#if they smack the braincell around enough between the two of them they will get there eventually | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

breanime · 4 years ago

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Bre’s Boys Picture Preference: Boy Dads

Disclaimer: None of these babies belong to me, they are Instagram babies!

(With a surprise Bonus Boy!)

Billy Russo: Billy never, not in a million years, imagined himself with a family--let alone with a child. Especially after his...accident. Every glance in the mirror was a sharp reminder of Billy’s mistakes, of his failings, of the fact that he was a parentless monster that no one could ever love. And then you came. And he fell in love. He was terrified when he learned you were pregnant, terrified of the awesome responsibility that came with it, and the closer the due date got, the more specific his fears got. Namely, the fear that his child would look at his face and all of the scars that were on it...and be afraid. But he wasn’t. Your son adored his father; his sweet little face would light up in a toothless smile at the sight of Billy’s face. Billy loved having a son; he loved dressing him up in his comfortable little clothes, he loved his son’s high pitched giggle, he loved the way his son held onto his fingers, trying to wobble his way through his first steps, but most of all... He loved that your son wasn’t afraid of him. From day one, the scars on Billy’s face never bothered the baby. In fact, the day he was born, when Billy first held his son, the baby reached up, eyes still closed, and touched Billy’s face. Billy had flinched, sure that the jagged edges of his scars would hurt the freshly created tiny hand, but all his son did was whine and reach out again until Billy leaned forward and let him touch his face again. And then, in that moment...Billy witnessed his baby boy’s first ever smile, and from then on, he was greeted with that smile every time his son saw his face--his reddened, scarred up face--and every time... Billy smiled back, heart full.

Logan Delos: As far as Logan was concerned, he spawned the most gorgeous baby the world had ever seen. He could stare at your son all day long and never get tired of it. “Look at that face,” he’d gush as your son spit up on him, “That’s the face of an angel!” It got to the point that you wouldn’t even be surprised anymore when you came home to see Logan, dressed to the nines, with a camera in his hands and your son positioned in a basket, posing. Even as a baby, Logan’s son was always camera ready. “Okay,” you said, putting your purse down and coming to stand beside Logan, looking down at your perfect little bundle in his fleece-lined cashmere onesie, “I get that he’s all dressed up for his modeling gig, but why are you wearing a suit?” “He likes when we dress up together,” Logan answered, snapping a pic as he spoke, “We have a ritual, it’s a whole thing.” You laughed, leaning your head on Logan’s shoulder as you looked down at your baby boy. He had his father’s dark, enchanting eyes, and you couldn’t help but smile as he waved a tiny little fist at you. You noticed that he only waved when he knew Logan was in-between clicks. He was as much of a diva as his Dad. “Okay, okay, enough,” you reached into the basket and picked your son up, kissing his soft cheeks, “How is my baby boy? Huh? Did you have a fun day being an Instagram model with Daddy?” Your son answered you with a happy gurgle, reaching over to Logan--to the camera. You and Logan both laughed, and you rolled your eyes. “Seriously?” You asked, looking over at your son. “He wants to see the results,” Logan came over to you, showing you both the camera, “Here, son, I’ve already picked out my top ten favorites, but this one I think will look good with a nice, soft filter.” You watched, laughing, as your son eagerly stretched in your arms to see the pictures. He really was so much like his father.

Jax Teller: The Teller smirk had to be genetic. Because when you looked at your Old Man, that smirk on his face as he leaned against the doorway, and when you looked at your son--you saw that same smirk. He had Jax’s eyes too, shimmering, crystal eyes that could make anyone melt--even Grandma Gemma. “What?” You deadpanned, frowning at them both. Your son stood almost as tall as Jax’s knees now, and he crossed his arms just like his father did above him. “I know you two are up to something,” you went on, trying and failing to keep your growing smile at bay, “So what? What do you want?” Your son looked up at Jax, and you watched them have a silent conversation with their blue eyes--as they often did. Finally, they both looked back at you. “So, darlin’,” Jax began, “we were thinking...” “I doubt it,” you drawled with a smirk, “but go on.” “And well...” “Me and Dad think you should let us have breakfast for dinner.” You paused, confused. “Let you? Why would I stop you?” In an instant, a matching grin grew on both of your boys’ faces. “See?” Jax said, looking down at your son. “I told you she’d be down for it!” Your son pumped his fist eagerly. “Yes! Pancakes for dinner!” You laughed, getting up and following them into the kitchen. “You know I’m not cooking a whole breakfast by myself, right?” You asked. Jax laughed, coming up behind you to smack your ass just as your son reached out and kissed the back of your hand--charmers, both of them. “I got egg duty,” Jax announced, going to the fridge. “I can make orange juice! Grandma showed me how!” You watched them move around the kitchen, smiling proudly at your two boys. They were so much alike and brought so much joy to your heart. Truly, they were best friends as much as father and son, and you knew, as your baby boy continued to grow, you’d have another SAMCRO member on your hands. But you also knew, as dangerous as that life could be, that he would always be safe and taken care of, as long as you and Jax were alive. And even when you were both gone, you were confident that you were raising a smart, thoughtful young man, and you knew--while he would, of course, make mistakes--that he would always do his best to protect his family and friends. After all, it was in his genes.

Coco Cruz: You didn’t know how it happened (okay, you did know: sex), but suddenly, you and Letty were outnumbered. You and Coco had three sons, and just like Coco, they had big ass hair. “Who’s hair is this?!” Letty screamed, brushing hair off of the couch. Coco was on the floor with the boys, teaching them how to build a campfire with stuffed animals and pillows. Your youngest son, who was almost a year old, was more interested in throwing the toys around then the pretend campfire, but still. “It’s probably yours,” Coco answered, grabbing the stuffed lion your youngest son had just thrown and handing it back to him. “No, this is the hair of an inconsiderate MAN,” Letty grumped, hands on her hips. “It’s gotta be one of yours,” you added, “no one sits in that spot but you and the boys.” “I like that spot,” your second son said brightly, his perfect face framed by a huge, curly ponytail, “It’s the best vantage point in the whole living room.” “Yeah,” your oldest son replied, nodding, “You can see the whole room and the you can see the window.” “Remember,” Coco said, picking the baby up and bouncing him on his knee, “The best viewpoint is the one where you see everything, but no one sees you.” “Right,” your second oldest nodded, coping his big brother with the gesture, “You’re s’posed to be secreto, yeah?” Letty rolled her eyes at the antics of her brothers. “Yeah, okay--so what about the hair on the couch, huh? Which one of you snipers-in-training didn’t clean up after himself?” “Not me!” The boys and Coco all yelled at once. The baby also screeched out “baaaaaah”, which you took to be a denial of his guilt as well. “I swear,” you sighed, sitting on the loveseat, smiling at your boys, “I’m just gonna sneak into your beds at night and cut off all your hair.” “No!” The boys all cried out--even the baby (”no” was his new favorite word). Coco laughed, looking over at you, “Come on, baby, we’ll do better, won’t we, mijos?” He turned back to the boys, who all met him with wide, innocent eyes and eager nods, making you laugh. Letty laughed too, plopping down on the once-hair infested couch. “I swear, it’s like you four all share the same braincell,” she paused, looking around, “Huh... This actually is a good spot--” her words were interrupted by your second oldest boy chucking a stuffed duck at her. “You gotta be aware of all your surroundings!” “Dude--” she started. “You too, Mami!” Your oldest son added, throwing a pillow at you so hard, you almost fell off of the loveseat. The boys (and Letty) all erupted in laughter, and you fake glared at your boys. Their response was immediate and, of course, in stereo. “My bad!”

Angel Reyes: “This dude here,” Angel grinned, looking down at your son, “Like.. look at him! Why you got so much sauce, man?” He asked. Your son didn’t answer, he was too busy posing and looking cool. You were nearly in tears, you were laughing so hard. The three of you had decided to walk down to Felipe’s shop, and since it was a bit chilly out, you put a hat on your son and suddenly he was just too damn cool. Angel looked down at your baby boy, grinning wide as he watched your son lean against a building, hands in his pockets. “Papi, stop laughing,” your son said, his little voice making your heart melt, “Momma, take a picture of us!” You laughed, taking out your phone, “Okay, papi, stand right there next to Daddy,” you opened the camera app and felt your heart flip in your chest when you saw them through the lens. Your son was purposefully standing with his hands in his pockets, just like Angel was, and as eager as he was for this photo, he couldn’t hide the smile on his little face. You took a couple of pictures (at one point, they stood back to back with their arms crossed), and laughed as you did. Your boys were so full of life, the physical embodiment of joy. Everyday with your husband and your son was a blessing, so full of laughter and love. You knew what Angel’s childhood had been like, how he’d always thought of himself as the ill-favored son, and you knew he made sure his son never felt unwanted. Your baby boy was the prince of the Reyes family; beloved and cherished and treasured (and okay, maybe a wee bit spoiled), and he knew his Daddy loved him more than anything else in his life because Angel told him every single day. You pocketed your phone and watched as your son reached up for Angel’s hand, and the image of your husband’s big, strong hand carefully holding your baby boy’s had your heart clenching. There was nothing more beautiful than seeing the love between your two boys. Your son looked over at you, a smile--that Angel smile--on his round little face, and held out his other hand. “Come on, Momma, Abuelo is old, we can’t make him wait!” You laughed, taking his hand, and kept walking, you and Angel on either side of your son, your little prince. And you couldn’t be happier.

Miguel Galindo: Miguel had several body guards on hand, a security team, a nanny, and Nestor at his disposal at all times, and yet when it came to buckling your baby boy into the car, only Miguel could do it. “Okay, let’s make sure we’re safe,” Miguel said cheerfully as he strapped your son into his car-seat, pulling at the straps to make sure they were secure, “Daddy isn’t going anywhere until he knows you’re safe.” Your son smiled up at his father, babbling sweetly at him. You sat next to the car-seat, watching Miguel interact with your son. You loved how protective he was of him; Miguel was a man of wealth, and as such, he had his share of enemies, but as time had gone on, and the Galindo businesses stared going legit, the list of enemies got smaller and smaller. Still, you preferred the cautiousness over recklessness, especially when it came to the safety of your family. “What do you think, mijo?” Miguel asked as he got into the car, nodding at the security guard who closed the door behind him. “Should we stop by the ice cream shop on the way home from picking up your brother from school?” Your baby giggled, clapping his hands excitedly at the mention of ice cream, and you and Miguel laughed. “Sounds like a yes,” you said, reaching over to run a finger against your son’s smooth, chubby cheek. Miguel leaned forward for a moment, directing the driver to start moving, before sitting back and smiling over at you and your son. He reached out and smoothed down your son’s hair; it had the same natural curly swoop Miguel’s hair did. “He’s getting big,” he said, “You think it’s time to get a new car-seat?” You smiled, watching as your son reached up and took hold of Miguel’s finger, always happy to be close to his dad. “He’s got another few months in this one,” you answered, “Although it might be time to get a new baby wrap-around. The one you have is starting to get worn out.” “Yeah, that’s cause this one likes to hang off my chest while I work. I’m telling you, he’s gonna be a shrewd businessman, this one!” You both laughed. Miguel adored being close to your son and did everything he could to avoid putting him down. So the head of the Galindo cartel would strap his youngest son to his chest as he handled business and called the shots, because as much of a boss as your husband was, he was powerless when it came to his kids--and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Nick Amaro: It had been a long day for Nick. As much as he loved his job, as much as he loved helping and protecting others, it could be incredibly draining. He’d just closed a case he and the squad had been working for a month, and while justice had been served, and Nick was happy with the results, it had taken a lot out of him. The things he saw, the horrific stories, the disgusting perps--it was a lot. Plus he’d been forced to work long days and long nights, and Nick hated being away from you and the kids. So when he came home early in the morning, fresh off of a 12 hour shift, he was ready to give you and the kids a quick kiss in your beds before going to sleep himself. But when he opened the door to your house, he was greeted with soft Cubano music and the best sound of all--his baby boy’s precious laugh. Immediately, before Nick had even stepped fully through the door, a smile grew on his face. It was early, but apparently the baby was wide awake, which of course meant you were wide awake. Nick walked over to the corner of the couch, where your son was sitting up, wearing his favorite bear bib, and laughing at the sight of his little black shoes. “Don’t tell me you pulled another all-nighter?” Nick asked him as he bent over and picked him up. He was immediately greeted with slobbery kisses and sticky fingers pulling at his ears, but Nick didn’t mind. In fact, he loved it. Just by hearing his son’s laugh and holding him in his arms, Nick’s mood had already improved. “He slept through the night, actually,” you answered from your spot in the kitchen, “Which is why he’s the first one up. Zara had a nightmare, so she’s sleeping in our bed, and I let Gil have a few extra hours on the tablet last night, so he’s knocked out.” Nick nodded, kissing your son right on his adorable little dimple. “And so you woke up to help Mama with breakfast, huh? What a gentleman,” he teased. Your baby boy laughed, and Nick laughed back. His son was always happy, always eager for a cuddle and happy to be held, and he just brought so much joy to Nick’s life. You and the kids were everything to Nick; you were why he did what he did. He wanted to make sure the world was as safe as he could make it for his family, and as he looked down at his grinning baby boy and listened to his sweet laugh, he knew his son would grow up to be good. And that was all Nick could ever hope for.

Johnny Tuturro: “Me ready!” Your son announced, coming into the living room with his overalls on, toddling towards you and Johnny. You laughed, and Johnny crouched down to be at eye level with his son. “I think you forgot something, man,” he said, affectionately poking him in his cheek. “No I not! Me ready! Me ready for beach!” Your son argued, his dark brown eyes shining with mischief just like your husband’s. “You did a good job with your hair,” you said, ignoring the trail of moisturizing oil, combs, and brushes your baby had left in the hallway when he did his hair, “and you look so cute in your overalls.” “Tank you for helping with the buttons,” he said, giving you that Tuturro smile that had you ready to give him everything he ever wanted. “You’re welcome, baby,” you cooed back. “But we can’t go to the beach till you’re all ready, big man,” Johnny added, he pointed to his son’s teeny tiny little feet, “Shoes.” Your son gasped, slapping his little hands on either side of his face in total shock. He screeched, waddling off to grab a pair of shoes from the rack, and you and Johnny laughed. An expert father, Johnny sat on the floor and let your son plop down into his lap, holding his shoes and socks in his fat little hands. “Help me peas,” he said, looking up at his dad. Johnny bent down and kissed the top of his head, taking the socks and putting them on your son’s feet--a pretty impressive feat seeing as how your son was incapable of not swinging his feet. You leaned against the wall, a smile on your face, as you watched them together. Johnny was telling your son that they’d play in the water until the sun went down, and your son clapped his hands excitedly. They were both beach bums, your son having inherited his love of the water from Johnny. “Okay,” Johnny slipped the first tiny shoe on, “let’s practice our colors. What color is this?” He pointed to the shoes. “Black!” “Good job! How about Mommy’s shoes. What color are those?” “Mommy’s shoes white!” “Yeah, white! What color is the ocean?” “The ocean blue!” He answered, and Johnny rewarded him by picking him up and spinning him around, “That’s right, big man! You’re so smart! Just like your Mommy!” Holding your baby boy with one hand and taking your hand in the other, Johnny grinned, “Okay, let’s go!” You walked into the sunshine with your own two lovable sources of sunshine, all three of you smiling and excited for another perfect day.

Rio: For you, bathtime was war. Your son was a tiny tyrant, displeased with every part of the procedure. He screamed because the water was too cold, and then when you added hot water to it, he whined at the added heat. He tossed the bath toys you provided him, crying because they weren’t the ones he wanted that night. He splashed at the water angrily, tried of being in the tub, and then when you took him out, he kicked his fat little feet and yelled cause he wanted to play in the water. To be clear, he was a sweet baby most of the time, but bathtime turned him into a little monster. Unless Daddy was bathing him. You stood by the sink, arms crossed, pretending to be offended as you watched Rio bathe your son. Rio was on his knees next to the tub, one hand on your son’s back, steadying him in his little baby tub, the other pushing along a toy boat--that your son had chucked at you in annoyance not five minutes before--and making your son laugh. “Okay, time to rinse off,” Rio said, taking a cup and pouring it over your son, who just giggled at the action, “Yeah, now we’re alllll clean,” Rio sang. You bit back a smile as you watched your husband pick your son up. Your son reached for the tattoo on Rio’s neck and tickled it, making all three of you laugh. Rio sat him down on a towel on the sink, and you leaned in, pressing your nose into the fatness of his neck, sniffing that sweet, clean baby smell on his soft, smooth skin. “God, this is like crack,” you sighed. Rio chuckled as you stepped back, and he covered your son’s head with a fluffy brown towel. “I don’t know why you be telling lies on my son,” he joked, “he was an angel this whole time.” “You’ve seen how he gets when I bathe him! He only likes when you do it, it’s crazy!” You huffed. Rio leaned over and kissed your son’s chubby cheeks a good hundred times, coaxing another round of laughs out of the baby. “That’s cause bathtime is boy’s time,” he said, his voice muffled by your son’s cheeks, “Ain’t that right, son?” Rio stood up and turned to you, kissing your cheek as well. “And bedtime is Mommy time,” he whispered, his voice low, “matter of fact... let’s get this boy in his crib so I can wipe Mommy down and rinse her off...” You laughed at the innuendo...and then hurried to grab your son’s pajamas--bedtime couldn’t come quick enough.

Bonus Boy

EZ Reyes: Felipe and Angel both agreed that your son was exactly like EZ was when he was a kid: friendly, inquisitive, adventurous. EZ joked that he was always just a little nerd, but when you watched him with your son, you could see that inquisitive spirit in EZ bursting through. “What do you think,” EZ asked, crouching down next to your son as he patted the bark on a tree at the park, “is this a good tree?” “Good tree!” Your son repeated, looking over at his Dad. EZ smiled, and you could see every woman within a 10 mile radius collectively swoon at the sight of him (the smile, the arms, the EVERYTHING) next to your incredibly adorable baby boy. Hell, even you weren’t immune; you indulged in a quick little swoon yourself. “Papi, tree big!” Your son reported, stepping back and looking up at the tree, his little head reared back. EZ held your son steady with a hand on his little back; EZ’s hand was just about the width of your son’s back. “Yeah, it is,” EZ agreed, nodding, “You know, the older a tree is, the bigger is is. So this is probably a very old tree.” Your son’s jaw dropped, nodding in awe, “Wowwwwwww.” You sat on the bench and watched as your boys walked around the park, examining the various trees and plants. Your son would point to something and look up at EZ, who would start spewing off any and every fact he knew about the object, impressing the hell out of your baby boy. You loved watching them like this; you loved your son’s curious nature, and you were so happy and proud that EZ not only supported it, but helped nurture it as well. As you watched them walk around the park in their own little world, hand in hand, you felt a strong sense of love come over you. This was your family. They were yours, and you were theirs, and you loved them both so much, and they loved you. You put your hand over your stomach, a small smile pulling at your lips as you thought of your little secret. They loved you...and they would love this next little one just as much.

*******************************************************************************************Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think! And if you really enjoyed it and you can send in a tip here, I would greatly appreciate it!

Which one was your favorite? Did you think the kids looked enough like their Daddies? Did you have a favorite part? I wanna knooooow!

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#bre's boys preference #bre's boys #billy russo x reader #logan delos x reader #jax teller x reader #coco cruz x reader #angel reyes x reader #miguel galindo x reader #nick amaro x reader #johnny tuturro x reader #rio x reader #ez reyes x reader

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

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Go the Distance

Prompt: Hello, I absolutely adore your work 🥺😍🥺 your Sanders Sides angst is just so goooood!!! If you're up to it, I'd love to request a fic <3 Virgil has noticed [side(s?) of your choice; they're all good choices, I can't decide ;-;] has been distant and avoiding him and he just can't figure out what he did wrong but it's actually because [side] loves him and are trying to take some time to 'get rid of/push down their feelings' The angster the better but don't push yourself ^ Feel free to add or change whatever Have a great day and no worries if you don't do this 💜💜💜~@im-an-anxious-wreck 💜🖤

Thanks for the prompt babe you’re the best

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-doubt, some lite™ angst

Pairings: prinxiety, background platonic dlampr because found family dynamics motherfuckers

Word Count: 4191

Virgil and Roman's relationship hasn't always been, well, great. But it's been getting better!

Or, at least, it was.

Listen, Virgil knows he and Roman haven’t exactly had the most…painless history. Virgil’s introduction to the series was Thomas telling Roman his dream was to get rid of him and, well, Roman was first and foremost loyal to Thomas. Then the whole…insult thing, ducking out, and the absolute mess of the callback wedding debacle, it’s not exactly been smooth sailing.

But—okay, and maybe they’d been a little harsher about things than absolutely necessary, and maybe Roman got hit with the consequences of their fights more than Virgil, and maybe Virgil hadn’t exactly been…overwhelmingly accepting of all of Princey’s little ticks.

But they’d still been talking!

After the wedding, no one was on good terms with anyone save Patton and Janus—and wasn’t that the shock of a lifetime—and Remus and Virgil. Because they made the smart choice and decided ‘nope, fuck that, I’m out.’

It was a good choice. You have any idea how high their scores are in GTFO now? The first rundown’s a fucking cakewalk.

Anyway.

They’d been talking! Virgil still doesn’t know exactly what happened right after—he saw the video, of course he saw the video, but Roman sunk right to his room and there’s a good twelve hours between that and the next time Virgil saw him—but Roman had come out and approached him!

Probably because he was still hurt by the end of the video—which oof, Virgil does not blame him for, that was harsh—and his only options were Logan, Virgil, and Remus and Logan, um, didn’t want to see anyone for a while and Remus is Remus.

Side note: those two have been getting on better. Something about their twin Creativity thing meant Remus knew that Roman was hurting bad before even Thomas did.

But Roman did seek him out, asking him quietly if he had a moment, just a moment, to sit together. Virgil had shrugged and passed it off as nothing only for Princey to literally sit on the floor and not make a fucking noise. He’d frowned and poked his shoulder, asking if he was alright.

“Perfectly fine, Dark and Stormy,” Roman had said lightly, “and I’ll leave you in a moment.”

“But you’re…” Virgil had waved to his silent form. “…not acting like you normally do.”

Roman had laughed. “And here I thought I’d never hear you say you missed me being loud.”

“Now let’s not jump to conclusions.”

Sure enough, a few more seconds had passed and Roman had gotten up, quietly bid Virgil good day, thanked him, and left.

You bet your ass Virgil sunk straight into Patton’s room to ask hey what the fuck did you do to Roman.

Patton had sighed and said that they’re not sure what to do now—‘they’ being Janus and Patton. Virgil, still recovering from the whiplash of those two being close had shaken his head and told them to get it the fuck together.

If he sunk into Remus’s room to ask how to take care of Roman, that’s his business. It’s also his business if he tackled Princey in a hug two minutes later.

So. Talking.

Roman, for all he talks, doesn’t really say much. The few things he does say are easily passed off as jokes, off-handed comments that no one really pays much attention to.

Not that anyone pays nearly enough attention to Roman, come on, guys, he makes it easy.

But Roman talked to Virgil. He’d come in and sit and Virgil would sit next to him, trying to make sure his arm didn’t burst into flames from where it was pressed against Princey—the dude’s a fucking space heater, okay?—just to listen. Some of the time it was Disney rants—okay, most of the time it was Disney rants—but some of the time…

“Virgil?”

“Yeah?”

Roman looked down at his costume. Today was repair day, unofficially called when Virgil’s hoodie ripped during the night and Roman’s sword cut through his sleeve. Virgil looked up from his own mass of fabric, needle stuck in carefully so he wouldn’t prick himself. He frowned at the look on Roman’s face.

“What’s up, Princey?”

“Do you think my logo looks bad?”

Virgil blinked in shock. Roman didn’t look up and see the surprise on his face, instead running his thumb slowly over the patch on the costume.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Princey?”

“It’s so complicated,” Roman said, still looking down, “Logan and Patton have really simple ones. You have a pretty simple one.”

“Janus doesn’t. Remus doesn’t.”

“Yeah, but they’re…”

Virgil frowned deeper, putting his hoodie on the ground and shifting closer to Roman. The prince didn’t even look up, still clutching his logo in his hands.

“They’re what, Roman?”

Roman swallowed. “…allowed.”

A growl sounded from Virgil’s throat before he knew what was happening.

“And you’re not?”

“Hmm?”

“And you’re not allowed, Roman?” Virgil gripped his shoulder. “Look at me, Princey.”

Roman looked up. Virgil swallowed another growl at the despondent look on the prince’s face. Instead, he gripped Roman’s shoulder tighter.

“No one,” he said firmly, “is allowed to tell you your logo is bad. You hear me?”

Roman blinked.

“I mean it, Roman,” he said, softening his voice a little, “it’s you. It’s yours, no one’s allowed to tell you it’s wrong.”

“So that’s…okay?”

“Yeah, Princey, it’s okay.”

“Oh.” Roman looked back down at his costume. “Okay. Thank you, Virgil.”

“Anytime.”

Virgil would come to be astounded at how much he means that.

Because, really, now that Roman’s talking? Virgil’s fucking shocked that they didn’t realize how much Roman actually has to offer.

First off, Princey’s smart as hell. Sure, L’s the resident braincell but you can be big of brain and dumb of ass at the same time.

If Logan tries to tell you he’s not a dumbass sometimes he is wrong.

Roman can puzzle solve with the best of them. Do you have any idea how much brainpower it takes to write a story? A script? Understand how all those moving parts fit together and make sense as a whole? Virgil sure as hell didn’t. He spent one afternoon trying to help Roman only for it to end up as Roman explaining what he was doing and Virgil frantically trying to keep up. Don’t even get him started on how impressive the Imagination stuff is.

“It’s my job, Fall Out Brood,” Roman laughs every single time Virgil expresses how fucking cool this is, “have to be good at something.”

And Roman is. He’s good.

Second: Patton may be the heart, Logan may be the brains, but no one is as good at reassuring him as Roman. Probably has something to do with the Creativity gig. Roman had asked, politely, if Virgil would be comfortable telling him what to do when he gets really anxious, whether to leave him alone, get him somewhere safe, get him things, what have you. Virgil had told him, bemused, only to be shuttled into somewhere that screamed safewarmcomfortableeverythingisokay the next time he had a panic attack. Roman, with the lack of shame truly becoming of a theatre kid, had no problems cheering him up by loudly declaring he would fight whatever shadowy figures plagued his little nightmare, swatting at the air with his sword until Virgil’s sobs had turned into giggles. He never made Virgil talk about anything if he didn’t want to, didn’t try to sit and work through things if they weren’t ready, and never touched him unless he’d gotten the okay. The first time Virgil told him he’d be fine with receiving hugs in the aftermath was the warmest he’d felt in years.

Princey gives really good hugs.

Third: Roman’s fucking funny.

Remember the whole ‘smart as hell’ thing? Know how Logan’s funny as fuck too when he lets himself be?

Virgil’s lost count of how many times he’s had to gasp out for Roman to shut the fuck up because his sides hurt too much from laughing. He ends up sprawled across the fucking floor or the couch or Princey’s bed, dying very happily but painfully because Roman won’t stop making him laugh.

Most of the time it’s due to something they’re watching and Roman’ll notice some detail that he picks apart until they’re both howling or Virgil will make one sarcastic comment that turns into a full fucking bit for like…ten minutes. Roman will just keep riffing off of the smallest thing until he’s laughing too hard to keep going—not very likely—or Virgil will flail out desperately and smack him—much more likely.

Princey said he makes fun of the things he loves.

…maybe that’s why he doesn’t make fun of Virgil anymore.

Virgil curls tighter around the pillow, clutching it to his chest. As he rubs his cheek against it, he grimaces. It’s too rough. It’s not warm enough. It doesn’t smell right.

They’d been talking. It had been good.

But that was before.

Before Roman had cautiously approached Logan with an apology, the offering of a new planner for him, the promise to listen to him, hear him out, give him space to speak. Logan had accepted.

Before Roman had opened the border between his and Remus’s side of the Imagination, sending a little puppy scuttling over to his brother’s castle with a note, a dagger, and a vial of acid. It returned as a kitten with a beautifully poisonous rose.

Before Roman had finally, finally, after days of trying, opened the door when Patton knocked, letting him come inside so they could talk, about everything that happened since…well, ever. They hadn’t stopped hugging long enough to walk down the stairs.

Before Roman had let Janus, Janus, take care of him.

And now…

Now Roman didn’t want to be in the same room as him.

It feels as if they’re walking on eggshells around each other again, Virgil appearing in a room only for Roman to completely disappear, getting up and leaving a conversation entirely just to avoid him, Virgil knocking on Roman’s door only for Roman to shout that he’s busy, not to come inside, Virgil, trying, trying to figure out where Roman’s gone, what’s happened, only to receive the cold shoulder.

A problem none of the other Sides seemed to be having.

He clutches the pillow to his chest.

Did he—did he do something wrong?

Does Roman—does Roman not like him anymore?

Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed so hard about talking to the others. Roman needed space, needed time, he didn’t need someone else breathing down his neck. He should’ve let Roman set the pace, listened more, been kinder to him when he needed reassurance.

Maybe he shouldn’t have made Roman think it was his fault that the others were taking so long, or suggested that if he wanted things to get better he should try talking first. Roman had been taught by everyone else that things were his fault already, Virgil didn’t need to jump on that train too.

Maybe he should’ve been kinder to Roman, less focused on making the others understand that they hurt Roman. Everyone in the Mindscape knew that Roman was hurt, Virgil should’ve helped fix that, taken care of Roman, not pushed the blame onto everyone else.

Maybe Roman didn’t like what he had to say about Disney films. They were Roman’s comfort watches, the last thing he needed was for someone to cruelly rip away his enjoyment of one of the few things he could enjoy.

Maybe Roman didn’t like Virgil’s way of taking care of him. Virgil never pushed, never did Roman the courtesy of asking, like Roman did with him, just assumed he knew best how to comfort someone and left it there. Roman might’ve needed more hugs, more time, less distraction, just something other than what Virgil gave him.

Maybe Roman didn’t like how much Virgil ended up hoarding him to himself. Not letting him go to the others for comfort, just to work things out. Maybe he thought Virgil was just keeping him upset so he could hang out with him more.

Or maybe…

Virgil muffles his sob in the pillow.

Maybe Roman needed or wanted him anyway.

Maybe Roman was just waiting until he could get the comfort he actually wanted. Maybe he waited until the others were easier to talk to so he could go back to what he really needed. Maybe Virgil was just a placeholder until Roman could get hugs from Patton and Remus, talk with Logan and Janus, not him. Never him.

Maybe that’s…okay.

It’s not, it won’t be fucking okay for a long time, but one day, it will be okay.

Virgil curses and throttles the pillow in his arms, wishing for it to be real, to be warm, to be a chest of white and gold and a splash of red, for it to wraps its arms around him and say it’s okay, shadow-ling, I’m here, I won’t leave you, shh.

But it’s just a pillow.

Has his room always been this cold?

Have Disney movies always looked this flat?

Has music always sounded this gray?

Has Virgil always been this alone?

He can hear them in the living room below him. He can hear Roman and Logan throwing quips back and forth, can hear Remus tackling his brother into the wall, and Roman protesting. He can hear Janus scolding Remus and checking to make sure Roman’s not injured, can hear Roman wave him off gently and go right back to verbally sparring with Logan. He can hear Patton laughing too hard, falling off the couch and begging the two of them to let up, let him breathe, can hear Roman coo and call him sweet, adorable, in that soft voice he only uses when he’s talking to someone he cares about.

Can’t hear any of them worrying about where he is.

Maybe it’s better this way.

He got greedy, took too much of what was never his to take, what wasn’t given to him freely. He latched onto the first thing he thought was for him and didn’t stop to think that it wasn’t. He may think he’s been included in the famILY but he knows he’s still an outsider.

He may be Virgil now but deep down he’ll always be Anxiety.

So here he will stay, in the cold of his room, in the dark of his face smushed into a pillow that will never be real. He will stay and he will be happy.

But not today.

He sniffles and smears his nose on the sleeve of his hoodie, not bothering to pull away from the pillow long enough to wipe tears properly. His limbs start to protest as he hugs it tighter, tighter, tighter, but it’s no use. He can feel his own arms through the pillow. There isn’t enough—there’s too much give in the pillow. It’s just a fucking pillow but it’s not enough.

Another laugh from downstairs and Virgil growls, burying his head in the pillow until he can’t hear himself think.

Can’t hear anything but his own muffled sobs ringing in his ears.

Can’t hear anything other than the thought swirling around and around his head that he’ll never be enough, that he’ll never be wanted, that he’ll never be anything other than Anxiety.

Can’t hear the soft knock at the door.

“Virgil?”

The voices in his head must be getting pretty powerful because he’s certain he can hear Roman calling for him. He buries deeper in the pillow.

“Virgil? Virgil, can you hear me?”

Yes, he thinks, yes, I can hear you, which means I’m not crying hard enough.

“Can I come in, shadow-ling?”

Yes, he thinks, come in and make me forget that you don’t need me anymore.

He must really be losing it because he thinks he can hear the door open and close again with a soft click, followed by a sharp intake of breath and a soft coo.

“Oh, shadow-ling,” the imaginary Roman murmurs, “come here, little Stormcloud.”

Oh, his imagination is being cruel to him right now because the sensation of warm arms around his waist and shoulders fucking burns. He buries his face in the pillow until he can’t tell which way is up anymore, not sure how he’s tricked himself into imagining Roman’s cradling him but too unwilling to let the illusion go.

“That’s right, Stormcloud, relax for me, I’ve got you, I’m right here, shh, shh, you’re alright,” the imaginary Roman keeps whispering in that cruelly soft voice, “you’re doing great, shadow-ling.”

Virgil wants him to be real. So bad he aches from it. But he knows he’s not.

What happens next breaks his fucking heart.

The imaginary Roman kisses him.

It’s chaste, a barely-there brush of his lips against his forehead but it tears a whine out of Virgil’s throat before he can stop it. The imaginary Roman hushes him gently, pressing another kiss to the part of his cheek not buried in the pillow and it taunts him with how real it feels. The slightly chapped lips, the warm rush of air as Roman breathes, the light brush of his nose as he pulls away.

It’s too much.

It’s too much and he wants it to be real so badly but he knows the instant he pulls away it will vanish and that might just break him.

Then he realizes the imaginary Roman is talking to him.

“Breathe, Stormcloud, you’ve got to breathe,” he coaxes, “I know it’s tempting to stay buried in a pillow all day, but you can’t breathe properly like that, sweetheart.”

No, no, don’t call me sweetheart, I’ll break.

“Shadow-ling, Stormcloud, my darling,” the imaginary Roman says instead, “come on…”

Well, now he’s disappointing imaginary Roman too. Figures. He can’t do anything right.

“Of course you can,” the imaginary Roman pleads, “just breathe for me, shadow-ling, I’m right here, I’ve got you, you can keep your eyes closed if you need to, just breathe.”

Another whine. Another kiss pressed against his head. The whine grows louder.

“Shh, shh, my darling,” imaginary Roman murmurs, “breathe, come on, just—trust me, okay? Can I ask that of you, Stormcloud?”

And goddamnit, this is why Virgil can’t do anything.

Virgil trusts him.

So he prepares himself for heartbreak and lifts his head.

“Thank you, shadow-ling,” imaginary Roman—wait, he’s still here?—murmurs, rubbing his back, “there you go, now just breathe—oh! Oh, come here, lean on me, I’ve got you.”

Having listed to the side horribly, Virgil lands against a solidwarmsafereal chest and—and—

“R-Roman?”

“Yes, my darling,” not imaginary Roman says, still kissing Virgil’s forehead, “I’m here, I’m here.”

White-hot rage burns Virgil’s tears.

He lets out a yell and shoves, not caring that it throws them both horribly off-balance, threatening to send him tumbling to the floor. He hears Roman cry out, trying to keep ahold of him, but he scrabbles and gets his hands around the bedpost and pulls.

“Virgil—Virgil stop, you’re going to hurt yourself—“

“Why do you care?” The rage coats his tongue. “You fucking left, you—you—you fucking didn’t care about me anymore, you decided you didn’t want me anymore and you fucking left so don’t try and care now!”

“Virgil—sweetheart, I—“

“Don’t fucking call me that!” He keeps his eyes squeezed tight. “You didn’t give a fuck about me when you left, when you got your fucking family back, you think—you think you can just waltz back in like you didn’t abandon me?”

“Virgil—“

“Because you did, Roman!” Virgil blindly shoves at where the prince was before, knocking him into the wall. “You fucking left me as soon as you got the others back like I—like I never did anything for you and now you—now you can’t even look at me.”

“I’m looking at you now.”

Virgil laughs.

He throws his head back and howls until his chest and throat ache.

“You didn’t give a shit when the others started talking to you. You just fucking up and abandoned me like you never cared about me in the first place. You replaced me with them or—or abandoned me as your placeholder and I’m fucking hurt, Roman.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you do it?”

Silence.

Virgil’s heart stops.

No.

No, no, no, no—

He fucked up.

He fucked up so bad.

Roman left.

Roman’s not here anymore.

Roman left again, he made Roman leave, he—he fucked up so bad, he shouldn’t have yelled, he’s fucked up, he hurt Roman, no, no, no, no—

On instinct, his hands hook into claws.

Only to be caught by warmsolidreal hands and brought to something soft.

“Don’t,” comes Roman’s softsaferealhurt voice, murmuring in his ear as he holds him still, “don’t scratch, sweetheart.”

“Don’t—“

“I know, I know,” Roman says immediately, “you said not to call you that. I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry.”

…what?

“I didn’t realize I was hurting you,” comes the voice again, “that’s no excuse, I know, but please, Virgil, I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to abandon you.”

Virgil swallows. “What the fuck do you call it then?”

“I didn’t want to push my luck.”

What?

“You were being so good to me, Virgil,” Roman murmurs, oblivious to the internal struggle Virgil’s currently facing, “so kind, so supportive, that I…I realized I wanted to ask more from you. Things I had no business asking. And the longer you kept on being you, the harder it was to resist the urge to push and risk shattering everything you’d let me build with you.”

“What—“ Virgil swallows— “what the fuck did you want?”

Roman stills in front of him. With his eyes still shut, he can’t tell what’s going on, but when Roman speaks next his voice is hoarse.

“Before I ask,” comes the whisper, “I want you to know that you have every right to say no. You can push me away, shove me out of your room, stay angry at me for as long as you want. I’ve hurt you, badly, and I have no right to ask this of you. I want you to know that. That I’m okay with you asserting that right.”

Fuck, Princey.

“…what do you want?”

A pause. Then a soft rush of air, right on his face.

“May I kiss you, Stormcloud?”

Oh.

Oh, no.

“R-Roman?”

“That’s it,” Roman murmurs and oh, his mouth is right next to Virgil’s, “that’s what I want, shadow-ling.”

He shifts a little until Virgil can feel Roman’s warmth.

“That and everything that goes with it.”

“Why—why did you leave? I-if that’s what you wanted?”

“Because that would mean to push,” Roman says immediately, “and the last thing I wanted was to push you away. I thought if I could…rein it in, control it, I could…I wouldn’t hurt you.”

A soft chuckle.

“Look how well that turned out.”

“But the others—“

“I needed Remus to tell me what was going on,” Roman says wryly, “Janus to point out that I was okay in wanting something, Patton to help me figure it out, and Logan to kick my ass into doing it.”

“To…to ask me?”

“Yes, Stormcloud,” comes the whisper, “to ask you.”

“And if I say yes?”

He can feel Roman’s lips turn up.

“…then I’ll kiss you, Stormcloud.”

“Are you really here?”

The question bursts out of him before he can stop it, immediately biting his lip in reprimand for letting it.

“Open your eyes, Virgil,” Roman says softly, “look at me.”

He shakes his head, not wanting it to be imaginary. Not now, not after this. Roman squeezes his hands.

“Look at me, Stormcloud,” he whispers, “look at me.”

Fuck it.

Roman smiles at him, real and warm and soft and here. He squeezes Virgil’s hands again and takes the smallest step closer.

“I’m here,” he says, wrapping Virgil’s arms around his neck, “I’m right here, shadow-ling.”

He’s here.

This won’t fix everything. But it’s one hell of a start.

“Ask me again.”

“May I kiss you, Stormcloud?”

Virgil shakes his head. “Not like that. Ask me properly.”

Confusion dances on Roman’s face before realization hits. His smile widens and he brings a hand to Virgil’s head. Virgil clutches Roman tight as he gets dipped into the prince’s arms. Roman leans forward until his mouth almost catches Virgil’s.

“May I kiss you, sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years ago

Note

My dearest bouncey! I have a prompt for you if you like: Witchers as a 90s/2000s boyband 😂🤷‍♀️💖💖💖

Ellie, darling, this started as 500 words and turned into like 3.2k words and also a piece of art so... thank you so much. also shout out to my amazing art pal @mawbwehownets for the little comic!!

this contains lots of 90′s/early 2000′s nostalgia so there is also that

tw: hornyish, smooching, perilous music video situations (corny)

---

“Do I have to?” Geralt groans, letting his forehead thud down against the linoleum surface of their tour bus’s shitty dining table.

“Yes,” Vesemir says. His tone leaves no room for argument or whining. “But what if I let you pick the winner personally?”

“There have to be like fifteen thousand letters to go through! How will I manage that in less than two days?”

“There were a few more than fifteen thousand applications, Geralt. There were probably closer to five hundred thousand.”

Lambert wolf whistles and Aiden claps.

Geralt grimaces and keeps his face hidden against the table, releasing a slightly muffled: “Fuck.”

“Language,” Vesemir frowns. He tugs gently at Geralt’s loose ponytail and the singer lifts his head up from the table again, looking at his manager with beseeching eyes. “Anyway, we’ve narrowed it down to about fifty. You can go through those and choose whichever person you’d like to play your love interest. But you have to give me an answer by Friday. The shoot is in three weeks and whoever wins this stupid competition will need time to make arrangements.”

“I thought we were footing the bill for their food and their hotel room,” Geralt raised an eyebrow. “What would they need to arrange?”

“Not everyone can board their pets at the flick of a wrist, dude,” Lambert scoffs from his seat on the couch. Aiden lies draped across his lap, as usual, and the two of them are halfheartedly watching The Lion King. They can only watch movies when the bus is stationary, otherwise the VHS player might move too much while running and damage the film inside the cassette. Even taking advantage of such a rare opportunity, Lambert and Aiden still seem more interested in each other than Jonathan Taylor Thomas’s voice acting.

“Lambert has a point,” Vesemir sighs. He scrubs his hand over his lightly whiskered face like a tired grandparent and sighs again, more heavily. “It’ll be good for you boys to have a normal person around for a few days. Maybe they’ll be able to put some things into perspective.”

Geralt can only roll his eyes a little bit and thank his manager regardless of his own feelings; he and the rest of TW5 owe the seasoned musical expert their entire careers. Without Vesemir’s help and mentorship they would never have made it past their first disastrous record deal. They certainly wouldn’t have reached the heights they’re at now, enjoying international fame and recognition.

The begrudging frontman accepts a heavy plastic bin of file folders from Vesemir and sets them down next to his bunk. “Are these organized in any particular way?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.”

Geralt digs his hand into the pile and pulls out a piece of pale-pink stationary, eager to get started and, by extension, get finished. He can already tell that it’s going to be a long couple of days.

---

“I want this one, please, Ves.”

“Huh?” Vesemir looks up from his palm-pilot. Geralt is standing in front of him and trying to hand him something.

“I want this guy to be in the music video with me.” Geralt holds out the letter again, fingers trapping the accompanying polaroid headshot with great care. A pair of bright blue eyes stares up from the photo, highlighting the subject’s bright smile and unruly mop of messy brown hair. Vesemir tries to hide his amusement; totally Geralt’s type, if the big oaf could admit to having one.

“Alright. I’ll get everything in order. We start shooting in two and a half weeks so get your asses to the gym, please.”

“Yes, Ves,” all five young men chorus.

“Tomorrow,” Coen mutters a moment later than everyone else, not glancing up from his composition notebook. Vesemir nods in understanding. Coen is the best lyricist of the lot and it’s easier to let him work when inspiration strikes than beg him to focus when he can’t get a solitary idea to stick.

“So why’d you pick that one, Ger-bear?” Lambert drawls. Aiden nods and leans against Lambert’s side. Geralt can’t help the mild jealousy that overtakes him every time he sees his bandmates touch each other with such casual affection. He wants that intimacy, that softness behind the veneer of famous indifference. He wants someone to hold.

“Yeah. What drew your attention to that poor unfortunate soul. Was it the floppy hair, the big blue eyes, or the dopey grin?” Aiden smirks.

“Hmm.”

“Fuck you,” Eskel sighs, looking between the two troublemakers with the tired gaze of an eldest sibling, “Fuck you for even asking in the first place and expecting a straight answer.”

“Straight is the furthest thing from his answer,” Lambert chuckles. He is promptly smacked in the head with one of the couch’s hideous throw pillows. The youngest member of the band rubs the side of his face and chuckles, “Alright, I deserved that one.”

---

“Holy shit!” Jaskier practically screams. “Holy motherfucking shit!”

“What!?” Yennefer comes flying around the corner. “What’s wrong!?”

“Nothing is wrong, Yenna! Everything is awesome! Everything absolutely fucking rocks!”

“Did you get hit on the head by a falling branch between here and the mailbox or what? You were whining about your finals work not five min-”

“Look at this!” Jaskier shoves an open envelope into her hands and cuts her off. Yennefer reads the watermarked documents once. Twice. Her eyes almost pop out of her head when the words and their meanings finally sink in.

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“No, I am absolutely not!” her giddy roommate cheers, bouncing up and down in place. “I did it! I won!”

“Holy shit.”

“I know! I get to kiss Geralt deRiv!” he practically cackles. Then freezes. “Holy fuck I get to kiss Geralt deRiv.”

“You said that already,” Yen teases. She shoves the paperwork back into his hands and grabs a takeout menu from the junk drawer near her hip. “Since you won the makeout lottery, you get to buy lunch. Lucky bastard.”

---

“So this will be your dressing room,” someone’s underpaid PA says, ushering Jaskier into a small, bright room. “Priscilla will be here shortly to get you into hair and makeup.”

“Oh, uh- thanks!”

“Yup.”

And with that, the young man disappears back down the hallway toward the sound stage. Jaskier jogs his leg anxiously as he waits for Priscilla to arrive, nervous and otherwise totally alone in the huge grey building. As the minutes tick by and his heart rate rises, Jaskier’s intrusive thoughts make an unwanted appearance: What if they forget about me being here? What if there’s been a mistake and they accidentally hired two love interests and I just sit in here for hours all alone while-

“Hi!” a bright, peppy blonde woman flies through the door and startles him back to reality. “Nice to meet you, I’m Priscilla! You can call me Priss; I’ll be doing your hair and makeup for the video this week!”

“Oh… hi. I’m Julian, but I prefer Jaskier.”

“Lovely! Well, Jaskier, is your hair naturally this color?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Perfect! I don’t want to mess with such a lovely shade of natural brown, but do you mind if I give it a bit of a trim? I have a few ideas for styles right here in my book- How do you feel about some feathering back here? I think-” she fluffs a few of the hairs around the nape of Jaskier’s neck “-I could really bring out the curls if I adjusted the length a bit and used some product.”

“Just, uhm, go for it, then! Feel free to make me as pretty as possible!” Jaskier declares. He’s committing to this experience wholeheartedly, determined to allow himself every opportunity for positive change. He wants to really let himself enjoy it, and he needs a haircut anyway. Priscilla spends an hour washing, cutting, drying, and styling his hair into a lovely fringed sweep across his forehead. It ends just above his brows, giving his face a slightly softer shape than usual. He grins over his shoulder, “I love it! I’m going to miss you when I’m back at Oxenfurt. Good stylists are so hard to find.”

Priss blushes and nudges against his shoulder, “Oh, you little charmer.”

“I mean it,” he says, examining himself in the mirror. “I look like I could really be worthy of a heroic rescue! This is going to be such a fantastic memory, and I appreciate it. Thank you so much.”

Priss bites back a genuine tear and smiles, “Now that your natural prettiness has been mildly enhanced, let’s get you over to wardrobe, shall we?”

“Wardrobe? Do I have, like, a costume? What’s the music video even about?”

“They didn’t tell you any of this when you got here?”

“Not… not really.”

“Well, my darling, I think you’re really going to like it; they’ve got you in Versace for the first scene.”

“Versace!?”

Then Jaskier is being ushered into a bright, colorful room full to bursting with grim-faced, middle-aged women and he loses track of his only braincell for the rest of the morning.

---

“You must be Julian!” Lambert declares, bounding up to him and grinning. It’s a feral, animalistic grin and Jaskier resists the sudden urge to take a step back.

“I prefer Jaskier, if you don’t mind too much,” Jaskier corrects him quietly. Lambert rolls his eyes in a long-suffering kind of way and throws a meaty arm around the shorter man’s shoulders, completely ignoring the wardrobe technician’s wincing as he wrinkles the expensive silk jacket.

“No need to be quiet and polite around here, my dude. We’re just a bunch of rowdy idiots, aren’t we, guys?”

“Hell yeah!” Aiden calls back. Eskel sighs like the put-upon nanny in a Victorian Redanian comedy.

“Speak for yourself,” Coen barely lifts his frosted tips up from his book long enough to speak. Geralt is-

Holy motherfucking Britney Spears on toast.

Geralt is the hottest thing Jaskier has ever seen in his short, unfulfilled-until-right-now life. Forget Ralph Macchio. Forget Leonardo Dicaprio and Kate Winslet and Winona Ryder. This man is… Geralt deRiv is… he’s the picture of perfection. And he’s right there, standing in front of an elaborate party set with his thick, beautiful arms crossed over his chest and his eyes trained on the floor, as if willing it to swallow him whole. Jaskier realizes that he probably didn’t have any choice in the matter; maybe this was just as awkward and uncomfortable for Geralt as it was for Jaskier.

“Ger-bear!” Lambert whoops, yanking Jaskier closer to the brooding frontman. If only he were brave enough to struggle for escape; alas. “This is your boy-toy for the week. Goes by Jaskier, apparently.”

“Nice to meet you,” Geralt manages to grunt. “How did you like the script?”

“I haven’t uh- I haven’t actually seen it?”

“Shit. Fuck. One second,” Geralt huffs, disappearing into the crowd of technicians and machinery operators and PAs. Jaskier loves him already, for real. Sure, he was pretty in the music videos and promo material, but the way he said fuck like it was the noblest word he could think of… Geralt interrupts his train of thought by coming back with a sheaf of papers clutched in his hand. He shuffle-shoves them into Jaskier’s arms immediately. “There you go.”

“Thank you!” Jaskier smiles. It’s genuine and shy, more tenuous than his usual goofy grin. He flips through the pages, glancing between the script to his expensive suit, “So I’m guessing we’re at a party for this scene? Or something?”

“This is… where we meet. This is where… you and I uh…”

Jaskier’s eyes scan the page as Geralt’s ability to speak slowly leaves him.

Lover ENTERS LEFT, dressed to the nines. Lover adjusts their tie/boa and takes a look around the room. S/He looks sad and a little hopeful. PULL BACK to Geralt, who approaches slowly. Their eyes meet. HOLD SHOT. PULL BACK as they move towards each other. Geralt pulls Lover into his arms and they begin to dance.

“Oh, wow.”

“I hope it’s okay! If you’re not comfortable with that kind of thing we can-”

“I’ll be alright, thank you. I came here to put my acting chops to the test. Well, that and meet my favorite band, of course. Thank you again, by the way. It’s been wonderful so far and I really appreciate you allowing me to be here.”

“Allowing? Psh. Geralt ha-” Lambert is cut off by Aiden, who elbows him sharply in the side. “Ow! What the fuck, babe?”

“I knew it!” Jaskier crows, distracted. “I knew you two were an item!”

“They’re not exactly subtle.”

“They never confirm anything either,” Jaskier retorts. Geralt shrugs his acknowledgement and moves back towards the set. Jaskier follows after the taller man like a lost puppy, eyes flicking from one thing to the next, hungry for detail even in his anxiety ridden state. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and he doesn’t want to waste a solitary second of it. “This is incredible, really just...wow. You guys do this all the time? You get to make tiny little movies for already great songs that you get to perform for millions of adoring fans? And you get paid!?”

Geralt hadn’t ever really thought about it like that. He’d been raised in the industry. He’d signed to Kaer Morhen Records as an early teen because his mother was a member of the Board of Directors and he’d been making music ever since; an outsider’s perspective to things was… new. A little strange. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty much what we do.”

“Wow.”

“It’s not that exciting, I promise.”

“Have you ever written a fifteen page paper about the history of lute-string design and manufacturing?”

“No.”

“Then kindly shut the fuck up about what I should consider exciting,” Jaskier grins. Geralt is immediately and irrevocably smitten. Fuck. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes! “So, which door am I entering from?”

“Left,” Geralt points. Jaskier skips over and begins to introduce himself to the sound and lights crew. His smile seems to be as infectious as his cheer and soon the entire set crew is smiling at one another. There’s been a literal shift in the atmosphere; if he didn’t know any better, the TW5 frontman thinks Jaskier might be some kind of magical creature, because he can’t just be human. Geralt is well and truly fucked, and everyone in the band already knows.

---

“What do you think?” Jaskier asks, slipping anxiously from behind the changing screen. The Versace is gone and in its place are a pair of tight, high-waisted blue pleather pants and a billowing white shirt, which has been strategically ripped in several places to reveal slivers of the lightly tanned skin that lies beneath. He looks like he’s in desperate need of rescuing. He looks like every fantasy Geralt has ever had about the perfect guy. He looks like a fucking dream.

“Nice,” he says.

Lambert and Aiden wolf-whistle and cheer as they approach. Aiden claps twice, loudly, and shoots Jaskier a set of finger guns, “Hot damn, baby. You single? You lookin’ to mingle? Because I am bi and spoon like a Pringle.”

“First of all, babe, I love you but that was the most horrific combination of words yet known to man. Second of all, yeah, I’d dump Aiden for you for sure,” Lambert adds. Jaskier is at a total loss for words. His mouth hangs open and his breath comes in uneven little gasps for a moment.

“Uh… I- Thank you?”

“Oh god, Eskel! Eskel, he’s short circuiting, do something.”

“You absolute-” Eskel groans and makes his way over to the gathered group. He tugs Jaskier away and over to the other end of the set, where a comically huge rocket/bomb (Jaskier can’t tell) is standing at the center of a vaguely science-themed room. A laboratory, maybe? Or like, a really weird spacecraft? A hospital run by rocket scientists? It doesn’t matter, it’s the Evil Lair of the Villain and that’s where Jaskier is being held captive. “Here, Cameron and Elise will help you get set up for the next scene. I’m sorry about the boys they’re... gay?”

“I understand,” Jaskier nods sagely and Eskel relaxes. Then for comedy’s sake he adds an equally dramatic, “I too am... gay.”

The set dresser, an electrician, and a few specialists (likely a rope rigger among them) come over and tie Jaskier to the bomb/rocket/villainous mechanism, ending his conversation with Eskel, who is now in a much better mood than he was before.

Jaskier is told to make sure his hands are crossed behind the small of his back and the director instructs him to wiggle back and forth “as convincingly as possible without actually getting loose or moving the ropes too much”. Which is manageable, he supposes.

“Then, when the chorus comes up, we’ll get a few shots of the boys dancing in front of you,” the director continues to explain. That’s… kind weird, but okay. I’ve seen weirder. “Then we’ll do the action shots, with Geralt rescuing you. Are you okay to do the kiss, or would you rather not? We have dynamic shots with or without, so it’s totally up to you.”

“I’m fine with that,” Jaskier smiles shyly. “I consent to be smooched.”

“Adorable,” Lambert calls. Jaskier blushes and the director shoots Lambert a glare.

“He’s already pink enough, don’t make me change my gels you little shithead!”

“Sorry, Pierre!”

“Fucking sorry my ass,” Pierre grumbles beneath his breath. Then he smiles at Jaskier. “Do something nasty to him for me, will you? Not too nasty but… just a little?”

“I’ve got your back,” Jaskier winks.

“No plotting! Not fair!” Aiden whines.

“You have a team,” Pierre retorts. “Now I have a team.”

“Rules are rules,” Eskel sighs. “Now can we please shoot this damn video?”

“Right,” Pierre claps, getting everyone’s attention. “Places!”

---

Geralt races up the stairs, trying to keep the long sleeves of his black mesh shirt from catching on any of the set pieces. The solid black t-shirt he’s wearing underneath makes his arms and back look bulkier than normal; it’s a visual technique to make him look larger than Jaskier, whose billowing white shirt will hide how wide his shoulders actually are. Fuck, those are some nice shoulders. And the smattering of dark chest hair that peeks from the front of the college student’s shirt? Geralt wants to bury his face in it.

Okay, focus.

He reaches the top of the set and rushes towards Jaskier, ripping the ropes from around his torso and pulling him close. He cups the back of Jaskier’s head with his upstage hand, framing the slightly smaller man for the camera and making him seem even shorter, another trick of angles and body posturing. Geralt plays Jaskier like an instrument, bending him back by placing his downstage arm around Jaskier’s waist, pressing their mouths together and holding them still for as long as it takes the director to yell, “Cut!” with a satisfied tone of voice.

Geralt’s suspicions are confirmed when Pierre laughs and claps some more and cries, “Print it, lads! That was a one-take wonder!”

He tries to ignore the way Jaskier’s shoulders slump as if disappointed. “Good job,” he manages to say.

“You, too.” Geralt wishes he could keep a picture of Jaskier smiling in his back pocket forever. No other sight could light up the world so effortlessly. “Thanks for being gentle.”

“I’m trying to sweep you off your feet,” the singer shrugs. Jaskier wiggles his eyebrows and follows Geralt down the narrow set stairs.

“Are you, really?”

“Is it working?” Geralt asks, turning to look up at Jaskier. The student pauses to look at him and his foot catches on an uneven board. He topples forward with a short cry of surprise and seems surprised when Geralt reaches out to catch him. “Jaskier!”

“Oh my god!” Lambert races over, Aiden hot on his heels. “Are you okay, dude?”

“I’m fine,” Jaskier laughs, a little breathless. “Just a little shocked.”

“You should take him to get a snack or something,” Eskel says, nudging his shoulder against Geralt’s. “He’s been busy all day and hasn’t even been to craft services.”

“You haven’t eaten?” Geralt asks, honestly baffled. Jaskier shakes his head, face heating once again. He wishes he could stop blushing, but Geralt’s presence seems to make it impossible. He wraps one arm around the younger man’s temptingly slender waist and leads him towards the food carts. He shoves a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of punch into Jaskier’s hands, not giving him a chance to argue. “Here, I’ll have something, too.”

“Thanks,” Jaskier smiles, understanding that he is, in turn, being understood. They sit comfortable folding chairs off to the side, food spread across their laps. Jaskier laughs and chats around his mouthfuls, pulling things from Geralt like his favorite color and his least favorite nicknames. Songs he liked and dances he disliked.

“You made it fun again, today,” the singer smiles. “Thank you for that. I wish you could be here for every video shoot.”

“Looking for another member of the band?” Jaskier jokes, doing some half-hearted jazz hands. Geralt shakes his head and laughs.

“I wish we were,” he sighs. “But I guess five is the magic number.”

“Makes the dances look cooler,” Jaskier nods. “I agree with whoever made that decision. I wouldn’t dare ruin the aesthetic.”

Geralt laughs again and Vesemir turns to look, honestly shocked at the volume of the sound.

“Plus, you can’t be the frontman if there’s no front.”

“Shut up,” Geralt chuckles, still grinning broadly.

Vesemir makes a phone call.

---

2 Weeks Later, Backstage in Kaedwen

---

“He’s been sulking like this ever since Jaskier went back to Oxenfurt,” Lambert whines. “C’mon Vesemir, do something.”

“What do you want me to do, make Geralt’s boyfriend appear out of thin air?”

“Not my boyfriend,” Geralt growls, stomping past his bandmates and manager. He can’t help but feel grumpy. Jaskier had been like the sun, bringing light and wonder to everything he touched, and without that joy around it doesn’t seem worth the extra effort to smile. So he’s been moping.

“Fucking hell,” Vesemir sighs. “Thank goodness I thought ahead.”

“What do you mean?” Eskel asks, joining the little group in the hallway outside the dressing room. “What did you think of?”

“Three,” Vesemir smiles, glancing at his watch. “Two… One…”

“Boooooys,” echoes a high tenor. “Where’s my welcome wagon, Vesemir?”

“Jaskier!” Aiden practically screams, leaping out of the dressing room and flying down the hall. Lambert follows at a sprint and Vesemir hears the resounding oof oh fuck of both giddy musicians hitting their mark.

Geralt comes back down the hall at a jog, eyes searching frantically. “I thought I heard-”

“Geralt!”

Vesemir’s heart clenches in his chest at the way Geralt’s face lights up. At the end of the hallway, surrounded by spilled luggage and apologetic boyband members, is Jaskier. Geralt floats to him, it seems, like he’s dreaming the whole thing. Jaskier takes his hands and then releases them and wraps his arms low around Geralt’s hips instead.

“I missed you the most,” he whispers, just for Geralt to hear. “Couldn’t sleep without listening to your CD. I know it’s silly but I really like you.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispers reverently into his shaggy brown hair. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to do my thesis on pop culture’s relation to music history,” he says. “And then the manager of TW5 called Oxenfurt and offered me the opportunity to do some… first hand research while I worked on finishing the paper.”

“R-Really? You’re going to be here… every day?”

“Do you… do you not want me he-”

Geralt kisses him before he can even finish the question. It’s a stupid question anyway, of course Geralt wants him here. Wants him right here, kissing him silly. The singer presses his lips desperately, crushingly against Jaskier’s; he never wants to part from this man again. He never wants to be without that glorious laughter and contagious liveliness. Who knew that life could be so full of delight and happiness if he only let it?

He kisses Jaskier for all he’s worth and more, pouring his heart and soul into it. When they pull apart, both gasping for air, Geralt asks, “Stay with me, Jaskier? You don’t have to do anything I just-”

“I’d love to be the big spoon,” Jaskier winks, whispering again. “Thank you, Geralt, for the rescue.”

#geraskier #bouncey's buddies #prompt fill #geraskier fic #geraskier ficlet #geraskier fluff #getting together #boyband au #geraskier boyband au #the witcher five and their hit song 'please lambert stop farting on the bus'#ellie has the braincell #thirsty jaskier #thirsty geralt #soft geralt #protective geralt #clumsy jaskier #soft boys content #bouncey's endless au collection #bouncey's endless getting together fics

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stayndays · 4 years ago

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𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐬! - 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧

part of my anime!skz series, this story is based off of “Toradora!” and will include spoilers on the plot of the show.

genres & tropes: fluff, minor angst (mostly at the end), high school au, love triangle/square, enemies & neighbors to lovers au, tsundere!jeongin (i guess?), gender neutral reader, reader is misunderstood as a cold person

disclaimers: drowning (but no death), mentions of rumor spreading & outcasting, mentions of anxious feelings/actual anxiety, one or two swear words, i have not proofread this so if the last few episodes seem really wonky that’s why

word count: 11k... we don’t comment on that

summary: “Y/L/N Y/N. Yang Jeongin. Kim “Chuu” Jiwoo. Kim Seungmin. You like Seungmin, Jeongin likes Chuu. You’re best friends with Chuu, Jeongin’s best friends with Seungmin. You don’t like Jeongin, but you know about each other’s crush. It’s time to play a game of Cupid, while being struck with Cupid’s arrow yourself.”

a/n: happy valentines day and belated jeongin day! this is the first story i’ve decided to tackle for my anime!skz series as well, so i get to hit three birds with one stone with this fic. also, i decided to take out a couple elements in the original anime (such as the addition of a character that’s like ami, taiga’s family issues, and some events) just so it’s simpler and totally not because i’m on a time crunch. i hope you enjoy reading this! <3

taglist: @skzwriternet @dayawantstosleep @desertofdessert @mr-jisung @dreamylunarnight (sorry if i forgot you i’m running on 0.2 braincells)

anime!skz masterlist is here!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Episode 1: Collision Course

“Psst, look over there!”

“Huh? What?”

“The fennec fox is about to face off against the dark delinquent!”

You turn to face the two students after overhearing the words “dark delinquent”, making the duo back away in fear. Cursing your parents who gave you these intimidating genes, you heave out a breath out of annoyance, and continue walking down the hallway.

Alas, maybe your appearance is the reason why people never approach you unless it’s absolutely necessary. You still manage to give off this dark atmosphere despite how much you try to change your appearance.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” your best friend, Chuu, attempts to reassure you. “It’s only the first day of school! You still have an entire school year to prove them wrong.”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t envy your best friend, who basically embodies the definition of the sun. Always smiling and having a positive attitude regarding the situation, you just so happened to be the exact opposite of her. Boys are constantly crushing on her, she’s one of the most popular girls of your year, but she just so happens to be buddies with you.

“Oh, watch out Y/N!” Distracted by your thoughts, you process Chuu’s warning just a second too late, and collide with a particularly tall boy, somehow smacking your face right into the torso part of his male school uniform. The force manages to knock the both off you to the ground, sending your papers flying all over the place.

Oh, that’s right. That’s what the two girls were talking about. You’ve heard rumors of who this “fennec fox” person is, and how he has a really bad temper when you push his gears. But this guy you just bumped into? A fennec fox?

You guess you can see some resemblance of a fox in his facial structure, but his figure literally towered over you, making you feel like an ant standing next to a tree. The small crowd of passing students trying their absolute least to hold in their giggles make you feel even smaller, your neck growing hot because of how embarrassed you are.

“Watch where you’re going next time!” the boy scolds you, brushing off the paper that landed on top of his head. His voice makes you flinch slightly, and it’s only in that moment that you realize the rumors, so far at least, were true.

“Er, sorry,” you quietly mumble out, scratching the side of your face. He definitely looks pissed, you thought, smoke practically fuming out of the guy’s ears. “Here, I’ll help you gather your stuff.”

“I’ll help you guys out, too!” you hear a familiar voice, and meet the eyes belonging to a face you know all too well.

Kim Seungmin: your secret crush that nobody truly knows about (you’ve tried approaching the topic to Chuu multiple times, only to be interrupted by her other friends). He’s the vice president of your school, a role he’s gained through the student body president herself. The definition of hardworking and kind at the same time, who would you be not to fall for a guy like him?

Your breath gets caught up in your throat as you try to answer him. “Oh- Uh- Thank you, Seungmin.”

“Of course! Wouldn’t hurt to help out my best friend, too,” Seungmin replies.

Best friend?

“Thanks..” the boy simply mumbles in response, and you almost did a double take on what you just heard. Seungmin and this guy... best friends? Before you can dwell on it long enough, however, you’re already being pulled to your feet by Chuu, and your papers are back in your hands.

“Let’s go, Y/N!” Chuu beams with enthusiasm, and you could only afford a small smile in return. “Say, which class are you two in this year?”

“2-A,” the boy answers in a composed manner, the anger he released on you must’ve vanished by now, and you could almost see the pink dust coating his face. “What about you, Chuu?”

You can’t even process the way the guy completely skipped over you to only ask Chuu personally before you blurt out,

“We’re in the same class?!”

Episode 2: A Bold Strategy

Bad news: your love letter is gone.

That bastard fox dude, Jeongin, you learned his name was, must’ve taken it when you bumped into him in the morning. Not that you blame him entirely, because how could you remember to grab your letter in the ocean of textbooks and notebook paper?

Good news: you have his own love letter.

Why good news? Well, that just means he’s in the exact same boat as you, and now you can call yourself even with him. An exchange of love letters, it almost makes your heart calm down for a split second.

Until you read who the letter was addressed to.

There’s no way in hell this guy could get with your best friend. Jeongin, based off of first impressions, is a literal firecracker (who, for some reason, shouts at people he just met), while Chuu is a ball of sunshine. You don’t blame him, though, as almost every male classmate you’ve had has taken some sort of interest in her at some point, and you guess he’s no exception.

Then again, you’re in the same situation as him, crushing on somebody way out of your league.

While Seungmin is a star student, always willing to help people out and socialize, you’re a total outcast who can barely get average grades in school. Seungmin just so happened to be one of two (the other being Chuu) who’s approached you willingly, and that’s why you fell for him. That charming smile of his, and his caring nature. It was all too much for you.

As you thought about it more, flipping Jeongin’s love letter to Chuu between the flesh of your fingers, it’s not a terrible idea to help out Jeongin. He may currently have a 0% chance of getting with Chuu, but if you succeed and play a bit of matchmaking, he could return the favor to you.

You like his best friend, he likes your best friend...

You gently rip open the envelope encasing Jeongin’s letter, and start reading.

Episode 3: The Cupid Game Begins

“Uh, Jeongin-” you tap the boy’s shoulder once, which was conveniently right in front of your desk. He continues to talk to the people around him, which makes you tap his shoulder harder.

Jeongin whips his head around to meet your calm eyes, only turning slightly frightened when you flinch at his sudden movement. “Wha- Ah! What do you want?” He says in an aggravated tone.

“Sorry,” you apologize quickly for making him jump, not wanting to cause another scene like yesterday. “I just need to talk to you about something for a few minutes.”

Jeongin lets out a groan, fixing his position so he can look behind him more comfortably. “What exactly do you want to talk about?”

“Something I’m sure you don’t want your friends to hear,” you respond casually, picking at the skin on your fingers. The boy’s eyes visibly perk up at your reasoning, and finally nods. “Thanks,” you say to him and stand up, pushing in your seat.

“Careful Jeongin!”

“Fight back if they hit you!”

You let out a deep sigh at the comments directed towards you, not even bothering to shoot them a glance in response. It’ll only make the rumors worse, you think as you walk out of the classroom, Jeongin trailing behind your footsteps after closing the door.

The hallway was silent once you stepped out of your class, no longer hearing the chattering of your fellow classmates about the latest gossip and homework. You could only hear your very own footsteps, along with Jeongin’s feet, which were behind you. Once the two of you made your way to the vending machines near the school stairs, you take out the coin you were holding in your hand and insert it into one of the machines.

“Which drink do you want?” you ask the boy without turning to face him, fishing out another coin in your mini wallet.

“The melon one-” Jeongin does a double take, not believing what he heard as he watches you insert another coin into the vending machine. “Wait, why are you buying a drink for me?” He questions your antics, slowly sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.

You stick your hand into the machine to grab Jeongin’s drink, making eye contact with him as you hand it over. “Why not? Is there a reason I should be buying you a drink?”

“Well, I mean,” Jeongin scratches the back of his neck in confusion. “Aren’t you supposed to be... a delinquent?”

You chuckle at his explanation, “Does that mean you’re a fox? Our nicknames in this school are only based off of our appearances, isn’t that funny?” Joining him on the floor, you crack open your own drink. “So no, I’m not a delinquent, and I’ll never be one.”

“That’s not what I’m here to talk about anyways,” you don’t bother to check Jeongin’s facial expressions as you continue, starting to take out his envelope before you’re stopped by him.

“Wait! I have something to give you too,” Jeongin stops your movement, slipping out something from his pocket as well.

“Is this yours?”

You both say at the same time, revealing each other’s envelopes. There’s yours, with a tacky, red heart sticker stamped onto the envelope to seal it. Then there’s Jeongin’s, with only the word “To: Chuu” on the back.

Jeongin quickly snatches his letter from your hand, and quickly throws your own onto your lap. “Uh, thanks for returning it. You didn’t- Give it to Chuu for her to read... right?”

“Of course not.”

“And you didn’t read what’s inside?”

“..You got me there, I’ll admit it,” you chuckle slightly, raising your hands in defeat as your face starts to grow hot. Jeongin hums a bit, surprisingly not even a tad bit angry at your confession.

“Well,” Jeongin leans back against the wall. “I guess we’re even then.”

“What?!” you exclaim in surprise. “I mean- Yeah, cool. Actually, this works out perfectly.”

“Why?”

“I have a proposal for you,” you start. “We both like each other’s best friend, right? So we could be each other’s wingman and try to get with our crush. It’ll just take a bit of cooperation, though.”

Jeongin scoffs, “You made me look like a fool on the first day of school, why should I?”

“Well, besides being the apparent ‘delinquent’ of this school, I’d say I’m quite good at matchmaking thanks to Chuu, a cupid, you could almost say,” you cross your arms in defense. “Then again, since I’ve already read your sappy love letter to Chuu, I could always tell her that-”

“Fine!” Jeongin finally gives in. “I’m in, I’m in. I have absolutely no idea how I could get somebody like Seungmin to like somebody like you, but if you’re able to get me and Chuu into a relationship, I’ll try my best to play cupid. Okay?”

“I’m just going to ignore that comment about me and take it,” you shrug, standing up after checking the clock on the wall. “I’ll give you my address on a piece of paper later, so we could meet up and start planning.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jeongin follows your actions, standing up and tossing his drink into the trash can.

“Remind me to pay you back for the drink, by the way.”

Episode 4: His Angelic Neighbor

“How ironic.”

“How ironic, indeed,” Jeongin agrees with you, the two of you standing at the entrance of Eda Apartments Complex, your backpacks on your back.

The studio apartment complex the both of you just so happen to live in, that is.

Part of you is relieved that you live near Jeongin, so maybe you could get to know him better (not as a friend, of course, but to see if Chuu would actually like him), and of course to work out your cupid plans together. However, the other part of you is confused as to why you’ve never even seen him around your apartment until now.

These thoughts run through your head as Jeongin leads you to his apartment, walking up a lengthy three flights of stairs, as opposed to your usual two.

When he’s about to open the door to his place, Jeongin turns around to face you, key in hand. “Whatever you do, don’t comment about my place.”

“Okay...?” you comply with an incredibly confused tone, but it seems to be enough for Jeongin, as he swings the door open.

Soda cans upon soda cans are messily piled up near a trash can, which was overflowing with paper plates and tissues. His bed, which is in the corner of the room (which, to be fair, it’s a studio apartment, and you have the same bed layout as him), wasn’t even made, and what you could assume to be a dining table had leftover Chinese takeout boxes on it.

When you peered into the sink after reluctantly placing your belongings near the door, it’s almost clogged up with muck and filth, making a shiver run down your spine. Not to mention, when you asked Jeongin if you could have a drink from the fridge, all your eyes could see were frozen meals & rows of soda and juice. How long has Jeongin been living this way?

“Uhm, hate to mention this to you,” you close the fridge gently after grabbing a can of soda. “but your place is really-”

“What did I say to you before I opened the door?” Jeongin fires back before you could finish.

You stay silent.

“Exactly. Now can we please start talking about our ‘Cupid Plans’ as you like to refer to it?” Jeongin raises an eyebrow at you, taking out the items in his backpack.

“It’s a cute name, okay?” you respond, making your way to the table as Jeongin pushes the takeout boxes to the side. “And we’ll be studying too, we have a quiz tomorrow, remember?”

“I’ll rather do the studying later,” Jeongin. “So what does Chuu like?”

“Hmm...” it takes you a moment to think about what your best friend likes when it comes to love, which is a bit strange, because you’d think you’d know what Chuu likes after watching people confess to her after all these years. “I think she’d prefer something planned? Even extravagant, if you really push it. She likes plushies and small gifts.”

“What about Seungmin?” you ask Jeongin.

It also takes Jeongin a second to come up with an answer. “He’s always been into nerdy, yet bubbly people, I guess? Since you’re so antisocial, though, he probably won’t like somebody like you right now.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“I’m only trying to help!”

The conversation shifts slightly, and to your surprise, flows well despite your polar opposite personality. You and Jeongin discuss possible ideas as to how both of you could help each other out while studying for your upcoming quiz.

“And for equation 17, would it be-” you lift your head up from your math textbook, only to see Jeongin using his arm as a pillow and sleeping on his own book. You blink a couple times in disbelief, but remember that you’ve been over at his house for a little over three hours at this point. Shrugging, you gently close your textbook and decide to call it a day at Jeongin’s place.

But then you go back to your senses and remember how filthy of an apartment you’ve been at this entire time. The more you look at your surroundings, the more you desire to clean up the place.

A neat freak, that’s what everybody calls you. It’s what your mom taught you all throughout your childhood, and it’s a trait you’ve kept until now.

Your mind goes into autopilot mode as you start moving around his place left and right. Somehow, you were able to find a box of plastic gloves stored in the back of the sink cabinet, so you put a pair on and start cleaning. Tying up garbage bags and cleaning out the sink, you also make the effort to place the leftover Chinese food into the fridge after checking if it’s spoiled or not. Most people would stare at you in confusion, but you shake your head at the thought, only hoping that Jeongin would at least appreciate your efforts.

By the end of your cleaning session, you could now call the studio apartment an apartment, and not some kind of swamp. Pleased at your work, you take out one of your notebooks and rip out a piece of paper, grabbing a pencil along the way. You write a quick note for Jeongin to read when he wakes up:

“Cleaned up your place while you were asleep, I could also cook for you and teach you how to cook? (Chuu likes food) text me: xxx-xxx-xxxx”

Swinging your backpack onto your pack, you leave his apartment and make your way to your own.

Later that night, your phone dings with a message from an unknown number.

[Unknown: i’m so tired of frozen meals and takeout, please cook for me (and teach me how)]

Episode 5: However

“Here’s your lunch, Yang,” you pass your spare lunchbox to the seat in front of you, which Jeongin takes gratefully. Chuu, who was making her way over to the seat next to you, catches sight of your interaction with Jeongin.

“Y/N’s food is good, isn’t it Jeongin?” Chuu strikes up a conversation right away, leaving Jeongin flustered, and most likely burning hot.

“Y-Yeah, it is.”

“Say, you two have been talking a lot lately,” Chuu starts talking as you tilt your head up to take a sip of your drink. “Have you two been, or should I say, has Y/N finally gotten a-”

You choke on your drink, almost spitting it all over Jeongin’s back before catching yourself. Jeongin has almost the same reaction as you, only choking on the food you prepared for him instead. It had only been two weeks of school; two weeks of talking to Jeongin solely about each other’s crush, and yet Chuu believes that you two have something going on.

“Absolutely not, Chuu.”

“Yeah, no way.”

You exchange a glare with Jeongin, almost in a panicked manner. If Chuu believes that you two are dating, that would practically be the end of your chances to be with Seungmin, same going for Jeongin with Chuu.

“Alrighty then, I trust you two,” Chuu leans back in the chair she’s sitting on, before promptly getting up and making her way to the door of the classroom. “I’m gonna use the bathroom.”

As soon as she closes the door, Jeongin immediately leans over to your desk, ignoring his bento box. “We have to do something about what Chuu said.”

“Duh, there’s no way we could let her think that about us,” you agree with him. “What are some solutions? We could try to be more distant with each other, which honestly I don’t think either of us would mind too much. I could simply tell Chuu that we aren’t even close friends, or-”

“You need to confess to Seungmin,” Jeongin bluntly tells you, catching you off guard.

“What- why would I do that?!” you almost yell at the boy in front of his face. His plan is all kinds of crazy, you would’ve never thought of it yourself.

“You’ve known Seungmin longer than I’ve known Chuu, so you have a lower risk of being rejected. And if you actually end up dating Seungmin, then Chuu would know that us two aren’t a couple,” Jeongin crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s a win-win situation.”

You scoff, “And if I get rejected?”

“I’ll like- I don’t know, buy you ice cream?” Jeongin attempts to persuade you, to which you sigh as a response.

“I guess I’ll trust you on this.”

The day passes by without a hitch, to your utter shock, as the churning in your stomach says otherwise. The thought of impulsively confessing to your long time crush makes you feel lightheaded and dizzy, as it was something you’ve never done before. However, your stubbornness is refusing you to back down from Jeongin’s wild plan, so here you are, face to face with Seungmin at the roof of the school.

“Erm- So-”

“The weather is pretty nice today, isn’t it Y/N?” Seungmin casually breaks the ice wall between you two.

The sudden question catches you off guard. “Ah, yes.. yes it is...” Already, you could feel the heat rising up your body, even when the weather today was particularly cloudy. “Uhm, I brought you here to tell you something, Seungmin.”

“Oh, what is it?” Seungmin seems surprised at your statement, but the voice in your head tells you otherwise. He’s smart enough to look through people, you know that already, so why are you trying to hide your feelings when you’re already this far?

It’s time to take a leap of faith, you think, as you take in a large breath before telling him everything. “Uh, you see.. I’ve always appreciated you ever since you approached me that one day. Nobody’s ever done that for me except for you and Chuu, and because of that I think you’re a.. great person... What- What I’m trying to say here is-”

“I like you, Seungmin.”

You tilt your head downwards, almost in shame as you play with your fingers anxiously. Letting out a shaky exhale, you can’t believe that you just confessed all of those things to your own crush. Your heart beating a thousand miles a second, it felt like you were about to explode from either embarrassment or anticipation; quite possibly even both at the same time.

“You, know, Y/N..” Seungmin starts to chuckle, grabbing onto his left wrist with his right hand.

“I used to like you.”

That made you look back up at him in shock, blinking a couple times out of disbelief. “Really?!”

Seungmin simply hums, confirming what he just stated. “That’s why I approached you in the first place. There was something about you that drew me into talking to you. And of course, you didn’t disappoint me,” he flashes you a comforting smile, but it soon goes away at his next word.

“However...”

Seungmin leaves you hanging after that one word: however. His mouth opens and closes, most likely trying to come up with the right words to say. You wobble your feet back and forth, becoming more and more impatient.

But then, he says something. A simple, ten word sentence. Not a compound nor a complex sentence. Easy for a little kid to understand.

“I hope we can be good friends in the future.”

And yet it cracks your heart.

In a blink of an eye, Seungmin has disappeared from your view. An unexpected wind blows through your body, almost feeling like a comforting pat on the back after being rejected; friend-zoned.

You make your way to the front of the school, dragging your feet in a lazy manner. Jeongin’s head perks up when he nears footsteps, only to gaze down at your slumped figure. Letting out a deep exhale, you give Jeongin a glare that could cut him in half; one of disappointment and exhaustion.

“You owe me ice cream.”

The ice cream place is about two blocks away from your apartment complex, decorated in obnoxious pastel colors that make your eyes squint. Jeongin is relatively quiet throughout your walk there, only offering to carry your backpack if it’s too heavy for you, to which you declined quietly. You can feel the burn of his eyes on top of your head, anticipating for you to let out a scream in anger, but you’re simply not that kind of person.

You remain deep in thought even when you sit down, grabbing a menu to cover your face. Jeongin’s eyes remain on your figure, and you wonder if he’s actually, genuinely, worried for you.

“Er, what do you want to order?” Jeongin asks you in an attempt to break the tension. “I’ll pay, since you seem a bit heartbroken right now-”

“Hi, welcome 901 Freeze Treats Parlor-” you look up from the menu at the sound of a familiar, cheery voice.

You forgot Chuu works here.

And you forgot to tell Jeongin that information.

“Oh, Y/N! And Jeongin, hi guys,” Chuu flashes a grin at the both of you, and you can’t help but smile and almost giggle at how Jeongin grows beetroot red. She’s sporting a pair of pigtails in her hair, and the striped uniform topped with a cute hat on top. “What can I get you guys?” “I’ll- I’ll get the banana split Chuu!” Jeongin exclaims a bit too loud, attracting the rest of the customers at the parlor. Chuu, although a bit confused, seems to enjoy Jeongin’s enthusiasm for ice cream and writes down the order.

You set down the menu and point to what you want with a hum, to which Chuu bends forward slightly in order to see what you want. “You always order that, Y/N! Don’t you want to try something else?”

“I’m good, Chuu, thanks,” you give her a gentle smile, praying that she won’t comment about how tired and defeated you look. Fortunately for you, she leaves you alone, and you’re left back with just Jeongin.

“How have my letters been doing?” Jeongin blurts out before he could stop himself, covering his mouth with one of his hands soon after. “I- I mean, I shouldn’t.. really ask when you’re sad.. but I mean I might as well ask you since we just talked to her, right? Sorry-”

“They’re doing good, she likes them a lot,” you reply softly to the frantic boy, and he lets out a sigh of relief at your answer. You’ve spent the past few weeks helping Jeongin write love letters to Chuu, even decorating them with cute stickers. For once, your writing skills can come into play, and you haven’t let Jeongin down yet. “And it’s okay, my head is just in the clouds. At least he let me down gently.”

“What exactly did he say?” Jeongin eggs you on, wanting you to elaborate further.

“Something along the lines of us being good friends in the future,” you explain to him. “He even said that he used to like me, but I don’t know-”

“Then you still have a chance, right?” Jeongin doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence before jumping in. “He left the door wide open for you to walk into, or- something like that at least. And, now thinking about it, I actually do think he used to like you.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re only saying that to make me feel better about this.”

“No, really! He mentioned that he liked somebody quiet and mysterious, and that he was gravitated towards that person. He told me that he would approach that person someday. It must’ve been you! I’ve known Seungmin for years, and this is one of two times he’s told me about his crushes,” Jeongin carries on with his own explanation. “So, in conclusion, I still believe it’s possible to win over his heart.”

Your lips press into a thin line, “You sure? Like, you’re absolutely positive about this?”

Jeongin nods, and for the first time since you’ve met him, he sends you a genuinely positive smile. It’s not like the annoyed snarks or the cheeky smirks he gives you all the time, but rather, something you could find comfort in. Just like Seungmin’s smile.

“Okay then, I’ll trust you.”

Episode 6: Swimming Lessons

“Did you guys hear that the school’s swimming pool is opening next week?” A masculine voice you know all too well, yet you wish you didn’t at the same time, is heard from behind your back. Seungmin locks eyes with you as he tosses an arm around Jeongin’s shoulder while you continue walking down the hallway.

It’s all too weird in your opinion that Seungmin is actually even friendlier after rejecting you. Because, shouldn’t the two of you be distant for at least a week or two? You guess that’s just not how Seungmin operates, then, as he dove right back into talking with you after that dreadful day on the school rooftop.

“Yeah, Seung!” Jeongin answers with a joyful tone, giving you the chance to break your eye contact with Seungmin. You, on the other hand, were not a swimmer whatsoever.

Being submerged into a body of water to the point where your toes can’t reach the ground has never been ideal for you. Any kind of physical action required to even survive in the water is off putting in your option, so you’ve always stuck to dipping your feet into the water and nothing else.

But you guess that changes starting today.

“You know Seungmin,” Jeongin starts to say, “Y/N is actually a pretty good swimmer! I think they could even beat you in a swimming race.”

Your head jumps up in surprise, eyes widening when Jeongin turns to you. He mumbles the words “trust me” before going back to Seungmin. How many times will you have to trust Jeongin and his crazy schemes?

“Oh, really?”

Jeongin hums in confirmation, ignoring the side nudges coming from you.

“Then we should race once the pool opens, Y/N!” Seungmin suggests with visible excitement beaming from his face.

Your gut immediately tells you to deny, but then you have to consider Jeongin’s “trust me.” He seems fairly confident that everything would work out, so is the risk worth the possible reward?

“Oh- Uhm... Sure! Sure, let’s.. let’s race, yeah,” you manage to let out before you could change your mind. “Just give me time to prepare, I, uh, haven’t swam in a while.”

“Of course!” Seungmin grins. “Let’s do it in two weeks, okay?

All you could respond with is a nod, which Seungmin takes without anymore questions. He bids the both of you well, and makes a left to the student council room.

You feel like a puddle of mush, waiting to collapse onto the tile floor of the school hallway. “I. Hate. You,” you scowl harshly at Jeongin.

“What?” Jeongin is caught off guard at your sudden hostility. “You never mentioned that you were afraid of the pool, and I don’t think it’s that bad of an idea. This is your chance to impress Seungmin!”

You scratch your head in confusion and denial. “Isn’t this a bit much, though? And who’s going to teach me how to swim?”

“You could always get me back with any ridiculous idea on how to get Chuu to like me,” Jeongin suggests to you. “And I’ll teach you, I’m a decent swimmer.”

“Sure, sure. Thanks for the idea, by the way,” you comment with a smirk, watching as Jeongin’s expression turns into one of regret.

“Now, teach me how to swim.”

An entire two weeks pass, and with those two weeks, comes the opening of the school pool. Although the vast majority of your classmates are genuinely excited to get a chance to cool down in the recent, scorching weather, you’re visibly less enthusiastic about it. You still try to keep a smile on your face with Seungmin is around though, so he doesn’t see through the lie Jeongin spontaneously made up.

“Y/N!” Chuu approaches you after exiting the changing room near the pool; you’ve already changed prior to her. “Your race with Seungmin is today, right? I see you’re all decked out in floaties.”

“Yeah, I’m just, uh- using them for safety purposes.” you give her a short and sweet response due to the churning in your stomach after being reminded of the event happening today. It’s a shame that your entire class knows what’s going down in just a few minutes, because they’re all anticipating your match with Seungmin. “The Delinquent vs The Student Pet” is what they’ve dubbed the match.

Also, Seungmin was generous enough to add onto the rules that floats were allowed to be used. So now you have floats all around your figure: some attached onto you, some you have to hold.

“Hey Y/N-” Jeongin stops walking towards you after noticing Chuu, her hair in a braid and only wearing a casual swimsuit. “Oh- Hi Chuu!”

Chuu acknowledges Jeongin’s presence, but quickly turns back to you. “I hope you win the race, Y/N. I have faith that you could do it!”

“Y-Yeah Y/N! We didn’t train all for nothing,” Jeongin adds onto Chuu’s comment. Thankfully, although Chuu doesn’t even know that you couldn’t swim prior to now, she doesn’t question Jeongin’s extra addition of training. “Let’s head over to the start of the pool? Seungmin’s already there, I’m just here to fetch Y/N.”

“Okay! I’m referee as well, so I have to be there too,” Chuu claims, and the three

Seungmin turns around from a group of boys to greet you, “Hey, Y/N! Ready for our match?

“H-Hey Seungmin,” you greet him with a friendly, yet shy tone, along with a nod.

“Okay!” Chuu gathers everybody’s attention with just the sound of her voice. “We’re here today to watch the race of Y/N vs Seungmin. On the count of three, I’ll blow my whistle and they’ll start swimming. You must go to the end of the pool, and right back to where we are right now. Ready?”

“3...”

“Also, just to calm your nerves a bit,” Seungmin whispers to just you right before the race begins.

“2...”

“I already know that you didn’t know how to swim before this. It’s okay if you fail, I’ll make sure nobody makes fun of you. Just stay safe, okay?”

“1...”

Your breath hitches for a split second, but before you can fully process what Seungmin just confessed to you, the whistle blows.

Seungmin dives into the water head first, while you jump in measly with your feet touching the water before the rest of your body. By the time you’re able to start kicking your legs, Seungmin is already ahead of you, so you push against the wall using your feet and start doggy paddling. It’s quite pathetic, and you’re sure that’s what everybody is thinking as they watch you swim, but it doesn’t matter at this point.

Or does it?

Because while you’re swimming across the pool, your brain just had to remind yourself about what Seungmin said seconds before the race started. He already knew you couldn’t swim, so it’s not really about impressing him anymore.

Then again, it’s not necessarily about winning, but about showing Seungmin that you’re dedicated enough to try new things to have fun with him.

That’s why it matters now.

However, it feels like you’re sinking.

Throughout the race, you’ve lost float after float, and now you only have the two floats that wrap around your arms. The water is slowly starting to touch your lips, and falling into a standing position, making your situation even worse. Your heart pounds faster and faster in a panicked frenzy, struggling to comprehend what to do.

Thankfully, cupid comes to rescue you.

He jumps into the pool like a lifeguard, placing his hands near your armpits before pulling you out of the water with a surprising amount of strength. Despite the midst of chaos you were put in, you’re able to hear cheers and applauds, signaling that Seungmin must’ve finished the race. Once again, you’re left to vanish, with the only other misunderstood student to help you.

You feel the surface of the concrete outside of the pool on your bottom as you cough out water. Yet, Jeongin is nowhere in your sight.

That’s when you realized. He’s submerged under the water.

You assume that he must’ve lost energy while saving you, resulting in the two of you swapping places. Eyes widening at the sight, you sprint across the flooring of the pool site, screaming your lungs out for somebody to help.

“Shit!” you curse yourself when you finally get the an adult’s attention after being unable to get a classmate to help you. All of your classmates ended up next to Seungmin, aka, the opposite end of where you stopped swimming. It’s only when the teacher pulls Jeongin’s unconscious body out of the water for it to lay down that it grabs everybody’s attention, swarming to see what was happening.

That’s when you snap.

“I’m disappointed in all of you right now!” you scold all of your classmates, something you’d never think you’d get the courage to do until now. “All of you were focused on that stupid race, but you never bothered to check on Jeongin. He could’ve died because of your ignorance! I hope you all know that.”

After leaving your classmates’ mouths agape, you storm out of the crowd, and make your way to the changing room. Nobody, not even Chuu or Seungmin, bothers to approach you.

Later that day, after some of your classmates apologized for not noticing what was happening, you, and a now in-stable-condition Jeongin, walk home after an exhausting day. Not many words are said, just like your regular walks after each school day, until Jeongin turns to you.

“Uhm, I just wanna say..” Jeongin starts to speak,. “Thanks for defending me earlier after I drowned.”

You blink in surprise, “Wait, you heard all of that?”

“Yeah, I was already conscious for a few seconds before you started going off on them. But thank you, seriously. I appreciate it after being misunderstood by our classmates for all these years,” Jeongin sighs, and then gives you another one of his kind smiles.

“Of course...” your mouth forms a thin line after you mumble out those two words.

Why is your heart fluttering like Jeongin’s pair of cupid wings?

Episode 7: All For Your Happiness

“Hey Chuu, listen to this!” you hold your phone right next to Chuu’s ear, which was playing the sounds you’d find at a haunted mansion. She yelps once she realizes what she’s listening to, and pushes your phone away with her palm, making everybody laugh.

Never in a million years would you find yourself sitting on a train with Chuu, Jeongin, and Seungmin all at once. The four of you were on your way to Chuu’s beach house, a place you’ve been to before during every summer break prior to this one, but it was always just the two of you. Now, however, you have your very own crush tagging along, plus his own best friend (and you don’t exactly know what you should call him anymore... Friend? Good Friend? Partner in Crime? Cupid Partner?).

And you and Jeongin have a plan. One time, for once, you came up with, and you believe that it’s less traumatizing than nearly drowning in a pool.

It just so turns out that Jeongin is a horror movie enthusiast, so he slipped multiple DVD sets of horror movie classics into his suitcase to do a watching marathon at the beach house. It also turns out that Chuu is terrified of anything that could scare her, like jump scares. So, the plan is for Jeongin to become Chuu’s knight in shining armor for whenever she gets scared during this trip.

“Why are you making me listen to all of these things?” Chuu whines with a pout. To be fair, you’ve been making her listen to these chilling noises for the entire train ride, to the point where you’re almost at your stop.

“It’s kind of funny to watch your reactions, that’s all,” you semi lie, because while it is a bit hilarious to see Chuu’s dramatic reactions, you’re waiting for the moment for Jeongin to strike.

And it’s at that moment when Jeongin finally speaks up, “Er- Chuu! If you ever get scared during this trip, come to me and I’ll-”

You mouth the word “protect” to Jeongin once he stops speaking.

“Uh- protect you!” Jeongin finishes after looking at you.

“Oh okay!” Chuu gives Jeongin a heartfelt grin. “I’ll make sure to go to you then, thanks!”

Jeongin nods eagerly, something Seungmin chuckles at, and you lean back in your seat at ease. If you’re able to successfully help Jeongin be Chuu’s knight during this trip, you’re certain that Chuu will at least take some interest at Jeongin.

The train reaches your destination swiftly after Jeongin’s interaction with Chuu, and after a quick bus ride and a trek to the beach, you’ve finally reached Chuu’s family beach house.

“Wow, this is awesome Chuu!” Seungmin shouts gleefully as he looks at the house. The house is relatively small and gives off a modern feel, but it’s fortunately enough to fit four people in.

Chuu smiles at the compliment, “Thank you! My family is fortunate enough to own a place like this for the summer. But since my parents are always overseas when summer rolls around, this place turns into a paradise for Y/N and I!”

“Anyways,” Chuu continues. “We should probably clean up the house since it hasn’t been used since last year, but I say we go play on the beach first!”

While Seungmin and Jeongin nod their heads eagerly, a lightbulb is turned on in your head.

“Actually,” you speak up. “I’ll go on ahead and clean up the house first. It’s probably messy inside, and you guys know how much of a ‘neat freak’ I am.”

Jeongin seems to catch onto your idea, his eyebrows rising, “Oh, then I’ll clean up with Y/N too!”

“But you seem really excited for the beach Jeongin,” Seungmin questions, but Jeongin waves it off.

“It’s okay! You two can go play first,” Jeongin insists, and the other two don’t ask anymore questions, heading towards the ocean. “You really are a smart person, aren’t you Y/N?”

There it is; that fluttering in your heart again, but why now? “Well, you’re smart for catching on. Let’s go place scary traps all over the house?”

“Heck yeah.”

After some time cleaning up the house (and making what would be Seungmin and Jeongin’s room especially clean) and placing various objects around the rooms to create a horror effect, the two of you had finally joined the others at the beach. It was then that the “Scare Chuu Montage” officially began.

During your time at the beach, you attempted to kick some seaweed at Chuu’s legs to make her jump, but the ocean water never agreed to your intentions and spared her. That night, Chuu walked into the dark bathroom only to meet eyes with a reflection in the mirror. But when Jeongin came rushing over, Chuu had already turned on the light and saw the makeshift face you created on the mirror using face cream and cotton balls.

The second day, Chuu woke up to the sound of being a woman screaming her head off, making her jump out of her bed in alert. It was simply a sound you found on the internet, but at least it woke up her up. The day was spent shopping at the nearby mall, so you couldn’t do very much to scare Chuu other than to hide at various nooks and crannies. You also ordered for Jeongin to stay by Chuu’s side at all times, but he didn’t do very much other than attempt to hold her hand (which was a very poor attempt, so of course, he failed). At least you and Seungmin talked individually while getting some ice cream, and to your utter surprise, it wasn’t that awkward.

The third day, you finally got Seungmin on board with your plans. Although a bit skeptical at first, you insisted that it would be a fun and harmless prank, and counteracted him by saying he laughed when Chuu got scared during the train ride. With Seungmin teaming up with you and Jeongin (without knowing your real intentions with the pranks), the horror movie marathon started despite Chuu’s pleads (to ensure that Chuu didn’t find any other movie disks around the place, you hid them all on the first day in a location she’d never look).

With Jeongin and Chuu on the couch and you and Seungmin on the floor, you don’t think it’s possible for the two to still be away from each other after this marathon ends. The first movie starts off generally slow pacing, but it’s enough for Chuu to mutter out pleas of worry for the characters. Jeongin quietly laughs at her antics, telling her once more that he’s there if she needs to be comforted, and you give Jeongin a mental high five.

By the end of the night, the two were cuddling, Chuu’s face looking especially scarred, while you and Seungmin finished the massive bowl of popcorn. When the lights finally came on, Chuu and Jeongin finally realized the position they were both in, and quickly scurried away from each other to your amusement.

The fourth morning came shortly afterwards, and with that morning came the end of your trip at the beach house. Although it was spent mostly with your attempts at scaring your very own best friend, you still had fun yourself, and even spent some time with your crush.

And it seemed like your efforts finally paid off, because Chuu wanted to talk with Jeongin privately.

After Jeongin shoots a glance at you while walking off to a private room of the house with Chuu, you quickly shuffle your feet over when Chuu’s not looking, placing your back against the wall. You hear footsteps inside the room before they suddenly stop, and then hushed whispers are all you could hear.

But then, Jeongin’s voice increases in volume.

“You.. You knew that we were pranking you?”

Your next breath gets caught up in your throat once you realize what exactly that meant.

You failed?

Chuu hums, “I did, but I didn’t bother to tell you because it looked like you and Y/N were having so much fun. Actually, I was only guessing that you were pranking me this entire time, until Seungmin came and confirmed it with me.”

“Seungmin?!”

“Yeah, Seungmin! I guess he played you guys,” Chuu laughs. “At least you had fun on this trip! I actually did, too, because I love scary stuff. I’m not afraid of it at all.”

“Oh...”

“Hey, cheer up! You made me happy, and you’re happy too, isn’t that what matters?” Chuu reassures Jeongin. “Anyways, we should continue packing. I just wanted to get that off of my chest.”

You hear more footsteps, and then something that sounds like a cushioned thud.

“Thank you, Jeongin.”

You must’ve heard Jeongin squeak, because he has to clear his throat before answering. “S-Sure, Chuu. Yeah, of course!” Jeongin says the last few words more confidently as Chuu giggles.

That’s when you rushed into the nearest bathroom moments after the door swings open. The shuffling of footsteps is heard again, until they stop once more, and then somebody knocks on the door.

“I know you’re there, Y/N,” Jeongin claims, and that’s your signal to open the door.

“Yeah, but that’s not what matters here!” Jeongin’s eyes are wide open as he lets out wheeze after wheeze. “I- No- We made her happy, Y/N! She really enjoyed these past couple of days! And, and! She gave me a hug, Y/N!! I don’t think I’ll ever get over this, seriously. I’m falling for her more and more.”

It’s the first time that you’ve seen Jeongin as giddy as this, in the several months you’ve known him. Is this what love does to people? Is it supposed to make their heart burst like what you’re seeing right now?

Because, if so, why don’t you feel like that for Seungmin anymore?

Note to self: Jeongin, out of all people, loves hugs.

Episode 8: And He’s Gone

Seungmin has been acting.. rather odd lately.

To be fair, the school festival had just ended, plus the student council election was about to occur, so you’d reckon he must be exhausted as vice president of the council. Perhaps he must be busy thinking of ways to campaign (not that he needs to, everybody agrees that he’s the best person to become the next president) or maybe he’s just getting a good rest.

But that’s not what Jeongin claims.

[Jeongin: he doesn’t want to run for president]

[You: really?!]

[Jeongin: yeah, but he won’t even tell me the reason]

[You: ahhh what do we do now T-T]

[You: on one hand we should respect his decision]

[You: but on the other, the school will crumble without him]

[Jeongin: idk y/n]

[Jeongin: i could try to explain to him why he should run or at least try to get his reasoning]

[You: yeah you should do that]

[Jeongin: cya]

You drop your phone down onto your chest, sighing heavily. Rolling over on your bed to face the window, you ponder as to why Seungmin would make such an impulsive decision like that. He was always so passionate about being a member of the student council, so why is he backing away from it now?

“Bad news: I wasn’t able to get any info from Seungmin,” Jeongin confesses as the two of you walk to school for another day. “Good news: I have a plan in case Seungmin truly doesn’t want to run for president!”

“It seems like all of your plans are either dumb, crazy, or both,” you retort back at him. “But shoot.”

“One of us runs for president!”

“Don’t shoot, nevermind.”

“No no no, you have to listen to me for this,” Jeongin attempts to persuade you. “Because after you hear my explanation, you’ll probably think it’s a good idea.”

You stay silent.

Jeongin continues though, “So, if one of us runs for president, and campaigns really bad, we’re talking ‘I’m going to give everybody six ounces of homework when I become president’ bad, then Seungmin would want to jump in to save the school!”

“Why don’t we make somebody else do it? Like- Chuu for example!” you insist, but Jeongin’s not having any of it.

“Chuu’s too popular, she might actually win. So it has to be one of us.”

“Then you do it because it’s your idea.”

“Nope.”

You sigh in defeat, “Rock paper scissors?” Jeongin nods, and gets his hands out. You’re quite confident that you’ll win, as you’re somehow incredibly good at rock papers scissors. Jeongin seems like the type of person to throw out scissors as a first move, and since this isn’t a best out of three game, you have to take your shot.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

Your rock is meant with his paper as Jeongin chuckles, covering your fist with his hand.

“Looks like you’re running for president!” Jeongin beams at you.

It’s now a week after your rock paper scissor match with Jeongin, the reason you’re even here in the first place. Next to you is a set of speakers, and in your hand is a megaphone. Taking a deep breath, and taking the time to glance at the boy behind you, you put the megaphone next to your mouth.

“Listen up you morons!” you shout at the confused crowd of students beneath your feet, trying to ignore the burning of your face. “I, Y/L/N Y/N, am running for president! So unless any of you cowards decide to run as well, I’ll be your new president! Get used to it!”

“Y/N’s running?”

“Out of all people?”

“Gosh, why isn’t Seungmin here when we need him?”

You continue on with your speech, going on and on about how you’re basically going to rip this school into shreds. You start to worry that you’ll be doing this until the school bell rings for first period, starting to question how much courage you have left to not collapse out of embarrassment, until he finally shows up.

“Excuse me! Sorry, I need to get through!”

“Why are you doing this, Y/N? And why are you helping them Jeongin?! This isn’t like you guys,” Seungmin demands with a worried expression on his face.

You and Jeongin look at each other, before you decide to answer. “We’re doing this because you weren’t running for president for some dumb reason. This school needs you, Seungmin!”

Seungmin’s mouth forms on “o” shape as he realizes your intentions, his eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

He chuckles, “You really are something, aren’t you Y/N?” Seungmin’s expression softens when he meets your eyes, showing gratitude. He gently takes the megaphone from your hands, and clears his throat.

“My name is Kim Seungmin, and I will be your next student council president!”

An uproar of cheers follow his announcement, and you let out a laugh of relief. Now you could bail out of the election, leaving Seungmin as the only person the school could vote for as president. It’s a win win situation.

Until the election ceremony rolls around.

All of the students are packed into the gymnasium, each class standing in rows. On the stage you could see the current student council members, along with Seungmin, and your heart races for him.

He’s called up to the front of the stage after being announced as the school’s new president, and a thunder of applause booms through the gym. Seungmin stands in front of the microphone.

“I’m Kim Seungmin, I’m your new president, and... and-”

“I am in love with our former president, Park Jihyo!”

He’s in love... with Jihyo?

Jeongin immediately turns to look at you, his mouth agape just like yours. The rest of the audience starts murmuring to each other in disbelief. Seungmin, out of all people, pulling a stunt like this?

Oddly enough though, you don’t feel the same heartburn that you felt the first time you were rejected. It’s almost as if... you’re okay with this.

“You’re the reason why I’m standing here today; because you gave me a purpose at this school! And I know that you’re leaving to study abroad right after I take your role of president, so that’s why I’m shooting my shot today!” Seungmin explains loudly to the microphone, right in front of Jihyo, who’s standing there with an unamused look on her face. “Do I have any chance to be with you? Any chance whatsoever?!”

By the end of his speech, Seungmin is out of breath from shouting so much, and Jihyo seems to be stunned. She quickly shakes her head to clear out her mind, though, and takes the nearest microphone into her hands.

“And here, ladies and gentlemen, is your new student body president,” Jihyo calmly announces to everybody, not even acknowledging Seungmin’s confession at first.

“I taught him how to be a good leader, and that’s how he ended up on this stage today. I have absolutely no doubt that Seungmin will do an incredible job as body president. I care for him quite deeply, and I hope you will help him succeed at his duties of being president.”

“Please look after my good friend, Kim Seungmin, while I’m gone. Thank you.”

Rejection: unrequited love, but confirmed. To some, it may feel like a glass filled to the brim with water suddenly shattering onto the floor. To others, it’s a gentle, yet brutal, falling of a feather, easing its way to the ground.

While Jeongin thinks that two hearts were broken in that gymnasium, only one truly was.

And it wasn’t yours.

“So you’re saying you’re over Seungmin at this point?” Jeongin’s voice goes higher in pitch when he asks you. “Did I shoot my cupid’s arrow at the wrong person or something?”

You walk in silence for a few moments, letting the both of you ponder for a bit. How do you answer that question without obviously revealing who you truly like?

“Yah,” you ultimately avoid the question. “You never paid me back for that peach drink I bought for you.

Episode 9: Shot an Arrow at Each Other

[Chuu: i think i like him]

[You: who?]

[Chuu: jeongin]

You suck in an unexpected breath, and it’s almost as if your heart stops. Valentines Day is tomorrow, so it’s no wonder that Chuu’s coming to you for love advice. When you don’t reply, Chuu keeps sending texts.

[Chuu: i think i might confess to him on valentines]

[Chuu: and i have suspicion that he’s the one who’s been sending me love letters, but im not too sure]

You gulp, turning over onto your side and tucking yourself further into the sheets of your bed.

[You: then go for it!]

[Chuu: i would but]

[Chuu: i feel like somebody else would be happier with him]

[You: care to elaborate?]

[Chuu: i know there’s somebody else out there who could treat him better than me]

Does Chuu know? Are you that obvious?

[Chuu: y/n]

[Chuu: you have a special connection with jeongin]

[Chuu: you like him, don’t you? ^_^]

That damn emojicon. You could imagine that if this conversation were to happen in person, she would smile at your real big before dropping the bomb.

And you wouldn’t know how to respond. Because she’s right.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Jeongin wasn’t supposed to be nice to you. Jeongin wasn’t supposed to save you from drowning. Jeongin wasn’t supposed to encourage you to confess to Seungmin when you still liked him, and he wasn’t supposed to buy you ice cream

But at the same time, you weren’t supposed to buy him a drink. You weren’t supposed to clean his apartment. You weren’t supposed to cook him meals willingly. You weren’t supposed to help him that much during summer break.

The two of you were supposed to just be each other’s cupid, but because you weren’t, you’ve fallen for him.

[You: but jeongin likes you]

No, you refuse. You refuse to let your emotions get in the way of Jeongin’s and Chuu’s happy ending. You refuse to let your emotions get in the way of what you and Jeongin have been striving for this entire school year. You’re better than that, stronger than that.

But why does it hurt so much?

The next day, Valentines Day, comes faster than you would’ve liked. Normally, this would be your favorite day of the year, because you liked seeing other people happy despite you being alone yourself. The outcasting you’ve put up with for the majority of your school life doesn’t bother you on this day surprisingly, as it’s always fun to see Chuu’s desk swamped with candies and anonymous letters.

It’s fun watching other people be happy.

This year, however, you’re left with a stain in your heart that you’re constantly reminded of throughout the day. Jeongin raves on about how he’s thinking about confessing to Chuu, yet you don’t have the heart or the energy to tell him that Chuu is thinking of the same thing. Then again, it’s better not to get in the way of love, right?

Chuu hasn’t spoken to you much ever since she read your final message to her last night. You don’t blame her, really, but she should do what’s best for her, not what’s best for you.

And Seungmin, to your utter shock, has been pretty chill this Valentines Day, not making a fuss over being rejected by Jihyo. Jihyo has already been abroad for several months at this point, so it’s given time for Seungmin to heal.

You make it through the day without too much distracting you, other than those thoughts buzzing in your head. The bell rings, signaling the end of the draining school day, but Chuu grabs onto your wrist and drags you into an empty classroom.

Your stomach starts churning once more when you see Jeongin and Seungmin in the room. Flinching when Chuu slams the door close a little too hard, you watch as she walks to the center of the room.

“Seungmin, you’re only here if I need backup, okay?” Chuu eases down Seungmin’s nerves, to which he responds with a nod.

“So,” Chuu takes a deep breath. “Don’t you have something to say to me, Y/N and Jeongin?”

You’re caught off guard by the sudden question. “What- What do you mean?”

Chuu only laughs, “You and Jeongin teamed up to make sure I fall in love with Jeongin this year, right?”

You and Jeongin freeze.

“And also, you tried to make Seungmin fall in love with Y/N, yes? But it didn’t work out, which brings us here,” Chuu crosses her arms over her chest. “You know, you almost did make me fall in love with Jeongin. Remember our conversation yesterday, Y/N? About how I was gonna confess to Jeongin?”

You don’t bother to move a muscle, but Jeongin, across the room from you, looks stunned.

“Well, I never bothered with that plan anymore. I realized that I only merely had a crush on Jeongin, and crushes never go that far. So with that being said-”

“Why are you... ruining everything now?” you take the chance to ask Chuu, but your question comes out in a more timid tone than you had anticipated.

“Ruining everything, you say?” Chuu scoffs. “That’s not what I’m doing here! I’m making sure everybody gets the ending they’re happy with.”

“But this isn’t how it was supposed to go!” you finally yell at the top of your lungs. “Jeongin liked you, and now you like Jeongin. The two of you already have a happy ending, why do you need to push this further?”

“Because you like Jeongin, that’s why!”

You shut your mouth before you could utter another word, panic spreading all over your body. Not even making the effort to look at Jeongin’s current expression, you raise your head up to look at Seungmin, who looks like he could offer you no help whatsoever.

It’s all falling apart.

“Y/N-” Jeongin attempts to speak, but you cut him off without realizing.

“I.. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“You’re running away, Y/N,” Chuu states, which makes you grit your teeth.

“Wait, Y/N, just listen to me-”

“Please, not now-”

“Y/N!”

Once Jeongin shouts your name, Chuu accidentally releases her grip on your wrist, and you flee the classroom, sprinting as fast as you could in your school shoes. Chuu stares at Jeongin once you swiftly exit the classroom, to which Jeongin responds by running after you, Chuu following behind right after after thanking Seungmin for being there.

“You can’t force love! You can’t make two people fall in love with each other!” Chuu tries to tell you while running through the hallways. “Love happens naturally. I might love Jeongin, but Jeongin only had a crush on me, that’s not the same!”

“So I’m willing to put aside my feelings to help two people who truly, genuinely, love each other without any doubt in their hearts! Can’t you see? Jeongin loves you, not me. And you love Jeongin, not anybody else.”

And then Jeongin snaps.

“SHE’S RIGHT!” Jeongin booms. “Y/L/N Y/N, you’re the one I love! I love y-”

But you’re already gone from their sight. The school entrance has no people around, not even a silhouette of you running in the distance. The two catching their breaths at the entrance of your high school, their shoulders slump over in defeat.

Of course, it doesn’t end there.

Hours after the incident, hours after crying over the mixed emotions you experienced this Valentines Day, your doorbell is rung. You hesitate on whether you should even answer the door in the first place, sifting through the possible scenarios in your head. Your feet answers first, though, making your way to the door before your brain could even stop your motions.

It’s a letter, and you know that handwriting.

“come upstairs!”

And despite how reluctant you are, you still head to his apartment.

Jeongin greets you at the door, still wearing his school uniform just like you. In his hand is a rubber spatula, which is somewhat odd because you’ve never seen him hold kitchen utensils unless you were teaching him how to cook.

But there’s the aroma of food coming from the kitchen, one of various vegetables, and even the smell of meat. When you turn the corner, you infer that Jeongin was attempting to cook one of your one pot pasta meals, and it seemed to be almost done.

“Honestly,” Jeongin quickly goes back to tending to his cooking. “I wasn’t even sure if you were going to come, and that would be bad because this is two servings of pasta. But I knew you wouldn’t left me hanging.”

You hum, taking a seat at the dining table that was sparkling clean (something Jeongin kept up with even after you cleaned his apartment). Jeongin brings over two plates of pasta, steam still coming off of them.

“Try it! It’s your recipe, so unless I messed up something, it should be good,” Jeongin dives in with a fork, slurping up the noodles eagerly as you do the same.

“It’s good, really good, actually,” you compliment him. “But why did you invite me over here?”

“Well,” Jeongin says with food still in his mouth, but he swallows shortly after. “This is a date.”

You almost choke on your food at the word “date” coming out of his mouth. “But what about Chuu-”

“Didn’t you hear Chuu while we were running earlier? She’s content at the fact that we’re about to become a couple. She told me that she rarely ever saw you as bright and as happy before you met me, that’s a good sign, right?” Jeongin smiles at you, and it’s that smile again.

“A good sign that...?”

“You love me too.”

You pause your movements for a full three second, before you laugh tiredly. The realization hits you while you twirl your pasta with your fork. “This is weird.”

“What is?”

“That we tried to be each other’s cupid, but ended up falling for each other instead.”

Your analogy makes Jeongin burst into laughter, nodding his head excessively. “Yeah, you’re right.”

The two of you eat Jeongin’s food in a comfortable silence for a few moments, before Jeongin speaks up again.

“Does that mean that I shot an arrow at myself then?!” Jeongin gawks at you comedically, almost making you choke on his food.

“Perhaps,” you simply shrug, leaving your, what you assume you could finally call your boyfriend, up to speculate for himself.

The cupid game was finally over, after many, many months of pinning.

And it ended with a pair of cupids, in love with each other.

it’s promo time baby!

follow my networks @fluffyskzclub and @/angstyskzclub, our members provide you with sfw fluff & angst content for you to read!

i’m starting an official taglist for my fics! there’s one for oneshots like these, and one for my stray kids ot8 reactions & scenarios! (not gonna bother with one for my blurbs, don’t waste your time on a 2 minute read fic LOL) just let me know through my inbox as to which one(s) you’d like the join.

thank you so incredibly much for reading “a pair of cupids!” this story was physically and mentally draining. i wrote the first 3 sections last week, took a 3 day break because my family visited another state, and then wrote these last 6 sections in a span of... 5 days? it was NOT FUN my back is killing me oh my gosh have mercy on me if you think this was bad

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upcloseandchaotic · 4 years ago

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Girls’ Night

This idea has been bouncing in my head for a while mostly as a distraction from doing my other WIPs. It was also originally supposed to be short.... I don’t know what happened 🤷🏼‍♀️

Summary: After helping Bucky with a rough round of nightmares, you decide that you need to have a Girls’ Night with your friends.

One Shot; 2,478 words

Disclaimer: Bucky, Natasha, and Wanda are not my characters.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanova, Wanda Maximoff, Female!Reader

Relationships: Bucky x Female!Reader

In the sunlight his hair was a soft chestnut color, but now as you ran your hand through it and wrapped the silky locks between your fingers, the night seemed to darkened it to where someone could mistake it for black, almost as dark as the night sky. You hummed to yourself, imagining what his hair would look like filled with falling stars and circling planets, but then quietened down as you heard his voice start rumbling in his chest, a pained groan building in his throat.

Soon Russian words started falling sharply from his lips. His arms and legs started twitching, his brow furrowing. You quickly grabbed your phone from the side table, pressing the button to open your notes app and started writing down everything that seemed important, like names or locations. It looked as if his nightmare from a couple of hours before was coming back, but this time his dream went more in depth. You were able to pull some ideas of where this “vault” was located, names of people, random words that you think were once used to help program him. It hurt for you to watch him twisting and turning, crying out in pain, it left you feeling helpless even though you knew from experience that waking him up would just make it worse.

The longer it continued you felt a rage start simmering down in the pit of your stomach. It burned as if a coal had finally caught a flicker of a flame and grew until your hands were shaking and you were silently fighting with yourself to stay there with him and not go find the people responsible for his pain.

Once his murmurs turned into more like whimpers and his twitching started to slow, you started whispering sweet nothings into his ear and gently combing his hair back from his sweating face. Slowly, without waking up from his dream, he started to relax back into the bed and eventually you can hear light snores signalling that he has fallen back into a dreamless sleep. Before you slide back into your spot beside him you grab your phone and send a message to Wanda and Natasha. Girls’ Night soon?

Wanda was probably still asleep, seeing as it was around five in the morning, but you weren’t surprised to see three dots flashing. Natasha seemed to have an uncanny sense of when Bucky was having nightmares and always seemed to be awake.

Yes! I’ll bring the nail polish! 💅

You smiled and sent back a gif before turning your phone off and threw it back onto the nightstand. Reaching out to Bucky, you smiled as he unconsciously moved to accommodate you; his arm wrapped around your shoulders and when you tucked yourself into his right shoulder he turned, curling up around you and throwing his metal arm around your waist. You could feel the warm huffs against the top of your head and his usual scent of spice, leather and gunmetal surrounded you. With the sound of his heartbeat in your ear and the warmth of his body seeping into you you close your eyes and drift off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

You were standing in the kitchen putting together a cheese and cracker plate when you felt two hands circling around from behind you, one warm and soft and the other cool and hard. They wandered under his shirt you were wearing and started creeping upwards slowly with gentle caresses.

Smiling softly, you put the crackers and cheese down to place your hands over his, halting his movement and . “What are you doing, Buck?”

Bucky’s chin dropped onto your shoulder and he whispered into your ear. “Do I really have to go, doll? You know I don’t care about what you all talk about. I’ll even let you and the girls paint my nails.”

You sighed and twisted around so you could stare into his aquamarine-colored eyes, which were trying to pretend to be charming but actually belied his nerves. He always required some more physical reassurance after having a bad bout of nightmares, and as much as you wanted to allow him to stay so you could comfort him you knew that this Girls’ Night was necessary and that he couldn’t be here. To ease some of his discomfort, though, you pulled him towards you and reached up to cup one cheek. He sighed and leaned into it and you watched as some of the tension in his jaw relaxed.

“Baby, I wish you could. If it was any other night it would be fine, but tonight it really has to be just us girls.” Bucky gave a dejected huff and closed his eyes, leaning a little bit more into your hand, “But I will take up your offer to paint your nails. I have a really pretty blue color that would match your eyes.”

When he opened his eyes again you could see a glint of mischievousness flash briefly and before you could blink he had a grip on your thighs and had you up in the air. You squeaked and quickly wrapped your legs around his waist. He laughed and sat you on the counter next to your half-done cheese and cracker plate. You gave him a mock glare and lightly smacked his chest.

“Don’t be like that, Doll,” Bucky crooned. He stepped forwards so that he was standing between your legs, pressed up against you. Leaning forwards, he hovered his lips so that they were a hairsbreadth apart from yours. You got a clear whiff of his favorite cologne and the mint toothpaste he used. “I was just havin’ a bit of fun. We both know how much you like it when I pick you up like the babydoll you are.”

“That’s true, but the girls are going to be here any moment and I still have a lot of stuff to finish getting ready. Also don’t you have to meet Steve and Sam in about 20 minutes anyways? You still have a 15 minute drive, Buck.”

He hummed, pulling your wrist off of his face to read the time on your watch. When he saw that he was going to run late he grumbled but backed off, allowing you to hop down from the counter but close enough that he could keep his hands on your arms in case you lost your balance.

You hurriedly finished up making the plate of appetizers while Bucky begrudgingly went and collected his wallet and keys and then you both met up at the doorway.

“Have fun with Steve and Sam, baby. Call me if you need me,” You say, leaning up to give him a chaste kiss. Before you could step back, though, he snuck a hand into your hair, keeping you close as he proceeded to deepen the kiss. After a few minutes though someone knocked loudly on the door, startling both of you into separating. When you and Bucky gathered enough braincells to answer the door, Natasha and Wanda were standing there, smirking and giggling at the dazed look on both of your faces.

“Come on, Barnes, it’s our turn with Y/N. You can have her later tonight,” Natasha joked, pushing past you and Bucky to place the wine bottles she brought with her on the living room table. Wanda snuck past too, dropping her bag onto the couch before starting to search for wine glasses in the kitchen.

Bucky chuckled, ignoring the two girls as he dropped another kiss onto your lips. “Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. Bye, babydoll, I’m countin’ down the seconds until I come back to you.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled as you heard a mixed chorus of fake gagging and awe-ing behind you. “Go on, Buck, I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t use all of the nail polish, ladies! I look forward to my manicure when I get home!” he shouted as he walked away, smiling brightly as you laughed. You stayed there, leaning against the doorway to watch him until he disappeared on the stairs.

“Hate to see him leave?” Wanda asked as you closed the door and stepped back into the apartment.

“But love to watch him go,” You sighed dreamily. Natasha groaned and threw a pillow at you, causing you and Wanda to break out into laughter.

“Okay, okay! Truce!” You cried, throwing your hands up.

“Fine,” Natasha conceded, “You live to see another day, Y/N… Now, what information did you find the other night?”

As Wanda opened the bottle of wine and set it to the side to let it breathe, you pulled up your notes and explained what Bucky had said during his latest nightmare as well as what you had been able to find from an initial search. Natasha stayed quiet during your explanation, responding with nothing but the occasional nod, and Wanda pulled her laptop out of her bag, starting it up and opening the files you all had compiled and sent them.

At the end of your report Natasha poured the wine into the glasses and took a quick sip. “This place sounds familiar to me, but I’m not 100% sure I have been there. I think maybe they used it as a threat in the Red Room? What were the names he mentioned again?”

When you repeated them, Wanda chimed in with “I think I’ve heard about that place, it’s in Siberia. Pietro and I were almost sent there a couple of times, they told us it was their top training facility.”

“Could you point it out on a map, Wanda?” You asked, quickly pulling up a map of Serbia on your phone.

“I think I could…here let me see.”

Wanda looked over the map and you bit your lip, twisting the wine glass between your fingers, anxious to see if you guys would have a break through.

“Here,” she said, pointing at a spot in the Balkan Mountains, “It’s closer to Serbia and it’s hidden deep inside one of the mountains.”

“I’ll try and see if I can pull some layout plans from the upload you did, Nat,” You said, reaching for Wanda’s laptop. As you did your deep diving into the files, Natasha and Wanda made a quick order for food from the Italian place around the corner.

Right after the food came in and Wanda had refilled all of the glasses, you gave a short cry of triumph and flipped the computer around to show them the layout of the Hydra base, as well as the information needed to get in. The three of you smirked while raising your glasses in a toast, celebrating that for once you were able to get all of the information needed..

The rest of the night was spent making a plan of attack and then double and triple-checking to make sure everything would go as planned.

You slipped into your apartment silently, placing your heels next to the door and padding softly down the hallway. The whole apartment was dark except for the lights of the busy New York street shining through the window. Using the little bit of light and muscle memory you managed to weave around the furniture, setting your jacket and purse gently on the living room table on your way to your room.

You could see Bucky, sprawled on his side of the bed, body facing the door as if he had tried staying up so he could make sure you got in all right. You sighed, letting your body sag against the door frame briefly even though you winced as your sore muscles ached, a reminder of what you had gotten up to tonight. Even though, originally, it was supposed to be just Wanda and Nat infiltrating the base, you had had to go in to hack some computers. It was just bad luck that those computers were guarded by some giant, beefed up Hydra goon who seemed to be immune to effects of a fucking taser. Needless to say, it was extra satisfying when he did eventually succumb to Natasha’s famous thigh chokehold.

Bucky was snoring lightly, but it seemed as if his sleep would be undisturbed tonight, almost as if his body sensed that one more nightmare was no more. You stepped forwards and cursed loudly as you tripped over his combat boots and went sprawling across the floor. As Bucky startled awake and flipped on the light, you sat there hissing and briefly wondered how satisfying it would be to just throw them in the trash right in the moment.

“Babydoll?” he asked, his voice rough and low as if he were still half asleep, “Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” you huffed, wincing as you climbed back up,, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep, Buck.”

“Don’t worry about it, I was waiting on you anyways.” Bucky pushed himself up the bed and sat back to watch as you started to gather all of your supplies to get ready for bed. “How was your Girls’ Night? Did you get some free drinks tonight?”

“You know it,” you shot back, winking over your shoulder. You heard his breath hitch as you drew your dress up and off, revealing your black lace thong and push up bra. You turned around and before he could say something you know would lead to both of you not getting any sleep that night, you pointed a finger at him and said, “Not a word, buster.”

Bucky raised his hands in the air with an innocent expression on his face that was quickly overtaken by a charming smile, “I wasn’t goin’ to say nothin’, doll….but now that you mention it, that set does looks stunning on you.”

“Ah ah!,” You cried, wagging your finger once more, “It is 2 AM, James Buchanan Barnes, and we are both exhausted. We’re getting some sleep before anything else, ya hear?” Bucky laughed but agreed, sinking further into the bed the closer you got to finishing your nightly routine. By the time you were climbing into bed yourself his eyes his body had sunk into the bed and his eyes were slowly blinking. Once you were comfortably resting on your side facing him he tucked an arm across your waist and pressed his hand between your shoulder blades, pulling you closer to his body until you both were unable to figure out where one started and the other ended.

“I’m glad you had a fun night with the girls, babydoll,” Bucky whispered into your hair groggily.

“Thanks, baby,” You whispered, smiling as you heard the soft huffs of his breath above your head. You kissed the shoulder closest to you and sighed as you sank into the warmth of his body, the bed, and the knowledge that Bucky was now safe from one more nightmare.

tags: @babiiface95

Dividers by: @whimsicalrogers

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you

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timextoxhajima · 4 years ago

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Love Me A Little Less: Chapter 4 - The Guest

LOVE ME A LITTLE LESS CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Member: (3rd person pov) arranged marriage au with Lee Juyeon

Genre: angsty wangsty

Taglist: @sunwoowuvbot @hyunjaethereal

“Get the guest out of my fucking office.”

Jang Won grimly knocks on the door, looking down to ensure Younghoon was carrying more than a fruit basket - a briefcase, worth half a million in cash, in case she needed to bribe a certain someone. Her eyes befall the apple sitting in the fruit basket, and she peels apart the wrapper to remove the bruised item, mindlessly hurling it into the trash can right by the lift.

The door clicks open, the sound of the door chain reminding her that she needs to handle this one with care and caution.

“What are you doing here?”

“Hi Mrs Nam, I’m Kim Jang Won and this is--”

“I know who you are. I’m asking what you’re here for.”

“Straight to the point I see,” Jang Won cocks a brow. “Look, we don’t want to make things difficult for you, but we’d just like to find out if you happened to know anything about the body swap regarding your husband.”

Mrs Nam’s breathing gets stuck in her throat. She swallows, eyes flitting back and forth between Jang Won and Younghoon.

“I know nothing. After he died, I visit him every month. I didn’t even know his body was moved until the news.”

Jang Won feels like she’s being strangled, all her nerves shutting down one by one like a tidal surge through her. But Younghoon tugs on the end of her blazer, out of sight, and shifts to talk to Mrs Nam instead.

“Do you mind if we come in and have a chat about it? We’d just like to know more about Mr Nam so we can figure out who did it. Don’t you at least want to know who shifted your husband’s body?”

A hint of curiosity and anger flickers in her eyes despite the slight hesitation. Mrs Nam subtly nods, head looking down but gaze still stuck to Younghoon as she gently closes the door.

“You don’t have to be in there if you don’t want to,” He murmurs, loud enough for her to hear while watching her in the corner of his eyes.

Jang Won sniffles, finger rubbing the tip of her nose as she composes herself. The jingle of the chain being removed sounds through the door.

“I’ll be in there because I want to, not because I can.”

The door clicks open, and Mrs Nam keeps it wide for Jang Won and Younghoon to enter. The apartment is rather neat and simple - a couple of single sofa seats around a circular table and a standing television. Pictures on the shelves framing the television.

Drawn to the pictures first, Jang Won wanders to the photographs.

A son, older than Younghoon, stands in most of the pictures. A degree in culinary sciences. A picture shot in Paris. Multiple pictures in Europe. A family portrait of him and his wife, Caucasian.

Younghoon sits opposite Mrs Nam, who looks more tired and drained than anything else, like the anger from before has completely dissipated.

He glances through the pictures, aware that something must’ve caught his sister’s attention because Jang Won wasn’t being very focused now. “We just wanted to know more about him. He might’ve worked at Artemis and I’ve yet to check with his ex-colleagues but I just wanted to know if he was happy there, or if he wasn’t, did he have any... enemies?”

Mrs Nam takes in a deep breath, rubbing an eye before her hands come together on her lap. “No, he was happy, as far as I knew. The only thing he was upset about was my son moving to France and settling there. But otherwise, he was easy-going. Kind. Helpful. I can’t think of anybody who would want to deliberately shift his... body... because he had offended them.”

“I hate to be the one to suggest this but could your father have done anything to anger your son... to the point where--”

“No,” She says with such resolution, it finally tears Jang Won’s attention off the photos. “Never. Their love might’ve been tough but they’ll never do anything to hurt each other.”

Younghoon glances at his sister before returning to Mrs Nam. “So... nobody, huh?”

“None that I can think of.”

Jang Won blinks her emotions away, fingers fiddling with her rings as she looks to Younghoon. His eyes sink to the floor, licking his lips in slight anxiety as he realises they’ve hit a dead end.

They leave the apartment with only the briefcase, and Mrs Nam closes the door before they can even walk off. The lift ride was exceptionally quiet, Younghoon merely watching Jang Won zip in and out of reality in the reflection of the lift mirrors.

He looks over, watching the layer of tears thicken over her eyes. Reaching out and rubbing her shoulder, he contains the emotions he’s feeling, just by watching his cold-hearted sister reveal the hint of humanity in her.

“I told you not to go in if you couldn’t.”

“And I could,” Jang Won clears her throat. “I don’t need you to baby me. It’s been a long time anyway. I’ll deal with it.”

The lift door dings open, and sees Jang Won walking out the doors, leaving Younghoon behind as she struts off.

Unfortunately, this soft side of Jang Won remains short-lived, for Younghoon finds himself holding her back from tearing the skin off their father’s face when they reach home.

“What the Hell is this?” Jang Won frowns, facial lines deepening in her skin when the staff is crowded in her office but none of them were moving. Her father, standing by her desk, looks up from the loaded query.

“Ah, child! I was just waiting to--”

“Are you... moving into my office?”

Her father opens his mouth, lips wide enough for her to see her teeth when Mr Ro finally joins the party.

“What is going on here?”

“Sir,” One of the housemaids lowers her head, almost like she was embarrassed. “Our guest-- Mr Kim... asked for us to help shift Miss Kim’s belongings out of her office. We were told not to tell you.”

Jang Won’s eyes almost double in size when she processes the words, the tips of her feet already turning to her father. Mr Ro looks up from his subordinate with distaste and disapproval, unable to believe the things he was trying to accomplish.

“Just which part of June did you not fucking understand? Huh?” Jang Won takes one step forward, but Younghoon grabs her wrist and then wraps his palms around her upper arms. “Playing possum killed your braincells too?”

“No...! No! I wanted things to be early, smooth. So that you wouldn’t be pressured to shift out in June--”

“Bold of you to assume you’ll get it in June!” She hisses, harshly ripping herself out from Younghoon’s grip. “From now on you are a guest and a guest only. This is my house and you will touch nothing that does not belong to you.”

“Aw, come on, daughter--”

“Don’t--” She seethes, finger almost at his nose now. “Call me that. From now on, we just share the same surname... But if you want mercy on the account that I am something you created, then I’d rather you wait until I die.”

The staff in the room lower their head as she storms by them toward the door, and as dramatic as she is, she pulls the doors open and smiles widely at her staff. “A kind, kind reminder that all these people standing before you, Mr Kim Jo-Pil... they work for me. They answer to Mr Ro, and Mr Ro answers to me. So, shall you require any assistance in possibly fucking something else up... do get it to me through Mr Ro.”

She smiles sweetly, tilting her head to the side. “Now, get the guest out of my fucking office.”

The wind brushes through Juyeon’s hair relentlessly, his dark blue, almost black, locks ruffled and made messy in the wind. The yacht makes small jumps against the water, the sun reflected off the surface of the water and into his eyes, the motion of the vehicle spraying some of it onto his hands that were over the railing.

“Are you sure you want to get yourself involved in this... Jang Won and The Board, I mean,” Sunwoo joins Juyeon by the cockpit, grabbing a bottle of Sprite and cracking the cap open. He takes a sip and smacks his lips, letting the wind do its job in his hair too. “I mean, I know it wasn’t your choice but... that stunt at the press conference last week? Damn, son.”

Juyeon smirks and scoffs, looking at Sunwoo through the lens of his sunglasses. “Maybe it was fueled by her, I don’t know... But I’d be lying if I said being at the same table with her doesn’t make me feel powerful. It feels like I could do anything I wanted as long as she was by my side and it’d... it’ll work, you know?”

“‘It’ll work’?” Sunwoo chuckles sarcastically. “You’re talking about the most powerful figure of The Board of your generation. Hell, it’s Hera’s Princess you’re dealing with here. I’m sure if you played by her rules a hundred percent, she’d buy you an island if you wanted.”

The continuous splash of the water just a few metres down the railing brings some kind of peace to Juyeon, despite the idea of being married to Kim Jang Won being tasteless.

“What about her brother? The Prince of Artemis, right? Kim Younghoon. He must’ve had something to say about Apple-Korea’s next director smooching his little sister on national TV,” Sunwoo snorts, taking another gulp of his drink.

Juyeon shakes his head, apart from providing Sunwoo a patient smile. “I haven’t met her brother, actually. But word has it he’s the calmer of the two, which I’m actually pretty grateful for.”

“Maybe you should get acquainted with him. Get on Kim Jang Won’s good side by making friends with Kim Younghoon,” Sunwoo places the bottle back into the ice box, noticing the yacht slowing down to a halt. Juyeon peels himself off the railings, finally standing and giving his own limbs a big stretch.

“Nah,” Juyeon shakes his head and pulls off his sunglasses, squinting away from the harsh sunlight. “The thing about Jang Won is that you shouldn’t indirectly find ways to get on her good side... you gotta do it in her face. That’s how she plays her games. Straightforward. Ruthless.”

“So like... borderline crazy and a control freak too, right?”

Juyeon snickers, pulling off his shirt to reveal the diving suit he’s got underneath. “Pretty sure if your dad came back from the dead and took over your life’s work, you would too.”

Sunwoo smirks, stripping the pieces of clothes off himself too. “Defending the missus already, I see.”

Rolling his eyes and pulling on an oxygen tank with a mask, Juyeon then glares at the younger. “Well, if she’s offering me all the cents I can count, I might as well work it to my best effort, right?”

He cocks a smug brow, giving his goggles one last adjustment before heading to the edge of the yacht. The hues of blue calm his nerves, already able to see the world of life beneath the surface. It has always been his paradise, and always will be.

“Today, we celebrate the love between two of The Board’s most powerful figures: Lee Juyeon, the next director of Apple-Korea, and The Board’s very own Hera’s Princess, Kim Jang Won. Just a last month, the return of Kim Jo-Pil shocked the country...”

Jang Won dips her finger into the glass of lemon-infused water, contorting the image of the television beyond the table and the space of the room. Still in her pajamas, she cannot find the motivation and strength to leave her bed. She can already hear the crowd bustling downstairs, getting ready for her hair, makeup, fittings--

Knock knock

“Oh, Mr Ro,” She covers her eyes, tired. The door clicks open and she groans to herself, refusing to open her eyes. “Please just kill me. I hate it. I hate all of this. Why did he have to climb out of his own grave?”

“I don’t know. His body was swapped, wasn’t it?”

The voice jolts Jang Won out of her laziness, and she sits up like she had been summoned from the dead too.

“When did you get here?”

Juyeon smiles, somewhat genuine, and leans against the door frame. He was already in a simple button up shirt, meant to be hidden under a gorgeous, white and silver blazer. His hair’s still wet though, his fringe covering his eyebrows and some portion of his eyes.

Jang Won can’t help but soften at the sight of him half a foot into his room - if only Lee Juyeon knew how much her friends back in high school swooned over him.

“Also, I don’t think killing you would be a great idea. Wouldn’t want to see you climb out of your own grave too. Family traits seem to run in the blood of the Kims.”

Jang Won rolls her eyes and crawls her way out of the bed that’s too big for her, feet finding her fluffy, cotton slippers by the bed and shuffling about the bedroom with her hair in a mess.

“Not very good at answering questions, are you?” She sniffles, not bothering to close the bathroom door behind her as she ties her hair gracefully, pulling a hair towel over her head to keep her fringe out of her face. She hears the door click, and Juyeon appears behind her in the reflection of the mirror.

The scent of mint from the toothpaste wafts through her nose.

“Well,” He shrugs and leans against the doorframe again, brushing his fringe out of his eyes. “I answered yours.”

Jang Won chokes on the toothpaste foam, gripping the edges of the sink as she retches into the marble. “Your butler... Mr Ro, called me over. Offered to cover my fitting and everything for today. He said it’s on the house, or rather, yours, I suppose.”

Jang Won finishes up on her brushing, spitting out the leftover foam. “Still didn’t answer my question, y’know.”

Juyeon removes himself off the doorframe, watching her struggle by throwing her hair behind her shoulder. Some locks keep sliding back down around her neck, and her hands are already lathering some facial wash. She tuts in frustration, unable to get her hair out of the way.

Then Juyeon gently gathers her hair behind her neck, his warm fingers barely brushing against her skin. “Morning. Just about two hours ago,” He waits for Jang Won to squint at him, before she provides enough trust to shut her eyes and rub the lotion into her cheeks.

“Mr Ro wanted to come wake you up, but something seemed to crop up with the tea and cake catering, so.”

“What? What’s wrong with the tea and cake catering? I paid good money for that bullshit,” She looks up from the sink, face smeared in some greenish-blue cream.

He grins, chuckling under his breath as she glares at him in the mirror. “Paying good money for ‘bullshit’, huh? How much did the ‘bullshit’ cost then?”

“Well,” She hesitates and frowns, creating lines in the lotion on her face. “Enough to piss me off if they don’t give me what I want.”

Leaning towards the sink, she runs her hands under the water and washes the lotion off her face.

“What company is the catering from? Need my help?”

She scoffs, waving his hand off her hair, grabbing a cotton towel and pressing it to her face. “To what? What are you gonna do? ‘Hey there, I’m the next director of Apple-Korea and I’d like my tarts and cupcakes this afternoon’.”

He leans his rear into the edge of the platform where the sink was built into, back facing the mirror while she carefully hangs the towel over the metal bar mounted into the beige marble wall. “What else would you want me to say, since that’s just exactly what I want?”

“I’on’t know, buy the company or something.”

He raises both brows in extreme shock, his lips pouting in disbelief that he should’ve been prepared for anyway. “What a solution.”

“Got a better idea?” She rolls her eyes, pulling a robe into the shower cubicle. “Also, are you going to stand there and watch me strip?”

Juyeon’s eyes flit off her instantly, hands pushing himself off the edge of the sink. “Could’ve just asked me to leave instead of being so crude.”

“Well now, I didn’t ask you to leave, I asked--”

“I know- I know what you asked-” Juyeon grimaces, blowing some air into the pockets between his teeth and lips. He sucks in a deep breath and exhales loudly through an ‘o’, giving Jang Won some kind of sadistic pleasure. “Do you ever get tired of that? Messing with people?”

Jang Won’s brown orbs rise to the ceiling, actually giving thought to the question. Her lower lip juts out as she shrugs. “Well... yeah. Yeah,” She finally nods. “But hey! I have different degrees of messing-with-people. There’s the I-kinda-wanna-mess-with-you-by-making-you-awkward kind and there’s the I-might-wanna-rebury-my-dad kind-”

“Alright, you have a nice bath.”

Snorting, Juyeon waves her nonsense off and walks out the bathroom, sliding the door shut.

#juyeon #lee juyeon #juyeon fanfic #the boyz juyeon #juyeon scenario #the boyz #the boyz scenario #TBZ #tbz juyeon #tbz fanfic #love me a little less

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fantastic-bby · 4 years ago

Text

GOT7 vs. jealousy

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: -

Requested: Yep

Masterlist

Jaebeom

Honestly I feel like Jaebeom would try to hide if he was jealous. He seems like the kind of person who would try and make excuses in his mind to distract himself from actually thinking about his jealousy. But, Jaebeom also seems like the kind of person who would make it obvious when he can’t control it anymore. There’s a limit that he would have to hit before he actually does something about it, and when he does it’s very handsy and touchy with you to make everyone know that you’re taken.

He would notice from across the room that you were talking with a particular person that was being too nice with you. The way you giggled lightly and tucked your hair behind your ear just makes him feel a little irritated. Jaebeom would have to excuse himself from whoever he’s talking to so that he could make his way over to you.

He would snake his arm around your waist and press a kiss to your temple to grab your attention. “I think it’s time we head home,” he would suggest softly while glaring daggers at the man you were talking to.

Mark

Mark also strikes me as the type who wouldn’t want to make it obvious that he’s jealous. Of course, if he saw you talking to someone he didn’t trust or someone who was being a bit too friendly, he wouldn’t exactly do nothing either. He would be more subtle than Jaebeom would be but that’s if he’s able to control himself. We’re all aware of the whole laptop incident and the air con incident, but honestly I don’t think Mark is a violent person. Maybe he has some issues with handling his anger, but I don’t think he would take it too far.

When Mark sees you talking to someone he doesn’t like, he would get a bit pissed. He would probably wonder why you wouldn’t want to talk to someone who’s more likeable. Silently, Mark would sneak away from his own conversation to make his way over to you. On the outside, he would stay on the more nonchalant side, but he would still make it obvious to you that he doesn’t like the situation.

He would hold onto your hand and force a smile at the man. If he gets too upset, he would lower his head to your ear and whisper a soft, “Can we leave? Please?” He wouldn’t want to show his anger or any kind of negative emotions if you could get involved. Mark would just want you both to leave so that he could have your attention.

Jackson

Oof, okay, Jackson would be very obvious part 1. He would wonder why out of the entire room, you would choose to talk to that person. The moment he would realise who you were talking to, his mood would make a complete 180 degree flip. I’m not saying that he is a very jealous person, I feel like jealousy would be an emotion that he doesn’t feel that much...?? Does that make sense?? Jackson doesn’t seem like the type of person to be overly jealous. I don’t know if it makes sense. Either way, if he’s jealous, he would probably act on it rather than just pushing it away.

Jackson would make it extremely obvious that he wouldn’t like how close the guy is getting to you. Whether it be him calling you from across the room or him suddenly showing up behind you, Jackson would show that guy that you're his and his only.

He would pop up behind you and snake an arm around your waist, twirling you around so that you were facing him. You’d look up at him with wide eyes from the sudden gesture, but he’d smile cheekily as he kisses you. “Let’s head home,” he would pull you away from the man and turn around, glaring at him as you leave.

Jinyoung

I don’t know why I find this funny to imagine, but Jinyoung seems like he would not stand being jealous for even a second. The moment he sees you talking to someone he doesn’t like, it’s an automatic flick of a switch in his mind that says: Get. By. My. Side. Now, I don’t think Jinyoung is possessive, but I do think he’s protective. He knows which people he trusts and who he doesn’t, and it’s not that he doesn’t trust you, it’s that he doesn’t trust the man you’re talking to.

And it’s an immediate reaction. He’s by your side within seconds of noticing you talking to this person. Jinyoung’s arm would be around your waist and he would pull you tighter against him while he takes over the conversation instead before pulling you away from the man as politely as he can.

Of course, you would be very confused and mildly irritated that Jinyoung would pull you out of a conversation so suddenly. “I don’t think you need to talk to him,” he’d shrug with a smug smile on his face.

Youngjae

Aww, little baby Youngjae. I love him and he’s always so precious in my eyes. I feel like jealousy might make him feel more sad rather than angry. He probably wouldn’t like to make it obvious either. Like Mark, he would stay on the more subtle and quiet side. Youngjae most likely wouldn’t act on it unless he absolutely cannot bear it anymore. This would most likely mean that he would just watch you for a really long time before he actually does anything about it. Even if he would, it would be very subtle because he wouldn’t want to cause anything that could get you involved.

Youngjae would tap your shoulder and give you a smile as he holds your hand, glancing over at the person you’re talking to. If he feels more compelled to make it obvious you’re his partner, he would snake his arm around your waist and press a soft kiss to your cheek. He would stick by your side for the rest of the night.

That is, until he decides that he can’t stand being around that person anymore and he urges you to leave. Youngjae would pull you away the moment the guy turns his attention away, even if it’s for a split second. “Let’s go home, please.”

BamBam

Welcome to very obvious part 2. We all know that BamBam’s flirty and cocky as fuck. Let’s just multiply that by ten if he’s jealous. He would probably get sulky at first and wonder why you aren’t talking to him instead. I see Bam as someone who would not only be very obvious, but he would also make it more public that you are his partner. He might make it obvious to the whole room with a loud, “Hey! It’s the love of my life!” or maybe a, “My baby!” Just to ward off any lurking eyes that were interested in you.

So if he were to see you talking to someone who’s being too touchy with you, trust that he would be by your side in a split second. BamBam would not tolerate that person for a second if he doesn’t trust them around you. He would not hesitate to make it obvious that you’re taken by him and that the other guy should back off.

BamBam would pull you away without much thought and while he’s dragging you away, he’d most likely smack your little booty while the other guy’s watching just to give him more of a warning. As surprised as you’d be, he wouldn’t really give you much of an explanation other than, “Don’t really like that dude.” And give you a pretty cheeky smirk when you’d blush at how handsy he would be.

Yugyeom

Tiny baby part 2. Yugyeom’s so...I love him so muc homg jhsdjsh he’s such a baby (this is so unprofessional I’m so sorry). But like I’m not sure why I can’t really pinpoint exactly how I’d see Yugyeom acting if he gets jealous. I feel like he’s a mix between acting sweet and subtle like Youngjae but also pretty cocky like BamBam (only because those two share like one single braincell sometimes). But I do feel like since he’s a scorpio, he might act a bit more on the distant/angery side.

If he saw someone he didn’t like trying to talk to you or flirting with you, he would probably get a bit pissed off. I have this really strong feeling that he would act more passive aggressive and more angry. Most likely, Yugyeom would try and find ways to grab your attention first; arm around the waist, kissing your temple softly, whispering stuff in your ear, etc. to basically get your attention. If you still weren’t paying enough attention to him, then he would get a bit sulky and try a bit more to get your attention.

Yugyeom might get a bit more handsy if it’s a dark place, but if it’s in a well lit area where people could see where his hands are, then he might whisper in your ear. “If we head home now, we can spend the whole night with just the two of us.” It might be a bit less Yugyeom, but this is how I’d imagine he would react. He just wants you to be with him only. If his mood is dampened by another person, then most likely he would want you to have your attention solely on him.

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ghostnebula · 4 years ago

Text

Sincere and Dignified

“Eddie's twenty-first birthday + The entire Losers' Club + Las Vegas + Being in love with your best friend = Well, exactly what you'd expect.”

[read it on Ao3]

(or here)

Eddie’s birthday is in November. Which makes him the youngest member of the Losers’ Club. Which makes him the last Loser to turn twenty-one.

Which means they go all-out to celebrate, since it’s the first time they can all (legally) celebrate together. And because they’ve kind of forgone “proper” twenty-first birthday festivities for everyone else, so no one would ever feel left out. Finally, no one needs to be left out of it.

They’ve all been living together for over three years now, they’re all getting close to graduating from college, and they all saved up for this one, because this is pretty much it. The last big, fun, tangible milestone in their young lives. The last “new” thing they’re earning the right to do (legally) after driving and voting. You bet your ass they go ham on Eddie’s birthday plans.

That’s how they end up in Vegas. Several long weeks of planning, lots of money they scraped together into jars over the last few years ready to be spent, checking and double-checking every class syllabus to make sure no one misses anything important on Friday (they have to be at their hotel in time for check-in or, between Stan and Eddie, someone will pitch a fit). Then they’re all piling into Ben’s station wagon with as little luggage as they could manage to bring for a weekend trip (the station wagon is “spacious”; it is not a fucking miracle vehicle).

Roughly ten hours later (five hours for driving, two for check-in plus cramming all their crap into the motel room and then attempting to organize it, one for figuring out and agreeing on where to even start with the partying, two more for getting ready) Eddie Kaspbrak has his first legal drink as a proper twenty-one year old, on this night of November third, and there’s no aftertaste of guilt like usual. He’s got Richie pushing shots into his hands, Mike making sure he’s eating some snacks once in a while so he doesn’t get too trashed too fast, Bev directing bartenders to make the most delicious fucking drinks he thinks he’ll ever taste in his life (Porn Stars, or something else inappropriate like that).

He has Bill, the oldest, practically under oath to stay sober (at least for tonight) so there’s one semi-coherent Loser present to keep the rest of them safe and sane until he can drag them all back to the motel.

He has a wad of cash in his pocket, a chunk of his savings from the past year, ready to blow on booze and gambling and whatever the fuck he wants, because it’s his birthday, so he’s allowed to do whatever the fuck he wants.

It’s safe, and more importantly, it’s legal, and most importantly, it’s Vegas. He never thought he’d ever have the balls to set foot in a place like this -- the kind of place his mother would demonize when he was a kid. Drinking, before he left Derry and his mom and the vice grip she had on his life, was completely out of the question, let alone getting hammered in a casino in Sin City, of all fucking places, under the care of the “evil little shits” he calls his best friends.

He more than lets loose. He lets twenty-one years of virtually non-stop anxiety unwind in one night.

When he wakes up the next morning, hung over for the first time in his life, it’s almost worth it. Bill’s the only motherfucker awake already, being that he’s the only one who doesn’t have several bottles of vodka et al. to sleep off, and he’s draped across the ratty arm chair in their ratty motel room, channel-surfing with the television volume as low as it can get. The light burns Eddie’s eyes, still, when he lifts his head and -- instead of turning, his head just kind of lolls on his shoulders until he can look at Bill properly.

He wants to ask him to end his suffering, which he can only assume he has yet to see the worst of. Suddenly he understands why aspirin exists. He wants Bill to pump him full of painkillers until he stops feeling like he’s made of electrified cotton. Instead, he says, articulately, “Guh.”

Bill turns his attention from Scooby-Doo to where Eddie is half-lying, trapped under the weight of Richie’s arm and half his chest. Richie is snoring away, glasses askew on his face, a cooling puddle of drool soaking Eddie’s shoulder. It’s gross, but he can’t really complain at this point. He’s accustomed to it by now.

“Ah, he lives.”

“Ugh,” says Eddie.

“I bet,” says Bill. “So, do you want a recap of the events of last night, or did you keep your promise and remember every life-altering decision you chose to make?”

Bill’s voice, which he’s hardly putting much effort into keeping down -- owing to the fact that all his effort is being channeled into trying not to laugh, and Eddie can’t even begin to fathom what’s so funny -- is causing the other Losers to stir. His splitting headache doesn’t want him to try to figure out what’s funny. He must have fried a metric shitload of braincells with all those Porn Stars last night, or whatever the fuck sugary booze Bev was pouring down his throat before everything went hazy.

“Life-altering?” he repeats after a few moments, as Richie’s arm finally stops crushing him. It’s the only word that really stands out to him in the jumbled mess of hangover discomfort his brain is fighting, and it should cause him anxiety but he’s more worried, right now, about drinking some water. Richie sits up beside him, yawning.

Bill hums. He looks terribly pleased with himself, which can be good or bad depending which side of the story you’re on, and Eddie’s got this sneaking suspicion he’s on the wrong side, here. “Yeah, that life-altering thing I tried to talk you two dipshits out of for longer than the actual ceremony took?”

“Ceremony?” Eddie asks, trying to feel back through his poor, poor brain to remember anything after slot machines and vibrant chatter and deceptively sweet beverages being passed to him. Richie’s head drops onto his shoulder as his arms wrap around Eddie’s waist. “Guh,” he says into the fabric of Eddie’s rumpled shirt. Habitually, Eddie reaches up to pat him consolingly on the head. Richie’s not one for mornings.

“Why don’t you take a look at your ring finger, birthday boy?” Bill says, but Eddie’s already frozen, because there was a flash when he raised his hand and he’s not entirely sure he’s believing what he’s seeing, and where the fuck did he even get the ring anyway, let alone a ring as nice as this? “Or, sorry, I should say: Mr. Tozier?”

Eddie... mostly ignores him, in favour of smacking Richie a few times on the skull to get his attention, hangovers be damned. “Richie,” he hisses, heart going a mile a minute. “The fuck did I do?”

Richie grumbles some kind of complaint, lifting his head from its safe space on Eddie’s shoulder, and when he follows Eddie’s gaze he lets out a kind of... laugh? More of a squawk, really. His left arm jerks off of Eddie’s waist lightning-quick, and then he’s holding up his own hand beside Eddie’s to show off their matching rings. “Oh my god,” he says, quiet (for Richie). A little bit of tension melts out of him. Then, “I think you mean, ‘the fuck did we do?’”

“Oh my god,” Eddie squeaks, and Bill loses his battle and dissolves into peals of laughter, remote slipping out of his hands and landing somewhere on the floor. “Bill, you were supposed to be babysitting.”

It takes a while, but Bill manages to regain his composure long enough to say, “Well forgive me, but you were a man on a mission. I distinctly remember a lot of, ‘we’re practically dating anyway’ and ‘no time like the present’ and ‘Bill, if you don’t step the fuck off I’m gonna shove this ring so far up your nostril you’ll be sneezing gold until you’re ninety.’ What was I gonna do about it?”

“Oh my god,” Eddie says again, red-faced, mortified, heart still going-going-going. They aren’t dating, though, is the problem, and yeah, he’s always had this stupid little idea in his stupid little head that they might as well be, but he’s never asked, because he wasn’t sure if he should. Wasn’t sure if it was safe. Wasn’t sure if Richie wanted something proper or to just stay very, very close friends until the grave. They weren’t dating, and now they’re married, and ohJesusMaryandJoseph why did he let himself get so drunk last night?

He doesn’t expect Richie to be resentful or anything, but he’s also an anxious mess by default, and post-drunken-haze Eddie is a different, apparently less chill person than mid-drunken-haze Eddie, because he doesn’t remember having this freakout last night.

He doesn’t think that Richie will be pissed about it, necessarily, but he’s terrified that Richie’s going to want to... undo this, somehow.

He expects regret.

He doesn’t expect Richie to slide his hand against Eddie’s so that their rings clack together, letting out a soft little, “Aw,” as he does so, or to press his scratchy, stubbly face against Eddie’s cheek to plant a kiss there, or to say, just as quiet and soft as ever, “We’re married, Eds.”

“Is that okay?” Eddie asks, heart in his throat, wondering if he somehow forced Richie into this when he wasn’t in full control of his faculties.

“More than okay,” Richie says. “Is it okay with you?”

Eddie nods dumbly, staring at their rings again, wondering what the fuck possessed them to make such a rash, life-altering decision like this, yet understanding all too well that his love for Richie is too big to contain and it has to spill out in little doses like this, or it’ll probably kill him, or make him go crazy. “Yeah,” he says finally, nodding perhaps too fast. “Yeah, Richie, it’s more than okay.”

He turns in Richie’s arms to kiss him properly, apparently not for the first time, and just the action brings a couple snippets of last night’s escapades abruptly to the surface.

“$25 Weddings,” a pink neon sign outside a squat white chapel proclaims, “Sincere and Dignified.” And below that, in smaller, baby blue lettering: “Can provide: Flowers, Rings, Witnesses, Transportation, Attire...” The list goes on. It’s a wonder Eddie is coherent enough to read it, let alone comprehend it, but he’s rounding on Richie, whose arm he’s hanging off of, with the best fucking idea already leaping from his lips.

“Ffffffuck Kaspbrak,” Eddie slurs as a reluctant Bill helps him slip on a suit jacket, fiddling with the purple clip-on bowtie Richie threw over the divider at him. “Fuck Kaspbrak, right, Rich?”

“Right,” Richie says enthusiastically -- probably too enthusiastically -- from the other side of the thin wooden divider that separates their “changing rooms.”

“Fuck that name,” Eddie decides, nodding to himself. Bill takes the bowtie out of his hands with a sigh, and Eddie lifts his chin to let Bill fasten it to his shirt, grumbling all the while about how stupid they both are. “And fuck my mom.”

“Fuck your mom!” Richie shouts. There’s a beat of relative quiet, then, “Not, like, fuck your mom, obviously. Fuck... you, maybe?” And then Bev’s raucous laughter echoes through the whole room.

Eddie can’t help laughing with her, even though Bill’s insisting he stay still “so you can at least look semi-presentable for your pictures, c’mon, Eddie, this is a big moment for me, too.”

“How are you the bridezilla, here, Bill?”

“Could you please just work with me here, I swear to-- agh!” (More laughter from Bev. Stan saying something incomprehensible but loud and boisterous. Mike trying to shush them.) “I’m just trying to make sure this is actually special since you absolute buffoons refuse to just wait and do this right.” Is Bill fucking crying?

Richie’s tongue down Eddie’s throat, over and over and over: in the chapel; in a bar; in front of the bar; just before Bill drags them away from the casino they’re trying to sneak back into and instead towards the station wagon he’s doing his best to herd the Losers to; in the station wagon; in front of the motel.

Bill prying them apart with minimal assistance from a piss-drunk Ben who insists he’s “helping,” telling them once again that they are not allowed to consummate their fucking marriage in public, and especially not allowed to do it in the motel room all seven of them have to sleep in--

He hears Bev’s little “aww” behind him somewhere as he and Richie break apart, and Stan’s grief about how fucking early it is “for this shit.” Eddie can hear something like a smile in his voice, if not just plain old amusement.

“We’re married, Rich,” Eddie repeats incredulously, and Bill is saying something about their marriage license in his wallet because neither of them can be trusted, but Eddie couldn’t care less about licenses or whatever, because Richie’s smiling down at him in that way that makes his heart feel too full. And he doesn’t mean to, but a choked noise bubbles up out of him, almost a sob, maybe a laugh. Tears burn in his eyes.

But that’s alright, because Richie’s crying already, and he wraps himself bodily around Eddie, rolling them over so he’s squishing him into the mattress while he kisses all over his face and his throat until Eddie’s squealing with laughter despite his agonizing hangover. He almost feels too good to care about it now, but he’s definitely getting some water and painkillers into his system the second the weird high he’s feeling subsides.

“Okay, okay,” says Stan, standing above them suddenly, swatting at Richie’s shoulders. “You’ve had your fun. Noisy assholes. We were too drunk for proper congratulations last night. Move over.”

All the Losers squeeze themselves onto the queen bed, somehow, and water bottles and aspirin get passed around. At some point Bill gets up to start the coffeemaker and comes back with (good fucking lord) their “wedding photos” in a crisp manila envelope. They’re just as gaudy as he expected. Leave it to Richie to find the ugliest possible outfit for his literal wedding.

Eddie gets hugs and shoulder-squeezes and cheek-kisses from everyone, over and over, and Bev actually cries for about ten full minutes while she holds him, then at least ten more while she holds Richie, and then Ben cries, and... well, they all end up crying all over each other, but it’s awash with joy. “We’re happy for you,” they keep saying, and Eddie’s happy for them, too. He didn’t expect to accidentally do things this way, but he has to be glad it happened.

“God,” he says a while later, shaking his head as he sips sugary coffee from the mug he and Richie are sharing (this room is meant for four people, max, not seven, and is equipped accordingly). He’s still examining a picture of Richie attempting to give him a piggy-back ride out of the chapel. Bill is visible in the background, eyes red and puffy, a wad of tissues clenched in his hand while Mike tries to console him. Eddie has been making fun of him for about half an hour now. “My mom would flip if I told her about this.” But the thought doesn’t scare him. He doesn’t get scared of her anymore. Not like he used to. Not when he’s so far away and he feels so safe with these six idiots who bring so much joy to his life.

Richie’s thumb rubs over the skin of his lower back where his hand has crept up Eddie’s shirt. “Good thing you don’t have to,” he says, and that familiar mantra of “You never have to see her again,” bleeds through, plain as ever.

Eddie hums. Passes the coffee back to him. “I know. But... I kinda want to. Just to watch her head explode,” he says with a shrug and a grin, earning a chorus of easy laughter from his friends. He stares at the ring on Richie’s finger as Richie throws back the rest of their coffee, something warm and familiar blooming brighter in his chest.

#reddie #my writing #oh look i actually found time in the chaos of my life to post this #a miracle #also a fic short enough to just post the whole thing on tumblr???#a second miracle #the losers club #cw alcohol #cw gambling #vegas wedding babey

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secret-engima · 4 years ago

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missingmywing

Okay, but imagine Ignis as Rufus. Who looks around, and sees everything that he fought against in a previous lifetime, now in power, now with the expectation that he would endorse it. And Ignis knows politics, he spent a childhood previously elbow-deep in the thick them, learning to protect his prince. He knows the games, the moves. Sharp minded, ever practical Ignis looks around and says "No. This will not stand."

missingmywing

And every move he makes has several layers of purpose. He plays the son of the President to a T- all the while doing everything in his power to undermine Shinra. And he looks at the Turks, and sees potential. (I could also see him as Lazard, but I feel like Rufus would be more fitting, somehow.)

missingmywing

As for Gladio: Angeal. A complete 180 from his last life, he grows up with nothing but his family, and he loves them even as he aches for what isn't there. And then he meets a redhead boy who's all swagger and tough-talk with a temper that he can't fully fight back and suddenly has the thought "Is this what Ignis felt like dealing with me?" Suddenly Gladio is the braincell, arguing against a boy who feels he has something to prove and will do reckless things to prove it.

missingmywing

And he follows after a boy who he feels doesn't take things seriously enough, and is too immature, but this time it's not out of duty. It's to keep this boy who's a reflection of himself at his absolute worst, with none of the growth or maturity he grew into, from getting himself killed taking on something he can't handle. (And then he meets Sephiroth. And then he meets Ignis. And things suddenly get very complicated. And about twenty times more stressful.)

Me: Oooo this is GLORIOUS. @swiftyue suggested Ignis as Tseng, which is ALSO glorious, but I will admit this one is more tempting. Just-

Ignis is reborn and for a while he doesn’t remember. But then there’s a kidnapping attempt that is both successful and also not, and the Turks find “Rufus” two weeks later out in the wastelands outside Midgar with shaking hands and too-keen eyes, because Rufus almost died and now Ignis has WOKEN UP.

Only to find that now HE is the royalty (in all but name). HE is the child of a cruel empire, destined to sit on its throne and he hates it, he HATES it.

He looks out upon all Rupert Shinra (not father, NEVER father, that bloody, apathetic tyrant will never be Ignis’s parent) has built and decides he will tear it down. He will rip it up by the roots and if nothing can be salvaged then he will burn it to the ground.

But he is (was) the Hand of a king, he knows better than to rush out like a revolutionary, causing collateral left and right, hurting the innocent people. He will not be one of those angry, shortsighted vigilantes who tear down businesses, ruin livelihoods and break families of the ordinary citizens who’s only sin is that they, like so many others, live and work in the shadow of Shinra’s sins. Oh no.

Ignis stands to inherit an empire. He has a lifetime of political training and experience and patience to back him up already. He was a CORNERSTONE of the survival of mankind during the Long Night.

He will play the long game, he has the time. He will sit on his throne and move his pieces across Rupert Shinra’s board.

And he will win.

He wears the name and skin of Rufus Shinra like a theater mask, a tailored suit. He listens to everything his tutors can give him and then sneaks off to the library for more. The mayor finds him endearing really, with his gentle manners and his lust for knowledge of history, arts, and sciences. He watches the Turks that guard him and in them he sees the keys to all of Shinra, and so he plays that game too. The Turks underestimate him, even as they watch his “prodigy mind” absorbing information years ahead of what he should be. Rupert is thrilled to have a genius child, but even he doesn’t know how vast Ignis’s mind is. Only the Turks get that glimpse, and only the ones he thinks are worthy.

Tseng quickly becomes a favorite, he reminds Ignis of himself, and they get along splendidly. Reno and Rude come later, a matched pair that reminds Ignis of things from his past life and make him smile (the first time Tseng hears Rufus laugh out loud, he goes still in shock. Reno, a new rookie Turk at the time, has no clue what a miracle he’s created just by trying and failing to make hot chocolate, how the young child of the president hasn’t openly laughed or smiled since his kidnapping and two week disappearance.)

One by one, Ignis draws the Turks in. He is charismatic for his age and smart, he knows how to win people over, especially people who know that he was “up to something”. Some of them he wins over by being “endearingly bad” at manipulation, like a Coeurl cub being cooed at for its clumsy pounces rather than feared for the deadly killer it is teaching itself to become. Others he wins over with his mind, impressing the keen sighted with his intelligence and drive and work ethic.

Some, like Tseng, he wins over by being the most of himself he’s ever been. It’s Tseng who discovers Ignis’s cooking obsession, how baking from scratch and making filling dishes for others to eat relaxes him like nothing else. It’s Tseng who realizes one day that his charge wears the name “Rufus Shinra” like an suit that is tailored wrong so that it chafes and wears.

But Ignis knows he’s won the Turks the day Veld comes to visit (as he sometimes does, for the head of such a deadly division, the man has a heart for children and Rufus is the only one he has any reason to visit during his long months of work) and catches Tseng calling Ignis “Ignis”, because Tseng had asked what name he would prefer over “Rufus” and Ignis had dared to answer honestly, and doesn’t tell Rupert. He just watches Tseng and Ignis interact with sharp eyes, accept the muffin Ignis bossily pressed into his hand, and then let it slide.

An identity crisis is something Rupert would have wanted to know (should have been told). But Rupert never speaks of it and Ignis is certain he doesn’t know. Veld has kept the secret. And it’s only a little one really, but it’s one of Ignis’s secrets Veld is choosing to keep. It’s foot in the door.

Ignis can do a lot with a foot in the door.

And then of course later, Ignis learns he’s not alone. He reunites with Gladio first, and the Turks sit up internally at how FAST their young vice president bonds with the Soldier, how quickly they fall into a rhythm around each other that speaks of years of partnership rather than a few months of friendship.

And then he learns there are OTHER. Prompto and Luna and NOCTIS and Ignis could cry from relief that he is not alone anymore in this second lifetime. He is not the only one anymore.

...

And YES. GLADIO AS ANGEAL LET’S DO THAT. I just- I love this idea so much. That Gladio wakes up when he’s young, and he remembers- being someone else. Being a Shield and a Crownsguard and a leader and a brother and now-

Now he’s an only child, an ordinary child in an ordinary orchard town and he loves his parents, he does, and he loves the lazy days of BEING a child without having to train for an inherited duty but-.

But it still aches.

He walks in the shadow of someone no one can see, and he watches the sunrise and thinks he hears a camera clicking when there is none, and sometimes he can barely swallow his mother’s apple pie because it’s GOOD but it ISN’T IGGY’S. It tastes WRONG, like it’s less somehow than Ignis’s familiar (safe, home) cooking and- and it hurts. It makes him quieter and steadier than most kids, more patient and more honorable. He has been a leader of men, a Shield of a King (a brother who failed), a warrior who helped hold back the darkness of the Long Night. The problems of children seem awfully small compared to all that.

And then he meets Genesis. Genesis who is too smart and too immature by turns, who is BRIGHT and brilliant and has something to prove wherever he goes, because his rich parents may love him, but they do not pay attention to him in the way he needs and all Angeal (Gladio) can see is himself. Young and stubborn and angry at a world that already has his destiny laid out, eager to prove himself in any way he could an Astrals is this how Ignis felt dealing with him? No wonder his brother in arms got so impatient sometimes. Angeal feels like smacking Genesis upside the head more than once, but instead he bites it back and channels his adult side into keeping this kid from doing something dumb.

It takes him a few years to realize he is now Genesis’s Ignis and inside he’s a bit of a Scream™.

Angeal has no interest in Shinra, he can smell the corruption from a hundred miles away, but Genesis is obsessed and not willing to budge on this no matter how Angeal wheedles, so the day Genesis runs off to sign up, Angeal is on his heels sighing bitterly that he is once again signing himself up to a military life.

And then he meets Sephiroth, who is so clearly abused and weaponized and lost in a world outside the labs that it HURTS and Angeal can’t stop himself from being a Shield again. From standing between Sephiroth and the world with a steady, controlled ferocity that unknowingly takes Sephiroth’s breath away.

(Sephiroth meets them in Wutai, two more recruits to the war, and at first he has only eyes for Genesis, who is loud and competitive and confusing and annoying)

(He doesn’t really notice the bigger one with black hair and knowing eyes trailing along behind)

(Until another Soldier starts getting too pushy and angry over something Sephiroth did that he doesn’t understand and his control over his instincts to lash out is shaking and then suddenly there’s someone standing between them, a wall of muscle where there was none before, a broad young back of another Soldier, a rookie, who looks the older Soldier in the eyes and growls at him to back off while Genesis orbits nearby with a fire materia and a gleam in his eyes.)

(And Sephiroth learns that the wall’s name is Angeal)

Angeal gets attached, and during one of his leaves, he comes back with a tender back and arms from the tattoo of an eagle with spread wings (and the style is wrong, not like his old one, he’d gone to a Wutai parlor and they had a different art style, but it is HIS. His feathers and his promise. When Sephiroth runs curious fingers down the feathers on his bicep, Angeal tells him it’s a promise to his friends and Sephiroth looks surprised to realize that he is included in that promise).

Then they are recalled to Midgar, to a city that stinks of corruption and Angeal-

And Gladio-

Finds Ignis again.

And that is stressful, because what if that means Noct is out there alone somewhere, but it is also a RELIEF because he never knew how exhausting being the group Braincell was until now and he needs to vent, even if it means Ignis gets to laugh at his misery.

#Secret Engima Rambles #Sunshine and Clouds verse

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chronicallylatetotheparty · 4 years ago

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Two Gods, One Braincell Ch.2 Banquet of the Gods

Summary:

You have acquired heavenly pastries.

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

What is that godly smell!? Kagami was already salivating as she flew towards a veritable buffet of fragrances. Wait, no, it was a literal buffet!

In the middle of a meadow, the feast of heaven's food laid surrounded by wildflowers. Pastries of all kinds made with grain from the Field of Reeds (they carried the distinctive sweet scent of the afterlife). Flesh of divine fruits and monstrous animals steamed the air.

Adrien's stomach growled and Kagami's joined it.

Shifting into a form with hands Kagami sat properly before the table loaded with different plates. She reached for a golden, crispy, mouthwatering-

"I thought that would get your attention!"

Snatching her hand back Kagami turned to see a goddess with dark, shoulder length hair, clear blue eyes and red, spotted armor. Her arms were crossed as she narrowed her eyes at both of them. Adrien, having already stuffed his mouth with one of her honey cakes, coughed in surprise.

"Well?" Marinette asked, tapping her foot. "What do you have to say for yourselves?"

Swallowing thickly, Adrien asked. "How'd you catch up to us?"

"I asked Max," Marinette replied with a roll of her eyes. Implying that anyone with common sense should've asked Max too.

Deliberately keeping eye contact Kagami reached for Marinette's food again. Ignoring her raised eyebrow Kagami took a bite and chewed savoringly. Taking advantage of Marinette's attention being off him Adrien shoveled food into his mouth and swallowed.

Eyebrow twitching, Marinette kept glaring for a moment more before she sighed and sat across from them. "Did neither of you bring proper food when you decided to run away?"

"That is an exaggeration." Kagami took another bite.

"Yeah, yeah. Did you?"

"We brought some golden apples!" Adrien supplied. It came out more defensively than he meant it to.

"Oh, really! Then I guess you don't need any of this then do you?" Marinette threateningly pretended to reach for their plates.

Kagami swallowed quickly. "Uh, I wouldn't-"

Shifting, Adrien snapped his jaws onto an entire meat pie of erymanthian boar. Swallowing it whole, Adrien shifted back in the middle of licking his lips. At least having the decency to look sheepish. "Sorry. Hungry."

Marinette sagged in resignation. "I can't believe I have to clean up your mess." She grabbed a piece of ambrosia and popped it into her mouth.

"... Well, you don't have to," Kagami pointed out.

"No, I'm gonna."

Adrien nodded, embarrassment already forgotten. "Besides. You know how boring everything would be without us!"

"Ah," Marinette sighed wistfully, "Sweet peace."

A marble of shadow flicked another piece of ambrosia out of Marinette's fingers. Turning into a mushroom were it landed among the grass.

"Hey!"

Sticking his tongue out, Adrien grabbed a pitcher of nectar and began downing it by himself.

Kagami almost choked on her peach dumpling as laughter bubbled up. "We- ahem, We're grateful for the chance to eat your cooking again, Marinette."

"Uh-huh, I'm sure." She side eyed Adrien who merely smirked past a full mouth. "He was supposed to bring you back, not go running off with you."

"I'm guessing the council didn't take it well?" It would be lying to herself if Kagami didn't admit that the council's floundering filled her with pleased satisfaction.

Marinette shrugged. She didn't have warm, fuzzy feelings for them either. "They're upset you keep messing with their holy hit list."

"Pfft!" Nope, Kagami needed to focus. No giggling!

Adrien beamed. "You used my joke!"

"It was a joke?" Marinette looked genuinely surprised.

"Did they explain the circumstances?" Kagami asked.

"You know they're not big on explaining." Marinette wrinkled her nose in annoyance.

"Right. Adrien cursed a city-"

"Thrown into the hell pit just like that. Harsh."

"-and it was a bit too effective. I'm going to end their drought."

Marinette raised her eyebrows skeptically, gaze going from one to the other. "Adrien. You cursed a mortal city? What'd they do, kick kittens?"

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Ah, you know..."

"That's not important," Kagami said too quickly. Suddenly realizing that Marinette was probably the one who'd take the most offense to... certain transgressions.

"Alright keep your secrets." Marinette's brow furrowed, as though suddenly realizing. "Did you both seriously start eating without checking whose food this was? What if it was cursed!"

"I'm immune to curses." Adrien reminded her, nonchalantly reaching for Kagami's peach dumplings.

Kagami lightly smacked Adrien's hand away. Get your own. "And I'm a dragon."

"Oh, that's right! Because that decade you spent in your creature forms totally didn't happen," Marinette deadpanned.

"Th- That's different!" Adrien spluttered.

Pink dusted Kagami's cheeks but she wasn't going to let that stop her. "Fascinating. And how would you describe what happened after?"

Marinette turned beet red.

"How did it go Adrien?" Kagami asked, not quite able to mask her predatory glee. "It appears I've forgotten."

Making no such effort himself, Adrien cleared his throat. " 'Don't be silly, Adrien! I'm a goddess of creation! There's no way I could fall under a curse like that!' "

"I don't sound like that!" Marinette's indignation making her pitch practically identical to Adrien's imitation.

Dragon and cat burst into laughter.

"I could've convinced the other creator deities to let chaos continue," Marinette mumbled to herself. "Nice, empty, swirling clouds of proto-matter. No cheeky dragons making me suffer this humiliation."

Adrien smirked. "The destroyers would never have let you. We're easily bored, you know."

Kagami nodded sagely. "Yes, and how much poorer the world would be if my kind wasn't around to promote humility by saying: Ah, but are you a dragon?"

Raising her fist in the manner she'd seen mortals doing, Kagami met Adrien's knuckles with her own.

Marinette pouted. "I hate both of you."

"We love you too, Marinette," Kagami grinned.

"And we love your cooking!" Adrien raised another pitcher of nectar to wash down his seventh helping.

"Speaking of food," Kagami said, eyeing the self refilling plates. "You could come with us?"

"Tempting, but someone has to report back because someone else didn't." Marinette narrowed her eyes at Adrien in an unmistakable accusation.

Adrien straightened, eyes going wide he pointed at himself and mouthed Moi? If Kagami didn't know better she wouldn't bought his innocent act.

"Yes, you!" Muttering under her breath about chaotic cats Marinette pulled out a large tablecloth. Red with black spots she threw it over the table, covering it entirely. With a swish she revealed nothing but flattened grass.

"Here," Marinette offered Kagami a spotted, red cloth. Small enough to fit in a pocket. "I don't want to resurrect you two this century. The paperwork is killer."

"Thank you, Marinette." Kagami took the gift and placed it in her robes before she- Er, Adrien could start drooling over it.

Glancing between the two goddesses Adrien rose. "Well, it was fun catching up!" Bowing with a flourish, he grinned. "Hate to eat and run but we have a rainy season to jump start." Stepping forward, Adrien kissed Marinette on both cheeks.

Color tinted Kagami's cheeks a shade darker. Stupid platonic kisses.

Shifting, Adrien leapt into the sky.

Kagami wrapped Marinette in a hug. "Don't strain yourself too much on our account."

Marinette returned the embrace. "Stop charging in fangs first then."

Chuckling, Kagami looked her in the eyes. "Too late for that. Maybe next time."

Stepping back, Marinette wagged her finger. "I'll hold you to that."

With a grin Kagami blasted skyward. Wind blowing across the meadow. She slithered on the air. Quickly catching up to Adrien who strolled leisurely across the clouds, waiting for her to catch up.

With full bellies and high spirits they sailed closer to completing Kagami's quest.

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

@kagamiappreciationweek2020

#ml fanfic #kagami tsurugi #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #ml au #god!au #ml #miraculous ladybug

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dalgikiss · 4 years ago

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Catch-22 // h. iwaizumi

index

part 10

It’s Iwaizumi’s turn to avoid you now, tips of his ears turning pink when your name is mentioned and flashbacks of his word vomit replaying in his mind.

You pretend not to notice when he comes in late and how his eyes avoid looking in your direction. It totally doesn’t hurt

It definitely does

Oikawa notices the unspoken tension between you two whenever he decides to come into your classroom, observant brown eyes narrowing in on how Iwaizumi refused to turn towards you, answering his questions rougher than usual and how you’d stare at everything but Iwaizumi.

“What’s this all about?” He asks you one day, early in the morning before school has started. He had snuck out of his house much earlier than usual, claiming he had a morning meeting with his teacher before class started to get out of walking with Iwaizumi.

“What’s what all about?” you ask sleepily, eyes struggling to stay open. He lets you lean your head against his shoulder, sitting underneath the giant Weeping Willow in the school courtyard. Your stray strands of hair flutter in the breeze, tickling his nose.

“You and Iwa-chan don’t even glance at each other anymore. How am I supposed to live when my best friends aren’t talking to each other?”

You pretend you haven’t heard him, twisting your head so you could face his neck, breathing in the smell of his cologne and let the warmth from his neck flush through your body when you rested your forehead against him.

“Is my crush on Iwaizumi obvious?” You ask instead and he looks down at you in surprise, eyes studying your relaxed expression. An involuntary shiver runs up his spine when your eyelashes sweep against his neck and tickle him in the process.

He thinks back to your blushing face and stuttering words when iwaizumi looked at you just a little too long, your slender fingers always reaching for him in crowded areas so they wouldn’t get separated and soft eyes that saw him with something that spoke of a little more than friendship.

Obvious? Maybe, at least to the trained eye.

He weighed his options, wondering what kind of answer you were looking for before deciding to deflect your question with another one. “Why do you ask?”

A breath of air fans over his neck and he holds in his laughter when your lips move against him, tickling his neck in the process. “Ryuoko told Iwaizumi that i liked him”

It was as though a lightbulb went off in his head, the pieces all clicking together. Oikawa nods in understanding as he makes sense of the strange behavior the both of you were exhibiting.

“I didn’t confirm or anything” You continue, “I was just wondering if it was obvious”

“If it was, Iwaizumi would have gotten the hint by now” Oikawa reassures you but it does nothing to calm you down. You screw your eyes shut, Oikawa feeling the folds of your skin against his neck.

“What if he totally did know and was just trying to find a way to reject me nicely and I’m actually the oblivious one”

Oikawa thinks back to the late summer afternoons where he watched his longtime friend go numb in position because he was too scared to move and awaken you in the middle of your nap, how Iwaizumi’s tanned skin would turn red under your gaze and he’d blame it on the sweltering summer heat and his calloused hands after years of playing volleyball wrapping around yours in crowded rooms.

“Do you like her?” Oikawa had asked one summer day, lying on the grass next to Iwaizumi. They both stared ahead at the sky, the setting sun casting brilliant shades of purple and gold along the horizon.

Iwaizumi watched the plane fly past, the roar of the engine bringing a rush of wind that rustled the tree leaves and made the birds chirp in annoyance. “Don’t ask me stupid questions” He responds gruffly.

You had long gone home, accompanied by Hanamaki and Matsukawa with the promise of stopping at the convenience store by the park to buy popsicles. Iwaizumi had stayed behind with Oikawa, promising Oikawa’s mother he’d take him home once the sun was no longer in the sky.

Oikawa let Iwaizumi brood over his answer, raising his fingers to try and trace the shapes of the clouds in the sky as he waited.

“It doesn’t really matter if I do or don’t like her” Iwaizumi finally admitted and Oikawa dropped his hand back down to his side, rolling over to look at iwaizumi’s side profile and the even rise and fall of his chest with every breath.

“If she doesn’t like me back, is there a point?”

Oikawa fell back onto his back, smiling softly. “So you do like her then?”

There’s a small puff of air that’s released from Iwaizumi’s mouth when he heard the question and he finally sat up, stretching his arms up past his head. “Stop asking me questions you already know the answer to”

Iwaizumi leaned over to poke at Oikawa’s side, gesturing with a nod of his head. “It’s time to go home before your mom gets upset”

Oikawa let out a whine at that, wanting to stay outside longer but got up anyways, picking his volleyball up off the sandy floor. The park behind them becomes further and further with every step they take until it’s swallowed into the darkness.

He blinks when you pull his hand into yours, interlacing fingers with him, reminding him he’s here in the present. Your thumb smoothes over his, your finger cold against his heated skin.

“Class is starting soon” You murmur, the courtyard growing louder as students begin to file in. The giant clock that hangs in front of the entrance reminds him they had to go inside soon, class starting in 15 minutes but your soft breathing and relaxed hand held loosely in his said to wait a little more.

Just a little longer, he decides, just a little longer

“Aren’t you tired of ignoring [surname]-chan?” Oikawa asks, sliding into your seat at lunch after you had been whisked away by Matsukawa.

Iwaizumi stares hard at Oikawa, envisioning burning holes into his forehead. “You’re annoying”

“I think you need to come up with new insults, they’re getting a bit old. Do you have enough brain cells for that?”

Iwaizumi reaches forward, sharply tugging on a tuft of Oikawa’s hair and he lets out a yelp of pain. He doesn’t hold the same hostility he used to, mind occupied. Ryuoko passes by the windows, brown eyes glancing once into the classroom before turning back in front of her. Iwaizumi follows her figure, unconsciously making a face when he remembers their last conversation.

Me or your friends

Oikawa follows his gaze, cocking his head to the side at the sight of her. “By the way, isn’t she usually here during breaks?”

Iwaizumi returns his gaze back to his desk. “We got into a fight”

“Oh I see, about what?”

Iwaizumi turned to look at him, wondering if now was the right time to bring it up. Oikawa waits patiently, doodling small flowers in the corner of random pages of your notebook.

“Her or my friends”

Oikawa keeps his eyes on your desk, pencil stilling in the middle of drawing a tulip before resuming, finishing the petals and beginning to draw the stem.

“And?”

Oikawa’s tone is still as lighthearted as ever, teasing Iwaizumi but Iwaizumi’s already seen it- the fleeting look on his face, chocolate brown eyes darkening and eyebrows furrowing and the hair on the back of Iwaizumi’s neck stand to attention.

Dangerous

It’s only there for a fraction of a second, gone so fast that anyone else wouldn’t have noticed it but Iwaizumi is not ‘anyone else’. He waits for a few moments, quietly deciding between whether he should bring it up or say nothing at all and goes for the latter.

He reaches over to tug on Oikawa’s hair again, but it’s not the same. It’s reassuring, the sharp tug on his curly hair reminding Oikawa he wasn’t going anywhere. “Of course I’m not leaving you guys, dumbass”

Oikawa lets out a sharp yelp, hands coming up to try and free himself. “Stop it! My hair- I spent all morning on it, let go!”

It’s only the slightest change in his tone, practically not even there but Iwaizumi knows his job is done and everything is okay. He lets go of his hair, but not before taking his hand and running it through Oikawa’s styled hair as revenge.

“I’m sure you’ll make the right decision, iwa-chan” Oikawa says as he uselessly tries to fix his hair, “After all, even though you’re a brute with only two braincells-”

“I dare you to finish your sentence” Iwaizumi threatens and Oikawa shrinks back into his seat with a small laugh

“Relax Iwa-chan! Even with your lack of brain cells, I’m sure you’ll be able to make the right decision!- ow!”

The sting on Iwaizumi’s hand reminds him he needs to buy hand lotion and he admires his work, a nice red welt forming at the very center of Oikawa’s head. Oikawa grumbles something about Iwaizumi being too strong for your own good and your hands are rougher than sandpaper before running away, just in time to avoid another smack in the head.

Make the right choice, Iwa-chan!

Oikawa doesn’t say it out loud but Iwaizumi knows the hidden meaning beyond what’s not said and he chews on his left cheek as he watches Oikawa make faces at him through the safety of the classroom window.

What’s the right choice?

He watches Ryuoko walk past his classroom, stopping only briefly to greet Oikawa who waves her away with a half hearted smile that makes his fangirls swoon and Iwaizumi already knows Oikawa has begun to hold a grudge against her.

The right choice is your friends

#iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi fanfic #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x you #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi haijime x reader

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heli0s-writes · 5 years ago

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Moving Night

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes Summary: The three of you finally move out! But now you are very tired and very cranky. A/N: 4 of ?? Snapshots between you, Steve, and Bucky. In the same canon as Mystery of Love– check it out first :)

The last of the boxes have been unpacked, made quick work of under the determined hands of Steve and impatient hands of Bucky. It is midnight and Bucky is ripping apart cardboard and piling them by the corner of the entranceway. Steve is arranging dishes into cabinets with quiet clunks and careful precision, handling the ceramic ware as lightly as he can.

After another shelf has been stuffed full, he stands back to inspect his handiwork.

“What do you think about this arrangement?” He asks, completely serious.

You are splayed out on the newly mopped hardwood floor dramatically, arms outstretched, legs bent, as if you are a murder victim about to be traced be chalk. Steve and Bucky both have chosen to ignore you for the past fifteen minutes, letting you be because they know better than to encourage you.

“Beautiful.” You announce, cheek pressed to the floor. “Fantastic. Wonderful. Amazing. What a configuration of wine glasses and mugs.”

Bucky snorts in the distance and Steve only rolls his eyes, “I’m serious!” He scolds.

“Let’s go to go bed!” You whine in return, kicking your legs and planting your sock-covered feet until you are spinning slowly in a wide circle with your head and shoulder as the center point. It’s rare for you to be such a brat, but you are dead-tired and hate unpacking. The sheer amount of brainpower it takes to visualize where everything goes and how makes you pessimistic and limp.

The last two apartments you moved into, you were living a minimalist Marie-Kondo type of life, with your camera as your only prized possession. Since then, you have accumulated more clothing, more dishes, more towels, more of everything because there are two other people involved and they both are very specific when it comes to their needs.

Bucky needs so many pairs of socks. Steve needs house-shoes. Bucky needs throw blankets. Steve needs all of his books. They both love houseplants and handheld shower heads and locally sourced coffee beans and what the hell are wool dryer balls, Steve?

Naturally, the boxes piled on until they were way over your head and taking up all the space in the living room. You could no longer visualize where anything went along with when oh when will this be all put away?

“Honey, will ya help me out?” Steve grumbles from the kitchen as he sorts through cleaning supplies. “We decided to move into our own place, so now we need to—“

“Yeah, yeah. We need to make it feel like a home.” You reply, shutting your eyes. When you open them again, the overhead light is blocked because Bucky is hovering over you with a feline smirk.

“Is baby feeling tired?” He teases, “Strong girl, you carried so many boxes today.”

You roll your eyes because compared to them, the boxes you carried were featherweight and while they continued unpacking all you have done is put things in the upstairs bathroom and fixed a space for you to get ready in the morning. Most of the clothes had been sorted into the right closets, but upon seeing the still half-full living room of packed away objects downstairs, you grew exhausted.

Bucky leans down until he’s on his knees and gives you an upside-down kiss, tasting of the slightest hint of salt from his sweat. It didn’t help that the move was made in August when the sun seemed to be the hottest regardless of whether or not it’s true. It had been a terribly scorching day. “Just another hour, dollface, until Steve’s ready.”

You frown. “He won’t be ready until it’s all finished.”

From the kitchen, a drawer shuts before Steve appears, shirt sleeves rolled all the way up over his shoulders and hands on his hips. “What was that?” He asks with a raised brow.

“Stevie, honey,” You sigh, “My darling, my sunshine…” Bucky sits back and shakes his head; you are laying it on thick. “My golden lion, my Hercules and—”

“Okay, that’s enough.” They both say in unison to the way your mouth curls up into a smirk. One more second and you would have turned raunchy— listing the ways he’s well endowed like a god, too.

“I wanna go to sleep!” You say petulantly, “It’s almost two and we’ve been up since six and I know you two are big, strong, super boys, but I am tired! If I had any energy left at all, I’d help but I don’t!” You turn uselessly, side to side.

Bucky is more prone to letting you have your way, so he shrugs before looking up to Steve who sighs deeply, letting his head roll back. “You are so spoiled.”

Your eyelids flutter as you chew on your lip, doing your best impression of a timid little girl under his scrutiny. Even your hands clasp together, and you flex them straight down, pulling your shoulders up to rest your cheek on.

Steve sighs with a tiny smirk.

A smile breaks across your face, proudly displaying your teeth as you squeal and sit up quickly. In a snap, you launch yourself onto Steve’s torso and wrap your legs around him.

“Yes!” Then, you pepper kisses all over his face and down his neck and your hands lift the back of his shirt up, fingers digging into his muscles. “Thank you! Love you, love you, love—“

“Why, honey,” Steve mumbles under your mouth as another kiss lands on his lips, “You’ve suddenly got so much energy for someone so tired.”

And you wilt once more, like a flower trampled under the searing blaze of summer sun. “One more box?” He asks, sending Bucky an impish wink.

“No! More! Boxes! Just! Go! To! Bed!” You beat your fists on his chest and thrash against his hips until you run out of breath and slump against him. “What?” you ask when his grip tightens.

Bucky puts his arm around Steve’s shoulders and peers at you. “Nice job, baby. Smart way to distract him.”

“You want to go to bed?” Steve mumbles, licking his lips. You feel it then, against your center, Steve growing stiff and large. From your tantrum in his arms, you’ve rocked all over him in just the right way. “I’ll take you to bed.” He puffs into your ear, “I’ll take you to bed, alright. ‘m gonna get you real tired, baby.”

Bucky is laughing now, cackling at the way you lean back and let your arms hang like boiled noodles to your side. One of Steve’s arms braces your spine while the other one curls around your bottom under your thigh. No, you are actually tired now. It’s almost two, and you have genuinely tuckered yourself out by violently flailing. Your last fucking braincell is counting sheep branded with red and white stars.

Steve’s last braincell seems to be in between his legs. “Bucky, please.” You moan, “Save me.”

“I’ll volunteer as tribute.” Bucky shrugs nonchalantly and you dramatically put the back of your hand over your forehead while Steve walks your flaccid body upstairs.

“Oh, thank you kind sir. Steve, did you hear that? Bucky’s gonna take my place. So brave.”

With one eye, you peek up at him as a smirk grows over his face.

“Uh-huh. Sure, honey. We’ll see how long this little act of yours lasts when I get my mouth on ‘im.”

Your body bounces off the mattress and you grunt a little, tugging the sheet over your body and turn on your side. Your eyelids are so heavy and dull, neck and shoulders aching, not to mention your poor feet from standing up all day.

A shirt gets tossed on your face and you swat it away in irritation before another one lands in the same place. You pull the cover over your head, determined to endure them and pull through your mission of getting rest.

Someone’s palm lands on someone else with a sharp thwack. Throaty chuckles arise before being smothered by a groaning mouth. Tongues touch and lips smack lewdly. And then, good fucking lord, the bed starts to rock as two voices pant and purr in unison.

“Fuck yes,” Bucky laughs, “Goddamn it, you’re so good.”

Butterflies are whipping around in your stomach. Steve is slurping and sucking noisily, and they both are exchanging husky breaths full of praise about who’s mouth is softer until they are both groaning into each other. You are desperately trying to count sheep but the images in your head are turning the sheep into naked little caricatures of your men, running at you instead.

“Oh, fuck you two!” You exclaim, angrily yanking the sheet down.

They are both lying on their sides, wrapped under the comforter up to their necks, as if you’ve stumbled in on them merely relaxing. No hair is misplaced on Steve nor Bucky’s head, and they look completely unruffled and serene, quirking their eyebrows at you on the edge of the mattress, fuming to yourself.

“You okay?” Bucky asks, face contorted in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re not going to sleep, baby?” Steve prompts, tilting his head.

You scramble out of the sheet and throw yourself on top of Steve, tearing the blanket off and then shoving two fingers into Bucky’s chest, twisting the ever-loving fuck out of his nipple. “Teach me a fuckin’ lesson, here’s what I have to say to that.” You snap before doing the same to Steve. They both yelp in pain and cover themselves, shocked that you would be so rough.

Then, you cross your arms and huff. “Lesson learned, boys. Now,” you narrow your eyes at them, “I’m going to sleep.”

#marvel #mcu #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky x reader #fanfiction #reader insert #Mystery of Love heli0s

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eyeslikefoxglove · 5 years ago

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Episode 4 - Meng Yao has a crush & Foxglove likes to babble

Hello everybody, welcome to episode 4. I slept like a baby last night, but I have a migraine so I may sound a bit incoherent. (Post episode Foxglove here, I’m not incoherent in this, I’m just ranty)

Poor WWX. Funny story, during my first? Second? Year of Med School I fell aspleep on my biophysics notes during exam period, woke up at 9pm when my alarm for my meds started ringing, realised what I’d done and called my mum (who was on a 24h shift at the hospital) crying. In hindsight is hilarious because I had something like two weeks until the exam so I lost no more than a few hours but oh well.

Full disclosure here: I don’t like the Lan sect, LXC, LWJ and the Ducklings excluded I think they’re a bunch of hypocrites. You can’t call yourself righteous and boast about your almost 4000 rules and then shrug when people decide to commit genocide.

Also, 4000-ish rules? Fuck that noise, there’s a post floating around here where some amazing soul translated what they could see of the Wall of Rules and yeah, some of them are in the “don’t be an asshole, don’t hurt yourself or others” vein which, absolutely fair. But things like “dress properly” who are you to tell me what and how I cover my body with? “Don’t be promiscuous” wow thanks for the slut shaming my dudes. “Don’t smile foolishly/don’t smile too much”, “sit properly”, “don’t be too sad”, “don’t be too happy”. You’re telling me these are rules, not guidelines, not common sense stuff. RULES. You’re telling me people get punished for grinning or crying. Fuck off mate.

And we can’t forget the golden example of hypocrisy “Don’t talk to Wei Wuxian” so much for “don’t speak ill of others”.

Is my Western Girl showing? I’m sorry, I’m from Spain and I was raised by the guidelines “don’t be an asshole, don’t hurt yourself or others, don’t take anyone’s bullshit, live and let live, have courage and be kind, we will always love and support you” so some stuff in here is very very grating. I don’t have enough knowledge about the culture to discern if it is because of my modern sensibilities or because my culture is so different.

Oooooohhh I don’t like birds. I mean, I love crows, ravens and birds of prey to an unhealthy degree, but they keep their distance. The other day a pigeon flew into my building and decided that my (very dark) doorstep was the place to have a rest. I screamed like a banshee.

Hey, those two assholes at the back, get the fuck out of here.

LXC protective mode activated.

You will never convince me Meng Yao did not develop a monster crush right then and there.

Oh no. It’s this asshole.

Oh WangJi about to cut a bitch.

Drag him WWX.

MY’s protective mode activated.

And LXC is too done with this shit. Yep, NHS also thinks MY got a massive crush.

WQ aka Qishan Wen’s only braincell.

It’s the One Braincell Trio!

Notice me sempai! Omg JC’s faces.

This is where I dump all my canon-divergence AUs:

Meng Yao stays in Cloud Recesses. He and LXC keep gazing longingly into each other’s eyes.

NHS introduces him to the other two from the One Braincell Trio. WWX takes one look at him and goes “yep, you’re my friend now, I’m kneecapping anybody who fucks with you.” Because there’s no way he wouldn’t be sympathetic to MY after his own childhood (omg, both of them drunk, making terrible gallows’ humour jokes about living poor and mostly homeless while JC and NHS just listen horrified). JC goes into overprotective bro mode with MY. I mean, he still can’t emote for shit but he’s made very very sure that he will cut a bitch for MY and at least he knows MY has a brain, not like someone else he knows.

Shijie makes friends with MY because Shijie is a goddess and MY is so confused because how the hell does someone so kind exist? And she wants to be friends? And she doesn’t care at all about his past? What? MY.exe has stopped working.

Maybe JZX gets his head out of his ass and goes to talk to MY and warn him about what an asshole JGS is, because I refuse to think JZX doesn’t know it. Maybe MY hears him disparaging Shijie and decides that nope, the Jins can fuck right off every single one of them is a rude idiot; it’s ok with him because of his parentage (it’s not ok) but no one touches Shijie. The Yunmeng sibs is where it is at.

And that’s when he unleashes his full Slytherin powers on behalf of his new family. Because he does indeed have a fully functioning brain and shit is going to get really ugly really fast for all the people he loves if he doesn’t try and mitigate the damage somehow.

(A lot of mutual XiYao pinning is going on in the background because I live for the angst ok. LWJ fully approves of him as a brother-in-law tho)

A lot of terrible shit still happens because this is my AU and I want pain, but not only does JGS not have MY’s enormous brain on his side when he tries to seize power, he’s actively working against him (you can’t tell me MY wouldn’t get the kick of his life publicly bringing down and exposing his terrible father).

I’m sorry, back to the commentary.

This two idiots omg.

It’s WQ! Drag him WQ (gently)

I’m going to channel my ballet teacher here for a second: put your hair up! (You bunch of spider crabs, as she would call us)

I mean, JC’s hair is clearly in his face when he’s doing drills and, while the visual of all that dark hair whipping in the wind with the robes (another beef I have, they look like they’d catch on everything) is very dramatic I can assure you it’s fucking annoying. Plus it limits your visual field a lot. Again, I know jack about the culture and people can fly on swords here so why am I complaining about hair but let me live.

I used to have that much hair (then I got a pixie, now I’m growing it back out) and smacking yourself on the face with your own braid hurts.

Shijie knows what’s up with Jiang “I can only show anger” Cheng.

My one track mind when I saw the fish: Anisakis!

I think I would absolutely become a vegetarian if I got dropped in the past tbh. Not only is there no quality control of animal products (hello Trichinella), there’s also no way to do a proper cold storage (hello Salmonella). I’ve read and seen to many horror stories due to contaminated animal byproducts and, while vegetables pose their own risk (hello E. Coli) usually you only have to be thorough at washing and peeling to not have trouble.

5am wake up call without coffee. Fuck that noise.

Wei “I’m a petty gremlin” Wuxian.

I once called WWX a “mad scientist with ADHD” on an AO3 comment and I stand by that assessment.

Ok, but why the turtle caricature? It’s because turtles are “old and wise” like LQR? Is that the joke? Or are they laughing at WWX’s balls?

AW NO PAPERMAN.

“Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood? // Where, would you look if I asked you to get me a bezoar? // And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?” It’s pretty much the same energy. LQR is Ancient magic China’s version is Severus Snape down to the pettiness. He tries to catch WWX in a mistake, and when he can’t he dismisses his knowledge (look at Shijie’s face when he says WWX should not be proud to know what he does). He keeps pushing until WWX’s runs into a wall, then uses LWJ to “show him how it’s done” I mean, look how smug he looks and how uncomfortable everyone else is.

“Pity... clearly, fame isn't everything.”

(No, I don’t like LQR and I don’t like Severus Snape either; tragic past and sacrifices do not give you a pass to abuse children don’t @ me, I’m not interested in changing my mind)

And here is where all my “mad scientist with ADHD” hc stem from.

“No screaming in Cloud Recesses.” Screams LQR (yes, I’m 100% that bitch)

WEN NING IS HERE HI WN YOURE SO PRECIOUS.

But intercepting an arrow mid flight is some Geralt of Rivia Witcher bullshit right there.

Detective Wei strikes again.

The scenery is gorgeous my god.

Can we talk again about how this 16-year-old boy reacted to someone sneaking up on him by drawing his sword and attacking? That’s not fucking normal, that’s a common reflex in soldiers or people with PTSD.

(The Netflix translation has him calling LWJ “WangJi” and I die)

Thanks for reading!

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #mdzs live action #foxglove watches cql #foxglove watches the untamed #commentary #Foxglove rants #foxglove babbles #wei wuxian #wangxian #lan wangji #meng yao #lan xichen #jin guanyao #xiyao #episode 4

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fandom-necromancer · 5 years ago

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828. part 2

This was prompted by @thetruefor3stspirit! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

[part1]

That comment had been a weird one to hear from the human and Nines spent the remaining car ride to the precinct thinking about it. They hadn’t been working together for long, but long enough for Nines to confirm what others had told him about the man: He was rude, impolite, swore more than was good for him and still thought of androids as machines, as objects. He could play along well enough, but Nines still was met by derogatory terms and jokes about his kind. Gavin hated Connor to the bone, couldn’t care less about androids and Nines knew he was sorted in somewhere in between those two.

For this assessment the human’s words had been strangely out of character. Maybe he had misunderstood something? Maybe it was one of Gavin’s frequent self-hating jokes, telling him that no one would take him as someone as bad as himself. Yeah, that had to be it. Anything else was impossible.

They worked relentlessly on their case, Gavin checking the evidence at hand while Nines accessed public CCTV and how many TR models were currently active in Detroit. Unfortunately, none of them got any results from their research. The evidence they had wasn’t enough to find any trace of the murderer, even after a thorough autopsy of the android victim. The footage was conveniently deleted, looped or obstructed and there were far too many TRs to just go around asking for a spare, ripped out Thirium pump. If anything, that told them the TR in question wasn’t working alone as they had neither the ability nor the computing power to hack the cameras that fast and effectively. Except for if their suspect was a RK900, of course. Then all that would be possible with just one unit. Nines really wished it wasn’t the case.

‘Hey, Gavin, Nines? You’ve got a new crime-scene to look at. I would hurry, it’s still fresh.’ Gavin was immediately up and picked up his jacket from the chair. Nines followed shortly. It had been two days since the last one and everyone knew they had enough open cases already. That could only mean… ‘What’s it, Chris? Any details?’ ‘Ripped out Thirium pump.’ ‘You are shitting me’, Gavin uttered. ‘Nope. Same shit as last time.’ ‘Phck.’

‘Phck, please don’t let this be some serial killer, please!’ Nines was processing the information the DPD had already gathered, ignoring the emotional outburst from his partner. ‘Victim is another android. It looks… awfully much like our last victim. It is very much possible that they were murdered by the same person.’ ‘Shit. Detroit really doesn’t need this kind of bullshit.’ ‘Don’t worry, Detective. At least they only target androids.’ Gavin clenched his teeth. Nines had quickly lost his uncertainty around him that had clung to him the first days of them working together. Apparently, the machine had concluded his assessment of him in keeping his distance. And what was that last comment for? Phcking androids. ‘Yeah, at least they only target androids’, he hissed at the droid. What had he thought? Nines was just a prick like any other.

They arrived at the scene and as Gavin entered the kitchen of the house, he near gagged from the chemical stench. It hurt in his nose like spilled washing agent. Only then he could squint at the body. And holy shit, that was a lot of blood. The blue liquid gathered in a pool underneath the android. It was still visible though and that let his brain run at top speed. ‘This happened less than two hours ago, right? As the thirium is still liquid?’ ‘That’s right, Detective.’ ‘And the hole in his chest is the same size again?’ ‘Correct.’ ‘How long would you need to erase all camera footage?’ ‘Detective, I am not-‘ ‘How long?’ ‘If I wanted to be as thoroughly as our suspect, it really just depends on the amount of cameras.’ ‘Well, look out of the window, I immediately counted at least five in those shops.’ ‘I see thirteen.’ ‘Ugh, smartass. How long then?’ ‘More than two hours. But we would need a warrant and it could still be a TR-‘ ‘Phck warrants, if this is a serial killer, do you want to wait until the next android dies?’ ‘What is it to you, Detective.’ ‘Phcking… Would you just hack the shit? Come on, we can argue about it later and we don’t have to tell anyone. We’ll get that footage eventually anyways.’

Nines scowled at the man, who was already kneeling in front of the victim, putting on gloves to lift the android’s clothing. Then he started to find a way to access the footage. ‘No.’ ‘What is it?’ ‘The murderer is a RK900.’ ‘Shit. Where is he now? I will call in backup.’ ‘And what will you tell them how we found it out?’ ‘I’ll bullshit something for them, okay toaster? Just find him, quick!’

They had found the RK900 by hacking several surveillance cameras on their way and had to fight the android in the end to subdue him. Both had the bruises to proof just how strong a RK900 unit was and Gavin swore to never anger his partner the way he had had his fun with Connor. They interrogated the machine and tried to find out where the rest of them were hiding but were met by it stating his missions and how they were not authorised to be told the information they searched. The RK900 was stubborn in his programming and created enough problems for the police that two permanent android guards were positioned in front of his cell. Or the cell next to his first one he had smashed the reinforced glass of. The machine tried everything to get out of there, displaying his brute force and disregard of his own health. He had severed his own hand to cause an electric surge on the lock of the door and had always doubled his efforts when he sensed an android outside. He babbled on about deviancy being a plague, a malfunction and that all free androids had to be eliminated.

‘It’s a fucking Terminator’, people commented. ‘How could someone build something like that?’ ‘God, this is scary.’ No one seemed to notice how everyone subconsciously kept their distance to Nines after the day the android had freed himself a second time and not only broke the glass, but also an arm and a leg of the guards before Connor could send the android into forced stasis. No one noticed how the heart rates of everyone not over two metres away of Nines spiked. No one noticed how Nines tried to make himself smaller, to not move too much in the precinct and kept seated in front of his terminal, even during break time.

‘Hey, lighten up a little.’ Nines flinched at the sudden contact of a hand on his shoulder. Who still dared to- ‘You’ve been red all day, tin-can.’ Of course. ‘Don’t you have work to do?’, Nines grumbled, scowl deepening as the human sat himself on his desk awfully close. Yeah, we got it. You are not scared. You have a death wish anyway, thinking androids are below you. ‘I actually have, yes. But it’s time for a break and your disco-light is damn distracting.’ ‘You never take your break, Detective.’ ‘Yeah, but you do. So why is your metal ass still here and not over there with drunkard and poodle?’ ‘None of your business.’ ‘Fine. But you know, keeping your distance to them won’t solve your problem.’ ‘What problem?’, Nines asked, his question more a threat than anything. A threat the human ignored as always: ‘They are scared of you because you are the same damn model than the idiot in our holding cell. You know, it’s funny, you predicted that scenario last week and somehow missed the whole thing playing out in front of you.’

‘I saw it, Detective’, the android snarled. ‘Don’t you think I would be the first to notice?’ ‘Well, you are not doing anything about it, so… no?’ ‘What is your problem? Just lean back and enjoy the show. You might lose an android on the force over this. Thought that would be a win for you?’ ‘I think you are overexaggerating.’ ‘What? You being happy when I’m gone? I don’t think so.’ Gavin sighed and slipped from the table. ‘You are a real pain in the ass, you know? Continue like this and I really would be.’

He yawned and walked over to Connor’s desk and Nines thought that would be the end of it. Until he was surprised by two folders repeatedly being smacked together. Nines looked over to the detective, who kept on doing this with two of Connor’s open case files while marching down the bullpen. Then he let them sink to his respective sides and yelled: ‘Attention, dipshits! The android in the holding cell is the killing machine here. I thought the DPD would only hire people who had the braincells to show for it, but apparently you all cheated your end exam or something. My partner isn’t the phcking serial killer and you assholes better don’t treat him like one. I need a fully operational partner and I won’t let you all pull him down, understood?’ Gavin had all the attention of a shocked crowd screaming through the precinct loud enough the people in the lobby had to hear it and the human nodded into the silence. ‘Good.’ He had arrived at the entrance and casually threw both folders into a – thankfully empty – trashcan. The man added a ‘Phcking Kindergarten’ to his speech and exited the precinct.

Nines had been left to the attention of his co-workers after Gavin had went outside and couldn’t help but blush and turn around to his terminal. What the hell had the human thought doing this? An hour later Gavin came back, holding a coffee from a local coffeeshop. He strode through the precinct as if it was a day like any other and sat down at his table across from Nines, ignoring the whispered talks of everyone else. The android however heard them loud and clear. ‘What the hell happened to Reed?’ ‘I know right? He hates attention!’ ‘Yeah, more importantly he hates androids. Didn’t you hear what he did before the revolution?’ ‘No. What?’ ‘I heard he was one of those guys abusing thrown out androids.’ ‘Holy shit. They let someone like that work at the police?’ ‘I know, right?’

Nines shook his head trying to concentrate on the screen in front of him again.

‘I bet he did it because Nines is convenient for him. Just some android he can command around.’

‘Poor Nines, stuck with such an asshole.’

‘Must be the worst. I wouldn’t last a day partnered up to Reed.’

Nines looked over to the man silently sipping his coffee, completely focussed on the photos of the crime-scene laying before him. He really seemed as if his head was in a different world, being able to ignore all of this. He had to hear it. How could he filter it out that well? As Gavin looked up to type up the report for this case, Nines interrupted: ‘Why?’ ‘Hmm?’ The man put down his coffee and looked at him innocently as if he hadn’t just guilt-shamed all of the precinct to be nice to him. ‘Why did you do that?’ ‘What? Bought me a coffee? I had my break and well, I couldn’t exactly stay after-‘ ‘You know exactly what I mean, don’t evade it!’ ‘Why did I defend my partner, you mean? Didn’t think I had to explain that. I’m keeping my promise, tin-can. Even if not, partners are supposed to have each other’s back.’ ‘What promise?’ ‘Last week? In the car? Don’t tell me you forgot that already!’ ‘You meant that?’ ‘Did I mean tha- Of course I meant that! Why else would I say it? Did you think I was joking?’ ‘At least I didn’t think you were being serious. You hate androids.’ Gavin leaned back in his chair and sighed. ‘Listen, Nines. I don’t hate androids, okay? I used to demolish thrown out machines. I could as well had been vandalising bus-stops or graffiti dicks on walls. I can’t care less about androids, that’s right. I couldn’t care less for humans either. But I care about the persons around me and what is right and what is wrong. Why else should I choose to work at the police? It definitely isn’t the nice work atmosphere and the great retirement policy.’

Nines just stared at the man, who quickly evaded his eyes. That was the most honest the human had been to him so far. Or had Nines just never noticed it? He thought back to their talk in the car. Had he really meant every word he had said? In the lights of his recent actions he might have. And Nines realised the chances weren’t too bad that he had let himself become a victim of prejudice. Everyone had told him the detective was an asshole, someone who hated androids and would rather see one in a ditch than save one on the job. He had been wrong to believe them. Gavin was a good partner, caring and compassionate about his job.

‘Thank you’, Nines said in all honesty, thinking back to what he had thrown at the human back in the car.

I don’t want to be pegged as someone like you.

‘Hmm?’ The human looked up at him again and Nines couldn’t shake the feeling Gavin had already been back at thinking about their case, not even bothering what Nines’ evaluation of him was once he made clear how he thought about the android.

‘I think I would be honoured to be put in a box with people like you.’

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed #THEY ARE FLUFFY IDIOTS #Sorry #Miscommunication + good communication is my guilty pleasure #selective attention is something I have too Gavin #Hey do you remember that one person last lab course?#Hmm u need to be more specific...#Hmm they were really interested in weird instruments #boy or girl?#I don't phcking know #Gavin banging the folders together: I aint got no functional partner because of y'all now you aint get a break cause of me #Also rip Connor having to fish his papers out of there #Gavin's just petty like this

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