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maes-flowers · 2 years ago

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For them, for us (Obi-wan Kenobi x reader)

Summary: Following the Kenobi series, two former Jedi masters Obi-wan Kenobi and Y/n Marilla are grieving the lost of Anakin, Padme, and the jedi purge. After pledging to watch over Luke Skywalker and spending ten years in exile, and making a life together what will happen when the mistakes they made in their past come back as a new threat?

Authors note: I had to repost cause I wasn't showing up in any tags lol but if you like this story and want to be added to the taglist let me know down below!

Warnings: Very clear signs PTSD (panic attack, nightmares, and hypervigilance) arguments, violence, some fluff, and I think that's it

Prologue

You hated nighttime.

Especially the nights you would shoot yourself out of bed in the middle of the night due to your mind reliving memories you wished would leave you. But the war, the screaming, the bloodshed, and the mistakes you've made in the past haunted you and every breath you took.

Your chest heaved as you blinked rapidly, your eyes adjusting to being open as you took in your surroundings. The small and familiar hut in a cave provides a soothing comfort as you sit on the small bed you shared with Obi-wan. Your hair toppled down your shoulder grazing your bare arms as you shuddered from the cold desert air blowing in creating goose bumps to appear on your skin.

You closed your eyes again for a moment but images from your nightmare came quickly flowing back.

You hated the nights you couldn't fall back asleep even more.

Sighing, you lifted the blanket from your body and stood up. Your back popping as you stretch the sleep away from your muscles. Looking down you stared at the sleeping man below. who had been knocked out cold after a day in the sun before you got home from your own job.

“At least one of us gets a nice night of sleep.” you whispered quietly.

You grabbed your shawl from the floor and draped it over your shoulders, you weren't sure what time it was but you knew it was way too early for you to be awake. You stood awkwardly in the middle of the place, unsure of what to do. Your options for entertainment are already limited on any other day, but even more so when your overworked husband was sleeping a mere few feet away.

Until your eyes landed on the large metal pool you kept in the corner of the cave. You stared at it in thought, it was early so you'd be safe from anyone witnessing you and be safe from Obi-wan's scolding if you were to practice right now.

While Obi-wan had completely sealed himself from the force, you still kept in touch with it much to Obi-wan’s disappointment. Although not as much as your younger self did but enough to keep you occupied a few nights a week if you were lucky. From practicing small mind tricks on animals, levitating objects around your small home, and last but not least practicing your lightsaber skills.

With a mental stick you had managed to steal from a scraper site since your actual lightsaber was buried deep in the sands of Tatooine.

You slid on your boots and grabbed the pole and headed outside giving one more glance to Obi-wan's sleeping form as you stepped away.

Tatooine had no moon on the planet, but instead had two suns so it never truly became fully dark. Which had made sleeping even more of a task than it already was before having to keep scraps of fabric on any possible crevice light could come in. at least it was convenient on the nights you sneak out.

You never moved too far from the entrance to your home, always keeping the place in your line of sight. After an incident where you strayed too far from the cave and didn't hear or see Obi-wan come up behind you resulting in you slamming the pole right into his stomach you promised you wouldn't let that happen again.

Twirling the pole in your hand, you did a couple practice swings in the air, stretching your muscles in your shoulders and arms warming your body up. the weight was heavy in your hand as you began to move. Your mind went to your master, Stass Allie as you went to strike your imaginary enemy. The stern but kind woman had specialized in force healing but also was one of the best lightsaber duelists you've ever seen and was the main reason you were the Jedi you were. You had hoped dearly that she had made it out alive when order 66 was implemented.

You shook your head to get rid of the thought as your body went on autopilot. You grunted as you threw the pole and quickly brought it back with the force. You kept your breath low and steady as you got on your knees, your body performing the moves that allowed you to attack a person's legs before rolling back up, switching the pole in your opposite hand as you turned around quickly, redoing the stances of basic lightsaber forms again. Getting used to the unbalance of attacking with your nondominant hand.

You smiled at the familiar feeling, you felt like you again even for just a brief moment as you pretended you were back in the temple and your and your friends lives weren't ripped apart by the empire.

You had to give up your actual name in public places, opting for ‘Kilian’ to avoid anyone connecting the dots of your identity, leaving your home on Coursant, and getting rid of your saber. And although you would do it again if it meant protecting the twins and being with Obi-wan, you would be lying if you said you felt like you lost a huge part of yourself. You gritted your teeth and slammed the pole right into a rock, metal bending awkwardly to the right when you staggered away.

“Y/n.” a voice you very quickly recognized as Obi-wans called out to you, dropping the bent makeshift weapon you looked over at him.

Expecting the usual look of disappointment, all you found was worry.

You panted from the exertion, you sat down on a small rock and hung your head between your legs.

“Stupid pole.” You heaved, not enjoying the slight twinge of pain in your hip. “What are you doing up?” you asked.

“The same reason you're awake, I assume.” Obi-wan sighed

You heard the sound of boots grazing the rocks on the ground, keeping your eyes low until the man in front of you kneeled down in front of you.

“Bad night?” he asked.

“Bad night.” you echoed pathetically.

Slowly looking up you came eye to eye with Obi-wan, his hand coming up and pressing into the tender muscle of your hip. You groaned at the feeling and leaned forward until your head planted on his chest, thankful he knows you well enough to do the small action without asking.

“Kriff, I love you, do you know that?” you said, relaxing at the small massage his large hands gave you, you moaned softly at the relief of the knot coming undone.

“I have a faint idea.” he mumbled, his hands leaving your hip and opting to grab your hand, his fingers running over the small band around your finger. Although you and Obi-wan never got officially married, you both had made rings soon after you arrived on Tatooine and called it good enough. No one else needed to know besides you two anyway.

“Did you have a nightmare?” he asked, you looked up from his chest and shrugged as if it was no big deal.

“Ah you know, just the usual.” you said, “I'm assuming you did as well?”

Obi-wan looked down, his sheltered reaction confirming the obvious.

“Glad to see nothing has changed in the Kenobi household.” you joked sadly, although you enjoyed the small laugh the man let out. He looked up at you, and you pushed the longer copper strands away from his eyes.

Obi-wan truly hasn't changed too much in the last ten years, the mullet he sported years before had returned and his beard had grown a tad longer. With some fine lines around his eyes, most likely due to the powerful rays of two suns and the constant squinting during the mid afternoon as he worked outside. He still remained the unfairly handsome man you met decades ago in your eyes.

“Quit judging the old man.” he said, you gasped at that and jokingly pulled at the roots of his hair lightly, smirking at the quiet groan he let out under your grip.

“I'm not! I'm admiring you and plus you only have five years on me.” you said, running your hands down until each one was on each side of his jaw. You leaned forward and kissed him, happily accepting Obi-wan's grip returning to your hip as you deepened the kiss. He gave you a few more moments before he reluctantly pulled away.

“Come back to bed,” Obi-wan said, you sighed at the thought of going back to the nightmares.

“I know, I feel the same way but I know you work tomorrow and you need some sleep.” Obi-wan said, already noticing your apprehension to the idea.

You just nodded in defeat, you knew he was right. You worked at the local tavern in the town and although you didn't go to work early you worked late often.

You stood up and grabbed the pole, Obi-wan following beside you as you both walked back home.

As the two of you laid back down, you reached for Obi-wan as you curled up under his larger frame, tucking your head under his chin.

“Tomorrow morning, you think we can go check up on Luke?” you asked, sleep already reclaiming your mind. “It's been a few weeks since I was able to go with you.” your voice trailed off at the end, letting your eyes fall shut.

“Of course, Love.” Obi-wan said, but he received soft snores in response.

🖾

You and Obi-wan sat silently on the small mountain that overlooked the Lars residence, it had been weeks since you had come with Obi-wan to do your weekly check in on him. You were catching up on sleep from the unruly schedule your job had from work and your insomnia. In result, you slept in late today as well, having to take the very, very old speeder bike you managed to buy off one of your regulars for a good deal to meet up with Obi-wan who had left an hour before. The two of you both held binoculars to your eyes as you watched Luke run away from his chores.

“Where is that kid going?” you mumbled to yourself, watching Owen Lars stop what he was doing and looked for Luke.

You watched as Obi-wan scanned the larger area surrounding their home, but you kept your eyes on the side of the house. Chuckling at the sight of Luke climbing onto the roof and sliding goggles over his head.

Your smile dropped as you then saw him act like he was podracing, you put down the binoculars and watched in disbelief. That was the most Anakin-like thing you've ever seen the kid do, and you wouldn't be lying if you said that the sight alone did not punch a hole of grief into your stomach.

“Wow.” you mumbled, looking over at your husband as he slowly lowers his own binoculars.

Obi-wan stayed silent as he started ahead. You wish you knew what he was thinking at that moment of seeing the spitting image of his friend. You were about to comfort him but heard you watch beep at you and you cursed, quickly standing up. You dusted off your pants as you grabbed your stuff.

“You need better time management, Starlight.” Obi-wan said, looking up at you. You ignored the way the new nickname turned your face red as you rolled your eyes.

“Ha-ha.” you said displeased, leaning down and kissing his head. “I'll be back later tonight, I love you.”

You stepped toward the cliff edge and peered over, the drop wasn't too far and you could see your bike right below you.

“Why must you insist on taking the most unsafe routes?” Obi-wan chastised, you looked over your shoulder as you crouched down.

“Because it's fun.” and with that you dropped down and landed on the seat of your bike on your feet, the uneven weight making you wobble as you sat down on it properly. You looked up and saw Obi-wan looking over the edge, a small smile on his face as you waved to him and sped off.

🖾

The day after seeing Luke, the Tavern was disgustingly slow. To the point you should've just stayed home since the jobs pay was terrible without tips. You sighed as you closed the bar early, as one of your co-workers told you to just go home.

So when you were walking through town you didn't expect to see Obi-wan and Owen Lars talking to each other. Owen's face was tight with annoyance as you heard his voice the closer you got to them.

“Anakin is dead Ben,” Owen reminded. “And I won't let you make the same mistake twice.”

You sighed, knowing Obi-wan once again pushed the boundary Owen had set with Luke. although you hated it you kept your distance so you avoided situations like this.

“Owen,” you called at, your voice hard. “Let's not go to cheapshots, shall we?” you stopped in front of him. You had seen Owen in town more often than Obi-wan had, as he stopped in once in a while for a drink and something to eat. You had the opportunity to see Luke once with him as well, he reluctantly allowed you to introduce yourself. You knew he was protective of his nephew but you knew Obi-wan was as well.

“I know you care, and I don't hold that against you but you have to understand we are not trying to make him a soldier or anything like that.” you kept your voice low so no one could hear you. “We care about him too, and the sooner you see that the easier this will make everything. Don't forget without us you wouldn't even know that little boy was alive right now so don't directly insult my husband for a tragedy he had no control over.”

Owen just looked at your silence for a moment before he shook his head.

“Leave him on the farm, with his family, where he belongs.” he warned before he walked away.

You sighed and pinched your nose, shaking your head.

“ Why is he so stubborn-” You halted your sentence as you heard the shouts of the villagers.

“Move,” A deep voice rattled. “Move! Get out of the way.”

Your fight or flight activated as you saw the figure in all black armor walk down the street pushing away citizens in their way.

“Behind the wall, go.” Obi-wan hurried, his voice in a quiet rush as the both of you backed against the wall.

“You know why we are here,” a man with a ragged voice announced, his face green contrasting poorly with the black armor. “There is a jedi hiding on this planet and we need to know where he is! Tell us the location and you will be rewarded well.”

“Or you'll be punished!” a woman's voice called out, as she walked down the street. Tall and powerful as she sauntered around the crowd. “Hands go first! That way, when you reach for anything you will think of us.” she warned.

You watched an older woman begin to yell at the inquisitor.

“This is the outer rim!” a woman's voice called out. “You have no rights here.”

You watched as the inquisitor turned to the woman, her hand moving toward her saber. You stepped forward on instinct, your body wanting to help but Obi-wan arm flew out and kept you pushed against the wall.

“Don’t.” he hissed.

The Inquisitor turned on her saber and quickly sliced off the woman's hand, your hand flew to your mouth as the crowd around you gasped at the screaming woman.

“All we want is information!” she yelled circling around the crowd like a predator. “If anyone knows anything about a jedi…” her voice trailed off when she looked at Owen.

“You know something?” she questioned, Owen shook his head.

“What's your name?” she asked, her tone calmer than before.

“Owen,” he said.

“Owen,” she echoed, as if getting used to his name on her tongue. “Farmer, right? Have a wife? A kid?”

“My family’s of no concern for you.” he said, and you wanted to smack him across the face at the attitude.

“Might be, you got a Jedi on that farm too?”

“No.” Owen replied. “I have no love for the jedi, they are vermin and I kill vermin on my farm.”

You began to search for any possible escape routes, heart pounding so hard you could hear it. Owen was going to sell you out.

“You protect your family,” she said, stepping forward and adjusting his vest. “I like that Owen.”

She leaned forward and looked him in the eyes.

“You think you can protect them from me?” she asked.

When Owen said nothing, you almost cried in relief.

“Tell me where the Jedi is, or this man and his family die!” she shouted. You launched forward, but Obi-wan once again shoved you back against the wall.

“Damn it Ben,” you seethed, not even daring letting anyone of those monsters hear his real name right now. “She is threatening Luke!” you whispered.

“The Jedi are cowards! They abandoned you! And you do not need to protect them because they will not do the same for you.” she shouted and looked at Owen. She stepped forward and hovered the blade right in front of his neck. You curled your fists, digging your nails into your palm as you watched Owen stand still, but his face showed fear.

You heard a hand slam down on a crate.

“Enough!” the green man shouted. “If you remember anything, a reward will be given.” he told the crowd.

“Stand down Third sister.” the man warned, you watched her glare and held her blade up. “Now!”

She deactivated her saber and walked away, you waited until they were out of sight before you ripped Obi-wan's arm away and headed toward Owen.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“Yes, I'm fine.” he replied curtly.

“Owen,” you said as quietly as possible. “If I had sensed those people coming I would've told you not to come to town today, I'm so sorry.” you said, the apology sincere. Being able to sense people like that is a large reason you kept your connection to the force in the first place. Owen looked at you and nodded.

“I know.”

You heard Obi-wan come up behind you, his hand grazing your lower back as if you would slip away again.

“Thank you owen.” Obi-wan said, the farmer glared at him.

“I didn't do it for you.” he said distastefully before walking off.

You felt your heart hammer in your chest, if that went any worse and Owen Gave away you and Obi-wan's position you'd be dead right now. You felt bile at the back of your throat as you stepped away from the man behind you and threw up. You didn't want to think of the odd looks you were getting right now as Obi-wan pulled back your hair as you quite literally threw up the adrenaline and fear your body had created in the last ten minutes. Your hands trembled severely as you felt an overwhelming sense of doom fill you, you hadn't been that close to someone so dangerous since the purge and you were not reacting well to it.

Tears began pricking your eyes as you spit on the ground, trying to rid your mouth from the gross taste.

“I cant breathe” you gritted out. “Need somewhere safe.” you gapsed, although your hyperventilating made the words sound choppy and was hard to understand.

You could hear Obi-wan's voice call out to you but you didn't understand what he was saying as your whole body began to tremble and blackspots dab the edge of your vision.

The last thing you remember was the feeling of your body falling forward.

🖾

When your eyes opened again, you felt like a speeder had run you over, your body stiff as you adjusted to the light. You recognized home quickly at the feeling mattress under you, the smell of home and the desert calming your nerves. Using your arms you slowly dragged your body up into a sitting position and began to move your legs to stand up.

“You leave that bed and I will not hesitate to restrain you.” Obi-wan's voice said from behind you, turning around and you saw him hold a wet rag in his hands, coming to sit with you on your guys bed and wiped the cold rag across your head and you sighed at the slight shock against your hot skin, the surprise on your senses proving a nice distraction for a moment.

“You haven't had an attack like that in years.” Obi-wan murmed. “I never get used to them.”

“I'm sorry,” you cringed at the sound of your rough and raspy voice. “I'm so sorry”

You were embarrassed at the way you reacted to everything, you always kept a front and tried to have those moments of sheer fear of your safety in private. Even after all these years there were times like today you felt like you were back in that temple.

“I thought Luke was going to get hurt, and then I assumed Owen would rat us out and I just…” you groaned in frustration. “I can usually keep them at bay until I'm alone. I don't know what happened.” Obi-wan put down the rag and pushed your hair away.

“They still happen?” he asked, a slight tone of disappointment jumped out at you.

You nodded.

“Not Often, like before.” you scratched the back of your neck. “ Now it's just once every few months at most.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” he said and you looked up at him.

“Because sometimes talking about it hurts more.” you admitted. “You of all people should know that.” you took a sip of water from your canteen, pleasantly surprised to see there was no taste of bile.

Did he brush your teeth while you were passed out?

“You're right,” Obi-wan said. “I do know, it's not fair of me to expect you to tell me when I hold myself back as well, I suppose.”

“Yeah well,” you shrugged. “Good thing I like you enough to excuse it.” you said, a small smirk twitching at your lips as Obi-wan rolled his eyes.

Obi-wan pulled you in and kissed you softly, chapped lips slotting perfectly against yours. Shuddering under his touch you wrapped arms around his neck dragging him closer. You went to grab the bottom of his shirt when you heard a loud beeping. You pulled away from him and looked around, searching for the source of the sound.

“What is that?” you asked, looking over at Obi-wan, concern growing when you saw his pale face. He quickly stood up and walked over to the table and pulled a small box from it. You watched in confusion as he clicked open the box and dug around, but soon quickly also paled at the sight of his jedi robes.

Which he kept in the same box he also kept the emergency holoprojector Bail Organa gave you both when he took Leia to Alderan.

You scrambled out of bed and joined him at the table as he grabbed the holoprojector and answered.

“Senator Organa?” Obi-wan asked.

You saw Bail and Breha standing together, Bail's arm wrapped around his wife's shoulder as she cried.

“Obi-wan? Y/n?” he called out, “It's Leia…something has happened.”

You and Obi-wan looked at eachother, your hand grabbing his bicep to ground yourself.

“What happened?” you asked, your anxiety from earlier quickly bubbling up.

“She's gone, we don't know who it was. There was no ransom, no leads but whoever they were, they knew where she would be. They…” Bail cleared his throat.. “They were waiting.”

“She needs you, both of you.” Breha begged. “We can't trust anyone else.”

You were about to respond, kriff you were about to pack a bag and hop on the nearest transport ship and head straight to Alderan but Obi-wan cut you off.

“What about the Senate?” he asked.

You turned and looked at him in disbelief.

“We cannot let this become public, it would draw too much attention.” Bail argued,

“Well what about a guard, or-or a bounty hunter?”

“Obi-wan!” you gasped at your husband, how is he not freaking out about this and being so dismissive.

“Only you two know how important she really is, if she is discovered…” the senator trailed off.

“We cannot leave here, Bail.” Obi-wan said. “Our duty is to the boy.”

“What about your duty to his sister?” Bail spat, but Obi-wan shook his head.

“It's been ten years, I'm not who I used to be.” he explained, and you watched the couple's faces fall. “Find someone else.”

You snatched the projector off the table and held it tight in your hands, Obi-wan looked over at you in surprise. You stepped away when Obi-wan took a step toward you and you backed away faster.

“Stay here!” you snapped. “I can't even-” you didn't bother to finish your sentence as you quickly left the cave, walking far enough so Obi-wan couldnt hear you.

“Bail, get any information about what happened and get on the soonest ship to Tatooine, I can try my best to convince him but the man is so stubborn I'm sure I'll need you too.” you demanded. “Even then if he doesn't agree to go then I'll go by myself.”

Bail nodded in response.

“Don't worry you two. if it's the last thing I do, I'll bring Leia home.” you comforted, tone softer. “I'll see you soon Bail.” and with that you hung up the call.

You sighed and rubbed your face, not excited for the argument that was about to start as soon as you stepped back into the cave.

You put the holoprojector in your pocket and made your way back.

When you stepped into the cave you saw Obi-wan still standing at the table, his arms crossed and looking ahead, angry and worried at the same

“You are being too reckless you know we ca-”

“What was that?” you interrupted, not caring for what he had to say. “The senate? A Bounty hunter!? That little girl is practically our niece and you want some random person to go save her?”

“We cannot leave the boy here alone.”

You glared. “He's not alone and you know that but Leia? She is, and whoever has her could kill her! I know we both think Luke could be force sensitive but what if Leia is too? She's just as important!”

“Do you think I don't know that?” Obi-wan snapped.

“From how you're acting? No I don't!” you exclaimed. “If you're worried about the inquisitors being here then i'll gladly turn myself in to get them to leave this planet if that will give you the incentive to go get her.” you mouth tumbling out the harsh words faster than you can think.

Although you quickly regretted the words when you saw the look of hurt on the man's face, you still continued on.

“What did we agree on when we decided to come here in the first place?” you asked. “For them, not just Luke and not just Leia. protect both of them.”

Obi-wan stayed silent and avoided your gaze.

You grabbed your shawl from the hook on the wall and slid it on.

“Just…sleep on it.” you suggested. “I'm going to go on a walk.” you both needed space from one other.

“I love you.” you called out softly as you left.

~~~~

Neither of you said a word to each other, you watched him leave for work silently. Sitting on the bed, your head rested against your raised knees as you thought about Leia. She had looked so much like her mother when she was first born you wondered if she continued to look like her or even act like her.

You didn't move much that day, your body almost stuck in the position well into the evening, until one of two suns began to descend into the sky and the security system went off. You sat up straight as you saw a shadow grow closer and reached under your pillow grabbing your Vibroblade. A hooded man walked in, and you stood up. Your garud high as you stepped forward.

“Bail?” you called out, the man turned to you and pulled down his hood. You smiled at the sight. Greyer hair and more weight on his form but still Bail Organa.

“Master Y/n.” he said, you raised a brow at the old title.

“Please,” you chuckled lightly, walking up to him. “That is a meaningless name now, y/n is fine.”

Bail shook your hand, his grip tense and clammy. You frowned at the anxious show of the usually level-head man.

“Have you spoken to him?” he asked.

“Yes, last night's discussion was very…unproductive I must say.” you looked at the watch on your wrist. “But Obi-wan should be home soon, I'm hoping you'll have a better chance with him. You're much more coherent with your words than I am.”

“I'm sure you did fine, you were always too hard on yourself dear friend.”

You laughed.

“Yeah well, thankfully I was better with A lightsaber than with politics.”

“You should have not come.” Obi-wan's voice announced.

You and Bail turned around, to see Obi-wan walking in. He gave a stare that screamed ‘Really?’

“She's heading to Daiyu,” Bail started. “They hid their signature behind a freight transport, the ship is on its way there now.”

“I can't.” Obi-wan sighed.

“She's my daughter Obi-wan”Bail begged

“I'm not the man you remember.”

“Well you're going to have to be!” Bail shouted.

“I can't leave the boy Bail!” Obi-wan argued, his gloves hand clenched at his side.

“This isn't about the boy and you know it!” Bail rubbed his forehead, soothing a worry line. “You've made mistakes, we all did. It's in the past…move on and be done with it.” he looked at Obi-wan.“You couldn't save Anakin, but you could save her.”

You watched the conversation anxiously, is that why he was scared? Did he think he'd fail?

You hoped not, or else that argument the night before was going to make you look like a jerk.

“And what if I can't?” Obi-wan asked desperately, pain and insecurity woven into the features of his face.

“There is no one I trust more with my child than you two. So please old friend, one more fight for her.”

Obi-wan stayed silent for a long time, you and Bial stood there patiently waiting for his answer.

“Okay… I'll do it.” he finally relented.

You smiled in relief at that, happy you didn't have to sneak off from him in the middle of the night. You glanced over at Bail and put a hand on his shoulder, trying to give him comfort.

“Go home, go to work like normal and tell no one our names or anything like that . The more kept under wraps the easier on everyone.”

“Whatever you say,” Bail agreed. “Just bring home my daughter.”

You gave him a determined nod watching Obi-wan shake his hand before he pulled back up his hood and leave.

You and Obi-wan both turned to each other, you looked down and cleared your throat thinking about what to say.

“I'm sorry- the two of you spoke at the same time, you chuckled when Obi-wan gestured for you to do first.

“I'm scared too.” you confessed. “No, actually I'm terrified of failing someone who needs my protection like I did back at the temple.” you laughed bitterly as you placed a hand on your chest. “But I can't live with another child's death on my hands, not when I could do something about it” you said, voice wobbling with emotion, Obi-wan frowned and grabbed your hand. “And I know you don't feel like you could be that person to help her after what has happened, but I know you can.” you wiped your eyes with your free hand. “We couldn't save Anakin or Padme, but we can help her and I think we owe that to them.”

“I'm sorry,” Obi-wan pulled you in. “You're right.”

You shoved your face into his chest.

“I'm sorry too.”

🖾

Your boots pounded into the packed sand of the town as you made your way to the transportation station, your hands constantly fidgeting your side to make sure the long v shaped bodice over your shirt crossed over your chest, long fabric draping over your hips and covered your recently retrieved lightsaber strapped to a harness on your thigh.

You felt like yourself again like this, the lightsaber at your disposal and with the former general at your side to the point You almost began to expect people to call you commander again.

You had been a commander with Ahsoka Tano during the war, often working with Obi-wan and his battalion on his flagship when you weren't on Coruscant.

You missed lwhen your biggest issue was hunting down General Grievous and protecting high profile senators.

You were too far in your own thoughts. You didn't notice Obi-wan stop in front of check in, your body slamming into his back and forehead hitting the hard muscle.

“Dank Farrik.” you said, as you stepped over and looked up at the taller man who started down at the ticket in his hand. Hesitance was radiating off of him and your hand laced with his and you gave an encouraging squeeze.

“Well?” the worker impatiently asked. “Are you coming or not?”

He looked down at you and you nodded.

“We can do this,'' you soothed, walking up to the worker and handing her your ticket while Obi-wan followed behind you with your hand intertwined with his, only letting go when you were on the other side waiting for the worker to hand him back his ticket.

The warm metal on your finger gives a stark reminder of how your present self was going right back into the life of someone you haven't been for long you thought that part of you left in the grains of sand ten years ago.

Or maybe, you thought for a moment.

That person never left.

Taglist:

@graciexmarvel

#obi wan kenobi #kenobi spoilers #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x reader #obi-wan kenobi fanfic #obi-wan kenobi x reader #darth vader #obi wan x y/n #obi wan imagine #anakin skywalker #anakin and obi wan #obi-wan show #star wars fanfiction #star wars angst #star wars oneshot

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trashikin · 2 years ago

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Previously, in Red Squadron

I was thinking through some of what being in the Rebellion was like for IWM Luke. I decided he was a little bit of a whore. And then I was like “oh, Red Squadron would have all the same members because changing Luke’s backstory doesn’t change theirs.” Then this goofy scene popped into my head, and it DEFINITELY will not ever fit in IWM. Might get alluded to, though.

Tw exhibitionism, semi-public blowjobs, WedgeLuke, BiggsLuke (ok the last two aren’t trigger warnings but y’know). No Vaderluke here

The hangar at Yavin was busy and crowded. It was awkwardly filled with ships and maintenance personnel, as much as would fit in the ill-shaped space. That much made sense to him, it wasn’t like the temple the Rebels used for a base was designed for a proper hangar. Or if it had been, which area was supposed to be a hangar was lost to time.

“Red Squadron just finished their CAP rotation for the day,” the commander escorting him explained, waving vaguely at a group of X-Wings that were being swarmed by mechanics. “They should be in the changing room, I’ll introduce you.”

It seemed an odd time to choose to introduce him to anyone, but he supposed there wasn’t a lot of time for “proper” things in the Rebellion. They walked down a short stone hallway until the commander stopped at a door. It was a standard door, obviously retrofitted into the ancient structure.

“Here we — “

The commander cut off as the door opened to the sound of good-natured jeering and catcalls. All they could see was a group of orange-flightsuited people standing in a circle, facing inward. The commander cleared his throat and the noise instantly died, some of the pilots shooting sheepish glances over their shoulders.

“S-sir,” several said.

The crowd parted, revealing one pilot kneeling in the center of what had been the circle. For a moment he thought the pilot was the sole woman in the group, but on second glance he saw he was wrong. The long blond hair, woven into a braided updo, was what had thrown him off. It looked elaborate, if mussed from being crammed into a flight helmet for the last few hours.

It could also have been from the face fucking he was currently receiving from the one man with his flightsuit half-undone. A man he knew, actually.

“Biggs!” Wedge abruptly pulled out of the blond man’s mouth and tucked himself back into his clothes. He gave his partner a hand to his feet.

“Commander,” the blond pilot added brightly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He had a grin on his face that said he was only mildly embarrassed at having been caught, instead of utterly mortified.

The commander did not bother to mask his loud sigh. This was apparently not the first time he had walked in on this display.

“Your Hi — Lieutenant Organa,” he said through gritted teeth, “it becomes increasingly difficult to reassure your mother of your well-being when I catch you doing things like this.”

“So don’t reassure her,” Organa replied, crossing his arms and cocking one hip. He raised his chin slightly, resulting in a move that made him look too aristocratic to have just been semi-publicly sucking someone off. “You don’t have to.”

There were a few titters from the other pilots, and the commander did not respond. There was some private joke here that Biggs was, apparently, not in on yet. If he ever would be.

“As Lieutenant Antilles said,” the commander barreled on, trying to reclaim control over the room, “Red Squadron has a new member. This is Biggs Darklighter, from Tatooine.”

Biggs raised a hand and let it drop, awkwardly. He did not usually feel at a loss, but this was an odder group than he expected.

“I helped Biggs defect from the Academy,” Wedge said. He strode over to Biggs and threw an arm around his shoulders. “He’s an ace, you’ll see. Get second place in no time.”

“Uh, thanks,” Biggs said. “Second place?”

“I heard nothing about any of this,” the commander said, turning on his heel and walking out of the door.

“Aw, c’mon, it’s good for morale!” someone shouted from deeper in the room. Almost everyone else laughed.

Biggs shot Wedge a confused look. He didn’t want to be the awkward newbie who didn’t get what was going on. But, well, he also was the awkward newbie who didn’t get what was going on. Wedge grinned and clapped him on the back.

“Sometimes at the end of a CAP rotation we have a short race,” he said. “Luke blows whoever gets second place.”

“Which is usually Wedge,” Organa added. He held out a hand for Biggs to shake. “Luke Organa, from Alderaan.”

Biggs took his hand, then started. He looked at Wedge again.

“Alderaan? Does he mean Prince Luke Organa?”

“That’s me,” Luke said, tugging on his hand slightly to get him to address him directly instead of turning to Wedge. “You don’t have to participate if you’re uncomfortable. I’m sorry you walked in on us without warning.”

His eyes were a bright blue, but had a strange depth to them. Biggs somehow knew that Luke could tell exactly how awkward he felt. It was not a hard thing to guess, but something about the way he had done it felt… off. He resisted the urge to rub gooseflesh from his arms.

“It’s fine,” Biggs said, finding some of his composure the longer he stood here. He decided to try for a joke, “I was just worried I would be expected to suck everyone off as some sort of hazing ritual.”

There was more laughter at that, and to his great relief none of it was cruel.

“I mean you can if you want to,” Wedge said. “But no, Luke is our resident exhibitionist.”

Biggs did not add that he would not be entirely opposed, just that it had surprised him. Something else made the back of his head itch, though, something he couldn’t quite place.

“Do you want to keep going?” Luke turned to Wedge. “I don’t have anywhere to be for another hour.”

Someone let out an encouraging whoop. Wedge tilted his head, then briefly raised his eyebrows at Biggs.

“What if instead we give our new friend a better welcome than he just got?” he suggested. “I win often enough.”

That was the last thing Biggs had expected. He felt the first stirrings of arousal at the suggestion. Luke shrugged good-naturedly.

“If he wants to and has a clean bill from Medical.”

Biggs nodded, in response to both. He was not lying, but also got the distinct impression that if he tried to, Luke would somehow know.

“Come here, then,” Luke grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled, walking backwards back to the spot he had been when Biggs first entered. “Just relax, and know we can always stop. For any reason. No shame in it.”

He should probably be the one saying those things to Luke, but before he could find any words Luke knelt and his fingers began undoing Biggs’ pants. He pulled his half-hard cock out of his underwear, and began to lean forward. Biggs put a hand on his forehead, stopping him. He realized what had been bothering him.

“Why second place?” he asked. Even for an exhibitionist, it made more sense to give such a gift to the winner of a race, not the runner-up.

Luke gave him a blindingly bright smile as the rest of Red Squadron burst into laughter. This time it held a little teasing, but still no cruelty.

“He wins every race,” Wedge said. “Nobody can out-fly Luke.”

Biggs knew Wedge well enough to recognize that he did not mean that they let some snooty Core World royal win each time. He was being earnest.

Luke flushed slightly at the praise, of all things, and shot Biggs one last grin.

“Welcome to Red Squadron,” Luke said, before sliding Biggs’ cock down his throat.

#iwm #my writing #not dark content #but the fic universe it’s from absolutely is #the heading for this in my WIP document is ‘Luke just really loves sucking dick okay???’

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spxllcxstxr · 4 years ago

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Cramps and Comfort • S.B

(GIF not mine)

Request: hi. I know you probably have a lot of requests and school on your head, but can I ask for a blurb/imagine with Sirius in the marauders era? so basically, before and while I’m on my period I get very insecure about everything about my looks. I’m crying about every little thing, I feel like shit and don’t have any energy. every single month. would you be comfortable writing an imagine where maybe he comforts the reader? Thank you!!! 🥺 — anon

Summary: Periods are terrible things, aren’t they? It’s a good thing Sirius is here to comfort you.

Warnings: periods, body insecurity, looks insecurity, cramps and all that, a litter self deprecating, comparisons, but Sirius comes to comfort you

Word Count: 978

A.N: uhhhh yeah I finished it! It’s shorter than what I would’ve liked, but I like to think I have some good Sirius dialogue in here! Also implied bi!Sirius because I hc him as bi so....hope you enjoy and I love you all ❤️

****

The mirror in your dorm room had been charmed to not show your reflection. You consider the day you mastered that spell in fourth year one of the best days of your life, considering how useful it’s been to you ever since.

Like today, as you pace around your room, cringing at the painful stabs shooting all over your torso.

You would absolutely love to lay back down in your bed, smothering yourself in your pillows and blankets, but you know that you wouldn’t get up ever again. And you don’t want to miss your date with Sirius, one he’s actively missing Quidditch practice to take you on.

But the cramps were bad and you’re pretty certain your face is contorted into a permanent grimace, simply unflattering.

This thought has you stopping dead in your tracks, sending your mind spiraling down into thoughts of similar nature.

Merlin, you must look like a wreck at this point. Just an hour before this you were crying in the shower, so your face must still be all blotchy and red, right? Your lip wobbles at how hideous you must look at the moment.

You feel bloated and uncomfortable in your own skin, and did you even want to show your face around the castle?

You’d embarrass Sirius by just walking next to him through the corridors!

Sirius Black deserves some pretty girl or handsome guy beside him, not you.

And that’s the final straw that gets you to bury yourself under your blankets and draw the curtains shut around your bed.

You draw your knees close to your chest, trying to relieve at least some of the pain that’s throbbing across your pelvis and curling down your spine. Small whimpers leave your mouth as you try to get comfortable in the most uncomfortable situation. Nothing seems to work so you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Oi, love!” You hear from the doorway to your dorm. “Usually I’m the late one...” Sirius’ voice trails off as his footsteps stop at the foot of your bed.

“(Y/n)? You here?”

You roll your eyes at his stupidity, just because the curtains are closed, doesn’t mean no one’s wallowing in despair behind them.

Just then, pain ripples through your abdomen, resulting in you letting out a low whine. With Sirius now alerted to your position, you hide your face in your sheets.

“Hey, what’s the matter? I should be the one bawling my eyes out considering my own girlfriend stood me up.” He jokes, chuckling.

Sirius brings his hand to lay on top of yours, caressing the back of it. His touch is delicate as he traces circles across your skin.

His nails are a glossy and fiery red, something Dorcas and Marlene did to him out of pure boredom during History of Magic. The red looks good on your boyfriend, usually he’s more of a black and silver kind of guy.

“What’s wrong, hm? Did something happen?” Sirius asks, his tone laced with concern.

“I just hurt.” Your reply is muffled by your mattress, yet Sirius hears you perfectly.

Quickly, he kicks off his boots, each one thunking against your nightstand.

“Well lucky for you, nine out of ten healers prescribe me as the prefect remedy.” He chuckles.

Sirius gets under the covers behind you, his chest pressing up against your achy back, one arm thrown over your torso. His warm hand rubs circles over your abdomen.

The gesture is soothing and alleviates some of your agony.

“Whoever that one healer is, they must’ve lost their gobstones.” You hum in content.

“Believe it or not, love,” Sirius remarks from between your shoulder blades. “it’s Poppy that disagrees.”

The snort that exits your body and practically echos throughout the dorm is disturbing and unfavorable, leaving you reeling back in disgust.

“Aw, that was adorable.” Sirius laughs, nuzzling closer to the curve of your neck.

“It was gross, Sirius!” You cry. “I’m gross!”

The way tears begin to flood your eyes is majorly uncharacteristic of you, usually any compliment from Sirius was treasured. But this time, it just sets you off.

You squeeze your eyes tight, listening as Sirius sits up from his position behind you.

“What’re you on about? Where’s this all coming from?” He asks, resting his hand on your shoulder.

“I don’t know, ok? I just don’t feel right!” You mumble into your sheets, more tears dripping onto them.

“Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, love. I wanna help.”

You can just imagine the wounded look on his face, how his big puppy dog eyes are piercing into the back of your head. They’re probably shining with unshed tears, too.

“I’m not pretty.” You argue.

“Not pretty?” Sirius gasps. “(Y/n), you’re the most gorgeous person here! The way your eyes sparkle and how your smile always manages to captivate me even though I’ve seen it thousands of times...”

You shift awkwardly at his confession, and you end up sitting with your back against the headboard, arms still cradling your aching abdomen.

“You’re just saying that because I’m your girlfriend.” You sniff, starting to rub your eyes with your sleeves.

“I’m saying this because I love you, (Y/n).” Sirius admits, cupping the side of your face. His grey eyes gaze deeply into your own. “I love you just the way you are.”

“But—“

“No buts, love.” He grins, his thumb lightly tapping your cheekbone. “I love you no matter what.”

Your lips wobbles at the sincerity in his voice, so you throw your arms around his neck, quickly burying your face into his shirt.

He pats the small of your back.

“You don’t have to cry, love. I don’t know how to deal with girls crying.” Sirius awkwardly chuckles, though he’s still squeezing you between his arms.

“Well get used to it, this’ll be a monthly occurrence.”

“Anything for you, love.”

•

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco @mullthingsoverinthehotwater

Sirius Taglist: @quindolyn @fific7 @msmb @lunalovecroft

#Sirius black #sirius black x reader #Sirius black fluff #sirius black blurb #sirius black imagine #the marauders x reader

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anika-ann · 4 years ago

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One Door Closes... (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, pretty much canon

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 2700

Summary: For Steve, your door is always open... or he thinks so. And even when it isn’t, it is.

In which one small Zoom mishap leads to an (un)usual ‘welcome home’.

Warnings: brief mention of blood and violence, lightest angst, attempt at humour, crack-ish, fluff and language

A/N: For @anjali750, because this is totally her fault. Thank you for inspiring me :-* Have a little bit silly weekend reading, y’all!

“Tell me about it,” Steve encouraged you gently, soft smile playing in the corner of his mouth despite the pain it must be causing him due to his busted lip.

You couldn’t but grin at the lenient picture he made. Feeling blood rush to your cheeks at the thought of him probably calling you cute in his mind if his expression was anything to go by, you obliged, proceeding to tell him about the new project at work.

Your project. Because somehow, you finally earned your boss’ confidence and could bring the great ideas in your mind to life.

You felt so giddy just talking about it! So you started explaining, excitedly gesturing with your hands so Steve would get the right visual and you grew so enthusiastic that you almost forgot to keep an eye on him.

But you were watching him – always.

His lower lip was split, but already healing – it would have healed much faster if he stopped tugging at the healing skin whenever he talked or smiled at you from the screen. He looked a little drowsy, a shadow of a bruise forming on his cheek, but as far as you knew, those were the only injuries he had; that and many hours of sleep to catch up on.

Steve had a habit of calling you via Zoom whenever he got back to the Tower from a mission. He usually took a quick shower and was online until the last second before he had to leave for a debriefing; the only reason why he didn’t head straight to your place.

He admitted once that he loved seeing your face and talking to you even if for a moment after a mission, that it grounded him. On a very sappy and loveable moment, he even called you his sun; and the fact that after few minutes of being with you – as much as technology allowed – his face always seemed brighter, made you think that it truly was how he felt.

Even exhausted as he was now, you could tell his half-lidded eyes shined with life unlike when you started the call.

And so you kept rambling, feeling your heart bursting with love for your man and with euphoria, because goddammit, finally some recognition at work!

“Well, obviously, to reach as much general public as we can, we’re gonna launch a world-wide campaign! World-wide!” you emphasized with a blinding grin, throwing your hands wide to demonstrate.

---and your fingers caught in a cord from the laptop, pulling at it.

Steve’s benevolent face disappeared as your screen went black.

Because of course it did.

You had been talking yourself into buying a new laptop or at least having this one fixed for a few weeks now, because this was always the result whenever you accidently unplugged it. The battery was useless, ready to retire.

“Motherfu--- ugh!“

You wanted to be mad at the device – but this was totally on you.

Sighing, you hooked up the laptop again, waiting for it to wake up from a coma, shooting Steve an apologetic text in the meantime. Closing your eyes, you let your forehead lightly fall against your desk, mentally cursing yourself.

Dummy. If you only weren’t so lazy… and didn’t hate certain aspects of adulting with so much passion… you could have been talking to Steve-

Your eyes flew opened when it felt like it was quiet for too long; no reply to your text. Dread filled you and you quickly reached for your phone again, this time to dial.

You prayed you were wrong; but as the phone kept ringing with no one to answer it on the other end, you felt misery creep up you back and whimpered. Sliding your phone on the tabletop, your not-so-deft fingers stumbled over the keyboard, harshly welcoming it into the world of living by opening Zoom again to reconnect the call.

Your breath hitched in anticipation as the window opened---

An amused and yet somehow unimpressed face of Natasha Romanoff welcomed you and this time, you didn’t bother slowing down as your head hit the desk. It hurt, but that was only a presage of the real pain.

“Nooooooo,” you whined loudly, faking and not quite faking a sob, because shit.

“Oh yes,” Natasha hummed nonchalantly.

You straightened a bit in your chair, narrowing your eyes at her as you noticed the corners of her lips twitching while she pretended to be busy checking out her possibly-mission-broken nails.

“It’s not funny.”

She snorted and glanced at your no doubt desperate face.

“It really is. But also kinda sad,” the spy noted, something resembling concern flickering over her face before she scrunched her nose, irises twinkling. “And disgustingly cute. It has Rogers written all over it.”

You glared at her some more, not even bothering to roll your eyes.

“Tell that to my landlord,” you muttered under your breath, leaning your elbow on the tabletop and dropping your chin to you palm. A second later, a brilliant idea hit you and you tried to manipulate your legs from under you.

The thing was, even if you had a pretty good idea of what was coming if you didn’t stop it and knew that it would be a bitch to deal with, Natasha was right.

In a way, it was utterly cute, disarmingly charming and entirely heart-warming. Your stomach fluttered, the fabled butterflies flipping their wings, your face grew hot and your heart… well, it felt as if it was growing in size.

It was also sad, heart-breaking even; Steve, especially after a mission, was a man running on instincts. It was one of the reasons why he had developed a habit of calling you, why he wanted to hear you ramble about your either boring or exciting but always wonderfully normal day. A day which involved no shooting and no blood besides papercuts and a quarrel with your stubborn boss who shoot you glares at best.

On a mission, these carnal automatisms often meant survival. But back home, Steve didn’t want to be a sum of instincts of survival, fight and fear; he wanted to feel again. And with you, he did. He wasn’t just a Captain America, a soldier to be put on battlefield whenever the general found fit. He was a human being. A wonderful one at that, with beautiful soul.

So yes. It was also rather upsetting.

And in a way, it was a little funny too. You knew it was totally your fault and that Steve was being kinda ridiculous, because he knew you and your inclination to wild gesticulations ending up catastrophically. On top of that, he was aware of this particular problem being almost a daily occurrence; hell, he tried to talk you into having Stark look at your laptop and failed.

And now... well. Here you were.

“You know, maybe if you get up and welcome him with door opened…” Natasha teased you with your own genius ides and you grinded your teeth, frantically trying to move your foot, which was pretty much on fire and yet dead.

“I would, but I… eh, pins and needles, was sitting on my feet,” you explained, embarrassed, testing whether your feet could carry you or not, naturally finding that without support, you’d be down before you could take as much as a step.

This time, Natasha didn’t snort in amusement.

Instead, she graced you with an outburst on honest full belly laughter, her red hair unfairly shiny for a woman who just spend week on a mission in damn Moldova and probably kicked more asses that you could imagine.

“You know what, Romanoff…” you grunted, forcing yourself to wobble towards the door. Very slowly. And cautiously. Knowing your luck, you might actually get hurt.

“I’m not even sorry,” she choked out and then continued to howl in laughter. “You so deserve each other. I finally know what the ‘idiots in love’ mean. Thanks for that!”

“You’re very welcome,” you huffed, voice dripping with irony.

Finally able to put full weight on both of your feet, you headed towards the exit – and entrance – of your apartment.

Halfway, you decided it was a lost cause. You would be willing to bet that the moment you’d touch the doorknob, you’d get hit to your face. It wasn’t worth it.

Yes, maybe if you did get hurt, it would make Steve think twice before coming all guns-and-shield blazing into your apartment; then again, it would probably cost you a broken nose.

Not to mention Steve’s tendency to get swallowed by the enormity of his guilt.

So not worth it. Best if you stayed put.

That was what you kept telling yourself when you stood there for about two minutes, in which you’d be able to open the door about forty times. Your annoyance – mostly with yourself and the cackling redhead – and the anticipation was becoming unbearable. As seconds ticked by, you were trying to convince yourself into taking the last few steps and opening the door and save yourself some trouble---

You yelped when the loud bang rattled your apartment the door sent flying of their hinges along with a spray of powered plaster despite knowing it was coming.

A glint of metal appeared next, the striking red, white and blue no longer there as it was covered in more bland colours for stealth missions.

And then a large figure cladded in blue shirt and grey jeans entered, his chest heaving, face flushed with red. Piercing blue eyes wiped of all previous traces of tiredness scanned the room, instantly falling on you as you awkwardly stood there, dumbfounded, startled and utterly speechless.

Also, much to Steve’s puzzlement, you were perfectly fine otherwise – even with both legs functioning, no remnants of pins and needles present.

Steve eased his posture instantly, eyes narrowing and then widening as he looked you up and down, lips parting in genuine surprise – and relief.

He said your name, clear and almost reverent, dropping the shield on the floor with a clang.

The ‘hi babe’ got stuck in your throat as you could see the tension leaving his shoulders, his eyes turning glassy and absent despite relief rolling off him in damn tsunami waves.

It hit you like a train – that you were delighted to see him, actually see him, even under these circumstances; and you truly didn’t want him to withdraw to some freaky brain-space after he had probably got one of the most ridiculous scares of his life due to the fact that his brain was not fully back in the normal world.

In the normal world where you abruptly disconnected a call without warning, because you talked too animatedly and not because some terrorist high on the FBI’s, CIA’s, NSA’s and SHIELD’s most wanted list found out you were Steve’s girlfriend and decided to take you out.

So to prevent another psychical horror trip of his, you went for distracting him – with a very relevant issue.

“You broke my door.”

Steve blinked, gaze refocusing on you fully, simply staring for a long moment.

“You went offline,” he objected quietly, a hint of accusation in his voice. God, you missed his voice.

“You broke my door, Steve.”

As if hearing his name was a spell, his frozen figure came to life and he took a cautious step closer, repeating his previous statement, this time with a hint of guilt.

“You went offline.”

“And you broke my door. That’s the second time this month, Steve! My landlords gonna k--- be real pissed at me,” you corrected yourself in the last second, not wanting say kill.

Steve ignored the slip and apparently got the message, his face twisting in genuine apology. “I’m sorry. I’ll fix it!”

With efficiency of a supersoldier, he spun on his heels and rushed to pick up the door as if it was lighter than a paperweight and swiftly put it in place.

Only for the door to slowly tilt his way again. He caught it with a loud curse and moved it aside, leaning it partly against the wall. The action sent more plaster down onto the floor, like the only truly white snow in New York City. Peripherally, you noticed Steve grimacing, his face an expression an epitome of yikes.

You let your eyes slipped shut, shaking your head with a sigh, but couldn’t but chuckle. When you looked at Steve again, he resembled a 240 pounds giant Labrador puppy, truly regretful, approaching you reluctantly as if he was afraid you would slap his big paws for being clumsy.

What he would deserve was for you to clip round his ear for impulsiveness, but could you blame him? God knew what he had seen in Moldova in the past week, what horrors he had lived through and what a nightmare his mind had created when you ‘went offline’.

Him barging in like this due to your own dumbassery was kinda sad; a prove of his demanding job full of terror.

It was cute and heart-warming, because he just cared for you that much.

It was a little ridiculous, because as Steve finally crossed the distance between you two, the head of your elderly neighbour peeked from behind the empty doorway, puzzled and rather concerned.

You snorted unattractively, the scene in front of you seeming epically hilarious all of sudden.

“I’m good, Mr. T!” you called over Steve’s shoulder after the poor man who gossiped like an old woman and was just as hospitable. “Just my boyfriend fussing because of a technology fail!”

A grin spread on his wrinkled face; a testimony to years of laughter and amiability. “Oh. Hi, Mr. America!”

“Afternoon, Mr. T! I am verry sorry for disturbing you.”

The older-looking man waved off Steve’s politeness.

“It’s fine. You keep taking care of your lady, Mr. America, and keep her safe!”

“Yes, sir,” Steve humoured him with a salute, earning a wink.

As your neighbour walked away with a fresh topic for his Sunday tea party, Steve turned his attention to you again, eyes searching, wide, apologetic – but also soft, taking in the view of you, revelling in it.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he whispered lowly, the lopsided smile you loved so much gracing his face, once again pulling at that damn split lip. You grimaced a bit, the sight of him almost brining tears into your eyes; the gentleness and the remnants of fight punching you straight in the gut.

His eyes fluttered close when you lifted your hand and traced the line of the bruise on his face with the lightest pressure you were capable of. This time, tears definitely prickled in your eyes, but you blinked them away, cupping Steve’s cheek and pulling him close.

“Oh come here, babe,” you breathed out, fingers carding through his hair as he leaned his head on your shoulder, lips brushing the crook of your neck, strong arms embracing around your form.

He was warm and big and held you a bit tighter than necessary and dammit, you loved your sweet of heart and occasionally dumb of ass boyfriend. Boyfriend, who was crazy in love with you. Sometimes with emphasis on the crazy.

“I missed you, sweetheart,” he muttered, nose nuzzling the sensitive skin of your neck, breathing in deeply. You pretended it didn’t do things to you as he did everything to get lost in you and leave all the bad behind. You failed.

“You’re totally paying for fixing my door.”

Well, maybe not failed entirely.

“Of course,” Steve assured you dutifully, no hint of humour in his voice.

It broke you on a completely new level; he was serious. Dammit you loved this man!

“I missed you too,” you finally admitted and this time, he did chuckle, squeezing you even tighter, hand running up and down your back. Without any warning, he tightened his grip and lifted you from the floor so you had to cling to him entirely, causing you to gasp.

You never got the chance to gather your wits and comment on that, because an annoyed voice of a certain redhead sounded from your laptop.

“…alright, you crazy kids, you had your cuddles. Now, Rogers, should I tell Fury you’re coming back for the debriefing or should we just finally change with the times and do it over Zoom?”

Clutching Steve’s waist and shoulder, face contentedly in his chest, you voted for the latter.

Steve Rogers masterlist

Lovely divider by whimsicalrogers.

A fic from collection ‘This was supposed to be a drabble.’ Also, I couldn’t for the love of god figure out a better title.

I hope you enjoyed at least a bit :-*

Thank you for reading!

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers fluff #captain america fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #marvel #mcu #one door closes #anika ann

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someonestolemyshoes · 3 years ago

Note

So... during the time skip, Hange is on a business trip to Marley. Levi stays home to deal with some installation or important project for Hange, gets injured in some stupid way, falls off scaffolding or something. And he doesnt think too much of it because it's such a stupid way to get injured. And he hides it even when it gets worse and Hange is the only one who notices because she knows him so well. BUT when she gets back, it gets worse. And Levi hates hospitals so Hange forces him to go <3

Hello! Thank you so much for the prompt :) I’m not super thrilled with the way this one turned out, but I had a lot of fun anyway, and I hope you enjoy it! Angst ahead, if that’s not your thing.

(Drinking game: take a shot every time Levi says he’s fine)

Levi was no stranger to pain. While he had been luckier than most, Levi had sustained his fair share of injuries. Bruises and breaks were commonplace. Pain became easier to handle, wounds less debilitating to endure.

It didn’t make them hurt any less.

It wasn't a particularly bad accident, but it was a particularly stupid one.

Hange had been tied up in meetings for days, stuck inside Sina with other military personnel, with carnivorous media, with business moguls eager to ensure their pockets would be well lined by any negotiation plans with Marley and their neighbouring countries.

She had taken Armin and Jean alongside her; Armin had a mind with similar mechanics to her own, and as such he was best suited to help her formulate a compelling case with their higher ups, while Jean had attended at Levi’s insistence. Hange had already made it clear that, with Armin gone, they needed somebody to oversee continued construction on the railway line, and Levi, uneasy with the idea of Hange being without an attack dog, had demanded Kirstein attend in his place. The brat was becoming something of a budget Moblit, always trailing after Hange whenever she was around—Levi thought he looked a little pitiful, following her around like an eager puppy, but he supposed he was grateful for it now, if it meant he had no objections taking a trip into the interior with her.

Levi had been left with the rest of the brood. Eren and Mikasa worked diligently, though Eren—distant and despondent as he had been since the Queen’s address after Shiganshina—remained sullen, while Mikasa alternated between shooting Eren looks of concern, and staring scathingly at Levi whenever he came into view. She tolerated him far better, these days, but Levi was unsure she’d ever fully forgive him for his public display at Eren’s trial.

No matter. She did as she was told, reluctantly as may be. Connie and Sasha, on the other hand, were proving problematic.

They lacked focus. The four of them were working on construction of a rail house near the coast, somewhere to store equipment for maintenance, with a few flat beds for workers to rest in between commutes. The walls were coming along, but the space was still lacking a proper roof, covered only by tarp to keep the metal beams and frames inside from rusting before they could be treated and on the tracks. Eren and Mikasa were working quietly on one side, while Connie and Sasha were goofing off on the other.

Levi clicked his tongue. The work was, in theory, far less hazardous than slaying titans had ever been, but they were still a couple of stories in the air on flimsily constructed scaffolding, without any gear to catch them if they fell. The drop wasn’t deadly in itself, but the inside of the half-built hut was full of great mounds of metal, beams and poles and wires covered only by papery thin sheets. A fall onto that, from this height, would result in breaks and bruises at best.

"Oi,” Levi called, making his way around the rickety structure. Connie and Sasha either did not hear him, or chose to ignore him. That had been happening upsettingly often, of late; whatever intimidation tactic Levi had employed when they were still bratty kids had lost its effect. Connie teetered around Sasha as she tried to smear mortar on his cheek, edging along the scaffolding on only his toes until he made his way around her. Levi picked up his pace and called again, more of a snarl this time, a warning, but Sasha let out a shriek of delighted laughter as she managed to slap a trowel full of mortar on the top of Connie’s head. Neither of them heard him.

“You fall and break your necks and Hange will kill me,” Levi said. Sasha twisted to look at him but offered only a smile. Levi was within feet of them, when Connie moved quickly behind Sasha—he was doing nothing suspicious that Levi could see, but Sasha, awaiting retaliation, tried to scurry hurriedly away. Her foot missed the edge of the scaffolding, and there was a fraction of a second in which her eyes widened, body tilting, before Levi moved.

His hand closed around her wrist. With a sharp tug, he jerked her back onto the safety of the scaffolding, but in his rush to grab her he hadn’t the time to brace himself—with his weight unbalanced, the force of his pull sent his body careening forward, tipping over the edge of the plank.

He barely managed to release his grip on Sasha before he lurched over the edge.

It didn’t make them hurt any less.

Levi hit the beams with a resounding clatter. Metal clanged and wood splintered, dust gathering in great plumes as Levi hit the tarp. The beams, built with enough strength to hold steam engines, had no give to them—Levi struck one solidly with his side and his body bowed around it. Something—his ribs, his spine—crunched on impact. The sudden stop made his neck whip down, temple cracking hard against the stone floor.

Every last drop of air punched out of his lungs and a white, dizzying pain exploded in his head. He slumped the rest of the way to the ground, gasping fruitlessly, but his chest, all empty, crushing pressure, would not expand, would not allow for a single wheezing breath.

He lay in a heap on the cold stone. Dimly, he could hear voices, the clatter of feet on wooden planks and the echo of sturdy shoes on the scaffold poles as the kids clambered their way down to him, but everything sounded muffled and distant, warbled by the pound of his pulse and the rush of blood in his ears. He blinked rapidly, squeezed his eyes closed to push the fuzziness from the edges of his vision, then gathered himself slowly, shifting to lay on his back. His every muscle felt tight, seizing from the shock of the impact and sharp, stabbing pain, but despite the tension, something in his side felt loose. He sucked in a few small breaths, pausing at every spike of pain before trying again, and then he pushed himself up to sit. His head felt thick and full, stuffy, too heavy for his neck to hold up. It throbbed with the change of position, a crack of pain so sudden he thought his skull might split in two. He resisted the urge to grab at it as the kids’ footsteps sounded close by, several sets of feet scuffing and clicking against the stone.

Levi pre-empted their concern with a wheezy, “I’m fine,” as Mikasa, followed swiftly by the others, rounded the corner and stopped short of him. “Get back to work.”

None of them moved. Levi focused his swimming gaze on them as well as he could, attempting a glare, but the corner of his eye and the side of his face felt fat, skin tight over the rapidly swollen flesh, and his breathing was tight, uneven, chest jerking with each attempt to fill his empty lungs. Nobody looked intimidated by the sight of him—in fact, all four of the little brats looked almost frightened.

“Captain…” Eren said. Levi scowled, fought not to wince.

“I’m fine.” Gritting his teeth to muffle each pained grunt, Levi grabbed a nearby beam and used it to drag himself up to his feet. His head spun, the ache intensifying to something almost unbearable, and that, coupled with the sickening grinding sensation in his side as he straightened up, was enough to make him sway on the spot. Mikasa was the first to step forward, hovering awkwardly. Levi suppressed the manic urge to laugh—there was some irony somewhere in Mikasa, grudge so steadfastly held, being the one ready to catch him if he fell. Levi shooed her away. His chest ached something terrible, a persistent, resounding swell behind his rib cage. It should be impossible to feel so full, so bloated, yet so empty at the same time.

“You should rest a little more,” Eren said, at the same time Sasha erupted with a wailed apology. Connie looked pale and guilty behind her.

“Hange wants this—shitty thing—finished, by the time—she gets back.” Levi hitched stilted breaths as he spoke. He took a careful step forward. His side screamed, and his head pounded, but he remained upright, which was good enough. He passed by Connie and Sasha, who both looked ashen-faced, and clicked his tongue against his teeth. They’re too tall now, so tall he almost lost his precarious balance when he stretched up to pat them both roughly on the head. Then he brushed past them with as much ease as he could manage.

“Hurry up. The damn walls won’t build themselves.”

Levi had expected to be better by the time Hange returned.

The pain had not subsided at all in the three days that passed between the injury and Hange’s arrival—if anything, it had intensified, and Levi’s bouts of dizziness and breathlessness were near constant. He hid it as well as he could from the others, compensating with vicious scowls and quick, barked instructions, but he couldn’t escape their concerned glances.

The building, at least, was almost complete. They had laid the rafters for the roof the day before, and were hammering on the felt when Hange, Armin, and Jean appeared in the distance.

The weather was blisteringly hot. Eren and Connie had removed their shirts long ago, while Sasha and Mikasa had tried fruitlessly to keep their hair off the base of their necks and out of their faces. Despite his lack of manual labour Levi was just as sweaty as the rest of them, though his skin was pale in comparison. He had argued, albeit rather feebly, to do his part in aiding the construction, but the damn brats had put their foot down on that, at least—as such, Levi had spent the last three days sitting beneath the shade, glumly watching their progress.

He stood when he saw the horses approaching. The others climbed down from the scaffolding, wiping sweat from their hands and faces. They cast Levi a sidelong look, and he glared in return.

“Not a word,” he reminded them coldly. Levi had already demanded that they keep the details of his incident quiet. The swelling on his face had gone down some with the aid of a bag filled with cold sea water, but the bruises were persistent, mottled from his eye to his ear. He could play it off as a far smaller incident than it was, so long as he could keep the ugly welt on his torso well hidden. The bruising there was dark, a deep, violent shade of purple, wrapping around his side and bubbling out over his back.

Eren looked uncertain. Mikasa gave him a stoic, level look, while Sasha and Connie still looked sheepish, avoiding his gaze. They had apologised profusely, and on multiple occasions, for causing such a mess. Levi had, at their insistence, scolded them for messing around, but in truth he had little energy left to care.

Hange waved as soon as they were close enough. She kicked her horse on, Jean and Armin following dutifully behind her. The three of them pulled to a stop and dismounted, leading their horses to shade and water, looking tired, but satisfied. Levi kept his angled down, twisted to one side. He was prolonging the inevitable, he knew, but if he could get Hange talking about the meetings, or with some luck the upcoming expedition, or maybe even the mostly completed rail house, Levi could at least wait until they were alone before Hange battered him with questions.

All three of them had dark circles under their eyes. Armin yawned widely, he and Jean bumping into one another as they walked. Hange, as tired as she looked, strode forward with a delighted confidence—Levi, in spite of himself, quirked his lip in a small smile. It has been too long since Hange looked excited about anything. The prospect of an expedition had breathed some life into her.

“We’ve still got to work out some kinks,” Hange said, “but things are looking good. We’ll set up another meeting with Kiyomi. It might take a little while, but we’ll get out there ourselves. See the world with our own eyes, and—more importantly—let them see us.”

Connie and Sasha exchanged excited glances. Mikasa and Eren shared a more subdued look. Levi understood both perspectives—the prospect of venturing out into the world opened them up to a lot of risks. Each of them carried targets on their backs. One wrong move, and they would be in trouble. But, if all goes according to Hange’s plan, there would be plenty of reward. Freedom was worth any price they could pay, if only they can secure it.

Levi listened as the group reacquainted. Eren and Mikasa seemed pleased to have Armin back in their company, while Sasha hounded Jean endlessly until he relented, and surreptitiously pulled a small pack of cured meat from the inside pocket of his jacket. He had the decency to look embarrassed when he caught Levi’s eye on him, but his abashed expression quickly turned to one of confusion when he caught a good look at Levi’s face.

“The hell happened, Captain?”

Hange, who had been quietly engaged with Armin and the other two, looked around. Levi tutted and curled his lip, letting his fringe fall to cover part of his bruised brow.

“None of your business,” he said. His chest spasmed and he clenched his teeth, fighting the sudden urge to cough. “If you’ve still got the energy to stand around talking, you can get up there and help them finish the damn roof.”

Jean, who either hadn’t quite developed the same immunity to Levi’s brash tone as the rest, or was nervous about Levi scolding him for stealing food from the interior, nodded once and shrugged out of his jacket. Sasha’s eyes followed longingly as he hooked it over the nearby cart sitting on the tracks, but then her gaze shot back to Levi, and she scurried after Jean towards the rail house.

The others followed. Hange’s eye was still on him, and she waited until the group had scrambled up onto the scaffolding and picked up their tools before she crossed over to him. She bent a little, tilting her head to get a good look at his face. Hange let out a low whistle.

“Quite the bruise,” she said. Levi gave her a somewhat guarded look, and carefully shrugged one of his shoulders.

“Brats were messing around,” Levi said simply. “Caught me with a stray elbow.”

He didn’t dare look Hange in the eye long enough to determine whether she believed him. He nodded towards the rail house and said, “They’ll be done in a few hours.”

Hange beamed, bracing her hands on her hips. “They’ve made good progress! I wasn’t sure they’d get it finished by the time we made it back.”

“You wanted it finished,” Levi scowled, “those were your orders.”

“Calling it an order is a little harsh, Levi.”

“You’re our commander, Hange,” Levi said. “You tell us to do something, we do it. By definition, it is an order.”

Hange grimaced. It had been years since Shiganshina, years for Hange to come to grips with the position that had befallen her, and to her credit she had taken to it admirably enough, on the outside. It was only in small, private moments like this that she allowed herself to show doubt. The lack of cooperation from Hizuru had been a blow Hange had expected, but hoped to avoid—she had worked hard on her proposals and her negotiations had been sound, but the rejection stung nonetheless. With each new trial and each new error, Hange felt herself all the more lacking. Her distaste for her own position, for Erwin’s faith, grew stronger, and showed face more often.

Levi took in her sullen expression and winced internally. After a moment of heavy silence, he said, “They give you a hard time?”

“Who?”

“Zackley. The reporters. The kids.”

Hange let out a low chuckle. “Zackley’s as rigorous as ever. Picked apart every last thing we had to say, highlighted every possible flaw in the plan. Made us work hard, as usual. The reporters...asked a lot of questions we didn’t have answers to. They’ll smear our names in the papers tomorrow, no doubt, but it can’t be helped. We did our best. Armin was a huge help, though. He’s still a little nervous, but—so clever! So full of interesting ideas, and he negotiates well. He’ll make a good commander one day.”

“And Kirstein?”

“He’s an excellent paperweight,” Hange said, shooting Levi a sideways grin. “I appreciated the company, but I think we would have been fine without him.”

“Never know,” Levi said gruffly. He couldn’t be sure whether it was the heat of the sun or simply standing too long, but Levi was beginning to feel woozy. Breathing was still a chore, a concentrated effort to suck air into his aching chest and let it out again without choking, coughing, and more often than not he felt lightheaded. He nodded towards the boxes he’d been using as a seat over the last couple of days. “Sit. You look like shit.”

“For once, I don’t think you get to judge me for that.”

Levi had already begun walking stiffly to the boxes, and made no comment. He had no valid argument to give—he did look like shit, far worse than Hange, and he felt even shittier. He dropped a little heavily onto the box and bit back a grunt of pain.

Hange sat next to him. The box shuddered. Levi tensed as pain lanced through his side. He took in a quick, sharp breath, holding it high in his chest when the pain intensified. He could feel Hange’s eye on him and clenched his teeth, fighting to keep his face somewhat neutral.

“You sure you’re okay?” Hange said to him. Levi grunted. He busied himself taking slow, shallow breaths, staring resolutely ahead, avoiding Hange’s keen stare. “You look a little clammy.”

Levi made another quiet noise. Levi wasn’t very talkative at the best of times—this, he knew Hange was aware of, and most of the time Hange was content to fill the silence herself, but today she was quiet, and watching him too closely. Scrutinizing. Levi had often praised Hange for her powers of observation—she had an incredible eye for detail and a knack for spotting patterns and anomalies, a talent which had served the Survey Corps very well, but right now, Levi was cursing it. He didn’t need Hange surveying him.

He was hurting. He’d had a near constant headache since the incident, and his chest felt tight, riddled with pain both dull and sharp, stabbing whenever he breathed too deeply or gave in to the pressing urge to hack out a cough, but more than that, he felt unwell. Groggy, sickly, light-headed. His heart beat frantically, and his skin did feel clammy, cold sweat sitting on his brow. He stared ahead, blinking the fuzziness from his head and resolutely ignoring Hange’s steady stare.

Hange’s palm pressed to his forehead. The sudden touch made him jump—his muscles tensed, his ribs screamed in protest, and Levi let out a strangled groan, biting his tongue a second too late to trap the sound.

He was barely aware of Hange’s fussing as he fought to draw breath. Air grated in his battered lungs as Hange’s hand pressed flat to the back of his neck, her voice warped and muffled in his ear as she felt his sweat-damp skin. His vision tunnelled. He blinked rapidly to clear the black spots and wheezed in the humid air. His chest felt like it might split open, pressure billowing out from behind his ribcage, pressing agonisingly against his damaged bones.

He breathed short and shallow until the haze of pain lessened. Hange’s voice was loud beside him, the sharp, deep bark she used when she felt it necessary to assert her authority. Through the fog in his head he could barely make out her words, but he knew exactly what it was she was demanding. Sasha’s voice was meek in comparison, but it still carried over the distance enough for Levi to hear her.

“It was an accident,” she was saying. “It was our fault—my fault—”

Levi hissed through his teeth. Hange’s hands—one still at the back of his neck, the other curled around his arm—tightened their grip on him.

“Drop it,” Levi said. “Stop grilling them. It doesn’t matter what happened, I’m fine.”

Hange had the audacity to laugh, but there was no humour in it. “Fine? Levi, you can’t even move. You can barely breathe! What the hell did you do?”

“Fell,” he said shortly. His voice sounded weak, but he didn’t have the breath to put more force behind it.

“From where? When? Hell, Levi, when did this happen?”

“Hange, leave it.”

Hange turned her question to the rail house, and Connie answered immediately. Traitors, Levi thought scathingly. Mikasa explained without prompt that they didn’t know the extent of his injuries, that Levi had refused a proper medical examination despite the head wound that had left him unable to stand straight. She explained that they had managed with very little effort to get him to observe the construction from the ground, which, it seemed, was enough to concern Hange—Levi wasn’t the type to sit around doing nothing. He despised being idle and she knew it.

“You should see a doctor, Levi.”

“I’m fine—”

“No, you’re not. What else did you hurt? Just your head?”

Levi felt ill. Hange’s persistent questions were making his head spin and his entire body felt sore and spent. He mustered enough strength to glare at her, but nothing more. Hange was watching him carefully, brow furrowed in concern, but at his silence her expression hardened, and she stood abruptly. Levi bit back another groan as the box moved beneath him.

“You can ride, then?”

Levi squinted up at her. “Hah?”

“If you’re fine, you can ride back into town with me.”

No. “Sure.”

Hange stared at him a little longer, waiting, no doubt, for him to backtrack, admit defeat. Levi clenched his jaw and maintained steely eye contact. Hange narrowed her eye at him, then turned towards the rail house.

“Oi!” Hange called up, cupping a hand around her mouth. Six heads turned their way, popping up over the roof. “We’re heading back early. Leave the scaffolding when you’re done, we’ll send for it tomorrow. Good work!”

She turned on her heel and headed towards the horses, still tacked and tethered beneath the shade of a small copse of trees.

“We’ll go get your head checked.”

“Hange, I said I’m fine.” It was a weak argument, made even moreso when he stood too abruptly and swayed on the spot. Hange darted back towards him and steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, and a little of her angry resolve cracked, worry creasing her brow. She led him, more slowly now, towards the horses with her hand hovering over his back. He braced himself for the agony of her touch, if she pressed her palm against him, but Hange—perhaps in fear of not knowing what other injuries he had sustained—didn’t touch him.

“Humour me,” she said. “If you’re really fine, and it’s really nothing, no harm done. I’ll feel better knowing, and you—” she drew them to a stop by the horses and turned to face him fully, grinning, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, “—you get to say I told you so.”

Levi said nothing. The thought of riding for hours on end made him feel nauseous.

“This is pointless,” he said. “I’ll rest here, if you’re so worried.”

Hange shook her head at him. She untied her own horse and Jean’s, holding the reins out for Levi to take.

“We’re going back now, Captain. That’s an order.”

An hour into the journey, Levi began to struggle in earnest.

No part of the ride had been pleasant—the heat was oppressive, and the motion of the horse required a fluidity in his hips and back that sent sharp jolts through his side with every step. Hange was uncharacteristically quiet, occupied instead by watching Levi from the corner of her eye. His head pounded with increasing intensity the longer they travelled, and between the pain, and the scorching sun, and his pitifully shallow breathing, Levi was feeling more faint by the second.

It was an unsettling sensation. Injuries were always difficult, but Levi had never felt so completely wiped out by physical damage in the past. Three days was enough time for his body to at least begin healing, but Levi had seen no improvement since the moment he struck the beam during his fall—if anything, he’d felt worse by the day.

Now, he was fighting to keep himself upright in the saddle.

They were approaching another clump of trees, great leaves wilting in the heat, when Levi, jaw tight and teeth bared, grunted out a request that they stop.

Hange looked torn. She wanted to hurry back into town, and was already impatient enough that Levi had requested they walk—”It’s too hot, for the horses”—but something on his face must have reflected the severity of his discomfort. Hange directed them to the treeline, dismounting and taking Levi’s reins while he did the same. His feet hit the ground and his knees buckled.

Hange caught him about the elbow but only after he had sunk to the grass. He felt shaky, weak, but more than that he felt vulnerable. Realistically, Levi knew that there was no shame in being hurt, in needing help, but he was a stranger to it. He had been self-sufficient since he was in Kenny’s care, and had grown up with the express understanding that showing weakness was a death sentence. And then again, in the Survey Corps—an injured soldier was titan bait.

There were no titans now, but Levi felt distinctly exposed, sitting in the long grass with his vision swimming and his lungs burning, barely functional.

Hange knelt next to him in the grass. She brought a hand up to his face, fingers curling against his jaw. Her gaze darted over his face, all of her righteous anger forgotten as she took in his state. Levi wanted to shake her off, to shake off the spinning in his head, to stand up and get back on the horse and continue their journey, but he couldn’t find the strength to gather his legs beneath him. Hange’s hands—one on his arm and one still on his face—kept him sitting upright.

“Levi…” Hange said slowly. Words sat on his tongue, reassurance that he was fucking fine, that he just needed a minute, but try as he might, he couldn’t get enough air in to voice them. His chest bubbled and rattled as he drew in a thin breath.

“Levi,” Hange said, sharper this time. Levi blinked blearily and searched for her. Neither of them were moving, but Hange’s image wavered and blurred in front of him. He swallowed. Wheezed. His heart hammered in his ears. Hange’s fingertips found the pulsepoint in his neck, pressing, counting. “Levi—what else hurts?”

Levi swallowed thickly, a nauseous tremor under his tongue. After a moment, he choked out, “cracked a few ribs, probably.”

Hange sucked in a sharp breath. “Let me see.”

He didn’t have the strength to fight her as Hange began unbuttoning his shit. He swayed where he sat, struggling to balance without her hands keeping him upright, until he heard Hange’s hiss as she uncovered the bruises wrapping his chest and back.

Levi looked down and grimaced. The bruising was worse than he remembered, stretching further up his chest, dark and mottled, the flesh tight and swollen.

“Levi, this is bad,” Hange said. “We need to get help.”

“Just need rest,” Levi said. His voice sounded slow and slurred in his own ears. Hange’s hand cupped the side of his neck, her thumb tipping his jaw up to look at his face. His eyelids felt heavy.

“I know it hurts,” she said, “and I know you don’t want to move, but—Levi, please. C’mon, I need you to get up.”

It had been a long, long time since Levi had heard that frantic tone from her. She sounded urgent, panicked. Desperate. Levi dragged his eyes open, but found he couldn’t focus on her face anymore. His lungs protested violently as he tried to speak, only coughing instead, dry and hacking. His chest burned.

Hange dragged him to his feet. Levi’s limbs felt heavy and clumsy, detached and completely out of his control. He leaned heavily into Hange’s side as she moved him across the grass.

“C’mon, Levi—work with me.”

Hange hefted him up onto one of the horses. Her horse, he realised, as she clambered up with him. She settled behind him, her arms gripping the reins either side of him. Levi tried to sit up right, but as she kicked the horse on, he slumped back with a low groan. Hange’s voice rumbled through her chest when she spoke.

“You good?” Hange asked quietly, and then, “stupid question, of course you’re not.” Levi found the strength to scoff, but it was a pitiful sound, and followed swiftly with another pained grunt and a fit of coughing. “Bear it a little longer, okay?”

Consciousness drifted, as they rode on. Levi was dimly aware of the sun on his feverish skin, and of Hange’s warm, solid body at his back. Her jaw brushed his head when she moved. Her voice was constant now, a rumble up his spine and in indistinct mumble in his ear. At times he could pick out her words, but his comprehension was hazy, mind unable to string sentences together, to find meaning in her chatter.

In this state, there was no focal point for the pain. It was consuming, indistinct but ever present, impossible to isolate in any one location. His whole body ached. His breathing was quick and laboured. There was no real respite even in this state.

Hange’s hand repeatedly found his throat, fingers feeling for his frantic pulse.

Time passed strangely. The ride seemed to last a lifetime, with Levi waking a thousand times to agony, consciousness barely breaking before he succumbed again to his feverish dozing.

At times, he awoke to new sounds and new sensations. The echo of multiple voices around him, all talking frantically over one. The scratch of crisp sheets beneath his bare back, the click of shoes on tiled floor. New, stinging, fiery pain, sudden and excruciating enough to make his body jolt in discomfort, followed swiftly by strong hands on his arms and legs to keep him still. Cool air blowing gently over his heated skin. His hand caught in a loose, tangled grip.

The aches in his battered body settled, localised. Levi felt it acutely in his chest, though the pressure no longer felt as intense. Breathing still hurt, but the air came easier now. He felt his lungs fill with it, little by little, for the first time in days. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly in the light, then rolled his head slowly to look around.

The small window had been cracked open, the fresh, cool air lifting Levi’s fringe, tickling at his brow. Thin morning light poured in, illuminating the small, sparsely furnished room. Besides the bed he lay on, there was only one small table and a stiff, uncomfortable wooden chair.

Hange was slumped low in the chair. Her legs were sprawled out in front of her, her chin dropped to her chest while she slept. She had discarded her military jacket, eye patch, and glasses in a heap on the floor, and her sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, the top buttons of her shirt undone and splayed open. Her hair hung limp and ratty around her face. She looked pale and exhausted.

Levi’s tongue was dry, tacking to his teeth and the roof of his mouth. It took him three attempts to say her name, and when he did it came out raspy and ragged. He tried to move, to reach over and nudge her awake, to ask what the hell had happened since he’d last been lucid—but as he leaned over a sudden, white hot agony ripped through him, tearing into his side.

He gave a strangled groan and pressed himself back into the mattress, squeezing his eyes closed as he rode out the spasms. Wood scraped by the bed; Hange must have startled awake at his outburst. Levi squinted an eye open to see her blinking rapidly, rubbing her knuckles into her eyes before scooping up her glasses and taking in the sight of him.

The pain subsided little by little, though Levi didn’t dare move again. Hange sat on the edge of her chair and reached for him, her hand stopping short of his and falling to grip the bed sheets instead.

“How you feeling?”

Levi cleared his throat. “Like shit.”

Hange managed a weak smile. The bags under her eyes were considerably darker than they had been before, her skin paler, papery. Levi frowned at her. “You still look like shit.”

Hange waved him off with a small laugh, sitting back and scrubbing her hands over her face. She hung her head over the back of her chair, fingers pressing into her eyes beneath her glasses. She sat for a long while, observing the backs of her eyelids. Levi watched her through pinched eyes as the burn in his side settled to a more familiar ache.

“Don’t do that,” Hange said, voice strained by the stretch of her throat. “Don’t do that again.”

“Which part?” Levi said.

“All of it. Don’t get in stupid accidents. Don’t pretend you’re fine when you’re not. Don’t—”

She stopped short, then, with a sudden hitch of her breath. Levi watched her dig her fingers harder into her eyes, watched the bob of her throat as she swallowed reflexively. For a moment she was quiet, then she sat up straight and turned watery, bloodshot eyes on him.

Hange was strong. She was a far more emotionally available person than he could ever be, but she had an incredible capacity to compartmentalise. To switch off. To accept the necessity, the inevitability of loss, to evaluate and recalculate and move forward. Hange mourned—Levi had witnessed the aftermath of it plenty of times before, repaired broken tables and reorganised upended bookshelves in the wake of her disaster—but she mourned later. Alone. Felt all her fears and frustrations in isolation, away from prying eyes.

Hange wasn’t the type to cry at peoples besides and beg them to live.

And yet.

“Don’t leave me on my own.”

“It wasn’t that—”

“You dare tell me it wasn’t that bad and I’ll kill you myself.”

Levi clamped his mouth shut. Hange was glaring at him like she might really mean it. Instead of arguing, he said, “what’s the damage?”

Hange slumped forward, elbows on her knees and head hung low. “Broken ribs. Ripped up a few muscles in your back. Collapsed lung. The air pressure in your chest was restricting blood flow to your heart.” She put her head in her hands and dug her fingers into her messy hair. “You got so fucking lucky, Levi. If we hadn’t left when we did—”

He watched silently as Hange groaned into her palms. She breathed deeply, back and shoulders raising as she did.

“You could have died.”

“I didn’t.”

Hange’s head shot up. “By the skin of your teeth, Levi. You—” she took a long, steadying breath, but her voice still shook as she continued, “—you were barely breathing. You couldn’t talk to me, you would hardly even respond to me.”

“Sorry.”

Levi wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to say. Hange looked distraught, her composure tenuous. Levi’s fingers twitched on the sheets, itching to reach out and touch her, offer some kind of reassurance that he was here, he was fine—but he wasn’t fine, and moving so far was out of the question. He gripped hard at the sheets instead. “Sorry.”

“Not you as well,” Hange said quietly. Levi’s chest tightened painfully at her tone—she sounded so small in that moment. Scared. Levi wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her sound so frail before. “What am I supposed to do if you—” she cut herself off again, shaking her head.

“Same thing you always do.” Hange curled tightly in on herself. Levi turned to stare at the ceiling instead. “You keep going, Commander.”

“Don’t. Don’t do that.”

“One day or another, everyone you care about eventually dies. You said that.” He listened as Hange’s breath hitched, but refused to look at her. “It sucks. It hurts. But we keep moving forward.”

The mattress dipped by his hand. Levi rolled his eyes down, and found Hange hunched out of her chair, her face pressed into the blankets. Levi sunk his fingers quietly into her hair.

They lapsed into a painful silence. Hange hiccupped and sniffled now and then, while Levi scratched lightly at her scalp. After a long while, Hange spoke again.

“I know those were my words,” she said thickly. “But I can’t accept that. Not now. Not after everything.”

“Stubborn,” Levi said quietly. He pulled lightly at her hair until she raised her head, wiping her cheeks and nose messily on her arm. “Disgusting.”

Hange managed a bare, wobbly smile. Levi’s hand fell from her hair as she straightened up, and Hange scooped it up in both of her own. She played absently with his fingers, curling and flexing them, rubbing her thumb over the lines on his palm. She seemed to be gathering herself, brow a little furrowed in thought.

“I know we can’t guarantee anything. I know how uncertain our world is. But just—” Hange paused, closing Levi’s fingers around her own, then looked up at him with a fierce determination. “Promise me anyway.”

Levi blinked sluggishly at her. “Promise you what?”

“That you’ll survive.”

Levi tensed. “Hange…”

“Indulge me. Just this once, please.”

A promise of that kind was unrealistic, Levi knew this. Hange had said so herself: there were no guarantees. Except, that wasn’t quite true—death, at least, was a constant. The only inevitability they had. The island may be free of titans now, but the threat of attack loomed over them like a persistent storm cloud, black and heavy, ready to give at any moment. And accidents, as he had painfully learned, could happen in the blink of an eye.

Levi was resilient, but he wasn’t invincible.

But Hange was looking at him steadily, her resolve unwavering. She wanted his word here and now. Needed it, maybe, but Levi knew her. Hange valued honesty over everything else. There was no way she could feel at ease with such an empty promise.

Levi sighed.

“You’re a brat, you know that? Looking at me like that.”

Hange’s gaze held firm. Levi felt her grip on his hand tighten.

“I can’t promise shit like that, Hange,” he said. She squeezed his hand tighter still, and her body tensed, shoulders drawing up to her ears. “You know I can’t. Nobody can.”

For one horrible, gut wrenching moment, Levi thought she might cry again. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes but when she opened them again, her good eye looked terribly blank.

“You’re right. Sorry, sorry!” She let go of his hand and sat back in her chair, hands resting on her legs instead. Her voice sounded lighter, more like Hange, but there was something off about it. Something forced. Strained. She adjusted her glasses but didn’t meet his gaze again.

This was the Hange he knew. The Hange who could bury her feelings in the moment, squash them down and push them aside to focus on the rational, the plausible. Seeing her like that didn’t relieve him the way it should have. It left a sour taste in his mouth and a discomfort in his gut, knowing that he was the cause of the grief she felt she had to hide.

It was stupid, the whole situation—how a moment of carelessness lead to this; Levi bedridden, and Hange struggling to hold herself together.

The space between them grew stagnant. Hange seemed a little lost in thought, gaze caught blankly on Levi’s blankets, while Levi watched her, waiting for her to say something else, to change the subject, to be Hange again. But Levi was never one for giving inspiring speeches, and in truth, he didn’t know that anything he could say now would make anything better. Hange would do what Hange always did—wait until she was alone, and vent in whatever way she could.

And Levi, as soon as he was able, would do what he always did, too—pick up the broken pieces and mend as much as he could.

“You should rest.”

Hange blinked tiredly over at him. It had been an age since Hange looked well-rested, years since Shiganshina and the exhaustion of that particular battle had never left her. The burden she carried—everything Erwin had left behind and all that they had discovered since—was so impossibly heavy, the expectations put upon her too much for any one person to handle. Hange had enough to deal with, she didn’t need to be worried about him, too.

“Eat something, bathe. Sleep. I’ll still be here when you come back.” After a pause, he added, “I’ll promise you that much.”

Hange gave him a weak, wry smile as she fished up her eye patch, strapping it into place and righting her glasses over it. “I guess I’ll take that. And then tomorrow, you can promise me the same again.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever. Go.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll nap for a couple hours and come back. You should sleep some more too, you know. It’ll help you heal faster.”

Levi grumbled in response, and grumbled louder still when Hange stepped up to the bedside, but he fell quiet when she leaned over, brushing his fringe back from his forehead and pressing a small kiss to his hairline. It was such a simple gesture, and nothing out of the ordinary—Hange had been a physically affectionate person as long as he had known her, always grabbing and hugging and kissing whenever she got the chance—but there was something so tender in it, this time. Levi’s eyes fluttered closed.

Hange lingered longer than was strictly necessary, and yet it still didn’t feel like enough. Levi could easily have let her stay close, feel the warmth of her breath and the softness of her lips on his skin until he drifted into sleep, but she straightened up after a moment and Levi was left instead with the cold breeze from the open window. Levi blinked sluggishly up at her. His own exhaustion barrelled in, making his eyes sting, lids heavy. Hange folded her jacket over her arm and pushed the chair into the corner, out of the way.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” She said.

“Mm.”

“You’re gonna feel like you got crushed by a titan when the pain meds wear off, so make the most of it.”

“Got it.”

“And you should let the doctor know if anything changes. Straight away, don’t wait around.”

“I will.”

"And there are nurses around, if you get hungry or thirsty. The bathroom is just down the hall too, but they've got bedpans if you need to—"

“Hange.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Hange had already crossed the room as she spoke, but she paused in the doorway, fingers curled around the frame. She deliberated with herself for a moment longer, then said, “hey, Levi?”

“Hm?”

Hange chewed on her lip, contemplating something, a faint blush building on her cheeks. And then she shook her head, gave him a small smile, and said, "Ah, doesn't matter. Sleep well."

She left quickly after that, closing the door quietly behind her. Levi stared at the space she'd vacated, brow a little furrowed; her hesitancy confused him.

But he was tired. His body hurt. His head felt thick and fuzzy, and without Hange's presence to keep him occupied, he consciousness began to drift.

Tomorrow, he thought hazily. He would ask her tomorrow. For now though, he would follow his own advice; for now, he would rest.

#snk #levihan #my writing #man I had a hard time with this in the end hjhgjj I can't say I'm that satisfied with it #but!! I am sticking to my philosophy after the Drabble week #someone somewhere will like it #levihans relationship ended up more ambiguous but hey ho #also ended up being a lot of angsty hange

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asciendo · 4 years ago

Text

In too Deep

Your friends with benefits with Zuko was the best distraction from the upcoming battle with Ozai and Azula.

But what happens when you slowly begin to catch feelings for Zuko but Sokka sets him up on a date?

It’s been six months since you and Zuko started your little fling. Both of you were the newest members of Team Avatar, Zuko being the redeeming Fire Prince and you being the daughter of a banished Fire Nation general who Zuko and Sokka rescued from the Boling Rock along with Sukki and Sokka’s dad. You’ve known Zuko since you were children but never interacted that much.

Both of you got on each other’s nerves at the start, both being stubborn on how to teach Aang how to fire bend. You knew deep down Zuko was meant to be Aang’s fire bending teacher but that didn’t mean your suggestions didn’t matter.

“I told you, you should teach him to learn how to flow with the energy, not just shoot fire out!” You rolled your eyes as Zuko huffed with a confused Aang stuck in a bending stance behind him.

“He has to learn how to hit his target, am I right?” Zuko marched towards you as you both continued to argue.

“Uhm, I feel like you both have good points, ha ha ha” Aang was always in the middle of your arguments and tried to defuse them, but he knew trying to control two hot heads was almost as difficult as defeating Fire Lord Ozai.

Your argument continued as Aang fell asleep, tired of waiting for his lessons to resume as you and Zuko were almost at each other’s throats, which resulted in Zuko shooting a fire ball on the tree where Sokka was sleeping. “HEY!”

“See! Look what you made me do!”

“What I made you do?! You threw that fireball all on your own!”

“If you hadn’t interrupted my training with Aang, we would be done by now!”

“If you just listened to someone else’s suggestions, Aang would be a better fire bender!” You and Zuko were literally in each other’s faces now, the only thing missing was smoke coming out of your ears as both of you were fuming at one another.

“If you weren’t such a know it all, I would never have gotten angry!”

“Well, you should learn to control your temper!” At your last outburst, both of you stormed off on your own.

“Am I ever gonna learn fire bending?” Aang sighed as he laid on the ground in defeat.

It seemed almost impossible for you two to start your fling, but one night you were practicing your bending on your own, then you suddenly heard footsteps behind you. Zuko.

“What do you want?” You rolled your eyes as Zuko approached you. “You have to let me teach Aang on my terms. I’m his teacher, not you.”

“I’m not trying to be his teacher, you’re just not teaching him everything.” you hated how he made you feel small and less capable, you knew you were a strong bender, almost beating Azula in a match once, and Zuko made you feel like your abilities weren’t good enough.

“I don’t need your help.” Zuko growled as he stepped closer to you. “What? Your ego can’t take a few suggestions, Prince Zuko?” His eyes narrowed at his title and he stepped closer to you till your back was against a tree. “Don’t call me that.” he said through gritted teeth.

“Why? What are you gonna do?” You teased and Zuko’s face turned into a scowl. Suddenly he was closer to you and your faces were almost touching. His exppression turned from anger to softness and you chucked nervously at how silent he became.

, “Zu—“ before you could finish Zuko’s lips were on yours.

You shot back in shock as you couldn’t believe what was happening. Your relationship with Zuko was more of a complicated one, filled with banter yet, deep understanding with your somewhat common past. Of course you found him attractive, with his shagy black hair, toned body and gold, piercing eyes, but you never thought anything like this would happen between the two of you. “Y/N..I-I’m so—“ this time, before he could finish, you crashed your lips on his. You didn’t know what it was but it just felt right, being with him in this way. His lips were chapped but still soft, although as the kiss went deeper you could feel the intensity in the way he grabbed your back and how you tangled your fingers in his hair.

That started your secret “fling” as you called it. Both of you didn’t want the others to know as they were just getting used to the idea of having two fire benders on Team Avatar. They didn’t suspect a thing as your bickering didn’t stop, but at night Zuko would secretly slip in your tent and you two would spend the night together. This happened every night ever since.

You noticed Zuko change a little bit towards you. He took your suggestions when he was teaching Aang seriously and on missions he’d always make sure he was near you.

There were moments when the both of you would sneak off while the gang was distracted, it was easy since you mostly camped out in the open.

You and Zuko would find an empty cave or under a tree far away and you’d get lost in each other.

Those nights when he’d have nightmares of his father, you’d be the one to comfort him. The same with you when you’d dream about your father, who you haven’t seen since you left the Fire Nation. It scared you how vulnerable the both of you were with one another.

One day, when you were bickering, Zuko went too far and made a snarky comment about your father. You looked at him with not just anger, but with fear, you were letting him in. You backed away and left the camp for a bit. He didn’t say anything that horrible, you were mean to him too. You questioned him about betraying Iroh and he replied by calling you out for not fighting hard enough to stay with your family.

It was true, you could have been in hiding with them, but you wanted to do something more for the world. You weren’t hurt by his words, but terrified how it was so easy for you to hurt each other, your fling was supposed to be something fun and to forget about the stress of trying to save the world.

You were in your tent, trying to sleep but failing. The sound of someone crawling into your tent startled you, but you already knew it was him.

“I’m sorry.” You didn’t move, you pressed your eyes shut and tried to pretend as if you didn’t hear him.

“I know you’re not asleep, Y/N.” He lowered down and was sitting next to you, “I said I was sorry alright?” his voice was low but husky and you could her traces of desperation.

“No.”

“What do you want me to say, I’ll say it!”

“Shhh! Are you crazy!” You sat up and attempted to cover his mouth but he dodged your hand. “I’m sorry, okay? I was a jerk, I didn’t mean it.” he looked into your eyes and you knew he was genuine. You weren’t being fair to him, you’re not hurt by his words but scared about what you were starting to feel for him. “You just...you just rile me up so much and my temper...you know how I get and I say things I don’t mean...I shouldn’t be that way towards you, I’ll tell Aang you can teach himsometimes..” you stared at him with such confusion, he was rambling. He only rambles when he’s nervous, and he was nervous with you.

“Are you gonna stop talking or are you going to get in here?” you chuckled and motioned to the space next to you. Zuko sighed then squeezed in next to you in the sleeping bag. “I’m sorry, too.”

Zuko sighed then looked down at you. You faced up towards him expecting to feel his lips on yours, but instead, you felt his lips on your temple. That night was the first time both of you just slept, entangled in one another, and in your heart you knew you were doomed.

6 months later...

“I saw you, you know...” Katara winked at you as you both were gathering water at the nearby lake. “What?”

“I saw you.” She followed you as you continued up the stream. “I see you too?”

“No...I saw you...and Zuko.” You stopped in your tracks. “Yeah, we travel together, Katara. We see everyone every day!” laughing awkwardly you began to gather more water.

“Uh-huh.” You could hear the eye roll in her voice as she walked in front of you with her hands on her hips.

“What exactly did you see?” sighing and giving up, you knew it was useless to lie. You were caught.

“Not much, thank god but...try picking a cave not so near the apple trees next time?” Katara chuckled.

You knew exactly what she was talking about. Zuko had a hard training day with Aang and he needed to blow off some steam, which was what you were there for.

It was your turn to feed Apa so you were gathering fruits for him until you felt strong arms around you.

“Zuko, bad timing, I need to feed Appa.” You smiled, but his grip tightened. “I need you, now.” He grumbled, but you weren’t budging.

“Y/N, please.” His breath was hot on your skin and your body tingled, but you liked to tease him so you broke off from his grip and walked away. You turned towards him and you could see the desire in his eyes, the desire for you. “If I feel like it.” you said as you lifted a tiny bit of your top, revealing your toned abdomen.

Zuko growled and walked towards you and pushed you up against a tree. “I need you.” He whispered and you smirked. “Then show me.” You stared at him with longing.

Zuko chuckled then lifted you up, then you straddled him. He spotted a cave near the tree you were picking apples from and carried you towards there. He placed you on one of the rock formations and you pulled him closer with your legs.

“Show me how much you need me.”

He smirked then crashed his lips on yours. Then the two of you were lost in each other once more.

You ended up telling Katara everything, she said was surprised but also not so much. “So you had a feeling?”

“A little, not really? I mean, you guys are always at each other’s throats but he has been a little bit more... I don’t know concerned about you?” She explained how she noticed that he let you give your input on Aang’s training more, and how when they have a new mission, he made sure he’d be paired with you and she even told you how he talked to Aang about how you shouldn’t be anywhere near the line of fire when the war starts. The time when you and Toph went on a mission to figure out where Boomie was, Katara told you Zuko was pacing back and forth and cursing at how he didn’t go with you, and how it should have been basically anyone but you that went on that mission. “I never knew why, but now everything makes sense.”

You sat there for a minute then opened up to Katara about how scared you were about your growing feelings. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, seeing how he’s acting, he probably feels the same.”

The two of you made your way back to camp and found Zuko and Sokka laughing with each other. “What’s so funny?” Katara asked.

‘Zuko just scored a date!” Your heart dropped, but you tried to keep your exterior composure calm. “ What date?” Katara asked nervously as she just heard your story and encouraged you.

“We were in town and the girl at the hat store kept following Zuko, like NON-STOP! He didn’t believe she was into him but it was SO obvious! So I forced him to ask her out and he did!” Sokka punched Zuko on the arm playfully and Zuko laughed. “You should thank me, maybe having a girlfriend will make hot head over here less moody.” Sokka plopped down on the mat next to Toph and all you could think about was torching Sokka to no end. “So, when is this date?” Toph asked boredly next to Sokka. “Tonight?” Zuko laughed, “Well you better get ready lover boy.”

“I’m gonna give some water to Apa.” You announced and Katara followed you. “I’m SO sorry, I never would have encouraged you if—“

“Katara, it’s not your fault, you didn’t know, and besides...maybe this is a sign I should call the whole thing off?” you sighed and Katara nodded slowly.

“Oh sorry...am I interrupting?” behind you was a looming Zuko, grinning sheepishly as Katara stared daggers at him. “No, I was just leaving.” Katara huffed and left you two alone. “What’s her problem...”

You continued to separate the water for Apa as you heard him approaching you. “So...I’m seeing you tonight, right?” you stopped, tonight? Wasn’t his date tonight? Your heart suddenly felt lighter as you thought he cancelled with hat store girl.

“Isn’t your date tonight?”

“I mean...after?” your heart dropped. He was still going through with it. You felt your face turn red with anger, what were you to him? An object he can go to whenever he has his needs?! A simple plaything? It started off as that but you thought you somewhat meant more to him.

“What’s wrong with you?!” You stared at him with a hurt expression, his eyes widened and he stopped in his tracks. “What do you mean what’s wrong with me?”

You grunted and he shrugged in confusion.

“Zuko...we have to talk.”

“Uhm...okay, but I kind of have to get ready—“

“We should stop.” Zuko tilted his head as if questioning what you just said, but you knew deep down he understood what you were saying. “Stop what?”

“This! Whatever we’re doing!”

“Why? Is it because if this date? I just won’t go—“

“No, it was fun while it lasted but we’re just postponing the inevitable...you should go.” you turned away to continue with what you were doing. “Postponing the inevitable? What do you even mean by that?”

“We’re just holding each other back. We know this isn’t going anywhere and we’re just delaying it. Go, have fun. It’s time.”

“You wanted this too, you know! You said it was all fun and just a distraction! No commitments, no promises, nothing! You would remind me every night—“

“Exactly! We had our fun and now it’s over!” you turned towards him and his face was full of anger. “I can go on a date, we can do whatever we want! That was our agreement!”

“It was so why don’t you just go!” you tried to control your voice so no one would hear but it was so hard, you were so angry. “I am! I just told you I was going and you snapped and said you wanted to end it!”

“Because I’m not just some play thing you can get whenever you want! I’m not disposable.” You were inches in front of his face and you could feel the anger radiating from him. “What do you want from me...” he whispered and for a moment, it seemed like he was truly asking you what you wanted him to do, and for a second, you knew he’d do it if you asked. “Nothing.”

“You’re unbelievable!” Zuko, raised his arms in exasperation. “Me?! You’re the one going on a date.”

“You said you didn’t care.”

“I don’t.” You did. You did care, too much. This all started out for fun, but, you were in too deep with Zuko, and you couldn’t let yourself fall for him. “Then why are you ending it?! I don’t understand.”

“I just told you! I’m not just something you can just take when you feel like it!”

“Then tell me what you want!” He was up in your face again, you didn’t know what you wanted. You wanted Zuko, but you weren’t allowing yourself to want him. “I want this to end, and I want you to go on your date.” You said softly, and you saw a glimmer of pain in his eyes. “You want to end this so bad? Fine, it’s DONE. You just lost me.” He said with gritted teeth and began to walk away.

“No Zuko, I didn’t...because you can’t lose something you never had.” He turned around and stared at you with wide eyes that turned to sorrow. His expression quickly turned to anger that you thought you imagined seeing the sadness in his eyes.

“I’m leaving.”

“Go!” and he did. That was it. Your “relationship” with Zuko was over, and he was off with some other girl.

The next day you were on your way to Ember Island on Appa. Zuko had a hood on as people might recognize him when they arrived. Sokka kept asking Zuko how his date went but he would just shrug. “Well sorry for trying to get you some action!” Sokka rolled his eyes and Katara hit him, “Ow! What was that for!”

When you got to Ember Island, the whole gang hit the beach. Sokka and Suki were running around, Aang was making sand castles, you and Katara were in the ocean and Zuko was left sulking on the balcony in his ancestral home.

“I used to come here with his family, you know.” You told Katara as you played in the water. “You grew up together?”

“Not really, my father was a high ranking general so we’d be in the same vicinity, but no contact whatsoever.”

“I think you should talk to him...”

“Nah, I think it’s for the best, better to cut it off while it was still early.” It hurt, being around him, knowing your whole relationship was over. Even if it was nothing from the start, you started to get your hopes up and, it came crashing down.

“I don’t know...you both seem miserable now that you guys broke up—“

“We were never together.”

“Come on, Y/N! You both obviously like each other, you just don’t COMMUNICATE!” Katara rolled her eyes which made you laugh. “I think his date or whatever was a sign...it was getting too complicated, it’ll be for the best.” Before Katara could react, you both heard Sokka’s voice.

“Hey! Some dudes invited us to a party, let’s go!” Sokka yelled and the gang agreed to go, they needed a little fun before having to deal with the larger issue at hand, defeating the Fire Lord.

They were on the way to the house on foot with Aang dancing on the way there, Katara giggling, Sokka and Suki walking hand in hand while you and Zuko walked awkwardly next to each other.

As soon as you got to the house, a guy opened the door and invited you all in. The house was filled with fire nation teenagers and you all dispersed among yourselves. Sokka and Suki were dancing, Aang was showing fire bender girls some tricks, Katara was checking out the house and Zuko was sulking in the corner.

You decided to get some punch then someone tapped you on your shoulder. “Hey, I’m Han.” A tall, tanned and muscular guy was smiling at you. “Hey I’m...” you decided not to use your real name unless someone recognized you. “I’m Hania?” You mentally kicked yourself for choosing a name so close to his. “Hmm, interesting, so close to mine.” He winked and you blushed. He was cute, and from the horrible day you had, you needed some harmless flirting.

From across the room, Zuko stared at you two by the punch bowl. “Hey, lighten up! They are a bunch of hot girls here!...but don’t tell Suki I said that.” Sokka shrugged and nudged Zuko. “Zukoooo” Sokka tried waving a hand in front of Zuko’s face but Zuko kept his eyes on you and Han. “What are you looking at?” he looked where Zuko was gazing. “Oh, Y/N’s found a boyfriend ha ha.” Sokka chuckled and walked away and left Zuko there fuming.

“So, do you come here a lot? I haven’t seen you around Ember Island before.” Han asked you as he poured you a drink. “I used to when I was a kid, haven’t been back since.”

“Oh, why not?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, things change I guess?” you looked around for your friends just to make sure they were still there, then you locked eyes with Zuko. His eyes were intense and you could tell he was angry. But you didn’t care, you were nothing, you both made the decision to stop whatever you were doing with one another and you needed a little fun. “Do you wanna go look at the moon outside?” Han nodded and you both headed out to the balcony.

Zuko’s heart dropped as he saw you two leave.

“You’re an idiot, you know that right.” Katara rolled her eyes as she leaned next to him on the wall. “What?”

“I-D-I-O-T.”

“How am I an idiot?” Zuko shot up from leaning on the wall and Katara laughed. “You are so into her.”

“No I’m not!” Zuko crossed his arms and turned away from Katara. “I didn’t say her name, how do you know who I meant?” Katara kinked her eyebrow and Zuko rolled his eyes.

“You’re maybe the least happy person I know but when you were sneaking off with her, you were more tolerable for the rest of us.”

“Wa-wait what? Sneaking off—“

“Cut it out, I saw you guys.” Katara smirked and Zuko sighed in defeat. “Fine, we were fooling around. But that was it. I am NOT into her!” he started to walk away but he heard Katara giggle. “Then why have you been shooting daggers at the guy she was talking to all night?”

“B-because! He could be a spy of the Fire Nation! Her father was a recognized general you know! He could be targeting her and we’re all doomed! AND what if he’s working for Azula—“

“Uh-uh.”

“Stop looking at me like that! I’m not in love with her all right!” Katara’s face froze at Zuko’s last statement. “Love?!”

“What?”

“Are you in love with her?!” Katara started to smile as Zuko’s face turned bright red. “I said I’m NOT in love with her! Are you deaf?!”

“Zuko, I didn’t say anything about love in the first place...you said the word first.”

“So! I just said it to make a point, got it?” He leaned back on the wall and hung his head low. “Well, do you?” Katara asked him again.

Did he love her? All the times they were fooling around, he stared at her while she was asleep. He remembered feeling a sense of peace knowing she was next to him. He started to even look forward to their conversations in her tent rather than the physical stuff. He thought of how she’d throw her head back laughing whenever he told her about Uncle Iroh’s prankster antics when he was growing up. How her eyes shined in the moonlight when they’d take walks after dark. How when it was dusk and the sun would reach her eyes just the right amount and you could tell they were actually golden brown.

Zuko thought about the nights when she’d knowingly wrap her arms around his waist when he was having a nightmare about the Agni-Kai with his father. How her eyes lit up whenever she talked about her family. He thought about how he always wanted to protect her, if they had missions he wouldn’t be able to concentrate if she wasn’t near him, or how he couldn’t keep still when she was out on a mission with Toph or Katara, anxiously waiting for her to come back...to him.

“Shit” was all he said and slumped to the floor and buried his face in hands. “I thought so.” Katara smirked then sat next him. “What did I do? Agh! Why am I so bad at this stuff?” he grumbled and Katara just laughed. “You should tell her how you feel.”

“No! She’s off with that bonehead over there! It’s too late, maybe it’s for the best.”

“Ugh! You two are exactly the same!” She rolled her eyes and Zuko shot his head up. “What do you mean we’re exactly the same?”

“You both don’t simply TALK to each other! ‘Maybe it’s for the best’ my ass!”

“Huh?” Zuko looked at Katara with such confusion that Katara scoffed at him.

“You both said the same thing!”

“About what?” Zuko had no idea what she was talking about. “When you went on that date! She said “Maybe it’s for the best” that you guys break up.”

“She cared about that?” Katara stared at Zuko with astonishment; she didn’t think Zuko was this clueless.

“Zuko,,, I know you’re not stupid, but how do you think she felt when she found out you were going on a date?!”

“I didn’t think she cared...”

“Well she did.” Katara threw her hands up in defeat. How could boys be so stupid, she thought.

“Oh...” Zuko looked down and started remembering their conversation. He noticed the hurt in her voice when she accused him of treating her like an object he can just take whenever he wanted. He felt a pit in his stomach, he didn’t mean it to come off that way. “I-I didn’t even want to go it was Sokka!” Zuko tried to defend himself but Katara gave him a knowing look and he sighed.

“Fine..I was...starting to have...feelings for her...every night—“

“Aah! I don’t wanna hear what you guys do!” Katara began to cover her ears. “Calm down.” Zuko rolled his eyes.

“Every night...she’d always talk about how what we were doing was just a distraction...how this would eventually end...how we shouldn’t commit to one another...I mean we were sneaking around after all.” Zuko looked at Katara for her input but she motioned for him to continue.

“I agreed to it at first, obviously. But over time...I-I uhm...” Katara could see how hard it was for Zuko to express his feelings. Which made her feel bad about how much he holds in especially with how hard his past was. “You fell for her.” Zuko nodded.

“I went on that date because I was...scared. I was feeling too much for her and I knew she didn’t see it going anywhere, I wanted to prove to myself it was nothing. That my feelings for her weren’t real and I could just stop whenever I wanted. But when I went on that date...no matter how much the girl threw herself at me, I knew I could have had anything I wanted with her.” Katara rolled her eyes at that statement.

“I just...couldn’t. The whole time I was thinking about Y/N and what she said to me, how it was over and why it was over, I knew I fucked up the second I asked her out.” Zuko finished. “When did you fall for her?”

It was five months into your fling. You and Zuko were tangled up in each other in her tent. You were just talking about their old lives in the Fire Nation and if they’d even be like this with each other if they both have never left. He laughed at how he would still be trying to prove his honor to Ozai and how you would probably be part of Azula’s crew with Mai and Ty Lee. Both were slowly drifting to sleep until you popped your head up and looked at him. “Zuko?”

“Hmm.”

“Your mother would be proud of you...you know, with the choices you made.” You went back to sleep but had no idea Zuko lay awake all night thinking about you said.

“AW! That’s so cute!” Katara exclaimed, “Alright, alright!” Zuko rolled his eyes. “So, what do I do?”

“You have to figure that out for yourself, lover boy.” Zuko winced at that name as he watched Katara walk away.

The moon was beautiful that night. You and Han talked about your lives with you lying about some aspects of course, but it was nice to talk to someone who had no idea who you were and was genuinely interested in you.

“I’m really happy you came tonight, you should come to Ember Island more often.”

“I’m happy I came too.” You smiled. Han was looking down at you and he started to lean in closer. You knew he was going in for a kiss but you weren’t sure if you wanted to. Your huge fight with Zuko was just the day before and at the moment, you couldn’t imagine kissing anyone else. But before you could decide on what to do, you saw a fist fly to Han’s face and he fell to the floor. Zuko.

“ZUKO!” You shouted but Zuko ignored you. Han stood up and glared at him. “What the fuck man!”

“Stay away from her.” Zuko warned but Han didn’t back down, he threw a punch at Zuko but he ducked. Han grabbed on to Zuko’s shoulders then tossed him inside the party, which caused everyone to stare.

“Stop it!” You yelled as you followed them inside. Zuko got up then speared Han unto the table. He was about to hit him once more but you stood in between him and Han.

“Y/N move.” Zuko said through gritted teeth, but you stood your ground. “No.”

“H-hey, what’s going on?” Aang asked nervously as the rest of the gang stood behind him in shock. The other party goers didn’t know what to do as well. You looked around and noticed everyone staring at you. Zuko was still glaring at Han as he struggled to get up. “What’s wrong with you?” you stormed out the front door with every intention to head back. “Y/N, wait!” Zuko ran after you.

“What’s going on?” Toph asked the rest of the gang. “Beats me...”Aang took a bite from the apple he was eating. “No idea but, let’s go see!” Sokka began to follow you guys but Suki pulled him back. “HEY!”

You were trying to get home as fast as you could. This whole night was a disaster and you just wanted to be left alone. “Y/N!” a familiar voice called but you continued walking. “Hey!”

“Y/N will you please—“

“WHAT!” you shot around at him and he froze in his steps. “I just need to talk—“

“NO! what is the matter with you?! Starting a fight?! Really?!”

“W-well if you weren’t trying to make me jealous nothing wouldn’t have happened!” Zuko shouted as he walked closer to you. “Make you jealous? I wasn’t trying to make you jealous!”

“Then what were you doing with that bonehead?!”

“I was having a conversation. Not everything is about you, Prince Zuko.” You rolled your eyes then continued on your way. “But you were about to kiss him. I saw YOU!” he shouted and ran to catch up with your pace.

“Stop following me, Zuko.”

“No.”

You bended fire at his feet and he jumped. “Hey!” you continued walking but he was right behind you. “Zuko, leave me ALONE!”

“No.” you stopped and turned to him then he stopped as well.

“You had no right to hit him!”

“I don’t care.” You continued on your way home but he continued to follow you. “You can’t just hit people for no reason!”

“I had a reason.”

“And what was that?!” you rolled your eyes but refused to face him.

“You were about to kiss him.”

“So what if I was?!” you raised your hands in defeat, if you kissed him or not it shouldn’t even matter. He stayed silent but continued to watch you with those piercing eyes of his. “Whether I kissed him or not, it has nothing to do with you, Zuko.”

You tried to leave again but heard a loud noise. “AGH!” Zuko shot fire at a nearby tree, which caused you to stop.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU ZUKO!” You were in his face and he was breathing heavily with his eyes locked on yours. He paused then grabbed your face then crashed his lips onto yours. You gave in a little but then quickly pulled away.

“No, you can’t do that to me.” You backed away then ran back to house.

As soon as you arrived you ran to your shared room with Toph and Katara then slammed the door. You forgot to lock it but as you were about to, Zuko was standing at the doorway.

“Zuko, will you please leave me alone!”

“NO!”

“What do you want from me, Zuko?!” You yelled at him. You felt so many emotions in the last two days from anger, sadness, jealousy, defeat...and all because of him.

“You. I want you.” He said, and for the first time he wasn’t yelling and his voice was calm.

Before you could speak, Zuko continued.

“Look, I-I know it doesn’t seem like...I care...about anything really...but...” he paused and you stared at him. “I do care about some things..I-mean—“

“Zuko, you don’t have to—“

“No. You need to hear this.” His voice was suddenly serious and he was staring at you with so much intensity you couldn’t speak.

“I know we both started this thing as a distraction from what’s going on. Escaping from our pasts in the Fire Nation and what might come next with this war. But...along the way...I started...to feel things towards you that I know I shouldn’t and I thought I could control it while we were together I mean...not together like that but...yeah.” he started blushing and wasn’t looking at you anymore. He was nervous and knew it. You suddenly felt your heart warm up to him but you composed yourself once more.

“I thought I could control it, but the more time we spent together, it just got harder. Then that stupid date happened...I never should have asked her out. I know it’s not an excuse but...I just got scared. I mean, hearing you talk about how it’s never gonna work out, how this is just temporary really freaked me out, so I went out with her to try to prove myself that my feelings for you were nothing but...the whole time, I just thought about you...and I instantly regretted it. So I’m sorry for asking her out...I’m sorry—“

“You didn’t do anything wrong with that we aren’t—“

“I’m sorry for acting like I could just take you whenever I wanted. I’m sorry for disrespecting you.” He finished and you knew he meant it with the way he looked at you.”

“Zuko...it’s alright.” He sighed in relief and started to smile. “I think these things had to happen to show us that our time was up. We were going too far with each other and we were just going to get hurt, I mean look at us now, look what happened tonight. We’re not good for each other, and the team might suffer for it later on.” His face dropped when you finished. You could tell he expected another answer from you.

“How can you say that?”

“Zuko, all we do is fight! We argue about everything, we hurt each other and we’re hurting the team with our bickering and disagreements! What kept us going was the physical stuff...and if we don’t have that—“

“Look me in the eyes and tell me it was all physical for you.” He was staring deep into your eyes and you paused. Why couldn’t you just say it? A few words and this could all be over. No more fights, no more drama, nothing. You and Zuko would be nothing.

“Z-Zuko I—“

“You can’t say it because you don’t mean it.” he stated and you stepped back from him. “It’s more complicated than that, you know it!” You turned away from him. “How is it complicated? Yes we do fight, so what? That’s not an enough reason for me.”

“It is for me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It doesn’t matter!” You tried to leave the room.

“NO! Tell me what’s so complicated!” Zuko was holding your arm so you couldn’t leave. You bit your lip trying to stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. “We don’t know what’s going to happen after this war. If I...if you...if something happens, and you know there’s a possibility that one of us...or both of us...” you stopped, you’ve lost your family already, you had no idea where they were, they could be dead, you couldn’t lose someone close to you again. Zuko loosened his grip on your arm, understanding what you were saying. “I’ve lost my family—“

“You don’t know what.”

“I do...and if I lose another person close to me again...”

“I won’t let that happen.” He whispered and you turned to face him. “Zuko, it’s just...I already felt losing you once over this whole thing...I’m not going to do that again and not just because of what the future holds but...how are we sure of any decisions we’re making now? I mean look at us!” Zuko stepped back and just watched you.

“You left your life in the Fire Nation twice and made two different decisions after each time. I didn’t want to leave when my father was banished, then ended up following him to only leave a week later because I felt like I could do more than hide. We’re erratic and unsure of everything, we can hardly make decisions on our own, what more commit? And the fact that there wasn’t even an “us” to begin with?” you sighed but Zuko seemed unbothered by your statement.

“Y/N...I may be unsure about a lot of things. I always think about how...if I’m making the right decisions not only for me but for the Fire Nation. I’m unsure about if this is the path Uncle Iroh wanted for me, if I’m teaching Aang the right skills. I’m unsure about the future because if my father wins, would this all be for nothing. I’m unsure about a lot of things Y/N, but the one thing I’m sure about in this whole fucked up situation is that I love you.” Your eyes widened in shock and his did too. You stared at each other for a couple of seconds, both of you unable to move.

“You don’t need to say it back, I’ve told you everything. I just had to let you know.” He whispered and with that he was gone.

You stood there motionless in the room. Zuko just said he loved you. The same Zuko that drove you crazy, that made snarky comments about your bending, that tested you till you’ve reached your limits. But it was the same Zuko that would hold you at night when you had nightmares, who reassured you whenever you worried about your family’s safety, Who would make sure you were safe whenever you were on a mission, who would secretly hold your hand when you were flying on on Appa because only he knew that heights made you nervous, the same Zuko who just told you he loved you, and you let him walk away.

You broke out of your trance then rushed to his room. You barged in but he was nowhere to be found. Suddenly, you saw a figure on the terrace looking out at the ocean. You walked outside and saw Zuko facing out with his arms spread across the balcony. His muscles looked tense and his head hung low. Walking towards him, you could feel your heart beat outside of your chest. You’ve been around Zuko a hundred times but this felt different.

You slowly wrapped your arms around his waist has you felt his body jump at your touch then relax. Leaning your chin on his shoulder and pressing your face against his, “I love you, Zuko.” You whispered and you could feel the smile on his face. Zuko turned around to face you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He looked down at you and you knew he was going to kiss you.

“Wait, I’m not Han, just making sure—“

“Zuko!” you slapped his arm then he laughed. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” You rolled your eyes and it felt like old times again.

“I love you, and I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.” Zuko whispered and then he finally kissed you.

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cripplingaddictions · 4 years ago

Text

Oikawa x Reader: Support

Summary: When Oikawa’s knee plays up during the final set, it costs his team the game. He’s distraught, but you come down from the stands to put him at ease. You try your best to comfort him, being both his physical and emotional support.

Rating: SFW

Genre: Fluff, angst, comfortttt (my fav)

Word Count: 2k

A/N: This is the second thing I’ve written for Oikawa to do with injuries... He’s had free rent in my brain for the last couple of days. Warning: this is unedited, sorry

Echoing cheers filled your ears, the large gatherings of supporters filling the stadium. Everyone’s hearts were in their ears, thumping like the drums many teams’ supporters had brought.

The game had been tight, Seijoh having been pushed into a tight spot. It was the final set, having lost the first and catching up in the second. Both sets had slipped into a Duce, this set one point away.

You were there to support Seijoh, or more specifically, your boyfriend. He’d given you his spare jersey to wear to cheer him on, the large number 1 attracting attention from many of his fangirls. It was situations like these you wished Oikawa wasn’t as flashy, not having to plaster that you were his right across your chest. However, you quickly forgot that you were wearing it, and so did his fans, completely sucked into the game.

Even though you sat so far away, you could see how exhausted both teams seemed. Both of them were so determined to win that you were almost concerned that they would push themselves over the edge.

More specifically, you were worried about Oikawa.

Recently, he had been expressing concern for his knee. You’d try telling him to take it easy once in a while if it was causing him that much trouble, but you knew he wouldn’t listen.

Now, watching him run backwards and forwards across the court begged for you to stare at his knee, as if the eye contact would miraculously heal it. The white knee brace stood out among the black pads, only an inescapable reminder that wouldn’t let you forget. But, you feared Oikawa had; too caught up in the moment.

Biting your bottom lip, you watched and waited as he set the ball to Iwaizumi for their quick. The blockers were inaccurate, resulting in the ball blasting through to the other side. A sloppy receive caused the ball to shoot off to the side, Seijoh receiving the point. It placed them in Duce.

You began to grow impatient, wondering how long it would go on for. The slight wobble in Oikawa’s run made you think that it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if the next two points ended the game, Seijoh’s or not Seijoh’s.

Mattsun served, hoping to keep the momentum going. His serve was received, the opposing libero placing the ball in the perfect place for the setter. After the ball spun into the air, their ace spiked it. Oikawa and Iwaizumi leaped up to block, the ball passing through. Makki received it, putting it in place for Oikawa.

Your heart clenched as he moved to set. His jaggered movements twisted his knee and you could see the wince on Oikawa’s face as the shock of the knee pain kicking in.

He staggered, falling to the ground. Iwaizumi turned to him when he heard a sharp inhale from his setter. The ball bounced on their side of the court, and the whistle blew.

Springing to your feet, you ran to the rail and leaned over it. Oikawa sat on the ground, Iwaizumi kneeling next to him. You watched as Iwaizumi wrapped one of Oikawa’s arms around his neck and led him off the court. Your boyfriend shot a tiny glance in your direction, before turning to watch where his feet were going. The glisten of regret in his eyes made your lip quiver.

The hobble in his walk over to the bench caused you to take off down the stairs closest to the Seijoh cheer squad. Breathing heavily, you sprinted around the gymnasium, hoping that you’d be allowed onto the court. Instead, you didn’t care. You needed to get to Oikawa.

When you reached the place where he stood, shaking his head at his coach. Iwaizumi argued too, his voice loud enough to hear. They wanted him to go to the medical wing, but Oikawa was refusing.

You sighed, walking hurriedly to stand next to Oikawa. He saw you coming, forcing on a fake smile.

“Ah, Y/N-chan!”

Before he could continue, you frowned at him and he closed his mouth. You looked his coach dead in the eyes.

“He can’t go to the medical wing; he can barely walk,” you said sternly, taking Oikawa’s hand in your own, “He’ll sit here with ice.”

You immediately regretted your tone, especially with the way coach judged you. His eyebrows were raised halfway up his forehead, obviously surprised with your assertiveness.

“Y/N-chan’s right, coach,” Oikawa laughed awkwardly, “They take good care of me.”

His coach laughed, “Good to see that he has you and Iwaizumi to keep him in check. Sit him down.”

Iwaizumi scoffed, slipping out from under Oikawa’s arm to let you take him place. The entire time it took you to take him over to the bench, he was smiling and chatting your ear off.

“I think we were playing well, Y/N-chan, don’t ya think? Man, it’s been a tough game. Shame this got in the way.”

You let him spew words, well aware that this was the way that he was covering up his hurt. Both physical and mental pain lingered over him, the tiny tears welling in his eyes the give away to you.

Having him around your shoulder allowed for you to easily manoeuvre him over to the bench. The limp in his step slowed you down slightly. Once you reached the bench, you carefully moved around to let him sit down. Kneeling before him, you let him raise his leg up so that his foot rested on your knee to elevate it slightly. You knew that the manager hurried to collected a bag of ice to place on his knee, so you stayed put.

Oikawa was far enough away from the team to suddenly let his guard down. The smile from his face dropped, as he took the damp towel his coach handed him. He placed it over his head, staring down at his lap. Avoiding your eyes, he clenched his fists and let his tears fall.

“Hey, Toru,” reached up to grab his hand, “Look at me, please.”

You wished you could get closer to him, but his foot resting on your knee prohibited you from moving.

He ignored you, and you sighed. Instead of pressuring him, you detached your hand from his hold. His fingers reached out with the absence of your warmth, but you continued with what you wanted to do.

Delicately, you pulled down his knee brace, shifting it down to his ankle. Air hitting his knee, Oikawa flinched slightly. You felt a little guilty, so you brought your hand back up to grab his. The soft skimming of your thumb over his knuckles soothed him, his small sniffles ceasing slightly.

Right as you were about to talk to him once again, his manager approached you. In his hands were a bag of ice and a fluffy towel. You thanked him and took the objects from him with your free hand.

After wrapping the ice in the towel and balancing it on Oikawa’s knee, you began to speak to him again.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you whispered, almost in an attempt of humour.

The use of his favourite nickname - that usually went to his head - received a little bit of attention. The towel over his head shifted as he looked up at you. His eyes were puffy and red, tear tracks staining his cheeks.

Your heart shattered, so you gestured for him to lean down to you. He did as he was told, the towel shielding his face. You reached out to wipe the tears from his cheeks with your knuckle, cooing at him softly.

“Look at you... you’re so handsome,” you tried to lift his mood in the best way you knew how, “Your tears and this towel are stopping me from seeing your face. I know you’re embarrassed, baby, I know.”

Oikawa shook his head, “I cost us the game because I didn’t listen to you telling me to take it easy. It hurts, Y/N-chan...”

“No, don’t “Y/N-chan” me, Toru,” you knew that being stern is the only way to get through to him, but to take attention away from your tone you held his face in your hands, “I know fully well that whatever I say to you when you step onto the court flies out the window. I only try because I care about you and I know that volleyball means the world to you. Don’t go blaming the game’s outcome on yourself either. Look, they’re still playing.”

You tilted his head so that he could see Yahaba set the ball and Kyotani spike it through the blockers. They scored the point, celebrating how they’re catching up.

Kunimi was the first to notice Oikawa watching, and he narrowed his eyes at him. Soon, Watari looked over, smiling and waving to his captain. Mattsun noticed too, both of them smirking knowingly. Yahaba scoffed, and Iwaizumi flipped Oikawa off.

To this, you narrowed your eyes, and Iwa rose his arms defensively. Nonetheless, your point was made, turning back to Oikawa. His eyes were wide, surprised.

“See, they’re not completely useless without you,” you stroked his cheek, “And they really do love you, no matter what they just did. It sucks, it really does suck that you have to play with an injury. I thought you say that you trust them.”

“I do...” Oikawa included guiltily.

“Good...” you sigh, recollecting your thoughts, “Toru, you’ve proven that you can trust them, but please trust me. I want you to sit out the next game if they win, okay? Your safety is so important to me and no doubtably the rest of the team agrees.”

Oikawa leaned into your touch, nodding and smiling, “Thank you, baby...”

“You are so welcome,” you lifted up the ice to look at his knee, “I hope the only thing you are crying at now is how much your knee hurts, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he laughed slightly, the shakiness of his leg concerning you.

However, the light laughter that left his lips made you smile. The towel slipped off his head, its shadow disappearing off his face. You caught it, placing it on the ground next to you.

“There you are, pretty boy,” you smiled at him, the twinkle returning to his eyes.

Once again, the shaking of his leg concerned you, “I’ll be careful, but I want to elevate your leg more.”

He simply nodded, trusting you as you took hold of his foot. One hand holding the ice and towel, you lifted his leg and spun him so that it rested along the bench. You placed the ice back on his knee, folding the towel that had been on his head tightly. Resting his foot on the towel, you gave him a peck on the forehead. Sitting behind him on the bench you allowed him to rest on you.

Oikawa placed his head on your shoulder, pouting up at you, “Hey, you missed my lips, Y/N-chan~”

Huffing you craned your neck to aim your lips for his own, but they couldn't reach. Instead you landed them on the tip of his nose.

“You missed again...” he whined, and you rolled your eyes.

“It’s not my fault I can’t reach,” you grumbled, his head slipping off your shoulder.

This forced you to catch his sweaty head, so you took the opportunity to kiss him properly. However, your lips only brushed his top lip, leaving him unsatisfied.

“Hey, that wasn’t a proper kiss, princess,” he retorted.

“Well, that’s what you get for scaring me,” you smiled, “Now, sit up, you big baby.”

“Aww, did I scare you~” Oikawa teased, sitting up and resting against your side again.

“Shut up.”

The two of you spent the rest of the game watching closely, commenting on each play. Your arm rested over his shoulder the majority of the time, letting him play with your fingers. Sadly, Aoba Johsai lost the game, but you made sure to remind Oikawa that it wasn’t his fault and he believed you.

When you returned home, he thanked you. The way you supported him really put him at ease. He wasn't always comfortable to admit to weakness and needing help, so it meant the world to the both of you when he said it.

#haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa imagine #oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa fluff #oikawa angst #oikawa comfort

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blossom-hwa · 4 years ago

Text

Bloom, Bloom, Pow! |1| - CHANGMIN

Happy Valentine’s Day!!!! Please enjoy the first half of nearly 17k of pining for the boy I would be pining for if he was in my life <3

Special thanks to @wingkkun for helping me come up with several parts of this story!! I don’t know how you deal with me, Kai, but I really appreciate it <3

(Suggested playlist: Bloom Bloom, DDD, and Just U by The Boyz :D)

Pairing: Changmin x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, angst if you squint, university!au

Triggers: cursing, alcohol

Word Count: 9.4k

Dancing with you, Changmin feels like flowers are blooming in his heart.

Part 1 | Part 2

TBZ Masterlist | Interwoven

~ you

It starts like this.

Ji Changmin is notorious for his dancing, not because he’s bad at it (he’s arguably one of the best students in the dance department), but for his habit of moonwalking through the university halls. Headphones stuck in his ears, phone in hand, he twists and twirls around campus, eyes closed in concentration or fixed on some faraway point in space, lost in the realm of his music.

And the strangest thing is, he never bumps into a single person.

Oh, he might brush against an arm or two. His fingertips might graze a shoulder with a butterfly’s touch, his feet just barely skimming over another’s shoes. But crashing into someone? Knocking into a wall? Never.

It’s fun to see, really, when you cross paths with him or when he shows up on the school Snapchat story. Even though you only know Changmin by name (Kevin talks to him, but you haven’t had the pleasure), there’s something endlessly graceful and fascinating about the way he moves, slipping through the crowded halls with the cheerful air of someone who doesn’t care about what other people around them think.

It starts with an impulse, just something to lighten up your mood. You’re walking to one of your least favorite classes (look, writing might be fun, but certainly not the way your professor teaches it) when Changmin’s bright orange mop of hair appears ahead. A slight smile creeps up your face as he comes closer, an unstoppable force parting the crowded sea of students.

An idea pops into your mind.

Trip him up.

Briefly, you question yourself. Why?

Like that meme, your brain supplies a concise answer. You gotta.

You’re grinning, moving before your mind can even process what your body has decided to do. Stepping awkwardly around a couple of other students, you place yourself right in Changmin’s path.

He twists.

You turn.

He lurches.

You step.

He flashes you a confused look, his usual faraway gaze replaced with something bemused and even slightly annoyed. For a second, you feel a flash of uncertainty – what if he doesn’t see this as the joke you mean it to be? After all, you don’t even know each other. How is he going to take this?

But he must see the teasing smile on your face and the glint in your gaze because his eyes sparkle, lips stretching wide into the brightest grin you’ve ever seen him wear. His moves take on an exaggerated cadence, arms stretching widely, legs smoothly twisting around your much less graceful feet as he twirls, just avoiding your flailing hands jokingly trying to stop him.

Changmin wins, of course. Your mediocre attempts at obstruction are nothing against his skill. As he slips away, he flashes you a smirk of farewell, leaving you with only the memory of a bright smile, graceful limbs, and an awkward dance.

You expect it to be a one-time thing. It’s so stupid when you think about it later – what the hell possessed you to do that, anyway? You’re cringing just thinking about it – so there’s no way, you tell yourself, no way that Changmin would bother to acknowledge your presence again. When you walk down the same hall a few days later and see a bright orange head of hair artfully bobbing in your direction, you just smile a bit at the residual memories.

But Changmin catches your eye, his gaze brightening when it meets yours. As the curve of his lips widens, one graceful finger twitches slightly in a tiny gesture – get over here. His eyes glint – try me.

A grin spreads across your face as you step closer. Why not?

And so, again, you dance.

. . . . .

~ changmin

Changmin doesn’t really know what makes you so special. He doesn’t know why he indulges your twists and turns, weaving in and out of your awkwardly stepping feet on the way to class. He doesn’t know why he didn’t just give you a weird look the first day you stepped into his path, avoided you as best he could and walked away.

But that would’ve erased the smile on your face, he reasons, thinking back to the memories. It would’ve extinguished the sparkle in your eye, muted the brightness of your expression into something far less brilliant. And despite the fact that Changmin barely knows who you are, has only a vague recollection of your name from when someone once called to you down the hall, in that moment, he subconsciously knew that there was nothing he would willingly do to dim your sparkle. Not a sparkle of beauty, necessarily, or of mere physical loveliness. No, in your smile, there’s something deeper, something brilliantly incandescent that strikes right into Changmin’s heart.

Other people think it’s stupid. Younghoon, for example, wonders if he’s gone absolutely nuts the first time he witnesses the dance (well, Changmin calls it a dance – Younghoon says it looks more like a cult ritual). “What the fuck was that?” he asks after you walk off, raising an extremely confused eyebrow.

Changmin just shrugs, watching your figure disappear down the hall before slipping back into his usual moonwalk. “I don’t know,” he replies honestly. “We just do it.”

“You’re so weird,” Younghoon mutters, shaking his head slightly. “Do you even know their name?”

Again, he shrugs. “Y/N, I think?”

Younghoon chokes. “You think?”

If Changmin thinks about it, it is kind of stupid. You stepped into his path in a crowded hallway and proceeded to try and trip him up, all while wearing a huge grin on your face (that Changmin thinks is beautiful, but he won’t dig into that just yet). Changmin, instead of trying to get away, decided to indulge your fun. You’ve never exchanged a single spoken word – he isn’t even sure you know his name, though he can’t really say anything because he isn’t sure he knows yours – and you’ve rarely interacted, even nonverbally, beyond a few smiles and the little confrontation that happens every Monday and Wednesday at approximately two-ten in the afternoon when the two of you walk down the same hall.

But it doesn’t feel stupid, not in the moment. It feels right, somehow, grinning as widely as his lips will allow while you try to step all over his toes. You never manage to trip him, not in those few seconds of dance, but Changmin appreciates the effort and laughs along with you, exaggerating his movements and pretending to almost fall, just to see the smile on your face grow wider.

So the stares don’t matter, not to Changmin. He can stomach the strange glances, the hidden smirks, the subtly raised phones trying to catch the scene for the school Snapchat story (anyway, if it bothers him enough, he can terrify Jaehyun into deleting it). He can shrug off Younghoon standing like a silent tree nearby, stuffing his face with bread and praying no one associates him with his squirrelly best friend, because seeing your brilliant smiles and hearing your stifled laughs are more than enough to get him through the rest of the day.

“You never smile that widely around me,” Younghoon remarks one day, “and I’m your best friend.”

Changmin just shrugs as he flashes you one last grin over the sea of students in the hall, turning back to face his friend. “Well,” he says, purposely trying to be infuriating, “there’s a reason for that.”

Younghoon whines, of course, pouting his lips in the way that wins him so many admirers around the school, but Changmin ignores it in favor of thinking about your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes sparkle and your limbs fly in your attempts to throw him off his balance.

Yes, he thinks, there’s a reason.

The reason is that your smile is more beautiful than anything he’s ever seen.

. . . . .

~ eric

Eric considers himself pretty well-versed when it comes to feelings. He’s fallen in love a lot, even with people he often doesn’t even know too well. Something just always pulls him in – a particular smile, a mischievous glint of the eye, the way they tap their pencil against their chin when deep in thought. He falls easily, quickly, and a little too hard, and as a result, he can recognize the look in his own eyes (and in others’, too) when he’s fallen head over heels for someone lovely.

He doesn’t have too many problems shooting his shot, either, which is nice. Sunwoo’s told Eric several times that he’s jealous of the way he can walk up to someone so easily and go, “Hey, I want to get to know you a little better – mind if I take you on a date?” To Eric, though, it’s just part of the process. He gets nervous, no doubt, but more often than not, if he’s courteous, he’ll at least meet a new friend, even if the feelings don’t end up being reciprocated.

When Eric slams into you on his board one day – what the fuck were you doing, anyway? Trying to trip up that wide-eyed kid with the dimples? Though to be fair, he shouldn’t be skateboarding in the halls – the first thing he notices is your pretty smile, the embarrassed grin you give him as he apologizes profusely, extending a hand to help you up. His heart thumps once.

True to himself, Eric’s ready to drop a flirty pickup line, make you laugh a little, and ask if he can get you a coffee or something to make up for the trouble. The words are forming on his lips, just about to burst from his throat when he feels a laser gaze glaring holes into his back.

Against his better judgement, Eric looks back slightly. The doe-eyed boy you were, what – interacting with? Dancing with? He needs to go over that scene in his head again – is staring back with so much concentration it looks like he wants to tear out Eric’s entire soul.

You drop Eric’s hand and he looks back, startled by the sudden lack of touch. “Don’t worry, really – I’m not hurt. Thanks for helping me up,” you say.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Your voice.

If Eric’s heart wasn’t already fluttering over your smile, it’s certainly fluttering now over your voice. God, it makes Eric want to just be your friend, at the very least. There’s a perfect mixture of warmth, gentility, and kindness in your tone, sprinkled with something so very sweet that soothes his ears.

Hell.

But by contrast, your smile is distant, like you’re thinking of something beyond the moment. Eric takes the current brief silence to look where your eyes flit off to, trying to see who you’re fixated on.

The doe-eyed boy is walking away, shifting gracefully through the group of students currently converging on the path. Your gaze follows his disappearing figure, something longing and endlessly lovely in your expression.

Ah, Eric realizes, heart sinking slightly. You’re already in love.

The memory of a gaze glaring holes into his soul briefly flashes in his mind, causing Eric’s slightly dampened smile to curl into a light smirk.

From the looks of it, the doe-eyed boy seems to be in love with you too.

Eric looks at you again. “I’m really sorry about that,” he says honestly. “I definitely shouldn’t have been skating in the hall, but I’m glad you aren’t hurt. I hope I haven’t made you late to class?”

You shake your head, smile now focused. You’ve returned to the present. “You’re good,” you reply, briefly checking your phone. “I’ve still got a few minutes.”

“Well, just the same, if you ever want payback in some form or another, just ask around for Eric Sohn.” Picking up his board, Eric flashes you a smile, wishing slightly that your longing gaze was fixed on him, not the dimpled boy who’s long since disappeared. “I can buy you a coffee or something to make up for it.”

“Might take you up on that one of these days,” you grin. “I’m Y/N. Wanna exchange numbers so I can leech that coffee off of you?”

Heart thumping wildly, fingers tapping quickly, Eric enters his number into your phone, saving himself as Eric Sohn 💙. He hopes you don’t mind the emoji.

“Blue heart?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you take the phone back. “Not a red one?”

Can’t exactly do that when it’s clear you’re in love, he thinks, though he doesn’t say that out loud. “Nah.” He shrugs. “Figured that’d be too much. Need to get to know you a bit before I do anything more, right?”

A sweet, soft smile spreads across your lips, and Eric has to fight hard not to melt at it. “I appreciate that, Eric,” you say, pocketing your phone. The way you say his name blooms in Eric’s ears. “See you later, maybe?”

Eric knows he probably shouldn’t make judgements so quickly, but it’s hard not to believe in your sweetness with your kind voice and gentle smile. You deserve love, he decides in that moment, with the doe-eyed, dimpled boy who clearly loves you back.

Mentally, he puts a stamp of approval on the mission formulating in his brain as he nods. “See you,” he says, grinning.

Even if he isn’t the one you’ll fall in love with, he can at least help a new friend find their happiness.

. . .

~ kevin

Kevin thinks there’s a special place in hell for lovebirds who clearly like each other but won’t even consider the notion of actually talking and maybe going on a god damn date.

And there’s an extra-special little island in that ocean of fire for such lovebirds who have never spoken a single word to each other in their lives and have only communicated through stupid smiles and mushy eyes and worst of all, motherfucking mating dances.

Yes, that’s what he calls your tiptoe-tap dance-whatever-the-fuck-they-are dances with Changmin. You hit him the first time he said it out loud, but what else can he call it? There’s no other term that fits the situation nearly as well. It’s weird and strange like most mating dances are, and most importantly, the two of you are head over heels in love.

“We’re not in love!” you snap when Kevin brings it up. “How can we be in love if we haven’t even spoken once?”

Kevin nearly spits out his drink.

“You’re telling me,” he enunciates slowly once he’s recovered, “that you have never spoken to this guy, the same guy you were worrying about to me yesterday because you didn’t see him in the hall on schedule, not even once?”

When you nod yes, scowling in embarrassment, Kevin legitimately faceplants into the table. He stays there for several whole minutes, trying to digest the situation and the sheer idiocy of two of his closest friends.

Doesn’t matter. You’re clearly in love, or at least have a very hopeless, incurable crush on Ji Changmin. And if Changmin’s face is anything to go by, he’s head over heels for you too – Kevin’s never seen his friend with that big of a smile on his face or that sparkly of a look in his eyes.

He wants to vomit just thinking of it.

Okay, fine, so maybe some of this abhorrent disgust is due to the fact that Kevin is single and not exactly ready to mingle after several disastrous blind dates. Maybe some of his annoyance at your mating dances is unfounded. But in his defense, the two of you are stupid as fuck.

He’s in the middle of complaining about this mating dance phenomenon to his freshman friend, Eric Sohn, when Eric puts out a hand. “Wait, stop,” he says, halting Kevin mid-complaint. “Are you talking about Y/N and that… that guy, with, like, really round eyes and a dimple?”

Kevin’s eyes narrow. “How do you know them?”

“Well, uh, I accidentally crashed into Y/N on my board while they were doing…” Eric helplessly waves his arms around.

“The mating dance,” Kevin supplies.

“That’s a horrible name, Kevin.”

“It’s the closest thing that explains it.”

“Well, whatever.” Eric cringes. “I gave Y/N my number in case they wanted me to like, buy a coffee or something in exchange for nearly committing a murder. So that’s how I know them. Not sure of the other guy’s name, though.”

Kevin sighs. “Ji Changmin.”

“THAT’S CHANGMIN?”

“Shut up!” Kevin snaps. “Just let the whole dorm hear your screaming, won’t you?”

“Sorry,” Eric snips back, though more quietly this time. “But you all talk about how he’s scary as shit and always dancing? He wasn’t dancing when he walked off, and he looks like… I don’t know, a child? I thought he was a freshman.”

“Wait.” Kevin puts his hands on Eric’s shoulders. “You just said Changmin wasn’t dancing when he walked off?”

Eric slowly shakes his head. “I don’t think so?”

“Oh, my dude.” Kevin begins shaking Eric back and forth. Eric’s head wobbles on his neck for several seconds before he comes to his senses and knocks Kevin’s hands off of his shoulders, scowling. “Eric Sohn, you are fucked.”

“What?” Eric’s eyes immediately turn panicked. “Why?”

“Ji Changmin dances all the fucking time,” Kevin says, putting his head in his hands. How has Eric already fucked up this badly in his first year? Kevin’s a mess, but he can say he’s solidly a B-level mess, meaning he more or less has his social shit together, even if not his academia. “If he wasn’t dancing when he walked away, that means he was pissed off.”

A beat of silence. Then – “Would it help if I had a semi-sort-of plan to get him and Y/N together?”

Kevin’s head snaps up. So maybe Eric isn’t entirely clueless. “So you know they’re literally in love with each other?”

Eric rolls his eyes. “It’s so obvious,” he whines. “Why haven’t you even thought to play Cupid?”

“Because Y/N is stupid and won’t admit that they have feelings, and I haven’t talked to Changmin that much this semester because we have different classes,” Kevin groans. “They’re both so stupid.”

“Eh.” Eric gets a faraway look in his eyes. “It’s hard for a lot of people to realize they’re in love.”

Silence falls as Kevin tries to pin down the familiarly weird feeling his friend is exuding. Eric’s gaze stays faraway, fixed on some point in the metaphorical distance (he’s staring at a wall covered in tacky posters and random sketches – there’s no way he’s enamored with Kevin’s half-baked drawings of trees and scissors and shit).

He looks sad.

“Oh, Eric.” Kevin’s frustration falls away as he pulls the freshman into a hug. “You like Y/N, don’t you?”

Eric doesn’t even deny it, he’s so far past that. “It’s stupid, Kevin. I’ll get over it, I always do. It’s just a crush.”

Not for the first time in his life, Kevin wishes he had his friend’s maturity, even though he wouldn’t enjoy the root cause. Falling in love as easily as Eric does would be too hard for Kevin to deal with. “Eric Sohn, you are one of the most selfless people in the world,” he declares. “You don’t have to do this, you know? If it hurts, you don’t.”

“No, Y/N deserves love.” Eric puts his chin on Kevin’s shoulder. Kevin takes the opportunity to pat his head. “Changmin does, too, and I think they’ll find it together. God knows he was staring holes into my back while we were talking.”

Kevin thinks he’s going to melt. “You’re dumb as fuck,” he says fondly, laughing at Eric’s squawk of indignation, “but you’re sweet. Too sweet for your own good.”

“… Is that a compliment?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be.” Kevin pulls back from his friend. “Ready to play Cupid?”

Eric nods, sadness partially replaced with mischievous fire. Kevin will take that much for now. “Yeah!”

. . . . .

~ changmin

Changmin doesn’t expect to be punched in the gut when he’s going with Younghoon to get a stupid cup of coffee.

Okay, no one actually punches him. But it certainly feels that way when he sees you sitting with the skater boy kid who knocked into you the other day, talking at a table by the window.

Younghoon doesn’t notice at first, just goes up to the counter to order at the (overpriced) campus Starbucks. Changmin loiters nearby, waiting for Younghoon to get his drink and come over, all the while trying to not obviously stare at you and the other kid having an animated conversation just a few feet away.

“What’s with the pout?” Younghoon asks, trying unsuccessfully to scare Changmin with his sudden presence. His own lips turning down with his failed attempt, he follows Changmin’s gaze to the two students sitting by the windows.

“I’m not pouting,” Changmin says, pout deepening.

Younghoon nearly spills his coffee, he snorts so hard. “Sure,” he says. “I’ll just pretend you’re not moping over someone you’re head over heels for whose name you don’t even know.”

If Younghoon actually spills his coffee when Changmin elbows him in the ribs, no one can tell. The look he gives the taller boy is enough to silence him for the next half an hour, at least.

He tries to focus, he really does. Though the drinks are overpriced, Changmin won’t deny that the coffee-scented air of the Starbucks is pleasant. It’s mid-afternoon, a time when most students are in class, so it isn’t too loud, either. But despite all of this, Changmin can’t focus on psychology. His eyes keep drifting over to the table by the window, where your conversation still hasn’t ended.

“Ji Changmin.” Younghoon waves a hand in front of his face after his concentration wanes for the umpteenth time. “You came here to study.”

This time, Changmin doesn’t deny the pout that settles on his lips. “I know,” he says, genuinely upset now. He wants to focus and get this studying done, he really does, but he just can’t put his mind to it.

Younghoon sighs. “Why don’t you just try talking?” he asks, eyes flickering over to where you’re still chatting animatedly with the skater boy. God, it’s been at least half an hour – haven’t you finished your drink? Why aren’t you gone yet? Why are you still here, invisibly punching Changmin in the chest every time you smile at the skater kid?

The words slip out of Changmin’s mouth before he can stop them. “What if they’re dating?”

There’s a moment of silence. Then Changmin realizes just what he’s indirectly admitted to his best friend.

Fuck.

“Well, that’s the first step.” Younghoon reaches over and pats Changmin on his slumped head. “Admitting your feelings. Proud of you, Changmin.”

Scowling, he slaps the hand off his hair, ignoring Younghoon’s yelp of indignation. “Not funny,” he whines, putting his head back down. “What if they are?” God, he should’ve helped you up before that skater boy did, run over and given you a hand first. Now skater boy’s on a date with you and Changmin feels…

Oh, God.

He’s jealous.

Shame and embarrassment flood his face at the realization. This is gross, his mind wails. Why does he feel jealous over you, someone he’s never even spoken to? The only semblance of interest you’ve given him is your initiation of the sidewalk dance. And maybe your smile.

Changmin’s pout deepens impossibly further. Actually, you probably give your lovely smile to every person you meet. He isn’t special. In fact, he’s betting that the skater kid fell for your smile too, the smile that makes it feel like stars are raining around his feet.

“Hey, earth to Changmin?” Younghoon waves a hand in front of his face. “You good?”

“No,” he replies, burying his head in his textbook again. “Leave me alone to mope.”

Younghoon just snorts, pats his head, then goes quiet, presumably back to studying. Meanwhile, Changmin doesn’t even bother to make a pretense of looking at his book anymore. He just stares into darkness.

Feelings, he decides, fucking suck.

. . .

~ you

Eric, you come to find, is a really fun guy. He might be a little awkward, but he’s clearly got a warm heart, and with every second you spend with him, you find yourself feeling more and more comfortable in his presence. With him, an entire hour and a half pass in a flash before you check your phone and realize you have class in less than ten minutes.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize, hastily putting your things together. “Time passed so quickly. I didn’t keep you from doing anything important, did I?”

He just waves a hand. “Don’t worry!” The bright smile that’s been gracing his face this entire time grows even wider. “I don’t have a lot on my plate at the moment. It was fun talking to you.”

“Me, too.” You push your chair in. “Let’s do this again sometime? I’ll buy my own coffee, though.”

Eric’s grin makes him look like a puppy. You have the irrational urge to pat his head and coo. “Of course! See you later, Y/N.”

“See you.” Waving once, you exit the café, ready to head off to class.

Just outside the building, though, something makes you linger. You feel weird, like someone’s staring. Quickly, you look back through the window of the Starbucks. Eric’s still there, talking to a tall boy in one corner, but he isn’t looking at you.

Your gaze shifts, and invisible heat floods your cheeks as Ji Changmin stares back from behind the glass, seated at a table at the far end of the café.

He’s wearing glasses today, you notice blankly. They’re round, frame his eyes perfectly, and make him look god damn adorable.

Your heart flutters.

For a moment, you just stand there, rooted in place. What do I do here? you think desperately. What are you supposed to do when you’ve never actually spoken to him, only exchanged greetings in the form of weird dance steps (if they can even be called that) and, well, smiles?

Oh. Smiles.

Those work, you guess.

Slowly, you curl the corners of your lips into what you hope is a grin. It grows wider as Changmin smiles back, eyes crinkling and teeth showing as he waves to you from inside the café.

Your mood, already lightened by your conversation with Eric, skyrockets impossibly as you wave back, mouth splitting into a grin that stretches from ear to ear.

God, since when did just seeing Ji Changmin make you feel this happy?

In a moment of heightened stupidity, you point up to your eyes, drawing circles with your fingers in a motion that you hope indicates glasses. Changmin points to the frames on his face, and you nod, hands forming two thumbs ups, which your unthinking brain hopes will convey the fact that you really like how he looks with them on.

It feels like it should be impossible for Changmin’s smile to get any wider, but it does. Through the window, you watch him clap a hand to his mouth shyly, shoulders shaking slightly as he presumably laughs. It makes you laugh, too, and you wave one more time before walking away.

Then what you did actually hits you, and like that first time you stepped in Changmin’s path, you put your face in your hands and cringe as hard as your body will allow.

You really did that, you scold yourself. You really made circles with your fingers and gave him fucking thumbs ups because you liked his glasses.

You’re a fucking moron.

. . .

~ eric

When Eric walks up to Changmin’s table to talk to his friend, he immediately reevaluates his entire opinion of the doe-eyed boy.

His face is buried in the textbook when Eric starts approaching (which, first of all, mood). However, when he gets closer, Changmin lifts his head out of the pages and fixes him with the deadliest, pointiest glare that Eric has ever faced in his life.

Eric now sees why Kevin calls Changmin scary as fuck. The stare he gave when Eric crashed into you was nothing compared to this.

His eyes feel like daggers slowly slicing into Eric’s skin.

“Um.” Eric stops a couple feet away from the table Changmin’s sharing with the friend he needs to talk to. The friend looks up curiously, and Eric seizes the chance. “Can I, uh, talk to you? For a second?” he asks, desperately hoping they can get away from Changmin’s glare as soon as possible. “Please?”

The friend blinks once, then nods. “Be back in a minute, Changmin,” he says, about to stand up.

“Why can’t you talk to him here?”

Oh, God. If Eric wasn’t ready for the whiplash that came with seeing Changmin’s soft features versus his sharp glare, he really wasn’t ready for the soft tones of his voice contrasting with the venom blended in. Everything about Changmin, at first glance, screams innocence and sweetness.

What the fuck goes on behind that exterior?

“Um,” Eric stalls, desperately trying to think of an excuse. “I –”

“Don’t be rude, Changmin,” the friend cuts through smoothly, standing up. Eric immediately feels dwarfed by this guy’s long legs, but he doesn’t care as much as he normally might because he’s so glad he’s getting rescued. “Let’s go.”

The Starbucks isn’t large, but Eric follows the friend to a far corner, away from the table. Once they’re there, he clears his throat. “Um –”

“Are you dating them?” the tall guy interrupts. “The one you were here with before?”

Once the question settles in, Eric starts shaking his head violently. “No, no, I’m not. No. I just – well, I slammed into Y/N on my board, so I offered to buy coffee for us sometime to make up for it?” He tries to smile. “Not dating.”

“Oh, thank God.” The friend rubs his forehead. “Changmin was going to have an aneurysm.”

Well, that confirms that his near-death at the eyes of Ji Changmin wasn’t in vain. Relief and sadness run through Eric’s brain at the confirmation that yes, Changmin is head over heels for you. “Yeah, uh, I was actually going to ask about that.” He swallows. “Are you and Changmin close friends?”

A curious look. “Yeah, you could say that. Why?”

“Well, I don’t know if you know Kevin Moon, but he’s sick of watching Y/N and Changmin pine over each other without bothering to make a move,” Eric rushes out. He can still feel Changmin’s gaze boring holes into his skin. “But Kevin doesn’t have classes with Changmin this semester and he definitely hates my guts, so…” He sighs. God, this is harder than he thought it’d be. “Basically, are you tired of watching them pine, and do you have the time and energy to play Cupid with us?”

For a moment, Changmin’s friend just stands there, staring him right in the eyes Eric. Then a smirk spreads over his face. “Of course I do,” he says, now grinning like a god damn maniac. “Count me in.”

A breath of relief rushes out of Eric’s lips. “Thank God,” he mumbles. “Give me your number. We start plotting this weekend.”

His phone comes back to him with a new contact named Kim Younghoon in it. “Why are you doing this, anyway?” Changmin’s friend – Younghoon – asks as Eric puts the phone away. “What’s in it for you? Didn’t you only meet Y/N when you crashed?”

“Their pining is disgustingly obvious,” Eric says matter of factly. “I’ve been Kevin’s friend for years, and now I’m also Y/N’s. Why not alleviate both of their pain by getting them together?”

Younghoon looks at Eric, almost like he’s appraising him. Eric feels kind of like a bug under a microscope and he’s absolutely sure this tall guy is going to take back his agreement and call him weird before he suddenly smiles widely. “You’re cool,” Younghoon declares as though he’s just made a scientific discovery to rival Einstein’s photoelectric effect. “Looking forward to... whatever this is.”

With that, Eric ducks out of the café as fast as possible, leaving the smell of coffee and (thankfully) Changmin’s burning stares behind. Once outside, he pulls out his phone again and creates a group chat.

To: schemerz

Eric: younghoon and kevin say hi to each other

Kevin: hi younghoon

Younghoon: hi kevin

Step one of operation cupid is complete. Eric grins.

Eric: pack your bags boyz we begin scheming tomorrow

Younghoon: why do we need to pack bags

Younghoon: are we going somewhere

Okay, well, maybe this will take some time, Eric thinks, looking at Younghoon’s texts. But it can’t be that bad. You and Changmin are so obviously crushing on each other. It won’t take too much work to make get you two together, will it?

. . . . .

~ younghoon

Younghoon genuinely never knew that trying to get his best friend together with the person he likes could be this infuriating.

It’s not only that he has to continually reassure Changmin that no, skater boy – whose name is Eric Sohn, stop calling him skater boy, I can hear the “derogatory” even if you don’t say it out loud, Changmin – is not dating you, yes, he heard it with his own two ears, and yes, Eric said it with his own words. Saying this over and over, honestly, is annoying enough. Younghoon can deal with that, though. It’s just a product of Changmin’s own insecurity and lovesickness, nothing that he can control.

But actually trying to set the two of you up?

Torture.

They first devise a stroll at the mall, just to get you two to actually maybe talk. Kevin demands that this plan be put first because he cannot stop screaming over the fact that the two of you are so whipped but haven’t spoken a single word to each other ever.

Which, honestly, same. But at least Younghoon doesn’t yell about it in the group chat.

(Sometimes, looking at all of the capital letters in Kevin’s messages gives him a headache.)

The plan is to invite both you and Changmin to the mall, then ditch so the two of you will maybe actually exchange a few words with each other by the end of the day. It’s going pretty well – both of you have agreed to go, completely unaware that the other is showing up – but then you have to cancel because of a sudden quiz you need to study for the next day.

Well, fine. Younghoon just ends up shopping with Changmin for the entire afternoon (Eric still ditches for obvious reasons – cough, Changmin, cough – and Kevin has to study for the same quiz, which he curses about endlessly in the group chat for an entire day). Not a big deal. Younghoon likes clothes, and against his better judgement, he likes Changmin.

So no harm done. Besides, there’s always next time, right?

Wrong.

The university dance team has a concert coming up that Kevin begs you to go to, all under the guise of supposedly supporting one of his friends, Juyeon. When you show up at the venue, Younghoon can still tell you’re confused over why you’re there – you don’t really know Juyeon, he hears you hiss to Kevin, so what’s going on? – but you seem nice enough. Friendly enough. Younghoon likes you immediately.

This plan isn’t as straightforward as the mall-ditching one. A certain Ji Changmin is one of the best dancers on the team, so he has his own solo halfway through the show. Younghoon proposes that Kevin force you to show up so you can melt over Changmin’s performance and either profess your love right then and there (which is the ideal case) or at least compliment the dancer on his skills. Either way, it gets the two of you to talk.

So, suffice to say, Younghoon is pissed when his well thought-out, perfectly structured plan falls apart when you have to leave before the end of the entire show because your roommate needs you to do something or the other that is somehow more important than you confessing your undying love for Changmin.

(Nothing, he complains later in the group chat, could be more important than that. Not even your roommate nearly setting the whole dorm on fire. Eric might beg to disagree, but Younghoon will just tell him to beg.)

Well, it kind of works out. Your roommate’s fuckup doesn’t happen until after Changmin’s performance, and Younghoon gets a front row seat to your jaw literally dropping when he comes onstage and starts dancing the way his dance major body always does. Younghoon legitimately thinks he could pick stars out of your eyes, the way you’re staring at Changmin. And even though you have a hand over your mouth, he can easily tell you’re smiling like no tomorrow.

So Younghoon gets the satisfaction of both seeing your reaction to Changmin’s performance and telling Changmin that his crush watched him dance. The wave of shock that immediately crawls up his best friend’s face makes Younghoon want to cackle and shake his head at the same time. It gets even better when Younghoon relates the look on your face as you watched and the compliments you told him to pass on.

Changmin has never smiled that widely or that shyly, ever. As his best friend since childhood, Younghoon will attest to that. It’s amazing and offensive and slightly gross.

God, Changmin’s whipped.

But this small success doesn’t make up for half of the entire plan that failed. You and Changmin still didn’t talk, after all, even if you fell even deeper in disgusting love. So Kevin advocates for a return to the simple method of making plans and ditching.

This time, it’s a movie that the schemer line (hey, Younghoon came up with that name – he thinks it’s a damn sight better than Kevin’s “The Boyz,” regardless of what the younger boy says) plans to ditch you two at. Kevin suggests horror, mainly because he’s not going to be there to watch it, but also because of the ages-old cliché where you’ll probably get scared and hold Changmin’s hand or some shit.

(Younghoon knows it won’t be the other way around not because of some sexist idiocy, but because Changmin laughs at possession and ghosts and keeps horror movie masks in his room to scare his friends with. He thinks Annabelle and Chucky are cute. Worst case scenario, you happen to enjoy horror too, and the two of you bond over your weird interests. Which isn’t even a worst case scenario, because you two will talk, and that’s the whole point of the plan.)

They really think it’s going to work this time. Kevin reports you arriving on time to the theater and immediately runs off so you won’t see him and start asking questions like why he’s hiding behind the potted bushes outside a nearby bistro. Younghoon and Eric wait with bated breath at the campus café for any last-minute updates before Kevin gets back.

When Kevin actually shows up at the café, having taken the bus back from the theater, they’re about to celebrate a plan finally completed. Younghoon thinks he’s going to start screaming from relief.

Then a text shows up on Kevin’s phone from you, asking why he never showed up.

Panic.

When they finally get their minds together, Kevin rattles something off about a family emergency and a call he had to take, which gets you off his back for a bit. But then he asks if you actually went to see the movie anyway.

It turns out you left fifteen minutes later when no one showed up.

No one.

Meaning Changmin never got there either.

Eric slams his head on the table. Kevin looks like he’s about to explode. Younghoon himself is about to throw his drink at something when he gets a text from Changmin mere minutes later, asking where he is and why no one’s at the theater.

breadhoon: it’s so late?? why didn’t you text earlier??

qminnie: the bus was late :/// why isn’t anyone here? I know it’s not just because the theater is dark, I walked around all the seats and couldn’t find you or kevin

Kevin starts screaming.

As Eric’s shoving a yelling Kevin out of the café and apologizing to the baristas, Younghoon just fires off a quick excuse to Changmin, who’s apparently still at the theater – I’m really sorry, my dad called about something and it ran super late, just watch the movie and let me know how it is – all the while internally screaming as loudly as Kevin physically is in this moment.

Later that evening, Kevin texts the group chat with the question on all of their minds.

moon boy: how is it that all of our plans fucking failed

Younghoon just wants to jump off the top of his dorm building.

It turns out that Eric, despite being the youngest of the three of them, has the most brain cells. He proposes something so simple but with the potential to be so effective that it blows Younghoon’s mind.

“Well, if ditching them to be alone doesn’t work, we might as well just be there,” he reasons over morning cups of coffee (courtesy of Kevin, who lost rock paper scissors and is still pouting over it). “Someone throws a party, we all show up, and we can play, like, mafia. Or truth or dare or whatever. That’ll get them to interact, probably.”

It’s a beautiful plan. Younghoon hugs the younger boy and proclaims him the smartest freshman he’s ever met (“I’m pretty sure I’m the only freshman you’ve talked to this year, Younghoon.”). Kevin praises the higher beings for the seven tenths of a working brain cell that Eric holds.

They work out the details quickly. Sangyeon will host the party – he holds one every other month anyway, so it won’t be too much trouble to let him know what’s going on. Besides, his parties are usually pretty controlled, so less risk of someone doing something illegal and freaking everyone out. Younghoon, of course, will bring Changmin. Kevin will bring you and Eric. In turn, Eric says he’s going to bring his friend, Sunwoo, because, quote unquote, “I need a freshman to keep me sane after dealing with you messes of upperclassmen.”

(Well. He has a point. Younghoon may look put together, but the only things that register in his thoughts most of the time are anime and bread. Kevin doesn’t even bother looking put together, which only speaks volumes about his level of brain chaos.)

“If this doesn’t work,” Kevin declares the moment they finish hashing out the plan, “I’m going to drown myself in one of the fountains.”

“It will work,” Eric says, determined. “It has to.”

Younghoon doesn’t say anything. All of their past failures have taught him to keep his mouth shut. However, if this plan fails, he’ll gladly jump into a fountain with Kevin and inhale water up his nose.

. . . . .

~ you

“You’re not going to ditch me, are you?” you ask for the umpteenth time, narrowing your eyes once more at your (now exasperated) friend.

“No,” Kevin groans, rubbing his temples. “I’m not going to ditch you, and for the last time, there were emergencies, okay?”

You want to give them the benefit of the doubt, you really do. Especially Eric – there’s no way he would do anything malicious to you on purpose (meanwhile, if Kevin was mad enough, he just might), he’s just too sweet. But first Kevin dragged you to this dance show that you’ve never been to before, which was weird enough, and the timing for that last movie cancellation was too coincidental to not be suspicious. If it was just him cancelling, you might not question it, but none of the three showed up.

Kevin’s planning something, probably with Eric and Younghoon. You just don’t know what.

“Uh huh.” You make sure to show your disbelief in those two words as you walk up the steps to Sangyeon’s house. “Damn, it’s been a long time since I’ve been here.”

“It’s so big,” Eric says from behind where he’s finally caught up to you two. His friend, Sunwoo, lingers quietly at his side, though his wide eyes betray his amazement.

“I always forget how big this place is,” Kevin agrees, ringing the doorbell. “Just stay on the ground floor, though, it’s not too bad. And watch your drinks. Sangyeon’s parties are usually pretty chill, but anything could happen.”

You snort. “Yes, Mom,” you mock, just as the host himself opens the door. “Hey, Sangyeon!”

“Y/N!” He pulls you and Kevin in for a short hug, then smiles at the visibly nervous freshmen standing behind you two. “Oh, hi! You must be Eric and Sunwoo, right?”

They just nod, still awed. Kevin stifles a snort as your lips curl into a fond smile – it’s weird to remember that you used to be a freshman just like them,. There isn’t much more time to think, though, because Sangyeon quickly ushers the four of you inside and all of your thoughts drown in the party’s chaos.

A couple of hours pass in mind-numbing peace. Kevin mixes you an atrocious cocktail that you pour down the sink when he isn’t looking. You watch Jacob shake his hips on the dance floor while Kevin twerks to Beyoncé. Even Eric and Sunwoo, who were originally just hovering around you, loosen up after a shot or two and find someone else they know to talk to, a freshman whose name you’re pretty sure is Hyunjoon.

Things are going well, you think in your tipsy haze. No one’s thrown up yet, no one’s passed out (well, Felix looks pretty sleepy, but he’s a sleepy drunk – how much Jisung already managed to give him to drink, you aren’t sure), and best of all, no one’s done anything stupid that’ll go viral on the school’s Snapchat. This is nice.

Then Kevin grabs you by the wrist, done twerking, and hollers unintelligible words in your ear as he drags you to the edge of the dance floor. He says more, but all you catch is “watch” and a yelled “YOUNG BOON.” Or something like that.

Confused, you just try not to spill your drink as Kevin pushes you through the crowd that’s forming in the living room. There’s a lot of yelling and cheering as the music changes, and then someone gets pushed to the middle of the dance floor.

A hand flies to your mouth.

It’s Changmin.

“Kevin,” you hiss. “Kevin! That’s Changmin!”

Even drunk, your friend manages to give you the most judgmental look you’ve ever seen. “No shit, Sherlock,” he snaps. “Just watch!”

For a moment, Changmin just stands in the middle of the circle that’s formed, eyes wide and doe-like (and absolutely fucking adorable, even under the red lighting). Then something in him shifts – it nearly gives you whiplash – and the dancer Changmin you saw that day Kevin dragged you to the concert comes out in full force.

It’s short, his performance, much shorter than the five-minute long solo he had at the concert. But holy fuck, it’s explosive. Even the smallest flicks of his fingers seem to send off sparks of light, red glinting off his face and the buttons on his shirt.

He has you captivated, so much so that you don’t register Kevin shifting until he’s positioned almost directly behind you. Changmin’s dance is winding down, a softer look coming back into his previously focused eyes, and everyone’s cheering and starting to clap before a harsh shove sends you sprawling forward.

For a moment, you stand right in front of Changmin, eyes undoubtedly wide with confusion as the situation filters through your muddled brain. Embarrassment begins to spread through your body as people begin to chant, “DANCE! DANCE! DANCE!”

Fuck.

This must have been Kevin’s plan.

Whipping your head around, you try to find and glare at your friend (you’re seriously rethinking that title), but he’s already disappeared. You then try to shrink back into the crowd, but they don’t let you. Someone plucks the cup from your hand, erasing your last excuse for leaving the circle of screaming partygoers as you look around desperately for a way out.

Then a hand extends into your vision, fingers twitching in a gesture you’ve come to associate with a certain person at a certain time at a certain place, two ten p.m. on Mondays and Wednesdays just inside the literature building.

Slowly, you look up to see Changmin shyly smiling back, eyes glinting in the way you’ve come to (not so) secretly adore.

A grin unconsciously spreads across your face as he launches back into his dance, more laid-back and flowy this time, much like the moonwalks he does down the halls at school. Almost on instinct, you lurch into his space, barely managing to brush over his foot as he nimbly steps away.

On a normal day, the dance you do is already messy and weird to passersby – you’ve made your way onto at least one of the university Snapchat stories already – so you can’t imagine how this looks in the moment. It must seem so uncoordinated, especially with your limbs loose with alcohol (Changmin still moves as steadily as ever, what the fuck) and the fact that you can’t really see where you’re stepping in the dim red light of the room. But it doesn’t matter – Changmin’s grinning so widely and you’re laughing, really laughing, loud enough to overpower what you think is Kevin’s yelling (it sounds something like “WHY ARE YOU DOING YOUR FUCKING MATING DANCE AND NOT DANCING LIKE A NORMAL PERSON?”, so it must be him), and everyone’s cheering and clapping and even though you can see a few phones being pulled out, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t fucking matter. All that matters is your fingers brushing against Changmin’s, his laugh ringing in your ear, and the smiles on your faces until –

Until Changmin grabs your outstretched hand, tangling his fingers in yours, and encircles your waist with his free hand before dipping you down until his face hovers just a foot above yours.

Someone’s screaming, someone that definitely sounds like Kevin, but you can’t process it. Everything feels like you’re underwater – muffled, blurred, indecipherable. All you can think of is how fast your heart is beating, how hot your face feels, and how intensely Changmin is staring into your eyes.

Holy shit.

You can barely breathe.

When Changmin eventually lets you up to screams and hoots, your knees almost buckle. If not for his fingers still entangled in yours, you probably would’ve collapsed, but he seems to sense this and grips your hand even tighter.

The smile can’t leave your face, even though it turns smaller and shyer as the crowd disperses and you’re left holding Changmin’s hand for no reason. You should let go, probably, but you don’t want to, and Changmin doesn’t seem uncomfortable with it either. Still, the physical link between you two only grows more and more obvious as the two of you stand in silence, unable or unwilling to speak.

Changmin finally breaks it. “Hi,” he says in this voice that legitimately makes you want to crumble into the ground. It’s soft, it’s sweet, it’s something entirely uncharacteristic yet at the same time so fitting for the boy who just danced his heart out on Sangyeon’s living room floor. “I’m Changmin.”

Your voice leaves you, and the minute you take to find it feels like an eternity. These are your first words to him, your mind screams – don’t say anything stupid!

Staring into his sparkling doe eyes, you swallow hard before saying your first words to the boy who may or may not have already stolen your heart.

“Hi,” you say, smile threatening to grow even wider, wide enough to split your face. “I’m Y/N.”

. . .

~ changmin

He’s only heard three words from you, but Changmin thinks he could drown in your voice. It’s lovely, smooth in a way that flows over his body like warm spring rain. Willingly, he would stand under the shower of your gentle tones, putting his face to the sky and letting your words wash over him, soothing his skin.

Vaguely, his mind tells him that it’s way too early to start waxing poetic about your voice. You’ve only spoken three words to him, for fuck’s sake – what is he even doing?

A whisper that sounds suspiciously like Younghoon floats through his brain. You’re whipped.

Well. He just might be.

“Isn’t this kind of weird?” you suddenly say, jerking Changmin out of his you-induced haze. The smile on your face is a little embarrassed, now, and he catches you glancing at your fingers still linked with his. Briefly, he wonders if he should let go – he’s the one who first grabbed your hand, after all, what if you’re uncomfortable? – but you don’t seem to hate it. If anything, your smile grows a little shyer.

Changmin may think horror movie dolls are cute, but your smile is even cuter. He might melt right then and there.

Belatedly, he realizes you’re looking at him, waiting for a response. “Um – weird?” he replies, praying that his voice doesn’t crack.

(It doesn’t, not this time. Thank the lord.)

You look down again, this time at your feet. Probably out of embarrassment. “I mean,” you say, silvery voice tickling Changmin’s ears, “we’ve been interacting for at least several months.” The full force of your smile hits Changmin as you raise your head. “But we’ve barely spoken a word to each other.” When you laugh, he hears bells. “Isn’t that strange?”

“Well, when you put it that way, yeah.” Changmin giggles (yes, he fucking giggles, what the hell, why can’t he sound any cooler than he really is?). “But I think it was lucky. Well, I think I was lucky to meet you.”

He wasn’t supposed to say that out loud. He wasn’t fucking supposed to say that – what’s wrong with him? He used to be so good at watching his words – but at least, despite his embarrassment at having revealed this part of him, he gets to see you flustered. It’s adorable, he thinks, so much more adorable than anything else in the world. “How come you, um, stepped in my way that first time?” he asks, genuinely curious.

Changmin doesn’t expect the embarrassed snort that comes out of your mouth, but it makes him laugh. “You know that meme, the one where it’s like ‘why are you doing this?’ and your brain just says ‘you gotta?’” Rolling your eyes slightly, you snicker. “That’s what went through my mind. You never bump into anyone, so, well, someone had to try to mess you up.”

Changmin’s going to print a hundred copies of that meme and tape them all over his dorm. He will never be so grateful for a stinking Internet horcrux in his entire life.

Well, okay, he’s probably exaggerating. But still.

“That’s mean,” he says, purposely pouting his lips. “Why would you want to mess me up?”

You elbow his ribs, giggling. “Someone has to bring the king down at some point.”

Changmin’s about to take advantage of his current burst of confidence to respond to that – “You think I’m the king?” – and possibly fluster you even more, but someone’s yelling “LOVEBIRDS!” in a voice that sounds a little too much like Kevin’s. Both of you turn around instinctively, which probably only fuels the lovebird fire (though Changmin can’t bring himself to care at the moment).

“WE’RE PLAYING MAFIA!” someone else – is that Jaehyun? Probably – yells. “GET OVER HERE!”

“Mafia?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow. “That…”

Changmin can hear the exasperated apprehension in your voice. He hears it in his own whenever his friend group gets together to play the game. “Let’s just see what happens,” he suggests, trying hard not to melt when you look over at him. “Someone might do something stupid?”

Your laughter sounds like sparkles, wind chimes twinkling in the breeze. Changmin wonders what he wouldn’t give to hear it for the rest of his life. “You’re right, you’re right.” Glancing once more (and smiling a little wider) at your still-linked hands, you jerk your head in your friends’ direction. “Shall we?”

As he nods, Changmin privately thinks that there’s nothing in the world that could dissuade him from following you.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for this stupid oblivious couple GOD)

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sweet-by-and-by · 3 years ago

Text

Baptized In Your Name - Arthur Morgan x Charlotte Balfour

summary: The rugged stranger who found her at her lowest turns back up on Charlotte Balfour’s doorstep, offering help as she navigates her new life in the remote wilderness. Determined as hell, she lets him teach her a thing or two about guns, and finds herself offering her own help in turn. But as questions of his past bubble to the surface, will she find the man she believes him to be, or will she learn of a darker side? word count: 3819 pairing: Arthur Morgan x Charlotte Balfour

AO3

The Northern air had always been healing. Arthur took a deep breath in, the fresh air from the Northern Kamasana River calming and crisp.

He had travelled across the Eastern Grizzlies after his ride with Rains Falls. He decided to take the long way back to camp, needing some time away after all his talk of ghosts. Away from Dutch, from John, from everyone who reminded him of everything he had lost.

The painful memories played in his mind as he rode through the mountains. He rode down into Roanoake Ridge, stopping as he approached the fork in the road at Doverhill. He chuckled at the memory of the mad scientist there, a frown settling across his face as he recalled another life lost. He wondered if he was cursed, if to meet him was to meet the angel of death itself.

It had been a few days since he found the widow of Willard’s Rest, Arthur thought to himself as he hesitated at the crossing of pathways. He eyed the road to his right, the one that would take him back to camp. His frown deepened at the thought of seeing Dutch just yet, and he spurred his horse Eastward.

It didn’t take long before he was turning off the main path towards Charlotte’s cabin. He savoured the beautiful scenery, idly watching a buck stand guard over his family as they sipped from the river’s edge.

He startled at the sound of gunfire, his attention drawing towards the sound. He reached for his holster, ice running through his veins as he realized the gunshots were coming from Willard’s Rest.

He dug his heels into his horse’s side, the loyal beast sensing his panic and darting off towards the cabin. Visions of robbers and bandits danced across his mind, fearing what he would see when he rounded the bend up towards the cabin.

He pulled his horse to a stop as he crossed through the gate, eyes scanning the homestead to assess the situation. His brows furrowed in confusion when he saw that Charlotte was alone, and he quickly holstered his weapon before she could take notice.

“Oh, it’s you!” she exclaimed as he swung out of the saddle. His worries drained away at the tone in her voice and the beaming smile she wore as she turned to greet him.

He took in the state of her, his confusion only deepening at the rifle in her hands. He tried to focus as she thanked him again for the rabbit, doing his best to keep his concern off of his face. He had only just met the woman, but he found himself worrying for her already.

He listened as she told him of her plan to shoot at some bottles, his heart lifting at the excitement in her eyes.

He offered his tips, his heart racing as he leaned in close to her. He shuffled slightly as he adjusted her stance, begging his hands to stay steady as he pointed down the barrel to guide her aim.

They worked together to improve her shooting, and by the end of their session Arthur was impressed. She may not be taking on Annie Oakley anytime soon, but he could see she took pride in her gained skills and her determination was infectious.

“Thank you for everything,” she smiled, her melodic voice drowning out his thoughts. “Would you join me for a meal? It’s the least I can do.”

Arthur nodded, not daring to speak as his chest tightened. His heart hammered at the invitation, hammering against his ribs. He followed her into the cabin and glanced around her home. The solid wood logs were familiar to him, but the decorative touches screamed of rich inhabitants. Arthur felt starkly out of place against the backdrop of luxury. He awkwardly took a seat in the ornate dining chair at Charlotte’s prompting.

He looked around and took in the rest of the cabin, and could practically hear Hosea scolding him for his gawking. Her home was full of beautiful items, the likes of which Arthur had never seen in a cabin in the woods.

He whipped his head around at the sound of the stew pot slamming down on the table, Charlotte’s hiss at the heat drawing his eyes to her. He smiled politely as she dished up his dinner, passing it to him with a “bon appetit”.

“Huh?” he slipped out before he could stop himself, and he quickly cursed his muddled response. Charlotte spoke of Aristotle with grace that would have Dutch draped at her feet, and here Arthur was sounding like some back country hick in Murfree territory.

“Please, enjoy,” she said, her eyes casting downwards in embarrassment. Arthur felt himself flush at the realization he thought it was cute, casting his own gaze down to a spoonful of stew. “And thank you again, for everything. I really am grateful.”

“Ah, it was nothing,” he dismissed, scraping his spoon against the porcelain bowl to keep himself busy.

“You’re a good man,” Charlotte said decidedly, turning away before she could see him react. He was taken aback by her conviction.

“Oh, you don’t really know me,” he murmured, his conscience heavy with the weight of misleading a poor widow. He thought of his deeds, of the list he could give her to prove his case.

“I know enough,” she retorted, busying herself around the kitchen.”There’s always more to find in ourselves, you helped me to see that.”

“My husband Cal was such an optimist,” she said fondly as she took her seat across the table from him, “I found that to be quite contagious. We were both born with the silver spoon...banquets, butlers, valets,” she trailed off.

“Sounds awful,” Arthur chuckled, a cough working its way through his chest. His ears rang and his vision wavered as he tried to suppress it. He blinked to clear his eyes, listening pointedly as Charlotte told him of her father and her fear of being crushed by the wilderness.

“Well, I reckon you’re gonna be just fine,” he coughed, struggling against his labouring breath.

“Are you alright?” Charlotte asked, her worry evident. His coughing worsened but he waved her off, rising to his feet.

“I’m fine,” he stammered, rising to his feet. The spell he was under broke, and he realized the risk he was putting her at by having come in for dinner. He rushed to get himself out the door, out of her home and away from her with his disease. The angel of death had forgotten his place, let himself enjoy Charlotte’s company and foolishly put her in danger.

“Thank you for this,” he struggled, staggering forward as the room spun around him. He forced himself to keep going, splatters of blood peppering his fist as he coughed even harder. “I think,” he wheezed, “it’s best if I just-”

And he was down on his knees.

He heard Charlotte rush towards him as he collapsed to the floor, trying to keep her back as his body shook. His lungs burned and his abdomen ached, rendering him helpless as he curled into himself.

“Stay right there,” he faintly heard, “it’s going to be okay.”

The melodic promise carried him away as darkness swallowed him.

He startled awake, another cough bringing him back to life. This one was less debilitating, just the usual tickle through his chest and throat.

He propped himself onto his elbows, looking around to register his surroundings. He forced himself to roll onto his side, pushing himself to a seat with a groan. He shook his head and ran his hand down his face, stopping to wipe blood from the corner of his mouth. He glanced around again and noticed a note at his bedside, ignoring the pain in his ribs as he leaned forward to reach for it.

“My Dear Arthur,” he read, blinking at the words before him. His face sunk as he recalled his letter from Mary just a few days before, the same greeting pulling at his heartstrings.

He smiled as he read the rest of the letter, fought through the confusion from the sleep-addled fog that still clouded his mind. He admired her penmanship, her decorative sprawl surely a result of her higher education.

He scowled at her words about the money in the jewelry box. He knew she had plenty, but his stomach turned at the idea she thought his visits were for some kind of payout. He tucked the letter away, reaching around the jewelry box for his hat. He stood, glaring at the box that stashed the bills as he pushed past the door and into the main room.

True to her letter, Charlotte was out hunting. He took another chance to gaze around the room, no memory of Hosea’s reprimanding stopping him this time. A fire roared in the great stone hearth, warming the cabin from the slight chill in the morning air. This far North the chill lingered late into Summer, and Arthur was grateful as a shiver crept down his spine.

Though he wasn’t sure the cold was to blame for that.

He looked at the fine furniture, wondering to himself how much they had brought from Chicago. He was sure it wasn’t purchased around here, though he supposed it could have been shipped up through Annesburg.

He looked at the pictures in their frames, photographs and paintings decorating the dark wooden walls. He was struck with a longing to stay, to hang his own photos alongside her relatives.

His heart ached as he continued to look around the cabin. He imagined a life here, of coffee brewed on cold mornings and conversation shared over breakfasts. The fancy furniture would take some getting used to, but he could easily see himself settling into it. Could even imagine the patter of small feet running across the floors, the chime of a child’s laugh bouncing off the walls.

He shook his head to clear that thought, the echo of ghosts rattling in his skull. He turned to the door, walking towards it as he left those images behind. There was no point in pining for something so intangible. All just hopelessly romantic dreams of a life he stopped deserving long ago.

He pushed the front door open and stepped out onto the porch. His eyes adjusted to the brightness of the sun, and he faintly wondered how long he’d been out for. A misty fog hung low in the air, the weather seeming to reflect his somber thoughts.

Arthur sighed and stepped down from the porch, greeting his horse from across the homestead. He strolled down the path at a leisurely pace, trying to savour the last few moments before mounting up and heading back to camp. He approached his steed with a pat on the neck, wiping away some dirt from their journey. Arthur noticed the horse’s trepidation to his touch, his own hair rising on the back of his neck. He was suddenly overwhelmed by an encroaching feeling of being watched.

He reached into his saddle compartment and pulled out his rifle, gripping it tightly as he checked the chamber. He looked for cover, but found nothing useful in sight.

“Well look who decided to make an appearance!” a voice cried out from the woods. Two men on horseback emerged from the thicket, guns already drawn and aimed.

Bounty hunters.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Arthur warned, “payday ain’t worth the risk you’re about to take.”

“I dunno,” the other one snickered, “they really seem to want you. I reckon we could get ‘em to ten thousand if we brought in that lovely lady of yours too, I bet she’s got all kinds of things to say.”

The first man hummed, his eyes darkening, “If we even hand her over,” he smirked devilishly.

Arthur growled, his fists clenching around the cool metal of the rifle. His lips cured up in a snarl as rage rushed through his veins. Before he could think, his barrel was pointed between the man’s eyes and a bullet ripped through the air. Arthur quickly dispatched the other one, whose bolt was still half-cocked in loading when his body slumped down the side of his horse.

Arthur heaved as his rage coursed through him, snorting furiously and spitting at his feet. He fought back another cough, not willing to let his victory be spoiled by another fit.

He watched as their horses took off, throwing their heads back and whinnying as they galloped away. He sighed and shook his head, slinging his rifle across his back as he went to get rid of the bodies.

He whistled for his horse, who met him dutifully as he hoisted the first bounty hunter up. He slung the body over the horse’s rear, the man’s arms and legs dangling morbidly as he hung from the beast. He reached down to lift the other hunter over his shoulder, and he whistled again for his horse to follow him.

They walked the bodies down to the water, stashing them behind a rocky coverhang at the base of the waterfall. He quickly washed the blood from his coat in the pool of the river, hoping it wouldn’t stain. He wasn’t sure how much laundry the girls were doing anymore, not that he would be in camp long enough to have it washed anyway. His stops there were getting shorter and shorter between Dutch’s errands, the state of the camp only adding to his souring temperament.

Once he was satisfied with his cleaning, deciding it wouldn't get much better than this, he walked back up the hill to Willard's Rest. He wanted to make sure there was no trace of the bounty hunters left, get their horses good and gone before Charlotte returned from hunting. He held back another cough, frustrated by the ache in his lungs. He had barely done any heavy lifting, nothing that would even have him breaking a sweat a few months ago, but now he could feel himself on the edge of exhaustion.

He passed under the wooden arch and paled when he spotted Charlotte standing on the front porch. She held a hat and a pistol in her hands, remnants he had missed from the bounty hunter’s corpse. He sighed and cast his gaze down to his feet, keeping his eyes hidden beneath the brim of his hat as he approached her.

She turned to look up at him, her confusion evident as he drew nearer. Her mouth opened as if she was going to speak, but no words came.

"Mrs. Balfour," Arthur murmured, stopping when he reached the steps of the porch. He kept his head dipped, resting his hands on his gunbelt and waited for her to speak.

"Please, it’s Charlotte" she said, looking between him and the hat in her hand, "is everything alright? I found this by the gate, a-and there was blood in the dirt…"

Arthur said nothing, just refused to meet her gaze.

"Did something happen? Are you alright?" she asked, her tone more insistent. Arthur heard worry in her voice, foolishly hoping she was afraid for him, not of him.

"I'm fine," he muttered, "some...some men came lookin up here, tryin' to find somethin'."

"Oh my," she gasped, "did you chase them away? What on earth would they be looking for up here? Perhaps it was Cal's relatives, I wrote to them regarding his...incident."

Arthur almost smiled at the innocence in her eyes, but the weight of the situation kept him serious.

“No,” he drawled, shifting uncomfortably where he stood, “they-uh. They were lookin’ for me. Bounty hunters,” he admitted after a long pause.

He watched Charlotte’s expression shift as she realized what he was saying. He waited for the moment she kicked him off of her porch, shooed him away like the mangy dog he was.

“You’re a criminal,” Charlotte said simply. Her tone was dangerously even.

“I told you, you don’t really know me,” he warned, “I’m not a good man.”

He cringed as Charlotte unconsciously took a step away from him. The action cut through him, made his shame swell and his chest ache. He knew he deserved it and so much more..

The two of them stood there for a moment, tension hanging thick in the morning air. Arthur turned away, clenching his hands into fists at his side and hung his head as he walked away from the cabin. “You don’t want me,” he said forcibly. “I’ll leave. You won’t have to worry about seein’ me no more.”

“What kind of outlaw would just leave?” Charlotte called out, and Arthur froze at her words.

“What?” he gaped. He turned to face her, finally looking up.

“Should I expect to go in and find that you’ve robbed me blind?” she asked.

“No,” Arthur said slowly.

“And will you turn your gun on me and force me to lie with you?”

“No!” Arthur sputtered, appalled that she would even suggest it.

“Well, I’m not sure you’re quite the bad man you seem to think yourself,” she said, her face set with that same determination that he admired so much. She stepped down from the porch and walked slowly towards him. “In the city, everything is painted so black and white. But out here,” she gestured to the forest that surrounded them, “I see clearly now that there are so many shades of grey.”

She closed the last of the distance between them and reached out to rest her hand on his arm. He felt himself relax at her touch, noticing the sweet scent of her perfume that mingled with sweat from her hunt.

She placed her other hand under his chin, dragging his gaze up to meet hers. “You’re a good man,” she said, the steadiness of her voice and the fire in her eyes almost too convincing, “I can feel it in you.”

Arthur didn’t dare to move, barely dared to breathe. Worried that at any moment he would wake to see the waxed canvas of his tent and find that all of this was just some far-fetched dream. His eyes searched Charlotte’s, looking for some kind of trickery or deceit. All he could see was kindness, and he found himself leaning forward against his better judgment.

He startled when his lips pressed against hers, surprised by their softness. It had been some time, but he didn’t remember it feeling this easy in the past. Not even Mary, whose secret, stolen kisses always gave him such a rush.

He was shocked to feel Charlotte return his affections; kept waiting for her to push him away. Instead, she met him with a soft passion that entranced him, made him unable to stop himself from running his tongue along her bottom lip and deepening the kiss.

She opened to him willingly, wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in close. Their tongues danced, the taste of coffee on her lips swirling around the cigarette smoke that lingered on his. Nothing else existed in that moment; not bounty hunters or wolves or even Dutch and his plans. Nothing mattered but the taste of her on his tongue, the soft fabric of her shirt beneath his fingertips.

She pulled away after what felt like eternity, leaning her forehead against his. He ducked his head to steal one more chaste kiss in case this was the last chance he had.

He drew back when he felt a teardrop against his cheek. He opened his eyes to see Charlotte’s brimming with tears, silently crying as she squeezed her lids tightly. Arthur reached up to cup her cheek, wiping away the falling teardrops gently with his thumb.

“I-I’m sorry,” he said lowly, his voice all whisky and honey, “I shouldn’t’a- I mean I-” he stammered, returning to his senses. He stepped back and pulled his hand away like it had been burned.

“No,” she choked, “it’s not that. I wanted it- I do want it. I just...,” she hesitated, hiding her face in her hands as more tears flowed, “it’s Cal.”

Arthur’s stomach dropped, a wave of guilt and shame washing over him at the reminder. Widow or not, Charlotte was a married woman. And here he was, stepping right over her husband’s grave to make his move.

His mouth tasted bitter, no longer of coffee and cigarette smoke or the underlying hint of her. He stepped back farther, putting even more distance between them.

Not knowing what to say, he stood aside as Charlotte cried. He forced himself not to reach out to comfort her. He didn’t trust himself not to take, not to hold her in his arms and will everything else to fade away again.

“I make a terrible widow,” she laughed humourlessly, “my husband is barely ten minutes into the grave and I’ve already fallen for the first handsome stranger that crosses my threshold,” she shook her head, her voice catching in her throat.

She smoothed her skirts and wiped away her tears, straightening herself to try and regain composure. She looked to the sky and smiled sadly.

“I think it’s best if I go,” Arthur said, adjusting his hat.

“I wish I could say that I didn’t agree,” Charlotte replied, “but just for now. I’d like to see you back soon, though perhaps without the bounty hunters next time.”

Arthur frowned as the guilt returned. Charlotte stepped forward to place a kiss on his cheek, resting her hand on the other side of his face to draw him in.

“I don’t care what you are,” she whispered against his skin.

“I ain’t got long,” he replied, his head swimming with thoughts of bounty posters and doctors and Pinkertons.

“Once a widow, always a widow,” she joked, “at least now I come with some experience on the matter.”

Arthur laughed, wondering how such a fine society lady could have such humour. Before he could think on it for too long, she was backing away to return to her porch.

“Goodbye, Arthur,” she said, “Arthur Whoever-You-Are.”

“Morgan,” he said, “but, uh, don’t go lookin’ it up. Please.”

She nodded in understanding. He took in the sight of her one last time, trying to memorize each detail of her for his journal. He stared as she reached for the door handle, opening the heavy wooden door and disappearing into the cabin.

Arthur sighed and whistled for his horse, swinging himself into the saddle as he prepared to ride away. He turned back to look at the cabin, his mind racing. He tried not to let himself hope, but he felt lighter than he had in years. So maybe, just for now, he could let himself believe that things would work out. That he could find something he needed at Willard’s Rest, and he could be something in return to the widow that lived there.

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #charlotte balfour #arthur morgan x charlotte balfour #arthur morgan/charlotte balfour #fanfic #fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfic #my goal was to make this read like a paperback novel with a shirtless werewolf on the front of it #so i hope you enjoy 😅#my fic

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aminiatureworld · 3 years ago

Text

In My Dreams IV

Characters: Xiao, fm!reader

Word Count: 3,167

Warnings: Brief depiction of violence, nightmares

Premise: The past is many things. Something to admire, something to learn from, something to hold dear. And yet how unreliable it can be, especially in the hands of ghosts.

In which the reader dreams of the past.

Author’s Note: Translation notes and historical references will come after the fic. This one was a little sketchy/ooc, prolly because I’m tired.

Xiao

If there was one thing that you appreciated most about your relationship with Xiao it was the fact that he never attempted to cage your independence.

Though the adeptus had a penchant for clinginess – something he’d never actually admit to – the circumstances of both his and your past had set a standard for a level of separation that you greatly appreciated. You were never pressured to tell Xiao about things you weren’t comfortable sharing and in return you never pressed your partner in regards to topics or events that made him somewhat uncomfortable.

And yet there was something very isolating about such a freedom.

It was an ordinary enough commission, laughably so in fact, the kind that you could knock back in ten minutes flat if you put a little effort into it. Treasure Hoarders were once more encroaching on Liyue, this time gathering at the vicinity of Dunyu Ruins, something that would surely be a hazard to the archaeologists who gathered to study the lost jade monument. The act of chasing out the Treasure Hoarders was indeed easy enough, and it was only until you started rifling through their loot that you found yourself uneasy.

The lid was an innocuous enough item. Though the box that it once covered was nowhere to be found it must’ve been a work of art, as the smooth tortoiseshell lid was clearly the result of patience and love. Painted a deep blue it depicted a snowy scene, with a castle or cathedral at the front and center. The building itself was of a unique design; a tall turret stuck out at the top while small onion domes sat a little lower, each painted a more outlandish color than the last. The architecture was completely unlike what one might see in either Liyue or Mondstadt, and really there should’ve been nothing to it except the odd design of the building. Yet the moment you set your eyes upon the building you felt something harden in the pit of your stomach.

You never thought about what you couldn’t remember; after all, what was the point of it? Why mourn something you weren’t even sure was good or bad? Yet in that moment you felt that you would give very little to not remember just a little bit. At least enough to know why the image of a cathedral in the snow made you wish deeply for something you couldn’t remember, and frightened you just as much.

“Something’s wrong with you face.”

“Xiao!” You sputtered, surprised by the sudden bluntness of your partner. “My face is just fine, a little dirt won’t kill me.”

“That’s not it.” Xiao scowled. “Your face is harder than usual. Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened! Sometimes I just don’t smile, okay?” You instinctively moved the corners of your mouth upwards, trying to ignore the sudden jump in your heart rate. “I’m fine.”

Xiao looked supremely unimpressed at your efforts, sighing and flying up to the balcony of the Inn. You sighed, letting your expression once more droop. It was easy sometimes to forget how in tune Xiao was. You wouldn’t expect it from an adeptus who had spent thousands of years mostly secluded from humans, but your partner was impressively good at reading your mood. Usually you didn’t mind the ability of his, even welcoming the fact that he so bluntly brought up the question of your feelings. But today you wished despite yourself that he was a little less aware. After all, how could you explain to your partner what you didn’t even understand yourself?

The rest of the night was oddly tense. Though Xiao said nothing you could tell from the way he stared intently at your face that he hadn’t given up his suspicions. For your part you tried to ignore his gaze, talking about trivial matters such as the question of replacing the Guild roof and the fact that you had managed to gather a few Qingxin during your commissions. All the while you felt the roiling of your heart; and all the while you kept rubbing your fingers along the smooth finish of the lid in your pocket as if in doing so you might suddenly be struck with what you currently missed and currently, desperately, needed.

The next day you walked up to Katherine utterly exhausted. Though you’d made a concerted effort to sleep, knowing that if not you’d just arouse more worry in Xiao, most of the night had been spent tossing and turning, your eyelids feeling paper thin as you attempted to drag yourself down into the depths of sleep. Of course now that the sun was shining you felt like even a stone bench would be a soft enough mattress. Blinking heavily you smiled awkwardly at Katheryne.

“Any commissions today?”

“Two ordinary sweeps and one request.” Katheryne tilted her head slightly. “Are you sure you don’t need rest?”

“I’m perfectly fine Katheryne, thank you for worrying. You said there was a request?”

“Yes. It seems that the citizen who noticed the Treasure Hoarders for us claims to have been robbed by them. He says to meet you at Dunyu Ruins so you can hand over the item.”

“And what item is that?”

“He said it was some sort of box lid. He didn’t give many details I’m sorry. If you’re uncomfortable though of course we could send someone with you.”

“I’ll be fine, thanks for worrying.”

“Of course! Good luck!”

“Thanks.”

You turned around, trying to stem the ice that flooded your veins. Who was this man to whom the cathedral belonged? How did he come across such an odd item, was he from one of the other nations of Teyvat you hadn’t visited? Most of all you wondered if he held some connection to your past. The idea thrilled you in some way, though dread also lingered. You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to meet this mysterious person. Commissions were commissions however; you wouldn’t betray the Guild. No matter how much you wanted to; you couldn’t.

The Dunyu Ruins were still, no monsters seemed to linger at the gates and no other adventurers peeked out from behind old walls. The air was utterly still, something which worried you greatly. Walking at an increased rate you sought out your mysterious commissioner. The more you thought about it the more you wished the whole thing to be over as soon as possible. Turning the corner you stopped in your tracks, gazing in awe at the person a few meters in front of you.

The first thing you thought was how oddly he was dressed. The second thing was that he was much younger than you had expected. The third thing was that you felt an odd sense of familiarity from him.

“Ah yes, the adventurer who accepted my commission. Have you brought what I asked of you?”

Though a response was certainly in order you found the words stuck in your mouth. Staring at him you felt the ground shift between your feet slightly. He was familiar, this young man in front of you, and yet he was also a perfect stranger. He seemed more like an apparition than anything, a spirit who had yet to cross to the far side. You stepped closer, reaching out your arm slightly. If you went to touch his shoulder, would your fingers go right through him?

“You really must think it’s odd that I’ve returned.” The man chuckled. “I assure you I’m completely real. You weren’t the only one to survive sister, though I know that information might be too little too late?”

“Sister?” You snapped out of your trance. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Surely you aren’t pretending not to recognize me? I think that’s beneath even you. Come now, was I such a brat as that?” Reaching out the young man went to grab your hand. Instinctively you pulled away, feeling discomfort shoot through you.

“I don’t know what you mean? And you certainly aren’t my brother! I’ve never had a brother!”

“Then who was the kid you lived with your whole life before the incident?”

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know about any incident or any brother. You asked me here to return something so I’m returning it.” Reaching for the lid you thrust the little work of art in front of you. “Here. Take it.”

“So you really don’t know who I am?” The young man reached out to take the lid. “How is that possible? Have they gone so far as to erase me from your memories? Have I been taken out of your family?”

“They?”

“The gods.” The young man’s eyes seemed incredibly harsh all of a sudden. “Their presumptiveness holds no bounds.”

“Don’t speak of the archons that way.”

“Answer me this,” the young man ignored your protest, “where are you from.”

“Why should I tell you that?”

“Humor me.”

“I…” You stood there for a moment, wondering whether or not you should tell this strange figure the truth. Morbid curiosity floated in your mind, and you took a sharp breath. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

“So I really have been erased from your mind.”

“Nothing’s been erased! I just don’t remember, should that surprise you so much?”

“Yes, it does. I see my plans will have to be changed.” The young man took a deep breath. “Very well then, we shall see what we shall see. I have an offer for you.”

“And what is that?” You felt suspicion wash over you.

“Join the Abyss.”

“Over my dead body!” Instinctively stepping away you drew your polearm. So that’s what this was about.

“I figured you might say that. However, let me tell you this. Our family was torn apart by the cruel whims of faraway gods. Teyvat suffered the same fate, still suffers it. You may not remember what happened to us, but I know it is buried in you somewhere. If you wish to avenge our family, then you’ll join us.”

“I have no petty thoughts of revenge against the gods.”

“That may very well change.” The young man smirked. “I’ll be back in a week. I expect your answers then.”

He was gone before you could say anything, carried away by a blanket of purple stars. You stared at the empty ruins, confused and empty, feeling far worse than you had felt when you arrived here.

“You look worse.”

“Thanks Xiao.” You let out a sigh, unsure how to respond.

You’d spent the rest of the walk back to the Wangshu Inn in agony, thoughts darting back and forth as you tried to reason with yourself about the veracity of the young man’s claims. There was no proof he was who he said he was after all, no proof that he wasn’t simply insane, or trying to convince you to join him by lying. Yet there was something about him, his demeanor, his anger, something that spoke to a truth about him. Not that the idea made you any happier. After all truth or not, he was still an Abyss member, or at least an advocate. You could never side with him, even if he was your long lost family. And yet what if he was your family? What then? Would it truly be a betrayal then to simply send him packing?

Xiao’s hand enveloped your own, the soft warmth drawing you out of your confused thoughts. Looking up you found him leaning into you, the tips of his hair lightly brushing your cheeks. His eyes bored into you ask he scanned your face. You stood perfectly still. You knew what Xiao was doing, knew that he was trying to figure out the depths of your discomfort. It was valiant of him, even if you hoped that he turned up empty handed. How could you tell Xiao, an adeptus who served directly under Rex Lapis, about the man who blasphemed the gods.

“You should sleep.” Xiao finally pulled away.

“It’s still early evening.”

“You didn’t sleep well last night, I could tell. You should sleep now; maybe you’ll feel better.”

“Maybe.” You replied, knowing that even if you slept better than you had ever before nothing would change when you woke up.

Still your eyelids were heavy and your feet aching. Sleep beckoned you with open arms, and you were quick to fall into its depths. Pressing a soft kiss on Xiao’s cheek you made your way up the stairs. Collapsing onto your bed you let out a sigh of relief. Sleep was coming on fast, and you quickly found the outside world swirling away. The last thing you were aware of was a dent in your mattress, and a set of familiar eyes staring down at you, filled with affection and worry.

It was dreadfully hot. That was the first thing you were aware of. The second was how loud everything was. There was a terrible sound swirling around you, inhuman shrieks seemed to rise up from the ground beneath you, accompanied with a banging that cracked through the air, echoing oddly in a night that was all too quiet. The third thing was that you had no idea where you were. Looking around you found yourself reeling at the scene that met your eyes. The house in front of you must’ve been nice at some point, but now had fallen into ruin and disrepair. Smoke was drifting up from a door that led into the ground, and bottles lay in pieces on the ground. A wall seemed to separate the house from the outside world, so tall that you had no idea what lay beyond it. Trembling slightly you felt yourself move towards the source of the noise, feet moving despite the rising dread that you felt. Making your way down a set of stairs a few lines came to you all of a sudden.

A ceiling of amber, a pavement of pearl

The smoke was thicker now, filling your lungs, leaving you short of breath. Little bits of orange blurred your vision, wielded by strange men in strange uniforms. They seemed distorted in the smoke, made into ghosts that might haunt a child’s nightmares.

Through the narrow paved streets, where all was still

You didn’t move your head towards the back of the room, somehow you couldn’t. Your very soul fought against it. Instead you closed your eyes, overwhelmed with how hot it was.

“You’ve come so far and you can’t even look?”

The voice was mocking, familiar, full of scorn. Opening your eyes you stared at the men in front of you, the men with fire at the tips of their hands. Why did he want you to look? You knew what you’d see. Somehow you knew.

We climb’d on the graves, on the stone worn with rains

You couldn’t make it out among the smoke. All you knew was that it was red.

You screwed your eyes shut, even as sudden clarity danced before you. Someone was calling your name.

There was a hand on your shoulder.

And alone dwell forever

The smoke cleared, and with it the dream.

The scream ripped through your throat before you could even process it. You knew that you should stop, knew that you were no longer dreaming, knew that the hand on your shoulder belonged to your terrified partner. Still you screamed. You screamed and screamed and screamed.

“Hey. Hey!” Xiao’s voice was frantic. Shifting your gaze towards him you felt yourself begin to tremble.

“It, it was true. It was true, I saw him. I saw him. I saw me. It was true. I, I, they’re dead. They’re dead.”

“It was a dream. No one’s dead.”

“But Xiao, they’re dead. He was right, they’re gone and dead and somehow I forget them.”

The loneliness slammed into you, mixing with the horror that sent your stomach churning. You dug you nails into your palm, desperately trying to stop shaking. Everything seemed distorted, the light emerging through the window just as menacing as the dark.

“Take my hand.”

Xiao pulled one of your hands on his lap, gently opening it and running his fingers over the marks that now rested in your palms. Unfurling your hand you it was flat against his he covered it with his own. Letting his palm rest gently against yours he looked up at you.

“No one is dead. You were having a nightmare.”

“I was remembering, Xiao. I finally remembered something. And now I wish I never had.” You unfurled your other hand, wiping furiously at the tears that pooled in your eyes. “I’m so alone Xiao, I’m so alone.”

“You aren’t alone.”

“My family, my family is gone. The only one left is an Abyss member. I, I’m so utterly alone.”

You felt Xiao drop your hand slightly. The sudden lost connection made your founder for a moment, but soon the feeling was lost as Xiao wrapped his arms around you. Pressing kisses to your forehead his grip was tight and strong, encasing you utterly in soft comfort. Letting yourself collapse slightly you leaned into his embrace.

“You’ll never be alone. I’ll always be here.”

If promises were conveyed in actions then you had no reason to doubt Xiao’s. Though the air around you was sticky with heat you found yourself pressing into your partner’s chest eyes more, soaking up every bit of connection that you could get. Xiao said nothing more, simply keeping you in his embrace, lips brushing against your cheeks as he kissed away your tears.

You knew that he wouldn’t ask about your brother that night, perhaps not even the morning afterwards, or even tomorrow evening. After all your partner wasn’t one for words, and your relationship wasn’t built upon the expectation of painful transparency. If you weren’t ready to talk he wouldn’t push you.

Eventually your tears slowed, though the pain in your chest still burned like a brand. Bringing your hands to your chest you gazed up at the adeptus who was still wrapped around you.

“Can we stay this way a little longer?”

Xiao’s eyes gleamed catlike in the moonlight. Leaning down he brushed his lips against yours, sighing slightly as you met him with exhausted ardor. Pulling back you rested your head on your partner’s chest. The dulled beat seemed almost musical, a reminder that Xiao was alive, a reminder that he was right next to you.

You had assumed in some way that it meant he didn’t care, or didn’t want to know. Though you would’ve never thought that before, the feeling of loneliness that had threatened to swallow you up had made that perfectly clear. Yet Xiao did care, cared enough not to prod and poke at wounds that were surely bleeding even now. Cared enough to kiss your worries away, cared enough to let you embrace him as long as you needed. Cared enough to show that you weren’t truly alone.

In a week you’d give the young man who had once been your brother an answer. In a week you’d face the fact of your loneliness, of a family that you’d once been a part of. In a week you would let yourself be truly lonely. But until then you would listen to the familiar beat of Xiao’s heart as you remembered that you weren’t truly alone. That you never would be.

-------

The box lid itself was based off nothing in particular. The building painted on it is a reference to Saint Basil’s Cathedral.

The poem I used was “The Forsaken Merman” by Matthew Arnold

The scene in the reader’s dream is a reference to the execution of the last Imperial family of Russia. It took place in the basement of the Ipatiev House in Ekaterinburg on July 17th/18th 1918.

#genshin impact fanfiction #xiao #xiao x reader #genshin impact #genshin xiao #requested #scenarios #my writing #sorry mistagged as gn out of habit first jme

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cheri-translates · 4 years ago

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Headcanon - when someone strikes up a conversation with you

This work, 当有人找你搭讪, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it 🌸

[ VICTOR ]

The fortnightly report in LFG is happening this afternoon. Dressed in elegant and intelligent work attire, your high heels click against the floors of LFG as you head towards Victor’s office.

Victor’s still in a meeting, so you have no choice but to wait for him in the office. A new intern carries a stack of documents and knocks on the door, and you give him an apologetic smile. “CEO Victor is still in a meeting.”

The intern waves using his free hand. “That’s okay, I’ll wait here... may I know who you are?”

Apart from Goldman, nobody else in LFG knows about your relationship with Victor. As of now, you aren’t ready to disclose it to everyone yet.

“I’m the person in charge of a TV production company.”

After hearing your self-introduction, he scratches his head and makes a request.

“Ah, I’ve heard of you. Miss, would you like to give me your phone number? I could let you know in advance if CEO Victor is in a meeting, so you can save yourself the trouble from making a trip here.”

You knit your brows. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“I happen to be responsible for addressing queries related to investments. If you don’t mind, we could talk about it over dinner?” Hearing your rejection, he immediately fires a second invitation.

“She minds.”

A mildly displeased voice drifts from the doorway. You turn, not knowing how long Victor has been standing there.

Surprised, you rush over to pull on his arm.

“I’m really sorry, I have dinner plans with my boyfriend,” you tell the intern.

Blood drains from the intern’s face. After saying a quick goodbye, he leaves the office hurriedly.

You lift your head and shoot him a smile. “Teacher Victor, are you jealous?”

He responds with a dark expression. “No.”

With a puff of laughter, you continue teasing him. “If that’s the case, I’ll have dinner with that boy then?”

“You dare to do that?”

It’s unusual for him to wear his emotions on his sleeves. Clearly, the attempt to steal what belongs to him has left him infuriated.

However, basking in the happy fact that Victor is jealous, you fail to notice it, and even tug on his arm. “Teacher Victor, you were jealous! Teacher Victor, your ears are red!”

“You’re prohibited from laughing.”

Presented with this rare opportunity to mock him, you won’t let go of this chance so easily. “Little Vic is just too adorable! Let Big Sister shower you with affection!”

“Looks like you aren’t clear-headed.”

You reach out to pat his head, even courting death by tousling it.

“No more pudding this month.”

“Great Victor, I was wrong QAQ”

[ GAVIN ]

Recently, there seems to be a dip in Loveland City’s security, resulting in a spate of daylight thefts. Unfortunately, you were one such victim.

You didn’t tell Gavin about this, because he has been away on a mission for a week. The last time you were on the phone with him, he mentioned that he’d still need another three days. Not wanting him to worry, you decide to report the incident to the police station. The person who attends to you is a young police officer.

“Please describe in detail the situation during the time of the incident.” The police officer requests, his face slightly red.

“I was walking along Finance Street on my way home when a motorcyclist snatched my bag from behind.”

You do your best to convey everything that happened to the police officer, who then informs you that he will contact you should there be any developments in the case. Because of that, he takes down your phone number.

After a few days, you receive a call from a foreign number. Thinking it’s a business partner, you answer without hesitation.

“H-hello. May I know if you’re that lady who reported the daylight theft incident? We’ve caught the motorcyclist. C-could I ask if you... you have time this afternoon to drop by the police station to con-confirm that it’s your bag?”

Only after a moment do you realise that the person stuttering at the other end of the line is that police officer.

“Sure, I’ll go over at 5pm, is that okay?”

The officer’s voice seems to perk up. “O-of course! See you later then!”

You treat it as him simply being happy to have solved a case, so you don’t put much thought into it. After work, you head to the station and confirm that the suspect caught was indeed the person who had stolen your items. After filing in documents and retrieving your bag, you realise that apart from your money, everything else is intact.

Just as you’re about to leave, the police officer suddenly appears with a rose in his hand. “Miss, I... I like you. Will you... be my girlfriend?”

The confession, which came out of absolutely nowhere, leaves you stunned.

“What are the both of you doing?!”

Before you can react, a chilly and clear voice cuts through the air. It’s Gavin, who has just made his triumphant return!

The moment you see him, the many days of longing courses through your veins, and you lunge towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck, nuzzling your head into his chest. “Gavin, you’re finally back! I missed you so much...”

Gavin’s firm arms gently encase you, and his eyes brim with affection, his voice containing insuppressible tenderness. “I’m sorry. I came back late and caused you to worry.”

Shaking your head, you rub your tears onto Gavin’s clothes.

“Why are you at the station? Did something happen?” Gavin comes to his senses and looks at you worriedly. You explain everything to him.

“How are you? Are you hurt?” Mother Gavin’s first priority is always you.

Even after telling him that you’re completely fine, he still turns you around twice, verifying your state for himself before he relaxes.

“Captain G-Gavin, this is...” The police officer’s voice interrupts, his face pale as he looks at Gavin.

“This is my wife.”

The tone he uses with others is colder by several degrees, completely void of the warmth he has when talking to you. His glares piercingly at the rose.

The police officer visibly trembles. “I won’t disturb Captain Gavin and... Sister-in-law then.” He hugs the rose to his chest, dashing away from the scene.

You tilt your head upwards with a massive grin. “Captain Gavin~ Jealous?”

He coughs softly, rubbing his neck as he faces the side, with no intention of replying.

Seeing this, you tug on his tie, forcing him to lower his head. Quickly, you plant a kiss on his lips. The tips of his ears turn red, and his gaze shifts around unnaturally.

With the joy of someone whose prank was a success, you ask, “So, Officer Gavin, can we go home now?”

Gavin smiles, taking your hand in his.

“Mm, let’s go home.”

[ LUCIEN ]

Ever since you got into a relationship with Lucien, you’d attend his seminars when you have time to spare, becoming a regular guest in Loveland University.

After submitting a report on Friday and seeing that it’s still early, you prepare to head over to the university to make up for lost sleep listen in.

Walking into the large seminar room, Lucien gives you a slight smile from the lectern. After giving him a wave, you look for a seat and settle down.

Biological concepts of cells and molecules are gibberish to you. Paired with Lucien’s unique and gentle voice, you soon grow drowsy, your head bobbing. Seeing this, Lucien inconspicuously pulls open the curtains, inviting the sharp sunlight into your eyes.

Suddenly, someone pokes your back from behind.

“Classmate, wake up.”

You whip your head around - it’s a bespectacled male student.

“It’s really hard to keep up in Professor Lucien’s classes. You’ve got to pay serious attention!” He gives you a small smile.

You nod, straightening up to show that you’d definitely listen carefully. But not taking a nap on this beautiful summer afternoon seems to be a waste of this conducive environment. Very soon, you start dozing off again.

The boy sitting behind you proves to be stubborn. Whenever your head bobs slightly, he’d poke you gently to wake you up.

With his amicable reminders, you get through an incredibly “cheerful” lesson. After the class is finally dismissed, the boy gives you yet another poke.

“Classmate, could you give me a way to contact you? Next time, we could sit together during Professor Lucien’s class so I can wake you up when needed.”

You shake your head. Just as you’re about to reject him, a strong arm forcefully tugs you several steps backwards.

Turning, you see that Lucien’s standing behind you, holding a bundle of files. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you to him.

“Student, do you need anything? It’s been a while since class ended ^-^”

You know that when Lucien smiles this smile, things aren’t good. He’s definitely jealous again.

“P-professor.” The male student stares at the hand around your waist, realisation dawning on him.

“Wife, you didn’t tell me that you were dropping by my class. I would have reserved a seat for you.” Lucien crinkles his eyes as he looks at you, but all you feel is coldness creeping up your spine.

You laugh awkwardly. “...hahaha there's no need to. I was in LFG just now, so I came over since I have nothing on in the afternoon. There’s no need for special treatment...”

“I shan’t disturb Professor and Professor’s wife. I’m leaving now!” The student senses that something is odd, and immediately makes a strategic retreat.

Seeing that the hindrance is gone, Lucien sets the files down, trapping you in between his arms and the table. He nibbles on your earlobe gently.

“I think I saw a little butterfly and that boy interacting constantly during the lesson. How is the little butterfly planning to explain this?”

[ KIRO ]

It’s a rare occurrence for Savin to give Kiro a full day of rest. It happens to be Christmas, so the both of you have arranged to go stargazing at Lake Misty.

Dressed in a fluffy red dress, you arrive at Lake Mistry early. Chancing on a booth selling sparklers, you decide to buy some to give your little sun a surprise.

“How much is this?” You ask the boss, holding up a box of sparklers.

The boss is a young man. Upon seeing you, a blush tints his cheeks. “It’s $2 a box.”

You rifle through your pockets, realising that you don’t have cash on you. “Do you accept payment via WeChat?”

The man eyes light up, and he immediately says, “Miss, you could become a member by adding me on WeChat. This way, I’ll sell you a box for $1, and if you buy two boxes, I’ll give you another one for free.”

Hearing such a great deal, you agree. Just as you take out your phone and input the amount needed for the sparklers, a warmth envelops you from behind.

“Good evening, Miss Chips~ I’m sorry I’m late QVQ”

You turn to see Kiro, who is wearing a baseball cap and a mask.

“You’re not late at all! Ki... Mr Chips, look, I’m buying sparklers~”

“That’s great! Let’s go play~”

Although he’s talking to you, his eyes are fixed on the young man. For some reason, you feel a chill run down your spine. Soon after, he takes your hand in his and leads you away from the shop.

It looks as though the stars are right at your fingertips. You wave the sparkler in your hand exuberantly, while at the same time telling him about what happened at the booth earlier. Kiro seems to ponder on it for a while, but soon joins you in setting off the sparklers.

Three boxes of sparklers turn out to be insufficient, and they are expended quickly. After going for a stroll together, shoulders pressed against each other, Kiro sends you home.

You sense that the smile on your little sun has a hint of viciousness in it. But you shake your head, rejecting such a notion. After all, Kiro is so adorable, right?

When he’s back at home, Kiro flips open his laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard. He enters a string of code, then pauses.

He wears Helios’ fiercest smile on his lips.

The next day, in a phone repair shop:

“Sorry, we’ve never come across a phone virus which deletes WeChat contacts. I think you should check with another shop,” says the repairman to a certain young man.

[ SHAW ]

Hearing that there would be a performance in Live House tomorrow evening, you asked Shaw for a ticket. However, he claimed that all tickets had been sold out, and there weren’t any left for you.

This morning, while taking Shaw’s jacket for him, a well-preserved ticket falls out of the pocket. Picking it up, you wave it in between your fingers. “Shaw, what's this?”

Shaw freezes. He didn’t think you’d find it so quickly.

You give him a teasing glance. “And you still said there weren’t any tickets left. Did a certain person prepare one for me in advance?”

Although there’s a slight flush on his face, he grits his teeth. “I happen to have another ticket. If you don’t want it, forget it.” While saying this, he reaches out to snatch the ticket back.

You retract your hand quickly, glancing at the arrogant boy whose intentions have been uncovered. “Who says I don’t want to go? I happen to be free tonight, so I’ll reluctantly watch this little brat perform~”

“Do whatever you want!” Shaw heads out for practice, but it looks more like he’s fleeing the scene.

In the evening, you arrive at Live House. It’s even more crowded and bustling than usual. Finding the VIP seat matching the ticket in your hand, you wait for the performance to begin.

Although that brat has a sharp tongue, it can’t be denied that he is incredibly popular. The fangirls flock in throngs. You purse your lips, planning to head backstage to look for him.

When you stand up, a group of ruffian-looking men block your path.

“Miss, do I have the honour of offering you a drink?”

You furrow your brows. “Sorry, I have something to attend to, so I’m leaving.”

“Don’t do that. Our meeting has been decided by fate. It’s just a drink.” The man standing at the forefront doesn’t intend to let you go.

“Miss, it’s lucky for our Big Bro to even notice you. Don’t refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit!”

Just as you’re at a loss for what to do, a voice appears from behind, almost bringing tears to your eyes. “Hey, what are you doing?!”

You instantly rush to Shaw, and this enrages the man. “Grab that girl and bring her to me!”

Shaw contacts security, an expression full of distaste. “Why would they let such rubbish in here. It really contaminates my eyes.”

Then, he pokes your head. “Why are you so useless? If I didn’t come look for you, who knows how you’d end up.”

You were already feeling scared and sorry for yourself. Hearing what Shaw said, your eyes redden. “Then don’t appear then! Don’t bother about me then!”

You twist around, prepared to leave. Shaw pulls you back, his voice slightly frantic. “Fine fine fine, I was wrong. Don’t cry.”

Your wipe at your eyes while pushing him away, wanting to leave.

He grips your wrist tightly, then draws you into his arms. “All right, stop crying.”

Loveland TV reports that yesterday, three men have been struck by lightning. One of them has suffered severe injuries, and it’s truly lucky that they didn’t lose their lives.

More translated and original works: here

–

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc gavin #mlqc lucien #mlqc kiro #mlqc shaw #cheri shortcake

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evertriedsoywithyourpopcorn · 3 years ago

Text

5 Reasons Roman Is Infuriating (And Why I DO NOT have a crush on him)

Chapter 5: To A Land Of Our Imagination

Read on AO3

Chapter 1

Word count: 3471

Tw: Wounds, food, swearing

~~~

Logan planned the second date two days after the first. A picnic in the imagination, that Roman insisted on helping out with.

It took them quite a while to prepare everything. A red gingham print blanket in a field of many flowers on a hill, the sight of a rather giant disney-inspired castle in the far distance, mountains enveloping the horizons; very picturesque, certainly. He even offered to set up an orchestra off the side for them, but Logan declined. Logan was worried that they would get sunburnt due to the realistic touch that he brings, but Roman insisted that wouldn’t happen. And then Logan insisted that he didn’t know that it wouldn’t.

The banter was probably what took the longest time. It started with the back and forth about the likelihood of a sunburn, and then whether Thomas would typically tan or burn, and then it spiralled into nothingness. Obviously Roman made zero sense, but Logan was still determined to prove his point.

“No, Thomas should not get a surgical beauty mark. It’s pointless and expensive when you could have the same results with the smallest amounts of makeup.”

“But it adds character! All of the glamor girls have beauty marks! And besides, why put in the effort of putting on the beauty mark every day when you can just wake up that way?” Roman rebuttals, and Logan cannot begin to express just how stupid that argument is.

“A few seconds of a makeup pencil and maybe some powder isn’t that much effort. What would be an effort is spending a ridiculous sum of money on something he might regret and want gone. It would be a waste of resources for something thought of on a whim. That money would also go into the beauty industry, the industry that profits off of one’s self-hatred.” He argues, because yes, in a world where hating oneself is so common and so profitable, the most rebellious thing one can do is to learn to love themself.

“Makeup is also a part of the beauty industry.”

“It’s nowhere near as harmful and expensive though. It’s not just about insecurities, but also accentuating features that you enjoy in yourself. It also happens to be an art form, so I’m surprised that you’d even try that useless fact.”

Roman huffs. He’s probably not that interested in the beauty mark, but sometimes impulse can make you do stupid things. He does however look upset, and Logan hesitates.

“You know what you can do with makeup?” Logan asks, and they look at each other.

“What?” He asks, still pouting.

“Make many beauty marks. And change their locations when you feel like it.” He offers, and Roman lights up like that very dangerous chemical reaction Remus and himself attempted on bonding day.

“By the fourth musketeer, you’re right!” Roman touches his own face, lost in thought. “You could switch it up daily!”

It took a while longer for him to acknowledge what they were supposed to be doing, and then they were touching up the flowers (which is when Logan notices Bells of Ireland, sticking out amongst the other flowers, and assisting in integrating them into the green fields, like the flowers just popped up amongst nature. He believes Roman had summoned them around for him, and he can’t help but smile.) and then heading to the exit so Logan could get the ‘object of his affections’.

“Are you going to be in the imagination?” Logan asks him.

“Well, duh. I’ll obviously be out of earshot, but duty calls, and I have quests to attend to! Can’t have a realm without it’s heroes, right?”

“I guess not.” Logan nods. Roman’s going to play immersive make-belief then. Very well. That does usually help with Thomas’s motivation. Logan thinks of asking to join him sometime, and then decides that would most likely end horribly. Maybe Dungeons & Dragons would be a better solution.

He leaves Roman at the doorway, going to retrieve Patton. It isn’t very hard; he finds him in the living room holding a picnic basket and smiling brightly.

“That really, isn’t necessary.” He points to the basket. “We have food at the location.”

“What’s a little more? Besides, I have a little surprise to help with the planning.” He leans in and fake whispers.

Logan blinks. “A planner?”

“No, even better. But don’t guess. You know your old Patton-ership Person can’t keep a secret for very long.”

Logan groans at the pun, and they head back through Roman’s door to the imagination. It isn’t long before they reach the flowery hills (Logan wanted it to be accessible, to avoid an awkwardly long walk), and he sits down on the large blanket. Patton coos at the view, and the enchanting flower fields.

“Is Roman here?” He asks, looking around. He sets the basket down.

“He said he wouldn’t be nearby, and I trust his word, but he is in the imagination.”

Patton lets out a sigh in relief and sits down. “Okay. I just know he’d be mad if he found out, buuut…” He opens the petite basket’s lid, and like the objects from Mary Poppins bag sprouts Janus, arms held out dramatically.

“What is up losers? I’m here to foil all of your plans.” He lightly steps out of the basket, and plops down so they’re all facing each other in a triangle. “By making them better. You’ll thank me later.”

Although Logan is surprised, he isn’t really bothered. He’s quite similar to Roman in the theatrics, so perhaps he’ll prove to add ideas that would give life and a charming flair to his own.

“Very well.” Logan pulls out a notepad from god-knows-where. “Welcome to the ‘date’.” He does quotation marks with his fingers, and Patton leans excitedly to Janus.

“I think that’s what we’re calling it now. ‘Date’, but you have to do the thing with your fingers.” He does the finger quotations.

“What a lame concept. I love it.” Janus smiles. “I’m absolutely dreading spectating this ‘date’.” He does the finger quotations, and adds a little more emphasis on the word. At least he seems to be having fun.

“So. First step: The goal.”

“Find out if Roman really does have legs.” Janus answers at the same time Patton exclaims “Marry a pretty prince!”

“That was not supposed to be a guessable statement. And both of you are wrong. Patton, we do not have legal documents and cannot legally marry. The goal is to ‘woo’ Roman.”

“There may be or may not be a very easy solution for this.” Janus suggests, lounging back and checking his nails despite his gloves.

“What would be that solution?” Logan narrows his eyes at him.

“Oh I don’t know… Tell him how you feel.” He looks at him face-on, dead-serious.

“But… He most likely does not feel the same way. Besides, he wouldn’t like something so… Insignificant. He’s embodied himself after a prince, for Newton’s sake.” Logan argues, heart clutching painfully (metaphorically, obviously. If someone’s heart clutches painfully in real life, he recommends they go to a doctor and get it checked), and looking off into the distance, calculating the odds of rejection. He so far has not detected any signs or repercussions in the romance, and with Roman’s celebrity crushes being people like Adam Driver and Orville Peck, how is he supposed to compare? He can make a schedule planner less important than a social engagement.

“Oh come on, cheer up champ! I’m sure he’ll love it no matter what you do!” Patton encourages, giving him thumbs up. Logan looks at him, unimpressed.

“But will he really? These… Unnecessary feelings have rendered me even less functioning around him, so psychologically speaking, I’ve been even less perfect around him. He lives off the idea of a perfect, film-like life. Disney prince… Disney Relationship, Disney prince partner. Why would he like me? I look like a teacher.” As Logan continues his rant, now up and pacing, Janus shoots Patton a knowing look, and Patton eventually looks at him with an unknowing look.

“What?” Patton asks quietly, as Logan rambles.

“You don’t know?” Janus looks surprised.

“Know what?”

“Roman hasn’t told you about… You know…”

Patton looks at him, attempting to decipher what he means. Eventually, he quizzically does a limp wrist.

“No!” Janus whisper-shouts, exasperated. “Of course he’s gay. I’m talking about something else.”

“I’m lost.” He admits.

Janus leans in and whispers into his ear.

“Oh yeah! He has.” Patton gives him a thumbs up.

“I need a new style!” Logan turns and points at them, and they both display their shock easily.

“Dear god no. You’d look more out of place than Remus during the cosplay phase.” Janus jerks back, appalled. (Besting Remus in being out of place while he was in Thomas’s cosplay phase is nothing to roll your eyes at. Stripper Kermit is only one of many horrendous ideas that Janus has had the pleasure of being scarred by.)

“But think about it. You often see someone in a new light when they go through a big style change, whether they’ve changed as a person or not. When we altered our outfits for the first time, it was like a fresh new start. We were new, and more impressive models of our past selves of just three seconds before.”

“I see your point kiddo, but that just isn’t you! It’ll work against you in the long run if you try to be someone that you’re not.”

“Agreed. Seriously. Not to mention you’d be boring no matter what you wear; might as well be more comfortable doing it.”

Logan considers it. He nods, and sits down. “Alright. Thank you for your encouragement. I’m still not going to tell him outright.”

Patton raises his hand. “I have an idea.”

“Alright, hit us.” Janus looks at him.

“If you are to hit us, do it gently please. And preferably on the arm. I quite like these glasses.” Logan nods, accepting his fate.

“It’s an expression.” Janus side-eyes him, and gestures for Patton to start.

“How about… We leave the idea of telling him directly as an option, but also make a plan? That way, you have many options to pick from!” He encourages, looking like a parent bargaining with their toddler.

“That wouldn't be unreasonable.” Logan takes out a pen, and clicks it on. “Now, why don’t we start?”

By the time they leave the imagination, Logan has notes full of ideas. It’s a little bit difficult to have the best brainstorms without a literal embodiment of creativity, but both of them are bad ideas to invite for different reasons, and not being in charge of creativity doesn’t stop the rest of them from coming up with creative thoughts. (If that were the case, the same concept could be applied to himself, and it would have probably killed him by now if he were the only one with an ounce of logic.)

He steps into Roman’s room. Nice as always, if not looking slightly blank. Maybe he’s just used to the disorder now.

He rips out a separate paper, and leaves it on Roman’s cluttered desk, to notify him in the future that he is no longer in his realm. He catches a glimpse of other papers on his desk, and is that-

“Poetry?” Obviously, Logan does not want to disrespect his privacy, but he does read the line he has seen. It was quite good. It seemed to be about jealousy, but he’s not the best at deciphering emotions, so he isn’t completely sure. He also catches a few typos.

He stands straight again, paces a little bit and just as he's about to sink out, he hears the imagination door open.

Roman stumbles in, heaving and drenched in sweat. He looks dull and lifeless, until he looks at Logan. It’s like a switch goes off, and he looks like his usual self again.

“Heading out?”

“That’s right. The date just ended.”

“That’s wonderful! How did it go?” He asks, strutting over, trying hard but failing to hide a limp.

“Are you alright?” Logan looks at him, and the standard first aid courses that Thomas has taken in his lifetime start kicking in.

"I'm-" And a poorly concealed wince. "Okay. Just a scrape from the dragon witch. Nothing a happy pappy prince can't handle."

"That's not something you usually say." Logan squints at him, taking a step closer. "Did you hit your head? You're starting to sound like Patton. I'm not leaving here until you let me help you."

"Ugh, fine." He flails out his arms, and then jerks them back in pain. "But seriously, how did it go?"

"It went well. Thank you for the Irish bells. We discussed things that one would do in a romantic setting, and then we dispersed. There will be another date fairly soon. I just stayed to drop off a note on your desk to inform you of our departure."

His eyes go wide. "My desk? Did you read any of my writing?" He asks, sounding panicked, with a hint of defensive nature.

"I did, actually. Not on purpose, I'm sorry. It was a poem that I believe is about jealousy. I read the third paragraph. It was quite well done." Logan bashfully admits.

"Oh. Thank you." He offers a small smile.

Logan suddenly remembers the wounds. "Now. Let's get to fixing you up. Do you have any cuts? Scrapes? Open wounds?" As he sits Roman down and checks over his injuries, he can't help but hurt a little bit on the inside. Roman's self preservation seems to have left him a long time ago, and he always gets reckless. He can't seem to let anyone see his weakness, and that's perhaps what he and Logan have most in common; although, Logan hasn't been injured physically in quite a while.

He finds a first aid kit (in Roman's nightstand. How concerning.) and helps patch up his wounds. Thankfully, Roman wasn't fully lying, as his injuries mainly consisted of bruises and mild cuts, but Logan made sure to take care of them all the same.

"I just realized." Roman whispers, eyes closed as Logan puts a band-aid on his arm.

"That's a new concept."

Roman ignores that. "You've done so much for me over the last while. To be fair, you always do things for me, but this week... Teaching me how to bake, leaving out cookies for me, which were heavenly by the way, thank you, helping with nail polish even though it was on your bed, this... It's quite a lot. I feel like I haven't done enough for you."

"Oh come on, don't metaphorically sell yourself short. This whole time, you've helped me set up my dates with Patton. Many of them, in fact. I had been nervous to tell him, and you helped me the whole way along. I am quite grateful for your contributions, Roman." Logan chuckles a little bit, because although expressing your gratitude for something that you don't care about may seem pointless, Roman still put in all of the effort. He did the planning, the setup and design, and wherever he was needed, he'd be. Logan had heard that he even managed to convince Remus to keep the funky business away from the 'dates'. That's quite a lot of work, and Logan appreciates every second of it.

"Nooo but that isn't enough! I want to take you somewhere special to thank you."

"Really Roman, that isn't necessary-"

"Thomas!" Roman screams into his ceiling. "You know how you're free in three weekends!? Yeah, well you're going to a planetarium now! Bring friends so you don't look like a loser." And sure enough, he can feel that Thomas has got the idea.

Logan's heart metaphorically explodes out of his chest with how strong it's beating. Thomas hasn't been to a planetarium in ages. It isn't really Logan's role to suggest activities on the fun side, so he's kept to himself, silently hoping for another side to bring it up. They have spare money for it. And here it is. In three weeks from now.

"That's... I don't know what to say. Thank you." He clutches the first aid kit to his chest.

"Well duh thank me, but it's okay. It's payback." Roman gives him two band-aid speckled thumbs up. "Consider it a date."

Uh-

Hm. Well, there goes Logan. On the floor. Dead.

~~~

"More sophisticated and logical word for fuck."

Logan slams open Virgil's door, just as he's putting the last details on his embroidered spider web jacket.

"Dude, what?" Vrigil turns to him, only to see Logan laying on the floor, malfunctioning.

He goes over to the lifeless form. “Logan… You, like, never come to me with your emotional problems. I can’t help people. Do you want me to tease you? Because I can totally tease you.” He pokes him, and Logan rolls over to face the ceiling.

“It’s because I never have emotional problems, Virgil. I believe in you to keep a secret however.”

“Is this about the planetarium Thomas just planned? Because I can totally see why he shouldn’t go, with all those people around, judging his every step, and the chance of being separated from his friends, or seeing someone familiar and it’s just awkward..”

“No, I agreed to the idea. I had wanted to go for quite a while.”

“Does it… Have to do with Roman?”

“Of course it has to do with Roman. Even now, he is still the largest thorn in my side.”

“Apparently you’re a masochist then. So, what’s up with him and the planetarium?” Virgil circles him, seeming bored but willing to hear the story.

“He was the one who suggested it. In fact he said to ‘a date’.”

“Ahh. So you are here for emotional issues.”

“It’s not an emotional issue. I simply wanted to tell you that I think it is an optimal time to tell Roman about my newfound fondness for him.” He sits up, and Virgil gives him a hand to stand.

Virgil chuckles. “It’s not bad to ask for help, Logan. But that does sound like a good idea, or whatever.”

“Of course it’s a good idea.” Logan says, hand bouncing up and down at a rapid pace. He looks like he’s sweating. Virgil squints.

“But you’re nervous.” He observes. “And you want to talk about it with someone.” He holds up a hand before Logan can protest. “Ah-ah. Don’t lie to me on this one. Sit down.” He takes out a chair, and then looks at Logan. “You know what, maybe not in my room.”

So they go to Logan’s room, and he explains his plans, and some worries, and Virgil nods along and agrees.

“By the way, have you been seeing the way Roman’s been acting lately?” After Logan seems to have finished with ideas, and they were just sitting together, Virgil speaks up.

“No? Perhaps. He did want to make cookies, which is odd for him, and he called me kiddo, if I remember correctly.” Logan recounts the last few days. He’s not completely sure. Roman has always been a slight enigma to him.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about. A few days ago, he came into the living room, and he was wearing a polo! If it weren’t for the colors, I would’ve thought he was Patton. And then.” Virgil stares at Logan, who looks impassively back at him. “Just yesterday, Remus told me that he dumped some of his posters into the trash.”

“Ah, perhaps he’s finally taking advantage of his wall space.” Logan says quite proudly, in a room where there are many cork boards on every left-over piece of wall he has open.

“No, you don’t get it. When’s the last time you’ve seen his room without posters?”

“To be honest, I don’t remember.” Logan admits. Virgil nods along, his eyes staring at him intensely. “Because I barely ever go into his room.” Virgil slumps. “Listen, Virgil, the concern is appreciated, and I support you continuing to collect evidence on this matter, however, it sounds like he’s trying something new out. I have no reason yet to be concerned.”

“Okay, whatever.” He gets up from his chair. “I hope you feel better, nerd. Catch you later.” He salutes, and just sinks out.

Logan continues to stare at where Virgil once was, thoughts jittering. Is Roman really acting that strange? He almost sounds like he’s trying to become Patton. Maybe he’s looking to renew his look for Thomas? He had been rather heart-broken when he misinterpreted Thomas calling him his hero. He also likes costume changes. Maybe he’s preparing something.

Logan hopes that Roman will be alright in the end. And that he himself will be as well. He takes a deep breath. He can do this.

~~~

Taglist: @crossiantgay

#logince #logan sanders #roman sanders #ts roman #ts logan #sanders sides #whoops i forgot to add the read more #5 Reasons fic #virgil sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #logince fic #tw food #tw injuries #oliver writes

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wendystales · 3 years ago

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Memories - lrh (Chapter Thirteen)

Memories (also on Wattpad)

Chapter Twelve ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ Chapter Fourteen

I position myself in the center of the panel, making the 104th pose that morning. Brandon guides me from one shot to the next, making everything easier.

Six makeups. Six hairstyles. Six changes of clothes, even though the focus was on my face. Why did I get into this?

The photo shoot was for a cosmetics brand, for which I was the cover girl. It wasn't a 7-headed bug, as I had been thinking all night, which resulted in an irritating insomnia. And even though I arrived shy and lost, when I saw my look all produced, I felt like a great hottie, which gave me the confidence to go to that studio and rock.

I was having fun, as Leah advised me. I threw my hair, made faces and danced. I shifted my attention between Brandon's camera and my cell phone, where Nico, one of the helpers, was filming behind the scenes and stirring up my social medias.

It's fun, but after the fourth change of clothes, I was exhausted. After all, that spotlight doesn't leave me and the light gets too hot.

“For you.” Nico hands me a pink lilies bouquet. I open a smile, confused.

The team that was with me today, the agency, the brand and my parents had already sent me some bouquets earlier today, congratulating me and celebrating my return to the fashion world. So whose would it be?

I hunt for the card, opening it in a rush. Nico rested his head on my shoulder, wanting to read along with me. The handwriting didn't make me doubt, they were Luke's.

“To make your day more beautiful.

Congratulations on your return.

Love, Hemmo.”

I open a smile completely shaken by that. I burst out laughing when I see under his name “and the rest of 5sos” written in a different hand.

I ask Nico to take a picture of me with the flowers and send it to him, who quickly responds with a Petunia figure with heart eyes. I know I need to drop the bouquet and go back to the photos, but it feels so difficult.

Finally, I leave the flowers to the dressing room and I focus myself. Brandon praises my goofy smile and begs me to keep it up.

I knew everyone wanted to come today and watch the photo shoot, but I begged so hard not to. If without anyone I was already terrified of, seeing everyone there, staring at me, I wouldn't leave the dressing room.

[...]

Leah and Kiki were at my house, getting ready for Ashton's birthday, and of course, to gossip. They were both super curious to know how my first shoot was and how I was feeling.

besides telling about work, I comment about Luke's flowers and, finally, I tell about yesterday's dreams that still haven't left my head, taking root in my mind, blooming when I least expect it and leaving me out of breath.

“Oh, you naughty one!” Hastings tosses me the pillow. "Are you going to tell him?" she sits up in bed.

“No! How do I tell this?” I question, not understanding.

“Luke, I remembered when we were like two pervert rabbits and we were always having sex in the corners. Simple.” Kiki shrugs, going back to making up her eyes.

“Kiki!" I reprimand her. I hide my face, laughing embarrassed. "We weren't like that…I think…were we?" I look quickly at both of them.

Kiki looks at Leah, holding back her laughter. The brunette stares at me in disbelief. Oh my God, we were! It takes time to sink in, because with Stephen, I avoided sex at all costs. It was so cold and awkward, that most of the time I was bruised and, in all cases, unfulfilled.

I remember the touch of the dream and how it felt so soft and intense, and so good. However, I still find it hard for me to have been so turned on that I started having sex everywhere.

“Are you sure?” I ask suspiciously.

"Oh, honey! I will have to tell you about my dad's birthday, have I?" Leah hugs me, making Kiki laugh.

"What about your father's birthday?" the same way I was feared of Luke when he started telling me about the day I threw up at his feet, I get with Leah.

“Well, it was my dad's 50th birthday. A big, big party and of course I invited all of you. We had just got back from Milan, you were away from Luke for a couple of weeks, so you’re kinda getting crazy by missing him.

"Make it crazy." Kiki comments.

“The plan was for us to arrive in the morning, you'd have time to see each other, and then in the evening we would go to the party. But our flight was delayed and you didn't have that time. So you decided to open the bathroom.” Leah gives a fake smile.

I took a few seconds to understand, and then I widen my eyes, wanting to sink into the ground. I can't believe we did this.

“Calm down! She didn’t told the best part”. Kiki leaves the bathroom, joining us.

“Oh, that's cool, is there a better part?” I look at them both desperately.

"Of course, there is a best part. Leah escorting you guys out of the bathroom" Kiki throws herself on the bed, laughing. “Oh God! Your faces were the best.”

“Was after that our friendship beat all the limits and you know, we got really close.” Leah smiles to me.

What was my problem? Oh Lord, I never, ever, in my all life, thought I'd give one of those. If anyone asked me, who would be most likely to do this, I would definitely say Leah, Kiki, and even Bethany, but I would never say my name.

What did Luke do to me?!

I look at my friends, shocked. They both start laughing, amused by my reaction. A few seconds later, I give up, starting to laugh too.

"Is there any other similar situation that I should know about?" I inquire with fear.

"Yes, but we don't have time right now." Kiki gets up from the bed, slapping my foot, asking me to get ready.

We turned on the music and continued to get ready. Leah goes down to the kitchen, returning with three beers. The subject changes and we start to gossip.

After hours of producing us, I come down wearing my silver sequin jacket, finding Leah with another beer in her hand.

“Well? Good? Great?” I take a stroll, showing off the leather pants and black tank top that valued my tattoo.

"I definitely would ask for your number!" she replies, making me smile.

"Do you think people will like it? I mean, isn’t that much?” I stop in a few poses while she watches me.

“Rephrase the question.” she leans against the table. I stare at her without understanding. “What you want to know is whether Luke will like it." I open my mouth a few times.

“Perhaps.” I answer softly. Hastings snorts, hiding her face.

“You two should pay for my therapy. Because it's not easy to take it.” she takes a deep breath.

I give a guilty smile. I head to the bar, grabbing a shot of tequila and flipping it quickly. I would find Luke in a few minutes and I still don't know how to face him. I close my eyes, letting the alcohol burn my throat and warm my body, along with the memories. The flashes come back to my mind, clear as water. I can hear the girls' voices again, telling them about Mr. Hastings' 50th birthday.

“Let's go?” Kiki's scream brings me back. Standing near the door, they wait for me to down another shot of tequila before we go.

Along the way, we took several photos, already moving our social medias. At the door of the restaurant, the swarm of paparazzi was already in place and as soon as we got off the car, they surrounded us. Hands and arms linked, the three of us entered, being saved by the huge walls that didn't let them see anything that happened inside.

We went to the back of the restaurant, in a more reserved space, where a long table took up half the back wall. Right away I spot Luke, laughing as he chats with Jack and another guy I don't recognize. I analyze your look, social pants and a black t-shirt.

How can someone look so beautiful, so simple?

I swallow hard when he notices our approach and looks directly at me. I look away, unable to hold on; the images screamed in my mind.

Irwin approaches, already quite excited, trying to hug the three of us at the same time. When Leah and Kiki go to greet the other guests, I calmly hug my best friend, congratulating him once more.

“Make yourself comfortable and behave” he leaves a kiss on my forehead, going to welcome other guests who have just arrived.

I turn in time to see Hemmings approaching, one glass in his hand and the other in his pants pocket. How? I hold my breath, giving a terrified smile. He opens his smile even more.

“Hey!” he says excitedly, close enough for me to hear. Those lips… what have they done… I close my eyes quickly, shutting my mind.

��Hey!” I answer awkwardly.

“How are you doing?” he hugged me, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth. I close my eyes again, feeling it radiate with amazing speed throughout my body. I let out a breath in a sigh. I manage to catch his eyes as he walks away, hiding a more mischievous smile.

“Well!” my cheeks catch fire and the jacket starts to bother me. "Thanks for the flowers earlier today." I thank, while Luke leads me to the bar. His hand firmly on my waist reminds me of that hotel room. I bite my lip, holding back the urge to bang my head on the counter. "A shot of tequila." I ask desperately.

Luke raises his eyebrows in surprise but says nothing. I turn it over without a single thought, asking for another one, just in case. The heat that spreads through my body is the result of three doses ingested. I take off my jacket and, through the bar mirrors, I see Luke shamelessly sweep my body.

“It was nothing!” he says after clearing his throat. "I'm glad you liked it. So, how was your first shoot?” he leans his elbow on the counter, propping his head on his hand, visually interested.

The effect of the alcohol starts to kick in, and so I feel lighter in his presence, not bothering with the memories between the two of us, nor the fanciful situations that my mind starts to create. I tell about the rehearsal and how fun it really was to do it. In the middle of the answer, I get enthusiastic, telling everything in minute detail. Luke looks at me smiling and interested, without interrupting me.

“I’m sorry!” I cover my eyes, laughing. “I'm talking too much.”

A few more people had already arrived, but the two of us were still there, sitting at the bar. The most interesting thing was, everyone who arrived didn't dare come here and interrupt us.

“No! I love hearing you talk.” he smiles before taking another sip of gin. I lower my gaze, totally ashamed.

"I think we'd better go sit down." I comment, seeing everyone settling into their chairs.

“Let's go?” he offers his hand, helping me off the stool. I hold into his arm, walking to the table. "Should I keep an eye on you today?" he laughs. I repress the urge to say yes, but that's not the answer to his question.

“No! I won't drink that much.” I press my lips together in a thin line, embarrassed by Ash's party.

We sat next to each other, with Calum and Noah in front of us. Luke leans his arm on the back of my chair and I'm not shy about getting close to him, even with everyone in our group staring at us curiously. We embarked on a lively conversation with everyone around us.

Michael rushes in and apologizes for being late, taking his seat next to Hemmings.

"Was she with her?" I hear Luke ask, taking my full attention.

“Yep!” Mike gives a shy smile.

“Who she?” I almost walk through the body of the australian beside me, wanting to get close to Mike.

“Nobody special.” he shrugs.

“Yeah! Go for it.” Hemmo lets go, laughing. Michael slaps him on the head.

“It's nobody special. Just a friend. I swear!" he closes the matter, but he doesn't convince me.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about it." I whisper, complaining to the blonde at my side.

“Sorry, there was no time. Also, I didn't even know it could lead to anything.” he shrugs. I stare Luke, waiting him to continue, but he is easily distracted by the napkin holder. I slap his head like Mike. “Ouch! What was it?” he looks at me shocked.

“Tell me!” Luke turns to face me, rolling his eyes.

“Her name is Sophie. They met at a Fortnite stream. She beat him and he went to congratulate her on the match, so they started talking and apparently it’s hitting something.” Luke shrugs, finishing the story.

“This is so cute. I hope it works!” I see Michael laughing over Luke's shoulder. “Is she pretty?” I question.

“This is a dangerous question.” I look back at him, confused. "Is there a chance you slap me?" I laugh.

"No." I don't get why I would hit him for finding someone pretty.

“She is pretty!" I hit him. “Hey! You said I wouldn't be hitten.” he accuses me.

“Sorry, it's just funny.” I defend myself by laughing. Luke turns forward, annoyed. I wrap my arm around his, which were on the table and come closer, placing a kiss on his cheek. "Are you going to be mad at me?" I question laughing.

"And I can do it?" he turns to me. His eyes drop to my lips and mine to yours. It would be a perfect time for a kiss, but I don't feel comfortable with all these looks on us.

Hemmo seems to understand my internal battle and just leaves a kiss on my forehead. I open a grateful smile and once again guide my attention to the conversation between Noah and Brian.

After a couple of hours of eating and drinking. We started to spread out through space, forming several conversation circles. I was having a blast with everyone. We sing, dance and record videos that we'll definitely regret later.

After starting to eat, I stopped drinking alcohol, after all, trauma still reigns inside me. So I wouldn't feel like the only sober one at the party, Hemmings decided to join me, stopping drinking too.

Relieved, of course, is the word to describe this night with him. I thought it would be hard to look at it with everything I remembered, but it was so light and fun, I admit I freaked out over nothing. As usual!

All through dinner, I try not to pay too much attention to everyone's eyes on us. We simply could not do anything that someone just needed to die of love. Luke was amused, while I just wanted to sink into the ground.

Yes, I may have had a clue as to how much I feel about Luke, but I still want to take it easy. I want to be sure, and for that, I need to stop being afraid. I know he's been realizing how I've changed and I'm letting him get closer and closer.

Our kisses, touches and smiles. Everything is falling into place and the fact that he doesn't put pressure on me helps me a lot. I already totally trust him, it just makes stronger.

Considering it was easy to stay close to him, without letting the shame take me, I didn't pull him away for a second, because most of the time he pulled me along and I liked that. I like being close to him.

“One round. Just one round.” Jack pleads, hands clasped under his chest.

“No! I've had too much today.” Luke denies it again, making his friend fake a dramatic cry.

"You drank when you arrived. A beer and a shot of gin. That's nothing.”

“I'll drive later and I'm keeping Marnie company.” he squeezes me tighter to his chest.

"Can't you drink?" Jack looks at me confused.

“Of course I can, I just don't want to, you know, make a scene. Or something like that.” I shrug. Jack rolls his eyes, turning back to Luke.

“One round.” he begs, making me laugh.

The boys were preparing a round of Answer or Drink with 10 different types of drink. So, they played and still got drunk.

“No!” Luke responds with a laugh.

For a few seconds, I leave the two of them arguing and go to the table to get my coat. With the lack of alcohol, I start to feel the cold of the air conditioning. On my way to the table, a voice stops me.

“Look what a wonderful surprise.” I turn quickly, feeling all the blood freeze through my body. "What a coincidence, isn't it?" I watch his smirk, knowing what his presence there would do.

“What are you doing here, Stephen?” I take a breath deep, controlling the urge to fly at him. Just like I did with Pam.

It's the first time we've seen each other since the diary report and I couldn't feel more disgust and loathing.

“It's a public place, Lizzie, and don't worry, I didn't come chasing you. I'm with friends.” he points to a table. “I just came to say hello.”

“Don't call me Lizzie, you know I hate it and why don't you take your fake education and stick it in your…”

“What are you doing here?” Luke walks past me, coming face to face with Stephen. "I already told you to stay away from her."

Soon, all the boys approach, ready to intervene. I grab his arm, trying to keep him close to me.

“Let him.” I beg, not wanting it to explode in the middle of the restaurant.

“Calm down, Hemmings.” the name comes out acid and full of poison. “I just came to say hello to Lizzie.” he laughs, hands in his pockets. "Don't worry, I'm not kissing her."

I close my eyes, feeling that hit both of us. That's low, very low. Luke steps forward, taking me with him. Noah and Jack are already starting to put their hands between them. Ash, Mike and Calum begin to put their hands on their friend's shoulders, pulling him along.

“Do not worry. I'm not going to spend my time punching him. But I'll just say one thing, Stephen.” he uses the same acid tone to say his name. "In case you're still dumb enough not to understand. It’s over! What you and Marnie had is over! So stop coming after her, because she doesn't want anything to do with you. She is with me.”

His tone of voice and body postureme impress. I've never seen Luke like this, so nervous, holding back so he doesn't explode, the veins in his neck bulging, proving how much he's controlling himself. I tighten your arm more tightly around my body. I bring my hand down until it's entwined with his, deceptively hoping that it will calm him down and bring him back to me.

“Funny. Cause from what I heard, you guys broke up, didn't you? What? You couldn’t stood the cheat?” he laughs, like he's made a great joke.

I don't know if he intended to hit Luke again, but without realizing it the words hit me. My blood boils and the words written in my diary take shape in my mind. Damn imagination.

I let go of my hand, putting myself in front of Stephen, who takes a step back. His gaze, full of curiosity and mockery, fixes on me.

“That’s enough, Stephen! I don't care about you. Pretend I never called you, just like I was before the accident and disappear from my life. I know you cheated on me and I don't want this torment in my life anymore. Go away.” I let go of everything contained, trying not to fly off his neck.

"Are you really going to believe their bullshit?" Stephen crosses his arms.

“Nobody had to tell me. I remembered." I see his eyes lose their mocking sparkle and he lose confidence. It's a lie, but he don't need to know. “There are at least twenty people here and they all want to hit you, including me, who wouldn't mind breaking my cast on your head. So if you don't want to get out of here on a stretcher, get out!”

I take a step back, feeling my heart pound and trying my best to keep myself from crying. Luke's agitated breath pulses against my spine. I lean against him, feeling his hand intertwine with mine, squeezing it delicately. Amazing how I feel safer, just with that touch.

Stephen passes his eyes around everyone and walks away without saying anything else. When his body pulls away, I release all the air I didn't even know I was holding. The boys start telling us to go back to the table.

I turn, pulling Luke, who is still standing there, facing my ex, who is sitting at the table with a group of friends. He turns around, pulling me easily into his arms. His hands tighten around my waist and I feel him exhale against my neck, giving me goose bumps. I stroke the back of his neck, trying to calm him down and show him that everything is fine.

We walked back to the table, striving for the mood from before. Ashton orders his birthday cake and we ourselves lull into the music, excited, mocking Irwin. While we devoured the cake, no one broaches the subject and I thanks for that. I know Hemmings and I will probably talk about it, but I don't want to involve the guys in this.

Gossip reigns at the table again. The entire group is engaged in conversation about the most disastrous trips ever made, minus the blonde and me. I watch him with his jaw still set and his gaze filled with rage, fixed directly on Stephen, who is across the room, staring at me.

It's a cycle: Luke stares at Stephen, who stares at me, while I stare at Luke.

I feel terrible for making him go through all of this. My amnesia, our breakup, my ex's return. Lucas doesn't deserve any of this. I need to reward him, but how?

“Hey!” I whisper, resting my chin on his bicep, but he doesn't hear me. "I want to leave, will you take me?" I question, hoping to gain any sign of him.

He looks at me nonchalantly, then blinks back to reality. Luke stares at the bleached on the other side, wanting to see if he's still trying something. I drop a small kiss on his shoulder, gaining his attention again.

“Of course! Let's go?” I nod, getting up.

Nobody is opposed to our leaving, I believe as much because of what happened as because it was the two of us. We walked across the room hand in hand, and with me clutching his arm, just to make sure he didn't fly into someone.

But I need to remember that Luke is just as classy as I am. Not just for the fame or the spectacle it would be, but because he was brought up that way. Educated not to go into violence, even if there was someone on the other side who deserved to be slapped.

I'm scared by the frantic flashes that start to pop when they notice the two of us. I cling closer to Luke, who makes room for his car. The delay for the questions to start is just for them to reason that it was the two of us there, together, after announcing our break up.

I keep my head down, focused on his thumb moving up and down, stroking my skin. Luke opens the car door and I settle in, still feeling the flashbulbs burst above us.

With great difficulty, we got out of that sea of people. We remained silent until we reached the intersection of the main lane that led to my house.

“Do you want to go home?” he asks, softly.

I can't identify any feelings in your voice. He is neutral, indifferent. Apart from the isolated fact, this night has been amazing and I don't want it to end, not in this mood.

“No!” I turn in the seat, facing him. "Isn't there anywhere I'd love to go? Or that we both went a lot?” for the first time, I see a glint run through his eyes.

“Yeah! In fact, there are two.” he cracks a smile, causing me to smile too.

Luke takes the other path, heading to some place I couldn't even imagine. The subject comes up between us and so the mood softens. As we talk, I list a number of places I've always liked in Los Angeles, wanting to guess where it would take me.

We turn onto Wilshire Boulevard and I guess where we're going. Hemmo parks his car near the Urban Light and I look forward to getting out of the car.

Before we exit the vehicle, he pulls two caps from the glove compartment, giving me a dark gray one. I look at that accessory, wondering if it was always mine, if we always wore it when we went out.

“Why am I not impressed that this would be the first place?” I question, holding his hand.

By the time, the sculpture was a little empty, with only a few couples taking pictures. Luke and I went unnoticed, walking between those huge poles.

We walked around, with me admiring those lighted poles. I've always liked this sculpture, I've always found it romantic because so many people are proposed here, and I love the lighting.

“Oh no!” I push Luke, finding your phone pointed at me.

"This one got blurry." he laments, pointing again.

“Luke!” I exclaim laughing. I try not to scream so as not to draw attention to both of us.

“Sorry about my behavior at the restaurant.” Hemmings says after a while, surprising me. I lean against a pole, watching him.

“Why are you apologizing?” I frown. Luke leans against the same post, shrugging.

"I didn't mean to spoil your night." he answers.

“You didn't! If there is one responsible, it is him! Stephen knows he shouldn't have shown up there.” I comfort him.

His blue eyes meet mine. I take a step toward him, standing on tiptoe, reaching for his lips, leaving a simple kiss there. Without pulling away completely, I see a goofy smile appear on his face, which also appears on mine.

"What's our second place?" I whisper, next to him.

“My bed.” he lets go.

“Lucas!” I push him away, laughing again. His laugh is contagious. If he knew about the memories…

“Just kidding." Uh-hm… "Ready to get full of sand?" he asks, holding out his hand.

“Always!” I grabbed, leaning my head on his arm as we made our way to the car.

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