#i have a sneaking suspicion the answer might be 'both'

[avocad1s]

Trial By Combat 7

Requested By: No one. Original Work.

CW: Mentions of war

Summary: The magician and the Traveler exchange information

Note: Psst… guys… it’s here!!

Part One -> Part Six

-

Focalors and the Iudex has concluded their affairs in poor taste. They had left the meeting with more questions rather than answers, and their suspicions only increased a tenfold. Not a word Arlecchino said during that meeting could be taken blindly, she was a harbinger and everyone knew how they operated. To think the Fatui would put the creators safety at risk was a line that should never be crossed.

Only the Knave leaves the Palais Mermonia with a calm air around her. The large group of Fontainians who stood outside the building watched her leave, hoping to get slivers of information from the woman. She walks right through the group, heading towards her decoy ship. She wasn’t dumb enough to bring the ship that had you on it back to the harbor. Someone might be skilled enough to sneak aboard, or worse, you might get off.

Despite the time of day, the streets of Fontaine were quiet. The soft drizzle of rain over the nation seemed to be never ending and the Knave was the only person who was out for a careless stroll that late afternoon.

Once the harbinger rounded the corner, getting closer to the harbor she noticed a small shoppe selling sweets. The Knave didn’t necessarily have a sweet tooth but perhaps you did?

She walks towards the shoppe, staring intently at the goods while the shopkeeper had an uneasy look on his face.

“Was there something you’d like?” the shopkeeper asks, trying his best to swallow his nervousness.

Her eyes flicker to the confectioneries again. She hasn’t had much time to study you, so she wasn’t sure what your taste was. Did you prefer chocolates? Sour candy? Nougat? Arlecchino clicks her tongue. She wants to win your favor, especially before she docks in Snezhnaya.

“I’ll take one of everything you have.” She states.

The shopkeeper stammers. “O-One of everything?”

“Is that not possible?” She questions. “If it’s the mora you worry about, I assure you I have it.”

The shopkeeper hesitates for a moment longer before he quickly begin to pack all of the sweets and candy into two boxes tied perfectly with a red bow. Arlecchino drops a pouch filled with mora onto the counter.

“T—thank you for your patronage!” He says happily as she leaves with the two boxes in her hand.

———

Once the Knave left, you never exited your room. Although you could hear the soft whispers of Fatui agents who debated entering the room. Most of them saying they just want to see you themselves or wanting to check if you needed anything.

You roll your eyes, ever since you woke up in that bed in Fontaine’s hospital you haven’t had time to yourself. Sure you could scream for them to get out and leave you alone, but they would never go too far. Just staying out of sight to avoid invoking your wrath again.

“Your Grace.”

A voice breaks you out of your irritation. It was the Knave. She had returned already… or maybe hours have already passed? You couldn’t tell.

Her gaze flicks down at the plate in front of you. “I see you’ve ate all of your meal. Good.”

Your eyes drift over to the boxes in her hands and she quickly notices your gaze.

“Do you have a sweet tooth, Your Grace?” she asks.

Arlecchino opens one of the boxes presenting the inside to you, it was filled with many candies and baked goods all placed in an orderly fashion.

“I happened to pass a shoppe on my way back to the ship,” she explains. “You haven’t had the time to try any of Fontaine’s desserts so I bought you a few things.”

You raise a brow, looking at both boxes. A few things?!

“Thank you.” You finally say after a moment of silence, you reach into the box bringing one of the treats to your lips and taking a bite.

The Knave smiles in approval, closing the box but placing it close enough for you to reach.

“There’s actually a few things I wanted to talk about.” You say after swallowing.

Arlecchino nods, “Of course. Whatever you wish.” Her eyes focus on you, waiting patiently for you to begin speaking again.

“Oh! Um… I’d like to know more about the Fatui and its harbingers.” you say.

Her eyes narrow slightly, as she taps her chin. “Where should to begin….” Arlecchino states.

-

It’s was lights out in the Fortress of Meropide. Guards patrolled the area making sure all of the inmates were in their designated dorms. While the Duke sat in his office with a cup of tea in his hand. The champion duelist, Clorinde sat across from him, a calm expression on her face.

“You arrived late,” Wriothesley comments, “did you come here to enjoy a cup of tea with me?”

Clorinde huffs, “Certainly not. I came here to inform you about the situation.”

Wriothesley sets down his teacup, “have you been able to locate Their Grace yet?”

“No��” Clorinde sighs, looking down at her lap. “Monsieur Neuvillette and Lady Furina had a meeting with the Knave. It didn’t leave much to be desired… we still cannot confirm if the Knave is responsible for their disappearance.”

Wriothesley leans back in his seat, resting his chin in his palm.

“What are you thinking about?” Clorinde questions.

“Have you heard of those children from the House of the Hearth?” Wriothesley asks.

Clorinde’s eyebrows furrow, “Lyney and Lynette? I have, they were on trial not long ago but were proven innocent.”

Wriothesley nods, “They’re currently in the Fortress for stealing… but i’m sure it was the Knave who sent them here to look into her colleagues whereabouts. I even noticed them asking about the forbidden zone.”

Wriothesley picks up his teacup, “I haven’t taken any action against them yet, since i’m curious where Tartaglia went myself.”

“Do you think it’s possible he escaped?” Clorinde asks crossing her arms.

Wriothesley shrugs, “I’m not sure, but I am sure that we could use those children as a bargaining chip against the Knave.”

“It’s clear those three care deeply about each other…” Wriothesley says. “I’m sure with enough… motivation we can get the evidence we need and get the Knave to return to Fontaine.”

“And what about the forbidden zone?” Clorinde asks changing the subject.

He sighs, “It’s not doing any better. It’s getting closer to the red zone, and if it reaches that, that primordial sea water will overflow inside the Fortress and soon all of Fontaine.”

Clorinde nods, “I’m not even sure Lady Furina or Monsieur Neuvillette have even thought about the prophecy since—“

“I’m aware.” Wriothesley interrupts, “but if we don’t act now, Their Grace won’t have a Fontaine to return to.”

It falls silent in the room for a moment.

Clorinde lets out a sigh as she stand up from her seat. “Well, I have other duties to attend to, if anything else of importance comes up, i’ll be sure to inform you.”

“You’re sure on’t want to stay for a cup of tea first?”

———

———

Unlike most of the inmates, Paimon and the traveler weren’t asleep. They sneak past the guards investigating the Fortress under the cover of darkness until a certain voice quiet calls out to them.

“Hey! Over here!”

Behind a large pillar stood Lyney his head poking out as he waved at the duo.

Aether and Paimon exchange glances.

“You scared Paimon! How did you just appear out of nowhere?”

“Oh? You scare so easily now? Is there something worrying you these days?” Lyney teases with a grin.

Paimon crosses her arms, eyes narrowing, “You little...”

Lyney laughs, “Sorry, sorry. Get over here! and keep it down.”

The two approach the magician and notice his twin sister standing behind him.

“Oh Lynette! You’re here too!”

Lynette nods, “that’s right. My brother just cannot stand to be away from me.”

Lyney rolls his eyes then clears his throat, “Freminet is here too. Do you remember him?”

“Oh that one diver from the House of the Hearth? We’ve seen him around the Court of Fontaine before.” Paimon says.

“Now spill!” She adds, “We worked so hard to get you two off the hook and you still ended up here.”

Lyney lets put a dramatic sigh, taking his hat off his head. “Sadly, even the tiniest things can get you arrested these days. It was a small performance with a large crowd, the opera house incident left us pretty famous.”

“And then?”

“Well then guests wallets suddenly disappeared!”

“My brother was charged with theft and I was charged as his accomplice.” Lynette explains.

“The missing wallets are all in the leftmost drawer of the Maison Gardiennage's big filing cabinet. We just need to see how long it takes to discover them.” Lyney says. “In my opinion, the trick itself was preformed perfectly.”

Aether raises a brow, “So you got sent here on purpose. Why are you really here?”

Lynette glances at her brother and he nods.

“The last time I hid my identity from you. I promised not to keep secrets from then on. We are are friends so…” He places his hat back on his head. “We were instructed by “Father” to conduct an investigation.”

“I knew it! Paimon guessed right.”

“If you don’t know my dear friends, the Fortress hides a large secret. Many even believe the Fortress was built to keep this secret hidden.”

“The House of the Hearth have been investigating this secret for a while now, wanting to uncover the mystery. But then all of our informants, including the ones within the guards suddenly disappeared.” Lyney tells the two.

“We believe it’s a direct provocation. Suddenly all of our informants disappear in a matter of days.” Lynette says.

Aether brings a hand to his chin, ‘a few days? is it somehow related to the Creator’s disappearance?’

“Why is the House so interested in this secret?” Aether asked.

“Somehow, “Father” managed to confirm the Focalors does not have the Gnosis. She believes the secret of the Fortress must be related to that.”

Paimon groans, “so it’s all about the Gnosis again.”

“Well that’s about it from our end.” Lyney says. “What about you two? Did Monsieur Neuvillette send you here?”

“Bingo!” Paimon points, “Neuvillette wants us to investigate. The Knave has been putting a lot of pressure on him about Childe so we came here. We’re also hoping to find out more information about Their—“

“The prophecy.” Aether interjected shooting his travel guide a look. “He’s also concerned about the prophecy.”

“Ah yes, the prophecy!” Lyney says, “Father is worried about it too… hey I have an idea, why don’t we team up? The House of the Hearth has many reasons to seek the Gnosis, but our highest priority remains resolving the prophesized crisis. You can trust us on that.”

Aether sighs shaking his head, “Sorry, I must refuse.”

The twins had a look of disappointment on their faces.

“See? I told you…” Lynette grumbled.

“I see… it might be pretty difficult to get you two to cooperate with us.”

“Lyney has been looking forward to reaching an understanding with you since we’ve met.” Lynette admits.

“Just tell them everything why don’t you Lynette…” Lyney says his face growing red.

His sister places a hand on his shoulder, “it’s okay to open up a little…”

Aether sighs pinching the bridge of his nose, “Fine. We can work together, but only exchanging important information. Nothing more.”

The magicians smile, “Wonderful! I was prepared for the worse but your prudent attitude is just as consistent from the first time we met. But since we’re exchanging information now, here’s something you might like.”

“During our investigation, we discovered a place called the forbidden zone.” Lyney begins, “most people wouldn’t talk about it at first but we soon learned from the guards that this place does exist.”

“A forbidden zone…? Could that be where Childe disappeared to?” Paimon questions.

“We’re not entirely sure yet. Although we confirmed its existence, we still haven’t found it ourselves.” Lyney replies.

“Anyways that the most useful information we have as of now, we’re still doing some more investigating but hopefully it can prove most useful to you.”

Aether nods, “We should return to our dormitories, the guards shift change will be happening soon.”

Lyney and Lynette nod. “Very well. I’ll use my cards to get in touch with you in the future, but until then—“

Lyney pulls one of his signature cards from behind his ear, before him and his sister disappear from sight.

-

-

“So Lyney and Lynette are here for the gnosis.” Paimon says, once they return back to their dorms.

“Let’s not forget what Neuvillette told us. The vial found in Their Graces hospital room, whatever was in it originated from Snezhnaya. The House of the Hearth are used to sneak missions so maybe it was them who brought the vial to the Creator.” Aether explains and Paimon nods.

“That makes Paimon think, is Childe even missing? Or was this a ploy from the beginning and now Childe and the Knave are returning to Snezhnaya with them?”

“There is definitely more information to be discovered” Aether adds, “But for now we should focus on getting some rest and continue our investigation tomorrow.”

Paimon yawns, “You’re right. All this thinking is making Paimon sleepy.”

Aether lays down on his back, his gaze focused on the ceiling until his eyes grow heavy and he falls asleep.

JADE CHAMBER , LIYUE

Ningguang and the rest of the Qixing sat at the large table in the Jade Chamber. There were papers piled up on the table, old scriptures related to the Creator and of Fontaine’s history. Including the Steambird post that was posted after their conviction.

The head of the Qixing was growing increasingly frustrated despite her neutral tone. Ever since it arrived in Liyue from Captain Beidou, she had reread the document every hour. She could recall all the punctuation used in the newspaper.

“I’ve sent many letters to the Hydro Archon.” Keqing says her hands laced in front of her. “It’s been close to a week and still no response.”

Ningguang sighs, “I see. It seems like they do not have any intentions of discussing this. We might have to send a diplomat, perhaps they’d be more willing for a peaceful discussion in person.”

“I agree.” Ganyu says, “but the Adepti are growing restless… they want to make the trip themselves to save Their Grace.”

“Have the Adepti even left Liyue before?” Yelan questioned from her spot in the corner.

“Not for a long time, they are still fulfilling their contract… but there is a stipulation in the contract that Their Grace comes above all else.”

Keqing sighs, “this is a mortal matter, we don’t need their involvement.”

Ningguang looks back down at the paper, “Considering the fact that it was a mortal who struck down Their Grace, they might not see it that way. But we can’t afford to expend our resources to keep the Adepti in check.”

“Leave them to me,” Ganyu reassures, “If the Adepti truly do get involved, I fear it might start another war…”

A chill fills the room and Ningguang stand up brushing her hair away. “That’s a worse case scenario… let’s hope it doesn’t come down to that.”

“There are other matters as well,” Yelan suddenly says, her fingers brushing against the jacket on her shoulders.

“I saw one of the harbingers… the Regrator here in Liyue yesterday. At first, I was watched his movements and all he did was pull all the money out of the Northland bank and closed it until further notice.”

Ningguang raises a brow, “Is he still in Liyue?”

“No.” Yelan shakes her head. “He took the first ship back to his homeland early this morning… but it feels suspicious to suddenly close the most profitable bank the Fatui has.”

“I can go to Fontaine, I’ll be the diplomat and confirm Their Grace’s status.” Keqing says while standing up.

“I’m going to return to Jueyun Karst,” Ganyu states. “I’ll try my best to keep the Adepti in check. If anything problems arise, I’ll send word as soon as possible.”

“Thank you all of you,” Ningguang says, “Our main priority should be confirming the safety of Their Grace and hopefully bringing them here to Liyue.”

-

“…r Grace…”

“Your… G”

“Your Grace…”

Your eyes open. When did you fall asleep?

You sit up rubbing your eyes noticing an unusual chill in the air, all of a sudden it felt like winter. Yet at the same time, you noticed you had on a black and white coat, it had the same insignia that was on the side of the boat.

“Your Grace…”

You look over, it was Arlecchino calling for you again and again. She was also in a similar coat.

“Are you cold?” She asks.

“A little bit.” You admit, even with the coat on you still felt a chill on your bones but you weren’t sure if it was due to the weather or the extremely dangerous individual next to you.

“Don’t worry there are a lot of fireplaces inside.” She says.

She grasps your hand gently leading you up the stairs to the top of the ship.

It was extremely bright, practically blinding as the sun shined down on the thick layer of snow that went on as far as you could see. Even with the sun shining, none of the snow and ice seemed to melting. Off in the distance was a large palace, it was decorated beautifully and was completely coated in ice.

Your attention is then drawn to the dock, there were seven individuals standing looking up at you. Although most of them had a mask on their face, you could tell they were all waiting with baited breaths.

The one in the middle, a mask covering half of his face and with white hair bows towards you slightly and the others follow suit.

“Welcome to Snezhnaya, Your Grace.”

© avocad1s 2024

Note: HAHA I BEAT NATLAN 🙏🙏🙏🙏 ehem… anyways… I hope you enjoyed this part! and like always i appreciate your patience love you all and i hope you win your 50/50 for any character you want 🫶🏽

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[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

stages - j. marino

summary: from gym girl to girlfriend

warnings: john x f!reader, swearing, fluff, mentions of a cold/flu and a broken wrist, mention of the reader running and catering business, consumption of painkillers/flu medicine

word count: 6.6k

“You’re not going to stick around?” 

You stopped walking, your attention solely focused on trying to find your car keys from the deep depths of a hectic gym bag, but even you couldn’t deny that the sound of an increasingly familiar voice distracted you. 

It was a consequence of using the gym closest to the rink, you supposed. That, or just sheer chance that your gym of choice was also the exact gym that John Marino chose to frequent. But it was honestly just one heck of a fucking coincidence that each time you stepped foot inside the building, he was also there. Somehow you’d – against your will – managed to go from polite greetings on the treadmill to considering each other friends.

It was a weird dynamic, one that didn’t particularly extend outside of this one gym, but he was clearly comfortable enough to insinuate he wanted you to hang around a little while longer. If you didn’t already know his plans for the day you’d have probably thrown him an amused glance, or maybe even entertained the thought.

You shook your head, fingers clasping eagerly around your keys, before finally turning to look at him. He was wearing a compression shirt, his hair only slightly damp because this short trip of his was only to warm himself up before he’d journey across the street to the practice rink, and there was a careful kind of look on his face. He was watching your reaction, head tilted, hands wringing a water bottle.

He already knew what your answer would be, because like you knew his plans, he knew yours, and even though he knew the effort was futile, it would never stop him trying.

“Are you ever gonna come and watch me skate?”

You shrugged, watching him walk over to his own locker and pull out a hoodie, “I’ve seen you skate.”

He shook his head adamantly, making for the door and holding it open for you to follow him, “Not in person, that’s different.”

You were about to protest, knowing exactly where this conversation was heading, but before you could, he pulled a face, and whatever was about to follow you knew was going to be a teasing jab in your direction, “Oh, wait. I think I get it, you just want to see me up close, because you won’t get that if you come to a game? You’ll miss looking at my face.”

You huffed a laugh, “That psychology degree is finally getting put to use, huh?” 

The teasing smile was still on his face, even as he turned to look at you right as you both walked out of the building and into the daylight. He was confused, the slight and fractional twitch of his eyebrow showed that, as did the way his mouth seemed to twist as his brain reworked your words.

It must have been because you didn’t deny his words that made him falter in his step and squint into the sun. You felt your cheeks heat up and your attention was thankfully stolen by the hollers and shouts from the other side of the street – you couldn’t make out the face from where you were standing, but from the size of the pairing alone, it looked like the Hughes brothers waving on the sidewalk.

“Maybe next time.” You muttered quietly, more to yourself than to the curly haired man in front of you, because if you didn’t say the words aloud like some kind of mantra, you knew you might actually never end up seeing him skate. This way, the promise felt real. And he seemed to have heard your voice carry over the slight breeze because he almost snapped his neck turning to look at you, and every morsel in your body recoiled at his quick reaction, “I’ll let you get going.” You stuffed your hands in your pockets, avoiding his eyes (he still hadn’t said anything, but there was absolutely no doubt in your mind that he had something to say).

“I’ll see you later.” He mumbled, nodding. 

*** 

You had a sneaking suspicion that John didn’t know you were here – in fact, it wasn’t really a suspicion, you knew he didn’t know you were here. It was partly down to the fact that he’d already asked you and you’d had to decline because, technically, this was a work thing, it just so happened that his work thing and your work thing were the same work thing.

You’d been debating on how to approach him, mostly when you should have been paying attention to whoever it was that you were in a conversation with, but he just kept catching your eye. You didn’t know if he was just in a spot that you seemed to naturally redirect your eyes to, or if his almost lonely mood was catching you off guard. 

He was a talkative person once you got to know him, but he’d spent the majority of the night stuck shoulder to shoulder with Luke Hughes, the two of them clearly muttering comments to each other under their breaths, usually one that would send them both spiralling into short fits of laughter before they’d inevitably straighten and try to look more professional in the face of a big boss or investor walking past. 

It was weird seeing him in such a formal setting, and in a suit nonetheless. Fuck, if you knew he could clean up that well, you’d have been eagerly accepting his game invites just on the off chance that you’d see him dressed up. It was certainly different to seeing him in his shorts or joggers and a gym top – not that an outfit choice such as that was entirely unappealing (it most certainly wasn’t – he wore his gym clothes very well) for someone like him; meaning he could pull off a plastic bin bag if he really wanted to.

You hadn’t really spoken to each other since the other day and that awkward comment was made. Even the texting seemed to have slowed a little bit, and if it wasn’t for his ‘are you busy tomorrow night?’ message, you’d have just assumed he wasn’t even interested and taken a hint and left him alone until you’d found yourself enamoured by someone else.

Though…looking at him now, smile lines making a full appearance and grinning mischievously, you weren’t entirely sure it would be too easy to even look in someone else’s direction when what was in front of you was so incredible.

That being said, the person in front of you wasn’t John in any way, shape, or form. You didn’t know who they were or what they did, but they were talking to you about something to do with hockey equipment–

“I’m the caterer.” You blurted, cringing almost apologetically when they halted with their glass halfway to their mouth, a look of mild shock passing over their features.

“Oh.” They started, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I thought you were the…nevermind, I apologise.” They hurried to correct themselves, and they were being so polite about it all you couldn’t help it when you jumped in.

“No, please don’t apologise, I should have said something sooner.” There was a brief pause where the both of you shared an amused look, “But if you want to know about the food?”

Their eyes seemed to light up, “Is there a dairy-free option?” 

“Yeah, there is. You want me to show you?” 

“Please.” They nodded gratefully, eagerly hurrying after you, and it was just then that John saw you out of the corner of his eye.

Granted, it wasn’t necessarily you that he saw, but a flurry of quick motion in his periphery. The kind of quick motion that would normally draw the eye under any circumstance, and it was as his eyes slid back to Luke that he felt something click in his brain – he didn’t quite understand what it was until his eyes returned back to…you.

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry and his lips parting, all completely against his will. He blinked once, twice, then three times just to be on the safe side, but…you were still there: talking animatedly to one of the sponsors and pointing to the food assortment along the table with a bright grin on your face. 

Luke’s mouth was moving but John swore there wasn’t any sound coming out, or nothing of that much value, anyway, because his entire attention was completely devoted to you, as he always seemed to find it. He felt his jaw clench, confusion beginning to stir as his mind reworked old conversations for something that he might have missed.

Boyfriend? No.

Family relations? He didn’t think so.

Did you know anyone else on the team? He was the only one, he was sure of it.

Work?

Work. He remembered you’d mentioned something about catering, but he’d just assumed you worked in a restaurant with how vague you’d been about it all.

But it made sense.

“Isn’t that your Gym Girl?” Luke bumped into his shoulder, his voice dripping with awe, and John wanted to cover his eyes. He wanted to grab Luke by the shoulders and physically turn his attention elsewhere, and that sudden desire to keep you out of his reach struck a nerve.

He’d never found Luke annoying before. He didn’t like it that much.

Instead, however, he schooled his expression into one that gave the impression that, yes, he knew you’d be here, and shrugged, still keeping his eyes on your figure, “She has a name.”

Luke ignored his comment, “She’s…wow.”

John frowned, turning to Luke and taking in the little glint in his eye and the drop of his jaw. He was beginning to find the child incessantly annoying, even if he was right in his words – “Jack wants you, look.” This time John actually laid his hands on Luke and twisted him to point over to where Jack was watching them rather curiously, sheer dumb look he supposed, and pushed him in his brother’s direction before making the rather bold decision to interrupt your conversation before he could psych himself out too much.

It had been a good few days since he’d last seen you, and since then he didn’t think he’d actually had any mental reprieve from your earlier conversation about him finally putting his degree to use, and if he was honest, John kind of wanted an answer. He’d like to bring it up somehow, maybe later on in the evening or maybe not even tonight – but if there was one thing he’d describe himself as, he’d probably say he was pretty good at checking off a to-do list once it had been established, and getting to the root of that was definitely on there somewhere.

It wasn’t a priority, though.

But talking to you must be, because before he could even register the sickening thump of nervousness in his chest, he’d found himself standing directly to your right, one hand awkwardly holding his tie in place and his other shoved into the pocket of his suit pants.

You were still talking to the other person about the food, and he decided – for the sake of not wanting to interrupt – he’d made a dire mistake, and immediately changed course and darted left, only to find himself in front of a blank wall within a few short strides.

He sighed, placing his hands on his cheeks, and automatically pulled his phone out of his pocket with the faux urgency he’d mastered in the face of an awkward situation: wherever he felt a little bit too self-conscious in a public space, he’d reach for his phone. It gave his hands something to do, his brain something to be distracted by, and to onlookers it might make it seem like his awkwardness and fumbling was intentional: after all, no one could really avoid an important call or text, could they?

This time, though, he inhaled deeply, attempting to calm his nerves. He knew part of it was because he was technically at work, with his colleagues that were probably watching his every move if Luke had blabbed as expected – and that just added a whole new layer of pressure that he hadn’t previously considered before. 

Was it why you kept shooting down his invitation to a game? His teammates could be intimidating if they wanted to be.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, a string of messages – your messages to each other – pulled up. He blinked, frowning briefly, unable to recall even opening his message app, let alone seeking out your contact.

He’d been doing it more often, actually–

“Hi.” 

He whirled around on his heel, jacket flapping with the brusqueness of the motion, and came to face you. He slid his phone back into his pocket, never really finding the strength to concentrate too much on where he was placing it, and before he could even consider replying, there was a dull thud and you were holding his phone out towards him, looking equally as apprehensive as he was.

“Thanks.” He muttered breathlessly, a flash of warmth tingling his hands.

You just nodded, your own hands fiddling with themselves in front of you, and he was watching – at least, he was until you seemed to become aware he was watching you do it and then you hid them behind your back almost instinctively.

He cleared his throat, eyes flicking back up to your face, “Fancy seeing you here.”

And he did fancy seeing you here, if he was being honest with himself. You looked lovely. You always do, but there’s something a little bit more thrilling to him about seeing you here wearing more formal clothes than seeing you inside a gym wearing sports gear.

It was a nice change, he decided.

You cracked a smile at his comment, and before he could think too much into it, he was echoing the same sentiment back at you, “I know, right? You’re gonna be sick of me by the end of the night.”

“Oh, please.” He shrugged, unable to help himself, “That could never happen.”

He froze, hand once again attempted to put his phone inside his blazer pocket. He couldn't do anything, not even breathe, as he waited for your reaction. His words had slipped out a little too easily and with not enough hesitancy. He hadn’t even had time to think that maybe he shouldn’t have said that, before you stepped in, thankfully not too taken aback by it.

“Never say never.”

And he swore, right as his phone dropped into the pocket, that he felt something in him snap at the expression on your face and your sudden change in demeanour. But you seemed to flick out of it almost as soon as you’d done it, because in the next instant you were happier somehow, and he just knew that teasing lilt in your tone was more self-deprecating than he would have liked to think.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you, I don’t even know, I guess I was trying to surprise you?” You got out, eyes darting everywhere but his face. 

Maybe it was because he was beginning to take the breath out of your lungs with every second you spent actually looking at him, or maybe it was because you were conscious of other eyes watching you both from afar, but there was something a little bit odd about the way you were feeling in that moment.

It felt like you wanted…John. The man in front of you. In a ‘hold his hand’ way.

Which was new.

So, the crush had intensified. It was the exact thing you had to realise at that moment in time. How terribly inconvenient of you.

It could only go downhill from here, couldn’t it?

John did something with his face, and you glanced at him, noting the smile lines in his cheek from a closed-mouth smile, “It was a pretty nice surprise.”

There was a lull in conversation, the both of you awkwardly looking at each other and then looking away, trying not to show the smiles on both of your faces. It was a weird coincidence that you’d been chosen as the caterer for such a large event for such a well-known team, but here you were, amidst John’s teammates – of who you’d been putting off meeting sheerly for the reason that it might be a little weird for the girl from his gym to purposefully attend a game or practice session with the intention of doing just that, but you supposed it couldn’t really hurt if it was classed as a ‘work thing’.

Although, the man next to you certainly made the entire night more bearable. An hour and a half later you two were still talking to each other, sitting down this time with your kneecaps touching and an elbow resting on one of the tables, unconsciously tuning out nearly everyone and everything else.

It felt cliche and you almost felt sorry for inadvertently stealing him away from his teammates just because you happened to be there, but you couldn’t really find it within yourself for that to be a genuine concern. It was the longest you’d ever talked to each other, really. A coffee after the gym was sometimes in the cards, but usually you’d just forgo wearing headphones when you saw his car parked in the lot and spend the hour in the gym talking to each other – but it never got this far.

Your attention was stolen momentarily by a sudden dimming of the lights and a change in the music, and a flurry of bodies slowly tiptoed out to the supposed ‘dancefloor’. The person you’d been talking to earlier was there; there were players with their partners; coaches with their partners; parents with their kids.

You turned to look at John, an eyebrow raised in question at the spectacle, but he had a kind of soft haze about him as he watched his people begin to dance with each other; it wasn’t anything particularly special – some people were off to the side chatting and some people were just swaying, but it was obvious it had become a kind of tradition at these kinds of events.

“All staff and players are recommended to stand up at this point,” he started talking, head still turned towards the floor, giving you a perfect view of his side profile, and you watched him talk fondly, “Apparently it encourages people to get ‘more involved’ or something.” And then he shrugged, inhaling and turning back to you, halting at the look on your face, “What?”

“You’re still sitting.”

“I’m talking to you.”

That shut you up a bit: he’d said it so quickly and with such fierce conviction, as though there couldn’t even be single other reason for him not doing as he was told, and all you could do was roll your eyes and breathe a short huff of laughter, trying with all your might not to read into it too much or blush under the lights.

You’d done so well not to, so far.

“You don’t have to, you…don’t you network at these things?” 

He blinked, tilting his head in an amused fashion, “Network? Hm, that’s cute.” 

You stared right at him, unimpressed, “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you have to chat up the sponsors?”

Instead of answering your question, he turned briefly to the crowd of people on the floor, not uttering a word – and if you’d known him any less, you’d have just assumed he hadn’t heard you at all, but the look he’d got on his face indicated he was clearly thinking about something. There was a slight furrow in the middle of his brows, and his mouth was twisted thoughtfully.

You hadn’t even realised you were staring until he turned quite brusquely back to you, a hint of a mischievous smile on his face as he did so, “Who are you going to dance with?”

You felt your face drop more than you realised you were doing it at all, and the comical jump of his brows was enough to tell you he’d anticipated your reaction. 

“I’m working.” You excused, almost scoffing at the question.

“You’ve already worked. The food’s been made and put out. Who are you going to dance with?” He repeated the question with a considerable amount of vigour, and you had an inkling he asked it sheerly for coaxing a specific answer out of you.

You narrowed your eyes, dragging out the silence a little longer than what was necessary. You contemplated teasing him – maybe mentioning Nico – but ultimately opted on the side of caution.

“With you.” 

He just grinned.

***

You blinked wearily, your head heavy and fuzzy and your wrist in so much agony is hurt to even stand up under the force of gravity. The hand in the cast was painfully cold, the fingers freezing to the touch, and you found yourself wincing on instinct as you used your other hand to curl the fingers into your fist. 

You felt a little bit sick, if you were being honest. The painkillers must have worn off mid-nap on the couch because as soon as you’d pushed yourself into a sitting position a shooting throb seemed to echo right from the crack in your wrist bone to the very tips of your toes, and you walked rather blearily to the pile of meds on the table, washing some painkillers down with water.

It hadn’t even occurred to you that you’d been woken up because of something else until a knock sounded at your door, quite frantically. You stood in the middle of your living room rather dumbly, only able to tug your hoodie sleeve further down the bulky cast to cover the tip of your fingers, your brain too exhausted to even contemplate what the knock could mean or who it could be.

Your feet didn’t move, and you found nothing in you reacted to the sound like you usually would have. On a normal day you’d have jumped up to peer through the peephole to see who it was – but that didn’t happen. 

At least not until a rather dull thump echoed across your door and an equally tired groan could be heard from the other side.

That sent your mind working again, because you knew that voice, though not in that context. There was just something recognisable about the undertones there that seemed to ring a rather important bell in your head, and you stepped forward, peeking through the hole just to be sure.

As luck would have it, there leaned a mop of curly hair just next to the number on your door, and you didn’t even need to see that familiar slope of his nose or the shape of his mouth to know who it was. He lifted his head, and from the resignation in his face you could tell he was just about to walk away.

You probably would have let him: you hadn’t actually managed to tell anyone other than your parents that you’d broken your wrist, for a variety of reasons: there wasn’t any cell service in the hospital; you’d got back to your apartment and immediately passed out from exhaustion and pain; and you’d broken your dominant wrist, which meant doing just about anything was twice the faff, and you hadn’t quite mastered the art of charging your phone or texting with one hand only without getting frustrated ( you’d actually thrown it across your bed and lost it in the small gap between the frame and the wall). And the idea of opening the door to him all ‘surprise!’ didn’t seem particularly appealing.

Or it wouldn’t have if he didn’t look as exhausted as you felt, with a red nose, pale cheeks and the packet of tissues clutched in his hand. He clearly wasn’t too well either.

“Wait!” You called through the door, voice still groggy and hoarse, and tried to unlock your door as quickly as you could without fumbling the chain or accidentally shutting the door before you could wedge your foot in the crack to prise it open with your non-injured hand.

You hid the cast behind your back, trying to appear chipper as you held your door open with your foot and smiled politely. It felt a little futile, though, with the way he seemed to blink uncertainty as his attention zipped to the bags under your own eyes and the lack of colour in your cheeks.

“Hi.” You mumbled, your brain still a bit of a jumble as you almost slurred your words.

He yawned, leaning his head against your door frame in an adorable manner and clearing his throat, “Hi.”

You had to stop yourself from lifting your hand up to comb his curls back from his forehead, and instead opted to give in to your instincts and smiled softly at him. 

He reciprocated it, albeit a little sadly, “I thought you died.”

The smile on your face turned upside down, and instead of replying, you opened your door further, letting him step inside, still ensuring to keep your hand behind your back and away from his eyes until you felt as though you could tell him properly.

“You didn’t come to the gym last night and I texted but you didn’t answer, and you always come to the gym even if you’re sick, and I was just a bit worried, y’know?” He rambled, wandering towards your bathroom, “And then I woke up this morning and had to phone in sick because I feel like shit and I remember seeing the cold medications in your cu–”

He stopped, eyeing the packets of painkillers on the coffee table with both intrigue and concern, before turning to face you, eyes trying to justify any possible reason for that many packets to be out and already consumed, until his gaze came to a stop on the arm concealed behind your back. One hand came up to point at you, but before he could get any words out, he succumbed to three rather violent sneezes, all in immediate succession of each other, and by the time he’d finished, his eyes seemed redder and his cheeks even paler than before.

In fact, he blinked hard before moving himself to sit on the sofa, his head between his hands, still and silent.

“John?” You frowned, coming to sit beside him, this time uncaring if he saw the cast on your wrist or not, and placed one hand on his thigh. His eyes were screwed shut and his jaw was held ajar and crooked, deep breaths inflating his lungs slowly.

“Dizzy.” He groaned, pressing his thumbs to the bridge of his nose, and you inhaled sharply, continuing his journey to the bathroom and pulling out the necessary packets for him. You poured him a glass of water, coming to sit beside him once more, this time having some trouble popping out the tablets with one hand, and it was a particularly frustrated sigh that had him blinking cautiously to watch you.

“So, you’ve come to steal my drugs and give me your germs, huh?” You muttered fondly, about to ask him for help, but he interrupted before you could say anything else.

“What the fuck?” He mumbled, clearly ignorant to your teasing comment, his eyes fixated on your cast before trailing up to your face, moving slowly so as to not disturb another episode of dizziness.

You cringed, “I broke my wrist yesterday.” 

There was a beat of silence when you watched him watch you, heart pounding a little harder than it usually would due to the unfamiliar situation. John was always caring, always wanting to help in some way, and you adored him for it, but this was a little different.

This time you guys were in a new relationship…and there was  a small part of you that was a little worried that he’d take this as you not trusting him.

“How?” He blinked, the one word obviously not the only thing he wanted to say, but something he’d settled for for the sake of it.

You shook your palm, trying to get him to take the pills from you, and he did, swallowing them with the glass of water on the coffee table, before physically turning himself to face you, the look on his face suggesting he wasn’t about to do anything until you answered his question.

“I was…” You inhaled sharply, eyes darting from his face and the flaming of your cheeks only seemed to make you more nervous for what you were about to tell him, and instead busied yourself with picking up the box of tissues on the coffee table and holding it out for him to take, “I was with one of my friends, and she was teaching me to skate.” Your voice trailed off pathetically, almost too embarrassed to even look in his general direction.

You could imagine he was blinking, trying to make the words compute in his head, eyes boring into the side of your face like a madman. Maybe he was managing a small smile, too.

“Teaching you?” He asked, voice somehow rough and soft at the same time, and it was the warmth in his tone along with the complete lack of judgement that had you hesitantly taking a peek at him out of the corner of your eye.

You’d been right – on some level. He was hiding an amused smile behind his hand, and his eyes were wide with pleasant shock.

You nodded, rolling your eyes, “Teaching, yeah.”

He faltered, mouth open as though he was going to say something and thought better of it, before ultimately deciding to go through with it, “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because it’s embarrassing.”

“What’s so embarrassing about breaking a wrist?”

“No, it’s embarrassing that I don’t know how to skate. I didn’t call you because there’s no cell service in the ER and then it pissed me off that I couldn’t type quickly enough and now my phone is wedged down the side of my bed and I can’t reach it.” You rambled, eyes widening in a rather self-deprecating manner, “Then I passed out.”

He sniffed, plucking a tissue from the box, his other hand almost going to hold yours before thinking better of it, “Did you go to the hospital by yourself?”

You shook your head, leaning back against the sofa.

“What did the doctors say about it?”

“It’s a Colles fracture, so I’m gonna have to wear a cast for a few weeks before they change it for a splint.” You sighed, picking at the end of the cast with disdain. The painkillers had eased some of the pain to a throb that seemed to beat on time to your pulse, but it was still uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. And you were exhausted, as was the man next to you.

“I’d touch you but I don’t want to give you my germs.”

If he hadn’t looked so genuinely upset at that you might have said something else, maybe teased him a little, but with the heaviness tugging at his features already, you tilted your head, “You do look pretty rough.”

He rolled his eyes, a gap-toothed grin showing itself, “Thanks.”

“Still cute, though.” You grinned, nudging his hoodie clad arm with your own, unable to help yawning nearly immediately after, “Do you want to stay and have a nap?”

He raised his brows, clearly a little surprised by the offer, “Even when I’ve got the lurgy?”

You shrugged, “I’m probably gonna get it at some point anyway. Better to be ill together at the same time.”

“Even with your broken wrist?” 

You paused, acting like you were considering changing your mind, and John huffed a laugh. You could tell he was unsure about your proposal, maybe he’d feel a bit guilty giving you his cold when you were already in a state yourself, because it was clear he was holding himself back from being his usual affectionate-self.

“Do you have an ulterior motive?” He asked, raising a suspicious brow.

“Not entirely, but I might need you to reach my phone.”

It wasn’t even fifteen minutes later that you were both cuddled up under your covers, your phone now safely plugged in and charging, you on the brink of sleep when John seemed to jolt up in remembrance of something. His sudden motions had your heart beating and a shot of adrenaline coursing through your body, perhaps thinking he was en route to throw up or something, but when you turned on your bedside lamp, he was grinning lazily, his eyes a little sleepy.

“What?”

He breathed a laugh, “Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t know how to skate?”

You shrugged, “I was gonna surprise you, I guess. You said there was that skate thing coming up, right? I was gonna suggest we go, but I wanted to practise and…it didn’t go very well.”

The cheeky grin seemed to melt off his face at your quiet admission, replaced by a softer, more sincere one, “You were gonna say yes to that?”

You pressed your lips together self-consciously, unable to help feeling strangely vulnerable with the intensity in his stare. You were very aware of the fact that you didn’t look your best, wearing Barbie PJ’s, and your hair was an absolute mess. Add that on top of not having had the chance to shower, you were pretty positive you didn’t smell too great either (you did douse yourself in deodorant earlier), so it felt almost unjustifiable that you were on the receiving end of such a look.

“Yeah.” You muttered, “I thought it best to at least try to look like I knew what I was doing if I was gonna be in the presence of professional skaters and cameras.”

His brows jumped up his forehead animatedly, head unintentionally leaning closer to yours in excitement. One of your favourite things about him had to be the way he was so unashamed to show enthusiasm for even the smallest things – it was always written so seamlessly and effortlessly in the way he’d nod his head when he was listening to you or the way he’d hold himself to show you he was interested. It had always tugged on your heartstrings, even when you’d first met him.

He didn’t say anything, but there was an odd expression on his face, like he was having an internal discussion with himself, and before you could stop it, you blurted a rather impatient “What?”.

He pulled a face, cheeks reddening slightly despite the chill to his skin, “I don’t know how to – I’m not good at talking about it, I’m not sure how to talk about it because it’s kind of overwhelming in a way that I can’t string the words together or something, but…” he sighed, “If I loved you less I might be able to talk about it more, and–Aargh.”

“You just quoted Mr Knightley.” You interrupted, eyes widening upon realising just what you’d interrupted him from saying.

“That’s what you got from that?”

You paused, eyes darting across the shadows of his face. You could just make out the smile lines on his face and the slow, weary blinks as he fought off the sleep he’d been dying to succumb to, and if wasn’t for the fact that he’d instigated this half-asleep conversation you’d probably feel a smithereen of guilt for teasing him in that state, but all you could do was nod and attempt to conceal just how smitted you felt. Fatigue tended to lower your inhibitions.

“Well, no, but…” 

His grin seemed to widen and he pressed his face into your pillow, curls begging for you to run your hand through, and sent you a rather expectant glance that had you rolling your eyes fondly.

“You know I love you too. It just…”

“It still feels weird, huh?” He murmured, raising a brow and widening his eyes after a snotty sniff, “I still get nervous.”

“With me?”

He breathed a laugh, “Saying it. You just constantly floor me, I wouldn’t say you made me nervous, not like you used to.”

“The novelty’s worn off a bit, huh?”

“I prefer it that way.” He gave a short, self-deprecating huff, “I can function around you now.”

***

Luke knew John had been hiding something for weeks, if not months. And each time he cast his mind back to trace the source, the one thing that kept coming up was that Gala and Gym Girl being the surprise caterer – probably one or two days before John had shaken his head rather despondently after Luke had asked if she’d said yes yet. After that night (each and every time Luke looked over their way, they were both completely enamoured with each other, ignorant to anyone else passing by at that moment in time), John had changed.

Whether it was just how generally happy he’d been lately, even without saying it; whether it was his sudden attachment to his phone; whether it was keeping an overnight bag in his car – it didn’t take a genius to figure out something was up, Luke felt he was proof enough of that. But what he wasn’t quite sure of, was if anyone else had noticed the slight change in the older Defenceman.

John was a quiet type, Luke could happily yap to him and he’d nod along and ask questions when it was appropriate to, but he wasn’t entirely sure if he was like that with just him, or if it was just a John-thing.

Yet, here they all were – the team, families, friends…John. With a girl. The girl: Gym Girl.

And because Luke had spent so much time with him, he knew that John wouldn’t bring someone to these kinds of events if it wasn’t serious. It’d have probably been serious for a while and just kept quiet to let them both figure things out between them – Luke understood that.

In fact, it was Jack’s innocently curious question that made Luke feel a little bit more smug than he probably should have.

“Who’s that John’s with?”

Luke glanced over at the pair once more: John with a sweet smile on his face that he’d never seen directed at anyone else ever before; his girlfriend with a cast on her wrist skating like a baby giraffe, John holding onto her pretty tightly as she wobbled on her blades.

It was a cute sight, Luke could admit that. 

“His girlfriend.” He replied, fighting a smile when Jack’s head snapped in his direction, shock dripping from every feature.

“His what?”

“Girlfriend.” Luke grinned this time, “Y’know, his romantic part–”

“I know what a girlfriend is, you little shit.” Jack sighed, “When did that happen?”

Luke shrugged, “A while back, I think.”

Neither of the brothers said anything, but Luke was wondering if anyone else had had the same conversation within the last twenty minutes. Nico was talking to Timo, Curtis was hanging around with some of the media people – had they all asked the same questions, or did they already know?

“If you could pick someone on our team to get married and not tell us until they’ve got kids, who wou–”

“John.” Luke interrupted Jack, the both of them sharing a knowing smile.

[solarwonux]

Business Proposal || knj (9/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst, fluff, flirting, semi-edited, smut, fingering, eating out, unprotected sex.

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 8.0

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

A/n: lol, hello, I'm sorry for being so MIA lately. I kinda have had half of this written since November but my mom came to visit me in Korea and I forgot about it haha. If you are still here thank you for sticking around! Enjoy! Let me know your thoughts!

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10 Years Ago

Things were finally looking up.

“If you just remember everything we have gone over you'll be fine.” He simply says like it's no big deal, waving you off. 

You on the other hand are filled with the gnawing pain of your nerves. As you look down at your notebook filled with an equal mixture of correct and incorrect answers. 

Maybe things weren't really looking up. 

“I think we should do a few more.” You rush out, flipping to a new page. In that exact moment, the buzzer in Namjoon's hand goes off, and he stands up. 

He pushes in his chair and walks to stand beside you, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Over studying is not the answer.” He says gently, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before walking away to pick up your drinks. 

Your protest dying as you burn daggers into his back. You aren't sure if it's a good thing that he has so much faith in you. When you don't have an ounce in yourself. Especially when in two days you'll hopefully end your misery with the dreaded math final. 

It's been two whole months since you've started your weekly tutoring sessions with Namjoon. You aren't completely lost in class anymore. If you are, you just come to the broad man and drown him in all kinds of questions. With this tactic you've even managed to get an eighty-five present in your last math test. 

The only thing left for you to pass is the stupid final.

You have been seeing Namjoon a lot more this week. Scheduling, and practically begging him to squeeze you into his tight schedule since Monday. A request to brush up on equations and gain some clarity on things you might have forgotten. To say the least, your test anxiety has reached a whole new level. You visibly look exhausted, your skin is oilier than usual, sporting a few painful pimples on your chin, and your hair looks so greasy despite just washing it in the morning. You should feel slightly ashamed for even leaving your house looking like a hot mess, but your thoughts are suffocating. Staying in would make the panic in the pit of your stomach worse. 

Especially when you and your tutor have recently discovered your inability to do word problems. The main reason why you keep calling Namjoon at three in the morning. Even though he thinks you're just being paranoid, especially with the silent sigh of defeat you hear through your phone speaker. He tries his best to reassure you that you're going to be fine at the end of the day. 

“There will probably be three, five at most. He had said last night when you called. 

Thankfully he had stayed up revising his final paper, instead of being three dimensions deep in dream land like on Sunday when you called. Still, even though he had muttered out a tiny complaint, he stayed on the line with you. Until you were calm enough to fall asleep again. 

In just three months your acquaintance has blossomed into a full on friendship. Along with your sneaking suspicion that both Taehyung and Jimin like him better. It was obvious last Friday night when Jimin had a small end of the semester get together at his apartment. Namjoon got so drunk he performed the entirety of Grease Lightning on karaoke. Including the dance break with special guest and step brother Jeon Jungkook. 

Later on in the night the older of the four cried about the final scene in the Titanic. It was a rollercoaster of emotions, but heartwarming to be able to see a different side of the Philosophy student. 

“Look who decided to join us.” You jump, placing your pen down in your notebook, closing it to hold your page. You turn around, feeling a wide smile come onto your face when you lock eyes with the other source of your happiness these last few months. 

“Hobi,” you exclaim, holding your arms out to him. He chuckles, and leans down giving you one of those awkward hugs one gives when the other person is sitting down. It only lasts a few seconds and then he is leaning his head back to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek, making you cringe. 

“Ew,” you pout, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. He chuckles, pecking your lips lightly and then taking the seat next to you. 

“Joon says you need a break from being a math wizard.” He chuckles, dragging your notebook to him. He places his arms over it keeping it hostage.

You whine crossing your arms in front of you, pouting like a child. “But what if I don't pass. I don't want to have to take the class a third time.” 

Namjoon shakes his head, sets your chamomile tea in front of you, and sits down. “I already told you, you won't. I did the math last night. Even if you get a sixty five percent, you'll still be able to pass the class with a B.” He states firmly and takes a sip from his coffee. 

You huff, sinking further into the chair. “I don't want a B, I want an A.” 

Hoseok snakes an arm over your shoulders and brings you close to his side.” “Then you will pass the class with an A honey cakes.” He kisses your temple before resting his cheek on top of your head. You take a deep breath, nodding and snuggling closer to him.

“So are you two dating now?” Namjoon leans back in his seat, crossing his arms in front of him.

Hoseok waves an arm, brushing off the question that has been surrounding the two of you these past three weeks. “You know it's not like that.” He answers before you can. He pulls his arm away and sets them both on top of your notebook. He sends you a knowing wink. 

“Yeah you out of all people should know it's not like that.” You back up Hoseok, sticking your tongue out at the other. “How's Rina by the way?” You challenge making the man next to you burst out in a fit of giggles. 

You see, most of the things Jungkook told you about Namjoon prior to your first meeting have all been lies. Or just not the whole truth.

Namjoon was a broody person. He did put his studies as one of his priorities in life. And he didn't want a relationship. 

Yet in the last few months you have gotten to know the career driven man. You've also managed to peel back some of his layers. 

He did have his moments of indignation, but he could also be very playful and funny. This side mostly comes out when Hoseok is around or when he wants you to get your mind off the things that have been stressing you out. He does have a strong work ethic, but he also knows when to take a break. 

There have even moments in your tutoring slash now study sessions when he forces you to take walks. He says it helps clear your head, but you also know it's his way to get his ideas to flow again whenever he feels stuck. 

During these walks you've managed to find out more things about him. He loves museums because he's shit at art, and knowing that there are people out there who aren't makes him appreciate the art a lot more. At least once every two months he visits the tree he and his father planted his mother’s ashes at to update her on his life. He cares so much for Jungkook and his mother even if he doesn't show it all the time. And despite not wanting a relationship he has been head over heels for the girl he's been casually hooking up with for the last two years. 

Though he won't come out and say it himself. You have witnessed the way his face settles down into something calmer. And his eyes light up whenever his phone rings and her name pops up on the screen.

He once spent thirty minutes talking about a joke she had told him one night. Spoiler alert, it wasn't a good one, but it was adorable watching him try to get it out in-between chuckles. 

You also know he shares the same negative sentiment Jungkook has about your current relationship with his best friend. But just like he claims that his relationship with Rina is complicated. So, is yours with the ray of sunshine you get to now call friend.

“She's fine.” He shrugs, clearing his throat and looking out the window. You share a look with Hoseok before letting out a fit of shared giggles. 

If someone had once told you that your strict math tutor slash friend would turn into a shy mess with just the simple mention of a name. You would've thought they were fucking with you. Even if it still surprises you a little bit. 

“You should just ask her to be your girlfriend.” Hoseok chimes in. 

Namjoon throws his head back groaning. “It wouldn't work out if I do, plus that would require for me to act like a boyfriend and I'm not ready for that kind of commitment.” He speaks with his eyes trained on the high ceiling of the cafe. 

You lean forward placing your elbows on top of the table and wrapping your arms around the hot mug. “You already do Namjoon. A switch of labels is not going to change anything. And don't you think she deserves some kind of confirmation and respect when it comes to your relationship?” You finish tilting your head to the side. 

“I do respect her though, which is why I don't want to ask her, like you just said a label won't change anything.” 

You let out a sigh, “I didn't say that you didn't respect her. I just think that from a girl's perspective she might be feeling a little bit confused with your words and actions. You say the two of you aren't anything serious but then you act like you can't live without her. If I was in her shoes I would feel very frustrated. So, maybe you don't have to make this big grand gesture or ask her to officially be your girlfriend but just clarify things between the two of you. If you aren't serious about her then so be it but if you are then tell her that.” You finish and take your first sip from your tea. 

“I agree with honey cakes, just be a little more straight forward that's all.” Hoseok shrugs before standing up. 

Namjoon rolls his eyes, and looks between the two of you. “And what about you?” He counteracts childishly. You knew it was coming. In his eyes the two of you giving him advice when you're in a similar situation is a bit hypocritical. Plus you and Hoseok are on the same page so it's di–

“That's different.” Hoseok speaks before you. “And this is about your love life not ours.” He states stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

“Whatever.” Namjoon brushes off. You sigh, aware that if you choose to continue the conversation it will end in the three of you having a petty argument. You look at Hoseok as he leans down, placing a delicate kiss on your cheek, making the man witnessing the affectionate gesture scoff in annoyance. 

If he wants to say something he doesn't voice it instead he opens his leather bound notebook to a new page. 

Hoseok ignores him and stands up straight. “Are we still on tonight?” 

You nod. “I can't stay for long though I want to catch up on sleep.” 

“Fine then just one movie it is.” He winks before turning on his heels. Leaving you behind with the grumpy man. He looks up from his journal, opening his mouth, but you raise a hand to stop him. “It's different Namjoon.” 

Namjon clicks his tongue in annoyance and shrugs. “Whatever, let's just do one more world problem before calling it a day.” 

“Fine,” you huff, sliding your notebook in front of you and opening it to a clean page. 

Just one more day and you'll be free from this torture. 

Hoseok's apartment is everything you expect from the maximest man. Just upon walking in you are hit with waves of bright colors. By the doorway there are different KAWS figurines that you can only imagine cost a fortune. Yet they greet you with their x'd out eyes as you remove your shoes. 

Then you have to pass by the Supreme beaded curtain to finally enter the living room. A bright red leather couch is settled in the middle. With wine colored pillows and a black throw blanket that you've adopted since the first night you spent in Hoseok's arms.

Abstract art lines the walls behind the television. There are more figurines lining the shelves in between books, records, and framed pictures of his friends and families. Along with a few miscellaneous items that he's told you he's obtained over the years.

His TV is huge. Takes up almost the whole wall, but your favorite to watch movies since he installed a surround system upon moving in years ago. 

You still remember the first night he invited you over. It was after spending two whole weeks texting non stop. He simply asked if you wanted to watch a movie with him and you thought why not. 

One night led to another and now another. It always starts the same. The two of you spend days teasing one another through text. Lewd texts along with pictures. You come over for a movie and then you end up underneath him. 

When it's over, he lets you use his shower while he orders takeout from the vegan restaurant a block down the road. And the two of you resume watching the movie as if neither of you were panting each other's names in pleasure. 

A simple arrangement with absolutely no strings attached.

It was what you were expecting when you came over tonight. Not that you don't mind the nights in which you do come over and nothing happens other than the deep hearted talks over a slow record playing in the background. But that wasn't happening either, because ever since you arrived at his doorstep, the overzealous man has been quiet. Biting the inside of his cheek and moving around you far enough to raise suspicion. 

It has your mind traveling back to the conversation that occurred in the afternoon. Was Hoseok having second thoughts? Or was there more to his actions than what you were picking up? 

“Hobi,” you whisper the minute he enters his living room with a bowl of popcorn stepping over your legs that were resting on his coffee table. He silently settles down next to you, on the other side of the couch with a gap wide enough to fit a person in between. 

Now you're more than positive that something is wrong. 

You groan, “I think I'll just go home then.” You mumble, pushing the throw blanket of your shoulders. 

This is enough to catch his attention. His eyes are wide behind his dark rimmed glasses and he sits up. “What why?” He tilts his head in confusion. 

A dry chuckle escapes your lips. “You obviously don't want me around, so I'll just go. I need to go to sleep early anyway.” You shrug, slipping your feet in his fuzzy slippers and swiftly start making your way to grab your stuff in his room. 

“No I–wait.” Finally, he speaks up, earning an eye roll from you that he can't see as your back is still turned. 

With haltered steps you spin on your heel to face him again, “What? You've been acting strange since I got here. So, if you don't want me around I will just go home.” 

At lightning speed he sets the bowl of popcorn on his coffee table, and stands up. He makes hasty steps towards you and when he is finally standing in front of you, he sets both of his hands on top of your shoulders. 

“Don't leave…I'm sorry.” Hoseok's eyes cast down past your face. They settle upon the graphic on your old washed out t-shirt. He takes a deep breath and looks up again. His face twists into something you can't decipher. It's a look you've never seen him wear, and it settles hard into your chest. 

He looks troubled, chewing on the inside of his cheek. His eyes dart to five different focal points. You know he's arguing with himself. When he finally looks at you in your eyes again. You can't help but shrink a little bit. 

His features have hardened, and you want to reach out to smooth over the little worry lines in the middle of his forehead. Guilt washes over you. 

For what? 

You don't know but you hope more than anything that you'll soon find out. 

“Can we talk?” He speaks up, letting his arms fall down, his knuckles brushing against your skin. 

For a second you think he's going to pull away. Retrieve into his body, but when he grabs your hands and laces his fingers with yours. The guilt in the pit of your stomach dissipates and you're left with confusion. 

When you don't answer his question, he repeats himself. This time differently, “I just think we need to talk, I've been thinking since this afternoon. I want to check up on you, and I guess us.” He clarifies, and now you're filled with a different kind of emotion. As much as you're relieved that you didn't do anything wrong per se. You are slightly annoyed that he couldn't just tell you that when you first arrived. Instead of ignoring you until you reached your breaking point. 

Frustrated, you say slowly, “Then just say that, instead of ignoring me.” 

Hoseok closes his eyes and sighs, nodding his head before speaking, “you're right I'm sorry. I just have a lot on my mind and I am not sure how to bring any of what I'm thinking about up.” 

“Hobi, just say it. We agreed on clear communication when we realized that this was going to be more than just a one night stand.” You sigh, beginning to walk in the direction of his couch, stringing him along. “Whatever is on your mind, just say it.” You push him onto his couch and take the seat next to him, your body fully facing his, and you fold your legs beneath you. 

He nods, running a hand down his face. “I don't think this is working anymore.” He whispers, eyes trained on his ceiling. 

Okay you were definitely not expecting that, but instead of voicing your surprise, you squeeze his hand. Encouraging him to continue. 

He does, “I think I'm slowly falling for you, well I don't know I'm confused about my feelings.” He whispers the end and falls quiet. 

As much as you want to run away and hide at his confession. He looks troubled and you wouldn't be a good friend if you just left him to wallow in his thoughts. No matter the pressure that has settled in your chest. Or the fact that your heart thinks you're running a marathon, making your ears feel like they're about to fall off too. 

With every passing moment you're finding that it's getting harder to breathe. You aren't dumb, the atmosphere has also changed, but it isn't because of his confession. It's because you are also a bit confused about your feelings.

You clear your throat, “W-What are you confused about?” 

He stops his staring game with the ceiling, shifting his whole body to finally face you. “Do you know why both Kook and Joon are so against us?” 

The question throws you off guard but you suppose it has to do with what he's going through. You do have an idea as to why your friends are raising a brow at your relationship. Jungkook’s warning the first day you met the barista is enough for you to get a rough idea of what they mean. But you want to hear it from him. 

Still you don't know if you can trust your voice so you shake your head. 

He continues, “I've never been in a relationship because I don't trust people to love me the way I know I can love them. So, I just sleep around, and when I get bored I break it off.” 

 “I know. They warned me about you when you immediately showed interest. And trust me I knew what I signed up for when we agreed to keep seeing each other. I don't expect anything more than what we are doing.” You tilt your head to the side.

“I know that's why I'm confused. At first that's all I expected and wanted. But then I don't know I feel so full and empty when I'm with you. I don't want you to leave when the night is over. You're the last thing I think about and the first thing I want to see. I've never felt this sure and comfortable with anyone ever, and I don't know what to do because we both know this isn't forever, your forever is with someone else, and so is mine. But for now I just want to be with you and know what it's like to fall in love and with you.” He takes a deep breath. “Even if it's just for a little bit. You know that next year I'll be leaving for that design school, and I'm sorry but nothing and no one is going to stop me. I've waited too long for this opportunity. I know I'm being selfish to ask you this, but can you please find it in your heart to let me be yours until then?” 

Hoseok finishes. And you're left to your own devices. To deal with your emotions as they spill out of you in hot tears. You've never had someone confess to you so passionately before. Actually nobody has ever bothered. And even though it's semi depressing you can't help but feel on cloud nine with all his words wrapping around you in the warmth that he radiates. 

Without thinking you kneel, and wrap your arms around his neck. “Okay let's do it.” You beam and he matches your smile. He leans in to kiss you but you place your hand over his mouth to stop him. 

Confusion plagues him like a bitter sting. You laugh, “But only if you agree that when everything is over there's no drama between us, and if I ever get married you have to design my wedding dress.” You remove your hand, and cradle his cheek, rub your thumb over his eyebrow. 

He chuckles, rolling his eyes. “You will get married.” 

“Nah, but it's okay. I've accepted my faith.” You shrug, resting your forehead against his. His hands come up your cheek, squishing them slightly.

“You will honey cakes, that's why I'm already planning your dress design in my head.” He wipes your forgotten tears, and tilts your head to the side. 

You feel your breathing get faster, as his heart shaped lips rest centimeters apart. “How are you so sure?” You whisper, swallowing thickly at the end. 

He smirks, with a glint in his eye. Like he knows something you don't, “because I know someone who is also falling for you but they’re to dumb to notice “ 

“Who?” 

“Secret,” he says before finally crashing his lips onto yours.

Hoseok’s room is equally as loud as his living room. It’s a little more diluted with simple decorations and a huge abstract painting on the wall in front of his bed. His bed takes up most of his space, adoring a black duvet with black sheets. He has three pillows and two of those you’ve taken ownership of. His brown dresser holds little trinkets of things he buys or finds in the pockets of his pants. It’s also home to a series of designer colognes. Your favorite one was definitely Terre d'Hermes. Somehow the smell always fills with comfort. 

Your favorite part of his room–other than his bed–was his desk. They say you can tell a lot about a person by just looking at their work space. 

He’s a messy artist. His sketches are always thrown around, or pinned on the corkboard hanging over his desk. He has two bookshelves filled with sketchbooks and magazines. Sometimes if you’re lucky he will leave his sketchbooks open, awarding you with a small glance of his work. He has different notebooks for different magazine cutouts. Each one labeled something like, ‘street’ or ‘formal’ or ‘one-day.’ The latter always peaks your interest but you’ve never thought to ask. He has a thousand different sketching materials, and so many colorful markers. You just know that he was that kid in class with the sixty-four crayola back. 

He's passionate about his craft. A passion that shines through everything that he does. Especially when he’s sharing that passion with you. Now, as he lays you down onto his soft mattress. He kisses his way down your neck, slowly pushing your shirt up to reveal your stomach and the few stretch marks that appeared one day in your early adolescent years. 

For years it was hard to be intimate with someone in fear that they would disgust your partner. But the one thing you learned while growing up was that most men didn’t give a shit unless they were getting it. 

Yet Hoseok, your boyfriend, now. 

He cares. 

In a good way. The first time he saw you naked he almost came in his jeans. Your curves were all in the right places. You have enough skin to grip onto, and he loves all the marks and imperfections your body has. 

He couldn’t understand why you were so beautiful in the soft glow of his bedroom lights? Why he didn’t have the words to describe how his heart was literally beating against his ribcage?  Why for the first time in his casual dating experience he feared he wouldn't be able to give you the pleasure you deserved? 

So, that first night together, he took his time. Trying to get his thoughts under control. He painted your body with featherlight kisses. Determined to leave his trace imprinted in your body for however long you two would engage with each other. 

Everytime you came over. He did just that. He took his time, choreographing a dance with your body. It was a no-brainer that he had fallen for you. Something he knew shouldn’t have happened. He had plans for himself. He had a future mapped out since he was teenage. Though, he had the sneaking suspicion that you wouldn’t stop him from achieving his goals. That you would support him through everything. He should’ve stopped his feelings for you from growing. 

He kept them quiet until his portfolio got accepted. Until he saw the brief glances Namjoon gave you when he thought you weren’t looking. Perhaps it was the jealousy that made him confess. Or that his time with you was now limited. Whatever the reason was that led him to his confession, he only hoped that you felt the same. 

You giggle, the beautiful melodic sound grounds him as he wraps a calloused hand around your right breast, circling his thumb around the pebble. 

You're his girlfriend now. 

He, your boyfriend and he will bring down the moon for you tonight if you asked him too. 

“What’s so funny?” His curious stare meets your amused one. 

You had failed to keep your giggles at bay while he made out with you on his couch. He let a few of his own out when he had had enough of kissing and grinding in his living room, and guided you into his room. 

He loved the sound, and he loved that it was only because after months of dancing this tango you were still shy underneath him. 

“Nothing, it’s just that Mickey is staring at us.” You whisper gasping when he grinds his lower half against yours. Hoseok playfully rolls his eyes, reaching and turning around the newly added picture of his family dog on his bedside table. No more prying dog or human eyes around to interrupt the two of you. 

His attention returns to you. Gaze burning with lust as he leans down, pecking your lips lightly. “Can you stay over?” He says, kneading your breast again. The teasing touches were driving you insane. But this is how you preferred it. Slow and intense, tangling your body with his, until the two of you became one. 

“I’ll make an exception if you promise to drive me to my class tomorrow with a free coffee.” You smile, pushing your chest into his hand. 

He shook his head, reaching down to your lips. “Hustler.” He mumbles, capturing your mouth in a slow sensual kiss. “You got yourself a deal baby girl.” 

Your body shudders at the nickname. He only used it when it was just the two of you. He knew the effect it had on you. “Can I take your shirt off now?” He smirks. 

You let out a pleasurable sigh, nodding your head, before verbalizing a soft, “yes.” 

He pulls away, sitting back on his heels, peeling his shirt off before helping you with yours. He discards the two of them somewhere behind him. He pulls you towards him again, resting his forehead against yours. A bright smile adorning his perfect face. 

It makes your stomach crumble, knowing that from this moment on.

Hoseok would always be the one who got away. 

Your big “what if.” 

Your biggest treasure. Your safe place. Your blueprint for a future with someone else. The love story that was made to end. But one that burned so bright that would have you telling your future daughter to never be afraid of love. 

“Can we go slow today?” You run your hands down his torso, playing with the belt buckle of his expensive belt. 

“I’ll go at whatever pace you want me to go, baby girl.” He reassures,  his fingers play with the bra strap that had fallen down your shoulder. 

You tilt your head, looking at him with soft eyes. And he swears he feels himself melt. 

The next few minutes were a mess of soft kisses and clothes being discarded. Each article of clothing, landing with a soft ‘thud’ against his bedroom floor. You’re on cloud nine, his lips kiss down your neck, your collarbone. His hands part your thighs, baring your cunt to him. He sits back, mouth watering at how wet you are. He couldn’t wait for a taste. 

He could never wait. And he never did. 

He kisses your mound before wrapping his lips around your clit. He savors the sigh that escapes your mouth. He smirks when he immediately feels you grip his hair, pushing him further. Just like he couldn’t resist, you also couldn’t.

He sucked, distracting you from his finger circling around your entrance making you gasp in surprise when you feel him insert one. Slowly thrusting it as he licked you like a man who has been starved for weeks. 

“Hobi,” You sigh, pushing his head further. He fingers you faster until he feels you clench around him, and he stops, making you whine. 

“Please,” you plead. He chuckles against you, inserting another finger. This time he doesn’t give you time to adjust. You feel him thrust into you with no hesitation. His mouth sucking on your clit, swirling his tongue around it playing with the nub. 

You were withering, moaning his name, and anything your mind could conjure up in this moment. 

Overwhelmed with blissful pleasure, you grip his bed sheets, bucking your hips into his face. He groans, knowing you were on edge from how tight your grip on his head was now. And he did the one thing he knew would drive you insane. He slowed down, until he came to a complete stop. 

“Hoseok,” you groan, slamming your hand onto his comforter. He chuckles, lifting his head. Your body was flushed, your lips swollen, your hair splayed out around you. He loves bringing you to this moment. 

“You said you wanted slow.” He grins, taking his fingers out of your pussy. Loving the way it clenched over nothing now. Almost as if it was begging to be played with again. 

You roll your eyes, pouting. “Not this slow. I want to come.” You say, sitting up on your elbows. 

“Oh baby you will.” He winks, licking his fingers clean. He leans over, pecking your lips quickly. “You will come as many times as you want. But I want the first one to be around my cock tonight.” 

You gasp at his words. You knew his mouth was lethal but sometimes it still surprises you. The lust lacing with his soft timbre made you weak in the knees. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. 

The word ‘slow’ is forgotten from either of your vocabularies, while the two of you kiss hungrily. Sucking on tongues, teeth clashing, hands touching and clutching onto anything and everything. 

Hoseok lays you down on your side, climbing in behind you. His teeth nips at your bottom lip and he wrapped your leg around his hips. He kisses down your neck, while you help guide his cock to your entrance. He locks his eyes with yours as he slowly pushes himself in. His arms wrap around your torso, and he pushes you closer to his chest. 

Both of your heartbeats are in sync. Racing against the clock, basking in pleasure that you never want it to end. 

“Move please.” You say, lifting your face to kiss him. 

He begins to move his hips, making you gasp into each other's mouths. It’s a sloppy pace from the start but you don't care. You want more, so you met his thrusts halfway. One of his hands palms at your breast. He alternates between swallowing your moans and leaving his mark on anything he can get his lips on. 

“B-Baby.” He moans, resting his forehead on yours. “I’m close, are you?” He thrusts, letting out a low moan when he feels you clench around him.

He didn’t give you a minute to answer, before he was lifting your leg higher around his waist, allowing himself to reach the deepest part of you. “Touch yourself baby.” 

You moan his name, letting go of his hand, your finger meeting your clit, rubbing it in circles. Trying to keep up with his unrelenting pace. And soon you feel him still behind you, eyes shutting in pleasure as he spills himself inside of you. His orgasm triggers the coil in the pit of your stomach as you feel your release wash over you in a tidal wave, making you push his cock and cum out of you. His fingers frantically come down to meet yours as he helps you ride out your wave. He whispers praises against your skin while you come down.

Hoseok kisses your lips slowly, chuckling before whispering words that you will forever hold near and dear to your heart. 

“I love you.” He pushes your hair away from your face. “I love you so much to know that one day I’ll have to let you go.”

You giggle, turning in his arms, nuzzling your head into his neck. “I love you.” 

You feel him laugh, twinkling his fingers down your spine, “Let’s get matching tattoos.” 

You look up at him, raising a brow before shaking your head. “You just made me squirt, told me you loved me, and now you want to get matching tattoos?” 

“What better way to commemorate the best ego boost.” He shrugs. 

“You’re insane.” You untangle yourself from his embrace. You stand up, putting on his shirt. 

“I didn’t hear a no.” He says smugly, putting his arms underneath his head. 

“Because you’re an insane idiot who makes me agree to things like these.” You smile, before walking out of his room. 

“Great, I’ll make an appointment.” He shouts after you, “I love you.” He adds after a moment. 

You enter his kitchen, and turn on the lights. You can feel your smile take up your entire face. For a moment you realize that for the first time in a long time you felt happy. 

So yeah, maybe, things were finally looking up. 

“You’re late.”

Namjoon says after taking a slow sip from his coffee. He looks at you from over the rim of his glasses. 

You roll your eyes, setting your bag down on the empty chair. “It's raining, and I forgot my umbrella. I had to wait for the rain to stop.”

“You could’ve texted to let me know.” He shrugs, setting his cup down on the coaster and flipping the page of his book. 

You sigh, before (gently) throwing your phone onto the table. “It’s dead. And before you ask, no I didn’t bring a charger. No, Jungkook wasn’t in class today so he couldn’t give me a charger, an umbrella, or a ride. Jimin is sick. And Taehyung doesn’t even go to our school. He's probably getting high with his new fling, so I wouldn’t have been able to ask him either.” You say, listing all the solutions he would’ve thought about in seconds. 

“Mhm,” he nods, closing his book. “And your boyfriend?”

Annoyed, you let out a whine, crossing your arms in front of you. “I don’t know, let me go downstairs and ask him. I’m sure he can stop managing a business to give me an umbrella.” 

Namjoon leans his elbows against the table. “Trouble in paradise?” He tilts his head, clasping his hands on top of his book. 

You shake your head, pulling out your chair and slumping down in it. “Hobi and I are fine. It’s not like he’s leaving in two months or anything.” You throw your hands up in exasperation. 

It’s month seven into your shining relationship with Hoseok, and you should’ve known that things would start to hit the fan sooner rather than Later. Your boyfriend was in the middle of the most tumultuous change of his life. Things were moving quickly and his time dedicated to you was bumped down his monstrous daily to-do list. 

Yet you couldn’t do or say anything because isn’t this what you signed up for? 

“Ah, so there is trouble.” Namjoon chuckles before opening his book again, setting his fancy leather bookmark aside. “This is exactly why I don’t do relationships, they just attract problems.” He adds, giving you a pointed look. 

You roll your eyes, “Shut up asshole, not all of us can be like you and Rina.” 

“Sure you can, it's simple just don't attach any strings to it.” He shrugs, underlining a sentence in his book. 

“Two people who have been only exclusively seeing each other for years literally the definition of strings attached. You can keep denying it all you want but she’s your girlfriend. You guys do all the couple-y stuff.” You grumble, leaning back in your chair, looking out of the window. The gloomy weather adds to your shitty mood. 

“She’s not, we are not dating, and I don’t need to talk about this with you again. Rina and I are on the same page.” He finishes, taking a long sip from his coffee.

“Well, how would you feel if Rina was spending time with another guy, completely ignoring your presence when you walk into her coffee shop all wet and angry because your professor basically told you your topic for your essay was shit.”

Namjoon smirks, leaning back in his chair. “Sounds like you’re jealous of Yuri.” 

“So what if I am?” You bite, “I understand that he’s training her to take over his position, but all he talks about is her and what he needs to teach her when we’re together. And whenever I come in they’re always laughing at something behind the coffee machine. And I know she’s nice and all but I would like his attention too.” You scoff. 

Namjoon hums, tapping his index finger against the table. “Do you trust him?” 

The question doesn’t catch you off guard, the obvious answer is on the tip of your tongue. But with how things have been going lately. You can’t help but hesitate. 

“I don’t know anymore.” You whisper looking down at your hands, turning the ring on your middle finger. “I know I should, and I do…I think I do. It’s just things have been so shit lately and I feel like a burden to him because of everything he has to do.” 

Namjoon lightly kicks your foot under the table, making you raise your head to meet his gaze. “I don’t know if I am being of much help, but he loves you. I know that whatever is happening he’s not doing it intentionally. Just talk to him about it.” 

If only it were that easy. 

“I’d love to but he never has time.” 

“Why not talk to him now then.” He says reaching into his bag to take out his cigarettes and lighter. 

“He’s busy downstairs with Yu–” 

“No, I’m not busy now.” 

You jump at the sound of your boyfriend's voice. You turn your head to look at him. A small tray with a mug of probably chamomile tea on top of it. His hair is shorter than the last time you saw him two days ago. He got a haircut and didn’t even tell you about it. That’s how low you have made it on his list. He can’t even send you a stupid picture of his new haircut. He can’t even send you a ‘goodmorning’ or ‘goodnight’ text. He also probably forgot that you were nervous for the meeting with your professor about your essay topic.

All these realizations make you want to roll into a ball and cry. You knew your time with Hoseok was limited. You just didn’t expect for the end to be so torturous. 

“That’s what I told her.” Namjoon speaks, narrowing his eyes at you for a second before turning his attention to his best friend. “She’s jealous of Yuri, because you’ve been spending too much time with her.” He shrugs, walking quickly to the stairs before you can bury him ten feet underground. 

You hear Hoseok let out a heavy sigh, and take the seat next to you. “Honeycakes,” he starts.

“Nice haircut.” You interrupt, slumping into your chair more. It earns another heavy sigh from the man sitting next to you. 

“Is Yuri the reason why you’ve been so upset lately?” He says placing a hand on top of your knee underneath the table. 

You let out a dry laugh before shaking your head. “No, it’s not her. It’s how you’ve been acting lately, it’s the time you’ve been spending with her. It's never having time for me anymore. It’s forgetting our date last week. It’s not even telling me that you got a haircut.” You finish, closing your fists to keep yourself from crying. 

Hoseok gives your thigh a squeeze before leaning back in his chair. “You know how things have been lately. I’m trying so hard to do everything I need to do. I don’t mean to be so dismissive but I can’t juggle everything at the same time.” 

You flick off a piece of lint from your jeans. “It’s nice to know that I’m just something you juggle around.” 

“That’s not what I meant. You knew what would happen when I started my application process. You said you understood.” 

“I did, or I thought I did Hoseok. I didn’t think I would become so secondary to you.” You sniffle. “I love that you’re chasing your dreams, but this is me trying to support you. I’m trying to understand how you’re feeling. But you stop me. You have shut me out and now I’m just something you remember sometimes.” You close your eyes, feeling the tears fall down your cheeks. 

The last thing you wanted was to be crying like this in public. 

“I-I want you to tell me when you’re having a hard time like you used to. I want you to feel like you can relax around me when we’re together. But every time we are together, we either argue, you don’t talk, or you talk about work, deadlines, or how you can’t wait to move. How do you think that makes me feel Hoseok?” 

Hoseok sighs, and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I’m sorry.” He kisses your temple. “I wish you would’ve told me earlier before it got to this point.” He whispers, rubbing your back, while you lean your head onto his shoulder. 

“But Hobi like you said, this is what I signed up for. This is what I agreed to.”  You add bitterly. 

“Yes Honeycakes, but you’re still my girlfriend. And I know that I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately, but I do care about you and I do love you.” He lifts your head from his shoulder. He gently grabs hold of your face, making you look at him. “Just like how you want me to talk to you when something is bothering me, I also want you to talk to me.” 

You close your head sighing, “You’re right, I’m sorry that I keep making things difficult.” 

He shakes his head. “You don’t. I’m the one that can’t seem to keep my girlfriend from doubting me. I’m the one who hasn’t told her how much I yearn to be in her presence at every waking moment.” He says, his thumbs wiping away your tears. “I love you, and I think that’s why I’ve been so avoidant lately. I know that our days are numbered and I would rather ignore the fact that I’m moving away soon than cherish the moments I get to spend with my family, my friends and you.” 

You nod, holding out your pinky out to him. “I promise to keep trying my best.” 

He hooks his pinky with yours bringing your laced fingers up to his lips. “I promise to keep trying my best too.” 

“I love you,” You whisper, letting go of his finger and wrapping your arms around his waist. 

His low laugh makes his chest vibrate against your head, “I love you.” He adds, rubbing soothing circles over your back. “Now, can you please drink your tea before you get a cold. I texted you earlier asking if you needed an umbrella but you didn’t answer. And now look at you coming in here all pouty and wet.”  

You raise your head to look at him, opening your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the forgotten voice of your friend. “Her phone’s dead.” Namjoon throws his lighter onto the wooden table. 

Hoseok tsks shaking his head, reaching over to push the tray of your lukewarm tea closer to you. “I should’ve known. I knew you didn’t charge it last night, just like I knew that you left your umbrella at my place.” He pinches your cheek. “How did your meeting go?” 

“He basically said that I need to restart my essay topic over again.”

Hoseok laughs, bopping your nose with his own. “Well did he say those exact words?” 

“No but it was basically implied.”  You emphasize. 

“Fine, I’ll talk to your study partner if my baby isn’t being told that she’s a genius all the time, then what am I paying him for.” He jokes, which earns a glare from said study partner. 

“You’re not paying me, idiot.” Namjoon rolls his eyes, grabbing his brown leather messenger back and stuffing his cigarettes into the front pocket. 

He’s grateful that he came back to smiles and not tears. The stoicness of his actions makes the two of you laugh hard. Your laugh resonates longer in his mind. It always does. No matter how much he tries to deny it. You always resonate longer in his mind. But he pushes that fleeting thought aside. 

Namjoon is happy. 

His friends are happy. 

Things in his life were finally looking up. 

“I have to go, but don’t be late next time and charge your phone.” He says hoisting his bag onto his shoulders. 

You nod, saluting in his direction, before bursting out into a fit of giggles as Hoseok tickles your side. 

Namjoon doesn’t stay for longer than he needs to. He’s already running late to meet Rina, but he can’t hide the smile taking up his space.

He can’t help but feel proud that things were finally looking up for you too. 

a/n: I hope you have enjoyed it. I will try not to be so MIA and upload a little more frequently rather than every 6 months haha. But my life has been pretty busy lately. In the past few months. I have moved to a different part of Seoul and I got a new job. I basically just hang out with my friends when I have free time haha. I also do dance class 3 times a week, and I started personal training last week. But I will try to manage my time better because I do miss writing and this story!

[frickingnerd]

nights like this i love you the most

pairing: hitoshi shinsou x gn!reader

summary: shinsou and you both can't sleep, so you sneak into his dorm room and the two of you watch a movie together!

tags: heavily implied romance/romantic feelings, wholesome fluff, no pronouns used, mentions of aizawa, reader & shinsou attend UA together, best friends to lovers

“i can't believe you're still awake at this hour! go to sleep, silly!”

“i wasn't aware you were actually asleep while texting me! glad to know you can multitask!”

“haha… very funny! i know i should be asleep too, but i can't get any rest! what's your excuse?”

“same as yours!”

shinsou stared at your message, awaiting an answer for you for the last five minutes now. it seemed you had drifted to sleep already, despite just saying you were unable to fall asleep.

shinsou sighed and turned around on his bed, continuing to hold his phone near his face, as he still had hope you'd send a message back. despite all the bickering between the two of you, he genuinely enjoyed talking to you. and being able to text all night with you was always the light of his day – or rather night.

just as shinsou was ready to put away his phone and attempt to get some sleep himself, there was a knock on the door of his dorm room. at first, he thought he was hallucinating, but when he heard a second knock on the door, this time a bit louder, he quickly jumped up and hurried to the door. he had a sneaking suspicion that only one person was crazy enough to still be up at this hour of the night...

“i almost thought you had fallen asleep in the time it took me to get here~!”

shinsou was greeted by your playful grin, before you quickly slipped past him into his room, not waiting for an invitation.

“i thought you had fallen asleep when you stopped responding!” shinsou replied, before getting to the important things. “what are you even doing here at this time? if aizawa finds out you snuck out of your room, he's going to be so mad…”

“pff!” with a confident smile and the wave of a hand, you brushed off shinsou's worries. “he won't find out. besides, you're his favorite student! he won't be too harsh on you!”

“i won't be his favorite student anymore, if he finds out you're sneaking into my room at night!”

despite shinsou's complaining, he couldn't help but smile. this was certainly a first, being paid a nightly visit by you. and while he was nervous you two would get caught, he couldn't be happier to have you near him.

“so then… what are we going to do now? i suppose you didn't come all the way just to continue our usual banter~!” shinsou said with a smile.

“well…” you sat down on his bed, pulling some snacks out of your pockets, before grinning at your best friend. “i was thinking we could watch a movie! i already brought the snacks and everything…”

shinsou looked at you for a moment, softly smiling and shaking his head. you really were unbelievable! no one but you would be crazy enough to watch movies at this time of night. but you were different. and he loved that about you!

“you're shaking your head… is that a no?”

shinsou had been so lost in thought, that he forgot how this might come over.

“no–! i mean, no, this isn't a no! this is a yes!”

he stumbled over his own words, trying to make sense of what he was saying. which was quite the hard task when it was already so late.

“what i mean is… i want to watch a movie with you!”

you grinned happily at that response, patting onto the empty spot next to you on his bed. shinsou didn't hesitate and sat down next to you, only for you to inch a bit closer to him, before grabbing the remote and clicking through the potential move options, while shinsou opened a bag of snacks.

“how about this movie?” you asked, as shinsou leaned back against the wall, quietly watching you with a soft smile on his lips, as you leaned forward and read through the movie titles.

“sure, that one sounds good!” shinsou replied, without his eyes ever leaving you.

[ohmyamor]

ateez as college bfs during finals

it's my finals week and head hurty but crazy form good hnngjdnjgnjdf

hongjoong

will help you study but only if you bribe him a little

it's not that he wants to see you fail

he definitely does not want that

but at the same time

you would most likely do just fine studying on your own

he has a sneaking suspicion you just want to bother him

it's not until you bring out the "I'll do whatever you want for the next two weeks" that he's quick to agree

would he use this promise to his advantage? absolutely

hongjoong would help you study but then once you pass (you'd definitely pass with his help), he'd be quick to make you buy him food or pass him the blanket that is literal inches away from him

if you want to pass, you could also guilt trip him into helping you study by saying you'll just go to your TA

who's a man..

your same age...

hongjoong is real quick to whip out the flash cards after that

unless you give him a hard time, then he'll personally take you to the TA's room himself

7/10- would help you study but is all the work he would make you do after worth it?

debatable

seonghwa

absolute king

would drop everything to help you in the blink of an eye

he's got the studying playlists on youtube

anything you want to listen to, he's got it

lofi? yup. asmr? check. dark academia aesthetic? absolutely

color coded notes, flashcards, practice quizzes up and running

can seem a bit overwhelming at first but seonghwa gives me the vibes that he would just know you so well

and therefore he would know what type of studying or work environment you thrive in

and you're his baby, he wants to see you succeed :((

if you ever get frustrated or overwhelmed, seonghwa would 100% have your favorite drink and snack ready

some coffee to stay awake? whatever u need, some tea to relax? bet, he's got the honey and everything

your number 1 hype man frfr

10/10 need him in my life

yunho

honestly, also really good to have around during finals

strikes me as the type of bf to kind of sit with you and also silently work alongside you so you don't feel lonely

does that thing when you're writing a paper or smth and you look up to think of the word you want to use and the two of you make eye contact and he'll send you a wink and a big smile

little motivations yaknow

would also definitely use the pomodoro method

has a timer on his phone for every 45 minutes and when the time is up he'll gently shut your computer and grab your hands and just chat

would be the best person to bounce ideas of off

"yuyu, should I say this or this?"

and he would give genuine feedback

if you need help studying for an exam, yunho might not know all the answers but you can bet he would be right there with you watching videos of people working out the problems

gives you little high fives when you both get it

9/10 might get occasionally distracted by his beautiful blinding smiles but honestly a pretty solid study partner

yeosang

mans is just there to vibe and honestly same

i dont wanna say he has absolutely no clue what's going on

because he does listen to you and he does pay attention when you talk about your classes

but at the same time, he doesn't really give me the vibes he would be as great at studying as some of the others

more there for moral and emotional support than anything

might feel bad he can't be of more help so he tries his best to listen to your lectures if you're at home, but man, it sounds like a different language somebody save him

would definitely make sure you're eating and resting well though

"sweetheart I think it's time to take a break"

"yeosang I just need to finish a few more problems :("

"you can do it after you eat something, it'll be easier to finish with a clear head and a full tummy"

crying screaming throwing up

would otherwise leave you to your devices tbh

doesn't want to distract you but also doesn't want you to be completely alone in case you forget to take care of yourself

8/10 man is doing his absolute best and we love him for it

san

honestly this could go one of two ways

he could either be the most serious, hella studious mf you've ever met

or he could be the most unserious, menacing bitch you've ever met

it all depends on his mood

serious san is in the mf ZONE

he's got the glasses on, he has his notes out, comfy sweater and gray sweats ON

ready to give you a mom look every time you get distracted

at one point you'd probably try to play footsies with him and he just kinda stares at you over the top of his glasses with one eyebrow raised and you just slowly return your gaze to your work

that being said

glasses ON, sweats ON, absolute fucking menace

teasing you fs

maybe not even like in a sexual manner, just tickling you and cracking stupid jokes because he wants your attention

WILL kiss your neck and tell you "you're so smart baby, you're going to pass no matter what"

your will power needs to be better than the lords because LORD

what san wants, san gets that's all imma say

5/10 you don't know what you're gonna get and it's scary

mingi

im tired of the mingi is dumb allegations

mans is smart as hell, not only in math but also the amount of lyrics and songs he helps to produce??

studious mingi is one hell of a study partner

it might be a little bit of a learning curve at first, especially if you're the type of person to want to chat or bounce your ideas off of someone while you're working

mingi gives me the vibes that he would be dead serious and focused while working

so it might be a little intimidating at first

you look up to ask a question and he's sitting there, eyebrows furrowed and fingers flying across the keyboard

and you're like damn i don't want to disturb him so you swallow your question and move your eyes back to your work

but mingi is also very observant, so he definitely notices that

"what's up baby?"

"mmmm nothing" you mumble, trying to figure out this particular problem

he'll shut his laptop off and scoot closer to you

wordlessly helps you figure out whatever it is you're working on before giving you a small kiss to your forehead and moving on

8/10 he can be the stem major to my humanities major

wooyoung

let's be fr, not the best study partner you could ask for

love wooyoung with all my heart but mans gets distracted easy as hell

has probably tried the pomodoro method but it just doesn't work for him

sitting for longer periods of times just makes him antsy yk

i get the feeling he'd be the type of person to get one of those moving desks that goes up and down and then puts a treadmill or smth under it because he needs to be moving or else he'll get very distracted

do NOT take this man to a cafe to work, he will do everything but study

especially with the people watching

"babe look at that guy over there, his shoelace is untied"

"that girl's shirt tag is sticking out, should I say something"

"the barista spilled that woman's drink"

if you're okay with background noise, it probably wouldn't be too bad....

until he starts wanting attention and now he's playing footsies with YOU

"woo, babe, I really need to finish this, it's due tomorrow"

"so you don't love me is what you're saying"

and now two hours have passed and you only have half of an assignment done

will buy you food and/or coffee to make up for it

"sorry for distracting you, you don't need a degree, your ass is great"

3/10

jongho

scary

scary studying man

has everything organized to a T, do NOT touch his notes unless you're okay with dealing with the 3 days of silent treatment afterwards

im jk

maybe...

no but fr, jongho takes studying seriously

if you ask him for help, he would probably be the best bet besides seonghwa or yunho

but this shit is like boot camp, okay? so be prepared

no fooling around on jongho's watch

you want to pass, guess what baby, you're gonna PASS

does that thing where if you're not getting something, he might not explain it to you, just re-asks the question louder

"what's 3 + 4?"

"6"

*sighs* "WHAT'S 3 + 4?!"

or might just stare at you blankly when you try to joke around

mans acts like he's training future CIA members or something

once you do finish studying he's back to regularly scheduled bear bf but studying??

only for the strongest soldiers

6/10

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[yorshie]

Burnt Out

Bayverse Leo x Fem reader - part 2

Part 1 Part 3

summary: SFW, After confessing your feelings for the Leader in Blue, he makes a decision that challenges your relationship with all four turtles. (warnings for relationship based arguments, yelling, and an altercation with some drunken men) set in 2023 so turtles are 24-25

I don't like one sided fights, so be prepared for reader not being passive. Also I have not proofed read so wording might get moved just a bit.

tag list: @jackalope-in-a-storm @tmnt-tychou @nessarolla-in-constant-flux

Mikey whistled awkwardly into your ear the whole way to the lair. At one point, you turned your head, about to ask what was wrong, when you caught sight of Leo’s face over Mikey’s shoulder. 

His eyes were trained on your hands curled around the straps on the smallest turtle’s backpack.

You glared at him. He glared back.

By the time you were set back on your feet in the lair, your slight headache had fledged fully into a dull pounding that nicked the front of your skull. The ache was bad enough that you immediately turned to find Donnie, decidedly ignoring the others as they filtered into the cavernous space around you.

“Don? Can I get some Tylenol or something?” 

He gave you his attention, hands cool as he tilted your head back and looked at your eyes. He hummed, and nodded. “Yea, some Tylenol would probably help. Let’s go get your scrapes cleaned too, while we’re at it.” 

You followed him to his corner of the Lair, and almost immediately a hissed argument started in the main room. You raised a brow at the tallest turtle, surprised, but he only grimaced, closed the door to block the sound before dropping into a low stool and nudging you towards his chair.

“Just ignore it, it’s been going on for a couple days now.” That was more worrying than the actual argument, even though you couldn’t tell whose voices were overlapping each other. The turtles never let anything fester, there was no way for anything to fester, with how much they were in each others’ pockets.

“Why are they fighting?” You asked, watching as Donnie lined up the hydrogen peroxide and the cotton balls before leaning to the far side for a pack of waterproof bandaids.

“Hm… well….” He returned to sitting straight, handing you a little bottle that clattered as he passed it over. “I don’t- listen to most of it. I just tune it out as soon as I figure out it’s happening.” He looked down at your hands, avoiding eye contact, and you realized he was lying.

You took the Tylenol dry, swallowing and wincing before handing the bottle back. You let him doctor your hands, rub his thumb across the mark on your cheek, before you caught his grip in your own and asked once more. “Donnie, why were both Raph and Leo in the Ha’shi?”

He winced, but answered when you squeezed his fingers. “They got caught fighting. Most of the time they’ve kept it out on patrols, but this time Dad heard.”

“Great.” You ran your hands through your hair. “And you’ve got no clue what it’s about?” You had a sneaking suspicion, but you wanted to be wrong.

“Hm… yea.” He looked away again, gave you a sheepish smile when you let out a low noise of disbelief. “Listen, you should- you should talk to Leo.”

“I did talk to him.” You argued, the ground swooping below your feet at the gentle command in Donnie’s tone. “I talked, and he talked, and now… there’s nothing to talk about.”

Donnie stuck the tip of his tongue out, the move reading anxious as he pushed the issue. “Yea. Maybe try again?”

You had wanted to avoid this. You had thought, perhaps a bit foolishly, that they would all feel too awkward over the whole thing to say anything, especially if you stayed away long enough to be able to act as if it hadn’t happened. Or that maybe the blue banded turtle would have ordered them not to stick their snouts into the whole clusterfuck.

No such luck, apparently.

You hung your head, sighing roughly in annoyance. “Dee, I can’t. He was very, very clear on all the reasons why… why my interest was a bad idea. It’s not like I went and did a great job hiding it.” You said the last part roughly, amused and self-deprecating all in one, staring at the undone zippered pocket on Donnie’s leg to avoid his too golden eyes.

“No, no you didn’t.” Donnie agreed, soft and full of remorse as he stood. He turned to clean up so you could scrub your eyes in peace. When he turned back around, he faltered, swayed side to side in indecision before opening his arms up for a hug.

You stood to make it less awkward, met him in the middle and wrapped your arms around him as far as you could.  “I’m sorry Donnie. I went and ruined things, didn’t I?”

“No, no you didn’t.” He parroted again, tightening his arms around you. “Just… don’t go avoiding us, kay?”

You hummed in agreement, scrubbing your face against him in affection. “Never gonna do that, Dee.”

“Good.” He released you, quickly pushing his glasses up to rub at his eyes. “In that case, I really should probably start cleaning up the garage.” He glanced at you. “Leo and Raph are probably finishing up their Ha’shi time, but Mikey’s in the living room if you want to go hang out with him? The garage is a little too dangerous right now.”

“I heard it looks like a war zone in there?” You asked cheekily, taking his cues to return to normal, sticking your hands in your pockets and following him out of the Lab.

“My expertise cataloging may have gotten a little away from me.” He admitted, amused, and ruffled your hair in parting when you both reached the mouth of the tunnel that led to the garage.

“Wish me luck.” You quipped after his retreating shell, not really expecting an answer, but he held up a hand with crossed fingers before he disappeared around the bend.

Once you were alone, your shoulders caved, swinging down and forwards. There was a hitch in your left that no doubt would turn into something nasty the longer you went without icing it. 

All you’d have to do is ask Mikey, and he’d fix you up with an ice pack. The thought had you sighing, feet turning automatically for the main room and the tv area, the most likely space to find the smallest turtle brother.

You rubbed your shoulder absentmindedly as you went, cupping the roll of muscle and rubbing back and forth with your fingers. The sound of your blouse  shifting across your skin brought you up short, and with a whine you realized you’d forgotten about your coat.

“Great. Just…” You turned again, mind not really caught up on where you were going, annoyance bubbling up, when you crossed the closed doors of the dojo and voices inside caught your attention.

“-look like you ate a whole bag of atomic lemons.”

You stopped, head swinging around at the sound of Raph’s low rumble, and the thought that he’d happily help you find your coat had you reaching for the divider’s edge before the next voice had you pulling back sharply.

“I don’t recall ever asking for your opinion.” 

Leo, and where Raph sounded cajoling, the blue banded turtle sounded pissed. In fact, you’d never heard him in that low of an octave, that shade of done with whoever was trying to speak with him. 

Raph started in again, words precise and slow, and the hair on the back of your neck stood up straight at the obvious way he was picking a fight. “I mean, most expect me to be the one that growls and loses his temper, sounding more like a beast, but I gotta hand it to ya, brother. You sure know how to-”

“Cut the shit and say your piece, Raphael.” Leo interjected, drawing out the syllables of his brother’s name, and you didn’t have to see into the room to hear how close their voices were to each other, how up in each others’ faces they must be.

Silence for a beat, then Raph spoke up, that careful cajole peeling back to show the rough anger underneath. “You don’t understand how lucky you are, Fearless. We’ve all been dreamin of someone that would put up with our ugly mugs, and you go and-”

“Someone? Or her?” Your eyes bugged at the insinuation leveled in the growl, and fought the instinct to scurry to the side, knowing they’d hear.

The was a long silence that you drowned in, heart beating too fast, too loud, certain a fist would fly -

before Raph huffed, voice so cutting you had to concentrate to hear the amusement underneath. “You think I’m after your girl, Leo?” He let out a vicious laugh that sounded anything but humorous. “You better clean up then, cuz she ain’t really looking like your girl from where I’m standin’.”

You were done. You didn’t need to hear whatever Leo said in response. You turned on your heel and promptly walked away, coat forgotten, shoulder no longer aching, mind a one thought tract to find Mikey and bully him into taking you home.

Goddamn turtles and their goddamn snouts sticking into things that shouldn’t be poked.

You found Mikey exactly where you thought he would be, parked in front of the tv with what no doubt was the game your previous call had pulled him away from. When he heard your footsteps, he turned, easy grin disappearing into wide eyes and a silent question, lips pursed at whatever emotion was on your face.

“Hey, Mike, I need-” You pulled up short, spying your coat on the couch next to him. “What- how…?”

“Raph grabbed it when he went looking for your phone.” Mikey answered, pawing at your coat to hold the mentioned device out towards you, big blue eyes glued on the way your face crumpled, confused on why his words would pull that reaction. “Babes?”

It should be so easy. Take me home. Mikey, take me home. He would, especially with how you couldn’t see him for the tears swallowing up your vision. You heard him toss the controller aside, nothing more than a green and orange blur that took up your vision as he clambered to his feet. You didn’t startle when his warm hands clasped your elbows.

“Hey, hey, you’re ok. Babes, don’t cry. Please, don’t cry.” You were scaring him, you knew, and the knowledge was enough for you to rub your eyes roughly, trying to shove everything back in the tightly padlocked little box you’d crushed under heel for a month. A long month of silence…

There was a scuff behind you, a foot sliding across the ground, and it had your shoulders tightening up, the forgotten ache returning with a vengeance along with the reminder that the Lair was the last place you should have a breakdown in.

A hand appeared in the corner of your eye, a towel bundled up in their grip. You didn’t need to follow the arm up to know who it belonged to- the blue toned fabric and vambrace gave him away.

It was rude to leave the proffered towel hanging there. It was rude and it was childish-

You took it from him with a mumbled thanks, certain your voice could cut glass with how sharp the word came out, and you winced reflexively as Leo shifted next to you.

You smoothed out the wrinkled terry cloth, raised your arm up to press the coolness against your shoulder. Your breath sawed out as the cold started to numb the inflamed area.

“Would you like to go lay down?” Leo murmured, and you almost missed the question, too surprised at how soft his voice had gone, not quite a whisper, but definitely closer to how he talked to you before the whole debacle.

It had your face raising up, curiously meeting his gaze despite the ache in your chest the realization caused.

He took you in, head dipping to the side and closer into your space. “C’mon, you can rest for a bit- Raph’s gone to get some pizza.”

You continued to stare at him, eyes tracking between his eyes as if he might explain the complete 180. “Where…” You trailed off, eyes flitting down to his shoulders, his arms, realizing you hadn’t been this close to him for a while. You swallowed, before rising back up to meet him head on once more. “Where am I suppose to rest?”

It was a valid question. Mikey shifted in front of you, and belatedly you realized you had forgotten his presence, caught up in the blue you hadn’t looked at for longer than a few seconds in quite a while.

It’s pathetic. You thought in a flash. A month of ignoring me and all mr. soft eyes has to do is drop one line.

But in the past you’d always rested in the main room, hunkered under some blankets on the couch and giggled while they pulled antics around you. He wasn’t suggesting kicking Mikey out of the shared space, and the couch was right there, so clearly he didn’t mean-

“You can lay down in my room.” Came his answer, eyes slowly moving over you in a gentle perusal that you knew meant he was assessing your mood. 

The words settled in you like stones, scraping down your ears as they went, and you went eerily still. Silence followed, and you almost startled to hear the saw of your breath escaping. 

Mikey shifted again, not quite leaving your space.

Your eyes narrowed, lips compressed, but you dropped your gaze in favor of palming the towel and muttering your answer to your feet. “Thanks, but no thanks, think I’ll chill with Mike til Raph gets back.”

Leo sighed through closed lips, and the sound had your hackles raising.

“You’re exhausted, and you’re hurt. Just come lay-” His hand reached out, nudged you gently. 

In his defense, you didn’t realize you’d react the way you did to the slight touch either, but you all but jerked away from him, taking two steps to the side before swinging around to glare back. “I said no, Leo!” -

Or at least, that’s what you meant to say, but somewhere between your brain and your mouth, your throat changed the words into something else, something meaner.

“You told me no, Leo! You don’t get to tug me around like… like this!” 

Leo blinked once, long and slow like he was processing, and you couldn’t care less where Mikey’d gone, eyes locked on your target as you waited for the return volley.

Eventually, his head tilted, and you saw the exact moment he chose the high road, and it made you see red.

“You’ve been through a lot tonight, It’s not me you want to pick a fight with.” He tried to soothe, taking a step closer, swaying towards you. “We can talk after you rest, but I really think you should-”

“Listen?” The word was out before you could catch it, and Leo drew up short like a puppet on strings, his head rearing back. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Mikey slinking backwards, away, but you barreled onwards. “Just sit and listen as you tell me what to do? What’s good for me?” You snorted, so loudly it hurt, and watched Leo’s mouth compress into a tight line at the noise. 

“It doesn’t really matter if you listen to me or not, does it?” He lobbed back, and you reeled, expecting the next line like it’d already left his mouth. “You’ll still wind up in trouble, wouldn’t you?”

It’s too dangerous. For you. It’s nothing but trouble, believe me, I don’t want to place you in danger.

Self-sacrificing. The words whispered in your head then, they pissed you off now. You scoffed at him, waving a hand as though to brush off the memory. 

“Yea, whatever, I’m not putting up with this.” You told him, shoes clacking against the ground as you skirted him and went for the tunnel that led to the garage. You weren’t quite sure if you were walking home, but you were angry enough that if no one stopped you by the time you got to the hidden door, you would certainly try.

Leo’s arm snagged out, and you danced backwards, out of reach, teeth gritting because you know he let you. He could have easily grabbed you, hell it used to be a game to see how long you could keep away from his hold-

“This isn’t the time for this conversation.” Leo whispered, breaking into your thoughts, taking another step towards you. His eyes rolled skyward when you matched him with a step back. “Please, just- at least let’s go someplace where we have privacy.” He hissed the last word, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was referring to the orange banded blue eyeballs peeking out from behind the couch.

“We already had this conversation.” You reminded him, ten shades of done and tired. The whispered argument from before popped in your head, and before you could corral the words you stuck your whole foot in your mouth. “You think just because you had an- an epiphany, I’ll fall in line?” You snorted again, knowing the sound drove him crazy. “Good luck with that.”

The line had him pausing, brow furrowing as confusion cut through his anger, and you took advantage, all but hopping around him and belting for the tunnel that would lead you out, scooping up your coat and phone and trading the ice pack in their place in one smooth move along the way.

It might have been years of knowing them. It might have been sixth sense. It certainly wasn’t your hearing, he moved as silent as ever, but you twirled on instinct, incensed to find him a step behind you. 

Leo pulled back on those invisible strings once more when you all but snapped your teeth at him.

“You better let me have my space, Leo.” You took a step towards him without thinking, and this time it was him who took a half step back. “Back off.”

It was laughable, the thought that you could do anything to him if he pushed into your bubble once more, but that growl started up low in his chest, and you watched as his pupils blew wide, the dark eating up the normally brilliant blue until they were nothing more than light colored rings.

“Back off?” He repeated, growl slurring his words, and you locked your knees as his head swung into your space, shoulders rounding towards you. “But that’s not what you want, is it, princess?”

Ooooo…. That was- that was Raph’s nickname for you, and you stuttered, wondering if that was Leo’s subtle way of letting you know he knew exactly how much shit you were blowing out your ass.

You met him tic for tac, a hairs-breath from his face, blowing purposefully up his nose just to hear that growl hitch up to a higher register. “I told you want I wanted, Blue. You don’t get to throw a fit after you’ve already told me your verdict.”

You wondered if he’d break. You kind of wanted him to, to really yell, to give you some insight to his thoughts beyond what he allowed to filter through the mask. Your heart a fast staccato that almost drowned out whatever growl he was throwing out at your defiance.

He dipped his head to peer down his snout at you, and you weren’t sure what had you more pissed, the way he tried to reel himself in or the words he used. “I am trying to talk to you- if you would just calm down-”

“Oh, I think it’s you who needs to calm down, Leo.” You went to turn, dismissive and all at once feeling the hurt, and his hand snapped out. You thought maybe he was aiming for your arm and misjudged the angle, because instead his fist locked around the fabric of your blouse low on your hip.

“I can’t- be what you want!” He hissed at you, venomous, and you reeled, leaning back, the fabric of your blouse taunt in his fist. “I don’t know how to be human, act human!” He pulled you towards him too roughly, and your shoes squeaked against the polished cement floor. “This is what you’d get, what you’re so- so stupidly foolish to ask for-”

“Leonardo.” Splinter didn’t snap, but he might as well as bellowed at his eldest son. Leo sure acted like he did, hand snapping back fast enough that you almost slipped and fell before he corrected and caught your elbow, touch hauling you straight before it was gone just as quickly.

You refused to look up, conscious that you’d had an audience for the whole fight and it’d done nothing but spur you onwards. Mikey was still perched behind the couch, trying and failing to act like he wasn’t watching a drama. Splinter was at the top of the little stairs that led to his bedroom, cane perched between his two paws, ears swiveled to the side as if he was listening to something else.

Leo was stiff next to you, eyes on the floor, posture polite and hands tightly fisted to his sides. You couldn’t look at him head on, didn’t like the carefully blank face he was presenting.

You blew out a breath, hand pressing to your head for a beat as your headache started back up. “Sorry, Splinter. I got carried away.” Part of you wanted to throw Leo under the bus as well, but you knew he’d likely get his own version of a private talk once you were gone. “I’m just- just gonna go home.” You paused intentionally, then dipped into the bow you had seen Leo make to his sensei over the years. “I apologize.”

“You are always welcome here.” Splinter said softly, as if you weren’t just engaged in a shouting match with his honor child in the living room in front of god and sundry. “But for an old rat’s sake, please allow one of my sons to take you home, if that is what you wish.”

You side eyed Leo, hoping Splinter wasn’t suggesting what you thought he was suggesting.

Then Raph stepped out of the tunnel, pizza boxes stacked in his hands, wide green eyes trailing over Leo, before his gaze flicked to you and you cringed.

Knowing he had seen you lose your cool over Leo was somehow worse than Mikey seeing it, but then again, it was Raph that first weaseled your crush out of you months ago.

Raph arched a brow, tilted his head, then turned to Splinter. “I can take her home, Sensei.”

Splinter nodded. “Good, good.” He gestured at you with one paw. “Let Raphael take you home. Please.”

“Of course,” You said, bopping into a small bow again, and relaxing when Splinter turned his attention to his eldest.

“Leonardo, please, come speak with me.”

“Hai, Sensei.” He answered dutifully, face still carefully blank. He swayed forward like a pendulum, before he caught himself with a near silent scuff of his foot against the ground, and followed his father without a backwards glance.

Raph waited until the two had disappeared into the little room before he looked at you and whistled long and low between his teeth.

“God, just, shut up.” You told him, angry all over again, jamming your arms into your coat and belting for the exit. 

Raph chuckled, set the pizzas down on that table, and followed you back out, haphazardly calling to Mikey over his shoulder, “only one of those is yours, numb nuts!”

[ficmashup]

Home

Summary: You join TF141 after something happened on your last deployment. They take you in and while it takes some time, you find yourself warming up to them, and them to you. Perhaps especially to the Captain.

A/N: Yes, this is the last chapter, no, it is not the end of G and Price. It is the end of the regular updates. When I write fic, it's a break from my usual writing for my job. So, I can't do both. I'll definitely be posting more stuff though! :) I hope you all have enjoyed!

Warnings: Slight SA mentions if you squint, crass language.

Word Count: 3.2k

Feral Masterlist

It’s such a joy walking around London with Price on my arm as he shows me his favorite places. Each new place lets me see a new side of him, lets me peel back another layer that he doesn’t let everyone see. Not to mention he’s wearing a blue sweater that matches his eyes and I quickly decide that he should wear more sweaters. Especially when it begins to snow while we’re walking through a park and he gently pulls me into his arms with my back pressed against his chest. He’s so warm and fucking cuddly and all I can imagine for a few moments is curling into his lap in front of a crackling fire.

“This is a good look for you.” I say softly as I turn to face him, his arms still around me and my hands curled against his chest to light pat the sweater.

He smiles, raising a brow. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm. Want to get you a little beanie to match.” I reach up and let my fingers scrape over his beard affectionately while he stares down at me with sparkling eyes.

He hums and leans down to press his lips gently to mine, his arms tightening around me. “I’ll keep that in mind. Think I have a beanie somewhere in my flat.”

I smile against his lips and let myself feel stupidly giddy for a little bit. “You’ll have to wear it for me sometime.”

He chuckles and pulls back, letting my hands fall back down against his chest. “I’ve had women ask me to wear a lot of things, but a beanie is new.”

Curiosity pulls my brows up. “You’re going to have to tell me what you’ve dressed up as now.” He sighs, but there’s a smile on his face as I lean into him to get an answer.

“Ah…well, there’s the uniform, obviously.”

“Obviously.” I repeat, smirking at his playfully scolding look.

“I’ve had requests for a policeman, fireman, real serviceman based, apparently.”

“Can’t say the roles don’t suit you.” I tease and enjoy the slight pink tint to his cheeks as we start walking again and he keeps my arm tucked into the crook of his elbow.

He shrugs a shoulder. “There are definitely worse things.” He states with a shake of his head and I have a sneaking suspicion that he hasn’t told me all the things he’s been asked. But I’ll wait for another day to find out. “What about you?” He asks gently, his voice soft as the snowfall around us in case I don’t want to answer.

I look away, pressing my lips together while I feel my cheeks get a little hot. “I’ve done the usual. Lifeguard, nurse, cat woman, but the most requested has to be Princess Leia and the gold bikini.” My eyes wander back to Price and I can’t help grinning when I catch him nodding. “That something you’ve requested, John?” He clears his throat and his gaze drops to the ground for a few moments.

“I…might not be exempt.” He admits and I can’t hold back a giggle as I lightly squeeze his arm.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I say and feel his eyes on me as we keep walking through the gathering snow on the ground. Intimacy like that might be far off, but it’s nice to be able to talk about it so openly without feeling pressure or fear. It’s just fun.

*     *     *

The next day, I take him for breakfast in a favorite diner of mine. We meet there and there’s a wide grin on my face when I see him come in wearing another sweater and a beanie. I slide out of my booth to greet him while he holds his arms out to his sides slightly for appraisal. “I approve. You look very…cozy.” I tell him and give him a fond kiss to his cheek when he’s close enough.

“So do you.” His fingers lightly pull my jacket a little tighter around me and straightens my scarf.

“Think you might’ve realized by now that I run a little cold.” I say with a little tilt of my head and he nods, his eyes looking me over as if he didn’t just see me yesterday. He lets me guide him into the booth, giving me a cute little smile as I sit next to him instead of across from him. An older waitress named Dana comes by immediately.

“Hey, darlin’. What’ll it be for you and your fella?” She asks with her usual charm.

“Coffee for now, thank you.” I nod to her and she gives me a wink, looking Price over curiously before she walks away.

Price rests an elbow on the table and turns towards me slightly. “Come here often?”

I relax back into my seat with a quiet sigh, looking over the little diner and the people milling around it. “This is the place I come to after a hard mission. When I need to remind myself of the good things, when I need to remember what it’s like to not be a soldier.” A soft smile pulls at my lips at the sight of a small family across the diner; two parents trying to feed their toddler and laughing as he smears the food over his face.

“I understand.” John says quietly beside me and I feel his arm slide on top of the booth behind me, letting me settle a bit more into his side. “The park is that place for me. I’ve spent hours sitting on a bench watching people pass by, getting used to the sights and smells of civilian life. Sometimes it takes a few days to decompress.”

My shoulders lax as I shift closer and rest my hand on his knee. “After the worst of it, I spent a week here. I only went home to sleep and even then, only a few hours before I was back here. All I could do was try to be around people and try to remember what life was supposed to be.” I sigh, shifting a bit in place before I feel John’s gentle touch on my arm, his fingers lightly skimming up and down. My head rests back against his shoulder while my thumb draws little circles on his knee. “That’s when the people here really got to know me. Like Dana. Her kindness and tendency to gossip kept me sane.”

“Didn’t take you for a gossip, sugar.” John teases and I smile, turning my head to look at him.

“Hm, I’m not a perpetrator, but I’ll listen.” He chuckles and I love being able to feel the rumble in his chest.

“Thank you for sharing with me.” He says a touch quieter and my hand reaches up to lightly scratch his beard.

“Gladly.” I bathe in his steady attention and the only thing that drags us away is the clink of cups and plates on the table. We both look over as Dana sets our requested coffees in front of us along with three plates of food.

“Coffee, your usual, something for your man, and some extra protein for the both of you. Fill up.” She looks at me pointedly and I give her an easy smile.

“Thank you, Dana.” I say with humor tainting my every word before I gesture to John. “This is John Price.” He offers his hand to her immediately and she takes it, holding on tight with her penetrating gaze trained on him.

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” John says sweetly and Dana raises a brow, then smiles before pulling back and putting a hand on her hip.

“About time you brought a man around, sweetie. And he seems like a good one.” She nods to me while my head ducks, my cheeks hot as she walks away.

Price taps lightly on my arm. “I like her.” He says and I can hear the smile in his voice.

“Mm, well, the feeling is clearly mutual.” My head shakes, but I can’t help but smiling in return as he chuckles. “Hope you don’t mind her just bringing food. It’s happened every time I’ve come here.” Our eyes meet again and the only thing I find in his is amusement and affection.

“Don’t mind a bit. Glad you’ve had someone looking out for you before.” He keeps an arm around me as he looks over the piles of food Dana gave us and I watch him for a moment, taking in the insinuation that he and the boys are here to look after me now.

I lean in and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Good. Now, Dana will expect us to eat all of this, so I hope you’re prepared.” I slide silverware toward him and look away from his fond expression before I melt in my seat.

*     *     *

It feels stupid that I’m fucking nervous.

I’ve hung around the boys like this before, watched the game and laughed as they argued, but never in someone’s home. And this is the first time we’re all together after the dynamic with Price has changed. I just hope I haven’t…messed anything up somehow.

That’s why I’m standing in front of his door after knocking, my knuckles white from how tightly I’m clinging to the bag over my shoulder. Muffled voices come through the door before it swings open to reveal a grinning Gaz. “Don’t have to knock on days like this, G. Get in here.” He pulls me in and divests me of my bag, setting it on the counter before turning back to me with a grin. My nerves vanish.

“Why are you the one dragging people in when you don’t even live here?” I ask with a small laugh, leaning into him to give him a brief hug. He seems surprised, but quickly embraces me in return.

“Don’t trust Price to step away from the kitchen to answer the door. Barely trust him in the kitchen at all.” He mutters as he leans into me conspiratorially while we glance to John stirring a large pot on the stove.

“But you certainly fucking eat my food.” He returns, glancing over at us while I try to hide my soft smile. He’s in jeans and a navy Henley with the sleeves rolled up. He looks very domestic like this and it suits him. “Welcome, G.”

“Captain.” I greet him before breaking eye contact as I pull my dip from the bag. Gaz instantly peeks over my shoulder and I swat his hand off the bowl. “Dessert is for after you all have stuffed your faces with everything else. Besides, it needs to chill.” He pouts and reaches for it again before I rebuff him with a bump to his hip.

“Come on, G. Let me try it.”

“No.” I slide it into Price’s fridge and shoo Gaz back with a smirk, pressing my back against the doors to keep him from going after it. “Whatever happened to complaining I was bringing a dessert dip in the first place, huh?”

Gaz huffs. “I said I’d try it after that.”

“And I’ll let you. When we’re halfway through the game.” I give him a pointed look so he knows I mean it and the corner of my mouth twitches when I hear Price chuckle. There’s a knock at the door and my head tilts for Gaz to go get it. His eyes roll and he walks away with slumped shoulders. My head shakes as I slide over to Price and he immediately stretches out an arm to make space for me to fold myself into him.

“I like this.” I tug slightly on his shirt, my hand resting on his sternum as I peek into the pot he’s stirring. Chili, by the looks of it. “Looks good on you.”

He stoops and quickly presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “Yeah? Well, I like this.” He holds me a little tighter and I let myself grin up at him. “Gonna be hard not reaching for you today.”

“Want to just send the boys home and snuggle on the couch?” I tease, pulling away as I hear the others coming in.

Price chuckles and sighs as I move out of reach. “Don’t tempt me.” He keeps his voice low and I smirk as I pull out the other things I brought while Gaz leads the others inside. It’s easy having everyone together again and I’m glad there’s no strain despite being out of work and having no goal. The new goal is to relax and have fun and we actually do.

I try settle in the chair off to the side while the boys take the couch, but this immediately starts an argument. “G, sit here. Want you to try my dip.” Gaz beckons while Soap frowns.

“Not gonna want yours when she tries mine.” He flick’s Gaz’s ear before Gaz elbows him in the stomach.

“It’s not going to matter if you both get into a brawl and knock the table over.” Simon scolds and tugs both men back by their belts to sit on the couch, sighing heavily as they continue jabbing at each other with grins on their faces. I shake my head and walk back into the kitchen as John spoons chili into bowls.

“The kids are rowdy today.” I comment and grin when he chuckles.

“And this is when they’re on their best behavior.” He returns in the same low tone while I watch him add different toppings to each bowl. Seems like he already knows what each person likes.

I raise a brow. “This is good behavior?”

Price nods with a secret smile. “This effort is for you. Usually they come in with prepackaged everything and one person makes something homemade. This time, they all insisted on making something.” Surprise flits through me as I look over at the boys, softening at the thought that they went through the trouble of making things for me.

“Does that include you?” I peek up at him and try to hide my smirk as he swallows and shrugs a shoulder.

“A little.” He admits and I sway into him while the boys are distracted by getting the tv to the right channel.

“I appreciate that.” It’s actually fucking adorable, but I don’t think those words would be as appreciated. John simply slides a bowl of chili towards me and watches all the little things I add to it, his gaze turning all soft and sweet in the way that makes me melt.

“You may not appreciate it so much when they’re all pushing food on you.” He nudges another bowl towards me. “That’s Simon’s. Good luck.” He winks at me before heading over and I follow with a shake of my head.

I instantly have their attention as I walk over and hand Simon his bowl. “Tell us where you’d like to sit and we’ll move.” He says while Price retreats to the lone chair off to the side with a barely hidden smirk on his face.

“I’ll just sit on the floor—” I blink as each man immediately objects, but Johnny is the one who gets up and gently tugs on my arm to sit me down in his place.

“My mam would have my fuckin’ ears if I let a lady sit on the floor.” He mutters, sitting in the floor beside the arm of the couch while I fold my legs under me to give him space.

“I’ve literally slept in the dirt along with all of you. Sitting on the floor isn’t a big deal.” I remind them, amused and a bit confused at their reactions.

Gaz clicks his tongue. “Not the same. You’re not in uniform.”

“Oh, so I’m a lady when I’m not in uniform?” I tease, happily stirring my chili and holding the warm bowl close in my lap.

Simon reaches over and flicks my ear. “Clearly not.” I show him my middle finger and he smirks. “Just let us try and treat you nice every once and a while, alright? It’s good for us.”

I relax into the couch and relent, nodding. “Nice to see you all can act like gentlemen once and a while anyway.” That’s answered with scoffs and I look at Price who still has that little smirk on his face. Though it’s a little softer than before. The dip argument is eventually settled when I let them make me a plate and they pile it high. All are actually good, though apparently Simon underestimated the amount of spice he added and none of the men can handle it. Which makes it all the more hilarious when I eat a quarter of the bowl while Soap tries to keep up and ends up almost crying.

Honestly, watching them is more fun than watching the game. They groan in unison when there’s a bad play, they shout when the ref makes a bad call, and I can’t help but cheer along with them when their team makes a goal. Gaz eagerly reminds me of my dessert the second halftime hits and I retrieve it, putting it in the middle of the table. It’s basically chocolate whipped cream and I serve it with graham crackers and strawberries. I make Price a small plate and hand it to him in his chair while I wait beside him for the others to try it.

Gaz makes sure he’s first and he dips a strawberry, then shoves the whole thing into his mouth. His eyes go wide and my hand squeezes Price’s shoulder. “Holy shit, that’s good.” My hand laxes even as I swat Price for his silent laugh.

“You’re a good cook. You had nothing to worry about.” He assures me and risks sliding his hand over mine while the others are distracted. Soap and Ghost try it out and they have the same reaction. Half the bowl is gone before I know it, although I have to threaten to take it away when Gaz tries to hog it. I’m too pleased to even tease them about liking it so much.

By the end of the game, Simon is the one who has claimed the bowl and is idly licking the bottom while Soap tries fruitlessly to shove him off the couch. Everyone eventually filters out after helping clean up and I smile when John immediately reaches for me the second that we’re alone. “That was fun.” I murmur against his shoulder as he pulls me down onto the couch next to him and tucks me against his side.

“Mm. Glad we didn’t exhaust you.” He says sounding pretty tired himself.

I smirk and heave a contented breath. “Didn’t say that.” He smiles and I feel the warmth of his hand as he slides it up and down my back.

“You need to leave?” He peeks down at me and I shake my head.

“I can stay a little while longer. If you’ll have me.”

“I’ll happily keep you, sugar.” His other hand slides over my knee to rest in the crease above my calf and I risk letting my legs stretch out a bit. Price makes a deep sound in his chest and pulls me closer so my legs are draped over his lap. His eyes shut as he rests his head back on the couch and I watch him with a little smile before my eyes slowly shut as well. We fall asleep like that and I can’t help thinking that if more of my days are like this one, and like they have been with this team, I think my life would be a happy one. Finally.

Taglist (thank you all for reading and wanting to be tagged, I'll keep tagging you in new stuff with Price and G unless you say otherwise!)

@under-the-dirt @jj-ara33 @sorchateas @cherry-blosom-tree

@thriving-n-jiving @jinxxangel13 @emsstuff1 @missmidnight-writes @thereeallink @younggirlgenius @1wh4re1nova

[mylo-space]

Welcome to Your Future

Summary: After a ritual goes awry, MK finds a memory-impaired Macaque in his dojo. Macaque, confused and more than a little overwhelmed by the changes, seeks out the one person he finds most familiar in the hopes that he can get some answers. And Wukong, faced with a Macaque unburdened by their millennia of rivalry, realizes there are some pretty complicated emotions resurfacing, and he's not sure he can bury them a second time.

Completed on Ao3: 2024-06-24 Word Count: 81,428 Chapters: 11

Chapter 1: Lost Memories, Found Names >> Chapter 2

-

If MK were to have any fatal flaw at all, it would probably be that he was a tad more trusting than he should be, considering he was in a position to make a lot of very powerful enemies. On the bright side, his optimism usually convinced people not to kill him. In the year or so since receiving the Monkey King’s powers, most of the people who’d attacked him, usually for some revenge plot or another, ended up becoming allies. Some of them had even become good friends.

Others became mentors.

MK considered himself a very enthusiastic student, and Macaque was by no means a reluctant mentor, but their lessons typically weren’t very substantial. They mostly just hung out, and Macaque occasionally offered up some advice, but it was an unspoken rule that the physical training got left to Monkey King.

It wasn’t that MK didn’t trust Macaque to do some combat training with him, it just brought up a lot of memories that they’d both rather forget. That, and MK had a sneaking suspicion that he still reminded Macaque of Monkey King. Which seemed to be a pretty common problem among most of the people Monkey King used to call his friends.

So, they didn’t do much training, but Macaque was still content to call himself MK’s mentor, if only because it annoyed Monkey King to no end. And MK was content to let him, only because he knew Monkey King wasn’t actually as annoyed by it as he pretended to be.

Truthfully, neither one of them seemed to hate each other nearly as much as their bantering would suggest. MK never got an answer about it, no matter how much he asked, but he’d learned that immortals were just strange that way. They had all the time in the world to work out their issues, and refused.

He considered asking Macaque again, maybe in a slightly roundabout way. Macaque generally saw through that kind of thing, but it never stopped MK from trying. And, maybe, MK mused as he pulled up to his co-mentor’s dojo, recent events might encourage the reserved Mystic Monkey to open up.

Long shot, probably. But MK was optimistic.

MK knocked on Macaque’s door, humming a jingle he’d heard from a commercial on TV while he waited. He’d finished delivering noodles for the day, and figured it wouldn’t hurt stopping in a little earlier than usual for his ‘training’ with Macaque.

After a few moments of no answer, MK knocked again. “Hey, Macaque!” he called. “Open up, man, I know you can hear me!”

It crossed his mind briefly that maybe Macaque was just out roaming the city. MK had shown up a couple hours early, it was possible Macaque would show if he waited around long enough. Only odd thing about it was that Macaque didn’t usually just ‘roam the city’, or roam much of anywhere, for that matter. It wasn’t the first time MK had shown up early, and Macaque was always home.

“Hey, uh-” MK knocked on the door, deliberate and loud, “Macaque? You’re kinda weirding me out here, so… I’m just gonna open the door, if that’s cool.”

The door creaked as it opened, and MK was met with a poorly lit room. Not that Macaque’s dojo was particularly bright on any given day, which was sometimes a nice change from the glaring, neon city, but it was especially dim. MK tried to convince himself that it wasn’t as concerning as the fluttering in his chest insisted it was.

Pulling out his staff, MK tentatively closed the door behind him and walked through Macaque’s dojo. “Hello?” he said loudly, a reluctant shout. “You in here, Macaque?” A noise caught him off guard, a strangled gasp escaping him as he moved to press himself against the nearest wall.

He had half a mind to be embarrassed. The noise was hardly a threatening sounding thing, just the wisp of magic, a glimmer of power. It would have been nearly indiscernible anywhere else, but in Macaque’s near silent dojo, it may as well have been an explosion. It’d always been quiet at Macaque’s place, which was kind of impressive, considering it stood in the middle of a bustling city.

Fortunately, the quiet energy was familiar. After a few steadying breaths, MK recognized Macaque’s magic hovering in the air. He hadn’t quite figured out how that worked, sensing other people’s magic, but he assumed it was another weird 'Mystic Monkey’ thing that he’d have to learn. Just when he’d thought he’d gotten things down, there was always something new.

In any case, the magic was warm. Not as warm as Monkey King’s, a near constant heat buried under stone skin, embers in the aftermath of a fire, eager to relight. Macaque’s magic was a subtle warmth, a patch of grass warmed by sunlight, a heat soothed by shade and a cool breeze.

It took a moment of searching, but he traced the magic to a room near the back of Macaque’s dojo. The door was left slightly ajar, and a light spilled through the crack. “Macaque?” MK said quietly, pushing open the door. “Macaque, are you…” He trailed off at the sight of Macaque sitting in the room, cross-legged with his hands on his knees, eyes closed and face passive.

MK, thinking perhaps Macaque was just meditating, knocked on the open door to get his attention. It almost looked like Monkey King’s transcendental meditation, but the magic around him looked different. Macaque didn’t glow like Monkey King had, there was just a steady swirl of soft blue around his head, two streams of magic that flowed in steady circles around his ears.

When knocking didn’t snap Macaque out of whatever was happening, MK walked into the room. “What kind of meditation is this?” he asked aloud, not bothering to wait for an answer as he gingerly poked Macaque’s arm with his staff. “Hey, Macaque,” he sang quietly, as though trying to wake a child from their nap. “Wakey, wakey.”

Macaque’s tail flicked, which MK took as a good sign, and moved to shake his shoulder. The magic stuttered, the flow breaking apart a bit, and Macaque’s face scrunched in discomfort.

“Macaque?” MK took a step back as the magic began to flicker, expanding and contracting erratically. It crackled, until the steady streams were jagged bolts of energy. “Macaque!” MK tried, abandoning the staff to grab Macaque by both shoulders and shake him.

The magic around Macaque didn’t feel threatening, but the whispers hadn’t seemed so dangerous, either, until the Lady Bone Demon had overtaken some of the strongest fighters he knew. She’d stolen away his mentor and his best friend, shards of ice wreaking havoc in the city, destroying the world. And even Azure had seemed harmless, until he wasn’t, until he’d revealed his true intentions, until he’d almost dissolved the universe to achieve his goals, so maybe MK had been wrong to assume that the magic surrounding Macaque was innocuous.

“Macaque!” MK demanded. He had been certain Macaque was past trying to hurt him to get to Monkey King, things had been relatively peaceful for a few months, but now there was frostbite in his ears and shadows on the walls, and his heart raced with the possibility that maybe Macaque’s need for a fight hadn’t been satiated, after all. ”Wake up!”

At that, Macaque’s eyes snapped open, inhaling sharply as though pulled from underwater. MK had just a breath to be relieved, until he saw Macaque’s violet irises. The magic turned one vicious circle around the shadow before surging outward, a ring of energy knocking MK back into the wall behind him.

MK scrabbled to grab his staff and staggered to his feet on unsteady legs, his vision blurred from the impact. He blinked against light that surrounded Macaque, watching warily until it faded. “Okay,” he breathed, “this is probably fine, uh-” He cleared his throat, his gaze finally focusing on the crumpled form of Macaque. “Are you okay? Macaque?”

All Macaque gave in response was a groan, pushing himself up off the ground and shaking his head. Purple wisps dissipated as he stood, looking just as unsteady as MK. “What’s happening?” he finally managed, turning to MK with confusion etched into his features. “How did you…” His gaze drifted to MK’s staff, “Why do you have-”

“Macaque?” MK said slowly, “Is everything okay? We were- we had training today, remember?”

“Training?” Macaque asked, looking bewildered, which was not an expression MK was used to seeing. “Kid, I don’t even… who are you?”

MK blanched at that. “Who- what the donk are you talking about?” he asked. “Is this a joke?” He lowered the staff to the ground, setting his free hand disapprovingly on his hip. “We need to work on your sense of humor, man. I’m fine with you scheming and pulling pranks and- you know, being a general menace, but giving me a heart attack does not give off the ‘cool mentor’ vibes you think it does.”

Macaque blinked at MK like he’d spoken a different language. “Okay, well… that didn’t make any sense,” he said. “So, I’m gonna ask this again,” he lifted his hands placatingly, “and I need you to stick with me on this.” His gaze flicked around the room. “Who are you, and–while I’m asking questions–where am I?” Eyes narrowing on the staff, Macaque added, “And, uh… how did you get that?”

Uneasiness settled in MK’s chest at the questions. Macaque’s voice lacked the playful lilt it usually had when he teased MK, and the confusion on his face was so genuine, so much more vulnerable than the shadow would allow under normal circumstances. “You’re freaking me out,” MK said.

“I’m standing in a room I’ve never seen before with a kid I’ve never met,” Macaque replied shortly. “Not to mention you’re holding a staff that doesn’t belong to you.” MK flinched back at the clipped tone, and Macaque seemed to realize how sharp his voice was, because he took a step back, face softening. “Look, I- you seem like a nice kid, and I don’t want to hurt you if I don’t have to.” He gestured to the staff. “But I need to know why you have that.”

MK hesitated for a moment. “I’m… okay, let’s start over.” He shrank the staff and tucked it away, startling Macaque, as though he hadn’t expected MK to actually be able to wield the weapon. “My name is MK,” he started. “I’m the Monkey King’s successor, and I-”

“Successor?” Macaque interrupted incredulously.

“Uh… well, that’s- that is what I said, yeah.”

Macaque let out a startled laugh. “How long has Wukong had a student? He should have told me that he was-” His smile faltered. “He should’ve… he would have told me if he had a student.” He studied MK carefully. “And your clothes look strange.”

Looking down in surprise, MK tugged at his jacket, inspecting the white shirt underneath. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“What was I doing when you came in?”

MK turned to check the back of his jacket. “No, seriously, what’s wrong with my clothes?”

“Hey, kiddo,” Macaque insisted, “I really need you to focus, okay?”

“Right!” MK straightened, nodding quickly. “Right, sorry, totally focused. What’s the question? Hit me with it.” Macaque opened his mouth to answer, just as it occurred to MK that he’d already asked the question. “Oh, yeah! So, uh- I don’t really know what you were doing in here?” he said. “Some kind of magic ritual thingie, maybe. It kinda looked like you were meditating?”

Macaque frowned. “Meditating?” He gestured to the sides of his head. “There wasn’t any magic going on up here, was there?”

“There was, yeah,” MK told him. “I didn’t know what was happening, and I panicked, so I just…” he shrugged helplessly, “I tried to wake you up.” Dread pooled in his stomach, hoping that his decision hadn’t just irreversibly messed something up. “Why? Was that- is that bad? Did I do a bad?”

Inhaling sharply through his teeth, Macaque replied, “Maybe? I don’t know, honestly, I just… well, I’ve never had this problem before.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Ah, Wukong is going to kill me when he finds out.”

MK scowled. “That’s not funny, dude.”

His reprimand was met with a confused tilt of Macaque’s head. “What isn’t?” His focus flitted away before MK could answer, looking around the room curiously. “Wait, where are we again?”

“This is your place,” MK replied. “Well, it’s a room in your place.” He waved for Macaque to follow him. “Come on, maybe seeing your stuff will, uh… I don’t know, jog your memory or something.” Macaque cautiously followed him out of the room and into the dim dojo. “Forgot how dark it was in here, one second,” he moved to the lightswitch on the wall, “lemme just get this-”

Macaque made a noise of surprise as the dojo’s overhead lights kicked on. They weren’t terribly bright, but the shadow recoiled from them all the same. “What is that?” He reached up gingerly, hand hovering around a lightbulb like it might burn him. “Did you do this? Doesn’t look like any kind of magic I’ve ever seen.”

MK shook his head. “It’s just a lightbulb, dude. It’s like, you know, electricity? Pretty much every house in the city has some.” His brow furrowed as Macaque continued to marvel at incredibly mundane things around the dojo. “So, uh… you recognize anything?”

“Huh?” Macaque said absently, “Uh, yeah, some of this… it’s definitely my stuff.” He ran a hand over the weapons rack. “I just don’t know why it’s here, and not on Flower Fruit Mountain.”

“I mean, probably because you live here?” MK offered.

Macaque whirled on him at that, eyes wide with shock. “I live here?” His hands flailed a bit, gesturing around the dojo. “Why do I live here?” He demanded, “What happened to Flower Fruit Mountain?”

Lifting his hands in surrender, hoping that it’d placate the panicking immortal, MK quickly explained, “Monkey King still lives on Flower Fruit Mountain, nothing happened to it, you guys just-”

“Then I need to get back,” Macaque said, breezing past MK and towards the door. “How far is it from here?”

“Uh- hold on!” MK wasn’t sure what he was dealing with, but if Macaque was startled by a lightbulb, the city was going to be a whole different kind of shock. “Let’s just- uh, hang on a second-”

But Macaque had already thrown open the door, barely taking one step outside before he was reeling. “What the hell is that?” His hands clapped over his ears as he stumbled back into the dojo. “What is-”

MK rushed forward to slam the door shut. “Okay! So, just to explain some stuff here, you live in the city,” he explained. Macaque reluctantly moved his hands, the outside noise banished with the closed door. “And it’s a pretty big city. There’s lots of people, lots of cars, lots of… lots of everything, really.”

“Right,” Macaque nodded, blinking owlishly. “Can I just-” His body dropped until he was crouched on the ground, resting on the balls of his feet. “Could you give me a second, kid?” He asked, lacing together his fingers and pressing them against his forehead. “Processing some stuff here.”

All things considered, MK was having a pretty weird day, but it occurred to him suddenly that Macaque was probably having a way weirder day than he was. “Yeah, that was probably a lot.” He gave Macaque’s shoulder a reluctant pat. The Macaque he knew probably wouldn’t have accepted any kind of reassurance, but this Macaque looked like he needed it.  “You, uh… you good?

“Probably,” Macaque mumbled. “Just gotta get ahold of myself.” He took a deep breath, the shoulder under MK’s hand trembling on the exhale. “What century is this?”

“I think we’re somewhere in the 21st century?” MK replied, “Probably. It’s not super clear.” He cleared his throat. “I’m guessing things are a little different than you remember?”

Macaque hummed. “Pretty much everything.” He stood and brushed off his shirt. “Okay, let’s try that-” He paused, looking down at himself with an odd expression. “That… that’s not right.”

“What isn’t? Your shirt?” MK shrugged. “You wear that thing all the time.”

“Do I wear it wrong all the time?” Macaque asked. “Because it’s folded-” He shook his head. “Whatever. I’ll worry about it later.” He looked back to MK. “So, about getting to Flower Fruit Mountain.”

MK clapped his hands together. “Yes! Flower Fruit Mountain, can do.” The issue with that was the Monkey King himself. MK was sure that Macaque wasn’t trying to pull anything, but he doubted his mentor would feel the same. If MK enlisted the help of Monkey King, there was a pretty high chance that he’d taunt the shadow rather than help. “There might be, uh- a slight problem with that, actually.”

“What?” Macaque crossed his arms. “Why?”

“Well-” MK was saved from having to say anything else by his phone, which exploded with sound. “Uh, hold that thought.” MK pulled his phone out of his pocket and fumbled with it for a moment. “I gotta take this.” And he did, not just because it served as a good distraction, but because MK had learned that if he missed a few calls from his friends, they would assume another world-destroying threat had appeared and start panicking.

Macaque frowned at MK’s phone. “What is that?”

MK made a vague gesture for him to wait as he answered the phone, quickly glancing at the caller ID before putting it to his ear. “Hey, Mei! Now isn’t really a good time, if I could just call you back-”

“MK!” Mei interrupted. “They fixed the Monkey Mech game at the arcade,” she informed him cheerfully, “and I owe you about two weeks of butt-kicking.”

“That’s great, Mei,” MK said, “but I kinda got a situation here, so-”

“Who are you talking to?” Macaque asked, tilting his head curiously at MK’s phone, like the device might somehow make more sense at forty-five degrees. “Is the talking box magic? Or is this another lightbulb situation?”

Shooing Macaque away, MK replied, “It’s another lightbulb thing, don’t worry about it.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway! Mei, I really-”

“Is that Macaque?” Mei gasped, “Oh, you should totally invite him to the arcade! Then I can kick both your butts at Monkey Mech. That counts as training, right? I feel like that should count as training.”

Macaque waved as though Mei could see him. “Hello, girl in MK’s talking box,” he greeted awkwardly, clearly unsure what to make of the phone. “What’s an arcade?”

Mei winced, “How out of touch is this guy?” she asked quietly. “Even Monkey King knows what a videogame is.”

“Does Wukong know her?” Macaque leaned closer to MK’s phone. “Girl in the talking box! Do you know Wukong?”

MK gently shoved Macaque away from his ear. “It’s called a phone, Macaque, would you just- Mei, I’m putting you on speaker.” He pulled the phone away from his head to find whatever button would play Mei’s voice aloud, so that Macaque didn’t have to talk in his ear to be part of the conversation. “There! Okay, um- Mei? I have a serious situation here, and it’s not a ‘go to the arcade now and fix it later’ kind of problem.”

“Macaque isn’t trying anything, is he?” Mei demanded, her voice suddenly taking on a low, dangerous tone. “MK, what did he do?”

“I just met MK five minutes ago, why would I do anything?” Macaque exclaimed, looking bewildered at the very notion. “And how did you get inside this box?”

“No, Mei, Macaque didn’t do anything this time,” MK told her quickly, and Macaque looked disturbed by the phrase this time. MK hoped that they’d figure out how to fix Macaque before he had to explain what had happened. “Macaque is the situation, he’s… I don’t know, he’s stuck. And I don’t know how to fix him.”

“Stuck how?”

Macaque made an unsure noise. “Yeah, we’re still trying to figure that out, too.”

“Hence, ‘the situation’.” MK pinched the bridge of his nose. “He doesn’t remember a lot of stuff right now, and I don’t know how to make him unforget. And, no, before you ask,” MK interjected before Mei could, “he’s not faking it. He’s a good actor, but he’s not this good.”

“Thank you,” Macaque said brightly. “I think. Have you seen me perform?”

“You’re absolutely sure this isn’t a trick?” Mei asked skeptically.

MK hummed. “Mm-hm, like, ninety-nine point nine percent sure.” He sighed, “But I have no idea how to fix it, and I’m not sure I can bring him to Monkey King-”

Macaque straightened at that. “Wait, why can’t we go to Wukong for help?”

“Uh- he’s busy,” MK said quickly. “Doing Mystic Monkey business, probably.” It was a lie, but it was easier than explaining the long, complicated history between them. Especially since MK didn’t actually know a lot about what happened. Macaque didn’t look very satisfied with the answer, but he didn’t press.

There was something garbled on Mei’s end of the line, a gruff voice that MK could recognize anywhere, even if he couldn’t hear the words. “Yeah, so,” Mei said, “Piggy is saying to bring him here? He and Tang think they might know what’s happening.”

“Really?” MK asked. “That’s great! We’ll meet you guys over there.” He hung up the phone, turning to Macaque with a grin. “Okay, change of plans. How do you feel about noodles?”

Macaque gave a half-hearted shrug. “I mean, they’re fine, I guess?” He fidgeted with his scarf, tugging at the red fabric with a crinkled nose. “Why? Are there noodles where we’re going?”

“Pigsy will probably have some ready when we get over there. He owns a noodle shop, and I work as his delivery boy,” MK explained while Macaque turned in a circle, staring at the tail end of his scarf as though baffled by it. “Did you- do you wanna change before we head out?”

“Can I?” Macaque swatted at the flowing scarf in irritation. “This stupid hanfu is driving me insane, and the scarf isn’t much better. It wasn’t even cold outside.” He started wrestling the red fabric over his head as he walked to the back of the dojo. “I’m gonna go look around this… whatever this is, and find something sensible to wear. I’ll be right back.”

MK wondered if Macaque would be insulted by himself when he got back to normal, taking jabs at his own fashion choice. He couldn’t wait to relay everything that had happened to the shadow when his memories came back, exposing the edgy lord of shadows for the softie he was, because MK did genuinely believe, somewhere deep down, that Macaque was still this soft.

But in order to tease Macaque about his long-buried softness, they’d have to fix him first. And MK figured Macaque would probably take a while with the wardrobe change–he could hear the shadow opening and closing doors, apparently having trouble figuring out which room might have some spare clothes–so he leaned against the nearest wall and scrolled through his phone. While he waited, he looked up the proper way to wear a hanfu. He wasn’t super familiar with traditional clothing, but Macaque seemed adamant that it was wrong, and MK was curious.

The results he got were a little more off-putting than he had anticipated. A hanfu wasn’t supposed to be folded the way Macaque’s had been, right over left, unless it was on a corpse, which had a pretty disturbing implication that MK didn’t want to think too hard about, even if it was just symbolism. He shoved his phone and his pocket and resolved to scold Macaque for his dramatics later.

“Hey, kid,” Macaque called, stepping back into the dojo, wearing what looked like a simpler version of the hanfu he’d taken off, folded left over right and accessorized with a red bandana. He looked nearly identical to the memories MK had seen in the Scroll. “I’m pretty sure that city outside is pretty difficult to navigate if you're a millennia behind the times. How are we getting to this noodle shop?”

“I’ll drive us there,” MK replied, “but we should probably head out now before traffic gets bad.” He started for the door, but stopped with his hand on the door handle. “Uh… is there any kind of- like, a magic thing you can do? So the city doesn’t hurt your ears so much?”

Macaque made an unsure noise. “I can keep them hidden, but there’s not much I can do for the sound.”

“Sorry, hidden?” MK clarified, confused by the statement as Macaque’s ears were clearly in plain view. Though, when MK thought about it, his full name was the ‘Six-Eared Macaque’. He hadn’t ever considered that the name was literal, but Macaque was capable of creating some pretty powerful illusions. MK knew about the scar he kept hidden, it was reasonable to assume that the shadow might keep a couple extra sets of ears hidden, too.

“Uh-huh,” Macaque replied absently. “Wukong usually handles the noise when I need it, but he’s not here… for some reason.” He looked around, like something in the four walls might have more answers if he looked hard enough. “I don’t know why I’d be doing this without Wukong around,” the shadow muttered quietly. “We must have become morons in the future.”

“You mean the present,” MK corrected. “Right? This is still the present? You’re morons in the present.”

“Technically, yeah,” Macaque conceded. “But my memories are stuck in the past somehow, so to me? It’s the future, and I’m not an idiot yet.”

“You know, fair enough!” MK replied, opening the door and letting the city noise back into the dojo. “Let me know if the city gets too loud for you, I’ll let you borrow my headphones.”

Macaque followed MK outside with a barely audible wince. “Your what phone? The box you were talking into?”

MK took the blue headphones off of his neck. “Put these over your ears,” he instructed, hopping in the driver side of his tuk-tuk and putting his key in the ignition. “They’re noise canceling, and I can play some music if you want.”

“No, it’s…” Macaque slipped the headphones over his ears, looking pleasantly surprised at the lack of noise. “This is great, actually.” He slid into the passenger seat of the tuk-tuk, looking around the city in amazement. “The mortals have gotten creative over the years.”

“Yup!” MK drove slower than he usually would, letting Macaque take in the sights as they made their way across the city. “Nothing like good ol’ human ingenuity.” He turned onto a busy street, watching in amusement as Macaque marveled at the skyscrapers and buses and neon signs. “It’s weird seeing you like this, you know? You’re not usually this enthusiastic.”

“Really?” Macaque asked. “What am I usually like?”

MK hummed. “You sorta got this… like, a slightly edgier vibe going on? Kinda broody, a little mean-ish.” Macaque looked concerned at that, so MK quickly amended with, “I think you have good- like, mostly good intentions, you’re just not always the nicest person, you know?”

“Mean, huh?” Macaque mumbled. “Wonder when that started happening.” MK had a few guesses, most of them involving a fight he saw, one deep below a mountain, but he kept that to himself. “I’m sure Wukong will know what’s going on. Whenever he gets back from his… what’d you call it? ‘Mystic Monkey’ business? I’m gonna need him to fill me in on a few things.”

“Well, hopefully we can get you fixed before he has to explain anything,” MK said. “No ‘filling you in’ required, because there’s, like, hundreds of years worth of stuff to tell you, and I don’t think Monkey King would have the patience.”

Macaque chuckled. “Fair enough.” He leaned back in his seat. “I can’t wait to tell him all about this when I see him again.” MK stopped at a red light, turning to watch Macaque. It was odd seeing an almost child-like wonder from the otherwise cynical shadow. It was easy to see how Monkey King had gotten along with Macaque in the past, if this was the Macaque he’d befriended.

But it made a small, anxious pit in MK’s stomach, knowing that this Macaque was also, somehow, the same Macaque that stripped him of his powers and pinned him to a mountain. The Macaque so eager to see Monkey King had grown to be someone who’d go to unfathomable lengths just to provoke his former friend into fighting him. MK had seen some pieces of their past, a peach-scented promise on a beach and a vicious, scathing fight from under a mountain, but it still seemed so surreal, that two people who cared about each other so much could become such bitter enemies.

MK shook his head as the light above him turned green. Macaque lurched a bit as MK hit the gas, and he put his hand out to brace himself on the dash. “So,” the shadow asked, “how far are we from this noodle shop?”

“It’s right up ahead,” MK told him, turning down familiar streets. “Oh, and just a heads up, I guess, because you don’t… you don’t remember it, but you don’t always get along with my friends. So, if everyone’s a little on edge, don’t take it personally.”

“Huh,” Macaque frowned as MK pulled up alongside the shop. “Well, I guess that’s not a surprise. I don’t get along with a lot of people in the past, either.” He pulled the headphones off his ears and handed them back to MK. “Maybe I can win them over. I don’t know what I did to make them mad at me, but I probably shouldn’t be on bad terms with your friends if you’re Wukong’s successor.”

“I mean, yeah,” MK said, hoping he sounded more optimistic than he felt, “maybe we can, uh- we can put in a good word for future you. Present you. Whichever you it is.” He cleared his throat and hopped out of the vehicle. “Come on! I’m sure Mr. Tang is pacing a track in the floor trying to figure out what’s wrong with you.”

Macaque slid out of the passenger seat and followed MK to the door. “Is this Mr. Tang guy familiar with my kind of magic?”

“He’s familiar with some magic,” MK supplied. “He’s still learning. And you’re a little cagey about your, uh… whatever you got going on.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. I don’t even understand my powers half the time.” Macaque’s hand trailed to his chest, like he had something to protect there. “Hopefully, we won’t have to pry at anything to figure this out.”  He grasped the knot of his bandana as MK parted the wooden curtain leading inside.

Everyone was waiting, heads snapping to the door as MK entered. “MK!” Mei gasped, jumping from her chair and grabbing MK by the shoulders. “Are you okay? Where is-”

“Macaque!” Tang, half-hidden by a pile of books, yelped as the shadow slipped in the door behind MK. “He’s here!”

Pigsy’s eyes narrowed. “He didn’t try anything, did he?” He jabbed an accusing ladle in Macaque’s direction. “I better not find out that this is some trick of yours, ‘cause I have a pot of boiling water with your name on it.”

Macaque crossed his arms, looking self-conscious under Pigsy’s scrutinizing stare. “Alright, yeah, I see what you mean,” he told MK. “These guys do not like me. Which,” he lifted his hands placatingly, “I’m sure you all have perfectly good reasons for! So, I’m just gonna sit over here,” he moved to a table in the corner of the shop and pulled out a chair, “and, uh… be very quiet.”

While everyone else in the noodle shop seemed surprised by the complacency, Sandy waved from across the room. “Hello, Mr. Maquack,” he greeted warmly. “I heard you’re having some memory trouble.” He held up a book full of flowers and plants, “I’ve been looking for some cures; I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

The shadow gave a hesitant smile. “Maquack?” he asked.

Sandy shrugged. “You never corrected me.”

“Fair enough,” Macaque replied.

Tang squinted at Macaque, readjusting his glasses. “You know, I had my doubts about Macaque’s amnesia before, but… he’s like an entirely different person.” He pulled a book from his pile and flipped through the pages. “I’m not exactly sure what to do about this.”

“You think this is like the Monkey King’s amnesia thing?” Pigsy asked.

Mei clambered onto a barstool and leaned against the counter. “Uh- question?” she said curiously. “What amnesia thing are you guys talking about?”

“Yeah,” MK agreed. “Just a recap for, you know, anyone that didn’t see what happened.”

“Well, someone woke Monkey King from his transcendental meditation,” Tang said, glaring pointedly at Pigsy, whose only response was a huff and an eyeroll. “We were dealing with a much younger Monkey King for a while, and he seemed convinced that Mo, Pigsy, and I were his friends from the Journey.”

Macaque, from across the room, asked, “What journey?”

“But Macaque doesn’t think we’re anyone else,” Mei pointed out. “He just doesn’t know who we are.”

“And I don’t think he was meditating when I found him,” MK added. “I mean, it looked similar, I guess, but we're still not really sure what happened.”

Pigsy idly stirred his pot of noodles. “Well, it’s still amnesia, ain’t it? Let’s just find a big rock and have MK chuck it at his head. It fixed Monkey King just fine.”

“Sorry,” Macaque interjected. “Did you, uh- did you say that you threw a rock at Wukong? Because I find that both hilarious and mildly concerning.”

Sandy scratched his head in thought. “I’m sure there’s a better solution than that,” he insisted. “Throwing a rock at him seems like such a violent way to solve a medical emergency.”

Tang made an unsure noise. “Are we sure that this is a medical emergency? MK said that Macaque was doing something with his magic. If this is some kind of mystical interference, there might not be a lot of mortal remedies that can help.” He gestured to Macaque. “We don’t even know if Macaque is as indestructible as Monkey King is. Throwing a rock at him might actually make this worse.”

Mei hummed in thought. “Remind me again why we’re not asking Monkey King for help?” She placed her chin in her hand. “I mean, he’d know Macaque better than any of us, right? Maybe Monkey King has seen this before, even if this Macaque doesn’t remember it.”

“Even if this Macaque doesn’t remember anything, Monkey King does,” Tang pointed out. “Would he even be willing to help Macaque?”

“I mean…” MK started reluctantly, “they have been on better terms since the Scroll of Memory.” He fiddled with the zipper of his jacket, dragging it up and down anxiously. Just because Macaque had helped with the Scroll, didn’t mean the shadow and the king were on good terms. Their whole situation was too difficult to navigate. “Monkey King might be willing to help, probably.”

Pigsy raised an eyebrow. “Then why didn’t you call him,” he asked, and the question made MK shrink a little, because Pigsy never asked questions like that unless he already knew the answer. And, the truth was, MK wasn’t sure if Monkey King would help.

There were centuries of distance between Monkey King and Macaque, and MK was certain that the gentle exchange of glances he’d seen in the Scroll was only a mere dent in the walls they’d created around each other. Even with Macaque out of the loop, MK honestly wouldn’t put it past his mentor to heckle the oblivious shadow, anyway, just for the fun of it. And not only would that be incredibly unhelpful, it also wasn’t particularly fair to the memory-impaired Macaque.

“You know I can still hear you guys, right?” Macaque said from across the room, not looking particularly happy about what he was hearing. “I’m not called the Six-Eared Macaque for nothing.”

At that, Tang’s head snapped up, staring Macaque down with an odd look. “Six-Eared Macaque,” he repeated slowly.

Macaque nodded. “Uh… yeah, that’s- is that news to you?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe I should have introduced myself. MK seemed to know who I was, I guess I just assumed his friends would, too.”

“The Six-Eared Macaque?” Tang clarified.

“Well, I assume it’s the Six-Eared Macaque,” the shadow replied, sounding vaguely amused. “Unless that’s somehow become a common name in the last few hundred years.”

That didn’t seem to soothe Tang’s confusion, his brow furrowing as he turned to MK. “Did you know that was his full name this whole time?”

MK shifted nervously. “I mean, yeah, he mentioned it when we first met, but I didn’t think anything of it. He introduced himself as Macaque, so that’s what I called him.”

“That can’t be right, I thought…” Tang grabbed a book, a familiar one, worn with age and use. MK leaned over his shoulder as he flipped through the ‘Journey to the West’. “I didn’t think you were-” He snapped the book shut before MK could get a good look at what chapter he was reading. “How did I not see it before?”

Tilting his head, Macaque asked, “Sorry, what can’t be right? I’m still new here, so-”

“He was part of the Brotherhood,” Tang scolded himself. “The Macaque Spirit King, the Six-Eared Macaque, it’s Macaque, it all seems so obvious now.” He slipped a hand under his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Monkey King has a thousand titles; he’s Sun Wukong, the Monkey King, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, the Protector of Celestial Horses-”

“Oh!” MK interjected, “I asked him about the horse thing one time? He does not like that title, like, at all.”

Pigsy shook his head. “I don’t have the slightest clue what either of you are talking about.”

Mei hummed in agreement, “Join the club.”

“I mean, in my defense, people called Monkey King ‘macaque’ all the time!” Tang continued. “They called him ‘monkey’ and ‘simian’ and,” he turned to Macaque, “you’re a- like, a monkey demon thing, right? I thought ‘Macaque’ was just a name you got… stuck with.”

“Well, I’m- I think I’m technically celestial,” Macaque said. “And I don’t really see what my name has to do with anything.” He squinted at Tang’s copy of the Journey. “And I definitely don’t see what it has to do with that book, that’s… did someone write a book about Wukong? Am I in it?” He smiled, a fond looking thing. “Aw, he’s probably insufferable about that. His very own book.”

MK had been made acutely aware that he should have read the ‘Journey to the West’, Macaque had said as much at least three times in the Scroll. And, in hindsight, it would have been useful to have some information about Monkey King’s old enemies, but never had MK been quite so annoyed with himself for not actually sitting down and reading the Journey cover to cover. Of course, Macaque was in the book. He’d been trying to pry the information out of the two immortals for months, and he could have just read the book.

But he hadn’t, and maybe it was because some part of him didn’t really want to know the extent of the damage Monkey King had caused, or maybe he was afraid some of the enemies he’d fought had real reasons to hate the Great Sage. In any case, MK didn’t like the expression on Tang’s face as he looked at Macaque. “You know what? Maybe I should get Monkey King,” he said quickly. “I can try astral projecting, see if he’ll come to the noodle shop and help us brainstorm. Or I can bring Macaque to him! Maybe he’ll have something in the cave that can help.”

“He has always been a bit of a hoarder,” Macaque mused. “And if he’s been collecting for a thousand years, maybe he does have something.” Confusion creased his brow. “But I thought he was busy.”

Mei snorted. “Busy eating peaches, maybe,” she joked. “It’s his day off. MK had training with you today, so I doubt Monkey King is doing much of anything.”

Macaque glanced at MK, raising an eyebrow, “Mystic Monkey business, huh?”

MK gave a sheepish smile. “Yeah, so…” He ducked away and scurried to the stairs that led up to his apartment. “I’m gonna go call Monkey King! Be back in a minute.” He bolted up to his room, eager to escape Macaque’s prying gaze, shutting the door firmly behind him and slumping against the nearest wall, dragging his hands down his face with an exasperated groan.

As much as MK wanted to avoid a fight between the mystic monkeys, he’d reached a point that he was flailing for answers. And Macaque was behaving himself, if only because he didn’t remember how to be bitter, so if Monkey King was willing to call a truce long enough to help, maybe–just maybe –MK wouldn’t have to deal with them fighting like children.

He sighed and pushed himself off the wall, closing his eyes and summoning the focus to project himself outwards in search of Monkey King. If there was anything optimistic to be found in the ruins of his training session, it was that dealing with his two emotionally incompetent mentors would, at the very least, be a fantastic exercise in patience.

[cherry-flavoured-thot]

Acacia - a hidden relationship

Sharena knows something weird is going on between you and Alfonse, but she can’t quite put her finger on it. As she stands in Anna's office, she can't help but feel the need to voice her pondering.

“Hey Commander, have you noticed how much time Alfonse and Summoner have been spending together lately?” Of course, she could just brush it off as the two of you both throwing yourselves headfirst into work. After recent events, it wouldn’t be strange for you both to be extra diligent in both defense and offense alike. But still… there’s more to it, she just knows it. Based on how Anna’s expression turns from one of contemplation to something downright impish. It’s safe to say, she also has her own suspicions.

“You know, now that you mention it, I did ask Alfonse if there was anything he needed to tell me.” Anna had asked the question as the Commander; it shouldn’t fall to just the two of you take on the problems of several realms. She had asked the question with a great deal of concern and sincerity, only to become perplexed when Alfonse seemed to be at a loss for words. “He started to panic, and I guess at the time I didn’t really think about it, because I just thought he was really stressed.” And in fairness to Anna, he was stressed, going through event after event in his life with little reprieve is in fact quite damaging to the psyche. Alfonse, scrambled through his brain to decide on a response to her. She had followed up with expressing her concerns that he and Summoner might be overworking themselves too greatly.

“And what did he say?” Sharena is leaning forward in anticipation, goading the Commander to continue on with her retelling.

“Well, he assured me that they weren’t overworking themselves and he promised if there was anything I could do to help that he’d ask. And off he went.” In fact, he almost ran out of the room. The two women place their hands on their chins, contemplating the strange behaviour. Sharena is the first to speak, with a cheeky grin.

“Do you think they’re together?” Before Anna even has a chance to share her thoughts, there’s a knock on the door, followed by the door opening. You enter holding against your chest a bundle of papers.

“Hey Anna, hey Sharena, look I just needed-“ neither can contain their looks of suspicion as you close the door behind you. “Why are you both looking at me like that?” You’re perplexed, even more so when Sharena starts to grin.

“You know Summoner you sure have been spending a lot of time with my brother.” There’s no visible reaction from you. Your brows are still furrowed as you try to understand what you’ve wandered into.

“I value his advice and counsel.” Your answer is curt, and almost disappointing from how little it gives away. But the two press on, ever determined.

“So that’s why you spend every chance you get together?” Sharena questions.

“It’s important for us to be on the same page.”

“Even late at night when you’re sneaking into his room?” Anna thinks she’s got you there, as you visibly freeze on the spot. You are quick to rectify this momentary pause by outright brushing off heir accusations.

“Somethings can’t wait until morning. While we sleep our enemies move.” The two almost want to sigh about how little you gave them to work with.  You press the papers you were cradling onto the desk. “Speaking of our enemies, I wanted you both to just give me your opinion on this new training regimen. Alfonse and I have been in talks with some of the more knowledge heroes about…” you’ve dismissed anymore queries from either of them completely, jumping into the conversation about training.

For a moment neither of the two women are sure if it’s intentional to dodge any further questioning, or you really have thrown yourself so deep into your responsibilities that you haven’t even given it a second thought how improper things might appear to others.

Although… you do seem to be more focused more on objects in the room then the inquisitive stare from either of them. And that enough is to continue their suspicions further.

“Alright, thank you both for your time. I’ll let some of the Heroes know we are changing some of their training accordingly.” You’re about to take your leave when you notice Anna’s facial expression change to a smirk.

“And let me guess you’re going straight to Alfonse?”

“If there’s something you need to know you should just ask outright.”

“Come on Summoner are you Alfonse together? Can you please tell us?” Sharena whines, and now it’s your turn to grin at the pair.

“Oh yes, we spend a great deal of time together. It’s the best way to get work done.” The two exchange a look, you use it as an excuse to beeline straight to the door. By the time they object to your sudden exit, you’re practically out the door.

“Hey, wait that doesn’t answer the question!”

“Sorry guys but I really have to go, bye!” The door slams shut, and your footsteps quickly dart down the hall until they disappear. Sharena frowns, throwing her arms up in exasperation.

“There is no way they’re not together. They just don’t want to tell us!” Anna nods. That would explain so much about the sudden strange behaviour, not to mention the strange staring contests between you and Alfonse during the War Council meetings.

“Yeah, I agree. But why haven’t they told us?” The two make verbal noises of contemplation, trying to rack their brains about why you both would be keeping it a secret. Of course, there are very reasonable explanations, but Sharena can’t help but latch on to a particular train of thought the second it appears in her brain.

“Maybe Alfonse is waiting to propose first?” Both are visibly excited at the idea. Sharena, at the thought of you officially becoming part of her family and the never-ending jokes she can make to her brother about him scolding her about not befriending the Heroes as they’d need to go back to their own worlds. Anna can hear dollar signs in her mind as someone is going to need plan the wedding and arrange the venue. Who better than your dear Commander? For a reasonable fee of course!

Meanwhile, as you’re walking away from Anna’s office, you run into Alfonse along the way who was heading to see Anna and Sharena for a different matter. “Unless you’d like to be interrogated about our relationship status I wouldn’t go there right now.” He raises a brow, only to then follow it up with a defeated sigh.

“Are we really that bad at keeping secrets?”

“Anna made a comment about me sneaking into your room late at night.” His cheeks visibly flush at that. He brings a closed fist up to his mouth and lets out a cough to regain some composure.

“Perhaps I’ll speak with them at a later time.”

“Good idea.” You nod continuing in your direction further away from Anna’s office. It doesn’t help the rumours that he instead trails back beside you, his hand hovering over yours begging to be held.

You really are awful at keeping secrets. Given how you don’t even hesitate to take his hand in yours.

[pocketramblr]

I don't know if you're still doing it, but an AU where Gran Torino raises Kotaro.

1- as Shih put it, Sorahiko's an all-or-nothing guy. Nana tells him that Kotaro isn't safe anywhere near her, that she can't handle losing her son to AfO. Sorahiko nods, and asks if he should hide the boy, or go with him. Nana asks him to stay with Kotaro, and cries a lot. Sorahiko holds her, and then goes inside to tell Kotaro that he's going with him, and needs to pack up, and tell his mother goodbye.

2- Kotaro Yamada is raised in a strange way. Sorahiko can't cook any better than his mother could, but he doesn't try anymore. He knows Sorahiko used to be a hero, like his mother, but when he asks all the man tells him is he got his license because he just wanted to use his quirk, and now he keeps it in case whoever is after his mother comes for the boy. And oh, is Kotaro conflicted about his mother- he certainly can't say a bad word about her in Sorahiko's earshot. He knows she loves him, and is likely going to die trying to protect him from something. But he doesn't like it. *Yamada is just a common name, since Sorahiko is sure that AfO would know to look out for any Shimuras or Torinos.

3- When Kotaro is twelve years old, Sorahiko gets a call from a phone number he hasn't in years. He answers it, and there's a young voice on the other side, rough from tears, saying that Shimura-sensei told him to call the number after she died. Sorahiko knows this means Nana needs something else from him- the last thing she needs from him. But he has to help the first way too. So, he sneaks to UA during the day, and trains Toshinori while Kotaro is at school- Toshinori is excused for personal training, for "meetings with the school counselor after losing his teacher", and makes up classwork in the evenings after Sorahiko leaves. Toshinori stays in an altered apartment in one of the fake cities on UA grounds, alone when he isn't training. When Toshinori once tells Sorahiko that Nana was like his mother, Sorahiko asks quietly if Nana ever told him about her son. Toshinori just says she lost him, a bit of sadness in her heart no matter how she smiled or spoke of romantic dreams. Sorahiko tells him (Toshinori) that it's his (Sorahiko's) fault Nana never saw her son again, and that he's going to train Toshinori to make sure he can kill AfO, not the other way around. Which means he needs to leave the country. The last training session the day before graduation is the last time Sorahiko speaks to Toshinori for decades. And it will not be Toshinori reaching out.

4- Kotaro goes to high school, then university. He becomes an architect. He falls in love. He's surprised when Sorahiko is happy to hear this- weren't they both hurt so much by Nana? Isn't that why Sorahiko closed himself off from anyone but Kotaro? But he's encouraged. He marries Nao, builds a house for her and her parents and him and his. Eventually, they have a little girl, Hana. She looks so much like Nana. Sorahiko and Kotaro never say this fact outloud.

5- Eventually, AfO finds Kotaro. Hana is eight, too old for him to spark a quirk awakening in her without suspicion. But with enough eavesdropping quirks he hears that Kotaro and Nao are considering another child, so he starts setting up coincidences to nudge them along the line. When Tenko is born, four years later than in canon btw, AfO moves. Hana sits down at the dinner table, and when she touches her mother's arm, the woman turns to dust. Everyone starts screaming- except Sorahiko, who moves. He grabs Hana and breaks the window to the backyard, leaves Hana floating above the grass in terror, her jacket falling to dust as she hugs herself. Then he goes back, and grabs baby Tenko. He looks up to see Kotaro, covered in Nao's blood, looking to the front door, that also fell apart. A tall man stands behind it, reaching out a hand to the wall. Kotaro looks back at Sorahiko and tells him to go with the kids, now. Sorahiko breaks into Might Tower about half an hour later, with a child and a baby, and tells All Might these are Nana's grandkids, and he needs All Might to arrange tickets to I-island for the three of them, as quickly as he can while keeping it secret. He leaves a report in a file behind them. Toshinori only tells David to protect them, and Dave does. The baby's a year younger than Melissa, he has to help. Over a decade later, he finds that Hana's headaches seem to be from stress for her two quirks, the sort of opposite problem with Toshinori's decreasing power. But maybe he can build something to help- Melissa the engineer and Tenko the programmer are eager to help too, anyway they can. Sorahiko, feeling as useless as he always has, thanks them.

[romanoffsbish]

Roadside Assistance

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Sunshine/Grumpy Prompts

Protective Natty ❤️

“You're definitely the only person I would do this for.”

“Why do you always manage to persuade me with your charms?”

"You're definitely the only person I would do this for.," Natasha grumbles while making her way over to help you, you who'd been stranded on the side of this road for a little over an hour now., "Natasha, we both know that isn't true—you'd help Wanda or Clint out like this too.," the redhead shrugged indifferently at your slight truths. You watched her intently as she settled her tool box down beside your lemon of a car, then your eyes were quick to zone in on her deliciously toned arms as she was removing her leather jacket to place it over your shoulder for safe keeping.

As she smirked at your wandering gaze you were quick to look away to avoid her taunting. Your eyes returned to her as soon as she was sliding beneath your car, and you took the moment alone to shamelessly admire her physique. Her shirt had ridden up to expose her toned abdomen and the sight alone left you wondering if she'd ever give you more than flirty banter and proposed bonds of friendship.

———————

Natasha had always intrigued you, she was a picture perfect example of beauty, and though she could do much better as a famed Avenger she was nothing if not an amazing friend to you. Many times went by where you thought it might be more to her, like when she'd invite you to events as her plus one, but then she'd sneak off with another girl, and you'd wind up hailing a taxi home. She was nothing short of confusing, but it never seemed to curve your want for her. Your sinful thoughts were soon interrupted as she asked you a rhetorical question., "Why do you always manage to persuade me with your charms?"

You chuckled., "Didn't know me crying over the phone was charming Nat, but I'll remember that the next time I need you to help me.," she grunted in lieu of words, and for a few short minutes all that could be heard were her many grunts followed by curses and the sounds of her tinkering with car parts you knew nothing about, and you were just grateful your friend here seemed to know what she was doing.

"Everything alright down there?," you teased, but then your heart dropped when you heard her curse in her mother tongue, she slid out from under your car covered in black smudges while wearing a defeated smile., "Well, I have good news, and then I have bad news.," she relayed exactly what you expected to hear while extending her hand out to you for assistance. You jerked her up off the ground, and she was actually quite impressed with your strength., "Which do you want first detka?," she asked softly, her grease covered hands fell to your waist and you were about to protest for the sake of your shirt, but the touch just felt right.

"Natty, Just rip off the bandaid please.," you grimaced, and she offered you only the softest of smiles, the kind she'd only reserved for you. Soft lips pressed to your forehead for an added layer of comfort as she sadly confirmed your suspicions., "This car is junk Y/N/N, and based on what I can see the jerk who sold it to you off that lot last month had to have known it.," you sighed aggressively, your hot breaths fanning across the redheads skin causing her to shiver., "Would you care for the good news detka?"

Natasha's heart beamed when you leaned into her, laying your head against her chest and wrapping your arms around her waist as you nodded against her, urging her to speak., "Well, I have the kinda pull necessary to get you one of Tony's vehicles free of charge.," Natasha instantly shushed you before you could expectedly protest the generous offer., "On top of that offer I also would like to offer my own services.," you shifted so that you could peer up at her questioningly., "I'll be your personal chauffeur for the next week while Tony gets the car ready for you detka.," she says as if it was always the obvious answer.

"Natty, I can't ask you guys to to do any of that.," you confidently negated her offer, but the shake of her chest beneath your cheek as she chuckled told you she also didn't take you seriously., "You didn't ask, I offered because there's no way my precious girl will be back to taking the Subway through this shady city.," her arms were quick to slip around your back to hold you tightly against her, this need to protect you at all costs consuming her heart.

"Natty, I've lived here my whole life, I can handle the hustle and bustle of the city.," you said over a soft giggle, but all you received were her arms tightening around you., "Yeah, but I'm saying that won't be happening anymore. This city's only gotten more dangerous over time, and you've got a direct tie to me now. You're too important a person to me Y/N/N, far more important than I think you realize."

The vulnerability in her voice threw your mind for a loop, and as you pulled away to look into her eyes you could see they were glazed over., "Oh Natty, what's wrong?," her heart skipped when you immediately moved into comforting her, like it was just the most natural thing for you to do, and so she released a shaky breath in lieu of a response while she built up courage to be honest. Nonstop reminding herself of what Clint said to her as she left his farm last week. That she did deserve the love she knew you had to offer her, and in turn you deserved to know that she had always loved you just the same.

Softly she smiled at you, confusing you more as her lips softly kissed the palms of your hands that were currently cupping her warm cheeks., “Would you believe me if I said nothing?,” you went to reply, but she was too quick., “Because I am actually not sad at all Y/N, I’m thrilled to be able to take care of you. It’s all I want to do, now and for the rest of our life if you’d let me.,” you gasped at the confessional, words you’d all but begged for her to say were finally said, and it all felt like a fever dream, but you knew it was really happening as the cold wind breezed by., “You’re not shitting me right now, right?”

Natasha’s lips fell into a slight frown, but she knew better than to be offended. It truly was a fair question to ask her since she’s been running from your advances from the start., “Y/N, I would never lie to you, so what do you say,hm? Will you let me take you to dinner?,” she looked to you with hopeful eyes, and a bright smile etched her face when you nodded. You squealed when your body was lifted off the ground, Natasha having been overwhelmed by excitement found the urge to spin you around in celebration., “It’s already five, I made us reservations for six-thirty, so we have enough time to get us out of these dirty clothes.”

Natasha smirked when seeing realization flash across your face, she kissed your cheek just before dropping her helmet over your head., “Don’t overthink it detka, just hold on tight, and know that you’re forever safe with me.,” Though she couldn’t see it you smiled under the helmet, happy to know this was always her plan—to help you and make you hers. She guided you to her bike, helping you on, and once your arms laid comfortably over her abdomen she sped off on her motorbike with an unrelenting smile on her face as the crisp wind rushed through her beautiful red hair., “YA tebya lyublyu Y/N.,” she yelled out into the world, smiling when you squeezed her hip three times in what she understood to be your reciprocation., “I’ll protect you forever angel…”

————————————

1,358 Words

❤️ Kaitlyn ☺️

[moonovermeadows]

Cheng Xiaoshi's Death, and LG Time Travel

I think things are starting to make sense to me.

First of all, THIS scene

is NOT after Lu Guang got stabbed. Look at the blood splatters;

This scene is after Cheng Xiaoshi's death. (When he was holding a bleeding and dying CXS in his arms)

Secondly, Lu Guang should most probably have his blue-eyes-past-photo-vison ability+ Cheng Xiaoshi's gold-eyes-photo-diving ability.

S2ep12 basically established that one's ability can be passed over in death. Tianxi's ability got passed over to Qiao Ling, along with her memories (whether temporary or permanent, that I do not know)

CXS was dying in LG's arms, the same way LTX was in QL's arms.

If it is a temporary transfer,that could explain why LG didn't use CXS's ability again,or, if it is permanent then that means LG still has that ability, he's keeping it hidden, and, quite possibly, repeatedly using it in A Time Loop (I genuinely hope not).

That could also explain why LG looked so shocked when CXS mentioned red eyes wanting to "steal" his ability. (Now we know that LTC meant stealing, as in, possessing CXS and using his ability, not literally stealing it. So, LTC might be unaware of this particular aspect. Who knows how much hat man knows)

Thirdly, the time of CXS's death. When did it happen?

I used to think that it was during the time abroad. But, like in the photo above, LG is in his bloodied clothes, in their room in the time photo studio. So, it was recent, and it happened in China itself, probably close to the studio.

The time reads 5 minutes past midnight. The same time is show on the clock hung on their room

Then there's 09, 13. Also a 28. Is 28 the day, September the month, and 13 is 2013 ? 2013 makes no sense. CXS is 21/22 in 2021 (current link click timeline), and LG looks the same as in that year. If it was 2013, then LG should be much, much younger. So, 13 could be the date as much as 28.

But... September 28 ? (We are in September, lol)

Edit : the above have been disproven. I have made another post regarding this :

Also, is it a 28 or 20 ?

Anyway, LG has already changed the timeline once. There are two instances of their meeting.

The scene in Overthink-Vortex music video, could possibly be their original meeting, but they pass themselves by..so, another encounter?

Also, these two are younger here.

The basketball scene (both in high school, probably 16 or so) , and the scene where LG helps in moving the furniture into the photo studio (the coincidence meeting) is most definitely deliberate. LG must have travelled that far, while diving back in time.

Last, I have a sneaking suspicion that the hat man is involved in this whole CXS death, LG lore thing. Also, something definitely happened during the overseas trip.

[painted-bees]

I’m interested in Blood, Lipstick, and Strawberry for everyone! (Especially strawberry after Tess enters their lives)

Raf has no strong feelings either way. He knows he has a nice face and a charismatic personality to go with it. he has a bit of a complicated relationship with all that, but it doesn't occupy a lot of space in his brain--not in any direct manner. He does have a skincare routine that, from Margie's perspective, mostly just looks like part of his shaving routine. But he washes and moisturizes his face in the morning and before bed [and retinol], exfoliates a couple times a week during his showers, and is very particular about his razors, shaving cream, and aftershave products. Raf... really loves maintaining his well established rituals, and skincare is definitely one of them. It gives him a sense of control over his life.

Margie does....uh...none of this. Margie is lucky if she remembers to shower without having to be reminded. She thinks her face is too squat, that her forehead is too high, and that her lips and eyebrows are too thin...also that her eyes are too wide. She gets nervous over her perception that she looks wide-eyed and manic in photos, with her big, broad smile. She used to wear a lot thick, gothy eyeliner and lotsa lip balm on highschool--and then stopped applying makeup completely for years. Nowadays, she'll apply--no--Raf'll appy make-up for live shows and such...and sometimes she'll wear light makeup if she's feeling fancy on a sunny day...but by and large, she's pretty negligent haha

Cortes doesn't have to apply make-up! She can make her face look as dolled up or plain as she wants without external cosmetic supplies..! Also, she's ver content and pleased with her crafted appearance--even if it is kinda a half-assed construction. It does its job!

Raf and Margie are both kinda squeamish, but Raf is a lot more stoic about it. Neither of them are happy to see blood, neither of them want to look at that kind of thing.

I guess the worst either of them have had to deal with in this regard was when Margie sliced herself up real bad on an oyster bed and turned her hands and knees into ground beef for a while. Even after she received her stitches, she couldn't stand to look at them for long. Raf wasn't very comfy with it either, but someone had to keep them clean and dry and well cared for, and Margie couldn't use her hands for much of it--and so he took care of them for her. Squeamishness took the backseat to his desire to make sure she was healthy, clean, and healing up well.

Tess isn't squeamish at all. It's all just meat, and meat is delicious tbh. Nothing gross about any of that.

Margie and Raf are both kind of...Animist lite? agnostic, I suppose, is a good term for it. They understand that there are things beyond their understanding and things there are no answers for, and their spirituality sits in that space unique to each of them. They both perform superstitious rituals of respect to entities they're not fully sure exist in a capacity to appreciate it, and they don't do so consciously most of the time. Raf is more prone to these kinds of things than Margie, though. Margie, at most, will host very one-sided conversations with the wind that shut her bedroom door or such. Raf is prone to leave food and other small offerings out for things...incase those things are hungry. For no reason other than a sneaking suspicion that there is something present who might appreciate the guesture. An impulse on a hunch that he doesn't even really question.

Margie thinks it's very sweet.

Margie has a passive curiosity for things like tarot cards and astrology, but nothing very serious. She'll happily take any manner of good news from these sources, though.

Neither of them were raised by very religious parents. Raf, even less so than Margie. But Raf has had exposure to a lot of other cultural superstitions and such that Margie hadn't been exposed to, and this is perhaps why he takes it just a shade more seriously than she does.

Cortes is acutely aware of what exists and what doesn't. She has never encouraged or deterred the other two from their spiritually motivated mannerisms [or lack thereof].

♡♡♡ yisss thank you for sending these ones!! Q vQ!!!

[kingsmoot]

do you have any miscellaneous thoughts about theon and asha's storylines in winds? (big question i know sorry, you can answer short as you like)

AKH no this is a v neat question and i will confess i have actually not read any of the winds preview chapters :o back in 2013/4 when i read the series for the first time i made the decision not to read them because i didn't want just a taste of the next book i wanted to be patient and wait for the whole thing

that said i actually struggle to envision where their storylines are going tbh!!! theon's arc concluding with saving jeyne and himself and reuniting with asha makes. sense. it is a very narratively satisfying end. what he does beyond this reunion is a mystery to me although i hope he gains some weight back and gets some good dentures and some warm wool and furs and experiences 🎶that feeling of sexual healing that makes him feel so fine 🎶 courtesy of his big sister but that's just my own personal wishlist!!!!!!!!!!!!

i want him to reunite w jon at the wall and i am. genuinely kinda scared that jon will behead him NNNNNOOOOOO JON!!!! this isn't super likely bc i think killing theon after All That™�� would be... idk it would be a very strange narrative beat i think. like grrm is obviously known for killing off characters but i do NOT think he does it nonsensically and i do NOT think he does it for shock value. i think a v clear theme in theon's entire arc post-acok is that he doesn't get to die. he needs to live with who he is, what he did, and what was done to him. he doesn't get an easy out. he needs to carry the pain over onward and through. so i don't see death in the cards for theon. i do think it will be interesting for him to meet jon again, this time both of them as dead men. and i would LIKE!!!!!! for them to reunite with cat. the three undead final remnants of house stark who the old gods refuse to let go of. delicious.

but in general i am extremely bad at predicting anything in asoiaf. like the story just feels too massive to me. i feel like i understand most of it in a way that i feel confident dissecting, but i have never had a sense of "oh i see where this is going" or "i have a good sense of what will happen next". like i've just never been able to sense the shape of it in that way.

PART OF THIS I TRULY FEEL IS BC GEORGE DOESN'T OUTLINE ANYTHING. AND IT'S LIKE WELL YES KING WE CAN TELL.

generally when i get This Into a series i feel like i have a sense of it and can make predictions based on my working knowledge of canon but i've never felt this way w asoiaf. i just feel like i'm along for the ride.

i'm very curious what will happen to asha because i have a sneaking suspicion the show's route of her actually leading house greyjoy might have some semblance of truth in the books... like i don't see vic, euron, and aeron surviving long enough to rule, so i think asha and theon being the only two left (i know theon dies in the show it's fucking stupid and george wouldn't do that) is pretty likely. especially since house greyjoy is already a big worm riddled house of usher situation. and especially since ironborn independence has been a futile suicide mission for generations. so that'll be interesting to see!!! i also wonder if theon might stay on the mainland and take the black. not exactly a CHOICE to take the black but i don't see a version of events where he gets to the wall and jon tells him "no hard feelings" and they hug it out and then theon gets to go home. UNLIKELY. HE KILLED AND RAPED A WHOLE BUNCH OF PEOPLE. TWO OF THEM CHILDREN.

so this answer is a whole bunch of nothing i'm sorry!!! i generally think that theon making it to stannis' convoy to reunite w asha will be a brief respite and not a permanent one and i do not see them ending the series together (here not implying romantically just like in proximity to one another). if they do make it back to winterfell and overwhelm the occupying bolton force i hope they find a bed 😎👉👉 and that theon has a panic attack and asha is like jesus christ i should've bought a dog off craiglist instead of picking one off the kill list at the local shelter this is too much work 😒

SORRY GOT DISTRACTED AGAIN ok i see asha making her way back to the iron islands and i see theon taking the black. what will happen between those things is a bif fat question mark for me but i hope at least some of it is lewd ✌️

[ameri-blog]

Eres Mía

Disclaimer: I dont have an excuse for poor grammar and spelling besides the fact that i slept in almost every spelling/writing class since i was in 4th grade up until i graduated. I also don’t double check my writing after im done. And this song has like no big impact on the story, its just that i was listening to this as i wrote.

You felt so guilty for the way you texted your ex, Miguel O’ Hara. You wanted him for lustful reasons but you had a boyfriend that you truly loved, or not, you weren’t quite sure if you were in denial about being in love with Miguel or you were just bored that you subconsciously decided to gaslight yourself into liking him? Either way, you did feel some way towards him and your current boyfriend figured it out when he went through your phone…

“Listen, You shouldn’t have even went through my phone in the first place! Dónde está la confianza en la pinche relación?!” You yelled at your current boyfriend who had your phone in his hand. You weren’t mad that he went through your phone, you were mad that you got caught and were ashamed and embarrassed.

“Oh shut your trap, Y/n. I had suspicions so I had every damn right to go through it! And quit with your Spanish shit talking. You know more than anyone that I can’t understand shit you say!” Your boyfriend yelled back as he put your phone in his pocket as he stood a bit far from you. You guys had been yelling at each-other non-stop for a few minutes so things were getting heated.

“Be quiet, I can talk how ever i want! Just give me back my phone! We both know how this ends, you give it back, you get salty and leave for a few days before coming back to me again!” You were right, you guys always argued about whatever and he left for days on end and while he did, you and Miguel always did something that you both didn’t regret, unless you got caught.

“Oh, fuck you! Have your phone back you skank! Maybe your ex will dick you down again and make you forget about me like always. Im leaving.” Your boyfriend said as he threw your phone towards the carpet underneath and grabbed his jacket, keys and left your house in a rush. You were a bit upset but that quickly died down as soon as you grabbed your phone from the floor.

You opened it up and decided to do what you do best, talk to your favorite ex. You start texting Miguel hoping he would answer.

*messages start here*

You: Miguellll, guess what happened? 😓

Miguel 😘♥️: your boyfriend left again?

You: mhm, for such a dumb reason too. He is just so insecure, he thinks im going to leave him for you! All you and me do is fuck…

Miguel 😘♥️: aw, pero corazón, pensé que si lo harías? Last time we had sex, i could’ve sworn that in between all those whines and moans, you were questioning why we ever broke up and you even said you might consider dating me again?

You: jaja, que gracioso. This is serious, he might actually leave me this time. If he does, im never going to find anyone that will love me as much as he did~! Me voy a morirrrrr ☹️💔

Miguel 😘♥️: okay, from what I understand, your actual boyfriend caught you talking to me and he figured out we were fuck buddies and he got mad at you and left and you’re upset because you got caught?

You: yeah

Miguel 😘♥️: I only call you a whore in bed but it looks like you really are…

You: only yours~!

Miguel 😘♥️: mhm, toda mía, sólo para que yo te use. Don’t be surprised if one day I sneak into your house and make you fully mine again infront of your boyfriend.

You: you sure im only yours? I could be having other guys’ dicks inside me for all you know 🤫

Miguel 😘♥️: no creo, corazón. Ningún hombre te puede joder de la manera que yo lo hago, correcto?

You: cállate, pendejo. 😒

Miguel 😘♥️: I love you too. Im just saying that your boyfriend surely wouldn’t mind seeing his slutty girlfriend getting fucked in every position by spiderman himself.

You: as much as i want that, no!

Miguel 😘♥️: Aw coño, que triste. Maybe I can fuck you so hard that you finally get back with me again and become allll mine again.

You: Miguel, we agreed that we wouldn’t get back together because we broke up for a reason. All though, it doesn’t sound like a bad idea, you can always try~

Miguel 😘♥️: thats right, you know that im irreplaceable and that you’re all mine. Why don’t I come over now and give you a reason to get back with me?

You: pinche perro 🙄 you can try to prove it to me but it won’t work!

Miguel 😘♥️: sure, It wont work.

*messages end here*

After that conversation, you knew the answer to your question, you definitely wanted each other back, not only is the sex great but you can definitely see yourself dating him again. Hes so much more better than your current boyfriend. What ever made you think that you could replace Miguel, needs to leave your head right now.

Author’s note: guys this is so OOC for Miguel and ik bcs I have only ever seen the only version of Miguel which is movie miguel where he tweakin hella hard over a 15 yr old so i really have no idea how he would be as a romantic partner.

[phantom-of-the-501st]

Episode 14 Thoughts

Spoilers for TBB Season 2

AAAAHHHHHH OKAY OKAY I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS AAAAAAHHHHH

It's grey. Why does everything have to be grey? Grey never means anything good.

HOWZER?!

Well that answers one of my questions. Howzer was, in fact, able to keep his hair in great condition while being held captive. Good to know.

BUT HOWZER'S BACK AAAAHHHH

I was honestly like "oh no, Lt. Fuckface is back 🙄" and then remembered that he was dead and that this was some other pasty imperial to hate...

Incoming attack? From Echo maybe???

IT'S ECHO!!!

HE HAS RETURNED AAAAAHHHHH I MISSED HIM SO MUCH!!!

WITH GREGOR!!!

2 new clones, Fireball and Nemec. Ngl, thought they were both gonna die. 😬 Thankfully not!

Oh great, even Mt Tantiss is all grey and gloomy...

This is just a grey, gloomy episode.

ECHO AND CROSSHAIR IN THE SAME EPISODE??? LET'S GO!!!

Hemlock gives me the heebie jeebies. 😖

LEAVE HIM ALONE YOU DICK

Crosshair convulsing in the back of the shot is horrifying. 😭

Echo without a kama feels very weird...

BUT LOOK AT HIS BOOTS!

FUCK YEAH, CROSSHAIR!!!

I have a sneaking suspicion that this isn't actually going to work out...

You can tell he's out of it. Some of his shots miss.

HE'S SENDING A WARNING MESSAGE TO THE BATCH HELP

If you need me, I'll be sobbing in the corner. 😭

Cross... 😭😭😭

Of course Hemlock is immune to his own poison. That's exactly something to expect from a heebie jeebie man.

AND THE BATCH?! I thought they might just turn up right at the end.

Man, we are doing so well for characters this episode. 🥲

What is that thing Wrecker caught???

Wrecker calling Lyana boss. 😭

Hunter still feeling a little iffy about settling down permanently. Interesting but not surprising. 🤔

TECH GIVING OMEGA FLYING LESSONS 😆

He looks so terrified. 🤣

TECH TURN! TECH TURN!

Omega sounding so excited when she says "It's him". Bestie, same. 😭

Echo offering to race Omega back just confirms that Echo is actually a chaotic little shit and I love him for that. 🥰

Echo, mate, you look kinda naked without the kama. I don't know how to feel about it.😭

THE HUG THE HUG THE HUG AAAAHHH MY HEART 😭🥰

Ooooohh are they gonna find out about Cross from the data stick?

Hunter and Echo still not quite on the same page. 🤔

SORRY BUT WHY DOES ECHO ALWAYS LOOK SO SMALL NEXT TO HUNTER??? DID HUNTER CUT THE BOTTOM OF ECHO'S LEGS OFF LIKE WHAT IS THIS???

"When will it be enough?"

Ugh, that hurt. I love what Echo's doing but I am stressed for his life constantly. I'm really worried that something is going to happen to him and that's why Rex is gonna give up the fight. 😭

I don't necessarily think that something will happen to him this season though...

THEY KNOW THE EMPIRE HAVE CROSSHAIR 😭

They got the distress message. 🥲

Okay, I know that them not completely trusting Crosshair's warning is justified but OUCH it hurts to know that he's trying to help them and they don't know if they can believe him. 😭

JUST LEAVE THE POOR MAN ALONE! STOP IT!!! 😭

THAT'S THE END?! NOOOOOO

Oh no... we only have the finale left...

Aaaahhhhh so much happened this episode!

We got Echo back! (No Rex though ☹️). But also Crosshair, and the Batch AND HOWZER AND GREGOR!!! 🥰 Was hoping we would see Wolffe at some point but he could still turn up in the finale. 🤔

Jennifer wasn't kidding about this being a rollercoaster of emotions. I was just swinging back and forth between happiness and pure stress.

And Crosshair was trying to help his brothers. 😭 He still cares about them and now they want to get him back but they don't know if they can trust him and it's all too many feelings my heart can't take it-

I loved this episode. I think Eps 3, 8 and 12 still top it for me, but I was freaking out a lot. I hope Echo continues to have a significant part in the final 2 episodes and I hope that we see Rex again. Also, where's Cody at rn?

Anyway, I hope we get a Batch reunion next week!!!

I'm gonna go and continue to freak out. Hopefully I can focus on Mando this week after all that. 😵‍💫