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g1rld1ary · 7 months ago

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you never disappointed me - part five

part one part two part three four

➻ synopsis: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader ; luke tries to apologise for the party, but it takes you a while to forgive him (10 things I about you AU)

➻ word count: 3753

➻ warnings: ooc/kind of loser!luke, ooc silena, she/her pronouns used for reader, swearing

➻ did this take a month? yes. am I sorry? yes. will it happen again? absolutely

TAGLIST: @myxticmoon @wicca-void @leeknows-wife @thekittyxo-blog @number-onekidqueen @instabull @slaybestieslay946 @sflame15-blog @yourfavmiki @ivory-sage @caramelandvenus @chasebeth @maraudersmyloves losergirlcrowley amortencjja wisecrownpaper iammightsadyall odeasforyou rlqfpdl

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You were humiliated. You’d spent all night crying, mortification setting in thick over your body as you lay on your bed. However, despite how embarrassed you were, you were mostly angry. Angry at Luke for acting so affectionate, for making you believe that he really liked you then pulling away at the last second. Angry at yourself. Angry that after all these years, all it took was one stupid boy to bring down all your walls; angry that you let yourself be led into this situation.

And so that morning, instead of letting yourself mope around about it anymore, you picked yourself up with a new determination. You were angry, and everyone was going to know about it. Your braids were pulled extra tight, not in the mood to deal with flyaways or gentleness, and the smudged eyeliner around your eyes served as a reminder of the tears you’d wasted.

There was a much shorter line at the Lava Wall than usual. Although skipping out on activities could earn you some shitty chores or revoked dessert privileges, your bad mood had seeped into the whole area, practically lowering the temperature around you. You only had a few newer campers dare to enter your territory, and it took a Herculean effort to not snap at them for even coming near you.

Luke watched you from afar, hidden away in one of his typically safe smoking spots. He was trying to gauge your mood, see if anything was fixable. His prospects currently looked grim. He watched in anticipation as a young girl made a dumb mistake. Luke thought it wouldn’t have been her fault — Chiron had made him tour her around camp only a few weeks ago and she’d been pretty beat up before she got to camp. He watched you yank her off the Lava Wall moments before disaster, and held his breath as you both seemed to falter. The girl looked like she was going to burst into tears, and your face was unreadable, which was usually not a good thing. Just as he thought you were going to take out all your feelings on the scared kid, you crouched down to her level, thumb wiping away her spilled tears. You spoke softly to her, bringing her down from an impending breakdown with a gentleness that didn’t often emerge at camp.

The interaction gave Luke some hope, maybe your heart hadn’t totally closed off. That thought was quashed, however, when minutes later you ripped Travis Stoll a new one for being an ‘egotistical dickhead’ as he fooled around on the wall. Luke was genuinely shocked at the volume which came from your body, he could have mistaken it for a conch horn. Even Travis seemed a little taken aback at your outburst. Usually your bad moods were pretty easy to avoid — stay out of your way and you stayed away from others. Clearly today, though, you had anger to get out of your system, and you weren’t hesitant in expressing it.

You were still upset by lunchtime, and your day only got worse.

“Dance for me, cowboy,” Katy Gardener yelled, evil grin shining across the Dining Pavilion. You kept your head down and ignored it, hurrying to your table. A body popped up in front of you, blocking your path.

“What do we owe you for the table dance, babe?” Ethan crooned, and if you were in a slightly more private setting you would have decked him. You grumbled out a “Fuck you,” and shoved past him towards Drew, knowing that at least she wouldn’t reproach you in public. Ethan clearly wasn’t done with you yet, though, and began an all too innocent conversation with Mr D.

“Why don’t you ask how her weekend was, Mr D?” He said, throwing a casual glance over to you.

“Unless she kicked the crap out of your dumb ass, Elton, I don’t wanna hear it.” You could have kissed Mr D, and then immediately recoiled at the thought. Ethan’s embarrassed expression was enough to please you though, and you sunk into your meal silently, but at least not active with anger.

After lunch Luke tried to apologise to you, or explain himself at least. He knew you were upset, but he was still feeling good about himself. He had noble intentions, and was doing objectively the right thing by not taking advantage of you when you were drunk. None of these sentiments were expressed, though, when you stormed right past him, making sure to land an extra aggressive stomp on his foot as you went. Chris couldn’t hold back his loud laugh, clapping Luke on the back in semi-sympathy as he headed to his own next activity. Luke stood dumbly in his spot for a few minutes, unsure of how exactly to proceed. Clearly you were more upset than he thought.

Your own next activity was Ancient Greek with Mr D. You didn’t know why he taught it at all given you personally thought he was hardly fluent, but it was one activity you actually didn’t mind, especially as you got older. Whilst the younger kids had lessons focused on getting used to the alphabet and language, the elder campers who were more fluent had more traditional ‘english’ classes — learning about texts and languages, only in Ancient Greek so the dyslexia didn’t slow you down as much.

You shot Mr D a tightlipped smile as you walked into the pavilion, hoping to get by the lesson unscathed, though you didn’t have much hope. Both Ethan and Luke were in this class, and you really didn’t want to see either (though Luke usually skipped, so he wasn’t such a pressing issue).

Just your luck, Ethan was already in his unassigned assigned seat behind you, filling in the campers who didn’t attend the party about your escapades. You just rolled your eyes, trying to seem somewhat graceful about your own actions, but the leering eyes of your peers was making it supremely difficult. For once you did regret not making many friends at camp — if you had, maybe your humiliation wouldn’t be such a hot topic, but the very presence of your class reminded you why you had no interest in being friends with them.

The room thankfully quietened down when Mr D walked in, the whole camp somewhat wary of his temper. He started the lesson: Shakespeare. You perked up a bit from your slouched position in the chair. Whilst school wasn’t exactly your strong point with the ADHD and dyslexia, Shakespeare was something you actually kind of understood. When you were younger your Dad had taken you and Silena to a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and you’d loved it ever since. Shakespeare translated into Greek was maybe your dream.

Mr D started talking about sonnets, and you got the distinct impression that he didn’t totally know what he was talking about — or just didn’t care enough to go into any detail. You figured that was more correct since he was the god of theatre, but you could never be totally sure with Dionysus. Regardless, he’d moved on from explaining the basic form of a sonnet and had set you a project: write your own version of Shakespeare’s sonnet 141. You sat straighter in your seat, unable to hide the small smile that had crept onto your face. You raised your hand, slightly offended by Mr D’s eye roll.

“Yes, Miss I-have-an-opinion-about-everything?” He sighed, but you persevered nonetheless.

“Do you want it in iambic pentameter?” You asked.

“You’re not going to fight me on this?” He hesitated, and you revelled in the fact that you could still surprise him after all these years.

“No, I think it’s a really good assignment.”

“You’re just messing with me, right Barton?”

“Beauregard,” You corrected for the thousandth time, “But no. I’m really excited to write it.” You picked uncomfortably at your cargos as the class watched your exchange.

“Go see Chiron.”

“What?”

“Get out!” He yelled, not quite angry but you weren’t going to be the one to test him. There were rumours of previous campers who’d been turned into dolphins and you did not want to continue that legacy. You wandered out of Greek class, still slightly confused at what had just happened, and headed back to your cabin, not bothering to go see Chiron. With the cabin to yourself you tried to get a start on Mr D’s project, but inspiration was lacking and you resorted to taking a nap instead.

The rift between you and Luke became public knowledge at that night’s campfire. Without even realising it you’d started sitting with him most nights (or rather he sat with you, bothering you until you submitted to a conversation). Then suddenly you were avoiding him like the plague, spitting out a harsh “Get fucked, Castellan,” when he called your name softly, almost begging you to talk to him. You were never one to back down from your decisions though, and left him in the dust, taking a seat next to Clarisse. You could tell even Chris could see something was seriously wrong as he pressed a kiss to Clarisse’s hand and disappeared somewhere, presumably to sit with Luke.

You didn’t even really know why you were at the campfire in the first place. You’d been only a handful of times before you knew Luke, and now you didn’t want to know him yet here you were. Clarisse tried to keep you entertained with her quiet comments — which did admittedly make you snort a laugh once or twice, but you were otherwise miserable. You sure as hell weren’t going to participate or chat to anyone, and you were really regretting not just pursuing your usual routine of getting to the top of the Aphrodite cabin for stargazing. Plus, you could feel Luke’s eyes following your every move, and you were getting fed up with the kicked puppy act.

Your final straw was the singing — why was everyone in Camp Half-Blood so obsessed with singing? The second some douchebag from Apollo brought out a guitar you were done, launching yourself out of your seat and stomping back towards your cabin for some peace and quiet. Just as you were crossing the threshold out of the amphitheatre a hand grabbed your arm and you whirled around to face the culprit, ripping your arm out of his embrace.

“Touch me again, Castellan, and I swear to the Gods I will make sure you have no hands to use.”

“Look, I just wanted—”

“I don’t care, Castellan. We don’t always get what we want, do we?” You knew you were being mean, but you frankly didn’t care. When Luke was shocked into silence, mouth slightly open as he searched for anything to say, you took the opportunity to leave him in the dust, trying to keep your confident walk even as your legs were shaking slightly.

“Bro, what did you do to her?” Beckendorf approached Luke up near the exit of the amphitheatre.

“I didn’t do anything,” Luke snapped, before taking a beat to calm himself down, “She would’ve been too drunk to remember.”

“But the plan was working!”

“What do you care? I thought you wanted out.” A slight blush crept on Beckendorf’s face, accompanying the dumb grin.

“Yeah, well I did, but, um, that was until she kissed me.” Despite his own bad luck, Luke couldn’t help but be happy for Beckendorf, slightly hating the fact that the lame younger boy had grown on him significantly. He let Charles ramble about the kiss for a bit despite his decreasing interest in the conversation, very glad when Percy joined them.

“So I talked to Clarisse,” He said, and Luke knew by his tone the news wasn’t going to be good. Beckendorf was still hopeful (or just naive) though, and pestered him for more details. “’Hates him with the fire of a thousand suns’ is the direct quote.” All three of them grimaced, yet Beckendorf persisted.

“Hey, we don’t know. She might just need a day to cool off.” Luke thought back to the bruise you’d left on his foot earlier in the day.

“Maybe two.”

The Aphrodite kids were all in archery except you, who’d claimed to be sick to get out of it. So, Silena was on her own and vulnerable to Ethan approaching.

“Hey there, Cupid.” He popped up behind her, not noticing the grimace creeping onto Silena’s face.

“Hi, Ethan.” She refused to look at him, focusing instead on aiming her arrow.

“I want to talk about the end of summer dance.” Silena rolled her eyes as the rest of her siblings pretended to mind their own business despite their innate need to know what was going on.

“Look, you know the deal. I can’t go if my sister doesn’t.” The end of summer dance was exactly what it sounded like; a big party for all the kids at camp to celebrate the three months they’d spent together and send off the kids who weren’t staying all year round. Though the actual dance was supervised, it was a well known secret that all of the older campers stayed out through the night drinking and dancing, and most of the folk around camp turned a blind eye for the night. Usually, your dad would pick you up just before the party started, which would inevitably result in a fight between you and Silena. Now though, Silena wasn’t quite so against leaving early, wanting out of the boy drama she’d found herself in.

“Your sister is going,” Ethan said, puffing out his chest as if it made him look more manly. Silena’s surprise was genuine.

“Since when?”

“Let’s just say I’m taking care of it,” Was all Ethan said before walking away, confident swagger in his step as he passed in front of your siblings, and Silena wondered how many of them were holding back the urge to let go of their arrow as he crossed them.

Still, Ethan had to make good on his word, so he found himself approaching Luke again. Rummaging around in his pockets, Ethan presented him with 200 dollars in cash. Luke raised an eyebrow, not bothering with words.

“This should take care of everything for the dance. I’m sure you don’t own anything presentable so this is for a new outfit, flowers for her, whatever. As long as she comes to the dance.” Luke stared at him, and was disgusted at what he was feeling. He might’ve been growing a conscience, something that would be greatly inconvenient for his life as the scary, unsociable older guy at camp.

“I’m sick of your game,” He said finally, pushing the cash back towards Ethan, who frowned. Luke got the distinct feeling he’d never been told no before — except by you, of course. Ethan exaggerated a huff and reached back into his pocket, pulling out one more hundred dollar bill. Luke faltered. He was sick of hurting you, but three hundred dollars was a lot of money. And without any way of making income as a year-rounder it was only more attractive. So Luke swallowed his pride and his morals and took the money. Though, getting you to ever consider going out with him again was basically a hopeless case.

So Luke began his new quest of getting you to speak to him again. He’d shown up to the Lava Wall full of audacity and enthusiasm, and waited patiently in line as you helped the other kids, pretending you couldn’t see him. When it was clear he wasn’t going to leave — or have his turn on the climbing wall — until you acknowledged him, you rolled your eyes aggressively.

“What are you doing here?” You snapped, gesturing for the Athena kid standing behind Luke to have her turn.

“I want to improve my time,” He smiled, and you could tell he thought he was being cute. You only partly secretly agreed.

“You’re so…” You trailed off, unable to find a word appropriate for your audience of children.

“Charming?” He asked, and there was that smile again. “Wholesome?”

“Unwelcome,” You settled on, turning back to your duties.

“You’re not as mean as you think you are, you know that?” You froze for a second, then told the kid waiting to start to hold on until you could get rid of him.

“And you’re not as badass as you think you are.”

“Ohh, someone still has their panties in a twist!”

“Don’t for one minute think that you had any effect whatsoever on my panties,” You scoffed, subconsciously adjusting your denim shorts.

“Then what did I have an effect on?” Despite the two of you clearly arguing, there was a surprisingly vulnerable look in his eyes. You ignored it.

“Other than my upchuck reflex? Nothing.” You turned on your heel, making it clear the conversation was over.

You were absent from that night’s campfire, which Luke was grateful for since Percy and Beckendorf had much to say about the plan, none good.

“So she’s still majorly pissed,” Percy started and Luke snorted.

“Yeah, got that, genius.”

“Well the question is, how do you stop a girl from being mad?” Beckendorf asked, and Luke could only cringe at how they sounded. With the way the three of them were talking, any passerby would surely think they were three prepubescent virgins. From next to them, Annabeth sighed harshly.

“Look, Luke. You embarrassed her, her ego’s taken a hit. Devastating for any girl, especially damaging for a daughter of Aphrodite. You need to get on her level; even the score and embarrass yourself for her.” The boys sat back, stunned. One by one they processed the instructions, nodding slowly. Thank the Gods for Annabeth Chase was the only thing Luke could think.

With much planning and a little bit of outside involvement (Luke swapped some of his chores with Clarisse’s to get her to agree), the plan was set in motion.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. We can make fun of the little kids singing Disney songs?” Clarisse lay on your bed as you cleaned your bunk area and you looked at her skeptically.

“Why tonight? We never go to the sing alongs.”

“Dunno,” She shrugged, “Something to do. Plus, summer’s almost over and soon we won’t get to spend any time together.” You grinned, reaching over to pinch her cheek lightly.

“Aw,” You cooed, “I knew you liked me deep down.” Clarisse swatted your hand away but smiled nonetheless, and the two of you stayed huddled up on your bunk gossiping until dinner.

Swayed by Clarisse’s begging, the two of you ended up at the sing along, much too close to the front for your liking. You struggled through the karaoke songs, only staying to commentate to Clarisse. You’d heard one too many awful renditions of classic childhood pop songs when the amphitheatre went quiet, no one knowing who was meant to be leading the next song.

“You’re just too good to be true,” The voice rang out into the night, unaccompanied voice making you gasp immediately in recognition. This was your favourite song, but hardly anyone knew that. It was the song you used to dance to with your dad when you were a kid, before you even knew you were a demigod.

“Can’t take my eyes off of you.” People were murmuring now, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from and who it belonged to — no one who’d sung before for sure.

“You feel like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much,” You gasped again as you saw the figure emerge from the darkness. Luke Castellan was singing at the camp sing along. You couldn’t hold in your giggle as he continued to sing a cappella, coming into the light of the stage. He seemed to be searching for something though, eyes roving over the audience.

“Can’t take my eyes off of you.” His eyes locked with yours; he found what he was looking for. Before you could dwell on the incredibly cheesy act, music swelled to life, the Apollo musicians seemingly having learnt the piece beforehand. You wondered how much planning went into this. Your joy only increased as Luke began to dance; dorky, outdated moves that made you laugh out loud — a sound so unfamiliar that a few campers had to look back to check it was really you. You laughed and clapped along with everyone else, thoroughly enjoying Luke embarrassing himself in front of the whole camp.

The performance had to end at some point though, and you found yourself rising out of your seat to give a standing ovation, whooping and cheering along with everyone else. By chance you caught a glance of Clarisse’s face to see her already watching you, a satisfied look evident on her face. You were confused for a second before a memory struck you — a late night on the roof trading drunk secrets and stories where you told her about your childhood connection to Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You. You were floored, and also kind of flattered. You knew it would have taken a lot for Luke to go to Clarisse for help — she was scary when she was pissed, and she was definitely pissed at Luke after the party.

You felt that little ball of light start to flicker in your chest again, and you were scared. But more than that you were excited. Despite everything else about you, you were a daughter of Aphrodite and a teenage girl, and the most romantic thing to ever happen at camp just happened to you. You guessed Luke had probably grovelled enough, and you would’ve told him that immediately if he hadn’t been swarmed by campers congratulating or laughing at him. Deciding you couldn’t put yourself in the middle of that crowd, you settled on telling him in the morning.

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xxmrs-waynexx · 1 year ago

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Young Again

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x wife!reader (batmom)

Warnings: Fluff, comfort, Bruce is slightly OOC but it's for the plot.

Ever since Bruce came back from his latest mission, you tried your best to help him relax. He was always on edge and very clearly tense. This man was not doing okay this time around and it was stressing you out too. No matter how hard you tried, all the noises, movement, and whatever else happening in the manor was just too much for him. You assumed that whatever had happened with Scarecrow must’ve had something to do with fear toxin.

So, you confided in Alfred. Who else would know your husband better than yourself? The two of you sat outside drinking tea and chatting.

“I just don’t know what else to do. He can’t stay in the cave all day planning and checking every news source for trouble, but he also isn’t able to help with the chaos of all the kids,” you explained.

Alfred thought for a moment before sighing, “Why don’t you two stay home tomorrow? I will go out with the young ones and be back by dinner time.” The older man gave you a kind and reassuring smile. “He will be back to himself before we know it. I have learned that sometimes the best way to make any progress is to take a break. Especially for master Bruce.”

And so you did. The next morning, you were sure to let Bruce sleep in. You didn’t mind being held for a bit longer than usual. By lunchtime, you two had finally pulled yourselves out of bed. It had been months since you’d last cooked. Usually, you helped Alfred but being on the PTA for your kids’ school was getting very busy as it neared winter break.

Cooking was something you used to do with Bruce in college. It used to be a fun bonding activity for you two in the communal kitchen in your dorm building. You’d avoided asking him if he wanted to since you knew he had a lifetime ban, courtesy of Alfred.

As you looked in the pantry, Bruce came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “I just had the greatest idea on earth,” he mumbled in his deep, sleepy voice.

“Listen, if this is about your plan for Penguin, I already told you that it was good and that-”

“No,” he chuckled softly. “I think we should cook dinner for the family. They’ve probably had a long day and it’s the least we can do.”

His smile is what made you agree. You knew the reasoning was far beyond what he said. He wanted to relive the ‘good old days.’ And if Alfred wasn’t home to tell him no?

____

The kitchen was an absolute disaster. Dishes and ingredients were scattered all over the countertops. You did your best to help keep things in order, but you did have a little enjoyment for the chaos. Your combined laughter filled the kitchen and it was like you two were young and new to each other again.

“Okay, Bruce, now the flour. Not too much. Just use what’s left of the bag in there,” you said, back turned to his figure looking into the pantry.

“There’s just the unopened sack,” he said gruffly, pulling it out of the pantry and slamming it on the counter.

“...Alfred would buy the biggest bag known to man,” you let out a soft chuckle. However, upon turning around, you saw that perhaps slamming a bag of flour onto the counter was not quite the best idea. “Bruce!” Your eyes were wide with both amusement and shock.

Bruce stood in front of you, eyes squeezed shut, covered in flour. “I didn’t think-”

“No, you didn’t,” you laughed. You grabbed a wet cloth and began wiping off his face.

He wrapped his arms around you and you screamed, “NO! Bruce!”

He chased you around the kitchen with flour in his hands, ready to throw when close enough. “Why do you get to stay clean and I don’t?” He asked, grinning like a madman. This was done with the same amount of energy as your yearly snowball fights- though usually you were on his side.

Once you realized the kitchen was too small to stay away from him, you bolted to the family room. “Bruce! Stop!” your laughs clouded your shouts. “You’re crazy!”

“Yeah?” he stalked you through the living room, the flour in his hands getting everywhere.

“Alfred is going to kill us- No, you,” you laughed.

“Who cares? It was fun. I feel young again,” he told you finally reaching you. He had you cornered between a bust of who-knows-who-that-guy-was and the wall.

Dinner was going to be fun.

#dc imagine #dc #dc comics #dc fanfic #batman #batman fandom #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x wife!reader #batman x reader

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hellfirecvnt · 7 months ago

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First Trip

Lee Russell x Fem!Reader pt. 1

Summary: You're the new secretary at NJH. You've caught Lee's eye, but disaster strikes before anything can be done about it.

Read part two here. // Part three here. // Part four here. // Part five here.

The bright morning sun rays crack through the window into your small house in the new town you've just moved to. It was your very first night in your new home and today, you start your new job. Your goal was to be employed by a school and you achieved that goal, even if it wasn't the position you'd hoped for. You applied as a teacher for a plethora of subjects, but the only open positions they had were in the office.

You pull into the parking lot of your new home school, North Jackson High School. You exhale the nerves out of your body and check yourself one more time in the mirror before stepping out of the car and making your stroll inside. As you get closer, you notice a group of students surrounding something in front of the school. You hear a man demanding that they disperse, but you can't see him past the crowd.

"You. Who are you?" A round man with pushed-back hair points to you the second you step through the door.

"I'm the new Secretary. You must be Mr. Russell," you say, smiling and extending your hand to him.

"Strike one. Fuck no, I'm not Lee Russell." The man speaks sharply.

"Oh, I- I'm sorry. You're Mr. Neal Gamby." Once you correct his name, he meets your handshake. "Did you say 'Strike one?'"

"Keep up with me, Mrs. Y/L/N. I don't repeat myself. Percival left a pile of fucking horse shit in the front drop-off lane." The strict man guides you into the office, ignoring your question entirely.

"Um, it's Miss, actually. I'm not married." You quicken your walk behind Gamby, already reading him for the pretentious leader he is. At least now you know what the hype was outside.

"Me neither. My ex-wife's a bitch. This is your desk." He quickly points to the desk at the front of the office where an empty chair sits next to a discarded name plaque that reads "Janice Smith."

"Thank you, sir. I'll be sure to-" When you look up, he's already walking away, continuing a tour you thought would end right here.

"This is my office," his voice is faint as he disappears behind a corner. You drop your things off at the desk and speedily catch him down the hall. "This is Mr. Russell's office." He intrusively swings the door open to an empty office. Leaving you without a face to the name Lee Russell.

"Thank you, Mr. Gamby. I-" he cuts you off.

"Now the last secretary was shit. She was terrible. She was so bad," he starts, but a passing teacher cuts in.

"She started a six-figure business and quit on you, Gamby."

"That's not true. Regardless, I expect better from you Ms. Y/L/N. Don't fuck me over." He disappears into his office and you begin to settle into your desk. You remove the remnants of Ms. Smith and replace them with photos of your pets. You're a well-organized person and a quick learner. You make it a personal goal to give that severe asshat nothing to complain about. Anything to make the job less boring.

Lunchtime rolls around and you find yourself a little lost and even overwhelmed as you enter the booming volume of the cafeteria. You glance around the room, noticing the faculty table seems a little full. It's only your first day, and you haven't had time to introduce yourself to anyone with Mr. Gamby making odd, redundant requests on a two-minute basis.

You step through the line and purchase an apple before making your way back to your desk in the front office. It'd be nicer to sit somewhere quieter anyway. As you cross the lunch room, you're oblivious to the pair of deep brown eyes you've caught across the room. Lee spots your lanyard and immediately turns to face Neal.

"Who the fuck is that, Gamby?" His voice is a low whisper. Mr. Gamby looks over and watches you as you exit through the double doors.

"That's the new office secretary, Ms. Y/L/N," Gamby answers dryly and returns his attention to his sandwich.

"You didn't tell me you were hiring anybody yet," his voice kind of fades off as he's lost in thought.

"Yeah well, she applied to be a teacher, but we're about overrun by those fuckers," Neal says, met by sneers from the teachers sitting within earshot.

"So you've got her doing desk bitch-work?"

"The fuck are you acting so offended for?" Neal's resting face is one with arched brows, but one arches even higher now as he questions his friend.

"Forget about it, Gamby. She married? Did you see a ring?" Lee glances at the door again, wondering if you plan to come back.

"No, she said she isn't married. And why are you asking? Has your divorce even been finalized yet?"

"Yes, idiot. It's been finalized for a month if you ever fuckin' listen to me." Lee reaches over and disrupts something on Neal's lunch tray. Neal swats his hands away.

"Knock it off! Why are you even focused on ladies and women when we're supposed to be concocting a plan against Dr. Brown?"

"Would you lower your fucking voice, Gamby? Jesus!" Mr. Russell hisses as he follows the other vice principal out of the cafeteria. As the two men round the corner, they come face to face with their higher up. Principal Brown.

"Gamby, there you are. I need you to head up to the office and show Ms. Y/L/N how to log into her staff portal." The woman is dominant and sure in her words. Mr. Gamby sighs before nodding complacently and heading up front. Lee nods to Dr. Brown and quickly follows behind his coworker.

"So what'd you have in mind?" Lee whispers as they walk, coming up quickly on the desk you reside at.

"Now who needs to lower their voice? It's Y/L/N's first day on the job and you want her to hear us plotting against the boss?" Gamby scolds him, right in front of you. You stare at both of them with wide eyes, silent.

"Ms. Y/L/N, I'm Lee Russell. It's wonderful to meet you, darlin'." Lee reaches a charismatic hand across the desk and you happily shake it.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Russell." You smile warmly, hoping to make a good first impression. Suddenly, the phone rings and you're quick to answer, allowing Neal and Lee to slip back into their bickering.

"Well, now she definitely knows something's up, dick head. Don't piss her off before we get Belinda fired," Lee whispers harshly.

"Um, excuse me, Mr. Gamby?" You gain their attention. "Your daughter's shoes seemed to have broken or something during gym class. She needs you to bring her a new pair."

"God damn it, Janelle." Gamby slams his fist on your desk before bolting out the door. You watch him leave, your eyes wide with shock.

"Yeah, he's on his way I think. Thank you, goodbye." You hang up the phone and return your attention to Lee. "Could you please help me log into this faculty portal thing?"

"Yeah, sure, doll. Let's see what we can do." He joins you on the other side of your desk and takes a knee next to your computer chair. You sit and allow him to walk you through the steps. He's so close and the entire time he's next to you, his pulse races. You finish setting up your account and thank him for his help.

"It's no problem at all, Ms. Y/L/N," he smiles, basking in the interaction with you. "You new to town?"

"Yeah, I am. I just spent my first night in my new house last night," you chuckle nervously. Still accepting the new life you're making for yourself.

"First night in? Why, you need to be shown around! You probably don't even know where to find the good bars." He gushes, charismatically.

"That'd be pretty nice if you're offering, Mr. Russell," you smile. He wants so badly to solidify those plans, but it's risky business being your higher-up and saying these things out in the open. Especially with how many people hate him and would gladly report him.

"Let's put a pin in that." He smiles brightly. "I'd love to stay here and talk with you, honey, but I'm afraid I have to run a few errands."

"Is it the plotting?" You ask, flat out.

"Yeah... It's the plotting," he sighs, shaking his head as he walks down the hallway to his office. You giggle as he disappears from view. You're no stranger to the inner workings of a dysfunctional school staff, it's entertaining to just be a secretary instead of a teacher in the middle of it.

After a while, Mr. Gamby returns from delivering new shoes to his daughter. He stomps through the door mumbling something along the lines of "Why the fuck Gail couldn't do it..."

"Hello, welcome back, Mr. Gamby." You wave, greeting him with a smile.

"Grab that ISS Board and follow me," he demands and you do as he says. He assigns the in-school suspension students to clean up duty for the "prank" left outside by the rival school's team this morning.

The next day, a pep rally is organized and Dr. Brown makes a hell of a speech, igniting school spirit all across the student body. You're just happy to be there, but you can see Neal and Lee leaning in to whisper things to each other. You only catch a small snippet from Lee.

"Look at Brown. She's all fucked out," he cackles with Gamby. You know he's speaking about her exhausted, spaced-out appearance, but hearing him use that phrase causes your cheeks to redden.

Throughout the day, you catch yourself attempting to eavesdrop on the two vice principals. Not to intervene or disrupt, but just for the tea. It's boring up front and they seem to know how to stay busy. You don't gather much. Tonight is the big game, and Lee and Neal have been out of sight, out of mind for a while now.

The day comes to an end and the students begin to prepare for the biggest game of the year. Gamby obnoxiously piles into the front office and summons you from your desk, demanding that you follow him with haste.

"We have to stop Mr. Russell from poisoning the North Jackson football team," he grunts as the two of you speedwalk through the corridors.

"He's doing what?!" But your question is left unanswered as the two of you enter the football field. Mr. Gamby quickly spots Mr. Russell across the grass and takes off at full speed after him. You try your best to keep up without exerting yourself.

"Lee! Stop right there. Don't do this," Gamby barges into the locker room behind him after the short pursuit.

"Don't do what? The thing I've already just done? I just did it," Lee shrugs, tossing the small, empty bottle of LSD at Gamby. The two men bicker for a moment before a match of tug of war breaks out between them over the large vat of dosed water meant for the players.

"I command you to let go!" Gamby thunders just before their hands slip, and all three of you become doused in the liquid.

"You fucking idiot! This shit gets absorbed through the skin!" Lee wails.

"What?!" The two men scramble out of the locker room and attempt to flee campus before the drugs kick in.

"Just get the fuck out of here!" Lee shoves Neal out the door and they leave you there, still in shock. The longer you wait, the more it sets in that you're going to trip on school grounds and there's no way around it. You take the drugs by the reigns and attempt to chase down your bosses.

By the time you find them, they're standing under the bleachers holding their arms out in front of two confused students like they have some sort of superpowers.

"You two," you say, voice barely trembling as you attempt to hold it together. You point at the students. "Get the fuck out of here and I won't let them write you up." The two kids nod and flee the scene. As they do, Neal and Lee raise their extended hands, gazing at each other with mouths agape.

"You two," you grab them both by the sleeve and turn them to face you. "This your first trip?" They look at each other and then back at you before nodding out of sync.

"North Jackson High Wins!" A voice booms over the field intercom. Gamby's eyes fall shut in relief, but Lee's just staring at you. It'd be hard to believe he heard the announcer at all with how he gazes into your eyes.

"You got beautiful eyes," Lee mumbles.

"You two need to come with me. We have to get out of here until this shit wears off." You take both of their hands and swiftly guide them back inside the school. You take refuge in the Circle room and place the privacy cover over the door window. "Here. Eat some popcorn. Calm the fuck down and maybe we'll all still have a job tomorrow."

"Ms. Y/L/N, I'm impressed by your initiation." Mr. Gamby misspeaks, staring intently into the pattern on the rug where he sits on a bean bag.

"Thank you, sir. I would've preferred not to be drugged by my bosses."

"Hey, now. Don't go around sayin' shit like that or we're all fucked," Lee chimes in.

"Don't start with me, Mr. Russell. You two were using The Force on some 9th graders who will no doubt have that information spread to everybody before 6 AM tomorrow !" You protest his light scolding. He chuckles at your response, unable to form a sensible response after that.

For the rest of the time in that room, you toss random activities at them to keep them busy. Sometimes it's just showing them the rug again if they've forgotten about it. Once you all come down, you're tired and sore, desperate to get home. The game is long over and the crowd has been gone for hours. The school is empty save for the three of you.

"I'll see you both tomorrow," you grumble, crumpling into your car.

"See you tomorrow, Y/L/N." Gamby waves you off as you pull out of the parking lot.

"She saved your ass tonight, Gamby," Lee smirks.

"She saved our asses tonight, Russell. Guess I didn't do too bad of a job hiring someone by myself, huh? Asshole." Neal settles into his car and pulls off, leaving Lee to sit in his car for a while.

He goes home to an empty house these days. He hasn't dated in 20 years. He wonders if there's any point in even looking at you that way after the mess he orchestrated tonight. He can't deny that your quick thinking saved their skin. You asked if it was their first time doing hallucinogens, and he wonders how often you partake to have been so coherent while they were melting face.

His ride home is quiet and he almost forgets to be pissed that North Jackson won the game and made Belinda look like a goddamn superwoman. He spends most of the journey thinking about you. It follows him home all the way up until he closes his eyes.

Suddenly work isn't so bad. He looks forward to seeing you tomorrow.

#Lee Russell #Vice Principals #Neal Gamby #Lee Russell fanfiction #Lee Russell Vice Principals #vice principals fanfiction #hbo max #max #walton goggins #danny mcbride #hellfirecvnt

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feelbokkie · 2 months ago

Text

L♡VE IN F♡CUS | Chapter 12

PAIRING: idol!Changbin x fem reader

WARNINGS: mention of food and eating, swearing

GENRE: smau, crack, angst, fluff

P♡V: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

SUMMARY: Amateur concert photographer Y/n has recently been promoted to junior music journalist. Her first assignment? An exposé on the popular Kpop boy group, Stray Kids. Spending an entire tour doing in depth interviews with eight men seems simple enough, but one member isn't exactly open to the idea. Will Y/n be able to break down the walls around his heart, or will her big break turn into a big disaster?

TAGLIST: closed

W♡RD C♡UNT: 6,009

A/N: we only have a few more chapters of the ones that I pre wrote to last when I think this hiatus will last so I spread the releases of these chapters a bit so they can last a bit. sorry for the wait.

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

You mindlessly scroll through Twitter while you wait for Changbin to join you for breakfast. Your notebook lays open next, ready to add any last-minute questions you might come up with that you should ask him or if you see any questions that fans want answers to that are reasonable.

It's early—almost too early—in the morning for your brain to be working. But with the lack of an itinerary, you had to schedule the meeting with Changbin this early so you can try to figure out how the day is going to go. The concert went slightly longer than it should have last night when Felix's "Let's go one more!" turned into five more. After that, you got caught in traffic on your way back to the hotel. You’re not sure if it’s the post-concert adrenaline that you’ve grown accustomed to or pure anxiety from your one-on-one day with Changbin, but you couldn’t sleep when you got back. So you decided to get some work done editing pictures until you felt tired enough to sleep.

Unfortunately for you, that came an hour before you needed to wake up. And even then, it was more like your body forced you to go to sleep than you actively decided to go to bed. You’re glad you had some sense to set your alarm ahead of time or else you definitely would have overslept.

Ding!

You let out a deep sigh as you click over to the message you just got from your team leader. Seoul is only 2 hours ahead of Bangkok meaning that he’s already back home from church and decided to torment you all before lunchtime. He may be a worse workaholic than you.

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” You grumble under your breath as you scroll through the message he sent you.

“If you’re fussing about me being late, I still had 10 minutes before I needed to be here, noona,” Changbin speaks lowly as he takes the seat across from you.

From the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of a staff member, a babysitter as you like to call them, taking a seat at a table nearby. They sit just out of your view but right in Changbin's line of sight. There's a rotation of the same four staff members who accompany you and the group on official outings. It's annoying asking the members a question and watching their eyes drift off to the side to get approval, even for the simplest questions. If you were a bolder person, you'd take advantage of the times you hang out with the members off the clock and ask them questions without their babysitters. But even you know when to draw the line between work and pleasure.

"You're fine. Honestly, I expected you to be a little late. You're part of insomniac-racha, no? We got back pretty late so I thought you'd sleep in a bit." You exit out of the message from your team leader and slide your phone into your camera bag. You'll worry about it later.

"Of the four of us with bad sleep schedules, I have the best one. I can guarantee you that Chan hyung, Hyunjin, and Jisung aren't leaving their beds before noon." He jokes a little louder as he sets a jacket down in the chair next to him.

Changbin's a bit more dressed up compared to the other times you've met up with him. Photo ready. His hair, a now faded dark green leftover from last month's Japanese comeback promotions, is straightened again, his bangs only giving a slight preview of his forehead. He is wearing a short-sleeved button-up shirt that is a similar green to his hair. The green shirt is unbuttoned, revealing the white tank top tucked into his blue jeans and accessorized with a matching black belt. A simple outfit for probably one of the more complex members of the group. Even his accessories are simple. A single, silver ring on his right ring finger, two small layered silver chains, and black-rimmed glasses that you know he doesn't need but somehow ties the whole outfit together. You didn't manage to see his shoes before he sat down but you wouldn't be surprised if they matched the color scheme of his outfit. If you didn't know any better, you would have thought that he touched up the color of his hair to match his shirt.

He's certainly dressed better than you are with your baggy blue jeans, oversized black graphic shirt, and red Converse that you threw on before you left the hotel. It's the least professional outfit you've worn on a workday, but you didn't really care. You're too tired to care. And besides, your job is to be behind the camera not in front of it. Nobody is going to care that you aren't wearing makeup or that you're wearing a face mask and glasses to cover up the dark circles under your eyes that are permanently etched into your face. Or that your hair is going to spend the day in a messy bun or loose ponytail. They're only going to care that you get exemplary shots of their bias.

"Good morning, by the way, noona," Changbin lowers his voice again, so as to not to disturb the other people in the diner.

You chuckle at the delayed greeting. "Good morning, Changbin,"

"Did you order already?" Changbin takes one of the menus that is sitting on the table and skims through it.

"Not yet," You shake your head as you take the other menu. "I didn't know when you'd be here and I didn't want you to feel like I was rushing you. This is one of those places where you have to go and order at the front though so just tell me what you want and I'll get it."

"I'll order for us. It'll probably be easier." Changbin says casually without looking up from his menu.

"You know Thai?" You tilt your head to the side, dumbfounded.

"Chan hyung is close to BamBam seonbaenim and one of his love languages is learning languages. He always tries to teach us what he knows." You can't see his face beneath his mask but you can hear the soft fondness for Chan in his voice. "Plus, I believe that there are five fundamental things you should know in terms of foreign languages: how to order food, how to ask for directions, how to shop, proper greetings...and how to ask where the bathroom is."

You can't help but laugh at the last addition. You can only imagine how many times he's gotten in trouble before he realized he needed to learn the last one.

"Okay, you can order for me. Your Thai is probably better than mine anyway." Truth be told, you were fully prepared to head to the counter with your broken Thai and the menu and just pointing at what you wanted to order. Part of you is grateful that Changbin offered to order instead.

"What do you want?" He sets the menu down, finally settling on what he wants.

"This," You turn your own menu upside down and point at what you wanted. Thankfully, the menu had English descriptions right next to them. "And the largest, strongest ice coffee that they have."

There's an expression on his face that you can't read for a moment before he nods. You watch as he walks over to the Skzigi sitting near you and has a brief conversation with her before going to the front counter to order. You laugh to yourself when you finally see his shoes: white sneakers with green on them.

You quickly jot down what Changbin said about Chan and BamBam and about the five fundamental things of learning a new language in your notebook while they're still fresh in your head. You have a tape recorder for the actual interview portion, as old school as that sounds. But you don't want to pull it out now and be rude. You're extra cautious around Changbin and any sort of recording device you have after what happened in Sydney. You two may have reconciled, but you know he still doesn't fully trust you.

Changbin comes back from the counter and walks straight back to the Skzigi, handing her a receipt. It only now just dawned on you that he went up to her earlier to ask what she wanted to eat and ordered it for her. You take note of it in your notebook. It's one of the few things that you've noticed about all of the members, their kindness towards their staff. You've been around groups that treat their staff members as poorly as you can imagine. Or, if it's not the entire group, it's a few members. It's refreshing to see that the entire group treats the staff like they're a part of the group as well.

"How much what my stuff?" You ask Changbin when he sits back down with you. You pull your phone out and open up to a money transfer app.

"Don't worry about it." Changbin waves off as he puts his receipt in his pocket.

"I can pay for my own food." You blink.

"I'm using the company card. All of our meals today are on JYP PDnim."

You'd believe him if you hadn't spent months hearing the other members saying the same thing despite the fact that you say them using their personal cards. Most of the other members already blocked you on money-sharing apps or disabled their Apple Pay so you couldn't pay them back. You're almost certain Changbin hasn't done that yet.

"Changbin--"

"It's fine, noona," He sits up straighter in his chair.

"...I'm paying for lunch. But thank you" You sigh as you see that Changbin also blocked you. At this rate, you're going to be pulling out a suspicious amount of cash by the end of the tour and sneaking it into all of their suitcases.

"We'll see," He laughs. "What pissed you off earlier?"

Your mind trails back to the text from your team leader that you never responded to. You quickly go back to the message and put a thumbs up to it so he knows that you saw it. If you didn't, he'd end up sending you a bunch of emails and texts later until you acknowledge him despite it not being a work day and you're technically out of the office.

"I was just reacting to the list of comebacks and debut albums for January. Which just means I'm going to have more reviews to finish over the holidays." You can already imagine how many albums and eps are currently sitting in your inbox.

"Isn't The Seoul Star a big company? Are you the only one there who can review albums?" You can feel the concern in Changbin's voice leap across the table and float around your head.

"It's...it's complicated. The short story is that I'm apparently too good at my job. The longer one is that it's all bureaucratic bullshit and I like being employed so I just keep my mouth shut and do what I'm told."

"If you're that good at your job, shouldn't they treat you better?"

"Am I the one getting interviewed? What's happening right now?" You laugh, but not because it's funny, but because you're too tired to get into that topic right now.

"Technically, the interview hasn't started yet." He says smugly.

"Speaking of which," You quickly shift the topic off of you, "where are we going first today?"

Changbin nods, realizing that you don't want to get into it. Instead, he follows your lead into the new conversation. "We'll see,"

"Excuse me?" You freeze. You want to hope that you misunderstood him or that he's playing coy. But you know him enough to know that he's being serious.

"We'll see," He repeats nonchalantly, picking at the nonexistent lint on his shirt.

“I hope that means you already planned everything today, like I asked you to do, and you’re going to wow me with your amazing travel guide skills.” You laugh nervously.

You know that if Changbin’s concept doesn’t look half as good as the other members, you’re in deep shit with their fanbase. While Changbin isn’t your favorite member because of how rocky your relationship started, you’ll have “Changbin anti” rumors circulating as soon as the magazine is released. Not to mention other rumors that will completely derail your career and everything you worked hard for.

“It means that we’ll see where the day takes us,” He clarifies, not that it makes anything better.

“I’m entirely too tired for this,” You mutter under your breath as you lay your head against the table. “I knew I should have planned something just in case.”

You sit there for a moment, your forehead pressed into your forearm, trying to even your breathing. Crying first thing in the morning in front of Changbin is the last thing you want to do. Crying in front of anyone is the last thing you want to do in general but in front of the man who most likely hates you is worse. Instead, you focus and try to remember some of the events that you looked up a few months ago.

We can try to do something with the floating market. It'll be harder, there'll be a lot of people around, and I'll have to edit their faces and hope the concept comes out well. There are too many Christmas events going on right now. Which would be nice if we were releasing the magazine now, but it's not coming out until the middle of next year. Going to The Grand Palace or temples might come off as distasteful and cause a scandal that neither of us would survive. Well, Changbin might survive it. His fans might just shove the blame on me. Which, in this case, would be correct. Maybe we can do a "Date with Changbin in Bangkok" concept and just have him eat street food. Even then, that's a pretty desperate and lame attempt that would reflect negatively on me. Not to mention the lack of permits for any of these places. It might be more complicated to explain to locals what's going on, especially since we can't really advertise for them. Maybe we can--

"Noona?" Changbin's voice calls out softly, his fingertips graze your arm almost shocking you out of your spiral.

"Hm?" You plaster on a fake smile and lift your head to meet Changbin in the eyes.

You've unlocked a new expression from Changbin. It takes longer than normal to register the furrowed brows forming three perfectly parallel lines between them, his lips pressed into a thin frown, and the way his eyes carefully looked over you as concern. It's similar to the one that Wonseok had on his face when you spent your first Christmas in Seoul and the two of you got drunk in his room after opening presents with his family. Right after you hit your soju limit you told him that it was the happiest Christmas you've ever experienced.

"Wipe that look off your face, you're weirding me out." You laugh as you push his hand off of your arm.

"I didn't think it would stress you out that much." He whispers, almost as innocently as a child who got caught doing something they shouldn't have been doing for the first time.

"You're saying that you wouldn't be stressed out if someone told you, last minute, that you had to freestyle your performance?" You scoff.

"I'm a rapper, I'm supposed to freestyle," He sits up straight again, finally removing his hand from the spot on the table where you pushed it to.

You pinch the bridge of you, throw your head back, and let out an exasperated sigh. You don't care how this comes off to the staff member sitting not even 3 feet away from you. "It's been so long since I've met someone who manages to piss me off every time they talk. You really know how to wear my patience down, don't you, Changbin-ssi?"

"I'm not--"

"Here's your food," The waiter says slowly, making sure that you and Changbin understand every word. He sets down the two plates towards the end of the table, not sure what belongs to who, but also not sure if the two of you would be able to understand him if he were to ask. He only heard you and Changbin speaking rather loudly in Korean earlier.

"Thank you," Changbin says with a smile and a nod. After the waiter leaves, he slides over your food, which had been placed closer to him. He leans in slightly over the table and whispers, "I'm not doing it on purpose."

"Could've fooled me," You mutter as you roll your eyes. You ignore the plate of food and take the glass of iced coffee that has, thankfully, been placed close to you and take a large lip of it.

You can't hide the face that appears on your face as the bitter taste of the coffee hits your tongue. Still, you force it down and set the cup back on the table, deciding to let the ice melt a bit to lessen the flavor. Changbin wordlessly slides the sugar packets towards you.

"Thank you," You whisper without looking at Changbin. You take four sugar packets and one of the vanilla creamers, pour them into your cup, and mix it quietly with a spoon from the table.

The two of you sit in relative silence in the diner, the only comfort that makes it not completely awkward is the white noise coming from the kitchen and the other patrons. You watch as Changbin fiddles with his utensils and his food, seemingly having to have lost his appetite.

"Look," You take another sip of the coffee and set it back down on the table, "I'm sorry. I'm just extremely sleep-deprived right now and it's making me act unprofessionally. Let's just eat and then we'll figure it out."

"It's fine. I'm sorry too. You're just so wound up and focused on your job all the time, I thought that I could...I don't know, force you to slow down today by being spontaneous." He finally stops playing with his food and shovels some of it into his mouth.

"There's nothing wrong with a strong work ethic." You shrug while taking a bite of your own food.

"There's a difference between working hard and working yourself to death." A hushed tone replaces his usual, booming voice.

You stop chewing for a second, studying Changbin. He keeps his head down as he eats, almost like he's refusing to look at you. You set your fork down and lace your fingers together as you place them on the table in front of you. You twiddle your thumbs together as you think about your words carefully. The caffeine coursing through your veins is already causing your previously sluggish brain to work faster than it did earlier.

"We've been on tour for three, almost four months now. In that time, you've done 18 shows in 10 different cities." Changbin glances up at you as you lean in a bit closer. "And during that time you've also promoted a Japanese comeback, performed at and attended award shows, completed countless interviews, worked on and promoted collabs, worked on an entirely new comeback for next year, and filmed content for future projects. And that's just you. The other members had their own schedules--hell, some of them attended fashion week or flew back home to help other artists produce songs. And I know for a fact that you're planning that comeback to be released in between the gap between the first and second leg of the tour. The call is coming from deep inside of the house."

"You've got me there," Changbin sets his utensils on the side of his plate. He takes his napkin and dabs the corner of his mouth before placing it on his lap. He pauses for a moment before making eye contact with you again. "But at least I know how to relax on my days off."

You smirk as you let out a huff of air, your patience wearing thin again. "You have seven other group members that you can lean on when work gets to be too much. I don't have anyone. I may wear a Skzigi badge, but I'm not one of them. I'm an outsider to them. My team back home only sees this as a glorified vacation, I can't even complain to them without coming off as entitled. I don't have the luxury to relax."

A sinking feeling in your chest overwhelms you, filling you with dread. You've become concerningly aware of the staff member sitting near you, who is most likely going to gossip with the other staff members about you later about how unprofessional you are and how rude you've been to Changbin. You squeeze your eyes shut, almost like a child.

One...Two...Three...Four--

"Noona--"

"Forget it," Your eyes snap open as you quickly cut Changbin off, not really wanting to hear his pity for you. You pick up your fork and go back to picking at your food. "Just eat and find something for us to do with lax photography policies. We're wasting time with the conversation. It's not going to change anything."

***

"You don't cook a lot normally, do you?" You ask Changbin as you go over the pictures in your camera. The tape recorder you've been using all day sits between you. Both of you have small mics so that you can be heard loud and clear when you play it back later.

The day ended up well, despite its rocky start. The two of you went to the floating market after agreeing to do a food theme. You got pictures of Changbin "buying" fruits and vegetables from merchants on the boats. You even bought some actual fruit and got pictures of him eating them. You did some walking around and got pictures of Changbin at some food stalls, one of which the three of you actually ate at. You found a Thai cooking class for tourists and rented the space so that you could get pictures of Changbin cooking. Overall, it looks like another date concept, but it comes off almost like the Stay is going through a sort of farmer's market with Changbin and then cooking dinner with him. You got some amazing shots of Changbin feeding the camera that you're really proud of. You even had some time earlier to explore the more scenic routes around Bangkok, which is why the two of you are taking a bus ride over an hour back to the hotel.

Click

You turn to Changbin, who sets down the disposable film camera you gave him earlier in his lap. He peers over your shoulder to see what you're looking at. It's a picture of Changbin looking at an egg that he dropped on the floor. You know there's a picture somewhere of him holding a pan on fire that you took almost 20 minutes after that.

"It's not that I can't cook. Like most things, if I focus and try my best, I can do it." He speaks clearly and loudly so his voice isn't muffled by his mask. He lets out a soft chuckle like he's remembering something fondly. "But I don't trust myself in the kitchen. I'll end up wasting more things because of mistakes so I just order food or let one of the members that can cook take over. I know when to step away and let the professionals take over. I'm not as bad as Yongbok...Ayen, or Kim Seungmin though."

"So you're asking Minho to cook a lot then?" You set your camera down and rub your eyes. You're not sure if sleep is catching up to you or if your eyes are tired from looking at the camera screen.

"Yeah but...Minho hyung is a bit funny." He laughs as he leans his head against the back of the seat.

"Funny how?" You tilt your head.

You watch as Changbin's eyes shift over to the Skzigi sitting in front of you, asking permission to talk about it. You hate when the members do this. Especially when they do it over questions that are nowhere near controversial. The Skizigi's back is facing the window of her seat so she can keep an eye on the two of you and prevent anyone else from sitting near you and hearing your conversation, not that they would be able to understand you anyway. She pauses for a moment, looking up from her phone, before giving him a soft nod. She glances around before gesturing for Changbin to answer. There are not many places for people to sneak up on you since you're sitting in the back of the bus.

"I don't know if it's because he has that tsundere thing going on or because he's an only child so he's not used to all of the attention, but...Like if one of us asks him to make something directly, he'll say 'No.' Or if one of us just mentions that we're craving something and he happens to be in the room he'll say 'Just use your food delivery app.'"

You laugh, you've witnessed similar scenarios with Minho where he's done things like that with the other members more than enough times for you to believe it. "That sounds like Mr. Cat."

"Right?" He continues. "But then a few days later he'll call and say 'Come over, I made too much food to eat by myself' and it's the food we asked him to make or mentioned. And no matter how difficult it was or how much time he took, he'll play it off like it was no big deal. You've heard about the Beef Wellington story, right?"

Changbin's voice has a certain...soft fondness that you don't think you've heard in anyone's voice as he talks about Minho. You only just now noticed that he does that when he talks about any of the members.

"You mean when he spent like...four hours making Beef Wellington for Felix's birthday?" You recall.

"Exactly! He's always taking care of us like that. He pretends like he doesn't care about us or that he can't be bothered but..." Changbin glances over the Skzigi again. This time she hesitates to answer. Instead, he ignores her and turns his attention back to you before she can object. "It's all an act for the camera. But he truly cares about and loves the members. Even if he won't admit it. He is more of a 'showing his love through actions' person than a 'speaking his feelings' person."

You glance over to the Skzigi this time, mentally taking note of the annoyed look on her face. You know she's going to say something to you later.

"You know," You speak loudly so she can hear you as you turn back to Changbin. "I've been around a lot of groups where it's blatantly clear that their relationship is just a business one. But, after spending these past four months with you guys, I can see that you guys are an actual family."

"A family?" Changbin's voice trails off as he looks past you and out the window behind you. "Yeah, we are...I used to beg my parents and pray when I was little for a brother. And now I have two older ones and five younger ones."

You almost miss the worried look that appears on the Skzigi's face. Changbin catches it and thinks to himself for a moment.

"Take out the part about me praying about it. You can just say that I begged my parents for a brother." He says softly.

"Understood," You nod. You make a note of it on your phone just in case the mic didn't pick it up.

You understand why he said it. Even though his contract renewal gave him more freedom, there are still things he can't talk about. Or rather, he shouldn't speak about to protect his idol image. You remember the backlash Felix received just for being seen holding his Bible and mentioning that he'll pray for fans.

"I think we're done for today," You yawn as you turn off the tape recorder and shove it into your bag, along with your phone.

"Are you tired, noona?" Changbin asks, snapping back into his normal self.

"I think all the caffeine I've consumed today has escaped my body," You yawn again. If you're being completely transparent, you've lost track of how many coffees you bought today after the third one.

You squeeze your eyes shut and open them as wide as you can to keep them from staying shut. You slowly take apart your camera and pack it away in your bag as well. Still, the low lights in the bus, the quiet ambiance from the few passengers, and the stillness of the night are starting to make your eyes feel heavy and unfocused.

"An hour? Noona, that's not healthy." Changbin nearly shouts.

"It's fine. You guys have your own schedules for the next few days before we leave for Jakarta. I'm going straight to bed and sleeping in tomorrow since you don't need me." You grab your bag from your side and set it between you and Changbin on top of his jacket so you're sure you won't forget it.

"Yeah, but that's..." Concern laces Changbins voice as it trains off. "We're still far from the hotel and it looks like we're in traffic. Why don't you rest? I'll wake you up when we get there."

"Hm, maybe just for a moment. I'm probably going to end up knocking out at this rate anyway." You yawn again as you rub your eyes.

You settle a bit more into your seat, resting your head against the back of your seat and crossing your arms across your chest. You let your lead heavy eyes and don't try to open them again.

The three of you sit in silence for a while. You can hear someone typing away on their phone. Somehow, it doesn't annoy you. It's almost like ASMR.

"I'm sorry for being a bitch this morning," You mumble.

Thud

You force one eye open to see the Skzigi bending over to pick up her phone. You let out a soft chuckle at her reaction to hearing you swear. You don't do it often. Another sign of how tired you are. You close your eye again.

"I-I wouldn't use those words," Changbin clears his throat nervously. "But you're fine. I was being rude and frustrating earlier. Your frustration with me was completely valid. I'm sorry,"

"Apology accepted."

The two of you fall silent again and the soft typing resumes. The bus moves forward a little and then stops, almost like it's rocking you to sleep. Only, a thought pops into your head as you try to drift off to sleep.

You try to shake it out of your head to no avail. The more the louder the thought gets in your head, the more away you're becoming.

Fuck,

“Can I ask you something else off the record?” You break the silence again.

“Go to sleep, noona,” Changbin sings softly.

“Just one last thing, I promise.”

Changbin pauses for a moment, debating letting you ask the question. You crack your eye open again to find him deep in thought. After a moment, he turns to you. “If I don’t feel comfortable, I’m not answering.”

“Okay,” You nod, closing your eye again and resuming your previous position. You sit there for a moment, thinking of different ways to phrase the question.

“Noona?" Changbin whispers softly. "Did you fall asleep? Or are you having second thoughts?”

“I’m not having…It’s just a complicated question to ask.” You breathe.

He gently knocks your knee with his. “Stuff like that is off the table, you know that.”

“This has nothing to do with your romantic life, family, or private life.” You say quickly.

He pauses for a moment again. You're not sure if he's thinking or trying to read your thoughts. You're too tired to open your eyes and check to see what he's doing. You hear a soft sigh before he opens his mouth. “Then why are you having trouble asking it?”

“Because it’s…” You press your lips tightly into a thin line as you try to find your words. Your brain is nearly mush in its current state. You give up trying to find a diplomatic way of asking the question and just go for it. “Why did you hate me at first?”

More silence. You're almost certain that he's planning on getting out of the question by waiting for you to fall asleep. You hear him clear his throat again.

“I didn’t hate you." He says faintly. "I don’t hate anyone.”

“Bullshit,” You snort.

Thud

“I’m telling you the truth!” He says a little too loudly.

It's enough to make you jump and open your eyes. You scan the bus, none of the passengers seem disturbed by the volume.

You place your hand on Changin's forearm as you shush him.“Shh, okay, I believe you,”

“Sorry,” He lowers his voice, almost whispering. “Look, I didn’t hate you. Hating people isn’t good for your health and it takes too much energy away from you that you can use on something else.”

“But, you definitely didn’t like me,” You push.

“Not because of who you are.” He reassures you.

You think for a moment as you go back into your sleep position. “Because I'm a reporter?”

“Exactly,” He hums. You can almost picture him nodding his head as he says it.

"But you do interviews all of the time. I saw the Rolling Stones article. The journalist is a good writer, but you seemed comfortable."

"That took a while to get to that point. But after what happened at the MET Gala...I've been cautious around photographers and reporters. And this situation is...it's different because you're always around. Always watching and listening."

"Not always," You laugh to yourself, "As you pointed out earlier, I'm always working and I'm not around to that often."

"I know...Anyway, I was just worried about the group. It's our seventh year. It's a scary time, anything can go wrong, even if we don't do anything. We've reached a new level of fame this year and with that comes unwanted attention. It's hard to know, at this point in our careers, who is there to help us and who is here to harm us."

"...I'm here to help."

"I know that now. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize."

"It's fine," You yawn loudly.

"Go to sleep, noona," Changbin whispers softly. You can almost feel his breath on your ear.

Satisfied with the conversation, your brain rapidly returns to sleep mode. You offer a hum in response to Changbin. The bus starts moving again, pulling your body deeper into the state of sleep.

Your body is in a weird state where you have no real concept of time. It feels like you're only resting your eyes. You can hear the low hum from the bus moving and gently squeaking as it slows down. But your brain and body also feel like you're asleep. It feels like it's only been a few moments, but your eyes are glued shut. You can't even open them to check the time on your phone.

You feel warm all of a sudden, almost like you've been covered with a blanket. A few moments later, or soon after you can't really tell, you feel like you're falling. A few more moments later you feel something touch the side of your head, making you fall faster, just before the other side of your head hits something soft. You feel a soft smile creep on your face, but you're no longer in control of any part of your body anymore.

Click

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

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randomprose · 1 year ago

Text

now posted on AO3!

Mo Guan Shan is sitting on the kitchen island eating a sandwich when He Cheng walks in.

He looks up from scrolling through his phone, looking a little startled.

“Mo Guan Shan,” He Cheng acknowledges with a nod before heading to the fridge.

“Uh. Hey, boss."

“Where’s He Tian?"

“Still sleepin’,” he shrugs. “Got bored an’ hungry waitin’ for him to wake up.”

He Cheng just hums. His brother has always been one to sleep in late even as a child.

“Have you eaten?” Mo Guan Shan asks, a hand scratching the back of his neck. He looks awkward standing in He Cheng’s kitchen — rarely used, all stainless steel, and state of the art — yet strangely comfortable behind the counter near the stoves. At least before He Cheng came in. This is the most relaxed He Cheng has ever seen him in his house over the years.

He mulls the question over, probably blurted out on impulse. He’s really only here to get a bottle of water.

“I've had coffee”, was what he said after awhile. He can’t quite remember what time that was. Some time between the early hours of a new day and before the crack of dawn.

Mo Guan Shan frowns, brows knitted together. The kid is very expressive, He Cheng observes. Easy to draw reaction from. He can see why He Tian loses his shit pushing this kid’s buttons.

“That’s not exactly food.”

“I don’t eat breakfast.” Never had the stomach for it. Just never made sense for him to eat so early in the morning.

“Er. It’s past noon, boss,” Mo Guan Shan somehow feels the need to remind him. He Cheng just stares at him. “Technically it’s lunchtime bordering on…mid-afternoon snack?”

It dawns on He Cheng that, given his answer, this kid wants him to eat something. Mo Guan Shan either has certain manners drilled into him — He Cheng caught him eating when he entered the kitchen so he felt the need to offer him something as well — or he has an inane need to take care of people. Just like He Tian.

He Cheng supposes that’s a good thing, if a bit of a soft touch — something that has no room in the world he and He Tian live in but is nonetheless welcomed and desired by He Cheng for his brother. He Tian could’ve done so much worse. At least He Cheng knows his brother is eating and taken care of. He swears that kid never knows how to look after himself.

“If you insist,” He Cheng allows and sits on a stool at the kitchen counter.

Mo Guan Shan visibly relaxes. Like he’s relieved He Cheng agreed he could cook for him. If he hadn’t ran a thorough background on him he’d think he’s going to try and poison him. Except the kid is terrible at hiding his expressions and controlling his body language and He Cheng has known him since he was in middle school.

“Alright. So, uh, what are you hungry for?”

He Cheng isn’t really hungry for anything, but he does acknowledge that he hasn’t eaten since yesterday and this will only be his first meal of the day. Still, he doesn’t think he can stomach a full meal right now.

“Just eggs will do.”

“Okay,” Mo Guan Shan nods. “How do you like your eggs?”

“Scrambled,” is all he says. No mention of how he likes it cooked, no preference for seasoning, no specifications of any kind. He Cheng doesn’t really care as long as it's edible and won’t upset his stomach.

Mo Guan Shan gets to work in silence. He Cheng watches him move and is not at all surprised that he knows his way around, knows where everything is. Qiu mentioned the kid is good in the kitchen, more than a decent cook, and is not above admitting that he enjoys his food despite the disaster that occured the one and only time the kids came over his place and had Mo Guan Shan made them dinner. He Cheng knows this, too. He knows that the kid is apprenticing in a family restaurant and is saving up to go to culinary school. He’s had to drop by He Tian’s place occasionally and was pleasantly surprised that his brother isn’t just subsisting on take-outs if at all.

But it’s just eggs and He Cheng isn’t really expecting anything. Eggs are just eggs after all.

After just about twenty minutes, Mo Guan Shan puts down a plate of the fluffiest looking scrambled eggs He Cheng has ever been served garnished with spring onions and what seem to be crushed potato chips. He serves it with a glass of orange juice on the side and the whole ensemble looks like it’s been lifted out of a lifestyle cooking magazine.

He Cheng takes a forkful and lets out a low pleased sound at the back of his throat.

"Good?" Mo Guan Shan asks, a corner of his lips quirked up in quiet satisfaction the way a cook is when they know someone enjoys their food.

"It is." He Cheng maintains that eggs are still just eggs but this really is good. Qiu’s not exaggerating then.

The eggs are light and cooked just right, lightly seasoned with the melted cheese adding another layer of flavor, and the potato chips give it a good crunch. He’s never even thought of potato chips as anything other than junk food.

"Yeah. Figured you and Tian like your scrambled eggs the same." Mo Guan Shan comments as he sits back down to finish his sandwich. "First time I made it he looked so pissed even though he couldn't stop shovelling eggs in his mouth. Thought he might've hated it and was just eating it to, I don’t know, not hurt my feelings or some shit, but then I heard him curse you under his breath and ask for seconds."

A thought that comes to He Cheng: He Tian eats breakfast and likes his eggs scrambled just like him.

“He hates it, but he's really alike you in a lot of ways, you know.”

Well, of course he is, He Cheng agrees. He practically raised that kid. He Tian’s bound to pick up some of He Cheng’s mannerisms and preferences for certain things whether he likes it or not.

“Coffee? Brewed a new batch.”

“Please.”

“Cream and sugar?”

“Just black, thanks.”

“You sure?" Mo Guan Shan asks like he doesn't believe him.

“I like it as it is.”

“Huh,” Mo Guan Shan sounds out before shrugging and pouring out two mugs.

This prompts He Cheng to ask, "Does Tian-di not take his coffee black then?"

It occurs to him that he doesn’t know his brother at all. Maybe there was a time that he did, when He Tian was small and only had him, but He Cheng doesn’t claim that he knows his brother beyond his childhood days. While He Tian seems to come to him more and more these days, their relationship is still rather estranged and not at all conventional, however that may be.

All He Cheng knows of He Tian is that his brother is of the good sort and that’s enough for him.

He Tian cares for his friends and cares for Mo Guan Shan in ways He Cheng will probably never understand. He’s better than He Cheng in a lot of ways that matter, more human perhaps, which suits him just fine. He never wanted He Tian to be someone their family has morphed and twisted to suit their needs and use as see fit. He never wanted He Tian to be like him.

And so He Cheng finds himself indulging in wanting to know the little things that make up his brother. Like how he likes his eggs and how he drinks his coffee.

“He does but I know he hates it. Everytime he drinks it he makes a face like it's poison.” Mo Guan Shan shrugs as he sits down across from him. He hands He Cheng one of the mugs and nurses one himself. “I don't know why he insists on drinking it this way.”

He Cheng just hums, breathing in the aroma of the coffee, not unaware of the way Mo Guan Shan is pointedly looking at him.

“Tian-di probably just can’t be bothered to have it otherwise.”

“Nah. He probably just thinks it makes him all mature and tough. As if cream and sugar makes you weak or some shit.”

Just before they both move to take a sip from their mugs, He Cheng mutters “Idiot” under his breath at the same time Mo Guan Shan scoffs it. They stop and couldn’t help to smirk at their consensus.

It’s good to know someone else can see through his brother’s bullshit.

He Cheng notes that Mo Guan Shan takes his coffee black. Mo Guan Shan just shrugs when he points this out.

“I like the bitter taste. It’s what keeps you awake,” he says before taking another sip. “And you taste the flavor of the beans better without the cover up of milk or sweetener.”

A fair assessment. He Cheng will drink to that.

For a while, they sat in silence as they finish their meals. Then Mo Guan Shan’s phone lights up. He drains the last of his coffee as he swipes at the screen. It seems a message has popped up because he picks it up and types something back. He Cheng surmises it’s probably He Tian, just woken up, asking where Mo Guan Shan is.

"Refill?" Mo Guan Shan offers, walking back to where the coffee pot is.

"No, thank you.”

Mo Guan Shan refills his cup and adds three spoons of cream and two sugar cubes. He Tian enters the kitchen with a jaw cracking yawn just as Mo Guan Shan is back on his seat and finished stirring. His brother takes the seat beside the redhead across from him and He Cheing watches the latter push the mug at He Tian’s direction. The cup is only three-quarts full.

“I’m done. Finish this.”

“You always do this. Why bother pouring a full cup if you’re not gonna drink even half of it?” He Tian quips but takes the mug anyway.

He Cheng notes his brother doesn’t make a face after the first sip. He Tian even licks at his upper lip and a corner of his mouth is quirked up.

“What’s for breakfast?”

“It’s way past noon.”

“It’s my first meal of the day. What’s for breakfast?”

“Scrambled eggs,” He Cheng answers before Mo Guan Shan could and delights at the face his brother makes when he sees what’s on his plate and realizes who made it.

‘What the…’ He Tian mouths as he narrows his eyes at what remains of He Cheng’s meal.

“You know what, I actually don’t want scrambled eggs. I want—”

“Tough shit. I’m already making them and you’re gonna eat it when it’s done.”

He Tian makes a low whining displeased sound but nonetheless doesn’t protest. “Throw in some bacon.”

“Alright.”

He Tian doesn’t offer to help beyond getting the pack of bacon from the fridge, handing it to Mo Guan Shan before returning to his seat. Like it’s routine. Like there’s an unspoken agreement that Mo Guan Shan cooks and He Tian stays out of his way. And He Cheng gathers he’s probably been shooed away and out of the kitchen when the other is at work. He Cheng can’t imagine his brother even knows how to operate a stove — just another thing they have in common by virtue of being born to money.

He Tian's attention is solely on Mo Guan Shan. His back is to He Cheng, leaning against the counter as he talks to the redhead. He asks if he slept well, what he wants to do today, if there’s somewhere he wants to go to, if he wants anything particular for dinner later. Mo Guan Shan makes a comment that makes He Tian laugh but goes over He Cheng's head and he figures it must be an inside joke between them.

There’s a kind of ease to it, the flow of their banter, the way they move around each other. He Tian certainly seems comfortable and at ease, the line of his back relaxed and lacking the usual tenseness of someone always ready to go on either the offense or defense.

Mo Guan Shan mirrors the same ease as he puts down a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast for He Tian, who turns his head to plant a kiss on his cheek in thanks.

The whole thing makes He Cheng feel like a fucking interloper in his own goddamn kitchen.

He Cheng looks at his brother with his own plate of scrambled eggs and Mo Guan Shan's mug of coffee, the one with cream and sugar he said he couldn't finish so He Tian would take it, and thinks it's the best life he could have ever hoped for him.

“Wash the dishes when you're done,” Mo Guan Shan says as he scrolls through his phone.

He Tian looks at the sink and makes a face at the pan and other things Mo Guan Shan used to cook.

“Man, do I have to? This isn’t even my house. And there are maids for a reason.”

“Tch. Spoiled brat.” Mo Guan Shan lightly pinches a chewing He Tian’s cheek, bulging with food. “Exactly. This isn’t your house. You use them, you clean them.”

“Cheng ate, too,” he nods to where He Cheng is finishing up the last of his meal. “Why don’t you make him do his dishes?” he says with a smirk, thinking he’s on to something.

“He’s letting the four of us stay for the summer.” Mo Guan Shan takes He Cheng’s plate and the empty glass of juice when he sees he’s done and soaks them in the sink. “Here. In this house that he owns. In an island that is his. For free.” He sends He Tian a look that says, ‘need I say more?’.

“What are you talking about? I’m paying for our stay here you know.”

“Oh, really? With what? Sure as hell haven’t seen you so much as touch your wallet since we got on the boat.”

“My sanity.”

Mo Guan Shan’s hand flexes and for a moment, He Cheng thinks his brother is gonna be hit over the head with the frying pan.

“Just,” the word is sighed through gritted teeth, “do the damn dishes. It’s not that hard.”

“Why don’t you do them then?”

“I already cooked, asshole. I ain't washin’ the dishes. 'sides, you're the last to finish eatin’ so you get to clean up. Them’s the rules.”

“Fine, but I'm only gonna wash mine,” He Tian declares, viciously biting on a chunk of toast.

“It's one plate and a mug, Tian,” Mo Guan Shan sighs sounding like he’s had this exact conversation a thousand times. “Don't be a little bitch and wash them all. Don't waste soap.”

“Baby, look around. We can afford the waste.”

Mo Guan Shan levels him a look which He Tian stares right back as he continues to chew. It goes on for maybe a minute or two. A standoff with just their eyes, willing the other to back down first.

He Cheng doesn’t quite know what’s going on between the stare down and the silence, but He Tian is the first to look away with a groan. The one to concede first, apparently.

“Uuughhh! Fine! Fuck it! Fine! I'll do the damn dishes.”

“Yeah, as you should,” Mo Guan Shan quips looking satisfied with his victory. He Cheng marvels at how easy it is for him when getting He Tian to do anything, even if it's for his own good, has always been like pulling teeth. “I’m gonna go call my mom. There's more coffee in the pot. Creamer ran out, but there's milk in the fridge.”

“You know I only take my coffee black.”

Mo Guan Shan watches with a flat expression as He Tian sips ‘his’ coffee with cream and sugar. He catches He Cheng's eyes and shoots him a look that says, ‘are you seeing this shit?’ which He Tian doesn’t catch.

“Uh-huh, sure.” He doesn’t bother contesting. “There’s more toast in the bread box.”

“Buttered?”

“Butter it yourself, idiot,” Mo Guan Shan shoots back making a face at him.

“Can’t even do that simple thing for me, babe? Really starting to doubt this relationship right now.”

“Good. You shouldn’t get too complacent anyway, dick head.” He hops out of his seat and swats at He Tian’s grabby hands. “Do the damn dishes or I swear to god you won’t have anything to doubt anymore.”

He Cheng watches the exchange and feels like he’s in a sitcom. He thinks about how his initial plan to get a bottle of water has led to him being caught between his brother and his boyfriend play fighting, flirting, and the domesticity of it all. He thinks about asking Mo Guan Shan how he does that whole thing where he just stares at He Tian and makes him yield but figures it would only work if you're Mo Guan Shan.

He remembers a time when He Tian lowered his pride. Impulsive, insolent, and desperate, he came crawling back to He Cheng and was even willing to go as far as becoming something he hates. All for the sake of some boy, some school friend, some little pet project that he picked up because he was bored that morphed into something else, something more.

Mo Guan Shan made He Tian care for another. He made He Tian care so much he was willing to make himself into a monster for Mo Guan Shan, but stopped him just in time from going the deep end and even made him more human. Hell, Mo Guan Shan made He Tian care about himself. And for all that, He Cheng is grateful.

"Thanks," he says as much and means more than just the best scrambled eggs he's had in a while, but Mo Guan Shan would never know it. "You really didn't have to."

"Huh. Oh, uh, sure.” It catches Mo Guan Shan off-guard, halting him from leaving the kitchen. He looks a little sheepish as he says, “It's nothing, really. It's just…it’s just eggs."

He Cheng just hums and nods at him once in dismissal.

“Why are you so mean to me?” He Tian shouts after Mo Guan Shan, who’s already rounded the corner and only shouts back, “Dishes!”

He Tian scowls but there’s no real heat in it. He even asks He Cheng if he wants the rest of the coffee, which he declines, when he stood up to get more toast before tucking back into his eggs.

He Cheng sees that He Tian is happy, thinks Mo Guan Shan brings out all the best in him, and hopes to all the gods he doesn't believe in that his brother don't ever fuck this one up.

He doesn’t realize he’s staring until He Tian asks, “What?” around a mouthful of toast.

“Nothing,” He Cheng says as he finishes his coffee, and as he stands up he says, “Make sure you bring him along everytime you plan to come over. Otherwise, don’t come at all.” And just to spite him, he slides his empty mug closer to He Tian. “And make sure you do the damn dishes.”

He gets the desired effect. The glare his brother sent him is acrid and his next words make He Cheng want to laugh.

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do.”

“I didn’t. Mo Guan Shan did.”

“Whatever. Shut the fuck up.”

He Cheng just smirks and doesn’t hit him for his impertinence if only because He Tian grumbling, “I was gonna do them anyway” has already made his day.

Later, as He Cheng sits on his desk looking over his schedule, he sees that he has an appointment with their legal team. A thought strikes him and he scribbles a curt note at the margins and tells his secretary to summon the family lawyers too.

He might as well update the family registry.

edit: now posted on AO3! glad you guys like this piece. please leave kudos and comments there as well. thank you! :)

#19 days #tianshan #he tian #mo guan shan #he cheng #he cheng and mo guan shan have a moment #in which mgs asks hc how he likes his eggs #hc thinks ht really lucked out on mgs #hc thanks mgs for making ht happy #not out loud tho lol #writing

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bunnieswithsunglasses · 7 months ago

Text

Seconds before disaster...

I keep thinking about this specific bit in @prince-liest's Once Bitten, Back For More and smiling because Vox is such a GINORMOUS NERD when you can see inside his head.

I also took the opportunity it give him a better outfit than in the show because I've been having too much fun drawing him in nice menswear instead of his dork-ass bowtie, tails, and top hat..

(Spoilers for what happens 2 seconds later under the cut.)

I wanted to do this one all nice and completed like the other one but i can't get past the silliness of my lunchtime doodle so I'm posting it unedited instead.

#my art #hazbin hotel vox #alastor

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once-in-a-blood-moon · 7 months ago

Note

I saw you rebogged the valentine's day soulmate!

Might I humbly request a 'tell no lies' mixed with 'no harm done' with Solomon with a female mc. I mostly enjoy the hijinks of that concept, everyone terrified of Solomon's cooking while mc is seemingly unaffected or a stray spell that hits mc that should hurt them but all is fine. And while everyone knows Solomon is shady, even he notices that he's a bit more honest towards mc, no matter how much he tries to keep his mirth about him!

AHHHH I'm sorry I got carried away. I just love your writing so much I absolutely can't wait to see what you do. Even if it isn't my request! Hope all is well!

Solomon - Tell No Lie/No Harm Done

Solomon x GN! reader

Prompts: It’s impossible to lie to your soulmate + soulmates are not able to hurt each other physically.

AN: Hello, dear sweet anon! This was an interesting request because I'd never thought of combining the prompts, so this was super fun to work with! I would like to make quick mention that I had every intention to write it for the requested female reader, but the way it flowed, I never used any defining pronouns other than you/yours, so I really hope that's okay! :) Once again, thank you for being patient, I know it was a long wait. And thank you for your kind words as well! Take care of yourself, anon! 💕

Warnings: Implied established soulmate connection/relationship, cameo of a Barbatos, hehe

Cocytus Hall was filled with a mouth-watering smell as you slaved away at the oven. It was nearing lunchtime, and you had decided to prepare a nice meal for both yourself and Solomon. He’d been cooped up in his room researching, so you were on your own in the kitchen today.

On most occasions, Solomon would join you to keep you company as you cooked. He knew to keep to himself as many of his cooking creations quickly turned disastrous, often ruining the kitchen – which you both would be stuck cleaning afterwards. Still, you yearned for his arms to wrap around you from behind like they so often did.

Today’s lunch was simple and something near and dear to your heart: grilled cheese sandwiches paired with tomato soup. A comforting meal from your home realm. You knew Solomon would be ecstatic to have some human realm food too since it’s been awhile.

The sandwiches sizzle in the skillet, and you’re about to flip them, when a knock raps from the front door. You quickly turn the burners off so nothing burns while you’re gone before making your way through the Hall. Once in front of the door, you turn the handle and open it to see Barbatos standing there with a cordial smile.

You return the smile as you greet him. “Afternoon, Barbatos. What are you doing here?”

“Good afternoon to you as well. I came by to conduct my routine inspections, as per usual. I hope I arrived at an opportune time.”

Oh, that’s right. It’s a new month, so of course he’d be stopping by soon. You give a shake your head to reassure him of his worries. “You’re fine, you’re not disrupting us or anything. I was in the middle of making lunch, but you searching through the other rooms won’t bother that.”

You step aside to allow him entry, to which he bows slightly before walking in. “And Solomon? He’s not...assisting you, is he?” he scowls as the sorcerer’s name passes his lips. It’s enough to miss, but you think you saw him shudder at the thought of Solomon in the kitchen. You quickly wave him off with a slight chuckle.

“No, no. He’s been in his room all day. So, no need to w-”

Before you can finish your sentence, a loud bang that seems to shake the whole building erupts from the kitchen. Both you and Barbatos startle, glancing to each other with similar thoughts…

Solomon.

You instantly being running through the Hall to the kitchen. Barbatos’ steps are quickly trailing yours, expecting to see disaster, but upon arrival – there’s no sign that anything had happened. Solomon’s stood in front of the stove looking into the pot that had the tomato soup in it with his hands placed on his hips, as if he were confused. He must’ve smelled the food and snuck in while you were away.

“Solomon, what was that noise?” you ask in a frantic tone, rushing over to check the soup. The once thick and smooth, red liquid now looked purple and chunky. Solomon sighs, rubbing his forehead.

“That would be me. I thought adding chili flakes would give the soup the kick it needs, but I seem to have misread the label and added popping fire salamander flakes instead.”

Barbatos watches from the doorway, narrowing his eyes incredulously. “How on earth did you misread that? Did you bother to read at all?”

Solomon looks over his shoulder to dispute Barbatos, but stops once he realizes he’s right. He sighs once again. “I guess it was more of a mix-up than a misread…” To his credit, they do look similar. So, it was an honest mistake.

You grab the wooden spoon that had been in the pot and lift it out to find the end burnt off from the substance that used to be soup. Another cooking utensil ruined due to Solomon’s influence. You shake your head as you place it down on the counter for now while trying to figure out how to salvage this mess. You’re about to reach for another spoon, but Solomon stops you, gently grabbing your wrist and pulling it away.

“I’ve got this. I’ll just use my magic to stir it, and once it’s good and stirred, the soup will be perfect!” He’s a little too optimistic for an outcome both you and Barbatos know will be disastrous.

“Wait, Solomon-” but it’s too late. Solomon casts a quick spell into the pot, though the contents don’t begin to stir around like you thought it would. Instead, it begins to bubble ominously.

You glance to Solomon, who watches it a little more intently than you do, wanting to see the result of his magic. “Uh, Solomon? What’s it doing?”

“I’m not...sure...”

Before either of you can react, the spell is rejected from the bubbling substance, and it bounces out and hits you at full force, knocking you backwards onto the floor. Both Solomon and Barbatos rush to check on you.

“By the gods,” Solomon says panicked as he kneels beside you, helping you sit up slowly, “are you alright? I had no idea that would happen.”

Barbatos kneels on the other side of you, eyes wide as they flicker around your face in concern. You take a moment to regroup, not feeling any different than before. You feel fine, actually. “I’m okay. Just a little shaken.”

“I’m sure you are,” Barbatos says, though he seems skeptical that you’re truly alright. “It appears some of the “matter” has splattered onto your face as well.”

“It’s just soup, Barbatos.” Solomon corrects as he wipes a little off with his thumb before licking it. His eyes light up and he smiles with an “mmh” coming from his throat. “That’s tasty. I think I really added to it.”

You wipe some off your cheek as well, tasting it, raising your eyebrows in mild surprise. “That is good, Solomon.”

Barbatos lifts an inquisitive brow, not believing a word of this for a second. But if someone other than Solomon thinks it’s good, maybe the sorcerer really did pull off the impossible. Barbatos raises back up to his height, walking towards the pot as he slides his glove off and dips his finger in the pot to get a taste as well. The moment the soup touches his tongue, he grimaces. The substance is too thick, sticking to his throat like glue. How did you manage to swallow it?

“Do you often eat Solomon’s cooking?” the butler asks, turning back to catch Solomon producing a handkerchief from his pocket and delicately wiping the mess off of your face.

You give a small nod as you respond, “yeah, I’ve always enjoyed his food.” That response alone makes Solomon smile proudly.

Barbatos blinks a few times in confusion, but relents as he realizes it’ll never make sense to him. You are an anomaly. No doubt about it. “Well, I suppose you and Solomon are more aligned than I thought previously,” he studies the way Solomon gazes at you, taking care of you as if you were the most fragile thing in the three realms. He sees the bond between the two of you. A bond no one else is allowed in on, let alone know intimate details about. “Much more.”

Solomon picks up on Barbatos’ words and clears his throat as he folds up the dirty handkerchief. “Of course, we’re aligned.” He directs his next words to you exclusively, speaking from nothing but his heart, “we’re aligned in mind, body, and most importantly...our souls.”

#valentine's soulmate event #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me fluff #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #obey me solomon x mc #jo writes

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baronessblixen · 6 months ago

Note

In case your brain decides to cooperate. :DDD

*****

It had not been Scully's day.

There had been no new messages on her answering machine that morning, turning last night's worry into this morning's dread. Scutwork duty dragged. Lunch was as unappealing as the thought of going home only to sleep, wake up, and endure two more days until the weekend.

And still Mulder didn't call.

She'd known. Diana had startled them Monday, passing too close to their desks on her purposed walk to Kersh's office, X-Files folder in hand. Scully'd locked eyes with Mulder and watched him ping pong from her face to the clock for the next forty-five minutes until Diana emerged, victorious, from their superior's office.

It had been-- was-- a legitimate file. Too legitimate, too perfect. Perfectly selected, she suspected; as were Diana's perfectly legitimate reasons why Scully couldn't join the case. Fox, I just wrangled Kersh for almost an hour. He's mad as it is that I managed to grab one of you. If I'd bargained for two, neither of you would be able to go and the Kernwyckles would be robbed of proper justice. Would that be fair? Perfectly rational. Scully hadn't trusted her for a second but couldn't reasonably deny that the case needed her partner's expertise.

To his credit, Mulder had waited until Diana left before discreetly promising to keep her abreast of the details. She'd deflected; but he'd kept his word, checking in at the bullpen's lunchtime, checking in again right before she settled into bed. I'll be in and out, Scully, and back before you know it.

And he hadn't called since.

She knew how he was, of course; his stubborn ways and his single-mindedness when it came to solving a case were some of his most endearing traits. At least they were when she was around and knew what was happening.

It had been more than 12 hours since she’d last heard from him. That in itself wasn’t unusual; last night’s whispered promises that came with a hint of skepticism towards Diana’s motives, however, made Scully’s alarm bells go off.

Something, she figured, was wrong.

Asking Kersh for details about the case Diana had dangled in front of Mulder was fruitless. Was there anyone else Agent Fowley might have confided it? For the first time that day, Scully felt a sense of direction.

She couldn’t find Agent Spender anywhere and when she asked about him, she was told he had called in sick. That wasn’t like the young Agent at all. Scully’s stomach knotted more tightly. Her gut was screaming at her.

“Agent Scully?” Frohike’s voice was caught between a cough and disbelief when he picked up her call. “Did anything happen?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.” She quickly filled him in and listened as Byers and Langly joined the conversation. There was furious typing in the background and grumbling. She distinctly heard one of them mutter the word fuck, which clued her in that something was not right.

“Don’t tell Mulder,” Frohike said, “but we put trackers in his shoes after the Bermuda Triangle disaster.”

“You did what?” She shook her head; there was no time to be outraged. Not when Mulder’s life was possibly on the line.

“Not all of them,” Langly chimed in.

“He’s not moving,” Byers said in a somber voice. “According to the data he hasn’t moved for hours.”

“What does that mean?” Scully heard her voice wobble.

“It could mean any number of things,” Byers said, his voice gentle. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“He was supposed to call me.” She sounded like a jilted wife but she couldn’t care for that either. Right from the moment Diana had shown up with the case, she had known something wasn’t right. It had been in the way she’d snaked around Mulder, luring him into her trap.

“Where is he?” Scully asked. The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. “I need to know where she took him.”

“She?”

“Diana Fowley.”

“What does she have to do with this?” Byers asked.

“She convinced Kersh to let Mulder help her out on a case. They left yesterday. He called last night and he-” Scully closed her eyes against threatening tears. She had known it. Last night, when Mulder called, and he’d joked, and he’d made promises, and her own voice hadn’t been as steady as it should have been, she had kept quiet. What could she have done? Ask him to abandon the case, ditch Diana and come back home? She’d had no right. She had no right to ask his friends to find out about his whereabouts either. But that wasn't stopping her.

“He promised to call me with more details. But he hasn’t called.”

“We’ll send you the coordinates,” Frohike said. “He’s in Raleigh, North Carolina. Do you need us to-”

“I need you on stand-by,” she said, her heart hammering in her chest. She wrote down the coordinates Byers gave her and stared at them. She folded the note and put it in her pocket. No one here at the Hoover building bat an eye when she left early.

She had to go save her partner.

#thank you for sending me the beginning!#i tried i really did #this is all that came out of me :/#xf fanfic

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manorpunk · 7 months ago

Text

3️⃣

History only makes sense in retrospect.

Take, for example, the decade-long period of the French Revolution, or the decades between World War I and World War II. A decade is like a blip to the casual historian, a mere moment, so short it was nearly one-dimensional, like a line separating the before from the after. Those who lived through it, however, must have spent years wondering each morning whether their current government and/or life would still exist by lunchtime, and even when the dust finally settles, that’s not really a feeling that one can easily forget. People can only draw neat, dispassionate little lines around such events when they no longer live in its shadow, and the shadow of the Polycrisis still loomed menacingly over the American League.

There were some who were eager to move on, who would say that progress is always disruptive - the old must be dismantled to make way for the new. Others would say that it was one thing to have a controlled demolition, and an entirely separate thing to wake up one day to find that your electricity and plumbing were no longer working, and the government was not going to help you because its existence was tenuous at best, and all of the sub-contracted third-party subsidiaries who actually did the work of repairing power grids refused to take responsibility with your piddly little suburb because they were too busy trying to keep the lights on in places that ‘actually mattered.’

The causes of the Polycrisis were many and varied, hence the name, but a certain pattern had emerged in retrospect - climate change caused natural disasters, natural disasters destroyed infrastructure, destroyed infrastructure caused economic collapse, economic collapse caused political collapse. Casual historians might note how that pattern echoed the fall of most empires going back to the fall of Rome. But it was never supposed to happen to America. The blessed antipodes were not supposed to be like everywhere else. They were supposed to be where the lights always stayed on. Always.

Well, sometimes.

As the US federal government shrank, retreated, and finally collapsed, new states sprang up soon after. New England, Tidewater, and the Free Imperial New York drew their lines along the east coast; Cascadia created itself and formed a personal union with the Californian Commonwealth on the west coast after the Jefferson Rebellion was put down; and the Texaplex Megapole asserted its authority over Texas and neighboring states promising protection against Norteño incursions. The Great Lakes Republic formed shortly and reluctantly afterwards, becoming a sprawling Germany-esque collection of mid-sized cities jockeying against one another.

The rest of America, its vast and abandoned plains, its hollowed-out mountains and sinking coasts, became ‘the manors,’ places where power had devolved down to the newest class of rural gentry: fast food franchisees, car dealerships, beverage distributors, and the like. They were small-business tyrants and petite-bourgeoise corporate middlemen who had spent their lives wishing for the government to hurry up and collapse already so that they could live out their fantasies of being petty kings, bandit chiefs, and lords of the manor (hence the name). They would not give up their fantasies without a bitter and bloody fight.

Also, Orlando had become the microstate of Disneystadt, the Founderist equivalent of Vatican City.

Also, the western side of Appalachia was now a khaganate.

Perhaps one day people would see it as something like the French Revolution or interwar period, as a goofy but brief period of liminal turmoil wedged between two separate worlds. Here is how some of her contemporaries saw it:

“They elected fucking Spongebob president,” said Cornelius Mammon, the pale and wraithlike governor of New England, seated at one end of a long semicircular table, lined with chairs along its curve, all facing a gigantic wall-mounted screen on the far end of the room. ‘Old money’ seemed inadequate to describe the austere and sunken appearance of Cornelius; he was more like undead money.

On the one hand, New England was populous, urbanized, relatively geographically sensible, united by a distinct and storied culture, and had been poised to shrug off the Polycrisis and carry on as normal. On the other hand, Boston and Philadelphia.

“Here I thought things were going to get back to normal,” Cornelius continued hoarily, “and now she’s going to rename the White House to ‘the Fun Zone.’ This is why democracy was a mistake.”

“Normal?” Young Oldman, governor of the Tidewater region, scoffed. He had a calculated plain appearance, revealing little about himself. Even his skin was a beige ‘off-white’ color that made people guess whether he was biracial or Middle Eastern or just a white guy with a tan. Ruling over the former head of the imperial American government and its intelligence apparatus, Young had learned to play it so close to the vest you’d need a seam ripper to get any answers out of him. He always kept his mouth shut.

Well, sometimes.

“Would that Sunny were some unwelcome intrusion of oddness into an otherwise august body. Have you seen the other nut bars we’ve been packed in here with?” Young jabbed a thumb at his neighbor, Vinny Vidivici, mayor of Free Imperial New York, who looked like a clogged shower drain that had gained sentience and put on a suit.

“You folks ever been to New York? We exchange money for goods and services there. Greatest fuckin city in the world baby,” Vinny said.

Young nodded and silently daydreamed about hunting him for sport.

“Personally, I think Sunny is just some GLN cabalist with a voice modulator,” said Johann van Gekkehuis, the pasty, gravelly-voiced, flannel-wearing governor of the Great Lakes Republic, with a bushy copper beard and a receding hairline, “have you ever seen her and Harold in the same room?”

“Yes,” said Young. Just because he played it close to the vest didn’t mean he couldn’t mess with people, and Johann was easy to mess with.

Johann had made his bones as a podcaster and had a natural talent for disguising all manner of conspiracy theories and ostensibly playful bigotry as good old-fashioned hard-nosed socialism. But being a conspiracy theorist wasn’t fun anymore. There was no point. The globalist puppet-masters didn’t hide in shadowy backrooms. They had HR departments, they had newsletters, they sent spam emails demonstrating the ways they controlled and surveilled every moment of your life, and that was so much more demoralizing than keeping it secret.

Behind Johann paced a meticulously handsome black man in a crisp navy blue suit, his eyes hidden behind a large pair of shades. He nodded to himself as he walked and talked into his headset. He was Michael McCoy, governor of the Piedmont region. Piedmont, encompassing the eastern half of Georgia and the Carolinas, was one of the newer states, and its constituents had carried the extra burden of rebuilding and reorienting themselves after the race war. They finished what the Northerners had started and then abandoned, two hundred years ago almost exactly, Northerners who decided they would let millions of black people linger as third-class citizens rather than hang even a few openly seditious gentlemen. But not Michael McCoy. Enough with being respectable, enough with being nonviolent, enough with taking the high road. Michael McCoy wanted blood.

That was a lie - Michael McCoy was an agricultural manager who rose to prominence shortly after the bloodshed had ended thanks to a series of excellent ad campaigns and his public image as a squeaky-clean family man. He simply enjoyed a victory lap as much as the next guy. And maybe wanted a little blood.

“Listen,” Michael said into his headpiece, “I’m not saying we need the change to be permanent. I just want it to be called ‘N[redacted]land’ for like a couple hours, then it can go back to being Piedmont. We don’t even have to tell anyone else about it.”

(Certain words have been redacted in the interest of not saying them. If you wish to see racial slurs, they can be unlocked by submitting proof of relevant ancestry to your local department of reclamation).

He listened through his earpiece, then scowled. “Why? I’ll tell you why - because then Sunny would have to say it on camera, and that would be fucking hilarious. See? You laughed, you get it. You want to know what would happen. It’s - listen, just - yeah - no - if - alright, alright, fine,” he sighed, “no name change. It’s staying as Piedmont. Y’all pussies.”

The atmosphere of general grumbling was interrupted by a choir of air horns blaring the opening bars to the Star Spangled Banner. The massive screen at the far end of the room turned itself on, revealing a towering Sunny Roosevelt with a long red dress and a thin, fuming smile.

“Hi! Wow. I heard all of that,” she said.

Michael McCoy took off his headset and looked up. “Miss Roosevelt, I have an urgent request-“

“No. Let’s get a few things straight here-” Sunny began.

“No, let’s you get something straight,” Cornelius fumed, jabbing a bony finger at her and half-standing up, “you have no power over us. You’re a fucking mascot, and we are the directors of-”

“Michael, slap him,” Sunny said.

Michael turned, grinned, and dutifully slapped Cornelius across the face in one smooth unhesitating motion. Cornelius was stunned into silence, looking between the two of them, not sure who to fume at. Young bit back a smile. Sunny pounced on the momentary silence.

“Okay, thing one - people actually like mascots. They do not like a bunch of rich old ghouls who are three minutes away from eating each other alive. Thing two - I’m so much more than a mascot. I’m a widely-beloved celebrity with millions of psycho-sexually obsessed followers hanging on my every word. So, what do you think that means for the next person who pisses me off?”

Nobody said a word, but as they pondered the threat of a weaponized legion of John Hinckleys, there was the sound of several sphincters involuntarily clenching (for the curious, it sounded a little like jumping on a rubber mat).

“That’s what I thought. You see this?” Sunny pointed at her own face, “this is Angry Sunny. You get Angry Sunny because you weren’t niceys to me. If you are niceys to me, you get Happy Sunny, and you want Happy Sunny. Happy Sunny will get you re-elected. Angry Sunny will kill you. Am I understood?”

There was a nervous, shifting silence as the east coast branch of Neo-Congress began to digest their new situation, except for Michael, who was hoping he would get to slap someone again.

“Am I understood?” she barked.

There were guilty, mumbled agreements. That would have to do for now. Sunny snapped her fingers. Her red dress became shorter and frillier. A blue collar lined with white stars appeared on her shoulders. Even the lines of her face became softer and more youthful. Happy Sunny clasped her hands together and smiled radiantly.

“That’s great! I’m so glad we got that little whoopsie-doodle figured out, and I’m sure it won’t happen again. I’m looking forward to working with all of you towards our common goal of making America… well, extant again.”

#manorpunk #heaven is falling #I am making myself post this instead of continuing to fiddle with it n more days #I have a doc now where I keep all the mini-scenes I trimmed and it is GROWING

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creedslove · 8 months ago

Text

EASTER WITH DAVE YORK 🔪 🐇 - HEADCANONS

Dave York x f!reader

A/N: just what I picture spending this day with Dave would be like 🐰 Happy Easter besties and Dave apologists™

• Dave's got a sweet tooth and nothing will ever convince me otherwise; he loves sweets, candies and above all, chocolate but his job demands him to keep fit and in shape under any circumstances, so besides all the working out he does nearly everyday, he also keeps himself in check, controlling his eating habits which means he restrains himself from eating too much sugar on regular basis

• but Easter he doesn't have to keep himself from enjoying things too much, quite the opposite, it's the day he actually allows himself to eat whatever he wants and you take the opportunity to spoil your handsome boyfriend. So you start by making him pancakes and chocolate chip cookies for breakfast, Dave loves it! He's excited to see you care so much for him, and he eats everything up

• of course you will exchange chocolate, just like the Easter tradition says, but it's not just any chocolate, it's BELGIUM CHOCOLATE 🤌 and he's immediately thrilled by it, you know how much he loves it and it warms your heart to see Dave's eyes sparkling over something so simple such as a chocolate

• but Easter Sundays aren't just a picnic either, because of course he's gotta visit his girls, even if it's just to drop by their gifts, but you know it always takes a toll on him, because Carol makes sure to annoy the hell out of him, and worst of all: using the kids for it

• ideally, Dave would prefer to spend some time with you and the girls, working on some bonding time and have fun as a family, but since the girls were little monsters towards you, acting up and being impolite, plus how Carol reacted afterwards, you both got into an agreement you wouldn't do it again, so he goes out to spend time with them and then comes back to you

• however, you both know it will probably be a disaster but what could he do? He missed his girls and he had made - with your help - a lovely Easter basket with some chocolate eggs, some of their favorite candy, a lip gloss each and a plushie bunny, just like when they were little, and he was hoping they'd be happy with it

• they weren't; and they didn't even try to hide it. They just got disappointed because Carol said if Dave spent too much on you, then he should give them new iPads for Easter and that's what they expected so when they saw the basket, they both rolled their eyes

"thanks dad"

"did you like it, baby?"

"yeah, whatever"

• and let me tell you: Dave kills people, he's rough and tough but those girls have the power to gut him, and after spending a lunchtime and mid afternoon clearly being told he's just bothering them or he's lame, he decided to take them back to their mother's and head home to you, regretting not spending Easter with someone who really deserved it

• when he got home earlier, you were surprised, thinking he would be home only later for dinner, but judging by his upset face, you could tell those means girls had to do with it. You hugged him and told him you'd make him great dinner, but he said no, instead, he told you you should both go out to eat at a nice restaurant

• you agreed, picking one you knew Dave loved and going with him to try and cheer him up. Easter was such a nice date, you hated he got upset because of his daughters' behavior and wanted him to have a special evening, so after the delicious dinner, you and him got home, telling Dave to wait for you in bed, you showed up to him in bunny ears and a bunny tail butt plug

• it was enough to cheer him up and make him excited, especially when he pulled you to him and you bounced on him like the naughty little bunny you were

• once you were both done, Dave held you tight against him, caressing your skin gently as you nuzzled his chest

"you know, honey... I've been thinking... Why don't we have a baby?"

• he casually said it, truth was: Dave missed being a dad, but above all, he missed having a child who actually loved him as a father and he knew things would work out with you this time because unlike his first marriage, your relationship with him was based on mutual love, passion and respect 💗

____

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal headcanon #pedro pascal headcanons #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x y/n #dave york fanfiction #dave york fanfic #dave york headcanon #dave york headcanons

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hebuiltfive · 2 months ago

Note

Sooo the prompt thingy I misread and tried to make a prompt - most were kind of romantic which given the pair was a no but then as I cycled through this one came up…

Alan holding Scott's hands when they are shaking.

Which might be rather interesting if it grabs you!?!

Better late than never, right? Sorry it's taken me months to get back to you on this. I'm hoping it's worth the wait. The prompt definitely grabbed me!

Disclaimer to say this is a three chapter story, with no current plans on continuing it, and it does end on a cliffhanger. Also, we don't actually get to the prompt until the last chapter... There was a bit of exposition that needed doing first.

I hope you enjoy it though! 💙 AO3 here

Specter: The Discovery

Ch.1 - The Lunar Expansion And Underground Land Identification Corporation

“Thunderbird Five, do you copy? John, can you… Please, can you hear me?”

He wouldn’t break down into tears, no matter how badly the dams wanted to break. Crying would solve nothing and Alan really, really needed to get this situation solved before it got any worse.

Tapping his comms again, trying not to let his frustration and fear get the better of him, Alan sniffled, faking his best smile. “John, I really could use some of your insanely wise wisdom right about now.”

But the line remained stone cold dead.

14:05

John had relayed the call regarding the four trapped lunar miners at lunchtime.

Alan had launched Thunderbird Three not twenty minutes later, Scott on his left acting as his co-pilot.

There had been nothing in the mission brief to suggest they approach the disaster zone with any more caution than normal. It was, from the information John had received from the ground team, a fairly simple extraction mission. In hindsight, the lack of information that John had been given should have had alarm bells ringing in all their heads.

“What were they even excavating down there?” Scott had asked the valid question once John had given them the very quick lowdown.

“They weren’t clear with me on that.” John replied, the irritation evident in his voice. “All they mentioned was something about a colony.”

Alan had scoffed at that. “On the Moon? Do they not know there’s a successful and vibrant civilisation being built on Mars right now? Who would want to make a new base on the Moon?”

“Uncle Lee still has a fondness for the Moon.” Scott had commented without taking his eyes off the colourful screen of readouts in front of him. He flicked through the various bits of data, his expression growing more and more taut with each swipe. There was not one report that was fully completed, all having various black lines and CLASSIFIED — DO NOT READ signs strewn across the pages. The holograms were a jigsaw of information, no one piece fully complete and legible, and Scott was not happy about it.

“That’s more sentimental.” John pointed out. “Besides, bases and colonies are two very different things. The Moon is a great half-way point to Mars to set up a base, Alan, but that isn’t what they seem to be doing.”

Defeated, Scott had banished the data away from his view with an exasperated sigh. “What did you say the name of this company was again, John?”

“I didn’t. It’s some new start-up, I think. I hadn’t heard about until we got the call. Apparently their business is called ‘The Lunar Expansion and Underground Land Identification Corporation’. If you’re pressed for time, they also go by ‘The Lunar Expansion Co.’ for short.”

Alan hadn’t been impressed with the company’s choice of name and had fought back his urge to eye-roll upon hearing it. Whoever was responsible for creating that mess of a title needed a serious lesson in how to name a company properly. Take their two family businesses — Tracy Industries and International Rescue — they were short, sweet and to the point. Bonus points for their acronyms being easy to remember; TI and IR. They virtually roll off the consumer’s tongue!

LEULIC, however? What kind of an acronym was that? Alan didn’t claim to know much about business, and often left the more complicated matters to his older brothers, but even he knew catchiness was a key selling point when it came to a name! This company’s was too much of a mouthful, and nobody was going to remember LEULIC!

“So, they’re identifying land to expand upon?”

“That’s the idea, Scott, at least from the limited information they’ve given me. No-one on their end has been willing to divulge anything else.”

“Keep talking with them. See if you can get them to open up a bit more. The more we know, the better it’ll be when we get there.”

“F.A.B.”

15:23

Thunderbird Three’s retros fired as they entered the Moon’s orbit.

The sight was one Alan was sure he’d never get used to. He wasn’t sure he wanted to get used to it.

Being International Rescue’s main astronaut, Alan had flown his red rocket to the likes of Mars and Europa, and he had set foot on Haley’s Comet. One day, he dreamed he’d travel to the edge of the solar system in his faithful Thunderbird.

But the Moon?

The Moon meant so much more to him. The Moon was far more special.

Earth’s natural satellite, along with the stars that shared the night-sky, had been the first celestial object that Alan had ever set his eyes upon. With all her swirls and craters, it had been the foundations of all of Alan’s astronaut dreams as a child. Unlike the other planets in the solar system, where one needed a telescope to fully appreciate their beauty, the Moon was almost always visible from Earth with the naked eye. Alan had never mistaken the Moon for a bright star, as he had so often done with the other planets. Even during the light of day, the familiar rock could sometimes be seen, still visible despite the hour.

Always constant, always there.

The Moon.

Beyond that, however, the Moon had been Dad and Uncle Lee’s home for a while. His brothers used to call it ‘Dad’s Office’ and, whenever Alan was missing him, he had taken comfort in the ability to see the rock upon which his Dad had been living and working.

The Moon would never not be special for Alan. He would never tire of visiting it, nor would he ever grow bored of observing it.

As final preparations were made to land and the grey surface spread across Thunderbird Three’s cockpit windows, Alan couldn’t help the small smile that gently formed on his lips.

Three hit the dusty surface with a soft thud.

Scott wasted no time in unbuckling himself from the co-pilot chair. He attached his helmet and checked his wrist unit. A hologram of data emerged, hovering in the air above his arm. Parts were still blocked off, much to Scott’s annoyance, but he swiped through until he found the page he was looking for.

A map that John had managed to wrangle from the Lunar Expansion company.

“We only have two hours until those workers run out of oxygen.”

As Alan followed Scott’s lead, unclipping his helmet from his belt and assessing his own equipment, four blips on the map began to flash; the four trapped miners.

Scott pointed to it. “We’re approximately five miles south of the disaster zone. We’ll take the Explorer Pod and travel north until we meet them. We need to work fast. Time isn’t on our side.”

“Relax, Scott. This is as simple as a mission can be.”

His brother scowled. “You should know better than to use the S word, Alan.”

“Oh, come on! The company with the stupidly long name, trying to create a colony on the Moon?” Alan clicked his helmet into place. The oxygen from his own tank hissed as his suit became airtight. “We’ll be home in time for dinner!”

16:04

The red shell of Three grew smaller and smaller as they travelled across the dusty lunar terrain. Alan tried not to look back. Upon leaving Three’s cockpit, a gnawing sense of doubt over the mission began to rear its head. No matter how much he tried to shake it, the feeling refused to leave him. Glancing back towards his Thunderbird, towards their only ride back home, and watching it shrink in the distance didn’t help matters.

By the time they arrived at the base — if it could even be called such; one lunar rover transporter, two mobile units and a very large drill could hardly be taken seriously as a base! And these people were supposedly trying to build a colony? — Scott and Alan were surprised to see the Lunar team having already begun rescue operations. It was a relief to see that the work done by the Lunar team hadn’t been a complete botch job.

The drill, specially crafted to break apart the lunar surface, had been deployed cautiously in an attempt to burrow a new hole. According to Meg, the leader of the group of miners, the new hole had been excavated beside the first one, but Alan had a hard time figuring out exactly where this initial hole had supposed to have been. Either the team had already done a good job at covering it back over, knowing they wouldn’t be needing it again, or… Alan wasn’t sure what the or was. All he knew was that his rising sense of dread was deepening with each passing second.

The Lunar team had managed to reach the collapsed cavern, where the four trapped miners had been cowering, in less than an hour. Scott had scanned the area briefly, sending his data back to Thunderbird Five. He didn’t bother waiting for John to reply, jumping straight into the action with easy commands and direct instructions for the rest of them, Alan included.

A winch secured. A line tightened. Scott hooked in.

The first two miners were an easy score. Alan had opened comms to inform John that Scott was like the claw in an arcade machine and the miners were the prizes he was winning, only there was no sarcastic retort about how Scott was terrible at the claw machines and that he’d believe it when he saw it.

There was no reply at all. John’s communications were silent.

The situation wasn’t dire, the mission was running smoothly, so why was John so quiet? Alan thought back to the data that Scott had sent him earlier. There had been no response to that message either.

“Hey, Scott…” Alan began as his brother ascended from the hole for the third time, slightly wounded miner under his arm.

“Can’t stop, Allie. The last one’s disappeared.”

Alan ceased his prodding and poking of his wrist unit to glance up at Scott. His brow creased, perplexed. “What do you mean ‘disappeared’? It’s a cave-in. Where else could he have gone?”

Scott rose both his arms up in an exasperated shrug. “All I know is that he was there when I was retrieving Miner Two but he was gone when I went back for this one.”

“Does she not know where he went?”

“Shock.” Scott explained, tugging again on the rope strapped to his waist. “Couldn’t get anything from her.”

The comms situation could wait, Alan decided. He lowered his wrist and began to set up his own winch system.

“No, Alan, you stay here.”

“Two pairs of eyes are better than one.”

“Yes, but it’s better if you remain top-side for now.”

“If you’re expecting trouble, it’s probably better if I come down with you.”

“Who said I’m expecting trouble?”

“Your face, your voice, your general ‘must keep Alan out of harm’s way’ schtick.”

Once upon a time, Alan resented his older brothers for trying to keep him out of the loop. Even at the age of ten, when they tried to keep the worst parts of Dad’s explosion from him, Alan had insisted he’d been old enough to deal with it all. Nowadays, he understood, even if he still didn’t always agree with it.

Scott chuckled. “I’m not apologising for it, Alan.”

“I don’t like this, Scott.”

He had dropped his voice down to a whisper so only his brother could hear. Scott strolled over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Despite Alan’s growth spurt a few years prior, he still wasn’t quite at Scott’s height, and so his brother tilted his head down. “Like you said, simple mission, right?”

“I definitely think I spoke too soon.”

“Also like you said,” Scott continued, not allowing Alan the chance to feel guilty for accidentally jinxing their mission, “it’s caved-in. There’s hardly many places he could be. I’ll be out again before you know it, missing miner in tow, alright?”

Alan could feel his goosebumps rising. His cheek twitched.

“Hey?” Scott patted his shoulder before letting go. “Time is running out.”

His brother had tried to reassure him, but Alan felt no more reassured than he did twenty seconds before. He gave Scott his best smile regardless. Scott’s returning smile was doubtful in itself. Alan knew his brother too well for Scott to hide the concern in his eyes.

He watched as his brother lowered himself over the edge of the hole, as the blue and grey of his uniform slowly descended down into the dark abyss, with his gut instincts screaming at him to pull him back up.

Jeff had always taught his boys to never discount their instincts, to always trust what they felt, no matter how ridiculous it might have been. Alan ignored those words of wisdom. He ignored his instincts entirely, opting instead to tend to the shocked miners. His mind, he decided, just needed something else to occupy it until Scott got back.

Only Scott wasn’t coming back, and Alan’s realisation of that came all too late.

#thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds are go #alan tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #thunderfam #prompt fill #idontknowreallywhy #five fics #fic: specter

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wingsofhcpe · 1 year ago

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sometimes I remember that Treville canonically saw:

an alcoholic, disgraced nobleman who gave up on his previous life after irrefutable heartbreak

a black man from the slums that was also the bastard son of his asshole ex-best-friend

a spanish-french son of a sex worker that had ran away from home & his implied abusive bio father

and a freshly orphaned country boy with zero braincells who had just come to Paris all alone

and immediately decided that "yes, these are my sons. My children. I would die for them and I would also kill for them, and although my number one concern is my duty I would turn France upside down for their sakes, even if I try to pretend otherwise. They're stupid and disasters and almost get themselves brutally killed every other day, they have caused multiple large-scale diplomatic incidents and if I leave them unattended they will probably burn all of Europe down to the grown before lunchtime. But they're my soldiers and my sons, and I'm their captain and their father, and there is nothing I wouldn't do for them. And I will eventually sacrifice myself to protect the king of France, but ultimately it's in my sons' arms I'll die in, and so I will die happy and at peace."

And that's canon. That's, like, actually what happened in the show. I am so damn serious, if you want one of the best Found Family depictions in modern media watch bbc musketeers right now.

#bonus: he saw a feisty seamstress and a feral murderess and went “yup these are my daughters they live here now bye”#bbc musketeers #captain treville #treville #athos #comte de la fere #porthos #porthos du vallon #aramis #rene d'herblay #d'artagnan #constance bonacieux #milady de winter #the musketeers

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empressofthesunwriter · 1 month ago

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Beauty Is A Curse

Queen B.

Beauty Queen.

Wear your mask, don't let them see.

The Girl underneath.

Hide, hide, hide under snide and pride.

Use a sharp tongue to make them bow.

You are the Queen of this school.

Beautiful, so beautiful, yet deep down, you feel so vacant.

You scream inside and no one hears.

They love your face, but what about your soul?

Beauty is a curse for sure.

Four

#NO COMMENTS NO CHAPTER

(*)

Paulina was scared.

She never felt such terror like this.

And the best part was that Danny was away and couldn't even talk her down.

Shaking sitting in her Hideout, thinking about what happened these days.

When she had gone to the cinema with Star, they had seen the cardboard cutout for the newest Sayonara Pussycat movie.

Star had out loud wished to be as cute as the anime cat and...poof she turned into a chibi-version of herself.

Paulina just stared on with an open mouth at how all adored and celebrated her transformed friend.

She didn't know what to do.

Then a flash of white and black tackled Chibi-Star and they were gone.

Finally, Paulina could move again.

Star was a cruel bitch, but she was still her best friend.

So Paulina searched for her and both friends found each other in a storage room of the cinema.

Star didn't remember anything, only her head hurt.

This already was creepy and scary, however, what happened the next day to herself, set Paulina off.

Till now she couldn't explain it.

One moment she was walking outside school, enjoying her lunchtime, the next...it was like she had fallen asleep.

She only remembered how a voice that wasn't hers yelled out loud that she wasn't friends with Danny anymore before the narcotic feeling left her and she had control over her body again.

Ignoring all the confused stares of her classmates, she hightailed out of the situation.

What was going on in Amity Park?

The Latina had tried talking to Danny, but to her luck, he caught a bad cold and now was off to Wisconsin with his family to participate in the college reunion of his parents.

What should she do?

Could she do something?

That's when a crazy idea formed in her head.

Fast she returned home and sat before her computer.

She took a deep breath, tipping supernatural activities into the search machine.

Anything that had happened couldn't be explained normally...so it had to be the opposite.

For hours, she read, and read, and read till she found something that fit.

Ghosts.

What experts wrote on their powers, came really close to what she had experienced.

Signing she looked at the website.

When Danny returned she needed to talk to him.

(*)

Danny was happy and surprised at how Paulina wanted to meet up with him in a secret place.

Of course, his brain got wild ideas, which he tried to calm down.

Still...if they did kiss this whole disaster of a weekend would turn out good.

He entered the abandoned warehouse where Paulina wanted to meet him and got up on the rooftop.

There he saw her in clothes he never guessed she owned.

A big black hoody, jogging pants and sneakers.

She was absolutely cute.

"Hey Paulina.", he greeted her warmly. "How are you? You sounded frantic on the phone."

His crush stepped to him and formally threw herself into his arms.

Danny blushed up a storm but held her tight as she started to unload all that had troubled her the past weeks.

Oh dear god, he felt so guilty.

Paulina had noted all the ghost activities and that he and Tucker, when he had ghost powers for a while, overshadow her didn't help his crush at all to stay calm.

"I-I researched.", she stuttered, while Danny caressed her long black hair. "It points all out to Ghosts...Danny, I am crazy?"

She looked into his eyes, tears falling down.

No...it broke his heart.

In a way, it was his fault that she was like this.

Sam and Tucker, mostly Sam, would probably have his head for it, however, Paulina deserved to know that he wouldn't let anything happen to her.

"No you are not crazy.", he assured her and made them both sit down on the ground. "I have to tell you something Paulina, but you have to swerve to not tell anyone."

Sniffling Paulina nodded.

So he started from the beginning.

How his parents made an inactive Ghost Portal, how he walked into it like a dumbass and it turned on and transformed him into a Half-Ghost.

How since then he fought ghosts left and right and all that she had seen and experienced had to do with his superhero side job.

"I never wanted to hurt anybody, especially you, some kind of hero I am.", he ended.

Fearful of her reaction he looked up and found a pensive Paulina.

She didn't scream, she didn't call him a freak, she calmly asked more questions to understand.

It seemed like hours they sat on this rooftop till Paulina was satisfied.

"I won't say I am happy about that you and your friend overshadow me.", she made clear. "But Danny you are a hero and use your powers for good. Thank you for trusting me with your secret I won't tell a soul."

"I'm glad I could calm you down Paulina, I was worried."

Shy he took her hand and caressed it.

This made Paulina blush cutely before she leaned in and gave him a cheek kiss, which made now him blush.

Now they were both blushing messes, smiling like lovey-dovey idiots at each other.

They both felt how their relationship turned deeper and more intimate.

And maybe one day they would have the courage to tell the other what they really felt.

But for the moment Danny helped her up and asked grinning: "Would you like to go on a flight?"

"I would love to.", agreed Paulina smiling.

In wonder, she saw how Danny transformed into his ghost half.

He was still the most handsome boy she knew.

Danny picked her up bridal-style, which made Paulina gasp and wrap her arms around his neck and shoot with her into the sky.

At first, Paulina had her eyes closed before Danny encouraged her to open them.

Since she trusted him with her life she did.

"Oh my gosh!", she gasped and looked at the faraway ground and then up to the starry sky above them. "It's absolutely beautiful!"

"This is my favourite part of my powers.", confessed Danny. "I love flying!"

Paulina gripped his neck harder and let out a pretty laugh as he flowed up higher.

"I can totally agree with that!"

It seemed they flew over Amity Park for hours before Danny brought her safely home.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek, which made him blush of course and both promised to see each other tomorrow in school.

With a lighter and happier heart, Paulina falls asleep.

(*)

#NO COMMENTS NO CHAPTER

#danny phantom #danny fenton #danny fenton x paulina #danny phantom x paulina #paulina #paulina sanchez #pink astronaut #no comments no chapter

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p4ndawrites · 1 year ago

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Office Love

Tag: Kenma fluff, NB reader, mention of a female reader (Kuroo's fiancee), shy and awkward reader and Kenma.

Hope you enjoy!

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Kenma watched the newest member of his team nearly walk into the door, making him laugh softly. They were indeed somewhat strange, but that made it all the more intriguing to learn more about them. How someone could be amazing at game designing and a walking disaster a few seconds later intrigued him. Not to mention the fact that they struggled to say a word to him during their interview but could immediately rant about the newest season of MHA when he mentioned that he had been late to a meeting due to binge-watching the said anime. It was a cute idea that they were so timid yet brightened at any mention of one of their interests, and boy did it make him want to know more about the strange game designer.

Also maybe it was the fact that they had been so similar that it hadn't been funny. Anime and games had been his world since well, forever really. I mean volleyball had been an interesting thing to do but he had partially done it for Kuroo so it couldn't compete. He had always been the quiet geek with his pudding-like hair and obsession with cats so it was refreshing when he met someone who reminded him of the person he used to be in high school. Not that he changed a bit. Nope, his lack of dating and his friend circle other than the volleyball players could testify to that.

He watched as they groaned, hand securing the newest model figurine that they had created for the launch of their new Otome game. They had been trying to branch out of their usual action and sport-themed games by trying a new type of game consisting of love and a storyline which had taken his gaming company to a new level. Them being the head of designs had been spectacular, the characters highlighting a boyish charm that went along with the tragic love story themed around one's high-school experience. The boys had managed to fit the storyline, each showing their hidden charms but what made him raise an eyebrow when he checked the designs was the shy geek who oddly resembled the pudding head himself. Not to mention that they had openly said Sora Hizashi (his assigned name) had been their favorite character because of his adorable yet neutral personality. One that doesn't express emotions as openly as others and is adorable when confused about certain emotions that he could not understand. I mean did they even try to hide who they based the lovely character on? No, no they most certainly did not.

He smiled slightly before flopping back down on his chair as he stared off into space. How long had they been working for him now? A year? A year and a half? Gosh had it been that long, he truly wondered. To some, it would seem like they weren't all that special but to him, they had been so beautifully and perfectly them that he had managed to develop feelings for them. He had been tired of the dates Kuroo had set him up on, how everyone he'd been on a date with had never been honest with their true intentions but them, they couldn't lie to save their lives and it sure was adorable.

I mean it had been obvious that the anime-obsessed designer had a thing for their boss. The thought itself brought a grin on his face with a shake of his head as he thought of the not-so-subtle things they did to make sure that he was always happy and the slight change of plans that would happen when he seemed on the edge of passing out. How he never came into the office without there being coffee on his desk or how he always received a homemade meal around lunchtime after the time he had almost fainted because of his unhealthy eating habits. How he would receive little deserts and sweets when they went to purchase some for themselves, the shy smile when they mentioned that they had 'purchased too much' or 'thought he would like it' never failed to make his heart flutter. Each and everything thing they did had a purpose and he knew that the reason for all the deserts was because he mentioned how much he loved sweet things recently.

"Oh wow I'm shocked Kenma, are you smiling?" The voice of his best friend echoed in the room making him groan as he sat up straight. There stood the rooster, a smug smile settling across his lips as he all but knew what the pudding head had been thinking of.

"Why are you back so soon?" He asked boredly making Kuroo feign a look of hurt at his bestie. "I came back and this is how you treat me, you're so mean to me Kyanma!"

Kenma sighed before rubbing his temples as he could feel a headache coming soon. The bedhead had supposedly left Japan for what should have been a month as he traveled the world with his beloved Chibi-chan but now here he was, annoying the poor male.

"But to answer your question, my soon-to-be in-laws had thrown a birthday party for her so we came back for that. We're leaving the day after tomorrow." He said before grabbing the lollipop on the desk and quickly removing the wrapper before plopping it in his mouth. "I thought I'd come visit you to see how you're doing with your love problem but I see there's little to no progress on the situation" He sighed dramatically making Kenma roll his eyes.

"It's not that simple Kuroo"

"But it is. Ask them out like how I did with F/N!"

"Firstly F/N asked you out and secondly, you should understand since you were just as much a chicken as I was." The bedhead groaned slightly as he noticed how instead of taking his lovely advice to heart, he decided to target him instead.

"Well the point is you need a plus one for my wedding in two months or else F/N will kill you" Kenma gulped making Kuroo grin "And you know how feisty my chibi-chan is~"

"Fine but how should I ask them?"

" With a lovely 'Hey I like you let's date!"

"This is why f/n did it instead of you you wannabe rooster."

"Shush just do it gosh or should I call chibi-chan?"

"N-no fine, I'll do it..."

-----------‐----------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N smiled gently at the awkward male in front of them as he stood stiffly beside their desk.

"What can I help you with Kozume-san?"

"Uhm well, I bought this for you?" He rubbed his neck sheepishly before showing the bouquet of roses behind him. White, red, and pink mixed beautifully as they stared at the adorable mini bear attached to the ribbon of the bouquet.

"Oh wow... there beautiful" They glanced up at him as their eyes sparkled making his ears turn pink "Thank you Kozume-san"

"Kenma..."

"Hmm?"

"Kenma is fine. You can just call me Kenma" He spoke softly as he shifted uncomfortably before clearing his throat "Uhm... I-I wanted to ask if you're free this Saturday"

"Yes, I am. Is there something you need for work then?"

"No no. I just... wanted to take you out on a date. That's if you'd want to go out with me"

Y/N's face lit up as he felt his face gradually get warmer making him look down. How dare they be so adorable without trying to be? They're going to be the death of him.

"I would love to!" They smiled making him smile softly in return.

"Okay then I'll text you the details and I'll pick you up on Saturday."

"Yep, it's a date!"

Kenma smiled one more time before turning around and walking to the room as he all but glowed. Not that they were any different to him as he looked back at them to see them glancing softly at the bouquet in front of them. A date.

He had been lucky enough to get a date with the person of his dreams and he couldn't be more thrilled.

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Do not steal work or repost as your own

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu #kenma x reader #kenma x you #kozume kenma #he's so cute #Kuroo×OC

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