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mycrofts-gunbrella · 4 years ago

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Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part Six)

AN- Two chapters in one night... hope you like them! Soft Holmes Brothers scene at the end because, especially after the Eurus situation, the boys truly do love and care for each other! Not proof read either of these yet so apologies if there are mistakes!

Word Count- 4405

The younger brother's eyes had flicked over you both only momentarily, the tiniest flick up of his lips at the side of his mouth that disappeared so quickly it could have been misinterpreted for a twitch.

"Ever the delight, Sherlock." Mycroft spoke, standing straighter, his chin poking up a little higher. Sherlock glanced over his posture and rolled his eyes.

"Oh for God's sake don't start that Mycroft. Had I blamed you for everything I can assure you I wouldn't have bothered opening the door, don't make it so obvious that you care about my opinion of you- it's embarrassing for both of us." And with that he spun around and headed up the stairs to 221B, leaving the door to the flat wide open and disappearing into the bathroom.

"Well that was.."

"Easy? I told you that you shouldn't worry." You nudged Mycroft into the building before ascending the stairs.

"Sherlock Holmes, possibly the only man in the world to forgive somebody for nearly killing him in a heartbeat, but held a 6 month grudge when I took the last custard cream from the biscuit jar when I was 12.." Mycroft muttered, making his way into the flat and sitting beside you on the two seater sofa. John walked into the room from the kitchen shortly after, a tray of tea and biscuits in hand as he said his hellos.

"Figured I'd stick the kettle on when you said you were on your way.. Greg shouldn't be long now." He gave a smile, taking his place in his own armchair. "How have.." He glanced at Mycroft. "How have you been? He won't admit it, but Sherlock's been worried about you." Mycroft took a breath, sending a polite smile in the direction of the army doctor.

"Doctor Watson, I can assure you that I am fine and have been perfectly well looked after." His eyes flickered to you for a moment and then back to the doctor. "I presume the pair of you have held up well as I haven't heard any reports of gunfire towards the wall for a fair bit of time." John grinned, casting his eyes over to the smiley face on the wall that had thankfully been left alone.

"Good. Yeah, uh, things here have been.. good.. too." A blank stare matched with a more thoughtful raise of lips. ".. Very good, actually.."

"Catch." Sherlock came stalking into the room, a damp flannel thrown in Mycroft's general direction which he caught expertly, not allowing a single moist patch to appear on his clothing.

"And this is.."

"A flannel? Christ Mycroft has trauma affected your brain cells that much?" Sherlock quipped, flopping down into his armchair and lazily holding his hand out for his tea that was a mere few inches away from his fingers. John placed the mug in his hand without thought or argument, his fingers brushing over Sherlock's slightly before moving away. A biscuit soon followed, John holding out the digestive while Sherlock partly opened his lips, and shoving the food between them. It was your turn to raise your brow now, but you didn't say anything, instead just nudging Mycroft with your knee to make sure he had seen it too. Of course he had. "It's for your face, Y/N's lip balm is all round your mouth and it's making me feel a bit sick." John's eyes widened as he looked between the pair of you. You shrugged your shoulders and smiled, Mycroft simply sweeping away the slightly pink balm from underneath his lip and folding the wet cloth back up to place on the side. At least he hadn't picked up that you did it on purpose. Before anybody else could speak, the sound of someone bounding up the stairs filled the flat.

"Sorry I'm late, Ms Hudson let me in an- what did I miss?" Greg stood breathless at the door, satchel slung over his shoulder and a carrier bag in his other hand, staring at the apparent awkward glances shared between half the room. You stood from the sofa and headed over towards him, swiftly wrapping your arms around him and placing a small kiss on his cheek to say hello. He made his way into the room and perched on the arm of the sofa closest to Mycroft, casting another look at everybody when his question still hadn't been answered.

"Nothing of importance. Mycroft and Y/N have obviously decided to stop moping around each other like lovesick teenagers and finally admitted they've been infatuated with each other for years.. Now you're all caught up, can we get these papers sorted out so I can be more productive with my time?" Sherlock huffed.

"Nothing of importance? Don't be an arse Sherlock, that's excellent news." Greg clapped Mycroft on his shoulder and shot you a toothy grin. "Declaration in the park was it? Might be a good enough reason for me to not punch you for closing off St James'.." John's eyes widened more, if it were possible.

"You just.. closed off St James'? Can you even do-" The look Mycroft shot John made him cut his sentence short. "Right, yeah. British Government." He nodded, standing to go fetch Greg a coffee (yourself and Mycroft still held a shared judgement against Greg and his hatred for tea) and continuing to ask questions about your newly confirmed relationship. Mycroft sat awkwardly through the encounter- briefly talking about his emotions in front of you was one thing, a whole flat full of people was entirely different- so you gave his knee a quick squeeze and answered for him. "Who bit the bullet then?" John sat down. "Christ I know I mistook the pair of you being together when I met you, so surely these two have been waiting longer for you to get on with it." Greg grinned, nodding in agreement at John's assumption. Sherlock, on the other hand, stay lying on his chair completely unphased by the conversation going on around him.

"To cut a long story short, we were watching telly, I said Stephen Fry was a bit sexy, Mycroft informed me that he used to get told he had a slight resemblance to him, I realised I'd stuck my foot in it and had a ramble.. Went from there. Nothing too exciting, sorry." You left out the parts where the night before you had handled a broken Mycroft to the shower, how he had gripped onto you, how you held him as you slept. You also left out the way he had allowed himself to cry, how you held him while he wept- and, for that, Mycroft was incredibly thankful. Sherlock probably knew though, somehow, in his Sherlock way of knowing things- but he was either too kind to announce it to the room, or didn't care enough to waste his breath.. probably the latter.

"That's disappointing. You've mentioned about fancying Stephen Fry for years, this could have happened ages ago." John teased.

"Nothing compared to Hugh Laurie though. I'm pretty certain that I'm straight but I'd let him-"

"The papers!!" Sherlock's shout cut Greg's ramble off, making the silver haired man jump and grab his satchel, handing out the reports in a way that reminded you of a teacher with test papers.

"Right, yeah. Sorry. Basically the proper forms aren't ready for another week or so so these are just a few basic questions- nothing too in depth yet since I wanted to give you guys time to... yeah just basic for now." Mycroft chose to read through all the questions before answering them, whereas Sherlock hastily scribbled his response to each question as he went along- the smaller details in the Holmes brothers' differences are always interesting to stumble upon. As he held the page in his hands, you carefully leant over to have a glance at the questions, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder and your cheek resting just against your fingers- blissfully unaware at the 2 sets of eyes openly staring at your movements, and the one set that watched from the side. Greg was right, in a way, the questions definitely weren't as overbearing as they could be- but that doesn't mean it was an easy task. The questions targeted Mycroft a lot more than it did John and Sherlock, asking things about scenarios and situations that had occured before they were taken, how long it had been since they had any contact with Eurus prior to that evening/ what they discussed, and a few basic questions about any incentives Eurus may have had, and anything that aided her into her plan. Of course the papers weren't labelled with the sister's name, they were generically printed and typically handed out to anybody involved in any kind of criminal behaviours, but that didn't make it seem any less like these were questions that targeted Mycroft in particular. Mycroft took a deep breath and laid the papers back onto the coffee table in front of him, pulling a pen out of his pocket and beginning to write. In this moment you had noticed the small bounce of his left leg, a movement only ever shown by him in times where he had a particularly stressful day at work, or a troubling encounter with his brother- it was a movement that let you know his brain was running a mile a minute and he felt a little more overwhelmed that usual. Without making a point of it, you move your right hand to rest on his mid thigh, allowing your thumb to rub small shapes into his leg to show your support.

Turning your gaze to the rest of the room, you noticed Greg's eyes on you, a grin on his face that practically stretched to his ears. You rolled your eyes at him, using your other hand to flip him off and smiled.

It had taken just under two hours in total for the boys to finish completely (well, an hour and twenty minutes for the Holmes siblings, an extra forty minutes for John whose brain simply didn't work as fast as theirs to convey the information on the paper). The time had passed fairly quickly, with yourself and Greg not wanting to disturb the silence and instead just drinking your hot drinks and stealing a couple of biscuits from the tray. You gave Mycroft's leg one last squeeze before sitting back against the sofa, stretching a little after finally getting out of that position.

"Thanks again for getting this done today." Greg spoke, taking the papers in and putting them in a plastic folder. "I'd better be off anyway, get these filed in." He stood, heading for the front door and tripping over the carrier bag he had brought in with him earlier. "Shit, yeah I almost forgot." He picked up the bag and handed it to you. "Got your coat, and I may have accidentally read your mind if you had been talking about Stephen and Hugh.." You dug through the bag and grinned as you pulled out the box at the bottom.

"You, Gregory Lestrade, are a bloody legend. God I could kiss you!" Your boxset of 'A Bit of Fry and Laurie' rested in your hands and you showed it to Mycroft, beaming at him. His lips raised at your reaction, showing a small glint in his eye, as you explained how now the pair of you would have to binge watch it since Mycroft had never got round to watching them before. Greg barked out a laugh.

"I wouldn't. I don't fancy being hunted by Mycroft's secret services." Mycroft let out a small laugh himself. And with that, Greg was gone and left the flat to the four of you once more.

***

You hadn't stayed at the flat long before you all made your way to Angelo's restaurant, even managing to convince Mycroft to just take a cab rather than bothering his chauffeur for a 5 minute journey.

"Ahhh Mr Holmes, Doctor Watson!" Angelo greeted, pulling the aforementioned men into an awkward half embrace, half headlock. "Back again so soon? I shall get your usual table set up, grab some candles. Anything for you!" The pair of men awkwardly shifted out of the hold and Sherlock offered a smile.

"Not today Angelo, we need a table for four if that suits your capacities here?" Sherlock peered round at the tables inside.

"Of course, a double date, very lovely to see! Come, come!" He led the four of you inside, you grinning at Mycroft at Angelo's casual mentionings of Sherlock and John's usual 'romantic' set up. You were all ushered inside of a small booth and handed menus, the benches were small but tolerable, your thigh just brushing against Mycroft's, him offering a shy smile at the close contact. "You stay here, I'll get to work on those candles. Just for you, Mr Holmes." Angelo spoke again, clapping Sherlock on his shoulder and disappearing into the back of the restaurant.

"He's.. uh.. a bit enthusiastic sometimes." John spoke, his cheeks burning a little at the memories of previous encounters here.

"Quite. Seems a pleasurable fellow." Came Mycroft's response, glancing over the menu. It had taken no time at all for the restaurant owner to appear back with a handful of small tealight candles in glass jars, and a single flower resting in a vase to lay on the table, taking everybody's orders and leaving once again. Then as the food turned up, Sherlock began to prod at the chips on his plate with his knife.

"What are you doing? Eat your bloody food, Sherlock." John quipped, elbowing the man to his side.

"Don't want it.. whoever decided that dessert was only customary after a meal? I'd much rather wait." John gave Sherlock a look and he spoke again. "Don't give me that look, this was your idea. Who even suggests 'late lunch' as a valid meal time? It's impractical. I didn't eat breakfast because we didn't get out of bed until well past the respected breakfast hour.." 'We'.. you didn't press. "So I had a sandwich at lunch which has ruined my appetite for this. Then I'll be hungry again later, but later than dinner time because of how late this lunch is." Sherlock childishly squashed his chip with his thumb. "It's just ridiculous.. they keep adding new names for new meals at new hours, I feel like we're becoming Bobbits."

"Hobbits, brother mine." Mycroft corrected, the faintest smile playing at the side of his mouth as Sherlock's words sounded alarmingly like the ones he had told you only this morning- it was nice when they just got along.

"That's what I said."

"No, you said Bobbits."

"Boys!" John warned, and you broke out into a small fit of giggles.

"We really can't take you anywhere, can we?" You chimed in. Sherlock just huffed, stabbing a chip and eating it as John gave him a stern look. It was quite sweet, actually, watching them be all domestic. By the time you'd finished your meals, yours and John's plates were clear, Sherlock's leaving only a few chips and a mouthful of burger as he found, after starting to eat the food, that he really enjoyed it and wanted more. Mycroft, on the other hand, had managed to leave little over half of his spaghetti bolognese, making comments about the pasta being far too rubbery, or the sauce being too thin, crossing the cutlery over in the centre and making a dismissive comment about making something to eat when he got home- you all knew he wouldn't.

Sherlock had practically jumped for joy when Angelo came out with a tray of chocolate fudge cake, offering slices around the table which you all, bar Mycroft, accepted happily.

"I shan't spoil my appetite for when I get home." Was his small excuse, raising a hand to prevent Angelo from spouting his claims that he had the best cake in London and that he must have a piece, and instead asking for a coffee. Without words being spoken, John cast his eyes over to you and you offered a small sad smile. Nobody had told John of Mycroft's past, but he was a doctor and always knew when signs were displayed. You had taken an extra fork from Angelo just in case and took a small bite with your own fork, unable to let out the (embarrassingly erotic) moan that had escaped you.

"Christ he wasn't lying, this is incredible." You praised, taking another small piece on the second fork. "Mycroft please give it a try." You offered your hand out towards him, the sliver of cake resting on the tip of the fork's prongs. He looked over at it, his mind telling him to give it a go, at the very least because it had been offered by you, but the image of himself in the mirror this morning came back to mind. He declined the offer and you sighed. Mycroft truly did love cake, and any sweet things, so it was heartbreaking for you to see him turning it away because of the thoughts that ran through his brain. Sherlock had already cleared his plate by this point and stood up abruptly, hoisting his coat back over his shoulders.

"I'm going to go out for a cigarette, care to join me Mycroft?" He had asked, walking past the table. Mycroft creased his eyebrows into a frown.

"Sherlock, the pact? I haven't smoked for three years."

"Neither have I, let's go." Sherlock spoke back quickly, hoisting his brother from the booth and taking the pair of them outside. You raised a brow at John who simply shrugged his shoulders.

"I stopped questioning the pair of them and their motives a long time ago." He reasoned, the pair of you turning your heads to see the two Holmes boys outside resting against the restaurant's window.

"I try my best to.. they just still fascinate me." You spoke back, your eyes lingering on Mycroft a little longer before turning back to the table.

"So.. you and Mycroft. Going well?" John asked, his mouth raising in that side smile he often displayed when he was teasing somebody. "I can count on one hand the amount of times I've seen Mycroft Holmes smile in a non-threatening way, and over half of those were from since you walked into the flat earlier. I think I can only just about count on two hands times where he's pulled an expression that isn't stoic and emotionless."

"Yeah.. I didn't expect it to happen, if I'm completely honest with you. We've spent so many years just avoiding the subject, but after.. Eurus.. I don't know. It flicked something in Myc that made him regret not doing something about it sooner." John nodded, understanding where you were coming from. "You also don't give him enough credit. Everybody just assumes he's this 'iceman' persona, but it's all a front.. I've watched him laugh so hard that tears fall from his eyes, he's one of those people who throws their heads back and lets out an absolute belter of an infectious laugh. I've seen him get angry at the telly if I came over and some stupid reality show came on the telly.. He shouted at Kim Kardashian once on there for some reason or another. I've stayed up all night with him after he had gruelling days at work, him offering to do the same for me if I had a bad case and couldn't sleep. And then, very recently, I watched him cry." You continued on. "Mycroft Holmes is one of the most emotional, caring people I've ever known, he is just incredibly particular at who gets to see it. You're a doctor, John. You know how experiences in life can shape one's emotional stability, how it alters their mental health. Had you grown up without very many people being kind to you, you'd be scared to let somebody else in too." You finished.

"Sorry.. I didn't mean it to come out in a bad way.. I just meant.. It's nice. Seeing Mycroft acting like that, it's.. nice." He apologised. You waved it off. You knew John didn't mean any harm.

"Mycroft and I are old news anyway.. What about you and Sherlock? When did that surface?" You asked, beaming at the deep red John's face had become as he choked on a sip of his drink. "Oh come on, don't act like that. We've all been waiting for this one to happen since you moved in."

"I.. I don't know what you-" Glaring at him, he stopped himself. "Yeah fine, okay. When we got back to the flat that night we went into the front room and Sherlock lost it. I'd never seen him anything like it before, he just.. he just sobbed into a heap on the floor." He explained, the nervous tapping of his fingers against his glass trying to distract him from his eyes watering. "I didn't know what else to do, so I scooped him up and put him in his bed. He begged me to stay with him and I did. Then he apologised to me, for dragging me in all of that mess, for almost getting me killed and he just wouldn't stop apologising.. So I stole the stereotypical movie move and kissed him. Just kind of went from there. I think that night made us realise that beating around the bush all these years wasn't helping either of us, and the thought that we could have lost the other only a few hours beforehand woke us up." He coughed, his voice breaking slightly.

"God look at us.. All the people in the world and we've landed with the Holmes'" You grabbed John's hand from across the table and laughed. "Makes you feel quite special though, doesn't it? That, equally, there were all the people in the world and they chose us?" John grinned, giving your hand a squeeze.

"Could never tell them that though, their egos would go through the bloody roof."

***

"They're talking about us." Sherlock mused, breathing in the London air.

"It seems people do little else." Mycroft returned, casting his glance to you smiling with John at the table.

"She really does like you. I've spent years deducing everything about her to make sure she wasn't a secret Russian spy sent with the motive to kill you." The younger spoke playfully. "You could have eaten the cake."

"Hmm?"

"The cake. I know you wanted it, but you're going back to how you used to be. Now that you're together, you're nervous." Sherlock's voice was nonchalant, simple observations, which didn't ease his older brother at all. "It's pointless. She's entirely infatuated. I thought the childish doe eyes disappeared after being attracted to somebody for a few weeks, but she still looks at you like I look at a triple homicide."

"Resulting to similes now?"

"You need to stop that too. Dismissing it whenever somebody is trying to be... kind... to you. That's just annoying and not a good defence mechanism for insecurities, like a mask made of clingfilm, it's too obvious." Mycroft didn't speak in turn and Sherlock huffed. "She worries for you, she seeks for you to be comfortable in trialling situations, her eyes do that little light up thing every time you open your bloody mouth. Since standing here she's looked over 3 times and smiled to herself seeing you stand here with me without us arguing. I caught her 4 times on the way to the cab from the flat looking at your arse and your legs in that damned suit. You don't have to worry about anything with her- the way she looks at you is so lovesick it makes me queasy."

"And you know this how, Sherlock? Or is this another one of your cruel schemes to embarrass me?"

"Because, Mycroft, it's the same way you've looked at her for as long as I can remember you knowing her. Jesus, Mycroft, I haven't seen you smile this much since we were children.. before we did everything that led us to believe we were any better than anybody else, that we deserved more than sentiment. And it's the same way I.. the same way I look at him." Sherlock's eyes now locked onto John.

"Always did say there would be a happy announcement between the pair of you. Good to see I'm correct once again." Mycroft mused. He remained stoic, but his brother's words were whirring in his brain, leaving him in a state of shock at the curly haired man even displaying this form of kindness towards him.

"You told me once that caring isn't an advantage. But these last few days, no matter how short it has been, have already led me to believe that caring is perhaps the greatest advantage of them all. And I strongly believe you feel the same way, no matter what bull you make up to argue against it." The pair of them watched through the window once more, the image of you and John laughing at whatever joke had been shared between you. "We both have wasted many years fighting against this, and I don't want you to screw yours up. Y/N will remain by your side and feel the same way towards you, whether you wear a bin bag, lose your job, put on weight- she's in it for the long haul. She's spent so many years pining after you that she deserves the best from you and to be happy. And you, brother mine, have been through enough with not good people; you deserve the happiness too." Sherlock trailed the last sentence. It's incredibly rare for them to show it, but Sherlock and Mycroft would always have a particularly close bond, they've been through too much together not to- and so times like this were precious to them. Mycroft simply let out a small cough, reaching his arm over to rest on his younger brother's shoulder to give it a quick squeeze, before patting it twice and letting his arm rest back by his side.

"Sentiment appears to be dwelling well on you." Mycroft spoke, heading back to the door of the restaurant to head inside, holding it open for his brother.

"As it is on you, brother. As it is on you."

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mossygardenstone · 4 years ago

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Run Away With Us

Sal and Larry x reader hurt/comfort one shot

TW: Abusive parents, panic attack, angst, crappy writing

Relationships: Platonic with hints at a crush on Larry

Wanted to do a little fanfic for my feels after being inspired by this playlist! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5FGOuYP0x88 _____________________________________________________________ You tapped your pencil anxiously on your desk, watching the clock. You could never understand how you were so ready to leave, but not to go home. School was awful, but home.. Was even worse. You don't know what you even wanted anymore, and it tears you apart inside. But there was someone noticed the taps, two someones actually. Two classmates on either side of the room, ever since the teacher separated them. Both of them were your friends, and both were very much trouble, well mostly the tall one. The shorter blue haired boy was still trouble, but the kinda of trouble that you just know he didn't bring on himself. But they were your friends, and they you loved them, even with all the weird stories they told you about their "ghost hunting". Ghosts you believed, but cults? Demons? It all seemed too far fetched to truly believe, but you supported them. You listened to their stories all night over the phone, and wished more than anything, that you could go with them. To call your parents protective, would be a offensive at this point. They smothered you, painfully so, and your relationship with them, was rocky, on the good days. The thoughts of home and the tense there, swirled dangerously in your mind, as you watch the clock. It wasn't even lunch, but you were worried about going home already, and your pencil showed this, when it wasn't tapping, thanks to the dirty looks you got, it was between your teeth, taking the brunt of your emotions.

Sal was the first to notice this, as Larry was too busy doodling. Once the teacher turned to the board scratching the assignment loudly, Sal lobbed a paper ball across the room at the taller teen, nailing him in the head and making it nestle into his long and greasy hair. The teen looked up with a start, remembering the world outside of his little doodle page. He picked the paper ball from his head, and read it, knowing Sal's hand writing right away, and peaked at the other, before he read: "Are they alright today?" Larry looked from the paper, to Sal, who nodded toward you. You had already laid your head down to keep from snapping the pencil in your teeth, taking to staring at the desk in the darkness your arms created around your head. Larry looked at you, furrowing his brow, then looked to Sal again, who gave a soft head tilt as Larry turned back to his paper, flipping a page, and quietly ripping it out, scribbling, and yeeting it to Sal at the earliest possibility. By now, you could hear them, you know the sound of paper balls smashing the two boys in the face from a mile away, but you didn't lift your head, simply looked at through the little crack in your arm where you could see Sal's desk and hands moving to read a new note. But you were too anxious to really think of anything else, other than they were plotting a hunt or a smoke sesh after school, so you shut your eye's again.

Sal folded out the note, smoothing it with his large hands, wondering why Larry always had to crumble it to death like that, the pencil was smudged and the wrinkles were over the top, but he still could read it, he had learned to read Lar's awful hand writing ages ago, a skill you had yet to pick up. Once he straightened the paper out, and read the very simple, and unnecessarily small text of "ditch x3?" Sal lifted his head and looked at Lar, you, the clock, and then back to Lar, tapping his wrist like it had a watch and gave a shrug, to ask him “when”. Larry smirked and leaned back into his chair some, looking up to the teacher, she had long fell asleep at her desk after writing the pages to read on the board, she pretended she was simply reading her own book, but the faint snore wasn't missed. The other kids had either gone to sleep too, or was fucking off more than them. Lar gave a glance back to Sal and his smirk turned into a shit eating grin, as he mouthed "Now." to the other teen, and nodded toward the window next to Sal. Sal's eyes widened behind his mask, they usually would ditch between classes, not DURING them. But he worried for you, he knew you wouldn't tell them about your home anymore, last time, Larry and you argued. It was like you didn't know what they did to you was abuse, or if you did, you didn't want to hear it. So you started to clam up about it, despite Larry prying till you both fought again. You two were often compared to a married couple, you bickered over things, but everyone figured it was cause you both we're just as stubborn as the other. Sal came back from his thoughts, glancing from Larry to the window. Larry still smiling, leaning forward again, motioning his hand to open the window, trying to encourage the bad deeds.

Sal was a bit panicked at the idea, but caved, turning to the window next to him, and leaned over his desk to very softly push on it, begging it to be silent. It slid up with a little pop of air coming through, which caught the attention of a few people, including you, but thankfully, not the teacher, who just snored louder. Sal put a finger to his mask as the class looked at him. Some rolled their eyes, others snickered softly, but they all went back to their lives, but not you, you popped your head up and looked at him, with questioning eyes, before turning to Larry and raising a brow. Larry was practically out of his chair already, his stuff gathered to his side as Sal very anxiously slipped the window up enough to fit a person. You turned you attention to the window again, seeing Sal's things kicked toward the window as well, and gave a chuckle, along with a couple other students that were gawking, but you had to stop yourself from making a noise as a paper ball smacked the back of your head. You rolled your eyes before grabbing it and laying it out flat, squinting at the shitty hand writing on the mangled paper. "come with?" read the small text with a little ghost drawn other it.

Your eyes searched it frantically, looking for the joke, but when you whipped your head up to look to Larry, he was standing above you, bag over his shoulder, waiting for your answer right next to you. You wanted to speak but you didn't even know what to say if you were going to. Larry simply gave a breathy chuckle and mouthed "scared?" at you. Your eyes narrowed at him, a challenge? Fuck it then. You stuffed your stuff in your bag as fast as you could while being quiet, and slung it over your shoulder and joined Sal next to the window, with Larry not far behind you. But you could feel eyes on you, eyes filled with anger, and not "what are these chuckle fucks doing now?" like the others, you looked up to see Travis, the local homophobic homo. Once your eyes met, he glared daggers at you, and whipped his head around, looking toward the teacher. Larry's half lidded eyes widened, and his head went back a little in shock. Sal had gathered his bag and swung a leg out the window, and before he could fully hop out, he heard the boys voice ring out loudly. "They're skipping class again!" he screamed, his voice cracking, causing students to snicker, as the teacher woke with a start.

"Aw, shit, fucking Travis." Larry grumbled out, and turned to the window, where Sal had already hopped out and waited, but you were stuck stunned as the teacher rose from their desk and looked at you both. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING, GET IN YOUR SEATS!" Larry snagged your arm, giving a soft shake and leaned down to you. "Come on, we gotta go now, or not at all." He said in your ear, before ducking his lanky limbs out the window and rolling out next to Sal with a laugh. Both looked up at you, the teacher closing in on you. "Back in your seat!" She screamed as she moved closer, reaching for you. Sal took a couple steps back, trying to put distance between the window, and get a head start, but Larry didn't budge, he watched you, with half lidded eyes. You glanced from the teacher to the window again, before sucking in air, and just straight up jumped out, like you were about to take a nice slide down a slip n slide, but instead of a nice slide, you just belly flopped out with a pathetic little slide, earing a laugh from Larry who helped scoop you up, and the three of you started to run from the grounds, hearing the teachers screams fade till all that was left was the sounds of your shoes padding away quickly.

Once you reached the fence at the end of the school's property, the two teens, easily hopped it, tossing their things over to the first over, which was Sal, who caught them and tossed them to the ground. You could tell they did this, like a lot. Once Larry was over, he turned to look at you, as you were sizing the fence up. "Heh, come on, you can't hop a window, OR a fence?" you narrowed your eyes again, this man could really push your buttons. "Not all of us can just step over it, you long legged ass." You grumbled scaling it, biting back your nerves. Once at the top, you swung your legs over, and sat at the top railing for a moment, looking at the ground. You were hardly higher than Larry, but something about being higher than the tall bastard was sending you for a loop. "Come onnnn, I'll catch you!" Larry finally said with a smirk, holding out his arms. Oh that was it, he's gonna catch you alright, with his fucking face. You hefted yourself off the rail and straight at the other teen, expecting his little lanky ass to crumble like his paper balls under your weight from that height. But instead the wind was knocked from you for a second time, as you were easily caught by the boy. His arms pressed hard around you with the catch, and he stumbled a tiny bit, but you were still safe, feet but a foot or two off the ground, dangling in his arms, like a rag doll as you tried to figure out what even happened.

You looked up, the boy's nose painfully close to your face, that was now heating up at the closeness. "I told you I would catch you." He said with a chuckle, not helping your embarrassment. You gave a weak wiggle in the boys arms, trying to signal to just drop you already from the bear hug. "Jesus...Fuck. How did you even catch me, noodle arms?" Larry was about to release you, before that comment, but instead his grin widened and he squeezed you tightly to his chest, showing off just how much more strength he had. You let out a breathy squeak, caught off guard by the pressure, before you heard a loud pop, and your eyes widened a little. He had popped your back in the most amazing way, and you both looked at each other, questioning if that just happened, before all three of you bust into laughter, Larry finally putting you down. "If the married couple is ready, we're not too far from school, and uhhh." Sal said, pointing up to the security guards, huffing as they ran to the fence, starting to yell for them to stop. "Oh shit, let's go." Larry said, grabbing his bag, and then yours, hefting both over his shoulders and taking off first. You and Sal quickly joined them, the sound of feet and backpacks shuffling away as you all left behind the guards.

"When you gonna carry my bag, dude?" Sal huffed and puffed behind his mask, adjusting the bag filled with most of their ghost hunting things, he turned to look at the tall teen, hefting the two bags. "When you belly flop out a window then get your spine cracked in a bear hug, I guess." He snickered and looked back to you, who tried your best to keep up, but again, they seem to do this, a lot, and had you beat in the running department... and the jumping.. actually let's stop thinking about that. Sal snickered and as the three of you ran till your were far enough to not worry anymore, so you all slowed down to a nice walk, which you welcomed. As you three walked Sal pulled out his phone and started to send a text, you trotted to walk beside him and smiled. "Texting Todd?" You questioned, which gained a smile from the boy that you could see in his eyes, even behind the mask. "Yeah, he's probably not going to ditch, but I like to let him know at least." Larry sighed, his usual slouch ruined by the two bags, forcing him to actually stand straight. "He never ditches, but it's cool, we just do small snooping without him." Sal gave a nod and stuffed the phone back in his pocket. "Yeah, he's got grades to keep up, so he doesn't like ditching."

Larry laughed, shifting the backpacks on his back, with a shake of his head. "Yeah, I'm glad I don't have to worry about that." You rolled your eyes, giving a tug to your bag to take it from him. "Ever think, maybe you should?" You teased, looking him up and down. He simply rolled his eyes and let the bag drop into your hands with the tug and shruged. "I make Cs, that's good enough for mom, it's good enough for me." Sal chuckled and looked over his shoulder at him "What about the F in chem Lisa was just yelling at you about this morning?" Larry frowned and groaned, "I forgot about that honestly." he said, his smirk coming back, earning a laugh from you both. A silence washed over you three as you walked, once the teasing and questions were aside, but you enjoyed the nice silence as they lead you into the woods. "Sooo," you finally interrupted the silence, wiping sweat from your brow. "Where are we even going?" You looked from one teen to the other, before Sal spoke. "There's this weird little house out here." Larry nodded and raised his hands, wiggling his fingers in a "spooky" fashion. "Yeah it's fucking creepy as hell. No one remembers it ever being there, no address for it or anything." he dropped his arms, and rolled his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. "And it's completely empty." Sal added, pulling his phone back out as it vibrated. "Other than some like, really, really old, dusty furniture." Larry continued, watching the other tapping away on the flip phone, before pocketing it again.

"Todd said the whole school is freaking out about us." Sal looked at the two of you, a smile behind his mask. Larry threw back his head with a laugh, "Oh man, were so boned." Sal hummed in agreement, but you stopped in your tracks. You couldn't take another step, as panic took over you. Gripping the straps of your bag, you looked at the ground, completely zoned, thinking about what would happen when you went home. You'd never be allowed to do basically anything, ever again. You'd be surprised if they didn't padlock you out of your room...again. Larry and Sally came to a stop as well, looking at you. "Y/N?" Sal asked, worry in his tone, but you didn't respond, your brain was going a mile a minute and didn't even hear him. Larry started snapping his fingers to bring you back, "Y/N? Come on dude, I can't have you both starting this zoning out thing." You looked at Larry with a start. "Hu-huh? Oh.. sorry I just uh..." You trailed off, eyes falling back to the ground, the thoughts trying to close back in. You wondered if you'd have a room left when you came back, would it be all thrown outside? All your things, your sketch books, your clothes, your bed, your cat? You shook your head and shut your eyes tight, wincing at the thought.

Sal put an oversized hand on your shoulder, while Larry slipped his fingers around yours and held your hand so tenderly, you could feel it through your freak out. You looked at them both, trying to pretend you didn't have tears in your eyes, knowing it was a lie. Sal finally spoke again, rubbing the hand on your shoulder for a moment. "You're worried about your folks, huh?" his voice was comforting, like the one you'd hear from someone that loved you dearly, it was almost strange for you to hear that from someone, did you really never get to hear that tone from anymore else? "Yeah, don't worry about it tho-" Larry squeezed your hand, you could see he was upset, you knew the look he had when he was upset, his brows would knit together, and he couldn't stop from frowning, almost looking like a pouting child. But you saw restraint in his eyes, like he was, for once, biting his tongue. "Y/N just-" He started but sighed and looked away, his hand never leaving yours though. You felt bad, you knew what he wanted to say, and you didn't know if you could fight this time.

You came from this train of thoughts as well, when Sal slid his hand down your arm, to catch your free hand in his, like Larry. The both of them, on either side of you, holding you hands gently, their love pouring through their palms. It reminded you of those cute pictures you've seen, where parents hold the hands of their kids as they walk. It was then, that you were absolutely certain, no one had shown you love like this. Love that you didn't question, that you didn't fear. Love that you can actually feel. It felt really nice, you couldn't help it anymore, your eyes dropped to the ground, as tears ran down your cheeks, a small sob escaping your lips. Sal's hand seemed to hold yours even more gently, where Larry's tightened, you could truly feel their emotions, and how they handled yours differently. It was beautiful, and grounding, but still the tears fell.

Larry was steaming mad, but he wouldn't let you know, he hated your parents, he was so pissed about how they treated you. If they weren't abusing you emotionally and mentally, they were neglecting you to go do whatever they wanted and left you alone. And when they weren't doing either of those, they had the nerve to gaslight you, till you wouldn't listen to your friends, even though they loved you. He wanted to speak, say what he wanted to for weeks now, but he knew there would be venom in his voice that he couldn't stop, so it was Sal that broke the silence. "Y/N... Me and Lar have been talking." He glanced to the taller teen, before looking back to you, as you stared a hole into the grass. "And we've been talking to our parents..." He continued, but this time Larry spoke up, more aggressively than he meant to, "Yeah and-" he lowered his tone when he noticed you flinch, sadness creeped into his heart when he saw that, and he vowed, he'd never make you do that again. But he continued his sentence, with the softest and most loving tone his anger allowed. "An-And we want you to move in with us." He finally got it out, but why did he feel his cheeks heating up? Why was he suddenly so nervous? It was his idea, he brought it up to Sal weeks ago, and after talking, and getting the evidence he needed to show both their parents, they agreed without a hesitation. Their parents had already started to make their relationship more serious, talking about marriage, but even then, they couldn't stand what they heard about your parents. Sal's dad and Larry's mom had reactions, similar to their sons. Soft pitty, and bitter anger. Lisa even talked about fighting their parents, but they decided that instead, taking them in was the best option.

You looked up quickly when he told you, looking between the two of them. They we're joking right? They had to be. But it wasn't a bad idea, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't think about it. Late at night, when your parents fought, you put your headphones on, to drown them out, thinking about what it'd be like to live in the apartments with Sal, Larry, and Todd. You never really said it, but you wanted to move into them when you were able to, and well, you just kind of forgot, you would be able to do that soon. You were only months from your 18th birthday, Larry was even closer, where Sal had already hit his. It made sense for them to even think about this, and you you realized, you could just, never go back. But you couldn't stop staring at them, you just knew it was a lie. Why would they want to live with you? Who even were you living with? They lived in two different apartments.

Larry finally broke the silence again, "Well? Aren't you even going to answer?" He sounded hurt, was it from your pause? Was it because you seemed like you didn't want to? But you finally spoke, "Why?" was all you managed out of the many questions in your head. They both stared at you blinking, they didn't really expect that question you guessed, but you felt Larry's hand grip tighter, and he tugged it, just enough to fully obtain your attention. "What the hell do you mean 'why'? Your parents suck, Y/N. You're fucking scared to even go home." He spoke bluntly but with a calm tone, worried of freaking you out again, and knew this topic never had gone well before. But you softly sighed, you gave both boys a soft squeeze to their hands, catching them both off guard, from the limp fish they felt they were holding earlier. Now, you held their hands back, even stroking a finger over each boys hand, but never looking up. "I know..." your words were flat, and you barely realized you said them. They were true, weren't they? You knew they were, you didn't want them to be, but they were. You didn't want to go home, ever fucking again. You didn't want to hear them yell at you, to belittle you, to use you for a therapist or maid. You wanted to be free.

The boys looked at you for a long time, both caught off guard by the response, but before they could even collect a sentence, you spoke again. "Which of you would I live with?" You finally looked up, Sal smiled behind his mask, his eyes showing it plainly again, but Larry thought his heart was melting still from the way you held his hand back. He never understood how someone who went through something so hard, had such a soft grip. But he had to shake his thoughts from his head, a smile creeping on his face. "Me, of course." He chirped happily, earning a brow raise from you. Sal rolled his eyes, "Neil got a house, it's right down the road from the apartments, and Todd's going to live with him of course, and he invited me to come along." Larry pipped up to finish for his bro, "And I'm hanging back for a bit, I'm not gonna move out just yet, I still haven't figured out if I'm going to college, like these nerds have." he said smirking at Sally, earning an eyeroll. You looked from Sal to Larry for a minute, before looking back to Sal again. "So how shit of a roomie is he?" you question, making Sal chuckle loudly, and earning a scowl from Larry. "The worst." Sally teased, raising a hand to his face and waving it in front of his nose. "His room smells like pot and paint all the time, and he loses everything he touches." Larry narrowed his eyes at the other, "And your mask stinks." He retorted with a smirk. Sal raised a finger and waved it at him, "It's a prosthetic thank you, very much." Larry rolled his eyes and mumbled "A stinky one."

You all laughed and your smile could warm these entire cold, dark woods. You felt so safe and happy with them, and you never even noticed. "Alright." You said with a shrug, dragging both their hands up with it. Larry looked almost shocked, like he never thought you'd agree, but Sal just smiled at you both. "Wait, really?" Larry questioned, still stunned. But you simply looked at him, and gave him the biggest smile you've ever had in your life, tracing a finger over the ring on the boy's finger. "Yeah Larry, I'd love to live with you guys. I really would." It was their turn to join in on the tears, and they finally let go of your hand, before closing in around you, the two of them wrapping their arms around you and each other. You beamed and let out an embarrassed giggle as you hugged their arms to your chest, enjoying the group hug, more than you ever thought you would. You all held each other for a moment, enjoying the comfort of the group hug, you all had a place, and it was together.

But all things come to an end, including the cuddle puddle. Which was rudely interrupted by the loud blaring of your ringer, Sanity Falls, poorly recorded off Larry's stereo on your flip phone. You pulled the phone out, as the boys finally released you, but they didn't move far from your side, peaking at the caller ID on the front. It was your mother. Your stomach bounced from your feet to your throat, and back again, eyes scanning the phone, your hands starting to shake. Sal's eye's grew sad, seeing you so upset. Larry was trying to control his anger, his want to just- Before he could finish his thought, you opened the flip phone up, accepting the call, stunning both boys, not only did they think you'd ignore it, but you always skittered off to answer it when you did. But instead, you just flipped it open, your fingers trembling against it. Your mother's voice blared through the phone, as if it was on speaker, the loud bitch always did have some lungs on her. "Y/N? Where the fuck are you? Why did you leave school? You are in so-" you turned the phone, taking each side of the flip phone in your hands, and snapping it in half, the voice spotting short as you broke it. Larry was stunned, and upset, that's just what he wanted to do. You looked at the halves of the phone, and threw them to the dirt, stomping them in a little, feeling a wave of euphoria wash over you. You looked back up to the boys, almost looking for approval. But before your face could even turn to Larry's, he had scooped you up in another bear hug. "That was fucking metal, Y/N!" He spun you, nearly side swiping Sal with you dangling legs, but he jumped back and pumped a fist in the air. "Hell yeah it was!" He cheered, as the lanky boy finally finished spinning you, put your feet on the ground. You head was spinning, but you couldn't tell if it was the twirl or joy anymore, laughter spilling past your lips, even though tears still formed in your eyes. But for once, the tears weren't painful. But you looked up to Larry, as he put his hands on both sides for you shoulders, looking in your eyes. "I'm proud of you, Y/N." your lip quivered, but you jumped a little when you felt Sal hand on your back. "I am too." his voice was calm and gentle, just like the hug Larry pulled you into, as Sal rested his mask against your shoulder, wrapping his arms around you from behind. You laid your face against Larry's chest, the two of them felt warm and comforting against you, and you smiled as you sobbed softly. "Thank you." You finally choked out. You were finally home.

#Sally Face #Sally Face Fanfic #Larry Johnson #Sally Face x Reader #Larry Johnson x Reader #x Reader #hurt/comfort #tws in post

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merakicharm · 4 years ago

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SERENDIPITY

(part - 4)

"Do you think Kageyama will come for practice?" Kindaichi asked, looking at his boyfriend, before he pulled a shirt over his head.

Kunimi shrugged.

"Exchange students have to attend the same clubs they participated in at their schools, so he has to come, right?" Kindaichi persisted.

"I don't know" Kunimi hissed, annoyed. He really didn't want to discuss this. Kageyama was....a touchy topic and he really wished that anyone from Karasuno had been the exchange student, but Kageyama. Heck, even the Shrimp would have been better than this.

The door to the boys locker room opened. The Seijoh Coach strode in, the exchange students behind him.

"Ok boys, this will be your locker room, and you will use the free ones. Feel free to ask me or any other students, in case you have any confusions"

Saying this, he exited the room, leaving the boys to get changed.

Kunimi and Kindaichi watched the crowd curiously, just like the other Seijoh players in the room.

Tsukishima was the first person to separate himself from the crowd and move around, searching for his locker.

Which happened to be right next to the one that Kunimi used. Both gritted their teeth, very much annoyed.

"Kageyama senpai! Our lockers are here!"

Kindaichi turned to his left to see a boy, first year by the looks of it, opening the locker just one place away from his.

"Where's mine...?" the low husky voice, had Kindaichi gasping sharply.

Two places away, Tsukishima smirked.

"Here senpai!" the boy said again, his pale blonde curls flopping over his grey green eyes. He really had too long hair for a boy, it reached almost till the nape of his neck.

As Kindaichi watched, Kageyama emerged from around the corner, his expression somewhat annoyed. He looked to where his junior was pointing.

Even as Kunimi turned around to face the Karasuno ravenette, the boy seemed to have grasped the fact that his locker was right next to his former team mate's.

Heaving a sigh, and looking more irritated, Kageyama spoke.

"Hey Kagari, swap with me"

The boy paused, looking at his senpai. Kageyama's face bore a look of irritation, but when you looked closely, thought Tsukishima, you could clearly see the tinge of despair and fear.

"Well?" Kageyama asked, raising one of his eyebrows in question.

The boy nodded.

"Hai!"

"Thanks Kagari, I appreciate it" he said as he opened his duffel bag, refusing to look into the eyes of his crushes.

Which was good, since Kunimi and Kindaichi's faces were a mixture of emotions.

The real show began when Kageyama took off his shirt. At least for Tsukishima. He saw how Kindaichi's eyes seemed to almost thirstily take in Kageyama's abs and muscular arms. Kunimi had shut his eyes in an attempt, not to do the inevitable and it seemed to be working, albeit with a little too much effort. It was getting difficult for the SaltBottle to refrain from laughing aloud at the antics of the Seijoh players.

"Hey King! Let's go. We're gonna be late"

Kunimi's eyes snapped open in surprise. Kindaichi whipped around to face Tsukishima. They didn't get how he was calling Kageyama 'King' just like that.

Kageyama shrugged. That was what Tsukishima always called him, no matter what. He didn't mind. It'd be weird if he called him by his last name or first name.

Plus, that name reminded him of his faults, reminded him of how he had been, and what he had lost because of his stupidity. It reminded him of his royal cruelty. And right now, it reminded him, that he had no right to fall in love with the two boys standing but one place away from him. Or another pair of setter spiker boys.

Nope. He'd extinguished that hope with his 'King' like attitude and his 'natural talents'.

Sighing heavily at his depressing thoughts, he banged the locker door shut and waited for the first year setter beside him.

Kunimi grabbed Kindaichi by his arm, indicating clearly that he had had enough of this.

"Let's go", he said in his usual quiet voice.

Kindaichi let himself be dragged, not glancing again at the King. But just as Kunimi was about to open the door, someone else opened it from the other side.

A boy with midnight blue hair and black eyes stepped into the room. He was a little shorter than Kindaichi, and as he entered, he almost knocked over Kunimi, who was standing just by the door. Kindaichi supported him, preventing him from falling.

"Warui warui!" the boy spoke up immediately, apologetic. "I really should have been careful. Are you okay?" he looked at Kunimi, concerned.

Kunimi nodded, he'd just been surprised.

Kindaichi fussed over him.

Kageyama, watching all this drama, felt melancholic, knowing well that he would never be the receiver of those caring caresses.

The boy ran his eyes over the room, before he spotted Kageyama. A grin lit his face as he called out his friend's name.

Kageyama looked up.

"Anzai!" he was surprised.

It would entertaining to see the King's former soldiers getting jealous, thought Tsukishima, lips curving into an evil smirk.

"Go ahead with him," he indicated at the bluenette, "we'll follow along"

Kageyama nodded. He was glad of any excuse to escape from the room. He grabbed his friend's hand and pulled him out of the room, hurriedly.

He didn't notice how angry Kindaichi looked or how Kunimi was biting his lip in his attempt to keep his sanity.

Tsukishima was cackling on the inside.

The poor soldiers! They sure don't seem very happy that the King's social skills have improved!

"So? Aren't you supposed to be with swim club?" Kageyama asked his friend.

Whenever he thought of the word, he felt warm tingles go through him. After the incident at Kitagawa, he'd really thought that he was incapable of being friends with anyone.

Yamato was a friend, but then he was Kageyama's childhood friend who knew him inside out. He also had an open mind and inextinguishable optimism, putting up with Kageyama, even when he was at his rudest. He had stuck by him through the whole King of the Court thing, making him precious. But his real best friend was Hinata and Hinata alone.

Or so he had thought.

Until the ginger head and Suga had talked with him seriously about the need to make more friends, from outside of the volleyball club. He'd been reluctant, the old memories resurfacing, and hadn't put any effort into it. That was when Hinata, in a desperate attempt to make him sociable, spilled the beans about his past to his class. He'd been so in shock at the act, that he'd almost gone into one of his panic attacks.

Although his past revelations made his classmates understand him more, and he had made friends with people like Rikka, the class Prez, Mei, Subaru, among others, his best friend remained Hinata.

Up until Anzai arrived.

He introduced himself quickly, quietly, hood covering his head. He sat next to Kageyama and had actually slept through most of their classes. He never spoke to Kageyama, even when he needed something. He just tried to figure it out himself or gave up quickly.

As Kageyama told Hinata, 'it's like I'm sitting next to my own reflection'

Hinata had laughed a lot at that.

"Why don't you try making friends with him then? You'd be quite a pair."

For a while, Kageyama had been silent. Then he'd asked Hinata very seriously, whether he was fed up with their friendship. Although he had spoken calmly, his heart had been beating fast.

Hinata had shaken his head and explained how Kageyama was going to have to get over his fear of making friends or getting close to people. Kageyama had felt touched at how much his friend looked out for him and had decided to follow his advice, although he was doubtful.

The next day he'd tried to talk to Anzai and had been successful, although both of them, it turned out were just very socially awkward.

After four more months, Kageyama, Hinata, Anzai, Yamato, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Yachi, Mei, Kumiko, had become the best of friends.

In that time, Kageyama had discovered that Anzai had a dare devil streak to him, once you got to know him really well. Anzai had discovered that although Kageyama and he had almost the same likes and dislikes, there was a huge difference between their temperaments. Kageyama got crankier faster, to no one's surprise. Anzai was the slightly more cheerful of the two.

Now the pair were really close and had been delighted when they had got assigned to the same school. Kageyama hadn't still told him about his crushes though.

"Hmm? Oh first day so no practice apparently" his 'friend' answered now.

"Wanna try spiking my sets?" Kageyama challenged, smirking.

The swimmer answered with a smirk of his own.

"Sure!"

As the two boys rushed into the gym, Kageyama glanced at the boy, racing beside him, blue wavy locks fluttering in the wind. For a moment, as he squinted, there seemed to be a ginger haired boy running by him.

"Look straight ahead idiot!" Anzai panted out, "or you'll f-fall!"

He looked ahead but he saw faces flash past in the back of his mind.

Hinata, Anzai, Yamato, Yamaguchi, Yachi, Tsukishima, Noya, Tanaka senpai, the two captains, Suga, Asahi, Narita, Kinnoshita, the new first years, Mei, Kumiko.

"I win!!" Anzai pumped his fist in the air.

Uncharacteristically for him, Kageyama nodded. Anzai looked at him, surprised. A soft smile came on Kageyama's lips, as he thought,

I may have lost a race, but I think I'm winning the marathon.

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wrenhyperfixates · 5 years ago

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Full Disclosure

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Thor has always been supportive of his brother’s love life, but Loki won’t tell him that he’s dating you. When Thor won’t stop setting him up on dates, Loki has to move past his fears and confess. Warnings: just a fluff-bomb A/N: Thank you for requesting, my lovely nonny! This is longer than a typical imagine might be because I had so much fun with it (in fact it’s really more of a oneshot, oops). If you wanted something a little shorter, I already had a similar incorrect quote in my drafts that I’ll be posting for you later in the week :)

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Sometimes it was hard to have a brother so dense. There were plenty of times during their youth when Loki would try to discuss lessons or ladies with Thor, but never seemed to make any sort of breakthrough. It was only when Loki started dating you that he was glad for it, as it made hiding the blooming relationship much easier. That is, until Thor kept trying to set him up on dates.

“I believe I might shove my brother off a cliff, darling,” Loki whined one afternoon, dramatically flopping on your bed.

“Aww. What did he do now?” you inquired after giving him a small peck on the lips.

“He arranged another date for me, and I was left with the arduous task of cancelling. It is a wonder how he has not noticed how absolutely smitten I am with you, my love.”

He nuzzled into your neck as you cuddled him, breathing in your comforting scent. You bent your head down to place a kiss on the adorable little crinkle between his brows. He relaxed a bit, but you could tell he was still stressed.

“Well, we could always tell him about us,” you suggested as Loki’s frown reappeared. “I mean, almost everyone else on the team figured it out. So I don’t really see why we shouldn’t tell Thor.”

Loki pondered this for a moment. True, the other Avengers were aware of your relationship, save for Steve and Bucky, who were too oblivious to even realize their own feelings for each other. Still, it was different with Thor, his brother, his only family left. He knew how fond of you Thor was, but if he were to oppose to the two of you dating, he had no idea what he’d do.

“My brother can be overbearing. I am not certain that telling him is the best option at present.”

“Ok. If you’re sure that’s all, then we’ll wait.”

He whispered a thank you into your hair as you shifted positions so that now he was spooning you. The whole reason you’d decided to keep the fact you were dating a secret in the first place was to be able to enjoy quiet moments like this. Loki has been worried that his teammates would disapprove and try to split you up. Surprisingly, they were supportive, even if they did engage in some subtle teasing. Though, their knowledge of your relationship made what happened at dinner the next night all the more embarrassing.

You and Loki kept secretly holding hands under the table, earning you some smirks from your teammates who happened to notice. Feeling self-conscious, you broke apart but left your legs touching ever so slightly, just enough to feel the warmth radiating off each other. You must have laughed a little too loudly at something Loki said because, suddenly, Thor got what he thought to be a novel idea.

“You know,” he said, pointing at you and Loki, “I believe you two would make a really cute couple.” As if that weren’t bad enough, he continued in a stage whisper, “You should really ask them out, Loki.”

The God of Mischief turned bright red as you started fidgeting in your seat. Everyone else made eye contact with each other before giving in to a bout of laughter. Thor demanded to know what was so funny, but no one could get any words out. When Tony laughed so hard he fell out of his seat, Loki decided that he’d had enough.

“Brother,” he shouted over the din. “I-well, we have something to tell you.”

“What is it?” he shouted back, still not catching on.

“Maybe we should do this somewhere quieter,” you suggested after a small sigh.

The three of you made your way out of the noisy dining room, and Loki started wringing his hands as both his lover and brother looked at him expectantly. This was his moment to finally get the truth out there. Unfortunately, his hands seemed to have a mind of their own and lashed out with a dagger, striking Thor.

“Surprise attack!”

“Loki!” you bellowed, upset with your boyfriend.

“Do not worry, my friend. This is a normal occurrence,” Thor assured you as Loki grabbed your hand and whisked you away.

Once behind closed doors, you fixed him with a withering glare. He knew that he was being ridiculous, especially now that Thor has shown he would be fine with you two dating. But Loki realized something else was stopping from sharing his joy with his brother. If he told Thor, it would be like bridging his old life and his new one. Granted, you already knew of his past misdeeds, but what if there was something else he hasn’t told you? Something long forgotten in his memory that Thor lets slip? In the end, his reluctance all boiled down to a fear of losing you.

“I know, I know. That was not the best route to choose. I just didn’t think it was the right time to say anything,” he lied.

“Why can’t you just be honest with me, Loki?” you pleaded as tears formed in your eyes. “It’s obvious that you’re embarrassed of me or something. The least you could do is tell the truth about it.”

“Oh, my darling,” he cooed, wiping a plump drop that had fallen and made a glistening track halfway down your cheek. “Please understand that my inability to tell my brother of us has nothing to do with you. You are the most wonderful thing to ever happen to me.”

“Then what is it?”

“I fear that you may come to resent me if you hear any more of my past.”

“Loki,” you said, voice heavy with emotion. “Look at me. I know that you’ve done some... questionable things before. But I know you now, and that’s what I care about. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of, but you work harder than anyone I know to make up for it. It’s one of the many reasons that I love you.”

He looked at you with eyes full of gratitude before hugging you close. “I love you too, dearest. Never doubt that.”

The air relaxed around Loki and his beloved as a quiet contemplation settled in. He slowly rocked the two of you back and forth, trying to plan his next move. If there was one thing he didn’t like, it was not knowing what to do next. But he was sure that, with you beside him, he could figure it out.

“Ok,” you said after sucking in a long breath. “We’ll wait then. As long as you need.”

“No,” Loki interjected, coming to a conclusion as you spoke. “I want to tell him now. Well, maybe not right at this moment. But tomorrow for certain.”

After checking that he was sure of this decision, you agreed to have lunch with Thor where you would tell him the news. Loki’s nerves were at an all-time high by noon the next day. He helped you set the table to try to calm them, but nothing seemed to cull his worries. You came up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing kisses to the tense spots between his shoulder blades.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright. I promise,” you reassured him, hoping to relieve some of the pressure he was feeling.

He relaxed in your embrace for a second before you broke away upon hearing Thor’s heavy footsteps approaching. Loki tweaked the utensils once more, and you pressed a quick kiss to his knuckles in a final act of comfort. It also helped some that Thor seemed to be in an even more jovial mood than usual. Which, of course, was saying something as the god was relentlessly optimistic.

Sitting down, he greeted you both by name and told you everything smelled delicious. The God of Thunder bit his lip to hold back a smile, but you and Loki could see it tugging its way onto his face. The two of you shared a look, attempting to figure out what exactly was the cause of such joy for the older Odinson boy.

“Um, Thor?” you said. “Is there something you wanted to share with us?”

“No. Is there something you want to share with me?”

Another look passed between you and Loki. Suddenly, Loki realized that his brother must know the news you were about to share. It figures that after all this time, he worked it out moments before he was about to come clean.

“You have figured it out,” Loki sighed, “haven’t you?”

Thor nodded eagerly and came around the table to hug his brother and friend, overjoyed that they were dating. He loosened his grip around you upon hearing your gasping voice telling him he was hugging too tight, a terrible habit of his.

“But when did you figure it out?” you questioned, puzzling over the timeline of events.

“I have known for months, of course.” He tried to stick to this story, but the skeptical looks from both you and his brother made him abandon his position. “I saw you two being all cuddly just before I came in,” he conceded with slumped shoulders.

All three of you began to laugh, and Loki was surprised by how relieved he felt at not having to actually confess. The rest of the lunch went swimmingly, and the God of Mischief relaxed further, happy to have both his brother and beloved in such high spirits. Unfortunately, his own sunk when Thor offered to tell a story about him. It seemed like his worst fears were about to come true.

“One time when we were children,” Thor began with a wistful look in his eye, “Loki tried to use some of his magic and accidentally turned himself into a cat. He came to my room and pestered me until I brought him to mother. Remember that, brother?”

“Indeed, I do,” Loki said with a nostalgic laugh, feeling relieved that was all Thor shared. “It was one of the first spells I ever tried. I am afraid that I sorely botched it. I was coughing hair balls for weeks.”

“So that’s why you won’t let me get a kitten!” you added with a laugh of your own.

The brothers went back and forth telling embarrassing stories about the other. You refused to share any of your awkward childhood moments, and your companions vowed to get some out of you one day. All in all, Loki had a great time. He squeezed your hand in thanks under the table. With shining eyes he observed you and Thor laughing. He realized that, for the first time in his life, he had nothing to worry about. After all, he’d been wrong when he’d thought Thor was the only family he had left. Now you were his family, too. And nothing could possibly take away you or the love you shared.

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friggsdc · 4 years ago

Text

Title: little delinquent pt iv

part iii | part iv

Warnings: Female!reader (bat!sis), mostly plot with family fluff, AU, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 4600~

Synop: It had Bruce and Dick sharing a look for a moment before the latter spoke up, “It’s not like I’m against continuing to expand the family, but…” he eyed the child you held nervously, “please don’t start bringing home every child you find…” he tilted his head, “he’s bad enough.” Bruce settled a light glare at his first son (that definitely wasn’t what Bruce was thinking), though Dick was stilled by the way your eyes narrowed at him instead.

“His name is Terrence,” that was all you said, brushing past as they were suddenly on guard at the inherited Wayne-scowl on your face.

---

A/N: ee;;;; enjoy me not knowing what this plot is, idk tbh, but it’s fun to write. It’s more plot than fluff, which wasn’t what i meant to write sighs. I’ll probably write companion pieces to this that’s zero plot all fluff. The plot wasn’t meant to be so deep, but I mean, uhm… enjoy papa Bruce and mama Alfred~

---

[bigR] Dad’s upset.

[bigR] He’s talking less than usual, not even grunts.

[bigR] I think he’s ignoring me?

[you] crap

[bigR] Worse, there’s no news.

No news? True, you hadn’t seen the info feeds light up, the networks had been offline all day, but nothing from Tim’s side? If you didn’t hate Luthor before, well…

[you] this is giving me a headache ::dizzy_emoji::

[bigR] No kidding, I think he’s figuring a few things out.

[bigR] Patrol with B, everything’s unlocked, bb @ late.

[you] is typing…

“You sure it’s okay?”

The taller male gave quite the toothy grin, a large hand coming up to pull the awkwardly fitted shirt collar back to center, admiring your new outfit. “You can just bring it back later, besides, I think it’s cuter this way.” After a few hours and an incredibly long phone call between Jason, Tim and yourself, the three of you combined were able to get the suit to come off.

Tim said he still had a lot to go over, but that the laptop was actually incredibly useful. Much of what Tim had been talking (and geeking) about had been lost on Jason and you, too focused on Terry and wrangling the alien suit off.

Jason said he’d be jealous of the strange futuristic-like material if it weren’t for the second skin-like fit, happily poking fun at Nightwing’s taste in suits.

Most of the work was done on Tim’s side since he apparently already had the ability to take control of the suit. It was something you were rather… anxious about, but unlike the manor, Jason’s place had the advantage of no Bruce and no cameras.

So now you sat in the same pair of pants you’d come over in, the only pair of flip-flops he had. They were far too large for you, but your toes would have to hang on till home, and a large t-shirt that fit well enough.

“Muscle up, Buttercup” was written on the front, Superman’s flexed arm between the words.

“Your taste in clothes is…”

“Cheap. Like second-hand cheap.”

“But… why…”

“To spite Bruce? I pay more for job-related injuries than money I actually have, it’s been tempting me to go back to crime, honestly.”

“…you sure that’s not to spite Bruce as well?”

“I mean,” he shrugged, an impish grin on his face as he lightly ruffled the top of your hair, causing you to childishly swat his hand away, “isn’t that what everyone else does? It’s fun, you should try it sometime.”

“Uh-huh…” you were honestly too much of a—

“Daddy’s girl,” he snorted lightly, unimpressed.

Before slipping one of Jason’s unused backpacks on, you stuffed the batsuit in the bottom, and the jacket you arrived in on top. Turning just in time to see him picking up Terrence’s sleeping form with incredible gentleness, you cooed lightly.

“You know, you’re not bad at that,” he looked at you, frowning, ears flushing before his attention went back to the bundle in his arms.

“Not even…” instead of moving to take the child from him, you opted to stand still and just watch the interaction instead, as if a point were being made.

Big boy looked like he was terrified of breaking the child in his arms, like an heirloom British teacup, “You look cute like that, a giant teddy bear and a tiny uh... new bat?” Walking over, he turned his eyes to the side, not a single trace of anger towards the situation in his voice anymore, “don’t get used to it,” he muttered, unsure of himself. “But you could get used to it,” you smiled, taking the giant marshmallow from him, “he’ll be around from now on, you know. You’ll have uncle duties~” Your teasing only increased his rising timidness, “right…”

“Well,” he began, heading to the door once you had everything, “I’m already late for patrol, let’s get you home.”

Alfred had greeted you at the door and mentioned putting on some tea, and you gladly accepted, though not before you went up and changed. With the promise to be back downstairs in a few minutes, he took Terrence from you to ready him for bed. Adorable child was actually quite active, having tired himself out at Jason’s temporary housing.

Quickly, you’d headed to Tim’s room to empty the contents of your bag in his faraday cage, hoping that it was secure enough being in his room. Once you’d locked the safe’s door, you headed out of his room and down the hall to your own. Sorry Jay, but the shoes were uncomfortable, and the shirt kept trying to strangle you more than the shirt of a giant should. Pajamas sounded wonderful right now.

The now empty backpack was tossed to the side near where Duke had left the your clothes from earlier in the day, and a few immediate items for Terrence. You figured everything else was probably in the nursery now, hoping it was all waiting for you in the next few days. The awkward clothes you’d worn over the suit had been tossed on your day clothes, and then Jason’s shirt and shoes were dropped on top.

The shower was quick, and having changed into a fresh pair of pajamas, you suddenly felt sluggish, your shoulders now heavy with tightness. Come to think of it, your thighs also felt rather wobbly, like jelly… but the only strenuous activity you can remember doing in all honesty was… base jumping… was it the wings? It’s all you could honestly come up with. Maybe you weren’t used to such a thing yet, and as you rubbed your shoulders, you headed back downstairs to the sitting room. “Nn…”

“Sore?”

It was still too early for anyone scary to be home right now, so…

You nodded, collapsing on the small sitting couch, Alfred going to stand from his seat to fix you a cup of tea from the tray on the table. “I did a dumb thing today. I’m not certain if I regret it or not.” He handed you the tea plate and cup before returning to his original position on a rather regal looking chair, “I’ve already put the Little Master to bed for the evening. The Young Masters went to bed awhile ago, though I suspect, they are not, actually sleeping.” He gave an amused hum at the thought of Damian and Jon and what they were totally not doing.

He definitely hadn’t noticed when they’d snuck out earlier. Nope, not at all.

It was a long day filled with heightened emotions, anxiety, stress, confusion, and at the end of it, you were just so tired, and Alfred had always been your confidant next to Tim, and—

You tried to keep quiet as you spoke.

“I jumped out of a really tall building. Like… ninety feet up? I’m not certain, I was watching my life flash before my eyes.” He sighed and frowned into his own tea, “Master Bruce has already left for the night, Master Tim is accompanying him, as the boys are… supposed to be here for a night off. I really had hoped you’d grown up to be more intelligent and not as reckless as your brothers.” Or your father, Alfred mused, sipping at his tea, pinky out, the proper macaroni gentlebutler he was.

“I mean, I panicked, I was in a batsuit, I had a lot of intel on me, like, literally stole a laptop and backed up something called Project B (whatever that meant, though you had your suspicions having met Conner), there was a ton of guards outside going from door to door… I don’t have the same muscle mass to fight like my militant brothers, I was scared of what would happen if they caught me, like dad’s reputation?, I may have been overwhelmed by the—”

“—batsuit?” Ah, you looked up from your tea with wide eyes to see him staring, uncertain if the twinkle in his eye was worry or mischief. “Yeah, that. Uhm… Please don’t tell dad,” you sat up straight, gave him your biggest crocodile tears, and were about to clasp your hands together like a beggar before he waved your antics off. “I would not, not unless it endangers your life, Young Miss, you know that. Including young Master Terrence, of course.”

“This afternoon I must ponder over, What you did was, how shall I say, not okay,” he spoke, stern.

He stood to walk over, seating himself next to you while smiling gently, “though I must admit, I am quite curious as to the story behind all of this.” You gave your own small smile as you stared at your tea, “Yeah. I still don’t know all of it yet, myself, but… it’s actually really cool…” The two of you spoke in hushed tones.

Bruce may have been your father, but much like him, you were raised by Alfred, and seeing as you usually weren’t allowed out on the field like the others, your disposition was as Alfred’s was; support. It was something your brothers and father relished in when they had any extra time over the years. You loved to spoil them, and they were readily eager for it.

It was also thanks to Alfred that you’d learned you had a unique knack for espionage.

Your brothers were raised to protect themselves and others, getting to go out nightly on risky (and deadly) vigilantism escapades. More than that, they not only got to be of use to your father, but they were able to grow up around him, their lives dedicated to the same purpose.

To say you were jealous was an understatement, often worrying Dick and Jay at times.

To say you were your father’s daughter and just as like-minded as him was also an understatement. This was something Tim and Damian understood better than your two eldest siblings.

You were determined as heck.

You graduated from avoiding Alfred’s detection to stalking your father and brothers, skills honed even further as you learned how to use their toys and listen in on their coms system. It was your father’s own fault, leaving you alone all the time.

You would never be useless again.

You would never be left behind again.

“So, your brothers are helping you, then? I am glad of that, it means I need not worry as much,” even though Jason and Damian only knew half the truth, it was Tim who knew everything you did. Duke didn’t want to know and apparently Jon’s dad had warned him not to get involved with “bat business,” and Alfred… “If… If Terry’s parents…” how were you supposed to frame this part, exactly? You ere bothered by the truth of it, so... maybe making it sound worse than it was? If that was even possible... “if they were bad people, like really bad people,” as if suddenly remembering the walls had ears, you lowered your head and voice, barely audible for him to hear, “do you think dad would let me keep him?”

The both of you knew that wasn’t the issue, Bruce had no problem with the child staying, but…

There was something about the boy that seemed to be worrying you…

“If there is one thing I take great pleasure and joy in,” Alfred beamed like the proud father he was, “it’s that at least one of you children turned out more like myself than Master Bruce.” No, honestly, he was so glad you weren’t gloom and doom like your father and siblings, “I’m certain you could tame the wildest of beasts.”

His parentage held no ground here, the two of you understood the meaning behind the words, memories of when Damian met you for the first time after arriving at the manor surfacing, “I think you’ll do just fine with the child. I have all the confidence in the world.”

Maybe you were being overly paranoid about the whole situation.

The evening was finished in comfortable companionship between the two of you, and he’d shoo you away to bed long before it was time for the boys to come home.

After cleaning up and assuring himself that at least someone in the manor went to bed properly, he busied himself with the surveillance of the manor.

He made certain you wouldn’t be caught just because of his curiosities.

Through part of the night, you’d begun doing as much research into the relationship between Luthor and CADMUS as you had time for, the past few days having been spent going over only CADMUS information. That was until you got a ping on Luthor’s name written on several specific checks, and gathering as much information available. You looked for key phrases in the news cycle over the past day’s incident, as well as dating back several months. You’d even taken the chip out of your work phone and popped it into the laptop sitting on the bed in front of you, allowing network protocols to take over.

There was only so much the news would give you, so you checked in on security feeds from the area, keywords during phone calls used to see if anyone noticed, satellite intel snapshots, everything. Anything.

The time-sensitive channels still hadn’t opened, no information from other informants was anywhere in the Societies channel logs, not even the time-delayed backlogs.

Someone else was cleaning up.

Early morning, the best time to avoid anyone in the manor who had a night life, also just in time to get breakfast as Alfred made the first batch of the day. Though mostly for himself, he’d generally make extras as you’d often join. Heading down the foyer stairs, Terry’s barely conscious form bundled in your arms, you beelined to the kitchen, the smell your guide. “Ah, good morning Young Miss! I even made some for the Little Master, just in case,” Alfred smiled down at the boy in your arms, holding up a small bowl of minced and steamed veggies.

The kitchen was large for an older-modeled mansion, constantly rebuilt with minimal changes, but still cozy and incredibly sustainable. Between the door to the foyer and the opposite wall, where the door to the dining room was, there was a large table. Several shopping lists, foodstuffs, and cookware took up a good portion, but there as still enough room for a small few people to sit comfortably at once.

You smiled, sitting down in the chair the older male pulled out for you, then pushing you in, food for the child set on the table. You situated Terry in your arms, finding a nice spot to rest his bottom without worry of him slipping off, and reached over to spoon some of his meal to him.

Strangely, he didn’t resist much, yawning in between bites as you had to scoop up what tried to spill out of his mouth, “so, how old might you say he is? I’ve been thinking about it, perhaps about a year?” you nodded as you looked up, agreeing with Alfred as he sat down, food cooking behind him in the meantime. “I think… if not that, maybe a few months younger… he can stand, and seems okay with soft solids… I think you’re right, maybe a year?” his clothing size certainly seemed to think the same, Duke having gone to extreme lengths to get a perfectly fitted wardrobe for the boy. He even included a few different larger sizes for the coming year as well.

“Hm…” Alfred leaned on his crossed arms, rested on the table as he eyed the boy, “I suppose we could begin early development lessons with him, signing especially, but I think he can do more, words, possibly.” In response, Terry sneezed, food spraying all over the spoon and bowl in front of the two of you, his eyes still groggy as he slumped in your hold. “Oh dear,” Alfred hummed in amusement, standing to bring you a small terrycloth towel to clean up.

Terry gave a small grunt as he pushed at the cloth now cleaning his face.

“Gonna… Gonna have to get used to that…” the suddenness surprised you, you knew it was a normal human function, but you just hadn’t… expected it.

“I think there will be a great many things for you to get used to from now on, even I will have to relearn a few things. It’s been… a very long time since an infant was in this home.” He went back to finishing his and your meal, a nostalgic and wistful look masking his face. Bruce had no idea what to do with you when you were an infant handed over to him, and it amused Alfred to this day.

Thinking about it, you looked down at Terry, your chin coming to hover over his head, almost as if you were trying to nuzzle him, loud enough for only him to hear, “…mama. S… Say mama.” The child just tilted his head and cooed at you instead, reaching up to pull at your hair again ohdeargodpleasestop.

Releasing your hair from the child’s grasp and holding both of his hands in yours this time, you tried once more, “mama.”

“Mmba,” he blew a raspberry at you as he slurred his speech, becoming more fascinated with the bubbles he blew than your inquiries. “Mm… bah.” He let out a giggle, popped his lips at you and then smiled, trying, and failing thanks to your hold, to reach for your hair again. After several attempts, he settled for turning slightly, resting his head on your chest as he watched Alfred and all of the very shiny cookware.

You flushed, wanting to beam but also feeling incredibly self-conscious about the situation still, it was honestly a lot to get used to. Frowning in determination at the snuggly bug of a child, you tried a different tactic this time, “ma.” He was still more interested in the food being cooked, however, and you heaved a sigh into his head of hair. “Mma,” well, it was a start, and you repeated your previous chant of mama to him, your own eyes wide with what felt like pride.

Was this how Alfred felt?

“Mmba.” Well, as you said, it was a start. With a sigh, you went back to shoving food in his mouth, though quickly you had to wrangle the spoon from his mouth each time. “Stop… biting it, Terry…” you wondered how Conner had gotten so smart in such a short amount of time, wondering if Terry had still been too young when you took him from the bio labs at CADMUS.

“Ah, good morning Sir,” Alfred greeted, and your head shot up to see your father standing in the doorway, bags under his eyes and a yawn hidden behind the back of his hand. “Good morning, Alfred,” he stared at the older man with a frown, obviously trying not to say something. Instead, he looked at you and the child for a long moment, giving both of you a morning greeting. And even though Terry couldn’t properly respond, he did give Bruce the same challenging look as the last time.

He was looking for something out of the ordinary, however, the only thing in the room that was new was Terry, nothing else seemed to be amiss. But you could tell, looking up at him from the corner of your eyes, head still downturned, he was searching.

“Morning dad…” you tried to be light as you smiled at him, nothing is wrong.

“Daah,” Terry tried imitating, but it was lost in the rest of his babbling as he grabbed the food from the spoon. He was making another mess as he shoved it in his mouth, fingers fiddling around tongue and mushy carrots. Thankfully you still had the terrycloth to wipe at his chubby cheeks.

Bruce’s footsteps were as silent as his entrance, stopping next to you and squatting down, large hand, warm and gentle, landing on Terry’s head as he ruffled his hair, “I’d like to talk to you downstairs soon, okay?” He studied Terry for a moment, eyes as brilliant as his own, though it seemed like Bruce almost enjoyed the small head of hair in his palm. You couldn’t tell beyond the awkward chill in the air, but the two of them were giving each other knowing looks, both challenging, though Bruce couldn’t understand why Terry looked at him that way.

He made to stand up, pulling his hand away before Terry could do any damage, cheeks puffing out in a pout. “There’s something I’d like you to look into,” he spoke as he headed back towards the door, a morning coffee handed to him by Alfred, “oh, and you’re not allowed to leave the grounds for the time being. The tracker seems to be faulty.”

Considering you broke them often over the years, well, yeah, of course it was faulty.

Again.

The smile he gave you before he left was smug and you weren’t completely certain as to why, and it was making you really really nervous, “the League computers picked up something quite interesting yesterday.”

“Uh…” Ah yeah. Well heck.

Yeah, metropolis was both a huge risk AND your last outing, you were glad you took the chance though, even if your stunt escalated the situation. You were now officially on house arrest by the most observant secret-wannabe cop in the world.

Then again, there was no telling exactly what he knew.

He might be bluffing.

“Maaam… ah…” Huh? Did he just… Quickly as if borrowed from the speed force, your thoughts of Bruce and the problems at hand seemed to flee as you beamed at Terry. “Mama?”

“Mamhh.”

[bigR] Was able to give the drive a quick look.

[bigR] I don’t understand villains. I just don’t.

The hell did that mean?

[steph] c u soon <33

Ah, crap.

The table before Bruce had only a few pieces of paper and only two photos. You’d come home nearly a week ago with a new addition to the family, from where he still wasn’t certain. He’d checked and there’d been no missing infant reports that matched up with him, both in looks and location. Tim seemed to be in on it, hiding secrets along with you, and holding back when Bruce would inquire about anything even remotely familiar to the situation. Tim had also been keeping busy with something the past few days, and ever since you’d come home from shopping, he seemed unable to stay still, constantly fidgeting.

Then there was yesterday, when Duke took you out shopping with the boys while Batman had been at the Womb at the League’s watchtower, digging up as much as he could. Which, unfortunately, was just the few scraps of confusing ledes in front of him. The annoying part is how well you avoided the cameras, there were only a few times where he had been able to make you out, the rest he had to guess based on your profile that day.

The subsequent events had started stacking up in a rather annoying fashion. Your tracker’d been broken since you gave everyone a scare a week ago, returning with a child in your arms and something akin to paranoia. Even Tim had been clueless (until he wasn’t), and now even his attitude was giving Bruce pause. It felt more unnerving than bad, something making Bruce’s own stomach knot when he kept coming up with dead ends.

The day you’d gone shopping, the Womb had picked up something the news hadn’t, as the news was calling it nothing more than an accident, and it was that that gave Bruce even more pause. The worst part is that he couldn’t just take a deep dive into the LexCorp building’s system, knowing that much was out of their (or his) hands.

If Cyborg found out that Batman was secretly looking into a non-incident on the League system for family-related business, then he’d never hear the end of it from Superman and the others. He’d have to go out of his way to get into the building, and right now wasn’t the best time to do so, security was increased ten-fold. He’d have to wait it out.

LexCorp wasn’t even reporting it as an incident themselves, but the fact that they were being very stringent about the details, the increase in surveillance, Bruce felt it in his gut; an obvious coverup. The problem was why, there was no way what had happened had been anything short of problematic for Lex, and yet they weren’t filing any kind of paperwork.

They did their best to act as if they didn’t care, but Batman saw all the extra measures, and he also saw the information black hole happening.

LexCorp, no doubt, was scrubbing.

What he had been able to do, however, was gather two snapshots of a black blur that sped out of the building before disappearing into the thick of the city below.

About the same area where Damian’s own tracker took a detour.

“I preferred it when you used to use electrical tape to tape a transceiver blocker to your arm to hide the trackers,” Bruce hadn’t looked up as you approached (and you were dang silent too, even Terry was being chill), “It was much less of a headache.”

“Yeah, but that was when I was a kid. Nothing I do now can hide me from you anymore, the technology is different from back then.”

“Except breaking it.”

“Except that.”

He snorted as you stopped at the table, situating Terry on your hip, and looked down at the photograph that Bruce pushed over to you. It took every bit of training not to give anything away as you picked the photo up and gave it a once-over.

“This is…?” you turned your head to see him with that smug smile from before, tapping the image in your hand with his finger, “this is what I want you to look into.” You would have bristled if you hadn’t known your father better, this was some kind of trap.

“The same day you headed off to Metropolis, intriguingly enough, the LexCorp building had a break-in,” he paused to gather more words, rolling them around on his tongue before swallowing them, I’m worried, and you’re the reason.

“A break-in? I hadn’t heard—”

“No, you wouldn’t have. LexCorp seems to be keeping it from the public knowledge.”

“Then the League computers?”

“Was able to take a few photos from another satellite, these two were the best ones I could find. One of whatever broke in as it took off flying, and another of the same building a few minutes after. No police, no fire crews, nothing.” He was watching your reactions like a hawk, unfortunately you’d played this game so often growing up (learning to lie and stay out of trouble was a skill your brothers and you freaking perfected, even if they got into trouble on purpose), that it was really very easy to just—

“Uhm, but… dad, how? You grounded me, remember? That makes gathering any kind of intel like, y’know, hard.”

The smug smile was back as he pointed at the rather established medical area, the two of you heading over together, “you’re the information broker, I’m sure you can find something useful. It’s not the first time you’ve had to gather information from behind bars, after all,” you really hated how he still felt compelled to remind you of that.

It was once, in a country where no one knew you and where records were shoddy at best.

And on purpose, dangit.

You still weren’t certain how he even found out, besides, he and your brothers had done worse by comparison.

As he began removing the old tracker, you ignored the pain, the lack of anesthetic nothing new to you, too used to it at this point. Not that it was terribly painful. He was precise in skill, second to Alfred, you were too preoccupied with keeping the child still in your lap to notice what he’d been doing prior to your arrival.

All jokes aside, he’d finally gotten ahold of something that could yield actual results.

He looked to the boy again, staring at his familiar features, at his hair, like midnight, “striking how much he looks like us.” You frowned at him.

It was a statement.

The joke wasn’t lost on him.

Or on you.

#tim drake x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #stephanie brown x reader #duke thomas x reader #bat!sis

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wonglix · 5 years ago

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➺ 𝟒𝟖 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬

⤷ y/n x bestfriend!jisung; f2l!au

⤷ jisung knew that you two couldn’t actually run away. that doesn’t mean that he won’t take you up on your offer when you call him crying, begging to leave with you. even if it’s just for a few hours, he’ll take any chance he gets to run from the energy-draining lifes you two are living

⤷ angst, fluff

⤷ 2.9k words

03:21 AM - 0 hours on the run

jisung's woken up by the excessive ringing of his phone, grumbling quietly to himself while feeling around for his phone on his bedside table. he can't read whos calling him, being blinded by the bright screen. picking up he groaned out an annoyed, "what?" instead of your cheerful voice asking him to go out for some late-night snacks, he is met with excessive sobbing from the other end. sitting up, he rubs his eyes and clears his throat.

"y/n? why are you crying?" he can barely understand a word you're saying, worry building up inside him. "y/n, i know it's hard, but please calm down. i can't understand you when you're crying this much, bun. take a deep breath, yeah?" he can hear your ragged breathing and his heart hurts a bit. no matter how many times he sees or hears you crying, it pulls on his heartstrings every single time and makes him want to wrap you up in his arms and press little kisses to your face until you can't help but let out those precious giggles of yours he loves oh so much.

it took you a few minutes to calm down, jisung silently listening to your breathing and how it gradually started to become regular. "bun, tell me what's wrong now please..." he said gently, his voice helping you calm down a bit more. you took another deep breath, "it's all getting too much, sungie. i feel like i can't breathe anymore, i-....i want to leave. i don't... don't wanna be here anymore jisung." you stammered with a shaky voice. jisung's face turned into a frown when he heard how much you were struggling, his heart breaking a bit. all he wanted to do was to protect you and make sure you're happy, and hearing you so broken and small was too much for him.

"what do you want to do, y/n?" he asked softly, a sigh leaving his lips when you kept quiet for a while. "sungie...i have a favour to ask you", you mumbled. jisung nodded subconsciously, "anything, y/n. you know i'm here for you, always." hearing him talk like that was reassuring and you softly asked, "will you run away with me? not, like actually, just for a few days. i...i need space, sungie. but i don't wanna go alone, so....will you come with me? a few days, just me and you?" jisung swears he felt his heart jump. it was ridiculous, but hearing you say 'just you and me' like that was enough to make his heart rate pick up. almost instantly, he stammered, "y-yes. yes, of course, y/n. get ready, i'll pick you up soon, alright? let's run away."

04:30 AM - 1 hour on the run

you've been out and about for a little bit over an hour now. jisung has picked you up earlier; a small backpack was thrown over his shoulder and a concerned look on his face. he didn't even greet you, instantly pulling you into his arms and keeping you there for a while. you were incredibly thankful for him. he's always been the one you go to with your struggles, ever patient and ready to hold you close to him for hours on end. you know that your relationship to jisung was more than just best friends supporting each other. the line between friendship and love having been blurred a long time ago though neither of you has ever mentioned it.

you walked in silence, no real destination in mind. your hands were hands brushing against each other from time to time, jisung's fingers itching to take your hand in his. "how about we stop by a convenience store? stack up on some snacks, maybe eat something?" jisung recommended, turning to look at you. you nodded and kept walking, jisung sensing that you were still a bit off. heaving out a sigh, he reaches out, taking your hand in his. you look at your joined hands for a second, intertwining your fingers with his. jisung glanced over at you in surprise, a small smile on his lips. he was so in love with you that even holding your hand like this was making his heart race and heat travel to his face.

a little while later you were sitting inside a convenience store, each of you has picked out a few snacks you planned to take with you on your journey. jisung insisted on buying both of you some ramen, since you two needed - according to him, at least - new energy to take on the day. you knew that it was mostly jisung wanting to make sure that you were eating something, the thought making you smile while chewing on your noodles. jisung was done with his noodles earlier than you were, getting up to throw away the container. instead of coming back though he went into a different aisle, picking out a few things and walking over to the cashier. when he came back, he sat down across from you again, throwing a few of the things he just bought on the table. you looked at him with raised eyebrows, confusion apparent on your face. "some dessert for you. it's your favourite too, so you better eat it." having to bite back a smile you nod silently, going back to eating your ramen. it was then that you saw jisung in a bit of a different light, a certain spark igniting something within you that has been there for a while now.

03:10 PM - 11 hours on the run

you spent the majority of your runaway adventure up until now walking through town, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. spending time with jisung always made you feel content, whether you two were getting on each other's nerves just for the sake of it or if you were laying in your bed together, you head nuzzled in his chest while he pressed lingering kisses to the top of your head - not once has his presence made you feel uncomfortable or overwhelmed. you decided to take a detour through a park, the weather luckily lovely enough for a slow walk. jisung was just about to ask you another random question when he looked over at you, only to catch you yawning. he noticed your droopy eyes and smiled a bit.

"how about we sit down for a bit? i'm tired of walking," he stops walking, gesturing at a nearby tree. "there's some shade we can sit in. i promise i'll even let you have a little snooze on my lap." he was teasing you now, the mischievous glint in his eyes making you smile. "sounds good to me." you breathed softly, the emotional exhaustion mixing with the hours of walking finally crashing down on you. jisung gently took your hand under the disguise that he was just leading you over to the tree, his nimble fingers twitching to intertwine your fingers again.

your head was in jisung's lap, his fingers absentmindedly playing with your hair. you were so tired, so exhausted and you wanted nothing more than to just sleep. it would make you feel bad though, jisung sitting there while you were happily resting on his lap. your eyelids became heavier and heavier, your view hazy and mind cloudy. jisung took notice of this, smiling down at you with the most gentle smile you've ever seen. "it's fine, bun. just sleep a bit, i'm here when you wake up. you need your rest," his voice was so incredibly sweet, and you could almost feel yourself tear up in your hazy state. pressing a comforting kiss to your forehead, he starts to stroke your cheek, quietly murmuring, "sleep baby." your heart jumped. you wanted nothing more than to sit up and finally talk about your relationship with jisung. then he started to hum softly, sleep finally taking over your body.

02:43 AM - 23 hours on the run

after your nap you went for dinner, jisung insisting on paying for the both of you. he made sure you ate enough, offering to order more food multiple times and sporting a cute pout on his lips every time you refused. after you were done eating you both just sat there for a bit, neither of you sure of what to do next. it was quiet between you, causing you to look at jisung a bit more intently than you usually would. you felt your heart speed up a bit when he looked up to catch you staring at him, a small smile playing on his lips. your eyes flickered to his lips, and for a split second, you thought about just leaning over, pressing a kiss to his lips. jisung didn't seem to notice though, his own gaze way too fixated on your lips, the same thoughts you were distracted by swirling around his brain.

after a while you decided to leave, the two of you back on the streets. you could see the exhaustion showing on jisung's face, feeling a bit guilty for making him come with you. you were in the outskirts of town by now, and there was no way for you to go back to either of your homes anytime soon. you knew that there was a hotel nearby and you made up your mind right at that exact moment. jisung looked at you with surprise when you suddenly took his hand in yours, pulling him towards the rundown hotel. "y/n?" jisung called out to you in a confused tone while you were leading the way.

stopping in front of the hotel you look at him, a tightlipped smile on your face. "i know you're tired sung, so it's probably best we stay here for the night. our only other options would be a random park bench or some grass. that wouldn't be too comfortable or safe, now would it?", your tone got a bit cheeky towards the end, making a smile creep up on jisung's face. "thank you, y/n.", the sincerity in his voice caught you a bit off guard, your cheeks heating up a bit. "don't worry sungie, i'm the one who made you come with me after all. the least i can do is to make sure you get a proper place to rest."

you decided to share a bed, the both of you sleeping next to each other more often than not. you flopped onto the bed the second you entered the room, jisung chuckling a bit while closing the door. he chucked his bag on the floor and jumped in bed next to you, his arms engulfing you almost out of instinct. you nuzzled into him and closed your eyes, exhaustion taking over your body. you were ready to just fall asleep when you heard a small, "you know that i'm in love with you, right?" jisung's voice was quiet, broken almost. you stayed silent for a while, and even though your silence only lasted for a few seconds, it felt like jisung had to wait for hours. tightly wrapping your arms around his torso, you nuzzle into his neck, placing a few soft kisses along his jaw. you could feel him tense, his heart pounding in his ears and blush spreading over his neck. "i know sungie. but it’s okay, because i'm in love with you too..", you gently whispered, lips ghosting over his neck. "but i'm pretty sure you also already knew that, right sungie?"

11:01 AM - 31 hours on the run

you were woken up by small, chaste kisses being pressed onto your face. your eyes fluttered open and you were met with a pleased jisung, a content smile on his face and an adoring sparkle swirling in his eyes. he softly murmured "good morning," while nuzzling into your neck, the few strands of his hair that were tickling you making you giggle a bit. it went quiet again, both of you just basking in the presence and warmth of each other.

"i really want to call you baby." you couldn't help but burst out into small giggles when you heard jisung's grumble, his brows furrowing and pout forming on his lips. "hey, don't laugh! i'm serious, i've been waiting for this day for years now." he whined while he hid his face in your chest, making you wrap your arms around him and pull him even closer. "sorry sungie, but you're just so cute. call me what you want, baby." the small squeak he let out at the pet name warmed your heart, a goofy smile replacing his previous frown while he looks up at you. "that sounds good, can you repeat it,...baby?"

after countless small pecks and soft giggles, endearing pet names and warm hugs, the two of you finally decided to get up and leave. once you left the hotel, you wandered around a bit, unsure of where to go next. "y/n, are you feeling a bit better?" jisung suddenly asked, his grip on your hand tightening a bit.

"yeah, i am. it's weird, but just being out of that house for a while really helped," you looked up at him and smiled a bit. before jisung could reply you started speaking again; "you coming with me helped me a lot, too. you're always there for me. i couldn't think of anyone else i'd take with me to run away...even if it's just for two days.", you chuckled a bit at the end of your sentence. "honestly? you could've asked me to run away for good and i would've probably said yes. i'm going where you're going, sweetheart." the pet name rolled off his tongue effortlessly, a warm feeling spreading in your chest.

08:49 PM - 42 hours on the run

you were sitting next to each other, your head on jisung's shoulder and one of his arms wrapped around you. you knew that you had to get back soon, and jisung agreed to at least watch the sunset with you after your relentless begging. he knew he couldn't say 'no' to you, he never could. jisung was always a bit too soft for you, hardly ever being able to refuse you anything.

"sung, can i ask you something?" you muttered softly, lightly playing with a loose string on his pants. "anything, baby." you lift your head to look at him, taking in his features that were so perfectly illuminated by the setting sun. he was truly breathtaking, and he was truly yours.

"when did you realise that you love me?" jisung lets out a thoughtful hum at your question, thinking about it for a bit. "probably when you came over to take care of me when i broke my leg a few years ago. you were so stern about me not leaving the bed, and you pampered me so much. i'm pretty sure that's when i went 'wow, i love them' for the first time." you smiled at the memory of jisung laying in his bed with a cast on his leg, him whining about how you had to cuddle with him in order to help him get better. thinking back it was always quite obvious what the two of you felt for each other, neither of you brave enough to confess, though.

"what about you?" you looked up at him, thinking about the moment he first made you realise how deeply in love you were with him. when was it, really? was it the time he came to pick you up from work in the pouring rain with an umbrella because he knows how forgetful you are? or was it the time he stayed on the phone with you for five hours, singing you to sleep because your anxiety had been acting up again? or maybe it was the time he stayed with you for four days straight, making sure you were eating and taking breaks while you were studying for your finals. you don't really know when you realised you were in love with him; perhaps because deep inside you already knew all this time.

03:59 - back home after 48 hours

you and jisung were standing in front of your house, hands intertwined. "you know you can always stay with me, right?", using his free hand to caress your face he looks at you with a mix of concern and love in his eyes. nodding slightly you leaned a bit into his touch, letting out a sigh. "i'm going to be fine, sungie. thank you for coming with me, though." the way you smiled at him made his heart swell, and before he knew it he was cupping your face, pressing a tender kiss to your lips.

you both just stood in front of your house for a while, neither of you wanting to separate now that you finally had each other. lifting his hands to your lips, you press soft kisses onto his knuckles, jisung softly blushing and a shy smile on his lips. "i love you, sungie." you were so sincere, so soft and gentle and it made him want to cry. he doesn't know why, but the thought of parting ways with you now seemed almost cruel to him. he just wanted to hold you, kiss you and tell you all the mushy things he had kept to himself for the last few years. pulling his hands away from you, he immediately crushed you in a hug, taking a deep breath to really take in your scent. "i love you too, y/n. so much. please don't ever forget that."

running away for two days didn't really help your problems or make you feel like a new person. you realised something that not only changed you but also changed your life for the better, though; you loved jisung, and you were lucky enough to know that he loves you too. and maybe, just maybe, the two of you could actually run away one day, only the two of you. until then you were content with where you were, as long as he was beside you.

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fellulahh · 5 years ago

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Lucifer x MC x Satan Fic - Part 5/???

Read Parts 1-4 here!

Satan smiled at her warmly as she began to relax. In all truth, he thought MC would look good in anything she wore; even a bin bag.

But I suppose he’s a bit biased.

Frowning as he looked down at the kitchen counter, Lucifer began preparing lunch. MC was scheduled to be on food duty for the week but after the way he treated her, the eldest brother felt obliged to take the responsibility off her hands.

Ever since their evening together in his study, Lucifer had felt an overwhelming feeling of dread. Not only did he regret what he said, he also felt awful for hurting MC. His mood had only worsened too, for after seeing her in Satan’s clothing and the pair of them leave to get a drink, Lucifer could only assume the worse.

Would she really sleep with Satan to make her feel better?

He couldn’t be angry though. After all, it was him who pushed her away. Lucifer wanted to know exactly what had happened after that night but another part of him refused to think about it.

“You insolent fool.” He seethed quietly to himself as he chucked some vegetables into a pan.

All day his mind had been racing. He’d tormented himself again and again over the human staying with them; he couldn’t understand why he refused to think about her. ‘If it’s only because she’s a new face why do I get so defensive?’ He questioned himself in his head.

Before long, he’d fallen into a daydream as he pondered over the unfamiliar sensation in his chest. Lucifer hadn’t realised, but while his mind was distracted, he began burning dinner.

“Drat...” he muttered, quickly turning the nobs of the oven.

Meanwhile, entering the room, Belphie scrunched his nose at the smell of the burning food. “Jheez Lucifer, you trying to poison us today?” He mumbled, approaching the eldest brother.

Close behind him was Beel.

“I thought MC was on lunch duty today?” The orange haired demon questioned.

“She is - I just thought she might like a rest this week so I have taken all of her duties.” Lucifer answered, not taking his focus off the food in front of him.

“Why does she get special treatment?” Belphie asked offended.

“Because I upset her, Belphegor.” Lucifer sighed, “and now I am going to do what I can to make up for it.”

“where is she...?” Beel asked suspiciously.

“She’s out.” Lucifer answered simply.

“Out?” Belphie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Her and Satan have gone out together.” He muttered.

“Like a date?” Beel questioned surprised.

“I don’t know!” Lucifer breathed dramatically, “all I know is she came down today flaunting his shirt on her body before they left together.” He accidentally admitted.

As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted it. It wasn’t like Lucifer to allow himself to be so petty.

“Wait, she was wearing his shirt?” Belphie laughed, beginning to piece Lucifer’s words together.

“Uh oh...” Beel mumbled.

“What? What is it?” Lucifer questioned suddenly in a panic. What were they understanding that he didn’t?

“Nothing...it’s just that if there’s a reason you’re giving MC special treatment, I’d act on it fast.” Belphie sniggered.

“What are you insinuating?!” Lucifer asked, frustrated by his ambiguity

“Good luck, that’s all I’ll say.” He tittered before leaving the room.

Glancing at Beel in a moment of desperation, Lucifer looked at him expectantly. He didn’t anticipate the regretful look the sixth eldest had on his face though.

‘Why does he look like he’s knows something I don’t?’

“Should I even ask what your twin is implying?” He sighed, turning away.

“I think you already know.” Beel spoke quietly, making his way to the door.

As he walked past Lucifer, he put a quick, supportive hand on his shoulder before leaving. Before he could send his mind into overdrive, he heard the front door open; MC and Satan were home.

Lucifer’s body immediately stiffened. All he could picture were them both giggling to one another as they walk through the door hand and hand. ‘Stop torturing yourself!’ He scolded

“Lucifer?” A soft voice asked from behind him.

Just hearing her voice made his shoulders relax entirely. Spinning on his heel, Lucifer shot MC a surprised expression as he held a wooden spoon in his hand. She had a confused look on her face; she hadn’t expected to be greeted by the eldest brother. MC had practically frozen on the spot as soon as she saw him.

“MC.” He nodded seriously, “how are you?”

“I am concerned as to why you’re in here considering it’s my turn on food duty this week?” She questioned quietly as she narrowed her eyes. Her voice was a little harsh as she put up her defences.

Sighing, Lucifer placed the spoon down on the side. “I wanted to do something nice for you.” He admitted quietly, “...after our evening yesterday.”

“Oh...” MC breathed, unsure what to say.

“I never meant to upset you.” He insisted, leaning against the counter to share her gaze. His face hardened when he noticed she was still wearing Satan’s shirt. “Did you have a nice morning with my brother?” He asked, a small tone of spite in his voice.

“I did.” She nodded simply, “I’m very grateful for Satan actually - he helped me a lot last night.”

“I bet he did.” Lucifer muttered accidentally.

MC furrowed her eyebrows at his comment. Why was he being so off with her after he was the one to turn her away. “Excuse me?” She asked quietly, “Why are you being so cold?”

“I’m sorry.” He practically whispered, shaking his head. “I don’t know what got into me - it’s been a difficult 24 hours.”

MC momentarily remained silent as she questioned in her mind what he meant. Why was it difficult for him?

“For you and me both...” she breathed as her shoulders slumped.

Glancing up at her, Lucifer’s expression saddened when he saw her glassy eyes; the same ones she had after he told her not to express her feelings to him. He couldn’t bear to he the one to cause that sadness within her.

Moving away from the counter, he slowly approached MC until they were face to face. Well, chest to face in this case. Lucifer’s face softened as he gazed upon her while MC’s eyes widened. She could already feel her heart beating hard in her chest from the close proximity of them both.

Even she could see the troubled look the eldest brother had in his eyes; his emotions weren’t only known by him now. MC couldn’t utter a word as she gawped up at Lucifer.

Cautiously, he lifted a hand. MC’s breath hitched in her throat when she felt him move toward her. Gently holding one of her hands in his, Lucifer sighed.

“I care about you ever so deeply, MC.” He admitted quietly.

MC’s mind raced. THIS is the sort of sign she always assumed meant love! How could she not think it implied that?! Thinking back, Lucifer never actually explicitly said he didn’t love her...did he?

“I don’t understand you...” she whispered concerned as she allowed him to hold her. “What about yesterday?”

Once again his eyebrows knitted. “The only words I want you to focus on are the ones that I’ve told you now.” He insisted, “now please rest while I cook you lunch - there’s an iced coffee in the fridge for you if you’d like it...unless Beel has drank it.”

“Thank you.” MC nodded to herself.

Lucifer didn’t want to let go of her hand but he knew he had to. If they stayed there in that moment for any longer, he’d eventually have to admit to himself that he felt something for her. But unfortunately, his mind wouldn’t allow that.

“It’s the least I could do.” He breathed before moving away, back to the cooker.

MC had a small blush on her cheeks as she remained just staring at him for a moment. Her eyes fell on the muscles on his back that she could see through his shirt. Then they moved to his hair, oh his hair. She adored the way small strands flopped in front of his face as he tendered to the pans on the stove.

Sheepishly, she made her way to the fridge, pulling out the iced coffee he’d mentioned. MC stole one last glance at Lucifer which he returned quickly. Even though it was only for a split second, feeling those crimson eyes fall on her made MC melt while Lucifer felt the exact same.

For the first time that morning she felt completely at ease as she walked back out of the door, passing Asmo on the way. Although Satan had cheered her up, there was still a sinking feeling deep in the bit of her stomach that seemed to now be slowly vanishing.

Glancing over his shoulder at MC, Asmo smirked to himself as he watched her leave the room. ‘That shirt doesn’t belong to her!’ He thought as his lustful mind went crazy.

Skipping into the kitchen, he almost made Lucifer jump as he crept up behind him. “Why don’t you ever say you care deeply for me? Am I not good enough?” He questioned with a playful pout on his lips.

Lucifer was taken aback by his brothers appearance. “Has anybody ever told you it’s rude to eavesdrop on people’s conversations?!” He asked quickly, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh please, I could practically smell the sexual tension from a mile away.” Asmo waved a hand casually, “speaking of sexual though, I hadn’t realised MC and Satan were so close!” He giggled, making Lucifer grow stiff.

“They merely went out for a drink, Asmodeus.” Lucifer mumbled as he stirred the pan.

“They went on a date too?!” He asked mesmerised, “why did nobody tell me this?! First I see MC emerge from Satan’s room this morning, then I see you two having a tender moment and now I find out they went on a date?!”

“If you don’t mind Asmodeus, I am trying to prepare lunch. Please refrain from playing Cupid.” Lucifer muttered annoyed.

Looks like the brothers are beginning to catch on! Do you reckon Asmo is Team Lucifer or Team Satan?

#obey me #obey me shall we date

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bnhavibes · 5 years ago

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Yay requests! I was wondering if you could do something like y/n giving Bakugou a back massage after a long day of training? ^^

Yo this turned out soooo much thirstier than I meant! It was supposed to be a cute fluffy thing, but nah. Part 2 is nsfw, link at the bottom. Enjoy!!

-Brit, @slut-zawa

Ao3

Rating: mature, heavy petting? Just a bit hornee ~3.7k words

Want to go to my room? || Katsuki Bakugou PART 1

Ding!

The smooth metallic sliding of the elevator doors opening rings out in the vast common room of the third floor of the U.A. dorms. The new architecture has surprisingly high-quality acoustics; any sounds echoing slightly against the plain walls and ceiling.

“Out of my way. Damn nerd.” The signature insult and strained voice of Bakugou makes you look up from your place on the couch. He stares down your freckled classmate, waiting for the smaller man to move aside. It’s definitely Bakugou’s voice, but something is...missing. Horrifying aggression (that was very unbecoming of a hero-in-training)? Murderous intent? Explosive competitiveness? It lacked its usual venomous bite. In fact, it was nearly devoid of all emotion.

Still, it prompts your poor, unfortunate green-haired classmate to stutter out an apology as he stumbles aside and makes his way past the blonde into the elevator. You can see Izuku’s ashamed blush all the way from where you’re sitting across the room. However, instead of the usual victimized expression in his eyes, he narrows them, worriedly looking Bakugou over. It’s a relief to know Izuku isn’t actually taking it personally. People always do that and it annoys you.

He’s noticed the same thing you have, and he’s assessing what could have happened, looking concerned. But he certainly can’t do anything about it. Not like you can.

You and Kirishima are the closest Bakugou has to actual friends. Having become significantly closer in recent weeks, you could actually say you were the blonde’s best friend. It was strange at first, seeing a more—dare you say it—vulnerable side to the blonde. You weren’t sure what that meant, and others would poke fun at him, jokingly calling you his “girlfriend.” That thought had certainly crossed your mind. It’s unlike Bakugou to be soft or even slightly friendly to anyone, and he did occasionally let his apathetic facade crumble just a trace around you.

It pissed you off that people would make fun of their own classmate for being human. Everyone needs a best friend, or someone they can be completely themselves with. It thrills you that you can be that person for Bakugou. That he trusts you more than he has ever trusted anyone. Maybe even his own family. Before all the students were made to live in the dorms, you had been his next door neighbor.

There was no way to ignore the incessant rageful scream-arguments coming from that house. You had met his mother a number of times. It broke your heart that she was always aggressive with him, never really acknowledging his emotions. No wonder he turned out so angry. No wonder he’s so afraid to show vulnerability to anyone. But, as much as Bakugou likes to pretend he doesn’t need people, you can see it in the way he has been seeking you out the past few weeks.

It started off as him asking small favors, as he would call it, never admitting to asking for help.

“Show me how you got that damn answer!” You had been sitting peacefully at your desk in math class when you saw a shadow come over your notebook where you were hastily scribbling down the next problem. Incredibly startled, you looked up to see a stern Bakugou pointing at his own math problem that was crossed out with a plethora of large ‘x’s. The other students shook their heads as they interpreted his question as accusing you of doing the problem incorrectly. At this point, you felt like you could speak his language, and saw that demand for what it was. He needed your help with that problem.

Of course, you never called him out on it, lest he yell some unsavory things. You wondered if it was some strange compulsion for Bakugou to call everyone in the class derogatory nicknames. As time went on and you two interacted more, he eventually broke and called you by your given name. You would even go as far to say that he enjoyed your presence, as much as he may have tried to hide it.

The two of you didn’t necessarily do anything together, the man would just seek out the quiet companionship you offered him. A number of times, he had knocked on your dorm room with a gentle “hey. Open up.” When he stepped in, he would silently hold up his textbooks, plop down on your bed next to you and just study. Only a few words would be exchanged here or there, and you supposed it was a somewhat strange friendship, but you couldn’t ask for anything better.

Well, you certainly could, but you can’t let your feelings get in the way of the only safe friendship Bakugou has. It seems so obvious that you make him soft, but the man is so cut off from anything romantic, you always end up doubting his feelings for you. He would probably say he has to make it to the top first. Can’t bother with such trivial things before he is the number one hero.

You minutely shake your head to clear it, to focus on the matter at hand, as Bakugou practically trips over his own feet on his way towards the couch. It’s a far cry from his usual swagger, each step carefully planned, confident, without a trace of doubt.

He looks positively beat, and as he approaches you see the red scratches, sanguine beaded up and coagulated in approximated lines all over his exposed forearms. The soot layering his hands and face from being within the explosion radius of his own quirk. You watch as a drop of sweat rolls down his forehead, nose, down to his mouth, causing him to spit and make some sort of enraged noise. He’s back!

To your disappointment (that you would never admit to anyone), the anger ebbs away from his face, taking the crease out of his brow as he flops down next to you on the couch. Seeing your friend’s rapid chestrises, you gather that he is still catching his breath. Must have been one hell of a training session.

You regard him curiously for a moment, but don’t dare ask a question about what happened. You know him better than that. His stark change in demeanor tells you all you need to know.

He doesn’t even have the energy to make some sardonic remark about you staring at him. His head lolls back against the couch to gaze blankly at the ceiling. Trailing your gaze down the long line of his neck, you wrench your eyes away from the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, gulping. Focus.

“Need anything in particular?” You try your luck at asking a question. The moment of vulnerability feels so fragile, you’re sure that a single word will shatter it, rain down like shards of glass. But it doesn’t.

Bakugou just makes a low noncommittal noise in the back of his throat and stays put. Suddenly, you feel so lucky that you are his safe place. You never have to say anything to each other, one look and there’s a tacit understanding of everything going on with the other. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk; he just needs your silent support and gentle presence.

Bakugou looks so tense, and you find your hands on his shoulders before you can stop yourself. Before even he can stop you. Your fingers gently dig circles into his taut muscle through his jumper. If you weren’t staring at him like you are, you may have missed the way he turns his torso slowly away from you with each knead of your hands until you can reach both shoulders comfortably. Luckily, he still leans into your touch. You could have—and probably would have—taken it as a rejection if he wasn’t still so relaxed against you. He even heaves a deep sigh of what must be relief.

However, it’s still difficult to access his skin or see where you’re touching with the cursed turtleneck portion of the blue gym uniform. The normally explosive man has been receiving everything well so far, and you can tell he needs this, so you feel safe to continue. Your quaking hands cautiously, so slowly, reach around front to unzip the jumpsuit. You’ve never been undressed around each other before, and you’re afraid how he will interpret you doing this to him. Is this what friends do?

You kind of expect him to stop you when you roll the material mostly off his shoulders. Anyone can walk in and get the wrong idea. It wouldn’t be the wrong idea as far as you’re concerned. You understand your feelings are a little complicated but it can be easily boiled down to this: you like him. A lot. How can you not? He’s just so complex and beautiful.

A surge of affection washes over you and spurs your hands to run gently over the hard muscle of his shoulders. He’s so warm. He’s so warm it gives you pleasant chills that race across your arms, cascade down your spine, raising your goosebumps. You knew Bakugou had a lot of muscle mass,—you’ve been fortunate enough to see him train in that blessed black tank top—but seeing it up close is….entirely different. All you can think is wow.

Watching his large pectorals peek out the top of the zipper, you notice the rolling beads of sweat across his chest. Focus.

He actually closes his vermillion eyes, brow melting into a relaxed position, tension falling away from his jaw as your hands draw invisible swirling patterns over his skin. Noticing how the pads of your fingers drag uncomfortably over his shoulders, you are thankful you have lotion in your purse that is lying slightly smashed between you two on the couch.

One hand continues warming up his shoulders, while grabbing the lotion with the other. You smile as you read the label: “Sunflower Cherry body butter.” Whatever the hell that means, it’s girly and surely he doesn’t want it. But his eyes don’t open back up, and he is clearly far too exhausted at this point to care. He couldn’t even muster up the energy to yell at Izuku. That says a lot. Sunflower cherry it is.

The other hand reluctantly pulls off the tired man for a moment to warm up the lotion, lathering it over your palms. The floral scent wafts to your nose, and you sigh contentedly. Your hands spread the pastel pink lotion over his shoulders and neck, using more pressure now that your hands glide smoothly over his skin.

Your eyebrows knit in worry at the knots of muscle he has all over. Bakugou does have a habit of pushing himself too far, but you had never thought of the physical repercussions of that. Certainly he hadn’t either before that training session.

Letting your thumbs do the work at first, you cup his shoulder with your fingers, running deep circles into the hardest areas of muscle. Starting out gentle and gradually increasing the pressure, he... groans? when you move your thumb over to a sensitive spot on his shoulder.

Bakugou. Made a noise. Acknowledging that he feels good from your massage. Oh my god, is this really happening? You try to keep it together.

You giggle gently in acknowledgment, hoping your voice doesn’t break or betray your pleasurable giddiness when you ask, “there?” The blonde nods once and you continue to rub at the tense spot, motivated by his soft sighs. Sighs. You might be hyperventilating by now, unbelieving that he is reacting to you this way.

He isn’t usually this vulnerable around you and it gives you such deep satisfaction that he trusts you enough for this. There’s a low heat churning in your abdomen, deriving a possessive delectation from the fact that you’re the only one who gets to see him this way.

Minutes pass by as you slowly rub the tension from the blonde’s shoulders, muscle knots melting away. Red splotches bloom up on his skin from the repetitive friction of your fingers. You move your thumbs to either side of his spine at his shoulder blades and, using deep pressure, run all the way up to his neck.

The movement is infinitesimal, but you are certain he shivers at that. So you repeat the motion, rewarded with a hitch of breath. You smile gingerly as your thumbs ease circles into the muscles on either side of his cervical spine. With light pressure, you drag your other fingers comfortingly over his neck.

You pull the lump of muscle away from his spine as you have seen in swedish massage videos. You have genuinely no idea what it’s supposed to do, but you assume it feels nice. After working on his neck for a few minutes, reveling in the gentle groans he gives, your hands travel up to rub circles into the blonde’s scalp. You spread your fingers, covering most of the sides of his head, relishing the feel of the chaotic spikes of his hair being surprisingly soft at the roots. He lets out a shaky sigh as you scrape your nails lightly along sensitive flesh, drawing circular, yet angular patterns. Like a kaleidoscope.

It’s rewarding to give Bakugou such relaxation, but he keeps letting his head fall back, becoming a part of the couch behind him in a way that makes it nearly impossible to reach anything. Also, in this position you have to constantly tear your wandering eyes from the absolutely sinful way he subtly arches his back. He’s definitely trying to suppress it, but you’re stripping away at his layers so that he can’t anymore. You want to run your tongue along the column of his spine.

Throwing your purse on the floor, you turn the blonde and bring him back so his head is resting in your lap. To your surprise, he is compliant. He’s more than compliant; he’s absolute putty in your hands. Here you can access every part of his scalp.

Your fingers ghost over the spot behind his ear, running back up to scratch lines into his scalp, earning another small moan from the male. You try desperately to ignore how Bakugou’s new position sends the vibrations all throughout your lap. It’s just enough to make your eyes flutter shut. Biting your lip, you try to keep your breaths even, lest he hear and judge you for getting turned on at something like this. What if he doesn’t return your feelings?

Another soft noise from the man in your lap brings you out of your mind, and back to the room. Glancing down at his now-slack features, you admire the harsh curve of his striking jawline, how the tip of his nose curls up at the end. He looks so peaceful and even a bit younger without anger and frustration wrinkling his face. It’s not often that you get the chance to just look at Bakugou, so you are sure to take your time to memorize every little detail.

Peering down at the male, you begin to notice his little tells when you do something particularly nice. His eyebrows twitch and raise, and his head tips up slightly into your touch. His lips dip open, jaw dropping minutely. It’s cute. And really hot. At the same time. It’s desperately arousing watching him lose his composure, and your mind can’t help but wonder how his face will contort during other activities. Eyes widening as your heart begins to pound, you’re certain Bakugou can probably feel it.

Your fingers curl along his hairline to distract yourself, gingerly raking your nails in and pulling the hair back up as if he was wearing a headband. You giggle when his hair flops back down. He lets out a relaxed, yet shaky exhale. At this point it’s safe to assume he has never had a massage before. He’s never been taken care of.

“You’re welcome,” you whisper jokingly, a lopsided smile adorning your face. Bakugou’s eyebrows twitch, pulling together, and he just grunts.

Another several minutes are spent with your fingers idly carding through his hair, when you notice the blonde’s breathing coming slowly and evenly. The poor guy fell asleep. At least that gives you a chance to ease some of the tension that had been building up in your abdomen. Your fingers continue mussing up his hair, and you feel safe to openly stare at him again. You hope that isn’t creepy, but who can resist drinking in the appearance of Bakugou when he is calm? It’s so rare that you feel obligated to take full advantage of this moment.

Other people may see Bakugou as a hot head and though you can’t deny that, what you see is so much more. An incredibly driven, dedicated man who knows what he wants and stops at nothing to get there. Every wrinkle on his brow maps out a victory or a time when he overcame great adversity. He doesn’t care how other people perceive his personality, he just wants to make sure they know he is unequivocally the best. You admire him greatly for that, where other people criticize him.

Unsure what compels you to do it, you find your head dipping down to plant a chaste kiss on his temple. When you pull back and open your eyes, you’re met with wide crimson orbs. Oh shit.

“Why did you do that?” He sits up as he asks the question, chest hovering close to yours, hot breath puffing down onto your face. Oh god. You brace yourself for the rejection of a lifetime. You can’t help but feel guilty that the only best friend Bakugou has is about to ruin a precious friendship that he probably needs. Your breathing coming quick, you stare back at him, analyzing his expression.

To your utter relief, there is no overt disgust written on his face, but the blonde is staring at you intently, awaiting your answer. His eyebrows are knitted together in bewildered confusion. He must see your nervousness, because he tries to reassure you. He never reassures anyone.

“I’m not mad. Jus’ wanna know.” Even now the man isn’t fully awake enough to not slur his words. Unfortunately that does nothing to ease your nerves as he continues to stare you down. You exhale deeply, mouth forming an “O” as you steel yourself and try to keep your shaky breaths under control. Though gazing into the deep burgundy of his eyes terrifies you to no end, you can’t look away.

“I.” You gulp, mouth dry. “I have-....I think I like you.” Now you can’t meet his gaze. You only hear a hitch of breath before a rough hand is on your chin, turning it gently to face him. Bakugou wears an unreadable expression before he pushes his forehead against yours, and you close your eyes, enjoying the closeness. You both are just panting into each other's slightly ajar mouths. Breathing the same hot, charged air. You can hear the soft smile in his voice when he asks,

“Can I?” In lieu of an answer, you surge forward to seal your plush lips over his. He sighs into the kiss, deepening it immediately. Tilting his head, he brings another large hand to the back of your neck to pull you into him. His tongue darts out to run along your bottom lip and you open up for him. You moan as his tongue slips into your mouth, licking along every surface he can. It’s like he’s been waiting forever to do this, and he lays his desperation out in the open for you to see.

The heat in your core is back in full force, sending scorching waves through your body as the hand on your neck comes to the small of your back. His hands are scouring over every bit of you, greedily squeezing and kneading and stroking. You arch your body into him, frustrated that you can’t get the friction you need, but breath hitching at how you can feel his ab muscles contracting against you. Your hands are stroking down his arms and chest, appreciating the way his muscles pull taut under your touch.

He breaks away first, trying to catch his breath, but wastes no time in trailing sloppy kisses down your jawline and neck. He sucks on a spot at the base as one calloused hand comes to stroke up your thigh. Widening your legs, you gasp and whine as your hands dig into the roots of his spiky locks and pull. You delight at the full-bodied groan that earns you, and he pulls away from your neck with a searing gaze.

“Want to go to my room?” His deep voice rasps. You do. You very much do.

Part 2

#bnha #my fic #my writing #brit #brit writes #YO #part two coming soon lmao #I made this too thirsty not to continue #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha reader insert #katsuki bakugou headcanon #bnha fanfiction

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glassbangtan · 4 years ago

Text

onto the next {kim seokjin x reader}

words: 15.9k

summary: you just need to start a new life. you need to get out of this small town and start fresh. you’re beginning to think you made the wrong decision until a kind man named seokjin offers to help you navigate the trains.

genre: uhhhhhh fluff??? angst???

notes: this literally has no plot, don’t let the summary fool you. but it’s cute!!! - masterlist - support my writing or ask about commissions!

----

you need to get out of here.

fuck, you don’t even know how it happened. you left school, and you had plans. so many plans. an entire life laid out ahead of you. once upon a time, you were one of those hopeful little kids, buzzing to get out of the education system so you could pursue the dreams you so desperately wanted to pursue.

but then you were actually given independence, and it spiralled from there.

you wouldn’t say it was too much. you’re not that dramatic. it was just a shift - a big shift. you ended up with a job at a nearby Chinese takeout, working from four in the afternoon to ten at night, dealing with drunk people and little kids and answering phones. it was good at first, just getting money, but over time, when the novelty wore off, you wondered what the hell you were doing there. this wasn’t part of your plan. you should be travelling the world right now.

so here you are, a few months into your mental breakdown, finally tipping over the edge.

you stare at the list of trains flashing overhead in bright red letters. in your pocket, your phone blares with the continuous text messages from your parents, asking how you are, if you’re willing to tell them anything yet, if you’re safe. you’ll text them back once you know what you’re doing, but for now, you just need to get out of here.

there’s plenty of options. more options than you can handle, really; you thought it would be easier than this. you’d just walk into the train station and pick a destination, and your life would finally begin. now, however, your mind is a tangled mess of emotions, doubt, and everything that comes with it.

you slump down on a nearby bench and duck your head in your hands. you don’t realise you’re crying until your sleeves start getting damp.

“are you alright?”

you don’t lift your head. “no.”

the bench creaks as the stranger sits down. a shoulder nudges your own, firm and warm, probably adorned by a bulky coat given the frosty weather of korea at the moment.

“oh. that’s not very good.”

you drop your hands. the next train finally closes its doors and speeds out of the station, leaving you with yet another hour to gather your thoughts; it’s the second train that you have let slip through your fingers, because you still don’t even know where you want to go.

you turn, glancing at the man beside you. he’s eating a packet of starburst, staring out at the railway tracks. he’s wearing a thick black coat over a hoodie, and he truly looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

he catches you staring after a few seconds and immediately offers you a starburst. “hungry?”

you hesitantly take one, though you don’t undo the wrapper. instead, you play with the sugary square, thankful to have something keeping your hands occupied.

“so,” the stranger continues, “why are you crying?”

how direct.

“i wasn’t crying.”

the man glances at you, raises a brow. his features are surprisingly handsome, a set of plump lips and kind eyes that take a little bit of fear from your body. “are you sure about that?”

“pretty certain.”

“did you miss your train or something? sometimes i feel like crying when i’ve missed my train; it’s very stressful.”

you blink. “no. no, i haven’t missed my train.”

he perks up. “oh, good! what train are you getting then? maybe i can help you with the times.”

that’s really the million dollar question, isn’t it? what train will you find yourself upon? what city will you find yourself travelling to?

you have no idea.

“i have no idea.”

the man pauses as if waiting for the punchline to some kind of joke. you unwrap your starburst and pop it in your mouth. overhead, a voice announces that the next train will be arriving in fifty minutes.

when the silence stretches beyond anything acceptable, the man awkwardly coughs and says, “you don’t know?”

“i don’t know.”

“so you’re just. . . crying in the train station for no reason, with no train to catch?”

“i never said i didn’t have a train to catch. i just don’t know what one i’m catching yet.”

the man nods. you can tell, somehow, that he still doesn’t understand what you’re trying to say, but he’s too polite to question you any further. instead, he looks up at the signs above and says, “i’m heading to Gwangju, if that helps.”

Gwangju. you’ve heard wonderful things about that place. it’s pretty, apparently, though you can only base that off things you’ve heard from others.

“Gwangju,” you repeat, as if testing the word. “why are you going to Gwangju?”

he shrugs. “i just need to get away for a little while.”

your heart stutters, eyes snapping round to look at him. he sits completely straight, fidgeting with a strawberry starburst; his fingers are lovely, long and slightly bent in places.

i just need to get away for a little while.

oh, how fate works in the most wild ways.

“so do i,” you say. “i need to get away, too.”

his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “really? is that why you’re here?”

“i’m kind of looking for a place to start fresh, i suppose, yeah. i woke up this morning, grabbed my bag and just. . . walked here. i have enough money for a decent train fare, but i don’t have any plans.” you shrug, awkwardly glancing to the floor. “i don’t think i really thought it through, though, because now i have no idea what i’m doing.”

“well, that’s the fun, isn’t it?” the man nudges your arm. when you look at him, he’s grinning again, tiny little dimples appearing just beneath the points of his mouth. “don’t be scared. it’ll work out. what’s the worst that could happen?”

your stomach turns; you were kind of hoping he wouldn’t ask that question, because that means you have to actually ponder over everything that could possibly go wrong, and you’ve got a list. a mental list, compiled from the very moment you decided this was your next course of action.

the man must notice your sudden hesitation, as his eyes widen and he leans forward, trying desperately to meet your gaze before you fall too deeply into your own pessimistic thoughts. “okay, maybe i shouldn’t have said that. look, let’s not think about the worst that could happen, alright? how about we start by making sure this is something you actually want to do.”

“it is.” the affirmative spills from your mouth with no hesitation. “i need to do this. i need to.”

the man nods. “good. that’s alright, then. next step is probably figuring out where you actually want to go.”

you risk another glance at the red words flashing above your head; they look no less daunting than they did the first time you looked at them. so many places, so many opportunities, and you’re not sure whether you’ll fit in with any of them.

but you have to make your decision now. you have roughly half an hour to make your mind up, buy a ticket and get on that god damn train, so you really shouldn’t be wasting any more time.

“Gwangju doesn’t sound like a bad shout.”

the man’s eyebrows shoot up once again. “really?”

you shrug. “well, you brought it up. i’ll give it a go.”

he grins. “it really is a great place. we can get the train together.” he stands up. “come on, let’s get you a ticket.”

and so, it begins.

your heart doesn’t steady the entire time. you buy a ticket with the man - seokjin, you learn- by your side before the two of you take a seat at the edge of the platform, waiting patiently for the train to arrive. he pulls out a bag of pretzels and shares them with you, even though your stomach feels like it’s going to turn inside out with every bite; you’re too nervous to do anything besides nod and hum to everything seokjin is trying to explain, and he’s trying to explain an awful lot.

he goes into detail about the sights of Gwangju, and how he’s booked a B&B, and it’s going to be such a fun trip. you have so many questions about why he’s doing this, how he has the confidence to just get up and leave home like he has no commitments to anything. the questions don’t make an appearance, though, because you’re fairly certain opening your mouth will result in you vomiting all over the place.

finally, after what feels like forever, the train comes screeching to a halt and the doors open. you’re frozen in place for a moment, seokjin staring at the side of your head, waiting for you to make the first move. you kind of appreciate the way in which he waits, how he’s not pushing you to just get up and do it; if you really wanted to turn your back on this opportunity now, he wasn’t going to stop you.

you inhale and rise on shaky legs. seokjin follows close behind, letting you guide him to the train. you clamber on board and grab a seat, seokjin sitting down beside you. he pushes his hood off his head once he’s finally seated, letting out a quiet sigh of relief; his black hair sticks up, only getting worse when he runs his nimble fingers through the strands.

“are you nervous?”

“i think that’s pretty obvious.”

seokjin chuckles, flopping back in his seat with a lazy grin. “i know. i just thought i should get you to speak to maybe take your mind off things.”

you sigh; you have to admit, now that you’re on the train, and you know you’re not fully, fully alone, your nerves are dissipating just a little bit. you can breathe a bit better than before, and you haven’t had the urge to burst into tears in nearly an entire hour - it’s progress.

“so,” he continues. “are you going to explain to me what’s really going on here?”

you flick your eyes up, raising a brow. “i didn’t lie; i was being serious when i said i just needed to get out of here.”

“yeah, i get that, but surely there must be something else to it. not everyone just. . . leaves.”

“isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?”

seokjin shrugs, folding his arms across his chest. he’s slouched in his chair now, legs spread, head tilted back. he’s so low that you have to look down to address him. “i travel for work, if you must know. getting on trains and travelling the country isn’t something i’m not used to. you, however, didn’t even know how to work the train system.”

you scowl. “that’s not true. i could have handled this on my own perfectly fine.”

“i don’t doubt that. i’m just saying, i’m still not convinced you’re telling me everything.”

“and why should i? i don’t even know who you are.”

seokjin hums, staring out into the aisle as more people clamber onto the train; it’s getting very full now, with some people having to stand as the seats become more and more occupied.

“good point,” he says. “at least tell me this; on a scale of one to ten, how prepared are you for this trip?”

you don’t hesitate. “zero.”

seokjin’s eyebrows rise. “z-zero? like, you have no preparation whatsoever?”

“i have my bag with me.”

seokjin waits.

you don’t say anything else, because you have nothing else to say. you have the clothes in your bag, and the money in your wallet, and that is all.

“i was planning on making the big decisions once i actually got to where i’m going,” you elaborate.

“do you have any friends in Gwangju?”

“no.”

seokjin struggles to push himself upright. “do you even have a place to stay?”

“i literally didn’t even know i would be on this train a few hours ago; of course i don’t have a place to stay.”

seokjin looks borderline horrified, all wide eyes and open mouth. he’s staring at you like you have two heads, waiting for you to say “sike!” and put him out of his misery.

you glance down at your hands. “have you got any of those pretzels left?”

“christ, y/n, you’re really taking this spontaneity thing to a whole new level. a dangerous level.”

you roll your eyes, even though you know he’s right. “i’ll be fine. i have enough money for a B&B for at least a night or two, and after that, we’ll see what happens-”

“you’ll see what happens?”

“why are you so worried? i’m fine! i’ll be fine!”

seokjin shakes his head, eyes still wide. “i’m not going to let you walk around an unfamiliar city with nothing but your good intentions; you can stay with me at the B&B for a while - until you get yourself on your feet.”

you blink, certain you’ve heard him wrong.

he slouches again, shaking his head as he murmurs about how some people can be so dumb, and how he never would have helped you follow through with such an insane plan, and how you pulled on his heartstrings when he saw you crying, how he shouldn’t be so nice because then he ends up on trains to Gwangju with people who clearly have some kind of death wish-

you slap his shoulder.

“ow!” he glares at you. “what was that for?”

“i’m not raiding your fucking B&B.”

he rubs his shoulder. “you’ve got no other options. two nights isn’t going to be enough to find you a job, or a decent place to live - keep that money you were going to spend on a B&B and use it for - like - travelling to job interviews or something.”

“i don’t even know who you are!” and that seems to be the main argument here, the most valid. you genuinely have no idea who this bloke is, besides his name and a few weird facts he felt the need to tell you whilst you were waiting for your train to arrive.

he shrugs like such a fact is no big deal. “i’ll take a thank you, actually.”

you scowl, glaring at him, but he doesn’t look up. stubborn little bastard. instead, he tilts his head out and stares back through the centre of the train, that infuriating little smirk on his face that tells you he knows he’s getting on your nerves, and doesn’t really care.

you cross your arms over your chair and slouch in the same way he is. “fine. but if you murder me-”

“i won’t murder you.”

“how do i know that for definite?”

he shrugs. “you don’t. but you’re more likely to die from hypothermia after you end up homeless on the streets of Gwangju in the middle of winter.”

that shuts you right up. he has a point, and though you barely know him, you have been given no reason to truly believe he is out to harm you in any way, shape or form.

and so, in your huff, you pull your headphones from your bag and place them on your head. you blast music, ignoring seokjin’s eye roll; you know you’re being petty, but so what? you’re tired, and hungry, and his stubbornness has somehow managed to wriggle under your skin moreso than you thought possible. you’re not usually a very angry person - you let people get away with lots of things - but there’s something in the way seokjin talks, something in the way he looks at you, something in the way he is that just. . . gets to you a little bit.

it’s probably mean. judgemental. it’s one of those things your dad used to scold you for, one of those things you grew out of after your first year in school. but here it is, making a comeback specially for this stranger sat beside you.

the train travels for another hour and a half before finally coming to a halt in Gwangju station. you stare out the window, watching the bright blue pillars come into view, the flocks of people swarming the platform. people in business suits, with briefcases and grimaces on their faces. seagulls are pecking at discarded food on the floor. a child is throwing a tantrum whilst his mother hastily pats her coat pockets for any sign of her train ticket.

seokjin nudges your arm, even though he can see you staring out the window. “we’re here.”

“is it always this hectic?” you ask, tugging your headphones off your head.

“at this time of day, yeah.” he glances at his watch. “we should probably get going pretty soon if we want to grab a taxi; they’ll be packed right now.”

and so, you follow seokjin off the train, through the station and out into the world.

it’s not too unfamiliar; you’ve been to places like this. your home town was pretty densely populated, so the crowds do not faze you. the only thing is, this isn’t your home town, and that’s the part that’s getting to you.

it’s so similar, but you’re too aware of the chance to take that into consideration.

there are tall buildings, and small buildings, and tiny shops with smoke billowing from chimneys. the air is crisp and cold, forcing you to wrap your coat a little tighter around yourself. you’re standing stock still at the top of the station stairs, and yet already you are overwhelmed with the abundance of opportunities already throwing themselves headfirst into your life.

you’re going to throw up.

seokjin’s gentle touch on your elbow draws you back to reality. you inhale sharply, tugging your hand into your chest.

“what?”

he raises a brow. “you’re still in a mood with me?”

you scowl, dropping your hand to your side. “sorry. no. i just - i’m a little jumpy, that’s all.” you offer him a grin, tired and probably not worth the bother, but it’s something you hope he’ll accept given the circumstances. “let’s find that taxi, shall we?”

it takes a while, but eventually you and seokjin manage to clamber into a taxi together. when you offer to pay half the fare, seokjin glares and shoves your hand away, which only frustrates you. you say nothing, though, because you don’t want to seem ungrateful.

especially when you pull up to the B&B.

because it’s glamorous.

more glamorous than it has any right to be.

honestly, what kind of B&B has a chandelier in the room? not only that, but there’s a grand double bed in the centre, two bedside tables each adorned with a pitcher of ice cold water, plus a massive television set on a chest of drawers at the front of the room. the window, covered by a set of black out curtains, looks out over the city. in darkness, Gwangju looks like something straight out of a film. there’s a christmas tree glistening in the distance, and a few people dressed as elves are walking around, taking pictures with kids.

“okay,” you say. “this isn’t really what i was expecting.”

seokjin is shedding his coat, barely even giving the tremendous room a once-over. he glances over his shoulder, frowning when he notices you just standing in the doorway, your coat still on, your bag still on, your jaw dropped open.

“what do you mean?” he asks. “take your coat off, bloody hell. i’ve turned the heating on. it’s gonna get boiling in here in about two minutes.”

hesitantly, you tug your coat from your shoulders, letting all your belongings clatter to your feet. seokjin straightens up, turning to you with his hands on his hips.

“are you okay?”

“seokjin, this room is so fucking expensive.”

he raises a brow. “how do you know that?”

you gesture to the room in question, as if that is answer enough.

and to any normal person, it certainly would be. nobody goes to a B&B expecting glamour, but that’s exactly what you’ve been given, and you’re shocked to find that seokjin isn’t even mildly surprised by it. he isn’t even taking the time to admire the thick material of the duvet.

the duvet of the only bed in this entire room, but that’s a problem you’ll sort out when it’s actually time to sleep.

seokjin glances around, that eyebrow of his still raised. “i stay here every time i come to Gwangju.”

“oh, good for you!” you push the door closed and dart towards the bed. flopping on your back, you wriggle your fingers, digging them into the duvet. “i could suffocate under this, you know.”

seokjin rolls his eyes, strolling over to where you have unceremoniously abandoned your things by the door. he picks them up and lobs them onto the sofa at the other end of the room, before turning back to witness your episode of complete fascination.

“so this is all it takes to get you out of your mood?”

your smile drops. “i wasn’t in a mood.”

“you seemed pretty moody to me. you didn’t say a word to me the entire train ride.”

heat rushes to your face; okay, maybe you let your nerves get the better of you. in all honesty, seokjin didn’t necessarily do anything wrong - yes, he was stubborn, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer, but he clearly has your best interests at heart. he’s giving you a room to stay in. he’s put up with you this entire time, and he hasn’t even known you a full day.

you sigh, hands dropping on your stomach. “okay, sorry. you’re right. i was a tiny bit moody, but i was just tired. and hungry.”

“you could have said that.” seokjin gestures towards the bed. “pick what side you want and i’ll go order us dinner.”

it takes you a minute to register what he’s just said.

when you do, you scramble upright, stopping him in his tracks. his hand is inches away from the phone, but he pauses to glance at you.

“what is it now?”

“we’re sharing a bed?” you bounce on the mattress, exaggerating your point. “like, this bed?”

“do you see any other bed in the room?”

you look around as if doing so will somehow manifest a single bed into your space. you’ll even take a camp bed at this point. a pull-out sofa. your standards aren’t high.

“i snore, you know,” you blurt out.

seokjin tilts his head. his smile reappears, those dimples showing beneath his mouth; they’re not cheek dimples by any means, but they border on cheek dimples, and they’re cute either way.

you don’t know why you’re focusing on them so much.

“i don’t mind,” he says. “i’ll be asleep anyway.”

“i also move around a lot,” you barrel on. “i might kick you, or hit you by accident. i once gave my best friend a nose bleed when she was staying over at my house.”

seokjin nods, reaching for the telephone. you can tell he’s turning your voice into background noise now, probably fed up with hearing your excuses.

“seokjin, sharing a bed with a stranger is weird,” you whine.

“feel free to sleep on the floor then,” he hisses over his shoulder. “now what do you want to eat?”

the mention of food is enough to bring you back to your senses. you bounce off the bed and grab the menu at the side of the phone, flicking through it as seokjin makes idle conversation with the girl on the other end; apparently, the two of them know each other. he’s calling her lily - a first name basis kind of thing. you can’t help your teasing grin, flicking your eyes to him every now and then.

finally, he nudges your elbow and says, “can i have...”

you point to each of the meals you want, and seokjin reels them off to dear old lily. he places his own order, says goodbye and sets the telephone down.

“happy days,” he says. “she says that should be about ten minutes; you ordered a lot of food.”

“i’m hungry,” you reply.

“no shame in that.” he glances at the clock hung upon the wall. “i’m gonna go grab a shower and get into my pyjamas before the food gets here. unless you want to go in first?”

you wave a dismissive hand. “i’m just gonna throw on a movie. anything you want to watch?”

“surprise me.” with that, he scoops up his pyjamas and heads into the en-suite bathroom, locking the door behind him.

---

the food arrives exactly twelve minutes after seokjin set the phone down.

you’ve been counting.

you had thrown on the movie Elf, basking in seokjin’s groan when he emerged from the bathroom - all wet hair and cute pyjamas - to see your film of choice. nonetheless, the two of you are sat in bed when the doorbell rings, laughing as will ferrel scoops a forkful of spaghetti mixed with sweets into his mouth and makes a comment about how tasty it is.

“i always wanted to try that,” you say to seokjin’s back when he stands to get the door. “i think it would be a real experience.”

“oh, definitely.” he pulls open the door. “hello. yes, that’s for us. thank you. thank you, alright. yeah. yeah. thank you. okay, bye! bye!” he closes the door and wheels the tray of food into the centre of the room. you bound away from your pillows, grabbing the first bowl you can get your hands on - just plain old rice, but you dig in nonetheless.

seokjin grabs the chopsticks and dips them into the bowl you are holding, taking a lump of rice for himself. you set the bowl down between you, giving him easier access.

“i can cook, you know.”

he says this so off-handedly, not even looking up from the phone in his lap. you, however, pause, chopsticks halfway to your mouth.

“you can cook?”

he nods. “been cooking with my mum and dad since i was a kid. it’s kind of a skill of mine.”

you drop your chopsticks into the bowl. “alright, fess up. is there anything you can’t do?”

he smirks, still not looking up. it’s a little bit cocky, and it sends a surprising thrill up your spine to see it.

you nudge his arm. “i’m serious.”

“i’ll cook something for you one day, how about that? then you can decide if cooking counts as something i can do.”

you nod; it’s a promising deal, though you can’t help but ponder over the hidden promises beneath those words. one day, a phrase often used to describe a time in the future.

which means he wants to see more of you.

it’s embarrassing that such a thought pushes to the forefront right now. again, you are reminded of just how little time you have spent with this man, a man who is essentially a stranger and nothing more, a man who has proven quite capable of getting on your nerves.

it strikes you then, with this little fact in mind, that you don’t know an awful lot about him. granted, you haven’t exactly had the time to dive deep into the kind of person he is, but you haven’t really made much of an effort, either. you spent half the train ride in a huff, and most of your time spent in the B&B has been spent fawning over the details of lavish living.

now, however, you stare at the side of his face. his jaw twitches as he eats, his eyes narrowing when he bites into a particularly strange piece of rice; he coughs into his fist, shakes his head and continues eating. he looks up once, meets your eyes and gives you the tiniest of smiles.

“what do you do for a living?”

it’s not exactly the first thing you want to know, but it feels like a good enough segway into his entire life story that you just roll with it.

his chewing slows. “me?”

“yes. you.” you take a bite of some beef in black bean sauce. “not just anyone can afford to stay in a place like this every other week. what’s your secret, seokjin?”

“i’m a chef,” he replies.

simple as that, you suppose. he’s a chef. he cooks for a living.

“do you travel to different restaurants?” you press.

“i’m pretty well-known around these parts; whenever certain restaurants are short on staff, i’ll go and help out.”

“so you must be pretty popular.”

he shrugs, the tiniest pink hue adorning his cheeks.

“you know, you look a little young to be a fully qualified chef.” you pause. “what age are you?”

“i’m twenty-six.”

“oh. good. i’m twenty-four.”

“and what does a twenty-four year old runaway do for a living?”

you scowl. “i’m not a runaway; my family and friends all know i’m here.”

he points his chopsticks at you. “from what i saw, you didn’t even know you would end up here before i showed up.”

he has a point.

you pop another bit of beef into your mouth, taking your time to chew. he asked you a question. you registered that question, and you have an answer, but it feels a little anticlimactic in comparison to the answer he was able to give.

seokjin narrows his eyes at your silence. he swallows the rice in his mouth and leans forward, fighting to meet your eyes in that same way he did back at the station. “so? what do you do?”

“i used to work at a chinese takeout restaurant.”

you wince, waiting for him to burst out laughing.

“what do you usually get from a chinese takeout?”

you look up. “what?”

already, he is back to chewing his food, rifling through a carton of vegetables with his chopsticks. “what is your go-to meal from a chinese restaurant? i’m a big fan of the sweet and sour, but you can’t go wrong with a curry, either.”

you nod. “yeah. yeah, i like chicken curry, too.”

seokjin smiles around his chopsticks, and for just a moment, all you can do is stare at him. you’ve found yourself doing that an awful lot recently, just sitting there with your eyes trained on his face, him none the wiser to your gaze. he looks around the room, chewing thoughtfully, before his eyes widen and he grabs the television remote from the bedside table. he says nothing to explain his actions, simply turns the television on and crawls back to his pillows, where he lays over the top of the comforter, his bowl of rice balanced on his chest.

he switches netflix on. “have you ever watched the haunting of hill house?”

“no.” you crawl to your own pillows, flopping down beside him. “is it scary?”

“it’s creepy,” he replies. “think you can handle it?”

glancing down, you catch sight of his playful smirk.

you roll your eyes and say, “put it on.”

and so, seokjin does just that. together, the two of you eat and binge watch this creepy, confusing tv show. by the end of it, you’ve both crawled beneath the covers and are trying desperately not to jump at the jump scares; seokjin laughed at you the first time you did it, before nearly spilling his black bean sauce over his pyjama shirt when he did the exact same thing a few minutes later.

“i hated that,” you say once the final episode drifts to a close. “i hated that so much.”

seokjin places the empty bowls on the floor before slumping further down in the comforter. “it’s good, isn’t it? gets me every time!”

“next time, i get to pick what we put on tv.”

he raises a brow. “and what would you pick?”

you hum thoughtfully. “i kind of want to rewatch the one direction movie.”

“good choice.”

“but that’s for tomorrow.” you tug the quilt up to your chin, snuggling within it’s warmth; you’re still quite freaked out, glancing round the now-dark room, half expecting some creepy, paranormal figure to jump out of the darkness. “for now, i’m going to sleep.”

“what are your plans for tomorrow?”

your stomach curls. “i gotta just. . . get my life together, i suppose. might go job hunting.”

“i have work in the morning, but you can call me if you need anything.”

you blink, glancing over at him; he’s doing it again, that thing where he says such kind, heartfelt things to a complete stranger and doesn’t even seem fazed by it. he just rolls onto his side, facing away from you, and drifts off to sleep.

----

seokjin is already gone when you wake up. he’s left a note. it’s simple: “off to work. here’s my number.”

followed, as promised, by his number.

you punch the digits into your own phone and try to ignore the spiralling question of how you’re going to pay your phone bill at the end of the month. you have high hopes that you’ll have found your footing by then, gotten a job, have enough money saved up to get a decent flat you can call your own.

it’s just a matter of taking the steps to get there.

you get dressed in a nice turtle neck jumper, coloured black for good measure. pairing it with a pair of fancy grey trousers and a pair of black boots, you head out onto the streets of Gwangju, and are abruptly reminded of the fact you have never walked through these streets in your life.

everything is so new. you have to walk with your head ducked down, glancing at Google Maps every few steps because you honestly have no idea where you’re going. after searching up job vacancies nearby, you start your journey to the nearest one.

it’s a clothing store. the boss isn’t in, so you leave.

the second one is a little more promising; they let you leave your cv at the front desk, and the boy working seems nice enough to actually pass your details on to his manager. however, you don’t get much further than that, and you move on to the next one.

it’s a bakery.

it’s a small bakery, most likely a family-run business. as soon as you walk in, you’re greeted by the smell of freshly baked bread and a smile peeking over the counter top; it’s a boy about your age, a flop of black hair covering one of his eyes. he’s wearing a plain white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing some muscular arms. he’s got an apron on, too, that says ‘Kiss the Cook’ on the front, but no name badge is in sight.

“morning,” he says, despite it literally being 12:30pm. “you doing alright?”

you run your hands through your hair; was he asking you that just out of kindness, or because you look dishevelled? you feel dishevelled, but you were hoping you had managed to pull yourself together a little bit before walking in here.

he tilts his head. “what can i get you?”

startled back to reality, you rush to the counter. placed in batches is piles upon piles of pleasant looking treats, all looking fresh from the oven.

“hi,” you begin. “uh - hi, yeah. i was looking on the internet earlier and saw you had a job going? i was just wondering if that’s - uh - still a thing?”

the boys face lights up. “you saw the advertisement? that’s a first!”

“yeah?”

“dad! dad, we’ve got someone here asking about the advertisement!”

startled, you step back. an older, black haired man rushes from a room in the back, wiping his fingers on a towel. he’s frowning, but the expression quickly morphs into one of glee when he sees you standing there.

“really?” he says. “well, isn’t that a damn miracle. i was starting to think i’d be in here for twelve hour days; my name’s robert, and this is my son, malachi.”

“y/n,” you reply. “so - uh - i’m guessing the job is still up for grabs?”

“it is indeed,” robert replies. “give me two minutes whilst i freshen up, and we can sit down and chat. sound good?”

your eyes widen. “really? do you not want to read my cv or anything?”

robert waves a dismissive hand. “i’ll learn more about you through actual conversation than i ever will through a piece of scrap paper.” he turns on his heel. “i’ll be out in two minutes!”

you are stunned. this really isn’t how you expected things to go, especially considering your bad luck these past few months.

the bakery goes silent. you stare into dead space, waiting for the moment it all comes crashing down; the building is going to suddenly set on fire, or robert is gonna pop his head round the door and say “sike!” and you’ll have to trudge back to the B&B and inform seokjin of your failures.

seokjin.

his name startles you back to reality. quickly, you grab your phone from your back pocket, pull up his number and send him a quick text.

hi. it’s y/n. might have a job. it’s at the bakery down the street. will keep you updated.

you debate signing your message off with a kiss, decide against it and stuff your phone back into your pocket. it’s only then do you notice malachi’s eyes trained on you; he leans over the counter, arms folded, the tiniest of smirk playing on his face.

he’s handsome in a weird way. he’s tall. he’s got messy black hair, and you’ve heard that’s what a lot of people are fawning over nowadays. it kind of reminds you of seokjin a little bit, though seokjin’s figure is a lot. . . kinder than this boys. seokjin’s lean and tall, muscles in just the right places. this boys hands look like they could choke you out in a matter of seconds.

his smile is pleasant, though. it brings a glint to his dark eyes. he hasn’t got any dimples on his chin.

one point for seokjin, you suppose.

you return his smile, suddenly a bit awkward beneath the scrutiny of his gaze. “so, robert’s your dad?”

“yep. known him my whole life.”

you laugh, because you’re pretty sure that’s a joke he’s just told. “it’s a nice place you’ve managed to run with him. very cosy. we don’t have places like this in Busan.”

malachi’s eyebrows raise. slowly, he straightens up. “you’re not from here?”

“afraid not. i moved here just yesterday, actually - kind of a spontaneous thing, but it’s been working for me so far.”

“all on your own?”

you pause. “well, not necessarily. my - uh - friend and i are here together.” yes. friend. you can call seokjin a friend. “he’s a chef.”

malachi hums like this is some kind of grand revelation. “a chef, eh? i heard they earn quite a bit of money.”

“oh, well, i don’t know. i don’t really ask him about his finances, if i’m honest.”

“and whereabouts are you two staying?”

“the B&B down the street.”

again, his eyebrows shoot up. “the lodge? that’s a pretty expensive place to stay.”

“we split the bill,” you say quickly, suddenly getting protective over seokjin; you’ve heard that tone in people’s voices before. malachi has probably made an entire sour opinion on seokjin purely because he’s been led to believe he’s rich.

“he works hard for his money,” you add, because you feel like you have to. “it exhausts him, poor guy, but he loves what he does.”

malachi stares at you. the pleasant grin from earlier has been wiped free from his face, replaced by a twist of his mouth. you look away, thankful to see robert bustling back, now wearing a clean white shirt free of apron and flour.

“sorry for keeping you,” he says. “let’s go out the back where it’s a little warmer. that weather today could kill!”

and so, shooting malachi one last smile, you follow his dad into the back. it is indeed very warm, the heat from the ovens immediately clinging to your skin. you shed your coat, throwing it over the back of your chair as robert takes a seat across from you and begins the interview.

it doesn’t last very long. robert doesn’t seem like the picky type, asking you about your family and where you’re from. he focuses very little on your level of experience, though you try your hardest to fit in all those stories of you growing up around bakers, just to give your reputation that little push.

he talks to you like you’re an old friend, laughing at your jokes, telling his own childhood stories. he’s a really easy guy to be around, making the interview feel more like a casual chat than an actual job interview.

finally, however, he claps his hands and says, “i think we have a winner!”

you blink. “wait, really?”

he reaches forward, grabs your hands and shakes them, both at the same time. “you’re a lovely person, y/n. i’d love nothing more than for you to be on our team.”

your heart thunders; that was so easy, too easy, but you’re not even going to ruin the moment by questioning it right now. instead, you grin and say, “i’d love that, thank you so much!”

----

when seokjin arrives back at the B&B, it is already dark out.

eleven pm, if the clock is to be trusted in this place. already, you’re sprawled across the double bed, television blasting, your phone held over your face. you’ve had a shower and tucked yourself into some pyjamas.

“you look comfortable.”

your head shoots up. “seokjin! did you get my text?”

he throws his coat from his shoulders, shaking the rain out of his dark hair. he looks exhausted, which makes you feel bad for having already taken up most of the bed, but you’re too excited to care too much.

“i got your first text,” he replies, tossing his gym bag on the bed. “did you end up getting that interview, then?”

“you bet i did!” you jump up, grinning from ear to ear. seokjin raises a brow, but chuckles when you throw your arms over his shoulders and say, “i got the job! i got the job! i got the job!”

he pulls away, holding you at arms length. his eyes are wide, that smile big across his face. “they gave you it then and there?”

“i make a wildly good first impression, seokjin, don’t you ever forget.”

he scoffs. “sorry. sometimes i forget considering the first time i saw you, you were bawling your eyes out in the middle of a train station.”

“literally no one asked you to remember that.” you pull him back in for a hug, squealing your excitement in his ear.

he laughs. his arms tighten around your waist, head nuzzled in the crook of your neck, and you might be imagining it, but you swear you can feel his joy, can hear it in his melodic laugh. he’s just as excited about this opportunity as you are, even though he has no reason to be.

you pull away, tipping back onto the mattress. “i start in two days time.”

“what are they gonna get you to do?”

“baking, i assume. working the tills. just. . . baker stuff.”

seokjin raises a brow, sitting down on the end of the bed. he smells like a kitchen. “do you actually know how to bake?”

“of course i know how to bake. i wouldn’t have gone for an interview at a bakery if i didn’t.”

“you never told me that.”

you pause. “sorry. i didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

seokjin shrugs, standing up again. he walks over to his luggage and tugs out another pair of pyjamas, this one adorned with little ducklings upon a blue background. “i just would have liked to know that, that’s all.”

you watch as he walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. seconds later, you hear water screeching out of the shower head, and you know then the conversation is over.

you aren’t really sure what to make of it.

he did seem a tad bit upset, but it’s difficult to tell with seokjin. you haven’t known him for very long at all, but within that short space of time, you’ve certainly been able to conclude that seokjin is more an optimist than a pessimist. he looks on the bright side of life, and even when he’s upset, he doesn’t really like to show it, like he’s afraid of spreading negativity.

it can’t be very healthy.

nonetheless, you were able to spot a few inconsistencies in his optimism during that conversation, and it makes you feel bad. you nuzzle beneath the covers and turn the television back on, wondering what on earth you did wrong.

----

work is hectic.

even though the bakery itself is never overly busy, there’s a lot to be done when it comes to hospitality. almost immediately you are put in charge of the tills, plus cleaning up when the mess gets too much. that means you spend your days darting back and forth between the front of the shop and the kitchen, trying to keep a healthy balance, but failing miserably.

malachi tells you it’s alright, that even he and robert struggle to stay on top of things, but it still puts you in a sour mood. you want to be good at this. it’s been a brilliant opportunity, and you’re not willing to spoil it just yet.

you’re on your second week of work when seokjin finally decides to pay a visit.

you know he got the day off, because you woke up this morning and nearly had a heart attack at the sight of him still fast asleep beside you; it left your stomach in knots, your heart stumbling in your chest. it’s not like he shouldn’t have been there - he’s fallen asleep beside you every night for the past two weeks. however, you’ve never actually seen him there. he’s always gone when you wake up.

but this morning, you rolled over and was greeted, startlingly, by the sight of his sleeping face.

his peaceful, adorable sleeping face.

now, however, he’s spritely and awake. with two cups of coffee in his hand, he waltzes up to the counter and says, “cosy place.”

you grin, taking one of the cups from him. “isn’t it?

he inspects the tiny bakery with a smile on his face, those dimples popping just shy of the corners of his mouth. “you never told me how cute it was in here; i would have visited much sooner.”

“with your busy schedule? absolutely not.”

seokjin rolls his eyes. “i would have made the time.”

you ignore how this comment makes you feel. you’ve gotten increasingly good at doing that these past few days.

you lean over the counter, taking tiny sips of your coffee. “so, what have you been doing with all your spare time?”

“nothing,” he replies, a little too quick. “absolutely nothing. i had a few emails from the people back in Busan to deal with, but besides that, i’ve been sat in the B&B, watching netflix.”

“sounds like a dream.”

he shakes his head, the tiniest pout forming. “it’s awful. i’m bored. i’ve never been bored in the B&B before; i think you’re having a negative effect on me.”

you shoot upright, jaw dropping open. “excuse me? you can’t blame me for the fact you have no hobbies!”

“who said i have no hobbies?”

“the fact that all you’ve done is watch netflix today kind of eludes to the fact that you have no hobbies.”

seokjin scowls. the expression is adorable on him, with those stray dimples making an appearance. you really have to stop staring at those, because it’s going to get obvious pretty soon.

“i have plenty of hobbies,” he grumbles. “in fact, i’ve been invited out for a few drinks tonight with my friends.”

you pause. of course seokjin has friends. you were never under any illusion that he didn’t, but he doesn’t really talk about them. being locked up in a B&B with him for two weeks straight has given you plenty of time to pick his brain, analyse the life he used to life, and not once has he made any attempt to bring up these so-called friends.

“oh,” you manage. “that sounds like it’ll be fun.”

he hums cockily, like he’s just proved you wrong.

“getting drunk isn’t a hobby unless you’re an alcoholic, by the way.”

his smile drops. “i can never win with you, can i?”

you shrug. “i’m just saying. why don’t you take up painting, or playing the guitar?”

“okay, okay, i didn’t come in here for a therapy session; how much are those eclairs?”

you giggle, but nonetheless, you duck down and pluck an eclair from the display cabinet. you place it in a bag and hand it over to him before saying, “don’t worry about it. i’ll slip some cash in the register at the end of the night.”

seokjin pauses. his hand is inches away from the bag you’re holding out to him, those perfect fingers twitching like he has to physically restrain himself from snatching it out of your hand.

you shake the bag to get his attention, but his eyes never leave your face. it’s kind of intimate if you let yourself think too much into it. “do you want the eclair or not? i made it.”

he snatches his hand back dramatically. “never mind then. you can keep it.”

you roll your eyes, grab his hand and place the bag in his palm. “don’t play the gentleman, seokjin; we’re all friends here. it doesn’t make you any less of a man to have someone buy you a fucking eclair.”

you know how selfless seokjin is. of all the little quirks he has put on display for you since you met him, his selflessness has been the one that stands out the most. you see him battle with it now, the way he hesitates, the way his free hand twitches towards the wallet tucked into his back pocket. you give him one final look before he sighs and nods.

“thank you.”

“now, tell me a bit about these plans you have for later.” you sip your coffee. “are these friends good people? do i need to be worried?”

seokjin scoffs. “they are great people - i’ve known them for years. we’re just going out for a few drinks, a bit of a catch-up. nothing to be worried about.”

“so i’ll have the B&B all to myself, will i?”

he raises a brow. “don’t say it like that. you’re worrying me.”

you roll your eyes, unable to fight the smile rising on your face. seokjin notices your amusement and shakes his head, because he knows you’re just winding him up. in all honesty, it makes you kind of glad seeing him go off and do his own thing. these past two weeks have really opened your eyes to just how much he works, and just how little time he has for himself. he deserves a bit of time with his friends.

he leaves shortly after, claiming he has errands to run. he tells you to call him when you get home, and you agree to do so before waving him goodbye, watching through the window as he turns the corner and disappears amongst the crowd of people.

a hand lands on your shoulder.

you jump back, startled. malachi laughs, holding his hands up in faux surrender; he’s a got a grin on his face, dimpleless, unlike seokjin, who has dimples just beneath the corners of his mouth, tiny little indents in his chin that you can never take your eyes off, because they’re so cute, and he gets so flustered when you point them out, and-

“was that the husband?”

you blink, certain you’ve heard him wrong. “what?”

malachi nods towards the window. he’s got flour on his face, and you absentmindedly reach out and brush it off. “was that seokjin, or whatever his name is?”

“did you just call him husband?”

now it’s malachi’s turn to blink. he raises a brow, flicking his gaze between you and the door seokjin has just fled from. “is he not. . . do you two not live together?”

“in a way,” you reply. “but we’re not married. he’s my friend, that’s all.”

malachi scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. “you had me fooled. ‘oh, call me when you get home!’ ‘have fun with your friends!’ ‘i’ll have the house all to myself!’ you certainly sound like an old married couple.”

you really can’t believe you’re hearing this.

it’s bizarre. utterly absurd. you and seokjin are definitely comfortable with each other at this point, but that doesn’t mean anything. he’s your friend - a good friend, your only friend in this new place.

plus, you don’t speak like an old married couple. that’s a stupid way to think. you two communicate like nothing more than two people who have been forced to sleep in the same bed for two weeks.

you shake your head. “i don’t even want to listen to this.”

“so you’re telling me i’m wrong?” malachi demands as you shove past him into the kitchen.

“yes, you are. that’s mental that you would even think that. i haven’t even known him that long-”

“again, you could have fooled me! the way you two look at each other, it’s like you share memories from years ago.”

you scowl, heat rising to your cheeks. “when the fuck did you become a poet?”

malachi only laughs. you want him to shut up, because this is out of order. this is making you more flustered than it has any right to, and you don’t want to get flustered when you’re working with hot ovens.

it’s not like he has any idea what he’s talking about. he’s seen the briefest glimpse of seokjin, certainly not enough to know how you two genuinely interact with each other. he hasn’t seen the bickering, the fights for the covers, seokjin huffing with you when you make him get up to turn the television off at the end of the night.

so why are you getting so worked up?

you push the question away as you get back to work, trying desperately to ignore malachi’s snickers every time he passes you; he knows what he’s done, of course, getting you all worked up like this, but you can’t help it. what if other people see you and seokjin like that? what if seokjin picks up on this assumption and decides to cut all ties with you, too afraid to be seen that close with someone like you?

maybe you’re panicking over nothing. seokjin is a nice guy - the best guy. he won’t just up and leave you because of what other people think.

but then again, you’ve only known him for two weeks, so who’s to say he won’t?

---

seokjin has already left when you arrive home later that evening.

it’s dark already, the winter showing it’s ugly head. little droplets of snow cling to your coat, your hair, your cheeks as you stumble through the door of your shared B&B, teeth gritted against the cold that has deemed your fingers and toes numb.

left upon the bedside table is a note, the unmistakeable scribble of seokjin’s handwriting informing you that he doesn’t know when he will be home, but he still expects you to give him a ring whenever you finish work. you read the note over and over, unexplainable joy flaring within your system with the knowledge that he was thinking of you before he left, that he still wants to make sure you got home safe.

you don’t call him.

the thing is, malachi’s words have grated against your skull worse than you thought they should. he spent the entire day teasing you about your ‘little crush’ on seokjin, clearly relishing in how it made you squirm. it made you think, too, which is the worst part. you’ve spent these past two weeks on complete autopilot, just trying to make a life for yourself now that you’ve got a clean slate. you never once stopped to think about something as simple as relationships, or feelings, but now that malachi has sprung such a topic to the forefront, you can’t deny that the only person you can associate with such topics is seokjin.

you can’t bring yourself to speak to him just yet. you’re too tired, and your body is sore, and you want nothing more than to crawl into bed and pretend today never happened.

so that’s exactly what you do. turning your phone on silent, you get in your pyjamas and snuggle beneath the covers, trying to ignore the empty space at the side of you.

----

you wake up to the sound of the door slamming.

your eyes snap open, heart jolting from your chest. for the briefest moment, you are entirely convinced you’re being robbed. any minute now, the barrel of a gun is going to be pointed at your face and you’ll have no choice but to give up all of your belongings, all of seokjin’s belongings, will probably be forced back to Busan because of your trauma, and-

“oh shit. are you sleeping?”

you bolt upright, tugging the quilt to your chin. standing in the doorway, seokjin looks tall, illuminated only by the hallway light outside. he’s wearing a fancy dress shirt and trousers, the top button undone to reveal sweat slicked collarbones, the sleeves rolled up to reveal perfectly muscled arms. his hair stands on end, and he’s got a pout on his face that reveals his drunkenness in all it’s glory.

your heartbeat slows.

“seokjin?”

he shakes his head, waving a dismissive hand. “no. no, sh. go back to sleep. i didn’t mean to wake you up.”

his words are slurred. he’s definitely drunk.

he stumbles towards the bed, using the bedside table to stay upright. he blinks drearily when his eyes meet yours; despite having just spoken to you, he’s looking at you now like he’s only just realised you’re actually in the room.

he clicks his fingers. “i had something i wanted to say to you.”

you blink. “o-okay. do you want water first? you look a little-”

“it was really important,” he continues. “i’m pretty sure i was mad at you.”

you swing your legs out of bed. “okay, you definitely need water.”

you scramble to the sink, grabbing a glass from the counter and filling it with ice cold water. seokjin slumps on the bed, running his nimble fingers through his hair, mumbling incoherent words to himself.

looking at the clock, you see it is two in the morning; he has work in five hours, and is clearly in no state to do a full day of work. you make a mental note to ring the restaurant and tell them he’s taken ill.

you turn, placing the glass on the bedside table. “did you have a good time?”

“no,” he replies. “worried. i was worried the entire night.”

you raise a brow, trying your hardest not to look at the skin showing through his shirt. “worried? about what?”

he gestures, encompassing the entire room.

“seokjin, i can look after the room on my own, you know,” you say.

“i wasn’t worried about the room.” he scowls, glaring at the carpet like it’s upset his ancestors. “i couldn’t care less about the room. it’s whats in the room that worried me.”

you blink. “you’re losing me, mate.”

he groans, tossing his head back. the sudden jolt tips his entire body. you jump forward and grab his arm, stabilising him before he cracks his skull on the floor.

“seokjin, jesus christ, take a sip of your water.”

he pushes your hand away. “not thirsty. just worried.”

“about what?”

“you didn’t call me when you got home from work!”

you falter. you remember his note, of course, but you had promptly fell asleep before you could do as he’d asked; you didn’t think it was that big of a deal. however, he’s sat in front of you now with a pout on his face, eyes glaring like you’ve done something massively wrong.

you swallow, trying to ignore the butterflies rushing through your stomach. “y-you were worried about me?”

“i asked you to call me when you got home from work, and i didn’t get a single call the entire night. i thought you’d been kidnapped or something. the only reason i didn’t come storming back here was because my friends wouldn’t let me leave.”

he’s lying. of course he is. he’s lying, and he’s drunk, and he’s going to regret ever pouring his heart out like this tomorrow morning.

you hollow out your cheeks, overcome with a sudden wave of exhaustion. you gently pat his cheek, making his eyes widen.

“what are you doing?” he asks.

“i’m putting you to bed,” you reply, and even to yourself, your voice sounds tired, fed up, a mere drawl in the darkness. “you’re not going to work tomorrow, but you need to sleep this alcohol off. come on.”

he scowls, glancing down at his attire; he’s still in his day clothes. “i can’t sleep in jeans.”

you stare at him. he stares back at you, making no move to remove the clothes he has such a grudge against right now.

you close your eyes, inhaling deeply. “fine then.” with that, you grab his belt and unbuckle it. a sharp gasp slips past his lips that you do a fine job of ignoring, even as it makes your cheeks heat up, forcing you to bite down on your tongue. you tell yourself on a loop that you’re just doing a favour for a friend, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them from his legs. the entire time, he stares at you with his mouth slightly open, tanned cheeks glowing red more from the alcohol than anything else. even in his drunken state, his gaze makes you weak. you’re not even making eye contact with him, instead choosing to keep your eyes firm on your trembling hands.

when at last his jeans have been tossed across the room and he is left in a pair of boxers, you shove him back onto the bed and say, “now go to sleep. i’m gonna go for a shower.”

seokjin rolls his head back. he sinks into the pillows, one side of his face completely engulfed by the fabric. “but it’s so late! what if you drown?”

you head for the bathroom, trying to calm your stampeding heart. “i won’t drown. stop worrying about me.”

“i always worry about you,” he grumbles. “you’re special to me.”

you pretend you haven’t heard him. it’s so much easier than dealing with those words, than letting them wriggle into your brain, because they will do nothing but torment you the rest of the night.

you slip into the shower, and it is there that you let yourself dissolve. you’re so tired, limbs heavy, heart still racing. not even the spray of hot water is enough to wake you up - the only thing keeping you on your feet right now is the memory of his drunken words, spoken slurred and rushed. he probably didn’t even mean them, but that doesn’t take from the fact he said them, and you heard them, and they’re going to complete destroy you if you keep thinking about them.

---

seokjin nudges your shoulder.

your eyes fly open, head jolting up. your neck cracks, making you yelp and fall back against the pillows - unfamiliar pillows, considering you fell asleep on the sofa the night before.

you groan, rubbing the back of your neck as you slowly rise into a sitting position. seokjin stands over you, eyebrows furrowed, mouth parted. he doesn’t say anything as you bring yourself back to reality, glancing around the room like you’ve never seen it before.

he takes a step back; he’s wearing a pair of sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, and he’s got a mug of fresh coffee in his hands.

you reach up and take the mug. “thanks.”

“it wasn’t yours, but okay.” he sits down beside you, placing your legs in his lap. “is there a reason you fell asleep on the sofa last night? it doesn’t look very comfortable.”

you blink, because for just a moment, you don’t think there is a reason. you’re ready to tell him nope, it was an accident, you just drifted off, haha, silly you!

but last night doesn’t take long crawling back to the forefront of your mind. his words, his silly grin, your fingers on his belt buckle-

you swallow the scalding drink and say, “i thought you might have liked the bed to yourself after your wild night out.” you nudge his arm. “how are you feeling today anyway? hungover?”

he rubs his temple, though he doesn’t seem to be in too much pain; by the looks of things, he’s had a shower, which means he probably went for one of his morning runs beforehand. “i’ve got a bit of a headache, but nothing major. i don’t even remember how i got home.”

oh, thank god.

“i took care of you, don’t worry.”

seokjin scoffs. “i can see that. did i at least take my own trousers off?”

you take another hasty sip of coffee. “yes, of course. i wouldn’t go near that area with a six foot pole.”

seokjin rolls his eyes before standing up. he stretches his arms over his head, revealing a tiny lick of skin just above the waistband of his sweats. you look away sharply, causing another painful snap to course down your neck.

you wince. “fucking hell.”

he looks over his shoulder. “what?”

“just my neck.”

he drops his hands to his sides, turning to face you. his eyes narrow as he watches you rub the back of your neck, twisting your head from side to side in any attempt to get rid of the burning sensation dancing along the top of your spine. finally, he sits back down, puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you away from him.

you falter. “uh, seokjin?”

“i learned this when i was in Daegu a few years back.” he digs his fingers into the base of your neck, and immediately a pressure is released. it’s a pressure you didn’t even realise was there.

it disintegrates beneath his fingers, only to be replaced by another pressure, completely unrelated to mere muscle pain. it settles in your stomach, makes you stiffen beneath his grip, and he must notice, because he chuckles, and it takes the form of a breeze blowing against the back of your neck.

you swallow. this really isn’t how you should be feeling right now. this entire situation should not be happening. seokjin is your friend. he’s that guy who saved you from a potential, second mental breakdown. he’s that guy you share a bed with completely out of inconvenience. he’s the guy you tease and eat dinner with.

he’s seokjin.

despite being fully aware of how out of place this entire experience is, you make no effort to shift away from him. in fact, almost against your will, you sink closer to him, your back hitting against his knees, and again, that gentle breeze tickles the back of your neck.

“good?” his voice is gruff, quiet.

“good.” your voice is high pitched, embarrassing.

seokjin chuckles again, a third time, before you feel his lips against your shoulder blade.

the sensation is wild. it’s such a simple touch, nothing more than a peck against your flesh, but it sends your brain into a spiral. you hate yourself for it, how such a simple action can destroy you in seconds.

and it’s destroying you, sending your brain into overdrive, but you want more of it. you desperately, desperately want more of it, and maybe that’s why you lean into his touch. maybe that’s why you let his hands slide around your waist. maybe that’s why you close your eyes, tilt your head back into the crook of his neck, let his plump lips explore your neck. you are in complete bliss, unable to even form words, fairly certain you’re losing yourself in-

the phone rings.

you jolt away from him, gasping as reality floods back into you. fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck, you can’t believe you just did that. you can’t believe you let yourself get lost like that.

you jump up from the sofa and rush for the phone, too scared to spare seokjin a glance. he isn’t saying anything, which can only be a bad sign, and quite frankly, you haven’t even got your head screwed on well enough to deal with that.

you grab the phone and pull it to your ear, all without looking at the caller id.

“hello?”

“y/n?”

you inhale sharply. “robert. fuck. i’m late, aren’t i?”

“are you well? it’s not like you to be late.”

you run a hand through your hair, glancing at the clock on your nightstand - you’re only late by fifteen minutes, but that doesn’t change anything. you got distracted. you should have been paying closer attention.

“i’m fine. sorry. so sorry. just - uh - slept in. i slept in. i’ll be there as soon as possible.”

robert replies. you’re certain of it, but you don’t pick up on what he’s said. you slam the phone back down and spin, finally looking at seokjin. he’s dazed, staring back at you with eyes blown wide and mouth slightly open, slightly swollen, damp from where his tongue has surely traced patterns over them since you stood up.

you swallow thickly. “i have to go to work.”

“y/n-”

“you don’t have to say anything.” you snatch your keys off the bedside table, along with your phone and a pen that you don’t even need, but you just want to grab more stuff, just want to feel the heavy weight of objects in your hands. “i get it, okay? that was weird. we were both lost in the moment. you don’t have to explain yourself.”

he opens his mouth to reply, but you’re on a roll with cutting people off before you can hear what they have to say. you dart out the door, yelling “see you later!” over your shoulder before the door slams closed behind you.

you waste no time. if you stop, you’re going to think, and the kinds of thoughts that will surely rush to the surface are not the kind you want to be dealing with right now.

you arrive at the bakery in ten minutes, feet aching from how harshly they were slamming against the pavement in the cold, wet rain. nonetheless, you don’t care. you genuinely don’t care, not when you pull your coat off and slip your apron over your head, immediately snatching the oven gloves out of malachi’s hands.

his head snaps up. that award winning grin flashes across his face when he says, “y/n! you made it!”

“what are we making?” you ask.

malachi’s smile slips. “uh. . . i mean, it’s not that busy. there’s no rush. if you wanna grab a coffee or something before you start-”

“i’ll make muffins.”

malachi blinks. you don’t humour him with a response, instead getting to work immediately. you can feel him watching you from across the kitchen, dark eyes burning holes into the back of your head. you just keep working, even though your hands are beginning to tremble, and you can still feel seokjin’s mouth on your bare skin. your heart is yet to recover, still beating erratically in your chest.

“y/n?” malachi mumbles. “are you sure everything’s alright?”

you remember his words from the previous day, how bizarre they sounded when you first heard them; it just didn’t make any sense at the time that anyone would think seokjin had feelings for you, that he looked at you as anything more than a friend. you had gone home entirely convinced that you and seokjin would remain friends, and that was all, whether you liked it or not.

but then he just has to go and do that, messing up every logical thought you once held.

you don’t even know if he likes you like that, or if it really was just a spur of the moment thing. he might have still had alcohol in his system. maybe he didn’t even know what he was doing.

malachi’s hand on your shoulder startles you. you yelp, hands twitching, warm pan crashing to the floor.

“woah!” malachi grabs you, dragging you back before you can burn yourself. “careful there, mate.”

you close your eyes. “fuck, i’m sorry. i didn’t-”

“are you gonna tell me what’s wrong with you today or are we just gonna keep having incidents like this?”

you meet his gaze; there is no malice in his words, no threat or disappointment. he’s worried about you.

you sigh, falling back against the counter. “just. . . seokjin things.”

malachi pauses. “seokjin? the husband?”

“he’s not my-”

“the guy you live with? the guy who was here yesterday?”

“that’s the one.”

malachi picks up the warm pan with a towel. “what has he done? he seemed like a nice bloke.”

“he’s an amazing bloke,” your quick to say, though the words make your cheeks heat up. “he really is amazing. he’s just also . . . very confusing.”

malachi raises a brow. “confusing how?”

“confusing. . .” you gesture vaguely, as if that in itself is a good enough adjective to describe just how confusing seokjin is.

malachi nods like he understands. he leans against the counter, shoulder brushing yours. for just a moment, it truly feels like there is nothing left to say; how do you comfort someone in a situation like this? how do you comfort anyone, let alone a person you’ve known for only a handful of days, someone you only know the bare bones about.

nonetheless, malachi’s silence is reassuring. it calms you down to a point where you can gently take the pan from his hand and set it on the counter, your breathing straying back to a normal rhythm.

“so,” he begins once you start gathering random ingredients. “correct me if i’m wrong, but i’m guessing seokjin did something that messed with your feelings a little bit?”

you bite your lip, and that is response enough.

“ah.” he pauses for another brief moment. “you weren’t uncomfortable with any of it, were you? ‘cause i’ll hang him up by his balls if he-”

“no!” the word is ripped from your throat, urgent. “no, malachi, it was nothing like that. seokjin would never do anything like that.”

“then what did he do?”

“he kissed me.” you pause. “kind of.”

malachi’s eyebrows rise. you watch the cogs turning his brain, probably trying to understand the riddle you have just presented him.

you hasten to clarify. “him and i have been purely friends from the moment we met. we live together just for convenience. he never showed signs of wanting to date anyone, let alone date me, and then this morning he just. . . got a little touchy, and it confused me, because i always just thought he didn’t want that kind of relationship with me.”

“sounds like an awful lot of information on what he wants rather than what you want.”

you frown. “what i want doesn’t matter.”

malachi stares at you. you stare back, because you don’t want to think about what you want. you don’t want to dig into that dark crevice of your mind until everything else is sorted; you have to get your own life together before you can start thinking about sharing that life with someone else.

especially someone like seokjin.

someone who is perfect. someone who seems to have everything under control. he’s only young, not even thirty, and yet he’s travelling korea, cooking in top class restaurants, going out with friends who love him. he’s essentially living the dream.

you’re just the person who intruded on that dream-like life, stumbling through your own life tragically.

you look away as the thought strikes you; again, you can’t focus on that kind of thing. it’s scary. it’s uncharted territory, and you won’t let yourself be engulfed by it.

---

when you arrive home, seokjin is cooking dinner.

“ooh, something smells good!” you exclaim, trying to ignore the frantic thump of your heart.

seokjin glances over his shoulder; his cheeks are burning red, an apron placed over his pyjamas. his hair is ruffled, and you know for a fact he’s only just now getting out of bed. he probably spent the entire day watching tv, and honestly, you envy him for it. your feet are aching for the long hours you put in at the bakery, and you want nothing more than to curl up and turn on some eastenders.

“you’re home!” he replies.

“i’m home.” you shake your coat off and approach. “what are you making?”

“spaghetti bolognese. something simple.”

“i never took you as the type to do anything simple.”

he grins, shooting you a wink. you hide your smile with an eye roll and grab some bowls from the cupboards, setting them down beside his work station before getting to work on grating the cheese; you know seokjin loves to smother his spaghetti in cheese. you’ve teased him about it on countless occasions.

“so, how was work?” he asks, scooping the pasta into two bowls.

“quiet,” you reply. “malachi and i did some inventory for the ingredients, and robert was gone half the day for a business meeting.”

“must have been pretty stressful.”

you shrug, nodding a thanks as seokjin passes you your dinner. “it was nice. there weren’t too many customers in, so it was pretty chill.”

seokjin sits down beside you, shoulder brushing yours.

you frown, glancing at his bowl. “how come you got more pasta than me?”

“i cooked it.” he twirls some pasta onto his fork and shoves it in his mouth. “therefore, i get the majority of it.”

“i was at work all day, starved to near insanity-”

“bit dramatic.”

“let me have some!”

before seokjin can move, you dig your fork into his bowl, scoop some pasta up and slap it back into your own. seokjin’s eyes widen, splutters slipping past his lips. you simply grin, popping a forkful into your mouth.

“you know,” he begins, voice low, “i would have given you some if you’d given me the chance.”

“that’s alright. i’ve got it now.”

seokjin scowls, slumping back against the sofa. he stares at the side of your head for what feels like forever, and you feel every goosebump his gaze induces.

he hasn’t brought up what happened that morning, which doesn’t make you feel too good. you spent the entire day reliving the scene in your head, feeling the echo of his lips against your shoulder blade, and he’s sat beside you now, pretending nothing even happened. does he do that with lots of people? is he just a natural flirt and you never even picked up on it?

because, at the end of the day, you really don’t know seokjin all that well. you’ve grown fond of his personality and him as a person, but how much does that tell you about a person? not an awful lot, that’s for sure.

you squirm a little, unable to hide your mild discomfort; there’s a tension pressing between you both, but you don’t know if he feels it, too. when you glance over your shoulder, he’s just lounging, that stupid smile on his face, staring at you like he knows how flustered you are and siphons nothing but joy from it.

you’re going to explode. any minute now, your body is going to go up in flames. you need to say something. you need to do something.

so you turn, open your mouth and-

his lips are on yours in seconds.

how he moved so fast, you are unsure, but the question doesn’t even matter as you melt into his grip entirely against your will. his lips mould against yours, so perfect, made for each other, but there is a voice in the back of your head screaming that this is wrong, that this is an entire friendship on the line, and are you really ready to destroy that for the sake of a passing fancy?

you let yourself kiss him back for a few more seconds. you just want to savour it. you just want to run your fingers through his hair a few more times before finally pulling yourself together.

you jerk back a little too hastily. he gasps at the sudden loss of contact, eyes wide, one hand still hovering in the air where he once cradled your face.

you swallow, standing up. you run your hands down the front of your jeans, shaking your head, trying not to make a scene, but all the emotions you felt this morning are coming back, and you’re just confused again. confused, and agitated, and you want nothing more than to ravish him, but at what cost?

he looks up at you. “y/n?”

it’s just your name, but it shatters you. it’s always sounded so good coming from his lips. it’s always sounded so natural.

“i’m sorry,” you choke out. “uh - i just - i don’t think-”

seokjin stands up. “don’t apologise. i’m sorry - i shouldn’t have just assumed-”

“i really like you, seokjin, but-”

“but not like that. don’t worry, i get it. i completely understand.” he rubs the back of your neck, cheeks glowing bright red. “we can just forget anything ever happened.”

your stomach curls; you don’t want to do that. you won’t be able to do that, but you humour him with a curt little nod. he smiles warily, hesitates just a bit before slumping down on the sofa and grabbing his spaghetti again. he doesn’t ask you to sit with him. he doesn’t ask you if you’re alright. he just turns the tv on and carries on eating, not giving you a second glance when you awkwardly walk right past the sofa and get into bed.

----

the days are awkward.

awkward, and borderline unbearable, to put it simply.

you go to work. so does seokjin. you both come home, eat dinner, and then go to bed, but neither of you know what to say or do in between those crucial moments.

seokjin doesn’t even joke around with you like he used to. he just laughs at your own pitiful attempts to lighten the mood before asking you what you want for dinner. once you respond, he uses it as an excuse to ignore you for the rest of the night as he goes off and makes it.

it really is ripping you apart. he was your friend, but he was also your crush.

yes, your crush. like some stupid high school drama. every time you saw him, your heart fluttered and you would go to sleep to thoughts of his arms around you, even if such a scenario once seemed so out of the equation.

and he likes you back. you know that. he kissed you, for crying out loud! nonetheless, there’s that voice in the back of your head reminding you that he is so much better than you, that he has his life together entirely whilst you don’t even have an outline of where you want yours to go.

two people so different in nature would never last long together, and that would leave you with not a trace of seokjin in your life. you didn’t want that.

but it’s kind of what you’ve been given anyway.

nowadays, you don’t even say goodbye to him when you leave for work, even if he’s awake. you just tug on your uniform and start walking, locking the door behind you because he has his own set of keys and he can unlock it whenever he wants.

you’re miserable at work, too, which doesn’t make you a blast to be around, a fact that malachi points out on a daily basis. every time he sees you, he rolls his eyes and tells you to cheer up, but you’ve gotten to the point where you just don’t care any more - you’re gonna bring the mood down, and that’s all there is to it. you’re not going to try and fix it until you’ve fixed yourself.

which is taking an awfully long time when you’re constantly surrounded by the problem.

it’s been a week and a half now. you walk home, sluggish and anxious, but stupidly excited to see seokjin nonetheless. that’s how this always goes. that’s why it’s so fucking confusing.

you unlock the door, step inside, and immediately your heart drops into your stomach.

seokjin looks up from his suitcase and gives you the weariest smile you have ever seen him wear. it’s crooked, the dimples not even appearing. it’s fake.

you pause in the doorway, fingers tightening on the door knob. “what are you doing?”

he looks back down at the pile of clothes - his clothes - he has stacked upon the bed. he bites his lower lip, takes a moment to respond, and your heart is going to burst.

“seokjin...” you step into the room, wincing at the door closing behind you. “what are you doing? why have you got all your stuff out?”

“i’ll keep paying the room. it’s the least i can do.”

you drop your bag to the floor. “fuck off. no way. you’re joking.”

“y/n-”

you stumble back as he stumbles forward. your back hits against the door, and he pauses like he’s just realised he’s scaring a timid animal.

“fuck off.” you shake your head, swiping your hand beneath your eyes; there are tears. already. great. “are you serious? you couldn’t have told me?”

seokjin rubs the back of his neck. “things haven’t been right since-”

“i know that! i know they haven’t, but god, what fucking age are you?” you’re yelling now, unsure where all this anger has come from. “we’re grown adults, seokjin! so what you kissed me? that doesn’t mean we can’t sit down and talk about you literally moving out!”

“this was never a permanent place for me anyway, and you knew that!” he exclaims. veins protrude from his neck. he looks so attractive, it’s almost dizzying. “it’s a fucking B&B, y/n!”

“that’s so far from the point,” you growl. “the point is, you’re moving out, leaving me on my own, and you didn’t even bother to tell me!”

“what would it have done?”

“it would have stopped us from having this argument!”

seokjin scoffs. “you having a bit of sense would have stopped us from having this fucking argument!”

you shake your head, raising a trembling hand. “nah, you know what, fuck you. all you are is a selfish little twat who only thinks about himself. so leave. go off somewhere, cook your fancy fucking meals, and don’t bother paying another penny towards this room because i’ve got it handled. i’m not that little bitch sobbing on the subway any more.”

“no. instead you’re that little bitch yelling at me for no reason-”

“are you serious?”

“you know what, i didn’t want to leave here angry. i’ve had some fantastic times in this room, but you just make it so difficult. you drive me insane sometimes!”

you laugh bitterly, head thrown back and eyes wild. “do i? do i really, seokjin? so why the hell did you kiss me?”

and something inside him snaps. you can see it in the flames that rise in his expression, in the way his knuckles immediately glow white with the grip he now has on forearm.

“because i’ve never met anyone who can do that to me, ever, and it was the hottest fucking thing in the world.”

not exactly romantic, but you freeze nonetheless.

seokjin tilts his head. “is that what you wanted to hear? do you want me to go into detail about how sleeping beside you without touching you was the hardest fucking thing for me? do you want me to go into detail about how i wanted to rip malachi’s head off when he made you laugh that one time at the bakery? do you want me to go into detail about how leaving is the only thing that is going to keep me sane, because if i’m around you for another minute with you hating me, i’m going to die.”

you blink. you blink, and blink, and you stare at him, waiting for the punchline. all he does is pant, shoulders rising and falling, cheeks flushed red. he can’t even look at you. instead, he turns on his heel and marches back to his suitcase, grabbing another pile of clothes and stuffing it haphazardly on top of the others.

“there,” he grumbles. “just rip the fucking confession out of me, will you? god, calling me selfish. if you want me to stay here when i’m being driven mental, that makes you selfish. i offered to keep paying for the house-”

“seokjin.”

“i wouldn’t just leave you with nothing. i’m not a dick. but if you really think that, then-”

shit.

you rush forward before he can sink further into that theory.

you grab his arms, pulling him round to face you, and with one hand clipped to the back of his head, you drag him down and kiss him.

it’s not practised. you certainly didn’t come home tonight thinking you would be kissing seokjin by the end of it, but you make the most of your spontaneity.

he stumbles a little bit, clearly taken off guard, but he catches himself soon enough and grabs your waist, pulling you closer. your hips clash against his. your hands ruffle his hair. his tongue bashes against yours because this kiss is more than just a declaration of. . . of whatever it is you’re feeling. this kiss is sloppy, and ravenous, and frustration all pulled into one, and it shows. it really, really shows as seokjin spins and pushes you back onto the bed, just managing to dodge his neat piles of clothes.

you shove one off the bed and drag him on top of you.

he groans, kissing your neck. “it took me an hour to fold those.”

“they’re gonna get messy anyway.”

his eyes sparkle. “oh?”

you pull him back down, determined to lose yourself in the feel of him against you, the feel of his surprisingly strong arms circling your waist. you forget everything. you let yourself forget everything, instead savouring this moment in all it’s entirety. it’s easily done when seokjin sprinkles fire across your neck, your stomach, your thighs. it’s easily done when he lets you do the same thing, touching him in places you once thought you would never touch.

you wonder, as his lips find your own, how you ever thought this would be anything less than perfect.

----

you wake up the next morning, knowing you don’t have to go to work, feeling more refreshed than you have in weeks.

you stretch, fingers snatching at the covers in search of seokjin. when they reach no conclusion, you peek open one eye and glance across the room, not surprised to see him standing in front of the mirror, fingers trailing through the hair your own fingers had attacked the previous night.

you slump back against the pillows. “can you not call in sick?”

his eyes snap up. he grins, those dimples popping just beneath the corners of his mouth. “afraid not. i didn’t know you were awake.”

“i wasn’t until approximately two seconds ago.”

he turns and walks towards the bed. kneeling on his side - and it has unconsciously become his side - he bends down and presses a kiss to your forehead; you wrinkle your nose, very aware of the sweat you didn’t wash off yourself last night, very aware of the fact you haven’t brushed your teeth or your hair, or made any effort at all.

nonetheless, seokjin grins at you. “who would have thought you would look so beautiful after we fucked.”

you gasp, shoving him away.

he chuckles, going back to fixing his hair in the mirror.

but now that he brings it up, memories of the previous night rise to the surface; you remember most of it very well, because it was the best you’ve felt in a very, very long time. it was pleasure and relief and happiness all rolled into one, and you never wanted it to end.

but then there was the moments before that, when you had both spoken words neither of you meant.

at least, you didn’t mean what you said.

seokjin must notice your sudden demeanour shift, as he glances over and says, “it’s water under the bridge.”

you sit up, tugging the quilt around your bare chest. “we should talk about it.”

“and say what?”

“and apologise.”

he turns. “i’m sorry. you know i am. i didn’t mean a single thing i said.”

“either did i.”

“good.” he turns back to the mirror. “that’s that sorted then. we can go back to being madly infatuated with each other.”

you purse your lips; maybe he is a little bit upset. in all honesty, you wouldn’t be surprised; you said some pretty hurtful things in the moment, things you will regret for the rest of your life. even though seokjin knows - he must know - that you didn’t mean any of it, that doesn’t mean it won’t plague his mind for the next little while.

you rise from the bed, forgetting the quilt - it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, of course. he watches your movements through the mirror, his lower lip slowly - sexily - disappearing behind his teeth.

you wrap your arms around his middle, pressing your bare chest into his back. you listen to his breaths, slow and trained, like he’s trying to keep himself calm. part of you wants him to just lose control, to just spin around and take you into his arms, to forget about work and everything else.

but he’s seokjin. he’s got his life together. he won’t do that.

you press a kiss to the back of his neck and whisper, “i really am sorry. you’re the most amazing man i’ve ever met. the most selfless, amazing man in the world.”

he closes his eyes, tilting his head back. “t-thank you.”

“and i can’t wait for you to finish work so i can show you just how much i appreciate you.”

he groans, low in his throat. “i have to go to work.”

you nuzzle your head between his shoulder blades. “i never said you didn’t.”

he pulls away, spins around and kisses you. deeply, feverishly, like he’s never going to return and this is the last time he will ever get to hold you like this. you melt against him, giggling against his mouth as his hands cup your face and he pants against you.

finally, he pulls away and shakes his head. his eyes are wide, blown out when he points at you and says, “we’re not finished yet, understand? i’ll be back in, like, eight hours.”

you lay back on the bed, all naked flesh on show. “and i’ll be right here waiting for you.”

47 notes · View notes

novantinuum · 4 years ago

Link

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences (I have upped the rating in consideration of sensitive topics I aim to depict later on.)

Words: 6.4K~

Summary: In another world, he doesn’t have his mother’s sword or shield to hide behind when Bismuth lands her strike. The bubble pops.

Steven falls apart.

Chapter summary: In which history is written on the walls.

Some of my other fics have been showing up in the tags when I use the link post option, so I’m doing an experiment this time. Fingers crossed it shows! If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

____

Chapter 12: Beta, Part 3

Having long since heeded Ruby’s advice to take a mental break, Steven sits criss-cross with his back pressed against the hodgepodge aquarium. If you ask him, this position is a two-in-one miracle, allowing him both an unobstructed view of the doorway, and sparing him from the deep rooted horror of the creepy dismantled plush still floating an aimless arc through the tank. He loves Peridot to death, but good golly, this latest meep morp is deeply unsettling. He shudders at the mere thought of its water-logged stuffing oozing out from the seams, and then— inhaling deep through his nose— steers his focus back to the phone clasped tightly between his fidgety fingers.

Back to the story, you doofus.

With nothing better to do for the moment and a hyperactive mind to satiate, he’s finally started to read the Unfamiliar Familiar fanfic that Connie sent him a link to a few days before. True to her words, it’s super, super good. Well written, great characterization, and best of all, the author keeps throwing in hints of future romance between Lisa and Archimicarus! Considering that, he’s almost surprised Connie likes this fic so much. She’s normally not much of a shipper. To be fair though, romance definitely isn’t the point of the story. Instead, it’s an AU focused on the mystery of the main character’s origins.

He can’t help but let out a sympathetic sigh as— in chapter 5– Lisa tries to calmly explain to her fellow Stonehearth Coven members that somehow her father, the revered founder of the coven, used to be a prince of the wicked Arcane Court. Most of her once-close friends don’t swallow the news well. As a result, Lisa is left alone to seek the truth of her father’s past, with no allies except her trusted familiar at her side. Lip quivering, he presses his thumb solid against his phone’s screen for a while, as if yearning to reach a healing hand beyond the barrier between fiction and reality and let the young witch know she’s not alone, that he sees and supports her. He makes a mental note to thank Connie profusely for sending along this really good fic, and presses on to the next chapter.

He’s halfway to the end of it when Peridot returns.

For someone who appeared super frazzled by Lapis’s terror-struck outbursts the last time she stood at his side, she sure seems fit as a fiddle now, walking with a slight bounce in her step as she crosses past the fence line and onto the property. At least, he assumes she is. He can’t help but immediately doubt this assessment when she spots him sitting against the inner wall of the barn with that piercing focus of hers and bounds through the doorway like a Gem fleeing the apocalypse.

“Steven, Steven, Steven, Steven!” she cries as she runs to his side, flapping her arms urgently.

Practically tossing his phone to the ground to free his hands for combat, he leaps to his feet so fast that his head grows woozy. His rose-thorned shield shimmers into tangible existence in front of his barred fist.

“What, what is it?” he exclaims, the pounding of his heart devolving into an untamable cacophony as all his darkest fears rear their ugly heads at once. “Is- is it Lapis? Did she leave anyways?”

“Uh, no…?”

“Or, or, or- are we under attack?!”

“Steven, I—“

“Who’s here for me this time?” he blurts, grabbing his friend’s shoulders. “Is it Homeworld? Jasper? The Diamonds? Tell meeee!” he whines, roughly shaking her.

“I- No one? It’s no one!” Peridot exclaims when her head finally stops jostling back and forth under his force, waves of confusion coloring her expression. “I’m… just happy to be back?”

His cheeks burn red as he drinks in her obvious statement and eventually catches his breath. He lets go of her. “O-oh,” he stammers, willing the shield floating before him to disappear into glimmers of light and desperately wishing he could do the same at this precise moment of existence. “Okay. Glad to see you back! Did, uh… did you find Lapis?”

She nods in confirmation, but visibly deflates a little at the reminder of her roommate. “Yeah, she’s perched in a tree in the woods. She said she wanted some ‘alone time,’” she emphasizes with air quotes.

Steven clasps his fingers together in front of him as he lets this news sink in, digits tussling without end for the most comfortable alignment. Bleeding heart that he is, he hates the idea of letting anyone be alone, especially after a revelation this jarring, but he must admit that he himself found some comfort in solitude the night his human half took for the beach, inert diamond in hand. If anything else, it was nice to retreat from all the noise, to allow himself the opportunity to form his own opinions about the situation. Perhaps it’ll be beneficial for her, too.

“That’s understandable,” he says, glancing out the barn door towards the forest his friend is taking refuge in. “She’s been through a lot.”

He squats to pick up his phone from the floorboards then, frowning as he notices a fresh crack on the glass at the corner of the screen. Knowing that— despite his desperate desires— there’s nothing he can do to fix this right now, he shoves it in his pocket and pushes against his knees to stand up. The bottom of his shirt catches on his arm as he does so, briefly exposing the unfamiliar facets of his rotated gem. Peridot’s brows nearly shoot above the upper rim of her visor.

“So,” she begins, nodding towards his stomach. “Your gem.”

With a tired sigh, he tugs his shirt back down. Boy, does he already know where this conversation is heading, and boy, is he sick of having to walk everyone through it. “Yup,” he replies, popping the ‘p’ and getting ready to deploy the exasperated eye roll.

“All this time everyone thought you were a hybrid quartz, but now you’re telling me…”

“...that I’m actually a dia—“

“...that I, Peridot, certified Kindergartener, a skilled specialist on every variety of Gem to ever exist, was wrong??”

“Hold on, what?”

She holds her hand over the diamond emblazoned on her chest as she passionately continues, wholly oblivious to Steven’s bemusement. “I was the brightest Gem of my cut back on Homeworld, and yet somehow I mistook a perfectly formed diamond for a quartz! Ah, hahahah!” Eyes glinting with what he can only describe as a borderline feral energy, she moves to clutch at the sides of her head, thick tufts of lemon yellow spilling out from between her fingers. “Oh, my stars. I’ve lost my touch!”

“Wait, who’s out of touch?” Ruby’s curious voice chimes from nearby. Overjoyed to see her again, Steven whirls to face her with a huge grin as she enters the barn and lounges against one of the support beams, propping a hand on her hip.

“I- it’s nothing important,” Peridot mutters, flushing as she smooths her hair back into place.

Immediately making note of the hint of shame dancing across her features, he nods. “Yeah, we were just chit-chatting! Hey, how’s Amethyst doing, though? You went to talk to her, right?”

Ruby huffs in frustration at the mention of the quartz Gem, grinding her boots against the floor so hard that for a second he’s genuinely concerned she might spark a fire under her very feet. “Tried to. But then she slashed her whip towards me and said I couldn’t help her, so ‘go away!’” she exclaims, throwing her arms in the air. “Can you believe it? I’m trying to provide some love and support, and she, she just- tells me to scram!”

“Aw, that’s not very nice,” he says with a frown, feeling his heart pulse in sympathy as she begins to pace back and forth across the wooden slats, grumbling under her breath.

“What’s her problem today, anyways?” Peridot asks, crossing her arms. “She’s usually much more amicable.”

Steven nibbles at the inside of his lip as he considers the concerning downward trajectory of Amethyst’s recent behavior. Sure, she can sometimes get snippy when she’s in a bad place, but this past week her outward attitude has built into a continuous problem. He himself has been on the receiving end of her acerbic words more than a few times, such as that afternoon they goaded each other into a duel at the Sky Arena, and that barbed retort she pierced him with at the fountain. Then there’s her fight with Pearl, her resulting emotional seclusion, today’s callous treatment of Peridot, Lapis, Ruby…

He desperately wishes he could pin all the blame for this on a single person, a single event, (because oh, wouldn’t that make his life so much easier), but when he tracks the evidence of her unrest it becomes blindingly clear that her problems began long before Rose’s betrayal was revealed.

“Well, beyond all the, uh… latest stuff, she’s been super insecure about Jasper,” he offers. Rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet with his flip flops rhythmically clapping against his heels, he rummages his brain for the easiest way to explain the root of the situation. “Basically, Jasper took Amethyst out in a fight a week ago, and ever since that she’s been training super hard a whole lot. I think she’s desperate for a rematch, to prove she’s good enough.”

“Wait, wait, wait—“ The green Gem holds her hands out, palms open. “You’re telling me she’s got an inferiority complex about Jasper? With where she came from?” She lets out a raucous peel of laughter, holding her sides. “Oh Amethyst! That’s ridiculous! She was made way better than that clod.”

He squints at her inquisitively, crossing his arms as he tries to make sense of the interesting new conversation thread that just flowed out of her mouth. “But what do you mean, where she came from? Isn’t she from Homeworld, like you?”

Ruby freezes in place upon hearing this question, clear worry threaded through her creased browline. Her mouth bobs open as if she’s gearing up to answer his question, but amidst her hesitation— a timidness that, the more he thinks about it, is bizarrely out of place from the bold, confident Gem Steven’s gotten to know from all the other times Garnet’s unfused— Peridot beats her to the charge.

“Pfft, are you kidding? She emerged right here from Earth, and not even from its good kindergarten!”

He slams his hands against his cheeks, internally reeling from this revelation. “There’s other kindergartens?”

“Well, sure! There was supposed to be one in every facet. Until the rebellion put a swift end to the Diamonds’ colonization efforts, that is,” she adds quickly, adjusting her visor. “There’s Amethyst’s Prime Kindergarten in Facet Five, but there’s also the Beta Kindergarten in Facet Nine. And that piece of work is where Jasper was made… poorly!” Giggling in excitement, she rapidly shuffles her feet beneath her. The glimmer of light reflected in her eyes is bright enough to rival a distant star. “You guys have to see it!”

Steven balls up his hand at his chin, deliberating. He has to admit, after the recent emotional upheaval that he now can’t help but associate with this place, he really likes the idea of spending time somewhere other than the barn.

“Huh. Might be worth asking if she wants to check it out,” he says with a shrug. “Ruby, you in?”

The Gem in question nibbles at the corner of her lip, humming low under her breath as she considers his offer. A small bead of sweat hangs above her brow. Sporting a good natured grin, he nudges her in the side with his elbow, hoping he can cheer her up a bit.

“A little more time with your favorite Steven and Peri? Eh? Come on, you know you wanna!”

“Do it, do it!” Peridot chimes in, pumping her fists up and down.

He eagerly joins in with her rallying cry, and in no time at all they’re both circling around their friend chanting those very words. Ruby stands center with her arms crossed and her back erect, desperately trying not to break her stoic facade with a smile. It’s ultimately futile, of course. After all, no one can resist the good ol’ Universe charm forever!

“All right, fine, fine, I’ll come,” she finally acquiesces, and with a smirk, plants both her hands on her hips. “After all, someone’s gotta keep an eye on all you trouble makers!”

Now that Ruby’s officially on board, the trio ventures outside to find Amethyst, Steven and Peridot giggling as they begin to skip around the perimeter of the barn side by side, arms linked together. Brushing a few flyaway curls out of his face amidst the comforting breeze, he glances over his shoulder when they reach the first corner to make sure they’re not leaving their friend in the dust. And thankfully she’s right on their tail, but he can’t help but notice her enthusiasm seems muted. He presses his lips together in concern. Does she not want to go with them? Is he only forcing her into this? His stomach twists with guilt as he ponders this quandary further. It’s not his intention to be pushy, but maybe— between coercing Amethyst to take a break and accompany him to the barn, begging Lapis to stay, and now, nudging Ruby to come to the Kindergarten— he’s only being selfish and manipulative about all this. He thought he was bringing people together, but what if he’s wrong? What if he’s only straining relationships, tainting the already tense atmosphere, making everything worse?

(What if this is the same sort of excuse his mom Rose used to make?)

With Amethyst slashing her whip at a few old rusted cans in the clearing before them, however, there’s no time to waste drowning within what-ifs. It’s like that day he learned about Garnet’s future vision for the first time: if he lets himself get tangled up in the possibilities he’ll never truly live. He sighs under his breath, lips pursed. Of course. Garnet’s right even when she isn’t here. As much as he’d love to go crazy psychoanalyzing the impact of every solitary step he makes, at this point he’s made his choices and whatever happens, happens. It’s time to live now.

Initially, the purple Gem is rather indignant at the idea that the three of them were gossiping about her behind her back— eyes clouded with hurt— but once Peridot explains that the point of their proposed Kindergarten field trip is to check out Jasper’s no-doubt lame hole, she blinks away her bitterness and seems to eagerly climb aboard.

“Sure, why not? ‘S not like there’s anything more fun than roasting your enemies.”

“I strongly agree,” Peridot says, nodding with pride.

But before the newly expanded Shorty Squad can begin their journey, there’s something Steven really needs to address. Something that’s been troubling him all day. Nervous butterflies filling his stomach, he leans up close to his sibling-in-crime and whispers so the others don’t hear:

“Amethyst, can I talk to you for a bit before we leave?”

Her expression curdles, but thankfully, unlike in Ruby’s unfortunate account, she doesn’t make a move towards her whip to push him away. Instead, she meets him with a gaze so hardened and difficult to read that his eyes can’t help but drift away, perhaps a little intimidated by the intensity of this contact.

“Yeah, I guess,” she mutters eventually. She flicks her wrist up at the other two, gesturing for them to get a move on. “Go on ahead. We’ll catch up.”

Ruby and Peridot nod, the red Gem with a good deal more sympathy drawn on her face, (but for him or Amethyst?), and promptly set off towards the warp pad. He continues to watch until they disappear beyond the curve of the grassy hillside, both conversing comfortably. The last he hears before the warp shoots its cyan stream of light into the sky is a hooting laugh from Ruby. Despite how non-ideal this visit has been so far, he can’t help the smile stretching across his cheeks, or how his chest grows all warm and fuzzy. It’s really nice to see Peridot getting along so well with the others now. She’s made such huge strides in the past few months.

Something metallic clangs behind him. Flinching, Steven whirls around. A crumpled, abused soda can lays overturned by the side of the barn. Amethyst— arms crossed tight just under her gem and her hair more spiked and untamed than usual— glares at that poor hunk of tin as if it’s solely to blame for all of this galaxy’s problems. She moves to lean against the barn’s outer wall and peers at him expectantly, like a troubled child expecting judgement from a parental figure.

“So. You wanted to talk,” she says, tone clipped.

“I… wanted to be honest,” he mutters, threading his fingers together as he grasps for how best to word this. “Amethyst… I know you’ve been going through some hard stuff lately. I know everything that’s happened in the past few days doesn’t help. But you’ve been so inconsiderate of like, everyone here.” He swings his arm in a wide gesture towards the barn. “Peridot and Lapis didn’t deserve the way you treated them earlier.”

No response.

Steven frowns, and— a glimmer of quiet frustration bubbling deep within him, the sort he’d never admit to out loud but can’t help but harbor whenever he catches wind of small injustices that he can never seem to fix— scratches an burgeoning itch at the nape of his neck. He… oh stars, he’s going about this completely wrong, isn’t he? He’s being too confrontational. Hmm. Maybe he should try a new angle. Time for take two.

“I know you only acted that way because you’re hurting and don’t wanna think about it,” he continues, “but please, you don’t have to box your emotions away like that. I wanna help. I wanna listen.”

Slowly, gently, he moves to place a hand on her shoulder. It feels like a small victory when she doesn’t shift upon his touch.

“Believe me, you’re not alone in feeling this way.”

Again, nothing. She’s not even looking at him right now, and her jaw’s locked. Even her form feels tense under his fingers, with hard light pulsing back and forth under her illusory skin at an alarmingly unusual pace.

He sighs, gaze dropping towards the ground, towards the battered can she kicked aside earlier. “I’m worried, y’know? But... I understand if you’re not ready to talk… about Jasper, and—“

“Oh, hoh! That’s rich!” she explodes suddenly, jerking her arm away. “You seriously wanna bury your head in the sand and pretend this is just about Jasper?”

He tiptoes away from her rush of anger, eyes growing puffy. “I—“

“You wanna know how I feel, Steven? About your mom, and the whole awful mess she made? Do you really? ‘Cause I don’t have a single CLUE what I should feel anymore!”

Amethyst pauses for breath amidst her tirade, briefly locking sight with him with a glimmer of hurt reflected in her violet irises, showing that deep underneath all those twisted layers of anger and resentment she’s just another scared, abandoned Gem like him.

“Rose was everything to me, okay?” she says, throwing her palms wide for emphasis. “And all this time, I thought she was the one Crystal Gem who could be real with me. The only one who wouldn’t sugarcoat things or treat me like a baby. ‘Oh, you’re perfect the way you are, Amethyst!’” she coos in a fake, silky-sweet voice, cupping her cheeks as she openly mocks the very Gem who gave her life so he could exist. “You’re such a strong little quartz, you mean so much to me!’ Hah!”

She pauses to force a bitter laugh, clenching her hands into insufferably tight fists.

“And wasn’t that just a huge load of silt,” she spits, staring off into the rosy distance as if it were but a cruel mirage, the pain more than evident in the taut features of her face. “All along I thought she was this great, faultless person, just like you did. Except she wasn’t. She’s a liar, like everyone else. I’m worthless, just like Jasper said… and Rose knew it.”

Hesitantly, compassionately— heart breaking for the internal struggle she’s caught within, a struggle he intimately relates to— he tries once more to reach out in comfort.

“Amethyst…”

She sniffles, wiping away the leaking fluid pooling at the corners of her eyes.

(She does not, however, brush him away this time when he wraps his arms around her torso and nestles his head against her chest.)

“Just— forget it, okay?” she says after a quiet moment’s embrace, gently stepping back from his affection. “It’s whatever. Come on, Peridot and Ruby are waiting for us. Let’s dump this joint.”

__________

Ruby quietly shuffles across the loose soil, directing her eyes as low to the ground as possible to avoid having to stare at the Beta Kindergarten’s steep cliff walls. Red sandstone, Peridot proclaims a few feet away to their newly arrived sightseers, whirling in place with her arms extended wide. We’re lucky this place hasn’t blown away. Beta, am I right?

Steven manages a soft laugh at this. Amethyst continues onward with her arms crossed, unimpressed. But Ruby herself? Well, she’s the only Gem here who can say she crossed this infamous swath of sedimentary rock at its very beginning, on the day of emergence. The others may choose to laugh about how soft and unideal the soaring sandstone cliffs are, or about the uneven exit holes and curved walls, but in her opinion it’s no laughing matter. She’s seen firsthand how deadly even a so-called ‘imperfect’ Homeworld soldier can be. Even Garnet barely escaped with her gems intact.

Nervously flexing her fingers at her side as she tries not to dwell on that tragedy, she flashes her gaze upward, daring to catch even a passing glimpse of the top of the vast canyon. In an instant her vision swims with endless pillars of rusty oranges and reds.

Everything on this planet might as well tower over her without Sapphire. The once-welcoming arms of their temple? Monolithic. The vaulted ceilings of the beach house? Her eidetic memory can’t help but remind her of her early days spent marching through Homeworld’s diamond sized hallways with the rest of her squadron, patrolling the same route for well over five hundred cycles straight. The kicker? The Diamonds never had any reason to visit the shipment sector in person, anyways. The hallways were only constructed with such high ceilings to remind any Gem passing through of their rightful place under the Authority.

Over two hundred years, she adhered to their twisted rhetoric. Two hundred years of allowing everyone and everything around her to make her feel small, like she only existed for a singular purpose. Two hundred years of ignoring the tug of dissatisfaction at the core of her gem because of the misplaced belief that orderly subjugation under the Diamonds was simply the rightful pattern of existence. Then, in a beautiful bloom of light… she caught a glimpse of true freedom. And for the five thousand seven hundred years after that, Garnet didn’t feel quite so small anymore. She felt capable, confident, satisfied. Aided by Ruby’s physical strength and Sapphire’s future vision, she finally dared to challenge Homeworld’s rhetoric. She dared to live for herself.

Sighing under her breath, Ruby touches her fingers to the place in her right palm where her missing gem is, tracing the triangular shape of its illusory facets.

There’s no use arguing; Garnet was a better Crystal Gem than she can ever hope to be on her own. And now, because Rose just had to go and manipulate all of them, there’s a strong chance she’ll never get to be Garnet with her Sapphy ever again. Which means that until further notice, she’s stuck like this: short, stubby, and woefully insecure. Hah! Figures. All those years spent fighting against Homeworld’s warped notion that Gems had stagnant purposes and couldn’t grow beyond their stations, and now it’s as if she’s been dumped back at the beginning, like the past five millennia never happened.

It’s a cruel irony.

And yet it’s no crueler than this awful place: a cradle of birth manufactured as a tool of war, a Gem’s very existence leeching the life out of this once-fertile ground. The scars on the walls tell a mournful story, and as Ruby slowly trudges after her loved ones, fingers numb and fidgety in the wake of haunted disorientation, she can’t help but wish she wasn’t present for its prologue.

“Ruby…?”

Her sight trains on one of the tilted exit holes closest to ground level, on the messy silhouette it provides. She remembers this one, in fact, Garnet watched her emerge. She was a carnelian. By Homeworld’s standards, an imperfect one. That doesn’t matter, though. None of Homeworld’s lies matter. Running on nothing but the primary orders she was incubated with, (it wasn’t her fault, it was the Diamonds’, she reminds herself with a bitter growl), that Gem still emerged to poof three fellow rebels on sight. If Garnet hadn’t been so quick to retrieve their gemstones, they might have been shattered that day. Many of the others assigned to her squadron weren’t as lucky. Inhaling shakily, Ruby pauses to trace her fingers across a raised ridge in the rough, brittle sandstone.

“Hey, Ruby!” his energetic voice calls again, snapping her out of her intense focus like a fusion splitting in half.

“Aaaah!” she cries, swinging around and pulling both fists up in defense. Her hands uncoil rapidly once she catches a glimpse of that cheery yellow star.

Aw, scrap! she chides herself, repositioning her feet solid on the ground to regain some sense of internal balance. Damned startle reflex.

Unfazed, Steven grins boyishly, skipping a few steps away from the rest of the group to join her by the cliff wall. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Amethyst and Peridot are watching now too, she realizes, her brief but audible outburst thoroughly diverting their attention from their Beta Kindergarten roast session. Their quizzical glances pin her in place, her hard-light form heating in embarrassment as she struggles to organize the flow of her emotions in a way that might make sense to anyone beyond a fellow ruby. She scrunches up her nose and considers her next words carefully, attempting to strike the proper boundary between what is and isn’t appropriate to say in front of a half-human child. Stars knows Amethyst, Pearl, and herself haven’t had a great record with that over the past few days.

“Just thinkin’ about Sapphire, mostly,” she admits, offering him a saddened shrug. “Can’t seem to stop that, even half a world away.”

“Speaking of that... Why did you run after us?” Amethyst asks in a notably less cranky manner than earlier, lightly kicking at the dirt with the toes of her booties. “You never said.”

“Y’know, I…” She pauses, pressing her hand to her chin. “I’m not sure. I spent days waiting in front of the temple door. And eventually, I guess I figured that if she’s gonna make me wait no matter what, I might as well do something with myself until then. ‘Sides, I didn’t want to be lonely,” she adds, suddenly feeling just as small and vulnerable in front of all of them as her timid voice sounds.

She felt lonely enough when she ran away from home a few days ago, tears streaming in messy rivulets down her face, utterly spurning their attempts at comfort so she could pretend she was anything else than powerless amidst this nightmare. She never wanted to split, not at all. She begged Sapphire to give their relationship another chance, to believe in the strength of their love more than the fear of a diamond’s control, but tragically, her partner couldn’t hold up under the pressure. If one individual doesn’t wholeheartedly want to be Garnet, then Garnet cannot exist. They can’t synchronize. It’s simply the nature of fusion. And given her love’s avoidance, refusing to so much as leave her room to begin with, Ruby’s beginning to lose hope that their fusion will ever exist again. The crippling isolation that realization affords is the worst form of loneliness she can imagine.

Thus, the least she can do at the moment to mitigate these all-consuming feelings is to get off her butt, leave the temple, and ensure she’s surrounded by loved ones.

Peridot steeples her fingers together in front of her chest. “Well, what if you moved in with us?” she offers in a meek tone at first, her expression brightening as she continues to explain her idea. “The barn’s got plenty of room, and with two roommates you’d never have to feel lonely again!”

Steven’s dark irises practically sparkle. “Aww, Peridot, that’s super sweet of you to offer!”

“Wow, thanks,” she replies earnestly, puffing out her chest in a rush of personal pride. “I do try!”

“Yeah!” Ruby says with a hesitant laugh, scratching at the back of her neck. “That sounds amazing, but…”

“You should do it, Ruby!” he encourages, bouncing up and down on his sandaled feet amidst his excitement. “You should totally move in with them!”

“D’ya… d’ya really think so?”

“Yeah! It’d be like your very own vacation, but you’d only be a warp away!”

“And you’re sure you’d be fine with it? Y’know, with everything at home all…” She blows a juicy raspberry, jabbing her thumb down.

Amethyst serves her a big shrug. “I ain’t got a problem. Go crazy.”

“There’s no need to worry about me,” Steven says, smiling evenly. “I only want what’s best for you. And if you think not staying in the temple all the time would make you feel better, you should give it a try!”

Her concerned glance drops on the young half-Gem. Sure, it’s very compassionate of him, actively choosing to care so deeply for everyone’s emotional needs all the time, but home life for him hasn’t exactly been nurturing and hospitable lately. He already lost one of his pillars of stability when Garnet unfused. Pearl and Amethyst are at each other’s necks again. Sapphire hasn’t emerged from her room for days. Greg’s… doing whatever it is Greg does when he’s not hanging out with his son, probably keeping his distance from Gem business as usual. So with all that in mind, even if temporarily living apart from Sapphire is sure to be a beneficial move for her personal well-being and sanity, is now actually the proper time to consider a change in scenery? She purses her lips.

“I’ll think about it.”

Peridot lets out a sharp squeal of delight, apparently ecstatic about the prospect of possibly gaining a new roommate. Ruby can’t help but grin at this response. In truth, if she didn’t have to consider the well-being of Steven and the rest of the Crystal Gems, she’d say yes in a heartbeat. After all, she’s never gotten the opportunity to make many decisions on her own. Heck, she’s never gotten the opportunity to do much of anything on her own. Every time she’s unfused within the last five thousand years, her priorities have always been about what Sapphire would want, what Sapphire would do.

Well, what about Ruby, this time? Aren’t her desires important? What does she want?

Long term… she has no clue. But right now? She’d prefer to avoid dire reminders of old sorrows at all costs, thank you. So when Peridot declares that she’s 99.9% positive she’s found Jasper’s exit hole, Ruby declines to join them in their roast session. She never came here for sightseeing, anyways. She came here as their lookout. Just in case. She’s never trusted this awful tear in the ground one bit, and she’s not about to start now.

Running instinctively on old programming she was incubated with, she creeps deeper between the narrow mouth of the cliffs and summons her gauntlets at her side. Sure, so maybe they’re not as daunting in their size as Garnet’s, but they can still pack one heck of a punch. She’s still good at punching on her own, yeah? Hopefully? Stars, it’s been so long since she’s gone solo for more than a few measly hours.

And then, at the cliff base in front of her, she spots the most unusual exit hole she’s seen in this miserable canyon yet. For one, it’s low to the ground, like Amethyst’s. That fact alone is enough to set off alarm bells in her head. On top of that, its silhouette is almost comically wide and indistinct, not resembling any cut of Gem she’s aware of.

“Huh. That’s different,” she murmurs, pacing closer to investigate.

Maybe an off-color topaz could punch a hole as wide as this? But… no, no. That can’t be right. Hard light coursing wildly through her form, Ruby dissipates one of her gauntlets and runs the tips of her fingers across the crumbly inside surface of this hole. A few granules of sandstone break off upon her touch and clatter against the ground, and she jerks her hand away as if touching impossibly cold ice. Something about this feels... wrong. To be fair, she’s no expert kindergartener like Peridot, but she’s pretty confident the interior of exit holes should be smooth, with striated rock layers extending all the way back. Instead, this bizarre scar in the cliffs almost seems like—

“It’s dug out,” she says, eyes widening in dawning horror.

Which means they may not be alone in this rusted relic of a Kindergarten after all.

Her body suddenly feeling staticky and unbalanced amidst all this damning uncertainty, she tiptoes away from this mysterious feature, slowly at first, and then— as the fear begins to bubble up within her core like boiling water transformed under her power— transitioning into a sprint. We’re not alone, she repeats to herself in a harried mantra. Not alone. Not alone, we’re not alone, we’re—

Ruby’s foot catches on an uneven lip of stone jutting up from the ground, and she quickly plows headfirst into the coarse dirt, promptly ending her terror-stricken flight.

“Ow,” she whines as she recovers from this fall, rubbing at the side of her head. Not only is she a little dizzy, but her surroundings are made further hazy amidst the overbearing sunlight pounding indiscriminately upon the ground floor of this canyon. It’s enough disorientation to allow the jumbled code of her gem to begin to play tricks on her. For one, she swears she can hear this low, timid skittering, like thick claws rhythmically scraping against rock. Second, she’s half-convinced she can feel a surplus of physical vibrations radiating from the cliffs surrounding her. Squinting, she shields her eyes under a raised arm so she can begin to gain her bearings again. The blinding light recedes.

The red Gem gulps fearfully amidst the burning colors of the harsh sandstone landscape. “Wait, is that—“

She’s stumbled her way into a massive clearing, lined on all sides by stacked rows of holes physically dug into the sheer walls. Each opening is barred by a number of thick metal rods, stripped from the legs of the injectors that once incubated this hell in the first place. The thoughtful engineering imbued in this setup is impressive and terrifying all at once. Ignoring the tangible tug of hesitation at her core, she pushes herself back on her feet and creeps towards the closest cage to investigate further.

“Uh, you guys?” she calls loudly as she walks, the unusual curves of this canyon an undisputed blessing as they carry her message back to the others.

“Yeah?” Amethyst chimes back, her voice notably distant. Too distant.

“We’ve got, um—” her hand glides across one of the bent, rusty bars— “a bit of a problem here?”

“What?? Speak louder, we can’t hear you!”

Before she can even prepare to reply, a fur-covered monstrous creature leaps from the shadowy abyss of its prison and snaps its tusks at her. She yells, jerking her hand away from the cage and stumbling a few feet back. Her brow creases in abject confusion as she attempts to process what she’s seeing in front of her. It’s… it’s a corrupted Gem? This one’s most definitely a quartz; she recognizes the faceting, as well as the distinctive fur-covered quadrupedal shape of its corrupted form. But why on Earth is it being trapped within a cage in the middle of a defunct kindergarten instead of being placed in a bubble’s comforting stasis? The ground beneath her feet grows noticeably warmer as a rush of impassioned anger surges through her hard light form. She grinds her teeth together, flexing her fists at her side in the name of this cruel injustice. Caging isn’t part of Crystal Gem protocol for a reason!

Unfortunately, the horror show continues as her gaze passes over each and every cage in this clearing, finding scared, thrashing, corrupted Gems in almost all of them. Fluid builds up at the corner of her eyes as they scream and wail at her, riding a fresh wave of cacophony spurned by that Gem she spooked just a moment ago. How could anyone ever build such an awful place? And why?

Heavy, assured footfalls suddenly bounce across the acoustically encouraging slopes and surfaces of this ravine, magnified tenfold in their wake. Ruby gasps, wasting no time in ducking behind a tall rocky formation at the mouth of the clearing. That’s definitely not Amethyst or any of the others. It sounds too large, too bulky. She kneels low so she can still peek over the topmost layer of sandstone, a knot of dread coiling within as the footfalls continue to grow louder. Groaning, she clutches at her head. The unknown, the impenetrable shadow of the future… stars, it haunts her more than loneliness itself.

And then, the specter of her history reveals herself, making Ruby’s tangible form stutter in the sheer terror her appearance affords.

Jasper— her opponent, her nightmare, the Rebel Slayer herself— emerges from a plume of rising dust at the edge of this populous arena and enters the game.

#su #steven universe #ruby #amethyst #peridot #su fanfiction #my writing stuff #crack the paragon

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lukneetoonz · 5 years ago

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From Across The Room

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Summary: Shinsou spots you from across the room, and suddenly there’s nothing else he wants more in the world.

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi x Female Reader

Warnings: Drinking (be responsible pls), mentions of uncomfortable touching situations,

Word Count: 1,698

A/N: This is a special for getting to 100 followers!! Loosely based on the song ‘Dance, Baby!’ By Boy Pablo, ‘Strangers in The Night’ by Frank Sinatra, and ‘Beautiful’ by Bazzi. Tbh at this point I should just make a playlist so you guys could have some bangers. But in all seriousness, thank you all for the love and support lately, it’s meant a lot. I can’t even begin to tell you how much it’s meant. I love you all 🥺👉👈

NO ARTWORK POSTED IS MY OWN AND IS FOUND ON PINTEREST

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Shinsou Hitoshi was not a partier. If it was up to him, he’d be home playing video games, eating chips and drinking a bang energy until he could hear the birds chirp beyond his black out curtains. But here he was, sitting on a couch next to his blonde friend that was practically having sex with a random girl he met with horrible music playing in the background. Drink in hand, Shinsou looked up at the makeshift dance floor only to have his breath taken away by a girl he could swear was an angel on this god forsaken earth. You were dancing with some of your friends, smiling as you tried to sing along to the song the best you could.

As you were blissfully unaware of the lilac colored eyes watching your form in fondness, a man approached you from behind and gripped onto your hips and pulled you into him to dance, the action making Shinsou scowl. What was he thinking? Of course a beautiful girl like you would have many others pining after you, he’s sure you wouldn’t even look in direction. Hell, the only reason people know his name is because he’s friends with Kaminari and Midoryia, and not by choice. Ever since becoming a pro-hero, he decided to take Aizawa’s route and go underground because he could care less about fame and attention, he just cared about helping people.

Shinsou was lost in his thoughts; he didn’t even notice your own look of discomfort as you tried to nudge the guy away unsuccessfully. The indigo haired man only noticed when he heard your soft voice speak up, even if it should have gone unnoticed with the background noise, he noticed. “Let go of me.” Was all you had to say for the young pro hero to stand up and be by your side in an instant. Towering over both you and the Male he raised an eyebrow, “Why are you still here if she said to let go?” His deep voice got your attention and you couldn’t believe your long time crush came to your rescue.

You had gone to UA, but you were in the support course and you still did support hero work, in fact you worked with Kirishima. Kirishima would actually have you help the other pro hero’s a lot too since your quirk came in handy a lot of times; you were able to see anything damaged or weakened just by looking at it. So you could easily tell a person's injuries or see what’s wrong with their costume and fix it faster than anyone. Because of this, you had known Kaminari quite well, since he was a little clumsy sometimes and he needed help to figure out what was wrong with his gadgets and you never hesitated to help, because sometimes shinsou would be there and you’d sneak a peak at him.

That’s why when he was towering over you with such an intimidating look, your whole body froze. Heat rushing to (S/C) cheeks as you couldn’t even force yourself to look away. After years of pining he actually noticed your presence? Shaking your emotions off you focus on the situation before you, subconsciously moving closer to the purple eyed boy. “Man you know how crazy bitches can be! She was grinding on me and then just got all weird, Cmon just walk away and we both avoid trouble” the man's words make you want to vomit as you looked at Shinsou with terrified eyes, which merely confirmed to him what he was already thinking.

Nodding he sighed before grabbing your waist and pulling you away fully from the man and anyone who truly knew Shinsou would say he was practically seething with anger, even if he came off calm and collected. “I’ll only say this one time, ‘man’, so listen good. If I ever catch you touching a woman when she doesn’t want it, I’ll personally break both of your hands in ways you never knew. Now, turn around and go home before I second guess my decision on letting you go.” The man didn’t even reply and just mutely listened to Shinsou so you only assumed there were quirks involved.

Turning, you moved to fully face Shinsou and smiled shyly, avoiding his gaze. “Thank you… Uh for helping me…” A lazy smirk found itself on Shinsou’s face as he shrugged, hand still on your waist. “It was nothing, I see a beautiful woman in danger and I help, it’s what I do.” (E/C) eyes flew up to meet his as your face heated up, “Wh- beautiful? Did you, Shinsou Hitoshi, call me beautiful?” Your knowledge of him seemed to shock him as he raised his eyebrows at you and tilted his head, “You know who I am?” Pulling your lip in between your teeth, you nodded shyly, not even being able to find the right words to answer him.

Shinsou himself gulped as he stared at you, not liking how his eyes drifted to your lips. The beating of his heart was loud in his ears as he thought about how you knew him, yet you still didn’t shy away from his touch. With a quirk that’s been called villainous, Shinsou has been judged most of his life. It didn’t help with his personality being cocky and seemingly self centered, so when you smiled at him while saying his name, it’s like he was housing a butterfly garden in his stomach. “I-I went to UA too… except I was in the support course… but I always admired your determination to be a hero. It’s very reputable.”

Okay now he was just gonna slap himself. You went to UA? How could he have not noticed you!? Yet you noticed him, not only did you notice him but you admired him! A blush spread across his pale skin, as his focus was on you and only you. “What’s your name? I mean, it’s only fair since you know mine” Now your heart beat was rapid as you played with your clothing. “You can call me Y/N…” Y/N… what a beautiful name, and it fit you so well. Replaying it over in his head, he chuckled a little before saying it out loud. “Y/N… I like it.”

If you died in that second, you wouldn’t care. Shinsou Hitoshi, likes your name. Oh god you’re going back to your highschool ways… although highschool you would have probably fainted already or ran away screaming. “I like you too- wait no- I mean I like it too. Not you too!” Shit, you were so weird. He’s gonna hate you and talk about you to Kaminari who’s gonna tell everyone- “Man, and here I wanted to take you out. But I only take out the ones who like me” he smirked smugly, making you choke on air. “Really?” Shinsou chuckled, nodding his head as he traced your jawline with his finger. “Really really.”

“Then boy do I like you , I've liked you since highschool!” Maybe that was too much information, but you wanted- no needed that date. Shinsou smiled softly and blushed, grabbing his phone and opening contacts handing you the device, “Well, I'm gonna need your number then” nodding, you grabbed his phone and put in your information, gulping as you couldn’t believe this was happening. “Y/N C'mon you’re our DD!!” Damn your friends for ruining your moment. Damn them to the seven circles of hell. Honestly, you debated on acting like you didn’t know them but they came and draped themselves onto you, making Shinsou chuckle. “I’ll see you soon, Y/N.”

*•*

After having to take care of your drunk friends you finally walked into your own place and sighed happily, going and changing into pajamas. As you flopped into your bed, your phone buzzed and you saw an unknown number had texted you and you pulled it up, furrowing your eyebrows as you forgot everything that happened.

Shinsou: ‘Hey, it’s Shinsou :)’

Oh my god. He texted you. He actually wants to know you. Before you could even respond you noticed that he texted you basically right after you left the party, which was hours ago. You ruined everything, he must hate you. How could you have not noticed that he texted? Dragging you out of your thoughts was the buzz of your phone, looking down you saw the miracle of a double text.

Shinsou: ‘I hope this isn’t too weird, but did you get home okay?’

He’s so sweet you might just die. Smiling softly, you let your thumbs move as you typed a response back to the handsome pro hero. You saved his name to a new contact, chuckling at the name as you were unaware of the name he had made yours.

You: ‘I’m so sorry! I didn’t see your text! But yes, I just got home! I had to take care of those toddlers I call friends XD’

On the other side of the phone, the indigo haired boy took a breath of relief seeing you were okay because ‘Angel’ responded to his texts, and didn’t block him for double texting. Shinsou Hitoshi was happy for the first time in a while, hoping that he would be able to keep your presence in his life for a long time to come.

#mha fanfiction #mha imagines #shinsou x y/n #mha shinsou #shinsou headcanons #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou imagine #shinsoubnha #shinsou smut #shinsou x reader #shinsou x kaminari #bnha shinso hitoshi #mha hitoshi #hitoshi shinso imagine #shinsouhitoshiimaginedarlingely

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a-lil-perspective · 5 years ago

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•Braids and Bavodu’e•

A/N: Directly affiliated with the “Serendipity With A Slice Of Sergeant” series, this spin-off is for Uncle Crosshair. There are three segments spanning within this narrative that each depict different phases of time. To clarify—the order will proceed as such: Middle, Beginning, End. In total adoration for this particular concept with Crosshair, I poured my heart and soul into the curation, and I hope you all find enjoyment within. Feedback, recommendations, and requests are always appreciated. @shadow-hyder @obiorbenkenobi @thegoodbatch @starflyer-104 @karpasia @kriffingunlucky @everyonehasanindividuality

•▫️♦️•▫️♦️•▫️♦️•▫️♦️•▫️♦️•▫️♦️•▫️♦️▫️•

“I... do not think you’re doing it the right way, Crosshair. It says here in the guide to weave over, then under—”

“Tech, kindly close your yap so I can concentrate.” Crosshair bit out, sighing in frustration over the seemingly impossible task. “I know what I’m doing.”

He had no idea what he was doing.

But when Hunter’s daughters came bounding up to Crosshair with a hairbrush and a plea—how could he refuse?

After all, it was just one braid in a little girl’s hair—how hard can it be?

The six-year-old jittered with excitement. “I can’t wait till it’s done!”

“I can’t either,” Crosshair mumbled through a hair accessory clamped between his teeth as he worked.

A sniper and ex-Super Commando against toddlers and tresses?

No problem.

///

Crosshair’s hands smoothed over the entirety of the girl’s hair; signifying his completion, finally, of this one kriffing braid. His contentment over the results made up for the aching in his wrist. He was no hairdresser, and yet—clenching and uncurling his fingers before cracking his knuckles to alleviate the strain—Crosshair figured he’d better start building up the muscle strength in his hands; a sneaking suspicion that there would be many more braids to come.

His deduction was already confirmed when Tech promptly planted the three-year-old Rowena straight into the sniper’s lap, next.

“You have to do Ro’s hair, too.” Tech needlessly explained.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” Crosshair sneered, rolling his eyes and once again favoring the tactic of sardonic responses to conceal his discomfiture for whatever situation he found himself in.

“His name isn’t Captain Obvious, Ba’vodu!” Alarasmé’s high-pitched voice cut through the tension, her lack of knowledge on sarcasm pointedly intervening. “That’s Uncle Tech!”

“You’re right, ‘Lara—but tell Crosshair who your favorite Uncle is, hmm?” He encouraged, a feeling of total confidence and surety in the girl’s pending answer.

“You, Uncle Crosshair.”

Her confirmation managed to simultaneously inflate Crosshair’s ego and deflate Tech’s. The engineer’s mouth lay agape, his downcast expression symbolic of crushed spirits, and the image of Tech’s pout allowed Crosshair to become wholly amused by his vod’ika’s lack of dignity around a six-year-old.

“I... Alara... I thought I was your favorite Ba’vodu?” The engineer was utterly baffled, devastation evident in his voice.

“That was only yesterday, Techie.” The girl stated with complete disregard for her Uncle’s feelings, as if her admission towards a shift in predilection was the most justifiable thing, and a predictable reoccurrence, at that.

Apparently, it was.

“But... but Crosshair has practically had a running streak for three weeks now!” Tech whined, to which the sniper simply cast him the most smug expression the engineer has ever seen.

Had there not been small children around, Tech swore to himself that he would’ve punched that stupid smirk right off his ori’vod’s face, he was that indignant over the ranking.

So he attempted to compensate for his trauma and descending favor by kneeling in front of the three-year-old with her locks currently tended to as he worked on coercing his desired validation out of the toddler.

“Rowena, Tech is your favorite Uncle, correct?”

The toddler giggled and reached her tiny fingers out to yank at Tech’s goggles, pulling them away from his face before abruptly letting go; the resistance from the band around the back of his head causing the corrective eyewear to suddenly retract with a thwack against his skin. The sound of Tech’s yelp of pain nearly overpowered Crosshair’s cackling.

“You di’kut, you had that one coming, tryna reason with a baby,” the sniper managed to choke out through his wheezing, to which Tech scowled, soothing over both the fresh sting around his delicate eye area and his further injured pride.

“As a matter of fact, I think the response was a good sign. According to research, babies and small children naturally present with more attentiveness and personality to people they favor—“

“Awe don’t worry, Techie,” the sniper brushed his vod’ika aside with a goading stroke of snark. “It’s not your fault—not everyone can be as well accomplished as this Ba’vodu.”

It was true—while Crosshair was slightly begrudged to admit—his deft and nimble fingers that procured precision in every aspect of his work were, unsurprisingly, the most ideal candidate for constructing intricate hairstyles.

Not that he was complaining one bit.

///

“Papa! Look at my hair!!” The little girl gave a proud twirl in flaunting the new style to her Father upon his return with Uncle Wrecker.

Hunter’s eyes widened, signaling his eased integration of whimsicality and theatrics into his daughter’s exuberance. He was a natural; proof of his intrinsically befitting role of Fatherhood on display time over again.

“Alarasmé?! Is that you?! I barely even recognized you, you’re even more beautiful then I remember!” He knelt to be eye-level with his daughter in emphasizing his payments of the highest respect and reverence for her beauty; his surprise remaining authentic, and his compliment even more so.

Truthfully, he was thoroughly surprised at beholding his two daughters that day... with their hair beautifully styled... by... Crosshair?

Hunter’s brows furrowed while curiously regarding his vod, whose own attentive gaze was fully occupied with giving purpose to the last thin strands of hair on the youngest girl. If Crosshair felt Hunter’s intense gaze of perplexity boring into him over his unprecedented behavior, he had yet to acknowledge it.

He did feel it, and was pointedly ignoring.

“All done, Ro.” Crosshair announced upon promptly attaching the finishing touch to Rowena’s head before she bolted out of the chair in racing her chubby toddler legs over to Hunter, who matched her eagerness as he lovingly scooped up his ik’aad to also exalt her beauty and express his adoration for the girl’s new accessory—

So that’s where his red bandana went.

“Papa! Your turn!” The girls pulled a now flustered Sergeant over to Crosshair, who suddenly flashed Hunter the most devilish grin before patting the stool in front of him in an overly welcoming gesture; each word dripping with deliberate emphasis.

“Yes, Papa Hunter—have a seat.”

“Uh, I don’t think so—“

“I insist.”

The intense begging of his daughters mixed with the thinly-veiled intimidation tactics of Crosshair left Hunter with little choice than to flop unceremoniously down into the chair, but not before turning to greet his vod with a glare and feigned warning:

“You’ll regret this.”

“Oh, I think not, Sergeant—I am going to enjoy the absolute kriff out of this.” Crosshair smirked, playfully smacking the back of his ori’vod’s head. “Now be still and enjoy your braid. Remember to smile for Tech’s recording.”

/// *** \\\

“Do you want to hold her, vod?”

There it is. The dreaded question Crosshair knew was coming.

The nauseating one that caused his head to spin and a sheen of sweat to break out across his forehead; a question that triggered Crosshair’s urge to promptly flee the scene.

Not that the idea itself dreaded him—but who was he kidding; his hands were used to cradling rifles, not babies.

Certainly not infant newborns.

“You’re not gonna break her, vod. Don’t worry. She’s tougher than she looks.” Hunter replies with reverence for his firstborn and innate realization for the way Cross was so conflicted; as if the sniper’s contorted and downright terrified facial expression wasn’t overt enough.

Crosshair’s hands unconsciously drifted defensively in front of him, and he noted the way they were slightly trembling.

Of course Hunter noticed, too—he deliberately approached Crosshair last with news of the baby’s arrival, equipped with full comprehension for the way his vod would instinctively portray a great deal of resistance to the encounter, originating from his suffocating trepidations. Inwardly, Hunter couldn’t place fault; the prospect, his new reality, was also just as utterly foreign to a man groomed for the role of a Sergeant and super soldier all of his life. He was actually a Father now.

Crosshair’s stammering became the only audibility as he desperately searched for the right words. “I... I don’t... How do I—”

“Just position your arms, exactly like mine here,” Hunter gently instructed, stifling his slight hilarity in regarding Crosshair’s plight and uncharacteristically timid behavior. He slowly transferred the bundle, leaving a last piece of advice on how to support the baby’s head with the act of cradling.

There she is. The moment Crosshair’s fret over, the focal point of his immense stress for nine months straight; all condensed into this one moment:

A moment that forcefully yanked the air from the sniper’s lungs. Fear. Joy. Exhilaration. Assurance. Swirling emotions enveloping and succumbing to solidification; leaving his vision in cloudy haze, nearly bringing the man to his knees. The moment he swore his heart would beat out of his chest from the hammering against his ribcage and the pure adrenaline rushing through his veins.

A moment of—

“How does it feel, Ba’vodu?” Hunter’s genuine smile and elation reeled Crosshair back, momentarily.

“I...” Crosshair faltered, not trusting himself to speak. Not yet.

Don’t stare. Stay calm. Act normal. Breathe—

He swallowed hard, lowering his octave to just above a whisper and opting for the incitement of a casual inquiry as he desperately tried to compensate for the weight, or lack thereof, in his arms.

She was... way lighter than a rifle...

“What did you name her?”

“Alarasmé.”

The hard eye rolling of Crosshair briefly allowed the sniper’s usual derisive quips to surface in that instant. What a name.

“That’s too big for a baby, you di’kut.” Both men chuckled at the ribbing.

“She’ll grow into it. Besides—we figured there could be lots of nicknames to come from it: ‘Alara’, ‘Lara’, ‘Lar’—”

“That’s... better. Pretty.”

“Glad you think so, vod. You know your opinion is the only one I care about.”

Crosshair’s wry smile spread across his features, mirroring his ori’vod’s. He appreciated the former Sergeant favoring the antidote of humor to ease them both into the new transition, despite Hunter currently looking a little worse for wear.

His thoughts flickered to a more pressing question, the one that plagued his thoughts the moment medical droids ushered her back.

“And... Y/N? Is she—?”

“She’s doing great, vod,” Hunter’s smile projected reassurance.

Crosshair exhaled in relief, releasing a breath he didn’t know he’d held captive. “That’s good... figured as much, otherwise you wouldn’t even be coherent. Surprised you didn’t pass out right on the spot.”

“Me too.” Hunter’s deep laugh echoed against the stark white walls of the hospital. “But I did have to send Wrecker outside until he could stop howling from sheer excitement. And I sent Tech in there to keep an eye on her while she rests.”

“Resting and Tech do not go together, Hunter. I think baby fever is stunting your sound judgement here.”

“Cross—relax, would you? Tech’s not gonna bother anything. Everything is fine, I promise: Y/N is OK.” Hunter inhaled patience and breathed out compassion before gently continuing, a sense of fond remembrance coloring his features.

“You should’ve seen her, vod; she was SO happy. Could barely pry that little one from her arms.” The former Sergeant carefully eyed Crosshair in accentuation over his next statement. “But she wanted you to see the baby. Was askin’ about you. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Crosshair felt a contemplative frown tug the corner of his lips as his brows furrowed in intense deciphering of Hunter’s admission.

Y/N... was asking... about him? Wanted to make sure he was okay? Even though she was the one giving birth.

Hunter should count his lucky stars. Maker, that woman was so kriffing compassionate and thoughtful, her altruism a real rarity.

If someone were to ask; this was but one of many reasons why Crosshair loved you so damn much.

He could hardly breathe at the pang of guilt now coursing through him—talk about a real shabuir. He could’ve made himself available for support instead of trekking around the hospital to wallow in his reservations and anxiety.

Crosshair felt he did a major disservice to the people whom he deeply cared for, who relied on him—and he fervently sought to make amends.

Maybe he could start today...

The sniper’s eyes finally drifted to the bundle in his arms and settled on the baby now slightly squirming as she cooed and suddenly blessed Crosshair with the image of two pools of dazzling brown eyes reflecting; soft and warm and curiously regarding the company of a temporary acquaintance cradling her. Her face was tender; concave features and tiny lips immediately curving into a half smile.

Crosshair couldn’t breathe.

He nearly clutched his chest, seeking to address the now smoking hole in the center courtesy of a newborn, his niece, and her well placed shot point-blank through his heart.

Impressive by even an expert sniper’s standards.

It was as if suddenly, instead of blood seeping from his exposed heart, it was pure ardor forcefully expelling and completely washing away disquietude to project a vulnerability so lovingly welcomed and an intimacy so deeply cherished in that instant; an indescribable moment Crosshair wished he could capture the essence of forever.

A moment Crosshair fell in love.

With stars in his eyes and total adoration for this beautiful human created from an unrepentant devotion, the sniper quickly decided with an unwavering resolve that love was the most powerful thing in the entire galaxy—a raw purity that suddenly reached out to evoke healing and restitution through solely the grasp of her tiny fingers.

And it was with slight amusement and full reverence that Crosshair acknowledged how only a child of Y/N could have such an effect of him.

Hunter felt as he was was intruding on a private moment with the way Crosshair’s entire mood and expression finally shifted; hardened layers peeling back to reveal a raw core of delicate emotions—a demeanor in his vod that Hunter had not witnessed the materialization of in a very long time.

A tiny droplet on the baby’s blanket became the only indication to Crosshair of his emotions now manifested through his glistening eyes.

Worry and anxiety became evident on Hunter’s face as he carefully watched the silent tears now roll down his vod’s cheek and patter against the cloth swaddling his newborn daughter.

He’s crying... Crosshair doesn’t cry... Is he just utterly overwhelmed? Overjoyed? Scared?

Hunter reached out tentatively, unsure of what to do, at a loss for what to say.

Tell me what you need, kih’vod...

“Crosshair? Do you... want me to take her back now—?”

“Hunter,” the sniper choked out, unabashed in his unequivocal bliss. “She is perfect.”

Absolutely perfect.

—Such were the emotions of love and doting magnified upon the addition of another beautiful daughter; proof of Crosshair’s inflated eagerness at Rowena’s arrival evident through the scenario of Wrecker’s form nearly put to the ground as Crosshair practically shoved his way to get to the new baby girl first.

/// *** \\\

“—And he’s just SO nice, great listener, super cute, too—“

“I don’t like him.”

The now thirteen-year-old whipped her head around to regard her Ba’vodu, who nearly lost his grip on the girl’s ebony locks currently under revision of a new hairstyle.

“Uncle Crosshair, you don’t even know him.”

“I don’t have to. If any boy likes my niece, I don’t like him. It’s very simple, love.” Crosshair solidified his terse judgment with a twirl of his finger in signaling Alarasmé to revert to her original position, allowing him resumed access to the back of her head.

The eldest daughter of Hunter grumbled and crossed her arms, complying with Crosshair’s instruction. “You never like any of mine and Rowena’s friends. That’s hardly fair.”

“I don’t play fair, sweetheart. You should know that by now.”

‘Lara simply ignored her stubborn uncle in continuing with her story. “Anyway, so he approached me after a class, and guess what??”

The girl’s enthusiasm was utterly endearing, and her theatrics intrinsically drew a smile out of Crosshair. He decided to humor her.

“What, beautiful Alarasmé?? Enlighten your uncle Crosshair.”

Her barely contained excitement suddenly effervesced in the form of an absolutely delighted squeal that echoed the entirety of space and left a ringing in Crosshair’s ears.

“HE GAVE ME HIS HOLO FREQUENCY!!”

Crosshair was immensely glad Alara’s back poised to him possessed the inability to behold the deep scowl etched into her Uncle’s face in that moment.

But she was practically glowing with elation, and Crosshair wasn’t about to rob her of a childhood exuberance that was so authentically pure and wholesome.

But he couldn’t help himself—you’d think they were the sniper’s own offspring, what with the way he was utterly enamored and obsessively overprotective of his ori’vod’s daughters. Kriff. They were his literal undoing.

Crosshair suddenly emerged to behold two large pools of beautiful brown studying his face, searching for a reaction, silently pleading for his approval.

He swallowed his skepticism and disdain for some stranger, little more than a kid, contending for his niece’s beautiful heart; forcing his most genuine smile in response.

“That’s... really great, ‘Lara. I’m happy for you. Let me know if you want me to kill him.”

“Thanks Ba’vodu—hey, I can kill him myself, thank you very much—“

“Good girl, verd’ika. That’s what I like to hear.” Her assertation became Crosshair’s favorite part of the news; a sense of pride and borderline sadistic satisfaction culminating from her bold reassurance. He made no qualms of obscuring his pleased smirk from the teenager when her own suddenly reflected back at him.

“Awe. Do you feel better now, Ba’vodu?” Her animated expressions thoroughly amused Crosshair, reminding him once again of just how much the young girl favored her father’s personality the older she aged; his physical resemblance even more so.

Crosshair couldn’t get enough of it.

“As a matter of fact, cyar’ika—I do feel much better in knowing the four ex-Super Commandos in your life have done you justice by instilling in you the shameless instruction of kicking someone’s ass whenever needed. Yes.” He allowed a hand to deviate from her hair in playfully stroking her cheek before withdrawing; a sudden realization flickering. “You haven’t actually told your Papa yet, have you? You might want to—”

“No!” ‘Lara’s cry startled Crosshair. “Please don’t tell him—he is the worst and weirdest about this stuff, and Rowena already gives me a hard enough time, as it is!”

So you came to the most critiquing Uncle you have? He bit his tongue to keep from spitting out, recognizing the way that wouldn’t allay her distress.

Deep down, he also knew why both of his former Sergeant’s daughters spent so much of their time consumed with Crosshair—he was a good listener, typically calm and level-headed; not overly rumbustious, prying, or a downright troublemaker like the other men. While the sniper’s abrasive nature remained a steady inherence, his many unique forms of gentle conveyances resonated profoundly with the girls. Without fail, both females came to Crosshair for the deep conversations, always intrigued by their enigmatic Ba’vodu’s wisdom presented through his scope of very unfiltered perspectives. Sniper rifles, late night sweets, and new hairstyles were the focal point of their relationship.

Crosshair would allow himself some leniency—he was a pretty good Uncle.

Though he shifted full credit to their beautiful mother, who initially cultivated Crosshair’s soft refinement so many years ago; her two children further reinforcing that self-growth in the man.

Two children...

It‘s been five years since, but the pain of loss from what would’ve been a third child—a son of Hunter’s that never carried to full term—still heavily bore it’s remnants of poignancy.

It never got any easier to quell the grief.

“Cyar’ika... you have to tell him soon. That stubborn Daddy of yours will find out one way or another.” He chuckled lightly before softening his tone. “You know that.”

A sigh of defeat emitting from the girl tugged at Crosshair’s heart strings as he watched the way her eyes became acquainted with the floor for a long moment; harsh silence uncouth in the act of creating a palpable weight of melancholy to encompass the atmosphere.

An abrupt sound cut deep through disconcertment with the sudden clearing of Crosshair’s throat, an act that signified a redirected topic of conversing between the awkward Uncle and crestfallen teenager.

“Your hair is getting long, Alara.”

That seemed to do the trick, and Crosshair was satiated with the way her brown eyes lit up slightly and expression eased into a relaxed state as the beautiful smile that Crosshair found himself missing made it’s way to her lips once again.

“I know, Papa told me the same thing just this morning.” She stifled a laugh before continuing. “Said he was gonna grow his out even longer so that there would be competition. I told him you were gonna braid it again if he did.”

Crosshair chortled. His ori’vod‘s humor was so outlandish. “And I might just, anyway—what I wouldn’t give to see that again on your old man,” he mused in humored recollection, to which the young girl eagerly obliged in the shared remembrance.

Crosshair no more than withdrew his hands from the stylized hair before Alara’s own fingers instantly flew to splay atop her head in appraisal of the intricately woven locks. Both of Hunter’s daughters were modest in their hairdressing skills, but it was a unanimous agreement between them and their Uncle at an earlier stage that they preferred it this way—‘long chats and endearing head pats’—as the girls liked to call it.

Crosshair leaned back in the chair, analyzing his work in the form of a braided crown adorning the circumference of the girl’s head and spanning from temple-to-temple, before he allowed his own satisfaction to display.

The teenager flashed Crosshair a dazzling smile before her praise followed suit. “Nice work Uncle Cross; you’ve done it again.”

“I aim to please, cyar’ika.”

Crosshair eyed his niece for a long moment as a sense of urgency and obligation began to permeate his stance. Visible confusion danced across Alara’s features as Crosshair’s solemn gaze and hands now resting determinedly on her shoulders instantly perked her attentiveness.

“Alarasmé, I want you to promise me something.”

“Anything.” The resolution in her voice faltered briefly as her head cocked to the side in nonchalant contemplation. “Unless it’s to finally beat Uncle Wrecker in arm wrestling—that’s definitely not gonna happen.” She giggled, and Crosshair quickly matched her humor before continuing in earnest.

“Promise me that you won’t ever let some boy or anyone break your heart. You and Ro are tough, like your momma. But that doesn’t mean you won’t always have four ex-Super Commandos on your side. So also promise me that you’ll never forget how much your family loves you.”

The girl remained silent for a moment in the absorption and intense processing of her Uncle’s heavy requests.

“That’s a lot of promises.”

“Promise me, cyare.”

“OK Ba’vodu—I promise.” She reaches up to swipe at the man’s cheek. “No need to go all soft, ram’ser.”

Ram’ser. Y/N’s favorite term for him.

“Hey, just like I have Papa’s heart, Uncle Wrecker’s, and Uncle Tech’s—” she tenderly continued, splaying a hand across Crosshair’s chest, “—I have yours, too. So mine can’t break when there’s already plenty of hearts to keep it company. Don’t worry.” She pulled the man into a tight hug before retracting and playfully prodding his shoulder, her eyes quick to sparkle with mischief.

“Now take me to the shooting range—I want to nail a target from ten klicks while sporting this hairdo.”

#star wars #Braids and Bavodu’e #Uncle Crosshair #my writing #I’m blessed by Uncle Crosshair #your antics ain’t foolin’ no one ya soft sniping bastard #be blessed by soft Uncle Crosshair #using the tags to spew everything I didn’t want to overflow the A/N section #I’m not crazy about the format... I like my paragraphs a little more spaced out #feels wonky #had to crop a fair amount out with what felt like tons of revision #but I made it work because I was hella determined to fit it all into one narrative #here’s to hoping I hit the sweet spot with the dynamics?#I want to feel so much love and adoration for this work #but editing was uncharacteristically straining on my mental capacity #one can only reread one’s own work so many times in one setting before it starts to make you go stir crazy #I don’t know how to feel.#I think I’m just tired #and writer’s anxiety 👎🏻#maybe I’ll feel different tomorrow #incessant rambling in the tags #hopefully will remember to delete these #it’s a Lil thing

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deadontheinsidebut · 5 years ago

Text

You’re my boss? Part 1

Pairing: Bokuto x fem!reader

au: Bokuto is the head of a big company in Japan and his serious and professional demeanor is able to stop anyone in their tracks. You end up promoted to his personal assistant and he’s immediately entranced by you. What happens when he shows you a side that’s not so serious. How will you react?

Genre: fluff but also suggestive nsfw and a whole lot of spice I guess :) throughout the series

Disclaimer: hi guys this is just part 1 and the Bokuto you know and love from Haikyuu will pop out soon!! :)))) we’ll go more in depth with this Bokuto’s backstory in part 2 so stay tuned.

Your life would soon be changed forever. After being promoted to be the personal assistant of your cold and distant boss, you couldn’t help but feel slightly vulnerable at the thought. Bokuto Kōtarō was the biggest CEO in town and he was notorious for his inability to smile. You, being the adorable cinnamon roll you were, were shaking like crazy to meet your boss. After all, you’ve only been working under his other assistants before being randomly promoted due to the shortage of assistants.

When you made your way up to the top floor to meet your boss, you felt slight shivers trying to imagine what he looked like up close and personal. When the door swung open, you saw the ice cold eyes of the gray-haired man lock onto yours and you were stopped dead in your tracks. He was beautiful. His eyes reflected a mysterious aura that resembled an owl and his hair slicked back like a gray mountain. His shirt was buttoned up and his tie was tight around his neck.

You took a big gulp as you approached him. His eyes followed you as you made your way across the room. His stoic expression did nothing to reassure you. When you finally stood right in front of him, his deep, clear voice interrupted the silence.

“Ms. l/n, you’ve been working on the second floor as (assistant’s name’s) assistant right?”

“Y-yes sir.”

God, that was so stupid why did you say it like that??? Ugh what if he thinks you’re so unprofessional now?? What do you do??

He noticed your slight twitching and let out a deep sigh. You saw his eyes look at something behind you and he spoke once again.

“Ms. l/n, you will call me Bokuto. From now on, you’ll be my personal assistant and will report directly to me. But for now, just sit and watch so you’ll have an idea of what to do.”

His voice was not demanding in the slightest. Actually, he sounded quite soothing. You felt your body relax at his words.

“Thank you, Bokuto. I promise I won’t disappoint you!”

He smiled a bit at your declaration and went back to looking at his paperwork. You could see that he was really dedicated to his work. According to your old boss, Bokuto was able to leave the office anytime he wanted, but he always stayed many hours after everybody else in order to get more work in. You wondered if that ever caused a strain on his health.

As you unknowingly continued to stare at his face, he grumbled and turned to you.

“Oi, my face isn’t a piece of artwork. Go get me a can of beer if you’re bored.” (Haha his face is beautiful wdym)

“YES! Sorry sir!”

You scrambled to the vending machine to grab him a beer and you didn’t know which one he liked so you got one of each!

The bewildered look on his face when you came rushing back in with seven different types of beer cans in your arms was a sight to remember.

“Let me pay your back for those, Ms. l/n,” Bokuto said nonchalantly.

“No no, consider it a thank you for the promotion, sir,” you reply with a smile on your face.

You might be going crazy but you swore you could see a slight dust of pink on his cheeks.

“Very well. Thank you for the gift,” he says as he pops a can open.

You didn’t even notice that Bokuto has gotten through all seven of the cans and 2 piles of paperwork because you were starting to doze off. It was not until you felt a sloppy poke to your cheek that you jolted up.

The gesture was from none other than your cold-hearted boss. His eyes were dazed and he looked pretty drunk. It was almost 3am and you could feel yourself about to pass out.

“Hey y/n, you’re faaaaalling ashleeep on the jobbbb. Thas not allowed! Lemme take you...home okay?”

Then sound of your first name in his mouth was delightful and you could feel your stomach churn. Oh god what dirty thoughts were you thinking of with your boss of all people???

He starts to stand from where he was squatting beside you but he was wobbling like crazy.

“B-bokuto be careful!! Let me help you!”

But it was too late; Bokuto had fallen right onto you and you both fell over with a thump. You expected it to hurt but his hand was supporting your head to break the fall. You gasp at the proximity and try to scooch your way out from under him to no avail.

“Bokuto, we need to get up. Can you stand?”

He lets out a muffled sound of annoyance and you sigh. So this was the oh so tough Bokuto Kōtarō? He was more like a big baby. Your brows furrowed as you stared down at the man lying atop you and you felt an indescribable urge to touch his hair. The hair he had put up with gel was now tousled and undone. You cautiously ran your fingers through his hair and he hummed in response beneath you.

This was wrong on so many levels. This was your first day meeting your boss and you were already stuck in this intimate position. His hair is so soft omfg. You continued to feel his hair when he jostles from beneath you.

“What’s happening?” His groggy voice interrupts the the silent atmosphere and you’re now 50 shades of red.

“F-FORGIVE ME SIR!!! YOU FELL ON TOP OF ME AND I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!”

You didn’t want to get fired on your first day so you figured some sort of explanation was in order.

Bokuto doesn’t appear to be listening but instead, he’s rubbing his eyes and squinting at you as if to make out who you were and why you were in his office.

“Ah, I see. Thank you for your help then,” he checks his watch, “it’s 3am, let me take you home.”

“Is that alright? No offence but, you’ve had way too many beers tonight. I’d feel safer if you let me drive you home.”

Surprisingly, you were met with little argument and soon enough, both of you were cooped up in your little ride. You started up your car and was about to ask him where his house was when you turned to see a dead asleep Bokuto by your side.

Once you got there, Bokuto was snoring loudly and you had to hull his heavy body towards your door. All your volleyball practice in the past literally amounted to you being able to carry your boss into your house at 3 in the morning.

You flopped his body onto your couch as you tried to catch your breath. You stared at him for a moment and you couldn’t help but think that he must’ve been so uncomfortable in his work clothes. You chastised yourself for your next thought, and what happened next was a surprise.

You started loosening up his tie and unbuttoning the top of his shirt. You could feel his chest muscles brush against your knuckles everytime you undid a button and hear his breathing turn into a slow and steady rhythm.

After you were done helping him, you stood to get ready for bed when a strong hand gripped onto your wrist and pulled you downwards. The force wasn’t enough to make you fall but you quickly turned your head to your sleeping boss.

He was still fast asleep, but his body was shaking and his forehead was creased as though he were in a lot of pain.

“Father, please, please don’t go..” he whispers. His voice trailed off and you can hear the slight crack in his voice.

You felt as though you heard something you weren’t supposed to hear or unlocked and emotion that wasn’t meant to be seen by a mere assistant.

When he wouldn’t let go of your wrist, you settled for sitting on the floor beside him. When the twitching and murmuring didn’t stop for another couple minutes, you find yourself stroking his hair again. He’s calming down and his slumber is becoming peaceful.

Before you know it, you’re falling asleep right on the floor with your new boss gripping tightly onto your wrist.

You awoke to the sun beams from your living room window. Your eyes are squinting as they try to adjust to the light and you look around the room. And oh my lord the sight before you was not one you see everyday. You were on your couch wrapped in a button-up with your SHIRTLESS BOSS MAKING BREAKFAST IN YOUR KITCHEN???? What in the wattpad is happening??? Wrong platform

“U-um, Bokuto-san, what’s going on?” You ask meekly.

“Oh, good morning Ms. l/n. I hope you like bacon and eggs because that’s all I know how to make,” he says nonchalantly.

“Anything is fine but, would you like your shirt back?”

You hastily unwrap yourself from his shirt and drape it over his shoulders. He’s significantly taller than you so you’re on your tippy toes trying to reach him.

He’s looking at you with gentle eyes before focusing on the eggs once more.

You’re a flustered mess as you make your way into the bathroom. How did this happen? Last time you checked, you had placed Bokuto onto the couch and was sitting on the floor beside him while your sleep talking boss held onto your wrist. He must’ve moved you when he woke up. His cologne lingered on your skin from where his shirt touched you.

You’re looking in the mirror and you look like a mess. Your hair that was once tucked neatly into a bun was undone. Your makeup had smeared and your clothes were ruffled. Oh god your boss had seen you in this state.

You quickly tidied up and put on the only other clothing that was appropriate for your office job which so happened to be a blouse and pencil skirt that sat snuggly on all your curves. You couldn’t lie, you looked smoking hot.

You mustered up the courage to face your boss and was met with a pair of astonished eyes. He was looking you up and down as though he were meeting someone new. Your hair was too messy to put back into a bun so you were left with brushing it down enough so that it looked like natural waves. You were never insecure about your looks before, but the eyes of this man made you feel naked.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and said, “um, are you ready to go now?”

Bokuto clears his throat at your words and nods his head.

As you arrived to the building, you could feel the eyes of all the other employees glued to you in confusion as the two of you stepped out of the car together. Bokuto had already switched to cold-mode and walked towards to the entrance without waiting for you. Poor cinnamon roll was left to fend off the judgemental coworkers alone. But could you blame them? They were used to their big boss never interacting with anyone unless it was business related but here he was, coming out of a girl’s car with unkempt hair and wrinkly shirt.

As you caught up to Bokuto, you tried to strike a conversation in hopes of easing the tension but he was definitely in no mood to talk. His eyes were glued to the direction he was walking in and he always seemed to march a few strides ahead of you as if you keep you at a distance. No one would believe you if you told them that this man was the one cooking you breakfast this morning. Not that you’d tell anyone, though. You had enough on your plate without having people assuming that you slept your way to the top.

When you both reached his office, he was at his desk starting his paperwork with no instruction for you.

You stood in silence for a couple minutes before speaking up, “excuse me Bokuto, what do you suppose I do in the meantime?”

He glanced up quickly and stared at you with boredom.

“I’ve printed out sheets of this month’s financial report. Please go retrieve them for me.”

“Of course,” you reply as you scurry to do just that.

The retrieval of the report was an easy enough task and you wanted to be efficient in returning but you were stopped by a familiar coworker.

“Y/n-chan, I heard you’ve been promoted to the big boss’s right hand woman. Looks like I’ll have no way to look at your sweet ass anymore, huh?”

“Terushima-kun, I am in no mood for any of your games right now. Please move aside.”

He’s smirking now and backs you up against a wall with one arm beside your head.

“Don’t get too cocky sweetheart. Just because you’re our boss’s bitch now doesn’t make you any better than the rest of us,” Terushima whispers against your ear.

You’re now hugging the papers close to your chest as some form of protection. You whimper and close your eyes as you feel his hand caress your cheek but it’s cut short when a big figure cuts in between you and Terushima.

Bokuto is standing in front of you and gripping onto the hand that was once caressing your face. Terushima’s expression shifted to one of fear as he began to realize what was happening.

“B-boss! What’s up? It’s a lovely day isn’t it?”

“Save it,” Bokuto sneers at him, “you’re lucky I don’t fire you right here and now. The next time you decide to harass my assistant, you better consider the consequences because next time, I won’t be so generous.”

Bokuto releases Terushima’s hand and grabs onto yours as he drags you away.

“Sir! Thank you for the help!”

He doesn’t reply until you reach his office. He kind of looks irritated as he stares at the floor.

“Bokuto-san! You were so badass back there! Thank you so much for saving me. And oh! I got your papers!” You exclaim with a bright smile on your face.

You’re pushing the stack towards him in earnest and he’s staring at you like you’re giving him the moon.

He suddenly bursts into laughter, “you were almost harassed and you’re praising me?”

His laugh sounds childish and genuine. When he laughs, his face lights up like a kid that has just got a new toy.

“But it really was cool, huh? I was so ready to punch the guy. Mannn that rush of adrenaline brings back so many memories!” Bokuto is going on like you’ve never seen before.

Your eyes are starry as you stare at the enthusiastic Bokuto. When he catches you staring in amusement, he is quick to fix his tie and shift back to business mode.

“Ahem, anyway. What’s done is done. Let’s get back to work.”

The moment was nice while it lasted. You felt as though you had seen a side of Bokuto that has not been awakened for a long time. You glanced at him occasionally while sorting the paperwork, and although he did not look back, you could see the slight trace of a smile on his lips everytime you stared.

Oh boy, you were in for a long ride. And you weren’t complaining. There was definitely more in store for you and your cold-hearted boss...

a/n: come back for part 2 coming soon!!! :)))

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zanesgirlfriend · 6 years ago

Text

History Repeats | Jeff Wittek

2k follower special 💜

A/N: I just wanted to say thank you for all the love and support, I've been working on this for a while and decided to make it a special thing for hitting 2k ahh but thank yall for bearing with me through all my little breaks and late uploads and stuff even tho I'm literally a nobody so thank yall okok I'm done pls enjoy

Word Count: 6.2k

Triggers: Cheating, swearing, stuff like that ya know

Special shout out to @vlouge-squad for helping me edit this!!

_____

The heat of dancing bodies wrapped around Jeff like a blanket. A bead of sweat trickled down the bridge of his nose as he forced himself through the crowd. He nodded to the bartender as he sat on a creaky barstool, wondering if he was suddenly too old to go out to clubs like this.

Y/n was thinking the same thing, no idea that her ex boyfriend was a few seats down from her. She hadn't seen Jeff since the day he left New York. Promising to call her when he landed, only to block her number and never speak to her again. She wasn't mad anymore. They'd had their fair share of fights, breakups and makeups, and they knew long distance wasn't going to work.

She wouldn't've even noticed him if it wasn't for her roommate Katy. They'd played the same game every time they went out, giving people a job and a backstory and a silly name, and it was Katy's turn.

"Oh fuck he's hot." She attempted to subtly point Jeff out to y/n. "Um, Brad, twenty-five, Male model, from Oklahoma. Got his start modeling for billboards."

"Wrong." Her words sounded playful but really they had a lot of meaning. She scanned Jeff's body, his face, his hair, as she corrected Katy. "He's a Jeff, twenty-nine, probably the dead body in the background of Law and Order, cuts hair on the side of his shitty acting career, from New York."

"O-M-G you're right." Katy laughed as she continued to eye the man.

"Did you just say O-M-G out loud? Maybe you should chill on the White Russian's." She took Katy's glass and slid it away from them before guiding her slightly drunk friend away from the bar. Katy was highly buzzed at best, but y/n didn't want Jeff to have the chance to notice her.

She was distracted the rest of the night, busy thinking of the very first time she saw Jeff. It was like history was repeating itself.

It was a cold night in New York. The first snowfall of the year. Y/n wasn't prepared and had nothing but a long-sleeved shirt on. She blamed this on her friends dog, who'd incidentally stolen her phone and chewed through it like candy. She couldn't check the weather, and nobody'd told her it was going to snow.

She shivered, her arms folded over one another, tight to her chest in attempt to keep her torso warm. She was walking home, not willing to spend her rent money on a cab to her apartment six blocks away.

"Do you need a ride?" He pulled up next to her, his head hanging out the window. She wasn't going to take a ride from a stranger, especially at night. She watched his breath form clouds as it hit the cool air.

"No, thank you." She nodded and continued walking. He drove alongside her slowly.

"Look, I'm not gonna kidnap you, I just don't want you to freeze to death."

She took a moment to really look at the guy. She was cold, and didn't really enjoy walking alone. His eyes looked kind and his hair flopped in such a way that made her trust him. But not enough to get in the car. "Even if you were gonna kidnap me, I don't think you'd tell me. Really, I'm fine."

He sighed and she wondered what he was doing as he popped his head back in the window. He took his sweatshirt off and held it out the window.

"Take it."

"No, I can't." She wanted to take it, but she felt bad. "It's yours."

"And now it's yours. Just take it." So she did. It smelled like expensive cologne and it was fairly warm from his body heat.

"Thank you." She smiled. He returned a grin as he drove off.

The memories made her smile. Katy noticed how bubbly she became as they took an Uber home. "What got into you?" She nudged y/n with a teasing tone.

"I just remembered some things that made me happy, that's all."

Later that night, y/n woke up in a cold sweat. She was hugging her pillow and all of her blankets were on the floor. Whispered words tickled her throat as she spoke.

"Jeff."

♤♡◇♧

They say that everybody in L.A. goes to therapy. Whether it be that they actually have a problem needing fixed, or just need someone trustworthy to talk to. In y/n's case, it was the latter. Katy was a blabbermouth, and to be fair, she wasn't very good at solving problems. She had too many problems of her own.

"Something about seeing him was so surreal. It's like I can't unseen him."

"And how did seeing him again make you feel?" Dr. R. asked her, posing her pen near the top of her notepad.

"Angry, and then happy, and then sad." She paused, rethinking her words. "More like I was upset over breaking up, well, the way we broke up, and then I missed him."

"Do you still miss him now?" She asked without looking up from her notepad.

"I could lie and say that I don't, but I dreamt about him last night, so I think I do." Y/n brought her knees up to her chest, sitting in a comfortable ball in the oversized chair. Dr. R. noticed her change in position. She wrote a few more things down, circling something.

"What happened in your dream?" She finally looked up at y/n.

She smiled before answering. "I usually never remember my dreams, but this one was different. It's not that I can't remember it all, it's that everything was a blur. We were just laying together. Cuddling in bed. Then everything was going in slow motion. He kissed me, and it was so comforting. And then it all went blurry again until he got up and left." She sighed. "And that's when I woke up."

Dr. R. flipped a page or two back in her notes, putting a dot next to something y/n mentioned before. "When you two broke up, it wasn't mutual, correct?"

"No, it wasn't." She hugged her knee's a little tighter.

"I think your dream was bringing those feelings back. Cuddling with him was how you felt before he left, and then when he left, you probably woke up upset, didn't you?"

Y/n nodded. "I'm more upset now that I didn't talk to him at the bar." She picked at the loose string on the cuff of her sleeve. "I wonder if he would even recognize me."

"He will."

On the drive home y/n thought about Dr. R., how she was more like a wise old lady sitting on a porch at the end of your street. Of course, she had her therapist moments, but at the end of the day she was just a nice person to talk to.

She then started to think more about Jeff. He's in L.A. Did he finally make it as an actor? She hadn't seen him in anything. Before she got out of her car she whipped out her phone.

Jeff Wittek

Millions of results in seconds. His Instagram, Twitter, YouTube. Millions of followers. A past girlfriend, clips of him on various TV shows. The name David Dobrik seems attached to the most recent things.

She sat in her car for thirty minutes, obsessing over him. Over everything he's involved in.

She finds the Dobrik kid and laughs. His videos are hilarious, and he seems to be one of Jeff's current friends.

If only she could find a way to get in touch.

She didn't want to be creepy, obsessive, or a virtual stalker, but she couldn't help but see what Jeff's been up to.

By the end of her internet search, she couldn't help but feel she was doing something wrong. She felt dirty.

She deleted her search history, and went inside to take a shower.

♤♡◇♧

It'd been weeks. Months even. She'd stopped thinking about him shortly after her session with Dr. R., but he still appeared in her dreams every once in a while. She figured if she ever did see him again, it would be in passing at a party or another bar like it was before. She never expected to see him at the top of a mountain.

Katy was on a new health kick, and that meant dragging y/n along with her. They'd been to a cycling class five times this week, and y/n wanted to do something else.

"Let's go on a hike." She told Katy, reminiscing the days back home where she would hike in Latourette Park.

They found a hiking spot right outside of Los Angeles. "Do you want to go the easy path or the hard one?" Y/n asked, feeling like she could do both.

"I ate cheese fries last night, so let's do the hard one." Katy took a left onto the hard path and y/n rolled her eyes as she followed.

They saw a group of men and a dog up ahead, but didn't pay much attention as they were gossiping about people they knew from work and Katy's recent ex-boyfriend. The path was harder than y/n expected, and she was dripping with sweat by the time they'd gotten halfway up.

"We're never doing this again." Katy panted as she wiped her forehead. Y/n laughed.

"No, we need to do it more often."

"Why? This is torture enough!" Katy pulled on her ponytail, making it a bit tighter.

"The more we do it, the easier it'll get, come on." She pressed forward, dragging Katy up the mountain.

They noticed the guys once again. They were stood at the top of the trail, looking over L.A. and undoubtedly taking a break. It wasn't until the girls drew nearer to them that y/n noticed Jeff.

"Can we go back now? I'm tired." Y/n asked Katy, not wanting to see Jeff ever again.

"What? No! We're so close to the top, and there's cute guys up there." Katy grabbed y/n's wrist forcefully, dragging her towards the top.

"Ow, Katy!" She screamed. "Fine, we'll go." Y/n trudged up to the top of the trail, rubbing her wrist the whole time. She'd never thought of Katy as someone to use force, but she couldn't expect less based on the sexual stories they'd shared in the past.

The closer they got, the more attention they got. Jeff was the last one to turn around.

"It's you." He whispered, smiling. He'd forgotten all of the negative feelings of their past relationship. The familiarity of y/n's face brought an intense emotion to Jeff's chest.

Y/n, on the other hand, didn't feel the same, but something about the way he said "It's you." reminded her of how they found eachother the first time.

She was doing a typical walk of shame. It was six in the morning. Her heels hanging loosely from her fingers as she tugged on her cocktail dress. She should've planned a bit better, or at least stored emergency cash in her bra for a cab. The party she went to wasn't far from her apartment, but walking two miles with a hangover isn't ideal. She was halfway there. Ignoring the stares and mutterings from strangers was harder the more she woke up, and she just wanted to be home.

"Hey! It's you!" The familiar man rolled down his window once again. This time he was laughing.

"Hey." She smiled a bit and her head hung loosely from her neck. "Did you want your sweatshirt back?"

"No, you keep it. Did you want a ride this time?" The way he smiled made her trust him. If he was going to kidnap her, he would've done it the first time.

"Yeah, sure." She hopped in the passengers seat and told him where she lived.

"Have a long night?" He asked her as he pressed his foot lightly on the gas. He would usually speed down this road, but he wanted as much time with her as possible.

"You could say that." She looked down at her lap, not sure of his intentions, before she realized she didn't even know his name. "I'm y/n." She introduced herself, studying his brown hair and clean shaven beard.

"Jeff." He nodded slightly as he turned into the apartment complex.

"Y/n." His voice snapped her back into reality.

"Jeff." She said, as if she hadn't been thinking about him for the past month.

"You know him?" Katy asked, remembering his face from the bar that night.

"Yeah, she knows me." Jeff walked a bit closer to them, a small dog waddling after him. "This is Nerf." He introduced his dog to Katy, already seeing that he'd need to distract her to be able to talk to y/n. It worked, Katy bent down and baby talked the little guy as Jeff pulled y/n into a hug.

"Jeff." She repeated. She didn't know if she wanted to hug him, or wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

"What're you doin' out here?" His accent was still as strong as ever. Y/n's seemed to fade for the most part as soon as she was out of Staten Island, but Katy still made fun of her for the way she pronounced 'coffee.'

"I have a job out here, production assistant." Her smile seemed hard and uninviting, but she was starting to warm up to him again.

"Hey, give me your number, maybe we can catch up sometime?" He noticed his friends were itching to leave so he rushed things along.

"It's the same as it's been for years. You probably still have it memorized." She waved him off with towards his friends, wondering if he actually still remembered it.

"Who was that?" Todd asked Jeff as he fell back into the group.

"Just an ex-girlfriend." He said, attempting to remember her number.

"Can I get your number? So if you need a ride again you can just call." Jeff was smooth as she held a hand on the door to his car.

"My phone's broken." She said. Jeff thought it was a lie at first, but something in her eyes told him that it was true.

"That's okay, we'll be seeing eachother again." He laughed a bit as her brows knitted together.

"How do you know that?" Her hand landed on her hip, heels still dangling from her fingers. She watched as Jeff turned off his car and got out.

"This is my apartment building too."

And so they saw eachother again. And again. And again. And one day she got a new phone.

"I don't have a pen, can you memorize it?" She asked Jeff on their third date. He'd left his phone at a friends house, but didn't want to forget to grab her number.

"I can try." He flashed his famous smile as she repeated the numbers. He made up a little song to remember it.

"What are you humming?" Todd asked Jeff as they continued down the trail back to their car.

"Just an old song I know."

♤♡◇♧

Dr. R. didn't think seeing Jeff again was a good idea, but she didn't explicitly state that y/n shouldn't go. So they met for coffee.

Jeff was a few minutes early, already sipping on an Americano when y/n walked into the small café. The smell of fresh coffee tickled her nose as she walked over to Jeff.

"I got you your favorite." He pushed a cup towards her as he studied her face. She looked a lot different than when they used to date. She was more mature, and you could see it in her eyes. There'd been a big change in her life, maybe it was Jeff leaving her, but he wanted to find out.

Her lips spread into a small smile as she tasted her favorite drink. It had the right amount of sugar and flavor and cream, and she made a mental note of that.

Her chair was a bit uncomfortable, the metal back cold on her shoulder blades, so she sat up straight, probably looking like she was trying too hard to present herself as perfect.

"I'm sorry." He admitted, it was the right thing to say.

"I'd hope so." Her voice was quiet, she felt small compared to him.

Awkward silence ensued, but neither of them had much to say. She looked down at her lap, but he bore his eyes into her. He missed her, and he wanted her to be his once again.

Just like that they were back. It was as if something clicked into place and they picked up right where they left off.

♤♡◇♧

He was so familiar. Everything about him was exactly the same, but also extraordinarily different. They fell in love all over again, spending nights just studying eachother, and taking pop quizzes on how much they remembered from the first time around.

It was 2am, they stayed up a little late, smoking some weed and playing cards.

"Why do you have all the puppy toes?" Jeff slammed his cards on the bed, frustrated that he was losing by a mile.

"Oh my God, I haven't heard that in years." She glanced over her straight. Every card was in the suit of clubs, and she smiled as she looked back up at Jeff.

"Probably because I'm the only person that calls clubs 'puppy toes'."

I remember when you first said it, I couldn't stop laughing.

"My grandma taught me how to play cards, but I could never remember the suits." Jeff started as y/n dealt. They power went out and they had nothing better to do, so why not play cards?

"What'd she make up a song or something?" She laughed, placing the deck to her left and flipping a card over before picking up her hand.

"Well the diamonds and hearts were easy, but she called the spades 'spearheads' and the clubs 'puppy toes,' you know, 'cause they look like little paw prints."

Y/n burst out into a fit of laughter, the words 'puppy toes' exiting her mouth between wheezes.

"Why is that so funny?" Jeff couldn't help but laugh, her happiness was contagious.

"Because she could've called them 'paws' or 'paw prints' but instead she called them 'puppy toes!'"

She was wheezing all over again at the memory. "I still dont understand why it's so funny." Jeff felt comfortable, like they were reliving old times, sitting forever in a happy memory.

Her laughter died down and they were stuck for a moment, staring at eachother.

"I love you, all over again, more than the first time." Jeff's stare bore into her eyes. His words usually sounded flat, perfect to go along with his dry, deadpan sense of humor, but he sounded real this time. He sounded more human.

"I don't think I ever stopped loving you." Y/n replied, dropping the cards, a pile of puppy toes laying between them as she kissed him. Soon she moved, climbing into his lap, sloppy yet fulfilling kisses occupied their faces. Jeff's hands did most of the work, tickling her lightly as they slid up her thighs, around the curves of her ass. His long fingers hooked onto her shirt as his hands continued upward. They disconnected for a moment as her shirt passed over her head.

Jeff leaned back, bringing her with him. Her shorts rode up as she grinded on him, feeling him grow beneath her.

She missed the feeling of his skin on hers, so much that she was glued to him. Bare. Skin on Skin. No protection as her chest stuck to his. He felt her breasts bouncing as he moved her hips up and down on his own.

They both felt cloudy, a nice fog through their brains, the weed channeling all focus to the sensations shared between them.

They were loud. Screaming, moaning, happy, euphoric.

She'd later tell her therapist that it was the best sex she'd ever had, hell the best sex they'd ever had. Her therapist would congratulate her, not really knowing what else to say.

They finished together. Ending up as a heaping pile of skin and juices. They breathed for a moment.

Holding onto eachother like they'd never been held before.

Ten minutes later they were holding hands, naked, and staring at the ceiling. They felt so vulnerable, yet so comfortable with eachother.

"I'm sober now." Jeff confessed. "I know we just smoked weed, but I haven't drank alcohol in months." He was already looking at her when she turned to him.

"Really?"

"Really."

It wasn't the pillow talk she expected, but it was something she needed to hear. She immediately trusted him, and felt like her choice in getting back together with him was justified.

But she couldn't help but think of the first time they broke up.

He blamed it on being drunk. A picture from some anonymous number depicted Jeff face fucking some random chick. Y/n was furious. She felt her heart shatter for the first time when she saw the picture. She knew it was real, and it was recent. He'd just gotten that new tattoo, it was still scabbed over in the picture. She'd put ointment on it for him just a few minutes prior to recieving the horrid image.

She was speechless. Having nothing yet everything to say to him.

Still, he blamed it on being drunk.

They were apart for three weeks. She hoped he had enough time to get it out of his system before he begged for her forgiveness. She missed him, and reluctantly took him back.

That was the first time.

"Thank you for telling me that." She squeezed his hand lightly before getting up to pee.

Laying on his chest, she realized why she'd missed him all this time. It was the tiny little things that made her happy. She made some stupid joke, referencing an old inside joke that only they knew about. The way she could feel his laughter through his chest. She wouldn't even mind being deaf as long as she could still feel his laughter, feel him. Everything was how it was supposed to be.

♤♡◇♧

Things were perfect for a while.

Katy had her own minor crush on Jeff, but y/n trusted her, and knew she just thought he was hot, nothing more. Y/n loved Jeff's friends. They were hilarious and they made her feel like she'd been friends with them for years.

They welcomed her to the group with open arms, as did Jeff's fans. His fans didn't know what to think of her at first, and she'd seen her name tossed around on a few gossip sites, but overall everything was good.

Things were perfect until they weren't.

♤♡◇♧

She always had a deep-seated feeling of unease when she wasn't with Jeff. She trusted him, and his soberness, but there was still that fear. Fear, sitting inside of her chest, like a child hiding from its mom in the coat racks of a department store.

She knew the kid was there, and that it would come out eventually.

The fear always dissipated when she was with Jeff, when they were just hanging out alone. She had nothing to worry about.

They'd been back together for three months. Three wonderful months of laughter and learning and loving and sex.

Jeff surprised her, a bouquet of flowers and a loving note telling her to be ready by seven.

She got dressed up, smiling to herself in the mirror before answering the door. Jeff kissed her and took her out to dinner.

It was lovely, a cute little date at a fancy restaurant, and time alone with her boyfriend. Jeff was expecting sex after their date. Y/n was too, but their plans got thrown off after dinner. The new guy at the restaurant hadn't cleaned her protein properly, leaving her and a handful of other patrons to take off work for the next week. Food poisoning was a bitch.

"I don't feel good." She told Jeff. He took her home, promising to stay with her and make sure she was okay.

She puked her guts out, drank the juice he gave her, and passed out in her bed. He could feel her sickness in the air, and did not want to sleep next to her, but he promised he would stay, so he grabbed a pillow and a blanket and headed out onto the couch in the living room.

"Hey." He sat next to Katy who was watching some girly movie on the TV.

"Did you get in a fight?" She pointed at the pillow and chuckled.

"No, she just doesn't feel good." He smiled. He'd never spent much time with Katy, but he did know she was a simple creature. She lived and breathed Starbucks and glitter, and he couldn't handle too much of her at once. She was gorgeous, though, he couldn't deny that.

It was late, and something about the hours between morning and night when the world is quiet just changes people. They get sloppy, don't think straight. They feel free, almost a little too free, like anything the do could be done without consequences.

It was almost like being drunk on freedom.

Y/n woke up to her stomach grumbling once again. Not in the 'Hey! I'm hungry!' kind of way, but as if her stomach was mad at her. She sat up and pulled her sweat-soaked shirt from her body. She felt horrible.

She wandered out into the living room and towards the kitchen of their small apartment, wondering if there was any Pepto Bismol laying around. She opened the fridge, the light inside causing her to squint.

The three-sided bottle was lodged in the door and she grabbed it, quickly chugging the small amount of pink liquid left. As she closed the fridge she heard something. Giggling.

Her head whipped around towards the couch, noticing Jeff's absence. She wondered for a moment if he left, but his phone was on the table.

She'd forgotten all about her food poisoning as she creeped up to the door of Katy's room.

Her breathing stopped as she attempted to be as quiet as possible.

"Jeff!" She heard Katy giggle, a little moan following it.

"Shh, you're gonna wake her up!"

Y/n stood there for a long time. Hearing every skin slap and giggle and moan. Random word seemed to stick in her head as she listened.

Condom. Jeff. She never has to know. I'm gonna cum.

She didn't know how long she'd been there, or when she started crying, but eventually she was back in her bed, pretending to sleep as Jeff peeked in to check on her.

Her heart was broken. It had already been hastily taped back together the other three times Jeff broke her heart, but now it was gone. There was no more tape.

She felt like she died. Like her soul was gone. She was wretching for air like a fish out of water. Suffocating in her own tears. The only thing she could do was cry.

"You knew this would happen." She told herself as she sat up. She couldn't sleep, between puking and heartbreak, she was the most exhausted yet awake she'd ever been. Her sadness had turned into anger and a fuck-it attitude.

"Once a cheater always a cheater. Fucking fuck!" Her whispers to herself were harsh as she opened her laptop, finding the first flight home. She needed to be home, where it all started. Where she was before she even met him. She'd forgotten about him once, and she could do it again.

She booked the flight. She had two suitcases and a duffle bag, each filled to the brim with things she wanted and needed. All the stupid movie tickets from her and Jeff's dates were left on her dresser. Pictures of her and Katy long abandoned were thrown into a drawer. She left what she could live without, and left what would remind her of them.

She had her things and her uber was arriving soon. She quickly wrote a check, this months rent, tossing it on the messy bed. She had an idea right as she was leaving and grabbed a post-it note. She couldn't decide which cliche was better, but eventually she settled on one.

They always said that history repeats itself, and I never believed them.

Now I do. ♡

She moved her bags to the front door and placed the sticky note on Jeff's phone. He was passed out on the couch, the rising sunlight just starting to hit his face.

She stared at him for a few moments. He was beautiful. She loved so many things about him. She wondered if she was making a mistake, but then she remembered what he did. She'd given him a second chance, hell, a hundred second chances, and he still fucked it up.

She'd blamed it on the alcohol before, but she knew full well he was completely sober last night.

♤♡◇♧

The driver put her bags in the trunk and started towards the airport. She figured her mom wouldn't mind a surprise and the opportunity to have her around for a few weeks until she got her shit together. And sometimes you just need your mom. You need her to hold you like you're still little, like you scraped your knee up real bad and she was the only thing that would make you feel better.

The sun was fully up now. Jeff would be awake soon, and she couldn't tell if he would call or not. Would he call to try and stop her? Or would he simply not care?

She checked her phone, simply for the time, or maybe a text, and noticed her wallpaper. A picture of her and Jeff. She was kissing his cheek. She hated the way her faced looked in that picture, but the way Jeff looked was more important than that at the time. He was smiling. Dimples poking through his beard. His eyes looked kind and filled with love. She couldn't even stand to look at him anymore, but she didn't have the heart to change the picutre.

She decided that she was the one who didn't care and turned her phone off. The only two people she talked to had betrayed her and she didn't want to hear from them.

The farther she got from Jeff, the more the sadness set in. She stared out the window dramatically, thinking about him and how this whole situation seemed like a cheesy music video.

A thought crossed her mind as they drove past a car dealership. All the cars seemed so shiny, so perfect as they sat there, but once you buy it, once it's yours, things change. It's no longer a perfect new car. It's nice for a while, sure, but eventually theres a spider nest under the back seat, a few stray fries in the cupholder, some bird shit on the roof that nobody would notice for months.

Everything seemed perfect until it was yours. You ruin it. You don't take care of it the way you should. Even if the inside is impeccable, there's always the bird shit on the roof.

♤♡◇♧

She was forced to turn on her phone and see his face when the flight landed. She was in the back of a cab as she cancelled her therapy sessions for the next month. Of course, it seemed logical that now would be the time for therapy, and Dr. R. offered to host video sessions, but y/n wasn't thinking logically. She was thinking about getting home, crying into her mom's arms, and crawling into a cave of blankets and pillows for a few weeks.

Tears were already flowing as she walked up to the door. "Y/n!" She opened the door, excited at first to see her, but her tone changing as soon as she saw the state her daughter was in. "Baby." She opened her arms and y/n jumped right into the hug, wailing as she cried.

"I thought he was different." Her words were muffled by her mother's sweater.

"Let's run you a bath."

♤♡◇♧

It'd been a few days back home, and the news had spread that y/n was back and sad, and the kitchen was filled with casserole dishes full of lasagna and baked ziti from her mother's friends. The food was delicious, but she couldn't help but be reminded of Jeff every time she took a bite. The abundance of food was meant as condolences, as it always was in an Italian, New York neighborhood, and y/n knew this. It made her even more sad, sad that everyone knew and everything was going to shit.

"Can you go through your old clothes today? Geanie's daughter. . ." Y/n stopped listening and agreed, not really interested in the backstory of someone she'd met once when she was eighteen, or her supposed daughter.

The thing about heartbreak is that it's all you can think about, all you can feel, but the hardest part is forgetting, letting go, and getting over it. She attempted to remember how she got through it the first time.

"You have to accomplish one thing at a time." Her mom plopped down on her bed. Jeff was gone and he wouldn't talk to her. He'd blocked her number. He abandoned her. Left her in the dust as he went off to L.A. to get rich. She did feel abandoned, like everything she'd done the past few years was for nothing. The second chance she'd given him before was now worthless, and she wondered why she did it in the first place.

"Do you hear me? One thing a day. One thing at a time until you're okay again." Y/n looked up at her mother and nodded. "Today you're taking a shower."

Her one thing today would be sorting through clothes. Maybe finding some tshirt from college that would make her smile. So she spent the day on her bed, three tubs of clothes poured out in front of her, and a comedy special playing on the TV. She chuckled a bit every now and then, actually enjoying herself until she found something at the bottom of the pile.

Jeff's sweatshirt. The one that started it all.

"Take it." Jeff held the sweatshirt out of his window.

"No, I can't, it's yours." but she took it anyway.

It was a plain sweatshirt, nothing exciting, but she knew it was his by the stain on the hem. She'd always wondered what it was from, but never really found the time to ask. She held the cotton against her face, the scent climbing up into her nose. Of course it just smelled like her other old clothes, it'd been years, but she swore that if she sniffed hard enough, she could smell him. Not the Jeff she knew now, but the one that pulled up next to her on the street. The sweet guy that didn't want her to freeze to death. The shiny new car she was yet to buy.

She was crying now, holding the sweatshirt to her chest. A faint knock on the door downstairs was heard, but she paid no attention. It was probably just another baked ziti being delivered from her mom's card playing partner.

"Y/n!" Her mom called, alarming her. It wasn't another ziti. She wiped her eyes and headed down stairs, stopping when she saw who it was.

"I just wanna talk." Jeff pleaded. The anger and sadness filled her chest again and she continued down the stairs.

"Talk about how you cheated on me with my best friend?" The sharpness of her words made his heart hurt. He stepped inside, her mother closing the door before disappearing into the kitchen.

"You don't understand-" He started, but y/n wasn't having it.

"Don't understand what? That you slept with her while I was fucking sick? You couldn't fucking wait until I felt better?" She was screaming in his face, tears rolling down her cheeks, traveling the familiar path.

"Y/n-"

"No, let me fucking talk." She took a deep breath. "You told me you were sober. I fucking loved you for that. I thought that you wouldn't hurt me anymore. I fucking trusted you. A lot.

"Do you know how many second chances I've given you? because I've lost count. I'm over it. I'm done with you. Don't even try to tell me that she forced you into it because I know that's not true. I know you. I know what goes on in your brain. You fucking piece of shit."

Jeff was stunned. He didn't know what to say, or why he wanted her back. He knew he fucked up. He knew that he loved her. He knew what he felt for her, even still after all these years.

"You have to understand my feelings for you, and-" His words had no meaning to her, she wanted him gone, out of sight.

"Fuck you, and your feelings. Get out." She pointed towards the door. He stood still so she started pushing him. "Get out, just get the fuck out!" She screamed, barely moving his body.

"I love you!" He screamed back, now holding her shoulders in place. Her eyes locked with his. Hers were full of emotion, depth, deep sadness. His were nothing of the sort. They looked hollow, empty, only a tiny spark of emotion barely flickering through them. That was enough for her to know his true feelings.

"If you loved me we never would've broken up in the first place." She pushed him off of her, her voice quivering as she crossed him to open the door.

"You said in your note that history repeats, but it doesn't have to. We can change history. We can forget it all." He attempted to use her own words as a way to get through to her, but she was smarter than that.

"I already have forgotten it all, a million times over. I've let you back in only for the same shit to happen again. You can't change the past, Jeff." She turned and ran upstairs, grabbing his sweatshirt off her bed. He was walking down the driveway when she called his name. He thought for a moment that she'd changed her mind, that she did still want him.

"I don't need you to keep me warm anymore." She threw it at him, hitting him in the face. He let it fall to the ground, a tear falling from his eye as he looked back at her.

She slammed the door shut and there he was.

Left alone, back right where it all started.

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