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theladyofdeath · 3 years ago

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Life As We Know It {Chapter 12}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelby's blogs! >> @snelbz

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

* In case you missed the announcement - we will now be posting chapters 3 days a week! Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. We hope you continue to enjoy the story!

** Trigger warning: Miscarriage.

This chapter is legit a roller coaster, ngl. Enjoy. ;)

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Nesta stood in the living room of Elain’s house with Nyx on her hip, feeling guilty for dropping Nyx off for the night even though Elain was the one to offer.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Gives these little cousins some bonding time.” She reached out and took Nyx’s chubby little hand. “Besides, you and Cassian both need time to recoup.”

She wasn’t about to deny that. It had been a week since her not-date with Balthazar, a week since she and Cassian had uttered more than passing comments on how Nyx had acted throughout the day to each other.

Every time she looked at him, she found him already watching her and the fact got under her skin.

It became an unspoken thing that whenever she cooked dinner, she would make an extra helping and put it in the fridge for him. Not because she felt like she needed to, but because it made her feel better about their awkward arrangement. The longer time went on, the more she realized that as much as she’d been acting like taking care of Nyx together was a death sentence to her social life, he was going through the same thing.

And when she got home, she planned on making dinner for the two of them to share together. A sort of white flag of truce between them.

It was the least she could do. “Call me the second something happens-.”

“We’ll be fine,” Elain said, taking Nyx from Nesta and kissing her sister’s cheek. “Now, go. Relax. Take a bubble bath with some wine or something. Read one of those filthy books you used to hide in your closet.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed.

Elain’s smile widened.

After a tough goodbye, Nesta was heading toward her car and driving back home, making a quick stop at the grocery store just around the corner.

She quickly got all of her fixins, prepared to make one of her favorites - salmon, rice, and green beans. A glance at the calendar that morning told her he would probably be home around five, which gave her just under two hours to make dinner. Easily doable, she’d made three-course meals in less time, for much harsher customers.

Yet she couldn’t figure out why her stomach was in knots.

When Cassian came home, he opened the front door and froze. The quiet in the house unnerved him. Usually, there was some random white noise to fill the house, whether that was the television or one of Nyx’s inane toys that distracted him so well. But as he walked through the house, the TV wasn’t on and he couldn’t hear much of anything.

Until he heard a throat clear from the kitchen.

Instantly, Cassian was on alert, not liking the sound at all, recognizing who it had belonged to, but silently, he made his way into the kitchen.

Nesta was sitting at the table, a plate of food in front of her, with an identical one at the spot he typically sat in.

“What’s…going on?” He asked, slowly taking another few steps into the kitchen.

Nesta stood and grabbed a beer out of the fridge, before taking it back over to where he hovered between the table and the doorway. She held the cold bottle out to him. “This is a truce.”

“A tru-?” He took it, but shook his head, not quite understanding her. “Where’s Nyx?”

“He is having a sleepover with Seph, Elain and Azriel. Elain wanted us to have a night off,” she said, sitting back down at her seat. “So I made us dinner.”

“You made us dinner?” he repeated, staring at the plates. “For the two of us to have? Together? At the same table?”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, unless you don’t want it.”

Cassian cleared his throat as he pulled the chair out across from her and popped open his beer. “I won’t turn down free food. Especially when it’s made by an expert.”

Nesta said nothing more as she cut into her salmon. “An expert?”

“You get paid for cooking,” Cassian said, picking up his fork and collecting a pile of green beans. “That makes you an expert. A professional.”

“This is a lot of compliments,” she said, watching him carefully as he ate.

“Maybe I’m jumping on board with this whole truce thing,” he said, mouth full of food.

Nesta wanted to chastise him about his manners, but bit her tongue. “You weren’t on board with it to begin with?”

He chewed slowly and then set his fork down. “Neither of us have…handled this very well,” he admitted, taking a drink from his beer. “And I’m willing to take a portion of the blame, but not all of it.”

Nesta weighed his words carefully. They were blunt, but not untrue. Sure, he’d acted like an ass many times, but she had only responded in kind. She knew she could be a bitch, and she knew she did it well. Sometimes too well.

“For this to be an official truce,” she began, holding her wine glass in her hand, swirling it once, twice, “there has to be terms we both agree on.” His eyebrows raised, but she pressed on before he could speak. “Mine are that we have to communicate. When you get frustrated or pissed at me, you can’t just bottle everything up until it all explodes. And when I get overwhelmed, I promise not to snap at you or act like such a…”

“A bitch?” He provided, when she stumbled over her words, smiling around the beer bottle pressed to his lips.

She wasn’t able to stop the smile growing on her own face, as she said, “Thank you, asshole. But yes. Those are my terms.”

He took a drink and nodded. “Okay. I think I can handle those.”

“And what are your terms?” She asked, cutting into the flaky fish for another bite.

He was quiet for a moment, debating. Nesta took a sip from her wine glass while she waited, watching as thought after thought passed across his face.

“I want to get to know you,” he said, finally. “I want to know who you are and I want you to know me.”

Nesta cocked her head to the side. It was a simple request, but Nesta wasn’t exactly good at allowing people to get to know rher. “And how do you suppose we do that?”

“A simple conversation will do,” he said, shrugging. “Over salmon and alcohol. Mostly alcohol.” He reached across the small table and picked up her wine bottle, filling up her wine glass to the brim.

“Getting me drunk so that I open up?” Nesta asked, sipping from that wine glass.

Cassian chuckled. “I would never.”

She watched her for a second, before taking another larger drink and setting it down. “Fine. Then it’s a truce.” He smirked, glancing over the table between them and then leaned over to look on the counter. “What?”

“I’m just looking for an official notice.” His smirk grew into an all out grin. “Something to sign. I figured you’d called up Tarquin and had some official documents written up.”

“You think you’re so funny.” She rolled her eyes and he chuckled, reaching an open hand across the table.

“Truce,” he said, taking her hand in his. They shook once, and Cassian was struck by how much smaller her hand was than his, yet by how firm her grip was. It was an impressive, professional handshake.

“So what do you want to know?” She asked, scooping some rice onto her fork and getting a bite of fish to go along with it.

His eyes narrowed as he thought about it and she began to wonder whether they should have laid down some boundaries. But he asked, “You went to the University of Velaris, right? What did you study there?”

Nesta blinked in surprise, not having expected the question. “Business and marketing.”

Chewing slowly, Cassian raised an eyebrow. “Nothing culinary?”

She shook her head. “No, I liked cooking, but I never thought it would become my career. I majored in business and marketing, with a minor in communications.”

“That sounds…” He fought for the words for a second. “Boring.”

Taking a drink of her wine, Nesta chuckled. “Oh, it was,” she admitted. “The longest four years of my life, but I’ve got the pretty, little diploma with my name written on it to show for them.”

“And how did you learn about food? How to cook?”

She shrugged. “I taught myself. I graduated college and had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I got a data entry job at a marketing firm and spent my free time in the kitchen, trying and testing and tasting.” She paused, and her eyes fell to her plate. “Before my dad died, he listened to my idea about starting a small restaurant, with a few of my favorite recipes on the menu. He left me the money to do it in his will.”

“And now?” he pressed, although his voice held a certain gentleness. “Are you successful and thriving?”

Nesta snorted. “I make enough to live and pay the few of servers I have. If that’s successful, then I suppose.”

Cassian nodded in appreciation. “I’d say it is. What about the future? Bigger restaurant? Multiple restaurants?”

“Someday,” Nesta said, with a longing in her voice. “And what about you? And your guitars? Surely you don’t want to be a bartender forever.”

Cassian shrugged. “I don’t mind the bartending. Good tips and I meet a lot of interesting people.”

“But?” Nesta asked.

“But,” Cassian repeated, huffing a laugh. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t exactly say that managing a bar is my passion.”

“So, guitars then?” Nesta asked, brow raised. “You’re really talented. Your guitars are beautiful.”

Cassian’s eyes shot to hers, wide as he slowly set down his fork. “Holy shit, did you just compliment me?”

Nesta’s lips pursed as she kicked his shin under the table.

“I’ve always been good with my hands. Not like that,” he said, pointing at her when he saw the smirk growing. “I mean, creating things, playing instruments, even something as mundane as making drinks. If it’s something I can do with my hands, I typically love it and nine times out of ten, I’m good at it.” There was none of the cockiness she’d come to know in his voice. Just pure explanation, and a bit of devotion. “I’ve tried my hand at making furniture and little knickknacks, but there’s nothing that compares to building an instrument from scratch.”

“And you do it all? Yourself?” She asked, taking another bite.

He nodded. “I start with a few rough pieces of wood. Sand it, stain it, and boom, brand new guitar.”

Snorting, she lifted her wine glass to her lips. “I think you may have missed a few steps in there.”

“Well, I didn’t want to bore you,” he chuckled.

“How long have you been playing guitar?” Nesta asked, finishing off the last of her food.

Cassian took a minute to think about it, then shrugged, finishing off his beer. “As long as I can remember. I grew up with my mom in Illyria. They live simply up there. Music is…a way of life. It grew on me quickly. Mom bought me my first guitar that a friend of hers had made before I could even walk.”

Nesta chuckled, quietly. “Just like you did for Nyx.”

Cassian nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. Another drink?” he asked, nodding toward her emptied glass.

“Sure,” she said. “But, wine is gone. I think there’s some tequila in the cabinet.”

Cassian lifted a brow as he rose. “Tequila?”

Nesta grinned as he went to the cabinet. “Make me a drink, bartender?”

Cassian laughed as he grabbed the glass bottle from the cabinet. “I can. What’ll it be? Tequila sunrise? Margarita? Pretty sure we have some lime juice, somewhere.”

“I’m not picky,” Nesta promised.

She heard him laugh. “Somehow, I have a hard time believing that, Archeron.”

“Only where it counts,” she replied, smiling at him. She picked up their empty plates and rinsed them off, loading them into the dishwasher. Turning, she found him setting a shot glass with salt on the rim down on the counter. She chuckled. “That’s not what I asked for.”

“First of all, you technically didn’t ask for anything in particular,” he said, pointing at her as he crossed the kitchen and opened the fridge. “Secondly, this is the most classic drink I can make you with tequila. It’s the oldest recipe in the books.”

She outright laughed. “That’s cause it’s just straight tequila.”

“Exactly,” he grinned and damn it, if her heart didn’t skip a beat. “I lied, no lime juice.”

“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “But if I’m doing sloppy shots, you’re joining me.”

“Oh, I never say no to shots,” he said, grabbing another from the cabinet.

He filled them up, and slid one to Nesta, who took the glass in her hand and held it up.

Cassian clinked his against hers, and they tossed them back.

Nesta’s face didn’t change a bit, and Cassian met her steady eyes. “Impressive.”

“Not my first tequila shot, Nazari,” she said, hopping up to sit on the counter. “What else do you want to ask me?”

He leaned down on the countertop, letting his arms lay flat. “Hmm.” He let his fingers drum quietly. “What did you want to be when you grew up? Or was it always a chef?”

She scrunched up her nose. “I was convinced I was going to be a doctor, I wanted to help people. But then I found out how many years of school was required to be a doctor. So I decided I wanted to be a nurse.”

Cassian carefully poured a couple more shots. “And what happened to that dream?”

“I found out that the sight of blood makes me queasy. Sometimes I throw up, sometimes I pass out.”

He laughed. “That seems like enough to throw off a career plan.”

“Yep,” she admitted, picking her wine glass up.

Cassian filled up the shot glasses, once more, and slid hers back to her. She set down her wine glass and snorted as she tossed it back.

“You know what we should do?” Nesta asked, and Cassian lifted a brow in question. “Go for a swim. We’ve been here over a month and have yet to use the pool that I’ve been cleaning, daily.”

Cassian took his shot before watching her, closely. “Last one in has to share their deepest, darkest secret.”

Nesta scoffed. “What are we, children?”

Cassian grinned as he pushed himself back from the counter. “Scared of a little competition? Afraid to lose?”

They stared at each other in silence for a minute before Nesta jumped off the counter, and ran up the stairs to throw on her swimsuit.

Cassian and his heavy footsteps were close behind.

It took her a few minutes to remember where her swimsuits had been packed, and from the slamming of drawers down the hall, it seemed Cassian was in a similar predicament. She finally found a two piece stuffed in the back of her underwear drawer, not exactly what she had been looking for, and hesitated before stripping down and pulling the bottoms on. Nesta was out her bedroom door before she even had the top fully tied, pulling it into a hastily tied bow behind her back. Her feet carried her as she flew down the stairs, but she froze when she opened the sliding glass door and found him already in the water.

He grinned from where he had his muscular arms resting on the side of the pool, and his hair was soaked, pushed back off of his face. With the wide smile on his face, he looked so much younger, almost boyish.

With a sigh, Nesta turned and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing a couple beers in each hand and made her way back onto the lit up patio.

“I win,” he said, smirking up at her.

The tongue she stuck out at him wasn’t her most quick witted response, but she was trying not to let her eyes drift beneath the water. When she suggested the pool, she hadn’t been thinking of how much skin would be on display, for either of them.

“That’s because you only had one piece to put on,” Nesta said, sitting near him by the edge and handing him a drink.

“Hey, if you only wanted to put on one of those pieces, I wouldn’t have stopped you,” he protested, and Nesta had to hide the way his suggestive tone, those words, made her blush.

He didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he popped open his beer and took a long, slow drink.

“So how about that secret?” He asked, voice lowering.

“Hmmm,” she crooned, tapping her chin. “Which to share when I have so many to choose from?”

Cassian chuckled. “You would have an endless string of secrets. Come on, what skeletons are in your closet? Something you’ve never told anyone else.”

Nesta had a lot of those, too. She wasn’t exactly the “open” type.

There was one true secret she kept though. One that no one else had known, not even Feyre or Elain. Just her and…

She hesitated and he looked up at her, caught the look on her face. “What?”

Shaking her head, she said, “I don’t want to kill the mood.”

The hand holding the bottle was right next to her thigh, and he let his pinky skim over her skin. “That kind of secret, huh?”

She gnawed into her lip, nodding.

“I’ll tell you mine, if it helps,” Cassian said, looking up into her face.

She slipped into the pool, thankful the water was warm, and shook her head. “That wasn’t our agreement.”

He stayed quiet, letting her process her own thoughts.

Sinking beneath the water, Nesta re-emerged, slicking her hair back. After a steadying breath, she said, “I’m sure you remember Tomas, my ex who interrupted our date?”

The mention of their date surprised Cassian, after so many weeks of them dancing around it. He nodded.

“We were together for a long time, you know? All through college.” She wasn’t looking at him, wouldn’t meet his eye. “I got pregnant just after our senior year. I had never wanted kids, you know? Wasn't the family type, at all. Never saw myself having a family. Anyway,” she continued, shaking her head. “It didn’t matter. I miscarried.”

Cassian continued to look at her, continued to watch as she stared blankly ahead.

“I got excited about it, too, which is ridiculous,” she went on. “For a moment, for those few weeks that I thought Tomas and I would be starting a family… I actually got excited.”

“How far along were you?” He asked, gently.

She answered immediately, with no hesitation. “Thirteen weeks. It was like one day I was pregnant, carrying our child and the next… The baby was gone.” She was quiet for a moment. “I woke up one morning and there was blood, so much blood. Tom was already at work, so I drove myself to the hospital, but there was nothing they could do.”

Cassian recognized the slow blinking, knew she was reliving those slow, sad moments again.

“I was dying inside, trying to come to terms with the fact that our baby was gone, and Tomas got home and-.” She took a deep breath and looked over at him. “He asked what I was making for dinner. He didn’t even acknowledge that our child was gone and… l guess that’s when I decided to do the same. To pretend nothing happened. We didn’t really talk much about it. We never told our families, I never told Feyre or Elain. Our father died about a month later and it all seemed so insignificant at that point. But Tom and I never recovered, our relationship at least. We broke up a few months later and…” Nesta shrugged. “Life kept going. I decided to open my restaurant and never looked back.”

“I’m sorry,” Cassian said, quietly.

She finally looked at him and shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t make it any less painful of a memory,” he countered.

She just nodded. “It’s how it was supposed to be though, right? Wasn't meant to be.”

Cassian took another drink as he nodded, slowly.

“Anyway,” she began, clearing her throat before dunking herself back down under the water.

“Would you like my secret?” He asked, when she turned and rested her arms on the edge of the pool.

She shrugged. “If you feel so inclined. You didn’t lose the bet.”

He leaned back, letting his arms drape across the edge of the pool as well. “When I was eighteen, I broke my back. I decided to take a year off before I started school, and was working construction over the summer to save money. I wanted to travel for a while. But then I took a bad fall off a roof. I spent two weeks in the hospital and then was stuck in my bed for another ten. And Rhys and Az stayed by my side the whole time. They put off their last hoorah vacations before they went off to college to stay with me.”

Nesta’s eyes drifted to Cassian, drops falling from her lashes. “Doesn’t seem like a secret if people know about it.”

“You didn’t know,” he shot back.

Nesta smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Fair. That sounds awful.”

“It was,” he agreed. “I don’t know if you know this about me, but I don’t like to stay still for very long.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Nesta said, a little spark returning to her eye. “It was torture,” he followed, finishing off his drink. “Not being able to move. I played so many damn board games that I never want to look at one ever again.”

“Even if Nyx asks?” Nesta inquired.

Cassian gave her a lopsided grin. “Well, he’s the exception.” Nesta laughed, and Cassian shook his head. “I’d do anything for that kid. I think Rhys knew that, when he named me godfather.”

She understood that, related to it completely. Especially considering they had been named godparents together, regardless of their mutual distaste for the other. Their love for Nyx, for Rhys and Feyre, had been evident to everyone.

“I miss him,” she admitted, resting her cheek on the concrete. “I know it’s only one night, and I’m beyond appreciative, but… It’s weird not having him right inside.”

He nodded. “I get it. I do, too. I know Az and Elain can take care of him, and I’m sure he had a blast with Seph before they went to bed, but it hasn’t stopped me worrying about him.”

Nesta nodded, stretching her back. She took a drink from her beer. “Did you ever want kids of your own?”

He blew out a harsh breath and drained his own bottle before answering. “I never really considered it much, when I was younger. After my back healed, I was so focused on getting back to life that relationships and dating weren’t high on my priority list-.”

“But fucking was?” Nesta asked, smirking.

He rolled his eyes, nudging her slightly with a shoulder. “Maybe I was interested in sex more than relationships, I’ll admit. But before I knew it, my early twenties had come and gone. Everyone I knew was getting married and had babies on the way and… I was still the one living the bachelor life and decided to just run with it.”

“I get that,” Nesta agreed. “After…everything that happened with Tomas, I never wanted that again. My date with you and my date with Balthazar are the only two proper dates I’ve been on since college.”

Cassian lifted a brow. “And have you been on any improper dates?”

Nesta didn’t answer. Instead, her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink as she finished off her beer.

Cassian’s grin widened. “I never knew you were such a freak, Archeron.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she muttered, which just made him laugh harder.

“I must admit, it’s nice to hear you talking about our infamous date so often tonight,” Cassian said, pulling himself out of the pool.

Nesta couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles flexed, how the drops of water streamed down his back, between his shoulders, down to his waistline and the swim trunks, which rode low on his hips. She cleared her throat. “I didn’t say anything nice about that date, did I?”

“Absolutely not, but is there really anything nice to say?” he asked, sliding the screen door open. “I mean, you were an absolute nightmare.”

She gawked after him as he went inside, and once he came back with a small pyramid of beer cans, Nesta said, “I was a nightmare? You were a complete disaster!”

He scoffed, setting the cans down and cannon balling back into the pool. Even though she was already in the water, Nesta couldn’t help the squeal that left her. Cassian was grinning when he came up for air. “I forgot my wallet. I fully intended to pay you back, both monetarily and with the best sex you’d ever had in your life, but you decided to get huffy, stomp back to your front door and slam it in my face.”

“Oh, please,” Nesta said, reaching for a can and popping it’s top. Foam erupted from the opening and she put her mouth to it before it could drip into the pool. “You were over twenty minutes late, you wore work boots and a leather jacket to the nicest restaurant in Velaris, and we ran into your fuck buddy.” She drank deeply from the can, emptying it in one go. “As for the best sex I’ve ever had in my life, I’ve become very accustomed to and am just fine with my own hand, so you’re going to have to try pretty hard to do better than I myself can.”

She wiggled her fingers in his face and before she could register what was happening, his hand was wrapped around her own. As if he didn’t already know that. Cassian had caught her getting herself off in the bathtub, a memory that was seared into both of their heads. He tugged her closer and the empty can fell from her hands, floating on top of the water.

“I was talking about the past, sweetheart, but you seem to be talking about the present,” he breathed as her chest brushed against his own. “Who says my offer still stands all these years later?”

“You’d be a fool not to make that offer,” she breathed, and she knew the scent of beer was all he was breathing in.

“And would you accept it if I were?” he asked, one hand still wrapped around hers, the other snaking its way around her waist. “Still offering?”

Nesta’s breath hitched as their mouths grew so close, too close, close enough to reach out and taste his lips with a brush of her tongue.

It was tempting.

It would be stupid. Alcohol fogging her brain or not, Nesta knew it would be stupid.

But it was tempting, and in that moment, there were very few things Nesta could think about other than his hands against her skin, his lips a breadth width away from her own, and his cock she could very prominently feel twitching against her thigh.

Nesta’s lips brushed softly against his as she said, “Try and find out.”

#nessian #snacmc #snacmc lawki #modern au #lawki #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm #acotar #acosf

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dearkusuo · 4 years ago

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Ch. 1 ☆ Last Christmas

Synopsis: You were intent on avoiding your ex-boyfriend all of winter break, however, your mom and her best friend had other plans lined up for you.

Pairing: Saiki Kusuo x reader

Tags: college au, fluff, angst

Word Count: 2.7k

m.list ▪︎▪︎▪︎ 1 ▪︎▪︎▪︎ 2

Thick clouds painted the darkening sky a dull grey while streetlights began to glow over the horizon. The cold air bit the skin on your cheeks, tinting them a shade of red the moment you stepped out of the car you parked by the curb. Your fingers fumbled to button up the coat you wore as a chill ran down your frame.

You opened up the trunk to take out your belongings stored inside, promptly closing it shut soon after. The siren of your vehicle went off once as you locked it up, and you trotted to your porch, suitcase trailing behind while you dragged it along.

Flashy decorations were displayed all over your front lawn, and colourful lights were strung on the tiles of your roof. You resignedly shook your head at the extravagant presentation.

Your parents tended to be overly zealous when it came to Christmas decorations. You’ve known that for as long as you can remember, but it didn’t make you any less hesitant to see the setup they arranged for the interior.

Your hand drifted over the doorbell, leaving it extended in the air for a long moment. You hoped they remembered that you no longer have a house key and got home from work early. The sound of the bell rang aloud as you pressed the buzzer.

You instinctively flinched back when the door flung open seconds later. Your mother let out a squeal, wrapping her arms around you in excitement while you returned the tight embrace, a small grin gracing your lips. She hastily pulled you inside when a gust of wind passed by, causing you both to shiver. The change of temperature warmed your frigid body.

The living room was lavishly accentuated with festive ornaments, just as you thought. Silver tinsel outlined the furniture while a heavily adorned Christmas tree noticeably stood at a corner of the room. Red stockings and green holly wreaths hung on the wall and the smell of gingerbread filled your nostrils.

Your brows lifted in surprise when you spotted your next-door neighbour sitting comfortably on your couch.

“This is unexpected,” you uttered.

Your mother’s best friend, Mrs. Saiki, stood up and ambled her way to you. She took your palms in her grip and greeted you with a hello.

"How long has it been?" She wondered.

"About a year," you answered plainly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

She brought both her hands over her lips to cover up a gasp. "It’s been that long? You really should come home more often."

A deep hum left your throat as you courteously nodded along in agreement. You turned your attention to your mother with a puzzled look on your face when she lightly tapped your shoulder

“Before you arrived just now, Kurumi and I were thinking that it would be a great idea for us to spend the holidays together, so we decided to have a small party on Christmas Eve,” she mentioned cheerfully.

You gave another nod and replied casually, “Alright.” The two women often spent time in each other’s presence, so it wasn't unusual for them to plan on spending Christmas together. It was probably just a get-together they were having with the rest of their friends. “You two have fun then.”

“Actually, it will just be both of our families attending,” your mother corrected.

Your tone dropped an octave lower, “Oh?”. The implication that you had to be present heavily dripped from her words. Were they really expecting you to tag along with them?

"We thought it would be a great idea since you don’t come home a lot, and all of us hardly see each other anymore."

“Kusuo just returned from college this morning, and even Kusuke is visiting for a while,” Mrs. Saiki blurted out excitedly.

"It'll be like old times," your mother added.

Like old times. When your families always spent time together. When you were together.

It left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Your mother and her friend happily beamed at each other, oblivious of your deteriorating mood. The turn of events left you unwilling to participate in the conversation any longer.

"I gotta go unpack,” you announced.

“Of course, you must’ve had a long day,” Mrs. Saiki exclaimed.

“It was nice seeing you again,” you conceded, keeping up a polite smile. She gave your hand a final pat before you retreated.

"Your dad is upstairs. You should go see him first," your mother suggested.

You mumbled an acknowledgement as you marched up the second floor with your luggage in tow. As was requested, you gave a quick greeting to your father before you entered your room.

The familiar space was left in a spotless and tidied condition that led you to believe that your parents regularly dusted and maintained it in your absence. Your bedsheet was neatly tucked in without a wrinkle to be seen, and your shelves were conveniently organized. Frantically, you went through your desk drawers to check if they had snooped through your personal belongings.

You faltered once you opened the last compartment. The sight of a wrapped present left untouched caused you to momentarily pause in shock. Your handwriting was scribbled out in black sharpie on the gift wrap, addressing it to Saiki Kusuo.

You never did get the chance to give it to him. Closing the drawer, you made a mental note to throw it out when you got the chance.

You looked out the window in musing. He must’ve known that you were coming back today. The dark, dull sky was tainted white by the snowflakes that began to descend to the ground.

You padded down the stairs late in the morning. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air. Your father sat on the couch, watching the broadcast that was showing on the TV.

"Hey," he said with a wave of his hand. He briefly looked at you before returning his attention to the news channel. You gave a simple greeting in return.

"I made plans to meet with Chiyo and Kokomi today. We're eating out, so I'll be back in a few hours," you explained, already halfway to the exit.

"Alright,” your father responded idly, keeping his eyes trained on the screen. “Your mom and I made plans with the neighbours as well. We might not be home by the time you get back."

"Got it," you called from outside the door frame. You made your way to your car, hopping on the driver’s seat and revving the engine to life with a twist of the ignition.

The drive took a little longer than it usually would have, as the weather from the previous night left a thin layer of ice covering the road. Fortuitously, you had snow tires installed on your automobile beforehand, ensuring that you made it to your destination safely.

Your friends were already occupying a booth by the time you arrived at the diner. They bombarded you with conversation the moment you sat down, anxious to know what you’ve been doing for the past few months. You apprehensively informed them of what your mother and her best friend had planned for Christmas Eve.

"That's not gonna end well," Kokomi remarked.

"Tell me about it. What were they thinking?" Chiyo griped. "You’d think they’d know how awkward it would be for you and Saiki since you two are, you know, exes."

"I don't think they care," you grumbled in a distressed tone.

You crossed your arms over your chest, brooding over the unwanted encounter that was sure to happen.

"So, what are you gonna do?" Kokomi asked.

You shrugged wearily before responding, "I’ll probably stay for a bit, then dip whenever I can."

There was a high chance that you’d somehow get roped back into the party, but you currently didn’t have any other solutions to your dilemma. Anything was fine as long as you could spend as little time with him as possible.

A ruminating silence fell between the three of you.

“When did you guys break up again?” Chiyo inquired.

“Last year, on winter break. Around this time of the season.”

You directed your focus on the plate of food you ordered as memories of the previous December flooded your mind. Your nose crinkled in concentration.

“It must’ve been hard for you guys to be in a long-distance relationship,” Chiyo pronounced with a long sigh.

The distance was never an issue for the two of you since he could teleport to your location anytime.

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

Towards the end of the relationship, it felt like you were the only one who cared enough to keep things afloat. You gave it your all while he usually lacked the initiative to make an effort out of the limited time your college workload would allow.

But it’s not like everything was his fault. You had to admit that you often pushed past his comfort zone when he was content with just spending the day peacefully at home with you.

It was your dynamic that ultimately convinced you to break up with him. The two of you simply weren’t compatible together.

You quietly chewed on your food as you listened to the carefree chatter of Kokomi and Chiyo.

You parked the car by the curb of your house. Snowflakes fluttered to the ground once again as you stepped out of the driver’s seat. You hurriedly walked to your front door, eager to get out of the freezing weather.

There was no response when you rang the buzzer.

You let out a frustrated groan as you remembered your dad saying no one would be home when you returned. They didn’t even bother to leave a spare key for you.

You pulled out your phone, scrolling through your contacts to seek temporary shelter from a friend. Chiyo would only pry into your love life again, and you didn’t like running into Kokomi's brother.

At this point, your best option was to stay in a random store for the next couple of hours. Your teeth began to chatter as you walked back to the front gate, ready to start your car once again.

"Oh? Look who we have here."

Your head intuitively whipped around to the source of the voice. A man with pale blonde hair strode towards you. The headgear on his head strikingly stood out.

"Kusuke? What are you doing here?" you queried.

He cocked his head to one side at your bewildered gaze.

"Did nobody tell you I was visiting for a few weeks?”

Your eyes widened in realization as you recalled the previous night when Mrs. Saiki passingly declared that her eldest son would be returning for the holidays.

“Are you locked out?" he probed, observing your shivering frame.

You nodded timidly, unconsciously pulling your coat tighter over your torso.

"Why don't you come stop by for a bit while you wait for your parents?"

You grimaced. Knowing Kusuo, he was probably at home, minding his own business, and an interruption from both you and his brother would only put him in a foul mood. Likewise, you’d rather avoid him if you could help it.

"No, that's fine. I'll just wait at a friend's house," you insisted, shaking your head in refusal.

"But I'm guessing none of your friends are available."

You gritted your teeth. It was always difficult to break free from Kusuke’s snare. Judging by the smirk that crept on his face, he knew that his assumption was correct. Reluctantly, you let him usher you into the Saiki residence.

Kusuke offered you a cup of tea while you patiently sat on the couch. The heat it emanated warmed your numb fingers back to life. Your eyes roamed the living room that was decorated so extravagantly, it rivalled your own. At the back of your mind, you wondered if Kusuo had teleported someplace else while you remained in his house.

Kusuke asked you simple questions about your college experience, people you met, and your part-time job. He was being polite enough that you almost felt bad for anticipating he'd ruin the moment by being his usual overbearing self.

"Are you seeing anyone at the moment?" Kusuke inquired.

There it is.

You didn't see how that was any of his business. A short pause lingered between you two as you kept your mouth shut. You quirked an eyebrow up in bewilderment, waiting to see where he was getting at.

"Why don't you consider going out with me?" He grinned mischievously.

"That's a lame joke, even for you," you retorted.

"How can you be so sure that I'm joking?"

You scowled at him. Kusuke didn't like people. That was enough for you to believe that he was fooling around just to get a reaction out of you.

'What do you think you're doing?' a familiar voice rang in your mind, provoking your muscles to tense up and your jaw to lock.

He appeared out of thin air. The sight of green lenses and antennae poking out of pink hair caused you to internally panic.

"Kusuo, I was just having a chat with our lovely neighbour here." Kusuke gestured to you.

'Seems like harassment to me,' Kusuo scoffed.

"Don't be like that. It’s not like I had any ulterior motives." Kusuke chuckled. He turned to you again and imparted with a smile, "Don't take anything I've said to heart. I was just teasing you."

You figured as much, but you still couldn't help the annoyed huff you let out.

"Did you come down here because you were feeling left out? Do you wanna join in?" Kusuke asked his little brother in a disdaining tone.

Kusuo glared at the blonde man as he quipped, 'No. I’m here to tell you to be quiet. I can hear you from upstairs.' He shifted his attention to you. The blank expression on his face caused you to fidget under his gaze.

"I got locked out of my house, so Kusuke invited me to stay here while I wait for my parents to come home," you rambled, glancing down at your lap. Although he probably already knew that.

'I'll unlock the door for you.'

Kusuo's footsteps lightly echoed off the wooden floor. You looked up after a few seconds to see him waiting expectantly for you by the exit.

Placing down the unfinished cup of tea on the coffee table, you scrambled up from the couch. You waved goodbye to Kusuke before following his younger brother outside, softly trudging on the snow beside him.

“You look well,” you commented.

Kusuo only gave you a curt nod, a strained silence following soon after.

What did you expect? He wouldn’t bother wasting time on small talk with his ex when he was already so eager to kick you out of his house.

Both of you halted when you reached your porch. The sound of a click went off as Kusuo's hand hovered over the lock.

“Thank you,” you politely murmured, letting out a sigh in gratitude. You brazenly stole a glance at him from the corner of your eye. Kusuo's lips were pressed into a thin line, and his eyes were downcast, as though he were contemplating deeply. You thought nothing of it, returning your gaze forward.

Twisting the knob, you pushed the door open and stepped inside your home. You turned your head over your shoulder to say a coy goodbye, but no words escaped your lips.

He leaned into you, stopping a few inches from your face. Your breath caught in your throat at the intense look he gave you. Your heart skipped a beat as your body ignored your brain’s protests telling you to move.

‘Are you doing alright?’ he mused.

You could only nod in reply.

‘I see.’

His brows furrowed the slightest bit as he pulled back. If you hadn’t known him for years, you might not have noticed the flickering emotion on his face. You turned your body around to get a better look at him.

Was he worried for you? It was a possibility. The two of you left on a bad note after all, and Kusuo never liked hurting someone’s feelings. Even if he didn’t care for that person anymore.

‘That’s not the case.’

"Huh?"

He vanished before your sight, leaving you standing by the door frame. The cold air breezed into your home as you wondered what he meant.

#saiki x reader #saiki k x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki #saiki k #saiki kusuo #saiki no psi nan #the disastrous life of saiki k.

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socketz · 4 years ago

Text

Johnny Depp x Female!Reader

Indulge Me.

Type : Fluff! (with a wee bit of Angst thrown in there)

Warnings : Internal conflict, swearing, kissing (pretty detailed, though nothing overly sexual), a little alcohol consumption I suppose, and that’s all. It’s super fluffy!

Word Count : 6.3k (kinda short, I know :/ my bad)

Request : Not Requested.

Summary : Johnny x Female!Reader, where they have been close friends for a super long time, and the reader (you!) has slowly developed feelings for him. A confession, a walk, and a sweet, slow, kiss, in the rain.

Authors Note : I don’t know why I got the urge to do this, but I started writing and simply did not stop, so here we are. I thought it turned out quite cute, although it is very cliche :) Also, Johnny is not famous in this, though it’s set in like ‘91, or ‘90. He’s just a really sexy regular guy, I suppose. That’s all :) Enjoy!

Indulge Me, Johnny Depp x Female!Reader

There was truly something about him - about Johnny - that you simply could not place. The two of you had been friends, strictly friends, for almost too long to remember, and it seemed that with every passing moment either of your spent, swaddled in each other’s company, that relationship merely grew. It manifested, and developed, so incredibly, yet entirely unnoticed, by both Johnny, and yourself. It was incredible, really, that such a friendship could hinder quite so rapidly, and seemingly only for one participant.

You didn’t mean to begin noticing the little things, the details, about him. Like the way he smiled, so incredibly gentle and uplifting - contagious, you could argue - or the way he would change, so naturally, when around you, in comparison to that of everybody else. His laugh would grow louder, freer, and his voice would amplify; no longer riddled with nerves and a sense of timidness. Comfort, you supposed, was a factor he allowed himself to become engulfed by, whenever you were present, and you certainly liked it. You began noticing the way he would touch you, tender, and cautious, or the way he held your hand - merely due to instinct, he would always blame, though your butterflies wished it something else - and the way he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, when you complained for the cool breeze, never once bothered by your close proximity. You noticed the way his eyes could light up, and he would smile something small; ridden with joy, for no particular reason at all. You noticed that his hair was longer, now, and that it fell to a messy central parting, digits consistently brushing it from his gaze - you liked the way he styled his hair, you decided, and it was so soft - so tender. You began to notice the way he treated you, so polite, yet bitterly brutal when his jokes played themselves around. You noticed things that you probably shouldn’t have, and, well, such an inconvenience caused a severe disruption to your whole mechanism.

At first, you thought it to be an illness of some sort. The stomach churns - the best kind, as you later discovered - and the butterflies, the tingle between your thighs. Am I sick? You began to think, as you checked yourself for a temperature. Alas, there was nothing but a flush of embarrassment to your reddened cheeks, and a heavy sensation within your chest, as you supposed that it would all disburse within a matter of days.

Well, a couple of days came, and went, and things had only gotten worse.

You began to dream of him, and, admittedly, you enjoyed them - of course you did - but it only made your face-to-face discussions an almighty difficult task to partake in. The butterflies ascended into a trail of breathtaking tingles, ignited by the slightest touch, and a sense of fire ruptured within your throat - it was so difficult to say the things you wanted to say, when your infatuation threatened to spill from your tongue at any given moment, and his beautifully chocolate gaze held you so captivated, so numbingly, to your place. He rendered you silent, your mind falling blank, with a simple smile, or a glance. Pathetic! That’s what you’d call it. Utterly pathetic. And, realistically, you knew it would only grow worse, the longer you decided to repress such information from your closest companion - and apparent lover, in your emotions’ eyes - but you simply couldn’t find it in you, not at all, to utter such simple words.

They could do so much damage - undo so many memories! And ruin everything. Maybe you were simply paranoid - maybe you were driven by utmost fear - but romance seemed so terribly painful, and you weren’t entirely sure if you could handle the way it would end. After all, everything good must come to something bad, right? Perhaps it was just the way your childhood played out, between lies and heartbreak, separation and loneliness, and fear and rejection - or maybe you were right. Maybe everything people were taught, all that they would read, about love, and about fictional infatuation, was just that - fiction. Maybe true love didn’t exist, and the books had it all wrong. Though that would not explain the thin sheen of sweat, glistening something noticeable upon your forehead.

You were nervous, to say the least.

The seven o’clock News displayed upon your television, igniting the darkened room in an expanding, blue, illumination, and you nibbled your nails somewhat anxiously, thoughts engulfing the surrounding buzz of the visual journalism - not that you ever paid it any mind, anyway. You always found the News boring - they reported nothing but shit, and you made sure to voice such an opinion, whenever Johnny would force you to watch it. “It’s educational!” He would laugh, gripping onto your hips and forcing you upon his lap. Of course, it was only something playful, and his arms would snake around your waist, chin against your shoulder. It was comfortable, you could never deny, but the News was still ever-boring and droning.

Though, now, it seemed appropriate. You were far too nervous to concentrate on anything in particular, like a gameshow, or something of the sort. Even the soccer seemed far too involving for you.

After all, today was the day you finally relieved yourself of such a weighty secret. You could hardly contain yourself any longer, and you were growing tired of the worried glances Johnny would throw your way, when you flinched from his burning touch, or paused mid-sentence, struggling to find your gasped breath. God, it was all so embarrassing. You hoped sincerely that it wouldn’t render something awkward, or differentiate your friendship, in any which way, but you were certain it was all one sided, and just wouldn’t be the same after. Perhaps he already knew, and was attempting to ignore such a thing, as best he could, and for that, you practically worshiped his ability to handle difficult situations lightheartedly. Or maybe he was as entirely clueless as he seemed to be, and it would be as awkward as you could picture the whole ordeal going.

Either way, you needed to say something, before it accidentally slipped within a regular conversation, and ruined everything. You attempted to reason with yourself, that if things truly did turn bitterly awful, at least tonight there would be pizza and wine, to salvage your mortification, and-

The soft jingle of metal echoed, distant, yet alarming, throughout the quiet and dim apartment. Scuttling, your hands grasped the remote control, muting the television in a rapid and almost panicked manner, breathing laboured and uneven. You weren’t ready - you definitely weren’t ready. You couldn’t do this - tell him how you felt, that is. How the hell would you even go about it? It wasn’t the kind of thing you could just bring up-

“They didn’t have any of that wine you like.” He sighed. You froze, rigid in your seat. “I got somethin’ else,” He trailed, “Doesn’t have a brand, I don’t think.” Two rustling bags settled in place before you, his keys landed with a loud crash upon the glass surface, jacket shrugged upon the ground with a sudden waft of cool breeze. Johnny glanced toward you, as he slumped hastily upon the sofa, booted feet kicked out before him. “What’s up?” He mumbled, his eyes fluttered to a gentle close, eyebrows furrowed gently.

“Nothing.” You said. How great of a lie it surely was, though you refused to blurt your confession aloud just yet.

An eyebrow raised, doubtful for your unconvincing reply, as a gentle grin teetered to the corner of his lips, and, oh, didn’t he look pretty. “C’mon,” He teased, “What’s up with you?” A finger jabbed to your side - an extraordinarily ticklish disposition for yourself - and you squirmed instinctively, a certain warmth engulfing your chest at the familiarity of that supple smirk.

“Really,” You persisted, “It’s nothing.” A breathy chuckle falling from upon your quiet tongue. “Have you tried that wine before?” You could confess your adoration for the poor man amidst the meal, though for now, it could wait.

“Uh-” He frowned, the quiver of a smile to trace his gaze.“No.” He said.

A subtle laugh dripped from your throat, gently shaking your head, as you mumbled a witty response. “Am I surprised, Jonathan?” To which he scoffed, his gorgeously depthful eyes rolling, and shone you a wickedly charming smile.

“Guess not.” He muttered, a beat of comfortable quiet to drift you both by. “You’re watching the News?” He then added, a furrow to draw his eyebrows closer; glance fluttered between yourself and the blare of the silenced television, projecting utter bullshit as it went - ever-the-regular, you could argue.

You simply nodded, “I am.” You said, somewhat a grin to upturn the crevices of your expression. A soft round of laughter fell from the man beside you, and you found your breath stuttered within the depth of your throat. It was an angelic muse, really, and thus you found yourself unable to conjure a furtherly coherent - never mind advanced - response, the simple two words proving enough for his bemused self.

“But you fucking hate the News.” He scoffed. “Why the hell are you watching it?”

A subtle giggle left your throat, and you snatched the lip of the bag before you, eager to indulge within the gorgeously scented - and warm - food. “Shut up, Johnny.” You said, a gentle smile to follow, “What’d you get?”

“I don’t know.” He smirked, “Somethin’ meaty, I think.”

“Of course,” You sighed, unable - quite - to dislodge the grin upon your rosy cheeks. “I mean, why would you know the pizza you ordered, right?”

“Precisely.” He smiled, “I’m thrilled you understand.”

“Always a pleasure.” You simply said, for your mind had distilled something blank, useless, and your words had seemed to fail you. The sofa was old, it was desperate, clinging on to the stitching hardly reliable, but it was comfortable. It was familiar. Johnny, and yourself, had refused to refurbish it - those cushions had been with you both, from the very first night. Roommates, you were. And simply the best kind. But there truly was something so tragic about a romantically tinted friendship, no matter for whom the sufferer seemed to be.

Johnny latched upon the large pizza box, throwing it open, and - unsurprisingly - knocking the wine glasses with a greatly shrill ring, their clink a subtle jump. They wobbled, slowly, though regained their posture, and you found your shoulders slumping to a tender slouch. “Idiot.” You muttered, a certain fondness about your breath, as he merely smirked, and picked up a stringy-cheesed slice, mauling the triangular corner with not but an ounce of grace.

A shimmer of grease coaxed the pout of his peachy lips, cheeks bulged with bread, and with toppings; over-loaded and particularly Johnny. Meats of various kinds - various shades - littered upon the excessive amounts of cheese. “Did you order extra cheese?” You mumbled. The man nodded, a wolfish grin to reciprocate his childish gaze, and you merely breathed a subtle chuckle. Of course, you thought; of course he did.

You reached for the wine, popping the cork with a slight groan, and you poured a tester within the clear glaze of the bowled glass. You raised the edge to your mouth, took a sip, and smacked your lips. “Not bad.” You uttered, decidedly enjoying the rich tang of fruity combustion, flat and coiling, upon your tongue. You poured the glass full, hardly a centimeter from the brim, and you took a rather large gulp, quite liking the flavour, as it trickled upon the back of your throat, and you sat back, nestled within the comfortable cushions of the wondrously aged sofa. It was almost moulded to your body; for you always sat on the right, and Johnny, the left.

A comfortable silence embraced you both, and you found yourself almost wishing it could remain undisturbed - you couldn’t find it in you, no matter how hard you probed, to conjure any kind of courage at all. Your knees, they felt weak, and your stomach churned uneasily - entirely disagreeing with the digested mouthful, as you rammed the corner of a pizza slice within your mouth, and you chewed slowly, cheeks beginning to rise in temperature. How the fuck would you even go about it all? ‘Oh, by the way, Johnny, I’m entirely in love with you, and I lose myself every time we touch!’ It sounded ridiculous. There was no possible way you could simply blurt out such a destructive sentence. You weren’t even sure if your feelings were real! They had just bothered you, and you feared that they’d somehow escape the breach of your lips, and flutter around, utterly unnoticed. Goodness, it was terrifying.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong, or are we gonna sit here in silence?” Johnny said, a light amusement to simmer upon his tone. You gulped, swallowing a particularly dry mouthful, and your muscles seized up.

Surely this was the perfect opportunity, no? “Well…” You trailed. You did not want to ruin everything you’d worked so effortlessly to build with each other. Maybe you were just being silly, and your feelings were hardly potent at all. Maybe it was all dramatic, and you were fine. Maybe it was an exaggeration, and the entire thing was meaningless, and- “I think I’m in love with you.” You blurted. Fuck. Fuck, fucking fuck! Your eyes clamped shut, and you loathed the white noise. You could hope that he hadn’t heard you, though he wasn’t chewing, anymore, and he seemed suddenly rigid beside you. That was certainly a way to go about it, you scolded, wishing - with a burning detestation - that the sofa would swallow you whole.

Say something, you begged, silent, and to yourself, as the quiet continued on. He shifted, and you froze - furtherly, if apparently possible. You daren’t share a glance with his gaze, fixated upon your burning mortification, as another gentle bite snuck between your lips. You chewed, and you chewed, a soft shimmer of sweat beginning to accumulate upon your brow - how foolish you had been, to admit such a thing, in that kind of way. “What was that?” He muttered. Shit! His throat was tight, you could hear the subtle restriction, and tone low, quiet. Don’t make me say it again, you thought, a volumed gulp to follow such a ponderous moment. Please, don’t make me say it again.

“I’m sorry.” You sighed. Goodness, was it always supposed to be quite so difficult? Something began to wedge within the base of your throat, aching substantially, as the rising sensation of freshly salted tears began its ascent. Were you really going to cry? “I didn’t-” The voice caught in your throat, hindered by that ever-growing lump. God, you really hated this. “I didn’t mean to.” You didn’t mean to ruin your friendship, and everything in between, for a stupid confession that held you to the brink of fucking tears.

More shuffling was to be heard, and you noticed his hands swiftly maneuvering the - now closed - pizza box, delicately dropping the white board upon the coffee table, no longer perched between you, and him. His gaze burned upon your expression, and your cheeks flamed scarlet, glare locked unwaveringly upon the television, slightly glazed with something fearful. You truly didn’t want to lose him - to have him laugh in the face of your affection, and turn you away. And although you knew the let down would be gentle - it was Johnny, afterall, and there was hardly a bad bone in his body - you anticipated the worst. “Y/N,” He said.You gulped. A sigh escaped his lips, and he maneuvered the pizza slice from within your subtle grip, sneaking a quick bite as he went, and placed it quietly upon the table. “Y/N.” He tried again. You turned to face him, hesitant in yourself. His expression was gentle, the comforting kind of soft, and the corner of his lips lightly fluttered to the ghost of a smirk. “What are you crying for?” He scoffed, the grin simply growing as he spoke. “Don’t cry, Love.” You had hardly noticed the slip of a few salty confessions, as a soft laugh fell from your lips, hands roughly ragging upon the moist complexion. Pathetic, you thought, you were so fucking pathetic. “Come ‘ere.” He said. Your eyebrows drew together, glance unsure and lightly confused. He was so calm, and seemingly unphased by your confession - you couldn’t quite understand it.

He rolled his eyes, the tilt of amusement to pepper his cheeks, and he grasped your upper arm, dragging you along the short distance of the sofa. You slumped into his side, another giggle trickling from your tear-tangled throat, his arm engulfing you in a tight embrace; one along your shoulder, and the other curled upon your waist. You rested your head on his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat subtle and calming, and he shuffled about, gradually withholding a lying position, yourself flatly placed along his front. “I’m sorry.” You repeated, a light sigh to accompany the apology. You meant it, really, you did. It was never truly your intention to adapt to such feelings, to succumb to your attraction - he just made it so fucking difficult, with those beautifully brown orbs, and a smile filled with the brightest kinds of sunshine.

“Please don’t apologise.” He said. A short silence followed, and - perhaps it was simply an imaginational malfunction - you thought the rhythm of his heart rate differentiated, though only for a fleeting moment. “Did you mean it?” He whispered, tone soft; hesitant.

A gentle frown caressed the bow of your expression, and you tilted such to face him, his features crossed handsomely with a sense of slight worry. Of course you had meant it - why on earth would you lie for such a thing? “Yeah.” You said. His gaze flickered between your eyes, a whir of doubt embracing the warm stare, and his tender wrap upon your frame squeezed for a passing moment. The hint of a smile glazed his orbs, a certain light suddenly rupturing within their mocha tone, and the corners of his mouth twitched a feathered smirk.

“Oh, yeah?” He said.

Your eyes rolled, seemingly still slightly dampened by your emotional concern. “Yes, Johnny.” You said.

��Ah, right,” He muttered, grin widening to that of something toothy, and warm. “See, I thought I was going crazy.” He craned his neck to the slightest degree, gaze dropping momentarily to your parted lips, before springing back up, a twinkle of mischief to glaze his eyes. “I thought,” His tongue darted gently, dampening the flush of his lips, and you found yourself staring with a tingle of a blush - God. Your thighs began to ache, camped tightly together, at such a marvellous sight. “There’s no fucking way,” He continued, slowly, as his tone simmered to that of a tender whisper. “That the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known, could fall in love with me.”

Beautiful. Beautiful, he had said. Beautiful! He thought you were beautiful! Your heart stuttered, and a furrow found your eyebrows, consciously aware of the circular trail, lightly peppered upon your waist by his wandering fingers.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You said, a mere mumble beneath your gaze of adoration and concern. What was wrong with loving him?

A breathy laugh escaped his lips, the simmer of amusement and amorous repentance dancing within his stare. “Well, why me?” He said, “You could choose anyone.” He shrugged, “Kenny, from that corner store. Andrew - you know, Andy, the one that makes the cakes all the time?” You merely nodded, albeit speechless as to his rambling. “And what about Louis? The flower guy?” You raised an eyebrow, “You could take any of ‘em. You got a choice. So why pick me?” Why wouldn’t it be him? Why would it be anybody else? You couldn’t quite understand his doubts, as you adjusted your positioning, and leaned up ever-so-slightly, with great attempt to level your shared beam. Surely he wasn’t feeling insecure, he had no reason to, after all - none that you had given him, that is.

“Don’t start that.” You said, “I wouldn’t want anybody else.”

“Oh, yeah?” He asked, an eyebrow raised, “And why’s that, Love?” He was teasing you, you could ensure, though you felt little resistance to fall within such bait.

“I wouldn’t want anyone else, because,” He glanced feverishly to your mouth, and the words seemed to pause, caught briefly within your throat. His gaze returned to yours, his smirk filtrated with some kind of newfound arrogance, and, my, didn’t it look devilishly handsome on him.

“Because what, Deary?” He said, a sudden dark swirl to his tone. It was rich, nauseatingly good.

“Because I want you.” You said. “And I’ve always wanted you.”

Though your fear found itself wretched, stammering doubts of rejection within your conscience, you supposed there was just no going back from that. And you didn’t truly believe you wanted to.

A glimmer of something heartily mischievous eloped within his gaze, “In what way?” He humoured, a slow smile beginning to trace the very corners of his wondrously entrancing lips. You paused, a moment of silence, and wondered whether you could dare to be as graciously brave as your protruding thoughts were starting to grow.

Your tone fell to something quiet - low. “In any way you’ll let me.” You said. And, oh, it had you aching, the way those delectably beautiful eyes darkened, and a pepper of thickening quiet settled between the two of you.

Johnny’s mouth opened, the breach of something verbal threatening to fall from the gasp, though nothing came out, and he closed it, instead. His breathing stammered, you dared to notice, and you felt almost ill, bereft with the simplicity of your want, your need, for his emotional acceptance. “I see.” He said, somewhat breathless, and entirely succumbed with - what you depicted, perhaps foolishly, to be - love. You felt something rise, flutter, within the depth of your digestion - almost drabbled with such pride, that you could affect him in any which way. A grin engulfed his expression, once more, and elated the darkness, clouding his chestnut orbs in a magnificent kind of way, as one hand crawled up from upon your waist, and clasped the curve of your blushed cheek. His calloused thumb traced a thing of gentle affection, stroking the soft complexion in a timid manner, and that flock of butterflies found themselves satisfied with their numbingly strong fluttering, crawling upon your skin in a matter of nerves and anxiousness. “Well,” He spoke, glancing adoringly between your eyes. From one to the other, as though he couldn’t quite believe you to be smitten within his hold, reciprocating his feelings so endlessly. The warmth of his adorning breath fanned the supple part of your gaped lips, expectant; waiting. “Best go put on your shoes, then, aye?” He whispered.

And with that, he was gone. Hoisting you up, as he stumbled to his feet, and his expression elated a smile. He squeezed twice on your shoulders, humoured by such a frown, and he swooped down to collect his jacket from the floor. “Go on,” He said, “We’re off on a walk.”

“We are?” You echoed, a slight distance woven within your tone.

Johnny smiled, “We are, Love.” He said, and he barreled himself through the arms of his coat.

You paused, be it only a moment, as gentle tufts of hair drifted upon his forehead, and he brushed them back, a toothy grin etched upon his face. He stretched up, an arch to his back, and muttered a; “Go on! It’s raining, you’ll get your feet wet if you don’t.” With a hustle, and a small shove to your shoulders.

Frowning, you found your feet drifting you to the corner of the room - he’d gone mad. It was decided. Though, perhaps, you thought; you were just as crazy as he. For why else would you slip on your shoes, and throw on a jacket, hanging up on the wall hooks? Without another thought of hesitation, you shoved it all on, and you regained your full height, a little breathless - unfortunately so - and met the uneven smirk that was utterly Johnny’s.

He clapped his hands together, a soft connection, and rubbed them slightly, bounding to the door before you both, and swinging open the darkened oak. Neither you, nor he, bothered to dismantle the blaring illuminant that was the television, as he awaited the passing breeze of yourself.

You wandered him by, mind a whir of incoherent thoughts, though one - one in particular - stood out, among the others. He hadn’t said it back.

The weight of his arm, curled around the crease of your shoulders, brought you away from such a thought, and you had hardly noticed the few tender steps you had traced. “You smell nice.” Johnny said, a slight smile to his tone, “Fruity.” You merely grinned something small, and rolled your eyes. Ever the strange one.

“You’re sure you haven’t had any of that wine before?” You jested, “On the way over, perhaps?”

He smiled, something soft, as his free hand fumbled within his depthful pocket, and his gaze found his shoes. “The cheap stuff gives me indigestion.” He smirked, “Didn’t want the heartburn.”

“Ah,” You breathed, “I suppose that does make sense.”

You approached the stairwell, poised to the end of the depressingly dim hallway, and watched as he bounced upon every step, no longer wedged beside you, but rather bounding upon the echoing chorus of the descending metal. His hair, naturally dried from a drizzle of cooling rain, flowed - up, and down - in a majestic kind of motion, as a subtle giggle fell from you, and your legs maneuvered a slight jog, to catch up with his waiting frame.

He stood, slick with a grin, at the door, his arm a barricade upon its weight, as you muttered a curt thanks, and you stumbled into the waft of approaching crisp. The winter chill embraced your figure - a sudden movement, as it trailed from your toes, to your hips, to your finger-tips, and your nose - and you draped your hands within the depthful pockets of your dark coat. You shuddered - Heavens, was it freezing - and you clenched your jaw, spat with a sprinkle of dainted moisture, as the clouds shed their supple solemness.

“It’s beautiful, don’t you think?” Johnny muttered, striding to that of a similar pace, as his hands, too, found the inner comfort of his pockets, and his arm brushed with yours. You warmed at the touch, though not by much, and you simply assumed it was all in your head, dismissive for the sudden heat. “The night.” He continued. “There’s just something about it.”

You turned, gaze fixated upon the gorgeous glow of his sculpted features, contorted with a content smile, orbs fluttered upon the scenery before you both, unmoving, and entirely comfortable. Happy, you dared to notice. And as were you. “I know what you mean.” You mumbled, a saddened grin to quiver upon the corners of your lips, though you simply couldn’t force it’s obtain, as it fell, and your eyes found the floor. He hadn’t said it back.

“It’s like-” He paused, tongue winding upon his lips, and his eyebrows furrowed momentarily. “It’s like the whole world is asleep.” He smiled. “It’s not, but it feels less… Alive.”

You breathed a gentle laugh. “Like it’s only you.” You mumbled, “Without the pressure, and the judgement.” There was a subtle nod, as he brushed the fallen hair from within his vision.

“I know how to be myself, when the moon’s my only company, y’know?” He admitted, nibbling the tender flesh of his lower lip, as his gaze darted, between the street, to the tree, to the housing scattered around. “Like whatever happens, under the stars, it-” He paused, he let out a breathy chuckle, and continued: “It won’t matter in the morning.” You simply nodded, as he opened his mouth, a stuttered mumble falling from his tongue, and your silence remained, for you knew he was not quite finished. “I just- I-” He paused, another shaky exhale, and your eyebrows furrowed. He scratched the lower-crown of his hair, ruffling it, slightly, with a nervous chuckle. “I don’t want-” He frowned, gulping, and continued: “I don’t want tonight to be one of those nights.”

Your furrow seemed to deepen, the words falling before you found yourself able to grapple them. “What do you mean?” You mumbled, a gentle cloud upon the frozen nightlife.

“Look, I think-” He sighed, pausing mid-step, and standing, amidst the weighted rain, as it grew heavier, and you simply grew wetter. You paused, expression contorted with a slight confusion, dribbled with copious droplets that you didn’t bother to brush away. “I think I could dote on the darkness, forever and a day.” He said, and you frowned. You wondered just quite where he was going with such, though failed to interrupt his continuance, as he spoke, soft, among the patterning rainfall, draping upon the concrete with a rhythmic dance. “But it’s not-” He caught himself, one more, as another nervous laugh trickled from his dampened lips. Verbal gold, it surely was. “None of it - it’s not- it’s not as, uh, captivating, as you.”

Your chest fell woozy with a supple ache, furrow one of grave compassion, and he glanced, hesitantly, with a curt removal, to your expression. You smiled, a glaze of sorrow melting from upon those amorous features. Captivating. He thought you were captivating. “And I think you- uhm-” He coughed, a slight smile to catch the corner of his lips. “I think you taught me to love, again.” He mumbled, head-up tilted, as his warm, genuine, gaze, infiltrated your own.

“Oh?” You grinned, truthfully unable to rupture the flutter of great tingles, encasing your shivering complexion - a certain warmth cursing throughout your frozen blood.

He laughed, a glance of something shy to his shoes, and he nodded. “Yeah.” He mumbled, returning to meet your joyous expression. “And I think I’d like to dote on you, instead.”

“In what way?” You muttered, mocking for his previously sly commentary, a gratuitous - particularly brazen - step closer, to the grinning man, as his hands, slightly coaxed by a pink chill, from the breeze of winter's embrace, draped upon the clothed fabric of your hips.

He drew a step closer, your shoes toe to toe, and he spoke - dangerously low; nauseatingly rich. “In any way you’ll let me.” He smirked. And, well, that seemed quite enough for you.

There was a certain warmth about it - the capture of your supple lips upon the soft flesh of his own, molded wondrously to a hymn the Angels could never know. Eyes fluttered to a gentle close, engulfed with a sprinkle of vanishing warmth; the rain no longer seemed to matter. For you were clothed, slick like a second skin, in the thick moisture of everlasting water - wet, to the very bone - but no longer did you shiver, no longer did you tremble, with the ache of a chilling night. The pressure was timid, and the exploration a motion utterly anew - yet so beautifully divine, so entirely right.

Your fingers - pink, and bitterly numb, in themselves - wove to clutch upon the lapels of his cotton jacket, a clutch of passion, and of longing, to emancipate the wondrous flutter in the depth of your gut. It twisted, it turned, it ached, it shrieked - you felt ill. Ill with the fever of amorous recipricance and a lover so sickly sweet, you felt you’d awake with cavities, in the later morn. You liked that thought, as your head tilted, be it only slight, to the side, and he followed your subtle retreat. Like honey, did he taste; like gold, did he display. And, oh, if this was love - if this, two lovers combined amongst the ache of winter’s cue - you decided that it was, undoubtedly, real. It was real, not a mere description of romanticised fiction. No. No; it was the golden sunlight, woven between your very hands; it was the melody of the birds, so suppley sweet; the dew upon the whispered grass, a lick of crisped morning; the enticing ferociousness of the oceanic waves, an azure of alluring power; the liquid gold, to drip from a Poet’s pen, woven beneath the tongue of their romantic thoughts - Oh, it were all that, and more. So much more.

And, as his feeble smile fluctuated upon his bowed lips, and his fragile hold - something so gentle, upon the flush of your frozen cheek, you hardly noticed the grace of movement, thumb brushed beneath your fluttered eyes - draped across your features, you found yourself discovering all that it ever could be.

His tongue, though warm, and tender, slithered something slow upon the breach of your lower lip, and your cheeks furrowed a blossoming grin. Parting your lips, subtly, you allowed the delicate invasion of a gratifying, sweet, pressure, as the flesh ran along the side of your tongue, and you encased it within a frail suck, withdrawing from such an entanglement for hardly a moment. You inhaled a particularly deep breath, unfinished and wondrously interrupted, as his lips found yours once more, a collision of teeth, and of grinning hearts, and he craned upon your stature, a barricade to crawl along the base of your lower back. The soft slosh of clapped fabric wove amongst the rainfall, and a breathy chuckle harmonized from upon your lips, himself ridden with a gorgeous grin; chest-to-chest, with a kind of warmth you had never before known cursing throughout the very complexion that was your own, as your bodies collided, and his strength held you close.

You inhaled the scent, familiar, though certainly different, and it tingled the depth of your nostrils - like woodland, and a subtle cologne. It seemed raw, so ravenously close, and your lips twitched upward at the thought. Oh, how you loved him. It ached your smitten chest, as he moulded his lips upon your own, and your movement harmonized something bitterly perfect, and it combusted among your soul. It tore the very sense you once held, from within your capacity, and it brushed such necessity beneath the carpet; for what was sense to a girl in love?

Nothing. All that made sense was him - was he - and you yearned to know it all; every crevice, every dent, for the rest of your days. Forever seemed a long time, though life so awfully short. To spend forever, a faux illusion of endless measures, by his side - it spread a warmth, such burning heat, throughout your tender frame, and you ached to know the script of every moment spent together, all until every moment were merely a memory, with nothing left to come.

His feathered affection fell to a tender null, a lingering pause to disperse upon the gape of your swollen mouth, and he draped a peppered peck upon the very corner, withdrawing from such an intertwined proximity. You fluttered your gaze to meet his own - a stare of saturated honey; of every nightfall; of every poetic tale - and he smiled. A smile, so incredibly warm, you found yourself unable to withhold the reciprocance, as a timid blush crawled upon the complexion of your grinning features, and your eyes retained their strengthful embrace.

For the bitter breeze had returned, and your lips were falling cold, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered - not the howl of brash wind, curling within your locks, and whipping the hood of your coat; the ache of layered rain, as it pattered, continually, upon the distilled world around; the treacherous ache of all things nauseatingly woozy, engulfing your frame in an intensely warm ambiguity - unfamiliar, though entirely welcome. None of it mattered - not as you drowned within the softness of his adoring gaze.

Adoring, you thought; oh, did he adore you? “I love you.” He mumbled, a quiet crackle upon the pattern of rain, though you caught it - oh, did you catch it, clutched within the fragile hold of your softened heart, ached with the pressure of convicting ribs, it cried for freedom, for home; for Johnny. A smile, so genuine, so utterly enticed; joyous, draped upon your lips, and the corners of your glimmering eyes fell to a crease. He loved you. He breathed a gentle chuckle, soggy arms curled upon that of your shoulders, as he drew you close - so unimaginably close - and he clutched your warmth upon his own. “God,” He breathed, his cheek slumped upon the crown of your head, down-tilted, and soaked with the cold of splattered rain. “I love you.”

Arms draped across his middle, clutched upon his lower back - you ached from the cold, though you minded it not - as you smiled, and you breathed the only response you felt acceptable. “I know.” You said.

“And I’ll give you the sun.” He continued, a mere rumble upon the quiet noise. “Indulge me, and I’ll give you the sun, ray, by fucking ray.”

Oh, how you ached for such sonerous truth - for you knew he would never lie to you.

#johnny depp #johnny depp x reader #jd x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic #young johnny depp #johnny depp fanfiction #aw #they do be cute

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fandomnetworks · 4 years ago

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MILK RUN

PART 1

Summary: As you’re getting used to your new apartment, our favorite DEA agents are assigned to check up on you from time to time. Only, one of the DEA agents is nicer than the other.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Word Count: 2K

Carrillo knocked on the open door that led into your brother's office, the president's office. He stepped in without pausing for a reply, you lingering behind him.

Your brother sat behind his desk while two towering men hovered over him. One of them was a tall white man with a mustache, his left hand running through his air. The other man was tanner; a distinct mustache also cemented on top of his upper lip. The three seemed to be entertained with papers across the desk.

All three gazed towards the door. First, they saw Carrillo, his broad body obstructing your view. But then you pushed to the side, "Y/n!" Cesar stood up and dumped the papers that were in his hands. He passed Carrillo and gave you a lasting hug. In return, you hugged him but not as lovingly, irritated at him since he had you caged in like a bird.

Once he let go, he glanced back at both men who were staring at your interactions, "Muchahos, this is my sister, Y/n." Cesar made his way to his desk.

Both men acquainted themselves as Steve Murphy and Javier Peña. You noted that both men were handsome, but Steve had a band occupying his left ring finger.

"Hi," You timidly smiled at both men, feeling all eyes on you, "can I talk to you?" You directed Cesar, not knowing what else to say.

"First, I need to settle some things," He motioned for the four of you to take a seat in front of his desk.

Once settled, Cesar began his speech, "As we all know, Escobar's men have been abducting high ranking women for a while now. My sister is one of them." You rolled your eyes and achieved a chuckle from Murphy. "But now that Escobar is in prison, I think it time to loosen the chains."

You liked where this was going, "Wait, you're saying I ca-"

Your brother lifted his hand, trying to silence you, "I have made some arrangements, and with an empty apartment in the same building as these men. Noonan agreed that the two of you" he looked at the DEA agents, "should check up on Y/n from time to time."

His words were music to your ears.

Freedom.

Freedom to an extent, but it was still freedom.

Some rules were laid out, but it was nothing you couldn't manage. One of the main things that stuck out was that you couldn't go out in the evening unless Peña or Murphy took you or one of Carrillo's men.

Standing up, you went over to your brother's desk and hugged him, a little more festive than when you had first entered, whispering a heartfelt thank you.

In the interim, the other men stood up and discussed among themselves while you wrapped up your conversation with Cesar.

It had been a week since you relocated into the new apartment. It took approximately three full days to unpack and furnish your new home. Steve had been the only one to come check up on you every night before he went to his apartment to Connie. Connie had become a close friend of yours. Multiple times a day, you would both visit each others' apartments. The two of you would chat about life back in America, what you missed the most, and really just talking about anything. Her adoptive daughter, Olivia, had taken a liking to you as well; she'd give you her toys whenever you'd go over.

Tonight you knew for a fact that Connie and Steve were going out on a date, and Steve wouldn't be doing his daily routine to come check up on you.

You hadn't seen Peña since you last visited your brother, and you didn't expect him to be coming. You and Connie had gone earlier to get some sweet bread, but as the night rolled in, you noted there was no milk to go alongside.

No one would notice you left your house at 8, right?

You picked up your purse and keys and walked out of the building, only going to the convenience store down the store. You'd grab milk and some eggs for tomorrow's breakfast, and slip back into your apartment as if nothing happened.

You passed by a few stores and restaurants in order to reach the convenience store.

----

Javier Peña sat at a bar, drinking away his thoughts, a beautiful woman on his right. He and she knew well how the night would end. She would be in his bed by midnight and be gone before sunrise. He should be ashamed of these habits, but in reality, he found comfort when there were women in his bed. For just those few hours, there was nothing but the lucky lady and him.

Peña happened to look up towards the bar's entrance, see your face passing by, and your hair flowing behind you. He didn't think much as he stood up in a fury. He and Murphy did not just spend a whole week trying to keep you safe, only for you to break one of the only rules your brother put in place.

Peña laid some money on the bar and walked off, apologizing to the woman for the abrupt absence.

He silently followed behind you, making sure to make no noise. He noticed you were walking with a light step to your feet. The creamy silk blouse that wrapped around your back was loose as it swayed with the soft wind of the night. He was gaining ground, and now he was just a few feet behind you. You were oblivious to what was happening behind you, which only made Peña even more enraged.

He was three feet away...then two...he was just inches away now.

----

You felt someone push your body up against the brick wall, your face being slapped onto it, and your hand being twisted behind your back. A sharp yelp left your lips, and your heart didn't know how to handle the adrenaline. It was beating as fast as it ever had, and you felt like it would collapse at any minute.

"What are you doing out?" A gruff voice asked as he leaned against you. His face near your ear, giving you goosebumps. You could smell alcohol in his words.

You recognized the manly voice but from where?

"Answer." He tighten his grip on your forearm, waiting for a reply.

Then it hit you, "Peña?" You tried turning to look at his face, but only until he loosened his grip could you entirely turn and look at the man. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" You shoved his chest to try and get some space between the two of you.

He was quiet, waiting for your reply to his previous question. His nostrils flared and his eyes fixated on you/

You huffed and walked away, not wanting to deal with the DEA agent.

Peña followed you silently, not uttering another word.

You passed a few more stores before reaching the desired one and walked in, Peña a few feet away. Going straight towards the refrigerators at the end of the store, you went to open the door, but Peña beat you to it. His body was brushing up against yours as he grabbed the handle, opening it for you.

"Uh, thank you." You reached for the milk, turned behind, and realized how much closer he was then you expected.

Due to the nervousness you felt being watched by Peña so closely, you forgot about the eggs and went straight to pay. You placed the pint of milk on the counter and pulled your purse towards you in order to pay but were surprised to see Peña pull his wallet faster and handed the change to the elderly lady.

"Mira que bonita pareja! (Look, what a lovely couple!)" The lady said, handing Peña the change.

"No seño, ni me gusta. (No ma'am, I don't even like him)" You tried laughing the awkwardness off and looked at Peña to see an emotionless stare looking back at you. He picked up the carton and thanked her before walking back to the apartment.

During the walk, Peña led in front of you, waiting for you often when your short steps couldn't catch up to his long strides. The walk was so silent; you swear you could hear the faint music of a party that was going on, on the other side of town.

In a few short minutes, you were back in the building and heading up the stairs. You expected Peña to depart to his apartment next to yours or go back to whatever hellhole he climbed out of. But to your astonishment, he remained behind you as you fumbled with the keys until you obtained the right one.

Once inside, Peña set the milk on the counter and looked at you. "You went out for some fucking milk?" He bombarded, letting what he had inside out. "You risked your life for fucking milk?" His long steps reached you, where you still stood at the doorway.

"Fuck off." You stepped to the side and walked into the kitchen.

"Y/n!" He grabbed your forearm for the second time that night. You hated to admit it, but his cologne alongside the sweat he had accumulated throughout the day gave off the best odor you have ever smelled your whole life. If it weren't for how rude he was, you would have leaned in closer to get a better smell.

You took a second to question your thoughts. You just admitted to yourself you would smell Peña. What the fuck were you? A dog? Maybe you should ask Carrillo to formally invite you to work alongside the canines during a raid.

Plus, you would not be thinking about him like that.

"Are you even listening to me?" You jogged your train of thought back to the present and saw a red-faced Peña standing in front of you.

"I wanted milk, sorry." Your sarcastic tone did not help ease Peña's anger. "Why the hell do you care so much, anyway?" Going to one of the cabinet's you got a cup and filled it with the milk.

He gave a heavy sigh and began to walk towards the door, "Just don't go out again, ok?"

You offered him a tight grin and watched his body retreat towards the door.

Just as he was about to leave, a voicemail on the receiver was left,

"Listen, little girl, next time you leave me waiting like you did tonight, I will kill you. Do you understand? I will fucking kill you."

You closed your eyes shut, hoping in God's name Peña was too far to overhear it.

"Who the fuck is that?" Peña came striding into the room again, his face fixated on anger, his jaw tighten as he waited for a reply. His eyes were tired but thoroughly scanning your face for any sign of distress or upsetness.

You opened your eyes and made eye contact with Peña, but soon looked down shamefully. You twirled the cup of milk in your hands, "He's someone I used to go to school with, back in la prepa. I thought I'd give him a second chance." You went digging inside the paper bag that contained the sweet bread. "Turns out, he's still a prick." You looked up to see his eyes trained on you, hoping you'd elaborate.

For a few seconds, the two of you just stared at each other, not knowing what to say.

Breaking the silence, his first question was, "Does he know where you live?" His voice was laced with less anger this time.

"He knows where my last apartment was. I highly doubt he knows I'm here now."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" There he goes, raising his voice for the millionth time that night.

"He's a nobody, that's why. He's just doing it for attention. We met up a few days ago, but I realized he's the same guy as before. He hasn't changed. When he asked me on another date, I felt bad to say no, so I agreed. But I never planned to go." You took your bread and milk in your hands and walked towards the dining table. "I guess I pushed the wrong buttons."

PART 3

lmk if you want to be added to the list:

luvzoria

#Javier Peña x reader #Javier pena x reader #narcos #narcos imagines #Pedro pascal x reader #Pedro pascal #horacio carrillo #Horacio carrillo x reader

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strangeinternetwasteland · 4 years ago

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Shattered Reality- Chapter1

A/N: This is a request for a Gojo Satoru Jujustu Kaisen Modern Mafia AU. It will be a few chapters long and hopefully turns out well

WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, hangover, swearing, sex, getting handsy

Word Count: 3.5k

The beat thumping throughout the club could be heard outside. Standing in line was torture, never knowing if you’d get in or not. The hottest nightclub was only a few blocks from your apartment. The Temptation, it was called.You weren’t really sure as to why they called it that, but everyone that had been said it was a fitting name. You were lucky the club had opened in the summer, standing in line in the cold would have been hell. There was a cool edge to the night that made a shiver run down your back. Looking down at your phone, you tried to message your friend,Kioko, for the 20th time in just as many minutes. You were impatient to say the least. You shifted your weight from one foot to another.

“Hey! Y/N!” A woman called from a car, as she stepped out revealing her low cut yellow dress, you suddenly felt under dressed and self conscious, looking at your best friend. She was beautiful, you couldn’t deny that. She stood at 5’ 7” (170cm), had curly brown hair, and golden eyes, that when they hit the sun just right, they looked like molten gold.

“You look so amazing in that green dress, love.” Kioko chirped. Her brilliant smile glowed brighter in the night. “Well, let’s head inside.” She grabbed your hand and yanked you out of line.

“Kioko, I was line for over an hour. We can’t just go walking in there.” You protested. She rolled her eyes at you and giggled.

“Oh, you’re so cute. I told you to be here at exactly 8 pm.” Her energetic personality was infectious but you were still worried.

The bouncer was a big man, he towered over everyone, and wore a severe grimace on his face. This didn’t affect Kioko at all. He made you cower inward involuntarily.

“Hi Remi! Me plus 1.” She told the man. He nodded and let the two of you pass.

“Woah, he just let you in like that?” You asked in awe.

“Well, yeah. My family owns the club. I can get in whenever I want. I will have them add your name on the permanent list.” She said nonchalantly.

‘The Temptation belonged to her family?!?’ You thought to yourself. Kioko was your best friend, but she never hinted at the fact that she was rich. She was easily the most down to earth person you had ever met.

She gave you another one of her easy smiles and pulled you along. The music of the club was deafening and full of bass, but the actual inside was more immaculate than you could have ever imagined. There were waiters and waitresses bustling around to the different tables. There were three levels to the club.

The first floor was mostly the dance floor and two bars, with a few tables. The second floor had booths and more recessed seating for those who wanted to just enjoy the darkness. The top floor had a few private rooms for VIP guests.

You couldn’t believe how the rumors of the club did it no justice. Just ahead of you stood Kioko talking to a tall dark haired man you had seen a handful of times. He was Kioko’s brother, Geto.

“Geto, I don’t know if you remember, but this is Y/N.” Kioko introduced you officially to her brother. He glanced over your body once before settling on your face He smiled, reaching a hand out toward you.

“Yes, I remember that face. It’s nice to officially meet you, and see you again. You’re looking as lovely as ever.” He gently took your hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. You blushed at this intimate gesture.

“Geto, leave her alone. She’s easily embarrassed.” Kioko defended you.

“Well, I think it’s cute. Enjoy yourself, my dear. If there is anything you need or desire, feel free to let someone know and we’ll try to grant your request.” He said before walking away. You were left dumbfounded and a bit confused.

“Sorry about him, he flirts with everyone. He thinks he’s so suave.” Kioko said invading your thoughts. You watched him walk away to the other side of the club and talk to another person. You absently followed Kioko trying to figure out exactly if Geto was being serious or just flirting to flirt. You decided that it was probably the latter and didn’t dare think twice about it.

“Hey, Sukuna!” Kioko’s voice squeaked. This was something new to you. Kioko was always cheery, but she never really expressed any interest in anyone. Judging how high her voice went you could tell she was interested in the bartender.

“Hey, Kioko. What can I get for you and your friend this evening?” He shot a devilish smile and your friend. This caused her to smile, and her knees to buckle slightly.

“Well...You are the bartender, what do you recommend?” She asked him as she twirled a strand of her hair. You tried not to act awkward with the situation unfolding before you. You knew that Kioko was a flirt, but seeing her turn into mush around a guy made you feel dirty. You turned your attention to the dance floor, deciding that looking anywhere else would be best. You heard a giggle erupt from Kioko, and it was sickening to you. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath and released it trying to make the best of the situation.

“I think Kioko likes him.” A sexy voice interrupted your thoughts. You opened your eyes and turned your attention to where the voice came from. There was a man lounging against the bar with white hair, and he was wearing sunglasses. ‘In the dark club, you’re wearing sunglasses?’ You asked yourself. You noticed that he had the longest legs you’d ever seen. You were probably a good foot (31 cm) shorter if you had to guess.

“I am going to make fun of them. Just watch.” The white haired man said.

“Hey! You two, I’d say there was a VIP room available but Sukuna has a job he has to do. Maybe you could keep it in your pants until after your shift?” He teased the couple. A hearty laugh erupted from Sukuna. Kioko flushed with embarrassment, something that you’ve never seen before.

“Gojo, why are you teasing me? Don’t you have some woman to harass?” Kioko retorted.

“I don’t harass them. I am a gentleman, they come on to me. I cannot help that.” He laughed.

“Sure. Whatever you say, Gojo. What do you want?” Kioko asked in annoyance. He brightly smiled at Kioko, and patted her head.

“Why are you wearing sunglasses in a dark club?” You interrupted. Gojo turned his brilliant smile to you. He pulled his sunglasses down slightly, revealing the most marvelous cerulean eyes you’d ever seen. Your breath caught in your throat. He stood to his full height.

“Well, you see, little one, it’s because I want too.” He patted your head too. He turned his attention back to Kioko. “To answer your question, Kio, my bartender isn’t serving the drinks to our guests. He is too busy flirting with you, princess.” He teased Kioko. You could see Kioko’s anger growing.

“Don’t call me that. I hate it! Sorry, that I think your bartender is hot, and am trying very hard to get into his pants.” She hissed back at Gojo. This only amused him more.

“Well, you know, I could let you two go off together for a few minutes, but then I’d have to tend the bar. Plus, your friend here, she’d be left alone to all these sharks. Particularly, your brother. He seems rather interested in her. I can’t blame him entirely, though.” Gojo told them his eyes looking over your body.

“Gojo. Name your price.” Kioko shot at him. He paused a moment to think.

“You know, I love annoying or making Geto mad.” He amused aloud.

“Fine, whatever. I’ll go along with whatever your plan is...Please, just give us ten minutes.” She begged him.

“Not just you, I want your friend. I am sorry what’s your name?” He asked looking at you.

“Y/N.” You replied, with a bit of hesitation in your voice.

“Y/N needs to help too.” Gojo demanded. Kioko’s eyes met yours. She was pleading silently to you to agree with this plan. You couldn’t tell her no, not after all the charity, and kindness she showed you.

“Alright, I’m in.” You told them. Kioko squealed with giddiness, grabbed Sukuna’s wrist and pulled him in the direction of the stairs. Gojo walked behind the bar and started preparing a drink. After a few minutes, he placed the concoction before you.

“Here. It’s not overwhelming with the taste of alcohol. It’s more sweet than bitter.” He told you. You reluctantly took the glass in your hand and sipped. You were surprised at how sweet the drink was. It was quite pleasing. You were a bit impressed.

“Gojo, where is Sukuna? He should be the one tending the bar.” Geto’s voice was flat.

“He’s in the bathroom. He was telling me had eaten some hot wings with ranch dressing for lunch, and you know how his stomach can be.” Gojo stated. Geto looked around and noticed you sitting at the bar by yourself.

“Where is Kioko?” He asked you. You didn’t want to lie, you had to try to play it as cool as Gojo had. This was the plan you did agree to after all, or so you thought.

“Oh, some rando came up to her asking her to dance. He was whispering sweet nothings in her ear. She can’t resist a man who says all the right things.” You tell Geto. The look on his face went from neutral to utter disgust within a few seconds, it was laughable, but you kept your face still.

“That’s too much. He better not lay a finger on her or I will break his whole fucking arm.” Geto threatened. His eyes searched the dance floor for Kioko, but he lost interest after a second. His attention focused on you.

“Well, if Gojo’s done trying to take advantage of you, would you like to dance?” Geto asked. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Kioko returning, her hair a bit disbelieved but her makeup was immaculate. You felt a weight lift off your shoulders.

“Hey, princess, how was your dance with Prince Charming?” Gojo questioned her giving a look. She picked up the hint, and gave an eye roll.

“Boring, wanna go tear up the dance floor, Y/N?” She offered you. You shook your head in agreement and pulled her a little too quickly to the dance floor. You felt two sets of eyes lingering on you. You brought the two of you deeper into the mass of dancers. You didn’t exactly feel like dancing at this moment.

“Ki, can I ask you something?” You hoped she’d be straightforward with you.

“Sure, what’s up?” She replied.

“Did you say anything about me to your brother? He asked me to dance. I mean he threatened to break a fake dude’s arm. He’s kind of scary. Does he know about you and Sukuna?” Your questions rained down on her.

“Woah. Okay yeah, Geto can be a little intense. He’s super protective for no reason, maybe its our dad, I don’t really know. I did tell him I was bringing my cute friend to the club tonight. He doesn’t know about Sukuna and I. I mean Gojo does, obviously.” She answered honestly.

“Oh, okay. How do you know Gojo? How does your brother? I mean I didn’t even know that you even were rich before tonight. You’re one of the coolest, down to earth people I’ve ever met.” You wanted to know everything you could.

“Well, Gojo and Geto are bffs. I mean they grew up together. My dad didn’t want us to be complete assholes and stuck up snobs so he sent us to public school. Gojo is like another brother to me.” She told you.

“Sorry, I have so many questions.” You were ashamed. You really just wanted to know the truth. You felt like you were being intrusive.

“Don’t apologize, N/N. Really. You’re my best friend, I don’t want there to be secrets between us. I do want you to know that I don’t want Geto to know about Sukuna and I at all, if you could not tell him, that would be great.” She was definitely going to hold you to that promise. Honestly, you wanted to press for more information from here.

“Let’s go somewhere else quieter where we can talk.” She took you by the wrist and brought you to a VIP room. The thundering music from outside could still be heard, but it was so muted that you could have an actual conversation in the room. Then it dawned on you, that this was probably where Kioko took Sukuna to have sex and you were slightly disgusted being in the room. Your face must’ve given away your thoughts.

“Oh, no these aren’t the rooms for sex. Those are across the hall. They have light switches and other options for making the mood just right.” Kioko stated. A waitress came in and delivered drinks to you and promptly left. You took a swig of the drink. It was the same drink Gojo had served you. You smiled slightly at the thought.

“Okay, Y/N. I have to know, please be honest, but I’ve never seen Gojo give any girl any sort of attention.” Kioko gushed, settling down into the plush couch. You really didn’t think twice about your interaction with Gojo. He was a family friend of Kioko’s and was friendly.

“Um, okay. I don’t know. He was just friendly.” You said to her unsure of what she wanted to know.

“Okay. I grew up with Gojo. One, he’s never just gone up to a woman and started talking to her for no reason. Two, he’s never even thought twice about showing anyone those baby blues. Three, he doesn’t ever, and I mean EVER, want more than one person in on his pranks with Geto. Four, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Fifth, he never gave two fucks in learning anyone’s name.” Kioko counted the reasons on her fingers. You didn’t know what was considered normal for him, since you had just met him. You blushed slightly thinking it was ridiculous that he was even paying you that much attention.

“Ki, I think you’re reading too much into it. I mean I don’t know the guy, and I know you grew up with him, but I think he was just being friendly.” You chewed on your lip feeling nervous for no reason. You distracted yourself by taking another drink of your beverage. “Besides, what’s up with Geto? What did you exactly tell him about me?” Kioko took a drink.

“Okay, please don’t be mad.” She took a deep breath in. Whenever she started with this you knew whatever was going to follow would’ve been either a ridiculous lie, or something similar. “I told him that my cute friend was going to come to the club tonight. That you had wanted to come since it opened, but I didn’t want to be here cause he owns it. I didn’t want him to be super annoying or overprotective or any of that stupid shit that he does. So he asked me more questions about you, you know, what you like, what kind of alcohol you enjoyed, how long we’ve known each other, what you looked like. I mean. Stupid things ya know.” She took another drink. “So I told him we met in our freshman year in high school. We had a few classes together. We became fast friends. I told him you enjoyed drawing, and practicing martial arts, and occasionally reading in your free time. You didn’t drink often, but when you did it was usually something a bit sweeter and fruity. Then I showed him a bunch of photos of us together throughout the years. He didn’t give any hint of anything. He asked your name, and I told him. I literally didn’t think twice about it since he’s always like that.”

“Ki, I don’t care. He’s your brother. He’s looking out for you I am sure. If I were your sister I’d do the same.” You reassured her. Honestly, you couldn’t blame her. There was nothing to blame her for, even if the meeting left a sick feeling in the back of your mind. You pushed the uneasiness away. Kioko changed the subject to something lighter. For the next few hours, you drank and planned your summer vacation together. Imagined what it would be like the last year of college, and giggled over boys. The two of you were intoxicated.

“Y/N...Did I ever tell you?” Kioko’s words slurred together. You were trying to walk out of the VIP room, but it was unsuccessful. You both fell in a pile on the floor in a fit of laughter.

“You did!” You giggled and shouted at the same time. Not really sure what the conversation was about, but the happy light feeling you felt from the alcohol and good night with your friend probably didn’t help you understand any better. There was a knock at the door which caused the two of you to laugh hysterically.

“Come in!” Kioko tried whispering but ended up screaming it anyway. Geto appeared at the door looking very serious and upset. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“I thought you left hours ago. You are totally inebriated. How irritating and irresponsible of you, Kio.” He chastised her. You tried standing up as straight as you could, and walked, more like stumbled, toward Geto. You got right in his face, he could smell the mix of alcohol and sweetness on your breath.

“Look here, asshole. We are best friends. You can take that stick you have shoved up your ass and pull it out. You don’t get to yell at her. I don’t get to yell at her. No one gets to yell at her.” You were poking Geto’s chest as hard as you could. Kioko stood as still as she could, and stared right at you. You felt so brave with all this alcohol in your system. “She is her own person. She can make her own decisions, you don’t own her. She doesn’t need your judgments, you annoying judge man.” You saw Geto smile, and it sickened you to look at it. You felt the bile rise in your throat the longer he stayed there. Kioko’s shrill laugh broke the silence, and Geto turned to leave shaking his head.

“You told him!” Kioko said, still laughing as she threw one finger in air. “Fuck you bitches!” She yelled out the door behind him. She calmed herself down a bit before looking at you asking, “Who was that?” You shrugged at her and started laughing all over again forgetting about the feeling Geto left you with.

After 15 minutes, which to you and Kioko felt like two hours, Gojo and Sukuna arrived. The two of you were in hysterics over the question of elephants having teeth. They handed you two bottles of water.

“Alright ladies, have no fear your prince is here.” Sukuna had told you both. “We need to drink this up pointing to the water.” Sukuna had managed to pick up and wrap Kioko’s arms around his waist. She smiled brightly at him.

“Are you taking me home? I’ll gladly go home with you.” She told Sukuna.

Gojo held out a hand for you to grab onto to pull yourself up. You didn’t know how drunk you truly were until you realized that you weren’t holding Gojo’s hand at all, but grabbed his crotch instead. Under normal circumstances, you’d’ve been embarrassed. You held onto him a lot longer than you should’ve.

“Damn, why is your hand so soft?” You asked out loud. You really couldn’t control the volume of your voice at all. Sukuna turned to look at the commotion you were causing and just laughed.

“Here, how about you take my hand instead of squeezing my dick? Unless, you’re planning on something a little more intimate.” Gojo teased you with a wink.

“Damn, Gojo. Finally getting some action!” Sukuna teased. Both men were laughing, when Kioko decided to join in and in turn you as well. The laughing fit kept up after you two were placed inside a random car to go home. You didn’t really notice the twists or turns that the car had followed along the way, nor the person who was driving the car. You just sat back and let the car take you away. The rest of the evening you weren’t able to recall.

Next>>

#saturo gojo #gojo x reader #modern au #mafia au #ocs #geto suguru

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catxsnow · 4 years ago

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W(H)INE T.D.

Summary: Tim learns that drinking wine leads to revealing secrets about you.

Warning: Fluff, little-bitty angst, underage drinking

A/N: I’d love to know what you guys think! I’ve written a few large fics before but never imagines and I wanna know if I’m actually decent at them lol

GIF is not mine

Word count: 3k

You knew that Tim loved you.

You knew that no matter how many times he forgot about your plans or didn't do the things you asked of him that he still loved you. No, he didn't forget, Tim had an excellent memory which had often times come in handy for yourself. It was the fact that his second life sometimes over took his life with you.

So, as much as you knew that Tim loved you, you also knew that he loved his job as Robin just a little bit more.

And you couldn't blame him. The moment that Tim found out that Bruce Wayne was Batman and wiggled his way into the life of a vigilante, you were right by his side. If Bruce wanted to adopt Tim, then he was going to have to take you in as well (though not legally). He seemed to enjoy your corny jokes and childish laugh.

You had become friends with Tim from an early age and hadn't left his side since. You were with him through the death of his mother and he was with you through the hardships of your own. Tim was never surprised to see you with a frown on your face after a fight with you parents. He knew that you had never gotten along with them and that they had the tendency to make your life miserable. So when he moved into the Wayne Manor, it was your little saving grace too.

Whenever nights were hard at home, you would show up to the manor, often times drenched in rain and tears streaming down your face. It was always Alfred that would answer the door and while you showered, he would ensure that the guest room you claimed as your own was ready for your night's sleep.

Tim would be waiting for you on your bed and the moment you laid eyes on him you would collapse into his always open arms. He had always been there for you and you appreciated him for that. Not to mention that you also realized that your feelings for him were more than just friendly.

It had been on and off for a little while. You and Tim were trying to decide if a relationship was right for the both of you or if you should just stick to friendship. After months of going back and forth, you finally had enough of the games and decided that you loved him, you needed him, and most importantly, you had him.

Dating Tim was the best thing that had happened to you. It gave you even more time away from your home and parents, and brought you closer to the Wayne family. The moment you started dating Tim, you would no longer sleep in the guest room, but rather his bed. Bruce and Alfred were both aware of this little switch even though you tried to keep it under wraps.

It started as only once or twice a week, and then the whole weekend, and the next thing you knew you had practically moved in with them. You were so close to being an adult and the lack of attention that your parents gave you meant that it was easy to spend your time there. Bruce didn't mind - but he did have a very serious, very awkward chat with the both of you.

The thing that Tim loved most about sharing a bed with you, was that every night that he went out as Robin, he knew that he had something to look forward to for coming home. He knew that he had someone worth fighting for to get home. You were the reason that no matter what trouble he got himself into, he would always find a way out of it.

However, some days, you felt as if Tim cared more about his vigilante status than your relationship status. You knew that this was important to him, you knew that saving people in Gotham was the greatest accomplishment of his, and you supported him through every step of the way.

It was why when you missed him, you would two mugs of whatever hot beverage you were feeling that night down to him in the cave and spend time with him while he worked. Sometimes, you would break into the wine cellar to pour the two of you a couple glasses of wine. Bruce said that you were too young to drink but Alfred always helped pick out a bottle so you kept doing it.

That night, it had been a long day for you and you could only assume Tim felt the same, so you had decided on wine rather than coffee. Tim was down in the cave and Bruce was working late at Wayne Enterprises. But, while you poured the two glasses, you were surprised to see Jason walk in.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, setting the bottle down. You didn't know Jason very well, but knew his story almost too well. Tim tried his best not to remind you of his brutal death and that could just as easily happen to him. You tried not to think about it, but knowing that Tim might not make it back home to you terrified you more than anything.

After Jason came back to life and settled in with Roy and Kori, he made very few appearances at the Manor. To be honest, you couldn't blame him. Being there had to have reminded him of what his life used to be like. He was a different person than he used to be, at least that was what Bruce would tell you and Tim.

"I need to talk to Bruce," Jason looked equally confused that you were drinking. As far as he was aware, you were underage, not that age ever stopped him when he was young. Jason glanced around, though the manor was huge, it didn't sound like anyone else was home. "Are you drinking? On a Thursday?"

"Yes," You answered simply, taking a sip of the gorgeous red alcohol. You slid the second glass over the counter to him, which he accepted. He wasn't much a wine drinker but he couldn't let someone younger than him drink without him. "Bruce isn't here, he's at the tower. Not that this is my home, but you're welcome to stay. I haven't seen you for a while, Jason."

Jason only nodded. When he first met you, he just assumed that you were some girl that was dragging on Tim's arm because of the money. He was wrong, very wrong. After learning that you had a similar childhood to his, he quickly realized that you were a fighter. Though he never took the time to talk to you, he assumed you couldn't be that bad.

After thinking for a moment, Jason sat on the stool across from you. You didn't think that he would stay, he was never one to waste time with conversations that he didn't deem necessary. But, you enjoyed his company. As much as Bruce detested how Jason handled situations, you didn’t find him too bad.

You asked him about his time with the Outlaws, to which he told you these grand stories of things he had gone through. You never agreed with his methods, but you understood why he felt the need to do them. Gotham was the kind of city that would break you in half if you didn't fight back.

He asked you how Tim was doing. You dived maybe a little too deep into your relationship with him and details that Jason didn't need to know about - and didn't ask for. But, he didn't seem to be bothered by it. As much as he wished that Tim wasn't Robin after what had happened to him, he was glad that you were there for him. Dick had Barbra, and Jason, well, he had no one to comfort him after hard nights out.

Nearly two bottles later, you were a little tipsy and had learned more about Jason than you had your entire life. He decided that it was time to get going and that talking to Bruce would have to be done another night. "If you ever need anything, don't be shy to call," Jason told you. Even though you were quite a few years younger than him, he found it easy to relate.

"You too, Jay," You told him. "Maybe stop by more often, I think Tim would like to see you more too." Jason made no promises and headed towards the door. He paused for a moment and looked back at you.

“Tim’s lucky to have you. Keep him safe, yeah?”

“Of course.”

The moment you stood up from you chair, you felt a little bit dizzy and didn't realize you had drank so much. You shook the feeling off and carried the two glasses to the batcave.

Just as expected, Tim was still there, slaving over the computers. He heard you come in but didn't turn around from the screen. You set the two glasses down and wrapped your arms around him from behind. In the reflection of the screen, you could see the smile on his face. You pecked his cheek and then handed him the glass.

Tim still didn't turn away from the screen. He was far too engrossed into his research to give you the attention you so desired. So, you had taken the matter into your own hands. You set your own glass beside his and snaked under his arms so that you could completely wrap yourself around him while he sat in the chair.

You sat in his lap facing him with your legs dangling from the sides and your arms tightly snug around his waist. Without missing a beat, Tim straightened up so that you could snuggle into the crook of his neck. It wasn't the first time that you two sat like this and it surely wasn't going to be the last.

It was nearly twenty minutes that you stayed like that. Even in that cold cave, he always seemed to radiate heat and you were always there to soak it up. Tim loved when you were like this, just craving his touch and the utter need to be close to him even without talking to him.

When you looked up at him, the first thing he noticed were your flushed cheeks and glazy eyes. You had been drinking, not a lot, but enough that it made your face tinge pink. Tim didn't say anything but took a sip of his glass.

"Long night?" You asked.

"Better now that you're here," Tim admitted. He never said it, but he loved when you visited him while he worked. It made the time go by faster, even if most of the time you both worked in silence. "How many glasses have you had?"

"Jason stopped by," You answered. That in itself should have been sufficient enough for Tim to realize. Not to mention that Jason held his liquor way better than you, so while you were pretty tipsy he probably felt sober still. "I think he got me wine drunk so that he could talk about his feelings and assume I wouldn't blab to Bruce."

"What'd you guys talk about?" Tim asked.

"You," he raised an eyebrow. "About how much I love you, and the good things you do in this world and that no matter what I'm always going to be there for you even if sometimes I feel that you care about being Robin more than you care about me."

You didn't mean to say that. You kept your feelings hidden about him being Robin because you didn't want him to feel guilty for something that he was great at. You knew the moment the words left your mouth that it had taken him by surprise.

"(Y/N), you know that's not true," Tim set his glass down so that he could cup your face with both hands. You refused to meet his eye, worried about what he was going to say. "I'm Robin because I want to make this city a better place, I want to make if safe. Safe enough that one day we could have a family and not be worried about getting hurt."

You finally looked up into his eyes. They were filled with concern for you. "I love you, (Y/N). I have for a long time now and being Robin is never going to change that," Tim promised. He kissed your forehead, your nose, and finally your lips. "Why didn't you say this to me before?"

"Because I know you love this job, and I never wanted you to think that you had to choose it or me because that's not the case. I love that you're Robin and that you're brave enough to go fight that evil that lurks the streets. I just wonder sometimes that if I didn't practically live here if I would see you that often."

"I would make all the time in the world for you if that was what you wanted," Tim told you.

"You know that's not what I want," You answered him truthfully. You didn't want to take away this part of his life, never. "Just one normal night a week, even every two weeks is fine. Movies, pizza, wine, or whatever we're feeling for the night. I don't want to take away Robin from you, even if I could."

"That sounds perfect to me, my love," Tim kissed you once more. You guys had tried to maintain that once before but it didn't take long for the tradition to break and once a week turned into once a month, which gradually turned into a surprise maybe twice a year. This time was going to be different.

"Good, now come on," You dragged yourself away from him and instantly missed the warmth. "I'm already a bottle of wine in which means you need to catch up," you stuck your hand out for him to grab. He looked between you and the screen and nodded. Tim typed for a few seconds before grabbing your hand.

"You know Bruce doesn't like us drinking his wine," Tim reminded you as you walked hand in hand to the exit of the cave.

"It's not like he can't afford to replace them."

To no surprise, you woke up with a pounding headache. Once Tim agreed to leave the batcave, the two of you had drank for a long time after that. Besides the two bottle that you and Jason had gone through, you must have had another three, at least. Tim caught up and the two of you kept the liquor coming.

Tim was passed out beside you, he was stripped down to his boxers and splayed out with no blankets covering him. You on the other hand, only had his shirt to cover your body and all the blankets on the bed wrapped around you. He wasn't awake yet but you were sure that he was going to be in the same pain you were.

The small amount of light that shone through the blinds made you squint and if you could get up to close them the rest of the way, you would. Instead, you slowly tucked back away into the pillow and closed your eyes, hoping that the pain in your head would go away. It didn't.

You must have laid there for nearly and hour before you heard Tim groan. You rolled over to face him but he didn't say anything. You were right, the two of you had been the most hungover that you had been in your life. A wine hangover at that.

It was rare, very rare, that either of you ever had more than just one or two drinks, never more than one or two whole bottles. So, this feeling that resided in your head, your stomach, you weren't used to and you sure as hell didn't like it either. Tim had to have been feeling the same way.

Neither of you were making it to school that day and you couldn't believe that you were willing to drink that much on a weekday. It wasn't like either of you to miss class - then again, one day of not going wasn't going to hurt.

"Tim?" you whined. He was awake, but didn't dare open his eyes. Tim let out a noise that you assumed meant that he was listening to you. "Let's not do that again." Once again, he only grunted to agree. Tim rolled towards you and you couldn't tell if it was to avoid the light or because he wanted to cuddle.

Either way, you didn't mind.

Your little amount of peace didn't last long when Bruce came knocking on your door. He saw all the empty bottle in the kitchen and had known that it must have been you too. Nearly six bottle between the two of you? There was no way that you drank all that much - which you hadn't. Jason helped too.

The two of you groaned at the noise and tried to block the sound out. Thankfully, Bruce left and didn't try again. Tim buried his head into your neck, leaving light kisses. If you weren't so hungover you would have enjoyed where that was going.

Not even ten minutes after Bruce left, he returned. This time he had barged right into the room - to which you weren't that shocked about. He did it quite often and you learned to never, ever, sleep without close on after the first mishap. Tim pulled the covers over top of both of your heads.

Bruce, on the other hand, was sitting on the desk chair, with none other than a glass of wine in his hand.

The moment that the pungent grape smell hit your nose, you knew that it was over. Your stomach started to turn and you swear that you nearly through up on the spot. Bruce knew exactly what he was doing and you knew that too. Without being able to control yourself, you leaned into the garbage can by Tim's bed and threw up.

"I told you not to drink my wine."

#tim drake #tim drake imagine #tim drake one shot #dc #imagine #fluff #batfam #fanfic #oneshot #red robin #tim drake x reader

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saintlavrents · 4 years ago

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Truthfully [h.o]

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Reader

Warning(s): Fluff?

Prompt: “I can repress feelings all day.”

Summary: in which he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend

Words: 1,632

A/N: im back with yet another haz fic. ive been in such a haz mood lately aka since the end of last year. also im sorry that this is kinda bad bc ive been having writers block since january so yea lol and this is my entry to @londonspidey‘s writing challenge. congrats on the 3k!

You were bouncing your leg on the passenger seat as Harrison parked the car in front of the venue. To say that you were nervous was definitely an understatement. You kept on asking yourself how on earth did you get yourself into this predicament. Well, you know exactly how. You just didn’t understand why you had agreed to this.

“I need a favor.” You had opened your door to a seemingly disheveled Harrison, who just walked in as soon as you opened the door.

“Good morning to you too.” You muttered sarcastically as you closed the door behind him.

It was around eight in the morning and you had stayed up last night to study for a quiz you were going to have on your afternoon class. And you weren’t in the best mood due to the sleep deprivation.

Harrison stopped in his tracks for a second before sighing and turning towards you. “I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Well, uh, I kind of told my mum that I was seeing someone and that I’m going to bring that someone to Janice’s wedding.”

“Your cousin, Janice?”

“Yes.”

You sighed as you run your fingers through your hair, “Why, though?”

“Because she keeps trying to set me up with one of her friends’ daughter.”

“And you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend to get her off your back?”

“Yes.” He uttered, seemingly defeated. “You’ve got to help me. I don’t know who else to ask.”

You and Harrison first met in freshmen year in your English class and almost immediately hit it off and that lead to him introducing you to his group of friends, which you soon became a part of as well. Ever since then, you were pretty much best friends with all of them but you and Harrison were probably closest to one another amongst the six of you. The two of you even ended up going to the same University, but for different majors -Theatre for Harrison and Literature for you- and the two of you also live in a flat next to one another.

Being best friends with Harrison was probably the best thing that’s ever happened to you. But the thing is, sometime around sophomore year, you realized that you had feelings for him. You never told anyone, mostly because you don’t have any plans on telling him about your feelings ever. You had such a great friendship with him and you didn’t want to jeopardize it.

But eventually, Harry found out, sometime after he had enrolled in the same University as you and Harrison.

You were helping Harry move in to his flat, since you’ve got two of your classes cancelled today. It was only the two of you as Harrison said that he would come over to help after class. After about an hour of helping Harry unpack his stuff, Harry’s door swung open and Harrison barged in and gave you a hug. You were taken aback, blushing and your heart was pounding a thousand beats per minute.

“What are you doing?”

“Thanking you for helping me with the audition.” He said, letting go of you. You had helped him run his lines as well as film his audition for a major part in a film student’s final project a few days ago. “I got the part.”

“That’s great news!”

“I know!”

Harrison stayed and helped Harry with unpacking for about an hour before leaving again for his next class. After Harrison had left, Harry turned to you.

“You have feelings for him!”

“What? No, I don’t!”

“Yes, you do. If you don’t, you wouldn’t have been so defensive about it.”

You groaned in defeat, “Alright, fine. Happy now?”

“You should probably tell him.”

“And possibly ruin my friendship with him? No, thanks.”

“With you being this obvious, you should just tell him.”

“Again, no thanks.” You paused for a bit, quite embarrassed that you got caught. “I can repress feelings all day.” You added.

Since that day, you tried your best to not make it too obvious that you are practically in love with Harrison. You tried to ignore the loud beating of your heart every time he’s near and/or is looking at you with those blue eyes of his. You even had to put up a tough and sarcastic act whenever he’s around, mostly to pretend that whatever he did and/or say doesn’t really affect you, when whatever he did and/or say drives you crazy.

No matter whatever he said or did, never did you ever expect that he would ask you to pretend to be his girlfriend.

“But, like, your mom knows me.”

“Yeah and she likes you.”

“Wouldn’t she know that we’re not actually dating?”

“We’ll just have to act and be convincing.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll buy you lunch till the end of the term.”

You thought about it for a second before agreeing, “Okay.”

“Thank you!”

“When’s the wedding?”

“Saturday.”

And that was pretty much how you got yourself in this situation. You, in heels, dress, full face makeup, holding hands with the guy you’ve had feelings for since high school, walking into the venue of his cousin’s wedding.

“Your hands are sweating.” He whispered.

You stopped to retract your hands from his to wipe it off on your dress, “Sorry. I’m nervous ‘cause this is just weird. Pretending to be your girlfriend and all.”

He took your hand again and gave you a reassuring smile before walking into the ballroom, where the party was.

“Harrison!” You heard his mother call for him and the two of you turned around.

“Mum, hi.”

You gave a small smile, “Hi, Phil.”

“You guys came here together? I thought Harrison was bringing someone he’s seeing.” Phil teased.

You tensed up a bit and before you could say anything, Harrison chipped in, “Y/N and I are together, mum.”

Hearing him say that made you feel… weird. It made you feel butterflies, obviously, but it hurts because you wanted it to be true.

Phil looked taken aback, clearly surprised by her son’s declaration, but then quickly broke into a huge grin, “Oh my god! Harrison! You didn’t tell me that the one you’re seeing is Y/N!”

Thankfully, things got less awkward as the night went on and you had to admit that it was kind of fun playing along with it. Pretty much all you did for the rest of the night was stand by Harrison’s side, smile and respond whenever his family would talk to you.

At some point, you felt your ankles starting to hurt from standing too long on your heels, so Harrison suggested you take a break and sit down at the table for a while and so you did. You reached your hand down to your ankles in an attempt to massage and soothe the aching on them. You couldn’t help but look up once and a while and look at him. Sure, it got pretty fun, but it kind of hurt because you wanted it to be real.

He, eventually, caught you staring and mouthed an ‘Are you okay?’, which you responded with a nod and a small smile. You were once again looking down at your ankles and you felt someone pull the chair to your right.

“You know, I never thought he’d had the balls to ask you out.” Charlotte laughed.

You looked at her with a confused expression but before you could respond to that, she spoke again, “He’s always so scared that you didn’t like him that way. But mum and I always knew you like him back.”

Before she could say anything else, you heard Phil call to her for a family photo. What Charlotte said definitely confused you. What was that about?

“Hey.” Harrison snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Oh, hey.”

“Are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah, definitely.” You gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“Okay, that’s good. ‘Cause they’re going to start dancing any minute now.” And as if on cue, a slow tune played through the ballroom speaker.

He offered his hand to you and you took it, walking with him towards where everyone else were dancing, blending into the crowd. The two of you sway to the tune silently, before you decided to break the silence.

“You know, Charlotte said something interesting earlier.”

“What?”

“She said she never thought you’d had the balls to ask me out.”

Harrison tensed, “Oh. Did she say anything else?”

“She also said that you’re scared I don’t like you back.”

“Oh.” He looked down for a bit before looking at you.

“Oh? So, is it true?”

“I… Uh… Well… Here it goes.” He sighed before continuing, “I really like you, Y/N. And I know you don’t like me that way and that’s completely fine, I just hope that we can stay friends with y-” You cut him off by planting a short kiss on his lips.

You pulled away to see him looking very surprised. He was definitely not expecting that.

“I really like you too, Haz.” You smiled at him.

He smiled back at you before kissing you. And all you could think of was how crazy everything was. Never have you ever thought you’d be kissing him for real.

“Wait. She also said that your mum and her always knew that I liked you.”

“Uh… About that… Truthfully, she never tried setting me up with anybody. I just needed a reason to, well, ask you out.” He said, looking at you with that damn blue eyes, making your knees go weak.

And that was probably the moment where you both realized that it was love.

“You're still buying me lunch till the end of term, right?”

#iloveyou3000wc #harrison osterfield #haz osterfield #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield oneshot #harrison osterfield fanfic #harrison osterfield fic #harrison osterfeild imagine #harrison osterfeild x reader #harrison osterfield x y/n #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x you #haz osterfield x reader #haz osterfield imagine #haz osterfield oneshot #haz osterfield x y/n

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noona-clock · 4 years ago

Text

The Personal Trainer - Part 4

Genre: Gym!AU

Pairing: Junhoe x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 | Words: 2,487

I’m just going to cut right to the chase.

You spent the next few months in denial. Complete and utter denial. About basically everything.

Unsurprisingly, hugging Junhoe after your meal had been the catalyst for this denial, and the thing you were actively denying was... exactly what your brother had suggested.

All of the emotions you had experienced in that five-second hug had made you realize maybe you actually hadn’t gotten over him and maybe you still did have feelings for him.

But you absolutely did not want that to be true. There was no way you could possibly even begin to think about it because if you did, and if you discovered it was true, then you would find yourself in a very confusing and complicated situation. A situation you really did not want to deal with.

So, you see now why you were in complete and utter denial.

Three times a week, you had been going to your training sessions. Maybe once every other week or so, Junhoe had convinced you to go to lunch or dinner with him -- never a date, just as friends. Your relationship -- friendship -- had progressed to a stage where you now felt comfortable with each other. The thought of seeing him didn’t fill you with dread or make you anxious. In fact, it was quite the opposite --

And back to denial we go.

Your brother, of course, wasn’t helping. Whenever he called you, you did your best not to talk about Junhoe, but it was inevitable that he came up every now and then.

Your conversations typically went like this:

“So, how’s personal training going? You’re still doing it, right?”

“Yes, of course, I am.”

(Your first two prepaid months had come and gone, and you’d decided to continue on for... reasons. Not just to see Junhoe. Why would you think that?)

“How are you feeling?”

“Well, I’m still exhausted and sore.”

“Oh, come on! You gotta feel so much better now that you’re being active and taking care of yourself!”

“Yeah, sure.”

“...Junhoe is still your trainer?”

“Yes. Nothing has happened and nothing will happen. Harry says ‘Hi,’ by the way. He keeps asking when I’ll go on a trip next so he can go stay with his favorite Uncle.”

“I’m Harry’s only Uncle.”

So, yeah. You quickly changed the subject whenever your brother brought Junhoe up, and that was the strategy you were going to stick with.

It was also fairly easy to avoid talking about anything even closely resembling feelings or relationships during your training sessions with Junhoe.

You still thought about it -- and denied it, of course -- but there really wasn’t any room to talk about something other than exercising.

It was just the whole thinking about it thing you had to deal with.

But, as I’ve mentioned, you dealt with it by denying it!

That always works, right? Thoughts always just end up going away when you deny them enough, right?

Right.

Of course!

...Anyway.

You had been denying things for a good while now, and your plan was to continue denying them for as long as you needed.

Unfortunately, Junhoe decided he was going to throw a wrench in your plans one Saturday afternoon.

You didn’t know this beforehand, of course, otherwise you would’ve made up an excuse not to meet him for lunch.

Although... you should’ve been tipped off when he suggested going to the same restaurant you’d gone to on your first date.

But Junhoe had never had the absolute best memory, so you had brushed it off as him just forgetting that detail! Plus, it was a really good restaurant, and you hadn’t eaten there since... well, since you’d dated him. It definitely felt weird to go back there with him after all this time, but the two of you were friends now. You figured it was time to make new memories in old places -- friendly memories.

(This is what you kept telling yourself, yes. Friendly. Friendly, friendly, friendly, friendly.)

As soon as Junhoe sat down across from you, though, you knew something was on his mind. Something you didn’t want to hear, but -- as you’d gotten so used to doing it -- you denied it. You told yourself you were imagining things and went on eating lunch like nothing was worrying you.

That lasted for about fifteen minutes.

“Hey,” Junhoe began, his brow furrowed gently as he put his fork down on his empty plate.

“Hey,” you repeated. You crossed your arms on top of the table after pushing your plate away from you, and you looked over at him expectantly.

He waited a few moments before he met your gaze and said, “This has been really nice. Getting to know you again and hanging out and stuff.”

His words chipped away at your denial just a tiny bit, but you pretended they hadn’t. “Yeah, it has,” you agreed with a soft smile.

Junhoe’s expression turned to one of slight relief, and that, too, chipped away at your denial.

“Maybe I’m wrong, but...” he murmured, raising his eyebrows hopefully. “Do you... feel like... maybe... there’s still something --”

“Please don’t say it,” you interrupted, your voice just barely above a whisper.

“...Say what?”

“Whatever you were going to say, please don’t.”

Junhoe blinked at you a few times. “But... you don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“Things are good as they are right now,” you insisted, hardly even making eye contact with him. “Training sessions at the gym and the occasional meal, and that’s it. That’s good.”

“Y/N --”

“Please,” you urged.

“No, Y/N, I think we should talk about this,” Junhoe retorted, his voice quiet but very firm.

“Why? There’s nothing to talk about --”

“There’s nothing to talk about?” he asked with amused disbelief. “How can you honestly say that?”

“Because it’s true!”

“You really don’t think there’s been something --”

“No,” you cut him off. “I don’t think.”

It was the first time you’d denied it out loud, and... to be quite honest, it had been more difficult than you’d thought it would be. In your head, you’d been ignoring that something Junhoe was talking about for months now. You’d assumed that, if you ever had to actually talk about it, it would come out easily and naturally. So, you were kind of surprised that it hadn’t.

Before Junhoe could say anything in response, the server returned with your check. You quickly reached for it, fumbling in your bag to get some cash out so you wouldn’t have to sit and wait to get your credit card back.

Junhoe tried to stop you, but you ignored him as you slid the cash underneath the receipt, pushed away from the table, and began to head to the exit.

“Y/N, please,” he called out, though he made sure his voice wasn’t so loud as to bring attention to the two of you.

When you stepped outside, you felt his hand gently taking your elbow, and you knew you couldn’t ignore him anymore.

You whirled around, a deep wrinkle marking your forehead as you pleaded, “I don’t have anything to say. Please just let me go. There’s nothing to --”

“Okay, but I have something to say,” he declared. “And I need you to at least listen to me. You don’t have to respond. You don’t have to speak a single word. But please... just listen to me.”

You let your gaze fall to the ground, staring at it for a few seconds before letting out a soft sigh and looking back up at him.

“Okay,” you agreed.

Junhoe let go of your elbow, but he took a step closer to you, now just on the edge of invading your personal space.

“I’m sorry if you don’t want to hear this, but I don’t think I ever really got over you.”

...He was right. You didn’t want to hear that.

“I thought I had,” he continued. “Even after we started training, I thought there was nothing there anymore. That first time we had lunch, I really did want to catch up -- just as friends. But...”

Oh, no. Nothing good ever followed ‘But...’

“But now I’m not so sure. The more time we spend together, the more I remember why I fell for you in the first place. The more I question why we ever broke up. You’re such --” Junhoe paused to let out a quiet but frustrated groan, running his hands through his silky, dark hair. “You’re such an amazing person, and I -- I don’t know. I’m just drawn to you like -- like a magnet. I miss being with you. I miss you.”

His words almost physically hurt your heart. But, just like so many other things concerning your ex-boyfriend, you never wanted to admit it out loud.

You had broken up with him for a reason -- more than one reason -- and you didn’t know how things could’ve changed. You hadn’t been able to overlook how unbothered and unstructured Junhoe was about so many things, and you truly couldn’t see how you would be able to overlook them now.

So, you simply looked at him. You waited until almost a minute of silence had gone by, wanting to make sure he had finished speaking before inhaling deeply.

You opened your mouth to say something... but then you realized you had no idea what you wanted to say.

Was there even anything you wanted to say?

...At the moment, no. You needed time to process everything he’d said before you could properly respond. If you even wanted to respond at all.

You finally just nodded, tipping your chin ever so slightly and murmuring an “Okay.”

And then you turned to leave.

Thankfully, Junhoe took your response to his... I guess we could call it a confession, as exactly what it was: you needing time to process things. Needing time to think about things.

The problem was, you didn’t want to think about it.

You wanted to continue denying and ignoring. Your life would be much easier that way, and why make things more difficult when they didn’t have to be?

He didn’t contact you for the rest of the weekend, and even on Monday, he didn’t send you his normal ‘See you later for training!’ text message.

You knew things would be incredibly awkward once you got to the gym, but you were wiling to deal with that. You were prepared to show up and act like nothing had happened. And if, at the end of your session, he brought it up... you would simply tell him you still had nothing to say.

You didn’t care if that was a cowardly or selfish thing to do. I mean, you cared a little bit, but you’d already been hurt because of him. You’d already gone through so much emotional turmoil, and you really had no good reason to believe you wouldn’t go through it again.

Why wouldn’t you want to spare yourself from that kind of pain?

As you approached the front of the gym on Monday evening, you clutched the strap of your bag and took a deep, slow breath.

You just had to keep reminding yourself that the awkwardness of seeing him would be much more manageable than the pain of losing him again.

You took one more breath before reaching the front door, opening it, and heading up to the desk in the entry way to scan your membership card.

The receptionist greeted you cheerfully, as she always did, and you shot her a warm smile before making your way over to the personal training area.

Unsurprisingly, Junhoe was not there yet. He never was, and you were once again reminded that his tardiness would absolutely bother you if you started dating again.

But you wouldn’t start dating again, so there was no reason to worry about it.

After the first couple of sessions when Junhoe had showed up late, he’d instructed you to get on the treadmill to warm up while you waited for him, so that’s exactly what you did today.

You turned the treadmill on, setting it a very low speed so you didn’t work up a sweat before Junhoe put you through the ringer -- even after a few months of consistent training, you were still fully exhausted after each session.

As you began walking, you tried not to let your mind wander too much -- you tried not to anticipate seeing him because you would absolutely get too anxious if you did that. It would’ve been a good idea to put in your ear buds and listen to some music on your phone, but Junhoe would be here in a few minutes.

Except... a few minutes passed, and he was not here.

You checked your phone to see if he had texted you, but he had not. You looked around the gym to see if you could spot him coming, but you could not.

There was really nothing to worry about yet, so you decided to simply continue walking.

You walked... and walked... and walked... and when a full fifteen minutes had passed, then you decided to worry. You still hadn’t received any messages from him, and surely he would’ve told you if he’d had to cancel.

After turning the treadmill off and slowly coming to a stop, you hopped off and made your way over to the receptionist.

“Hi!” she chirped when you arrived. “What can I help you with?”

“Hi, yes,” you answered, hearing the shake of anxiety in your voice. “I’m supposed to have a training session with Junhoe, but --”

The receptionist cut you off with a gasp. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I completely forgot! He texted me that he’s going to be late.”

...He had texted her? But not you?

“He said there’d been an accident of some sort, but --”

“Accident?” you interrupted harshly.

“Yeah, he didn’t give any details or anything, but --”

You excused yourself, turned on your heel, and marched toward the exit.

As soon as you were outside, you fumbled through your phone to your contacts and pressed the ‘Call’ button next to his name.

With each ring, your heartrate doubled. And when you heard the first words of his voicemail, you weren’t even sure if you were breathing.

What was going on? What had happened? Why wasn’t he answering his phone? Was he okay? Why had he texted the receptionist but not you? Was he hurt? Was he on his way to the hospital? Why hadn’t he texted you? What kind of accident? Where was he? Why wasn’t he answering his phone? Why hadn’t he texted you? How would you live without him if something had happened to him?

...Oh.

You had not expected that.

Well, then.

Part 5

#kwritersworldnet #junhoe scenarios #junhoe imagines #junhoe au #junhoe fluff #junhoe fanfic #ikon scenarios #ikon imagines #ikon au #ikon fluff #ikon fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop au #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic #ikon #junhoe #koo junhoe #ikon junhoe

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marks-cereal · 4 years ago

Text

Drinking buddies

a/n: this is bad. like REALLY REALLY BAD. judge all you want. this is cringe as hell. also i got the inspiration from the song heather.

word count: 1.1k

genre: angst, with a lottle bit or fluff(?)

“do you think she’d like this?” he asked, “hm?” you replied, pretending not to hear it while you were scrolling through your phone,

“do you think she’d like this?” he asked once again, now looking at you. he was holding his grey crewneck sweater,

honestly, you wished it was you who he was giving it to, but no.

you looked at the him and faked a smile “of course she would!”

Mark invited you to his house 1 hour prior because him and his girlfriend were going on a date for their 1st anniversary. Even though you didn’t want to you just went with it.

You’ve liked Mark for a little over a year now. You were supposed to confess to him but…

“hey Mark, I have to tell you something.” You said shyly, “me too!” he looked unusually happy, “okay, you go first,” you told him to save you from the embarrassment, “okay, sure.” There was a bit of a pause, “I have a girlfriend!” he blurted it out.

‘Oh’ you thought, ‘so that’s why he looked so happy.’

“wow, Mark, who would’ve thought man.” You managed to utter, trying your best to hide your sadness.

“I know right? Damn. Okay, so what were you going to tell me?” he asked, “you know what? I forgot about it.” You laughed it off.

‘I like you, asshole,’ you thought.

He was now getting ready to leave for his date, “hey, do you want me to drop you off?” he asked while fixing his shirt, “nah, I’ll walk.” Your house wasn’t that far from his, just a few houses down from his.

“good luck on your date dude.” You said before closing the car door, “thanks, man.” He replied.

On your way back home, you felt the familiar feeling of aching in your chest and the sting in your eyes. It literally felt like your heart was breaking just thinking about falling in love with someone who was in love with someone else, you felt bad too because you keep on trying to be happy for him but you just can’t.

And now there you were again, crying yourself to sleep because of how much it hurts.

You were awakened by the vibration of your phone, half awake, you answer it, “who’s this?” whoever it was, you didn’t care, you were pissed at them for waking you up.

“hey…” suddenly the irritation went away just by the sound of his voice, but it sounded sad.

“what’s up? How did it go?” you were now wide awake because you were curious as to what happened.

He chuckled lowly, “yeah…well…not so great.”

“what happened?” you were so worried about him, “wanna drink?” he asked. “where are you? I’m coming over.”

You were always there for him whenever he was sad or frustrated, you were his shoulder to cry on and nothing more.

You went to the park he told you, and there he was sitting on the bench watching the sky with a few cans of beer beside him.

“hey you..” you sat beside him and grabbed a beer for yourself too, “so what happened?”

He glanced at you, “are you sick? You sound like you have a cold, plus, your eyes look puffy. Have you been crying?” he noticed, “what? No! of course not! Why the hell would I cry? It’s probably because I just woke up.” You laughed it off.

“so tell me, what happened?” these was a slight pause.

“she dumped me, told me she wasn’t happy anymore.” Sadness was evident in his eyes, “I should’ve known, I could see the signs but chose to ignore it.” He looked down on his beer,

“I could say the same.” He looked at you, only then did you realize you said that out loud, “really? How so?” he asked while looking at you straight in the eye, of course being shy you looked away and drank the beer you were holding, “oh, nothing, it just came out, sorry.” What a stupid excuse.

After a few more beers and silence, you felt a bit tipsy. You were never in good terms with alcohol but your friend here was the opposite.

“do you love her?” you asked out of the blue, “I guess?” you let out a small chuckle, “why?” he asked. “’cause if you do, we would probably be in the same place right now.” You said looking at the sky, “what do you mean?” he was curious, of course he was.

At this point, you couldn’t control your own mouth, you were blurting everything out. All the feelings and thoughts you kept deep inside for more than a year.

“I mean, we would probably be both heartbroken and crying and all that shit.” Tears were starting to form in your eyes, again.

“you’re heartbroken over who exactly? How come I didn’t know?”

You laughed at his reaction, “of course you wouldn’t know.” He was so confused, “huh?”

“dude I have been in love with you for more than a year now,” your voice broke. You looked at him with tears streaming down your face, “I wish I told you earlier but I chose to ignore it, hoping it would go away, somehow, but I was wrong.” You drank, again.

“y/n…” it was almost a whisper,

“look, basically what I’m telling you is that I love you okay? I always have but I couldn’t do anything because you liked someone else. I didn’t tell you, ‘cause how could I? You were happy with her. I didn’t want to ruin your relationship.”

Mark hugged you full on as you kept crying, he just comforted you until you calmed down.

As soon as you stopped crying, he stared at you, “you really are stupid,” he said, “but I’m just the same,” he smiled, but you weren’t really getting what he was trying to say.

“I liked you too dummy,” he uttered, “yeah right, liked,” you emphasized the ‘liked’ part. “yup, liked.” He stared at you once again, “it might seem like I’m joking but I’m not, I love you y/n.”

“wait what?” You were dumbfounded, “you player.” You scoffed, he just laughed if off, “I guess I am.” He said scratching his head because of embarrassment.

Awkward silence embraced the atmosphere but Mark broke it, “hey, y/n,” you looked back at him, “can I kiss you?” without any second to waste you went it for it. His lips were so soft.

“you don’t know how long I have been wanting to do that.” You smiled, “me too,” he said.

“let’s date, y/n.” he looked at you with sincerity, you smiled, “okay.”

#nct fanfic #nct x reader #nct angst #nct scenarios #nct mark #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct #lee mark #mark #this is bad #cringe #as hell

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come-on-shitty-boys · 4 years ago

Text

Selfish Fools. Nishinoya Yuu

Request: Could you do a noya x reader one shot maybe? Like the reader is a first year and she has a huge crush and she might be a new manager? Or a run in? Or maybe a tutoring sessions? Idk something cute? But I think Y/N as a first year and calling him Noya-senpai would be super cute!

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.6K

Notes: I’m finishing this up at like 5 a.m. and my god i really just want an iced vanilla americano.

Describe yourself in one word: Foolish.

To think that he would notice you of all people? It makes you scoff at the mere thought. You were a fool, a first rate clown. He was your friend and nothing else. He had been there to show you around on the first day of school when you accidentally mistook him for a first year. He had given you a mildly offended “Hey,” but laughed when you had started apologizing a million times.

Yeah, if you could describe yourself in one word, it would be foolish. Nishinoya Yuu saw you as nothing more than a friend while you were wanting nothing but to be more than that. But, he made your tongue twist into knots whenever you tried to speak. He could ask you as something as simple as “How was your day?” and you would be stuttering over your words just to get out a coherent response.

Everything about him, from his outward bad boy appearance to his energetic personality, had the blood rushing to your face, bringing out a bright blush at the simple thought of his eager brown eyes staring into your own. He was sweeter than you would have ever imagined. Constantly sending you messages to make sure that you were taking care of yourself. Sending pictures of things that made him think of you. Walking you home on those rare days when he didn’t have volleyball practice. He constantly showered you in praise, telling you how proud he was when you did well on a test that you had been worried about. He was the perfect friend, but that’s all he was. A friend.

It was foolish of you to think that Nishinoya would ever see you as anything more. You saw the way that he looked at Kiyoko. The light behind his eyes was different when he was with you. His eyes were softer, less eager for attention than the ones he used to examine the beautiful manager. Nishinoya was almost a completely different person around you than he was around Kiyoko, but you couldn’t really blame him. She was stunning and you were just some first year that he had, for some reason, chosen to befriend.

Sundays were reserved for the two of you to get lost in the immense piles of homework that had been sent home for the weekend. A kitchen table and various snacks being the only tangible thing separating you. But, the heavy sense of awkwardness hung thickly in the air. It was the best you could do to keep your head down, trying your very best to focus on your work and push away the thoughts of the young man across from you that kept flooding your mind.

Describe yourself in one word: Scared.

If Nishinoya Yuu could choose anything to describe himself in this moment, it would be that. He never knew how to approach the topic that he had been so desperate to finally discuss with you, but he would look at your face, your pretty smile, and chicken out, not wanting to ruin anything that the two of you had. The gap between friends and couple seemed nearly impossible to cross.

“Dude, the worst that will happen is she says she’s not into you. Just do it.”

“What if she doesn’t want to be friends anymore? What if I just ruin everything, Tanaka?”

Everyone in the vicinity who had heard him voice his concerns to Tanaka had told him that he was thinking about it too much. “Why would she say no?” “Have you seen how she looks at you? She’s totally into you!” “It’s easy. You’ve asked Kiyoko out a hundred times.”

But, this- this was different. This wasn’t some silly school boy crush that he knew wasn’t going to ever happen. He had come to know you like the back of his hand. You had become one of his closest friends and the thought that he could lose it all with one simple question ruined any sort of confidence that he had.

He was scared. Terrified might be a better description though. He could feel his chest tighten at the simple thought of confronting this dragon. It had been a long time since Nishinoya had felt this level of fear about anything. Fear closed windows of opportunities and he knew that this was the case here, but if it meant that he could continue having you in his life? He’d let that window stay closed.

You looked so peaceful, sitting across from him at the table, head buried in your homework. Strands of your hair kept slipping into your eyes and Noya found himself lost in the repetitive motion of you sweeping them back behind your ear. You had the cap of your ink pen stuck between your teeth, deep in thought, as if you didn’t even notice that he was there.

It was these moments of simple beauty that pulled Nishinoya further and further in love with you. Over his months of friendship with you, it was always these really simple moments that he cherished more than anything else. Doing homework together or just sitting on the floor of his living room, marathoning movies in pajamas with a bowl of popcorn tucked securely between the two of you, the physical barrier, his personal reminder that he shouldn’t lean over and wrap his arms around you to pull you into his lap.

There was a heavy sigh that left your lips as you sat your pen down, leaning back in your seat. It was enough warning for him to snap his head down to his own page to pretend that he was just as hard at work as you had been. He leaned forward on his knee, pressing his elbow into his thigh in a desperate attempt to stop the nervous bouncing of his leg.

He shouldn’t be this scared. He’d asked people out before. This shouldn’t be any different. You were just another person that he had a crush on. A simple, “Do you want to go on a date with me?” was all that it would take. That’s it. It was easy, but anytime that he even tried to utter out that question, it was like his voice stopped working.

“Hey, Noya?” Your voice echoes through his ears, forcing him to slowly raise his head to look at you. “Can you help me?”

“O-oh, yeah. I can try,” he answers, the shake in his voice obvious even to him. But, you seemed to be so lost in your problem that you didn’t even notice the tremor in his hand as he sat down next to you, taking your pen from you, so he can show you how to work out the math problem on your paper.

Describe yourself in one word: Distracted

The feeling of Nishinoya’s slim shoulder pressed against yours as he walked you through the problem brought your head into a heavy haze, unable to concentrate on what he was saying and the numbers that he was scrawling across your page. Before you knew it, he was circling in a sloppy 7/19 and you had no idea where he got that.

“Did that make sense?”

No. I was too busy thinking about you.

“Yeah. Thank you.”

It should’ve been his cue to leave, but the little libero stayed where he was, shoulder pressed against yours. You would’ve loved to continue working, but you knew that you would never be able to think about the numbers on your page with his close proximity. If you could just lean over and kiss him-

But, you couldn’t do that. You didn’t want to have to look at him after he inevitably pushed you away from him, a disgusted look on his face. You couldn’t run the risk of ruining everything for your own selfish feelings, but he looked so cute sitting beside you, leg bouncing as he got lost in his own thoughts.

Describe yourself in one word: Selfish

It was selfish and greedy for him to do it. He was thinking only of himself and how he felt right there and then. He was thinking about how cute you were when you smiled and how beautiful the sound of your laugh was. Nishinoya was wondering what Chapstick flavor you had used that day. Was it the cherry that he had watched you apply so many times or did you use the peach one that you just bought? He was wondering how it would taste against his own lips.

He was selfish and he shouldn’t have done it, but his hand was turning your face towards his before he could catch himself. Your eyes were wide and confused, but even so, you were the one who closed the gap, pushing your lips to his in a kiss that had him melting under the simplicity of it and the feeling of your hands resting on his thighs.

It made his head spin and, if he was honest, he’d be okay if it never stopped. There were short breathless pauses of smiles and foreheads pressed together before lips connected again, desperate to remember that this wasn’t just a dream, that this was really happening, and that neither of you were shoving the other away.

He was selfish for wanting to taste that peach flavored Chapstick one more time.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #Nishinoya Yuu #nishinoya #yuu #nishinoya x reader #x reader #imagines #i probably scrapped this three times before finally getting an idea that i was happy with #but no cap #the peaches and cream chapstick slaps

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summersubin · 5 years ago

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meeting soulmate!taehyun for the first time

a/n: happy valentine’s day!! it’s so close to being last minute but i wanted to post something mushy and soft to celebrate... enjoy! :) thanks for reading~ (this is pretty long it’s about 1.7k i lowkey got carried away)

you were at a fansign

honestly you don’t know how you made it there, it was pure luck that you could actually get into it

looking around the venue, you saw just how many people were there

it was a hectic environment, buzzing with energy

the other fans around you were so excited, a hum of noise filling the air of the room

you were… pretty nervous

there was something about being here today that sat in your stomach heavily

you tried not to think about how nervous you were feeling, and clasped your hands together to help stop their shaking

there was a particular someone you were especially nervous to meet

you weren’t sure what it was, but there was something about kang taehyun that drew you in

you laughed at yourself, thinking about the strange draw on your attention he seemed to have from how far away from you he was

and it was funny timing, because as soon as your mind began wandering from the topic the girl in front of you started shrieking

from her conversation with her friend, you heard the word “soulmate” repeat itself a few times, and she bounced up and down in excitement

hearing that made something funny stir up in your stomach

soulmate? there was no way

you almost wanted to laugh at her

meeting your soulmate was a huge deal, one of the biggest moments you have in your lifetime, if not the biggest

meeting them here would just be…

impossible? you thought, the word not quite sounding right

anyway, it was a silly notion, not something worth thinking about

you smiled nevertheless at the prospect, and then began to feel the excitement once again of being able to be there in that moment

you were really going to meet txt???

the line was gradually moving forward, you along with it, and the nerves jumped around inside of your stomach with each step closer to the table where the members sat, signing albums and talking to the fans

as the line got shorter, a weird pressure began building in your chest

you brushed it off as nerves, trying to take deep breaths to calm yourself, but it only seemed to grow stronger

you were very close now, able to hear the voices of the members making conversation with the people in front of you

and then it was your turn

soobin was at your end of the table

he smiled at you, eyes warm with kindness

he was the sweetest boy ever

you smiled back, still trying to ignore this weird feeling in your chest

he took your album, quickly flipping through the pages with his big hands

he glanced up as he wrote, asking for your name

and you tried your best to keep up the conversation, but your mind felt awfully distracted

you had a strong urge to look just past soobin

the action was second nature

and just as you glanced over, your eyes met none other than taehyun’s

he seemed distracted too, still talking to the fan with himself as he caught your glance

he had this weird expression on his face

you tore your gaze away and back in front of you when soobin raised his hands, offering them for hi-fives

awkwardly, you smiled, laughed, and met his hands with yours

they really were soft

and you felt bad for a moment, hoping he wasn’t disappointed with how distracted you were acting

you had spent a good amount of time in front of him, but most of it was a blur in your memory

he said goodbye, and it was time to move on

when you took a step past soobin, the aching feeling twitched inside of you with the impact of your foot to the ground

and when you glanced up, you saw a hint of a wince on taehyun’s face

he sat in front of you now, and he kept going between meeting your gaze head on and ducking his head to look at his fingers

his fingers, which were holding the marker in his hands so tightly that his knuckles were white

and neither of you said a word

you opened your mouth to say something, but found you had nothing to say

so you bit your lip instead, and slid your album across the table towards him

and he took it gingerly, hesitantly opening it

you thought you heard him take a deep breath in and out

it was weird, it wasn’t visible, but it was like you could feel a physical link reaching from you to him, perfectly straight

at first he looked annoyed, but as you watched him for a few more moments you realized his hands had adopted a slight tremor which was quite similar to yours

he looked really nervous

and when he was done writing, he finally raised his eyes

you locked eyes with him, and after a beat, you took your chances at smiling gently

he offered a small smile in return, breathing out a laugh

“uh, what’s your name?” he said nicely, and after that utterance, a content feeling rushed through your veins

you eased up a bit, and when you replied, you saw the way his shoulders dropped slightly, eyes widening fractionally

he slid the album back to you, and after hesitating for a moment, feeling the awkward silence, he raised his hands up leaning his elbows on the table

it shocked you a bit, and you quickly glanced back at soobin to see if they were touching hands already

it hadn’t been that long already, had it?

and sure enough, soobin was still looking down at the fan’s album, just beginning to sign it

so you raised your hands to taehyun’s, not sure of what else to do

the second your fingers touched, an electric pulse like lightning went down your arm

you flinched, quickly pulling your arm away like you’d been burnt, and you took notice to the way taehyun had jumped slightly in his seat, glancing between his hand and you with a bewildered expression on his face

you rubbed your hand from the shock, and watched as he slowly brought his hand back to where it had been

you didn’t exchange words, staring at each other as if you were the only people in the enormous room

cautiously, you brought your hands back to his

when they touched it was a different feeling from the first, one that went straight to your heart and sank in

it was like feeling whole, like coming home

taehyun closed his eyes, and then he was intertwining his fingers with yours

you held his hands, grip tightening

the hum of noise dissolved into the background, almost ceasing to exist

when he opened his eyes again, and you met them, you knew without a fraction of doubt that he was your other half

he was your soulmate, and the two of you were fated to be together

“it’s you…” he whispered almost inaudibly, holding your hand tighter

you let yourself smile, happiness threatening to split your face open

he followed suit, as if your emotions were linked perfectly

you could feel the curious glances coming from beside you, not only from other fans but from the other members as well

it must have been an unusual sight, the two of you looking at each other as if you had known each other for years

“taehyun,” you barely muttered, and you saw the way his eyes immediately flickered back to yours, sparkling

“say it again,” he said softly

you stared at him for a moment

“my name. will you say it again?” he asked, voice as sweet and gentle as flower petals

“taehyun,” you said, smiling gently

he smiled harder, dimple poking in his cheek

and his thumb began to gently caress your hand

“i’ve been waiting for you…” was all you could say, and it was true, you had waited for so long to meet your soulmate

you’d spent countless days daydreaming about who they would be, how you would meet them, what life could be like once it happened

you felt the beginnings of tears forming in your eyes, overwhelmed with emotion

“me too,” you heard him whisper, eyes swimming with a sadness that perfectly mirrored yours

“see me after,” he said quickly, catching on that the event still had to continue and you couldn’t stay forever

soobin had started giving the two of you nervous glances, trying his best to keep the fan in front of him perfectly entertained

“but how-” you started, a panicked feeling beginning to blossom in you at the idea of having to leave him, not being able to touch him anymore, or even be near him

“i’ll tell the staff,” he murmured, and then his gaze dropped to your linked hands

he met your eyes one last time, pausing there for a moment, and slowly pulled his hands from yours

no doubt, the rest of the fansign for taehyun would be a distracted mess, it would be a true test of his patience

he watched you with sorrow in his eyes as you walked away from him, every step leaving a heavy weight in both of you

but you both knew you’d be able to get through it, because you would be reunited

and that was enough to wait any amount of time for

you continued down the line of members, laughing a bit as you did so because you knew you would probably be seeing a lot more of them

you did your best to avoid meeting the glances that you knew taehyun was throwing you whenever he got the chance

you didn’t want to become caught in his eyes and freeze up again when you were trying to act normally

the rest of the members were incredibly sweet to you

yeonjun tried and failed to mask the smirk on his face and pretended as if he didn’t know exactly what had just happened

he had been sitting on the other side of taehyun and probably heard a lot of the conversation

“it’s really nice to meet you,” he said lowly to you in a sincere tone

and his smile was radiant and warm, eyes shining

when you finished down the line, one of the staff approached you and lead you to a place where you could wait until the event was over

you walked anxiously, feeling the connection to taehyun who was still back there, the way your body wanted to go

but you followed the staff nevertheless, and waited for the moment you could be with your soulmate once again

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adelindschade · 4 years ago

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Karma is a female-dog

Moroha found the dance between Setsuna and Hisui hilarious. Never one for romance, she enjoyed the awkwardness that surrounded the pair. The boy was much more in love in the half-demon than she was him. Inevitable heartbreak, Moroha predicted. She also relished in the red that overcame his face whenever she pointed it out. In front of her father, his father – anyone, really! And he’d lash out with his weapon of choice – just too slow to make a contact; she was too swift.

So, karma had to repay the favor.

One errand. That’s all. A trip from one village to the other for mere supplies. Of course, her mother insisted she wear something less conspicuous. A frivolous kimono borrowed from Sango. And no teeth. Be polite – don’t say anything smart. That part was uttered by her hypocritical father – though his intentions meant well, too concerned his daughter would be harmed by people propelled by prejudice. Not that she couldn’t hold her own…

Which is why she didn’t mind picking a fight with a demon that she came across attacking a procession of men. They were no match for the gigantic beast but she came prepared with her sword, hidden well. Not even her father spied the piece as she slipped off. Nor would he have said something because better safe than sorry. Her mother would have opted for a bow. Thankfully, she gathered that, too, having tucked it away out of her father’s sight and grabbed it as she rounded the hut.

A rebel through and through. Seventeen going onto forever. She was invincible.

Her hair was done in a much more mature fashion – much to her chagrin as she had to set aside precious seconds to tie it back. Another man had fallen from his horse; another slain. She raised her bow and shot it straight – piercing armor made of bone. The beast howled and glared down at the surprisingly small woman.

“You!” It thrashed, attempting to grab her. Her reflexes were keener than its own, evading capture with a simple jump back. She wielded her preferred weapon, a sword of strength and stealth that matched her own.

It screamed as its wrist was sliced clean up. Screw her kimono – she doubted it was the first time the fabric had been spoiled with blood. Sango would know how to clean it out. She made another slice, aiming at its neck. Blood was rampant in the air but she did her best to ignore the stench.

For a demon so large, it offered little fight. She was disappointed to see it cut down so fast. She wanted something more. With a heavy sigh, she yielded her sword and secured her bow back in place.

“Not even a bounty,” she lamented as she walked pass. A corpse or two lay in her wake; nothing could be done for them. Her father would’ve pitied them but moved on. The living would attend to the carnage. She had another mission. Her mother would have a fit if she did not come by sundown with the desired herbs.

“Miss! Miss!”

She paused mid-step, glancing back with curiosity. A man of noble tier scrambled her way, traumatized by the slaughter yet having not a scratch on his body. He must’ve been important to be protected.

“Yeah?”

“Miss! I must know your name to express my deepest gratitude!”

“Uh…” she mustered. If she said her name, it could come back to bite her. Yet, what harm could it do?

“Moroha,” she decided to oblige him.

“Lady Moroha? I am indebted to you. You have demonstrated great skill and bravery in face of true terror. As a reward for saving my life from certain death, I’d be honored if you would accept my proposal of marriage.”

“What…?” she stammered.

“I am Nobleman Akio Inoue, the youngest child and only son of Chieftain-”

“Sorry, but no,” she rudely interrupted. So much for avoiding harm. She just insulted some high-and-might-nobleman. Would her father care? No. Would he hate the idea of having to deal with the aftermath of a man’s wounded pride? Of course. But he’d rather deal with that than send his daughter off to a stranger. “My father would not accept,” she attempted to ease the brunt of the blow.

“Whom is your father?” he inquired.

“Uh…”

Myoga had called him a Lord. And her mother a Lady. But she had always known them to be called nothing more than a half-demon and a priestess. Informally, Inuyasha and Kagome. She always called them Mom and Dad. Yet, her heritage may claim more rank above the nobleman’s if she took into consideration the demon hierarchy. She wouldn’t explain such to him since she scarcely understood it herself.

“None of your concern,” she eased. “Your expression of gratitude will suffice. Carry on,” she dismissed hastily. Her steps fastened and she swiftly escaped out of ear shot, though she heard him call her out plenty in her retreat.

She nearly forgot the experience altogether, grumbling to her father about the scolding she received from her mother upon returning home later than usual and bearing blood all over the borrowed clothes. He laughed, patted her hair, granted her his usual line of “could be worse” before walking off into the village where she was certain he sought to converse with Miroku over their latest job.

Or tease Hisui over his crush on Setsuna. Inuyasha found it humorous a slayer was enamored with Sesshomaru’s offspring. ‘Kid is suicidal,’ her father would tease. Setsuna wasn’t as warm to Inuyasha as she was to Moroha – distrusting of the adult half-demon more so for his connection with her estranged father than anything else.

Talks of proposals were long forgotten until one unexpected visit from a nearby nobleman had Moroha hiding behind Kaede’s hut. Her mother was alarmed.

“I’ll be off!” she squeaked but her mother kept her cornered.

“Why are you so scared of being seen?” her mother questioned with crossed arms. “Shy is not a word I’d describe you as.”

“Uh…”

“Spit it out, Moroha!”

“I SAVED HIM FROM A DEMON AND HE PROPOSED TO ME AND I SAID NO!” Moroha breathed all at once. She was wide eyed and panicked, much like her mother who exhibited the same nervous expression.

“What?!”

“I DIDN’T TELL DAD BECAUSE DAD WOULD – WELL, YOU KNOW HIM! SO, I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING AND I THOUGHT IT WOULDN’T BE A PROBLEM BECAUSE I’D NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN BUT THAT’S NOT THE CASE!”

“Moroha, one trip by yourself and we’ve slighted a noble family! I don’t know if your father would be proud of you or furious!”

“Just hide me! I was never here!!”

“Uh, oh,” Kagome winced.

“What?” Moroha whispered.

“He’s caught the village’s attention.”

“No, no, no, no,” Moroha pleaded helplessly. She hid into her mother’s shoulder.

“I seek a fair maiden by the name of Moroha!” the man announced. “I was told she resides here!”

The demon’s ears twitched.

“Did he just…?” Setsuna asked, eyeing the stranger whose caravan arrived in their measly village.

“Fair? Is he talking about our Moroha?” Hisui chuckled. That earned a small grin from Setsuna.

“She must have hit him too hard on the head,” she replied. He laughed at her jab.

“She is cute… when she wants to be,” Shippo jabbed. “She’s a bit of a tomboy.” He spied an emerging figure from the nearby tree stepping onto the road. “Uh-oh…”

“What about her?” Inuyasha stepped forward. His voice was harsh and cautious.

“I desire to seek out her father,” he replied sternly. “I have business with him that requires immediate attention.”

“How so…” Inuyasha insisted, arms crossed and eyes set in a beady glare.

“It does not concern you, half-demon! Step aside!” the man cast with a strong arm to the left.

“It sure as hell does when it’s my daughter you’re talking about,” Inuyasha spat. His hand wavered over the sheath of his trusted sword.

“We don’t know a Moroha! He is confused!” Kagome intervened with lightning speed. She bowed incessantly. Inuyasha looked down with utter confusion.

“Priestess, you know this half-demon?”

Before Inuyasha could say anything, Kagome snuck a small glare his way. “Don’t say anything!” she hissed.

“Okay…” he grumbled.

“We know a Moroha!” Hisui spoke out. He was the recipient of icy glares from both parents and child alike. Setsuna was unmoved.

“What business do you have with her?” her cousin pitched.

“I desire to speak with her father at once!”

“He’s right here – what do you have to say? Get on with it,” Inuyasha spat, baring his teeth.

“Inuyasha…” Kagome whispered, tugging him back by his arm to no avail.

“In no way could a half-demon like you reproduce such a fine creature as she,” the nobleman sneered.

“Thanks for the compliment but get on with it before I part you head from your body, idiot,” Inuyasha snarled.

Kagome paled. Moroha shrunk in the shadows.

“Perhaps I can intermediate,” Miroku intervened. He stepped between the two. “I can attest my friend, though foul tempered, is indeed the father of the woman you inquire about.”

“I agree with Inuyasha – what business do you have with her?” Sango joined. Her hand was purposely placed on her weapon, ready to draw.

“She is my betrothed!”

“No, I’m not!” Moroha shrieked as she emerged from her hiding place. “I said no!”

“You said your father would not approve,” Akio mused.

“I said no and that he wouldn’t approve!” she raised her voice as an angry red overcame her features.

“Which I don’t!” Inuyasha joined.

“Get that through your thick skull! Move on!!” Moroha seconded.

“You are… partially demon,” Akio nodded. “That explains your strength and bravery. Nonetheless, I am indebted to you, and your heritage does not dissuade me from fulfilling my promise.”

“The hell you will! Hands off my daughter, you freak,” Inuyasha snarled, drawing his sword.

Setsuna chuckled. Hisui sputtered, doing his best to hide his amusement after a reprimanding look from his uncle, followed by his own parents who were worried by Inuyasha retaliating.

“This is one big misunderstanding,” Kagome waved off before retracting her daughter behind her.

“A priestess and a half-demon… such a peculiar union…”

“If you got something to say, pal, say it!”

“Inuyasha! Sit, boy!”

A thunderous thud followed, with her father planted on the road.

“Ow!!”

Moroha stiffened, never so happy in her life to be free of such damning beads.

“Sorry, Dad!” She squeaked.

“Why do you approve of such a match? Surely, I’d elevate her station, and bestow our children with a better quality of life,” he made the mistake of justifying. “They would exhibit a lesser degree of demonic energy as she or yourself. We could disguise that properly.”

“CHILDREN?!” Both daughter-and-father cried incredulously.

Kagome sputtered. “Excuse me, she’s seventeen!”

“He’s surely digging his own grave,” Sango sighed.

“Perhaps it’s best we let her father do the honors,” Miroku agreed. He wasn’t naïve enough to think he’d react any differently where his twins were concerned. They stepped out of the way in tandem.

“This will be a slaughter,” Setsuna theorized.

“I am not a cow to be bred!” Moroha squawked. “I’ll kill you myself!”

“No one is killing anyone!” Kagome disagreed. She breathed nervously. “I’m sorry you came all this way… but marriage is not in the future for you two,” she attempted to mediate.

“Is she already spoken for?”

“No! She’s seventeen and under my care!” Inuyasha growled with a raised fist.

“Oh, so you already prepared a match with someone of your likeness,” Akio accused with narrowed us. “I disagree – it’d be a disservice for your daughter.”

“That’s not your call to make and she isn’t marrying anyone anytime soon! Not if I have any say in it!”

“Yeah! Marriage ain’t for me, buddy!” Moroha copied.

“I wouldn’t turn it down so soon if I were you,” Hisui humored. “This could be your one and only chance.”

Moroha steered towards him with raging eyes.

“No one asked you, Hisui!”

“Butt out, you! Miroku! Manage your son!”

“Now is not the time, son,” Miroku meekly said as he approached his offspring.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Setsuna joined.

“With me…?” Hisui prompted, hopeful she was aligning herself with him.

“This one or perhaps, if he’s still enamored, the wolf boy, too,” Setsuna added.

“Enough!” Inuyasha bellowed. He nearly drew out his sword had it not been for Kagome who stepped in front of him, guarding him.

“Would you decline nobility and comfortability?” Akio asked Moroha.

“I do! I’m staying right here! Time to go! Good-bye! See you never!”

“Manners,” Kagome warned.

“Screw manners,” Inuyasha cursed.

“So be it,” Akio dejected. He pulled the reigns of the steed, prompting the horse forward. He passed by the family of three as he did.

“No offense has been taken, I assure you,” he calmly said as his eyes set upon Moroha. “I bid you good fortune, Lady Moroha, and you, too… half-demon, priestess…”

Inuyasha was tense, hands fisted, alongside his daughter who bore teeth as he passed. A real feral child – however cute she may be in her mother’s eyes. Kagome waved awkwardly.

“You missed your chance to marry rich,” Hisui teased as he joined the threesome alongside his parents.

“You handled yourself pretty well given the circumstances,” Miroku chuckled.

“Moroha…” Inuyasha warned. She felt his eyes burn into her skull. She trembled.

“Mom can explain!!” She squealed, running away.

“Not a chance! Get back here!” Inuyasha gave chase.

“I wonder what your dad would do if someone tried to ask for your hand,” Hisui joked to Setsuna.

“Kill him, no doubt,” Setsuna answered promptly.

The color on his face drained.

“Maybe we should pick our battles,” Sango warned – enjoying the terror on her boy’s face as she, too, foresaw his crush teetering on delusional.

#humor #fluff #family #inufam #moroha #hisui #setsuna #hanyo no yashahime #hny #drabble #sango #miroku #brainstorming

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lovelylaurie · 5 years ago

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Chronology - Part 2

Adolescence Laurie x (March) Reader Words: 2478 Request: @psychshawnjuleshanluke A series where each part follows reader and Laurie’s relationship over time. Part 1 | 2 | 3

Meg sighed dreamily. Her breakfast plate sat untouched before her. Jo screwed up her face, “Ugh, gross!” She followed the gaze of Meg’s fluttering eyes out the window, only to find John Brooke on the path outside, gazing back at her, “Aaah! Gross!” She ran across the room to draw the curtains. Brooke looked embarrassed and began to walk away briskly. Amy looked up at Meg mischievously and slipped a few pieces of toast off her plate with a sly hand.

Over the past few weeks of summer, your world had begun to change, ever so slightly shifting into maturity. Meg was engaged now and seemed wholly unable to think about anything else. Though you wanted to be happy for her, and wished for her to have the future she wanted, you, like Jo, couldn’t help but feel some contempt. Just last winter, you were running around and romping as usual. But come spring and summer and everyone was suddenly different. Jo, noticing this as well, had a quicker temper than ever. Too much talk of the future sent her storming off to the attic, presumably to skulk. And you were inclined to agree. Even Amy, though still very much a young girl, was beginning to realize her dream of becoming an elegant lady. She fussed about her hair and clothes and accessories. Instead of playing Pilgrim’s Progress, she had taken to strolling around the house haughtily, pretending to be some rich aristocratic lady. But worst of all, worse than any of this, was Laurie, who would be going off to college in the fall. The thought of it alone gave you an acute sinking feeling. For now, you were attempting to ignore it and live every day to the fullest. But it was a difficult thing to take your mind off. You kept returning to an image of the March house, quiet, dark, and dusty, reeling from the twin losses of Meg and Laurie. Though you knew the house would still be full, and Meg would visit often, the feeling of loneliness was incredible and overwhelming. The other loss, Laurie’s, somehow loomed darker, more ominously leering. “Well! I’m off!” you stood up suddenly, trying to shrug off the intense foreboding that gripped you. “Where are you going?” Jo asked defensively. “Laurie’s,” you answered, without so much as a glance back at Meg’s dazed and faraway expression. You ponder, as you walk the path to the Laurence house, how difficult it is to leave one’s closest friend. It has you utterly and completely torn. In seeking comfort and escape, you turn to Laurie. His presence, his very being, has always been its own consolation. His smile warms your heart and his cool, contented expressions calm you. But now, every thought of him is a double-edged sword. Every thought of him has you thinking of his coming departure. Every chime of his laugh and twinkle of his eye has you missing him already. But loneliness and distance are worse, so you seek him out every chance you get. And however much you want to stay at home with your sisters, you simply can’t. Jo’s contempt is similar to, but different than, yours. She seems to have already fully realized these changes and departures, and stubbornly resolved to refute them every chance she gets. Meanwhile, you have been ignoring it as much as possible. Her animosity and constant irritation only worsen your loneliness. By now you have arrived at the Laurence house. You enter without knocking, as has become custom. But upon entering the study, the scene before you causes your cheeks to redden with embarrassment. Laurie and Brooke are seated at the table by the window in the midst of a lesson. At the sound of the door, Laurie, whose legs are resting nonchalantly on the table in front of him, turns to look at you. Relief washes away his expression of extreme boredom. “(y/n)! What a wonderful surprise.” He jumps up immediately and waltzes towards you. Brooke looks hesitant and you look horrified. How could you have assumed Laurie would be free? Of course he would spend his few months remaining before college preparing academically. Or at least, his grandfather would force him to. Your blush deepens as you consider that just as he has served as a distraction for you, from change, you have served as a distraction for him, from education. “I’m so sorry, I should have knocked.” “Nonsense, come in.” He is wearing a white linen shirt with large, flouncing sleeves and an unbuttoned silk vest. You make a move to leave, but he shuts the door and leads you away. Brooke looks exasperated, “Laurie, please sit down.” He is ignored. “You are always welcome, (y/n), I insist.” Part of you, the polite and mannerly part, wants to leave. But the door feels miles upon miles away, and the thought of spending a day alone is utterly and gut-wrenchingly awful. After an awkward pause, you say to both of them, “I’ll let you get back to your lesson, but do you mind if I stay?” Brooke seems taken aback, but accepts, “I suppose that would be alright.” “Stay as long as you like,” Laurie assures you, returning to his seat. So you settle into the study, walking the shelves and flitting through old books. Laurie follows you with his eyes, and Brooke appears worried, presumably that your presence will only distract him further. But then you immerse yourself in a book and read quietly on a couch, close enough to hear them but far enough away that you are apart from their discussions. With time, you notice that Laurie is more quiet and subdued than you expect, and his feet have not returned to their spot on the tabletop, Brooke’s tone loses its edge of irritation, and Laurie buttons up his vest while reciting verb conjugations in Latin. By lunchtime, they’ve finished. The second he is allowed, Laurie strides across the room and seats himself beside you on the arm of the couch. “I promised Grandfather I’d eat with him, but after that, I propose the wildest and most riotous adventures.” “I can’t wait.” You smile and Laurie continues talking, but out of the corner of your eye, you see Brooke giving you a long and pensive stare before leaving. The following day passed with little to note. Laurie was occupied almost until dinner time and you were forced to spend the day between Jo and Meg, where a sense of animosity was growing. But during breakfast the day after that there was a knock at the door. Marmee answered and you heard her conversing with Mr. Brooke. When she returned, she asked for you. Meg looked considerably crestfallen. Jo rolled her eyes, “You’re already engaged, Meg, seriously.” Brooke had the same thoughtful look he did two days ago, as he said, “Good morning, Ms. March-” “(y/n)” “-(y/n). I was wondering if you noticed anything out of the ordinary regarding Mr. Laurie’s level of focus while you were present the other day.” You tried not to laugh at the way he said ‘Mr. Laurie’ or at his exceedingly formal tone. He was about to be your brother-in-law for Christ’s sake. “I’m not usually there, I can only speculate.” “Well, you see… He was focused, intent, and, well, reasonably respectful.” “Which he isn’t usually, I’m sure.” He nodded, “Correct. I attribute it to your presence.” At that, you blushed a bright scarlet. “He frequently skips lessons or rushes out early, and I’ve noticed that it is to come here, and, frequently, to see you. But while you were with us, he seemed placated. Or at the very least, temporarily mollified. I came here, Ms.- (y/n)- to ask that you accompany us again today.” “Okay,” you squeaked, “I’ll just… grab a few things.” Laurie has been your best friend and closest companion for almost as long as you’ve known him, but your pulse quickened to think that you could have that effect on him. You returned to your family and found your sisters’ faces full of amusement, even Meg. “I’m going to accompany Mr. Brooke to the Laurence house today,” you proclaimed matter-of-factly. “I’m glad to hear that Laurie will be focused on his lessons,” Meg chided. Jo and Amy laughed and Beth and Marmee smiled as you gathered your book and scarf in a small bag and hurried out. When you arrived at the study a few minutes later, Laurie was slouched against the window with, once again, complete and utter boredom. “Brooke, I could have sworn I saw- (y/n)!” He sprang across the room to greet you, “Oh, please tell me you’ve come to take me away. I can’t stand another minute of this.” “It’s 9 am,” you laughed. “I’m at my breaking point.” He smiled with an air of levity forming at the corners of his lips. “Vive la révolution, Laurie, but only after your lessons.” You resolved to thoroughly explore the room today, and laughed at Laurie’s frequent proclamations of “Vive la révolution!” whenever Brooke scolded him for getting off task. Other than that, he remained focused and even appeared at times diligent. Many days were spent just like this one as the summer drew on, hours wiled away in companionable silence and distant closeness. You would remember these times, later, when he was away, and imagine he was beside you in your loneliness. Perhaps equally lonely, himself. Finally, as you neared the end of summer, Mr. Brooke deemed Laurie prepared for higher education and released him to his final weeks of freedom. He then could often be found at the March house, as early as breakfast, and frequently staying late into the evening. One afternoon, a week from Meg’s wedding, you had both escaped from the preparations and planning to the woods surrounding your houses. You had climbed up to a low-lying branch of a large tree and was now seated there, reading. Laurie was lying down on the grass below you, gazing lazily at the sky through the tree branches. “I can’t believe one of the March sisters is getting married,” he said. “Yes, and to your teacher,” you replied bluntly, trying to brush him off and avoid the conversation. You still wanted to ignore everything, but the time was fast approaching when you wouldn’t be able to any longer. “Is there something on your mind, (y/n)?” His tone is tender, soft, and caring. “Nope, I just want to read my book.” He chuckles, “No, you’re not.” You look down and glare at him, “And how do you know that?” “You haven’t turned a page in the last ten minutes.” “That’s what you’ve been paying attention to?” He must have been more bored than you thought. “What else is there to?” You didn’t realize until later what he meant by this, but for now, you just stared at him curiously. “Come down.” He sat up against the trunk of the tree and patted the space next to him. You sighed, gave a small smile, and obliged, hopping down from your branch to sit beside him. “So this has something to do with Meg?” You paused before responding with an apprehensive, “Yes.” Meg’s marriage was definitely part of your melancholy. And although you didn’t plan on telling him this, Laurie’s leaving for school was affecting you much more. “What about her?” “It’s just- she’s getting married and- and moving away. And as much as I want to be happy for her, which I am, I can’t for the life of me figure out why.” Laurie gave you an odd look, so you continued, “Okay, I know why. But it’s just that she’s leaving all of us for this… this boring bachelor. I just find it odd.” “Perhaps it is, but they love each other very much. And you know what happens when two people love each other very much-” “YES! I do, Laurie!” you shrieked, and you both burst into laughter. Then you saw that familiar glint of mischief in his expression that had you forgetting everything, forgetting Meg, forgetting Laurie’s university. But soon it all came rushing back, because this is what you would miss, that look in his eye, that smile. You stopped laughing. Laurie stared at you contemplatively as you leaned back against the tree trunk and pulled your knees up towards your chest protectively. His voice dropped to barely above a whisper, “But that’s not everything, it is?” “No,” you admitted. He didn’t respond and instead put his arm around your shoulder, allowing you to lean into him. He traced circles on your shoulder with his finger. You sat here for a while, reveling in this hint of bliss, before he whispered, “You can tell me what it is if you want.” You couldn’t say no anymore, you couldn’t simply walk away. Not here. Not now. “You, Laurie. It’s you.” His finger stopped moving and his arm hung over you with far more weight than it had just moments ago. “You’re leaving and I’m going to miss you,” your voice broke, “so much.” The softness wasn’t gone from his voice, but something else was there as well, something much more morose, “I have to do this, (y/n).” “I know that, and I couldn’t possibly ask you to stay, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” “(y/n),” he turned your face towards him, putting his hand on your cheek, “I will think of you and I will write to you and I will come home as often as I can, I swear it.” He was just inches away. Your heart beat fast, and though you didn’t quite know or understand what was happening here, you loved it. “Laurie-” in a second, he closed the space between you. The kiss had a depth of emotion and feeling that encapsulated everything you could have possibly said in that moment. It was not long before you would forget what you were going to say, the memory being overshadowed by what came next. You put a hand on his chest. He was warm and soft and it felt so natural to be this close to him. The kiss ended, but he didn’t pull away. Then, from somewhere behind you, you heard, “(y/n)! Laurie! Come, it’s time to get back to work!” It was Marmee. Laurie merely sat up straighter and looked in her direction, but you jumped up and brushed yourself off. As you and Laurie walked home, you realized how fast your heart was beating and how breathless you felt. You were dazed and stared off with a glassy and faraway look that was oddly similar to the one Meg had recently adopted. Laurie was skipping slightly as he walked, unable to control a smile spreading across his face.

#fic #Laurie #Laurie Laurence #theodore laurence #laurie little women #laurie x reader #laurie laurence x reader #laurie laurence little women #laurie laurence little women 2019 #little women #little women 2019

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marvelmando · 5 years ago

Text

the first breath [p.parker x reader]

notes: hi! i... actually love this. i’m a sucker for soulmate! au’s, so naturally this was somewhat easy to write. this is just a small break from my tempest series, ill continue posting tomorrow (bc it’s my birthday!). tomorrow as in the eleventh, just in case it’s already daytime wherever you’re reading this!

contains: soulmate! au, some swearing

pairing: peter parker + reader

word count: 3.6k

“Hey!”

Peter’s heart thumped hard in his chest. Looking around for the person, he saw a girl greeting a friend, and Peter sighed, unconsciously massaging the band covering his left wrist.

No matter how many times Peter had heard the word, it never failed to send a spike of panic in him. It was just a word, an unfairly common greeting phrase in America, but to Peter, it meant infinitely more.

“Stupid Soulmark,” Peter grumbled to himself as he walked the halls of Midtown High.

For as long as humans could tell, each individual was born with a word or phrase inked into the skin of their nondominant forearm. The Marks could say anything, but they belonged to the first words spoken to you by your soulmate.

Soulmarks were considered sacred by most of the world, and like most sacred things, they were hidden from public view. Soulbands were a staple in almost every culture, meant to only be taken off in front of your soulmate. Although modern times saw the general acceptance of most controversial topics that were shunned in the past, Soulbands seemed to never grow out of popularity. It was also a sense of security, to make sure that they couldn’t be said by the wrong person.

Some had easily-identifiable Marks. Where there was little room for doubt that the words spoken belonged to your soulmate. Others, like Peter, had simple, one-word Marks.

For as long as he could remember, Peter lived in a near-constant state of anxiety over the word. What would normally be an off-hand remark or a polite greeting made Peter’s heart skip and his knees grow weak.

Whenever greeted with the word, Peter would tense, and respond with a stiff, “Um, hi?” and watch as the person gave him a weird or blank look in return. There had been several instances - none of which he was particularly proud of - where Peter ran away rather than face the sting of false hope.

Most religions viewed Soulmarks as divine intervention, a sign that humans were blessed by the gods. A lot of the time, Peter wanted to curse whatever gods forced them into the arranged couplings.

Failing at keeping the scowl at bay, Peter stopped at his locker, twisting the lock and opening it to return his books.

“Hey, Peter,” a voice said from behind, and he instantly recognized it as Ned Leeds, his best (and only, really) friend. Peter turned only his head, unsurprised to find Betty Brant, Ned’s soulmate, at his side.

Like most matched individuals, Ned seemed to glow with happiness in the presence of their soulmate. Sometimes the dopey smile on Ned’s face was too much for Peter. Whether it was from envy or discomfort, feeling the never-ending, unadulterated joy exuding from him made Peter’s stomach turn and twist uncomfortably.

“Hey, Ned. Betty,” Peter nodded as a greeting, stacking his textbooks in his locker.

“Are you planning on going to the... internship, today?” Ned whispered, his inability for subtly flaring to life. Though Betty had been Ned’s match long enough to know Peter’s secret, it was a good thing the halls had pretty much been deserted at that point, as the school day had been over for more than ten minutes.

“Yeah,” Peter shut his locker, heaving his significantly lighter backpack over his shoulder. “Just neighborhood stuff, though.”

Ned nodded enthusiastically. Despite how preoccupied he was with Betty, Ned had always been Peter’s go-to Spider-Man guy. Ned called himself “The Guy in The Chair”, but Peter refused to say it out loud unless absolutely necessary.

They parted ways at the train station, where Peter went to find a secluded alley to change into his suit.

You had no idea what possessed your parents to up and move the family to New York.

You’d lived your entire life in a small, cozy town in the middle of nowhere. You’d enjoyed that life. Then suddenly, your father called you down one day earlier that summer to announce that in a few months, you’d be packing and moving to the heart of Queens.

Despite having been in the bustling city for weeks now, you still hadn’t gotten used to walking through the crowded streets. People were rude here; though, with the craziness of the city, you weren’t really sure you could blame them. Still, it filled you with frustration when you tried to weave through the streets, only to be knocked roughly in the shoulder and subsequently cursed out for no damn reason.

On the bright side - the only bright side, if you were being honest - was the exponential increase in the possibility that you would finally meet your soulmate.

Your hometown was lovely and quaint, but the general teenage population left a lot to be desired. It didn’t help that there were only fifty other people in your graduating class, or that you’d met and exchanged first words with every single of them already.

That being said, of all the people you’d met at Midtown so far, none of them had said the words branded on your right wrist. But to be fair, there weren’t many opportunities where someone had to yell, “I swear I wasn’t aiming at you!”

You didn’t have to worry about the possibility of danger in your old town, but in New York, you were vaguely concerned that the words would be uttered during a mugging.

Unfortunately, you were quite right to be concerned.

“All right, Karen, what do we got?”

Peter watched as the screen flashed, images of satellite footage and recordings of police radio calls popping up and disappearing again as Karen flipped through potential threats.

“The city is quiet today,” Karen’s robotic voice remarked. Distantly, Peter wondered how the voice was created, and if it was recorded, who the person was behind the voice. It was distinctly human, after all, without the awkward pauses and emphases that Siri usually had. “There have been no reports of any robberies or shootings.”

Peter sighed, bored and disappointed. He’d long gotten over the guilt of wanting some danger in the city.

Suddenly, before Karen could notify him, he heard a voice cry, “Stop that guy!”

Immediately swinging into action, Peter noticed a man in his mid-twenties sprinting down the sidewalk, shoving himself through the crowd. The woman who’d yelled for help was young, in her thirties, but still wasn’t fast enough to keep up.

Peter swung overhead, gaining distance and landing directly in the guy’s path. The thief skidded to a halt, his eyes widening in obvious fear at the sight of Spider-Man. He clutched a purse to his chest.

“It’s not nice to steal!” Peter yelled, moving to shoot a web at the purse. But the thief was quick, and he ducked under his web, making a run for it.

Peter was faster though and lunged to bodyslam him, sending him into the wall of a nearby building. The impact knocked the purse from his grasp, and it spilled to the ground as the man struggled to get back up. Peter webbed him to the wall and notified Karen to call the police.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Peter was about to leap onto the roof when an aggravated noise caught his attention instead.

He turned to see you growling, your splayed hand webbed to a streetlamp. The web the thief dodged must’ve hit you instead. Catching sight of him noticing you, you yelled out, “Hey!”

For once in his life, the word didn’t seem to register. He was, for lack of a better word, enchanted by you. Even with furious indignation twisting your face, he couldn’t stop staring at the depth of your eyes and the slope of your nose. Blinking, he said without thinking, “I swear I wasn’t aiming for you!”

It was a stupid response, admittedly. Of course, he wasn’t aiming for you. You’d probably noticed the thief and could probably make the connection.

However, Peter didn’t have time to think about the pointlessness of the protest, because he was too busy registering what you’d said. The word. His word.

Cheeks flaming under his mask, Peter braced himself for the rejection. But it never came.

Your eyes went impossibly wide, and you immediately stopped yanking against the web. Peter watched as you gaped at him, and thanks to the mechanics of the suit, he noticed that your heart rate increased significantly.

Almost in a trance, Peter stepped toward you. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

Your mouth closed, and you visibly swallowed. “Depends,” your voice was tight, anxious. “How often do you accidentally shoot your webs at innocent bystanders?”

You flushed as you registered the double meaning behind the words. Peter watched in amusement as your cheeks flushed and you stammered to correct yourself.

“I-I just mean that -”

“It’s okay, I -”

Peter started to placate you, feeling the blood rushing through his veins like soda, popping and fizzing under his skin. But he was cut off by the sound of Karen’s voice, though distant, but urgent enough to draw his attention away from you.

“Peter, there’s a hostage situation that was just called in happening thirteen blocks away,” the AI announced, causing Peter to falter in his steps.

“I-I gotta go,” he told you, hurrying to free your trapped hand from the lamppost, and backing away reluctantly. “I’ll find you, I promise!”

He could see the disappointment on your face as you watched him scuttle off, and every cell in his body protested the distance he forced between him and his soulmate, but he knew he had to go.

“If you were anyone else, that’d be super creepy!” You yelled as Peter swung away. He smiled widely under his mask.

Your skin was still tingling and your cheeks were sore from smiling so much when you finally reached your apartment.

All you had to do was look at your mother for her to tell that you had met your soulmate. After spending an hour at the kitchen table being interrogated by your parents, you were finally released to your room to process.

You closed the door gently behind you and slid your back against the wood until your bottom rested on the ground. You tilted your head back, barely feeling the thunk as it collided with the door. Every time you tried to relax your face into a neutral expression, you remembered the way Spider-Man’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of you, and how your heart skipped several beats as he said the words you knew so well, and your lips crawled back into a giddy smile once more.

Even in your hometown in the middle of nowhere, you had known about Spider-Man. The superhero wasn’t nearly as popular as he seemed to be in the city he protected, but you still remembered the passing of phones and newspapers whenever Spider-Man saved another day or stopped another robbery. Even your high school had a day dedicated to him after a particularly miraculous defeat of the notorious Green Goblin, who’d terrorized the borough for weeks before he was stopped.

Spider-Man was a national - if not global - phenomenon. And he just so happened to be your soulmate.

You’d just reached for your phone to call your best friend from home when a knock on your window startled you.

You jumped, scrambling to your feet. Your apartment was on the eighth story, there was no way a burglar would have climbed all this way to rob you. A burglar wouldn’t knock either, you scoffed internally.

Tiptoeing to the window, you peered through the glass. Even under the dark cover of the late hour, you could distinctly make out the identity of the figure. You hurried to unlatch and open the pane, stepping back nervously when the figure climbed through, rather clumsily for how graceful he normally was.

Spider-Man was polite enough to close the window behind him, cutting off the brisk gust of wind that caused goosebumps to appear on your arms. You crossed them, rubbing them to warm yourself up.

When he straightened and faced you once more, you couldn’t help but stare back. You bit your lip anxiously, suddenly very aware of how messy your room was. You had, after all, just moved in, and most of your stuff was either still in boxes or strewn haphazardly about the room.

“I’m sorry for the mess,” you blurted, unable to help yourself. “We just moved here a couple weeks ago, and... well, y’know.” You gestured unhelpfully around the room.

Every cell in your body seemed as though they were vibrating. The muscles in your chest twitched and your bones ached to close the distance between the two of you. It was as though you and your soulmate were opposite ends of a magnet, and the field around you was pulling your bodies together.

“It-It’s okay,” Spider-Man stuttered, and you realized that he’d turned off his voice modulator. You hadn’t even realized earlier that he was using one, but you now recognized the difference. His voice was higher than before, not as robotic and crackly. “I don’t mind.”

You nodded awkwardly. Spider-Man shifted his balance between his feet, as if he too was fighting the urge to get closer.

“Uh, how did you find me, anyway?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Well, there’s this intelligence system installed in my suit, and I had her look up your address,” the eyes of his suit narrowed sharply as if he was wincing, probably at how creepy it sounded. “I hope that’s not too creepy, because it sounds pretty creepy. I didn’t - I mean, I wasn’t stalking you or anything.”

You smiled. Spider-Man rambled adorably, and though the thought of him looking up your address should have been terrifying, you found that you didn’t mind at all. You weren’t sure if it was because he was your soulmate, or if it was because he was a superhero. Either way, you placated him. “It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

Despite your insistence that it was fine, Spider-Man still held himself back, hesitant to move forward with the conversation. To cut through the awkward tension, you said the first thing that came to mind.

“I like your suit,” you said, cringing immediately after. While true, that wasn’t exactly what you meant to say.

With the mask, you couldn’t decipher Spider-Man’s reaction. Though, after a brief moment, he chuckled.

“Thanks,” he giggled. You felt yourself relax. “I like your shirt.”

You looked down. It was an old band shirt that you bought at a thrift store a few years ago and was well-worn, the ink faded and several holes stretching the neck out. “Uh, thanks.” You smiled nonetheless because it seemed that Spider-Man was just as nervous as you were, which inexplicably made you feel much better.

“My name’s Y/N, by the way,” you smiled, holding out your hand. “But if you know my address, you probably know my name, too.”

You thought you could see Spider-Man smiling under the mask. It shifted over his face as he accepted the handshake, wrapping his hand around yours. Even through the fabric of his suit, his skin burned like a furnace. From anyone else, it may have been stifling. But from him, the warmth was cozy, a calming heat rushing through your hand and up your arm, wrapping around your heart like a security blanket.

“I do,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. It took you a second to connect what he meant.

The seconds passed and your hands were no longer shaking, but neither of you dropped the hold. You found yourself drifting closer toward Spider-Man, and it took all of your energy not to fall into his chest and wrap your arms around his waist.

“I’m guessing that your real name’s not Spider-Man,” you cocked your head. “And I feel like it’s only fair that I know my soulmate’s name, too.”

Your breath hitched. You heard him inhale sharply, too. It was the first time you’d directly acknowledged to each other what you were, and it suddenly was too real for you.

You jerked your hand back, embarrassed. Your hand was startlingly cold now, suddenly bereft of Spider-Man’s touch. You flexed it subconsciously, yearning to reach out and grab his hand again.

“I - I...” you tried to explain yourself, but the wide, questioning eyes of his suit made you falter. You averted your eyes as you took an anxious step back, fighting against an overwhelming urge to flee.

“No, wait -” Spider-Man said, and reached up and yanked his mask off in one swift motion.

Your eyes immediately found his, as if they were pulled instinctively to each other. His soft almond-shaped eyes were filled with worry and caution, the warm brown irises gleaming in the darkness of your room. The lights of the ever-glowing city were the only light filtering in your room, and the shadows cut angles against Spider-Man’s cheekbones, carving his jowls and accentuating his slim mouth. Even in the darkness, you could make out the light smattering of freckles across the slightly crooked bridge of his nose, and the endearing flick of his left eyebrow, emphasized by their worried arch.

The chestnut curls piled on top of his head were tousled from the mask and flipped haphazardly over his forehead. His ears stuck out from his head, but instead of looking awkward, they fit his face nicely, softening the sharp edges of his high cheekbones. They were what made his already stunning face heartbreakingly adorable, and you fought the need to run your fingers over the shell of them.

Though the shadowy bags under his eyes conveyed a sense of exhaustion too severe for his apparent age, Spider-Man was younger than you thought. If you were to hazard a guess, Spider-Man was about your age, give or take a couple years.

“My name’s Peter,” he breathed, looking slightly panicked as you studied him. “Peter Parker.”

“Peter Parker,” you whispered, testing out the name on your tongue. The words were gentle but the pounding in your chest was overwhelming. The tension that grew since being in his presence while pulling yourself away made you feel as if you were drowning, gasping for breath. There was a bursting sensation in your stomach, then a warm, satisfying weight that spoke of absolute certainty that Peter Parker, aka Spider-Man, was your soulmate.

You felt your body inch toward his, and the relief flooding his face was palpable. You stepped closer to him, relishing in the way your body hummed in delight at the closeness.

Peter looked down at you, his gaze sweet and caring as he searched your face. There was a moment of content examination spent in comfortable silence as you both memorized every little detail of each other’s faces.

It should have been awkward, looking and saying nothing, but the longer you spent staring into each other’s eyes, the farther you seemed to fall. It was completely ridiculous and entirely premature, but you were certain that Peter was someone you could fall madly in love with.

“Hi,” you whispered, grinning shyly.

“Hi,” Peter responded just as softly, a mirroring smile stretching his lips.

Suddenly realizing something, you moved back just enough to bring your hand up. Peter backed away slightly, though it seemed to pain him.

You grabbed at the band covering your forearm, watching Peter’s expression as you unwound it. His eyes went wide, shifting from your arm to your eyes, then back to your arm as the band fell away and exposed your Mark.

Eyes meeting yours for permission, he tenderly took your proffered arm. His eyes roved over the Mark, before he brought his own hand to his mouth, grabbing the middle finger of his glove and yanking it off.

With his bared hand, he reverently ghosted his fingers over the inked letters. The look on his face was pure awe. “I really wasn’t aiming for you.”

He winced as though the words weren’t meant to escape. You chuckled. “I know.”

The light caressing of his fingertips against the sacred Mark shot spikes of pleasure through your body. It was a heady feeling, seeing your life partner touching the place meant for only the two of you.

When he looked back up at you, his face was split in an achingly loving smile. He pulled away, and yanked on the sleeve, revealing his own band.

It was simpler than yours, designed to fit slimly to the skin under his suit. It only took a simple click of his finger for it to release. On the dip of the inside of his wrist was the word, “hey!” written in your handwriting. With gentle movements, you traced the lines with your fingers. Peter visibly shuddered, watching you soak in the Mark.

Though you could’ve stared at it forever, you finally tore your eyes away. You met Peter’s gaze, finding the weight of it easier to handle than you thought.

With your thumb pressed to the Mark, and his hand wrapped around yours, the universe nudged you together. You and Peter fell into each other, lips meeting and melding as your bodies and souls collided like two exploding stars; fate and gravity and destiny crashing into each other and settling happily between you and your soulmate.

Your Mark burned and your lips ached with the pressure of your shared kisses. Reality forced your bodies apart, foreheads resting against one another as you caught your breath, but all at once, your soul felt grounded - you hadn’t even realized how empty it was until it found Peter’s.

In the safety of his arms, you breached the surface and took your first full breath.

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