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unbridgeabledistances · 4 years ago

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a ✨drunk and clingy ian✨ one-shot

okay so we all know that saint patrick’s day is a very arbitrary and somewhat meaningless holiday (at least in the u.s. lol)- but we also know that the gallaghers are incredibly fucking irish, so i am using this as an excuse to write some drunk and clingy gallavich fluff (bc i think we all need it!! or at least i do!!!!)

hope y’all enjoy<3

Mickey and Ian came in the door from their final weed security run of a way-too-chilly and grey March afternoon, kicking the slush off of their lace-up boots in a tired but comfortable silence. Mickey had been fantasizing for a good part of the afternoon about his usual afternoon ritual of collapsing onto the couch with a cold beer in his hand, and taking a long lazy nap while shitty game shows played on the TV in the background— but unfortunately, Debbie had other plans. Or so he realized when he turned the corner and his eyes were met with a forest of green and white streamers blanketing the living room, with Debbie determinedly balancing on a kitchen chair to hang them in the doorway.

Mickey did a double-take, shooting a glance at Ian and then back at the festive room again. What the fuck? He quickly racked his brain— there was no way he’d could’ve forgotten Franny’s birthday, that was in the summer—and he was pretty sure that Liam’s birthday was in the winter sometime; so whose the fuck was it? Too many goddamn Gallaghers to keep track of. Finally, Mickey admitted his own defeat.

“Is it someone’s fuckin’ birthday or something?”

Mickey flashed another gaze to Ian in confusion as he said it, hoping that Ian would silently mouth whatever the occasion was to him, or at the very least raise his eyebrows and goad Mickey enough to jog his memory to remember whatever the fuck today was— but Ian just gave an easygoing grin as he took in the room’s decor and let out a laugh.

“Debbie, isn’t this kind of going overboard?”

Debbie looked over her shoulder from where she was now taping a crudely scribbled picture of a shamrock, most likely drawn by Franny, up onto the wall.

“What? If it’s our last Saint Patrick’s Day in the house, the least we can do is go out with a bang,” she answered nonchalantly, and continued fixating on hanging up Franny’s drawing.

Mickey inadvertently let out a scoff and rolled his eyes. Fucking Gallaghers.

“I’m sorry, fucking Saint Patrick’s Day?”

Ian’s lips formed a playful smile and he elbowed Mickey between the ribs. “Yeah, Mick, Saint Patrick’s Day— also known as the unironically most important day of the Gallagher family calendar year. I can’t believe I forgot it was today, with all the work stuff we had going on.”

At first Mickey couldn’t tell if Ian was actually being serious— but in the same second he decided that it didn’t really matter, since Ian’s eyes were bright and shining and there was this weird giddy grin he was sporting from ear to ear, like he was absolutely fucking delighted that it was Saint Patrick’s Day, instead of just a normal goddamn Wednesday. Fucking softie.

And as endearing as that was, Mickey still couldn’t let him off that easily. “There’s no way I’m celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day. It’s a fake holiday for yuppie rich kids to go bar hopping—I’m not getting involved in any of your Gallagher bullshit.”

Ian’s grin just grew, like he knew exactly what Mickey was doing. “Hey, you married into this family. If anything, this is your own fault.”

Mickey just rolled his eyes, then continued to unlace his boots and throw them by the doorway.

“The fuck do you do anyways, aside from getting trashed?”

Ian put a hand on Mickey’s upper back to steady himself as he pulled his own shoes off. “I think getting trashed pretty much sums up the festivities. Today’s practically a holy day of observance for Frank, and I’m assuming Debbie’s also just gonna use today as an excuse to get drunk on a Wednesday.”

“Hell yeah I am!” Debbie called from where she was putting the chair back in the kitchen.

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “I knew Gallaghers were white trash, but I had no idea you were this bad.”

“Oh, come on. You don’t have any Ukranian white trash holidays or whatever?”

Mickey held back a bitter laugh. Yeah, they had “holidays,” in the form of days when Terry was celebratorily drunk enough to leave them the fuck alone for 24 hours, rare occasions when his looming shadow was out of the house and a festive lightness bled in in its place. They sort of celebrated Christmas, which was mostly just associated with too many painful memories of Terry ripping open the presents before he or his brothers had the chance, and too many painful stings associated with him having one too many drinks as they sat quietly inside the sagging house and pretended to be a big happy family for one night a year.

But never anything as gaudy and deliberate and ridiculous as observing a C-list, Irish-American holiday just for the hell of it, just for fun—which yes, was probably fueled by Frank’s alcoholism more than anything else, but also made something swell in Mickey’s insides that he didn’t quite know how to place.

And Mickey didn’t know how to let out that entire internal monologue to Ian while Debbie was standing within earshot. “Nah, man. Milkoviches don’t really do… holidays.”

Ian snaked a hand around Mickey’s back, giving his shoulder a squeeze, a grounding touch. He gets it.

“Well, get ready to have your mind blown, Mr. Gallavich, because we’re about to celebrate this hallowed occasion Gallagher style.”

Mickey rolled his eyes again, but let himself lean into Ian’s touch, lean his weight ever-so-slightly against Ian’s chest that was pressed behind him by the doorway. And, okay— as stupid as this was, maybe there was something sort of warm and solid about tradition, about hand-scribbled shamrocks and streamers on the wall, about having days to celebrate just because you wanted to, just because you could…

Just then Franny came hurdling into the room, wearing a baggy green t-shirt and a face-painted shamrock adorning her cheek.

Ian’s face lit up when she stopped in front of them. “Hey Franny! Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!”

Franny held out two bottles of beer to Ian and Mickey from where she had been hiding them behind her back.

“Mommy said I should give these to you when you came home!”

Mickey smirked, carefully taking the bottles from Franny’s outstretched hands. “Thanks, kiddo.”

And if all celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day took was knocking down a few beers on a weekday afternoon—well, Mickey wasn’t going to complain about that.

Of course, hours later Mickey realized how severely he’d underestimated Debbie’s enthusiasm— after lounging around the house waiting for the stream of Gallaghers to trickle in from their various daily activities, Debbie had rounded everyone up and they migrated to the Alibi as the sun was setting, where they’d met up with Kev and V and Lip and Tami, who (thank fucking god) looked as vaguely confused and fully apathetic about this whole “Saint Patrick’s Day” situation as Mickey did.

Now it was late, and Mickey was leaning against the bartop of the Alibi sipping a thick, foamy glass of Guinness, which was as close to embracing whatever-the-fuck Irish heritage his husband had as he was possibly going to get.

All of the Gallaghers were here, swirling around the room—Debbie had put on some sort of peppy music as Kev poured everyone drinks, and a couple of other Southside neighbors had heard the bass thrumming and joined the ruckus. The room wasn’t too crowded, but it was pleasantly full of bodies and chatter— Kev had bought bunches of shiny, tacky green mardi gras beads for everyone to wear, and the air in the room was festive and bordering on sloppy in a way that felt very different from how Mickey had envisioned this evening would go.

Mickey was pacing himself, because it was a Wednesday for fuck’s sake— but his husband was an entirely different story. Between the beers at home and the various drinks Debbie had been siphoning into his hands all night, Ian was teetering on the drunkest Mickey had seen him in years—which partially made the tiniest spark of trepidation start to creep into Mickey’s bloodstream, a spark that he immediately extinguished. It was one night, the first in a long time— Ian deserved to have some fun.

And he definitely, definitely was having fun— casually dancing with Debbie and Sandy and whoever else would humor him, grinning with red-hot cheeks and bright eyes— from across the room Mickey could tell how warm his skin would be if he pressed a hand against it, how flushed. Mickey wasn’t really in the mood for dancing, or whatever the fuck stumbling around and chatting and making friends Drunk Ian was up to for the evening, and he was perfectly content to nurse his drink at the bar— which is why it surprised him when Ian pulled himself out of the crowd, slightly stumbling over his own feet, and made the way across the room to where Mickey was leaning at the bar, immediately boxing him in and putting his hands square on Mickey’s waist. Mickey almost imperceptibly let in a sharp breath.

Ian looked down at him, all smiles and shiny eyes— when he spoke the scent of sweet, hot liquor danced on Mickey’s face and all he wanted was to be closer, to breathe it in.

“Are you having fun?” Ian’s right hand traced up Mickey’s side, then back down to its hold on his hipbone.

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “You and your leprechaun family don’t mess around, Gallagher.”

Ian smiled a lazy, tipsy smile, and pecked Mickey’s cheek before Mickey could be embarrassed about it.

��D’you wanna dance with me?”

Ian’s hands slid off of his hips and entangled with Mickey’s hands that had been hanging limply at his sides, walking backwards so their fingers were laced together an arm’s distance apart.

Mickey shrugged noncommittally. “I’ll leave showing the Irish pride to you and the rest of the drunken Gallaghers.”

Ian registered Mickey’s words and opened his mouth to reply, just as Debbie pulled Ian over by the arm.

“Stop sulking with Mickey and do more shots with me!”

Jesus Christ. Ian was going to be wrecked when their alarm went off for work in the morning, and Mickey was starting to debate if he was going to need to have a talking-to with Debbie about the appropriate amount of “Saint Patrick’s Day fun” they were allowed to partake in next year— but for now Ian was happy, and he could stomach one night of hardcore festivities.

Mickey stood at the bar for a while, watching Ian and Debbie get progressively more flushed as they bobbed through the crowd— and then, when Debbie had found some other victim in their mid-twenties to get even more shitfaced with, Ian made his way across the room to Mickey again, plopping onto the barstool beside him and heaving his bodyweight onto Mickey’s left side, burying his face in the crook of Mickey’s neck. Mickey wrapped a tentative arm around Ian’s waist, trying to hold him up from slouching off of the barstool.

“M’tired.” Mickey could feel Ian’s hot breath dancing on his collarbone as he slurred out the words, and felt Ian’s eyelids flutter shut against the side of his neck.

Ian was always giving Mickey measured casual touches, wherever they were—but it was so exceedingly rare that Ian fully let himself go like this, let himself be drunk and happy and just crumple into Mickey, without worrying about holding anyone else up. It felt new, but it felt good— Mickey let the solid weight of his husband’s body leaning against his press him down, rooting him into the Alibi’s sticky floors, feeling the clammy skin of Ian’s forehead that was solidly lodged into the side of Mickey’s neck.

He hated to admit it, but in that moment, something in Mickey was also frozen solid— as much as Mickey had grown in the past few years, something about these situations, about PDA or whatever, still made Mickey feel like he was treading water—like he was fighting to stay afloat while everyone’s eyes were on him, and the strong current was only lifted when he and Ian were in the dark safety of their bedroom. If Mickey was drunk at a bar and sloppily leaning onto Ian, there was no doubt in Mickey’s mind that Ian would hold him, would gingerly touch him and caress him and do more to him than just prop him up— but something in Mickey still hesitated and flashed with warning signs in a crowded room full of people.

But Ian was still breathing hot on Mickey’s neck— so Mickey thought about what Ian would do, if it was Mickey who was tipsy and slumped on his shoulder. He tentatively raised his arm from where it was lying limply by his side, and started to run soothing circles onto Ian’s t-shirt, just above his hipbone where Mickey’s hand was holding Ian up by his waist.

Ian hummed in acknowledgement of the touch— and then he pressed a tender kiss to the crook of Mickey’s neck, where his face was buried. Fuck. Mickey just pulled him in closer, gently tugging Ian’s torso in by his belt loop to hold him steady.

Ian hummed again, then started to press kisses up and down Mickey’s neck. “You smell good.”

Mickey’s heart started to beat a little quicker, his blood running hotter than usual—and Ian couldn’t fucking do this now, while the rest of his family was milling around and dancing and wearing fucking mardi gras beads while flaunting their Gallagher pride.

Ian lifted his forehead off of Mickey’s shoulder, and gently bit at the underside of Mickey’s jaw—and Mickey thought he was going to combust right there, on the spot, in a room full of Gallaghers pressed against the bartop at the Alibi by his very drunk husband.

And in an act of excruciatingly inconvenient timing, Lip sidled up to the bar and sat on the barstool on Mickey’s other side, nursing what Mickey assumed (and hoped) was a diet Coke in a beer glass.

“Hey there, Mick. And, uh, Ian.”

Ian looked up from where he was very engrossed in continuing to nuzzle the opposite side of Mickey’s neck, and glared at Lip from across Mickey’s chest.

“Go away, Lip.” Ian collapsed his head back onto Mickey’s shoulder and closed his eyes again, wrapping his arms around Mickey’s neck like a fucking boa constrictor. Mickey snaked an arm up around Ian’s back, holding him steady on the wobbly barstool.

Lip held back a laugh as he sipped his drink, then took a drag of the cigarette he was holding. “Seems like Ian’s done enough drinking to make our ancestors proud.”

Mickey took a sip of his own beer with his free hand. “Debbie made sure of that.”

Lip raised his eyebrows. “Damn. Guess we’d better keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t also have the Frank gene.”

Mickey grunted in acknowledgement, then took another sip of his beer, mostly because he didn’t know what else to say. Ian’s head shifted slightly on his shoulder— and Mickey realized he probably needed to haul Ian home ASAP, before he was even more sleepy and incoherent and unable to lug down the street.

Lip noticed Ian’s movement on Mickey’s shoulder and smirked. “I’ve gotta say, I’ve never seen Ian being this clingy before. Even with other guys—no offense, Mick— he usually stayed pretty contained. And you guys aren’t usually too into the PDA department.”

Mickey shrugged, trying not to jostle the heavy weight of where Ian’s head was hanging. Lip was right—he and Ian never really were all over each other, especially not like this, outside of the context of their room, when they were very much always all over each other.

Lip kept studying them, and the corner of his mouth eventually ticked upward. “It’s good. He’s definitely not this… comfortable with anyone else. Including me, which is definitely saying something.”

It felt weird, to get something like what felt like Lip’s full blessing at a raunchy Gallagher party months after he and Ian had gotten married—but that was also exactly what it felt like was happening.

Lip’s eyes suddenly darted across the room, to where Tami was holding up his coat and gesturing to the door. Lip rose from the barstool, stubbed out his cigarette, and put out a hand to clap Mickey on the shoulder as a goodbye.

“Catch up with you later, Mick.�� Lip reached out and jokingly tousled Ian’s hair. “Make sure this one doesn’t hate himself too much tomorrow morning.”

Mickey smirked. Ian was practically asleep and drooling on his shoulder, his breathing turned steady—Mickey reached a hand up to card through his hair, then gently shrugged his shoulder to get Ian’s head to rise from where it was jammed on his neck.

Ian raised his head, his eyes bleary and confused at first, then softening around the edges when he met Mickey’s gaze.

“Alright, let’s get you home, carrottop.”

#did i read this before posting it???? nope #this is so silly but was also living RENT FREE in my brain #also this is temporally separated from the last ep lol bc i do not have it in me to write anything heavy this week #drunk happy husbands only !!!!#🙅🏻‍♂️‼️#gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #ian and mickey #ixm #gallavich fanfiction

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drwcn · 4 years ago

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maybe after today’s acls training i can finally write that chengqing ER oneshot.

— “Patient male, mid-twenties, motor vehicle collision, eta 3 mins”

— “What no vitals? No GCS? ETA 3 mins? Who’s on the paramedic team?!”

— “No one….Dr. Lu hit someone with her car on her way out of the hospital.”

【A Midnight Conversation in Your Local ER】- Complete

[1]

The night hunt had gone to shits.

That much was undeniable.

Jiang Cheng heard the panicked shout of his disciples just as he saw the array that he had stepped on.

Fuck.

The ghost of an once mediocre demonic cultivator wanna-be was going to bring Jiang Cheng, Jiang Wanyin - the Sandu Shengshou - to meet his maker. The irony of the situation would be laughable, if he wasn’t so irrevocably screwed.

That was his last thought before his entire body was engulfed by a blinding light and the world he knew disappeared.

The ground beneath his feet gave away, weightlessness paralyzing his body though he did not fall. He felt…launched, his body warping and squeezing and stretching, the air sucked from his lungs into the endless black vacuum.

But just like that it was over. Jiang Cheng barely had time to make peace with his death before his feet touch solid earth again.

Or at least….he thought it was earth, this black, tarry hard thing striped with yellow and white. He stared at it dumbly, breathless and disoriented, barely able to react when a loud blare assaulted his senses and his world went blindly bright yet again.

This time there was pain.

Jiang Cheng clutched Sandu, ready to fight, but then his head hit the ground and everything went dark. When he woke up again, an indeterminate amount of time later, he was in a small tube and had a distinct feeling he was not wearing pants, socks or shoes.

How the fuck do you ‘scan’ a cat???

[2]

Method actor. The nurse, from the other side of the curtain, mouthed silently.

“Sir, can you tell me your name.”

“Jiang Cheng, Jiang Wangyin.”

The resident paused, awkwardly contemplating how to continue. “Uh…..which is it? Jiang Cheng or Jiang Wanyin?”

“Jiang Cheng, zi Wanyin.”

“Traditional parents?” The resident tried to crack a joke, but it fell flat. The strange man stared up at him with a blank look in his eyes and a frown that was rapidly deteriorating into a scowl. The resident cleared his throat and cast his eyes back onto his clipboard. “Uh, ahem, just the name on your ID please.”

“My what?"

"Your personal ID….like a driver’s license?”

“Cultivators of the gentry fly on swords or ride horses. We do not rely on carriage valets.”

“Eh… right. Uhm, can you tell me how old you are and what year it is.”

“I’m 39, and the year is jiachen.”

Lu Qi frowned from where she stood by the door, arms crossed, watching her resident and medical student work. 39? He looks like a college student. But he also thinks he can fly, so I guess age is the least of our worries.

“Jiachen.…?”

The M3 fished his phone out from his scrub pocket pocket and typed it in. “Sounds like the ganji system, like an old timey way to record year used in the past.” He whispers clandestinely to the resident.

“….Right. And uh, do you where you are?”

The man scowled at him. “Am I supposed to?”

The resident scribbled something on the chart, and then looked up with a plastered awkward smile. “Well, thank you Mr. Jiang for your patience. Wang Fei here is the medical student on our team. He’s going to stay and ask you a couple more questions if you don’t mind. Afterwards we’ll confer with our attending and the team will be back to see you shortly.”

As he turned away, the R3 grimaced and shared a look with Lu Qi, who was the youngest attending physician in their ER, but was not technically working at the moment and so was not on the case. And technically, as the perpetrator who hit Jiang Cheng with her car, she had a severe conflict of interest.

At least this Jiang Cheng dude didn’t seem keen on pressing personal charges against her for MVA or suing the hospital in general… but that being said…

Yeah, they’re going to need a psych consult.

Unless he’s on acid.

Well… okay, psych consult either way.

[3]

"It’s okay, you can relax.” Jiang Cheng said, waving dismissively at the woman standing by his bedside. “I’m not going to take you to the magistrate for hitting me with your carriage - car. You didn’t mean to, and I just came out of nowhere.”

“....Thank you.”

“You’re not Wen Qing. I know that now. Your name is Lu Qi. You can call off those psychia - psych - psychics - head healers - or whatever, I’m not crazy. It’s not my fault, you just… look so much like someone I used to know."

"Wen Qing.” Lu Qi echoed.

“Yeah. Wen Qing. She was a healer - a doctor - like you, but different.”

“I see. What happened to her?"

"She died. Almost twenty years ago."

"I'm sorry... that's awful.” Lu Qi’s response rolled off her tongue so well, because she had said those word a thousand times during her residency. So much so that it no longer had much meaning to her. Tonight however, she meant what she said. “Were you two close?"

"No, well…yes, maybe. No we weren’t exactly friends if that’s what you’re asking. She...operated on me. Without my consent or knowledge. Took my brother’s golden core and put it in me and then lied with my brother to my face about it. So no we weren’t “close”, but Wen Qing saved my life - well the purpose of it anyway. Saved me from a life of ordinariness.”

Lu Qi did allow herself to dwell too much on what the fuck a “golden core” was, because her gut response was almost instantaneous. “That’s shitty of her.”

She clamped down on her tongue.

God, why did I have to say that? To his face?! He was obviously in love with this Wen Qing person and they were encroaching on some dangerous emotional territories, but Lu Qi swallowed down her caution and plowed on nevertheless. There were things she felt she had to say, and since she’d already hit him with her car, how much worse could this shit get? “What I mean is she shouldn’t have. Not without telling you. Besides...there’s nothing wrong with ordinary.”

Jiang Cheng chuckled bitterly. “Maybe you’re right. Still...she didn’t deserve to die. What her clan did was not her fault.”

Now that threw Lu Qi off. Did this guy...kill her?

Lu Qi half wondered if she stumbled upon a Yakuza-esque member whose psyche finally snapped after years of murder and violence. And yet, he seemed perfectly coherent, no flight of ideas, no tangential thought, no hallucations. Even his delusions seemed...logical.

I must be the one losing, damnit.

Jiang Cheng scratched a little at his chest, as if palpating for the “golden core” that he spoke of. "She saved my life, but when she needed help, I couldn't save her. But, if I were to go back… I can't say I'll choose differently. My clan needed me, my clan who was almost cleansed by hers. No, no I wouldn’t choose differently. I don’t regret my choices, but I am sorry. Sorry to her, sorry to my brother. I'll always be sorry that she died, and that I failed her when she needed me."

Jiang Cheng had no idea why he was telling this stranger any of this, but maybe after twenty years, he was finally ready to address this guilt that he lived with. I mean who else was he supposed to tell? Jin Ling? It was nice, to have that face as an audience, receiving his words of confession.

"She would forgive you."

Lu Qi had no idea why she was offering absolution as if she had authority in this matter, but when she said it, the conviction she felt was so real, it was almost as though some external force was acting through her.

Which was ridiculous of course, but...

"How do you know? You're not her." Jiang Cheng shook his head. “I wouldn’t forgive me.”

"No, but you said she was a physician. So she should know, more than most, that sometimes there is no choosing who gets to live or die."

Jiang Cheng fell quiet at that, and his gaze grew distant. Lu Qi thought perhaps he was no longer seeing her as she was in front of him - white coat, scrubs, stethoscope - but someone entirely different. The tension he held in his shoulders slowly eased, and he sighed. In the silence that stretched between them, Lu Qi hoped that this strange man with his strange past could find a sliver of peace.

[4]

— Did you love her?

— I thought so, foolishly, but maybe I didn’t. Even if I did, it was not well enough.

— Do you love her still?

— No... I don’t know. It’s been too long...but sometimes, late at night when Lotus Pier is quiet, I think I do.

...

— Are you ashamed of it?

...

— No. No I’m not.

[5]

The patient known as Jiang Cheng left AMA, that is, against medical advice. It was the term they used sometimes for people who just up and leave without informing the team.

Lu Qi had gone out to check on his labs, which came back with bonker numbers (I mean really, a hemoglobin of 455, sodium of 200, and a HCO3 of like...3?), but Jiang Cheng was gone from Bay 6 when she returned. The nurse made the overhead page, a code yellow was called, but four hours later, Lu Qi was ready to admit that she was never going to see this Jiang Cheng ever again.

Somehow, she was okay with that. She had said what needed to be said.

Her chief had given her a call on her cell and told her to go home and sleep. The guy didn’t look like he was gonna press charges, let’s count our blessings and move on. But the night had just been too damn strange that Lu Qi was all wired up from it and couldn’t possibly fall asleep. She had handover at 10 anyway. There was a change of clothes and toiletries in her bag. She could always take a shower in the anesthesia staff’s on call room and sleep until then.

Dr. Sun was the anesthesia staff on-call tonight and was currently stuck in trauma OR. They were buddies since medschool; she’d understand.

Sighing, Lu Qi took a seat on the bench across from the bougie cafe in the lobby of the hospital. At this hour, it was the only one still open in the entire facility. The drinks they sold cost an arm and a leg, but Lu Qi needed the pick-me-up after the night she had.

As she nursed the last bit of her matcha latte, two bickering voices pulled her attention to the front entrance.

“Aiyo, A-Liang I already said I’m fine! I don’t need to be here!”

“Fuck out of here with that bullshit, Chen Zhaoxi. You fell off the fucking roof! If Wu Kun hadn’t called me, you’d have gone on -”

It was him! Lu Qi shot up. It was Jiang Cheng!

But no...no it wasn’t him. The well-dressed man dragging the second man (dressed in red pajamas) into the hospital was not Jiang Cheng. He had the same face - chiselled, handsome, scowling - but it wasn’t him. For one, his hair was trimmed short and neat, unlike Jiang Cheng who looked like he walked straight out of a BL xianxia tv drama. Secondly, his face was softer, eyes younger, and he couldn’t have been older than Lu Qi herself in her early thirties.

“I was just trying to get to the litter of kittens trapped -”

“Yes, yes, and it was very heroic and I’m sure it would’ve made Wu Kun very horny, and you morons probably would’ve fucked once he got home had you not made a valiant attempt at breaking your neck -”

“Excuse me,” the security guard manning the information desk chastised sharply. “It’s 4am. This is a hospital! Lower your voices, sirs.”

“Sorry.” The men apologized sheepishly.

Then, A-Liang, Jiang Cheng’s doubleganger asked, “Could you please direct us to the ER? This is my brother, he fell off a roof.”

Lu Bin had no idea what possessed her to interject. “I can take you there.”

All eyes fell on her. She walked towards them, heart pounding.

This can’t be happening, this kind of thing just can’t happen...

A-Liang’s face broke into a grateful smile. “Thank you, Miss -” Then his gaze trailed to her badge, and he corrected himself, “Dr. Lu. I’m Shen Liang. This is my brother Chen Zhaoxi. I think he fractured...well multiple things, please help him.”

“Of course, come with me. Let’s get him a wheelchair. If he fractured is leg, he probably shouldn’t be walking.”

“I didn’t fracture -”

“You, you shut up.” Shen Liang rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. He can lose three out of four limbs and say ‘ t’s but a flesh wound’.”

Lu Qi couldn’t help but chuckle as she put an arm under the complaining Chen Zhaoxi and helped him towards the wheelchair.

Shen Liang’s smile widened.

[Extra]

“Holy shit, took you long enough!”

When Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui finally dragged Jiang Cheng to their portal site, Jiang Cheng realized that the transportation talisman had created a channel through realities between what looked like two metal garbage dumpsters in a back alley behind a food establishment marked by giant yellow bunny ears.

Standing guard there, Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen were each munching on a strange layered bread and holding tall drinks contained in...what was it called again? Right. Styrofoam.

“What is that?” Jin Ling wrinkled is nose at it. Brat.

“It’s a Big Mac.” Replied Lan Jingyi as if Jin Ling was stupid. “And this is a milk shake.”

Jin Ling scowled. “I said the bag of gold I gave you was for emergencies.”

“Yeah but we were hungry.” Ouyang Zizhen defended. He neglected to tell them that the cashier had refused to accept the gold and instead asked for “cash” or “card”, neither of which they had, so Zizhen used a liiiiil confounding talisman he learned from Wei Wuxian. They did leave more than enough gold though...and that ought to cover the restaurant’s cost for their “burger”lary . Reaching into the brown paper bag he held under one arm, Zizhen pulled out a little box that opened to show pieces of... something. “These are chicken nuggets. They’re delicious! Try one! They’re really good with this sauce....hold on...”

Lan Sizhui sighed. “We don’t have time for this. The portal will close soon. Let’s get Jiang-zongzhu home and we can sample these exotic food later.”

The boys agreed.

Jiang Cheng shook his head and huffed.

#cql #the untamed #chengqing #wen qing #jiang cheng #a midnight conversation in your local er #cql ficlet #corie fics

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antiherocorner · 3 years ago

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Huh... Alright, I'm doing... I think I'm doing it...

This is my very first fanfic ever... I'm still learning... This is a part 1 thing... I'm currently in the middle of a university exam period, so I couldn't finish the whole story yet, but I will as soon as I can, but I don't want to wait anymore... My English is okay-ish... It's not my native language, so there maybe some grammatical mistakes, I hope it's still readable... I tried my best... Just bear with me, I'll try to learn and improve... I'm very nervous...

Facts about the story: there is no age mentioning, Reader is around 25-26, I made Daniel younger in my head, 34-36 (single, no wife, no kids, let's respect the real Brühl family), Reader is female, I am Hungarian as well (possible Hungarian language in the future), I'm studying Russian (possible Russian language in the future), and I just started learning German, I used translater (sorry if I messed it up but, I really tried, please tell me if it's horrible), and one more thing... I have never met Daniel, nor I went to Berlin (yet, I really want to, and planning)... All of this are imagination, dreaming, and a little searching...

Warnings: none?... i think?... Apart from the horrible language uses and horrible jokes... Maybe swearing.

(Bad) Summary: a Hungarian girl goes to Berlin with a Russian friend of hers, as tourists. They always wanted to visit the city (not because Reader has a crush on the one and only Daniel Brühl, and wants to go to his tapas bar...of course). When the Reader goes back alone to the bar, Daniel is there too... The big meeting, adventures, fun, love, shitty romcom vibes ahead... (i hope the story is better than the summary...)

And now, after this awkward rambling, I present to you:

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

With Love from Berlin

Part 1

You couldn’t believe it. Finally, after months of preparation, you and your best friend were finally here, in the heart of Germany, Berlin. It was very different from what you were used to. Coming from a small city from Hungary, this was way bigger than your imagination. All kinds of people from different cultures merged into one. Museums, cafes, bars, restaurants, you didn’t even know where to begin. You took a deep breath in your hotel room. Your friend insisted on getting different rooms, in case she or you find someone to have a good time, if you know what I mean. Well, rather your friend, than you. You wanted to come here after many years, and you were finally here, so you want to experience as much of this city as you possibly could, you’re not gonna waste your time on a random (or more, glancing at your friend) man.

You arrived at the hotel around 1.00pm, so you decided to go get some lunch somewhere close. You were a little bit tired of the long hours on the train. Just around a corner from where you were staying there was a tapas bar. Bar Raval. Your friend wasn’t really into movies that much, or actors in particular, but you knew that place, although you have never been there. You didn’t think about yourself as a “fangirl”, but you really admired the work of Daniel Brühl. You knew there was little to no chance that you could get even a tiny glance of him, but in over all: you would be happy just to say that you were in his bar. Your friend liked Spanish cuisine, so it didn’t take much to convince her to eat there.

A Hungarian and a Russian woman walked into a Spanish restaurant in Germany, Berlin. Sounded comical. The place looked very friendly and funky. There were some people, not really a crowd. You decided to sit in the corner, with your back to the wall, so you can observe your surroundings. Your friend sits down opposite you. A waiter comes up to you:

- Willkommen! Was möchten Sie gerne? - he asked, looking between the two of you.

- Oh, sorry, we don’t really speak German. - you said with quite a thick Hungarian accent, because you got nervous due the potential language barrier.

- I see, It’s okay. We usually have all kinds of tourist here, so you’re good. What can I get for you two? - he asked with a welcoming smile.

You weren’t sure what you wanted to eat, you weren’t familiar with Spanish food at all, so you just trusted your friend to order something. She ordered something with pasta, and another thing with pasta. You had no idea what she just said. And some juice. She smiled at the waiter who scribbled down your order, and of he went. You looked around while you were waiting.

- It’s nice isn’t it?

- Yeah, it is. Quite bohemian. I would have guessed you would want to go to a traditional German restaurant. Why are we here? - smiled your friend knowingly.

- Well… You know…

- Is this the place of your man?

- What?! Shut up… - blushing - I just like his movies, that’s all… Anyway, I just liked the pictures of this place…

- ...and him…

- ...AND I wanted to check it out myself, ok?

- Ok-Ok...

You smiled at each other. You were best friends for years now, you could communicate without much of words. The waiter arrived with your plates. The food was good. In fact, more than good. In general, you prefer other cuisines, but you really liked this Spanish place. In Berlin. Odd, in the best way. After the lunch you went back to the hotel. Your friend wanted to go to a small club in the evening, so you decided to just chill throughout the afternoon.

The traveling took the better of you, as you didn’t just not feel fresh after your nap, but you actually felt like shit. Your friend on the other hand really wanted to get going. So you assured her and yourself that it’s fine if you didn’t go to a club. She was a strong woman, and the club which she picked was just a couple of blocks away, so she decided, after she made sure that it is truly okay, to leave you behind in your room. You have never been a party-animal anyway, and you really just wanted to plan for tomorrow. There were so many things you wanted to watch in the city. After a few hours of planning and searching, you eventually fall asleep on the couch.

In the morning, luckily, you felt much better, more of yourself than in the previous afternoon. You took a shower, get dressed (purple converse, dark skinny jeans, blue tank-top and a blue/black checked shirt...nothing can go wrong dressing like this, you thought), grabbed your camo, ex-military little gym bag, locked your room’s door, and went to knock on your friend’s door. It took a few minutes, some groans, and other small noises, when she finally flung the door open. The sight was hideous.

- The hell happened to you? - you really tried not to laugh.

- Laugh, as you like… I had a good time. Drank more vodka that I could handle though…

- Are you alone or…?

- I am… Calm down, I didn’t get lied… Although I tried… But I didn’t!!! - she said quickly after she saw the frown on your face. - But I feel very shitty… My hangover is killing me, I didn’t give out anything yet… But I might throw up at any minute now…

- How can I help you? Stay with you? Bring you something from that little shop we saw yesterday?

- Some water would be nice… But I don’t want you to see me like this… And I will be fine, i’m just gonna rest today… You can go on on your sightseeing trip.

- Are you sure? I’m gladly staying with you…

- No, no! You wanted to come so badly, I don’t want to take a day away from you. I will be alright.

- You promise?

- I do. Please, just go. - she smiled at you.

- Alright. I’ll go grab you some water, and… I don’t know, go for a walk or something. Get breakfast.

- For the mentioning of food, your friend’s face went green and particularly jumped into her bathroom.

- I’m coming back in a minute or two! - you shouted after her, than closed her hotel room’s door.

You went down to get some water, some bread and some crackers which would be easy on her stomach, yet she still would be able to eat something throughout the day. You knocked on her door, which opened just slightly, an arm came out to take the bag from your hand, a small, weak “Спасибо” and just like that the door was closed again. You giggled to her door before you headed down to the street.

You honestly didn’t really want to explore many things without her, so you tried to keep your excitement low. You decided to go back to that bar where you ate your lunch yesterday. You liked it a lot, and it wasn’t a new place to discover, which meant that your friend wasn’t missing out on anything. You went to the bar. It was still early morning, not many people were there. A few old people, some of them are couples. The younger generation (yours) was probably still sleeping. Besides, the place was more like a lunch/dinner kind of place anyway. The waiter looked up and recognised you.

- Good morning! Alone this time?

- Good morning to you too! Yes, my friend had a wild party last night, and she is standing at the gates of Hell right now.

- That sounds bad. - he laughed.

- It is, she looked scary… - that made him chuckle.

- So what can i do for you today?

- I would like just a cappuccino, please.

- Alright, just sit down, I’m on it.

- Thank you!

You sat down at the exact place where you did yesterday, next to the window, with your back to the wall. You put down your bag, and looked around. With less people, the place looked cozier. You really did like it a lot. Eventually, your cappucino arrived. You thanked it, and tasted it. It was delicious. You were one of those people who liked to read next to a fresh coffee, and you always had a book around you. You took it out from your handy-dandy bag and started reading it, holding it a little up in your hands, leaned back on your chair. You were reading one of your favourite books (Pushkin - Anyegin), while sipping a good morning cappuccino, in a nice place. You just relaxed to the small sounds of the bar and sounds of the city, which infiltrated through the door and windows.

- Eine interessante Wahl von Buch am Morgen. Interessanter als eine Zeitung, das ist sicher...

No. Just...no. You were hallucinating. You felt like everything was frozen around you. From out of 2.8 millions of people (roughly), you would recognize this voice. His voice. You physically could not look up.

- Omm.. I’m sorry, I didn’t understand what you just said… - you said with the weakest voice and in the thickest accent ever, in your whole damn life. You hoped that if you make this man say another thing you fall back to reality.

- Oh, my bad - he giggled - I just said that it is an interesting choice of read in the morning, it sure is more interesting than a newspaper.

Shit, this was the reality.

You dared to look up, and your eyes met the most chocolaty eyes ever on this whole planet, but at least in the whole of Berlin. The owner of those eyes was leaning on the chair opposite you.

- Hello. I’m the owner of this Bar, I’m Daniel. - he offered his hand to you.

- Hi, I kno...i mean I’m (Y/N), I’m the costumer…? - you finished with a questioning voice and all you wanted was for the ground to open, swallow you, and with that wipe you out of this universe. You shook his hand, without looking at him directly. His hands were warm and secure. After he released you, you closed your eyes, already feeling the burning sensation in your face. You heard a deep chuckle.

- Yeah, I guessed that. You’re not from Germany and you aren't British either, aren’t you?

You opened your (Y/E/C) eyes only to meet his curious ones.

- No, I’m not. I’m just a tourist here, I’m from Hungary.

- Oh, I’ve been there. It’s a lovely country. Would you mind if I sit down? - gesturing to the empty chair opposite from you.

- Yes… I mean no… - you took a deep breath - If you would like to you can sit with me. - This is just going great...

You earned another deep chuckle from the man in front of you, while he sat down.

- So… What are you doing here alone, in Berlin?

- I’m not alone.

- Oh… Anniversary? - for a moment you thought you saw something in his eyes. Sadness?

- Not that either. I don’t have anyone to celebrate such things. I came here with my friend, but she got wasted last night, and probably at the moment she is agonizing in her bathroom above the toilet.

- Hm… that’s not nice. - curiosity was coming back to his face.

The two of you stayed in silence. It wasn’t really uncomfortable, you were just terribly shy, and couldn’t stop blushing. You even tried to hide some of your face by leaning on one of your palms, and sipping your coffee.

This is aweful. Daniel f*ing Brühl is sitting opposite me, and I can’t even look at him. He must be thinking I’m one of those fangirls who just can’t keep it together before their idols. Which is true, but he shouldn’t have to know that…

But he wasn’t thinking that. Quite the opposite actually. You were so out of place in his bar, he had to approach you. There was something in you which made him intrigued. While you were trying to hide, which he found a little bit cute and entertaining, he tried to study you as well. There was something in you. He felt like he wanted to know your story.

- So what’s the plan for today?

...........

#daniel bruhl #daniel bruhl x reader #daniel brühl #fanfic #actor x reader #actor x y/n #daniel bruhl x you #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo

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hyunsracha · 5 years ago

Text

now or never — bang chan

word count: 4.5k

summary: liquid courage lets you jump at your last chance to tell him how you feel.

one.

Han Jisung might just be your least favorite person on the planet. You think this when he leans over your shoulder, your thumbs paused above your phone’s keyboard. Your phone was open to Instagram as you struggled to think of a caption for this particular post. It wasn’t anything special, just a picture of you and Chan at the annual fair over the weekend. The two of you had gone together every year since you were little kids. It was one of your favorite traditions.

“I have an idea.” Jisung took the phone from your hands, his fingers quickly getting to work as you yelled protests at him, “Relax! It’s nothing bad.”

Oh, but it was.

“We look like a couple here?! Jisung, are you serious?” You cried out, yanking the phone back from him and editing the post before anyone (hopefully) saw. The boy next to you cackled.

“It’s not like anyone would be surprised. Everyone already thinks you’re together.” He nonchalantly shoved fries into his mouth as he spoke. Jisung ate like a pig, but you didn’t complain about it anymore. Last time you did that, he got all up in your ear and started chewing with his mouth open. Disgusting.

“Shut up, Han.”

“Yeah, shut up, Han.” You don’t even flinch when Chan and Changbin take their seats across from you. You could practically sense when one of the three boys was going to appear. Changbin said it was because your friendship was so strong, but in reality, they all wore such strong cologne, you’d be an idiot not to sense them.

“I literally did nothing and you’re attacking me.” Jisung whined, kicking Chan’s shin under the table. Chan gasped, kicking him back with more force. They would do this for hours if you didn’t stop them.

“Guys-” You started, but you stopped yourself. Jisung deserved to be kicked.

The four of you were hardly quiet when you were together, so you ate your lunches and talked about your day. Jisung got the chance to tell Chan and Changbin about him spilling folic acid all over his crush in chemistry, which he told you about on the way to your shared history class.

“It was mortifying! He’s never going to want to talk to me again!” He cried, hiding his face behind his hands, “I was even planning on asking him to prom! Now what am I gonna do?”

Suddenly, everyone’s attention was on Jisung.

“Prom?” Changbin yelled, his eyes wide.

“Yes?”

“We were supposed to go to that together, you dick!”

“It’s my senior year! I wanted to shoot my shot!”

“Yeah! Senior year! That’s why we were going together!” Changbin shook his head, false disappointment evident on his face.

“Well, since we’re asking people to prom now,” Chan started, folding his hands on the table. He bit his lip, darting his eyes around the room, “Y/N...do you maybe...wanna go to prom with me?”

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. Your fingers twisted themselves around each other as you pulled your lip between your teeth, willing yourself not to smile like a lovestruck idiot. This was your best friend, asking you to prom as his best friend. You pulled yourself together, heaving a sigh before you replied,

“Yeah, totally. It’s a date.”

“IT’S A DATE? Have I lost my fucking mind?” You fell back onto your bed, staring at your ceiling in disbelief. Jisung cackled from his seat at your desk, obviously very pleased by your choice of words at lunch. He invited himself over to your house, wanting to discuss prom plans with you, but you two were getting nowhere. As soon as you got home, you ran to your room to wallow in your own peril. You remembered how Chan had smiled at you when you accepted his proposal, his eyes managing to sparkle even under the shitty fluorescent lights the cafeteria provided.

“I’ve only been waiting four years for one of you to slip up. I’m glad it was you so we can talk about it. That asshole Chan still hasn’t confessed his undying love for you to me. But I bet he told Changbin. Fucking traitor.” He started to ramble, his eyes drifting across the paintings on the wall, “Hey,” he pointed to one in the corner, “this one is new.”

You nodded, gazing at the painting yourself. You had only hung it up a few days prior. You smiled, remembering the night you painted it. Chris was at your house, taking up all the space on your desk with his laptop, portable keyboard, and hard drive. He was working on a 3RACHA song, like he usually was. You always found those days with Chan so relaxing. The two of you didn’t need words to communicate with each other, you had your art. He would make music and you would paint, and your art would always end up reflecting the other’s. The song he was working on that night, Alchemistry, showed itself in your painting, swirling clouds of grey in a fading sky of purple and black.

“Since we’re not going as a group anymore, I need to find a way to ask Hyunjin to prom.” Jisung sulked, opening up one of his one thousand notebooks. Jisung was a notebook kinda guy. He wrote every little thought down, just in case something could be used in a future song of his. And if he wanted to find something specific? Get ready for notebooks being tossed at your head as he sifts through every single one because he doesn’t label or organize anything.

“Write him a song.” You suggested, gaze still trapped in that painting. Now that you were thinking about it, most of the paintings on that wall had something to do with Chan. It was like he had seeped into every corner of your life, including the darkest and most personal ones.

“That’s your answer for everything I do.”

“Because your songs are good?” Not that you were lying. Your three best friends made up the rap trio 3RACHA. Were you a little bit jealous that they didn’t even ask if you wanted to be part of it? Yes, but you designed their album covers, so you forgive them.

Jisung was silent for a second, pondering your idea. Then he nodded, flipping to an empty page in the neon green notebook. He started scribbling, and you can’t really tell if it’s lyrics or drawings. But you looked away, letting Jisung do his thing. Pulling yourself up from the bed, you made your way to your closet, flinging the doors open with a huff. You scanned the rows of clothing before deciding that you definitely needed to go prom shopping.

“I need something new, something that screams-”

“Please date me?”

You scoffed, “Han Jisung, you’re going to be the death of me.”

two.

Your room was an absolute disaster. Clothes were strewn everywhere, makeup and hair products settling on every surface. You hardly noticed the mess, you were so...excited? Anxious? You didn’t really know.

It was the big day.

Changbin was laying on your bed, no doubt texting Chan about how dramatic you and Jisung were being. Jisung was three inches away from your mirror, sucking in a breath as he applied a line of dark brown eyeliner. You were on the other side of the room, running your hands through your hair as you decided what to do with it.

“Just leave it how it is, Y/N, who cares that much?”

“I care that much, Changbin!” You huffed, deciding to leave it how it was anyway.

The only reason Chan wasn’t with you guys is because he was now your date. Jisung had banished him and Hyunjin from the room as soon as you started getting ready, claiming that he wanted your looks to be a surprise.

“I’m giving you guys ten minutes before we leave, alright? I’m getting a fucking drink.”

“Your favorite juice is on the bottom shelf.” You called out as Changbin was leaving the room.

“I know where the juice is!” He shut the door firmly, leaving you and Jisung alone.

“Y/N,” he sighed heavily, having just finished his wing, “I think I’m going to piss myself.”

“That’s a rented tux-”

“I didn’t mean it literally! I’m just...really nervous.”

You nodded, moving from your spot to go comfort the boy, “If it’s any consolation, you look super hot. And I’ll make out with you if Hyunjin doesn’t.”

He laughed, and you could feel the nervous energy around him dissipate a little bit.

Once the two of you were ready, Jisung opened your bedroom door, calling out to the boys below. He linked arms with you before walking out the door and down the stairs slowly.

Chan turned around when he heard movement on the stairs, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. His face turned bright pink as he adjusted his tie. He cleared his throat, extending a hand for you to take, “You look...um...really...n-nice, bunny.”

You breathed out a nervous laugh, feeling your stomach churn at Chan’s nickname for you since you were children, “Thank you. You look...nice, too.”

Jisung unhooked your arms and wandered over to Hyunjin, and you could hear them mumbling soft compliments to each other, both of their faces tinged pink.

The car ride to the school seemed to be the most normal feeling part of the night. You all talked to each other, awkwardness temporarily thrown out the window. You laughed at Jisung’s impressions, trying to avoid the weight of Chan’s hand in yours. It felt nice; right, even. His grip was tight, but in a comforting way. Every once in a while, his thumb would gently graze over your skin, causing goosebumps to appear on your arms.

Once you got inside the gym, it all changed again. Now, Chan wasn’t just your best friend. He was your date, and you got all dressed up for each other, and everybody was looking at you two. He sent a charming smile your way, half bowing and extending yet another hand for you, “May I have this dance?”

And it was okay again, for a little while. The two of you danced, all worries about keeping face and feelings out of your mind. Your friends joined you for some of the songs, and you finally got to see Hyunjin dance. For months, Jisung would rave about how amazing he was. And you agreed; he certainly deserved his spot as co-president of the dance team.

An hour or so into the dance, a slightly sweaty Chan pulled you away from the dance floor and over to the refreshments. Confused, you asked, “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing. I just want some punch.”

“And you had to take me away with you. Felix was just about to throw it back!” You whined, feigning disappointment. In reality, you were kinda glad to be out of the dance circle. High school kids really didn’t understand the concept of personal space when it came to these things. And besides, you wouldn’t mind some alone time with Chan.

“Let’s go outside,” You suggested to him, “we’re both sweaty. We could use some air.”

He nodded, taking your hand again. Pushing open the gymnasium doors, the two of you were met with a cool spring breeze. You sighed, letting your eyes shut for just a moment. In that one moment, Chan’s eyes were trained on you, fondness practically seeping from his pores. He took you to his favorite spot on campus, the music hallway. It was his favorite place to study, and the acoustics were dope, just in case he felt like bursting into song. Jisung did that sometimes.

The two of you sat on the cold cement floor, giggling at each other like little kids. You weren’t worried about what your friends inside the gym would think. You were just thinking about Chan. Chan and his dimpled smile and his sparkly eyes and his calloused but still gentle hands and how he was getting closer and why he was getting closer and - oh, his lips tasted like peach. You always liked peaches. So you kissed him back, because he tasted like peach. Not because you’ve been head over heels for him since the 7th grade. Absolutely not. Although, to be fair, 7th grade you would be absolutely geeked at how good of a kisser Chan was. How those calloused hands still managed to hold your face like it was made of porcelain while he sucked on your bottom lip like he would die without it.

He pulled away first, the popping sound of your lips disconnecting making you blush.

“That was - I - I’m sorry-”

“Sorry for what?”

“I just kissed you!”

“I don’t mind.”

“Oh,” He gaped, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, “it’s just that, yanno, I dunno. The prom...energy...got to me...haha.”

You stared at him, running your tongue over your bottom lip, trying to push the feeling of his lips out of your mind. You forced a smile, “Totally! And we...don’t have to mention this to anybody if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah...that would be best...let’s go back to the gym.” He stood and pulled you up with him. How he can stand to still hold your hand after crushing your heart like that, you couldn’t understand. But you let him.

You would always let him.

three.

It only takes two weeks for you to tell someone about the kiss. Granted, you’re drunk. And it’s Jisung. And he’s offended it took so long.

“I said I wouldn’t tell anyone!”

“I’m not just anyone, Y/N! Let’s not forget, I told you about my first kiss with Hyunjin when it happened!” He was practically yelling.

“You guys are dating! Chan and I are not dating!” You cried out, your grip on the plastic cup in your hand tightening. You weren’t really sure what was in the cup. Changbin had brought you one of his concoctions, promising to get you fucked up. And you just graduated high school, you deserved it! Thank whatever higher power that Choi Lia’s parents were on route to Canada right now.

“You guys still aren’t together? That’s so embarrassing.” Jisung hiccuped. He had the lowest alcohol tolerance you had ever seen, and you knew Lee Felix. You smacked his arm, apparently harder than you thought, because he yelped in pain. Or maybe he was just being dramatic. You pouted, staring at the neon green liquid in your cup. Sighing, you downed the rest of it, your face contorting at the awful taste. You figured you needed to be wasted to deal with Jisung’s bitching for the rest of the night. You loved the boy to pieces, but he sure had a mouth on him.

Seemingly out of thin air, Hyunjin appeared next to Jisung, immediately slinking an arm around the shorter’s waist. Jisung giggled, “Hey, handsome.”

“Don’t do this in front of me.”

They couldn’t hear you, “I’ve been looking for you all night, babylove. Should’ve guessed I’d find you with Y/N.”

“Was the glittery silver blazer not enough for you to spot him? He looks like New Year’s Eve in May.”

Still ignoring you, Jisung poked Hyunjin’s chest teasingly, “Sounds like you missed me.” He bit down on his lip, and that was the last straw for you. You huffed, making your way to where Changbin was in the kitchen.

“Hey, Y/N! How was the drink?”

“Absolutely horrible. Make me another one.”

Changbin took the cup from your hands, pouring random amounts of various liquids into it. He handed it to you with a sly smirk, warning you to drink slowly. Not that you ever listened to Changbin. You pulled yourself onto the kitchen counter, sipping on the horrible substance while making conversation. You ignored the dark cloud seeping into your mind while he spoke about college. Chan, Changbin, and Jisung had all made it into the same university, as they had submitted 3RACHA songs with their applications. You weren’t a musician, so you were going to a different university that focused more on your kind of art. It was only two hours away, but that was two hours farther than you had been from them in years.

“Hey,” You interrupted his tangent, your voice barely above a whisper, “You guys aren’t gonna...forget about me, right?”

His smile dropped, “Of course not. We’re still gonna be best friends, aren’t we? And we’re gonna see each other every weekend, and when we come home for holidays, we’ll be together all the time.” He closed the gap between you two, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. It was awkward positioning, but Changbin’s hugs always made you feel secure. You swallowed your tears, mumbling a shaky, “thank you,” into his ear.

When he let you go, you quickly finished the rest of the drink and tossed the cup into a nearby trash can. Your last drink was starting to hit you, big time. A sudden determination filled your veins, “Hey, Binnie?”

“Mhm.”

“Have you seen Chan lately?”

“He’s probably with Seungmin somewhere.”

You nodded, jumping off the counter and starting your pursuit. It shouldn’t be that hard. How many guys did you know with fried blond hair?

After a few minutes of searching, you found him sitting on the couch with Seungmin like Changbin had said. Seungmin made a joke, and Chan threw his head back as he laughed. God, he was so...stunning. A gasp escaped your lips as you watched him. You felt your determination wither for a second, but you pushed through. This is your last chance, Y/N, you thought to yourself. It’s now or never.

“Can I talk to you?”

A look of alarm crossed Chan’s features as he nodded. He sounded unsure as he spoke, “Yeah, totally. What’s up?”

“I mean,” You glanced at the boy sitting next to him, “alone.”

A soft oh left Chan’s lips as he stood. He nodded to Seungmin before gripping your hand like he’s done so many times before. You could just barely hear Seungmin’s laughing as Chan pulled you away. Wait, you were the one who asked him to talk, why was he dragging you around?

To be honest, Chan didn’t know either. For him, taking your hand and leading you to secret places just seemed...natural to him. He led you up the stairs and into the first room he found. Lia’s room. Lia wouldn’t mind; she was a good friend. He closed the door behind you two, locking it just to be sure.

“What’s up, bunny?”

Your heart began to pound in your chest as you sat down on the bed. You sucked in a breath, making eye contact with Chan as you folded your hands, “I’m in love with you.”

He just stared at you, not even blinking. You watched his chest rise and fall with his breaths. An excruciating minute passed, which felt like hours to you, before he made his way across the room and next to you on the bed.

“Y/N…” He had hardly finished saying your name before your heart shattered, “we’re going to different schools next year. You’ll be focusing on your painting and I’ll be producing probably non-stop. I...wouldn’t be a good boyfriend to you.”

You tried to hold in the tears, you really did, but you were drunk and the boy you’ve been in love with for like 5 years just rejected you and you’re cold. So you couldn’t really help the choked sob that comes from your throat, and you had to restrain yourself from throwing yourself at him for comfort. He started to stutter, “N-No that’s not what I meant! I mean, it is, but don’t cry!” He clasped your shoulders and pulled you to him, allowing your tears to flow freely on his nice black shirt, “Y/N, you know I have feelings for you. I just...won’t be able to be there for you like you need me to. I want to be with you, I really do. It would just end in heartbreak. I would rather still be your best friend and only that than have you hate me as a boyfriend, okay?”

“I’ll wait for you.” You barely managed to get those words out through your cries.

“No, you won’t. Please don’t. Please move on, bunny.” You removed yourself from his hold, scrunching your nose up to sniffle the tears away.

“Can we just...go to bed?”

The smile that he gave you in that moment broke your heart again; so sad and sincere.

“Of course.” He laid you down, holding you close enough to hear his heartbeat. He was so warm.

God, how you wished you could stay like that forever.

four.

Chan couldn’t tell if he was more excited or nervous to see you. Your group hadn’t seen each other as much as you had hoped. At the beginning of the semester, you met up every weekend, excitedly chatting about your new classes and the new people in your lives. But as life continued, it got in the way. You hadn’t seen each other face to face since October, opting for texts and FaceTime sessions instead. And he missed you terribly. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, right?

He found himself thinking of you often. Even during songwriting sessions with Jisung and Changbin. They laughed at him when his lyrics became sappy, threatening to pull their phones out and text you Chan’s adoration. He regretted what he told you back in May; that he wouldn’t be good to you.

He sat in the living room of his childhood home, fidgeting in his seat. Changbin was scrolling through channels on the TV, a bored expression on his features. Jisung and Hyunjin were in the kitchen, making hot chocolate for the third time that night.

He couldn’t focus. You were going to knock on that door any moment, your parents in tow, and he didn’t know what he was going to do. Cry? Run into your arms? Fuck, try and kiss you? He stood abruptly, scaring the boy next to him.

“I-I’ll be right back.” He excused himself, hurrying to lock himself in his bedroom to breathe.

Changbin opened the front door, his eyes lighting up at the sight of one of his best friends, “Y/N!”

“Is Y/N here?” Jisung yelled from the kitchen, the pitter patter of his feet telling you that he was running your way. Two pairs of arms wrapped around you. They walked you through the door, with Changbin yelling something to your parents about where the other parents were. You felt your mother’s hand on your back, a way for her to tell you that they were going. When the boys finally released you, they noticed one other figure in the room.

“Oh…” Jisung gasped. Changbin just stared, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Um-” You coughed, trying to relive some of the tension, “where’s Chan?”

“In his room.”

You nodded before heading that way, lightly tapping on the door three times, “Channie? It’s Y/N.”

The door swung open, a breath-taking smile on the boy’s face. He wrapped you up in his embrace, swinging you around as he yelled your name.

“How have you been? How are you? Wow, you look so pretty!” His hands cupped your face, lightly dragging his thumbs over your cheekbones. You placed your hands over his, a dull heartbeat in your chest as you watched him speak.

Chan’s heart was pounding in his chest. He thought you could hear it, and that’s why you were looking at him so...analytically. They’re right here, he thought. You lost your chance last time, but maybe it’s not too late. Now or never, Chan.

“Listen, Y/N…” He sighed, “about what I said after graduation, at that party-”

“No, don’t-”

“Please just let me say this.”

You nodded, allowing him to continue, “I was wrong, okay? I shouldn’t have rejected you like that. I should’ve just...given us a shot. I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. You can ask the guys, all my lyrics have been about you, and they’re ridiculously cheesy. I know I told you to move on but...maybe I still have a place in your heart? And...maybe we can...try this?”

You couldn’t breathe. You shook your head, pulling away from him, “Chan, I-”

Seven months ago, you would’ve jumped for joy at his confession. Taken him into your arms and kissed him until you were dizzy. But now…

“Baby! How long were you gonna wait until you introduced me?”

Chan froze. Baby? Who the hell was calling you baby?

You took a few steps back, glancing over at the boy next to you, “Channie...this is my boyfriend, Minho.”

Boyfriend. You had a...boyfriend. You went and did exactly what he told you to do, but his heart still shattered. But he plastered a smile on his face anyway, shaking Minho’s hand, “I’m Bang Chan. One of Y/N’s best friends. Welcome to her second home.”

And the night continued like that. Your best friends focused their attention entirely on you and Minho. They asked him an endless amount of questions, from where he grew up to his favorite kind of bean. Sometimes, you would notice Jisung or Changbin giving Chan a sympathetic glance, but you ignored it. Minho was a good boyfriend, and you were genuinely happy with him. You didn’t expect your feelings for Chan to leave you so quickly, but distance doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder.

The five of you spent most of your winter break together. The only day you didn’t see each other was Christmas, which was spent with your families. The next day, you had your own Christmas, like you did every year.

The hardest day for Chan was New Year’s Eve. You had a party at Changbin’s house, with as many kids from your graduating class as possible. It reminded him of that night after graduation. Jisung still wore that ugly silver blazer, drunk and attached to his boyfriend all night. Changbin still made horrible, hangover inducing nightmare drinks that he persuaded poor college students into drinking. You were drunk again, too. But instead of crying into Chan’s chest like before, you were giggling up a storm with your new boyfriend. Chan watched from afar, jealousy pumping through his veins at the way you draped yourself across his lap, and how he looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky. That should’ve been him.

10 seconds before midnight, he felt sick. Everyone around him was so giddy, so excited for a new start. He couldn’t peel his eyes away from you two. Your hands were locked together, staring into each other’s eyes as you counted down the seconds. The TV at the front of the room screamed, “Happy New Year,” as he watched Minho’s lips crash against yours, a smile evident on both of your faces. He stalked out of the living room, making a beeline for the bar.

He had to get over you, the way you had so easily gotten over him. And he had to get over you now or never.

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kerosene-insomniac · 3 years ago

Text

To Be So Lonely

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Midoriya Izuku

Warnings: Heavy flirting, kinda aggressive tbh, wing-woman ochako

Word Count for Chapter: 3,270 words

A/N: The song is Bang Bang by Green Day

{0.7} Lemons

“When life gives you lemons, make sure you know whose eyes you need to squeeze them in.”

― Colleen Hoover

K A T S U K I

At this point, Katsuki should be able to tell the difference between a nightmare and a memory. Sadly, though, they often overlapped for him.

Katsuki doesn’t recognize this dream, though.

He’s sitting in a small room that’s barren, aside from a bed with a desk and dresser. Two black garbage bags were placed next to the toddler bed, where a smaller and much younger version of himself sat.

The small boy was no older than five or six, sniffling to himself as he messed with an action figure in his hands.

I don’t remember this.

Katsuki’s eyebrows furrowed slightly as he sat on the floor in front of the boy. The brat didn’t know he was there, so the tears started to flow.

“Katsuki? Where are you?”

Younger-Katsuki froze and immediately started to wipe away his tears. His red eyes were still puffy, but it would go away after a few minutes.

The door to the bedroom opened and an orange light brightened the room. A man, a strong beta, stood in the doorway. His hair was curly and brown, sticking up in odd places as if it was hard to maintain.

His eyes matched his hair, but looked exceedingly kind.

“I see.” The beta mumbled, his eyes flickering to the trash bags. “You still haven’t unpacked?”

Younger-Katsuki hid his previous emotion and huffed, crossing his arms. “Cause I don’t wanna! I don’t have to listen to you, stupid beta!”

I was a dick of a kid.

Instead of of getting angry, the kind beta chuckled and turned the bedroom light on. “Fair enough. Don’t you want to meet the baby?”

Baby?

Younger-Katsuki immediately brightened and shot off the bed. His action-figure was clenched tightly in his hand. “Auntie’s back?! With the baby!”

The beta grinned. “They just came home.”

The small pup screeched and bolted for the doorway, obviously trying to dart past the older man. Before he could, though, the older man stopped him with a gentle hand.

“Hold on, Katsuki.”

Younger-Katsuki stopped immediately, flinching away from the man’s touch as if it had been red-hot. He didn’t look excited anymore, but scared and obviously confused about the warning.

The beta sighed, pulling his hand away from Katsuki’s shoulder. “You’re not in trouble, Katsuki. I was just going to say that you need to wash your hands before you meet Izuku.”

Wait what the fuck.

Dream, then.

Definitely a dream.

“Oh.” Younger-Katsuki mumbled quietly, nodding to himself. “I’ll go wash my hands, then!”

Older-Katsuki, who had been watching the interaction with bated breath, relaxed as the bedroom door closed. Ever so faintly, the older alpha could hear the familiar trill of his morning alarm.

It was morning.

Katsuki’s eyes opened slowly.

His morning alarm pinged next to him on his night-stand, sounding more and more annoying as it bounced around the inside of his skull. The dream, which should have been fading by now, simply played over and over in his head.

Dammit.

Katsuki sat up and turned off his alarm before getting to his feet. He needed to go for a run, which should definitely help him him stop thinking about the green-eyed omega.

Deku.

Something about Deku was stupidly adorable and enticing to Katsuki. The small omega felt familiar and safe, despite the sole fact that they were strangers. Hell, the stupid Deku made it clear that weren’t even friends.

Which hurt way more than it should have.

Katsuki changed into his running clothes, making a mental note to take a shower when he returned. His own scent and pheromones always seemed more potent when he sweat, so it was his duty as an alpha to make sure his pheromones weren’t overwhelming to people around him.

Most wolves hated Katsuki’s scent.

Except Deku.

Even though Deku’s mumbling was incredibly annoying, it was becoming a useful tool to figure out what the shitty nerd was thinking. So when he mumbled about liking Katsuki’s strong scent, the ruby-eyed alpha was more than proud.

He’s fucking delighted.

Katsuki slipped his phone in the pocket of his jacket as Green Day started to blast in his ears. Crisp morning air nipped at his skin as he stepped outside, matching the pastel pinks and blues of the early-morning sky.

It was moments like these that made Katsuki feel calm.

I get my kicks and I wanna start a rager

I wanna dance like I'm on the video

I've got a fever for the violent behavior

I'm sweating bullets like a modern Romeo

Katsuki’s heart pounded as he ran his usual route, stopping every once in a while to allow cars to pass. He always liked running down-town for the simple sights he saw. He always saw something different each morning.

In the corner of his eye, Katsuki noticed the bar that he met a certain omega at. It was crazy that he had spent his whole life so close to Deku, but never actually meeting him.

Bang bang, give me fame

Shoot me up to entertain

I am a semi-automatic lonely boy

You're dead, I'm well fed

Give me death or give me head

Daddy's little psycho and mommy's little soldier

I testify like a lullaby of memories

Broadcasting live and it's on my radio

I've got my photobomb, I've got my Vietnam

I love a lie just like anybody else

Bang bang, give me fame

Shoot me up to entertain

I am a semi-automatic lonely boy

You're dead, I'm well fed

Give me death or give me head

Broadcasting from my room and playing with my toys

I wanna be a celebrity martyr

The leading man in my own private drama

Hoorah, bang, bang, hoorah, bang, bang, the hero of the hour

Daddy's little psycho and mommy's little soldier

Katsuki felt sweat along his hair-line, but the alpha focused on lining his breathing with the heavy bass of his music. He has more than enough stamina to handle a simple run, but he probably should’ve eaten first.

There’s a cafe close by, though.

Shitty Hair mentioned that they had good natto…

Katsuki huffed and slowed his run to a light jog. He was hungry and shit, so he might as well check out Shitty Hair’s claim.

It’s probably shitty as fuck.

The ruby-eyed alpha came to a stop in front of the cafe, narrowing his eyes as he studied the aesthetic. It looked soft and strangely comforting with a subtle nod to traditional Japanese culture. It smell of tea and food, accompanied the sound of subtle chatter.

A good sign, to Katsuki’s chagrin.

Katsuki swallowed his pride and stepped inside, immediately freezing as an all-too-familiar omegan scent washed over his senses.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

Dark chocolate and seductive cherries hung in the air, full of happy pheromones. This scent could only belong to one person and one person only.

Izuku Midoriya was chatting affectionately with an older couple, dressed in a soft grey apron the tied perfectly around his small waist. He still had a few bruises and his lip was still bandaged, but he looked relatively okay.

But what the fuck was he doing here?!

Doesn’t he have a fucking concussion?

The small omega was completely oblivious to Katsuki’s presence.

Izuku was scribbling on a light blue notepad, laughing softly at whatever the old man said. His skin was a delicate pink that accented his freckles in a stupidly adorable way, making Katsuki’s heart thud in his chest.

Even his hair looked fluffier than normal, if possible.

“Welcome to Ame Hana!”

Katsuki’s attention was forced away from the green-eyed omega to focus on the short female in front of him. She was small and obviously an omega, with a chubby face and rosy cheeks. She was also wearing a gray apron, showing exactly why she was speaking to him.

She looked familiar, though.

“Hah?” Katsuki huffed, narrowing his eyes at the omega in front of him.

The small omega cocked her head to the side, cautiously sizing him up. “You’re here to eat, right? This is a cafe.”

Katsuki blinked multiple times, his mouth settling into a firm scowl. “I guess. What the fuck are you talking to me for?”

“It’s my job.” The small omega snapped, her voice sharp.

The older alpha huffed, clenching his jaw and resisting the urge to fight the small omega in front of him. “Fine. Are you gonna get me a seat or make me stand here, Round Face?”

The omega frowned. “My name is Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou.”

Katsuki froze. “Excuse me?!”

Round Face (Uraraka?) huffed and crossed her arms, obviously trying to looked intimidating to the taller alpha. “I’m friends with Deku. I was at the fight and we literally met in the locker-room last night. Remember?”

Not really...

All Katsuki could focus on after his fight was trying to see Deku. When he burst into the locker-room, Katsuki was stressed to see the small omega still unconscious. Honestly, he barely remembered meeting Aizawa.

“Are you here to see Deku?”

Katsuki snapped out of his daze and growled. “Why would I be here to see that dumb nerd? I’m here to eat, Pink Cheeks.”

Uraraka raised an eyebrow at him, obviously amused. “Oh really? You were looking at him like a lovesick puppy before I came over here.”

“I was not!”

The small omega waved him off, laughing softly as she grasped a menu in her hands. “I’ll put you in his section. We’re unusually busy, so we’ve had to shut down the actual place to order. Deku will help you in a second.”

Katsuki’s head spun as she spoke.

This is happening way too fucking fast.

Instead of arguing, Katsuki followed the small omega to a small table. Deku’s sweet scent was all over it, making the strong urge to scent it himself become almost overbearing for the large alpha.

“Why the fuck are you doing this?”

Uraraka hummed, watching Katsuki as he sat down. “What do you mean, Bakugou? I’m obviously doing my job.”

Katsuki scoffed, rolling his ruby eyes at her vague response. “Don’t bullshit me. Why are you and the other extras so intent on me and Deku? Why the fuck are you doing this at all?”

“I just want him to be happy.”

The alpha blinked in surprise, his scowl vanishing as his mouth opened. Uraraka smiled warmly at him, handing him a hastily put together menu. “And what makes you think that I can do something like that? He fucking hates me.”

Uraraka shrugged. “He called me when he got home last night.

Katsuki’s senses heightened. “He did?”

“Yup!” Uraraka grinned, noticing the alpha’s change in demeanor. “He was very flustered and unsure about what he should do. I think that you’re his favorite.”

The ruby-eyed alpha narrowed his gaze, obviously suspicious. “His favorite? What the fuck does that mean, Round Face?”

The small omega studied him, here doe-eyes full of clear amusement at his behavior. “Most alphas treat him like he’s about to break. You think that he shouldn’t be fighting, but that doesn’t change how you interact with him.”

“Your fucking point?” Katsuki’s voice was rough.

Uraraka smiled softly. “You’re the first alpha he’s met that hasn’t immediately tried to get in his pants. You also clearly challenged him to a sparring match last night, so you’re willing to treat him like an actual opponent.”

She turned to walk away, but she glanced back at Katsuki. “He doesn’t want protection. He wants someone who offers support and challenges. You’ve gotten closer to him than most alphas, Bakugou. Good luck.”

****

I Z U K U

“Tell Inko I said hello, will you?”

Izuku smiled widely at the mated pair, respectfully bowing his head. “Of course! I’m sure that Mom will be ecstatic when she hears that you’re in town again!”

The small omega offered a silent goodbye and walked away from the table.

His whole body felt sore and tired, and Izuku knows that he definitely looks worse for wear. If he didn’t have bills to pay, the small omega would definitely be at home with his mother. They haven't spent any time together recently.

Izuku walked towards the counter and dropped the two menus off, gingerly squeezing hand sanitizer onto his hands afterward.

“Deku!”

The small omega hummed as Uraraka squealed into his ear, already used to her loud and bubbly behavior. “What is it now? I’m not taking over your tables so you can go on a date with Iida, Uraraka.”

Uraraka laughed, placing her batch of menus next to Izuku’s. “I was going to say that you have a special customer at table five.”

“Special?” Izuku repeated, glancing at his friend.

The bubbly omega next to him grinned, her eyes full of mischievous glee. “I think he came here by accident, but you’ll be so excited when you see him!”

Izuku narrowed his eyes at her before glancing at table five.

Dammit.

Katsuki Bakugou was staring intently at him from table five. He was in running clothes and covered in a slight sheen of sweat, but there was no mistaking those crimson eyes. The alpha wasn’t even scowling at Izuku, which was more than odd.

Izuku scoffed, shooting a glare in Uraraka’s direction. “I hate you. Why do you and Hitoshi try so hard to embarrass me?”

“Because it’s fun!”

The emerald-eyed omega sighed and grabbed his blue notepad. “You owe me lunch for the next three days.”

Izuku left Uraraka’s side without bothering to hear her response. His skin felt warm and slightly pink as he approached Kacchan’s table, anxiety churning in his stomach like a tidal ocean wave.

Don’t.

Panic.

It was easier said than done, though.

Izuku smiled warmly as he came to a stop at the table. “Welcome to Ame Hana! My name is Midoriya and I’ll be your server today!”

Kacchan raised an eyebrow at him, obviously amused by the omega’s stiff professionalism. He smirked lightly, almost like he was resisting the urge to laugh. “Cut the bullshit, Deku. Why the fuck are you working with a concussion?”

Straight to the point, then.

I should’ve seen this coming.

“Not everyone is a multi-millionaire, Kacchan.” Izuku snapped, trying to calm his expression.

Kacchan narrowed his eyes, completely unbothered by the omega’s hostile tone. “But you won a professional fight last night. I’m sure you’re okay to take a day off.”

Izuku felt his eye twitch slightly as his annoyance level steadily increased.

The alpha narrowed his crimson eyes as Izuku glared at him, carefully studying the small omega. “If you have something to say, then say it. I’m sure that Pink Cheeks won’t give a shit if you sit down with me for a few minutes.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

Kacchan grinned devilishly. “Then you don’t get the lovely satisfaction of telling how independent and strong you are without my input.”

When you put it that way...

Izuku sighed and pocketed his notepad. After placing his ballpoint pen behind his ear (where it was adorably peeking out of his curls) the small omega pulled out a chair and sat across from the smug alpha.

He’s definitely not doing this because Katsuki is stupidly attractive when he’s smug.

Not at all.

Kacchan smirked wider, his dominant pheromones sharpening as he leaned forward. “Should’ve known that you’d stay for that, Deku. That’s cute.”

Izuku flushed a bright red, his stomach churning with butterflies as he took a few shallow breaths. “Don’t ch-change the subject, Kacchan. I’m only answering your questions before I go back to work.”

“Why the fuck are you at work with a concussion?”

The small omega swallowed thickly, his face incredibly hot under Katsuki’s stare. “I have bills to pay. A friend of mine is a medical student and said that my concussion isn’t bad enough to be on bed-rest.”

Actually, Iida was strongly against Izuku coming to work.

Katsuki narrowed his eyes. “Bullshit. You were unconscious for five hours, Deku. I bet that you ignored his advice to stay home.”

“That’s hardly your concern.” Izuku countered, tracing patterns into the table with his fingertips.

The red-eyed alpha huffed, studying Izuku’s scarred and bandaged hands. “Someone has to worry. What kind of fucking bills do you have that make you so willing to put your well-being on the line?”

Izuku raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have to answer that, Kacchan. I’m not a weak omega in need of saving, you know.”

“I fucking know that!”

The small omega laughed, biting his lip as Katsuki flushed pink. “Then I’m not sure why you’re so invested. I’m not any different than most unmated omegas my age.”

Katsuki huffed crossing his arms. His biceps flexed, almost distracting Izuku for a second. “No, you’re different. I’ve watched you kick the shit out of an alpha thrice your size, and you have no sense of fucking self preservation.”

“Why does that bother you so much?”

The alpha fell silent for a split second, obviously studying Izuku before he spoke again. “It bothers me because it looks like you prefer putting others before yourself. It’s fucking idiotic, shitty Deku.”

Izuku’s heart thudded in his ears as butterflies churned in his stomach. Being so physically close with an alpha that made him weak at the knees was probably a bad idea. Katsuki probably only saw him as a helpless omega, which meant that his kindness was likely coming straight from his knot.

However, this doesn’t stop Izuku from feeling flustered.

Katsuki leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You’re coming to the gym today, right? Be fucking honest, nerd.”

Izuku snapped out of his daze, furrowing his eyebrows. “Shota doesn’t want me to overwork myself, so I’m just touring with sensei today. Why?”

“What time do you get off work?”

The small omega did a double-take at Katsuki’s boldness. “Excuse me? I, um, I’m not sure I’m following…”

Katsuki smirked, leaning closer to Izuku and pushing a stray curl out of the omega’s face. “Do I need to spell it out for you, nerd? I’ll be escorting you to the gym, but we need to stop by my place first.”

“I-I don’t think-” Izuku’s face felt hot.

He’s so close.

The alpha’s crimson red orbs sharpened as he scanned Izuku’s face. “You’re pale and it looks like you haven’t been eating well. I can’t kick your shitty ass if you pass out in the ring, shitty deku.”

“I-I was running late today…”

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed. “You fucking idiot.”

Izuku pouted, his freckled cheeks a rosy pink. “I don’t usually skip breakfast Kacchan. Stop being mean…”

“What time does your shift end, nerd?”

The small omega squeaked as Katsuki ran his thumb across his bruised cheek. “In thirty minutes. Uraraka is working my shift so I could go tour the gym…”

Katsuki pulled away after a few seconds, his light touch and narrowed gaze lingering on Izuku’s bruised face. “Then you’re coming with me, Deku. We’ll stop by your place and grab your workout clothes, but I’m making sure that your scrawny ass eats something.”

Izuku squeaked. “You can’t just-”

“I’m sure that Round Face won’t mind, right?”

The confident pheromones came off of Katsuki in waves. Even though he was wearing pheromone patches, Izuku could clearly smell his caramel scent. It was rich and intoxicating, leaving the small omega addicted.

Izuku shivered slightly, almost breathless. “Okay. But I’m only agreeing because you’re a stubborn prick, Kacchan.”

Katsuki smirked wickedly. “Don’t act like you don’t like it, Deku.”

#bakudeku #bakugou x midoriya #alpha/beta/omega verse #alpha bakugou #omega deku #bnha fanfiction #fanfiction #boxer au

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squarehere · 4 years ago

Note

Katara/Mermista💧🌊

This should be fun! Thanks for the ask, Rosey!! Sorry for the delayed response😇

Katara

2-4 songs that are probably on their iPod Modern R&B and indie rock; Say So by Doja Cat, Cellophane by FKA Twigs, early Stars (Ageless Beauty). She also likes New Age and traditional Native American Music to relax to. the one place they sometimes end up falling asleep – where they’re not supposed to She’s fallen asleep at the dinner table a few times, food still in her mouth! The rest of the Gaang NEVER lets her live it down. In fact, Sokka took pictures! This also happens after the kids are born. the game they'd destroy everyone else at Katara is a far better video gamer than you’d think thanks to her hand-eye coordination from waterbending! Shooting games are her favorite. And because I have to project my old fuck preferences, her favorite board game is Simon, and Toph is her favorite opponent. They draw small crowds when they play! the emoticon they’d use most often 😍 = Aang, 🤡 = Sokka (it’s the clown smiley if it didn’t upload), 🙄 = Zuko, 😎 = Suki, 👹 = Toph. Katara’s a cheeky bastard when she wants to be! what they act like when they haven’t had enough sleep She’a s canon grump, and she recognizes this, so she’ll give space to avoid snapping at others. Caffeine helps! Speaking of... their preferred hot beverage on really cold nights. or mornings. or whenever. Definitely jasmine or ginger tea, but once she discovers coffee, it’s all over! She takes hers unsweetened with milk. Black too if she’s feeling edgy! how they like to comfort/care for themselves when they’re in a slump Katara loves to swim and not just laps. She uses her waterbending to dive deep into the ocean and explore the scenery. She also likes to bury herself in pelts by the fireplace. Because it wasn’t part of her diet growing up, she loves deep-fried food! Savory and sweet!

what they wanted to be when they grew up Pretty much a doctor/healer, which she realizes. She secretly wants to be a singer. More on that later! their favorite kind of weather Deep cold because it’s familiar, but she likes warm weather! She appreciates dressing in fewer layers than she’s accustomed to. In fact, she enjoys all the seasons during her travels and after settling in Republic City. thoughts on their singing voice (decent? terrible? soprano? alto?) She has a beautiful voice, probably an alto! She could sing professionally if she chose. how/what they like to draw or doodle Stick figures. Just...stick figures! As much as Katara dogs Sokka’s art, she doesn’t have shit on him! They share the Terrible Art gene.

Mermista

2-4 songs that are probably on their iPod Lots of grunge and punk, so Glycerine by Bush and Babylon is Burning by The Ruts for example

the one place they sometimes end up falling asleep – where they’re not supposed to She tries not to fall asleep, so her eyes will completely glaze over during Princess Alliance meetings, almost trance-like. It becomes a running gag with the others. They’ll whisper that “she’s in her happy place” whenever this happens! the game they'd destroy everyone else at As a mystery lover, she’s into escape rooms, though she’ll never admit it (”They’re, like, sooooooo cheesy and phony! UGH!!”). But she can solve it in under 30 minutes! the emoticon they’d use most often This one hands down 🙄. 👀 when she’s being coy. 👅💦 when she invites Seahawk over! what they act like when they haven’t had enough sleep She isn’t cranky, believe it or not! She’s in a dazed, catatonic state. The other princesses think she’s stoned when they first encounter Sleepless!Mermista, but she’s good after a quick nap or caffeine boost. their preferred hot beverage on really cold nights. or mornings. or whenever. She absolutely needs her coffee, cream & sugar thank you very much. She has an enormous stash of honey citron ginger tea that she’ll gift her friends with. how they like to comfort/care for themselves when they’re in a slump All she needs is a new Mermystery on the beach or in her tub and some banana walnut ice cream! And if she can’t get to the beach or tub, the ice cream alone is enough! what they wanted to be when they grew up Something offering freedom, like an explorer or even a pirate, which thrills Seahawk to no end! She resents ascending the throne with Salineas in a shitty state, so she’d love to do something with no major responsibilities. their favorite kind of weather Salineas’ weather, hot, humid, and muggy! She is fascinated by other seasons, especially fall. The foliage and cooler temperatures are treats. thoughts on their singing voice (decent? terrible? soprano? alto?) It’s pretty good in canon! She’d front a band in a modern AU. how/what they like to draw or doodle She doesn’t doodle so much as she scribbles her signature or asinine notes during meetings. She’s taken up calligraphy, so she’ll practice that as well.

#katara #avatar #atla #avatar: the last airbender #kataang #mermista #she ra #she-ra #spop #she ra and the princesses of power #seamista

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anteroom-of-death · 5 years ago

Text

Life, For Dummies p9

a/n: a nice filler chapter. i woke up, edited this and now i must go back to bed. enjoy a cheeky bit of whatever the heck this is...

You woke up again, another confused morning. Not overall the biggest one yet, but you still laid there, half happy and yet, half sorting out everything. You smelled the coffee from the other room. His coffee was always such a comfort and beyond excellent. Never went stale or bitter either.

He really had you wrapped around his little finger, and what a way, via caffeine.

You stretched out in your bed and felt the collar shift around your neck slightly, and went to readjust it properly.

Closing your eyes and focusing on the now, you came to terms with all this slowly, the heat of the day slowly pouring in on your body and warming you up. You focused on feeling the rotations of the fan and the breeze on your bare midriff. You inhaled and held it for a few seconds before releasing it, as much as you were curious what terrible read that the Master was devouring and what the next logical step of this whole shebang was. But bed was good, bed was comfy, bed felt good with your nice duvet and fluffy pillows surrounding you. You felt lazy and a tad sore, so you let bed win out for a bit.

Once your loafing was done, you got out of bed and made a laborious moan and cracked your neck and sternum. You decided to prep slowly and let him wait a bit more. It was only right, waiting on one level, mini wait on another…

The coffee would be still piping hot.

You came out plain faced but a little tarty. He was lounging reading a book in what looked like an alien language, so no quippy remark this time from you. Maybe he planned it that way- he was tired of you ragging on his shitty taste in literature.You rolled your eyes and sat down to enjoy your coffee. “No fair- I can’t read alien scribbles.” You teased, lightly smacking him on the knee.

“It’s high old Gallifreyan. It’s a hidden erotic text from what construed as our dark ages.” He murmured, half lost in it. “Maybe teach me it, no fun if I can’t join in…” You teased, though erotica in the Master’s native tongue would be fun to read. Would allow more context on what made him.

You knew the amount of fanfiction you read probably shaped your subconscious in ways that you'd have to dig up Frued and have him work on you full time.

“That’s a thought…” He mused.

You nodded and went back to your mug. Your paranoia kept you waiting for the other shoe to drop. You placed your mug down and squinted hard at him reading. You rested your chin on the crook of your fingers and your arm on your thigh, tapping your thumb on the base of your throat in a half anxious way.

Eventually you sighed and motioned the book away from him, “So what’s the deal? What are we doing? All of this, are we leaving today or what?” You sort of pointed everywhere. You had a lot of questions. It was only fair that he didn’t leave you in an information lurch.

“I figured we’d laze around here today and work on moving you into the TARDIS again but I’d like to properly enjoy breaking you in again.” He winked.

You squinted again.

“You make out like I’m a pair of shoes you haven’t worn in a hot minute.” You did a light chortle. “That’ll inflate my self esteem.” You sarcastically added.

“Aren’t you?” He cooly retorted.

“Good one.” You wagged a finger at him. ‘You’re hilarious!”

“Oh, do I have to punish you?” The tone was lighthearted and jovial and yet it laid a real threat.

“Bring it on, Time Boy.” You pushed a little further. You grinned largely and stuck out your tongue.

He pulled you over suddenly and firmly by your ear and up towards your face. “Hmmm...looks like I do.” He was apoplectic yet smooth. “What should a brat like you get for questioning her Master?” He pulled you up over his knees and ripped down the shorts you had on. “So, I’m gonna spank you, but you have to count?” He stroked your ass gently with one of his hands while he supported your weight with the other by your neck.

“I’m thinking twenty?” You could hear a smirk from above you. You rolled your eyes, “How does that sound?” He stroked your ass again and grabbed a cheek with one hand, “Does that sound good, pet?” He let a finger linger on your cunt. You let out an anticipatory shiver. “Yes, Master.”

He paddled, you counted, after you reached twenty, you were doubting if you could sit after. You forgot how paddle-like his hands were. After twenty he massaged your ass and your clit, gently making sure he didn’t do any lasting damage. You still were irradiating heat and yet were gently brought to a gentle reward of an orgasm. He was a compassionate dictator, after all…

He brought you up and gently positioned you on his lap like a small doll. He pet your hair and kissed your jaw softly, gently moving up to your lips and nibbling softly, “Have you learned your lesson?” He breathed onto your lips.

You were intoxicated with the scent and woozy, “Yes, Master...I have.”

“Good.” Then he pressed his warm, supple lips against yours.

The day faded on lazily.

You got some boxes out of storage and started to move your precious items out into it to put back in your room in the TARDIS. It would be weird being back in there, you noted that you might have to change things up decor and interior design wise. You were fond of your tiny cottage and wanted to bring some of that into the hazy, crazy days of interdimensional space travel. You liked the slightly slow small town life you’d painstakingly made here.

You’d definitely try to enforce a policy of nights in front of a crackling fire in picturesque sights on occasion. Lazy nights in front of a fire with a nice drink were just the best luxury one could have.

Simple, yet relaxing.

You enjoyed a relaxing evening as much as you enjoyed everything else that the Universe could hold for you. Excitement and adventure had to be evened out with calm and relaxing. Both were good.

Emotions washed over you in waves. You really were in such a situation.

He was a good boy and made it up to you. You had to really give it to him for that. You found it ironic that he was the one in power yet you just applied the label “good boy” to him like he was a submissive or something. Maybe he was, but you were the one who kneeled here. That much was given. You were taken by him.

Oh, the minute yet twisted webs weaved.

You brought out the last of the boxes to the patio and screamed to the sky. How did you manage to accumulate such a crazy amount of stuff? Maybe Marx was right, something something consumerism fetish.

He peeked his head out of the TARDIS and gave you a quizzical deadpanned look.

“You summoned me?”

“How the fuck will I get this all in?” You panicked.

“Repeat after me ‘dimensionally transdimensional’, pet. It’s a whole other plane of existence in here. You know this.”

“Oh, right.” You knew, but sometimes it overwhelmed you and you rather would just kick a box. Which you decided to do. Maybe the Master was right, you were a brat… Oh well, you had a more pressing matter than your sore bum and the Masters hands milking you until you came.

You rolled your eyes at how eager you were to repeat the mistake of disobeying him. You bucked your hips as you tried to get your body back into packing mode and not cock-hungry.

Waltzing up you knocked on the door you waited for him to open it. "Help me get these into my room. I won't do them all." You shrugged.

He sighed melodramatically and joined you in moving and even unpacking them and putting your favorite mug in the kitchenette on display. "Easy access, like a certain slut I know." He tapped your nose, smirking then playfully slapping your ass.

You squeaked.

He rolled his eyes, "One more night here? We can have a fire like you like, even make a s'more. Always loved the idea of those. I read a book once as a child about alien cuisines and that was listed as a traditional Earthling dish…" His eyes lit up like a kid with a kitten.

You smiled and rubbed your ass gently, "Sure."

You indulged him in this and sat on your Master's lap, as the wicker and vinyl seating wasn't really the most comfortable seating for you at the moment. His thighs were cushion-y and the curve of them really supported you.

It was a lovely evening, you had to admit it. The Master's scent and the scent of pine trees and the maple wood on the fire. The chocolate and graham crackers were also adding a level of scent. If you could bottle up a scent for instant perfume production, it'd be this moment.

You quickly figured out that the main appeal was the open flame and setting the marshmallows on fire. "Remind me to never let you near a fondue bar or make souffles." You chided as you trimmed your hair from a bit catching fire ranting under your breath about mad men and flames. He was still giggling with the stick still blazing and dancing around the yard.

It was oddly endearing. Even if you had to give yourself a DIY haircut in your kitchen sink.

"Don't start a forest fire!" You screamed out the window. You exhaled sleepily. Despite the seven s'mores you had and the rollicking conversation you were having, you were still human, you needed to sleep. Big day tomorrow, you were moving and you were going back out on adventures. Your time here in this phase of your life was closing. You felt melancholic about it, but you wanted to see the stars again. The time off from it and the current start of your second relationship with the same Master gave you a newer, wiser perspective.

Was this growth?

If this was a story in literature class, you’d be if this was a bit of symbolism. Haircut and change. You laughed at yourself at that thought...

He came back from his fun run and asked you if you wanted to sleep, you nodded a bit and he led you into the bathroom and drew you a bath.

He really enjoyed giving you baths for some reason. Not that you minded, you were equal parts lazy and enjoyed the pampering of it. He was always so gentle with you in these times.

Your Master even blew dried your hair and helped set it.

He was a good Master, you were lucky to have him, you found yourself thinking as he tucked you away into the folds of your bedding like a burrito. He even kissed your forehead and turned out the lights. You found yourself thinking as you drifted deeper into sleep about ownership and how he'd been patient with you. Master was there to take care of you, all you had to do was obey him.

You could do that. You wanted to. You would obey….

#personal #i wrote this #dhawan!master #dhawan!master x reader #the master #master x you #master x reader #the master x reader #sacha dhawan #doctor who self insert fiction #citrus #yeet me into the sun

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