#anyway I finally finished my sketches after. three fucking hours why do I do this to myself (it is because I love yulma)

[beanmaster-pika]

FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

#I FORGOT ABOUT YULMA WEEK #I SAW THE POST AGES AGO AND WAS LIKE ‘oh it’s in June I have time :)’ #IT IS IN TWO DAYS. #anyway I finally finished my sketches after. three fucking hours why do I do this to myself (it is because I love yulma) #NOBODY comment on day 3. I haven’t the skill to do my vision justice but I’m gonna do my best to do it anyway. #and I still need to finish the tcg event. #WHY DID I SLEEP FOR SO LONG #anyway going to sleep again it is almost 11pm and I have a co op hangout scheduled tomorrow w my beloved friends ✌️

[drea-ms]

UNSPOKEN WORDS AND THEIR LETTERS (i love you.)

げとうすぐる. Communication wasn't the best thing for you, but for the ones you love and cared for? You'd write and talk about for hours, maybe years

warnings. ANGST!!! erm suicide mentions. plot twist 😨. haibara isnt dead. shitty communication skills between sugu n yn. long. not proofread. inspired by somethin stupid by frank sinatra. grammar mistakes. a lot of stuff goes down. it will probably will next chapter too..... dunno what to add here.... also if you want listen to somethin stupid by frank sinatra!!!

back. masterlist. next.

You left him a voicemail that day, Words slurred, sore throat, the worst he's ever heard from you. Geto Suguru hates how too late it was for him and you.

Maybe this was the gods way of giving him karma.

He turns in his phone, goes to his voice mailbox.

"You have one message. To listen to this message press one. To delete this message press tw—"

"Um—Hey. I-I know now's not the best time to call you, you're probably busy and still mad at me. I don't understand why though. Why are you mad at me? Why is it that you have to find a way to blame me to make yourself feel better?" you paused, swallowing the pain that lies within your throat, he hates how he knows what you're feeling right now.

You sniffed and coughed before continuing, "Um—I'm sorry, for everything really. Now that I look back at everything, it was stupid of us to argue, I guess some people realize stuff really late, I really hope you listen to this message Sugu." Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Why is he feeling tears coming from his eyes, why does that nickname harm him a lot? Why do you have this effect on him?

You laugh with tears falling from your eyes, and Suguru wishes he was there to wipe them away. "Even if you don't, even if you don't ever see this message, I'm just glad I recorded it" you smiled, has the sunset ever looked as beautiful as it did right now? Do you think Suguru is watching the same sunset as you? You continue, "Hey, You remember when Satoru, dragged us out in the rain? we got all wet and later got sick. I think we were in our second year. Shoko got mad at us after and had to take care of us, Do you—" you choke up on your words before steadily repeat yourself, "Do you think, that whenever I look tired one day, will you drag me out to jump in the rain again?" The voicemail finished. The automatic voice came up,

"To hear this message again, press three, to save it press four, to delet—" he presses four, now crying his eyes out in the middle of his room. Geto Suguru truly was an idiot. It was finally night time.

When the news of the beloved [lastname] [firstname] was pronounced dead was a shock to everyone. What truly was more shocking was the fact that she left letters to everyone, one each, two to Geto Suguru. Each letter contained the same thing, to have fun, to not blame themselves and to live their best life. Why was his so different than the others? Why did he get two instead of one?

He knows the reason why, he just want to hear it from you.

The first letter read;

My dearest, Suguru,

I'm not good with writing my own feelings down, so writing this is already hard as it is. But, when you do get this letter, it means that something happened to me, or maybe I just never gave it to you and hid it or threw it away. Only time will tell.

Anyways, back to the reason I'm writing this letter. I don't think I've had enough time to tell you about my feelings. In the short time I have met you, I think I've fallen in love with you. Not in a just a crush type of way, in a way were if one were to ask me to write something about you they would get paragraph after paragraph of how I feel about you. Did you know that I would sketch you whenever I'm bored? I would draw you and somehow put you in any of my paintings, you remind me of so many things, yet i couldn't find the perfect time to finish painting you.

I think I've always loved you, I'm not sure when those feelings started, but, I knew from the way i tried to make myself more likeable to you. I would always practice every to find some clever lines to make the meaning come true, though i would always mess it up. I wanted to know whether you liked me too. And I think on that night, the one where we snuck out and headed to the bridge was the right time, your cologne (the one that smelt like mint & citrus and your cigarette smell) filled my head, I thought the stars went red and the night turned bluer than usable. I was confident to tell you my feelings, but I thought I would spoil the moment by saying something stupid like "I love you."

maybe we our communication skills aren't the best,

maybe we'll find each other in another life.

I love you.

[nickname]

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

she loves me.

she loved me.

Geto suguru remembers that night, the almost confession and how you looked. He thought you looked wonderful, a painting yet to be painted due to the amount time and work it would've taken. He also remembered that there was music playing, you've always like oldies, something about them maybe you like them. Maybe you're right, maybe the lack in communication skills was bad for the both of you.

So Suguru, ever so the stoic one, breaks in your room, with the extra key you gave him and sleeps in your bed for the first time in days.

"How long do you intend on hiding her, Yu?"A blonde, tall guy asked, "I, I don't know what you're taking about Kento-kun. Hiding who?"the shorter male asked, nervously looking anywhere but the blonde, Haibara Yu knew if word were to come out about you, he would be in trouble. "[Name]'s not dead is she? What—" he gets pulled into a empty classroom with the brunette, "Keep quiet, Kento. If word comes out and finds out to the higher ups that the child they been so afraid of is isn't dead, then everybody's gone." he said, whisper yelling at Kento. The blonde, surprised that his senior (the only one he respected really) was still alive, and the only person who was keeping her safe in hiding was the ever so sweet Haibara Yu. Now that Kento thinks about it, Yu is right, If word does come out and your alive and Yu has been hiding you, the higher up will have no chance but to execute the two of you.

"Who else knows of this?" is the only thing that comes out the blondes mouth, worried about who might know,

"Right now? Me and You. Just don't say anything and keeping pretending she's dead, it's better that way." the brunette says, the serious tone in his voice never fading.

The shorter haired boy walked away from the blonde, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Nanami Kento wasn't an idiot, he found the situation a bit werid, he kinda knew about you (you told him minor details.) and he knew who reckless you were, so you doing this was off. He exits the room, heading to his own.

"Do you know how many times I almost slipped the secret??? wayyy to many to count!" Yu says, pouting on his side of the phone call, it was midnight and everyone else was sleeping so he was trying to keep quiet.

"You know Yu, you really didn't have to do all of this." a female voice say, her voice deep and soft, smiling on her side of the call, sure she was in Seoul currently, but the time difference was the same, she knew how much the students needed sleep, she, herself was one too. "I feel greatful that you're helping me, Thank you."she said, looking out at the balcony, the night sky was shining brighter than before,

"It's no problem, [nickname]." he said, looking out by the window, a smile on his face, "You know, He's been acting werid since—" "I know, I think he read the letter, I don't know about the number, haven't gotten a call from him, maybe he didn't read it.""Maybe." he mumbled, a nervous smile on his face,

"Anyways, I have to go Yu. I'll talk to you when I can," you said, hanging up after saying your goodbyes.

Maybe, this was what you needed, Maybe not. Who cares. At least your dead.

VAL SPEAKS ?!!?? dawg this was supposed to be ready by last week and my tumblr was kicking me in the ASSSSS bro i couldn't move shit n all, but!!!! i finished it, and i'm almost done with the series!!!! can't wait to finish this and do midterms.... sorry it looks shit,,, was on a rush to finish this....

TAGS — @sad-darksoul

tags are open!!!

#🌙 — val writes #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru #jjk geto #jjk suguru #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #suguru x reader #geto angst #jjk angst

[rosyjuly]

galex sugar rush au because i've been hooked on this terrible show and i want baker boys pining and whipping up gorgeous desserts.

The whole thing had been George’s idea. 

“No.” 

“Alex, come on,” George had said, trying to catch Alex’s eye, but Alex had been looking away, handsome face scrunched up in a grimace. 

“Be serious now,” Alex had scoffed. He had finished his coffee with one last gulp and sprung to his feet. George threw his paper cup in the trash and followed him inside, looking at the nape of Alex’s neck as they’d crossed out of the courtyard’s sunlight and back into the dark of the kitchen’s staff entrance. 

“I am being serious,” George had said, trying to keep his voice low, avoid drawing attention to the discussion now bordering on an argument. “Listen, it’s fifty grand – think about what we could do with that money.” 

Anyway, they’re watching the episode now with Alex’s siblings, piled too close together on the couch. 

“Don’t you start it without me,” Chloe says, pointing at Alex, when the microwave beeps. Alex’s apartment is only barely bigger than a studio; with the six of them crammed into the makeshift living room it feels practically claustrophobic, a train carriage at peak hour. The old couch doesn’t have the stamina to support three people anymore and every time Alex shifts it sags and sends George and Zoe tumbling down into the middle, the two of them pooling around Alex in a tumble of legs. George keeps his hands in his lap, just in case. 

“I’m telling you,” Alex groans, “you already know the result! Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” 

“If it was a big deal you’d have fucking made something,” Luca says without looking up from his phone. 

“There’s popcorn,” Alex tells him, nodding at Chloe who’s returning with two bowls from the kitchen. 

“Albono, you’re the laziest person I know,” George says. He drags a playful hand through Alex’s hair; the bleached strands are soft between his fingers. 

“I deal with enough food during my day job if you haven’t noticed, thank you very much,” Alex says, rolling his eyes. He doesn’t pull his head away though. He picks up the remote and presses play, which finally shuts everyone up, even if just while Hunter March explains the rules of the chocolate-themed episode. 

“Aww, I didn’t remember you guys had matching little outfits,” Zoe clicks her tongue. 

“George’s idea,” Alex says, reaching around blindly for the popcorn. He’s right. It was: but it’s just blue aprons, nice cotton ones in a deep navy color, big, practical pockets on both sides. George actually wanted headbands, too, but Alex took one look at the bandanas, and said it’s either them or him. It was an easy choice, after that. 

George crosses his arms over his chest as the other teams are introduced. Most of them look smooth, in sync; he’s been trying to avoid stressing about how he and Alex will come across. 

“We’re friends and coworkers,” he sees himself say on screen, over-articulating the words like he does when he’s stressed. Alex next to him looks almost bored, eyebrow half-cocked at the camera. 

“I got him drunk enough to admit that he hired me because he thought I was cute,” Alex says, flashing a bright smirk. 

“For the record, I don't have hiring privileges,” George-on-the-screen says after a guffaw. George remembered feeling caught out: it’s not like Toto hadn’t asked him what he thought of Alex after his trial shift, and Alex was definitely his type: tall and handsome with an attitude. And he hadn’t even bleached his hair back then. 

“Oh, you guys were laying it on pretty thick,” Zoe says, stuffing a handful of popcorn into her mouth. 

George hums, crosses his arm on his chest. He and Alex look like as much of a well-oiled team on screen as they feel in the kitchen, leaning close together over the countertop, notebook spread out in front of them. 

“I think we should do something a bit more out of the box,” George-on-the-screen says, sketching up the bottom of the cupcake. “Peanut butter, raspberry, chili – that’s done and dusted.” 

“Why don’t we do a pistachio one?” Alex says. He draws the frosting, dots the top part of the swirl. “Pair it with some nice dark chocolate in the dough, some crushed nuts on top, hm?” 

In the next interlude, Alex says, his apron clean, his hair artfully swept to one side, “He makes it tasty, I make it look good.” 

George snorts, nudges their knees together. “As if it wasn’t you coming up with that concept and like, half of the others.” 

Alex doesn’t answer, but he presses his leg along George’s. 

George still can’t believe Jacques Torres was in the same room, that he tasted their cupcake and liked it – liked it enough to name them the winners of the first round, blown away by the richness of the frosting, the satisfying, salty crunch of toasted pistachios. 

For the confection, the two other teams already picked ruby chocolate, so they settled on gold instead to set themselves apart. George isn’t sure how much footage will be shown of them – probably more, now that one team’s already been eliminated. But he isn’t prepared for the exact moment when Alex-on–the-screen says, “Why don’t we do ice cream?”, watches with avid mortification how George-on-the-screen immediately nods, face tense, mouth pressed in a thin line. 

“I can do it with liquid nitrogen,” George-on-the-screen offers, already checking the shelves for the equipment. 

“Those glasses are so funny,” Chloe says, phone pointed at the screen. She’s posting a story about it – George can’t wait to see the mocking caption. Better to focus on how silly he looks while he’s taking out the ice cream of the container, goggles and big, rubbery gloves on, instead of the immediacy he seeks to fulfill Alex’s every request. He’s never even used liquid nitrogen before; only knew the technique in theory. And it showed. The ice cream came out a touch too soft. Not even Alex’s carrot cake crumble could save it; the judges were more impressed by the flambéd bananas with the ruby chocolate soufflé. 

But they went through. The girls exhale in relief, and so does George, even though he knows the outcome, has lived it for months now. 

In the final round, they have to create a chocolate wonderland; whatever that means. George remembers the paralyzing fear he felt in the moment, blanking – but Alex was already sketching, his face lit up with excitement, hands moving in sweeping, relaxed motions. 

“And we can do the ferris wheel with salt sticks,” Alex-on-the-screen is saying. 

So they made a realistic Winter Wonderland cake; the fair in a cold, London December, covered in mud instead of snow. A large sheet cake with silky chocolate ganache, on top the barren trees, overpriced amusement rides. 

It must look impressive enough, because even Luca puts his phone away, watches the screen with barely concealed attention. Alex-on-the-screen is making the ganache, pouring heated up heavy cream over the chocolate. When he calls George over for a second opinion, he’s offering the spoon, his other hand cupped under it for any spillage. George-on-the-screen is taken aback, blinking owlishly for a few seconds before snapping out of it and tasting. It was exquisite, of course. 

When they’re done with the assembly and the piping, Alex-on-the-screen asks, “Do you need me to boss you around?” because George keeps hovering at the edge of the shot, fetching salt sticks and shying away from trying to build the freaking carousel. 

“Mate, the editors really liked you,” George snorts, trying to hide his embarrassment. “I had good moments, too! Where are they!”

“Natural charm, what can I say,” Alex says, but he nudges a friendly shoulder against George’s. 

It doesn’t even come as a surprise that they win. Their opponents’ cake was, well, cute, but lacked the kind of single-minded focus Alex and him brought to the table. 

On the screen, he and Alex hug long enough that something starts fizzing in his stomach, hot and uncomfortable. He excuses himself as the music starts up and Hunter March starts thanking them for watching another episode, stares at himself in the bathroom mirror. It can’t be that obvious all the time, he thinks, because otherwise Alex would have noticed it already, would have said something. Anything. 

When he comes out, Alex and Zoe are talking in the kitchen, voices low and hushed. He raps his knuckles lightly against the door. Zoe looks up, face sharp as she says, “I better go, I’m already an hour late to my friends.” Before she leaves, she fixes Alex with one last look that almost makes George flinch. It would be better to flee. Easier, at least. But Alex has always been kind; even if they hadn’t won the prize, if they hadn’t convinced Susie to invest in their confectionery, Alex wouldn’t just blank him. 

The front door closes. The flat is quiet again: it’s just the two of them and the dishes in the sink. George itches to grab a sponge and occupy his hands; shoves them in his pocket instead. 

“Felt weird to see ourselves like that.” 

“Yeah,” Alex says, giving him a small smile. He doesn’t seem mad, truly. “Kinda insane to think about it, still, you know? Winning. Um, the money, of course. Our own place.” He looks down and shakes his head, smiling to himself. 

“We make a good team,” George allows himself to say. 

“We sure do.”

For a few seconds, they watch each other, the silence stretching like a taut bow. Then Alex clears his throat – George tries to steel himself for the blow, school his face into something neutral enough for the rejection. 

“Um. Zoe said,” and he clears his throat again, “she said that I should man up – her words, not mine – that I’ve wasted enough time already.”

“With, uh, with me?” George asks with a valiant attempt to ignore the lump in his throat. 

“Yes– no! Not with the shop, of course, just–” Alex scrubs a hand over his face. “Fuck, I’m getting this all wrong, just, let me–” and then he’s stepping in, cupping George’s nape with a hand as he slots their mouths together. George makes a noise that he’d deny on his deathbed – Alex seems into it anyways, he thinks – and presses closer, kisses him back. 

#would i recomment the show? ehhhh #but it's fun and this is like 1.7k written in a few hours just because #galex #little fic #george/alex #idk my own tagging system but what's new!

[buckys-black-dress]

inked

a/n: here she is!!! while i work on afl, here is my crackfic on tattoo artist bucky!! if u haven’t caught on yet, most of my writing is au’s because of all the possibilites in terms of scenarios and storylines. anyways, i hope you enjoy, lovies!!! xoxo, ali <3

wc: 2.8k 

[tattoo artist!bucky x fem!reader]

-

It was like an addiction. 

Your first tattoo you got was simple. It was a dainty, small one on your wrist.

But now, it was slowly developing into a sleeve.

Not that you minded, though. Your forearm was slowly becoming filled with designs that you kept going back and getting here and there.

And at the tattoo parlor near your apartment in Brooklyn, you had become a regular at this point.

It was called B&R Tattoo Shop, and it was run by two of the kindest, but most attractive men you’ve ever met. 

You’ve come to find out after getting to know the owners, that they opened the shop a bit after they returned from their second tour in the army and wanted to settle back in their hometown.  

Steve and James were hospitable to you, especially when they first met you. Steve was the one to meet you and speak with you at first, but he handed you off to James, or Bucky as he asked you to call him, because he was the artist at their shop that specialized in more of what you were looking for in terms of style. 

As far as first tattoo conversations go, you and Bucky got to know each other pretty well in one session. The tattoo itself took less than an hour, but it felt like Bucky was... prolonging it in a way, like he wanted to keep you there longer.

As you swung open the door of the shop, you were greeted by their piercer, Natasha. 

“Hey, back for another already?” She smirks from her spot behind the desk. While she wasn’t piercing, she usually worked the front if there was no one else free.

Your first tattoo had been done by Bucky, and you instantly fell in love.

With the tattoo. 

Well, Bucky too. Just a little bit.

He was extremely soothing and eased you into the process of tattooing you. He told you when something was going to happen, and as soon as you got used to the feeling of the needle against your skin. 

The more he talked to you, the less pain you felt. It was already not that painful, but you almost forgot about it with him talking to you. When he looked up to you as he finished, you looked like a confused puppy.

“Okay, all done, doll.” Bucky looked up at you, moving to turn off his machine.

“Oh... that was fast.” You furrowed your brows.

“Well, yeah, we moved pretty fast since it was a pretty small piece.” He explains, grabbing a paper towel and the anti-bacterial spray.

“Do you mind if I take a quick picture of it? I usually do, for my portfolio.” Bucky asks, inspecting the tattoo closely once again.

“Oh, yeah, that’s fine.” You wait for him to pull out his camera, take the picture, and he comes back with a piece of plastic film in his hand.

“Okay, so this saniderm has to stay on for about three days. This is how it’ll heal, and when you take it off just wash it up with a gentle soap and use a cream without any fragrance or any of that crap. I can give you a little of that spray if you wanna use it to clean it up if you ever feel like it’s dirty.” Bucky explains, giving you a mini bottle of the antibacterial spray.

“Thank you,” you say, moving to sit up in the chair. “How much do I owe you?”

“Uh, just about $40.” Bucky says without eye contact, heading to the computer at the front counter.

“$40? That’s it? When I signed the waiver it said the shop minimum was $75...?” You wonder out loud.

“Let’s just say you get a special discount, doll.” He smirks, typing something into the computer and only sparing you a glance.

“O-Oh. Alright.” You say sheepishly, handing him your credit card.

“Okay, you’re all set. Hopefully I’ll see you again soon.” He tells you with a gentle smile. It really contrasted his aura; a big, beefy guy with a metal prosthetic arm, covered in probably hundreds of tattoos. But here he was, smiling like sunshine.

“I think I will be. Have a nice day, Bucky.” 

“You too, sweetheart.” He gives you that smirk again, making you feel like you might actually pass out. And not because you just had a needle jabbed into your skin for almost an hour.

“Uh, I already talked to Bucky for my session today. I know I’m a bit early, I can wait if he’s still working on someone else.” You tell Natasha with a smile.

“Sure, let me get you your waiver.” She says, and you plop down into one of the chairs at the front and pulling out your book to pass time after filling out the form.

After a few minutes, Bucky emerges with a girl from his little tattooing corner.

You hear his voice first, looking up from the book while he talks to her.

“Okay, since this was your first piece and pretty small, I’ll only charge ya $55 for it, doll.” Bucky tells the girl with a smile, and you immediately feel a pang in your chest.

You didn’t want to say you were jealous, but goddamn it, your breathing became just a little more shallow at the sight you were currently witnessing.

Even Natasha and Steve turned their heads to him, confused looks on both of their faces.

“Oh! Y/N, you’re here! C’mon back, I’m sure Nat already set you up with your waiver.” You nod, not saying a word as you follow him to the familiar chair.

“So, are we still doing what we discussed on the phone?” Bucky asks, setting up his area to tattoo you.

“Actually, I was thinking something different.” You say sharply.

“Different?” The shock is evident on his features. 

“Yeah. Different. Just want a little something on my collarbone.” You say, sitting down. 

“O-Okay... what were you thinking of?” He asks, pulling out his sketchbook.

“I want an olive branch, going from here to here.” You show him where you want it to start and end. It was a bit of a stretch right across the left side of your chest. “Something simple and minimal. I’ve been thinking of starting the top of my sleeve, this might be a good way to transition into it.” You say nonchalantly.

“Uhm... alright. How does this look?” Bucky asks, showing you his sketch. “I would, of course, add more detail to your liking, just let me know.” 

“Yeah, I want some more shading, please.” You say shortly. You honestly weren’t trying to be mean, but you were irritated.

But in the end, you really had no right to be. 

After almost ten sessions with Bucky, he hasn’t made any indication that he likes you the way you like him.

Sure, he calls you pet names, but he does that to everyone. Even discounts. You weren’t special. He was just being nice and doing his job.

So honestly, you had to cut the act here.

“Are you sure this is what you want? Are you saving the other design for our next session?” Bucky asks, growing more and more concerned with your odd behavior. Usually you would talk to him about your day, how work was, really anything. 

“I don’t know. I think I might ask Steve to do that one instead.” You say out of spite, more than anything. You would never take a design that Bucky made specially for you to another person to tattoo on you, even if it was his own business partner.

“Wha- Why? Did I do something? You’ve been acting really weird today...” Bucky questions you carefully. “Talk to me, doll. Did you have a bad day at work?”

But that, that right there, was your breaking point. Doll. 

“No, I’m fine. Let’s just get this done.” You huff, laying down after nodding to the sketch that Bucky drew out. 

Bucky’s brows furrowed even further, but didn’t ask any more questions. He laid down the stencil and asked if the placement was alright. You looked in the mirror he handed you and nodded briefly. 

The entire time Bucky had the machine in his hand, neither of you spoke a word. He tried to make brief conversation, but you only responded with a hum or nod. 

When he finally finished up, you got up and headed to the counter without a word after looking at the finished tattoo in the mirror. 

Your face was blank, emotionless, and Bucky was truly lost. 

After you paid the full price of your piece, you walked out of the shop, not even sparing anyone a glance. 

Once you left, the shop was dead silent. Everyone either just finished up with a client or didn’t have any at the moment, and the shop was blanketed in an extremely uncomfortable silence.

“What the hell was that, man?” Sam’s voice broke the silence, making Bucky’s head snap towards him. 

“I-I... I have no idea. She was acting so...so weird today.” Bucky looked more confused than ever.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Natasha’s voice cuts through the palpable silence.

“Wh- What the hell did I do? I asked her too, and she didn’t give me an answer...” Bucky mumbles.

“Do you like her?” She fires back with a fire in her eyes.

“W-Well, yeah. She’s a regular.” Bucky answers, looking at his fiddling hands.

“Not like that, you dunce. You know what I mean, don’t act dumb.” Natasha rolls her eyes.

Bucky sighs, not making eye contact yet again.

“I-... I do like her.” He says. “But I don’t think she feels the same.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ... You really are a dumbass.” Sam sighs out.

Steve snorts at his words, nodding in agreement.

“Buck, she got jealous.” He explains, shaking his head at his best friend’s obliviousness.

“J-Jealous? Of what?” Bucky scoffs in shock.

“That girl you had right before her. Gave her a discount, called her pet names. The whole shabang.” Natasha points out to him. “Also, you gotta stop giving out discounts like that. You’ll lose more money than you’re makin’.” Natasha scoffs. 

“Wh- But... She never said anything...?” Bucky thinks back to all the times you’ve sat in his chair. You never made any indication that you were outwardly interested in him.

“I think she said enough today without actually saying much.” Steve laughs. His friend was a real idiot.

“I... But, why didn’t she say anything before?” Bucky asked.

“Buck, you never said anything either. I guess that when she heard you talk to that girl like that, she thought you really didn’t like her like that at all. You treated that girl the same way you treat her.” Natasha explains to Bucky, who had a look of realization on his face.

“But... I was just... being nice...” He says with his head in his hands. 

“Well, now she thinks you do that with all you clients, so...” Sam says, making the brunet’s head shoot up.

“Fuck. Fuck. I fucked up everything!” He exclaims. “I-I do like her!” 

“Well, don’t tell us that, tell her!” Sam shouts back to him, and before Bucky can process, he’s pulling out his phone and dialing your phone number.

“C’mon, pick up, pick up,” He mumbles repeatedly, but the call goes to voicemail. “Fuck.”

“Not pickin’ up?” Steve questions, coming to the front and picking up the shop phone. “Gimme her number, she’s doesn’t have to shop saved to her phone, right?” 

“No, I don’t think she does.” Bucky says, watching as Steve dials your number.

“Hello?” Your voice sounds annoyed as it filters through the phone. “Who’s this?” 

“Uh, Y/N! Hi!” Steve speaks, looking at Bucky in a panic, his facial expression screaming, ‘talk to her!’ 

“Steve? What’s up?” You ask, wondering what he needed. 

“You uhh... you forgot your book here!” He blurts out, trying to find an excuse, but quickly found one upon seeing your book resting on the seat where you were waiting. 

“O-Oh... I guess I’ll just turn around. I’ll be there in a few. Thanks, Steve.” You say, ready to hang up.

“O-Okay. Bye, Y/N.” He clears his throat, hanging up. “You have like, ten minutes to get your shit together and talk to her when she gets here. Good luck.” Steve pats Bucky on the shoulder, ready to haul Natasha and Sam to the back to give you two some privacy.

Bucky thought that this was the longest ten minutes of his life, and he was trying to conjure up a speech in his head to confess to you.

Finally, when you did appear through the doors, you looked lost. You only saw Bucky, which made you even more aggravated from the fact that you had to turn back around.

You were ready to head home and wallow in peace, but alas, you wanted your book. 

Bucky just watched as you picked up the book from his grasp across the desk, your eyes not meeting his while he kept his gaze on you very intently. 

Just as you turned around to leave, Bucky’s voice cut through the unbearable silence.

“Y/N?” He simply asks, and you feel like the wind’s been knocked out of your lungs at the sound of his small voice. This wasn’t the Bucky you knew and... loved.

“Yes, James?” You simply respond, and Bucky cringes at the sound of his first name being used. 

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

“...Why? Is everything alright?” And although your voice didn’t give it away, you felt your heart drop to your stomach. Any possible scenario popped into your head. He has a girlfriend. He’s gonna tell you he doesn’t wanna see you anymore. He-

“E-Everything’s fine, doll. Just wanted to tell you that... That I...” Bucky’s voice sounded strained, like there was something caught in his throat.

“Bucky, just spit it out.” You say, wanting to leave already.

“It’s just- I like you. A lot. And I’m so sorry for earlier with that other client. I was just trying to be nice, but I realized how that looked to you, and I never thought anything of it because I didn’t know if you liked me back or-” Bucky was rambling, and your eyes were wide as saucers.

“Bucky, Bucky stop. Let me talk before you drive your own head in with conclusions,” you say, resting your hand on top of his on the desk.

“I like you a lot, too. I didn’t think you like me either because of that girl before me. You just- you treated her the same way you treated me, and I got jealous. I know I didn’t have the right to be, but it just made me think that... that you didn’t feel the same way about me, that I was just another client to you. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions, and also for being kind of a bitch to you...” Now you were the one rambling, your hands flying all over the place in explanation.

“D-Doll, I never wanted to make you feel that way. I’m sorry, too. I should’ve told you before, before I almost blew everything with you that we’ve been building these past months.” He says placing one large tattooed hand and one metal hand on the sides of your face. “But I’m not gonna miss my chance again. Y/N, would you like to go on a date with me?”

“I-I would love to, Bucky. Took you long enough to ask me.” You giggle, holding onto the hands on your face.

“Yeah, well, I’m kind of an idiot, if you haven’t already noticed.” He laughs, gazing into your eyes with a look that almost turned you to mush in his hands. 

“Do... do ya wanna go now?” You ask, nodding your head to the door.

“Sure, let me go grab my jacket from the back.” He tells you, and you nod, watching as he keeps his eyes on you until he disappears to the back.

“My man, who would’ve thought you’d finally man up?” Sam ridicules him as soon as Bucky appears.

“Dude, shut up. I got a date to get to, see you losers later.” He rolls his eyes, moving back out where you’re smiling at him.

“Ready, angel?” Bucky asks, slipping his hand into yours.

“Ready, handsome.” You reply, and as soon as you step out into the fall air, you plant a kiss on his cheek. “Where to, lover boy?”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fic #tattoo artist!bucky #tattoo artist!bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst

[danielxricciardo]

Hi love the writing! Could you do something angsty around 26 or 35 with max??

Summary: You found out Max cheated on you

Warnings: angst, swearing

Word count: 2.5k

26. “Those things you said yesterday, did you mean them?”

35. “What will you do if we break up?”

'Max is looking at you' you read what your best friend Anthony, an engineer at Red Bull Racing, wrote.

And you worked at Red Bull Racing too, you decided with Max Verstappen, your boyfriend, that this is the best way for you to travel with him. You didn't have a complicated job. You dealt with filtering the negative ad on the team and then you gave it to Victoria to deal with the articles as she knew.

'Okay, let him look,' you write on the piece of paper that Anthony wrote quickly on.

You were at a meeting with all the Red Bull Racing employees, to your bad luck. Being in the same room with Max Verstappen was the last thing you wanted at the time.

Sure, your relationship was beautiful, or it had been anyway. He was whatever you wished from a man and more. He looked like a bad boy but he was the cutest and most thoughtful man you knew and he made you feel safe even when you couldn't see him.

His words still resonate in your mind and you had to make a supernatural effort not to cry.

You knew Max Verstappen loved you. He told you that every day and showed you through the gestures he made. He never gave you a reason to doubt him, and you didn't look for scandal either.

But every time you saw her, a lump appeared in your stomach. Without wanting to, you became careful around you, looking for her or Max. When you saw them talking, you looked for any excuse to go near them.

But your fear was unfounded, wasn't it? Max loved you, you were together for two years and you were fine.

But you also looked at her. She had also had a long-term relationship with Daniil Kvyat, a relationship of almost three years and they have a little girl together. There can be nothing between them.

Anthony has told you several times that Max and Kelly have been spending a lot of time together, at least lately, and you said you weren't worried. Why would you be?

But last night all your worries and fears came upon you at once. Anthony told you he saw Max leave the paddock with Kelly and didn't come back for about three hours. He didn't want to pay attention to this thing but when Anthony went to the driver to show him some sketches he noticed a small bruise on the backside of his neck.

"Really?" he tells you laughing. "How old are you to leave hickeys on your skin? Only teenagers still do that."

You felt all the color drained from your face. Hickey? You never left anything like that on his skin.

Anthony probably realized that what he said was not about you.

"Y/N... I'm so sorry..."

"It's ok," you say and smile at him even though you wanted to die at that moment. "I need a little bath, I'll be right back," you say and get up from the chair.

You started crying in the bathroom. You were disappointed, scared, disgusted, and shocked. To learn that someone you trusted unconditionally had been lying, cheating, and had developed an emotional bond with another woman behind your back was not registering in your brain.

Yes, you weren't a model, you didn't look like one, but Max always told you that you were perfect and that no other woman compares to you.

You literally could not wrap your head around what was happening...

You hoped that your darkest thoughts would never come true, but they did. Max and Kelly. Together. Behind your back.

It feels like every nerve in your body has either frozen or left your vessel completely. Your body literally enters a state of shock; adrenaline. You are absolutely stripped. Vulnerability. Disbelief. Disgust. Horror. Anger. Confusion. Shattering, crippling, traumatizing heartbreak.

Trust, honesty, and respect are necessary for a relationship, and Max just shattered all three at once. You have been the victim of an emotional crime. You ask yourself, how could this person fuck me over like this?

I trusted them.

I loved them.

I was loyal to them.

I kept my end of the fucking bargain.

How could you emotionally manipulate me?

What was I lacking?

Am I the problem?

Truly sickening, reality-twisting, mind-fucking stuff. You just couldn't believe that this was happening to you. Infidelity is something you hear about quite often, in books, movies, the media, or to other people, but not to you. This was somebody you loved with all of your heart, who told you he loved you, who had never shown the slightest inclination of dishonesty or moral transgression or disloyalty.

"Y/N, are you okay?" you heard Anthony behind the door, the fear and worry present in his voice.

"I'm fine," you say, though no one would have believed you. "I'll be there in a moment."

You splashed some water on your face, looked in the mirror, and bit your lip. You looked like hell. The eyes were red, the small veins that irrigated the eyeballs were broken, the face was red, in a combination between the violent crying crisis and the anger you had.

What were you going to do? Will you pretend you didn't know anything? Will you tell him you knew? Were you going to break up with him or were you going to wait for him to break up with you to be with Kelly?

You finally came out of the bathroom and Anthony was waiting for you at the door. He hugged you tight and assured you that everything would be fine. But he had no way of knowing that. It was nothing more than his simple hope that his best friend would not lose her fucking mind.

The phone starts ringing. Anthony lets you go and he goes to see who's calling you. He gives you a worried look. You immediately realized that it was Max who was calling you. Tears began to flow down your cheeks again and Anthony took your reaction as an invitation for him to answer the phone.

"Hey, man," he replies, and you don't hear what Max is saying. "No, she went for a coffee and left her phone on the table. Okay, I'll tell her. Okay, bye."

You approach him after he's finished the call to make sure you don't hear Max's voice.

"He said to go to his room."

"I don't want to see him."

"I realized that. Let's go, we'll deal with this problem later."

You went for a walk. The fresh air calmed you down a bit, but you had all kinds of thoughts in your mind.

How many times has this happened? Did you really want to know that? You really wanted to know how many times he kissed her and then he would come to you and tell you that he loves you.

If Anthony hadn't seen the hickey, how many more times did he planned to cheat on you?

Did he love her? That would have hurt you the most, knowing that you failed to give Max the love he needed and had to look for it in the arms and bed of another woman.

"Just know that I understand your feelings. I've been through this myself." Anthony breaks the silence and you look at him. "To be cheated on, it's a feeling of helplessness and zero self-worth. You feel as if you didn't do enough for that person which is why they reached out for someone else sexually or romantically. You blame it on yourself half the time. You dig for answers in your memories to try to figure out where you went wrong, where things started to go in a different direction. You hope that it won't happen again. You hope that the saying "once a cheater, always a cheater" it's just a myth. They broke your trust, how could you ever trust them again, right? You become paranoid when they go out at night or they don't answer your phone calls by the first ring. You find yourself having more down and depressed days than happy days. And a lot of questions will always replay in the back of your mind. Why? Why now? Why with them? How could this be happening to you? No matter how many times you get an answer, it won't be enough. Day after day, it'll get better but worse at the same time."

After two hours you returned to the paddock. You were immediately notified that Max was looking for you everywhere and he was worried he couldn't find you. Ironic, isn't it?

"Y/N!" you hear Max's voice.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Anthony asks, standing in front of you to block your image of Max.

"No, it's okay. I'll handle it somehow..."

Anthony nods and leaves, staring angrily at Max.

"Hey, I was looking for you everywhere. Are you okay? Your eyes are a little red." he asks and if you didn't know better you'd think he cared.

"Let's go somewhere private."

You went to his room. You sat on his bed and thought about what you could say. You were thinking about what Anthony told you when you walked together.

Max hands you a dose of Red Bull and you take it, feeling your throat very dry.

"We need to talk," you tell him and you feel your eyes start to sting. It was not yet time to start crying.

"Okay? Is something wrong?"

"Is it true what Anthony told me?" you ask and you see that Max doesn't know what you mean; how would he know? "Is it true that you and Kelly spent some time together?"

His face went blank for a moment as he tried to understand.

"What you mean?"

You reach out your trembling hand to the collar of his polo shirt to lower it where Anthony told you it was the mark.

And Anthony was right. There was, in front of you, the hickey Kelly made on him.

Max didn't expect that. He looks at you with wide eyes and you hear his heart start beating harder. Sweat dripped down his forehead.

He looked away from you, numb. You discovered his secret. You didn't know if he was afraid of your reaction or sorry you found out his little secret.

"I didn't intend to hurt you," he says, and you realize he's telling the truth.

He had a guttural voice.

You smile at them. A broken smile that hid the primordial desire to cry and hit him with all your best.

"I don't care about your intentions. They're irrelevant. You didn't intend to hurt me? Well, you didn't intentionally try to keep me from harm either."

You don't know where you had the strength to look into his eyes and not cry. Max looks crushed. Because you found out? Because you're breaking up? Because he has to put an end to the affair with Kelly?

"How long was it actually going on before I found out?"

You see Max trying to think of an answer that doesn't affect you so much or destroy you at all.

"For less than a month," he answers.

One month? Where were you a month ago? In Spain. Did something happen there? Did you notice anything strange about him? To his behavior? No. You didn't notice anything.

Was he really that good at hiding his mistakes?

That, of course, if he considers the relationship with Kelly a mistake.

"Did you ever think of me when you were with her?"

He did not answer. You didn't even know if you wanted to know the answer to that. What would it be like to answer that he never thought of you and that his mind was soaked in serotonin that only Kelly could think of those moments?

"I never stopped loving you."

"I don't believe you loved me while you were cheating on me. Love and betrayal are incompatible. I don't feel safe with that kind of 'love.'"

"So? You're breaking up with me?" Max asks.

Although you still had so much to say, you no longer had the power. You were so mentally and physically exhausted that you just wanted to be alone and cry.

"There's nothing else to do, is there?" you say and leave his room.

Anthony was waiting for you. He noticed that you had no tears on your face and frowned.

"What happened? Did you guys make up?"

You hug Anthony hard and cry. At that moment you gave up being strong. You gave up pretending, even in front of you, that you were fine.

Fuck it, you weren't fine. You were far from fine.

You looked back at Christian Horner, who was presenting something on the video projector. You lost the whole meeting with the crew. You had no idea what was being said.

Honestly, you don't even care what they said. You only worked there because you were Max Verstappen's girlfriend. But for eighteen hours, this was no longer true. So what's stopping you from going to Christian and telling him you're resigning? What keeps you from going home and forgetting about Max, forgetting the last two years of your life and starting over?

"That's it for today, thank you very much, friends, and let's get back to work, yeah?"

Everyone gets up from their seats. Anthony draws your attention and beckons you to look at the garage door.

You could faint then and there. No one and nothing ever prepared you for the emotions you were experiencing then. Kelly Piquet was at the garage door, waiting for the meeting to end. She was staring at Max, but he was just looking at you.

"Can we talk a little?"

You nod to Anthony that you're fine and he can leave. You look at Max and you see that he doesn't look very good. He had dark circles and you're sure he didn't sleep last night either, just like you.

“Those things you said yesterday, did you mean them?” he asks, looking down at his shoes.

"Yes," you answer categorically, looking at his face, waiting for him to raise his head so you can look him in the eye.

“What will you do if we break up? You will leave here or-” you interrupt him.

"Not 'if I break up with you,' we've already gotten over it," you say and Max looks at you with wide eyes. "We already broke up last night. I'm still here because I haven't had a chance to talk to Christian yet to tell him I'm resigning."

"Are you leaving?"

"I have nothing to do here. I came to Red Bull Racing for you."

A tear runs down Max's cheek.

"What can I tell you to stay?"

"There's nothing left to say. Now go," you say and you feel a lump in your throat. "She's waiting for you."

Max turns to the garage door to see who you're talking about.

"I gave her a text message last night and told her it was all a mistake between us."

You smile at him. "Goodbye, Max," you say then you shout for Christian.

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen oneshot #max verstappen #f1 fanfiction #f1 oneshot #f1 one shot #formula 1 oneshot #f1 fandom #f1 2021 #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #red bull racing #formula one oneshot #formula one imagine #forumula one #formula one #formula 1

[earliebirb]

nosedive

steve/tony, fluff, (newly) established relationship, 3250 words

Tony stares absentmindedly out the airplane window as he puts his phone up to his ear, watching people run back and forth, performing last-minute engine checks. Some of the guys look sweaty and out of breath.

From the comfort of the air-conditioned Stark Industries private jet, he feels a slight twinge of sympathy for the people having to suffer in the humid summer heat.

He loosens his tie and sinks deeply into his seat, closing his eyes with a massive yawn as he listens to the ringing tone. He hadn’t been able to sleep very well throughout his five-day stay in Tokyo, too anxious about the contract to rest properly. 

The ringing tone goes on for a few more seconds before ending with a click, replaced by an achingly familiar voice greeting him in his ear. 

“Hello?” 

Tony’s eyes spring open. Outside, an aircraft marshaller walks by, speaking rapidly into his walkie-talkie.

“I had a blueberry muffin for lunch today. One single blueberry muffin.”

“...What?”

“It didn’t even taste that good. I couldn’t finish it. Too dry.”

“Tony, that’s not good. Is that all you had for lunch? You should really eat—”

“The meeting went well, by the way. Mr. Watanabe finally signed the contract, everything went as planned. My ride to the airport, however…”

“I told you things would go smoothly, you had nothing to worry about. You’re a brilliant negotiator—”

“The traffic? Fuck. I had to keep shifting in my seat to avoid pins and needles.”

“That sounds awful, are your legs okay—”

“Did you know that Tokyo is number nineteen on the list of cities with the worst traffic congestion in the world? I know that, because I looked it up on the way to the airport. But boy, did it feel like it deserved the number one spot. I think I lost feeling in my ass.”

“I did not know that. And, uh, is your ass okay—”

“Thank God for my private jet. These plush seats are the best things I’ve ever spent my money on.”

“That’s objectively not true, and you know it—”

“Then again, I think these seats in particular were Pepper’s choice? We remodeled the airplane’s interior like… two years ago. I couldn’t be bothered to meet with the airplane seat people and I just told her to pick whichever looked best. I had much more important things to tend to, like sewing up the holes in JARVIS’s Christmas stocking.”

“I am concerned about how you sort your list of priorities—”

“Hm, that’s right. I think it was around two, three weeks before Christmas and I didn’t want JARVIS to be upset about the whole stocking thing, you know?”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t have—”

“Also, you’re right, the single blueberry muffin was a bad idea because now my stomach won’t shut up. So I’ve ordered some pasta for my in-flight meal. Robbie’s making it, you’ve met Robbie—”

“I’ve met Robbie, yes, he’s—”

“Larry’s replacement after he resigned. Gotta say, I was sad to see Larry go. Guy worked for me for seven years. But then there was that thing with his grandma, and he had to leave, so… But! Robbie makes a mean carbonara, maybe even better than Larry, don’t tell Larry I said that—”

“I don’t even know Larry like that, how would I—”

“Mr. Stark, we’re ready to go.” The pilot—Paul—emerges from the cockpit, staring at him in anticipation.

Tony nods and makes a few rapid gestures with his free hand that he supposes Paul is only able to interpret perfectly after years and years of working for Tony. The gestures roughly translate to something like “Copy, I hear you, just let me wrap this up and then I’ll let you know when I’m done. Capiche?”

Paul—bless him—just gives him a curt nod and retreats back into the cockpit. 

“Anyway,” Tony takes a deep breath and puffs his cheeks out with the exertion of his exhale, “I called because… I got a feeling, Steve.”

“A… feeling?”

“Just— A gut feeling. A feeling in your gut. Inside of me. Like a hunch?”

“Okay,” Steve says patiently, his voice low and warm, “what are you feeling?”

“I… got a bad feeling. Today. A few hours ago. The feeling came to me when I was sitting in traffic, and I just— I feel like something bad’s gonna happen today, Steve. I can feel it in the air. In my heart. In my gut. In my joints.”

“Your joints? Like… the feeling old people get when it’s about to rain?”

“Okay, maybe not in my joints. Also, are you calling me old, grandpa?”

“I did not, you told me you felt something in your—”

“Anyway, so yeah. Where was I? Oh, right. Feeling. Bad feeling. Like, like, I don’t know, something bad’s gonna happen. Like an accident. Like a plane crash.”

“God, please don’t say that. You’re scaring me, Tony.”

“And I guess, I just called because I… I feel like I need to do this before the plane crashes and I die a violent and fiery death.”

“Nothing bad’s going to happen, Tony—”

“Like, if I didn’t do this today, maybe I’d never get to do it, you know? And, uh, okay, I’ve honestly been ranting to stall for time, but the longer I keep it in the more nauseous I feel, so maybe I’m just gonna do it now so I can die in peace—”

“Do what? And stop saying that—”

“Look, I’m trying to be brave and honest here and— Wait, actually? Maybe I’m being a coward because if the plane actually does go down, I won’t have to face the consequences of my actions, so I guess I’m just going to say fuck it, and say that I love you.”

“The plane is not going to— Wait, what?”

“I, uh. Love you. I’ve known it for a while now. And, uh, I know we’ve only been dating for like, a week, but—” Tony blinks. They’ve only been dating for a week. 

“...Fuck.” Tony can feel his own pulse starting to race. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Tony?”

They’ve only been dating for a week. What is he doing? What the hell is wrong with him? Normal people don’t do this. 

“Fuck. Shit, I mean— Uh, I’m sorry. That was super weird, huh?” Tony laughs nervously. He closes his eyes, gritting his teeth and cursing his stupid brain. Of course it’s weird. He always gets too attached to people way too quickly. No wonder Pepper was his only long term relationship. She was the only person who could put up with him—everyone else just got weirded out. “Uh, see you tomorrow? Or not. Fuck, sorry, I’m just gonna hang up before this gets—”

“Tony, wait.”

“...Yeah?” Tony says, hyper-aware of how breathless he sounds. His heartbeat is ringing in his ears. Everything is going to be fine. Right? Right. The worst thing Steve could do is… break up with him.

Oh, God, that is the worst case scenario. He really should’ve just kept his stupid mouth shut. 

“Tony, are you freaking out? I feel like I can hear you freaking out from all the way over here.”

“No, I’m not, of course I’m not. Who says I’m freaking out? You have no proof. I am calm, I’m calm as a clam, is that the saying? Did I get it right? Or was it happy— Anyway, I am absolutely calm, I’m the calmest I could possibly be. Any calmer and I’d be asleep. I’m—”

“Tony. Breathe.”

Tony forces himself to drag in a slow breath as he grips the arm of his seat with his free hand, focusing on the soothing hum of the airplane’s engine.

“Look, Tony, I—”

“No, listen. I’m sorry I jumped the gun, I hope I haven’t weirded you out or anything. You really, really don’t have to say it back to me. I mean it.”

“Tony—”

“No, in fact— Please don’t say anything. It’s fine. Let’s just pretend this never happened, okay?”

“But—”

“Drop it, Steve. Please?” Tony pleads. Clearly, his brain hadn’t been firing on all cylinders. That is the only reason that could explain his temporary lapse of judgment. “Look, I feel like talking about it more right now is going to send me spiraling into a panic attack.”

“...Okay. Fine.”

“Thank you. Uh, I’ll see you when I get home. If I get home. If the plane doesn’t crash. Haha.”

“Would you please stop saying that? It’s not funny.”

Tony latches onto the change in topic like a lifeline. “It is objectively true, you know. In order for me to be able to see you tomorrow, the plane has to land safely, and unfortunately, some things are just beyond my control. Like, who’s to say the plane won’t explode mid-air and—”

“The plane is going to land safely and you’re going to come back home to me in one piece. This is non-negotiable, Tony. You hear me?” Steve demands, his voice all hard authority and no-nonsense, like there will be Consequences should Tony fail to comply. 

As if he could ensure Tony’s safety with the force of his willpower alone. 

Come back home to me. 

That sounds good. Really good. Tony closes his eyes and pictures Steve’s baby blues in his mind’s eye. Warmth flowers in his chest.

“I hear you.”

“Great.”

“Awesome. I, uh, I gotta go now.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“See you.”

Tony hangs up and lets Paul know that he is done with his phone call. The jittery feeling left over from his call with Steve refuses to leave him, however, so he pulls up the drawing application on his phone and begins sketching something just to give his brain something else to fixate on.

He tends to lose track of time when he is hyperfocused on a project, so he isn’t exactly surprised that the next time he becomes aware of his surroundings, the plane is already well up in the air, his sketch of what looks like a flying coffee pot is almost finished, and Robbie is placing a plate of spaghetti carbonara on the table in front of him. 

“Spaghetti carbonara. With extra cheese.”

Tony’s mouth waters as he eyes the mountain of grated Pecorino Romano sitting atop the pasta. He sighs dreamily and smiles up at Robbie.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“Enjoy, Boss.” Robbie grins and slips back into the kitchen.

He only realizes just how truly famished he is after taking his first bite, and proceeds to finish the rest of his meal with gusto. Afterward, he spends the majority of the remaining flight time sleeping, the result of post-carbonara food coma and his sleep-deprivation finally catching up to him. 

It’s well past two in the morning when Tony finally makes it to his floor in the Tower, which is why he is surprised to see Steve sitting on his couch, one of Tony’s fantasy novels open in hand. 

“Steve, what are you doing here?”

Steve’s head snaps up at the sound of his voice. Tony frowns. “Actually, why are you awake at all?” He is usually an early sleeper, unless—

“Nightmare?” Tony gives him a sympathetic smile. It wouldn’t be the first time. In the early days of their friendship, Tony and Steve would sit together in the living room whenever they had trouble sleeping, talking to each other until the sun came up.

Steve shakes his head, closing the book with his eyes still trained on Tony. “No, I was just… waiting for you.” Tony blinks. 

“It’s…” Tony glances at his watch. “Half past two. In the morning.”

“I know, I just…” Steve stands up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. He ambles over before coming to a stop right in front of Tony. “I wanted to see you.”

Tony stares at him uncomprehendingly. “You’ll see me later anyway.”

“I couldn’t wait any longer. I didn’t want to go to sleep without seeing you first,” Steve says, low and earnest. His gaze wanders around Tony’s face, as if he were cataloguing each and every facial feature and trying to locate any changes he might’ve missed during his absence.

“Oh.”

Steve steps closer, arms snaking around Tony’s waist and pulling him close. His next words are whispered against Tony’s shoulder.

“I knew you’d make it home safely.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You were wrong.”

“I was… wrong.” Tony swallows. “Uh, turns out the bad feeling completely disappeared after I woke up from my nap on the plane, so I suspect that perhaps the bad feeling I got was due to my severe hunger and sleep deprivation. I mean, I’ve heard about hallucinations caused by hunger or exhaustion, but this was—” 

Steve presses a soft kiss to the column of Tony’s neck, effectively cutting off Tony’s ramblings.

“Tony,” Steve whispers against his skin.

“Yeah?” Tony squeaks.

“Please don’t call me before a flight and say that you think the plane is going to crash, ever again.”

“Right. Noted. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Steve says, pulling away slightly and loosening his hold around Tony.

Tony allows himself to relax, letting out a quiet sigh. This thing with Steve is so new and delicate that every single physical contact still sends his heart fluttering, butterflies going crazy in his stomach.

Which makes, in retrospect, his abrupt love confession—as truthful as it was—that much more insane. God, Stark. Never do that again.

Except, it turns out that Steve only pulled away to slide his hands down the back of Tony’s thighs, wrapping his hands around them, and then lifting him up without warning.

Tony yelps, and in his alarm, promptly locks his ankles around Steve’s waist. When Steve begins moving, Tony quickly wraps his arms around Steve, resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder.

“Uh, Steve?”

“Hm?” Steve says, calm and nonchalant, as he begins walking away from the elevator. 

“Um— Wait— My suitcase—”

“Leave it. It’ll still be there in the morning.”

Tony blinks, staring dumbfoundedly at his lonely suitcase, abandoned by the elevator. It becomes smaller and smaller with every step Steve takes. 

“Where are we going?”

“Your bedroom.”

“Why are you carrying me there?”

“Because I want to.”

“You know it’ll be faster if you just let me walk, right?”

“Maybe. But you won’t be in my arms.”

“Um.”

“Bear with me, will you? I missed you.”

“I, uh, missed you too.”

Steve hums, satisfied. Tony lets himself settle more comfortably in Steve’s arms.

When Steve has successfully carried him to his bedroom, Tony fully expects Steve to deposit him on the bed. 

That is not, in fact, what happens. 

Instead, Steve turns around and begins walking backwards towards the bed before sitting down on it. Tony, still seated on his lap, swallows and pulls back slightly to look at Steve. 

“Look, Steve, as much as I’ve missed you, I’m kind of tired right now. I mean, don’t get me wrong. This whole carrying thing? Great. Very romantic. Ten out of ten. But I’m just not in the mood for sex, you know? Like, I’m not even sure I would be able to get it up if—”

“We’re not going to have sex.”

Tony blinks.

“We’re not?”

“We’re not. I’m just here to tuck you in.”

“Oh.”

Steve reaches up and begins undoing his tie. After setting it aside on the bed, he begins to unbutton Tony’s shirt. He takes his time, one button at a time.

“So…” Steve begins with a deep breath as he unbuttons the final button. “Did you mean, uh, what you said to me? On the phone?”

Tony closes his eyes, feels his own cheeks heating up. “Steve—”

“I’m sorry, Tony, I know you told me to drop it. But— I feel like if you did mean what you said, I owe it to you to… set the records straight.” When Tony opens his eyes again, Steve is looking up at him, blue eyes solemn.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… We have only been together for a week. Well, eight days. In fact, we’ve only been on one date. And it was interrupted. By giant lizards.” Steve chuckles incredulously. 

Tony remembers that day very well. They were in the middle of dessert at Tony’s favorite Italian place when they received the call to assemble—something about giant lizards wreaking havoc in Central Park.

The lizards had green, gunky blood that got into the nooks and crannies of the suit. It had taken forever to clean.

“But Tony…” Steve gathers the material of Tony’s unbuttoned shirt in both of his fists, pulling him closer until their noses are only inches apart.

The second their eyes meet, Steve smiles the sweet, lopsided smile that never fails to make Tony’s stomach flip.

“I need you to know that… I didn’t have to date you to know that I loved you. I figured that a long time ago.”

Tony stills, breath frozen in his lungs.

“I guess, what I’m saying is… I love you too. I’ve loved you for a very long time, Tony. Even way before—” Steve breaks eye contact, looks down as he clears his throat. When he speaks again, his voice is tight. “Way before we got together. I’m talking… years before.”

Tony still finds it hard to breathe. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, the word more breath than sound. He meets Tony’s dazed gaze. “So you don’t have to worry about… jumping the gun. Not with me. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“...Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Tony feels a lightness growing inside of him, spreading outwards to his extremities.

“Good.” Steve smiles, warm and impossibly fond.

“...Glad we’re on the same page.” Tony’s gaze drops down to Steve’s lips.

“We are.” Steve inches closer, nose brushing Tony’s. He then tilts his head ever so slightly and takes Tony’s lower lip between his, kissing him so tenderly Tony’s heart feels like it’s about to burst with it.

Steve’s warm hands slide up Tony’s naked back under his open shirt, sending goosebumps breaking across his skin. Tony buries his hands in Steve’s hair and relishes the feeling of the soft strands caught between his fingers. They stay caught up in each other for a few moments, capturing and releasing each other’s lips until the need for breath becomes too unbearable.

They break apart eventually, accompanied by soft chuckles. Steve smiles up at him, lips slick and cherry red, courtesy of Tony. He reaches up to caress Tony’s right eyebrow with the pad of his thumb, fleeting and affectionate.

“Get some rest, okay? You must be really tired. I should probably go to bed, too.”

Tony looks down at his lap, clearing his throat. “Uh, I know that we haven’t done this before, but…”

Steve waits patiently for Tony to gather his thoughts, hands stroking up and down Tony’s sides.

“Do you want to stay with me tonight?” Tony finds the courage to meet Steve’s eyes, holding his breath.

Steve’s blue eyes are gazing at him intently, looking at him like he’s the only person in the world worth his sole, undivided attention.

Tony swallows. “No sex. Just to sleep. If you—”

“Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“I would like that very much.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Tony feels his own lips slowly curve up into a smile, wide and unbridled. 

“Good.” Steve nods, lips twitching, his eyes never leaving Tony’s. 

Tony grins, feeling near giddy with delight. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

“We are, sweetheart.” Steve looks up at him, blue eyes fond and smile radiant. “We definitely are.”

#stevetony #stevetony fic #stony #stony fic #superhusbands #steve/tony #steve x tony #mine #earl wrote something

[wherethewordsare]

I’ll Stay with You

Hey everyone, a little up front, this is a major character death fic and nearly 4k long. Be advised. Content warnings include: Bloody and Injury, Fatal Injury, Major Character Death, and Implied misuse of potions. Please be advised before reading! Thank you!

~

There had been no warning. Only the sound of a sword being drawn above him woke Jaskier from an already fitful sleep. He just managed to roll out of the way, Geralt’s name already on his lips. 

A firm arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him down to the ground as a volley of arrows whizzed overhead, close enough to ruffle his hair. His heart hammered as they stood, each taking defensive positions. 

It hadn’t been the first platoon Nilfgaard had sent for his witcher and it wouldn’t be the last, but Jaskier would die on his feet before he let anything happen to Geralt. His own short sword connected with flesh and he yanked it back again before swinging for the next soldier. His form had gotten better and he had learned to fight, not just slash and hack under Geralt’s tutelage. 

He wasn’t a witcher though. He wasn’t able to hear the notch of a bow and the release of an arrow as it flew through the throng and buried itself into his thigh. 

Jaskier cried out but kept his feet. He still fought though he was growing faint and the hot wetness that was soaking the outside of his trousers was too much too fast. They needed to get away. 

“Geralt!” He yelled and the witcher was there, his arm wrapped tightly around Jaskier’s middle, pulling him close. 

“Hold on,” Geralt breathed against his shoulder. Magic vibrated in the air around them as Geralt let loose an aard, sending soldiers flying back from them and then another wave of magic as Jaskier broke the talisman around his neck. 

A one way portal dropped them into another clearing miles north of where they had been. Jaskier fell to the ground, gasping as his fingers fumbled for the arrow that was still buried in his leg. 

“Geralt, fuck, help.” He shook as he looked down. There was far too much blood. Even Geralt seemed to go pale as he looked down at the damage. Most of their packs were back where they had been ambushed. The only thing left to them was what Geralt had grabbed, Jaskier’s own pack with only his notebook, a spare shirt, and a salve for minor cuts. 

“Hold on, Jaskier, hold on.” Geralt moved quickly, making quick work of the spare shirt, tearing it into strips and tying above the wound. “Here, take my hand,” he whispered, his voice gentle, his eyes wide with fear. 

 “Geralt- Geralt, dear heart. Listen…” Jaskier swallows and takes Geralt’s hands, lacing their fingers and squeezing as tightly as he can. “If I don’t make it, if you have to go on-” 

Before he could finish his thought, Geralt pulled the arrow from his leg in one smooth motion. Jaskier screamed through clenched teeth, his body shaking from it. Geralt was quick to bandage him up, all the while murmuring softly to Jaskier. 

“There’s an oversized bed with your name on it at the keep, you just have to stay with me,” Geralt said, his eyes never leaving the wound. 

Jaskier took back Geralt’s hand after it was done with the bandages and squeezed it again, this time barely having the strength to press down into that firm palm. 

“Always, dear heart, always going to stay with you.” He licked his lips and gave a wet laugh. It was now or never or he was going to go to his very early grave regretting it. 

“I know where we are. This is the tail end of the path into the Blue Mountains. We’re so close I can smell Eskel’s goats.” Geralt was worried. He only talked like this with sick children and shriveled old women he couldn’t save. 

Jaskier only swallowed and nodded. They set camp that night and in the morning began the long and painful trek into the mountains. 

~

Three days. They had been on the move for three days. Every hour, Jaskier could feel his strength leaving him and every hour he tried to make Geralt face him, to hear the words he needed to say before…

Jaskier sat against a cave wall, shivering as sweat soaked through his shirt. His leg had been itching like mad since he had woken up and he feared that there had been more to that arrow than just steel. He wondered if Geralt had smelled it on him, if that was what was causing the Witcher to climb as quickly as they could into the mountains, to where there might be safety. 

He looked across the small fire where Geralt cooked two winter-thin hares. He looked haggard with the closest thing Jaskier had ever seen to true fear on his witcher. 

“Geralt?” He croaked, his voice cracking. 

“Hmm?” Geralt didn’t even look up, seeming to instead find anything else to look at than Jaskier’s fading body. 

Jaskier gave a sad smile and weakly patted the bedroll next to him. “It’s going to be cold tonight. Why don’t we have those for breakfast and you come get some sleep?” 

Geralt looked up at him then, his face drawn into something he couldn’t interpret but took the rabbits off the flames and nodded. 

He crossed the small space and slipped in next to Jaskier, pulling him gently down until they were tucked in the bedroll, his arms winding around the bard with barely a word. He felt rigid and unsure under Jaskier’s hands as he shifted, careful of the wounded leg. 

Jaskier pressed in close to Geralt’s chest and timed his breathing to the sound of the witcher’s heartbeat under his ear. Geralt, for his part, wrapped his arms around Jaskier and held him close, burying his nose into his hair. He thought with a faint chuckle that he must have reeked but Geralt didn’t seem to mind, only pressing in closer. 

Sleep came for Jaskier sooner than he thought it would. He did not dream, nor did he really notice the pain. All he could feel as he drifted off were warm, though chapped, lips pressing to his forehead and words he couldn’t quite catch. 

They sounded like “Stay with me”.

~

When morning came, Jaskier couldn’t explain what he was doing standing near the entrance of the cave, looking in where Geralt was still huddled with his back to him. His head felt foggy like he couldn’t quite remember what it was he was doing. 

“Jaskier?” Geralt called suddenly, “Jaskier!” 

“I’m right here,” Jaskier took a step towards Geralt and found that his legs felt sound under him. 

“Jaskier…” Geralt sat up, leaning over something in front of him, his shoulders shaking. “No, no no, you fucking idiot, no. Not like this, Jask, please.” There was panic in Geralt’s voice and he was on his knees leaning down. 

Jaskier stood frozen behind him as he watched over Geralt’s shoulder, where he, Jaskier, lay, pale and blue-lipped. 

Geralt leaned down, trying to breathe life into his body, Jaskier's name a chant on his lips between every curse and promise he could make. Jaskier touched his own lips as they seemed to tingle for a moment but then the feeling was gone. 

Geralt only pressed against his chest a few times but seemed to quickly give up before gathering Jaskier into his arms, his nose pressing back into his hair. 

“Jaskier, no. I’m sorry, I’m so… I…” There was a choking sound echoing in the cave and Jaskier realized it was broken sobs as Geralt only held his lifeless body closer. 

“Geralt, dear heart, I’m still- You don’t have to be sorry, Geralt. You’re safe, that’s all I could ask for.” Jaskier came around the other side and dropped to his knees, his hands reaching out for Geralt as he sat there, rocking back and forth on the frozen stone floor. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this. We weren’t supposed to end like this.” He wanted to scream.

“You were supposed to stay, Jask. You were supposed to stay with me.” 

“Always,” Jaskier promised, “I’m always going to be here. I’m not going anywhere, Geralt. I love you, I’ll stay.” 

Geralt laid his body down gently, bringing the bedroll they shared over Jaskier’s face. “I’m sorry I failed you. I’m sorry I got you killed.” He looked away, swallowing, tears streaking down his face as his eyes slid right over where Jaskier’s ghost knelt in front of him. “I love you. I’m sorry I never told you.” 

Jaskier was sure if he still had a heartbeat, it would have skipped right before he shattered into a million pieces. There was nothing left for him to do but to keep his promise. He followed Geralt from that cave, watching as Geralt cast an aard that closed the entrance, burying Jaskier inside, his face completely void of any emotion as he did so. 

The rest of the journey to Kaer Morhen was quiet, Geralt barely stopping to eat or sleep until he had finally reached the keep. Jaskier trailed behind him in the halls, catching the looks that Geralt missed from his brothers, from Vesemir, from Yennefer when she showed up with Ciri not three days later. 

He followed his witcher into his rooms and watched as he drank himself into a stupor that still couldn’t bring him sleep. 

“You don’t have to do this to yourself, Geralt. I’d die for you a thousand times if it kept you safe,” Jaskier whispered. He couldn’t brush back the silver hairs that fell into Geralt’s face as he slumped over his writing desk. 

He looked down at the book that was open and recognized it as his journal. He was sure he’d blush if he could. It was a page towards the back that Geralt had opened to, where Jaskier had done a rough sketch of Geralt grooming Roach. It hadn’t been his best work, but he kept it with him anyways. 

“Oh, you were never meant to see that,” he winced, sliding up onto the desk beside Geralt’s outstretched arm. He reached down as if to grab his hand and sighed when his fingers only managed to slide through it without so much as a twitch. 

“Should have protected you, should have saved you. Always losing you,” Geralt slurred, his eyes closed. “Always losing the ones I should have protected.” 

“Oh, dear heart,” Jaskier leaned his elbow onto his knee, wiping a hand over his face. He wondered how long he would be like this, not that he was complaining. He had promised. He was still going to follow his witcher.

~

The years slipped past them, Geralt witchering, Jaskier following. The only difference seemed to be that Geralt had finally found it in himself to start talking to Jaskier, only when Jaskier couldn’t respond. 

That first season out, Geralt found a contract on a notice board. 

“Looks like a cockatrice, Jask,” he murmured quietly, reading over the paper. “They’ll swindle me for sure, always with fucking cocatrices.” He gave a small smile looking up. “You know, the only time they didn’t was when you’d come flying at the alderman like a cockatrice yourself, all color and spit and barbs.” 

“You always stopped me though.” Jaskier leaned against the board, his head resting on the worn wood as he watched Geralt fondly. “I worry you’ll never see a proper payment again unless you find another bard.” The idea twisted something where his chest used to be. Geralt travelling with anyone else always seemed to do that, even before his untimely demise. “But at least now I can follow you into battles without you having to worry about me getting hurt, eh?”

Jaskier followed Geralt like he always had, trailing behind him as he met with the alderman, to his room at the inn, watching as he checked over his potions. 

“Come back in one piece.” Jaskier winced at the old habit that hadn’t seemed to die with him. 

“Stay out of trouble while I’m-” Geralt turned and frowned at the empty room. “Right then.” He only growled and slung his swords over his back before stalking back out of the room. 

They had stopped on the edge of a ravine and Geralt looked down the craggy face, scowling. He downed his potions without a second thought and began the climb down. 

And then-

Jaskier was suddenly back in the room at the inn, Geralt with his back to him, grunting as he curled in on himself. 

“What the fuck just happened?” Jaskier asked. He came around the other side of Geralt. There was a nasty cut along his arm but it wasn’t anything Geralt couldn’t handle, he knew. 

“Bollocks! Really!? Finally, a way to follow you into battle and, what? I can’t? Why?” Jaskier threw his arms in the air in frustration. 

Geralt made a low sound, the needle shaking in his hand as he stitched his arm. His eyes kept flicking up to his potions, lined across the low table. Jaskier looked him over, watching the last of the toxicity fade from his veins. 

“You know, I keep asking why am I here, but I’m starting to wonder.” Jaskier tried to run his hands through the muck that still clung to Geralt’s hair, sighing as his fingers simply faded through him. “Am I here because you’ve chosen to let me haunt you?” He clucked his tongue. “Foolish witcher, let me go. You don’t need to punish yourself.” 

“Hmm.” Geralt stood, crossing to the basin to wash away the remaining blood on his arm and hands. 

Jaskier climbed into the bed and waited for Geralt to take his usual position beside him. He sang quietly as his witcher drifted off into his usual restless sleep, Jaskier’s name never far from his lips. 

~

And so it went for several seasons, Geralt fighting battles Jaskier could not witness, only able to linger beside him when the nights grew quiet and Geralt would try to drown himself in women and liquor and the desperate pace of travel. 

After one fight, Jaskier returned to find Geralt hunched over his potions, muttering to himself as he pulled one from the bag with surprisingly shaky hands. 

“What are you doing? Did you not kill the beast?” Jaskier was kneeling in front of him, unable to reach out, unable to be heard. He looked between the bottle and Geralt’s face and frowned. 

“I see,” he whispered softly.

It had been a long time at this point and Jaskier was realizing that the only time he was not with Geralt was when Geralt didn’t think of him, so far only when he gave himself over completely to his witcher senses and instinct. 

“Does thinking of me hurt you so deeply, Geralt?” If he were able to cry he would. Instead all he could do was look on as Geralt slowly uncorked the bottle. “I do not blame you for wanting to outrun your ghosts, but please. Not like this.”

Geralt brought the bottle to his lips and for a moment it felt like his eyes had flicked to Jaskier’s, wide and wounded. He pulled the bottle away, corking it and shoving it back into his bag. 

“You’d think me a coward, I know.” Geralt pulled out his flask instead, taking a hard pull of the White Gull he kept with him constantly now. 

“Still the bravest man I know.” Jaskier smiled sadly. 

~

As years went on, Jaskier noticed he was starting to lose time. Slowly there would be a day missing where he started with Geralt in one place and ended up somewhere else completely. Usually when he would appear again, Geralt was already settling into a room or brushing down Roach, idle things that let the witcher’s thoughts wander. 

“Would you have written new songs by now? You’d be what, sixty?” Geralt hummed. “You’d hate old age, vain as you are- were.” 

“Oh, back to this are we? Haven’t been insulted in a while. Though kind of you to say sixty. I think we’re coming up on eighty easily, dear heart.” Jaskier murmured fondly, leaning against the stall to watch Geralt work. 

The time between these moments was clearly growing. Every time he saw Geralt he looked more worn, more weary. New scars were cropping up between his visits. He especially hated when he came back to find Geralt sewing himself back together after a particularly bad fight or when he was being chased out of various towns. 

It felt like that was when he thought of Jaskier the most, when there was no one there to defend him. No one to care for him. He showed in the moments Geralt felt most alone in the spaces Jaskier used to fill. His gaunt face still holding the same disappointed scowl it always did when villages turned on him. Jaskier knew it made Geralt feel like a monster. It filled him with a rage so powerful, it nearly vibrated the medallion on Geralt’s chest. 

“You’re not, Geralt. I know you’re not! I wish you listened to me then or could hear me now.” Jaskier pleaded, pacing in front of the witcher, his arms thrown wide. “You’re still a hero.” He would have wet his lip the way he used to if he could feel it. “Still my hero, witcher.” 

“Maybe they’re right. I just bring death wherever I go.” Geralt murmured as he set up camp. 

Jaskier felt himself slowly fade, flickering as Geralt knelt for meditation, every breath blurring his vision until the void took him again. 

~

It was dawn or maybe dusk, but all Jaskier knew was that it had been a long time since Geralt last thought of him. There were too many scars along his wiry arms where his sleeves were pushed up, his feet dangling into the water of a stream. He sat on the edge of a rock, his head in his hands. 

Jaskier went to say something and found that he couldn’t, his mouth opening and closing but no sound came forward. 

“A hundred years,” Geralt swallowed. “A hundred years and I’ve forgotten the sound of your voice.” He sounded wounded, his voice cracking with sorrow and age. “I’d give every single one of them back if I could just… remember.” He pressed his palms over his eyes and shook. “The world keeps changing, and you’re still gone and I’m still here.” 

Jaskier dropped to his knees beside Geralt, his hands reaching out to touch the man that would not let him go. 

It was his hands that caught his attention. They were barely shadows at the ends of his arms. Jaskier looked down in silent panic as he realized he was fading. Geralt was forgetting him. A mixture of relief and agony tore through him. All he wanted to do was scream but all he could do was sit there in silent horror as he watched Geralt fall to pieces. 

Rest, witcher. He thought, swallowing down the silent tears he was no longer able to shed. Rest, my love, your path is almost at its end. Do you know all the good you’ve done? 

Geralt took a steadying breath, looking up and out over the river, his once brilliant yellow eyes dulling around the pupils. 

I’ll stay, Geralt. I promise. As long as you’ll have me, I’m going to stay. Jaskier silently promised. He leaned forward as though to press his forehead to Geralt’s shoulder. He could have sobbed when the world tilted and he simply passed through him, unable to even comfort him from the other side. 

Beside him Geralt took another breath before pulling his feet from the stream. He turned and gathered his swords and once more, there was nothing. 

~

Time had lost meaning. There had only been brief fleeting moments where Geralt seemed to remember his bard, unable to perceive the ghost that followed him still. Jaskier’s own memory was starting to grow fuzzy. Why was he here? Why did he want to protect this man sitting alone by the fire? Where was his voice? 

He remembered having a lute and a book of songs and an amazing adventure filled with heroics and heartbreak, with destiny and death. He could remember the taste of wine and the smell of sea salt and the feel of a calloused hand cupping his cheek as he laid in a cave decades upon decades ago. 

Jaskier stood in the door of a dusty stone room, the window overlooking a mountain range he could not name. 

“Toss a coin to your witcher,” came a voice, cracked and ancient and so very very tired. 

Jaskier followed the voice to a pile of deteriorating furs. He knew that face, scarred and weathered as it was. He knew that song. Something in him flared as he reached out with almost solid fingers. 

“Geralt?” He whispered. 

The pile rose with a shaky breath and then the man, the witcher, his witcher, drew no more breath. 

“Oh dear heart, you took so long.” Jaskier chuckled sadly. “I’m so glad you thought of me. I’d never be able to live with myself if you died alone.” 

“Can’t live with yourself anyways,” came a rumbling voice from behind him. 

Jaskier whipped around and gasped. Geralt stood only a few strides away. His body whole again, the scars faded to fine silver lines, like threads of moonlight caught under his skin. Around him was a warm glow and it called Jaskier home like a beacon.

“Geralt!” Jaskier stood frozen on the spot.

“You stayed.” Geralt hummed, taking a small step forward. 

“You asked me to. Besides, what was I going to do, let you go on without me?” Jaskier laughed, his arms itching to reach out, to see if he could just…

“Stubborn,” Geralt growled but there was no heat to it as he stalked closer. 

“Yes you are, dear heart. Come here.” 

“Two hundred years, Jaskier.” Geralt took another step, his chest seeming to heave. 

“You took so much longer than I thought you would.” Jaskier shot back but he was grinning. 

“Jaskier.” It was the same old warning bite that Geralt used when he was treading on thin ice. 

“Hello.” He was beaming. The room around them had been dim when he appeared but now it seemed to glow. 

“Hard-headed.” Geralt surged forward, his arms wrapping solidly around Jaskier, lifting him easily as he buried his face into Jaskier’s neck. 

“Are you going to kiss me, witcher or just keep throwing-”

He was cut off when Geralt pulled back just far enough to crush their mouths together, warm and perfect and bright as the sun. 

“Absolute bastard.” Geralt smiled as he pulled back, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Jaskier’s mouth. 

Jaskier laughed, throwing his arms around Geralt’s neck. “I’ve missed you too.” He felt tears, actual tears slide down his cheeks as he clung to Geralt. The room around them seemed to vibrate as they clung to one another, filling with a warm light once more before falling forever dark again, the wind whipping through where they once stood.

They say deep in the Blue Mountains, if you are brave enough, there is a keep that once belonged to the witchers of old. For many years, they said it was haunted by the ghosts of all the ones the witchers had lost. 

They say Jaskier had stayed. He had stayed and waited, doing in death what he had done in life; following his witcher. That only when his witcher followed was he able to finally leave, hand in hand.

But that is only if the stories are to be believed. The ghosts of the witchers have long since departed, only staying as long as they were needed. 

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #cw: blood and injury #cw: fatal injury #ghost jaskier #lonely geralt #cw: main character serious injury #cw: violence #cw: blood #life of a witcher #geralt feels guilty #promises kept #sad geralt #bittersweet ending

[bubblesuga]

Turning Page - Part 1

Summary: Sometimes you find yourself in the right place at the right time and unknowingly, you fall in love. Min Yoongi certainly didn’t expect that when he met eyes with you one fateful night in late July. Nor did he expect to end up naked in your apartment while you drew his body.

w/c: 7,302 genre: struggling producer!yoongi au, new relationship, fluff, smut warnings: oral (m receiving), dom!yoongi, switch!reader, raw sex, spanking, reader has a praise kink, yoongi has a dirty mouth (but lets be honest, what else is new?), slight exhibitionism, jungkook is too nosy for his own good

It’s not often that you find yourself at a 24 hour diner in the middle of the night with an insane amount of papers splayed out in front of you as eat your waffles while answering emails and trying your hardest to copy the manuscripts sent to you but for some god-awful reason it’s happened to you on more than one occasion this week alone. 

The manuscript, which the author unabashedly decided to hand write instead of type in this day and age, was way too long and had way too much detail. Unfortunately for you, your boss only reads typed manuscripts and insisted that you copy every word and type it for her by Monday. You know for a fact that your boss is going to get three chapters into this absolute mess of a story and toss it but you have no choice but to listen to her. 

This is definitely not how you expected being an intern to go yet here you are, wondering and waiting for the day that you can move on and start your own company like you’ve wanted to for practically your entire life. 

“Can I get you a refill on your coffee?” A voice asks, and you glance up to see the waitress, an older woman with a smile that could light up a thousand suns. 

“Yes please,” you smile, holding out your mug to her as she pours directly from the pot, “thank you.” 

“No problem, I always see you working so hard so I figured you could use the energy boost.” she grins, patting your shoulder lightly as she begins to walk away and help the other few tables which also happen to be hosting tired college students and early risers or late sleepers. 

Without even realizing it, another half hour passes by you quickly. Your eyes burn, but you count the remaining pages and try to push through. Quickly though, your ears spot the sound of dishes clanking together and you can’t help but pull your attention in that direction. 

A man with blond hair and dark eyes is cleaning the table in front of you. He adorns an apron around his waist and a white t-shirt with black pants. The busboy wipes down the table, and you admire his side profile as he does so. His features are soft, a rounded nose and down-turned lips held almost in a pout. You have never come across a man so stunningly beautiful, it nearly causes your breath to be caught in your throat. 

You’re staring for so long that the man catches on to your watchful eye, glancing over in your direction with a raised eyebrow. You smile sheepishly, “Sorry.” 

The man smirks, shaking his head before hauling the bin of empty cups and plates towards the kitchen. Your heart sinks for a moment, but you shake the feeling to the best of your ability and try to finish typing. 

A few more moments pass, and you hear someone sitting across from you. You glance up and see the man sat across from you, apron gone and a black jacket now covering his torso. 

“Can I help you?” You question softly, clasping your hands together atop the table. 

He bites his bottom lip, “I feel like I should be asking you the same thing.” 

“Pardon?” 

“You were watching me earlier, just curious what was on your mind was all.” He shrugs, his hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets. 

You swallow, the way his eyes scan you causes your face to flush. Carefully, you stack up your papers and clean the table slightly while you try to think a way to dance around the answer to his question. He waits patiently, which only causes you to panic internally. 

“I was thinking that you would be nice to draw.” you finally settle on, and it’s true. He looks like a work of art, and you’d love to have had him as a model in your art class when you went to college. 

He doesn’t seem to expect that answer, his eyes widening slightly as his head tilts, “So draw me.” 

“Ah,” you immediately wave your hand dismissively, “I haven’t drawn in a couple years and I was never any good at it anyway.” 

He leans forward, mirroring your position from earlier, “But if that was your first thought then surely you still have an interest in it.” The smooth cadence of his tone intimidates you to no end, yet it entices you and pulls you in even more. How can a stranger hold so much power over you?

“I’ll tell you what,” you say after a moment, suddenly gaining a brush of confidence when you see a twinkle in his eye, “you come to my apartment tomorrow night and I’ll draw you.” 

“That sounds like a trap to murder me.” He remarks, a gummy grin stretching across his face and you have to hold back a small ‘awe’, your chest twisting at the sight. 

“You want to get drawn or not?” you bite back, just as teasingly. 

He shakes his head, a small chuckle leaving his pink lips, “Give me your phone.” 

You raise an eyebrow, reaching into your bag and pulling out your phone. You unlock it for him and he takes it immediately, keeping the screen just far enough away from you that you can’t see what he’s doing. Soon enough, he stands abruptly and sets your phone down onto the table.

He smirks, “Text me the address, I’ll be there.” 

The stranger wanders down the isle and towards the front door, and you watch in awe at his broad shoulders and shapely figure. Something about the way he carried himself made your mouth water. 

Breaking out of your trance, you quickly unlock your phone and and see a newly added contact. At the top of the screen is a simple ‘Yoongi ;)’ titling the contact. 

You blush, gnawing your bottom lip gently as he passes by the window and sends a wink your way.

~*~*~

He’s going to be here any moment. He’s going to walk through your door with his stupid fucking smirk and attractive eyes and he’s going to be in your living room, posing for a while so you can draw him. 

And you’re freaking out. 

After he left you immediately sent him your address, and since then the two of you have been talking non stop. It was mostly about small things, jobs, favorite foods and favorite colors... Although it may have only been a day, you feel like you know him pretty well. He’s funny and charismatic and oh so charming, no wonder you were so drawn in to his beauty because he’s gorgeous from the inside out. 

You haphazardly through your jackets and shoes into the closet by the front door, only recently becoming aware of how much clothes you leave strewn throughout your home. 

Just as you light a cinnamon scented candle in the center of the room, your doorbell rings. 

You rush over to the door and glance in the mirror to fluff your hair and wipe away any runny make up. Exhaling a deep breath, you open the door and greet Yoongi with a smile. 

“Hello.” you say simply, opening the door wider and motioning for Yoongi to come in. He’s dressed in a black button up and tight fitting black jeans, a stark contrast to his work attire. He carries with him a back pack and a bottle of whiskey. 

He notices the way you eye the bottle, and he flushes slightly, “I figured it could help with your nerves. A- and mine, because I’m a little nervous as well.” 

“Nervous?” you trudge into your living room with Yoongi following closely behind, “why are you nervous?” 

“Well, I’m not exactly sure if you expected this to be a nude drawing or not so I wore nice clothes but I’m also willing to take them off.” He scratches the bottom of his chin, watching as you set up the easel. 

You pause your movements, eyes widening, “N- nude?” 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, twisting open the bottle of whiskey, “isn’t that what you do in those fancy art classes? Draw nude people?” 

“I- I mean, we did,” you stutter, your throat going dry, “but they were always women because I went to an all female college.” 

“Ah, so you could use the practice,” he grins confidently, but it drops suddenly, “unless you’re uncomfortable with that. Then, fully clothed is fine with me.” 

The thought of being able to see the gorgeous man nude excited you more than you’d like to admit, and seeing as you two were in the safety and comfort of your own home, you had no problem with him doing it so long as he wanted to, and by the way his fingers are itching to undo the first button of his shirt, you figure he is. 

“Go ahead. You’re right, I can use the practice.” 

Yoongi smiles and with trembling fingers he begins to take his clothes off. As he does so, you focus on setting up the rest of your supplies. The charcoal set sits idly on the table beside you and you finally sit down with a sigh. 

As you turn your eyes back to Yoongi, you see that he is splayed across your couch with the bottle in hand. 

Holy fuck, his body is just as gorgeous as his face. He’s lean, but you can tell he definitely works out his arms and his legs are long, a pinkish tint holds itself to his skin and you’re unsure if he’s being shy or if the alcohol has already taken affect on him. Eventually you let your eyes land on his hips, his pelvis presenting itself neatly between his legs. It takes everything in you not to drop what you’re doing and let him fuck you into oblivion. 

“(Y/N)?” you hear, and you’re brought back to the current situation. Yoongi’s face holds a knowing smirk, and he leans forward to hand you the bottle of whiskey. 

You take it gratefully, your heart thudding harshly in your chest as you take a sip. 

“Is this position okay?” he questions, one leg bent at the knee and resting on the other one. His right arm rests extended on the back of the couch while his left hand plays dangerously close to his pelvis. 

“Y- yes.” you breathe, picking up your pencil and beginning the sketch. 

It doesn’t take long for you to get the basic sketch down, your love for drawing coming back in droves as Yoongi sits silently, watching your face as you continue to sketch across the paper. He smiles, your nose crinkling before you erase a line or your tongue poking out as your concentrating on a specific area. 

After a little bit of silence, you speak up, “Do you want me to draw, uhm,” you pause your sentence and gesture towards his hips, to which he responds with a little laugh. 

“My cock?” 

His use of the word shocks you a little bit, but you silently remind yourself that you are a grown woman and are completely capable of listening to a man talk about his anatomy, even when you’re immensely attracted to him and have to continually swallow the drool that threatens to fall from your mouth. 

“Yeah, your- your cock.” you nearly whisper, noticing the way his cock twitches slightly at your voice. 

Okay, he’s getting just as much enjoyment out of this as I am. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, shifting a few inches, “I want you to draw my cock.” 

You nod, turning back to your drawing and beginning the last details. 

Yoongi doesn’t take his attention away from your face, gauging your reaction to his body. He likes the way you’re so attentive, and it’s taking everything in him not to harden, though he’s unsure how much longer he can hold off. 

His mind reels with the possibility of you riding him right on this couch. After spotting you at the restaurant he knew that he wanted you. It’s been far too long since he’s had sex, and his pickiness has become more and more evident, especially to his roommates. However, the moment he saw you, he could nearly imagine the way you would feel around him and when he saw you staring he knew that he was in the clear to come over and talk to you. 

This definitely wasn’t how he expected it to turn out but he has no complaints. 

“I’m almost done,” you murmur, your brow furrowed in concentration, “you can move now. All I have to do is shade a little.” 

Yoongi lets out a small breath, his fingers dancing across his hip bone as he lays comfortably on his back, “Do you need me to get dressed now?” 

You glance up, your face mostly hidden by the sketch pad, “If you would like to.” 

Slight disappointment hits Yoongi as he realizes that he’s not going to be able to touch you today. He sits up and reaches for his boxers, but you stop him. 

“Or you could give me a minute and I’ll undress too.” you say casually, shrugging as you pick up a black pen and sign the bottom of the drawing.

Yoongi’s jaw drops, and there’s no stopping it now. He instantly feels blood rush to his cock and watches intently while you spin the easel around and show him your work of art. 

Across the page, Yoongi sees himself displayed and detail lining every area of the sketch. He notices the way his eyes twinkle even in the drawing and if there were ever a time to think of himself as attractive, it would be now that he’s been drawn by you. 

“Do you like it?” you ask nervously.

Yoongi grins, “I love it.” 

“Good,” you whisper, and you stand up. You take a careful step over to him, and Yoongi doesn’t take his eyes away from you. As you’re about to slip your shirt over your head, he stops you. 

“Let me, please.” he begs gently, and you nod. He stands up quickly and hooks his fingers around the hem of your shirt. You lift your arms and allow him to slip the material over your head. His movements are slow, tantalizing and teasing you but also drawing you into him. 

He places his hand against your side, drawing small circles before leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

It lasts no more than a few seconds, but you instantly miss the contact. He smiles, his nose crinkling as he does so and your heart can be heard from inside your chest, singing as he looks you in the eyes. He unhooks your bra, tossing it to the side and suddenly his lips are back on yours. 

It’s much more feverish than before, the taste of the whiskey and his strawberry flavored lip balm mix together on your tongue. The combination is harmonious, and he tastes exactly like you thought he would. 

Suddenly, he grips your shorts and pants, slipping them down your legs and softly commanding you to step out of them. You steady yourself on his shoulders and do as he says, your legs trembling with anticipation. 

“Last chance to back out of this if you don’t want it.” Yoongi says, his hands cupping your jaw and using his thumb to swipe gently at your cheek. You smile, “I want this.” 

He nods, “On your knees.” 

You instantly listen, dropping to your knees in front of him and licking your lips hungrily at now being eye level with Yoongi’s now hard cock. He smirks, “You can touch.” 

You nod hesitantly, then reach forward and pump him up and down a few times. Instantly, Yoongi’s head falls backward and a moan falls from his lips, gloriously loud and deep. 

The sound sends tingles straight to your heat, and you tentatively stick your tongue out to lick the tip of his member. His hips flex and you open your mouth automatically to accept him into your mouth. He goes a little further than expected and you gag as you feel him hit the back of your throat. 

“’M sorry,” he moans, “fuck your throat feels so good.” 

He looked heavenly, sweat begins to line his forehead as you use your tongue on the underside of his cock, paying special attention to the pulsating vein. 

His hands gather your hair up in his hands, “There we go, wanna see your pretty face as you suck my cock.” 

Fuck. 

You take him as deep into your mouth as you possibly can and hold him there, moaning at his dirty mouth and feeling yourself grow wetter by the second. 

“Good girl,” he feels your hands begin to roam his torso, his muscles flexing beneath his fingertips, “gonna cum.” 

With that, you pop off of him and see his eyes fall to you incredulously. “I was gonna-” 

“I know,” you grin, “but wouldn’t it feel better inside of me?” 

“You are so fucking hot.” he says, pulling you up to his level and slamming his lips to yours. You tug him down as you fall onto the couch, his cock brushing ever-so-lightly between your legs and causing both of you to gasp. 

It doesn’t take Yoongi long to line himself up at your entrance, your legs wrapped carefully around his waist and guiding him in slowly. Yoongi watches the way your eyes roll backwards as he bottoms out, a moan falling from his lips as he steadies himself.

He had never felt as much pleasure than in this moment. 

The eroticism of the entire situation made everything feel more sensual. Despite barely knowing him, you felt a connection to him stronger than anyone ever before. The way his cock seems to fit perfectly within you, stroking and massaging your velvety walls, immediately has you reeling beneath him. 

“I’m not gonna last very long,” Yoongi starts, his arms shaking as he holds himself above you, “what can I do to help you out?” 

“That’s okay, just fuck me.” You gasp.

You feel him reach a point inside you that sends waves through your body, your back arching off the couch. Yoongi catches the way your breathing has grown ragged, and reaches his hand between the two of you. 

His thumb manages to find your clit, collecting your wetness and rubbing over it gently. His thrusts stay slow and steady, but even so you’re unable to hold back. As your orgasm approaches, you bring Yoongi down to your mouth and feel the way he nibbles at your bottom lip. Suddenly, he speeds his thrusts up and his thumb swipes fast and sloppy circles across your clit. 

You feel your breath catch in your throat as your orgasm washes over you, a mewl of content leaving your mouth as Yoongi soon follows after, strings of hot cum coating your walls and adding to the sensitivity of your heat. 

He collapses on top of you, his lips peppering kisses across your exposed chest while your hand caresses his hair. 

“I would have been able to last longer if you weren’t so fucking good at giving head.” Yoongi nearly whines, his chest heaving while he attempts to catch his breath. 

“It’s okay,” you smile, pushing his hair back and exposing his forehead, “we both got there in the end.” 

Yoongi shrugs, making no effort to move off of you as he buries himself in your chest, “If you hadn’t, I would have no problem making you cum on my tongue.” His words are slightly muffled by your breasts which only causes you to giggle. 

“Hm, I’m open to experiencing that on another day,” his lips turn up against your skin at your words, “but can I give you some pointers?” 

Yoongi’s head pops up, his eyes looking at you incredulously, “you just said that we both got there in the end, what more do I need to do?” 

“Be louder,” you whisper, his tone teasing, “I like when a man is vocal.” 

His eyes glare jokingly, “Okay, you’re on. I’ll be as loud as you want.” 

You giggle, pressing a light kiss to his nose and watching the way his face scrunch up at the contact. 

His chin rests on you, his thumb stroking your cheekbone, “I like you a lot.” 

“Are you basing this solely off of the fact that I made you cum?” 

“That plays a part in it,” he chuckles, “but I want to see you again for sure. You seem cool, and I’d really like to take you out to dinner some time.” 

“Ah,” you click your tongue, “we did it backwards.” 

Yoongi laughs, a melodic sound that instantly makes your heart speed up. 

The two of you lay there for a little bit, your hand stroking his hair as you talk about the most mundane tasks. He tells you a little bit about his job, how his friend owns the diner the two of you met at and Yoongi likes to help out every once in a while for some extra cash. 

His real passion lies in music, which is why he was so hellbent to see you make art again. He loves encouraging people to create, to take charge and express themselves in the purest forms. 

After what seems like hours, Yoongi hears his phone ding. With a groan of disapproval, he climbs off of you and reaches into his jeans for his phone. 

You situate yourself on your side, watching the way Yoongi runs a hand through his messy hair and checks his phone. 

“Seokjin wants me to come serve tonight,” he says with a sigh, “I’ll text you after I get off, yeah?” 

You nod, “I need to finish up some work anyway.”

Silently, Yoongi begins to dress himself for the first time since he entered your apartment. You pout visibly as he slips his boxers back on, standing up and following suit by dressing yourself as well. 

As soon as you’re both dressed, you carefully tear Yoongi’s drawing out of the sketch pad and reach out to hand it to him.

“You’re giving it to me?” He questions, taking it with a raised eyebrow. 

You nod, “I don’t feel right in keeping it.” 

He shakes his head, “You should keep it for a rainy day.” 

Your eyes turn to slits while you inspect the drawing. You quietly slip it back into the sketchbook while Yoongi lets out another laugh. 

You lead him back to the front door, your arms crossed over your chest. Different from previous hook ups, you didn’t feel dirty after everything that you did. Instead, you felt comforted by the fact that he didn’t just leave as soon as he finished. He seemed like he genuinely wanted to take care of you and that wasn’t something you came across often. 

As he shuts the door behind him, you can’t help but touch your lips while you remember the feeling of his. 

~*~*~

“Hey Seokjin,” Yoongi greets as he enters the diner through the back door. 

Seokjin flips some sauteed vegetables in a pan and glances over at his younger friend, “Hey Yoon-” he pauses, setting down the pan, “you got laid didn’t you?” 

Yoongi throws his head back, muttering a small ‘damn it’ knowing that he’s going to get grilled until Seokjin is happy with the amount of details he’s received. 

“Yeah I did.” he sighs. 

“Hm, well you don’t seem too happy about it. Was she awful or something?” 

Yoongi whips his head towards Seokjin, “What? No, god no. She was fantastic.” 

“Then why the long face?” 

“Because I had to leave her to come help you.” Yoongi shrugs, chuckling when he feels Seokjin shove him lightly. 

Shaking his head, Seokjin plates up the food while he talks to Yoongi, “Was it the cute editor you were talking about last night?” 

Yoongi feels a twinge of jealousy hit his chest when he hears Seokjin saw you too, but it’s quickly replaced with triumph once he realizes that he got to you first. 

“She’s an intern, not an editor quite yet, but yeah that’s her.” 

“Good man,” he praises, “does that mean you’re back on your game?” 

Yoongi scoffs, “Just because I fuck one girl doesn’t mean I’m immediately going to try and fuck every girl I’m attracted to again.” 

Sure, Yoongi admits he went through a phase of... being well known. Especially in college, Yoongi was known to be a man of many special talents. After a while of random hook ups and making girls scream his name, he lost interest. He assumed it was because he got bored of it, but now he’s realizing that he was much more interested in having a relationship. Ever since he realized that, he had been waiting for someone to fall into his lap. 

For some reason, the moment he saw you he felt some indescribable feeling that drew him to you. Like all that waiting had finally paid off and he needed to talk to the girl with laser focus and a cute smile. 

“Oh, so you like this girl?” Seokjin says, glancing at the screen as another order comes in. 

“Yeah, a lot. She’s an artist.” He grins, calling back from the locker room connected to the kitchen. 

“Awe, did she draw you a picture?” Seokjin coos, a loud laugh following his teasing words. 

Yoongi’s cheeks blush as he suddenly flashes back to the events of today, “Yeah, you could say that.” 

Seokjin glances into the locker room, “I’ll question further later, for now you need to go to section A and help out Hwasa because she is drowning in tickets.” 

“Yes sir!” Yoongi mocks a salute, walking out to the dining area. 

~*~*~

From: Yoongi (received 16:34)

Be ready in 20.  Dress comfortably.

Your jaw drops as you stare at your phone, rushing upward from your position on your couch with a bag of chips and blankets surrounding you. 

You glance your at your reflection in passing and practically run to the bathroom to comb your hair. 

It’s only been two weeks since the two of you met. Your comforted by the fact that your phone always has a good morning text and a good night text from Yoongi. The two of you have yet to have a dry conversation and even if Yoongi is stuck at work or working on one of his secret projects, he makes sure to send a text that he’ll respond as soon as he has the chance. 

Previously you had never had someone so attentive, especially even in just the talking stages. At one point he called you, his voice rough and laced with sleep but the entire time he seemed lively and excited to talk to you. Your heart swelled with adoration the entire time and you’re safe in thinking that Yoongi feels the same. 

Because you haven’t seen Yoongi since the day you drew him, you find yourself regularly looking at the drawing. 

For the first time in what seems like years, you felt proud of something you had created. A constant rut that collapsed in on you like a black hole, drowning you in a state of constant despair, disappeared in half a day. Since then, you’re brain is reeling with creative thought and you couldn’t wait to show Yoongi what you’ve been drawing in your free time. He encourages you in a way that makes you feel like you can be whatever you want to be. 

One thing you were most proud of was your self-portrait. Your legs laid spread in front of a mirror for hours while you tried to perfect a drawing for Yoongi, to give back since he allowed you to keep his. 

“Why do all my cute bras disappear when I need them most?” you whine outwardly, your phone dinging again. 

From Yoongi (received 16:48) 

Oops, I’m early. 

You smile. 

To Yoongi (sent 16:49) 

You’re lucky you’re cute Be out soon

Quickly, you slip on a simple blue laced bra and t-shirt with a red skirt. Hoping that you were still cute in your comfortable clothes, you let out a nervous breath and head to the door. You grab your sketch book before you lock your door, Yoongi’s car parked at the end of the breezeway. You spot him before he spots you, a black beanie adorned on his head with his gorgeous blond hair peaking out beneath. 

You open his door and Yoongi immediately puts his phone away, “Hey.” 

“Hi.” You greet, slipping your sketchbook into the back seat. Yoongi leans over the center console and holds your face in his hand, and he kisses you. 

It’s short and sweet, not as feverish as the first one you shared but it made you realize how quickly you had fallen victim to missing his kiss. 

“I have wanted to do that for weeks now.” He states as if he read your mind, his eyes closed in bliss. 

“Why’d it take you so long then?” You tease, kissing him again. 

Yoongi smirks, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” 

“Does that mean you’re fonder of me?” 

He watches you pull the seat belt over your torso before he responds, “Definitely, I was thinking about you last night before I went to bed.” 

You raise an eyebrow, “Oh?” 

“Mhm,” he hums, a hand moving over to rest on your knee while he backs out of the parking spot, “you’re very talented with your tongue, even in my dreams.” 

You don’t respond, instead you look down at his hand on your knee with a blush.

The drive consists of soft music playing of the speakers of Yoongi’s 2003 Kia. A choice of car you wouldn’t expect him to drive but it oddly fits his personality. It’s quiet and gets him just where he needs to be, a simple thing that Yoongi tells you he takes pride in. 

It isn’t a long drive, but you take the time to admire the way Yoongi looks as he drives. The windows are rolled down and soft summer air breezes throughout the car while you drive across the countryside. The evening sun shines across Yoongi’s face, those soft facial features that drew you in still prominent, his nose curling upward while he laughs at a joke you told. 

“Alright,” he says after about 15 minutes, “we’re here.” 

Yoongi parks near a beach, where you spot a group of people around a fire. You tilt your head, “Are we meeting your friends?” 

“Yeah, I hope that’s okay. It’s just a small get together to celebrate a friend’s promotion.” Yoongi scratches the back of his neck and lets out a nervous chuckle. 

You survey the crowd, cases of soju surrounding them while they laugh among each other. One of them seems to spot the car, waving at the two of you enthusiastically. 

Butterflies swarm in your stomach as you draw your bottom lip between your teeth, “Sure, I’d love to meet your friends.” 

Yoongi rushes to the other side of the car to open your door for you, wrapping his arm comfortingly around your shoulder while he leads you to the group. 

A log was left empty that had just enough room for the two of you. As you approach, Yoongi calls out, “Shut up everybody! This is (Y/N), be nice to her. I like her a lot,” instantly everyone quiets down, and Yoongi points to the tallest first man, “That’s Namjoon, Seokjin, Jungkook, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jimin.” 

“Hyung, why’d you say my name last?” Jimin pouts, his voice already slightly slurred. You giggle, following Yoongi to the log. 

Namjoon reaches over, sticking his hand out, “It’s nice to meet the girl that Yoongi’s mentioned.” 

“Mentioned?” Jungkook scoffs, “He doesn’t shut up about you. You’re all he ever talks about and it takes a lot to get this man to stop talking about music.” 

Yoongi leans over and smacks his friend on the arm, his cheeks turning red at his admission. 

You giggle, “If it’s any consolation, I talk about Yoongi all the time too.” 

“Ah great, they’re both crazy about each other.” Seokjin jokes, a laugh unlike you had ever heard falling from his lips. His laugh causes you to laugh, and you quickly cover your mouth once you realize what you did. 

“Yah! She’s already making fun of my laugh!” Seokjin remarks, his bottom lip jutting outward cutely while Jimin shakes his head. 

“Take this and shut up.” Jimin reaches a drink out to Seokjin, who laughs and sends a wink your way to ease your mind. 

The night continues on gleefully, exchanging stories among each other and getting to know Yoongi’s friends - and Yoongi - more and more. 

At one point you could tell that Yoongi’s friends were grilling you in an attempt to see if you were a bad person. They were quite bad at it, though, seeing as Jungkook asked if you had ever killed a man and Taehyung was hellbent on trying to get you to say you liked country music. Though, you did admit that Carrie Underwood had a few good songs. Taehyung took this as a win and threw his hands up in victory while Namjoon told him to settle down. 

Now that you were more than a few drinks in, you listened intently to every story that the boys were telling. 

"Just wait until you hear about Yoongi’s parenting diary for Holly.” Hoseok spills, laughing so hard that he leans into Jimin who sits beside him. Jimin eyes disappear behind his smile, and everyone begins to chuckle. 

“No way!” you gape, turning to look at Yoongi who holds a beer tightly in his left and draws circles in your back with his right, “Min Yoongi, you never told me you were such a softy.” 

“I’m not a softy, I’m mean and scary,” Yoongi retaliates loudly, then he leans closer to your ear and whispers, “and I bite.” 

A chill runs down your spine and you immediately turn away, rubbing your hands together in an attempt to conceal your chill. Yoongi chuckles low enough for you to hear, his fingertips reaching beneath the base of your shirt and massaging gently. You didn’t realize how rough his fingertips were, callouses from hours of guitar playing evident on his hands. 

“Alright, children. I think it’s time for us to head out.” Yoongi says suddenly, interrupting a conversation between Hoseok and Namjoon. 

He stands and pulls you up with him. You smile and wave, “It was nice meeting you all.” 

“It was nice meeting you too,” Namjoon waves back to you, “excited to have you back around.” 

As you say goodbye to the rest and walk away, you hear a patter of footsteps walking behind the two of you. “Hyung! Can I get a ride?” 

Jungkook stumbles towards the two of you, and Yoongi glances at you in question. You shrug, “I don’t mind, it’s your car.” 

Yoongi waves Jungkook over, the three of you walking towards Yoongi’s small car. Yoongi opens the door for you, bowing gently and humming while he walks over to the drivers side. In the few short seconds that you and Jungkook were alone in the car, Jungkook leans forward and rests his head on the back of Yoongi’s seat. 

“I haven’t seen Yoongi this happy in a while,” he pats your shoulder, “thank you.” 

You don’t get the opportunity to respond as Yoongi opens the car door and hops in. You swallow, smiling and biting your lip. Your chest swells with the thought that Yoongi is just as affected by you as you are by him. 

The drive is quite, but suddenly Jungkook speaks up. 

“Is this yours, (Y/N)?”

You turn your head back and instantly your eyes widen, Jungkook glancing through your sketchpad. You spot the edge of your Yoongi drawing sticking out, Yoongi’s face visible but Jungkook had yet to spot it. 

“Y- yeah.” you say, praying that he stops flipping through the pages. Yoongi glances over to you, his eyes just as wide as yours. He simply shakes his head as if to say ‘stop him’. 

“These are really goo- oh! You drew Yoongi!” Jungkook’s fingers begin to pull at the piece of paper which causes you to unhook your seat belt and take the entire sketchbook out of Jungkook’s hands. 

He seems lost for a second, “Can I see the Yoongi drawing?” 

“No!” you and Yoongi respond simultaneously, panic lacing both of your voices while Yoongi pulls into an unfamiliar neighborhood. 

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, “You two doing something freaky?” 

Yoongi coughs, “I was just a model for (Y/N) to practice with.” 

“A nude model?” Jungkook asks in a sing-song voice, noticing the way you glance at Yoongi.

“Cool it with the questions, Kookie.” Yoongi scolds gently. 

“Hey, I don’t judge. I posed nude for a sculpting class once, those girls got to look at my bits for hours and I’m sure they enjoyed it as much as you enjoyed looking at Yoongi’s-” 

“Wow would you look at that, we’re home! Get the fuck out of my car.” Yoongi turns around, gesturing for Jungkook to exit. Jungkook holds a smirk on his face, “Be safe.” 

As soon as Jungkook gets out of the car, you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. Yoongi rests his head on the steering wheel, laughing quietly to himself in both embarrassment and joy. 

“Why did you have that drawing in the sketchbook?” He questions as he reverses out of the driveway. 

You shrug, “I don’t know... I just wanted to show you what I’ve been working on since that day.” 

“Like what?”

“A self portrait.” you shrug, opening the sketchbook and flipping to the most recently filled in page. You hold it up so Yoongi can glance at it while he drives, but you didn’t expect his eyes to bulge out of his head while he slams on the breaks and pulls off to the side of the neighborhood road. 

Instantly, he reaches and takes the book from you, his eyes scanning over the drawing repeatedly. 

“Gorgeous,” he breathes, “you’re so fucking gorgeous.” 

You smile gently, pointing your finger to your chest, “I drew my boobs more even than they actually are so I’m not that gorgeous.” 

Yoongi’s eyes turn to slits, “Well this is tainted now. How will I ever be able to hang this up when it’s not accurate to the real thing?” 

You giggle, pushing Yoongi’s shoulder gently. His joking tone diminishes once his eyes fall back on the drawing, the smile dropping from his face while his finger traces the curve of your hips. “Gorgeous...” he whispers again, “Fuck, I love this so much. Thank you.” 

He leans across the center console and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

That’s just not enough, though. 

You slip the sketchpad out of his hands and close it, “You want to see the real thing?” 

Your lack of touch from Yoongi these past couple weeks didn’t seem to bother you but now that you have him alone, you want to jump his bones. 

Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to nod, unhooking his seat belt and leaning his chair back a little bit. You grin, slipping the t-shirt over your head and pressing a harsh kiss against Yoongi’s lips. He welcomes your lips, drinking you in while his hands begin to roam your now bare skin. He slips his grip down to your thighs, pulling you over the center console and causing you straddle his thighs. 

Not breaking the kiss, you begin to grind yourself down onto Yoongi’s quick-hardening cock. He moans into the kiss, his hands kneading your ass roughly. You gasp when you feel his hand lay a hard smack against your ass, the sound resonating throughout the car and causing Yoongi to smirk. 

“Oh, you like being spanked?” he peppers kisses across your neck, “have you been a bad girl?” 

“Mhm,” you moan, “I’m your bad girl.” 

“That’s right,” Yoongi growls, spanking you once again, “my bad girl.” 

You toss your head back when you feel Yoongi’s hips begin to twist beneath you, his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans. You reach between the two of you, unzipping his jeans and threading his cock through the hole. 

Yoongi sucks in a breath through his teeth while your small hand pumps him up and down carefully. 

“No time,” Yoongi groans, “ride me.” 

You didn’t have to be told twice. 

The feeling of the slick between your legs was enough to show that you were ready, so Yoongi’s fingers push your panties to the side while he holds his cock and lines it up with your entrance. It doesn’t take long for him to slip inside, his hands gripping your hips and lifting you up and down while you moaned above him. 

“You like my cock, don’t you baby? You’re gonna cum so good for me, aren’t you?” His voice is gruff, the encouraging tone causing your body to jolt with pleasure. You nod quickly, your mouth opening to respond but the only noise to leave your throat was a whisper of his name. 

He feels the way your walls clamp down on him, leaning forward and nibbling across your breasts. “Fuck,” he curses while you speed your hips up, “your pussy feels so good around me.” 

Yoongi’s words cause your orgasm to creep up on you, his name falling from your lips like a mantra as you pulsate around him. Yoongi bears his teeth as he cums, growling low and deep while his fingers grip your hips hard, sure to leave bruises but you didn’t mind. 

You both sit for a moment while you catch your breath, Yoongi’s tongue licking a long stripe from your collarbones to your jawbone before he kisses your lips. 

“Did so good for me,” he rubs soothing circles in your burning thighs, “was I vocal enough for you?” 

You laugh, “Yes sir. Please keep it coming.” 

You both wince as he lifts you off of him, falling into the passenger seat and sighing happily. 

Your feet rest in his lap after the two of you are cleaned up, his hands gently massaging them while he tells you about a new song that he’s working on and how he hopes that someone will be interested. 

It’s then that you realize that this is going to extend past the need for sex, because the two of you were both genuinely interested in each other’s lives. He speaks animatedly about his interests and listens intently to yours. It doesn’t take you long to begin imagining waking up beside him every morning with the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen. 

As he drops you off at your apartment for the night, Yoongi walks you to your doorstep.You unlock the door and turn to give him a goodbye kiss but he stops you, grabbing your hand and stroking across your knuckles. 

“So, do you think you’d be interested in being my girlfriend?” He asks nervously, “I- I wasn’t sure if you were just thinking of this as a friend with benefits situation so I figured I would ask before one of us gets hurt.” 

You nearly coo at the man, watching the way his eyes dance across his feet. 

You bring your arms around his neck and pull him down to your level, slamming a kiss onto his lips one more time. His hand grips the back of your shirt tightly, his tongue exploring your mouth while you lean against the wall. He pulls away with a grin, resting his forehead against yours. 

“Is that a yes?” 

You smile, “Of course.” 

#min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader fluff #min yoongi x reader smut #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader fluff #yoongi x reader smut #bts #suga #suga x reader

[alt-rose]

21 - colson baker

colson baker imagine

21 - Pete Davidson takes you out to celebrate your 21st birthday after SNL, and you make a new friend. 

“this week a midwestern teenager was arrested for kidnapping livestock and hiding them in their neighbor’s garages. here to comment is our resident young person, (y/n) (y/l/n).”

you took a quick breath before you were pushed toward the weekend update desk. you rolled to a stop next to your castmate Michael Che before you dove into your bit with him about cows and the midwestern community.

you made your SNL debut last season when you were only nineteen. you quickly took over Pete Davidson’s former role as the “resident young person” among the cast, and you had formed a fast friendship with him over the last year and a half. he had been eager to take you out with his friends so that you could experience the true nightlife that New York could offer, and now that you were finally turning 21, he could do just that.

after you exited the stage from your weekend update skit, Pete caught you in the hallway as you headed back to your dressing room to get ready for your last skit.

“hey, next weekend,” Pete started catching your attention. “do you want to go out and celebrate your birthday? Maybe get shitfaced?”

“I don’t know. who’s gonna be there? I don’t really want to feel obligated to entertain people while you’re getting me drunk,” you said apprehensively.

“don’t worry. it’ll be a bunch of people you don’t know so you don’t have to worry about anything other than getting drunk. I’ll keep an eye on you, of course. keep you away from the creepos.”

“how thoughtful,” you say throwing yourself into one of the hair and make-up chairs. “but sure, it sounds fun.”

“great. I’ll get the party lined up for next Saturday after the show.”

you threw him a thumbs up before your attention was directed toward the make-up artist giving you an 80s look for your next skit.

--

“this week our very own (y/n) (y/l/n) turned 21. here to comment on finally becoming an adult is our resident young person, (y/n) (y/l/n).”

“hey Colin,” you call back to him when you roll up next to Colin Jost at the weekend update desk.

SNL did a similar skit when Pete turned 21 so the writers felt it was only right to do one for you.

“hey (y/n), how does it feel to finally be 21?” he asked tapping his pen on his desk.

“it feels great Colin. you know, it’s a bit of an adjustment, but I’m having a great time.”

“right, you’re finally legal now. you can do adult things.”

“yeah, now I can buy tropical fish at Randy’s Pet Shop by my apartment building. I have a fish named Chet now. he’s pretty cool.”

“wait, you have to be 21 to buy fish from Randy’s Pet Shop?”

“yeah, Randy’s got this weird thing,” you paused to make eye contact with Colin. “anyway, besides that, I don’t really feel like much of an adult, Colin. I’m like five-foot-something and still resemble a fourth grader. like look at me, Colin. I was given a kid’s menu at TGI F.R.I.D.A.Y.’S last week. I am not an adult.”

Colin laughed before looking at you. “(y/n), you really don’t think that you’ve grown in this past year? you haven’t felt like an adult in anyway?”

“no.”

“well, I think you have. you stopped ordering chicken fingers at every restaurant we go to for cast dinners. I think that’s a big step into adulthood.”

“yeah, well, joke’s on you because I have a bag of dino nuggies hidden in the back of the breakroom fridge.”

“what?”

“yeah, I just take a few out and wrapping them in tinfoil and heat them up in the microwave for four minutes-”

“wait, hold on, hold on,” Colin laughed waving his hand to stop you. “you put the nuggets in tinfoil before you put them in the microwave?”

“yeah, you just wrap them up in the tinfoil, and they cook really well. they get all sparky and stuff. they taste a little smokey though”

“you’re the reason why the breakroom microwave is always broken?”

“what?”

“(y/n), you’re not supposed to put tinfoil in the microwave,” Michael chimes in.

“you can’t put metal in the microwave. did you not know that?” Colin asked.

“what?” you put on the confused act.

“(y/n) (y/l/n), everybody,” Colin shouts turning to the audience and ending your segment on the update.

“who let me be an adult?” you laugh shouting to audience as Colin pulls you into a side hug. the crowd cheers as you wave to them.

“for weekend update, I’m Colin Jost.”

“And I’m Michael Che. GOODNIGHT.”

you continue to smile and laugh with both of the guys as the camera panned away from the stage and the recording light turned off. when you made it off stage, you started to head back to your dressing room. you had finished your last sketch of the night, so you planned on getting ready for your night out with Pete and whoever else he invited.

--

an hour later, you were crammed in the backseat of an uber next to Pete.

“where are we going?” you asked him as you check the battery on your phone.

“this club a few minutes away. it’s pretty lowkey. everyone’s going to meet us there.”

“okay, sounds good-”

“it’s actually right here,” he interrupts stopping the driver. “thanks, man.”

Pete opened the door of the car and climbed out. his lanky form towered over the small sedan. he leaned down to help you scoot over to open door. you took his hand as you scooted over to the door before sliding out of the car as best as you could in your mini skirt.

after both of your feet successfully hit the pavement, you adjusted your black leather mini skirt from riding up before you fixed you black turtleneck to make sure that it was still tucked into your skirt.

“ready?”

“yeah, let’s go.”

--

after making it past the bouncer, Pete led you over to the bar before dropping you off at a bar stool. you watched as he made his rounds saying hi to everyone. it was almost 1 am now. you began to wonder how late you were going to be out tonight.

you suddenly felt two hands on your shoulders causing you to slightly jump.

“you ready for your birthday drink?” Pete shouted in your ear.

“yeah, let’s do it,” you laugh turning to look at him.

“can we get four shots of Fireball?” he shouted to the bartender.

“four?” you shout over your shoulder at him. “I though you weren’t drinking.”

“I’m not. you are. you’re downing all of those.”

“oh god.”

he slapped his hands on your shoulders once more. “you got this, baby.”

the bartender placed the shots in front of you as Pete opened a tab.

“we doing this?” you asked staring at the shots.

“let’s do it.”

you grab your first shot before raising it as a cheers to him. you brought it to your lips and downed it. you felt it burn as it slid down your throat. you squeezed your eyes shut as you finished it.

“that was strong,” you cough.

“next one.”

you down the second one, and then the third one shortly followed. the cinnamon flavor left a burning sensation in your throat.

“last one, last one.” Pete shook your shoulders cheering you on.

“fuck this.” you downed the last one.

--

an hour into your party, it was clear to you that you were feeling very drunk. you had spent the last hour dancing with strangers on the dance floor before slipping back to the VIP section Pete had for you and some of the people at the party. after your first couple shots, he had introduced you to a few people, but at this point, you can’t remember your own name so how could you be expected to remember theirs.

you’re currently sipping on a tequila sunrise now that Pete decided that you handled enough straight liquor. you were slightly leaning on Pete as he stood next to you while you were sitting on one of the barstools for the high tabletops.

“yoooo,” you heard someone call as they approached your table. “dude, whassup.”

Pete leaned over to bro-hug someone before that person began to lean on your table next to Pete. you could hear their muffled conversation as you played with the straw in your drink.

“so what’s this party for anyway?”

“it’s a birthday party,” Pete yelled over the music.

“who’s birthday?”

“hers,” Pete said motioning to you causing you to look up at Pete and his friend. “this is my castmate, (y/n). she just turned 21 so we’re celebrating.”

your eyes met the stranger’s, and you smiled. he was pretty with his bleached-out hair. you gave him a small wave.

“I’m Colson,” he said extending his hand to yours.

“(y/n),” you said taking his hand.

“can I buy a drink for the birthday girl?” he asked flashing you a smile.

“sure,” you said before taking the last sip of your tequila sunrise.

when he brought you back a drink, you stood over your shoulder placing the drink in front of you.

“let’s fucking party.”

“okay,” you shouted before knocking back the drink and taking his hand to lead you to the dance floor.

--

you spent the rest of the night with a set of hands planted firmly around your waist. when you had finally had enough of drinking and dancing, you made your way back over to the VIP section with your six-foot shadow following behind you with his hands still on your hips.

“I’m tired,” you say to Pete as you approach your seat the table. your shadow rested against your back as you hopped up onto the barstool.

“do you want to head home?” Pete asked leaning close to you and your shadow, Colson.

“kinda,” you said leaning your head back on Colson. your drunken state couldn’t careless that you were practically laying against a total stranger.

“do you even have a place to stay tonight?” Pete asked Colson as he looked up from you to the tall guy behind you.

“not really. I could just get a hotel,” you could hear Colson tell Pete.

“you guys can just crash at my apartment. I have a couch and a guest bedroom,” you interrupt as you stare off into space.

“are you sure?” Pete asked.

“yeah, let’s just go home.”

“cool with you?” Pete asked Colson.

“I’m cool,” Colson answered.

10 minutes later, the three of you were sitting in the backseat of a black car, which you assumed was an uber. you head rested against someone’s shoulder as you began to close your eyes.

--

you felt someone jostle you awake. you opened your eyes to find that the uber had parked in front of your building. Pete was leaning in the car once more to help you out. you blinked the sleep out of your eyes as you took his hands. he helped you out of the car just as he had when you got to the club. you felt a pair of hands gently adjust your skirt, and you whipped your head around to find Colson standing behind of you.

“your skirt was riding up, baby,” he said to you while he tapped your hip.

“thanks,” you murmur.

you slapped your keys into Pete’s hand as he went to buzz you in with your code to the building. you began to walk to the door with Colson resting his arm around your shoulder. he kept you walking upright as you both entered the building. you took the elevator up 12 floors.

when you finally stepped foot into your apartment, you stood in the doorway and ripped your heeled boots from your feet. Pete dropped your keys into the bowl by your door, and Colson closed the door behind the three of you.

you turned around to the both of them, almost tripping over your own feet.

“kitchen,” you said pointing to the kitchen, “couch,” pointing to the living room, “guest room,” pointing to the guest room, “bathroom,” you pointed to the bathroom door. “there’s extra blankets in the closet,” you said pointing to the small closet by the bathroom. “help yourself to anything. I’m going to sleep.” you gave them a salute before turning around to your bedroom.

they laughed lightly as you slammed the door behind you.

as you stumbled into your room, you plugged your phone into the charger on your nightstand. after your phone was charging, you slipped your skirt and turtleneck off before slipping on an oversized t-shirt. you quickly wiped off your makeup before falling face down in your bed.

--

the next morning, you woke up with blurry eyes and a fog in your head. you blinked a couple times before rolling over to fall back asleep. you had your eyes closed as you tried to fall back asleep.

that’s when you heard a crash in the kitchen.

you whipped yourself out of bed, and you grabbed the baseball bat from under your bed. you took a deep breath before throwing your bedroom door open. with your bat raised, you lunged out of your bedroom at the intruder.

instead of the intruders, you found Pete and some guy standing in your kitchen messing with your pots and pans.

“jesus fucking christ, Pete, what the fuck?”

“oh, sleeping beauty’s up,” the guy called waving his arms out to you with your skillet and spatula in his hands.

“who is this? and what the fuck are you doing?” you shout annoyed at Pete.

“This is Colson, my friend who you met last night, but guessing from your reaction, you don’t remember much. you let us stay over, and now we are making breakfast,” he said before going back to whatever he was doing.

you felt Colson’s gaze on you. you dropped your bat on your shoulder as you met his stare. you glared into his eyes as he intensely stared back into yours.

“nice bat,” he said still staring.

“thanks, I played softball,” you glared back. “I’m gonna go put some clothes on.”

“you don’t have to,” you heard Colson call back to you as he watched you retreat to your room. from your room, you could hear Pete yell at him in the kitchen.

you laughed lightly as you threw on a pair of sweatpants and put a bra on under your oversized shirt. you took a scrunchie and threw your hair up before heading back to the kitchen.

you plopped yourself down on one of the counter stools in your kitchen.

“what are we eating?” you ask the guys.

“I’m attempting to make pancakes with whatever you have,” Colson called back to you.

“fantastic,” you reply.

“how’s your head?” Pete asked from his spot at the counter.

“it’s not bad. I don’t feel very hungover,” you replied.

“that’s surprising seeing how much you drank last night.”

“what even happened last night?”

“you drank a lot. you danced a lot. then, Colson showed up. then, you drank and danced some more with him.”

“wow,” you mutter staring off into space before you felt Colson staring at you again. you met his eyes before speaking up, “I apologize for that and whatever I did.”

“I didn’t mind,” he said before flipping a pancake.

“it was so funny. you were like one of those velcro monkeys wrapped around him all night,” Pete laughed.

“don’t make fun of me,” you yelled before whacking Pete with a dish towel on the counter. “you’re the one who got me drunk.” they both laughed before you looked up at Colson once more. “I am definitely apologizing for that.”

“I don’t mind. I liked being your arm candy for the night,” he said plopping a pancake on a plate.

you rolled your eyes before opening your phone. “what’s the damage? was there any paparazzi last night?”

“weelllllll,” Pete drew out.

“what?” you whine dropping your head a bit.

“there’s a few from when we left the club, and they followed us back to your building so there’s a few from then too. there’s two articles running already.”

“just because we went out for drinks?” you ask motioning between you and Pete.

“no, because we,” Colson motioned between the three of you. “went out for drinks.” he dropped a plate in front of you. “apology pancakes for the tabloids.”

“how thoughtful,” you murmur. “what did the articles say?”

“nothing just speculation,” Pete said taking a drink. “it’ll go away. you just might want to keep away from Colson for a while.”

“you’re kidding,” you said opening your phone before typing your name into safari.

you scrolled through the new section before you found the pictures from last night. in the pictures, Colson had his arm wrapped around your waist as you were shielding your eyes from the flash. you assumed these pictures were from when you left the club. the other pictures were of the guys helping you out of the car. Colson was standing behind you, towering over you with his arm around you. it totally looked like the two of you were a thing with how touchy you two were. you were not a touchy person when you were sober. you could only assume that the alcohol turned you into a velcro monkey as Pete put it. you briefly skimmed the articles only to find that they were speculating that you and Machine Gun Kelly, Colson Baker, were in a relationship.

“Machine Gun Kelly. you’re Machine Gun Kelly?” you ask him, squinting your eyes at Colson.

he and Pete laughed at you.

“I was wondering if you were going to put it together,” Pete laughed. “that took you forever.”

“well, I’m sorry, but I was drunk.”

“you knew I was friends with MGK,” Pete laughed.

“I didn’t think you were going to invite him to my birthday party.”

“so I take it you’re a fan?” Colson said raising an eyebrow at you.

“I’m not actually. I haven’t even heard your stuff. I’m not really into rap,” you said to him.

“ouch. that’s rough,” he sighed.

“sorry,” you shrugged. “thanks for the pancakes though.” you give him a smile before taking a bite.

Pete’s phone buzzed before he got up from his stool.

“shit, I have to go. I have to take my mom to the airport. are you going to be okay if I leave you?” Pete asked staring at you.

“yeah, I’ll be fine. tell your mom hi for me,” you said looking up at him.

“okay, bye kid. happy birthday.” he wrapped his arms around you.

“thanks for getting me drunk. I had fun,” you said patting his arm.

“yeah, I know,” he called back as he headed to your door.

“be safe,” you shouted before he closed your front door, leaving you with Colson in your kitchen.

you and Colson took a pause as you both watched the door. he was the first to break his gaze as he turned to you. you both made eye contact as you both stared at each other.

“so,” you started.

“so,” he replied leaning down on your counter to stare at you at your eye level.

“so.”

“so, what do we do now?”

“we can watch tv, or you can tell me about last night,” you suggest before shoving another bite into your mouth.

you were not bashful when it came to eating, and you were not deterred by Colson staring into your eyes as you chewed, even if he was really pretty.

“what do you want to know?” he said. his gaze never leaving your eyes.

“we seemed very touchy in those photos,” you hummed taking another forkful of pancakes.

“can’t help that your kinda hot.”

“wow,” you scoff leaning back from the counter. “this is hot for you,” you say shoving the pancakes in your mouth.

“very,” he laughed.

you peered an eye up at him, skeptically. you couldn’t tell if he was being serious. there was no way that someone as pretty as he was would be interested in you.

he extended his hand out to you face as your eyes watched it move to your lip. he flicked a piece of pancake from your lip before smiling at you. you heart practically jumped out of its chest.

fuck. you were crushing.

--

the two of you hung out and talked for the next hour. you both flirted a bit back and forth. you felt this undeniable connection to him, and it made you feel sick. you were notorious for running from people and your feelings. you always chickened out before saying anything to them, and then when you finally got the courage to, that person had already found somebody else.

“fuck, I should go,” Colson said throwing his head back on the couch from where the two of you were sitting. “I don’t want to though.”

“I need to shower and get started with some pitches for work tomorrow,” you say lightly placing your head on the back of the couch.

“okay, I’ll go.”

“I’ll walk you down.”

he took your hand in his as he got up from the couch. he pulled you up as he grabbed his jacket from where it was placed on the arm of the couch.

you grabbed your keys before he pulled you out the door. you closed the door behind you before the two of you waited for the elevator.

you laced your fingers with his as you stepped into the elevator. here goes nothing, you breathed.

“I had a lot of fun with you,” you say staring straight at the doors of the elevator.

he turned to you with you fingers still locked with his. “I really like you.”

“cool, cool,” you say as you saw the number on the elevator tick to floor 6. you turn to him. “I should give you my number.”

he slipped you his phone, and you typed your number into his phone before handing back to him.

“cool, cool,” he started as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

1

2

3

you counted before grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down to your height. you stood on your tiptoes, and you placed your lips on his. he grabbed your face as he kissed you back.

the elevator dinged as the doors opened. you broke away from him as you shoved him out the doors.

“call me sometime,” you say as you stood alone in the elevator.

“aye aye captain,” he saluted you. he moved back toward the elevator before pulling you back to him. “one more for the road.” he kissed you until you couldn’t breathe.

you finally pulled away for air while he held his hands on your head.

“you’re fucking gorgeous.”

“you’re not too bad yourself. now go so I can work,” you said fully pulling away before the elevator alarm was set off. “Bye Colson,” you said hitting your floor button.

“Bye (y/n),” he waved as the doors shut.

--

as you made your way back to your apartment, your phone dinged.

unknown number: hi velcro monkey

you rolled your eyes as you entered your apartment. this man was going to be the death of you.

.

.

.

first Colson Baker imagine. feel free to send requests. - rose xx

#mgk #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagines #colson baker #colson baker imagines #colson baker x reader #machine gun kelly x reader

[betelgeuse-1988]

okay I've never made. a request b4, but uhhh anything nsfw with lawrence + a trans man reader? no real requirements or anything, maybe just like having it be soft n loving,, idk I have a crush on this man n yr writing is lovely <3

omg thank you so much for the request!! and i'm so honored you like my writing fjhdsakfhsa

anyway here it is! i hope it's soft enough for you <3

lawrence x ftm reader (this is my first time writing an explicitly trans reader; lmk if there are any ways i can improve/things i should change!)

warnings: cockwarming, petnames galore!!, unprotected sex, + this was written at 1:00am so big sorry if there are mistakes

“Lawrence?” you said, peaking into his office. It had been a while since the two of you spent a night together, and you were curious as to what had him stuck in his office so late recently.

“Yes, darling?” He said, not looking up from his work. He was sketching something again, Lawrence would always tell you it was just a secret project for a friend. Despite being absorbed by his work, he had a wide smile on his face at the sound of your voice.

Your relationship with the doctor was...strange to say the least. You were hired as an assistant to help him around his mostly-barren apartment after his separation and especially after he received his prosthetic foot. It was a winter job, for you, in order to make some money while off from college. After that, and a few other events most may deem “unethical”, you moved in and developed a budding relationship with the doctor.

“I just…” you trailed off, nervous to ask him for anything all of a sudden. You looked away but also began walking into his office. Perhaps, even for a while, being closer to him would provide you with the necessary confidence to reveal your desires and curiosities. “I wanted to know when you were coming to bed?”

“Oh, darling,” he said, still not looking up at you. “I got home from work late and I really need to finish this as soon as possible. I’m sorry, but…” he stopped, finally looking into your eyes to see your apprehension and just how lonely you looked. “But, why don’t you come here and keep me company?”

You moved to sit in a chair next to his desk, saved for when you would finish work for class with him in his office. Lawrence, however, stopped you before you could actually sit all the way down. “No, I meant, why don’t you come here and sit like a good boy?” he said, patting his lap gently. You smiled and nodded, walking to Lawrence’s side, ready to sit down on his lap. “Ah ah ah,” he stopped you again, pulling down the zipper on his pants. Lawrence pulled out his cock, jerking it to make sure it’s fully hard. Getting wet at the prospect of having sex in his office, something Lawrence was usually turned off by, you pulled down the shorts you were going to sleep in. The doctor chuckled at your eagerness, continuing to jerk himself off slowly. “Now, darling, you’re gonna sit here like the good boy you are and you’re gonna stay as still as possible with my cock in your hole, okay? And if you behave, I’ll fuck you on my desk like you’ve always wanted.”

Too caught up in his words, there was nothing elegant about your response. You could already hear the overeagerness in your voice, without having said anything. “Okay, I’ll try to be good for you, Lawrence.” You walked over to him, fingering yourself open for him. He watched you as he jerked himself off, precum leaking from the tip of his cock already. He rubbed a hand up and down your side as you worked yourself up to three fingers. Once you could thrust them inside comfortably, you pulled them out and finally seated yourself on Lawrence’s member. Feeling him fill you completely right away, without moving, was odd. It was hard not to twitch or squirm, but Lawrence kept an arm wrapped around you. It was a tight grip, reassuring you that you could follow his orders. You were so distracted by keeping still you couldn’t really pay attention to what Lawrence was writing or drawing, only grounded by the few places where you could feel him touching you, skin-to-skin.

It could have been minutes or hours, but the time seemed to tick by like years. You could feel yourself getting wetter, becoming sloppy with how you were stretched around his dick. You were desperate for friction, for Lawrence to just completely wreck you when he tapped your stomach and put his pen down.

“You were so good for me, such a good boy. Now, do you want your reward?” Lawrence pressed delicate kisses on your back, rubbing your stomach as he thrust gently into you.

“Lawrence, please. Need you to fuck me, right here,” you moaned out desperately.

“Shh, it’s gonna be okay. Get up and bend over the desk.”

You hopped off him gently, not wanting to upset his leg more than it probably already was with how long you were sitting in his lap. You pushed some of the papers he had just been working on off to the side, laying directly on his work calendar (filled out with color-coded events and special dates). You felt Lawrence get up behind you, not bothering to discard any other pieces of clothing, his cock poking proudly out of his pants. His khaki pants still cinched by his belt, with a light blue shirt on top and a loose-hanging red tie. You felt like the doctor’s little boytoy, sneaking around during work hours. And, yet, he looked at you, so full of love and admiration, that you knew he genuinely loved and cared about you.

He entered you again, setting a brutal pace easily. Lawrence slipped in, filling you completely and quickly. You were both sensitive from the lengthy cockwarming, approaching your orgasm quickly. Helping to draw yourself closer, you jerked yourself off, desperate to finally reach your orgasm. Lawrence gripped your hips as his thrusting became quicker with an approaching orgasm. Feeling his cock twitch, you encouraged him to cum inside of you. “Cum inside me, Lawrence. Please, please, need it so bad. Make me cum, fill me up.”

His hips slowed down against yours as he groaned through his orgasm, your head dropping to the desk. Lawrence’s cum, on top of his desperate thrusting through his orgasm, helped you to reach yours, squeezing around his cock, finishing off his orgasm. Lawrence sighed contently behind you, pulling out to let you get up. He handed you the discarded shorts as you stretched, ready to head to bed for the night. But, instead of accepting the shorts right away, you pulled him in for a hug, kissing his cheek sloppily.

“Thank you, Larry. You always know what I need,” you snuggle into his neck, content to be in his loving presence after so long. “I love you, darling.”

He snorts at your use of his favorite petname, but he squeezes you extra tight. “Love you, too, darling.”

#AHH i'm so tired i promise to get to the last few reqs tomorrow morning xoxo <333 #lawrence gordon x reader #ask #nsft #minors dni

[pepperpills]

The Harvest - RE8 Fanfic

The Harvest

A Resident Evil 8 fan fiction by Joana

Karl Heisenberg x Female Reader

Notes: heey, so here is Part III, hope you all enjoy it! i'm thinking of starting a new story soon, once this is ended, probably focusing more on world building and Karl and reader relationship hehe

Warning: NSFW content

Part I - Destiny (1) Part I - Destiny (2) Part II - The Lord

Part III – The Hunt

Getting to know the factory turned out to be a fantastic experience. You had never seem so many different paraphernalia in your live, the closer you had ever got to that was when you were a child poking around your dad’s storeroom, but there were only some tools, agriculture products and inherited ornaments from your cabin family – these last ones were your absolute favourite.

Heisenberg’s factory, on the other hand, was full of interesting things, some of them you had no idea what were used for. You even found a suspicious “torture” room, but couldn’t dig into it, once he was nearby. Still, you found his journals narrating his experiments, his audio reports and some guide books on mechanics that had you intrigued for a long time while reading them. He was a madman, you were convinced, but at the same time, that secluded part of you was growing a little each day you explored his life.

Lord Heisenberg was nicer and quieter than you would imagine. He basically lived in his various offices across the factory, mostly he would be trying new mechanisms on bodies and seeing how they reacted with the Cadou, the strange parasite the villagers mentioned only on rare and veiled conversations. As far as it wasn’t you, or your family, lying cold on one of the stretchers, you didn’t care. As a matter of fact, you felt tempted to try some things with the gears yourself as you deepen your studies in his books.

At your first days there, you got worried you would have to share the bed with him, which would be much more proximity than you had ever had with another person. The man had already seen your half naked and that was enough. However, he didn’t sleep there with you and you wondered why, once he so enthusiastically mocked you about it when you arrived. Actually, you started doubting he ever slept at all.

You were still a bit scared, though, never knowing if he would play a prank on you, so you were very careful to avoid him for a while - that didn’t endure –, believing you should give him space to get used to your presence after the mood he got into after your reception.

He was disturbed, indeed. His work was getting closer to a crucial point that involved Mother Miranda. He musted be discreet, but it was proving to be a real trial with Soldats activating and running around as lost beasts. Also, having you around actually gave him a new problem.

Lord Heisenberg would walk around the factory looking for material, testing the Soldats and cursing a lot, some of these swearwords you didn’t even know, but started liking how he used them, almost cartoonish. It was never directed to you, of course. He acted like you weren’t there most of the time, in others, when he was more chilled, with less work to do, he asked “how is the mess at the wing, buttercup?” laughing at you blushing at his indiscreet platonic flirts.

You had to find your way around the factory. That place was a labyrinth and a map would come handy, so you drew it on some clean papers you found lying around, loving not to get lost anymore. You hadn’t been face-to-face to one of his creations yet, just saw them on the production lines on the overview of the factory and on some specific rooms. You also avoided it due to fear.

He told you where the wing to be cleaned was and you found it after an hour. It was so incredibly packed with mechanical parts that you could barely come inside to take a look. Huffing, you thought that he could solve that without moving a muscle. It made you mad, but also made you wonder what you were doing there. You cleaned it anyway, as it was your duty and used that waste to build some minor projects.

At the end of your expedient, your hands were orange because of the rusty irons you were moving all day long and you had little cuts here and there, but nothing really bad. As it was going, it wouldn’t take long for you to finish cleaning and could even decorate it for him, making it feel more like home to you too.

You were liking it there. Of course, it was dusty, grey, sometimes rusty and hot all the time, but it was also very different from everything. Once you said goodbye to the cabins, then to the Village and maybe being away from Miranda’s dominance made you feel lighter.

You found some red fabric lying around somewhere, appearing to be forgotten, made some nature sketches on blank papers and put yellow lights on the bedroom and on Karl’s soon-to-be new working room. It looked cosy. You hoped he would appreciate it when he met the reformed wing, until then, you would keep quiet not to bother him.

Though, shortly after you finished decorating the bedroom, an event destroyed your plans of avoiding Heisenberg. On your daily route to what you would now call your wing, you crossed the kitchen and found an overcoat-less Karl trying to prepare a sandwich. He had any chef’s nightmare happening in that place. There were blunt knives flying around, a metal cup chasing the kettle spilling hot coffee all over the floor as he tried to open a bottle of whiskey and, finally, hot coffee hit Heisenberg’s chest and he screamed and cursed like a sore animal.

“FUCK!” He thundered, his word echoing in the corridor where you stood.

You couldn’t ignore that scene even if you tried. You were getting tired of not talking to him, you lived together now and all your few friends were slowly becoming distant memories. You would be happy to hear his voice, something else than gears rumble, even if it was cursing your predecessors.

As a powerful person, he would try to use his powers to do simple things and do a real mess instead. You felt compelled to give him some support, maybe it was a part of your mother’s care for others that lived in you too. You entered the kitchen headstrong, holding a laugh at his misery looks. Now he was stroking his shirt with a cloth and only noticed you when you were getting around the island.

You didn’t know, however, he never “never noticed” you. He felt your presence at the corridor before you saw him and he felt ashamed of you seeing him failing at a stupid task, and so forth his reaction was to be boorish.

“What?” He asked in a rude tone.

“Just let me help.” You offered, placing your hand in the air between you two. It wasn’t really an offer, you were just being polite, you would help him one way or another, you would have your small talk, but he wouldn’t give up so easily. “Please.” You asked, making the sweeter voice you could.

He huffed and threw the wet cloth on the sink. You took another cloth from one of the drawers – you were getting used to the utensils’ places –, wet it a little with water and looked at him, your head slightly tilted to the right.

“What is it, kitten?” Heisenberg questioned, roughly playful then.

“It is your shirt.” You pointed.

“Yes, it is dirty. Weren’t you trying to help?” He started to lose patience.

“Yeah, I am. It is just… You will have to take it off.” You let it out unpretentiously, although in your mind you were revengeful.

“Oh.” He understood and immediately took it off with so much easiness you wondered how many times he did that when you were so uncertain of it at your first day.

You had never seem him shirtless. To be quite sincere, you hadn’t seen many shirtless men in your life. The Village was a very cold town, once it was deep into a forest in the mountains, so even in the summer there wasn’t a hot weather, so people tended to keep their clothes on. Because of this, when he took it off you instantly blushed at his scarred chest.

He has what you would call a dad body. It isn’t really sinewy, although still very strong with thick arms and defined muscles. He has some belly, which means he isn’t a skinny person, but he isn’t fat also. And maybe you took too long looking at him like that and feeling weird feelings you would think about later that night.

“You’re almost drooling there, buttercup.” He teased you and when you quickly, but gently, started cleaning his chest with the cloth, so you wouldn’t have to answer, he gave up a deliciously loud laugh.

You laughed with him, making him laugh even harder. You didn’t want to admit it, but you liked it, this casual connection between you two. The laugh died a gradual death and you started moving you hand on his chest, feeling its warmth below the cloth. You could almost swear his breathing was getting faster and you saw he was biting his lips, maybe because you were taking too long. You didn’t want to finish, but you both know there wasn’t much coffee on him anyway.

You put the cloth with the other one in the sink and as you watered them, you saw him going to get his shirt that had been laying on the island.

“No, no, no.” You said, taking it from his hands kind brusquely, making him confused. “I need to wash these.”

“I see.” He said, raising his hands to show he wouldn’t try again, as a peace offer that made you grin.

“I can finish your sandwich for you, it will only take a minute.” You added, embarrassed to be so bossy with him.

“I will be at my office.” He told you and left without looking back.

You thought he got mad at you because of the shirt situation. It made you sad, you started having a nice approach. To compensate you made him a really good sandwich with the meat and vegetables you found in the refrigerator. Searching for food there you considered asking him to go see the Duke and buy supplies, maybe even hunt, because you didn’t have enough provisions. Anyway, you also prepared the coffee, poured a glass of cowboy whisky – sipped one, two or three times yourself – and cleaned what was there to be cleaned. It took more than one minute, but less than teen.

You were heading to his office when you heard a muffled noise. It sounded guttural and made you shiver. Electricity running through your body, making you feel hopelessly exposed, only that countered by the alcohol it felt good. You stepped carefully as you got closer to the door. You considered not knocking, but the noise made you knock.

“Just…” He gasped. “Leave it at the door, please.” Heisenberg was painting, but he asking “please” was what made up your mind, that politeness wasn’t usual, so you did what he requested.

You wanted to be around him on that day, but chose to respect his privacy. You didn’t imagine that his mind was blowing with you, he desperately wanted to continue the kitchen talk, but couldn’t give himself the chance once he was so close to perfecting the Soldats.

To ease your thoughts, as you were no longer requested at the factory, you tested your stealth skills and slipped to the forest behind it, caring your bow and arrows determinedly.

You were familiar with that area as you have hunted all around the Village, thus, you knew where to go to find good preys. It was by the lake were the deer stopped to drink water. It was far from the factory entrance, but again, you knew exactly what you were doing. When approaching the lake, you climbed a tree and waited.

It didn’t take long until a lonely deer appeared, unsuspicious. It leaned its head so it could reach the water level and started drinking it. You positioned one arrow, held your breath and did the physics magic. The arrow nailed its left eye. It didn’t scream, it was over very quickly.

You climbed the tree down, came closer to the body and tied it with the rope you brough from the factory. Your way back wasn’t effortless, you were slower due to the extra weight and the lycans sensed its blood, their sounds were all around you. They wouldn’t hurt your, though, somehow, they knew you were with Heisenberg.

It was past four in the afternoon when you reached the factory, panting with the effort of bringing the deer. Heisenberg was poking around for something in his front yard. He noticed you just as you appeared in his peripherical vision. He walked towards you, with an intrigued expression that transformed into an impressed one when he saw the deer.

“Some gifts you have there, kitten, ain’t gonna lie.” He commented, squatting to take a good look at the animal. “How did you do that?” It was clear he didn’t mean to offend, quite the opposite, he was genuinely curious.

“A girl has her secrets.” You answered, when you finally stop panting, shrugging when internally you are fulfilled someone knew about you hunting and didn’t seem mad at you.

He wasn’t even angry you left the factory without his permission, which made you happier. He stood below you with the animal for a few seconds more, than got up on his feed, laid his hands on your shoulders, well, on your skin hunting jacket, and said “You are really something, kitten.”

You fell for his words. You never wanted to feel that dependant on someone’s appreciation for you, but with him it was lighter. Karl took the weight of the world off your shoulders by bringing you there and kind off supporting you even though you had only spent little more than a month together.

“Thank you, my lord.” You spoke.

“Stop it. Call me Karl.” He said roughly, but good hearted. “Now, do you know how to clean this deer?” Heisenberg asked.

Usually, Duke would do it for you, although you knew the theory, you hadn’t much practice.

“I was hoping you could help me with it, Karl.” You suggested, toasting him a malicious smile.

“For fuck’s sake.” But he cursed laughing.

He cleaned this table at the garage and disposed the deer there. You helped him doing the messy job, learning with him what you only saw the Duke doing. It wasn’t pretty, but you were comforted by his presence and obstinacy. He probably did it often as it showed, but didn’t bother to take it slower so he could teach you.

Heisenberg enjoyed that night more than you could imagine. He didn’t care for the Soldats, they could wait, it was nice being around you for a change, not running away from your hair, your smile, your presence. For the first time in his life, he actually had someone who wanted to be around him.

Later your prepared venison, demi-glace, potatoes, a fresh arugula salad and both of your enjoyed dinner at the kitchen island with bottles of dark beer. He was funny, he was tripping over words a little, due to the alcohol, but his stories, oh man… He was a real brat. You told him about the cabins and the hunting. He listened carefully, never judging you and laughed at your silly manners, at your etiquette and, over all, loved your cook.

He slept in the bed with you, tired, amused and drunk, he sunk in his dreams. You stayed up a bit longer, resisting your lazy eyes temptations just to appreciate his scent, it would smell like burned wood.

#resident evil #re8 #karl heisenberg #re village #karl heisenberg x reader #resident evil 8 village #heisenberg #heisendaddy #heisenberg resident evil #resident evil viii #resident evil 8 fanfic #original post #resident evil village #re8 karl heisenberg #resident evil heisenberg #fanfic #re fanfic #the harvest

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Geeking Out

Masterlist

You work onset of the witcher as the resident handy girl there to repair the props onset rather then them being sent off to be fixed, when working on Geralt’s sword Henry comes across you and with one slip of the tongue your inner geeks collide.

Warnings: Fluff, Swearing

A/N: Had this on my mind for a while just a cute little fluff piece hope you enjoy XX

Taglist: @havenoffandoms​ @iloveyouyen​ @angelofthor​ @thatgirly81​

Incredible text dividers are from @writeyourmindaway​ I suggest you go check out her others they are soo usefull xx.

You hummed quietly managing to secure yourself a table in one of the busy tents just off set, you moved quickly furiously mixing the epoxy trying to combine the two parts with the lolly stick. Your task? you were trying to fix Geralt’s sword there had been a small mishap during a scene renfri's brooch had been hit in one of the takes and had come off. Your job was to put it back on and make sure its stays on , so this time you were forgoing the original glue and using a tiny amount of epoxy it was stronger and once it cured that little brooch wasn't coming off for love nor money. Your job was maintenance on the props ,you were kept onset with a small arsenal of tools to fix anything that gets damaged quick and skilled repair jobs anything from the horse tack to props jewellery the only things you didn't touch was wardrobe because...Fuck no. Textiles was not your thing.

You moved fast wanting to have it mixed thoroughly. This particular resin cured fast...very fast well for resin anyway, so it was always a rush to combine it. You moved a syringe and pulled the plunger up then dotted the resin on the hilt of the sword swiftly applying the brooch then looked around for the clamp. Shit. It was to far you couldn't reach it. You tried stretching down into your bag for it but it was no use suddenly someone was behind you.

"Need help?" You nodded to the slim clamp in the bag

"Yeah could you pass me the clamp forgot to get it out just got this bloody thing central and can't risk it slipping" you focused on your work holding the brooch steady as the person hummed leaning down then handed it to you.

"Cheers lovey" you thanked them and leaned down with one final check that everything was positioned correctly nodding you placed a rag across it protecting it and clamped it securely.

"Sorry about that... Misjudged the angle and hit it to hard I'm afraid" you froze looking up seeing Henry in full wardrobe bar his contacts smiling sheepishly. Even tho you'd been onset this whole time you'd never actually spoke to any of the cast there was no need. You quickly swallowed your shock and laughed.

"Don’t matter to me, keeps me in a job so go nuts!" you both laughed he looked over the things you had out across the table, you followed his gaze. Noting how he then moved to stare at you intently, you felt a flush creep across your chest but cleared your throat nodding to the prop.

"I've used epoxy on it ...It should be a lot stronger." He hummed not really paying attention.

"Anyway its not your fault they used a mid strength glue last time.. I don't think they had a clue how much of a beating it was gonna take" he hummed then peeked over the cup that had a small amount of resin in it still.

"So I can go to town on it?" You nodded wiping your hands down and smirked at him.

"Knock yourself out muscles! I doubt even you will be able to snap that off again....And that's not a challenge either" he rubbed the back of his head smirking at you as you moved dumping the cup with the left overs in a bag then in a small bucket with sand in it that was used as an ashtray for the crew on set. He looked at you questioning. You nodded to it.

"Get's hot when curing so I will leave it there to be safe then take it out when its set..." he hummed in agreement  then moved with you helping to pack up your things.

"So how long will it take to be finished then?" You froze wide eyed

"Why do they need it now?" You panicked they had said it wasn't needed today so you could work on it... did they change their mind? he quickly held his hands up

"No no we are done with it for today...I just wondered was all.." you stopped and flushed at him, you felt a little embarrassed as you had begun to cuss him out in your head thinking he was being rude trying to rush you.

"About an hour...Well I hope an hour it really depends, if there is any leakage  then I will have to sand it with my dremel...and to do a proper job of that I'd need to go through a few different grits and but if theres no leakage  or any nastiness then we should be done in about half an hour....This epoxy cures in ten to twelve  minutes but to be sure I'd want to leave it around twenty to twenty five ish but either way by the end of the day you sir will have your sword back." He looked between you and his prop wilth a huge smile.

"Sounds like a plan! .....Still feel bad tho I'm sure you have tonnes to do already...nevermind me adding to it." You waved him of with a wide grin

"Your kidding! Been waiting to get my hands on this baby since day one! Needed to see the details for my -" you stopped yourself before you said to much not wanting to 'geek out' in front of him he tilted his head sharply.

"Your what? You making a replica or something?" You flushed at him bobbing your head side to side a little.

"Well yes and no...not a full scale one I'm gonna make a mini..." his face lit up and you could see him become excited.

"You make mini's? Like wow and stuff?" He asked buzzing in the way all geeks do when they find a fellow nerd to speak geek with. You giggled an nodded.

"Yes I can't paint them to save my life but I draw and make them on the pc for people to download and use on their 3d printers....I'm more into scenery dioramas...I make tabletop boards" he grinned at you practically vibrating on the spot.

"Seriously? That’s soo cool...Do you have any pictures of them?" You smiled and nodded just as you got your phone out you both heard it Henry's name was called by Joey he sighed and gave a small chuckle.

"Looks like I'm needed...I will be back later to see them and collect my sword...If not hold on to it for me?" You gave him a funny look as he stayed for a moment giving you his best puppy eyes. You laughed and nodded to him, he grinned and quickly left. You stood dumbfounded as he stole a few glances over his shoulder at you before disappearing around the corner. Well that was weird, normally the props were picked up by...well anyone to be stored the cast never did hence why you'd never seen them. You shrugged it off and continued placing your stuff away zipping up your bag.

That was the first time you met the man, later that day he did indeed return and spent nearly two hours geeking out looking at your collection of dioramas, he specifically liked the ones base on Lord of the rings and the few marvel and dc ones you'd done. All of which were centered around villains. It wasn't long before it became a habit that between takes he would seek you out, sometimes bringing Joey along. Soon you found yourselves together all the time, they seemed fascinated by your work and hobby always asking questions, to the point you'd snapped at them when they wouldn't shut up when you tried fixing a particularly fiddly jewellery piece . Even then they stayed sitting either side of you staring as you maneuvered the tiny gems and links back into place.

By the time the production came to a end you had all become close friends each of you exchanging numbers and always texting in a group chat. You couldn't help harboring a little crush on Henry, and you had tried but he was just so...him and maybe he liked you back? You wasn't sure but he seemed to be touchy...Not in a bad way god no! But he was a hugger and holder. When ever he was around you he always seemed to be touching you in some way holding your hand or arm as he dragged you about set,slinging an arm around your shoulders or waist at lunch or when you was working stuff like that. Maybe you were just reading into things to much but it felt like there might be something there. Or at least you hoped there might be, he was sweet funny and dorky but still mature and masculine he was basically your dream man, and then some!

You sulked today was your final day on set you were looking forward to returning home and just relaxing but at the same time you'd miss the guys. You'd all clicked with one another and were so used to them popping up whenever. You tilted your head as you ran your pen across the sketch in you book. It was a close up of Jaskier’s lute details you'd been working on. You were trying to take your mind off things you were scared of them forgetting about you, it wasn't often you managed to click with people let alone men, you supposed you were anxious usually you were fine alone but you found yourself craving company since hanging around them. You glanced up when you heard them before you saw them as they approached you . Sitting up you quickly shook off your sadness as they both made their way across to you.

"Hey bitches" they chuckled at you taking seats at the table the three of you had claimed for the past months.

"God I can't believe its over...I cant wait to see it!" Joey said enthusiastically make you and Henry nod.

"Me neither its gonna be incredible! Its gonna be big you know that don't you? After the great flop of game of thrones their fanbase are gonna be lost and looking for something similar" Joey blinked he hadn't thought of that.

"Really? Didn't think of it like that." You smiled at him and wriggled your eyebrows "And you sir are never escaping that fucking song either so be prepared" he furrowed his brows

"How’d you know about that?" You smirked

"It was one of the few scenes I was allowed to watch them film...and it was stuck in my head for a fucking week the worst bit? I couldn't go and download it from youtube either it was hell!" He chuckled at your frown and leaned over you his eyes caught the page you were working on it was the first time he'd caught a glimpse at your artwork.

"Oh shit! That’s cool" you looked down alarmed then went to cover your image but he had already pulled it from under your nose.

"Henry look!" You flushed a not wanting them to see your sketches. He smiled and flicked a few pages. He looked up through his lashes at you.

"These are really good y/n super detailed... They for your mini's?" You nodded at him sheepishly as you noticed he had found your Geralt cheat sheet. He smirked seeing the page full of his Geralt pulling various faces then skipped a few pages to Joey's Jaskier.  He past it back to him.

"Here there's yours" Joey gasped at them

"Holy shit...Did you do all the cast? Are you gonna 3d print em?" You nodded to him

"I did the main cast once I get home I’m gonna start putting them into the computer but yes eventually they will be printed for people to use...After I sort them out  I’m gonna be making a witcher diorama to display them." Henry smiled at you

"Can you teach me to make one?" You blinked at him not sure you’d heard him right

"What?" He nodded to your book.

"Id like a set for my collection and small a diorama for them...I have always wanted to try it but it seems expensive to get the stuff if I’m crap at it...And it would be fun to make one with you...If you wanted to that is?" You flushed at him gaping.

"Err Ive never done a collaboration before but sure we could give it a go...Could do a witcher one for you to display these mini's...I wont be painting them tho not good at it, sketching is fine but I can't do detail paint....scenery is more forgiving... " he nodded enthusiastically at you like a kid on Christmas.

"Really! Fuck Absolutely! I always wanted to try scenery that would be brilliant." He flushed a little as Joey snorted at him and received a sharp look. It had become common knowledge that he had a thing for you. Everyone seemed to have caught on to it and had all told him to go for it but he was shy...He was nervous what if he had read you wrong? And you didn't like him back? He would be quite embarrassed  and torn up if he asked you out and you shot him down...so no he would settle for being friends.You smiled at him missing their exchange between them.

"Err sure just let me know when your free...I’m not that far from You in London right? Just give me a heads up when you wanna come round" Henry looked ecstatic, it was true he had found out a few weeks ago you was literally Fifteen minutes away from his place in London. He realized you had caught him staring blushing he moved directing his attention back to your drawings again. Joey noticed the awkward moment and swiftly poked your side.

"I want some too! A perfect mini me! Just what everyone needs" You scoffed

"A mini you sounds like a threat! god help us all!" You all laughed spending the remaining time reminiscing on the last few weeks until finally it was time for you to leave. You pouted hugging both of them.

"Gonna miss you two have fun on the promotion tour and stay in touch okay guys" they smiled hugging you back Henry squeezed you tight pulling you up off of the floor making you whine at him.

"I will definitely call and will probably be round September October time" you nodded and finally wriggled away from him leaving the hotel heading home.

Once home you quickly got to work uploading and designing your mini's on the pc you had been speaking to the boys a bit but as time went on you heard less and less from Henry until finally six weeks later all conversation had stopped. Which really didn't surprise you, he was busy...Well that's what you told yourself, it was a shitty excuse you were saying to keep yourself from getting upset. you had found yourself enjoying his company to much. You liked him like liked him, it was fun talking to him,  he was interested in the same things as you and was funny and you had brilliant banter you wasn't constantly worried about how you acted around him because he just got you, you thought you’d both got on well and could remain friends. Somewhere in the back of your mind you stupidly had hoped something would come of it ....But that was a silly childish fantasy. Still you asked Joey a few times and he said that Henry was dealing with some stuff and would come around eventually but it did nothing to cheer you up. You resigned yourself to the fact that he was bored and needed someone to talk to on set that was it. You and Joey still spoke at least once a week even if it was just a quick 'hi how are you?'. You could kick yourself as even when you realized Henry wasn't going to meet up with you, you still began his diorama... Some silly little hope that he might still show but it was unlikely so the diorama was now yours ,you'd planned to make one using your new Netfilx witcher mini's the base was done and you were building up the Styrofoam. The design was going to be a small woodland area with a tiny waterfall running into a stream next to the witchers camp in which the four main characters would sit...Well five including roach. You sighed looking at the blocks of Styrofoam they had been glued down and are now ready to be carved. It had been ready for two weeks but... You suppose it was a little hope that if you didn't start it he would come around like he said. But when Christmas came and went you finally realized he wasn't coming.

Just as you moved to the wall socket and turned on your hot wire cutter you heard the doorbell go frowning you got up dragging your feet as you walked through the kitchen to the hall, as you got closer you could see a huge frame through the frosted glance. It looked a lot like..

"Henry? What are you?" He smiled sheepishly down at you. He chuckled nervously.

"Ah hi y/n...Long time no see?" You crossed you arms at him making him gulp.

"What can I do for you?" You tried keeping your voice even tho inside you were a a quivering mess of irritation anxiety and my god you felt weak in The knees and all the man was doing was standing there!how you even formed words you don't know. Henry the man you'd been pining over was here. He was on your doorstep. And you hadn't let him in what the fuck? why hadn't you invited him in yet?. Pride was the answer, you didn't want to seem desperate. he just straight up ignored you...for months!. You were intent on being angry with him, wanting to give him a piece of your mind. just as you rose your gaze to his you froze.Shit. you gulped eyes softening as you took in his appearance, he looked so anxious and guilty? even then he took your breath away, as gorgeous as you remembered him. he stood a little less confident to what you remembered shoulders slouched his eyes darting around almost as if he was fearful of your reaction, you took a deep breath gripping your front door in a white knuckle grip.He looked to you neighbors door step seeing the nosey old women Mrs Hamlin standing there staring outright, then turned to you going a little red twisting his coat pockets in his hands sighing, sucking it up and started talking.

"Hey I know we haven't been talking its just I ah...well I got a little caught up with the promo tour and that then had to negotiate season two and on the way to the final stop I lost my phone-well I destroyed it really dropped a fucking dumbbell on the thing in the gym..Then Christmas was hectic...Anyway that’s not the point...The point is by the time I got a new phone and found Joeys number and had him send me yours it...I felt like I had left it to long to reply... I wasn't sure if you'd be angry thinking I was ignoring you..." you blinked up at him stunned. That’s why he suddenly stopped he broke his phone and lost you number? You took a step back feeling incredibly stupid. You’d honestly began thinking the worst of him. You felt so bad.

"So...instead of phoning or texting you thought you'd just...come round?" He winced at you tone

"I wanted to talk in person...I wanted you to know I was genuinely sorry...I am sorry I let my anxiety get the better of me...I-I should go" you panicked as he began to turn around and quickly grabbed his arm

"Thank you Henry...You don't owe me anything but you coming here to speak to me means a lot ...I just assumed you were busy...I'll admit I did get a little upset when time went on and you still didn't reply...But now I understand why, we waited for each other to start a conversation again, like a couple  of school kids...Would you like to come in for a coffee?" He grinned wide and nodded glancing to the side eyeing your neighbor who had continued staring at him. You followed his gaze she was really giving him the evil eye.

"What er what is wrong with your neighbor? I mean I knocked on the wrong house but she is kind of freaking me out." You glanced at her and smiled waving

"Morning Mrs Hamlin" she hissed out a pleasant 'go fuck yourself' at you and entered slamming her door. You laughed at Henry's shocked face.

"She's just not a people person...Any way come in your letting all my heat out" you moved to the side letting him enter the small hall closing the door behind him.

"Hang your coat up and I will get some tea on" he did as you asked and followed you to the kitchen then spied your hobby room.

"Is that where you do all your bits?" You smiled nodding as you made the tea

"Yep! Here come in I was just about to start on the witcher one you can help carve, here I'll show you" he followed like a lost puppy paying attention as you began to guide him through the steps letting him carve out the shapes you wanted smiling ear to ear the whole time as you showed him your plan for the scene.

It took a week but finally the diorama was finished, Henry bless him had found some of the steps tricky resulting in a few cuts and burns from the hot wire cutter but he had enjoyed every second of it.Today was the last day working on the project everything was done and you both looked at it.

"Wow its a lot of steps but...It look so realistic...I loved doing the water ripples using the airgun tho it was genius!" You smiled looking at it then jumped up.

"Not finished yet tho here, I printed them last night." You moved over to a small tub with your Netflix Witcher cast mini's and roach in it, they were in isopropyl  alcohol to clean them up after printing. You'd spent some time re-scaling them to fit the scene you'd just finished. His eye went wide as he saw them.

"Wow...these are from your drawings...How'd you get so much detail...May I?" You nodded to him as he carefully moved them from the tub and inspected them. He was fascinated.

"Thank you so much! Their great...perfect even...I've had so much fun this week" you patted his arm

"Me to big guy, its been nice having someone around to talk to, your really good with a bit more work you’ll be making your own in no time" he moved placing the mini's on the finished diorama then stood back.

"That’s a bit of a stretch don't you think...I'm dreading painting it tho.." you laughed holding your hands up.

"Hey don't look at me I print em you paint em that Mr Cavill was the deal" he rolled his eyes biting his lip. The last week had been above and beyond what he had hoped for. He couldn't help wanting more from you tho, he in a way felt a little selfish he wanted you to himself. He stood tall in front of you contemplating his next move.Should he?. Could he? He knew he wanted to try and pursue you but he still had doubts. You blinked and gulped seeing a heated glint in his eyes that was clouded with anxiety.

"Hen-henry?" He hummed in response his heart just about jumping out of his chest as he moved in slowly noticing you leaning towards him to...Did you want him to kiss you? You looked like you wanted to kiss him... Should he let you kiss him first? Or was he reading this all wrong. Fuck. He couldn't take it his nerves and thoughts buzzing he panicked momentarily and just went for it. Dipping his head quickly he connected his lips to yours tilting his head he moved closer shuffling his feet forward. It took you a few seconds to realize what he was doing but when the shock finally disappeared you moaned into him moving to cup the back of his neck. He grunted pulling back for air taking one large gulp then wrapped himself around you pinning you to between himself and the table, clutching you to his front cradling you against him as you accepted him into your mouth groaning as he was quick to explore, dragging your tongue to dance around his moaning and teasing you letting his hands fall to cup your bottom grabbing the full cheeks rolling them around lightly then pulled back from your mouth. He looked down through half lidded eyes and smiled seeing your dazed expression.

"Well...That was, a long time coming and definitely worth the wait...Hopefully i wont have to wait as long for the next one?" you glowed red at that and wriggled a little freezing noticing he still had a firm grip on your ass. You nodded shyly at him.

"Y-you waited to do that?" He nodded moving his hands up from your ass to your sides smoothing his thumbs across your ribs lightly not willing to let you go for a second.

"Yes..For a long time the others were pestering me but I was shy...Wasn't sure if you'd like me or not...Didn't want to ruin our friendship..." you stuttered looking up into his sparkling eyes seeing him flustered and shy made you feel a little better

"Of course I do!...Had a crush on you for...well a long time but just like you I didn't want to rock the boat" he looked at you shocked then laughed loudly.

"Well now that we both know where we stand would you like to order in we could get your favorite?"

"You know what my favorite food is?" he tilting his head down to yours with a knowing grin taking a deep breath he started listing off a few of you favorite's.

"Of course I do, Chinese is your top sweet and sour chicken chow mein and hors d'oeuvres namely seaweed and prawn toast and Japanese is a close second wagamama's if I remember correctly , your favorite chocolate is Lindor and favorite drink of all time is apple juice" you gaped at him, he had remembered all that.

"Wow I'm impressed you listened to my nervous rambling let alone took anything from it" "I love listening to you, you get so passionate about everything you love its cute..Hard not to pay attention...what do you mean nervous?" you felt all giddy when you realized he had been paying attention as you rambled on about what you thought was random uninteresting things.

"Well I'm always a little nervous around you...I do have a crush on you." he chuckled pulling you closer pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

"That makes two of us, any way Chinese? My treat?" you jumped up nodding at him definitely up for some take out.

"Absolutely! but I warn you I can eat...Like I EAT." he chuckled moving down to give you one more kiss then pulled away from you to grab his phone to order online.

"And we can watch Netflix" you faltered and smiled up at him impishly causing him to raise a brow.

"I-I err don't have Netflix..." he gaped at you blinking as if you had a second head

"What? how could you not- you worked for them..Have you even watched the witcher yet babe?" you flushed at the pet name...And the embarrassing truth of why you'd avoided watching the show.

"W-Well you see that err...No I haven't...Kind of avoided it to be honest.." he frowned at you, you were so excited about seeing it yet you had...Avoided it?

"Why?" you squirmed under his gaze, the blues peering down you could feel them seeing through you.

"W-Well I...It was hard I really really liked you and then you just stopped talking to me...I was upset and each time I saw you it made me worse...Like I’d been punched in the chest there was no way I was gonna get through episode one with out getting really upset so I didn't watch it..." he swore dropping his phone to the table and wrapped his arms around you tight

"Shit...I'm so so sorry love...I promise not to do that to you again! come here... I've got Netflix I will give you my log in and you can watch it ....Not when I'm around tho not too keen on watching myself much" you grinned at him as he rocked slowly with you

"Okay then deal..Is watching yourself on tv like re-watching old family videos then i take it?" he laughed pulling away nodding

"Yes almost...Maybe not as cringe tho...Now come on go get the tv on I will be in there in a second just need to order this then we can get settled and pick a film" you smiled leaving him with a quick peck then ran down the hall to the sitting room barely containing yourself as it sunk in that he liked you back and this might just be the relationship of a lifetime.

#henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x ofc #witcher geralt #witcher imagine

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Best Friend Things | Kol Mikaelson

Hey Lovelies, surprise, I'm back! I missed you all so much! Thank you to those special people who checked up on me faithfully! You know who you are and I hope i can repay that kindness one day! Y'all are honestly amazing!! I hope you all like this, it's more of a drabble so I am sorry for that but I needed to submit something :) All the best loves, I hope to see you soon again!

Description: Honestly just a Drabble about Y/n and Kol becoming best friends with a small storyline about him protecting her from a bad home life, nothing too bad, sorry for the weak description LOL

Pairing: Kol Mikaelson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of abuse, hospital, completely SFW though (unfortunately)

Word count: 3526

Tags: FLUFF, a lil angst but not much SO MUCH FLUFF

(Pics aren't mine but the mood board is <3)

You don’t know how you and Kol became best friends, it sort of just happened. You were in high school when you first met him. He was a year above you, the senior to your junior. Not to mention the captain of the football team. He was everything you weren’t. Popular, athletic, known. You were just a shy girl with a paintbrush who flinched a little too much. The first time he spoke to you, you almost fainted.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead, refusing to move from the autumn heat until your sketches are finished. It’s the first week of school and the football team has been practicing every afternoon. It’s perfect for life drawing. Jogging, stretching, catching, tackling. It’s the best practice, especially if you plan on getting into school and as far away from Louisiana as possible.

Your hands tremble, the charcoal between your fingers stuttering over the page. You sigh, ready to rip the page out and start over.

“No, keep it, love,” your hand jerks again, along with the rest of your body, at the unfamiliar voice, “I like the way it looks. It’s unique.”

His accent is thick and enchanting, pulling your eyes from the drawing to the boy standing above you. Kol Mikaelson. Your eyes widen and your breath catches in your throat. Your cheeks flush but it’s thankfully hidden with the summer sun. He’s not looking at you, anyway, his eyes glued to your sketch pad. It's filled with football players which wasn’t weird until now.

You run a still shaking hand through your hair, pushing it out of your sticky face, “I, ah, thank you. I think.”

You pull the sleeves of your jacket further down your arms, trying to hide the tremors. His eyes are now on you, skimming over your curled form. You can feel his eyes land on your face but you don’t meet them with your own. Your heart picks up when he sits down next to you, staying a couple feet away, but still pretty close. You sit as still as you can, trying desperately not to fidget. For a guy who’s been running in the heat for a couple hours he still smells really good. Like pine trees and liquorice. Who even smells like that?

“Aren’t you warm in that hoodie?” His question seems harmless but it makes you freeze up even more.

You look over your shoulder, spotting a familiar black truck in the parking lot, mumbling, “I’m fine.”

You close your sketchbook, tucking it into your tote bag along with your pencils and charcoal. You stand up, stretching your legs slightly, stiff from sitting on the grass for the past two hours. You can feel the indents in your legs and know for certain there are green stains on your bottom. You don’t check though, not with Kol next to you. You go to walk away but a hand on your shoulder stops you.

The breath leaves your lungs as he presses unknowingly on a bite carefully tucked under your shirt, “are you sure, love?”

It’s all you can do to not look at the truck again, staring at the ground, doing your best not to wince at his fingers, “I, uh, yeah. It’s fine.”

“It’s fine?” His finger draws your chin up to look into his eyes, which are delightfully carmel and burning with questions.

“I mean I’m fine.”

You can’t tell if you're trying to convince Kol or yourself. Both, maybe. It doesn’t matter though. You don’t plan on ever speaking to him again. You pull your face from his grasp, stifling another groan when you haul your tote bag onto your shoulder, heading towards the parking lot. You already know your step dad is in that truck, tapping his hand impatiently on the steering wheel, watching your every move. You can feel Kol’s eyes like laser beams on your back.

“See you tomorrow then, love?”

You don’t answer, you just keep walking.

The second time you saw him, he didn't let you go as easily. A week had passed from your first encounter on the football team. You hadn’t realized yet but he had followed you home that night. He knew something was wrong, he saw every flinch, heard every breath. Call it intuition. Call it being a vampire. Call it whatever you want, that was just Kol. And with Kol comes his frustrating tendency to never let things go. He had seen it all, and he was furious.

You reach up, standing on your tiptoes to get your books from the top shelf of your locker, wincing at the action. When you had put your things there for the weekend, you hadn't expected to walk into school the following Monday with bruised ribs. Your stomach pulses with pain, the kind that’s white hot and makes you want to throw up. You have to roll back onto the balls of your feet to avoid collapsing. Crap.

You stare at the books longingly, knowing you only have a few minutes until first period starts. It will only take a second to grab them, right? You can do it. You’ll be fine. You have to be fine. It’s fine.

You reach up again, your shirt lifting with your movements. When the breeze that accompanies the busy hallway skims your back, the wind is knocked from your lungs. It feels like someone kicked you all over again. You power through it though. You need those books. They’re just a little further. The more you move your arms, the more your shirt raises. There's more wind, followed by the same burning sensation. You’re going to throw up.

You fall back on flat feet again, bumping into something hard. Probably another locker. The locker’s hands grip the bottom of your shirt. Definately not a locker. You spin around so fast you can’t help the groan that slips out, your back screaming at you from all the activity. You feel tears threatening to spill. Everything hurts.

You’re greeted by none other than Kol Mikaelson, whose eyes are still, glued to a spot just in front of you. The spot where your back had just been. His hands are still balled into fists, like he’s still holding your shirt. He looks confused. No, scratch that, he looks angry. When he finally looks at you his eyes are pitch black. You take a step back out of instinct, the cold metal of your locker searing into your back through the thin fabric of your tee.

“I, ah, Kol,” your eyes dart around the hallway, checking to see if anyone else was watching, only to find it completely empty, “what’s, uh, what’s up?”

He cuts right to the chase, “what’s on your back?”

Your eyes widen automatically at his question. He can’t know. Right? No of course not. Unless he saw. But there's no way. He moves closer to you, his arm landing right beside your head with a slight bang. You flinch. He’s caging you in slightly, sending your heart into overdrive. Your lungs constrict. His eyes are burning into yours. He’s pissed and you’re not sure why. You can’t breathe.

“What do you mean?” Of course you dodge the question, that’s what you’re supposed to do.

He runs his other hand through his hair, tugging at the roots, “love, don’t play games with me you will not win.”

Your mouth goes dry, your voice is too quiet, “what do you want from me?”

He closes his eyes, squeezing the fist that’s still beside your head. You’re not sure what to do. You could run but you would probably only get a few feet before he’d catch you. Would he catch you? Would he even run after you? No, he doesn’t care. Then again, he’s here. He’s pushing you for something. You’re not sure if you’re ready to find out what.

When he opens his eyes again he looks directly into yours, his pupils dilating, “I want you to show me your back. Now, love.”

“I’m going to show you my back,” you know you’re the one speaking but it’s almost like you’re listening to a recording of yourself.

It feels like your body turns on its own accord, one minute you're facing him and the next you're staring at the locker, in a trance. You don’t remember wanting to lift your shirt up but you do it anyway, exposing your back to Kol Mikaelson. You feel the tears start to fall. You want to run, now, not just debate running, but you can’t, you’re stuck. It’s like your feet are glue to the floor.

“Fucking hell,” Kols words are strangled, “what are they doing to you.”

He touches your back lightly, no doubt skimming the blackened marks on your rib cage. His fingers sting and you can’t help but hiss. You lean away from his touch still holding your shirt in place. You can feel yourself trembling but you start to space out.

Kol’s finger tilts your head to meet his eyes once more, “you can put your shirt back, love. Thank you.”

With those simple words you pull your shirt down, whipping around to face him. You look like a deer caught in headlights, waiting for an impact. Time feels frozen still. Kol reaches to touch your face, his eyes fading back to their usual cola colour. Time unfreezes. And you run like hell.

After that day you had started to see Kol more and more. Staring at you from across the cafeteria, shooting pool in town at the local pub, jogging on the sidewalk in your neighbourhood. Wherever you were, there he was. Seeing him became a normal part of your day but you never spoke to him, not after that day at your locker. You wouldn’t talk to him for another three weeks after that day.

When you open your eyes it’s to the sound of machines beeping. There’s a sanitary tinge of bleach and lemons in the air. Your bed is stiff, the room dim. Your arm burns with a kind of deep itch you’ve never felt before. When you go to scratch it, you find a tube and a needle at the source. That’s when it hits you, you’re at the hospital.

Your heartbeat picks up, the machine beeping faster with it. A lady dressed in scrubs sprints into your room but before she can touch you there’s a hand on your face and then one on your neck, against your pulse point. When you look up you’re greeted by someone that you’re not actually that surprised to see; Kol Mikaelson.

“Kol, what-,” you want to continue talking but your throat burns, like you’re swallowing glass with every syllable.

You end up coughing up a storm, something the nurse must have anticipated because she hands you a glass of water. Her hair is a pretty chestnut colour, pulled into a long ponytail. She has a warm smile on her face.

She picks up the chart at the end of your bed, looking at it while she speaks, “you’re going to want to go easy on that throat for a while, sugar plum. You had quite the little accident. You should feel lucky your boyfriend here found you when he did or you would be in a much worse condition.”

Her voice is like honey, slow and sweet. Every word she says brings you closer to calming down. Until she says boyfriend. As soon as she says that word the heart monitor goes wild. He is not your boyfriend. Yes, he is cute, more so than the average boy. Alright Kol is gorgeous, but that’s not the point. Why does she think Kol is your boyfriend?

You look to Kol for the first time since meeting him for help, hoping he can understand your confused expression.

He nods and looks at the nurse with a smile on his face that doesn't quite reach his eyes, “Sarah, darling, do you mind giving us a moment? I think she needs a second to catch her breath.”

She looks like she’s about to protest but he leans a fraction closer and she smiles back, walking out of the room without another word. Your chest falls for a moment when he calls her darling and you’re not sure why. Kol means nothing to you. Well, that’s not true. You’ve grown fond of seeing him around, but it’s nothing that would warrant being jealous, if that’s what this is.

When she closes the door, Kol turns back to you. That’s when you notice his eyes, and the deep purple circles underneath then. Your breath catches in your sore throat. How long has he been here? How long have you been here?

What happened? The heart monitor starts it’s assault on your ears again.

“Love, listen to me,” he pulls the chair he must have been sitting in next to your bed, “if you want me to tell you what happened then you’re going to have to calm down, alright?”

“Ok,” you whisper back, trying to push past the fire in your lungs.

He picks your hand up with his own and you don’t protest, letting yourself be comfortable with this small touch. There’s a small smile on his face when you glance up at him. He rubs small circles near your wrist, avoiding the IV taped on the back of your hand. He looks lost in thought, his carmel eyes somewhere far away.

“Kol,” his name feels funny in your mouth, like you’re not worthy of it, “please talk.”

Just those few words are torture, something that desn’t go unnoticed by him, “shhhh, don’t talk, ok? I’ll explain everything. But I need to ask you something, and you need to tell me the truth. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth. Please, love.”

It takes everything in you to keep your heart from spiking. You could lie and say you have absolutely no idea what he wants to ask you but that’s a lie. You’re too tired to lie, too tired to hide, and much too tired to run. You just sigh and nod, letting him have his way.

“Do you know that your step-dad is a vampire?”

Oh. So that’s what he chose. That wouldn’t have been your question, but you let him have it. The short answer is yes. Yes, you do know that your step-dad is a vampire. You had figured it out pretty quickly the first time he cornered you in the kitchen after moving in and sunk his teeth into your neck. The longer answer, to a harder question, is no, your mother doesn’t know. And it has to stay that way.

Instead of saying that, though, you just nod your head. Kol’s hand tightens around yours. You don’t miss the way he sighs. He doesn't sound sad though, instead there’s relief on his face. You give him a pleading look.

“Well, love, it seems like your step-dad had been trying to kill you. I’m not sure exactly how or why. Well, that’s a lie actually. I know how. He was draining you of blood. I do not know why though. Why he would want to hurt you.”

The heart monitor picks up yet again and Kol gives you a funny look that you smile softly at. His eyes widen when he sees it, a small smile spreading over his face as well. The heart monitor slows easily.

“I’m just glad I was jogging when he attacked you. I heard you scream. I'm sorry, I kind of broke your door,” he gives you a shy grin, like that's what matters right now, “when I got to you I thought you were dead. There was so much blood, love. I don’t know where your step-dad went. I just wanted to get you here.”

Your cheeks warm at his words. He was the one who brought you here, the one who found you on the brink of death. He must think you’re such a handful. You bite your lip, looking up at him. You hold back tears, ones you didn't know were welling up in your eyes, and breathe deeply. Of course he notices them.

He draws your hand closer to him as Sarah walks back into the room, “what’s wrong love?”

He brings your hand to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles. Your mouth falls open. The heart monitor starts screaming.

He looks around the room and then at Sarah, his eyes fiery and his tone demanding, “what the hell is going on?”

Sarah only smiles, shaking her head lightly, “her heart skipped a beat, hun.”

From that moment the two of you were inseparable. You weren't fully comfortable with him yet but that didn't bother him. Well, not often at least. Sometimes when you flinched, though, his heart squeezed a little bit more than it should have. He knew it wasn't him that you were scared of. That it would just take time. You didn’t know it then, but that was one thing that Kol had plenty of; time.

The glass is icy in your fingertips but the contents make it all worth it. You barely suppress a moan at the strawberry goodness slipping down your throat. You don’t notice the way Kol’s eyes darken from across the booth.

“How is it that you’ve never had a strawberry milkshake?”

The two of you are sat in a diner that’s not special to either of you. It’s just another burger joint. The booths are apple red and faded but comfortable. Music trickles from a retro looking jukebox in the corner. Waitresses flow by in pastel uniforms. It's just the right amount of busy. Kol picked well.

Your eyes close as you take another sip, revelling in the sweetness, “I don’t get to go out that much, what can I say?”

You open your eyes to a stone faced Kol, his shoulders tight and his jaw clenched. There’s a heaviness to the atmosphere but that’s nothing new. Since the hospital you’ve both silently agreed to ignore it. Maybe that’s not the best plan but the first time he tried to talk with you about it you shut down. Not own your own accord, you wanted to tell Kol about it, you just couldn't. It was like you lips were sealed shut. Kol had left it after that.

“Well, then, I guess it’s up to me to show you the ropes then, love,” he leans his face in close to yours, his woodsy scent fogging your mind and lighting your body on fire.

You close your eyes once more, breathing in as much of the dark haired boy as you can. When you re-open them you catch Kol sneaking a sip from your milkshake. His glass now empty and pushed to the side.

You slap his arm gently, gasping with mock anger, “that’s not nice!”

He laughs abruptly, some of the strawberry shake landing on his lips instead of in his mouth. Without thinking you reach a hand to his face, wiping the melted liquid off his buttery soft lip. His chocolate eyes lock on yours, his pupils blown wider than you’ve ever seen. Your heart pounds so loudly in your chest you’re almost certain he can hear it. But that’s impossible, right?

It only takes a few seconds for your brain to catch up with your actions at which your cheeks flush on cue. You go to pull your hand back but he grabs it before you can, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist. He draws your fingers, the ones coated in syrup and ice cream, to his mouth. His tongue swirls around them and you have to bite back a moan. You can honestly say that nothing has ever felt as exquisite as Kol’s mouth. Not that you have much experience with it. You can’t deny that you wish you had more.

“Kol,” your voice is barely there and breathy, “what are you doing?”

His eyes never leave your own, piercing you as he continues to lazily lick off the ice cream that, in all honestly, is definitely gone by now. A foreign kind of heat pools in the pit of your stomach when he gently bites down on your fingertips. You can’t stop the sigh that falls from your lips. Your whole body is singing from such a simple touch.

He takes his time pulling your hand from his mouth, releasing your digits with a pop, “only making sure you aren’t sticky, love. We wouldn't want that, now would we?”

He doesn't return your hand to his mouth but he doesn't let go of it either. He just laces his fingers through yours in the middle of the table, your heartbeat still echoing through the diner.

When you look across the table again your heart flutters. You see a popular, football star, a fierce protector, one of the most caring people you've ever met. When you look across the table you see your best friend.

And maybe more but that’s for another day and another diner.

#the originals #the vampire diaries #tvd #to #kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson x reader #Kol Mikaelson Imagine #The Originals Imagine #The Vampire Diaries Imagine

[littleoddwriter]

Hurt | Roman Sionis x Male!Reader

This is a purely self-indulgent (and kinda vent-y) Hurt/Comfort fic with my fave comic book Roman version (Red Hood and the Outlaws Rebirth). If anyone should end up reading this, I do hope you enjoy this! Also, uh, reader has BPD in this and the TW’s should say it all, so be cautious when reading, please!

summary; Red Hood makes a snide remark that leaves you overwhelmed with negative emotions. Roman ends up comforting you, after Red Hood inquires about your relationship with him. 

notes; TW // BPD episodes; Intrusive Thoughts; Self-Harm (implicit; punching oneself; also attempted self-harm); Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Blackmailing, and a non-con relationship (FALSE accusations); Red Hood handles reader a little roughly at one point; Daddy!Kink. Male!Reader; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Hugs; Sitting on one’s lap.

"Look, Roman, I don't mind your whole BDSM theme you've got going on. It fits you. But this seems to go a little far, even for you. I mean, this is breakfast, right?" Red Hood said, ever sounding so dry and sarcastic, sitting at the other end of the table opposite from you and Roman. You lowered your head in shame, as your face burned with it, your heart clenched painfully and your hands balled into fists, bunching the fabric of your pants, as you started trembling. Roman's arm tightened around your middle. You sat on his lap, as he fed you forks full of food alternating between you and himself. Having woken up feeling bad, this was routine for such mornings. It grounded you, made you feel a little calmer and had you feeling less like you wanted to rip your own skin off. "I'm sorry. I'm embarrassing you," you whispered quietly, so only Roman could hear it. He squeezed you where he held you around your waist and spoke just as quietly, "Not at all, sweetheart." Black Mask encouraged you to lean back into him with a nudge. Your back rested against his chest and stomach, as your head was supported by his shoulder. Turning your head to the side, your nose pressed against his neck. The smell of his leather mask and perfume all too familiar and soothing to you. You inhaled, a quiet and content sigh left your lips, as you relaxed a little. "Now, now, Red. I don't see why this should be any of your business, hm? This is my home after all. I own everything and everyone in here. Therefore I can do as I please, wouldn't you agree?" Roman said finally, tilting his head a little, looking as inquiring as he sounded. "Sure, sure. Still, it's just... weird. No offense." A dry chuckle left Black Mask's mouth as he shook his head slightly and tightened his grip around you, sure to leave a bruise by now. That was that then. You knew Roman had plans for Red Hood, so he probably held himself back here because of it. Usually he would have shot the person uttering such things as soon as those words had left their mouth. You were glad he hasn't done it this time, as you didn't fancy having someone's blood on your hands. After a couple of minutes of charged silence, in which the three of you finished eating your breakfast, Roman squeezed your waist once more. You lifted your head and sat up properly. "I need to talk some business with Red, here. You can go and do whatever you like, as always, alright, baby?" You nodded and gave a quick, uncertain glance over to Red Hood before turning your head and leaning into Roman. Then you pressed your lips against the cold metal zipper of his mask, which he's closed back up seconds before. Black Mask hummed approvingly in the back of his throat and nudged his masked face against yours in mock of a kiss back. Then you leaned back again and slid off his lap. You waved good-bye and then left the room. As soon as you were alone, the crushing feelings from before came back in a rush. The shame, the guilt, the anxiety, the anger. It was so much. Too much. Promptly, you started trembling again. Your skin felt tight, you wanted to rip it off, scream, cry and disappear. You had embarrassed Roman. Red Hood probably couldn't take him seriously because of you. Just because you're so fucking pathetic that you needed to be sat on his lap and be fed. Fuck! Intrusive thoughts of hurting yourself came over you, such as the urge; and fuck, it was so strong. It hasn't been this strong in at least two weeks. A long time for you. You didn't want to do it, though. You didn't want to give in. Walking around the penthouse and trying to find something to do that would take your mind off things, the urge only became stronger. It loomed over you, suffocated you. It was so tempting. You just wanted to get rid of those feelings. You just wanted them gone so badly. Various images of how you could do it popped up, your mind's eye forced to take them in. It was an itch you desperately tried not to scratch. After an hour of having done skills and tried to get rid of the feelings through some exercise and such, you were still trembling with the urge and overwhelming tightness of the suffocating emotions. You figured that perhaps Roman was done with talking by then, so you went back to the dining room where you have left him. "Hey, Luke, is Roman still busy talking in there?" You asked one of the masked goons standing outside the door. Your voice sounded tight, restrained, and yet so very dull. All those emotions that still tried to claw their way out of you were held back by you by sheer force. "Yeah, he is. What d'ya need him for? I'm sure the boss doesn't mind if ya interrupt him if it's important." "Fuck," you muttered. "No, no thank you. I really don't wanna interrupt him," you then said louder, so Luke could hear you. He nodded and you turned to go back to your room. A while later, you were sitting in the hallway that housed Roman's family portrait. You sat on the floor in front of it, a sketch book in your lap and a pencil and eraser in your hands. Your ears twitched when an unfamiliar footfall came closer to you. When you looked up, you saw it was Red Hood. Immediately panic gripped on to your heart, squeezing it tightly, and surrounded your lungs, making it hard to breathe. Red Hood was looking from side to side before crouching down in front of you. "What are you doing here?" He asked, confusing you. "Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" "No, I meant here, as in, with Black Mask. Is he forcing you? Blackmailing you? Look, if he's got something on you, I can help you." Your face twisted with both confusion and anger. The panic hasn't subsided, but it made a little way for anger and hurt. "Excuse me? Do you- Who do you think you are? Why do you think you have any place to make such horrendous assumptions?" "He's a bad man and you know it. I'm sure you're not unaware to his 'business', right? It's not too far-fetched that he might have gotten a little too lonely and... y'know?" "What the fuck? Listen, Red, I don't give a fuck who you are or who you aren't. I don't give a fuck that you clearly don't know shit about what you're saying, so just leave me alone, will you?" Instead of leaving you alone, he gripped your arm and pulled it towards himself. "I'm not stupid, I've seen the bruises on you-" You snapped. "Shut up! Shut the fuck up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! You don't know anything! Shut the fuck up!" You shouted, pulling your arm free from him, as he loosened his grip in surprise. Your vision was blurry and red, tears burned your eyes, you were in so much pain all over again. You had just managed to get rid of it. Not without visible bruises on your arms. The bruises Red Hood mistook for abuse marks from Black Mask. It made you feel sick. You took the pencil from the ground where it had fallen onto, after you had jumped up when you had pulled your arm free. Close to stabbing it in your arm, someone embraced you from behind, one arm went around your waist and held you tightly against their chest, pressing their body against your back; and gripped tightly on to your wrist of which hand you held the pencil with. The soothing and familiar smell of leather and his perfume hit you. Roman. You trembled with the panic, the overwhelming emotions and the urge to follow through with what you've almost had just a moment ago. "Ssshhhh, sweetheart, ssshhh," Roman cooed, shushing you quietly. A whimper left your lips as you let go of the pencil. The noise it made when it hit the floor was crushingly loud in your ears.   "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you repeated over and over again, whimpering and sniveling. Roman continued to shush you quietly, lowered your arm to your side and turned you around, so you could bury your face in the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around you tightly and stroked over your back soothingly. "Leave now," he commanded Red Hood, whose quick footsteps you could hear fading away. "Oh, sweetheart, my darling boy. What did he say? What happened, huh?" Your sobs had died down by that point and while it took you a great amount of effort to be able to reply, you did. "He thought you were forcing me to be with you. That you were abusing me b-because of my-my bruises. I'm sorry. I've already embarrassed you at breakfast and now I did it again, I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm so sorry!" "Not at all, sweet boy. You haven't embarrassed me at all. Calm down, eh? It's alright. If anything, he was trying to get a rise out of me at breakfast. That's just how he is. I'll talk to him about this, later, hm? If I didn't have plans for him, he'd already be dead anyway." You nodded against his neck and the grip your hands had on his back tightened. As so very often, you couldn't possibly fathom why he put up with you at all, why he took his time to calm you down and reassure you. He could very well be the worst of the worst, like he was to so many other people; yet he seemed to have the patience and understanding of a Saint with you. It had your mind reeling. "Now, my sweet boy, I know you hate when I ask, but have you hurt yourself before this, today?" Roman asked eventually, his voice a gentle rumble. Once more, you nodded against his neck, inhaling sharply. "I'm sorry," you added quietly. "Why didn't you come to me, hm? I assume it was because of what happened at breakfast. Am I wrong?" "You're not, I'm sorry. I didn't want to interfere. And I didn't want to do it either, I tried not to, I promise. I did everything I could, but I just- broke." "Alright, sweetheart. It's okay. Though, am I remembering this incorrectly or have I really not told you that you could interrupt me and ask for help whenever?" "You've told me, I'm sorry, I know. I didn't want to... embarrass you any further, is all. I'm sorry, Daddy." He loosened his hold around your waist and leaned back, so he could look at you. Reluctantly, you faced him.  He let go of you with one arm completely and took ahold of your arm where you've injured yourself a few hours before. A big, blue and purplish bruise had formed already, taking up most of the space of your inner forearm. Ashamed, you averted your eyes. You should have just gotten him to help you. Then Black Mask lifted your arm to his face, as you felt the cold metal of his zipper press against the bruise. The pressure on it hurt, but it wasn't unbearable or truly painful in a way where you'd want it to stop. In actuality, the mock kiss made you feel warm inside. A small smile stole itself on your face.   You sighed as the warm leather of his mask gently pressed against your arm, as he turned his head to face you. "Will you promise me to get me the next time?" You could feel his jaw move against your arm as he talked, it tickled. "I promise," you whispered, in awe. He lowered your arm again and nudged his masked face against yours, the zipper pressing against your lips. You kissed it. Then again. And again. "I love you, Daddy. I'm really sorry about this whole mess, I didn't mean for any of this to happen." He sighed, "It's alright, sweetheart. I know you haven't done any of this on purpose." Then he let go of you entirely and bent down, picking up your sketchbook from the floor and looked it over. "You drew me," he stated, surprise clear in his voice. "Yeah, I needed to calm down after- well, you know. And I couldn't think of anything else to do, but sitting down and drawing." "And the best thing to draw was me as a child? Taking this horrendous portrait as reference no less. Although, you actually managed to make me look like a child." "Well, uh, I just thought I'd try myself on it, you know? Make it look less gloomy. Well. You. Not that I'd draw your fucking parents. They don't deserve it," you chuckled wryly by the end of it. "They really don't. It looks good, sweetheart. Will you finish it?" You looked at him in surprise, mouth a little slack. "I can try." "Good. I would like to hang it up, when you have." That surprised you even more. "Are you sure?" He just looked at you, and though his face - or rather, what was left of it - wasn't visible, you knew he was shooting you an incredulous look. "Right, okay. Sure, I will try my best, Roman!" "You always do, my boy." He gently placed the sketchbook back on the floor and put his arms around you once more. "Let's go for a walk then, eh? I feel like it might be good for you, after everything." Nodding, you smiled at him softly, leaning up to press another few kisses to the zipped up mouth of his mask. 

#tw bpd episode #tw bpd #Tw self-harm #tw self harm #tw daddy kink #tw intrusive thoughts #x male reader #x male!reader #male reader #male reader insert #roman sionis #roman sionis x male reader #roman sionis x y/n #roman sionis x you #black mask #black mask x reader #redhood and the outlaws #roman sionis fanfiction #black mask fanfiction #roman sionis imagine #black mask imagine #the upload was rushed af sorry abt some of the missing triggers before

[musictrash0426]

Killing Stalking

 My name is Elizabeth Stevens, I’m 17 and it is one month until my senior year of highschool. Most of my friends are going crazy trying to plan out their futures. However, unlike my peers, I've known what I've wanted to be since I was 13. I want to be an artist, my parents fully support my decision which is nice. They have bought me plenty of professional quality supplies since my 14th birthday when they saw all the hard work I put into my art. I've even started selling prints of my work on Redbubble. I also have quite the following 

Overall I live in a pretty good neighbourhood. It has great people, including my best friend Kai who lives a few streets over. My family and I live in a pretty large house. It has three floors which is a little big if you ask me. There are only the three of us living here, me, mom and dad. But with that being said my parents gave me the entire basement on my 13th birthday. They also helped me set up every room down here the way I want. Not much has changed, even after being down here for four years..

When you come down the stairs you are greeted with my lounge area. Where  we have a couch, tv, game system, large bookshelf and some other things. Next we have my room where I have a fairly minimal look. I have a large bed, large dresser, a walk in closet, and my vanity where I do my makeup. The next room is probably my favourite; it's my art studio. Like I said my parents have supported me over the years so I have a lot of supplies. Honestly I couldn't be more grateful for them and everything they’ve given me. I have a full easel, desk, and a lot of supplies, markers, colour pencils, paint (water, acrylic, oils), alongside my new drawing tablet.

This morning when I got up, I went to my art room and started sketching. I've gotten into this habit as it helps me get into a creative mindset, along with getting into drawing for the day. Once I stop doodling I start to make a list of the things of supplies I had recently run out of. 

As I was about to leave, I asked my parents if they needed anything. My mom told me to get her a drink from Starbucks on my way home as she knows I’m planning on going there anyways. 

I get into my car and drive to the art store. Luckily this store is only 10 minutes from my house. I walk into the store and look for the supplies on my list. While going through the store, grabbing the things I needed, I decided I also wanted to try out a new paint while I was here. I got some winsor and newton acrylics in red, blue,yellow, sienna, black and white along with some mixing pallets. I also got a canvas as I want to make a large painting later. 

My mom texted me asking if I could pick up milk and eggs. So I ran into the supermarket and picked up the few things she wanted. I then went to starbucks, got both my parents, and myself a few drinks, and went home. 

I got out of my car balancing shopping bags on my arm,the drinks in my hand and I went inside. I put the milk and eggs in the fridge, gave my parents their drinks and made my way down to my art room to put my supplies away. I started brainstorming ideas of what I want to paint and I finally came up with a concept I liked. I open my sketchbook and I start to draw the rough copy of the picture before blowing it up on the canvas and painting it. While I am drawing out the picture I'm watching lavendertowne’s creepypastas series as it's one of my favourites on youtube. 

In my concentration, I lose track of time, and before I know it it’s 4:30 pm. My mom walks to my art room saying her and dad are going on a trip for the next week. So I get the house to myself, which is cool. I've been home alone before. “Elle, you can have Kai over to stay for the week if you want.” mom said. “Also I transferred some money into your account so you and Kai can just order some food if you guys get hungry.” 

“Thanks mom,” I say “ I love you.”

“Love you too sweetie.” 

I walk upstairs with mom as her and dad are about to leave. I hug them goodbye and tell them to have a safe trip. 

I decide to take mom up with her offer and invite Kai over for the week. Lately I haven't been wanting to be home alone. So I called him and he said he’d be over in 10 minutes. 

I grab a glass of water and wait, before I knew it there was a knock on my door and it was Kai. I give him a hug and he smiles. 

“It’s like we haven't seen each other in a while.” Kai teases me. We saw each other yesterday and I called him late last night because I just wanted to talk to someone. 

Kai has literally been my best friend since we were both in diapers. Our moms grew up together so it was bound to happen that we would too. He’s my biggest support system, he’s one of the only people who know how I got into art. I watched a lot of anime growing up, I still do, and the art style is what got me into wanting to be an artist. 

“Have you started a new piece yet?” Kai asked 

“Yeah I have! And I just finished the rough copy” I say.

“Can I watch you work on it?” 

“Of course you can silly,” I say with a grin. I show Kai the canvas to let him gauge what I’ve been working on. 

“It looks really good!” But his face saddens a little bit. “Are you doing alright?” I give him a confused look. “You tend to draw horror pieces when you're trying to get yourself into a better place.” 

Horror pieces are my favourite to draw. I don't have an explanation for it, but I've always liked them. Maybe it's because I loved horror shows growing up but who knows. I look back at all my works and Kai’s right. I tend to do these pictures more when I'm not the best headspace. 

“You really know me, at this point it's mostly subconscious” I laugh “I was also watching creepypasta videos so the idea could have come from that. Anyways, what do you think about it so far?” 

“I love it of course!” Kai says

I work on transferring it onto the canvas and after about 2 hours the pencil sketch is laid out. Once that's done we decide to go to the movies. We went and saw whatever Kai wanted to see. He picked some rom com which I wasn't mad at as I enjoy these types of movies. 

After the movie we went to a sushi place for dinner. I wasn't that hungry so I got the rest of mine to go. Then we went to the supermarket to get some candy and pop for tonight. We decided that we were going to stay up quite a bit of the night so I can work on my artwork and we can just talk about life and stuff. We pull into the parking lot and head inside. This store is open 24/7 so we have plenty of time to get our stuff, but still it is 11:30pm and something makes the air feel very eerie tonight. 

After walking around the store Kai and I look at eachother and we both feel like something is off because this uneasy feeling Kai and I hurry up and grab what we wanted. Kai and I decided to pick up Sour Patch Kids, gummy bears and some chips. We then went into the drink aisle where I picked out Dr. Pepper, and ginger ale. Kai picked out diet Pepsi and cream soda. We picked out the four flavours that we both love. We then decided to get a tub of cotton candy ice cream. As we were turning there was this lady who crashed her cart into ours as we were on our way to check out. I looked up and noticed that it was the same lady that had been in each aisle with us, which honestly didn’t make any sense as we just went to the isles we needed. 

We check out of the store and head back to the car. After putting everything in the trunk of the car, I look up and see the same woman still there. What the fuck?

“Hey Kai, can you take the cart back please?” He nods and I get into the car and lock it. 

I hear a knock that startles me and I look up. It was just Kai. I unlocked the door and he got in. “Wanna tell me why you had the door locked Elle?”

I look over and the woman gets into the car next to us oh great my horror brain made something out of nothing. She was also probably having a movie night with some of her friends.

“It’s nothing Kai, I think I’m just psyching myself out.”

“Okay.” With that we drove back to my place right in the nic of time too as it just started to rain. We shut off all the lights and lock the doors and windows upstairs. We head back down to my studio and I set up everything to begin painting.

I wanted something in the background while I was working so I put on Another. Kai and I have already watched it a few times but we didn’t want to start something new since I wouldn't be able to give it my full attention. Also it's a horror anime so it will put me in the mood for my painting.

I looked down at the outline I drew; it was a girl who had gone psychotic and had a knife in her hand. My plan is to add blood to her once the painting is completely dry, but first I start by painting the eyes. When they are finished they look very dead and already mentally gone inside. I take a break and lay my head on Kai’s shoulder.

“Tired?” he asks me.

“No, I just wanted a break.” We continue watching the anime after two more episodes. There was a bang of thunder and a flash of lightning, I looked out the small window and saw what looked to be a figure of a woman. I looked back to get a better look but she's gone. I must just be seeing things.

I brush it off then get back to my painting. About an hour later I finish painting the skin and I see another flash out of the corner of my eye. I think to myself how odd that is  because there was no thunder. I brushed it off as the volume of the show probably just covered the sound. I decided to be done with painting for the night, so we moved out into the lounge area and continued watching Another. There was another flash and in the window we saw her. The woman from the supermarket was in my window.We were going to call the cops then with another flash she's gone.

We decided we couldn't take anymore horror tonight so we put on Ouran Highschool Host Club a few hours later we were on the episode where a character named Tamaki was trying to figure out his friend Haruhi’s biggest fear. When we see a flash of lightning in the episode, it also flashes here, and we see her silhouette again and she vanishes with the lightning once more. 

Creeped out we went to my room and lay in bed, I cuddled into Kai because honestly I was shaking and needed comfort.

In the morning Kai and I woke up to banging on the door. I checked the time and it was 8:30 am. We got up and checked no one was there, but there was an envelope that said Elizabeth Steevens and Kai Kalua I brought it inside.

“Ummmm Kai?”

“Yeah?”

I turn the envelope to show him. We were both scared and didn't know what to do. We opened it and there were at least 40 photos of us, starting from when we were coming out of the movie. There were photos of us at the sushi restaurant, the grocery store, and the worst ones of all the ones that were taken looking into my house. Ones of us in my art room, in the lounge, and ones of us asleep in my bed.

Panicked, I call the police and they tell us to come down to the station. Since neither of us knew the woman's name they said there was nothing they could really do for us except to have us tell them if something else happens. Some help they were, I thought.

Kai and I went back to my studio and I continued working on the piece. This time our show of choice was Miria Nikki. As I was painting the hair I saw another flash and considering what happened last night we decided to go to my parents office and check the security cameras and lo and behold she's there on the property.

“Kai whats that in her hand?”

“I don’t know,”

I looked closer and saw that it was a knife. We once again called the police and this time they came, but hearing a car must have scared her. They came inside and asked to watch the cameras with us. Only this time she was at the back door that's connected to the kitchen and of course I happened to leave it unlocked…

“Oh Elizabeth, Kai, come out come out wherever you are..” The woman sang out menacingly. Her voice rang through the house loudly causing me to look to one of the officers for advice

He nods for Kai and I walk out.

“There you two are,”

“Do we know you?” I ask, genuinely confused as to who this woman is.

“Yeah I don't know who you are either.” Kai said just as confused.

“I'm Chloe. I am in your art class.” She says.

We were both confused; we don’t remember having ever seen her before. Our art class had six people in it, us two, three other of our friends and some weird girl who doesn't talk to anybody.

“... you’re the weird girl in our class aren’t you?” Kai questions.

“What did you call me?” She asked with a defensive tone.

“What did you expect him to say, you literally refuse to talk to us. Then whenever the teacher praises my work, you get angry. Besides who goes around taking pictures of people in their own house! That is fucking creepy.” I say

“I get angry because you always get the spotlight! Give someone else a turn.”

“Elle gets the attention because she actually shows her artwork, you just sit in the back of the class and do nothing. If you want attention why ignore us when we try talking to you? What is your problem? And why do you have a knife?” You can tell Kai is starting to lose patience with the situation, as his questions get increasingly aggressive.

“So I can get rid of my competition,” she smiles sweetly.

“What competition? There is no competition Chloe” I ask 

“What competition? I have liked Kai forever!” Chloe says frustrated, slightly getting closer to the two of them with the knife.

Kai puts one hand out towards her, while using the other to pull me back with him a couple steps, creating distance between her and I before he speaks again.“I will never like you. Besides there is only one person I like, and hate to break it to sweetheart but it's not you.” This makes me curious who Kai was referring to.

“Then who is it then?” she asks angrily

That's when Kai kissed me. I kissed him back, albeit slightly flustered. This caused Chloe to become enraged, she came towards us with the knife and that's when the cops came out and told her to put the knife down. She complied and dropped the knife as she didn’t realize that the police were here. 

One of the two cops took her away as the other came and told us they were going to hold her and do a mental assessment on her. He also checked to see if Kai and I were okay. After we tell him we are he also leaves, leaving Kai and I alone to deal with this new revelation.

“Do you actually like me? Or were you just saying that to get her to stop…” anxious about the answer since I have liked Kai for a while, but didn't want to make things awkward with him.

“Elle I have liked you for a while but I didn't want to lose you.” Kai says as he pulls me closer to him.

I don't know how to respond, all my mind was telling me was ‘kiss him’. I pull him in by his shoulders to another kiss, quickly dispelling doubts either of us had. Kai placed his hands on my waist and melted into it. He pulls away and leans his forehead against mine, just holding me. For the first time in a few days I felt safe.

“Kai?” I ask in a quiet tone almost a whisper.

“Yeah sweetheart?” 

“Can you stay while my parents are gone?” I don’t feel safe enough to be home alone, and you wanted to stay in the comfort that he gave you.

“Of course I can angel.”

#anime #alone #creepy #artist #high school #home alone #horror #oneshot #senior #stalker

[hardsquare]

Every wave of the storm

In the beginning, Steve had no one — the world around him was his own, quiet, barbaric nightmare. And then, Steve had Bucky. And things started to change; Steve learned to blossom.

wc ~ 3k.

[READ ON AO3]

4th July 2019 - 2:33 am

Steve is not good with sleeping. He doesn't really know what time it is exactly, but he knows that the night is pitch black and that the moon is high in the sky. He knows that, because he never closes his curtains. Not completely, at least. Not that Steve is afraid of the dark, not anymore. He just loves to stare at the empty nothing during his sleepless nights. And he’s okay with that, really. He made peace with his incapability to have a healthy sleep schedule a long time ago.

When he can’t sleep, like tonight - and a lot of other nights, let’s be honest -, he takes time to analyze everything that’s around him. The bed, the soft comforter around him, the paintings  - his paintings- on the walls. The bottle of water on his nightstand, the record player on the corner of the room with the Led Zeppelin vinyl still on it - he can’t help himself, he physically has to listen to ‘ I can’t quit you baby’ at least 4 times a day or he’s not in his right state of mind.

Anyway, the room is still the same in the middle of the night than it is at 3pm, or even 9pm for that matter. There is still something  different about the darkness of his apartment. The shapes on the wall in front of the bed, more like shadows actually. Steve used to be so afraid of them. Especially at night, just like this. Now he just embraces it. He tells himself entire stories about the strange silhouettes in the obscurity, as if it’s now his own little garden of Eden.

While observing this weird dance in front of him, Steve allows himself to drift into his memories, when he was still afraid of the dark.

4th July, 2002

It’s a sunny and beautiful day, and most of all: it’s Steve’s 8th birthday. He’s just finished eating his lunch with his mother; she made a chocolate cake for him and Steve just feels happy, because he knows his mom doesn’t have much money for this. Yet, every year she never fails to cook a homemade chocolate birthday cake. Steve loves his mom so much.

“Don’t forget to make a wish, honey,” Sarah says, just after humming the happy birthday song to his son. Steve closes his eyes, and thinks about what he could wish for. Maybe more money so his Ma could be home with him more? Maybe a shiny new bike? What about a healthy year, for a change? He squints his eyes even more and wishes, he wishes so hard that this year, maybe, he won’t feel as lonely as the previous ones. With that thought in mind, he blows his eight candles in one go.

When Steve arrives at the playground, his fingers are wrapped tight around the cake’s leftovers he brought with him. He originally wanted to share it with the kids here. They are children from his apartment building and they are all about his age.  His mom always asks why he’s not hanging out more with them, and he never wants to say that he tried , they just don’t want him . But Steve thinks maybe today is the day. So he walks, confident, and introduces himself again. “Hey guys, it’s my birthday today! Do y’all want some cake? It’s chocolate !”

There’s a big blank as the kids just turn over to Steve and look at him from head to toes, like he’s some kind of alien or such. Steve can actually see them laugh at him, talking among themselves and pointing fingers. But all Steve can hear is a mess of confusion. “Hah, guys, Rogers is at it again with his stupid cake, like we’re gonna want to hang out with you, you stupid freak.”

And they all laugh, again. Steve turns around, holding his tears, dropping the cake on the ground. He runs back to his house and goes straight to his bedroom to unload the tears. Steve has always been an unhealthy child, as you could say. He has asthma, arrhythmia, and weak muscles. He always has clutches or a cast on any of his limbs.

And he can’t hear. Not well at least. And Steve can’t remember a time when he was able to listen, really listen , to a conversation between him and more than two people at once.

People never try to help him with that. Not the other kids, not the doctors, not even the teachers. Beside his mom, he has always been alone. He knew from the beginning he needed to be fixed, he just didn’t know how . Sarah has the decency to give him some time before she’s knocking softly at his door.

“Honey, baby. What’s wrong ?”

She helps herself in the little boy’s bedroom and sits carefully on the edge of the bed.

“They all think I’m a freak” Steve sniffs, his face still in his pillow, holding his eeyore’s plushie close to his heart. Sarah looks at her son, putting her hand on the nape of his neck. After a little while, he turns around to watch her.

“And why would they think that?” “I don’t know, maybe I am.”

Steve is still crying, but the touch of her mom and her simple presence makes him feel a little bit better. “Honey, you can tell me what happened. I’m not going to be mad at you, I promise.”

Steve knows her mom is telling the truth, she always does. He sits himself on the bed, not looking at his mom’s eyes, ashamed.

“I could not hear them, mom. I can never really hear them. It’s wrong, everything is wrong with me.” He can feel the sad sigh his mother makes.

“Baby, I need you to listen to me very carefully. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re absolutely perfect the way you are. Those children don’t know how special you are, and the fact that you can’t really hear the right way does not mean you’re broken. I wish that someday you’ll be able to understand that.”

And with those words, she’s taking her son into her arms and holding him tightly against her chest.

Deep down, Steve might know his Ma is right. That he should not care about what some random stupid kids think of him.

But it still hurts. And in his little boy’s heart, he can’t stop thinking about how shattered he is.

28th August, 2005

Steve has always loved summer. He can’t really get sick, and he can spend hours under the sun drawing everything he sees around him.

He’s eleven years old now and he’s learnt to spend his time alone. Not that he wants to, it’s just easiest this way, is all. Today is a particularly gorgeous day. He is sitting on a bench in the garden attached to his block. He’s alone, except for the old lady feeding the birds, but it’s okay, Steve likes the old lady.

He can sometimes see his mom watching him from their balcony three floors above. He knows she wants to be discreet so he just smirks to himself and dives into his sketchbook a little more. Today he feels like drawing his mother. Of course there’s a lot of her in his sketches, but he adores her and he doesn’t have many more models, anyway. He decides to draw her with a big smile on her face, holding the birthday cake she always makes for him on July 4th.

Not so strangely, this memory brings a lot of mixed feelings to Steve. Happiness, sorrow, all the things Steve does not want to think about at the moment.

He is focusing on his mother’s eyes when he feels a little tap on his shoulder.

He turns around, abruptly. “What?!” “Hum, hey? I’m sorry, I called you but I’m not sure you heard me so I, hum..”

A dark haired boy about his age is standing in front of him. Steve has never seen him here and by the look on the boy’s face, he truly has no intention of mocking him. “S’okay… Do you want something?”

Steve really, really , tries to be nice with the stranger. He’s just not used to having conversations with kids his age, that’s all. The boys seem confused at first but still smile widely at Steve.

“Not really, I just wanted to introduce myself. Me and my family just moved to this building,” he points at the block Steve and his Ma lives. “My name is Bucky!”

He extends his hand to Steve, watching him like he’s the goddamn sun- or maybe he’s just facing the actual sun, that’s why. Steve shakes his hand and attempts a smile, “Nice to meet you, I’m Steve.” And with the years passing, Steve actually learns that Bucky wasn’t trying to mock him on this brightful day. And it might just have been the best day of his entire life.

18th September, 2009

It’s the third time since the beginning of the school year. Somehow, Steve always finds himself stuck in an alley with assholes insulting him, shouting at him, as if he could hear them. So he does the only thing he can think of: he fucking punches them in the face.

Unfortunately for Steve, he’s still very much skinny, he still very much can’t breathe correctly; and when the dude hits back he hits hard, and Steve falls on his ass and against the wall. “Hey Rogers, it’s just us now, can you hear me or are you just pretending like you always do?”

Ah, yes. When he was a child, the other kids were laughing at him because he could not hear them correctly. Now, they’d think he was just lying to them, like it was funny for him to constantly ask people to repeat, please; and like it’s hilarious to be hit in some random alley by the same jackass every week.

“Fuck you, shithead,” Steve mutters under his breath. He is not about to bend down in front of this prick. Yes, even if he is indeed ass on the ground right now. As he waits for the next punch to come, he closes his eyes and feels absolutely nothing .

He cocks an eyebrow and opens only one of his eyes.

And he sees Bucky, actually pulling one of the guys by the collar, looking considerably pissed . Steve doesn’t know if it’s at him, but he’s glad his friend is here, - once again. The next few minutes are a mess of words shouted that Steve doesn’t understand, punches and name callings. When the guys finally leave, Bucky is all over Steve; who is still sitting on his butt on the floor, thank you very much.

“Damn Stevie, did they hurt you ?”

So, Steve can guess that Bucky is not mad at him, and that’s good.

“Why did you have to punch them? Can’t you walk away and let them talk like the stupid fuckheads they are?!”

Okay, so maybe Bucky is a little bit pissed, actually. Steve suddenly loses it and pushes Bucky away from him, before he gets up.

“Because, Bucky. I’m tired of being insulted and treated like I’m a freak or something. I know I am, they don’t need to remind me everytime they see me. But nothing, absolutely nothing can fix this. Can fix me .”

The look on Bucky’s face stiffens. “You’re not a freak, stop saying that.”

Steve can actually see that he’s trying. He’s trying so much to make him feel better. But he can’t and Steve knows that. The struggle he feels, and the loneliness he experiences every damn seconds of his damned life, Bucky can’t do anything about this.

With tears and a heavy heart, Steve turns around and begins to walk.

“Whatever, let’s go home.”

And it kills him to turn away from Bucky, because he knows that someday, perhaps he’ll leave too.

And he’s not sure his heart can handle a life without Bucky.

23rd November, 2012.

Bucky didn’t leave. Quite the opposite, actually.

Bucky stayed and was here for every step of Steve’s difficult life.

Surgeries, medical treatment gone bad, relapses, aftermaths... Bucky was always here, taking him to the hospital, at his bedside when he woke up from anesthesias. And it honestly makes Steve’s heart fly like a freaking butterfly. He cannot really understand that already, but he likes it. Maybe more than that. But what Steve is about to do, he needs to do it alone. Without Bucky, without his mom. On his own. And with all the confidence he has in his gut, he steps inside the store for his appointment.

When they put the device onto his ears, it first feels strange. Weird. He’s so used to not being able to hear, it’s almost too much. The person in charge assures him that it’ll feel better with time, he just needs to get used to it.

As soon as Steve gets out of the store, he feels like a train is rolling towards him at full speed. What the fuck is happenning, and why is everything so damn loud, and why the hell are those people even talking about on this damn tv program, and oh god why is this woman’s voice so acute and - oh, God.

Steve has to find Bucky. He has to find him right now, because the only thing he can think of is how much he aches for Bucky’s voice. Running full speed is not a problem anymore for Steve. After his heart surgery, his stamina is almost back to normal. But it’s enough for him to run to Bucky today.

He finds him sitting on their bench, the one where they met all those years ago, the one where they always hang out when they have free time. Bucky is wrapped in his big coat and scarf, scrolling on his phone, like nothing has changed.

He sees him running to him so he puts his phone in his pocket and genuinely smiles at him.

“Hey Steve, what’s up ?”

And Steve…  Steve can’t answer.

Because Steve is now crying his heart out and sobbing like it’s his eighth birthday all over again. Because he can finally, after all this time, hear his best friend’s voice. His raspy yet chocolate coated voice that he somehow already loves with his whole being. “What? Steve? Is everything okay? I swear to God if those punks are messing with you again Imma throw hands.”

Steve can see that Bucky is, honest to god, freaking out, holding him close. But he can’t help himself and cries and cries. And when he can finally compose himself a bit, he looks at Bucky in his beautiful grey eyes, and just kisses him.

Bucky pauses for a moment, then he deepens the kiss and it’s the most perfect, messy, and actually the only kiss of Steve’s entire life. It’s short and chaste but when their lips parts, Bucky still seems confused.

“Sorry,” Steve whispers, actually not sorry at all.

“Oh God, no, don’t be,” Bucky pauses. “But I still gotta ask, what happened, Stevie?”

Steve is looking at him in the eyes, instead of at his lips like he always had to do since they met, because he had to lipread. But now, now he doesn’t have to.

And something must click in Bucky’s big brain because his eyes widens and his mouth opens like he just saw a giant bee in the middle of Steve’s forehead. “Steve, are you...?” And gently, he tucks one of Steve’s long locks behind his ear and sees. “Oh my god Steve! When?” “Today, I ran as fast as I could, I wanted to hear your voice.”

And Bucky smiles, smiles. And he never stops smiling at Steve, like he’s the goddamn sun. But this time, it’s a gloomy November greyish day and there’s no ray of sunshine in Bucky’s eyes. Just Steve.

And it might actually be the second best day of his life, he thinks.

4th July 2019 - 3:02am

Steve is back in his bedroom, watching the shadows from the outside still dancing on his wall. He’s smiling. He is now 25- it’s been roughly 3 hours, he just saw the clock -, and he’s more happy than he ever was.

He’s feeling better now. The heart surgery changed everything and he now has a very normal stamina. He can breathe, he’s not as sick as he used to be, which is great. He’s going to the gym at least four times a week and ah, he can hear his Ma’s voice from here, “Stop growing like this Steven Grant Rogers, we got it, you’re taller than all of us!” He chuckles at the fond memory.

But what’s made Steve the man he is today is everything he understood those past few years.

It’s not the physical part. That, everyone can do. He learned that he never needed the validation of other people. He only needed to find out his true self, be gentle with himself and allow himself some time to grow.

But mostly, he realized that he didn’t need to be fixed, like he thought his entire life before that, like others wanted to make him think. No matter how much people still wanted to take him down, even now.

Steve was perfect the way he was, the way he was born, and it’ll always be the case. Weak heart, or not, loose stamina, or not.

Hearing impaired, or not.

Steve feels the quilt move a little and rearranges himself on the bed, feeling a little bit tired again - it is still 3am, after all. He gazes at the other side of the bed fondly as Bucky seems deeply asleep against the pillows, drooling a little.

Steve knows he’s snoring, not that he can hear it, but he just knows it. And that’s all that matters to him.

With all those thoughts- the good, the bad, everything that makes Steve the man he is today, he wraps himself around his boyfriend’s back tightly. And it doesn’t take long for him to join Bucky in his sleep, dreaming of friendly shadowy shapes in a starry, black sky.

#stevebucky #stucky fanfic #hearing impaired Steve Rogers #friends to lovers #im scared #this is deeply personal for me because i'm also hearing impaired so be kind guys #anyway #enjoy! #this is my first fanfic ever so