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lifeofkaze · 4 years ago

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Fields of Gold

Neville Longbottom x Reader

A/N: Emoji ask game round 2 and you picked 🌾 @nevilles-top. Enjoy, my lovely wifey! Fluffier than I thought it would be, but you know… balance and stuff. 🤷‍♀️

Warning: NSFW, 18+ only, oral f receiving, fingering, unprotected sex (be responsible, lovelies!)

EVERYONE IN THIS STORY IS OF LEGAL AGE AND CONSENTING

Word Count: ~ 3.000 (oops)

Your head was spinning from exhaustion. You couldn’t remember how long you had been staring at the documents sprawled out on your desk, trying to force your tired mind to make sense of the words. The project you had been working on for the better part of the week had to be done by Monday and no matter how tempting the sunlight streaming into your workspace from the open windows was, it was no use; you needed to get this done.

Blocking out the sweet chirping of the birds outside in your garden, you were doing your best to concentrate on your work, but found your thoughts straying time and time again to the beautiful summer day outside. There was nothing more you wanted than lounging in the sun, a cool glass of wine in hand.

You were so caught up in your fantasies about white wine so cold it made the glass condensate, that you didn’t notice the door to your office opening. As a result, your heart almost stopped and you jumped in shock as the strong arms of your boyfriend snaked around you from behind.

“Still at work, dear?” Neville muttered into your ear, his nose nuzzling the crook of your neck.

Breathing deeply to calm your shaking hands, you turned around in your chair to give him a mock reprimanding look. “Are you mad scaring me like that?” you asked sternly, the smile on your face betraying your serious tone, however.

Neville just grinned wickedly and looked over your shoulder at the paperwork in front of you. “Doesn’t seem like you made a lot of progress since the last time I checked,” he mused.

“I’m in a bit of a rut,” you admitted.

Neville hummed in response and pulled you off your chair. “You need a break, love, and I know just the thing for you.” He leaned in to kiss you, but you stopped him by putting a hand on his firm chest underneath his white shirt.

“Tempting, but I really need to get this done,” you sighed wistfully.

The pout Neville put on display was enough to weaken any resolve you had and he knew it. “Trust me, you’re going to like what I have in store for you,” he beamed and suddenly you weren’t so sure you had guessed his intentions correctly.

He pulled you away from your desk and tossed you a light sundress he had held hidden behind his back. “Time to change into something comfortable, daisy. We’re going out.”

“Nev, where are we going?” you asked for what felt the hundredth time.

After you had changed, Neville had apparated you to the edge of the forest a few miles from where you lived and you had been wandering under the canopy of the trees for some time now. The path in front of you was speckled with the sun breaking through the leaves and the air smelled deliciously of warm earth and wood.

But the curiosity was eating you up from the inside, giving a slight bounce to your step that you couldn’t quite hide. The satisfied smirk of Neville, who was walking beside you calm as ever, drove you insane.

“Not much further, love, you’ll see,” he reassured you as he adjusted the giant wicker basket he was carrying in the crook of his arm.

Putting his words into action, he suddenly diverted from the trail you had been following, stepping into the thicket and vanishing from sight. With a sceptically raised eyebrow, you went after him, careful not to rip your dress on the protruding twigs and branches.

You already had a complaint on your lips when the scrub suddenly cleared and you found yourself at the edge of the forest. The sight before you took your breath away.

The ground before you fell in a gentle slope to form a shallow natural valley. At the bottom of it was a gigantic wheat field, the ripe, yellow ears swaying gently in the breeze. It seemed to go on endlessly, forming a sea of gold under the deep blue sky.

“Do you like the spot?” Neville asked apprehensively at your silence, but you were to busy taking in the beauty of the place. Flashing him a radiant smile, you grabbed his hand and pulled him along beside you to the edge of the field, your excited laughter ringing in the hazy air.

Poppies and cornflowers were blooming between the wheat plants; Neville bent down, picked a poppy flower and tucked the vibrant red petal behind your ear, planting a quick kiss on your lips in the process.

“Time for a snack,” he grinned at you, making your body tingle with excitement at the prospect.

But once, again, you had apparently misjudged him. Neville turned from you and set down his basket; with a flick of his wand, it opened and a red-and-white chequered picnic blanket, an assortment of fresh fruit and a silver bucket containing a huge, deep green bottle of champagne assembled themselves in front of you.

With another wave, the bucket filled itself with sparkling ice cubes and two crystal flutes appeared in Neville’s hands. He bowed teasingly to you, beckoning to sit down on the blanket; you complied all too willingly.

“I told you, you need a break,” he smiled as he pulled you in for another sweet kiss. “I found this place while I was herb gathering; I’ve been dying to show it to you for the whole of last week.”

He just knew you like no one else did; perhaps even better than yourself. As you enjoyed your picnic with your favourite guy, you felt all of the tension the stressful week had brought with it fall from your shoulders.

The fruit Neville had brought was deliciously sweet and although it wasn’t the wine you had fantasised about earlier, the cold champagne tasted even better, cooling your throat with the gentle tingling of its bubbles.

With the sun burning down on you and your head wonderfully light from the alcohol, you lay on your back and sighed contentedly. You felt a drowsiness wash over you and closed your eyes.

Before you could drift off, however, Neville gently nudged you. You opened one eye again and saw him waving your almost empty glass at you.

“Be a good girl and drink up first, will you?” he laughed.

You propped yourself up onto your elbows and quickly emptied the contents of the delicate flute inside your mouth. You had underestimated the amount of champagne still left however, and quite a few drops of it flowed from the corners of your mouth. They slowly trickled down your chin and finally fell onto the exposed skin of your chest.

You giggled at your clumsiness, but the laughter died in your throat as you became aware of Neville’s changed expression. His gaze had followed the way of the droplets, his usually bright green eyes suddenly dark with desire.

All your weariness instantly forgotten at his salacious gaze, you turned on your side, angling your legs in just the right way to accentuate your curves. Your eyes never leaving his, you brought a hand to your chest, slowly dragging the still lingering drops of champagne across your skin in a deliberate motion.

“Oh dear,” you cooed while innocently fluttering your dark eyelashes at him, “look at the mess I made. If only I had something to clean it up.”

Your teasing whine was enough for Neville. Within the blink of an eye he was on top of you, pushing you down on your back and sealing your lips with a searing kiss. His tongue brushed over your lips but to his surprise, you denied him the entrance he wanted.

He broke away from you for a second and it was all you could do not to moan at the lost contact of your lips. But you had something else in mind.

“Wrong place, lover boy,” you purred over the pounding of your heart. “Try again.”

Neville’s swollen lips curled into a wicked smile. You could feel the heat spread from your chest into the rest of your body as he assessed your face with a wild expression in his usually calm and loving eyes; it made you yearn for his touch even more.

“Very well,” he whispered with a gravelly voice that sent a set of shivers down your spine, “you asked for this.”

You fully expected him to kiss you again, maybe trail down over your neck to find the hot skin between your breasts, but Neville did nothing of the sort. Instead, he ran his thump of the wet trail glistening on your chest with a slight pressure, prompting you to arch your back in his direction.

Ignoring your begging, he licked the champagne of his finger, all the while looking directly on your eyes. He looked so forbiddingly sinful, it made you want to scream.

He grabbed your wrists and pulled you up to get you out of the flimsy dress that was clinging to your skin by now. After he had rid himself of his shirt as well, he pushed you back to the ground, not too gently, but still making sure you didn’t hurt yourself.

He bent over to whisper in your ear, his hot breath ghosting over the sensitive spot behind your earlobe. “You think you can tease me, doll? I’ll show you who does the teasing around here.”

Your mouth went dry at his promise and you bit your lip in anticipation of what was to come.

“Close your eyes,” Neville instructed you. You did as you were told, every nerve in your body alert to the maximum. You gave a little jump as you suddenly felt his lips on your bare stomach, just above your bellybutton.

The touch was gone as quickly as it had appeared; you moaned in frustration but still kept your eyes closed, only to be rewarded with another surprising kiss at the base of your breasts. Another moan escaped your lips as Neville’s tongue traced the outlines of your chest, giving each of your erect nipples a teasing flick before disappearing from your body yet again.

You were burning with the need for his touch by now, but Neville took his time. When you didn’t feel his lips anywhere for longer that what you had expected, you started to fidget around, only to be met with a deep chuckle right beside your face.

“Is my girl growing impatient, huh?”

“Please, Nev, touch me,” you mewled, pressing your thighs together to create the friction you so desperately craved.

He gently pulled your legs apart again, however. “Just wait, darling.”

You groaned in frustration as his hands left your body altogether now. Your eyes were still closed, so you couldn’t hear what Neville was doing, but you heard a metallic clank and a rustle of some sort.

Before your mind could place the sounds, Neville came back to you. You could literally see the dirty grin on his face in front of your inner eye, as he kissed your jawline. His breath trailed down over your neck to your collarbone, where he placed another kiss; he continued that way downwards, his breath ghosting over your skin, only the occasional kiss on the places he knew you were especially sensitive at.

You sighed in relief as you felt his teeth pulling on the fabric of your positively soaked panties, eagerly lifting your hips up to let him pull them off you.

He placed lingering kiss on the inside of your thigh and you wiggled in anticipation of his skilled tongue where you needed it most. But instead, an audible gasp escaped you, as something smooth and almost painfully cold glided over the same spot Neville had just kissed.

Now you knew what the sounds from earlier had been; Neville had equipped himself with some of the ice cubes from the champagne bucket.

“You like that, doll?” he muttered against your thigh, the stubble on his cheeks deliciously scratching the sensitive skin.

The only thing you could manage was a feeble nod and another whimper that quickly turned into a breathy moan as you finally felt the tip of Neville’s tongue on your aching clit.

Good God, this man knew what he was doing; you buried one hand in his hair while the other went to your own head in the desperate need to hold onto something as Neville kitten licked your dripping folds up and down.

The coiled tension in your stomach quickly built up as he continued to lap at you, while he ran another ice cube down the insides of your thighs with the other. The mixture of the heat under your skin and the icy droplets running down your sensitive flesh were enough to drive you insane.

When the ice had melted away, your head started spinning as Neville shifted his head slightly and plunged two of his fingers into you, pumping in and out of you at a steady rhythm that made your hips buck against him. You put one of your feet onto his shoulders to give him better access and had to stifle a cry as he hooked his fingers upward to massage your sweet spot.

It didn’t take long for the knot inside you to burst into a wave of pleasure that took your breath away. Your legs were shaking against Neville’s touch as you relished the high he gave you. You covered your eyes with your hand as stars erupted behind your closed eyelids, painted red from the sun burning down on you.

As you slowly opened them again, you were met with a self-satisfied grin on Neville’s face. His chin was glistening and he casually wiped the traces of you off it with the back of hand; his gaze on you was positively scorching.

“You don’t think we’re done here, do you, flower?” he growled, as he quickly rid himself of the little clothing he had left on his body. “You look way too delicious, being totally wrecked like that by me.”

The combination of his authoritative voice and the hard cock in his hand was enough to replace any drowsiness you felt from your orgasm with the urgent desire to have him filling you up right here and now.

Still sensitive from your last high, you shuddered at the sweet pain as Neville leaned over you, teasingly circling your entrance with the tip of his cock.

“Are you ready for me, doll? Want to make me feel good?”

You wrapped your legs around him and pulled him closer for an answer; you were too breathless for any coherent words anyway.

A groan escaped Neville’s lips and his eyes fluttered close for a moment as he entered you and waited for you to adjust to him.

He started slowly rocking into you, his broad back blocking out the blinding rays of the sun. You quickly found a rhythm that suited you both; it wasn’t as fast and relentless as usual, rather slow and deliberate, but every thrust of Neville’s hips was strong and deep, shaking you to the core.

Your senses were reduced to your laboured breaths, only mixed with moans of pleasure and the feeling of his heated skin under your fingers as you dug your nails into his bare shoulders for support. The world around you started spinning as you felt your next high approach, a whirl of colours of golden wheat and blue sky.

It wouldn’t take you much longer to cum a second time and you clung your legs tighter around Neville, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Without another warning, the coil inside you snapped, flooding you with sweet agony as you trembled in his arms. You weren’t able to form any thoughts anymore, the only thing falling from your lips was Neville’s name over and over again.

The desperate sounds you made and the sensation of your muscles tightening around his cock proved to be too much for Neville as well. With a deep growl, he gripped your arm so hard it almost hurt as his own orgasm shook him; you felt his hips buck against yours as he rode out his high to the maximum.

When your eyes met again, the fire that darkened them before had died down and was replaced by a look of pure adoration and love.

Neither of you spoke for a moment; the way Neville’s lips lingered on yours as he bent down to kiss you lovingly spoke for itself.

He got off you after yet another gentle kiss, falling on his back with an exhausted but content sigh. You snuggled up to him, relishing in the feeling of ultimate closeness you shared.

The two of you lay there for a long time, watching the clouds float in the sky above you until it started turning red, the light of the setting sun igniting the sky into an explosion of orange, pink and red above the golden fields surrounding you.

You were on the verge of falling asleep in Neville’s arm when a sudden thought hit you; you jerked upright. “I got it!” you exclaimed in excitement while Neville raised a wondering eyebrow at you, “I finally know how to finish my project!”

The low chuckle he gave you as he pulled you down to him again filled you with the same explosion of butterflies that had never quite left you ever since you had met him.

“That’s good to hear,” he murmured against your hair. “I knew you just needed a proper break.”

#neville longbottom smut

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handsoffmyfriends · 5 years ago

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Breaking Expectations

— when you transfer into the hero course for your second year, you have a lot of expectations regarding your soon-to-be classmates. of all the people to not meet your expectations, bakugou katsuki ranks number one, but you find that you aren’t disappointed in the slightest

PARING: bakugou katsuki x reader WORD COUNT: 1,852 WARNINGS: bakugou swears like the bakuhoe he is

A/N: my first one shot 🥺🥺 i really wanted to write something cute and fluffy and angst free for once, i hope i did okay!! warming myself up for opening up requests !

Part 2

You weren’t sure what you expected when you transferred into the hero course, but somehow befriending the hot-headed Bakugou Katsuki hadn’t even been within the realm of possibilities. You respected his undeniable power, but his personality left much to be desired. You, like the rest of the school outside of the hero course, believed he was nothing more than a feral child with a superiority complex. All you had ever heard about him was how angry he was and how poorly he treated everyone around him. Hell, the guy called his best friend “shitty hair” for crying out loud. It left you feeling not as excited as you should have been when you found out you were transferring into Class 2-A.

Your first interaction with the angry boy left you wondering just how much of the rumours you’d heard had been just that; rumours. You thought for sure he was going to yell at you when you’d been thrown into him during hero training, but he’d simply helped you steady your footing and told you to be more careful. His tone always held a note of anger, you’d found, but the way he helped you and proceeded to back you up during the exercise left you feeling like you’d completely misjudged him.

You couldn’t shake the guilt at how poorly you’d originally viewed him, so you approached him later that day in the dorms. Thankfully, he was by himself, sitting on the sofa scrolling through his social media. You weren’t sure how you’d have spoken to him if other people were around.

Still, you weren’t sure how to start the conversation. He very clearly didn’t want to be disturbed, but he was out in the communal living space, so surely he expected to be disturbed? You stood there like an idiot for several long seconds, agonising over how to begin, but once again, he surprised you.

“Don’t stand there all day,” he growled out, flicking his crimson eyes up at you. “Couches are free real estate. Don’t need my permission to sit your ass down.” He returned his attention back to his phone.

You stiffened slightly at his bluntness. Again, you hadn’t known what to expect, but that certainly wasn’t it. “Ah, that’s not what I came over here for.”

He looked back up at you, this time putting his phone aside and giving you his entire attention. “If it’s about before, don’t worry about it. Everyone does dumb shit during the exercises. Dunce Face does something stupid every fucking time.”

You frowned in confusion before realising he meant Kaminari. You shook your head, finding your voice. “Ah, it’s not quite that either, though I am very sorry about getting in your way. It was a lot more intense than I thought it was going to be.”

Bakugou shrugged with indifference. “You did alright to me. Better than that grape fucker we had last year.”

You dug through your brain to figure out who he could have possibly meant before noticing you were getting distracted. “It’s— I mean... I came over to apologise to you! For misjudging you!” You blurted your thoughts out before they got lost on the way to your mouth. It came out a lot less eloquently than you intended. At his furrowed eyebrows, you tried to save face and explain yourself. “I just... I needed to apologise. You aren’t at all how I thought you would be.”

His expression darkened. “Let me guess, you thought I’d be some kind of villain in the making? Some asshole that would stomp you into the ground without a second thought?”

You didn’t respond, but it was answer enough for him.

He sighed deeply, releasing his frustrations. “Look, that shit was probably true a year ago. I get why you’d think that.” He pulled his phone back out, returning his attention back to it. “People change, believe it or not. But, thanks... for being upfront, I guess.”

You weren’t sure how you felt about the conclusion to the conversation, but it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You didn’t feel right just walking away after that either, so you took a seat on the couch, a comfortable distance away from him, and pulled out your own phone to browse your social media.

You looked back up at him sharply when you noticed the new friend request notification pop up. The Bakugou Katsuki had just sent you a friend request. He seemed entirely unaware of you staring at him in disbelief, despite having just sent you the request. He continued to scroll through his phone, very pointedly not looking up at you.

You decided not to make a big deal out of it, since he wasn’t either.

Bakugou continued to surprise you as the weeks and months went by. Sure, he was as angry as you had been led to believe, but it wasn’t a personal anger that you had assumed. He was just a shouty kind of guy. He called all his friends insulting nicknames, but they were said with a strange kind of fondness, like insults were the only way he could allow himself to show affection. He even had one for you, and if anyone else had called you that, you would have been really offended. Coming from Bakugou, it was strangely nice.

You found yourself hanging out with him more and more. Not through any intentional planning, but the two of you just ended up in the same places at the same times. He was almost always accompanied by Kirishima, who was always overly happy to see you, almost like he was making up for Bakugou’s lack of enthusiasm. You didn’t mind the extra company, though you found you liked your alone time with Bakugou even more.

Sometimes, it was just studying together. Sometimes, you both didn’t say a word, simply enjoying each other’s company. When you did talk, it was comfortable. Bakugou wasn’t a big talker, but you could tell he really trusted you when he did talk to you about more serious topics than the weather. You treasured those moments.

“Hey, Y/N! We’ve been looking for you!” Kirishima called out, pulling you from your book.

“Oh, Kirishima, Bakugou,” you greeted pleasantly, giving up on studying. You probably shouldn’t be studying in the communal area anyway. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Kirishima grinned impossibly wide, showing off his famously sharp teeth. “Bakubro here wanted you to join us for squad movie night.”

Without hesitation, Bakugou threw a punch at Kirishima, right in the face. The red-head had apparently been expecting it, since he’d hardened up instantly and was left entirely unaffected by the slug. “Shut the hell up, shitty hair, you make it sound so fucking creepy!”

You laughed at their bickering, finding it endearing. How you had ever thought Bakugou was an asshole to his friends was beyond you. The words themselves were harsh, but the emotions behind them spelled out an entirely different meaning. He was embarrassed.

You decided it was too good an opportunity to pass up. “Squad movie night, huh? I didn’t know I was part of a squad.”

Kirishima threw an arm around Bakugou. “I’ll add you to the group chat! But, you gotta come for movie night first! It’s like, initiation.”

You giggled. “Alright, alright. I need a break anyway.”

That’s how you found yourself curled up on the couch, pressed up against the arm of the three seater. It seemed squad movie night was an accepted practise in the dorm, since no one other than Bakugou’s friends were present despite being hosted in the communal area.

Mina had picked the movie, which was surprisingly an action packed thriller, not a rom-com that you’d have expected from her. It suited you just fine, since you weren’t exactly in the mood for a rom-com.

You’d sat down first, since you weren’t sure who did what when it came to movie time. Kaminari handed around little bowls full of snacks for everyone, while Sero and Kirishima pulled out a plethora of comforters, blankets and pillows, passing them around to everyone. You suspected they were from everyone’s rooms and you suddenly felt lacking since you hadn’t brought your own. This certainly wasn’t what you’d expected to come along to.

You continued to be surprised when Bakugou took a seat next to you and threw his comforter over you. “Bring your own next time,” he growled at you, adding on your insulting nickname.

You figured Kirishima would sit next to Bakugou, but he just sat down on the other couch with Sero. Mina had created a nest on the floor, pillows and blankets piled into an impossibly comfortable mound of plush. She practically disappeared into it when she laid down in it.

You found it hard to concentrate on the movie with Bakugou so close to you. You were surrounded by his smell, burnt sugar and smoke, a combination that you would have thought to be repulsive. Instead, it wrapped you up and made you feel nice and warm. Although, that probably had to do with the fact that Bakugou was so close to you that you could feel his body heat. The sudden realisation had you barely able to breathe.

Why did you suddenly feel so weird? No one else made you feel like your heart was in your throat, so why did Bakugou?

You think your heart completely stopped when Bakugou very casually threw an arm behind you. Well, behind the couch was more accurate, but it was still behind you and when your heart came back online, it was working double time.

“Fuckin’ relax,” he murmured, eyes never leaving the screen. When you didn’t relax quick enough for his liking, he turned his crimson gaze onto you, those red eyes boring in your own. “I can move if you’re that fuckin’ uncomfortable.” He probably meant to come off blasé, but you could hear the underlying hurt in his voice.

You shook your head very quickly when you realised he wasn’t just being casual about getting comfortable, but making a silent move to get closer to you. You didn’t speak, not trusting yourself to talk. You’d probably say something really stupid and really loudly. Instead, you forced yourself to relax, shifting around a little to get more comfortable. Bakugou hummed in satisfaction.

You weren’t sure when you were snuggled into Bakugou’s side instead of the arm of the couch, and you weren’t sure when he pulled his arm from behind the couch to be wrapped around you, but you found that you were way too comfortable to care.

You felt so warm and safe that you didn’t even notice that you were dozing off until you were being gently woken up. The room was dark, the movie very clearly over, and the rest of the squad were long gone. Bakugou gently jostled you awake, a strangely soft expression adorning his features. You’d never seen it before, but you decided then and there, in your sleepy stupor, that you wanted to see it as much as you could.

#bnha #mha #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki #bakugou #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo

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dfcfanfics · 3 years ago

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Truth and Consequences Miraculous Prompt of the Day

The after-school conversation on the steps of Collège Françoise Dupont was lively, with a small circle forming around Marinette and Chloé. Something Marinette had said in class had raised Chloé's ire, and now everything seemed to be coming to a head.

"Seriously, Chloé," Marinette sighed. "You can't just let this go?"

"You always think that you can comment on what I say and do. That you can judge me," Chloé snarled. "You think you're better than me."

"In some ways? Yes," snapped Marinette. "When you're acting petty like this, it's not difficult."

"Sure, laugh it up, Dupain-Cheng. Laugh it up, because I know how this competition ends."

"Who said that we're competing, Chloé?" Marinette exclaimed. "That's the part I never understand. Why do you think everything between us has to have a winner?"

"That's how life is. And it won't be you winning," Chloé sneered. "You're not going to have a better life. You're not going to have the career you think you will. And you're certainly never going to win Adrien's heart."

"Keep his name out of your mouth," hissed Marinette.

"Why?" smirked Chloé. "Everyone here knows about your little crush. We all know that you're in looooove with Adrien, and that you'll never have the guts to tell him yourself."

"Wait, what?"

A familiar voice behind her made Marinette turn very, very pale.

"Well, what do you know? I guess everyone here knew except for one," Chloé cackled.

"Chloé... you're wrong. Marinette doesn't think of me that way," Adrien interjected, moving shoulder-to-shoulder with Marinette. She felt as if he might sweep her behind him to protect her, if he felt she was threatened... but she felt anything but safe in the moment.

Chloé's response was a peal of laughter.

"She's one of my best friends. She's certainly been a better friend to me than you have lately, Chloé," he added.

Her wince indicated that his barb struck home.

"You just don't get it," Chloé frowned. "You think she's being friendly! All she wants to do is to get into your pants."

"You're kidding, right?" exclaimed Adrien.

"Adrien... don't do this like this..." mumbled Marinette.

"Ask her! Ask her to her face, right now. Just look at how she's looking at you," demanded Chloé. "She couldn't deny it if she tried."

Marinette stared at Chloé with fire in her eyes. I will END you for this, Chloé Bourgeois, her mind blazed. See if I don't.

But when Adrien turned to her, his own eyes kindly and earnest, her will snapped neatly in half.

"Tell her," Adrien prompted her. "You've told me twice that you don't think of me romantically, right? All you have to do is... tell Chloé that... right now?"

She couldn't say a word. She didn't have to. A year's worth of yearnings, daydreams, evasions and terrors played out in Marinette's facial expression all at once...

...and as much as she needed to, she couldn't look away from him. Nor him from her.

~----~

"MOVE."

Alya was suddenly in Chloé's face, hands balled up into fists, causing the blonde to step backwards by reflex.

"Don't tell me to move," Chloé muttered, warily. "I want to see how this ends."

"They're going to talk, right here, right now," Alya insisted. "Without your getting in their way more than you already have."

Ivan joined Alya for crowd control, as their other friends began to step back for decorum's sake.

"F-fine!" exclaimed Chloé. "I think I've made my point. And I'll see the difference in them tomorrow, I'm sure of it."

Adrien didn't notice as Chloé marched away with her escorts, nor how the others around them were slowly backing away. His world had contracted to include only himself and Marinette, because that world no longer made sense to him.

~----~

"Marinette?" he began, softly.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out, holding back some tears that threatened to burst out of her. "I am."

"What is it that you're sorry about?" Adrien asked. "Please, I need to know. Is what Chloé just said true? That you're in love with me? That you've been in love with me?"

A silent nod quadrupled the tension around them.

"For real?" he mumbled, wonder in his eyes.

And all at once, it started spilling out of her. How everything had started with a kind gesture, an offered umbrella on these very steps, and it had grown and grown and grown from there. How she'd gone from never having been in love to head-over-heels in an instant. How hard it had been for her not to throw herself into his arms and beg to be his... over and over... not wanting to overstep her boundaries... not wanting to ask for things that she wasn't sure that he could or would give her...

It was like a tidal wave pouring forth, once it began. There was no way to stop it. She worried that what she was saying was coming out wrong, that it was all wrong, that she was blowing it but she just couldn't stop, even though Adrien's face had started hopeful and happy but was clouding more and more as she continued.

Finally... the wave crested, and she had no more words to give. Neither did Adrien, it seemed, as silence fell between them.

"...Adrien?" she ventured, meekly. "Everything I just said was the truth. I swear to you that it was. And... um... I need to know what you think about that."

"I'm thinking a lot of things," Adrien replied, in a quiet tone. "I... I don't know if I've ever truly understood you, Marinette. No matter how much that I've wanted to. And I suppose that now I know why."

~----~

"Adrien? I wouldn't have--" Marinette began, but a gesture from him hushed her.

"Let me talk this out, please," Adrien requested. "I need to get my thoughts out while I can."

"O-okay."

"I want to be happy about this. I want to be so happy about this, Marinette. I really do," he breathed. "Because I have had growing feelings for you, too. I know that you know that. The time we've spent together lately, the awkward moments, those times when I wasn't sure quite what to say with you..."

Marinette stared back, speechless. YOUR awkward moments? YOUR growing feelings? she wanted to scream out, but dared not.

"I remember that day on the steps, in the rain. I remember it very well. There aren't too many days involving you that I can forget, Marinette," he told her, with a hint of a smile returning, and she felt a tiny surge of hope. "I felt a spark that day between us. I didn't understand what it was, or what it meant, so I let you define it for me. And I guess that I shouldn't have."

"W-why not?" she gasped.

"Marinette... this is going to be hard for me to say," said Adrien, darkening once more.

She nodded, suppressing the urge to run.

"That day on the steps... you'd misjudged me, the thing with the gum on your seat... but you had no way of knowing that you had. I couldn't blame you for thinking of me that way. And I wanted nothing else than to share my real self with you; I needed to open up and show you the real Adrien. The one dying to make friends, the one who sensed how amazing you might be from the very start... the one who knew that you'd be worth the effort and the risk."

"Uh... huh?"

"I got to know you from that day forward. And the one thing that I've always admired about you is how honest you are, Marinette. How much that you hate lies, and you hate liars. How passionate you are about doing the right thing, even when it's not the best thing for you," Adrien declared. "That you were the kind of person that I wanted to be."

"There was someone else that I was interested in, for a long while. Maybe that's why I never saw it," he continued, making Marinette's eyes widen. "But the potential was always there. That day that Troublemaker attacked, that day in the museum... when I asked you if you had feelings for me, or if you could think of me like that... did you think that I wanted you to say 'no?'"

"I d-didn't know what you wanted to hear," Marinette babbled. "I couldn't think straight. I was too nervous for that."

"One of the reasons that Kagami broke up with me," Adrien countered, "was that she was sure that you were crushing on me. That you always had been, and that I was crushing on you, too. That she couldn't trust that I wouldn't run around on her with you, or that you wouldn't have a weak moment and confess to me and everything would get complicated."

Marinette shook her head, negatively. "She was wrong! I was not going to stand between the two of you. I told her that, so many times," she protested.

"I did have feelings for you, though. She wasn't wrong about that. Or about what you felt," Adrien pointed out. "But I kept defending you, I kept telling her that she was wrong about both of us... and it was one of our big breaking points."

"That was... that was never my intention," Marinette cried out, the tears starting to emerge. "You know that."

Adrien stared back. "It's more like that I've never really known you at all," he muttered. "That you've been playing a game with me, all this time. Hiding something this important from me. Something that I needed to know, so badly! It's like... like you're really Lila, but in pigtails."

~----~

"That's... that's not fair," Marinette gasped. "That's not fair at all!"

"I guess it isn't," said Adrien, slowly, "because there's a big difference. I knew from the beginning that Lila was playing games, that she wasn't worth taking seriously. I never wanted anything romantic from her. I... I have, from you. But now I'm looking back at so many... I'm looking back at every little thing we've done together and I don't know which of them I can trust now!"

"I can't believe that this is happening like this," whimpered Marinette. "Do you think that I wanted to lie to you? Ever? Do you think that i had a good time hiding my feelings from you? If I kept secrets from you, it was because..."

She trailed off, a certain costumed secret recoiling before it crossed her lips.

"...Because what?"

Adrien leaned in close, though not for a kiss... not yet. Part of Marinette shivered with concern, even as her knees went weak from the symbolism of their closeness.

"Marinette... I just told you that I'm into you, very much. Or least there is a Marinette who fascinates me, who inspires me, who I thought... I thought that I was falling for, more every day," breathed Adrien. "And now you're saying that you're not that Marinette. That I need to rethink everything I know about you, and why! I feel like I deserve to know why you'd hide the real you from me this long."

"I..."

I shouldn't, part of her insisted. Alya knowing has been a good thing... and I can trust Adrien, I know that I can... but as shaken up as he is, this so isn't the time and place. I need to think about this.

"I can't tell you that. Not right now," she mumbled, looking down at her feet.

Adrien placed his hand under her chin and raised her face up gently, so that her eyes met his. She could've leaned forward a couple of centimeters and kissed him, throwing everything she had into it, if she'd been capable of that.

"...Please?"

Her life as she knew it dangled on a please-shaped tightrope.

I'm about to fall, one way or another, she realized. Everything's about to change. And now I need to decide how.

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #fanfic #prompt #chloe bourgeois #adrienette #angst #confession #the moment of truth... maybe #this would be SUCH a good time for an Akuma

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makoodlesarchive · 5 years ago

Text

(this beat is)

pairing: kirishima eijirou x reader

word count: 2648

warnings: NSFW, drunkenness, dry humping

Tip Jar!

[[PART 2]]

»»————-　♡　————-««

The music in the club is so loud that you can see the reverberations disturb the surface of your drink where it sits on the table. You have to move it every couple of minutes to avoid Mina’s flailing limbs as she tries to tell a story to Jirou; she doesn’t seem to realise that no one can hear her over the music, though Jirou is smiling and nodding along anyway.

The alcohol has turned your thoughts soupy and slow, and you sprawl comfortably in your seat with your head cradled in one hand. Across the dance floor, you watch as Kirishima begs the DJ to play One, Two Step for the fourth time that night. Judging by the poe-faced DJ, it’s not going well. Suddenly your view is obstructed by a pink hand waving in your face, and then Mina is. pressing right up into your side and yelling into your ear, “Oooooooh, who are you looking at, huh?”

You flush, and pray that she can’t see in the darkness of the club. “No one.” you say quickly, but Mina can’t seem to hear you over the pounding bass. Either that, or she’s ignoring you.

“Did someone cute catch your eye?”

“No!” you insist, louder this time. You lunge for your drink and take an exaggeratedly large gulp of it -- it has the desired effect of distracting Mina, who cheers loudly and encourages you to chug it.

Someone thumps down into the seat next to you, and you don’t even have to look to know that it’s Bakugou. He crosses his arms and scowls so fiercely that it looks for a moment like his face is about to collapse. “Kirishima is totally fuckin’ wasted.” his snarl carries over the music, and he directs his frown over to where Kirishima is still heckling the DJ.

“Yeah.” you agree with a little laugh, following his gaze. The way Kirishima’s red shirt clings to his broad shoulders should be illegal, and those black pants make it hard for you to tear your eyes away from his ass. He looks so good that it feels physically painful to look at him. When you finally manage to look away from him, you realise Bakugou is watching you watching Kirishima with a raised eyebrow. “Fuck off.” you say reflexively, despite the fact that Bakugou hasn’t actually commented yet.

His raised eyebrow morphs into a smug little grin that you’d love to smack off his face, but you also like having your arms connected to your body so you decide to let it slide. “None of my business if you want to admire the view.” he says, a little mockingly. You glare at him, totally ineffectively, because he barely seems to notice. A few moments pass where neither of you speak, and then suddenly Bakugou says, “He’s so drunk that I had to take his keys.”

You blink at him, a little confused. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. He’ll need help getting back to his place.”

“Probably.” You agree; Kirishima has given up on trying to coerce the DJ into playing classic early 2000s pop hits and is now weaving his way back to the table. It’s slow going, as he keeps misjudging his own size and bouncing into people only to ricochet backwards, barely keeping to his feet. He’s an absolute disaster, and you can’t believe how attracted to him you are.

Your crush on Kirishima is an embarrassing thing that began back in your UA days; you were in the General course, so you figured there was virtually no chance of him ever even noticing you. It got better when you befriended Mina, because apparently her entire group of friends came as a package deal, but you definitely were still stuck pretty firmly in the friendzone.

You’d be able to cope with it just fine -- it’s not like it’s the first crush you’ve ever had, and nobody even knows about it. Except for the fact that Bakugo fucking Katsuki of all people seems to have somehow found out about your secret crush. Normally that wouldn’t be such a huge deal. Bakugou really isn’t the kind to give a shit about trivial things like who has a crush on who. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, he seems to get great enjoyment out of watching you pine after his best friend. It’s uncomfortable and embarrassing, and you mostly try to pretend that you don’t notice his stupid shit-eating smirks whenever he catches you ogling Kirishima’s abs in his Pro Hero costume.

“Guys!” Kirishima yells as he finally reaches your table, swaying dangerously. “Guys! Let’s do more shots!”

“Hell no.” Bakugou shoots him down instantly before Mina gets the chance to cheer. “I’m going home.”

“Bakubro.” Kirishima affects a ridiculous pout which somehow manages to look really endearing on him. “C’mon man, one shot for the road!”

“No.”

Kirishima rounds on you immediately and just about blinds you with his grin, “Y/N! Shots!”

“Okay.” you hear yourself agreeing, which is stupid because you were supposed to agree with Bakugou. You blink rather stupidly as Kirishima yells and fist pumps the air before disappearing again, then turn to stare at Bakugou.

“Idiot.” Bakugou says, and you’re not sure if he means you or Kirishima. “Whatever. I’m leaving.”

“Yeah.” Mina agrees with a yawn. “I’m pretty tired too.”

“Will I tell Kirishima to forget the shots?” you ask, scanning the club for spiky red hair.

“Yeah.” Bakugou says slowly, “Why don’t you do that?”

His tone is a little weird, but honestly you’re too drunk to think much of it so you wobble your way to your feet and take off towards the bar. Kirishima isn’t difficult to spot, even if you weren’t as ridiculously attuned to his presence as you are. You push your way past people and wiggle your way into the bar to his side. When he notices you he grins, his teeth gleaming under the neon club lights. “Hey! I got the shots!”

“Bakugou says-- whoa, how many did you get?” you blink down at the five shot glasses lined up on the bar. “I think we’re the only ones that are actually going to be taking them.”

“We can split them, then!” Kirishima says happily, totally unbothered.

You eye him a little uncertainly as he leans heavily against the bar. “Are you sure? You’re… you’ve had a lot to drink.”

Kirishima nods along as though he thinks you’re talking nothing but sense, then pushes three shot glasses towards you and pulls the remaining two towards himself. “There we go,” he grins, “Fair! Now drink!”

You were intending on telling Kirishima that you didn’t have time to do the shots, and that you both were already drunk enough without adding shots to the mix, and plus Bakugou’s getting real antsy about getting home. Instead, you take one look at the way the corners of Kirishima’s eyes crinkle when he smiles and you toss back the three shots like the dumb bitch you are.

Kirishima cheers you on, laughing delightedly, then loops his arm in yours and tugs you back toward your friends. The problem was, when you got to the table there was no one there.

“Is this the right table?” Kirishima asked, confused, swaying a little.

“Yeah.” you say, frowning deep. What the hell? Where did everyone go?

You think of Bakugou’s weird tone, of him looking from you to Kirishima and saying ‘he’ll need help getting back to his place’. Oh no. He wouldn’t. Except he was Bakugou, and he absolutely would.

“That bitch.” you blurt, disbelieving. He really left you both here, knowing that Kirishima wouldn’t be able to get home without the keys that Bakugou had taken from him.

“Hey, are we going home now?” Kirishima asks, leaning his chin on your shoulder and talking right into your ear.

You shiver a little at the proximity and at the hot breath against your neck. “Um,” you say, a little helplessly, “I think you’re gonna have to stay at my place.”

“Great!” he says cheerfully, still swaying as he loops an arm around your waist and begins to escort you out of the club. His balance is shot and yours isn’t much better, so it ends up taking an embarrassingly long time for the two of you to weave your way out of the building.

The fresh air outside hits you like a slap, but instead of sobering you up it just makes you realise exactly how drunk you are. You trip on a curb and nearly overbalance, but then Kirishima is wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you and giggling into your ear and you realise that you are totally, totally screwed.

You can honestly say that you have no idea how this happened.

One minute you and Kirishima are giggling drunkenly and getting ready for bed, and the next you’re perched in his lap on the bed kissing so heatedly it feels like he’s about to swallow you whole. The shots had hit you like a train when you were halfway home; you can’t even remember who kissed who first.

He’s really warm and he tastes like rum, and you find your hands winding into his hair; it’s softer than you expected, a revelation which nearly knocks you flat. You’ve wanted to touch him like this for forever, and the heady sensation of his warmth pressed against you is making your head swim even more than it had been already.

His hands skim up your bare thighs -- you had stripped down into a sleep shirt and panties, thinking it was time for bed. He pulls away from your mouth and you make an embarrassing sound, like a whine pulled from the back of your throat. “Are you-- this is okay?” he asks, nipping along your jaw.

“Yes.” you breathe, clutching at his shoulders. You can feel the firmness of the muscle under your fingers as you press down. “Definitely okay.” The nipping continues at your jaw, then travels down your neck. “I-I really like you.”

Kirishima looks up, eyes wide and a little bloodshot. You can’t imagine that yours look any better. “You do?” when you nod, his face breaks out into a grin. “I like you too! Can I-?” he begins, and you feel his hands sliding inside your over-sized shirt, thumbing at your hips. Feeling bold, you lean forward and capture his lips again. He groans softly and pulls you closer to him, his hands sweeping over your waist and then down to the swell of your ass. His touch feels good, even through the drunken fuzziness.

“You can do whatever you want.” you mumble into his mouth. A part of you is a little mortified at your boldness, but it’s a small part that’s quickly washed away as Kirishima surges up into you. In a movement too swift for you to follow, he has you flipped onto your back as he leans over you. His hands feel hot as they pass over your skin, and you press up into him as he leans down to kiss you again.

The kiss only lasts a moment, and then he pulls back to look down at you. His breath comes in light puffs, hot against the side of your face, but he doesn’t say anything. You’re just about to ask what he’s doing, suddenly worried that he’s come to his senses and wants nothing to do with you anymore, when he moves. Suddenly he’s pressing right in between your legs, and your mouth falls open as you feel the hot, hard press of him against the inside of your thigh.

You’re afraid to make a noise, because you don’t want to interrupt the moment -- it feels fragile, like a soap bubble -- but then Kirishima’s hands are stroking over your ass and hiking your body higher, and then pulls you so you fit right up against him. Despite the alcohol, his movements are sure and strong, nothing like his wavering movements from earlier. It’s so easy to feel him; he had stripped down to his boxer briefs and shirt when you had first gotten home, so the only barrier between you two is the thin material of your underwear. When he moves against you again, you can’t stop the long, low, quiet moan that comes spilling out between your lips.

It’s as though your moan was some sort of signal for him, because suddenly he’s gripping your waist tighter as his own hips jerk against yours. He gasps in your ear as he thrusts himself against the warmth between your legs, then kisses the side of your head. That easy little display of affection has your back flexing, pushing you down to meet him as he humps against your core.

“You’re so warm,” Kirishima whispers into your hair, “You look so good- I wanna- really good,” he continues, a little nonsensically.

You cling to his shoulders, squirming as you feel the thick outline of his cock pressing right against your clit. “There,” you blurt, gasping as he presses there just right, “Yes, there-”

“Okay, okay,” he breathes, “Whatever you want-”

It’s a little embarrassing, how good it feels and how much of a mess you’ve turned into when you’re both technically still clothed. You’re basically just dry-humping, but the feel of Kirishima all around you and his breathy little moans right in your ear are winding you tighter and tighter, and every time he rubs up against you like that it feels like you’re boiling.

“Please,” you gasp. You don’t even know what you’re saying really, only that the feel of him rubbing against you like that, just right, is driving you insane. As you gasp, he starts to go harder, faster, “Like that, yes, yes, yes.”

One of Kirishima’s hands plants itself by the bed, the other wrapped around your back as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. He’s making small choked-off moans, and the sounds shoot heat straight to your core. You tug at his hair, and his moans get a little louder.

“Oh,” he says suddenly, gripping your hips tight, “Shit-”

He shudders hard, then warm wetness is soaking the front of your panties. The realisation that Kirishima has flooded his boxers just from dry-humping has you following over the edge, whining as he keeps grinding the way through both of your orgasms. His hands clench hard into your skin as hips thrusts turn clumsy and even, his hips jerking sporadically.

The force of the orgasm takes you by surprise; your toes have clenched so hard they’re starting to cramp, and your legs flop bonelessly to the bed as Kirishima lowers your body back to the mattress. He rolls to the side just enough so that his weight isn’t entirely on you, before curling right up into your neck and kissing your sweaty forehead. “That,” he says breathlessly, “That was really- yeah.”

You laugh, feeling a little winded. “Yeah,” you agree, then curl into him. A big arm wraps around your shoulder, and you’re pretty sure you could die happy exactly like this.

“You’re so great.” Kirishima mumbles, slurring a little. A glance at his face reveals that he’s already half-asleep, and you can’t help but laugh a little. He’s got the right idea; you feel like you’ve just ran a marathon, which is a little embarrassing, but you can blame the lack of stamina on the shots.

You’ve just closed your eyes, intending on following Kirishima’s example, when the aggravating buzzing of your phone goes off. You groan unhappily, reaching out to grapple with the bedside table until you find it.

Bakugou: You’re welcome, asshole

You glare at the text and click your tongue.

You: you’re such a dick

Kirishima snuffles in his sleep, and you smile as you watch his nose scrunch a little. Fuck, he’s so cute. You guess Bakugou’s not the worst wingman you could have asked for, even if his methods were less than conventional.

You: but thanks ;)

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima imagine #mha x reader #mha kirishima #mha imagine #bnha x reader

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cinaja · 3 years ago

Text

Before the Wall part 61

Masterlist

----

Initially, moving everyone to Cretea seemed like a brilliant solution to a terrible situation. In practice, though, it soon turns out that there are about a hundred problems attached that Miryam didn’t see coming at the first glance.

The first issue is, obviously, that most of their people do not want to move to Cretea. In spite of knowing about Shey and the other Fae members of the Alliance wanting them dead, the Seraphim still thought they would be able to return home to Erithia, and they are understandably reluctant to leave their home behind. The idea of moving to an island that is considered holy in their religion does little to ease their unhappiness, either. Meanwhile, the humans are theoretically fine with moving to some island they never heard of before, but are far from pleased at the prospect of having to share that island with a group of Fae.

Convincing everyone to go along with the plan takes days, and it only works because the alternative is to risk getting murdered. There are several concessions that need to be made, though. For one, it quickly becomes apparent that the Seraphim will only agree to come along if their friends and families can come as well. That was not initially something Miryam and Drakon had planned for – no need to drag more people than absolutely necessary into it, after all – but the Seraphim refuse to leave otherwise, and so they have no choice but to spirit the hundreds of thousands of Erithians still waiting in Erithia away to their camp. The attack they stage to cover their tracks is not exactly a good trick, but they hope that in the general chaos ensuing all over the Continent right now, no one will think to double-check.

Meanwhile, the humans come up with a few demands of their own to assure their safety. Most importantly, they downright refuse to be ruled over by any Fae. (“No offence to your husband,” Niria, who relays the decision to Miryam, says, “He seems nice enough, but he’s still Fae.”) Miryam would have picked Niria for the job of leading the humans, but everyone else seems to agree that it will obviously be her who takes up the role, and she has to admit that it’s convenient for an eventual unity within their soon-to-be-formed country to have the rulers of the Fae and humans already married to each other. Eventually, they might actually manage to get a unified government for all people living on Cretea, but for the moment, it is agreed upon that humans and Fae will be governed separately, with an option of merging the two governments eventually should both sides agree.

By the time they finally move on to the next issue (how to get everyone to Cretea), the Continent has already completely dissolved into chaos. They had to pull in most of their spies, but Andromache, who drops by almost every day, keeps them well-informed.

“It is a mess,” she says one day, looking drained enough that Miryam wordlessly hands her a mug of tea and gently pushes her towards the nearest chair. “Millions of people on the move everywhere. All roads are crowded, and the soldiers are busy day and night trying to keep the violence between groups at bay. And we still haven’t got any idea where to put most of these people.”

For the most part, Miryam just tries not to think about it. She doesn’t want to imagine these millions of people who are forced to leave their homes and travel through the entire Continent into the unknown, doesn’t want to think that this was not the future she was hoping for when she dreamt of what a world after the war might look like. (We won, she reminds herself. That’s all that really counts. Any other problems, we will find a way to deal with.)

There are many things she is trying very hard not to think too much about. Her death, for example. Or the wall that will soon go up and the people who will have to die for it to happen. Or how the entire mess the world has been turned into is, in some way, because of her. During the days when she is too busy to spend much time thinking, it works for the most part. At night, it’s a different matter.

At the end of the day, she’s still one of the lucky ones, though. Unlike so many others, at least she isn’t losing her home. Of course, there are places she will miss, Erithia and Telique for one. But she never truly had a place she considered home, not really, so there is no home for her to lose now. Her home were always other people, and most of those will be coming with her.

It more difficult for Drakon. He is trying very hard to pretend that he is enthusiastic about moving to Cretea to set a good example for his people, but Miryam can tell that losing Erithia is tearing him apart. That is definitely her fault in a way, just as the fact that his right arm still hurts and none of the healers they talked to has been able to do anything about it is because of her. (Well, the blame for that last thing lies with Daín for the most part, but he had the good sense to stay away so far. Miryam is sure that will change soon enough, though, given what she knows about him.)

Drakon and her settle into a rhythm of sorts together. During the days, they pretend everything is fine. At nights, when they are alone in their tent, they allow themselves to mourn, to be scared and in pain. It probably isn’t ideal, but Miryam supposes they will have all the time in the world to deal with what they lost once everyone is safe and settled on Cretea.

----

Miryam is asleep in their tent, or at least pretending to be, but Drakon gave up on trying to sleep after having spent two hours tossing and turning on his mattress. His right arm still hurts, pain shooting up from the fingertips to the shoulder at any movement, which makes sleeping difficult.

Instead, he leaves the camp, nodding to the guards as he passes them, and sits down on a flat stone by the shore still within the wards Miryam set up around the camp. Tiny waves are lapping around his feet. Drakon picks up a handful of pebbles and starts tossing them into the water, sending ripples running over the surface.

He is just about to pick up a second hand of stones when a reflection appears in the water. He looks up and finds a dark-haired man with dark skin and blue robes floating above the water. So he did come, just as Miryam predicted.

“Ghost,” he says, only to remember a heartbeat later that the being in front of him is called Daín.

“Hello Drakon,” Ghost – no, Daín, remember it already – says quietly.

He doesn’t say anything after that, and Drakon only stares at him. Miryam told him about what happened after he resurrected her, but he still cannot quite believe that the man before her is the second-most important being in his religion. (Although given that his goddess apparently wants him dead, he might want to reconsider his religion as well. There are many things he needs to reconsider, it seems.)

“How… how are you doing?” Daín finally asks.

“Good,” Drakon says in a too-casual tone. “Thanks for asking. You might want to avoid Miryam for the time being, though. She’s furious with you.”

“Miryam, huh?” Daín asks. “And you?”

Drakon shrugs with his good shoulder. “My arm still hurts.” Understatement of the century. “I can barely hold a pen. How do you think I am feeling?”

Daín’s form dims slightly. “I’m sorry,” he says. “That’s what I actually came to tell you. I didn’t mean…” He breaks off, then starts again. “I regretted it the moment I did it.”

“Why did you do it, then?” Drakon asks.

That’s what has been bugging him ever since. Admittedly, he isn’t the best at judging people, but he still thought he could trust Ghost. They weren’t exactly friends, but he still thought they liked each other. That he was apparently so wrong stings.

“Because I couldn’t spend the rest of eternity stuck in that cave,” Daín says, voice rising slightly. “I just couldn’t.”

“But we had promised to get you out,” Drakon says. He doesn’t like how small his voice sounds. This would probably be easier if he was angry.

“And how would you have done that, with Miryam dead?” Daín shakes his head. “Any possible way to ever free me – be it in combination with resurrecting Miryam or just cutting me loose – involved you using the sword. I didn’t want this, I swear I didn’t, but it was my only chance.”

“Ah,” Drakon says, nodding slowly.

He hadn’t considered that. It makes sense, though, and it being the reason for why Daín did what he did is actually a relief. It means that Daín didn’t hate him, didn’t fake friendliness to manipulate him into freeing him from the beginning – Drakon didn’t misjudge him that badly, after all – he just wanted to get out of the cave. After eight thousand years of being trapped there alone, it is certainly something Drakon can sympathize with. He doesn’t exactly approve (his arm hurts too much for that), but he has a hard time blaming Daín.

“And you…” Daín continues, “you wanted to save Miryam so badly. Initially, I wasn’t going to help you, but you practically begged me and so – “

“And so you thought it was fine to lie to me?” Drakon asks, annoyed again. He understands why Daín didn’t give him the choice, but there’s really no reason for Daín to act like he was doing him a favour, or like he was justified in taking away his choice on the matter. “If you were so sure I would do it anyways, you could have just told me the truth.”

“I – “ Daín begins, but he is cut off by a voice from behind.

“Are you actually apologizing because you feel bad, or just because your little plan to free yourself didn’t go quite as planned and you need me to not hate you, Daín?”

Drakon turns around to Miryam who is leaning against a tree behind him, arms crossed so tightly she looks like she is moments away from accidentally snapping them.

“Can’t sleep?” Drakon asks by way of greeting and moves aside a bit on his stone to make space for her.

“As usual.” Miryam pushes off her tree and goes to sit next to him. Arms still crossed, she turns to glare at Daín. “Still waiting for your answer.”

Daín still seems to be processing what Miryam just said to him. He is hanging entirely still in the air, not even blinking. At Miryam’s words, he snaps out of it, though.

“I really do want to apologize,” he says. “I would have come even if I had been freed fully, instead of just being tied to you instead of the sword. And I would still want you to not hate me even if I was able to move more than a mile away from you at a time.”

Miryam snorts. “Yeah, it must be terribly inconvenient. All that work to get free, only to end up tied to one of the people you betrayed to get what you want.”

She is very good at only letting anger and coldness show right now, but Drakon knows that she was as hurt by Daín’s betrayal as he was, and that she isn’t pleased at all by having him bound to her now. Under different circumstances, Drakon thinks she might have decided to be more charitable about the entire situation and give Daín a second chance, but it seems she decided to be angry for both of them about Daín nearly getting him killed.

“Besides,” Miryam continues, “your apologies hardly undo what you did.”

Now, Drakon does feel the need to interject. He is almost beginning to feel bad for Daín.

“It was nice of him to explain, though,” Drakon says. “I can’t even blame him, honestly.”

Miryam twists around to face him, looking outraged. “What?” She asks. “You can’t be serious.”

Drakon shrugs. “He wanted a way out of that cave. I understand that. And if I had just let him out earlier instead of leaving him trapped there all alone just because I was scared to break tradition, none of this would have happened, so at least part of the blame for the entire situation lies with me.”

“Using the sword would still have killed you, though!” Miryam is clearly trying to keep her voice calm, but she doesn’t succeed entirely. “That was his plan from the beginning. How can you just be willing to overlook that?”

In spite of himself, Drakon finds himself smiling. It has been an ongoing discussion between the two of them in the last weeks which one of them is putting to little importance into their own wellbeing. Drakon feels that Miryam is brushing off the fact that she died and the related trauma too easily and also spends far too much time blaming herself and too little blaming others for everything that happened. In turn, Miryam thinks that Drakon should focus less on her and more on how he almost died and also lost his home.

In the end, they are probably both right. It seems that they are both painfully alike in that they never quite manage to place enough importance on their own lives.

“That wasn’t my plan at all,” Daín objects, making Drakon turn to face him again. “I didn’t want to hurt Drakon, that’s why I stopped suggesting he use the sword after a while!”

Miryam looks like she already has a reply ready for that, but Drakon cuts in before she gets the chance. “I think we aren’t going to solve this today,” he says. “What I’d like to know, though, is how you ended up in that cave. The true story. And how you know the Mo… Étain.”

That stops Miryam from saying whatever was just on her mind. She has been dying to know the details of Daín’s and Étaín’s past, and she evidently cares more about that than about telling Daín off yet again.

“Alright,” Daín says. He seems relieved at the chance to change the subject. “Then let’s start at the beginning. From my understanding, it is Fae belief that I am a Fae who was chosen as a consort by Étaín, who is the goddess who created this world.”

Drakon nods, internally bracing himself. He has a feeling he isn’t going to like whatever is coming next. He was never go-to-the-temple-daily religious, but he did care about it. The years of war didn’t exactly improve his relationship with his goddess, but he can’t shake the feeling that this will be worse still.

“The Fae, as usual, were wrong on both counts,” Daín says. “Étaín and I are both members of a species called Aín. We are born from the universe itself, made from the strings that make up its essence and have powers that are – although any Aín I can think of would consider the comparison an insult – similar to the powers witches exhibit. Although the more correct way to put it considering the history would be that the witches have powers that are a faint echo of ours.”

“Sounds pretty god-like to me,” Drakon mutters.

“That’s an interesting question, isn’t it?” Daín asks, perking up. “What is a god?” He seems genuinely excited at the question. “You see, there is no clear answer. If we define it as a ‘being of great power that is worshipped as a deity’, one might consider Miryam to be a goddess, provided she got herself some worshipers, and – “

“Can we get back to the subject at hand?” Miryam asks sharply. Drakon cannot tell if she is just annoyed with Daín in general, wants him to continue his story, or doesn’t like the goddess-comparison. Probably a mixture of all three.

Daín winces. “Sure. Anyways, long story short, Étaín grew tired of simply visiting worlds and watching life there as a spectator. She wanted… well, I suppose that no longer matters. She took over one of the worlds – this one – and began to shape it to her liking, using the Cauldron, a magical item she created, to anchor the spell she used. She never particularly cared about the world’s original inhabitants – the humans, as I am sure you already guessed – but there was a bunch of invaders from another world – the Fae – who were all too happy to worship her as a goddess when she had prepared this world so well for them. And Étaín quickly found that she enjoyed being worshipped as a goddess.”

Drakon groans and buries his face in his hands. He prepared himself for the worst, but this is worse than anything he considered possible. His ancestors were invaders who stole this world from the humans and then proceeded to enslave him, his goddess the one who helped them, and –

“And what was your role in all this?” Miryam asks.

“I was her best friend,” Daín says without looking at Miryam. “And then I was her lover and her husband.”

“So you helped her.” Miryam has her arms crossed again and seems to be growing increasingly angry as the conversation progresses.

“No. But I didn’t stop her either, and that’s almost as bad.” Daín sighs. “It took me far too long to realize that she was wrong, and to start acting against her. I only changed my mind when I met Rashida. But from then on, I worked with the humans against Étaín. Well, mostly against the Fae, but Étaín backed them, so it made little difference. I managed to keep it secret for centuries, but she found out eventually. When she did, we fought. And we hurt each other badly enough that we were both reduced to this.” He gestures at himself. “Powerless. Mere shades of what we once were, forced to remain stuck in this world forever without ever having the power to influence it again.”

Drakon curses softly and runs a hand through his hair. Wonderful. So everything he believes was one giant lie. Well, not everything, of course, but still quite a lot. A lot of really important things.

Miryam nods slowly. “Interesting story. We’ll think about it.”

“There’s more still,” Daín says. “So much you do not know yet.”

“Maybe some other day,” Miryam says. “I’d rather be alone with Drakon now, though.”

Daín nods. “Of course. And I truly am sorry.”

Miryam doesn’t react. Drakon might have offered some acknowledgement, but he is still chewing on what Daín just told him. After waiting another heartbeat, Daín disappears into thin air.

Drakon turns to Miryam. His first instinct is to apologize, to offer some kind of comment about what Daín just revealed about his ancestors, but Miryam likely wouldn’t care about that. She didn’t the first time around, and she doubts he will now.

Miryam is the one who breaks the silence. “I can’t believe you are actually considering to forgive him,” she says, but she is smiling as she shakes her head slightly.

Ah. So this is what they are talking about. “And you?” Drakon asks. “Are you just going to hate him forever? Might be inconvenient, given that he is tied to you. He’ll have to be around a lot.”

Miryam laughs. “Unfortunate, isn’t it? I guess I’ll have to put that on the list of things I will eventually have to deal with. Sometime after we’ve made sure our people get through the next year without starving, I imagine.”

Drakon smiles back at her. “At least it won’t be boring?” He offers.

“Oh, definitely,” Miryam says and takes his hand. “At the rate things are going, we’ll be lucky if we ever get so much as a single boring day in our lives.”

“There’s a lot to be done until we get there, though,” Drakon says and jumps to his feet. “Houses to build and fields to plant. A country to create from scratch.” He offers her a hand to help her up.

Miryam takes the offered hand and lets him pull her to her feet. “Sounds fun. We better find a way to get everyone to Cretea safely first, though.”

----

Moving over to Cretea turns out to be less of a challenge than Miryam initially anticipated. Lacking ships and unable to purchase new ones for secrecy reasons, they had to rely on magic to get them across the ocean and onto the island. The entire matter (disabling the wards to even allow people onto the island and then creating a spell that allows about a million people to transfer to the island) took Miryam four days and no less than six trips to Cretea.

The spell she ended up with is hardly a work of art – it’s a one-way bridge of sorts between their camp and Cretea, and only ten people can pass through at a time and the transfer over to Cretea takes about thirty seconds, meaning that they need to have the spell running for well over a month to get everyone over to the island – but it is functional. A month is long, yes, it seems like a small price to pay for a relatively safe and comfortable way of travelling. Especially compared to what the millions of people on the Continent who also lost their homes have to deal with.

On the last day before the first people will start leaving for Cretea, Andromache visits again. Drakon is busy explaining the logistics of everything to the group of soldiers that will pass through the wall first, and so it’s just the two of them sitting together in Miryam’s tent.

“So, how are you doing?” Andromache asks.

Miryam shrugs. “Getting used to everything.” She doesn’t say that the nightmares are bad again, or that she feels so terribly guilty for all these people having to leave their homes, or that she is terrified of what the future might hold.

Andromache is kind enough to leave it at that and not call attention to her lie. “You’re leaving with the first group tomorrow?” She asks instead.

“Yes.” Miryam nods to the necklace Andromache is still wearing around her neck. “That will still bring you to me whenever you want. I’m hoping to see you again even when we’ve left the Continent.”

“I’ll come visit,” Andromache says with a sad smile.

Neither of them says that Andromache will have a very limited amount of time where she is even able to visit. The evacuations will probably take a few months still, but once the Wall goes up, there will be no more visits. Because there will be no more Andromache.

It is a subject both of them have carefully avoided in the last weeks. The knowledge that the wall spell will require the lives of the six human queens to come into function is always there, standing between them, but Miryam hasn’t yet found the courage to address it and Andromache doesn’t seem interested in bringing it up either.

Miryam reaches into her jacket and pulls out a second necklace. “And it would be great if you could give this to Mor. Tell her that I’d like to see her again sometime.”

Andromache frowns at the necklace in Miryam’s hand, then reluctantly takes it. “Is this your way of making me talk to Mor again?”

“This is my way of making sure a friend of mine doesn’t spend the rest of her life blaming herself for my death, and of possibly clearing up our argument,” Miryam replies. “Although I do wish you two would talk things out.”

Andromache makes a face at Miryam. “I don’t.”

“It was just an argument, Andromache. And it was halfway my fault, anyways, for not warning Mor of what I was going to do. It’s really not worth breaking up over.”

And Miryam feels terrible that this argument led to two of her friends breaking up. She never wanted that to happen, and she doesn’t think Mor deserves it. What she has said hadn’t exactly been kind, but given what Miryam had done, it hadn’t been unwarranted, either. Miryam doesn’t regret her actions, but she also cannot blame anyone for hating her for them.

“Well, it’s not your relationship so you don’t get to decide that,” Andromache mutters. When Miryam just watches her in silence, she sighs. “Besides, I’m not breaking up with Mor over the argument the two of you had. I’m breaking up with her because of the general implications of her behaviour.”

“You don’t really think Mor is anything like Shey,” Miryam says.

“No. But I don’t think I can imagine a relationship with her either. Not anymore.” Andromache shrugs. “I mean, even if I wasn’t going to die in that spell, I think it would be better for things to end here. Especially with the wall soon going up, there is little point in investing in a relationship I am unsure about.”

“Either way, you should talk to her sometime,” Miryam says. “You won’t get many chances to clear things between you up anymore, and such things shouldn’t be put off too long.” She thinks of Jurian and all the things she never got the chance to say to him and adds, “Talking from experience.”

Andromache sighs and closes her hand around the necklace. “I’ll give it to Mor,” she says. “And I’ll see. About the conversation.”

Miryam nods. “That’s all I am asking.”

----

Almost two weeks after Miryam gave it to her, Andromache still carries the charmed necklace she was meant to give to Mor around with her. She intended to give it to Mor right away, but somehow, the opportunity never arose. With the entire Continent dissolved into complete chaos, refugee trails running from one side to the other, she simply didn’t have much time for private conversations. Besides, Mor wasn’t in Telique as much as before, meaning they rarely saw each other either way.

Alright. If Andromache is being entirely honest, she didn’t exactly put much effort into meeting her, either. She could easily have sent a letter and asked Mor to come visit, but the truth is that she simply doesn’t want to talk to her. Having a few weeks to think everything through helped calm her anger into a manageable extent – which was, of course, helped by the fact that Miryam and Drakon turned out to be alive and… well, not quite well, but well enough, she suppoes – but that still doesn’t mean she’s just going to forgive Mor. Not for her behaviour and not for the mindset behind it.

Talking to Mor now would mean having to deal with that, and she simply doesn’t have the energy to explain to her where her problem is. If Mor doesn’t figure it out herself, it’s hardly up to Andromache to help her.

She promised Miryam, though. And Miryam also has a point that some things ought to be settled in due time. So as the date when the wall is scheduled to go up (which will, as it happens, also mean Andromache’s death), she finally makes herself approach Mor after a meeting in Telique.

“We need to talk,” she says by way of greeting, making Mor spin around to her, the papers she was just studying forgotten. Before she can say anything else, Andromache adds, “Meet me in half an hour in our usual spot.”

With that, she turns around and stalks off.

Their usual spot is one of the palace’s private gardens, this one belonging traditionally to Angolere. Usually, it is visited by courtiers from her country, but with everyone so busy lately, it is entirely empty when Andromache arrives. She still walks around once to check, then sits down on a bench under a willow and waits.

Mor arrives five minutes later. She is clearly nervous, fiddling around with the sleeve of her dress as she walks. Andromache nods to the seat beside her and waits until Mor has put up a ward around them before pulling the necklace out of her pocket and holding it out to her.

The explanation she offers is quick and hard. She only offers the bare bones of the situation. Miryam, Drakon and the others are alive, they are hiding, Miryam wants Mor to visit. She does not mention Shey, or the fact that Miryam died. If Mor wants to know about these things, she will have to speak to Miryam about it.

Halfway through her explanations, Mor begins to cry. Andromache does not put an arm around her shoulders to comfort her. Part of her wants to, but that would send a signal to Mor she doesn’t want to send, and so she simply finishes her explanation and then waits for Mor to stop crying.

Maybe it was wrong of her to wait this long before giving the news to Mor. Letting her go on for weeks still thinking Miryam, Drakon and the others are dead was cruel, perhaps. Did she truly do it because she did not want to speak to Mor, or was it some sort of punishment? It bothers Andromache that she cannot tell and she vows to herself to do better. She once loved Mor dearly – for all that she made mistakes, she does not deserve cruelty, or punishment.

“So things between us…” Mor begins, hesitantly. “Things are fine again? We’re good.”

Andromache’s initial reaction is to snap at her, but she promised herself to be kind about this from now on, if only to make up for not delivering Miryam’s message earlier. This is, although Mor doesn’t yet know it, their final conversation. And Andromache wants a neat resolution to this, one that will leave her knowing she did everything right. She doesn’t want to be angry with Mor anymore. She just wants this settled and then she wants to move on.

“No,” she says as gently as she can manage. “I never blamed you for Miryam’s death, and so her not being dead changes nothing at all.” Mor looks completely crestfallen. She doesn’t say anything else, so it’s up to Andromache to say the final words. “Things between us are over, Mor.”

She doesn’t say that she is sorry. This conversation is already more for Mor’s sake than for hers, but there are limits to how far she will go. Maybe if Mor hadn’t thought that the sole problem was Miryam’s death, she might have been kinder.

Mor is crying again.

Andromache sighs. Still, she doesn’t reach out to comfort her. “With the wall soon going up, we wouldn’t have much of a future either way,” she says. “The Night Court and Angolere will be on different sides of the wall, with no way across.”

It isn’t the reason for why she is ending the relationship, but it might soften the blow for Mor. Let her think that the wall influenced her decision, that they might still have had a chance without it.

“I could stay in Angolere with you,” Mor sniffs.

“And leave your family behind forever? That’s not a choice I’d want you to make. Especially not over a relationship I am no longer sure about.”

She is far more than “no longer sure”, but there’s no need to say that. If not for the wall, if not for Andromache’s upcoming death, there might be some way to salvage their relationship, but Andromache doesn’t think she would be willing to make the effort. She certainly wouldn’t want Mor to make a choice as permanent as leaving her home behind for her now.

It does not make Mor cry any less, though. Andromache wishes she would stop crying long enough to think about her words and realize she is right. There’s no way Mor would want to leave her family and friends behind, not even for Andromache. But well, maybe she has a right to her tears and this is just Andromache being impatient with her. Looking at it objectively, it is probably her who is being too cold about this while Mor’s reaction is appropriate to the situation.

“Not all endings have to be bad,” Andromache offers. “I know it sometimes feels that way, but a relationship ending isn’t the end of the world. It just happens sometimes, and sometimes, it is even for the best. At times, two people are just right for each other for a time, and then they aren’t anymore, but that doesn’t mean the time before was bad or didn’t bring anything to both of them.”

That was very, very kind of her, Andromache thinks. Miryam will be satisfied. A bit cold, perhaps, but she just can’t help it. She is done with this relationship and, harsh though it may sound, done with Mor. She believes what she said – for a time, their relationship was good and she will always be grateful for that. But she sees no cause to maintain any kind of relationship with Mor after this.

“But I don’t want to go on without you,” Mor whispers.

Is it too cold if Andromache tells her that she will get over it in time? At least that’s the experience Andromache made in her two previous relationships. (Well, the first of these relationships barely lasted more than a month, but that didn’t make Andromache at eighteen feel less like she was dying when her then-boyfriend broke up with her.) On the other hand, that is probably not what Mor wants to hear right now, and given that this is her first relationship, it might be best if she makes these experiences on her own.

“You’ll manage,” she says. “I was the first person you loved – I doubt I’ll be the last.” For the sake of the good years they had, she makes herself smile. “I was happy to have met you, Morrigan. I wish you a long and happy life.” It is true, too.

Mor is crying harder again and doesn’t seem capable of saying anything, but that’s alright. Andromache would have appreciated some kind parting words from her, but she doesn’t need them. She is perfectly at peace with the way their relationship ended – this meeting’s intention was to give Mor a resolution, not her.

She gets up, inclines her head to Mor one last time, and walks out of the garden, leaving Mor alone on the bench.

----

On the Continent, the evacuations continue, the chaos showing no way of easing yet. By contrast, Prythian is almost eerily calm. The only court that is losing any territory is Spring, where everyone is busy moving hundreds and thousands of people, but up north in the Night Court, one might think there are no evacuations happening at all.

Mor enjoys the quiet. It offers a nice contrast to the storm raging inside her, and gives her all the time in the world to nurse her broken heart. After that terrible last conversation with Andromache, she fled to the cabin in the mountains where Rhysand is still recovering – or, lately, quietly seething at the fact that his father forbid him from going after Amarantha on his own – and together, they spend days in solitude.

They are a good fit these days, both of them equally miserable. For the most part, they do not talk at all. Rhysand wants to be left alone with his rage, and Mor doesn’t feel like talking about what happened with Andromache either. Well, she wouldn’t have felt like it even if Rhys had known about their relationship in the first place.

As far as she can tell, Rhys believes she is mourning Miryam and Drakon. About them, they talk once or twice, but Mor usually blocks off the conversation. She loves Rhys, but she isn’t prepared to talk about Miryam yet. Not when Miryam and their last argument are so closely tied to everything that is now wrong with her life.

Some days, she sits outside in the cold and twists the necklace in her hands. She hasn’t found the courage to actually use it yet. If Miryam wanted Mor to get it, that likely means she wants to talk to her, but what would they even talk about?

Nothing Mor might say would change anything about the facts. It won’t undo what Miryam did in the Black Land, or the argument they had about it. Nor will it erase the fact that Mor promised to protect Miryam, and then she left, and then Miryam almost died. It won’t make Andromache want her back, either.

Mor is sitting outside with the necklace again one day when Rhys sits down next to her. “What is the business with that necklace?” He asks. “A gift from a lover who left you?”

“No,” Mor chokes out. And then, before she can think any better of it, she is telling him the truth. Not everything – not a word about Andromache – but she tells him what the necklace is, what it does. She wants to mention her argument with Miryam, but every time she tries to repeat what happened, her voice abandons her.

After she is done, Rhys is silent for a while. Finally, he says, “I’m not sure if you should visit them. It would be a risk.”

“How so?” Mor asks, perking up.

“Well, if Miryam and Drakon wish for people to think they are dead, you visiting them would only put that in danger, wouldn’t it? What if father notices that you are gone and starts asking where you were?”

Mor flinches. She didn’t consider that option yet, but he is right. It would be irresponsible to visit Miryam. Even if Miryam asked for it, Mor shouldn’t… At least not right now. Maybe in a few months, once everything has settled down and she isn’t watched this closely by her uncle anymore. Maybe by then, things will have calmed down all on their own, too. Sometimes, time is the best medicine.

Yes, Mor thinks. This is right. Soon enough, things will have calmed down and it will have stopped hurting and then, she will be able to talk to Miryam again, too. It will all be alright. It just takes a little time.

----

The next two months are so busy that the time seems to move at twice the normal speed. That it takes over a month to move everyone to Cretea seemed inconvenient at first, but having people appear one after the other on Cretea actually turns out to be a blessing. That way, the first people to arrive can already start setting up a camp, scout the terrain and look for food. All of this is be painfully necessary because Cretea, densely forested and full of unknown plants and animals as it is, it definitely not an island you just want to dump a million of people onto without preparation.

By the time the last of their people arrives and Miryam closes her bridge spell, they have not one but actually five separate camps, all within less than an hour of each other, to avoid people being too densely crowded in one area and polluting the water. They also have some makeshift huts erected and catalogued most of the common fauna and flora as well as mapped the nearby parts of the island. The cartographers and scouts especially have done great work, but everyone on Cretea did their part.

Loathe as Miryam is to admit it, though, everything would have been a whole lot more difficult if not for Daín’s help. Within a day of the first people arriving on Cretea, they realized that the island is completely different from the rest of the Continent. More than half of the local plants and animals are unknown even to their experts, and it is impossible to tell which ones are dangerous. (For example, who would have thought that the tiny elephants living in the jungle can spit poison if they feel threatened?)

Daín, having apparently been the one to create Cretea as a wedding gift to Étaín, knows all the local specialities, though, and he is willing to help, which forces Miryam to put her lingering anger with him aside for the moment. To his credit, he doesn’t tie his help to any demands, doesn’t even ask Miryam and Drakon to forgive him for what he did in exchange. Drakon still seems to forgive him, even though his arm still hasn’t gotten better. Miryam doesn’t feel inclined to do the same yet.

Busy as they all are with trying to settle into Cretea and not be killed by the wildlife, she barely notices how the time passes. It’s like she blinked and suddenly, more than two months have passed since that battle on the ocean floor. On the Continent, the evacuations are drawing to a close. Not everyone is settled in yet, of course, and on the Fae side of the Continent, it is already obvious that there will be struggles over borders still to come, but everyone has reached their side of the Continent by now. Which means the wall will go up soon.

The realization hits Miryam like a punch to the chest when Andromache calmly tells her that they will cast the wall spell in less than a week. Before she even had the chance to truly comprehend what is about to happen, it’s Andromache’s last visit and they are forced to say goodbye to each other.

Andromache seems entirely calm about the situation, which just makes it more difficult for Miryam. Words rarely fail her, but now, they do. Andromache is one of her closest friends – the idea of losing her like this is unbearable. It almost feels like Miryam is killing her herself.

Andromache seems to guess her line of thought, though, because as she hugs Miryam goodbye, she whispers into her ear, “I know you like to blame yourself for things that aren’t your fault, and that you won’t listen to me when I tell you that you hold no blame for a decision I made freely. I still want you to not blame yourself for this, though. Consider it my last wish if you want.”

Miryam isn’t sure if that is a wish she will be able to honour, but she still makes herself nod. After Andromache has disappeared, she spends a long time staring at the space where she was just standing, trying not to think about anything at all. Then, she turns around and walks over to the nearest human camp.

It is perched in a valley, and Miryam finds a flat stone on a nearby hill where she sits down. From up here, she can see the entire camp, all the people moving round down there, going about their daily activities and simply living. Children are running through the camp, chasing each other in some made-up game. Fires are burning everywhere, adults preparing dinner over them.

Miryam smiles softly. Maybe in a moment, she will go down there and join the hustle, maybe find herself some dinner and join the groups of people sitting around in front of the tents. For the moment, though, she is content to simply watch.

She loves moments like this. They remind her that even if many things didn’t go the way she planned, at the end of the day, she got the most important thing she wanted, the only one that really mattered. At the end of the day, they won and they are free, and that’s all that really counts.

She just wishes Jurian was here to see this. He would have loved it as much as she does and it is so beyond cruel that he never got to see that the victory he sacrificed so much for.

“I miss you,” she whispers.

She doesn’t believe that anyone is there to listen, doesn’t even believe in an afterlife, but some things are better said out loud. For some words, it is easier to be able to pretend that there is someone listening.

“I wonder what you would make of everything if you were here.” She smiles, shaking her head slightly. “You would probably be against the wall far less than I am. You would think I’m stupid to dislike it so much, I know. We might even argue over it. I would give anything to be able to argue with you over that one more time. But mostly I just… I really wish you were here to see this. We won. And it kills me that you never got to hear about that.”

The only answer is the wind rustling in the leaves. What wouldn’t Miryam give for one chance, just once more chance to talk to Jurian. How is it that she got a second chance at life but he didn’t?

She tries to comfort herself with the knowledge that Jurian would be happy for her. If he was able to talk to her, he would probably tell her off for feeling guilty that she lives while he is gone. He would want her to live a happy life, the same thing she would have wanted for him had their positions been reversed.

“We won,” Miryam repeats once more, and then, she gets up and walks down to the camp.

----

The sunlight pierces the darkness without warning. Had Jurian been able to, he would have closed his eye against the sudden light, but as it is, he can only wait until his eye adjusts to the brightness and he can see again. Slowly, Amarantha’s face comes into focus in front of him.

“Have you missed me?” She asks.

Even if Jurian had been able to reply, he wouldn’t have. He didn’t miss Amarantha, of course, but after so long trapped alone in the dark, even the face he hates the most in the entire world is a welcome sight. He doesn’t know how long it has been since Amarantha shoved his eye into that casket, furious over the Loyalists’ defeat and clearly trying to sour the victory for Jurian, only that it felt like an eternity trapped alone in the dark, moments blurring together in a never-ending stream of terribleness.

“It’s been almost three months,” Amarantha says as if reading his thoughts and picks the ring with his eye on it up.

“Such a long time!” She seems in a good mood today, and Jurian is immediately suspicious. Her good news tend to end badly for him. “There is so much you missed. Do you want me to tell you?”

Yes. No. Jurian doesn’t know. If he still had a body, he is sure his heart would be racing. Any news that has Amarantha in such a good mood can only be terrible indeed, especially when it must be bad enough to counter her anger over the Alliance winning the war.

“Well, one thing you certainly didn’t miss was your allies looking for you,” Amarantha says casually. “Because they didn’t. They seem entirely content to leave you to rot. If you ask me, they are probably glad to be rid of you. Not that I can blame them.”

Once, Jurian might have objected – internally, at least – but now, he cannot. He has run out of possible explanations for why none of his friends came to save him yet, especially with the war now over for months. They should have come. But they didn’t, and the only possible reason is that they do not care.

“No, there was something else I wanted to tell you about,” Amarantha says. “I even considered interrupting your little time-out for it, but I thought you could use some time on your own to contemplate how little use your side winning this war was for you in the end.”

Desperately, Jurian tries to cling onto the knowledge that this war was still worth it. If they won, that must mean slavery was abolished. Millions of people must have been freed. It was worth it.

It is difficult to truly feel that way, though, when he cannot see the effects. All that’s there for him is pain and suffering, and none of his supposed friends seem to be willing to help him. It’s like they won and then forgot about him, like they had no use for him anymore and so they threw him away.

“Well, now you hear a few months too late,” Amarantha continues. She smiles at him. It is not a pleasant smile, showing far too many teeth. “Your little mortal lover – sorry, former lover – is dead.”

Jurian’s world goes entirely still. It’s a lie, is his first thought. It has to be a lie. A poor one at that, given that he knows the war is already over. Miryam cannot be dead.

“That lesser faery she betrayed you with is dead as well, although I doubt you are sad about that,” Amarantha continues. “As well as a whole bunch of other people, mortals and faeries, mostly. Ravenia sent soldiers after them, and they somehow managed to completely wipe each other out. Everyone dead, on both sides.” Her smile broadens further. “I find it beyond amusing, honestly. Although I would be really curious to know what you think about it.”

What he thinks about it? He thinks, of course, that it cannot be true. And if it was… No, he cannot bear to think about that.

“She betrayed you, after all,” Amarantha continues. “You did everything for her, and she couldn’t even be bothered to try and save you. Maybe she was too busy with that faerie prince she picked over you. Maybe she was glad to have you out of the way.”

Jurian wishes he could block out her words. He doesn’t want to hear what she is saying, but he can’t stop it. The words are like poison, all the deadlier because there is at least a spark of truth in them.

Amarantha shrugs. “If I were you, I would probably hate her. I’d be glad that she is dead.”

Jurian isn’t. He isn’t. He could never hate Miryam, could never want her dead.

But she must have hated him and wanted him dead if she never came for him. He tries to tell himself that she simply might not have had the time, that she might have come for him after she freed her people had she survived to do so, but it isn’t a good enough excuse. Had it been Miryam being tortured, he would have dropped anything to try and save her. Nothing, absolutely nothing could have been more important.

And she left him for Drakon, Drakon who wouldn’t even try to save her when she was in danger. Jurian told her to stay away from him, but she didn’t listen, and what did it get her? It’s her own damn fault if she died.

No, no, he doesn’t mean that. What is he thinking?

Amarantha smiles like he knows exactly what is going on in his head. “You are glad,” she says, and Jurian spends the entire rest of the day forcing himself to relive all the good memories he has of Miryam to prove to himself, to Amarantha, to everyone, how very much not glad he is.

----

Given that Andromache is going to die in less than half a day, she is surprisingly calm. She spent the last days settling all the needs to be settled. She visited her mother and all her remaining family, met up with any close friends and wrote a few letters that are meant to be opened only after her death. Most of the meetings went well. Her mother didn’t want to let her go at the end, hugging her again and again which just made it harder for Andromache to leave, but at the end of the day, she feels that all of the meetings were a success.

Her people are not yet entirely settled in, but her successor will see to that. Everyone will be provided for, and Andromache is sure that Ania is a good choice as a successor, someone who will govern fairly and wisely for the years to come. Everything is settled. She isn’t leaving any loose ends behind.

With only five hours to spare before she wants to meet the other queens, though, she suddenly finds herself with nothing left to do. Everything is settled, but Andromache still feels like she needs act, to somehow do one last thing even if she doesn’t know what. Her hours are so limited now, she can’t help the feeling that she ought to be using them to their fullest extent.

Yanis eventually finds her wandering through the palace aimlessly. He doesn’t say a word, just takes her by the arm and leads her to one of the gardens. They sit down amongst two rose bushes. With autumn approaching, the flowers are raining petals on the pathway. With a start, Andromache realizes that she will never see roses in full bloom again.

She swallows against the sudden tightness in her throat. In all the last months, she avoided thinking about all that dying entails. She thought about the fact that she has to die plenty, of course, but she never really allowed herself to contemplate what that means. And there were a million different things to consider, her people and the evacuations and the final council meetings keeping her so busy that she simply didn’t have time to think about it.

Now she does, though, and she doesn’t like it at all. Like most people in the world, Andromache doesn’t want to die. There are so many things she still wants to do. She would like to see Angolere rebuilt south of the wall, and see her people thrive. Should it ever become possible, she would like children of her own, and a partner to grow old with should she find someone she can imagine spending her life with. She once thought it might be Mor, but it wasn’t, and she would have liked to have the time to find someone else.

Maybe she should have asked Miryam what dying feels like. But no, that would just have made Miryam feel worse about the entire situation. Besides, she doubts bleeding out from a spear to the chest feels anything like being consumed by a spell.

She supposes at least she get to see another sunrise, as they chose dawn as the time to cast their spell. Hopefully, the morning won’t be cloudy so she will get to see the sun one last time.

Slowly, Yanis takes her hand. His rough, callused fingers squeeze hers.

“Remember our first mission, when we were rooky soldiers together?” He asks.

“When we were sent out to chase that band or faeries that had attacked the village?” Andromache asks, a smile tugging at her lips. “And you idiot thought you could get into a fistfight with one of these lion-wolf-mixture things and win?”

“It knocked my sword out of my hand!” Yanis objects. “I was panicking.”

“Lucky for you I still had both my sword and my senses, or that thing would have taken your head off.”

Yanis grins, but his smile soon fades. “Anni, I – “

A messenger bursts into the garden, nearly stumbling over his feet in his haste to bow to Andromache. “Your Majesty,” he says, holding out a letter to her. “From Queen Nakia. She said to deliver this to you.”

Frowning, Andromache takes the letter. She sees no reason why Nakia would write her a letter now, not when they are both going to die together in a few hours. She breaks the seal and unfolds the parchment.

Dear Andromache,

If all goes according to the plan, this letter will be delivered to you by midnight, which means that by then, it will be too late for you to change anything about any of it. I apologize for lying to you, but I didn’t think you would agree with my plan, and I had to do what I thought best for our people. I hope that you will be able to forgive my ploys.

For all that I believe we have all chosen worthy successors, it would be irresponsible to leave our people without any experienced leaders in a time like this. We couldn’t all die, and I trust that you and the others who remain will keep our people safe and lead them into a bright future.

It has been my honour to work with you in the last nine years.

Your friend,

Nakia

----

Queen Nakia of Scythia considers herself a practical woman. As such, it became clear to her quickly that robbing the humans of their entire leadership in one go would be a very, very bad idea. Admittedly, it was her bad idea, and at the time where she suggested it, it might not have been so bad at all, but now, there is simply no way sacrificing all six queens in one go is the right thing to do. Not when it would bring instability to their people in a situation as precarious as this one.

Fortunately, Nakia listened closely when Miryam initially explained the spell to them all. Back then, she said that the spell would work not only for the people it was tied to, but also for any close relatives. Some reading in books stolen from abandoned Fae libraries confirmed quickly enough that any close relatives to the other queens would work just as well as sacrifices.

It was not difficult to find people willing to step in for the other queens. Andromache’s mother. Sehline’s older brother. Mije’s uncle. Kjani’s grandmother. Only for Leline, there was no one since her entire family had died two years ago during an attack, so she is in the forest where they met to cast the spell along with the others.

Some part of Nakia feels bad for going behind the other queens’ backs like this. They will not be grateful to her for sparing them at the expense of their loved ones, but she is not doing it for their sakes. No, glad as she is that Andromache and the others will get to live, she is doing this solely for her country.

As for herself… Well, she had plenty of relatives of her own she might have asked, but she didn’t. A child should not die for its mother, nor a grandchild for its grandmother, and while Elmira is still young and inexperienced, Andromache and the others will easily able to support her through the initial years queen, just as Nakia herself did for so many others.

She had a long life, and a good one. For forty years, she ruled her country, kept her people safe. She watched her children and grandchildren grow up. Now, she gets to die knowing that her people will be forever free from slavery, never forced to fear the Fae again.

It is good, she thinks as she sketches symbols she does not understand into the earth around her, following the instructions Miryam left closely. The moon is standing high above in the sky.

Nakia finishes the last symbol and turns to face the others. “Shall we?” She asks.

They all look back at her. Some are crying, others firm. They all nod, though.

Nakia turns to look up at the moon. Slowly, she begins to recite the spell, keeping her gaze fixed on the moon above. It is the last thing she sees.

----

Miryam isn’t sleeping. She is lying in bed fully clothed, head resting on Drakon’s shoulder and his arm wrapped around her. When she senses the magical tremor running through the air, she sits up bolt upright.

“What happened?” Drakon asks, sitting up as well.

Miryam shakes her head, gasping. She can still feel the magic thick in the air, pulsing like a second heartbeat. It is not a pleasant sensation. And there, miles and miles away, she can sense something else. A barrier running through the world, cleaving it in two.

“It’s too early,” she whispers, stretching out her senses to investigate that new barrier. It is too far away for her to get a proper read, though. “Andromache said dawn.”

“The wall?” Drakon asks, turning around to her.

“Yes,” Miryam says slowly. She swings her legs over the bed’s edge and walks towards the door to the tiny hut they are sleeping in. She looks outside over the sleeping camp, as if to assure herself that they are still there. “The wall is in place now.”

----

A/N: So, this is not the last chapter after all. There will still be an epilogue coming, set 10 years after the wall went up, to wrap up some loose strings and also just... generally end on a positive note. That is obviously hard to do in the direct aftermath of basically 7+ years of extremely traumatizing events, but I do want to give off a HOPEFUL expression of the future, so an epilogue it is.

Tags: @croissantcitysucks @femtopulsed @aileywrites

#NOT the last chapter after all. we'll have an epilogue still #but the last part of the main story #very excited for everyone's reactions #the epilogue will be happier i promise #before the wall #miryam #jurian #drakon

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mellowswriting · 4 years ago

Note

Congrats on 100! For the requests can you write something with Marcus Pike where he never knew the reader had tattoos because her ex hated them so she covers them up with their clothing. I hope its not too specific or odd ❤ (Sorry if this sent multiple times, im having internet issues)

Ink

pairing || Marcus Pike x Reader

summary || Marcus discovers your tattoos - and why you hid them from him.

word count || 1,546

warnings || shitty ex, kinda hurt/comfort

Main Masterlist | Join the taglist

Your day, put simply, was going absolutely shittily.

First, you woke up feeling amazingly well rested. Sounds like a great thing, right? No. Unbeknownst to you, your phone charger became unplugged and your phone had died overnight. Without your alarms to get you up and caffeinated, you were left to scramble into your office attire and out the door with a frazzled mind and zero coffee in hand. You knew better than to try to tackle what was starting as a difficult day without the energy boost, so you bit the bullet and stopped at a café on your way to work.

Foolishly, you thought your morning was looking up when you made it through the line in record time - until you took a sip of your coffee and simultaneously burned the everloving hell out of your tongue and learned that your order was not only incorrect, but entirely undrinkable. The attitude in which you dropped the to go cup into the trash outside of FBI headquarters could’ve brought the entire building down, but that was neither here nor there. You couldn’t find it in you to be frustrated with the sweet baristas at the café - they were overwhelmed with the morning rush, after all. No, your frustration was placed solely on the universe.

In a last ditch effort to save your morning, you stopped by the break room for a cup of shitty office coffee to take back into your little office. You were frazzled enough that the team didn’t stop you on your march through the bullpen. With the blinds open to let the early morning sunshine warm your back, you settled at your desk and finally took what felt like the first somewhat calm breath since you opened your eyes. You grabbed your worn notepad and began jotting down the list of tasks you had to get done that day, grateful that it was mostly humdrum paperwork and not anything grueling. You wouldn’t have had the spoons for that.

There was something about having each of your responsibilities laid out and ready for you to tackle that made you feel much better. A small light at the end of the tunnel. You took a deep breath and began filling out your latest case reports, your practiced fingers flying over the keys of your laptop. Of course, in true fashion, the universe decided to put you in your place. You reached for your coffee, eyes still on the laptop screen, and severely misjudged the distance and managed to tip the cup over.

“Son of a bitch!” You hissed, shooting out of your seat at the bite of hot coffee dripping down your front. Instinct had you ripping your blazer off and pulling at the buttons of your blouse, desperate to get the soaked fabric away from your skin. At least you were wearing a tank top beneath it, even though it was thin enough to be almost see through. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Three quick knocks rapped against your door and you didn’t even have to guess who it was - Marcus Pike, your coworker, good friend and his latest title - boyfriend. He never strayed in his little patterned knocking, something you found endearing even when you were having a comically bad morning.

“Come on in, Marcus!” You called out as you dug around in your drawers for the wipes you kept there. Marcus entered with a bright smile that faltered slightly at your disheveled state. Your tone is almost sarcastic as you continue. “Good morning.”

“Oh, honey.” Marcus said, quickly closing the door behind him before anyone could catch a glimpse of you sliding your blouse off. The dark, intricate lines inked into your skin caught his eye immediately but he didn’t let his gaze linger.

He couldn’t lie - he had noticed the constant long-sleeved blouses and sweaters you wore, but didn’t pry. If you had something you wanted to hide from the world, Marcus was sure you would tell him when you were ready to. But now that he knew it was just what appeared to be some amazing tattoos, he was a bit confused. They were beautiful. Why would you want to hide them?

You were obviously having a hard time. The hard set of your jaw and scrunched state of your eyebrows would have been enough to tell him that even if he wasn’t watching you try to clean the coffee from your skin with a pack of wet wipes. Your hair wasn’t tied back like it usually would. Instead it hung loose around your shoulders, falling in your face every now and then and making you huff in annoyance.

Annoyed, sticky, and absolutely over the day, and you still looked god damn ethereal. How did he get so lucky?

“How can I help?” Marcus asked as he rounded your desk and you gave him a grateful smile.

“Can you grab the extra shirt from the cupboard? Thank god I have a back up at least.” If there was one thing you could always count on, it was Marcus Pike being the best man on Earth. You smiled when he handed you the clean shirt before he began wiping your desk clean. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Of course,” Marcus tossed the soiled wipes into your trashcan, grinning and pumping his arm animatedly when they went in. What an adorable dork. He ran his hands up and down your biceps gently and you almost shivered at the warmth of his palms. “What happened?”

“Coffee has betrayed me at every turn this morning.” You pouted again as you leaned into his chest. The sight of Marcus staring down at you with that concerned, loving gaze made fluttering erupt in your belly.

“So I suppose I shouldn’t ask if you want to get some with me for lunch, huh?” Marcus asked with that breathtaking mischievous smile and you couldn’t help but crack up at him. His thumbs rubbed circles into your skin and you glanced down, watching his fingertip run over the lines of your tattoo. You realized with a jolt that he had never seen them before.

Your body art was something you loved - you didn’t spend endless hours in a chair getting stabbed with needles a million times for nothing. The dark swirls of ink were intricate, something that you used to be complimented on often. Until your ex came along, of course. It wasn’t as if you hid them from him. No, he was well aware that you had tattoos and planned to get more, so when he asked you to cover them up before going out one night you had been confused, and then pissed.

Who the hell had he been to tell you to hide a part of yourself that you loved?

Those subtle requests morphed into small jabs and complaints. Over time, you began covering them by habit, trying to avoid the whole mess altogether. It wasn’t worth arguing about, you convinced yourself. Once he tried to convince you to get them removed? No, that was the last straw. Even though he wasn’t even a blip on your radar, you still found yourself keeping them covered, a small, insecure voice in your head warning you of a threat that was no longer there.

You held your arm out, giving him silent permission to openly follow the linework, and Marcus took the opportunity with a smile. His touch was as gentle as ever, up and down your arm from piece to piece. “Sorry, I know they aren’t everyone’s cup of tea,”

“Do you like them?” The question catches you off guard but you nod immediately. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind about their importance to you or their beauty. Marcus shrugged. “Nothing else matters then.”

Tension you hadn’t even realized you had been holding melted away from your chest. The way he looked at you… it was the same appreciation and intensity he reserved for the artwork obtained by the team, his gaze hungry for every detail he had the honor of seeing firsthand.

“Do you like them?” You whispered, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“They’re beautiful.” Marcus doesn’t miss a beat. “I’d love to hear the stories behind them, if there are any.”

“Yeah, there are a few.” You guided his hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles before settling back on your arm, your chest thick with an emotion you couldn’t quite name. Marcus immediately began following the lines again and you chuckled. “You really like them, huh?”

“Honestly? I think they’re sexy.” Marcus murmured as he pulled you against his chest by your waist and you positively flushed. The image of Marcus’s tongue tracing your tattoos enveloped you unbiddenly. You bit back a groan - that man was going to be the death of you.

You pressed up on your tiptoes and kissed him. The woes of your morning faded into the background at the delighted sound he gave against your lips, one hand abandoning your waist to hold you steady at your jaw. You draped your arms over his shoulders and lost yourself in his warmth, his comfort. There wasn’t a thing in this world that Marcus couldn’t make better with a few soft words and a gentle touch.

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x y/n #marcus pike x you #marcus pike the mentalist #marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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vs-redemption · 4 years ago

Text

From Cindy: I’ve been in a horrible mood the past few days for literally no reason. For some reason, I’ve also been thinking about Oikawa. So I wrote this.

Cranky (Friend!Oikawa x Grumpy!Reader)

You weren’t sure how or why, but you had somehow woken up with a bug up your ass that morning. Ordinarily you were a decently approachable person, but the first sign of trouble was when one of your university roommates greeted you cheerfully and it felt more like someone poking at an exposed nerve than a warm hello. Somehow, you managed to force a smile and wave back despite the less than friendly retorts threatening to spill from your lips. The surge of unprovoked anger caught you off guard, and you knew you had to do something fast if you wanted to make it through the day without physically assaulting someone for no reason.

On your way to your first class, you stopped by the vending machines to get a canned coffee and granola bar, hoping to calm the raging monster inside of you by putting some food in your belly. Hunger did not seem to be the root of the problem though because you couldn’t make it even fifteen minutes through your lecture before getting the urge to set the entire building on fire. Your poor professor was trying so hard to plant knowledge in your brain, but just the sound of his voice made you want to box your own ears. You excuse yourself from the class as politely as possible and make a beeline towards one of the empty picnic tables on the campus grounds. Luckily, nobody was hanging around outside since it was chilly day with light drizzling rain that came on and off in spurts. You sat down on the damp seat, flipped your hood over your head, and tried to think of happy thoughts.

For a moment, you are able to empty your mind but the sound of your name cutting through the static background noise of wind and distant talking pulls you back to reality. You look up and grimace at the tall familiar figure of your friend tiptoeing awkwardly across the wet grass towards you, holding an umbrella over his head to protect his hair from the rain. He comes to stand over you with a calculating look of concern on his face.

“I thought I saw you sitting over here,” he tilts his head and puts a hand to his chin. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class right now?” There was only innocent curiosity in his question, but the slight whine of his voice made you want to strangle him.

“Go away Oikawa,” you bite out the words as nonaggressive as possible, but you can tell you failed by the pout on your friend’s pretty face.

“That’s not very nice,” he huffs. “And what’s with the last name, huh? Did I do something to make you mad?”

“No!” You accidentally snap, quickly closing your eyes and taking a deep breath through your nose. When you look back at Oikawa his big chocolate brown eyes are wide in shock.

“No,” you repeat more calmly. “You didn’t do anything. I’m just a cranky bear today.”

“Well that’s not good,” His face turns sympathetic for a moment before reverting to fear when you throw a deadly glare in his direction. “Okay!” He puts up a hand in surrender and smiles sheepishly. “I’ll leave you alone then, but can you at least promise me you’ll come out of the rain? We don’t want you catching a cold!”

“Yeahhh,” you could at least agree to that much. “Fine.” You knew he was right and that you shouldn’t be sitting out in the cold, so you lift yourself off the wet picnic table bench, the damp feeling on your bottom providing an extra helping onto the growing mountain of annoyance.

“Ok, on your way.” Oikawa’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he gently shoos you in the direction of your dormitory with an overly kind smile. You turn around to glare at him over your shoulder.

“I’m going!” You tell him sharply, “You don’t have to push me!” Oikawa quickly retracts his hand, letting out a nervous laugh.

“Hmm, you definitely woke up on the wrong side of the bed today,” he hums your name thoughtfully. “Try to feel better though, okay?”

You resist the urge to give him the finger as you set off, more to put distance between you both now than to get out of the icky weather. You knew Oikawa meant well, and normally you’d be more than happy to spend time with him. The last thing you wanted to do was give him a hard time since you knew he got enough of that from his teammates on the volleyball team.

When you get back to your room, you peel off your wet clothes and throw on a pair of pajamas, determined to spend the rest of the day in seclusion. Hopefully after some rest you’d default back to your normal personality settings and not have to worry about biting anyone’s head off. You plop down at your computer desk and pull up the mellowest playlist you can find before cracking open the textbook of the class you’d ditched. Not much times passed at all before three loud knocks had you glaring at the door. You consider just ignoring the visitor until they got the hint, but then you heard Oikawa’s familiar voice cooing your name from the other side.

“What?!” you nearly rip the door off its hinges, feeling prepared to give your poor friend an earful. Your words die on your tongue though when you see him holding out a peace offering. It was a steaming cup of tea and your favorite bagel sandwich from the campus café. Before you can remember to yell at him, he pushes the gifts into your hands and lets himself into your room.

“Tooru?” You were at a loss for what to say as you watch him walk over to your desk and start clearing away your books and assignments. “Tooru, what the hell are you doing?”

“Ah, it’s good to hear my name again,” He says teasingly, watching your face for any signs that you might attack. “But I still sense some hostility. Go ahead and eat your snack and we’ll see how you feel after that.” He situates himself on the beanbag chair on the floor and starts scrolling through his phone silently, giving you your space. You eye him for a moment, wondering if he really planned on staying quiet. You unwrap the sandwich and slowly start to munch it down, sipping on the hot tea after every couple bites.

“Tooru,” you try to strike up a conversation again once you finish eating, but Oikawa simply smiles and holds a finger to his lips.

“Shh,” he stands up and walks over to your bed to pull back your blankets. You look at him as if he’d lost his mind, but he just gestures for you to climb in. You weren’t sure what exactly was happening but decided to play long out of curiosity.

“Are you seriously tucking me in?” You ask, a small laugh escaping your lips as he pulls the blanket up to your chin dramatically.

“And there’s a smile,” he says victoriously before reaching down to pat you on the head. “Who knew a cranky bear could look so adorable?”

“I…” your face heats up at the words that had rendered you speechless. Oikawa simply turns around and starts gathering up the empty wrappers from your sandwich to throw them away.

“How are you still single?” You blurt out the question before it even finishes processing in your brain. Oikawa’s head swivels around to look at you in surprise.

“Uh,” he reaches up to scratch at the back of his head in embarrassment. “I’ve been told it’s because I spend too much time playing volleyball.” You scrunch up your face at his explanation and Oikawa fears he’s somehow triggered your wrath again.

“Well, if you’re comfortable, I guess I’ll be going now!” He chuckles awkwardly.

“Wait,” you say before he can get too far.

“Yes?” he tilts his head, “do you need something else?”

“Uh,” you avert your eyes. “Stay?”

The request throws Oikawa off completely and you see his confidence waver slightly.

“You actually want me to?” He asks skeptically. You raise your eyebrows at him challengingly, even though you weren’t very intimidating anymore now that you looked all cute and bundled up. You lift up the blanket as an invitation, making Oikawa look even less sure.

“Are you luring me in so you can kill me?” he asks jokingly.

“Just get over here,” what little patience you’d built up was gone again, but at least the snap in your tone had gotten Oikawa moving. He kicks off his shoes and carefully slides under the covers next to you.

“You know, I never expected such bold behavior from you,” he says playfully in his slightly whiny tone, his nervousness disappearing for a moment.

“Let’s go back to being quiet now,” you reply while closing your eyes and settling in.

“Jeez, that’s not very nice,” Oikawa huffs, eliciting another giggle from you. He sighs dramatically but takes his chances at being scolded further by snaking an arm around you to pull you closer. When there are no signs of protest from you, his body relaxes and he hums happily.

“Hey Tooru,” you whisper after a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being nice to me even though I’m grumpy,” you mumble into his chest.

“No need to thank me,” He assures you while tucking your head under his chin and rubbing your back softly. “You’re as important to me as my teammates, you know? So, just like with them, I have to set you up for success and make sure you’re playing at one hundred percent.”

Even though it was a cheesy volleyball metaphor, you couldn’t help but find Oikawa’s admission to be very sweet. You’d known for a while that his volleyball friends sometimes underestimated or misjudged him due to his bizarre mannerisms, but perhaps you hadn’t known him as well as you’d thought either. It was kind of amazing that he could make you feel so warm and content on a day where you’d woken up feeling so moody and agitated. It was a new side of Oikawa that had you looking at him in a different way. Hopefully, when you woke up, you’d feel a bit better so that you could explore that side of him even more.

#tooru oikawa x reader #oikawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #Tooru Oikawa #Haikyuu #Cindy's Writing

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refinedbuffoonery · 4 years ago

Text

Flawless (4)

masterlist.

Content Warning: swearing, violence, sex, PTSD

Short update this week! I just started a new semester, and I’m taking a maximum credit load, so it’s very possible that a) there won’t be an update next weekend b) updates will be every other weekend instead of every weekend for a while. We’ll see how it goes. Thank you so much for all your love and support!

*****

Riley woke to Kalei’s lips on the back of her neck. “Good morning,” she hummed.

“Morning, gorgeous.” Kalei’s hands explored Riley’s body as he spooned her, slowly waking her nerves with each touch. Eventually touching turned to kissing, kissing to making out, and making out to bodies writhing between the sheets and loud moans echoing throughout the apartment.

Riley couldn’t remember the last time she had a one night stand this good. Maybe never.

When they finally parted, Riley pulled on a black silk robe and headed to the kitchen to make coffee for them both while Kalei showered.

She nearly had a heart attack when she realized she wasn’t alone. Desi sat on one of the barstools looking pissed as hell, and Riley instantly regretted ever giving that woman a key. “How long have you been here?” she demanded.

“Too long.”

“Pervert.” Riley turned her back on her unwelcome guest and resumed her coffee mission.

“I take it you had fun last night,” Desi said coolly. “Considering you brought it home with you.”

“I did.” Riley smirked. “Coffee?” Desi shook her head.

Before she could say anything else, Riley’s fun entered the kitchen. “Oh,” Kalei said, noticing Desi. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Nope,” Riley said sweetly at the same time Desi growled, “Yes.”

Kalei’s gaze flicked between the two women, clearly confused about where to go from here. “Uhh—”

“Why don’t you give us a minute.” Desi gave him an icy smile.

Riley whirled on her friend, glaring. “You don’t tell him what to do. He is my guest. You, on the other hand, are not.”

Hands raised in surrender, Kalei backed off anyway, stuttering, “I’m gonna go.” He made a beeline for the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

“You didn’t have to be so rude.”

“You know why I’m here?” Desi snapped.

Riley sighed, crossing her arms. “Why?”

“Because I got home from work at three in the morning and found Nikki in my bed, with my girlfriend. And then I got in trouble for waking them up because apparently, Nikki had just calmed down from her rage fit because you ditched everyone during your little girls’ night!”

Taking a sip of her coffee to hide her annoyance, Riley replied, “Nikki literally watched me buy a new box of condoms when we went shopping the other day. She shouldn’t be surprised.”

Desi rolled her eyes. “She’s not mad about you hooking up with some guy, you idiot. She’s mad because you were supposed to be showing the new girl the ropes and then you just left. I suggest you put on your big girl pants and apologize before Nikki decides to replace you.”

“She can’t.” Riley leaned back against the counter. “The Five Eyes are my team.”

Desi raised an eyebrow. “With that attitude? Not for much longer.”

“So what, you’re here just to scold me like you’re my mom?”

“No. I’m here because I’m your friend, and because everyone else thinks you need to be knocked off your high horse.”

A beat. “And you? What do you think?”

“I think you need help. I think prison affected you way more than you’re letting on, and I think you still hold a grudge against Nikki for getting you arrested in the first place, whether you realize it or not.”

Riley was silent. If those words had come from anyone else, she would’ve been seeing red, but it was different coming from Desi. There was more...weight to them. More truth. Desi wasn’t the most forthcoming person in the world, but she also wasn’t a liar.

“Okay,” Riley said slowly. “What do you suggest I do about it?”

“Talk to someone. Preferably a therapist.” Desi sighed. “But if that’s too scary, you can start by talking to me. I’ve been where you are.”

“What are you talking about? You’ve never been convicted for any of your crimes.”

“I’m talking about PTSD, Riley. I have it, and I’m willing to bet you do too.”

Riley caught her shoulders caving in and quickly straightened up. Don’t show weakness, she reminded herself. “You don’t talk about it.”

“I talk about it with Sam.”

It was Riley’s turn to roll her eyes. “Whatever,” she snarked.

“It’s not whatever, and you know it.”

Riley was over this conversation. “Can I get back to the very hot man in my bed now?”

Desi almost looked sad as she stood. “Please, just...think about what I said.” She walked out the door without another word, leaving Riley with nothing but Desi’s echoing words as company.

*****

Riley sat across from Jill on her couch, laptop mirroring the schematics of the Louvre onto the T.V. Slouched into the black leather cushions, Riley’s casual posture didn't match the way her eyes narrowed as she studied the screen. It looked like she was pouting, but Riley didn’t care. Beside her, Jill did the opposite—sitting up straight, eyes calmly taking in the information on the screen.

"How would you do it?" Riley asked.

"Huh?"

Riley turned her attention to Jill. "If you were planning to rob the most secure museum in the world, how would you do it?"

Jill pursed her lips, thinking. She stood, stepping closer to the T.V. "I would do it on a crowded day for more cover. The bigger the crowd, the better. And I wouldn't take something crazy famous that people would immediately realize was missing.” I wouldn’t take the French Crown Jewels, she clearly meant. Riley ignored the implied questioning of her judgement, giving Jill a free pass, but only because she was new.

“Go on,” Riley urged.

“The way I see it, there’s two ways we could do this. The first way, we do it in broad daylight, disguised as employees. Make up some documentation that the item needs to be moved for some reason. By the time someone figures us out, we’ll be long gone.”

Not bad, Riley thought. But she knew firsthand that Jill’s plan wasn’t as easy as she made it sound. “And the other way?”

“Cut the power, create chaos, grab it and run.”

A small grin curved Riley’s lips. “I like your style.” A plan started to form in her mind. Cutting the power would not only provide darkness as a cover, but it would also disable all of the security systems in place. All they’d have to do is get out unseen before the power was restored.

“So how do we put the jewels on the black market?” Jill asked, sitting back down. “It seems to me that we might as well just tattoo ‘I did it’ onto our foreheads if we’re going to be that obvious.”

Riley smirked. “Don’t worry about that. I can keep us completely anonymous. We’ll get our money with no one the wiser.”

Crossing one leg under her, Jill said, “So you really don’t have an ulterior motive, do you? This is just plain old doing crime for money.” She fidgeted with the hem of her jeans as she spoke.

“Yep. I like it that way. All I have to lose is a shit ton of money I don’t need.”

“But if you’re the insanely talented hacker Nikki said you are, then why don’t you work for the government or something?” She pushed up her oversized glasses. “Why not use your skills for good?”

“I have no interest in wasting my life behind a desk.”

Pressing on, she said, “Then become a spy or something. I’m pretty sure the CIA hires nerds like you.” Eyes widening, Jill realized her mistake as soon as the words left her lips.

“Nerds like me, huh?” Riley toyed, enjoying Jill’s discomfort. The blonde’s confidence was always so short-lived. “I’m just a common criminal,” Riley said in a low, confident tone. “I get my rush from stealing stuff. Do you know where the CIA gets it’s rush?” Jill shook her head. “From toppling foreign governments and premeditated murder.” A pause. “I’m a lot of things, Jill Morgan, but a murderer is not one of them.”

Jill seemed to think it over for a few seconds before murmuring, “You might not be a murderer, but you are anything but a common criminal, Riley Davis.”

Silence.

The moment passed, and Jill looked more confused than ever. Riley fed her empty answer after empty answer, but it seemed the new recruit saw right through her facade to the impenetrable wall between the real Riley and the world. For a long time, that wall was her only source of safety, and Riley wasn’t too keen on taking it down. Especially not with someone new.

Clearly Jill hadn’t figured that out yet. “What am I missing?” she probed. Jill studied Riley like she could see right through the wall if she just looked hard enough. Riley didn’t like it. “I know why I’m here. You’re still trying to decide whether to trust me.” She paused. “But what you haven’t done is give me a reason to trust you.”

“You trust Nikki,” Riley said matter of factly. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

“That’s true. But Nikki isn’t the one walking around like the living embodiment of a loaded gun.” Riley arched a brow in challenge, and surprisingly, Jill didn’t back down this time. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out you’ve been gone for a while, and I bet your friend leaving the team had something to do with that. So tell me, what am I missing?”

Sucking her teeth, Riley shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

With way more authority than she actually had, Jill said, “I’m going to refill my water bottle, and when I get back I expect an explanation.”

“And when you don’t get said explanation?”

“Then I will walk out that door and rat you all out to my friends at LAPD.” Taken aback by the threat, Riley said nothing. The coldness in Jill’s eyes and the set of her jaw made Riley think she wasn’t bluffing. Riley managed to school her face into neutrality, but her hand twitched, and Jill saw it. And suddenly they both knew Riley was backed into a corner she couldn’t get out of—not without this becoming very messy, anyway.

Perhaps she had misjudged Jill completely.

The thirty seconds it took Jill to fill her water wasn’t enough time for Riley to improvise her escape. Begrudgingly, she settled for the truth. “You want to know where I’ve been? Fine. I was in prison for the last two years. I’ve been out for almost a week.”

“Why.” It was more of a demand than a question.

“During our last job, Nikki and Leanna—who you’re replacing—got caught. I bailed them out. Everyone else made it out just fine, and I got arrested.”

Jill’s expression softened. “You sacrificed yourself for them,” she said, almost in awe. “Do you regret it?”

Riley swallowed. Her pre-prison self would’ve rescued her friends—her family—every time, without a second thought. But after prison...she would rather die than go back. Jill looked at her expectantly, awaiting an answer.

Telling Jill wasn’t the same as telling the others. She’s practically a stranger. But the others...telling them would make it all real. So in a rare moment of honesty, Riley finally admitted, “Sometimes.”

A beat. “Thank you for telling me.”

The air was thick with the murky truth Riley had revealed—and the implications that went with it. Confessing didn’t make her feel any better. Mostly Riley just felt like she’d lost something she could never get back.

“So in a big crowd, huh?” Riley said to break the tension.

The unreadable expression lingered for a moment before Jill finally looked away with a muttered “Uh, yeah.” She mindlessly pushed up her glasses with her middle finger. A nervous habit, Riley realized. Jill babbled, “I heard that some designer is renting the Louvre for an afterparty during Fashion Week. Apparently they’re unveiling some diamond and sapphire jewelry set at the party, in the same room that holds the French Crown Jewels. I think that it’s super tacky comparing something new to something so old and beautiful, but supposedly the new jewels are worth millions.”

A thought began forming in Riley’s head. “How many million?”

“Hundreds.”

Nodding her approval, Riley said, “That’s not a bad idea, Blondie.”

Jill seemed almost comically lost. “Idea?” she questioned. “What idea?”

“Since you all hated my crown jewels plan, why don’t we get the next best thing?”

Her eyes widened in understanding. “Oh.”

Riley asked, “Where did you hear about the party anyway?” Jill chewed her lower lip, hesitating, but Riley didn’t have much patience these days. “Well?” she demanded.

“Nikki.”

Of course that’s who she heard it from. Nikki kept up with the fashion industry like her life depended on it. “I see,” Riley said. So much for escaping awkward conversations.

“You should talk to her,” Jill blurted. “I know things are weird between you right now, but they won’t get better by doing nothing.”

Riley hated how small her voice sounded when she whispered, “I know.”

~ Tag List ~ (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

@macrileyedits / @hellishrose / @incorret-macgyver-quotes / @mylifequotesshowallofthem / @thecarrieonokay

#beth writes #flawless au #macgyver #riley davis #nikki carpenter #desiree nguyen #samantha cage #jill morgan #macgyver fanfiction

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captainillogical · 5 years ago

Text

Distant Lands Ch.15

Stranded on a planet with toxic conditions and nothing but the clothes on your back, your only means of survival lies within the gem that got you here in the first place.

Spinel/Reader

collab with my lovely wife @firstofficertightpants

You’re floating.

Well, it seems like floating, for the most part, because you can’t really feel anything.

It's dark, and you can't see anything around you. You feel like you're drifting in your weightlessness, slowly, the warm, inky darkness all around is actually kind of calming.

You hear something.

It's a voice. Feminine, and familiar - you don't recognize it immediately. It's calling out to you, you think. You aren't really sure. You aren't really able to focus on it.

Suddenly, there's light all around you and you're standing in a field you've never seen before. There's a single tree on a small hill about twenty feet in front of you, and you're surrounded by tall grass.

Everything is.. pink. Huh. You're very confused.

"Wake up." You hear a voice say from behind you, distinct and clear as day.

You turn around, but there's nothing there. Just an endless field.

"Huh." You hear yourself saying out loud.

You turn back around to the tree, and there's something large in front of you. You nearly scream from being startled, but manage to only make a tiny noise of surprise - muffling your mouth with your hand.

A gentle, knowing chuckle erupts from the vaguely outlined pink figure in front of you.

"I didn't mean to startle you, I was only trying to get your attention." She says. You think you've heard this voice.. once or twice? You can't pinpoint it.

"Where am I?" You reply, feeling no threat from her.

"That isn't important."

"Why am I here? How am I here?" You ask, because these fields are endless, and you're having a hard time remembering what you were doing before this.

"You're here because someone desperately wanted you alive." The figure does not move.

"What does that mean?" You inquire, confused. “Am I dead?”

"It means you need to wake up. You have been here a while." The voice replies, a curious sway to it. It's so familiar, and yet you cannot grasp it.

"How do I wake up if I don't even know I'm asleep?" You look up to the head of the figure, outline blurry to your eyes.

"Like this, I think?" She giggles softly, tone almost.. motherly.

"Like what?" You hear yourself say, and when you blink your eyes she's suddenly gone.

There's no one in the field around you.

There's just miles and miles of long, swaying grass as far as the eye can see.

You feel a pull in your stomach.

You wake up and open your eyes - immediately seeing there are several pairs of eyes peering down at you, gasps filling the room.

“You’re awake!” Steven shouts, tears in his eyes. “I was so terrified you weren’t going to wake up.”

You feel bile rising in your throat. You need to vomit.

You get up from your position on the couch, and you can see that you’re back in Steven’s living room. You shrug off Garnet’s hand on your arm, and ignore the protesting voices in the room to run to the bathroom, slamming the door behind yourself and locking it.

Running to the sink, you hurl mostly saliva into the basin for a solid minute or two as you leave the water in the sink running. Your head is blank, as you’re mainly trying to get your insides to stop convulsing. You watch the water pour down the drain. Your hands are shaking. You cup some of the cold water in your hands and splash it on your face - it helps, a little. You grab the towel hung up on the rack beside you to dry your face, and when you open your eyes, the reflection staring back at you in the medicine cabinet makes your stomach drop.

You.. you’re pink.

Your face, your hair, your skin - all of it, is pink.

The scream that comes out of you is pretty embarrassing, you won’t lie. There’s frantic knocking on the bathroom door.

“Y/N, are you okay!?” Steven yells out from beyond the thin door, and you can hear him rattle and shake the doorknob. Thank fuck you locked it.

“DO I LOOK OKAY?!” You scream back, frozen in place as you stare at your reflection.

“...can I come in?” You hear him reply in a rushed, worried tone.

“God no, I need some time.” You can’t stop looking at the mirror. It’s so strange. There’s a fairly large scar running from your forehead to down the side of your face near your hairline that you don’t remember having?

“I’ll be out here when you’re ready then, okay? We’re all here.”

“Huuuuuuuuurgh.” Is all you can reply, rubbing at your eyes and blinking, but your reflection doesn’t change. You’re not dreaming. You hear his footsteps walking away, and you turn the faucet off while you gather your thoughts.

You died. Somehow.

You’re having a hard time remembering how you died. It’s kind of too much to think about right now, if you’re honest with yourself. You’ll unpack that later.

You feel like there is something wrong with your brain. Everything’s a bit fuzzy. The reflection that stares back at you looks rather filthy, honestly, so you go over to the shower to turn the water on. Might as well keep your hands busy.

You start to pull your shirt off when you realize you don’t have a change of clothes. What you’re wearing is torn to shreds and so dirty, but you don’t know why. What were you doing before?

Regardless, you walk back over to the door to unlock it, and open it just a crack.

“Steven, could you give me a change of clothes?” You half yell out into the other room, and close the door gently again in wait. You lean against the door and space out as you watch the bathroom fill with steam from the shower, the sound of running water the only thing your brain can focus on.

A minute or two later, there’s a knock on the door. You move from your leaning position to open the door a few inches, seeing Steven’s face there.

“Here.” He holds out a fresh pair of pants and a t-shirt that are nicely folded for you. Must’ve been Pearl. His eyes roam your face in concern, eyebrows furrowing. “Take your time. We can talk after this when you’re ready.”

“Thanks.” You reply, albeit a bit blankly. You feel like you’re a bit in a dissociative state that you’re unable to explain. You take the pile of clothes from his open palm.

“Do you want your cell phone?” He asks, pulling it out of his pocket to offer you. You nod, and take it from him.

“Appreciate it.” You say, and he watches your face for a brief second, eyes flickering between yours. And then he closes the door softly with a click.

You lock it.

You walk over to the sink, leaving your phone on the counter without a second thought. You place your clean clothes on the toilet lid, and take your clothes off, starting with your pants. They’re utterly filthy and torn in a few places, what the hell? You toss them over by the garbage can near the toilet. No point in keeping those.

You take off your shirt, and notice something weird.

There’s a.. scar on your stomach. It’s fairly large, but it’s healed. You don’t remember getting this at all. You’re so fucking confused right now.

You refuse to put any more thought into it, as it would be counterproductive anyway. You take the rest of your underwear off, and toss everything into a pile by the garbage can. None of it is salvageable. What the fuck were you doing?

You pull the shower curtain back, letting a cloud of steam wash over you. You get in one foot at a time, the bottom of this tub is missing the grip mat for some reason and you’d prefer not to fall on your ass. Once you’re underneath the stream, your shoulders sag in relaxation as the hot water runs down your body. You feel like you haven’t taken a shower in ages.

You grab the shampoo, scrubbing your hair down and rinsing that out. You pour way too much conditioner into your hand and figure fuck it, and slather your hair in that. You stand there for a moment, watching suds wash down the drain in a swirl.

You space out for a while. You’re not sure how long.

You take your time rinsing your hair of the conditioner. You notice dirt underneath your fingernails, when you normally keep them pretty clean. What the hell. You move to grab the bar of soap on the little shelf on your left, but misjudge a footstep - you slip, hands knocking all the bottles down to the tub in a loud crash as you hit your head on the side of the tub.

“Y/N!? ARE YOU OKAY IN THERE?” You hear Amethyst shout from outside the door.

“Peachy!” You yell back monotonously, seeing stars and groaning.

You sit up groaning, your head spinning. Hot water is pouring on you, running down your face and shoulders.

Suddenly you remember the petrified look Spinel gave you before you kissed her and pushed her away, and you freeze. Your breathing picks up, and you slam a hand over your mouth as you feel yourself retch again.

Spinel.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

You vomit again, violently this time. Nothing comes up, but your body convulses and makes you puke up bile, acid burning the inside of your throat. The hot water sprays down on you as you shake uncontrollably.

You remember everything. The gem eater, the tunnels, bleeding, dying. Spinel.

You’re back on Earth, and she isn’t here. You bite your tongue, holding back more retching that your body wants to torture you with.

You’re alive and off that fucking planet somehow, and Spinel isn’t here.

With shaking hands, you finish washing your body as you try to keep your crumbling composure. You turn off the water, and grab for the towel next to you. You let your hands do the work on autopilot as you try to fend off the impending breakdown.

You put your clothes on, mind spinning with thoughts about how Spinel either thinks you’re dead, or worse, that you abandoned her there. You try not to cry thinking about it. You remember sitting at that tree, but everything after that is a bit fuzzy. It hurts to think about Spinel rushing back to you with what she thinks is life saving materials - just for you to be gone and nowhere to be found. Unless she saw the ship coming down? God that’s - that’s worse - you think, her sprinting back to you desperately, and seeing the ship fly away.

She knows you wouldn’t leave her.

Right?

You’re going back for her. That isn’t even a question. You’re terrified of what she’s even thinking about right now. You just hope you can easily convince the gems and Steven that everything that happened a month ago when she took you - it’s different, she’s different, and not a threat anymore. You towel dry your hair quickly, and once you put the towel back on the rack you can hear strained, hushed whispering beyond the bathroom door.

You hear your name being spoken, and quietly you walk over to the door to press your ear against it.

“ - but, she’s-”

“-Golgotha, Garnet! She was on GOLGOTHA. I’m ASTONISHED she lasted at all there considering she’s human and-” Pearl hisses out, and you can hear someone clanking pots and pans in the kitchen.

“What’s Golgotha!?” You hear Amethyst frustratedly huff out, and a ‘SSHHHH’ coming from Pearl. “You guys never tell me anything!”

“You don’t know because it was a colony that failed before you even existed, Amethyst!”

“How did Spinel warp there?” You hear Garnet wonder out loud, concern in her voice. “I was pretty sure they stopped all possible travel to that place.”

Your eyes widen at the sound of Spinel’s name being spoken. They know who she is? They know Spinel!? Then maybe -

“She had to have bypassed-”

“She wouldn’t have-”

“How did a colony FAIL?” Amethyst blurts out, cutting everyone off.

“Will you keep your voice down!?” Pearl hisses out angrily. “It failed because a bunch of gems disappeared, and resources went missing. They didn’t want to take any chances on a dying planet anyway so they packed up and left.”

“Yellow forbade anyone from going back to it. She even went as far to turn off the warp pad access.” Garnet says quietly.

“None of that matters, guys. She’s home safe, and that’s what counts.” Steven speaks up from the kitchen. “I just.. don’t know how to approach her about-”

“Her dying?”

“Amethyst!” Pearl interjects, and you can hear the frustration in her voice.

“Yeah. I. I failed her. It should’ve been me guys. Then she wouldn’t have had to deal with Spinel, and she wouldn’t have-”

“Steven, we’ve been trying to tell you all day that it’s not your fault, buddy! Y/N knew what she was doing when she put herself in danger, you know how she is! Nothing would have convinced her otherwise!” Amethyst yells out at him.

“If only we were a little faster getting to her, ugh, I should’ve thought about our keychains sooner! Minutes could’ve changed everything!”

“It wouldn’t have changed the outcome.” Garnet says. “We got to her as fast as we could.”

“I’m surprised at how well she fought off Spinel, considering it took several hours to figure out where she was and to even get to her.” Pearl mentions offhandedly.

Your stomach drops.

What? Hours?

“She’s resilient. You taught her well.”

What does she mean, hours? That literally makes no sense.

“She shouldn’t have been in that position in the first place. Spinel wouldn’t have been able to kill me anyway, and I could’ve talked her out of whatever she was feeling,” Steven hisses out angrily. “I don’t know where she was when we found Y/N and picked her up, or if she managed to poof her, but if I had seen her after the damaged she did to Y/N, I don’t know if I could’ve held back-”

Oh my god, they think Spinel tried to kill you. Your stomach fills with dread on top of the massive amounts of confusion you feel.

“Steven chill, she’s home and safe.” Amethyst says. “Hopefully this is the last gem that tries to-”

Unable to deal with any of this, you grab for the door handle, swinging the door open wide to stare at the gems standing in the living room. Steven’s in the kitchen with a pan in his hands.

They’re all staring at you like they’ve just seen a ghost - minus Garnet, of course.

Steven almost drops his pan. “Y/N-”

“What do you mean it only took a couple hours for you to rescue me?” You say, voice as shaky as your sanity levels.

They all just stand there in silence, and you see Pearl’s wide eyes turn to Garnet and then trail back to you. The quietness around the living room is palpable.

“Y/N, I know this is a lot to take in..” Pearl stares at you like you’re about to keel over.

“No, that literally makes no fucking sense.” You say, feeling yourself close to hyperventilation. “I get that I died.”

“You’ve been through a lot today dude, I think you should sit down and rest.” Even Amethyst looks concerned.

“I’m fine.” You stare at all of them. “How long did it take for you to come get me?”

“I know that space has no concept of day and night, but it hasn’t been that long.” Amethyst says bluntly.

“You haven’t checked your phone, Y/N?” Steven asks, confused. “I know we’re normally faster than this, but it hasn’t been that long. Why are you so concerned with the time right now?”

“What?” You didn’t think of that. Ignoring the rest of what he said to quickly scramble for the phone you put into your jeans pocket. You open your lock screen, and what you see makes you drop your phone onto the ground with a clatter.

“Y/N?” You hear Steven say.

You’re frozen in shock.

That makes no sense.

Somehow. Somehow - the date displayed on your lock screen is just a day after Spinel had taken you.

“Is this a prank?” You laugh, once, dryly. You pick your phone up off the ground. “This isn’t funny.”

Steven’s eyebrows furrow worryingly. “No, why would we-”

“Then why have only a couple hours passed? I was there for weeks.” You interrupt him.

They all look at you like you’ve grown another head.

“Y/N. You’ve been through a lot - I think something must’ve-”

“NO.” You yell out. You’re close to insanity. “STEVEN, WEEKS PASSED WHILE I WAS THERE.”

Your voice echoes out all throughout the living room, bouncing off the walls as they all look at you like you’re absolutely nuts. Steven sets the pan down and walks over to you, but Garnet puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“I think you need to sleep, because you sound crazy right now.” Amethyst says.

“I’M NOT-” Your fingers dig into your scalp, you’re close to ripping your hair out in frustration. You’re not insane, you lived every singl- wait a second. Your scar. You quickly point to the scar Spinel gave you when she first arrived. “THIS! REMEMBER THIS? SPINEL HIT ME WITH HER SCYTHE? AND IT’S COMPLETELY HEALED NOW.”

“Er, since I revived you, it closed all your wounds.” Steven stares at you. “Are you su-”

“I,” Your face drops. They can’t not believe you. “My nails? They’re longer, and I-” You cut yourself off, feeling your brain stutter from overuse.

“Y/N.” Pearl says, and you look over to her perplexed face. “You say you were there for weeks? That does explain the condition you were in when we got to you, even if-.”

“How did you survive for weeks!?” Amethyst interjects. “When we saw you earlier, Spinel had you by the THROAT.”

“Yeah she initially brought me there as bait to kill Steven, but she didn’t try to kill me.” You say as you try to control your breathing.

“Hold on a second.” Pearl makes a pointed face and pulls a datapad out of her gem, typing on it rapidly.

“She didn’t try to kill you?” Steven rubs at his brow, confused. “Then why were you bleeding out when we found you?!”

“No, that’s what I’ve been trying to say, there was a whole fuckload of shit that went on that hell hole of a planet!!!” You spit out.

“She might be right, actually.” Pearl speaks up, quickly tapping on the glowing screen in front of her. She zooms into some kind of planetary chart from what you can see. “Golgotha has the trajectory to be running at a much faster time. The red giant it’s orbiting is-”

The rest of her words fall on deaf ears as your mind goes blank and you unintentionally freeze up. Spinel is still there. You feel like you’re about to unravel.

“I-I need to go back.” You choke out. “How long has it been since you picked me up?”

“Y/N, you’re insane if you think-”

“SHE’S STILL THERE, ALL ALONE, AND PROBABLY THINKS I’M DEAD.” You cry out. “CALL ME INSANE ALL YOU WANT BUT I’M NOT LEAVING HER THERE.”

“Y/N-”

“If you won’t take me then I’ll steal Lars’ ship, and get there myself.” You stare at them.

Steven visibly deflates.

“Can we maybe talk about what happened to you first? You’re not-”

“Every minute I waste here is hours for her.” You cut him off. “How long was I out exactly? How long has it been since you rescued me?

“You were out for several hours, since this afternoon..” Pearl says. You bite the tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“Great, so it’s been weeks for her already.” You nod your head, feeling a couple tears roll down your cheek. You wipe them away quickly. “Let’s go. I’ll tell you guys what I’ve been doing all this time on the way.”

“But-”

You turn to look at Steven, and his eyes meet yours. You think he can read your expressions enough by now to know the state of your emotions.

“Do you trust me?” You ask him. His eyes wavering between yours, a silent understanding passes.

He gives you a curt nod.

“Let’s go.”

Once you get onto Pink’s ship, Pearl reroutes the coordinates back to the planet you just came from. By the time you get there, it will be over a month and a half since Spinel’s seen you.

You try not to think about the possibilities of what she’s doing without you. You are so anxious that the nausea in the pit of your stomach constantly threatens to make you hurl.

Steven has been watching you for a while now, and he holds out one of his hands. You try not to cry when you see his open palm, and you take it. It used to be something you did when he was in distress, and now he’s doing it for you. It gives you brief amounts of comfort. You love him dearly.

“So, let’s just start from the beginning.” Steven clears his throat. “When we last saw you, you were taken.”

“Yeah.” You focus your eyes on the floor, and try to steady out your breathing. If it weren’t for Steven holding your hand, you’d be pacing right now. “As I said, she really only wanted me as bait. And even that didn’t really last long, considering I think I screamed at her enough for her to want to get rid of me.. You called that planet Golgotha, right?”

“That’s correct.” Pearl speaks up. “It was one of Yellow’s old colonies.”

“Yeah, I know.” You say.

“You knew? How?” Pearl replies, perplexed.

“I’ll get to that in a minute. Anyway,” You take a breath. “Golgotha sucks, it’s hot as shit there and it took me a while to find food, even. I hated Spinel, at first. She wasn’t helpful, and honestly I wanted her dead after what she tried doing to Steven.” You feel Steven squeeze your hand. “But we came to a truce eventually, to try to get off the planet after she destroyed the warp pad. And then I learned of her past, and well, things went a little differently after that.”

You look up from staring at the floor, and Pearl gives you a face.

“Spinel was made to be Pink’s best friend.” You hear the concern in her voice. “When I knew her, she was completely different.”

“Yeah, and Pink left her in a garden for six thousand years, Pearl. Anyone would have issues after that.” They all look at you like they’re not the least bit surprised.

“Mom left her for six thousand years?” Steven looks at you, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “No wonder you’ve been this distraught about leaving her.”

“And I haven’t even told you the rest.” You sigh. “We found a Spire, and the kindergarten there that the gems abandoned. It was.. so fucked up.”

“What do you mean?” Amethyst implores, crossing her arms over her chest. “Didn’t they just leave it?”

“Do you guys know exactly of what happened on Golgotha?” You turn to face Pearl.

“Other than it being a failed colony? No. The data extracted from them was incomplete.” She says, putting a thumb to her lip in consideration.

“Then it’s just Spinel and I who really know what went on.”

“What do you mean?” Steven asks, rubbing your hand with his thumb. You find his touch very comforting.

“It was a failed colony because of the gem eater.” You say, and all of them look at you apprehensively besides Garnet. Her face is almost comically blank.

“What..” Pearl squints at you as she trails off, face brimming with questions.

“So, hold on, let me make this clear.” You cough into your hand, clearing your throat. “Considering everything I’ve been through the last day, I’ve got the full picture. I don’t know how, but where they placed the kindergarten, there was a.. being already there.”

“A being?” Amethyst interrupts.

“I don’t know how to describe that thing, because I don’t know what it looked like prior to it draining all the injectors of the diamond’s essence to consume.”

“It WHAT?” Pearl drops her hand from her mouth in shock. “How could it-”

“I don’t know, honestly. All I know is that between what Spinel and I witnessed, and the incomplete data logs inside the Spire, that’s what I pieced together. Anyway. We learned that over a hundred gems went missing, and we also found multiple tunnels that all ended up being connected to the kindergarten, where this thing lived.”

“Of all planets she could’ve taken you, she had to take you to that one?” Amethyst comments, adjusting her stance.

“You’re telling me. That was a source of many of mine and Spinel’s arguments.”

“It sounds like you two became friends.” Garnet speaks up, and for some reason you get the feeling she can see right through you. You swallow all thoughts of potential implications.

“Something like that.” You ignore the way saying that makes you feel strange. “I think if it wasn’t for her, I probably would have died on that planet. Even if she was the one to bring me there in the first place, she still.. Anyway. I fell into one of those tunnels, where she eventually found me. We tried finding our way out, but instead ended up in it’s fucking lair. The gem eater had some kind of pheromone I’m guessing, because it smelt like shit and affected Spinel really weirdly. Makes sense that it lured all those gems into their death. I basically had to fight the thing off myself, because it wanted Spinel so badly.”

“Is that how you got that wound when we found you?” Amethyst asks, pointing at your stomach.

“Yeah.” You reply, placing your other hand that’s not holding Steven’s on your stomach as if you can still feel the gaping wound still. You had no time to really deal with any of that, and honestly, the current state of your psyche can’t really unpack it anyway. Dying? Ayy no problem.

“If Spinel wasn’t the one to hurt you, why was she nowhere near you when we came to pick you up?” Steven looks over to you, confusion in his eyes.

“I had her set me down so she could go grab supplies for me to do a rough patch job on my injury. As I said.. we were there for a couple weeks. I didn’t know if you guys were even coming for me, at that point.. I just didn’t want to die there.” You trail off. Steven’s still looking at you.

“Y/N, I’m sorry that it ended up that way, and that you had to go through that. We’re glad you’re still with us.” Garnet speaks up from the side, tone apologetic.

“I wouldn’t have been alive if it weren’t for Spinel.”

“You wouldn’t have been in harm’s way if it weren’t for me.” Steven says, looking guilty. You tug on his hand to look at you.

“I would do it all over again so you’d never have to experience what I did.” You look him in the eyes, pleading for him to understand this.

“Y/N..”

“Besides, it wasn’t all that bad. I gained a new friend.” You give him a small, wry smile, but your heart isn’t in it. You’re dreadfully terrified of what happens when you get back to Golgotha.

“When all of this is said and done, I’d like to talk more with you on what you experienced.” Pearl taps on the console in front of her, entering a few commands that you don’t care to pay attention to. “I’d like some clarity on a few things.”

“Yeah, just let me sleep for a week.” You reply, and Amethyst snorts.

“Ah, good ‘ol Y/N is back to her old habits pronto.” She puts her hands behind her head in a show of ease.

“Hey, I deserve it. You sleep on leaf piles and musty tarps for a month, and see how you feel about it.” You squint your eyes at her, and she laughs.

“We’ll be on the surface in less than an hour.” Pearl taps the screen a couple more times. “Where would you like us to land?”

You think you could spend a while wondering where Spinel could be on the surface. But you know her better than that by now.

“As close to the Spire as possible.” You hear yourself say.

Once the ship lands on the planet and the doors swoosh open, you breathe in the air of the jungle you didn’t miss whatsoever. It’s night, and the cold has already set in making your breath appear in front of you. The four of them - the gems and Steven, step out with you. The Spire’s about a mile away, as this is the closest clearing to it that she ship could land on.

You turn to them.

“I was wondering if I could go alone, actually.” You say to them, hesitantly.

“Why? What if something happens to you? We need to-” Pearl stops as Steven puts his hand up, cutting her off.

“Can I talk to you? Just for a second.” He says, grabbing you by the elbow and leading you gently about two dozen feet away from the others. You can see the worry in his eyes.

“What?” You ask. “I don’t want to waste any more time.”

“I know, I’m just worried..” His tone implies a lot of concern, and honestly you don’t know what you’d do without his presence in your life. He’s irreplaceable. “What I saw with her..”

“I need you to trust my judgement, Steven. You of all people know that everyone deserves a chance to improve, to be better.” You give him a look, and his eyes waver between yours.

“I do trust you, it’s just.. I just got you back.”

“I’ll be fine. The only threat that was on this planet is already dead. And I.. I made a promise to her.” You sigh and grab his hand, staring at his palm on yours. “I’ll be back before you know it. Keep the ship warm for me.”

He shares a look with you for several long seconds, and then nods.

“Be safe.”

You’re not going to lie when you say that once you got out of view of them and into the line of trees, you started to break out into a sprint, and kept running all the way to the Spire with minimal breathing breaks. It takes you probably only a little over five minutes to get there, and you’re out of breath by the time you get to the doors.

It’s a little alarming to see that the Spire doors aren’t even there. They’re ripped off completely, actually. You are scared and anxious of what you’ll find inside.

You step inside, and it’s pretty dark. There are leaves strewn everywhere, but nothing else looks out of place.

Spinel isn’t here.

You look to the staircase, finding it intact. Your legs work on autopilot, walking up every floor like you’ve done many times before, and this is no different. Passing by the level with the supplies you had told her to grab, you’re seeing several crates are smashed open.

You hope your gut feeling is right. It hasn’t failed you yet.

The closer to the top, the more nervous you get. What if she isn’t there? Where else could she go? She couldn’t have gone back down into the tunnels - that would make little sense. Two floors to go. You feel your hands start to shake in quiet fear.

You haven’t had a lot of time to think about any of the ‘what if’s’. You’ve been consumed mainly with thoughts of getting back to her. You reach the floor underneath the top one, and before you get to the other staircase, you can hear the wind much more loudly than before. Getting closer to it, and taking a couple steps up - you realize that the entire top of the rest of this Spire is blown off. Or torn off.

Two steps. Three steps. You swallow nervously. You can’t seem to steady your erratic breathing. You can see the moons glowing against the stone of the Spire. Reaching the top of the stairs, you misstep and trip on the top edge of the stair - falling to your knee and catching yourself with your hand.

You hear movement ten feet in front of you, and you look up, frozen in place.

Your eyes meet Spinel’s.

“..you’re alive?” The voice you want to hear most says, and she looks at you like you’re the last person she expected to see.

#spinel #spinel x reader #su #steven universe #distant lands #my fic

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inspired-by-the-music · 5 years ago

Text

Smile

Pairing: Jamin x Reader

Genre: angsty at first, fluffy fluffy fluffy ending!

Warning: y/n is in an emotionally abusive relationship

Word Count: 10k oof guess I went overboard for Jaemin

“I’m so proud of you, Jisung!” You cooed upon learning that your baby brother earned his first part-time job.

Jisung mumbled, “Ah, cut it out,” but he couldn’t fight his smile as he squirmed to escape your embrace and efforts to pinch his rosy cheeks. “I don’t act like this when you make the honor roll at your college—”

“That’s because my academic excellence has become expected, almost unimpressive,” you joked confidently, almost choking on laughter when Jisung groaned at your mock arrogance. “But you—” you poked his arm— “you’ve always been a precious baby, so it’s weird to watch you step into the adult world.”

Having learned long ago that he would always be a baby in your eyes, Jisung didn’t waste his breath arguing that he was kind of, basically, technically an adult. He blinked at you and tilted his head so it laid against the back of the couch. “I don’t think about it like that. It’s just a job at the cafe, and I’m only doing it because my friends are.”

Spending time with Jisung was refreshing because his simple, youthful outlook challenged your habit of overanalyzing. That aspect of your relationship hadn’t changed since you enrolled in the local university. Jisung was still very much your baby brother; yet, as he laid back and stretched his legs over your lap and his socked feet dangled off the arm of the couch, you realized with a gasp that he was growing up. He was growing up, and he didn’t think anything about it while you mourned every second of lost youth. To Jisung, the next steps in life— which terrified you— were fun, a casual adventure with his friends.

What would it be like, you wondered enviously, to be like Jisung?

You wouldn’t ask. Even if you did, Jisung wouldn’t know how to answer.

As he playfully wiggled his toes into your ribs, and you laughed while swatting at his denim-clad legs, a voice sounded through his headset. The words were unintelligible, but the tone was unmistakable: annoyed. They prompted Jisung to sit upright, plant his feet on the carpeted floor, and unpause his video game. Although his gaze was fixed on the flashing screen, he covered only one ear with the headset.

He heard you ask, “Who is that?��

“Jaemin,” Jisung whispered out of the side of his mouth and covered the microphone so his friend wouldn’t hear.

Because he was playing with just one hand, Jisung caused his team to lose. The loss was evident from the crimson text— “YOU LOSE”— filling the black screen, the slackjawed frown on Jisung’s face, and (especially) from the shrieks breaking through the headset.

Jisung chanted, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” but the shrieks rang on.

Your face flushed as rage burned in your gut. “Still Jaemin?”

A mere nod was Jisung’s answer. He didn’t bother to push away the bangs that had fallen into his eyes.

“What is he even saying?” You hissed.

“Nothing really,” Jisung shrugged away from your question.

You were overprotective of Jisung— you wouldn’t deny that. His willingness to defend his buddy despite his obviously flaring tempter fuelled your frustration. Maybe, you thought later, you shouldn’t have disliked that Jaemin kid that much considering you had never even seen him.

Rolling your eyes, you bossed, “Tell him that it’s just a game. You can play again until you win.”

Jisung shook his head and calmly explained, “That’s the worst thing to say to a raging gamer, Y/N—”

“Are you talking to a girl?” Jaemin roared loudly enough for you to hear. “Is that why we lost the tournament? Because you’re flirting with a girl?”

Sensing that you were reaching to snatch the headset to rival Jaemin’s temper, Jisung jumped up, stood as tall as he could on the couch so you couldn’t quite reach his head no matter how hard you stretched, and huffed at Jaemin, “I’m talking to my sister, not flirting, and I have to go!” He disconnected the headset and turned the game off before you could say anything to threaten his friendship with Jaemin.

You slumped down on the cushion. “You must have made some really nice friends while I’ve been busy busting my butt at school.”

“He is nice!” Jisung stepped off the couch. Frowning as you rolled your eyes again, he grumbled, “There’s no point in talking when people are too angry to listen,” before sulking away to his bedroom, embarrassed by his scoldings.

You regretted letting him walk away, but you resolved to comfort him later after tensions died down.

. . .

Because you were determined to be a kind person, you surrounded yourself with people who didn’t boil your blood. So, to tolerate Jaemin— which was as close as you could get to liking him as Jisung wanted— you had to maintain a safe distance. For the sake of peace, Jaemin had to remain a faceless name spoken into Jisung’s headset, and you would try not to roll your eyes whenever you heard it.

Despite what anyone says, you didn’t walk into the cafe that night with the intention of meeting Jaemin face to face. In fact, had you known that he was the friend Jisung followed into the workforce, you wouldn’t have agreed to pick your brother up after his shift. That was childish; since you were already in town after your last class, it only made sense that you should be the one to wait for him in the parking lot.

You were patient at first. Then, minutes passed, and you had to turn the car off to save gas, and the almost-summer heat baked the car until you lost all self-control. Had you rushed into the air-conditioned cafe sooner, before you were seething at the realization that you had wasted over an hour waiting for Jisung (who was still scrubbing down tables like Cinderella well into the night on his first day), you might have missed Jaemin’s lecture that pushed your temper to its breaking point.

You couldn’t have recognized Jaemin by his neatly combed hair or crystalline smile. You knew him by the frustrated tone he used to scold Jisung without looking up from the register where he stood counting the day’s earnings. “You made too many stupid mistakes today, Jisung! I can forgive you for forgetting the day’s special once or twice, but every time you talked to a customer— if you can’t be bothered to memorize something so simple—”

“Ahem.”

The boys’ attention snapped away from their work to gawk at you with wide eyes when you cleared your throat.

“— you can always just look at this chalkboard,” Jaemin concluded less sternly, pointing at an overheard sign that boasted: ‘Today’s Special: Green Tea Latte.’

Jaemin’s bug-eyed stare provoked you to quip, “Is that all you do— for fun and for work? Yell at Jisung?”

“Huh?” Jaemin’s jaw dropped in an innocent schoolboy expression that might have been adorable if he hadn’t already landed on your bad side.

This was your biggest fault: you put too much weight in first impressions. Of course, you could easily apologize after realizing that you had misjudged somebody. You even had a consistent record of forgiving inexcusable offenses against yourself. What you couldn’t forgive or forget were attacks against Jisung, and you had just witnessed Jaemin’s second strike.

Acting as the mediator between your wrath and Jaemin’s confusion, Jisung returned to his task of wiping the table. “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

It was irrational to expect Jisung to raise his voice to defend himself from Jaemin’s scolding. Jisung was subordinate to Jaemin in friendship and especially in the workplace hierarchy. Always, you were proud of your brother’s peaceful temperament. Proud and, at that moment, annoyed.

“Mom and dad asked me to drive you home after your shift that was supposed to end over an hour ago.”

Jisung’s lips rounded into a tiny ‘o,’ and he turned to Jaemin for confirmation of the time.

Jaemin didn’t notice, though. He was quietly studying you with narrowed eyes. “You’re Jisung’s sister?”

“Yeah,” you nodded stiffly. “I’m the reason you lost your little video game tournament.”

Your words were intended as a blunt weapon, but Jaemin laughed. His smile was almost blinding as he swept his hair out of his face with slender coffee-stained fingers. “Oh yeah. Well, don’t sweat that. I forgive ya!”

Before you could explain that you weren’t apologizing— that neither you nor Jisung had done anything to warrant begging forgiveness— Jaemin winked, “As long as you go on a date with me!”

You imagined your reaction looked a lot like Jisung’s: hanging jaws and wide-eyed blinking. Objectively, it was flattering that someone as cute as Jaemin (excluding his temper) would flirt with you even as a mindless pastime. Even if Jaemin hadn’t made two terrible first impressions, even if he wasn’t one of Jisung’s little buddies, even if your pride would allow you to give in to his charms, one dreadful fact remained:

“I have a boyfriend.”

On cue, Jisung rolled his eyes. Grinding his teeth, he dropped his gaze on the table.

“Oh.” Jaemin’s shoulders fell, and his smile barely faltered. The smile, you realized, wasn’t an expression of happiness; his lips were almost permanently set in a toothy grin, even if it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

That must be inconvenient, you thought. Does he smile even when he’s sad? Or when he’s angry?

When Jaemin looked up at Jisung, his eyes crinkled fondly. All traces of past frustration had vanished. “Goodnight, Jisung. I’ll see ya tomorrow!”

Slowing his movements to a near-complete stop, Jisung started, “But I’m not finished—”

Jaemin shot him a pointed look. As quickly as it had calmed, his temper flared. “Don’t keep your sister waiting. I’ll close up.”

Just as you opened your mouth— to thank Jaemin, or to apologize for your impatience, or to offer to help clean or at least sit quietly while waiting for them to finish— your phone rang. Your mother was calling probably to ask why you weren’t yet home with Jisung in tow.

“Come on,” you urged Jisung gently after silencing your ringer and quietly resolving to have him call her once you were in the car. “We should go. Mom is worried.”

After looking at Jaemin once more for permission and receiving a courteous nod, Jisung untied his apron and folded it on the counter before Jaemin. “Thanks. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

Had Jisung been less mature, he would have teased you for abandoning your decision to dislike Jaemin after seeing him just once and exchanging only a few words. Instead, he focused on returning your mother’s call to recount his day at school (where he aced his first final exam) and his first day at work (where his friend Jaemin taught him how to make all kinds of coffee and pastries while defending him from the jokes of other teenage workers).

Silence fell over the car after Jisung ended the call. You drummed your thumbs on the steering wheel, anticipating that he must have saved some exciting story for your ears only, just as he always had. But no sound came from the passenger seat.

Your heart sank. No, you couldn’t blame him for being mad or embarrassed by you. Not only had you treated him like a defenseless infant— as always— you were also rude to his friend.

Yes, you had walked in on Jaemin lecturing Jisung, but at least he had been considerate enough to wait until the cafe was empty to voice is criticisms. All day, while you were too busy at school to do it yourself, Jaemin acted as Jisung’s guardian and protector. And no, you hadn’t forgotten that Jaemin screamed at Jisung and made his face flush because of a stupid video game, but it was clear from watching their interactions and from hearing how proudly Jisung talked about him that they held no grudges. Who were you, then, to hold on to one on Jisung’s behalf?

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. An apologetic glance over at the passenger seat revealed that Jising had fallen fast asleep. His head was leaned against the window, and his mouth hung agape; faint snores filled the silence.

As you decided to let him sleep, Jisung jolted awake. His face almost crashed into the dashboard.

“Alright there, partner?” You hummed like you used to in the days when you played Toy Story with him from dusk until dawn.

“Yeah.” Jisung nodded groggily as he settled back and reclined his seat. “Did ya say something while I was sleeping, partner?”

Again, you readied your apology, but you hesitated to deliver it as you sensed Jisung’s smile like gentle sun rays illuminating your skin. He wasn’t upset. He didn’t expect an apology. Yet, you felt you owed him one anyway.

He moped, “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. Although you were sorry, you didn’t have to express that with a long winded speech he wouldn’t understand. You could express it instead through actions. You could express it through jokes.

“I said Jaemin is a real cutie.” Without glancing away from the road, you winked.

Because you expected Jisung to gag— who wants to hear their sister call their friend cute?— you were surprised when he simply warned, “You have a boyfriend, remember?” You weren’t surprised, however, that he choked around the word ‘boyfriend.’

“Why don’t you like him? My boyfriend, I mean?”

Had you looked over, you would have seen Jisung cross his arms and turn his gaze out the window. “Why do you like him?”

Jisung so rarely disliked anyone, his disapproval of your boyfriend made you wary of the romance— if you could even call it a romance. After months of back and forth, he finally decided that you could call him your boyfriend. Because you spent so much time and energy chasing that ideal, the half-formed thought of being with him, you couldn’t quite let it go even though the dull reality paled (soured, even) to the dream.

You should have been able to answer Jisung’s question. It was a dooming sign, your inability to name one reason why you liked your boyfriend that hadn’t been dashed by being his girlfriend. Rather than heeding the sign, however, you clutched the wool over your eyes and turned the radio on.

. . .

“Believe it or not, babe, I’d like to have one date that’s not about babysitting your little brother,” your boyfriend said through a mouthful of rice.

Rejection was an almost daily occurrence, but you reddened nonetheless. “First of all, my brother isn’t that young. He’s eighteen.” Yes, to you, Jisung was a precious baby; but you had to deny his youthfulness to defend him from your boyfriend’s criticism. To mask your blossoming blush, you took a sip of your tea. “Second of all, it’s not a date. I told Jisung I would take him and his friends to the arcade if he got good grades on all his exams. I’m inviting you to be nice.”

To be nice. To try again to be a better girlfriend because maybe that would make him a better boyfriend. To subject yourself, again, to disappointment because maybe that would be the final one to sever your ties.

He had stopped listening, opting instead to scroll through his phone. “Whatever.”

Before he could look up and make his millionth appeal for a date in the privacy of your bedroom, before he could reiterate his rejection, you forced yourself onto your feet. “Yeah. Whatever.”

Although you would be almost an hour early to class, you raced out of the cafeteria. Had you been thinking more clearly— had you been able to breathe comfortably enough to think around him at all— you would have tried again to break up with him. It wasn’t a mystery why Jisung hated him, you admitted to yourself as you dashed through the deserted hallway. He was determined to employ every negative tactic to occupy your every thought; he refused to encourage your interaction with others, even your own brother; he thought only of keeping you to himself.

And yet, he could ignore you for days, leaving you to wonder what you had done wrong to inflict the latest silence. When you would forcefully swallow your dwindling pride to invite him to spend time together, he would reject your advances because they weren’t intimate enough.

Until you were trapped in that cycle, you couldn’t comprehend how hard— impossible— they are to break from. In a few scattered moments, like the one where you sat with your back pressed against the wall and knees drawn up to your chest, it was undeniable: you were miserable. Rather than finding the strength to end the relationship, instead of embracing the uncertainty of freedom, you prayed that he would let you go. If he was so uninterested, why couldn’t he just walk away?

You knew the sickening answer. Nobody ever liked him before you did. Clinging to you— even if it meant breaking you— was the only way he could hold the illusion of self-worth. Putting you down, making you beg for acknowledgment, was the only way he could stand over anyone. You walked into this situation by pining after somebody who never wanted you; maybe, then, you deserved to be unhappy.

As students flooded out of the classroom and into the hall, you wiped at your eyes with ice-cold hands. You weren’t crying; you were just trying to wipe the tired dark circles off.

“Y/N!” Someone called on their way out of the classroom.

It was Jaemin, beaming and waving both hands excitedly as if greeting an old friend— as if you hadn’t treated him so unfairly during your first and only prior meeting.

That pinch of guilt and whatever dread caused by your boyfriend faded when Jaemin slung his yellow backpack onto the floor at your feet before crashing into the space on the bench next to you.

“Gotta leave room for others,” he justified when you raised an eyebrow as he stretched his arm along the back of the bench around your shoulders.

“Right,” you nodded dubiously. “What are you doing here, Jaemin?”

“Ouch— icy—” he winced, playfully smiling all the while. “Just give me a chance, and I’ll prove that I’m worthy of sitting with you!”

“I don’t doubt it.” He blushed at your honest attempt at flattery, and you continued, “But that’s not what I meant. Why are you doing here at my school?”

Jaemin shrugged. “It’s not just your school.”

Your eyes widened. “You go to school here?” He nodded. “Really? I could have sworn you were Jisung’s age and that he met you at his high school—”

“Nope.” Jaemin popped the ‘p’ proudly. “I hope you didn’t reject me just because you thought I was too young!” You laughed, and he winked, “It’s okay if ya did. I’ll give you another chance to date me.”

You shook your head, almost in a futile attempt to convince yourself that your heart didn’t flutter with the growth of Jaemin’s smile.

“Just playing.” He dropped the arm resting behind your shoulders to act as a barrier between your bodies. “Jisung said you really have a boyfriend, so I probably shouldn’t flirt with you.”

Blushing at the information that Jaemin and Jisung talked about you, you blurted, “He wouldn’t mind.” Your hand clamped over your mouth too late to prevent them from filling the air.

“Who?” Jaemin’s head tilted curiously. “Jisung or your boyfriend?” You didn’t answer, so Jaemin tried another question: “Would you mind?”

Eager to escape, you flinched off of the bench. “Sorry, Jaemin— gotta get to class.” As much as you loathed your boyfriend, as much as you were starting to like Jaemin, outright flirting wasn’t right.

You couldn’t control what Jaemin did. Diving to reach your hand, he didn’t seem to care too much that you had a boyfriend. Then again, he probably didn’t have to care; he wasn’t obligated to consider any feelings but his own.

Undeterred by your gasp and smirking because you didn’t yank your hand out of his grasp, he asked, “You’re going to the arcade with Jisung this weekend, right?”

It shouldn’t have been a big deal— touching somebody’s hand— but you couldn’t quite breathe because of Jaemin’s touch. Numbly, overwhelmed with unfamiliar emotions that clouded your thoughts, you nodded. “Yeah. Who do you think is paying for all the tokens and pizza?”

“Huh?” In his surprise, Jaemin dropped your hand. You could breathe again. His eyes narrowed. “Not you. I’ll pay.”

You shook your head. “Jisung is my brother, and I promised to take him and his little friends—”

“Do you even know how many people he invited?” When you responded with another shake of your head, Jaemin counted on his hand, “Renjun, Jeno, Haechan, Chenle, and me. Excluding me— because I’m not letting you pay my way— and including Jisung, that’s five boys you’re promising to pay for. Five boys—” he wiggled his fingers menacingly— “who live on pizza and games.”

Forcing your arms through the straps of your backpack, you chuckled at his dramatic delivery. “If they’re so expensive, why are you so determined to pay for them yourself?”

“Because you shouldn’t have to—”

Your alarm sounded to signal that your class would start in five minutes. “I have to go to class, Jaemin, so we’ll have to bicker about this later—”

As you dismissed the alarm with the tap of your thumb, Jaemin yanked your phone away. “Here. I’ll give you my number.” His eyes twinkled when they met yours, and a corner of his lips flicked upward in a teasing smile as he clarified, “Just so we can discuss this payment business. Don’t get any funny ideas.”

Despite your promise to Jisung not to waste the night staring at the door waiting for your boyfriend, you sat alone at a small table doing just that for at least thirty minutes after Jisung ran into the arcade with his friends. Were you hoping he would show up? Not because you wanted to play skeeball with him or anything. You just wanted— needed— for the silence born after your last conversation in the cafeteria to end. As expected, your humbling texts had gone unanswered; there was no reason to think he had changed his mind about coming to the arcade.

He’s not coming. Again, always, you were caught between relief and anxiety. Your sweaty palms clutched the edges of your seat. I’ll give him ten more minutes. Ten more minutes, and then I’m having fun with or without him.

But it was impossible to have fun with him. That truth was never more blatant than when Jaemin plopped into the chair next to you.

He boasted, “I gave the children money to buy pizza,” in a voice made raspy to emulate old age, “per our agreement.”

That was the compromise reached via texts: Jaemin would pay for all food, and you would pay for arcade access.

Jaemin’s characteristic sterling smile dimmed as he noticed your frown and how you nervously eyed the door and compulsively checked your phone. “Are you expecting someone?” You hesitated to respond, and he warned, “The kids will be here any minute, so you should tell me what’s bugging you quickly. That way, we can work through it while we still have some privacy.”

His earnest stare prompted you to blurt, “My boyfriend.” Noting Jaemin’s frown, you squirmed through your stresses. “I invited him— who knows why— and he said that he wanted to have a date without my brother tagging along— so, obviously, I stormed off— and we haven’t talked in two days— which isn’t that long, but I don’t know what to say to fix things— and he isn’t even here, and—”

Jaemin blinked like Jisung always did when your worries bubbled out of your mouth, so you cut yourself off. Jaemin’s mouth fell open, and it stayed open as he struggled to form a response.

“I’m sorry.” You shrank in your seat. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

Aside from feeling guilty for dumping your feelings on someone, you hated yourself for spilling them all over Jaemin of all people. Jaemin, who always smiled and didn’t deserve to be burdened with your self-inflicted troubles. Jaemin, who flirted with you, and somehow liked you, and didn’t want to hear about your boyfriend.

“I don’t think you have to apologize. To me or to him.” Jaemin’s smile slowly returned, and guilt eased its clutch around you. “No offense, but anyone who doesn’t want to hang out with you and Jisung is lame. And I’m not just saying that because I like—”

Your soaring heart came crashing down when Haechan cheered, “We come bearing pizza!” The other boys followed behind him, each carrying two boxes of pizza.

After Renjun returned Jaemin’s debit card and the boys claimed a seat— notably, Jisung sat at your side and smiled brightly— Jaemin glared at nobody in particular. “Do you think you got enough to eat? Seriously, guys, ten pizzas are excessive! You can’t just take advantage of my generosity—”

“Jaemin,” you interrupted calmly, fighting the urge to giggle at his nagging with the other boys. “It’s okay. If it matters so much, I’ll pay you back.”

“What?” He gasped. “No, don’t! Besides, money isn’t the point—”

“Generosity!” Chenle cackled and flicked a piece of pepperoni at Jaemin; he dodged the attack. “You just bought us dinner to impress Jisung’s big sister!”

The others, excluding Jisung, chorused, “Ooooh.” All, except the laughing Jeno, partook in flinging pizza toppings at Jaemin.

Burning a faint shade of pink from his neck up Jaemin screeched, “Yah! Cut it out! I dressed nicely—”

Jeno wiggled his eyebrows before sinking his teeth into a slice of cheese pizza. “Jaemin dressed nicely to impress Jisung’s sister!”

And the boys (minus Jisung, who sat quietly at your side, cheeks stuffed full) again sang “Ooooh,” until your face and Jaemin’s both colored crimson.

In what must have been an attempt to defend you from his friends’ teasing Jisung swallowed his mouthful and chirped, “She has a name! It’s Y/N!”

Jisung’s attempt backfired.

“Ooooh! Jaemin and Y/N, sitting in a tree. . .”

As the boys sang their silly song, and you laughed out loud for the first time all night, Jaemin’s annoyance or embarrassment vanished. Grinning, he flew out of his seat, grabbed you by the hand, and pulled you toward the arcade. “Hope you got all the pizza you wanted!”

Although you couldn’t really care less about eating more pizza, you yelled over children’s laughter and game sound effects, “You don’t think they’ll leave me any?”

“Jisung might try to save you some, but it’ll get all cold if one of the guys doesn’t steal it. You and I are gonna be here for a while.” He dropped your hand to point up at a shelf of plush prizes. “Which one do you want?”

The giant mint green llama instantly caught your eye. You fumbled with an answer because, “Jaemin, those cost, like, 5,000 tickets!”

He retrieved a neon green play card from his back pocket, twirled it between his fingers, and winked. “4,902 electronic tickets, baby! Pick your prize, and we’ll get the other 98 tickets!”

“How— why—” You stuttered, flustered by Jaemin’s utterly unromantic use of the word ‘baby.’

“I come here a lot,” Jaemin shrugged, “and I already have a bunch of those plushes. It’s a little childish, but they always make me feel better when I’m feeling down.”

Oh. So this was his response to your rambling about your boyfriend. He wouldn’t tell you to just break up with him if you were so miserable like your girlfriends did before casually moving on to the next topic of idle gossip. He wouldn’t sulk with you like Jisung. Jaemin would go out of his way to teach you to have fun.

“Pick one!” Jaemin urged again, brushing his elbow against your ribs until you went weak with laughter. Before you could trip over your own feet, he secured you around the waist. As he parted his lips, probably to tease your clumsiness, his gaze followed where you pointed. “Ah, the llama. Cute. Let’s go!” He grabbed your hand again and sped to the wall of skeeball machines because, as he explained, that game was the quickest (and most fun) way to earn tickets.

“We don’t have to run everywhere,” you wheezed, doubling over.

Having knelt down to swipe his play card, Jaemin looked up and stole your little remaining breath with his smile. “Come on, Y/N, breathlessness is part of the fun!” Seeing that you were scrambling to pull your card out of your pocket, Jaemin swiped his again through your machine before standing upright.

“Jaemin!” You swatted at him gently, and he spun away from the contact. “I’m supposed to pay for the games! That’s what we agreed on!”

Your scolding elicited a burst of laughter. Shaking his card at you, Jaemin defended, “The points are on my card.” A single eyebrow arched. “If you want that adorable llama, you gotta let me pay.”

Because he turned his attention to his game and started launching ball after ball into the center target before you could reply, he didn’t see your small smile. “Under that cute exterior,” you mirrored his posture as you started your game, “you’re really quite cunning.”

Rather than fixating on the insult, Jaemin noticed the compliment. “Cute,” he mimicked your high pitch. “You think I’m cute?” He glanced out of the corner of his eye to gauge your expression and snorted as your ball sank into the gutter. “Oops! Am I too cute? Am I distracting you?”

To your relief, your blush was washed out by the blinking arcade lights. “You’re not distracting me because you’re cute.” You balanced the lie with a partial truth: “You’re distracting because you’re annoying.”

“Ouch,” He whistled. His game announced, ‘New High Score!’ and he celebrated by pumping a fist into the air before turning to you. “Every time I think you’re starting to like me back just a little, you cut me right back down.”

Well aware of how flirtatiously Jaemin would interpret your words, you decided to say, ‘I do like you.’ The words were dancing on the tip of your tongue, but you swallowed them back at the sudden reappearance of Jisung and his band of friends.

“Found ‘em!” Haechan declared as if you had been playing hide-and-seek.

This is a good thing, you told yourself as your game ended without all the fanfare Jaemin’s high score earned. I would have regretted confusing Jaemin’s feelings. Some true things are better left unsaid.

“Ah, these kids are ruining the experience,” Jaemin grumbled playfully. Shoving his hands into the pockets of light blue acid-washed jeans, he asked the boys, “What do you need now?”

“We just wanted to check in on our favorite budding romance.” Renjun’s jest received laughter from the other boys and a dramatic eyeroll from Jaemin.

While Jaemin suggested, “Find your own girls and stop following us like a bunch of weirdos,” Jisung stepped up to your side.

“Want these?” He held out his joined hands that cupped a rainbow assortment of hard candies. “I won them out of a machine!” Your brother beamed at his accomplishment when you popped a candy into your mouth.

Stuffing a wrapper and a couple of pieces into your pockets, you smiled at him. “Thank ya, Jisung!” The cherry flavored jawbreaker muffled your voice. You nearly choked on your laughter when Jisung bent his knees and leaned forward so you could pat his head of pink-brown hair in proud gratitude.

“Now that the adorable sibling bonding is out of the way,” Chenle said, “we’re gonna play laser tag. We know you two—” his eyes flickered from you to Jaemin— “would rather make out by the skeeball machines—”

You gasped, and Jisung shouted, “Hey!” He stomped to Chenle and towered over him. Jisung’s height alone would have been daunting if he didn’t have the face of a baby even when glowering. “Don’t be a gross pervert! That’s my sister!” Chenle’s hands rose in mock surrender. “I’m not the one making out with—”

“Anyway—” As you facepalmed, Jeno intervened by stepping between Chenle and Jisung. “We’re gonna play laser tag, if you wanna tag along!” Jeno laughed at his own pun, and you removed your hand from your face to flash a polite grin.

Jaemin replied with a shake of his head that sent his bangs falling into his eyes. “Nah, we’re not gonna play. Thanks for asking.”

“We’re not?” You wrinkled your forehead.

You weren’t offended by Jaemin’s eagerness to speak on your behalf; you were just surprised that he didn’t run at the opportunity to explore the arcade with his friends. That was why he showed up, right? To spend time with Jisung.

Ignoring Chenle’s joking, “Ooooh, trouble in paradise!” Jaemin explained through a nervous grin, “We can’t get tickets from playing laser tag. If we want that llama, we gotta stay focused!”

“Huh?” Jisung’s eyes resembled saucers as he sucked on a piece of candy. “Llama? You’re not gonna pay tag?”

You didn’t withstand your brother’s disappointed stare because you wanted to win some silly stuffed animal. This was wrong— now, you thought, you actually deserved your boyfriend’s disapproval— but you enjoyed having Jaemin’s attention to yourself.

That’s why grinned, “Gotta win that llama!” earning Jaemin’s high five.

Teasing you must have lost its appeal; wordlessly nodding, the boys— except Jisung, who stood staring at you— set off to play laser tag. Realizing that Jisung would otherwise be left behind, Renjun ushered him away, muttering, “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Moments passed without words after Jaemin started another round of skeeball.

The silence ended when Jaemin said, “You don’t have to look so guilty.” His voice, softer than usual, was almost lost amid booming sound effects and laughter and screams of triumph and despair. “Jisung won’t stay hung up on us for long. He’s an adaptable kid.”

You couldn’t explain that the guilt twisting your gut had little to do with the look you put on your brother’s face. Honesty would have required admitting aloud that spending this time with Jaemin was a sin; then, you would have to stop out of respect for the never-present boyfriend who didn’t care to show you any consideration. And you didn’t want to stop. And you didn’t want to ruin the playful atmosphere by vocalizing your distress. And you didn’t want to overwhelm Jaemin’s crush on you if it were as shallow as you imagined.

We’re just having fun, you argued to the voice in the shadows of your mind that demanded an justification for your joy.

The voice in your mind sounded a lot like the one booming in your ears, the voice of your boyfriend, the voice that stunned you stiff. Those defensive thoughts— they weren’t just thoughts; they were also stuttered excuses you forced through trembling lips as he glared down at you, his fingers digging into your arms so roughly that it would have hurt if you weren’t embarrassed— numb. Numb except for the agonizing thundering of your heart.

People were staring. People were listening to him scold, “I wouldn’t have bothered coming to this stupid place if I’d known you were here to hook up with some stupid kid you found at the claw machine.”

He cut his eyes at Jaemin and crushed you with the realization that you were not trapped in a dream turned nightmare. He wouldn’t disappear with the opening of your eyes, yet you blinked once, twice, thrice, in the hope that he would.

Jaemin was a s stunned as you were. Dark maroon splotches welted every visible inch of his skin; his chest rapidly rose and fell under his white t-shirt; his hands were clenched in tight fists pressed to his side; his jaw was forced shut, lips pressed into a thin line.

“He is not a stupid kid.” Emboldened by the instinct to stand up for Jaemin, you didn’t shrink under your boyfriend’s cold, piercing stare. “He’s practically my age, and we aren’t even hooking up—” You liked Jaemin, and that perversion of your relationship made all of your hairs stand on end. “He’s my friend.”

“Your friend.” Your boyfriend’s laugh was hollow. Again, he was going to remind you that nobody was interested in you. Jabbing a finger at Jaemin without breaking your eye contact, he accused, “That kid is no more interested in ‘friendship’ with you than I am.”

At some point, you would have believed it. At some point, those words would have hurt you, but they had been spoken so often that they lost their sting. He had always been like this— cruel— even when you had willed yourself oblivious. Until now, you forced yourself to say whatever might guarantee temporary peace.

What was so different now?

Maybe now that you realized there were people like Jaemin, who would enjoy your company without the promise of anything in return, you couldn’t subject yourself to mistreatment. Maybe Jaemin’s smile broke through the darkness your boyfriend insisted encompassed the entire world; maybe Jaemin’s smile exposed your relationship’s emptiness; maybe you understood at last there was nothing there worth saving with forced silence.

“Let go of me.” You met your boyfriend’s eyes, voice wavering only slightly because the words were unfamiliar in your mouth. “Go away. You don’t want anything to do with me, and I don’t want anything to do with you either. So just— just—”

The tears that pooled in his eyes were inauthentic. Despite recognizing the deliberate attempt at manipulation, you tread that dangerous line between freedom and captivity, between apology and honesty, until he pushed you out of his grasp.

You couldn’t even be relieved; he turned and towered over Jaemin who, somehow, was not intimidated by his size. Jaemin, who stood proudly when faced with the force that had been strangling you, extinguishing you for months.

“Ease up, kid,” he growled, “I’m not gonna hit you.”

Jaemin did not change in his posture, and your boyfriend clicked his tongue in annoyance; you flinched at the sound, and Jaemin didn’t bat an eyelash.

“Whatever. You want her so badly?” Jaemin nodded so wildly that your boyfriend would have seen if he hadn’t focused his eyes on you to watch you crumble as he said, “Take her, then. She’s nothing to me.”

You weren’t winded so much by what he said; you decided just moments ago that he could not determine your worth. But how could anybody spout cruelty so easily? How could he easily turn away from his latest attempt to break you when you could never work up the nerve to gently walk away from him? You couldn’t understand.

And you couldn’t quite process the public break up until after noticing that the once bustling arcade had gone silent safe for the few scattered whispers— all about you. It was not quite real until you felt the eyes of strangers prying into you in search of the worth he could never find. The humiliation didn’t quite dawn on you until you met Jaemin’s gaze— overwhelmed, frightened, saddened.

Jaemin’s stare. That’s what drove you to seek solace on a bench under the moonlight sky.

The unseasonably cool blowing breeze reminded you that you never deserved to hold Jaemin’s attention. What had he even seen in you that day you stormed into the cafe to retrieve Jisung? You had been sweaty, irritable, dismissive of his friendship with Jisung and his inexplicable interest in you. Undesirable in appearance and in deed; yet somehow Jaemin could smile at you. You couldn’t understand.

After that confrontation, he would never smile at you the same way. How weak must you have sounded, stuttering like a fool? How foolish must you have seemed for allowing someone so careless and cruel to stand close to your heart?

Weak. Foolish. Undesirable. Unworthy.

The words you thought of yourself were unfair, untrue, and yet you could not stop thinking them. In an effort to ignore the thoughts you couldn’t control, you wedged your phone out of your pocket. Gifsets were always guaranteed to brighten your mood.

Your mood soured further, though, after dismissing a wall of texts from your boyfriend— well, ex-boyfriend and after reading a text from your friend, who sent you a screenshot of your ex’s Instagram account. The picture depicted a rather tasteless kiss between himself and a girl who wasn’t you with a caption that read: ‘Guess I don’t have to keep the best thing that ever happened to me a secret anymore. Guess Y/N and I were both two-timers.’

The screen went black, and you slammed the phone down at your side. After publicly accusing you of cheating with Jaemin, your ex revealed the reason why he never wanted you, why he preferred to go days without talking, why he never wanted to spend any time with you: there was somebody else. The problem was never you; the problem was always him.

Somehow, deep down, or right at the surface, you had always known. So rather than feeling relieved or vindicated, you hated yourself for ignoring your parents and Jisung and the careful voice in your head that said, ‘let go, run,’ long before you met Jaemin and started falling for his smile slowly and then all at once.

Footsteps slapped on the pavement from afar, and you sucked a breath in. Nobody could see you— not until you had worked through your storm of emotions— so you tugged your legs, bare below your striped shorts, up onto the bench and contorted to conceal yourself in the building’s shadow.

Jaemin found you with little effort. He wasted no time in running to you and didn’t think twice before sitting beside you just as closely as he had at school days ago. His eyes were different now: wide with concern, no longer sparkling with mischief.

Unable to stand how he looked at you— as if you were breaking— you crossed your arms over your knees and buried your face in the bend of your elbow. “Stop looking at me like that, Jaemin.”

Although he had done nothing wrong, Jaemin apologized. “I’m sorry. And I’m sorry that happened, and I’m sorry I caused it—”

“You didn’t cause it.” The urge to console Jaemin overwhelmed the urge to hide. You lowered your feet onto the concrete and, to comfort him, rested your arm on the back of the bench, just behind his shoulders. “That guy— he’s always been a big—”

You wouldn’t have known how to describe your ex-boyfriend if your phone hadn’t interrupted you with a sharp buzz that likely signaled another incoming text from your friend. Jaemin grabbed your phone although you were content to leave the messages unread, and the screen lit up in his hand.

Jaemin’s mouth fell open as he instinctively scanned the message. “He— he had the nerve to scream at you in front of all those people when he’s been kissing—”

Rage tightened around Jaemin’s vocal chords, and he shoved the phone back into the narrow space between your bodies. “I don’t get it. People like that— how do they get anyone to like them? And how can they just treat people— why do they— I—” He raked his fingers through his hair, drawing a deep ragged breath.

Staring up at the moon and willing your voice to stay even, you mumbled, “I don’t get it either. I guess— you know— I read once that we accept the love we think we deserve.”

Did you believe that line you found in a book? Is that why you could never break things off?

Jaemin pulled his legs up onto the bench and crossed them so he could face you fully. “Hey.” He reached for your hand, and this time there was no playful smirk when you didn’t flinch from his touch. Once you mirrored his posture to face him too, he said, “You deserve better. A lot better. And by that, I don’t mean that you deserve me, even though I’d like—”

As if you weren’t leaning into his every word, Jaemin caught his tongue and stared down at his hand holding yours.

When words failed, you returned his small act of affection by curling your fingers around his hand. “I really want to deserve you, Jaemin. Someday soon.”

Had you given into the desire to look at him, you would have seen his eyebrows knitting together. “I don’t know what you mean. If it has anything to do with what that jerk said—”

“It doesn’t,” you said immediately despite your failed efforts to silence his nagging voice in the corner of your mind. “You’re just so bright and beautiful, and I was so quick to judge you for yelling at Jisung—”

“Wait, when did I— oh, are you talking about when I got onto him that time after work?”

You nodded slowly, tracing over his knuckles. “And when you yelled at him over that video game.”

“You actually heard that?” At his feeble tone, you finally looked up at Jaemin. In the pale moonlight, his blush was a glowing pink. He scratched at the back of his neck with his free hand. “I’m sorry. I apologized to Jisung, too. I guess it’s not an excuse, but my temper isn’t all that great when I lose games. And that time after work—”

“I know you weren’t trying to bully him. You were trying to help him improve, and now I know that you just like to nag—”

Jaemin huffed, “I do not nag!”

“— and I’m sorry that I misunderstood you. It’s not an excuse, but I am too protective of Jisung because he’s the most precious person in the world. I didn’t know that you knew that too. I’m sorry.”

Jaemin blinked, unsure of what to do with your apologies. “I like that you’re protective of Jisung. I like that when some big jerk is yelling at you, you think to defend me from his lame insults. That’s who you are, and it’s nothing to apologize for— especially because I like you.”

He liked you. After all of that chaos, Jaemin still liked you. Such a small word— like— meant so much because you couldn’t remember the last time someone who wasn’t Jisung said it to you and meant it. You didn’t try to fight the smile tugging at your lips.

If you were defined by protectiveness of Jisung and Jaemin, then Jaemin was defined by buying pizza for his friends (and nagging about it), and offering a hard-earned collection of 4,902 tickets to brighten your day with a cute stuffed animal, and holding your hand in the aftermath of utter humiliation.

You couldn’t keep the fact to yourself, and you didn’t want to: “I like you too, Jaemin.”

He looked at you, and silence hung in the air as you stood together on the edge of something new. Should you say something to define it? Would taking that dive dampen the chemistry that formed despite old oppressive labels?

You didn’t agonize long before Jaemin leaped off the bench and extended his hand to you. “Come on,” he implored, wearing that broad smile that gave your heart the wings to soar from its finally broken restraints. “We gotta go win that llama!”

You didn’t hesitate to take his hand; you didn’t hesitate to seize the moment with him, wherever it led.

Had you anticipated when stepping into the warm cafe from the chilly Autumn breeze that there would be so many college-aged students sitting around sipping down lattes and munching through muffins, you would have held onto the sunshine yellow gift bag longer and sought Jaemin at school tomorrow. Having stood in line far too long to just walk away without achieving your goal, you waited patiently, trying to repress your mounting anxiety, until Jeno noticed you from behind the register.

“Y/N!” He smiled and motioned you to the front, deaf to the groans of customers who resented your special treatment. “Jaemin!” He yelled into the kitchen, “It’s time for your break!” After shooting an enthusiastic thumbs up that suspended your nerves, Jeno returned to serving customers.

“Huh?” Jaemin filled the doorway, brow furrowed and lips pursed as he argued, “I’m not scheduled—”

He shrieked at the sight of you and, as you laughed, he shedded his chocolate stained cream apron. Combing his fingers through his hair, he said, “Jisung isn’t here, ya know.”

“I know,” you nodded. “I’m not here for Jisung.”

“Then why—”

At last, Jaemin’s eyes fell on the gift bag, and he presented you with his signature breath-taking smile. “Ah, I see!” He wagged a finger as he crossed the dark tiled floor, linked his arm with yours, and led you out into the golden afternoon.

Sitting on the bench just outside the cafe and jugging you to his side, Jaemin beamed, “You couldn’t resist seeing me on my birthday!”

You teased, “For once, your delusions are spot on.” Too nervous to hand over the bag, you clutched it and glanced around at the browning treeline. “Is this our thing, Nana? Sitting on benches and holding hands?”

The blush that colored his face whenever you called him by his nickname never failed to tickle your heart. “Yep,” he hummed and laced his fingers (warm) through yours (cold). “I’m not gonna have to let go when I open that present, am I?”

His free hand reached out for the gift, and you couldn’t cling to it any longer. Sucking in a breath, you watched as he yanked out the white tissue paper; you released the breath only when his eyes sparkled while he freed the puny pink plush llama from the bag.

“Did you win this from the arcade?” His smile, already too big for this dull world, grew with the nod of your head.

“I can’t take all the credit,” you giggled when Jaemin touched the llama’s muzzle to your face again and again in time with the puckering of his lips to simulate kisses. “The idea was all mine, but Jisung helped me earn the tickets. Obviously, we’re not as good at games as you are—” Jaemin winked at the flattery— “so that’s why the prize isn’t as big as the one you won for me once upon a time.”

Jaemin didn’t seem to think less of the gift because of its size. “Ah, this is the best birthday!” he yelled into the cloudy Autumn sky. He released your hand only so he could hug the llama to his chest. “Thank you so much!”

Your heart softened. “You’re welcome!” Looking into the bag, you added, “I think there’s a card too.”

You didn’t think; you knew there was a card without having to look into the bag for the thousandth time that day. The card— or, more specifically, the note inside— was what made your nerves tremble.

Although you wanted some relief from the pounding of your heart, you couldn’t quite keep your eyes from admiring Jaemin’s face as he laughed at the silly googly-eyed puppy on the card’s front. You couldn’t keep your gaze focused instead on the llama lying face up in his lap because you had to watch the lines deepen around his smile when his eyes darted up after studying your handwriting.

“Ooooh,” Jaemin whistled at having caught you studying him. “You have a crush on me!”

“I—”

“And you can’t deny it!” He flipped the card, and you were faced with your curly pink letterings. Finally, too embarrassed, you looked away. “Here it is in writing!”

Were Jaemin anyone else in the world, it would have been cruel— the clearing of his throat as he prepared to read your confession aloud. He pressed his cloud-soft palm to yours as he recited, “‘Nana, I never thought you would become my best friend’ — after Jisung, I’m assuming— ‘And I never imagined that someone so bright and beautiful could exist in my life and steal my heart, but you have. You have, and I love you, and I’m ready to tell you.’”

Jaemin looked at you again, this time without any trace of playfulness. This time, he waited for you to catch your breath.

He was good at waiting for you; he had been from the day you stomped into the cafe. He especially proved his patience over the last few months by giving you all the pleasures of friendship— all the joys of having an adorable boy to text at any hour, to laugh with too loudly at lunch, to sit with on two-person benches until seconds turned into minutes that turned into hours. He didn’t even seem tired of waiting for your romance to start because, really, it had already started.

But you were tired of waiting to call him yours.

“It’s not a crush, Jaemin. I’m in love with you.”

He must not have been surprised; he didn’t gasp, his eyes didn’t widen, he didn’t miss a beat before responding, “I really want to be your boyfriend. I don’t need the title to love you too, obviously, but I want it as soon as you’re ready. Please.”

You had been ready for a while— for as long as you could remember— but you forced yourself to wait for Jaemin. While Jaemin probably thought that you were testing his devotion, that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Contrary to Jisung’s assumption (that you were waiting for certainty of your feelings), you did not once doubt the butterflies that had not stopped fluttering in your belly since you started cuddling with the mint-green llama to fall asleep.

Maybe nobody else could understand that you were waiting for the wounds inflicted by your ex-boyfriend to heal. You never again wanted to bleed on Jaemin. You were waiting for the day that you could be as bright as the sun too.

And that day had finally come, so you wasted no time in promising, “Okay, Nana. I’m ready.”

Perhaps afraid that you would change your mind if asked to repeat yourself, or perhaps sensing your confidence, Jaemin asked for no clarification or justification of your feelings. After pumping a celebratory fist in the hair, he donned a victorious grin that you couldn’t resist capturing in a long-awaited whisper of a kiss.

BONUS SCENE:

“You’re almost as dangerous in the kitchen as Jisung is,” Jaemin fussed, knocking you away from the oven by colliding into the side of your hip with his own. He made a spectacle of pulling canary yellow oven mitts over his hands. “These keep you from getting burned by 350° cookie sheets, silly!” You rolled your eyes at the reprimand while Jaemin pulled the chocolate chip cookies out of the oven and gingerly set them on the counter. “Yeah, yeah,” you huffed, accustomed to his eagerness to show you up anywhere and everywhere— especially in the kitchen, where years of experience at the cafe gave him a clear advantage.

After turning the oven off and closing its door, Jaemin pointed and giggled at your pout. “Aw, don’t be sulky, baby!” He dropped the shedded oven mitts into their drawer. Crossing the distance between you in two steps, he pressed his palms flat on the countertop at either of your sides. He lowered his face to level with yours. “You’re kinda cute when you pout, though.”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as Jaemin’s breath ghosted your lips. It wasn’t fair that you were always the breathless one. Quickly, before he could act first, you stretched to match your lips to his.

His chocolate-flavored gasp was a short-lived reward. Always ready to adapt, always searching for a way to tease you, Jaemin was quick to turn your sweet, playful kiss into something that made your skin burn scarlet and legs turn to jelly.

“Yah!” Jisung screamed upon entering the kitchen, and you pushed Jaemin away with all of your strength. Jisung never failed to slap a hand over his eyes after catching you deep in a kiss with Jaemin. His discoveries were growing in frequency, and his tolerance was wearing thin, as evidenced by his groan. “No place is safe! Not the cafe— not even during work hours; not Y/N’s car when you two pick me up after school—”

Jaemin suggested, “You could take the bus—”

“— not the arcade, definitely not the movie theater after last time, and now not the kitchen! Now, I can’t even walk around my own home without getting jumpscared!”

Jisung so rarely raised his voice, you were stunned silent. Jaemin, meanwhile, encouraged him, “You can walk around. Maybe just knock on doors first,” just to darken your blush.

“There isn’t a door!” Jaemin pressed his back against a wall and gestured with one hand to the empty archway connecting the living room to the kitchen. “And you’re missing the point!”

“What is the point?” You hoped to make Jisung the target of Jaemin’s teasing, so as soon as Jisung dropped the hand covering his eyes to gawk at you incredulously, you wrapped your arms around Jaemin’s aproned waist and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I thought you wanted me to like Jaemin.”

“Not like this!” Jisung’s whine struck a devilish spark in Jaemin’s eyes. Your mission was a success: Jaemin’s eyes fixed on your little brother.

Frowning, Jaemin leaned into your embrace. “That’s not what you said when you gave me permission to ask Y/N out!”

“I thought she would reject you again!”

When Jaemin gasped and pretended to faint in your arms, you laughed. “Well, Jisung, will any of my boyfriends meet your standards?”

“I don’t care that you’re dating.” Jisung tore his eyes away from Jaemin’s theatrics to root through the cabinets in search of a snack. The tips of his ears were blistered pink. “It’s just— the PDA—”

“Here.” Jaemin offered him a cookie and winked as he accepted it, “It’s not PDA if we’re not in public.”

“Not this time,” Jisung grumbled through his mouthful of sugar. “Y/N, when do you think you’ll get tired of kissing Jaemin? I need to know when I can start walking around with my eyes open again.”

Jaemin climbed onto the granite countertop, poked out his bottom lip, and kicked his sneakered feet like a small child. “Yeah! When are you gonna get tired of me?”

There was only one way to answer.

“Never, of course!” You cheered before pecking at Jaemin’s now smiling lips.

“Shameless!” Jisung shrieked, running out of the kitchen with a handful of cookies. “Absolutely shameless!”

You and Jaemin shared in the golden laughter that colored your every day together.

#nct dream drabbles #na jaemin drabble #nct dream drabble #jaemin imagines #jaemin imagine #jaemin fluff #nct dream fluff #jaemin drabble #jaemin drabbles #nct dream au #jaemin fic #jaemin fanfic

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ayyyez · 4 years ago

Text

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/Reader

Contains: angst and fluff Warnings: none, except swearing and kissing? Word count: 13,102 Summary: Reader finds themselves drawn to Bakugou and when they follow this feeling they end up with more than they bargained for when they become his source of comfort every night before he goes to sleep.

Also posted to my ao3 link is here [x]

a/n: This is a very self indulgent oneshot. I got inspiration for while catching up with the anime. I just love Bakugou’s character and wanted to see him be soft. Also first time writing for Bakugou and BNHA in general but it was fun! It’s very long so I’m adding a cut.

It started after the kidnapping incident when everyone moved into the dorms.

You had been shaken to the core when it all went down but now that it was over the only person you were actually concerned about was Bakugou. There was no doubt he would hold his own but you could tell his behaviour had been off since he had come back. You were also smart enough to know he wouldn’t talk about it.

That didn’t mean you would let it go.

Everyone was sitting in the common area, buzzing with the new dorm life. From their perspective, things were smoother, more subtle in their from home to dorm life. Your chin rested in your hand, your other lingering on your lap. You watched as the others filled the silence with conversation and you instinctively turned your head to find Bakugou.

He was sitting in a corner seat, arms crossed while Kirishima talked to him about something, you couldn’t quite hear. Through the window sunlight shines onto the left side of his face and casts a shadow along the other. It highlights his hair around his forehead and the indifferent expression on his face. The sight alone brought back memories of the event, when all you could think about was saving your classmate.

It was then Mina decided it would be a good idea to check out the boys rooms and rate them accordingly. Your gaze snapped to the girls in front of you and you couldn’t help but jump on board. The excitement of moving into the dorms was an infectious thing and you hoped it would reach everyone—especially him.

As you went from floor to floor and observed each room you couldn’t help but feel something was missing. Instinctively you searched the crowd, noticing a few faces missing. It was then Kirishima mentioned Bakugou had gone to bed and something inside you snapped. You just couldn’t take the guilt eating away at you anymore.

‘Actually, I just remembered I forgot something in my room.’ You called to your friends and quickly jumped out of the elevator.

‘Oh, alright.’ Ochako called after you. ‘Meet us at the next floor soon okay!’

You nodded with a smile as the door closed.

Then you turned and headed back down toward Bakugou’s room.

It was stupid really, going into his private space in order to check on him. He was definitely not someone who would take that lightly. But getting yelled at didn’t really bother you. The fact he might bottle it all up did.

When you reached the door you took a deep breath then knocked.

There was no answer.

You knocked again this time adding, ‘It’s me, can I come in?’

‘Get lost. I’m not showing anyone my room.’ He replied, voice muffled by the door.

‘That’s not why I’m here and it’s just me.’

There was a pause which made you a little hopeful.

‘I don’t care I’m sleeping.’

‘You’re a pretty talkative sleeper.’

‘And you’re pretty damn annoying.’

‘Would you stop being an idiot and let me in.’ You sighed, pressing your forehead against the wood. ‘Please.’

There was another pause.

‘Why are you here?’

‘To talk to you.’

‘So, talk.’

‘Are you seriously going to make me shout to you through the door all night?’

‘If you plan on being here all night then I’m moving out.’

You groaned, trying to remind yourself why you were there in the first place. With a deep breath, you pushed off the door, feeling the cool wood against your fingers as they slid down.

‘If you won’t open the door then I’ll just get in there my own way.’

‘Tch, whatever.’ You heard him grunt. ‘Just get lost already.’

‘Nope, I’m coming in. 3…2…’ You paused waiting for him to protest. ‘1.’

You used your teleportation quirk and found yourself standing in the centre of his room.

The room was dark, obviously he hadn’t lied about his intention to sleep since all the lights were out. The curtain of the room was open an inch letting in the moonlight. Using the subtle light it cast you searched the rest of the room. That was when you spotted a large mound in the bed.

You took a deep breath, preparing to say something.

His eyes met yours once you did. Him lying on his bed looking up at you and you standing, (uninvited) in his room.

‘Say what you want and get out already.’ He said, a little softer than usual.

‘Yeah, yeah.’ You sighed, reaching behind in the dark until you found what felt like a chair. After a few moments of awkward manoeuvring in the dark you sat down on the chair which slid back into the desk. With more shifting and shuffling you managed to turn it to face him.

‘Well I haven’t got all night,’ Bakugou said a little louder, ‘Don’t think I won’t throw you out.’

‘I came to check on you and—’

‘I don’t need a babysitter.’

‘Would you shut up and just listen to me,’ you sighed again, trying to force yourself once again to remember why you were there. ‘Like I said, I came to check on you and to apologise.’

You could tell by his silence that he hadn’t expected that.

‘That night at camp when…’ You needed to choose your words carefully. ‘When it happened. A big part of that was my fault.’

‘How was it your fault?’ His tone soft again but still held a touch his brash nature—that touch of him.

‘Because I was there and my quirk is supposed to be for those situations, okay? I should have been faster to get to you and—’

‘Enough already!’ He sat up. ‘Don’t be dumb enough to think it was your fault, no ones going to blame you for it so why even worry?’ You heard him sigh. ‘If that’s all you’re worried about then don’t be. So stop feeling guilty over nothing. You can go now.’

‘It’s not nothing.’ You said, firmly. ‘It’s a big deal to me.’

‘Well it’s not to me so forget it.’ You heard him flop back down against his pillow. ‘If you’re that worried then learn to make your quirk better.’

‘I plan to.’

A heavy silence filled the air but it wasn’t uncomfortable just new and unexplored.

You concentrated on the way the fabric of your pants slid between you fingers as your fists balled against them. Taking a deep breath, you realised that in his own way, Bakugou had told you not to feel guilty on his account and you knew he meant it. But you also knew it was probably him blaming himself.

‘It’s not your fault either you know.’ You said, softly. ‘No one blames you.’

‘Tch.’ He rolled over toward the wall, away from you. ‘Is that all?’

Why do you take on everything alone?

Honestly, that was all you had come to say but a part of you didn’t feel like his feelings toward the matter was resolved. You needed to do more or at least try to say something to make him talk.

‘What was it like?’ You paused, before clarifying, ‘Being taken by villains who wanted to recruit you.’

‘What do you think?’ Bakugou scoffed, shifting in his bed. ‘It was an insulting pain in the ass. Are asking if I was scared?’

‘I would have been. Of course I wouldn’t let that get in the way of my trying to escape but I would have been scared. I think anyone would have been scared.’

‘I wasn’t scared of a bunch of villains.’

‘That’s not what I mean.’

‘Huh? What the hell do you mean then?’

‘Just that not knowing what was going to happen would have been awful. Wondering how long it would take before someone would come. Villains assuming they could recruit you in the first place. Getting so misjudged when you aren’t even close to being a villain.’

Bakugou didn’t reply but you heard him shift again, presumably to turn further away from you since you couldn’t make out his face anymore.

‘I know you’re fearless but I figured even you needed to vent about it. Talk to someone who isn’t just trying to find out every detail about the event to track them down, you know?’ You sighed and stood from the chair and looked out the window.

‘I’m not fearless,’ he said, quietly, ‘I just don’t worry about all the dumb stuff like you do.’

For the first time that night you smiled.

‘Yeah, I guess that’s true.’ You let out a small laugh as you approached his bed. ‘But that stuff isn’t dumb, it’s normal. Don’t act like you don’t worry about that stuff sometimes.’ You leant down on the bed and poked him.

Bakugou flinched and looked over his shoulder.

‘Get out already!’

You laughed again. ‘Aw, come on I thought we had a breakthrough.’ You poked him again. ‘Come and inspect the last of the rooms with everyone.’

‘Hell no.’

‘Geez.’ You poked him again

‘Stop it.’

‘Come on!’

Another poke.

‘No.’

You went to poke him again but he turned and grabbed out wrist before you could.

With a yelp you fell forward onto the bed, face first against his pillow, your arm slung around him.

‘What the hell get out of my bed.’ Bakugou said, a little too quietly.

When you lifted yourself up, it took you a second to realise the position you were in. As you did you got an inhale of his scent. You weren’t sure if it was his scent or the scent of his shampoo sunken into the pillow but it was… nice? Fascinating.

You turned onto your back, removing your arm from around him with a huff.

‘You’re the one pulled me onto your bed.’ You reminded him, feeling a tingling sensation shoot through the arm that had touched him.

‘The hell I did.’ He shifted next to you.

‘Yeah well, either way, it’s still your fault.’

Bakugou grumbled but he didn’t push you out like you thought he would. Maybe he didn’t mind as much as he was making out. You took it upon yourself to test that theory.

‘Well, this bed is pretty comfy,’ You said coyly, faking a yawn, ‘and I am tired.’

‘Tch.’

A smile spread across your face.

You were fairly certain that had any of the other classmates tried this they would have been blasted out the door by now. That fact alone urged you to revel in this moment as long as possible.

Kicking your house shoes off you cautiously shifted and got under the blanket. The moment you did you were surrounded by warmth. You could feel it envelop you but most especially from his back which you accidentally grazed with your arm.

‘What the hell?’ Bakugou said, looking back at you for second before shoving his face back down on the pillow.

You turned to face his back, wondering whether or not you were crossing a line.

Bakugou wasn’t the type of person to keep quiet if you were bothering him and you honestly wondered why he hadn’t made more of an effort to kick you out. By his standards it was well pretty strange. Perhaps there was something more to it.

A boldness rose in you, a boldness you hadn’t know was there.

The next thing you knew you were scooting closer to Bakugou and carefully putting an arm around him to spoon.

He tensed on impact, making no sudden movements. You swear after a few seconds his skin grew even hotter but neither of you said anything. And he didn’t explode either.

You don’t know what possessed you to hold him. Somewhere in the back of your mind the idea of making sure he was alright turned into a need to make him feel alright. Words had seem to fail when it came to Bakugou so actions served as your only resort.

Still, it did seem a little overboard but it also felt nice. Really nice.

‘You’re warm,’ you whispered without thinking, letting your eyes drift closed.

‘Obviously,’ Bakugou replied, still not moving out of your hold.

You shuffled a little bit closer to him, seeking out more of his warmth. Your body had felt so cold in comparison to the heat he was radiating. He was like your own personal heater. Oh, you wanted more of this.

His breath hitched as you shifted, causing your eyes to crack open, as if only realising what you were doing. Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea after all.

‘Do you want me to leave now?’ You whispered.

‘I want to sleep.’

That wasn’t exactly an answer.

Just when you opened your mouth to say something else he snapped.

‘Just shut up and go to sleep and I swear if you tell anyone else about this—’

‘I won’t,’ you promised, ‘Let’s sleep.’

‘Hmph.’ Bakugou grunted before pressing further into the pillow.

There was much left unsaid between the two of you but it was undoubtedly there, like a cloud veiled moon in the sky, the faint light shinning through, not entirely seen, not entirely hidden.

You snuggled your head into the pillow and pressed closer.

That night you fell asleep holding Bakugou like it was the most natural thing in the world.

In the morning you both stirred awake immersed in a new reality. Except you weren’t in the same position you had been in when you had fallen asleep. Bakugou had shifted and moved and was facing you. It took a second for your eyes to focus but when they did you found his wide eyes staring back at you.

So it hadn’t been a dream after all. Damn.

You didn’t want him to freak out about it so you tried to act casual.

Carefully, shifting your arms away, you stretched before getting out of the bed. You made sure not to do it too fast as to look like you were running away. A part of you wasn’t sure why that was important, perhaps you simply didn’t want to hurt his feelings?

‘Morning.’ You mumbled, sleepily turning back to him. ‘I should be getting back to my room.’

Bakugou didn’t say anything, just stared at you.

‘Well, see you later.’ You said, teleporting to your room.

The moment you did you dropped the casual facade and wondered what the hell you had done. You had spent the night sleeping in Bakugou’s bed and he let you. That was something you never anticipated to happen.

Slapping your hands over your cheeks you groaned. Then, determined to dive back into reality, you went about busying yourself with a shower. You needed to forget what had happened and focus on going to school.

At breakfast you made a point to act as normal as possible and fight the urge to seek him out. As you spooned every last bite into your mouth, Ochako talked about how sleeping in the dorm was refreshing, you nodded along. But you couldn’t quite invest yourself into the conversation like you normally would, too distracted by the problem you faced.

Internally, you resigned yourself to the fact that it was a one time thing. Bakugou would definitely pretend it never happened and you were fine with that. Things would go back to normal soon enough and the uncertainty bubbling inside you would surely disappear.

For the rest of the day things went on like they normally did. The class spent the day working on developing ultimate moves which quickly took your mind off things. You already had in mind some moves you could utilise but you needed to fine tune them if they were going to be ultimate. You needed to get stronger.

Then there was your costume design to reconsider.

When your eyes did finally land on Bakugou he seemed very enthralled with his ultimate move training. It brought a smile to your face seeing how pumped he was. It also made you feel at ease, knowing he wasn’t worrying about the night before. That was definitely a good thing..

‘Did you have any thoughts about costume changes?’

You turned to find Ochako standing behind you, pulling your attention away.

‘I’m thinking of same design by lighter material and lighter boots.’ You smiled, the ideas and possibilities overcoming you. ‘That way I can move faster and it will be less effort to phase from one place to another, you know?’

‘That’s really smart!’ Ochako agreed. ‘I was thinking of making a couple upgrades too! Did you want to come arrange them with me?’

‘Yeah, sounds good.’

You turned to spare one last look toward Bakugou. He was standing on top of the makeshift mountain and already looking at you. Your eyes met for a painstaking moment before you turned away and followed Ochako. You were barely aware of the goosebumps on your skin on the way out of the training room.

The day had been so packed that it went by pretty quickly and before you knew it the training was over.

‘Hey are you coming?’ Mina called out to you. ‘We are all walking back to the dorms together.’

You waved her off. ‘It’s fine, I’ll catch up soon,’ You called, ‘I just have to pack up my stuff!’

By the time you had finished packing up your things you were left alone in the classroom. It wasn’t that big a deal being left alone when you were about to walk back the dorm room where everyone was waiting. A part of you enjoyed the small moment alone.

As you walked out the door, bag on your shoulder, you were alerted to someones presence.

Turning with a defensive stance, you found Bakugou leaning against the wall.

‘Oh, hey,’ you said, stopping next to him, ‘Were you waiting for me?’

Bakugou scoffed. ‘No, why would I do that?’

You shrugged, unfazed. ‘I don’t know.’

‘I just didn’t feel like walking back chatting with everyone else, alright?’

‘Alright.’

When he didn’t say anything else or move to walk away you wondered what he was waiting for. Then an idea struck you.

‘Well since you’re still here,’ you began, clutching the strap of your bag a little tighter, ‘did you want to walk back together? I’m kind of enjoying the quiet too.’

Bakugou sighed. ‘Yeah, whatever.’

You gave him a small smile and began walking back toward the dorms together.

Bakugou stood at your side, walking with his hands buried deep in his pockets. He also looked deep in thought, judging by his frown, so you didn’t bother trying to make conversation. It was nice just walking together in silence for a change.

The quiet allowed your mind wandered to the night before and an uncertain feeling bubbled inside of you. A thousand questions penetrated your mind. (Was this his way of making things normal between the two of you again? Was that why he was waiting for you?) Perhaps he really did want to avoid everyone else and it had nothing to do with you.

Pushing out the intrusive thoughts and forcing a smile you continued on walking. Instead of dwelling on the unease you instead wondered dinner and how it was going to work with everyone else here. Perhaps there would ramen or soba.

‘Hey?’ Bakugou asked, breaking your train of thought.

‘Hm?’ You replied.

When he didn’t reply you stopped and turned, realising he wasn’t walking beside you anymore. He stopped a few steps behind you and staring at the ground.

‘What is it?’ You asked.

‘Are you going to annoy me again tonight if I slip out early?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t play dumb!’ He yelled, like he always did.

‘I’m not, you just need to be more specific!’ You parried but you underestimated how much the night before had affected him.

Bakugou could have meant several things. Were you going to go into his room and bother him or even go and sleep in his bed again. Out of all the possibilities, you knew which one was the most likely. You just weren’t sure why he was asking.

‘You know what I mean.’ He said, quietly.

‘I…hadn’t thought about tonight.’ You replied, honestly. You had been so caught up in the past night you hadn’t thought about the next one. That was Bakugou though, always thinking ahead.

When he didn’t reply or move you knew you had to say something else or the two of you would remain there frozen in silence.

‘Did you want me to come?’

‘Like I care!’ He said a little too quickly, brushing past you.

You blinked at the bluntness of his statement but it didn’t really bother you as much as it amused you. Then your smile faded a little as you realised there was nothing fragile about his voice but the words still came across to you as vulnerable.

When you didn’t follow him Bakugou turned back.

‘Hurry up or the others will be a pain and ask me where you are!’

‘Coming.’ You said, running to catch up.

The rest of the walk was made in silence. Your head spinning at the implications of Bakugou’s question and the way he was acted.

There were more questions. Did he want to make sure it wouldn’t happen again? Is that why he was waiting outside of the classroom?

Whatever the case you decided going to his room tonight would not be a good idea. Not that it bothered you; you had already told yourself it was a onetime thing. A sudden fluttery feeling arose inside you as you brushed by him and you each went your seperate ways.

The excitement of dorm life still bubbled amongst the girls and Ochako decided that you should show Tsuyu the rooms. Ultimately, you got dragged along since you had missed out on some too.

They assumed you had gone to bed the night before so Ochako filled you in on everything you missed. You wanted to return the gesture and tell her what had really happened to you but you knew you couldn’t. It wasn’t the sort of secret you could share even with your friend. After all it wasn’t just your secret.

Time moved pretty quickly after that.

Dinner came around and after came cleaning up followed by everyone heading to shower or retreating to their own rooms. You took the opportunity to shower and return to your room, reflecting on the day.

The whole time you worried you had crossed a line with Bakugou. Even you, as forward a person as you were, couldn’t deny that sleeping in the same bed as him had been weird. Especially how calming and warm it had felt. Bakugou was anything but calming when it came to day to day life.

Deciding to ignore that thought for now, you came back to the common area to see if anyone was still awake. That’s when you heard the array of voices; the girls talking in one part of the common area and the boys in the other.

The moment you entered the room your eyes met with Bakugou’s. You stopped, exchanging a long glance before he looked away. With an internal shrug you turned toward the girls and joined in on their conversation. Something about Ochako being in love.

You smiled and asked her if it were true. It only made her blush and freak out.

‘I don’t think she is going to tell us.’ You chuckled. ‘Maybe we should let her be.’

Momo agreed.

‘Aw come on Ochako!’ Mina insisted.

‘You know,’ you began, ‘maybe she would be more willing if you all talked about who you loved.’ You raised your brows at Mina for emphasis.

‘But I don’t have anyone!’ Mina groaned.

‘Then maybe Ochako doesn’t either.’

Mina pouted but relented and you simply shrugged.

‘Fine we’ll drop it,’ Mina agreed, before adding, ‘For now!’

You chuckled again. ‘Good enough.’

A burst of laughter and yelling came from the boys sat across the room. You turned toward the noise to find Bakugou standing.

‘Would you shut up!’ He yelled, before turning to walk away. ‘I’m going to bed!’ He shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked by the couch you were sitting on.

The moment Bakugou walked by he looked up at you, your eyes meeting once again. They lingered for a moment and you were overcome by a profound want—the want to reach out to him—to sooth him. Then he looked away and hurried by in a huff.

There was something about that look you couldn’t shake. In fact, it looked like he was trying to tell you something. It resembled the look he gave you earlier when you walked home, when he was telling you hurry up.

No, that couldn’t have been it. He would have said something, right?

Shaking your head of the thought, you turned your attention back to the girls. For about five painful minutes you tried to get re-involved in the conversation but you just couldn’t concentrate. There were too many questions on your mind. Too many things unanswered gathered inside you like a pile of rocks weighing you down.

‘I’m going to bed,’ You said, standing up abruptly. ‘See you in the morning.’

The girls bided you goodnight and you were gone, walking in long strides toward the elevator. You could feel the heat in your cheeks with every step, the adrenaline pumping inside of you.

Pushing the button for the fourth floor, the doors shut in front of you, sealing off the voices of the common room. All the babble disappeared and the silence hit you like a cold shower. As the elevator began to ascend with a jolt, you felt somewhat numb. Your mind jumped from thought to thought without focus.

The doors dinged open and that fluttering feeling emerged in your stomach.

The question remained: should you go straight to your room or should you go and see Bakugou again?

Earlier in the day you had decided that you wouldn’t but that look he gave you made you question that decision.

Hurry up.

Hurry up meant he wanted you to come.

The doors began to close when you shoved your arm out to stop it. It opened with another ding and you leapt out onto your floor, heading to your room.

When you came face to face with your door, you froze. Even as your hand came to the handle it hesitated. Something in the back of your mind screamed at you to go and figure out what he had meant. You couldn’t ignore it—that wasn’t who you were.

‘Damn it.’ You muttered, releasing your hand from the handle.

Then without another thought, you teleported into Bakugou’s room.

‘About time.’

You turned to find Bakugou in his bed, hands behind his head and looking up at you. It was bizarre to witness how his face lit up at the sight of you. He probably didn’t even realise he was changing expressions.

‘If you wanted me to come you could have just said so when we walked home.’

‘Who cares? You figured it out.’

‘Actually, I’m still confused.’ You took a seat on the edge of the bed. ‘Why did you want me to come?’

Bakugou rolled his eyes. ‘Just hurry up, already!’

He really had a knack for ordering you to hurry up without telling you the what for. You did have a pretty good idea but a part of you still wanted to make him work for it.

‘Hurry up and what?’

He didn’t reply.

‘Fine.’ You relented, lifting up the covers and crawling in beside him.

Bakugou tensed a little as your arm grazed his but he didn’t move away.

You manoeuvred under the covers until you were both on your backs, side by side and staring at the ceiling. The urge to recoil was there, palpable in how he tensed under your softest touch but neither of you moved. There was a subconscious awareness of your surroundings, fine-tuned into each other, you could feel it.

‘You really are warm.’ You whispered, snuggling back against the mattress.

‘Shut up.’ He said, but it was quiet, like he the only meaning behind it was that he had nothing else to say.

You frowned a little.

‘What’s wrong with saying—’

‘If you’re gonna talk at least talk about something else.’

‘Alright,’ you said thinking of another topic. ‘Do you think you’re ready for the licensing exams?’

Bakugou snorted. ‘Of course I am!’

You chuckled. ‘I wish I was that confident.’

‘Don’t be stupid, just work on controlling your quirk better.’

‘It’s not my quirk I’m worried about.’ You said, shocked at your own honesty. ‘I’m just worried about making the right decisions when facing so many unknown opponents.’

‘Yeah well…’ Bakugou paused, ‘Tch, just work on your weaknesses if you’ve already developed your ultimate moves.’

You turned you face slightly to look at him.

Bakugou was still staring at the ceiling but his expression was softer than usual. God, was he actually trying to make you feel better?

‘That’s what I aim to do.’ You turned back to the ceiling. ‘It’s better to worry about my weaknesses than pretend they're not there at all, otherwise I won’t get stronger.’

‘Hn.’

The two of you stayed there for awhile in silence, staring up at the ceiling your arms occasionally grazing when either of you shifted. It was nice and calming, as though all your worries had been taken away.

‘Let’s go to sleep.’ Bakugou said, turning onto his side away from you. There was an implicit don’t you dare reject me thrown underneath the statement.

‘Alright.’ You turned the same way and automatically slid an arm over him.

Bakugou tensed again but he didn’t protest.

‘Goodnight,’ you whispered, closing your eyes.

He grunted in reply.

And just like that you began a routine.

Things in your day to day life went back to normal. The little anxieties you had toward the situation vanished from your mind. And you assumed it was the same for Bakugou.

During the day you attended the summer courses with your classmates and worked on getting stronger for the licensing exam. During the night you would continue working, spend time with your class mates and then, inevitably, you would find yourself in Bakugou’s room.

He never asked you to come (after that one time) but he was always expecting you. One night you confirmed that when you were a lot later than usual, studying up on something that could help you control your quirk better when you teleported into his room. He was annoyed at you for taking so long and even rolled over for you to get in.

Some nights the two of you would talk about the day or have next to nothing conversations that warmed your heart. Other nights when you were both exhausted you would climb into bed and fall asleep straight away. No matter what happened it always ended in Bakugou rolling over and you following suit.

It was a comfortable routine that you both kept a secret.

Outside of that you and Bakugou didn’t interact too much. You didn’t know whether it was because he was worried about the secret being exposed or if it was because you were afraid it meant something more than it did. It was better this way—that’s what you told yourselves.

Then the licensing exams came around. You were granted a license and Bakugou wasn’t. It was something that would hit him hard.

That night you were feeling exhausted but you were worried about both Todoroki and Bakugou since they had failed. Todoroki wasn’t the kind to open up to you so you merely wished him luck for next time. Bakugou on the other hand, well, you were worried enough to go to his room. That worry grew exponentially when you realised he wasn’t there.

An uneasy feeling resided in the pit of your stomach as you looked around his empty room. A part of you wondered whether this was him telling you to go back to your own room tonight. On the other hand, you couldn’t imagine him avoiding his own room merely because of you. He would just tell you to leave and that would be that.

Then there was the last time he had disappeared—kidnapped by villains. The thought of that made you more uneasy. You considered going to tell Aizawa but if you were wrong then Bakugou would only get into trouble. That was the last thing he needed.

You decided to bide your time and wait for him.

What you hadn’t expected was that he would come back ridiculously late and beaten up, covered in bruises and bandages.

As the door clicked open and he entered, Bakugou froze when he saw you, his mouth open and his eyes wide. It was like he hadn’t expected you to be there an —oh you actually waited? When he walked in and looked down, letting the door gently shut behind him.

‘What—’

‘Did you come to gloat?’ He cut you off.

It was like a punch to the gut accompanied by a light fluttering feeling in your stomach. You never realised that something small, like that assumption, could make you feel so deeply.

‘Of course not.’ You stood from the desk chair and took a few steps closer. ‘What happened to you?’

‘Nothing, it doesn’t matter.’

He still wouldn’t look at you.

‘Yes, it does.’

Bakugou’s fists clenched by his side before they, just as quickly, unclenched again.

‘I had unfinished business with Deku alright, the rest is none of your business.’

‘Alright,’ You exhaled, relieved it wasn’t something worse. ‘Are you okay?’

He looked up at you with wide eyes. He hadn’t expected that.

‘I’m fine.’

You nodded before asking, ‘Is Midoriya, alright?’

Bakugou frowned. ‘Why do you care?’

‘You obviously fought, I’m making sure everyone involved is alright.’

‘Whatever, he’s fine.’ Bakugou sat down on the bed and looked away. ‘You didn’t have to come here.’ There was something heavy that weighed on his mind. You could feel it just by looking at him, like a heavy weight pushing his feelings down.

‘I know but I was worried.’

‘Tch.’ His fists balled against his pants. ‘Why?’

‘Because of what happened today.’ You took a step closer. ‘Because when I got here you were no where to be seen. I was worried something had happened to you.’

‘You think I’m that weak?’ You saw the grip on his pants tighten. ‘That I’d easily get into trouble again with some villains or something?’

His words filled you with guilt. You had thought the worst but not because you thought he was weak. A part of you had seen he was vulnerable which is why you had reached out to him in the first place but you never ever saw it as a weakness.

‘I didn’t know what to think.’ You replied. ‘But I know you’re not weak. The one thing you have never been is weak.’

Bakugou’s hands unfurled and sat flat against his thighs.

‘It’s late,’ he said, getting under the covers. ‘I’m going to sleep.’

You didn’t know if that was an invitation or him telling you to get out.

Again, you reminded yourself that had he wanted you to leave he would likely have used his words, very loudly, to tell you.

Taking a deep breath you stepped toward the bed and lifted up the covers. Then you cautiously manoeuvred under them, trying your hardest not to bump Bakugou in the process. It would be like poking the bear if you did.

Feeling very much awake you stayed on your back, staring at the ceiling. Beside you Bakugou shifted, pushing himself further into the mattress. You smiled at the action and wondered what he was thinking.

‘Hurry up and go to sleep.’ He grumbled, voice slightly muffled by the pillow.

A small smile came to your lips as you rolled over and put your arm on top of his. Your fingertips loosely slid between his as you pressed against him.

Bakugou flinched at the new contact but he didn’t pull away. Instead he surprised you by enclosing his fingers around yours and tugging you closer.

That night neither of you fell asleep straight away.

You were awake thinking about what could have happened between him and Midoriya. And you didn’t know it but he was awake, very conscious of you breath tickling the back of his neck and the way you made him feel so comfortable and confused at the same time.

Something shifted between you and Bakugou after that, like another wall between the two of you had been torn down.

Since Midoriya and Bakugou were on house arrest they missed out on classes. Each night when you went to Bakugou’s room he would pester you about what he had missed. You shrugged with a smile and apologised since you and the rest of the class were made to keep it a secret.

Every time Bakugou would grumpily go to bed and sulk and you would tease that maybe you should sleep in your own bed. He would never stop you but he would grumble to himself and mumble a ‘Whatever.’ He would also stop asking you about class for the rest of the night.

Then the subject of work study was brought up and explained by the Big Three.

Before you knew it you were doing your work study with Kirishima and Tamaki at Fatgum’s agency. That meant more days and nights away from school and working out in the field. It also meant more questions from Bakugou when you returned.

You couldn’t remember him being this talkative before. All he wanted to do was find out what he was missing out on. It was probably more of a blow to him that both you and Kirishima were out in the field where as he was left alone. You two were the closest to him after all, although you weren’t sure if he would use the term friends. Not when you were concerned anyway.

One night you didn’t get back in until 3am and you were thoroughly exhausted. You needed to recharge before you could so much as think about using your quirk. It was a miracle you made it through a shower before you flopped down on your bed.

Although your body was exhausted your mind was still racing with the nights events and you couldn’t sleep.

Then there was a knock at the door.

You groaned in response.

There was another knock.

‘Open the damn door.’ Bakugou’s voice carried in a harsh whisper.

With an exaggerated groan you pushed yourself up and opened the door. Your eyelids were heavy, barely able to stay open as you looked up at Bakugou.

He looked down at you with a frown.

‘Well…’ He said, scratching the back of his neck. ‘Move, already.’

You stepped to the side to allow him in and shut the door.

‘What,’ you paused to yawn before continuing, ‘are you you doing here?’

‘What do you think?’ He was harsh, almost angry but you weren’t sure why. ‘I heard Kirishima get back ages ago.’

Ah, that was it.

It dawned on you why he was so irritated, remembering how you felt back at the night of the licensing exams.

‘I didn’t want to wake you. Plus, I’m too exhausted to use my quirk after tonight.’ Then you realised something. ‘Wait. Did you wait up for me?’

Bakugou immediately looked away and if your lights were on, you swore you would have seen a blush across his cheeks.

You let out a soft laugh.

‘Sorry, I was trying to be nice but I just made you worry.’

‘Who said I was worried?’ His gaze snapped back to yours with a frown. ‘What happened to you?’ His eyes observing the tape on your cheek.

‘Oh this?’ Your hand touched it absentmindedly. ‘Some jerk landed a hit but I landed more, no big deal.’

His frown deepened but he didn’t say anything.

‘Anyway,’ you continued, swaying a little. ‘I’m really tired so…’ You fell froward your forehead landing against his chest.

You were more tired than you realised.

Bakugou brought a hand to your arm to steady you, steering you upright.

‘Come on, let’s go to bed.’

‘I can’t teleport, remember?’

‘I meant sleep here, idiot.’ He guided you down to the bed then released you, letting you do the rest.

Once you shifted under the covers you grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled him down.

‘What the hell,’ he muttered, shifting under the covers beside you. ‘Such a pain.’

It was different to how you two usually slept but things between you had changed. You were sure you could both feel it.

Beside you Bakugou remained on his back making no move to turn over.

With a sigh you shifted to face him then slung an arm over him like you usually did. He relaxed at your touch and shifted closer. You could feel his gaze on you but you were too tired to open your eyes or comment on it. All you cared about right then and the was sleeping.

‘Your mattress is soft.’ Bakugou said, quietly.

‘Is it?’ You mumbled. ‘Hadn’t noticed.’

‘Hn.’

Then you realised. ‘Actually, this is the first time I’ve slept in my bed.’

Bakugou let out a sharp breath, as though he had just realised it too. You felt him tense a little, his gaze still burning a hole through you. You contented yourself by wriggling a little against him then relaxing again.

Just as you were drifting off you swore you heard him let out a soft laugh but you weren’t sure. What you did feel was his hand settling over yours just as sleep took you.

In the morning you awoke in the same position.

You stirred, gently pressing your cheek into the pillow with a soft groan. As your eyes cracked open they met Bakugou’s staring back at you. He was wide awake.

‘What time is it?’ You mumbled, letting your eyes close again.

‘Later than usual.’ He replied.

‘School?’

‘Geez how tired are you?’ He scoffed. ‘Not for you. I got extra lessons though remember.’

‘Oh, that sucks.’ You sighed, ready to drift off again.

‘Hey don’t go back to sleep!’ He nudged you. ‘I need to get back to my room, I’ve got to leave.’

You groaned in reply.

‘Tch.’ His tone softened a little. ‘Come on.’

‘What do you need me for? Just go to your room.’

‘Are you stupid?’ When you didn’t reply he added, ‘Everyones waking up now. I can’t just walk out of here without them spotting me so I need your stupid quirk to get me there!’

‘Oh right.’

Without thinking you activated your quirk, teleporting you to Bakugou’s room but being half asleep you miscalculated a little. Instead on landing on the bed you two landed with a thud on his floor.

‘Damn it!’ Bakugou yelled. ‘What was that?’

‘Sorry.’ You said, sitting up with a yawn. ‘I barely slept.’

Bakugou’s expression softened a little.

‘Just go back and sleep. I’ve gotta get ready.’

You nodded, still drowsy. ‘Bye, have fun.’

Then you were gone, teleporting back to the warmth of your bed. Snuggling beneath the covers, letting what was left of Bakugou’s scent fill your senses, you slowly drifted back to sleep.

When you awoke you went downstairs to do your catch up work from the classes you had missed with Kirishima. You were glad you weren’t doing your work study alone. Kirishima was also fun to be around so the time flew and you didn’t feel so anxious about missing out on so much work.

By the time the two of you were done it was dinner time.

The two of you began to ate, talking and laughing between bites. Then Kirishima turned to the entrance with a smile.

‘Oh, hey guys! You’re back just in time for dinner, come join us!’

You turned to where his gaze shifted to see Bakugou and Todoroki walk in. Noticing Bakugou looked a little angry you gave him a smile.

‘Yeah, come join us!’ You called.

‘I don’t wanna eat with him!’ Bakugou yelled, gesturing to Todoroki.

Todoroki didn’t seemed fazed by this, walking instead further down the table to join another group.

‘You didn’t have to be a jerk.’ You said, unamused.

‘I just spent all day with icy hot.’ He scoffed. ‘I’m getting some dinner.’

Bakugou left to get his meal and you and Kirishima turned to each other laughing.

‘So, anyway,’ Kirishima began, ‘Fatgum said next time we would be patrolling in pairs during the day.’

‘Yeah, it’ll be like regular hero duties,’ you replied, ‘did you do much of that when you did your internship?’

‘Yeah a little but it was more them showing us rather than us participating.’

You nodded. ‘Same here.’ Then a smile came to your face. ‘To think we are finally getting a feel for doing regular hero duties. It feels surreal.’

‘Yeah, I just don’t want to get too cocky and mess up.’

‘Aha, now you’re making me nervous.’ You shook you head. ‘Don’t worry I have faith in us.’

‘Me too!’

‘Me too, what?’

The two of you turned to find Bakugou there, holding his tray off food and looking at you.

‘Oh, just work study stuff.’ You said, trying to tone down the enthusiasm.

You felt bad rubbing in the work study in his face while he was still working toward his license. You could tell Kirishima was doing the same when he followed your lead.

‘Tch.’ Bakugou sat down next to Kirishima and began eating.

‘How are the extra classes?’ Kirishima asked.

‘Lame.’ Bakugou replied, not looking up. ‘You two were talking about the work study.’

Kirishima’s face lit up. ‘Yeah you should have seen us yesterday!’ He launched into recounting the events of the night before.

You smiled and nodded, explaining things whenever Kirishima turned his attention to you. The whole time you felt Bakugou’s gaze on you and you couldn’t help but feel something was different. You spared him the occasional glance, not wanting to alert Kirishima to anything but you were certain he was too involved in his storytelling to notice.

When he was done you excused yourself to go shower. You spared Bakugou one sympathetic smile as you stood before bidding them both farewell.

The shower gave you time to relax and wash your hair properly. The night before you had been to tired and just rinsed it. Now, you finally got a chance to give it a deep clean. It also gave you time to think about everything until your mind drifted to that one thing that seemed to always nag at you: Bakugou.

There was something off about him at dinner but you couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was. You considered that perhaps you were to hyper aware of each other. Maybe you were reading too much into it.

After your shower you went straight to your room. It was late and you needed time to recharge your social battery. Plus, you still felt a little tired from yesterday. You barely had time to sit down on your bed when there was a knock at your door.

‘Who is it? You asked.

There was a long pause.

‘It’s me.’

Bakugou.

‘Come in.’

The door opened slowly and Bakugou hesitated before stepping inside. The door clicked shut behind him and his eyes met yours.

A heavy silence fell between you.

‘Is everything okay?’ You asked, gently.

‘I didn’t feel like waiting.’ He said, quickly. ‘Not like yesterday.’

‘It’s still early. I was going to come soon anyway.’

Bakugou huffed then looked up and around your room.

‘Did you…’ You watched him eyeing your room with curiosity, ‘Did you want to stay here?’

‘I don’t care.’ His eyes caught on something. He stepped to the side and looked over your shelves, eyes lingering on certain items before jerking his head to the next.

‘Let me just check over my work before I go to sleep.’ You stood and walked over to your desk, getting out the catch up work you had done earlier. ‘You can sit on the bed if you want.’

‘Yeah.’ He replied, distracted.

You smiled and began reading through your work.

Bakugou didn’t shift from his position in front of the shelves.

‘Is this you?’ He asked, pointing to a photo.

You turned to see which one it was then nodded.

‘Yeah that’s me with my parents.’

Bakugou grunted in acknowledgment then turned away and went to lie down on the bed.

You turned back and continued going through your notes. As you went you found a few grammatical errors in your answers that you touched up. Then you checked all the notes you had made for the new math formulas.

‘What’s with all the books?’ Bakugou asked.

You paused, processing what he had said.

‘I like to read.’ You replied, immediately returning to your work.

Bakugou grunted again. He didn’t speak the rest of the time you spent checking your work. You were surprised he had asked you questions about yourself in the first place. You tried not to let him distract you.

When you were finally done you placed the completed work in your bag. Then you reached your arms up and stretched, craning you neck from side to side. That was when you turned to find his eyes glued on you. It caught you a little off guard.

‘Something wrong?’ You asked, lowering your arms.

‘No.’ He said, still looking at you.

‘Right.’

You walked over to the bed and waited for him to move. When he didn’t you frowned.

‘So are you going to let me go to bed?’ You asked.

‘What do you think I’ve been hanging around for?’ Bakugou shifted under the covers and huffed.

You crawled in next to him like you usually did and cuddled up beside him.

The two of you didn’t talk. You also noticed that he also felt incredibly tense under your touch. He wasn’t relaxing and you were certain he felt hotter than usual.

‘What’s wrong?’ You asked.

‘Nothing.’ He replied.

You scoffed. ‘Yeah, right.’

Retracting your arm and rolling onto your back you sighed.

Bakugou growled and rolled onto his back too, his head turning to face you.

‘I told you, it’s nothing.’

‘Yeah right,’ you laughed, dryly. ‘I can feel your frustration from here, whatever it is that’s making you like this.’

‘Don’t be stupid.’ He muttered.

You sighed. ‘Look if you're worried about the licensing makeup exam then don’t be. I’m sure you’ll get it no problem.’

‘Obviously, I will.’ He was a little too smug for your liking but you ignored it.

‘And,’ you continued, ‘If you’re worried about getting a work study then I’m sure you’ll get one easy too. Even if you don’t you’ve always got Kirishima as a connection to Fatgum so you could always—’

‘Shut up!’ Bakugou snapped. ‘I’m not worried, alright!’

‘Shh!’ You turned to him with a frown. ‘You want the other’s to hear you?’

He groaned and turned to face the ceiling.

‘Look, I won’t pretend to know what is bothering you but don’t just bottle it up like you usually do.’ When he didn’t say anything you continued. ‘I’m not saying you have to tell me but you can if you want to.’

Bakugou didn’t say anything right away. He contented himself by staring at something on the ceiling.

You watched him, sensing some of his frustrations calming as his body relaxed next to you. An all consuming feeling filled you as you continued to look at him. It began in the pit of stomach and trailed up to your sternum. You were then very much aware of your heart beating, echoing through your body.

‘It’s nothing.’ Bakugou said, tone softening. ‘It was just something stupid. Let’s sleep.’

‘Okay.’ You said, cuddling up against his side gain. ‘So warm,’ you whispered without thinking.

Bakugou didn’t say anything, just pushed himself a little closer to you.

For the second time since this thing between you two started, you fell asleep in your bed with Bakugou. You did have to admit that your mattress was a lot softer than his.

After that things grew a little distant between the two of you. It was expected on his part, with Bakugou it was always one step forward two steps back. But for you it had to do with something bigger and beyond your control.

You and the other work study students were informed about Eri and the operation. All of your emotional and mental energy channeled into the operation.

Between the assignment and the secrecy, it made it hard to be your usual self. You weren’t the only one either and your classmates were beginning to notice. It wasn’t something you could change until you had answers.

Most of the day you were emotionally checked out, constantly wondering whether or not they would succeed in finding her location. Ochako and Tsuyu stayed by you most of the day exchanging uncertain glances. It was the only thing you could do since you couldn’t discuss it with other people around. It would do more harm that good.

At lunch you sat with Kirishima whose own somber mood matched your own.

‘It’s hard not being able to say anything and pretend.’ You confessed, forcing yourself to eat your ramen.

‘I know.’ He said, staring at his own food. ‘I hate sitting around and waiting.’

‘Me too but imagine how Mirio and Midoriya must feel.’ You sighed, letting your noodles fall back into you bowl as you slumped back in your chair.

‘What the hell happened to you two?’

You looked up to see Bakugou join you.

‘Work study stuff.’ Kirishima mumbled, still staring at his food.

Bakugou looked at you, silently asking a million questions.

‘Sorry, we can’t talk about it.’ You said, not even able to force a smile.

‘Yeah, sorry.’ Kirishima added.

A heavy silence fell between you. You were torn between keeping your emotional switch off and crying. You could feel a lump in your throat.

‘Stop mopping about and eat already!’ Bakugou said, slamming his fist down.

That seemed to wake both of you from you somber trance as you exchanged glances. Without saying anything you both began to eat your food. You were thankful you were distracted from crying. The last thing you wanted was people worrying about you.

Bakugou sighed, sparing each of you a glance before he turned his attention to his own food.

You knew by that interaction alone there was going to be questions later. You couldn’t bring yourself to worry about that. You simply didn’t have the energy.

‘What do we have next period?’ You asked, staring down at your bowl.

‘Math.’ Kirishima and Bakugou said at the same time.

You sighed and leant your cheek into the palm of your hand.

‘Just what this day needed.’ You mumbled, bringing the noodles to your mouth.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. You weren’t sure if the notes you took made sense. If you weren’t already missing days of school for work study you would have stayed in bed. Even the lecture of Iida would have been worth it.

You spent a lot of time avoiding your classmates when you could and keeping to yourself. The possibility of them picking up on this behaviour was high but there wasn’t anything else you could do. It was painful to force a smile and lie. They would understand in the end. You just had to be patient.

When you returned to your room you contemplated staying there. You knew that if you went to see Bakugou he would just ask questions. Then you remembered that night he sought you out. Maybe this time he would figure out to stay away. Yeah right.

Taking a deep breath you teleported to his room.

Bakugou was sitting on his bed, turning toward you when you arrived.

‘Hey.’ You said, half-heartedly, looking down at the floor.

‘Hey.’ He replied.

You stood there expectantly, waiting for the questions. When they didn’t come you looked up at him with an uncertain expression. But Bakugou wasn’t looking at you, he was looking down at his hands.

‘Everything okay?’ You asked.

He stopped and looked up a little.

‘Shouldn’t I be asking you that?’

‘You know I can’t—’

‘You can’t talk about it, yeah I know. That’s all I’ve heard from you.’

‘I’m sorry. It’s not intentional or personal.’ You took a deep breath and sat beside him. ‘It’s just really important.’ You let your face fall into your hands.

‘Yeah, I figured.’

Giving your eyes a gentle rub you then removed your hands from your face. You reminded yourself to keep it together.

‘Thank you.’

He turned, looking a little startled. ‘For what?’

‘For not asking about it again, even though I know you’re dying to ask.’

‘Please, I’m not stupid.’

‘I know you’re not.’ You said, putting your hand on his.

Bakugou flinched, looking down at your hands. For a hairsplitting second you thought he was going to keep it there but he quickly snatched his hand back and turned away.

It was amusing to see him in this almost bashful way but you didn’t dare laugh. Instead you simply smiled and placed your hand back in your lap.

‘I’m going to bed,’ he mumbled, the line he always used to retreat and avoid the conversation.

You stood up feeling it shift under you.

Once he was settled he turned back to you. ‘Don’t tell me you still don’t get it.’

You smirked and hopped in beside him.

‘I’m not going anywhere.’ You whispered, shifting to settle in.

Before you could settle completely Bakugou shifted and turned to face you.

You froze, waiting him to say something or do something but he just stared at you. There was a soft crease on his brow, his eyes looking at you like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. There was a pain somewhere behind his gaze you could see it.

On instinct, you reached out to him, extending every part of you that you could emotionally muster and placed your hand on his cheek. It grew hot at your touch and his eyes squeezed shut.

The thought of removing it reached the forefront of your mind but vanished when you felt his hand on top of yours. He clutched your hand and kept his palms pressed to his cheek. Don’t let go.

You swiped your thumb away from your pointer finger and across his burning cheek then back again. I won’t let go.

There was something he was trying to tell you. Something he wanted to communicate but couldn’t. You felt it, felt the same pain enveloping you but you couldn’t determine the source. The things you felt were merely a byproduct of his emotions.

Bakugou opened his eyes and looked at you.

That all-consuming feeling returned again. All you wanted to do was wrap your arms around him and pull him close and oh, suddenly you wanted to kiss him. It wasn’t even your own selfish desires that formed that want. It was an act that served take away his pain, as if by kissing him you could take all those frustrations he felt onto yourself.

Instead of kissing Bakugou you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

There was so many things going on. You weren’t thinking straight. All the stress was building up and obviously you were projecting onto Bakugou. It was something you had imagined, nothing more.

It was only after you opened your eyes again that you realised his hand was no longer there.

His eyes watched you intently. Your hand on his cheek burned. Everything between you two buzzed and screamed and you couldn’t bare it any longer.

You retrieved your hand slowly and he moved back first—like he always did.

‘We should sleep,’ your voice scrapped against your throat. Your mind reeling with theories, to circumvent the only logical conclusion of that burning touch into one that would suit your own needs.

A crease formed across Bakugou’s brow then, with a huff, he turned back around without another word.

Suddenly, the gap between you too filled with emptiness.

The intensity of your emotions confused you and hollowed you out. You wanted to reach out to Bakugou again, to hold him like you usually did but that need was now tainted with uncertainty. You attempted to regain your composure, afraid to reach out to him again and give yourself more ideas.

—No, something isn’t right.

In one swift motion, you turned away from him, burying yourself beneath the covers. Your eyes squeezed shut and you drew a shallow breath. In and out in and out. It wasn’t long before you relaxed and eased into a deep slumber.

Something was vibrating against the bed side table. Next you you, Bakugou swore groggily.

You blindly slapped the bedside table looking for the source of the buzzing when you found your phone. Stifling a yawn, you pulled it to you face and squinted when the light blinded you.

Bakugou mumbled something against your neck.

Straining your eyes you deciphered the messages, one from Ochako and the others from—Damn.

The moment you read the update your body stiffened and your eyes widened.

“Let’s meet in the common area.”

It was only when you went to get up that you realised Bakugou was wrapped around you. And his grip was strong. His breath tickled the back of your neck.

Squirming in his hold you attempted to shift his arms.

Bakugou grumbled and pushed himself closer to you in an attempt to stop you moving.

‘I have to get up.’ You whispered.

He mumbled something impossible to make out.

You rolled your eyes.

‘Come on.’ You squirmed again. ‘I promise, I’ll be back.’

Using more force you broke his hold and jumped out of bed.

‘You really are different when you’re half asleep.’ You mumbled, watching him resettle, his arm reaching out for the loss of warmth.

Bakugou looked so childlike in his sleepy state, entangled in the sheet and sleeping on his side with an arm reached out to where you once sat. A temptation arose, to reach out to him, to ghost your fingers over his profile: over his forehead and down to the tip of his nose. But the memories of the night before rushed to the forefront of your mind and your hand burned at the thought.

Then you teleported back to your room and went downstairs to meet the other work study classmates. It was time to take action and find Eri.

That day you broke your promise and didn’t return to Bakugou’s room. Instead, you retired to your room and left before he even got out of bed.

A lot of things happened that day, during the rescue operation.

In the end Midoriya was able to rescue Eri but each of you took a hit and went down hard. Many of the heroes found themselves being taken the hospital, yourself included.

When you woke up in the hospital room you went to sit up when a searing pain overcame you arms. Looking down at your arms and legs you noticed they were bandaged from top to bottom. It was a little surreal waking up safe and away from the fight.

It was also a little strange waking up alone.

‘You look like hell.’

You looked up to find Bakugou standing at the end of the bed, hands shoved in his pockets and an indifferent expression on his face.

Then you remembered. ‘Kirishima and the others are they—’

‘How do you think I got the memo to be here?’ He sighed. ‘They got beat up pretty bad and are couple rooms down but they’re fine.’

‘Oh, good.’ You looked back down at your bandaged hands, feeling the sting beneath them.

‘What the hell happened?’

You pressed your lips together then looked up to meet his gaze. His frown was deep, he was angry but you weren’t sure why.

‘The rescue operation was to save a little girl.’

‘Yeah I got the logistics of it idiot. I meant why the hell didn’t you tell me you were leaving.’ His jaw clenched and his expression darkened.

‘I’m sorry, I tried but I didn’t want to wake you.’

‘That’s a crappy excuse.’

‘It’s not like I could have told you what was happening.’

‘You could have said something!’

You hadn’t expected this reaction from him but now you were watching him you realised there was no other way he could possibly react. Something inside him hurt.

‘Why are you angry?’ It was a question asked not to prod but to understand.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ He looked down for a moment. ‘You say you are going to train and make your quirk better. Then you leave without saying anything and now you're burnt all over from overusing your quirk.’

‘If I hadn’t used my quirk then more people would have died!’ You snapped, a newly realised anger surging through you. ‘I’ll heal up fine in a few days so what’s a few burns compared to their lives? Even with my quirk I couldn’t save everyone!’

‘You idiot,’ Bakugou said. ‘That’s not your fault.’

‘Maybe not but maybe if I had been stronger I could have done something more.’

Bakugou didn’t answer and you watched him look over and out the window beside your bed. The rays from the afternoon sun shone through onto him. His features were soft in this light, his expression didn’t look so hardened.

‘There’s no point worrying about what you could have done all the time. Just focus on getting stronger instead.’

You took a deep breath, letting it sit in your lungs before exhaling again. With that you already felt lighter.

‘I know.’ You whispered. ‘That’s what you said last time.’

There had been something about his words, something underlying that told you he knew how you felt. Perhaps he harboured some of the same guilt you had but for other reasons—he had his own reasons.

When he didn’t say anything you asked, ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing.’ His voice was dry. He cleared his throat and turned back to face you.

It had been weeks since the two of you had fallen into the routine. All that extra time spent talking about everything and about nothing. You even started eating meals together and talking outside of the dorm rooms. Sometimes you argued and it took willpower on both sides not to lose yourselves to the familiarity of standing on opposite sides.

Now, you wanted to push further than merely being on the same side.

‘Always so secretive.’ You sighed and challenged his gaze. ‘What is nothing to you, Bakugou?’

‘Tch.’ He was deflecting. ‘Why do you care?’

—Because you care.

‘I think we established a long time ago that I care about you,’ Your brow creased a little before you continued, ‘The question is: what am I to you?’

Bakugou blushed at the question. It wasn’t a dark, obvious blush, in fact you probably wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t watching for a reaction. It was soft and uncharacteristic but at the same time very fitting. His frown deepened.

‘What does it matter?’ He deflected, shifting on his feet.

For someone who was brutally honest about everything else, Bakugou definitely was not in touch with his feelings. Or at least had no intention being open about them.

‘Well maybe you should think about that before you come in here lecturing me.’ You hadn’t meant to be harsh but you couldn’t hold back. ‘I mean if you don’t care then maybe this thing between us…whatever it is, should stop.’

‘What the hell, of course I care—’

The door to your room opened and the nurse doing the rounds entered.

‘Oh, good you are awake.’ The nurse approached the bed. ‘I’ve got to change the bandages so your friend will have to wait outside while I check everything over.’

You nodded. ‘That’s okay,’ you turned to Bakugou, ‘I’ll see you later.’

He mumbled a goodbye before leaving, the door sliding shut behind him.

It was nighttime when you and Kirishima returned to the dorm building. Both of you needed a little extra time to heal considering the extent of your injuries. He had even made a point of visiting you once he could get out of bed. It was nice having someone to talk to and pass the time with. Once again you were thankful for Kirishima.

It was past dinner time but there was still a group of your classmates awake discussing something over on the couches. You made a beeline to the elevator, hoping to slip by them unnoticed and Kirishima followed behind you.

When the doors shut you pushed the button to your floor.

‘Are you going to go see him?’ Kirishima asked.

You let out a soft gasp.

‘What do you mean?’ You asked, hand tightening on your bag strap.

‘I share a wall with Bakugou and he’s not exactly quiet when he talks.’ There was amusement behind his words. ‘I kind of put a couple things together and figured it out.’

‘It’s not like that.’ You sighed, trying to find the right words.

‘Yeah, I know.’ He gave you a wide smile. ‘You both are my friends after all, I know you two pretty well.’

You returned his smile, feeling a little more at ease.

‘Right.’ The doors dinged open and you both stepped out. ‘Did you tell him that you know?’

‘What are you crazy? Of course not. Besides it wouldn’t help whatever situation you two have gotten yourselves into.’

‘Thanks, Kirishima.’ You say turning toward your hall.

‘No problem.’ He moved to walk away before he stopped and turned. ‘I hope everything works out! Night.’ He gave you a quick wave.

‘Goodnight.’ You waved back.

With a smile, you returned to your room and pack away your belongings.

When you were done you set your bag down by your desk and took in the room.

Your bedroom was clean, aside from the stray water bottle on the floor beside your bed and the book you had been reading the day before you left turned upside down on the desk. It didn’t throw the room off balance but was a small wrinkle, a sign it had been lived in. In reality though you spent more time in the common area and Bakugou’s room than your own. This space was reserved for the few hours a day you needed to be alone.

Being at the hospital had created more than enough alone time. You almost drove yourself crazy with all the thoughts you had, all the little things you tried to decipher. In fact, you had felt rather lonely there, especially at night when you had to sleep.

You had missed sleeping with Bakugou. But after the last conversation the two of you had, you knew it was necessary to have some space. You realised then that you could probably sleep in your own room and he wouldn’t know you were back. A small part of you wanted to do that—to avoid Bakugou. But the part that wanted to see him was far bigger.

With a sigh you pushed yourself off the bed and stood in the centre of the room. In your head you counted backwards from 5, hoping you didn’t pop into his room at the wrong time.

After a deep breath you hit 1 and teleported into Bakugou’s dimly lit bedroom. Immediately your eyes went to the bed which was empty. Then you turned toward the source of light—the desk lamp—and saw Bakugou sitting there.

He had turned to face you, presumably having heard you teleport in. He looked at you expectantly but neither of you spoke.

The silence was heavy, filled with all the unsaid thoughts that you hid from each other. You contented yourself with sitting on the bed behind you, keeping your body facing him, your eyes not leaving his for a second. He met your stare head on, his brow creasing slightly. Both of you had fallen into the defensive stance, the walls around you up and your hearts hidden.

It took all your willpower not submit to that hold, the arguments and the projecting and instead try to pull those walls down.

‘What are you thinking about?’ You asked, softly, testing the waters.

Bakugou’s lip twitched and his fists balled against his pants.

‘Nothing.’ It was a defensive response, one he didn’t even think about but was automatic. ‘Just thinking about going to bed.’ Another excuse—it was always that excuse.

The circles you both went in were beginning to frustrate you. For once you wanted to simply say what was on the forefront of your mind and have him do the same.

Then you stood, eyes still holding his gaze and walked over to him.

‘You are avoiding it again, Bakugou.’ You said, firmly. ‘You weren’t really thinking about bed. You weren’t even looking at it. You were looking at me—still looking at me.’

He swallowed thickly, painfully audible in the silent room.

You leant down a little, feeling the weight of his gaze on you, watching your every move. You reached out to touch him, reached out to let him know it was okay but just before your hand reached him shoulder he flinched away.

‘Don’t.’ He croaked, standing upright in front of you.

‘Why not?’ You challenged, a stubbornness in your voice, impatience and irritation too. You’re both upright now daring each other to look away, to give in—you want to give in.

You can almost see the objections swimming in his eyes but he wasn’t vocalising them. His silence only prompted you to push further. You reached out again but Bakugou grabbed your wrist. You attempt to pull it forward. It was enough to trigger his reflexes and he yanked your arm away and in turn pushed you off balance.

You stumble forward but save yourself as your feet regained their footing. When you stare up at each other you there was something burning between you too. Something that was about to explode.

Bakugou lunged first–he always did, you go to pull your wrist back but you underestimated how firm the grip on your wrist was. Your eye contact doesn’t break but his eyes become hooded, half-lidded as he leant toward you. A kiss was pressed to your mouth, desperate and quick. The floodgates have opened. You followed his lips back as he retreated and then you kissed him.

He pulled back again and looked away, his cheeks blushing. You were too stunned to comment on it though because he had just kissed you. Your mind was still processing when he cleared his throat.

‘Let’s go to bed.’

You nodded accepting the retreat this one time and followed him under the covers. Your mind was far too alert to sleep. Too overcome with what had just happened.

That morning you awoke slowly, a few rays of sun peaking through the curtains into the room. With a yawn you shifted back a little and blinked your eyes open. When you immersed in world around you, you realised you were spooning Bakugou like you had several times before.

It was different this time, you had certainly never kissed before you went to bed.

As though hearing your thoughts Bakugou shifted and turned to face you his eyes seemingly wide awake as they met yours.

For a while the two of you simply stared at each other. You concentrated on how warm he was beneath your touch, your arm still wrapped around him. He seemed content lying there, waiting—for what you didn’t know.

‘Why did you kiss me?’ It was a kind question, with no hint of malice in your voice.

You felt him grow hotter.

‘Why did you kiss me back?’ He was deflecting again and you weren’t going to play that game.

‘Because I wanted to kiss you.’ Your voice was light but the weight behind those words weighed like a stone. ‘Why did you kiss me?’ You repeated the question, you needed to know.

‘Because.’ He stopped for a second, looking up at you. ‘Because every time we do this it feels like I’m on fire, even when you act like your slightest touch or comment would burn me, don’t think I’m stupid enough not to notice. What you don’t seem to get through your head is that I’m made to burn.’

For once there was such conviction behind his words. All this time you had thought you were the only one burning when he was practically up in flames beside you.

There was a pause as you glanced down from his lips back to his eyes.

‘Do you still want to burn?’ You whispered, as if a ‘no’ was still in sight, as if a ‘no’ would turn this entire situation upside down and you could abandon emotions and leave the room never to return.

Bakugou practically snorted. ‘Obviously.’

That temptation to caress his face was there again and this time you didn’t deny yourself the pleasure. You let fingers trace over over his forehead, down the bridge of his nose, over the apple of his cheek, the contour of his lips and down the column of his throat

It was enough for Bakugou to lunge forward again. His lips meeting yours with a firmness, a certainty that said he wanted this. And you indulged it, your hand still ghosting over his neck, reaching back up to his face.

Bakugou’s kisses turned softer, more lazy, more true to the earliness of the morning. And when he broke away he reached out to you for the first time and buried his face in your neck.

It was then you realised that your relationship with Bakugou had changed so rapidly over the course of a few months that it only felt natural to continue to move forward. You whatever this was, it would continue to change as the two of you grew together.

For now all you wanted to do was rest there with Bakugou a little while longer.

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