#a very quick little doodle for the au that i still need to finish | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

florwons · 4 months ago

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‧₊˚ ⋅ hurt — nishimura riki ‧ ˚₊‧ (PART 2)

synopsis you swore you hated him. he swore he hated you. yet, something changed when your injury brought you together in unexpected ways. as your arm healed, you couldn't ignore how Niki became increasingly attentive and drawn to you. it was a twist you both never saw coming – was it possible that he was developing feelings for the very person he considered his rival?

pairing rival!niki x fem!reader genre fluff, e2ls, hs au !

warnings implies overthinking, jealous niki

featuring danielle newjeans jungwon enhypen gunwook zerobaseone word count 3.6k+ ( 3692 words ) !

note i am so sorry to keep you guys waiting for so long, i’ve just been quite busy 😵‍💫 ! but, i finally finished part 2 !! tysm for all the love on part one, i really do thank you all !! it was my first written work posted on here, so i’m glad people did enjoy reading it <3 hope you enjoy the second part as well !!

— maybe, read part 1 first ?

“It's painfully obvious that they're into each other!" Danielle whisper-shouts to Jungwon beside her, sneaking a glance in your direction. Jungwon nods in agreement, both of them observing as Niki playfully doodles on your cast while you giggle.

This was far from a usual scene for Danielle and Jungwon, and they couldn't have predicted such a turn of events.

Unbeknownst to both you and Niki, your conversations continued to flow as if you were the only two people in each other's world. "You know, Ki, I have to get this cast off next week," you sigh, observing him pause one of his doodles on your cast. A faint frown appeared on his face, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"I was kind of getting used to you being a one-armed wonder," he remarked, earning himself a playful smack on the shoulder that left him rubbing it. "Geez, did all your arm strength go into that smack?"

"Seems like it. But seriously, my doctor says it should be healed by next week."

"I'm going to miss using your cast as my personal canvas."

"You've practically turned my cast into your own art gallery – every doodle is from you, no one else."

"That's why I do it, kind of like practicing, you know? It's become part of my daily routine," he admitted, his words partially true. Yet, there was undoubtedly more to his attachment. It was almost as if these interactions were the only way for both of you to be close. Secretly, he cherished the sight of his drawings everywhere you went.

Sometimes, he couldn't help but wonder if you thought about him when you looked at your cast. But surely, he couldn't be developing feelings for you, right? It’s just a different feeling this time–a feeling he experienced when he was finally on good terms with someone who had once been his enemy.

"I'll miss it too," you respond, your gaze fixed on the cast, appreciating all the doodles adorning it. Your feelings for him have evidently grown deep, and there's no denying that fact anymore. "But, having both arms back will definitely be good. I still need to get back at you for that one time we coincidentally ended up in the nurse's office together."

"Hey!" His chuckle is contagious, causing you to laugh as well. Unbeknownst to both of you, Danielle and Jungwon are eavesdropping, recognizing that something is brewing between you two.

"Yep, they're definitely into each other," Jungwon declares, though he sighs afterward. "But they seem like the type to stubbornly deny it afterward."

“So, how do we make them realize their feelings?”

“We both need to individually talk to them about their feelings.”

“I like the way you think, Jungwon.”

The two had never stared at a clock so intently before. Lunchtime was drawing near, yet time seemed to be crawling by. "Just a little longer," both Danielle and Jungwon thought, their anticipation growing as the hour hand inched closer to 12. When the bell finally rang, they exchanged a quick smile before rejoining their respective friends.

"Now, if you don't mind, Niki, I'll be stealing my best friend away," Danielle announced to Niki, who looked a bit puzzled but eventually nodded. Equally bewildered, you allowed Danielle to take you away, offering a small wave to Niki as you went.

Seizing the moment, Jungwon remarked with a grin, "Looks like you and YN are getting pretty close!" Niki's nod was met with an unusually wide smile from his best friend, a grin that seemed just a tad wider than usual.

"What's with that grin on your face?"

"What do you mean, Niki?"

"Your smile looks a bit strange."

"Oh, it's nothing. I just find it cute how quickly you and YN are hitting it off. Maybe a bit quicker than expected."

"Is that a problem?"

"No, it wouldn't be a problem if you'd just admit your feelings," Jungwon states matter-of-factly.

Niki comes to an abrupt stop, staring at Jungwon as if trying to process whether he actually heard what was just said. "What?"

"Your feelings for YN," Jungwon repeats.

"Come on, Jungwon, this is ridiculous. I don't have any feelings."

"Are you really sure about that?"

"Yes, I'm absolutely sure. I don't understand why you're even suggesting it."

"Fine, fine. Let's just focus on getting some food. Man, I'm starving," Jungwon sighs, sensing that pressing further won't lead anywhere good. Niki nods, his emotions a jumble, but mainly feeling confused. Why was Jungwon bringing this up all of a sudden? But, he quickly shook off these thoughts, thinking it was just another one of those weird questions he’d ask.

Despite Niki's adamant denial, you found yourself quite honest when Danielle swiftly pulled you out of the classroom. Sensing that something was wrong, you confided in her – the one who had always stood by your side. I mean, what good would it do you if you were to hide it from her?

"Yeah, Dani, I think I might actually like him. And it's kind of freaking me out." You leaned your head on her shoulder once you found a table, seeking some comfort. Danielle offered a reassuring pat on your thigh.

"Why would it be freaking you out? There's nothing wrong with it. You're just feeling uneasy because you two used to hate each other," Danielle pointed out.

"True, but it's just... I don't know, it feels strange."

"Just take your time, okay? You can figure out your feelings for him at your own pace. And who knows, maybe he's feeling the same way."

"I doubt that."

"Hey, don't be so quick to dismiss the idea if you're not sure," Danielle reassured you, her words like a comforting embrace. You hummed in response, genuinely grateful for her unwavering support. Exhaustion seemed to be creeping in, and you found yourself drifting into a light doze, the weight of the situation taking its toll. She allowed you to rest your head on her shoulder, her gaze catching Jungwon and Niki entering the room in perfect timing.

Locking eyes with Jungwon, Danielle shared a smile, a silent acknowledgment that things seemed to be progressing positively between you and your feelings. However, her smile faded slightly as she observed Jungwon's expression, suspecting that Niki might have brushed off any discussions about his feelings. While it might take some time, both Danielle and Jungwon were determined to help bring you and Niki closer.

But five days had since passed, and in the classroom, Jungwon and Danielle were discreetly passing notes, sharing their frustrations and plans regarding your future connection with Niki.

"What should we do, Danielle? Our plans haven't been successful," Jungwon scribbles on a piece of paper, passing it to Danielle beside him. He observes her thoughtful expression as she contemplates a response, then watches as she swiftly writes something down and passes the note back to him. Unfolding the paper, he lets out a small sigh as he reads her words.

"I'm not sure..." Jungwon begins to write a reply, but the teacher's voice cuts through their note exchange, startling them slightly. Were they caught? Were they going to be asked to walk to the front? Anxious glances are exchanged, and the two of them look around, only to spot a new student entering the room.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet our new student, Park Gunwook," the teacher announces. As the shy smile of the newcomer meets the class's greeting, a lightbulb seems to go off in both Danielle and Jungwon's minds. They exchange a knowing glance.

"Let's make Niki jealous."

The universe seemed to be on their side, as the teacher asked Danielle to remind you that you had to tour Gunwook around the school. Not surprised, Danielle sees you with Niki again, distracted in your own conversation with him.

“YN!” Her voice catches your attention, which makes you look her way. Giving her an eyebrow raise, you see her pointing at Gunwook, who had a shy smile on his face. You soon exclaimed, soon realizing what you had to do.

“Oh right! Sorry Niki–I have to help give a tour to the new student.”

“Who?” Niki looked at Danielle’s direction, seeing her and Gunwook together. “Gunwook?”

“Yeah–you weren’t paying attention to what the teacher said to me, did you?”

“Not really,” He pretended to shrug it off. “Why can’t Danielle do it?”

“Well, too late. I already took up the offer. So, see you later?”

“Yeah. See you,” He said as you walked off, watching Gunwook’s smile become wider when you walked by his side. Yeah, Niki did not like that new guy. Not even one bit. Scoffing, Niki reaches for his phone, hoping to distract himself.

“Someone looks mad,” Danielle soon took a seat by his side, soon realizing the change in his behavior.

“Mad about what?”

“Mad about YN leaving with this new guy.”

“It’s just a tour after all.”

“Just a tour,” Danielle couldn’t help but chuckle, but soon stopped by Niki’s sudden glare. “Could be a tour where they get to become friends.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Niki brushes it off, although he wasn’t quite pleased with what Danielle said. “She can do whatever she wants.”

“Sure, Niki. Whatever she wants.”

Walking back from the vending machine with his strawberry milk in hand, Niki's steps faltered as he caught sight of you engaged in a seemingly cheerful conversation with Gunwook. His gaze lingered on the scene for a moment, a mix of emotions swirling within him. A tinge of jealousy gnawed at his chest, but he quickly pushed it aside, reminding himself that he had no right to feel that way.

He took a deep breath and continued walking, forcing himself to focus on his drink and avoid any unnecessary overthinking. Who was he to overthink the situation anyways?

"What's the big deal about him?" Niki's gaze hardened as he observed the two of you, his grip on his strawberry milk tightening. “Surely he can’t be that fun to talk to.” Jungwon couldn't help but let out a chuckle, but his amusement quickly faded when Niki's glare landed on him.

"Feeling a bit jealous, are we?" Jungwon teased.

"Jealous? Don't be ridiculous."

"Then why does it bother you so much? Come on, don't tell me you're clueless about this," Jungwon shot back, taking a casual sip from his drink. "They do seem to have some chemistry, if you ask me."

Niki's frustration was evident as his jaw clenched. He was grappling with emotions he couldn't quite define. The idea of you being with someone else didn't sit well with him, but he wasn't about to admit that openly.

"Whose side are you on, anyway?"

Jungwon flashed a knowing smile. "I'm on the side of the truth. And it's pretty obvious you're feeling something for her."

“Feelings?”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow at Niki's sudden change in tone. “Yeah, yours, you idiot. Why did you become so attached to YN? Weren’t you two rivals before? What changed?” Jungwon asked, soon shushing Niki with his finger. “Don’t answer that—you have feelings for her. That’s why. Isn’t it obvious?”

Niki huffed, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. He took a deep sip of his strawberry milk, as if trying to drown out his own thoughts. "You're reading too much into it.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Jungwon's fingers latched onto Niki's ear, causing him to wince in discomfort. Amid his struggle to free himself from Jungwon's grip, Niki abandoned the grip he had on his strawberry milk.

"Jungwon, cut it out! Seriously, I'm not sure if I even... ow! Ow! Fine, fine! I do... ow! Will you let go already?" Niki's voice swung between irritation and a hint of resignation as he massaged his ear once Jungwon finally released it, his scowl directed at his persistent friend.

Jungwon smirked, a triumphant glint in his eyes. "See? Admitting it isn't that bad, is it?"

Niki huffed, his cheeks slightly flushed from a mix of frustration and embarrassment. "Don't get too smug about it. And you better not tell anyone else, got it?"

"You have my word, my secretive friend." Jungwon's grin only grew wider, relishing in the small victory of nudging Niki to confront his feelings, even if it had involved a bit of ear-tugging persuasion.

Now, Jungwon just needed to find a way to convince him to confess his feelings. Texting Danielle immediately, it was time to put part two to the plan in action.

“Why is he here?” Niki whispered softly into Jungwon’s ear, raising his eyebrow at you and Gunwook sitting down together, laughing at each other.

“Cause he is our friend now!” Jungwon said with a big smile, pleased with the frown placed on Niki’s face. Danielle seemed to notice the two before you did, giving a way. Jungwon waved enthusiastically, while Niki gave a small one. Did you not notice him walking into the mall too?

“Hey!” Danielle called out, which finally drew your attention to Jungwon and Niki approaching. You acknowledged them, waving and giving Niki a smile, which brought a hint of color to his cheeks. He guessed that if you were here, then it was okay for Gunwook to join too.

Soon, you and the rest of the group decided to explore random stores in the mall, browsing through clothes, snacks, and everything in between. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, chatting and laughing as they moved from one store to another. At least, that’s what you thought, while Niki felt differently.

Niki could sense that you and Gunwook were growing closer, which bothered him more than he'd like to admit. He couldn't understand why Danielle seemed so unconcerned about the two of you spending more time together, and it baffled him even more that Jungwon wasn't worried. After all, Jungwon had been the one who forced Niki to confess his feelings for you to him, yet he wasn't doing anything or even encouraging him to take action.

However, Niki tried to ignore his thoughts, but he couldn’t shake the twinge of jealousy that tugged at him every time you and Gunwook shared a laugh or whispered to each other. He trailed slightly behind, trying to focus on Jungwon and Danielle's conversation, but his attention kept drifting back to you.

Eventually, you all found a table at the food court, settling down before deciding on what to eat. “Should we just get popcorn chicken? I’m not that hungry,” Danielle suggested, and everyone agreed.

“That sounds good. I can go buy them—just watch over my stuff,” you offered, standing up to make the purchase. Niki noticed Gunwook about to rise from his seat to join you, something he definitely didn't want to happen. Acting on impulse, Niki quickly stood up. “I’ll go with you, Y/N.”

“Huh? Oh—sure!” you replied, a bit surprised. Gunwook also seemed taken aback by Niki’s sudden eagerness, and he slowly sat back down.

As you and Niki walked together toward the food stall, he tried to relax and focus on enjoying your company. “You two seem to have gotten close, huh?” Niki ventured, hoping to find answers to his own thoughts.

“Oh, with Gunwook?” you replied thoughtfully. “He’s been texting me more lately, so I’m more comfortable with him now, even though I don’t hang out with him much during school hours and such.”

“So, you want to hang out with him more during school hours too?” Niki asked, sounding slightly defeated as he jumped to conclusions.

You looked at him, confused, which snapped him out of his thoughts. “I wouldn’t mind it, but I’d prefer spending time with you, Danielle, and Jungwon. After all, we are closer, don’t you think?”

Niki nodded in response, feeling both relieved and uneasy. He would have been more content if you hadn’t mentioned the first part, but he’d take what he could get for now.

It wasn’t long before the two of you returned to the rest of the group, finished up your food, and decided to head to the arcade. Even with your reassuring words, the comfort they gave Niki was fleeting. As soon as you arrived at the arcade, Gunwook seemed to cling to you more than ever, almost as if he was doing it on purpose.

Niki hated being apart from you and found it hard to shake the feeling of jealousy that gnawed at him. It had been a long time since Niki had disliked someone this much.

Much to his dislike, Danielle and Jungwon seemed to catch onto Niki and Gunwook’s behavior. They whispered among themselves and managed to distract Gunwook, leaving you and Niki alone for a moment.

You and Niki were at the claw machines, and you cheered him on as he focused on getting a duck plush. “Come on, Niki, I know you’re good at these!”

“Yeah, I should be better than Gunwook,” he blurted out before panicking internally and trying to concentrate on the prize in front of him.

If he didn’t say anything about it, you’d— “Huh? What about Gunwook?”

Niki laughed it off nervously, saying, “You seem to be having a great time with Gunwook today, so I figured he’d be trying his hand at the claw machines too and showing off his skills, you know.”

“Are you trying to say you’ll be better than Gunwook at this?”

“I am better at this than him—just watch, I’ll impress you,” Niki said, pressing his lips together in concentration. He let out a muffled sound of despair as the plush dropped again.

You watched Niki with growing amusement, starting to connect the pieces. His comments about Gunwook, his sudden eagerness to join you at the food stall, and the way he seemed on edge whenever Gunwook was around—everything pointed to one conclusion. Instead of feeling confused, you felt flustered, realizing that Niki might be jealous of Gunwook.

“Niki,” you said softly, trying to hide your smile, “you don’t have to impress me. I already think you’re amazing.”

Niki paused, glancing at you with a hint of surprise in his eyes. “Really?” he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

“Yeah,” you nodded, feeling your cheeks getting warm. “So instead of trying to impress me with a claw machine, why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”

Niki hesitated, looking down at his shoes for a moment before meeting your eyes again. There was a vulnerability in his expression that you hadn’t seen before, a mix of uncertainty and hope.

“I…” He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I guess I’ve been a little jealous today. I didn’t like seeing Gunwook so close to you, and it made me realize how much I care about you.”

You smiled softly, appreciating his honesty. “I kind of thought so,” you admitted. “And for what it’s worth, I really like spending time with you, too.”

A small smile crept onto Niki’s face, relief washing over him. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You both stood there for a moment, the noise of the arcade fading into the background.

With the silence hanging between you, Niki cleared his throat, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He turned his attention back to the claw machine, his determination renewed as he focused on winning the duck plush.

“I’m going to get this for you,” he declared, a hint of playful defiance in his voice. “Not because I’m trying to impress you, but because I want to.”

You chuckled softly, watching him maneuver the claw with renewed focus. “No pressure, but I have faith in you,” you teased, leaning closer to the machine.

He finally managed to win the duck plush, pulling it from the machine with a triumphant grin. “Well, then,” he said, offering it to you with a shy smile, “this is for you.”

"Thank you, Niki," you smiled, hugging the plush to your chest. Continuing to tease him, you added, "So, I'm taking this as your way of saying 'I like you' indirectly, hm?"

Niki's eyes widened slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red. “Don’t get ahead of yourself…”

“Oh? So, you’re fine with me going back to Gunwook?” you teased, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“Hey, don’t say that,” Niki glared. “Fine, I like you a lot. More than I could’ve imagined.” he admitted with a shy smile. “So, there’s no way I’m letting Gunwook win you over.”

You smiled, “I was just kidding, anyway. I only ever had eyes on you.”

“Really?” he said, sounding both confused and relieved that you felt the same way all along.

“Why do you think I asked you to get me that duck plush, huh?”

“Why?”

“Because it reminds me of you. That’s why I wanted you to get it, so it could mean even more.”

“Really? I look like that duck?” He pointed at the plush in your hand, showing a mock disgusted expression, which made you laugh.

“Of course!” you replied with a playful grin.

“I think we could’ve gotten a better…representation. Maybe something cooler?” Niki pestered.

“Whatever you say, you’ll still forever look like a duck to me,” you shrugged. “The duck is cute, and you’re cute too.

Niki chuckled, shaking his head. “You have a weird way of saying you like me too.”

“Well, if that didn’t come off too clear—I like you more, Niki.”

“Now, if you really liked me, you would totally associate me with a cooler animal, wouldn’t you?” Niki jokes.

“Hmm, I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” you chuckled. “But for now, you definitely suit this adorable duck. Now, come on, let’s go meet up with the rest.” With a playful grin, you grabbed his hand and tugged him along, holding onto the duck plush that now symbolized him in your eyes.

Niki playfully rolled his eyes, but soon a sheepish grin spread across his face. He was willing to go along with whatever you said or wanted; being with you felt perfect, and he hoped moments like these would last forever.

( thank you for joining >< ) @cha3w0n-hearts @k1ttylvr @feitem @honey-bunnysweet

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u3pxx · 5 months ago

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✱ frequently asked questions!

hey there, the name’s den/sun! i’m a filipino artist with too many ideas and too little sleep! i mainly post and draw ace attorney and disco elysium with the occasional dungeon meshi drawing. i also like good omens, danganronpa, tmnt 2012, undertale/deltarune, mob psycho 100, splatoon, fairly odd parents: a new wish, haikyuu, and pokemon! :^]c

rest of the faq under read more (because it's very long lol) | dividers from here! | faq will be updated every now and then

what program do you use?

old answer: i use clip studio paint ex! as of 06/24/2023: i use clip studio paint pro v3 for illustrations and clip studio paint v1 ex for animatics

what brush do you use?

old answer: i mainly use the gasa gaya line pen for sketching and the t-pen for both sketching and inking as of 09/22/2023: i use the koya pen for sketching and inking and the gasa gaya line pen for inking occasionally. as of 12/19/2023: i use the a pen that feels like a pencil (鉛筆を感じる液だまりペン) with the pen pressure opacity turned on for sketching (i also use it for inking occasionally). i don’t ink that much right now but i still also use the gasa gaya line pen for it. as of 03/07/2024: i use both the a pen that feels like a pencil (鉛筆を感じる液だまりペン) and calish ink for both sketching and inking. as of 07/08/2024: i use the dry ink brush on clip studio paint.

do you do commissions?

yes, i do! currently closed right now because i’m a student and art school is hard but feel free to take a quick look here if you would be so interested! :^] however, i do occasionally open 2 slots for sketch commissions whenever i’m in need of some money so watch out for that pftt <3

do you sell prints?

yep! i have an inprnt!

where else can we find you?

you can find me both in twitter, Instagram, and art fight! i also have a youtube where i haven’t posted in 4 years pftt

can we use your drawings?

you can use my drawings for profile pictures, banners, even your little tiktok video edits as long as i'm credited (with a link back to my art account, please!) (also if you did do little tiktok edits with my art can you please send them to me i would be so delighted to see them) just so we’re clear too, i don’t allow reposting of my art on other social media without my permission or credit. thanks!

can you draw [insert thing here]?

i don’t do requests! and usually, when i ask for things to draw, it depends if i’m feeling up to it so sorry if i don’t!

can i draw fanart of your au’s/oc’s?

YES! please, i’d be so dang honored! and please tag me too if you ever post it so i could see it and reblog it here! :^D (and also gush wail cry and scream about it forever and ever)

what does your username “u3pxx” mean?

it’s just my name den upside down, the x’s are because my old selfsona design had x’s for pupils and i wanted to incorporate that.

what does your tag “pampabait” mean?

pampabait (pam‧pa‧ba‧it) is a tagalog word that loosely means “to make [something] kind”, since the prefix “pampa-” is used to denote the causing of a state and “bait” means “kind”! the way i use it is also kind of referencing the phrase "nasisiraan ng bait" (losing one's mind/starting to feel insane). it's just a tag i use for some wholesome stuff i see that would stop me from going I HATE EVERYTHING FORVEVERRRR

have you played all the ace attorney games?

i have not! only because i got into ace attorney via let’s plays, instead. me and some friends are however trying to finish dgs though we haven’t been able to play for a long time pftt. we’re currently still on dgs2-1.

who’s your favorite ace attorney character?

look at me in the eye, boy. wheezes but it is apollo justice, trucy wright, and klavier gavin.

TAG DIRECTORY

✱ GENERAL TAGS

#sunnysidedraws - all of my polished drawings or doodles i consider high-effort #sunnysidedoodles - stuff that i wouldn’t consider polished but hey, they’re cute lmao #sunnysideanswers - all of my answered asks #sunnysiderambles - my general thoughts, rambles, or whatever #sunnysidetutorials - answered asks on how i do certain art stuff of mine #sunnysidelb - liveblogs of whatever i’m watching/reading #sunnysideplays - liveblogs of the games i play (it's just pokemon right now lol) #sunnysidepolls - whatever polls i make up #sunnysidezines - for previews and the finished pieces of all the zines i’ve been in

✱ ART TAG DIRECTORY (in case you just only wanna see the stuff i drew for a specific thing)

#sunnysideattorney - ace attorney art #sunnysideomens - good omens art (includes bad omens) #sunnysidedisco - disco elysium art #sunnysidemeshi - dungeon meshi art #sunnysidepotions - potionomics art #sunnysideprom - monster prom art #sunnysidemons - pokemon art #sunnysidefairies - fairly odd parents: a new wish art #sunnysideball - haikyuu art #den’s gavinners tag - includes all of my gavinners ocs art, rambles, asks i’ve answered about them, and other posts that reminded me of them #den’s aa roleswap au - what it says on the tin, includes my art and also art that others made for the au! :’^D i also have a sideblog specifically for it #den’s bad omens - has all my stuff and art others made for my good omens roleswap au! #disco femlysium - art of fem!harry and fem!kim (and everybody else) #den's disco swap - art of my disco elysium roleswap au #disco meshi au - art of my dungeon meshi au for disco elysium

#sunnysiderambles #i dont know if i tag this one with anything lol #bc tumblr mobile won't let me link my old faq sighs

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antique-traveler · 3 years ago

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ok ok but literally imagine an AU where matt is a professor and foggy is a student (not a problematic age gap i swear. matt’s a young professor) where karen is kinda like matt’s assistant teacher (she teaches some lessons from a journalism standpoint and she’s always hanging around with him)

anyways, theyre like the ‘cool teachers’ (like the teachers that everyone’s comfortable making a dirty joke with and they do prank wars every now and then, that type beat)

foggy’s a student along with marci, and let’s just say on day one of that class he’s already absolutely head over heels for this hot professor that has an absolutely adorable smile and laugh. but as time goes on, foggy sees how karen and matt interact and is mortified when marci makes a comment about them making a cute couple. his fantasy ends pretty fast after that. of course, matt and karen aren’t dating (lesbian karen rights) but they’re that type of besties where they’re always platonically touching (maybe a goodbye kiss but they’re both touch starved and single and i believe in kissing ur homies

so foggy has to just COPE until one day (maybe in june for pride) matt mentions that he’s gay and foggy just GAPES

okay so i tweaked this a little bit and made matt and karen both be ta's, just cause you usually need a lot of experience to be an actual professor and i didn't want this to be a problematic age gap thing lol. thank you so much for the request!!

1.6k, T, no warnings

Foggy felt like such a cliche. From the second he stepped into his Contracts Law class for the first time, he immediately had the most embarrassing, juvenile, heart-stuttering, cheek-reddening crush on one of the teacher’s assistants. Don’t get him wrong, both of the TA’s were smoking hot, and Karen had a certain naive charm to her, but something about that boy, Matt, just wormed its way into Foggy’s brain, and he couldn’t get him off his mind. His shy smile, the well-built frame that hid beneath his loose sweatshirts, his quick wit and biting sense of humor, everything about him made Foggy’s heart go into overdrive.

Marci had noticed, of course she had, and made it her personal duty to make Foggy’s life a living hell. Every single time they walked into the lecture hall together, every single time, Marci would start quietly humming Hot for Teacher, only loud enough for Foggy to hear. She made jokes about the doe eyes that Foggy very much did not make at Matt, thank you very much, she sighed wistfully every time Foggy even mentioned his name, she even went as far as to cover a sheet of paper in doodles of “Mr. Foggy Murdock” and “Foggy + Matt = 2Gether 4Ever” and hide it in one of his notebooks. She was insufferable.

Even worse than that, though, was the fact that Matt was obviously straight, and obviously dating Karen. When Professor Hale went on one of his long, arduous lectures, the two of them would sit pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, snickering to each other all the while. They walked to and from class together, sometimes Karen would even come in wearing one of Matt’s hoodies. Between the embarrassment of having a crush on his TA, Marci’s constant joking, and Matt and Karen’s obvious relationship, Foggy was, to put it simply, living in hell.

Even if Professor Hale was boring as sin, Foggy still tended to like his class, if only because of the twenty to thirty minutes there always was left at the end of the lecture. Foggy had a chance to get a head start on his homework, sometimes even finish it, and Matt and Karen would go out into the class to mingle with students. It was, of course, under the guise of helping anyone with any questions they had, but for the most part they tended to just hang out and joke around. The downside though, was that they clearly preferred to hand out and joke around with Foggy and Marci. Foggy was sure this was some sort of karmic punishment for a horrible sin he’d committed in a past life.

It was mid-October when the four of them first really clicked. Professor Hale finished his lesson about twenty minutes early and forgotten to give anyone homework, so Foggy got to spend the whole time just hanging out with Marci, Karen, and Matt, all the while putting in a very conscious effort to not act as stupid and lovesick as he was.

Foggy couldn’t take his eyes off of Matt. He spoke with such an ease and confidence, it was nearly impossible to not hang onto his every word. His jokes were perfectly timed, and expertly walked the line between bitingly sarcastic and sincerely good-natured. Foggy could listen to him talk about anything, from the weather to the Supreme Court. The tone of his voice, the way he gestured with his hands as he spoke, the subtle bob of his Adam’s apple, all of it was magnetic.

Eventually the lecture hall was empty, except for their little ragtag group of four, and Foggy was starting to actually relax. He was feeling all warm and light at the way Matt laughed at one of his jokes, when he was interrupted by an alarm going off on Marci’s phone.

“Oh, shit,” she said, staring at the screen scornfully. “I have a study group at the library I’m gonna be late for, I gotta go.”

Karen perked up. “Oh, I was gonna head to the Law Library today, too. Let’s walk together.” She stood and handed Marci her bag from where it was resting on the chair next to her.

“For sure,” Marci said brightly. She turned back and smiled sharply at Foggy and Matt. “You boys have fun.” Foggy was gonna kill her.

Karen paused by the door for Marci to catch up, and raised her voice slightly. “Movie night at my place tonight, right, Matt?”

Matt turned toward her. “Yeah, uh, Roman Holiday, right?”

“Yeah! See you then!” Karen held the door open for Marci, and the next thing he knew, Foggy and Matt were alone.

A thick silence hung between them, and Foggy felt like he had to break it or else he’d molt out of his skin like a spider. “You, uh, watching the classics or something?”

“Yeah,” Matt smiled, “Karen says I need to pay more attention to pop culture.”

Foggy snickered. “Does she know that Roman Holiday came out in, like, the 50’s? I don’t know if it’s really pop culture anymore at this point.”

“That’s what I told her,” Matt said with a laugh, “but she thinks I need to spend less time studying, so she’s just making me watch as many movies as possible. I actually almost agree with her.”

“Do you not have any, like, hobbies?” Foggy asked, letting himself ease into the conversation a little more.

“Probably not as many as I should. I mean, I work out, but I don’t know if that counts as a hobby, per se. Karen’s been trying to get me to relax more, though, so I’ve started hanging out with her and her girlfriend recently. It was actually her girlfriend that suggested we do a movie night.”

Foggy blinked dumbly and tried to process that information. “Oh, I thought– I thought you and Karen were, like, together.”

Matt scrunched up his nose and laughed. “Oh, no. We both… play for different teams.”

“Oh,” Foggy said before realizing what Matt meant. “Oh! So, you’re…”

“Gay,” Matt finished with a smile. “So’s Karen.”

“C–Cool! Yeah, I’m bisexual, so, you know, go– good for you. For us. Cause we’re both– well, all three of us are. Like that. Gay. Or– or bi, in my case.” Foggy was about to sprint out of the room and into oncoming traffic.

Matt, thank God, just laughed and changed the subject, letting Foggy blush like a middle schooler in peace until they eventually headed back to their respective dorms.

Foggy shut the door to his thankfully empty dorm with a sigh and immediately pulled out his phone. He paced nervously around the room as he waited for Marci to pick up, probably wearing a hole into the carpet.

“What’s up, Foggy Bear?” Marci said through the phone once she picked up.

Foggy’s head snapped up and he stopped pacing. “Did you know that Matt and Karen aren’t together?”

“Well, yeah. They’re both gay,” she answered matter-of-factly.

“And you just, what, let me keep believing they were dating to fuck with me?”

“Yep,” Marci said, her voice cool and even. “I’m glad you finally figured it out, it was starting to get a little boring.”

“Marci, what the genuine, actual fuck?” Foggy started pacing again, anxiously running a hand through his hair. “You’ve been teasing me for months about liking a straight guy who is literally the exact opposite of straight.”

“Uh-huh. I like watching you squirm.” With that, she hung up and left Foggy pacing in his room in silence. Maybe he could get Matt to be his lawyer when he went to trial for killing Marci in cold blood.

A week later and Foggy was back in his Contracts Law class, still giving Marci the stink eye and still having heart palpitations every time Matt smiled at him. This time, as the four of them chatted at the end of class, Matt seemed stiffer, quieter than he usually did, his leg bounced anxiously and his cheeks had a slight pink flush that didn’t seem to fade.

Eventually, class came to a close, and the four of them stood up to go their separate ways. Well, the four of them except for Matt, who stayed in his seat and bit his lip. “Hey, Foggy, hold on a second,” he called out once Foggy was a few yards away.

Foggy felt his heart jump into his throat and he stepped back towards Matt. “What’s up?”

Matt seemed to straighten out, that confident smile made its way back onto his face, and his voice regained the same self-assured clarity it always had. “Do you wanna get some coffee sometime? Just the two of us? There’s a great place just across the street from the Law Library that I think you’ll like.”

Foggy didn’t know if his heart was still in his throat, because he was pretty sure it stopped beating entirely. Did insanely hot Matt Murdock just ask him out? Like, on a date?

Matt blushed a fantastic shade of red and laughed. “Yeah, I did.”

“Wha- fuck, did I actually say that out loud?” Foggy asked, praying for the building to get nuked so he wouldn’t have to deal with the embarrassment that was crawling its way through his chest.

“Yeah. Glad to know you think I’m hot, though. Definitely makes me a little more confident that you’ll say yes.” Matt’s blush receded slightly and his smile turned cocky.

“Uh, y– yeah, yes! I’d love to get coffee with you!”

“Great, does tomorrow work for you? Around ten?”

“Yes! Perfect! Tomorrow at ten!”

Matt stood up and grabbed his shoulder bag, giving Foggy’s arm a squeeze before unfolding his cane and heading towards the door. “Cool. I’ll see you then, Foggy.”

Foggy didn’t even respond, just felt his insides turn into a sort of warm, mushy goo that made him feel floaty all over.

Ten minutes later, he slammed his door and pulled out his phone. “Fuck you, Marci, turns out teacher’s hot for me, too.”

#my fic #request #anon #daredevil #mattfoggy #matt murdock #netflix daredevil #matt murdock x foggy nelson #nmcu #daredevil fanfiction

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thetriggeredhappy · 3 years ago

Note

in the dadspy au, what if jeremy was just going to be an assistant/cook/janitor at the base while his dad was being the mercenary (since spy didnt want him to follow the "career" but didnt want to be separated from him), but then jeremy turned out to be even better than the hired scout so they promote him to that position and spy is not happy with this at all

ok i was gonna put this in the queue to post but im impatient because im happy with this one. only thing i didnt have was spy being upset by this development

(warnings for canon-typical violence, discussion of mercenary-type things, paranoia, alcohol, and exactly one proper fight scene. consider this pg-13)

“Would you prefer the good news first, or the bad news?” Dad asked.

Jeremy looked up at him from where he’d snatched up the sunday comics from his dad’s newspaper and was doodling little hats on the characters while they waited for their food to arrive. “Uh,” he said, “good news first.”

“Alright. The good news is, do you remember that line I’ve been tailing? The one in New Mexico?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jeremy said, then nodded a little more confidently. “Immunity, safehouse, somethin’ like that, right?”

“...Something like that,” Dad agreed carefully, and that made him raise an eyebrow. “It went well, and I think there’s the very real possibility that I’ve all but closed the deal, all they want now is an interview.”

“...Interview, singular,” Jeremy said slowly.

“That’s where the bad news begins. Unfortunately... merde, how to phrase this?” He drew a hand down his face. “They’re fully willing to hire me on, but this is a more... corporate affair than I’m used to. They have rules, stipulations. Long story short, they will not hire you as a mercenary on the basis of your age.”

Jeremy tensed. “What?” he demanded. “That’s stupid, I’m old enough to drive and buy guns and whatever the hell else.”

“But not rent a car, at least in many places in the United States.”

“But—“ he started, and remembered they were in public, and lowered his voice to a hiss, leaning in. “We’re hired killers, thieves, criminals. Do they really think we’re above having fakes? False documentation?”

“Actually, that is one of their requirements,” Dad said dryly, taking a paper from his jacket and consulting it. “I’m not happy about it either, mon lapin, but those are their rules. Already they have slightly bent them for one individual, and already I am on thin ice. But I may have a way to manage this.”

“Yeah?” Jeremy asked, nervous now.

“I know the woman responsible for new hires and managing the team I’ve applied for. She owes me a favor—a fairly hefty one. When I go in for the interview, one of my demands will include you being hired on, not as a mercenary, but for... for custodial purposes, something like that. Cook, janitor, security guard, secretary—whatever job there is that needs doing there, and I am sure that there will be one. Something to allow you to live there. Pay will likely be her stipulation, and the play I hope to make is that really, you’re overqualified for the position and she’s lucky to have someone so competent available, and in the worst case scenario, the pay is still good enough even for just one of us that we will not cut too deeply into the savings.”

The savings. That made Scout blink, because they only ever brought up the savings when—

“You think this could be it?” he asked quietly. “Like, it it?”

A hard exhale, and he leaned his cheek on his hand. “Potentially,” he finally said. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but the job promises a variety of things. Medical attention available, extremely low levels of danger, and most of all, confidentiality. The only people who will know any name we give them would be the woman in charge of hiring us and their singular medical professional. There is no mode of communication to or from the compound outside of emergency lines to the organization and a single secure payphone located two miles away, there is no civilization within a twenty-five minute drive minimum, and this operation has been going long enough that the local authorities have long since grown used to being paid off, and likely don’t even remember what for anymore. I cash in a few valuable favors and ask this employer to turn a blind eye, we’d have somewhere remote and secure to spend our time after our deaths are faked and once the contract is over, we can start over. No ties to the past.”

“Freedom,” Jeremy marveled.

Silence for a few seconds, broken only by the quiet chatter of the rest of the diner. “I want to warn you, this work may not be glamorous. It may not even be particularly easy. I’m giving you the option of saying no,” Dad said.

“What?! Yes, hell yes, are you joking? To get us to living like normal people? Steady work? Livin’ in one place? Count me in!” he laughed.

“What if the job is something you won’t enjoy? Long hours, boring work?” Dad asked, entirely serious.

“I’m still on board.”

“What if the other people working there are rude to you? Disrespectful?”

“Well most of the people I meet through our job now try to kill us, so really it’s an upgrade.”

“What if there’s no diner nearby?” he asked, and there was a glint of humor in his eye.

“Damn, sorry, that’s the dealbreaker,” he joked right back, and that made him snort, shake his head, greet the waitress as she came back with their coffee and soda and then informed them that their food would be out shortly.

“I’ll ask,” was what Dad said once she was gone again, and that was that, and they started driving to New Mexico two nights later.

“—A warm welcome to our two newest recruits. This is the Spy, and this is the Guard.”

“Guard?” asked one of the men at the table, his accent thick and distinctly Russian. It made Jeremy tense slightly, but he didn’t let it show.

“Night Guard,” Jeremy answered, voice clipped.

“He’s not technically hired on as a mercenary like you all, he won’t be joining you on missions,” the short woman apparently named Miss Pauling (Jeremy was fairly sure it was a fake name) said, hands folded in front of her neatly. “He’s here to work security. Keep an eye out during the night, filter through the camera footage, handle the archiving, things like that.”

“We’re hiring on a civvie now?” asked another man, thick Scottish accent a little harder to digest than the eyepatch and the grenade he was in the process of fiddling with the internal mechanisms of.

“He’s combat ready, and will still be armed. His job is to essentially make sure you’re all safe enough to sleep through the night,” Miss Pauling said.

“I’m not some chump,” Jeremy agreed. “I know my stuff.”

“How old is he?” another man asked, this one in a hardhat with a heavy drawl, looking concerned.

“Twenty, for your information,” Jeremy said, a little sharply, eyes narrowed.

“If you have any other questions, there’ll be time later on. For now, I do need to show our two newest recruits where they’ll be staying,” Miss Pauling cut in.

There was an audible scoff from one of the men at the table, a dramatic rolling of eyes. Jeremy glared at him. He unfolded and refolded his extremely tattoo’d tree-trunk-like arms, tugging the visor of his hat between. “Sorry,” he said, accent thick and distinctly Californian. “I just don’t have the most trust for some scrawny kid in slacks and creep in a ski mask.”

“Scout, don’t start,” Miss Pauling warned.

“Just saying,” this man, apparently called Scout, muttered under his breath regardless.

“Don’t,” she said again, more firmly, and ignored the second eye roll she got for the trouble. “If you two would follow me.”

And they were shown around the base, and Jeremy in particular was shown into a room stuck behind three locked doors, where he found camera feeds and recording equipment. She gave him a basic overview and a thick packet of instructions and policies labelled ‘highly classified’ and a phone number to call if he had any further questions, and a set of hours that were apparently meant to become the new standard for him (with the quiet addendum that if he finished early that was alright, and that technically he could turn in early if two or more members of the team were already awake for the day and he was caught up on the archiving of old tapes).

Then he was left to “get used to the equipment”, which he assumed meant his dad was getting a similar rundown of his job, and it took a pretty quick glance through the packet to understand that clearly this place ran on an extremely secretive and closely monitored series of systems. In the packet, between the sections on camera maintenance and operation hours, were a few sheets detailing what were apparently the movement patterns of the various members of the team, including frequented locations and previously recorded large-scale infractions (mostly on the part of the Soldier, the Medic, the Scout, and one from the Demoman).

He wasn’t the one with the title Spy, but fuck, it seemed like he might as well have it. His entire job wasn’t even necessarily to keep the team safe overnight—he was just meant to watch all of them to make sure nobody was anywhere or doing anything out of the ordinary.

The next time he saw his dad, waiting outside the infirmary to get some sort of physical evaluation, his face was arranged carefully enough that he could tell he’d figured out something was up, too.

“Got your job assignments?” he asked quietly in French, glancing towards the door into the infirmary.

A nod, a glance. “I’m intrigued by the methods used in employee evaluation,” he deadpanned. “Especially the fact that apparently, they’re willing to assign employees for the explicit task of doing them.”

“How often?”

“Weekly.”

“Thorough,” Jeremy deadpanned, and glanced towards the hall at the distant sound of laughter, echoing from somewhere else on the base. “That’s basically mine too.”

There was a long silence, and when Jeremy looked back over, his dad was giving him an almost expectant look, waiting. All he had to offer him was a shrug, which was returned after a moment with a vague shake of the head. “I don’t believe it will be a problem,” his dad said simply. “Not for us, at the very least.”

Jeremy nodded. “Yeah. Uh, anyways, good luck with the… physical, or whatever,” he said, and received a pat on the shoulder before he walked back off down the hall, hoping to figure out what exactly he was supposed to do with an entire room all to himself. He’d almost never had one before.

He was used to time changes and jet lag, to needing to switch his sleep schedule on the regular, but the switch to a straight up night shift was a rough one.

His nine-to-five was actually a ten-to-six, as in 10 PM through 6 AM. This meant that, assuming he managed to get his schedule in order, he’d be able to join in on the team dinners if he woke up early and could eat breakfast with them before he went to bed.

Very quickly he realized that going to dinner and breakfast with the team was going to become a staple part of his routine, because it didn’t take long before he began to feel extremely lonely all of the time. In a dark little room, everyone else asleep, scrubbing through tapes from during the day while half keeping an eye on the live feed from around the base that never showed much of anything, it was brutal. It was suffocating.

It was easy, at least. It didn’t take long before he got efficient at it and could start zoning out, and it wasn’t like he was under much pressure. His was the only room without any cameras in it. Security risk, apparently.  And to be honest, what small amount he and Dad interacted with mercenaries and other criminal types, Jeremy didn’t really tend to like them much. A lot of them were loud and rude and had the potential to turn around and try and kill them whenever they felt like it. He didn’t expect that he’d like the team as much as he did. He especially didn’t expect to like them so much without ever really talking to them.

But watching the camera feeds from throughout the day, seeing what they were up to, they were just... nice people. Soldier out by the dumpsters practicing rocket jumps and wrangling raccoons and apparently trying to learn how to spin a rifle, Pyro’s regular minor explosions in the kitchen while cooking and the surprised and frantic way they cleaned it up every time, the Demoman’s tendency to whistle wherever he went, watching through the feed as they all played cards and argued and jostled each other. They all seemed really nice. Really cool. Really dorky, too, but mostly just really nice and really cool.

And there were a few of them he was less sure about—he couldn’t get eyes on the Medic most of the time, what with the one camera in the Medbay being tilted down at an angle that made it hard to see much of anything but the occasional bird (probably by those same birds). The Heavy tended to just sit and read, and was pretty much silent most of the time otherwise. The Scout tended to leave the base pretty often. And the Sniper didn’t even live on base, he had a van outside that he could only occasionally see movement in when he squinted at the far edge of the camera leading outside. But even then, Heavy and Sniper mostly just seemed quiet, and Medic just seemed busy, and the Scout just seemed like a little bit of a dickhead.

But then one day when Jeremy was at breakfast the Heavy caught him leaning to try to get a look at the cover of the book he was reading, and he blurted that he was just wondering what book was so great that he’d stay up until like four in the morning reading, and then the entire team was gawking at him and asking questions and insisting that it was insane that there was someone actually watching all those cameras, and he shrugged and said there was always supposed to be someone watching the tapes back it was just usually some office worker type a hundred miles away. And they seemed almost... upset with him. And maybe that was fair, it wasn’t like he ever talked to any of them much, mostly he just spent breakfast and dinner half-asleep and listening to their chatter. And Demoman admitted that he’d honestly assumed that Jeremy slept his entire shift, he just always looked so tired at breakfast. There was almost this discomfort. This distrust.

And so, now that the jig was up, he made it a point to say some things to certain members of the team. To tell the Medic that his camera was tilted down so that he couldn’t see most of the room, and to very pointedly say that it was weird how that happened and that he didn’t know why they set it up like that in the first place, but it was really none of his business. Made it a point to warn the Engineer in the morning that the previous night, Soldier had been doing something in the fridge for a while, and to maybe check the labels before he made breakfast. Made it a point to tell the Demoman that the camera in his workshop was right in plain sight, and that if he moved one of his blackboards an inch or two to the left, it would obscure the room a pretty hefty amount. Made it a point to tell the Sniper that the camera on the rooftop seemed to be glitching out, and it’d just sort of lost the tapes of the previous two nights, and that it was really unfortunate since for all he knew there might have been someone ignoring the signs about there being no personnel allowed up there.

In return, he found that Pyro would sometimes make little sparkly notes with smiley faces on them and stick them to the door to the security room. That Sniper started tipping his hat at the camera above the door into the base from the garage. That on occasional drinking nights, the team would suddenly turn and start waving at the camera, laughing the whole way. On one night in particular he could hear through the low-quality and tinny speakers that they were trying to cajole him into leaving the security room for a while to join them for cards, and god, but he wanted to.

And he noticed more things. Soldier walking with a slight limp some days when rocket jumps had rough landings. Being able to count the doves in the infirmary and even tell them apart to some extent through blurry close-ups. The Engineer making it a point to sweep really regularly regardless of what project he was working on.

And then he noticed a weird thing.

It took him a long time to get used to the patterns of hallways, the cameras not really lined up linearly after a while, too many branching paths. He learned to follow progress, to flick from one camera to the next as someone walked around corners. And for a while he thought maybe he wasn’t very good at it.

Until he realized two things. First of all, that in a hallway where he knew there were five doors, he could only see four—apparently the door to Pyro’s room was just barely out of sight of the camera. He only figured it out because one day it swung open wide enough to almost bang against the wall.

And then, when he realized there was somehow that massive blindspot, that there was a corner with a blindspot too. One where that Scout kept disappearing.

He watched a few more times to make sure, and yep. He’d see the Engineer walking around the corner, flick to the next screen, and there he was, continuing down the hallway. And then later that same day, the Scout, walking, and flick to the next camera, and he wasn’t there.

One of the worse parts of the job was that he never got to see Dad anymore, never got to just sort of hang out the way they did all the time when he was growing up, and he knew he would miss it but he didn’t know how much. And he found it was even worse when he had something important to say, doubly so when he had something important to say but no idea if it was actually important.

He tried to bring it up casually, in the like ten minutes of time he ever got alone to talk to Dad. Dad was fighting the kettle trying to make some tea and he was trying to stay awake long enough to figure out how he was going to say this.

“Uh,” he said, and Dad looked at him. “So, uh, what’s the read you’re getting on that Scout guy?”

“Lazy,” Dad shrugged, looked back at the kettle. “Arrogant. He seems to care very little about doing his job correctly and has horrible communication on the field.”

“Right, right,” he nodded, fought a yawn down. “Uh. So like, kind of a dickhead.”

“Indeed,” Dad said, nodding vaguely.

“So uhhh... not the best.”

“Where are you going with this?” Dad asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“I, I dunno, the guy just likes hanging out in this one blindspot in the cameras, and it’s kinda freaking me out,” Jeremy said, scratching at the back of his neck.

Dad frowned. “Strange. I wasn’t aware that there were any blindspots in the cameras.”

“There’s only a few, and only for pretty small spaces I think? But apparently he just likes hanging out in one of them.” Jeremy scuffed his shoe on the ground, glancing over as voices started echoing down the hall towards them. “Just thought it was weird.”

“I’ll look into it,” Dad muttered, voice quiet, and then raised it again slightly. “I refuse to keep up with sports.”

“C’mon,” Jeremy said, knowing this game well, changing subjects into something more normal as people entered earshot. “I’m not even asking you to keep up with sports, I’m just saying, I’d kill to go to a baseball game right about now.”

“The American Pasttime!” Soldier called from the room over.

“Exactly,” Jeremy agreed, nodding at Soldier as he also entered the kitchen, a half-asleep Demoman in tow.

“Any ghosties or ghoulies on the cameras last night, lad?” Demo had enough energy to ask, blinking blearily at the contents of the fridge.

“Oh, a billion,” Jeremy said.

“Guard!” Soldier barked, the most awake person in the room. “Should these ghost-ghouls appear again, don’t be afraid to point me in their direction! I have significant experience with them already and do not fear the likes of them!”

“Yeah sure,” Jeremy shrugged.

“You’re a champion, Guard,” Demo said with what was either a really disoriented blink or a wink, slugging him on the shoulder and wandering back out into the common room with the entire carton of milk in his other hand. Jeremy gave him a mock-salute that Soldier copied with absolute conviction. He and Dad shared a glance after the two of them left, and Jeremy was the first one to break, snickering under his breath.

“I’ll look into it,” Dad said, and also left the kitchen, and Jeremy nodded and started trying to remember what else he’d been planning on doing before bed.

“So,” Dad said a few days later, materializing next to Jeremy when he was in the middle of his jog and making him almost jump out of his skin, skidding to a stop.

“You’re enjoying that new watch way too much,” Jeremy panted, out of breath and still very much startled.

“Maybe,” Dad said, and he was smiling. “But as I was saying.”

“All you said was ‘so’,” Jeremy pointed out, giving him a look.

“There’s a juvenile joke here about how I’m your father and so of course I say ‘so’, but if you wouldn’t mind it, I did have something important to say, mon lapin,” Dad replied, and Jeremy rolled his eyes hard at the horrible joke and cheesy name, fighting back a smile of his own.

“Go for it,” he said, and took the opportunity to bend and tighten his shoelaces.

“So. Regarding that Scout and his habits. You mentioned he spends time in blind spots of the cameras, oui?” Dad asked.

“Yeah. Keeps, uh, I guess he keeps getting infractions for going off base too much, too. I’ve logged him leaving like three times this week already,” Jeremy nodded.

“Indeed. Well, considering how new we are to the team, I did not want to jump to conclusions, and so contacted Miss Pauling and asked on your behalf for any older records, and I found out something very... intriguing.”

Jeremy looked up at him, blinking. ‘Intriguing’, historically, had always been a very, very bad thing.

“Apparently, it has been two years since they last had a Guard situated on base. The previous one was a much older gentleman, retired from being a full member of the team due to health complications but not entirely ready to part with the company. The previous guard was somewhat strict, and the Scout—the same as we have now—very much disliked the man. He continued acquiring near-constant infractions under the man’s watch for leaving when he was not meant to, so much so that the previous Guard proposed enstating trackers on the team when they went off-base. And before this policy could take hold, the previous Guard left the base one day and did not return, and finally was found dead a state over, one month later.”

Jeremy blinked once, twice. “Holy shit,” he said, and took note of the wary look on his face. “Okay. So we’re thinkin’ the same thing, right?”

“I would assume so. And…” Dad hesitated, moved to fidget with his cufflinks. “And I would not be particularly concerned about this, as I’m confident that you wouldn’t have gotten his attention from what you’ve been up to lately, and therefore wouldn’t be in danger yet should history attempt to repeat itself, but… he’s already taken a disliking to you.”

“What?” he asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“I believe it’s something as simple as some sort of shallow jealousy. Another American on the team, also relatively young, filling the position of someone he disliked previously. He regularly complains about the fact that you don’t need to go do the same job as the rest of us.” Dad shrugged, glanced over at him. “That, combined with the fact that you have somewhat conflicting duties, well, he tends to rather tetchy. He claims that considering he’s meant to be the first line of defense, they shouldn’t also need a guard at night.”

Jeremy had a number of opinions about that, but he stuck to the most relevant ones. “I really don’t like this guy,” he said. “Might be, uh. Worth keeping an eye on.”

“Agreed.” Dad glanced back over his shoulder towards the base, then at his watch. “Enjoy the rest of your run. Don’t forget to eat.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, hit the bricks already, old man,” Jeremy scoffed, waving him off, and Dad rolled his eyes, disappearing again in a cloud of smoke. “You’re gonna be using that thing all the damn time now, aren’t you?”

“Oui,” came a voice from nowhere, and Jeremy huffed a laugh, meandering his way back into the rest of his jog.

Jeremy hummed along to the radio, flicking between cameras on autopilot and wondering when exactly to take his lunch break.

He didn’t face the clock or anything, so he wasn’t sure, but he thought he had a pretty solid rhythm at that point. Click, click, click, between the camera to the road, the camera to the main entrance, and the camera in the hall towards the middle of the building, for about one second each. At just about any time after 11 or 11:30, those were the only three in real time that he needed to keep an eye on, mostly for people coming back late from bar hopping or if Miss Pauling was rolling in on a delivery. All the other cameras he could see out of the corner of his eye, and any movement he’d pick up on pretty quick, even if it was usually just the doves fluttering on the camera to the Medbay. After he cycled through those (and there was almost never anything there) he’d cycle back through to the tape he had in, put it on high speed, and watch it for about two or three minutes, get through a chunk of that time. Mostly he’d just be making sure nobody had been in the base while the team was away ni o(which indeed there never was), so there wasn’t much of a reason to take it off high speed, and the second part of the night would be watching the tapes for the time the team was back on base.

Movement on a camera made him click the pause, and he glanced off to the side. One of the doves had shuffled to face the other direction. He rolled his eyes, looking back at the bigger monitor again and pressing play.

The second half of the night was a little more interesting. He just had to look at the tapes for the time the team was there, check for discrepancies that might point to Dad messing with the disguise technology off-the-clock or the enemy Spy having infiltrated. For the most part things were straightforward, but he at least got to see his teammates up to funny things sometimes. Pyro’s antics were usually entertaining. Soldier he only caught some of, on the basis of him often walking off out of range of the cameras when he went on his excursions. Demo was funny sometimes. Honestly, just seeing the Sniper anywhere but as a fuzzy distant shape was interesting.

Movement on a camera. Same dove. He ignored it. Click, click, click, all three cameras clear, back to the fast-forward of the same empty hallway as before.

He really needed to figure something out, for the Scout. Maybe he and Dad were just being paranoid. It would be insane for him to try to outright kill anyone who inconvenienced him, not to mention reckless, and stupid to boot. Acting like that in their line of work would make him a lot of enemies extremely quickly. It would make more sense for the old Guard disappearing to be unrelated, to be honest.

Yeah. Hell, he barely knew the guy, and here he was assuming he’d straight up whacked a guy for getting a little too on his case about something. Maybe they were wrong.

Movement on a camera. He glanced over and froze outright.

It took him five seconds to come to his senses enough to pause the playback on his screen.

Figures. Shapes. Not at the front entrance, in the hallway, there next to the back way, by the garage. At least three, moving carefully, hard to make out in the darkness.

Okay. Okay, don’t panic, focus.

Jeremy ran through a few things in his head. He’d already done a headcount, the only people he wasn’t sure about were the Sniper and the Medic, but he hadn’t seen the Medic in any of the hallways out of the infirmary. Three figures were two too many to be any of the team, and besides that, they didn’t look like the Medic. Too short to be the Sniper, moving differently. Different clothes.

Three people. He hopped up, rushed over to the wall, yanked open the panel he had there. Three buttons, which he needed to hit in order. The first would send an alert to Miss Pauling, the second to whoever was assigned to be on alert that night, the third would set off the alarm.

He hit the first, hit the second, and hesitated on the third.

Okay. Technically if he didn’t hit that third button, he’d be breaking protocol, which was, according to the manual, ‘grounds for termination’. He was pretty sure that meant a long swim with some concrete shoes. And it was apparently recorded every time he hit these buttons, so they could deduct from his pay on false alerts. So they’d know if he didn’t hit this third button. He needed to think fast.

This was a different button than the alert button. The alert was more subtle, set for just one person. The alarm was throughout the entire base, over every loudspeaker. Louder than a fire alarm. If he hit this one, these intruders would hear that there was an alarm going off. Anyone smart would book it, high tail it the hell out of there. But he still didn’t know where they came from.

There hadn’t been movement on any of the screens, and he looked at the camera feed facing the road already, a few times even. He should’ve seen them. And if they found their way in once, they could do it again.

If he didn’t hit the button, on the other hand, whoever was on alert would wake up and wonder why they’d gotten an alert but the alarm wasn’t going off. If they were clever, which they probably were if they’d lasted this long, they’d come to the security room to see what was up and they could work from there.

He closed the panel again and moved to wait.

A minute later, still no movement from the hallway where most of the rooms were. That was fine, they’d just woken up, and probably needed to get dressed and grab their guns.

Another minute later, no movement, which was fair, they just needed a second to get their bearings. The intruders, meanwhile, were just lurking, slowly making their way down the hall.

Another minute later, no movement, and he opened the panel to press the button again before he continued waiting. Maybe they didn’t hear him the first time.

Another minute later and he took to standing next to the panel, mashing the button rapidly, eyes on the screen where the intruders were passing the kitchen, starting to get pretty far into the building.

Another minute later and he stomped his way into his sneakers, grabbing his flashlight and gun and guard cap from where they were hung on the wall. “Fine, I’ll fucking do it myself,” he grumbled, and carefully shouldered open the door, taking one last glance at the camera before he shut the door behind himself.

He kept his footsteps quiet, squinting into the darkness, waiting for his eyes to finish adjusting as he crept towards where he’d last seen the figures. It was near-silent in the base at night except for the distant, quiet hum of generators and occasional shift of plumbing. It was getting more and more familiar, and he found himself able to tune it out somewhat, instead listening intently for footsteps besides his own, making sure to click the safety off his gun while he was still alone and not when he was close to whoever had decided to break in.

Okay. Dad did this all the time. He could handle this.

He slowed as he approached the corner near the kitchen, peering around as carefully as he could, tugging down the brim of his cap to try and hide any potential shine from his eyes. He caught sight of a vague shape standing near the doorway, hesitating before it crept inside, into the common area.

Not ideal, on the basis of that being their goddamn kitchen, but at least there would be cover.

By the time he managed to sneak up to the doorway, he could make out the sound of vague whispering. It was far enough that it gave him the boldness to peer into the room, and just slightly lit by the glow of the clock on the oven he could see two shapes there in the kitchen, the third lingering nearer to him, there by the table.

Jeremy was only just starting to make a plan, relieved to have the jump on them, when there was the distant sound of a generator humming to life, and all the figures stopped, paused for a moment.

“Fucking spooky here,” one whispered, barely audible.

“Calm down,” another whispered. “What, scared of ghosts?”

Jeremy inhaled, exhaled, shifted onto the balls of his feet and started creeping a little further into the room. If he could just get all three of them to one side, so he wouldn’t need to pivot so much…

“You don’t know, maybe there’s ghosts here,” the first protested, and swore quietly at what sounded like their winging their elbow against the corner of the tale, and Jeremy tried to stick near the wall, managed to creep half-behind one of the chairs, trying to keep his silhouette indistinct. “These guys kill people.”

“So do we,” the third mumbled, moving out of sight in the kitchen, and Jeremy bit down on a swear, starting to inch behind the couch. “Don’t be a coward. And stop making so much noise.”

“You can’t shoot a ghost,” the first pointed out, moving a bit closer to the kitchen, giving the table a wide berth now. “Or punch it.”

“I can try,” the second said, and stopped at the sound of a rustle.

Jeremy held his breath, weight half-balanced against where he’d tried to step, newspaper trapped beneath his foot.

“That one wasn’t me,” the first whispered. There was another, more significant rustle throughout the room, and Jeremy could see a glint as the intruders drew their weapons.

Jeremy inhaled, exhaled, and just barely managed not to swear out loud.

The first one was the closest by, lingering beside the arm of the couch Jeremy was crouched in the shadow of. “Do they have a cat here?” they asked, voice quiet.

The second was approaching into the main room more carefully. From the sound of the footsteps, trying to keep a shoulder closer to the wall, clearly paying more attention to the door. “Are you stupid or something?” was the reply, voice also quiet.

The third didn’t speak, but huffed out a laugh, which was enough to tell Jeremy that he was out of the kitchen.

Jeremy inhaled shakily, exhaled shakily, shifted his grip on his handgun and flashlight, and took a split second to think. Inhaled one more time.

He leapt to his feet, swinging his flashlight like a billy club and clobbering the first figure across the side of the head, sending them tumbling to the ground. From the sound of the impact, a dislocated jaw at the very least. One down.

A shout from the other side of the room, arms moving to try to aim, clearly struggling to see him, but that third figure was in the doorway, silhouetted against the faint light from the oven’s clock, and that was enough to figure out where the head and chest were. He aimed, fired, got what he was pretty sure was the neck considering the brief spray of blood that splattered against the oven, darkening the room completely.

A swear from the second figure, and Jeremy wanted to swear too, because he’d hoped that second figure would be stupid and try and charge him, but now he was ten steps away and didn’t have time to fiddle with and cock the gun again, other hand full with a flashlight and no way to—

Oh, duh.

“Stay where you are,” the second figure ordered, but Jeremy’s eyes were a little better adjusted and besides that, he wasn’t the one talking. He lifted his flashlight and clicked it on.

The second figure cried out, recoiling at the sudden blindingly bright light in what had been near-darkness, and Jeremy had time to finagle his thumb up to cock his gun again, now able to aim with absolute accuracy, this shot connecting with the figure’s head.

He exhaled.

It took Jeremy two minutes to remember to fire a bullet into the chest of the unconscious guy, and another minute for the other mercenaries to start showing up, half-dressed and armed. Dad, presumably to prove a point, showed up pretty close to the middle of the pack almost fully dressed. Jeremy wasn’t entirely sure how long it took before Miss Pauling showed up, but he wasn’t even halfway through their questions by that time.

“Guard, headcount?” she asked before she even bothered saying hello, still wearing her motorcycle helmet and looking more than a little bit miffed.

“Uh,” he said, eyes drawn away from where Medic was assessing the bodies on the kitchen table, “seven present and accounted for. Sniper’s probably out at his van, don’t know about the Scout.”

“Alright. Pyro,” she said, and Pyro stood at attention, bunny slippers squeaking at the movement. “go wake up Sniper and get him in here.”

Pyro nodded, handing their weird unicorn plushie thing to Jeremy as they passed by, giving him a solemn nod before hurrying away.

“Okay. Guard, hit me with a rundown, then,” she said, and shot a glance around the room. “No peanut gallery needed. And Medic, please don’t take them apart too much. I gotta get rid of those later.”

“Uh. Spotted these guys on the cameras, hit the first and second alerts,” Jeremy said.

“And not the third?” she asked pointedly.

“They were, like, right next to the door, and—here’s the thing, Miss P, is I dunno how the hell they got in here,” he said, and there was a general balk from the room. “No, seriously. They didn’t come in on the main road, they were in one of the back hallways by the garage. There’s gotta be a hole in the cameras or something, because I seriously don’t know where they came from. And if they booked it, they’d take whatever vehicle they used to get here, too, and we might not figure it out. Thought I’d just wait for whoever the hell was supposed to be on alert so we could… I dunno, at least see which way they went.”

“Guard,” she admonished, and he shrank a little bit. “That was incredibly reckless. What if nobody had shown up to help you?”

“Uh,” he said, blinked, “but… nobody did show up.”

A pause. She blinked. “What? You’re the one who did that?” she asked, entirely shocked, pointing towards the three bodies on the table.

“Uh, yeah? Isn’t that my job?” he asked carefully, shifting the stuffed animal under his arm.

“No, you’re—you’re just supposed to be the Guard, you’re supposed to watch cameras, not—“ She paused, taking a second to push up her glasses and rub at the bridge of her nose, inhaling, exhaling. “Okay. Points for… going above and beyond, here, but Guard, don’t do that again.”

“Sure thing, Miss P,” he mumbled, tugging on the brim of his guard cap, and sighed to himself as Miss Pauling moved away to try and stop Medic from attempting to covertly steal a few organs from the corpses. Dad clapped him on the shoulder supportively, and that did make him feel a little better. He wasn’t expecting a clap to the other shoulder, and looked up, surprised to see Heavy there, looking just slightly less grim than usual.

“Little Guard man is credit to team,” he said simply, solemnly.

Jeremy straightened up slightly. “Oh. Hey, thanks,” he said. Heavy nodded at him.

“It’s true,” Demo called, and he looked over, got another approving nod. “Really saved the lot of us, lad.”

“I, I mean, hey, it’s… what I’m here for. Or, uh. I thought that was it, anyways,” he shrugged, glancing away. “I mean, yeah, I’m pretty cool, though.”

Dad bumped his arm for the last part, and he snickered. “My question,” Dad continued, doing his best to ignore him, “is primarily regarding who, precisely, was supposed to be present to help Guard with this. Who is meant to be on alert?”

“It’s meant to be Scout, ain’t it?” the Engineer asked from nearby, frowning. A general murmur of agreement. “Could he have slept through it?”

“Heavy doubts this,” Heavy grumbled, looking troubled.

“Why’re we awake?” asked Sniper from the doorway, and various teammates called out a greeting. Sniper seemed half-gone, and completely grumpy, but not as grumpy as Pyro, and not nearly as gone as the man leaning heavily against Pyro’s shoulder.

“Hey,” the Scout managed, grinning, speech garbled, visibly sloppy and unbalanced. “What’s up, guys?”

Groans from parts of the room. “Drinkin’ again, Scout?” the Engineer drawled, visibly irritated.

“That’s my trademark, lad, go on,” Demo laughed, but the enthusiasm wasn’t entirely there.

“Scout,” Miss Pauling said, voice firm in a way that made Jeremy almost flinch in sympathy. “Are you aware that we’ve had a situation here while you’ve been sleeping?”

“Weren’t sleeping,” Sniper murmured, and eyes turned to him. He scratched at the back of his neck. “Came stumbling in ‘round when I was heading in. He was out for the night. Bar, looks like.”  “What?” Jeremy demanded. “Why the fuck didn’t I see him leave on the cameras?”

“Alright,” Miss Pauling said, and Jeremy looked at her. Her expression was hard to read. “It’s possible he went through the back tunnel.”

“Back tunnel?” Jeremy asked, and glanced around. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t heard of it.

“For emergencies only. Scout’s the only one who I’ve given a key card to. I have one too. It’s supposed to be used for transporting especially sensitive information, most of the team isn’t supposed to even know it exists. If there’s a gap in the cameras around the back of the building, he might have been using it to… sneak out to go to town, even though he knows he’s already in hot water for leaving the base so much,” Miss Pauling said, glaring at Scout, who was looking increasingly annoyed.

“Whatever, it’s not a big deal,” he protested, scoffing.

“That tunnel is for emergencies only,” Miss Pauling stressed. “I trusted you with the privilege of knowing about it account of having worked here for so long, and you’re using that privilege and key card to mess around?”

“He was coming back from around the front of the building, at least,” Sniper chimed in, and Pyro nodded. “Not that I’d understand the point of sneaking out if he’s going to just walk back in the front door.”

“Key card?” Medic repeated from near the table, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, it’s, it’s a magnetized card, that can be read by a card reader, used like a key,” Miss Pauling explained, deflating a little bit.

His eyebrows furrowed further. “Would it happen to look anything like this?” he asked, picking up a lanyard from the table and holding it up, showing the room the card clipped onto the end of it.

Two beats of silence. “Spy, would you mind?” Miss Pauling asked politely, nodding towards the Scout, who had gone pale.

“Not at all,” Dad said just as politely, and walked over towards the Scout and Pyro, then circled around behind them, and sank a blade into the Scout’s spine. He promptly crumbled to the floor, dead.

“Well. At least that’s that mystery solved,” Miss Pauling sighed, and rubbed at the bridge of her nose again. “Now I’ve gotta block off time tomorrow to get rid of three bodies, and then hopefully that’s the last we’re gonna hear of this or else the Administrator is gonna kill me.”

“What about the Scout?” Heavy rumbled.

“…Scratch that. Four bodies,” she mumbled, face dropping into her hands. “And then I need to find his replacement. Ugh.”

“Can’t imagine you’d need to go far,” Demo said, and Jeremy looked up, and Demo was very obviously tilting a thumb in his direction.

“He’s proven himself to be better at this job,” Dad agreed, shrugging. “And I would say on a bad day he’s still a better runner than the previous Scout on a good one.”

“He can clearly handle a firearm well,” the Engineer noted, looking over one of the bodies.

“And a blunt object,” Medic chimed, just a bit too pleased. “This jaw is almost completely shattered!”

“Okay, okay, fine, sure,” Miss Pauling waved off, one hand still pressed to her face, clearly overwhelmed and tired. “We’ll get his paperwork in tomorrow. Congratulations, you’re the new Scout, any questions? Can the questions wait until morning? Great, thank you. Good night, everyone. Medic, have the bodies in bags for me at least, okay?”

A distracted thumbs up from Medic, and Miss Pauling was groaning, wandering back out of the room, and most of the team followed, yawning amongst themselves. Sniper half-attempted to ask again why the hell any of them were awake, but gave up halfway through. Pyro, for one, made sure to at least retrieve the plushie from Scout’s arms before wandering off, giving him an appreciative pat on the shoulder.

“So,” Dad said, and when he looked over, he was smiling. “A promotion, mon lapin. Congratulations, new Scout.”

“Do I gotta wear that stupid outfit he always wears?” Jeremy asked, entirely serious. His reply was a laugh and a pat on the shoulder before he disappeared in a puff of smoke. “Pops, I’m serious. Do I? Dad!?”

“—So that’s why I figured, y’know, might as well tell you guys,” Jeremy finished rambling, hands in his pockets, continuing down the hallway. “Because… I dunno. I could tell Miss P, but it’s nice having secret stuff, y’know?”

“You think this is how they actually got in?” Demo asked, looking dubious. “Little blind spot in the cameras?”

“Only a couple feet wide, you said?” Sniper grumbled.

“Sounds possible,” Heavy said hesitantly.

“I dunno. Maybe. But if I tell Miss P about it, they’re gonna fix it,” Jeremy shrugged, turning the corner and stopping. “There. I knew it.”

They stopped with him, following his line of sight. “You’re takin’ the piss, mate,” Sniper deadpanned. “You want to tell me he’d been climbing out a window like a teenager?”

Jeremy shrugged, moving to open the window in question. It swung open easily, just large enough to push through with only a little bit of a problem, barely needing to turn his shoulders. “He’s not much bigger than me, and what the hell else would he be doing here?” he pointed out.

“Heavy cannot fit through that window,” Heavy deadpanned.

“Yeah. Sorry, big guy,” Jeremy apologized, leaning back inside and closing it again. “But hey, mystery solved, right?”

“Well, if I ever need windows to climb out of, now I know just the lad for the job,” Demo said, nudging him. “Thanks, Guard. Or, er, Scout. Och, now that’s going to take getting used to, aye? Might just stick to calling you ‘laddie’, laddie.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he laughed, nudging him right back. And as much as they ribbed him for it, he did see a kind of appreciation there. Just like he’d figured, they seemed to take note of him taking their side and not just Miss Pauling’s.

Now he just needed to switch back over to the day shift.

#father-son bonding au #dad!spy #tf2 #team fortress 2 #shut up me #my fanfiction #everybody talks #really happy with this one even if it took Way Too Fucking Long

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years ago

Text

Sweeter than Strawberries | Jungkook

→ summary: at euphoria bakery, seasonal changes also bring seasonal menu items. when you find out that your favorite strawberry shortcake milkshake was phased out after the end of summer, it takes only one puppy eyed look from you for jeon jungkook to make it for you anyway—just don’t tell his boss about it, alright?

→ genre: bakery!au, s2l, fluff → warnings: none unless you count the fact that i’m writing shy!jungkook again :^D, we love mutual pining in this house ex dee → words: 4.5K → a/n: this was commissioned by @ihatemathanal!! i was super stoked to write this bc it’s really cute and sometimes it’s nice to just write happy fluffy things every once in a while (aka zee is turning into a fluff writer jfc) it got a lil longer than it was supposed to, but that’s bc i got carried away lol anyway i hope you guys enjoy!! (ps: this also works for the bgw bingo so... tyg for s2l fics!! let’s get it!!)

For the most part, the beginning of autumn is usually your favorite time of the year. When the tree leaves begin to yellow and the air gains a significantly colder bite, this signifies the end of pit stains and sweaty thighs and the start of sweater paws and chapped lips. Above all, you are most excited, of course, for an excuse to gorge yourself on steaming mugs of hot chocolate, paired with delicious mountains of warm gooey brownies.

For the most part, these are all things that often get you excited for the coming chill. What you do not think to remember, however, is that while these seasonal changes bring more good than bad, there still remains a little snag: a small oversight, if you will. As businesses all over the world begin the annual transition to the colder months, so does your favorite bakery across the street from your university. After all, summer ingredients grow scarcer as the year nears its end, so it’s understandable for bakeries to switch up their menu to keep up with both the supply and demand.

What does any of this have to do with anything? Well, long story short—

Your favorite strawberry shortcake milkshake is about to get phased out. No, scratch that—it’s already been phased out, right from under your very nose, no less!

You shouldn’t have been surprised, really. You have always known it was a specialty drink; your best friend had even been the one to introduce it to you just near the end of your summer classes:

“This is Euphoria Bakery,” Namjoon had said with a smile, waving cheerily at the two boys manning the till. You heard him chuckle in amusement when your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, staring longingly at the sweet treats and baked goods lining the display case.

Namjoon had stolen your attention away, however, when he pointed to the chalkboard menu on the wall. As it turned out, the bakery also doubled as a cafe, serving the usual coffees and teas while also making the occasional specialty drink for different seasons or holidays. The chalkboard was decorated beautifully, the menu items written out in neat cursive with tiny little doodles littering its margins. On one of the boards, there was a new drink item being advertised in bold pink letters—a great summer treat!—or so it said.

“Jungkook-ssi, can you get me and Y/N a strawberry shortcake milkshake? Extra whipped cream for me, please!” Namjoon called out to one of the boys, startling the younger of the two. The boy, Jungkook, must have been busy fiddling with the cash register that he hadn’t noticed your arrival.

“N-Namjoon-hyung? Sorry, I was just busy counting the money—” Jungkook stopped short in his speech, his tongue getting caught in his mouth when his eyes landed directly on you. He had made a strangled sound, like he had swallowed his spit too quickly and was struggling to regain his composure. “H-Hello?”

You realized belatedly that he must have been greeting you, as you had been distracted by his fidgetiness. His nervousness was cute, if a little bit contagious; you couldn’t help feeling anxious too, like your heart was missing every other beat, even though you had no reason to be. “Hello! My name is Y/N. It’s my first time coming here, but Namjoon says your new summer menu item is really good? I wanted to try it out for myself.”

Jungkook nodded, still staring wide-eyed at you as if in a trance. You expected him to start... well. You weren’t an expert on how bakeries or cafes are run, but you were pretty sure he should’ve started doing something after you had spoken, perhaps ring up your order on the register, or start working on your drinks. Instead, he’s still frozen in place, like he’d somehow short-circuited within the last two minutes.

It seemed you weren’t the only one who noticed his odd behavior because the man working with him suddenly pushed Jungkook to the side, a brief smirk flashing across his face before it was quickly replaced by a more subdued, professional smile.

“Sorry about him. He’s usually my best baker, but sometimes he can get a little... distracted when he’s confronted with sweet things,” the man said nonchalantly, but it seemed that his innocent-sounding comment had embarrassed Jungkook greatly.

“Jimin-hyung!” Jungkook whined, stomping his foot not unlike a bunny. If you squinted a little bit, you could definitely see the resemblance.

Namjoon, who had been quietly watching everything unfold, chose that moment to pipe up. “Oh, I see. I didn’t know you had a type, but after thinking about it—” Namjoon shot a surreptitious glance at you, before turning back to Jungkook with a teasing grin, “—I can definitely see why.”

At the time, you had no idea what was going on, mostly confused as to why Jungkook had suddenly become so red-faced while Namjoon and Jimin giggled like a couple of high school girls. It seemed like you were somehow the main reason for his embarrassment, so you were quick to poke Namjoon in the stomach, effectively silencing him.

“Hey! Stop teasing the poor boy. He’s just being nice,” you said, pointing a soft smile back at Jungkook. “Sorry about him. I’m sure you’re an excellent baker, judging from how wonderful and cute all these cakes on the display look.” Somehow, your praise had only made Jungkook’s cheeks brighten even further. He cleared his throat as if to say something in response, before changing his mind and scuttling away to the back room instead.

“I’m going to start making your milkshake! D-don’t mind me!” He called out from behind the door, causing Jimin to finally break down into raucous giggles, nearly doubling over from his own mirth.

“Aish, that kid. He never learns, huh…” Jimin sighed, but the smile on his face is kind—the sort of fond look an older brother might have for his kid brother. He turned back to you and Namjoon with that lingering softness as he rang the two of you up, before chatting idly with you as you waited for Jungkook to finish making your drinks.

“I’ve never seen you around, Y/N-ssi. Jungkook—sorry, I meant I definitely would’ve noticed you if I did. You go to the same university as Namjoon-ssi, right?” Jimin asked, flipping a pen between his fingers with incredible dexterity. You were slightly distracted by that, faintly jealous of how his short fingers could somehow manage such a feat.

“I—yeah, I do. I’m assuming you’re also a student?”

“Yep. I actually met Namjoon-ssi when we took that one music theory class together. I was handing out flyers for this bakery after class and he happened to be one of the first people to actually come,” he said, winking at Namjoon. You watched with much interest when your friend turned a faint shade of pink, his hand coming up behind his neck—a signature tick of his whenever he was feeling shy or nervous.

“I-It was nothing… I mean, your seasonal drinks are always so good! I remember your old snowman-shaped donuts with the raspberry filling? I still dream of it sometimes,” Namjoon sighed, eyes going glassy for a moment.

Jimin laughed, his eyes crinkling into cute little crescents. “Oh, stop it! I remember how you’d come here even after we stopped serving that donut and you’d beg us to make them again.”

“And yet you never did, even though I know you have the ingredients to make them,” Namjoon pouted, but there’s endearment dancing in his expression.

You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. “I never pegged Namjoon as a sweet-tooth guy, so this is honestly all a very big surprise to me. I should be pumped for this milkshake then, huh? Hopefully, you aren’t just hyping it up and I’ll end up disappointed.”

Before either Namjoon or Jimin could retort, Jungkook had reappeared from the back room with two large cups in hand, almost tripping over his untied apron string but managing to get to the counter in one piece.

“Here you go. I hope you won’t be disappointed when you try it,” he said, gaze averted downwards when he hands you your cup. Your fingers grazed each other for a second, nearly causing both of you to drop the drink like it was on fire.

“S-sorry,” you laughed it off, feeling your ears get a little red from your blunder. You pointedly ignored Namjoon’s arched brow, no doubt enjoying your sudden shyness. Without waiting for him to get his own cup, you casually tear off the straw wrapper and take your first sip of the drink.

“So?” Jungkook asked after a while, watching with bated breath as you take a good gulp of the milkshake. “How is it? Is it worth the hype?” You don’t speak for a moment, further aggravating the two bakers as you carefully chewed on the bits of strawberry in the drink.

“This—” you said, speaking slowly for increased dramatic effect. You could hear Namjoon groan beside you, used to your need for unnecessary anticipation. Even as you paused for a moment longer, you could already feel the smile creeping up your face, unable to completely hide your giddiness. “—is fantastic. Show-stopping. Best thing since sliced bread! I could live on this shit alone.”

Jungkook released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, chuckling in relief as you began to completely devour the treat in mere minutes. “I’m… really glad you like it,” he said with a wide, toothy grin. You were so immersed in your drink that you missed the way he sighed softly, hand gently cradling his chest where his heart would be.

Namjoon had taken his own sip as well, sighing dreamily as the creamy and sweet flavor overtook his palate. “Truly the best drink in existence. If I was a Twitch streamer or some shit, I’d promote this regularly for free.”

His comment made Jimin giggle softly, but his gaze is trained on something else entirely. “I’m flattered, but maybe don’t promote Y/N’s cup, over here. We don’t typically have strawberries and hearts doodled all over our cups,” he said, smirking slyly.

Lo and behold, your cup did have small doodles littering its sides whereas Namjoon’s was just a plain white paper cup. “Oh,” you said, blushing furiously when you finally noticed. Your flush was nothing compared to the one on Jungkook’s cheeks, however. The two of you refused to make eye contact after that, both of you trying (and failing) to silence the amused snickers of your respective friends.

Despite that slightly embarrassing (and heartwarming) experience, that had marked the start of your love for the tiny bakery and their special strawberry shortcake milkshake. You returned to Euphoria Bakery as often as you could throughout the summer, even going to visit it without Namjoon most of the time. You would even occasionally go out of your way to visit the bakery, even after your summer classes had ended and there was really no reason for you to be around the area.

It also didn’t hurt that the boy behind the counter was especially cute, with his big doe eyes and melodic laughter that always got your heart beating erratically in your chest. It hadn’t taken long for you to admit to yourself that you had a not-so-tiny crush and every visit to the bakery only made you fall deeper for him.

Namjoon has assured you that Jungkook clearly has a crush on you too, but you’re quick to shut him down. It is one thing to be shy and awkward around a girl and another to have a crush on the aforementioned girl. As you visited the bakery more and more, you do notice that Jungkook is more reserved when it comes to other female clientele, although, dare you hope? He does seem a little bit more… nervous, when he talks to you, but that could be your lovesick eyes playing tricks on you.

Never mind the fact that he only ever seems to leave cute doodles on your cups alone, but that could just be a coincidence, right? After all, he can hardly hold a conversation with you when you try to speak with him, always eager to rush to the backroom to make your drink.

Your visits usually consist of making idle chit chat with Jimin after greeting both him and Jungkook. The younger boy often dips the moment he sees you through the glass door, automatically going to prepare your favorite summer treat without even having to ask for your order. He never stays to stick around long enough to make conversation, as he eventually excuses himself to do some chore or another. During one of your trips, you tentatively asked Jimin if Jungkook was avoiding you, to which the blonde boy just laughed heartily at your query.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N. He’ll come around eventually; he’s just nervous. Don’t tell him I told you this, but…” he trails off, peeking over his shoulder to make sure Jungkook wouldn’t accidentally overhear him. When he turns back to you, the smirk on his face is equal parts amused and mischievous. He looks a little impish, though you aren’t sure if he’d take that too kindly. “Jungkook always stares out the door, waiting for you to arrive. I’ve caught him red-handed far too many times for it to be a coincidence.”

Your cheeks flush warmly at his words but don’t say anything after that. You suppose all you can do is wait for him to start warming up to you eventually, and you hope the day comes sooner as the summer days grow shorter and shorter.

Of course, that day does come eventually, but probably not on the day you wished it would happen.

Like all good things, summer comes to its close and so does the summer menu options offered at Euphoria Bakery. Jimin had already told you a week beforehand that your favorite strawberry shortcake milkshake would get phased out as soon as July hit, but you refused to listen. You had hoped that as his regular customer and friend, perhaps Jimin would make an exception and prolong the milkshake’s lifetime for your sake, but it seems that Jimin has made it clear that friendship and business are two separate entities that he will not allow to coincide.

“Please Jimin? Just one more time? I’ll even settle for a small size,” you beg, your entire body draped over the cashier counter like the pathetic plebeian that you are. Thankfully, since you have made it a habit to pass by the bakery when it’s close to closing time, there aren’t any other patrons left to judge your pitiful display. Unthankfully, that also means Jimin is free to flick you on the forehead with no holds barred, leaving a large red welt where his finger hits.

“I already told you that I won’t budge, not even if you licked my Balenciagas. Besides, we’re out of strawberries anyway.” Jimin huffs, rolling his eyes at your pained whines as you grasp your head in agony. “Oh stop it, will you? I didn’t even hit you that hard.”

“I beg to differ, hyung.” Jungkook pipes up, startling both you and Jimin. Jungkook is usually content to wiping down the glass displays or tables while he passively listens to the two of you bicker, humming occasionally to indicate that he’s still listening, so it comes as a small surprise whenever he does decide to speak up. He must have noticed this too, as his ears quickly begin to redden as he scrambles to finish his sentence. “I-I mean, hyung might have small hands, but his finger flicks are no joke. You could break someone’s skull with that thing.”

“Who are you calling small, huh?” Jimin growls, but the playful smirk on his face tells you that he’s just teasing. He pulls Jungkook in a headlock, who surprisingly doesn’t seem all that bothered by the fact that Jimin is actively trying to block his windpipe with his strong forearms. “Take it back!”

“Never,” Jungkook wheezes, effortlessly removing himself from Jimin’s grip. He dusts himself off, not even breathless. “Also, why’d you lie to Y/N like that? We still have strawberries in the back. How else would we make our strawberry jam tarts?”

Jimin squawks indignantly, folding his arms. “How dare you sell out our company secrets! I could fire you for that!”

Jungkook scoffs, bumping Jimin with his hip. Jungkook must also not know his own strength, because he accidentally causes Jimin to stumble a few steps back, nearly toppling over one of their bread racks. “You’re joking. If you fired me, no one would be able to make the bagels in the morning because you never know how to proof them correctly.”

“Slander!” Jimin hisses, pinching Jungkook’s side in retaliation. You and Jungkook laugh at his childish pouts, but the older boy can’t hide his own mirth for too long. “Fine. You can stay. But you,” he points at you this time, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “You better not seduce my boy over here to make your strawberry shortcake milkshake. I have eyes and ears everywhere.” He drags his finger to the corner of the walls, where there is—

“There’s nothing there?” You follow where he’s pointing, but all you can see is a stray cobweb that Jungkook must have missed while dusting this morning. “Am I supposed to be looking at something?”

“Jimin is thinking of installing surveillance cameras soon. He’s convinced that someone is trying to steal his banana cream pie recipe.” Jungkook shrugs. He slings an arm around Jimin’s shoulder, glaringly delighted when their height difference becomes even more apparent while he stands close to him. “Anyway, I promise I won’t get ‘seduced’ by her, or whatever you want to call it. Why don’t you head home early for tonight? I’ll close up and I’ll try to convince Y/N to try our other pastries as a replacement.”

You open your mouth to try and protest, but Jungkook sends you a cheeky wink, making sure that his boss doesn’t catch him in the act. Bemused but interested to see what he’s up to, you decide to keep quiet and wait for him to continue.

“Don’t try and think you’re being slick here, buddy,” Jimin says, closing in on Jungkook’s personal space by pressing his chest against his. “If I see that you break the bakery code and serve her that drink… There will be consequences.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, sighing dramatically as he gently pries the smaller man away from him. “Yeah, yeah. I got you. No funny business, I promise. Now get out of here, hyung. Leave the rest to me.”

Jimin gives him one last firm look before squinting warily at you, lips pursed tightly. “No seducing,” he repeats, wagging his finger at you. He unties the apron around his neck, throwing it haphazardly at the coat hanger on the back door where his jacket was hanging. He folds it over his arm and points at the corner of the ceiling with his free hand once more before exiting through the front entrance, the soft bells hanging above the doorway tinkling in his wake.

When he’s gone, you release a breath that you hadn’t realized you had been holding. “Well, that was easier than expected. I didn’t think you’d be able to get him to leave. He must trust you a lot, huh?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Nah. He’s just lazy. He hates closing the bakery and will jump at any opportunity to go home early.”

You nod. “Seems like him.” There’s a beat of silence. “So… How much seducing am I gonna have to do to get my milkshake, huh?”

Like you guessed, Jungkook immediately turns red at your words, spluttering and stammering over his spit for a few seconds before managing to come up with a reply. “O-oh, there’s no need for that. I was gonna make the drink for you anyway.”

“But what about the quote-unquote consequences?” you ask, still worried that you might be getting Jungkook in trouble. You’d rather have your arm cut off than have him get punished, no matter how small it might be.

“No need to worry about that. Jimin might pretend to be a prickly old man sometimes, but he’s mostly just full of hot air,” Jungkook snorts, shaking his head in amusement. “He’ll just make me treat him to some skewers or something. He’s just teasing.”

“If… If you say so? I just really don’t want him to get angry with you…” you say, voice turning small as you tried to reign your embarrassment in. “I know I made a fool of myself just moments ago and begged like a baby for the milkshake, but I was just exaggerating…”

“Something tells me that you aren’t, but let’s pretend for your sake that you are,” Jungkook says. You huff indignantly at his teasing, but you’re more overjoyed by the sight of his cute bunny smile. You had only seen it in passing a few times in the past, but seeing it directed at you is an entirely different experience. Because of you, your mind helpfully supplies.

He heads over to the backroom to begin preparing your drink, but he keeps the door open this time so you can see him even from behind the counter. You can mostly only see the large industrial ovens and bread racks filled to the brim with all sorts of pastries proofing for the night, but you do catch a glimpse of the sole blender near the back. Jungkook grabs the glass jar first and then walks over to the fridge just out of your sight, most likely to grab the ingredients needed for your milkshake.

The bakery is mostly silent, save for the sound of Jungkook moving and assembling everything. You rack your brain for some sort of conversation starter, as the atmosphere between the two of you has begun to return to its usual awkward state as you skirt around each other, unsure of where either of you stands. You might have known him for a while now, but today is the most you’ve ever spoken to him and the tension is palpable.

“So.” You clear your throat, heart beating a mile a minute in your chest. “I… guess this is going to be the last time I have this drink, huh?”

The sound of Jungkook chopping on the cutting board pauses for a second. You can only see his left shoulder from where you’re standing, but you can see it tense even then. “I… I mean, will you stop coming over to the bakery if it is the last time?”

There are so many things you want to say all at once, but the words somehow get caught in your throat. You want to say that you love coming to the bakery to see them (though it’s mostly Jungkook if you’re being honest) and that the strawberry shortcake milkshake had just been an excuse to visit for a while now. You want to keep visiting for as long as they’ll have you—but you don’t know how to say it without hot humiliation running down your spine. You don’t want to weird him out by confessing to him all of a sudden. And so, you clam up, not knowing how to respond.

When Jungkook throws in all the ingredients in the blender, he doesn’t turn it on immediately. He tilts his head to the side, not fully looking at you but giving you a view of his beautiful side profile. You see his Adam’s apple bob for a moment, his tongue poking out to wet his lips before he speaks. “Because… If that’s how it’s going to be, then maybe… buying a couple of skewers for Jimin won’t be so bad.”

You freeze. “What? Are you saying that...”

“I’ll keep making the drink for you, even if it’s not on the menu anymore?” Jungkook finishes, turning fully to face you. There’s a shy grin on his face, coupled with the ever-present pink flush high on his cheekbones. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. We’ll have to be sneaky about it, though. You’ll have to come to the bakery only when I’m closing so that he doesn’t catch us but otherwise…” He scratches the tip of his nose, looking embarrassed. “If… If you’re fine doing that, I mean.”

It feels like an eternity before you can remember how to function like a regular human being again. Your insides feel like molten lava and you’re certain that your internal organs have begun to self-destruct right after that super-effective hit from Jeon Jungkook, super baker boy extraordinaire. It’s mind-blowing how effortlessly cute he can be, making you realize belatedly that his quiet demeanor over the past few weeks had been a blessing and not a curse. If he had been this sweet with you from the get-go, you’d surely be melted butter on a sidewalk by now.

“I would love you—I mean, I would love it if you did that for me, actually.” You stammer, resisting the urge to punch yourself in the tit. You’re thankful for the lack of mirrors at the bakery, for you are positive that you must look like the devil’s blazing red testicles at this point.

“Great,” Jungkook smiles softly. He turns the blender off, pouring your drink into a paper cup. “Oh, before I forget…” He grabs a marker from the small tin can near the cash register, and you watch as he quickly scribbles a few hearts around the circumference of the cup. “There we go. Now it’s done.”

As Jungkook hands your drink to you, you’re hit with a moment of déjà vu when your fingers brush just like the first time you had met. You sense the same familiar shock of electricity when you touch, but instead of pulling away like before, Jungkook surprises you for the third time that day.

When he’s sure that you have a secure grip on your cup, he grabs your free hand with his, unfurling your fingers until he can get a hold of your pinky. He curls his pinky into yours, linking them together with a bashful smile on his lips. “There. Now we pinky promised to each other.”

“Y-yes. Of course,” you mumble, giggling lightly when he still refuses to let go. “I pinky promise.”

Five minutes away from Euphoria Bakery, Jimin sits quietly in his parked car, his figure hunched over the small screen of his phone as he chuckles loudly to himself. There is a tiny video of two people, a boy and a girl, with their hands held together. Despite the quality being grainy and warped, Jimin needs no confirmation as to who those people are; he’s always known, after all.

“All according to keikaku.” He whistles happily, already salivating at the thought of all the skewers Jungkook will have to buy for him.

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the-tiger-with-a-computer · 3 years ago

Text

Twisted Wonderland NoSleep Au

Heartslabyul Part 3

Recap: After getting the chestnuts needed to make the apology tart the group now meets up with Trey in the kitchen.

Grim: We got the chestnuts. Now we can make a delicious tart.

Trey: We still have to peel them you know. It will be a challenge, but I know we can do it.

After peeling all the chestnuts Trey tricked basically everyone but Yuu and Cater into thinking that oyster sauce was needed for the tart. Then Trey released that he made to much marrow paste. So it was up to Yuu, Grim, and Deuce to go to the school store to buy the ingredients to make more whipped cream. The following happens:

Deuce: Wow, this place is amazing. Do you think this place actually sells the items we need?

Yuu: I believe so. I mean, back home it was pretty common for all types of stores to carry items like protection charms, bleach, scrubbers, and especially religious items.

Deuce: I can kinda understand the charms and religious items part. But why carry bleach and scrubbers?

Yuu: In case someone gets killed.

Deuce was about to ask Yuu to elaborate when Sam, the owner of the school store, came in to welcome Deuce and Yuu.

Sam: Hey, my lost little demons, how goes it? Welcome to Mr.S ‘s Mystery Shop. What can I do for you today? A charm for uncharted lands? Mummy of an ancient king? Or how about some cursed tarot cards?

Deuce: We’d like the things written here.

Grim: And some cans of tuna.

Yuu: We have enough tuna back at the dorm, we don’t need anymore anytime soon. Anyway, got any protection charms?

Deuce: No. No tuna or protection charms. Let’s just get the things we came here to get.

Sam: What what? Whipped cream, eggs… Oh! A nice sweet line-up. Ok! Coming right up.

Deuce: Wow, he really does have them.

Yuu: Well, the school store does need to have everything a student would need. And then some.

Sam: Sorry ‘bout the wait. It’s a bit heavy, you got it? If you order now you can get a 1/100 size floating platter to carry your purchases for 30% off.

Grim: What’s that? Sounds cool!

Deuce: We’re good. Thank you. It’s time to go.

Grim: But I wanna hang around more.

Yuu: If we hurry, Trey might let us eat something sweet.

Grim: Then what are we waiting for! Let’s get a move on!

Sam: Make sure to come by again!

*However as Yuu left with Deuce and Grim Sam couldn’t help but wonder about the new student. After what he has heard about their homeworld from Crowley sparked curiosity in both him and his friends. If what he thinks is true. Then Yuu might have come from a much darker world then his friends.*

On the way back to the kitchen Deuce offered to carry Yuu’s bag for them. When Yuu said that it was all right Deuce insisted saying that he was used to carrying heavy things as he would help his mom carry groceries. And since he was the only boy, he would be stuck doing anything requiring strength.

Deuce: Ah, I’ve just been talking about myself.

Yuu: Well I think that helping your family is a wonderful thing. Where I’m from, family is very important and to betray their trust would be to go against everything that both monsters and humans believe in. Helping your family, and anyone you see as family, is considered a very honorable thing to do. To do them harm is considered one of the worst things a human can do.

Deuce: Wow. You must miss them very much then. But, the thing is…. I always made my mom…

Before Deuce could finish his sentence he bumped into someone, breaking some eggs in the process.

Grim: Ahh! The eggs!

Deuce: $h*t, half of the eggs are destroyed! There’s egg all over the bag!

Delinquent A: Hey you! Watch where you’re… wait… You’re the fools who wreaked the egg in my carbonara earlier.

Delinquent B: It’s you guys again. You can’t catch a break!

Deuce: You were the ones who jumped out from behind the corner. At lunch, it wasn’t like you couldn’t eat the egg anymore but you still came to pick a fight… Just now, you destroyed half our eggs.

Grim: Yeah, that’s right.

Delinquent A: And? You sayin’ it’s our fault?

*Yuu, knowing that this will not end well, and with no way to defuse the situation stepped away from them. But at the same time they were ready to step in and help Deuce if it came to that.*

Deuce: Yes. Please pay for the eggs. And please apologize to the chickens too.

Delinquent B: Hmmm? You’re getting all worked up over eggs.

Delinquent A: They didn’t hit the ground right? Don’t sweat the small stuff.

Delinquent B: We saved you the trouble of breaking them.

Yuu could stand by no longer and decided to step in. After all, they had enough of these two boys nonsense.

Yuu: Well, you did damage what we payed for. I expect to at least be paid back in the amount the broken eggs cost. Think you can do that?

Delinquent A: Don’t think you can boss us around, just because we broke a few eggs!

Yuu: This is more than just about a few eggs. As I recall you two have been causing quite a bit of trouble as of late. Would be a shame if the principal knew of your antics.

*This was very much true as Yuu had used the ghost camera to take pictures of both the good and the bad. Let’s just say that Yuu had quite a bit of dirt on these two in particular*

Delinquent B: Is that a threat I hear?

Yuu: A warning actually.

Delinquent A: Looks like we need to teach these two a lesson.

Deuce: HEY! You don’t get to make decisions for us! These eggs… instead of becoming a chick they were gonna make us a delicious tart!! And you sure as he!! wouldn’t EVER hurt my friends! You get it! Huh!?

Delinquent B: What’s this guy’s problem all the sudden!?

Deuce: If you don’t wanna pay for the six eggs you broke… I’ll just punch you six times instead.

Delinquent A: Whaaaaa!?

Yuu: Time to fight!

Deuce: Grit your teeth a$$ho!e$!!

Let’s just say that the two never stood a chance. With Deuce’s experience in fights and Yuu’s self-defense training, they wiped the floor with the two delinquents.

Delinquent A: T-these two are straight-up mad! That wasn’t just six hits! Lair!

Yuu: OH! So you want some more huh!?

Delinquent B: Let’s get the he!! out of here! I’m sorry to all chickens!

Deuce: Apologize 100 times next you eat eggs! Dumb@$$e$!!

Grim: Wow!

Deuce: Huff, huff… Ugh!!

Grim: What just happened?

Deuce: …I screwed up… I vowed that I would definitely be a honor student this time…! In middle school, all I ever did was screw around… I constantly skipped school and spent my day getting into fights. I disrespected my teachers, hung around sketchy upperclassman, and bleached my hair to death. Even ran around all over the place riding a magical wheel. I was a terrible person that went as far as to use magic to lord over those that couldn’t.

Grim: Just now you went full on bad boy on those guys!

Deuce: Then one night... I saw my mom hiding away in tears as she called my grandma. "Was the I raised him wrong? Would it have been better if he had both parents?" She was wrong. Mom never did anything wrong. It was all me! So when the carriage from Night Raven College came to get me... My mom was so happy and I don't want to make her cry again. This time. I'm going to be an honor student my mom can be proud of. Then I do this... $hit!

Grim: But, y'know... Does being an honor student mean you have to grin and bare everything?

Deuce: Huh?

Grim: Those delinquents deserved another 10 punches if you ask me! You and Yuu fought them off before I could, though.

Yuu: I think that your mom would be proud that you are trying to be a better student. In my eyes, you are doing a lot better than back then.

Deuce: You guys...

Yuu: Even honor students get mad too.

Deuce: Really? ...Heh heh. May those baby chicks rest in peace.

Yuu: There is something that I need to tell you.

Deuce: What do you mean?

Yuu: The eggs that we bought will never turn into chicks as they were never fertilized.

Deuce: WHAT?!? You've gotta be kidding!?

Back at the kitchen, they gave the ingredients to Trey who then proceeded to finish making the tart. Which turned out to be amazing and looked really good.

Ace: Did something happen while you were out shopping?

Yuu: Chick shock...

Deuce: For 16 years... I believed that...

Ace: Making sweets takes so much time. I'm exhausted...

Cater: Good work! Is the tart finished? The decorations look super cute! It's totally magicam-gramble! Let me take a pic.

Ace: Ah! What'd you come here for?

Cater: I came by to check on my cute underclassmen, working so hard. Ahaha, you look beat!

Trey: Things you aren't used to tire you out quick. So when you're tired you need to eat something sweet. Go ahead and try the mont blanc we made.

Everyone: Yay!

Yuu: Are you sure?

Trey: It's fine.

Ace: Cater, you did come here just in time to eat the tart!

Yuu: Almost like you planned it.

Cater: Just a coincidence I promise.

Grim: Waaahaaa... It smells so deliciously sweet. The chestnuts on top are glossy while the cream underneath is so fluffy! Let's eat!

Yuu: Please don't eat it all. We still need a tart for the Unbirthday Party.

Grim: I know

Ace: Ah! Holy crap!

Cater: So good!

Deuce: Amazing... It's like what you get in stores.

Grim: It's not overly sweet but still has a richness to it! It's like a garden of chestnuts in my mouth!

Yuu: It's amazing! I definitely think that Riddle will love this.

Trey: Thank you.

Cater: Oh yeah. Hey Trey, do the thing.

Trey: The thing? ...Oh, that. So what are your favorite foods?

Ace: Mine's cherry pie and hamburgers.

Grim: My number one is canned tuna. And cheese omurice, and grilled meat, and pudding!

Deuce: If I have to pick, omurice, I guess.

Yuu: Mine would have to be breaded shrimp.

Cater: And mine is grilled lamb with diablo sauce.

Trey: Alright here we go, ... Doodle Suit!

There was a sound, a flash, and then nothing.

Deuce: ...? This is?

Trey: Now take another bite of the mont blanc.

Ace: Hm? Hmmmmm? This is... mont blanc but it tastes like cherry pie!

Grim: It tastes like canned tuna! *Chomp chomp* Ohh, now it's cheese omurice! And grilled chicken, *munch munch*, and pudding!

Yuu: Wow! It really does taste like breaded shrimp!

Cater: Isn't it fun? If you did this while having tea with a girl, they'd be super impressed!

Deuce: It's amazing. Is changing the flavor of food your unique magic, Trey?

Trey: Actually, it's magic that "overwrites a component". So not just taste, but I can also overwrite the color or scent or really anything. The overwrite only lasts a short time so that's why it's like a doodle or scribble. That's why I've named this magic "doodle" since it's not permanent.

Grim: With your "Doodle Suit" my dream of all you can eat canned tuna isn't just a dream. It's so much better than the magic Riddle uses to bully people.

Trey: No... My magic is nothing more than child's play when compared to Riddle's He's on a different level. ...It's getting late. Let's go home and give Riddle the tart tomorrow. Tomorrow is the Unbirthday Party. Don't be late.

Yuu: Hang on. Do you have a book of the rules?

Trey: Yeah, why?

Yuu: I want to make sure that there is nothing against a mont blanc at an Unbirthday Party.

Cater: Good thinking Yuu.

Ace: So, did you find anything Yuu?

Yuu: Here we are. Rule Number 562: Refrain from bringing marron tarts for the Unbirthday Party."

Trey: Wow, I almost missed that one. Good thing Yuu double-checked the rules.

Yuu: It's kinda a talent of mine. Knowing the rules and when a rule applies to a situation or not. It's weird, I know.

Cater: Far from it. If you hadn't checked then Riddle would have most likely been furious.

Ace: Yuu, I owe you one.

Yuu: Then I think that we should keep the tart in the kitchen, explain ourselves to Riddle and hope that he takes the collar off of Ace.

Ace: One more thing. Yuu, can you let me sleep over again? My cruel upperclassmen aren't going to let me in the dorm!

Cater: Wow. So prickly!

Deuce: Ace, don't force Yuu to spoil you too much.

Grim: Yeah! You gotta pay to stay! 10 cans of tuna!

Ace: What! Are you telling me to sleep outside?

Yuu: No, no. Ace, you can stay but now you owe me two favors.

Ace: Fine by me! Thank Yuu!

Trey: Deuce, why don't you stay in their dorm to keep an eye on Ace? As the vice dorm leader, I give you permission.

Cater: Trey, aren't you spoiling the newbies. I'm jelly. Yuu, can I go too?

Yuu: I don't think so. The dorm needs some intense TLC and I'm pretty sure that you're needed in the dorm.

Cater: Tch. Bringin' me down.

Trey: Yuu, I'm sorry about forcing those two on you. We're counting on you tomorrow.

Yuu: It's fine and I will be sure that they are on their best behavior tomorrow.

Ace: Tomorrow is the Unbirthday Party. This damn collar is definitely coming off! Just you watch, Riddle.

As Yuu, Ace, Grim, and Deuce made their way to the dorm Yuu coudn't help but feel as if something was very wrong in the dorm. And that Riddle was in great danger, but from what?

That is where I will end this chapter and the next will continue to the morning of the Unbirthday Party. Until then, hope everyone is doing ok.

#twisted wonderland #twst NoSleep Yuu #twst NoSleep Au #twst grim #twst trey #twst deuce #twst sam #twst cater

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aurumacadicus · 4 years ago

Note

Tony/Steve/Bucky: 5 HC: Collecting AU (so like Beanie Babies, Pokémon, rare glass figurines, etc.)

Natasha is so tired lmao

“You all need... hobbies,” Natasha says. Steve, Bucky, and Tony stare at her. Finally, Steve very defensively exclaims, “I paint!” “When was the last time you finished something?” Natasha asks, and Steve, in a very telling move, says nothing. She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Just... think about it? Picking up a hobby?” “I tinker????” Tony offers hopefully. Luckily, Bucky and Steve both give Tony pained looks, and Bucky says, “Babe, that’s... that’s just your job.” Tony looks so wounded that Natasha is glad he said it and not her. “It doesn’t have to be something you do, it can just--be something you collect? But honestly, you guys, I’m worried. You... you don’t even go on dates anymore. It’s just battles, paperwork, and sometimes you get takeout. You need to do something for yourselves.” “I bet you don’t have a hobby,” Steve begins. Natasha simply raises an eyebrow at him and says, “You really don’t follow my Instagram at all, do you?” “Natasha’s started making lace by hand!” Tony tells Steve excitedly, enthused. “She just started work on a lace shawl!” “For real?” Steve asks, surprised, as Bucky gives her an impressed up-and-down. Natasha glares at Steve and Bucky, offended. “Is Tony really the only one that checks my Instagram at all? I’ve fucking tagged you.” “Oops,” Steve says without any real remorse.

Bucky, to everyone’s surprise, starts collecting vinyl records. Tony had honestly expected him to pick up a hobby like... base-jumping or making his own knives. “I’ve always liked music,” Bucky says, examining the copy of a Frank Sinatra record that he’d just bought. It had worked in the store, but that had been a newer record-player; the one Tony had given him was an antique, each part carefully scrubbed of rust and put back in place. He had several records already, but he hadn’t played them, not yet. He mostly just liked looking at them, and remembering a simpler time, even if he didn’t always recognize the names on the record. Now, though, he sets the record on to play, and a familiar voice filters through the speaker. “May I have this dance?” Steve asks from where he’s sketching on the couch, humor in his voice, and then sits back, surprised, when the answer is an emphatic ‘yes.’ “Uh, maybe Tony should be--” “You can stand on my feet,” Bucky says. His voice doesn’t have a hint of teasing in it. “Like you did before the serum.” “I’m quite a bit heavier,” Steve begins nervously. Tony finally looks up from his tablet to roll his eyes, quietly urging, “Steve, come on. Bucky is, too.” So Steve stands, and he puts his toes on top of Bucky’s, and he takes Bucky’s hands, and for a moment it really feels like they’re back in the forties. Sometimes, when Steve and Tony are on missions or business trips, they’ll try and find a record store, because Bucky is always happy to get a new one, but they leave the majority of it to him, because he’s very meticulous in his curation.

Steve collects napkin sketches. He doesn’t really mean for it to be a thing. He’d just been in line to get coffee and little boy had been throwing a tantrum because he was overtired and honestly, the boy’s mom looked like she was seconds away from following suit. So Steve had knelt down next to him and made a quick sketch on a napkin to distract him. And the boy had been so enthused that he insisted on making his own napkin sketch, an oval with a face and lines protruding from it. Steve still has no idea if it’s a sun or a child’s crude drawing of a person, but he cherishes it. And he sort of just... keeps going from there. He doodles on a lot of napkins, and if he notices someone peeking at them often enough, he’ll say, “Let’s trade!” The ones he loves the most are from the people who always seem to back up, startled, waving their hands as they exclaim, “Oh, no! I can’t draw!” But he always gets evidence to the contrary--a stick-figure on a field of grass, or a cartoonish dog, or even just a bunch of circles that a girl had proudly just said ‘grapes!’ about. Tony purchases a laminating machine for Steve so that he can keep all of them safe, and so that he can display them easier. Bucky helps him frame them and put them up on the wall. Sometimes he switches the napkins out depending on the season. Mostly he thumbs through the ones in picture albums that don’t fit on his walls. “We should trade sketches,” Steve says one morning, pushing a napkin with a cuddling Bucky and Tony sketched on it across the table. Tony blinks at it blearily, still struggling through his first cup of coffee as he responds, “Hmm?” “You’re a sap,” Bucky replies, amused, grabbing a clean napkin and snatching up Steve’s pen to scribble in a cup of coffee that looked remarkably similar to the one Tony was clutching. “Tony, do you want to add anything?” Tony squints at him, disbelieving, and takes a loud slurp of his coffee. Still, Bucky won’t let up on forcing the pen at him, so he half-heartedly squiggles some heart-shaped over the cup of coffee. “It’s perfect. I love it,” Steve decides, and then shouts when Tony flops onto the table and nearly lands in his cereal.

It takes an embarrassingly long time for Steve and Bucky to realize that Tony still hasn’t found a hobby. Or at least, not one that they’ve seen, and whenever they ask about it, Tony gets shifty in that way where he doesn’t want to disappoint them, which makes them think that yeah, he’s definitely hiding the fact that he’s still overworking instead of having fun. They try to get him into things, like menu cards from restaurants they try out, or matchbooks when they travel, or even just stamps. But Tony just brushes them off, looking increasingly anxious every time they try, so they give up. Instead they make sure to schedule more date time, drawing him up out of his workshop to eat, or watch movies, or just cuddle. Bucky draws Tony up to dance with him to his records, and Steve leaves him sketches because he knows Tony likes to pin them up on his corkboard so he can look at them when he takes breaks during work. “There must be something we can get him into,” Steve finally mutters one day, flopping onto the couch in the common room. “What are you talking about?” Clint asks, not looking away from his video game, even as Bucky prods at him to make him mess up. He bats Bucky away idly. “Don’t have it be about sex.” “We’re trying to figure out a hobby for Tony,” Steve sighs. Clint finally pauses his game to turn the full effect of his confused frown on him. “What are you talking about? He has a hobby.” “Tinkering is not a hobby. It’s just his job,” Bucky cuts in. Clint scowls at him. “He doesn’t tinker. Or, well, yeah, he does. But that’s not his hobby. His hobby is collecting Captain America paraphernalia.” “...It’s what,” Steve asks, voice strangled. “I can’t believe you’ve never found his Captain America room,” Clint scoffs, turning back to his game. Clearly dismissed, Steve and Bucky bolt to try and find said room.

Tony turns as Steve and Bucky come bursting into his workshop, opening his mouth to greet them. “Why didn’t you tell us that you have a Captain America room?!” Bucky asks him accusingly. The greeting he’d been about to offer turns into a scream instead. “How did you get an actual copy of my art from the forties?!” Steve sputters. “And is that his actual dress uniform?!” Bucky adds. “I don’t have to tell you anything!” Tony shouts, booking it toward the back entrance to the lab. Anyway it turns out that even after Tony ‘hated’ Captain America because of Howard, he still scooped up anything of Steve’s or Bucky’s that he could, because it felt gross to him that their personal items were being sold to the highest bidder. He’d eventually planned on having it donated to a war museum or something, or even holding onto it until his death for it to be disbursed, but he couldn’t stand the thought of having pieces of them coveted for their monetary value over the fact that they’d once belonged to real, actual people with feelings. “There’s a couple collectors out there who are respectful enough. They won’t sell, but that’s because they care so much about the item. Sometimes when things come on the market that they know they’ll never be able to afford, they tell me about it, so I can keep it out of greedy people’s hands,” Tony admits. “And then you guys were alive again, and I couldn’t just tell you that I owned a ton of your old shit.” “Tony,” Bucky and Steve murmur. “That’s so sweet.” “You still don’t get to touch all my Captain America comics though. They’re first edition and I will rip your hands off if you take them out of their protective sleeves,” Tony adds, with the same gravity as he’d once told them ‘if you ever hurt my robots I would kill you and then myself,’ and Pepper and Rhodey had nodded solemnly behind him. “I have other copies that you can read. Just not those.” “Okay,” Steve and Bucky wheeze, because they know Tony is willing to rip off their hands.

#aurumacadicus answers #5 headcanons meme #stuckony #Anonymous

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moving-wright-along · 4 years ago

Text

bury me in your mind

this started as a sort of high school AU but it just turned into a whole nother beast. its a little over 4k words. i apologize in advance. Ticci Toby x a gender neutral reader warnings: mentions of violence and a fuckload of cursing. kinda angsy? but only towards the end

Toby hates high school and he hates every stupid fucker in the whole damn building.

The only exception to his burning hatred is you.

His English class is the only class that keeps Toby sane throughout the day, because it’s the class he gets to sit next to you. People naturally steer away from him once they notice the occasional twitches and jerks of his body, like their tiny brains have an alarm that goes off whenever they see anything that might not be ‘normal’. Toby decided a long time ago that it was probably for the best, and started to avoid everyone else as much as they avoided him. Yet on the first day, you sat beside him without being forced, and with plenty of other seats available.

At first he thinks you’re weird, but you don’t try to talk to him and you don’t flinch or lean away from him when he twitches, so you’re cool in his book.

Toby starts admiring you after about a week into the semester. He’s sitting in his seat, minding his own fucking business because he’s apparently one of the only people in this whole town that can, when some dumbass jock comes up and starts throwing out insults disguised as ‘friendly’ questions about his conditions. Toby immediately has to shove down the urge to sucker punch the idiot in the nose, but he promised his mom to try not to get into fights this year. And hell, he’s a mama's boy at heart still so he’s trying to indulge her. But goddamn is it hard.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” It takes a moment for Toby to register that you were the one that just spoke up.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than insult people over things they can’t control and be fucking annoying? Get a hobby.”

And- Wow, Toby really hopes he’s not as slack jawed as the other guy is, cause he looks like an idiot with his mouth open like that. The guy tries stuttering something out but it's drowned out by several people laughing and a few of the guy's so-called friends jeering him because 'damn dude, the quiet kid just owned your ass’. The teacher steps in and everyone quiets down, their attention thankfully taken off your corner of the room.

Toby has the decency to stutter out a quiet 'thanks’ that you just shrug off. You instantly became way more than just 'cool’ in Toby’s book.

He wants to say so much more than thanks, like how you’re the first person to stand up for him besides his sister in a long time, and how pretty he thinks you are, but he keeps his stupid mouth shut and his head down. The two of you don’t talk again until a few days later.

There’s a substitute teacher that day, but they’re clearly not very good at their job considering the class is way louder than usual. Toby grits his teeth and just tries to focus on his worksheet, resisting the urge to clap his hands over his ears. Every noise- every high pitched laugh, every pencil thrown across the room, every scrapping of chair legs on the floor- seems to send him further towards a total breakdown, every one of his senses completely overloaded. He jumps when he feels a soft poke on his arm. You hold out your other earbud to him.

“Wanna listen?” You ask. He stares blankly for a moment, and he guesses that he waits too long to reply because after a moment you roll your eyes and hold out your hand a little further.

“Come on man, I don’t bite unless I have to.” You smile a little, and it takes him a second to realize you’re joking. He’s quick to react after that.

His heart pounds hard as he takes the earbud from you and jams it into his ear, trying not to think about your fingers brushing together for a split second. He spends the rest of class silently noting the titles and lyrics of songs on your playlist as they pass. He ends up listening to those same songs when he gets home, his mind replaying the encounter over and over.

The two of you could almost be considered friends after that. You share your earbuds with him frequently, you lower your voice and whisper comments or jokes to him occasionally and he always has to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from snickering too loud. At first you only talk about assignments and whatever book your class is reading but soon you’re talking about all kinds of things.

Toby notices a lot of little things about you around this time. You sit a little closer to him than before since your earbuds don’t reach that far, and you spend more time zoning out and doodling in class than you do paying attention. You say you hate english but he’s starting to think you just say that to have something to complain about, because you’re not nearly as bad at it as you claim to be.

Unbeknownst to Toby, you notice things about him too. He shies away when you get a little to close and his breath hitches when you poke at him or whisper to get his attention. Everyone seems weary or even scared of him but you quickly find out that he’s… kind of a dork. He likes to read and loves sci-fi and adventure stories and he blushes when you discover that he likes the occasional romance as well. He talks a lot when you get him going about a topic he enjoys and then gets bashful when he realizes just how long he was talking. He lives close to the woods and he loves being outside and has a strange amount of knowledge about the local flora and fauna. He apologizes too much and keeps his mouth shut tight when other people are around and his voice is naturally kind of soft even though he has a tendency to be louder than he thinks he is.

You like him. He’s sweet.

Toby still struggles with people in other classes and in the halls every-fucking-where else, but at the very least he has English with you.

The year passes quickly. Toby gets you a Christmas gift after the holiday break is over- a pair of new earbuds because you had texted him complaining about your current ones giving out and you feel bad because you didn’t think to get him anything. You buy some random candy since you don’t know what he likes and give it to him the next day and even though you feel like an asshole for not giving him a real gift he smiles at you like it’s the best thing he’s ever received and you silently vow to get him something better for his birthday..

You buy him a box of Valentine's chocolates but chicken out before giving them to him so you just lie and say that you got them from your mom and you share the kind of gross candies in the back of class and try not to let the shame show on your face. He gives you a pink frog plushie with a messed up eye and claims he got it because he thought it would make you laugh and it does. You really wish you’d just given him the stupid box.

You’re getting ready for bed a few days later when you get a text from him. You raise an eyebrow as you cross the room to your phone and look it over.

‘Need to get out of the house for a while. I was gonna wander around in the woods like a dumb teenager, wanna come?’

You roll your eyes. You imagine that if you looked out the window right now you’d spot Toby outside your house already. Your friend knew you had a hard time saying no to him and abused his power to no end.

'its a school night dummy.’

'and almost midnight’

‘Yeah… Anyway, how’s that science project that’s due tomorrow coming along for you?’

Shit. You totally forgot about that.

'asshole’

‘Haha. You could always skip and finish it tomorrow.’

'ugh’ ‘you let me forget on purpose’

‘You have no proof of that.’ ‘I’ll buy you an energy drink and snacks?’

'open with that next time. omw’

At least you were right about him already waiting for you. Toby grins at you a little and you punch him in the arm lightly once you’ve successfully climbed out of your window. True to his word, Toby buys you a Monster and teases you about your flavor choices.

“The original monster is fucking gross-” You say, scrunching your nose up at the very thought of it.

“It’s- It’s not that bad! You’re j-just a baby.” Toby argues back as he wanders down the aisles, grabbing whatever snacks and candies catch his or your attention.

“You’re not even supposed to drink Monster, loser.”

Toby shrugs, ducking his head and hiding his smile behind his hood. You wish he’d smile a bit more openly.

Toby pays the gas station attendant for your haul and the two of you start walking in the same direction as his house, wandering past it and into the nearby woods. You’re a little freaked out walking around the dark woods at night, but Toby seems totally at home. Although, he practically grew up in these woods, so you suppose it’s only fair.

“Why the fuck is it so cold? It’s spring.” You complain. You thought it’d be warmer and you’re practically freezing in your long sleeve shirt.

“It’s barely March.” Toby retorts.

“Whatever.”

“Wanna wear my jacket?” Toby offers, although he pales when you look up at him and he turns his gaze away. The dark hides his expression, but it’s pretty easy to tell that he’s embarrassed.

“Sure.” You answer, trying to sound casual. Before you know it you’re wrapped up in his jacket. It’s already a bit too big on him cause he’s way skinnier than he should be so it hangs off your frame and covers your hands. It’s nice, though you try not to think too hard about how much you enjoy wearing it, or how it smells like that awful body spray he uses that you can’t seem to complain about.

“You sure you’re not cold, though?” You ask.

“Eh. C-CIPA stuff makes feeling temperature we-weird anyway.” He shrugs. You forget sometimes that he doesn’t feel pain. The following silence is awkward and you’re still trying not to focus too much on the fact that giving someone your jacket is an inherently romantic gesture, so you decide to bully him a bit to take your mind off it.

“Where’d you even get this thing anyway? Who in the right mind sells a brown jacket with striped sleeves and a blue hood?” You ask and he snorts. You’ve made it clear before through teasing just how silly you find his jacket’s design to be. Toby rolls his eyes.

“W-Wasn’t always a blue hood. I fell out of a tree once and ripped the original h-hood on the w-way down. Lyra just took the hood off-off one of her old jackets and s-sewed it on.”

You roll your eyes and chuckle. He’s the only person you know that would have a story like that.

The two of you wander around together and talk, and as you walk you wonder what his reaction would be if you just reached out and held his hand. Too bad you’re too much of a coward to try.

As if on cue, Toby pauses in his tracks and reaches out to grab your sleeve. He tugs you gently in a different direction.

“Come on. T-This way.”

“Where’re we going?” You ask.

Toby glances over his shoulder at you, and you notice a hint of a smile across his face.

“There’s this o-old tower th-thing close by. I like hanging out there sometimes.”

Toby leads you into a clearing, and you find yourself in front of a tall red tower.

“What is this thing?”

“D-Dunno. I guess it use-used to be a climbing wall or something.”

You stare at some of the graffiti on the outer walls as Toby walks around to the other side.

“Come on!” He calls. You follow him around to the back of the tower and find that one side is open, allowing access to the inside. Caution tape and trash litters the ground inside and Toby is halfway up a ladder to the top.

“We’re climbing up…? This looks rickety as hell, man.”

“It’s fine,” Toby assures, pausing at the top to turn and look down at you. “I’ve climbed this thing pl-plenty of times.”

“I dunno…”

“Come on. D-don’t be a baby, it’s fine.” He teases and makes himself comfortable on the top of the wall.

“That’s exactly what the guy says to the girl before something really bad happens in a horror movie.” You argue, though you can’t fight back a smile as you climb up anyway.

“We’re not in a ho-horror movie though.” Toby says, taking your hand and helping you sit beside him. You sit close to him and your sides press together. You feel a surge of pride when you remember that he used to shy away from you a lot when you first met, but now you can casually touch like this with no issue.

You open and share snacks together, and you let Toby take a sip of your drink to see if he likes the flavor or not. You watch him raise it to his mouth and your brain screams something at you about an indirect kiss and you quickly shove that thought aside and stomp on it.

Sure, Toby is cute and he’s a good friend, but you don’t like him like that. Definitely not. Would you kiss the crap out of his stupid adorable face if you knew it wouldn’t scare him off? Of course. But that doesn’t mean you have some kind of lame crush on him.

“Ca-Can I… tell you something?” He starts, seeming a bit bashful all of the sudden. Your heart kicks into overdrive. Oh fuck, okay, maybe you we’re lying about not having a little bit of a crush.

“Of course.” You say, trying not to let your voice waver. He hesitates.

“U-Uh. N-Nevermind, actually! Heh.”

You raise a brow.

“Oh come on, what was it?” You ask.

“Ju-just!” Toby looks a bit panicked as he fumbles. “Um. Just thinking about th-that book I’m reading. I think I already told you about it though. D-Did I tell you about the main character and his friend’s fight?”

Even if you didn’t know Toby that well, you’d still know he was lying. He’s a pretty bad liar. Your heart sinks a bit but you don’t push the subject.

“Oh, yeah you did.” You say, a little disappointed. Toby rambles for a few minutes about his book and conversation continues easily enough.

“Oh!” Toby jumps, and suddenly turns to you with a big smile. “M-My sister is coming over this weekend!”

“Lyra, right?”

“Y-Yeah. She’s coming to visit f-from college.” He says, and he looks really happy. “Y-you should come over and meet her. She’d l-love you.”

That sentiment makes you feel warm inside. Toby speaks very highly of his sister, so you really hope she likes you.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” You say and Toby beams at you.

“You seem excited.” You smile and nudge him with your elbow.

“Y-yeah. She goes to school kind of far away, so it’s been a while sin-since I’ve seen her.” Toby looks away, his tone becoming a bit more serious. “F-for a long time I felt like Lyra w-was the only per-person who really cared about me… W-well. Until I met you.”

Your heart melts a little and you can’t resist letting your head thunk onto his shoulder. Toby stiffens, but makes no move to stop you.

“She sounds great, I can’t wait to meet her.”

Toby hums, and you sit together for a while longer until you realize it’s almost 3 am. You carefully climb back down the ladder, Toby following and you watch as he jumps down the last foot of ladder and lands on his feet with a soft thunk. You’re about to walk off before he catches your attention again.

“Oh! I-I almost forgot,” He says, then starts examining the walls, as if looking for something. “H-Here it is.”

You approach to see what he’s talking about, and you find a low section of wall with Toby’s name messily carved into it.

“Wanna carve something too?” He asks. You hum an affirmative and Toby withdraws a small pocket knife from his jean pocket and hands it to you.

“I’m not gonna question why you have a knife.” You say, chuckling tiredly as you knelt and began carefully carving.

“F-For protection, obviously.” Toby says, his tone teasing. “One of u-us has to keep us safe. Since we’re in a horror movie now.”

You roll your eyes and finish up your carving, moving aside so Toby could see it. You carved your own name underneath his, adding a plus sign between them. You watch him flush slightly, trying not to blush yourself.

“Now everyone will know we were here together.” You say, justifying yourself as you passed his knife back.

He walks you home and you reluctantly give his jacket back once you’re in your driveway. You’re about to climb back through your window when Toby speaks up.

“U-um…” He starts. You look back to see him rocking on his feet. He steps forward, and hesitates for a second before pulling you into a quick hug.

“T-thanks for hanging out with me. A-And-and for being my friend. Bye!”

Toby lets go and runs off before you can say anything back. You find yourself grinning from ear to ear as you slip into bed, quickly unlocking your phone and opening his contact.

'you’re welcome, loser <3’

You skip school the next day like Toby suggested, convincing your mom of a killer headache when she comes in to see why you’re not up. You imagine the eyebags from your lack of sleep help your case pretty well since she doesn’t make a fuss about it. You finish up some neglected work and waste the day away. It’s Friday, and you know Lyra is supposed to come into town today. You figure Toby will message you later about plans to meet up.

So you find it strange when you don’t hear from Toby at all that weekend. You feel a little down about it, but maybe Lyra just didn’t feel like hanging out, and he was probably busy with family stuff, so you don’t question it.

When he doesn’t show up to class on Monday, you figure he’s just spending more time with his family. Then, when two more days go by without seeing him or getting a text back, you worry that he got into a fight and got suspended or something. You’re properly freaking out by the time the week is up.

You’d only been to Toby’s house once before and that was only when all of his family was out of the house for the night. Other than that he was always kind of weird about you coming over. If you hung out outside of school it either had to be at your place or somewhere else. And now here you were, marching over to get an answer.

You notice a car in the driveway and hesitate. You didn’t want to risk interacting with his dad. Toby never told you any specifics, but he seriously hated that guy. You look up at Toby’s window and notice a shadow move across the curtains. He’s in there.

You don’t want to recreate a shitty teen movie and throw rocks at his window, and if texting him worked then you would’ve gotten an answer days ago. Using the railing of the porch, you haul yourself as quietly onto the roof outside his window as possible. Fuck, you really hope it’s him in there and not one of his parents or something. Gently, you knock on the glass. There’s no response for a minute, and you’re about to knock again when the curtains yank back and scare the shit out of you. You’re met with Toby’s shocked face on the other side, as if you both were equally startled by one another.

“Uhh… Hi?” You say weakly. Toby struggles to yank the window up and drags you inside. You stumble into his bedroom and his hands grip your biceps hard.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He hisses.

“I was worried about you!” You snap, keeping your voice as low as his. “You’ve been out all week and you never- replied…”

Your anger completely melts away when you finally get a good look at the state he’s in. His arms and hands are bandaged up and his face is marred with little scratches and a nasty bruise beneath his eye. He raises an eyebrow like he has no idea why you’re looking at him like that. His breath hitches when you absentmindedly reach out and place a hand on his cheek, just below the bruise and rub a bit with your thumb.

“What happened to you?” You ask, softly. Toby suddenly jumps back, like your touch burnt him. His arms wrap tight around his chest and he avoids your gaze and you try not to be hurt by that.

“C-Car accident.”

“You were in a fucking car accident?!” You whisper-scream.

“I’m fine.” He insists. He doesn’t look fine to you at all. “S-Sorry I did-didn’t tell you. Ph-Phone’s been turned off for a few days…”

He glances at his nightstand and you follow his gaze to his phone, connected to the charger but the front is completely shattered. He probably just didn’t want to look at it.

Toby stays silent for a moment before speaking up again.

“Are you mad at me?”

“What? No- God no, Tobes, I was just worried. It’s okay, really. I’m sorry I freaked out and climbed onto your roof and knocked on your window.”

Toby finally grins a little at your remark, but it drops off his face quickly.

“…You should go. I don’t want my parents to know you’re here.” Toby herds you towards the window, and you go without any struggle. All you wanted was to see that he was okay, and you supposed you got your answer.

“Alright, alright, but you better text me later, okay?”

Toby smiles a little again, but it looks forced.

“Y-Yeah. I’ll try.”

You head back home, and you don’t get any texts. You spend the next few days in silent frustration while you’re still ignored by your friend. Maybe something else happened that he’s not telling you about? Sure, a car accident is traumatizing, but he seemed more or less okay? There has to be some other reason he’s avoiding you.

All it takes is a quick scroll through your local news site to find the obituary. Lyra Rogers. Your hands freeze on your laptop’s mouse in silent horror. Holy shit, his sister died in that crash. You’re suddenly overcome with sadness. Toby talked about Lyra a lot- about his cool older sister in college a few towns away who always looked out for him. You never got to meet her. Fuck, no wonder he’s been so distant.

Every ounce of frustration leaves your body and you slump over. You just accept that you’re probably not going to see your friend anytime soon. You consider giving him your condolences, but you don’t want to risk bringing it up and hurting him more. Besides, Toby’s never been one to want people’s sympathy or pity. You suppose he’ll reach out when he’s ready.

The next few days are sporadic. You get an apology text from Toby and he updates you about his condition, though he’s vague and only mentions that he’s going to see a doctor. You don’t get much else. English class is boring without him. Toby goes completely silent again.

You figure he just needs time to himself to heal, but you’re constantly worried about him in the back of your mind. One morning you’re passing through the living room while getting ready for school and you pause in front of the TV, your mother having left it on the news. Your heart stops mid beat in your chest.

Brutally murdered… fire… missing…

You feel bile rise in your throat and you slap a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from being sick, backing away from the TV. Tears flow down your cheeks. There’s no way this is real, right? Toby wouldn’t do that. Your Toby wouldn’t do that.

You quickly retreat to your room, ignoring your mother's shout from downstairs. You whip out your phone, foregoing your text messages and going straight to calling him. You need to hear from him, you need him to tell you that it was all a lie and that he was innocent.

Your first call goes unanswered, but the second goes through after two rings. You gasp a little and listen hard for a moment. You think you can hear breathing, the distant crunching of leaves.

“Toby?” You ask. The call ends immediately. The rest of your calls are unanswered. You resort to texts after a few minutes, hoping that he was at least reading them.

You skip school the next few days- you don’t want to hear what anyone else has to say on the situation, no one knew Toby like you knew him, and you can’t guarantee that you won’t lunge at someone for bad mouthing him. Although, you never thought Toby would kill someone either, so maybe you didn’t know him that well after all.

Your life feels like it's falling apart. You’re like a carnival ride violently swinging back and forth between the five stages of grief, jumping around like it’s fucking hopscotch.

You push yourself out of bed that weekend in a strange rush of determination. You were just making yourself more miserable by sitting around and wallowing in bed all day, you’re driving yourself crazy like that. Pushing past the want to just lay down again, you get dressed and decide to go on a walk. Maybe fresh air will make you feel better.

Without even trying, you somehow end up close to Toby’s house. For a second, you consider going up to the door and knocking, maybe talk to his mom a bit. You’ve never met her before, but Toby seemed fond of her. Maybe she’d let you, you don’t know, take one of his jackets to remember him by? Or was that way too weird?

You realize with a sinking feeling that Connie Rogers lost her daughter, son, and husband within the short span of a few weeks. She most certainly has more important things to deal with than some kid showing up on her door and asking to rifle through her son’s stuff. Maybe you could talk to her sometime, but not now. You push past and walk into the woods behind their house, wandering around until you somehow end up at the tower you visited with him only a few days ago.

You collapse into a heap and slump against the wall. The floodgates swing open and all your emotions come rushing out, and you let them.

You scream and cry without having to worry about anyone hearing you. You sob uncontrollably for a few minutes, then you curse Toby’s name and yell at him for tricking you into being his friend- then your brain makes you imagine what his face would look like if you had said that to his face and then you’re just sad again. You shrink in on yourself, crying and saying that you didn’t mean it. You don’t know why you bother saying anything to him out loud anyway, it’s not like he can hear you.

You wish he was dead, that they’d found a body after he escaped. At least then you’d know where he was. Then you could go to his grave and punch his headstone, or you could just sit there and talk as if everything was normal. But there’s no body, so there’s no grave. Knowing that he was likely alive out there somewhere is somehow more painful.

“You stupid jerk.” You say between disgusting, hiccupping sobs. You wipe at your face with your sleeve, trying to calm yourself.

If only you knew he was hiding up in a tree, a measly few feet away at the edge of the clearing, clutching at his chest as if it would keep his heart from clawing its way out.

#ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #toby rogers #toby rogers x reader #toby aaron rogers #lmk if theres spelling errors or smth im illiterate #this went way out of control lol this is so much longer than intended #my writing

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shatterflowerdemon · 3 years ago

Text

I found

Words: 1,517

Reader & UT Sans & UT Paps & Error & Ink & Gaster

Notes:

This came to me as I was cleaning. Please note that I am not very familiar with Error and Ink. I just see pretty designs and write. I haven't abandoned my other reader inserts, but the big wheel in my brain has been landing on 'oneshot' for days. I also post on mobile so I can't chop this.

"Oh fuck. Am I dead? I knew I shouldn't have had that pasta!" Everything that surrounds you is white. "Holy shit? Did I make it to heaven? Unexpected."

"Ahem."

You scream and jerk, managing to scuttle back where you rest on the...floor? It's hard to tell in all this one shade of white. Then you look up. "Oh my fucking god, I am in heaven!" you yell before slapping yourself on the mouth. A skeleton that looks a lot like Ink- from that one AU on Tumblr- looks at you like you've grown a second head.

"Right, okay, back you go," he says, bringing his paintbrush down as if to strike you.

"What the fuck?" you roll out of the way. "Uh, watch where you point that thing!" He sighs and twirls it in this direction.

"Don't make this difficult."

You decide that you would prefer to, not liking the idea of the easy route. Hitting your elbow on the floor hurt. Isn't heaven supposed to be fun and painless? You can feel your heart thumping from adrenaline, too. Regardless of whether or not you're having a fever dream, you are very alive.

Ink attempts to slather or catch you in what looks like his namesake. You scramble and dodge, but the routine is tiring you out quickly. Then, right as you're cornered (in an invisible corner, of fucking course,) a hole opens.

"Dude, you left your- Uh." Error looks between you and Ink, clearly not understanding. "Scarf..."

Ink swings his paintbrush (Broom? Roomie? You forgot) down to rest at his side. "Oh, thanks! I didn't even notice. Just lay it somewhere. Gotta fix this first." You avoid another splatter, feeling like you're on the other end of mickey in that one Wii game with the paintbrush.

"Why's it so empty?" Error asks, glancing around.

"Just did a mass wipe. Decided a fresh canvas was in order."

"Oh. Okay."

You groan, dodging another splatter. "Why the fuck am I even in the doodle sphere?!"

Ink frowns. Error whistles, low and long. "Wow, you accidentally drug a creator here?"

"Shut up." Ink shoots again but misses widely.

Error snickers. "Let me handle this, squid." You watch his hands raise and remember what Error does for a living.

"Fuck no!" You scream, flailing and losing your balance. One minute, you're standing in a white room, and the next, you're nowhere.

It feels like you're falling for eternity. Darkness swims in your vision, making your brain try to fill in the gaps by tricking you with false images. If you scream, you sure can't hear it. Numbness creeps in.

A white oval emerges. Then it stays. Its not a false image? A form takes shape as if your eyes had to adjust. Half circle eyes, two cracks, and a thin smile. The body of spilled ink.

"Gaster." He makes a series of strange noises. Wingdings? "I'm sorry, I can't understand. I- I'm in the void, aren't I?" He nods, and two ghostly hands form before your very eyes. He holds them out to you. "Do you know the way out of here?" Another nod. You take his hands. His figure appears as if it's dissolving, then when you look down, you look the same, like a ghost. The hot iron of fear strikes you. "Wai-"

Your sound is cut out. Once again, for the umpteenth time today, your mind blanks out. An uncomfortable trend.

The first thing you register is cold. It's on your back, arms, head, everywhere. The next is something wet. You groan and shift. Why can't you be left to sleep in peace? WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE. You sit up quickly, disturbing the snow that had been blanketing you before. Something white and fluffy yelps. Your vision clears. Oh! It's a dog.

"Hey there, little guy. Thanks for the wake-up call." The dog barks cutely. You pet it, encouraged by the furious wagging of its tail.

A figure emerges in the distance, but it's hard to see through the snowfall. Whoever they are, they must be tall. Maybe someone on a rescue team? That'd explain the dog. You must have been drugged or passed out somewhere. It couldn't have been a long time since you're still alive in this weather. All your limbs have circulation, and you can't smell rotting flesh.

"DOG! UGH, I KNEW THE RED LEASH WAS SUPERIOR!" An odd sentence for someone on a rescue team, but you let it slide. Any help is better than no help. "OH. A HUMAN." Well, what else would you be? A bear?

"Hello? Do you know where this is? I think I hit my head or something." That would explain the hallucination.

"OH NO! A HURT HUMAN!"

It's like your heart stops and speeds up all at once. Papyrus is tall and a little foreboding at this angle. His scarf flaps in the wind that is currently picking up. He makes quick work of helping you up. The dog stays close by, tail wagging furiously.

"THIS IS NO SORT OF WEATHER FOR A HURT HUMAN! I'LL TAKE YOU HOME AND FEED YOU. MY SPAGHETTI IS WORLD-CLASS."

There's no other option than to agree. If this is a hallucination, you won't fight it. Maybe you're lucid dreaming? Intense focus does nothing to change your situation. Not a lucid dream, then. Papyrus carries you and the dog through the storm, who happily snuggles close to you. At least Papyrus blocks the wind blowing towards the two of you. He chatters the entire way to his house. Instead of the familiar house you were expecting, he brings you to a different one. It's a large log cabin with no porch. It looks like they bought more string lights.

"REST HERE, AND I'LL MAKE YOU SOME WARM FOOD." Papyrus sets you down on a kitchen chair, swiping a quilt and tossing it over you. The dog (presumably annoying dog) settles on your lap as if he owns it. You say nothing. Papyrus returns with a plate of steaming spaghetti and water. "I MUST APOLOGIZE. THE FOOD IS REHEATED SINCE I DIDN'T EXPECT YOU. PLEASE DO NOT MAKE IT A HABIT TO NAP IN SNOW POFFS." The spaghetti is great.

"Thank you, this is great. Uhm, weird question, but where are we?"

"MY HOUSE, OF COURSE!" he replies with a warm smile.

"I think they meant geographic location, paps."

And as if Tumblr hadn't already whooped your ass, here arrives Sans Undertale. Where's a dramatic cue of Megalovania à la trumpet when you need it? Honestly, the very last skeleton you wanted to see. It's like your Sans phase is coming to haunt you. Maybe today is just 'the attack of 2010's fandom.' The switch port could not have possibly done less to prepare you for this.

"Uhm, hi," you say. Sans plops himself down across from you at the kitchen table.

"hey. what's up?"

You make an awkward face. "I have no idea where I'm at or how I got here."

Sans takes it all in stride, pulling up your location on google maps and letting you take it all in. It's a country you've never heard of in your life. You rub your hands over your face and feel like crying. Papyrus, out of the goodness of his heart, offers you their couch for the night.

"hey, paps, why don't you get the human some bed stuff?"

"GASP. YOU'RE RIGHT, BROTHER." Aaaaand Papyrus is gone, taking the stairs two at a time.

"so, I couldn't help but notice you had a lot on your mind. penny for your thoughts?" He holds up said coinage, and it earns him a chuckle from you. Sans laughs himself and sets it on the coffee table.

"I promise I'm not insane, but I'm not from here, and I have no memory of this country. At all." Sans' expression betrays nothing. He closes an eye socket.

"eeh, figured that was the case." He sees your startled expression and shrugs. "I'm good at reading people. what do ya remember?" You close your eyes. The memories roll through, starting with a field of white.

"Black. A lot of it. Something...white?" You gasp, and the name flies between your lips before you can stop it. "Gaster."

Sans jerks, and your eyes fly open. He stares at you like he's seen a ghost. Sweat rolls down his skull. "how-" You can feel the frustration from your day boil over, forming tears that roll down your cheeks in thick globs. You sob into your hands, trying to hide it.

"there there," Sans says, patting you on the back. You finish crying quicker than you expected.

"Sorry. It's been a day." Sans nods and drops his hand. It lays limply at his side. "Guess I gotta fess up now. There's no easy way to say this, but I think you of anyone in this universe would understand." Sans watches with bated breath, apprehension bleeding through his sole eye light.

"I'm not from this universe."

"sheesh. and here I was thinking you were a mage or something. what a relief."

#my work #undertale #undertale fanfiction #fanfiction #self insert #gender neutral reader #sans #Papyrus #Ink sans #Error Sans

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marshmallow-phd · 4 years ago

Text

Catching Rain

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Minseok x Reader

Summary: You were more than satisfied with your life. You attended a nice college, had nice friends, a nice boyfriend. That’s what your life was: nice. You weren’t looking for anything more, so what were you to do when this seemingly harmless boy walked into your life and turned your nice little world into one much more dangerous?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Epilogue

The pencil bounced up and down on the folder lying closed on the table. Several students nearby eyed the noise created by the eraser and metal casing (you had an odd love for a good old fashioned pencil that needed sharpening) but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop, not with all this nervous energy surging through your veins. You really shouldn’t be this nervous. This was only a simple… tutoring session? No, it couldn’t really be classified in that category. He wasn’t going to teach you anything – at least, you didn’t think you would be learning anything in this project. Supervising seemed more appropriate. A direct line in case you were stuck – which, to be honest, you already were.

When Sungkyu had told you about this extra credit, it had sounded so easy. Even the outline he’d created had been simple. But your usually creative brain had seemingly run dry of the juice that sustained it. Were you finally finding your fatal flaw? Capturing an image, finding the moment in a sea of moments, that was easy for you. Apparently your talent stopped at the ability to apply that skill to anything else. You’d arrived at the library a whole hour early in an effort to have something started by the time Minseok was sitting across from you. But you just couldn’t find the connection between art and math. You weren’t Leonardo Da Vinci.

“This seat taken?”

Your pencil stopped mid-tap. Face remaining neutral, you looked up. On the other side of the table, Minseok stood casually and waited for an answer. The gray hoodie he’d adorned laid slackly against his torso, hugging his hips where black pants peeked out underneath. One hand held onto the standard backpack hanging off his shoulder while the other was stuffed in his jeans’ front pocket. A sweet, crooked smile stretched across his thin lips. And there your heart went, doing backflips again. With the fear of your voice cracking, you simply gestured to the chair across from you. Nodding, Minseok pulled the plastic seat out from under the table and sat down. “So, how far have you gotten?”

“Not even past the start line,” you admitted. You opened the folder you’d put together for the project to show the pathetic state of your effort. The only scribbles in the margins were from tiny, poorly drawn doodles and some last minutes thoughts from your philosophy class. If someone were to say you were an intelligent person, you would like to agree with them, but this current predicament was making you feel like a fraud.

Taking the outline out of the folder’s pocket, Minseok scanned over the paper. “You know, art and math are more connected than you think.”

You raised an eyebrow teasingly. “Are you going to give me a lecture on how artists have used math to create measurements in their sculptures or paintings?”

“Well, not anymore.”

You laughed. “I get that there’s a connection. Math makes up everything, right? I just can’t find a real world application between photography and math.”

Minseok pursed his lips to the side, thinking. “Maybe you can use math to help you set up a shot.”

“No,” you shook your head. “Pictures are captured organically. If you think about it too much, it loses its magic.” Pushing yourself up, you leaned across the table. You turned on your camera and angled the display screen so you both could see as you flipped through the pictures from the clearing. A small, appreciative smile crept up on his lips. “Capturing your subject is all about the feeling. It isn’t as easy as doing a math problem and then angling your lens before clicking a button. There’s no heart in that. The focus should be on what’s in front of you.”

“But don’t you adjust the shutter speed and light index and other things to change up the picture to capture what you want?”

You felt like a guppy with your mouth opening and closing as you searched for a response. All your brain could come up with was, “Well… yes….”

“So, you do use numbers in your photography.”

“That’s different.”

“How so?”

Suddenly, you were Baby put in a corner.

A non-malicious grin spread across his face. “Just because you don’t realize you’re using the numbers doesn’t mean that you’re not.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the comment. “That sounds an awful lot like a freshman philosophy lecture.”

“Could be. I did only take the one semester for a humanities credit so I could be paraphrasing. But if something stuck then perhaps that’s the one credit that wasn’t a waste of money.”

The laughter coming from you was nonstop. You couldn’t help it. Every little jab and joke he shot off made you feel like you were the only audience member in a comedy club - however, they weren’t gold. The jokes weren’t even that funny. Some of them might not even meant to be jokes. But the bubbly feeling in your stomach pushed its way up and came out before you could fully process his intention. Talking to him was… effortless. And this was barely a conversation. A single warning bell was ringing in the back of your mind. Dangerous territory was near, but you kept walking. Curiosity was a strong attractor.

“So,” Minseok clapped his hands together and folded his fingers, resting his chin on his knuckles. In that single motion, he transformed from the GTA to the optimistic sophomore in his looks. “Can I ask you a question? Besides the one I just did, anyway.”

You nodded, “Of course.” Anything to keep you from actually having to work on this project. Which, obviously, was very counter intuitive, but you would finish it… eventually. And if you didn’t get too much done today, then that was nearly a guaranteed second session.

“As a photographer, what would you say is the hardest thing to capture? Like, in a picture?”

You were taken aback. No one had ever asked you that before. You didn’t even think the topic had come up in any of your classes. Different subjects floated through your head as you tried to find the answer to his question. Moving objects was the go-to reply. But some - like human beings - were easy with the tiniest modifications. There was one thing, though, one particular part of nature that you loved but often gave you frustration. “Rain.”

“Rain?”

“Yeah… Catching rain. You can feel it, but you can’t always see it.” You held out your hand, palm towards the ceiling. “The drops could be pouring down from the clouds, hitting your skin, but the camera can’t capture it.”

“So, what do you do then?” He asked with an eagerness, with true attentiveness and interest in your words. It made you sit up.

“You change your strategy. You slow things down. That’s when it comes out best.”

He nodded slowly. He took in every word you were saying and absorbed it. A warmth spread across your cheeks and you prayed it wasn’t visible to him. Out of nowhere, Minseok cleared his throat and sat back. “Maybe you could use the numbers in the equations.”

You grimaced as you came back to the reason the two of you were here. “That sounds complicated.”

“Okay, then,” he chuckled. “Why not-”

The muddled shrill of a cell phone vibrating against the table. You hadn’t even realized he’d put it there at some point during the conversation. He let out a disappointed sigh as he flipped the device over and checked the identity of the caller. An apologetic look was thrown your way as he answered. “Hello?”

The faint, intelligible voice of another guy echoed through the speaker. Minseok nodded as if the caller could see him.

“Okay. I’ll go now.”

And there was the wave of disappointment. So today was to come to an end already. And you still were no closer to a realization than before.

Minseok pressed the red button and disconnected the call. The smile that he had on his face earlier morphed into a sadder version. “I have to go.”

“That’s okay,” you reassured him. “Hold that thought for next time.”

A spark flashed in his eyes. Was that a bit flirtatious? How bad was it that you could no longer control the fluctuation in your voice?

“And when would next time come around?”

“Saturday?” Eric had to spend the day finishing off the set pieces for the upcoming play. When he was working like that, he could be lost in painting for hours. Getting him on the phone or off the stage would be next to impossible. That seed of guilt was pushing on your stomach again. Hanging out with a guy that made you laugh while your boyfriend was off somewhere else wasn’t a good idea. Maybe you would ask Eric first if he was comfortable with that. If he said no you could always come up with a good excuse to back out.

“Saturday should work.” In a quick motion, he flipped your folder around and wrote down his number. “Just let me know what time works best for you.” Jumping up from his seat, he threw his bag over his shoulder and started to walk away. But after a few steps, he turned back around. A wide, gum-revealing smile spread across his face as he waved casually. But his smile was anything but casual. In it you saw hope, a possibility of something more.

I’m in trouble.

You knew it. You knew very well that meeting up with him was going to lead to a terrible predicament. But as he walked away, you’d resigned to follow that rabbit hole anyway.

Needing a distraction, you hopped up and headed out your own way. There was still another matter you needed to solve and now was the perfect time. With your backpack in the passenger’s seat, you drove out of the parking lot and towards the back roads, taking the same way to the forest you had previously. The wheels of your car matched up almost perfectly with the marks from before. Locking your backpack in the trunk, you pocketed your keys and phone and started hiking. You followed the path to the clearing; your nerves bounced faster and faster the closer you got.

Immediately, you headed straight for the tree that had been your resting place. The grass was taller in only a few short days. The blades scratched gently at your hands as you pushed the blades aside for a better view of the ground. After circling the area, you had to give up. It wasn’t there. The wolf flashed in your mind. Shaking your head, you ridiculed the idea. The wolf couldn’t have taken your notebook… could it? Certainly if he had there would be remnants of paper still around.

Blowing air through your lips, you sat down at the base of the tree. Now what were you going to do?

A rustling nearby made you jump. Out of the trees, the wolf from before - at least, you assumed it was the same wolf - cautiously came towards you. “Did you take my notebook,” you asked out loud. The wolf pulled back his ears in response. Your eyes widened. “Did you?”

The wolf barked. You had to laugh at yourself. You were having a conversation with a wolf. You felt ridiculous. Again.

You sighed. “I guess it's just time to face the facts. It’s gone. Eric won’t be too happy with me.”

The wolf growled before coming up next to you and curling up in the grass to your right. He laid his head in your lap. Yes, this was definitely your wolf. What else were you supposed to do if not pet him?

“Eric will just be disappointed,” you said. “Not like, angry or anything. I’ll need to come up with another place to lose it, though. If he found out that I came to the forest by myself, he’d turn red. Especially after-” You froze, your hand hovering over the wolf’s ears. The news of the campers returned to the front of your mind. They were attacked by an animal - a wolf, most likely. Something still told you that it couldn’t have been the wolf currently resting on your legs. How could he be like a puppy with you and vicious towards others?

Noticing your sudden silence, the wolf lifted his head and looked up at you.

“You didn’t hurt those people, did you?”

The wolf tilted his head to the side. You took that as a good sign.

Reacting to a sound your own human ears didn’t pick up, the wolf’s ears flicked up as he turned towards the trees. He stood up on his paws and pulled on your sleeve with his teeth so you would do the same. One bark conveyed what he was trying to tell you. “Okay,” you nodded. “I’ll go. But you be careful, too, alright? If there’s something… mean running around here, I don’t want you to get hurt either.”

It still amazed you how this animal could somehow understand you. He reared up on his back paws and placed his front on your chest. You were now looking eye to eye with this giant dog. He gave you a sloppy kiss on your cheek before jumping down and nudging you away. He saw you all the way to the edge of the forest. Disappointment weighed you down as you plopped down in the driver’s seat. And you weren’t sure if it was because of the lost notebook or the wolf you were leaving behind.

Minseok ran through the forest back to the house. This whole “mate pull” was starting to scare him a little bit. He’d been trying to find any clue to the rogue wolf that had invaded their territory but a feeling told him to go to the clearing again. You’d come back. He was both elated to see you again and petrified that you were out here with no protection. If he hadn’t come across you… he shivered at the very thought of what could have happened. When he heard something moving close by he needed to get you out of there; he didn’t care if it was the omega or a harmless rabbit. Seeing you go created a whimper in his chest, but he would see you again on Saturday. Goodbye for now wasn’t something to stress about.

After running the perimeter for another hour, he headed back to the farmhouse. The conversation from the library followed him through the trees. He’d simply asked a question to keep the conversation going, but he was finding an allegory within your answer.

You’d said in order to catch the rain in a picture you had to slow things down. Maybe that was the approach he had to take with you. His initial plan had perhaps been a bit too strong. If circumstances were different, it might have worked. But given the fact that he had competition for your heart, that would no longer be a good direction to go in. So he would take it slow. He would get to know you through these small meetings about the project. And he would let you get to know him. Maybe then the pull would grow on your side. Maybe then you would come to him on your own terms instead of him chasing you down. Yes, exactly like rain in a photo.

Now back home with a clear head, he slipped into the jeans he’d hidden in the bushes before walking up to the back door. The kitchen was a ruckus like always as he entered. Most of the pack was home from the university, except for Junmyeon. Kyungsoo and Chanyeol were discussing what to do about dinner while Jongdae and Baekhyun were teasing the younger wolves about… something. Minseok couldn’t really pick up on what they were going on about. No one seemed to notice the eldest’s entrance, but that was alright. Minseok simply grabbed a cup from the cabinet and filled it with water from the tap. Leaning against the counter, he sipped at the room temperature liquid with his eyes trained on the floor.

“Minseok?”

He looked up at the brother who called his name. The kitchen had quite down a few notches. “Yeah?”

Jongdae gave him that concerned gaze that curled the corners of his lips. “Why were you out running by yourself?”

“I was just trying to see if I could find the omega.” While that was the truth, it wasn’t everything that occurred out in the woods. He was getting closer to telling everyone about finding his mate, just so he didn’t have to tiptoe around anymore. He would see how Saturday went and then he would decide.

“But why on your own?”

“I sent him.”

Junmyeon came into the kitchen, taking the leather messenger bag that was draped over his shoulder off and placing it on the kitchen table. “It was just a recon mission.” A little smile perked up in the corner of his mouth. Around the room a few eyes rolled, but no one called out the leader’s exaggeration of the situation. “If he was able to find anything then he was supposed to note it and report back.” He looked to Minseok, who shook his head. There was nothing.

“Still odd that you sent him by himself,” Sehun commented with narrowed eyes.

“I thought he could use the quiet.”

“You are all too loud,” Minseok jumped in. Several voices roared in protest, not realizing that they were instead proving his point.

“What’s for dinner?” Jongin asked, the subject immediately being changed. What a relief it was that they all had a powerful focus on their stomachs - especially when they were empty. Minseok took the opportunity to finish off the water and head upstairs to take a shower.

#exo #exo wolf au #exo wolf!au #minseok x reader #kim minseok #xiumin #exo werewolf au #exo werewolf!au #exo supernatural au #exo series #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #The Untamed Universe #Catching Rain

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srose-foxfire · 4 years ago

Text

Damirae - Vet AU

A/N: Hi! Welcome to my page this is my first ever Damirae fanfic, so I hope you enjoy!

-- -- --

“Thank you again for what you did for Titus, Dr. Roth.”

“It’s my job Mr. Wayne. Please stay safe. You be a good doggie, okay Titus? You were the best patient I ever had.” Raven knelt down to pat the great black Dane on his head, he barked at her happily before his owner Damian Wayne click his tongue to signal Titus to follow him. Raven looked up to the young man dressed in a fancy black suit as he gave her a small smile. Both dog and owner exited the clinic.

Not turning her back toward the two girls that worked the reception desk Raven crossed her arms over her chest, “can I ask why his paperwork was thicker than what our patients usually sign after discharge?” Earlier when Raven had come out of the examination room to say her farewell to Titus, she found that Damian was signing off the discharge papers, but he had a bigger stack than what was usually the norm. She eyed the two girls, with a stern look letting them both know she wouldn’t like whatever they were going to say.

“Girl, we all just added some blank papers with a signature box in the bottom for him to sign!” Roxy exclaimed unashamed she cost the young man much valuable time.

“What for?”

Roxy only gave Raven a dumbfounded look, like she couldn’t understand why Raven would be surprised at her actions, “what for? What for? Girl, he is Damian Wayne! Like the hottest, most eligible bachelor in Gotham! His dad is Bruce Wayne, one of Gotham’s multi-millionaire and owns Wayne Enterprises. I can die happy having the chance to be in front of a god like Damian!”

The second receptionist, named Mayra only snickered before looking up to Raven, “don’t mind her Rae, she just one of those crazies calling themselves a member of the ‘Damian Fan Club,’ but seriously you never heard of the Wayne family?”

“I’m not much for social media or newspapers articles, besides the last nine years I have been focusing on completing my veterinary degree.”

“Well now’s a good time to get out then,” Mayra stated, really hinting on the idea that she should get out more.

“Sounds fun, but I rather focus on my patients right now.” Raven said as she left them both to go back into the procedure room and look at the animals they were caring for. She had entered the room and looked through various folders they had on the counter, she found the one belonging to Titus. Raven opened the folder and reread his report for what felt like the hundredth time.

Damian had brought his three-year-old dog in an emergency, Titus was shot during a drive by. The poor young man was devastated that his animal friend had gotten hurt and didn’t know what to do. Raven who was on duty when Damian came in holding Titus in his arms, took Titus from him and reassured she would do everything in her power to care for his dog. Luckily the bullet only managed to graze over the dog’s shoulder. There wasn’t too much damage, all she needed to do was clean the wound to prevent any infection and help him get out of his state of shock. As a precaution Raven held Titus for two nights to observe him and make sure there wasn’t any other dangers. Now three days later Titus got to return home with his master. It warmed Raven’s heart that she was able to reunite them again.

-- -- --

It’s been over a month since Raven met the infamous Damian Wayne. Well Raven hadn’t really spoken to him personally since Titus was discharged. One of the main reasons she kept hearing the young man’s name so often was thanks to Roxy who couldn’t stop talking about him. She would speak of the countless rumors the media had written about him. The girl sounded she was under a love potion of sorts, speaking of her fantasies she had on Damian. Immediately, Raven would leave the lobby of the clinic whenever Roxy would start her fantasizing lectures. To make matters worse Roxy had the audacity to build a small little altar with Damian’s picture cut out from a magazine article with pink hearts doodled around him.Of course, this didn’t bode will with Raven, this was a pet clinic and if their patients ever saw Roxy’s little corner of honoring the young Wayne; let just say they would be losing some credibility that the staff took their job seriously.

Raven was in one of the examinations room, cleaning the counters and all the surfaces to have it ready for their next patient, when she heard Roxy literally scream. “Oh my god!” Raven dashed out of the room as quickly as she could wondering what the hay Roxy was screaming for this time. Thankfully when she reached the lobby room, the clinic was empty, today they didn’t have as many patients as other days. “He’s here!” Roxy squealed.

“What’s wrong with her?” Raven asked, she didn’t care that her voice sounded very irritated at the moment. She wanted to make her point across to her coworker that this behavior wasn’t acceptable at the clinic.

“Damian is back. He is just been standing there for over half an hour.”

“What?”

Mayra who had her arms crossed over the reception desk shot Raven a look before motioning with her head towards the door. “Yeah, I thought he was going to come in and have us check his dog or something since he brought his pooch along. But they are just standing there. See for yourself.”

Raven cautiously moved behind the receptionist counter and shot a quick glance through the glass door to find Damian, leaning up against a light pole looking down at his phone, while his dog sat beside him. Damian was wearing a black turtleneck, paired with a dark grey jeans. God he was very handsome. Raven couldn’t help but continue to stare at the young man, as he glances away from his small screen to kneel before his dog and pet him lightly on his head. A smiled crept up her face when she saw Damian give his dog a most genuine smile, before Titus moved in to lick his master’s face. Raven could see how much the young man loved and cared for his dog. This is why she choice this career, she wanted to be someone to help and care for people’s animals’ companions because these beautiful creatures are part of a family. It brought Raven joy to see Titus was doing well, he will live many years to come along his benevolent master.

Raven sighed and looked back at Mayra and Roxy. “Well pay it no mind, we have work to do. For all we know he could be waiting for someone and that just happens to be the meeting spot.”

“You don’t think he is out on a date?!” Roxy practically yelled; thankfully the glass was thick enough to minimize her cry or else Damian could had heard her.

“Why should we care if he’s out on a date or not? Roxy go back to work and leave the poor man alone.” Raven added.

“As member of the ‘Damian Fan Club’ it’s my responsibility to make sure no harm comes to Damian and make sure whoever becomes his wife is right for him!”

Raven couldn’t believe this girl, she raised an eyebrow at her, “Seriously?”

“She’s serious.” Mayra who was keeping quiet during one of Roxy’s little fangirl phase. “It’s actually a thing. The club exists and all, bunch of crazies like Roxy here that want nothing more than to go to bed with Damian.”

“You witch! We take our role as Damian’s fans very seriously!”

Raven couldn’t help but feel flabbergasted at the little brunette, “Roxy, I have heard you speaking of the fantasies you have about him.”

“Well Raven, we are allowed to dream, aren’t we? Besides I know very well I am not meant for such a handsome prince like Damian Wayne.”

“Go back to work, I am gonna go finish up room 3 and 5. Then check on the animals we have staying overnight.” Raven said as she looked back out the door and found heat creep up to her cheeks when she noticed Damian catch her gaze towards him. Quickly she turned around and walked towards the door that led to the examination rooms.

-- -- --

It was now 6pm and everyone had already left for the day. Raven was busying herself making sure she jotted down any new appointments on her agenda. Afterwards the young vet made her rounds around the kennels. There were a few animals staying overnight at the clinic, she pulled out their files and adjusted them on a shelf organizing so the overnight staff knows which patients needed more attention depending on their case. There was a back door the overnight staff used to enter from. Soon enough Garfield Logan, the supervisor of the night shift had arrived; Raven went ahead and handed him the full reports on their overnight patients. After she discussed what they were monitoring in each of their patients, Raven went inside the staff’s locker room and changed from her work clothes to her civilian clothes. Raven finally called it a night and said her goodbye as she went for the front door with her shoulder bag.

Once exiting, Raven found Damian was still leaning up against the pole, she was grateful he hadn’t noticed her due to the fact he had his gaze pinned to his phone. Though Titus recognized her, as he stood up and started wagging his tail. Raven quickly turned around; locking the glass door, afterwards she then reached for the metal folding security gate and pulled it towards her to lock the clinic. Unfortunately for her, this gate was due for some maintenance and sometimes instead of smoothly sliding along, the bottom part of the gate would always get stuck. Today of all days the damn gate decided to mock her and really give her a hard time as Raven kept tugging the gate; mentally begging it to obey her. She cursed under her breath, giving in to her defeat. Raven pulled out her phone and was about to call Gar to come help her with the damn gate.

“Here allow me to help.”

Her finger was about to press the call option, when Damian stepped from behind her. She looked up to him and just realized how his eyes were a beautiful emerald color, they held so much warmth in them. Damian gave her a soft smile, before handling her Titus’ leash. Raven had to blink a few times to remember where she was before grabbing the leash, as the young man before her stepped up and gave a good hard tug onto the gate sliding all the way across the door. Needless to say, Raven was impressed how strong Damian was, she noticed how his black turtleneck was tight and his tight muscles were begging to be free from the cloth containing them. A light blush managed to creep onto her cheeks at the idea of a shirtless Damian. What was she thinking?! Raven shook her head a couple of times to get these wild thoughts far away from her mind, she then looked up to Damian gesturing with her head to allow passage towards the thick key lock. Damian side stepped, taking back Titus’ leash as he allowed her to open the lock and passing it through the slotted area to secure the gate.

When Raven finally locked the gate, she looked up to the man beside her and gave him a small smile, “thank you, Mr. Wayne.”

“Please call me Damian, Dr. Roth.”

“Then you may call me Raven, what brings you here? Is Titus unwell?” Raven asked as she bend down and patted the dog’s head, he responded back her gesture by licking her hand. His tongue was very ticklish that Raven couldn’t help but giggle, she looked up to find Damian was smiling down at her. She looked away from him when she could feel heat worm it way towards her cheeks, she prayed her face wasn’t flushed that Damian would notice.

“No, he is doing well. Actually…” Raven looked up to find Damian was looking to the sides as he rubbed the back of his neck. It looked cute nevertheless to Raven, she couldn’t help but snicker very silently at the very nervous young man before her. Finally, Damian turned too face her and extended his hand towards her to help her stand up. “I was wondering if we could invite you out to dinner? As a thank you for what you did for Titus. There’s this restaurant down the street that offers outdoor dining… I mean if that’s all right with you and if you aren’t busy tonight?”

“Actually, I had nothing planned for the evening. I would love to join you both.”

- - - - - -

That was five years ago when Raven had gone out on her very first date with a guy. The sun was coming up over Gotham’s skyline as she looked out the window thanking the universe for the life she had received. Raven had gotten up just a few minutes before the sun was even up, she was wearing a light blue tank top, with a pair of cotton navy blue very short shorts. Just then she heard a stir come from the bed, Raven turned around to find her husband was moving in his sleep. The covers covering him had slipped down his body, exposing his sculpted chest and abdomen, gosh he was so handsome. He was even more beautiful under the sun’s morning light as it highlighted his perfect face. Even after all this time Raven couldn’t help but blush whenever she saw him naked. Her female coworkers -especially Roxy- at the clinic wouldn’t like to admit it but they were jealous that the fact Raven didn’t even try but manage to bag Gotham’s most eligible and hottestbachelor.

Closing her eyes, Raven turned around again to stare out the window as she continues to hear Damian stir in his sleep. Still keeping her back turned she could hear him groining and moving the sheets to the side as he steps closer to her. Damian walks behind her, placing his strong muscular arms around her waist, then pecks her on her cheek before resting his chin on her shoulder. “Good morning Mrs. Wayne,” he says into her ear as Damian begins to trail the tip of his tongue along her neck down her shoulder, just the way Raven liked it. She couldn’t help but blush at how he addressed her. They been married for over two years and she still felt like their relationship was still new to her, exactly like how she felt five years ago. “How long have you been up?”

“Mm…not too long,” Raven answered him as she turned to face her husband and wrap her arms around his neck. She looked him up and down seeing he was only wearing his black cotton boxers’ briefs. Raven then met his emerald gaze she was so entranced with. He gave her a warm smiled before leaning in and placing his lips softly onto hers.

The kiss was soft much like their first kiss, when Damian had come to her apartment to pick up Titus after she dog-sat for him while he was away on a business trip. He was acting very nervous and after being decline of receiving the payment he was offering Raven for her service. He muttered something under his breath in another language and leaned forward to steal her first kiss. Afterwards Damian confessed to having feelings for her since the moment they met and asked if she would give him a chance. Raven answered him she started developing feelings for him as well, before she could say anything more Damian captured her lips once again. One thing led to another that they made love to each other that night. Since then Raven knew she wanted nothing more than to spend her life with Damian.

Now coming back to the present Raven pulled away from their kiss and lightly trail her fingertips over his bare chest; tracing a scar that was over his heart. Damian mentioned to her that as a child his grandfather would make him train day and night just to teach him self-defense. Some trainings were very brutal that most of his scars came from his own grandfather’s hand. It saddened Raven the least to know Damian has been hurt by members of his own family. All she could do for her husband now was kiss his healed scars and hope any painful memories could be covered by her love for him.

Raven wrapped her arms around his waist, then buried her face onto his hard chest; slowly pushing Damian towards their bed. When he was stopped by the foot of their bed, Raven let go and took a small step back before pushing Damian to fall on the mattress. Her husband sat up giving her a sly smirked she so loved. Raven then moved closer to him swaying her hips very seductively. She placed her hands on her hips before finding the waistband of her shorts, Raven never once let her amethyst gaze leave her partner’s emeralds. Keeping her movements very slowly Raven pulled down her shorts. Stepping out of them she walked over to Damian who reached for her waist and bringing his wife down onto his lap. Raven rested her knees on either side of his hips, she then gave him a devilish smile before she pulled her tank top off, now only wearing her cobalt blue lace undergarments before him. Raven could see Damian’s eyes were filled with hunger and desire, he started trailing hot messy kisses just beneath her collarbone. Lightly leaving bite marks to signify she belonged only to him, which Raven didn’t mind at all. Damian then lightly started kissing the top of her plump bosom, she knew she was playing with fire when she was seducing him a few seconds earlier now as punishment Damian was teasing her. Raven didn’t know how much longer she could last.

“I love you beloved,” Damian whispered as he continues to caress her skin with his lips. His hands were running circles on her bare back, before resting and gripping her hips.

Raven let out a moan, before grabbing either side of her husband’s face having his emeralds looking into her amethysts. “I love you too, Damian.” She said softly as she pulled his face to have their lips meet once more. Raven felt an immense happiness consumed her as she shared these moments with her husband. She thanked whatever universe or destiny had made their paths crossed five years ago.

She couldn’t imagine her life differently.

__________________

A/N:

Hello!! If you reached this far first all… THANK YOU!!! I found many amazing completed fic and ongoing fics here on tumblr and wanted to try my hand with my own ideas to show my love for Raven and Damian. I am currently writing two other fics for a separate fandom but will probably start sharing one-shots of Damirae here on tumblr. I have a couple Damirae fics that are on the longer side, those will be posted on my Wattpad page under my user: s03Rose .Those fics are still in development because they will have a plot line to follow so when I get halfway the storyline I will post little snippets here.

On the side note, I started writing fics for my own enjoyment because I want to be a writer, I have original ideas already started but first things first I must practice my writing to see first if it makes sense and if it’s entertaining to read. Also this was my first ever writing a fic filled with some small ‘smut’, I read fics that were on the mature side and wanted to try my hand at writing these sort of scenes. Again I am no good but practice will aid me. I don’t know when I will upload another Damirae fic since I have work and other ongoing personal projects. Please bear with me but do know I will try to update every second week. Till next time!

--Simona R.

#damirae #damian x raven #raven-x-damian #newfanficwriter #fanfiction #demonbirds #dccomics #vet au #dc fanfic #justice league #justice league apokolips war #dc universe #dc universe 52 #damian wayne #raven roth

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1-800-roflmao · 4 years ago

Text

Wash Day Delight Pt. 4

Rating: General Audiences

WARNINGS: None

Fandom: Undertale (Video Game)

Relationships: Papyrus (Undertale)/Reader, Papyrus (Undertale) & Reader, Papyrus (Underfell) & Reader, Papyrus (FSG) & Reader, Papyrus (Swapfell) & Reader

Characters: Papyrus (Undertale), Reader, Edge (UF Pap), and Mentions of Other AU Skeletons

Additional Tags: Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), reader is poc, Reader has curly hair, Undertale Monsters on the Surface, Friendship, Wholesome, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, I'm Bad At Summaries, Not Beta Read, Romance if you squint, Subtext, Let Papyrus be Sassy, Edge Is The Unwilling Dad Friend, Idiots in Love, Fluff and Humor, Slice of Life, Teasing Edge Is Fun, Papy is Best Boi

*Split this chapter into two. Will be posting both today. Morning thoughts and Papy has a great idea! Tried avoiding using y/n as much as I could, but had to this chapter.

PREVIOUS || FIRST || NEXT

She would say morning came too quickly, but in all honesty, this was technically her second time waking up that morning. Somehow, in spite of the tireless workout she had been put through the night before, she had woken up at the usual time right before her alarm--that was NOT set cause she turned that off with plans to sleep in today--would have gone off. She’d spared a single, groggy glance at her phone’s clock. The notifications lining the screen not even registering in her mind. No, she’d get her well earned sleep in had been and without further adieu, she had put the phone back down, rolled over, and snuggled back in for another few hours of sleep.

That had been earlier. Now, she blinked awake as light from the mid-morning sun sneaked through the slim openings of the curtains just behind her bed. Blearily, her eyes followed the rays path across her form, her bed, and eventually over the floor where it seemed to highlight her shed clothes along with the open bathroom. Right… she had forgotten to brush her teeth in her haste to sleep. Rolling her tongue and opening and closing her mouth, she winced as she felt her cheek move against the now very cold wet spot on her pillow. Well, at least that second round of sleep was apparently heavy and content.

“Eugth…” Not that it made waking up in your drool anymore pleasant. Trying to sit up resulted in even more groans as her muscles protested. Yup, there were those core muscles that had been oddly silent yesterday acting up today. Her arm she had tried to push up on had not been too much trouble, but her shoulder had twinged and she had gone back down. She had managed to at least roll on her back and away from the drool pool though. Positives. Focus on the positives. For a few moments, she just let herself completely relax into the mattress and pillows, just breathing--in and out, slow and even, again and again until all her tension dispersed.

“They really did me in,” she mumbled as she began to roll her wrists, “But I’ve got too much to get done to be lyin’ around here all day feelin’ miserable.” Too much considering her now very awake mind realized she had forgotten to wrap her hair, but thankfully she had splurged on satin sheets and pillowcases, so it shouldn’t be too bad. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise, she didn’t get her wrap sweaty… “Still gonna wash it.” By now, she had started stretching and working her shoulders with careful, slow rolls and reaches. The more she moves, the more she’ll loosen up and actually be able to function. She just couldn’t overdue it.

As she moved onto her legs, she couldn’t stifle a little moan of discomfort as she lifted one limb at time to carefully draw her knee in towards her stomach before extending again. It took time, but eventually she was able to push herself up into a sitting position. Muscles in her back, abdomen, and surprising what felt like her butt that she hadn’t been aware of protested, but a few more deep breathes calmed them. Seeing her phone laying on the sheets near her, she guessed earlier that morning she hadn’t bothered to put the phone back where it went exactly, but current her was very thankful for her sleepy self’s carelessness.

Picking up the device, she decided to take a moment to rest before continuing her war against her body. Besides, she could remember that she had messages to reply to. Tapping the screen, she input her pattern and tapped on the messages app. The first one she opened was Coffee’s. “Oooh,” she cooed as she looked over the drawing once again with fresh eyes. Last night, she remembered thinking the hairstyle was cute, but now she could see the little details he included, like his choice of including a custom undercut design. Could her barber achieve that? She’d have to ask, but for now.

(to JavaBoi)

Flooffie: Good morning!

Flooffie: Sorry about not replying last night

Flooffie: This hairstyle is so cute

Flooffie: And the undercut design is SICK!

Flooffie: In a good way

Flooffie: I’d love to wear it, but I’ll have to check in with my barber about the undercut.

She waited a moment to see if he’d answer, but no little dots popped up so she guessed he was possibly still sleeping or he was busy. Most likely the former. Leaving that conversation, she sent a quick message to her barber asking how complicated a design he would be willing to do on an undercut. She hadn’t expected an answer, but no sooner had she went to click the back button, his answer popped up. His answer surmised that he had done more complicated pieces, but it all depends on the design. “Makes sense…” she mumbled before forwarding the doodle to him. It took him a moment longer to reply this time, but his answer had her beaming: “Sure, just get a better reference. Bigger too.”

(to JavaBoi)

Flooffie: I feel like I’m spamming you. Sorry!

Flooffie: But I got with my barber and he said he could do it

Flooffie: Just he needs a better ref

Flooffie: Could you draw it bigger?

Flooffie: I’ll treat you!

She included some pleading and heart emojis for good measure, even though she was sure he wouldn’t mind one bit. Moving on, she opened up a certain someone’s convo, eager to see how he reacted to her last text. A little laugh bubbled past her smile as she saw his reply, full of exclamation marks and a little pause between two of the replies.

(11:33 PM) Papaya: ….

(11:40 PM) Papaya: !!!!!!!

Papaya: TOUCHE! ALTHOUGH I HAD TO GOOGLE WHAT YOU HAD MEANT

Papaya: MY SKILLS AT PICKING UP THESE IDIOMS IS IMPROVING

Papaya: WHO CAME UP WITH THESE THINGS? WHY? WHY NOT JUST SAY WHAT YOU MEAN?!

(11:45 PM) Papaya: YOUR LACK OF RESPONSE MUST MEAN YOU HAVE FINALLY GONE TO BED

Papaya: GOOD

(12:01 AM) Papaya: SWEET DREAMS, (Y/N)

Her amusement at how Papyrus could continue a conversation with no one there was overshadowed by the warmth the last text brought. It was such a simple little thing. It’s not like he had even called her a pet name, but it still had her flushing and turning her face away from the phone like that would somehow ease the heat. Maybe it was because she could see the timestamp and knew he had taken the time to pick up the phone again after setting it down for a while just to send that message. Was it narcissistic to think she was his last thought before he fell asleep? “It’s too early to be this flustered!” she whined, the fingers of her free hand playing with ends of one of her braids, “All over a text that might not have any deeper meaning…”

After her little grumble, she did her best to ignore the sting the words brought. One more deep breath, she turned back to her phone and the texts, allowing a small smile. There was no sense in making herself miserable. It was still a dear friend thinking of her after all.

(to Papaya)

Flooffie: Morning Papi! Hope you had sweet dreams as well

Before she could start her next message, she saw those little dots pop up and chuckled. Of Course he was up already.

Papaya: GOOD MORNING!

Papaya: I DO NOT REMEMBER MY DREAMS, BUT I’M SURE THEY WERE GREAT!

Flooffie: Just like you, eh?

Papaya: OFCOURSE!

Papaya: UM… HOW ARE YOU FEELING THIS MORNING?

Papaya: NOT TOO SORE I HOPE

She snorted at that before replying.

Floofie: Like I got hit by a 18 wheeler in the fast lane and somehow survived to regret it.

Papaya: ….

Papaya: APOLOGIES

Papaya: BUT ARE YOU COMPARING YOUR PAIN TO GETTING HIT BY A SEMI?!

She could just feel his panic and knew he would start fretting through the text. She felt just a little guilty laughing at his reaction. Thankfully, it wasn’t too difficult to calm him down and assure him she was simply exaggerating. No, he didn’t need to take her to the hospital. No, he had not broken her. At Least as far as she knew he hadn’t.

Throughout, she had slowly worked her way to the edge of the bed and now sat with her legs hanging off. In between texts with Papyrus, he opened a few of the others. One was Edge checking in with a reminder that she shouldn’t over exert herself. She went to send a little thumbs up, but paused and instead juggled between two responses. Which would mess with him more? Biting her bottom lip, she finally settled on one and quickly sent it: “Yes, Daddy~”. Knowing Edge, he was up, but wouldn’t look at the message until he had a moment, so she closed the convo. She could see the damage later.

More puns and jokes which she graced with appropriate responses: groans at the especially bad ones and chuckles at the ones that were actually clever. She of course made her approval known with quick little texts and gifs; the bad ones received the same treatment. None of it was mean and to tell the truth, it only fanned the flames for these gremlins as she had learned. They seemed determined to dig up the worst puns they could manage. By the time, she finished replying, she had made it to the bathroom and was finally taking care of her dental hygiene.

Her phone now dinged instead of buzzing with each new text. Most of which were from Papyrus she assumed. Toothbrush in her mouth, she picked up her phone and opened the texting app again as she resumed brushing with her other hand. She had been correct. A line of texts from her friend popped up on the screen and they ranged from bringing up his question about idioms from last night to checking in that she was actually taking the time to rest. She thanked the stars that her phone wasn’t on the larger side as it allowed her to hold and type with one hand.

Flooffie: Decided to make today wash day since people are INSISTING I rest. Was due for one anyway.

Papaya: WASH DAY? YOU HAVE A DAY DEDICATED TO WASHING?

Papaya: I THOUGHT HUMANS PRUNE IF THEY ARE IN WATER TOO LONG?

She let him get out all his ponderings and ramblings, which took a good minute, before she finally jumped in. Although she’d love to convince him it was a secret, sacred holiday and ritual that humans have to partake in a few days a year for… reasons, she fought down her inner prankster and cursed Cash for his influence on her.

Flooffie: It’s nothing elaborate… kinda?

Flooffie: It’s just that people like me tend to have a lot of hair and it takes time to properly care for it.

Flooffie: So, we make a day of it. Chill and relax, pamper ourselves, etc

She was a bit surprised he hadn’t replied immediately and had actually finished with her dental routine by the time he finally texted back.

Papaya: SO IT IS A DAY DEDICATED TO YOUR HAIR?!

Oh, she hadn’t seen this much enthusiasm from him for her hair in a good bit. As his texts came through, she felt touched he wanted to learn more and she was happy to inform him, best she could over text anyway. There was another long pause in between his text. Just long enough for her to reach for her shower handle as she decided to finally take a shower and get started on her day. Her phone dinged and Papyrus changed all her plans.

Papaya: WHY DON’T YOU HAVE YOUR WASH DAY AT OUR HOUSE?!!

#reader is definitely feeling it the after effects #morning thoughts #fluffy feelings #she needs to be careful playing with Edge #gonna bite her on her butt one day #fluff #papyrus #undertale #undertale au #poc reader #curly haired reader #underfell #fellswap gold #swapfell #papyrus x reader #papyrus x you #papyrus x y/n #ut fanfic #fanfiction

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captainjanegay · 4 years ago

Text

Summary: Bucky is a single dad coming back from a work trip with a very bored, very whiney 7-year-old girl. A mysterious stranger with a kind heart and a notebook full of doodles comes to the rescue.

A/N: It's been... so long since I've updated this fic. I'm sorry but life got in the way and I couldn't bring myself to write anything. Here I come with apologies and hopes that you haven't forgotten about the adventures of Bucky, Alex and Steve. I'm gonna treat you with the longest chapter I've ever written (it's like 5.3k). I hope you'll like it, I got a bit carried away and my space-nerdiness is showing every now and then.

The chapters will probably come very irregularly from now on but I'll try my best not to have too long gaps between each update. I love you all and — as always — thank you so, so much for your continuous support. I cherish every single reader, every single like and every single comment you leave here :')

Chapter 7

(5.2k)

When Monday rolls around, Bucky faces New York’s chilly morning as he makes his way to work. It’s been only a few days since he got sick, but he feels significantly better now. His nose might still be stuffed and his throat might feel a bit scratchy, but he is mostly fine. No more coughing fits, no more fever. And it’s not like he could say no when his boss called him to check how he was doing and ask if he’d be able to come by before Christmas to do some required maintenance work.

But it’s fine, since the work at the Institute has slowed down, many people have already taken their days off for the Christmas break. It’s calmer than usual and Bucky can do whatever he’s supposed to do in peace.

It's a bit past noon and Bucky's mindlessly staring at the progress bar on his screen and enjoys his coffee. The peace and quiet — excluding his Christmas playlist playing in the background — is disturbed by the ringing of his phone. Slightly startled, Bucky looks around, searching for the device. After a quick glance at the screen, he answers the call.

"Hi, Buck!" Steve says, his voice soft and warm. "I hope I didn't wake you up or anything. Just wanted to check up on you, see how you're feeling."

"That's very sweet of you," Bucky says, his lips spreading in a smile. "And I'm fine, thank you. Currently waiting for the data backup to finish so you've disrupted my staring contest with the progress bar."

Steve doesn't appreciate the joke. Instead, he asks, "You're at work?" After receiving an affirmative hum, he lets out a slightly annoyed huff. "Why? You should still be in bed! Three days ago you've been barely able to get up for longer than 10 minutes. You should still rest, Buck."

"It's been six days ago, thank you very much," Bucky answers. "And I'm fine, Steve. I promise. I wouldn't come if I was still feeling sick, but the fever's been gone for a few days," two but Steve doesn't have to know that, "and I'm not coughing anymore. I'm as fit as a fiddle."

"I can hear you sniffle."

"It's the allergies," Bucky lies and that makes Steve laugh, although a bit exasperated.

"You're horrible," he says. "Bet you haven't even eaten breakfast or drink enough water or like... didn’t even wear a hat even though you’re sick."

"I did have a toast while I ran to catch the train. And now I'm having coffee for lunch. And it’s not even that cold."

An honest-to-God gasp escapes Steve's mouth after he hears that. Of course he's a Mr. Healthy Lifestyle, Bucky shouldn't even be surprised.

"How are you even functioning? You gotta take care of yourself, Buck."

Bucky's heart skips a bit. It's nice to have someone worry about him. Even if he's being dragged in the meantime. And it was nice when Steve took care of him and Alex back when Bucky was too sick to do this. Of course, he has people who do that. Clint, Tasha, Scott -- he can always count on them. But somehow it feels different with Steve. Steve hasn't been around for years like the others, he's known Bucky for just a few months and he still decided to offer his kindness and care. This thought made Bucky's heart do somersaults in his chest.

So did the fact that Steve had a nickname to Bucky's nickname. And he's been using it a lot. Bucky really likes it.

"I'm functioning very well, thank you. And so is Alex, because I'm not as hopeless in taking care of her, luckily," Bucky chuckles. Before Steve can't say anything, Bucky adds, "Besides, I've been able to survive 28 years like this so don't be overdramatic. No need to go all mother hen on me."

"Oh, you think this is overdramatic?" Steve asks, amused. "You clearly don't know what me being overdramatic is, pal. This is just some simple, friendly check-in."

"Okay, now I'm kinda curious," Bucky says. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much. "Hypothetically, what would one have to do to see what is Steve Rogers's definition of overdramatic?"

It makes Steve let out another laugh. "Careful what you wish for, Buck." It sounds like Steve wants to say something else but there's some noise in the background and his voice becomes distant and inaudible for a moment. When he comes back, he says with a sigh, "Sorry 'bout that. I need to go back to work. I'm glad you're feeling better but eat a proper meal or I'll hunt you down."

"Oh, so no mother hen anymore, were going straight to threats, okay." Bucky nods to himself and Steve huffs out a laugh. "Thanks for the call, Steve. It's very sweet of you. Have a nice day."

"You, too. Say hi to Alex from me."

"I will. Bye, Steve."

A small smile is still present on Bucky's face when a few hours later he's picking Alex up from school. It grows bigger when she runs towards him down the stairs, her haphazardly wrapped scarf fluttering behind her. He takes a moment to tuck it properly and then takes Alex's backpack from her.

“How was school today?” Bucky asks as they head home.

“Fine. We played soccer and I scored once!” Alex answers proudly. “Even Adrian didn’t and he’s very good. Maya didn’t want to play ‘cause she says girls shouldn’t play soccer.”

“Jokes on her, because we have a women’s national soccer team and they’re the best. They’re the world champions.”

A gasps escapes Alex’s mouth. “Really? That’s so cool! I want to be a soccer player when I grow up!”

“Not a ballerina, anymore?” Bucky asks, with a small smile.

“No, I’m gonna be a ballerina but I’m gonna play soccer sometimes, too. But that’s after I’ll fly to the moon!”

Bucky only nods and grins at her. He wouldn’t be surprised in the least if she actually pulled that off in the future. There weren’t many things that could stop her since she decided upon something.

“How’s space?” Alex asks, swinging their hands back and forth.

Bucky chuckles. It’s a bit of a tradition at this point. He doesn’t really remember how it started but now she never asks him “how’s work” but it’s always “how’s space?”. Personally, Bucky loves it. It makes him feel like he’s doing much cooler things that he really does.

“Pretty boring, sadly,” he admits. “Didn’t have much to do today and many people are on their breaks so no fun space facts to share today. I chatted on the phone with Steve and he wanted me to say hi to you.”

“Oh, is he coming over today?”

Slightly confused with the question, Bucky shakes his head. “No, he’s not. We just talked on the phone. Why?”

“I don’t know, I thought you liked Steve.”

“Well, I do. I like uncle Scott too but we don’t hang out with him every day, either. Steve has his own life and stuff to do, so we shouldn’t bother him all the time.”

Alex makes a small hum and Bucky’s not sure if it’s a dismissive or an agreeing one. After a moment, she adds, “I bet he wouldn’t mind though. He told me he really likes you.”

“What? When?” The revelation almost makes Bucky stop in the middle of the pavement. The biggest surprise is not that Steve likes him, Bucky has figured out this much after all those times they’ve hung out together. What really takes him aback is that apparently his daughter and Steve are having conversations about him when he’s not there.

“When you were sick and Steve went to ballet class with me. I told him he’s cool and I’m happy you have him so you’re not so lonely. And he said he thinks we’re really cool too and that he likes us a lot.”

This time Bucky slows down and eventually stops. There’s a furrow between his brows when he looks at Alex.

“Why would you think I’m lonely, munchkin? I’m not, I have you and mama, uncle Clint and Scott. And now Steve. I’m more than fine.”

“Well… Okay, maybe I didn’t mean lonely. But sometimes when you have a lot to do and you worry and mama or uncle Clint are busy you do this—” Alex furrows her brows and pouts, apparently imitating a worried Bucky “and you’re quiet and worried. And now you smile even more than you did. You smile all the time when you text Steve.”

For a moment, Bucky only gapes at her, not sure how to react. That’s a lot of information coming at once from his 7-year-old daughter.

“I’m— Well, I’m okay, even if I worry sometimes. And I couldn’t be lonely, having such a sweet little munchkin by my side,” he smiles, bopping her on the nose and getting a smile in return. “But thank you for caring about me, sweetheart. I love you to the moon and back.”

“And I love you to Jupiter!” she answers.

“But not back?” Bucky raises an eyebrow.

“Nah, it’s already so far away, it’s enough.”

The conversation with Alex stays in Bucky’s head for the rest of the day. It’s gnawing at him enough that before he goes to bed, he takes out his phone and calls Natasha.

“How’s my favourite co-parent doing?” she greets.

“Do you have any more co-parents?” Bucky asks instead of answering.

“Nope. That’s what makes you my favourite.” Bucky only sighs so she continues. “Did something happen? You’re usually in the mood for late night conversation when something’s on your mind.”

There’s no point in denying it since Natasha would see right through him. “It’s nothing bad. Apparently Alex thinks I’m lonely.”

“Well, she’s not wrong.”

“What? Tasha, no. I’m not lonely, where did you two get that idea?”

“James, it’s not my fault that you’re an idiot. I know that you have people who love you around. You know that, too. But I know and you also should know — but here’s the ‘idiot’ part — that it might not be enough sometimes. And I’m pretty sure we’ve had a similar conversation like a month ago, so I don’t know why you act all surprised now.”

“Remind me, why did I even call you?”

“Because I am incredible and you value my opinion like no one else’s and also you love me deeply,” Natasha explains dutifully.

Bucky huffs out a laugh as he sits heavily on the side of his bed. His eyes land on the comic from Steve, still laying on Bucky’s bedside table, propped against the lamp. “Sounds fake, but okay.”

“Did our daughter have any more revelations for you?” Natasha asks.

“Well…,” Bucky hesitates for a moment. “She and Steve gossip about me when I’m not around. And apparently I’ve been smiling more lately. But that’s about it.”

Natasha hums but even through the phone Bucky can hear that she’s rather amused.

"What?" Bucky asks.

"I didn't say anything!"

"I can hear you laughing, just say whatever mean thing you're going to say and let's get this over with."

"I'm not gonna say anything mean! I was just wondering when we'd mention Steve in this conversation," she chuckles. "But really. Even your daughter can see that a relationship would be good for you. And that you like Steve a lot. Why not kill two birds with one Steve?"

Bucky sighs. "Because one Steve is also enough to kill this friendship we have."

"Why do you always just automatically assume that things will get fucked? It doesn't have to be the case. I'm serious, you'd better take a grip on yourself and ask him out or I'm back in three days and I'll do this for you. And I'll be as obnoxious and embarrassing for you as I can."

That's actually a pretty horrible threat. She would do that. And it would be both mortifying and horrible to experience for all the involved parties — maybe except Natasha. Bucky laughs, trying to imagine it, but the laugh is short-lived.

"Come on, Nat," Bucky starts after a moment, getting serious. "Steve is great and it's great having him around. But what if I make a move and he's not interested? I don't want to freak him out. Or remember that message I accidentally saw on his computer? He might be seeing someone already or be interested in someone else," Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. "Plus, I know from experience that no matter how much he might seem to like me, a guy with a kid can turn out to be a bit much for people. I don't want to get hurt. I don't want Alex to get hurt. She adores Steve and I don't know if I can risk it."

"But I'm telling you, nobody's getting hurt anytime soon," Natasha chimes in. "You're overthinking, Yasha. Those are all valid concerns but you know what the counterargument is?" She takes a small break but she's not expecting Bucky to respond. "Steve's a good guy. He likes you. He likes Alex. He came to a primary school dance recital after knowing you for like a week just because you and Alex asked him to. Even if he doesn't want a relationship, it doesn’t mean that your friendship has to end. From all you've told me, he doesn't seem like the kind to trample on your hearts like this. Give yourself some time, but promise me you're gonna think about it, okay? And call me if you work yourself up into an anxious mess again, okay?”

“I will try not to be an anxious mess, but I’ll let you know. And I’ll think about it. Thanks, Tasha.” Bucky says.

“I love you no matter what, you dumbfuck. Bye.”

Bucky barely manages to say it back before she hangs up. He shakes his head with a small smile and retrieves his charger cable from behind the bedside table. As he plugs his phone, he accidentally knocks down the drawing from Steve. He picks it up, staring at the soft lines for who-knows-which time. His thumb gently traces the “Get well soon, Buck! x” scribbled at the bottom.

Looking at it, Bucky imagines the moment when Steve was writing it down. In his mind, he sees both Steve and Alexandra at the kitchen table, both leaning over their respective pieces of paper, focused on whatever they’re drawing. They are smiling, chatting about whatever common interest they’ve currently discovered. It’s a very nice picture. Enough to make Bucky’s heart ache.

Because Natasha is right. This is exactly what Bucky craves and what he’s been ignoring for years. That domesticity, that warm feeling one gets when looking at someone they care about. That happiness. He can almost imagine himself joining the picture he’s created in his head, walking over to that table and dropping a kiss first on Alex’s head and then on Steve’s, before he starts preparing the dinner. It feels right.

Maybe it’s not usual to imagine this calm, family life with someone he’s not even in a relationship with. Most people probably think of tons of other things, things that are not so… settled. Not as serious. Sometimes they never reach this part. But Bucky has figured a while ago that it doesn’t really work for him. He already has a family. And this family means everything and more to him. If he ever was to date, he has to make sure that the person would fit into his and Alexandra’s life. He has to skip ahead to make sure it’s worth going through the dates and the passion and all the work a relationship requires, without it all ending in a heartbreak. But Steve…

Steve fits so well into this picture, it scares Bucky a bit. Because this would be even harder to let go, if things didn't work out.

It's pretty clear, now that he allows himself to think about it, that he has some feelings for Steve. Besides the friendliness and sympathy, that is. They're the romantic kind and they're still fresh and shy but they're here. And Bucky has absolutely no clue how to deal with them. It's not even that surprising, he realises. Because how could he not catch feelings for Steve? For the kindest, most thoughtful and most selfless person in the world? For someone with his heart made of gold, who always knows how to make Bucky laugh? Someone who gets so passionate about the things he loves and just as much about the ones he despises? Who cares deeply, laughs with his whole body and who next to all this softness and kindness, is also a stubborn little asshole? Who — and this is the most important of all — adores Alex and whom she adores just as much?

Bucky's heart was a lost cause from the start.

Steve has a lot of qualities that Bucky would fall for if he looked for a partner. And that he accidentally might have fallen for anyway. And that's all without even mentioning that Steve is so ridiculously attractive that it might've skewed Bucky's view on beauty forever.

The point is — Natasha is right. That this could be a good thing. They could be a good thing. But what they have now is already good and Bucky really values this friendship. He isn't sure if pursuing a hypothetical picture in his head is worth putting it at risk. Because he still can't be sure if Steve's interested. For what Bucky knows, he's kind and caring towards all of his friends. It doesn't mean that Bucky and Alex are special.

He can almost hear Natasha's voice in his head, calling him an idiot and yelling that he won't know until he tries. Which is right, since Natasha always is. It doesn't help him stop the — partially excited but mostly terrified — somersaults his insides make. With a small sigh, he puts the drawing on its place by the lamp, flicks off the lights and burrows himself under the covers. He doesn't have to have everything figured out straight away. Letting himself even consider it is a big enough step for now, he decides as he drifts off to sleep.

The next day is Bucky's last day at work before the Christmas break. He doesn't really have much to do, just finishing some last updates and dealing with whatever paperwork he was putting off earlier. Most of the time, he chats with Scott, who has been wandering aimlessly around the institute for the lack of work and eventually landed in Bucky's tiny office. They've been chatting about their Christmas plans — nothing too elaborate for both of them, just simple time at home with their families — and now they started discussing where they should go to grab some lunch. Just as Bucky almost convinced Scott that they should go to this sushi place down the block instead of the Italian place, there's a knock on the door.

Bucky sends his friend a confused look.

"It wasn't me," Scott raises his hands in defence.

"Come in," Bucky calls after another second passes. It's probably someone having a last-minute computer problem or one of his co-workers wanting to drop by with Christmas wishes.

Except, when the door cracks open, Steve's head pokes in. Its hair is messy, its cheeks reddened from the cold and its lips spread in a smile.

"Hi, Buck. And hi Scott, it's nice to see you again," he says. "I'm not interrupting?"

And because Bucky's brain is still processing the fact that for some reason Steve's come to visit him at work, Scott's the one who says, "Not at all, come in."

Steve hesitates for another second. Bucky's brain finally kicks in and he smiles which is apparently the invitation Steve needed, because he finally fully walks into the office.

"Hi, Steve. I didn't expect you here," Bucky says, his smile growing bigger.

"Well, you should. Because after our talk yesterday, I decided to bring you lunch," Steve says, proudly showing a big paper bag in his hand. "I told you you haven't seen shit, and especially not overdramatic me."

This makes Bucky laugh out loud as he shakes his head in disbelief. How is Steve even real?

Scott is watching them with a slightly confused but endeared smile on his face. Before anyone can say anything, he gets up from the chair, slapping his thighs as he does.

"Okay then, I'll leave you to it," he says, walking towards the door.

"There's plenty to share, if you want to join us," Steve offers, because of course he does. His gold-heartedness wouldn't have it any other way.

But Scott only shakes his head at that. "Nah, I'm in the mood for some sushi today. Thanks, though."

"Asshole," Bucky narrows his eyes at Scott. "I hope you'd choke on it."

His friend only laughs at that, "Enjoy your lunch date! It's been great to see you, Steve. Merry Christmas."

"You too, Scott. Say hi to Hope and Cassie from me."

With one last grin aimed at Bucky — and a very pointed look behind Steve's back — Scott leaves them alone. Bucky tries not to dwell on the fact that Steve didn't even bat an eye when Scott called it a lunch date.

"Why should he choke?" Steve asks with a chuckle.

"I've been trying to talk him into going to that sushi place for almost twenty minutes before you came," Bucky sighs and then notices that Steve is still hovering by the door. "Come on, take your coat off and sit down. I can't believe you've brought me lunch."

Steve shrugs off his coat and leaves it on the hanger by the door, next to Bucky's. Today he's wearing a maroon sweater that really suits him and a pair of dark jeans. He pushes his sleeves up before he digs into the bag and Bucky tries not to stare too obviously.

"Someone's got to make sure you eat, since after yesterday I've gotten an idea you're not good at it yourself," Steve says. "Guess it wasn't necessary. Sadly, I don't have sushi but maybe you're in the mood for Thai?"

"Depends on whether you've brought me the dumplings or not," Bucky answers.

Steve laughs in response and takes out one of the boxes and hands it to Bucky. "I did. I also have green curry for you? I hope I remembered correctly that you like it? If not, I'm sorry, we can switch—"

"Steve." Bucky says solemnly, placing his hand on Steve's forearm, to stop him from fumbling with the food. "You not only brought me food but you remembered my favourite after I mentioned it one time. You are an angel. You should hide it better, because you make us mortals look bad."

He's only half joking. Steve does seem like a higher being of some sorts and it's unfair that Bucky's poor heart is supposed to handle it. It doesn't do a great job. Especially not when Steve laughs, his eyes crinkle so much they turn into thin slits.

"And I am the overdramatic one?" Steve asks, unpacking the last things and finally sitting on the chair across from Bucky. He's still smiling but there's a blush colouring his cheeks and creeping down his neck.

Bucky bites the inside of his cheek to contain a grin but the truth is, he's immensely proud of himself for pulling this reaction out of Steve. To stop himself from saying something stupid, he digs into his food.

"By the way, how did you find me here?" Bucky asks, his tongue sticking out a bit in concentration as he fishes for a dumpling with his chopsticks.

"Clara let me know where your office is, she was very helpful."

Bucky furrows his brows. The surprise makes him drop his dumpling back into the container. "Clara, as in Clara Oswald, our receptionist? How do you know her?"

"I don't. We've chatted for a few minutes and I explained why I'm here and she told me how to get to you."

"Ah, of course it took you about five minutes to charm her and get into a government building just like that," Bucky chuckles.

"I didn't charm anyone! I just politely asked and she helped!"

If it wasn't Steve, Bucky would take it as fake modesty. But the truth is that Steve really seems to be completely oblivious to the effect he has on people. It’s endearing to see him do this.

"So here's when you do your cool space stuff?" Steve asks, changing the subject.

"Here's when the real scientists come searching for help when there's some IT-related issue," Bucky corrects him. "I don't do anything cool. I make sure all the data is where it's supposed to be and that whatever equipment they need is ready and working properly. Or part of it, Scott's an engineer and he takes care of the rest. I do get to read some space facts first hand, though."

"That's still cool space stuff for me," Steve shrugs with a small smile. "What kinds of things are you researching here? Like some particular aspects of outer space, or—?"

Normally Bucky would just give the shortest answer possible. People usually get bored quickly when he starts talking about it. But something in the genuine interest on Steve's face, the way he is looking around the office — which is nothing special, the only nice things are the sky maps and some spaced themed art — makes Bucky think that maybe Steve wouldn't mind getting the longer answer.

"Well, we mostly study the weather. Both the Earth's and the one in the solar system, like the solar winds and magnetic storms, stuff like that. We study exoplanets and try to discover or guess as much as we can about them," Bucky says. "I helped to create simulations that predicted how they could look like and develop, to see if there's a possibility to inhabit them. We did it by basically dumping all the data we have into an elaborate computer programme and waiting to see what comes out." Bucky laughs and Steve does too, but he has the look of utter fascination on his face as he listens. "And all this helps with some more down-to-earth stuff — pun not intended. Like, we've done tons of studies in climate change."

"That's—," Steve starts when he makes sure that Bucky's done. "All of this sounds incredible. And you're a part of all those amazing things, how great is that?"

Bucky feels that his cheeks start to burn. There's another reason he usually sticks with the short answer. As much as he's proud to be working here and as much as he loves it, the impostor in him always makes sure that he understands the difference between his work and the actual research, analysis and all the heavy lifting that the astronomers do. He helps, of course he does. He does a great job at it, but there's still a difference. And such praise usually makes him squirm uncomfortably.

"And don't even try to get all modest with me again," Steve warns as if he's been reading Bucky's mind. "You've said that you don't do cool space stuff and then admitted that you've helped to create a program to imagine how exoplanets can look and change. So I know you're full of bullshit."

Steve raises an eyebrow in what's supposed to be an unimpressed look but it's not even close. The smile and the curious, bright eyes that are stating right at Bucky are destroying the effect. The blush on Bucky's cheeks only deepens, especially as Steve adds. "I've been impressed before but— Wow. Really, you guys are doing such incredible things here, I can’t wrap my head around it."

"We really do," Bucky agrees, eventually.

The beaming smile Steve sends him feels like a reward Bucky didn't know he deserves.

"So you've always liked space? Or was it an accident that brought you here?" Steve asks.

"No, I've always loved it. It's just so fascinating and there's always so much more to learn about it," Bucky doesn't even try to hide his excitement. "I've never fully understood all the science behind it but I loved staring at the sky, trying to find all those constellations and planets and galaxies. I've figured a way to somehow connect it to what I was good at and make it my job. Which is amazing. But now I mostly stare at the computer screen instead of the stars. "

He doesn't want to sound ungrateful but he must admit that it does kill some of the fun. But not even the astronomers simply state up at the sky to admire the view.

Steve only nods in response. "Alex mentioned that you guys went on a trip out of town to watch the stars. It must've been great."

"We did! It was like… almost 2 years ago, I think? I borrowed one of those fancy telescopes they have here. I needed to pick Alex up every time, cause she was too small to reach it," Bucky laughs as he brings out the memories. "It was fun, we should do that again, sometime. But I don't have much time now, so it’ll have to wait."

"It does sound great," Steve smiles that soft smile again. "I hope you'd find some time as it gets warm enough for such trips. I bet Alex would be delighted."

"Yeah. I'll let you know if that happens, in case you'd like to join," Bucky says before he can think better of it.

There's more of the childlike excitement on Steve's face as Bucky mentions it so maybe it wasn't that bad of an idea.

An actual bad idea comes out of Bucky's mouth a bit later, just as Steve is getting ready to head out. Bucky's lunch break is long gone and forgotten, because it's been two hours that Steve spent here. He apologises for staying so long and the assurances that Bucky didn't have any more work to do doesn't help.

"I'm sorry for taking your mind away from your responsibilities, but it was great spending time with you," Steve says.

So of course, because Bucky's heart doesn't get any chance to regroup, he doesn't have time to think before he blurts out. "We should have dinner together."

It's certainly not something Steve was expecting to hear. He just stares at Bucky. Before he has a chance to say anything, Bucky continues, "I mean. You should come for dinner. Clint and Nat are always around for a dinner, sometime between Christmas and New Year's. If you don't have any plans, it would be great if you came. But it's okay if you can't or don't want to."

Another moment passes and Bucky tries not to squirm under Steve's gaze. Luckily, Steve finally blinks and smiles as he says, "No, Buck, of course I'd love to come! I don't have any particular plans, will probably hang out with Sam for most of the break but I'll have plenty of time."

"You could take Sam with you," Bucky adds. He desperately tries to regain the control of his own mouth. "It'd be great to finally meet him."

"I'll let him know, I bet he’d be happy to come, too. Thanks again for the invite," Steve smiles as he cracks open the door. With a little wave, he walks out of the office. "Bye, Buck. Have a nice day."

"You too, Steve," Bucky says to the already closing door.

When Steve's gone, Bucky exhales heavily through his mouth as he leans back in his chair. Both of his hands go up to thread through his hair, tugging at it lightly.

Apparently, he has a dinner to prepare.

taglist: @steverrogers @till-the-end-of-the-line-punk @buckyshappyending

#where i'm meant to be #stucky #stevebucky #stucky fic #stevebucky fic #stevebucky fanfiction #stucky fanfitction #chapter 7 #my wrtiting #wimtb #sorry it took me so long!#i really hope you'll like it :')

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logical-little-lies · 5 years ago

Note

Can we get super little to who's trying to hide that he's little at all from the others by repressing and drowning himself in work?

SORRY IT’s BEEN FOREVER SINCE THIS WAS SENT IN BUT HEREEEE

Babyspace and Lying to Daddy-Agere!Sides AU (pt.29)

Roman whined quietly, biting at his lip and deciding the rest his chin in his hand for a moment. He was surrounded by papers, drowning himself in work that could probably wait. Along with just getting to see his brother again, there were a lot of emotions and stress that came with it. Not to long ago, Roman broke down and regressed very deeply when Virgil put him in timeout.

And now, it seemed that that kept happening. He felt so small, not the normal bratty five-year-old kiddo vibe, but a very contrasting soft, cuddly, baby boy headspace. His mind felt fuzzy, and he just wanted to be held. It felt different, weird, and wrong in a way. So, his solution to a problem that wouldn't exist if he didn't overthink things, was to work and distract himself until the issue disappeared.

He usually wasn't the one who had an issue with hiding when he was little, he was usually the one who had to pry at Virgil for it. He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and taking a breath. He got out of his chair and left his desk, going out into the commons. "Roman! Salutations," Logan gave a polite little wave from the couch, where he sat reading some book.

"Hey," Roman mumbled, rubbing at his eye. It was way harder than it should've been just to talk normal.

"Are you quite alright? You seem exhausted, should I get Virgil for you?" Logan quickly bookmarked his page and abandoned the informational source on the coffee table.

"N-no, I'm fine, promise," He was quick to speak, even if it was slight muttering.

"Alright, but you should eat something and try to rest," Logan seemed to be less tense. "Actually, Patton's in the kitchen. I'm sure he'll offer to make you something."

Roman nodded, going into the kitchen as planned. It's not like he was actually that tired, but he had acquired some soft of headache from repressing regression, and he felt a mix of emotions and stress. "Hey there, princey," Patton greeted him with a smile from his spot at the kitchen table, where he was eating oatmeal and working on a puzzle.

"Hi," Roman squeaked,pausing before going to a cabinet to see what he could make himself.

"Sit," Patton instructed, and Roman didn't bother to argue. "How do you want your oatmeal?"

"Not to thick, not to thin. Little bit of milk, cinnamon, and honey. And three spoonfuls of sugar," Roman sighed, and Patton set to work.

"That's a lot of sugar, but as you're not little, I guess no one can tell you not to do what you want," Patton knew it wouldn't hurt him, so he heated up the stove to boil water. While it boiled, he got out a bowl and put the oats in it.

"Do you wanna stay out here and work on the puzzle with me? Virgil said he would join me once he got out the shower!" Patton excitedly offered. "Ooh, speaking of the emo," Patton gestured to Virgil, who's hair was still wet as he stood in the doorway of the kitchen.

"You joining us, babe?" Virgil ran his hand through his hair. He had no eyeshadow on, and he had to leave his hood down in order to avoid messing up one of his hoodies.

Roman shook his head, mumbling. "I have some work to do, I just needed something to eat," he bit at his lip slightly. He was nervous, because compared to the two others, Virgil was really good at spotting when he was slipping, even before he did, at points.

Virgil looked like he was gonna say something before Patton cut him off. "He asked for a very sugary serving of oatmeal. Honey and sugar!"

"That would totally make Little Roman bounce off the walls," Virgil chuckled, coming and sitting next to Roman. Patton hummed to himself while waiting for the water to boil, so Virgil leaned closer and whispered to him.

"Hey, Ro. Are you regressing?" he asked hesitantly. Roman didn't respond. "You usually tell me if you're little, or close to it, so if you are I'd like to know. I just want to take care of you."

Roman shook his head, lying to his carer without real reason. "No, I'm fine," he gave a false promise.

Virgil didn't seem completely convinced but he let it go for the moment. "Well, are you okay overall?" he questioned, and Roman nods again. Virgil leaned forward, kissing his cheek lightly. "Alright. I love you,"

"Love you too," The act of affection made Roman want more affection, but his mind was pretty set on repressing this deeper regression.

"What'cha working on, anyways?" Virgil spoke again after a little silence.

"Uh, planning videos for Thomas, n' other stuffs," Roman cursed himself for the slight use of little speech. This is when Patton set the bowl of finished oatmeal in front of Roman, who picked it up and was quick to get up. "I'm gonna head back to my room and keep working. Thanks Pat," he gave a small, slightly awkward smile before heading out.

Virgil sighed once he left, "I'm like pretty sure he's repressing littlespace for some reason."

Virgil groaned. "It seemed like something was off, maybe you should go check on him? Figure out what is up, and if it is the regression thing, figure out why," Patton offered.

"I'll bring a sippy cup of juice," Virgil decided, getting up and reaching for Roman's prince sippy cup. "As a peace offering," he joked. He paused, and grabbed another one, it had a softer nipple. It was more bottle-like.

Patton got the apple juice out of the fridge and handed it to Virgil, who filled the pinkish-red cup about 3/4 of the way full, before twisting on the lid and heading back to Roman's room without another word. He knocked on the wood lightly, and he heard a light whine.

"Who is it?" he called out.

"It's Virgil," Virgil was slightly amused by his voice.

"Oh," he heard softly from the other side of the door. Virgil rolled his eyes and opened the door, spotting Roman at his desk. He held a pen in his hand, and he shyly dropped it when he saw the sippy cup in Virgil's hand.

"Hey, ro. What'cha doing?" Virgil closed the door behind him coming over to stand behind Roman's chair. He silently sat the sippy cup in front of Roman.

"Nothing," he tried to move all him papers and stack them up, to cover the adorable cloud, flower, and heart doodles on his paper. The other pages were actual work.

"That page of doodles is 'nothing'? Well that specific type of nothing is very, very adorable," Virgil's dorky comment made Roman giggle. He then cover his mouth and whimpered. Virgil sighed, motioning to Roman to get up from the chair. He did so, and Virgil pulled out the chair father, sitting down and pulling Roman onto his lap.

"Tell me what's going on, baby," Virgil ordered,one arm around Roman's waist, and the other occupied playing with his hair.

"Nothing going on, daddy," Roman tried to sound promising. Virgil could've audibly cooed at his first use of a caregiver name besides 'veevee'. Roman felt much smaller than usual,leading him to be more dependant on Virgil.

"Don't lie or you'll get a punishment," Roman whimpered at this, causing Virgil to reassure him quickly. "But I'm sure you'll talk to me before we get to that point, hmm?"

"I feel very little...woke up feeling like dat. Hard to talk, I want cuddles, and I feel like a baby," Roman admitted.

"That's okay, princey! It just means you have a deeper end to your headspace," Virgil coaxed him more by continuing to play with his hair. "Do you wanna tell me why you tried to hide that you felt little? You were pretty convincing until you slipped up on the little speech."

"I'm always da biggest one! big prince, even when I'm little. Never felt babyish before, feels weird," he pouted, trying to hide his face in his hands.

"So you tried to distract yourself with work, and then lie to me?" he questioned, and Roman whimpered again.

"Sorry, daddy. I be good, very good, promise!" He squeaked.

"I'm sure you will, little one. You're not in trouble, but I do want you to know that you never have to hide your little space from me. No matter how small you are," Virgil kissed the side of his head. Roman nodded, bringing his thumb to his mouth. "How about we take a break from working and just watch some cartoons? Cuddle for a bit, hmm?"

Roman seemed to like that idea, holding onto Virgil tightly as he picked him up. Virgil was there for Roman.

Even baby Roman.

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solastia · 5 years ago

Text

I’m Fine | 1

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Word Count: 3,600

Summary: I'm fine. That's what he's been telling everyone the past two years since he and his soulmate parted ways.

Genre & Warnings: Soulmate au. Angst. Yoongi is pretty self-destructive at first, so be aware of that. There will be lots of destructive thoughts, drinking, fighting, making drunken mistakes (hint). And I know while you read it you won’t believe me, but this does have a good ending.

A/N: Yes, I have given up trying to make this a one shot. Yoongi wouldn’t cooperate with me, so now this is a series. I’ll try to make it a short series, but it was just too complicated for a one shot. Part of the Love Yourself anniversary collab. Be sure to check out the other authors that participated too!

For those that are familiar with the picture in the banner and are wondering where his the open knee went, no I did not suddenly become a puritan. Yoongi’s knee got flagged so I had to color it in

@sweet-honey-boy is the artistic genius behind the pretty banner

I’m fine.

Such a common phrase. Meaningless these days, really. Just a couple of words thrown together so you’d have something to respond with when someone else throws out the equally meaningless greeting of “How are you?”

They don’t really care how you are, they just want to seem like they do. They’ve already zoned out and have their planned response of “Good” ready and waiting.

“I’m fine.”

He mumbled the phrase, shaking the proffered hand of the bride’s cousin as they all waited their turn to go into the room and greet her. It was the same phrase he’d repeated at least twenty times today alone as old friends and family of the bride asked him how he was with pity shining in their eyes.

The same phrase he’d been using for two whole years since his soulmate broke up with him and moved on with her life.

Yoongi could still remember the first time he’d learned about soulmates. It had been in the second week of his kindergarten class when one of the kids next to him started giggling as his arm slowly began to be filled with doodles. Hearts, smiley faces, and stars soon lined the boy's arm from elbow to wrist. The teacher then decided to use all the kid’s collective excitement to explain about soulmates.

Apparently, there were many different types of soulmates. There were the ones that could write on their skin, like their fellow classmate. There were some that could speak to each other in their heads. Some that had timers on their wrist marking down how long until they met their match. And those were only some of the many ways that their world had that all led to the same idea - finding your soulmate. The person meant to be that one perfect person for you.

Yoongi had gone home that very night and tried to figure out what his type was. He wrote “Hello, my name is Min Yoongi” on his arm, along with a little doodle of Kumamon. Nothing happened. He went to the bathroom and tore off his uniform, searching his skin for any sort of marker or timer, maybe even a tattoo or a bruise that he couldn’t remember getting. His skin remained unblemished beyond a couple of moles.

Over the next few years, he’d secretly researched and experimented with every soulmate type he could find. He never saw any strings, heard any voices or songs, felt anything out of the ordinary. At times he felt a flicker of fear over the stray thought that maybe he didn’t have one. But that couldn’t be right. Everyone had one, right?

When his father divorced his mom- who was his soulmate - and left them both for another woman, that was his first lesson that maybe soulmates weren’t all they were cracked up to be anyway.

By the time Yoongi hit college, he already felt like he’d lived three lifetimes. He was now broken and bitter by life, having spent most of his youth working to care for himself and his heartbroken mom. She’d never recovered after his father left. Instead, she became a hollow shell of the loving woman she’d once been, content to sit at home and do the bare minimum to stay alive, mourning her piece of shit “soulmate” that never even bothered to check up on his own son. He had to force her to eat and sleep, to go outside and get some air and sun. He often ran home from school terrified he’d find her dead, but she kept going thanks to him. There were many times over those years that Yoongi had fought not to give up and do something stupid himself.

Sometimes she’d meet someone during her rare times out alone that would bring a flicker of life back to her eyes, but they usually turned out to be assholes that would pick fights with Yoongi and try to control his vulnerable mother. He was quick to run them off. Yoongi took on any job he could to keep them both fed and housed, even if the rooftop apartment that they’d been forced to move to was crumbling.

Yoongi hadn’t even planned to go to college, as it had seemed such a far off dream for someone like him. He already worked three jobs just to stay alive; where would he get the money to go to college too? Then his father passed away - some drunk driver, according to his latest paramour - and left Yoongi with more money than he’d ever seen before. Apparently, the old prick had been doing quite well for himself while Yoongi and his mom had been forced to live in squalor.

So, Yoongi being the practical soul he was, decided that instead of spending it all at once and buying some huge lavish home and three cars he would instead invest in going to college and getting a great job so that he’d never have to be poor or dependant on anyone else ever again. He got his mom set up in a nicer apartment with a caregiver and saved everything else, packing up to go live life for himself for a change.

One thing he’d forgotten about college is that there were people everyfuckingwhere. A whole new group of people curious about his soulmate, where was his soulmate, what was his marker. He’d long ago determined that either his soulmate was dead or the fates had decided his life wasn’t shit enough so they’d not give him one just for shits and giggles.

So, to shut everyone else up, he decided to show them exactly what he thought of the soulmate system and the belief that you should save yourself for them. He slept around with anyone willing. Didn’t give a fuck if they were taken or not. If they had a soulmate or not. What they were, what they were majoring in, even their fucking names - he didn’t care.

And with the amount of soulmated people he’d had in and under him, it just further proved his point that soulmates were a shit concept.

So he pushed the thought of his nonexistent soulmate from his mind, instead focusing his days on getting the best grades he could to ensure the highest paying job, and his nights on fucking, fighting and drinking to his heart's content.

As usual, Yoongi’s life was about to be flipped upside down. And it was all Jackson Wang and his stupid party’s fault.

While he wasn’t a fan of frat boys themselves, Yoongi had to admit that the bastards threw the best parties. Jackson Wang was one of the few frat guys he could tolerate because the guy was too nice to hate, so when the party was at his place, Yoongi was a frequent visitor. The place was packed tonight, and while he didn’t like the crowd, he certainly enjoyed having a nice selection to choose from for his evening entertainment.

Yoongi leaned against the kitchen counter as he sipped his whiskey. It was a shit brand and a shit year, but was still a rare treat at one of these things that usually served the cheapest beer and fruity crap meant to entice girls into drinking more. Yoongi guessed that his roommate had talked to Jackson about grabbing some to keep Yoongi happy. He appreciated the attempt.

He hadn’t been planning on going to this party since he still had a report to finish, but his roommate Namjoon claimed he needed the backup. He was convinced one of the members of this frat was his soulmate. His soulmate marker was a birthday, but he claimed he felt funny every time he looked at him. Instead of saying anything to the guy, Yoongi deduced that Namjoon’s plan was to stare at him creepily from across the room.

“Yoongi hyung, he’s so pretty. Like, super pretty. Don’t you think he’s pretty?” Yoongi guessed he was supposed to be included in the conversation since his name was used, but it sounded more like his friend was thinking out loud.

“Yeah, he’s not bad. You should go tell him you think he’s pretty. He looks like the type that would appreciate it.”

“I can’t,” Namjoon whispered.

“You can. I believe in you,” Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“No, I mean I really can’t. My feet won’t move.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ. Fine. Stay here.”

“Wait! Yoongi, don’t...”

Yoongi set his cup on the counter and ignored Namjoon’s protests as he strode purposefully into the living room. When he was in front of his target - a pretty man nearly as tall as Namjoon with pillow lips and an eternally amused expression - he sighed wearily.

“Look. You see that guy trying to hide by the kitchen counter? That’s Namjoon, my roommate. He’s super fucking smart, but also kind of stupid. He’s also kinda like a big ass rottweiler that thinks he’s a lap dog. He thinks you’re his soulmate, but he’s the type that would rather pine from afar for the rest of his life rather than face rejection, so can I ask what your marker is? I realize that’s personal and you can tell me to fuck off.”

The man’s face went from confusion to amusement and finally settled on something that he was sure a few romantic poets would fight to the death to describe.

“It’s a birthday. The twelfth of September.”

Yoongi nodded. “Yeah, that’s him. Go get him. Just remember that’s he’s a lot more sensitive than he lets on. And, you know, the best friend speech. You hurt him I’ll...I dunno. Do something.”

“Thanks. I’m Seokjin, by the way. I guess I’ll talk to you guys later,” he smiled and went towards the kitchen, the little sway in his hips telling him Namjoon had no chance against that one. The poor lug was currently trying to straighten up and look cool like he hadn’t just been cowering in the kitchen.

Yoongi snorted and turned away to give them their privacy, looking around the room for someplace to lounge. Before he could leave, one of the girls in the group that Seokjin had been talking with tapped his arm.

“That was really cool of you. Jin’s always talking about meeting his soulmate, so I’m sure he’s over the moon right now.”

Yoongi faced the speaker and his breath hitched. He’d seen cuter girls, sure, but...there was...something about this one. He didn’t know what this strange feeling in the pit of his stomach was. Maybe the shitty whiskey was finally getting to him.

She was looking up at him expectantly and he finally remembered that she’d said something.

“You’re fucking pretty.”

What the fuck? He’d meant to say thanks and then maybe try to sweet-talk his way into her pants. Where the fuck had that come from?

Even her blushing face was cute. He wanted to make a run for it, but at the same time he kinda just wanted to keep looking at her.

“I wish you were my soulmate.”

Her squeak of alarm, followed by her hand slapping against her mouth as she stared at him with alarmed eyes led him to a mind-fuck of a conclusion.

“Well, I think you got your wish,” he mumbled.

Her hand dropped and even her stunning smile wasn’t enough to quell the growing panic Yoongi felt. She was pretty, and looked nice, and was his soulmate.

He had a fucking soulmate.

And thus began what would be the first of the many, many times Yoongi would hurt the person he was supposed to protect the most as he turned tail and ran.

Yoongi had spent a lot of time in his youth wondering what his soulmate quirk could be. He’d always thought that the ones that could hear each other's music could be cool, or even the ones that could speak telepathically. His friend Taehyung and his soulmate Jimin could write to each other on their skin. Even that could have been neat.

Yoongi’s super amazing totally not problematic quirk was that he couldn’t fucking lie to his soulmate.

All those years wondering if his soulmate was dead or if he just didn’t have one, when it was just that he needed to meet them for it to work. He wondered if she’d grown up thinking he was dead too. That thought just made the guilt he felt raise even higher. She’d probably been thrilled that he was alive and in front of her for all of two seconds before he dashed her hopes and dreams running off like he had.

But here’s the thing. There are universally known facts about him:

Min Yoongi loves sleep. Min Yoongi likes music. Min Yoongi hates soulmates. Min Yoongi lies.

Sometimes his lies were simply to amuse himself at the expense of his friends. Being sarcastic, making up fake rumors, that kind of thing. No big deal. Sometimes it’s to protect those friends. Telling Taehyung his drawing his great when it looks like Yoongi could do a better job with his toes. Telling Jimin that he could barely notice the giant zit the size of the moon on his forehead. Telling Joon that that girl he’d been hung up on probably got busy, not that Yoongi had warned her to stay the fuck away when she tried to sneak into his bed right after she’d hooked up with Namjoon.

The problem was that most of his lies are about himself. He tells people he’s fine when he wants to jump off the nearest bridge. He tells Joon he remembered to eat and sleep when he’d really been a filthy goblin working on his project for two days straight. He has an hour-long panic attack in the bathroom and tells people he has IBS. He tells his mother she’s not a burden that ruined his childhood. He tells everyone he’s fine being soulmate-less and he didn’t feel lonely.

He lies.

And now the universe is laughing in his face because they’ve presented him with someone he literally can’t lie to. Not to protect himself, not to protect her. There was no way any relationship they tried to have wouldn’t end in disaster.

The very thought of having to bare himself to someone that much was utterly terrifying...and yet he was still more afraid of the look that Kim Seokjin was giving him from Yoongi’s doorway.

Namjoon and Seokjin had hit it off disgustingly well, enough so that ‘Jin’ had practically been living in their dorm room for nearly three weeks. He’d turned out to be a cool guy, and Yoongi imagined he would get along with him fairly well if only he’d stop sending him death glares over the breakfast table.

Except for now Jin’s moved on to glaring at him from his own bedroom door.

“I’ve had enough, Yoongi. Y/N’s my friend and a sweet girl. I’m tired of seeing her sad. Fix it.”

“Jin, this isn’t like you and Namjoon, okay? I never wanted a soulmate,” Yoongi sighs, flopping onto his back and covering his eyes with his arm. He just wanted the guy to get the fuck out and leave him to his miserable existence.

“I don’t really give a fuck,” Jin yelled.

Yoongi lowered his arm and glanced at Jin, impressed. He hadn’t known the other had it in him. He looked a little ridiculous and red-faced, but still, Yoongi had never heard him curse before.

“This isn’t just about you, Yoongi. She’s part of it too, whether you like it or not. She thought she didn’t have a soulmate and then you suddenly appear. Now she has a soulmate, but one that’s apparently rejected her. She’s a mess. Fix it.”

Jin walks towards Yoongi and throws a slip of paper on the bed, staring down at him as haughtily like a rich Korean mother from a drama. Without another word, he leaves and shuts the door as Yoongi picks it up, seeing the number on it. Hers, he assumes.

He sighs and ruffles his hair. He’s not a total asshole. He supposes he should at least meet with her and tell her why they couldn’t work.

He punches in the number and sends a text before he can talk himself out of it.

It took them three days to coordinate their schedules enough to meet (or the both of them had tried to push it forward as much as possible), and now they were finally sitting across from each other in neutral territory. Yoongi had figured meeting for a cup of coffee was probably cliche, but it was a safe choice and was somewhere he felt comfortable. It helped that Taehyung was a barista here and he would probably go along with it if Yoongi needed help escaping.

Yoongi gripped his cup of black coffee hard, gathering the courage to speak to her. Y/N looked tired, and maybe a little like she’d lost weight in her face, like she hadn’t been eating well. The thought that he’d upset her that much added another layer of guilt to the growing pile in his chest with her name on it.

“First of all, I wanted to say sorry for running out on you the other night. That was cowardly of me and kind of a shithead thing to do. So...sorry,” he mumbled, staring at the table.

He looked up again when she sighed.

“Thank you. That hurt me a lot,” she cringed, like that hadn’t been what she’d intended to say, and he supposed it wasn’t. Their soulmate quirk was a difficult one.

He ground his teeth as he fought the scratching in his throat, trying his best to word things in a way that wouldn’t scar her for life.

“Look, I just don’t trust this whole soulmate thing. The idea that your happiness revolves around this single person is bullshit. And...I’m terrified,” he grits out, hating how vulnerable he sounded.

She nods, “Yeah, it’s pretty scary. But, I don’t really think it’s about your happiness revolves around someone. More like, there’s this person that’s meant to help you become the best version of yourself, and maybe you can find your happiness together.”

Yoongi scoffs, stopping himself from saying anything sarcastic with a long sip from his cup. She was still so naive.

She chews her lip and suddenly there’s a look in her eyes that makes his pause and pay attention.

“It’s just...okay, so I thought you were dead most of my life, like I’m sure you thought I was. I thought that all of my future relationships were just going to be me being used as a placeholder until their soulmate comes along. And then maybe I’d find someone else who didn’t have a soulmate and we’d settle for each other. I thought that my chance at finding actual love was gone, and then you...,” she sighs and runs a hand through her hair. “You show up in front of me, being all fucking gorgeous and funny and a great friend - and alive. Sure, we probably have the shittest soulmate quirk and the fact that I’m rambling all this is proof of that, but Yoongi, you’re alive. I’m alive, and we’re soulmates. We have a chance. Can’t you at least give us a chance?”

Some part of him wanted to warn her about what she was getting into. He knew he would hurt her. He knew he would fuck everything up. But the truth was...he wanted to try. Something told him she was worth it. Was that just part of the whole soulmate brainwashing bullshit? He didn’t know, but the thought of leaving her behind today and never looking back felt wrong.

Yoongi sighs wearily as he observes her glassy eyes, knowing that this wouldn’t be the first time he’d make her tear up but unable to stop the words from leaving his mouth.

“Yeah. Let’s take a chance.”

#bts #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #yoongi #yoongi x reader #bts!au #soulmate au #yoongi scenario #yoongi fanfic #solastia #I'm fine #love yourself anniversary collab

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