuddling you when you and him are on the couch/sofa - you on his lap of course

When though you both went out it’s nice to be at home with just you and him leading to a deep conversation about the future, a family, vacation, wedding and many other things.

Overall, your birthday with Nanami with is soothing and calm, there is a hint of suggestiveness due to the setting but in reason, he wants you to be the main focus since it is the anniversary of the day you were born and he can’t but appreciate you.

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th0mas1ut · 3 years

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ғᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴀɪᴋʏᴜᴜ ʙᴏʏs

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑘𝑢𝑟𝑜𝑜, 𝑎𝑡𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑢, 𝑏𝑜𝑘𝑢𝑡𝑜, 𝑜𝑖𝑘𝑎𝑤𝑎

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡

㋡ 𝑔𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑠; 𝑎𝑠𝑘 𝑏𝑜𝑥; 𝑛𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑔𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛; + 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 : @𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑧

☼ KUROO

➥ falling in love with kuroo is like smelling freshly brewed coffee; it's sending a text and getting a reply within seconds; smiling in the middle of your chemistry class because no one teaches you this stuff better than him; it’s falling asleep in his lap when he reads to you; bringing him lunch at work and struggling to walk to the door after you leave because he just missed you; having study sessions that are just an excuse for making out; becoming putty in his arms after a long day; it's keeping the first coffee cup he ever bought for you on a date; it's brushing his hair for him, trying to get it to defy it's natural state; it's calling him tetsu and watching him hide his face in your neck; laying with him and listening to his heavy breaths.

➥ kuroo falling in love with you is facetiming you asking if you need help even though he knows you don't, and talking so far into the night that he can't remember why he called you in the first place but it doesn't matter; it's seeing you in his jacket and feeling a rush of feral possessiveness; watching you smile with a glow and wearing this dazed expression on his face, belting out your favorite toon in the car with you when you feel insecure about your voice; trying to braid your hair while you both watch tv just cause, having a hard day at work and then getting to see you when you bring his lunch; it's listening to you talk about your favorite book even though he’s barely paying attention because he’s so lost in your beautiful eyes and soothing voice; it's making you flushed with his special smile but then blushing when you tease him back; it's watching you sleep, because he's looking at his future.

☼ ATSUMU

➥ falling in love with atsumu is like plunging into the deep end without knowing how to swim; it’s jeering at him while he's serving because he’s a pampered brat as you watch with a smug smile when he makes that face at you; it’s arguing with him about anything and everything just to rile him up; it's calling him sangwoo but dying his hair for him anyway; passionate frustrated kisses because he pisses you off and but he kisses you too damn well; showing up to every game even though you always tell him you’ll just think about it; getting lost in his glowing smile when he talks about setting, bright and radiant with happiness; it's making fun of him with osamu and then babying him after when he's whining about it; trying to cook with him but then eventually just begging osamu to make the two of you something; competing at the most mundane things, like who can get the tv remote first; it's kissing him before and after a game for good luck; it's calling him when he's away for volleyball and falling asleep with the phone on.

➥ atsumu falling in love with you; it’s moaning when you run your hands through his hair and then pull on it, driving him mad, it's having you wear a necklace that has his initials on it to remind him that you’re his; making fun of you when you watch rom-coms and then wailing like a baby at the end; it's trolling you at the most random times because he loves it when you get feisty; looking for you in the stands immediately after he makes a great set to see if you're feeling what he's feeling; driving with no destination as his hand rests on your thigh lovingly; going on the best dates at 3am and then nearly getting arrested; sending you funny tik toks when he's sitting next to you because he wants to hear you laugh; being driven insane when you wear that special outfit for him; simping over anything you post and bragging in the comments that you're his queen; holding you tightly close at night and vowing to himself he’ll never let you go.

☼ BOKUTO

➥ falling in love with bokuto is like the first bite of popsicle on a hot summer day; it's watching mukbangs with him and promising to do one together one day; helping akaashi hype him up before a big game; always somehow catching his attention when he goes into emo mode during a game and perking him right back up; it's gelling his hair for him in the morning cause he says you do it best, working out with him but ending up just watching him the whole time; always ending up in his arms because he gives the best bear hugs; raking your nails on his muscle woven back when he already wants to go for another round; holding his thicc arm as you walk down the street in the morning; it's kissing him at the top of the ferris wheel; laughing so hard with him that you collapse on the floor in tears; letting him be the little spoon about 80 percent of the time; it's calling him bo and watching him giggle with giddiness; wearing his hoodies, stretched out from his wide shoulders, sometimes with nothing else on; scolding him when he forgets to do him homework but helping him study after with promised cuddles. it's watching him running over to you after a game and lifting your up in his air, making your smile with the spirit of a child.

➥ bokuto loving you is: giving you piggy back rides and running really fast, trying to compete with kuroo; having his entire photo album on his phone be full of pictures of you, most of them taken when you weren't looking; it's blowing up the kitchen just to make you a birthday cake and then having akaashi bring one to save the day; looking for you in the crowd after each and every spike because your joy is the only thing that matters; it's marking up the inside of your thighs and making you oh so sensitive; calling you puppy and baby; stealing kisses from you whenever your distracted; sometimes stretching out his emo mode because he wants your attention; hugging you as much as possible because your arms wrapped around him make him feel the best; praising you so much while he makes you feel good that you almost start crying; it's cuddling you in the bathtub with your bodies melding perfectly and everything just feeling right.

☼ OIKAWA

➥ falling in love with oikawa is like discovering a part of a galaxy that was always there, but you just never knew it existed; it's seeing him talking to a girl and feeling a pang in your chest; accidently dropping your pencil and flushing when he picks it up, flashing his charming smile; it's watching him at a game and being unable to look away from his form in motion, noticing him frowning after an amazing serve when he thinks no one is looking; seeing him break down after his last game of his high school career and holding on to him the tightest you ever have, your hands wrapped around his middle; it's telling him that he's precious to you, because no matter how much he pretends he loves himself you know; it's going on scavengers hunts to crazy places because he swears there was a ufo sighting there, building a planetarium for his room so there are stars on his ceiling, it's listening to music with him on the subway with his blue headphones, hiding your face in his chest while watching those alien movies; going on shopping sprees where he tells your every outfit you put on is gorgeous.

➥ oikawa falling in love with you: it's like tearing off a band aid, the one on his heart; it's being able to cry in front of someone other than iwaizumi for the first time; being held so close to him that your bodies are practically one; it's buying you a cake, and smearing some of it on your face so he can taste the cream on your lips; it's professing his affection for you like a lovestruck fool after a glass of wine or two; it's watching the calendar change month by month and looking next to him to see that you're still here; it's biting the inside of your ankle as he pulls it over his shoulder; taking photo's of you like you're having a whole photo shoot and helping you get that perfect shot; it's rooftop dinners and kissing him passionately under the stars; it's exactly like the first day of spring, when the last of the snow begins to melt; his insecurities, fleeting and withering away because you're the sun, and his star, and he needs like the air he needs to breath.

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juniorgman187 · 3 years

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Sleight of Hand (Reid Fic)

Summary: Practical Joker Reader makes the unsuspecting naive Dr. Reid the object of her most recent prank - stealing his ID badge. Category: Pure Fluff, Drabble, One Shot Pairing: Platonic Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: Super brief mentioning of dark nature of job, prank Word Count: 2k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Despite what anyone else may believe, or what my resting face may convey, I’m not a mean person. I don’t take pleasure in people’s pain, and I certainly don’t intend to hurt anyone.

With that being said - I do thoroughly enjoy messing with people from time to time. Which, in my opinion, is a completely different thing than being mean.

At work, I’m known for pulling harmless pranks. Keyword: harmless. The dark nature that surrounds our job can consume us whole if we let it, and if anyone needs a good laugh here and there, it’s the BAU. Sometimes we all just need reminders that life shouldn’t be taken so seriously, and my silly antics are just the remedy.

A window of opportunity for my most recent practical joke presented itself when I was packing up to leave for the day.

Right across my desk was Reid’s and to my right was Derek’s, but at the moment, Reid was parked at the kitchenette, diligently stirring his coffee and copious amounts of sugar packets together while Derek’s head was buried six feet deep in paperwork. I could tell they would both be in for a long night and I didn’t envy them for that.

“Alright, I’m out!” I announced to them both, but before I could actually get far, Derek stopped me.

“Wait, (y/n)! Hold up,” He sat up from his chair to reach me with an outstretched arm. “Can you put this back on Reid’s desk?”

I blinked hard when he tossed an object at me, so only after I caught it did I open my eyes and realize it was just a pen.

“Wow. Lazy much?” I scoffed, gesturing to Reid’s desk that was less than seven feet away. Derek was probably exerting more effort into stretching out his arm like that to give me the pen as opposed to if he just got off his butt and walked to the desk himself.

“Pleaseee,” He partially begged, causing me to roll my eyes and replace the pen dutifully. As I slipped the pen into its rightful spot in his little cup of writing utensils, something caught my eye.

Lightbulb!

Just sitting there on Spencer’s desk was his badge. It was so carelessly placed in comparison to everything else on the table that had been situated in such a carefully, almost calculated, manner.

I knew Spencer had a habit of taking it off at the end of the day, but it baffled me just how flippantly he treated it. I figured he coveted his badge, but his haphazard placement of it suggested otherwise, while simultaneously showing his humanity to me. He wasn’t so cookie-cutter perfect after all, he could be messy, too.

It was that epiphany that almost made me not want to tamper with it, but it was my own humor that pushed me to do it anyway.

Maybe it’s time Spencer learned a lesson, rather than being the one to teach it.

If he was going to just let this thing lie around like it was nothing, then how would he react if it wasn’t there at all?

I slyly looked up from the badge and to Spencer, whose back was still turned to me in the kitchen and then to Derek, who was too focused on his work to even notice that I was still here. Fully taking advantage of Spencer’s oblivion and the lack of a witness in Derek, I slipped the ID swiftly into my purse. Even if Derek wasn’t the type to be a snitch, it was better that absolutely no one knew.

Less than a millisecond after successfully concealing the badge within my bag, Spencer finally turned around and saw me lingering by his desk.

“What are you still doing here?” He asked with the slightest bit of suspicion in his voice. There was no way he could’ve known what’d I’d just done unless he had eyes at the back of his head, so I stayed calm and collected, relishing in my guaranteed safety.

“Derek wanted me to return your pen,” I explained casually from across the bullpen. I watched as Spencer strolled unhurriedly towards me, and it might’ve been my paranoia that led me to this belief, but I swore I saw his eyes dart to his desk momentarily. However, if he had noticed the absence of his badge, he didn’t say anything.

“Oh, thanks! Have a good night.” He smiled and waved back to me, showing no indication of mistrust.

Sucker.

“You, too!” I said with more zeal than the situation warranted. I was worried that might’ve given me away, but I had timed my escape so perfectly that I was already in the elevator by the time he returned to his desk, giving him no chance to inquire about my uncharacteristic behavior.

That was a close one.

When I came in the next morning, Spencer wasn’t there yet. Which was slightly strange given the fact that I was barely on time, so if he came in at any point after my own arrival, Spencer would be considered late for work. Occurrences like that only happen once in a blue moon, and usually, the reason for them are mysterious haircuts or something’s wrong. I hoped for his sake it was the former.

Now you might consider me an impeccable troublemaker, but I’d first and foremost be rendered outstandingly forgetful. I say this only because I had completely forgotten that I stole Spencer’s badge the night before. But can you blame me? It was stashed away in my purse, hidden to my immediate sight, and the object was so small that it didn’t stick out to me or add an excess of weight in my bag that would serve as an unintentional reminder. It never once crossed my mind, not even when I looked to Derek to ask, “Where’s Reid?”

With a coffee mug in one hand, Derek put his arms out to either side of him and shrugged. Suddenly, the mug precariously shook from the draft created by someone blowing right by him.

It was Reid.

“Whoa, slow your roll there, Pretty Boy. Almost knocked my coffee over.” Derek reprimanded playfully, clutching on tighter to his precious coffee that almost succumbed to Spencer’s speed when he breezed by.

But rather than apologizing or laughing, Spencer kept on his pursuit. Since the time he got here, his eyes were glued to his desk with determination. Even as he approached his desk, he hadn’t yet acknowledged me or Derek. Instead, he was mumbling to himself while haphazardly sorting through his desk. He was frantic and in disarray, a manner that worried both me and Derek.

“What’s wrong, Reid?” I leaned forward to observe his desk, which by now, was what I had to think was a direct reflection of his brain - completely chaotic. Papers were scattered, books were open to random pages, he even emptied out his well-maintained writing utensil cup.

“I lost my badge.” He answered with his attention still trained on finding it. Luckily for me, that meant he couldn’t see the sudden smirk that grew on my face as a result of his response. There was no way to hide my entertainment without biting down on my lip to keep it from contorting into a smile or perching my head on my hand and using my knuckles to hide my devilish grin.

“When’s the last time you had it?” Derek was surprisingly just as concerned as Reid and just as eager to help him find it, even setting down his coffee on his own desk to help Reid sort through his.

“I always take it off at the end of the day, and I remember setting it on my desk, but I didn’t take it home with me. I don’t recall even leaving here with it, so I must’ve left it somewhere here.”

At this point, my unbridled enjoyment of this was too much to physically contain, that I actually had to spin my chair a complete 180 degrees just to shield them from the sight of my imminent laughter.

“(Y/n), do you remember seeing it -” Derek’s voice overpowered my muffled giggles, and when he looked up to ask me that, he would’ve seen my shuddering shoulders from where I was laughing hard, yet noiselessly. I spun my chair back around and looked at him with cool indifference.

He quickly noted the shade of red I had turned and profiled the situation. But rather than outing me, he followed the instruction of my index finger to my lips and stayed quiet.

I took his alliance as an opportunity to nonchalantly retrieve the badge from my purse. At a tantalizingly slow pace, I raised it in the air, until it was so high, Reid would be able to see it dangling from my thumb and forefinger.

“Looking for this?”

Spencer’s gaze immediately shot upward to look right at the badge, before flashing to me.

What part of him reacted first, I wasn’t sure. Was it the sigh of relief or the flared nostrils and clenched jaw that came soon after?

He wasn’t even going to say anything to me before grabbing it from me, that’s how pissed he was. But my quick reflexes lunged me backward at the same moment he reached out to get his badge from me, preventing him from successfully taking it back. I couldn’t believe he actually tried that and thought it would work.

“Ah, ah, ah,” I wagged my finger left to right to communicate my disapproval. “Not so fast, Pretty Boy. I want something in return.”

He shot me the most deadpan glare. “What do you want?”

I put my finger to my chin and looked up to coyly think about it, but more so to extend his torture for just a few seconds longer. I could feel him staring a hole into me as he grew more and more impatient. “Well, it’s gotta be something good. I mean, imagine what would’ve happened if this landed in the wrong hands.”

“Evidently, it did.” He coldly replied.

“Ouch,” I feigned offense and brought my hand to my chest to clutch my heart with a short gasp. “I’m so hurt,” I said with the biggest pout.

He was not nearly as entertained as I was, and his lack of amusement came in the form of a stoic, “I’ll teach you sleight of hand.”

My body actually had to reboot at the sound of his proposal. “Wait, are you serious?” I clarified.

“Yes. It physically pains me every time I watch you try to do it, so I figure it’s better for me if I teach you how to do it properly instead of having to sit through another one of your lousy, pathetic magic tricks.”

I would’ve been offended, but I’d been begging him to teach me sleight of hand for months, so the insults were quickly disregarded by me in case he changed his mind during the time I’d take up being hurt by his cruelty.

“Deal,” I smirked while handing him his badge back.

Needless to say, I did teach the good doctor a lesson, but it seems he still hasn’t learned … for why would you teach the biggest practical joker in the office sleight of hand? That only adds to my arsenal of tricks I have up my sleeve to use against my coworkers.

Maybe I should teach Spencer another lesson and see if he learns this time around.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

reid taglist: @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722 @spencersmagic @spencerreid-mgg @half-blood-dork @goldeng1rl8 @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #juniorgman187 #criminal minds

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trashforhockeyguys · 3 years

Text

Don’t Hold Me -19- Carter Hart

A/N: as always, all previous parts are linked in my master list. Also, umm don’t hate me for what happens at the very end. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE at the end as well, so if that could potently be triggering for you please be warned.

There was a moment, right when you first opened your eyes that you could’ve sworn you were a teenager again. You could hear Travis arguing with Ethan just feet from you, with the sound of someone playing NHL in the background. You felt so warm due to a blanket that someone had to have tossed over you at some point during the night. You wondered if you would see your house when you opened your eyes.

But there was an arm wrapped around you. So you couldn’t be at home. You were in Travis’s apartment. Ethan came in to help you and Kora move all of your things into a storage unit for the summer. He was going to stay for part of the playoffs. Carter was sleeping next to you. You’d both fallen asleep during a movie.

You wiggled out from under Carter’s arm, following the sound of the voices to the kitchen. Kora, who still looked half asleep, was tucked under Ethan’s arm. Nolan was playing NHL in the living room, yelling at one of the other Flyers through a headset. In your gut, you knew this was what a normal morning with them. This is what life should be like.

“Y/N! Tell him that he’s wrong!” Travis begged, pointing to Ethan.

You shook your head, still too tired to even start to get into their mess, “Please tell me someone made coffee?”

Kora stepped away from E, “I’ll pour you a cup.”

“Carter still knocked out?” Ethan asked as you sat down on one of the bar stools.

“Yeah, you two arguing woke me up,” You responded slowly, “What were you two arguing over anyway?”

“Don’t ask,” Kora handed you a cup of coffee, “They’re being guys.”

“They’re arguing over who had more points when they played together,” Nolan announced from the couch.

“Oh, that’s easy, it was Ethan,” You shrugged, “Travis had the most penalty minutes.”

Kora had to hold back a laugh at the face that Travis made. Truth was, although Travis was an incredible player, even then, he was still very scrappy. He made a lot of bad plays and often let his head get the better of him. Ethan was always more level headed, and was responsible for more than his fair share of assists. But when the two of them were on the ice together, nothing was going to stop them. You missed watching them together like that.

“Someone had to do all the dirty work,” Travis explained, “But I don’t get that many penalties now.”

Kora reached over and messed up his hair, “No, you behave now. Like a good little feisty Canadian.”

“Careful, he bites when provoked,” Carter joked, finally seeming to have woken up.

“Better watch it, we have practice in a couple of hours, I won’t take it easy on you,” Travis warned.

“Okay Teeks, sure,” Carter kissed the top of your head, “Morning babe.”

You felt your cheeks heat up a little as you tilted your head to look up at him. This was something you could really get used to, all of you being together like this. You and Kora had to move out of the dorm, since the year was finally over. So Travis was letting her and Ethan crash at his place, while you stayed with Carter. Although, last night all of you ended up over here to watch movies and eat pizza. Nolan casually reminded everyone that pizza was not a part of the approved playoff diet.

“Sleep okay?” Carter asked you, taking a sip of your coffee.

You nodded and leaned back into him, “Out like a light.”

Carter wrapped his arms around you, dropping his head so his chin rested on your shoulder. His hair tickled your cheek, causing you to smile. Across from you, both Ethan and Travis were watching you with the same sort of fond smile.

Kora looked between the two other men, “Just say it, they’re cute,” She huffed, “Nolan, you wanna play me?”

“I’d like to see what you’re made of,” Nolan replied, holding up an extra controller.

The following night, you, Kora, and Ethan file into the arena, ready for the next game in the series. Carter was starting in net tonight, and Travis literally wouldn’t stop bouncing all day long. You made a joke that someone needed to take out his batteries. Kora held onto Ethan, smiling as random Flyers fans high fived each other for wearing jerseys.

“Now this is a good way to celebrate another year of hell being over,” Kora joked, “We’re all drinking tonight, right?”

“You two can have all you’d like,” E told us, “I’ll be semi sober so I can take care of both of you.”

Kora looked up at him in a way that you could only describe as love. It was weird, seeing your best friend and your brother like that. Yet, it made you happy at the same time. You liked the idea of them being happy together, come what may.

“We should get to our seats,” You told them, “Drinks later.”

“I’m going to be the only one getting drunk tonight, aren’t I?” Kora questioned.

Both you and Ethan laughed, knowing you weren’t going to have more than a drink, maybe two. The only time you ever really got drunk was with Kora, but you wanted to be sober for this. You wanted to watch every second as the game unfolded. You wanted to be able to run to Carter and hold him after the game was over, because who knew how many more times you could do that.

Kora leaned over to you once you were all in your seats, “You have that look again, are you okay?”

You forced a smile and tried to push away the sudden sickening feeling you had in your stomach, “yeah, I’m fine.”

But you couldn’t shake the sudden feeling that you shouldn’t have come tonight. That you should’ve watched from Carter’s apartment. But you hadn’t missed a home game almost all season, and you certainly weren’t going to miss a playoff game.

Yet, every ounce of you was screaming to run, to get away while you still could. But you knew you were safe, Zachary wouldn’t dare come near you while Ethan was here. He wouldn’t really do anything in the arena, where all of the security knew you by now. You were safe here.

You tugged on the sleeves of your jersey, pulling them down so they covered your hands. You couldn’t help the little shiver that went through you. So instead, you pulled out your phone and looked at the last text Carter sent you, vowing to win since everyone was here. Your eyes seemed to stay glued to the part where he said he loved you and he loved knowing that you were wearing his jersey.

Although he laughed about it at first, somehow knowing that the jersey on your back was actually his old one, and not just one you got from the team store, made him feel different. Like you were really shouting to everyone that you were his, and he was yours. He often chirped some of the other guys about their relationships, but that all stopped when he realized how much he loved you.

Because the truth of it was, Carter could see a whole life with you. An entire future that was so bright and full of love and happiness. He hadn’t told you that yet, mainly because he didn’t want to scare you. But he wanted everything with you. He wanted a ring on your finger, you walking down an aisle all in white, maybe a couple of kids in a house outside the city one day. But for now...for now he was just happy knowing you had on his jersey while you watched him play.

You hold tightly onto Kora’s hand as the clock ticks down. Carter was so close to a shutout. How often could you say that your boyfriend got a shutout during the Stanley Cup playoffs? You were so sure that your heart would beat right out of your chest. Even E seemed to literally be on the edge of his seat.

Sure they were still a few games off from winning the series, but this would really tip the scales in their favor. For the first time you actually let yourself think about it. About what it would mean for Travis, Nolan, and for Carter. You could almost picture them hoisting the cup. Could almost see yourself on the ice with everyone, laughing as Travis attacked you. You could almost see all of it. You could almost see all of the things you hadn’t allowed yourself to want.

The arena erupted, fans were yelling so loudly you swore your ears were going to be rining for days. You’d even lost your own voice sometime during the second period. You spent the whole game engaging with everyone in the arena. You hadn’t experienced energy like that in years. You were almost willing to bet that you felt the same level of adrenaline as the team did. Honestly, you’d probably be just as amped up as Carter when you got home.

“He did it,” Ethan marveled over the roar of the arena, “He fucking did it.”

Kora nearly jumped on your shoulders, “My best friend is dating a goal god!”

You were in a state of shock right up until the time you saw Carter after the game. Then it was like everything kicked into high gear and you ran to him, you even jumped so he had to catch you. A couple other members of the team whistled jokingly as you kissed him.

“You did so good.”

Maybe it was the bit of alcohol in your system, or the adrenaline from the game. But you seemed to forget every little problem you had. You forgot about Zachary, and the impossible decision that lurked there. Or the fact that you still had to pick who you were going to spend the summer with, if anyone. You forgot about all of it. All you wanted to do was be with all of them.

“Damn you look good tonight,” Carter joked, tugging on his jersey.

“We should go out. All of us,” You told Carter excitedly, “Like go get drinks or something.”

“You want to go out?” Carter asked, surprised that you were the one to even bring it up.

“I feel like dancing and having fun. Finals are over, you just fucking owned the net. C’mon, please?”

“Hartsy take the girl out,” Kevin Hayes chirped.

Carter smiled and kissed you again, “Well, let’s go out then.”

So that's what you did. All of you filed into some club that Travis knew about. You weren’t really dressed for it, although you did have a nice top on under the jersey, but you didn’t care. Not as the music seemed to fill your soul as you held onto Carter. He laughed and danced with you, both of you seeming to forget everything.

Ethan watched as you let go. He and Travis just looked at each other and smiled. Neither of them had seen this side of you since you were in high school, before Zachary broke so much of you. Ethan felt himself relax the more you seemed to smile and come alive. Kora soon pulled Ethan and Travis both onto the dance floor, insisting that all of you be together.

Hours later, so late in fact that you were pretty sure it was morning, you and Carter were slowly making your way towards his building. Ethan, Kora, and Travis all split off a while ago so they could go back to Travis’ place. You were still so giddy, happily talking off Carter’s ear.

He felt a sort of warmth in his chest. This was the person Trvais and Nolan talked about. He was finally able to see the you that Travis told him about for years, the you that was free. He wished he could’ve met her sooner.

“I want to go back with you,” You told him suddenly.

“Huh?” he wasn’t entirely sure how you’d gone from talking about wanting a breakfast beagle from the diner off campus, that certainly wasn’t open this time of the morning, to wanting to go somewhere else with him. His brain was hazy, both from the alcohol and everything else that happened.

“To Canada, if the offer still stands?”

You stopped walking and turned to face him. When you really stopped to think about it earlier in the night you realized that there wasn’t any other place you wanted to be. You’d be safe with him in Canada, you would finally be able to fully love him there. Nothing would stand in your way. It would just be you and Carter. Everything would be okay.

“God I love you,” He whispered before leaning down to kiss you, “Of course the offer still stands.”

“Good,” You pulled at his neck so he would kiss you again.

You really didn’t care that you were in the middle of a dark sidewalk in the middle of the night. You couldn’t even pay attention to the cold that was slowly working its way into your bones. Because all you could think about was his lips on yours, and the summer that now awaited you. All you wanted was that. You just wanted him.

“Now Doll, this isn’t part of the game,” You couldn’t pull away from Carter fast enough to find the source of the voice. But you already knew. You wanted to warn Carter to run, to get away. But there was a loud sound that made your ears ring again, but in a different way from the arena. And then...there was just nothing.

#Carter hart #carter hart imagine #Carter hart imagines #Carter hart fanfic #Carter hart fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fanfic #hockey fanfiction #Philly flyers imagine #Philly flyers imagines #flyers imagines #flyers imagine #nicolewritesthings

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ofmythsandmadness · 3 years

Text

to be called beautiful | d.h.

❛ do you ever miss, having someone around to love you?❜

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

SUMMARY: vigilantes!au. you push the boundaries of your relationship, and ask for a wish you know won't be given back. (or — it's late, and after another night of patrol, loneliness sets in deep.) WARNINGS: slightly nsfw??? mentions to sex, no descriptions. it's not a sexual story, just a part of an inner monologue. WORD COUNT: 2.6k+ NOTES: reposting this in hopes it shows up this time (pls pls pls i'm gonna cry). i've been writing a whole other series that is a totally different writing style, but i've been trying to work out my emotions in small, focused pieces like this one when i can't focus. i might develop this into a small ficlit series of it's own, bc i think it's kinda fun — but we'll see how this goes.

THE BEAST THAT IS YOUR LONELINESS has been your burden for too long to say.

It's hold on you is a familiar ache, one you've felt for years, like a chronic tight tugging on your heart that refuses to give in no matter what you try. But you still refuse to name it for fear of coming to terms with the implications of it all. That you're really alone in this life and you're terrified of what that means and the fact that you can't have what your childhood stories promised would be yours.

Like the fool you are, you cling to the idea that it's just passing notions. You'll get over it one day. The flitting daydreams of a fairytale romance better fit for a vanilla Hallmark flick suck, but one day they won't hurt so bad. You'll numb and find a way to fill the void. And you try, you really do, pushing it down for the quick release of meaningless acts and walks of shames and cold bedsheets.

Sex is a toxic friend. You choose it's pull when your heart aches most and the loneliness begs for your breath to the point where every gasp of air is a privilege, not the bare minimum. It's not what you crave. There's no romance, no love. It's a trade and one that always leaves you feeling robbed of something you're not sure you ever even had.

You rarely remember their names. You know they probably won't remember yours. And why would they? The shudders, the whimpers, the cold moans that amount to nothing but crumbs of a supposedly passionate act only pass an hour, then they're gone. Or you're gone, if you're lonely enough to risk it. A bit of fun, a breath of pink and white and the feeling of someone pulling you closer, begging for your skin against theirs.

And then, it's all grey again. And you're alone at your apartment, washing your body free of the marks some stranger dared to press into your wilting skin, wondering what it would feel like for a lover to kiss you that same way. Running your fingers over every inch that has been caressed by so many faceless guests, trying to hold yourself in the way your foolish heart pounds for. But it's never enough. Your hands don't cup your flesh, don't mould and kiss and promise the carefully knitted lies any lover had dealt you in the past. And you're as cold as ever when they fall back to your sides. Nothing enflames your skin like you wishes it could — like those you wish would.

It's a discontent you live with. Just as you're sure millions of others do. That's what life is; you push yourself through the day, through your mundane day job and your taxing nighttime hobbies (because you sure as hell can't claim what you do as real work if your only pay is in blood and tears). You cling to the good times that happened too long ago to remember clearly, and make the moments that you're alone with your thoughts as small as possible.

But there's no time to consider all that now.

You scrunch your face up as tight as you can, squeezing your eyes shut to the point where you see stars, exploding like confetti in some absurd black void that hides behind your lids. For a moment you hold the pose, watching the stars erupt, until the position hurts too much and you have to release.

Surroundings blur and then clear as your eyes readjust from their disassociation. You stare blearily at the random coffee shop you and your 'associate' chose for the night. It's just as generic as the last five visited, a thousand shades of brown and red and weary smiles the bored baristas wear just for a cheap check that'll barely cover their asses. It's worn and empty; no one's hear except the two of you and the workers who probably hate you for being here so late.

Normally, you would feel like an asshole staying so late. But you can't bring yourself to move, or even suggest to. It's all too heavy. And even if it's in brooding silence, you don't want to leave your partner. Not yet, you beg the universe, just a few more minutes.

And, speaking of—

"What's got you so blue today?"

You blink. Look over to him, only to see him already watching you.

There's really no point lying. He always unravels you too quickly, too easily — it's the detective in him, unravelling anyone and scooping their truths from shivering flesh. Some sort of childhood trauma response he developed into another super power.

You used to hate it. Now...if you concentrate hard enough, his sharp gaze feels like one of a lover's.

"Don't know what you mean," you tell him, foolish and flustered. "I'm just fine."

"Bullshit. You've sighed a dozen times in the last five minutes."

"Tch. No I haven't."

"Did too!"

His teeth glint, white and clashing against the full pink of his lips. You wish you could denounce all the times you wondered what it would feel like to have them graze against your keening skin — but not even all the gods could cleanse of you of those thoughts. Those desperate, pleading, melancholic memories stain; he can't see them, but you do when you look close enough. And you can't escape it, much as you try.

"Seriously, though. What's up with you?"

Your gaze falls down to your hands, eager to escape his allure, though it's not a great distraction. It only makes you more bitter, really, taking in all the flaws that litter your weaponised limbs. They're calloused from a million fights. Your knuckles are scarred, aching from wounds you reopen every other night. A thousand scars from a thousand scrapes, cuts, slashes and grazes linger on once perfect skin. You don't know how many there are, anymore, only that you wish you could wipe them off. Start over, have a clean slate. Erase all your mistakes and be beautiful again.

"I'm just tired," you lie. It's tense and pitiful; you know you've screwed it up the second the words leave your lips. "S'all."

"Ri-i-ight, and I'm the goddamn queen of England."

The absurdity of his retort makes your lips twitch. It's not enough for a smile, your self-inflicted misery makes sure of that, but it's a seed of something. "Wow. Didn't know I was in the presence of royalty."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut it."

"My apologies, your highness."

"Shut up, you little shit," he grumbles, but it's as soft as you get from him. It's practically a cry of love — or your foolish mind paints it as such. You take his teasing insults as promises of adorations and his arguments are poems of lust and infatuation that tug on your heartstrings in ways you know they shouldn't.

You're partners, for crying out loud. Professional coworkers (if you call the bloody mess you two create work). You don't get to miss him, or crave him, or love him like you do.

"Something happen to you?"

You watch his own hands fold and unfold on the table. The long, delicate fingers stand out on a man like him; someone who paints himself in only sharp angles and cutting lines. But you think they match him well. They promise life. Bleed hope, even in the raised scars that lace his skin like your own. You've watched those fingers grip a blade, launch it into flesh, pull and push and dig and rip and take and committed acts of atrocity most people would run from. You know he probably thinks of his hands the same way you do. But you think they're beautiful.

"Nah. It's...it's nothing. Really."

You can't see his face, but you imagine his narrowed eyes and furrowed brows asking for an answer you're just not willing to give. "C'mon, just tell me. Can't be that bad."

Your body laughs. You hear it from some place far away. It's cold and hoarse; you wonder how long it's been since you've heard a genuine laugh from yourself. You wonder if he notices (and wishes he did, foolishly, frivolously...).

It's probably stupid, but you go for it.

"You ever miss having someone?"

Something creaks; his chair, groaning as he shifts his weight. One of his fingers taps against his empty coffee cup; idle music for a restless soul.

"Like, in what way?"

"I..." Your nails dig into your palms. This was a mistake, but one you have to follow through with. He won't accept silence after something like that. "In the cheesy, domestic sorta way? That whole, havin' someone to come home to, someone who you can talk to, someone who..." the words stick like molasses in the back of your throat. Try as you do, they refuse to give themselves to him, so you have to substitute. "Just, someone who likes you, past your body or, or whatever."

"Oh."

"Sorry." It's your turn to shift in your seat, awkwardly searching for something to occupy yourself with as this uncomfortable energy you've created carries on. But your cup's empty, and you don't have the cash to ask for another overpriced latte. "Forget about it. Let's talk about somethin' else, yeah?"

He doesn't answer that. In fact, he doesn't say anything at all for a moment, long enough to make you wonder if you've just crossed the line of no return. You can't bring yourself to look at him, hell your cowardice is painful enough to make you wonder if you should just make a run for it, say au revoir! to the bond you've built with this knife-obsessed robin hood and crush your heart forever.

It's tempting, and you consider it, but then he fills the silence.

"I miss Eudora sometimes."

Finally, your gaze tilts up. Your eyes meet his lips. He's not smiling anymore.

You guys don't talk about exes together. It's a forbidden topic, same as family or childhoods or the number of people that have cut you open and bled you dry for fun. It's too personal, and in this line of work, personal doesn't fly. But you know Eudora Patch, because this line of work requires a couple run ins with people like her, and because your partner in crime has never learned how to stop his emotions from bleeding into his expression.

"Not because I still love her, but y'know..." his fingers wave aimlessly. "It was nice, when it worked. I liked having someone to sleep with. In a non-sexual manner." His lip curls a little. "Guess the sex part was nice too, though."

You nod. "Yeah, I get that. It's...it was nice, having someone who knew you. Who wanted to make you feel good, not just for themselves but 'cause that sort of things matters."

"Mm."

"Y'ever consider pursuing that sort of thing?"

He shakes his head. His adamancy is a truck smashing into your heart — though you know you should have expected no less, it still hurts. "I can't. It never works, with people like us. Y'know?"

"Yeah. Makes sense." You want to say more. You probably should say more — but you doubt he wants to hear your woes about intimacy, and the pathetic ways you crave affection you probably don't deserve. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"Hm?"

His brows knot. "Why're you asking? Someone do somethin'?"

"What? No."

"Cause, like, if someone's hurt you, I'll—"

"I'm fine," you promise, and without thinking, you reach across the table to pat his hand. To reassure him like one would a lover. But just before your fingers meet his, the bitter reminder that he's not yours sets in and you draw back. Your hand falls a couple inches from his own. "And I can take care of myself, if I wasn't. Don't worry."

He chuckles mirthlessly. "Y'sure about that? You're still the dumbass that tripped over her own feet twice walking down an empty sidewalk, and—"

"—oh, you are such an asshole, why can't you just—"

"—so if you need someone to cut a bitch, I'm available."

You soften slightly. Try to smile, even if it's a false promise and probably hangs like a broken door on mismatched hinges. "I appreciate that. But I'm okay. Think I'm just tired, and a little lonely."

"What, I'm not good enough for you anymore?"

Bitterness seeps onto your tongue; it speaks before you can shut your lips around it. "You're fine as a partner against crime. But you're not anything otherwise, are you?" It feels like a taunt. You hadn't meant it to be — though, maybe you had.

If he takes your jeer poorly, though, it doesn't show on his face. He's still smiling and watching you, eyes simmering with a joke you wish you were in on.

"It doesn't matter though. Having someone's too complicated, 'specially for fools like us. Sometimes it's just..." you don't have a good answer. Not one he'd want to hear, anyways. "I just miss it sometimes. It'd be nice to have someone to talk to, or eat breakfast with in the mornings."

He nods slowly. "Yeah. Was nice, having another body around."

"Yeah. Ha. I," you stutter out a chuckle. Tug at your lip, nibbling at the cracked skin that comes with your long nights. "No one prepares you for how lonely adulthood is. Like, I'm half tempted to make friends with the takeout guys, just so I have a friend at all."

"We're friends."

"You know what I mean," you mumble, swallowing the bitter 'are we?' that almost makes its way off your tongue. "It was just nice when I had the time, to have a person around. Someone to like, hold hands with, or-or call me beautiful, sometimes. I-I can't remember the last time called me that, any..."

Fuck.

You hadn't meant for that last confession.

He wasn't supposed to hear that. It's too personal, too personal, too fucking personal for someone you don't even know.

Everything trembles; you're shaking like an avalanche, ready to sweep it all away under some snow drift. Never to be seen again. But you can't do that, there's no taking back the way your voice cracked as it reaches it's last word, and how your hand slips into a fist, ready to charge even though there's no punching your way out of this fumble.

You crack. Stumble out of your seat. Before he can talk you're moving, throwing a couple bills (too many for your poor wallet, you'll pay for that later) down and mumbling something about heading home. Your head's spinning and you just want to sit down again, pretend like this never happened and ask about some meaningless moment in a meaningless day that you wish could be yours and his, not just—

"—text me when you're goin' out again," you say, high and nervous. "I'll be around."

You turn.

"You don't have to leave."

"I got work tomorrow. Early."

"Thought you had the day off?"

Fuck, la deuxième acte. "Taking a shift for someone."

"Oh." He doesn't believe you. He would be a fool to. But he agrees anyways. "Okay."

"See ya, Kraken."

He doesn't answer you back. It's probably better that way.

BONUS

Many hours later, you're in bed, finally dozing off. You've rinsed off the filth of the night and resigned yourself to a barely adequate rest alone, too tired to consider what usually makes your mind race. It's been a long day; let future you contemplate all the ways you've screwed up.

Just as you're about to fall asleep, however, there's a small ping! that immediately wakes you up A notification sound reserved for only one person.

You groan but still roll over. Your heart may be a humiliated, burning mess, but it still beats for him, much as you've tried to stifle it.

kraken // 2:36 am. you available at 11p tomorrow?

kraken // 2:37 am. got word somethin going down at east docks, wanna check it out before it gets bad.

Relief is a sweet blessing. You exhale and smile into the darkness. He's still a professional, even if you seem unable to understand what that means.

you // 2:40 am. for sure. meet me at my place whenever and we can prep.

You leave it at that. Whatever he has to say after that, cannot be too important to waste your precious hours of sleep. So you roll over and shut your eyes and let yourself forget about the empty space that fills your place.

It's a decision you regret the next morning, when you wake up and realise what you missed.

kraken // 3:31 am. you ever get lonely for someone, feel free to let me know.

kraken // 3:32 am. might not make a great boyfriend, but i'll eat breakfast with you. so long as you're cooking.

A/N - I had a whole idea for two tired vigilantes (like what Diego does in season one, but partnered up) who both are really lonely and tired of life and all it's shit, and rely on each other more than they'll ever admit, and...I'll probably never write it, but this was a fun bit of that. two lonely emotionally deprived assholes who can't accept that maybe they can be loved and the person who wants to is right in front of them. :)

#my writing #diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x reader #tua x reader #tua imagine #diego hargreeves imagine #hargreeves imagine #hargreeves x reader #gender neutral reader

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avengersassemble-fics · 3 years

Text

Stark Legacy

part 02/?? "the same fucked up past"

master list

previous part // next part

word count 5.3k

Okay so… Maybe you went a little too hard last night. This headache that you’ve been fighting the last thirty minutes was killer, and the sunlight that peeked past your curtains and into your eyes was not helping. You were so out of it, you swore you could smell bacon. Which could never be the case, it was just you here - and that’s what made your eyes open. You were suddenly hit with the memories of the previous day, and you sat yourself up to stare at the door.

No yeah that was totally bacon you were smelling. You rubbed your hands over your face and flung the blankets off your body, not even wanting to know how you got in here last night. You stripped out of your day old clothing and jumped into some jeans and a random shirt before preparing yourself for what you were about to walk out to.

You pulled your door open to find your living room tidy and put together, and in the kitchen your eyes landed on the backs of Sam and Bucky. They were hovering over your stove and talking amongst themselves, but as you came closer you could make it out more as arguing. You were more focused on the full pot of coffee begging to be drunk (by you specifically).

“Just let me make them sunny side up!” Sam told Bucky as you came up behind them.

“I’m telling you, you gotta have a little bit of crunchiness around the edges,” Bucky argued back. “That’s the best part.”

“I hate to say it but he isn’t wrong,” you said as you opened a cabinet to grab a mug. The two men glanced at you just as you began pouring yourself a hefty cup.

“See?” Bucky said to Sam who all but huffed.

“Thanks for having my back,” Sam mumbled your way and you hummed as you passed him to grab a seat on a stool.

“What is all this anyway?” You asked as Bucky plated a couple eggs and a piece of toast. He turned around and placed it in front of you and held your gaze for a moment before turning back around to repeat the process. You raised a brow at the two men, then grabbed the fork and cut into the eggs. “Thought you two would be gone by now.”

You missed the shared glance between them, you were too busy shoving some food into your mouth. But as you chewed and looked back up at them they faced you together, and you knew that look on their faces, and started shaking your head. “No-”

“Come on, (Y/N),” Sam tried to reason again. “We’ve got at least eight super soldiers out there. We need all the help we can get.”

“Can’t you track down Strange or someone who, ya know, wants to help?” You asked and took a sip from your cup. “Besides, I have very important things here.”

“Is that right?” Sam asked and you gave him a small mhm before going back to your plate. Just as you were about to dig into the other egg the plate was pulled away from you, and you raised your gaze up to meet Bucky’s stare.

“You’re bullshitting,” Bucky stated. You narrowed your gaze at him.

“You’re annoying,” you challenged. Bucky huffed and leaned forward towards you, and you shifted back in your seat.

“You owe me a favor,” Bucky told you. You shook your head at him and sighed.

“You’re really bringing that up?”

“Yeah I’m bringing that up,” Bucky countered. You held his gaze for a few more moments, while Sam watched the exchange from behind. You finally blinked at Bucky and rolled your eyes.

“Fine, but give me the plate back,” you asked and after a few seconds Bucky slid the plate back to you and you grabbed it and went back to cutting into your eggs. You were almost completely sure you were going to end up regretting this decision, and for still owing Bucky this favor.

It’s been awhile since you’ve had to pack for a mission, you really didn’t even know where to start. Sam had filled you in on everything they knew so far. Eight confirmed, though there could be more for all they knew. They had followed up on a lead before coming your way but it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. And he also filled you in one this new Captain America.

“So.. You’re officially out of leads?” You asked and Sam nodded while you shoved some clothes into a bag. “What about Walker? Think they have any information?”

“Even if they did, we are not teaming up with those two,” Bucky interjected as he came into your room. You could tell he was antsy, ready to get a move on. You ignored him though and zipped your bag closed. “Besides, Walker doesn’t have any leads.”

You could see Sam’s face scrunch up a bit as he stood to level with Bucky, and you raised a brow at the two. Was this going to be an everyday thing?

“I know where you’re going with this, and the answer is no,” Sam told him and Bucky shifted and leaned closer and lowered his voice.

“He knows all of HYDRA’s secrets. Don’t you remember Siberia?” Bucky asked and you fought back the urge to twitch at the mention.

“Okay Tweedledee and Tweedledumb,” you cut them off and they looked your way. “Anyone wanna fill me in on who you’re talking about because I know you’re not talking about the man who used my parent’s death as a revenge tactic-“

Bucky’s face fell into a straight frown and Sam looked at him like he was ashamed as well. You sighed and shook your head. “No, of course you would suggest that.”

“I’m just playing devil’s advocate here-“ Bucky started and you scoffed.

“Doing more than just playing,” you mumbled and Bucky huffed.

“But he’s the only lead we have right now.” Bucky finished. The two looked at you as if waiting for permission and you closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh. You were already regretting your decision.

“Fine. Let’s go see Zemo.”

You didn’t like this one bit. Bucky had gone to see Zemo a few hours ago, and here he was trying to talk Sam into breaking him out. Thankfully, Sam was more sound minded then Barnes was. They argued back and forth (this really was going to be a daily occurrence) while you sat on a bench in whatever creepy dark warehouse you were in. You snacked on a packet of fruit snacks you hid in your pocket from home, and watched the two men bicker amongst themselves.

At this point you were just along for the ride.

“Have you lost your mind?” Sam asked and you held back a laugh. You wanted to answer that on a dime and cleared your throat quietly. But the glare Bucky sent your way let you know he heard you. Good.

“We have no leads, no moves, nothing,” Bucky tried to reason and you watched him shift his balance and look your way. “At least I’m trying to help.”

“By breaking out one of the most dangerous men in the world? Who single handedly broke up the Avengers? Yeah, so helpful,” you said and shoved your trash back into your pocket before standing to join them.

“We have eight super soldiers that are on the loose, in case you two forgot,” Bucky said and you crossed your arms.

“We haven’t forgotten, but Zemo is gonna mess with our minds, especially yours,” Sam pointed out to him. “No offense.”

“Offense taken,” Bucky said in a low tone. “Super soldiers go against everything he believes in. He’s crazy, but he has a code.”

“Well at least you two have one thing in common,” you said below your breath, but the look Bucky gave you let you know he heard you, again. “Let’s not forget he blew up the UN and killed King T’Chaka in the process, and framed you for it. Oh yeah, and used my parents death as a revenge tactic, and showed the footage to my brother and I. Didn’t think you forgot that by now, or what about the Wakandans? They definitely haven’t forgotten.”

“Look, we get why this matters to you,” Sam cut in, almost taking a step in front of you to block you off from Bucky’s view. “But it’s pushing you off the deep end.”

“We don’t know how they’re getting the serum, or how many of them there even are, Sam.” Bucky tried to reason, and you scoffed.

“Aww, can’t handle a couple tough guys, Terminator?” You asked and Bucky huffed.

“Will you two stop with the nicknames already? I don’t understand most of them anyway,” Bucky said and you shrugged.

“That’s what’s fun about it,” you suggested and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Just hear me out, okay?” He asked. You stood there and listened to an elaborate plot of breaking Zemo out of his containment, and you couldn’t help but wonder what you were dragged into.

“I don’t like how casual you’re being about this,” Sam said and you nodded in agreement.

“It’s unnatural,” you agreed and Sam nodded with you and Bucky’s face fell.

“Is this how it’s going to be? You two teaming up on me?” Bucky asked and you shrugged.

“Probably,” Sam and you said at once. Before anyone could get another word out the doors to the warehouse were pushed open, and everyone turned to see a man’s back, who was closing the doors. When he turned around and took off his cap, your stomach folded. You looked at Bucky once more with a glare.

What an idiot.

“Whoa, woah, whoa,” Sam began to say and take a couple steps back.

“No, come on, listen-“ Bucky tried to reason. Sam looked back at Zemo and pointed at him.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked and Zemo just shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t let this happen,” Bucky said and you shook your head and looked at Zemo.

“For good reason,” you said.

“What did you do, Bucky,” Sam asked and Bucky motioned back at Zemo.

“We need him,” Bucky stated and Sam came back to your side.

“You’re going back to prison!” Sam said to Zemo, who lifted his hands in peace.

“If I may-“ Zemo started to say.

“NO,” the three of you said in warning, and Zemo dropped his hands and listened to the bickering.

“When Steve refused to sign the Accords, you backed him. You broke the law, and stuck your neck out for me. All I’m asking is for you to do it again,” Bucky said to Sam before looking your way. “And you owe me, so you have no say in the matter.”

“Thanks for the reminder, Tinman,” you threw back at him. Bucky rolled his eyes and looked back at Sam, waiting for his blessing. Sam looked annoyed but finally sighed and looked at Zemo.

“If we do this, you don’t make a move without our permission,” Sam ordered and Zemo nodded.

“Fair,” Zemo agreed. You shared a glance with Bucky and shook your head at him.

“Okay Zemo. Where do we start?” You asked.

You couldn’t believe you were onboard a private jet, headed to an unknown destination, with the three biggest idiots you’ve ever met (well okay.. maybe second to a certain super soldier you did not want to talk about). You settled into your seat across from Zemo (please could someone end your misery) and looked out the window to the passing clouds, before a fuzzy feeling settled into your throat. You slid the blind close over the window just as Oeznik was offering you a drink, but before you could accept, Bucky took the drink from him.

“She won’t be drinking,” He told the older man, and you gaped at him.

“Says who?” You asked and Bucky handed the drink to Sam and sat opposite of him.

“Says me, as part of the favor you owed me,” Bucky replied, and started to search his pockets from something.

“My presence is the only favor you’re getting out of me,” you argued back at him, but he ignored you. You huffed and crossed your arms and watched Zemo pull out a small notebook, and your heart dropped.

That was Steve’s. And it seemed right as you noticed, the idiot beside you did too.

“Who is Nakajima?” Zemo asked. Bucky was up in a split second, snatching the book back and getting in the criminal’s face.

“If you touch that again, I’ll kill you,” Bucky threatened before moving back to sit in his seat across the aisle. Sam watched the exchange before meeting your gaze, and you shrugged. You had no answers for that.

“I’m sorry,” Zemo offered. “I understand that list of names. People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Bucky warned and you looked across at Zemo. He offered you a smile and you shook your head.

“I don’t like you,” you told the Sokovian man. Zemo nodded and took a sip of his drink.

“Understandable. I’m sorry that you got caught in the crossfire,” Zemo offered and you blinked at him. “But it was necessary to share the truth.”

“By showing us a video of our parents being killed?” You asked a little too loudly. You had sat forward in your seat, and narrowed your eyes. “You’re the HYDRA expert. Tell me then, how do you think that affected me, hm? You think when I close my eyes at night that I don’t see that replaying in my head? You triggered that memory. You knew what you were doing.”

You stood from your seat abruptly and Zemo (probably everyone, but who cares) watched as you went to the back of the plane, and you locked yourself in the bathroom. You didn’t come out for most of the trip until there was a knock, and Sam’s voice spoke through the door.

“We’re landing soon, and we need you out here,” Sam said. You took a deep steady breath and unlocked the door and pushed it open, and it folded open to reveal Sam. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you told him honestly. Though he looked like he didn’t want to give the topic up, he nodded and motioned back to the front of the small plane.

When Sam and you regrouped, you watched Zemo picking through some outfits (where did he even get these?) before handing Sam one. It was an odd red and yellow suit, and Sam took it but raised a brow.

“What the hell is this?” Sam asked. Bucky was just zipping up a leather jacket that had his vibration arm exposed and you avoided his looks.

“That is your cover,” Zemo offered without, and seemingly picked another fit for himself. “We cannot simply walk in as ourselves.”

“All of us,” Bucky chimed in, and you knew he was directing that to you. You rolled your eyes and finally looked his way and crossed your arms.

“Just tell me the plan,” you said and Zemo looked to Oeznik, who disappeared around the small corner for something. Sam disappeared back to the bathroom, probably to change.

“Sam will become Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger. One of Selby’s usual patrons, while I remain as myself. James here, will enter as the Winter Soldier, and I’ll be offering his services to get us in with Selby.”

“Are you sure this is a good plan?” You turned and asked Bucky. Bucky was fastening a glove over his flesh hand and looked up for a moment at the wall. “Isn’t this what you’ve been working away from?”

“We need the information,” Bucky said coldly. You blinked at him as he avoided your gaze, and you looked back to Zemo.

“So what am I doing?” You asked. Oeznik came back around the corner with a black dress and you tilted your head.

“You are accompanying me for the evening,” Zemo said and you eyed the dress.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you said as you eyed the silky dress. Bucky seemed to be paying just as much attention to the pick. For some reason, this changed his tune on letting you tag along.

“No, it’s too dangerous,” Bucky said and you gaped at him.

“Oh I can’t go but you can, and then go all Winter Soldier? That’s not how this works, Barnes,” you challenged and he faced you fully and got in your face.

“I’m saying that you need to stay put,” Bucky said. His low voice was almost a growl, and if you hadn’t been used to being outsized by a super soldier in the past, maybe this would’ve intimidated you. You looked him over and held his gaze as you leaned past him and snatched the dress from Zemo’s grip.

“Try and stop me,” you challenged. You turned around towards the bathroom, and just as Sam exited, you entered and relooked the door.

That was so… Weird. Right? You looked yourself over in the mirror and then looked at the dress in your hand. It was smooth to the touch, probably the same material of the dress you wore to that party Ultron crashed. You smiled a bit to yourself at the memory of that night, besides a murdery robot, you had met and got along with everyone well that night. Sam, Wanda, Thor… Natasha… Tony… Steve.

You cringed and shook your head. Pushing down the memories of that night, of those people really, you stripped from your comfortable clothes and into the satin black dress. When you could finally adjust it right, you smoothed the thin straps over your shoulders and looked yourself over in the mirror. The black form fitted dress stopped high on your thighs, and there was a cut out on the side that offered a little wiggle room for walking. You fixed your hair, touched up on whatever makeup you had on, and with a final glance you had to admit.. Zemo had taste, at least. You threw open the door and stepped out, only to hear the three of them fighting. Again.

“You didn’t tell me that part of the plan,” you could overhear Bucky saying.

“Buck, does it really matter?” Sam asked and Zemo nodded, in a fur collar lined coat. All together everyone looked… Okay, but separated it was a tad off. You blamed Bucky of course, if he hadn’t broken Zemo out this wouldn’t be happening.

“As far as I know, she can handle herself,” Zemo said and he straightened his clothing.

“He’s right,” Sam agreed and you finally decided to butt into the conversation.

“She can handle herself,” you chimed in, and they turned to look at you. If you were checked out, you didn’t notice. You had snatched the heels that were laying out for you, and with one hand you gripped onto Sam’s shoulder, and with the other you began to put the shoes on. “Besides, someone needs to keep you all in check.”

“We’d be fine without you,” Bucky tried to reason, just as you set both strapped feet back on the ground and met his gaze.

“First you want my help, then you don’t.. Starting to think I should just head back to the Netherlands,” you commented and Sam shook his head.

“No, ignore him. We need you,” Sam reassured you and you nodded in acceptance. At least someone wanted you around.

A light came on to indicate a descent from the sky, and everyone took their original seats. You ignored Barnes’ looks, and stayed mostly silent as the plane landed, and even as everyone walked side by side one another. To your right was Bucky, Zemo, then Sam at the end. You tilted your head to the side and felt a small crackle, and sighed at the released tension. Somehow, Bucky took it as an invitation to talk.

“Why are you so hard headed?” He asked quietly, as if to shield the conversation from the other two who were discussing Sam’s cover. “You couldn’t have just stayed on the plane?”

“I’m sorry, weren’t you the one who came to me for help?” You shot back at him and he rolled his eyes at you. You shook your head and looked back straight ahead. “But no, as soon as it became clear I’m Zemo’s arm candy, you changed your mind. Kinda misogynistic if you ask me.”

“I’m not trying to be misogynistic,” Bucky replied and sighed deeply. “I just thought you… Didn’t want to be reminded of doing this type of mission.”

You understood pretty quickly what he was implying, and honestly it made you even more mad. “You really want to talk to me about this, when you’re planning on engaging as the Winter Soldier?”

And with that… Bucky grumbled to himself and moved on from the subject. In the distance motorcycle lights began to form, as well as the headlights of a car, and everyone came to a stop in the middle of a road.

“No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it, there’s no margin for error,” Zemo instructed and you nodded a bit to yourself. This should be simple enough.

The ride in was ominous, the car silent as an unknown man drove the group to its destination. You were sandwiched in between Sam and Bucky, and you did your best not to meet the gaze of the man in the rearview mirror. This is fine, everything was going to be fine. The car came to a stop in the city, and everyone began to get out, and Zemo offered you his hand. Without hesitation, you took his guidance and he helped you out, and you walked by his side as the group made their way deeper into Madripoor.

God, it smelled bad.

There were guns and crimes galore, and you kept your eyes focused on Zemo’s head in front of you, Sam and Bucky trailing behind you. Zemo entered an alleyway that soon was filled with a bunch of people, and suddenly your hands were sweaty. Zemo came up along a bar and the man behind it turned around and looked everyone over.

“Hello gentleman,” he greeted and looked at Sam pointedly as you grzed Zemo’s side. “Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

“His plans changed,” Zemo explained and rested his arms on the bartop. “We have business to do with Selby.”

The bartender looked at Sam again with an odd look on his face before giving him a short nod. “The usual?”

You watched as the bartender turned around and moved to a jar, and pulled out a snake. You had to fight back a grin, sliding one of your hands up Zemo’s arm, while the other grazed over your lips to hide the smile that so badly wanted to form. You met Bucky’s glance for only a second, whose pointed stare just screamed Winter Soldier mode. Either way, he didn’t look amused.

Zemo had a simple drink, while Sam was handed one with something from inside the snake floating at the bottom of the shot. The two men clicked their glasses together, and eventually Sam joined Zemo in downing his shot. The Bartender still looked unsatisfied, but moved on from the group. You were about to remove yourself from Zemo’s side when an unknown man came up behind you, sandwiched between you and Bucky, and looked at Zemo pointeedly.

“I got word from up high. You ain’t welcome here,” he informed your “partner”. You glanced at Bucky, then to Zemo who seemed completely unfazed.

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me, or…” Zemo motioned to Bucky by your side. You unlatched your hand from Zemo’s arm and held Bucky’s gaze. Deep down, you didn’t want him to do this.

“Or bring Selby for a chat,” Zemo offered. The man looked at everyone and disappeared, and you inwardly sighed.

“What’s a power broker?” You asked quietly and Zemo shook his head.

“Every kingdom needs its king, let’s just pray we stay under his radar,” Zemo said and you nodded a bit and looked over at Sam.

“Enjoy the drink, Smiling Tiger?” You asked and wiggled a brow at him. Sam was about to respond, he probably had a good comeback, when Zemo looked at Bucky with a more serious look.

“Зимний солдат,” (Winter Soldier) Zemo said in perfect Russian. “Атака.”

Just as a hand fell on Zemo’s shoulder beside you, Bucky was quick to move around you and grab the man’s arm, and step into action. He pulled the man from the group and with a glance at everyone, he engaged. You watched as he practically laid the man out in full force, before another charged at him. With another hit and kick, that one went flying into a third attacker. You couldn’t help but take a small step forward with the rest of the crowd, as Bucky just… Demolished anything that came at him. Another man was flung forward and Bucky reacted perfectly on time, and before you knew it he had a man sprawled out on the bar top right in front of you.

The audible sound of guns readying made everyone freeze as Zemo carried on his Russian to Bucky, keeping the act up. But your eyes didn’t leave the back of Bucky’s head. He dropped the man from the bar and slowly turned around and finally met your look. You wanted to say something, you’re not a total asshole, but you couldn’t. Not even when you felt someone’s hand move some hair from off your shoulder and expose your skin from behind. You sucked a deep breath in, but the man’s touch wasn’t on your long. Bucky’s vibranium hand was quick to snatch the perp’s hand from your neckline, and you could hear the crack and Bucky bent (probably broke) his wrist and sent him flying back.

You missed where the bartender said Selby would see everyone, you were too entranced on Bucky’s gaze. But Zemo was quick to redirect your attention, and off everyone went to meet his contact. You… You just couldn’t believe how easily Bucky fell back into that, and didn’t want to think about the fact you fell back easily into your past too.

So things did not go as planned, as many of the missions you go on unfold. Lucky for everyone, an unexpected old friend came to the rescue. Everyone else seemed okay with it, but what were the odds Sharon Carter was in Madripoor? Either way, you were glad to get out of these clothes, and Sharon was nice enough to lend not only a shower, but something normal to wear. Really it was a sweater like material shirt and some dressy pants to go with it, but it beat the dress and heels.

You had zoned out of the conversation occurring around you as everyone settled in. You let out a content sigh, maybe you could actually get some rest tonight-

“Look, you know the whole hero thing is a joke, right?” You could hear Sharon say and your eyes shot open, and you stared at the floor. “The way you gave up that shield, deep down, you must know it’s all hypocrisy.”

“He knows,” Zemo chimed in with his wisdom. “And not so deep down.”

“By the way, how is the new Cap?” Sharon asked and you looked up a little higher to watch the exchange.

“Don’t get me started,” Buck replied, and you watched as Sharon came around the couch to sit beside him.

“Please,” she scoffed. “You buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit. Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr America! Cap’s best friend.”

You couldn't help the fist that formed by your side. What the fuck was her deal? You couldn’t just sit here and listen to this. You stood from your place and everyone looked your way for the first time since this conversation started. You looked over all of them and shook your head, and without a word went to the door that you had come in from, pulled it open, and shut it behind you.

You had no destination in mind besides just getting the hell out of the building for some air. The boots you had on clanked through the halls, and eventually you made it back to the front of the building, where the two guards glanced your way for a moment before going back to whatever they were doing. You walked past them and turned down the sidewalk, just far enough away so you could lean against the wall and cross your arms.

You just wanted to be alone for a bit. But that didn’t last very long before you could see Bucky coming your way.

He didn’t say anything at first as he joined your side. You both stared ahead at the lit up skyline of Madripoor. It still smelled a bit, not as strong as Low Town, but enough to where you noticed it. Bucky slid his hands into his pockets and you could see him glance your way.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked.

“Not really,” you replied. After a few moments you glanced his way, and sighed. He was putting in an effort… Maybe you could too. “I just… Don’t get it. How can she believe that after everything that’s happened? People died to get the universe back to how it was. But that’s bullshit to her?

“Natasha’s sacrifice was a joke? Vision was just a machine? Tony’s life didn’t matter?” You asked and Bucky watched as you worked your way through your thoughts. You blinked a bit, maybe to fight back some tears, but he watched you shake your head and lean back against the wall. “I get that her life was turned upside down. But she wasn’t the only one.”

“Maybe not,” Bucky replied and turned to you fully. “But people deal with things differently. Sam and I owe it to her to make it right, and her tune may change.”

You nodded a bit at his words and let out a small hum. Bucky looked your stance over and gripped his hand closed in his pocket. “Are you okay..? About tonight-”

“Tonight was fine,” you reassured him. “Besides, we should be asking you that.”

“It was nothing,” Bucky tried to say and you shook your head.

“I saw that look in your eyes, Bucky,” you said, averting your gaze back to the skyline. “You can say it didn’t mean anything, but I know it did. We have the same fucked up past. Like you said, I may be the only one who understands what’s going on in your head.”

Bucky couldn’t help but curse himself for implanting that thought in your head, and when he didn’t move to talk about how tonight really made him feel, when you both did return to the rest of the group, the thought lingered in his mind. He so easily went into the Winter Soldier mode, it was too natural. And he couldn’t help but worry about that, but also how easy it may be for you if something triggers that repressed memory of the Phantom program. Sooner or later he knew the Wakandans would come, and if he could get back in their good grace’s… Could they help you too?

- - - - - - - - - -

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fanfic-me-up · 4 years

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Hiiiiiii can I request Bakugou x fem!reader?? (*≧∀≦*) Maybe he has a crush on you who has a healing quirk and helps recovery girl when it comes to helping the injured, like when class 1-A finishes up training and recovery girl normally sends her to deal with it all the time? She can heal people but it drains her energy so when she finished with it she takes naps on the recovery beds? Idk but thanks!much love❤️❤️❤️

This is a really cute idea! Thank you for requesting 💖

“Shut up and Heal me”

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.5k+

Warnings: Language (what do you expect, it’s Bakugou lol)

Synopsis: You’re a student at U.A. and Recovery Girl’s apprentice healer. When you push pass your limit to heal Bakugou Katsuki, who knew he cared enough to make sure you heal too.

“Wake up, dumbass.”

Your shoulder is shaken, abruptly waking you from your nap. A muscular silhouette takes shape as you pry your eyes open.

“Bakugou? Is that you?” Your voice laced with sleep.

“Nah, it’s Batman.”

You squint your eyes, still half asleep. Is this a dream? Bakugou rolls his eyes at your inability to detect blatant sarcasm.

“‘Course it’s me, dipshit. Get up.”

You check your phone and groan when you find you only got five minutes worth of valuable shut eye.

“You’re here early.”

“Aizawa-sensei let us out early!” Midoriya pipes up. He’s chipper for someone who looks one step away from passing out. Any trace of sleep vanishes when you assess his injuries, asking him a series of questions to confirm where he needs medical attention and if it’s life-threatening. You usher him to Recovery Girl’s office so he can get treated immediately. Typical Midoriya - always going plus ultra even for training exercises.

Bakugou’s no better as you take in the numerous scrapes and bruises raking his body. Despite his beaten-up state, the only open wound is on the right side of his stomach - a small pool of blood seeping through his muscle shirt. He’s been pushing himself much harder in training these past couple weeks and you know it’s the life of a hero, but you’re concerned for him as a healer and as a friend.

“You gonna stare all day or heal me?”

“Sorry, right, uh.. Take off your shirt and get on the bed.”

The words escape before you realize the implication. Bakugou raises an eyebrow before snorting.

“Tch. Weirdo.”

You flush as he takes off his shirt, laying down on the bed. The wound running down his abdomen is not deep, but it is long. It’ll be difficult to heal, but you’re always up for a challenge. You wash your hands before activating your quirk. A glowing aura surrounds your hands, transparent in color, but before you can focus on changing the color to heal Bakugou - a spaced out Kaminari stands before you with his signature thumbs up. Snot is running down his nose and his eyes have this blank look like no one’s home.

“hewwoo?”

“Oi! Dunceface! To your right!”

“wa-whee-whaa?”

That’s Kaminari gibberish for “Where?” Being Recovery Girl’s intern and constantly healing Class 1-A along with other students in the hero course has made you quite familiar with the unusual side effects of overusing one’s quirk. You created a book with translations for Kaminari’s most used gibberish phrases so you can treat him more efficiently. Today, you tried placing his juice box and cookies on the table to the right to see if he can find it himself. But he’s having problems finding what direction is right.

“Your other right, dumbass.” Bakugou growls as Kaminari bends down to look for his juice box under a chair. You giggle as you help him locate his snack before ushering him to one of the recovery beds to take a nap. He knocks out in no time, snoring softly. Bakugou grunts, his hand pressing against the wound on his side.

“Don’t touch, it could get infected.”

“Tch. I know, but look.” He releases his hold to show you the blood dripping down his abdomen. You curse for not healing him sooner when he was clearly a higher priority than Kaminari. How could you forget the number one rule as a healer? There’s no time to beat yourself up for it so you grab a cleaning cloth to wipe away the blood before activating your quirk once again. You close your eyes, focusing your energy into what you’re about to do which is close up a wound. Red swirls behind your eyelids and you focus the color down your body to your hands. You open your eyes to find them glowing a bright, luminescent red - a stark contrast to the dim lighting in the room. Bakugou hisses at the touch; your hands trailing along his abdomen. You look up to apologize when you notice Bakugou’s flushed cheeks, as red as your glowing hands.

“Are you okay? You’re a bit flushed.” You deactivate your quirk in your left hand to touch his forehead. It’s cause for concern if he has a fever due to an open wound, but you’re taken aback when Bakugou swats your hand away.

“I’m fine! Shut up and heal me.” He looks away, but you catch the persistent redness now making its way down his neck. You return to healing the wound. It’s almost closed, but you can feel your energy draining quicker than usual since you didn’t have enough time to recover earlier.

“Hey, you good?”

“Mhm. Al-most… done…” You bite your lip and clench your eyes shut to concentrate the last of your energy into closing the rest of the wound.

“Don’t push it, dumbass.” Bakugou grunts and despite the harsh tone, there’s a tinge of concern underneath.

“Heh.. could say… the same… for..”

You trail off and your hands glow brighter by the second that you can see red behind your eyelids. You feel the wound seal shut and when you open your eyes you see there’s not a scar in sight. This is the first time you were able to completely heal a wound on your own. You smile at your accomplishment.

“You can take your hands off.”

You flush before ripping your hands away. The quick movement gives you a head rush, the room spinning in circles.

“Whoa.” Bakugou grabs you by the shoulders and reverses your position so you’re laying down now.

“My head hurts…”

“No shit,” Bakugou snorts, “What’d I say about pushing?”

“Go beyond... plus… ultra…”

The last thing you hear is Bakugou laughing, a soft smile curling his lips, before your vision goes black.

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

You wake up to the smell of roasted coffee and cinnabons. Faint voices go back and forth, but you can’t make out what they’re saying. The light streaming in is gone; the room now darker than before. Jeez how long were you out?

“Took you long enough.”

You whip your head to see Bakugou sitting on a chair and nursing a cup of coffee. The bed next to yours is empty. Kaminari must’ve recovered meaning you’ve slept for more than an hour.

“You stayed.”

“Yeah, and? Wanted to make sure you didn’t die ‘cause of me.”

City lights shine bright, and the hustle and bustle outside suggests the city isn’t going to sleep anytime soon. Live music roars from nightclubs and people laughing on the street would entice anyone to join the party. It’s pretty hard to believe Bakugou would stay behind on a Friday night when it’s common knowledge that you need to sleep after overusing your quirk. But here he is, that same strip of red running along his cheeks and nose like he just got a cute little sunburn.

“You like laser tag?” Bakugou asks.

You raise an eyebrow at the random question, shrugging when you answer.

“Never played.”

Bakugou balks, shock written all over his face.

“You never - what kind of person - nevermind. If we hurry, we can make the last round.”

Maybe this time you really were dreaming. You subtly pinch yourself to make sure and nope, this is real life and Bakugou is inviting you to hang out.

“Sounds... fun? But I… um…I’m not really part of your squad…”

You didn’t want to overstep. It seemed like they were a pretty tight-knit group and you’ve never hung out with them outside of school. The fear of ruining their night because you didn’t vibe with them twisted your gut.

“Gimme your phone,” Bakugou says.

Still in a daze, you give him your phone without question. He takes his phone out and not a second later you hear a “ping” from yours, He presses a couple buttons before handing it back to you.

“Congrats, you’re part of the squad.”

You see that you’ve been added to a group chat called “keeping up with the crackheads”. You don’t have time to contemplate exactly what you got thrusted into as Bakugou is grabbing both of your jackets hanging on the coat rack, handing yours and pushing you towards the door.

“I- um.. Thanks… I guess...? Bakugou, what’s going on?”

You’re already halfway down the hallway, everything happening too fast without a clear explanation. Bakugou groans, clearly frustrated that you’re not a mind reader and he has to actually communicate what he’s thinking. He grabs your shoulders, gently shoving your back against the lockers, and planting his hands on either side of you. Being this close to Bakugou makes you feel a familiar flurry of butterflies as you’re caged in and forced to look into those crimson eyes.

“I. Like. You.” He smirks, getting a kick at your flustered state, before leaning away with his hands in his pockets, “And I know you like me too.”

You don’t know what to freak out over first. The fact that Bakugou knows about your crush or that he likes you back. Also, how does he know you like him? You haven’t told anyone about your crush, preferring to keep your cards close to your chest.

“Don’t talk in your sleep if you don’t want me to know how much you wanna run your hands down my ‘chiseled abs’.”

You squeak and cover your face with your hands, too embarrassed at what else you might’ve said in your sleep.

“Chill, dumbass, it’s cute.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, throwing an arm over your shoulder, leading you to a night full of riveting laser tag, making new friends, and first kisses. 💖

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki fluff #bnha fluff #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki fanfic #bnha #mha #fanfic-me-up #shut up and heal me

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fallingstarnovel · 3 years

Text

Chapter One

Evan Golightly didn't consider himself an unlucky kind of guy. It wasn't like he was wandering around winning the lottery, but he also wasn't getting hit by chunks of blue ice from the sky from a passing airplane.

This week was just like every other week he had experienced so far. As he walked to his lecture across the university campus, he saw the same people he usually did and went to the same places as always. He didn't step on any cracks in the pavement, and he didn't walk under any ladders. He didn't find any four leaf clovers either, and he didn't have a lucky rabbit's paw on his key chain. He had a coffee cup in his hand – medium sized, not big and not small.

He was a little late, because he had stopped to pet a black cat that lay on the pavement in front of him, but that was okay. The lecturer was very forgiving, and most people were a few minutes late anyway due to a clash in timetabling.

Evan couldn't remember if seeing a black cat was good luck or bad luck. As the kitty purred and rubbed itself up against his fingers, he couldn't help but smile and talk to it quietly.

"Oh, you like that? You like the scritches? You're so handsome, such a handsome boy..."

Someone behind him coughed disapprovingly. A little embarrassed at getting caught, Evan straightened up and kept walking, forgetting all about whether black cats were lucky or not.

As he approached the building where his lecture was held, Evan started climbing the concrete steps up to the entrance.

If luck could be charted on a bell curve, with some people being extremely lucky, and some being extremely unlucky, then Evan considered himself to be slap bang in the middle. If he entered the lottery, he might win one of the smallest prizes, but not very often. If he got onto a crowded bus, there would be a seat available, but not a very good one. If he chose answers at random on a test, he would get a 50% grade at the end.

There was a meow from down by his feet. The black cat was following him. It had big green eyes which were staring at him as it meowed again.

"I'm sorry, I would love to play with you, but I'm late," Evan said. He knew the cat didn't understand, but he still felt like being polite.

The cat meowed very loudly and then started walking in between Evan's feet as he climbed the stairs. He started to worry that he was going to trip, slowing down and trying to shoo it away with his foot. It meowed again, but ran away, standing at a distance and staring at him.

Evan had always been weak for cute things. He bit his lip. "Ahh, I'm sorry! Wait until my lecture finishes, I'll come back and give you scritches then!"

He was almost at the top of the stairs now. Evan turned away from the cat – only to see a small black shadow out the corner of his eye down by his sneakers. He felt something brush against his leg, and then he tripped over something, and before he knew what was happening, he was falling backwards down the stairs.

Evan let out a sharp cry, his arms windmilling around him as he went into freefall.

Not the stairs... not the stairs! This was why he hated stairs! He always knew they would kill him one day!

Before he could fall any further and roll down the stairs and smash like a boiled egg, he felt someone grab his arm and hold him still. His bag hit the ground and his coffee cup went flying, bouncing down the steps and spilling coffee everywhere, but Evan...

Evan was being held up at the top of the stairs by a strong, sure grip.

He looked around in surprise. Holding his arm was a smiling youth with curly blond hair, tumbling in cherubic whorls around his ears. The youth looked just as shocked, his eyes big and wide as he stared at Evan. As he stopped Evan from falling.

There was a moment of silence. The youth pulled Evan forward onto the flat ground at the top of the steps, and let go.

"You..." Evan said in a rush. "You saved me! Thank you so much, I thought I was a goner..."

The youth hesitantly smiled back, his eyes flickering down the stairs. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just tripped on a–" Evan said, gesturing to the cat.

The cat was no longer there. It had disappeared.

"... Huh. Guess I tripped on nothing. Um, thanks. Oh, man, my coffee..."

The youth picked up Evan's bag and handed it over to him. His eyes were wide, like he was recovering from a sudden shock. "Sorry. I'll buy you a new one."

"Don't worry about it, it was my fault," Evan said with a laugh. "I owe you for saving me. I should buy you a coffee!"

The youth looked at Evan. He couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were light grey, bright and cold, crinkling at the corners in a warm smile. "There's no need to thank me. You don't owe me a thing."

Evan had heard those two sentences before many times in his life. He had heard it from friends who had done him a favour, and from customer service workers who helped him get a discount for his broken laptop, and from the nice woman in the corner shop who sent his mom flowers when she heard his grandfather had died.

They had always been said with varying levels of sincerity. A lot of people said "no need to thank me", but secretly wanted to be thanked very much. If you didn't thank them, they wouldn't help you in the future. People were weird like that.

But when this guy said it, for some reason Evan understood that it was the absolute truth. Like it wouldn't matter if Evan thanked him or not – he would still help him.

Feeling a little flustered, Evan scratched the back of his neck. "Well, I have a lecture now, so I better... uh, you're sure you don't want a coffee afterwards?"

The youth seemed to think about it for just a second too long, before shaking his head. His smile was apologetic. "It's fine. Enjoy your lecture." He started walking away.

"Ah, uh, you too," Evan said in a panic, before quietly smacking his own face. He had no idea if the guy even had a lecture. Stupid, stupid, stupid...

The youth came to a stop. He slowly turned around, an angelic, apologetic smile on his face. "Actually, I'm a little lost. Could you tell me where room M42 is?"

"That's – that's where I'm going now! That's where my lecture is!" Evan gave him a wide grin. "Astro 228, right?"

The youth nodded. "Right."

"Just follow me, then. Huh... I didn't know we shared a class, sorry I didn't recognise you!"

"That's okay," the youth said quietly from behind him as they entered the lecture building together. "I tend to stay quiet."

Watery winter sun did its best to shine through the floor length windows of the lecture building. It shone off the back of Evan’s pale neck, the black hair that fell in every direction. It reflected off the otherboy’s grey eyes, making them seem more luminous, more pallid, as they watched Evan with keen, unwavering interest.

Evan walked slightly ahead to lead the way. "Well, I definitely won't forget you now. You saved my life! What's your name?"

The youth was quiet. Evan waited for an answer for an uncomfortably long time, before wondering if he had spoken too quietly. He was about to repeat the question when a soft voice from behind him said "Ruth."

Ruth? Wasn't Ruth a girl's name? Was this guy actually a girl? "Oh, Ruth? Ahh, that's a cool name."

"You don't think it's weird? That a guy has a girl's name?"

Oh, thank god, he didn't have to try and subtly ask awkward questions about pronouns. Maybe the guy was used to this kind of thing and anticipated the awkwardness. "No, I don't think so. As long as you like it, then that's all that matters. I'm Evan by the way."

The youth hummed. "I know."

Now Evan felt guilty. He didn't even remember seeing this guy around, but he remembered Evan's name. Ah, this was too bad. He would definitely make an effort to remember him now. "Well, here it is. Just in time–"

"Actually, you go ahead," Ruth said suddenly. "I need to use the bathroom."

Evan turned around and blinked at him. "Oh. Sure. I'll see you in a bit, then."

The youth nodded. He hesitated, before speaking again.

“It was nice to talk to you.”

He gave Evan one last beatific smile, before walking away and disappearing around the corner. Evan quietly let himself into the lecture and scurried to the back, mouthing "sorry" at the lecturer, who ignored him.

He made sure to keep the seat next to him free for Ruth even as other students trickled in.

The lecturer coughed several times to get the attention of the class.

"So, last week I opened the lecture with the following quote: God does not play dice with the universe. This is oft quoted and attributed to Einstein himself in a letter to a friend criticizing what he saw as the unacceptable flaw in quantum mechanics, that is, the possibility of unpredictable random events on a molecular level. In many ways, he was right. We have been learning how to chart the movement of objects in a vacuum – predicting the orbits of distant planets and stars around the insatiable black holes that are, themselves, in a perpetual state of movement. I know that most of you have grasped the basics of this particular module very quickly. Predictability is a magnetic lure – one gets lulled into the false sense of security knowing that we can work out the trajectory of some far flung meteor to a high degree of accuracy. As if space can be imagined as some unfathomably large clock, each cog in place, every heavenly body caught in an eternal, rational, predictable waltz to the swing of a baton that, if only we have the numbers, might one day understand the rhythms of. If you turn your attention to the notes we made on how you can work out the speed of rotation of a planet..."

Evan tried very hard to concentrate and make notes. There was always a buffer at the start of the class where this particular lecturer went on a long tangent about random things he thought were interesting, and he usually zoned out through them, but once the actual maths was brought in, there was no possibility of daydreaming and letting it slip by. If you missed anything, you ended up being more confused down the line when the more complicated stuff got brought in.

The poor girl next to him was doomed. She fell asleep almost immediately, and Evan lit a candle in his mind for her. RIP your grades, you snoozy bitch. At the same time, he was envious. Why couldn’t he take a nap instead of doing work?

He tried to concentrate, but all through the lecture, Evan couldn't help but keep looking at the doorway, wondering when Ruth was going to appear. How long did it take to use the bathroom? Did the poor guy have a stomach upset?

By the time the lecture was over, Evan had accepted that Ruth wasn't going to appear. He lit a candle in his heart for the guy's bowel system. Clearly, he had been having some kind of toilet trouble and decided to skip the lecture.

What a shame. He seemed so... interesting.

After the lecture was over, Evan slowly clambered out of his seat. The lecturer had set a bunch of exercises to do at home, and the library was calling for a study session. Time to shuffle into Tesco to get a £3 meal deal and sit down for several hours to pound his brain into submission!

"Hey, Evan," someone called out as they left the lecture. "Evan, wait up!"

There was a girl chasing after Evan. She had warm brown skin and an infectious smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Oh, sorry Aliya," he said, slowing down so she could catch up. "Did you enjoy the lecture?"

Aliya pouted. "No, are you insane? Enjoy it? Why did I do an astrophysics course again? There's so much maths. I genuinely think I would drop out if I didn't think my mum would kill me."

Evan nodded in agreement. "Sometimes I think about switching to an art degree instead. I won't do it. But I just think about it sometimes."

"Wait, wait, I wanted to ask you something," Aliya said, slapping his arm lightly. "House party. I've been invited, but I don't want to go alone. It's a bunch of people I don't know very well, and..."

Evan rolled his eyes. "If you don't know them, why are you going?"

"Because I don't know how to say no!" Aliya moaned. "It's a pretty casual thing, don't worry. You know I don't drink, so I'll probably be dipping early. Please? Please please please? Please just come for a little while, just to keep me company..."

Evan wasn't a prude. He liked a good party. The thing was that he liked a good party with people he knew. "And I don't know anyone there?"

"Probably not, they're all from netball club. But hey – you'll know me!"

"I don't know you. Who are you. Why are you following me."

"Evaaaaan. Please! I'll do anything."

There was a long silence as they exited the lecture building together. Evan watched the students stream out of the building on their way to other classes, or the library, or their rooms to go back to sleep.

He wasn't exactly great at making friends. Aliya was the only person on his course that he talked to regularly. It was why he was pretty excited to get to know Ruth, except he disappeared, so that was a bust. He tried a few clubs and societies, but none of them had really clicked so far.

He hadn't been to a party in ages. He was wasting the best years of his youth in university, and he wasn't even going to parties. What was the point? He was living like a grandpa and he was only twenty one!

He wasn't an old man yet! He didn't have a pension! He still liked electronic music!

Maybe this was the chance Evan needed to make new friends. How hard could it be?

"Sure, why not."

Aliya cheered. "Yay! Thank you, big guy. I owe you one. Oh, wow, watch your feet, it looks like someone spilled their coffee down the stairs... haha, poor them..."

Contents | Next Chapter

#chapter

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