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bobohu4eva · 7 months ago

Text

Ecstasy

Part 5 - Psycho

Characters: Reader x Baekhyun Feat. Chanyeol

Genre: Soloist AU, smut, angst, fluff

WC: 5.4k

Tag List: @nana-banana @xzyxbbh @iluvybs @greasywall @endzii23 @scopoliax @silent-potato23-blog @baekyeonoreo

Warnings for this chapter: explicit smut, fuckin while on drugs (LSD), drug use and its consequences

A/N: In case everyone hasn't already forgotten about this series because I suck horrendously at updating! Sorry! This is also most definitely the most intense thing I have ever written! There's a reason it took me so goddamn long lol hopefully I can be a little more consistent from now on

Masterlist

Addiction (noun): Disorder characterized by compulsive engagement in rewarding stimuli despite adverse consequences

“When’s your next day off?”

He sent her the text a few days after their last night together, a whole day already planned for them in his mind. He just had to figure out how he’d make it happen.

She eagerly let him know, and he told her he’d be picking her up that morning, surprisingly early, but she didn’t question it, she was getting to see him, after all. And from what it sounded like, she’d get him all to herself, all day, at his lavish penthouse.

Baekhyun once again insisted on keeping his plans for them secret, so when that morning arrived and he picked her up, she had no idea what she was in store for. However the last time he’d refused to tell her his plans they ended up getting high, and she had a hunch that it might be something similar.

“Are you finally gonna tell me what we’re doing today?” She asked him once he’d started driving, this time showing up in a different car, a silver convertible Porsche.

‘Hmmm.. No, but I’ll show you once we get to my place. The last surprise was fun though, wasn't it?”

He took his eyes off the road for a second to look over at her, his taunting smile daring her to disagree with him, but knowing she wouldn’t dare.

“So more drugs?”

He grimaced, “sounds bad when you say it like that.”

“Am I wrong though?”

“If I tell you that would ruin the surprise.”

She just laughed and rolled her eyes, deciding to wait until she had more details to really judge.

“You’ve been working all week right? Any more run-ins with Mr Kim?”

As soon as he said it, her eyes went to his arm. Now that he was wearing a t-shirt, she could clearly make out the mark from the cigarette, the burn still not completely healed, and even then, it looked like it might scar.

“I should be the one asking you that, you know.”

She saw him glance down at his arm too. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“No, I likely won’t see him again for a while, thank god.” She frowned, still disappointed that he was so reluctant to talk about it. “What about you though? Do you work with him a lot?”

“Unfortunately, yeah.” He still looked uncomfortably serious, but he perked up in less than a second as he pulled into the garage of his building. “But that’s just showbiz baby.”

He was so nonchalant about it, and left no room for her to protest, so she simply allowed him to lead her up to his beautiful apartment once again.

She hadn’t given too much thought as to what drugs Baekhyun had planned for them to take that day, pretty much assuming that it would be mushrooms again, or maybe some weed or molly. But after digging around a bit in one of his kitchen drawers, he pulled out an envelope containing a small piece of colorful paper, with perforated lines criss-crossing it, dividing it into smaller pieces still. She’s never seen it in person before, but quickly recognized it as LSD.

Just like the time before, he saw the hesitance on her face.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Last time everything ended up fine, and we had a great time, didn’t we?”

“I know we did, but this is different isn’t it? I really don’t want it to be too much or something and start freaking out.”

He sighed, setting the envelope back down on the counter and coming to her, leaning in for a quick kiss. “It’s just the two of us here, no interruptions, no obligations, just you, and me. I won’t let anything bad happen. If you start to feel overwhelmed, just tell me and I’ll do whatever it is you need me to to help you calm back down. That day at Chanyeol's house was the most… at peace, I’ve felt in a long time. I’ve been thinking a lot about that day, and what we talked about, that’s why I want to try this with you.”

“You haven’t done this before either?”

“No, I have, but it’s been a while, I don’t remember much of it.”

“Why don’t you remember it?”

“It's a long story, but I don’t remember much from that time of my life in general.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he’d said the wrong thing, she looked uncomfortable again.

“Y/n, sweetheart.” He cooed, and her eyes met his, feeling his warm hands intertwining with her own. “You don’t have to do anything, and I don’t want to pressure you, this is just something I’ve had on my mind lately. I still want to get to know you better.”

“Is it not possible to do that without getting high?”

“Of course it is, but you know what I mean.”

She thought back to the day they'd had out at Chanyeol’s house, and she understood what he was saying. “Okay maybe.”

“So what do you say, hm?” His hands ran down her shoulders, then her arms, eyes never leaving hers. The slight tilt of his head and the way he looked at her with his best puppy eyes ruined any ability she might’ve had to reason with herself.

“Alright, if you’re sure it’s a good idea.”

He grinned, and finally he was kissing her, really kissing her, not like the little peck from earlier. His tongue slipped past her lips, and his hand held her face to his own. It didn’t take long for her to start feeling weak in the knees.

As he pulled away he turned to the counter, grabbing the envelope again. He tore off two of the little squares of paper, placing one on his own tongue, and the other on hers.

“What now?”

He shrugged, “It'll start to kick in in about an hour, have you eaten? I can order us something, or see what I have here.”

They ended up making breakfast together, and she was surprised by how sweet he was being to her, even more so than usual. It didn't just feel like the usual flirtation that went on with him. Despite not being much of a cook himself, he did his best to help out, and the way he rested his chin on her shoulder, singing softly in her ear as she stood in front of the stove, made her heart flutter. When she was done he thanked her, and told her time and time again how great the meal was.

By the time they were done eating, she realized she was starting to feel the effects of the drug. Colors were becoming more vibrant, and patterns would start to move if she looked at them for long enough. It wasn't entirely dissimilar from the mushrooms, but it was definitely still different, especially the way her body felt.

Baekhyun must've noticed the way she was staring off at things, or just the unusually large size of her pupils, since he asked, “how are you feeling?”

“I'm not sure.. kind of weird.”

“Come here.”

He led her to the big cozy looking couch in his living room, facing the windows overlooking the river. He sat down, and she followed suit, resting between his spread legs, leaning her head back on his chest. Some music began to play, and even though they were just sitting there, she felt like her mind was going into overdrive.

If the mushrooms made her feel heavy, more in touch with nature, LSD was the opposite. She was buzzing, electric, almost. It wasn't unpleasant, but she didn't exactly enjoy it either.

“Are you okay? Your heart is racing.”

She wouldn't have even realized it if he hadn't brought it up, but he was right.

“I.. don't know.”

“Y/n, baby.”

She turned around, until she was basically laying on top of him on the couch, facing him.

His pupils somehow grew even larger when her eyes met his, and for a good minute, neither of them could look away. The rest of his face looked just as inviting. His skin smooth and sunkissed, pretty features in perfect harmony. And then there were his lips. Soft, pink, asking to be kissed. Eventually she gave into the temptation, and their lips collided.

That was a feeling she had not been prepared for, even in the slightest.

It was like the excitement of kissing him for the very first time, that night at the club, had come rushing back tenfold.

It was he who eventually pulled away, still looking at her with a bit of concern. “You're shaking.”

He took one of her hands that had been resting on his chest into his own, further confirming his previous words.

“Did that not feel crazy for you too?”

The way she looked at him, eyes wide, panting and shaking at the intensity of it, made his chest swell with pride. Any concern he showed quickly melted away as he grinned back at her. “Kiss me again.”

He didn't have to ask twice. She pressed her lips to his without hesitation, moaning into the feeling as waves of euphoria washed over her.

Baekhyun, too, could feel how much more intense it was, kissing her and touching her with the added excitement the drug offered. The MDMA as well as the mushrooms had given a similar effect, but not nearly to the same degree.

While the mushrooms had made him sentimental, wanting to hold her, feel the way her chest rose and fell in sync with his own, the LSD made him ravenous. Sex, while high on mushrooms, didn't even seem possible. The overall heaviness of the body high simply didn't feel sexy, but now he could think of nothing else.

But Baekhyun knew that they had all day, and was in no rush. For what could've been anything from several minutes to a few hours, the drug blurring time into irrelevance, they simply laid there, lips pressing together again and again, until he pushed his tongue past her lips, smiling into it when she once again moaned at the newfound depth of the kiss. With both hands on her waist he felt the way she continued to shake, overwhelmed by the new sensations.

Not wanting to overwhelm her too much, and still enjoying the onset of the drug, Baekhyun eventually pulled away, standing up from the couch, with her following.

He leaned in, forehead resting against hers with a wide grin on his pretty face. “Wanna dance?”

She smiled back at him and nodded, and soon the room was full of music, something sexy that would make them want to move.

With one hand in his own he twirled her around, placing himself behind her, hands on her hips as they both swayed to the beat. The heat of his chest pressed to her back and his words in her ear as he sang along further heightened how intoxicated she already was. The room around her appeared to melt and shift in a colorful whirlwind, though she didn’t mind it, still more focused on the man behind her than anything else. With the music pulsating through her, his body pressed to hers, she gave into it, even tearing up a little as she kept moving her body. This was the definition of euphoria, she thought. It simply couldn’t get any better than this, the rush of it all so overwhelming that it moved her to tears.

When she spun around in his arms, attaching her lips to his own, she saw fireworks behind her eyelids, colorful bursts filling her vision even as her eyes were closed. Every touch of his hands brought waves of delight that surged through her without even an ounce of reluctance. Baekhyun noticed her tears, but he could feel it too, not questioning even for a second if they came from anything but pure happiness.

She let out a yelp when he momentarily broke away before scooping her up in his arms, and carrying her into the bedroom.

Baekhyun, too, felt the burning need for more, seeming almost frantic in the way he laid her down, wasting not a single second before slotting himself between her legs.

He was on fire, his tongue in her mouth, dancing with her own as he tugged on her clothes with a kind of impatience she’d never seen before. He thought he would be able to stay patient, savor the feeling and enjoy her with some restraint, but he now saw how wrong he’d been. With the high at it’s full intensity, he was insatiable, he wanted every piece of her, the craving for more so intense even he began to lose it, hands shaking as he got the clothes off her body. First her shirt, then her pants, and eventually her bra, all thrown haphazardly across the room, no care for anything but the need for more skin.

She arched into him, pushing her hands past his shirt, her touch against his bare abdomen bringing a gasp from him. After one more heated kiss he sat up, pulling the fabric over his head and fussing with his belt, finally getting that off as well. When he leaned back in, he didn’t kiss her, instead, he found himself taking her face in his hand, staring.

“So beautiful… You make me feel so fucking crazy, you have no idea.”

His eyes kept scanning her face, taking her in all he could, the way his words made her lip quiver, the blush on her cheeks, it was all perfection, the high adding an aura of effervescence. To him, she was glimmering, sparkling.

“You’ve been making me crazy ever since I met you.” She answered, knowing she was just as insane for him.

His lips pressed themselves to hers, this time though, something felt different to him. He felt himself almost start to tear up, though he fought it off, not wanting her to see the way it all overwhelmed him, too. The emotions roared to a new peak, making him sentimental, kissing her deeper, in love with the way her hands on his back pressed him further into her, never wanting her warmth to leave him, not then, not ever, as far as he was concerned.

“You’re mine, baby, mine.”

The words were pressed into the side of her neck between kisses, and when her voice failed her, all she could do was nod.

“I want to hear you say it.”

She tried to get it out, she really did, but when his fingers briefly met the waistband of her underwear the words got caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan.

He moved slowly, hungry lips making their way down her neck, spending some time nipping at the sensitive area near her collarbone, before finally giving attention to her bare chest. His hands too squeezed and pinched at the sensitive skin where his lips couldn’t reach, and the sounds she made were music to his ears, though he still wanted to hear those words more than anything else.

“Fuck, say it, please.”

“I’m yours.”

By that point the onslaught of emotion had completely overpowered her, simply giving into the way he touched her, too far gone to even think, making it near impossible to form words. It was all like a dream, his touch combined with the high whisking her away to another plane of existence, one where she could do little more than lay back, shaking, gasping, taking in the waves of pleasure that came her way. The weight of him between her thighs and his mouth and fingers as they teased her nipples felt like heaven and hell all at once, both divine and almost frighteningly tempting. He could see it in the way she looked up at him, eyes glazed over, nothing behind them but desire, a deep yearning for more, even if she couldn’t express it, the intensity rendering her speechless.

In the back of her mind she realized the staggering difference between how he acted then compared to every other time they'd been in bed together. She felt the urgency in the way he touched her, hands that were usually so steady, so confident, now shaking, along with his unsteady breaths. Never before had he voiced such possessiveness either, though it didn't feel out of place in the slightest. She knew she belonged to him, no other man would ever be able to compare. He was so exhilarating, she felt that the piece of paper she'd had was nothing, the real drug was him.

She was already out of her mind, and his hand had yet to venture between her legs. With his mouth still on her chest, kissing and nibbling and sucking at the soft curves, he slowly began to venture south, each kiss on her stomach adding more fuel to the fire within her. When his fingers finally hooked themselves into the waistband, slowly pulling the last piece of clothing off her body, a loud moan fell from her lips. She lay there underneath him, panting, mind in a whirlwind, completely exposed, waiting for more.

Baekhyun was eager to deliver. His mouth went straight in, licking up the wetness he’d coaxed from her thus far, the feeling of his tongue incessantly flicking her clit making her hips push against his face, pleading with him for more. The taste made him groan, vibrations coursing through her, his lips and tongue bringing her close to release quicker than she knew possible. From the very first touch she’s already lost control, twitching and nearly screaming at the strength of her own desire. It was all too much, the tension leaving her helpless to his touch, fingers in his hair as she came on his tongue in mere minutes.

The orgasm washed over her like a rushing waterfall, knocking any rational thought from her mind as she shook and gasped. It was a new experience completely, the added rush of her high bending her mind into an unfamiliar torrent of pleasure. Finally prying her eyes open to look down at him between her legs, the smirk present on his wet lips was pure eroticism, his handsome face a work of art. The onslaught of her high had been so paralyzing she hadn’t even noticed the substantial volume of her moans, not until Baekhyun commented,

“My baby can’t help being loud for me, hm?”

A whine escaped her, anticipation building even further as Baekhyun stripped off the last of his clothes. He reclaimed his place between her thighs, looking down at her flushed face, basking in the warmth of the moment as they both stared, entranced. The beads of sweat on his face appeared more like precious pearls, lips a soft pink pillow, eyes of deep chocolate brown, baiting her to get lost. Even with the way the drug made everything shift and twist about, he stayed still, shining, glowing, illuminating her entire world.

He leaned in, kissing her with an unexpected tenderness, soft lips moving with hers gently, almost carefully. When he pulled back his forehead rested against her own, eyes fixed on hers.

“Do you want more?”

She nodded without any hesitation, and the smile on his handsome face was enough for more butterflies to erupt within her. By that point she was dripping, throbbing, wanting nothing more than to finally feel him inside.

“Can you say it for me?”

“Please, Baekhyun. I want - I need- more. Fuck, please.”

Her eyes were filled with greed and impatience as she watched him grab the packet from the nightstand and roll a condom onto himself, wondering how he was still able to keep it together enough to even consider such a thing. The room continued to dance and shift about in a dream like kaleidoscope as he moved himself over her again, both an anchor and a source of even greater insanity to her.

When she felt him finally push inside, it was like she was experiencing it for the very first time. Now chest to chest, fully flush, surrounded by him completely, she felt herself break. The tears were back, and with every push of his hips into her, sparks filled her distorted vision. She tried to look up at him, but her eyes felt heavy, unable to concentrate on anything but the feeling of him above her, and inside her.

Baekhyun was no better off. The drug amplified everything to such a degree that he too found himself letting go of any restraint, letting the high take him wherever it so pleased. His moans, and the ever increasing cadence of his thrusts told her just how affected he was, too. She began to move with him, rolling her body into his more or less involuntarily, just wanting to feel more of him, and he did all he could to deliver.

When his eyes finally met hers again, his thumb moved to wipe away the tears, though they only communicated to him her immense and paralyzing delight. The way she looked up at him encouraged him further, his hips hitting her more deeply, savoring the feeling every time he entered her, again and again.

The drug had overpowered her senses so entirely, that the lines, the boundary between herself and him began to fade into obscurity, she was a part of him, and he, a part of her. She sensed his pleasure, and felt it in her own body, the same way she knew he felt her, too. They melted together, the high and the closeness of being so intimately connected merging them into one.

Every time he filled her, she felt him brush against that delicious spot deep inside that made her tremble. He was perfection, beyond perfection, even. Having him there with her, enjoying her as she enjoyed him, whisked them away to a different form of reality. Their shared altered consciousness made it all so much heavier, more real than any sexual experience they could have while sober. This was how it was always supposed to be, they were both sure of it.

His hand clutching her face brought her eyes back to his, whimpering at his intense gaze.

“Who do you belong to, baby?”

“You.” She replied weakly, barely able to get the word out.

“Say it again.”

“You- Baekhyun, oh my god.”

Her words stirred up a whirlwind inside him, his lips latching themselves onto the spot on her neck that made her weakest. The pace of his thrusts picked up even more, and she felt her whole body start to tingle, starting from the tips of her toes moving up her body in waves, until she was consumed by it, and again, she fell.

This orgasm was somehow even better than the last, leaving her shaking, gasping, seemingly tearing apart every atom in her body, and then putting her back together again. Her vision went white, arching, twitching, moaning and completely out of her damn mind as he kept fucking her through it, until he too reached his peak.

When it happened for him, he kissed her with such force, such passion, that she couldn’t breathe, though she didn’t feel she needed to anyway. His affection felt more crucial than oxygen, happily accepting his lips as she floated slowly back to her altered state of reality.

They both lay in the aftermath of the near religious experience they just shared, sweating, panting, still pressed to each other as they recovered from the profoundly overpowering encounter that the drug turned their passion into.

Even after several minutes had passed, she was still dizzy, still unable to come to terms with how incredible Baekhyun had just made her feel.

“I love you.” She whispered, thoughtless, the otherworldly memory of it all and his possessive words drifting through her mind. For a while, he didn’t respond, and she didn’t expect him to. It didn’t feel like some sort of big confession, just what the drug and the height of the moment naturally pulled from her lips.

“I..” he paused, becoming tense, eyes digging into her own. “What?”

The harsh change in his tone snapped her back to reality, and she realized her mistake.

“No- shit, I didn’t mean that-”

“What the fuck did you just say?” He said, sitting up, eyes squeezed shut with a pained expression now on his face.

“I’m sorry, it just slipped out in the moment.” She looked at him, worry turning to panic as the look on his face slowly turned into one of anger.

“Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out.” He said again, this time raising his voice, eyes still shut, refusing to look at her.

She started to sit up, tears welling in her eyes, though this time they didn’t come from a good place at all.

“But, you said you wouldn’t let anything bad happen, I’m sorry, I just- I-”

When he finally did meet her eyes, they were hard and mean, not softening at all even at the sight of her tears.

“You can’t be here anymore. Get your shit and get the fuck out.”

“Baekhyun, please, I can't just leave, I'm sorry, really. Please.” She begged, but he wasn't having any of it.

“I said get the fuck out of my apartment. Right fucking now.”

She'd never seen that look on his face before, her shock and upset morphing into fear.

With that she got up, stumbling as she gathered her clothes, leaving his room in a disoriented haze as she got herself dressed, crying harder and harder as the seconds ticked by. The bright colors had turned dark and dull and the patterns that before swirled around so beautifully turned sharp, frightening in their unpredictability. She was delirious as she passed the threshold to his apartment, the hallway seeming to close in on her as she struggled toward the elevator. Luckily nobody saw her as she left the building, eventually collapsing onto a nearby bench under the midday sun, surrounded by the bustling city.

As her eyes squeezed shut she only saw his face, twisted in anger as he told her to leave. It haunted her, though she didn’t want to face the city either, the cacophony of cars and other people entirely too much to handle. She had to get home, and with no other real option, she pulled out her phone, struggling with it for a minute before finally managing to call her best friend.

“Suhyun?”

“Hi! I thought you were gonna be with Baekhyun all day, is everything all right?”

“No��” she said, voice shaking, and even from over the phone Suhyun could tell that something was very wrong.

“Are you okay? Where are you? What happened?”

“I- I don't know, I need you to come get me.”

“Where are you?”

“I don't know, I'm sitting in front of his building, he kicked me out.”

“He did what? You sound weird, what's going on?”

“He gave me drugs, I don't know what to do, I can barely use my phone, I can't take the subway, you have to come get me.”

Suhyun had known her friend long enough to know that something awful had happened, and needed to get there as soon as possible.

“Okay, just stay where you are, I can check your location and come to you, I'll be there as soon as I can.”

She nodded, and her friend on the phone grew even more worried.

“Y/n?”

“Yes! I'm on a bench. I won't move. Please hurry.” Her voice unsteady with the onslaught of tears still pouring out of her.

To make sure her friend was safe, Suhyun stayed on the phone with her until she pulled up, pulling her into the car before making her way towards her friend's apartment.

She was crying quietly to herself in the passenger seat, trying to focus on what was going on outside the window, but still ending up squeezing her eyes shut again and again, seeing his face glaring back at her, making her heart sting every time.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Finally she looked over at Suhyun, and she saw in her eyes that she wasn't in her normal state of mind, growing more and more worried by the minute.

She just shook her head, too overwhelmed to get a word out as the sobs ran through her.

The day had been so perfect, and because of a few little words he'd seemingly snapped, becoming a completely different person. The harshness with which he'd told her to get out kept replaying, she couldn't escape no matter how hard she tried. His face and his words had etched themselves into her mind, the drug making it all so much more horrible.

They eventually reached her apartment, and Suhyun tucked her into bed, holding her, asking once again, “what happened?”

“He wanted to do LSD together,” she eventually choked out “and we- we had sex, and I felt so insane after, I said I love you to him, just because of how crazy it all felt, and he lost it, and yelled at me that I had to get out.”

“He kicked you out of his apartment knowing you were on drugs?”

She nodded.

“Are you still really high? How bad is it? ”

“I could barely work my phone to call you. All I can see when I close my eyes is his face when he yelled at me to get out but when they're open everything is moving and looks like it's about to attack me. It's awful, I just want this to stop already.”

Suhyun stroked her hair as she cried, comforting her, but was growing more and more angry as well. She decided it would be best to take her phone for a while, worried Baekhyun would try to contact her and make things even worse. She took it from where her friend had discarded it on the bed, sliding it into her pocket.

She stayed like that for hours, just keeping her friend company, talking to her, doing her best to reassure her, seeing the way pain and fear consumed her. When she felt the phone start to vibrate she made an excuse to leave the room, and sure enough, it was him.

“Y/n, I'm so-”

“This is her friend. She can't talk to you right now.”

“I need to talk to her, give her her phone back.” She could hear the desperation in his voice, but she didn't care.

“No. She's fucking wrecked because of you. You threw her out onto the street while she was high out of her goddamn mind. She could've gotten arrested for Christ's sake, all because of your selfish bullshit. If you care about her even in the slightest, and genuinely want what's best for her, you're going to leave her alone. For good. She doesn't need you to fuck up her life even more.”

“Please-”

“Goodbye.”

Suhyun ended the call, cutting him off. When he called again and again, she put the phone on mute, deleting every trace of his trying to contact her. The last thing her friend needed was more of him.

At home in his apartment, Baekhyun cursed himself, nearly throwing the phone into a wall. Unbeknownst to both of the girls, he wasn’t much better off.

Those three words had set something off inside him. His high took an awful turn as he watched her leave the apartment, overcome with anger, but mostly, fear. When he called and couldn’t get through to her, it got even worse. Suhyun’s warning to stay away frustrated him beyond belief, but as much as he wanted to talk to her, he had no clue what he would even say, he couldn’t even understand his own feelings.

The guilt and confusion turned the rest of his day into a living nightmare, hoping that he’d somehow still be able to win her back. However as the hours passed, he did come to a realization.

It wasn’t her words that had caused him to suddenly become so agitated, it was the fact that he’d almost said it back.

#baekhyun smut #baekhyun fic #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun #baekhyun angst #exo fanfic #exo smut #exo fic #exo angst #exo #kpop smut

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avgustea · 2 years ago

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I posted 8,621 times in 2022

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#a man takes his sadness and throws it away                                                          but then he’s still left with hi

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do you ever like. beg your body to finally start your period so this hormone-induced madness can finally release its clutches over your entire mind and body and life? like. i'm calling a therapist later for sure, because it's either a massive pms or that's it, we've finally reached the rock bottom.

10 notes - Posted April 4, 2022

had a horrendous two week-long depressive period. woke up today, saw notifications from my friends, realised i am a human and a young specimen at that, and everything passed

13 notes - Posted November 14, 2022

i've eaten so many delicious pastries it should be considered hubris on my puny human self's end

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hello, and for the love of everything good on this planet, good morning 💖💋💗💕

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janatm · 3 days ago

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s omething's got a hold on me that won't let go || THROUPLE

tagging: Morgan Weston, Eva Anderson & Noah Puckerman

date & time: Thursday, November 7, 2024 sometime in the afternoon

location: UCLA Campus in the quad by the fountain

summary: It would seem Morgan's latest gesture of love ended up revealing a lot more to each other than any of them had been prepared for, but maybe in a weird way, it's something like progress. They're communicating at least.

word count: 9,320

MORGAN WESTON

MORGAN settled himself on a low stone wall near the campus quad, hat tipped just enough to shield his eyes from the afternoon sun. He didn’t mind the wait; in fact, it was almost perfect. Made the whole thing feel a bit more cinematic. He glanced over at his little band - a few students he’d rounded up near the music building - who were waiting nearby, their instruments ready. He hadn’t rehearsed much beyond the first verse, but he didn’t think he’d need to. Morgan had put everything into this moment: the flowers, the food deliveries, all the little reminders of what they used to mean to each other. Even after what had happened at Bree's apartment, he was still determined. And today was about showing up. About looking them in the eye and singing his heart out in front of the whole campus if he had to. One of the students with a ukulele gave him a thumbs-up from across the quad. They were in position, just waiting for Morgan’s cue. All he needed now was Eva and Puck. Minutes ticked by, and a few passing students shot him curious looks. Morgan just smiled, nodding back politely.

Finally, he spotted a familiar figure rounding the corner, while another one was coming out of the building to his left. His heart gave a hopeful thump as he saw them - Eva and Puck, busy with their day. “Alright, y’all,” he said, standing up and nodding at his makeshift band. They straightened, ready to play. Morgan took a deep breath, his voice rising, in the most terrible way, as he started singing the first line of the song.

"Uh oh, there you go again, talkin' cinematic Yeah, you You're charming, got everybody star struck I know how you always seem to go For the obvious Instead of me But get a ticket and you'll see"

The strumming started up behind him, blending with his voice as he stepped forward, singing directly to Eva and Puck as they came closer. Students around him paused, whispering and pointing, but Morgan kept his gaze on Eva and Puck, his voice unwavering. He was all in, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this one last gesture might be the one that pulled them back to him.

EVA ANDERSON

EVA had finished up her classes for the day and was trying to decide what else to do today. With Blaine back in the city and at home with their parents, she figured it couldn't hurt to go hang out there and clear her head for a bit, since she'd probably just order take out and drink a whole bottle of wine if she went home alone again anyways. She had just walked out of the building when she noticed a bit of a crowd forming on the quad, but she quickly brushed it off as some dumb ass TikTok trend or something the kids were involved in and just kept scrolling through some of her texts.

It wasn't until she heard that horrible singing, followed by the melody of a Hannah Montana song, that the realization kicked in. "What the—" Her words were cut off as Morgan actually started to approach, and it was only then that she spotted Puck coming their way too, and she was sure that she'd never been more embarrassed. Why was this happening? Why was there a band? Why was there a crowd watching and judging? Part of her wanted to just run the fuck off, but that somehow would've been even more horrendous than Morgan's singing was, so instead, she just shook her head in response.

"Morgan, please stop singing!" She whined just loudly enough for everyone for to hear. "Puck, can't you stop this? Please?"

NOAH PUCKERMAN

PUCK was still trying to figure out his schedule now that he was actually trying to understand himself and do better. Therapy was even more emotionally taxing on him then he thought it would be. Then with the ambush on Jake's birthday, and having to see Eva and Morgan again, he was just trying not to slip back into his normal bullshit. So keeping himself busy and on schedule kept him from dwelling too much and ruining whatever progress he'd made. Putting on his Happy Puckzilla playlist also helped him between tasks, like now as he was walking to get ready for his security shift. So he'd almost missed the commotion happening by the foutain.

But it was hard to miss a swam of band kids playing a familiar melody. Pulling out his earbuds, he thought someone was doing a flash mob or something, and hey, he was a fan, sue him. Then a familiar, not very good, rang out, singing what he now Recognized was, If We Were A Movie from Hannah Montana. As Morgan came into view, so did Eva and Puck probably should have just popped his earbuds back in and kept walking. If for no other reason than to make good on his promise to respect Eva's boundaries and stay away from her. But then she said his name, even said please and he couldn't go if he wanted.

Unfortunately, for Eva, he also couldn't do what she was requesting. "Nah, I think he should finish. He got a whole band out here." Crossing his arms over his chest he looked at Morgan, waiting for him to continue.

MORGAN WESTON

MORGAN's voice wavered slightly as he heard Eva’s mortified whine cut through the song, her tone more desperate than he’d expected. He faltered for a second, the words catching in his throat, because he'd expected her out of the two of them to want this. But then Puck stepped in with that maddeningly cool smirk of his, crossing his arms and saying he should finish. Puck wasn’t just giving him permission; he was actually encouraging him, which only strengthened Morgan’s resolve.

"If we were a movie You'd be the right guy And I'd be the best friend That you'd fall in love with in the end We'd be laughing Watching the sunset Fade to black Show the names Play the happy song"

He shot a wink at the two of them, his voice a little louder, a little bolder now, filling the quad as he belted out the familiar, sugary lyrics about relationships, movies, and fairytale endings. He couldn’t help but glance between the two of them as he sang, hoping they’d catch the look in his eyes - the way he meant every word, even if it was wrapped in Hannah Montana cheese.

Somewhere in the middle of the second chorus, the security guards stepped in front of him, blocking his path, their hands raised in a silent order to stop. Morgan didn't stop though. He just kept intense eye contact with both Eva and Puck.

"Yeah, yeah, when you call me, I can hear it in your voice Oh sure, want to see me and tell me all about her La la, I'll be acting through my tears I guess you'll never know That I should win An Oscar for the scene I'm in"

The guards looked at each other, clearly unimpressed, and started pushing Morgan to get him to back up. He didn't quit though. Instead, he used his tall body to stand his ground, as he kept singing.

"Wish I could tell you there's a twist Some kind of hero in disguise And we're together It's for real, now playing" The melody built up, and the security guards kept pushing Morgan back.

"Wish I could tell you there's a kiss Like something more than in my mind I see it could be amazing"

Morgan held the long note, closing his eyes as he felt the song deep in his soul. He didn't stop singing the note, until the security guards gave him one final big push, causing air to come out of Morgan's lungs, and he fell backwards, over the half concrete wall, right next to a couple sitting and making out, and he felt his upper body move under the cold water of the fountain in the middle of campus. The shock of it caused the band to stop playing and for Morgan to sit up immediately, supporting himself on his hands and he sucked in a deep breath, the water running down his face.

The crowd started laughing, pointing and clapping. "Alright, buddy, time to end the show, get up," said one of the security guards. And as Morgan opened his eyes again, they caught Eva and Puck's and he sighed deeply, beginning to get up and out of the fountain, the water dripping off of him.

EVA ANDERSON

EVA had no idea she'd be subjected to a show today, especially one like this, but she hated it. Maybe if it hadn't been so public, or if Morgan's singing hadn't been so bad, but when Puck seemed entertained by all of this, she reached over and swatted his arm. "You're not helping!" She groaned, and of course he'd be enjoying it. And when Morgan just seemed to take that as a nudge to continue, making the performance louder and continuing to go through the rest of the song, she was sure that her cheeks were growing a light shade of pink as she noticed a few phones up and recording Morgan. "God, this is embarrassing." She groaned once the security guards stepped in. Part of her was praying that Morgan would have caved in at that point, or that Puck would have chimed in and asked his coworkers to let him handle it, but it was clearly too late for that now.

Once the song finally came to an end, Eva barely even had time to decide on her next move before Morgan was falling into the fountain, causing her to gasp in response. This whole thing had gone from bad to worse now, and honestly, this should have been the perfect time to make a sneaky exit, yet she didn't move. Not yet. Once Morgan resurfaced and the guards tried to urge him out again, she finally turned back to Puck. "You wanna go help him out here?" She questioned curiously. "Even if we don't talk to him, maybe we just escort him out of here instead of your coworkers doing it?" The man had just serenaded them in front of a crowd, so the least they could do was just get him out of here before the security guards really got annoyed.

NOAH PUCKERMAN

PUCK couldn't help but turn his smirk into a genuine smile as Eva swatted him for being unhelpful. With Morgan standing in front of them, in all his romantic cowboy glory and Eva beside him radiant and blushing, it felt like everything was gonna work out. Maybe, Puck just wanted to hold on to that feeling for as long as Morgan could carry a tune. Which as he continued Puck was reminded that while enthusiastic, it was in a key all it's own and there was something endearing about that. It was sweet and Puck found himself appreciating the gesture. Most folks, especially in L.A, aren't embarrassing themselves like this unless there is a decent sum of money in it for them in the end.

"Yeah, so embarrassing." He said with a laugh to his tone as he brought out his own phone to record. Having learned from his younger brother, always be recording. As his coworkers came into view, they didn't notice him at first and after the first little shove, Puck knew exactly where this was going. The big ass fountain behind Morgan was the only place for them to push him into in the direction he was moving in. Eventually his coworkers made eye contact with him and they looked at him, as if to ask, you wanna handle this? and he signaled back, nah, do what you gotta do.

As Morgan hit that high note and held it, Puck knocked his shoulder into Eva's, turning his phone toward her before turing it to himself and then back at Morgan. Just in time to catch his epic and inevitable fall into the fountain. If you've never seen a six foot five man fall, many is it a long way down, not to mention the distance that splash got. Then Eva seemed to be taking pity on their man, "Yeah, alright, I got it." Putting his phone away, Puck jogged over and tdapped up his fellow security guards, thanking them for the entertainment, before telling them he'd handle it from there. "Come on man, let's get you into something dry." And he led them back to Eva so they could all go to his break room an get Morgan something to wear.

MORGAN WESTON

MORGAN surfaced from the fountain, sputtering and blinking through water dripping from his hair. He could hear laughter and applause rippling through the crowd, and though his cheeks burned with embarrassment, he managed to keep a sheepish grin on his face. 'Well', he thought, 'at least I went all in'. He looked around, trying to get his bearings, and caught sight of Eva and Puck standing nearby. Eva looked half horrified, half amused, her hand covering her mouth, while Puck was full-on grinning, recording the whole scene on his phone. Despite the complete flop of his performance, seeing them both there - watching him, staying through it all - gave him a flicker of hope. When Puck broke away from Eva and came over, Morgan forced a laugh, slicking his hair back and wading out of the fountain. “Well, I didn’t quite see that one coming,” he said, trying to downplay the mortification tightening his chest. Morgan gave a grateful nod at Puck's suggestion, trying not to slip on the wet stone as he climbed out. The crowd started to disperse, a few students giving him amused pats on the back as he passed. He shot them a cheeky, lopsided smile, trying to shrug off his own embarrassment. 'It was worth it', he told himself. 'Even if I just looked like a damn fool'. They regrouped with Eva, and Morgan felt a warmth spread through him despite the cold water soaking through his clothes. She hadn’t left, and neither had Puck. He felt almost giddy, even though his boots squelched with each step. “So,” he said as he walked up to Eva, tossing a hopeful look between her and Puck, “what d’ya think? Was I…too much?” He tried to keep his tone light, but there was a nervous edge to his voice.

EVA ANDERSON

EVA made a mental note to make sure she wasn't tagged in any videos on social media of this whole thing, since she could barely bear the embarrassment now. And of course Puck wasn't helping the situation at all, but she should have expected that when she was somehow stuck with two dumbasses. Luckily it was all over now, to an extent, and she was relieved when Puck took pity on Morgan and went to rescue him from his coworkers. As the crowd finally started to go mind their own damn business, she felt a small weight lifting off of her shoulders now. Or at least she did until Puck and Morgan were coming back her way. She wasn't ready for whatever was about to happen, but she hadn't left before so she was kinda stuck seeing where this all went. At Morgan's questioning, she rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, you were too much! Why couldn't we have done this somewhere private?" Eva whined, and she truly would have preferred that over such a public display of...whatever it was. She still wasn't buying the love thing, and she assumed that's what the performance was about, but she still didn't believe Morgan about this love shit. "And you sounded even worse than you did the last time you tried the serenading thing." Needing to get out of the middle of the quad, she spun around and started walking, figuring they were heading to Puck's break room. "Let's go before I go back to being pissed at both of you." She called out.

NOAH PUCKERMAN

PUCK found himself distracted as Eva started walking away. Her ass in those pants almost making him completely miss what she had said. Jogging to catch up, once he processed, he led them to the break room. Suddenly, hyper aware that they were all together again. Not together but the last few times he'd seen either of them it had been so heavy and sullen, and maybe there was still a bit of that. But there was also something else there, something lighter. As they approached the break room, he asked two dudes if they could give them the small space. As they left, Puck went to the locker with clean and fresh school merch in it and prayed something in Morgan's size was there. Picking out the best options he also grabbed a towel and threw it at the tall man. "I ain't got any shoes in your size but i can run yours through the dryer for a few minutes, with your socks and underwear." He put the change of clothes down on the nearest surface and looked between his two ex lovers before realized Morgan was gonna have to get undressed for this. "Uhh, hold on, I can- here." Grabbing another towel, he threw one end at Eva to hold up in front of the cowboy. "It's all I got to give you some privacy, not that it's anything we ain't seen before." This was fucking awkward for so many reasons, the main one being that Puck kept looking a little too long at a soaked Morgan and come on. Dude might have broken his heart but fuck him, he was hot in a soaked through tshirt and jeans. Naturally his eyes moved over to Eva, which was a fucking mistake because if Morgan is hot Eva is a league all her own. I mean, everything she wore fit her body like it was tailor made just for her. Trying not to be a fucking creep toward either of them he just looked at his feet and willed them to be less attractive to him the next time he looked up.

MORGAN WESTON

MORGAN caught the towel Puck tossed at him, grateful but also feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. Eva’s eye-roll and Puck’s distraction hadn’t gone unnoticed, and he couldn’t help but grin at the idea that his stunt, despite the embarrassment, had gotten under both their skins a little. Even if Eva called him out for singing worse than the last time, and Puck had taken his sweet time coming over to help him. When Puck held out the second towel for privacy, Morgan chuckled, wiping his face and ruffling his damp hair. “Thanks, darlin’,” he said, aiming for a playful wink at them. But he could feel the nerves creeping in. He’d gone all out for this, and now that they were alone, there was no band to cover up his fumbling words or hopeful glances. He hadn't planned for this to happen. Unbuttoning and peeling off his soaked shirt, he grabbed the fresh one Puck had found, glancing up only to find them both looking his way a little too long. It was hard not to feel the flicker of tension between the three of them in this small break room. As he turned, the tattoo he’d not realized he'd even gotten during his wild night out with Bree peeked out, catching in the light. Eva and Noah inside the little heart. It was a drunken decision, and despite not realizing it was there, he rubbed the spot unconsciously, feeling a bit more exposed than he intended. Unbuttoning his pants, he started pulling them down, along with the wet boxers that clung to him. "So, uh...what are y'all doing after this?"

EVA ANDERSON

EVA didn't know why she was being thrown a towel, since Puck just pointed out that this was nothing they hadn't seen before, but she also didn't need to see that right now while she was still a mess of emotions. "Noah, you could just find him some shorts or something too, and then we could've stepped out while he got changed." She stated, yet she stood up anyways and held the towel up. It didn't exactly help all that much, but she just tried to avert her eyes to anywhere other than either man as Morgan got rid of his shirt. Her plan had worked right up until she noticed something out of her peripheral that made her whip her head back around to Morgan, or his body anyways. She was far too pissed at them to be imagining things, not that she would have even remotely conjured up what was staring her dead in her face. It certainly hadn't been there the last time she'd seen him topless, which felt like forever ago, honestly, and him rubbing the spot signaled that it was mostly new. For a minute or so, she couldn't even form any words to express the amount of questions her mind was flooded with, and him nonchalantly carrying on as he kept stripping hadn't helped. Snapping out of her trance as he spoke, Eva shook her head. "Morgan, why — what is that?" She asked, and now trying to give him some privacy was the least of her worries as she lowered her arms and tossed the towel aside. Her eyes briefly glanced at his dick before she refocused on the tattoo, which was the important matter here. "I may be drinking heavily lately, but I know my eyes work perfectly fine. Puck, you do see that too, right? You have to. You can't miss our names being tattooed on him, right?"

NOAH PUCKERMAN

PUCK was trying to be a gentleman about the whole thing. Not look, and if he did to maybe not look too long, but when he looked up again to find they were still just as attractive as they had been a minute ago, he just gave up and let his eyes wonder where they wanted to. Although he did try to avoid looking at Morgan's chest for too long. Just as he was about to answer, 'Work.'to Morgan's question when Eva did a double take. Clearly she was seeing something Puck couldn't from where he was standing. As soon as she revealed what exactly she was seeing he moved closer to her until the tattoo was in view. Without thinking he stood directly in front of the other man and reached out to traced the letters with his fingers. Something in his heart fluttered at seeing his name, his birth name, on this man's ribcage. He didn't even register that he was still touching the man as he looked back at Eva, unsure of what to say. Looking back at the tattoo, fingers still ghosting over the outline of the heart. "It's real." He finally said out loud, looking between the two. "I mean, it looks... new." Realizing he probably shouldn't be touching it, he quickly removed his hand. "Shit, man, sorry. Did I hurt you?" He asked concerned, but before Morgan could answer he was speaking again. "Why?" It was a dumb question, Puck knew it was probably another grand gesture but it didn't even seem like Morgan was aware of it? But how could he get a whole ass tattoo of their names and just... not know?

MORGAN WESTON

MORGAN's cheeks burned as he caught the stunned look on Eva’s face, quickly followed by Puck’s as he stepped in to get a closer look. The warmth of Puck’s fingers tracing the letters on his ribcage made Morgan’s breath hitch, a quiet flutter in his chest as he watched both their reactions with clear confusion in his head. Suddenly, as Puck continued to touch it, images of a wild night out with Bree started flooding his mind. He didn't remember much, but something about him laying on his side and watching Bree fight some tattoo artist, while he was getting poked at, started to become much more vivid. He swallowed, watching as Puck’s fingers hovered there, then slowly pulled away, and finally managed a soft laugh, shaking his head. “No, you didn’t hurt me. I haven't- err....felt it. I didn't even know I had it!” He met Puck’s eyes, before letting out a nervous chuckle. "I don't remember getting it, honestly. It happened during a- um...kind of crazy night out with Bree, I think. Drunk me must've thought it was a good idea.” He rubbed the back of his neck, before turning to Eva. He let out a breath, and this time, he didn’t hold back. “I guess I miss y'all more than I have actually been letting on, and in my drunken state, it came to surface.” He caught himself, trying to find the right words. “I'll get it removed, if you want."

EVA ANDERSON

EVA was stunned, to say the least, and she didn't even flinch as Puck traced over it to ensure that it was in fact a real tattoo. The man had clearly lost all of his marbles now if this was how he was choosing to prove his love, since that was entirely too permanent just to prove something. And him not seeming to even realize what they were making a fuss over only confused her more, at least until he started explaining it. Of course this involved drinking, but with Bree? Had Bree not remembered it either since she hadn't said anything to her about it? Or worse, had Bree done the same thing and gotten a stupid tattoo on her body too? She made a mental note to call her as soon as this was wrapped up and she was going her separate way again, but for now, they had a bigger issue. When Morgan verbally owned up to missing them and that probably being why he's gotten it, she sighed. Of course that's what it was. Add that to the way he'd been trying to shower them with love, if that's what he wanted to continue calling it, and it was truly starting to freak her the fuck out. "Can we all just slow down for a minute?" Eva groaned as she turned her back to the tattoo and Morgan's dick, which she didn't need waving around in her face right now. "Puck, grab his clothes and go dry them. And then please find him something so we can put his dick up.

NOAH PUCKERMAN

PUCK was so confused. What did Bree have to do with any of this? I mean, he knew they knew each other, but he definitely didn't know they were close enough to have a whole drunken night of shenanigans together. But why were they getting drunk enough to forget a whole fucking tattoo anyway? As Morgan admitted to missing them, Puck felt a little part of his resolve soften. Maybe it was just because he got it, he missed them too and he wanted them back. Which seems crazy to him, not him wanting them back but how important they had become to him in such a short amount of time. And subsequently, how quickly and catastrophically he fucked it all up. Now, he wasn't doing all this self improvement and no sex and no drinking just to win them back, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't hopeful of a reunion some day. Puck didn't even have time to comment on Morgan's offer before Eva was turning away and begging for him to give the cowboy some clothes. Looking at the other man, he was surprised to find he had completely forgotten that he was butt ass naked. Grabbing the clothes off the table he'd put them on he handed them to Morgan before gathering his wet stuff and throwing it in the dryer. "Should be good to go in about twenty-five minutes." He said as he walked back over to them, pulling out chairs for them both to sit in. "I don't really know what to say so I'll just go with, it's good to see y'all, even if it is kinda fucked." He plopped himself in a seat.

MORGAN WESTON

MORGAN chuckled under his breath as he took the dry clothes from Puck, slipping on the shirt first and taking a second to ground himself. He could still feel Eva’s lingering skepticism, but he wasn’t surprised - it was her way of staying guarded, of protecting herself from whatever nonsense he was dragging her into. He pulled on the clothes, grateful for Puck’s attention to practicality, and finally took a seat across from them both. “Alright, alright,” he said, giving Eva an almost sheepish grin. “I know this looks crazy. I know it’s permanent, and had I been sober, I would probably have chosen a more hidden place.” He shrugged, one side of his mouth twitching up, as he joked. “But I guess that’s me, huh? Always doing things a little bigger than necessary.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, looking from Eva to Puck. He knew he’d come in here with his heart on his sleeve, maybe for the first time in his life. They both had every right to be wary, every right to roll their eyes at yet another one of his schemes to win them back. He’d messed up before, had his fair share of selfish moments, but he was trying his best to navigate how to get out of that. “I miss you both,” he said, his voice quieter now, no hint of the usual cowboy charm he liked to put on. “Not just as a couple but as people who were my best friends. I miss bein' able to talk to you two, to joke around, to share those parts of myself I never did with anyone else.” He looked up at them, his gaze soft but full of an honest intensity. “And if this is what it takes to show you I’m serious, then I’m all in.” Leaning back, he folded his arms, willing himself to keep it together. He’d bared it all, and he knew there was no going back now. He didn’t expect anything right away; he didn’t even know if they’d give him a second chance. But he wanted them to know that he’d fight for them, even if it meant he had to face every ridiculous situation just like this one.

EVA ANDERSON

EVA was grateful that Puck had clothes to put Morgan in, but she still didn't like the idea of being in a room with them for any longer than she'd already been. Everything was still too fresh for her, and she hadn't exactly been handling it well at all, judging by the empty wine bottles in her condo, so being stuck with the two men responsible for her current state of mind was asking for trouble. But as they both sat down, she found herself sighing and doing the same. After all, if Morgan was going to these lengths to get their attention, she might as well get this over with now. She remained silent as she let them both speak, mostly because she didn't really know if there was anything she needed to say to them that she hadn't already done. Sure, maybe she did miss them, but that was buried somewhere under the hurt and the rejection so she wasn't about to say it. But when Morgan decided to expand on what he missed about them, she had to chew on the inside of her cheek to stop herself from tearing up. This crying thing was really starting to piss her off, yet it was also starting to become something she couldn't fully control either, which was equally annoying. But once Morgan was finished, all she could do was shake her head. "I don't believe that — I can't believe that. You slept with your girlfriend right after telling me how you felt, and then you immediately started love bombing us. Did you even cut things off with her? Or are you still trying to juggle us and her?" Eva questioned curiously, since it was important to get all of the facts out. "And since we're here, I just need to know something. You both had me and each other, but then you chose to go fuck other people. Why? Any time either one of you wanted to have sex, I didn't say no, so why wasn't that enough?"

NOAH PUCKERMAN

PUCK listened as Morgan spoke and he still found himself so hesitant to believe him. Logically, he understood what the problem was, it had been explained to him but it wasn't until Eva spoke that it clicked. How could Eva and Morgan believe that he has actual feelings for them when his actions haven't aligned with what he has said? While he has been working on himself, trying to do all the right things, he made another mistake. This whole time he has been telling himself that he needs to leave them alone because he isn't good enough for them. Because he can't be good enough for them. But that isn't true. He chose not to be a good enough man for them. Chose to suffer in silence. Chose to sit in his pain and his depression instead of getting himself the help he desperately needed. Chose to believe his father, a man who doesn't even know him, over the people in his life who know him better than he knows himself. Chose to go on that date with Kurt instead of communicating with Eva and Morgan. Chose to try and cover the hurt he caused them with a deceleration instead of an apology. Chose to get drunk and make more bad choices. Over and over and over again, Puck made decisions throughout his entire life that have lead him to Eva asking this exact question he's been asked various times over the years. Except this time, he's got an answer. "Because the problem wasn't with you or with Morgan, it was with me." He said, not giving Morgan a chance to speak first. "I convinced myself I wasn't good enough for either one of you. So the more I wanted one of you, the more i felt for you, the harder I fought it. Had myself thinking I was a good guy for pushing you away. Truth is, it was just easier to do what I've always done then it was to do what I needed, because that would have meant looking at myself and I've recently figured out that I hate myself. So the last thing I wanna do is see myself. I'm working on it because I never ever wanna hurt anybody the way I hurt y'all, because I never wanna disappoint my mom, my kid, my brother or Santana the way I have been. But mostly, I don't wanna hate myself anymore." His voice got a bit shaky on the last point but he managed to get through it without more than a couple tears falling and he was kinda proud of himself for letting them fall. "And just because I understand why I've made the choices I've made doesn't mean it excuses any of the hurt I've caused. Y'all never deserved that and I'm sorry." He said sincerely looking between the both of them.

MORGAN WESTON

MORGAN swallowed, glancing from Eva to Puck and feeling a strange heaviness settle over him. He could see the pain etched into Eva’s face, the questions and accusations laced with her confusion and hurt. And then there was Puck, laying his own broken pieces on the table for them both to see, like some puzzle Morgan wished he could just put together with his bare hands. He could almost hear his own heart pounding, pushing him to say something - anything - that might start to patch things up. Taking a deep breath, Morgan started slowly, his gaze softening on Eva. “You’re right,” he said. “I made choices that hurt you both. I was lost in my own head, and all I did was leave y’all tangled up in my mess. And I’m sorry.” Morgan shifted slightly, trying to keep himself grounded as he explained. “There’s nothing with Serena. No feelings, no thoughts, nothing. I know that now, but I’d be lying if I said it was clear to me back then. I thought maybe I could numb the hurt, maybe distract myself from missin’ you two - that feeling became too much, I was seekin' anythin and anyone out to get it back. I get now how messed up that was. I wasn’t honest, and I hurt you both in the process.” Morgan bit the inside of his cheek, his hand resting over his tattoo as if it somehow steadied him. “But, I ended things with her. It meant nothin’ to the both of us. And that was a slap in the face I needed, to realize what I was losing right in front of me. You’re it for me, both of you. It’s why I showed up here today, why I dragged a whole band across campus.” He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Not because I think one song’s gonna change things, but because I want you to know I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it. To show you what love is to me.” He exhaled, shoulders slumping slightly, his voice steady but vulnerable. “I I just hope y’all can find it in you to believe me this time. That I’m here, and that I’m tryin’ to make things right. Because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

EVA ANDERSON

EVA didn't have a clue what sort of answer she was expecting to hear, or if she was just hoping that neither one would have an answer today, but of course they both had explanations for it. First Puck's came, and she wasn't exactly surprised that she understood it. She hated that Puck had just assumed the worst about himself and let it influence his actions, but she was glad to hear that he was trying to better himself. It was still a lot to process, and she didn't even have time to do it now because then it was Morgan's turn. Maybe she should have asked them this individually, and on separate days, so she had time to breathe in between their responses, but it was too late now. And as much as she didn't want to let this stop her from being mad at them, she felt her guard slipping just a little bit as Morgan finished. "Well..that wasn't what I was expecting." She sighed. "But I hear both of you, and I appreciate your honesty now. Even if it feels like it's a little too late." Eva truly didn't know what she wanted anymore, not after they'd both hurt her the way that they had, but having some sort of an answer as to why they did what they did made things a little clearer for her. "Both of you had to sleep with other people to know that you wanted this, so maybe it's my turn to do the same thing to decide if I can forgive you, or even trust you enough to risk getting hurt again. I thought fucking Noel once would be enough for me to make a decision, but I still don't know what I want so maybe I need to go back for another round, or two. Or maybe I need to just go get attention from someone else and see if that chooses for me. I don't know." Eva wasn't aiming to make them jealous, not entirely anyways, but they were on a roll with actually communicating, so she did want them to hear this from her and not someone else later. "If it helps though, I do miss you idiots too." She hated being vulnerable, but it felt like they needed to hear that after her admission.

NOAH PUCKERMAN

PUCK didn't even know how to process or what to feel about anything Morgan just revealed. What was he suppose to say to any of that? He was still trying to wrap his head around the man having his government name permanently etched onto his body. Made him wonder how Eva was managing to process anything the two men just said, fast enough to do anything other than just walk out. But, she was always better than him and Morgan with the whole communication thing and the being honest thing, so maybe he shouldn't be assuming it's difficult for her because it would be for him. Although, he did manage to hear that he'd ended things with Serena and that it apparently didn't mean anything and he felt a pang in his heart, because he still cared about his former friend and no matter what she said to Morgan, he knew she'd had feelings for the cowboy. But another part of him was glad that she was likely in pain because he didn't want her, because he wanted Puck and Eva and everything they could have been. Which was definitely fucked up on his part, but he'd work through it later. Once Eva started talking, Puck's focus shifted to her. Not sure what he was expecting her to say, but waiting on baited breath all the same. Trying not to imagine the worst but also trying to be realistic about it all. It was difficult for her, who was such a zero percent or one hundred percent kind of person. So if he wasn't optimistic he was catastrophizing and living in extremes wasn't healthy and he was trying to work on that too. So instead of imagining, he just listened. It wasn't that bad, didn't love that she had slept with someone else but it was somewhat expected and she was right. She deserved to go out in the world and be doted on and catered to by anybody and everybody. Wait... he didn't even get to appreciate her saying she missed them, because he finally registered the name of the dude she's hooked up with. Noel. There was only one dude he knew with that name and he was easily the coolest dude he'd ever met. Plus he had his shit together and he was fearless and objectively fucking hot and technically family. Fuck. "Noel? Ramos Lopez? Santana's brother? My kid's uncle? That Noel?" He didn't have a right to ask, it wasn't his business, except it kind of was, the dude was invited to fucking Thanksgiving.

MORGAN WESTON

MORGAN's pulse thundered in his ears as Eva’s words hung heavy in the air, each one sinking in like a sharp hook he couldn’t shake off. Noel. She’d been with Noel. Out of every damn person in the world, she’d gone to one of the guys in Morgan's inner circle. His friend. He felt his jaw clench, a tidal wave of jealousy swelling in his chest, white-hot and blinding. He didn’t even realize he’d stood up, his hands balled into fists at his sides. His voice came out low and gravelly, edged with the barely contained fury coursing through him. “Noel, huh?” he growled, giving a bitter, humorless laugh. His gaze flickered to Puck, a warning there, and then back to Eva. “You slept with Noel.” Without waiting for a reply, he ran his hand through his damp hair, each second fanning the flames of his anger hotter. The image of Noel - his friend - getting cozy with Eva - his... Ms. Anderson - felt like a punch straight to the gut, the betrayal slicing deep. Morgan felt like an idiot standing there, soaked from his fountain encounter, wearing whatever Puck had given him, trying to win them back only to find out she’d already been in someone else’s arms. Morgan’s gaze was fierce as he met Eva’s eyes one last time, the hurt flashing beneath the jealousy. “Take your time, Eva. Fuck him all you want if that's what it takes,” God, it hurt to say that “but despite how much it hurts to know that you're doin' this, I'm gonna keep showing ya how much y'all mean to me.” The only thing running through his mind was the need to confront Noel, to hear straight from him why he’d decided to cross this line. His blood was boiling, and he could already feel his fists twitching at the thought of their inevitable encounter. He turned on his heel, his anger fueling every step. He was out the door and down the hall, heading for his truck, heart pounding and not caring what he was wearing. He now only had one place to go to: Noel's.

EVA ANDERSON

EVA could still recall the way Morgan got in his feelings about her agreeing to a simple date with someone else after he'd been on a date and doing who knows what else with his little girlfriend, so she already knew he wasn't going to handle this little bomb well. Yes, she had wanted them both to be jealous, mostly because they deserved it after what they'd done to her, but she didn't really know how else they would process it. As Puck started questioning which Noel she was referring to, she could only duck her head slightly when he pointed out that he was her kid's uncle. She hadn't been thinking about it that way at the time, nor had it even been planned really. She was emotional, Noel showed up in her class, and they just went at it. But she couldn't tell him that, and before she even had the chance to say anything else, Morgan was standing up. She knew he was mad or jealous or something, and she was unsure of where this was about to go until he sort of gave her permission to do it. She didn't need it, since she would and could do whatever she wanted to do after the way they'd fumbled her, but Morgan deciding that it wasn't going to stop him from trying to prove how he felt caught her off guard. "What?" That was all she could get out before he was leaving, and Eva sighed before she turned to face Puck. "Yes, Noah, it was that Noel. But I swear I didn't just do it because of who he is to you, or to Maya, or..whatever. It just happened. I know that's cliche as hell, but both of you hurt me and I haven't been dealing with it well, so when he stopped by my class to sit in, I just needed to stop thinking about all of us and he was there. That's it." Maybe that was playing it down just a tad bit, but Puck didn't need to know that. "I'm sorry. Not that I did it, but that it was someone you kinda have ties to, and I really didn't do it on purpose."

NOAH PUCKERMAN

PUCK couldn't say he was surprised by Morgan's reaction. Dude has made it clear, even when it didn't make sense, especially when it didn't make sense, the he didn't so well with the mere concept of Eva or Puck being with anyone else, let alone them actually being with someone else. Up until now, though, Eva had never go there with anyone and Puck just wanted to know why these two couldn't fuck folks he didn't have to interact with on a damn near daily basis. Just because he doesn't go out of his way to see Serena doesn't mean she isn't still his next door neighbor and he would never be able to escape Noel. As Morgan up and left, shoes and underwear still in the dryer, he just let the sound of drying shoes drown out everything else for a few minutes. It wasn't until Eva started talking that he came back down to earth. It was weird, having her sit there and apologize and reassure him that she didn't mean to, that it just happened, that she just needed an escape and he wondered if maybe now, even if she never forgives him, maybe she can understand that the shit he did wasn't about hurting her, he was just fucked up. There was too much to process. Between Morgan's who show and everything he said after, to all the broken pieces Puck shared and now Eva revealing her new fuck buddy or whatever Noel was to her now. So, he just got up, went to his locker, changed into his uniform and turned back around to face, Eva. "You don't have to apologize for anything. I'm not gonna sit here and tell you I'm okay with it. Beause I'm not, to be clear. But I ain't got no right to comment on who you choose to do anything with. Noel is a good dude and he's cool and good looking and I am jealous as fuck that he got to be with you like that." He move closer to her, so he was right in front of her, his eyes never leaving hers. "But you got every right to do whatever and whoever you want or need to put yourself back together after we ripped you the fuck apart." His eyes scanned her face and all he wanted was to hold her, hug her, kiss her cheek, her forehead, just touch her, to ground himself but it would be selfish, so instead he put his hands in his pockets. "I hate that I hurt you, but I did and I'll regret it for the rest of my life." His hand found it's way out of his pocket to rest on her cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing over the soft skin. "I'm so sorry, baby." It slipped out, but even after he realized he didn't take it back.

EVA ANDERSON

EVA honestly didn't know why she was apologizing at all, even if she had slept with someone that had ties to Puck. He had slept with her friend, Morgan slept with Puck's friend, and now she'd slept with his baby mama's brother so she was just tipping the scale here. They both should've just been grateful that she'd been upfront about it instead of letting them find out from someone else, which would have been worse, in her opinion. But it was out there now, and part of her was expecting Puck to get mad too when she confirmed which Noel it was, so she could only raise a brow as she watched him go to his locker and put his uniform on now. Once he finally started speaking, she sighed softly when he seemed to be accepting what she'd done, to an extent anyways. He felt precisely how she'd wanted him to, and part of her ego was in fact stroked by that little tidbit. But then Puck walked over and stood in front of her, and she couldn't even enjoy making him jealous now. Again, she didn't need permission from the two people who had betrayed her, but there was something about the way Puck was looking at her and being far too understanding of where she was coming from with her actions. Maybe she had just needed to hear one of them say that she had every right to do whatever she wanted to do to put herself back together after what they had done. It was good to hear it, but Puck being soft as shit while he reassured her of it was another thing to push her into lowering her guard just a little bit. "Noah.." She mumbled just before he kept speaking, and she finally let herself tear up now. Both Morgan and Puck had apologized now, more than once, and she did believe that they regretted it, yet she still wasn't ready to just fold. Though, she leaned right into the hand as it cupped her cheek, and when he called her baby, Eva's resolve faltered as she stood up and kissed him softly. She was still hurt, and still needed time, but this felt right for now so she let it happen.

NOAH PUCKERMAN

PUCK thought he was prepared for any kind of reaction. I mean, a slap to the face would have made more sense to him than what Eva actually ended up doing. Not only did she not seem mad at him for the slip ups, she was saying his name in that way she use to, soft and full of warmth. And when he saw the tears, he immediately went to wipe them away, but before he knew it she was standing up and he'd only had a millisecond to process what she was about to do before she did it. Fuck, he'd missed this, the way her soft lips left against his. Brining his other hand up, he craddled her face and immediately kissed her back. This felt like a dream, a part of him had been convinced that he would never get to have this again and even if it was only for this moment, he was going to enjoy it. Never again would he take a single second she gave him for granted. Instincts too over and he found one of his arms wrapping around her waist to keep her as close as she would allow. For a second nothing else existed, just this kiss and the hope it reignited in him. Suddenly his mind was filled good outcome and every positive possibility. There was hope, for him, for Morgan and Eva to all find their way back to each other and in this very moment, he knew, he could never let them go. They were worth every ounce of fight he had in him to be the man they always deserved. Pulling away, just to breathe, he placed two more soft kisses against her lips and rested his forehead against hers with a ghost of a smile on his lips. "My memory really doesn't do you justice."

EVA ANDERSON

EVA was sure that this was the wrong thing to do when Puck was working on himself and she was torn on what the hell she wanted to do about the throuple, but her body had a mind of its own and felt the need to kiss him. Maybe it was because he'd stuck around, let her apologize, and then agreed that she could do what needed to do. Hell, maybe if Morgan had handled his jealousy better she would have kissed him too. Though, she was almost positive that if Morgan were still here they'd be diving head first into make up sex, and they hadn't even made up yet so that would have been a horrible decision. As if this one wasn't already. Letting Puck pull her closer, she couldn't deny that she had fucking missed this, missed being touched by him, and by Morgan, even if it was just something this simple. But that sensation was also starting to cloud her judgment, so she was slightly relieved when the kiss was broken. She let him give her two more pecks before their foreheads were connecting, and she smirked when he finally spoke again. "Sadly, the real thing will always be better than a memory." She pointed out before she slowly pulled away from him. "But before we get ahead of ourselves, I should go, and you should go to work." Eva stated, sighing under her breath. "And uh...when I'm ready or when I make a decision, I guess, I'll let you and Morgan know." She promised, and with that, she finally headed out, knowing she needed to get her fucking head out of the gutter and back on straight if she were going to figure out her next move.

#ship tag ( throuple )#puck ( ft. eva anderson )#puck ( ft. morgan weston )#character tag ( noah puckerman )#threads ( noah puckerman )

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luvdsc · 3 years ago

Text

resting grinch face.

'tis the season to finally confess your feelings to your best friend!

pairing :: lee donghyuck x reader genre :: fluff ⋮ best friend + college au word count :: 3,774 words warnings :: none. playlist :: all i want for christmas is you (mariah carey) ⋆ oh boy (red velvet) ⋆ i think he knows (taylor swift) ⋆ christmas tree (v) author’s note :: keeping up my collab tradition where i write the entire fic on the day of posting up until the very last minute !!!! much love to lana and moon, i wouldn’t have written anything for the rest of the year if it wasn’t for them ♡ shout out to the absolute cutest @scented-morker, i saw your reblog tags on our collab post and tried to somewhat incorporate it in here :’) thank you, honey bee, for your support and for making our day with that reblog !! ↳ part of the haechan is a ho! ho! ho! collaboration series.

Today is December 13th. It is the first day of finals week, the day of your god awful ochem final, the birthday of your lord and savior: Taylor Swift, and the day of Nu Chi Theta’s ugly Christmas sweater party because Chenle is a terrible party planner and forgot about it until last minute, and today was the last remaining day the decorations company had available to rent out the ginormous inflatable Santa that’s already been long forgotten and deflated on the front lawn.

Honestly, he should’ve known better as a business major that it would be a sunk cost.

“Y/N!” Your best friend shouts your name over the last belting high note in the holiday diva’s most iconic song, and you look over to see him frantically waving you over in all his ugly Christmas sweater glory. Snatching up one of the gingerbread cookies on your way over, you walk over to him, wearing a matching and equally horrendous sweater with blinking lights and all the bells and whistles sewn in.

“I need a girl for a beer pong buddy, and you’re the only one immune to Jeno.” He gestures towards the boy in question with a scoff, and you glance over at your mutual friend before doing a double take. Ah, so he pulled out the big guns. Literally. Jeno is shirtless, save for a bow that’s stuck to his left shoulder. His partner, Yeeun, stands smugly next to him, idly bouncing one of the plastic balls on the scratched table top.

“Oh yeah. I’m very immune,” you deadpan, still shamelessly staring, and Jeno winks at you before flexing slightly. Rolling his eyes, Donghyuck lets out a huff, grabbing your hand, and you immediately look away, eyes now zeroing in on your interlocked hands.

Damn you, Hyuck, and the dozens of butterflies now residing in my stomach, you curse silently, even though he probably has no idea about your exponentially growing crush on him. You wish there was some sort of Uno reversal you can use in real life because it was so much easier back when you didn’t have to pretend that you’re not totally, completely, irrevocably in love with your best friend.

Why couldn’t the man upstairs let you have a crush on literally anyone else? Okay, wait, scratch that, you take it back, it can’t be anybody else. You don’t want to star on Love After Lockup. But someone like Jaemin maybe. Yeah, Jaemin is a good choice. He’s a nice, respectable boy who never broke any of your mom’s favorite vases. Everyone has a crush on him. Correction: everyone, except you unfortunately.

“Hey, pay attention to me,” Donghyuck whines, shaking your hand around before letting go and depositing a ping pong ball in it. “We have to win or else I owe Jeno and Yeeun a hundred meal points.”

You stare at him again with your signature look (Or, resting Grinch face as Donghyuck likes to call it in the spirit of the holidays). “You don’t have any meal points left.”

“Okay, then we have to win or else you owe Jeno and Yeeun a hundred meal points.”

“… I’m leaving.”

Donghyuck gasps, fully offended. “How can you leave your best friend in a moment of crisis?”

“It’s really easy. Watch.”

Discarding the ball in one of the red cups, you start to walk away, taking only a few steps before your best friend immediately latches onto you like the parasite he is. You really don’t see how this friendship has been beneficial to you in any way. Your best friend is a walking red flag that you really should be avoiding, but unfortunately for you, capture the flag has always been one of your favorite games since you were little.

“I really hoped I didn’t have to resort to this, but…” He sighs dramatically before releasing you and grasping the hem of his sweater. “If I have to exploit myself like Jeno then…”

“Okay, stop, calm down.” You hastily grab his hands, your face feeling hotter than ever when you realize what he’s about to do. “Even though it’s a totally respectable job, you are not gonna become a stripper tonight. I’ll play, alright?”

“Thank god because I’m not as ripped as Jeno.” Donghyuck tosses you a ball. “They’re up first.”

Yeeun starts, knocking out two cups, and the two of you throw them back easily. You stack your cup on top of his empty one, wrinkling your nose at the aftertaste still lingering in your mouth. You’ll never get used to the gross taste of beer. You dip the ball into one of the cups filled with cheap alcohol before raising your arm and aiming for the cup closest to you. Closing one eye, you unknowingly scrunch up your nose, the tip of your tongue sticking out slightly.

“Cute,” Donghyuck mutters, a fond smile growing across his face, and it only widens when you turn towards him with the biggest grin after the ball lands perfectly in your target, spinning around the inside. You high five your best friend and pick up a second ball, easily sinking that one in as well. Two down, eight more to go.

Ten minutes later, with six more cups gone, the two of you are scraping by. Barely. It’s two to three now. You and Yeeun are hardcore hard carrying your respective teams. You forgot just how terrible your friends were at beer pong and were very rudely reminded of it when Jeno’s third throw bounced off of your face like a backboard and landed in the cup (This was also his only win. You don’t know if that’s more humiliating for you or him). This is why you only pair up with Jisung whenever you play these games. The rest of the boys are absolute shit, save for Chenle on a good day.

“Give me a gentleman’s,” you call out and Jeno wordlessly lines up the last two cups for you.

“Hell yeah, we’re gonna win this.” Donghyuck pumps his fist in the air for you. You let out a scoff, eying your friend. “You mean I’m going to win this. You contributed nothing.”

“Not true. I’m like your trophy wife,” he sniffs, waving his hands around for emphasis. “But in a best friend way. I’m beautiful, smart, and talented. I bring up your social status. I’m the gift that keeps on giving.”

“More like the disappointment that keeps on disappointing.”

“I’m filing for divorce.”

“Please do.” Ignoring his indignant squawking, you toss the ball and watch in satisfaction as it goes in, no rim. Last one to go. You draw in a breath, picking up the last ball and aiming it carefully. Then you let it fly. Hook, line, and sinker.

Cheers erupt around you as you let out a squeal, putting your hands out for a double high five, but your best friend apparently has a different idea, pulling you into a hug and crushing you into his chest.

“I take back the divorce. We’re remarried with no prenups. Let’s celebrate and buy a shit ton of mozzarella sticks and chicken strips from the dining hall with our new joint points.”

You start to protest, but your voice is muffled by his jacket. He pats your head. “I know, you’re just so happy that I reconsidered, right?”

You shove him off of you, cheeks burning. “Shut up, Hyuck. Those points are all mine. There’s no joint custody. Our marriage is annulled. Plus, you owe me.”

You stand firm in your decision, watching as Jeno chugs the last cup, and Donghyuck pouts. “But I drank over half of the cups!”

“You drank four and I drank three. It would’ve been my cup next.”

“It’s still more than half.”

“You’re not getting any of my meal points.”

At the thought of food, you suddenly remember the plate of sugar cookies and snickerdoodles in the kitchen along with the pitchers of spiked eggnog. Thank god Taeyong and the other boys in graduate school all came by or else, you’d all be stuck with eating dozens of raw Pillsbury seasonal Christmas tree cookies because someone (read: Jisung) forgot to turn on the oven. Saying a quick goodbye to Yeeun and motioning towards the kitchen, you start to weave your way through the crowd to get to your destination.

“You would let your best friend starve?” Donghyuck has the audacity to look outraged as he follows behind you.

“Yes.”

“Wow, not even a second to pause and think.”

You stop in your tracks, and he bumps into you, teetering slightly before steadying himself. You look over your shoulder. “Okay, I thought about it. The answer is still yes.”

Ignoring his gasp, you face forward again and begin to shove your way through once more. Immediately, Donghyuck reaches out and intertwines his fingers with yours. Heart stopping at that, you nearly trip and are jostled around by the others around you. God is truly testing you tonight. Swallowing hard, you keep moving forward and try to slowly slide your hand out of his before you suffer from another round of erratic heart palpitations. Unlucky for you, your plans are a complete fail when your best friend tightens his grip on your hands almost instantaneously.

“Jesus Christ, just hold my hand properly,” Donghyuck complains, squeezing your hand before he suddenly tugs you back and your back is pressed against his chest. His arms encircle your waist in a back hug, and he still somehow manages to keep holding onto your hand the entire time. You sharply inhale, trying to steady your breathing, as he continues, “I don’t wanna lose you.”

Absolute KO. Fuck. You’re really in deep. He can’t just say and do things like this so casually and not know the effects it has on you. Why couldn’t life just let you happily continue with projecting all your romantic feelings on BTS’s V, instead of making you fall head over heels and flat on your face for your best friend?

Face now hotter than ever, you’re positive that everyone within a five mile radius can hear how loud your heart is pounding. You continue to look straight ahead, ears burning, and tell yourself to focus on the end goal: the snickerdoodles and eggnog.

Unfortunately, your quest for the baked goods is met with another obstacle when you bump into someone. Doyoung turns around, greeting you.

“Y/N, hey!” His smile falters when he sees the koala on your back. The familiar throbbing in his temple returns after nearly a year of it being gone. “Hyuck, you’re here, too.”

Donghyuck blows him a kiss, and Doyoung scoffs before taking a closer look at your sweater. “Are you two matching?”

“Yes!” Your best friend beams before turning his smile up a kilowatt when he untangles himself from you to show off his own knitwear. “But mine has a special accessory I added specifically for you when I heard you were coming.”

Doyoung stares at the item poorly duct taped to the front of his ugly Christmas sweater. “It’s a mirror.”

“Yes.” Donghyuck nods. Your older friend wrinkles his forehead, confused, and you take it as a signal to slowly inch away before all hell breaks loose, quietly pulling your best friend with you. You see the light bulb flashing above his head before Doyoung lunges towards Donghyuck.

“Lee Donghyuck, you—!”

You immediately speed up your pace, dragging your best friend as fast as possible away from his death wish. For someone who claims to be so smart, Donghyuck is going to get himself killed one day.

“I think we’re gonna have to avoid him back home over break, too,” he says casually, and you let out a laugh, agreeing with him.

“Are you carpooling home with me this year too?” you ask over your shoulder. Pulling you into a back hug once more, Donghyuck rests his chin on your shoulder to hear you better, and you go through another series of mini heart attacks.

“Who else is gonna tolerate my car karaoke? We can switch with driving at the two hour mark as usual.” His breath tickles your ear, and once again, you are reminded of the bare amount of space, or lack of, between you both. You wonder if you have the same effect on him as he does to you. Is this even considered normal best friend behavior? The two of you can honestly give Jaemin and Jeno a run for their money.

Speaking of Jaemin, you see him making his way towards the kitchen as well, and he waves at you. You greet him back when you get closer, “Hey, Jaems, wha—”

You’re suddenly thrust forward and nearly find yourself face planting into a random bowl of chili that was abandoned on the counter (It’s a frat house, and you’re a seasoned visitor, so you’re not even going to question it this time). Catching yourself on the counter with your nose inches away from the beans, you whirl around, flabbergasted.

“Literally, what the fuck, Hyuck?”

Donghyuck stares at you like a deer in the headlights, standing in the very spot you occupied less than three seconds ago: right in the doorway next to a gawking Jaemin. And for the first time in all twenty one years of his life, your best friend has nothing to say.

You raise your eyebrow, and he opens his mouth before closing it again. “So you just decided to shove me for no reason?”

“Uh… Um, well, I—”

“HYUCK AND JAEMIN ARE UNDER THE MISTLETOE,” Chenle bellows gleefully, pointing at your two friends and nearly everyone’s heads turn towards their direction. Your best friend’s cheeks immediately become a rosy pink as he starts to stammer incoherently. It’s the second time you’ve seen him at a loss for words. Something is not right with the world; maybe you need to check if pigs are flying outside.

“If you wanted me to kiss you that bad, you could’ve just said so. No need to shove Y/N.” Jaemin teases, chuckling when Donghyuck flushes even darker, various splotches of crimson appearing on his face. Meanwhile, Chenle has started drunkenly chanting “KISS! KISS! KISS!” (Doyoung quickly joins in. Karma is sweet and doesn’t taste like raw Pillsbury dough. Honestly, that’s on him for trusting any food given to him by Donghyuck).

“Shut up, that’s not why I did that!” he exclaims indignantly, and Jaemin’s smile only widens before leaning in so close that their noses are nearly touching. “Oh, so you wanted to kiss me?”

“No!” Donghyuck backpedals so fast he almost hits his head against the side of the doorway. Jaemin glances over at you and winks, much to your best friend’s chagrin. “Care to be his white knight?”

The thought of you kissing Jaemin turns him greener than the Grinch and envy combined, and Donghyuck’s jaw tightens. Before you can formulate any sort of reply, he immediately leans forward and hastily presses a sloppy kiss against Jaemin’s cheek before giving him a resting Grinch face.

“There. Done.”

“So you didn’t want me to kiss Y/N,” Jaemin muses, eyes twinkling with mirth, and Donghyuck gives him a withering look. If looks can kill, Jaemin would be six feet under with the gravestone already set on top. Your best friend stomps over to you, and you’re still gaping at him as he tugs at your arm. He makes sure to grab some cookies and eggnog before pulling you out the back door and away from Public Enemy #1 (Jaemin) and Public Enemy #2 (Chenle). He can still hear Public Enemy #2 yelling that they needed to do a proper kiss.

“I just saved you from a life threatening situation,” he informs you, handing you one of the snickerdoodles before settling down in one of the foldable chairs near the pool. He dunks the remaining one in the cup of eggnog before taking a bite, chewing somewhat angrily.

You furrow your eyebrows, taking a seat next to him and eating the snack. “Kissing Jaemin…?”

Your best friend nods seriously, shoving the rest of the cookie in his mouth before sticking his nose up in the air haughtily. “Yes. What if you started to actually like him? We can’t have that happening. You can only have one trophy wife, and that spot’s been occupied by me since 2000. Jaemin has to find his own Y/N elsewhere because this one is taken.”

Your cheeks grow warm at his declaration, and you laugh it off, finishing the remainder of your cookie and swiping the eggnog from him to take a sip. “Don’t worry, Hyuck. You’re my best friend, and no one can replace you.”

Haechan stays silent, and you glance over at him, carefully putting the cup down on the ground. An unusually serious expression remains on his face, and you tilt your head slightly as you take a better look at him, failing to decipher it.

“Is that all you see me as?”

“I… What do you mean?”

Donghyuck gives you a half smile, twisting one of the bells sewn to his sleeve, “I mean, do you only see me as your best friend?”

Just say it. You want to say it, scream it out, but the words get caught in your throat. He laughs quietly, nervously, and buries his face in his hands for a few moments before looking back at you, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly before carding his fingers through his hair.

“I’m gonna sound crazy, but I can’t stop thinking about you. Am I the only one who feels like I’m about to have a heart attack every time we hold hands? Like fuck, I’m going batshit crazy over here, and I can’t keep it to myself anymore, and I’m sorry for dumping all this on you and ruining our friendship, but when I saw that you might kiss Jaemin, I just—”

You kiss him.

Donghyuck freezes up momentarily as he belatedly realizes that oh my god, you are kissing him. Armed with this mind blowing revelation, he eagerly presses his lips against yours firmly, yet still tenderly. He tugs you closer, pulling you onto his lap, holding you tighter, almost like he’s afraid this is another dream and he’ll wake up and find you gone. Your hands cradle his cheeks delicately, and when you pull away, you’re in absolute awe of just how beautiful your best friend is. His lips have turned the prettiest shade of red, and he looks at you with all the stars and galaxies in his eyes. You gaze at him adoringly before leaning forward and booping your nose against his.

Dazed, he laughs a little breathlessly before reaching for one of your hands and slipping his fingers in between the crevices of yours. “If that’s how you’re gonna shut me up from now on, I’m never gonna stop talking.”

Grinning, you lean forward and give him another kiss for good measure. “I hope that answers your question.”

“Mm, the answer isn’t really clear. I’m gonna need you to clarify it for me,” he says, a shit eating grin on his face, and you roll your eyes before deciding to reuse his earlier words.

“To clarify, I can’t stop thinking about you, like I’m about to have a heart attack every time we hold hands or hug or do anything remotely romantic. Like fuck, I’m going batshit crazy over here, and I can’t keep it to myself anymore, so when are you gonna kiss me and shut me up so I don’t have to keep confessing my feelings and inflating your already massive ego?”

Your best friend laughs out loud as he teases, “Hey, you like me and my massive ego.”

You start to open your mouth to protest, but he finally complies with your request, closing the distance as his lips softly meet yours for a third time. Eyes fluttering shut, you enjoy the moment, pressing your mouth against his, smiling, and you can feel his grin as well. When you reluctantly break the kiss, you plant another one on his cheek affectionately, and he beams at you, the softest starstruck expression on his face.

“For extra clarification,” you start, and he cocks his head to the side, listening attentively. “Will you officially be my trophy wife, not only in a best friend way, but in a boyfriend way, too?”

He lets out a guffaw, the corners of his lips quirking up into a smirk as he drawls, “I don’t know, where’s the diamond ring? Can you afford me?”

“Huh, I guess not. Maybe I should ask Jaemin instead.”

Donghyuck frowns at you. “Take that back right now.”

You shrug, hiding a smile. “I’m just saying, he’s probably less demanding, too. And he won’t mooch off of my Netflix, Amazon, and Hulu accounts.”

“First off, I’m gonna do that regardless,” he says shamelessly without batting an eyelash. “Secondly, you asked me first, and I humbly accept your offer.”

“What if I changed my mind? Have you considered that?”

“Nope, never considered it. There’s no take backs. No returns. You’re stuck with the very best for the rest of your life.”

“Really? Even if I can’t get you a diamond ring?”

“Yes.” Donghyuck nods resolutely with the conviction of a game show contestant locking in their answer for the million dollar prize. He looks you straight in the eye as he declares loudly, “I’m going to be your trophy wife.��

“But I’ll take payments in the form of mozzarella sticks and chicken tenders starting now,” he quickly adds on as an afterthought.

You pretend to think it over until you see the slightest trace of uncertainty in his eyes. He begins to pout, and you relent. “Okay, fine, deal. Let’s go to the dining hall. It closes in an hour.”

He brightens up immediately, and you have to resist the urge to kiss him silly. You get up, pulling him with you and keeping your hand in his, and he happily bounces next to you at the prospect of free food (and at the fact that he can kiss you whenever he wants now). The two of you start to walk towards the side gate when he stops.

“Wait, can we make a quick detour?”

Five minutes later, you and your boyfriend are banned from coming into the frat house until all the mistletoe is taken down from every doorway. Donghyuck grins smugly when the two of you rush past a familiar face down the front porch steps, running away from one very angry looking Doyoung.

Take that, Public Enemy #1.

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lostinthewiind · 3 years ago

Text

Piss Off Your Parents - Part 1

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

Synopsis: freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren't a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner's 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: none

Song → 18 by Anarbor

A/N: if you couldn’t already tell, I have planned this as a series/full story. I was torn between writing it on here or on Wattpad or something, but ultimately decided on Tumblr . . . but let me know if you would prefer it on another platform as well! Also, this series will eventually include smut/NSFW content but that will be tagged appropriately when the time comes. As always, I hope you enjoy.

Next →Part 2

Slamming the front door behind yourself on your way out that morning, you quickly stuffed your earbuds into your ears and cranked your music as loud as you could to drown out the sounds of your parents yelling after you and, consequently, at one another after you had dropped the bomb about your new job on them seconds before you had left, giving them as little time as possible to shame you for it.

After graduating high school and turning 18, you had decided it was time to take your life into your hands, which wasn’t too easy while you were still living under your parents’ roof, but you had to start somewhere and that somewhere was getting a job at the local corner store, Sakanoshita Market.

You knew that your parents wanted you to go to university and ‘make something of yourself’, but you also knew that you could never truly be happy under their dictatorship-like ruling, so you decided to get a job, no matter how shitty, save your money, move out as soon as possible, and go from there.

It was definitely going to be a process, and not an easy one, but all you had to do was take it one step at a time.

Rounding the corner and seeing the market in the distance, you felt your nerves begin to bubble inside of you a little. Sure, you had gotten some part-time jobs here and there during summer vacation before, but you had never gotten a full-time job before and had never needed the money from a job like you did now. Before, the cash you made was for extra spending money during the summer and school year, but now the money you would be making would be funding your future. It seemed like a lot of pressure to put on a job that entailed stocking shelves, checking out customers, and cleaning.

The lady who had hired you had basically explained that since she was getting older and her son, who had been maintaining the place previously, had gotten a new job, the store needed someone to learn the ropes and take care of the place on a daily basis; and since you were young, a fast learner, and didn’t have anything else in your life besides work, you were a perfect fit.

As the shop doors slid open smoothly to welcome you into the store you had been inside countless times in the past, you suddenly felt completely out of place in the familiar market. Now that you were an employee instead of a customer, the atmosphere had completely shifted. Instead of heading right for the fridges to grab a drink like you usually did, your eyes shifted immediately to the front counter where a figure with its feet up hid behind an open newspaper.

Just like every other time you had visited while the store owner’s son was working, he did everything humanly possible to avoid interaction. Usually, you would have appreciated not being bothered while trying to scan the shelves, but since this time was different, the lack of acknowledgement was slightly unnerving.

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat, hoping it was enough to catch his attention. It was not. Instead, he flipped the page of the newspaper and you watched as a hand emerged from behind the paper barrier to flick the ashes from his cigarette into an ashtray sitting beside the register.

Eyebrows furrowed, you really wished that the shop owner herself had been there to greet you for your first day instead of her seemingly useless son. “Hello.” You stepped up to the counter, the feeling of not belonging sinking deeper into your bones.

Slowly, the newspaper separating you from the man behind the counter lowered and the shop owner’s son glared back at you, eyes half-lidded as if he were seconds away from falling asleep and the cigarette from before hanging from his bottom lip. This was far from the first time you had interacted with him, but you would be surprised if he remembered you as a customer even a little. Whenever he checked customers out, you could tell he was running on autopilot.

The man’s eyes drifted down to your hands, which were resting on top of the counter now. Noticing you didn’t have anything to purchase, he cocked a brow. “Need help finding somethin’?”

“Ugh, no,” you answered. “I’m the new employee. I’m supposed to start today.”

His eyes scanned you once more, this time more thoroughly, and you swallowed hard. Feeling as if you were being observed under a microscope, you slid your hands off of the counter and stuffed them into your pockets self-consciously.

As he inspected you inch by inch, you took the time to take a closer look at him as well. With dyed blonde hair, two earrings in his left ear, an apparent nicotine addiction, and a noticeably flippant attitude toward his job, he was the definition of the type of man your parents would kill you for bringing home. Somehow, this only made him more intriguing. You wondered if he really was as disinterested in everything as he seemed or if it was just this job he thoroughly hated and became someone a lot more interesting when he wasn’t behind a counter.

“How old are you?” he asked out of the blue, catching you off guard a little. While he waited for you to answer, he set the newspaper to the side, dragged his feet from the counter top, and patted out some of the wrinkles from the white apron he had tied around his bright orange sweatshirt.

“I’m 18,” you responded, not sure why it mattered but also not seeing any harm in answering honestly.

Seconds later, the door to the back of the shop and storage room opened and the familiar face of the woman who had hired you stepped into view. “Oh, Y/N!” she greeted happily; much more enthusiastically and welcoming than her son. “Sorry about that, I was just getting some last minute things together.” She eyed her son out of the corner of her eye and noted the fresh embers in the ashtray. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“No, I just got here,” you told her.

“Good.” She smiled sweetly before turning to her son. “Well, you can head out now, Keishin. Thank you for watching the counter.”

“Yeah,” the man, Keishin, grunted as he untied the apron from around his waist, slipped it over his head, and hung it up on a hook behind the counter. “See ya.”

With that, Keishin left, leaving you and his mother alone. Wasting no time, Mrs. Sakanoshita, whom the store was named after, got right to work on teaching you the basics and gifting you with a white apron of your own to wear while on the job. Since it was the middle of the day and the customer flow was relatively slow, she introduced you to how the register and scanner at the counter worked before moving on to unpacking boxes.

Just like you had promised on your resume and during the interview, you were a quick learner and Mrs. Sakanoshita was more than pleased to see you picking up the job quickly and efficiently.

By the time the after work/school rush of patrons picking up items on their way home had begun, you were feeling confident in your abilities and, with your boss by your side to answer any questions you may have, you checked out customer after customer, building up muscle memory for scanning items, collecting cash, opening the register, handing out receipts, and sending customers on their merry way.

All in all, the job was quickly growing on you. You liked the fact that, for the most part, you were the only employee on duty, so when there weren’t any customers in the store, you could work silently on unpacking boxes without having to worry about making small talk or being friendly with any coworkers. In fact, as far as you knew, the only people who worked at the store at all were you, Mrs. Sakanoshita, and her son, Keishin.

It seemed as though you had really landed a sweet gig.

After showing you how to lock up, Mrs. Sakanoshita headed home for the night, leaving you to finish stocking the shelves and cleaning the shop before you would head home as well.

Now that you were truly the only person left, you walked over to the old radio you had spotted on the counter during training that day and fiddled with the dials, trying to get some music playing to accompany you during your evening chores. After some careful handiwork and enduring some horrendous static and high-pitched screeching while searching for a station, you settled on what sounded like some old instrumental music and got to work on stocking the remaining shelves.

Throughout your shift, you quickly learned that the store got quite warm during the day and you had needed to tie your hair up to keep the back of your neck from dripping with sweat. The night wasn’t much better either, especially since the lack of customers so late meant that the doors rarely opened, keeping the cold night air outside and the warm store air inside.

After finishing the last box of supplies, you exhaled and wiped your brow. You were exhausted, that was for sure, but you still had to sweep.

Deciding to take a quick break, you turned toward the floor-to-ceiling fridges at the back of the shop and pulled open the door, sighing happily when the cool air hit your skin. Exhaling slowly, you snickered when you saw your breath fog up in front of you face.

“You’re letting all the cold air out.”

You shrieked when you heard a voice in your right ear and slammed the fridge door shut, jumping back in the process. Thanks to the music from the radio and the loud hum of the generator that kept the fridges cold, you hadn’t heard the front doors slide open or the footsteps of Keishin approaching you.

“Jesus!” You clamped your hand over your chest. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Sorry?”

“What are you doing here?”

Keishin glared at you. “You work here one day and suddenly act like you own the place?”

Realizing how rude your question had come across, you composed yourself and rephrased. “What I meant was, your mom didn’t say you were coming back.”

Pointing upward, Keishin sighed, disinterested. “I live in the apartment above the shop.”

“Oh.” Things started making much more sense and you suddenly felt pretty embarrassed for how you had reacted.

“Yeah . . . oh.” He rolled his eyes, but it didn’t come across necessarily rude but more like he was exhausted and you were adding to said exhaustion. “Why were you standing with the door open anyway?”

As he spoke, he stepped toward you. At first, your feet felt cemented to the floor and you didn’t move. But when he persisted closer, you eventually stumbled back and Keishin opened the fridge door you had been standing in front of to grab a beer from inside. With drink in hand, he eyed you once again, waiting for an answer.

“It’s really hot,” you said, gesturing to his orange sweater. “I don’t know how you wear that thing in here.”

Looking down at his apparel, he just shrugged. “You’ll get used to it.” He turned and started for the counter, presumably to pay for the drink he had just taken. “In the future, stand outside if you’re warm.”

“Okay.” You nodded, mindlessly tailing him. You had to grab the broom from behind the counter anyway, but that was the furthest thing from the front of your mind at that moment. If anything, you were still trying to calm down a little from being startled and now being alone with your boss’s son. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He popped the tab on the beer, settled into the stool behind the counter, and downed at least half of the drink in a few large gulps.

You watched him, probably a little too closely, and as you did you found yourself reexamining the features you had taken note of earlier that day: the dyed blonde hair held out of his face with a thin black headband, the natural brown hair that peeked out from the roots, the two small silver hoop earrings in his left ear, the scent of cigarette smoke that clung to him like how the smell of rain clung to the air after a heavy storm.

Noticing your gaze, which would have been nearly impossible to miss, Keishin quirked a brow at you and held out the can of beer toward you. “You want a sip?”

Startled from your thoughts, you shook your head. “I’m only 18.” You reminded him.

“Oh, right.” He withdrew the can and took another sip, this one much smaller than the first few. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

Eyes wide, you thought quick to come up with an excuse. “The broom.” You pointed to the item behind him. “Can you pass me the broom?”

After handing you the broom, Keishin pulled a slip of paper and a pen out from his pocket and started writing and scribbling things down, sipping the remainder of his beer occasionally and ignoring you completely.

Trying to avoid staring at Keishin anymore than you already had, you started sweeping at the far end of the store and left the area around and behind the counter for last. Eventually, though, you had worked your way back over to the the silent man and was forced to clean the floor behind where he was sitting, trying hard not to disturb him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of what he was so focused on; it looked like a crude drawing of a volleyball court. “What’s that?” you asked, the words leaving your mouth before you realized you were being rude again and snooping.

Keishin, however, didn’t seem angry or annoyed in the slightest. “Volleyball positions,” he huffed. It was clear he was growing frustrated.

“You play volleyball?”

He shook his head and looked over his shoulder at you. “I used to. Now I coach the boy’s team at Karasuno.”

“I went to Karasuno,” you said mindlessly, just trying to make conversation at that point.

He hummed in response and turned his attention back to the sheet before him. “Did you play volleyball?”

“No. Soccer.”

“Do you still play?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Do you still play volleyball?”

“With a neighbourhood association sometimes . . . but not really.”

“Why?”

The corners of his mouth curling up into a smirk, Keishin looked back to you once more. “I asked you first.”

“It’s not a good answer.” You leaned against the broom handle and sighed. “Don’t have the time.”

“You’re young and just graduated high school. You’ve got nothing but time.”

“Not with this job.”

Keishin scoffed, folded the paper, and shoved it back into his pocket with the pen. “Speaking of which, why would you take such a boring job at a store like this?”

You just shrugged. “I need the money.”

“Don’t you live with your parents?”

“That’s the problem,” you said, noticing the confusion on his face. “I told you it wasn’t a good answer.”

“Do they know you work here?”

“Do they know? Yes,” you answered truthfully. “Do they like it? Absolutely not.”

Keishin grinned at that before finishing his beer and tossing the empty can into the recycling bin beside the front door. “So you’re one of those teens, huh?”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Trust me, kid, pissing off your parents just for the sake of it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“You think I’m doing all this just because I can?”

“Aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Why then?”

“That story’s too long and convoluted for me to recite right now . . . especially to some old dude I just met today.”

Keishin chuckled under his breath, hands stuffed into his pockets as he headed for the door at the back of the shop so he could head upstairs to his apartment. “’Old dude’,” he repeated, clearly amused. “Don’t forget to lock up before you go home.”

As he turned his back to you, your curiosity got the better of you. “How old are you?”

Stopping in his tracks, Keishin pulled out a carton of cigarettes from his pants’ pocket along with a lighter. After placing the smoke between his lips, he lit it and inhaled deeply. “Too old for you, sweetheart,” he spoke while exhaling, smoke spilling from his lips as he smirked at you.

With that, he disappeared into the back. You wanted to shout after him that you had told him how old you were without hesitation when he had asked, but you stayed silent instead.

As much as his presence unnerved you and his superiority complex aggravated you, you still found yourself inexplicably drawn to him. Maybe it was because he seemed completely disinterested in you, or maybe it was because he was everything you were always told to stay away from.

The one thing you did know, however, was that if everyone around you was going to keep trying to convince you they knew how you should live your life better than you did, you were going to prove to them just how they wrong they were one way or another.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #lostinthewiind #fanfiction #fluff #eventual smut #ukai keishin #reader insert #x reader #reader imagine #song fic #ukai keishin x reader #ukai #keishin #smut #haikyuu smut

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1kook · 4 years ago

Text

ZOOM CALL

⇢ meeting two

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

⇢ series masterlist

summary: Most notably, there’s one group project waiting for you, which leads you to Friday. Sitting at your desk, bright and early, absolutely dreading being assigned to your group. genre: fluff, slice of life, smut (tags tba) warnings: ITS A SLOW BURN OKAY...., sweetheart jk, campus crush jk, college crushes, social distancing, zoom -_-, jk owns a keroppi plush, oc thirsts over his hot bod, jk’s sweet attempts at flirting </3 he’s just 2 cute for his own good ratings: e for everyone <3 wc: 3.7k

notes: this took long bc i wrote one version but it was SO LAME u guys r lucky my friend and editor ( @kigurumu 🖤 ) stopped me from posting it. so then i had to reorganize my thoughts n b like girl. the ppl are waiting. get it together. anyway here’s zoom jk 😎

Being grouped with Jeon Jungkook (he/him) for your first class on the first day of your first Zoom semester truly sets the standard.

By no means do your other classes suck; they’re quite enjoyable, more relevant to your area of study. They’re familiar which makes them comfortable, your Zoom meetings filled with faces you’ve seen time and time again the last four years. The material interests you, so you definitely don’t have anything against them or your classmates.

That being said, no one is prepared for the awkwardness that comes with each and every Zoom meeting. You never thought you’d be embarrassed to turn your mic on— to speak in a class filled with your peers. And the meetings are all like that, filled with uncomfortable silences and endless black screens.

You wish there was a Jeon Jungkook (he/him) in every class.

Jungkook’s just got this bubbly aura to him, this magnetic presence that staples itself into the back of your mind with each passing day. No one fills a Zoom call like he does, making every person laugh and smile like him.

Wednesday rolls around and you find yourself a little disheartened when you don’t get sorted into the same randomized group as him again. Disappointment melts into annoyance when you find out how incompetent your other classmates are, refusing to speak in the small group or just completely clocking out all together. A lot of them didn’t do the reading— the one you stayed up all night doing —and your first partnered assignment of the semester finds you doing it all by yourself. Muted mics, black windows, complete radio silence; you hated it all.

You find yourself weirdly longing for Jeon Jungkook’s presence, even if he’s only there to talk about some movie he saw last night. No one is as much of a chatterbox as him, can’t even hold a candle to the way he draws everyone in with his mindless conversations. At least he speaks during Breakout Rooms, you think bitterly.

Anyway, the first week of classes ends and your brain is a frenzied mess. There’s schedules to memorize, professors to impress, assignments to plan out. There’s definitely no time to sit around and fantasize about the curly haired cutie in one of your general classes. The weekend is spent trying to organize your planner, filling in due dates and exam days ahead of time. It’s your last semester and you’re dead set on making it your best one yet. There’s a lot of written work this time around, analyses and research papers that need to be organized. The road ahead is manageable, but you’ll have to work hard to keep it that way for the next five months.

Most notably, there’s one group project waiting for you, which leads you to Friday. Sitting at your desk, bright and early, absolutely dreading being assigned to your group.

Jungkook is early this time, not like on Monday where he’d been one of the last to filter in, and he’s looking as chirpy as ever. Donning this horrendously hot pink shirt, completely unlike the neutral tones he’d worn during your last two meetings and that decorate his room, and the cutest pair of circle glasses sitting on his nose. He says his regularly scheduled ‘good morning’ to you all and receives a collective response from the rest of the class that not even your professor got.

Speaking of the professor, you’ve been giving him the stink eye this whole time. Not that he can tell, given the fact he’s probably miles away in his own home while you angrily glare at him through your webcam. It’s this old guy who’s decided to sort you all into semester long groups for the class, which is the absolute worst. These types of groups always go the same way: you make a group chat promising to study together, those plans fall through, and then everyone just leeches off of each other for homework answers. And in most cases, it’s you handing over your homework answers because no one else ever bothers to do anything. Sadly, it’s a routine you’ve had to suffer through many times in your academic career.

The thought makes you sick. Having to spend another semester being labeled as the bossy, nerdy dictator of the group? Not exactly how you wanted to spend the last few months of college, but there’s nothing you can do. Maybe this time around you’ll just let it be, won’t fight it (and by it, you mean your lazy classmates when they inevitably try to guilt trip you for homework) and simply let it run its course.

“I’m going to put you guys into Breakout Rooms with your new groups!” your professor claps excitedly, and then you and the rest of your classmates are forced to watch him lean too close to the camera as he begins clicking around to find the preset groups he’s assigned the class. “Remember, guys, this is it for the rest of the semester. So if something isn’t right, let me know by the end of today.”

Man, this was going to suck, you groan. The syllabus had said that the purpose of these groups was to keep you all connected with your classmates during these trying times, to give you the same opportunities in-person learning would. Frankly, you’re not too worried about making friends with everyone in this large class. Most of them are younger than you anyway, save for Jeon Jungkook (he/him) and a handful of others who are apparently in your year. Befriending lowerclassmen only to have to bid them adieu in a few months seems awfully sad, a little too heartbreaking. You really just want to get a good grade in this class, collect the last of your credits, and put this whole college experience behind you.

Your thoughts are wrapped up by the pop-up message that appears on screen.

The host is inviting you to join a Breakout Room: Group 12

You sigh, contemplate dropping this class for all of two seconds, before dutifully accepting the request. Worse comes to worst, you make up some lie to tell your professor that you’re allergic to group work and hope it works. (It won’t.)

You sit through the mandatory loading screen for a few seconds before being abruptly dumped into your new room, Group 12, or so the message had said. There’s no one else here yet, which isn’t really a surprise. A lot of your classmates are probably like you, scowling at the pop up message every time your professor sends you into small groups before accepting the request. So you chill by yourself, eyes tracing over your own mirrored image. The notes on last night’s reading are neatly laid out before you, your copy of the book off to the side.

Another beat and then, much to your surprise, Jeon Jungkook (he/him) is appearing in your room. “Oh,” he says, round eyes magnified by the thick lens of his glasses, the glare of the computer’s glow casting a funny shape across the lens that momentarily robs you of his pretty eyes. His pretty pink lips stretch into a smile, upper lip thinning out a bit when he flashes you those perfect teeth. “Hi, __,” he greets politely, bubbly.

It’s embarrassing how much his presence affects you, your back going ramrod straight in a terrible attempt to compose yourself. “Hi, Jungkook,” you manage to get out, fingers nervously reaching for something, anything, to ground yourself. They land on a pencil.

Jungkook doesn’t seem even the slightest bit aware of the commotion he causes within you. “I was really nervous for these groups,” he begins rambling right away, lips pushing down into an exaggerated frown as he shivers at the memory. “But I’m glad I got placed with someone hardworking like you!”

Despite how sweet he sounds, you’re not entirely sure if he’s buttering you up just to take advantage of your ‘hardworking’ attitude later down the road or if he’s genuinely being polite. The little information you know about Jungkook wants you to believe it is the latter; he’s very kind, sweet and nice in a way that makes everyone he speaks to feel warm. Still, for all you know this could be some elaborate ruse of his to make you trust him now and then convince you to do all the work for the rest of the semester.

Tentatively, you ask, “and how would you know that?” You try your best to keep your usual snappiness out of your voice, pose it simply out of curiosity. But everything you say or do feels like a stark contrast to Jungkook and his bubbliness.

His head tilts cutely to the side, imploring brown eyes looking at you for one hard second. And then, “I read your forum analysis from Wednesday,” he admits, breaking into a smile. Shy and tiny, bashfully looking down at his desk. “I thought your perspective on the piece was really interesting,” he says, lips pursing together as if he’s suddenly too embarrassed to admit such things to you.

Stunned, all you can manage is one slow nod. “Thank you,” you eventually choke out, trying to ward the heat away from your cheeks as Jungkook sheepishly nods back, cute smile still on his face.

“Oh, please,” he chuckles, raising his hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Don’t thank me!”

It is in this exact moment that you are suddenly made aware of two things.

One: despite his collection of soft sweaters and t-shirts, his bouncy curls and sweet smile, Jeon Jungkook’s body is neither as cute nor as soft as any of his belongings. In fact, Jeon Jungkook’s body is all hard planes and prominent veins. Arms beefy, biceps that bulge beneath the fabric of the short sleeve t-shirt he’s donned today. His shoulders fill out the material nicely, making him look broad and huge, but that’s not even the worst part, because—

—two: Jeon Jungkook is covered in ink. Dark streaks and swirls paint his forearms, curling around his elbow. Every inch of his pale skin is littered with tiny designs. They dance along the back of his hands, over his knuckles, and end at an unidentifiable point beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. When he tugs at the neckline of his shirt in an effort to readjust it, you hope your eyes are deceiving you and that isn’t a hint of ink by his collarbone.

Your normal composure seems to slip away at the mere thought.

It’s Jungkook’s voice that brings you back, a soft timbre that asks, “aren’t we supposed to have someone else in our group?” You flinch as if you’ve been caught ogling him, never mind the fact he’s started mindlessly shuffling some papers around on his desk, not the slightest bit concerned with you.

“Oh— um, yes. I think,” you stammer, feeling like some creep for ogling your very cute, very sweet classmate. The memory of his inky skin nearly sends a shiver down your spine as you navigate back to the class syllabus. “We’re supposed to have at least three people,” you read off, glancing at the boy on your screen who frowns at the news.

“Do you think they dropped?” Given it was still only the first week of school, probably. There had been a fewer number of people in the call when it started, you remembered. Jungkook sighs, this rather light sound that ends in a hum. “Well, we can always wait a few minutes just in case.”

So you wait, nervously bouncing your leg up and down. It’s not awkward, or at least, not as awkward as it would be with anyone else. The other week you had silently sat with another classmate in a one-on-one discussion and hadn’t uttered a word for five minutes. It wasn’t because you didn’t care about the class, but because said classmate had been tapping away on their phone the entire time and hadn’t even responded to your simple greeting. That was awkward.

With Jungkook it’s more weird than awkward. You can tell the silence makes him uncomfortable because he keeps doing these tiny inhales like he’s about to speak, followed by a little head shake where he seemingly stops himself from saying anything at all. He wants to talk, very badly it seems, but holds back for some odd reason.

He’s scribbling on some sheet of paper, leaning forward to give you a view of the top of his head. From this angle, his shirt hangs forward and a silver necklace falls out from beneath the neckline, thuds against the table. And then your suspicions are nearly confirmed, and oh god, is that a chest piece—

You quickly look away.

Robbed of his handsome face and feeling like you’ll die if you look at his body any longer, you settle for your newly acquired favorite pastime: inspecting your classmates’ rooms over Zoom. Yes, you’ll admit it is incredibly nosy, but what else can you do? You can only look at your professor for so long until you inevitably grow bored, attention drifting off to your classmates tiny windows. And with no professor in sight, just gorgeous Jeon Jungkook, you quickly begin your examination of his bedroom.

Jungkook’s room is pretty much the same as you remember it, rather neat and plain. There’s not a lot going on in terms of decoration, which is a little surprising to say the least. Over the course of the week, you’ve watched your classmates’ dormitories and bedrooms gradually change, decorations and tapestries decorating the walls, mountains of pillows added to their beds. It’s only natural that everyone has an innate need to show off who they are now more than ever, and you thought Jungkook would be the same.

Apparently not.

Aside from the guitar you had spotted on Monday, his little dorm room remains unchanged. Blank walls, grayscale sheets. The same perfectly fluffed pillows and then—

A tiny Keroppi plush smack dab in the middle of his bed.

It’s adorable but a little out of place amongst Jungkook’s rather masculine decorations (or lack thereof). A tiny green doll sitting by his pillows, cute striped shirt and ridiculously dopey smile.

Leaning forward, you unmute yourself and conversationally say, “I love your Keroppi.”

At the sudden sound of your voice, Jungkook abruptly straightens up, glasses practically at the very tip of his nose. Eyes wide, it takes him a second to process your words before jerkily whipping around to stare at the aforementioned item. “Oh,” he jumps, slowly looking at his screen again, lips pulled into a tight line. “Um… it’s not mi—“

“It’s adorable,” you add, propping your chin in your palm, absolutely endeared with the rosy color that paints his cheeks, fades down the column of his neck.

He squirms, hurriedly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He looks like he’ll deny it again, nervously nibbling at his lower lip, before eventually he settles with a sigh. “I won it from a crane machine,” he confesses with a sheepish huff of laughter, rolling backwards to the edge of his bed to snatch it from its spot.

(Of course he manspreads as he sits, dark jeans hugging his thighs as he rolls back your way. His arm looks so strong, covered in all that ink, you nearly drool.)

“It’s cute, isn’t it?” he says, abandoning his embarrassment as he shakes the little figure around, makes it look like it’s dancing for you. “My mom said it looks like me.”

At that, you laugh. Loud and boisterous because you were definitely not expecting Jungkook to say that, such an odd but weirdly fitting comparison that has you looking at the doll in his hands with renewed interest. And through the pixelated screen, you can see the similarities: Jungkook does have the same smile as Keroppi.

“Your mom was right,” you agree, wiping a faux tear from the corner of your eye. “Very cute.”

Jungkook’s got this big goofy smile on, shaking his head in disbelief that you would ever dare agree with his mom. Like he’s genuinely enjoying himself, you think, oddly proud to have evoked that reaction from him. Granted, Jungkook always looks like he’s pretty happy during class, but it feels nice knowing that you were (confirmed) the reason why.

A little caught up with the bumbling feeling in your chest, you’re not expecting his next words. “Does that mean I’m cute?” he asks, still with that same dopey smile on his face.

It’s a bold statement you wouldn’t have expected from him, someone who seems content being the world’s friend, but apparently Jeon Jungkook also craves compliments.

Slowly, you nod. “...yes,” you say, trying to keep the tumultuous emotions inside of you at bay while you grant him this one compliment. Outwardly, you give him what you hope is an obviously feigned look of disbelief, managing to lace it with a little amusement as you shake your head at his inquiry. On the inside, your mind and heart are a thundering racetrack, the roar of the engines and the screams of the crowd enough to momentarily make you lose your senses. “Very cute,” you repeat, hoping he can’t hear the same pounding of your heartbeat in your throat and in your ears as you do. “Like a little frog.”

Jungkook graces your robotic response with the most boyish laugh, head tossed back as one loud cackle (because, really, there is no other way to describe the sound that tears itself from his throat) escapes him, curls bouncing back from the movement. “Cute like a frog,” he wheezes, seemingly to himself as he shakes his head with a grin, scooting closer to the camera again. “That’s a new one.”

“You set yourself up for it,” you defend, busying yourself with the papers spread out in front of you before Jungkook can distract you any further. “Anyway!” you announce, neatly lining the papers up. “Our group.”

Jungkook does his best to wipe the glee off his face, but even as he reaches around for his things, it’s still there. “Right,” he agrees, “we have to, um—“ a huff of laughter “—group contract! Or, well, partner project.”

Briefly, you consider calling in your professor to inform him of your missing partner. He had said to let him know by the end of today if something was wrong. But, honestly, you didn’t see a problem with your group the way it was now. While you can only hope he’ll turn out to be as dedicated to his work as you, as it stands now, there weren’t any major red flags surrounding Jungkook’s character.

Besides, you didn’t mind being with him for the rest of the semester.

You nod, forcing yourself to ignore the glimmer in his eyes when he looks at you through the screen. “I think it’s safe to say it’ll just be the two of us, which I don’t mind,” you say, glancing at the time on the corner of your screen to see five minutes have passed since you agreed to wait. “Do you?”

On screen, Jungkook profusely shakes his head, curls bouncing all over the place. “Nope,” he hums. “I don’t mind at all,” he reassures you, resting his chin in his palm as he regards you, and then sweetly adds, “it’ll be nice with just us, __.”

Right.

You gulp, heart fluttering at the dreaminess he exudes through your screen, the soft strand of hair that falls over his forehead, tickles his brow bone when he flashes you another smile. He was so handsome. Before you say anything silly, you quickly attempt to move on. “But it does make us more of a duo than a group.”

Jungkook looks away from his screen for the first time in what feels like forever and you finally let your heart rest for a second. “A duo,” he murmurs, shuffling through his papers. “Like Mickey and Minnie?”

You nearly choke on your spit, coughing to hide the surprise from his rather cute suggestion. He’s not even looking at you, doesn’t even realize the absolute shock he’s thrown you in by comparing the two of you to one of the most famous couples— that’s what they are, a goddamn couple, not a duo! the words mean two completely different things! —in the world. Instead, Jungkook is humming the theme song to Drake & Josh.

This man was dangerous for your heart.

After having felt all the emotions in the world in the span of ten seconds, you eventually gather the courage to say, “sure,” and quickly try to move the conversation along. “We just need to, um, make some ground rules and responsibilities for us to follow.”

Jungkook nods, finally glancing up again, but not at you. He’s glaring at some point behind his computer, brows furrowed together as he begins brainstorming on his own. You try to, really, but his lips pout adorably when he’s deep in thought, and they’re just so pink and look so soft and would feel like—

“Well, we should probably exchange numbers first,” Jungkook says, interrupting your spiraling thoughts with a new topic to spiral over. He tilts his head to the side, brown eyes focused on you.

“Yes, of course,” you stammer, fumbling for your phone as Jungkook lets out a soft yay at your acceptance of his request. Quickly, he recites his number and you type it in with trembling hands into the number pad, giving him a quick call so he can have your number as well.

You save him right away, just his name followed by the class you share with him. Not like you know any other Jeon Jungkooks, and if you did, you doubt anyone could ever leave such an impact like this Jeon Jungkook.

“__, look,” Jungkook calls, that same excitement lacing his already lovely voice, and you raise your head up at the screen again. He’s waving his phone over his camera, so you don’t get to see his face when he says, “It’s a little mouse emoji and a pink bow— just like Minnie!”

Dangerous for your heart and, most likely, the death of you this semester.

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fic #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk♡#mine

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hobbitsnapes · 3 years ago

Text

YOU GUYS ARE DATING

Corpse x MGK!sister reader

(Found this image on Pinterest so all credit goes to artist, if you know who it is please comment below so I can credit them)

A/N: this was requested by @heyitssab

Tree is tall of sex in this, but it’s more in a joking matter, plus corpse has stated he doesn’t mind as long as you are not a minor or send or tag him. I’m literally 2 years younger than him, and have no intentions of ever tagging him or sending him any of my work XD

Summary: how many idiots does it take to tell the brother and friend they’re dating? Apparently takes 2 very forgetful people, who kept their relationship secret without knowing it.

It had just been by chance, a small chance that he had been scrolling through his tags. liking and reposting art, when he saw a tag from someone he followed. He wrecked his brain for when he had followed her, coming up empty. She was cute, no denying the beauty she had as she laughed in the video. It was a clip from a stream that he didn’t know she had, as he couldn’t even remember her name, wearing his merch as it fit her snug. It fit her perfectly in fact, the large hood covering her face, hiding the flush to her face from her rather large chuckles that left her body. He couldn’t help but like the photo, and he couldn’t help but to press message either.

It was first only small likes to posts, an Occasional message, and a view on their livestreams, but that all changed when he spoke of the song he was working on with her older brother.

It all started that night, when both lay in their beds as they talked, laughed, and felt their hearts flutter each time they heard one another speak.

Her phone rang violently in her bag, nearly making her drop the to go bag all over the ground as she walked. “Hello?” She asked, as she held both bags with her hands as her shoulder gripped the phone as if it’d fall down a cliff. “Hey bug!” He exclaimed, making her chuckle as she heard the booming sound of his voice. She had always detested the nickname, as he gave it to her as kids due to her horrendous fear of the creatures. But, it brought more joy to her, as it reminded her of their youth. Having been adults for years, it was fun to hear such a childish name that’s stuck.

“Hey mopey.” She chuckled, as that was the name she gave him when he was in his emo phase that he never outgrew.

Both talked as she walked towards the elevator, mainly about how his day had gone as she silently listened.

She had always been this way, always the shyer of the two, the one to listen to others first before she said a word. He had teased her for it most of their childhood and teen life, but he had grown to love it, as he could let loose or rant to her about anything, and he knew she’d be there just to listen to him.

“So what’re you doing right now?” He asked, as she got into the elevator. “Just grabbed some dinner a few minutes before you called and nearly made me shit.” A smile painted on her face at his boisterous laughter.

“Are you at home?” He asked, as he heard the sound of the elevator beeping in the background. “No, I’m spending the night with my boyfriend.”

She had mentioned about a month prior that she was seeing someone, the joy it brought him to hear the excitement and joy in her tone as she gushed about their first date.

If this was 7 or 8 years prior, he would be bombarding her with questions about the man, who he was, where he lived, where he could meet him to find his intentions with his baby sister. But, in the last few years, he found himself feeling calmer whenever she’d mentioned her love life. He knew she was smart, and would never date a man who treated her poorly. The few breakups she had, they always ended amicably, her head still high as she told him. So, he never asked her any questions about the man, as he could tell from the few times she mentioned him, he could feel the love this man had for her, and Vice versa.

The strong barreling of her phone alerted them awake, both groaning out as she reached for her phone without lifting her head from his shoulder. “Hello?” She mumbled, voice slurred as the saliva was thick in her mouth, barely awake as she fought to listen in on who dares to wake them up.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, making her equally exhausted lover groan. She shifted off of him, laying on her back as he turned away from her, as to hopefully shut his eyes and fall back asleep. She was used to her brother's large voice, as it hardly phased her after growing up with him. “Colson, why are you calling me this ungodly hour?” “Oh come on, it’s not that early.” “Col its-“ She pulled her phone from her ear, eyes shutting violently as the bright light blinded her “5 o’clock in the morning. So again, I’m going to ask you, why did you call me at the asscrack of dawn?” “You don’t remember?” He asked, making her irritation grow. “No, that’s why I’m asking.” She says, as she rubbed her sleep crusted eyes. “You were coming up today to hang out with casie, remember?” Her hand stopped rubbing her face, as she felt her heart stop momentarily. “Wait, you mean today? I thought I was coming Friday?” “No, both of you settled on today, remember I told you that’s perfect because I have a day off?” She felt her heart pain as she heard the sadness in his tone, knowing he’s expecting her to bail. “Yeah sorry, I thought you meant Friday so I mixed it up, let me get ready and I’ll be out the door okay? Love you” she said, as she hung up the line.

Before she could even move, she felt his arm wrap around her body. A tired groan leaving his lips. “Nooo stayyyy.” He groaned, pulling her body to his. She smiled as she looked down at him, wrapping her arm on his chest and the other behind his neck. “I wish I could live, but I can’t.” Planting a soft kiss against his lips. “Stay in bed for a few more hours, please?” Her heart pulled at his tone, hearing just how tired he was. “I can’t, casies wanted me to come up for weeks now. And it takes a good 3 hours to get there. I wanna spend as much time as I can with them before it gets dark so I can get back safely.” He groaned at this, wrapping his arms around her. “Yeah but it’s only 5, it wouldn’t be safe to drive since we went to bed like, 2 hours ago.” “Yeah, and whos fault was that mister?” She teased, “hmm, sorry but I just couldn’t keep my hands to myself after not seeing you for a few days.” He mused, pulling her body closer to his, planting his lips against hers. A small hum left her lips as he pulled her thigh over his, grabbing the flesh harshly as their lips cascaded together. “Mm, no no no, you’re not gonna convince me to stay here just to go another round.” She said, as she got off from his warm body, throwing his large hoodie over her bare body. “Oh come on babe, are you sure about that?” He said, making her turn around to him. A small gasp left her lips as her eyes took in his milky white complexion. His honey brown eyes looking back at her with a small smile etched onto his face. His hair a tousled mess that resembled a bird's nest, some pieces falling onto his face. “Honey, I’ve been wanting to see my family for weeks now, I see you almost everyday and practically live here. I’ll be back tomorrow so I can grab more clothes from my place okay?” She placed a kiss to his lips, both holding one another in their arms. “I don’t know why you don’t just say fuck that place and just move in.” He mumbled, making her chuckle and heart warm. “Don't you think it’s a little soon though? I mean we’ve only been together a few months love.” “Yeah, but you’ve practically lived here since we got together, you literally just go there to get more clothes that you end up leaving here.” She looked into his eyes as she thought about his words. “Hm, I’ll think about it today okay?” She mused, planting a kiss to his lips. A soft okay leaving him as she got up.

“And babe, remember if you live here, we can have all the sex we want and not have to worry about driving to get one another.” He exclaimed, laughing at the loud honey she screamed from the bathroom.

She couldn’t help but laugh out as she watched, as her niece tried her hardest to braid her fathers grown out hair. It was near impossible not to, as pieces would fall out, resulting in her pulling them harsher, nearly pulling his eyelids back due to the tension from his temples. “Okay okay you’re gonna fuckin scalp me.” He chuckled , as all three bursted out in large laughter.

“So how’s school going this year?” She asked her, as she delicately painted her nails. Both of the girls had found themselves on the floor in front of the nice coffee table, as colson sat and chatted with them. “It’s going really well.” “Oh yeah? Make any new friends?” She teased. “I mean, kinda.” She couldn’t help but hear the wavering in her tone, spotting the faint blush dusting her skin. “Ohh, so there’s a someone eh?” She teased to her, making the preteen hide her face as to conceal the flush. “His names Garrett, and we both take social studies together. He always sits next to me at lunch, and we’ll draw on my notebook.” She gushed, making her smile. “Soo, do you think he likes you?” “I mean, that’s what everyone keeps saying.” “Yeah well don’t worry about it to much cas, you’re not dating anyone for many more years. You’re still a kid.” Her das said, making the young girls face fall.

Y/N knew he was only saying this to protect her, as he said the same thing to her growing up. “Hey, don’t be bummed out about it. He is right, you both are only 12 and should focus on school. But don’t worry, he’ll come around. He was just like that with me up until my current boyfriend.” She whispered, making the young girl chuckle.

“Speaking of which, how are you guys doing?” He asked, as she hadn’t mentioned hun to her in a while. He didn’t think it’d hurt to ask. “Great actually, we’re thinking of moving in together actually.” “That’s great! I’m really happy that y’all met.” “Yeah, I am too.” She hummed, a flush dusting her cheeks.

Both men laughed as they chatted on the phone, talking about anything that would come to mind. What was once only a collaboration for a song, turned into an amazing friendship that caused both of them to call at late hours just to shoot the shit.

A yawn left his lips, as he listened to colson ramble on about another song he was making. “Woah, you tired man?” Colson asked, shocked to hear the sound. “Yeah sorry, was up most of the night last night.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Were you feeling alright?” He asked, worry laced in his tone. He knew all about his friends illnesses, even once being on the other end of the phone during a bad spell one day.” “Oh yeah yeah yeah, was just, up with the misses last night.” He chuckled, a flush blooming on his cheeks. “Ohhh yeah? And how was it?” This shocked him, nearly feeling his heart stop. Like, does he usually know about his sisters sex life? He didn’t think much of it, as he knew just how close both were. “It was absolutely fucking amazing. Like I thought we’d be done for the night, fully tapped out but after like 5 minutes she’d be right back on me for another round.” He chuckled, his flush even worse than before. “Ayyyeee good for you corpse, glad to hear that puss is bussin.” He laughed at this, throwing his head back. “Yeah, it’s bussin bussin.”

Both men talk as they read from their phones, eyes wide in absolute awe of the love they received from the song. They had just dropped it a few days prior, not expecting the cry of joy from both fan bases.

He didn’t even look up from it when she walked in, until she bent down to plant a kiss to his forehead. “Sorry I had completely forgot about the tea I made you an hour ago, but I put it back on the stove to heat it up so if it’s twisting funky just tell me okay?” Before he could even thank her, both their heads whipped towards the loudness from the other line. “Y/N? Is that you? What in the hell are you doing there with corpse!” He didn’t sound angry, more shocked than anything, both of them looking at the phone in confusion. “I, I love here? Remember I told you like a month ago I was moving in with him?” “WHAT!” Both jumped at the loud scream. “Wait so you guys are dating!?” Both we’re even more perplexed, until it dawned on both of them. Their eyes wide as they turned their heads to one another slowly. “Wait you didn’t tell him?” “No? He’s one of your best friends so I thought you did!” “He’s your brother! So I thought you did!” Both whisper, until all three lay silent. That was until, the large cry of laughter that leaves the two, leaving colson even more confused. He wasn’t mad, not at all actually. More shocked and confused than anything. Until he started thinking, it does make sense, all the times they spoke about one another without him knowing, all the times they mentioned-“OH GOD!” He yelled, gagging violently, making them stop their laughing fit. “What's wrong? Why are you yelling?” She asks “like a month ago corpse was talking about how he was tired cause he was up all night having sex AND I HAD NO IDEA HE WAS TALKING ABOUT YOU! OH GOD WAS THAT WHY YOU WERE LIMPING THAT DAY WITH CAS AND I!” Both laugh even harder, as they listen to his ever growing gags.

“So yeah,. That’s literally how we had no idea we were keeping the relationship secret from her brother.” He laughed, as he red the comments and listened to his friends' laughter. She sat beside him, head laying on his shoulder as he told the story. She couldn’t help but to look back up into his eyes, as he glanced down at her, planting a soft kiss to her lips. “Keep it pg guys.” Colson said from the other line, making them chuckle.

#corpse husband imagine #corpse #corpse husband fanfic #corpse x reader #corpse imagine #corpse fic #corpse x you #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband

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stxleslyds · 3 years ago

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I follow the #Jason-Todd tag and that panel from Cheer where Jason and Bruce hug popped up on my dashboard because it's recommended to me and I realized that I'm so sick of seeing that panel. I hate it and I hate how people gush over it. Cheer was a crap story and Zdarsky was a crap writer for Jason. That moment from Cheer was cheap and unearned yet it seems a lot people are eating it up. But it made me think, what's your opinion on it? Do you think it's people looking at the panel in isolation and not realizing how cheap it is? Is it accepted because it's canon that satisfies fanon? Is it Jason fans being so starved for good content that they'll accept this even if they know it's not good? Or do you think it's something else?

Oh Anon, you are one brave soul! I stay away from all comic related tags here on tumblr, it is just not a place that gives me joy, you know?

It is funny that you bring up that panel of Jason and Bruce in Urban Legends because just today I was greeted by a post of Jason and Damian “hugging” in that Robin #5 issue, and it is always funny to see it going around without the consequent panel that shows Damian electrocuting Jason.

Like, to me it is obvious that fandom leaches on to every badly written/out of context fluffy “batfam” moment that canon throws our way. Same thing with the Jason and Bruce hug. Because that hug that happened in Urban Legends: Cheer never happened in real life, that hug (it didn’t look like much of a hug to me but okay), happened in the supposed utopia that Jason saw when he was dosed with Cheer (the drug).

That utopia world that Jason saw was completely OOC for Jason, it made zero sense for it to be something that Jason would ever want, please fanon and DC, stop making Chonky boring by encapsulating him in the “he wants his fam to love him”, what appears in that made up world couldn’t be further from what Jason has ever wanted from Bruce, and it pisses me off that people are so willing to dismiss Jason’s true characterization over him being Bruce’s “beloved son” and they love each other so so much. Give me a break fanon, Bruce is a horrible person to all of his kids and Jason would actually be better off if Bruce stopped existing.

(Maybe I got a bit too mad there, but I can’t say that I am sorry about it)

So, that hug was actually non-existent, and the only real contact between Jason and Bruce was a forced handshake at the end of the issue, after Jason had told Bruce that he was going to stop using the guns but not for Bruce or his rules. So, fandom LOVES to take every piece of badly written content and cling to it as if makes sense or validates the “Jason sees Bruce as family and is finally going back to where he belongs”.

Now, you may be aware of this Anon, but I absolutely despise the concept of “Batfamily” and the idea of Jason being in good terms with Bruce after all he has done to Jason. I hate it and there is no way around it. And much like you I strongly believe that the Cheer story was crap and that Zdarsky was a crap writer for Jason.

In my review of the last part of that story, I believe I said that to me it looked like Zdarsky wanted to write a Batman story and DC only offered him a Red Hood story with Batman as an annoying side character. I don’t think for a second that Zdarsky knew who Jason Todd was before he became Robin, while he was Robin or why he became the Red Hood. He is an excellent writer, yes. But he wasn’t a good choice to write a RED HOOD story because it never really looked like he cared about that character, he only seemed to care about writing about Jason’s relationship with Bruce because Batman is the one that matters.

Obviously, I don’t blame Zdarsky solely for that horrendous “Red Hood” story, I actually blame DC and their need to make Jason Todd/Red Hood a bland and pathetic character. Their NEED to make Jason “fit” in their Batfamily bullshit has made them write the most nonsensical things, and have made the complex and strong character of Red Hood into another Batman lackey. And no, this is not me saying that other Batman-related characters are bland or anything, I am saying that Jason being a Batman-related character doesn’t work, it destroys his character and erases his unique feeling in the Gotham-vigilante world.

We don’t need another vigilante that doesn’t kill because of Batman’s stupid rule, we need variety, WE NEED RED HOOD TO BRING DUALITY BACK TO GOTHAM CITY!

Alright, that was a little rant that was not asked for, sorry about that.

So, let me answer your questions in a clear way because this is a mess.

“Do you think it's people looking at the panel in isolation and not realizing how cheap it is?”

I think that there are many people who are just getting into comics or who haven’t read comics in a long time that might see that and be like, “oh wow it seems like Jason and Bruce have a good relationship now”. Or maybe there are people within fandom that don’t like Jason or just don’t care for him and see that panel of them and they go “seems like the black sheep of the family has decided to play by the rules”.

Both of those ideas as a UtRH Jason stan and just a Jason Todd/Red Hood stan (Jason Nation!), kinda make my blood boil, because as you say, those people don’t really see how much that characterization or out of context panel, hurts Jason’s already messy characterization. And I don’t want Jason to be like Batman or for him to be “the black sheep of the family”. I want him to be interesting and complex and I want him to stay far away from Batman’s drama while he still works in Gotham City.

With this I am not trying to say that people who don’t read comics or are just in fandom for the fanon narrative are wrong or don’t have a place here. I am not a gatekeeper or anything, but I would like it if people were more willing to see that fanon and canon are not the same thing and that the fanon ideas and narratives don’t fit in canon, and they actually just mess up characterizations.

What’s fanon is great and should exist within the fandom, but when fanon leaks into canon I would actually love it if people started realizing that while it might be cute or adorable, it doesn’t fit the canon narrative and it actually serves the purpose of hiding Bruce’s abusive and manipulative actions towards his kids, that keep on being hidden and not treated as what they are, abuse.

“Is it accepted because it's canon that satisfies fanon?”

Absolutely, it helps the fanon narrative. But only if you take those panels without context, and spread them like a wildfire (which is what fandom does). If fandom ever gave context or remembered issues like Batman and Robin vol.2 #20, Nightwing vol.3 #30, Teen Titans vol.5 Annual #1, then those soft and whatever moments wouldn’t be taken as fact, or at least that’s what I like to believe.

“Is it Jason fans being so starved for good content that they'll accept this even if they know it's not good?”

I am starved for good Jason content, I have been for a long time. And that need for content makes me want good quality content, I understand that is not the case for everyone but come on, I pay for these comics, I would like to have some good writing in exchange.

I know that the version of Jason that I love will never come back but I am still hoping for a writer to tidy up the Jason that we have now. Maybe that writer will be Rosenberg, I lived what I read in that side story in Detective comics and I really want us to get a win. Jason’s character deserves it and so does Jason Nation.

“Or do you think it's something else?”

All of the above my dear Anon.

Don’t lose hope though, I might be biased but I do really think that Rosenberg will bring some very good writing Jason’s way! Fanon is fun and all, and if you interact with that content make sure to go with an open mind, or be like me and avoid it at all costs!

I hope you have a relaxing and chill weekend Anon! Thank you for sending me this ask!

#jason todd #red hood #bruce wayne #batman #urban legends #urban legends cheer #fanon vs canon #batfamily #batfam #jason nation

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emsylcatac · 4 years ago

Text

What the future holds, we'll never know

Summary

Marinette didn't know what the future was made of—but the glimpse of the one featuring her akumatised partner she had seen taught her one thing: she and Chat Noir should never be together.

Which currently wasn't really a problem considering that she was in love with Adrien, and that they had been getting closer lately.

Read it on AO3

Hiiii @ladynoirist Lisa gemini bro ♥♥♥ I was soooo happy to be your totally secret (yes pretend you never guessed it was me okay I was so subtle) santaaaa for the @mlsecretsanta !!! (also pretend we're totally in December and not in May ho ho ho! Reindeers are still roaming!)

I'm so sorry for how late I am, but I hope you'll enjoy this fic 😄

───※ ·❆· ※───

21st of January, 1h after the reveal

Marinette stood in front of the bistro door, pacing. Pretending to look at the menu, pretending to think of what to choose, pretending that everything was absolutely normal and fine and this was just a perfectly normal day.

It was, however, not normal nor fine inside her head.

She had to push that door. She was already a good half an hour late and it wouldn’t do good to make her friends wait longer—excuses were harder and harder to explain the more she shied away.

Please, don’t be here. She never thought she would hope for that. Please have your bodyguard bring you home. Your father forcing you to go home.

Please, go home by yourself and find some stupid excuse.

She would feel bad for having all these unfair hopes if she hadn't been feeling completely panicked inside.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Gulping, she chanced a glance at it.

Alya girl where are u?? we’re waiting to order!

Well. She couldn’t delay for much longer. Taking a deep breath, Marinette pushed the door open and scanned the room.

Please, please don’t be inside.

She wasn’t being fair, she knew that—it wasn’t his fault if she didn’t feel like facing him.

“Marinette!”

She turned in the direction of her name where Alya was waving at her, hand held up high, while Nino was grinning and—he was there.

Swallowing—though her mouth had been dry for a while now—Marinette headed towards them despite her legs screaming at her to turn around and run as fast as possible away from here.

“H-hey,” she stuttered, “sorry for...for being late.”

She sat next to Adrien (because of course she had to be seated next to him). Their eyes met for a split second and he gave her a timid smile that she couldn’t return.

“It’s fine,” Alya waved off, “the most important thing is that you’re here now! But quick, choose what you want to eat, I’m staaarving!”

She, for one, clearly wasn’t.

Adrien was giving her quick glances and she tried her best to ignore him.

It was him, it was him, it was him.

And it was oh so unfair. She picked up her menu to hide her face as tears threatened to escape the corners of her eyes.

───※ ·❆· ※───

5th of October, 108 days before the reveal

“Try that.”

Marinette turned around, abandoning the search for her size amongst the many red skirts on the clothes rail.

Adrien was holding a tacky glittery dress, reflecting the light of a multitude of disharmonious colours, supporting two red fabric-flowers on each shoulder straps. It was positively horrendous, the kind of clothes you wonder who would ever buy when passing in front of it in the store.

She looked up to Adrien’s innocent smile and had to bite down the disgusted expression she suspected she must have shown for a split second. She hoped he hadn’t noticed—the last thing she wanted was to offend him. Growing-up in the fashion industry didn’t make him a good judge in the field, it seemed.

“I… You want me to...to try that on?” she stammered.

He gave her a nod, humming enthusiastically.

Maybe it was the kind of dress Adrien saw on girls at fashion shows, and she just hadn't seen it before. Maybe he liked it on them.

Maybe he would find her pretty in it.

Against her better judgement (because her judgement was always lost when it came to him, wasn’t it?), Marinette stretched a hand towards the piece of clothing, gulping. She raised her eyes to his, offering a tight smile.

Adrien’s mouth twitched, and his eyes held a new mischievous glint that hadn’t been there a few seconds ago.

“You...you’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?” she said, deflating.

He burst out laughing, a genuine, happy laugh that reminded her of a certain day in the rain, and she couldn’t help but smile despite herself.

“You should have seen your face!”

He hadn't made fun of her in a while—in fact, he hadn’t laughed at her since that day, in the rain. The thought of him being comfortable enough with her to allow himself to do it again made her cheeks heat up.

“I could...I could call your bodyguard or...or your dad! Yes! I could call your dad and out you, you know!” she threatened, fighting back the nerves that always messed up her words when she spoke to him.

She wouldn’t mess up today.

It stopped Adrien momentarily and suddenly he was pleading her, begging with joined hands.

“Marinette,” he said, and he did sound serious—she would have been convinced had his eyes not looked a tad too much like a kicked puppy’s, “please, you can’t do that. Please please please please, I’m sorry for ruining your shopping day and running into you and insisting to tag along and—”

Marinette giggled. “I’ll wear it,” she said, snatching the terrible (terrible!!) dress from his hands, careful to not brush his fingers and make it awkward. “Because unlike you who’s trying to hide, I’m no coward.”

Adrien straightened up. “I’m no coward either!”

She could feel her heart beating erratically in her chest. She wasn’t nervous. She wasn’t gonna be nervous when talking to Adrien. Not again. Not this time. She could banter with him—this was known territory. Not with him though, never with him, but…

“Okay,” she crossed her arms. Her eyes scanned the different clothing items before landing on a pink plastic fur dress on a mannequin. “Prove it.”

He choked on a laugh before grinning at her. “Oh, you’re so on.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

16th of November, 66 days before the reveal

Adrien opened his diary, ready to write down the homework of the day Mrs Bustier was dictating.

The sound of ruffling papers and rummaging in bags filled the classroom, but he tried to focus on one sound in particular, resisting the urge to smile.

Any moment now.

Just a little longer before—

A loud groan resonated from behind him, and this time he let the grin slip onto his face, thankful that she couldn’t see it.

“What’s wrong?” Alya’s whisper made its way to his ears.

“Someone drew me with a towel on the head, swimming glasses and an ugly party dress!”

Adrien couldn’t help the snort that escaped him.

Teasing Marinette, he found, was very entertaining. He didn’t know exactly when he started to feel comfortable enough to do it. Didn’t know what exactly it was that was making it deliciously familiar yet all so new—and above all, warm.

Her reaction had been worth the wait. He silently delighted in the way she battled between raging against him and finding him hilarious (because with the way she giggled, or stammered, or even bit her lips the few times he had joked with her, before getting ahold of herself and teasing back, she had to find him hilarious, right?).

He guessed he deserved the ruler slap he received on the head.

Yes, Adrien liked her reactions, he thought while rubbing his head. He liked that new, teasing dynamic he’d been having with her for a couple of weeks now. He liked it.

But above all, he loved—

Adrien let a soft fond smile pull at his lips when he opened his diary that evening, once seated at his desk. A drawing quickly scribbled in the margin lit up by his many computer screens welcomed him of what he assumed was a new Gabriel ad featuring him in an atrocious fur dress coloured in fluro pink highlighter.

Above all, he loved her witty and sneaky comebacks.

───※ ·❆· ※───

8th of December, 44 days before the reveal

“What are you thinking about?”

Ladybug saw a smile stretch across her partner’s lips. He let out a fond chuckle, throwing his head up towards the sky. His eyes were closed, but she could tell that he was seeing more stars that way than if they had been opened looking up at the Parisian sky. She envied him a little.

“I’m thinking,” he simply said.

And didn’t say anything after that.

She waited a little, just in case, but he remained silent. His feet dangled above the edge of the roof and he started gently swinging his legs one after the other. He let out a breathless giggle, as if he couldn’t control it, and hummed a song her ears caught only because of the wind blowing towards her.

Her heart did a somersault in her chest at the sight. She felt a weird mix of emotions, not unpleasant but not entirely enjoyable either, bittersweetness and happiness mingling together.

He did look happy—but tonight it felt like she wasn’t a part of it. That he was in his own bubble of joy, a bubble she once had complete control over but, in that instant, was slipping through her fingers. If she was being honest, it had been slowly and subtly escaping her for a while now.

He was in love, she realised. Her gaze on him softened, before she turned away from him to look towards the sky, too, and exhaled a puff of hot air that dissipated in the cold and continued to grow as she joined him in his humming, closing her eyes.

If she wasn’t the one he was shining for tonight, she would still share that moment of exhilaration with him.

Besides, she had reasons to feel giddy herself too.

───※ ·❆· ※───

29th of December, 23 days before the reveal

“Hey.” Plagg’s voice wasn’t loud enough to pull Adrien out of his reverie completely, but enough to bring the cloud he was on a little bit back down to Earth. “You’ve been staring at the ceiling for the past twenty minutes now. What’s up?”

Adrien let the thread of his lucky charm pass through his fingers, feeling the beads between them rolling from one to another. “I have?”

Plagg stayed silent for a few seconds. “Yes. Are you alright?”

Adrien chuckled. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.” I have been for a little while now, he didn’t say.

Suddenly, he got up, walked towards his computer, picked up his phone from his desk and opened Instagram. His fingers quickly found Marinette’s name and pressed her icon to see her latest story. He smiled as a selfie of her and Alya appeared, and played it again once it was over.

“Ah. I see.” Adrien hadn’t noticed Plagg flying above his shoulder but he couldn’t care less. “You like her?”

“I love her,” he simply corrected.

“Really?! Planning on asking her out? Sweeping her off her feet?”

Adrien shook his head, chuckling. He put his phone back on his desk and let himself fall further in his seat, pushing his feet against the desk leg to propel himself back.

Marinette, Marinette, Marinette.

“We’ll see,” he stretched his arms above his head. “We’ll see what happens and when I feel that the time is right. I don’t want to mess it up. Not this time.”

Not with her.

───※ ·❆· ※───

11th of January, 10 days before the reveal

When she found Adrien waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs that morning, blushing, a hand rubbing the back of his neck, the other holding a yellow rose with red tips on the petals and stammering a simple yet powerful “I think I love you”, Marinette was glad she had been on time for school for once.

───※ ·❆· ※───

21st of January, 1h before the reveal

“I can’t believe you made me wake up at eight o’clock on a Saturday morning,” Marinette shook her head.

Adrien laughed and held her hand tighter as he pulled her along with him, striding alongside the Seine. “But you have to admit that it was worth it.”

Spending time with you is worth the world, she thought. I could wake up at five if that’s what you wanted. She didn’t say any of that out loud. They had only barely started dating, after all. It could scare him off.

Instead, she let half a smile pull at her lips. “I suppose.”

Adrien stopped in his tracks and turned to her. “It was worth it! It just snowed during the night—for once! It’s so rare, we have to enjoy it! And the sunrise was beautiful!”

She crossed her arms, pretending to think about it and evaluate her morning.

“It was,” Adrien insisted, pleaded for her to agree.

“Fine,” she conceded, giggling. “It was beautiful. I’m glad you forced me out of bed.”

She was rewarded by a brilliant smile, that melted her heart despite the cold January air on her cheeks, and a kiss on her forehead (that melted her whole).

A giddy laugh escaped her and she couldn’t help but kiss his nose, making him giggle, the sound sweeter than the glockenspiel a busker was playing a few meters away.

Adrien’s cheeks were red when she pulled away—from the cold or from her kiss, she didn’t know, but she hoped for the latter. She decided to grab his winter hat, leaving his hair all messy on top and wide eyes of outraged shock on his face. Adrien, she had realised, really liked when she was messing with him and she berated herself for never having dared to do such a thing before.

In retaliation, he grabbed her own hat and put it on his head. “Jokes on you,” he said, “now I have a pink pompom while you have a lame black one!”

She laughed as she put his hat on her own head. He likes me, she chanted in her head. He loves me even. He loves me, he loves me, and I love him. All was well that day. All was perfect.

“When are we meeting up with Alya and Nino for lunch, again?”

“I think we still have an hour,” Adrien replied.

It felt like nothing could disrupt their date, their day, them, really.

───※ ·❆· ※───

21st of January, the reveal

Accidents were stupid, most of the time. One second of miscalculation, one careless mistake and every neatly protected secret could be disrupted forever.

Detransforming in the same alleway was probably the stupidest, lamest and most careless way to reveal their identities, Marinette and Adrien thought, as they faced each other with wide eyes and heart beating too fast in their rib cages with their kwamis hanging incriminatingly at their side.

Marinette didn’t think. She ran.

───※ ·❆· ※───

21st of January, 1h30 after the reveal

To say the atmosphere was awkward was an understatement. They were barely glancing at each other, passing each other the salt without brushing a finger or looking where they handed it.

Marinette overfilled Adrien’s glass when pouring him some water; Adrien startled when Marinette’s hand accidentally brushed his arm while trying to clean his table up.

They were a mess.

In a way, Marinette was glad that Alya and Nino were here to provide distraction.

She just hoped they wouldn’t notice the tension between her and Adrien.

“So, how have you two lovebirds been doing? Still in the chummy-chummy phase?”

So much for that. There was an awkward silence, none of them knowing what to really say.

“Sure,” she decided to take the plunge and ate a mouthful of fries so she wouldn’t have to explain further.

Alya and Nino said nothing, looking between the two of them.

“We’ve been, uh…we went walking around the Seine this morning,” Adrien mumbled. “To see the snow and, uh…”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Marinette cut. She couldn’t believe she was managing to talk to him. “Y-your...your winter hat.”

She handed it to him and Adrien looked at it for a few seconds before taking it back, his face crumbling and disheartened.

“...Thanks. Um, here is yours, I suppose.”

Marinette closed her eyes tight as she snatched her hat from his hands, feeling nauseous all of a sudden.

Where did they stand, now? They had barely even started dating. Could they brush off the massive new developments that were their identities? Could superheroes even date?

White flashed before her eyes. Her heart did a somersault, and the nausea intensified, making her head spin.

Stupid. Idiot, superheroes couldn’t date, least of all her and Adrien.

It was unfair that she was having these thoughts now, when she still didn’t know what was going on in her head—Adrien, Chat Noir, her partner. The same… so similar yet so different.

He had given her a rose when he had confessed. It was such a Chat Noir thing to do...she should have known.

They were the same person and it was awkward and she needed time she didn’t get the luxury to have. The second she thought she had acknowledged this information, it would all come back the next with the panic accompanying it.

The silence following must have been long and heavy because Alya took in a sharp breath. “Okay. What’s going on between you two? You’ve been acting awkward since we’ve got here.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

23rd of January, 2 days after the reveal

“So, this is it?”

Adrien felt the knot in his throat tighten a little more and more as Marinette kept looking to the side, silent, avoiding his gaze. He didn’t know why he asked; he knew the answer. And he knew that hearing it would cut like a knife, but maybe that’s what he needed instead of foolishly pretending there was hope.

“This...this is it,” she finally said in a breath.

He swallowed. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she repeated.

“I… okay.” Okay. Because what could he say? It wasn’t like he could decide for her.

If it was only on him, of course he wouldn’t want anything to end. Of course he would fight for them, and try and see where they’d go, identities be damned because...well, it was still them, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?

“I’m sorry. I...I really am. It’s just… It’s…” Marinette sighed. “It’s just that it’s a lot to take in, you know?”

She had finally raised her eyes to his, and Adrien had to fight back tears; maybe it would have been better if she had continued to avoid him.

So he was the one to turn his eyes away this time.

“I guess,” he couldn’t help the bitterness in his voice to show through. “I just...I didn’t know it would be so bad.”

“It’s not! It’s not that! It’s just that… we still...we still need to get used to this,” she gestured between them, “and… superheroes ca—”

“—can’t date, I know. I understand. I mean—not completely, but... I get it.”

And he did; really, he did get it.

It was selfish of him, probably, to not want things to stop. He found that it was also maybe a little selfish of her to want them to.

None of them had decided to be heroes—and yet they had to bear the consequences of such a responsibility.

Looking back at her, she had now dropped down her eyes and wasn’t watching him anymore. A strong gust of wind blew on the balcony, making Marinette’s hair wave with it.

“It’s getting late,” Adrien spoke. “And you’re freezing out here. I should get going. We’ll see each other tomorrow at school.”

He extended his baton.

“Adri—Chat Noir! Wait!”

She grabbed his tail, stopping him in his tracks. He turned around. She was fidgeting, and looked tentatively into his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I hope it’s not...I hope it’s not too hard but…”

He sighed. “I’m not gonna lie and pretend it doesn’t hurt. It...it does. A lot. It’s like…” he sighed. “It’s like we had everything, and then…” He paused. “But I guess… none of us can control the way we feel, right?”

She nodded numbly. He attempted to give a smile, but he knew he wasn’t doing a good job at it.

“I just wished I knew what’s wrong with me, “ he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

“I… it’s not… I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you,” Marinette tried. He could hear her voice trembling. I don’t think there’s anything right with me either, he didn’t say—and she didn’t say either, he noted with a bitter smile. “We’re just a mess right now.”

She bit her lip and he had to force to keep his eyes on hers. He felt terrible. Worse than all those times she had rejected him, because—well, because now he knew just how much he was losing.

“That we are.”

“We’re still...we’re still friends, right?” she asked after a few seconds of awkward silence.

“It’s you and me against the world, so… of course.” He shrugged.

And with that, he left, finally letting the tears blur his vision on his way home.

Tonight, their old promise sounded more bitter than comforting. Them against the world, the heroes fighting for the city, forced together by their duty and pulled apart at the same time.

───※ ·❆· ※───

23rd of January, 2 days after the reveal

Marinette rushed back inside her bedroom as soon as Adrien had left and threw her head in her pillow, crying her heart out. Screaming to Tikki how unfair it was to have to be responsible, at Master Fu for choosing this life for her, at herself for following it, at Adrien and Chat Noir for being the same people.

Shouting at Adrien again, at another Adrien she hadn’t even really known that it was all his fault. His fault, his fault, his fault, all his fault. She knew it was unfair of her—but she needed to put the blame on someone, and Chat Blanc, who didn’t exist anymore, seemed like a good candidate, no matter how wrong she knew it was.

───※ ·❆· ※───

24th of January, 3 days after the reveal

“...My father wanted us to break up.”

Marinette shrunk on herself. She wished she had been able to come up with a better excuse on the spot. Anything that would have avoided Adrien’s cold and numb tone when he repeated her flimsily excuse.

But nothing sounded plausible enough; nothing else could explain this sudden change in their dynamic.

“It...it was a surprise, really, we weren’t expecting it,” she tried, hoping he would follow her lead.

Adrien clicked his tongue. “A surprise, indeed.”

“Aaaand you didn’t think of dating in secret becaaause…?” Alya drawled, the cease in her brow increasing the longer she looked between the two of them.

“Because… well… because…” Marinette fumbled, trying to think of a way out because Alya wasn’t wrong and it was a flaw in her carelessly crafted plan.

“Because Marinette didn’t want to,” Adrien supplied curtly.

Alya and Nino’s heads snapped towards her with incredulous looks in their eyes, making her involuntarily shrink on herself even more.

“She said it wasn’t worth a try,” he shrugged and sat down, his back now to her.

Alya looked between the two with a mix of worry, incomprehension and a hint of pity. Marinette didn’t dare look at Nino to see what emotions would flicker in his eyes.

“That’s not it, it’s…” she struggled, took a deep breath, and tried again. She had to roll with what he came up with. “If he were to find out we...we’d be in trouble. You’d be in trouble… and I don’t want that,” she whispered the last words.

“Like I said,” Adrien said coolly, half turning towards them. “Not even worth a try.”

Her heart crumpled.

───※ ·❆· ※───

26th of january, 5 days after the reveal

“Chat Noir, you’re here!” Marinette exclaimed, relieved.

He twirled his baton, deflecting a spurt of gooey green liquid she could only dread to know the composition of—some akumas truly were more disgusting than others to deal with. “As for every akuma.” He raised a brow. “Don’t act so surprised.”

She startled. In the midst of all the action, in the hope and wait for his arrival—because she always felt bolder and stronger once her partner was by her side—she had forgotten.

This was Adrien, her ex-boyfriend with whom she had broken up and had upsetted. And who still wasn’t talking to her much. Thinking about him as ‘ex’ suddenly hurt as she realised it was the first time she was referring to him as such in her head.

Marinette blinked back remorseful tears and tried ignoring the tightness in her chest to focus on the akuma again. She still needed to find where the akumatised object was, and she couldn’t let her emotions get in the way of her job.

She decided to pretend things were fine. “His name is Snowtty, we don’t know the victim but it’s a kid who was made fun of for having a runny nose after receiving a snowball in his face. Try to avoid his green spurts, they would freeze you on the spot!”

Adrien barely nodded before jumping into action, without so much as a word of acknowledgement like he would usually do. It hurt more than she would care to admit.

She knew they hadn’t talked since that evening on her balcony, but she had hoped he just needed time to process and that it wasn’t deeper than that. He had said they were still friends, hadn’t he?

Trying to ignore the sting in her eyes, she jumped after him into the fight.

“Ladybug! I see your pet has arrived to the scene as well,” Snowtty sneered. “All the better for me, I need both your miraculous after all!”

“I’m my own person, thank you very much,” Chat Noir said, none of his usual teasing in his voice. “And you won’t be getting any miraculous. Why don’t you give us your akuma instead and save everyone’s time? You’re just gonna lose like the others do, anyway.”

The akuma let out a growl of frustration and double-fired in their direction. Marinette ran for cover using her yoyo as a deflecting shield, Adrien using his baton.

He didn’t take cover with her.

She called him and was almost relieved when he picked up.

“Okay, he’s angrier than I thought he was. Any idea where the akuma could be?”

“You’re telling me you don’t?” he raised a brow. “He’s throwing his substance from that bracelet he has on his left wrist, and there aren’t any other objects.”

It seemed obvious now. But she wasn’t at the top of her game and was far too focused on her relationship with her partner than she was on the fight at hand, and she realised how detrimental it could be—not letting her personal life interfere with her duties as Ladybug was one of the rules she had promised herself to never break, yet here she was.

“Right,” she said, voice wavering. “I… Right. You’re right. Good job, Kitty.”

She regretted the nickname as soon as it left her mouth.

“‘tis nothing, Ladybug,” he shrugged. “Guess you cast your lucky charm and I distract him as usual.”

“Not yet, I need to first figure ou—” She let out a sigh as he ended the call, and turned to see him heading back straight for the akuma.

Well. The message was clear.

Throwing her yoyo angrily in the air, she called on her lucky charm. And was rewarded for her effort with an umbrella.

She wanted to scream.

She glanced up and closed her eyes, temporarily blinded by the brightness of the sun. “And it’s not even raining,” she grumbled.

She stomped away from her hiding place, only to be thrown on the ground a second after.

“Wha—”

Adrien was hovering over her and spared a glance behind towards Snowtty before standing and helping her up.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

But he ran back towards the akuma without so much as a glance in her direction. The momentary relief she felt when he saved her evaporated right away. She ran after him.

She hated how he could be upset with her in the middle of an akuma fight but still be able to focus on the task at hand. Because he was paying great care to the akuma and his surroundings and was trying to actively find a solution to put an end to the fight—something she had a harder time doing when her personal feelings were getting overwhelming. She couldn’t reproach him for that. It was just incredibly infuriating.

“Adri—Chat Noir, will you please talk to me and stop ignoring me?” Marinette exploded, frustrated. “It’s been two days and now is not the time!”

“Bold words from someone who ran away and avoided me for two days after discovering my identity,” Adrien snapped back, avoiding another blast of green.

Her heart stuttered painfully. He was right, but it made it no less hurtful to hear. She and Chat Noir had argued in the past, and while it had never been pleasant, it was something they knew how to navigate through — how to come out stronger from. She and Adrien, however? Never. She hadn’t even fathom the possibility of it ever coming up one day. Any comebacks she could have had died on her tongue, and Ladybug found herself speechless.

They both ran for cover once again behind the safety of a rooftop chimney, leaving Snowtty growling at having lost their track.

She swallowed painfully. “Listen. I know you’re hurt, I understand and you have every right to be. But we need to work together right now.”

He kicked some of the remaining snow from the roof, fidgeting with his hands. “I don’t know. I don’t think my father would approve of that.”

She frowned. “Of what?”

“Us working togeth—” he sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Sorry. Forget I said anything, that was rude. Let’s...let’s just get back to the fight. I’ll behave.”

She grabbed his hand before he could vault away. “Wait.”

“Ladybug, I don’t think we have the time to talk or—”

“And I think it’s important that we talk now,” she said, giving him a pleading look. “Please.”

He kept eye contact with her for a few seconds before glancing hesitantly towards the city, nibbling at his lower lip. “Okay,” he finally murmured.

She involuntarily squeezed his hand in relief. He didn’t squeeze back, but he didn’t take it away either.

She hadn’t taken the time to focus on her feelings for him in the midst of her freakout about his identity; the warmth of his hand and the tips of his claws barely grazing hers and enhancing its delicacy made her realise that if anything, they had only gotten stronger.

It was painfully heartwarming.

“Are you...are you still… upset, about us, um… about me… you know…” she gestured between them.

“Breaking up with me?” He shook his head. “No. I’m hurt, yes. But that’s your right. That’s not what I’m angry about.”

“Then what…” she trailed off.

He sighed. “I thought I had made it clear, but I guess not.” He paused and kicked some more snow. “I didn’t like you telling everyone that my father forced us to break up,” he mumbled, and she had to listen carefully to pick up every word.

She blinked. “That’s… it?” She threw her hands in front of her at the glare he sent her. “I mean, don’t get me wrong… I agree it wasn’t my best excuse, but we had to find one that sounded plausible and…”

“That’s the thing, Marinette,” he said. “You decided to use my father as your excuse without asking me first.” He wrapped his arms around himself and looked to the ground. “I know my father isn’t… isn’t the best and that he can be… a little strict, but… He wouldn’t do that.”

There was a beat of silence.

“He wouldn’t do that,” he repeated more quietly.

She didn’t know if he was trying to convince himself or her; but she didn’t know Gabriel Agreste much and thus couldn’t confirm nor refute his words.

He shook his head. “But the thing is… How would you have felt if I had told everyone that...that your parents had forced us to break up?” He lifted his gaze towards her, green eyes piercing through her.

“Oh,” she said, understanding dawning on her. “Oh. I see.”

“Yeah.”

“I hadn;t...I hadn’t thought about that,” Marinette admitted.

“Well.”He sniffed, angrily wiping at his eyes. “You should have.”

She hadn’t noticed that he was on the verge of crying, but she instantly felt shame coursing through her.

He kicked the snow harder. “And the worst part is… the worst part is that… it workedI he almost spat. “They...they believed your excuse. They didn’t even doubt it, they just….” He gestured with his hands .“...Bought it as if it was obvious and that...that hurt.”

She stayed quiet for a few seconds, taking it in. She didn’t want to start the conversation now as to why it had been that easy for their friends to believe his father would do such a thing—it was something that they would have to discuss another day. A day on which he’d be more ready.

“I’m sorry,” she finally whispered. “I panicked because I...I realised I hadn’t thought of a reason for our breakup. My mind was busy with something else.” She chuckled dryly with a hand gesture in the air. “But you’re right, I crossed a line and that’s not an excuse. I probably would have killed you if you had told them my parents were the reason for our breakup.”

A timid smile appeared on his lips. “Good thing it was just me, then.”

She giggled tearily. “Yeah, good thing. But still. I hope you can forgive me. I promise I’ll be more careful.”

He sighed. “You know I can’t stay mad at you for very long, Marinette. Thank you. And I apologise too. I… I probably overreacted. And I should have known better than to snap during a fight.”

She smiled. “It’s okay. But maybe now, don’t wait until there’s an akuma to talk to me. Now that we know each other’s identities, you don’t need to.”

“I think I needed time to… digest that. But you’re right, will do.”

They looked at each other, smiling shyly as an awkward silence settled between them.

“So, Ladybug,” Adrien spoke with a wobbly smile, glancing towards the lucky charm in her hands, “shall we go back to the fight so you can play Mary Poppins?”

It still wasn’t a ‘my Lady’ or a ‘Buguinette’, and there was no wink to accompany his teasing, but he was back to joking. She would take it.

“Of course.” She smiled. “But let me recharge first.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

15th of February, 25 days after the reveal

“Psssst, come here, kitty kitty! I just want to be your frien—”

Marinette groaned as the ginger cat ran away, joining a tabby cat further up the alleway.

A chuckle from behind her startled her. “Looks like you’re having cat troubles.”

She turned around to meet her partner’s cat-like eyes, and yes, she was having cat troubles, indeed.

“They don’t like me,” she just said.

Adrien seemed to search her eyes for a second or two, his expression unreadable. “You know that’s not true.”

She didn’t know if the conversation was about the cats in the street anymore, and she wasn’t sure whose fault it was. But soon after, Adrien shook his head, blond hair softly sweeping against his cheeks, and let a smile pull at his lips.

He crouched down, grabbed his belt tail and slowly moved it around.

“You need to let them come to you.”

Marinette watched the tail slither, half hypnotised by the movement, until she heard the soft tapping of his claws on the ground. His fingers drummed in a steady rhythm, and she couldn’t help but marvel at how delicate the motion was.

It seemed that some cats around agreed because, soon enough, one advanced towards him, while another had laid down and began wiggling his butt and tail, ready to pounce.

She looked back at Adrien and he was smiling widely at them, anticipating their every move and excited to see their reactions. He looked so happy, so carefree and her heart did a somersault at the sight — she knew that she shouldn’t think like this, but she wished she had been the one he was looking at. She wished she could be one of these kittens, ready to tackle him to the ground, so they could fall in a heap of laughter together. So they could suddenly stop, and gaze into each other’s eyes, getting lost in each other, and maybe, just maybe, lean a little bit closer and ki—

“Wow.” Adrien’s loud laughter shook her out of her reverie. “No need to bite me, little one!”

While a small grey cat had attacked his tail and was nibbling at it, rolling on the floor, another one was more focused on his hand.

The white one with blue eyes.

“Careful,” she told him, “that one’s nasty.”

Adrien continued to play with the cat, moving a finger around and hovering it above his nose that the kitten tried to take a mouthful of.

“What? Why do you say that?”

“Well, he bit you. And earlier, he scratched me. Good thing my suit could protect me or my arms would have been covered in blood,” she informed.

Adrien smiled. “That doesn’t make him nasty.”

She spluttered. “Wha—? How—of course it does! He’s a mean cat, trust me on this! All white cats with blue eyes are!”

He chuckled, giving him a fond look the kitten didn’t deserve. “Good thing I’m a black cat, then.”

She shuddered.

“And he’s not mean,” he went on, “he’s broken.”

Marinette frowned. “What do you mean, ‘broken’?”

Somehow, Adrien had managed to pet the cat on the head, making him let out a contented meow. “Cats who have been abandoned or rejected by their mother too young tend to be more aggressive,” he explained, a pained smile she wasn’t quite sure how to interpret. “They scratch and bite a lot because in a way, they’re kind of lost.”

He took him in his arms and kissed his nose, to which the cat answered with a small ‘meow’. Staying close to his face, he scratched under his chin that the cat was exposing happily to him as a sign of complete trust. Adrien’s smile melted when a purr rumbled out of the kitten, and Marinette hung on it with both fascination and envy.

He let out a breathy chuckle. “See? He just needs someone to show him they care.”

“Show him they care,” she repeated dumbly. She could do that. She coul— “What if...what if it still doesn’t change anything?”

Adrien’s gaze left the kitten to turn to her. “What do you mean?”

“What if...What if even if someone cares about him, and cares about him so much they would sacrifice their own happiness for him if it came to it, and shows him everyday and tells him everyday but he still…” She stopped, fumbling with her words for a second. “...He still keeps biting and scratching and feeling lost and alone a-and no one can save him?” She lifted her eyes to his, only to find her vision blurry.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you talking about?” Adrien breathed.

“M-maybe, this cat is doomed from the start. Maybe he’ll be like that forever, no matter what and maybe they’ll all be like that and—”

“My Lady,” a hand landed on her shoulder, stopping her from spiralling further—and here it was, the ‘my Lady ‘she’d been craving for so much, at the most unexpected time. “That’s stupid. I’m not sure if it’s about cats anymore,” he chuckled, “but I’ll pretend it is.”

She blinked back tears. He kept on, “Yes, some of these hurt cats never change. But not all of them! You can never really know what will happen, how they’ll evolve, because they’re all different, and they’ll all live different lives.”

He smiled at her, his delicate hand never leaving her shoulder, while the other continued petting the purring white kitten. “We can’t guess what will happen to them. All we can do is try, and take the risk. And maybe the owners of this lovely kitty will be lucky and have a loving ball of fur”— he bopped the cat’s nose who in turn let out a small ‘meow’— “or they’ll be less lucky and have a little monster that—ouch,” he said, as the cat chased his bopping finger to bite it, “bite them from time to time but still would be worth caring for.” He sighed a chuckle.

Marinette swallowed, taking it in. “So you mean that… the future of this cat isn’t… set in stone?” she asked carefully.

“Of course not! No one can know what he’ll grow into now, it will depend on a lot of factors.” He took his hand off her shoulder to lift the cat off his lap and nuzzle his nose with his. “Isn’t that right, little one? You’ll be a good kitty, won’t you?”

She let a smile pull at her lips at the sight. Adrien turned to face her with a big goofy grin on his face.

“If our future was written in our DNA, we’d have known all about our futures a long time ago,” he chuckled.

She let his words sink in, closing her eyes. What if...what if.

What if their love wouldn’t destroy the world, this time.

But what if it did again.

...But what if it didn’t?

She heaved a sigh, releasing some of the tension that had been weighing down on her. When she opened her eyes, it was to see that Adrien was back to playing with the kitten.

“And what are we gonna call you, hm? Ooooh, I know! See, I’m Chat Noir, so that would make you Chat Bla—”

“—FLOCON!” Marinette interrupted him.

He blinked at her. “Chat Flocon?”

“No, just...just Flocon. He’s white as snow, and fluffy like a snowflake, so it makes sense. And,” she added after a beat, “it’s cute.”

And it reminded her of that date they shared, just before revealing their identities, strolling through a snowy Paris. It was a memory she cherished, even if it didn’t end quite well.

Adrien grinned. “Okay. Flocon it is.” He scratched the cat’s chin, who purred in turn and tried to bite his finger again. “No,” he told him, “I said no biting, you thickhead.”

She could watch him bicker with a kitten for hours, she thought.

“Hey, Buguinette,” he called out to her, pulling her out of her momentary reverie, “you wanna hold Flocon?”

She blinked. “Errr… I don’t know if that's a good idea or…”

He laughed. “He’s not that aggressive. It’s up to you; but if you want to try befriending him again…” He held a half-wiggling and meowing Flocon in the air towards her.

Marinette bit her lip, and took a deep breath. Maybe it was a bad idea to cave, but... “Okay,” she finally said. “I’ll give him a try.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

26th of April, 95 days after the reveal

“Adrien, aren’t you gonna snap her in half?” Alya asked with incredulous eyes.

It made both him and Marinette giggle. “It’s like she doesn’t know that you’re usually the one snapping me in half between the two of us,” Adrien whispered in her ear, which made her laugh harder. “She said she wanted to!” he told Alya louder.

“Yes, Alya,” Marinette added, “I’m a strong girl and I can carry him! Right, Adrien?”

“Right!” he replied enthusiastically, clinging harder on her back.

He wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but he was too busy feeling lighthearted and free on this spring afternoon. It was the first warm day of the year, with only a slightly chilly breeze coming to ruffle his hair at times that only contributed in increasing his giddiness. For the fifth time this day, he thanked the star that made his father allow him to go out to the temporary funfair with his friends—though he thought they were studiously working on a school project.

“It’s not because you can carry him that you should,” Nino said, shaking his head fondly.

“You’re just jealous because Alya isn’t carrying you.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “Let’s ride to the moon and back!”

“To the moon and back!” Adrien repeated, one hand raised in the air.

Marinette let out a warrior cry before attempting to run, albeit slowly because of his weight, and he could tell they wouldn’t go far as he already felt himself slide down and her grip on his legs slacken.

He should have known they’d fall face first before she got too exhausted. If he had, maybe he’d have had the time to react and avoid it.

As it was, he just found himself on top of Marinette on the ground. He lifted himself up and sat down, Marinette soon doing the same.

Distantly, he heard Alya and Nino running towards them shouting “are you okay”s and “are you hurt”s at profusion, but he didn’t pay them any mind as Marinette looked up at him with eyes glinting with mirth and they both fell in a heap of laughters.

Some passersby looked at them funnily while others whispered some “that must hurt”s or “everything alright?”s to them.

“It’s okay,” Adrien told them. “We’ve had it worse!”

“Yes,” Marinette chimed in. “One time we were thrown by an akuma—”

“—A big tuna," he quickly corrected.

“—a big tuna, he’s right,” she repeated, “and we both fell right into a moving bus, and we survived!”

“And you find that funny,” Nino deadpanned, putting his hands on his hips as Adrien helped Marinette up.

Adrien just grinned at him. “Yup! We’re the survivors.”

“And we’re gonna make it!” Marinette sang.

“You’re insufferable,” Alya chuckled. “The both of you. I don’t know how you two can be more unhinged than me with Marinette, but—”

“—That’s because we’re exes besties,” Adrien chirped. Despite the months that had passed, it always hurt a little to call each other “exes”. But he had long since learned that laughing at his suffering was better than crying over it. He just wondered when and if he’ll ever be over her one day. He probably never really would.

“Hey,” Nino said indignantly. “But you’re my best friend!”

“Maybe, but are you also exes, hm?” Marinette asked him. “Because we are, and it makes us the unstoppable exes besties! And now, our next stop will be…” She jumped on Adrien’s back without warning and he caught her with a ‘oof’. “...to that splashing boat attraction over there!”

“Dudes, you already fell once, what are you doing?”

“We’re getting back up, Nino, and we try again,” she announced proudly, raising her fist up. “Let’s go to the boat, Adrien, and may our ship sail! Go, go, go!”

Adrien faintly heard a ‘they’re beyond help’ from Alya as he ran towards the attraction, both his and Marinette’s laughters echoing in the wind.

───※ ·❆· ※───

28th of May, 127 days after the reveal

Adrien landed with a grunt on the pavement. The suit was a good protector, but it didn’t stop his back from hurting from the impact with the ground. This akuma — Firebender as he called himself — truly was more violent than usual.

“Wow,” he managed to breath between two gasps, “you’re on fire today!”

He tried to push himself up with an arm, and raised his head towards Firebender with a half-closed eye. The fireball he saw coming towards him arrived so fast that he didn’t even have the time to do so much as widening his eyes. An anguish cry was the last thing he heard before it faded and he saw nothing at all.

───※ ·❆· ※───

28th of May, 127 days after the reveal

Marinette realised she was screaming when she felt her lungs were empty.

Usually, when an akuma took lives, the victims just disappeared into thin air, as if they had never been. They weren’t lying there, unmoving on the pavement like Adrien was. Somehow, seeing was worse than not.

She felt dizzy, as if everything around her was moving in slow motion. She staggered, trying to turn her head away from the sight of her unresponsive partner who was becoming blurrier and blurrier the longer she looked at him. She needed to breathe, she needed to—

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,” she screeched instead, the sound reverberating into the street, bouncing from building to building.

She took a ragged breath, and another, closing her eyes as she took in the dead silence that greeted her scream.

She swallowed her first sob and squeezed her eyes tight shut, taking yet another heavy breath. She turned towards the akuma before opening her eyes, otherwise she knew she wouldn’t be able to tear her gaze away from Adrien’s dead form. She gritted her teeth as soon as the thought of him being gone entered her mind again.

“You’re a monster,” she spat, low and cold, the last word echoing through the silence and carrying her voice to Firebender’s ears — to Hawkmoth’s.

All these days worrying over the possibility of a devastating future she had seen, all this time doing everything she could to avoid it no matter how little she knew of it, and she hadn’t considered the possibilities she hadn’t been a witness of. All these days flirting with the line between caving and resisting only for her regretful indecision to hit her in the most cruel way.

“Give up, Ladybug,” Hawkmoth spoke through Firebender, “you no longer have your pet. All you have to do is surrender your miracu—”

“And what?” she spat. “Let my partner die? Listen to me, Hawkmoth. I have a chance to save him, and for that I need to defeat you. You think I’m stupid? I’m not giving up on Paris. I’m not giving up on him!”

And I’m not giving up on us, she told herself.

“Lucky charm!” she roared, rage and determination coursing through her veins.

She knew nothing about how Chat Blanc had really happened, she realised, catching the spotted chain falling from above. Nothing about her current future, as she scanned her surroundings for a solution. Nothing but the crushing weight of the present and her fear of the unknown, as she opened her yoyo to retrieve the dragon miraculous and put it around her neck.

“Tikki, Longg, unify!”

As she surrounded herself with water and ran towards Firebender with only one goal in mind, she promised herself to never let the gifts the present gives her slide in favour of hypothetical futuristic tragedies. She was finally done running away and sacrificing her life to her fears.

───※ ·❆· ※───

28th of May, 127 days after the reveal

Light suddenly flooded Adrien’s vision as he took a sharp and deep intake of breath. His lungs were burning with the sudden air filling them up, and he squinted his eyes, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He groggily lifted himself up on his elbows when—

“Chaton!”

—a red blur threw herself at him. He caught her, her hair in his nose and her warm breath and hot tears in his neck.

He let her sob and squeeze him as understanding washed over him. He gently threaded his clawed fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp, noticing absent-mindedly that she was also wearing the dragon miraculous.

She slowly detangled herself from him but stayed close, looking into his eyes through her wet ones and caressing his cheek with her thumb.

“Kitty,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, “my Kitty.”

He didn’t have the time to react before her lips were on his and she took her time to savour him before ever so slowly pulling away. He let her do.

She didn’t stop there. Gently cradling his face in her trembling hands, she kissed his cheek. And his other cheek. And his forehead. His nose. His jaw. Puncturing each of her kisses with whispers of “mon Chaton”, or “Kitty”, or “my love”, to which his heart made a somersault at, before diving for his neck.

Each time he kept on letting her do, keeping her close to him as she sobbed through her kisses and yet another nickname for him.

He could feel her breathing him in; so, with his nose in her hair, he inhaled her scent too. Her hot breath left his neck once again, and she came back for his lips.

This time, he kissed her back, and as soon as his lips moved against hers, she choked on a sobbed whine and pushed her mouth closer to his, if that was even possible

He hadn’t forgotten the taste of her lips on his, even after all these months; but he also knew their kisses had never burnt so intensely, driven by despair, the need to memorise the present and the aroma of being alive.

───※ ·❆· ※───

1st of June, 131 days after the reveal

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

Marinette smiled sadly. “Oh, I don’t know. Hurting you. Putting us through this mess. Not telling you about Chat Blanc. Take your pick.”

She let her arms rest on the railing of the bridge, looking across the Seine. The clouds were getting darker and darker, though a sunray pierced through one of them, lighting up a few buildings on the shore in a powerful atmosphere. Her eyes followed a barge floating further and further away, waiting for the moment it would cross the ray of light.

“You’ve been hurting too,” Adrien said after a few seconds. “You’ve been shouldering it all on your own. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

His hand slid into hers and she welcomed it, intertwining her fingers timidly with his. She glanced at him with a tentative smile and he smiled back, looking at her with soft eyes. She looked back towards the Seine just in time to see the barge slicing through the sunbeam.

“Still. Maybe, if I had told you… if I hadn’t let my fears get the best of me…” She trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

“And maybe,” Adrien spoke when it was clear she wouldn’t add something more, squeezing her hand once, “if you had told me earlier, I would have given up Chat Noir.”

She gasped and turned to him, but he was looking at the Seine with saddened eyes.

“What do you mean?” she breathed.

“I’m not sure I’d have been able to handle hearing that I could destroy the world as an akuma,” he whispered, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb as if to reassure her. “It’s… really hard already, but I feel like it would’ve been worse before.”

He turned his head towards her again and she held his gaze, gripping his hand harder as if to dare him to leave.

“You said it yourself,” he went on, “just like we have no idea about what the future can really hold, we can’t know how things would have played out if we had done things differently. What really matters right now is what you want us to be from now on.”

She searched his expectant eyes for a few seconds before looking back at the Seine. A tourist boat coming towards them had replaced the barge in the sunspot before the window of clouds closed on the light, leaving only a dark atmosphere in its place. The clouds grew darker and a warm gust had picked up, making their hair fly in every direction and their clothes ruffling in a frenzy. Marinette felt her emotions growing with the wind, begging to be said and to explode.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and feeling the wind coursing through her as she gathered her thoughts, and opened them again.

“I love you, Adrien,” she spoke, her declaration followed by a distant rumble in the sky. “I love you so, so much. Discovering that you were Chat Noir, once I took it all in… it was the best thing in the world, but also the worst.”

She faced away from the Seine to face him instead and take both his hands in hers, gripping them as tight as she could to ground herself as she felt a flow of tears coming in.

“It made me fall in love with you so much more it hurt, but I knew I couldn’t be with you or I knew I shouldn’t because…” She paused, taking ragged breaths. “...Because it wouldn’t be responsible. Because we’re superheroes and because I had this warning with Chat Blanc, and as the guardian it’s my role to keep us grounded and to do the right thing.”

A lighting bolt pierced through the sky, accompanied by a loud thunderstrike a few seconds later. Adrien was looking at her with a pain in his eyes that she knew meant he was hurting for her and not him.

“But I don’t want to do the right thing this time,” she murmured, as she felt a first drop of water slide down her cheek. “I’m tired of doing what’s supposedly right. Not when...not when we’re both hurting so much that it feels like it’s more dangerous to stay this way instead of just… giving in.”

At this point, she didn’t know who out of her and Adrien were gripping the other’s hands the tightest. She felt more and more raindrops falling on her face and clothes. She didn’t know if the water in his eyes were because he was tearing up or not.

“So maybe our love destroyed the world, once,” she continued, “but I think there’s enough far more damaging hate in this world; and ever since these akuma attacks started, what saved it is our love — for Paris, for our family and friends… and for each other.”

Adrien’s eyes now held a glint of adoration. His now damped hair was sticking to his face while some strands curled with the water. She supposed hers wasn’t faring much better.

“So to answer your question,” she swallowed a sob, “I want us to be together… if you’ll have me.”

Lightning ripped through the sky accompanied by deafening thunder as Adrien pulled her into a crushing hug. She put her arms around his neck to pull him even closer to her and let the flow of her tears finally mix with the rain on her cheeks.

“Marinette,” he whispered, voice wavering and lips barely touching her ear, “I love you, of course I’ll have you. I’ll always have you.”

The rain fell even harder as they hugged closer and cried, soaking them, yet they couldn’t care less. Their clothes were sticking to their bodies, growing more and more uncomfortable, which was worsened by them being in each other’s arms, but Marinette hadn’t felt so good in a long time.

She suddenly pulled away from the hug and cradled his head between her hands. He took her face in his and they stayed closed, forehead against forehead, breathing each other in. Another rumbled resounded and Marinette’s last resolve snapped with it—she brought her lips to his and kissed him.

He responded in kind, and she drank him in and pressed her mouth closer as she felt him doing the same. She should care about the rain falling and the thunder rumbling, but the battering of the elements were just making her feel freer, finally allowing her to get away from all her self restraints.

She sighed against Adrien’s lips as they kept coming back for more. They kissed their reunion, the relief of finding each other again, at last—unlike when he had come back from the dead earlier, these kisses tasted of the promise of more to come, because they knew they would stay together this time.

───※ ·❆· ※───

21st of January, 1h45 after the reveal

“Okay. What’s going on between you two? You’ve been acting awkward since we’ve got here.”

What was going on. What was going on.

“We’re fine,” the lie rolled out of her tongue easily. “Really.”

Alya raised a brow. “Adrien?”

She saw him smiling from the corner of her eyes. He was a much better actor than her—always had been.

“It’s nothing. It’s… we just… we’re working on it.”

...And much more honest than she was, be it with his feelings or with his heart. Always had been.

“Well,” Nino said, “I hope it’s not too big of a deal and that you’ll get over it soon. You guys are the cutest out there.”

Marinette smiled painfully. She glanced at Adrien who was looking at her with soft eyes that she didn’t deserve considering her reaction, and she felt his warm hand timidly covering hers.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I have hopes we will. We always do.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

21st of January, one year after the reveal

“You’re heavy,” Adrien gasped.

“That’s a rude thing to say to a lady,” Marinette commented from atop him, head resting on the arms she had folded on his chest. “And even more so to your girlfriend.”

He groaned and attempted to lift himself up. Fail. She was grinning at him and he pouted in fake-annoyance. “Not when said girlfriend is purposefully putting all her weight on you! I can’t breath!”

Marinette giggled and pressed herself further on him to which he let out a choked whimper, before pushing away from him after a few seconds, ending his suffocation.

“I could report you for attempting murder, you know,” he threatened with a finger. “‘Ladybug slips into teenage model Adrien Agreste’s room and proceeds to suffocate him’, now that would make the newspapers talk for months.”

She laughed and came back to hover over him. “‘And Adrien asked her to do it again’,” she smirked, and she bent down to peck his lips.

He couldn’t even argue with that.

He discreetly brought his hand close to where his head was lying to grab a pillow. When she pushed herself up and sat next to him, he quickly hit her head with it.

She gasped, betrayed and that sent him into a fit of laughter. She glared at him playfully, grabbed his other pillow, and swatted him way harder than he had.

“You’re dead, Kitty! You hear me?” she said, trying and failing not to laugh. “You’ve just signed your death contract!”

“No, my Lady, please I’m just a defenseless citizen!”

“I’ll knock you out with my yo-yo!” she threatened.

They fought again for a few minutes before stopping, Adrien breathless but Marinette only slightly out of breath due to being transformed.

“I hope your father won’t come in,” Marinette said.

“Don’t worry, if he or Nathalie come, you’ll just say you’re investigating here because, uh...because you suspect me of being Hawkmoth!”

She laughed. “Kitty, that’s such a stupid idea.”

“Why not?” Adrien wiggled his eyebrows. “After all, I do disappear during every akuma attack.”

Marinette smiled and crawled into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck as he steadied her with his hands on her hips. They lost themselves into each other’s eyes, faces close but not close enough to exactly touch.

“Then,” she murmured against his lips, and he felt his cheeks heating up. “I’ve come to seduce my enemy. Is it working?”

“I’d rather be your partner if that’s okay,” he whispered.

“Yes, but is it working Adrien?”

He chuckled—she didn’t even need to try, he’d always been too far gone when it came to her. “A bit too much.”

He kissed the proud and satisfied giggle from her lips.

#ml fanfic #miraculous #adrinette #ladynoir #identity reveal #pre-reveal post-relationship #but then #post-reveal pre-relationship #yes I made it both okay #breakup & getting back together #angst & fluff #happy ending #mention of chat blanc #hurt/comfort #temporary character death #but like it doesn't last long okay it's just an Akuma thing #myshitwriting

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kerikaaria · 4 years ago

Text

Smile

(Hoseok x gn!Reader) Oneshot, Coffee shop!au

Genre: (PG13) Hurt/comfort, fluff, angst

WC: 4.6k

Warnings: None, unless you count a stereotypical Kdrama trope or two offensive haha

Summary: At 28 years old, you suddenly felt like your life was resetting. One of the few things that brought you comfort was keeping the routine of stopping by the local coffee shop, and the barista behind the counter had definitely noticed the recent change in you. All he wanted was to see you smile again.

Breath of Sunshine is a sequel to this fic.

A/N – This fic is my submission for the January prompt with @thebtswritersclub for Beginnings/New Beginnings.

I'm a horrendous human being and absolutely forgot to tag @moccahobi for beta reading this fic for me! Thank you for your suggestions Lillia! And please excuse me being big dumb lol. I love yoouuu!

Pushing the door open, the familiar jingle of the bell sounded and warmth started to envelope your chilled body.

"Good afternoon, Y/n," the barista said as he made another customer's drink, pausing for a moment to throw a smile in your direction.

"Good afternoon, Hoseok," you replied, attempting to smile in return but could feel how stiff and forced it was.

He quickly finished the drink he had been working on, properly saying goodbye to the customer as he always did. He grabbed a new cup as he asked, “Are you having the usual?”

“Yes, please,” you said.

Hoseok gave you another smile before getting your drink started while you approached the register. You got your payment out, ready to go as he approached the counter. After swiping your card, you watched as he resumed making your drink. Hoseok had been working here for at least as long as you had been a regular customer and it was obvious he knew what he was doing.

"The weather isn't that bad today," Hoseok made small talk while he finished putting your drink together.

"Yeah, it's not quite as cold as the rest of the week had been,” you responded. If this were a month ago, you would have continued back and forth, encouraging conversation between the two of you. You could only just muster up enough energy to respond right now, much less continue a conversation.

Especially not today.

Preferring to stare at the counter rather than make eye contact, you didn’t notice the worried glance Hoseok threw your way. He had definitely recognized the change in your demeanor over the past weeks. He really missed your smile—the real one and not the forced one that sat on your face nowadays.

When he finished your drink and handed it to you, you attempted a smile once more as you thanked him before sitting at one of the tables in the café to relax.

It was a Saturday and you had a standard Monday to Friday job so you didn’t have anything to do today. But this was one of your favorite places to go, and after all the changes that happened the past month you needed a familiar routine to help keep you feeling sane.

One of the few comforts that came with moving back to your childhood home was that this coffee shop was within walking distance again. When you had moved away over a year ago, you would have to leave for work sooner to catch an earlier bus, getting off only to stop here before getting back on to finish going to work. You adored this quaint little shop and the bright faces behind the counter and didn’t want to sacrifice your patronage just because you had moved.

So needless to say, your weekend visits had stopped at that point since there was no need to catch the bus then. But now that you were back here, you had resumed your Saturday morning walks which led you here. Even though it was winter, you found the crisp air refreshing and found it easy to let your troubles escape your mind during the 20 minute venture.

You sat by a window, mindlessly watching the cars drive down the street. You had made a fair amount of progress this month, but today was particularly difficult. It was January 23, what would have been your 6 year anniversary. That wasn’t a thing anymore, of course.

At 28 years old, you suddenly felt like your life was resetting. Things that you wanted in life that had seemed so close to coming into fruition merely a month ago suddenly felt so far away, you weren’t sure they were possible anymore.

As you let your mind wander, you were unsure how much time had passed. Your drink sat empty in front of you for a while, but you didn’t feel ready to leave just yet. When you got back home you’d be reminded of how different things were now, and that wasn’t something you were looking forward to today.

Suddenly, your attention was drawn to a new cup being placed on your table. You turned to see Hoseok standing next to the table, smiling brightly as ever.

“It’s a good day for a drink like this, don’t you think?” he asked.

“I didn’t order this,” was the only thing that could escape your mouth. He was definitely known for throwing in a free drink here and there, but you most certainly didn’t want to take advantage of it.

“It’s my treat,” he insisted, “I’m actually done with my shift. Do you mind if I sit here with you?”

You glanced back at the bar, and sure enough Namjoon was now manning the station while the owner, Seokjin, took orders from the customers in line.

Looking back to Hoseok who had been waiting patiently for your response, you decide to give a nod.

He sat across from you, taking a sip from his own drink that he had no doubt made himself. A silence hung between you but it wasn't uncomfortable. Hoseok never made you feel uncomfortable. When you reached for the new cup and realized what drink he had made you, it only reminded you of how kind he was.

It wasn't your usual, but was something you had most definitely ordered here before. You could still remember the first day you had ordered this particular drink.

Hoseok looked at you, amused. "Not getting the usual today, then?"

"No, not today," you confirmed. "I really need this today."

"Oh?" he asked as he rang it into the register. "Is it some kind of special occasion thing? I know some people do that."

"Not exactly," you said, handing him your card. "It's more of a comfort drink."

Hoseok hesitated to swipe your card through the reader. "Oh. Not having a great day?" A frown sat on his face.

"You could say that," you sighed.

He looked to be in thought for a moment before he handed your card back to you and moved away to start on your drink.

Your brows furrowed. "You didn't swipe my card, did you?"

"It's on me today."

"You don't have to do that," you said, staying parked at the register.

Hoseok hadn't said anything else while he whipped up the drink. When he brought it over to you, you tried making him take your card one more time, but he just shook his head.

"I don't like seeing my customers upset," he said. "It's not much, but I want to do anything I can to try to make your day at least a little brighter. Please, I insist."

The smile on his face and earnest look in his eyes made you pause, before ultimately accepting his kind offer.

His smile grew even bigger when he watched you put your card away and take the drink he offered you. It was a size larger than what you had ordered.

"Thank you, Hoseok," you said. You were still unsure about taking a drink for free, but definitely were in no way going to leave without showing him some gratitude.

Holding the cup of hot chocolate between your hands made you feel warm in more ways than one. He was telling you that he noticed you weren't as happy as usual and he even remembered the significance of the drink to you.

Knowing that someone cared, even a little, was something you really needed these days and, though a little silly, it almost made you want to cry. You held it back though, offering a smile to the man sitting across from you. It was small, but still genuine.

You waited for the inevitable question of what was wrong. The sweet gesture of the hot chocolate made you feel like you may not actually mind if he asked, despite having been tired of explaining what happened 50 times over already. Just as long as he wouldn't start asking you the loaded, 'How are you?' which translated to 'How are you after him?'

He didn't ask. Instead he said, "You know, I was really relieved when I saw it was you who came in earlier."

You looked at him curiously. "Why is that?"

"That customer that was here when you walked in? He's a real charmer." He was clearly being sarcastic. "The guy wants like 10 very specific customizations to his latte, and was backseat driving the whole time I made his drink. Despite the fact that he's a regular and I know his order to the T by this point. But nope, he can never let me just handle making the drink in peace. It's so annoying."

"Oh gosh, that does sound super annoying," you replied. A pretty generic reply sure, but you already felt more engaged in this conversation than you had in most others recently.

"But then customers like you come in and you're always so kind and friendly," Hoseok continued. "Even if the day hadn't been that great, it always feels a little better when you come in. You're definitely one of our favorite regulars. It's also nice now that I've noticed you're coming in on the weekends again."

"Oh yeah, I moved back into my last house," you explained. "So I can just walk here again."

"And out of all the things you could be doing on the weekend, you choose to hang out here in this tiny little place."

You took the first sip of your hot chocolate while Hoseok spoke. It may have been basically just hot milk and chocolate, but it was really delicious. You closed your eyes for a moment to savor the flavor before answering him. “I really like it here. It’s nice and cozy, the drinks are amazing and not super expensive, and you guys are all really nice.”

“It’s hard not to be when we have wonderful customers like you,” Hoseok said.

The compliment made you feel flustered and on top of feeling relaxed and warm from the drink, you found a genuine smile that reached your eyes spread across your face.

You felt that out of all the good qualities of this coffee shop, Hoseok was definitely the most comforting thing here.

After that day, you began to have longer conversations with the barista. It wasn’t that you didn’t chat before, but him taking the time to sit and talk with you seemed to have opened up a door to a deeper friendship between you. While coming to the coffee shop had always been one of your favorite parts of the day, it started to become something you looked forward to even more than before.

You even found yourself leaving your house a bit earlier than before just to make sure you had some time to sit and chat with him for an extra little bit before needing to make your way to work. Your encounters were limited to the shop, not having met outside of the café or exchanged phone numbers yet. Despite that, you felt like your interactions were some of the most genuine you had lately.

As for Hoseok, he could see the gradual change in you. While he had no idea what had suddenly made you so upset back in December, he knew it had to be pretty substantial with how long you’ve been affected. He never wanted to ask though. He figured if you wanted to talk to him about it you would, and he would of course listen.

That being said, ever since he decided to sit down and chat with you, he felt like you’ve slowly started becoming more like yourself—more like the Y/n he remembered. He couldn’t say for sure, but he dared to hope that maybe it had something to do with him.

So the weeks went by, most days highlighted by Hoseok’s smiling face as you started going to the cafe more. On Saturdays it basically became a routine for you to arrive shortly before he’d be done with his shift, and then he’d once again sit and chat with you when it was over.

Saturdays quickly became your favorite day of the week.

You were trying to figure out how to nonchalantly ask Hoseok if you could exchange phone numbers, or meet up outside of the café, or something. And really, it shouldn’t have been hard. Easy to slip in a ‘Hey, can I text you?' or ‘Let’s hang out sometime,’ during a chat and it would have been natural. But you felt oddly nervous about asking.

What if he didn’t want that? What if he just wanted your little budding friendship to stay as a thing just at the café? What if you were reading too far into it and he was just a nice barista chatting with his customer to make them happy? Knowing you, you very well could have been reading into it too much. Even though you really, really hoped you weren’t.

You walked down the sidewalk heading home from the bus stop after work when your phone rang.

You didn’t bat an eye when it was his name that came up on the caller ID. It wasn’t frequent but also not entirely unusual for him to contact you. His calls often had something to do with tying up loose ends, or he was just wanting to chat. Afterall, you both had agreed to remain friends after the breakup. But it was still a bit awkward, both of you needing a bit more time to come to terms with all the changes that were occurring in the aftermath and, at least for you, figuring out how to move on still.

You picked up easily, swiping the green button across the screen and putting it back in your pocket, earbuds in your ears to listen and talk through. The call was absolutely standard, him needing someone to talk to in his boredom. Usually it wouldn’t bother you, but he was having one of his moments where he didn’t realize he talked about something he really probably shouldn’t have.

He started mentioning how he’d finally gotten used to you not being around. That it was normal now.

You knew why he was telling you. The changes were hard on him as well, to the point where he couldn’t sleep in the house after you moved out and he realized just how lonely it felt with no one there. So he was telling you because he wanted you to know that he was doing better.

But at the same time, when you were still in the process of getting used to not having him around, it hurt to hear. You had been having far more good—or at least better—days than bad ones lately, but you could feel your heart rip a bit as he talked. You tried not to let him hear it in your voice when the tears started. As soon as you could, you ended the conversation, making up some excuse that you couldn’t really recall but it seemed to work well enough for him and he ended the call.

You couldn’t stop the tears from continuously falling, and you felt so stupid for crying in public like that. The street was a more residential one and not very busy so there were few people around, but you felt as though anyone nearby would instantly have their eyes on you and be judging you.

You stopped at a corner to cross the street, looking both ways before starting on your way. Your gaze was glued to the ground, trying to keep your head down as much as you could to try to keep others from seeing how stupid you must have looked.

It all happened so quickly that you had no time to register what was going on. You saw a car approaching out of the corner of your eye, looking up to see it very close and going dangerously fast. And then you felt a tug, someone grabbing your arm and quickly pulling you the rest of the way to the sidewalk, making you stumble in your step.

You felt the wind from the car passing so closely behind you just a second later. The reality of how close you had been to getting flattened suddenly hit you. Still in the grip of this person who had pulled you out of harm’s way, you started shaking from the shock of it.

“Y/n, are you okay?” a very familiar voice asked, just loud enough for you to hear him past the music in your earbuds.

You quickly looked up to see Hoseok standing there, eyes wide as looked over you, seemingly looking for any injuries. When you didn’t respond, he called your name again.

You shakily nodded. “Y-yeah, I’m- I’m okay,” you managed to get out, pulling the devices from your ears to hear better.

“That jackass,” Hoseok mumbled. “He just came speeding out of nowhere. What the heck did he think he was doing?”

Feeling like it was difficult to keep steady, you let yourself lean into Hoseok for support. He instantly responded by wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders and tucking your head into his chest with his other hand.

“It’s okay, Y/n. You’re okay. You didn’t get hurt, you’re okay,” he calmly said, rocking you just slightly in an attempt to help you calm down.

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes, until you felt your composure return and straightened up a bit, pulling away from Hoseok’s comfort.

“You feeling alright?” he asked, eyes still filled with concern.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you said. “Thank you for saving me, Hoseok.”

“It’s lucky that I even noticed you across the street earlier,” he said. “I don’t want you to think you did something wrong because you really didn’t, but you should really try to pay more attention when you’re crossing the street.”

“Yeah, I really wasn’t paying attention,” you admitted. “I just- I mean I looked both ways first but I’m just not feeling the best and-”

“It’s okay,” Hoseok said. “You don’t need to explain to me. I can see something is upsetting you. I’m just glad that I was here.”

You nodded, a short silence sitting between you.

“Where are you headed?” Hoseok was the next to speak.

“I’m just going home,” you said.

“Let me walk you?” he asked.

“You don’t have somewhere to be?”

“I was just heading home too. I stayed late at the café because Joon was on a date. So no, I have nowhere to be. Can I walk you home? You still seem a bit shocked.”

You contemplated his offer, still feeling a bit shaken up from what just happened. Plus, after the phone call you just had, you could really use some company. “Okay, yeah I’d appreciate that. Thank you.”

He stepped to the side, waiting for you to start walking in the right direction before falling in step next to you.

“I was just on the phone with my ex,” you blurted out.

Hoseok’s gaze snapped to you, but you continued looking forward. He remained silent, knowing you had more to say.

“You know the boyfriend I’d mention before?” you asked, sure that he’d remember since you talked about him quite a bit. He was such a huge part of your life. “He broke up with me back in December. On the 21st.”

Hoseok was silent for a moment before he softly asked, “You guys were together for quite a while weren’t you?”

You nodded. “January 23rd would have been 6 years.”

“That’s why you moved back here?” he asked. “You two moved in together about a year ago right?”

“Yeah, a year and three months at the time that we broke up. I’m just lucky that I still had this place to come back to,” you said.

“Did he say something to hurt you?” Hoseok asked. “On the phone just now, I mean.”

You shook your head. “Not intentionally. He just doesn’t always realize when something is inappropriate or hurtful to say.” You chuckle. “He was always kind of bad at knowing social queues. He didn’t realize that telling me how it’s gotten easy for him without me around would be hurtful for me to hear.”

Hoseok didn’t know what to say, so he waited to see if you had anything else you wanted to tell him.

“It’s really hard. I had really thought he was it, you know?” you said, a sad smile sitting on your face. “But now that we’re not together, even though it’s been hard and I’m still figuring out how to be my own person by myself again, I’m realizing that maybe this really was for the better. He told me he just felt like I was his really good friend more than anything else now, and he clearly hadn’t wanted to work on things between us so there was no way we could last at that point. I am not feeling hopeful about being able to find someone else quite yet, but if I ever do I hope that they’re someone who can understand me better.

“I was by no means unhappy with him, except the issues we started to have last year that I felt like we could work through at the time. But we had different love languages. I wanted things from him that I more or less had to flat out tell him and he’d try but even then he wasn’t always putting his heart into it because it wasn’t really natural for him. I understood it, it wasn’t a huge thing. Just things like that, that were never a huge deal at all, but I realize that I really hope I can find in someone else, you know?”

Hoseok nodded along, understanding what you meant. He had been with more than one partner who was uncomfortable with how he expressed his feelings as well. While they had been much less understanding and accepting than you seemed to have been with your ex, or that he even had done for you.

“It’s just… It’s so many changes all at once,” you said. “I usually question everything. I expect people to not stick around, and wonder if people really want to be around me. But with him, I never really thought that. When I’d think of our potential future, I always thought ‘when,’ not ‘if.’ But now it’s become ‘never.’ At least with him. And it’s still hard to wrap my head around. But I have been doing a lot better. I remember you saying once before that you don’t like your customers to be unhappy and if you can make them feel at least a little better, you want to try. And honestly, you have been a huge help to me lately.”

Hoseok smiled to himself. “I’m happy to help you, Y/n. I know that I can’t help a whole lot, I understand this is all really hard for you, but I do want to be there for you however I can. I promise that the interactions we have, it’s not just me being a barista who is trying to make his customers happy. I did say that yeah, but it genuinely comes from my heart. When you stopped smiling at the end of the year, I immediately noticed. Ever since then, I remember just thinking a lot that I missed seeing your smile and wanted to try to make you smile again.”

“Well, mission accomplished then,” you chuckled. You were silent for a moment while you turned onto your street. “You know, that first day that you sat with me in the café? That was January 23rd. I was feeling worse that day than the others but you really did help me feel better. I completely forgot about what that day had meant while talking to you. And I know what the hot chocolate meant. I can’t tell you how much I appreciated that. Thank you.”

“You make it sound like I’m not going to keep trying to help,” Hoseok said. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, you know.”

“I wouldn’t want to.” You turned to him, a genuine smile on your face.

He smiled in return. “That’s the Y/n that I’ve wanted to see.”

When you were in front of your house, you stopped, letting Hoseok know you arrived.

“Oh, you live here?” he asked, a little surprised. “Really? This is literally just right down the street from my house.”

“Seriously?” you asked. “Since when?”

“For years. I’ve lived there since before I got the job at the café.”

“How come I never realized you lived that close?”

Hoseok laughed. “I have no idea. But hey, at least we know now, right?”

“Right,” you said. “Well, I don’t want to keep you, even if you do live close by.”

“Can I have your number before I go?” Hoseok asked. When you looked at him with widened eyes, he said, “Only if you want to! I just, I feel like the two of us have gotten pretty close and I’ve been meaning to ask but I just wasn’t sure how to bring it up. I want to be there anytime you need me. If you ever need someone to talk to, I want you to be able to contact me anytime.”

Hoseok’s words warmed you, leaving you speechless for just a moment before you smiled once more. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you the same thing. Yeah, I’d like to give you my phone number.”

Hoseok quickly fumbled to fish his phone from his pocket, unlocking it and handing it to you to enter your number.

“And maybe if you have some time, we could hang out one day?” you asked. “Like, outside of the café. As much as I like it there, I think it’d be nice to be able to chat without you having to worry about attending to customers. Or your nosy coworkers listening into our conversations.”

Hoseok laughed, taking a moment to calm down while you handed his phone back to him. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d really like that.”

You both stood there for a moment, unsure of how to say goodbye. Just as you were turning around to enter your door, Hoseok spoke up once more. “Y/n?”

When you turned back around, you were greeted with a really warm smile.

“I know that it’s hard right now and it’s something that you have to work through on your own,” Hoseok continued. “But try not to think of it as an end. It’s a beginning, a new start. And maybe, it won’t be as hard as you think to find someone who will give you what you’re looking for. I, for one, know someone who would be more than willing to do that for you if you ever let him.”

You felt your heart speed up and cheeks redden at the insinuation.

“But don’t feel pressured,” he continued. “Take your time. Do what you need to heal and when you’re ready, I guarantee he’ll still be here for you. He’s ready to start a new story with you whenever you are, if you want.”

With one last smile, Hoseok waved goodbye and walked up the street. It took you a moment before you gathered yourself and unlocked your door.

He hadn’t said it directly, but you understood what he meant. You couldn’t say that you were ready for anything with someone new right now, but if how you felt around him lately was any indication, you were sure that as long as what he said was true, that he was willing to wait until you were ready, you most certainly would eventually be ready to have that new start with him.

And maybe, just maybe, you put a heart next to his name in your contact list. No one needed to know that though.

Breath of Sunshine is a sequel to this fic.

A/N – This fic is HIGHLY self-indulgent. Last month, on December 21st, my long-time boyfriend had broken up with me. A lot of what Y/n feels in this fic, and what they described about their past relationship are very similar to my own experiences. I’m also uploading this on January 23, 2021, which is rather poetic because, just as in the fic, today would have been my 6th year anniversary with my ex. So yes, this is super self-indulgent and somewhat of a coping mechanism for myself. But I hope that it can be enjoyed by others as well <3.

Also, please don’t feel worried for me or anything. I really do appreciate anyone who offers me support, but I promise that I am doing alright and holding up well. Although I do very much wish it were possible for me to find my own Hobi lol (not right away of course).

Also, if you’d like to donate to my Ko-fi, feel free! Absolutely no pressure though :)

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #jhope x reader #hoseok x reader #jung hoseok x reader #thebtswritersclub #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #hurt/comfort #fluff #angst #oneshot

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wormstacheangel · 4 years ago

Text

December 19, 2021

Hello! I’m done with this chapter just in time! It took me all day cause I get distracted easily lol Enjoying my countdown for Christmas with this domestic family? Then catch up with the masterpost here!

Summary: Welcome to the flashback episode where we get the story of how Dean and Cas got together. I think it’s dumb but cute :)

Word Count: 2358 (yeah...this one could have been longer but I had to chill)

Cas was humming in the kitchen, his playlist playing loudly through the house, while he prepared Dean’s lunch. He stirred the soup once before grabbing a spoon to taste for seasoning. Adding a bit more white pepper before dropping the chopped kale into the hot pot of chicken rice soup.

“Dad?” Jack appeared on Cas’s left. “What time is Dad coming home?”

Claire appeared on Cas’s right. “And what the hell are you listening to?”

He turned towards Jack first, who was mesmerized by the stirring of the soup. “You’re Dad will get off from work at 5, so by 5:30 he should be home.” Then he turned his attention to Claire who was snacking on the homemade croutons. Her eyes met his and she smiled, small and crooked with warm eyes. “And I’m listening to a playlist Sam made me. I believe this is Wannabe by the Spice Girls. Oh, scratch that it’s playing Heaven Help Me by Lizzo now.”

Her eyes widened before she threw her head back to laugh. A hand landing hard on his shoulder while he smiled fondly at his daughter. Jack was already humming the song while reaching for some croutons for himself. Making a face when he bits down on a real burnt one.

“Does Dean listen to this teenage girl stuff?” Claire asked, leaning against the counter.

Jack copied her movement but it didn’t look as casual as Claire made it seem. Cas moved around them to get a tall thermos to fill with enough soup for a second or third bowl. Dean’s lunchbox was already filled with everything he needed to keep himself warm and full until he came home for dinner. He even added a loaf of apple cinnamon bread to his lunch so Dean could share with his coworkers. A smaller thermos was filled with coffee and he was bringing an extra reusable water bottle, covered in stickers Jack picked out, just in case.

“Sometimes. If he’s in a good enough mood.” Cas admits as he finishes filling up the thermos and zipping up the lunch box.

“You know, you never really told me when you two finally got together.” Claire pushed herself off the counter to grab his arm, looking at him with bright rounding eyes that matched his eye color. “I think I deserve to hear how my Dads got together!”

“It’s a great story.” Jack agrees as he decided that copying his sister wasn’t fun anymore but he was gonna rummage through the fridge. “Dad Dean doesn’t really like talking about it much.”

“What? Why?” Claire furrowed her eyebrows together while looking up at Cas for answers. “You two are so happy-old-married-couple that it’s sickeningly cute. Was he embarrassed or something?”

“Thank you?” Cas raises an eyebrow back at her as he swings the lunchbox into his shoulder. “And he was embarrassed but I think it’s a story we should tell in front of your father.”

“Why?”

“Cause it would be funny.” Cas tells her with a wink while Jack hummed in agreement, a big smile on his face.

As Cas drove slowly through the icy road, he was smiling, fighting back a laugh, unable to stop remembering the day he returned to Earth. Returned to Dean.

It was a few days of Earth time after Chuck was defeated that Cas escaped with his brothers and sisters, along with a few demons that tagged along. He made sure Ruby stayed asleep and behind, not wanting her to bother Sam or Eileen. He never did find Crowley or Meg, even spending some time calling out for both of them when he realized so many were woken up.

Jack found him and helped him up to heaven to try to fix whatever they could. He didn’t ask about Dean or Sam but Jack reassured him that they were fine.

“Let me make you stronger, Cas.” Jack reached for him but Cas stopped him, shaking his head.

“I don’t plan on being an angel for long, Jack. So let me use whatever is left to help you.”

And he did. Two Earth months passed before everything was sort of decided upstairs. Raphael wasn’t the biggest fan of the new dynamic but he followed orders, happy it wasn’t under Chuck and he could actually interact with whoever was in charge.

Cas could feel more of his grace slip away from him when he was with Bobby, reassuring him that his boys were the hero’s he believed them to be, and most importantly they were happy.

“Are you going back to them?” Bobby asked as he sipped at his beer, Cas sat beside him drinking one of his own. Tasted just like the first one Dean has ever given him.

Cas hummed into the bottle. “I am.”

“But they think you’re six feet under?”

“They do.” He looked down at his bottle, peeling away the label with his thumbs. “Sometimes I believe that Dean doesn’t think so.”

“Why is that?”

“He prays to me constantly.” Cas smiles, listening to Dean’s prayer right now. “Right now he’s complaining about the crowd at the grocery store.” He chuckles. “And he’s right. I do hate waiting in those long lines.”

Bobby doesn’t say much but the way he says, “Just take care of my boy.” Felt like the blessing he needed, the push, to finally go back to Dean.

Jack was coming down to Earth with him. It may take a while longer to figure out the spell to conceal and hold Jack’s God powers but they would figure it out. Amara promises to find them a way to help him and will contact them soon, giving Jack a final squeeze before she disappears.

Cas gave Gabriel one last hug, Adam even gave him one even though he was sure Michael wasn’t the hugging type before Jack flew them back to Earth. Appearing in the middle of the bunker’s library.

Jack ran off with a small smile on his lips, it was constantly strained and never reached his eyes as his powers overwhelmed him, to go look for the brothers. Cas was feeling dizzy from the flight so he shut his eyes, taking a hold of the back of the chair to steady himself.

Then he looked up when he heard a bottle break. There was a figure laying on top of the map table.

Cas took out his blade and made his wobbly legs steady before making his way over. Kicking empty beer bottles as he went. Then two bottles of bourbon by the steps. Then he saw the broken bottle of tequila that now laid on the floor by the table.

His eyes traveled up to the map table to see Dean sat blinking over at him. Head tilted and mouth slightly parted. As if he still couldn’t put a name to his face.

Cas put his blade down and made his way over to the drunk hunter. “Be careful there is glass everywhere.”

When he made it to the broken bottle he pushed it into a neat pile with his shoe.

“How about you go to bed and I’ll clean this up?” Cas leaned down to pick up the bigger pieces but he was quick to cut himself. “Fuck.” Cas hissed as he realized he couldn’t find any grace to even heal himself enough to stop the bleeding.

Dean gently reaches down to take Cas’s bleeding hand. “The last time I saw you, the real you, the same hand was bleeding.” Dean held on to his hand and tears started to fall into Cas’s hand. “I wish I could have at least helped you patch it up. I wish I could have at least done one goddamn thing for you.”

“Dean.” Cas reached to touch Dean’s face with the tips of his fingers but Dean pushed his face into his palm. His heart raced as he cradled Dean’s face in his good hand while his other hand was being held so gently.

“I miss you, Cas.” His eyes closed as Cas’s thumb started to make circles around his cheek all on its own. Feeling the stubble that was growing too long for Dean’s liking. “I miss you so damn much and I just...I don’t-I don’t think you’re coming back this time.”

“I’m back, Dean.” Cas tells him with urgency. Taking his bleeding hand back to grab Dean’s face, wanting to make him look at him. When Dean blinks up at him again his eyes start to water. “I’m back! I’m here. I’m here, Dean. As long as you want me.”

“Cas?” Dean finally seems to look at him, actually see him. “You’re here?”

“I’m here.”

“You’re back?” Dean covers Cas’s bloody hand with his own while the other one reaches to grip the trench coat.

“Yes, dumbass.” Cas chuckles through his tears.

Dean tugs at Cas’s coat and pulls him into a hug. His arms wrapped around his shoulders into a tight embrace, his nose nuzzled into Cas’s neck. His breath tickling him and his breath...horrendous.

“You stink, Dean.” Cas hugs him back as he hides his face into Dean’s shoulder.

“I love you.” Dean says as he pulls himself closer.

“I know. I heard your prayers.” Cas chuckles into Dean’s skin. “I love you too.”

Dean pulls back so suddenly that it scares Cas. Thinking maybe he said something wrong but then Dean made another sudden move.

“Marry me!”

Cas choked on his breath when he couldn’t even find his next words.

“Cas, marry me!” His eyes were wide, eyes dilated and a flushed face. Clearly drunk out of his mind. “You’re back so we can get married now! I mean...I think you need to ask Sam for my hand but fuck him for ditching me for Eileen today. Let’s get married before he gets home.”

Dean started to pull him towards the stairs, both of them stumbling over their feet for two different reasons.

“Can I come too?” Jack finally made his way towards them. “I can be a flower boy!”

“Jack, we’re not getting married.” Cas tells him, his head spinning. “I just…Dean, you’re drunk!”

“Am not!” Dean argued back, his brows furrowed together. Cas’s shoulders relaxed as he looked at how cute his grumpy expression was. “Say you’ll marry me, Cas!”

“Fine, I’ll marry you!” Cas smiles back at him and the grin that shined through Dean’s eyes made his heart race. Fuck, he really missed him. “But not tonight. Tonight we sleep off the alcohol.”

Dean Winchester was pouting at him and his heart ached. He reached to grip at his own shirt, right over his heart. “Dean, please.”

“But I love you.”

“Aww,” Jack pouted back at him. “Dad, he loves you!”

“Jack, you are not helping.” Cas glared at him and then before he looked back at Dean he had a pair of hot lips pressed against his own. Dean was kissing him.

Before he could even enjoy the kiss or even register it completely, Dean was throwing up on his shoes.

Back in the garage, Cas was grinning when he stepped into the warm office. Dean was in the front office when he walked in, the phone between his shoulder and ear as he typed away in the computer. His eyes widened when he saw Cas but then a smile spread across his lips.

“Yes, we’ll send someone right over to tow your car right over. It shouldn’t take more than two to look at. Of course. It’ll be ready by tomorrow. No worries. Okay, have a nice day.” He hung up the phone and quickly rushed to pull Cas into a quick kiss and a tight hug. “Babe, what are you doing here? I said the roads were still too icy to drive in.”

“And yet you put snow chains on my tiers this morning.” Cas hands him his lunch that his boyfriend takes with a grin.

“It’s cause I know you wouldn't listen.” He kisses Cas’s cheek. “Thanks, Babe. You have time to eat lunch with me?”

“I always have time for you, Dean.”

When lunch was over Cas walked back to his truck, Dean fixing the beanie over his head once again. Giving him a quick kiss before saying, “Get home safely.”

“You too, sweetheart.” Cas waves at him when he quickly rushes to the warmth of his truck. Then before he gets into the car he looks back at Dean, who of course was still looking back at him, “Oh, by the way, Claire wants to hear the story of how we got together.”

Dean stood there for a few seconds as his face dropped, cute grumpy. “No.”

“I promised to tell her over dinner!”

“No!”

“Love you!”

“Cas, babe, no!”

“Love you! Bye!”

“Love you too but no! Cas!”

That drunk proposal felt like years ago instead of months.

Of course, the best part of the night was the following morning.

Cas woke up with Dean staring down at him, eyes red and filled with tears but a soft smile on his lips. Fingers running through his hair in a gentle caress. Never feeling more at home than he did that morning in Dean’s bed.

“I thought it was creepy to watch people sleep.” Cas mumbles as he reaches over to rub his eyes with the palm of his hands.

“It is but you’re, um...you’re cute when you sleep.” Dean admitted while Cas froze his face warming up under his hands. “Are you really here, Cas?”

He finally pulled his hands down to stare back at Dean. “I am.”

“And you’re here to stay? Human?”

“I am.” Cas stood still under Dean’s intense stare. “If you’ll have me.”

Dean didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned down to kiss him breathless.

Cas, as well as Jack, was made to promise not to talk about the proposal. Especially the throwing up part or the Jack carrying a passed out Dean to his bed. Cleaning both of them up before he went back to his own room.

Still, he loved to tease him every chance he got. And he knew their daughter will do the same.

#Destiel #Deancas #Supernatural #SPN #A More Profound OTP #Jack #Jack Winchester #A Child #My Writing #destiel fic #destiel ficlet #spnadventcalendar #destiel advent calendar #sort of a stand alone coda fic if you squint a little

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bibliocratic · 4 years ago

Note

Been thinking about Martin being sad about/hating the way he looks bc he looks like his dad, and he tries to talk to Jon abt it, but he's Too Vague so Jon thinks he's worried that Jon doesn't like that he's fat and consequently comforts him about the wrong thing

This took so long, anon, sorry!

Because of the subject matter, there are content warnings in the tags

The first time Martin sees his own face, limp-eyed, flat and drained in the feeble straining light of the bathroom, he starts shaking. A stretching in his chest, like he's swallowed a swelling balloon that is pushing all the air out of him, bunging up his lungs and throat and mouth. That's how Jon finds him, tears sprung to his eyes as he sucks in scant and skittish breathes, his fingers clenching the lip of the sink and wondering why he can't be stronger than all this.

After that, Martin takes to avoiding mirrors while he's in the safehouse.

It's not hard. He's had lots of practise recently. The Lonely had displayed many double-edged poisons in its folds disguised as furtive blessings. His reflection had been one of them. Martin had counted it as a grateful novelty, to walk past glass shop fronts and the over-stark bathroom mirrors in the staff toilets and see the refusal of light to grant his image returned to him. Even his exile to the seafront, the rock-pools vacant of crawling life or stubborn salt-encrusted fronds of lichen, had shown him only the eddy of tide, the ripples that his steps barely disturbed in the landscape.

It had been a kindness of sorts, to take his image from him. The mirror had never shown Martin anything but things he hadn't cared to see, his own neurosis writ large and backwards.

The morning is not unusual. The birds had woken him, piping shrill even through the double glazing, and Jon, still dozy and drooling his words into his pillow, had cursed and moaned indignant at the vocal wildlife. Martin had dropped back off for another twenty or so minutes, a smirk raising the sleep-dry corners of his lips, waking up when the bed creaked and Jon had stood and stretched and made all sorts of horrendous cracking noises like some sort of human castanet.

This morning though, Jon is in the bathroom, shaving, and making a worrying racket doing so, and Martin is still in that sort of headachy realm of not quite awake yet, where he still gathering the components than make him functional as he shuffles around in his boxers and waits for the shower to be free. Martin's not sure why today, but he finds himself opening the wardrobe. Inside, on the back of the left-hand side door, there's a full length mirror, pocked a little with age and smeared with dust.

Martin's not sure why he feels strong enough today to look.

The thing he expects to see first: his hair shorn down, just shy of a buzz cut. Martin's been doing it himself for years, every month or so hunching over the sink and bathroom mirror in his old flat in Stockwell and uniformly mowing his hair down to a prickly ginger fuzz.

His mum never liked his hair when he grew it out. Snapped and sniped about how long it was getting whenever it started to bend in a curl, encroaching over his ears, and he'd not always had the money or time to go into town and go to the barber's. When he got his first job, scrimping aside the little he'd left over at the end of the month, he'd bought clippers from the nearest Boots, attached the first guard he'd picked up and ran it over his scalp until the up-scrub was spiky and even. The first time was a bit of a hack-job, lopsided and uneven, but he's improved his technique with time. The method and cut was cheap and basic and he wasn't fond of the way it made his ears look stuck out, but it was one less thing he had to worry about, one less thing his mum could disapprove of.

His hair now hangs, uninspired, slightly greasy and knotted over his ears. Shaggy-dog over his forehead until he swipes it back, a small curl down to the nape of his neck.

He looks like his dad. Sees the man he barely knew staring back, the image lost that Elias had so viciously returned. Studies his snubnose struck centre, a wide jaw that rounds out his face, ruddy cheeks with sparse and spotting freckles. Some of the hairs of his eyebrows are starting to grey. His eyes seem suspicious, washed out, unhappy. He wonders if this is what Jon sees, a man whose closed-off expression does not appear to trust the world nor its motives.

The sort of man who might just up and leave if the going gets tough.

Jon pads into the room, though Martin doesn't turn round. He puts all his weight on the front of his feet, always has; even in the Archives, Martin could place Jon's footsteps next to Sasha's sturdier stride, Tim's faster tread.

Jon plants his face against Martin's back, grumbles through a good morning. He's smooth jawed again, his skin baking from the shower, his hair not quite towelled off properly, still dripping.

“Lookin' handsome,” Jon mumbles, throwing out a hand to gesture at the mirror, at the twin men standing awkward and self-conscious opposite each other.

Martin observes at his own hands cast back at him through the mirror. His thick arms, the round and pasty pale of them. He has big hands, he thinks to himself. Broad, weathered palms, the skin cracking dry, short and stubby fingers. Hair starts to grow sparse on the back of his hand close to his wrist and only gets thicker and denser up his arms. Jon slumped standing immediately behind him isn't visible in the reflection; Martin's body takes up too much room, wide and solid, even when he wants to secrete himself smaller. He's tall, like Dad was, he guesses, though he stoops and hunches in his shoulders to try and negate it. Martin thinks he looks like the sort of man that plays rugby and drinks too much. When he's walking home, trudging through the residential streets between the tube station and his flat, people passing him sometimes scrunch their body in away from him, and every time that hurts. In the dark, without his stumbling words and over-eager expression and his clumsiness, something about him looks like it could turn nasty, and Martin doesn't know how to take that.

He went drinking with Tim and Sasha once in Lambeth. They'd had four or five and Sasha had bought them obnoxiously coloured and overpriced cocktails before dragging Tim over to the pool table, Martin sitting out to the side amiably, sipping his sugar-heavy drink and tapping his feet to the music someone put on the jukebox. Two men came over ten minutes later, drunker than them, arguing that they'd been there first, and Sasha had been fired up enough to snap back. It had looked like a scrap brewing, so Martin had put his drink down and stood up, anxiously ready and willing to urge Tim and Sasha away just to keep the peace. The two had looked at him, eyes roving up before they held up their hands, backing off, saying they'd come back when they'd finish.

“No bother, ey, big lad?” they'd slurred at Martin. “Didn't mean anything by it.”

Sasha had beamed as they left, and called Martin a lucky charm. He hadn't felt very lucky. He'd felt sick at the reminder.

The problem as he sees it, is that everything about him is big.

Inside: too big heart and too raw-open soul. A great vast reservoir where he keeps every bubbling expression of fear and grief and rage that he's never expressed with his body.

Outside: big stocky arms, an over-hanging stomach matched with a tall spine and the sort of footsteps that announce his arrival well before he enters a room.

Martin's dad never hit his mum. He assumes that's something Elias would have glibly enjoyed sharing. But sometimes he'd stood too close when they'd been fighting, looming, deliberately crowding in her space, and she'd noticed how much taller he was, how much stronger. She'd thought she saw something mean and nasty in his eyes, the way he clenched his fists that meant he wanted to.

She'd imagined she saw that look in her son sometimes too.

Martin worries about that. Worries what other poisoned legacies his dad left him with.

“Mart'n?” Jon says. He's encircled his arms as far as he can around him, though they don't link up, scratching his nails through the hair on his chest. His hands long-boned but smaller, slighter.

Jon is not a small man nor a tall one, average in appearance in most ways if not for the scars, if not for the way the composite of his image makes Martin's heart something stronger in his chest. But Martin is bigger than him when they lie together, Jon's side of the bed made less by default, shunting him further over to the corners. Martin is stronger than him, because Martin has lifted him bodily to hear Jon's laughing protestations as Martin manhandled him onto the sofa and kissed the veins down his throat, the blush risen in his cheeks.

And Martin's angrier than he used to be. Or angrier than he used to admit to being. His mood pinballing from flat to frustrated as everything the Lonely dulled ploughs back into him, all of Martin's mechanisms, the checks-and-balances he built within himself gone ruinous. Martin can be so angry these days, and he doesn't know how to deal with it.

Martin doesn't like the way that worry fizzes under his tongue.

“My dad had big hands,” he says out of nowhere. “He wore some rings, I think, and he had to get them resized to fit his fingers.”

“You making plans to get us rings already?”

Jon's joke is shy and nudging, but Martin doesn't feel like raising the corners of his mouth in a smile.

Martin moves a hand to squeeze the flesh that bunches around his upper arms, pats his stomach.

“I've definitely got his belly,” he says. “His arms. Prob'ly end up with his hair to boot, he was receding a bit.”

Jon's hands stroke palm down over what stomach he can reach.

“I like your stomach,” he says, and it's not that Martin doesn't believe him, because he's getting better at not doubting people, at allowing himself to trust they might like something about him. It's that that wasn't the point.

“Hmm,” Martin says noncommittally, and glances at his own hands again. Square chewed nails and the small bumps of veins.

“You don't look happy,” Jon says.

“What? No, I mean, it – it's fine, it's...”

“Do you... not like looking in the mirror?”

Martin sighs.

“Not particularly.”

“Because you have a problem with how you look?”

“You don't have to spell it out like that, Jon.”

“Like what?”

“Like you're a – my therapist or something. I don't want to – to be questioned o-or psychoanalysed about it. I just, no – I don't like looking at myself. That's all.”

Jon's arms don't unhook from around him. Martin exhales and feels the frustration like sediment build up.

“I look exactly like my dad,” Martin says finally, bitterly.

“You don't,” Jon replies quietly, into the meat of Martin's shoulder.

“You can't know that,” Martin says, although the words are empty of meaning and they both know it. Jon both can and does, whether he means to or not.

Feeling his Adam's apple bob, he continues: “Elias, he showed me. When I was – er, when we needed him distracted.”

Jon's arms clench around him.

“Elias showed you what he wanted you to see,” he says after a careful moment.

Martin shakes his head, because he saw what he'd known already, what his mum had seen, the trickle of memory gushing torrential. That he has his dad's big fingers, big hands and big anger, and he is frightened of what sort of a man that makes him.

“I could....” Jon's fingers flex and skate over the skin where Martin's stretch marks root down to his hips. “I could look? If you wanted? Tell you if Elias was... if what he showed you was true.”

Martin thinks about it, but Jon feels the silence of his refusal and presses his nose against the freckled handful of skin where Martin's shoulder blades are.

“I'll tell you what I see then?”

“See see, you mean?”

“No. Normal seeing. With my own two eyeballs.”

“I am being blessed with the originals today, what a gift.”

Jon headbutts him with his forehead, and the small laugh and a 'Jon!' is pushed out of him as a scarred palm is held up near his face, an eyelid opening in the skin to leer at Martin.

“Put your bloody Pan's Labyrinth eyeball away,” Martin grouches, and he can feel Jon grinning mischievous as the disconcerting eyeball winks before being sunk closed back into the skin.

“Better?”

“I am never going to get used to that.”

Jon makes a noise of agreement. He unplasters himself from Martin's back, and takes a tugging hold of his wrist.

“Look at me?”

Martin lets himself be turned round. Weak-willed, soft-spined to the last wherever Jon is concerned.

Jon looking up at him now, fringed with damp locks seaweeding down his face. Martin brushes them back out of the way, and Jon captures his hand, meshes their fingers together slowly and precisely.

“Tell me?” he asks quietly. “What you've been thinking about? And I'll tell you what I see.”

“My hands,” Martin says after a moment and Jon nods and hums and holds Martin's captured palm in front of him.

“Bigger than mine,” Jon says, demonstrating, holding the two of them as imperfect reflections of each other. “You've got short nails because you bite them. The cold's making the skin dry, but they're soft, usually. Sturdy. Even when – even when we were leaving the Lonely, I knew once you took my hand we wouldn't get separated.”

“My – er, my arms,” Martin says after a while, prodding with his free hand at the loose flesh at the undersides of his arms. “Well, my bingo wings.”

Jon frowns, reaches up to encircle his grip around them.

“You've got muscle under there,” he says. “You can lift me, no trouble. The first time you did, I, um, couldn't help but hope you'd do it again.”

Martin finds it in himself to meet Jon's gaze.

“Yeah?” he says, pleased.

Jon is starting to blotch with blush, but he carries on, fingers stroking Martin's upper arms.

“Even if you weren't strong,” he says. “You've got – your, um. Freckles. There's no pattern to them, of course, but I like seeing if I can find one anyway.”

“You're a big softie,” Martin chides roughly, dry-mouthed and watery eyed.

Jon doesn't deny it.

“What else?” he asks delicately.

“I'm – I'm heavy,” Martin says, the words shrivelling quiet on his tongue. “I-I don't mind – I'm not ashamed of being, you know, not the smallest guy, I've never had a-a problem with it, not exactly, but I-I'm bigger than you. I'm stronger than you and I take up more room and, my dad, I look so much like him s-s-so what if – ”

He trails off. Swallowing. Unable to finish.

Jon's arms embrace him and he allows himself to be bent down, the angle uncomfortable and Jon on tip-toe, his face mushed into the side of Jon's throat.

Jon rubs at the broad expanse of his back.

“You'd never hurt me,” Jon says, fiercely. “Whether you look like your father or not. You're not him, Martin. I can't, I know I can't convince you, but it doesn't matter if you've got his arms or his eyes or his hair. He's never been where you've been, or done what you've managed. I bet he doesn't – doesn't write poetry, or whistle the Archer's theme tune, or I dunno, is completely useless at catching things.” Martin gives a wet attempt at a laugh. Jon's hands move comfortingly up and down.

“You're not your dad,” Jon continues after a moment. “You aren't responsible for the man he was, or the man your mother thought she saw in you. That's not – it's not your burden to carry. Fuck whatever shadows Elias showed you. You're not him. It's – I can't make you like what you see in the mirror, but when I look at you, I don't see any of the things you're scared of.”

“You can really just, know all that, huh,” Martin says after a minute, lifting up his head, rubbing his eyes with his hand.

“I don't need to,” Jon replies.

Martin's hugs are crushing and enveloping but Jon clings back as tightly.

Martin pulls back after a minute, wiping his eyes again though he knows they've gone red and puffy, already feeling the crimping heat of self-consciousness in his chest. Jon leans back in to kiss him, first his lips, and then his cheek, quick and affirming, as he trails his fingers through his hair.

“You'll be wanting this cut soon,” Jon says, although he seems disappointed at the thought, combing his fingers through the tangle self-indulgently.

“I might try growing it out.” Martin tests the water of the idea, and Jon looks approving at this, nods and hums and runs his fingers through again.

It's been a long time since his hair was longer. Martin thinks he might suit it.

“What would you say to a beard?” Martin follows up, just to see Jon try to valiantly quash his dissatisfaction and keep a neutral expression. He almost succeeds.

“If you... If you think it best,” Jon manages stiffly.

Martin's laugh is a free and booming thing in his chest.

#the magnus archives #tma #cw self esteem issues #cw discussions of domestic violence #cw body image #cw mild body horror #jonmartin #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #fic

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years ago

Text

Serendipity C.3

Summary: Since Winnie continues to provide Bucky with some meals over the last two weeks, they have become quite good friends. Only, there is one thing Winnie needs from him: just a tiny little favor.

Bucky Barnes x Winnie Monroe (ofc)

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 4k

A/N: Tumblr has been really weird with tags, so I hope everyone sees this 🥰

Masterlist // Serendipity Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

These last two weeks, I might’ve made four plum pies, despite still not liking them at all. I might’ve also spend a lot of time with Bucky at my apartment after work. Usually I would eat my dinner by myself, spend the nights alone mindlessly watching television, but Bucky comes over a lot and I don’t think I have watched any TLC program.

And to be fair, they are a waste of time anyways.

I mostly show him how to make a pie and how to cook in general. I saw the man attempting to make a pancake the other night and it might’ve been the most horrendous thing I have ever seen. It tasted okay, but that was mainly because I made the batter.

At this point, I might even consider him more than a neighbor or an acquaintance. I might even consider him a friend, though we haven’t specifically spoken about that.

‘What is up with you?’ Julia asks. ‘You have this sickening smile on your face.’

I help clean up a bit in the salon, but that’s more because I’m waiting to be picked up. My bus doesn’t drive today and especially since I stayed here way passed my usual work hours, it’s pretty dark outside. It was really stressful today here in the salon. Since Chrissy is the only one here in the salon who knows how to do a silk press, I had to take over some of her appointments, since she had to fix a botched at home silk press. On top of that, I had to do some highlights, fix do-it-at-home-bangs for some girl who was really out of it and had three ombré hairstyles to do.

‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘Can’t a girl smile anymore?’

‘I bet this has to do with her handsome neighbor Bucky,’ Chrissy says, who has been thoroughly briefed by Julia. They even watched back the security footage, so they could see what he looked like again.

‘Oh, does it now?’ Julia chuckles. Me not saying anything, is enough for them to burst into high pitched squeals. ‘You two are so into each other, it’s endearing,’ Julia adds.

‘No, stop it,’ I say. ‘We are not into each other. We’re just friends.’

‘We’re just friends,’ Julia mocks. ‘I can’t believe you believe that.’

While I obviously think he is ridiculously handsome, with those long locks and really blue eyes, I highly doubt he sees me the same way. I think he just likes to hang out with me, so he isn’t by himself and because I cook and bake stuff for him. Besides, why would he be attracted to me, when it’s crystal clear he can have anyone he wants?

‘You even cook for the man,’ Chrissy laughs.

While I want to add that I only occasionally cook for him, Julia’s loud laugh filled the entire hair salon as she doubles over. ‘Oh my, girl, you know what they say right? Nothing says lovin’ like something from the oven.’

‘It worked for my parents and they are still together,’ Chrissy says. ‘Didn’t he buy you three bouquets of flowers?’

Yes. ‘No,’ I say, but even I’m not convinced. I’ll just keep to myself that the three bouquets he bought me, were the most beautiful bouquets I had ever gotten.

Julia and Chrissy try not to laugh right in my face at me, but they simply cannot contain themselves. I mean, I don’t blame them and if we’re really honest here, I kinda deserved it. I pestered Chrissy for days on end when she was talking to this guy on Tinder and when he picked her up for their first date, I was even worse than they are right now. ‘You’re terrible,’ I tell them and I mean every syllable of it.

The door of the salon opens and we all look up as if we’re one person. Bucky enters the salon and he looks illegally handsome today. Despite the nasty cold outside, his leather jacket is unzipped, revealing his favorite red Henley. His lips form into a smile when his eyes land on me. ‘Hi Winnie,’ he says. ‘Hi ladies.’

They simply hold up their hand as they almost reached a catatonic state.

‘Are you ready to go?’ he asks me, after he looks away from them and frowns at me for just a second.

‘I sure am,’ I say, as I hand the broom to Julia, whose jaw is nearly dislocated as its almost touching the floor. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ I whisper.

‘I forgot how handsome he was in real life,’ she whispers back.

Chrissy blinks her eyes, as she visibly gawks at Bucky.

I grab my coat from the counter and as I put it on, I say to my friends: ‘See you girls tomorrow.’

They remain awfully quiet as I grab my bag. Bucky and I walk out of the salon and I’m met with an ice cold wind. It’s almost like the air is biting my face. It’s officially March now and while this morning it was okay weather, the second the night fell, you could almost see it getting insanely cold.

And my weird neighbor has his jacket open… What the hell is wrong with him?

‘Thank you for picking me up,’ I say. ‘When I read about the busses not driving today, I panicked, to be honest.’

‘Why is that?’

‘Well, I’m afraid of getting into cabs, because I fear I might step into a phony one and without a doubt would die, because that is something that would happen to me. And while I can easily walk home, I mean, I did it this morning, I just… It’s scary and I don’t do well in the dark.’

‘Well, it’s no problem,’ he says. ‘I can pick you up as long as the busses don’t drive. Just let me know.’

‘Oh, would you? You sure that’s not a problem?’

‘If it were a problem, I wouldn’t have suggested. Besides, I would hate it if something happens to my favorite cook.’

‘Shut up,’ I chuckle, causing him to snicker as well.

During these weeks we’ve hung out, I really enjoyed it. We watched tons of series and movies and he hadn’t seen any of them, which I thought was slightly weird. However, since everyone I know has seen all those movies, they know the plot twists. Seeing Bucky react to them for the first time, makes it even funnier.

While he can be pretty private from time to time, he slowly lets me in. It can differ from something as basic as the weather, plans for the summer to just our thoughts in general about actualities or whatever.

‘You ready for you first hot pot experience?’ I ask him.

‘As ready as I can ever be. I bought some radish and Enoki mushrooms before I picked you up.’ He holds up the plastic bag. ‘Like you told me to.’

‘Well, if you really listened to me, you should’ve brought a reusable bag.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ he chuckles, a small smirk appearing on his lips, ‘but I forgot one. I won’t every do it again. Promise.’

❀ ❀ ❀

After we prepared the soup base in my pink hot pot, we stalled everything out on my dinner table and I excitedly clap my hands. ‘Ready?’ I ask, as I sit down on the chair.

‘It looks really good, so I’m ready.’ Bucky seems more relaxed now in my place, then let’s say a week ago.

While I told him countless times he should make himself at home, it took him a while to get there. Now he just walks over to my fridge, to provide himself with something to drink.

Last Saturday we went to do some groceries together and it almost felt like we were at least roommates, trying to figure out what we should buy. He is really clueless when it comes to food, but he does know his way around with beer, an area I have zero knowledge in. When we got to my place again (after he insisted on paying for it and it’s probably a battle I will continue to lose in the future), he stored his beer in my fridge.

Not even a few bottles in his own.

He grabs a bottle of beer and a bottle of wine. As he places his beer bottle on his side of the table, he opens the wine bottle and pours some in my glass. ‘There you go, Winnie,’ he says with a smile.

My eyes get lost in his friendly gaze for a second, but then I realize it’s impolite to stare. ‘Thank you.’ When he sits across from me, I grab two pairs of chopsticks, holding them up. It’s the same ones he has next to his plate. ‘Okay, first rule: the dark ones you use to cook your food and the light ones are to eat your food. Make sure you do not mix this up, because otherwise you eat from your raw meat chopsticks and we don’t want that. Okay?’

‘Okay, got it.’

‘Also, don’t add too much food in it at the same time. My dad did that once and it got severely overcooked and that was really disgusting.’

Bucky nods as he listens intently.

It’s almost making me uncomfortable. ‘Why are you staring?’ I ask him. ‘You never stare.’

‘You talk about certain things with so much passion, it’s lovely.’ He tries to hold his chopstick, but is still figuring it out a bit. ‘About your job, food, flowers, movies, cats on the street.’

‘Oh,’ I say with a nervous chuckle. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Why are you apologizing, when I’m not accusing you of anything? I think it’s sweet.’

I clear my throat, as I try to pull myself together. ‘Anyways, you first put in the fishballs, and meatballs, so they can boil a little. Once they float on top, you know it’s cooked and ready for you to eat it. You then put in the meat and lastly the vegetables and noodles, copy that?’

‘Copy that,’ he confirms.

I help him with a method to hold his chopsticks, but decide to help him out by putting it all in the hot pot, even for him.

I watch him trying to dip some of his pork in the sauce and he puts it in his mouth. ‘And?’ I ask him. ‘What do you think?’

‘This is delicious,’ he says. ‘Can we do this every week?’

I chuckle, when I see the excited look in his eyes. For a second the underlying hurt and pain is gone. No matter how happy he seems, there is always that fragment of pain. ‘Of course we can.’

He takes a sip of his beer and becomes more and more swift. He eats like he hasn’t eaten for days, which is weird, because I have been consistently feeding him for most of the time. I lean back as I drink some of my wine, while taking in Bucky. He continues to push his hair back and I hold up my hairband I have permanently on my wrist. ‘You want?’

‘Would be nice,’ he says.

‘Stay put,’ I say as I stand up and walk around the table. ‘You are lucky I don’t mind touching other people’s hair.’ I gather the top layer of his hair, since that is really distracting him. Besides, without some gel and other products, I don’t think I could perfect a man bun for him. I wrap the elastic around the strands and I can’t help but admire his hair. Ever since the hair cut I gave him two weeks ago, it looks really good. Especially since he listens intently to all the advice I give him when it comes to hair care.

My phone helps me to snap out of my slight trance. I snatch it from my kitchen counter and discover it’s my mom. She never calls without sending me at least five texts. ‘You mind? It’s my mom.’

‘No of course not,’ he quickly says. ‘I think I’ll manage here. Can I put in some noodles?’

‘Go ahead.’ I quickly flash him a smile and pick up the phone as I walk out of the kitchen. ‘Hi mom.’

‘Hi Winter honey, how are you?’

‘I’m good, mom. Please don’t take this the wrong way, because I really don’t mind you calling me, but you usually text first. Is everything okay?’

The last time she called me without texting first, was when my uncle Jacob was in the hospital. We already knew he had cancer, that it was already stage four and there was nothing we could do about it. However, I had to go back to work, so I told mom she had to call me the second his health started to decline even further. When she did call me without texting me, I dropped everything and rushed to Oregon. With the entire family, we stood around his bed, as he fell asleep and didn’t wake up anymore.

‘Everything is just fine, honey,’ she reassures me and I let out a relieved sigh.

Wait, isn’t the memorial week we always have to honor uncle Jacob nearing?

‘Just a quick reminder that next week is the memorial week for Uncle Jacob.’

Oh crap, so it is week. I already arranged time off of work, but it might’ve slipped my mind. I have been busy feeding my neighbor. I just need to get the tickets and buy something for my grandparents, but maybe I can do that in Eugene.

It’s five years since uncle Jacob passed away. With every year that goes by, I see it’s becoming more and more difficult for my grandparents. They buried a son and I think that might be the worse thing to ever do as a parent.

‘Right,’ I quickly say. ‘No, I remembered. Of course I remembered, mom.’

She probably knows I totally forgot, but thankfully she simply lets it slide. She can’t help it either I can be the biggest scatterbrain from time to time and accepts this from me, even when I forget her birthday four years in a row. ‘Good news, little Robbie got engaged to Eloise. You know, the girl you met last summer.’

What? No, no, no, I think to myself. This can’t be really happening. Robbie cannot possibly be engaged. This is the most horrendous news I have heard in quite awhile.

Because if Robbie is engaged, that means I’m officially the only Monroe who is single and childless.

Since all three of my uncles will be there, including my aunts, cousins and cousins once removed, it means…

Oh no, this week is gonna be terrible. Everyone is gonna ask me whether or not I’m seeing someone and when I say no, it’s almost like there is no way for more conversation. I am still a hairdresser, I haven’t met any celebrities in the salon and I don’t have any interesting hobbies, besides keeping up with all sorts of reality shows on TLC.

This is gonna be a week filled with me being the babysitter.

‘Oh, isn’t that great,’ I mumble. Stupid Robbie, I’ll kill him once I see him.

When I met Eloise, sure, she was a lovely girl, but I didn’t think it was gonna last. I highly doubt no one thought so. Robbie goes through different girls at the same pace as I go through ramen.

It was bound to fail.

Or so I thought, because now the idiot is engaged and I’m not.

‘Are you taking anyone with you?’

Mom sounds so hopeful and I know it would make her very happy if I brought someone with me. I mean, I would be very happy to take someone with me. Especially because one of my cousins Brie loves to rub in that we’re the same age and she already got a university degree, a husband and a lovely daughter and I’m able to do a very lovely balayage, a bob and curtain bangs on curly hair.

My parents always said to me that a relationship shouldn’t be the number one goal in life and while I try to live by that, I still kinda wish I could show someone off. To rub in everyone’s face that I too can have a relationship, especially with someone beautiful. Both Brie and her sister Tess have husbands that I might crushed on for a while. Wouldn’t it be wonderful the same thing happened, just the other way around?

‘You have been awfully quiet, dear,’ mom notes and I remember I was on the phone with her. ‘Does that mean you have something to tell me?’

‘Well,’ I start and my conscious is a little slower than my impulsive behavior, because I add: ‘I do have a boyfriend.’

Fuck no, crap, no, what I have I done? I don’t even have one. I nervously pace around my living room, hoping that will speed up the process of me thinking of an excuse.

‘You do?’ mom exclaims. ‘Oh Winter, I am so happy for you. You have to bring him with you next week if that is possible. I really hope that would be possible. I cannot wait to tell your dad. What’s his name?’

Make something up, Winnie, please don’t be impulsive and don’t do the thing that you are thinking of. ‘His name is Bucky,’ I say.

Okay, I did it.

‘What a lovely name,’ mom says. ‘Well, you should send me a picture of the two of you. Oh, wait, no, don’t do that. I’d like to see him for the first time in real life. If he can’t make it, then I want a picture.’

My mom is weird, but thankfully this gives me some more time to think about this.

‘Oh dear, I need to hang up, but I can’t wait until I get to see you and meet Bucky. Love you, sweetheart.’ She hangs up and I stare mindlessly at my phone.

Okay, we can conclude I have royally fucked up. Now what? How do I solve this?

I could, of course, not say anything to Bucky and just go to Oregon by myself and tell everyone he couldn’t make it.

Downside to that is that I have to have multiple pictures of the two of us and a few of him I could show to my family. I could photoshop a handsome man into pictures with me, but I highly doubt I am that talented.

And if I do the photoshop thing, Brie is never gonna believe me, that’s one thing I know for sure.

I could, of course, just ask him if he wants to go with me. Maybe he wants to spend time with me and my family and grant me the fulfillment of seeing the jealousy drip off Brie’s perfect face.

I walk into the kitchen and see Bucky enjoying the rest of the hotpot. I mean, he is show off material with his handsome face and after I got to know him, I really think he would be a great boyfriend, fake or not.

‘How is it?’ I ask him.

Bucky looks up, a beautiful smile on his face. ‘This is amazing, Winnie,’ he admits. ‘Everything that comes out of your kitchen is amazing. Thank you for providing me with something better than a boiled egg, some cucumber and regular plums.’

I can’t help but smile. Maybe Julia was right: maybe nothing says lovin’ like something in the oven.

‘How’s your mom?’ he asks me.

‘Good, good,’ I say, as I sit across from him. ‘I have this family memorial thing next week, for my uncle. He passed away of cancer five years ago.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘Does that mean you are going back to Oregon?’

‘Yep,’ I say. ‘I just heard my youngest cousin got engaged,’ I continue. ‘Meaning all my cousins are either engaged, married and or have children.'

‘Leaving you the only one who is single,’ he fills in.

‘Truthfully, yes.’

That causes him to cock an eyebrow, as he looks at me funny.

‘My mom might be under the impression I have a boyfriend.’

‘How come?’ he asks.

I grab a meatball out of the hotpot and dip it in the sauce. ‘I might’ve told her that,’ I say, putting the meatball in my mouth.

Bucky places down the chopsticks and leans back in the seat. ‘What’s his name?’ he asks me, as he crosses his arms in front of his broad chest. My eyes fall on his gloved hand, still because he is not at ease enough to show me his scars, but I understand. I mean, I have a nasty scar on my side and I’m not showing that to him.

Do I want to drag him into this?

‘Bucky,’ I whisper, but loud enough for him to hear me.

‘What?’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I just couldn’t help it, okay? I heard my youngest cousin got engaged. Engaged! He is only twenty one and on and off the only ally I had during those family weeks. I want to fit in for once and not be the babysitter, who can take care of the kids, so the others can have conversations. I want to show someone off and not be the laughing stock for being single again. Please, Bucky… I would really appreciate it if you went with me.’

‘To be your fake boyfriend?’ he asks me.

‘Exactly, you’re already getting it. That’s a good sign, a sign you should totally say yes,’ I say. ‘I bet my entire family would absolutely adore you. Please, it’s only for a week. You can literally be anyone you want to be. Honestly, if you tell them you work with the fire department or you’re a surgeon, you could totally go for it. After this week, I’ll eventually tell my mom we didn’t work out and that’s it. The end. Finito.’

Bucky cocks an eyebrow and lets out a deep sigh. ‘I don’t know, Winnie. I’m gonna lie to your family.’

‘Oh come on,’ I practically beg. ‘I lied to my parents growing up and they never suspected a thing. They are literally so gullible, you can tell them anything.’

‘Just because you lied to your parents, doesn’t mean I should do that,’ he says.

That’s true. ‘Right,’ I say. ‘You’re totally right.’

‘Is it really that bad to be single?’ Bucky asks.

‘In general? No. At a Monroe family get to together? Yes.’

Bucky frowns. ‘If I would say yes, what is there in it for me?’

That is not a no, I think to myself. ‘Well, I was thinking that you can literally eat here whenever you want. Mi casa es tu casa. You can even have a key to my place. Bucky, I’m really desperate, okay? Just one week.’

Bucky sighs.

‘If you really hate it,’ I continue to try, ‘just fake you have to go back for work. I’ll pay for both of your tickets.’

He bites his bottom lip and when I examine the look in his eyes, he is carefully thinking about the pros and cons of this impulsive and ill thought out plan. ‘Okay, I’ll do it.’

I let out a squeal, as I clap in my hands. ‘Thank you so much, Bucky. You have no idea how much this means to me.’

Bucky lets out another sigh, but burst into laughter not long after that. ‘I can’t believe this. You’re quite something, Winnie.’

‘If you think I’m something, you haven’t met my parents and the rest of my family, so brace yourself.’

‘Well, I think it’s nothing I can’t deal with.’

I am absolutely delighted he agreed to this. ‘Oh, that reminds me, we need to take some pictures of us.’

Bucky frowns. ‘Why?’

‘Because as of right now, we’ve been dating for around four months and since you are so happy and obsessed with me, we make pictures all the time.’

‘Am I that type of boyfriend?’ he chuckles.

‘Yeah, you are that type of boyfriend. And we are that disgusting couple that has pictures of one another as our backgrounds, so we should do that as well.’ I grab my wineglass and Bucky holds up his beer bottle. ‘To us,’ I say.

Bucky nods. ‘To us.’

❀ ❀ ❀

Bonus:

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