#Ridiculous how I was stuck there for an hour because my school thought it’d be a main spot destination | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

some-dr-writings · 4 years ago

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SDR2 guys x intimidating looking but sweet S/O

Hajime Hinata:

· You had been Hajime’s best friend for as long as he could remember. You were always so smart and the top in your class. Truthfully Hajime expected you to be invited to Hope’s Peak, but… you were always rambunctious. As smart as you were, you didn’t care for rules that existed outside ones of safety. You were labeled the school delinquent, getting into fights, breaking most rules for the sake of breaking them, doing whatever you could to get a reaction from others, all the while smiling and laughing away having the time of your life.

· “Ah! Hajime! That’s amazing!” “Y/N!?” You scooped him into your arms, lifting off his feet, spinning around and around. “MY boy, going to HOPE’S PEAK ACADEMY! This is amazing!” Suddenly your spinning came to a stop, stomping a foot on the ground to do so. “Hajime. Hope’s Peak is far, so you’ll be moving right? If that’s the case, you better text me every day! Okay, you don’t have to if you don’t want too, but at least keep me informed of the big stuff like how your first day was or the school festival or at least the sports day! Or, OR! If you’d like, maybe I could move with you, somewhere close to the school and I’ll just get a job in the area so you could just talk to me in person! I would visit, but even by train it’s a two-day trip and I’d probably get board at some point and get kicked off, and there’s also studying for school or work or whatever I do.” A light pink dusted Hajime’s cheeks, feeling a bit flustered at how excited you were, still effortlessly him closely, high off the ground. He swore his heart began to race seeing your absolutely beaming smile which seemed to shine brighter than the sun to him.

· When with his friends he’d speak of you often, not to the point of annoyance, just enough for them to know he clearly missed you. From how he described you, you seemed to be the sweetest, most wholesome person in existence despite being a bit rowdy. So when Kazuichi caught Hajime holding hands and appearing to be going on a date with a person covered in scars exposed by your unbuttoned shirt, haired dyed a bright blond, scary tattoos, spiked jacket and boots, even having a mask covering you face, nobody believed him till Hajime walked in on the conversation, saying that was you. After that they insisted on meeting you, wanting to know such a seemingly contrasting person existed, and when they did meet you, they gave Hajime their approval, even if he didn’t want or need it.

Izuru Kamakura:

· Many things Izuru found boring, but if he had to choose one thing he found more boring than anything else, it’d have to be the baseless rumors surrounding you, his partner, all because you had a scary face. It was so ridiculous he couldn’t even entertain the idea of you secretly being the heir of a yakuza gang or something so off the wall even he couldn’t recall. Whenever he heard such rumors as he walked down Hope’s Peak’s halls, he thought he may just fall asleep from how tiring it was, thinking about the mental gymnastics people had to go through to even come to such conclusions.

· It was another day and again he heard of your imaginary exploits of having killed a man in cold blood for money or some such and instantly he just felt exhausted. He continued to walk till he stopped before a door and knocked. “Oh, hey Izu-baby. What brings you here?” “… I just found myself here.” You chuckled, simply opening the door, taking your boyfriend’s hand and leading him in.

· You promptly plopped him into a seat, going off to get something, Izuru had the chance to examine the many brushes, hair products and hair accessories spread out on the counter. There were even several sticky notes on the edges of the large vanity mirror, neat writing noting some appointments you had. Seems like he had come in when you were cleaning between appointments. “I found a new brush and I think it should work well with your thick long hair.” You placed your a hand on one of the back rest corners of the chair, leaning a little over him, smiling as you held said brush before him. “Then test it.”

· You giddily collected his hair, your touch occasionally grazing across his skin. Your hands though covered in cuts, slightly dyed from all your hair styling work, and probably tired from having worked for almost six hours straight according to the sticky notes, they still were ever so gentle, making sure to not get caught on or pull any knots. Then you began to brush, starting from the bottom and working your way up. “Izuru, you have a few split ends, and it’s been a while, mind if I give you a light trim while I have you here?” “You have an appointment in forty-three minuets.” “Hmm… Yeah, I can get this done in time.” Once you reached the top you gave his hair a few extra strokes from top to bottom, making sure you got everything. “Oh, I also found a new shampoo which can help your hair. It’s still so dull, but at this point it might be because of your diet since I can’t seem to find anything that can work for you. Have you been eating? Has the staff been testing you on talents again and not feeding you?” “No.” You were going to ponder for a moment, to try figuring out what your boyfriend’s problem could be when said boyfriend placed a hand on your cheek, lightly pulling you beside him. Closing his eyes, he leaned in and kissed you on the cheek. “You’re so exhausted you forgot we spoke of this very subject yesterday.” “Huh?” Your entire face flushed a bright red, still unused to Izuru’s sparce displays of affection. Then to your confusion he pulled you onto his lap. “I-Izu-baby?” “You are taking a nap.” For some reason in that moment of seeing you so flustered he recalled the rumors. The thought of you even harming a fly was laughable, you were the absolute sweetest, kindest, caring person he had ever met. Holding you close he simply leaned into you, thinking you could both use a nap together.

Nagito Komaeda:

· You made your own rumors. The ones about you secretly being an assassin, you started it. The one about how you once were an international thief, you did it. The one about you selling drugs, that one was actually an accident, you were just getting a friend their pain meds, but you spread about a few more stories like it not long after. Why purposefully spread rumors many would wonder… well… there were two reasons.

· The first, you found most people annoying and simply didn’t want to deal with them, content with your small, very close friend group. It was the perfect way to get people to back off so you wouldn’t have to deal with them in their first place. You also found some fun in seeing people run from you from your presents alone, made you feel like some cartoon super villain which you found quite amusing.

· The second reason… You had always told your boyfriend the first one, but to his confusion, you’d always avoid telling him the other reason. Nagito knew you’d had to have your reasons for not telling him, but… well you were his partner, of course he was going to worry a little even if it seemed you knew what you were doing.

· But he could ignore it no longer when you took the blame for him. Nagito came up with a plan to blow up a building, forcing the exams to be delayed so his classmates could have more time to prepare for them… and you took for the blame for it, being expelled for a time, but not forever. You couldn’t even stay on your dorm on campus, winding up staying in some cheap hotel paid by the school.

· “Why did you do it?” “Eh, Nagito?” “WHY! Why did you take the blame for me!? I was trying to get you more time so you could show off in glory, but now you’re stuck here. Why did you do it?” Nagito was always so calm and composed, likely from facing disaster after disaster caused by his bad luck, but he was actually troubled, he was upset, but not even at himself like he always did thinking himself trash, no, he was legitimately upset with you. “… Normally people greet their partner with a ‘hello’ or something.” The last thing you were expected to be greeted by your first morning exiled from school was your boyfriend in such a state. “I- No. Y/N, tell me, why?” “… I…” You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, this new side you had never even thought existed, yet you also couldn’t bear to look at him either so instead you looked to his feet. “I don’t want to lie to you, but… I don’t want to tell you the truth either. But! What I can tell you, is that this is fine, I chose this, I wanted this. So, you don’t have to worry about me, this just means I have even more time to develop my talent.” You tried giving him a smile, but it just ended up strained seeing that didn’t placate him. W-why? He always saw everything ultimates did was amazing and respected even the worst of decisions, yet… he was mad, and sad, and so many other things you couldn’t pinpoint not being able to bring yourself to study his expression for long.

· “No, this is not fine. What you did is not helping you. This is only a detriment. I-I-I, I just can’t understand! I can’t understand why. How did this turn out so wrong?” “… the other reason.” “Huh?” You spoke so quietly, it was but a whisper, Nagito had just barely caught it. “The other reason… It’s why I NEED a bad reputation, not just something I want for the fun of it.” You sighed, preparing for the inevitable Nagito calling himself trash and you trying to comfort him song and dance. “You’re such a volatile wild card. I never know what you’ll do next. Nagito, you literally tried to blow up a building with people inside, I know your luck probably would have saved them or something or you assumed the ultimates inside would save the day, but… that’s not healthy! You’ve been through so much and need help. I, I want to help you, but I just don’t know what to do. So… to me, the best I can do is try to protect you.” Even as his eyes widened, realizing what happened, you continued. “With a bad reputation, rumors of all sorts, both extreme and little, it can be expected that I can do anything without it being out of character. I can take on anyone’s bad actions and call it my own and all will believe it… Even if I can’t protect you from the insanity that is our life, the very least I can do is protect you from yourself, the consequences of your actions. I can’t get you to at last see yourself as decent, I can’t stop your luck from torturing you, this… this is all I can think of for what I could ever do for you… it’s the only kind of affection I can give without you saying or thinking you’re unworthy of it… though I guess I don’t even have that now, but… I don’t know, maybe this was-”

· …

· He hugged you. He didn’t know what to say. He took in everything you said, yet his mind was just blank. He had so much to say, yet he just could… All he could do was just nuzzle into you, one who was just so sweet and kind, and… he needed to better for you, Nagito at least new that for sure.

Imposter:

· Imposter wondered how they ever were lucky enough to find a partner like you. They never thought they’d find anyone who could get them to see themselves as a person even without the disguises, let alone a whole class at one point. Yes, they still disguised themselves, but when they were just with you they felt okay to not keep the make-up, wigs and costumes. They were just… whoever they were without being someone else. Their own identity was something they still struggled with but working on it with your helped.

· Individuals who could stay true to themselves no matter what were people they respected highly, that was probably what got them to fall for you in the first place. No matter who avoided you, the children who cried from seeing your large, buff figure, no matter the sports nuts who insisted on you joining their team, you always were the shy Super High School Level Flower Shop Keep who loved exercising.

· When they first met you, they were masquerading as Beyakuya Togami, not exactly the most sociable of personalities, so they thought they scared you away. When first meeting a person you didn’t speak much, instead you’d gift flowers and spoke through flower language. “Oh, well… there’s a lot you can say with flowers. I’ve just always liked them. I just like being outside, so I exercise a lot! But then I got toned, and already being on the bulkier side some people find me scary… Ah, but if I give the children flowers, they usually stop crying… unless a bee comes by, then they cry again.” Even though you were so soft spoken when you did speak, it was still rather intimidating. There was just so much power in it.

· They rather enjoyed how you’d decorate them with your beloved plants, whether it be placing them behind their ear, in their hair, or in their breast pocket. They also adored each bouquet you gave. Very quickly their whole dorm room smelled of fast-food and a light floral perfume. They pressed and kept every last flower, preserving them all even the ones from when you first met.

· You were so open and honest, even though you tried hiding it they knew when you had a crush on them- or well Beyakuya… They had no identity outside of whoever they were impersonating, but… the thought made their heart ache. So, when you came up to them with giant bouquet filled with tulips, purple roses, red roses, alstroemerias, and baby’s breath they could easily see even as you hid it behind your back, a bright blush on your cheeks, they knew what was happening, and rejected you before you could give them the flowers and confess. You hugged the bouquet close as they explained their situation, and even after, you still held out the flowers to them. “So, your identity is more complex than I knew, but all our time together still happened. And if you change identities, it’ll be like a change in color. Definitely different, even changing the meaning, but the base is still the same, you’ll still remember our time together even as someone else.” And since that moment, no matter what came, you never left them.

Gundham Tanaka:

· The moment Gundham met the Super High School Level Vet, Gundham fell head over heels for them. They were an intimidating, brutish, scarred from battles past, every last feature was terrifying, their features sharp, everything about them commanded the respect of all, even getting his Dark Devas to be weary of them at first sight.

· Caring for animals was a tricky job, it often involved getting scratches and bites, but you also needed to be patient and kind. You needed to be respected but also not appear hostile. A balance you embodied, looking fierce, yet you were so gentle and sensitive to others around you.

· The pair of you always spent time looking after his many animals, tending to any injuries or illnesses they possibly could have gotten.

· You also tended to Gundham Tanaka himself, much to his flustered, blushing protest. “I have no such injures of which you speak!” “Tanaka, you can’t even hold a pencil you hand is hurting so bad. Please let me at least look at it.” He kept refusing till some students came by asking if he were alright, fearing the scary looking person who kept looming around him all day. “Pathetic! Of such a low level you can’t even decern one’s true nature!” Then he stomped off till finally he found you. “My Emperor!” “Hey Tana-” “I seek thy aid, for only one of your caliber could even remotely stand a chance of resisting my poisoned skin, let alone tent to the curse that plagues this mortal form!” You just silently stared at him for a moment before you started fussing over him, clutching his jacket since you wanted to hug him. “What happened!? Did it get worse!? Tell me EVERYTHING about how you feel! Do you think it’s infected!? How does it hurt!? Does it sting or burn, or what!?” Gundham himself began to panic, unsure as to how to calm and put you at ease, never before seeing you worried to the point of tears forming in the corners of your eyes! However, you did quickly settle down, getting serious tending to his wound…

· And even as you did so, you avoided touching him. If you needed to apply ointment, you’d use a q-tip, you’d do anything you could to not touch him… Even you tending to him sent his heart racing, showing vulnerability, he was used to giving the care, not the other way around. He felt vulnerable in a way, he showed you he was hurting, but you were so gentle with him, so aware of him, even stopping and giving him a moment to pause and collect himself.

· Someone so attentive and understanding… He groaned, embarrassed at how giddy, and excited, and nervous even the mere thought of you made him.

Kazuichi Soda:

· He was terrified of you at first, even going so far as to actively avoid you. But then he met you. The moment he did so he was so confused as to how he found you scary? After actually taking to you, he found you, looks and all so adorable! He’d gush to anyone and everyone about how kind and amazing and sweet you were. He’d defend you to the death if a person even made the smallest negative comment about you, much to your complete embarrassment.

· After becoming your boyfriend Kazuichi would always hang around you, cooing over everything that was you, shattering any intimidating precents you had with the man hugging your arm, speaking in such a sickeningly sweet tone with sparkling eyes.

· Feeling like the world was against you, Kazuichi spent all his time with you to make up for it. No matter how many times you told him he didn’t have to he insisted on giving you all the affection you so rightly deserve!

· When you weren’t embarrassed by the man’s antics you’d be just as affectionate in return. As he tinkered on whatever you’d hug him from behind, sighing, and nuzzling into the nape of his neck, tickling him, distracting him from his work. He’d giggle, giddy out of his mind at having someone so sweet and adorable love him almost as much as he loved you!

· If Kazuichi caught even one person giving you a funny look, he’d just hug and snuggle you with a pout, glaring at others.

· “Kazu, you don’t have to defend me from everyone. I know I’m not exactly the most approachable looking.” “What!? No! You are gorgeous! Adorable! Beautiful! Don’t self-deprecate yourself!” “I’m not, I just… I know you’re affectionate, but you don’t have to be so protective, I appreciate it, but you don’t have to do this every time. I just want you to enjoy yourself not feel like you have to be my knight in shining armor or something.” “Well, I can’t enjoy myself if others are being jerks!” Kazuichi would never admit it to you, but he felt guilty. He knew what it was like to be bullied, for others to make comments. He also felt guilty for judging you so much before meeting you. he was once scared with a person he instantly fell in love with after finally talking to them. He just wanted to make up for that, he wanted to say he was sorry… And feeling you hug him, thank him for being your knight, he was reminded all over why he loved such a sweet person so much, and he was determined to give you all the love he could to make up from being so cruel before.

Teruteru Hanamura: part 1

· Teru had a rather interesting relationship with the new delivery person. You weren’t mean, but your whole aura was rather intimidating with your cold demeanor and with how muscular you were. Yet of all people, you were warm and kind to him. You merrily chat about your day, or about anything. You’d get a laugh out of his flirting, even try and miserably fail at flirting back, something Teru found endlessly endearing. Whatever made Teru special he honestly didn’t care, just enjoying your company so much.

· After your hard work, well hard for most but for you it was just seemingly light stretches, Teru would cook a hearty meal for you to keep you going for the rest of the day! It was his favorite thing to do before opening the restaurant, just that single quiet moment of enjoying a meal with you.

· Teru could find something attractive about anyone, but with you… well you were certainly attractive, a stallion, a ten out of ten to him, but he found he so quickly grew feelings for you. True a person’s personality or voice could be sexy but there was something different about it with you. But whatever it was, didn’t matter to him, all he knew was that he just wanted to spend more time with you, and whatever you did together didn’t matter to him, as long as you were together.

· You sighed, taking another bite. “Is something the matter?” “I’m just going to miss this.” “What?” You didn’t even glance his way, simply continuing to enjoy your meal. “Yeah, I gotta move soon. I’ve actually stayed here much longer than I should, but… I just couldn’t resist sticking around longer ‘cause of you… again.” “Ah, well… that’s too bad. It’s been rather fun having you around.” “It’ll be alright. I know you’ll be fine without me. Actually, I’d like to ask you to make a promise to forget me.” “Forget you!? How in tarn- AH I- Ahem- How could I do that!?” You simply smiled and laughed, just as you did before. You placed a hand on his cheek, gently caressing him with your thumb. “You’re the only person I can call a friend. I know you can keep this promise, that’s just the kind of person you are. Sure, you’re a bit raunchy, but you truly are kind and care for others. You could never let me feel guilty about leaving you behind.” Teru was silent for a moment, just taking in what you said. “When will you be leaving?” “Uh… I should say tomorrow, but I’m thinking a week.” A week? Teru could work with that!

· “Please go on a date with me!” “… Huh?” In complete bafflement you just let Teruteru take your hands into his, a determined glint in his eyes. “If you’ll be leaving I want to make the most of the time we have left!” “…oh… uh… o-okay, we could do that.”

· And so, the week was filled with date after date, going all out with no inhibitions doing anything you could think of from watching a movie to sky diving. Wherever you went Teru always had a packed meal on hand for the pair of you to enjoy. It was honestly the best week of either of your lives. And all too quickly it had already passed you by.

· Standing on the bridge in the park you stood side by side watching the sun rise. “Well, that’s it, I better get going. I really enjoyed this, just as always. Thank you.” “Now hold on a moment, you can’t go just yet!” He held out a small plastic container to you. “You need a good meal for the road! Don’t know where you’re going, but wherever it is, it’d be a downright shame if I left you hungry along the way!” You simply stared at him for a moment before the softest, most earnest of smiles he had ever seen creased your lips. So tenderly you took the container. “… Some things never change I suppose… At least I know you can still keep that promise.” Then without so much as explaining your strange words, you disappeared as if you never even were there. It was sad for Teru, yet something in him knew he’d see you again, and that thought let him go back to his everyday life as if you never appeared, yet after that life just seemed more lively to him, just like those later years back in Hope’s Peak, though as to why that time seemed livelier he couldn’t quite remember.

Nekomaru Nidai:

· Being a rather intimidating looking guy with a heart of gold, Nekomaru took to understanding your situation quickly. Both of you being athletic and getting rather larger builds it just kinda naturally happened.

· Being the exceedingly kind individual you were others often took advantage of that. Even if you knew it was bad you couldn’t bring yourself to not help others in need for even the smallest of things. This was not something Nekomaru could stand, but finding you standing out in the rain for two days straight was the last straw and the man insisted on training you! You were a bit nervous at first not wanting to take up so much of your best friend’s time, but with some reassurances Nekomaru managed to warm you up, both literally and metaphorically to the training.

· At some point the training turned into days out, going hiking up mountains, or jogging on beaches, swimming in lakes and doing crossfit, sometimes going out for walks in the night, exploring the city looking for things to do, perhaps some karaoke, some slow dancing by moon light, and yeah you two just ended up dating without meaning too.

· The pair of you always came up with excuses like the slow dancing was training in balance, no you totally did not want to dance because it was a beautiful night and you could hear ballroom music not far in the distance, no that was totally not it, that’d be dumb… or so you kept telling yourself in these moments so you would not confess to the man fearing he really did only see these outings as training and nothing else.

· That was till you overheard Nekomaru chatting with his classmates, one of them asking how his ‘date’ with you went and he spoke of your beautiful hike up the mountains, not even batting an eye at their wording. Did… did he not notice, or just not care? Did this mean he liked you too? Or did you mishear? Quickly getting frustrated with this line of thinking you decided to just settle this!

· “There you are-” “I have something to tell you!” The man silently stood there, just waiting. Okay, this was it, and you took a deep breath. “I… I REALLY LIKE YOU!” “I REALLY LIKE YOU TOO! YOU ARE A CHERISHED FRIEND OF MINE!” “NO, I MEAN- I-I-I LOVE YOU, I THINK!? I DON’T KNOW!” “I LOVE YOU TOO, A LOT IN FACT!” “N-NOT AS MUCH AS I LOVE YOU!” “OH YEAH!?” “YES! SO MUCH!”

· Screaming your feelings for one another was a very common occurrence in the relationship. Even if one of you simply caught sight of the other off in the distance you’d yell ‘I love you’s, which more often than not scared or startled the people around you hearing such loud, booming voices out of nowhere.

· Life with Nekomaru could be a bit much at times, but it was well worth it for such an amazing guy.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu:

· You were perfect for him.

· You didn’t have any reputation really, but wherever you went people knew not to mess with you. Your mere presents not much but if one got close, they could feel this unsettling air about you making them go away. You, being the Super High School Level Street Fighter knew how to defend yourself from most attackers so Fuyuhiko didn’t have to worry about your safety like he’d have to with most others like the majority of his old classmates like Hajime.

· You were also the most kind and sweet person he had met. Behind closed doors you’d always have you arms open for Fuyuhiko. You’d hold him close, just let him listen to your steady heartbeat and make him feel so safe and secure. His favorite thing was to just cuddle with you.

· He also liked you being by his side, it served a dual purpose. One: if somehow when meeting some rival gang his reputation didn’t precede him, you were enough to intimidate them at a glance, despite his own baby face. The second and much more important to him, just being with you. True you were well equipped to handle yourself, but you were still human can had come back home to him plenty of times with new scars not from your usual fights, so by your side he and Peko could protect you.

· He also liked how you were with his subordinates. You were strict, showing no signs of weakness, more than willing to put them in their place should it be needed, yet that didn’t stop you from being kind. You’d do research for days on end trying to find the perfect birthday gift them. You’d train their kids by hand in all ways of fighting, but not for attacking but self-defense, their parents were in a dangerous job so your ‘day job’ of being a children’s fighting instructor helped to place their minds at ease a little.

· If he could he’d go on for hours singing your praises. You were perfect for him in every single way without a single doubt.

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 4 years ago

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One thing that has always bothered me about the magical system in HP is how much it... doesn’t exist? No one questions anything, there’s almost no theoretical exploration, and Hermione Granger (someone I’ve always found to be of average intelligence at best) is the brightest witch of her age.

Some characters seem to be inexplicably more powerful, but I wonder if it isn’t simply a matter of discipline and will-power.

What are your thoughts on magic? We never really see what light vs. dark entails, so fanfic authors tend to make it up as they go along, but do you have any head-canons about how magic works in HP?

I mean, to be fair, it wasn’t really the point of JKR’s series. She just wanted to write about a kid going to a magic boarding school in Scotland with this quirky witch aesthetic.

No need for her to placate us uber nerds who demand a sensible explanation to the minutia of her magical system.

Right, but yes, it clearly bothers me too. No one questions anything, there’s no understanding of why wands and spells even work, or why it has to be in this weird pseudo-Latin. No one even bothers to learn Latin, for that matter, and you think they would given the damn spells.

Hermione Granger is the brightest witch of her age given that “her age” is either around 30 people (the amount of people in her year) or else around 300 (the population of Hogwarts at a given time) which is a pitiful amount. She also is an extremely hard worker and actually reads her textbooks, sadly I think this gets you ahead of 95% of the population.

Part of the reason I think the Wizarding World thinks like this is that they’re this incredibly tiny, cut off, insular society. Generally, when you have a small society cut off like that you tend to lose innovation or even understanding of technology you have.

But that’s not what you asked. Right.

Personally, I think there is no light and dark magic. Magic is just this part of the natural universe that muggles, for whatever reason, are not able to directly access. It’s neither good nor bad, it just is. For that matter, I don’t think spells themselves really exist, or rather, they’re not what magic really is in its purest form but instead a way that humans can easily access and control magic to perform a certain task. Kind of a glorified API if you will.

So, dark magic and light magic are instead arbitrary labels that wizards apply to their own tool box based on the functions of that tool. If you have a tool that is only designed for/can be used for the murder and torture of sentient beings: well, that’s bad, we’ll call that dark. That said, do I think the spells themselves are inherently evil? No. It’s like if you open up your tool box, pick out a sledgehammer, and go, “This, my child, is an instrument of pure evil and you must never touch it.” Well, that’s a bad comparison, it’d be like taking a handgun out of your tool box and saying “this is a dark weapon”. Now, this gets into a debate I don’t want to get into, but to me dark spells are a lot like handguns (they’re designed for only one purpose and there’s no squirming your way out of what that purpose is).

Now, I think wizards have forgotten this (mostly because they don’t understand what spells or magic is), and so they get very hung up on the labels of spells or even just your odd genetic trait (i.e. parseltongue). So, we have these weird moments where someone uses, say, the severing charm to cut somebody open in the middle of the street. And it’s less bad than if they had used the killing curse to kill them painlessly and easily, because the severing charm’s not dark magic.

It’s like... If someone were to walk out and bash someone over the head with a sledgehammer until it kills them it’s less evil than if they shot them in the head with a handgun.

Wizards seem to miss the point of this.

As for what magic is, I believe it’s... direct energy that wizards are able to access in a way that muggles (thus far) cannot. What do I mean by thus far? Well, look at electricity. In ye olden days, I’m sure that if you asked a wizard they would say that making artificial light without flame is a property solely done by magic and muggles are not capable of it. Well, muggles then did it, and suddenly the definition and parameters of magic change. Wizards are kind of like chess grand masters who suddenly lose to your AI du jour, who say that it doesn’t count because the AI didn’t really do it like a human would. It’s not real intelligence.

I don’t believe people have magic in and of themselves, any more than anyone else does at any rate, because we see too little differences between powerful and mediocre wizards. You’re either a squib or you’re not, there doesn’t really seem to be a spectrum, and those who struggle with spells appear to do so for other reasons (Neville has severe confidence issues and is traumatized, Harry’s an idiot, etc.)

I think what separates the great wizards from the rest is hard work, the ability to read books and learn from them, even an inkling of understanding of how spells really work and how to create them (and this makes you Voldemort level right here), and a good ear to be able to pronounce your ridiculous pseudo Latin.

The wand is a tool specifically designed so that, with repeatable easy to understand steps, you can perform a whole array of tasks and even use them as building blocks to develop a new spell (combine swishes, flicks, and various garbled sentences together in such a way and BAM new spell).

Your wand, in other words, is your API to direct and access untold amounts of energy from the universe.

But people have forgotten that so instead what you memorize are very specific function calls that will prove useful in your daily life.

As for the wand and spells themselves, well, here’s my hokey ridiculous theory on how that came about. A long time ago, a brilliant foreigner enters the Roman Empire with a revolutionary idea that puts him on the level of Einstein/Newton/Feynman Name Your Stupidly Brilliant Physicist. He says, hey, how about instead of doing these time consuming magical rituals we develop a tool that, in a matter of seconds, allows us to perform truly complicated and powerful magic any time we want. No more relying on having the right ingredients about, virgin sacrifices, the full moon, etc.

Everyone probably laughs at him, but then he goes off and designs a rudimentary wand, and through probably some uber ritual that was dangerous as hell implements this system by which by flicking your wand a certain way and saying basic commands like “levitate”, “repair”, etc. you can perform these tasks.

Only, the guy’s foreign and Good Will Hunting (no formal education in the empire), so he doesn’t actually speak Latin. So what you have instead is this weird half-Latin like, “Leviupwards Fly”, “Repair-o”, etc.

It sounds dumb as hell, but goddammit it works, and more it gives Roman wizards an unheard of advantage against their enemy wizards who are all stuck doing these stupid rituals. They suddenly have a vast military might, so long as they use these wands and spells this guy came up with.

Everybody who’s anybody, who wants to win a fight, is now using wands. Wandcraft becomes a huge deal and people specialize in fine tuning these things exactly so as to get the maximum efficiency for a particular user.

And they probably go up to our guy and say, “Hey, buddy, can you make this in actual Latin? I can barely remember what it is I’m supposed to say to get this to work” and after the hours, and hours, and hours he spent making this thing that nobody helped him with he goes, “DO IT YOURSELF, BITCH”. And they never do because they’re too damn lazy/have no idea how he actually did it and any attempt to recreate it ends up with something that’s pitiful and doesn’t work.

So, they’re all stuck with it, and thousands of years later they forget this guy even existed and while there’s a recognition that not all magic has to be performed by wands there’s just this feeling that the wand is the magic. And so no one will ever come up with an English/French/Whatever version where when you say “Up” the thing goes up.

And that’s “The History of Magic” as brought to you by The Carnivorous Muffin.

#ask #harry potter #magic #headcanons #anti hermione granger #anti harry potter

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years ago

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Just a Thought Away | Owen Patrick Joyner

Request: Could you do a soulmate au with Charlie or Owen, whichever you're more comfortable with, where they can hear each other's thoughts or the music they listen to?

A/N: Made it an Owen one shot since I don’t have many requests for Owen! Hope this is what you expected and you like it! :)

Pairing: Owen Joyner x Fem!reader

Warnings: Very minor swearing

Words: 4,175

Another note: Anything in bold and italics is a thought!

Songs used: Pump It - Black Eyed Peas

Growing up, Y/N’s mother told her these stories about soulmates and how every person on this earth would be assigned a soulmate by their guardian angel at 16. People would be able to hear their thoughts and the songs they were listening to or singing would be playing in their head as though it was just stuck in their head. Of course, as a child, Y/N used to believe her every word and would be clinging to those words. She’d fantasize about her soulmate and where she’d meet them or what music they’d be into. She’d keep her eyes on every person in Middle School and even High School, trying to see if she could just find them. Not like there would be any physical notabilities, but she liked fantasizing about it. By the time Y/N turned 16, she had almost forgotten about the whole soulmate thing. Her birthday was months ago and nothing ever happened. She never heard a song play in her head she didn’t know or hadn’t had any thoughts that didn’t belong to her. She was pretty certain all of those soulmate stories her mother told her were fake. Until July 19th 2016. That’s when she first starts noticing some things. To start off the day, the song ‘Happy Birthday’ is stuck in her mind and it’s not even her birthday or anyone else’s in the family or friend group that could’ve provided that song in her head. During the afternoon of that day, Y/N suddenly hears a humming in her mind that quickly changes into a full-on made-up song that no one close to her would ever sing. “Mmh, Cake, cake, I like cake Cake, cake, I like cake.” She can’t help but laugh, though. She’d been studying for many hours without taking a break, it’s starting to mess with her brain a little. Y/N’s teachers have been giving so much work lately, she’s nearly drowning in it and it’s far from done. Sophomore year is possibly one of the hardest, in her opinion, and having the need to maintain a social life really doesn’t help with that. She hasn’t been to a party for weeks. She’s starting to crave human contact and dancing and having fun with friends and not sleeping until the sun rises. Though that last part sounds very appealing when you’re at a party, it doesn’t when you’re in bed and trying to sleep. She’s woken up by loud music thumping in her ears. It sounds almost as though the neighbors are having a party next door, but when she gets up and walks outside the house, she realizes the house next door is completely dark. There’s no movement whatsoever. She must’ve hallucinated, but then why is she still hearing this loud music? That’s when it dawned on her that the soulmate stories her mother used to tell are real. As a matter of fact, the songs she’d been hearing all day long were the songs her soulmate was listening to or singing. It must’ve been their 16th birthday, which they are now celebrating at a party. She always thought it’d be more fun and romantic to have a soulmate and hear them sing and think, but it’s actually pretty annoying. And it’s only the first day. This is going to be fun.

“Morning, sweetie,” Y/N’s mother greets when she stumbles into the kitchen the next morning. She hasn’t slept one bit. Her soulmate has been partying all night and only got home by 6am, which was two hours ago. “Oh, you look rough! Are you feeling okay?” “I haven’t slept all night because my stupid soulmate was out partying all night.” Her eyes widen at this, as does her smile. “They turned 16 yesterday, so I guess that’s why I never heard anything yet on my birthday.” “Oh, yeah! You both need to be 16 before the whole soulmate-thing starts to work,” she informs her daughter and hands a cup of fresh, steaming-hot coffee. “Do you know anything about them yet?” She shakes her head before taking a careful sip from the goddess liquid --as she and her siblings call it. “No, I kinda thought it was my brain hallucinating from studying so much, so I couldn’t really think of a way to converse with them.” Her head snaps up as an idea crosses her mind. “How do you converse with your soulmate, mom?” She shoots her a tender, relieved smile, happy she can finally properly inform Y/N about it instead of those folklore stories. “You just think what you wanna ask them and they hear it,” she replies. “So, if I let my inside voice just yell ‘shut up!’, they’ll hear too?” Her mother chuckles, nodding her head in response. “Good! I ought to try that whenever they’re singing about their cake again.” Her mother laughs at that before leaving her in the kitchen, so she can get ready for work. Her soulmate is seemingly still asleep, which she would’ve been too if it wasn’t for work. Y/N works at a coffee shop on the weekends, just to get some experience and earn a little bit of money for her shopping addiction. Maybe right now would be a perfect moment to avenge her soulmate for keeping her up all night last night. So, while getting ready, she puts on some music on her laptop. With the volume on maximum, she starts belting the One Direction song along at the top of her lungs. “You and me got a whole lotta history!” It takes a while before a loud ‘SHUT UP!’ echoes through her mind. A teasing smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she stops singing. “That’s what you get for keeping me up all night, sweetie” she thinks, hoping it’ll come through. For a moment, she thinks it might not work like that until a boy’s voice floats through her brain. “Who’s this?” She chuckles, pausing the music and taking a seat at her desk. “Y/N Y/L/N. Ever heard of those soulmate folklore stories?” She starts doing her make-up whilst waiting for his response. “Yea, my father used to tell me those. I thought they were fairy tales?” “So did I. Turns out they’re real!” This feels so weird. “You just turned 16, right?” “Yeah, yesterday! How’d you know?!” he asks, and it makes her realize he might not be the brightest tool in the shed. “Because I turned 16 in January and I didn’t hear anything until yesterday…” A silence falls over the conversation. Either it’s not working anymore or he’s digesting all this information. “You heard me singing to my cake, didn’t you?” he finally asks instead, and Y/N can even hear him chuckle. “Yep! I thought I was hallucinating because I was studying so hard,” she lets out a chuckle too. “Happy belated birthday, by the way.” “Oh, thanks! I’m Owen, by the way. Owen Joyner.” She has heard that name before, but she’s got no clue where, though. Making a mental note to Google it later, she grabs the mascara and adds the finishing touches to her makeup. “Nice to meet you, Owen. I gotta get going though. Have to be at work in about…” She glances at the clock on her wall, her eyes widening when she sees the time. “Five minutes. See ya! Or… Hear ya?!” She hears Owen chuckle in her mind. “Yeah, I’ll hear ya,” he says, then a yawn-like sound buzzes through her, giving her the urge to yawn too. “Sorry for waking you up,” she quickly adds before running out of the house. Her mind’s going over a million excuses as to why she would be late to work, but none of them sound quite plausible. Especially not the truth. “Go with ‘the neighbors had a party last night and I overslept’-excuse, Y/N,” she hears Owen’s voice again, “Now stop thinking, I wanna sleep!” She chuckles, shaking her head. “Thanks, Owen. And I wanna sleep too, but I can’t, now can I? Me awake means you awake. Deal with it.” She can even hear a disgruntled groan, meaning he’s probably getting up because her thoughts won’t stop running through his mind. That night, she figures out he's the Owen Joyner, aka Crispo Powers from “100 things to do before High School”, a TV-show she’d watched almost daily in the last two years. She asks him about that too, and he explains the whole auditioning and filming process and how much fun it was for a first acting gig. He asks about her life too, and the two of them bond over thoughts. This whole soulmate-thing is still very whack. But, to be completely honest, she kind of loves it. It’s like having an angel on your shoulder, telling you what the best option for your dilemma is. Though, most times, Owen is more likely the devil. Which is what Y/N needs most times. The most fun thing about this whole Soulmate-connection thing, have to be the dance parties the two of them hold at night, unless she has to get to work the following day and Owen won’t stop singing at the top of his lungs. One night, he was singing Pump It by the Black Eyed Piece at 3am. She’d groaned at first, hoping that’ll subtly tell him to shut up, but it didn’t work at all. He just kept rapping the verses, keeping Y/N awake and annoyed. “Come on, baby, do it” She decides to finally give in, knowing he’s not going to stop until she starts singing along. So, she sits up straight in her bed, and belts the lyrics at the very top of her lungs, not even caring about anyone in the house hearing. “La-da-di-dup-dup die dy On the stereo Let those speakers blow your mind” “Blow my mind, baby” She chuckles at his interruption. “To let it go, let it go Here we go La-da-di-dup-dup die dy” “C'mon, we're there” “On the radio The system is gonna feel so fine” He stops singing then and a silence falls over the both of them. Y/N can’t lie, in the past couple of years as she’d grown closer to him, spending every waking -- and sleeping -- moment together, she’d started developing some feelings for Owen Patrick Joyner too. It’s ridiculous because she’d never seen him in real life. She knows everything about him and she knows what he looks like, but she doesn’t know what his hugs feel like, or what his cologne smells like. “You’re a great singer, Y/N,” he finally breaks the silence, “I’m gonna let you sleep now, kay? Good night, baby girl.” Of all the pet names he’d given her so far, Baby Girl, Princess and Gorgeous were her favorites. All of them with a platonic tendency, though, much to her dismay. “Good night, O-bear,” she whispers back before tucking herself into bed again. Then finally, in 2019, Owen and a couple of people from the cast and crew of Julie and The Phantoms, his latest project Y/N was most excited about, decided to make a trip to New York City, her hometown. To say she’s excited would be the understatement of the year. She’d finally be able to hug him and talk to him properly and show him around her hometown and get to know the rest of the cast she’d heard so much about. But among the excitement also hides a little bit of nerves. After years of talking to him by just thinking, she’d finally see him in real life. What if things get awkward? What if it’s not what she expects? What if he’s only so beautiful in her mind? Y/N is walking around the coffee shop, wiping down tables and jumping up every time a new customer enters, thinking it’s Owen. He knows where she works on the weekends, and promised to find her there the minute he’d gotten settled in his hotelroom. “Ooh, pretty girl over there.” Her stomach churns as she hears his thoughts. He forgets about the whole soulmate-connection thing sometimes and just lets it out unfiltered. She knows he doesn’t like her the same way she likes him, and he’s allowed to look at other girls and think they’re pretty, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. “All around the world pretty girls,” he sings the famous Britney Song. “Mostly at coffee shops, yeah I’m talking about you, pretty girl.” A soft rap on the window next to Y/N makes her snap out of her focus on Owen’s voice. When she looks up, there’s a tall, blonde man waving at her through the glass with the biggest smile on his face. A flutter erupts in her stomach whilst her mouth involuntarily curls up into the widest smile she’d ever managed. She gestures at him to come in and hastily makes her way to the door herself. The second he walks inside, she launches herself into his arms. Wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, she holds him tight and inhales the smell of his cologne. He smells of the most divine combination of spearmint and musk. Just as she’d imagined him smelling like. “I can’t believe this,” she hears him think, which makes her chuckle. “You know you can actually talk to me right now, right?” she tells him, pulling away slightly so she can look at his face. There’s a slight stubble growing on his cheeks and chin, and his eyes look even prettier in real life than on a phone screen. “Right, yeah,” he chuckles, Y/N’s new favorite sound in the world. “Old habits die hard.” She smiles down at him whilst the two of them just stare at each other, basking in the fact they’re finally meeting. “She’s even prettier up close.” YN/ blushes at the compliment, and combes her fingers through his hair. “Oh, fuck, you heard that. Sorry!” “It’s cool. You’re pretty up close too.” This makes him chuckle. The whole thing is still bat-shit crazy. Both of them have gotten weird commentary whenever they told friends and family how they communicate with their soulmate. Most people just start texting and calling when they find their soulmate, but they didn’t. This whole new way of conversing was way too much fun, though a little annoying at times. And especially now that they’re in the same place together, it’s even more fun because no one else knows they’re talking to each other. A soft cough behind Owen causes Y/N to snap back into reality. Peeking behind the boy’s head, there are three other guys, staring at the scene with wide smiles playing at their lips. Two of them are about the same age as them, but the other one is older. Older but very, very famous. Y/N herself is a big fan of his work. The legend, Kenny Ortega himself. “You might wanna introduce me to your friends over there,” she tells her best friend. Owen takes a quick peek behind him, realizing he’d forgotten about his friends that had come along with him to meet the infamous Y/N. He puts the girl down on her feet again before turning to the three men. “Guys, this is Y/N Y/L/N. Gorgeous, these are Jeremy, Charlie, and Kenny.” He points to each of them when their respective names are called. Y/N offers them a wave and smile, not sure if she should go straight in for the hug like she’d done with Owen. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N,” says Kenny as he opens his arms and embraces the girl. Said girl is now completely starstruck in a way she’d never been before, and she’d met a few of her favorite actors or artists. None of them made her feel this way. “You too, Kenny,” she manages to bring out when they pull apart, “Big fan of your work!” All she’s hoping right now is that she doesn’t sound too creepy. “You’re all good, Princess. Breathe.” Owen’s voice calms her down just in time for Charlie to engulf her into a hug too, and then Jeremy does the same. “Why don’t you guys take a seat, and I’ll make you some coffee before I’m off for today?” she suggests, and after hums of assent, the girl takes their orders and gets back to work. “There you go,” she mumbles as she places the coffees on the table and then distributes them correctly before sliding into the booth next to Owen. “So, what are your plans for today?” she asks. “Just some touristy bits,” Charlie replies with a shrug, “Any recommendations for us?” Y/N thinks about it for a while, knowing Owen can hear her thoughts. “Why don’t you come along?” Owen’s voice echoes through your brain. “Why don’t I take you guys around to the best spots no tourist will ever find?” she suggests, earning a thankful smile from Owen. “I think I knew a few places I could take you to?” All three other men agree to your suggestion. So, after you all finish your coffees and you’ve given them your employer’s discount, the five of you leave the coffee shop and hit the streets of New York City. “This is where I proposed to Care!” Jeremy exclaims excitedly as you’re sharing a couple stories from your childhood in Central Park. The guys have told a little more about their own lives, too, so Y/N felt comfortable enough to talk so freely and unfiltered about her own childhood, not noticing the way Owen melts at how adorable she looks being so excited about her childhood memories. “Re-enact it, Jer!” Owen exclaims excitedly as he scurries away from Y/N’s side and jumps down the small flight of stairs in one swift hop. Jeremy follows his best buddy and kneels down in front of him as if really proposing. Y/N takes her phone out of her back pocket and snaps a picture of the beautiful scene, giggling as she does, along with Kenny and Charlie. “The cutest couple!” the girl compliments, jamming her phone back into her pocket. “When’s the wedding?” Kenny adds, his laugh thundering. Owen lets out an airy laugh while Jeremy gets up again, the two of them rejoining the rest of the group. Y/N just knows this day will forever be the best day of her life. She just knows it’s going to be her favorite day ever for so many reasons; the laughs, the jokes, the friendship that’s building between all five of you, but mostly Owen. That night, Y/N goes back to the hotel with them too as Owen had asked her to hang out a little while longer and watch some movies with him. He’d asked the others too, but they were ‘too tired’. That’s an excuse Y/N could see from a mile away. They just wanted to give the two of them some quality time, which she appreciated very much. “I had the best day,Bubba,” she mumbles as she snuggles closer to him. She has her head on his chest whilst his arm is draped around her shoulders. It almost feels as though they’ve been doing this for years. “Me too, Baby Girl. Thanks for showing us around.” He presses a kiss to her hair, inhaling the luscious scent of peach, and deciding that’s his new favorite scent from now on. “Sucks we’re leaving tomorrow night,” he mumbles sadly. “Yeah… I know…” The words come out of her mouth in a whisper. “Wonder when we’ll see each other again.” She’d forgotten for a split second about him being able to hear her thoughts until he answers the half-statement with another question. “Will you come visit Norman Oklahoma soon?” She looks up at him, her nose grazing his stubbled chin, causing him to look down. “I really don’t wanna go another three years without seeing you, Gorgeous. I don’t think I can handle that, especially now that I’ve learned you’re a great cuddler.” Y/N chuckles at that before resettling on his chest properly. “I think I can make something work next month?” She starts tracing the patterns of his shirt, sending shivers down Owen’s spine at the sheer touch of her delicate fingers. “I think I can miss a few classes.” The chuckle that escapes past his lips, makes his chest vibrate and zooms into her ears, making her mouth curl up. This is the best feeling in the world; cuddling up with Owen and hearing him laugh. It’s a feeling Y/N wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. She wishes she could just stay like this forever. Or at least until the next day. Y/N has classes to get to, but promises Owen to come and say goodbye to him and the others at JFK airport around 8pm that night. And she does, though dreading it entirely. “You made it,” Owen whispers when he sees her walk up to the group. “Of course, I couldn’t just let you go back to Van City without saying goodbye, could I?” A tender smile plays at his lips as he takes her into a tight hug. “Have a safe flight, yeah? And talk to me on the plane if you’re bored.” She tells him and then turns to the three other men she’d just met yesterday. “Take good care of him and each other,” she tells them before taking each into a hug. Owen then offers her a nervous smile when she makes it back to his side. “Hey, you okay?” she asks, grabbing his hand in hers. “No,” her eyebrows furrow at his unspoken confession. “Yes, I mean yes. I’m fine. I’m okay… I just--” he cuts himself off, not knowing what to tell the girl now. “I’m just gonna miss you, is all.” “Oh…” is all she brings out, wanting something else to come out of his mouth. “I’m gonna miss you too, Big O.” She playfully punches his shoulder, smiling up at him with that smile that’s only ever reserved for Owen. It’s a tender one where her eyes sparkle as much as her smile. Owen then grabs her other hand too, pulling her a little closer as though he wants to say something serious. Y/N isn’t used to a serious Owen. He’d always be the one to pull pranks or make stupid jokes that’d make her laugh until her belly ached. He stutters and stumbles over a couple of words, then sighs frustratedly as he can’t seem to find the right words to tell her what he’s feeling. He can’t even find the right words to think. “Just kiss her, you dork!” Charlie shouts from the sidelines. Y/N turns her head to look at the boy confusedly, but Owen’s hands quickly cup her face and brings her up to press his lips on hers. She’s a little startled at first, unsure about what’s happening. But then she melts into his lips and into him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long!” his thought comes through in her mind, making her smile against his lips. “Shut up, I’m kissing you.” He chuckles at her words, and pulls away but keeps his forehead pressed to hers. “I’ll see you in a month, Bubba,” Y/N whispers and pecks his lips once more. Though she hates to see him go, she has to let him leave. She has to let him get back to Vancouver and Oklahoma, and then she can see him again in about a month. It’s just how this must go. For now. “I’d rather stay, actually,” he tells her as he pulls away slowly. “Owen…” Y/N whispers, shaking her head, “Don’t make this harder than it already is. They need you in Vancouver…” she nods at Kenny and the guys. “I want you to stay, I do. But they need you.” A single tear rolls down her cheek. Owen reaches up and wipes it away as quickly as it came whilst shaking his head. “I’m gonna stay, Y/N. Just two more days.” He sounds too determined for her to convince him to go. “We don’t actually need him for two more days anyway, so he’s free to stay if he wants to,” Kenny chimes in. Y/N looks at the man talking, a surprised look on her face. The legend himself shoots her a smile. “Stay, Owen. Spend some more time together. You both need it.” “Thanks, Kenny,” Owen takes the guy in for a quick hug, and then turns to his buddies to give each of them one too. “I’ll see you in two days, then.” The couple watches as the three men walk away, their arms wrapped tightly around each other. “You really had to be dramatic, did you?” Y/N jokes once they’re out of earshot, which earns her an eye roll from Owen, though he can’t hide a smile either. “You know me, Baby Girl,” he winks before grabbing his bag. “Yes, I do,” she says, “And I’m glad I do.” “Me too, Gorgeous, me too.”

Taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon @caitsymichelle13 @calamitykaty @wiselight

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #jatp #owen patrick joyner #owen joyner #owen x reader #alex jatp #charlie gillespie #luke patterson #jeremy shada #reggie jatp #kenny ortega #soulmate au #jatp fandom #jatp au #jatp imagine

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wordsinwinters · 4 years ago

Text

Then Again, Part 26 (Peter Parker x Reader)

Masterlist (with AO3 links)

Total word count: 50,293

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25,

Summary: After an intense argument and a forced-to-share-the-bed situation during their junior year decathlon trip, Peter and the Reader examine their faults and failings. As they attempt to fix their mistakes and improve their friendship, that friendship quickly begins to evolve into something else.

Slow burn fic in which all characters are included and their dynamics explored; multiple character POVs.

Betas: @girl-tips-from-satan and @fanboyswhereare-you

A/N: This isn’t my favorite chapter, but it’s been sitting in my drafts for over a year and I figured if I don’t post it now, I’ll never move on to the next. Additionally, as always, I live for feedback. 😉

Without further ado,

Then Again Part 26:

(Words: 2,825)

The bus ride will probably get boring soon, or at least as long as the girls stay asleep, but even as quiet as it is, it’s almost a perfect morning. Being early (around 6:00, I think?), there’s barely any light except street lamps and car lights, but some of the clouds on the right have caught a pretty bluish purple tinge. It reminds me of that Rainbow Fish book Aunt May used to read to me as a kid. To make it better, the morning air is chilly enough that the driver turned the heaters on low so it’s wrapped-in-a-blanket-while-it-snows warm in here. Although that also might be why, apart from general dirt and old gum, the strongest smell on the bus is salty grease— since the nearest heater is under the seat Flash spilled french fries and chicken nuggets in yesterday. It could be worse, though. I mean, it’s not necessarily a bad smell and the traffic isn’t horrible. It’s not the best, but it could definitely be louder and a lot slower. The field of flowing red tail lights ahead of us is oddly comforting, like a snail-slow pasture of mechanical color.

All in all, it’s a pretty cozy start for a dreaded five hour bus ride. It’s giving me quiet time to think. So that’s where I’m at. Or should be. I got some stuff organized in my head last night even if I keep getting distracted now. Well, it was more like a couple hours ago, since I wasn’t able to get to sleep for so long after we said goodnight. But anyway, I’m trying to focus. It’s just hard, even with both of them sleeping.

From my and Ned’s spot behind them, watching the girls’ heads gently shake and bump against each other as the bus shudders through potholes is kind of calming. They seem so peaceful from this angle, like two people who’ve never pranked me and Ned to the point we were nearly suspended, or kept us awake and annoyed by asking paradoxical hypothetical questions because they know how Ned and I will argue for days if we don’t agree on an answer, or anything else like that. It’s like finding two mischievous cats sleeping, curled up on a chair. It’s easier to appreciate them when they aren’t causing chaos. But it’s not that hard to appreciate them when they are anyway.

Though Ned and I won’t admit it when they’re fully awake, seeing their heads smack into the seat in front of them each time the bus lurched to a halt at stoplights (during the first ten minutes after they’d fallen asleep) was funnier than it should’ve been. Even knowing then that we wouldn’t mention it later didn’t stop us from exchanging silent laughs when they leaned back up, muttering unintelligible complaints before settling their heads back onto one another. For the last couple stoplights before the highway, at least, we decided to be better friends. We both stood up with one leg on the floor and one knee on our own seat so we could easily hold their foreheads back each time it happened. Again, I wouldn’t admit this out loud, even to Ned, but it’s a little bit funny that Ned was a split second slower than me, so while I kept catching MJ’s head before the stop, he half-smacked Y/N’s forehead, like a really-close-to-the-floor basketball dribble, and made a wincing face each time. A lot of times. But it did stop her from colliding with the seat, and she didn’t wake up or complain.

As nice as it is with them and almost everyone else sleeping through the dark, quiet first hour of the bus trek back to New York, I am excited for her and MJ to wake up. Whenever that is. I’ve missed them.

But anyway, I really need to focus. God. I’m not doing a great job of that this morning. Apparently. So I’m focusing now. It’s like Ned said. I need to be honest with myself.

Okay.

Alright.

No distractions.

I’m going to set myself straight now, before we get back, so I can make a game plan and be more decisive and make less mistakes. Fewer? Yeah, fewer mistakes. She’s told me that half a dozen times this since she read that grammar book last summer. But that’s not important.

If I’m being honest... I think I’ve avoided the real possibility that things could work out between us because it felt too risky. And I make some dumb, impulsive choices. So that’s saying a lot. If she said no, what’s the worst that could happen? May and Ned have been asking me that for months, and it’s been so frustrating. The answer should be obvious. The worst thing wouldn’t be the rejection, it’d be if it made her uncomfortable and she broke off our friendship. Or, even if she stuck around, if our friendship changed and I had to watch her get more and more distant, knowing it was my fault and nothing would ever go back to normal.

Those were the worst — and, I thought, most probable — possibilities. For months I’ve been certain that if anything changed, everything would, and it’d all go to shit. So I kept dodging it. And dodging her before the trip. But, then, things did change this weekend. Things are changing. We fought, and it was super shitty and awful and a total nightmare fiasco, but we made up. And she seemed almost as relieved as me when we did. Now we even have this pact about spending more time together. I know it’s officially only in the name of friendship, but something’s… different. I feel it, and I think she does too. And it doesn’t seem bad. That’s the craziest part. I mean, she even kissed me last night. On the cheek, but still. “Keep it.” Maybe May’s not ridiculous: she really might feel the same way.

I’ve been texting her this morning, actually. Aunt May. I had to admit that I’m happy she forced me to do the forehead kiss thing last night. As annoyed as I was that she and Ned ganged up on me like that, I can’t dispute the results. She kissed me! Kind of. (To be fair, she did hit my mouth a little bit even if it was an accident.) At first it made me wonder if she heard any of Ned’s shout-comments before I could turn the t.v. up to cover what he was saying. But I doubt it. Even if she felt the same way, I know her too well to think she wouldn’t freak out more and enough that it’d be noticable. Yeah, no, I’d definitely have been able to tell if she’d heard him saying things like, “Nobody’s saying you have to tell her that you googled the probability of high school sweethearts getting married that time she saved your ass on that Bronte essay, but yeah, Aunt May’s right! Just ask her to come over and either talk to her or do the hair/forehead thing!” Anyway, May’s on board with her coming over a lot this week and next week and giving us some space. So are Ned and MJ. Ned said they agreed on giving us two weeks (starting tomorrow) without them hanging out after school. And who knows, if the dance goes really well, maybe it’ll be normal for us to hang out, just us, without the whole group. Because… well, I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself.

I’ll admit, they’re the best friends I could ever have. All three of them.

And it’s nice to have them all here now, Ned to my left and the girls in front of us. It’s even nicer to be outside of class or the city or crazy study sessions and have had a short breather from all that (despite the shitshow before we smoothed things over and could enjoy it). To be somewhere chill together. Yesterday and today probably feel even better because the last few days, or even weeks… no— months, if I’m being honest— have had me in a kind of less than happy place. But that’s over now. We’re all here and things are finally good. I just wish the girls would wake up, especially since Ned’s back on his phone. Again.

Yesterday, everybody hung out for most of the afternoon, but being in the whole decathlon group isn’t the same as just being the four of us. Or two.

Speaking of two— Ned being away during this next week or two is going to make everything so… unfiltered. New. Without his interference and being able to talk to him as often as normal, it’ll mostly just be her and me. Nobody to distract attention or blame stuff on or help me out when I’m doing something dumb (which is often). Like, for example, last night when I maybe let my excitement get the better of me and I might’ve jumped on the bed and thrown a pillow that accidentally broke the lamp on the nightstand. While I don’t really think writing that “Bill Mr. Harrington” note with the school’s address was Ned’s best idea, it helped me not care too much, enough that I didn’t do something dumber like actually tell Mr. Harrington. It might come back to bite us, though. Still, he was genuinely helpful this morning when Flash showed up too.

While we were hanging out in the girls’ room waiting for them to finish packing, there was a knock on the door. I figured it was Mr. Harrington about to yell at me and Ned for the broken lamp, so I motioned to Ned to shut up and move closer to the head of the bed we were already sitting on where, courtesy of the wall between the bedroom and bathroom, he wouldn’t be able to see us as long as he stayed by the doorway. MJ gave us an odd glance before she got up to answer it. Her annoyed, “What are you doing here?” didn’t immediately disqualify Mr. Harrington, but the sound of Flash’s voice saying, “I, uh, brought you guys some muffins,” made me tense at the first syllable.

“The free muffins they give us for breakfast?”

MJ’s dripping sarcasm nearly made me laugh even though I couldn’t see her, but Y/N turning from her suitcase and walking over to join them killed it still in my throat.

“Nope,” he said. “They’re fancy muffins from a bakery a few miles away.”

I wanted to roll my eyes out of my skull.

She may not like him, but that doesn’t mean I was wrong about him being into her. What a dumb way to impress someone. “Fancy muffins.”

“Expensive?” MJ asked. Even without seeing her face, I could tell she was giving him the squint death stare. It’s scary to have to respond to that face if you don’t know what the right answer is.

“Yes, especially with the delivery fee,” he said, sounding prepared for the question, “but they’re from a small local place, not a chain, which I figured you guys would appreciate. Actually, I think you’d like the woman who owns it, she was super grouchy and hard to convince.”

“Convince?”

“They don’t normally deliver at 5 in the morning.”

“Oh, so you thought you could just—”

“What kind did you get?”

That’s one of the things I like about Y/N. She knows how to manage tempers and when to jump in; she has Flash and MJ down to a science. In that moment, though, I wanted MJ to fire her most confrontational questions at him with no mercy.

“Well, they’re all apology muffins—” I heard MJ scoff. Exactly. She gets it. “But I got blueberry, chocolate, obviously, coffee, cranberry orange, maple, I think that one has chicken in it or something, and banana nut.”

Ned and I turned towards each other with silent smirks at the last one. It’s a dumb joke, but under normal circumstances we’d never resist—

“Cool. Since you’ve brought so many, you can come in.”

Sometimes MJ drives me up the wall. This was one of those times.

I mentally took back my agreement with her scoff.

The three of them came into the room, and for a couple seconds, Flash didn’t see us. The girls were closer to the window than they were to the wall and the bed Ned and I were sitting on, and he didn’t look behind him. Until MJ pointed us out directly.

“You can give them some too,” she said, her expression bordering on smug. “Apology muffins, right?”

Flash froze for a second. I straightened my back. Neither Ned or I said anything.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded. “Of course.”

Surprisingly, he shook his shoulders like a bug just buzzed by his head and walked over, opening a giant rectangle of a box up to us.

“Take however many you guys want.”

I stared at him, not moving. Nobody flinched. Then I realized he was tapping the side of the box with his thumb. Not in an asshole come on, hurry up way, but in an anxious way. Just as I started to reach toward the box, Y/N asked:

“Why’d you get so many of the coffee ones?”

Flash looked away at just the right second.

Did I technically cave first by reaching into the box? Yes. But did anyone see? No.

Although, I guess he technically caved by offering us the muffins in the first place. Ha. All the same, I took a blueberry one.

“They’re my dad’s favorite. I wanted to surprise him, you know? But I can’t even get a hold of.... Um, are your guys’ parents going to pick you up when we get there, or are you actually staying for school?”

“Staying.”

“All of you?”

He looked around to ask all of us, even me and Ned. We all nodded. When he looked at me, though, his eyes twitched. It’s a face I’ve gotten a lot before. He realized he said parents.

“You said these are orange cranberry?” Ned asked, pointing.

Flash nodded.

“They’re solid, though the banana nut ones are probably the best.”

As I said, under normal circumstances, like if one of the girls had said it, I would’ve laughed right then, but I’m not used to laughing around Flash. Ned, who usually follows that same rule, shook his head and grinned, if a little bit... nervously?

“Hell no!” he said, pretending to be mildly outraged. “I’m not eating banana-bust-a-nut muffins.”

A second surprise: Flash tilted his head and paused, clearly as stunned to be told a joke by Ned as the rest of us were to witness it— and laughed. So did everyone else. It was only for a few seconds, like literally three quick seconds, but for the first time for as long as I can remember, all of us were laughing with Flash. It stopped almost as soon as it started.

Tension crept back in soon so he left pretty quickly after that with an awkward, “See you guys in a few.” Thank god.

The girls finished tidying their room and going over the homework that’s due today (which we did last week since we knew we’d never get it done on the trip), before forcing me and Ned into the hallway so Mr. Harrington wouldn’t need to check our room for us and potentially find the broken lamp.

And then, pretty soon, we ended up on the warm bus, loaded in with everyone else. It seemed like everybody but Ned and I were too quiet and sleepy and squinty to be able to talk much before dozing off or staring blankly out the window or scrolling social media on their phones, the latter two options leading to the first in most cases. At this point, I think Ned, Flash, and I are the only ones still awake.

I’m going to work at tolerating him. As long as he doesn’t cross any lines with anybody from now on, I won’t bait him either. (Admittedly, I’ve been guilty of that, especially recently.) I mean, his comment about his dad was hard to miss. And even when he said it, it wasn’t a shock. Everyone in our grade at some point has had to listen to Flash’s rambling excuses for his parents ignoring or forgetting to show up for school events. Maybe being a dick is just hereditary for him. Or a family tradition.

I don’t remember how I got so off track. Where was I before? Oh yeah. Risk. Possibilities. The almost-worst case scenario that turned out not so bad. It’s been a messy weekend with plenty of re-evaluating, but the point is simple: I think I’ve got to give a few new things a try, and I’m excited to have a chance over the next couple weeks.

Next update: God only knows.

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voidcat · 4 years ago

Text

– a case of bad luck

2. a deal (with the devil)

m.list ; prev ; next ; wc: 2.1k

a/n: society if i could w r i t e,,, anwyays i feel im making mafia dazai ooc? i hope not, ive just began the light novels dsfdg uh yea i'll probs update once a week (depends on how often i can write)

Insisting he leaves you off at the station, you let out a breath of relief for the first time in hours. Unsure he may still be following, you change directions few times, walk fast and use shortcuts only locals of the neighbourhoods know to get him off your track. Just in case.

The next day he doesn’t show up, neither does he the day after. Not knowing how to feel or what to think about this, because there is no way he will let you slide off this easily, you do your best to resist the relief.

And soon later, it blurs back in your head, like smoke dissolving, like a bad dream.

But the unease never leaves. Neither does the feeling of being watched.

Then one lunch break, your eyes get fixed on a spot by the sidewalk and you can swear it’s the same clothes, the bandages, the posture and the look and everything crashes down back on you again. You do your best to linger and change directions as many times as you can on the way home that evening. Nothing goes wrong that night, or the day after or the day after that. If the false of sense peace were to go for few more days, you think you’ll forget all that happened again, too focused on school or whatever your friends recently bringing up.

A bell to mark the school hours ending, walking outside, caught up in whatever you’re discussing and he just stands there, like it’s nothing, like he belongs to his peer group, missing some of the bandages you saw on his face before, clothes not sticking out like you thought they would.

He stands there and smiles your way.

You think, you’ve never wanted to punch someone in your life as you do in this very moment. Just to erase that smile off his face.

In your view, he only gets bigger with each step, the flock of students you’re stuck in only walking towards where he waits and you look around for a way to sneak out but nada! Nothing! And your friends have grown suspiciously quieter than the usual. Stealing glances from one another and from you, the snicker like they’re sharing this little surprise for you.

Shorter than calculated, you find yourself standing right in front of him.

No words on his end and the expecting looks on you make the air tense.

“Hi… Dazai!” You say at one point, fake enthusiasm clear, not that they seem to mind nor realize. “What brings you here?”

“I was just in the city as you see. And decided, what better time to surprise an old friend than now?” The smile vanishes for a moment, the forced school play act making you want to roll your eyes but he puts a hand on your shoulder suddenly, you wince and shake his hand off, and he continues. “So, have you got the time to show me around and catch up?”

“Do I have a choice?” Followed by a dry laugh, you look back to your friends who only seem satisfied, makes you wonder what kind of lie he sold before he got here. His smile grows wider in reply.

You sigh and start to walk by his side, taking a step a second later than him to keep a distance and to see where you’re headed.

“What did you tell them exactly?” your curiosity takes the best of you as you reach a traffic light.

A little ‘huh?’ coming from him, he turns back to glance at you, the sun behind his head makes his height apparent. The short lived look of asking he gives you dies as he tilts his head “I only told them a cliché story, assumed they’d fall for cheesy scenarios such as that.”

Red turns green.

You take a step by his side, no more following behind. “Which is?..”

“That we were old friends with a shared history of potential intimacy and I wanted to take you out now that we are back together again!” He says it like it’s so usual.

The two of you reach the pavement and continue to walk, never faltering.

Letting your eyes linger on him for a while, you turn your gaze back on the streets as the sense of familiarity begins to vanish. “I didn’t take you for the romcom type.” You say at last as you stop.

“I’m not.” He doesn’t spare a glance this time. “I just know someone who likes them.”

The number of people around decrease with each step, the air gets colder –maybe it’s your nerves. The light starts to fade and not a word has been spoken for quite some time. Not that either of you were dying for some get-to-one-another.

When he speaks again, you don’t hear it at first. “Your ability-”

You halt with a stomp of your foot. “I don’t have one.”

He narrows his eyes in annoyance, “Your ability must be based on some form of speech, as Akutagawa served a good example that night.”

The name barely rings a bell in your memory.

“Question is, what kind of speech it requires? Does it rhyme, should commands work, shall it be sang, like a siren?”

“These are all excellent questions, except for one big missing piece…” you answer. The mention of something missing seems to get his attention. “…That I do not have an ability.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he huffs, the ever growing annoyance levels can tell alone you’re pushing the little bit of luck you have.

“Then how did Akutagawa pass out exactly?” hands back under his coat.

“There was blood on him? Maybe he’s sick? He definitely looked the part.” You say as more of a suggestion than an answer.

“The men inside the building. The one with his internal organs out.” Words get colder with each breathe.

Yours fade as his grow colder, “Maybe the other captured guy did it?”

“You don’t sound sure, weren’t you right next to him?” suspicion of a knowing parent hinted in his voice almost, he already must’ve figured it all out that night.

“I…” the pavement looks gray, stones crooked, countless fights must’ve gone through here before.

“I don’t know.” From the edge that connects the floor to the walls, you try inspecting each dull color behind the lifeless filter, not acknowledging him standing there doesn’t feel any safer but it’s preferable to those eyes.

His lips don’t move but the ‘You don’t know?’ is heavy in the air.

“I don’t know! I don’t remember!” someone’s yelling reaches your ears. “I just!-“

The yelling was yours, your arms fall back, go back up and you hold yourself, “I was… singing? To calm down… And the rest is just a blur.”

When you look up, he looks as disinterested. You consider yelling, asking for an explanation, what he’s thinking; it’s not that hard to piece it all, you think, but this demeanor rubs you the wrong way. The longer the silence goes, the eerier it becomes, the emptiness of the alley you’re standing in stands out. The lack of people, noise, light, it’d almost crash down on you if it wasn’t soin the open ever since he showed up.

“The words you spoke to Akutagawa. Are they from a song?”

“The ‘go to sleep’ you mean?” you finger quote the lyric, “it’s from Beach Life In-“ you stop with a shake of your head, “it’s from a song, yes.”

When you look again, it feels like an adult waiting for a child to connect the dots in front of them, like you’re the only one in the world who hasn’t figured it out already.

“But it makes no sense.” Hands on hips, eyes focused on a pebble near your foot, “I mean- it’s not like I haven’t sung before?” You turn then, start to pace, a hand on your forehead to push back the few strands brushing against your forehead.

It starts to warm up, or feels like it, each strand of hair just there, existing, leaving its weight on you, tickling, annoying, bothering; suffocating-

He cannot be right, can he?

Sure, self-awareness can change for each person but something so important as an ability shouldn’t be missed that easily… being a stranger to yourself when a stranger figured it out in mere seconds- it’s ridiculous, it simply doesn’t make sense, he must be wrong or confuse you with someone else, how can it be that bad, how can my perception be that bad, what else did I miss if all this is true and happening-

“Despite how the Port Mafia appears,” his voice pulls you out of your head, “ability users is not such a common occurrence. And surely the ability to affect your surroundings, or make people act certain ways is one we cannot let go of.”

I should drink some water, a part of you says when you gulp at his implications, ‘we cannot let go’ just gets out of his mouth and stays right in front of you, in bold jet black letters.

“What you should ask yourself is if you felt anything during all these times of singing…” silence feels enough of an answer, hyped up or not there isn’t much to feel, much to wish for. “Or if the words you snag back then were for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” “What did you feel that night?”

“Typical fight or flight response? Adrenaline, instinct to survive?”

“Stop assuming and start being more confident.” (like that night) a part of you yells, in his voice, though his is devoid of any emotion. You don’t want to learn how he sounds when he yells.

“I wanted to get out.” You try again. “Not to survive but to avoid death or whatever was awaiting me until that.” Sounds more like you, you straighten your back. “I didn’t want to stay any longer to see what they’d do to me so I found a way out.” He almost seems pleasant to hear the change in you, maybe it’s time to surprise him a little more.

“So let’s say,” you start pacing again, less like rambling and more like an animal circling, not a prey but a threat, because that’s what he is, what he has been and will be, “that I have an ability that I can use only when my emotional capacity is at a certain level… why would a mafia executive want me to have a better understanding of it?”

The radius decreasing with each step, you end your steps right in front of his face “what makes you think I won’t use it, right now, on you?” each pause between the words to make it clear this is a threat, no more of the power balance he held over you for too long. Your back to the beginning of the alley, you’re ready, in case he is one of them –if not, he might still have a gun.

He doesn’t falter, not a hair on him moves. Until he chuckles, at you and your words.

The vibration in his voice, nor the laughter reach his eyes.

“There are quite a few reasons why this won’t do, like how you cannot use it.”

The confidence in his voice makes the truth more unbearable.

“And besides, even if you managed to use it, it wouldn’t take me long to stop you.”

“Are you that fast?”

“Are you?”

This marks the end of it, as much as it pains to admit he is right, a part of you doesn’t want it, doesn’t feel the same sense of danger and survival to run away.

And regardless of all the threat he possesses, he doesn’t seem all too willing to get rid of you.

Rolling your eyes, you turn and walk away to the blinking store lights from the street. A second set of footsteps catch up to you in few long strides.

“So what is this then? You’re going to help me use my ability and leave me in debt?” reaching the traffic lights, you step onto the road without batting an eye.

“Why would I agree to something like that?” the car drives by, almost brushing your back. The sun has begun to set already, the colors mixing together.

The wind carries away his words but you catch them just in time: “You have a family and a cat, don’t you?”

You stop and look up. “Not a cloud in sight. Was it a sign of a rainy day to follow?” ignore the implications, don’t think about the faces. “A cloudy day perhaps, I always mix up the tells of the sky.”

“I’ll be around.” And he leaves with that.

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dontcare77ghj · 4 years ago

Text

Witches

Natasha x reader x Bucky

Wanda Maximoff was young. Only sixteen and she had now joined the Avengers. But the team had noticed that there was something different about the girl, and not just the fact she had gifts from an infinity stone. There was something almost magical about the girl.

"Okay, sit down," Bucky said to the girl after an incident with flying teacups.

"I promise I didn't mean it," Wanda said, refusing to look at anyone. "I didn't know I was using my powers, I thought I was getting better at using them. I don't even know how I did it."

"Wanda, we're not mad at you," Natasha promised, taking the younger girls' hand in her own. "And we think you were using a different type of power."

"What kind of power?" Tony asked the redhead.

"Magick," Bucky answered.

"Before you say anything," Natasha cut Tony off. "Know we're not joking. Wanda, we think you might be a witch. We're not sure if anyone else in your family has the gift or if you're the first, but we're positive you're a witch. We've spoken to someone, and they're willing to teach you everything you need to know."

"And you know Wanda's a witch because you already know one witch?" Bruce asked.

"Intimately." Bucky nodded. "Our girlfriend is a witch."

"Girlfriend?" Tony spoke up. "The two of you have a girlfriend? Why have we never met her? Why did we never know about this?"

"Speak for yourself, Stark," Clint smirked. "Steve and I already have met her."

"We all prefer our privacy," Natasha told him. "These two have only met her because we had to take them to the house during a mission."

"And because you love us." Clint cut in.

"But, we've spoken to Y/N, and she'll be more than happy to help you, Wanda," Bucky said, still looking at the younger woman. "You have more power than you know. And Y/N wants to help and to explain anything she can to you."

"But it is your choice," Natasha told her. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"I would be able to control my powers? And no-one will get hurt?" Wanda asked the two. "I'd stop being dangerous?"

"You're not dangerous," Clint said firmly. "And you never will be."

"Clint's right." Natasha agreed, squeezing the girl's hand. "You're not dangerous. You just haven't been taught how to use this, but you can learn."

"I want to be able to control this." Wanda nodded. "I want to learn. How soon can I start?"

"Tomorrow, if you want." Bucky smiled at the girls' resolve. "Pack a bag and board the jet now. We'd be home for lunch."

"Really?" Wanda asked with wide eyes.

"Really, really." Natasha smiled. "And Clint's volunteered to come with just in case you decide it's not for you, and you want to come home."

"I think I should come too," Tony said. "I need to know what needs to be added to the Tower, after all."

Though Tony tried to play it off, everyone knew why he truly wanted to come along. Since arriving at the Tower, Wanda had gained two new father figures. Clint was the father figure of the team, but he'd stepped it up for the girl. And while Tony may not appear to be a father figure to most people, he had quickly taken Wanda under his wing.

"Okay." Bucky nodded. "Steve, Bruce, do you want to come?"

"I have a mission tomorrow," Steve told him. "But give Y/N my best."

"I would love to meet her, but I'm leaving for a conference in the afternoon," Bruce explained.

"Alright then," Natasha started, clapping her hands as she stood. "The five of us will leave for the house tonight. Get your bags packed, we leave in an hour." She added, taking Bucky's hand and pulling him out of the room.

"Are you okay with this?" Bucky asked, watching as Natasha packed a few last minute things.

"I'm the one who suggested this, Buck." Natasha reminded him.

"When you thought it'd be us, Wand, and Clint. Tony's a new player." Bucky said.

"Tony's family, Buck. We both knew the rest of the team would one day find out about our life. We also knew they'd probably meet Y/N after that." Natasha shrugged. "Do you have a problem with Tony coming?"

"No." Bucky shook his head. "Stark's not that bad, and honestly, I think he's going to get along well with Y/N."

"Those two could take over the world with their combined intellect." Natasha chuckled. "Come on, finish packing. We're leaving soon. I want to get home as soon as we can." She said, kissing the man.

Reader POV

Patience was an old friend. Patience was there during school, during the war, and now patience was there as you waited for your partners.

You'd been sitting in the living room since dawn. Sleep had eluded you as your excitement kicked in. You hadn't seen Natasha or Bucky in seven months. Every time they planned to come home, there was another work emergency that couldn't be handled without them.

Yes, it could be argued this was another work emergency, but that was a mere technicality.

They were coming home.

It was half-past twelve when you heard the tell-tale sounds of an arriving jet. A grin crossed your face as you raced onto the porch. You didn't wait for Natasha or Bucky to join you on the porch as you sprinted across the lawn the second you saw them.

Bucky saw you first and dropped his bags before opening his arms. Propelling yourself forward, you jumped into his embrace and wrapped your legs around his waist.

"I missed you so much." You sighed before kissing the man.

"Missed you too, doll." Bucky smiled, kissing you again.

"You're hogging nasha malen'kaya ved'ma," Natasha complained, putting her arm around your waist and pulling you off Bucky.

"I was just about to come to you." You smiled as she wrapped her arms around you. "I missed you too." You said, quickly connecting your lips.

"That's my girl," Natasha smirked, keeping you close even after you pulled apart.

"Were we supposed to look away for all of that?" Clint asked, suddenly announcing his presence.

"Have you no tack, Tweety?" You grinned, moving to hug the archer. "Of course, you were supposed to look away."

"I'll remember that next time." Clint chuckled.

"Y/N, this is Tony Stark," Natasha introduced you. "He can be a bit of an ass." She smirked as you shook his hand.

"We all know you love my ass," Tony quipped.

"And this is Wanda Maximoff." Natasha continued, turning you to the girl who was shyly standing behind others.

"Oh honey," You smiled, stepping towards her and pulling her into a gentle hug. "It is so nice to meet you."

"You as well," Wanda said, cheeks bright red.

"Well, come on you lot. It's cold out here and warm inside." You said, taking Wanda's hand and leading her and the others inside. "Okay, rooms." You clapped your hands, leading the group upstairs. "Clint, you still have clothes in your room from last time. Tony, you'll be in here and, Wanda, this is your room."

"There's a full bathroom here and another downstairs," Bucky told them, throwing his bag into your shared room.

"You have breakable items in there." Natasha sighed, placing her bag gently by the door.

"Why don't the three of you get settled?" You suggested. "I'll call you all down for lunch when it's ready."

"Thanks, Y/n." Clint nodded, moving into his room.

"He'll be asleep in five minutes," Natasha smirked as Tony also went into his room.

"Would you like any help with lunch?" Wanda asked, standing in her doorway.

"Thank you for the offer, Wanda, but you're our guest." You smiled at her. "Go get settled. Lunch will be ready soon."

"Okay." Wanda nodded before stepping into her room.

"You two should get some rest too." You said to your partners. "You've been flying all night."

"And miss spending time with our favorite doll?" Bucky scoffed.

"Not a chance," Natasha smirked as Bucky threw you over his shoulder. "To the kitchen." She smiled, leading the way.

"You two are ridiculous sometimes." You sighed, smile plastered to your face.

"You love us," Bucky said, putting you on your feet in the kitchen.

"I do. I really do love you two." You said, leaning up to kiss the man. "I missed you." You murmured as you pulled apart.

"We missed you too, dorogoy," Natasha said, pulling you into her embrace. "Seven months is too long."

"I told you we should've just snuck home," Buck complained, beginning to pull out items of food.

"And had the team follow us? No, thank you." Natasha snorted.

"The two of you are home now, and you're both safe and sound. That's all I can ask for." You said, attempting to pull out of her arms. "Nat, I have to help Buck." You giggled.

"Buck's fine. It's been too long since I've had you in my arms." She said into your neck.

"Sorry, Buck looks like you're cooking on your own." You told the man. "I'm stuck." You smiled, leaning back into Natasha's grip.

"I wish I thought of that," Bucky said, putting his hair up. "Great plan Tash."

"How come you don't cook at the tower, Barnes?" Clint asked, piling food onto his plate. "This is so good."

"I cook for Tash at the tower." Bucky shrugs. "Cook for yourself."

"Y/N make Barnes cook for me," Clint whined.

"Hush up, Clint. Or I'll cut off your caffeine supply." You threatened, taking a seat next to Wanda.

"You didn't tell me you're girlfriend is evil." Tony gasped.

"Calm down Stark, she wouldn't do it." Natasha calmed the man, smiling as Wanda giggled. "She's as much a caffeine addict as you are."

"How dare you sully my name." You gasped, hitting Natasha's arm. "Now, Wanda, did these two explain anything more than you just being a witch?" You asked the girl as she served herself.

"Not really." She shook her head.

"Good, they would've screwed up the explanation." You told her.

"Love you too, doll." Bucky rolled his eyes from his seat next to Clint.

"Buck, you still call my wand a stick." You pointed out. "And you used my cauldron for soup."

"That was one time," Bucky grumbled.

"Anyway, we have all the time in the world Wanda. What do you want to know?" You asked the girl.

"How come I didn't know I was a witch? Why did no-one ever tell me?" The girl asked after a second.

"Well, the most likely explanation for why you weren't told is you're a muggle-born,"

"What's a muggle?" Tony interrupted.

"Well, you are. A muggle is what we call non-magic folk. A muggle-born is a witch or wizard born from muggle parents. Like Wanda, and like me." You told him. "And in a normal situation, you wouldn't have been left in the dark. You would have received a letter from your ministry and a visit from a school official. You would have received a full education and graduated with full control." You explained to the girl.

"But why didn't I get that? Why was I left in the dark?" Wanda persisted.

"Do you want the abridged version or long? Neither are too great a story." You chuckled without humor.

"On what kind of scale?" Tony questioned.

"On par with New York," Natasha told him.

"I'd say pick the abridged version. Otherwise, we'll be here for a long time." You suggested.

"Alright then, the abridged version it is." Wanda nodded.

"Well, 17 years ago, there was a war in our world." You began with a deep breath. "It was the second rising of a man named Tom Riddle. Tom was a blood supremacist and wanted to eradicate people like Wanda and me."

"Why would he want to do that?" Tony asked you.

"Our world is split into three categories, and one of them is a group called purebloods. They don't have muggles in their bloodline, and they think they're better than us." You explained. "Tom took these beliefs to the next level. He started this cult following that for years, murdered innocent muggles and muggle-borns alike. No-one thought it would end. A seer had a prophecy about a boy who would be born with the power that Tom would not know and would be able to destroy him.

His name is Harry. Harry Potter. And he's my friend. In 1999, the two of us and our friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger ran away and spent a year running around Britan trying to find Tom's Horcruxes."

"What's a Horcrux?" Wanda asked you.

"It is one of the darkest forms of magic our world knows. It's a ritual that involves the murder of an innocent and ends with the person physically separating their soul." You winced, squeezing Natasha's hand tightly.

"Why would anyone want to do that?" Wanda gasped.

"Because without the destruction of a Horcrux, the person can never truly die." You told her. "Tom split his soul into eight parts. What was left in his body was barely human."

"Jesus, Wand, maybe it's better you didn't enter the wizarding world," Tony said.

"That's British culture, Tony. British magical culture is much different from the rest of the world's." You explained. "The culture's so oppressive that I left after the war. I didn't have anything left after Tom, so I packed up and came here. A home I hadn't seen since I was eight."

"That still doesn't explain why nothing was explained to me." Wanda sighed. "If Tom was a British threat, it shouldn't have affected me in Sokovia."

"It shouldn't have." You agreed. "But after Harry defeated Tom, some of his followers ran rouge. They started appearing around the world and causing havoc. A group of them destroyed the Russian ministry about a year after the war, and according to Hermione, they never fully recovered."

"Well, that sucks," Clint said, causing you to chuckle.

"That's definitely one way to put it." You nodded. "But think of the silver lining here. Wizarding schools are decent for the most part, but they don't teach you about society. Don't teach you about what the outside world's like or anything else like that. At least learning with me one on one, you'll be able to ask these types of questions."

"Plus, you won't have to deal with giant snakes or trolls," Bucky said, making you shake your head and Tony and Wanda's eyes widen.

"I always love the troll story," Clint commented. "I thought it was so much better than the man with two heads."

"Where the fuck did you go to school?"

"Wanda seems to really like you," Natasha commented, pulling on one of Bucky's shirt.

"She's a sweet kid." You said from where you laid with Bucky. "I think teaching her's going to be really easy."

"So, should we not be expecting explosions?" Bucky teased.

"That was one time." You whined, cheeks burning.

"You could have died." He pointed out.

"That's a statement for my whole life." You waved him off. "It was a minor fire, and it wasn't even my fault."

"Of course, it wasn't, honey." Natasha cooed, slipping in next to you.

"I missed this." You sighed, relaxing into the warmth around you. "You have no idea how cold it is without the two of you."

"You could just use a warming charm," Bucky suggested.

"Nowhere near as good as the real thing." You told him.

"I can imagine something else that's not as good," Natasha smirked, pressing kisses against your neck.

"I don't know, Nat, it's been seven months since we were all together," You started. "I'm not sure I remember how good it was."

"We can't have that, now can we, baby doll?" Bucky asked, rolling over, so he was atop you.

"That's almost a criminal offense." Natasha teased. "We must rectify this heinous crime."

"I can't do this." Wanda sighed, throwing her wand down.

It had been a week since the group's arrival. The day after they had all arrived, you'd flooed with Wanda down to Diagon Alley.

Old habits died hard.

With Wanda by your side, you led her down the familiar cobblestone streets.

After the war, it had taken years for the street to regain the light and the atmosphere it had from your childhood.

New stores littered the street, seated in between the ones you never thought would leave.

You had bought Wanda books upon books, a cauldron, herbs, everything you could think of before taking her Ollivander's.

Olivander had retired years ago, but the shop still bore his name.

It had taken several wands before Wanda had finally found hers. After thanking the new owner, there was only one more place you wanted to bring the girl.

After all, every witch needed a familiar.

"We've only been at this for a week, Wanda, you can't give up now." You encouraged her.

"Maybe you were all wrong about me. Maybe I don't have magic." Wanda said, refusing to look at you.

"You've been at this a week, and you have learned three spells that aren't easy." You told her, watching as the black cat jumped onto her lap.

"I don't know, Y/N. I'm just not good at this."

"No-one ever starts off great at this. Magic is hard, I know plenty of witches and wizards older than you who can't do a simple summoning spell.

There was a boy in my year who every time he opened his mouth, items exploded. There was another who took five years to learn the disarming spell. Hell, the only classes I was good at were potions and herbology." You told her with a chuckle. "You're doing well for a week in."

"But what if my magic hurts someone?" She whispered. "I already hurt people with my other powers, what if I actually kill someone?"

"Wanda, you know the stories of everyone in that house. You know they've each done things they wish they could take back, but because they can't, they make up for it." You said, moving next to her. "They try to be good. They try to do good."

"What if I turn? What if I can't come back from it?" Wanda asked you.

"Everyone has the means to come back from a poor choice." You told her. "I killed two people in the war." You admitted after a minute.

"Really?" Wanda gasped.

"I did. One was an accident. I only wanted to distract the man during the final battle, so I sent a reducto into a stone wall behind him. The wall fell, and he was crushed."

"But that was an accident." Wanda insisted, taking your hand.

"Perhaps, but the next man wasn't. He was responsible for the deaths of so many people, and he'd almost killed my friends and me.

He snatched the four of us and delivered us to a madwoman. He's the reason I have this," You said, pulling down your sleeve to reveal the word, MUDBLOOD carved into your skin. "After Tom's defeat, we helped round up the last of those who supported him, and I found him.

I saw red. I could only think about how he could have been the reason we died. How he was the reason so many died. And without thinking, I cast the most powerful cutting curse I could. He bled out in under a minute.” You murmured.

“What does it mean?” Wanda asked after a minute, staring intently at the word on your arm.

“It is a derogatory word for people like us.” You responded. “It’s a disgusting term, and I let it control me. I let my fear and anger control me. Wanda what I want you to know is we’ve all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That’s the person we really are.”

Wanda didn’t say anything as she contemplated your words. Fearing she was disgusted with your previous admission you rose to a stand.

“Right, so, if you’re done for today, you can head back inside. I’ll just be in the woods for a minute.” You stuttered, moving to the door.

“Y/N,” Wanda said, causing you to stop and look back. “I’d like to try the spell again, if that’s okay with you?”

“We can try for as long as you want.” You smiled.

“I’m going to have to section off a floor for a greenhouse back home, aren’t I?” Tony asked coming up behind you.

“You’d do anything for that girl and you know it.” You smiled, continuing to watch Wanda on the lawn. Though you were trying to teach the girl as much as you could about every subject she’d taken a clear shine to herbology and divination.

Currently Wanda was on the lawn surrounded by several plants she was enchanting to grow.

“Not wrong.” Tony shrugged. “She looks much more happy than she’s been in weeks. I want to say you’ve had somewhat an influence on her. At least 12%.”

“12%, huh?” You smirked.

“I could agree to 14%.”

“Try 20.” You bargained

“19 and we’ll call it square.” Tony said, putting his hand out.

“Deal. I’m going to teach Wanda something new, want to watch?” You asked him.

“Why not?”

“Okay just swish and flick.” You instructed Wanda. “Excellent.” You smiled as she lifted the couch. “Okay, Nat, where do you want it?”

“By the window, dorogoy.” Natasha said. “Bucky said he wanted more natural light for reading.”

“Okay, Wanda, really slowly you’re going to lower it to the ground.” You told her.

“Fantastic, vozlyublennaya.” Natasha complimented.

“I did it!” Wanda smiled as she finished the spell. “And I didn’t break anything!”

“I knew you wouldn’t.” Natasha said, embracing the girl.

“Why don’t you take a break? You’ve done really well today.” You said, smiling at the two.

“Clint’s in the kitchen making lunch.” Natasha told the girl. “Can you make sure he doesn’t burn it down?”

“You got it, Nat.” Wanda smiled before practically floating into the kitchen.

As Wanda left you took Natasha’s hand and pulled her up into the bedroom where Bucky was changing.

“It’s official I’m adopting that girl.” You announced to the two. “You can say yes or you can say yes, those are your options.”

“I think you’ll have to fight Clint and Tony for parental rights, baby doll.” Bucky chuckled.

“I will believe me.” You nodded. “That girl is the epitome of sunshine, I love her. I know they have to go back to the Tower next week, but you will be bringing her back for visits now.”

“Whatever you say, dorogoy.” Natasha smiled at you. “Your maternal instincts are really kicking in, aren’t they?”

“You’re not any better, Tash.” Bucky pointed out. “You’ve been mother henning her too.”

“Are you going to pretend the day you bundled her up in three sweaters didn’t happen, James?” Natasha raised an eyebrow at the man.

“I’m not going to pretend, it was cold.” He shrugged, pulling the red head into his chest.

“It’s good to see the two of you are so parental.” You smiled at your partners. “It’s good for the future.” You added, causing both to freeze.

“You better not be playing around, Y/N.” Bucky said, looking you over. “Are you? Are you serious?”

“I’m serious.” You nodded. “There’s a baby in here.” You said, placing a hand on your still flat stomach.

Natasha looked ready to cry as she raced over and pulled you into a tight embrace. Her hand covered yours as she kissed you deeply before dropping to her knees.

“YA tvoya mama. Nichto nikogda ne kosnetsya tebya, moya detka.” She whispered, pressing a kiss to your stomach.

“Doll this is fantastic.” Bucky said, pulling you and Natasha into his chest. “We’re going to have a little witch or wizard running around.”

“They could be muggle.” You reminded him.

“Whatever they are, we’re going to love them.” Bucky nodded, kissing both yours and Natasha’s foreheads.

“And they’re going to be the safest baby in the world.” Natasha added.

“Of course they are. They have two assassins, and a witch for parents. A witch for a sister and a whole team of Avengers for uncles.” You smiled, relaxing into the embrace.

“We have to tell the team we’re off duty for the next year.” Natasha said.

“At least.” Bucky nodded. “Have you told anyone else yet?”

“Not yet. You want to go spread the good news?” You suggested.

“Perfect idea, nasha malen'kaya ved'ma.” Natasha said. “But let’s do it in five minutes. I just want to be with the two of you for a little longer.”

“Another fantastic idea, Nat.” Bucky smiled, maneuvering the three of you to be laying on your bed.

With Natasha and Bucky’s arms wrapped tightly around your form, you felt at home. Felt safe with your family.

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belphegor1982 · 4 years ago

Note

not sure if you're doing the prompt list, but parenthood (6) with leonard snart and janet? 👉👈 i'm in love with your characterizations of len and his wife 💕

It took me two weeks, but there it is :D

Parenthood (DCAU)

When she’d been a kid, Janet had – very naturally – assumed that her adult life would match her parents’, or their neighbours: a house, a husband, a dog, a white picket fence, not necessarily in that order. And kids. Like an afterthought, something not really important so much as vaguely necessary.

She hadn’t thought about it until a couple of years or so into her and Len’s marriage. They’d had somewhat rocky beginnings: she’d been fierce, he’d been grumpy, and they’d both been so damn young they hadn’t seen how ridiculous they were, dancing around each other like they weren’t sure they were allowed this… that. ‘Relationship’ was too big a word. Whatever they had, though, they had kept, because it was good and it was theirs. One day it had hit Janet that Len basically only went back to his crappy little apartment to shower; one night they’d been in bed, sweaty and tired and stupid happy, and as Janet reached for the book on her bedside table afterwards while Len scribbled on his ‘heist ideas’ notebook like he’d been struck with sudden inspiration, she had realised in a rush that she wanted the rest of her life to be like this.

“Wanna get married, one of these days?” she’d asked, almost not nervous at all.

Len had stared at her long enough to make her start to regret asking. Then he’d given a small smile, the very rare sort that showed in his eyes.

“Sure,” he’d said, and that was that.

They’d gotten married six months later. Janet wore blue. Her parents showed up, despite the disapproval hanging thick in the air – her father convinced that she could ‘do a lot better than a thug’, her mother ice-cold at the thought of her daughter marrying ‘some two-bit crook’. Len had only invited his sister, a stunning young blonde who’d been friendly to Janet but still appeared put-out that the invitation didn’t extend to her boyfriend.

“He’s a jerk,” Len had said later, making Janet laugh.

“You’re a jerk, Len.”

“Not the same kind. He’s stuck-up. Lisa’s too good for him anyway.”

“Yeah, well. That’s not up to you to decide, is it? It’s your sister’s choice.”

“I know, I just… She deserves better. Better than she got as a kid.”

Janet had looked at him, long and careful, suddenly a little tense.

“Do you think she’s… not safe? With him?”

Len had blinked, then shaken his head.

“Nah, nothin’ like that. You can tell Dillon’s actually good to her. Nothing like…” He had trailed off, something hard and cold and sudden in his eyes like someone had slammed closed a pair of shutters. That had only lasted for ten seconds before he’d shrugged. “I just wish he wasn’t such a dick, that’s all.”

Then he’d abruptly changed the subject, and Janet had followed, because she knew precarious ground when she saw it.

* * * *

Living with someone in the intimate way meant noticing a lot of things about them, more or less willingly.

Len had cottoned on pretty early to her tendency to snap when she was tired or angry, and of holding nothing back then. She also caught him looking at the crisscross pattern of scar tissue on her knuckles from when she’d punched a wall, repeatedly, after the girl who’d been her best friend in school was battered to death by her boyfriend. “I only slapped her around a bit,” the bastard had said, and ten years later Janet still wished that she’d had the guts to punch him instead. She’d finally told Len about it one day, and seen his face go stone and his eyes ice. His cold fury had been comforting.

It went both ways. She noticed things about her husband, too. Like some odd scars she had a feeling he hadn’t picked up in juvie, the trace of a cigarette burn in the hollow of his right shoulder, or the mark – still chillingly precise even years later – of a belt buckle in the small of his back. She wondered whether Lisa had similar scars. Not that she’d ask. She and her sister-in-law didn’t have that kind of relationship.

Janet had a past. Len had a past. That was what being human meant. Sometimes that felt more like dragging a corpse through the dust wherever you went than a happy set of picture-perfect memories, but it was part of the whole package.

The major reason Janet didn’t entertain the idea of kids for longer than a passing thought was because she didn’t want any – for the moment, she told herself, even as she kept forgetting to really think about it. She’s grown up with the distinct impression that she hadn’t been wanted, or had come at an inconvenient time to her parents. The last thing she wanted was to make a kid feel like that.

The lesser reason was everything Len wasn’t saying. He wasn’t crazy about opening up about things either important or trivial, though he did anyway because they both liked to get their point across clearly. But she’d never, ever heard him say anything at all about his life before he’d struck out on his own, a couple of years short of eighteen years old. His sister Lisa was six years younger, and that was all Janet knew. Family, parents, home life – Len didn’t let anything slip. This, combined with the scars and a few odd reactions, carefully hidden under a lot of attitude, told her more than he appeared willing to share.

One day, when he’d been nicely mellowed out by a good score and a shared bottle of the good stuff to celebrate, she had asked him, “Do you ever think about having kids?”

The split-second look he’d given her still haunted her to this day. She had seen him angry, she had seen him silent, cheerful and surly and balking at house chores, but it hadn’t crossed her mind that he could ever be afraid.

“No,” he’d answered curtly. “Why?”

“Just wondering. Kevin from logistics just had his third the other day. Kept asking me when I’d finally get started on my own.”

“Kevin from logistics needs to mind his own damn business.”

“That’s what I told him,” said Janet, and Len smirked. “Anyway, he got me thinking. Turns out I don’t think I want kids. You know, at all.”

The relief on his face was as fleeting as the fear, but just as stark.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like what we have.” A pause. “You’ve really never thought about having kids one day?”

“Sure I did, once – for about five seconds. Weirdest five seconds of my life.”

She’d given him a look, half amused, half a smile. Relax, Len. You’re not getting interrogated.

“That bad?”

“Look, I don’t… Kids are weird, all right? Adults I can deal with. Besides, all I know is how not to be a father. No way I’m risking—no way.”

That was as close as he ever came to telling her why she’d never even heard Snart Sr.’s first name. But it was enough. They closed the subject and moved on to other things.

* * * *

And then it turned out that Metropolis and Gotham were not the only cities that could boast an actual superhero, because Central City quickly became aware of a lean, young-looking man in a red costume who called himself the Flash and went after burglars and thieves with superhuman speed. Whoever he was, whatever he was, he added an element of danger to her husband’s chosen profession, and Janet took an instant dislike to him and his big smug smile. Then she dismissed him from her mind quickly enough.

Len, though, was a very different story.

While he didn’t like the Flash any more than Janet did, the guy’s addition to the tried-and-true equation of cops and robbers added an edge that hadn’t been present before. Having an actual superhero in town made all of Len’s old research on absolute zero – and tinkering in the basement – not only relevant but useful. He designed a ‘cold gun’ from plans he’d stolen years ago, looking more excited than Janet had seen him in the last eight years, and worked hard to ‘up his game’.

Privately, Janet thought that, for a man who claimed to be as serious about his trade as Len did, creating a brand-new persona complete with parka, visor, and goofy moniker was hilarious.

Not that she ever actually laughed at him. Especially not the one time Len came back from a heist with an armful of cash and a weird look on his face.

“He’s a kid, Jan,” he said when Janet had asked him what could be wrong when he’d clearly got away with the loot unscathed. “He’s a goddamn kid. I don’t think he’s even old enough to drink.”

“What the hell is he playing at, then?” she exclaimed. “This job is not kid’s stuff! What was he thinking, that he could waltz in and play Superman, just like that?”

“I don’t know.” Len took off his visor and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then his eyes hardened. “And I don’t care. I like my job. If this guy thinks he can stop me, then he’d better be prepared to try harder.”

“I got him good today, though,” he said hours later, in the small hours of the night, after Janet’s hands had searched for his, cool and calloused, under the covers.

Something tensed inside in the region of her stomach.

“You didn’t kill him, did you?”

“Of course not,” he snapped, looking annoyed that she’d even ask. Janet’s guts relaxed. “I’m a crook, not a murderer. Besides, you know the second someone offs that guy, Superman or another big hero is gonna show up and turn the city inside out in revenge. It’d be like when a cop gets killed. They close ranks and start shooting indiscriminately.”

“So when you say you ‘got him good’ –”

“I just sent him packin’. Didn’t rough him up more than I would a cop. The kid’s got a mean right hook but he has no idea how real cold works, speed or no speed.”

Janet closed her eyes again and murmured, “Maybe he’ll quit, then.”

“Maybe.” Even half-asleep, she could tell that this ‘maybe’ meant ‘fat chance’.

“So… on the off-chance that today didn’t put him off, what are you gonna do?”

“I was thinking I might hit Drake & Hall Savings on Infantino Street next month.”

“I meant about the Flash.”

Len’s voice was low but certain when he said, “Me too. I’ll just keep doing my job, and if this joker is as serious as he claims to be, he’ll keep trying to stop me. But I’m not gonna drop everything just because of a kid in a onesie and a mask. I’ll just have to find ways to slow him down.”

The last thought that coalesced in Janet’s mind just before she nodded off was Did my husband just become a supervillain?

She fell asleep before the laugh passed her lips.

* * * *

While ‘supervillain’ might have been stretching things – not to mention the word made Janet choke up on laughter – Len’s new approach to the job was certainly different from the one he’d had before the Flash came along. He still refused the label, though, arguing that supervillains had powers, costumes, and delusions of grandeur, while he just had a cold gun, a parka, and banks to rob.

“Okay,” said Janet when she was in a ribbing mood, “what’s the Joker’s power, then?”

This usually earned her a deadpan look.

At least Len didn’t remain the only crook with a gimmick and an eccentric costume for long. Soon her husband had colleagues, fellow not-supervillains, some of whom not only willing to work together but also seemed to actually appreciate it. Their ‘powers’ were not innate, nor did they get them in freaky accidents; like Len, they either stole tech or were savvy enough to design it. And they all rejected the label of ‘supervillain’.

They were ‘rogues’. Or rather, Rogues. And Len – who knows why – took the place of the de facto leader.

Of her husband’s coworkers, Janet got on with Mick Rory the best. She liked his even temper, his slight smile, and the fact that he generally found it easy to keep a level head. Digger Harkness was his exact opposite, and her whole life she could never quite shake off the urge to slap him whenever he opened his mouth. The others were scattered along the scale between those two extremes: some were never quite sure what to do with her (or she with them – apart from making sure the old couch in the basement could be slept on and keeping an eye on their quickly-dwindling stock of coffee and beer packs), while others were more accommodating about having to spend time with ‘Len’s missus’.

One day Janet caught James pilfering one of the cookies she’d baked herself for the next night she’d have to spend alone. He looked so terrified at being caught red-handed that she refrained from rolling her eyes and told him to help himself and share with his musician friend.

She drew the line at pointing out Hartley was too skinny, though. Just because the young man was friendly and polite and, indeed, looked rather underfed didn’t mean she had any right to turn into her Aunt Debbie. She’d rather die first. Besides, she wasn’t the kid’s nanny, was she?

Nevertheless, the cookies proved a success. Like the couch in the basement, like the stocking up on beer packs, like the occasional patching-up of scrapes not serious enough to warrant a trip to the hospital, they surreptitiously became a habit.

* * * *

Over the years, Janet Snart slid smoothly into middle-age never regretting once her decision not to have children. Turned out being a woman, a wife, a friend, and a sometimes kind-of-support to a bunch of Rogues was quite enough.

Parenthood was overrated, anyway.

______________

Hope you liked, @orion-nottson 💜

Timeline notes thingy: Janet and Len met when they were about 25-27 and got married a couple of years later. ‘Dillon’ is of course Roscoe Dillon, the Top, who has a blink-and-you-miss-it cameo in the JLU episode with the Rogues, but since I don’t want to kill him or Lisa, I’m thinking he was her ice skating trainer, they fell in love, and didn’t go into villainy.

Wally was the first Flash of this universe - maybe the second and Jay was a superhero in the 1940s? - since he says “my uncle’s flying in” for the ceremony. Also, when he first pops up in this story he’s not quite 16, while Len is a bit over 30.

...I really overthink these things, huh 😅

#Anonymous #my stuff #rogues #fanfiction #ask reply #my OCs #Janet Snart

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nyxdelanuit · 4 years ago

Text

Please Let Me Take You, Ch 3

TWs: Cheating, angst, unhealthy/abusive relationship, manipulation, smut,

Masterlist Here

You were glad Kirishima wasn't too well known anymore. You were able to meet up almost anywhere without being bombarded by fans and paparazzi. It was a much-needed relief to sit in a random bar without constantly looking over your shoulder. Maybe that lead to the predicament you were in now, a few drinks too deep with an almost-stranger. Yet you couldn't find it in yourself to be anything but relaxed around him. He seemed genuinely interested in you and your stories, and he didn't hesitate to tell you stories of his own. The past few years of his life had been full of rehab for his injuries and training to get himself to par for returning to hero work.

“So you have a degree, what do you do for work?” You frowned at the question, taking another too-big sip from your drink. You had stopped tasting the alcohol a few drinks ago, a realization that meant you should have stopped or at least slowed down, but you forged blindly ahead.

"I, uh… don't. Katsuki doesn't want me to take public transit too much, and there's not too much work near our place. He thinks it's a good deal, having me stay home." He watched you a moment too long, but you were too lost in thought to notice.

"That sounds pretty boring, but at least you know that you'll see him no matter what shift he has that day." His grin was so bright, even under the curtain of his dark hair, you almost felt bad telling him the truth about your days. But the alcohol had loosened your tongue, and complaints poured just as easily as your drinks.

“If he comes home that day. He’s so busy being one of the top heroes, he only comes home maybe once or twice a week. Sometimes less.” Your laugh sounded hollow even to your ears, and you saw his face drop.

"Not even the number one hero is away that much, unless they're on a mission. That's some bullshit, and I hope you know that." It was comforting and sad all at once, having your feelings validated by someone outside the equation. You loved Mina and Ochako, but they were friends with Katsuki long before you were in the picture. "So what, you just sit at home all day, waiting for someone that never shows up?" You laughed bitterly.

"Sometimes, I go out, and he comes home all angry about that too." The touch of his hand on yours startled you, but you had missed gentle touches so much that you were reluctant to pull away.

“You deserve better than that, you know.” The concern in his scarlet eyes drew you in. If it wasn’t for the heavy ring scratching at your finger, you’re sure you would have kissed him right then and there. How starved for affection were you, aching for comfort in the arms of a stranger? That thought was enough to pull you away from him.

"Thanks, Kirishima, I should probably get home." You smiled awkwardly, willing yourself to walk away before you made a mistake.

“Let me escort you home, you’ve had quite a bit to drink.” You shuffled a bit, wondering how you could turn him down gently, but he nudged your arm. “It’d be pretty rude of me to not take you back, I’m a hero after all.” You couldn’t turn him down now. Not with the grin he was giving you, and the arm held out expectantly. Even if he was a near stranger, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no.

You don’t know why you had been so worried. He was a perfect gentleman the whole time, continuing to entertain you with stories even after you so blatantly invited him out and tried to ditch him the moment things got uncomfortable for you. By the time you reached the gates leading to your house, you were near out of breath from giggling, his cheeks flushed from pride. You sighed a bit as you turned to him.

“This is me.” You pouted, prompting him to give you a small smile in return.

"Well, now I know you've gotten home safe." He pulls you in for a hug, his arms already gone by the time you thought to reciprocate. "Try to have a good night, and if you ever want to get out again, let me know." All you could do was nod, hoping you could write the heat rising in your cheeks to the drinks you had.

“Thanks, Kirishima. I’ll text you?” He nodded in response, watching you go through the gate before waving and walking away. You felt like you were back in high school with the way your heart fluttered watching him leave, it felt juvenile and utterly ridiculous. Especially considering that you were engaged. To a man that was decidedly not Kirishima.

You were so busy trying to dissect your new-found crush, you almost missed Katsuki waiting for you on your pristine couch.

You froze at the call of your name. He was on his feet, moving closer. Your mind was screaming at you do to something, anything, but you just stood there, waiting. You could feel the heat he radiated on your back, and all you could do was tense. Then his arms slowly wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest. Your breath hitched, something he must have taken positively, although you were sure it was just the adrenaline racing through your veins.

"I'm sorry, babe. Things at work have been stressful, and I bet you've been lonely. No wonder you're going out, you're trying to get my attention, aren't you?" You didn't answer, didn't need to. Katsuki would always find the answer he wanted to hear no matter what you said. "Let me make it up to you, baby." His kiss was like fire against your neck, and you had to fight your desire to push him away. Hands traveled up your shirt, his touch feeling like oil sitting on water. You wanted to wash it off, separate yourself from the feeling.

Love shouldn’t feel this way, should it?

Yet you let him lead you to bed, tried to distance your mind as he stripped you down. You hated the feeling of his hair in your hands as he dove between your legs, barely recognized the voice resonating throughout the room as your own. He was too hot, too sweaty under your hands as he slipped inside you with a feral grin. His words slurred in your ear, sounding as if you were underwater. His touches were too rough, the teeth in your shoulder biting too hard. You still managed to find your end, all the tension in your body releasing with a whine. Katsuki followed soon after, flopping back into bed satisfied. He didn't reach out for you, and you stayed still and silent on your side of the bed.

The ring felt so heavy on your finger as Katsuki slipped from bed, closing himself off in the bathroom. You should have cleaned up too, but you were having a hard time trying to find the energy to do so. So you waited until he came back, sweatpants clinging to his hip in a way that would have had you swooning a few years ago.

"You should get cleaned up, I'm hungry. Can you do curry tonight?" You nodded as you sat up, and that seemed like it was enough for him. You locked the bathroom door behind you, not that it would do much against Katsuki if he really wanted to get in. But the warm water was soothing, bringing you back to yourself enough for you to get dressed and be around Katsuki without feeling like bugs were crawling over your skin.

You cooked as he stayed lounged in the living room—no words spoken, just the tittering of the people on tv filling the empty space. The curry you were making was spicy enough to make your fingers tingle, and you were contemplating making something a little more palatable for yourself. The argument that would cause wasn't worth the effort; you'd just have to make do with his snickering as you drowned the spice out with whatever was left in your fridge.

The late dinner passed as you thought, pretending you didn’t hear Katsuki’s laughing at your spice intolerance while wolfing down his food, declaring it ‘sub-par’ and wandering back to your room. You washed the dishes in silence. He must have had another early morning at work ahead of him. He was just busy.

Those words started sounding like excuses, even to you.

You laid in bed that night, cold despite Katsuki’s presence on the other side of the bed. You couldn’t sleep, Kirishima’s words echoing in your head. “You deserve better.” Mina had said similar things hundreds of times, even Ochako had expressed her concerns. Yet none of them stuck in your head like Kirishima did. Was it because even an acquaintance could see how much of a toll this relationship was taking on you?

You finally fell into a fitful sleep late that night, not surprised when you woke to an empty home. It was a relief this time, not to pretend you wanted to be close to him. The voice in the back of your head kept nagging, telling you this feeling was only temporary. Just a speed bump, every couple went through things like this, but you weren’t so sure anymore.

Deep-cleaning the house kept your hands busy, but your mind wandered. You fought with your mind for hours before sitting on the kitchen floor, exhausted, when you realized: Even if you wanted to leave, you didn’t know how you could.

You weren't sure how long you sat there, a mess in the middle of the pristine house, but you were finally snapped from your thoughts as a loud knock sounded at the door. You tried to straighten yourself up as you walked to the door, opening it to Mina's bright face.

"Hey, babe! I just wanted to stop by and make sure Bakugou didn't give you too hard of a time about the article yesterday." You welcomed her in with a sigh.

"He did, but I appreciate it, Mina." You smiled tiredly at her as she looked you over.

"It looks like you made up." She giggled at the blooming bites across your neck and shoulders, and you shrugged.

“I guess so.” The humor fell from her eyes as she grabbed your hands.

"If you're still feeling down, the squad is going to go out for drinks this weekend. We'd love to have you with." Your smile felt a little more sincere this time, having something to look forward to.

"Yeah, I'd love to, Mina."

Now you just have to survive the next few days.

taglist: @httpsambar @thecatisblackl @ihopethatwemeetinanotherlife @7teenlyfe @tspice283 @domtamaki @taehyungbbe @silentw-lkr @zbops @beatific-drabbles @moonsaye @dadchis-girl @verdandi24-blog @cornchipsanddip @gokm1023 @animefandomally @rocorambles @But-kairis-not-that-smart @say-my-name-assbut @samanthaa-leanne @hot-pocket01 @minihemo @kagomefan27

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #bnha x reader #nyx writes #plmty

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hold-my-hand-kuroo · 4 years ago

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the soulmate au i thought i wouldn’t write

aka the soulmate au where everyone is born with a book quote on their chest, and soulmates are people who share the starting and ending lines from the same book, and kuroo’s just unlucky

so basically,,,i took that devastating headcanon that kuroo’s parents are divorced and combined that with a faulty soulmate system and a quick little something on it while still promoting my neighbors to lovers bullshit-

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x reader

It’s one night after Kuroo’s visit home that he lies restless in bed. Soulmates. He hates the very essence of the word, especially since his own possibilities are so unclear and vague. He thinks he’s cursed, just like his mother, for having such an unbelievably common line etched on his chest.

“It was love at first sight” was found in countless novels, novels that were never Kuroo’s cup of tea, but he read them, read as many as he could find out of curiosity. It wasn’t because he liked the idea of running into a special-someone after single meeting; in fact, he despises the very idea, as he finds it a little shallow and unsubstantial to a developed relationship after a culmination of encounters, but that was just him. Rather, it’s his frustration working against him, making him count every different quote, every different fragmented line that could’ve matched with the one forever stuck to him.

It’s far too much, and frankly, Kuroo hates feeling uncertain.

“You’ll love him,” his grandmother had told him upon welcoming him at her door. He almost froze in her warm embrace. “He matches exactly with you. It’ll be great!”

It wasn’t great as it turns out, but Kuroo had predicted that way before his supposed soulmate entered the door with his grandfather, and over a lackluster, silent meal, Kuroo left convinced that this man was absolutely not his soulmate. He even goes through the trouble of looking up the book that his lines came from, and he’d much rather not be associated with its contents after reading the quick summary. Out of courtesy and respect for his grandparents though, he does take the man’s number with the promise of speaking to him once again.

“Maybe it’ll take some time,” his grandmother reasoned, patting his shoulder gently. “It’s different for everyone.”

He wonders if she’s right but can’t imagine how much time it’d take. He likes his relationships, whether it be romantic or not, to start naturally, to grow with interaction and conversation until they flourished. There’s something manufactured to him about an arranged meeting with the intent of spending the rest of his life together with a stranger that he knows nothing about. A stranger that he simply isn’t interested in getting to know, not that it was the man’s fault. It’s Kuroo and his fear of ending up like his parents that keeps him alert and unwilling to pursue anything beyond just acquaintances before getting to know someone well.

“So? Are you planning on calling him back?” you sigh through the phone. It’s almost 5 AM, and you knew that when your phone buzzed at your bed side two hours ago, your best friend needed help. “

“Kitten, I lost that number the moment I walked out of the house,” Kuroo lies, stifling his yawn. He knows he should’ve been asleep, and he knows even better to let you sleep, but time passes far to quickly when he’s being serenaded by your speaking. “I just wish she’d stop setting me up with people. I swear it’s a new person every week.”

“It is,” you correct matter-of-factly. He can practically hear your eye-roll through your voice. “Have you talked to her about it? I’m sure she’d understand if you mentioned something.”

Kuroo groans. “I can’t do that to her. She’s been trying so hard, and to be honest, I’d feel a little bit bad since she’s been with me from even before I started playing volleyball.”

“Prior to conception?” you ask, raising a brow.

“Are you saying that I played volleyball in the womb, Y/N?” he asks, laughing. Finally.

“I’m just saying that you were a brat since birth.” He continues laughing softly much to your pleasure. “Now that you’re finally feeling better, can I go to sleep now?”

“It’s almost sunrise, though. Why not come take a run with me instead?” Kuroo offers. He knows you won’t, but he finds pleasure in teasing you over your lack of will to move. “I’ll even walk while you’re jogging to match your pace and give you a running start.”

“Very funny, Tetsu.” You swear that you’d hang up on him one day. A day that was better than whatever slump Kuroo found himself currently in. “You know I can’t run for my life.”

“It’s never to late to start practicing a healthy lifestyle,” Kuroo tsks. You retort back with something about sleeping properly, but he ignores it. “I’ll be out at 6. Would love to see you waiting for me.”

Kuroo knows that you won’t show up, and he doesn’t blame you. Not everyone could bring themselves to run right at dawn, especially people who slept very little thanks to him. He means it as a way to get back at you, to sound fine and normal again so that you won’t have to waste time worrying about him, and he believes that it works when you bid him a ‘good early night’ and go back to bed.

That is, until he sees your very grumpy and very disheveled appearance waiting for him outside on his sidewalk, tapping your foot impatiently on the pavement. He thinks he’s dreaming, taking no time to rub his eyes multiple times before he realizes that yes, you are indeed outside waiting to go on his morning run with him.

“After this, you owe me,” is all you say before getting your promised head-start. Kuroo walks steadily behind, making sure to take extra slow strides so that he won’t pass you.

The sun, just peeking through from the horizon outlines the back of your figure, shining on your hair and skin. Kuroo watches, gaze intent, and finds himself spacing out. He wonders how it’d feel to do this every morning, to wake up and spend more than just a run with you, but hugs in bed and breakfast too. Even if he hates cooking for himself, he thinks it’d be fun to do it with you. Would you be a morning person? He’s always kept you up at ridiculous hours on the phone, so when was morning for you? And how did you prefer your eggs to be cooked? Kuroo’s not a chef, but he prides himself in his healthy, balanced meals. If you ate with him everyday, he’s sure that he could-

Kuroo knows. He knows that he’s falling, been falling since forever, but he’s too scared to say anything to you. In a world with hundreds, maybe even thousands of books that started or ended with the same cliche line, “It was love at first sight,” he fears the idea of risking your happiness for his own sake. It seemed far too convenient for the two of you to be soulmates, and the thought of pursuing a relationship with you with the high risk of failure and keeping you away from finding your true fated one is a strong reminder for him to control himself.

He watches your fleeting figure in the distance and walks even slower.

ii.

“The knife came down, missing him by inches, and he took off.”

From the start, you had the sinking suspicion that Kuroo’s quote matched yours. Even without realizing that his was the exact first line to your last line, there was something that just felt so incredibly natural about Kuroo. The fact that he was always there to listen to you and vice versa ever since your middle school days is a strong affirmation that Kuroo is indeed much more than just a friend to you.

You think back to the late night talks via phone cup, the two of you still in your adolescence, as Kuroo would vent to you about the fights his parents were having. The two of you were too young to know back then that the fights were just the start of something far bigger. The conversations would grow longer into the night, each day seemingly to grow worse and worse. Sometimes, you’d find yourself falling asleep right at your desk in the classroom of your elementary school.

“Hey, Y/N,” Kuroo had whispered to you on one fateful night. You raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to finish properly. “Uh, over.”

“What? Over,” you responded, trying to be as quiet as possible.

“Today I learned how to make things quiet….over,” Kuroo answered, grinning from his window. You remember your confusion and raised brow as you watched him run away from the cup and back, suddenly with two pillows. “Check this out.”

You watched curiously as he stuffed the two pillows on the sides of his head, almost as if they were to serve as ear plugs. That was the beginning of the mess that was his hair, you suppose, as ever since that night, you’ve never seen him look put together again. Not even during important ceremonies like graduation did he bother fixing his bedhead. Rather, it was impossible to do so, and you knew from first hand experience, trying to tame the mess almost every day during high school. Secretly, you enjoyed raking your fingers through his hair and enjoyed the physical contact.

“Hey, are you even paying attention?” Kuroo whines, snapping you out of your thoughts. From beside you, he turns his head to look at you, raising an eyebrow. “It’s getting to the good part.”

You roll your eyes. “Tetsu, this is the fourth time you’re making me watch this crime documentary, but for what?”

“But the DNA-“

“Nerd.” If you think hard about it, you can pinpoint the exact moment when Kuroo changed drastically. He wasn’t always as charismatic and as hardworking in his childhood, but you know for sure that it’s because of volleyball that he flourishes. He’s not an idiot, he never was, and you recall one fateful day in middle school when you visit him in his house to find him actually studying instead of playing games.

“I have to keep my grades up or else I’ll get kicked from the club,” he had said simply, but when you caught him tutoring his other teammates during his lunch break, you understood that it was a completely different story. Before you knew it something had triggered Kuroo into maturing quickly, working tirelessly at becoming all-rounded in his studies and sports. Whether that something was volleyball or the little bit of hope that Kenma gave him every time he showed up to practice, you weren’t sure, but you knew in your heart that Kuroo’s sudden improvement and change in attitude was what made him the captain of Nekoma later on in high school.

High school was a little lonely, you have to admit. Between exams and nationals, you felt that day by day, Kuroo slipped away from you. You watched his games whenever you had time, visited him at practices, and even studied with him whenever he offered, but he felt so distant. You didn’t blame him, though. You’re more than pleased to find him so involved in something, and whenever you heard his hyena-cackle from the gym, you thought about the quiet boy who once hid inside his room all day to avoid his parents. It was for the best.

You were always worried if he got tired of practicing until sunset and studying until sunrise while also keeping his team from falling apart, but even when you sat in his room during the weekends, waiting for him to wake up, he seemed content. Exhausted, yes, but upset that he could finally bring the people around him to stay together and rise? Never.

“If I knew you were going to be this bored, I would’ve picked something else,” Kuroo mumbles, breaking you out of your train of thought again.

“Kuroo, I was bored the second time you made me watch this.” He chuckles a little bit. “Crime documentaries are only interesting the first time.”

“I don’t agree with that, but I’ll put something new on, okay?” Scrolling lazily through the options on Netflix, you sit back and sigh. It doesn’t go unnoticed. “Something wrong?”

“Just thinking about how cool you’ve gotten,” you reply, trying to sound as sarcastic as possible. But it’s true. He started as a childhood crush that you merely dismissed as something part of growing up together and talking every day, but it had spiraled out of control before you could control it.

“Falling for me?” he teases with a wry grin.

“I’ve been falling, Tetsu.” It comes out of your mouth almost instinctively. Perhaps you were getting frustrated with the weird limbo that the two of you found yourself in, stuck in the area of something more than friends but not quite lovers. You bite the inside of you cheek to stop yourself from saying anything else.

He’s silent. You wish he weren’t. It’s foolish, but the smallest part of you hopes he’ll say that he feels the same, but you also know about his circumstances, his parents, and his worst fears. It’s selfish of you, and you take his silence as an affirmation of that.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, getting up from the couch. “I’ll get going.”

As you walk quietly outside of his house, you feel a pang of hurt. He doesn’t try to stop you, and you don’t blame him after crossing the unspoken boundary that he’s worked so hard to establish and maintain. But still, you miss him by your side walking you home, lending you a jacket if it was too cold. It’s your first time walking home alone in years, you realize, and you suddenly understand how quiet the night can be without the occasional rambling about chemical compounds or impressive volleyball matches.

When you get home, you almost forget about why you’re feeling so upset in the first place and try to call him before realizing that shouldn’t. You promptly hang up.

iii.

Kuroo dislikes conflict, especially when it has time to grow into something bigger. That’s why, the moment you walk out of his house, he considers his options. He could walk right out of his house to chase you, but what would he even say? He doesn’t like his throat feeling dry, and he definitely does not enjoy not having the proper words. It’s not something he can take lightly, because they’re your feelings, and he can’t step on them any longer.

He supposes that option two would be to wait for things to cool down so that he can apologize for being scared, for loving you so much that he’s afraid to waste your time, get you hopeful, and then let you down. He wonders if you for exactly how long he’s wanted to tell you his feelings and thinks back to his lonely childhood when you were the only one who offered to listen to him, the only one he could rely on, his savior. He didn’t dare to say anything then, and neither did he in high school, but he secretly hoped that teenage impulse would’ve taken the reigns then. It never did.

Instead, he’d just spend his every waking moment thinking about you and his every free weekend by your side while slowly, steadily creating boundaries to prevent himself from acting dumb. It’s a paradox of struggling to stay close to you but keeping you away just enough so that Kuroo won’t give in to instinct. Whether or not the two of you could go back to normal now wasn’t clear to him, and that’s exactly what he despises. Kuroo appreciates clarity and supported answers akin to a well-written research paper or the sound of a volleyball after a cleanly killed spike. He likes to know things, to be sure.

But most importantly, he values settling arguments in a quick and timely manner. He wills to learn from his parents’ mistakes, but the pit of fear he feels as he’s running toward your house close to midnight is a sign to him that he’s just the same as the people he doesn’t want to be like. Perhaps had he cared for you less, he wouldn’t have bothered to make amends. And perhaps you would’ve moved on and found a soulmate that you knew for sure was fated for your love and affection.

He throws pebbles at your bedroom window, hoping that you’re still up. He’s never seen you sleep before 1 AM, but he’s still nervous. When you don’t answer, he tries calling instead. Multiple times.

“What is it?” you mumble quietly, and he finds himself feeling oddly relieved. You open your bedroom window and squint, faintly making out Kuroo’s figure on your yard.

“I wanted to talk,” he replies slowly and takes a deep breath. You don’t say anything, so he takes it as a cue to continued. “I, uh, well first off, thanks. I appreciate it.”

“For someone who breaks into the weirdest motivational speeches I’ve ever heard in my life, you’re sure making this awkward, Tetsu.” Well at least you still had the humor in him to tease him. That’s a good sign.

“There’s not an easy way for me to tell you how much I don’t want to hurt you,” Kuroo answers. Even though it’s dark outside, the dim streetlight lets you see that he has his head hung down low. “Y/N, I like you. And I’m sorry.”

You feel your head spinning. You’re not even sure what he’s trying to say, so instead, you grip your phone tightly. “You better not be talking about liking me as a friend, Tetsu.”

“Yikes, do you really take me for someone like that,” he winces. “I mean it romantically Y/N.”

“Then why are you apologizing?” Your question comes out in shock, and you’re sure that he can hear your heart beat from outside of the window. He looks up at you, smiling.

“Because I don’t know if I should’ve told you,” Kuroo admits. “I don’t know…if we’re meant to be together, and I don’t want to fight with you every day.”

“Tetsu, we’ve known each other for years now, and whenever we fight, we always talk it out,” you say softly into the phone. There’s a brief pause, giving time for Kuroo to deliberate. You bite the bottom of your lip, feeling uncomfortable when he doesn’t say anything back. “I know you’re scared, and I understand why. I’m not gonna force you into something you don’t want to do. We can stay as friends, you know?”

“But I do want something more,” he argues back almost instantly. You hear him tsk under his breath through the line. “Do you…do you know how long I’ve wanted to hold your hand? Y/N, everything I look at reminds me of you, even the little cracks on the sidewalk. But what if we end up hating each other? We can’t even go back to being friends if that happens, and I-“

“Or we fall madly in love with each other.” Kuroo thinks your answer through carefully. Sure, that sounded more likely than his worst-case scenario, but he’s sure that’s what his parents thought too when they started dating and got married. He can’t say for sure though since the only time he’s seen them together was when any sort of affection they used to hold for one another was already gone.

“Tetsu, we’ll be fine. I know it.”

And just like that, he feels his restraints break apart, years of love and adoration for you spilling out. “I’ll do my best—no. I promise I’ll never hurt you.” He silently makes a mental list of vows, swearing himself to never leave you crying alone, to never drag on arguments for weeks, to never throw anything at you.

“Yeah?” you murmur and take his words to heart. Kuroo’s a man of his word, loyal to a fault. It’s why you fell for him in the first place. “Now, care to come in and tell me exactly what about the sidewalk cracks reminds you of me? I’d like to know.”

iv.

“Babe, last chip,” Kuroo offers, handing you the nearly empty aluminum bag of Lays. You turn away from the movie the two of you are watching to look at him skeptically.

“What happed to my chip-hog, Kuroo Tetsurou?” you ask, feigning shock. He rolls his eyes so hard that you think they’re going to get stuck at the back of his head and starts to take the bag away from you. “Kidding, kidding. Thank you for the last chip. Your generosity is very much appreciated.”

“I’ll have you know that I usually eat healthy, unlike someone I know.” You can’t argue that and instead try to reach for the chip, feeling around the oily inside. You notice Kuroo’s keen gaze on you, unusually keen.

“If you wanted the last bite that badly, you can have it,” you laugh, but he shakes his head, offering a weak smile. You’re about to ask why he’s so strangely before your finger tips feel something solid against the bag. After a little bit of further investigation, you realize that it’s round and metallic and not the last chip. “Tetsu…”

“Sorry, I already had the last chip to be honest,” he confesses rather awkwardly. “There is a leftover though.”

You pull out the item and hold it against the light. The ring itself is just a little bit oily after spending some time in the bag, but it glimmers brightly. Kuroo holds his breath, waiting for a more vocal reaction from you, hands balled up into fists so tightly that his knuckles turn white. Your eyes dart back and forth between the silver band and his face contorted with anxiety as if he was expecting rejection.

You can’t believe it.

“Tetsu, I love it,” you murmur, awestruck. You take one of his fists, open it up, and place the ring into his palm. “Put it on for me, please.”

Kuroo’s hands are shaking as he gently grabs your fingers, sliding the ring on with ease. He let’s out a sigh of relief upon seeing that the fit is correct, but that isn’t enough to stop his excitement. He hears his heart beating in his ears and feels his eyes become dangerously wet as he looks at you. You smile and then laugh.

“Why are you crying, Tetsu?” you ask. He’s heard your voice thousands of times now, but there’s something about it now, it’s honey-like quality, that makes him melt even more and falls in love all over again. Pulling you into his chest, he buries his face into the crook of your neck so that you can’t see him crying, but you sure can feel the dampness from his tears and his shaking body. “Hm?”

“I didn’t think you’d say yes.” His voice is just above a whisper, tickling your ear. You feel him press a slow kiss onto your neck before continuing. “I dunno…I thought you wouldn’t want to do the whole marriage thing with me.”

“Why not?” You’re devastated that he’d even think that and wonder what you haven’t been doing to give him that boost of confidence. Kuroo notices your sudden change in tone, nuzzling further into his neck while making a sound of disagreement.

“It’s not your fault,” he mumbles. “It’s just…why would you marry someone that isn’t even your soulmate for sure?”

“We’re soulmates even if our quotes don’t match.” You say it with so much confidence that Kuroo’s heart almost stops. He knows that neither of you can be sure, not with so many people with the same engraving in his chest, but he feels as if he can believe you. “What about you? If anything, I thought that you didn’t want to do the whole marriage thing.”

Kuroo doesn’t reply. Instead he thinks back to the first major fight you two had. It started as something small and trivial but grew faster than he had anticipated into something much more serious. He remembers the yelling, the words exchanged that neither of you truly meant, and the door slamming and the lonely night he spent sleeping on the couch that followed. He had thought that it was over, that the two of you weren’t meant to be together, and it crushed him. Without noticing, he had become greedy and wanted to desperately keep you in his arms at night instead of letting you slip away to another possible soulmate, so when you finally left your room the following morning and broke into a conversation, compromising and talking over the events from the previous night, it was a weight off his shoulders.

But more importantly, it convinced him that the two of you were already far better than his parents who had left their problems unsolved. He could do this, and so could you, he reasons, and that was exactly what he thought when he bought the ring.

“I just love you a lot and wanted to try something new, you know? Maybe it could work out, like you said,” he finally answers, leaving his thoughts behind. He leaves his spot at your neck to face you, eyes fond with a grin. “And to be honest? I don’t think I’d be able to let you go that easily. Soulmate or not, you have me wrapped around your finger.”

You laugh and trail your fingers across his cheat. “I’m glad you think that way, because I’d hate not being forced to watch these boring movies every weekend.”

“You seemed pretty invested a little while ago though,” he teases back, pecking you on the cheek.

“No way.” You return the action by kissing the tip of his nose and raking your fingers through his hair. You swear he purrs but choose not the ruin the moment. “I was just thinking about something.”

“About me?” he says with his goofy smirk.

“Yeah,” is all you say, but before you can respond with something witty, Kuroo presses his lips to yours. He feels your eyes flutter shut and hums in content, smiling a little at your reaction. The two of you would be much more than just okay, he thinks, finding your hand once again to run his fingers over your ring. And then, feeling a little bit courageous, he find himself imagining a petal-adorned aisle and ringing bells, all with you standing by with him.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsurou #tetsurou kuroo #kuroo #kuroo tetsurou x reader #tetsurou kuroo x reader #kuroo x reader #nekoma #soulmate au????

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spaceskam · 4 years ago

Text

From A Whisper To A Scream (7/10)

Summary: Michael caves.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: syringes, blood, etc

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

ao3

Coach pulled Michael aside after debatably the worst game of his life.

“What’s going on with you?” he demanded.

Michael stared at him, blinking slowly as he tried to reorient his mind. Ever since he discovered that Eff was really a Manes, that this “family business” they had was torturing aliens, he hadn’t been functioning very well. It’d only gotten worse after Alex called him out and Michael couldn’t tell him no, suddenly having to balance a very hush-hush relationship on top of everything else. He adored him, but fuck. Now he was just paranoid and tired. That was it. Everything else, every other feeling or brain wave, fell to the wayside because he didn’t have the energy.

That meant playing a shitty game of football where he nearly broke his nose from tripping over the ball.

“I’m just… off day,” Michael said, avoiding eye contact as he took out his mouthguard. He then moved to start taking off his jersey and his shoulder pads. He usually wouldn’t do that while in the middle of the conversation with his Coach, but they felt ridiculously heavy and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay upright with them.

“Off month, more like it,” Coach said, eyeing him, “You know you’re my responsibility, right?”

“Yes, Coach.”

“Then tell me what’s going on,” he said. Michael stayed silent. He couldn’t tell him what was actually going on and he didn’t have the brainpower to come up with a good lie. “Is this about anything that happened with your whole… coming out process? You’d tell me if any of the guys were messing with you, wouldn’t you? And if it’s your dad that ain’t responding well, then I can have a talk with him too.”

Michael blinked at him and it took him a few seconds to realize he had tears in his eyes. It wasn’t even a heartfelt speech, it was just too much. Too much to know another person cared about him enough to say something, too much to know that his list of people who would be hurt by his stupidity was a bit longer. He was beginning to think that maybe he should just tell everyone he was an alien so they’d stop giving a shit about him.

“It’s fine, I’m just off. Distracted,” Michael said. Coach didn’t look satisfied.

“You got scouts out there,” he said, “So you better stop being distracted.”

And that sounded a lot more like Coach.

When Michael walked out to his truck, he found that it was already preoccupied. It wasn’t too uncommon for him to find a Manes in his passenger seat. This just happened to be the Manes he was dreading.

“I thought you were good,” Eff said as Michael carefully climbed into the driver’s seat. It felt like a trick, but maybe he could drive off a cliff and fix everything. Ah, but that was just wishful thinking.

“I am,” Michael said, “Usually.”

“Guess you should’ve thought about that before you tried to corrupt my baby brother,” Eff said. Michael stared out the window and made a point not to say anything about how Eff had been screwing him over before he realized he was with Alex. He seemed to momentarily forget that this had all started because Michael was born. That was it.

“Shed?”

“Yep.”

Michael stayed silent through the drive as he had been these days. For a while there, he’d sort of accepted his fate and was starting to be a bit more talkative. Hell, he’d even gotten to a point where he thought Eff might give a shit about his well being. Now he knew that was just wishful thinking. Every conversation they had that may have given the illusion that Eff didn't hate him was just a figment of his imagination.

“Is your dad gonna question where you are?” Eff asked. Is yours? Michael thought.

“No,” he said instead.

Eff huffed a laugh, “My dad would kick my ass if I showed up later than I said.” It almost felt childish at that point, like Eff was trying to get him in trouble with his dad. It was so stupid.

The longer Michael drove, the more he thought that perhaps he shouldn’t be driving. His eyes were heavy and each blink seemed harder to come out of. Still, he somehow made it to the shed without driving off the road.

They entered the shed in silence and Michael sat on his chair-of-hell where all of his injections and electrocutions took place. Maybe whatever Eff had in store would wake him up.

“Here,” Eff said. Michael lulled his head to the side to look at him, seeing him holding out an energy drink that had already been opened.

“Did you poison it or something?” Michael asked. Eff laughed softly.

“No, just drink it,” he said. Michael hesitantly accepted it and took a sip, deciding that if it was poisoned he wouldn’t really care. Eff sat down across from him and stared at him for a moment. Somehow, it was infinitely less uncomfortable than all the times Michael looked over his shoulder in school and expected to see him there when he wasn’t. “Look, I hate even saying this, but credit where credit is due. I appreciate you ending shit with my brother. Alex is great, I get it, and it took balls to break up with him when I know he probably didn't make it easy."

Michael felt a bit frozen in his spot. That was an understatement. Such a massive understatement that Michael hadn't been able to pull it off at all.

"I don't like knowing that aliens have, like, feelings and shit," Eff continued, looking to the side as if this conversation was just that unbearable. And he had no idea how unbearable it was for Michael himself. "But I do know you care about him which I can respect. But that shit's not safe, not with you being what you are and not with my dad being who he is. You get that, don't you?"

"Why does it feel like you're being nice to me?" Michael asked. He was beginning to wonder if he really had no self-preservation skills at all. Eff rolled his eyes.

"You just picked the wrong guy. I wanted to keep Alex away from all this," Eff elaborated, "So pick someone else."

Somehow, as genuine as he sounded, it still felt like a low blow. Michael couldn't pick someone else. Even if he had broken up with Alex, even if he never liked him in the first place, he was still a personal experiment for Eff. Anyone who got close to him wasn't safe. So that was that.

"Yeah," Michael said.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Michael sipping tiredly on his drink and Eff just watching him like he was trying to decide where to start. Who knew what kind of shit he had up his sleeve that he hadn't done yet.

Eff eventually stood up in silence and Michael's eyes followed him, watching him open up the small mini-fridge and pull out a vile of something. Dread pooled in Michael's stomach. He wasn't sure what Eff had dosed him with that time where it had him fucked up for a solid week, but he wasn't interested in a repeat.

"When's the last time you slept?" Eff asked. Michael shrugged because he didn't have a proper answer. He slept all the time, but he wasn't sure the 10-minute sleep session due to sheer exhaustion before he woke himself up in a panic actually counted as sleep. "Yeah, that's a problem. This is gonna help you sleep."

"Here?" Michael asked, eyes widening just a little.

"Does it look like I have a place for you to sleep? Take it and I'll take you home, it should kick in by the time you get to bed and it'll knock you out for, like, eight hours," Eff said. Michael didn't have the energy to say no. Sleeping for eight hours straight sounded amazing.

He turned his head as Eff rolled up his sleeve and wiped the spot of his arm like he was actually concerned for him. He stuck him with a syringe and Michael could feel the moment it started to set in.

"I'm driving," Eff said as if that wasn't already obvious.

Michael tried to stand to his feet, but he felt woozy and held onto the chair to steady himself. Eff eventually stepped up to him and grabbed his arm, carrying the brunt of his weight.

"Jesus, what did my brother see in you?"

Eff got him into the passenger side of his truck and closed the door and Michael couldn't find it in himself to care that Eff was driving his truck. He was just tired.

The drive home passed in a blur and Michael felt himself being pulled out of his truck before he could even register it. He leaned on Eff without thought and let himself be all but carried inside and placed in bed by the man who had made it his goal to torture him. He was covered up and his keys were placed on his desk and the doors were all locked back.

Michael fell into a dreamless sleep for the first time in a long time.

The next morning, Michael was left running over the night before in his head.

Truly, none of it made sense. Eff wasn't just empathetic like he'd been on occasions when he realized Michael had feelings, he'd actually been kind. Was it his small payback for Michael ending things with Alex? Was it something else entirely? He probably wouldn't get an answer.

Michael stayed in bed for a while, letting his mind torture him with too many thoughts as he tried to analyze Eff's actions. It didn't work. And, in fact, the sleep didn't help him feel any better. It just made him alert enough to be back to panicking. There were so many things that could and would go bad. He was on borrowed time. Before he knew it, shit would hit the fan and he just wasn't excited for that.

Sanders kept quiet, just watching him and making sure he didn't become a disaster before his eyes. The day slid by at an agonizing pace. But it was fine.

He texted Alex a little bit--through an app instead of on his actual phone which had taken more than a little convincing than he wanted to admit, but he wasn't about to risk Eff finding out.

Alex: you ignoring me again?

Michael: no, how could I?

Alex: big talk coming from you

Michael: :(

Alex: when can I see you? I feel like I've earned at least a couple blowjobs

Alex: payback for being a dick to me

Michael: I'll do whatever you want. Maybe we can meet up somewhere tomorrow night?

Alex: my dad isn't going to be home until Tuesday just sneak in

Michael: idk if that's a good idea

Alex: okay.

Michael: don't be mad

Alex: not mad, all I said was okay

Michael: which is code for mad.

Alex: okay.

Michael: I'll see what I can do. I miss you

Alex: I miss you too

And it was fine. Alex got a little less upset and it was fine. Or it was until he got a text from Eff. All it said was: Rest. Tomorrow is a full-day affair. And that was enough to scare the shit out of him.

He didn't know what classified as a full-day affair to Eff, but it didn't matter. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. It was going to be a day of misery. How many more things could he get through and survive it?

As much as he tried to rest, it didn't work. Michael was nervous and dreading whatever was to come. By the time morning came around once again and that car was outside waiting for him, Michael hadn't slept.

"Are you ready?" Eff asked as he mindlessly climbed into the passenger seat. He took a deep breath.

"Yeah."

"Michael. Michael, wake up."

There were very few times in Michael's life where he'd describe himself as overworked. Out of all of those times, he'd never drained himself to the point that he passed out. He supposed there was a first time for everything.

When his eyes slowly dragged open, he was more than a little surprised to see Eff over him and almost looking concerned. It almost had him laughing if he wasn't so disoriented.

"You can't fucking die on me yet," Eff said once he opened his eyes. Michael didn't move. His body felt weak and he was pretty sure his muscles had melted into the ground. He wanted to go home.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"You've only been doing shit for a couple of hours, you've strained yourself more than this before. That sedative I gave you on Friday shouldn't still be in your system," Eff said. He grabbed Michael's arms and hauled him into a sitting position, but Michael couldn't hold his own weight up and Eff eventually let him lay back down. "What are you good for if you're just going to let yourself be this useless?"

Michael's eyes slid closed and he tried to think of anything except for this.

He expected more scolding, more yelling, possibly an injection of whatever sort of wild alien steroid he had today. Instead, Eff pressed the back of his hand against Michael’s forehead then to his cheeks. He might’ve opened his eyes to look at him like he’d lost it if he wasn’t so fucking exhausted.

“You’re overheated. Your nose bled a little, but not as much as I would’ve expected before you passed out, so I guess that’s a good thing. We’ll take a break,” Eff said, voice careful. He stood up and walked away, leaving Michael on the floor.

Sometimes, if Michael really thought about it, he wondered if Eff knew that he was basically making him stronger. Yes, draining him in the moment and making him feel weak and out of control, but Michael had never had someone push his limits before when it came to this. Maybe if Michael played nice, he’d be able to overpower him one day, hide the body, and get his normal life back. He could. It was an option.

It was an option. Huh. That was nice.

A hand grabbed the back of Michael’s neck, supporting him as he was dragged into a sitting position once again. That hand stayed there as a cup of water met his lips and he was all but forced to drink. He had a million questions running through his head, all tying back to wondering why the hell Eff was treating him nicely all of the sudden. Maybe he actually felt bad for once. Probably not.

“If you die, my brother will probably be more upset than he already is, so I’m gonna need you to drink,” Eff said dryly. Michael obeyed.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur. Eff let him rest for a short amount of time before dragging him outside again to push his limits again. A little electrotherapy here, a bit of pinpricks there, and he had Michael throwing shit with his telekinesis over three hundred pounds. Michael would’ve been proud if his body wasn’t aching and his brain wasn’t pointless.

When he finally got to go home and the day settled in, Michael was back to being a mess. Eff was being nice to him. Too nice. He was planning something, he had to be. Was he going to kidnap him anyway? Was this just the beginning of the end, trying to make him trust him?

Michael forgot all about meeting up with Alex until he found himself outside his window which would’ve been a lot less worrisome if he remembered anything in between leaving the shed and ending up there. Even when he tried to remember, he couldn’t.

“I thought you said you didn’t want to come over,” Alex said, leaning against the windowsill and blocking Michael’s way in.

Truthfully, Michael had only been to Alex’s house a total of two times, both just to stop by so Alex could grab something and they didn’t stay long. Now knowing what kind of business his family was in, Michael was glad he hadn’t stayed. And yet, today, all he wanted was to be in Alex’s bed. He was going to get fucked over anyway.

“Can you just hold me for a while?” Michael asked. Any sort of antagonizing Alex had in mind went away and he nodded, moving out of the way. Michael climbed in and nearly fell twice in the process, not even able to laugh it off when he needed Alex’s help.

For the first time in what felt like weeks, Michael was pulled into Alex’s arms. His head was cradled against Alex’s shoulder, he was tugged down onto his bed, he was held and he was warm and he was safe. Safe enough. As safe as he would get.

They laid there for a long while, nothing but the sound of their breathing as Alex combed through his hair. Michael faded in and out of consciousness at the sensation, secretly hoping to just let his mind fade away forever into the feeling. That would be a good way to go.

But, then again, he couldn’t have anything nice.

“Michael,” Alex whispered, “When are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Michael didn’t respond, but his grip on Alex tightened a little and that seemed to be all Alex needed to know there was, in fact, something going on. He readjusted himself a little and touched Michael’s cheek. It took a few seconds to successfully get him to meet his eyes.

“I’m not stupid. Something’s been going on, but I’ve stayed quiet. How much longer are you gonna leave me having to assume? Because my assumptions are getting wilder,” Alex said, trying to tease a little to lighten the mood.

The issue was the truth was wild. How do you tell your boyfriend you’re actually an alien from the 1940s and you’re currently being used as an experiment by his big brother who he loves? Alex would laugh in his face or just leave him. Or maybe Eff was wrong and Alex did know and Alex would start experimenting on him too. He could take a lot, but he didn’t think he could take that.

Michael sniffled and focused on Alex’s collarbone, reaching out to touch it. He ran his fingers over it a few times and hoped Alex would just drop it.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Alex said softly, “But you know you can trust me, don’t you? I’m not going to hate you or be disgusted by you or anything. I might even be able to help?”

Michael’s throat began to tighten and he swallowed hard. He thought about Eff and his weird niceness and how he’d probably make him disappear soon, how Michael probably didn’t have much time left with Alex at all. How did he get in the position where he once had all the time in the world to having none at all?

He dragged his hand up to touch Alex’s lips. They were as soft as always and his breath was warm against his fingertips. He couldn’t remember the last time he kissed him. Hell, he could barely remember the last time they’d been able to spend this much time together in person. Then again, this had been one of the longest weeks of his life. Longest few months. Or, just nothing before it felt real.

Michael moved up to give him a kiss, one that was hardly a kiss at all and seemed to only be reciprocated because of how long it’d been. Alex broke it seconds after it started, shaking his head.

“Michael,” he whispered, “You‒”

“I love you,” Michael said earnestly.

Alex let out a shaky breath. It shouldn’t have been such a hard thing to say and he probably could’ve said it sooner. He knew most of the people he’d been friends with who said ‘I love you’ within the first month of dating someone‒the first week, even.

This just happened to be a bit more serious than that.

“I’m not saying that because of… I’m saying it because I mean it. Because I don’t know when or if I’ll get to tell you later. I want you to know just in case,” Michael said. Alex’s eyebrows only tugged together more and he scooted closer.

“Just in case? What do you mean? What’s going on?” Alex said, worry lacing his soft and sweet voice. God, he was so good. He couldn’t possibly know. He couldn’t possibly be in on the bullshit his family enacted.

“I should go.”

“What? No, stop,” Alex said, his knee wedging between Michael’s thighs to lock his leg around his at a weak attempt to keep in place. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Michael said, relaxing back into his bed. He was too tired to really try to leave even if he wanted to. And he really, really didn’t.

“It’s obviously not nothing and you’re freaking me out,” Alex said, looking him over, “I was assuming it was something to do with your adoption or something and you were playing it straight for your social worker, but that’s obviously not it.”

Michael sighed and blinked slowly, tempted to just keep his eyes closed. When he opened them again, Alex was just staring at him.

“Next assumption was that you got into drugs. Have you? And if you have, let me help you,” Alex pressed, “Let me and your dad help you. You know he asked me what was wrong with you, right? Like, everyone’s noticed. So, just, like, stop talking like you’re never going to see me again. Let me fix it.”

Michael laughed dryly and turned his face into the pillow before he started crying where Alex could see. What was it with Alex and Sanders both being so eager to fix what they had no hand in? It didn’t make sense.

“Did you like accidentally fuck over a drug dealer or something and that’s why you’ve been staying away from me and distant and paranoid? Because we can go to the police and, and figure it out,” Alex continued, “You’re worrying me and I don’t like it.”

Michael took a few breaths until he could trust that his voice wasn’t going to embarrass him. “I’m not doing or dealing drugs and I haven’t pissed off any drug dealers.”

“Then what is it?”

“What happened to not pushing?” Michael murmured. Alex didn’t respond as he let his head hit the pillow.

They laid in silence for a bit longer, tension between them that wasn’t there before. Michael should just tell him. What was the worst that could happen? He was already living in the worst timeline, he might as well just say it.

But that was easier said than done. It was something he needed to talk to Isobel and Max about‒if he could even talk to Isobel and Max without anything bad happening. The idea of it made him feel like he was being choked. Everything made him feel like that recently.

Alex’s hand suddenly touched the back of his neck and Michael was brutally hit with the comparison to the feeling of his brother’s hand on his neck. Eff was rough and firm while Alex’s touch was soft and warm. He wouldn’t mind if that touch stayed there indefinitely. And it seemed to stay there for a while, simply working into his neck.

When Alex pulled his leg away from Michael’s, he almost broke the silence to say something to keep him there. But Alex was pulling Michael onto his stomach and climbing onto his back before he had the chance. His hands worked into the multitude of weeks worth of tension in his shoulders and his neck, carefully trying to make him pliant under his fingers. Michael wasn’t sure it’d work, but he wasn’t going to tell him no.

The longer that went on, however, the more Michael found himself feeling guilty. He was a shitty boyfriend. He tried to think of the last nice thing he’d done for Alex out of the sea of nice things Alex had done for him. Sure, Michael was going through his own shit, but he was letting Alex worry and pushing him away and then letting Alex take care of him after it all. This wasn’t what he had in mind when he thought about getting Alex for real. It was supposed to be Alex parading around in his letterman jacket, it was supposed to be racking up tardy slips because he was late after blowing Alex in his truck, it was supposed to be good.

And Alex had stayed good. Michael was the one who was fucking him over.

“Alex,” Michael said softly. He hummed in question, pressing into a knot in between his shoulders that nearly had him crying all over again. “Alex, what would you say if I told you the truth?”

Alex paused for just a moment before getting back to it.

“I already told you.”

“Even if I say I’m an alien and there’s a guy who found out and is basically using me as a science experiment and I can’t do anything about it because he’s got military connections and I can’t go to the cops because, again, alien,” Michael said in one breath, half into the pillow. Alex stopped for a much longer moment this time.

“That’s not funny,” Alex said softly.

“I didn’t think it was.”

More silence, more breathing, more waiting. Michael was sure he was going to be thrown out of his house. It was the logical next step.

“Science experiment?” Alex asked slowly. Michael nodded. “Like, cuts you open?”

Michael huffed a laugh, “Not yet, thank god.” Alex didn’t laugh. “Usually sticking needles into pressure points that set off shit in me and electrocution. Sometimes injects me with, like, alien steroid type things.”

“Michael.”

“Could be worse, though, ‘cause he hasn’t cut me open,” Michael said. Alex made a pained little noise and then laid on Michael’s back. It was distinctly different than being kicked out. “Aren’t you freaked out? I’m an alien.”

“I’ve had sex with you and I didn’t find a zipper,” Alex murmured into the back of his neck. Michael breathed a sigh of relief that mixed with a laugh. If more tears came, they met the pillow immediately. “Don’t worry, I’ll help.”

“Alex, you can’t‒”

“I can,” Alex said firmly, “Give me a few days to come up with something.”

Michael didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. Later, he’d find a way to tell Alex that wasn’t an option. Currently, though, he’d stay right here.

Here, he was safe and warm and that’s all he cared about.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #verse: from a whisper to a scream

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collecting-stories · 4 years ago

Text

Invisible Strings - John B Routledge

Request: Hi welcome back!!! I hope you are doing well ❤️ I am literally so obsessed with Folklore I would die for anything John B/Folklore. Maybe invisible string or peace?❤️

A/N: Okay so I had this finished and then re-wrote it this afternoon so hopefully it’s good...god I actually haven’t written Outer Banks in like a month.

The TS Anthology Series | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰...one single thread of gold tied me to you✰

_ . ◦ ⭐︎:*.☾.*:⭐︎◦∙._

“I always forget that this is still here.” You mused, running your fingers over the carved part of the baseboard.

John B looked over from the box he was packing, old dishware that had been given to his mom and dad when they were first married, stashed away in the house for a time that never came. It would go to the thrift shop tomorrow morning along with other, now useless items that littered the small house. On Monday you would call the realty office on the island and inquire about putting the place up for sale. John B had seen an apartment for rent, beach side, closer to Figure Eight, nicer than the Chateau and he’d suggested it as a starter apartment, something small that you both could afford.

“Where was it going to go?” He teased, walking over to you. He pressed his legs against your back and you leaned your head to look up at him.

“You could’ve painted over it.”

❖

The year that you turned ten your mom got re-married and your step-father decided to relocate the family to Tennessee where his new job would be. You cried for days over the prospect of leaving the Outer Banks but it wasn’t your decision, all you could do in the end was pack your belongings and move. In what little defiance you were awarded as a ten-year-old you climbed underneath the bed and carved your name into the baseboard. You thought about including some ominous request, perhaps a clumsily drawn ‘help me’ but decided against it at the last moment. Your mom was much more excited to be moving into what she claimed was a nice, big, house in Tennessee with your soon to be ‘new dad’. A step-up from the shoebox shack that you’d been getting by in. 

The house was sold almost immediately to a man and his young son, downsizing after his wife left them with next to nothing. Two bedrooms was all he needed and the view of the marsh was better than he expected to get in his financial state. His son was unbothered either way, sure they were moving but that only meant they were in a new house. He would still go to the same school and see the same people. Though he rode his bike passed his old house often that first year, wishing he could walk up the front steps and go through the door and everything would be the same.

The carving remained unseen until he was thirteen. His best friend JJ was trying to flip off the bed when he fell against it, pushing it away from the wall. His head landed next to the baseboard. While most kids might’ve cried from the possible concussion JJ just rolled onto his stomach to get a better look at the wall and the writing engraved in it.

“Look.” He reached up to smack John B’s arm and pointed at the name carved into the wood, “you got a ghost.”

“It’s not a ghost you moron,” John B laughed once he’d seen the carving for himself, “probably the girl who used to live here.” He’d lived with pink walls, stenciled with butterflies for a year and a half before Big John finally caved and spent some of his money on paint instead of alcohol.

After that John B found an odd sense of comfort in the carving. Sometimes he did his homework laying on the ground with your name staring back at him. A sort of imaginary friend he was too old to have. And when Big John disappeared at sea John B pulled the blankets off the bed and laid with his head at the baseboard, crying alone in his room while his uncle watched TV, oblivious to his nephew’s heartache.

That same year, while they were still combing the shoreline for any sign of Big John’s boat, you and your mom arrived back in North Carolina. You were 16 and she was heartbroken, disillusioned with love and taking every opportunity to caution you against it too. You ignored most of her bitterness, concerned only with the new house and the new life that you were expected to settle into. The cottage style home was so close to the Outer Banks that you could see the island in the distance on the other side of the bay. Your mom talked about fresh starts and got a job working for the Department of Child Services. 

It was the year you heard John B Routledge’s name for the first time. She’d come in from work every day that summer and curse about the delinquent teen. It was her greatest source of reassurance that you didn’t hang around wayward teenagers who, though still grieving the loss of their father, unsure of their place in the world now that they were alone, were expected to move on from that. 

“Placing him with a family is going to be hell. No one is going to want to put out the effort for two years...I’m sure he’ll skip town the second he turns 18.” She would bitch over a bottle of white wine. 

“He could stay here?” It was a pointless suggestion. Your mother would likely strangle him in his sleep if he lived with you. 

“Absolutely not! I’m not a charity.” She had taken up social work only so her psychology degree wouldn’t be wasted but you thought maybe some people did belong behind a desk, in a cubicle, somewhere. Certainly not caring for children.

Either way you weren’t too bothered to listen to those stories. You liked the thought of John B Routledge. He was like some character in a book, too good to be true. His story sounded sad but he didn’t. His life wasn’t a boring repetition of school and work and friends you didn’t particularly like. He was above all that. Like a Jesse Tuck, young forever, stuck on some magical island that you could see but never be a part of again.

After graduation that all changed, just as life was starting to change. You got a job working in a beach front surf shop on the island. It was your first big strike out into the unknown and your mom was less than thrilled that you would be living in the Outer Banks until college started in the fall. But you’d saved enough to rent space and someone had listed a room available online. The ad boasted lots of outdoor area and featured a picture of a hammock and a VW bus behind it.

“How do you know that it’s not some ploy to traffic young women and take them overseas or down to Mexico?” Your mom had pestered you as you dragged your suitcase out of the house to meet the Uber that would take you to the ferry. Away from boring hopefully. At least for a summer.

“I‘ll let you know if I end up overseas.”

“This isn’t funny!”

“You’re being ridiculous mom, I already texted with the kid who owns the house, he’s like my age.” You replied. Someone named John had texted you after you emailed about the room. He seemed nice, he was funny, no red flags had gone up in your mind. The name hadn’t even occurred to you. It’d been a few months since you’d heard any mention of your mother’s tormentor.

It was JJ’s idea to lease the room. The two needed extra money and working the docks or waiting tables or mowing lawns hadn’t cut it. JJ had two jobs to support his half of the rent and John B was working all kinds of hours when JJ suggested that they split it three ways.

“Get a renter in here, it’s perfect.”

“Yeah okay,” John B agreed because he wanted to keep his dad’s house and that seemed like the most logical way to go about it.

You weren’t what he was expecting when you arrived. Having never rented before he’d spent more time making sure you could afford payments than he had finding out any details about you at all. But you stepped out of the car regardless and the immediate sense of nostalgia hit you like a wave. You didn’t mention that you used to live here and John B was too focused on getting through the tour of the shack that he didn’t even register the name you gave him.

“This’ll be your room.”

And just like that you were in each other’s space. Like two timelines fusing together, one of you had swerved and tangled your lives into a mess of summer and shameless flirting and parties on the beach. You realized early on that this John was your infamous John B Routledge, teenage outlaw, sadder in real life than you ever gave him the range for. You liked talking to him late at night when JJ was already passed out or lingering close to him at parties. Everyone, his friends and your new, adopted friends, knew that there was something there but none of them realized how deep it ran. Even you didn’t.

It wasn’t until August of that summer, when John B was out and you were left in the Chateau by yourself, that you had wandered into his bedroom and pushed the bed away from the wall. There on the baseboard was the first of a million signs, the first place in your parallel timelines where your stories overlapped. The bed had knicked the wall enough times that the writing almost blended in with the other scratches but you could see your name clearly when you knelt down.

“What’re you doing in my room?” John B’s voice caught you by surprise and you turned too quickly, falling over, killing whatever tension might’ve arose from finding you supposedly snooping in his space. He cracked a smile and went to offer you a hand up.

“Sorry, I-” you let him pull you to your feet, his skin warm against yours, “I wanted to see if it was still here.”

“What?” He looked rightfully confused.

“I...carved that.”

“That was you?”

And somehow it was just a question of who had vandalized his bedroom but who had been there when he was fourteen and got so angry at his dad that he had slammed the door and jammed the lock. When he was sixteen, crying for days because his dad was missing and no one could tell him anything. When he was eighteen and all his friends were graduating from high school but he had failed out so terribly that his only options were repeat or get a GED. When you pulled up outside for the first time that summer and something in him just seemed to make sense, like all those loose puzzle pieces had figured out their pattern.

❖

“What’s the matter?” John B asked, fitting the last box of donations into the Twinkie. You had followed him outside but you were just standing on the steps, staring out toward the jetty.

It’d been four years of moving you in and out of dorm rooms, returning each time to this house. Four years of navigating dating when you already lived together, kicking JJ out when he interrupted nights you were supposed to have alone, avoiding every visit your mom ever made after she realized that the boy you were living with was the same one who’d caused her so much trouble years earlier. It was every argument, every holiday, every movie marathon, every stupid party, every lazy sunday...You’d spent ten years in that house without a friend in the world and John B had spent another eight trying to keep his head above water only to realize that what you had both needed all along was each other.

“Let’s not sell.”

“You wanna live here?” John B asked, sounding a little more surprised than he should’ve been. The apartment was everything he knew he was supposed to want but really he just wanted to stay in the Chateau with you.

“We already live here.”

“Yeah but...Heyward said there are a lot of repairs that need to be done. Electrical stuff, plumbing, new water heater, new windows, the floor needs to be-”

“John B.” You stopped him short, walking the rest of the way down the steps to meet him in the yard.

“What?”

“Live in our house with me? Forever?” You asked, watching the smile that blossomed at your words.

“Okay.”

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leggomylino · 4 years ago

Text

Vibe So Hot | Han Jisung

Genre: Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Han Jisung x fem!reader

AU: neighbor au, prank war au

Word Count: ~11.7k

Warning(s): mild language (censored)

A/N: inspired by the song “Vibe So Hot,” Priscilla Ahn

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

-〤〤〤-

There were times when you weren’t really sure about Han Jisung.

The day you moved from your parent’s house into your new home, life was a dream. A delight. A living fantasy. You and your closest friend of twenty-odd years had been visualizing it for ages- a home for just the two of you, where you could make and break all the rules you wanted, eat dinner out of the cookie jar, throw paint and crayon all over the walls, and dump all the grease, homework, and leftover brussel sprouts down the garbage disposal that you wanted. It would be your kingdom with the two of you at equal pedestal on the throne, and no one could say or do anything about it.

While your visuals and ideals did change over time, what with hormones and taxes and a general understanding of how the world worked, you and F/n never stopped dreaming of the day you each held one half of the kingdom between your fingers. One half of freedom. It was a blissful, beautiful Tuesday morning. Exactly five months ago. Birds chirping in the small tulip trees. The sweet spring breeze ruffling the surrounding azaleas. The simple but water-efficient sprinkler system the two of you had worked a summer job to afford that was...spraying…...coke…

...Yes, it had been a beautiful Tuesday morning. And also the arrival of hell next door.

“HAN JISUNG!” you yelled, banging on your neighbor’s front door. “Han Jisung, I know you’re home!” You stamped your foot. “Open this door right now!”

It was now five months later. Five months since you’d moved into your dream home, something small and sweet and affordable that you and your friend worked hard for years to achieve. Just something small to start the two of you out, while you finished up school and figured out what the heck the two of you wanted to do with the rest of your lives.

It had easily become five months of back-and-forth hell. “HAN JISUNG!!!”

Click. The door slowly creaked open. It was dark inside, far too dark for 2 pm, like something out of a horror movie.

Oh, but you weren’t falling for another one of his tricks. Not this time. “Han Jisung, I know you’re there…” You called...weakly. “C-Come out this instant. I know it was you who stuffed cereal into the birdfeeder and left glue on the door handles. I was almost late for work this morning and F/n is stuck on the back porch.”

There was no response. You agitatedly sighed, running a hand through your hair and taking a handful of strands with you thanks to the faint remainder of krazy glue that simply wouldn’t come off.

“Han,” you called, poking your head inside. “Han? Han Jisun-”

The moment you stepped inside, a loud whrr! resounded, your body hoisting upwards. You spun around in the flimsily thin netting, falling into a fetal position backwards.

Han and a few of his cronies came out cackling at your expense, watching you gently spin and sway in their ridiculous trap. “I caught Y/n!” one of them cheered. “That’s 1,000 points.”

Another scoffed. “You didn’t do anything,” he said, blowing long blonde locks out of his face. “The points go to me for setting up the...project.”

“Shouldn’t they go to Han?” Yet another asked. “It’s his house.”

You rolled your eyes, attempting to adjust. Han tromped over proudly and swung his arm around the boy. “Exactly!” he cheered, pinching his cheek. “I’m glad you see it my way.”

The kid squinted his fox-like features in disgust, shoving the ringleader away from him. Han merely laughed, smirking up at you next. He sent a flirtatious wink your way. You scoffed.

“S’up, gorgeous?”

“Drop dead.”

“Ouch,” he playfully winced, pretending to take literal damage. “Didn’t like the glue, or the cereal? I told Hyunjin no one wanted his bland raisin garbage. But,” He shrugged. “He insisted it was good for the birds. The raisins, anyway-”

“Screw you,” Goldilocks groaned. “Shove off, I never said I ate the stuff. I just said it was better than wasting Lucky Charms or something actually good.”

“...Yeah, so there’s that.” He spared a passing eye roll before putting back on his deceitfully charming smile. Disgusting. “What brought you to swing by? Just dropping in?”

The other boys laughed again, causing you to turn an annoying shade of pinkish-red, some cross between coral and rouge. “I don’t have to tell you anything!” you snapped in your anger.

Unfortunately, Han Jisung needed to know the facts. “Then...how am I supposed to help you? Oh, oh! Hold on a minute.” He simpered. “Are you maybe trying to tell me that you came by unannounced because...you wanted to get caught up in my web?”

Han’s crew all made catcalls and whistles along with nervous smiles and suggestive expressions. The nerve of him. You fought yourself into an upright position, clawing angrily at the seams. “I meant you already know what you did wrong! Get me out of this stupid thing and get over to my house so you can fix it.”

“Oooo,” A freckled-faced boy you recognized as Felix cooed. He’d often been a leading officer in many of Han’s classic pranks and schemes. “I think she wants you bro.”

The heat on your face was intensifying, whether from rage or embarrassment, you didn’t care. Your prison shook. “That’s not what I-”

“Well then,” Han (classically) interrupted. “Guess I better get over there and fix it.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a salacious manner, padding around the clamour of boys and taking the stairs three at a time like a gazelle. When he reached the top, he revealed a rope from around the corner, lowering you gently...at first.

After three careful tugs, he dropped the rope entirely. Your eyes went wide, screaming as you fell--

...Right into Han Jisung’s arms. The boy glided down the stair rail and caught you at the last possible second. “Plenty of time to spare,” he insisted, showing you his teeth.

You slapped them away, wrestling your way back to your feet. “...You’re such an asshole, Han Jisung,” You dusted yourself off, smoothing out your attire single handedly. “I--”

...You yanked your hand down. Away from his face. Hard. Harder.

It was stuck. Your hand was stuck to his cheek. Krazy glue.

“OW! Ow ow ow okay! That hurts! Sh*t!” He cursed. You rolled your eyes, kicking his leg.

“That’s what you get for gluing my door! Now come on!”

To make things less awkward, you gripped his left ear, yanking him like a mother would a misbehaving child. The others crowded around and followed, laughing as—

The door slammed in their face. “OW!” You heard Hyunjin yelp. His watered-down image through the distorted window showed him covering his nose, the other two goons frantically asking if he was okay.

...Well, Felix did, anyway. Fox-face merely stared and shook his head a little. “Let’s go. You’re cleaning the glue off both doors and changing out the birdfeeder. If you screw it up, you’re buying me a new one.” A harsh gaze fell over your shoulder. “After you unstick F/n!”

Han grunted, his groans and whines a feeble echo of white noise along with the ridiculous passes he occasionally made on the way over.

-〤〤〤-

After spending an hour and a half watching Han unstick glue from around your house (after unsticking your hand from his face) and taking a trip down to the hardware store for a new birdfeeder that 100% came out of his pocket, you sighed, trudging yourself through the front door and collapsing onto the nearest sofa by a front-facing window. You leered, observing Han shuffle up his own walkway and exchange harsh words with his friends before they all piled inside.

That bastard. He was always coming after you, ever since you first moved into the neighborhood. After the first week of assaults (from moving day) you’d asked the other neighbors if any of them had any bad experiences from house 117, but they all gave a generally same response: “Who, Han Jisung? Oh, heavens no! He’s such a nice boy! A little quirky, sure, but such a nice boy! ...Are you sure it wasn’t a raccoon or a stray cat?”

Heh, yeah. Like a stray cat was capable of impersonating your friend to have the locks on your house changed. Didn’t they have to do security checks for that stuff?!

Speaking of locks, the sound of keys ricocheted from your left, and you turned your head to see F/n enter...very strangely. They looked spooked, their eyes wide as they turned their head this way and that, creeping into the house like an Egyptian wall painting.

“Is the cost clear?” they asked. “Is he gone? Nothing’s missing? Nothing’s amiss?”

“Relax, F/n,” you said, scratching your head. You desperately needed a shower, but that had been rather hard with the pipes spewing nothing but Mr. Pibb for the past three days. It’d apparently be a fourth until they cleared out. “The menace is gone, back to his evil layer. I made sure he cleaned up his mess and got him to replace your grandmother’s birdfeeder.”

F/n scowled, back to normal as they tromped into the room, throwing their bags down. “She made that birdfeeder from scratch, Y/n. With her own two arthritis riddled hands, that birdfeeder may as well have been an ancient relic. It was one of a kind.”

“I know, I know,” you insisted, peacefully trying to calm them down. “Just relax. I got it under control and taken care of.”

“You said that last time. Now look at the place.”

You looked around. “...It looks spotless. Han actually did a really nice job with that extra work he put in.”

“Well it wasn’t before! ...Wait, you let him into the house?!”

Whoops. “Only to do some extra chores. To make up for outside. And many other times he’s screwed us over.”

Your friend grabbed the sides of their hair, practically seething. They regarded you like you’d gone insane, and they were just on the brink. “Y/n have you lost your mind? Are you stupid? I thought you were smart! What was that 3.5 GPA for?!”

“Hey, GPA isn’t everything. It’s just a matter of getting on a teacher’s good side and paying attention. Also, I’m aware that...that may have not been the best move. But it’s fine!” you insisted, now following your friend into the kitchen. “I was watching him the whole time. He didn’t leave my line of sight once!”

F/n opened the fridge, glaring perplexedly. “...Not once?”

“......”

You thought. Oh wait...well…

You smiled sheepishly. “...Actually...ahaha...he may have asked to go to the bathroom once…”

F/n’s jaw dropped. “And you let him?!”

Your hands found their way into the air. “What was I supposed to do, F/n? Follow him into the bathroom? That’s creepy and gross and uncalled for.”

Your friend grabbed a beer from the fridge, slamming the door shut after. “No, Y/n. You tell him to go next door and use his bathroom.”

“But what if it was an emergency?”

“I think he can hold it.”

“But what if he couldn’t?”

They paused just beside you, giving you a harsh glare. “After all he’s done? I’d say that’s a real shame and another mess he’d have to clean up.”

“F/n--!”

“NO, Y/N,” Your friend of twenty-odd years turned to you, making it halfway back to the front door. “You don’t get it! It has been five years--”

“Five months.”

“...It has felt like I have had my guard up for five years. I can’t relax in my own home. I can’t relax at work, I can’t relax at school-- I can’t relax anywhere!” They polished off the beer, crumbling the can and tossing it aimlessly into the kitchen. You ducked, the can soaring over your left ear and colliding with a kitchen cabinet. “URGH!”

They grabbed their bags, beginning to march out. You were faster, sliding on sock-clad feet across Han-polished floors to beat them to it, blocking the exit. “F/n, listen. Please. I agree it’s bad, but I think you’re overreacting just a little.”

“Overreacting?! …” S/he crossed his/her arms, glaring at you skeptically and in disbelief. “Okay, fine. Which bathroom did he use?”

“Huh?”

“Which bathroom?”

You swallowed, thinking again. “...Uh...the upstairs one.”

F/n deadpanned. Cold and hard. “Great. Thank you for that. All my school supplies are up there. My office and workspace is up there. That’s where I sleep, Y/n.” You blinked.

“You sleep in your office?”

“URGH!”

They pushed you aside, storming into the wide, open world. Hysterically you followed, snagging your keys off the side table by the front door and making sure to lock up behind you. “F/n- ...F/n wait…! Ah, stupid locks…!”

“Don’t follow me, Y/n!”

“WAIT!”

“I SAID DON’T FOLLOW ME!”

From the corner of your eye, a silhouette of dark brown hair and overly-white teeth made its way toward your property line. “Hello F/n, Y/n.” The careful fall breeze blew the shade from his eyes, where evil and mischief still resided. “Having a little back and forth banter, are we? A disagreement, perhaps?”

Han-bleeping-Jisung. Your vision narrowed, a scowl aimed directly at him. When he was around, it’s all you could focus on. Your senses heightened, and not in a good way. He couldn’t be trusted.

You shouldn’t have let him into your house. Your sensors were picking up on something. He seemed too happy for someone that was just forced into doing chores in a house that wasn’t their own. And willing so…

A hot vibe was residing along the back of your neck, between your shoulder blades. A sinking, sensationally bad feeling. “What can we help you with, Han?”

“Oh,” he piped, brows raised. “We’re on a single name basis now. That’s rare.”

F/n cast him a dark look and continued down the sidewalk to their car. You sighed, trying to relax and having little success; F/n was right, it was hard to remain calm with a hellion next door. “What do you need?”

Han Jisung shoved his hands in his pockets. “Need is a strong word. I need a lot of things. Food, water, air--”

A groan escaped your lips. “Fine. Forgive me. What do you want?”

“Hmmm…” He smirked, listing his head. “I want a lot of things, princess. Depends what you’re referring to.”

You’re pretty sure you could hear the gag coming from F/n’s car as they started the engine, shifting into reverse. Han chuckled, letting you know he heard it too.

“Alright, fine.” He held his hands up in surrender. “You caught me. I came to warn you.”

“Warn me about what?”

“......” He pursed his lips. “...I may have gotten a bit carried away and...well, I couldn’t resist, really. But I was thinking and, maybe it was in bad taste. Since Hyunjin did break your grandmother’s bird-thing.”

A rustling came from the bushes. “That wasn’t me! That was you!”

Han cringed, turning over his right shoulder. “Shhh!”

You faltered, zoning in on Han’s shrubbery. “Who is that? Is that Hyunjin hiding in your flowers?”

Han rolled his eyes, tossing...some junk from his pockets. A coin or something. “I told you not to say a word!”

Blonde hair revealed itself from the viburnum bushes on Han’s property. “Cattywampus.”

“I SAID TO SHHH!”

Hyunjin scoffed. “Oh, so when we’re playing Scrabble, it’s not a word. But now that we’re probing Y/n for information, all of a sudden, it’s a word!”

The air left your lungs, quite dramatically, and you took a step back farther into the safety of your porch. “...What is he talking about? What information?”

Tensions spiked like never before. Han simply groaned. “Dammit...thanks a lot, Hyunjin.” He turned to you with a sour face. “Yeah, okay, whatever, just...I wanted to know when your birthday was.”

He shrugged, trying to pull off the most innocent, blow-it-off look possible. You weren’t buying it. “What were you saying before? What did you do to my house?”

“Oh yeah,” He clasped his hands behind his back, sending another classic trademarked wink your way. Hyunjin freed himself from the viburnum flowers, along with Fox-face, who’d gotten himself tangled up in the next-door rose bush; he tripped over an illy placed hoolahoop and ran into Hyunjin, the two of them taking turns removing literal thorns from their sides. “I left you a present inside.”

I left you a present inside.

He left you a present inside your house. A surprise. A bad one. You had invited him into your living space, your relaxation hub where relaxation was scarce, and gave him just enough alone time to leave something behind.

Something terrible. Something rotten.

Han Jisung was no longer looking like Han Jisung to you; what you saw before you was his true form: a plotting, overzealous, sadistic little impish demon of a man, no...a demon pretending to be a man. Someone like Han Jisung couldn’t possibly be human. There was no love at all in his heart.

“F/N!” You yelled, chasing after them as they drove down the street. “F/N, WAIT! STOP THE CAR! PLEASE!!!”

You could feel Han Jisung’s eyes as he trailed you all the way down Maple Street, his friends watching as F/n hit the brakes a hundred feet shy of the stop sign and let you clamber in the back.

“Step on it.”

S/he nodded, slamming the accelerator and getting the two of you safely out of Dodge. “I’m going to a friend’s house. I have to return a few things I borrowed before Han Hellion ruins them,” They looked over their shoulder. “Where are you headed?”

Your eyes glared proudly through the rearview mirror. F/n drew back, nervously looking between you and the road unassured.

But there was nothing for it. They could yell and pitch a fit at you later. Today, this very moment, everything was going to end.

“The craft store,” you said. “And you’re coming with me.”

“What?”

“We’re taking our house back.”

“......”

The car rolled to a stop at the cross section of Water and Runway Boulevard. If it was the friend you were thinking of, F/n would have to make a right here. Your local craft store was the opposite direction.

With a unanimous nod through the rearview, the two of you made a left down Water Street.

-〤〤〤-

Hobby Lobby had to be your favorite store, next to Fye’s Music Records where you occasionally went for your music collection and your favorite restaurant. ...Though a store wasn’t really a restaurant, and vice-versa.

You and F/n scoured the many aisles of arts and crafts, decor and gifts, candles and knick-knacks, searching high and low for everything on a messy-scribbled list the two of you put together in the parking lot. Revenge was going to be so sweet. Total bliss.

“Buckets?” A young employee repeated back to you. “Yes, let’s see, they should be near the back of the store, on the right-hand side. If you pass the glitter and pipecleaners, you’ve gone too far. I believe they’re on Aisle 13.”

“Thanks,” F/n said, grabbing your wrist and dragging you behind them. They almost seemed more excited about this whole revenge-war than you did. “Aisle 10...Aisle 11...Aisle--”

S/he stopped, pale-stricken. “What is it?” You tried peering around the corner. “What’s wrong? Are they sold out or somethi--”

Your heart nearly stopped. There, in the middle of the aisle, stood Lee Felix, perusing a wide selection of glitter glue. A bucket (not a basket) hung from slack fingers, carrying a barrage of other craft equipment as well as a plastic bag from the Home Depot next door.

Some kind of rage was flooding through your system. You could sense it in F/n as well. The two of you were in sync, fed up with the Hellion Clan’s crazy antics and batsh*t ideas that only brought you pain and suffering. Enough was enough.

You practically shoved your friend aside. “LEE FELIX!”

Felix jumped, startled, frantic, eyes zooming in on you like a deer in headlights.

Then, unlike a deer in headlights, he ran.

“AFTER HIM!” F/n cried, shoving the list in their pocket. S/he ran farther towards the front of the store to block the entrance, while you followed in hot pursuit of the freckled boy’s trail.

Your phone buzzed as you ran, and without taking your eyes off your target you shuffled it out of your purse, slamming the receive button a little too hard. “What?!”

“He’s going towards the back of the store! He’s heading for the emergency exit!”

You gave a quizzical look toward your friend’s voice coming out of your phone, then back at your target’s backside. “What? How do you know that? Where are you?!”

“Look up. Aisle 1. Holiday crafts.”

Carefully your eyes scanned the tops of the shelves near the entrance, and after doing a double take on a statue you found F/n squatting among some Santa Claus and Christmas angels, a pair of high-grade binoculars in their mits.

You had no idea when they’d gotten those. “Where did you get those from?! How the heck did you get up there?”

“That’s not important right now! Just SEIZE HIM! He’s getting away, run faster!”

With an aggravated grunt you hung up, shoving your phone away and pushing your legs to hit the tile twice as hard. Some twenty feet in front of you Felix squeaked, making a surprise turn down Aisle 2 and knocking over a stack of decorative boxes. You cursed, calling forth your skills from high school gym to hurdle yourself over the monstrosity and skid to a temporary halt before barreling down the half-storage half-Christmas decor aisle.

“He’s getting away!” F/n yelled. “Move!!!”

“Why don’t you help me?!” You called back. Felix made a 90 degree turn, charging farther back into the store in the opposite way you were anticipating; unless…

A store manager suddenly appeared at the end of the aisle, holding her hand out to stop you. “Excuse me, I don’t think so; there’s no horseplay allowed in the store.”

Though she tried to grab you, you dodged like a badass, perrying right, then left, then spiraling after a mop of retreating orange hair down Aisle 7. “Can’t! Sorry! I’ll pay for this later!”

“I’m sorry?!”

“Hold that thought!”

The sound of static and muffled voices crackled behind you as the manager called for backup, but you didn’t care. This would all be over once the little coral pipsqueak was in your grasp; you’d make sure to make him sing everything that was going on.

“LEE FELIIIIIX!”

Somewhere on the opposite side Felix squealed, either running into something or barricading another path to ensure his freedom. You slid to another halt, straining your ears to pick up on the sound.

Maybe you could sneak up on him. You were getting pretty tired, and running all over the store wasn’t a very good strategy for either side. Tiptoeing down Aisle 6, buttons and sewing equipment, you held your breath, carefully peering down both directions of the aisle.

Empty, minus a mom and her kid. You dropped down on all fours, crawling to the next aisle-- except--

“Ow!” you hissed, pricking yourself on something sharp. It was a discarded sewing needle.

It gave you an idea. After sucking on the injury a moment, you snagged the discarded object, pinning it to the side of your bag.

You hopped to your feet and gathered the strongest thread and yarn you could. After diving into a pile of fabrics when a few security guards walked by, you got back to work setting up your ingenious idea. A little thread here. Some fabric there. A weight right here…

You quickly sewed (loosely) a few strips of fabric together, finally finishing your creation. “Sorry, this aisle is closed right now,” you said to a few customers, spreading slime over each end of the hall. It was showtime. “I’m ready,” you told F/n, uttering the words through your phone.

F/n had done well to keep their disguise as an oddly-put Santa, peering through their binoculars when no one was looking. “Okay. I sort of lost him after the cops started lurking by here. Let’s see…”

Another curse left your lips. “He didn’t leave, did he?”

“No, I didn’t hear the doors open or close. He’s gotta still be here somewhere…..aha!” Their cry made you jump. “Found him!”

“Where?!”

“Opposite side. Aisle 18. He’s hiding around the picture frames.”

“Dang it,” you groaned, “I need him over here!” You looked around hesitantly. “Can you get him over to this side? I’m on Aisle 7. Additional Sewing and Craft Supplies. Fabrics, yarn, etc.”

“I’m scared to leave my post, but…” F/n sighed. “...I guess if you have a plan, I can chase him that way.”

“Great, okay. Hurry.”

“Roger.”

You hung up, taking another deep breath. Waiting. Ducking when the cops circled back around.

Suddenly, you heard a familiar battle cry from the other side of the store, followed by a man’s scream. The security guards and management started racing that way, but by the time they’d get there the source would be long gone…

Because he was headed straight for your trap. You scaled to the top of the aisle, keeping low with a blanket of fabric over your head as you watched Lee Felix weave in and out of craft stands and passing customers, buzzing toward Aisle 7 like a bee to a honey hive.

“RwARGH!” F/n cried, their Santa disguise flying with a full-powered shove. Felix went plunging for the nearest aisle, your aisle, and the moment his sneakers hit Elmer’s Color Slime Kit, he slipped, spinning out of control right into the giant DIY net you created. Yes! Score!

“HIYAH!” You screamed, jumping off the aisle shelf and tackling him. Gave over. You’d won.

Felix squirmed and fought with all the strength he had left in him, his abs, his arms, his quads, but alas, twice his body weight from you and your friend combined was more than enough to stop him. He gave out with a long sigh just as an employee rounded the corner, crying for assistance.

You were out of time. Tying his hands behind his back and bundling the rest of the fabric around him, your friend threw a couple twenties from their pocket at the young man before the two of you slipped out the emergency exit.

“You’re going to tell us everything!” You demanded, carrying his torso. Felix scowled, rolling his eyes. Despite his obvious anger, he was sweating bullets and looked rather afraid.

“I’m not telling you anything. You made me drop my stuff.”

“You can go back for it later. F/n, open the door.”

F/n shook their head, placing your captive’s feet down and unlocking the back of their car. “Nuh-uh. He’s riding back here.”

“In the trunk?!” The boy cried.

“In the trunk.”

F/n was dead serious. You stifled a laugh, even if it was kind of mean. Felix whined and bowed his head as the two of you placed him inside, F/n smacking a bow on his head that’d stuck to them during the chase.

“Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

The two of you slammed the door shut.

-〤〤〤-

The moment light hit your captive’s eyes, he squinted, groaning from the bumpy ride (as F/n insisted on hitting every speed bump and pothole). Lifting the boy on the count of three, he made sure to cry out for help- “HAN!!! HYUNJIN!!! JEONGIN!!! I’M OVER HERE!!!”- but, as it was expected, F/n simply dropped the boy on the driveway and threatened to stomp over a...delicate area...before smirking at his wide-eyed response and stuffing the bow in his mouth.

“Um, F/n…” You muttered, hoisting your prize up the porch steps, “don’t you think maybe you’re being too-”

“Don’t,” they warned, casting you a glare. “I’m not being too anything. These jerks deserve way worse.” They shifted Felix’s weight in order to allow you room to open the door. “Besides, it’s not like we’re gonna torture him or anything. Just ask a few questions.”

Felix gave a sigh of relief.

“...We can figure out what to do with him after that.”

...He took a sharp breath, beginning to sweat.

Inside the house the two of you tossed Felix onto the couch, running around the lower level to gather equipment before shifting him to a dining room chair. You were adjusting his bindings when the phone rang, F/n scampering off to answer it after sharing a look.

They smirked at the familiar caller I.D. “Y/n and F/n residence,” S/he answered in an overly-pleasant tone. “How may I help you?” Quickly they pulled the phone away, placing it down on speaker. The two of you, and Felix, glared at the voice coming out from the other side.

“We know you have him,” Han’s voice echoed throughout the living room. He sounded serious, demanding almost, sending a shiver down your spine. That was new. “What do you want?”

“Oh, what do we want?” F/n asked. They scoffed, peering out the blinds on the opposite side of the fireplace, just next to the kitchen. Directly at Han’s estate. “That’s something you don’t hear everyday.”

Han huffed, sounding disgusted. Suddenly, Felix erupted, spitting out the bow you’d forgotten to secure. “HAN! HAN I’M OKAY!!! BUT I LOST THE STUFF AT--”

Frantically you pounced, stuffing a fistful of Kleenex in his mouth. A chorus of anxious whispers filled the other line from Jisung and his goons, before Han silenced them and got back to business.

“Felix, if you can hear me, it’s okay. I need you to take one for the team right now until I come up with something.”

Ironically and unneeded, Felix nodded, as if Han could see him. You and F/n rolled your eyes.

Suddenly, a loud splat! sent them squealing backwards.

Your jaw dropped, watching rotten egg dribble and creep down your immaculately-just-cleaned window. Felix chuckled, falling on a sour note after you elbowed him. When two more assaults hit, you ducked for unnecessary cover behind Felix, F/n plastering themselves against the fireplace.

“What do we do?!” you whispered, cringing every time an egg bomb made contact with the glass. What if by some crazy law of nature those things actually broke the window and leaked into the house?! It could take days to get the smell out. Heck, given that it was right next to the fireplace, and you had yet to test the installation of the seams...it’d likely start leaking into the house within the coming hours.

The pelts were slowly getting louder, rising in a horrifically drawn-out crescendo. “GIVE HIM BACK! GIVE HIM BACK!” you heard the goons chanting.

Were they on the roof?! You couldn’t bear this much longer. Your house was being eggified. Sullied. Disgraced. Finally cracking under the pressure, you flew some hand signals F/n’s direction that didn’t really mean anything and army-crawled to a yet-to-be-ambushed window, examining the battle situation outside before rolling back to your feet and sprinting for a backroom.

“Where are you going?!” F/n whispered harshly. S/he and Han bantered back and forth a bit, his demands of Felix’s release rattling the warfront before you returned with exactly what you’d been looking for: a megaphone. Ah, camp counselor days.

F/n saw what you were doing and instantly, wildly, vehemently shook their head no. But you were taking matters into your own hands now.

“Han Jisung,” you stated, loudly enough so your voice could travel over the massive egg-pelting outside. “Hold your fire and I’ll bring Felix outside.”

You waited a few seconds, and the firing stopped. Han’s voice practically purred over the speaker. Very disgusting. “You’re starting to see things my way. That’s good.”

“Oh yes. I’m most certainly starting to see things your way.” The phone lifted between your fingers. “We’ll meet on the roofs in five minutes. If I hear or see one more egg on my property, the meeting is off.”

“......” There was an uncomfortable silence on the other line.

You tilted your head. “Han Jisung? No deal?”

Felix whined a few feet behind you. Han sighed, clearly hearing it. “...Fine. We’ll meet you there.” Click.

You tossed the phone to F/n, who scarcely caught it, juggling it a few times on nervous butterfingers. “Alright, look,” s/he said, pacing across the room and slamming it down on the receiver. “I don’t know what kind of cockameme scheme you have planned, but…”

You smiled. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

They sighed exasperatingly. “I’m sure you told yourself that when you let him into the house earlier, too.”

“......” You faltered, crossing your arms. “Touche. But this time, I really know what I’m doing.” With the utmost confidence and summoned strength you tilted Felix’s chair back, causing him to panic. “C’mon. Help me get this up through the attic.”

-〤〤〤-

Glitter glue. Hair dye. A bucket.

Truth be told, you actually did manage to go back and secure Felix’s belongings. It was around some point during the creation of the gigantic net at Hobby Lobby: F/n had seen them while running around, snagged it, and stashed the goods in the car without telling you.

Now, you were going to use them against the enemy. If only you knew what the wrench from Home Depot was for… “Okay, listen up,” you stated, standing proudly on your roof. F/n stood at your side, Felix in between you two, still strapped to the dining room chair. Though the Kleenex were now gone, his pie hole remained shut...with Puffs. Not the good brand, F/n had said. “We have your friend, and as you can clearly see, he’s fine. We haven’t done anything to him.”

“Yet,” Hyunjin sneered, standing atop Han’s roof. He crossed his arms at Han’s right, Fox-face (Jeongin) on the left. “I fail to see how tying him up and stuffing his mouth shut equates to not doing anything.”

“Hyunjin, enough big words,” Han moaned. “We get it, you’re good at Scrabble, and you should have won. Lay off already.”

Hyunjin growled, making a face. From the opposing roof, you lowered your mic, extending your hand left. F/n glanced sideways, placing the box of hair dye in your hand. The situation on the other side swiftly grew stiff, everyone’s eyes watching you expectantly.

“Y-Y/n...what are you doing?”

It came out as more of a statement than a question. A fretful smirk played on the corner of your lips. “Oh my, what am I doing? …”

Yours fingers got right to work tearing open the packaging. Felix turned his head as far as his binding would let him, his eyes widening and brows sinking beneath his coral-colored bangs the moment he recognized the object...and the word permanent etched within a warning sign. “Mmm! Mm-mm mmm! MMM!”

“Wait, Y/n,” F/n said, reaching out. They suddenly looked hesitant, unsure. “We never questioned him first. Shouldn’t we…”

You paused, tossing the box and plastic wrap over your shoulder. With any luck, it’d blow into Han Jisung’s yard; if not, you could just pick it up later. “What, now you’re getting cold feet?” You huffed. “You’re the one that was getting carried away before. I thought you were sick of all this crap.”

“I am...I am. I’m just saying, maybe we should have pressed him for answers before running up here.”

“After they started egging our house?! What, was I supposed to wait for toilet paper to fly through the trees and spray paint to stain our front door?!”

“No, I’m just saying—”

“I’m done talking!” Your eyes narrowed, focusing on Han’s. He was staring right back at you, an intense look residing. “I want revenge. I want action. This ends today.”

You popped the cap off the bottle of murky green liquid, Hyunjin and Jeongin both seeming to lose their posture as the cap flipped through the air, bouncing to the ground below. They started to squirm, much to your delight; though perhaps a little overdramatic; but it was about time the other side felt the same pain and turmoil you had. It’d been far too long an unjust imbalance.

But Han held his hands at peace, calming his soldiers and taking a step forward; sending the imbalance back where it was, in his favor. He cupped his hands around that loud mouth of his. “Y/n!!! Listen to me, you don’t wanna do this! ...I-I don’t think, anyway!”

He seemed nervous. Flustered. You actually had Han Jisung, Hellion of 117 Maple Street, in a nervous fluster.

The moment was sweet, rich, decadent and savory. In the air, a cool breeze blew by.

“I’m sorry? What was that?” You lifted the bottle over Felix’s head. His whole body tensed, slightly leaning away like a magnet that didn’t attract.

Han bit his lip, gaze flitting between your hand and the boy below. Behind him, Hyunjin and Jeongin watched with battered breath, biting their nails and covering the lower half of their faces. Han sighed, suddenly waving his hand behind him. “Jeongin, you shouldn’t see this. Cover your eyes. I don’t know if I can stop her.”

The boy frowned, shakily turning from Han’s voice back to you. “I-I can’t, Han...it’s too horrible, but I can’t look away.”

“Then get back inside. I’m sure Y/n will at least allow that much.”

Raising his brow at you in question, you carefully gave a single nod, watching the young fox-face go. Jeongin had never done anything to you, except for maybe participate in the egg-throwing debacle eight minutes ago. Otherwise, as far as you could tell, he was clean, just a bystander in Han’s antics.

As the roof door shut above Jeongin’s head, F/n gave you a worried look. “Y/n…” s/he said, turning to you sideways. “...Something’s not—”

“Shhh!” You spat. Your hand holding the bottle teetered towards a horizontal slant. “Not now. This makes things easier. One less groupie to worry about.”

“But Y/n—”

Felix could practically sense your movements, starting to squeal. “HAN! Please! I have an interview tomorrow and I don’t think they allow unnatural hair!!!”

F/n grunted, crossing their arms at being ignored. You listed your head to match the angle of the bottle. Revenge was so sweet. “Well, Han?”

It felt like an eternity went by. Everything was still, calm, the only noise to be heard the rustling of the trees. A distant clicking that was probably just the other neighbor’s cat. You felt like you were in a Shonen anime, where the characters face off for episodes at a time with nothing but empty heated stares and uselessly repeated banter (usually flashbacks).

“......” Han Jisung swallowed. “Okay, Y/n, stop.” He sighed. “...You win.”

A heaviness released from your chest. You...won? That was it? Was he really just surrendering right now? No surprise counterattack? No negotiations?

Instead, Han Jisung and his last remaining sidekick glared pitifully in your direction, like all hope had fleeted from their grasp. Meaning…

You won. You actually won...

The biggest smile took over the lower half of your face, so happy you could have cheered, overjoyedly so, kissing your friend’s cheek. You squealed in delight, tossing the bottle in the air and not really caring where it landed, so excited, so stoked, so—

“Ow!” a young man’s voice said.

Gasp. What was that?! That didn’t sound like Felix or...your friend...that was...wasn’t...

“Y/n!!!”

You whirled around, just in time to see Jeongin standing at the height of your roof, stuffing your friend down the ladder. He paused, similar to how Felix had in Hobby Lobby; that deer in the headlights look; and with terrified effort kicked F/n down the attic, hopping in and letting the door drop after him.

Laughter could be heard bellowing along the wind, a hurricane billowing your direction. You whirled around, flabbergasted, horrified to see Han Jisung with that coy smirk on his face, that evil glint in his eye, the long-legged Hyunjin doing a memey sort of dance, as the two of them laughing it up at your expense. Even Felix, still bound to the chair, was…

...Well, actually, he looked rather annoyed and a little pissed. “HEY!” he griped, stamping his feet. “What happened to releasing me first?! I thought that was part of the plan!”

Plan…? ……

“You mean…” You glared expressionless. “This was all setup...from the beginning? Even Hobby Lobby?”

“Duh,” Hyunjin piped, giving you an incredulous look. “We saw you and F/n heading that way, so I called Felix while Han coached Jeongin on the art of...sneaking onto other's property. We knew the two of you were probably at your breaking point, given how you were screaming all the way down the street…” He shrugged. “We figured you’d try to retaliate. It was too good to pass up.”

“......”

Anger wasn’t enough anymore. You were downright enraged, seething...and also, a bit heartbroken. A lot heartbroken. It was all planned. Your revenge was just another part of their game. They anticipated it, adjusted to it, even arranged it. It was all for not...and, what’s more…

Now they had F/n. The Fox-faced demon would be scampering out of your house and into the devil’s layer at any minute.

But he’d made a fatal mistake. You still had one of their own in your grasp.

With the utmost vexation and irritability you screamed, grabbing the bottle of hair dye from where it got caught between two shilling panels and tore the whole lid off, dumping the entire bottle into Felix’s hair. Han and Hyunjin froze in the middle of their victorious dance ritual to watch in horror as Felix screeched, trying to shake the substance out and make any feeble attempt he could to get away. You ripped open the glitter glue next, aiming it right at his scalp.

“Give F/n back right now or I’m adding glitter. Lots of it.”

“......”

Han Jisung and Hwang Hyunjin just continued to stare at you dumbfounded. Because they didn’t respond, you emptied the entire container, not caring if it seeped into the boy’s eyes as you dropped everything else for the attic door.

“OH SH*T! MY EYES! MY FACE! YOU GUYS SUCK! AHH—”

The roof latch clicked behind you.

Flying down the ladder and around the hall you ran with all your might for the front door. Surprisingly enough, however, Jeongin was having a tough time getting there himself, wrestling with F/n for a position that allowed him to keep them quiet while having the freedom to move quickly. Unfortunately for him, F/n wasn’t going down without a fight.

“Let...go…! Get…off…...ahh! Y/n!!!”

They were wrestling at the end of the hall, just above the stairs. You pushed yourself harder, faster, ready to pulverize this kid you once found cute and adorable.

Something was off, though. You noticed as you got closer. The way they fought— it was almost too carefully, like they were trying to avoid hitting something.

You found out too little too late. F/n’s eyes widened.

“Y/n, no, look out—!”

Fwoosh!

Your foot tripped over a wire, and the three of you went tumbling upwards.

You couldn’t believe you fell for the same trick twice.

-〤〤〤-

“Hold still,” Hyunjin groaned, clawing at Felix’s bindings. The boy practically refused, squirming with all his might.

“I’m holding still! I can’t see!”

“What does that have to do with being still?!”

Felix fumed.

Han Jisung made his way to the top of the ladder, rolling onto his back to catch his breath. It wasn’t like he wanted to drive Y/n to do this. Rather, he was just having a little fun, passing time, and essentially, getting to know her.

She was the girl he thought about spending quite a bit of his life with, after all.

He turned his head sideways, taking in the view of the mountains, the small forestry area, the big city on the other side. Dang it, he knew Y/n’s roof had a better view of the area. “Both of you...quit whining...for a sec…”

He fought to catch his breath. Normally he thought himself to be in pretty good shape, but maybe eating a whole cheesecake and slacking off last week for that Netflix marathon put him back a few steps. Diagonally above him, Hyunjin sighed, removing the last of Felix’s restraints. “Okay, there. You’re free now.”

Felix stood, immediately rubbing his shirt over his face and stretching his arms out wide, then his legs. He looked around.

“Something wrong?” Hyun asked. Felix began to sweat, visible from a mile away.

“Oh, gosh, you guys. I still can’t see. I think I’m legally blonde.”

“......” Hyunjin blinked. “You mean legally blind? Legally Blonde is a movie.” He glanced up at his sparkling dishwater-green hair. “Also, your hair’s green now. An ugly green. And shiny. Too shiny—”

“Both of you shhh,” Han griped, sitting up sideways. He pushed himself up all the way, stumbling diagonally as he hiked up toward the other side of the roof. “Has Jeongin come out yet? Where’s Y/n?”

“I don’t know,” Felix spoke, swatting at his surroundings. “I can’t see anything.”

“He obviously wasn’t talking to you,” Hyunjin piped. He leaned over the edge, examining the front porch, then the lawn. “...I don’t know either. I didn’t hear the front door but, then again, I couldn’t hear anything with Whines-A-Lot back here blubbering so loud.”

“Why are you in such a bad mood today? Normally you’re really sweet and chill. And why is everyone attacking me all of a sudden?! I’m the one that agreed to be the bait of this operation! Me!”

“Okay, okay,” Han waved his hands. He really hated being the responsible one, but with these two at each other's throats and Jeongin nowhere to be found, he really had no other choice. “Felix, go inside and see if you can find Jeongin. Or Y/n. Anyone.”

Felix scoffed, throwing his hands in the air like a tossed salad. “Oh, yeah. Send the blind guy in. That plan always works. Makes total sense!”

“Oh, right...uhh, Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin scrunched up his face. “No way. I’m not going in there. Breaking and entering is not going on my personal record. Pranks are fine, but I’m not violating the law. That’s your department, Mr. Fifteen-Unpaid-Speeding-Tickets.”

“......” Groaning, Han made his way to the top of the roof, kneeling just short of the peak to pull the lever. However, the door wouldn’t budge. “...It’s locked.”

“Locked?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Locked.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Shoot, why would she stop to lock the door? Now wh—”

“HAN JISUNG!!!”

All three college boys froze. Crouching, they whipped their heads around wildly. Even Felix. “What was that?!” He asked. “Was that Y/n?!”

“HAN!!!” Another called. Smaller, lighter, yet contradictingly more masculine. Hyunjin gasped.

“That sounded like Jeongin!”

Then, suddenly, all three missing voices meshed together, the chorus dark and booming: “LET US OUT! LET US OUT LET US OUT LET US OUT!!!”

Hyunjin jumped to his feet, kicking and pounding at the door. “Quick, open the door! We have to rescue Jeongin!”

Han’s jaw fell a little. “What about Y/n?”

“What about her?!” He grunted, hitting the door harder. “Jeongin is our first priority!”

“I thought you didn’t like breaking and entering,” Felix sneered from the back, still waving at the air like a recently-blind person would. His elder tsked, scowling.

“It’s not breaking and entering if someone’s life is in danger! Han, what the hell kind of trap did you put in there?!”

Han blinked, trying to process. Everything had gone South so quickly, curved in a direction he wasn’t expecting— he couldn’t think. His mind drew up blanks. Never in his thirteen years of pranking history had he ever not been in control of his own crafty work.

Now his work was playing a joke on him. “Han! Hello?! Earth to Jisung?”

“...I…”

“What did you do in there?!”

“......” He swallowed, barely regaining his composure. “I set up another net. Just a quick one, like the one from earlier today.”

“What?!” Hyunjin roared. “But that took me all morning! How did you do it in five minutes?!”

“I didn’t,” he replied. “I did it in four.”

Hyunjin deadpanned, smacking a hand over his face. “‘Kay…how did you manage to pull that off?”

His superior in the art of mischief fell back on his behind, staring out seamlessly at nothing in particular. Obnoxiously calm for the circumstances. “I’ve been sneaking into her house every now and then when she left the back door open. I’d set up a small part here, or a spring wire there, just small stuff out of the way that no one’d notice. They’ve hardly been home with midterms going around.”

“......” Hyunjin shook his head in disbelief. “Han, there’s no way they wouldn’t notice or not accidentally set something like that off until now.”

Han turned back to him in earnest. “I just set the final wire down this afternoon. The activation one. One of them— probably Y/n— tripped over it.”

“...If that’s true, then…”

Another sonorous from down below reached the canopies above: “LET US OUT!!!”

Hyunjin dropped back on all fours. “LET US IN!!!” he cried, pounding on the hardwood door. “Jeongin, buddy, it’s going to be oka—”

“Come on!” Han said, leaping to his feet. He grabbed Felix by the wrist, tugging the two along behind him before making a crash landing for the bushes. No time to waste now. He needed to get his act together, take a leap of faith that, maybe, if he played his cards right, Y/n could see him in a whole new light.

It would be a long shot. If he remembered to jump from the right spot, anyway. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!” Both boys screamed, clinging to each other’s sides. They hit the shrubs, bouncing forward and rolling into Y/n’s front yard.

“...Was that a trampoline???” Felix asked. Han scoffed, shoving the two off of him.

“I planted an emergency escape device in her bushes last week, just in case.” He dusted himself off, screwing his head on straight while jogging to the front porch. “What do I look like, stupid or something?”

“......” Hyunjin watched him cross to the front door, lying upside down. “Do you want us to answer that?”

“...No.”

Han rang the doorbell. Stamped his foot. Remembered all house guests and tenants were currently tied up at the moment, slapped himself, panicked. He banged his fist against the door.

“Y/n?! It’s okay! Daddy’s going to fix this!”

Hyunjin made a noise (he was full of noises), tromping up the steps while Felix rolled himself around in the yard, trying to figure out which way was up and what he should do with himself. “Did you just call yourself—”

“Yes, now shut up.” Han dug around in his pocket, pulling out a key. “Heh heh heh…”

He jimmied the lock, twisting and turning the key this way and that. But the door wouldn’t budge, not even an inch.

“Sh*t!” He grabbed his hair. “Why isn’t this working?! I made copies of her keys three weeks ago!”

Hyunjin glared sideways. “You changed out her locks two weeks ago.”

Shoot, that was right. Han kicked the door, fuming. “Dang it! ...Ow!”

He was spent. Gone. Energy depleting. And now, his foot hurt. Spinning around he banged his head against the door, sliding down to sulk on his backside.

He hadn’t meant for things to go awry. He’d just wanted to mess with Y/n, see what made her tick, have some fun. Find out what she liked, what she didn’t like, maybe get up the nerve to ask her what she was doing for dinner next Saturday so he could mess with the food at her favorite restaurant and force her to come to a candle-lit dinner in his backyard instead, where he’d have her second-favorite takeout waiting on plates of gold he’d “borrowed” from Hyunjin’s aunt.

If only things would have worked out that way. “LET US OUT LET US OUT LET US OUT!!!” the house called.

Hyun and Han shared a pitiful look, plastering themselves to the walls and door. They had no choice. There was nothing left. “LET US IN LET US IN LET US IN!!!”

“HAN JISU— …”

Quiet. That was strange. What was it quiet?! What happened?! What could have—

...Oh no. What if…!

“DON’T HURT JEONGIN!” Han screamed, pressing his nose to the glass. “PLEASE! Y/N F/N PLEASE HYUNJIN WILL KILL ME IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO HIM!!!”

“WHAT?!” Hyunjin yelled, pressing against the glass as well. “Move over, I can’t see! WHAT ARE YOU FIENDISH PEOPLE DOING TO HIM?!”

There was no response. Han began sweating profusely, feeling his heart ready to burst in a bad way. This was it. It was over. He’d have to call the cops to have them released, and then Han would probably go to jail for twenty-seven misdemeanors and a couple felony charges. Not to mention those unpaid speeding tickets.

Chink. Clunk. Creek.

A force against him gave way, the front door magically opening. As Han and Hyunjin fell forward, a blind, sparkling, green-haired man smiled down at them, standing at the other side.

-〤〤〤-

The clamouring coming from your front door set you on edge, wiggling and slashing at the ties that bound you. And F/n. And Jeongin.

The three of you piled on top of each other in an awkward heap, you being fortunate enough to have flipped on top. “Ow! Y/n, get your foot out of my eye!” F/n cried.

Apologetically, you shifted your weight, trying to give them room in the small net. Jeongin huffed as you did, making the most cumberous and uncomfortable face as you shifted your bottom over his backside, close to his head. “This is your fault for sneaking in here and trying to kidnap F/n,” you scolded, only feeling a little sorry given the circumstances.

He blushed, perplexingly so, carefully trying to claw his way to a corner that didn’t exist. “I, um...I’m sorry…”

Like that was enough to get the three of you out of this arrangement. Rolling your eyes, you focused your attention on the front door you could just barely see, tuning your ears to adjust and pick up on anything.

“What are they saying?” F/n asked. You shrugged, huffing and puffing disorderly.

“I don’t know. I can barely hear anything. They’re whispering. They keep looking over here, though.”

“Who opened the door?! How did they get in here???”

F/n was currently squished with their head facing the opposite direction, explaining their heighted insecurity and naggingness. You sighed, squinting and rocking your weight in order to make the small flexible cage sway to better see around the corner. “I think...Felix let them in. He must have used the back door or something.”

“Son of a b*tch, Y/n!!!” F/n quietly fumed. “This is why I always tell you to make sure both doors are locked! You never think to check the back door and it drives me crazy!!!”

“I know, I know okay?! Calm down! You’re gonna draw attention!”

“HAN!!!” Jeongin suddenly screamed. “FELIX! GET ME OUT OF THIS THING!!!”

Both you and F/n panicked. “SHHHHHHHH!!!”

He regarded the two of you like you were crazy. “Just five minutes ago you were screaming too!”

F/n hissed. “Yeah, well that was five minutes ago, and this is now!”

Jeongin sighed. “Listen, this is really uncomfortable for me, especially because you’re sitting...entirely too close to me,” he spoke, “so how about I make a deal with you two?”

“No way. I don’t make deals with demons. Or vipers, or monsters, or Fox-faced devils that sneak into our house and try to kidnap me!!!”

Jeongin sighed again, letting out a slight hiss of annoyance at the end. At the base of the stairs, Han and Hyunjin started making their ascent, Felix stumbling around a bit with a bandana now over his eyes before following after them.

“Oh shoot,” you whispered. “Here they come.”

Making his way around the net once, Han paused right square before you; and there it was, that evil flirtatious wink, tongue sweeping over his lips scarcely so. “S’up, gorgeous?”

Shoot me. I want to die.

Han poked your nose, making a little annoying sound effect and laughing when you teetered backwards, swatting away at the germs he left on your face. “Aww, I think someone doesn’t like their situation very much.”

“Lay off. Get us out of this stupid thing and then get the hell out. If you don’t, I’m calling the cops.”

Han chuckled and slapped his leg like you were just the cutest little thing to him. “Oh, alright, calm down princess. You’re just sour over falling for the same trick twice.”

It burned you how much truth there was to those words. You would have spit at him if F/n wasn’t at risk of being in the line of fire. “Just shut up and get us out of here. Take your friend with you.”

Tangled up behind you, Jeongin sputtered; you could feel him roll his eyes. “Gladly,” he muttered.

After admiring your pissed-off look for a few seconds, and Han taking a few selfies for his own selfish gain, Han and Hyunjin got right to work, snipping wires here, tugging at rope there. Eventually, after a few moments of unblissful trepidation and embarrassment, the net lowered gently, falling lifelessly about a foot above ground.

The three of you groaned, F/n having the wind knocked out of them for a second. Scampering and shoving off of each other, you turned away the moment you found your legs, brushing yourself off and walking down the hall a few paces. Your feet prickled with numbness, then faded and blood rushed through.

When you turned around to check on F/n and kick everyone else out, Han Jisung had already found his way to your face. “Hey there, gorgeous. All better?”

You scowled most irately, placing your hands on his chest to push him off and startling yourself when he wouldn’t budge, and your hands just...stayed there. “Get out of here. You got us out, now you’re no longer welcome.”

“Oh, was that all you needed from me?” He smiled. Almost tenderly. Or maybe it was, you didn’t know. “I’m hurt, Y/n. I thought maybe we could...talk more. Get to know one another.”

“What?!” You tried to see around him, but he mirrored your every step and movement. When you pulled your hands away, he latched onto your wrists, placing them back. His fingers smoothed over the backs of your hands, intertwining with yours. You gulped, a feeling in your gut exploding.

“This is nice,” he said softly, giving your hands a gentle squeeze. “Isn’t it?”

It most certainly was not nice. Not nice at all! ...Yet, you were having quite a bit of trouble telling him that. His hands were so soft and...rigid...even the small calluses that sprouted along his palms and outline were somehow oddly alluring, inviting you to stay.

You shivered, bristling all over. No, no. Get ahold of yourself Y/n. This can’t happen. I can’t go down like this.

Shaking your head you shoved yourself back instead, running two steps to the right...and slamming gently into the adjacent wall. Gently. Softly. Softly slamming.

What the hell, why was everything with Han Jisung so soft all of a sudden?! You bore your eyes up at him, seeing as he was now just...inches away from you...again...g-getting closer…

His nose brushed right up against yours. A breath caught in your throat, begging to scream. Everything else in your body was. He had slithered himself to press up against you.

You’re pretty sure, even if you couldn’t feel it, your face was the darkest shade of red right now. Han undoubtedly noticed too, simpering just a fraction from your lips. “What should we do now, princess? Should we…” He inched your waist forward. “...go next door?”

Next door. Next door, where the hellhole of disasters had started.

...Something about that line just didn’t sit right with you. Feeling as if the whole moment had been ruined (and good gravy you had to get out of this), you shimmied yourself a bit of wiggle room and shot your knee skyward, wincing as a howl of pain rang out in your ear. You kicked Han back, making a run for F/n…

...Who was again, gone. Everyone was gone.

Turning around, Han gave you a childish salute, that flirtatious wink following him all the way out the front door. You couldn’t do anything. Just observe him leave in shock.

Until you heard a thump from downstairs, and raced to find Felix feeling his way around the kitchen.

“Now, I know there’s a backdoor somewhere...it was in here when I came in…”

You bore your eyes into him. Smirked.

Five minutes later, his whines echoed all through the house and down the porch steps.

-〤〤〤-

It may not have been high noon, but that didn’t stop Hyunjin and Fox-face Jeongin from turning on an old western showdown score.

You stood on your side of the property line, Felix rebound though now standing at your side. If he was miffed about his hair and the overzealous glitter drawing attention to it, he didn’t say anything. Possibly because being temporarily blind was pulling all his attention away.

On the other side, about ten or twelve meters from the line, stood Han Jisung, in all his hellion, dark-profiled glory. F/n was bound and gagged beside him, looking like a tick about to pop. You’d never seen that vein before, throbbing above their forehead. Hyunjin and Jeongin observed from afar, amongst the safety of shade and porch railing.

You lifted the megaphone you’d brought back with you from the roof. “On the count of three,” you instructed, gripping Felix’s sleeve tight.

Han Jisung cackled, or his eyes did anyway, a sparkle of humor at play. “Alright. Hostage exchange on three.”

“Okay…”

You both paced exactly twenty-something steps until you were only two feet from the line.

“One…”

“Two…”

“...Thre—”

“Wait.”

Your mind did a little flip, attention spiraling upward. “What?”

The hellion next door smirked. “I have one condition.”

“Oh?” You sputtered. “So do I.”

“Ladies first.”

You deadpanned. “Stop intervening and disturbing my life and F/n’s sanity and I won’t call the cops.”

He laughed, a very hearty, joyful sound. It sort of...made your heart spin. “That’s fair. I can agree to those terms...if you agree to mine.” You scoffed.

“And what would that be?”

Han Jisung smiled. Brighter than the sun. For once, it was almost as if he was revealing a side of his persona to you he’d kept locked away all this time; he suddenly appeared to be genuine, sincere, and oh-so benevolent. Not to mention handsome. “Go on a date with me. Saturday, at five.”

“What?!”

The world came to a crash. Everything just seemed to stop, the birds even dropping like flies to gawk at the enigma that was Han Jisung. Behind him and to the left, Jeongin and Hyunjin stared at each other in bewilderment. Felix muttered some kind of disbelief beneath his breath. F/n looked like s/he really would pop.

“Mmm?!” They shrieked. Han chuckled, ruffling his hair away from his face and casting squinted eyes out over the neighborhood.

“Yeah, uh...I’ll pick you up at five, if you like. I mean, you have to, because this is a condition. My deal. Where we’re going is a surprise, but I can give you a hint.” He leaned forward, twitching his nose a bit. “There’s a lot of action going on in the color department, and it usually gives me an allergy attack. But, I figured you may enjoy watching my face fall apart.”

“.........”

Slowly, you adjusted your gaze over to F/n. They were shaking their head wildly, though limitedly, so as not to tip off anyone.

“.........” You turned your face back to Han Jisung. “...Make it five-thirty. I have an errand to run that day.”

He bit his lower lip to keep from smiling too much. “Deal. Okay, on three. One…”

“Two…”

“Three.”

You each pushed your captives over at the same time, Felix and F/n stumbling forward over the property line. Hyunjin and Jeongin raced down into the lawn while you quickly got to work untying and freeing your housemate.

S/he turned and looked to you with the utmost confusion and disappointment in their eyes. You smiled, sadly, and turning away watched as three of the four boys embraced and spat at each other, Hyunjin and Jeongin poking and teasing Felix about his hair, and Han Jisung watching you back with stars in his eyes. Once a hellion, it was as if a great fog had lifted over the valley, and now you could see he was both day and night. A myriad of sunlight, and a mischievous moon.

“You’re not really going on a date with him,” F/n scolded, walking in sync with you up the porch steps and in through the front door. You waited until they were safely inside and halfway to the kitchen for another drink, waving and even winking in Han Jisung’s direction. It caught him off guard, and you snickered at his confused stare.

“We’ll see,” is all you said, shutting the door behind you.

-〤〤〤-

Saturday, 5:25 p.m.

Your house mysteriously felt like the Island of the Lost.

“F/n! Have you seen my hairbrush?!”

Running back and forth in front of the TV, up and down the stairs, rummaging through both bathrooms, F/n sighed, annoyed at having their early-evening talk show interrupted. They set the TV on mute. “What are you looking for? Your hairbrush?”

You nodded, heading back towards the upstairs bath. F/n jumped up from a commercial break, following you.

“How did you manage to lose your hairbrush? Sheesh, Y/n, you’ve been forgetful all day.”

You turned toward the mirror, staring worrisome eyes at the curlers in your hair, the sloppily-applied two minute makeup job on your face. F/n noticed as well, giving a small pout as s/he crossed their arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Where are you going, anyway?”

Uh-oh. “Hmm...?”

You pretended not to hear that. F/n blinked, their face falling to an unimpressed state. “I asked, where are you going?”

“......”

Downstairs, the doorbell rang. Crap. It wasn’t five-thirty yet!

F/n turned toward the sound, their brows lifting in minor surprise. “Who could that be? Are you expecting a package or anything?”

They began wandering in the direction of the staircase, but you cringed, throwing yourself as a blockade. “Ahahahahahahaha! …” Sweat. “...I-I’ll get it. You should get back to your show!”

F/n gasped, pushing past you and gracefully making a sharp left just a few feet from the door. Phew.

You peered around the corner, trying to make out the silhouette through the foggy glass.

Tall-ish. A bit on the short side. Skinny? Seemingly masculine.

It had to be him. Panic struck you like a bat out of hell, scrambling to the bathroom and ripping the curlers out of your hair. You fought through three bottles of creams and mascara while juggling your toothbrush hanging out of your mouth, rinsing, spitting, and finally flipping your hair down, shaking it loose and flipping back over.

Oh yeah. Messy-chic look. Perfect. With a touch of gloss (or lipstick) you smoothed out your casual-dressy outfit before skipping downstairs and slipping on your favorite dress shoes at the door, purse slung over your bodice.

This was it. You discreetly shifted your eyes to the left. F/n was still inthralld in their talk show. Now was your chance for a clean getaway without any awkward accusations or encounters.

Taking a deep, measured breath, you gingerly opened the door, blowing it out on the exhale. Han Jisung stood in all his new-lighted glory, his back turned to you as he examined the neighborhood, waiting.

You gave a small cough, stepping out and locking up behind you. Han turned around, his eyes widening when he saw you. “Whoa...uh…”

“Yes?” Your gaze traveled down to the flowers in his hand. “Are those for me, or an apology to F/n?”

You both laughed, Han thrusting them forward a bit forcefully. An awkward color painted a ring around his face, across his ears and along the curves of his cheeks. “Uh, b-both, I guess. ...But, mainly for you.”

He was nervous. For real this time. You smiled, taking the small bouquet and burying your face into the petals. You inhaled deeply. “...Mmm...they smell really nice!”

You beamed. For maybe five seconds. After that, a spout of water soaked your forehead.

Han Jisung pressed his lips together, trying his darndest not to laugh. His eyes avoided you entirely, observing everything but your face. A moment later, he bolted, signalling for his groupies to turn on the sprinklers. Coffee rained down on both of your lawns, dyeing both sides murky Vanilla Latte.

You chased him down the porch steps, through the caffeinated shower, laughing.

-〤〤〤-

“...And that about wraps up our show for today!”

F/n flipped the TV off, turning their gaze to the window. Is it raining already?

As they approached the window, their jaw fell. They opened the window. “Y/N!!! HAN JISUNG!!!”

...It was no use.

Pulling up a chair, they fell to their knees, observing the bizarre weather in a moment of acceptance. They extended their mug over the windowsill, sighing as the caffeinated shower refilled their morning latte.

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

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onceinabluehanguangjun · 4 years ago

Text

ao3

“I need you to do me a favor.”

“Isn’t my entire life just a series of me doing you favors?”

Wei Ying grinned wildly as Wen Qing glared a hole into his face, as per usual. Neither of them broke until her little brother, Wen Ning, quietly laughed at them with his eyes on the cup of tea in his hand. Wen Qing softened almost immediately and Wei Ying stuck his tongue out.

“What do you need, Qingqing?”

Wen Qing rolled her eyes, but she sat up a little straighter to sell whatever favor she needed from him.

“You know how my school does little carnival-esque fundraisers where everyone sets up a booth and shit?” she asked. Wei Ying nodded.

“Because they’re stupid rich and somehow wanna suck even more money from their students, including the ones who are there on scholarship, yes, I know how it does that.”

“Exactly,” Wen Qing agreed, taking a deep breath, “My group‒just me and a couple of other scholarship students‒decided to do a kissing booth because they’ve done well in the past years and I’m not trying to get on the dean’s bad side.”

“Oooh, a kissing booth? How shameless! Do you need me to do your makeup so you get more willing participants?” Wei Ying teased. Wen Qing stared at him blankly until he laughed and gestured for her to continue.

“I need your help finding someone to, like, be the face and do all the kissing. Someone rich people will want to pay to kiss. I need a guy, Mianmian’s already agreed to take one for the team,” Wen Qing said. Wei Ying’s smile slowly found his face.

“Alright, alright, I’ll do it.”

“That’s not at all where I was‒”

“I understand, I’m irresistible! And I’m a great kisser, so they’ll probably even come back for seconds,” Wei Ying insisted, sitting back. Wen Ning was back to suppressing his laughter.

“You don’t shut up long enough for anyone to kiss you,” Wen Qing said, “I was hoping for you to ask Lan Zhan, maybe.” Wei Ying scoffed.

“Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying repeated. He thought of his rigid next-door neighbor that he all but forced to be his best friend. He went to her ridiculous school and was one of the rich ones. Not that he wasn’t smart enough to get there on scholarship, but he had the money. Still, the idea of him at a kissing booth was laughable. “Lan Zhan would be terrible at that!”

“Why? He’s conventionally attractive, that’s what we need,” Wen Qing insisted.

“First of all, conventionally attractive sounds like an insult to him,” Wei Ying said, ignoring the way she took a deep breath of annoyance, “Second of all, he’s the most uptight person ever! I don’t think he kisses people. Or ever plans to. I can’t imagine him kissing anyone without being extremely uncomfortable and deciding never to do it again.”

“You can’t imagine him kissing anyone?” Wen Qing asked slowly, raising a dubious eyebrow. Wei Ying shook his head.

“No! He doesn’t even like being touched, why would want to kiss anyone? Silly suggestion. I’ll do great! Much better than he would,” Wei Ying said firmly. Wen Qing shook her head.

“I know you, you won’t like doing that.”

“What do you mean? I’m going to love it! Kissing rich randoms all day sounds awesome. Besides, maybe one of them can fall in love with me and I’ll have a sugar daddy. Or mommy. I’m not picky at this point,” Wei Ying insisted. Wen Qing closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Come on! Let me do it!”

“If you agree to this, you realize you can’t go back on it? You have to actually commit, you can’t chicken out,” Wen Qing insisted. Wei Ying gasped playfully, putting his hand over his heart.

“How dare you insinuate I’m not reliable! Ning-di, tell your sister I’m the most reliable person she’s ever met,” Wei Ying said. Wen Ning looked up with wide, doe eyes when he realized he was being dragged into the conversation. He looked between the two of them.

“Ying-ge did help me finish my project last week,” he said, “And every other project. And made sure it didn’t break on the way to school.”

“See! Reliable!”

“Helping my brother with homework is one thing, you kissing a bunch of people without panicking is another thing,” she said.

“Why would I panic?” Wei Ying scoffed.

Sure, he was almost 18 and hadn’t had his first kiss yet, but that was normal. Besides, what better way to get your first kiss over with than in the least sexy and most clinical way possible? It’d be like a practice round and when he had his first real kiss, then he’d be even better at it than he knew he already would be.

Still, Wen Qing fixed him with a look.

“Alright, fine. But when you freak out, you’re still gonna go through with it. See you next week.”

Wei Ying snorted as she stood up and he leaned towards Wen Ning.

“She loves me.”

“Yeah,” Wen Ning agreed. Wei Ying’s smile was a lot more genuine as he sat back in his chair, his cheeks tinted a bit red at the casualness of it. He was younger than him by a few years, barely 15 and ridiculously shy. But he wasn’t shy about how much he enjoyed Wei Ying’s friendship and that always threw him for a loop. “Bye, Ying-ge.”

“Bye! Text me if you need homework help,” he said, sending them off with a wave.

Wei Ying was left alone for just long enough to get a bit antsy with not much to do other than stare at his phone. However, Lan Zhan came to the rescue, as per usual, and filled the empty seat.

“Lan Zhan! How was orchestra practice?” Wei Ying asked, leaning forward. Lan Zhan, with his perfect posture and his cute little uniform and his adorable little curtain bangs, sat his bag in the chair beside him and carefully took a sip of the tea he’d ordered.

“Fine,” he said simply. Wei Ying nodded.

“That’s good. You just missed Wen Ning and Wen Qing, they were here. Oh, she mentioned that fundraiser. What booth are you doing?” he pressed. Lan Zhan looked at him through his eyelashes over the cup, momentarily making eye contact. Warmth bloomed in Wei Ying’s chest. He always felt special when Lan Zhan made eye contact with him. It reminded him that they really were friends and Lan Zhan didn’t hate him.

“No booth,” he answered, “Uncle agreed to simply donate the required amount so I wouldn’t have to attend.”

“Of course, of course,” Wei Ying said. He knew Lan Zhan wasn’t really a fan of crowds, so that made sense. “But, ah, well, I’ll be there, so maybe you’ll come by anyway?”

“You’ll be there?” Lan Zhan asked, slowly putting his cup down. Wei Ying smiled and nodded, leaning forward even more.

“Yeah, Wen Qing needed a guy to do the kissing booth,” Wei Ying said. Lan Zhan blinked a few times and his eyebrows raised.

“A kissing booth?”

“Yes!”

“And you will be… doing the kissing?” he asked. He had a similarly skeptical tone in his voice to Wen Qing and Wei Ying couldn’t help but make a hurt noise.

“Why does everyone think so little of me? I can kiss strangers with no problem!”

“Mn.”

“Lan Zhan!”

Lan Zhan kept his eyes on the table as he took another sip of tea. Wei Ying was really interested to know what about it made it seem so impossible that he would be willing to kiss strangers. Did he really seem that innocent and inexperienced? He clearly needed to work on the vibe he was giving off.

“It seems,” Lan Zhan said, pausing for a long moment as his grip tightened on his cup, “Unsanitary.”

“Ah, I’ll buy a whole bottle of mouthwash for the day, how’s that?” he says.

“Mn.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying called, leaning even further to the point his head was almost on the table and his arms were stretched out. Lan Zhan wasn’t smiling, but it was very close. His features had gone all soft and Wei Ying highly considered pinching his cheek. “You and Wen Qing are so mean to me. Can’t I have enough confidence to kiss half the girls in your school for money?”

Lan Zhan blinked slowly in that way that drove Wei Ying just a bit insane. He moved and spoke so slow sometimes. Wei Ying was convinced if he was anyone else, Lan Zhan would never be able to hold his attention. He even had to listen to podcasts on 1.5x speed just so he wouldn’t lose interest.

“Mn,” Lan Zhan said.

Wei Ying slumped in his chair and groaned.

“I’m going to prove it to you and Wen Qing that I’m entirely capable of pulling this off.”

“Alright.”

Wei Ying glared at him, but it didn’t last long. It was hard to glare at him for long. Instead, he sighed dramatically and took out his earbuds, the wire hanging as he held one of them out to Lan Zhan. He accepted it and slowly put it in his ear as Wei Ying put the other in his. They had to lean a bit into the counter to share, but they’d been doing this nearly every day for as long as Wei Ying could remember.

“This episode’s on King Leopold II.”

“Mn.”

Wei Ying was fine.

Every day leading up to the kissing booth, he’d been fine. Wen Qing had texted him and reminded him that he couldn’t back out and he would say, ‘why would I want to?!’ and he was serious. This would be fine.

But now that he was set to be there in two hours, he was starting to lose his nerve.

“Jiejie, do I look alright?” Wei Ying asked for what was probably the billionth time. Jiang Yanli looked up from her laptop and gave him a very thoughtful look so he wouldn’t call her out for just saying he looked good without thought.

“You look very handsome.”

“Handsome? I don’t need to look handsome, I need to look hot.”

“A-Ying, I think you’re going to have a line of people wanting to kiss you,” she insisted. Wei Ying sighed, dragging his body over to her. He fell to her bed dramatically and let himself indulge in the sound of her amused laughter as he dropped his head to her shoulder. “What’s wrong, A-Ying?”

He sighed, “Have you ever kissed anyone, Jiejie?”

“Yes,” she answered easily. He tried not to let the instinctive face of disgust take over.

“Do you think any of the girls will know I’ve never kissed anyone?”

“Well, probably not because it’ll be short kisses, won’t they? They’ll be none the wiser,” she said. Wei Ying still managed a pout.

“Will you beat them up if they laugh at me?”

“Of course I will,” Jiang Yanli laughed softly, her hand reaching up to tuck his hair behind his ear. Wei Ying nodded and tried to calm his mind down with her presence.

He was sad to see that it only helped a little bit.

“I’m gonna go change into something hotter,” he said. Jiang Yanli laughed and nodded.

“Alright. Don’t leave without a goodbye.”

“I won’t.”

Wei Ying made his way into his room and looked at himself in the mirror hanging on his closet. He’d left his hair down because he thought maybe he looked edgy, but he was beginning to think it was just a recipe for disaster. If he left it down, he’d just mess with it the entire time. He raked it into a messy ponytail and pulled a bit down to frame his face. His nails scraped over the shaved sides and wondered if those should be touched up too.

Instead of thinking too much about that, Wei Ying quickly changed his shirt again. This time he tried a black button-up which he stopped buttoning when the top four were undone. He stared at himself and buttoned another one and then stared at himself and then unbuttoned it.

“Why do I care so much? I’m never going to see these girls again. This is totally useless, this is just for practice,” he grumbled to himself, though he could already feel his face getting warmer and warmer by the minute. It was all fine when it was just a thing he agreed to. Now that he actually had to do it, well…

“Wei Ying?”

Wei Ying nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard his name, spinning around with his hand over his heart. Lan Zhan stood there in the doorway, hands neatly behind his back. There were many times in life where Wei Ying was happy to see him, but this was easily one of his favorites. He needed a distraction and Lan Zhan was good at that.

“Warn a man next time, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, though he was thankful for being startled. For a moment, his head emptied.

“Mn,” Lan Zhan said, taking a step inside his bedroom.

“What are you doing here? Not that I don’t like seeing your face, but I figured you’d be spending the evening curled up with a good book or, or a movie. Or a new K-Drama, maybe. Something other than thinking about the lame fundraiser. Super lame, you know,” Wei Ying rambled.

Lan Zhan nodded and his hand reached out the grab the edge of the door. Wei Ying’s eyes followed it as he closed it, leaving the two of them in the room alone. He could count on one hand how many times they’d been in a closed space completely alone. Somehow it made his throat feel dry. Though, that might be him freaking out about the kissing booth still.

“Wen Qing asked me to check on you,” Lan Zhan said, “To make sure you were alright.”

“I’m fine,” Wei Ying said, standing up straighter, “She needs to learn to stop babying me. I’m a grown man.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan hummed, his hands returning to the space behind his back as he took a step closer, “So I should tell her you aren’t worried.”

“I’m not! I’m fine!” Wei Ying said and if his voice was a bit higher than normal, so what.

Lan Zhan took a step back.

“Mn. I was going to help you relax, but if you’re relaxed, then I’ll go,” he said. It was bait and Wei Ying knew it was bait, but he couldn’t help himself but call out.

“Wait,” he said, pulling at the hem of his shirt, “What were you gonna do? Like, in case I was nervous.”

Wei Ying would never say it, but there was something about Lan Zhan that made his mind a bit easier. He seemed to quiet some of the noise just by being there. Yes, he spoke slow and moved slow, but that forced Wei Ying’s brain to do the same.

Lan Zhan took a step forward again.

“I was going to say that kissing isn’t that complicated,” he said. Wei Ying rolled his eyes.

“How would you know?” Lan Zhan’s eyebrow raised and Wei Ying’s stomach plummeted as it came to his attention that perhaps he’d been wrong about that. Lan Zhan took another step closer to him. Wei Ying swallowed. “I have a confession to make, Lan Zhan.”

“Mn.”

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” he said. Saying it out loud just made him feel even more nervous. “And now I feel stupid and like I’m going to embarass myself. All those girls have probably kissed a ton of guys and they’d be paying money just for me to let them down and then I’ll let Wen Qing down because they’ll tell their friends that it wasn’t that good. Then I’m going to have to come up with a way to pay for her share of the donation because it’ll be‒”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said, voice low and smooth and distracting.

“What?”

“Wei Ying,” he repeated, taking another step closer.

Wei Ying’s eyes shifted between his close proximity and the closed door. Lan Zhan’s hand moved from behind his back to reach up and gently place on Wei Ying’s jaw. His mind started spinning with a whole new wave of thoughts.

“Oh,” Wei Ying said seconds before Lan Zhan closed the space between them.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to happen‒mainly because what the fuck‒but Wei Ying found himself shocked when it lasted longer than a couple seconds like he was sure the kissing booth kisses were going to be. Instead, Lan Zhan tilted his head and parted his lips just a little, just enough to slot perfectly around Wei Ying’s bottom lip to give it a little kiss of its own. He then pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth and then another peck right on his lips before pulling back.

Wei Ying stood there, frozen as he stared at Lan Zhan with wide eyes. He hadn’t realized he wanted to do that.

“Close your eyes, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan instructed softly.

“Well, wait, are you gonna do that again?” Wei Ying asked. Lan Zhan got that whole soft-faced thing again and nodded, so Wei Ying promptly shut his eyes.

They were the same height so there truly was no reason for Lan Zhan to touch his chin and tilt his head up, but it certainly made things a bit more fun. Lan Zhan kissed him again, parting his lips again much sooner and Wei Ying followed suit. He mimicked the way Lan Zhan moved, hoping that it wasn’t too embarrassing and somehow not giving a shit even if it was. It was good.

And then Lan Zhan pushed his tongue past Wei Ying’s lips.

Wei Ying gasped in response, moving back just a little and Lan Zhan immediately stopped. He opened his eyes and made eye contact with him, up close and personal.

“You, like, actually know what you’re doing, don’t you?” Wei Ying asked.

“Mn.”

“Who have you been kissing, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying teased, feeling a bit more than giddy. He pushed himself onto his toes and draped his arms around his neck. Lan Zhan had to tilt his head back just a bit to maintain eye contact and Wei Ying was enamored. “Wait, wait, don’t talk, just keep going.”

“Mn.”

Lan Zhan met his lips again, his tongue immediately pressing into his mouth and this time Wei Ying was expecting it. It was a little weird, but it was nothing he couldn’t adjust to. Nothing he wanted to stop. Especially not when Lan Zhan easily held the brunt of his weight the more he pressed into his personal space, causing him to arch his back as he did so.

His hands slid down to Wei Ying’s hips, giving them a small squeeze as he tugged him closer. Wei Ying continued to mimic him‒copying the way his tongue moved, the way his teeth grazed his lips, the way he didn’t mind if it got a little messy and a little gross. It would probably be gross with anyone else.

It was all normal until Wei Ying made a needy little noise that he hadn’t intended. He could feel his face grow warm and he considered pulling back, but Lan Zhan’s hand moved back to his jaw and he kissed him deeper. Then Lan Zhan started backing him up until his legs hit his bed.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying gasped, trying to catch his breath as he broke the kiss. Lan Zhan’s eyes opened again and met him.

“Wei Ying,” he said.

Wei Ying tightened his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck, finding himself quite desperate to keep him in his grasp. Lan Zhan obliged by not even trying to leave as his hand rubbed up and down his side mindlessly. He wanted to stare at him forever.

“Lan Zhan, why’d you do that?” Wei Ying asked after he was back to breathing normally. Or, as normally as he could when he was still this close to Lan Zhan. He was pretty sure Lan Zhan could feel his heart thudding in his chest. “Were you just being polite so I wouldn’t embarrass myself?”

Lan Zhan didn’t say a word, didn’t even hum.

“Was it because you’re just a good friend?” Wei Ying asked. Again, no answer. A pout slowly started to form on Wei Ying’s face. “Lan Zhaaan, give me an answer. I need to know!”

Lan Zhan’s eyes trailed away from him and down to the pout on his lips. And then he moved forward and took his pouting lip between his teeth. Wei Ying made a noise in shock, but he didn’t move away as he felt Lan Zhan’s tongue graze his lip. Then he was being kissed again and all of his questions left his head as Lan Zhan all but pushed him onto his bed.

He didn’t care what his motives were, he just didn’t want it to stop.

Lan Zhan hovered over him, leaving a trail of kisses over his cheek and his jaw and then to his neck. Somehow, that was when Wei Ying’s brain actually shut down. His eyes closed and his lips parted as he tried to keep steady breaths, his body all too attuned to the way Lan Zhan kissed and sucked and bit at his neck. There was no reason that should’ve felt as good as it did. It helped that he had his weight on him. All he could feel was Lan Zhan.

“Lan Zhan,” he said, bowing his head into his shoulder and hoping he didn’t minimize Lan Zhan’s target area. He kept his arms around his shoulders, hugging him tight as he did whatever he was doing to his neck. “Ahh, Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan.”

It was all cut short, though, when Wei Ying’s phone started ringing.

He very much wanted to ignore it, wanted to just continue doing this, but Lan Zhan reached for it and handed it to him. His biting and sucking turned into more patient kitten licks, but it was still distracting as all hell.

“What?” Wei Ying asked as he answered the phone, not bothering to see who was calling. He just hoped it wasn’t either of his adoptive parents.

“I’m going to be at your house in two minutes, so be outside,” Wen Qing said. Wei Ying’s eyes widened as he remembered that not only did he have to stop, but he had to kiss other people after this. How the hell was he supposed to do that?

And maybe he finally understood why Wen Qing had been hesitant.

“Okay, yeah, yeah, I’ll be there. See you soon, Qingqing,” he said.

“You too, Wei Ying,” she said back and for once she sounded a bit fond.

The moment the call was over, Wei Ying groaned and kicked his feet childishlessly. Lan Zhan hummed in what seemed to be amusement against his collarbone.

“Lan Zhan, this has ruined me for everyone else this evening, do you understand? How am I supposed to kiss a line of girls after that?” he asked. Lan Zhan moved to prop himself up on his elbow, looking down at Wei Ying. If he wasn’t still pressed up against him, he probably would’ve thrown a fit.

“Mn,” Lan Zhan hummed, his fingers trailing idly up his body and to his neck where he pressed two fingers into a sore spot. Wei Ying furrowed his eyebrows and reached up to feel as well, still damp from Lan Zhan’s kisses. It took a few seconds to put together why it felt that way and his eyes went wide.

“Ahh,” he said, looking up to Lan Zhan, “Everyone’s gonna be able to see that in a few hours, won’t they?”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan agreed, the faintest of smiles on his lips, “I’m not.”

“Lan Zhan, you’re so cheeky, I can’t believe it!” Wei Ying laughed, wriggling a bit as he moved to lay on his side so he could be chest to chest with Lan Zhan, “Ah, but I have to go.”

“You do,” he said. Wei Ying pouted again, only slightly hoping that’d lead to more kisses.

“Maybe if I use mouthwash like I said I would, you’ll kiss me like that later? Or, like, tomorrow‒at the latest, just in case I get sick of kissing after the booth,” Wei Ying said.

“Whenever Wei Ying wants,” Lan Zhan agreed. Wei Ying smirked easily, nudging his knee into Lan Zhan’s.

“Ah, don’t say that, you’ll be stuck with me hanging off you like a leech every day for the rest of your life,” Wei Ying teased.

“Alright,” Lan Zhan agreed. Wei Ying immediately felt his face flush and he bowed his head against Lan Zhan’s chest, shaking his head.

“How am I supposed to think straight if you agree to things like that?!” he whined. Lan Zhan hummed.

“Hopefully you won’t.”

“Was that a joke?” Wei Ying asked, lifting his head and laughing easily. Lan Zhan was smiling at him bigger than he ever had before. “Oh, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, stop it, I have to go and you’re making that impossible.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan said, leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “Go.”

“And this isn’t the last time we do this, right? Like, I get more Lan Zhan kisses, you promise?” he asked, pushing himself up beginning to crawl over Lan Zhan’s body. He paused to hover over him and make eye contact to make sure this wasn’t just a very intense fever dream.

“Mn.”

“Okay then. I’ll go,” Wei Ying said, climbing off him slowly and taking a few wobbly steps backward. The further away he got, the more he got to take in the picturesque image of Lan Zhan laying in his bed. “And I’ll be back and I’m going to kiss you again.”

“Goodbye, Wei Ying.”

“Bye, Lan Zhan.”

Wei Ying somehow made it out of the front door in one piece, his heart still thudding as he thought about what just happened. He still wasn’t quite sure what it meant between them, but he did know it meant he probably wouldn’t have to worry about kissing too many strangers after this.

When Wen Qing pulled up in her old, beat-up car and he climbed into the passenger side, she gave him a once over.

“Wow,” she said, “You actually don’t look like you’re nervous. Guess Lan Zhan was actually helpful.”

“Yeah,” Wei Ying laughed, touching his bottom lip, “Super helpful.”

#wangxian #wangxian fic #wei wuxian #lan wangji #mdzs #the untamed #my fic

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