#can’t remember any details now but I swear I read something about it at one point | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

helenazbmrskai · 6 months ago

Text

Textbook Love (m) - KSJ

Title [Textbook Love] previously known as Mr Dream Writer!

Pairing [Best Friend’s Brother! Seokjin x Writer! Reader]

Genre [smut, angst, fluff, best friend’s brother AU, friends to lovers, slice of life]

Summary [Loving your best friend’s brother is forbidden so what is even more forbidden you might ask. It’s writing smut about him. Can you still remain friends after he discovers your secrets?]

Words [11,6k]

Warnings [sexual content: oral sex (f and m receiving), morning wood, sexual tension, subby jin, dom reader, teasing, blowjob, lots of kisses, jin comes in his pants, possessiveness, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie]

Rating [+18]

A/N: Hii! Some of you might know this story (it was a series previously) but I made it into a one-shot and finished it also made some changes in the plot. Now that Jinie is home I wanted to write something about him. Please enjoy!

Masterlist //

Kim Seokjin. Jin or Jinie shortened for friends and family. Your bestest friend’s older brother and your current roommate of five months, nine hours and – a brief look at your wristwatch – twenty minutes.

He’s tall with shoulders as wide as the ocean. Could take over the model industry at any moment. But also born with a heart of gold.

He’s like the warmest of summers, the orange hues of the sunset. Shines so bright in the darkness of the night sky that you’re afraid of getting hurt if you dare to approach him carelessly but if he’s the sun then you’re the moon. The opposite that, unfortunately – doesn’t attract.

If it wasn’t obvious from the intro you put together, remind you, to read this from the first page of your diary you’re here to spell this out. You have the biggest crush on Seokjin. Ever since he caught you three years ago when you almost fell off of the cruise boat on a family vacation while mindlessly looking at the water below. You could still remember how it felt to be inside his arms. How quick your heart raced not just because of the adrenalin but by being held by him. Your back was pressed against his chest and his fingers dug into your waist to keep both of your balance. His breath hit the shell of your ear when he asked in his sexy voice are you alright. Your heart was beating so fast for him. You swear at that exact moment his mom knew what you were thinking.

You childishly filled several notebooks with his name on every page with little pink hearts and his handsome face became a reoccurring figure in your dreams at night. It’s cliché to fall in love with your best friend’s brother and sadly it’s not how the romance novels you like to read portray it where you fall but he falls harder. No –

That daydream ending doesn’t come near you at all.

So you write your own books instead where you magically fall in love with Jin and he reciprocate your feelings.

Jin never had a girlfriend after he ended things with his last one three years ago. He mostly dealt with his heartbreak by the time you started developing your feelings for him but the timing never seemed to be right to tell him how you feel. It felt like you were longing for someone’s love and attention whose heart isn’t available yet.

You did not dare to speak up.

Sometimes you can’t help it. Hope flares in your heart. His intentions are pure but you can’t help but put more meaning behind it as you see fit. You could chat about your days during dinner and sometimes his thumb wipes some sauce from your lips and your heart flutters. He asks if you want to hang out with the boys at the bar and his hand is on the small of your back guiding you to the table between busybodies. You shiver from the cold wind at night on your way home from bowling with your friends and his jacket is neatly laid on your shoulders a moment later. Small details that probably mean nothing to him whilst it’s everything to you.

There are times when you could picture yourself next to him, holding his hand and kissing his lips. You try not to let your delusions surface often. It’s too draining mentally. Left with disappointment in the end when he goes on a date or brings someone home for the night. The illusion shatters.

The brightest light burns out the fastest as they say. One day you’re filled with hope other times reality comes to you like a trainwreck. Some things are not meant to be and it’s probably you and Jin. Blah. Blah. Blah. You could talk about this forever if you had the time.

You spend most days outlining your plot holed up in your room. Keyboard smashing as you fly over the estimated word count.

Who knew that unrequited love could give you so much inspiration?

Writing and editing until your eyes dry out and your nose bleeds are how masterpieces are created in your opinion.

Living between the pages of your book certainly feels better sometimes than real life. Caffeine and food are your new lover at least they can’t hurt your feelings. You can hear the front door open and close from a distance when the apartment is enveloped in complete silence. It’s midday. He’s usually nose-deep in his work by now. If not he helps old ladies to cross the street or save kittens that got stuck on high trees aka living the life of an angel. So what is he doing at home? You hear keys clinking and a heavy sigh followed by sluggish footsteps.

Your typing ceases as your fingers hover over your keyboard as you listen. Should you greet him? He could be having a hard day.

Seokjin’s a polite and friendly roommate as you got to know him. He treats you like a good little sister. You don’t like it but you don’t have the confidence to raise questions about it. He’s a homebody just like you but likes his hangouts every-now-and-then. He’s neat and domestic honestly, the best roommate you had so far. A popular restaurant owner downtown who is not only sought out because of his looks but also because of his excellent cuisine. His wide shoulders carry a lot of pressure to do well with his business.

He most likely comes home from visiting the bank. He decided recently that he wanted to make the place more modern and renovate the kitchen and interior. You heard that getting a loan seems to be a bit tricky.

Your mouth waters at the sight of Jin’s broad shoulders in a fitting white t-shirt and some baggy pants. You like his day clothes but you like them especially when he goes casual showing true boyfriend material looks with soft hoodies and plain t-shirts. Even when he comes home smelling like food and sweat you find him attractive. His eye smile melts you into a puddle especially when he catches you making his favourite comfort food after a long day at work.

You ask him today if he needs it and he nods already feeling better after the mention of his favourite muffins. You shoo him out of the kitchen while you start preparing to make the butter and he goes to take a shower before he returns to your side. You don’t need to ask if he had a bad day.

”You always know what I need. It smells amazing Y/N. Can I get a taste?” You try to keep your composure when Seokjin throws his arms around your body engulfing you in a back hug that brings the scent of his body wash to waft into your nose. Your heart is beating loudly in your throat and you’re hoping that the sound doesn’t reach his ears with his chest tightly pressed to you and his chin lying on top of your head. You want to melt into him – melt into the lazy circles he leaves with his thumb on your hipbone absentmindedly but you don’t let yourself completely relax afraid if you show how much you like it you will be too obvious.

The tip of his nose kisses the side of your cheek as you slightly turn in his direction holding up your spoon for a taste just like he asked.

”Hmn. Tastes good.”

Your entire body freezes up when he moans into your ear (fucking moans) and your panties dampen by the sheer sinfulness of the sound. Fuck. He’s going to be the death of you.

”S-Set the table, will you?” You hope he doesn’t put two and two together by the tremor in your voice. You’re his baby sister’s best friend there’s no way he would look at you the same way as you are looking at him.

”Sure. Finish up buttercup.” He squeezes you for a moment longer before he lets you go and steps back. Laughing at his own joke. The cold air that rushes back now that his body heat is gone makes an involuntary shiver run down your spine. He doesn’t notice any of your odd reactions. Thankfully. Seokjin skips into the living room like normal carrying two plates with him and forks.

The muffins are almost done.

”My publisher is hellbent on making me write about love. I was thinking of showing how friendship is important in my next book. You know have a somewhat action-based fantasy story as the protagonists meet with strangers and become friends along the way while going through hardships together, something similar like that. I don’t want to write a cute love story when I haven’t got a real boyfriend in ages. I know it wouldn’t be genuine and I would hate to let my readers down.”

At first, you asked about how his day was going but somewhere along the way he asked about your visit to your publishing company today and you had to rent about it. Jin listens to you carefully even though he has his own problems to solve. You don’t try to dwell on it long since you want to comfort him instead.

You know how passionate he is about his job and how he loves cooking and now he’s placed in a tough situation. You don’t have the time to worry about your nonexistent love life.

”You could never let your readers down Y/N. They love your books.” You place your fork down and reach over to grasp his hand in yours impulsively but Jin doesn’t mind. You want to intertwine your fingers so badly with his but you hold back he’s not yours to hold. You hate to see him upset like this. The snack is long forgotten as you both stop eating.

”You can still do it.” You’re confused for only a second before Jin elaborates. One hand goes over his hair ruffling the locks and making a mess.

”You could always try and meet someone.” Okay. Ouch. It’s true but hearing it from him is even more painful than the normal jabs you get from your best friend regarding this matter.

”I don’t need a boyfriend to write about love.” Because I’m in love with you.

You don’t offer him much more after that and he lets it go after a while when he realises you won’t budge on the subject. This is not a topic that you want to discuss with him either.

You’re working on something but that’s not how you pay your bills. Simple romance doesn’t pay as much. It’s written porn you write to your secret fanbase that Jin doesn’t know about on a site. You have a secret job that only your best friend knows about. You write smut on the internet and you have plenty of followers who tip you generously for your thirst posts.

Your popularity is all thanks to the built-up sexual tension because you imagine Jin doing those things to you. It will never happen in real life so you write it down and give the guy a fake name. Simple as that. You started your blog to keep your fantasies in one place but people seemed to love your filthy ideas so you kept going under a fake name.

Once you both eat your fill of the sweets you carry the plates to the kitchen. Jin insists on washing the dishes since you baked so you just stand by the side. Jin hums a catchy tune whilst cleaning and rinsing the plates. You always liked listening to his voice. He could be a singer he said he might be in his next life and you both shared a laugh. It’s domestic talking and doing chores together around the house.

This is how everything has always been.

“Your back is arching one hand is placed on your left thigh firmly to keep you open as two thick fingers enter you. You moan and struggle as Jinie’s pillowy lips wrap around your clit his hum travels to your core as he tastes you.

You gush around his fingers that pump in and out of your puffy folds. You want to see him devour you so you keep yourself open with two of your fingers in a v shape. He licks you from top to bottom looking straight into your eyes. He removes his fingers in favour to circle his tongue around your hole and his nose gently rubs on your clit with each lick and swipe of his eager tongue.

”R-Right there. I’m cumming.” Your hands hold onto his hair pulling desperately at the strands when Jin reintroduces his two digits and his lips travel up to suck on your clit. If he keeps this up you’re going to cum on his face. His hips rut against the mattress and his moans add to the pleasure of his tongue mapping out your swollen and sensitive folds. You sound so hot. ”Jin. Jinie. Please don’t stop...” You pull him closer desperately clawing at his wide shoulders as you nearly suffocate him with your thighs. Close. So close. Need a moment and –“

”What are you doing?” You jump in your seat when you hear Seokjin call out to you. You look over your shoulder pausing your writing to take in his form leaning against your doorframe.

You shut your laptop in reflex when he steps closer to see you better, you don’t want him to see what you were up to. You’re self-conscious even if writing smut is not your literal job. You sit with your legs crossed wound up from your words and imagination. He had to show up right before you wrote the climax. You haven’t heard him knock either. Did you get so lost in your head that you did not hear him at all?

”Writing.” You answer ominously.

Jin hums and takes a seat at the edge of your bed close to your little station. He’s not suspecting you at all. You roll around with your chair and face your handsome roommate.

Usually, he doesn’t come and visit you at night. Jin likes to keep to himself when sad to not bring down anyone’s mood so you’re surprised he decided to seek you out. It manages to put you in a good mood. He trusts you enough to show you his vulnerable side.

He looks tired.

You yelp when he rolls you closer to him by grabbing the armrest of your chair his head lands on your meaty thighs so close to your core that it involuntarily throbs. It was just moments ago that you wrote about him feasting on your pussy and this position is not helping to calm down your racing heart.

Jin has no idea what he’s doing to you and you feel bad for ruining the moment with your dirty mind. He’s here to seek your comfort and you just think about yourself. You’re so selfish.

Your fingers card through his hair and he sighs in contentment. ”Can I sleep here tonight?” You almost didn’t catch the words that he murmured into your skin.

”You can.” Your voice is soft as if you’re afraid to disturb the moment. Jin holds you by the waist and buries his nose into your lower stomach. He’s been touch-starved and while he knows it’s not right to touch you like this he can’t help himself. He needs the comfort of your body after a long day. He longs to feel someone’s body heat next to him. You don’t push him away – you never do so he doesn’t stop even when he spoons you from behind lying on your bed listening to each other’s breathing.

You dream of his lips and wide shoulders.

It’s so hot you can feel sweat collecting at your spine and brows as something warm is clinging to you from behind. You can’t get away from the heat something is stopping you from wriggling out of its hold. Your dream-dazed mind needs a minute to realise what’s pressed against you and emits so much heat and when you do your entire body freezes mid struggle.

Right.

You let Jin into your bed last night. He’s like a furnace. You tilt your head backwards careful to not accidentally wake him up whilst you try to make a mental plan in your head on how to get out of this position. His hands are placed dangerously down on your body holding you by the hips and when he squeezes you suddenly you jump a little getting pressed on him more in the process.

Your t-shirt got rolled up during the night till your stomach was not covered by the fabric anymore. His hands are in direct contact with your skin and you can feel his warm touch cage you against him.

You’re outright panicking when you can feel his boner press into your buttcheeks. Sleepiness is long gone from your eyes.

This sounds like the beginning of one of your cheap smut stories. But you swear it’s not. You vaguely remember writing one about two people sharing one bed one of your favourite tropes to write about when they got stranded at a motel because of the weather. Your protagonist woke up just like you with a morning wood rutting against her whilst the boy was still living in a wet dream.

Jin isn’t moving though. He’s just pressed against you. His breath is not laboured at all as relaxed puffs of air hit your earlobe. He’s deeply asleep but his body is certainly awake and ready to nut. If you would be one of your characters then you might have the courage to press back and grind your ass into his cock. He feels big against your rearside even if he’s tucked away in his underwear.

You really want to move but you know you shouldn’t. If he accidentally wakes up you will be in big trouble.

Your attempts to escape are futile. Jin doesn’t let you go out of his hold and your struggle only makes him pull you closer and create some friction between your bodies. You let out a loud gasp when his cock accidentally rubs harder against your ass as you try to get away.

You settle down and wait. He’s probably waking up. His brows are furrowed and his mouth is jutted in a pout.

You let out a sigh of relief when he doesn’t. Looks like he got tired of you trying to get away and disturbing his sleep because he lets you go and turn to the other side of the bed. One of his hands is tucked under his head as he sleeps.

You shouldn’t feel as disappointed as you do when you get up and leave the room to get ready for the day.

You would have loved to feel him rub one out. You would have gladly let him use you but it’s for the best that nothing happened in the end. You leave the house early that morning. You needed some space to calm down and you had to go somewhere anyway. It’s ridiculous how worked up you got just because you felt Jin’s cock against your ass.

What’s even more concerning is that you have no difficulty meeting up with his sister and having some breakfast together.

If she knew what kind of thoughts you have about his older brother. She would certainly kill you but you try to keep these thoughts at the back of your mind for now as you focus on your important conversation. You shoot down another one of her blind date offers as usual at this point saying no is like a reflex to you.

”You like someone else, don’t you?” Your grip on your mug tightens and you look up at her like a deer caught in headlights after listening to her sudden question. At that moment you knew that you fucked up.

”I knew it! Who is it? Do I know him? Did you ask him out yet?” You avoid making eye contact with her as she rambles on and on about your mysterious love interest.

It’s your brother. Yes, you do know him. No, I don’t have to courage to ask him out and I don’t think I ever will.

You answer her in your head but decide against saying any of that out loud.

Instead, you say something even worse for her imagination to run wild: ”It’s complicated.”

”Is it a married man? I promise I will never judge you. You can tell me.” You gasp in horror when she starts speculating, giving you that look again that you haven’t seen since college when you had that crush on that jock from the swim team senior year. They were wet and hot in your defence every woman’s weakness. Everyone who tells otherwise is a liar.

Her hand finds yours on top of the table to console you but you pull away with a disapproving look.

”Oh my god. That’s not it!” You pick up some fries to shove into her mouth before she can speak more nonsense.

It’s annoying how she tries to nitpick everything you say just because you said it’s complicated it doesn’t mean it has to involve a married man or a sugar daddy! It could be worse than listening to her trying to figure out your mystery crush. At least she has no idea it’s his brother that you have secret feelings for. You shudder just by thinking of this morning with his dick wedged in between your buttcheeks.

It’s futile to think about the what-ifs. Nothing would have changed if you decided to stay or not a little longer. You just saved yourself from some awkward conversation where you would be friend-zoned or worse, sister zoned! You’re way past the point of feeling guilty about thinking about Jin whilst you’re with your best friend. You’re not concerned as you get lost in your head. You never really breached the topic with her but you know she wouldn’t be thrilled for you to have the hots for his brother. It’s stupid but her reaction when one of your friends brought up you dating him in the future is still a sore spot. Them. Together? Yikes. Childish, you know it but it still affects you more than you would like to admit. Not that Seokjin would ever return your feelings.

”Are you excited about our trip?” Glad for the change in the subject you let out a relieved chuckle. Genuine excitement showing on your face.

Of course, you are excited!

It’s been ages since you went to Jeju except for that one family vacation and this time it will be just you the girls and the boys – no parental supervision. You yourselves are grownups. Just friends on a summer trip. Everyone has been busy and working hard so some time to unwind will do some good for all of you. It’s also nostalgic as the first roots of your affection towards Jin bloomed on the Island as well. You’re excited to go back now that you’re all mature.

The problems you had back then seem to be minor things compared to what adult life rolls your way as a challenge. You share some excited chatter about the resort she got her hands on. You heard it’s quite spectacular and has a beautiful view of the ocean. You collect your trays when you’re done and head to the mall to buy some bikinis for the trip.

Time always flies by when you’re together and you step into your shared apartment with Jin in the late afternoon with a heart less heavy.

It’s still one of the favourite parts of your day. When you can smell the freshly made food and be greeted by Jin’s smile as he asks you to join him in the kitchen. You move in sync preparing the dishes seamlessly as you know what the other wants. You cooked together so many times but your heart still flutters when he prefers your help in the kitchen even at gatherings.

”You left early this morning.” The knife in your hand halts for a moment but you regain your composure rather quickly. You keep cutting the vegetables in relative silence as you try to come up with what to say and pour the cut pieces into a frying pan to stirfry, acting busy. You didn’t think he would comment about your sudden disappearance. Did he miss you? Was he disappointed when he didn’t find you in his arms anymore? Or. Is he testing the waters? He probably woke up with a boner and was wondering if he made you uncomfortable but doesn’t want to create an awkward situation by asking you outright. Right? That’s probably it-

”I was just getting ready for the trip tomorrow. Jiah and I went shopping. We didn’t have anything to wear to the beach.”

Seokjin acknowledges your words with a small hum as he’s focused on marinating the beef sprinkling it with various spices.

”Can’t wait to see you in it.” His smile is innocent and his intentions are probably as pure as snow so why are you blushing so hard? You and Jin saw each other in swimwear and went to the beach with mutual friends before but your approach the previous years was more cute than sexy. You don’t know what possessed you to go all out this year but Jiah whistled when you came out of the changing room. She said whoever your secret crush is he’ll probably go blind from your beauty so you’re counting on that.

***

”Hey! Nice of you two to finally join us.” You completely ignore Jimin’s jab at how late you are when you get to the airport. Jin rolling both of your suitcases. You don’t offer an answer; you’re all used to his teasing.

Your eyes are only halfway open when you lean on your best friend’s shoulder to support your weight. You’re not a morning person it took a lot of persuasion from Seokjin to get you out of bed.

Your earlier entrance made some of your friends suspiciously giggle and talk in hushed whispers. The fan club – as they like to call themselves. They have been shipping you with Jin since the first arrangements that you become roommates and while you show your disdain every time you secretly love the attention put on you two.

”Cute.” Hanma giggles when she saw you holding onto Jin’s shirt following him in.

He offered you the edge of his shirt to hold onto in hopes that you two won’t separate as you try to make your way to the guys inside the busy airport. He could see that you were still half asleep and he was afraid of losing sight of you in such a big place. He gave you occasional glances and slowed down his steps to match his pace with you.

He never fails to make your heart flutter with sweet gestures like this. He helps you with your luggage and carries your passports to show at the gates. Some might confuse him to be your boyfriend – Jin is naturally nice so always corrects the people politely but your heart sinks every time he smooths over the mistakes of other people.

You’re surprised that he choose the seat next to you and not one of the guys, beating your best friend to it. They played a childish game of rock paper scissors to decide who will sit next to you and in the end, Jin won.

You try to ignore the butterflies when he smiles so widely at you. You live together so you grew naturally closer – at first, you were surprised how people person he was. He was rooming with Yoongi for a long time but when he decided to take a further step in his relationship and move in together with his sweetheart, Jin had to look for another place and your roommate conveniently moved out not that long ago. You always wondered if it was fate. It seemed like a dream and most of the time it was.

You cook together and watch tv. A lot. He coaxes you out of your room to do things like watching his favourite dramas or just hang out and go bar-hopping with his friends. Simple things like that. Many pros but there are cons as well.

You think that you mastered your poker face when he occasionally brings girls home for the night. You never see them again but the fact that the walls are thin and you hear them moan his name makes the ugly head of jealousy roar to life.

You want to be the only girl that moans his name. Not only moan but – hold his hand, laugh at his dad jokes and make him feel good until his toes curl and he loses his mind. You want to be his girlfriend but it’s wishful thinking on your part.

He’s eight years older than you. He never dated younger girls and his last girlfriend was five years older than him. He likes mature older women – not girls like you in their early twenties.

”You’re always together Jin! Don’t think you can steal my best friend from me! She’s mine!” Jiah whines when she loses at the game and you have half the heart to make a peace offering when Jin pokes his tongue at his sister childishly.

Right. Mature.

”Enough. Both of you. I’m not anyone’s possession. Just sit next to each other. Final decision.” They both try to protest but you’re already out of your seat.

You find one empty so you make your way to the back and sit next to Namjoon. Finally some quiet and peace.

He gives you a sympathetic smile and pats the seat next to him for you to take and you do – gladly.

You enjoy his company and he’s been always easy to talk to. He let you cry on his shoulder when you broke up with your first boyfriend that no one knows about. It was messy. It was a secret relationship – not that you two dated for long.

Namjoon is the only one who knows about your feelings and to this day he kept your secret. You have a special place in your heart for Namjoon. You both confide in each other to tell things that you’re not comfortable telling to other people. You’re not the only one with a secret as he had the biggest crush on your best friend for years.

She’s oblivious to his attraction and it’s clear that Namjoon always has her best interest at heart. He doesn’t want to reveal himself in front of her and put her in a weird situation. The things he does for her are subtle – if you didn’t know of his feelings you would probably never pick up on the little things.

In a way, you’re both sitting in the same boat. There are nights when you two secretly hang out and talk about your crushes. It always feels good to ramble about them and get it all out so it’s a tradition by now.

”You can rest on my shoulder.” You hum in contentment his voice is nice and soothing it doesn’t take long for you to go back to sleep resting against Namjoon’s shoulders as he reads his book in silence.

Jin and Jiah bicker for a while – pointing fingers at each other about who was the cause of you to just leave them but quiet down when Namjoon scolds them and emphasises that you have already fallen back to sleep.

You and Namjoon made a promise not to try and get each other’s hopes up but that glance Seokjin shoots in your direction make him think. He’s been pretty much glued to your side and he knows for a fact, that he didn’t have a woman over for a while now. You always complain about them being loud but you didn’t for the last couple of weeks.

Namjoon looks at Seokjin’s approaching form suspiciously.

”Relax I won’t disturb her but she gets cranky when she’s not resting on her favourite pillow.” He lets him cradle your face between his palm softly and carefully place the pillow behind your head.

Jin gets a few locks of hair out of your face and places them behind your ears and a smile makes its way onto his features unknowingly.

”Tell me what you want.” You play with the hem of his shorts. Strong thighs quivering under your careful fingers. Your mouth is stretched into a vixen smile – moan softly when you picture a big fat cock to stretch it out instead.

”W- We shouldn't.” You lightly scoff. His mouth forms the words but his hips still jut when you ghost your touch over his prominent bulge. He wants you. You can feel it. Your gaze is feral as you look at Jin like a meal on a silver platter. He won’t stop you from touching him his mind keeps telling him to stop you but he won’t because deep down he doesn’t want to.

He wants you to whip out his dick and roll your tongue over his cockhead. Taste the precum of his desire. His eyes are blown out and his chest is moving up and down rapidly at the sight of you on your knees between his spread legs. Despite the position, he’s the one that’s wrapped around your pinky finger.

You know that look too well as you caress his clothed thighs running your fingers up and down in a soothing manner. He’s overthinking again.

”I can stop if it’s too much. I want you to feel good Seokjinnie. You don’t have to feel guilty.” Jin jumps when your head rests on his left thigh your breathing is shallow and calm – nothing like the hammering of his chest. His heart works overtime to pump his blood through his veins directing the flow to his cock rather than his head to think.

”N- No. Please don’t stop.” He catches your wrist when you give him some distance. Thinking that he’s pulling out of the situation. It prompted him to finally answer – and it’s truthful. He doesn’t want to stop in spite of everything in him screaming that he should.

His feelings are conflicted but his fingers weave themselves into your messy hair and gather it into a low ponytail. You feel like the forbidden fruit tempting him and leading him to his downfall. It’s only a thin wall separating your bodies from his sister sleeping next door. Unbestowned to the sinful actions of the two most important people in her life. What kind of brother he is to want his sister’s best friend’s mouth on his cock?

His eyes focus on the object of his desire, your lips. Pink and swollen from biting. Your tongue pokes out to slick your lips to glisten and make them more inviting.

”Tell me that you want it. If you don’t you have to tell me now.” Of course, the last thing you want is to stop but this is not just about you. It’s better to stop now than for him later to realise it was a mistake on his part. You wouldn’t be able to handle that if he did.

”I shouldn’t- I really shouldn’t want your mouth wrapped around my cock but Y-Y/N I w-want it so bad.” You hum grazing his inner thighs with your nails.

”You can have it. My mouth is yours to take.” Seokjin blushes but nods. His fingers shake as he undoes his pants and gets his underwear down his legs showing you his hard cock. It’s dripping the pink tip is swollen as beads of precum bubble out from the small slit. You put your mouth around the round head and taste him for the first time –

”Y/N. What is this?” His tone makes you wince. He never talked to you like this before – with anger laced with his tone. His ears are red and his eyes are distant when you keep looking at the floor avidly avoiding his harsh stare that pokes a hole into your head – hoping to gain some confidence to reply. This is your worst nightmare.

Him finding out – nonetheless this way. His reaction twists the knife in your heart even more.

You look over the words on your open computer. Your heart seizes in panic as you look between the hard lines of his forehead and your filthy words – practically telling him everything that you tried so hard to keep as a secret for years.

��I’m s-sorry.” Don’t know what else to say. Seokjin nearly growls and runs his hands through his hair as if it would decrease the humiliation of his finding. His thoughts are all over the place. The considerate boy is long gone when his harsh words pierce through your bleeding heart.

”What are you sorry for huh? Getting caught or writing porn with my name?” You flinch when he drops the laptop on the bed with a loud thud. He was never violent. The thought of you thinking about him that way disgusts him this much?

You’re lost for words as Jin walks up and down in your room trying to calm down. The tears you tried to keep at bay fall freely when his words hit you.

His frantic movements stop when he hears a pained sniff. His glare softens when he sees you cry and he bawls his hands in a fist to keep himself rooted to his spot. His first instinct is to comfort you but he’s still distraught by everything he read.

”Delete it.” This is the only thing he says before he slams the door behind him.

Your soft cries fill the room. He hates you. You should have been more careful. Shouldn’t let him be in your room when you weren’t around. It’s too late for that now. He hates you – he’s probably disgusted by you.

After he stormed out of your room that night you barely have seen him. It certainly put a damper on your vacation plans but you can’t blame him for reacting that way. It makes you sad that he opted for avoiding you all together rather than talking to you about it.

You tried to apologise but he didn’t take too kindly at you for visiting his room so you gave him the time alone that he needed. Namjoon is the only one who you told what happened and he offered to knock some sense into the boy but you pulled him back by his hands to leave it.

Namjoon is a good friend to the both of you and he could understand his reaction but the way he talked to you was not justified.

He kept by your side during the whole trip and you were glad to have some distraction from everything that happened. You were existing in the same room during the activities but he never even glanced your way or addressed you.

It felt like you were invisible that the friendship you built just crumbled like that.

You dreaded the day that you had to go back to your apartment. You tried to hide your disappointment when he asked Jimin to let him crash at his place for a while. You know he will move out sooner or later. It felt like your friendship was unsalvageable at this point.

You even told Jiah that you like his brother. She kept asking about what happened between the two of you. The tension could be cut with a knife and everyone noticed how the two of you drifted apart when before you were almost inseparable. She was shocked and you expected her to yell at you too but to your surprise, she took the news quite alright.

You had a heartfelt conversation while you both cried your eyes out. It felt good to tell her everything despite the situation. Whenever you thought about Jin your heart squeezed painfully. You haven’t seen him for at least a month now. Legally you still shared the apartment but you know he’s been looking for another place to stay. The last time he looked at you was when you were in your room after he discovered your erotic story about him. Jiah was your rock – and Namjoon too.

You could tell that they grew closer because of you, they talked more and hung out without you. You were hopeful that at least they got together in the end. They took really good care of you and you were really grateful for them to help you feel better.

You announced your indefinite hiatus on your blog and while some were noisy the majority of them wished you good luck with whatever you were struggling with. You were thinking of deleting the whole thing.

You buried yourself under work and continued on your real projects.

You were in the kitchen having some late-night snack. What you didn’t expect is for Jin to show up one day at your door he kept fidgeting with his key as he tried to coordinate his movements and slide the key into the hole.

He was flat-out drunk. His eyes are glazed over in a drunkness hue and he is swooning like he could trip over his feet at any given moment. You haven’t seen him act like this ever – he’s completely shit-faced. You want to give him space knowing that the last thing he wants is to see your face so you abandon your snack on the counter and try to leave but he doesn’t let you get too far.

Your eyes grow wide when he pushes you against your door before you could slip away into the comfort of your room. His breath smelled like he consumed a lot of whiskey on his night out and you don’t think your assumption is too far-fetched from the truth.

It breaks your heart that he has to be this drunk to even face you.

”You’re drunk. You should lay down.” You place both hands on his stomach to keep some distance as he sways.

It wasn’t the most coherent but you could get the gist of his words that would awfully sound like: ”I bw-read your blog. All offfff it.”

You look away in shame – ready to hear him yell again but he doesn’t. He forces you to face him with a firm grip on your chin.

”It bwans’t jsut sex. You swaid you likeed me.”

You try to push him away and get some space between you but he doesn’t relent. Who would have thought that he’s so strong while drunk?

”This is something we should discuss while you’re sober. We will talk in the morning. As, if you’ll be still here.” It was pointless to mask your hurt and he could see that. You looked hurt and thin like you were not eating properly.

The empty fridge seems to be a big hint of that. His head pounds from the headache but he could remember everything from yesterday.

You took care of him. Helped him lay down on his bed and even got him painkillers with a glass of water to sit on his bedside table for when he woke up.

He didn’t think about you at all or your feelings until Namjoon beat some sense into him. It was too much and too sudden. He was fighting these feelings and discovering your dirty little secret just made it all blow up in his face.

He was too deep to think about how his words affected you. He knows it won’t be enough to earn your forgiveness but it should be a good start. He makes some breakfast and waits for you patiently to appear.

You come out, blinking away the sleepiness when the view makes you stop in your tracks. You rub your eyes again in case you’re still somehow dreaming.

Seokjin. Standing in the kitchen, cooking. It’s something you haven’t witnessed for the last few weeks – it feels foreign to see him flip a honey brown pancake on their other side. To be truthful after he left you haven’t felt like cooking (it reminded you too much of him – you used to do all the cooking together and it felt wrong to do it all alone) mostly living off of fast food or eat at your friend’s place if they offered.

”You’re here.” It comes out as if you’re in disbelief and – you are. Seokjin was drunk yesterday. You thought it was a mistake that he came home and would surely leave in the morning before you woke up.

You didn’t think he would be here.

”Yes. Are- are you hungry?” He asks carefully as if you’re a wounded animal that could flee at any given moment. He could barely look you in the eye and it hurts. It’s never been so awkward before and you hate that you made it this way. The tension surrounding your body has a strong grip on your throat. It’s your fault that things went South in your friendship. You don’t even know it could be fixed anymore.

”S- Sure.” You take tentative steps into the kitchen and sit down opposite him. He places two servings down and you eat silently with a gaping hole in between. Usually, you would sit close to each other but not this time, there’s no easy banter or laughing either. It’s all so still.

”I- uh so, uh. Fuck, it’s hard. I guess what I want to say is that. I’m sorry.” Jin places his hand on top of yours – you two always used touch as a comforting gesture – but you pull your hand away without thinking. You think you saw hurt flash in his eyes but he looked undeterred in making up with you.

”It’s ok. I should be the one who says sorry. It was improper of me and it will never happen again.” You look away, your moves are mechanical as you slice into your pancakes. You’re not hungry and the food tastes like paper in your mouth. You miss the dejected look on his face while you focus on your plate.

He should have known it won’t be that easy to get things back to where it was.

He hates that you look so defensive and uncomfortable being in the same room. He deserves this reaction. Namjoon’s words ring in his ears like a mantra.

The way he acted and yelled at you was so unlike him. He said things that night that he didn’t mean and regretted. Namjoon told him how it wore you down while he was confused with his feelings – he hurt you badly. You can’t even look at him now and he hates that he did this to you. He misses your smile.

”No, it’s not okay. I’m sorry for yelling I didn’t mean the things I said I regretted saying them the minute I did. I read your blog and- y-you said that you like me. Is it, true?” If you didn’t know better you might think he looks hopeful. But what he said stuck in your head on repeat. [What are you sorry for huh? Getting caught or writing porn with my name?]

”I did.” You settle for that answer for now. Seeing him again and how painful it is to even be in the same house opened your eyes to how wrong it was for you to fantasise about him. You will make yourself stop liking him. This is the only way you can still salvage your friendship. He’s clearly not interested based on his reaction and you couldn’t blame him.

”The past tense means? You- don’t like me anymore? I-Is it because of what I said?” Jin seems nervous and somewhat, disappointed in your answer but you don’t let your mind linger on that for long. This is for the best.

”I want us to forget about this. This is how we could be friends again.”

You get up and leave but there was unmistakable sadness carried in your eyes. Your pancake is nearly untouched you only took two bites and Jin slumps in his chair sighing. He wanted this conversation to play out differently.

It took too long for him to figure out his own feelings. It looks like he’s always a beat late when it comes to you.

Jin cringes when he thinks about your conversation that happened half a day ago.

”That sucks man but at least now you’re on speaking terms again.” Seokjin sighs. He half-heartedly agrees because he did move back into your shared apartment but it’s far from how it used to be. You’re distant. No more cooking together you don’t even watch shows together on the couch after your late-night writing sessions.

If he’s not going out of his way to see you he bet you wouldn’t even leave your room. You’re only a door away but it feels like there are oceans between you now.

You said you’re working on your book and he knows it’s the truth because your blog is deleted by the time he tries to check it out again.

You meant it when you said you want to forget about the last couple of weeks and while you pretend it never happened – it’s clear that it still bothers you. You’re avoiding him. Even in friend outings, you’re barely speaking to him and choose the seat farthest away from him. Everyone noticed the shift in your dynamics but no one dares to comment on it. Namjoon advised him to give you time, you’re probably just feeling embarrassed and he couldn’t blame you when he reacted that way. The things he said – he wishes he could just turn back time and take a deep breath instead.

He felt betrayed when he first saw your writing and he felt embarrassed that people all over the world read about sexual things with his name in it he replayed what happened at the hotel numerous times and he regrets everything.

Ever since he played with the thought of you and him in the same sentence it became clearer that he could actually picture it happening. Too bad he’s weeks late and now it seems like you will never open up to him again.

”Barely. She’s still avoiding me Joon.” Namjoon finds his older friend’s pout comical.

”Clearly since you’re out drinking again. You know that if you get drunk it doesn’t mean the situation will solve itself.” Of course, he knows it. Jin annoyingly sighs again and Namjoon has to bite his lip to not tell him to stop whining and instead do something about it.

”I’m just so lost about what to do.” Jin swirls his drink looking intently at the bottom of his whiskey in case the key to his problems will be somehow buried under the fifth cup of alcohol.

”Well – did you try to apologise?” Jin snorts. Namjoon could barely hear his answer murmured under his nose. ”Of course, I apologised that was the first thing that I did.”

”Did you explain to her why you reacted that way? That you given it a thought and you would like to try something if she’s still interested? Did you tell her that?”

It’s the following silence that has Namjoon shake his head in disbelief. For the first time since he arrived, Jin looks up from his drink and looks kinda panicked.

”S- She didn’t let me explain.” Even he knows it’s a poor excuse. The truth is he chickened out. You used the past tense as ‘liked you’ and he felt too afraid to say anything. He was confused for the longest time if what he started feeling after you ignored him was genuine or if he was just missing the normality you two always had. He’s afraid that things will change drastically and he would hate to lose you.

He’s still not a hundred percent sure but he probably never will be all he could do is try and see what happens. That’s life. There’s no guide on how to live your life just like there’s no guide to tell him if things would work out between you two. Things are already not normal between you. Even if he hates to admit it he wouldn’t be able to go back to just being your friend anymore after knowing the truth about your feelings. He just needs to take a leap of fate and hope for the best. It’s also easier said than done.

”You need to try until she listens. She deserves an explanation Jin. As I see it she probably avoids you so you couldn’t reject her again. She doesn’t know that you’re not trying to do that she only goes with the assumptions your little outburst created in her head. The only way you can fix your relationship with her is, to be honest. Tell her how you feel. She’s not a mind reader you have to spell it out for her to understand.”

Jin knows Namjoon is right. The question is what he’s going to do about it.

Jin also knows this is not the best time to initiate this conversation but he decides to knock on your door after standing in front of it finally done contemplating.

Your eyes are tired but widen when you see him and while your lights are off your laptop gives off a light behind you that indicates you are still awake. It's 3 in the morning.

Jin smells like alcohol again, but he doesn't seem as hammered as when he first came home. He almost looks painfully sober.

"Did you just get home?" Unsure what to say you ask carefully. Your fingers grip the door until your knuckles are turning white. You're wearing black shorts with a tank top and you're clearly not wearing a bra as Jin can see the outline of your breasts.

Realising his mistake, he focuses back on your face thanks to the dim lighting of the place you didn't notice how he was ogling at your chest a moment ago.

Even after talking big to Namjoon not an hour ago in the bar about how he's going to confess to you being in front of you makes the words escape him and lose all confidence he had left. You look so pretty in his eyes dressed in casual clothes.

The worst that could happen is hearing your rejection. Jin wouldn't blame you after all he said and done. However, things can't go on as they are now. The distance is killing him and he hates how you avoid his looks or touches when it was welcomed before.

"I want to talk to you about something. Can I come in?" He gets it out after some silence and you seemingly contemplate accepting it. It's late and he is drunk. As if he could read your mind he's quick to assure you he didn't have that much tonight. He wasn't even out for that long.

"Alright, come in." You sigh tiredly and you step away to let him in. You don't want to have this conversation right now but you know that Jin is stubborn and it's best to hear it now than prolong this painful thing you have going on. You hate this, it's awkward you don't know how to react to his words or how to move according to his touches. You're ridden with guilt thinking that you created this situation but also angry with Jin. After avoiding you for a month he's back and acting like nothing happened between you.

You motion for your bed for him to sit and you take a seat on your rolling chair. You keep sitting opposite him when before you would always sit beside him but he doesn't say anything as he's the only one to blame for this. Of course, you're heartbroken and angry. Jin is very bad when he has to confront someone or a situation but he needs to do that or else he might really lose you forever, if you haven't already given up on him but he still has hope that you will say yes.

"I know I said this before but I'm really sorry for hurting your feelings. I don't even know what I was thinking but what I'm sure about is that after not seeing you I started to think about you more deeply. I never thought about you that way I admit it but after constantly thinking about you I think I actually like you." His words are not the best to express his thoughts but he hopes you can interpret them in a good way. Your expression is not that bright so he tries to help the situation while mumbling more words.

Trying to make things right desperately.

"If you're only saying that to..." You don't have to try and finish your sentence before he's quick to correct it.

"No! Um, no. That's not it, I'm not just saying it because I want to smooth things over. I miss being with you. I miss you so much and I hate that you avoid me now even though I know I deserve it. I'm sorry Y/N, I'm really selfish. I want to have your love again even after I said that. I know I am late but I swear if you give me a chance I'll try my hardest to make you fall in love with me again." You're too stunned to react when he suddenly gets on his knees to beg for forgiveness as his last attempt to convince you. Jin clasps your hands and squeezes them.

"J-Jin." He doesn't let you pull away as he holds your hand against his cheek. "You can stand up." You put your other hand on his shoulder feeling weird about seeing him on his knees. You didn't have time to fully grasp what was happening.

If he did this two months ago you would be over the moon. Is he saying what you think he is saying?

"I won't until you forgive me. Y/N please." You feel pressured but on the other hand, you still have those butterflies in your stomach. You don't think he will let up if you ask him for more time to consider so you silently consider your options now.

He did hurt your feelings but you know Jin would never lie to you. You believe that what he said now is the truth. If he truly considered your feelings and feels like giving it a try with you. You could take one and give your heart a chance.

This time you won't need to hide it anymore. Your friendship cannot go on as it is - and even if in the end it doesn't work out you could at least say you tried your best.

"Alright. I will forgive you Jin." You cup his face with both hands. Jin looks up at you with a silly smile at seeing your expression soften and he pulls you down for a puppy kiss.

It's nothing but lip on the lip but it's finally happening. Jin is kissing you.

You smile into it before it can deepen but neither of you minds it. "Are you going to get up now?"

You help him up after he nods. He lets out a little laughter feeling good after you accept his confession. Both of you just stare at each other after that in the middle of the room unable to move.

"Good night Jin." Unsure what to do you think it's best to leave things at that. It's almost 4 am. Seokjin can sense your hesitance even though you cleared your feelings it's clear that you don't know what you're allowed and not allowed to do.

"Can I stay? I missed you a lot." Jin pulls you close by holding onto your waist. He can feel it on his skin how your heartbeat accelerates as he closes the gap. He kisses your jaw and your fingers tighten around the material of his shirt.

"S-sure." Unable to resist his charms you agree to sleep together. While Jin goes to change his clothes and shower you tidy up your room a bit. You're already under the covers when Jin comes back. The last thing you feel is how he kisses your cheeks and whispers a good night before you close your tired eyes enveloped in his warm arms.

The next time your friends gathered you showed up with Jin hand in hand. After the initial shock wore off everyone congratulated you and Jin on your newfound love. Some things changed but some aren’t. He’s still as sweet to you as ever, you cook together watch movies and talk late into the night but your relationship now has a bonus that you were unable to experience in your friendship. The kisses.

When you’re talking with your friends he sometimes kisses the top of your head pulls you close to his side or holds your hand under the table. Just some subtle romantic actions but they make your heart flutter. There are times when Jin comes home from work and you greet him with a sweet peck. Sometimes it grows into a makeout session. With you on his lap and your fingers in his hair feverishly exchanging kisses on the couch. Or when you’re getting ready to bed he pulls you close under the covers and kisses you until you’re breathless.

Today is one of those days when you two get carried away with the kisses. Jin had a stressful day at work. Some people complained that the food was bad and he had to smooth things over when a waiter got into an argument with a customer. The first thing he did when he got home was hug you close and breathe in your calming scent. You could tell that something was bothering Jin but you hugged him back and offered him your comfort. You didn’t think things would get this heated.

Jin suddenly kissed you like you were the air that he desperately needed to survive he hungrily started to devour your lips until they got swollen and pink. Before anything could escalate you always find a way to stop. If Jin initiates the make-outs then you always put an end to it before the clothes could get unbuttoned.

Jin read the blog and read all about your fantasies so he knows you’re not particularly shy or innocent. At first, he just thought you were not ready and he wanted to wait for you so he never mentioned anything but now he thinks differently. He heard you one morning when he had to come back for his keys when you thought he left for work you pleasured yourself in your shared bed he could hear you moan his name. You always stop before anything could get too heated and he thinks it’s because you’re afraid to initiate anything sexual not because you don’t want to but because you’re afraid to appear too needy.

Today he’s not letting you get away.

He stops you from getting up from his lap. Jin knows that you can feel his bulge underneath you. Continues his kisses down your throat to your collarbones that poke out from under your t-shirt. Your fingers grip his wide shoulders as you try to remain calm, small sighs escape you as he keeps peppering your skin with his wet kisses. You want to roll your hips to get some relief but you’re afraid you wouldn’t be able to control yourself anymore if you did. This is exactly what Jin wants though. He pulls you impossibly close bucking his hips up to you with a firm hold on you he rubs his clothed cock between your legs until you start to soak his lap. Pushing his tongue into your mouth he swallows your needy sounds but he’s no better at keeping his voice down. The small whimpers that escape only fuel your arousal. You swear he knows what he’s doing to you. You try to get away before it gets too much but Jin desperately clings to you as if he reads your mind he opens his mouth to protest.

“Don’t stop please.” Jin continues to guide your hips pushing you against his fully hard cock he wants to take it out already but he holds himself back. His doe eyes meet your half-lidded ones as he chases the friction he craves.

You bite back a moan when you take in the sight under you. He’s so perfect. He holds onto you tightly like he’s afraid you will disappear. It feels like your concerns were unfounded after seeing the unlimited desire in his passionate eyes. You were afraid to have sex with Jin after what happened before. You thought he thought you were dirty after writing sex scenes with his name. It seems like you were wrong. He doesn’t think you’re dirty or undesirable it’s clearly written on his face what he wants.

You relax into his embrace and kiss him lovingly. You want to give him everything he wants. You put your hand above his heart you can feel how his heart beats fast under your palm getting under his spell you continue your journey down his stomach until you catch the side of his waistband and play with it. You explore further your kisses reach his neck your teeth and tongue create dark marks on his skin as your fingers palm him over his clothes. Jin’s hand tighten around your waist he lets out his sounds freely appreciating the care and attention you willingly give to him. Molding against your body he becomes putty in your hands.

“You’re so pretty Jinie.” Shyness blooms on his face at your compliment he buries his face into your shoulders moaning when you increase your hand movements. He’s getting so worked up by your little touches. Your tongue darts out to lick a long stripe up his neck lastly pulling his ear between your teeth. “My pretty baby is getting close? It feels like you’re about to burst. You won’t let anyone else touch you like this right? Only I want to see you like this.” You grab the side of his face with one hand forcing him to open his eyes and look at you.

Your fierce gaze makes Jin gulp down the accumulated saliva in his mouth. He opened it to answer but he could only let out his moans. It’s hard to form a coherent sentence when your hand rubs him so well. You won’t let him get away with it as you push your thumb into his mouth and press on his tongue. Jin can only whine as your finger gets coated in his saliva his eyes stay unfocused as you rub harder. He feels this incredible tightness in his lower stomach signalling his approaching end.

“Tell me that you’re mine and I will let you cum. Be a pretty boy and say it.” Your fingers leave his mouth so he can tell you. He tells you with tears glistening in his eyes the pleasure is too great to handle as he comes in his pants.

“Yours, only yours.” He pants whines and whimpers his whole body shakes as you guide him through his orgasm.

“My Jinie.” You kiss him swallowing his noises. His heart skips a beat your possessive side only adds to your appeal. He never heard you talk like that you say the most sinful things and he loves every second of it.

He doesn’t have time to feel embarrassed about cumming in his pants as you keep devouring his lips your desire growing bigger as you get frustrated as you’re soaking wet and didn’t do anything to relieve yourself.

You only pull away to get rid of your clothes. Seeing your naked body Jin feels the blood leave his head and travel down to his cock. Getting harder again. Jin parts your folds with two fingers his lips are on your neck tasting your skin as he works your pussy. You’re so wet his fingers glide on your sensitive skin easily. One finger sinks into you while his thumb keeps rubbing your clit eliciting sweet moans from you.

You clamp down on the finger inside getting close to your release. Your face is tucked into his shoulders. Jin watches as you ride his fingers slipping a second one inside at the same time you pull him out of his pants and wrap your hand around his shaft.

You kiss and moan into each other’s mouths building a steady rhythm together. You stop his fingers before you could cum around them.

“Want you in me.” Jin nods eagerly pulling your hips up until your opening is aligned with his tip. You sink down slowly feeling each vein and twitch of his cock as it gets buried inside your wet heat.

You ride it fast and deep chasing your end that got denied before you didn’t need much to reach it. It took some swirls of his finger on your sensitive clit to pulse around his cock and milk him with your release. The wetness provided an easy glide Jin could guide you up and down his cock easily until he cums deep inside you a few minutes later.

“You feel so good.” You smile into the kiss. This was way better than your imagination. Kim Seokjin. Jin or Jinie shortened for friends and family. Your bestest friend’s older brother and your current roommate of nine months, nine hours and – a brief look at your wristwatch – twenty minutes and now your new lover.

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year ago

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burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter one

summary: leaving your old life behind, you move to copenhagen to follow your dream of opening a restaurant. almost a year after opening, luca's quest for inspiration brings him right to your doorstep.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 2500

a/n: remember when i said we'd get pastry chef luca fanfic whether we liked it or not? well, it seems i can't be normal about anything bc i have an outline of (potentially) 10 chapters right now based on this headcanon. while i try to keep reader characters pretty neutral so that you can picture yourself, i have this reader creating food from her own life experiences/cultures so do what you will with that. also, i tagged some peeps from my headcanon post, but please let me know if you'd like to be removed.

masterlist | part two

He’s in search of inspiration when he finds the restaurant – your restaurant.

It’s an American stagiaire and a single conversation that makes him realize that he’s missing something – that he’s been in need of something fresh, a new perspective– setting him on his quest.

The best things are inspired.

Luca stares at a blank piece of paper for what feels like hours, writing a few things down, sketching up an idea, before viciously crossing them out, hopelessly stuck on new ideas for the new menu. After a few half-baked ideas that go nowhere, It occurs to him that he may be in need of a little inspiration himself. He can’t think of the last time he’s taken his own advice, mulling over the carefully-chosen words of wisdom imparted to Marcus a couple of weeks ago, and he’s determined to change that.

A review in the paper, an old colleague’s recent trip there, and a glowing recommendation from a close friend are what bring him to the restaurant.

He’s not sure what to expect – having forgone any interest in cuisine described with the words trendy or fusion a long time ago – but Luca reminds himself that it’s the writer’s word choice, not the chef’s, when writing the article.

When Luca steps into the small home-turned-restaurant, he’s immediately inundated with a warmth, a homeyness, that takes him by surprise. From the open kitchen, to the golden lighting, it feels vastly different from the classic Danish-style, fine dining establishments that have swept the country.

But Luca reminds himself that the announcement of noma’s 2024 closure, has shifted the conversation around dining culture in Denmark, and already, he can feel that this is the breath of fresh air that he’s been looking for.

Luca’s seated quickly with care and hospitality by a highly-attentive host, which he only assumes is a symptom of the fact that he read somewhere that you’re an American. While Danish, the host is boisterous, as if he’s known Luca since childhood. Luca smiles politely in response, graciously thanking the man and his chocolate brown curls.

The menu is small, indicating that each dish receives enough care to be excellent and he likes that, despite being described as trendy and fusion-focused, your menu is creative. It’s different. It’s inspired.

He chooses the special of the day: the mapo tofu bolognese – a traditionally Italian concept done from an Asian perspective – and the suggested wine pairing.

It doesn’t take long for him to receive his glass of wine, or his food, and he’s pleasantly surprised by how efficient service seems. Stealing glances through the open kitchen, he watches as you and your sous lead dinner service with a kind of compassionate leadership and playfulness that warms him from the inside out.

“We recommend mixing the whipped tofu into the dish for a creamier sauce. Skal,” his waitress greets, with a warm smile on her face as she sets down the bowl of noodles.

“Cheers,” Luca replies, his eyes savoring every single detail of the dish.

It’s somehow elevated, thoughtful, and elegant, yet comforting all at once.

Luca picks up his fork, using it to collect a little bit of everything – a perfect noodle twirl with just enough sauce, and ground pork before running his fork the whipped topping – raising the fork to his lips for his first bite.

As the flavors hit his tongue, he closes his eyes, and it’s as if time has stopped, just for a moment.

The wheat noodles are perfectly al dente while the whipped tofu is almost ricotta-like, transforming into a silky smooth addition to the dish, cutting the tingle and heat of the Sichuan chili peppercorn-based sauce.

The corners of his lips turn up as he takes a breath, opening his eyes as he savors the delicate layers of flavors. With a crooked smile on his face, he decides that he’ll most certainly be back next week.

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

You make peace with the fact that tonight is one of those nights – a slow night – as you finish washing your hands. It being a slow night, you’d encouraged your staff to up the hospitality at the pre-shift meeting. Treating guests with the utmost personal touches in an effort to build genuine connections would be the focus of tonight’s slow service. In fact, you and Mathilde, your sous chef, had been running dishes out this evening – something you rarely had the luxury to do.

“You should go say hello,” your sous encourages, nodding towards the dining room through the expansive window of the open kitchen.

“Thought it was your turn,” you reply in a casual tone, paying no attention to who she’s referencing.

“No, I think you should take this one,” Mathilde nudges you, causing you to look up. You shoot her a funny look, your eyes flickering over the mischievous expression she has on her face, to where she’s gestured towards.

“To-?” you begin to ask, before seeing exactly who she’s talking about.

“Ehm. Tall, blonde, and tatted!” she emphasizes in a whisper yell.

You don’t really need the description as you glance over at the dining room, easily spotting the man seated at a two-seater near the front window.

“You’re right. He’s become a bit of a regular,” you agree with a curt nod that means all business, no pleasure, as you move a few things as you walk and talk around the kitchen, tidying up.

“That’s not what I meant,” she scoffs with a playful eye roll.

“You know, Jesper thought he was Swedish because… look at him… but he’s apparently a Brit,” she gossips with you, her eyes stealing a glance his way. “We’re slow tonight. He’s here every week. Sure he’d appreciate a direct thank you from the chef!”

“I-,” you hesitate, wondering why she’s so damn insistent on this. “... yeah, alright. I’ll go.”

“That’s my girl!” Mathilde cheers, in a sing-song voice, she hands you the beautifully plated bowl of pasta to take out to the dining room.

As you walk over towards his table, you make a note that it seems as if the mystery man has made this a bit of a routine. He shows every Saturday at exactly 7 pm, week after week, for the past month or so, as if it’s a standing date he has with himself. After his first visit, you half-expected him to bring a date when he returned, or bring a group of friends, or for something different to happen.

But it hadn’t and you’ve watched him come in, week after week, with a different book each time. He always orders the special of the day and whatever suggested wine pairing Jesper’s recommended that week.

Most Saturday nights you're busy leading a kitchen or cooking on the line – having little to no time to fixate or wonder curiously over your weekly diner – but tonight’s pace affords you the luxury to spend more time at the front of house. Truthfully, you know it’s the thing that sets you apart. Sure, the hospitality here in Copenhagen is excellent, but you bring an American hospitality-style to this restaurant – and above and beyond mentality – that feels welcoming, personal, even, as if your restaurant itself is just an extension of your home.

You’ve heard your staff – front of house and back of house – whispering about him, all seemingly enamored and enchanted by the charming Brit. All any of you knew about him was that his name was Luca and that he’s always more than kind to your front of house staff.

He doesn’t say much when he comes in, you’ve noticed, but every Saturday at 7 pm, he’s pushing his way through the front door with punctuality and a gentle ease.

The whisperings from your staff had all revolved around who your mysterious regular must be: whether he was Danish or Swedish, that someone that good looking must already have a partner, that he doesn’t wear a ring.

You hadn’t paid much attention to the gossip (or at least that’s what you’ve told yourself) more focused on running dinner service then trying to piece together the story of your handsome, mysterious regular.

“Hello,” you greet him warmly. “I just wanted to come introduce myself and say thank you for becoming one of our regulars. Your support means a lot to all of us.”

“Hi, I’m Luca.”

You share your name with a smile as he shakes your hand.

Luca turns his attention down to the bowl you’ve put in front of him, his eyes taking in the beautiful presentation hungrily.

“Wow, this looks… incredible,” he marvels, returning his gaze back to you.

“Thank you. I’m sure my front of house already walked you through this but if you’d like for me to-,” you begin.

“Yes, that’d be great, thanks,” he interjects, a crooked smile on his face that makes your heart skip a beat.

You have to pull your attention away from him, hoping he doesn’t notice that you’re quite possibly gawking at him.

He’s kind, charming, and he’s easy on the eyes (easy on the eyes, really being an understatement here).

“Today’s special was inspired by a childhood favorite of mine,” you begin, walking him through each component of the dish.

Crispy Rice. Caramelized marinated trumpet mushrooms and charred broccolini. Your mom’s sauce approached with classic French techniques, courtesy of your sous, Mathilde, a classically French-trained chef.

It’s a marriage of your story. Of the people around you. It’s your heart and theirs, put into a dish.

“You’re the chef?” he asks, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

“Yes,” you answer, trying your best to get a read on him.

He balks, and you’re unsure of how you’re supposed to respond. Was he surprised that you’re a woman? That he’s been eating your food the whole time and expected a male chef? Before you can overthink it, Luca clarifies with:

“I’m sorry. It’s just-, I can't think of the last time I saw a head chef work front of house, let alone with this much care.”

Oh.

You let down your guard, wondering why you’d assumed the worst when the man’s been nothing but kind to you and your staff so far.

"We're a little short staffed tonight. And I love getting to talk to diners… especially on nights like this,” you explain, trying your best to sound like you hadn’t just assumed that he was a sexist asshole.

He shakes his head in disbelief, looking down at the picturesque bowl, then back to you.

Luca is impressed, and he has no intention of hiding it.

He picks up his wine glass by the stem, raising it to you.

"Cheers,” he says. “And thank you. This is a really beautiful dish.”

“Of course. Enjoy,” you reply, giving him a polite smile, before heading back into the kitchen.

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

“Good service tonight, everybody!” Jesper, your front of house manager, announces while clapping a few times to signal to staff that it’s time for a post shift meeting.

As you all gather in the pristine front of house space. Some of your cooks have taken their aprons off, others haven’t had a moment to unwind from the shift yet – business picking up in the last hour or so of service.

Jesper goes through his nightly wrap-up notes, celebrating the wins of tonight, and making sure to celebrate how everyone rallied to pick up pace when business spiked. He’s gregarious, larger-than-life, the kind of person who can talk to anyone about anything, making him an excellent front of house manager, and even better sommelier. You really lucked out with the twins, you think to yourself – with Jesper and Mathilde – when they were more than eager to work with you on opening this restaurant.

“Oh, and before we go, a client left a gift… table number four,” Jesper says, in reference to Luca’s table. He pulls a tan-colored pastry box from another table, setting it down on a table where everyone can take a look.

“As a thank you. He requested for me to share. So have it and let’s make a note next time he’s in to really treat him like a VIP.”

One of your most-talented servers opens the box, eliciting a chorus of gasps, giggles, and excited whispers as soon as the assortment of croissants and pastries are revealed.

You and Mathilde exchange a look as everyone else busy themselves with unpacking the pastry box. Mathilde raises an eyebrow and you’re not sure what to say. Witnessing your silent exchange, Jesper makes his way over to the both of you, before extending his arm to reveal the card he’s holding.

“And this, my dear…” he begins, exchanging a look with his sister. “...is for you.”

“What do you-, just me?” you ask as you take it, hesitantly.

“I think so, yeah,” he nods, confidently.

To the Chef, the front of the card reads.

“Jesper, let’s check out some of these pastries, yeah?” Mathilde suggests, not so subtly hinting towards her brother.

He nods, giving you a little space so that you can read the card Luca’s left for you.

As your staff divvy up the box of laminated pastries, sighing with joy as they taste the decadent, hand-crafted sweets, you take a few steps away to open the note. His handwriting is pristine – perfectly neat in every way, like he’s written over carefully measured invisible lines.

Chef,

Thank you for all of the great meals. I'd like to return the favor, that is, if you're open to it.

Tomorrow. 5 pm. Dronningens Tværgade 2, 1302

While Luca’s gift has been more-than-generous, you find yourself overwhelmed by questions. Was he a chef too? And why had he not said anything? And what was this gesture all about anyways?

You read the card a few more times, turning the words over in your head as you try to make sense of it.

Mathilde can see your overwhelm, your eyebrows knitted into one confused expression as she saunters back over to you.

“What does it say?” she asks, curiously. “A love confession perhaps?”

“Mathilde, you really have to stop reading all of those French romance novels!” you tease her. “It’s giving you too many ideas.”

“It’s the only way I keep up with my French!” she defends herself with a lackadaisical shrug, earning a laugh from you.

“Uh no… it’s actually a thank you card… only I think he… wants to feed me,” you share with her, holding the card out so that she can take a look.

“He’s a chef too?” she asks, taking the card from your hands.

“I think so, yeah,” you reply, letting out an exasperated laugh.

“Oh shit!” Mathilde exclaims, as soon as she sees the address that Luca’s written down.

“What?” you ask her, wondering if there’s something you missed.

“The address… that’s AOC. I think he’s a chef at AOC, babe,” she gasps, shaking her head as she hands the card back to you, sending a ‘you lucky, bitch’ look your way.

Oh shit, is right.

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down

1K notes · View notes

suosgirl · 6 months ago

Text

Keeping It Cute (& Dangerous) - Hayato Suo x Reader | Ch. 4

Word Count: 4970

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Pairing: Hayato Suo x Reader feat. Haruka Sakura, Akihiko Nirei, Taiga Tsugeura, Mitsuki Kiryu, Hajime Umemiya, Kotoha Tachibana

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, f!reader, manga spoilers (?), ooc (?), loss of loved one, slowburn, teasing, misunderstandings, fighting, grief, swearing, ptsd, 2 stubborn idiots falling for each other – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: Long ass chapter. Why? Because I'm a sucker for relationship development – that's all! (๑>؂•̀๑)

୨ৎ Keeping it Cute (& Dangerous) Masterlist

“If I could describe you in one word, Suo, I’d say that you’re –” “Intelligent? Patient? Cheeky?” “Insufferable.” He laughs lightly at your words as if you hadn’t just offended him, before gazing down at you with a look that screams mischief and something else that you can’t quite place yet.

It’s funny – before all of this, you didn’t think life could go any other way for you but the path you’d chosen.

You were fine with being alone. If it guarantees the safety of your hometown, then so be it. If your brother could make sacrifices, then so could you.

And you did.

Leaving wasn’t supposed to be easy, that much you knew. Walking away from the town meant you were leaving the memories you’d made there and the people that you’d grown to love.

Was it lonely at first? Of course. But as with everything in life, it just took time for this to become your new normal. You knew what you had signed up for when you left – so were you really that shocked that you began missing the presence of others or the feeling of being needed?

Everything was fine – at least, that’s what you told yourself.

But, being here, in Makochi – you didn’t think you’d ever experience those feelings again.

That feeling of being wanted, needed, and loved.

And suddenly – you weren’t so alone anymore.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

It didn’t take much longer for the other boys to finally find where you and Suo were.

They came running in a frenzy, eyes wide and out of breath, and you couldn’t help the small chuckle that left your lips at the sight.

Did they really care that much? They didn’t even know you. But … they wanted to, and that meant more to you than you’d like to admit.

… It was getting harder to ignore the budding warmth in your chest and the crinkle in your eyes.

Whether it was due to Suo’s words or the overwhelming feeling of being, for the first time in what felt like forever, seen and understood – you allowed yourself, just this once, to hope again.

Fine. If they wanted to, you’d let them. You’d take Suo’s words for face value, and meet them first with your head held up high, like a tiger would. Were you afraid? Absolutely. But – you were hopeful, and that made all the difference.

They stare at you, their faces expecting the worst, and you pity them just a bit. It wouldn’t do them any good to worry – and you were every bit gracious and kind, so you throw them a bone.

You were, after all, weak to dreamy guys.

“Alright,” you let out a deep sigh, “Who wants my number?”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

It starts with a simple invitation through text.

Nirei messages you first, inviting you to meet him at a place called Café Pothos, and you genuinely consider saying no and that you’re busy – but then, you remember the puppy dog eyes that he has so diligently mastered, and you just can’t find it in your heart to say no to a face like that.

(Unbeknownst to you, he’s quick to catch on. This would become your downfall.)

When you arrive, you recognize it as the place that they had brought you to before. Back then, you’d been in a much more hectic headspace, so you hadn’t taken the time to appreciate all the little details about it. Now, though, you were able to admire the flourishing plants all over the café and the aroma of coffee in the air.

Upon entering, you see a girl behind the counter, and you’re quick to take a sharp inhale because – she’s pretty.

You weren’t sure what the people in Makochi ate, but it was terribly unfair that everyone here happened to be blessed with the most spectacular genes that you’ve ever witnessed in your life.

It was, quite honestly, so fucked up.

As you glance around the café, you notice that you’re the only one here – and that she’s staring at you with a good-natured grin on her face.

She’s warm and inviting as she beckons you over, asking what you’d like and if you’re from out of town.

(You make a mental note to gain some sort of backbone against attractive people.)

You easily fall into a conversation with her as she prepares a cup of coffee for you, and you learn that her name is Kotoha and that she’s over at the café more often than not.

“You could easily be a model, you know,” you tell her earnestly, and she blushes as she waves off your comment.

Once you introduce yourself, her face lights up with recognition – and now, it was your turn to blush.

“Oh! That’s you! I’ve heard about you! In fact, they haven’t stopped talking about you –”

You should’ve expected this, really – but you didn’t. It had been so long since you were on the receiving end of showered praise like this, and you’d already gotten your fill a couple days prior. So, to say that this was overwhelming was an understatement.

“...And,” she continues with a wink, “You’re as pretty as they said you were.”

Your fingers shoot up to cover your lips – partly in shock but mostly in disbelief because you can’t wrap your head around the fact that they’ve been telling people that and –

“Oh! What’s got you looking so red, bunny?”

…

You weren’t sure if you were going to make it long enough for Nirei to arrive.

Actually, you weren’t sure if you were going to make it long enough in this town.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

To your relief, Nirei comes soon after, and you’re saved from the onslaught of the two biggest instigators that you’ve ever met.

The minute he walks in, you’re immediately jumping out of your seat to greet him, and he matches your energy in a heartbeat. He’s greeting you just as enthusiastically, though you don’t have it in you to explain why you’re so happy to see him. And – you notice that he’s tacked on “-san” to the end of your name.

(If you squint, you can almost make out the furious wagging of a tail.)

The eyes of Suo and Kotoha glinting with sadistic delight behind you only serve as a reminder of the hell that you had once endured, and you silently thank whatever higher power is out there that Nirei has the heart of an angel.

“Thank you for meeting me here! I meant to ask you this when we first met, but you just kept running away!”

On second thought, you’re not so sure now about that last tidbit.

He begins bombarding you with questions, from your height, to your blood type, to what you look for in a partner, and you briefly wonder if the town of Makochi is hell personified.

“How about we sit down first, Nirei? At, uh – the table right over there in the corner.”

Nirei nods, and you’re so glad that he’s at least a good listener – until he spots Kotoha and Suo.

In the same fashion that a puppy would, he instantly goes over to greet them, takes a seat, looks at you, then pulls out the seat next to him – and pats it with his hand.

“I –”, you stumble over your words, shaking your head at him.

Oh god, were you the puppy?

… No. You were NOT a puppy (or a bunny).

You would stand your ground, and give him an ultimatum. That’s what you would do.

But then he starts giving you the eyes, the puppy dog eyes, and you feel yourself start to waver — but you must persist.

When faced with a challenge, when standing in the path of uncertainty, you must prevail and —

Kotoha and Suo join in, though their eyes don’t quite hit that same twinkle of desperation that Nirei’s does.

Still — you admit defeat.

You sigh before slowly trudging over to the chair that had been so kindly pulled out for you. You really had to pull yourself together.

Tomorrow, you tell yourself. Tomorrow. I’ll have a backbone by tomorrow.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You do not, in fact, build a backbone.

At this point, you’re not even sure you know what a backbone even is anymore.

What you do know, though, is that –

Muscle Power is one of Tsugeura’s favorite food joints in Makochi. You personally really like their banana pound cake – and he knows this. So, whenever he’s in the mood to go when everyone else conveniently can’t – he knows that he can always count on you to keep him company.

You also find out that he’s really into wrestling, though you’re not so sure if this was much of a secret in the first place. It had all happened so casually too, and honestly, you hadn’t even noticed when you chimed into the conversation.

The 6 of you were sat at the café, though you were sat at a table separate from theirs as you calculate your budget for the month. You thought it’d be a peaceful experience, just you in a corner and Kotoha behind the counter, but once one of them starts filing in, they all file in.

You try to block them out as best you can as you do calculation after calculation, but you were never that good at multitasking. As your concentration shifts to focus on the numbers in your notebook, you subconsciously start picking up on their conversation.

You hear Tsugeura go on a tangent about BxB Hulk, a wrestler that both you and your brother had really admired, but he seems stuck as he tries to remember the year he made his debut.

“...2005,” you say absentmindedly, deep in thought as you stare at your notebook, “... with the Dragon Gate Dojo.”

You go to circle something, but Tsugeura’s gasp of shock makes you jump instead. You go to give him an accusatory look, but they’re all looking at you in a similar fashion.

You blink at their reactions before tilting your head, “What?... I’m not wrong, am I?”

You had no idea that those words would give you a permanent spot as Tsugeura’s #1 person to talk about wrestling with – and you’d never admit this but – you were just as passionate about it as he was.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You learn that Kiryu is stupidly good at crane games – though, you’ve been able to win a couple stuffed animals for him too so you’d say it’s even. He also teaches you some of his favorite hairstyles, and you do, in fact, confirm that his hair smells as good as it looks.

When you find out about his older sister, everything suddenly clicks for you, and you understand now why you’re so comfortable around him and why he’s so good at being able to pick up on even the smallest changes in you.

Whenever your time of the month came, he’d seem to always be stocked up with chocolate, an extra pad or two, and ibuprofen. If you did something new with your makeup, like a new lip color or a different pair of lashes, it’d be the first thing that he comments on when he sees you. And – he always checks in on you. If it’s been a couple of days since you’d last seen them, he’s sending you a quick text asking if you’ve eaten or inviting you to a casual hangout.

There seems to be no end to his thoughtfulness, and it’s something that you learn to appreciate very deeply.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Sakura, despite the attitude he portrays and the things he may say, is a huge softie (you belatedly find out that the pink, sometimes red, on his face that blooms at the most random of times is in fact not a skin condition but indeed his blush).

And, you’re glad to learn that he’s as strong as he says he is.

It begins with a petty argument – something about vegetables and how he doesn’t eat them – but you’re both so stubborn that your harmless comment eventually turns into an all out confrontation. And, when he asks if you want to take it outside – you say yes.

You admit that you were worried that he’d be the type to pull back his punches in a fight because you’re you, but you’re pleasantly surprised when he, instead, runs towards you with all the strength of a bulldozer.

As you dodge and evade his moves, you realize how talented he truly is. You had a feeling, of course, but to see in action the way that he has total control of his body is a different beast altogether.

When you get in close to try and land a kick to his head, you see a smile on his face as he blocks it with his arms. But his smile isn’t condescending or mocking. No, this is a smile that shows that he’s having fun, that he finds you worthy – and you don’t try to stop the smile that’s growing on your face either.

He really reminded you of your brother.

Your sparring only lasts for a couple of minutes before Nirei pulls out those damned puppy dog eyes, but it's enough for you both to find newfound respect in one another.

And, as he goes to fix his jacket, he mutters a quiet, “I took that seriously, y’know.”

You grin, a radiant laugh bursting from your lips as you look up at him and say, “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

To your surprise, Nirei has a sharp memory and an even sharper tongue.

You’ve tried to lie your way out of several hangouts – he always calls you out with no remorse.

(“Ah, man, I’d love to, truly, but I forgot that my laundry is out drying so I really should –”

“You said you folded your clothes yesterday, remember?”)

But as much as you hated it, you couldn’t help but also appreciate the way that he genuinely cared for his friends with his heart on his sleeve. He was earnest, loyal, and caring – everything that you’d soon come to admire about him.

And, when he finds out that you enjoy going to secondhand stores too? Oh, he blows up your phone at least 3 times a month asking if you’d like to join him on yet another “hunt”. This, though, was a hangout that you’d never say no to. It was always so fun getting to dig around together to see what you could find (your brother was never one for shopping), and you enjoyed this time because you got to know even more about the other boys through Nirei, who spoke about them with shining eyes and pride in his voice.

He really was an amazing storyteller – and an even better friend.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Kotoha is as honest as she is loving – and you’re so grateful to have grown so close to her within such a short time. After your initial meeting, you find yourself hanging out at Café Pothos way more often than you’d like to admit, and you come to admire how diligent, hardworking, and compassionate she is.

Your friendship with her blossoms naturally, and at some point she begins to join you and Nirei on your little thrifting trips. She becomes someone that you feel comfortable with confiding in, and you’re delighted to find out that it goes both ways.

And aside from all of this – she also manages to help you get a job at Café Pothos alongside her.

When you’d mindlessly mentioned once that you were running short on your funds from your last job (as a result of all the hangouts that you were, regretfully, indulging in), Kotoha was the one who offered to see if there was an opening available at the café. When you came in on your first day for training – she was the one showing you the ropes and guiding you with her hands.

And, when you finally met her brother, well –

The first time you meet Umemiya, you (understandably) burst into tears, and he (understandably) freaks the fuck out.

Nirei, with your tearful eyes and a nod of approval, clues him in on your backstory.

By the end of it, you’ve managed to slow down the crying to only a few tears, a fond look on your face as you listen to Nirei speak.

You open your mouth, ready to apologize but Umemiya beats you to it.

He has a hand gently patting the top of your head, and a smile on his face.

But that smile – it says so many things all at once.

So many things that you haven’t felt in so long.

“He would be proud of who you’ve become.”

And, for the first time since his death, you finally let your body relax.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

But Suo, despite all of this, remains ever mysterious and tight-lipped.

You still don’t know too much about him, and you’re not privy to prying for information either (though you admit that you’ve asked Nirei about him once or twice). What you are able to gather, however, is that Suo is a huge pain in your ass. The teasing never ends, he always has his eye on you at all times, and –

At first, you think he’s just being nice.

A warm hand on your lower back guiding you through the bustling crowd of the town.

A sweet smile on his face whenever he greets you or catches sight of your familiar head of hair.

A passing remark about how pretty your eyes look that day.

But then –

You notice his hands linger just a bit longer than normal, and they’re starting to gravitate just a little bit lower or just a bit higher, until the resting of his hand on your waist or your hips becomes a new normal.

His smile, you realize, is much more than just sweet. Sometimes, you’ll catch a hint of endearment or amusement, as if he’s in on a joke that you know nothing about.

And the remarks? They progress from just being about your eyes to your hairstyle that day, or your outfit, or your smile, or your laugh.

But it doesn’t just stop there – it seems that, if you’re not working, he’s got to be touching you at all times. Your legs pressed firmly together whenever you sat next to each other. His hands wrapped around your waist when he moves around you. Your arms always touching when you’re standing beside each other.

And any chance he gets, he’s whispering in your ear. It could be anything, from explaining something that gets brought up when you’re with the group, to casually talking about the weather.

But sometimes, with his lips so close to your ear that you can feel the warm puffs of his breath, he’ll lower his voice just the littlest bit, make his words sound the tiniest bit breathless and then –

He pulls away, with that stupid little smile on his face and mirth in his eyes.

Everytime, everytime he does it, you’re left flustered and alone, with a hand held up to your ear as if to hold on just a little bit longer to the sensation, to the feeling of his lips so close to you.

And he never ever calls you your name. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever heard it leave his lips – at least not when he’s around you.

“Wow bunny, you’re so strong!”

“Bunny, play nice –”

“Oh bunny, you’re here!”

All the “bunny” this and “bunny” that messes with your head. So much so that Suo could say it in a crowded room and you’re already turning your attention to him to see what he wants.

(And if you were to think about it a while longer, you’d realize that no one else uses that affectionate name on you. You’d realize that people have tried, but when they look up, Suo’s already got an eye on them and a tight-lipped smile on his face – and it sends shivers down their spine. Not like you’d recognize that they’re calling you though, your ears only attuned to the way that Suo calls it out.)

Working at the café doesn’t help.

From the moment you clock in to the moment you clock out, you can expect Suo to pop in at least once during your shift – twice if he comes early in the day to have a cup of tea with Sakura and Nirei.

And everytime, everytime you clock out – he’s patiently waiting to walk you home.

It starts on your first day – and you were not prepared for the sight of him, in all his lovely glory, to be standing outside with a smile on his face as you locked up the doors. It was such a shock that you’d dropped the keys in panic, and he quickly bent down to grab them before handing it to you.

When he grabs your hand and gently drops the keys in your palm, you don’t miss the way his thumb caresses yours.

His hands were so damn warm – and soft.

“I – what are you doing here?”

“Is it a crime to escort you home?”

Your lips part in surprise, and you can feel the way your breathing is starting to quicken in response.

“No, uh … it’s not. But –”

He laughs, and you notice that he’s still holding your hand in his.

You don’t make a move to remove it.

“Everyone’s been hanging out with you. I just wanted some time for myself, that’s all.”

His words catch you off guard, and he takes that silence as an invitation to continue.

“Besides – I’m the one who convinced you to stay. Shouldn’t I be able to spend time with you as well?”

You … don’t have a good enough reason to say no.

So, you let it happen.

During the walk, you talk about all the mundane things, from how your day went to what you had for lunch.

And, if your shoulders occasionally bump into one another or your fingers accidentally brush, well –

Neither of you mention it.

When you finally make it to your apartment, he follows you right up to the door. You feel his looming presence behind you, and the warmth emanating from his body, and it takes everything in your power not to drop your keys again.

And, once your door finally unlocks, you feel a shift behind you.

Suddenly, his hands are on either side of the doorframe, caging you in, and your back is pressed flush against his chest.

And goodness did his chest feel strong.

He’s so so close that you can hear his lips part and his soft inhale as he whispers coyly into your ear, “Sweet dreams, bunny.”

Before you can react, he’s already taken a step back with his hand waving goodbye and an innocent smile on his face.

You think about it for the rest of the night.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

It goes on like this for months, and you’re not sure what sick and twisted game he’s playing at, but he never explains his behavior, never confesses his feelings, never addresses the elephant in the room.

And you – well, you’re not sure how to even bring it up.

It’s not that you’re mad about it (quite the opposite), but every touch, every whisper, every smile leaves you wanting more.

But you weren’t sure if you could handle more. Not if it was going to be like this. Your poor heart wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Suo had started a craving that you weren’t sure could ever be satisfied, but no matter how much you tried to ward him off, he remained persistent and stubborn.

“You really don’t have to do this, Suo — though I appreciate the gesture,” you remark, your head tilted up to gauge his reaction as he walks in stride with you.

“But I enjoy doing it, so what’s the issue?”

“The issue, Suo, is that I’m perfectly capable of walking home alone. Shouldn’t you be – oh, I don’t know – spending your time with people who might actually need help?”

He takes a moment to think about this – at least, he acts like he does. But, you know better. You’re starting to be able to differentiate when he’s being sarcastic and when he’s not, and right now, as he brings his finger up to tap “thoughtfully” on his chin, you can’t help but feel the urge to humble him just the tiniest bit.

So you do.

“If I could describe you in one word, Suo, I’d say that you’re –”

“Intelligent? Patient? Cheeky?”

“Insufferable.”

He laughs lightly at your words as if you hadn’t just offended him, before gazing down at you with a look that screams mischief and something else that you can’t quite place yet.

And, with an air of casualty, as if you’d both just been talking about the different blends of tea, he responds with –

“If you find me insufferable now, I can’t imagine how you would describe me as your lover.”

…

You come to a stop, your eyes blinking rapidly as you try to take in what he’s said but he cuts off your train of thought.

“Looks like you’re home now, my little bunny. This was pleasant, as always.”

Looking around, you deflate at the fact that he was right, you’d stopped right in front of your door, but you needed answers – now.

You go to open your mouth, but he’s quicker – “Oh, sorry, but I really can’t stay and chat. I’ve got to, oh, I don’t know, see if anyone needs my assistance.”

That … shut you up real quick.

You hated when he made you eat your words.

Biting back your tongue, all you can do is huff as you make your way inside, his eye burning a hole into the back of your head – and, if you weren’t so deep in distress, you’d hear the soft twinkle of satisfied laughter in his wake as he walks down the street.

God, he really was insufferable.

—

That night, you sit up with a sudden realization as it hits you.

You knew that look.

That was the look that he gave his opponents –

The one that would dare them to fight him, to challenge him, to provoke him.

He was challenging you, daring you, provoking you.

He wanted to see if you’d break first.

He wanted to see if you’d give in.

You laugh so hard that your eyes start to water – and it’s full of disbelief and shock and amusement.

Like hell you’d let that happen.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You are your brother’s sister, and his stubbornness and competitive streak had been passed down to you tenfold.

So, you catch up to Suo’s speed – fast.

Now you were the one initiating contact, touching him, teasing him.

Whenever he walked you home, you made sure to hold onto his arm, running your fingers up and down his bicep as you conversed.

And, you don’t just let go.

No. You were better than that.

Instead, you’d run your hand down his whole arm as you separated, until you got to his hand – then, you’d hold onto that until all that was left was the tip of his pointer finger.

You’d give it a gentle squeeze, thanking him for walking you home, before letting it drop from your grasp.

You don’t miss the way his eyes follow the path of your hand every time, as if entranced by the feeling and the sight.

Anytime he came into the café with Sakura and Nirei, you’d make sure to briefly touch his shoulder whenever you passed him, or hold onto his hand just a beat longer when handing him his tea.

(And, without fail, Sakura and Nirei erupt in striking hues of red and pink everytime. Though, Suo and you don’t pay them much attention. Kotoha will give you a knowing look, but you feign ignorance.)

You were no stranger to sugar coated words, either – so, you make it a goal to compliment him at least once every time you see him.

And, of course, you give him a nickname too. You take your time when you think of it because you really want it to stick – you really want it to have the same effect on him as it has on you.

So, you start calling him by his first name – and it works.

“Hayato, you smell so good today.”

“Oh my Hayato, aren’t you looking handsome~”

“Ah, I missed you, Hayato.”

And, the first time you whisper in his ear, light and airy and sweet, you feel dejected when it doesn’t have the same effect on him as it has on you. You’re brought back to the night that he had confronted you, and you’re honestly a bit sad that it seems things haven’t changed.

You begin to pull away, but something catches your eye. So slight and so small that you wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t so close. It’s the way his jaw tightens, the way he presses his lips together hard and restrained, the way that he clenches his fists until the whites of his knuckles peek out under the heated skin. And, you hear it – that sharp intake of breath.

His reaction makes you sway just the tiniest bit – and you want to see more. You want to see him flustered and flushed and desperate in the same way he’s made you.

You wanted him to lose his composure.

But – you and Suo keep it cute and casual and friendly.

Simply waiting for the other to break first.

If anyone is brave enough to bring it up, well –

You both shake your heads in denial, a quick “no” rolling off the tips of your tongues.

(They’ll simply nod at your responses, but their eyes stay glued to the spot under the table where Suo’s got his hand splayed out on your thigh and the arm you’ve got wrapped around his to keep him there.)

… Who knew a friendly competitive sparring match amongst Bofurin would be his downfall?

୨ৎ Chapter 5

#melody writes (& never stops)#wind breaker #windbreaker x reader #hayato suo #suo hayato #suo hayato x reader #hayato suo x reader #wind breaker x reader #hayato suo the man that u are

240 notes · View notes

python333 · 1 year ago

Note

I love your writings sm. And I love the way you write platonic stuff with task force 141 😋

You can ignore this if ya want but I just can't get over reader angst. Honestly atp I starve for angst. Could you feed us another angst fic? Like platonic 141 with a reader where she maybe got pretty badly injured while being on a mission? :3

AND. don't forget to stay hydrated and eat well!! Take any breaks you need 😌.

(sorry if this doesn't make sense English is not my native language 🥲)

below zero — python333

— — — —

synopsis u get thrown into a freezer after refusing to give up intel to enemy soldiers, and u get thrown into a freezer, and ghost comes and saves u :3

relationships platonic!ghost & gn!reader.

characters ghost.

word count 5.2k

warnings hypothermia, disorientation, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note hi anon thank u so much for all the compliments!!! before i say anything else, i wanna point out that i 1) only really wrote ghost into this and 2) literally read the request completely wrong and i think im actually just illiterate because how did i mess up this bad. ALSO hi its been a month since i posted on here i swear i'm still alive i'm just super busy with school!! updates are going to be extremely slow, so i apologize in advance. still, i hope u enjoy it anyways tho!! its all hurt/comfort + angst/fluff + protective/soft ghost :3

When you were thrown into the freezer, the first thing you noticed were the bodies.

There’s ten that you can immediately see, and twelve once you look a little bit closer. All of them are suspended from the ceiling, each hanging from their ankle—with said ankle being held up by a meat hook.

When the door had been closed shut with a loud, booming thump you hadn’t felt any immediate fear. But now, as you’re sitting in the corner of the freezer you’d been trapped in—the corner farthest away from any bodies—that fear is starting to set in.

Before this, only a few minutes ago, you were being interrogated. Your captors were asking for information on the details of any upcoming missions, objectives, target locations, anything that you had about the 141 that you could share with them, they wanted.

Of course, you didn’t say anything. You remained silent throughout the entire thing, not talking once, even when at the end of the whole thing your interrogator slammed his hand down onto the table you were sat down in front of and yelled at you to say anything.

When he and his team figured out that you wouldn’t give them any information, you remember he muttered something unintelligible under his breath and swiftly walked over to your end of the table. He had uncuffed your ankles from the legs of the chair you were sitting down on and uncuffed your wrists from the table, and before you could fight back, he grabbed both of your wrists with one hand and dragged you behind him.

Then, he led you to the freezer you were trapped in now, and threw you in roughly before shutting the door behind you. You had hit and scratched at the door for a good minute after being thrown in, and after you figured that it was a waste of time trying to do so, you sighed and retired to the corner.

Now, as you’re huddled in the corner, you kind of regret not giving them the intel they needed.

The freezer wasn’t too bad at first—you thought you’d last pretty long in there, and mentally called all the dead bodies hung from meat hooks in there pussies and simply walked around for a bit. The walking helped warm you up a bit, but soon it got tiring, and you retired to the corner farthest away from any dead bodies.

You think the freezer is below zero degrees—no, has to be below zero, because now, just about five minutes after being thrown in, violent shivers have started to wrack your body and you swear you can’t feel your lips anymore. You haven’t been able to feel any sort of warmth in the past four minutes, all of it disappearing within the first.

And God, the smell. The smell of frozen, rotting flesh really isn’t something you ever want to smell again. Thankfully, there’s no live flies in the freezer—all of them had died of the severe cold, creating small black circles under each hanging body where they died.

You currently have your knees up to your chest with your hands trapped in between your thighs to try and keep them warm at least, with your forehead resting on the top of one of your knees. It’s working, kind of. The palms and backs of your hands feel just warm enough to not be considered cold, but the tips of your fingers are so cold they’re beginning to burn.

You pull them back a bit to trap your fingertips in between your thighs, exposing the area where your wrist and hand meet to the cold, sighing as your fingertips warm up just a bit. Your thighs, thankfully, still have some heat trapped in between them, and you think your stomach is still somewhat warm.

Around ten minutes later, you feel the heat trapped in your thighs start to dissipate. Fucking fantastic. You sigh and let your head tilt back, the back of it hitting the wall behind you, making you wince at the cold metal directly on your head. The cold seems to crawl through your hair and make it to your scalp, small pinpricks of the cold spreading throughout your scalp and the back of your neck.

You’re reminded of just how cold it is then, of how this is quite literally a freezer, and of how said freezer has already claimed twelve lives. Or, at least, has housed twelve dead bodies and several unfortunate flies.

Just then, the fear finally starts to set in.

At first, you weren’t all too worried about being saved—you figured you’d be found soon enough, since your team has a general idea of where you are. But the more you think about it, the more your brain emphasizes the general part of general idea. You start to think about how they don’t know any specifics.

Sure, they know that you were captured, and that you were being held in some small part of Italy, and the people who captured you—but what did they know beyond that? Did they know your exact location? How long would it take them to figure it out? And how long would it take them to get here?

Would you even be alive by the time they got here, if they ever did?

You notice your teeth starting to make an annoying chattering noise and you bite down to stop them. The violent shivers that wrack your body don’t help, the intense trembling only succeeding in making you more anxious. You start to become hyper aware of the cold that crawls onto your back from the freezing metal you’re leaning back on, and you quickly push yourself just a foot away from it so that it no longer bothers you.

Your feet are starting to feel numb, you don’t think you’d be able to stand on them anymore if you tried, for you fear you’d just stumble and fall down. You look around the small freezer. There’s nothing that could help you get out—there’s only the bodies suspended from the ceiling and the dead flies that surround them.

You’re glad none of the bodies are facing you—you don’t know what you would do if you had to sit in the corner with a bunch of dead bodies staring at you with their vacant, frozen-over eyes. Thinking about the eyes makes your own water, and you blink away the small tears that’ve gathered on your waterline.

You can’t feel them, but you see the tears that were once in your eyes now clumping together on your eyelashes, making your brows furrow. With them starting to cling to your eyelashes comes blurriness for the top half of whatever you can see. You sigh, a white puff of condensation hanging in the air as evidence of your exhale, and move your hand out from in between your thighs to wipe away the tears from your lashes haphazardly.

You don’t bother to put your hand back in between your thighs, instead just resting it on top of your knee. Despite it only having been around fifteen minutes since you were thrown into the freezer, you’re starting to feel more fatigued and your breath slows down significantly, as does your heartbeat.

Another ten minutes of doing nothing but staring at the wall opposite of your own pass by, and disorientation is starting to set in. You feel oddly forgetful—like at times, you forget how you even got into the freezer, and have to wrack your brain to remember that you literally got thrown into it and are now trapped in here until someone rescues you. Assuming they do. Who was it that would even rescue you?

You think long and hard for a few seconds, and can scrounge up nothing from your confused mind. You let out a frustrated huff and let your head tilt and fall forward so that your forehead is resting atop your knee, another shiver ripping through your frame. It almost feels like it’s getting colder in the fridge.

Suddenly, you hear a loud banging noise—albeit, it sounded more muffled to your ears, but you could tell it was loud—and guns being fired.

You can’t really tell when the gunfire dies down, but you can tell when the thumping of someone’s boots grows louder and closer to the door of the freezer. You try to stand up, not really knowing why since you’re in no condition to fight, having been in a freezer for about forty minutes, but you still attempt to.

You find that standing is extremely difficult after practically being frozen alive for the past forty minutes, because as soon as you try to even push yourself off of the ground with your shaky hands, you discover that you aren’t even strong enough to push yourself up a single inch before having to stop. As well as that, you find that the ground is just as freezing as the walls and air of the freezer, because your hands now ached with frostbite.

The action causes an unexpected wave of exhaustion to roll over you, and you pant to try and catch your breath, breathing white puffs of condensation out into the air.

You hear a loud bang against the door, and jump at the sound, your head whipping towards the door. You hear another loud noise, and the confused fog that’s taken over your mind only grows thicker, your disorientation only growing stronger with it. The room feels like it’s spinning, and the feeling reminds you of a word, and you know what the word is, but fuck, why don’t you know it at the same time? Why can’t I remember anything?

There’s another bang, and you hear muffled cursing before suddenly the door bursts open, a man wearing a skull mask stumbling in after it does so—he probably ran into it to open it, you think, watching the man get his balance back. He looks around for a moment before his eyes land on you, and the moment they do, you finally remember something.

That’s Ghost.

Somewhere in your confusion-clouded mind, you’re happy that you’ve finally remembered something. But right now, you can’t really think about anything—your mind is blank, and you can barely even process what you’re seeing.

You’re so caught up in thinking about the fact that you aren’t really thinking, you’re just focusing a little more on whatever’s going on in your mind and not actually retaining any of it, that you don’t even notice Ghost rushing towards you and kneeling down right next to you.

He pauses for a moment, but after a second he makes the decision to put one hand behind your back and snake one under your legs, the warm physical touch making you wince. Not that you didn’t like the warmth—you just didn’t like the sudden temperature change beneath your knees and across your back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Ghost grunts as he picks you up, one arm under your knees and the other behind your back, lifting you up into a sort of bridal carry. He nearly drops you because of how cold your skin is—for a moment he thinks your back and legs are wet, then he realizes that no, they aren’t wet, you’re just really fucking cold.

He takes a moment to make sure you’re secure in his arms before tilting his head to the side, all the way down to his shoulder, and muttering something into his earpiece. Despite being so close to him, his voice only sounds muffled to you—in all honesty, just about everything is starting to sound more muffled to you. You can only tell he’s done talking because he lifts his head back up and readjusts his arms around you, before walking out the busted-open door.

The walking quickly turns into running, which then turns into sprinting, making your surroundings go blurry and makes your vertigo worse—it almost feels like you’re falling. You’re grateful you haven’t eaten anything in the past few hours, because you fear that if you had, you would’ve thrown it all up by now. All you can see are blurred colors—the hallways, you vaguely remember, because I’m in a building. How��d I even get here? Why am I here? You’re pulled out of your confused thoughts when you’re set down on the ground somewhere, and forced into a lying position with your limbs all outstretched. When you slowly blink up at what you thought was the ceiling, you’re both surprised and not surprised when you see the blue-black night sky.

Not sure of what’s going on, you try to get up, but Ghost quickly pushes you back down, muttering something under his breath. He pauses for a moment, his blurred figure stopping any and all movements, before he suddenly picks you back up, making you wince at the way your head spins at the sudden movement. You hear a quiet, muffled—but clearer than before—’sorry’ from Ghost before he’s running again.

It’s a much shorter distance this time, and instead of immediately setting you down, you hear something click and suddenly you hear another muffled voice. They sound concerned, you mentally note, Or maybe confused. Maybe both, actually. No yeah, definitely both. Well, now just concerned. Or maybe that’s confused.

Caught up in your confused thoughts, you don’t realize that you’re being set down on a few comfy seats. You aren’t pulled away from your own thoughts until you feel two warm hands cupping either side of your jaw, and hear Ghost’s oddly distressed voice becoming more clear by the second. You now acknowledge the weird ringing in your ears that almost drown out the sound of Ghost, and struggle to figure out what he’s saying through the annoying noise.

“—something,” You catch the end of Ghost’s sentence, and blink up at him slowly.

“Huh?” You elegantly ask, coughing and wincing at your hoarse voice, not knowing how it got so hoarse—or why it hurt so much to talk. Your throat almost felt like it was burning, but it also felt oddly numb, a sensation you couldn’t quite put a name on.

“Oh my god,” Ghost sighs, his forehead falling onto your chest momentarily as he takes a few deep breaths. He brings his head back up from your chest and says, “I almost thought you were dead when I got in there. Jesus, you look dead. I need to— I need to get something, a blanket or— why the fuck don’t we carry any heat packs or anything in here? Swear to God, I’m gonna—” You don’t pay too much attention to Ghost’s panicked ranting and shift your head to the side to try and look at where you are, and you discover that you’re in a car. Oh. Cool. You spot the door on the passenger seat’s side still open and swinging a bit, as if it’d been opened quickly just a few moments earlier for someone to quickly get out.

Ghost suddenly backs up and gets out of the car, though staying within a foot of it, looking around for a moment before heading to the back of the car. Your head clears up the tiniest bit, just enough for you to be able to assume that he’s heading to the back of the car to get to the trunk for whatever reason, and you simply lie there on the seat cushions.

A few seconds later, Ghost comes back with a somewhat-fluffy jacket, and carefully gets into the car—half kneeling down so that he doesn’t need to lean on the seats to get to you. He tosses the coat over your chest, and it does absolutely nothing at first, at least not until Ghost gets a bit closer and tucks the coat tighter around you, treating it like a blanket. Then, it starts to warm you up just the tiniest bit. Beyond that, it does absolutely nothing. But props to Ghost for at least trying.

He quickly backs out of the car and once he’s out he closes the door behind him, and you want to get up for a moment, just to go see what he’s doing, but you don’t have to. He gets into the car again, this time in the driver’s seat, and he turns on the ignition. Once the car rumbles to life, he immediately turns up the heat and leans over to the passenger seat’s side in order to close the door, and with a grunt he manages to do so.

The newfound heat makes you shiver, and it almost feels like you’re in a microwave defrosting. Distracted by the sudden temperature change, you don’t pay attention to what Ghost is saying into his earpiece as he glances out the front window of the car and back at you. You simply tug the jacket tighter around your torso and relish in the warmth.

“—ay. So we’ll just leave then, and you’ll be fine?” You pick up from Ghost’s conversation, perking up at the mention of leaving, “Copy that, Captain. I’ll get them back to base.”

‘Captain’—Oh, he’s talking to Price—says something that makes Ghost sigh exasperatedly and take his index finger off of his earpiece, instead settling both of his hands on the steering wheel of the car and stealing one last glance at you before setting his eyes on the gravel ahead of him and pushing down on the gas pedal.

—

When you wake up, you’re significantly warmer than you were… however-long-it’s-been-ago.

You look to your left and see nothing but a white wall and a heart rate monitor—which displays that your heart rate is 115—then to your right, where you see Ghost sitting in a plastic chair close to the bed you’re laying in, eyes closed with his head tilted to the side and resting on his own shoulder.

You don’t bother trying to wake him up, not knowing how long he’s been asleep or how much sleep he’s gotten, and instead simply turn your head back to stare up at the ceiling.

After maybe five minutes of zoning out and staring up at the ceiling, you hear clothes rustling and look back over to your right, seeing Ghost start to stir in his sleep. Just a few seconds later, he stirs awake, slowly blinking his eyes open.

You watch silently as he blinks the sleep out of his eyes, and he breathes in sharply through his nose before looking over at you and seeing you staring at him wordlessly. You both blink at each other for a long, awkward moment before he speaks.

“… Did you, uh… how was your… rest?” Ghost asks, not sure what to say. What exactly do you say, after saving one of your teammates from potential death?

“Good,” You respond, your throat having an odd, small burning sensation when you talk.

Ghost looks like he’s holding back a few words for a moment after you speak, and after one expectant look from you, he mumbles, “You should really say ‘well’ or ‘fine’ instead. It’d be more grammatically accurate and is more grammatically aligned with the verb ‘rest’.”

“… Okay?” You blink, thrown off by the unexpected information, “I’ll, uh… keep that in mind, next time someone asks me how my rest was.”

“You get asked that often?”

“I only get asked that by you.”

“Ah.” Ghost nods, looking off to the side for a moment. You’d think he was your dad and you’d just asked him how babies were made with how awkward he was, and you honestly expected the next words out of his mouth to be ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’ before he hesitantly asks, “D’you feel better? After the whole being-trapped-in-a-freezer… experience?”

“Experience?” You question, a light laugh evident in your voice, “Yeah, I feel better. I like being warm more than, y’know, being frozen alive. Laying down in a warm bed is nice.”

“I didn’t know how else to phrase it,” Ghost huffs out, leaning back in his seat.

“So you’re gonna correct me on my grammar but you can’t think of a better word than ‘experience’?”

“Don’t get smart with me, [c/n].”

“I’m just saying,” You shrug lightly, wincing a little when your shoulders ache as you do. Ghost notices this and his eyes narrow, but he doesn’t mention it.

“Then stop trying to sass me.”

“Sass you? Jesus, fuck, don’t talk to me like I’m some preteen who just found out that they can talk back to their parents.”

“Isn’t that what you are, though?”

“No, I’m— you know what? Fuck you. Get out. I hate you. You suck.”

“That’s a colorful choice of words to say to the man who saved your life,” Ghost raises an eyebrow at you, “I’m still waiting for my ‘thank you’, by the way.”

“Don’t care, you’re never getting it,” You say stubbornly, making Ghost sigh and stand up. You look up at him as he stands up and try to sit up in your bed, but wince again when you try to move your arms. Still, you attempt to push yourself up, and only relax your weak joints and lay back down when Ghost presses a gentle hand to your shoulder to get you to stop trying to sit up.

“Don’t,” He warns softly—you didn’t know his voice could get that soft—as he pushes you back down, “Medics said you’re to keep laying down for a bit while you warm up. We’ve gotta wait until your BPM is below a hundred before letting you up.”

“That’s stupid,” You huff out, though not fighting Ghost pushing you back down.

“It’s not stupid,” Ghost lightly chastises you, “It’s doctor’s orders. Once your BPM is below a hundred, we’ll know you’re warmed up enough to start gettin’ up and walking around.”

“… Still stupid,” You grumble, not commenting on the way Ghost’s hand lingers on your shoulder even after you’ve already laid back down. Ghost sighs and kneels down so that his shoulders are level with the railing of your bed.

“You’re too stubborn.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not!” Your light arguing only proves Ghost’s point further, and he knows this, the knowledge of it making him snicker quietly.

“Uh huh. Sure, kid,” He begins to retract his hand from your shoulder, but upon seeing the disappointment that immediately seeps into your expression once he even barely begins to lift his hand from your shoulder, he immediately lets it rest right back onto your shoulder.

You both sit in silence for another few moments before Ghost speaks up again, this time a bit quieter and in that same soft tone he’d used earlier, “I tried to get to you quicker. But we needed some time to get your exact location, and when we found it we were a hundred and sixty klicks away, and it was just—it took us… some time to find you.”

“It’s fine. I understand,” You respond, about to shrug but stopping yourself, not wanting to feel that aching in your shoulders again, “I don’t even know how I let myself get captured, that— that’s probably on me.”

“You didn’t let yourself get captured, you just did.”

“Well…”

“Well, what?”

“I don’t know, I just—” You take a deep breath before continuing slowly, “I didn’t let myself get captured, but I also didn’t do enough to fight against it, so I feel like technically—”

“Fuck the technicalities about how you got captured, you got captured either way, and you got thrown into a freezer,” Ghost cuts you off, talking quickly, before sighing and continuing in a softer voice once again, “Please, just let me try to be somewhat comforting for once. You know I’m bad at this, and that I never do this. So just… don’t talk about what happened like that, if not for your own mental health’s sake, at least for my attempts at making you feel better.”

You open your mouth to say something else but ultimately close your mouth and let out a deep sigh through your nose, not saying anything, letting Ghost continue to talk.

“I, for whatever reason, feel… very oddly bad for you,” Ghost poorly explains, before pausing to think for a moment then rephrasing, “Not… not as in I pity you, but as in I feel bad for you in a way that I feel like I’m at fault for what you went through even though I know I’m not at fault. It’s like empathy but… worse. Not saying empathy is bad to begin with, but this is like if empathy was bad and it became worse and—”

Ghost cuts himself off with silence and lets out a frustrated huff at his inability to put his feelings into words, and tries again, “I feel bad for you in a way that I don’t know what exactly you felt or how you felt in the moment that you were in that freezer but just the idea of you being in there without me for… I’m assuming an entire hour, if not longer, makes me feel like I failed. I don’t know what I failed at—”

Ghost quickly pauses before sighing and continuing, “Actually, no, I do. I feel like I failed at protecting you. Which is strange, because that’s technically not my job, but I felt—and still feel—obligated to protect you especially and that bothers me. Not bothers me in a sense that I don’t like you or the thought of… protecting you, but bothers me in the sense that I’m not supposed to feel like that. No amount of teasing, or borderline bullying, or anything should’ve ever made me feel obligated to think of you like— like— like…” Ghost trails off, leaving you wondering what he meant to say. He stays silent for a few moments, before you try to fill in for him.

“Like… what, a kid?” You offer, watching him shake his head negatively. You think for another moment, before trying again, “… Like your kid?”

Ghost nods affirmatively, hesitantly, and you want to scoff at the hesitation.

“And what, that’s bad to you?” You ask, your words more venomous than you intended. Ghost sighs and nonverbally shakes his head negatively before responding to you.

“Not bad in the way you’re thinking,” He answers, before elaborating upon seeing your confused expression, “It’s bad not because you’re bad, it’s bad because I’m bad.”

“… No you’re not?”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re really not,” You insist stubbornly.

“Please don’t be stubborn with me on this,” His tone makes it sound like he’s almost begging you, which is… somehow beyond terrifying to think about.

“I’m not being stubborn, I’m being honest, you’re really not.”

“But I am,” He sounds like he’s trying to make his tone sound like there’s no room for any further arguments, but he fails, and you continue to argue with him.

“No you’re not!” The whole conversation feels like a parallel to the one you’d both been having just a few minutes earlier, except this time you’re not giving up as easily, “How are you bad?”

“I’m—” Ghost pauses for a moment, not having expected that argument, and he weakly argues, “I just am!”

“You’re not, and you fucking know it!”

“Okay, well—” Ghost sighs and looks away from you, “You might not think so. That’s fine. But I know I am. If not for anything else, for you. I’d be… terrible as any sort of… I don’t know, role model to you.”

“Jokes on you, you’re already a role model to me.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” You raise an eyebrow at him, “You aren’t a terrible role model. A little emo, sure, but not terrible.”

“I’m emotionally and mentally unstable, and am terrible with empathy. I’m blunt, abrasive more than half the time, and I tell the shittiest jokes known to man. I can’t— I don’t show my face to anyone. I expect everyone to act the way I want them to. I’m almost always busy.”

“At least you’re self-aware,” You brush off, “And, for the record, I don’t know what abrasive means and I can’t tell empathy from sympathy without using Google.”

Ghost looks back at you in disbelief and stares for a moment before saying quietly, “Abrasive means harsh. And empathy is showing understanding for others while sympathy is pity.”

“I also like your shitty jokes,” You add on, “I think they’re great. They make everyone else mad so I like them. And some of them are funny.”

“You find them funny?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s…” Ghost blinks at you, eyes a little watery, before huffing out a small laugh, “That’s ridiculous, none of them are funny. I call them shitty for a reason.”

“Some of them are pretty funny.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“The Mayflower one.”

“… That one?” Ghost asks, tone humorous but still disbelieving, “Out of all the ones I’ve told, that one?”

“Yes, that one,” You insist, before pausing and holding back a smile while tacking on, “Unless you wanna tell it again to try and change my mind?”

Ghost thinks for a moment before telling the joke, “If April showers bring May flowers, what do Mayflowers bring?”

You feign cluelessness for a moment, “What do they bring?”

“Pilgrims.” The bluntness of the delivery makes you quietly snicker, much to Ghost’s surprise, the laugh not forced or anything.

“It’s still good,” You sigh, small giggles still escaping your lips.

“It’s really not,” Ghost sighs, finally retracting his hand from your shoulder to settle it on the railing of your bed and use it to help himself stand up. Once he fully stands up, he looks down at you, and one look at your face makes him want to whisk you out of bed and at least hug you, but he knows he can’t with your sore muscles and still-somewhat frozen skin.

Instead, he opts for grabbing one of your hands gently and giving it a very emotionally charged squeeze, and holding it for another few moments before letting go.

“I’m not forgetting that, by the way,” At Ghost’s confused eyes, you tack on, “You confirming earlier that you think of me as your kid.”

“That—” Ghost stammers for a moment before saying, “That was barely a confirmation, that was just— that was nothing.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. Yeah. Yep.”

“So if I told you that you saying that that was nothing is making me a little bit upset…”

“… Then I would say, out of pity, that I did mean it and that it was a confirmation.”

“Good to know,” You nod.

“But that’s only a hypothetical.”

“Right, yeah, of course.”

You both stay silent for another moment, the silence now a little less awkward, before Ghost says, “I’m gonna, uh… head out, now.”

“Alright,” You hum simply, watching as Ghost nods to you as a sort of ‘bye’ before heading towards the curtains in front of your bed.

Before he can exit, you quickly and quietly say, “Thank you, for saving me.”

He pauses, a little confused on why you chose now to thank him—and why you thanked him at all—until he quickly recalls earlier in the conversation when he’d mentioned expecting some words of gratitude.

He smiles behind his mask, the smile evident in his voice as he replies to you, “No problem.”

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dullgecko · 3 months ago

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Fabian’s gonna freak the F out when Sklonda shows them Riz baby pics “What do you mean the ball was ever an actual infant!”

He then explains about how he thought goblins were born fully formed or grown like plants or something (sorry I can’t remember what u said exactly in the ask) and Sklonda seriously and with actual concern ask Fabian if he knows where babies come from and if his parents ever gave him ‘the talk’.

Also I was thinking about baby goblins being irresistibly cute and how not a lot of people having seen them; while as their instincts told them to sklonda and pok did keep Riz mostly safely hidden away as a baby but there were times they had to for whatever reason take him out and Riz even then was a curious little guy constantly poking his head out to see the world out of whatever bundle he was in unlike most shy goblin kits.

Goblins are normally notwell liked by other species so sklonda and pok were pretty sure a baby goblin would receive the same treatment.

To their surprise it was the opposite problem, everyone found baby Riz adorable and often overstepped boundaries and personal space, treating him more like an exotic pet than an actual baby.

This all accumulates one day day when a complete stranger goes to grab and hold Riz but before they can either/both sklonda and pok are hissing and growling calling the person a number goblin swear words as they’ve backed up a safe distance away while shielding an overwhelmed stressed out Riz.

Honestly it’s lucky the stranger was noticed before they could actually touch Riz, otherwise they would have learnt from personal experience how much damage a goblins teeth and claws can actually do.

"What the fuck, he was an actual infant at some point? I thought they were grown like plants." Fabian muttered, squinting his eye at the array of pictures Sklonda had pulled from the photo album. The statement earning an amused snort from Fig who was also sitting at the table perusing the stack, occasionally snapping photos of the cuter ones to add to her personal collection. The rest of their party had left to go procure some lunch, given that they seemed to be staying there for the whole day while Riz tried to sleep off his fever.

He'd picked one of the photos up to look at it closer, flipping it over to see the date on the back since Riz was clearly eating birthday cake in the photo and making a mental note of it for later. Riz tended to be very cagey with personal details about himself so all they'd managed to work out so far was the month of his birthday, now they could actually nail down a specific day.

He jumped slightly when Sklonda put a concerned hand on his arm after the comment, lowering her voice and patting it in a way that was entirely too sincere for his likeing.

"Aw honey, did.... has no one told you were babies come from? I mean, I know your mom is a bit uhhhh-" She waved a hand near her head to indicate the general vagueness that Halarial tended to exist in "-but i thought you would have found out by now. If you have any questions just let me know okay?"

Fabian sputtered, face going red as he sat up straighter in his chair. "What? No of course I know where babies come from. Evidently not goblin babies but you know... the rest."

He waved his hand towards the window before pushing his chair back and standing, heading over to his schoolbag to dig out a book he'd clearly borrowed from the library. "I asked Riz and he said he was never an infant, and i mean the book corroborated his story so i believed him."

Fabian flipped through a few pages, finding one titled GOBLIN in all capital letters and placing it down on the table. "See, there. It says so right there."

Fig leaned across the table to read what Fabian was pointing at, wincing and lifting up the book so she could read the title on the front page. "Dude this is a monster encyclopedia.... from like, fifty years ago."

"Well, i mean, i couldnt find anything else talking about goblin children. This is the only thing that even mentioned them." Fabian floundered, going even redder when Sklonda laughed as she read through the wildly incorrect information before shutting the book and handing it back.

"Oh honey no. They're made like any other baby, more or less, our anatomy is a little different than humanoids but its still the same process. If you're that curious i'm sure i have a pamphlet around here somewhere." Sklonda had to wipe a tear from her eye from laughing so hard "Though I can understand the confusion. You've probably never even seen a kit before. They're so small we try to keep them indoors or hidden out of sight in public because a random seagull could snatch them up. Or people. Gods Riz was so cute as a toddler people were constantly trying to pick him up."

"I mean we still pick him up all the time." Fig snickered, Fabian having sat back down in his chair with a huff and crossed his arms over his chest to pout.

"Yes I'm aware. It was worse when he was little though. Despite my efforts to keep him hidden he just wanted to run around and look at everything." She dug through the album, finding a picture of Riz perched on top of one of the wooden horses on a spring down at the local park. Pok hovering nervously behind him with his hands outstretched just in case he fell.

"We also used to take him to the library a lot but got banned when one of the other parents in the reading room tried to pick Riz up. Pok made a bit of a mess of the floor when he grabbed their wrist to stop them and we got banned."

#fantasy high #riz gukgak #bad kids #fig faeth #fabian seacaster

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riotwritesthings · 11 months ago

Text

Unrequited Dreams

WinterIron, M, 3.5k - Soulmate AU, Angst, hopeful ending

I can finally share my piece from the Reforged WinterIron Zine! I'm so excited, I'd had the idea for this fic for years and it was delightful to finally bring it to life. And now I get to share!

Thank you to all the mods over at @reforgedzine for making this happen!

~~~

The night before his thirteenth birthday Bucky is so excited he can barely fall asleep, because he’s going to have his first dream about his soulmate.

The anticipation has been building for weeks, for years; his family has taken to fondly rolling their eyes because Bucky can't talk about anything else. He can’t wait to find out something, anything about his soulmate, about how they'll meet for the first time. He can't wait to start trying to make sense of the hazy details the dream will leave him with.

In the morning, Bucky wakes up sobbing, because now he knows that his soulmate is gorgeous and graceful. That knowledge is crystal clear even if few other details are.

And now, Bucky knows that he's going to put a gun in his soulmate's face and pull the trigger.

Thirteen year old Tony wakes up feeling cold and hollow except for a sharp ache settling deep in his chest.

Apparently, it was stupid to be excited, just like Howard always said. Because now he knows that their first meeting involves his soulmate pushing him away.

Literally.

Tony knows that dreams are funny things. He read all about soulmate dreams and how easy it is to misinterpret them, how they tend to exaggerate, back when he was dumb enough to look forward to them. But he would swear that the shove felt hard enough to knock the air from his lungs, felt strong enough to throw him clear across the room.

The ache in his chest lingers the entire day, and every morning that he wakes up from the same dream, the pain is agonizingly fresh, digging a little deeper.

So Tony grows up and learns how to push people away first. He tells himself that when he meets his soulmate, he’ll be ready.

Bucky never tells anyone about the dream, even when his parents give him concerned looks. Eventually people stop asking.

Every time he has the dream, Bucky remembers a little more. His soulmate is dressed in mostly black, moving gracefully and carelessly through a room in chaos. His soulmate has gorgeous eyes and a wicked, beautiful smirk.

Every time, Bucky shoots his soulmate in the face and wakes up nauseous.

At least when he joins the army, no one else talks about their dreams either. Most nights, Bucky is too exhausted to dream at all, and it’s almost a relief when nightmares start to overtake the few times that he does.

Most nights, Tony drinks until he falls into a short, restless sleep, just to avoid the one dream he doesn't want to have.

He doesn’t want to see his soulmate’s cold, emotionless eyes. He doesn’t want the all-too-brief feeling of his soulmate's hand beneath his own before he's shoved away.

When Tony does dream, it’s of clenched fists, feeling frustrated, helpless. Feeling like his entire life is falling apart around him, and it’s all so stupid.

So he refuses to figure out any other details because he’s already going to have to live through it at some point. He doesn't want to know if that fleeting contact of hand against hand is a first meeting, doesn’t bother trying to remember anything about the large, bright room the dream takes place in or the people around them. He doesn’t care if it's a charity gala or something else. None of it matters.

Tony wakes up and drinks more.

He builds and smiles for the press. He does his best to not lose the few people he has, and tells himself that he won’t care when his soulmate doesn’t want him.

Sometimes he even believes it.

The Winter Soldier doesn’t dream at all.

Not during the short, fitful sleep he gets on missions. Certainly not while he’s frozen.

He forgets.

When the moment finally happens in real life, they don’t recognize it.

Bucky isn't in his right mind. He’s barely clinging to awareness past the hold of the conditioning in a room in chaos. He doesn't recognize the graceful motions of the gorgeous man who jumps into the fight, or the moment he points his gun in the man's face.

The bullet doesn't connect, and when Tony doesn't die, the Winter Soldier rips his hand away from Tony’s, shoves him across the room and knocks the air out of his lungs.

Tony isn’t thinking about the brief contact of his hand on Barnes’ over the barrel of a gun, of Barnes’ hand splayed across his chest. He’s thinking about the fact that his life is falling apart, and that he needs to stop a rampaging Winter Soldier. He doesn’t have time to think about the splinter itching at the back of his mind.

They don’t even notice when they stop having the dreams, after that moment.

Tony is alone in his workshop, in the too-empty compound, when it hits him that he doesn’t even remember the last time he dreamt of his soulmate.

It’s not just because he barely sleeps, not just because when he does dream it’s of his friends falling from the sky, of cities and worlds crashing to the ground. He’s spent so much time trying to ignore the dream, apparently he’s even been ignoring the fact that it’s gone.

It’s a stupid thing to be upset about.

Tony has always known how they would feel about him, known they wouldn’t want anything to do with him, but he still has to sit on the cold tile floor as his legs give out. He blinks back tears, wondering how far he must have fallen, if he doesn’t even deserve a soulmate who pushes him away anymore, doesn’t deserve anyone.

He wonders if his soulmate dreams about someone else now.

Bucky is in Wakanda, trying to find peace, when a doctor asks about the dream.

For a second Bucky doesn’t remember. And then he does. And he can’t breathe.

He doesn’t dream much anymore. When he does, it’s always nightmares. He hasn’t dreamt of his soulmate since before the war.

Before the Soldier.

And Bucky realizes he’s probably already killed his soulmate, and doesn’t even remember it. Everything goes fuzzy.

No one asks about the dreams again. Bucky has so many regrets to move past, he just shoves this one down with all the others. His soulmate is probably long gone. There’s no need to think about it.

So, he tries not to.

Having everyone back at the compound is exactly as awkward-as-hell as Tony thought it would be. It only makes him feel a little better that he’s clearly not the only one feeling it.

The reasoning is sound, the threat is coming, but that doesn’t mean Tony has to be happy about it.

But he smiles, shakes hands when he has to, and reminds himself this is for the best. He can bury his hurt feelings for the good of the world. He can be an adult, pretend everything is fine. He shows everyone to the residential wing, despite most of them already knowing their way around, and doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes as he says to make themselves at home.

Slowly, they start putting the team back together. There’s lots of talks about trust and honesty that feel hollow and stilted, but Tony supposes it’s progress.

They still work well together in the field, but that was never the Avengers’ problem.

Around the compound, though, the split remains obvious. Everyone seems torn between walking on eggshells and the urge to act like nothing’s changed even though it has, Tony among them.

The different sides of the war still give each other wide berths in the hallways, and Steve still stands protectively between Tony and his shadow of a best friend when they happen to run into each other in the gym.

Tony spins on his heel with a lazy wave, doesn’t even care if he’s too obvious. For just a moment, Tony’s gaze meets Barnes’ as he turns.

For just that moment, Tony finds himself caught in that deep blue stare before the doors slide closed behind him.

Bucky spends a lot of time wandering the compound.

He’s aware everyone thinks it’s a paranoid-perimeter-check thing, which it partially is. But it's also just him enjoying the novelty that he can spend his time wandering aimlessly. He can go where he wants when he wants, never has to sleep unless he chooses to.

He’s still getting used to it; remembering how to enjoy the freedom.

Which is how he runs into Stark in the kitchen at three AM, when he’s trying to outrun his nightmares. Tony is apparently making pancakes.

Bucky freezes in the doorway as they stare at each other. Just when he’s preparing to back away, Stark’s lips curl into a tiny smile. Stark tips his head towards the rest of the kitchen, obviously inviting him to stay instead. Bucky grabs an apple and sits at his usual spot at the far end of the table, trying to look comfortable, and it’s somehow easier than he’s expecting.

It’s only a couple minutes before Stark finishes making and neatly stacking his pancakes on a plate. Then he dumps everything in the dishwasher and shoots Bucky only the briefest look before leaving with his plate of food.

Bucky tells himself to avoid the kitchen around that time. He should give Stark some space, because he’s so clearly uncomfortable with everyone being back.

But two sleepless nights later, Bucky’s feet carry him on a familiar path without thought.

Stark is making waffles this time. He barely even looks up as Bucky takes up the same space at the table. Stark glances at him again as he’s preparing to leave, at the power bar Bucky’s been picking at, then transfers one waffle to a smaller plate. He sets the small plate on the table, just within Bucky’s reach. Then to Bucky’s surprise, Stark sits at the counter instead of leaving.

Bucky pulls the plate closer, and they eat in total silence. They’re not even facing each other and Bucky is actually a little relieved. He doesn’t know what to say to anyone these days, much less Stark.

It’s the first time they’ve done more than pass in the hallways, but it’s not as uncomfortable as it should be. When Tony stands to leave with a wave and a small, warm smile, Bucky finds himself disappointed.

As the weeks go by, Tony notices Barnes getting more comfortable around the compound, sometimes with Steve but most often alone.

Not that Tony lets himself wonder why he cares, why he scrolls through security feeds of the hallways like he needs to check on Barnes. It’s just morale has been slowly improving, and that’s the last bridge Tony has to mend. Or, the last bridge to build from scratch over a giant chasm, in this case.

He’s coming back late from a charity event, a little tipsy with plans to head to the lab, but gets sidetracked when he passes through the living room and realizes Barnes is on the couch watching Star Trek. Tony pauses for a second, filled with nostalgia, but he tells himself to leave Barnes to his marathon in peace.

To his surprise, Barnes looks at him with a tiny smile, unsure but devoid of suspicion or impatience. Tony sinks into an armchair, asking himself why. They proceed to watch four and a half episodes in silence.

Tony wakes up to Steve and Sam clomping through after their morning run, slumped down in the chair with a blanket carefully draped over him.

It becomes a habit, and Barnes becomes Bucky, even if they haven’t actually spoken yet.

So maybe Tony has FRIDAY alert him when Bucky is queuing up the next episode so he can head to the living room. After the first time, though, Bucky waits for him to arrive before hitting play and greets him with a smile that gets brighter every time.

Tony doesn’t let himself wonder about the why’s. Like why he spends so much time simply existing in the same room as Bucky, why that doesn’t feel awkward at all. Or why it seems to be the only thing that helps Tony ignore the empty pit in his chest.

One night, Tony realizes he hasn’t seen Bucky in a while. There’s been no marathon nights despite being due to start Next Generation. He tells himself it’s not creepy to flip through security feeds., He’s just curious how Bucky is spending his sleepless nights now.

Tony’s heart leaps into his throat when he finally locates Bucky on the roof of the hanger, standing on the ledge. He’s breathless by the time he makes it to the hangar, heart racing and legs shaking from the sprint. He doesn’t even know what he thinks is happening, except…

Bucky looks at him with wide, exhausted eyes when Tony bursts through the door, and he could swear Bucky’s shoulders drop in relief. Tony doesn’t have time to think. He just starts talking, because Bucky looks so haunted, and Tony knows a thing or two about distractions.

They’re still on the roof when the sun comes up., And Bucky has to stop pointing out all the constellations he can remember while Tony fills him in on the new star science he’s missed.

After the roof, something shifts.

Bucky can’t put his finger on exactly what it is, or even when it happens. But that one stilted conversation about the stars becomes less stilted conversations about whatever’s on TV becomes friendly debates about the merits of different toppings as they make pizza at midnight.

Before Bucky knows it, he feels like he’s home.

He finds a groove with his new life and starts branching out, starts connecting with the rest of the team. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be a person. To actually interact when he passes people in the hallway and eat with a group.

To be more than a ghost, to be part of something good.

Always though, he gravitates back to Tony. Because Tony actually makes him laugh and it fills a void in his chest Bucky has long gotten used to. Because Tony is always trying to do better and god Bucky wants to learn how.

Because when Tony’s been on an inventing binge, Bucky can trick him into taking a nap by putting on home improvement shows, and it makes Bucky feel like he’s doing something right. The team smirks when they walk in on Tony drooling on his shoulder, but it’s not like that.

He recognizes the look Steve and Natasha start to give him, smug and knowing. And fine, maybe Tony would have been exactly his type, before. But it’s not like that.

Because Bucky is the man who killed his soulmate. He doesn’t let himself think about that kind of thing.

When Bucky decides that he wants to officially join the Avengers, Tony leaps at the chance to make him new gear.

He does the same for the entire team, after all, making sure everyone’s safe. It doesn’t make Bucky special. No matter what the wide grins from Rhodey try to imply.

Tony just loves a challenge, loves the excuse to build something new. So maybe he gets more input from Bucky than anyone else, offers to help Bucky test all the gear on top of team training, but it’s not an excuse to spend more time together. He just sees what Bucky is trying to do, and he’s all too familiar with that struggle.

Despite the knowing looks from everyone, it doesn’t mean anything that he lets Bucky into the lab to see the prototypes, even if it is Tony’s only place of solitude in the compound. Even if eventually Bucky just hangs out there with him for hours.

Tony keeps telling himself it means nothing.

Watching Bucky try to teach DUM-E checkers is the final straw, though. Warmth fills Tony’s chest so fast and hard that he can’t breathe around it. And he finally admits that maybe it all means something.

But Tony is the man who doesn’t deserve a soulmate, who never even got to meet them. Who’s not sure he’d want to meet them anymore, as guilty as it makes him feel.

Maybe he can’t lie to himself anymore. Maybe he’s completely in love, but Tony knows better than to say anything.

Days spent in the lab with Tony run together in the best possible way. It’s a blur of playing with the bots, watching Tony create the future, and trying to convince him maybe the new reboots of Star Trek do have something to offer.

Bucky knows what a privilege it is to be here, to see Tony at his most relaxed and occasionally unhinged. He tries not to let it go to his head, give him ideas, even though every day he falls more in love. He’s even getting used to the pangs of guilt over the soulmate he should miss.

Until one day they’re watching a movie on the lumpy couch in Tony’s lab. When it’s revealed that Tony called the plot twist from the very beginning, he smirks at Bucky at just the right angle.

Bucky’s heart drops into the floor.

He knows that smirk. He’s seen it a thousand times in a thousand dreams, even if he hasn’t had it in years, he remembers.

And of course it’s Tony, who’s smart and gorgeous, graceful and just the right amount of wicked. Who Bucky already loves so much he can’t breathe sometimes.

Tony, who he still can’t possibly deserve.

So Bucky says nothing, as happy as he thinks he’ll ever be. Tony is here, alive. Bucky’s soulmate is too smart and too tough to die. Bucky gets to watch the way he laughs when their friends do something stupid, to watch Tony’s back in fights while they both try to do better.

He’ll never get to taste the edges of Tony’s smile, but he shoves that aside. Tony is alive. That’s more than enough.

Tony’s first thought when he wakes half-buried under rubble is that he’s officially over alien invasions. The second is that the power of the suit fading in and out, causing the concerned shouting over the comms to cut in and out, is really not helping with his throbbing head.

The aliens swarm into what’s left of the nightclub, stealing his attention before Tony can work up the breath to answer, and all the suit’s questionable power has to go to blasting the ones that get too close. The oversized bug-like soldiers just keep coming, and Tony starts to wonder if he’d be better off ditching the deadweight of the armor.

But he’s not sure he can make a run for it. His head is spinning and he’s dimly aware of blood filling the suit, and the aliens are still coming—

There’s a roar of approaching gunfire and then Bucky is bursting into the destroyed building, wielding a large knife and the only gun Tony has built in years.

And the thing is…Tony knows those movements.

He knows that brutal fighting style, the blank rage in those blue eyes. He recognizes the wrath of the Winter Soldier. He’d been dreaming of it most of his life.

Tony can’t believe he never put it together before, because of course it’s Bucky. Resilient and brave and so kind, Bucky who still deserves so much better than Tony. Of course.

Maybe it’s just easier to recognize him with unconsciousness trying to drag Tony under. Maybe Tony’s already dreaming.

He must be, because suddenly Bucky is leaning over him. His eyes are warm, and scared. Tony doesn’t know this part of the dream, doesn’t know what happens next.

Everything is going black. Tony struggles to find his words, to plead. To beg not to be shoved away again.

Bucky sits unmoving beside Tony’s hospital bed for three days, even though all he wants to do is run.

He saw the recognition in Tony’s eyes, he knows that Tony knows. He wants to leave before Tony asks him to, because what else could Tony want from a soulmate like him?

But that’s not what Tony had said. Tony asked him to stay while sounding so scared, so resigned. Like he knew Bucky wouldn’t and it was already breaking his heart.

So, Bucky stays.

He’s staring at his fists, trying to stop himself from wondering, when the heart monitor starts beeping triple time, giving away that Tony is awake. Bucky jerks his gaze up to meet Tony’s big brown eyes, watches the flashes of fear and hope that go through them.

Bucky knows he must look terrible, hasn’t slept or shaved in days. He’s barely eaten, and he can feel the lines of worry set into his face. But Tony’s still looking at him with something like awe, just because he’s here.

When Tony smiles nervously the wave of hope that crashes over Bucky nearly overwhelms him, could crush him beneath it.

Bucky smiles back.

#my fic #winteriron #starkbucks #bucky/tony #bringing angst to the soulmate party #IM SO EXCITE TO SHAREEEEE

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2-the-moon-and-2-saturn · 2 months ago

Text

who we are (and what we’ve done — chapter 10

Events unfold painstakingly slowly.

Then again, that’s probably to be expected when one selects vaginal delivery as their preferred method of childbirth.

If she were using her logical brain, Lena would remember the countless books she read, both from terrestrial and Kryptonian literature, regarding this very moment that will change her life forever. She would think about the fact that these so-called ‘natural’ births (though at this moment, it feels like there is nothing remotely natural about it) typically result in a faster recovery time, which increases her chances of being active sooner and in less pain in the future.

If she were thinking with her emotional brain, Lena would remind herself that she actually chose this, among other things, because she did want the experience, because she wanted to be with her baby through everything since the very beginning, and something in her made this kind of birthing process just feel right.

But none of those scenarios are relevant right now, because Lena does not feel like she is thinking with any brain at all. In fact, her entire brain seems to be dedicated to signaling to her that pushing a baby past her vagina is supposed to hurt (as if she could ever forget).

So all of her well-researched arguments and all of her well-thought out reasons and all of her well-meaning wife’s attempts at comfort suddenly are irrelevant at the momentz Lena finds herself wanting to scream out a litany of all the swear words known to humans and Kryptonians alike, and curse nature or a god or something else that decided that in order to procreate, a person must go through this.

She tries to ignore the fact that the citizens of Argo actually advocated for her to just use the matrix, as has been done for so long, it’s become tradition. Nevermind that Kara offered to carry the child and Lena decided against it.

Right now, she doesn’t even care about the warm and cozy look they’d shared when she first went into labor, knowing that they were going to become moms, together, and nothing about it might ever feel real. Nothing else is relevant, because she’s bringing new fucking life into this world and so she gets to be as bitter and snappy and irrational as she’d like.

And then she is born; six pounds and two ounces of dreams Lena had never dared hope for. Pruney pink skin and fuzzy dark hair, the evidence of a life she had never thought to be meant for her. It’s not like motherhood has ever been a particular vocation of Lena’s, who always thought of herself as a fun aunt rather than a person who raises a child- she definitely has other ambitions in life.

But motherhood is still something she’s wanted, and can’t really believe her little girl is finally here.

Kara cuts the umbilical cord and the nurse cleans their daughter up, then places her in Lena’s arms.Such a beautiful thing — the way this tiny baby with powerful lungs that create the most ear-piercing screams simply becomes entirely content just because of skin-to-skin contact with her. Lena. Lena, who has never felt unconditionally, effortlessly, important to anyone.

The details of what happens next are hazy, probably due to the exhaustion of a seventeen-hour long labor. She thinks she feels lips on her forehead, and maybe the image of Kara’s megawatt smile in contrast with the tears in her eyes, her voice whispering sweet everythings like, “You did it”, “I love you so much”, and, “We’re officially moms”.

There’s something she’s receiving guidance on, and then her baby has latched onto her nipple, and then Lena is falling into the most peaceful sleep she has ever had.

She doesn’t dream — that wasn’t really even in the realm of possibility, considering all that her body has been through in the past day and the remnants of pain medicine in her veins.

She doesn’t dream, but in the next couple of days, she will imagine that if she did, the contents of it would, for a change, be very pleasant. That they would be a compilation of all the best, happiest moments in her life during the past five years.

Kara on one knee, flushed cheeks and held breath

as she waited for the answer that would solidify a bond they’d already known, in their hearts, to be true long before they actually realized it.

The butterflies in her own stomach when the woman she loves kissed her, deep and soft and all-encompassing, in the middle of the terrain where a house would be built to suit their every need. A place to grow old in. A place to belong. A place to call her home.

The glow of the stars when they left Earth, because Krypton’s technology would enable them to safely make a child from two ovocytes and, furthermore, guarantee Lena wouldn’t suffer with the super-strong kicks, once the time for those came.

Allura and Zor-El’s excitement to see her and introduce her to the society of Argo as the brilliant scientist who captured their daughter’s heart.

The moment two ovocytes became a zygote, and that cell split into two, split into four, split into a baby grown inside of her, a baby she loved from the moment they decided to have her.

Kara’s smile. Kara’s smile. Kara’s smile — all along and, most importantly, always matching her own.

Lena will have time to think about all of that in the days to come, when her breasts hurt from being fed on and her head hurts from a new kind of sleep deprivation and her heart hurts because she never thought it could contain this much happiness.

She will reflect on it, and all that’s led her to this, and she will find herself thinking, for the first time, while looking at this little bundle of hope, that she’s managed to build a beautiful life for herself, and that the best is yet to come.

And she will smile as she cries about that, too.

#supergirl #lena luthor #supercorp #supergirl cw #kara danvers #supercorp fanfic #supergirl fanfic #katie mcgrath #kmcg #supercorp ao3

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amakumos · 2 years ago

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bluer birthday — yang jungwon.

synopsis. one last picture means one last chance to travel back in time to bring your dead boyfriend, yang jungwon back. but when you go back in time, you find yourself landing mere seconds before the crash that took your boyfriend’s life. with only a little time to spare, you find yourself needing to make a decision.

genre. angst (happy birthday won i’m sorry), alternate ending to blue birthday (please read that fic before this one or it won’t make sense), inspired by the tv show blue birthday

pairing. non idol! jungwon x fem! reader

word count. 2.4k

warnings. major character death, car crash, blood, ambulances, swearing

authors note. this is long overdue😅 i was supposed to post this like a week after i posted the original blue birthday fic, but… here i am now with the alternate ending! happy birthday jungwon 😅 and don’t worry i didn’t just post angst for his bday😭 there is a sequel to kiss and cry that is full of fluff if you’d like to read that too !! but in the meantime, enjoy the alternate ending to blue birthday ^_^

ONE. present day, 2026.

You hold the last photo in your hands as Youngeun looks at you nervously.

Your hands tremble a little as you look at the picture – you know that this is your last shot at bringing Jungwon back. You have tampered with the past, present and the future too much, and you know that there could be serious consequences. Regardless, you would do anything for Jungwon.

“You only have one chance,” Youngeun tells you.

You let out a shaky breath as you look at her. “Yeah. I do. This is my last shot.”

“When you burn the picture, it should bring you back to when the photo was taken, right?” Youngeun asks, and you nod. At least, that’s what happened the last couple of times when you went back in time. You can only hope that the same thing happens this time.

“Do you need any extra details?” Youngeun asks.

“No,” you say, gazing at the photo. “It’s okay.”

You remember every single second. How could you not, when you watched the person that you cared about the most die right in front of your very eyes. Every year on your birthday, you are reminded of the scene, and you want nothing but to erase it from your memory.

“Good luck,” Youngeun says. “We’ll be waiting for you when you both are back.”

“Thank you, Youngeun.” you smile at your friend. “I think I’m going to need it.”

“Don’t hurt yourself while you’re there,” she tells you.

You nod, before you light the candle, taking one last look at the picture before holding it above the fire, letting the photo burn it away.

TWO. the day of the accident, 2021.

You open your eyes walking across a street that looks all too familiar.

You turn to look at who’s standing next to you, and it’s Jungwon. But something doesn’t seem right. The photo didn’t bring you back to when the photo was taken – you woke up in a completely different moment from the same day, and it’s only when you see the name of the street when you realise what’s going on.

Jungwon is mere seconds away from getting killed from that car.

Your eyes widen in fear, shaking your head. “No, no, no.” you mumble, trying not to startle Jungwon. You look to your right, and you see the dreaded car plate that is engraved into your memory. 52 3018.

You take a quick look at your watch, and it’s like time slows down when you read the time on your watch. 7:07, and there’s 30 seconds until the crash. The car is moving faster and faster towards you and Jungwon, and you know you can’t just yank Jungwon’s arm and pull you both away from the crash.

Your heart sinks as you come to the realisation that it’s either you, or him.

And you can’t lose him again.

The car moves closer and closer, and you know in just a few seconds, Jungwon’s about to be hit. “Wonie, I’m sorry.” you say hurriedly, blinking back the tears in your eyes before you push him towards the opposite side of the street, out of harm’s way.

Flashing lights. Loud car honks. And this time, it is your body that the car collided with.

You fall to the ground, feeling nothing but pain everywhere in your body — you’re bleeding, you’re sure of it. You pant as you lie there, and you hear Jungwon’s loud scream when he realises what just happened to you. “No, no, no.” Jungwon shakes his head as he rushes over to be by your side.

“(Name)? (Name)? Look at me, look at me please.” Jungwon says, his hands clutching yours desperately.

You look up at him weakly, with a small, sad smile. “I’m sorry, Won.”

“Please don’t leave me, (Name). Just hold on, we’re getting help.” Jungwon says, his lower lip quivering as he holds onto you tightly. His hands are stained with blood, your blood, but he is too focused on your state to notice.

“There’s no use, Jungwon. You and I both know I’m not going to make it out alive.” you choke out, and Jungwon shakes his head. “You’ll make it. I know you will.” he says, and you smile sadly.

“I know I won’t. Jungwon… I know how this ends. I’m from the future.” you say, and you can feel yourself getting weaker and weaker. “I’m the (Name) from 5 years later. It was originally you who died in this crash. I went back in time to try and save you… but I failed.”

“Why didn’t you let it be me, (Name)? It should’ve been me.” Jungwon says, holding back a choked sob. “Why?”

“I couldn’t lose you again.”

“But now I’m losing you.”

“I know… I’m sorry. I wanted it to end with you and me being able to spend more time together. Fate wasn’t in our favour, I guess.” you say, and Jungwon knows that he’s going to lose you soon. Your breathing is more laboured, and he knows you’re fighting to keep your eyes open, because if you close them, you don’t know if you’ll ever get to open them again.

“You’ll be okay, (Name). You’ll make it.”

Jungwon says it as if he’s just trying to convince himself. He knows deep in his heart that he’ll be losing you today, and there’s nothing he can do to try and reverse it. But oh, how he wished he could.

“Can you just… talk to me?” you say, looking at him, tears brimming your eyes. Jungwon squeezes your hand, brushing your hair out of your face — and that is when he realises that your blood is on his hands.

Tears roll down his cheeks, but he tells himself he shouldn’t start properly sobbing until you go.

“Okay.” he says. “Today is your birthday. I was going to give you a surprise party. Intak, Youngeun, Hikaru, and all your other friends would be there, and I even got Maeumi a party hat for you.”

You smile at his words.

“I have plans for tomorrow, too. We’ll go to the Han River, have a picnic, and watch a movie on my iPad. We could walk Maeumi at the park, too.”

Jungwon pulls one tiny box out of his pocket. “This is your birthday gift, he tells you, opening the box. There are two silver rings inside, and Jungwon pulls one of them out.

“I got us promise rings.” he says, and your smile gets wider. He slips it onto your finger, and you smile, trying your best to look at it even though you can feel yourself starting to slip away.

“I love you.” he says, blinking back tears. “I always will.”

“I love you too,” you whisper back, and Jungwon tries his best to smile. He has to be strong in this moment for you. He doesn’t want the last thing you see to be him sobbing. He wants you to feel at peace.

“I’ll find my way back to you.” Jungwon whispers, bringing your hand up to his face to kiss the promise ring. There’s a small smile on your lips, and then your hand falls limp.

You’re gone.

And that’s when Jungwon completely loses it.

He lets the dam break. He’s crying and screaming like he’s never before. It’s right then when the ambulance arrives, and when the paramedics tell him that he needs to let go, he just drowns out the sound, with the only thing he can hear being his own cries.

Jungwon is forcefully separated from you when one of the paramedics pulls him away from your body, as he kicks, screams and writhes in the man’s grip. The paramedic sets him down on a nearby park bench, patting Jungwon on the back as the boy cries.

“I know no matter what I say, it still won’t take away the pain you are feeling. It’s very hard to lose someone, especially someone who you held very close to your heart.” the paramedic says. “But, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“It was supposed to be me.” Jungwon sobs. “I should’ve been the one who got hit. And now I’ve lost her.”

“She saved your life. She’s a hero.” the paramedic tells him.

“I thought we would have more time together. It’s her birthday today. Or… was.” Jungwon chokes out through sobs. You’re gone now, so he supposed that he has to refer to you in past tense. But he doesn’t want to. “We were going to her surprise party that I organised for her.”

“I’m sure she would have loved it.” the paramedic tells him.

“I wish she could’ve seen it.” Jungwon says, wiping his tears with his sleeve. He then notices that your blood is still on his hands, and his sobs get even louder.

The paramedic pats his back in an attempt to comfort him. “You’ll be okay, kid. You’ll be okay.”

Despite what the paramedic says, Jungwon feels like he won’t be okay.

He doesn’t know if he ever will be.

THREE. present day, 2027.

“Happy birthday, Jungwon!”

It has been 6 years since you left. Jungwon has never liked his birthday celebrations after your passing, only indulging in them because his friends spent so much time preparing it all for him.

“Thank you guys.” Jungwon says, mustering up a smile.

Intak tells him to blow out his candles. “Make a wish!”

Jungwon wishes for you to come back.

It has been his wish every single year since your passing. Yet, every single year, it doesn’t seem to come true. Jungwon knows that he should move on — it’s what you would have wanted, but he finds that he can’t.

Every hour, every minute, every second, his mind is consumed with the thought of you. Wondering if he can bring you back, thinking about all the fun things that you two could do if you were still here, and praying to whoever’s up there to take pity on him, and bring you back.

“I got you a little something, Jungwon.” Intak says, pulling out a gift bag from behind him. He hands it to Jungwon, who accepts it with a small smile. “Thank you, Intak.” he says.

He opens the bag to reveal a box. It’s a necklace, with a butterfly chain necklace. “It was (Name)‘s. I got it for her birthday last year, before she decided to… you know. Go back in time. I figured that you might want it.”

Jungwon looks at the necklace with a sad smile. “She really liked it, didn’t she?”

“Loved it.”

“I know every year doesn’t get easier for you,” Intak says, and Jungwon nods. “It doesn’t get easier for us either. We didn’t know she had this whole plan to bring you back… until she wa gone. And I say this every year, but you’ve got to stop blaming yourself for her passing.”

“I know.” Jungwon replies. “It’s hard not to, though.”

“I get it.” Intak says, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Healing is a process. It takes time.”

“I got you something too,” Youngeun suddenly pipes up. She pulls out a box from behind her, setting it on the table. She pushes it towards Jungwon, who opens it hesitantly.

There are a bunch of film pictures of you and Jungwon. They look like the one he took back in high school, but since he’s in it, he couldn’t possibly have taken it.

“You were not the only photographer in high school.” Youngeun says. “These are photos that our lovely Hikaru took of you two. We found her old camera, and then we found these photos and got them developed. Thought you would like to see them.”

Jungwon smiles as he flicks through the photos, each of them bringing him back in time. He sees picture after picture of you looking at him with the brightest smile, your eyes practically sparkling as you gaze at him lovingly.

Jungwon would give anything to see you look at him like that again.

Every single year, on not only your birthday but also his, he has blamed himself for your passing. You had gone back in time to try and stop the event that had killed him in the original timeline, but it only led to that event killing you instead.

He desperately wishes for you to still be here. Every birthday celebration reminds him of the one that he had organised just before your passing, the one that you were mere minutes away from seeing before your life was taken.

The healthy thing for Jungwon to do is move on.

So on the 6th anniversary of your death, and also your birthday, Jungwon heads to your grave, holding a small cake in a box and a bouquet of cherry blossoms – your favourite flowers. He sits down on the grass, pulling the photos that Hikaru had taken back in high school out of his bag.

“It’s been 6 years since you left.” Jungwon says out loud. He hopes you can hear him. “It’s also your birthday.” He opens the box, taking out the cake. He takes a lighter out of his bag, lighting the candle. “Happy birthday, (Name).”

He sings you the happy birthday song quietly, setting the cake down on the lid of the box. “I miss you. I hope you’re celebrating your birthday happily.” he says, a bittersweet smile on his lips.

“Every year doesn’t get easier,” he confesses. “Is this how you felt before you had gone back in time to try and save me?”

He asks a question he knows he won’t get an answer to.

“I would do anything to bring you back. Maybe I should try what you did. Maybe Hikaru’s pictures can bring me back in time too.” Jungwon says, looking at the picture. The flame on the candle flickers, and for a split second, Jungwon debates on burning one of the photos to see if it can bring him back.

He stays silent for a little while, staring sadly at your headstone. There’s a bunch of other flowers placed around it, which Jungwon deduces must be from your family and other friends who came earlier.

Jungwon takes a look at the promise ring on his finger. For a second, the candle on the cake flickers, and for a split second, Jungwon sees a photo being held above a fire, with the picture being slowly burnt away. He blinks quickly a couple of times, and the vision is gone.

He looks at the candle once again, and then he looks at the picture held in his hands.

Without a second thought, Jungwon holds the picture above the flame.

The only thought in Jungwon’s mind as he watches the picture burn away is that he hopes that his birthday wish for the past 6 years can come true.

#enhypenwriters #kflixnet #enhypennetwork #k-labels #enhypen angst #enhypen oneshots #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #enhypen au #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #jungwon angst #jungwon oneshots #jungwon imagines #jungwon reactions #jungwon au #jungwon scenarios #jungwon x reader

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philtstone · 6 months ago

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psych crew of your choice, "putting a hand over the other's mouth to shut them up"

shoutout to zainab and bbc's the musketeers for inspiring the chaos that is fic

The number of times Gus has had to smack a hand over his best friend's mouth in the last twenty four hours is really starting to get unhygienic.

It doesn’t help that even while in the throes of crisis, Shawn’s first instinct is always, without fail, to stick his tongue out and lick Gus’s palm. This was true when they were six and is still somehow true now at age thirty. While Shawn’s phone rings – immediately proceeding the third time they’ve successfully panic-crashed back into the Psych office before Shawn can blurt out something that gets them both jailed – Gus tells him off. It doesn’t matter that Shawn could be finally losing his last marble due to the machinations of cosmic irony; Gus refuses to be licked another time.

“You know how disgusting it is to have your spit on my hand when you literally just threw up two hours ago?” Gus asks, over the irritating jingle of Shawn’s ringtone going wild on the table. Shawn himself has already collapsed backwards onto the couch. Well, really, he kind of tripped. There’s an old pillow pet on the floor that both of them have forgotten to pick up for like, two months, and Shawn’s ability to keep his balance vacated the premises about six hours ago when, mere moments after Gus entered the office, thinking it was going to be a totally normal day for them, his best friend grabbed him by the shoulders – looking vaguely ill, definitely sweaty, and concerningly flushed – and declared, with no little amount of panic in his voice, that he might have actually turned into a real psychic.

A recent phenomenon, of course. Like, just within the last twelve hours. They don’t have any concrete proof, other than the fact that Shawn is convinced he saw, in technicolor, the exact details of a murder that he has encountered absolutely zero evidence for while he was trapped in a supply closet (Gus has no idea how he got there), and, also, had an extremely vivid and detailed vision of himself and Juliet, married.

This last thing happened about twenty minutes ago.

Shawn’s spiraling.

“Okay,” Gus had said, an eventful nine hours earlier. “Explain to me exactly what it is you’ve been seeing.”

“When?” Shawn wailed in a high-pitched approximation of Robin Williams’s Mrs. Doubtfire voice. Gus, perhaps unwisely, brushed this off as only slightly less normal than standard Shawn behavior.

“Yesterday!” Gus said. Shawn had explained – in between three bouts of nausea and one ten minute stint in which he recited all of Ally Sheedy’s lines in St. Elmo’s Fire from memory – that the weirdness started in the middle of the previous night. “What makes you think you’re – seeing things?”

“Because,” Shawn moaned, “I can’t remember why they’re in my head! Or when they’re from. Gus, I woke up at two a.m. and my head was so fuzzy and dizzy that I threw up! And then after I threw up I saw a man, standing in broad daylight, eating two cherry-filled cruller donuts and sporting the world’s ugliest toupe, and then another man falling off the edge of a pier, the pier, it was that pier right outside, but I can’t remember actually seeing either of those two things! Except they’re in my head, Gus! I swear to God they happened! But when?” Shawn, at this point, took a deep long breath, swayed a bit on the spot, and added, “and then I thought maybe to clear my head I should microwave and eat a frozen burrito.”

“Let me guess,” Gus said, in only mild distress, “then you threw up again?”

“Oh my God, how did you know? Gus. Gus. Are you turning into a real psychic too?”

“Man, I don’t know! And, wait a minute, at what point did you end up in the supply closet?”

At this, Shawn put both hands up to his head and looked vaguely deranged. “Gus … there’s no supply closet in the Psych office.”

Oh, boy, Gus had thought.

READ MORE ON AO3

#my writing #touches prompt meme #psych #shawn spencer #burton guster #juliet o'hara #henry spencer #shawn x juliet #shules #shawn x gus #psych 2006 #its actually criminal that there arent 12 more versions of this fic out there

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tpato · 4 months ago

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TUMBLR. I need your help. I’m calling all the wattpaders. A while/year-ish ago, I was (don’t make fun of me😭) on Wattpad looking for a Newt (TMR) fanfic, as one does, and I stumbled across one with a plot SO absolutely FANTASTIC. And then I got logged out of my old account and I can’t find it. I just remembered it, and PLEASE. MY FELLAS. HELP ME FIND IT.

Basically, it follows this girl who lives in the maze. I think she has like a memory of her parents and like they put her there or smth (maybe work for WICKED?) I don’t remember. But she lives in like this cardboard box thingy in the maze before any of the boys come up into the glade. She hops the walls and I think she like eats grievers or something IDK OK.

THE MOST KEY DETAIL, THAT I MISS THE MOST AND NEED TO RE-READ. She has a super freaking cute little friend. He’s not a griever, and I don’t think he’s a beetle blade. But he’s a little friend (that I’m assuming the creators made) that protects her and she names him something adorable. AND I MISS HIM.

Then the boys start running the maze as per cannon and eventually they (mostly Newt) start to spot her jumping from the maze walls. So they think she’s like a ghost or something. Eventually she misses one of her jumps, falls down, and gets injured, so one of the boys (Probably Newt?) brings her to the glade, the medjacks take a peek and I think she herself wants to become a medjack after she chills at the glade for a while. Idrk. But she also stays in the maze sometimes I think.

THATS ALL I REMEMBER. I DONT REMEMBER THE AUTHOR, OR THE FULL 100% CORRECT TITLE, OR THE DATE OF PUBLISH. I was pretty darn sure it was like “The Maze Ghost” or “The Girl in the Maze” or something I swear. IDK. I NEED HELP.

PLEASE TUMBLR. DO YOUR THING. HELP ME.

UPDATE: A lovely person found it for me, within like 15 hours. IM SO THANKFUL. NOW I CAN READ ABOUT THE CUTE LITTLE PET GRIEVER. KEVIN HERE I COMEEEEE.

For anyone interested, the story is “His Glue {Newt x Reader}” by bagsybaggins.

I have no memory if it’s well written or not, but if you’d like to meet Kevin, I highly suggest. THANK YOU SO MUCH @goldfishinpainttubes YOU ARE SUCH A G.

#maze runner #tmr newt #tmr fandom #tmr #the maze runner #wattpad #help #tumblr…I need your help #ASSISTANCE PLEASE.#REBLOG OR SMTH GUYS I NEED WORD TO GET OUT PLS #updated!#story suggestion maybe??

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marwhoa · 2 years ago

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request: Hi, hi! May I request a Rise Leo one-shot? In some battle with a random villain, his long-time friend and crush falls under a mystic love spell that makes her act like she's head over heels for him for a month, and when it's over she doesn't remember any of it? She likes him too but never said anything bc she didn't think he'd like her back. I hope this isn't *too* detailed! Thank you so much for reading this. And pls take your time, I hope you're having a great day!💕

🝮 “ sorry i took so long ”

rise!leo x female!potioned!reader

author’s note: woo, I accidentally may have dragged this out super far…. erm…. i hope You like it,,, 🥺

word count: 6.3k

“ Tell me again why I’m here, Leo!! “

Narrowly dodging the gunk that came your way, dissolving the wall behind you, a shrieking inquiry was tossed at your friend-in-blue as you were both currently running for your lives through the weaving streets of the Hidden City.

“ No one else was available! ”

“ Ugh! ”

You ducked down with a shriek, dodging a mystic spell that popped into glitters and streaks like a firework as it hit the wall instead. Ignoring that, you trailed after a much-too-fast Leo, quickly growing winded, while thinking about this whole mess your best friend, Leo, roped you into.

—-

A sing-songy voice calls out your name. You were in your bathroom, tending to your hair when a special someone called for you. “ one second! “ you called, sitting things down on the counter, smoothing out your shorts, and then peeking out the room to see none other than mister Blue himself jogging in.

“ Y/N! Great, you’re ready, c’mon! ”

His hand has already found yours, lacing fondly and tugging you along to some yet-to-be-disclosed. If it weren’t for previously identical disasters starting just like this, you would have melted into the touch and been all-too delighted at holding this eccentric pal’s hand.

Alas! Thou art no fool, so you resist his pull, leaning backwards and digging your heels into the carpet of your room.

“ Hold on, partner! Remember what I said last time? ”

Narrowing your eyes at him, Leo stops dragging you and drops his shoulders with a sigh.

“ How did it go again, right, quote ‘Per Clause “Stop Getting Y/N in Messed-Up Situations”, Leonardo Hamato is required to debrief Y/N L/N on the shenanigans she is being dragged into’, end quote. ”

“ Exactly, now what is it this time? ”

Rubbing your hands, you shifted your weight and rested a hand on your hip, scrutinizing the turtle with your gaze. He seemed a bit nervous for a second but quickly recovered.

“ I was going to tell you on the way there, but since you’re Miss Impatient—“

Cue your dramatic gasp—

“—I SUPPOSE I can just tell you now. Mikey is doing a special dinner for Pops’ birthday, and I’m on delivery duty to retrieve some mystic ingredient his dish can’t live without. ”

“ Aww, how sweet, okay I’m in. ”

You turned your back to him, retrieving a backpack and filling it with some items. In the meantime, Leo plopped onto your bed with a playful huff, looking around the room he had seen far too many times.

“ See, now was that so hard? ”

Leo hummed curiously.

“ Telling me what we’re doing instead of letting me find out the hard way! “

Unhooking a light jacket from it’s hanger, you pulled it on, arm through arm, and tugged it for good measure. Leo hopped to his feet and came over to you, picking off something stuck to your shoulder. It was a sticker, probably off your computer or notebook. He rolled it between his fingers contemplatively, topping it all off with a dramatic “ hmmmmm ”. You held your breath at the distance, swearing you could smell him… Wait hold on, was that cologne? How the hell—

“ More fun my way. ”

He grinned, grabbing your hand again and yanking you through a portal as you flailed and stuttered out a series of questions, grunts, and groans.

—-

Turns out Mikey left out one important fun-fact, and that was his special ingredient was not only located in a certain witch’s garden ((a community one, but more so a “ local community! ” and not a “ topsider coming down here to take it ” one)), but also that there were crude signs posted up banning a certain brother who may or may not have resembled Leo.

So that’s what landed you two here, in this chase through the underground yokai territory, dodging angry spells and booking it down unfamiliar paths.

“ No one else was available! ”

Leo responded, turning his head to look back at you as you groaned out in annoyance. It wasn’t a shock that you were slower than him, but the distance increasing between you both was alarming enough for him to pivot on his foot and turn. His hand shot out to you, intending to grab yours and just haul you away, but instead your connected hand was yanked. He threw you behind him, shouting “ watch out! “ as he slashed a glass that a pursuing witch had thrown.

The witch—wizard?— glared at you both. He was the last of many to keep up the chase, others having been lost to obstacles, quick-second traps, or who just gave up.

Then his eyes fell upon you, on the ground behind the oh-so-heroic blue, and immediately a slick grin appeared on his face. While still yelling obscenities, the witch cackled while rushing off in the opposite direction.

Confused, Leo turned around to look at you and realize the slashed glass’ contents splatted onto you. Chills shot down his spine as he dropped down into a squat, careful not to touch the substance as it was… seeping into your skin?!

“ Oh, oh man—oh, oh, are you okay? Y/N? Does it hurt?! ”

Frantically, he pat himself down for a rag of sorts to try and wipe the liquid away and prevent anymore from being absorbed into your skin.

Nothing.

He looked back at you with widened eyes, only to find you gazing back at him. You didn’t seem… in pain? You weren’t even yelling at him for throwing you down like that. Were you okay? What was that potion anyways? Did it have no effect on you?

“ Y/N, hey, come on, “

Leo pleaded, reaching a hand out for your forehead. Warm, really warm, he frowned. His arm slacked, returning to his side as he internally pleaded for you to say anything.

After an uncomfortable thickened grew between you both, you finally moved. Leo was both relieved and started, as you began leaning close to him with glossy doe eyes.

“ Ah—haha, hey, Y/N? “

Nervously he stammered, not daring to move an inch. Was there something wrong? Something on his face??

Well, now there was. A kiss, placed softly upon his cheek, followed by arms enveloping him lovingly. Your hand rested on the back of his head, pressing his face into your shoulder as you hugged him.

“ That was a close one… Thank god you’re okay, Leo! ”

Deer in the headlights. Leo was speechless, for once, stiff in your embrace.

“ You scared that witch off, my strong handsome boy. “

Wait, what was that last bit?

Quickly his hands met your shoulders, pulling you off him as he put a gap between the two of y’all. He was searching your eyes for explanation, hands holding your shoulders firmly. There was a deep green hue flushing his cheeks and snout, peeking from up under his mask.

“ What? ”

—-

“ DONNIE! ”

CLASH.

CLANK.

and other sounds of things breaking and rolling.

And then the annoyed growl of a peeved brother.

“ Oh sweet brother of mine, you had better hope your reason for this mess is enough to protect you from my wrath. “

Grumbled the genius brother as he turned from the clutter, seeing Leonardo with a frantic expression—a fresh change of pace to that cocky grin of his—and you, latched to his arm lovingly.

“ Oh, great, you barged in here just to inform me you’re together. Shocker, allow me to show my surprise. “

Silence followed as the two brothers stared at each other. A metaphorical tumbleweed may have strolled on by, who’s to say. Donnie’s face had no change, and Leo’s only seemed to scrunch up more and more with each passing second.

“ …? “

He gestured his hands as if to say “ go on????? ”

“ Oh. That was it, that was my surprised face. “

“ Ha, ha, Don, no! That’s not it! Remember that Hidden City mission I was supposed to do? “

“ Ah, yes, the mission Mikey asked you specifically to carry out. Now let me guess, you’re here because you begged Y/N to go with you, and when you both got there, they insultingly mistook you for your more handsome brother, so you both had to escape, and amidst the chase, she ended up getting doused with some witch’s brew? ”

“ N—Wait, yes, how did you do tha? That’s creepily accurate… ”

Donnie simply reached a hand out, tilting a monitor to show a display that looked to be an angle from a Hidden City surveillance camera.

“ You saw it all from start to finish and didn’t help me?! Wait, then you saw—”

“ Her kiss you? As did every officer in the hidden city—not like they care. Now, if you’re here to ask for my help in this predicament, I am happy to say no. ”

“ What? Why! You’re my brother, what happened to treating your family with kindness? ”

Irked, the purple-banded turtle gestured to his lab.

“ Exhibit A, family kindness was not shown in refraining from bothering me. Exhibit B, last week you opted for eating the last slice of pizza when Mikey told you to come tell me food was here. Exhibit C, yo—“

“ Okay, okay, fine, I get it. My own flesh and blood would rather Y/N suffers than help her. ”

Donned with her best puppy eyes, Leo affectionately—and dramatically—nuzzles you. It seems you hadn’t read your script, as you were simply placing yet another public kiss upon his cheek, pouting at his brother.

“ Come on Donnie, don’t be so mean to him. Look how cute he is, there’s no way you can be mean to this face~! “

Delighted, your hands were rubbing his cheeks, mushing and melding the flesh as he watched you with big eyes. Had the circumstances been different, he may have been perfectly content and okay with this.

“ First, gross, second, wow that potion obviously broke her eyes too, third, ‘Nardo, this is mystic business. I can run some diagnostics, but I am a scientist, not a wizard. “

Running a hand through nonexistent hair, Donnie came over and tapped you, gesturing to follow him. You gave Leo a worried look, but when he smiled and gave you thumbs up, you were all the more willing to let him go and follow Donnie wherever.

Internally though, you couldn’t fight the oddest idea that something wasn’t right, but your head would say, “ oh, stop worrying, you’ll make leo worry, too! “ and you wouldn’t want that, would you? To worry your sweet knight? Of course, you also couldn’t exactly remember when he changed from “ secret crush ” to “ sweet knight ”, but maybe you’re just really distracted right now!

Ah… Well, that isn’t a believable excuse, but it’s all your foggy brain could come to.

“ Yowch—Donnie! ”

You glared at him, flinching from no warning as he pricked your skin and took a blood sample.

“ It will take a bit for the results of this to come in, so I suggest you send her home in the meantime. It doesn’t seem life threatening yet. “

Donnie paused for a second, then turned to look at Leo.

“ Emphasis on yet, perhaps keeping an eye on her would be best. ”

And then his back was turned to you as he began loading up some machine with the sample. You sighed, going back to Leo’s side while rubbing your arm. What was all this even for, you wondered. It was odd that your memories before getting in here were foggy, but surely whatever happened didn’t warrant this much weirdness?

Well, at least now you can have time with Leo—just the two of you!

“ Thank you, Dontron, you’re the best brother. ”

“ Yeah, okay, don’t let ‘Angelo hear that. ”

Leo turned, shivering as your delicate hands laced around his arm. It was distracting enough that the portal he made turned out wibbly-wobbly, dropping you both off at the complex across from yours. The giggle you made was all the more distracting on top of everything. Leaning your head onto his shoulder, a smile graced your features.

“ Wow, Leo, are you stalling going home to spend more time with me? “

For the second time today, the talkative Leo was rendered speechless. Another portal was made, and the two of you were stumbling into your living room—possibly knocking over some things on the way in, too, but you didn’t care. You were going to give another teasing quip, but as you turned to deliver it, the room was empty, ‘cept for you, obviously. He had managed to leave just as quickly as you had both arrived…

A pout tugged on your lips as your hand rubbed your other arm awkwardly.

What was that all about….?

—-

In the coming days, your lovey-dovey expressions towards Leo didn’t seem to have a stop in sight. If anything, they skyrocketed. Dangerously so.

Donnie’s results were in within a day, indicating what he said was an equation of, “ C8H11NO2, C10H12N2O, and C43H66N12O12S2 ” being amped up, produced in a highly active process whenever a certain somebody was nearby.

In other words—or rather, dumber terms, as Leo requested—you were simply under the effects of some mystic magic that would increase Dopamine, Serotonin, and Oxytocin levels in his company.

That wasn’t simple enough, as Leo dragged on for an even simpler explanation. Exasperated, Donnie groaned that basically you’re under the effects of a love-inducing spell.

Cogs clicked into place for Leo, and his first thought was, surprisingly, to avoid you. If this was you under an intoxication of sorts, then of course he couldn’t take advantage of that. The best option would be avoidance, to save you embarrassment of coming to terms with your behavior afterwards! A foolproof plan, right? Makes sense? Total sense!

Of course, this was an ideal situation, not what happened in reality. Reality piece number 1 would kick in two days after the potion incident.

There Leo was, doing his usual boasting act as he and his brothers did their weekly encounter with Hypno and Warren. He found himself as the target of one of Hypno’s rings boomeranging in his direction. Braced and ready to parry it with his ōdachi, his focus shattered when a desperate “ leo! “ startled him. Instantly, he was dodging the hippo’s weapon by slamming into the ground from a strong force tackling him down.

He recovered quickly, especially after the teasing “ ooooooh~! “ from the nosy villains he was actively sparring with, and met with your worried eyes.

Damn it.

“ Leo, are you okay? I was worried when you didn’t come b— “

Cue a quick hand clamping upon your mouth. Nope, nope, not exposing that to his brothers. They didn’t have to know how often he would visit you behind their backs. And you didn’t need to deal with their prying just from a slip-of-the-tongue.

One portal later and he was plopping you down on the couch in your room, pleading with you to stay and that he’d be back later (a lie).

Again, you were left sitting alone, confused as to why he was acting like this. Aren’t you both head over heels for each other? Is it just you? Your foot kicked the ground a bit as you leaned into the couch’s arm. Ah, wait, when you saw him and ran to him, you kind of… put something down..

“ I left my bag.. ”

Throwing up your arms and sliding into a laying-down position, you stared up at the ceiling and sniffled.

—-

“ Leo. “

“ I know, I know! I can’t keep avoiding her. ”

“ What? ”

Mikey quirked an eyebrow, swatting his brother’s hand away.

“ No, stop eating my ingredients. What’re you talking about, Y/N? You’re avoiding her? ”

Choose your words carefully, Leo, don’t want to accidentally bring out Dr. Feelings.

“ She’s under some potion effects, so I’m keeping a distance for her sake. ”

Mikey nodded, stirring the bowl he was holding. Occasionally he would reach over for herbs or so, sprinkling them into the mix.

“ Riiiiight, and you think that a potion that makes her like you more is the perfect situation to avoid her in? ”

“ You get it, yeah! ”

“ Mhmm, and what if you avoiding her makes it worse? ”

…

Crickets could have used this room as a perfect place for practice with how pin-droppingly quiet it was.

“ Right.. I should go see her, shouldn’t I.. ”

Leo traced circles in the residual flour on the table as his brother hummed in agreement. Reality puzzle piece number 2 was trickling down into its rightful place, a couple of days after he had last dropped you off at home.

Not to say that he went to see you after this, though. He sat up, stole a carrot sadly, ignored his brother’s “ hey! “ and slunk off to his room to sulk.

—-

In your apartment, you sprawled on the couch and rubbed your swollen nose with a tissue before crumpling it and throwing it into a nearby trash can.

One more look, you thought. Maybe I didn’t hear the notification, you reasoned, lifting your phone and clicking it on to read the all-too-cruel No New Notifications practically jeering at you.

Recognizing your face, your phone unlocked instantly, illuminating your face to the uncharacteristic message after message sent to the beloved ghosting you now.

NOTIFICATION

You have no new messages.

——————————————————

← Leonardo Hamato 💕 ☎︎

—————————————————— ︎O you 1 wk ago

Hey! Haha, you left so quick,

what’s up?

︎O you. 1 wk ago

Too good for goodbyes, huh?

lol

︎O you 1 wk ago

Good night, sleep well and

sweet dreams!

︎O you 1 wk ago

Sleep snug and warm!!

︎O you 5 days ago

Hey, you haven’t been coming

over as much!

︎O you 5 days ago

Maybe we could stay up and

watch a movie? Like usual?

︎O you 5 days ago

We could make dinner together

too! That’s always fun!

︎O you 5 days ago.

Or not

︎O you 5 days ago.

good night…

︎O you 4 days ago.

Good morning!!

︎O you 4 days ago.

Good night!!

︎O you 3 days ago.

Good morning

︎O you 1 day ago.

good night

︎O you 2 hrs ago.

I miss you..

——————————————————

One heavy sigh later and you were finished scrolling, getting up off the couch and into the kitchen for something to eat.

Hopefully there will be a ding..

—-

By the time the middle of the second week rolled around, Leo couldn’t handle going that long without shooting you a message or two—a quick, “ hey, how’s it going “ or a “ hey, check out this video, it reminded me of you “. Considering how much he popped in at your place, there was never any need for texting, just an occasional “ bored, can i pop in? “ or a “ don’t wanna do this homework, wanna drop by? “.

Seeing more messages from you, outside of their ordinary nature, was enough to make him feel even more horrible.

His feelings for you had always been a tad bit all over the place, but ever since that kiss, all your compliments, and those big eyes, there was no one in the world who wouldn’t have began their rapid descent into loving you.

From that moment, there was pretty much never a second spent without you on his mind, running circles and flushing his cheeks all over again. He spent more time in his room this time, not daring to give his brothers the chance to poke fun.

You were under a spell that made you love him. He couldn’t bring himself to take any kind of advantage of a situation like this. After all, he can easily make you fall for him, but it wouldn’t be rewarding if the competition was rigged. And this spell, how long would it last? Were you aware of it? Would you remember it all in the end? What would he do if you’re like this forever?

Before he put his phone down, he watched the three little dots appear in y’all’s messages and couldn’t help the heaviness in his chest, as he dropped the phone into the desk at his bedside.

Reality puzzle piece 4 fell into place as Leo laid in bed, eyes fixated on the ceiling. They followed the lines, the cracks and wear n’tear. Reflecting over the nights, days, the weeks, and even conversations, there was one line from his brother that echoed in his head.

“ … a potion that makes her like you more … “

There was a second of silence.

Then another.

And another, perhaps even a little water droplet falling could be heard.

Then followed the sound of frantic scrambling.

Sheets thumping upon the ground.

And lastly a dramatic gasp.

“ Makes her like me more?! Then—“

His hands meet his cheeks, slapping them cleanly to try and knock some sense into himself.

“—that means she liked me already?! ”

Ding ding, dearest Blue.

—-

Reality piece number 5th slammed into place as a “ patrolling ” Leo “ accidentally ” ended up at the balcony to your house, caught halfway through your window as you came from your room in sleepwear.

“ Leo? “

“ I can explain. ”

He responded immediately, punctuating the sentence with a harsh toppling in through your window. Against the floor, his body thumped unceremoniously in a mess of limbs and ligaments. This stirred a few breathy giggles from your sweet lips, followed by you dropping right by his side to help him up.

“ Leo! Are you okay? “

You wore a worried smile, delicate hands cupping his, stroking with a kindness you held only for him—matter of fact, it wasn’t even a new or foreign form of kindness. Had you always treated him this way? Was this potion really just… increasing what was already there?

“ Yeah.. ”

He had no reason to be here—not even an explanation for how he ended up in this side of town. You didn’t exactly live right above the lair, so your place wasn’t an easy “ right across the street “ venture.

And, your place was also usually…

Much neater—much cleaner—than it is now…

There were tissues balled up on the table beside your couch and dirty dishes in the sink. The counter had the remnants of a Maruchan ramen cup, topped with a fork upside down. Sheets were laid on the couch, right where he had last dropped you off at.

Suddenly, he remembered Mikey’s conversation and felt all the more guilty.

That bad feeling coiled its grip all around him, tightening as he finally gazed into your eyes, catching the puffiness.

“ Y/N…. I… I’m sorry. ”

His hand held yours, the one you helped him up with, and gently tugged you closer to him. The other hand reached up, cupping your cheek with a warmth you had been longing for all these weeks. You leaned into the hand with shaky lips, mentally repeating, “ i missed this “. Though, there was another thought gnawing at you—missed this? Why couldn’t you remember this happening? It was almost as though you were under some kind of…

But never mind that, the 5 piece reality puzzle was completed and fully illuminated for the Leo who was finally seeing the effect his impromptu plan was having. He couldn’t even deny the fact that it might have never even been a plan, he might have just been…

Afraid.

But the way you’re looking at him now, and how much he feels “ at home ” in a sense, well..

It was enough for him to change up his behavior. He didn’t know how much longer you would be like this—or if the effects had already gone away (though, the sweetness in your gaze assured him otherwise)—regardless of all that mess, he was going to be what you (and he) needed most right now.

“ Can I take you up on that movie n’dinner offer? Or, should we team up on this mess? ”

With a playful tone, he held both your hands in both of his, with his thumbs running along the tops of your hands lightly.

—-

“ Hey Leo… ”

It was the third week. The past few days had returned to a “ normal ”, with Leo starting to do his usual visits more often. The two of you had decided today would be for an impromptu sweets-making day and we’re currently laying on the floor while the stove heated up.

“ Yeah? ”

Leo turned his head, looking at you. Your hands fidgeted, and your eyes tried to find patterns in the popcorn ceiling.

There were holes in your memory, as if your mind was putting together a story—a lie— like a child put on trial by their parents. You turned to meet his gaze, resting your hand against your sternum.

“ This isn’t real, is it? ”

“ Excuse me? ”

Leo sat up, or more appropriately sprung up. He searched your expression for any kind of “ gotcha! “ or “ hah, made ya look! “ but found nothing but sincerity swirling in your eyes.

“ What, uh, what do you mean by that? ”

Nervously, he swapped his focus to the stove, standing up to put the ingredients into the pot. Today’s menu was homemade chocolates, and no, neither of y’all went to the store for it. This was happening with everything out of your pantry and the random stash of chocolate bars on top of the fridge.

On the floor you laid, glancing to his leg standing near your head. Your hand touched his ankle, tickling for a second as he made a strange noise and jerked his foot back, “ ah, hey! stop that—“

“ The way you’re acting, the way I’m acting—our texts, my memories.. Something happened in the witch’s town, didn’t it? Something I don’t remember? “

Now it was Leo’s turn to be confused. He looks down at you after stirring the pot a bit, settling down the spoon to let the heat take its course.

“ Y/N, you don’t remember what happened?”

He leans against the counter, one hand resting against the edge while the other holds his chin inquisitively. How should he respond to this? “ oh, yeah, you were hit with a love potion and i got scared because i love you and so i avoided you! “

Vetoed.

“ No, I just remember you, like… You tried to protect me from something, and then it got hazy. ”

He weighed his options, weighed how to respond, and eventually settled on an idea. Leo squats down beside you, reaching a hand to caress your cheek. The gesture is accepted as you nuzzled to the warmth, seeking the security his hold gave.

“ Y/N, I… I’m not sure what it was. ”

“ Donnie tested me, didn’t he? Days—no, weeks ago, when it happened? Didn’t he find anything? ”

eyuiii—- hoo boy, Leo….

“ No, the tests.. It’s mystic mojo, not Donnie’s vibes. You know that. ”

The way you squinted suspiciously at him almost made him break under the pressure. Luckily the pot was bubbling over and he needed to tend to that quickly!

“ Ah, hang on! ”

The conversation was dropped from there.

Neither of you picked it back up.

—-

While communication may have not been the strong suit, everything else was. To make up for secrets he was hiding, questions he was leaving unanswered, and tension being stirred, Leo had gone out of his way to impress and delight you. If you were to be stuck in this state forever, he was going to ensure that the you now was treated just as he would have treated the you before.

And that he did. You both got up to your usual shenanigans: pranks ending with one of the brothers shouting you or Leo’s name, sneaking into villain territories that may have been above a human’s pay grade, late-night lunar antics where no one would really mind it, but many might question it happening so late (such as playing games in courts past midnight or 3 AM park strolls).

But, you also ended up on some… out of the ordinary outings.

Dates, in other words.

There had been a few times where Leo portaled into your living room, letting himself into every room until he found you, only to discover you in a fancy or well-thought out outfit that he said couldn’t go to waste.

In just this third week, you had managed to acquire ice skating by experience as your beloved snuck you both right on into a closed rink (and sabotaged the cameras, of course!), to —embarrass— to have fun!

You had shaky legs in the skates,like that of a newborn deer, but nothing could beat the skipping of your heart each time Leo caught you in his arms as you went down, saying a slow, “ whoa there, don’t go falling for me yet… “ with a smile that had done you in way before his warning.

By the end of it, you had fallen right into his embrace. Hands on his chest, eyes locked in intense contact. A gravity pulled you both in, lips just barely touching—you were so sure you could feel his breath rolling across your skin.

But, leave it to someone’s phone blaring with a warning, a “ Donnie Alert '' cautioning Leo that someone was coming into the building. Just how much time did you both spend in that rink together?

The week had also brought you the full cliché experience of a movie date. Well, maybe not too cliché. Not sure how common it is to go to the theatres in full costume, but there were plenty of odd looks as you both strolled in dressed like “ aliens ” (Leo got compliments for his totally realistic looking green body paint. You wondered how he was able to answer “ what brand did you use? ” questions.)

But, aside from that, it was a date straight out of a movie. Best seats in the house, shared popcorn, bashful shoulder touches, and the classic accidental hand touch as you both reached for the salty snack. This night had been punctuated with yet another almost-kiss, but this time it was you who interrupted it.

Home, at your balcony, Leo cupped your cheek and leans in slowly for a kiss. The look in his eyes, the way the streetlights illuminated his skin—how supple his lips looked…

It overwhelmed you. Your heart raced, as though it would simply pop in your chest, and you turned your head to the side and covered your lips with your hand.

“ I—I’m not ready.. For some reason.. ”

It was as though someone, someone who was also you, was screaming “ stop, no! “ in the back of your head. A silence plateaued between you both, broken by Leo’s light chuckle.

“ No worries, ”

His hand cups your cheek, stroking with his thumb.

“ I’d wait a lifetime for you. ”

You smiled as he left, sighing like a maiden in love. Like? No, no, you are a maiden in love.

And the rest of the week’s dates, into the fourth week, only made it so much worse.

Only now, there was another voice in your head growing louder and louder. It was you, but also not you? She was guiding you, stopping you, begging and pleading, and sometimes even giving pointers—it was a weird experience. Were you just unlocking a new level of consciousness?

—-

The fourth week, the last week of the potions effects. The end of the month. There had been an imaginary clock looking over you the whole time, ticking down to a limit.

Unbeknownst to you two lovebirds.

Leo was in too deep by now. He was in love—more than he ever imagined to be—and he loved you deeply. As did you. The embraces you would both share each time he came by was undeniable to anyone, including yourselves.

In fact, he had even slept over once. The night before today.

The most important day, a special date.

Last night had been a stay-in night, garnished with a dinner-making montage involving kitchen room dancing, pasta and sauce making, and plenty of giggles. With dinner done, you both settled in your room with a movie showing on TV from your media provider. It was some horror movie that turned out horrible—quality, scared, all of it. Only a fifth of the way in, and already you had both devolved into a classic “ Cinema Sins “ episode.

The night dragged on til Leo gave a sigh, saying he should head back. He was stopped by your delicate grip, holding his hand as if presenting a choice rather than a demand. You asked if he really had to go, and he answered you with silence. Gently, you tugged his arm as if to request he return to the bed, and he obliged.

There was an awkward space between you both, closed only by your hands finding each other and resting against the pillow. You both slept facing each other, but you woke up hugging each other, as though your bodies resented the distance and craved connection.

Today was an important day because it was a date planned without you—Leo insisted it be a secret, and you were instructed to wear your nicest outfit and meet him in your apartment’s garden at 8 PM sharp.

In the garden was an opening, centered and circular. He figured no one would mind it being temporarily occupied by a table and two chairs, as well as a contained candle lit. The flowers around him framed the scene, lining the walkway.

And here he waited for your arrival, prepared to finally say the words he had yet to let you hear all this time.

“ Y/N, ”

He practiced to your favorite flowers, held in an equally as pretty vase,

“ I love you. I’m sorry it took me so long, but god, ”

His hand strokes a petal, noting it’s texture in a fleeting thought,

“ I regret taking so long. I love you, honestly and genuinely. Through and through. ”

He shook his head, muttering “ that’s not good enough. “ and continued waiting for you.

He gazed at his watch, feeling a drop in his chest at the time. It was three minutes past the designated time. No worries, Leo, she’s just running late, he reassured himself, and looked expectantly at the doors. Any second now you would be strolling in.

It was strange, though. You were usually very punctual.

The imaginary clock had struck its mark, having no heart to wait long enough for the two lovers. At its silent chime, the spell diminished, taking with it a month’s worth of memories. You were left standing still in your living room, looking around in confusion. What were you doing again? You looked at your dress, your shoes, and then jogged into the bathroom, looking in the mirror. Were you going somewhere? Why?

Why were you dressed up so nicely, you wondered? More importantly, when did you get home? All you could recall was Leo pulling you, the pain of hitting the ground, and then looking up to see something splashing down on you…

There was one person you could get answers from, and so you went scrambling for your phone. An electric shock coursed its way through your body as a date was illuminated big on the Home Screen. No, no, this couldn’t be right—something was wrong. It couldn’t possibly be a month later?

Just what was going on, you thought, as you plopped onto your bed and undid your hair. Unlocking your phone, you scrolled the contact, “ Leonardo Hamato 💕 “, and clicked the text box to shoot off a message. Wait, pause? There were several messages sent within the last two weeks. That’s… Weird—you don’t send this many messages, not to Leo…

….?

Who sent these messages?

A ding came in. You held your breath.

NOTIFICATION

You have one new message.

——————————————————

← Leonardo Hamato 💕 ☎︎

—————————————————— ︎O Leonardo Hamato now

When I said dress up, I didn’t think you would do a full makeover!

︎O Leonardo Hamato now

Don’t stand me up for a pretty brush, I’m much more handsome

︎O Leonardo Hamato now

I’m in the garden, remember?

——————————————————

It was more messages than you guys usually sent each other… But, the garden? Why would he be there? Not a second more was wasted before you were zipping down your building’s stairwell as though you were Cinderella descending the palace steps.

Through the doors, across the too-small-to-count park, and against the decorative doors of the complex’s most prized staple—the centerpiece that garnered them so much popularity as a beautiful apartment property.

Time slowed down as you stepped in. Like a dream, petals twirled hand n’hand gracefully with the breeze that slipped past the open doors, and your gaze soon met the relieved smile of the beautiful blue that you had long since fallen in love with. He moved over towards you, taking your hand before you could even say anything, and guided you to the candlelit table. The cloth was simple, a light blue with repeating patterns of different berries, with a white lace lining the edges. Your favorite flowers gave a little spin in their vase, and a small candle fire danced as though it were happy to see you.

But never could it be happier than Leo, who held your hands with a fondness you couldn’t help but melt into. What was going on? What happened in the month-long lapse of your memory?

“ Y/N! I was a bit worried, you know? ”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. Your eyes widened, and you held your breath, not daring to speak. If this was a dream, then god was it a cruel one.

Leo’s hand cups your cheek as he leans away, stroking it lovingly with his thumb. It felt as though you had felt this before despite having no recollection of so. Still, you leaned into the touch and looked into his lulled, lovesick eyes with your own, pooling with love straight from your heart. Was he… Did he? Did he love you, how you love him?

“ When you didn’t show up at the time I told you, I will admit that I got nervous.. But seeing you now, I just.. ”

He sighed happily, cupping both your cheeks with his hands and leaning in closer.

“ I love you so much. From the bottom of my heart, for so long. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this. ”

Leaning in, he closed the gap as you whispered his name. Your lips were locked in a sweet kiss.

Whatever happened this month, it was probably the best thing to ever happen to you. Though, you would definitely be getting answers from him later.

But right now, you are going to savor this moment.

#Leonardo x reader #Leo x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #rise tmnt leo x reader #tmnt leo x reader #rise leo x reader #rise leonardo x reader #rise tmnt leonardo x reader #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt leonardo x reader

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asirensrage · 5 months ago

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Saudade - Chapter 1

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Mikey x OC, Hanma x OC, Ran x OC, Mikey x OC x Draken Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Warnings: swearing, violence, threats of violence, murder, smoking, sex, consensual sex between teenagers, alcohol, recreational drug use, mention of trafficking, torture, family neglect, mentions of sexual violence. isekai OC. memory loss. unbeta'd **warnings are not exhaustive** Summary: No one seems to realize she doesn’t belong until she finally runs into her “new” brother, Hanagaki Takemichi. Now, hearing his story, Takara makes the choice to help him and hopefully find her way home, but faking it til you make it only lasts so long when you start losing the memories of the life you had before. As Takemichi becomes the only family she’s ever known, how far will she go to protect him?

notes: Thank you all for reading! As I said, the fic is complete, I'll post as I edit but it should be fairly regular updates (especially compared to some of my other fics lol). There is a lot that happens but it's a lot of fun.

also on ao3

fic masterlist - prologue

She sits across from him once he’s showered and dressed. He hasn’t let up about the fact that she’s a stranger in his house, at least until he sees the photos of them as kids. Honestly, she still doesn’t really get it. She doesn’t know what happened but she’s been playing along with it until she can figure things out. It feels like she’s playing some role she didn’t know about and she half expects one of her brothers to jump out and tell her it’s a huge prank. Except she doesn’t actually look like herself. It’s weird. Since she woke up here, she knows she doesn’t belong, but she has the memories as if she grew up here. As if she’s always had a younger brother and not a couple of older ones. The memories of this life are there, but they’re faded, like a memory of a movie she watched. There’s no real emotional connection to any of them.

The boy across from her, her younger brother whose eyes are somehow too sharp, is the only one to question her existence. It’s a relief. It makes her feel like she hasn’t just gone insane. She had been avoiding him since she woke up here and it was easy since he never seemed to be home or secluded himself in his room while recovering. Or so his mother said. Now she kind of wishes she had sought him out earlier, just to get this confirmation.

“So who are you?”

She picks up one of the puzzle pieces that’s on the floor and tries to see if she can see where it fits. The first place she tries doesn’t work. “Takara. Or they call me Takara. Apparently, it’s my name.”

“You don’t know your name?”

She looks up at him. “I woke up here a couple days ago. Like this,” she motions to herself. They look similar, as siblings do, sharing the same original hair and eye colour. Her eyes are not as wide though, her face a little more curved, a little softer like her body is. It’s weird to think about. She’s also shorter than she used to be. “I was back home before that…” she pauses, trying to remember. It’s almost like an afterthought. She has to concentrate, thinking of the last thing that happened before she woke up here. Nothing is clear. She doesn’t linger long on that revelation. “I think…something happened but I don’t know. I can’t-” she cuts herself off, shaking her head and moving on. “I have the memories of living here, of being your sister, but they’re…fuzzy. Like a movie I saw years ago. I know the plot but not the details.” She focuses back on the puzzle, looking for another piece to place. She panicked about it when she first woke up here but now it seems like an old problem, something that slips from her grip every time she tries to think about it too hard. It’s easier to just continue.

“And…no one noticed?” He asked, looking at her in concern.

She smiles softly. “You’re the only person to realize I don’t belong!”

“What? How?” He stares at her in shock before jumping to his feet and pacing in front of her. “This shouldn’t happen! I mean, you didn’t exist before! Even when I first time travelled it–”

“You can time travel?”

His eyes go wide and she realizes that he didn’t mean to say it.

“Huh,” she leans back on her hands, ignoring the feeling of puzzle pieces under them. “That’s pretty fucking cool. I wonder if that’s what happened to me…” She eyes him speculatively. “Why don’t you tell me everything and I’ll tell you what I know and maybe we can figure this shit out?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Yeah, okay.”

The conversation quickly devolves but they learn more about each other. Takemichi has only known life as an only child whereas she was raised with older brothers. He’s been left to his own devices a lot, free to roam, compared to her life being filled with sports and activities. She was determined to do what her brothers could and that involved compromises in terms of what activities she did. It never left her a lot of free time for friends outside of her teammates.

Whatever brought her here inserted her into his life in a way that made sense. She was made to fit into the cracks, or at least they were used as an explanation for why she is the way she is. She knows there are memories of being discarded to the side for the sake of her brother. It leaves a familiar ache of resignation and resentment in her gut, one that she’s determined to stomp out. Regardless of what she feels, neither of them asked for this. Still, she can’t help but point it out.

“You know you’re super spoiled, right?”

“What? No, I’m not!”

“You are. At least, now you are? I think it’s a way of fitting me into your life. You’re the son so you got what you wanted.”

“...oh.”

“Yeah, it’s fucking weird.”

🏍️

By the time they finish the puzzle together, she comes to the conclusion that she likes him. He reminds her a bit of one of her older brothers. That same easy grin and determination to do what’s right. She can’t blame him for wanting to fix things, especially since he seems more concerned about the people he knows dying than himself. He only really mentions his own death like it’s a footnote. Still, she knows that she probably wouldn’t have that same conviction. Then again, maybe she would if it was someone she cared about.

“Alright,” she says with a nod. “I’ll help you.”

He looks at her in surprise. “What? You will?”

“Sure,” she shrugs. “It’s not like I have anything better to do. I’m not technically supposed to be here, right? We both know you didn’t have a sister before I showed up even if no one else does, so maybe that’s why I’m here. To help you. Besides, it’s an older sibling's job to help their pain in the ass younger one, isn’t it?” She looks at him and sees the tears falling down his face. “Are you crying again?”

“I can’t help it!”

She laughs at that.

“Thank you!” He practically leaps over the table to hug her. “I was so scared. I didn’t know what I’m going to do!”

“Yeah well, just keep me up to date and I’ll help, okay? And tell me when you’re going to disappear and shit.”

He cries harder.

She rolls her eyes and hugs him back. “Don’t worry. It’ll be tough, but we’re not alone, right?”

“I’m sorry you’re here,” he says, finally pulling back and wiping at his face. She tries to ignore the way her chest feels as though it’s caving in at those words. She doesn’t know if it’s because of the reminder or the fact that she already forgot about the way she doesn’t belong. “I don’t know why it happened, but I swear, I’ll make it worth it! I’ll be the best brother!”

She smiles softly and rubs the top of his head, messing up his hair. “Don’t worry about that.” She stands and stretches slightly before looking down at him. “I’m going to make dinner. Who knows when our parents will be home.”

“Okay,” he nods.

She smiles again and heads out of his room, pausing only to call back. “Clean your room! And don’t forget about the mess you left outside!”

“Aww!” she hears him groan. “That wasn’t even me!”

“It’s your friends, it’s your mess!” she called back before heading downstairs. Being an older sibling could be fun. Still, her smile fades as she enters the kitchen. Takemichi’s story left something aching in her and one thought is on repeat. Did she die too?

🏍️

Takemichi and her move around each other cautiously.

Despite coming to an agreement about what’s next, Takemichi has no real plans and spends most of his time out of the house. She can’t really blame him. Her new parents are around but they seem to take little interest in their children now that they’re teenagers, aside from making sure chores and homework get done.

It’s fine. She’s not entirely used to being on her own or having this much free time. Her life before was filled with activities and teams, but it gives her time to think about what’s happening, especially with the fact that her new brother is involved with a gang and is likely going to get pulled in further if he doesn’t submerge himself first.

Thankfully, she’s managed to find and buy some inline skates. It’s not exactly the same as ice skates, but it’s close enough that it’s comforting. The act of skating is familiar and easy and helps her think. It also helps her explore her surroundings better.

It reads like a bad story. The more she thinks about it, the more the feeling of unease grows deep in her stomach. She doesn’t know what happened back home, but she’s already tried to research herself and her family. There’s no response or sign of even her old social media. She’s here, in a new body, in a new place with a new family and it doesn’t seem right. She never thought she’d miss her brothers, but she does. She misses everything…and she doesn’t.

Still, there’s not really much she can do.

Not yet at least. She got lucky that her brother in this world is someone who’s experiencing a supernatural thing himself. It makes it easier on both of them to believe each other and based on what he’s told her, they need to.

“Hey! Takara!” She skids to a stop at the sound of her name. Her memories of this life are fuzzy, but she knows enough that while she has acquaintances, she doesn’t really have any close friends. Another way, she thinks, to explain her presence. Or at least making it easier to shove her into this role. She didn’t use to believe in magic before this.

She looks to see who called her and realizes she is skating past her brother and his friends. She vaguely remembers the names of the three who he’s been friends with. The memory of their introduction is there but she hadn’t cared to get to know them. It made sense considering they were a year or so younger than her. She knows who Hina is, not only from her memory but from listening to Takemichi talk about her and how he’s going to save her. The other three are a mystery, though two of them had been there at their house. His house.

Takemichi is waving at her though so she skates towards him. “What?” He looks a little surprised at her greeting, but she circles him slowly, waiting for him to answer.

“Is that really how you greet your favourite brother?”

“Yes,” she says, completely deadpan. She tries not to smile as the tall one laughs. It’s a strange thing to have such strong affection for a boy she actually met not that long ago. She’s not fully sure if it’s real or a by-product of the fake memories she has. Maybe it’s the reminder of her actual brother. She trusts him though.

“I wanted to introduce you to my friends!”

“We already know your sister,” the one Takemichi called Akkun says. He’s the one who tried to kill him. Probably succeeded too in that first death. Takemichi mentioned being pushed.

She weaves around them, crossing her feet as she skates backwards. They’re all staring and she’s unsure if it’s because she’s never done this here before or they’re just not used to seeing anyone on blades.

“I know you have,” Takemichi says. “But she hasn’t been introduced to Mikey and Draken!” It’s a nice recovery.

She skids to a stop at the names, looking over the two he motioned to.

“Yo,” the tall one says. “I’m Draken, that’s Mikey,” he motions to the shorter blond next to him. He looks her up and down. “Didn’t know Takemitchy had a sister.”

“I don’t get out much,” she replies dryly.

“Can you do any tricks?” Mikey asks, his eyes meeting hers. “On those wheels. You’re pretty fast.”

“Hmm...” she thinks about it. She can on ice and in her original body, but this isn’t the same. The other guys suddenly start cheering her on, telling her to try it. She rolls her eyes before waving them off. “Hold on, let me see.” She looked around at the amount of space they had. “You’re going to have to sit on the steps if you want me to try this. I don’t know if I can pull it off.”

They dutifully move out of the way.

She takes a moment to skate around and get a feel of the ground. Being on inline skates isn’t the exact same as ice skates and she’s not completely familiar with the balance of her now but she should be able to do something. All that experience in those stupid figure skating classes had to pay off sometimes.

She slows down and takes a moment to skate on one foot, checking her balance and fixing her posture. She does the same for the other foot before she puts it down and picks up her speed. She moves in a familiar spin, allowing herself to fall into the memory of it. She keeps it short, not wanting to make herself too dizzy. She lifts one leg in the air behind her as she skates forward, keeping her balance as she leans down, making it look far more elegant than she knows it is. After she lowers her leg, she turns and picks up speed again before trying to jump. It doesn’t work. She lands correctly, but in a way that works on ice, not wheels and her legs go sliding out from under her. She skids to a stop on her ass.

“Ow.”

“Takara!” The others run towards her and she takes Takemichi’s hand out of all the ones offered to get her back on her feet. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, thanks,” she brushes herself off. She wheels herself back a bit, away from the others. Just to get some space.

“That was amazing!” The girl she doesn’t recognize says, eyes seeming to shine. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“Ice skating,” Takara answers. It’s the truth after all.

“I’m Emma, Mikey’s sister,” the girl introduces herself.

“Takara, Takemichi’s sister.” It’s strange how easy it is to say that. Maybe there’s something wrong with her. She doesn’t feel completely lost or sick with fear, guilt and hurt. She should. In the back of her mind, she knows she shouldn’t be accepting this so easily. “I’m gonna go,” she says, suddenly weirded out by the reminder. “I’ll see you at home,” she tells Takemichi. She skates back, checking to make sure she’s not going to hit something other than pavement before she turns.

“Wait!” She pauses and looks towards Hinata who called out. “We’re–we’re going to the festival tomorrow. Do you want to come?”

It’s sweet. She probably would have asked her boyfriend’s sister as well, if she ever had one. Her brothers were effective in scaring off any boys interested in her. “No, I have plans, but you guys have fun! Bye!” It’s a lie but she doesn’t feel bad about it. She waves and smiles at the group of them before she takes off.

🏍️

everything tag: @raith-way @zeleniafic @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse

@themaradwrites @kingsmakers @thatmagickjuju @awkwardchick87

tr tag: @mitsuwuyaa @blackfire2013 @bleach-your-panties @reiners-milkbiddies

#fic: saudade #oc: takara #sano mikey x oc #tokyo revengers fic #tr fic #tokyo revengers fanfic #sano manjiro x oc #haitani ran x oc #hanma shuji x oc

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averagejoesolomon · 6 months ago

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We made it, friends. Welcome to the final installment of Full Circle: 1986. It has been an absolute delight sharing this one with you. It is a downright gift to finally be able to commit this all to paper, after having been in my head for probably close to a decade now. This will probably be the last Full Circle chapter until ~November/December. I know this is longer than usual, but I've finally finished an original manuscript, and I'm going to take an honest shot at publishing it this fall. I so appreciate your patience while I follow that dream. I'll be back as soon as I can with more of Full Circle. There may be some surprises in the meantime (ahem—Listen Series 10-year anniversary), but as always, I can't wait to share what comes next. Those of you doing some math may have already realized we have a very familiar face coming in 1988 👀🍼 Until then, please enjoy. If you're new here, you can read all of Full Circle on Ao3.

Chapter Fourteen

“You’ve got to be goddamn kidding me.”

Joe Solomon can find a way to hide in just about every environment on earth. Anywhere he goes, he’s the figure at the back of the bar, the shadow at the end of the street, the ghost sitting in a blind spot security swears they don’t have. His face is never caught on camera. His name is never on any lists. If there’s darkness around, you can bet Joe’s managed to sink into it. Maybe it’s his New York roots, or old foster kid habits, or Blackthorne training he can’t quite shake, but one thing’s for sure—if Joe don’t want to be found, there’s not a soul on earth who can find him.

But something about the gray-speckled walls of Langley’s third floor draws him out, as though this place was designed to expose all the secrets it collects, starting with men like him. Of course, the hollering doesn’t help either. “Look at yourself.”

Matt turns just in time to see Joe barrel scowl-first down the hall. “Joe,” Matt says, smile wide and welcoming. “Nice to see you up and walking again.”

“Don’t start,” he barks. “You made me stay home, meanwhile you looked like this?”

Joe’s still got a slight limp to his gait, but that’s not much compared to the laundry list of fresh injuries Matt’s working with. He’s officially lost all leverage in this argument. “To be fair,” he says, trying his luck anyway, “I’ve only looked like this for the last 48 hours.”

Joe closes the distance between them, but his voice still stays at that same outraged level. “What the hell happened to you?”

This particular question can’t be answered in the lobby of Director Smith’s main office, which is almost certainly monitored by folks outside of their extremely limited task force—if not bugged by less friendly players. With one look, Matt’s able to tap into their shared shorthand and convey caution. “Details later.”

Joe catches the hint, even if he doesn’t look happy about it. He scans Matt up and down in that even, no-nonsense sort of way Joe scans everything. His voice drops to Matt’s level when he grumbles, “You just get to have all the fun, I guess.”

“If it helps,” Matt says, “I don’t remember most of it.”

“Jesus,” Joe sympathizes. “Would you at least sit down, already? It hurts just looking at you.”

The two of them usually share the same stick-straight posture, a habit leftover from their Army days that proves impossible to break. Joe’s wearing it now, softened over the years, but still there. The subtle draw of his shoulders. The top-to-bottom stacking of his spine. When Matt tries to mimic it, he comes up against the strain in his ribs and curls right back up. He hasn’t been able to pull himself upright since his third helicopter across the Alps, and Joe’s presence ain’t gonna change that, even if Joe’s always made him feel just a little bit invincible. “If I sit down,” says Matt, “I’m not gonna be able to stand back up.”

Joe’s jaw grinds. “I told you I’d get on a flight—”

Matt says, nice and easy, “And I told you I had it handled.”

“You’re never going solo on one of these things again.”

“I didn’t go solo. I had Rachel, and Rachel had a whole team.”

This ain’t much of a comfort in Joe’s book, and it shows. This is the same look Joe gives him anytime Rachel gets mentioned—and as it so happens, it’s also the same look Rachel gives him anytime Joe gets mentioned. Matt’s got no clue how the two most observant people he knows can be this blind to their own similarities.

No doubt Joe’s got plenty to say when it comes to Rachel Cameron and her team, but he bites his tongue because good guys don’t bad-talk ladies when they’re not around to defend themselves. Instead, he keeps his frustrations broad. “It never should’ve gotten this close.”

“We’ve made some powerful enemies,” Matt says with a shrug. The movement aches, but no more than sitting, or standing, or breathing already does. “They were bound to get a couple hits on us one of these days.”

Joe gives him another surveying glance. “This is more than a couple.”

“It’s worse than it looks.”

“And they didn’t get hits on us. They got hits on you.”

Of all his hiding spots, Joe’s favorite is his own guilt. He retreats into it every chance he gets. Lingers in its shadow, sometimes for days at a time. Guilt is the thing that keeps Joe up at night and when he does finally fall asleep, guilt is the thing that brings him back to his feet, wandering down empty hotel halls well into the witching hour. Joe keeps a running list of sins in his head at all times, some small part of him always repenting for the orders he’s followed, the lies he’s told, the lives he’s taken, and a moment of weakness one Christmas Eve night when his own secrets finally became too heavy to hold all on his own.

It’s constant, and Joe’s an old pro at finding new things to take the blame for. He’s doing it right now. Guilt that he wasn’t there to take his own beating. Guilt that Matt was.

This is all a load of hooey, according to Matt. A bunch of shame and remorse put there by the Circle of Cavan, because shame and remorse is exactly what turns Circle recruits into Circle agents. He’s said as much to Joe, but it’s never received well—doesn’t seem to help, anyway, so Matt focuses on something that will. “It’s worse than it looks,” he says again, and he meets Joe’s eyes this time. Lets the words settle how they need to for Joe to really believe it. “Honest.”

Joe squints, assessing Matt with that sharp and attentive look he has. “Chrissake,” he finally sighs. “You lie to Soviet dignitaries with that mouth? Honestly Morgan, you’ve got a godawful tell.”

“Alright, so I’m gonna head down to the docs when we’re done here,” Matt admits. “But Joe, look at me. I’m fine. And if I’m not fine, then I’ll be fine.” Joe looks like he wants to protest and takes in a breath to do exactly that. But Matt’s in no shape for a fight right now, so he interrupts this one before it can even start. “Did you get to my safety deposit box while I was gone?”

This is a lot like asking if Joe got around to sleeping or eating while he was gone, which might be why Joe rolls his eyes. “You asked me to go,” he says, “so I went.”

“And?” Matt prompts.

Joe spots the change in subject, but Matt must look pitiful enough to let it slide. “Nothing,” he says. “No sign of a break-in—passport right where it was supposed to be.”

Matt’s heart drops into his battered gut, landing among the dread that’s been churning there for days. It takes every ounce of training he’s got to keep his face neutral, composed, when he lets out a matter-of-fact, “Huh.”

“Huh?” Joe presses. “What, huh?”

“One of my passports was in Moscow. Saw it with my own two eyes.”

The lobby is empty around them, lined with unoccupied seats and filled with unread magazines. There’s no one to hide from. There’s not a sound to be heard. Not even the plant in the corner is alive, faded plastic leaves feeding off the fluorescents above. Even so, neither one of them risks a scene for fear that someone, somewhere is watching.

Joe’s words are quiet. Barely there. “If it wasn’t from your deposit box…”

“Someone at Langley is selling the passports they have on file,” Matt says. “And if we track them down…”

They don’t dare finish the thought aloud. They don’t have to. This has always been the endgame. The sole objective Director Smith gave them years ago, back when Joe still had an allegiance to the Circle and Matt didn’t know the name Ioseph Cavan. Find the moles, protect the agency, and save Joe’s reputation in the process. All these years, they’ve been tracking Circle agents from the outside in, working with any informant they could to get back to a source at Langley. This may be their one and only shot at an internal investigation.

But Matt’s ribs twinge against his breath, and the timing reeks of a trap. After all these years of looking, they finally reach a breakthrough on this op days after he takes a beating designed to intimidate. Maybe it’s working, because Matt’s not so sure they should follow this one. “Conversation for another time,” he hints. “We’ll talk when we get back to the apartment.”

And Joe doesn’t miss a trick. “There’s more?”

When it comes to the Circle, there’s always more. No one knows that better than Joe Solomon. “There’s no such thing as coincidence, right?”

Joe nods. “Right.”

“Let’s just say,” Matt cautions, “I don’t think it’s a coincidence I was there.”

Matt keeps this theory vague on purpose, trusting Joe to decode the rest. There’s a glint in his eyes as he runs the numbers and plays out every hypothetical. Joe may not have been in Moscow, but that doesn’t mean he can’t piece together what happened. “Jesus,” he spits, realization playing out in his features. “You think Rachel set you up?”

Well. That sure ain’t the conclusion Matt expected him to make. “What? No. God, no,” Matt sputters. They don’t have time to walk back the math on this particular miscalculation, so Matt cuts to the chase before Joe can go any further down that path. “But Joe, listen. I think Catherine might have.”

This has Joe running a whole new set of numbers through his head, pulling the corners of his mouth into a hard, stoic frown. “No,” he says, definite. “Not a chance. You’re sure it wasn’t Rachel—?”

“Morning, Joe.”

With timing too perfect to be accidental, Rachel chooses this moment to round the corner and join their conversation. She has a cup of vending machine coffee in each hand, steam still rising from the slim notches in each plastic cap. As she sips from one, she holds the other out to Matt, and he’s been awake for too many consecutive hours to decline. It ain’t Joe’s coffee, but it’ll do.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better,” she says, and Matt has to hand it to her—she’s got this way of making something perfectly pleasant sound like utter devastation. “I heard you’ve been indisposed as of late.”

Joe’s answering glance is aimed directly at Matt, a scathing pout from someone who ain't above using his highly specialized skill set on a girl, just as long as his best friend gives him permission first.

Matt replies with his own warning look and a placating, “Play nice.” To keep the game fair, he turns to Rachel too. “Both of you.”

“What the hell is she doing here?” Joe asks.

Matt throws a thumb in her direction. “Talk to Rachel, when you’re talking to Rachel.”

“Alright.” His eyes flash to her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Rachel takes another sip of her coffee, entirely unruffled. “A pleasure, as always, Joe.”

Joe crosses his arms over his chest. Settles into a wider stance. “You’ll have to excuse me if I’m not at my friendliest,” he says. “It’s just that I gave Matt to you in pretty good shape, and you didn’t exactly return him in pristine condition.”

“All things considered, I’d say he’s in pretty excellent condition, actually.” She’s the cool and collected counter to Joe’s stinging emotion. “Despite your best efforts to put him in the ground.”

Joe huffs, a bull seeing red. “Excuse me?”

Matt physically steps between the two of them. “Alright,” he says. “A little civility, please. I’ll remind you both that there are plenty of things I need your help with, but getting myself into trouble ain’t one of them. If you wanna be mad at someone, you can be mad at me.”

They both look ready to follow through on that offer, so Matt holds out his hands in either direction. Before they can speak he says, “But you can’t be mad at me yet—I’m injured, remember? So, so very injured.”

Joe rolls his eyes and spits out a, “Chrissake,” at the same time Rachel says, “Oh honestly, Matthew.” The two of them seem to find some tentative common ground in their shared annoyance, temporarily refraining from any further bickering. That’s fine. Matt can be a common enemy for now. Maybe it’ll remind them that what they’ve actually got is a common friend. There may be hope for them yet.

He lowers his hands slowly, trying not to disturb the peace. “Rachel’s here on orders from the Director,” he explains, “on account of how she’s recently learned some new information.”

Joe deciphers this in a matter of seconds. “You told her?”

“What I could,” Matt confirms. “It was the only way to get her out of Moscow.”

For all his grumbling, Joe knows the same thing every spy knows—that Moscow is a desperate place in a desperate time, always calling for desperate measures. He won’t begrudge any decisions made within the city’s borders, because he knows firsthand how Moscow can wring a fella out and force him to find alliances in the damnedest places.

So rather than holler any more than he already has, he turns to Rachel. Looks at her with a deadly serious intensity. “Then he must have told you that you’ve raised some flags?”

Rachel matches his gaze. “He did.”

“That these are dangerous people?”

“He said that too.”

Joe glaces at Matt, then lands back on Rachel one more time. He looks like he wants to hide, but instead he holds strong. “He told you that if you keep looking for them, they’re going to find you first?”

Guilt for pulling Matt into all this. Guilt for pulling in Rachel by proxy.

Rachel’s chin is in its usual place, high and strong. “I’m not afraid of making a few more enemies.”

“I’m not saying it to scare you,” Joe insists. “I’m saying it because it’s the truth, and because you’re smart enough to walk away while you still can.”

Joe Solomon can hide anywhere in the world, but there are some people not even he can hide from, even if he’s spent most of his adult life trying to do exactly that. His words lack all the signs of their usual squabbles, replaced by a man who has been running for as long as he can remember, and wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy.

Rachel Cameron is not his worst enemy, but she knows their rivalry well enough to understand this must be important, if Joe’s decided to put it aside for now. She surrenders her own fight, just temporarily, and grants him a nod. “I’ll do what the agency asks of me,” she says. Then, with some consideration. “What’s best for Matt. And I suppose, by association, that means I’ll do what’s best for you, too.”

Sometimes Matt forgets that Joe is older than Rachel, by just under two years. In damn near every aspect of espionage and beyond, the two are evenly matched. But right then, Joe’s experience weighs down his every feature and makes him look horribly, achingly old. When it comes to understanding the toll the Circle can take on a person’s soul, few people know more than Joe.

“Do whatever you want,” he says, letting his head fall into a shameful shake. “But just know, as soon as you walk in those doors, you aren’t making decisions for yourself. You’re making them for Abby and your dad. For any friends you have back in Baltimore. For any future family you might want to have someday. Because once these people find out you’re onto them, they won't just stop at you.”

The best way to send Rachel into an uneasy spiral is to dig up her sense of helplessness. It’s something Matt’s only just started to learn, but something Joe seems to have known for a while now, given how easily he leverages her own fears against her. There’s some irony to the idea that a manipulation technique Joe learned in the Circle is the only thing keeping Rachel out of it.

She glances at Matt, but it’s quick. Like she can’t quite help herself. It’s gone before Matt can decide what it means, hidden behind another sip of coffee. “Fine,” she says, bored as she wipes the corner of her lip with her thumb. “Anything else?”

Joe starts to answer one way or the other, but he doesn’t get the chance. They’re interrupted by a petite woman in a pencil skirt, emerging from the office at their backs. She peers over horn-rimmed glasses as she says, “The Director will see you now.”

Best not to keep the boss waiting.

Rachel straightens her shoulders and starts to turn, leading the pack. “Ladies first,” she reminds them both, looking distinctly Abby-like as she shoots a carefree smile over her shoulder.

Matt starts to follow, the way he always follows her lead, but Joe hooks a hand around his arm instead, keeping Matt planted in place. He waits until Rachel is out of earshot and then, in the most covert voice Matt’s ever heard from him, asks, “Are you sleeping with Rachel Cameron?”

Spy training or not, Matt feels a flush crawl up his neck, as fresh flashes catch along his breath. Rachel’s cool hand on his hot chest. Rachel’s moan in his mouth. “Am I—?” he sputters. “Am I sleeping with—?”

But Joe’s just got this look on his face. Cover blown.

So Matt drops the act. They’ve talked about matters of national security with less urgency when he asks, “How did you know?”

Joe points to the coffee cup in Matt’s hand. “You hate vending machine coffee,” he says. “Which I know, because every time you drink it, you bitch and moan about how my coffee is better.”

“Your coffee is better,” Matt contests.

“And yet, you’re drinking hers,” Joe says. “And the only way you’d ever drink that shit is if you were—”

“Yeah.”

“So you are.”

“Yeah.”

“About time.”

This is so wildly off-base from the response Matt expects that he has to do a double-take. Make sure he heard right. “Wait,” he says. “What’s that supposed to—?”

“Are you boys coming, or what?”

Rachel pops her head around the doorway and Matt resists the completely unspylike urge to throw both hands over Joe’s mouth. “Yep,” he says. “Be right there.”

She retreats back to the office, and Matt turns back toward Joe. “Not a word.”

Joe holds up both hands in faux innocence. “My lips are sealed,” he says, but he’s biting back a grin, and Matt knows he hasn’t heard the last of this. “Now let’s get this over with. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can watch the Royals game.”

Matt really is having a hard time deciding how to feel about Joe, right this moment. “You taped the Royals game for me?”

Joe shrugs. “‘Course I taped the Royals game for you.”

But Matt forgives easy, and Joe’s easy to forgive anyway. “Joe Solomon,” he says, with a grin of his own. “Did you miss me?”

“Alright,” Joe drones. “Get in there, or I’m gonna tell you the scores.”

Matt does as he’s told, because it’s Joe telling him to do it. Plus, the woman with the glasses is tapping her heel in their direction. Even though Matt regularly squares up against arms dealers and armed guards, he's still not willing to tick off the Langley secretaries.

They file into the familiar beige and black office, ready to give their usual debrief and sort out which details should be committed to paper and which should be left to rot in the wind. This process is routine enough that it’s practically scripted, and Matt feels a certain sense of comfort in the repetition, even with Rachel’s presence. In fact, some part of him is relieved for her to finally see all this. To finally understand a part of his life that’s been kept from her for so long.

But the moment he enters the room, he realizes that Rachel ain’t the office’s only new addition.

Director Smith is tucked behind his desk, just like always, shuffling through a stack of paper that never seems to get any smaller, no matter how many times they visit. Like always, his black jacket hangs on the back of his chair and his tie is loose at the collar. He’s filled out the mustache he started growing a few years back, in an attempt to look more like Tom Selleck. He looks mostly the same as he always has, except where age and stress make him look a little more weary.

The man across from him is unfamiliar—at least, Matt thinks he is. But a second glance triggers some deep down certainty that they’ve met before, somewhere, sometime, when Matt was least expecting him.

The Director looks up at them all. Smiles. “Ah, welcome home, boys,” he says, in his easy Virginian accent. “And Ms. Cameron. I’ve heard wonderful things.”

“Likewise, sir,” Rachel replies, always the perfect lady.

“How is your sister?” he wonders. “Bored to tears, I suppose.”

“And healing up just fine,” she says. “Which, I keep reminding her, is the important part.”

“Yes, well, as soon as she’s ready to go again, we’ll be happy to have her,” he says. “Send my best to her—and to your father, while you’re at it.”

“Will do, sir.”

The mystery man turns to face them head-on, and Matt gets that feeling again. It’s the eyes that strike him first, dark in a way that makes them look endless. Something about the cut of his jaw, the angle of his nose, the furrow of his brow. It all sends a surge of hot familiarity through Matt’s veins, landing like metal in his mouth.

“I’m eager to hear about your latest findings,” Smith goes on. “But first, I suppose you’ve all noticed we’re not alone.”

It’s the start of an introduction and the mystery man stands to meet it, buttoning the front of his jacket as he goes. His movements strike more familiarity into Matt, resonating at a single frequency in his bones.

“Trusting that you’re all able to keep a secret until the news is made official,” says Smith, with some humor, “I’d like to introduce you to the new Director of Operations for the CIA—Mr. Max Edwards.”

Max Edwards’ dark eyes settle onto Matt, holding a hand out to shake. Matt takes it with a flinch, hand still sore from fighting off memories he can’t remember. “Nice to meet you,” says Max, in low southern drawl just barely above a whisper. “Alexander has told me great things about this task force.”

Max moves on to the next hand, and it’s Joe who has the wherewithal to ask, “New, sir?”

Director Smith stands to join the rest of the room, rounding his desk and leaning against its front. “I’ve been called up the ranks, Mr. Solomon,” he says, arms crossing casually across his chest. “Come autumn, I will be serving as the Deputy Director of the CIA.”

“Congratulations,” says Rachel, sincerely.

“That’s great,” Matt mutters, distracted.

Leave it to Joe to ask, “What does that mean for—?”

Director Smith holds up a hand, already well ahead of Joe and not afraid to show it. “We will, of course, have some details to work out. Rest assured we will have time to do so, though I’d prefer not to speak in great detail with Ms. Cameron present.” He turns to Rachel. “No offense intended.”

“None taken,” Rachel replies. Her gaze meets Joe’s, one final debate between the two of them. She must let him win, because she turns back to Smith and says, “As I understand it, my involvement is better left at need-to-know.”

Matt should be relieved. He should be thankful that something Joe said got through to her. That she isn't pushing for more. That she won’t be the Circle’s next target, and that she won’t have to spend a lifetime in this fight. But he’s just too caught up in the way Max walks. In the way he speaks, and moves, and looks.

Smith nods in her direction. “Unfortunately, I believe that’s a wise decision,” he says. “While your skills would be more than welcome, I’m certain I don’t have to share that the consequences could be quite dire.”

“No sir,” Rachel agrees. “That’s been made clear.”

“Then we will save our discussion for another time,” he concludes. “Until then, the only thing you three need to know is that I will no longer serve as your primary contact on this case. I simply won’t have the time. But I do still hope to stay involved, which is why I wanted to ensure I had someone I trusted in this position.”

All three of them turn to study Max, the man to be trusted. He stands tall. Confident. Certain that he is exactly where he is supposed to be.

“Mr. Edwards will train at my side in the coming months, learning the ins-and-outs of our objectives here,” says Director Smith. “Boys, you’ll be asked to pursue new leads as they come in—no different than before. Ms. Cameron, we’ll work closely with you on your upcoming reports to ensure we commit the correct details to paper. This is among my top priorities as I transition, and Max has expressed similar dedication.”

This all feels so critical and immediate. Matt wishes he could focus, but his brain is caught on repeat, trying to fill the Max Edwards sized hole in his head.

Max clears his throat. “Everything alright, son?” he asks Matt. “You look shaken.”

The set of his shoulders. The crease in his forehead. “I’m sorry sir, it’s just—” he starts, but he hesitates, worried he’ll sound foolish. The whole room watches him, waiting for an answer he ain’t sure about. “I can’t shake the feeling we’ve met before.”

A small sigh rises and falls in Max’s broad chest, something close to a laugh, although Matt can’t imagine this man ever laughing. Max glances toward Director Smith, who grants a permissive node, and Max holds his hands out, putting himself on full display. “You caught me,” he says, simply. “You have seen me before. At the Bolshoi Theatre.”

With the Bolshoi as a background, Matt’s brain handily fills in the rest of the memory. A bag of passports in his hands, Townsend’s voice at his back, and a mysterious man looking up at him from the ground floor. That must be it. “You spotted us,” Matt remembers. “In the balcony. Before we ran.”

To Matt’s credit, Max didn’t look at all like himself in Moscow, done up in a disguise that relied on dark facial hair and heavy Russian garb. That must be why Matt couldn’t identify him on sight. “You were not too hard to spot, I’m afraid.”

This sounds like it could be a joke, but Matt’s not sure, so he replies in earnest, just in case. “Yes, well,” he says. “Moscow has a way of bringing out unexpected circumstances.”

“I’d like to hear more, when we have time,” says Max. “Learn how we can do better in the future.”

“Yessir.”

When Max Edwards smiles, a chill runs down Matt’s spine, and it must be left over from Moscow. From that feeling of having eyes on his back, and not trusting a single step he takes. It always takes a few days to shake off the Soviet Union and this is no exception.

Matt meets Max’s eyes once more, and he's got this strange urge to hide. Slip into a crowd, the way he always does. Let the world dissolve at his back, then come up for air once its safe again.

But Max already found him once, back on a balcony in the the Bolshoi. Who's to say it couldn't happen again? Matt may be a natural Pavement Artist, but Max seems like the type who can see straight through anything. “Gentlemen,” Max says, clasping his hands together. “I think this is the start of a beautiful partnership.”

#im sorry im sorry im sorry #its a hell of a cliffhanger #if it helps #this doesnt get resolved for another few installments #I am big time committing the End Of Season Cliffhanger That Doesnt Matter Yet crime of tv shows #but MAN #what a twist huh???#no idea how this is gonna play out yet #full circle

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