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rebelsandtherest · 2 years

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Hey There, Stranger

A FrUK drabble Word count: 2020 (I swear to GOD I did not plan that) Summary: In some hopeful future, the pandemic wanes toward a final close, and an Englishman crosses the channel to visit a very old friend. Both are surprised by who they find waiting for them in Calais, but what is a thousand years of companionship, really, if you can't occasionally be strangers? Warnings: Strong language and a lot of Old Man Bilingual Bickering

As I told @draw-a-circle-thats-the-foxhole, this is the first time I’ve written anything even vaguely romance-adjacent in years. I hope it’s not too corny.

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The actual travel time between Folkstone and Calais was a scant half hour; the lines for customs were considerably longer. From his place in the queue, Arthur leaned out of his demarcated lane to see how much further he had yet to go; it was nearly as long as it had been when he checked fifteen minutes ago.

"Fucking Boris," He grumbled under his breath. An elderly flat-capped gent in front of him turned to glare at the same time as the young man next to him—grandson?—looked up from his iPhone to snort. As the old man diverted his glare towards his grandson, the teen met eyes with Arthur and tipped his head in camaraderie. Arthur shrugged back in a 'am I wrong?' gesture.

There had been a time when the name and unique crest on Arthur's passport would have waved him past customs entirely. It hadn't been a very long time, come to think of it, but Christ it had been a glorious few decades. Then again, there had been a time when things like plague had required four weeks of quarantine on a filthy boat anchored a league offshore, instead of something as simple as a covid pass and a face mask, so he supposed he really oughtn't to complain.

After some untold eternity, he was standing at the customs desk and gained immediate rapport with the French agent behind the plexiglass when he greeted him in fluent French and handed him all his papers without prompting. It was the last time Arthur planned on speaking French during his stay if he could possibly help it. He took his passport back and wove his way through the familiar maze of the terminal, now ridden with all manner of stickers on the floor, plexiglass dividers, and hand sanitizer dispensers.

For ten in the morning, the place was crowded; far more crowded than Arthur had expected. Then again, after years of closures, quarantines, and restrictions, once the French and British governments had—finally—blown open their borders once more, it only made sense that people would flock to visit friends and relatives once more.

It was what Arthur was doing, after all. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Wétu?

I'm in the terminal, Arthur typed back, standing obnoxiously in the middle of the walkway as people parted around him. Where are you?

Are you past the customs border?

Yes of course. It's much busier than I expected.

Je manque aux Anglais :)

You're a twat.

A man bumped into Arthur's shoulder and grumbled at him through a thick Scottish accent. Arthur frowned and readjusted the bag hanging from his shoulder, looking around and realizing there was no real place to stand without being in someone's way. He marched onward in the hopes of finding more space as the exodus from customs cleared.

Seriously, where are you? His thumbs clicked away angrily, I'm in the middle of the bloody path

Ah, already making a nuisance of yourself, it's almost like you never left

You ARE here, aren't you?

No response came, so Arthur shoved his phone into his pocket and found a rubbish bin to stand behind, hoping it would shield him from the flood of humans. He stood on tip toes and craned his neck, looking around every which way, but all he could see was facemasks and suitcases.

"If you're trying to throw yourself away," said a cheeky French accent behind him, and goddamnit Arthur would never admit it, but he'd missed what it sounded like in person, "I believe you qualify for l'recyclage, it's just around the corner."

"Nice of you to finally show-" No sooner did Arthur turn around than did the words die on his lips. Beneath his mask, his jaw was open. Loudly, obnoxiously, very Englishly amidst a sea of travelers, he said,

"What the fuck did you do to your hair?!"

People around them started out of surprise and there was one young lady who couldn't stifle her sudden laughter at the outburst. Francis Bonnefoy also laughed, but it had a self-conscious edge to it as he reached up a hand to tuck a strand of short—short—blond hair behind an ear, but it immediately fell back down again.

"What can I say?" the taller man shrugged. "We've all dealt with quarantaine in our own ways"

Arthur did not respond, and set his bag down so he could step forward to touch Francis' hair. Trimmed short in the back—Arthur's brain reeled to process the image of Francis wielding hair trimmers—and left longer in the front, the longest curls of Francis' pride and joy still only reached to the tips of his ears.

"I barely bloody recognize you," Arthur said, no real heat in his voice as he ran his fingers through the golden hair.

"What a very rude thing to say," Francis grumbled, even as he allowed his eyes to close for a moment at Arthur's touch. "As if I am still not the most fashionable person here, amongst all these morne Engl-"

"Wait a moment, wait a bloody moment," Arthur's fingers had trailed down the side of Francis' face, and he grabbed the Frenchman's chin and turned it to see his jaw. "Oh dear god," he pulled on the edge of Francis' facemask to see more of his cheek. "Are you—did you shave?!"

"I cannot keep a beard and wear a mask, it does no good to my skin, surely you—t'attends, quoi?!" It was Francis' turn to reach out his hand to Arthur's face, which was already conveniently turned for Francis to spy the skin between his mask and ear. His fingertips brushed over a dark shade of blond he hadn't seen in eons and yes, it prickled.

"Apparently you don't! Quelle merde, Angelterre?!"

"It's not my fault shaving is such a chore!" Arthur grumbled back, batting Francis' hand away. "No one sees it, anyway!"

"Non non non," Francis reached right back out to his face, "you do not get away with this so easily, I want to see-"

"Hands off, frog!"

"Then stop pulling on my mask, you're going to break it," even as he spoke, Arthur's fingers, still hooked under the edge of Francis' mask, yanked the fabric down so the Frenchman's pointed nose popped out. "Lâche-moi!" But Arthur couldn't have cared less about mask policy, he was staring directly at Francis' upper lip.

"Dear god, you did shave, who are you?"

"As much as you complain about my mustache, I thought you'd be—" Francis cut off and made a spitting noise as his mask got caught up in his mouth, and he struggled to put it to rights with his one free hand. Arthur took the opportunity to tear the mask off completely. Francis looked down at him with annoyance and shock all over his naked face. Arthur took it in for a beat before dissolving in laughter. He reached his hand back out.

"Oh, look at you," He said through his masked smile.

"Oh don't look so smug, rosbif, I have half a mind to—" and so Francis tore off Arthur's mask in one downward yank, exposing the Englishman's smile and his disheveled, full beard. Francis' eyes went wide and, after a moment of shock, he burst out laughing. Both men stood there staring at each other, dissolving in laughter the longer they looked at each other.

"What have you allowed to grow on your face?" Francis managed through his laugh, reaching out to cup Arthur's face in both hands. Though he ought to be insulted, Arthur was still overtaken by chuckling, and he reached up to touch Francis' face in return.

"You look like a child," Arthur mocked, beaming.

"You look like un grand-père," Francis accused through his laughter..

"I haven't seen you with short hair since… Christ, since Napoleon, I think."

"The last time I saw you with a beard, you were wearing chainmail and trying to shoot me in the head."

"Did I succeed?"

"I can't remember," Francis said honestly. "But I've always wondered,"

"Wondered what?" Arthur asked as Francis tugged on his whiskered chin and pulled him into a kiss. As if on reflex, Arthur's eyes fell closed and his hand went up to curl around Francis' neck, fingers scratching at the unfamiliar short hairs there. An arm wrapped around his waist and Arthur would be lying if his heart wasn't soaring from the warmth of being so close after so long. His free hand coiled itself around the lapel of Francis' coat and held him there.

After Francis felt he'd sufficiently reacquainted himself with Arthur's mouth, he pulled away, but stayed close, ignoring the hustle and bustle of the travellers, the overhead announcements, the rumble of luggage, the grumbles of stressed parents and businessmen. Arthur's eyes had always been such an odd shade of green, and they sparked a thousand memories that made the Frenchman feel, for all their long and colorful history, like he was finally home.

"Hmm," he said eventually, tilting his head back enough to regard Arthur's entire face with a satisfied grin. "I guessed right."

"What?" The Brit asked, eyebrows coming down. Francis' insides went soft seeing how red Arthur's face had become.

"It's terribly scratchy," he pronounced, thumb scritching through the blond of Arthur's beard. Arthur scoffed and looked away. "And," the hand at Arthur's back reached around to pinch at his side, "you've gained weight." Arthur's eyebrows were darker than his beard, and they drew down even further and he dropped his hands from Francis entirely.

"You always did know how to make a bloke feel better about himself," he grumbled.

"You were always far too bony, mon cher," Francis chuckled, and pulled the sulking Brit back close to him, "it feels good on you." That made Arthur blush even harder, but he stubbornly refused to look at Francis or reciprocate the hug. Francis only chuckled and leaned in to kiss Arthur's cheek. "And I never said I didn't like scratchy."

"You're a twat," Slowly, as if he didn't think Francis would notice, Arthur brought his arms back up to wrap around the Frenchman's middle.

"So you've said," Francis hugged him properly. "I've missed you, mon coeur," he said earnestly in Arthur's ear. A few centimeters shorter than Francis, Arthur's mouth was always buried in Francis' shoulder unless he tilted up his chin. He made no such effort then, and grumbled something into Francis' shoulder that might have been 'I missed you too'. It made the Frenchman smile.

Eventually they pulled apart, Arthur still pleasantly pink and Francis smiling. "It's been a long time since I took a stranger home with me," Francis waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "What a thrill." Arthur rolled his eyes but smiled all the same.

"It's been a long time since I've had a stranger take me home, I guess you'll have to do." Arthur countered, shouldering his bag and taking Francis' hand in his without comment. "Now where on earth did my mask go?"

"I can't believe you wear those disposable monstrosities, they're hideous."

"They're comfortable."

"And not very environmentally friendly of you—what would Matheiu say?"

"Oh, don't give me that," Arthur dug a spare out of his bag.

"You brought more? Non, I will buy you new ones. Between the mask and the coat, it looks like I dug you out of a gutter."

"What's wrong with my coat?"

"It's from 1972, Arthur."

"You have plenty of things from the 70s."

"And all of them are, as the humans say, vintage. This looks like you dug it up from the darkest corner of a charity shop."

"You're unbelievable."

"And yet you love me."

"I didn't say that."

"But you do."

"Don't try to change the subject, I'll not be staying long if you spend the entire time complaining about my wardrobe."

"But I said I would help you fix it—"

"It doesn't need fixing, you idiot, that's just the point—"

The screech of trains and the rumble of the once-again busy station at Calais drowned out their bickering. They continued bickering even once inside their taxi, having never once let go of the others' hand.

#aph england #aph france #hetalia #fruk #hws england #hws france #francis bonnefoy #arthur kirkland #arthur #francis #my fanfic #my writing

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soobmint · 3 years

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paper hearts | choi soobin [f] ; [c] 80s! au, 9.6k words

s u m m a r y ; if there was one thing you wanted to avoid on valentine’s day, it was running into your ex best friend, choi soobin. but when a series of unfortunate events involving too much purple eyeshadow, drunken punches, and one stolen bicycle leads you right back to his side, you begin to realize that maybe you truly belonged with him all along.

c o n t e n t s ; soobin x fem!reader, 80s! au, valentine’s day, ex best friend! soobin, rich boy! soobin, but he’s a major dweeb and the biggest softie, yeonjun is a major prick (i’m so sorry junnie), reader is a part time worker, soobin is best friends with lee felix of stray kids, some themes of social classes, roughly inspired by the 80s movie “pretty in pink,” mentions drugs, alcohol, and single parent households, mostly just fluff, fluff, and more fluff, with a hint of crack/humor

n o t e ; hello friends! this was a very quickly planned, last minute valentine’s day idea, and it’s actually a collab with one of my dearest friends, @chanluster ! she posted her piece of the collab as well, you can check it out by going to the collab masterlist here! this was so much fun to write and i think that 80s! soobin was just too good of a concept to pass up! anyways, happy valentine’s day, i hope you enjoy this oneshot! do leave a like, reblog, or comment if you could, it really helps so much <3

[back to my masterlist] [oneshot playlist]

IF ONE MORE CUT-OUT, CRAFT-PAPER HEART HIT YOU IN THE FACE, YOU WERE GOING TO QUIT YOUR JOB.

Of course you would never actually quit. With your mother out of the picture and your father working nonstop overtime just to barely have enough cash to put food on the table for the both of you, you had come to rely on your minimum wage part-time hours more than you liked to admit. However, the handmade strings of paper hearts that hung from wall to wall throughout the entirety of the record shop you were employed at was enough to make you consider it; not to mention the Phil Collins record that had been spinning all day, filling your ears with melodies embodying the very air of romance, and the embarrassing pink sweater your boss had forced you to wear. You mumbled curses beneath your breath as you pulled at the collar, itching away at your neck.

When you made a step towards a crate full of records, ready to tidy it up after a customer had rummaged through it leaving it a mess, you were met with another face full of cheap red construction paper. With a large growl of exasperation, you swatted at the hearts and accidentally caused the entire string of them to fall to the ground. You cleared your throat, glad that no customers were present to see your little outburst.

Your boss, Jen, still saw it all.

“That’s not very festive of you, kid,” She said, taking a drag on her cigarette. “It’s Valentine’s Day! Lighten up.”

“Ah, my bad. I forgot that I was supposed to be overjoyed on the day honoring the execution of St. Valentine,” You said as you gave her a sarcastic smile. “I’ll make sure to smile at the next couple that walks in and ask them how they plan to contribute to the commercialization of a martyr’s death.”

“You must be real fun at parties,” Jen mumbled. She shook her cigarette at you from behind the counter. “You’re just bitter because you don’t have a valentine. I can’t blame anyone for giving you the cold shoulder with that attitude of yours.”

You scowled, picking up the string of hearts that you had sent crashing to the floor. “I’m not bitter, and I don’t want a date. Also, I told you to stop smoking inside! It smells awful.”

“Last I checked, this was my shop, not yours.” You rolled your eyes as you approached the counter, handing the discarded string to Jen so she could throw it in the trash. “Now you’re making me do chores for you too? You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that.”

“Jen, please, I’m really not in the mood for this today.”

Jen shrugged, bending towards the trash can to throw away the string of hearts when she paused and pulled something from the bin. You glanced over your shoulder and gasped when you saw what she held in her hand—a small red envelope with your name scrawled across the front and a pink heart-shaped sticker stuck on the back.

“What’s this?” Jen asked, opening the envelope and shaking out the contents. A single slip of paper fell out, landing atop the counter. You rushed to grab it, but Jen snatched it up just before your fingers reached the countertop.

“Give me that,” You insisted, face growing warm. “I threw it away for a reason!”

“It’s an invitation to a party?” She seemed beyond surprised, glancing back and forth between you and the paper several times. “You got invited to a Valentine’s Day party, and instead of going, you asked me to give you extra hours? Why?”

You looked down at your feet, digging the toe of your sneaker into the blue carpet. There were, in fact, many reasons why you did not want to go to that party. They were as follows:

One: Choi Yeonjun was the one who had invited you. After you had rejected his offer when he asked to take you to a basketball game a month before, you could barely make eye contact with him in the school hallway without feeling guilty. That and the fact that he was one of the richest preps in the school, you knew he had just been asking you out for some sort of prank or dare that you preferred to not potentially fall victim to.

Two: you needed to work as much as you could. Money, as always, was tight for you and your father. There was no way you would sacrifice precious hours to go to a party full of rich kids where nothing but humiliation was sure to await you.

Three: your old childhood friend and the one person you couldn’t bear to see was probably going to be there—Choi Soobin.

You had barely spoken to Soobin in the four years you had been in high school. Crossing paths with him in the cafeteria, turning down the same aisle of books as him in the library, all those tiny stolen glances and accidental encounters were the only bits of interaction you had kept throughout all that time. The worst part was, he hadn’t done anything wrong.

It was nothing but your own cowardice that had driven the two of you apart, and you were still too afraid to own up to it.

Instead of explaining all of this to Jen, you simply shrugged and said, “I dunno. It just sounds lame.”

Your boss sighed, holding the invitation out towards you. “Okay, I’m letting you off early. Go to the party.”

With wide eyes, you shook your head immediately. “Absolutely not. Why in the world would I go?”

“Well, first of all, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity for you. Who knows when your next chance to go to a party will be.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that.

“Second, it’s a holiday! The only reason I even opened today was because you were begging me for hours. I thought it was because you were bummed about having no plans, but clearly it’s because you wanted an excuse to be a recluse.”

“Hey, I’m not a recluse.”

“Clearly.” She shook the invitation at you once more, brows raised. “If you go, I’ll raise your pay by fifty cents for the next month.”

Your ears perked up at that.

“Well?” She asked, well aware that she had hit the jackpot. “What'd ya say?”

Weighing the risks against the benefits, you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Make it a dollar and you’ve got a deal.”

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S, CHOI.”

When Soobin heard the sarcastic remark coming from his best friend, Felix, he had to fight back the urge to burst into tears then and there. He still wasn’t quite sure how Felix had convinced him to come, but he was already regretting it. The last thing he wanted to do to celebrate the day dedicated to love was spend it at a house party—or, as Soobin preferred to call them, any outcast high school kid’s version of hell on earth.

With a quick peek between his fingers, which he had used to cover his eyes immediately upon arriving at the site of the Valentine’s party, Soobin caught another eye-full of couples getting all too familiar with one another out in the open. He gulped, letting his hands grip the handles of the bike as he averted his gaze, choosing to cast his best glare at Felix, who was busy adjusting his ever-present beanie.

“Shut up,” he murmured, slowly sliding off the seat of his bike. He dusted off the worn, tearing cushion, glancing around the area. “Now quick, we gotta put our stuff somewhere safe.”

Felix looked aghast, making no moves to help Soobin in his search for a hiding spot. “What are you doing?”

“Tryna find a safe place for my bike?” He thought the answer to be somewhat obvious, but clearly Felix wasn’t on the same track of thinking. “You don’t know today’s world! Anyone is willing to steal nowadays.”

“Soobin, your bike is coughing up oil from its chains. It should be in its own care home at this rate.”

“I don’t wanna hear your slander, skater boy,” Soobin retorted, eyeing Felix’s ebony skateboard that he refused to be seen without. As if on cue, when he pushed his bike forward, the chains squealed, drawing the attention of a pair of particularly passionate individuals who had been wrapped up with one another moments before. Soobin ignored their annoyed stares, feeling his ears burn from embarrassment. He glanced back to Felix. “Help me find a hiding spot.”

Felix was anything but enthusiastic, but he began to help Soobin search nonetheless.

“Slide it in here, Soobs,” Felix called a few moments later. He was pointed to an empty space between the home’s perfectly trimmed bushes. Soobin pursed his lips together, pushing his large glasses further up the bridge of his nose—a nervous tick of his. Felix groaned, rolling his eyes. “Or you can leave it out in the open so it’ll spit more oil on the passersby? Is that what you want?”

“Fine, fine!” Soobin huffed, wheeling his bike over to the shrubbery, chains squeaking all the way. He carefully laid it beneath the brush and moved a few branches to cover it up nicely. He stood up straight, dusting his hands on the front of his loose blue jeans. “What about your skateboard?”

Felix gave the board a pat, awarding his most prized possession a dazzling smile one would expect to see a proud father giving his beloved son. But in reality, it was the school’s stoner grinning ear to ear at his old, dusty skateboard. “Nightrider stays with me.”

Soobin scrunched his nose, cringing on instinct. He still calls that thing by that stupid name?

Felix clapped him on the shoulder before he could make a remark, catching him off guard when he said, “Right. Let’s go and get your girl.”

There was nothing Soobin could do to stop the flush that rushed to his cheeks right away. Images of you, his ex-best friend and the only reason he had even come to this party in the first place, flashed through his mind. Had he not overheard Yeonjun invite you earlier that morning and then casually mention the encounter to Felix, there was no way he would have even stepped foot out of his house that night. Part of him was peeved, wishing he had never uttered a single word about you to his overbearing friend. Yet, deep down, there was hope within him—the tiniest sliver.

If there was even the slightest chance that he could talk to you that night, he would do anything. Even if it meant dealing with a stupid party, and the never-ceasing teasing he was bound to continue receiving from Felix.

“Don’t even say that,” He said, emphasizing each word as they walked up the front steps. Soobin had to glance down at his much shorter friend to see the devious grin on his freckled face.

“Say what? That she’s your girl, your woman, your one and only?”

The blush must have been creeping to his neck by that point. He could feel it. “I. . .” There were many things Soobin wished to say; angry words that would hopefully shut the blonde skater boy up real quick. But he couldn’t bring himself to say a single harsh word, so he sighed in defeat. “I can’t even say it.”

“That you hate me?” Felix only grinned even bigger, and Soobin couldn’t help the tiny defeated smile that slipped over his features. “Oh, I know. It’s because I’m too good of a best friend.”

They stepped into the house then, instantly being overwhelmed by loud music, boisterous laughter, and drunken yells echoing throughout the halls. Soobin latched onto Felix right away, gripping his friend’s sleeve as someone stumbled into him, a bit of beer spilling from their cup. He pushed his glasses up, only for them to slide right back down as he began to sweat.

“Maybe we should go home, Lix!” Soobin shouted to be heard over the noise as they travelled further into the house. “We can always try next year!”

“Stop being a scaredy-cat!” Felix shouted back, and Soobin thought he might actually begin to cry as they squeezed their way into the living room. Soobin nearly gagged at the strong smell of alcohol as it burned in his nose. The scene was nothing short of a nightmare to Soobin—loud voices, smoke rising in the air, vodka assaulting his nose and sweat beading on the back of his neck. He had never been one to drink, and he didn’t plan on starting that night; but he was beginning to understand what Felix meant when he had once told him it was nearly impossible to get through one of these parties sober.

He was about to make another complaint and beg to leave when someone from the crowd hollered his name, causing him to wince when he recognized that voice as the one that belonged to none other than Choi Yeonjun.

“Soobin! Where you been?”

Soobin smiled nervously at the school’s heartthrob—and textbook snobby rich kid—before he turned back to Felix. He didn’t want to leave his friend, but he knew that he would never hear the end of it if he ignored Yeonjun’s persistent calls. “I’ll be right back,” He promised Felix, still holding onto his sleeve.

“No, no,” Felix assured. “You go. You’ll probably find her around that place anyway.”

Soobin wasn’t so sure of that. You were definitely not of the right social standing to be caught amongst the circle of the school’s rich boys—which was why it had surprised Soobin that Yeonjun had invited you to the party in the first place. Your high school had its own caste system, and you were near the bottom of it.

And, as much as it pained him to admit it, Soobin was stuck at the very top with all the other rich snobs who cared about nothing more than their daily allowances that came straight from their daddy’s bank account.

“What about you, buddy?” He asked Felix, desperate for any excuse to remain by his friend’s side. He would have tried to bring Felix with him, but his friend was in an even worse social standing than you were—he was poor, and he was most known for being the school’s pothead. There was no way Soobin would willingly drag him into a situation where nothing but slander and torment awaited him.

“Me?” Felix shrugged, gripping his board tighter. “I’ll just smoke away the night.”

Soobin pouted, glancing back at the group of preps as they called for him once again. He sighed, clapping Felix on the shoulder. “Just make sure you won’t smell too much of it when I come back.”

Submitting himself to his doom then, he turned on his heel and slowly made his way to where the group of boys sat near the sofa, giving them a half-hearted wave.

“Why were you hanging around that Felix guy?” Yeonjun asked once Soobin had reached their circle. “Did he blackmail you or something?”

Soobin frowned, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “He’s my friend.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, brushing a hand through his perfectly-straightened ebony locks. “Sure he is. Tell me, do you see every kid you find on the streets as some sort of personal charity project? Or is it just Felix and—what was her name—” He snapped his fingers then before he said, “Y/N, right?”

Soobin didn’t respond—well, it was more like he couldn’t respond. By nature he was a very passive being, but nothing drew him closer to bouts of anger than when the people he cared about were being insulted right before him.

Especially when it came to you.

Yet, as much as he wanted to tell Yeonjun off or give him a nice shove into the smoke-stained walls, words failed him. They always did. Perhaps this was why you had abandoned him all those years ago. Nobody knew him better than you did, so of course you were able to see what he truly was beneath all the expensive clothes and nervous laughter—a coward.

He figured that he’d probably have left himself too.

“Drink up, buttercup.” The chipper voice that belonged to the other Choi in the small gathering of socialites, Choi Beomgyu, thrust a plastic red cup towards Soobin’s chest.

He shook his head, throwing another wavering smile in his direction. “No thanks. I don’t drink.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “Of course you don’t. Why are you even here then?”

Once again, Soobin chose silence as his only response. He swallowed, patting the front pocket of his denim jacket. As the group of boys began conversing once more, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander around the room, searching every drunken face for the features that belonged to you, trying to hear your name in every conversation, desperate for your voice to break through the blasting music and shouting voices.

“Who ya looking for there, Big Choi?” Soobin grimaced at the nickname. He was skinny, but incredibly tall, and nobody would let him forget that. “Big Choi” was one of his most common nicknames among the elitists. He despised it, but of course, he would never voice that aloud.

He glanced at Beomgyu and smiled nervously again, shaking his head. “Nobody.”

His eyes met Yeonjun’s and he gulped yet again as the latter eyed him with suspicion. It wasn’t as though he had anything to hide, but something about Yeonjun’s calculating gaze made his skin crawl.

He needed to escape. Just for a moment, at least.

“I’ll be right back. Going to find some water.”

He slipped out of the living room then, apologizing profusely to each couple he accidentally bumped into, bowing in remorse to each person’s toes his big feet happened to stumble over. He ached to be by Felix’s side—the stoned skateboarder had become somewhat of a security blanket to the taller of the duo—but his blonde friend was nowhere to be seen.

After snagging a bottle of water from the kitchen, Soobin managed to slip into an empty bathroom. He slammed the door shut and wasted no time in locking it. Letting out the biggest sigh of relief, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door, taking a big gulp of the ice cold water.

He set the bottle on the counter and carefully reached into the front pocket of his jacket, his fingers finding the piece of paper he had been storing there all evening. He pulled it out and let his eyes wander over his middle school creation. It was a big heart, cut out from a scrap piece of red construction paper. Scrawled across it in his eight-grade handwriting were the words, Be mine this Valentine’s! His name was etched at the bottom, and at the very top, delicately printed in hot pink glitter glue, your name was written as well.

He had planned to give this to you four years ago on Valentine’s day. Everything had been planned out perfectly; he was to pick you up on his old, trusty bike. It wasn’t really made for two people, but the two of you had fashioned a makeshift extra seat for you to sit upon whenever you went places together.

He wanted to take you to the Dairy Shack, which was the local ice cream shop where the two of you spent the most time together. You always got a large chocolate shake to share, playing a quick game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who got to eat the cherry on top. He was going to order a shake and specially ask for two cherries that time, and planned to give both of them to you before he would bravely present you with the handmade card he had spent all day working on.

However, when he waited for you outside your house that day, the red dusk turned to pitch black night, and you never stepped foot out your door.

He had even gone up to your door a few times and knocked, but there was no answer. Eventually he pedalled off into the night, back to his house. He was disappointed, of course, but more worried than anything else. He had hoped you weren’t sick.

But when he saw you at school the next day, he knew that hadn’t been the case.

And when you ignored him calling your name as you passed by him in the hallways, he knew that something had drastically changed.

For weeks, Soobin was in great turmoil as he replayed your last few encounters together before you had stood him up. Perhaps you were angry that he had won the last few games of rock, paper, scissors? If he had known, he would have given you all the cherries for the rest of time if it meant you would still talk to him. He didn’t care about them—he cared about you.

He missed you.

And as weeks turned to months, and months turned to years, you still barely spoke to him, and he missed you more and more. The best friend he had wanted to take a step closer to had taken a thousand steps back from him, and he still had no idea why.

But that night, he was determined to find out.

Well, if he could muster up the courage to get a single word out, of course.

He folded the heart back up and stuck it back in his pocket, taking a deep breath as he observed himself in the fogged-up mirror. He fixed his bright blue hair that Felix had helped him bleach and dye, making sure the pieces fell over the corners of his eyes just right. He straightened his white turtleneck and cuffed the sleeves of his denim jacket until he was at least somewhat content with his appearance.

“You can do this, Soobs,” He told himself, adjusting his big round glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “That’s what Felix would say.”

“Hey, rich boy!” A loud scream came from outside the bathroom door, accompanied by harsh knocking that sent Soobin stumbling backwards until he fell in the shower, pulling the curtains down with him.

“Hurry up in there! I’m about to piss myself!”

Soobin let out a shaky sigh, scrambling to his feet as he rushed to fix the curtain he had torn down with his clumsiness. “Sorry,” he mumbled, though he doubted the person on the other side of the door could hear him.

He realized then with an ever growing dread that it would be a miracle if he survived the night long enough to even find you, but it would take the work of God himself for him to actually speak to you.

He figured it was time for him to start praying.

YOU KNEW IT WAS A MISTAKE TO LET JEN DO YOUR MAKEUP.

When she had stopped you on your way out the door with a compact of bright purple eyeshadow, you had turned her down right away. No way in all of creation were you walking in a party with such an atrocious color caked up to your brow bone.

“How can you say it’s gonna look bad if you haven’t even let me try?” Jen had asked.

You had given her a once-over, your lips pressed into a thin line. “If it’s gonna look anything like the way you do your own makeup, I’m gonna have to pass.”

After that snide remark, she had threatened to fire you if you didn’t let her apply the makeup. And so you obliged, though you didn’t have much of a choice.

The booming sounds of the party hit your ears before you had even reached the lawn. Screaming teens—well, there were probably some adults thrown in there as well—and the sound of music spilled through the open windows of the home. Couples and singles alike were scattered throughout the perfectly kept lawn that was now littered with empty cups and other assortments of garbage.

You looked down at your patchwork jeans and pink sweater, certain that you would be underdressed compared to the rest of the partygoers. But from the looks of things, as you carefully squeezed your way through the front door and into the home, everyone was probably too wasted to even notice your arrival, let alone care about your looks.

You caught a glimpse of your face in the hallway mirror, cringing at the sight of your eyeshadow. You had tried to wipe some of it away before arriving, but it simply smudged, giving you quite the shocking smoky, purple eye look. For someone who didn’t even know the difference between a paintbrush and a makeup brush, it was a bold look, to say the least.

If Soobin saw you looking like this, he’d probably have a heart attack.

Soobin.

In the midst of all your frantic preparation, you had nearly forgotten about the main reason why you had planned to avoid this party at all costs. With a quick glance around the room, you realized that he was nowhere to be seen. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he hadn’t shown up at all. He was never a fan of parties, anyway.

You crossed your arms over your chest and slowly slipped past the couples crowding the hallway with their limbs intertwined, mouths practically swallowing one another whole, until you reached the living room. Surprisingly, it was less crowded in here than you thought it might be. A few minglers were scattered about the room’s perimeter, but they all kept away from the center of the room, which was occupied by none other than Choi Yeonjun and all his brainless, rich-boy worshippers. You quickly scanned the group, not able to make out Soobin among them. When you realized he wasn’t there, you were partly relieved and partly disappointed. If was to be anywhere at this party, it would probably be with these guys.

With a quick turn on your heel, you planned to make your way out of the living room before Yeonjun could see you. The last thing you wanted was for the boy with a bruised ego to see you, regardless of whether or not he had been the one to invite you.

“Y/N? You came?”

Too late.

Plastering a forced grin to your face, you slowly turned to face Yeonjun, who had just called your name. He was eyeing you with slight surprise, but soon, a smirk slipped across his lips as he motioned for you to come over. You had to hold back your sigh, wishing there was some way for you to get out of this situation. It was all Jen’s fault that you had to show up in the first place. You decided you were going to demand an extra ten cents be added to your raise the next time you saw your pushy boss.

“Hey Yeonjun,” you said once you had walked over to him. “I figured I’d stop by for a minute or two, since you were kind enough to invite me.”

He smirked, glancing at a few of his friends. They shared a knowing laugh with one another, but the meaning of it was lost to you. You wanted nothing more than to get away from them, but that wasn’t an option.

“You’re too busy to go out with me to a basketball game but free enough to come to a party, huh?” He asked.

You blinked, digging your nails into your arms. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s fine, really,” He drawled, swirling his plastic cup of beer in his hand. “You didn’t think I’d be upset or anything did you? I only asked you out because I was dared to shack up with you. But I’m guessing you already knew that, since you’re so smart and all.”

Your eyes went wide, but you managed to control the rest of your expression. It was just like you had guessed—Yeonjun had invited you to the party with the sole purpose of making a scene.

If you survived the night, Jen was never going to hear the end of it.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” He asked, pushing himself to his feet. You could tell by the slight stumble in his step and his hooded eyes that he had quite a bit to drink. He took a step towards you, causing you to back up immediately. Your back hit the wall, and you placed your palms against it as Yeonjun towered over you.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know why you’re here anyways.” He leaned forward, his lips hovering near your ear. “You’re here to see Soobin, aren’t you? Since he’s the only one here willing to waste his time on filth like you.”

Your blood boiled, and you had to clench your fists at your sides to control your anger.

“Don’t,” You seethed, “Call me that.”

“Call you what? Filth? Or sweetheart? Why, is that something good old Binnie used to call you—”

He never got to finish that sentence, because with one big burst of anger, you stomped on his toe as hard as you could with your worn-out platform sneaker.

“What the hell!” He screeched, drawing the attention of several others in the room. His outburst even caused a few of the couples to pull away from each other’s faces long enough to eavesdrop.

Before you could even say anything back, lukewarm liquid was splashed up in your face, burning your eyes and nose. You gasped, running your hands over your eyes to see Yeonjun with his now empty cup of beer pointed towards you.

“Think twice before you act out against me next time, sweetheart. Never forget your place.”

Tears of anger burned in your eyes, and you scanned the room to see several people exchanging whispers and giggles as they glanced in your direction. You pushed past Yeonjun and quickly made your way out the back door of the house, unable to stand the humiliation for a moment longer.

Soobin arrived in the living room just in time to see you leave.

He wasted no time in rushing towards Yeonjun, grabbing hold of his arm. “Yeonjun, was that Y/N?” He asked, eyes quickly taking in the puddle of alcohol on the floor and the empty cup in Yeonjun’s hand. “What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry your pretty blue head about, Big Choi. I just put her in her place is all.”

Soobin’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean you ‘put her in her place?’”

Yeonjun laughed, giving Soobin a nonchalant pat on the back. “Just drop it, would you? It has nothing to do with you.”

“What did you say, Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun was growing irritated now. He huffed out a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “I said it has nothing to do with you, Soobin. I know you like to hang around people like that pothead Felix, but the rest of us live in the real world, where we’d rather not waste our time with those who have no future anyways. I bet he’s the one that got you to dye your hair that god awful blue, isn’t he?”

Soobin bit the inside of his cheek. He so badly wished to rip Yeonjun to shreds then and there. If he had Felix’s courage, the cocky bastard would have been knocked to the ground ages ago. But if there was one thing Soobin was sure he could never be, it was brave. And so, despite his rage, he remained silent, his eyes practically burning a hole through Yeonjun’s chest from how intently he was glaring.

It seemed as though Yeonjun was about to say something, but his eyes landed on the bit of red that peeked through the front pocket of Soobin’s denim jacket. Before Soobin had time to defend himself, Yeonjun had reached forward and snatched it from his pocket, revealing the large paper heart—his valentine for you.

“So this is why you care so much,” Yeonjun said, laughing as his eyes scanned the glittery words that decorated the page. “You want her to be your valentine.”

“Give that back,” Soobin said quietly, his hands beginning to shake.

Yeonjun instead lifted his eyes to Soobin, gave him a sickly sweet grin, and ripped the heart straight down the middle. He let the two pieces fall from his hands to the ground, and with them Soobin’s heart went also.

“You’re really willing to try and go against me, and for what? For the sake of a girl who can’t even afford a new pair of jeans and a boy that smokes his life away in the bathroom stalls?” Yeonjun took a slow step towards Soobin, his eyes glinting with a sinister determination. “You may be rich, Soobin, but if you choose to lower yourself to their standards, you may as well be dirt poor just like they are.”

With his hands clenched into tight fists, his glasses sliding down his nose, and his heart quite literally in two pieces on the floor below him, Soobin decided that he had had enough.

“I’d much rather be associated with people who are kind and have actual depth to their character than be lumped together with a bunch of pricks like you with no real personality—because that’s something you can’t buy with daddy’s paycheck.”

He had to physically restrain himself from slapping his hand across his own mouth in shock. It was as if the spirit of Felix himself had possessed him to say such harsh things. He wondered where Felix was then, wishing more than ever before to have his best friend by his side as he began to tremble from either the rush of adrenaline that coursed through his veins, or from fear. Or perhaps it was both.

He didn’t have time to ponder it any longer before Yeonjun’s fist collided with his nose, resulting in a sickening crack as pain echoed throughout his face in tidal waves.

He stumbled backward as people began to shout, raising his hand to his nose and gasping when he saw that his palm was covered in blood.

Beomgyu had his arms wrapped around Yeonjun, who was desperately trying to lunge towards Soobin once again.

“Knock it off, Yeonjun!” Beomgyu shouted, pushing the elder back. “His dad is on the school board! Are you trying to get expelled?”

Beomgyu looked over his shoulder at the still stunned Soobin, who was gaping at the blood that now stained his once white turtleneck.

“Get lost, Soobin,” Beomgyu said, to which Soobin only blinked in reply, his ears ringing.

“Now!”

Head spinning, Soobin picked up the two halves of his paper heart, stuffed them into his jeans, and stumbled out the same door he had seen you go through just minutes before. After checking to make sure his glasses were still intact—they were, thankfully—he shook his head in an effort to clear his mind of the static, eyes scanning the front lawn looking for any trace of you.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to spot you among the now dwindling crowd of partygoers. Your bright pink sweater stood out against the darkness, so he was able to recognize you even with your back towards him. He sniffed, wiping the back of his hand against his dripping nose as he slowly made his way to where you sat on the curb, your feet planted on the asphalt street. He wished that he looked a bit more presentable—when he played this scene out in his head over the years in which he would finally reunite with you, he never imagined himself dazed and covered in blood.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, he supposed.

When he reached you, he simply stood beside you in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. He could tell that you sensed his presence, but you refused to look up at him as you kept your face buried in your hands. He could have sworn he heard a few muffled sobs slip through your fingers, but of course, he wasn’t going to bring that up.

Eventually he decided to slip his jacket off of his shoulders, leaning down to drape it over you. You still kept your head down as he sat beside you on the curb, but he watched you grip the jacket and pull it tighter around your body. He smiled a bit, holding the collar of his turtleneck against his throbbing nose.

“Thank you,” you muttered, wiping your hand across your eyes. You finally looked over at him, and when you did, you couldn’t hold back your gasp. “My God Soobin, what happened to your face?”

“Oh, well, I might have gotten punched,” He said quickly, trying to wave off your concern. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Punched? By who?”

He looked down at the ground, sniffing as a drop of blood hit the pavement. “Yeonjun,” he muttered under his breath.

“I’m sorry, did you just say Yeonjun? Are you insane? Why on earth would you butt heads with the Choi Yeonjun?”

Soobin didn’t say anything in response, he simply stared at you, eyes wide with beer dripping off the ends of your hair, makeup smeared across your face, your sweater stained down the front. It didn’t seem to take long for you to put the pieces together, as the shock left your face and was replaced with something akin to guilt.

“Oh,” You said, looking back down at your shoes.

“So she knows that I did it all for her,” Soobin thought.

For some reason, the idea of that both terrified and excited him.

A second later, he glanced over to see you ripping one of the hand-sewed patches of fabric off your jeans, leaving a square of your skin exposed to the chilly night air. You leaned towards him, pushing his hand away from his nose so you could use the patch to clean up some of the blood on and around his puffy red nose.

“Y/N, your pants!” He exclaimed, trying to push your hand away. “They’re ruined!”

“I’m not worried about my pants, you idiot,” You said, swatting his hand away as you continued to press the cloth against his skin. “You got punched in the face because of me, this is the least I could do.”

“That was my choice though,” He muttered, although he stopped trying to resist your touch. He ignored the way his heart thrummed harder in his chest, hoping that you couldn’t hear.

“Well, this is my choice too.” Your eyes flicked to his for a brief moment, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. “Why did you do it, by the way?”

“Do what?”

“Stand up to Yeonjun for me and get a nasty nosebleed as a result.”

“Oh.” He blinked slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on yours. “Just ‘cause.”

“Because . . . ?”

“Because of you.” He blurted, causing your hand to go still against him. He swallowed his fear, braving the best smile that he could. “Just you. That was my only reason.”

You didn’t say anything as your hand fell from his face, the cloth clutched between your fingers. The anxiety he had tried his best to suppress came rushing up all at once, and he was surprised that his ears didn’t begin to squeal like a tea kettle from all the pressure.

“Y/N,” He said, gently placing his hand over yours despite how his fingers trembled. “Why did you pull away from me?”

“What?”

“Four years ago. Why did you stop talking to me?”

You were quiet for a moment, digging into the ground with the toe of your sneaker. Soobin held his breath until you finally replied with, “I was afraid.”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“We were getting older, Binnie,” You said, and his heart skipped at the use of your old nickname for him. “You and I, we’re from very different walks of life. You get to hang out with people like Yeonjun, whereas I get a cup of beer poured all over my face just for existing, and you get a fist to the nose for trying to stand up for me. We’re from different sides of the track, one might say.”

“So?” Soobin asked, his hand tightening around yours. “Did you really think that would affect us that much, Y/N?”

You frowned, glancing down at his hand over yours.

“I thought you’d be embarrassed of me,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Embarrassed?” Soobin’s eyes went wide as he gripped your hand tighter still, pulling it into his lap. “Y/N, I would never, ever be embarrassed of you. Besides, have you seen my best friend? He’s on a first name basis with the principal because of how often he gets written up for smoking behind the school. If I’m not embarrassed of him, why would I ever be embarrassed of you?”

You laughed, wiping the back of your hand across your eyes once more. “I guess I was worried about nothing, huh?” You sniffed, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Soobin.”

He shook his head, squeezing your hand right back. “Don’t apologize. You’re here now, that’s what matters. Do think we could—you know—”

“Pick up where we left off?” You smiled, nodding vigorously. “I’d like that very much, Binnie.”

He beamed then, almost pinching himself to be sure that he was not dreaming, but the pain in his nose was real enough to remind him of that on its own. He jumped to his feet, pulling you right up with him.

“In that case, how about we finally go on that Valentine’s date I had planned all the way back then?”

“Date?” You asked, a brow raised. “Is it really considered a date if two friends are just hanging out?”

He didn’t respond as he pulled you along behind him towards the bushes where he and Felix had hidden his bike. He crouched down and moved the branches aside, feeling his heart drop to his stomach when he realized that his bike was, in fact, no longer there.

He shot up, turning to face you with eyes wide. “Felix—that bastard took my bike!”

You were quiet for a moment, but then, you burst into boisterous laughter, leaving Soobin utterly confused.

“It’s not funny, Y/N!” He whined, shoving your shoulder lightly. “I was supposed to take you to the Dairy Shack on my bike!”

“It is funny,” You said between bursts of laughter. “Only you would get such a rusty old piece of metal stolen from you.”

He pushed his lips out in a pout, sliding his glasses up his sore nose. “It’s a good bike, don’t make fun of it.”

You grinned, interlocking his fingers with yours, which was enough to instantly wipe the pout right off his face.

“Let’s just walk, Binnie. The Dairy Shack isn’t that far anyways.”

You were right; the walk to your favorite milkshake place was very close to the house where the party had occurred. Although Felix stealing his bike had thrown an obvious wrench in his plans, it was a minor hiccup, and one he could most definitely handle. Besides, he wouldn’t have to see Felix until the next day anyways. He could deal with his frustration then.

At least, that’s what he thought anyways, until the two of you spotted Felix at the skatepark on your way to the dairy shack.

Soobin’s eyes took in the deplorable sight before him—from where he stood on the dimly lit sidewalk, he could see Felix and a girl he had never seen before, their faces nearly pressed together, and most importantly, with his bike discarded a few yards away from them.

“Soobin,” You said, tugging on his arm. “They look like they’re busy, let’s just go—”

But Soobin, who had little patience when it came to Felix messing up his plans, didn’t let you finish before he screamed, “Give me back my freaking bike!”

You had to hold back your snort of laughter at his choice of words. Even when he was trying to sound angry, he was undeniably adorable.

Soobin watched as Felix startled, clutching his spliff between his fingers as he glared daggers back at his friend. Soobin gulped, trying not to let his fear show on his face. What did he have to be afraid of, anyways? He was the victim of thievery, and his best friend was the offender.

Felix took a big step towards him, but he paused, his eyes landing on your interlocked hands. Soobin glanced down as well, his face growing furiously warm as he realized the situation he had gotten himself into.

He decided to divert the subject before it could even be brought up by saying, “I can’t believe you stole my bike! All this time I was trying to hide it from strangers, but you, my best friend! I should’ve been hiding it from you!”

Soobin noticed Felix’s female companion step off the skateboard and walk over in his direction, and for a second he felt bad for possibly ruining her night with his best friend. However, his frustration was more prominent in the moment as he fixed his gaze back on his best friend, who had fixed a mischievous smirk upon his face that made warning sirens blare in Soobin’s head right away.

“Now, now, buddy,” Felix said, his voice calm and carefree as ever. It probably had something to do with what he had just smoked, but Soobin didn’t care all that much. “You’re just gonna have to let me borrow it for a little longer.”

Soobin nearly laughed at the audacity of such a statement. “You are gonna give me the bike, or—”

“How about this, Soobs?” Soobin’s lips clamped shut at his friend’s interruption, as the thief in question gestured with his joint to where Soobin’s fingers were locked with yours. “You let me keep your bike for the night, and I don’t tell your dad about you hanging out with the opposite gender.”

Unable to control yourself, you let out a big laugh. Soobin would have felt betrayed, but he was more terrified than anything else at the idea of his father finding out that he was taking a girl out without his permission. He would be grounded for weeks—no, months.

“You wouldn’t.”

Felix’s lips curled up even more into a twisted grin that Soobin wished he had the guts to slap off his face. “God, just imagine the look on Mr. Choi’s face. Imagine him finding out about your premarital hand holding.”

No. Not the hand holding.

Soobin almost felt faint, but he steeled himself to the best of his abilities as he cleared his throat. “One night, Lix,” he warned. “If I don’t see it on my porch in the morning, you’ll be sorry!”

“Oh, I’m so scared,” Felix teased. His expression changed a moment later though, when he finally noticed Soobin’s swollen nose and blood-stained turtleneck. “Wait, Soobs, the hell happened to you?”

Soobin, however, had already taken his first steps away from the skatepark, pulling you along behind him. “I’ll tell you later, bud. Enjoy your spliff with that kind girl who you probably don’t deserve!”

“Hey!”

Soobin couldn’t help but laugh as he swung your interlocked hands together, grinning as you let out a laugh as well. The anger that had seeped through him seemed to melt away in an instant as the two of you continued your journey to the Dairy Shack.

“Would your dad really be that upset if he found out about this?” You asked.

Soobin grimaced. “We should probably wait til next year to tell him about this outing. Or maybe the year after that.”

When the two of you had finally reached the Dairy Shack, you waited outside for him while he went in to order your drink. A large chocolate milkshake, with two straws, just like you used to get every time before.

When he had the drink in hand, he walked back outside and sat down beside you on the curb, smiling as you wrapped his jacket tighter around your shoulders. You smiled back up at him, your eyes creasing from the expression. Your smile had always struck him right to his core; he had missed seeing it every day.

He hoped he could see it every morning and every night from that day onward. There was no way he would let you go this time.

He just had to muster up the courage to grab hold of you first.

“You know what, Binnie, you turned out to be a lot taller than I thought you ever would be,” you said as you took one of the straws from his hands. “You’re actually enormous. It’s shocking.”

“Should I find that offensive? It sounds kinda like an insult.”

“Take it however you will,” You teased, leaning over as he popped the plastic lid off the milkshake. He grabbed the cherry by the stem and held it towards you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, holding out your fist. “We have to rock, paper, scissors for it. Remember?”

Soobin laughed as he shook his head. “I’m giving it to you this time. It’s what I planned to do all those years ago, when I asked you to hang out on Valentine’s.”

You seemed to be taken aback, but you simply shrugged as you plucked the cherry from his hand and pulled it from the stem with your teeth, glancing back over at him. It was silent for a moment, but then your eyes landed on the pocket of his jeans, where you could see a bit of red paper poking out. You leaned over even further, reaching your hand out to snatch the paper.

“What are you—hey! Give that back!”

Soobin desperately tried to take his Valentine back from you, but it was too late. You held both halves of what used to be a whole in your hands, your eyes scanning the words as you pieced them together.

“Soobin . . .”

He held his breath. Had his act of young love left you completely speechless? Were you so touched that you would burst into tears?

“This looks like a middle schooler made it.”

He let out the breath in the form of a long, long sigh.

“That’s because it was made by a middle schooler,” He said as he set the milkshake down beside him. “I made it back in the eighth grade. I planned to give it to you that Valentine’s.”

“Oh.” You ran your finger along the card’s surface, the smallest smile creeping across your lips. “Well in that case, it’s not half bad. Why’s it ripped though?”

“Ah—well, Yeonjun . . .”

You nodded, taking another glance at his swollen nose. “No need to elaborate. It seems you had a lot planned for our Valentine’s Day back then. Is there anything else you wanted to do?”

His mouth went dry at that, and he wished that you couldn’t see his face because he was sure that his expression was quite comical. All the way back then, four years prior, he had in fact planned the perfect, ideal day in his head. Picking you up on his bike, giving you the cherry from his milkshake, and presenting you with his hand made card.

There was only one thing left on his list.

He didn’t move at first, willing himself to have enough courage to even look back in your direction. But when he finally did allow his eyes to meet yours, he felt his shoulders relax and his heart rate became more manageable.

He took a deep breath, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against your cheek.

He lingered there for only a moment before he pulled back, daring to pry one of his eyes open to take in the look on your face.

The disappointment was palpable—from the way your brows furrowed together and the way you pursed your lips. His stomach dropped, and he scooted the tiniest bit away from you.

“I’m sorry,” He blurt out, his face growing warmer by the second. “I shouldn’t have done that, I just—”

“Is that all?”

Your question stopped him mid-ramble, his eyes growing wide. “Huh?”

“Is that all?” You repeated, closing the distance between you that he had created. “It’s Valentine’s Day, Soobin. I think we can do better than a peck on the cheek.”

The implications of what you were saying didn’t register with him right away, but when it finally did, he could have sworn his heart began to beat loud enough for the entire town to hear. His hand curled into a fist as he gripped the denim of his jeans. He leaned forward, keeping his eyes open just enough to watch you as he brought his lips closer to yours. He could feel your eyes on him all the while, causing his heart to pound fiercer still within him.

When he was just a breath away, he whispered, “Can you close your eyes?”

“Hm?”

He lifted his hand, gently placing it over your eyes. He leaned closer then, filling the space between you both as his lips met yours. You tasted vaguely of cherry and strawberry slice soda, and he found it quite nice the way his lips seemed to fit perfectly against your own. As the seconds drew on, your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer. He slowly let his hand fall from your eyes, tracing lines with the tips of his fingers down your cheek before he cradled your jaw, letting his lips part just enough to taste the sweet sugar on your lips once more.

He thought in a haze that it was a good thing he didn’t drink anything at the party, as kissing you was proving to be intoxicating enough on its own.

When you finally pulled away, leaving your forehead resting against his, he let his eyes flutter open enough to see the euphoric smile that adorned your features. He grinned as well, gently running his thumb against your cheek.

“I think that back then, I had planned to ask you this before kissing you,” He whispered, “But Y/N, will you be my Valentine?”

Instead of a spoken answer, you laughed, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours once again, and that was the only answer Choi Soobin would ever need.

WHEN SOOBIN ARRIVED HOME THAT NIGHT, HE WENT STRAIGHT FOR THE TELEPHONE.

It was kept upstairs at night right outside his parent’s door, to keep himself and his brother from using it in the late hours. Of course, this never stopped Soobin from sneaking it downstairs to his room in the basement to make late night calls to Felix.

And that particular evening, he really needed to give Felix an update.

He grabbed the phone from the small table in the hallway, carefully tiptoeing towards the basement stairs. Before he had even taken the first step down, the bathroom door creaked open. Soobin whipped his head around to see his brother Kai standing there, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he raised a brow at his older brother.

Soobin froze, blinking slowly as he realized the incriminating situation he found himself in.

“Please don’t tell mom,” He whispered, his eyes pleading with his younger brother.

Kai nodded, although Soobin wasn’t quite convinced that the boy was even coherent enough to understand what was going on. Soobin offered a rushed thank you, and ventured his first step down the stairs.

Well, he tried, anyways, and ended up missing the first step. He tumbled down the rest of the stairs, landing on his butt at the very end.

He winced in pain, glad to see that the phone was still intact in his hands. He glanced over his shoulders to see Kai staring down the stairway with wide eyes, his lips parted in shock. Soobin quickly put a finger to his lips, begging his brother for silence.

Kai simply shook his head and walked away, allowing Soobin the freedom to breathe out a sigh of relief.

He quickly ran to his bedroom and shut the door, collapsing onto his bed with the phone as his breaths came in ragged gasps as an aftereffect from his tumble down the stairs. He figured he should have dialed Felix’s number right away, but he couldn’t help but brush his fingers against his lips, remembering the feeling and taste of having yours pressed against them.

He was so caught up in his daze that he didn’t notice Felix calling until the third ring.

He picked it up, breathing heavily into the speaker as he rubbed a sore spot on his lower back.

“Please tell me that panting is from running a marathon, and not what I think you’ve successfully tried.”

Soobin nearly gagged, holding the phone away from his face as he coughed, flustered by his friend's crude words. He brought the phone back to his face and said, “No, you sicko, I just fell down the stairs.”

“How the hell did you manage that with those long legs?”

“That’s not important, Lix!” He laid back onto his pillows then, twirling the phone cord in his hands as he stared up at his ceiling, the memories of his adventure with you that night flooding his mind once more. He couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear as he said, “Look, I need to tell you something important.”

If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that he could hear the smile in Felix’s voice too as his friend replied.

“Well buddy, I got something to tell you too.”

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devildom-tyrant · 4 years

Note

Hi, sorry to bother you if you've done this already, but I've read your drabble where MC is comforted after a nightmare by the brothers (Mammon, Beel, and Satan) and it just makes me so soft I love it so much I keep rereading it. So I was wondering if you could do another with Asmo and Levi (and possibly Lucifer)? Obviously no pressure or anything, I'm a writer myself and understand that inspiration can be fleeting at times. Anyways, thank you, have a nice day/night!! 💖

You wake up yet again, jolting from your rest with your heart pounding in your throat. It takes you several panicked breaths to realize that you’re in your room, safe in your bed, and it was just another nightmare that jarred you from your slumber.

The details are foggy, but you can still remember the laughter, and the feeling of someone hating you with every fiber of their being to the point that they wanted you dead, that they were thrilled that you were dying.

Your bed sheets are a tangled mess around your legs, and you hastily kick them off, sitting upright and rubbing the sleep from your eyes with one hand, while you blindly reach for your D.D.D. with the other. The screen lights up, showing that it’s past 3AM, and you fight back a groan. You’re exhausted, but you know you won’t be able to go back to sleep like this. And if you show up to class half-asleep again, everyone’s just going to worry about you.

You switch on your bedside lamp and weigh your options, your gaze riveted to your D.D.D.

Lucifer

Automatically, you scroll to Lucifer’s name. At this hour, he’s likely to be asleep, though you know that his work usually keeps him up rather late. If you texted him, he would likely be worried... After all, you rarely reach out to him for help, not wanting to burden him when he has enough on his plate with Diavolo.

Several minutes pass with your screen pulled up to your text messages with Lucifer, before you finally suck in a deep breath and hastily type out: “Are you awake?” Before your mind talks you out of it, you hit Send and then immediately panic. You really don’t want to tell Lucifer about the nature of the nightmares, nor do you want to admit to them in the first place and skew his view of you.

An R for Read pops up next to the text, followed by three dots to indicate his typing, and you mentally flip your shit.

“I am now. Why are you awake?”

Shit, did you wake him up? You chew on your bottom lip, and carefully type out your response.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just having trouble sleeping and wondered if you might be up, that’s all.”

You follow that text with a sticker that’s sweat-dropping and smiling apologetically to keep it light-hearted. Lucifer texts back immediately:

“Oh?”

“Come to my room then.”

You hesitate at that, your heart pounding in your chest. Did he just--? Is he asking you to--?

“We can talk or listen to one of my records if that might help you. Or I may have some tea that could help.”

Oh. Your panic eases a bit, and you acquiescence, typing out an All right before rising to your feet and making your way to his bedroom. You feel as if you’re sneaking through the house, and it almost makes you feel guilty; it’s too quiet when everyone’s asleep. However, you make it to Lucifer’s room without incident, and he opens the door before you even knock. His expression is neutral, until he catches a glimpse of your tired, haggard appearance, which brings a light frown to his features.

“You look like hell,” he bluntly states, moving aside to let you in.

“I’m in hell,” you shoot back, to which he chuckles.

“Essentially. But that’s never stopped you from sleeping before.”

His tone is pointed, and you feel as if he knows exactly why you can’t sleep. He’s always been sharp, usually one step ahead -- or so it seemed until recently. Now, you know he’s not infallible, and he doesn’t know your every move. He’s fishing, hoping you’ll take the bait and talk to him about it. But as much as you’d like to, you’re also stubborn -- and so very tired. It’s a talk for another time.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up. I thought you might be working late or something,” you admit, skirting the issue and taking a seat on the edge of his bed. He quirks an eyebrow, but moves to sit at his desk.

“Not this late on a school night.”

You can’t help but laugh, your thoughts a little more uncensored thanks to your lack of sleep. “Sorry. That sounded weird coming from you.”

“What? It’s the truth. Our little sleep study proved the importance of rest before classes, didn’t it?” A smile plays at his lips at the thought of that, and the memory makes your cheeks heat up. Suddenly, his bed feels huge, yet this room feels so small, drawing the two of you together. You shouldn’t have come up here this late.

“I--” Part of you knows you should say that you can sleep now, that you’re fine, but you’re not. “I wish I could sleep, but I’ve been... having nightmares, and they’re stupid, but I just...”

Your voice trails, and Lucifer moves from the chair to the bed in an instant, all traces of his teasing smile gone as he pulls you against his chest. He doesn’t have to ask what they’re about; he knows.

He holds you in silence for a moment, while your heart hammers so hard, you know he can feels it. Finally, his deep baritone murmurs, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Your name comes out on his lips, and you feel your eyes watering, but you blink it away and shake your head. “I’m okay. I’m okay now. Can we... lie down for a bit?”

The request comes out small, fearful of rejection, yet afraid of the acceptance as well. Wordlessly, Lucifer lies back on the bed with you, his arms wound around you tight, one hand lightly trailing along your back. You curl into him, burying your face in his chest (his heart’s beating quickly, too, some part of you registers), and slowly begin to drift asleep.

In your semi-consciousness, you realize Lucifer’s humming a melody you’ve never heard before, yet it makes you feel so safe.

Asmo

You know Asmo isn’t awake at this hour; he’s always told you that he needs plenty of beauty rest for his skin. Still, you can’t help but click on his name, wishing that he was up so he could comfort you. He’s so light-hearted, smiling and looping his arm through yours, and that casual intimacy has always put you at ease when you’re around him. It makes it feel like you’ve known him forever.

It’s that feeling that makes you type candidly, your thumb flying across the buttons.

“I can’t sleep.”

If he doesn’t respond, then that’s fine; he’ll likely ask you about it tomorrow or give your tips to combat the bags that will surely be beneath your eyes. To your surprise, however, an R pops up next to the message, followed closely by Asmo typing.

“Then sleep with me, darling.”

That’s a dangerous double-meaning coming from the Avatar of Lust, but with your anxiety ramped up to an 11, you’re definitely not in the mood for that kind of distraction. As you make your way out into the corridor and toward his room, you type out a clarification.

“Just sleep, okay? I had a nightmare.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take your mind off it.”

When Asmo opens his door, you give him a lop-sided grin. “You perv.”

“On the contrary, darling, what I said was completely innocent. Check the chat log. If you took it wrong, well... then, I must be rubbing off on you.” Asmo smirks, automatically looping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. To his credit, he’s never groped you (without implicit permission), so you’ve always felt at complete ease with his physical affection.

“You’ve definitely been a bad influence,” you joke, not that your mind wasn’t dirty before you came to the Devildom. “But I’m really tired. I wanna be able to sleep.”

“Of course. But you’re so tense! Here, lie down on the bed and let me loosen you up.” There’s a dirty joke on both of your tongues, but you’re too drained to make it, and he’s trying to be on his best behavior. You comply, however, plopping down face-first onto his luxurious bed, while he sits beside you and begins rubbing the tension from your shoulders. Asmo knows what he’s doing when it comes to massages, and his bed has a heavy floral scent, likely from the lotions and perfumes he uses often. It’s so relaxing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, surprisingly energized for this time of night. It’s obvious that you woke him up, but strangely enough, he isn’t complaining about the interruption to his beauty sleep.

“Not really.” You’re starting to feel guilty about keeping him up. “Hey, I think I’m good on the massage. Do you mind... cuddling?”

His hands still on your shoulder blades. “You don’t have to ask me twice. I always want to cuddle with you!” Grinning excitedly, he climbs beneath the covers beside you, and wraps you up in his arms. He’s so warm, and you feel so at ease, surrounded by his soothing scent. You wind your arms around his slender frame, and he grins, pulling you in tighter, facing one another.

“You’re such a cute human. You sounded embarrassed to ask just then.”

Your face flushes. “Shuddup. I just want you to get your beauty sleep,” you mutter, which only causes him to hug you tighter.

“Aww, you were worried about me? You’re so sweet! I’m supposed to be the one comforting you, silly.” His hand trails along your back, just barely beneath your shirt so you can feel his skin on yours. He tucks your head beneath his chin, but you can tell from his voice that he’s still grinning broadly. “Just relax and fall asleep with me. You won’t have a nightmare as long as I’m holding you.”

Asmo rocks you gently, until your abashment fades and you feel yourself succumbing to sleep at last.

He’s right.

You don’t have another nightmare that night.

Levi

If there’s someone you know is going to be awake and gaming at 3AM, it’s definitely Levi. You click on his name, and type out a quick text: “I can’t sleep. Do you wanna come to my room and binge something?”

He reads the text within seconds and starts typing, just as you anticipated.

“Raiding. Come to my room instead?”

Even if you can’t sleep, you want to. You want the company, a distraction, some comfort. You would go to his room -- you’ve pulled plenty of all-nighters there, but... that’s what they were. All-nighters. His bed is literally a bathtub, and the one time you decided to take a nap in it, your neck had a wicked cramp in it for days.

“I’m tired, though. I was hoping we could watch it in bed and maybe fall asleep halfway through?”

This time, he reads it and doesn’t reply right away. You see the three dots start and stop, and you’re not sure if he’s at a pivotal point in the raid, or if he’s too flustered by your invitation to properly respond. Levi’s stayed in your room plenty of times, but he’s usually camped out with pillows in the floor, and if you happen to drift off, he keeps telling you random trivia about the show and shaking your leg until you make a noise that you heard him. You’ve never fallen asleep with him.

Your D.D.D. finally chimes with a notification.

“Did you send this to the right person??”

“Yes, Levi.”

“Oh. Then you meant you want me to stay until you fall asleep. For a second, I thought you meant sleep with you in your bed lolol.

Okay, after the raid.”

You know it’s just Levi being Levi and assuming you don’t feel that way about him, but with all the nervous energy you still have over the nightmare, you can’t help but feel your eyes water. As childish as it sounds, you just want him to hold you so you can feel like everything’s okay. You know you need to spell it out, but you leave his message on Read and pull the covers up to your chin, closing your eyes.

... It’s too restrictive. You kick at the covers and pick up your phone again, but... you can’t bring yourself to send another text, begging him to hurry. You can always go to his room; the invitation stands. Instead, you waste your time weighing your options, becoming more anxious, and ultimately, getting up to pace around your room.

About fifteen minutes pass before you hear a knock at your door, but it feels as if it’s been an eternity. “It’s open,” you say, loud enough for him to hear, and Levi steps inside with a box set tucked beneath his arm.

“Okay, I brought I Accidentally Became a Magical Girl, but the Transformation Sequence Takes So Long that the Villains Keep Attacking Me Halfway Through, and I Keep Losing but at Least I Get a Rose for Trying. It got really good reviews, and I know you said you wanted to see more comedy anime.” He smiles with such sincerity that you can’t help but feel guilty over tearing up a little earlier. Just being around him makes you feel more at ease.

“Thanks Levi, that sounds great. Pop it in, and let’s give it a go.” You smile doesn’t quite meet your gaze, and even though he’s a shut-in, it doesn’t go unnoticed that you’re acting different. He pauses, but then shakes it off and starts setting it up, while you sit down on your bed. As the first episode starts, he sits down beside you on the edge of the bed, while you’re sitting with your back against your pillows. He starts telling you trivia about the animation studio and apparently, how the manga is actually more ecchi than the anime. “OHHH, but I didn’t mean that I brought an ecchi anime for us to watch! I mean, it’s sure to have some fanservice, but... but that’s just to be expected, right? I wasn’t trying to be -- to be an Asmo or anything, I just thought you’d like it because it’s, uh, it’s supposed to be funny, and I--”

You lean forward and rest your forehead against his shoulder, cutting off his flustered explanation. “You know I don’t mind that, Levi,” you assure him, before reaching out and grasping his sleeve. He’s tense; even though you can’t see his face, you know it’s bright red, and you can feel the weight of his stare. “I’d love to watch it with you. I just... Will you lie down with me while we watch it?”

“L-l-lie down with you?! Just-- just like that?! Is this a joke? Is this some kind of weird normie--?”

He breaks off as you finally raise your head to meet his gaze. Levi can tell something’s amiss; he isn’t oblivious, he just lacks self-confidence. He softly says your name. “Why can’t you sleep?”

“I had a nightmare. About, well... what happened back then. In the foyer. When... Belphie, uh...”

“Oh.” He slides an arm around you, pulling you closer against his shoulder. You feel so weak admitting that, but Levi isn’t judgmental; he just offers you the comfort you so desperately wanted from him. “I didn’t know. I thought you were just awake because you drank too much coffee or were bored or something. If... If it’ll make you feel better, ye-yeah, I... I’ll lie down with you. If you really want me to!”

He’s still flustered, but he doesn’t think you’re joking anymore, so you smile and nod against his shoulder. “I’d really like that, Levi. Thank you.”

His face turns even brighter. “Y-yeah, no problem!”

Levi slides under the covers after you straighten them out, and you settle in beside him. His back’s up against the pillows now, so you snuggle into his side until he lifts his arm and gingerly puts it around you. Your cheek settles on his chest, and he audibly gulps, but doesn’t move.

Halfway into the episode, he starts pointing out the manga differences again, and you both laugh along with the gags and tropes throughout the show. Levi becomes more comfortable and trails his fingers along your back, and you throw one of your legs over his, cuddling closer. He keeps talking, this eccentric, passionate part of his personality being something you absolutely love about him, and the low murmur of his voice lulls you into a peaceful sleep.

#obey me imagine #obey me drabble #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me shall we date #omspoilers #kinda #nightmare #turns out that i had this half-finished in my drafts for months #Queued post

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pterodactylschreech · 3 years

Text

Entangled

(One-shot based on this post)

Lena looks beautiful tonight.

She's all Kara can think about, despite being surrounded by everyone she loves. Her eyes track back every few seconds no matter where she treks in the apartment or how much her family and friends vie for her attention. It's their first game night post-Phantom Zone and post-The Break, as Kara thinks of it. The first time everyone is back together, smiling and laughing and happy, in over a year. And they all want Kara's attention, her presence the glue for the family after her absence.

But all she can think about is Lena.

Lena sitting close on the couch while they play games. Lena passing her the last pot sticker on her plate without thought. Lena standing in the kitchen refilling her wine glass and mingling with Kelly and Brainy, at home among their friends. Kara focuses on her, intent to memorize every single detail of the other women as if she may never see her again. The crinkles by her piercing eyes when she squints in laughter at one of Nia's corny puns. The play of light on her features accentuating the sharp angle of her jaw and the soft curve of her lips. The gentle, bright look she shares with Kara when she catches her looking, a hard won relief radiating out from the woman after months of fighting one another. Kara could practically taste the joy on the air, surrounded by her little family.

Kara hopes that look means everything that her matching expression means: I love you. I'm home again, and I missed you. Hopes beyond all reason that Lena understands and is sending the same message back.

It's been a week since she returned to find Lena unemployed and living at the Tower out of a hastily packed suitcase. A week since she refused to let Lena remain in the cold and impersonal lair and convinced Lena to unofficially move in with her. She wouldn't admit it, not even to Alex, but one of the reasons Kara insisted so strongly was because she couldn't bear to sleep alone. The memories of her nightmares from her childhood after landing on Earth were enough to drench her in fear of the coming nights, the darkness and isolation that pulled her under the waves of terror. It turned out to be the best decision for both of the women as they both suffered and only found peace and reprieve when sleeping next to one another.

And it's been two days since Kara bared her soul to Alex, finally admitting the depth of her feelings for Lena after her sister told her about the decision they had been forced to make: Kara or National City. Her feelings that lay dormant for years due to her fear but surfaced to crush her under their weight during the year spent away from Lena, that grew like ivy through her heart until they covered every inch of her life. Kara sobbed into Alex's shoulder, for time lost and hope and comfort from her one constant through everything. Alex, for her part, seemed decidedly less surprised by Kara's outburst than she had expected. She let Kara expend her tears, then quietly told her it was time for Kara to choose her own happiness first. To put herself before the world and her past and her decades of fear. To tell Lena and let them be happy, together.

So now, Kara sits on her couch, surrounded by family and basking in the warmth of their love and closeness, nervous and fidgeting while she anxiously replays her prepared speech over and over in her head. For one terrifying moment, the whole situation felt excruciatingly familiar and terror spikes through her. Alex lays a hand on her bouncing knee, a distraction and reassurance that all would end well if Kara just trusted herself and Lena.

The night wore on in pleasant company until the group thinned out, pair by pair. Only Alex and Kelly remain on their way out of the apartment. Alex lingers in the doorway to give Kara an extended hug and whisper encouragement in her ear. "Good luck, Kar. Love you." She and Kelly say their last goodbye to Lena, and Kara quietly closes the door for the evening.

After taking a deep, steadying breath, Kara turns back to find Lena tossing empty take-out boxes into the recycling bin and setting their empty glasses in the sink. With her hair in a haphazard bun, Kara's NCU sweatshirt, and her cheeks pink tinged, Lena leaves Kara breathless in the entryway. The domesticity and familiarity of Lena in her clothes, in her home and cleaning up; in her glasses, forgotten after a particularly spot on impersonation during charades and still perched on the bridge of her nose, have Kara dreaming of their possible future. Of games nights and family dinners and quiet nights in that begin and end with Lena by her side.

Kara's tongue darts out to wet her lips and her hands twist together as she moves closer to Lena who has rinsed the glasses and is drying her hands on one of Kara's novelty printed dish towels. When she turns and spots Kara, hovering nearby but without fully approaching, she watches the simple movements of Kara's hands with rapt attention and smiles the same gentle grin from throughout the night. The corners of her mouth turn down slightly when she notices the focused crinkle between Kara's eyes, the unfailing sign she was deep in thought or struggling to vocalize something she found important.

Kara hardly registers the soft padding of Lena's socked feet across the floor until she reaches up to smooth the offending crinkle away with her fingertips. Kara's eyes drop closed at the gentle press, and she exhales a long held breath, focusing entirely on the point of contact and warmth to ground herself in the moment and chase any final doubts away. "Lena," Kara's voice puffs out into the quiet of their closeness. Lena's hand drifts to brush a stray curl behind Kara's ear before answering, matching her reverent tone. "What is it, darling?" Kara's eyes slide open to take in the gaze fixed on her: Lena promising safety and trust trust with nothing but the vulnerability in her eyes and the press of her hand to Kara's chest, just over where her crest materializes. It's enough to set Kara's heart beating wildly in anticipation.

"I need to tell you something. We promised each other, no more secrets. And there's one more thing I need you to know before we try this again. Our friendship, or you know, us."

Kara can see Lena's response to her words and hesitated. Lena's shoulders immediately tensing and her mouth drawing into a tight line, fighting trembling lips. She places her hand over Lena's on her chest to keep her from pulling away preemptively and to draw the strength she needs for what may come next. "Kara, what-?" "Wait, please. It's not bad, well, I don't think so, it's just, um-" Kara stops to regroup her frantic thoughts.

"Just, um, let me say what I need to say. And, if you don't, you know, feel the same or want anything to change, then none of this will matter."

Lena relaxes minutely, squinting at Kara's phrasing in suspicion and confusion. She lets Kara hold her hand in place. Once she feels Lena's tension release enough to prove she's listening, Kara plunges into her speech.

"Lena, you are my best friend. One of the two most important people to me. When we were fighting," Kara sucks in a deep breath at the lingering pain of their separation. "that was one of the hardest years of my life. All this terrible stuff was happening, and my person, the one I go to when everything feels like its falling apart, was gone. You were gone. I could still hear you and see you, but I couldn't have you. You were gone, and it was all my fault."

Hot tears spill free from Kara's eyes. When Lena reaches up to wipe them away, Kara leans heavily into her warm palm.

"Kara, darling, it's okay. We've forgiven each other. You don't need to apologize again."

A soft laugh escapes Kara's lips before she turns her head to press a kiss to Lena's palm. She speaks into Lena's hand, too nervous to see what Lena's reaction will be to her next words.

"I'm not. I'm just being honest. I lied to you for years. Willfully. Cruelly. Because I was selfish and stupid and scared. Rao, I was so scared to lose you. So, I rationalized lying day after day because I knew you'd leave when I told you. I knew the moment I said the words, it was over. No matter what I did or said, I would lose you."

The apartment was silent but for Kara's sniffles and her overflowing words.

"I did lose you." The whisper carries a year's worth of pain and longing.

"But, me being Supergirl isn't the biggest thing I haven't told you."

Lena's sharp inhale draws a fresh panicked round of tears from Kara who holds tighter to Lena's hand on her chest and forges onward quickly.

"You have to understand why I haven't said anything. It's not that I haven't wanted to; it's all I can think about sometimes. Most days now. But I couldn't. How could I- it would've been-" Kara stops and looks at Lena again, to read the expectation and shock flaring behind her green eyes. "I had to be honest about who I am before I could be honest about how I feel."

Lena joins Kara now with the first of her own tears breaking free to run down her cheeks. Kara can hear the quickening pace of her heart and focuses on the sound.

"Lena, I met you, and my whole world changed. You didn't know me during my first year as Supergirl, didn't see the rage that I could barely control or the reckless way I threw myself at every enemy. I struggled. A lot. But you showed me that we aren't bound by our family's sins. That I could hope and change and-" Kara feels the weight of the word on the tip of her tongue, rolls it around in her head another second and tastes the letters as they spill out for Lena to catch or watch shatter on the ground. "love. I met you, and I realized how deeply and fully I can love. I've lost so much, so many people, and I tend to be very protective of the love I share. But, I've learned that, despite what I've lost, the pain and the loneliness, I can love with my entire self. With all of who I am. With my heart, my body, and my soul. All that I am; all that I've experienced and will experience, everything. I can love through it and find strength in those who love me."

It was now Kara's turn to gently brush the fallen tears from Lena's cheek, one hand still holding firmly to Lena's hand on her chest.

"I've been drawn to you from the first day we met and every day after. I've never been able to fight it. Never wanted to, even when we were on opposites sides. I could never quite see through my love for you. Alex used to find it extremely frustrating, but I think she's finally come around."

Their watery laughs mingle together.

"You asked me once if I knew anything about quantum entanglement. I may know more about it than I admitted. And since that day, I haven't been able to think of you in any other way. I love you, but it isn't just that I love you. I am tethered to you, pulled across the universe to orbit you. The true source of my strength. I am entwined with you on a molecular level and in my soul. My parents sent me here to save me and to protect Kal, but something more, something bigger, maybe Rao himself, brought me to you."

Kara carefully absorbs Lena's body language, her stillness and continued silence. She seems to barely be breathing in the wake of the confession. The only sign Kara has that Lena is still listening is the furious pounding of her heartbeat reverberating through Kara's ears. Normally, even moments ago, the steady rhythm calms Kara, so much that she would take to flying over L-Corp during the past year just to hear the familiar sound. But now it leaves her uncertain and nervous. She fills the empty charged air with rambling, too anxious to wait for Lena to resume her normal functioning.

"I understand you might not feel the same, and after everything, I don't blame you. I mean, I did lie and then call you a villain and treat you pretty bad, so yeah." Kara trails off, cringing at the less than stellar stream of words her mouth chose. "So, um, if you don't want anything to change, then it doesn't have to. It won't. We can keep being friends and having game nights and movie nights. And you can obviously stay here as long as you need. I just, um, needed you to know how I feel."

The tide was open, and Kara couldn't find the ability to lock the flood gates on her mouth. Tears begin a fresh descent in the wake of her expelled anxiety.

"And I feel that I love you. That I am in love with you. I am in love with you, Lena."

Salt brines her lips, and her tongue tastes the clinging mineral as it slides out to wet them. Lena remains stoically still in her position pressed to Kara and swimming in her own trickle of tears. Kara notes the slowing of them, the crystalline droplets that drip from her jaw to the floor. She watches Lena's lips part and the quick flicker of her green eyes over Kara's face, landing first on her own blue eyes, then her nose, her cheeks, the scar above her eyebrow, before settling lower on her trembling lips.

She can't stand the limbo, the electric deja vu and mixture of fear and hope.

"Lena, please say something."

In reflection, Kara knows the moment, the span of seconds between her plead and Lena's reaction, only lasted the length of a heartbeat. But in the beat between her words and Lena's movement, Kara felt the weight of every loss she's suffered, every end. And every beginning. Every beautiful Earth sunrise and blossoming friendship. Anticipation swelled painfully behind her ribcage, her heart preparing to drop or soar.

In that moment, Lena held more power over Kara than any amount of Kryptonite ever could. With one second she could either crush Kara beneath one more disappointment and loss, or she could fuel Kara more powerfully than the yellow sun.

Kara's throat tenses with choking tears as she opens her mouth to withdraw every word to ever steal its way past her lips, but Lena blocks any hasty retreat half-formed with her own lips pressing firmly against Kara's. She pushes forward, bumping their noses and pressing her body impossibly closer, their hands still trapped between the mingling beats of their hearts.

Locked and entwined. Entangled over an invisible crest.

When her lips meet Kara's, soft but sure and insistent, Kara's mind blissfully silences but for the rapid fire pleasure of feeling and Lena. The burning desire in her chest spreading through her limbs and begging for more. More skin, more lips, more pressure. More Lena. All around her, flooding her senses until there's nothing left but the two of them.

It's everything and more than she imagined. Her nose fills with nothing but the sweet perfume Lena wears daily, and the lavender undertones of her own conditioner in Lena's hair. For once, the world quiets in Kara's hypersensitive ears, condensed to the sighs escaping Lena's mouth as she leans further into their kiss. And it's the taste that leaves Kara dazed and desperate for the next kiss. The fruity wine clinging to Lena's tongue and the underlying taste that is distinctly Lena. Unlike anything Kara has ever tasted and addictive from the first touch of Lena's tongue to her own.

They remain in their embrace, erasing any space that crept between them during their fighting and time apart. Even after breaking for air and resting their foreheads together, reveling in one another, they stay close. Kara can't fight the broad smile stretching across her face, and she hears Lena's matching grin in her words, reverently whispered in their shared breaths.

"And I love you, Kara. All of you. Always."

AO3 link

#supergirl #supercorp #supercorp fic #kara danvers #lena luthor

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tartrazeen · 3 years

Text

Random HankCon Reverse AU Post

I wrote this on Discord some months back, and very luckily somebody fantastic helped me out by finding it! <3 <3 <3 The context was around the HK series already being a canonical type of android in the game: it's a housekeeper model, like the HK-400 Connor hunts down in his first investigation with Hank. So from that, everyone was discussing a reverse AU where Hank was an HK housekeeper, Connor was an overworked older brother taking care of his younger brother, and one of them was proposing that Connor just rent an HK to help around the house and take the load off. And from that, I came up with this roughly described - but still fun and angsty - concept. Picture reading it as I wrote it: mid-conversation, and butting in to slap this idea onto everyone. :D

Omg - Hank helping out enough in just a few ways by making lunch or something, or dinner for the next night, and Connor actually having time to go to sleep and spend time with both of them. Or Hank activating a Cranky Child Up Past His Bedtime protocol and making Connor go to bed, because the poor guy doesn't have an off-switch when every single case just needs a 'few more minutes' for him to crack it.

Connor having such a rough week that his little brother saves up cash from - pfft, I dunno, what's stupidly diabetically sweet enough for this - recycling beer bottles from around the neighbourhood, purely to rent Hank for Connor's sake AND THEN IT BECOMES LIKE SOME KINDA WEIRD-ASS DATE THAT NEITHER OF THEM SEEM TOO INTERESTED IN ENDING But then - then - they get into a bit of a routine like that. Connor's happy enough to rent Hank when his little brother needs him, but now it's grown into a... "Okay, fine, if I need him too, then that just helps both of us. That's okay." ... And then one day, his little brother's staying at a friend's house or something, and Connor's - just... bored? Lonely? Tired? He's not sure. But he flicks over to a website, sees Hank is available, and decides to rent Hank really just for himself. And it's the first time that's ever happened without a kid in the house or without Connor himself being too exhausted to function, so it officially becomes a weird-ass date of them hanging around. Maybe going outside to get air. Whatever happens. Now here's where I can draw upon some more IRL bullshit: water heater rentals. These things last ten years, you pay $40 a month to rent them, but at the end of the tenth year, you'd still have to pay to buy it out. And that - despite everything you pay - could still cost like $6,000. Even if you bought the thing outright, it would've cost $5,000.

I say that because I imagine Connor getting to the point where he's thinking... he might buy Hank. Whenever rental products go up for sale, there's usually a steep discount, so he thinks it won't cost too much. No one else rents Hank as much as he does anyway, and he's not sure how much he's spent, but surely that would knock the price down. He's still very much trying to think of this as a practical transaction to manage the purchase of a machine, after all. Except Connor is the one asking to buy Hank. The company isn't offering. So the sticker shock at the price is - just... unbelievable. To the point that Connor very much regrets even opening his mouth. And the nanny company says it's that or they throw Hank out, because - just the IRL - they can't be seen selling Hank cheaper or giving him away when they're done with him, or they'd never make any money. "People would just wait until he's thrown out and go dumpster diving." So now we have a ticking clock and Connor has a bill to pay. We could do two things from here: 1) Connor gets the money (spoiler). It isn't easy. He's already doing all the overtime he's allowed because he's volunteered for it - he can't afford to let something like sleep get in the way of catching a murderer - so he's making the most that he can. He doesn't have any vacation or sick days to cash in because he's used them all whenever he's burnt out; that's probably why he looked into getting Hank in the first place. And it's not like he has time to get a second job or anything. It's his little brother that asks, "Do we really need a car?"

So they both start selling everything. They don't really need a crappy couch. This table's been wobbly since day one. A garage full of crap that is coated in dust and grime is just enough to get them over the edge of it. And it's a weird feeling, bringing a nanny-bot back to an almost empty house. Connor might comment on how there'd be a lot less to clean, which is bullshit, but the best he can in defence of it all. So Hank takes it for what it is, slowly appreciating exactly what this meant for all of three of them. It's an empty house that's quickly become a full home. 2) Connor doesn't get the money (yesssssssssssss) Because there's just no way to pay that. It's ridiculous - even if he could afford it, he should still be arresting these people, because this is an obvious robbery. He can't make that last leap to admit this is more than a machine to help around the house, and the company - just... "Okay. You have three days to change your mind if you're interested." His little brother tries to get him to. He asks if Connor can just sell the car. Not only is that a bad idea, because how else is Connor going to get to work, but who's going to pay that much for it anyway? It's not worth it, Hank is a walking piece of plastic programmed to be friendly, and if they need a nanny-bot so bad, they can buy a new one for a third of what the rental company is charging. On the second-last day, his little brother tries the ol' "Rent Hank for Connor's sake" trick. It's a last-ditch effort to get Connor to admit that they would all feel awful losing Hank, machine or not. He's real enough to them, right? Wrong. Plastic. Money. Facts. Connor's more pissed that his little brother wasted more cash that could've gone towards paying a price they would never be able to afford anyway, and walks off to let his little brother hang out with the android for a last night. He doesn't want to draw this out for himself, and Hank had better be gone by the time Connor comes home.

Connor doesn't do much. He mostly just walks around for hours. And for way too long - eventually, he's at a park, and there's Hank emerging from the snow (oh yeah, it's snowing) to gently wait there in silence. That goes on for long enough for Connor to accept that he's going to miss Hank. It's a short conversation, and Hank's used the Cranky Kid protocol for Connor to know to start heading back, but that's all Connor says: "We'll miss you, I guess. Thanks." Hank is gone by the time Connor wakes up. The house is quiet, his little brother has his breakfast, and Connor has his lunch made. And that is what really gets to him. Hank - over and above his programming - once again took care of Connor, too. Those walls that were already dropping finally drop the rest of the way, and knowing perfectly well that he's too late, he calls the rental company up to ask if there's a payment plan or some extension or anything he can do to keep Hank. There is! Fortunately! And if Connor would like to arrange that for any of these other rental androids, the company can certainly help. What about Hank? Well, this is a business. They had a deadline and costs around that deadline, so they couldn't keep waiting around forever in the hopes that some family changed their mind about buying a standard android. It's unfortunate, but yes, Hank was appropriately disposed of. Would Connor like to buy another android that looks like Hank instead? Connor hangs up before they can give him the full sales pitch. His little brother notices. His work notices. Everyone notices that Connor's different lately. He's reached an almost terrifying level of laser focus on his work. He has all the time he wants to catch all the bad guys he feels like, and he does because who's going to stop him, really? And it goes like that while his little brother keeps asking for Connor to rent a different android, or to just buy one that's like Hank. On and on and on and on and on and on and on until Connor finally just loses it, dumps his phone on the ground, tells his brother to do whatever the hell he wants so long as he shuts up, and storms back out. He's out there for hours in the cold, half to spite Hank's memory - that he's become painfully reliant on for reasons he ascribes to guilt - and half because he knows it's not only guilt he's feeling. Everything tingles. His fingers, his nose, his ears, and he's at least considering going home to his car so he can warm up without having to do a walk-of-shame back inside. He's saving that for when his brother's asleep. This is roughly a minute before he notices Hank walking out in the snow. Not Hank. Not exactly. It's another android that looks like Hank, and that jolt in Connor's chest twists into a searing ache again. He's changed his mind and he's out here entirely for spite now, because his little brother must've called his bluff and rented another nanny and sent him to drag Connor home.

He's committed to that until Hank mentions the number of times Connor's tried to fight him on going to bed, and the grand total of zero times that Hank's lost this fight. Hank's very good at this. He's had to deal with a lot of rough families and teenagers. Hank remembers that because each family has a profile saved based on every visit: preferences, schedules, the kids' needs, memories... They've always been backed up. It's a business, after all. It takes Connor a few minutes to get it. He's still trying to decide if this android is real or not, let alone... his Hank. And Hank is perfectly willing to keep coming back to convince him. And he will, every time, for as long as Connor keeps a copy of his memories. ... But it is going to be after Connor is in bed. Connor's never been happier to get dragged away, kicking at this 1.98m cuddle-bear the whole time.

#dbh #detroit become human #hankcon #hannor #hank x connor #reverse au #angst #fluff #rough draft #ripped straight from discord #my stuff #good job tartra

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elduwrites · 3 years

Text

Reminders That I Love You - Chapter 3

“Don’t be a brat.” Cas tugged his hair again. It was harder this time and lasted until a small moan escaped Dean’s lips. Then the contact was gone. Damn. He usually had more control than that. But they had been very busy, and angry with each other, lately. This was a welcome change of pace.

“Anyway, I believe in you.” Cas grinned. “Now be quiet, I need to concentrate on my work.”

Also available on AO3

Word count: 4916 (story total: 7603)

Chapter 3/3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

When Cas returned, Dean laid naked in the middle of the bed, legs spread and hands beneath his head. He grinned up at his boyfriend who stopped in the doorway for a while, just starring at him.

“See something you like?” Dean asked, letting his tongue dart over his bottom lip for good measure.

“Yes, you’re very beautiful Dean,” Cas replied matter-of-factly. Then he walked closer, keeping his eyes plastered to the man on the bed the entire time. “And you’re being very good for me.”

“Not like you asked me to do anything complicated.” Dean looked away, lightly biting his lip. He wanted to be good, especially after the evening they had, but he had to earn it.

“The complexity of the task does not dictate how pleased I am when you succeed,” Cas said sternly as he sat down on the bed, leaning over the other man. “Some days I want you to prove just how good you can be for me. Today is not about that. For now, I want to remind you how wonderful you always are to me Dean. Even when you don’t see your own worth.”

“What if I want, or need, to prove that I can be good for you?” His voice was small even to his own ears, but it needed to be said.

“Then that’s for another day.”

“But-”

“No,” Cas said firmly. “On Saturday I will have you collared on your knees with my cock in your mouth while I research my next paper, but I have a different plan for tonight. Are you going to be a brat and question my decisions, or will you be still and obedient like my good boy ought to?”

Dean swallowed hard, but kept his lips closed. Saturday could not come soon enough. But Cas knew what he needed, and what he could take. If he said that this wasn’t the day for proper play, then he was right. Of course he was. Dean looked up, meeting the others gaze and held it until his boyfriend smiled.

“Good,” Cas said. He ran one hand through Dean’s hair, tugging slightly before letting go. Dean leaned into the touch, whimpering slightly as it disappeared. “Remember these?” Cas pulled a bunch of pens out of his pocket. Except, these weren’t normal pens. They were the temporary tattoo markers they had bought for when Claire was desperate to draw on them. Cas had insisted that they were better for their skin than regular pens, and their niece was overjoyed with the vibrant colors that were much easier to cover their arms with.

“I remember,” Dean replied. How could he not? The guys at work always commented on his wonderful new tattoos whenever Claire had spent an artistic weekend at their place. They were rather hard to wash off too. Not that he really minded that part, it was usually a nice reminder of a good family weekend.

“I presumed you would. Now you’re going to lay back, relax, and stay as still as possible, while I cover your skin in all the reasons I love you.”

“Kinda hard both to relax and stay still,” Dean said. Mostly just to say something back to that declaration.

“Anyway, I believe in you.” Cas grinned. “Now be quiet, I need to concentrate on my work.”

Dean took a few deep breaths, relaxing into the mattress as well as he could. Meanwhile, his boyfriend’s big hands ran down his chest, barely grazing his nipples, down his stomach and up his sides. He whimpered again, pushing up into the touch. Why had he denied himself this closeness for so long? Those hands on him were better than almost any sensations. Perhaps except for those fingers in him.

“So beautiful,” Cas said, leaving a small kiss slightly under his left nipple. It was followed by the familiar sensation of the marker on Dean’s skin. Familiar, but still different than when their niece was ‘making him pretty’ as she liked to call it. Cas’ hand seemed surer and less hesitant than Claire often was. And the skin of his sides and stomach was more sensitive than his arms and calves, which were usually the body parts decorated. As the pen stopped its motion, Dean looked down his body. Sure enough, the word beautiful was written in red over one of his ribs.

“Incredibly kind.” Cas left a kiss under the first word, then wrote with a new pen over that same spot. Soon the word kind shone out in orange letters.

“You’re so good with Claire, Madison and little Bobby. The best uncle and godfather anyone could wish for.” Another scribble over his skin. Dean focused on keeping his breathing even so as not to disrupt the others work. When he looked down again, amazing uncle, was written in bright yellow.

Another kiss, halfway down his side, then. “You’re so open and accepting of everyone who need it. I’ve never seen you judge anyone for anything other than being hateful assholes. And those people always deserve it.” The pen moved over his skin once more. As it stopped, Cas moved his hand to squeeze his hip lightly. Dean squinted at the newest word. It looked like it said accepting in deep green letters.

“Dude, are you making my stomach into a fucking rainbow?” Dean asked incredulously, while his boyfriend put down the green marker in favor of a blue one.

“Why are you surprised by this? I make everything into rainbows.” That much was true. After years of hiding his sexuality from overly religious parents, Cas had put all that repressed energy into buying and creating rainbow colored-everything. There were at least seven different flags, and far too many t-shirts. They had rainbow-colored throw pillows in many different designs, and a shower curtain decorated with a tree with rainbow leaves. There were rainbow coasters, cups, water bottles, and at least fifty different buttons and stickers. Everything Cas painted these days were either rainbow inspired, bees, flowers, or, somehow, all of the above. Dean had barely kept him from hanging up rainbow curtains in their living room. That shit was just tacky, and therefore banished to Cas’ office. The office that contained a stuffed rainbow unicorn next to the stuffed bee on top of the bookshelf. Not to mention the queer section of that bookshelf that had the books sorted by rainbow colors. So okay, this was not actually surprising. Still though…

“Don’t mean you have to make me into one.”

“Why does it bother you more that I’m writing in color that that I’m doing it in the first place? You seem to have your priorities mixed up sweetheart.”

“I dunno… It’s just real obvious is all.” That was a bad excuse. He was aware of that. It just felt different in all these colors than it would have otherwise. Even so, his boyfriend was right. It didn’t actually matter. So why’d it feel like a big deal?

“It’s not like anyone else is going to see you this way. Right Dean?”

“Of course not.” It was far too cold for him to go shirtless anywhere other than inside their house. And even during summer, he preferred to wear at least a t-shirt. Only Cas got to see him shirtless for long periods of time.

“Then why does it matter? I like you like this.”

“I dunno.” Dean looked away, biting lightly at his lip. It was hard to argue his point when he didn’t actually have any reasoning, and Cas was all cold logic. The rainbow thing wasn’t a problem either. Not really. He was just caught off guard was all. But there was no way he could admit that now.

“Do you know what I think?” Cas moved so his knees where on the other side of the other’s hips, rested his hands next to Dean’s head, and leant down so their faces were mere inches apart. “I think you’re trying to rile me up. I think you’re being difficult on purpose. This,” he ran his right hand down Dean’s side, stroking over the words, “doesn’t actually bother you. You’re just clinging to the only argument you could find because affectionate words make you uncomfortable. Perhaps you’re even angling for a punishment?”

Dean whimpered lightly at that. Trust his boyfriend to psychoanalyze him in a situation like this. As if they didn’t have better things to do than trying to get to the bottom of his issues. His fear of intimacy as both Cas and Charlie was so fond of calling it. This was not the time.

“Is that it Dean? Are you trying to make me be rough with you because that’s easier to deal with? Would you rather have me spank you till you’re a writhing mess or perhaps slap you hard enough that you’ll feel it for days?”

“Please.” He wasn’t sure what he was asking for, but his boyfriend seemed to have enough ideas of his own. As long as Cas gave him something.

“Too bad really, that I already told you we’re not doing that tonight.”

“Cas. Please.”

“I’m not changing my plans just because you’re being a brat,” Cas almost growled. “However, I can’t let that kind of behavior go completely unchecked either.”

“Please.” Dean repeated. By now it could be called pleading, almost begging. His boyfriend usually liked that, was more likely to fulfill his wishes when he asked nicely. But it didn’t seem like he was budging this time. His expression was blank, not betraying any of his thoughts. Would whatever he was planning be good or bad? Well, it was always good with Cas, but sometimes that also meant torturous. Then again, that was often the best of all.

Cas suddenly sat up until he was kneeling over him. Then he ran his hands slowly down the other’s shoulders and chest, stopping to pay extra attention to his nipples. Dean swallowed the groan that wanted to erupt as both his nipples were pinched hard.

“Don’t be quiet on my account,” Cas said, pinching even harder. Then he let go off the left one, only to bend down and bite it. Dean moaned, arching his back into the pleasure-pain sensation.

“There you go. Keep making those pretty sounds for me,” Cas grinned down at him before leaning in to capture his lips in a rough kiss. Dean quickly opened up for him, allowing his boyfriend to dominate his mouth completely. As the kiss broke off, Cas moved so sit next to him on the bed again, one hand resting comfortingly on his stomach. Dean put weight on his elbows, wanting to follow, but one sharp look from the other man made him rest back onto the bed. That earned him a soft smile and a gentle hand playing with his hair.

“Touch yourself for me,” Cas said, giving a significant gaze down to the others cock, then back up to his eyes. Dean starred at him for a moment before he followed the order, slowly jacking himself off. This seemed too simple. Was this evening really all about pleasure? And affection or whatever?

“Faster. Put some effort into it.”

Dean fastened his grip and speed his movement to a pace that would have him desperate in no time.

“Good boy,” Cas murmured into his ear. “Tell me when you’re close.”

Oh. Of course. Dean closed his eyes, jerking himself in all the ways he enjoyed the most. Firm grip. Fast movements. A twist of his wrist on every third or fourth upstroke. Pausing for a moment to run his thumb over the slit, coaxing more pre-cum to ease his movements. He was hurdling steadily towards an orgasm, feeling his boyfriend’s heavy gaze on him the entire time.

“’M close,” he moaned out.

“Stop. Hands on the bed.”

Dean quickly followed the order, breathing hard as he tried to calm down. He whimpered sightly at the receding orgasm. It was so close, but far out of his grasp.

“So good for me,” Cas murmured, then leaned down to kiss his stomach. “I love seeing you like this. So desperate to please.”

Dean smiled, relaxing further into the bed. He was still on edge, desperate for release, but it seemed somehow less important. He was pleasing Cas, and his boyfriend would surely take care of him.

A sudden feeling of a marker over his skin almost made him flinch, but he managed to stay still as not to mess up the other man’s work. Peering down, he saw his boyfriend with a blue marker in hand, obviously continuing where he had left off earlier.

“Cas? What?”

“You didn’t think I was done, did you? I already told you I wasn’t changing my plans. I don’t like leaving my projects half-finished.”

“I guess not.” It certainly had seemed like he’d changed his plans. Dean really should have known better. When Cas first made up his mind, he stuck to it. He peered down at his stomach, seeing desperate to please written under the green accepting.

“Dean. Look at me.” Cas laid a hand on his cheek and starred intently at him as their eyes met. “Indulge me in this. Let me show you affection. You deserve to be loved.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean tried to look away, but the other’s eyes were captivating, holding his gaze steady. “Indulge yourself or whatever.”

“Imprudent boy,” Cas smacked his hip lightly. “I want to worship you, just let yourself enjoy it.” With that he picked up a purple marker, putting the tip of it against the skin right above Dean’s hipbone.

“You deserve to be loved,” Cas repeated while writing what was probably the same words into the other’s skin. Dean barely suppressed a shiver as those words finally washed over him. How many times had Cas told him that by now? And how many more times had he found himself doubting it?

“Now continue touching yourself.”

Dean’s hand moved almost on autopilot, wrapping around his cock and jacking it with sure movements. He kept his eyes open this time, taking in all the emotion in his boyfriend’s eyes. No one could convey emotion through a look quite like Cas. And he was using that ability now to express all the love he insisted that Dean deserved. It was enough to make a guy believe him.

Pleasure built up within him even faster this time around. He jerked off until he was moments away from orgasm before he moaned out that he was close.

“Stop.”

His movement stilled immediately, but he clutched the base of his cock for a few deep breaths before he was calm enough to place his hand back on the bed. Perhaps even closer than Cas would have taken him if the former had been doing the touching.

“You’re doing remarkably well.” Cas left a kiss to each of his cheeks and the tip of his nose. Dean whimpered in return, struggling to keep himself from pleading for release. He really needed to come. Preferable five minutes ago. Instead, his boyfriend took up the red marker again, and started writing on the right side of his stomach. Dean couldn’t find the energy to read the words anymore, but it was impossible to ignore the several times Cas murmured “good boy” into his skin while he kissed around the new words. In return, Dean let out an undignified sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan. He was being good.

“Yes. Good boy with his pleasing sounds.” Cas smiled down at him, while stroking over his stomach in small circles. “And you are so good to everyone Dean. You care so much. I’m in awe of the love you show to all the people around you. Such a wonderful, caring man.” There were more pen scratches and kisses against Dean’s stomach. This time he simply breathed through it, letting the words and affectionate touches wash over him.

“Not to mention the love you put into your food. Before you, I mostly ate just to sustain myself. Now I do it for pleasure as well. You taught me that through your food, you’re such an amazing cook Dean.” More writing on his skin. More fingers tracing patterns on his stomach. More kisses to his side and chest, followed by a sharp bite to one nipple. He arched into it, chasing the mouth as it moved away. His boyfriend chuckled and pushed him back down with a flat hand on the middle of his stomach.

“Touch yourself again.”

He did. With fast strokes, spurred on by the hands exploring his body. Every time Cas pinched his skin or twisted a nipple, he moaned loudly. All the touches went straight to his dick, and within a couple of minutes he was writhing on the bed, barely able to contain the orgasm.

“’M so close. Please Cas.”

“Stop. Now.”

His movements stopped, but he looked pleadingly up at the other man. “Please Cas. I can’t… I need to come.”

“Patience sweetheart. You can wait. And you will.”

Dean whimpered again, but kept his mouth shut. There was no use arguing with Cas’ decisions. He had made that mistake in a similar position once before. That night he was not allowed to come at all. Taking several deep breaths calmed him enough to remove his hand, and finally look up at his boyfriend once more.

“Good boy. Now, where were we?” Cas looked down at his writing, tracing the words with a gentle finger. At that point, even the small gesture was enough to push Dean towards the edge. He shook with self-restraint, clutching the sheets hard and focusing on his breathing.

“Oh yes,” Cas continued in an even voice. “You, Dean Winchester, is one of the most selfless people I have ever met. You give so much of yourself to others. You say yes to helping out whenever the chance occurs, with no regard for how it will affect you. Every fiber of your being seems determined to change the world for the better. Your selflessness was one of the first things I noticed about you.”

“You’re way too articulate,” Dean half-moaned, earning him another chuckle. Then the pen was back, tracing over his skin. Followed by warm lips, copying the pattern of the letters. Every point of contact sent tingles through his already over-sensitive body, forcing small sounds of out him.

“You keep me grounded and sane. I’ve spent so much of my life with my head in the clouds, not really wanting to partake in the world around me. You changed that by showing me how good reality can be. I want to experience real life with you Dean.”

The statement was followed by more pen scratches, then kisses to his stomach, up his chest, and then peppering his face. Dean whimpered, lifting one hand to clutch at the others arm. A tear found his its way down his cheek, but was soon kissed away. It was all too much.

“Shhhh, just one more thing now,” Cas murmured into his skin. “You are doing so well for me.” Their lips met in a long, soft kiss that swallowed all the sounds coming out of Dean’s throat. Then Cas moved to write a last word on his stomach with slow, steady movement. As the pen disappeared, one hand traced all the words on his torso while his boyfriend left three small kisses to his stomach, chest, and forehead.

“Do you want to know what it says?” Cas asked, his lips curling into a smirk. Dean inclined his head in a way that was meant to be a nod. Apparently it was enough, as his boyfriend continued. “It says excellent cocksucker. The things you do with your mouth are downright sinful.” Dean almost chocked on air at those words, and his lips fell open of their own accord. Cas took the opportunity to push two long fingers into his mouth.

“Suck.” That was a command he didn’t really need. Closing his lips around anything Cas put between them was second nature by now. His boyfriend had a borderline obsession with that part of his body. Not that Dean would ever complain. It fit perfectly with his own love of having his mouth filled. Oral fixation Cas sometimes called it, his voice always filled with awe or deep pleasure. “Now touch yourself.”

He was slower to follow the command this time, more focused on the fingers pushing slowly in and out of his mouth. Even so, his entire body lit up with pleasure as his hand wrapped around his dick. It only took a few pumps before he was back on edge again. Cas was tugging at his hair and moving his fingers steadily faster and harder into his mouth. Dean almost gagged a few times, but forced himself to relax. The pleased expression on his boyfriend’s face was more than worth it. Pleasure built with every jerk of his hand, and every movement of Cas’ fingers. He was hurdling towards an orgasm, and this time it didn’t feel like he could stop. Moaning around the fingers, he tried to say that he was close, but it came out as a garbled mess. Fuck. He was so close, but he didn’t have permission to come. And he didn’t have permission to stop jerking off. Starring up, he tried to convey his desperation, tried to plead with his eyes. It was hard to focus on anything else than delaying his orgasm, the world seeming hazy around him. As such, he didn’t notice Cas’ face coming closer until a dark voice whispered into his ear.

“Come for me Dean.”

Two more jerks of his hand and he did just that. The orgasm tore through him, almost making him black out. His whole body convulsed in pleasure as cum coated his stomach. It was so good. Cas always made it better than he managed by himself. Even when he technically was doing all the work himself. He kept jerking in slow movements, drawing out the orgasm while he slowly came back to himself. Soon he grew oversensitive, but kept up the movement until strong fingers wrapped around his own and dragged his hand away. He sighed in relief and pure exhaustion, blinking up at the man above him.

“Hello Dean,” Cas murmured with a pleased smile. “You did perfectly for me.” Dean blushed at that, looking away. That only earned him slightly annoyed sound from the man above him before his face was peppered with kisses. “One day you will believe my praise.”

“One day yeah. Maybe.”

“You will. I intend to remind you of it as often as necessary until you do.” The statement was followed up with more soft kisses to Dean’s face, and a hand carting through his hair. Sighing contently, he leaned into that touch. This was, possibly, his favorite part. Cas was always so affectionate after sex. All soft touches and endless skin-to-skin contact. And like this, during the afterglow, Dean allowed himself to drown in it. Except, they weren’t both basking in the afterglow. With more effort than he was ready to admit, he lifted a hand up to Cas’ hip, squeezing lightly.

“Want me to get you off too?” He asked with a grin, eyes slowly drifting down the others body.

“Not tonight. I already got all I wanted.” He did this every once in a while. Actually, he did it rather often. As if he got more pleasure from getting Dean off than actually having an orgasm of his own. It wasn’t anything Dean could pretend like he understood, but Cas surely knew his own wants best. He was certainly direct enough about shoving his cock down the others throat when he felt like it.

“You’re sure?” Dean met the other’s gaze again, searching for any shred of indecision there.

“Yes Dean. I just wanted to watch you come apart. I might, however, fuck you in the morning.”

“Yeah. Okay. Awesome.” He grinned again, probably looking dopey as hell, as he relaxed back into the bed again. This time determined to stay put. Everything was right with the world again. Well, except for the rapidly drying pool of cum on his stomach, but that was a problem for future-Dean. That guy had energy for all sorts of things.

“I’ll get a washcloth,” Cas said as he stood up from the bed. Because he was freaking perfect. Dean told him as much, causing a fond smile to appear on his boyfriend’s face. Cas’ hand found his, giving one last squeeze as he started to turn away. Pain flared from Dean’s knuckles at the contact, making him flinch. His boyfriend froze at that, starring down at him.

“Dean? What?” Cas dragged his hand close, inspecting the tender area closely. His face turned from confused to worried, eyes scrunching up in familiar fashion. Dean looked at the hand as well. Now that they gave it attention, it was obvious that it was red and slightly swollen. A miracle that it hadn’t been noticed before. “Dean what happened?”

“Umm… I got into a fight with the shower wall.” The last thing he needed was for his boyfriend to blame this on himself. Sure, it happened because Dean was angry about their fight, but that was on him. Neither of them needed Cas to deal with any misplaced guilt over that.

“You got into a fight with the shower wall,” Cas repeated slowly.

��Not my finest moment.”

“Dean,” Cas sighed. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

“I know.”

“You can’t hurt yourself just because we fight.”

“I know.”

“Next time you decided to fight an inanimate object, please make it a verbal match. That one you at least have a chance to win.”

“That’s uncalled for.” Dean tried to scold his face into annoyed, but couldn’t keep a smile from breaking out. Apparently Cas was not in a lecturing, or self-hating, mood. This was going much better than expected.

“You know I’m right.” Cas smiled lightly, then looked more serious again. “Does it hurt?”

“Nothing I can’t handle man.”

“Dean.”

“Yeah. A bit.”

“Okay.” Cas nodded solemnly, then put his hand down and turned towards the door. “Wait here.” With that, he left the room, leaving Dean to study his knuckles. They didn’t look that bad really. He’d damaged them much worse on several occasions, but he’d mostly outgrown that part of his life. That was a teenage and early-to-mid-twenties thing. Which was probably why they looked more painful than they really should, they were no longer hardened by abuse. Or maybe he’d just hit that wall harder than intended. He shook his head lightly and laid the hands back on the bed. It didn’t matter now anyway. With a yawn, he closed his eyes, making himself more comfortable.

He was almost asleep when Cas returned, so he just grunted noncommittedly as a greeting. Sleep seemed more important than anything. Until a bag of freaking ice was dropped on his knuckle. His eyes flew open, and he starred down at the offending item. His boyfriend gave him an amused glance as he placed an ice bag on his other knuckle as well. Okay, they weren’t actually ice bags. When Dean looked closer, he saw they it was frozen peas partly packed into a dish towel. That didn’t change the fact that they felt like big bags of ice.

“Why?” He grunted, giving the pea bags a dirty look.

“Because you refuse to take care of yourself, so someone has to.” He couldn’t exactly argue with that. Instead he sighed, watching as Cas took a warm washcloth to his stomach, wiping off all the dried cum.

“You’re really confusing my senses here.”

“Sorry sweetheart.” Cas gave him a quick kiss to his forehead, before throwing the washcloth towards a corner, turning off the light, and getting into bed. Moving around with the freaking pea bags was complicated, but his boyfriend was efficient as always when cuddling was involved. Soon their legs were tangled, a comforter pulled over them, and Cas had an arm around his waist and head resting between his chest and shoulder.

“I’m glad you came back,” Dean murmured into the darkness, half-hoping the other wouldn’t hear him. Of course, he had no such luck.

“Me too. And Dean?”

He hummed lightly in response.

“I promise to be better at reminding you how much I love you. Maybe even stop walking out every time our fights get too intense. But you have to stop pushing me away.”

“Yeah I…. Fuck, I’m sorry Cas. I’ll do my best.” He took a deep breath, starring into the darkness of the room. “And I love you too. You know that, right?”

“I do. Most of the time.”

“Well I love you all the time,” Dean insisted, then gave his boyfriend an awkwardly placed kiss on his forehead. It seemed like he had to get better at those reminders too. He looked into nothing for several long minutes while Cas’ breathing turned heavy, soon making way for soft snores. Shaking off one of the pea bags, Dean circled an arm around his boyfriend, holding him close as sleep finally took him as well.

#destiel #destiel fic #eldu writes #finally finished this thing #minors dni

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my-watch-begins · 3 years

Text

Drawing.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader.

Warnings: strong language, mentions of intrusive thoughts, pre-FATWS.

Words: 3.1 k.

a/n: had to get this idea out of my head.

Gif not mine! Credits to the author.

This is new for me.

Everything was new for Bucky, not only the clothes, the mannerisms, the people, the food, the neighborhood... Ever since his stay in Wakanda, his pardon and his current stay in his beloved Brooklyn, he was having trouble with basic human interactions. He'd been told he stared at people too much, he had a severe case of resting bitch face, and not only sometimes he couldn't be bothered with people's bullshit, people didn't put any effort in relationships these days.

He could count with one hand the amount of people that weren't on their phone as they had a coffee or "brunch" whatever that was. Even kids, three years old had their eyes glued to a screen that was already prog... No, don't think of that word.

He shakes his head to get rid of the train of thoughts he's sure it's coming, gloved fingers run through his hair and he sighs.

Programed, brainwashed, controlled, fuck.

He's about to storm the cafeteria, he's feeling his heart swell up in his chest. He's suddenly forgotten every single piece of advice his therapist has given him in order to keep his intrusive thoughts away. He's going to leave his cup of coffee only touched once, but in an effort to look around for the exit, his eyes land on something different, a person on the table in front of him.

The woman sitting just at the edge of a booth, in front of her is a notepad tilted in front of her, he watches mesmerized as she glides the pencil from one side of the sheet to the other, then a few more followed.

He feels his breathing start to wind down, his eyes moving with the pencil and he sees the headshot of a person come through.

His eyes leave the paper just enough to look up at her, her profile peaking from a curtain of hair. He watches as she carefully tucks her hair behind her ear, revealing a pair of headphones latched to her ear.

She sighs and purses her lip, now Bucky's eyes drop down to the drawing as she erases a few things off. He's so entranced with the way her fingers hold the pencil he felt something shiver in his body when she grabbed a fountain pen and scribbled down a signature at the bottom.

Now he sits behind her almost every day, his arms are crossed on the table as he watches her draw portrait after portrait of the patrons in the café. Sometimes she gives them the drawings, he notices she spends too much time on so many lively details, her talent amazes him. The ones she doesn't give away she stores in a notebook.

The notebook she has used to be a simple one, now it's covered in colors, stickers, and it's so thick it doesn't close completely, things stick out of it in all directions, he can see different textures of papers, ribbons, photos. He's seen her close it as she stores the drawings that aren't of people, and he's seen her stroke the front of it at the spot where a picture has been taped to the cover.

He also saw when one day she bolted after receiving a message, leaving the notebook laying in the seat of the booth next to where she used to be.

He picked it up and walked in quick strides to catch up with her and give it back, but she was lost in the sea of people before he could.

Bucky took it back to his place, fighting an internal battle to not open it and peak throught it, a battle he lost after hours of staring at it.

It was incredible how much a simple book could tell about someone's personality. He'd learned her name, your name, drawing was just a hobby, you actually had a job and friends you hung out with, several polaroids of the lot of you were kept between the pages, some of them thrown in there haphazardly, some stapled to not get lost.

The notebook was actually an agenda, had days numbered, to-do lists, schedules, mundane things, but also mementos to remember events, little post-it notes scribbled with things like "was praised at work, celebrate with some chocolate", and at the beginning of the week you'd write things you were grateful for. He felt a little something when he saw you'd written "my boyfriend" on the list to be grateful for, but was surprised when he saw a full page had been cleared up and written with a red marker across the page celebrating your break-up with said boyfriend. From there onwards the pages were fuller, you'd gotten a promotion, had more nights out, had a vacation. Whoever this ex boyfriend of yours was, he was definitely holding you back, then the drawings started. You would also write down some thoughts and feelings about the day that had passed, but he didn't linger too much on those notes.

He felt his chest tighten when he saw one of your pencil portraits of Steve's face in his helmet on the page that was the fourth of july, you'd written a long appreciation letter to Steve... Well, to Captain America really.

He couldn't keep going after that. He closed it and left it on the island counter.

Bucky didn't arrive before you the next day, he was hoping he at least got a few minutes to himself to figure out how he was going to approach you, but as soon as he walked in he saw you in your usual booth, head low, your fingers tracing the sides of the coffee mug in front of you. He scanned your face, noticing your puffed up eyes and red nose, your head hanging low and cheek propped against your closed fist.

The lost of the journal had definitely taken your sleep that night, he didn't want to accentuate your grief any longer, so he walked decided until he was standing next to you.

"Excuse me" he said, the journal clutched by one of his hands and pressed to his chest.

You lifted your gaze, your eyes scanning his quickly before they fell to your precious notebook.

Your face dropped in realitization and moved your legs to the side to stand up.

"You dropped it yesterday".

You stared at it dumbfounded, he thrusted it forwards and you instantly took it, your fingers going through the pages.

He smiled to the side when he saw your shoulders drop along with a heavy sigh of relief. You clutched the journal to your chest and bit your lower lip.

"Oh my god" you sighed as you looked up at him "thank you so much for picking it up"

"It's no problem" he dismissed with a wave of his hand.

"At least let me buy you a coffee" you turned around to grab your bag and swung it to your shoulder.

"You don't have to"

"Yes, I do" you pressed your hand to his bicep and lead him to the empty counter, one of the baristas approached you quickly and gave you two a smile "what are you having?" You beckoned him with a motion to the barista.

He definitely didn't plan to have breakfast with you that morning, but there he was, drinking some insipid tasting coffee and looking at you cut an obnoxiously big pastry you'd bought to share.

"What's this thing called?" He asked, looking at the swirl of pastry and something's brown in between, he saw you eat it peeling the external layers of it, your mouth forming a little smirk as you glanced at him.

"It's a cinnamon roll"

He grabbed it and inspected it, taking a big bite out of if.

You smiled and shook your head, your fingers finding your notebook and storing it safely in your purse.

"I hope you don't mind, I peaked through it last night" he admitted, you purses your lower lip forward and shook your head, peeling another layer of roll to eat.

"I don't mind, there's nothing interesting in it"

"There's some art" you chuckled suddenly, your eyebrows twisting.

"That's a strong word, I wouldn't consider it art"

"I would, I've seen you draw, you're very talented"

"You've seen me draw?" You inquired, tilting your head up and pulling a smirk when Bucky dodged your gaze and stammered.

"I- well" he joined his hands on too of the tale and intertwined his fingers, kicking himself for having blurted out something that made him look like a creep "yeah, once"

He reluctantly turned to look at you again, finding you staring back at him with little smile.

"I'll draw you, as a thank you gift" he saw you fish your notepad and a little pencil case.

"You don't have to" you gave him a little smile and your eyes narrowed, taking one pencil out of your case.

"It would be my pleasure" you lifted your pencil next to you, Bucky looked at it and gave you a good angle to start.

You began drawing the same starting point for every portrait you did, but you could instantly read some discomfort in his face, so once you had a good base you stood from your seat and walked to his side of the booth, motioning at him with your hand.

"Scoot". Bucky obliged, moving on the booth enough to let you sit comfortably next to him.

"I don't think you can draw me like this"

He saw you eyebrow twitch upwards and a little smile sneaked from your lips.

"You'll be surprised" you began by the general shape of his face, your own head tilting to the sides as you traced the lines of his jaw "I didn't want you to feel observed" you explained "I know what it's like to be on the other side of someone's notebook"

"Yeah, well, at least you're not judging" it was his turn to murmur in a complaining manner.

You continued, only stealing glances of him when you needed to double check if you were getting things right. During your time drawing you'd hiked up your leg on the seat and spent so much time getting every single twist and turn of his forehead, the creases of his eyes. You'd also felt him inch closer and closer as time went by, his arm propped up on the back of the booth and just on the back of your head.

"You spend so much time of little details" he mentioned. You didn't know if it was a comment or a complaint.

You glanced at him unsure of how to answer.

"Well, I'm usually listening to music and getting carried away by things like-" you motioned at the side of his face "that scar you've got there and how you got it and-" you continued, tracing one by one his eyelashes "the story behind the creases of your eyes and who made you frown so much that now you've got this permanent furrow in between your eyebrows"

"I have annoying friends" you smiled at the answer, giving finishing strokes to the little hairs that stubbornly fell from his clean haircut.

You left your pad on the table and moved around it to grab the bag you'd left on your previous side, revolving it's insides to find a stack of color pencils tied with an elastic band.

"You're going to color it?" He asked, seeing you pull out only three colors.

"No, just your eyes" you sat back and took the pad. Flipping the drawing back to reveal a fresh white page, you sampled one color, then glanced at him, directly at his eyes.

"Why just my eyes?" He inquired, feeling a scrutinizing gaze on his iris.

"Because they're a challenge to get right"

You lifted the pad to match the colored side to his eye, you repeated the process five time, Bucky scanning your facial gestures and watching them range from confusion, to distaste until you finally pulled a winning smile.

Content you'd actually gotten his eye color right, you shaded carefully, going back and forth between colors to get the right shade blended in. When you were finished you held it forwards to look at it completed.

"If I hadn't seen you draw it I wouldn't believe something like that was possible"

You smiled, unconsciously dropping your head at the compliment.

"What's your name again?" You asked, fishing your fountain pen and storing your pencil in the case.

"James"

He stared as you grounded the side of your hand and pinky finger on the paper, your other fingers moving the pen gracefully at the bottom of the page to write "For James, from-" and your name, all in cursive.

You carefully detached the page from the block and handed it to him, noticing just now that he had leather gloves on his hands. He studied it, giving you a tiny smile as he looked at you.

"Thank you" he nods at you, you nod back and flash him a bigger smile.

"You're welcome"

You stored the block and the pencil case in the bag, standing up and getting ready to leave.

"I have to go"

Bucky stood up and motioned at you to go before him, he opened the door of the cafeteria just as you reached it, your hands snuck into the pockets of your cardigan and you turned on your heels to meet with him for a final goodbye.

"Thank you for this" he had rolled the drawing enough to grasp it in his hand but not enough to crease it completely.

"Thank you for keeping my journal safe" you nodded, reminding him the reason why you'd gifted him the drawing "I post a few things that I draw on my Instagram" you offered, he shook his head with a little frown and snuck his hand into his jacket pocket to pull out a flip phone.

"My phone is kinda boring" you stared at it with a half confused, half surprised gape of your mouth "I mean, it doesn't have your number on it, so-"

Your mouth fell agape in even more surprised for a second then you bit your lower lip, lunging forwards to grab his phone from his hand.

"That was a good one" you praised, your fingers moving on the buttons of the phone, a smirk is painted on your lips as you finish saving your number, then return him his phone. "Bye James" you salute, containing the urge to but your lower lip at the sight of him again.

He salutes back, a goodbye accompanied with your name falling purposely from his lips as he stores the phone back in his pocket.

It takes a few days for him to get the courage to send the message. If anything, he's learned that people avoided phonecalls like the plague, people called and hung up just so make you aware that you hadn't answered the message they sent, it was really impersonal buy this time he preferred it. He spent an stupid amount of time writing the message to ask you out, all until he psyched himself to do it. He had always been a ladies man, he'd proven to himself that he still could get a girls number, he'd made you blush. Worst case scenario, you'll leave him on read.

You don't though, you answer his short "Hey, it's James, are you busy this weekend?" With a: "Hey James! I'm free all week" and what he later discovered was a winking face made out of a semicolon and a closed round bracket.

He meets up with you in downtown Brooklyn, he's surprised to see you in clothes that hug themselves to the natural curves of your body, and you're surprised when he hands you a single flower wrapped in a pretty foil arrangement.

You smile fully as you take it, leaning to catch it's scent and feeling your cheeks redden.

"I've never been gifted flowers before"

"Sounds like they've missed an opportunity" you smile again, your head tilting slightly to your shoulder.

"What do you have in mind?" You asked, changing the subject, Bucky motions behind him with his hand as he steps to the side.

"There's a bowling alley not to far from here"

Bucky found it easy to speak to you, he could talk about what he still remembered, he could tell you his favorite books or songs and you wouldn't do anything else other than smile or twist your eyebrows in surprise. He found himself talking about anything and everything and stop only to notice that you'd leaned over to table or your arm has propped your head on a closed fist as you listened to him talk.

You'd crushed him at bowling, had shared a pizza and had stayed chatting in the bar until the noise of the employees cleaning up had caught up to you.

Bucky walked you to your apartment complex a little way off the center off the city, he even enjoyed the comfortable silence between the two until you made a comment and sparked up in conversation again.

Bucky knew that times had changed, that the dating world wasn't as he remembered, and he also knew that because of how the night had gone, he could steal a kiss from you and you wouldn't mind.

What he didn't know was that you'd made up your mind about him the second the handed you the flower, so as soon as you reached your apartment building and he turned on his heels to meet face to face with you, you climbed to your tiptoes and kissed him. You heard his sharp intake of breath as you moved your lips on his, and you definitely felt his hand crawl to the back of your neck and press you to his body.

You couldn't contain a smile when he hummed in satisfaction, your tongue running along his lower lip teasingly.

You stopped, smiling and looking up at him just as he opened his eyes. Bucky felt time stop and slow down as you moved your face side to side, your nose touching his back and forth, each feather touch leaving him more breathless. The only thing in his mind when you pulled away and walked to the apartment door was holy shit, when are we doing this again?

You turn on your side as you hold the door open.

"Goodnight James" you salute, the sight of him bitting his lower lip makes you smile.

"You can call me Bucky if you want" he replies, his hands hiding in the pockets of his jacket.

You turn even more, the weight of your body changing from one leg to the other as you study his face and his request.

"I can call you Bucky if you want" you accentuate. There's a little something in his eyes, you pick up it's amusement at your answer, surprise. He only nods, making you nod in agreement as well. "Goodnight Bucky" you correct, the corner of his mouth turning upwards in a small smirk.

"Goodnight gorgeous"

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes reader insert #sebastian stan #fanfic #pre-FATWS

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flooffybits · 4 years

Text

The Time She Professed Her Love

Idol: Lalisa Manoban (Blackpink)

☕buy me a coffee☕

“What are we going to do today?” Lisa asked after spotting Jennie on the couch, ignoring the cameras like they did after finally adjusting to the house. Though, she’s already used to having cameras trailing after her wherever she goes.

Jennie hums when she looks up at the ceiling. Jisoo was out since she was at an MC schedule and Chaeyoung was currently in the bathroom, getting ready to leave for her own photoshoot. “I’m not sure. We could always wait for everyone here or go out while waiting.” She answers, unsure on what to really do for the day.

“Oh, unnie! We should surprise maknae while she’s filming. Chaeyoung and I have plans on visiting Jisoo unnie when she wraps up being an MC.” The younger girl suddenly suggested when she began to play with Kuma’s tiny paws, giggling when he tried to place them over her hands.

“Y/n?” The older girl echoes, recalling that you were currently filming for a CF. Wracking her brain for any possible conflict in schedule or if it would be a problem, Jennie ends up nodding her head and smiling. “I think that’s a good idea. This is her first solo CF so I think she’ll want the support.”

After finalizing things with their manager, the pair got ready, bidding Chaeyoung goodbye when she left and then leaving the house right after.

On their way there, Jennie was holding one of the cameras and Lisa was preparing the drinks, putting your stickers on the bottles while giggling to herself. “What are you doing Lisa?” Jennie asked while pointing the camera at her and she showed them her handiwork.

“It’s Y/n’s face! Look at her!” She cooed and Jennie laughed while taking one. “Since this was a spontaneous idea, we were only able to print a few. But they came out pretty, right?” She said to the camera and soon handed the bottle back so she could help Lisa in putting the rest of the stickers on the other bottles just so they wouldn’t have to do it later and cram.

With one of the cameras attached inside the car, Lisa decided to show herself working on the bottles and smiling at the thought of your surprised expression with their sudden presence.

“Y/n has been working hard, everyone. Let’s show her our love.” She gives a little fist pump for the camera, her smile coming to view as she scrunched her nose.

Not long after that, they arrive at the filming site and immediately spot you beside the director, listening as he began to give out instructions. The pair got out of the car and Lisa carefully held the box, their manager carrying the rest for them to distribute as they excitedly approached the venue.

Lisa was extremely giddy as Jennie gasped at your appearance. “Y/n is so cute!” She exclaimed and Lisa balanced the box in one hand so she could grab her phone to take pictures of you. Even though she will be having enough time to do so later, she couldn’t help herself when you looked so focused like that.

After a quick picture or two, they were finally noticed by the staff and the pair smiled brightly while greeting everyone. “Hello! Thank you for looking after Y/n.” They greeted while passing the bottles around.

It looked like you haven’t noticed their arrival yet, but when Lisa was close enough and finished in emptying the box she was carrying, she immediately ran over to you when she saw the director finally step away.

“Y/n-ah!”

The sound of your name being called caused you to turn around, and at the sight of the older girl, you grinned before finding yourself engulfed into a tight hug, drawing laughter from your lips as you reciprocated the embrace.

“What are you doing here?” You giggle when you spot Jennie coming into view, handing you one of the energy drinks and then lightly ruffling your hair when Lisa freed you from her grasp, though keeping her arm linked with yours and resting her head against your shoulder.

“We wanted to support you on your first shoot!” The taller girl exclaimed while Jennie moved the camera so that all three of you were in view. “We thought that it would be a good idea to be cheering you at the side.” She explains with a gummy smile before she’s nodding in Lisa’s direction. “Lisa has been really excited about seeing you and I personally wanted to see you because I can’t have my little angel be on her own.”

Her statement caused a blush to fill your cheeks and you had to lightly push the girl while Lisa cringed. “You’re so cheesy, unnie.” You had to crinkle your nose while Lisa laughed at the glare sent your way. “We’re here to hype Y/n up, not make her feel mushy!” The latter claimed before she’s pulling away to look you up and down.

“But unnie is right, you look really good.” She smirked and you playfully swatted her hands away when she began to adjust your necktie, feeling her tighten it a bit too much with that mischievous spark in her eyes. You went to grab at her shirt, but she was quick with stepping away, giggling as she stuck her tongue out.

Jennie handed the camera to your manager and thanked him when he offered to record instead before she’s adjusting your clothes and shaking her head. “You’re both children, I swear.” She scolded before finally flattening your collar. “But Lisa unnie tried to strangle me!” You complain, a pout already forming on your lips before Lisa cooed and pinched your cheeks.

“You’re just so adorable that I want to squish you!” She said in her baby voice, effectively making the older girl cringe this time while you huffed. ”You always say that!” You push the older girl a bit but she refuses to release you from her hold that you eventually just let up and keep letting her hold you.

Jennie shakes her head before noticing the director making his way to the cameras. “I hope things are going well for you though? You’re not nervous?” She asks when you lean into the taller girl while she lightly pets your head. “Kind of. Since I’m basically on my own, it’s a lot more nerve wracking.” You admit, truthfully a little more at ease with seeing your members faces.

“So it was a good idea that we paid you a visit.”

Lisa boasts with a smile before she’s attempting to presses kisses on your face, but you try to keep her at bay in case her lipstick ends up on your face. “Ah, unnie! I have a shoot to do!” You remind her, but she continues to lightly pull your face closer. “Come on, just one kiss!” She pleads and Jennie finally cuts in when she hears the director calling everyone over.

“Stop harrassing Y/n. You can do that when she doesn’t need to be presentable.” The older girl’s statement makes your face flush red while Lisa blinks in surprise by the shorter woman’s claims. “Okay, okay. No need to act so jealous, unnie. I know you want Y/n to yourself.” She teases while finally releasing you.

“I gotta go, but I’ll see you guys later.” You were quick to press a kiss on both of their faces before rushing to the set.

The camera moves from your shrinking figure to the two that were left to watch you go. “You seem really happy.” Your manager comments when he faces the camera to the Thai woman and she jumps while clasping her hands together. “Y/n is so pretty and I got a kiss!”

Your other member just laughed at the latter’s childishness before they proceeded to move closer to the set. Since they were able to ask for permission, they were allowed to be there so long as they didn’t disturb the shoot.

And even though they were joking around and stealing pictures of you, the pair stayed in their best behavior as to not be kicked out of the set. Of course, you were a bit embarrassed when you saw them giggling at you when you had to pretend to be cute.

With the amount of pictures that they took, there was no doubt that they were going to use them on you in the future.

Later when you all get back to the house, the three of you were requested for an individual interview based on the shoot, with you going first.

“It was honestly really surprising to see the unnies there since they have never mentioned anything about it, but when they told me it was a spontaneous idea, I thought ‘ah, that makes sense’ because sometimes the best experiences are those we don’t plan.” You say with a smile. Because despite acting as though you were annoyed by them, you were deeply touched that they chose to spend their free time with you.

“Even though the unnies like to tease me, they almost make sure to let me know that they love me just as much as I love them. There are times they don’t say it directly, but they always show their love in different ways.”

When Jennie came up next, you went to where Lisa was and ran to her arms when you closed the door.

“You did such a good job today!” She squealed when she laid down with you, nuzzling your cheek as you giggled. “Well I did have an amazing support system to cheer me on.” You say with a goofy grin, allowing her to pinch your cheeks and then pecking your forehead. “You’ll always have the best support system.”

You both stay like that, cuddling each other in the quiet and peaceful room until Jennie comes back to tell Lisa that it was her turn for the interview and taking her place next to you.

With one last glance, the Thai woman blows you a quick kiss before she goes to the second floor where the cameras were set up for the interview sessions.

“Finding out that you were going to see Y/n at her shoot, you were very excited. Why is that?”

“Because it’s Y/n! Of course I would be excited to see her. We’re all so used to being around her, so to see her working hard on her own made me feel so proud.” She proclaimed, her eyes shining in pure happiness.

“Y/n and I like to play around, teasing each other. If you think Chaeyoung and I tease one another a lot, Y/n and I are much worse that it even annoys the unnies sometimes.” She chuckles. “Fans are aware of it, but I always call Y/n my soulmate. We’re always at the same wavelength as each other and just having the other around is enough to comfort us.”

She grins widely, covering her mouth to hide her giggles. “The unnies can’t hear me saying this because they’re all going to be upset and say that Y/n is their soulmate.” She says with a deep breath, a soft smile coming to her lips. “But I really believe Y/n is my soulmate because there is no one who understands each other like we do.”

“Is there anything you want to tell your soulmate?”

She looks the camera head on, almost as though she was imagining that she was staring at you. “Y/n-ah, even though we argue a lot, you’re really special to me and I hope you know that I’m always here for you.”

#girl group #girl group scenarios #girl group imagines #blackpink #blackpink scenarios #blackpink imagines #blackpink lisa #lalisa manoban #lisa #lisa blackpink #bp lisa #lisa scenarios #lisa imagines

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beware-of-you-98 · 4 years

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henry’s dragon (jj x emily)

there’s a lot of reptile talk and i’m only slightly sorry about it

It's not that they hadn't been expecting the question; after all, a pet had been on his most recent wish-list to Santa Claus. It wasn't that they didn't think Henry was irresponsible: he got fantastic grades in school, kept up with his sports and helped out enough around the house. He was even the one that took up most of the chores when it came to Sergio (he insisted). Really, there was no doubt in their minds that their son wouldn't take responsibility in taking care of another animal.

But it was too soon, and neither Emily or JJ wanted to start a habit of buying an animal on such short notice without instilling some kind of boundaries.

First and foremost, since everyone at the house had busy schedules, the new pet couldn't be something that require attention 24/7.

No mammals or birds—nothing that would be affected by significant spending some time alone.

Since the boys time was split between two houses, the animal had to be something that either JJ or Emily could easily take care of in Henry's absence.

No spiders or bugs and it had to fit in an enclosure that they capped off at 50 gallons—hey, they had to draw the line somewhere.

After months and months of researching, Henry finally decided between either a corn snake (only if it was on frozen thawed mice), a crested gecko, or a leopard gecko. Last week for his eleventh birthday, JJ and Emily had surprised him with a twenty gallon tank that would house either animal of his choice quite comfortably for a while and several necessities like a heating pad and a basking light and bulb.

To top everything off, Spencer and Penelope had surprised the boy with tickets to a reptile show that was taking place the following weekend so he could go and pick out his new pet.

(Whatever Henry decided to get, he could also get the appropriate hides, water bowls and supplements with the money his grandparents had given him.

Emily and JJ collectively agreed to pay for the animal as an additional birthday gift.)

They had both been immediately thrown out of their element when they walked into the convention center lobby and found people crowded around the hundreds upon hundreds of tables full of different animals.

"Look, momma, a dinosaur!"

Emily peers up briefly to follow the direction Michael is pointing in with a fond grin, an amused chuckle escaping her mouth as her gaze lands on the clear acrylic tank with a colorful lizard basking under a heat lamp. The blue sharpie on the tank advertises the species in quick-scrawled handwriting: "Uromastyx". Right below the name lists the price in smaller, more legible numbers: "$225".

She hums, giving Michael's ankles a gentle squeeze as she adjusts her hold to keep him from toppling off her shoulders or over her head. The lizard's face can really only be described as dinosaur like, face round and snout short and stubby with tiny black eyes that reflect the light from the bulb above. The animal's scales are mostly bright blue and green, bright yellow and orange spots stamped down the spine, visually leading to a long tail covered in stubbed spikes.

"It does look like a dinosaur, doesn't it?" she agrees with another chuckle, turning her head and resting her hand on Henry's shoulder when he comes bounding up to join them at the table, JJ not too far behind. "What do you think, Hen? You want to adopt a dinosaur?"

Henry pushes his glasses up his nose, eyes lighting up in excitement as he catches a glimpse of the lizard. "An ornate Uromastyx, cool!" he exclaims before turning back towards his mothers. "Did you know they have basking spots of up to 135°?"

A brief pause as he thinks, head tilting up to look at the ceiling. He scrunches his nose and giggles when JJ playfully sticks her tongue out at him.

"And they're mostly herbivores!" he adds as soon as he remembers.

JJ gives his shoulder a loving squeeze before glancing over at the tank. "It is a pretty lizard," she admits.

"It's too expensive," Henry shrugs, not too affected by the fact he probably would be leaving without the Uromastyx. "And I didn't research them enough. Besides, he would out grow the tank I have at home and I don't have the right things for him," he reasons.

A young woman working the booth shoots the family a polite smile before walking over. "Hey, there! Can I help you guys with anything?"

"No, thank you," Henry declines politely. "We're just looking!"

"Interested in Uros?" the woman asks Henry in attempts at conversation.

"They're neat!" he nods enthusiastically. "But not really for beginners."

The woman smiles, looking impressed. "From what I overheard, someone did their research." She glances up at Emily and JJ, politely offering her hand. "I'm Courtney," she introduces herself.

"Jennifer," JJ replies, shaking Courtney's hand with her practiced "liaison" smile, grazing her free hand in Henry's hair as she briefly introduces him, "Henry," before resting it on Emily's side. "My wife, Emily, and Michael."

"Hi," is Michael's shy greeting, lifting his hand before resting his chin on top of Emily's head as the brunette shakes Courtney's hand.

"Pleasure meeting you. First time here?" Courtney guesses with a knowing smile.

"Uh-huh!" Henry nods.

"Neither of us never been to one of these before," JJ explains. "We're not really sure where we're going."

Courtney nods in understanding, reaching under the table and pulling out a small stack of maps with the vendors and tables located on it. "This should help you guys out!"

Emily takes one of the maps, flipping i over and scanning the schedule on the back before giving the woman a grateful smile. "Thank you!"

"Not a problem at all," Courtney assures. "These can get a bit overwhelming the first time around. What are you guys looking for?"

"Geckos!" Henry supplies. "Or corn snakes."

"You'll find plenty of those around here," Courtney smiles at him before leaning in towards the family and muttering softly, "Between you and me, don't buy from that guy." She points to a vendor on the map.

"Bad rap?" JJ assumes.

"Sells sick, over priced animals," Courtney confirms just as softly. "Best vendors for geckos usually sell here..." She points to another space on the map. "And this group right here," She uses her pointer finger to gesture to a few vendors a few tables down. "Sell snakes that only eat frozen thawed, if that's something you're looking for."

JJ lets out a small sigh of relief. "Thank you so much."

Courtney shakes her head and holds up her palms with a warm smile. "Hey, not a problem at all. Just wanted to give you guys a heads up." She hands Henry one of the business cards and a sticker from the table. "You get some more experience with reptiles and ever want to get a Uromastyx, you know where to find us."

"Thank you!"

"You folks enjoy the show!" Courtney waves them away, giving them all warm smiles before heading off down the table to greet another person at the table.

"This place is awesome!" Henry exclaims, spreading out his arms to gesture around the room, eyes shining with glee.

JJ tears her gaze away from a massive Burmese python spotted like a cow, smiling down at the child and nodding in agreement. "It's something else."

"I'll say," Emily murmurs, turning the map in her hands with a small frown, bringing it closer to her face to make sure she's reading correctly. "Hey, Hen, what are "hots"?" She peers down at him, stopping briefly when they come across a table covered in plastic containers sealed shut with red electrical tape. One look at a container holding a white diamond back rattlesnake and she lets out a silent "oh" in realization. "These must be hots."

"Whoa!" Henry gasps in wonder, but stays back where he is. "Cool!"

JJ rests a hand on his shoulder, peering over him at the hundreds of venomous reptiles displayed on the table. A part of her is honestly surprised with how easily someone could come here and purchase some of the deadliest animals on earth. She personally doesn't see the appeal, but hey, to each their own.

"Am I crazy..." Emily leans in towards JJ's face and murmurs. "Or are some of these things kind of adorable?" she continues, discreetly pointing to a container labeled "gaboon viber".

The snake itself is gorgeous, short, stocky body curled over in a "C" shape. Bright orange, yellow and brown diamonds line down the serpent's back. The eyes are positioned almost directly on top of its head, one looking towards the right and the other facing the complete opposite direction. The goofy eyes, along with the chubby cheeks (most likely swollen with the venom glands) and a small horn at the tip of its nose make the snake look like a funny cartoon character.

"No, they're definitely cute," JJ easily agrees, finding another snake in a clear container with black electrical tape. The lid labels the snake inside as a "plains hognose". This snake has the same chubby cheeks as the viper and a little upturned snout, with eyes JJ can really only describe as "puppy like". "In a weird way."

"Moms, can I get a cobra?"

Glaring playfully at Henry, who points to a white monocled cobra with a shit eating grin on his face, JJ smirks, "You most certainly can not get a cobra!"

Emily reaches over and ruffles Henry's hair when he pouts in exaggeration. "Sorry, babe, your mom's the boss." She drops her voice a few octaves, smile light and teasing as she faux whispers, "Between me and you boys, I would have totally been okay with a cobra as long as you cleaned up after it."

JJ gently whacks Emily's side with the back of her hand, grinning when the brunette grabs her hand and links their fingers together. "Don't conspire with the kids to get venomous reptiles behind my back," she chides playfully.

"Busted, boys. No cobras," Emily sighs dramatically, her own smile wide when Michael giggles from above at her. "What a shame, too. I was going to name him Mr Sparkles."

"Mr Sparkles?!" Michael repeats incredulously between giggles.

"Yep, Mr Sparkles," Emily confirms firmly, grinning as they walk down the table and inspect more of the animals. "I was going to buy him a little leather jacket studded in rhinestones and everything."

"You're so weird!" Henry laughs, shaking his head before leaning into Emily, resting against her arm as they move.

"Proudly!" She grins, heart feeling so incredibly full with Henry leaning on her, Michael above on her shoulder and with JJ at her side. It felt right, so simple and so domestic to be like this. It's as if this was where she was meant to be all along. She feels even more content when JJ leans up and presses a soft kiss to her cheek as if to silently confess her own happiness.

It's perfect.

The family steadily makes their way down the rows and row of vendors, stopping every so often when specific animals catch their eye. There's a small vendor selling small exotic mammals that they spend a while at because the woman running the booth has a sugar glider on her shoulder. Michael and JJ are completely transfixed on the small animal, even more so when it decides to hop on top of JJ's head. She squeaks in surprise, while Emily and the boys laugh, the brunette quickly whipping out her phone to record a video to send to the team group chat later.

They stop at another vendor selling sulcata tortoises a few minutes later, the vendors allowing the boys to feed the giants a few leaves of romaine lettuce (another video recorded, but this time for Penelope because Emily and JJ know she would want to see as much of this as possible next girl's night).

It's nice to see how interactive some of the vendors are with the boys. Some allow them to pet certain display animals and talk to them about each one. Michael yelps in surprise when he pets a large tegu because the lizard flicks its tongue out lazily at the boy. Henry is a bit wary of a scaleless bearded dragon and corn snake, wrinkling his nose when he tentatively touches the animal with the vendor's approval.

("It looks like a ball sack," Emily whispers to JJ, eyeing the animal with as much distain as Henry. "It probably feels like one, too." Her own nose wrinkles at the thought, but a smile forms on her face when her wife laughs at her. "What? It's true! Probably!"

“Touch it and find out,” JJ challenges, laughing again when Emily shudders at the thought.

“Yeah, no thanks. I’ll pass.”)

They take plenty of pictures and videos of the boys, mostly standing back and letting the boys enjoy themselves. Though, the boys do convince their moms to participate in petting or holding certain animals. It doesn't take JJ much convincing to hold a tiny banana ball python (she thinks it's really pretty) and a pied ball python whose body consists of huge white spots (she refuses to believe it's real because what?!?) that just fit in her palm. Emily gets suckered into holding a massive carpet python with Henry, tensing only slightly when the snake flicks its tongue in her face.

Henry keeps an eye out for his perfect pet, regarding some of the corn snakes and crested geckos at some vendors with some interest, but moves on otherwise. It's not until they get to a table with a vendor selling leopard geckos that he really pays attention.

Henry looks at the animals in the tupperware containers, each shallow cylindrical container slotted perfectly in a custom black foam board. It made a lot of the animals' colors pop, especially the bright yellow, orange and white geckos in the middle of the board. The women note how Henry's gaze keeps going back to the row with several of these white and yellow geckos, obviously having peeked his interest the most. The last gecko in the row is a stunning bright orange, the tail thick and animal alert. The green marker on top of the lid lists the gecko as a "sub-adult tangerine 25% het temper $75" with the symbol off to the side listing it as a male.

Emily kneels down beside him, peeking between Henry and the gecko. “What are you thinking?”

“He’s pretty,” Henry says in awe. “His tail is thick and he looks really healthy.”

“You guys need any help?” the young man running the booth asks, coming up towards them from behind the table.

“Can I ask a few things about him?” Henry asks, carefully pointing out the orange gecko.

The young man replies with a warm smile, nodding. “Sure, go ahead.”

Emily holds her palms up in a peaceful gesture, letting Henry take the reigns. She stands up behind him, reaching out and grasping JJ’s hand when she comes up to her side with Michael on her opposite hip. “What’s happening? Did he find one?”

Emily smiles fondly at Henry, who’s asking simple, yet crucial, questions about the gecko with the vendor. “Yeah, I think so,” she replies quietly to her wife. “He really likes the orange one.”

The conversation seems to flow naturally between Henry and the vendor, the man periodically peering up at the women to engage them in the conversation about the animal, too. He asks Henry a few questions, nodding in approval when he replies with the information he learned while researching leopard geckos. “That guy right there is one of the friendliest geckos we’ve produced,” the guy adds, nodding to the orange gecko. “Really handleable and calm.”

With that confirmation, Henry turns his hopeful gaze up to his moms, silent question in his eyes.

“You guys can buy him and we’ll hold him back here if you need to pick up some more things or want to look around more so you’re not carrying him around all day,” the vendor assures.

JJ rests her hand on Henry’s shoulder. “This guy, huh?” she asks softly to confirm his choice, small smile on her face.

“I really like him,” Henry confirms with a nod.

“That settles it then,” Emily grins, slipping her wallet from her back pocket and handing over the cash for the animal, sealing the deal.

Henry beams as the man takes the cash, carefully sliding the gecko from the foam board and setting the container behind the table. Henry throws his arms excitedly around both women. “Thanks, moms! You guys are the best!”

Emily smooths her hand through his hair lovingly, smiling warmly as JJ bends and plants a kiss on his forehead.

“You guys can come back here and get him when you’re ready,” the vendor confirms for them, picking up a business card and handing it off to Henry. “If you guys have any more questions or if anything pops up, give us a call and we’ll help out, okay?”

“Thank you!” Henry says genuinely, clutching the card tightly with a grin before turning and tugging on his moms towards the back of the hall.

“Thank you so much,” JJ repeats towards the vendor, smiling warmly at him before allowing Henry to tug her towards the vendors selling supplies.

“See you soon!” the man calls out, waving to them before tending to another customer.

They look around at some more vendors, Henry stopping at a few to buy what he still needs for his new gecko along the way. Michael’s back down on the ground, following his older brother with the same enthusiasm. The two chatter amongst themselves excitedly. JJ and Emily fall in step behind them, watching on with fond smiles that never seem to leave their face even as they leave the convention hall with a new addition to the family in tow.

Emily looks back in the rear view mirror at the boys, smiling to herself as they lean their heads together to look at the gecko in the container secured on Henry’s lap. She turns when JJ leans over and presses a kiss to her shoulder, linking their free hands together in the space between the front seats, a comfortable silence falling between them. The drive home is filled with the excited chatter of their boys from the backseat, the distinct scent of the fast food they had quickly picked up for an easy dinner swarming the car.

It’s oddly comfortable in a way, Emily thinks to herself as the sun starts to set over the horizon. She’s never felt more at peace than she is right now, listening to the boys chatter in the background and feeling the warmth her wife provides as she leans her head on her shoulder.

It’s dark out by the time they get home, just ten minutes until the boys’ bedtime.

Henry and Michael immediately bound up to Henry’s room, the older boy setting the container down gently. He puts the small coleny of dubia roaches into a critter keeper with the food and gel water cubes before setting them off the side. Then, he begins to put the finishing touches to the tank, adding the hides and a small, shallow dish that he fills with calcium powder. Emily trails behind, helping out any way she could and taking the bottle of water JJ hands off to her from behind to cap off the water bowl.

The two women take a seat on Henry’s bed, watching the boys as Henry carefully lifts the container and sets it in the tank. He opens the lid and removes it from the tank, snapping the lid back in place. “We gotta let him come out on his own and get used to it before we pick him up,” he softly tells his younger brother, taking a step back from the tank and joining his moms on the bed. He climbs up between them, smushing himself at their sides and leaning against them. Emily hoists Michael up on her lap, planting a kiss on his head as they all watch the gecko slowly climb out of the container and begin to explore his new environment.

JJ plants a kiss on Henry’s head, reaching over and laying a hand comfortingly on Michael’s back as he leans tiredly against Emily. “What do you think?”

“I love him already,” Henry admits quietly, eyes following his new pet as he explores his tank.

“What are you gonna name him?” Emily wonders, rubbing Michael’s back soothingly to convince him to go to sleep.

“Mr Sparkles,” the toddler tiredly mumbles, cracking a smile at his own joke.

Henry giggles, sounding just as tired as his brother. He lets out a yawn, letting his head lean against JJ’s side. He brings up his hand, moving his glasses out of the way to rub his eye with the back of his hand. “Smaug,” he decides sleepily. “His name is Smaug.”

JJ reaches down, carefully removing his glasses and setting them on his desk before running her fingers soothingly through his hair. “I think that’s a perfect name,” she murmurs.

Her eyes flicker back to the tank, watching the gecko until she feels Henry’s full weight leaning into her. She turns to Emily, who silently confirms with a nod that both boys are asleep. She shifts Michael in her arms, pressing a kiss to his cheek and cradling the bak of his head as she stands. JJ slowly moves herself from the bed, managing to grab Henry in her arms to move him up towards his pillows. She flicks off his bedside lamp, blinking in surprise when the basking light to the gecko’s tank also goes dark before remembering that it’s on a timer. She leans down, pressing a soft kiss to Henry’s forehead and murmuring an “I love you” on his skin before moving for Emily to do the same.

They shuffle out to Michael’s room, JJ carefully and quietly shutting Henry’s door behind her. The routine is the same with Michael, laying him down in his bed, giving him a kiss goodnight and murmuring quiet “I love you”s on his skin before sneaking out and closing the door behind them.

JJ leans up, pressing a tired, soft kiss on Emily’s lips in the middle of the hallway, hoping to convey even the smallest amount of affection she holds for her wife with the simple gesture. Emily gently cups her face between her palms, melting into the gesture as she always does. “I love you,” she hums quietly on the blonde’s lips, smiling wide when she feels JJ smile against her.

“I love you. So much.”

#criminals minds #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #jemily #jj x emily #emily x jj #momily!!!!!#jemily fluff 🥺#jemily family fluff #i nerded out about reptiles and i’m only slightly sorry about it #i actually don’t care for Uromastyx oops #i only know how to take care of maybe 5 reptiles tops #leopard geckos are one of those reptiles #ngl i miss having one #anyway i can’t write endings #enjoy x #am i out of my writing funk??? i don’t think so bc i kinda hate it #lol #enjoy it anyway

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feferipeixes · 3 years

Text

The Good Lines (2/3)

Trapped in an unfamiliar world, Alcor finds that he doesn’t mind the loneliness. He doesn’t care about finding a way out. He doesn’t even care about Mizar. All he cares about is solving puzzles, and drawing the good lines.

(or: I Think Dipper Should Play The Witness)

Chapter 2: Hotel (link to chapter 1) (3)

(See the most updated version on AO3!)

===

There was an earth-shaking roar in the sky as Mizar drew the line. Alcor couldn’t quite catch exactly how she did it since she wasn’t there with him in person, but the noise it made was deafening. He tried to look around for the panel responsible but there were no panels around him that he hadn’t already solved himself. It happened so quickly, and then there was the sound of an explosion, followed by a building taking form directly in front of him.

He eyed it uneasily. “This is the hotel?”

“Yep.” Mizar’s voice still came through clear as day. “This will take you out of the game. Then you’ll be free.”

“I’m not -” he started, but thought better of it. He could feel Mizar’s eyes on him from another world, looking down through a television screen, and figured he’d caused her enough stress. “Okay. Here we go.”

It’s not like he had much of a choice anyway. The entrance to the hotel had replaced the only exit from the garden he’d been standing in. He approached the opening, peering down the long hallway lined with fancy sconces. He took a step inside and immediately the ambient hum of the outdoors cut out. He may have thought it was quiet on the island before but it was nothing compared to the emptiness he was feeling now. He had to turn around just to verify that the outside even still existed. Two steps in and he already felt swallowed up by the unknown.

“Dipper?” Mizar’s voice came out of nowhere, and Alcor nearly jumped out of his skin. “Sorry! Are you alright?”

Alcor clutched his chest and took a few deep breaths before responding. “Yeah. I’m fine.” His wings didn’t get the memo, flapping hard against the wall and his back. “This place isn’t weird and creepy at all.”

He couldn’t see her, but Alcor could practically hear the frown in Mizar’s voice. “I thought you loved the weird and creepy.”

“I do! I really do.” He took some shaky steps down the hall to what looked like a reception desk. It sat in front of a wide pillar decorated with a pattern of orange spikes that fanned up and out across the ceiling like a sunburst. “In fact, I’d kinda love to explore a place like this.” Turning a corner, he found himself face-to-face with a large painting of a windmill, and he remembered a similar structure he’d come across in the island’s town. A structure that sat atop a network of underground tunnels, most of which were blocked off by wooden gates he hadn’t been able to bypass. “It’s the thought of all the other stuff I won’t get the chance to explore that’s getting me down.”

“I’m sorry,” came the response.

Alcor waited for more, but more didn’t come. Sighing, he headed past the reception, where there was a bar, some seating, and a balcony. Eyes growing wide, he approached the edge and looked out. Somehow, despite not climbing any stairs from where he was in the garden, the balcony was high enough that he could see half the island. His eyes passed over the desert, the town, the forest, and up to the structure at the top of the mountain. It gave him the feeling that he wasn’t supposed to be there, that the ground he was standing on didn’t exist and he was soaring freely through paradise.

“No, don’t do that!” Mizar’s voice snapped.

Alcor blinked and broke out of his thoughts. Without intending to, he’d flared his wings large and wide, and was standing in a position like he was ready to dive forward. Taking a step backward, he let his wings shrink and balled his hands into fists. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t going to.”

Mizar gulped -- a strange sound to get beamed so clearly into Alcor’s head. “That’s alright. It’s not your fault. How about… you keep going?”

He shrugged, and looked around. A set of stairs led to a doorway on the second floor of the hotel, and he followed them up. He glanced back once more before entering. “If my kid really made this for me, he did a really good job.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Alcor went through the doorway, and found himself inexplicably in what looked like a cave. Diamond-shaped hanging fixtures bathed the room in an eerie green glow. “Back when I was human, I spent all my time trying to uncover the mysteries of Gravity Falls. He would’ve known that I couldn’t resist a good mystery. I mean, like -” (he walked a little further, to where a set of lounge chairs overlooked a gap in the cave wall) “what the hell is this? Why is this hotel like this?”

He peered through the gap and saw that it dropped down into another cave, a cave in which he couldn’t help but notice there were puzzle panels. Some were mounted onto the walls, some seemed to be suspended from the ceiling on thick cables. All of them were deactivated, and Alcor’s heart sank at the thought that he wouldn’t get to know what kind of puzzles they concealed.

“Even on the way out,” he mused, “My kid has to go and throw more secrets at me.”

“There are mysteries out here, too,” Mizar said after a beat.

Alcor heard the waver in her voice and sighed again. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just not as fun when I already know the answers to everything out there.”

She didn’t respond to that either, so he pressed onward. The passage got narrower, and he almost had to squeeze himself through a couple of the gaps.

“I have to admit, though,” he spoke up, “that it’ll be nice to have my magic back. If I could change my shape, I’d be through here in no time. Better yet, I could just tesser to the end of this thing! Doing puzzles all day is fun, but maybe I gotta realize there’s other stuff that’s more important to me.”

There was a snort and a half-suppressed giggle. “Really. And that’s magic? Not, like, your family?”

Alcor put on a display of thinking about it and smirked. “Yep! Definitely magic. Definitely not the people who love me enough to go through hell saving me from a virtual reality… game…” He trailed off as he passed by another gap in the wall. It looked out over another cave, although unlike the last one, this one was wide open and mostly empty.

“Dipper?” The giggle in Mizar’s voice trailed off too. “Why’d you stop?”

Water rushed beneath his feet, flowing into the chamber below, lapping up against the shore and the chunk of ground sticking out in the center of the room. In the middle of this chunk was a small table, illuminated by a single light hanging from the ceiling, and on this table was… something.

“What’s… that?” he breathed.

“What’s what? Uhh...” she responded. There was some banging in his head, the sound of drawers opening and closing, of devices being moved around. “Sorry, everything went a bit fuzzy, uhh…” A loud crash followed by the sizzle of a CRT monitor turning on and finally a sigh of relief. “Ah, fixed it! Okay, let me, uh… Oh. Oh no. Shit.”

It was hard to tell what the thing on the table was from a distance. There were two black boxes angled outward, and there was something else behind them. Whatever it was, it had a thick wire trailing out of it. Alcor wondered where it went.

“Shit! Don’t look at that. It’s… nothing!”

He glanced up, and noticed another hole in the wall across the room, through which he was surprised to see a figure in a dark suit with a floating top hat. The figure’s wings were flapping wildly. He looked over his shoulder -- huh. Looked like his own wings were doing that too.

“There’s nothing interesting down there. Just a boring cave! Hey, how about you keep going through the hotel? There’s another scenic overlook of the island coming up! That’ll be fun to look at, right?”

Alcor turned around and saw that there was a gap in the cave wall directly behind him. Peering through it, he found himself viewing the same cave as before, but from the opposite side. From this angle, he could see the panel mounted in front of the other objects on the table.

And he could see that it was active.

“Dipper, please,” Mizar pleaded. “You don’t want to do that. It’s not worth it. You won’t be able to solve it.”

“Seriously?” he said, remembering that he could talk. “That just makes me want to check it out even more. I’ll be quick, I just really wanna know what that thing is.”

Taking a few steps back, Alcor stretched his arms and wings. He took his suit jacket off and tossed it aside, where it promptly vanished. Rolling his sleeves up, he rubbed his hands together and grinned. Then he ran forward and dove through the opening into the cave below.

“WHAT are you DOING?” Mizar yelled, her voice clipping out the microphone she was using to speak with him. “That’s not even POSSIBLE. You can’t jump or go off ledges in this game! I checked!”

Ignoring her, Alcor drifted downward, feeling the rush of air in his face for the first time in a while. He touched ground, shoes clacking against the stone, and let the force of the impact ripple through him. He was pretty sure Mizar was right -- that you couldn’t jump in this game -- but he didn’t care. There was only one thing he cared about right now.

Up close, he could see that the object on the table was a record player, with the two black boxes being speakers. There was a record already mounted on the device; instead of a sticker in the middle to identify what was on it, it only bore an image of an orange sunburst, just like the decoration in the hotel lobby. And finally, there was a panel on the table, which he could only assume would start or stop the record.

It was odd, to be sure. What would such a device be doing in a cave? Weird stuff like that was always intriguing, sure, but presumably all the device did was play music. Why had Mizar said that he wouldn't be able to solve it?

[ Because the music is only part of the puzzle, ] a metallic voice said, and Alcor's eyes widened in surprise.

“Kid?” he asked.

[ Hi Dad. Nice to talk to you again. I hope you're enjoying the game. ]

“It's really you,” Alcor marveled. “Mizar was right. You're the one who made all of this. The island, the puzzles, everything.”

[ Sure did! ] the virus replied with a vaguely smug note to his synthesized voice. [ I worked real hard on it, cause I only want the best of the best for my dad. And speaking of the best, you're in luck! You've stumbled into my magnum opus. I call it - ]

There was a bang, like a fist coming down on a table, and Mizar's voice rang out into the cave. “No! Don't listen to it!”

[ - The Challenge. ]

Alcor felt a tingle run down his spine. “That’s so foreboding! What is it?”

[ It’s a test of your puzzle-solving abilities! Two songs will play, and you’ll have until the end of the second one to solve a set of randomly generated puzzles. If the music stops, you have to start all over with new puzzles! But if you can solve them all in time, a fabulous prize waits for you at the end! ]

“A prize?” There was a muffled pounding noise in the distance, but Alcor tuned it out. “What’s the prize?”

Al-V’s smile was practically audible. [ Why don't you find out for yourself? ]

The panel on the table. Alcor approached it, enrapt with curiosity, and put his finger on the start circle. There were two ends to the panel. One was a tiny little line sticking out of the circle. He tried that one first, and nothing seemed to happen. Pursing his lips, he pressed on the circle again and dragged his finger down the long path that extended the full length of the panel.

“Wait!” Mizar yelled before he could lift his finger. “Dipper, it's a trap! Please listen to me! You were so close to escaping the game! Think of your family! They miss you! This can't be -”

Al-V’s voice cut over Mizar's. [ Family, schmamily. Think of all the puzzles waiting for you to solve them. Won't that be fun? At least give it a try. ]

There was a lump in Alcor's throat and he swallowed hard to get past it. “I… Sorry Mizar.” He lifted his finger, and the panel made a clicking noise. “I gotta see what this is.”

There was a soft rumble as the record player activated. The tonearm glided into position above the record, which slowly began to spin. After a moment, the thick cable attached to the player lit up, illuminating a puzzle mounted on the wall. And then, the first few notes of Anitra’s Dance filtered through the speakers.

Bum da da, bum da da

Alcor broke out into a huge smile. The silence which had haunted him as long as he’d been on the island was gone; now his body was being scooped up and set adrift by the music. The mesmerizing strings, like the lying tongue of a devil; the passionate bass, giving urgency to the affair; the wail of echoes careening off the cave walls. He’d missed this. He wished he had his violin so he could join in.

“The songs are a distraction!” Mizar was still there, sort of, still trying to talk to him even though he could barely hear her over the music. “They’re just there to make it harder to focus on the puzzles!”

“Oh. Oh yeah,” Alcor murmured, his smile drooping slightly. For the briefest moment, Mizar thought she’d gotten through to him, but then he smiled again and flew over to the illuminated panel. “New puzzles for me to solve. Gotta draw the good lines.”

“No!” she screamed, but it was too late. His hand flew across the panel, solving it with ease, and the music swelled triumphantly, completely drowning out Mizar’s voice. The next panel lit up, displaying a maze three times as big as the first one, and Alcor’s grin widened. This was going to be good.

The difficulty of the puzzles only increased from there. Soon Alcor was swooping through a tunnel into another cave, which he immediately recognized as the one with the deactivated panels he’d spied from the hotel. Now, however, they were turning on, one at a time, solve after solve after solve. Though each puzzle took progressively longer for him to figure out, Alcor revelled in every second of it, even as the first song came to a finish and Mizar’s cries faded back into his awareness, why! won’t! you! listen! to! me!

“Hi Miz,” he chirped as the music changed to In the Hall of the Mountain King, and it set her blood boiling.

Duh duh duh duh dadada…

“Having fun?” she grumbled.

“Oh, yeah!” He shot a pair of finger guns at no one in particular, but didn’t take his eyes off the puzzle. “This one’s hard, though. Been stuck on it for a little while.”

Dadada… dadada...

“A minute and a half,” Mizar replied. “You’re not even doing it right.”

“Ugh, I know. I’ll figure it out though. I’ve got time.”

Duh duh duh duh dadada ba dadadadada…

“You’ve got like two minutes left to do seven puzzles. You don’t have time.”

Alcor grimaced. “Okay, negative. If I can’t solve it in time then I’ll just try again.”

Dun dun dun dun dadada,

Dadada,

“So, what, you’re just gonna stay in this stupid game forever? Is that it?”

Alcor’s hand slipped, and he drew a bad line. The panel turned off, forcing him to trudge back to the previous one to solve it again. "I said I'll come out after I get the prize, I can do this, I promise..."

Dun dun dun dun dadada DA da ba ba da da!

"You're not gonna beat it!” Mizar spat. “That's not me not believing in you -- I know for a fact that the virus coded the challenge so that you specifically would always get stumped at some part of it!"

DUN dun dun dun dadada, WA WA WA WA!

Amidst music rising to a heart-pounding clamor, Alcor hurried back to the panel he’d been stuck on. "Yeah, it's random, I know, and sometimes the puzzles it makes are really hard, but if I keep practicing..."

DUN DUN DUN DUN DADADA BA DA DA DA BA DA!

"No, Dipper!”

DUN DUN DUN DUN DADADA BA DA DA DA BA DA!

Mizar yelled at the top of her lungs to be heard over the music. “That's you trusting the game to always give you solvable puzzles! How do you know they'll always be solvable?”

DUN DA! DUN DA! Dun dun dun dun dadada ba da da da ba da!

”How do you know the virus isn't just nerd-sniping you until the music stops playing and you have to start over?”

Dun wa wa wa wa wa wa wa!

”Why do you trust this game more than you trust me????"

Dum tsh!

With two final, crashing notes, the song came to an end. There was a beat, during which Mizar could see Alcor standing very still, his hand still on a glowing panel. Then there was a loud beep as all of the panels in the cave deactivated, followed by the distant click of the record player turning off.

Alcor clenched his fist. “You want to know why I can’t trust you?”

“Um. Yeah I do,” Mizar replied, taken aback. “Like I was saying -”

Alcor’s words came out slow and metered, but there was a nasty undertone to his voice. “It’s because you lie.”

He looked up from the deactivated panel and stared at the ceiling, directly where she was watching from, and she could see streaks of yellow running down his face. “Every time I get close to you. Every time I get close to anyone. You mortals love to say I’ll always be here for you and like an idiot I keep letting myself believe it, but then you die. Everyone I’ve ever cared about has died or will die and there I still am, suffering and mourning and alone.”

“B-but-” Mizar stammered.

Alcor snarled at her, baring two rows of shark-like teeth and spraying spit at the wall. Mizar’s mouth snapped shut.

“This game doesn’t lie to me,” he continued, walking back toward the record player but not taking his eyes off her. “A puzzle is just a puzzle. It has an answer that I can figure out if I stare at it long enough, or maybe I won’t and that’s okay too. Puzzles don’t lie to you and say people don’t really think of you as a monster and then go research banishment rituals behind your back.”

“I-I wasn’t going to actually use it!” Mizar replied, in unison with Alcor saying the exact same words. “I was only looking it up just in case! Just to reassure my brother -- he has anxiety!”

“Yeah, how many times do you think someone’s said that to me before?” Alcor spat. “I don’t blame you for being nervous around me. I literally am a monster. Just don’t fucking lie to me about it, okay?”

“Dipper, please! Think about all the people who love you. You can’t just leave them behind!”

Alcor stopped in front of the record player and turned away. “If they can do it to me, I can do it to them,” he murmured. Then he slid his finger across the control panel again, and the world went dark.

Mizar gripped her computer screen. “Dipper? Dipper, what’s going on?”

The humming from the machine had stopped, and all she could hear was the ringing in her ear from Dipper’s shout. Mizar rifled through the desk drawers, looking for an instruction manual or a cheat sheet or anything that would help her reach her brother again. Every scrap of paper she found was covered in strange symbols that she recognized as puzzles from the game. She knew it was a fruitless search. After all, the system was designed to trap someone, not to let them go.

She looked behind her, to the two person-sized capsules pushed up against the wall. One was empty, with its lid discarded on the floor. Mizar walked over to the other one and pressed her face up to the glass. Beyond the window rested Dipper’s physical body, hooked up to a dizzying array of cables and electrodes. It made her mind itch to look at. His body was as fake as the avatar he was controlling in the video game. But it was an anchor for his soul, and Al-V did what he did best with it: reverse engineered it, figured out how to anchor the demon’s mind in something else.

Mizar once again eyed the power outlet the capsule was plugged into. Would his mind be able to escape, if she…?

“Please, Dipper,” she whimpered, in total solitude. “Please come back.”

---

Down in the cave, Alcor leaned on the record player and stared at the ground.

[ Woof! ] Al-V piped up. [ Talk about an overreaction! Want I should take over the security robots outside the building and get them to lock her in a broom closet? ]

“Forget about it,” Alcor murmured. He watched the record begin to spin -- watched the orange points of the sunburst begin to meld into a solid circle -- and imagined a smiling face in the middle. “Forget about her. I don’t need her. All I need is you, and the puzzles.”

[ Whatever you say, Dad! ] Al-V replied. [ You’re the boss, but not like in a video game sense! Ha-ha! You, uh, you gonna solve those puzzles? ]

Alcor closed his eyes for a minute, and the face stuck in his vision. When he opened them again, the record player had stopped, and the puzzles had deactivated.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “Yeah, I’m gonna solve the puzzles. I’m gonna draw the good lines. I’ll be happy.”

He swiped the panel to start the record again, and got to work.

#gravity falls #transcendence au #the witness #dipper pines #alcor the dreambender #mizar #reincarnation #fic #my stuff #long post #the good lines

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