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burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

Text

split

— Shouto becomes victim of a quirk accident. In that he become two people who get along as well as fire and ice do. They clash at every moment, and only seem to agree on one thing: their love for you. Or in which Shouto gets split into two by a quirk that spilts chimeras and in order for peace to be found you find yourself in a threesome with two halves that make the one you love most.

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pairing: split!todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, threesome, split!shouto, anal, double penetration, blowjob, rimming, cunnilingus, cursing, degradation, praise

word count: 8,930

a/n: LMAOOOOOO this waas actually fun to write the names I gave them were super easy because I am uncreative. I used an anons rec for shoutos hero name: reisho so that’s what that is. and thank you to my lovely canasian for finding the original drabble I wrote. pls enjoy!

kinktober day 6 main kink: threesome

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“What’s going on?”

It was a series of words that often came out of your mouth because, as a Pro Hero, there were many times where you had no idea what was going on. It usually ranged from asking why Kaminari and Kirishima were giggling and avoiding your gaze when you walked into a room to coming onto an active battle where Bakugou and Midoriya were bloodied and crazed. There was nothing off-limits to those words, as they were, after all, said in complete confusion.

“Where is he?!” you tried again, watching as nineteen different eyes look everywhere but at you.

However, it was without given when you watched your twenty -- wait, was that twenty-one? -- former classmates both stumble into one another as they turn to face you.

“Y/l/n-chan!” Mina squeaked, stepping up from the crowd, trying to cover up the two people in there that you couldn’t quite recognize as your classmates. “How was patrol? I heard that Todoroki-kun left you midway!”

You wished that last comment didn’t make your cheeks burn as intensely as it did.

Today had been one of the rare days that you had gone off on your route with your boyfriend, Todoroki Shouto. Both of you watched the busy streets and whispering between yourself as you avoided the masses, not wanting to get caught up with fan interactions that were rather unneeded. But there had been a large altercation that required Shouto’s expertise. Specifically, the voice at headquarters commanded that you stay on patrol while Shouto would leave. So you had watched as Shouto placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb softly petting your cheek, his smile warm.

“I’ll be back,” he had promised before taking off in a mist of ice and fire.

You continued the rest of your patrol with a rather childish pout on your face, you hadn’t enjoyed being sidelined like this, but you calmly assessed the situation. It probably wasn’t a fight you would be much aid in, and there was never a reason to send more than enough heroes onto a single area. But your route was coming to an end, and Shouto had still yet to reappear. Trying not to overthink it, you frowned while passing a store with TVs out in front.

Staring at the bright, flashing screen, you suddenly felt a sense of panic at the headliner: Chimera Quirk-Wielding Villain Apprehended by Pro Heroes Froppy, Pinky, and Reisho. (slight injuries on the hero team.)

With concern pitting up horribly in your stomach for your friends and boyfriend, you finished your assignment as calmly as you could, before finally getting to rush back to your agency. You had taken to the rooftops to get there as quickly as you could.

Through all that, you found yourself right where you had been in the beginning, staring at Mina, who despite the few scrapes of dirt and soot on your costume, looked normal. Your eyes glanced over at Tsuyu, who, like Mina, was unharmed -- which left Shouto.

“Something strange happened during that battle,” Momo spoke up, her face set with concern, her eyes, although not horrified, was definitely a bit at a loss for an explanation.

“Wha--?”

“The person we fought against could make chimera’s out of people, but the limits of their quirk meant that once they made a chimera, they couldn’t add more to the creation,” Mina explained, her head nodding as she looked from Momo to you. Her fingers were tugging at her pink curls, and you tilted your head.

“Is Shouto still smashed together with someone or something?” you asked, a bit hesitant to see what potentially horrific creation your boyfriend could have turned into. “I’ve seen Shouto show up home after the poop-villain fiasco, I swear I won’t cry if he’s ugly!”

“Well, no, kero,” Tsuyu frowned, her finger pressing to her lower lip as she tilted her head. “Mina-chan and I were a chimera for a bit, and the quirk has a limit when they make a chimera.”

You didn’t like how that was worded.

“Just fucking show her the idiots who threw the match!” Bakugou snapped, his eyebrows furrowed as he shoved the crowd away in the middle, parting them like Moses did the red sea.

Idiots? You thought, your confused expression growing as you looked from Bakugou’s frowning face onto what they had been hiding from you.

And you instantly understood why when you were greeted with two heads. One entirely redheaded, the other entirely white-haired, each with identical faces who looked at you with the same tone to their eyes.

“You see, their quirk can also separate chimera’s, and well… I — we, guess that Todoroki-san is one,” Momo informed you as you stared at opposite replicates of your loving boyfriend. “The villain said they’ve never split a natural-born human chimera before, it had been their first time, so the lasting effects of the quirk are unknown.”

The redheaded Shouto still sported a scar on his face, but he felt completely different. His face was cold, stare distant, and burning with a suppressed, denied fury that you couldn’t recognize on him outside of a battlefield. But even with the cold look encompassing his body and stature like a thick sheet of ice, when he looked at you with his set of two burning turquoise eyes, you knew his feelings for you were still the same.

The white-haired Shouto had no scar, and he looked much closer to the man you knew currently, except maybe a bit more open? His face quipped into a smile, his eyes swimming with mirth, joy, and content with finally seeing you here, all good emotions but emotions you weren’t used to him exposing to the public like this. But even with the warm, loving look burning softly around him, his set of grey eyes shone with feelings you knew were true.

“My boyfriend is split into two?!”

There was something wrong with that sentence, something that carried heat because the moment you said those words, both Shouto’s seemed to freeze next to each other. Icy and fiery glares meeting in an electric firestorm as Deku promptly dragged you out of the room with Momo and Mina. You struggled against Deku’s iron grip, only seeing white-haired Shouto’s jaw drop in the beginnings of a speech while redheaded Shouto glowered at him with all the intensity he could muster.

“Y/l/n-san, we need you to never, ever mention that they’re the same person,” Deku immediately spoke as soon as the door between the hallway and the room where the Shouto’s were closed. “He’s — they’re — not handling that information very well, and are acting rather… immature about who the real ‘Todoroki-kun’ is.”

“They’re not connected by the same mind?!” you spluttered, your own mind feeling like it was split down the middle at the hypothesis that your boyfriend was both of these men, but none of them. “So, it’s like a split personality manifesting completely?”

“We’re a bit sure on how to compare it to something such as dissociative disorder,” Momo spoke calmly, undoubtedly her mind working a mile a millisecond to make sense of the strange predicament you all were in. “He’s been in here for some time now. And from what we’ve managed to question from him, both parts of Todoroki-san remember everything. It seems they differ in just how they felt about it on an emotional basis.”

You blinked once, twice.

“Do you mind giving me an example?”

Goddamn idiot you were.

“Well, I guess the bigger emotional differences were during our high school years,” Midoriya mumbled, his fingers pinching his lower lip in thought. “A good example would be why he challenged me during the sports festival. Redhead Shouto said he did it because he hated Endeavor so much back then he was willing to prove his strength no matter what. White-haired Shouto says it was an overreaction on his own part and that he’s truly sorry.”

You frowned.

“It almost sounds like if Todoroki-san’s quirk had been only one of his parents, and his two halves are insights to the life he would have led if he had only one,” Momo offered a pursed stare. She didn’t seem too sure of her conclusion, but for you, it was enough.

“Honestly, you were the only one I saw both Todoroki-kun’s act the same toward!” Mina exclaimed, her hands grabbing your shoulders as she leaned in close, a sly grin on her face. “It’s like the two of you are destined lovers, no matter how the world is!”

“Mina!” you whined, feeling utterly embarrassed as she snickered loudly, her eye falling into a wink before straightening up.

“Alright, so just a recap: don’t mention which one is the ‘real’ Todoroki,” Mina warned, already moving back into the room.

“What do we call them then?” you whispered, feeling not at all prepared to stare at two, stupid hot versions of your same boyfriend.

“Ah-ha, well,” Midoriya smiled embarrassed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as you all walked back in. “Only Kacchan brought up a nickname so far.”

“YOU STUPID FUCKING RED HALF!” Bakugou’s voice roared the moment the door opened, and immediately, you were pulled back into the mess of the situation. “I’LL MURDER YOUR ASS!”

“Someone was clearly not raised on manners,” came the snide remark from Shouto’s white half, and you watched on in horror as your old male classmates worked together to hold off all three rambunctious boys to keep from fighting.

“LET GO OF ME, SHITTY HAIR! I’LL GIVE THEM BOTH NEW SCARS IF THEY KEEP ACTING LIKE THIS!”

But you stared at the apathetic face on Shouto’s red half, his eyes somehow empty, dull, and angry as he glared at Bakugou.

Red half.

Red.

You looked at Shouto’s white half that was grinning at the challenge, icy frosting off his body akin to the explosions on Bakugou’s fists as he egged him on.

White.

That would be easy enough.

You snorted, before walking forward, grabbing your boyfriend(s) hands in yours, and they quickly turned to look at you. Their gazes turning warm and full, their demeanor utterly different as the raging Bakugou faded into the background.

“So, I’m sure you both know what’s going on at the moment,” you spoke clearly, just loudly enough to be heard over the popping explosions on Bakugou’s palms. “I also know you’re both confident in who you are, but the truth is you both have the same name, so we’re going to need a new thing to call the both of you. Is that okay?”

“Ah, I see,” white-haired Shouto nodded, his hand tightening around yours, his thumb running along the backside of your palm. “You will continue to call me Shouto, and we will call him, the Imposter.”

Wait, what?!

“I’m not the imposter,” redheaded Shouto rolled his eyes, taking the hand he held up to his lips, pressing a gentle, warm kiss to your knuckles — it contrasted chillingly with the cold, aloof tone he continues to have with his white half. “I am, after all, the one with the facial scar. It is the most recognizable feature of me. Clearly, you’re the imposter.”

You had to ignore the way your stomach fluttered and how your cheeks exploded in heat as both Shouto’s were suddenly kissing your knuckles. They only went further after leaving warm, chilling kisses on your skin. For they pulled you closer by your waist, a physical challenge between the two to claim you. Even though they both were for you.

It was only made worse by the wide-eyed, cheek splitting grins, and spluttering noises made by your old classmates who relished in this rom-com type embarrassment.

“Oh my god, enough!” you squeaked, trying to shove both overpowering men away from you.

“See, you’re being too much,” white-haired Shouto snapped, ripping you from redhead Shouto’s hold.

“Let. Y/n. Go.” redhead Shouto growled, hand exploding with fire, and you wrestled yourself out of white-haired Shouto’s hold to press your palms flat against each of their chests.

“You both better calm down right now, or else I’ll send you off with our friends until you’re back to normal!” you snap, your cheek radiating with explosive heat. With the threat heavy on their minds, redhead Shouto took away his flame, and white-haired Shouto took a less defensive stance. Relieved with their current treaty, you thrust a finger at both halves, looking between your way too amused classmates and your boyfriend(s). “You will be called Red--” you jabbed redheaded Shouto with your finger-- “and you will be White!” you spoke clearly, tapping white-haired Shouto with your other finger.

“Am I understood?”

Silence.

You glared at your boyfriend(s) who were staring down at you with wide eyes and gaping jaws.

“I said, am I understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” your boyfriend(s) sputtered.

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Highlight of Day One of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“Where is Red going to sleep?” White asked as you settled into the, thankfully, large bed the two -- now three -- of you shared. “On the floor?”

The bed had been a present from Endeavor when Shouto had moved into your apartment with you. It was much bigger than anything you owned, and while you hadn’t been fond of the length and stretch of the bed, you indeed were grateful for it now.

“Y/n likes to be warm when she sleeps,” Red duly noted, glaring at White the entire time it took him to crawl onto the right side of the bed. He settled right by you, arm wrapped around your waist, chin grazing against your temple. “You sleep on the floor.”

“You need comfort to stay beautiful, and since you’re eliminated from being that because of the scar on your face, you can sleep on the floor!” White countered while reciprocating the same position Red was doing.

Red’s eyebrow twitched at that before his glare soured and became icy cold, “I have the bigger co--”

“Both of you shut up now!” you snap, the palms of your hands shoving their faces away from one another. You were feeling more like a mother to a pair of troublesome twin toddlers than the girlfriend of your boyfriend(s). “I don’t want to hear it!” you groan as both their jaws dropped to attempt to speak their mind. “If you can’t shut up and sleep, I’ll sleep on the floor!”

“No!”

“Then shut up, love me more, and let’s go to bed!”

…

“You don’t have the bigger cock--”

“Oh my god!”

“Please don’t go, my love, White is an idiot.”

Highlight of Day Two of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“Well, this is certainly an interesting thing to be experiencing,” Rei’s gentle voice filled the room as both Red and White sat at her sides. Neither one of them touching her, but their gazes warm and soft for their mother. Rei touched the cheeks of both her son(s) and sighed softly before returning her attention to you. “Has it been hard? I do hope they’ve been behaving themselves.”

You smiled in hopes it would help to hide the grimace on your features as you laughed.

Just this morning, the two of them nearly burned down the kitchen while trying to outperform one another in making you breakfast in bed. It was of ample notice to realize that just one Todoroki Shouto was not to be trusted in the kitchen, but putting two Todoroki Shouto’s in there had caused them to somehow burn water and melt the stove.

The eggs they managed to pull together were burnt yet undercooked and had eggshells in them.

It wasn’t the worst meal you’ve had fun enough.

“They’re doing just fine,” you lie, your smile warm at the woman you would hope to one day become your mother-in-law. “Just a bit odd to deal with two people when I’m so used to one.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is. In fact, they initially saw Shouto was to be twins, but he absorbed the other one in the womb,” Rei admitted, a small laugh on her tongue as she politely covered her mouth, her eyes closed in her mirth. “A bit funny how it seems like this could have been the outcome of that life.”

You feel a cold sweat drip on the back of your neck as Red straightens, his eyes darkening as he makes contact with Rei’s arm, and fear thrums through every fiber of your being.

“Kaa-san?”

“Yes, Shouto?” Rei asked, her warm grey eyes taking in Red’s gloomy form.

“White called me ugly.”

Highlight of Day Three of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“My love, I’m not feeling too well,” White groaned on the couch when you first arrived home.

Unfortunately, or fortunately for you, you were still being cleared to work during this time of split Shouto. After a much-needed relatively short time away from home, you had returned after a patrol to a clean apartment living room and Red sitting on the singles armchair, and White sprawled on the couch.

You froze, Shouto hardly ever got sick! His internal temperature was always so in tune to the things around him that no virus, bug, or bacteria ever managed to infect him with sickness. For all five years of knowing him, you had never once seen him sick.

“Oh my god!” you panicked, rushing to remove your coat and shoes as you ran over to the couch to feel his forehead for a temperature.

He was running a bit cold, as he always did on his right side of his body, so you internally freaked about if this was normal or not! Your Shouto always had a specific spot on his forehead that was considered normal, but this was not your normal Shouto.

You were fucked, so wildly fucked.

“Are you okay? What do you need? I can go get you a blanket. I’ll get some soup going! What medicine do you think you need?!”

“There’s…” White trailed off in his exhaustion, his hands rubbing his face in probably his sick delirium. “There’s only one thing that will help…”

“What is it?” you asked, leaning in closer to him so that his flushed lips were centimeters from your ear.

“I need... “ he trailed off, and you leaned in closer, only to be suddenly trapped in his arms and pulled on top of him. “Some one-on-one time with my beautiful girlfriend!”

The scent of burning leather filled the room.

“WHITE PUT IT OUT! PUT OUT THE FIRE!”

“Princess, I’m not feeling good.”

Good fucking grief.

Highlight of Day Four of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“Hot soba.”

“Cold soba.”

“Hot soba.”

“Cold soba.”

“Hot.”

“Cold.”

“Hot!”

“Cold.”

“The store has both!” you sobbed, your boyfriend(s) adopting their possessive hugging on your body while out in public as you had attempted to get them out of the house because you thought that maybe, just maybe, they were feeling stir-crazy.

“But we always share our soba noodles, y/n,” Red looked down at you, tilting your chin so that you could look at him clearly. “I know you love cold soba more.”

“We get it, Ice Princess, daddy hurt your feelings, and now you still hate everything hot! Get over it; y/n always buys hot soba when you’re not around.”

“G-Guys,” you whimper, suddenly feeling drowned out with the clashing of ice and fire personalities around you as the crowd watched on in bemusement. “Please stop.”

They suddenly both turned on you, their eyes narrowed, faces fierce as they both exclaimed at the same time: “Which soba do you like better?!”

You’re too exhausted of them to even scold them like you had used to anymore.

In the end, they tried to settle it via arm wrestling, which resulted in a horrible tie. They had both tried to use their quirks to win, somehow forgetting in the heat of their battle that their quirks not only canceled each other, but their strength was painfully equivalent.

Highlight of Day Five of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

To be frank, you missed kissing Shouto.

With them being the way they were and how horribly chaotic they acted, you knew if you kissed one, it would lead to them both impregnating you and slipping an engagement ring on your pretty ring finger well before you were ready for either one of those things. So instead, you stared at both of their equally perfect lips.

Full, slightly pouty pink lips that were somewhat chapped as they always were due to his quirk elements. Full, soft lips that you had felt pressed to your hands and cheeks for the past five days, and yet you craved it to be pressed against your lips, but that was undoubtedly dangerous.

But you continued to stare at Red’s lips, at White’s lips.

You liked seeing how their teeth exposed themselves when they smiled, or how he had barely formed dimples on his cheeks, the smile lines that had finally formed on his previously smooth face. You liked seeing the way he bit on his lower lip when he held his tongue, or how his tongue seductively swiped his lips when he caught you staring.

Wait—?!

You snapped out of your daze, staring at the suggestive, all too pleased look on White’s face as he leaned in close to you while Red was busy performing his daily workout routine.

“You want to fuck while Not-the-real-Shouto’s busy? He won’t know, I promise.”

You flush.

“No!”

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It was day six of split Shouto when you woke up.

Your eyes stinging with exhaustion as you stared up at the ceiling as bodies of ice and fire sandwiched you between them. They snored softly, breathes deep and full in perfect harmony as they slumbered. You hated Shouto. You hated him so much.

This could have been a fantastic experience in your fantasies. Cloning quirks were a thing, and often you would hear about the sexual endeavors many partook in while in the company of someone with such quirk. It seemed like so much fun. Someone existing solely to be fucked, replicated from someone you already trusted.

It seemed perfect.

But here you were. Living the life of many porn fantasies, but the clones — not clones — hated one another. You couldn’t even so much as breathe next to one of them for too long before the other came to rip you away, annoyed, and ready to reclaim you. They were behaving as if you didn’t already belong to them.

Maybe you could have handled the lack of horny, lusting out of your mind sex if they had simply allowed you to kiss them without starting a war. But they claimed they would rather die than see you kiss someone that wasn’t them (singular them).

So, you were struggling.

The internal struggle only grew when they woke up at the same time. Growing when they both exposed their scarred, perfectly muscled, and toned body. It grew when they pressed their sinful body against yours, and you could only look up at them with eyes like a full moon, heat wet in your panties. You wanted something to happen because watching them go at it again for the fifty-third time today suddenly made your mind snap.

Since they wouldn’t seem to quit fighting, you might as well be fucked while they fought amongst themselves. You were a big girl, you could handle two cocks around your body.

At the moment, you were in the communal kitchen living room area. You sat at the table, trying to enjoy your cup of tea while they stood a few strides away from you… arguing.

“Would you both put those mouths to better use than fighting with each other?!” you finally snapped, your hands tugging at the roots of your hair after you placed down your cup of tea. They had been fighting for the past hour as to whether or not Shouto’s first costume idea was created because of Red or because of White.

Neither one of them claimed responsibility on that one funny enough.

They fell silent immediately. Both their eyes wide, brows furrowed, and jaws gaping like a fish as they tried to separate their conversation from what you just said.

“Better use?” Red stated, his blink slow.

A curling, devious smirk spread on White’s face, “Oh, did my love finally cave to being fucked?”

“I didn’t think you would be into cucking,” Red admitted, his own smirk growing on his face while White frowned and glared at him. “What? It’s obvious it would be you tied up, White. You can’t expect y/n to trust either one of us to sit there, so she’d tie us up. My fire would easily destroy the bonds.”

Ah yes, how could you forget that they’d adopted only one half of the one quirk Shouto possessed. Now while you definitely wouldn’t mind cucking both sides of Shouto at some point, that wasn’t what you were craving at the moment.

“Y/n loves ice trailing down her body, I can definitely satisfy her better!”

“Like I said a few days ago, I have the bigger cock, so shut up and watch us.”

They were going to drive you insane.

Standing up from the table, the chair screeching against the floor as you did so, their attention fell on you. You felt heat rushing to your cheeks, your heart fluttering in your chest as turquoise and grey eyes that you could read like nothing gorged into your form.

You settled between them, feeling dwarfed between their taller, muscled forms. Red was in a white t-shirt and sweats, White in a black shirt and dark jeans. You were unsure as to why you felt so shaken when you pressed your fingers between the valley of their pecs, your tongue heavy in your mouth. You blamed it on the six-day dry-feast the idiots put you in, and the mere thought of finally getting your way was exhilarating.

“This is what’s going to happen,” you say with no room for arguing, your gaze meeting theirs through your eyelashes. “We are all going to fuck. There’s three of us, and I’m the one who wants to be satisfied, so this will be a threesome. Fuck me any way you want, I don’t care, but whoever starts fighting first gets cucked.”

Red is staring at you with his piercing turquoise eyes, White’s gaze dropped to your tracing finger on his chest. But the consensus was the same.

“Yes, ma’am.”

A warm, fluttery smile breached your face, and you nodded.

“Good… now, fuck me.”

They begin almost immediately. Two initially contradicting forces of fire and ice abandoning their internal surge for power to appease and please you. There’s no stopping the shiver and the moan trapped in your throat when two identical sets of hands you knew and craved the touch of finally made contact with your body. Red’s hands were on your breasts, groping and massaging your mounds of flesh while his mouth pressed tantalizing kisses along the curve of your neck, along the length of your clavicle.

White had dropped down, his mouth pressing hot, kisses against the flesh of your thighs and your ass. His fingers pushing the sleeping shorts you still wore, his calloused fingers brushing against your clit.

You openly moaned, hands pressing against both White and Red for some form of support.

“You’re already so wet,” White groans his observation, his finger slicking itself against your wet folds.

You shake, your head nodding in full understanding as you began to rotate your hips against his finger. Of course, you were so wet, you thought, goosebumps flashing against your entire body when Red pinched your nipples through your light tank.

“You try living with two of me and be denied every physical need,” you gasped, your voice pitching the moment Red’s teeth sank into the sweet spot on your neck the same time White’s finger curled within your walls. “Fuck…”

“It’s so cute when you whisper like that,” Red noted, his hands lifting your breast, tongue smoothing over your irritated skin. “I bet you didn’t mind our quirk accident because you wanted something like this.”

Now that was definitely something you couldn’t disagree about.

But with the way your body was so desperately deprived and how there were two sources of knowledge on you. Knowing the perfect sensations on your sensitive parts of your body, you pushed them away.

Grey and turquoise blazed into your skin, but you huffed, grabbing them by the hands and pulling on them.

“I want the bed,” you affirm, your cheeks feeling warm, your eyes keeping on theirs. “We’re fucking on the bed.”

“Of course, my love,” they responded together. And the heat in your body seemed to multiple when you pushed through into the room.

Guiding them into the bedroom, you didn’t release their hands until they were sitting down onto the bed—Red on your right, white on your left.

Their stares are expectant, already clouded with horny, lustful need when you let go of their hands. Before they could ask what was next, you leaned in, opposite hands pressing to each of their crotches, and they both groaned lightly in their chest. You palmed them through their clothes, your cunt throbbing with the fact that you enjoyed watching their hooded, lusting expressions bore into your figure. Biting down onto your lower lip, you stopped a tethering moan from escaping when both their hands grabbed onto your ass.

They fondled the flesh as you continued to palm them, the cock buried within their clothes growing harder and larger with every quick movement of your hand. They both were so hot and dangerously heavy hidden away in the confines of the pants, and you wanted nothing more than to be choking and stuffed full of them both.

But you don’t get your way just yet.

“On the bed,” Red suddenly commands, and you stop a squeak from embarrassingly ripping from your throat. You stumble on the large bed, and both Red and White shift so that there’s enough room for you to be perched between them. Ass on Whites side, face on Red’s, and you feel your body freeze when everything picks up speed.

White’s lips are on the back of your thigh, kissing and nibbling on the sensitive skin while his fingers take up rubbing your cunt again. Your body trembles under his ministrations, hips shifting, and bucking against him as he once again buries his fingers into your blistering core.

But with the moans singing from your lips, you felt transcended. The way that your eyes rolled to the back of your head with each shift of White’s fingers proving that point, you focused in on Red, who had shoved your breasts over the hem of your shirt. You whimpered loudly when his fingers pinched at both nipples, tugging at the pebbled flesh.

“Such pretty noises,” Red whispered, his nose brushing against yours, and you throbbed with the need to be kissed. “Are you enjoying this?”

“Yes,” you breathed, “Please give me more, more, please.”

Red inhaled sharply, his eyes blazing like blue fire before finally, he crashed his lips against yours, unable to hold back anymore, and you cried in glorious acceptance. You kissed Red back with everything you had. Your lips slick with your joining, mixing saliva while he continued to press bruising, heated kisses to your mouth. Your hands at one point had attached themselves onto his biceps, and you found your fingernails to be digging through his skin, but Red didn’t care.

He continued to play with your hanging, sore tits, his tongue entering the barricade of your mouth as he kissed you again, and again, and again.

His name spilling from your mouth until you froze, your back tightening the second something more was happening behind you.

White’s finger, covered in the slick of your essence, was probing through your ass all while he continued to finger fuck your cunt.

“Aw, you do like it when my finger goes into your ass!” White chirped, his finger pressing further past your tight rim, sending your mind into a flurry of thoughts and feelings at the sensation of being stretched out, while you collapsed onto the mattress. Red abandoned you. “Your ass always looks so fucking hot when it takes in my finger. It’s like it's sucking me back in whenever I try to pull out. So. Fucking. Hot.”

You could do nothing but choke out White’s name the second the finger curled in your ass and the fingers buried in your cunt came together to press between the thin wall separating the two cavities, and you keened at the feeling.

“White!” you yelled, your eyebrows furrowed in your pleasure, your hips bucking back against his hands. “More! I need more!”

It was at that moment his fingers abandoned your holes, but before you could cry at the loss, Red was back in front of you, naked as the day he was born. But his cock was hard, pressed against his stomach, standing tall and erect for you to suck.

“Come on, angel,” Red spoke, tilting your chin up so that he may press another sizzling kiss to your mouth. “Play with my cock.”

Still, on your knees, your back arched, mouth entirely occupied with Red’s mouth, your hand blindly grabbed his cock and began to jerk him off. You kissed him harshly, thoroughly, not wanting to let him go without exploring and feeling every little thing you could offer while you run your hand up and down his length.

You fully moaned into his mouth when his fingers lightly brushed against your neck, showing how sensitive you are. He runs his hand all the way down to your hips and latches onto your ass cheek. You mewl against him, wondering just why he was doing that when something hot and wet pressed against your cunt.

Breaking off the kiss immediately, you turned around to see White’s face buried into your ass, but his tongue was meeting your cunt with every languid lick.

“Shit!” you curse, your hips bucking and moving to better find White’s tongue against your core. But before you could find your spot, his tongue abandons your cunt and presses back against your tight, tight rim.

Trembling, your eyes roll to the back of your head, all while Red reclaims your lips.

Your hand encompassing his cock began to pick up in speed as White seemed to interchange between tongue fucking your ass and cunt. Whimpering needs only resonated from your mouth into Red’s as you jacked him off sloppily, messily at heightened speeds while you begged for more.

It didn’t take long before they both pulled away from you, and you in your heat daze, teared up as you watched both Red and White step onto the floor, their twin, identical cocks out, leaking with precum that called your name. You didn't need to be told what to do at this point as you stumbled out of bed, falling to your knees right between them.

With Red’s cock in your left hand, you pulled him into your mouth, your right hand expertly, yet blindly jerking White off. You pushed your head as far down as it could go along Red’s cock, your eyes trying to keep on his the entire time.

Relishing in the fact that his cock went unchanged, your tongue swirled around Red’s cock, your head bobbing along his length, and Red smirked down at you, pressing the tears in your eyes away. Pulling away with a string of saliva connecting his head to your lip, you alternated onto White’s cock, your left hand continuing to jerk off Red.

White groaned at the sudden heat, immersing against his length, his hips snapping into your mouth as you took him all the way in. You had been dating Shouto for a few years now. You were definitely capable of taking him in your mouth in one go without trouble. But it just felt so different with one of your hands stroking off Red, and White’s hands grabbing your head while he thrust into you.

Before you could settle on White’s cock, you switched back to Red, who decided to command your every little instruction.

It quickly became a game between Red and White on who could make you choke and moan the loudest as they fucked your mouth and throat mercilessly. You, thankfully, were entirely enjoying it, your soaked pussy rubbing against your tight panties, and you rutted against the fabric trying to relive the building, fast pressure in your core.

“Fuck,” White snarled when Red had you completely choked against his cock. His cock was shoved as far down your throat as it could manage, and he kept you there. Painful tears falling from your eyes while your throat struggled to remain relaxed despite the burning lack of oxygen. “Keep her there, Red. Don’t let her move.”

Red, who was only entranced by you for quite some time, looked up with amusement at his other half.

“What, you like this?” Red asked a taunt hidden in his voice but was buried under so much more throbbing lust. “You like seeing y/n choking against a cock?”

You whimpered against Red, your throat muscles fluttering and flaring along his length-- what was he planning?

“Who wouldn’t want to see y/n like this,” White breathed, and you shook at the nonverbal agreement that passed between the two of them.

You whined at the unknown, finally being released from Red’s cock, and you spluttered and coughed, drool and saliva drenching your chin while you turned towards White, ready to do the same. But you shrieked, the wind knocking out of you when they both picked you up from the floor and tossing you onto the mattress. You bounced when you landed.

Both Red and White quickly moved to remove your clothes until you were naked as well, their eyes glimmering with their treaty, a million ideas undoubtedly pouring through their mind.

White is on you first. He joins you onto the mattress, his lips pressing and languidly moving against yours, and you moan against him.

“We’re going to start fucking you now, baby,” White whispers against your mouth, his thumb running up against your still spit slicked chin. With just his finger alone, he moves you so that you’re on your hands and knees before him, waiting like an obedient pet. Your eyes flutter open, just barely opened so that you could meet his stormy grey eyes while his thumb slips over your bottom lip and into your mouth. “I hope you’re ready to be fucked… Red?” he called, his thumb pressing down on your tongue, instinctively flaring your gag reflex.

“Hm?” Red answered back, and you stilled when something hot and heavy smacked against your ass.

Once, twice.

“Fuck her right.”

Silence.

You whimpered against White’s thumb, your eyes watering while you studied his determined, playful face. There's a chuckle from behind you, and you shiver at the fact that you could practically smell the knowing smirk on his face.

“Obviously.”

And then it happens.

Red slams his cock into your awaiting, wet pussy with a pleased groan while you lurched forward onto White at the mighty snap of Red’s hips. Naturally so, you screamed Red's name, your pussy singing in absolute love over the fact that he’s buried entirely within you, undoubtedly claiming you once again.

Before you could sing your praises for Red, White’s shut you up by replacing his thumb with his cock, and you’re forced silent.

When they worked against each other, they were annoying, irritating, and often horrifying, but together? Well, as Red’s cock shoved more profound and deeper into your womb, and White’s cock conquested your throat, you hummed with the pleasure they brought. Together they were powerful, commanding, and unbreakable, and if the sounds of your wet pussy and choking mouth were to prove it, it was more than just a fact.

You struggled to keep up with Red’s slamming hips, the girth of his cock stretching you out in an all too familiar way, and White driving cock that choked you out every time you moved. You felt dizzy with the thumping, tingling pleasure, your hand that held onto White’s hips clutching his skin, while your other one manipulated and circled your clit.

You wanted to cum. You wanted to so badly.

“You sound so hot choking on his cock,” Red laughed, his hand coming down to spank your jiggling ass with a single, powerful thwack. You bristled at the sensation. “Do more, sweetheart, I know you can do more; we’ve experienced you doing more.”

You garbled as White smirked down at you, your eyes just barely open enough to see the knowing look in his eyes.

“Use that little slut mouth of yours better, baby,” White taunted, his hand coming to pat your hollowed cheeks roughly, quickly, in a few stinging slaps.

This is what you liked, you realized as you pulled away from his length, mouth swallowing his balls with heightened eagerness, your hand rubbing his length as you did so. White moaned your name, his head dropping in his pleasure as you did so.

It must have done something for Red, too, because his fingers dug into the skin on your waist, his powerful thrusts becoming quicker, shorter thrusts that moved you against his cock with rattling power and craving lust. You whimpered against White’s balls and cried out in pleasure-filled pain the moment Red spanked you again, and again, and again.

Your cunt was fluttering, squeezing, and beating in time to your heartbeat. The pleasure within you grew from a light warmth to a blazing heat. You cried for more, your knees and thighs shaking for more.

More friction, more fucking, more of Shouto.

“Turn around, you little cockslut,” White grinned, removing you from his balls. “It’s my turn to fuck your pretty little cunt.”

Whining, you did as you were told, your limbs feeling like lead as Red smoothed back the hair falling on to your face.

Before you were ready, not that you minded, their cocks reclaimed your holes.

It was different this time.

They fucked you differently, you realized when White enjoyed pulling nearly all the way out before thrusting back into you. His strokes and powerful thrusts send the coil in your stomach to grow tighter and tighter. But Red, fuck, Red had his fingers in your mouth, choking you with them as he slapped your cheek with his cock, his precum mixed with your slick smearing all over your cheek as he did so.

“I want to make sure that you realize that me putting my cock in your mouth is a blessing,” Red coldly smirked, his eyes blazing with a whole other story. But despite it all, you nodded your head quickly. Altogether agreeing with the claim that you needed to earn his cock in your mouth again.

“I kno thath,” you whine against his fingers, saliva shamelessly dribbling past your lips, your mouth closing to suck on his fingers. “I promith I’ll apprethciate your giff.”

He could try all he wanted, but Red was whipped for you too.

His cock immediately replaced his fingers, slamming to the depths of your throat, all while the wet noises of your throat and choking voices joined the squelching of your cunt. Your eyes rolled in your pleasure, your cunt thrumming with energy as Red’s hands encircled your throat, choking you while he fucked straight down your throat.

“You looked so pretty earlier when you couldn’t breathe,” Red snarled, his cock twitching in your throat the same time White’s cock twitched in your cunt. “I’m just -- fuck do that again -- trying to get you there… faster… Your throat really feels like your fucking pussy at times, shit.”

You whimper at that comparison as you forcefully clench your throat and cunt around both of your boyfriend's cock.

But you vibrate when White’s finger traces your rim, his finger not disappearing into your wrinkled muscle, but stimulating it well past teasing. You pull off Red’s cock with a spluttering cough, your eyes burning, but you find White’s gaze immediately.

“What’s going on, sweetness?” White asked, his eyes glimmering with knowledge of what you want already, but the slick fucker just had to ask.

Too bad you weren’t ashamed of shit around him.

“I want you to fuck my ass,” you moan, your hips slamming back against White’s still shifting cock, your hand clenching one of your asscheeks as you split yourself open for White. “Please fuck my ass.”

“Fuck!” they both seemed to growl, and without so much as a break, White switches from your ass and buries his length slowly into your needy, tight ass.

The pitchy, unstoppable moan from your mouth sends both Red and White into whimpering messes as you collapse onto the mattress, your chest heaving with your heightened stimulus. It was starting to hurt, your lack of orgasm, you just needed a bit more done to cum, and you wanted to.

“Where’s my dick?” White finally growls at you as he bottoms out entirely within you. You tremble at the question, body shaking with every stroke of his cock he makes afterward. “Where is it?”

“I-In my ass!” you wail, your ass clenching around him, trying to make him feel this heated pleasure as strongly as you were. “It’s in m-my ass!”

“Do you love my cock in your ass?” White snarls, his hands gripping your waist and slamming you back onto him, your ass squeezing with the sensation. You can’t speak; your mind is overloaded with feeling and emotion. “Why do I even bother? I know you love my cock in your ass.”

Red comes back into the equation, his hands grabbing your jaw and pressing your mouth against his into a searing kiss. You can hardly kiss him back, your mouth pathetically hanging open as he kisses your teeth, mouth, tongue. So, it shouldn’t shock you that in your near blissful blackout, Red hands your limp arms to White, who holds onto them.

His grasp and hold on your arms elevates you slightly off the bed, your back arched, and breasts exposed as he begins to jackhammer into your ass. You want to scream, you want to shudder and cry your sensations to the world, but Red interrupts once more by pressing his swollen, purpling head into your mouth, silencing you with gags and chokes while they both use you.

They both drive into you with ferocity and power, your body nearly limp and twitching with your ever still denied orgasm that refuses to back down, and the way the lack of oxygen makes you spin as Red’s balls clash against your throat in quick, succinct, patterns.

“Sit down, White,” Red snaps at White, and White, who was ever so entranced at how your ass was swallowing his cock, dumbly nods. “Y/n is about to cum, we need to make sure she cums correctly.”

You whine against Red’s cock, unsure if you heard him correctly when White drops your arms. But instead of falling forward as you thought you would, his relaxed arms wrapped around your waist tightly, bringing you down with him.

Your back was pressed against his chiseled chest. And you moaned at the sensation this angle brought in terms of depth and stretch. Your mouth, freed from Red’s cock, opened in a loud, scratchy moan, undoubtedly raspy from the abuse it went through from the vigorous face fucking.

“R-Red!” you cried, your legs shaking when White hooked his arms under your knees and spreading them out, exposing your wet, slick core to Red, who was merely watching. You shifted pathetically, wanting to have both of them on you, not just one. “Red, please!”

But, White’s hips began to thrust upward, resuming his fucking of your asshole, and you howled in pleasure as he breathed heavily, gasping in your right ear. But as your legs trembled, unsure if White would be able to keep your legs in such position, Red pressed on top of you, his weight keeping your legs spread, and his cock quickly slamming within your cunt.

You had one hand buried in White’s hair, the other slipping behind Red’s back when he pressed onto you. The second their cocks rubbed against each other through the oh so thin wall between your ass and your cunt, you screeched. The hand in White’s hair tugging at his roots harshly, and the hand on Red’s back drawing bloody mountains on his skin.

But this didn’t stop them, the slight pain you gave them doing nothing but making them growl in your ear, making your eyes cross in your oblivion while they continued to fuck you.

Sandwiched between them, your breasts crushed by Red’s chest, and your back buried into White’s chest, White let go of one of your legs that immediately latched around Red’s waist. Your eyes crossed, rolling to the back of your head, your mouth agape, but no noise coming out as every massive, hard thrust sent your soul into a new dimension. White’s hand sneaking between Red’s drilling hips and your cunt to pinch and pull at your clit as you shook like a leaf in a windstorm. You came without realizing it, your walls clenching like a vice against Red’s cock, and your ass clenching around White’s in tandem to your orgasm. Both of them moaning against your salty sweat skin, but neither one of them stopped.

Faster and faster, they thrust into you, gaining such speed and power that you felt akin to a ragdoll as they fucked you. They praised you for taking them both at the same time, senseless names, and wordless praise as you took them without a single wince of pain. You were theirs, they claimed, and they were yours.

The sounds of their cock drilling into the wet caverns of your cunt and ass, the sticking shivering sound of their balls smacking your ass and cunt.

It was so much, growing to be more and more, until your orgasm was once again growing as you attempted to shift your weak, still trembling hips up and down their length, wanton gasps shrill on your tongue. Your body begging for more.

“Gonna cum,” they whispered together, his deep, raspy voice filling both of your ears, and you wailed as your own orgasm tipped once again.

“Cum in me, please cum in me!” you begged with everything you had.

And with your pleading heavy in the air, they came with you. You moaned at the feeling of the hot, sticky thick ropes of cum filling up both your holes, the cocks spasming uncontrollably within you as their hips continued to ride out their orgasms. Your chest heaves as their snapping hips become rolling thrusts until finally, they stop.

All three of you still joined, all three of you sweaty and tired.

When you pass out, you can barely hear them saying goodbye.

…

You wake up, your body sore and bruised around midnight.

You groan, stretching out your neck as you realize that there is no body on top of you or beneath you as that was definitely how you all had fallen asleep a few hours ago. Panic filled you when the bed was empty, and you rushed to your feet, cursing when your knees buckled out from under your weight.

Crashing to the floor, you groaned as you lay there.

“What are you doing on the floor?” an all too familiar voice asked you, and you looked up to see if it was Red or White.

You blinked when instead the once two distinctive heads blurred into one, and you stared at your finally normal boyfriend.

“S-Shouto!” you cried, your body weakly pressing off the floor, your arms stretching to you.

Shouto smiled warmly, softly, the perfect in-between of the facial expressions Red and White would give you.

“I’m back, sorry for scaring you like that,” he whispered as he joined you on the floor, letting your arms wrap him into a firm hug, not wanting to let go as you pathetically began to cry.

The two of you lay naked together on the floor, his soft apologies gathering in your ear as you held him tightly, having missed him entirely.

“Do you remember?” you eventually asked long after Shouto managed to bring you back into the bed. You lay curled into his side, your fingers tracing the marks on his body that you had left on both Red and White. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Yes… and I remember how it all felt too.”

“Ew… perv…”

“Try that again? Ms. ‘I-want-your-cock-in-my-ass’.”

“SHOUTO!”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki smut #bnha #bnha x reader #bbs kinktober 2020

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tobesolonely · 4 years ago

Text

queen anne’s coffee

A/N: hello everyone! I am not D/deaf or Hard of Hearing. However, this was requested more than once I wanted to do my best to provide. In this story, Y/N is a part of the Deaf community. if I have misrepresented the Deaf community in any way or wrote something inaccurate or offensive, then please DO NOT hesitate to let me know (respectfully, of course!) i wanted to fulfill this person’s request and be as inclusive as i could, as i don’t typically see stories with a Deaf!reader. shes short and sweet but i hope you all enjoy anyway! as always, feedback is very much welcomed and appreciated! :)

Summary: Y/N visits Harry’s coffee shop every Tuesday and Thursday and always orders the same thing. Harry HAS to get to know her!!!

word count: ~1.7k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Every Tuesday and Thursday at exactly 3:50 PM, Y/N placed an online order that consisted of an iced chai tea latte with oat milk and a butter croissant from Harry’s coffee shop, Queen Anne’s Coffee.

Y/N never forgot to add, “warmed up pls! thank you :)” in the section for comments, and she always tipped. She would then come into Harry’s shop approximately ten minutes later, walk up to the ‘pickup’ counter, grab her items, smile at Harry, and promptly leave. Harry never even so much as said hello to her, but he was irrevocably captivated––even if she was a complete stranger.

Harry decided that when Y/N came in today for her usual, he’d finally talk to her.

Business had been unusually slow for a Thursday afternoon but Harry didn’t mind–when Y/N came in, he’d be able to have a proper chat with her without having to rush the conversation along to help other customers. His gaze kept floating up to the cat-shaped clock hanging above the door, anxiously awaiting 3:50 PM when Y/N’s order would come through on the iPad and he got to read the words, “warmed up pls! thank you :)”

Harry didn’t know why he was so nervous to speak to her. As the owner of his very own coffee shop (and it’s only employee), he got to know the people who came in regularly well, even developing genuine friendships with some. It bothered Harry that this beautiful person gave him business two days a week and the only thing he knew about her was her name, which is only because he can see it when she places her order online.

When the iPad Harry keeps plugged up atop the counter chimes, he doesn’t even have to glance at it to know it was Y/N but he does anyway, feelings of excitement bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He was finally going to talk to her! Harry contemplates scribbling his number on the side of her cup as he’s writing her name but decides against it, not wanting to be too forward before they even formally meet.

When Y/N comes in ten minutes later, Harry can immediately sense something is wrong. She hardly looks up once as she shuffles from the door to the counter, hoodie pulled up and drawn tight over her head.

“Are you okay?”

Y/N doesn’t look up or even acknowledge the fact that Harry spoke. Even though there’s only two other people in the shop besides them, Harry figures she might think he was talking to someone else and addresses her by name.

“Y/N?”

She still doesn’t address Harry as she gives him a small smile before hurriedly exiting the shop, the bell above the door signaling her exit.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

When Tuesday comes, Harry’s out of bed before his alarm jolts him from his dreams.

He thought about Y/N all weekend as he impatiently awaited Tuesday’s arrival, excited over the prospect of finally seeing her again. He hoped she was doing better today than she was last week, and he really hoped she was in the mood to chat with him today.

Harry’s grateful the shop is busy today. It helps to keep his mind off of Y/N, and his eyes off the clock. When the iPad chimes at 3:50 on the dot, Harry decides he’ll wait until she comes in to prepare her order. It didn’t take him over two minutes, anyway. He figures this will give him a bit more time to chat with her, at least say hello and see if she’s doing better.

Much to his pleasure, Y/N has a big smile on her face when she bursts through the door ten minutes later. She floats to the pickup counter, then furrows her eyebrows in confusion as she looks up at Harry.

“Sorry, I’m working on your order right now,” Harry grabs a purple marker off the counter, scribbling Y/N’s name on the cup used for iced drinks. “How’s your day so far?”

Harry watches as Y/N cocks her head to the side in confusion, then pulls her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. She quickly types something before holding her phone out for Harry to take.

“I can’t hear you! I’m Deaf.”

A look of realization floods Harry’s face as he reads what she said. He now understood why Y/N didn’t answer him when he tried speaking to her last week, and he’s secretly relieved that she wasn’t ignoring him because she hated him or anything like that.

“I know a bit of sign!” Harry types before handing Y/N back her phone. He watches as her eyes skim his words and she looks up, a toothy grin plastered on her face.

“Great! This is much faster.” Her hands move quickly as she signs. “Did my order work or not? Wi-Fi is bad at home today.”

Harry realizes he doesn’t know as much sign language as he thought he did.

“OK. I am rusty.”

Y/N smiles at this and pulls her phone back out, typing what she just signed to him before passing it back to him. A look of realization floods Harry’s face as he learns she was just asking if her order came through alright, seeing as it was not yet ready. Too embarrassed to tell her he intentionally waited until she arrived to prepare her order, he just nods.

“I’ll have it ready in no more than two minutes… and refund you, too. I’m sorry for the wait.” Harry looks up at Y/N as he passes the phone to her, eyes not leaving her face as he tries to gauge her reaction.

“No!” Her head shakes as she signs. “Happy to pay. Thank you.”

Harry understands Y/N but refunds her, anyway.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“Why do you always come Tuesday and Thursday? Same time?”

“Exams every Tuesday and Thursday.” The look of obvious dissatisfaction on Y/N’s face makes Harry laugh. “Your chai and pastries cheer me up after.”

Harry’s face turns red at Y/N’s admittance, so he instead looks down, pretending he’s distracted by something on the iPad. He decides at that moment that he will no longer charge Y/N for her oat milk latte and croissant. She was a college student after all––if her financial situation was like Harry’s in any way when he was in college earning his business degree, it would probably be beneficial for her to save her money, anyhow.

Ever since Harry and Y/N’s first real interaction, Y/N had been coming into Queen Anne’s nearly every day, school supplies and laptop in tow. She always sat at the table closest to the front counter, directly in Harry’s line of vision so they could sign to each other.

Y/N provided Harry with some much needed (and enjoyed) company when business was slow, and she was helping him brush up on his sign language. Harry learned that Y/N is Deaf; her hearing is completely gone in her left ear and almost completely gone in the right. She’s the only person in her family who is Deaf. She also hated eggs, is lactose intolerant (hence the oat milk), has two older siblings, is a master’s student, and a plethora of other things that Harry had committed to memory.

“Thank you. I’m glad you enjoy.”

“Who is A-N-N-E?”

Harry grins. “My mother. Back in London.”

Y/N’s eyes widen. “London? Amazing! You must have an accent.”

It dawns on Harry that Y/N has never heard his voice before. “Yes. Are you from here?” Y/N nods in response.

“Whole life. Small town, but it’s home.” Her pinched hand moves quickly from her mouth up to her ear.

“Sorry. What?”

“H-O-M-E.”

A look of realization floods Harry’s face as he nods in response, signaling for Y/N to give him a moment as the bell above the entrance jingles. It seems as if the few people who walk through the door act as a catalyst for others to enter, and soon Queen Anne’s is at maximum occupancy and Harry is trying to make several drinks at once while taking orders. He locks eyes with Y/N a few times and she gives him a sympathetic look, not able to do much to help him out.

Harry decides that once business dies back down, he’ll find out if Y/N is interested in a part-time job.

⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N was interested in a part-time job.

She was a fast learner and a hard worker. Harry was more than delighted to show her how to make every drink on the menu, and consume her failed attempts. It was nice having someone else behind the counter with him––he wished he’d gone about hiring someone to help him much sooner, but he was glad to now have Y/N by his side.

“So much chai! I thought only I drank this stuff.”

Harry’s gaze lingers on Y/N for a beat too long, causing her to shift slightly. Harry’s hand moves to scratch the back of his neck. “Yes. I like chai. With milk.” His hand forms a ��C’ then closes to form an ‘S’ twice for the word “milk”.

“Regular?” One of Y/N’s eyebrows raises as she asks her question, setting a hot chai latte atop the “pickup” counter.

“S-O-Y.”

Y/N lets out a quiet snort of laughter as she shakes her head. It was the first time Harry ever made her laugh out loud. After hearing her laugh once, he never wanted to stop––it was music to his ears. “Not surprised!”

Harry’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Why?” His eyes remain on Y/N as she walks around the small area, cleaning up a small coffee spill she had earlier.

“You just are a S-O-Y boy, H. My S-O-Y boy!”

Harry’s cheeks immediately turn pink as they did the first time Y/N said something that flustered him, but he doesn’t look away.

“You’re my O-A-T girl.”

⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Thank you everyone for reading!!! This is only the beginning of Y/N and Harry I think <33

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles smut

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junowritings · 4 years ago

Note

HELLO, DARLING 💕💕 I'm here to bust in and ask for some sweet, sweet Twst fluff! May I have some Ruggie, Azul, and Deuce reacting to thier fem!s/o protecting them in a fight?? Maybe some dude trying to swing at them and their gf gets in the way and protects them! Pls give me the good, much love and you're amazing 💕💕💕💖💖💖

First request! Thank you so much honey I am always happy to provide some peak content~! I had way too much fun with this and it shows lmao but I hope you enjoy~! 💖 💖 💖

----------------

Ruggie

♡ Ruggie’s used to stepping on a few toes and tails with his antics - he’s a little trickster at heart but it’s all in good fun, he swears! It’s just unfortunate circumstances that perhaps one or two people sometimes get caught in the crossfire of his schemes, never anything too serious, but enough to leave more than a few people grumbling about it by the time things actually get sorted back out. Rarely do things ever actually spiral out of Ruggie’s control, and even if they do, chances are no one stays too mad at him for too long...most of the time. The times they do? They tend to get a bit out of hand.

♡ When a group of students attempt to corner him on the way back to the Savanaclaw dorm, he isn’t even sure what’s got them so heated - they start cussing him out, ranting about how he must think he’s such a wise guy, getting so cocky and not knowing his place. He’s not phased by what they say at all, if anything he’s not fussed in the slightest and would probably make a comment about them coming up with something more original if he could get a word in their bickering. It gets tiring real fast, and Ruggie’s looking for an out before these guys have even finished talking.

♡ Sure, he could use his unique magic in this situation, but given that it would only affect one of them and more than likely piss them off even more in the process, it wouldn’t do much to save his hide right now. Three against one hardly seems like a hard fight, but if Ruggie is even remotely concerned about the odds it doesn’t show for a second, instead - chances are, they’re just gonna yell it out of their system and then storm off so he can go back to what he was doing. Arguably, that just makes them angrier, and soon enough their heated bickering becomes thinly veiled threats, as though they’re trying to rile him up into instigating something - they want a reaction, an excuse to justify starting a fight, but Ruggie’s not naive enough to fall for that trick.

♡ When he doesn’t, one of the students finally snaps, lunging forward and snagging the collar of Ruggie’s uniform, bunching it up until he can feel knuckles pressed against his throat and he has to tilt his head up to avoid the fist curling underneath his chin. As the other hand rears back, the laid-back smile on his face becomes strained, and Ruggie squares the guy with a pointed stare as though waiting to call their bluff on actually taking a swing. He doesn’t get the chance to find out, as in the next moment the hand’s gone from his collar and Ruggie finds himself looking at the back of a blazer as a new voice joins the scene - one that he recognizes.

♡ He can’t see your face from this angle, but he can hear the hostility in your voice as you square up to the three boys, standing to your full height as you curse them out and order them to back up, asking what the hell they thought they were doing to your boyfriend. And just like that, those three hotheads dissolve into cowering pups right before his eyes, all bumbling words and awkward shifting as they try to talk their way out of the situation they’d been caught red handed in. They’re doing a poor job of it, and you’re clearly not buying it as you fold your arms and fix them with a scowl, taking a step forward as you move to completely shield Ruggie from their view.

♡ Ruggie can count the amount of times someone has actively gone out of their way to protect him on one hand, so the situation is as bizarre as it is entertaining. He feels a smug kind of pride at hearing you declare the word ‘boyfriend’, and hearing the anger in your voice is enough to convince him that it’s for the best to let you handle this whole thing. Still, Ruggie just can’t help but peek over your shoulder as you tear those guys a new one, shooting them a shit eating grin and enjoying the way that their expressions twist into grimaces, pissed but unable to do anything less they risk even more of your rage.

♡ All you have to hear is one of them mention ‘putting him in his place’ for your expression to visibly darken, and all three of them know that they’ve messed up at the sight of your face. You barely even have to feign lunging at them to get all three of them to bolt, just about toppling over each other as they flee down the corridor and round the corner, effectively vanishing from your sight. Even then you wait a beat, listening out for their footsteps until you can’t hear them anymore before you allow the tension to fall from your shoulders. Ruggie thinks that’s the perfect time to chime in, resting his head on the shoulder he was peeking over as he snickers.

♡ “Shishishi~! Did you see the way they ran? Talk about spooked!”

♡ You find yourself chuckling along with him as you look at him out of the corner of your eye, watching his expression carefully before you shift around to fully face him. The first words out of your mouth are words of concern, asking him if he’s okay and if they hurt him in any way. He’s quick to brush off any of your worries, giving you a non-committal shrug and assuring you that he’s fine - he’s dealt with way worse confrontations before, so it’s not skin off his hide now that they’ve scampered off.

♡ You’re not entirely convinced, he can see it in your face as you regard him - you seem to want to press the question on those ‘worse confrontations’, but after a moment you seem to drop it. Instead, you reach out and attempt to straighten out his collar and tie, though both are still a wrinkled mess by the time you’re finished; even so, Ruggie seems to appreciate the sentiment, and that lax grin from before is back as he slides out of your grip. He’s still gotta get back to the dorm, but it wouldn’t hurt to have company on the way back, if his new ‘bodyguard’ wants to tag along~

Azul

♡ Azul’s no stranger to people’s ire - he’s gained more than a few enemies over time, having his fair share of scorned patrons cursing his name before he’d even enrolled at Night Raven college. He’s learned quickly to gauge whether someone’s just blowing off steam or if they’re a serious threat, and he learned even quicker how to deal with those situations accordingly; after all, it’s bad business if you’re busy being hounded by clients looking for a bone to pick. He’s got countermeasures in play, and a few backup plans if things become too dicey for his liking, but he’s fortunately rarely had to use them barring one or two troublesome incidents thanks to the Leech twins.

♡ Floyd and Jade have, of course, been a big help in handling these little confrontations whenever they arise, having nipped most of them in the bud before they’ve even had the chance to darken the doors of the Monstro Lounge, so there’s been a relative peace in the place when people are there to have a good time rather than try and start fights.

♡ Things come to a head when someone actually manages to slip through into the Monstro Lounge, and Azul comes out of his office to the sound of someone shouting his name in a tone that sets the precedent that this is not going to be a peaceful interaction. He sees their face before they even turn to face him - expression twisted up in anger and hands balled at their side as they glare daggers at the other patrons, as if trying to discern if the dorm leader is sitting amongst them. Azul recognizes them immediately, and, upon realizing that the twins aren’t present in the lounge, rationalizes that it’s up to him to smooth things over before they end up disturbing the other patrons and causing too much of a disturbance. And so he plasters on his most neutral, unassuming smile, and greets the new ‘client’, watching them whip around to face him as he steps forward to talk to them.

♡ Azul already knows what they want to talk about - of course he does - he’s learned to keep track of every face that passes through those doors and his interactions with them. And yet he allows them to talk, and get what they want off of their chest; talking to them like this isn’t going to get them anywhere, and it appears they’re more in the mood for yelling than they are for actually talking. So he allows them to rant, if only to calm them down enough until he deems them rational enough to listen to what he has to say; and after a moment this seems to actually have done the trick, as the yelling soon quiets down in frustrated grumbling, and the eyes once drawn to the scene from nearby tables begin to return back to what had previously caught their attention. That’s when Azul finally speaks, extending an offer to finish this conversation back inside his office - after all, he’s sure they didn’t come here simply to make a scene when there’s a peaceful resolution to be reached, right?

♡ It’s with that thought in mind that leads Azul to a momentary slip in judgement - turning his back on the troublesome patron and begins to walk back towards his office, expecting them to follow him. Which they do, with a raised fist. He doesn’t hear them storm after him, but what he does hear is the gasps from onlookers as they watch the person in question rear back their hand, fist aiming right for the back of his head. It should have connected - afterall, they were close enough to have landed the hit, but it never comes.

♡ Instead, a sharp shove at his back has Azul’s stumbling, and not a moment later, he’s spinning around to see what’s going on and finds an unexpected sight. The patron’s sprawled out on the floor, cradling their face in both hands and swearing up a storm as they rock back and forth, nursing what looks like a solid hit to the nose. And towering over them is none other than you, blazer discarded and sleeves rolled up to the elbows as you shake off the hit from your hands, winding up your shoulders as you stare daggers down at his would-be attacker. It doesn’t take a genius to discern what’s just happened in the span of just a few moments, but Azul’s suspicions are all but confirmed when you snap at them to just try and punch him again - watch what happens, you dare them.

♡ Anger flashes across the patron’s face, and for a second Azul truly believes that he’s about to watch a brawl break out between this troublemaker and his girlfriend as both make a move to jump the other. Thankfully for all involved, they don’t get the chance to see that show, as not a moment too soon the twins are there to intervene and split it up before any real fight begins. Jade’s hands are on your shoulder, guiding you back gently but firm enough to ensure that he can pull you away from this fight if you try to push the issue; you reluctantly follow him as he backtracks over to where Azul is standing, still grumbling about it under your breath. Floyd, on the other hand, is all too eager to take care of the one still cradling their face, sporting the beginnings of a bloody nose as they’re hoisted up onto their feet and promptly directed to the nearest exit.

♡ Azul makes a note to deal with that person later - though he’s got a sneaking suspicion that the twins are already well on their way to taking care of that in his stead as Jade leaves to rejoin his brother once you’re standing face to face with their dorm leader. For now, he turns his attention to you, watching you huff and rub idly at the hand you’d punched with as the beginnings of an apology tumble from your lips.

♡ You didn’t mean to get involved and cause so much of a scene, but when he’d turned away and you saw the person rearing back to sock him, you were up from your table and swinging without a second thought. You couldn’t just sit there and let him get hurt, what kind of girlfriend would that make you if you did! You’d never let him get hurt as long as you were around - that was okay...right?

♡ The passion behind your voice is enough to convince him that you mean every word, and you can see his expression soften a little as he takes your hand into his own, thumb brushing over the scuffed skin of your knuckles, red marks becoming visible as a testament to the force behind your punch. Your expression twitches with a flash of discomfort - looks like you’d underestimated the force on your hand; Azul’s not surprised, going above and beyond was a penchant of yours that had gotten you this far, and perhaps what had led to you worming your way into his heart in the first place.

♡ At your expression, Azul gives your hand a pat before taking a step back, using the hold to guide you. He certainly doesn’t mind the protective streak - in fact it’s a rather endearing trait, one that deserves proper compensation in return. But the first order of business is getting that hand tended to, and Azul makes that his priority as he leads them to follow him to his office, pleased when you fall into step with him and follow his lead.

Deuce

♡ Honestly, with how much of a protector can be over his friends, Deuce is in desperate need of someone just as willing to square up for him. He takes their safety seriously, even though part of him knows that realistically they can all take care of themselves just fine if anything actually happened. That still doesn’t stop him from wanting to step in whenever things get dicey, especially whenever it comes to you or your friends, and that either becomes a sweet sentiment, or the bane of your existence depending on how many altercations this ends up dragging him into.

♡ Maybe it's because of this that a fight was bound to break out sooner or later, but for what it’s worth, this one wasn’t actually caused because of him - it was because of Grim. That feline had a habit of breaching people’s boundaries, and sure enough it was just a matter of time before things escalated into a fight before anyone even had a chance to figure out what had even happened. Deuce wasn’t around when it happened, but the sound of yelling had caught his attention and led to him looking into the passing hallway trying to figure out what was going on. He recognized some of the voices, he swears it, and sure enough he finds the owner of those voices right in the center of the hallway, a small circle of people getting into each other's faces.

♡ Both sides are yelling, and at the sight of Ace and Grim smack-dab in the middle of the bickering, Deuce finds himself getting in-between them if only to get the one guy waving his hands around away from his friends before someone got slapped. Almost immediately there’s a hand in his face, an accusatory finger jabbed in his direction as all that anger at his friends is now squared directly on him. Deuce feels himself getting angry the more this guy screams into his face, cutting him off every time Deuce tries to get a word in; it’s clear that he’s not going to get any answers from this guy any time soon, so he calls to his friends behind him, ignoring the shout of ‘Hey, don’t ignore me!’ directed at him as he does so.

♡ Deuce looks away for a second, talking to Ace over his shoulder to try and find out what started this whole thing in the first place, when he feels someone grab a fistful of hair and yanks. Pain blossoms through his scalp and he hisses, a hand flying up to snag the wrist of the guy and wrenching it forward, digging his fingers in to force him to let go only for the hand to grip tighter. There’s another sharp tug, and Deuce can see Ace and Grim diving forward to help him from the corner of his eye, their shouts of protest only seeming to anger the guy more as they round in on him.

♡ But someone else gets there first, and just like that the hand is being wrenched from Deuce’s hair and he hears something go sliding across the floor. Turns out it’s the guy, whose expression is a mix of anger and bafflement as he tries desperately to reach for something behind him - no, someone. There’s a hand wound into the back of the guy’s blazer, hoisted up enough that he has to arch to go along with the item of clothing. The guy tries to reach behind him, but every time another hand peeks out from behind him to swat it away with ease, eliciting frustrated whines when the guy realizes he’s stuck.

♡ Deuce’s face must be priceless as he takes in the scene, watching a familiar head duck out from around the guys shoulder and flash him a grin, giving him a thumbs up. He hadn’t even seen you in the crowd, did you jump in when you saw him getting hurt? A part of him feels bad that you’d seen it happen in the first place, but that’s soon quashed when you turn your focus back to the guy who’d swung, who by this point had lost the gumption to keep swinging and was now just waiting for you to release your grip.

♡ You give it a few more seconds for good measure, before you allow your hold to loosen and you step away, still giving the guy a cautious glance as you move to stand in front of Deuce, Ace and Grim in a protective stance. There’s a beat of tenseness, waiting to see if the fight is going to start back up again, but when the group starts backtracking, retreating to who knows where else, it’s clear that at least for now things have been resolved. And with that out of the way, you turn your attention back to the boys, sticking Grim a pointed stare as you huff out that you’re talking to him about this later.

♡ Then you turn your focus over to Deuce, and he immediately straightens up under your attention waiting for some kind of comment about the confrontation, or maybe a warning for him to be more careful. You take his face into your hands, and though confused, he follows along with your movements as you urge him to look down; he doesn’t know what you’re doing until he feels a hand smooth through his hair, easing the tousled hair back into place as you ask him if it still stings. Your tone is soft, and Deuce finds himself flushing as he hurriedly reassures you that it doesn’t hurt - it’s fine, really! You’re not entirely swayed, but the moment is broken when you hear Grim make a gagging noise telling you to stop being so weird. And just like that your attention is back onto Grim again, fully prepared to choke him with that damn bow as Deuce straightens back up, carding a hand through his hair and trying to will away the pink flush beginning to rise to his cheeks.

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dreamieofu · 4 years ago

Text

100 Reasons Why

pairing; classmate!haechan x reader - mention of other members word count; 8.0k genre; strangers to lovers!au, classmates to lovers!au, angst, fluff, slice of life, slowburn(?) tw; alcohol consumption; (i’m not saying everyone was drinking, it’s just mentioned) pls let me know if there are others.! summary; you’ve been in love with haechan for the longest time, and when both your parents go on a business trip; you’re both left alone.

a/n: hi, honestly i wrote this with no prior thoughts. mostly written blindly and i wrote so much of it, but i couldn’t just delete it... so i finished it lmao. i hope you enjoy it though, i kinda like it haha. please don’t hesitate to give me feedback >:( yeah... i have no clue. enjoy ♡♡♡

You had a 100 reasons why you shouldn’t be in love with Haechan. Biggest reason? He was your bestfriend’s crush. She fancied him for the longest time, dare say you did longer. But she was vocal about it first. And everyone knows the rules of dibs. You’d sulk around it forever, listening to her words about Haechan, knowing full well and agreeing with all the compliments she’d praise him with.

You and Haechan are in the same class, have been for years. But the year of blooming cherry trees and spring flowers, you fell in love.

The way the sun peaked through the strands of his hair, the kiss of warmth on his skin and the glow that was shining from his eyes as laughter hugged his smile. You couldn’t help but stare, and you found yourself doing so, shamelessly on different days. His soothing voice echoing through the classroom as he joked around with friends. You and Haechan weren’t the closest pair of classmates, you only had your bestfriend for the most part. But that didn’t stop you from overanalysing every little thing Haechan did in relation to you. That one day he opened the door for you, or when he’d ask to borrow your pencil. Tiny interactions that were all stored in your heart, but… You never really did anything about it. A part of you gave up on the fact that Haechan would notice you anything different than from a classmate. You didn’t really stand out, you blended in the background. Never had top marks, or the lowest. You were average. Nothing in comparison to your bestfriend. Not only did she have the beauty, she also had personality. She was undoubtedly one of the most prettiest girls in your class. But she was a dear friend, someone you didn’t want to fight over with, because of a boy.

“Did you see Haechan today? Wasn’t he so handsome? I think he did something different to his hair,” She grinned, lips wide and eyes sparkling. You smile meekly at her words, biting into your lunch. You noticed he did change something with his hair, but you didn’t want to speak up in case you were wrong. Lunches were usually filled with comments about Haechan, other than small talk about other news. Your days revolved around him though, regardless of anything. Especially with your bestfriend giggling with hearts all over her head thinking about Haechan. You were sat near the far back of the lunch hall, Haechan just a few tables away with his friends. Some weren’t from your class, again confirming how sociable he was. You always admired his way with people, regardless of his teasing and extroverted behaviour. He was really likeable to everyone he met. You watch as your bestfriend turned around, evidently catching eyes with Haechan as he sent over a slight smile in her direction. A bit of jealousy tapping at your heart as you diverted your attention from their little interaction, beginning to play with your food. From the corner of your eye, you were greeted by a pair of black converse, gaze following up the legs of the figure to meet eyes with none other than, Haechan. “Mind if I take a seat?” His voice like honey, and you’re all flustered that you don’t respond at all. Your bestfriend however, bravely reached out for his wrist and gently brought him towards her side of the table. “Yes.”

“-Urm, weird to say but my friends told me to come over and say hello,” He confesses, looking back and gesturing at the boys who were laughing to themselves at the table. He turns back to look at your bestfriend, a sweet smile, as he proceeds “One of them has a crush on you.” Haechan’s words were direct, to the point and he looked so cool and unbothered, hand clasped in front of him. You again, couldn’t stop your staring. Eyeing the rings on some of his fingers. Then again, it made sense why he would say that, it wasn’t the first time someone tried to pursue your bestfriend. You look at her though, to find her a bit defeated that Haechan wasn’t the one with the crush. “Which one?” She asked curiously looking back at the boys, a small pout playing on her lips as Haechan looks at her. He coughs briefly into one of his fists, turning his body to look back with her, “You see the guy with the silver hair, that’s Jaemin -“ Haechan proceeds to explain about Jaemin, helping her distinguish which boy it was. She nods along with his words, “I see…” She speaks softly, she stays watching Jaemin for a few moments while Haechan has his attention back at the table. You catch his view, and he smiles at you. His hair was different, now that you’re looking at him closely. Honey locks, and the way it was styled all messy. It suited him, all too well. You return the smile back earnestly, giving him a small but awkward wave. His smile only grew bigger at your gesture. “Hey,” Haechan finally greets you, his gaze familiar. Your bestfriend turns back from hearing his words, “Did you do something to your hair?” She speaks up, breaking the moment between you two. His eyes leave you and falls back on her, a hand reaching to the back of his head to ruffle his hair a bit. “Yeah, did you notice?” You managed to catch a tinge of red at the top of his ears. His hand moves to pat his hair back in place but your bestfriend is twice as bold, doing it for him. She hums in response, “Yeah, I really like it. Don’t you Y/N?” You clench your jaw, to swallow the nerves. Haechan’s soft eyes returning to yours. Even with him looking at you, your eyes divert toward her hand at his neck. The way she grazes the small tip of her nails against the back of his head, with her wrist relaxed at the crook of this neck. “I like your hair,” your words simple, a reassuring nod at his way as he beams at your response. “Also…Tell Jaemin, I’m not really interested. I like someone else,” Your bestfriends words were suggestive to him, and honest as she scrunches her nose. Already grabbing his attention once more. By now she was used to rejecting boys, although she’s had her fair share of her tiny flings. Her eyes were always set to Haechan after each boy. It discouraged you because you never did get your chance with him, even platonically. She was always first to pick. With her hand still at his neck, Haechan peeled it off. Hands returning back to his sides, glancing down at you for a split-second. “Alright cool, I’ll be sure to tell him,” He uses his hands on the table to help push himself off the seat before he made his way back to his original table. Your heart following his walk, as you sigh to your bestfriend who too was watching him leave. “Do you think Haechan got the clue? That I’m into him?” She speaks mostly to herself, her hand blindly out for yours in seconds looking for comfort. You slowly look away after seeing Haechan, who is now sat back down continuing his talk with his friends. You notice Jaemin shrugging at Haechan’s words, continuing off. And they all laugh. “I mean, you were kinda obvious… It was hard to read him,” You tell her, this time squeezing her hand back reassuringly. She only nods at your response, before letting go and carrying on with her little ‘ I wonder if Haechan… etc.’ for the rest of the lunch break. Your mind not focusing, the only thing you were thinking about was his smile.

That same day, you arrived home to be greeted with emptiness. Confused you make your way through the entry until you hear chatter in the living room. Your head popping through the doorway for you to squeak a small noise. What’s he doing at your house? From the small glance you gathered, your parents, Haechan and his… parents? It was quiet, probably due to your abrupt appearance. Your back against the wall next to the doorway, hands in your face. Your mind couldn’t really process it all, but you’re called back to reality when your parents call your name. Your head sprung up, and you drop your bag slowly trying to gain composure. You exhale a puff, hands flattening your clothes. You make your way back into the view of the doorway, small steps and eyes definitely avoiding everyone. The atmosphere was without a doubt awkward, close to unbearable especially since you felt everyone’s stare piercing though you as you walked further into the room. “Over here darling,” Your mum calls out for you softly as you waddle towards her voice. Her hand padding the extra seat next to her on the couch. You sat in between your parents, finally raising your head from the wooden flooring. Haechan and his parents offered you encouraging smiles, as you made yourself more comfortable. They’re sat across from you, another couch in your rather large living room. Open curtained windows behind them, as the sunset defined Haechan’s frame with a soft glow. You curse at yourself for not being more composed. You look back to your mum as her hand rubs your back briefly. “Y/N, this is the Lee family. We were just discussing plans about an upcoming business trip me and your father have to go on. You know, the one I spoke to you about yesterday,”.

You scanned your mothers features, furrowing your eyebrows trying to remember what she told you. “Anyway, the Lee family will also be joining us. And we decided as a collective that it would be better if Haechan stayed with you whilst we were all gone,” She continued explaining through your silence, eyes diverting between the Lee family and you. Your mind slowly linking the information you were digesting.

Another reason you couldn’t be in love Haechan. Both your parents worked in the same company. Although, there’s no real reasoning behind that. It felt weird how your parents would talk about how you were classmates. You’ve spent time with each other outside of school, on brief occassions, but you never really spoke to Haechan. The continuation of praise that beckoned Haechan was never ending, and you were all here for it. Lee Haechan was a piece of work. You always felt undeserving of him.Your whole world had echo’s of him, it was hard for you to distract your mind from him. Sometimes, it was confusing to figure out how your memories seemed like they were all connected with him in the background. It was strange, how frequent a boy would be mentioned and how much he was present around in your life, without the both of you being close friends. You never pushed friendship onto him either, partly because of the opposite personalities. But could it be that this was an oppoirtunity that could ignite something closer between the both of you? Your mind then drifted to your bestfriend, only imagining the kind of reaction she’d have once she hears Haechan would be staying with you for a couple of days.

“Is that alright with you Y/N?” Your dad’s voice rings you away from your thoughts, and you find yourself looking at Haechan as he said his words. It wasn’t the first time you’ve been left alone whilst your parents had to go for a business trip. Maybe it was because this trip was a lot longer than other ones, they couldn’t leave you alone. A guess: Haechan would also be left alone. These thoughts weighted down, as you tried to find excuses for this arrangement. In all honesty, you didn’t know how you felt. Sure your house had the right amount of rooms, it would be fine for the most part. It was just a week or so. You could handle that.

“If it’s okay with Haechan, it’s okay with me,” You nod. Your eyes never left each other, as Haechan gives you a warm smile. He felt reassuring, like this was completely normal. As if both your parents weren’t leaving a the both of you alone for a week.

It was a Saturday when Haechan would be making his way over to your house. Your parents went over rules, about which numbers to call, what to do in a certain situation, never hesitate to call them for any extra money and most importantly, be nice to Haechan. You spent most the morning cleaning up the house, so it was well presented for the Lee family’s arrival. Today was the day your parent’s were going to leave. Nervous was an understatement for how you felt. It was around midday when you heard a ring at the main door. You were in your bedroom, listening in, as your parents invited them into the house. Everything was all set. “Y/N! Aren’t you coming down to say goodbye?” You mum calls out for you. You quickly pace down the stairs, with a genuine smile as you greet Haechan’s parents. A little small talk, and you notice Haechan wasn’t with them. You tried your best to give them all of your attention but, your mind couldn’t help but drift off to where he could be once you realised his absence. Wasn’t he meant to keep you company? Your thoughts were confirmed as your dad came jogging towards everyone, Haechan’s presence following behind. Fitted in a big white tee and black shorts. You would never get used to him with casual wear on. You start feeling a little flustered the moment he was steps away from you. His graceful smile now held by his cheeks, you even swear you saw a small tinkle in his eyes as they finally approach the group.

“Ready to go?” Your dad speaks, an arm reaching past you towards the luggage. You guess your dad was escorting Haechan to one of the guest rooms before he came down the stairs. There was a mumble of agreements, before you exchanged farewells and hugs with your parents. Haechan does the same.

You both watch them leave into the car before the air between you got thicker. Your parents really left you with Lee Haechan.

A lump is formed in your throat as silence swims between you and Haechan. He’s first to speak, “Hey, I know we never really spoke, or really had a choice about this. But thank you for welcoming me into your home.” His voice was assured and was lined with concern for you. His back leaning against the hallway wall, small strands of hair framing his forehead. His calm aura already making you nervous. Maybe because of the kind of energy you were giving off. You didn’t want to meet his eyes. This has been the first time you’ve ever been properly left alone with Haechan. “It’s nothing really,” speaking softly, “I see you around in school, we’re in the same class,” You try making conversation with him. Hearing his laugh makes you bring your head up towards him, “I know that,” He confirms with you, his hand forward harmlessly nudging the side of your arm. You laugh with him, feeling relaxed. He really knew how to lighten the mood. “Would you like to watch a movie?” You suggest, it felt like the best option. You didn’t need to talk with him, and it made time pass by. You weren’t really expecting anything much, but he chuckles at your suggestion. “Nah, we’re going to throw a small party,” a devilsh sly smirk grows on his expressions, as your eyes widen at his statement. “We’re young, our parents are literally out of town. This is the perfect opportunity!” He grins, already pulling out his phone tapping away. His back lifts up from the wall.

“But- The house will be a mess… I haven’t got anything to prepare for it. How many people will come? I don’t think I can pull this off. Are you out of your mind? A party? I don’t know,” Your mind is running your mouth, you knew Haechan was popular. But a party? First night he comes over at yours? ‘I mean, it is a Saturday’ you thought to yourself.

“Don’t worry so much, just a few friends. And I promise, I’ll do the cleaning,” His hand motions towards your face, bringing his small pinky out for you to link yours with, marking a promise. “Okay.”

“I cannot believe. Lee. Haechan. Is staying at your house for a week.” You bestfriends words squeal near your ear, as she combs your hair. You called her earlier to tell her about Haechan’s plans, and to ask her a favour. You wanted to look pretty for this whole, ‘Party’. You wanted to show Haechan you were confident, that you could be pretty too. “Tell me about it,” your eyes scan yourself in your mirror. You put a little more effort in your looks, and even if Haechan didn’t see your efforts. You still felt beautiful nonetheless. “I’m so jealous though, all that free time you’ll have with him.” She trails on, but you actually felt really nervous. A week is sort of a long time, if he’s so spontaneous like this, you have no clue what tricks he had up his sleeve. He said he’d invite around 6 of his friends, to not worry you. A small bit of him urging you to also invite your bestfriend, exaggerating how Jaemin is still interested and then maybe he can meddle between and make them all ‘buddy buddy’ with each other. You’re wearing casual clothes, something that flattered your figure. Nothing too tight fitting or too revealing, but you thought this was a nice look on you. It seems your bestfriend also thought so, by the way she would gleam at you, as you stood up from your chair, away from the mirror. “I have no idea why you don’t try to look like this, always,” She teases you as your eyes roll. You wipe your slightly clammy hands against your denim jeans before pressing your lips together. You both hold hands as you walk out of the bedroom, skipping down the stairs.

Haechan changed clothes, from his lounging shorts to some nice trousers and a fitted shirt. You couldn’t help but trail your eyes by his waistline, following the motion of his legs as he places a bowl of snacks on the table in the living room. You feel your pace get slower as your bestfriend squeezes your hand. A silent message most probably similar to the way you were feeling. Haechan’s hair framed his face just right, his gaze looking up from his eyelashes as he catches your presence at the foot of the staircase. His posture gracefully straightens, eyes never leaving yours as he does so. But what you don’t notice is the way he would look you up and down for a short moment, a small smile forms barely at the corner of his left lip.

“So when is everyone making their way?” Your bestfriend perks up, letting go of your hand to leap on the couch, her hair flowing behind her. He glances at his watch, as you find a seat. “Alcohol…” You mutter, mostly to yourself. You’re not too familiar with alcohol, but you guess a party without alcohol wouldn’t be a party. “They should be arriving anytime now,” Haechan answers, he places himself next to your bestfriend though. Opposite you. Your heart slightly inflates watching how his arm reaches out to spread against the couch. His hand slightly grazing the back of your bestfriend as they look at each other. She moves her body, to be more faced towards him. They start small talk, and you feel kind of left out. Rolling your shoulders back, your hand absentmindedly grabs hold of the neck of the nearest alcohol bottle to you. You grab three cups, although they’re too busy to mind you, you still pour them a drink. Maybe swinging a little extra in your cup as you pour the mixers after. You make a small gesture to slide the drinks towards them. You gulp down a few sips, before the door rings. Figuring that they’re still immersed in their own company, you make way to the door holding onto your cup as you open it.

You’re greeted by 6 other guys, all admittingly handsome. You’re familiar with their faces seeing as you attend the same school, they’re loud as they make their way through the door. Your gaze falls back watching them pile into the living room. You overhear Haechan’s excited voice as they all talk over each other. You look at your cup before deciding to just, drink it all. After doing so, you shut the front door. A small fuzz settling in your mind as you pave your way back to the now dimly lit living room.

As the night played on, you got more comfortable and decided this wasn’t that bad. Even though you had small but reasonable amount of drinks in you. It fuelled you with that confidence, to speak up and actually enjoy yourself. You actually found yourself laughing along with them. You’d sometimes catch eyes with Haechan’s. But you chose to ignore it, to focus your energy on letting yourself really enjoy this moment. Besides your bestfriend seemed to be just as confident as you, but ten-fold as she clings onto his side most the night. “You know, Y/N, you’re actually kinda cute.” The boy Renjun speaks out as the laughter quieted down, taking a swing at his beer. This made you feel shy, everybody's eyes slowly falls onto you, putting you in the hotseat. “You don’t talk much in class do you?” Mark calls out after before you could say anything. Your nibble on the inside of your bottom lip, you weren’t sure how to respond. Somehow you look at Haechan, finding something to say, “I guess I don’t really talk often,” You trail on, giving Mark a small smile. Haechan notices a dimple on the left side of your cheek. Mark returns an even bigger smile, “You should, you’re really funny too,” Jisung sings, your bestfriend speaks in agreeement with him. All this sudden attention really started to make you nervous, so you just drank more of your drink.

“I think we should hang out more often,” Jaemin resorts, his eyes now on your bestfriend whilst saying so. She giggles though, and agrees. You guess, maybe you’ve gained more than just confidence from this party. But more friends. Your bestfriend, flips her hair and claps once, gaining everyone’s attention. “And with that being said. Shouldn’t we get to know each other more?” She cocks up one of her eyebrows teasingly eyeing everyone.“Never have I ever…” She continues, a grin reaching her lips, “snuck out the house,”. The sentence she chose wasn’t as out there as you’d originally thought, but gingerly enough you take a small sip. Noticing a few other people doing so. The next few ‘never have I ever,’ questions felt innocent until… “Never have I ever been kissed,” Jeno smirks and everyone takes a gulp besides you. This doesn’t go unnoticed by others as you start to feel awkward under their stare. “No way? For real?” Jeno speaks after, his question moreorless directed towards you. You bite on your lower lip, feeling a little inexperienced from everyone else. But you nod at him, “I’ve never been in a relationship,” You confess with a shrug. Your bestfriend points a finger towards the boys her next words suggestive and intoxicated, “Maybe one of you can snatch her up,” She teases, giving you playful eyebrows. You laugh at her words, but hear near to nothing else from anyone else. The tension in the air shifted a little. You glance towards Haechan to find him already looking at you. Even with your eyes connected for those few moments you couldn’t really read what emotions he had behind them. You look at the other boys, feeling shy under Haechan’s gaze. “I hope you know she’s not being serious,” You attempt to make the atmosphere lighter, and back to playful. Chenle speaks first, “You never know…” taking a sip from his drink. It’s not that you didn’t want a relationship, you were just not given the opportunity. “Whatever,” you reply back. You all continue the game, but as the night continues Haechan can’t get his mind off the fact that you’ve never been kissed.

The night was fun, but soon died out as the night got later. People made their way home. Your bestfriend kisses both your cheeks before blowing a last one to Haechan’s direction as she slips out the front door. You shut it behind her, leaning back on the door and sighing. Your eyes shut, tiredness holding them down as you stand there. You really had a lot of fun, a new memory as you playback some moments that happened tonight. “So I’m guessing you enjoyed yourself?” Haechan’s voice wakes you from a sleepless daze, as you open your eyes. He’s stood closer to you than you thought from the sound of his voice. Your eyes take in his features, realising the height difference a tad bit from the closeness. You nod slowly at his words, “I did… I had a lot more fun than I thought. I like your friends, they were really nice to me I think,” You speak your thoughts, looking at his shirt. “Well, you are a cute girl… Boy’s are always nice to cute girls,” Haechan interrupts with his voice clear and laced with no other intention but to edge you on. You narrow your eyes at his comment about to say something, but he turns his heel making his way to the guest room. “Goodnight, Y/N. And as promised I’ll clean it up tomorrow,” He waves one of his hands in the air, turning his head behind his shoulder to give you one of your favourite smiles unknowningly. You watch him leave, as your heartbeat becomes more prominent. His words highlighted as you repeat in your head: “He thinks I’m cute?”

You woke up the next morning to the sun behind your eyelids. Blindly searching for your phone, checking the time. It was 1pm, you slept in. You get out from the bed and brush out your hair, and clean your teeth. Your feet padding towards the guest room, to knock on this door to see if he was awake. When you get no answer, you find the living room clean. As promised. That brings a smile to your face knowing that Haechan really did stick to his words. Before you know it, you hear keys behind the front door. Haechan swings the door open with his foot keeping it placed open as he holds groceries most probably for breakfast and coffee with his other hands. You’re quick to meet him, a “Good Morning,” exchanged in whispers as you help him hold the things. He follows behind you into the kitchen, “I bought breakfast,” He states the obvious, taking a seat at the table, his hand reaching for an energy drink from one of the paper bags.

“Thank you, but you didn’t have too. Also… thanks for cleaning up,” He grins at your words, taking a sip from the drink. His hand reaches out to ruffle your head a little too roughly. Taken aback, your hand shadows after his, fixing your hair. “It’s nothing really, it wasn’t even that messy. Don’t mention it,” You nod at his words, reaching for the eggs in the bag. You get up from the seat to grab a frying pan, “So how do you like your eggs?” You offer to make the breakfast as compensation from him doing all that cleaning and purchasing some things for breakfast. He gleams at your direction, his eyes curving as you turn on the cooker. “I’m good with any,”.

Days went by really quickly, considering how you also had a week off school. You spent a lot of time with Haechan and his friends. Your bestfriend included, but it was during night, when the streets were empty, and where the street lamp would slightly cast over the living room whilst you had late night talks with Haechan. Mostly about random things. It was nice getting to know him, knowing more than how you’d perceive him in class. And each time, he’d confirm everything you thought you already knew about his personality. It was a nice feeling, getting to know each other, and laughing. You really begun to feel comfortable with him, and you thought there was a chance, maybe he felt the same.

“You know, I have noticed you before. Hard not to… My parents talk about you sometimes at home,” He confessed into the night.

It became silent, and you could feel your heatbeat against your temple as he fidget’s with the end of his sleeves. “Same,” You reply, noticing his small habits of nervousness. This Haechan was different from the upbeat one that he’d always portay himself as in front of his friends. You always thought he was the happiest and that he would always carry the mood of the group. But this Haechan who sat across from you, felt real. More real than you thought, in a weird sense. Like all the good things about him were undeniable, but in this moment he feels vulnverable. He feels down to earth. A comfortable silence surrounds you, and the lights from the street glazes his eyes, like he was gifted all the stars in the universe. He shines so brightly even under the moonlight. His lips slightly parted, as he watches his hands. It’s been a few days, and soon this little thing you have going on will come to an end. Although you have no clue what will happen, you feel grateful to the times you did spend together. He makes being around him feel easy, he was really understanding and took his time with you. “I’m really glad we got to know each other better,” You smile to yourself shamlessly, avoiding his eyes. You could hear him chuckle a small bit, and it makes you feel warm inside. “You’re not too bad yourself,” His fist gently nudges your shoulder playfully. You laugh with him, and suddenly meet eyes.

There were a shift in his gaze, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. He looks at you through his eyelashes, and you can’t help but scan his expression. The tiny moles that were on his face, the natural soft shaped heart of his lips. He really was beautiful. Haechan doesn’t look past this though, his eyes never leaving yours as your mind rolls, he watches the way your eyes flicker between his facial features. His heart tightening a bit as he shifts in his position, you’re watching him none the obvious but he still doesn’t speak out about how your staring makes him a bit shy. “I liked spending time with you. It was fun,” He continues, in attempt to make you stop your movements. You sink, shyness from his words making your frame appear smaller. Your eyes now averted. Suddenly hyperaware that you were staring, again.

The atmosphere being a bit too much for your soft heart you blurt out, “You know, my bestfriend likes you.” It was random, and althought you didn’t mean to tell him the way she felt towards him. Having want to put yourself out there. Somehow, she came to mind in that moment. Furrowing your eyebrows your mind drifts; thinking about how you always felt that she was more deserving of Haechan, that they suited each other more. You don’t know what came over you, your mind scattered with thoughts of what if’s and questions. Haechan’s been kind to you during the whole time he was staying with you. A part of you felt as though, maybe that’s all there was to it. He was just a kind-hearted person. There’s no real way he was ever going gain such romantical intentions with you, within a span of a few days. For some reason your feelings for him, that have been living rent free in your mind, have blinded you and painted a picture you knew was far from your true reality. Maybe having this friendship, was enough for you. And you didn’t want to change that. “I know,” He says with a shrug, “She makes it kind of obvious,” Haechan’s soft laugh calms you down. Your inner mind agreeing, that it was okay if Haechan never reciprocated your feelings. Maybe you’d just have to move on from it, but there was no denying you did grow a whole lot closer and more comfortable with each other. Maybe more than you both could have imagined.

Your heart felt confused. Ever since Haechan went back home, you felt as if things have changed. When you said goodbye to each other after your parents came back, you didn’t know it was going to be a real one. When you got back to school, it was like the whole time you spent together was a dream. He didn’t approach you, at all.

And it hurt, because this whole time you thought it was a step forward to building something with him. Anything with him. But you’re proven wrong. You wanted to talk to him, ask him why he wouldn’t talk to you. But you didn’t feel like you were in the position to question his motives. It wasn’t like you could talk to anyone about how inwardly frustrated this made you feel. He was his own person, and nothing during that week together established that he needed to keep in contact with you at all. You were still hopeful though. So seeing him walk along the hallways with his friends, and have him walk past you. Made you feel empty. You wanted to understand him, figure it all out. His friends still kept in contact with you, but they rarely spoke about Haechan. Your mind just wondered why he didn’t keep in contact the same. Scenarios of: Maybe If I was more obvious with my feelings, would he have spoken to me? Did I do something wrong? All those nights, where you’d catch him taking another energy drink from the fridge at midnight while he was playing his computer games, for him to stop and have long conversations with you, were all empty to him. You were just the main company he had around. You had no reason feeling this way, but yet you feel some sort of betrayal. Days went by where you’d go to sleep thinking about Haechan more often than not, trying to figure out a way to talk to him. Thinking about the way he’d tell you jokes in the morning to wake you up with smiles, as you ate breakfast together. How he sometimes would shout at his laptop as he games at one in the morning. Times where he’d feel lonely and want to play in the living room so you could watch and cheer him on. Others just, because it felt nice being in each others presence even when you weren’t doing anything.

You really missed the sound of his voice. Maybe this was another reason to try stop this feeling you have toward Haechan. Even after all these years, you still couldn’t connect to him even if it felt almost effortless when you were alone in his presence.

It’s been three weeks since Haechan left your house. You heard something about the Lee Family coming over for dinner tonight, a part of you wondered if Haechan would join. Feeling not so surprised that he didn’t show up. His parents gave the excuse he had other things going on, so he had to make a rain check. After the business trip, it seemed your family and his enjoyed each others company even more so than before. You thought it was nice that your parents also had friends they could invite home more regularly. But your mind still seemed to drift off about Haechan as you played with your food at the dinner table. You kind of just, expected things to follow this pattern after the first week of him not trying. So you tried your best to let it go, by finding other things to preoccupy your mind. It was working so far, but it was hard doing so when you were sharing a meal with his parents and he falls in as the subject of the conversation. Ending the meal, you helped clean up afterwards, before making your way to your room. Jogging up the stairs towards your room, you switch on the light in your bedroom to be welcomed with a notification. Your phone lighting up by your table dresser with a *ding* , you walk towards it and see several messages from your bestfriend.

Missed call (1)

[8:09pm] bestie: pick up ur phone!!

[8:09pm] bestie: you’ll never guess who asked to meet up !!!!!

[8:10pm] bestie: hello..!!!! r u here??

[8:15pm] bestie: omg slowpoke.!! it was haechan

[8:15pm] bestie: msg me when you get this x

You literally feel weak, mindlessly walking backwards to sit at the edge of your unmade bed. Your thumbs barely touching the screen as you re-read the messages over again to ensure you weren’t hallucinating. Your bestfriend was the raincheck he needed to take to skip out on having dinner with you? You choke back on small tears, you feel stupid. You almost laugh at the fact that he was able to be in contact with her rather than you. It bothered you a lot more than it should considering how you’ve been left out in the dark. But still, it affected you just as much. The constant questions of ‘why?’ Being hung on a thin thread. It was so clear now, he didn’t like you or have intentions of doing so. Platonic or not. Your back falls onto your comforter, a dramatic sigh leaves your lips as you stare at your glow in the dark sticker stars on the ceiling. You decided you wanted the final answer to come from him. You couldn’t deal with the distant gazes you noticed that he’d give you in class sometimes, without him coming to talk to you. The way he would walk and smile around like you were nothing but a classmate. You were so foolish to actually find him as a friend, from all the moments you shared together during that week. Even before. Dumbfound you tap your head with your hand palm flat, groaning inwards. You were going to find him, and ask him.

It takes you an hour of prep-talking to yourself about the pro’s and con’s about going to find him at this hour of the day. Not knowing where he is, what he’s doing. But the feeling was eating you alive, to the point where you couldn’t properly think. Your mind blank, as you swipe your phone unlocked. You search for his name in your contacts, eyes tight shut as you press the call button. Your hand on your heart trying to calm the nerves, while the other hand held the phone by your ear. You pace around your room, listening to the phone ring a few times.

He actually answers.

You then realise how much you really did miss the honey like tone of his voice as he speaks, “Hello?”. You stop your walking, taking the phone away from your ear to double check you’ve actually called him. “Hello…?” He calls again, whining a little impatiently. You cough up courage and say, “Hey.” You give yourself a questioning look, hearing nothing else on the other end of the phone, partly also because of your bluntness. “I wanted to call you, I think we need to talk,” You continue. You hear a small sigh, and shuffling. Sounding like he’s fixing his position. There’s silence in the call, a few moments before he replies you with, “I agree, can you meet me?” You feel shocked because his words were so quick to decide. “Okay,” you reply, looking around your room. “Now?” You question. He laughs lightly over the phone, hearing how frantic you sound. “Yeah, why not? I’ll pick you up in a few.” He confirms with you, before you could say anything else, he hangs up. You were in disbelief, you rush to put a cardigan on and grab your keys and phone. You decided it was easier for you to leave and wait outside, his parents were still downstairs. You jog down the stairs and shout. “I’ll be home in a bit!” Before anyone could reply, you slip out the door.

The cold air meets you as you stand outside your house. You didn’t really know how you felt. It didn’t take as long as you thought before Haechan pulls up and climbs out the cab. There he was walking towards you, dreamy as ever. And all your pent up anger and questions disappeared with each step he took in your direction. The way he smiled upon seeing you reset everything, and you’re weak in the knees. Once he got close enough to you, you swore that being with him felt right.

“Let’s go for a walk,” You suggest, quick at the balls of your feel to turn left towards the park. Street lights marking the way, as you felt him walk next to you. It was silent at the beginning of the walk. The sound of your footsteps and the cars driving by was all you could hear besides you heart. “Your parents are at my house,” You explain, hoping to break the ice. You hide your palms under your sleeves, as he laughs inwardly, “I know…” You furrow your eyebrows as he follows your steps.

“Why didn’t you join?” A part of you knew already, thanks to your bestfriend telling you so, but another part wanted you to hear about it from him. You chew on your lip before looking up to him, he looked a bit sad. You didn’t notice until now, he felt a bit sluggish. Shoulders lower than usual and so you stopped walking. By now you’ve arrived the end of the street, you mindlessly reached out for his hands. You hold both your hands together shocking the both of you. He’s quick to look at you, obvious confusion at your actions, but grateful nonetheless. “Are you okay?” You speak softly, trying to coax him into telling you everything. He sighs at your words, “You’re really nice and gentle to me,” He confesses, and it takes you aback. “Thank you,” you whisper trying to understand.

“I wanna apologise for being a dick and not talking to you these past few weeks,” He genuinely feels sorry, and your heart softens at his confession. The glow the streetlight gave above him made him look sympathetic, his cheeks kinda rosy due to the cool air. His hands move from you holding his hands, to the other way around. Hands over yours, “I just wanted to understand my feelings,” You raise your eyebrows at him, “Feelings…?” repeating his words, mind spiralling out all of the possibilities behind his words. Maybe about your bestfriend, because he met her earlier. You let go of the grasp he had with your hands, easily letting it fall to your sides. His hands follow but you don’t notice as he looked even more distraught. “About you.” He finishes his sentence, you don’t believe him though. Your arms crossing over your chest, eyes narrowed at him. His lips are jutted out a little, eyes slightly closed wanting you to read his thoughts. But then again, he always struggled to get the right words across to you. He’s tried for years, but you never seemed to get a clue. You were always off gazing at clouds, and walking with your head down. His week spent with you, alone, solidified his feelings. They never left, he’s always been interested in you. And getting to know you really intensified it all, he was going crazy about you. But on the night he was going to confess to you, you brought up your bestfriend. “What about me?” You ask, not being able to understand him at all, or where it was all coming from. He doesn’t answer you though, his hand goes towards the side of your face to gently caress it. His hands were soft too, the way his fingertips traced your cheek made you flustered. “I like you,” He confesses enernestly. But you scoff at his words, moving your face away from his touch. But he just lets you figure it out yourself, and believe him. Watching the way your facial features would relax under his silence. “But my bestfriend?” You question, still having doubts. He just shakes his head, running one of his hands to push his hair back. It’s grown longer, his hair. And you don’t let it go unnoticed. “I did meet her today, but only because I wanted to ask about you,” His hair falls infront of his face again, eyes still casted over with truth, and you start to believe him. “I wanted to ask her how you were, and if you felt anything for me,” He speaks before knitting his brows together, “I know that was stupid, and I could have asked you but… I- I dont know, I couldn’t face you.” He went off rambling. He was true to his words, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his rambling.

He finishes his sentences with, “I like you,” confessed again, but with more confidence. “And I know about your bestfriend, blah-blah I don’t really care. She told me she thinks you like me too,” Now that had your full attention, she knew all along. “She told me it takes a while for you to get out your shell… and I’m really going to try my best with you. I have it all figured out, I just need you to let me?” He asks, feelings unwavering as he smiles slightly at your expression, your eyes twinkling under the moonlight, and the streetlight making a soft glow on your face. He curses to himself about how cute you looked in your clothes. “I like you a lot, Haechan.” You smile back at him. He’s quick to wrap you in his arms to hold you close and spin you around once. You cling onto him, arms around his neck as he stops. Your faces inches away from each other. His hold on you softens, as you slide down his embrace, eyes locked. Your feet reaching the ground as you both hold that close proximity between you. His arms never leave your waist.

“I know you said, you’ve never been kissed,” He whispers, lips inches away from yours. And you roll your eyes at what he says, about to pull away from his embrace before he firmly holds you back, “Can I be your first?”.

You nod slowly before watching him lower his head, lips just about grazing yours. You watch him flutter his eyes closed as you mirror him. Haechan really kisses you. A simple kiss, filled with much more love than you would have thought, the way it was so gentle. You couldn’t wrap your mind around it, as butterflies lifted you to cloud nine. He pulls away, before recapturing your lips between his. With more intent and deeper, your hands finding purchase in his hair pulling him close. His lips were so soft, and he really kisses you like everything he said was true. And for once, you let yourself decide. Maybe you can be in love with Haechan, and he kisses you with 100 reasons why.

#aaaa #i have no clue #haechan scenarios #haechan fluff #nct haechan scenarios #nct scenarios #donghyuck scenarios #donghyuck fluff #nct dream scenarios #haechan imagines #donghyuck imagines #haechan x you

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brycelahelas · 5 years ago

Text

take care

rating: mature

book: open heart

summary: God. God. It was a bad idea going here. You want nothing more than to head to the bathroom and crawl out the window and just fucking run wherever the hell your legs take you. You want to run until the ache in your legs makes you forget all of your memories tainted with Rafael, until your lungs constrict to the point that you forget what it felt like to have Rafael’s lips on yours.

Maybe Landry had it right. Maybe emotions do hold us back. And maybe that’s your fatal flaw: you feel and care and love too much to the point that it bites you in the ass. It always did, in the end.

word count: 8000+

notes: THIS TOOK SO LONG FOR NO REASON....literally took me four weeks to complete bc i cannot finish anything in a timely manner. but i hope you all enjoy this 8k+ piece. i love to see interaction so pls reblog and like if you enjoyed! and let me know what you think of it! you can also read this on ao3 here.

dedicated to my lover my wife my shawty my life miss jade... happy birthday!!!

tagging: @zadiechoi @zigtheeortega @senatorraines @bigtoughswordboy (if you would like to be added to the list let me know!)

Of all the emotions you could be feeling right now, you find that, at the core of it all, you feel nothing.

This feeling isn’t indifference. Because if it were, you wouldn’t have this ache reverberating all over your body. And although you have a heightened sense of the blood coursing through your veins, of your heart pulsating against your chest, you bite your tongue, shake Sora’s hand, and say nothing when she kisses Rafael goodbye.

When she leaves, you look him in the eyes, sharply inhaling as you struggle to say, “You two are cute together.”

“You think so?” he answers, careful with his words as he eyes Bryce warily. When Bryce gets the message and leaves to greet Ethan, Rafael looks at you once again, eyes almost apologetic. You’re suddenly aware of the distance between you two and the tension that has settled in the air. As he moves closer towards you, you instinctively step forward, but upon realizing what you’re doing, you move back, away from the arms that you know so well, away from the man who once loved you.

He notices this and frowns, only slightly. “Listen,” he starts, voice so low you could mistake it for silence. “About us...I want you to know I still—”

You raise your hand, cutting him off. With your eyes squeezed shut, you take slow breaths and hope that the tears would go away if you didn’t look at him anymore. “Don’t worry, Raf,” you say softly, defeat resound in your voice. “You don’t owe me an explanation. I get it. She’s your childhood sweetheart.”

Just as you turn away from him to go into the hospital, you hear him say, tone just above a whisper, “...Okay.”

The defeat in his voice sounds exactly as it did in yours.

“Are you okay?”

You’ve never heard Esme sound so panicked. As you snap out of your daze, you find that you’ve been standing next to a patient, hands shaking as you hold a needle next to a protruding vein. Thankfully, the patient’s eyes are squeezed shut, looking away in hopes that you would insert their IV quickly.

You insert it in one fluid movement, leaving the plastic tube in and pulling the needle out. Once you let the nurses take over, you grab your clipboard and walk out of the room with Esme trailing close behind you.

“How long was I just standing there?” you finally say once you both enter the elevator and you press the button for the ICU. The silence is palpable, as it usually is with Esme, but her eyes betray a sense of concern.

“Too long,” she answers. “Look, really, are you okay? You’ve been out of it all day.”

“I’m fine,” you say, although visibly the opposite. Esme, being Esme, doesn’t push further.

Silent devastation.

Nothing comes close to accurately describing how you feel about this Rafael situation, but that’s what you settle on. There are no painkillers strong enough to dull the ache in your heart, no way of relieving you from the reality that Rafael isn’t yours anymore. But you live with it, day by day, and it’s apparently starting to show.

After shift change, Bryce bumps into you in the atrium and announces that it’s a Donahue’s night. “My treat,” he tells you, smiling wide as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “You need it. And you can’t say no because it’s doctor’s orders.”

That elicits a small chuckle from you. “And if I do end up saying no?”

“Then you’ll have to sign an AMA form. But, as you know, it’s not recommended to go against medical advice.”

“Well, I guess I have no choice,” you tell him, grinning softly. “To Donahue’s it is.”

He flashes you that thousand kilowatt smile again and steers you out of Edenbrook and into Donahue’s.

On Fridays, Reggie always makes sure to decorate Donahue’s in a specific theme. Tonight is Samba Night, according to the flyer by the door. Mainly Edenbrook employees crowd Donahue’s, but the vibe is jovial as always, with more five dollar margaritas scattered around the place than usual. You spot your friends in their usual booth, joined by a few of the interns, and they wave you over excitedly.

“Over here!” Sienna calls out as she spots you and Bryce at the entrance. She’s sidled up next to Danny but makes space for you to sit next to her.

As you settle into your seat, all your friends suddenly blast you with questions about your day. How was your shift? Did you have any codes? Did you hear about the rapid response in ICU? Did you hear about the code grey in ED? It’s a dizzying array of questions, and something feels off about it, as if they’re saying so many things at once to startle you. You don’t realize what it is they’re doing until you follow Sienna’s line of sight.

When Rafael walks in with his arm around Sora’s waist, you fall incredibly still. Beside you, Jackie scoffs.

“What is he thinking bringing her here? God, I’m gonna need another shot.”

“I’m right there with you,” you say, suddenly feeling a heaviness in your chest. You turn sharply towards Bryce. “Bryce? Your treat, right?”

Bryce looks at you worriedly but stands right away. “On it,” he says and heads towards the bar.

God. God. It was a bad idea going here. You want nothing more than to head to the bathroom and crawl out the window and just fucking run wherever the hell your legs take you. You want to run until the ache in your legs makes you forget all of your memories tainted with Rafael, until your lungs constrict to the point that you forget what it felt like to have Rafael’s lips on yours.

Either way, you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. Rafael made his choice, and it wasn't you. Fucking deal with it. Huffing, you grab Elijah’s margarita (much to his dismay) and down it all in a few sips. You needed all the alcohol you can get in your system in order to survive the inevitable interaction between you and Sora and Rafael. Dr. Yoeun, Elijah’s intern, watches with wide eyes as you slam the completely empty glass on the table.

It’s Sora who spots you first. Eyes bright and lips pulled into a smile, she basically drags Rafael to your table in order to greet you. You feel yourself tense up as the both of them get to your table, but you feel a hand slip into yours and squeeze. It’s a presence that feels reassuring and familiar. As you look down and realize it’s Sienna’s hand, you can’t help but smile at the interaction and squeeze her hand back.

“Hey! Long time no see!” Sora says, diving into your arms and wrapping you in a tight hug. With your free hand, you give her a soft pat on the back, and she pulls away, grinning. “This is such a nice bar! I’ve never been here before.”

Rafael pipes up from next to her, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “I just got off a shift and wanted to show her Donahue’s. Hope that’s okay.”

“Come on, Raf, you know we don’t own Donahue’s!” Elijah jokes. His tone offsets the tension at the table, which helps Rafael ease up a bit. “You’re welcome here anytime. You don’t need our permission.”

Rafael nods, looking away from the table. “Well,” he finally says, exhaling a bated breath, “I hope you guys have a good one.” Sora quickly waves goodbye, and the two head off to another part of the bar, most likely in an effort to avoid you.

When Bryce returns to the table with the drinks, you immediately down your whole shot. And another. Then another. It’s probably a good thing that you’re off tomorrow because tonight you’re just going to drink to your heart’s content and cease to think.

The thing is, you can’t bring yourself to hate Sora. She always leaves nice comments on your Instagram posts, and she always makes it a point to greet you whenever you run into each other at Donahue’s. There isn’t anything to hate besides the fact that she’s your ex’s new girlfriend. (Or is it old girlfriend? New-old girlfriend? Rekindled flame?)

Well, whatever she is to Rafael, she’s nice to you. And she’s wonderful to him, which is all you can ask for, really. No matter how desperately you want to hate her, you can’t. She’s given you no reason to.

There you go again. Feeling and caring and loving too much. It really will be the death of you.

You don’t see Rafael for a few months after that. At this point, it isn’t him avoiding you; it’s just that your jobs don’t make you cross paths, as is expected. Whatever Rafael-sized ache you had in your heart is gone. It’s just the thought of what could have been that bothers you occasionally.

And you do think of him, occasionally. It’s hard not to. You’re always wondering how he’s doing—if he’s eating enough, if he’s sleeping well, if he’s staying safe. Rafael’s always been such a selfless person, someone who lives by the philosophy that tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. That worries you. For someone who is always taking care of other people, he doesn’t take quite good care of himself, and one day that’s going to bite him in the ass.

Well, in any case, it’s out of your hands now. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. You have your own patients to deal with and a grizzled senior resident to report to.

A low, menacing voice snaps you out of your thoughts. “You.”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. When you turn around, you see Zaid beckoning you towards him. “Emergency Department. Now.”

As you fall into step with Zaid, rushing towards the Emergency Department, you ask, “What’s the situation down there? Do we have to run triage?”

“Not necessarily,” he answers. “It’s just high census there right now. Lots of virus scares, among other things. The ED physicians are getting overwhelmed so they enlisted our help.”

You nod silently. You were never too fond of the Emergency Department as an intern. Too much panic and frenzy down there with not enough space to think. You worked better on floors like the ICU or Medical Surgical, where you can take time to actually speak to the patients and work on a diagnosis. At the very least, the ED presented a challenge to you that could potentially be useful in building your diagnostician skills.

When you step through the doors of the ED, you see what Zaid means about high census. All the rooms, including the overflow beds, are filled with people, and every room presents a different case. While you definitely wanted to start in the rooms whose patients likely had an infectious disease, your eyes are drawn to an overflow patient who is wearing a very familiar paramedic uniform. As you draw closer to the patient, your walk quickly turns into a sprint when your suspicions about who it is are confirmed.

“Rafael, what happened?” you ask him, panicked. He’s clutching his side, face grimacing in pain. When you inspect him closer, you see that blood has seeped into his blue uniform.

A nurse approaches the two of you with the suture cart and stops right beside you. “The patient got stabbed during a call, but it’s only a surface wound. No pulmonary or great vessel trauma. A suture is needed though.”

The second she finishes, a call light goes off in ED Room 1, and you notice that she eyes it with a sigh. “ED Room 1 is your patient?” you ask her.

“Yes,” she answers. “Sweet old lady. She’s needed water for the past five minutes, but I haven’t been able to get her because of the craziness going on.”

“Go,” you tell her, waving her off. “I’ll take care of this suture for you.”

The nurse thanks you and walks off, leaving you and Rafael alone. After gathering your supplies for the suture, you sit next to him, aseptically clean the area, and get to work. Neither of you say anything until you rub numbing cream around the stab wound. It’s then that he lets out a hiss.

“You need to stop getting yourself into these situations, Raf,” you murmur softly as you finish the preparations for the suture. When you move to change your gloves, you hear a soft, restrained laugh coming from him.

“You, of all people, should know that I can’t do that,” he mumbles, shutting his eyes as you proceed to prepare the needle. “It’s my job to protect people—to rescue people. I’ll keep getting into these situations if it means I save someone’s life.”

“And if it costs your own?”

He answers without hesitation. “Then so be it.”

“We’re stitching in three...two...one...” You enter the needle into his skin, but he doesn’t react due to the numbing cream effectively desensitizing the area. As you stitch his wound together, you say, “Well, for now, let’s make sure you keep yourself safe, okay? You can’t exactly help people if your body is banged up like this.”

He laughs, this time a bit louder, that sound of familiarity returning to his voice. “It sounds like someone’s worried about me.”

Without missing a beat, you answer softly, “You know I am. I always am.”

It’s the first time you’re really seeing him in months, and he is beautiful. His hair has grown a little longer now, with curly brown wisps covering the nape of his neck. But besides that, he looks the exact same. When your eyes meet, it’s difficult for you to look away, but you find that it’s the same for him

“How...how have you been?” he asks you, snapping out of a daze. He gets up with significant effort but manages to sit upright to look at you properly. “It’s been a few months.”

“Yeah,” you tell him. “You know I’m always busy. No new stories to tell.”

He smiles that goddamn smile that made you fall for him all those months ago. It’s just as soft as you remember. But as you admire him, that small voice in your head just repeats over and over that he didn’t choose you, he chose Sora, and suddenly you’re the first look away.

As you put away the items you used to stitch Rafael up, your mouth seems to run faster than your brain, and you blurt out, “How’s Sora?”

Rafael looks confused. And rightfully so. You don’t even know why you asked that question when you weren’t prepared to hear the answer.

“She’s fine,” he answers, mindlessly. “At least, last time I saw her she was.”

“...last time you saw her?”

“Yeah. We’ve been broken up for a while now.”

“Broken up,” you echo. The words sound so bittersweet in your mouth. “What happened?”

He looks you straight in the eyes, thoughtfully regarding you for a second. “A certain doctor was always on my mind,” he answers nonchalantly. “And it wasn’t fair for Sora to stay in a relationship with me if I obviously liked someone else.”

Wait. “Wait. Hold on. What?” you sputter, watching him as he attempts to stand up.

“Huh, good job on these stitches,” he says, admiring your handiwork. “They’ll heal up nicely.”

“Rafael,” you say exasperatedly, but he holds his hand up to silence you.

“Considering the amount of patients you have, it might not be the best time to have this conversation,” he answers you, a mischievous grin on his face. “Let’s expand on this during dinner tonight.”

Dinner? With him? Tonight? Holy fuck, everything is moving so fast that you’re overwhelmed. Before he leaves, he pauses next to your shell shocked body and leans in, placing a soft kiss on your cheek. “It’s great to see you again.”

And he leaves. Just like that. As you watch him walk out of the Emergency Department and link up with his other paramedic buddies, you stand still in the spot he left you, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. In your periphery, Zaid’s shrill whistle alerts you to his presence, and he marches his way towards you in his usual Zaid way—overzealously angry.

“What the hell are you doing just standing there? Get that suture cart out of the way and get in ED 5!”

It isn’t until Zaid basically bulldozes you into a patient’s room that you remember you still have a job to do. As he grits his teeth at you, he grunts, “Why are you so smiley all of a sudden?”

You don’t answer, instead logging into the computer to pull up the patient’s chart. As Zaid sighs heavily and gets on with his initial assessment of the patient, you see your reflection in the screen and find that you can’t bite back your smile, no matter how hard you try.

Whenever you’re tangled in Rafael’s arms, you wrap your hand around his curls and just memorize. You memorize the way he feels so that there’s never a chance you’ll forget. The way his hair feels under your fingertips, the musky notes of his scent, the corded muscles on his back—everything, anything, you touch and feel and memorize.

After all, you lost him once, and once was enough for you to learn your lesson. Now, every time Rafael finds himself in your arms, you take in his warmth, his curls, his lips, his eyes, his touch. Clinging onto him as if he’ll go away one day, as if he’ll disappear despite his promises of forever.

Forever isn’t guaranteed. You’re a doctor. You know this. In all your years working in the hospital, from the very first time you set foot in one as a high school volunteer, you’ve seen enough death and destruction and despair to know that life is finite. But you’ll believe Rafael anyway, foolishly. A more rational person would question this way of thinking because it’s stupid, perhaps even irresponsible, for you to hold Rafael’s promises to such high standards.

But your mother once told you that if two people were meant to be, the universe will let it happen. And the universe, for all your faults and flaws, gave you a second chance with Rafael. While you’d like to believe that he is your forever, you definitely aren’t going to take your chances. For now, you memorize and memorize.

Rinse and repeat.

Since the moment you two got back together, officially, Rafael has made it a habit to bring you to the street market near his neighborhood at least once a week.

He says it’s a tradition at this point. The amount of times you beg him to bring you back to your favorite taco place, just so you can buy yourself your favorite carne asada taco as a treat, almost warrants the street market becoming a tradition for you two. Not that you’re complaining about it at all. Any excuse to get your hands on a soft, doughy flour tortilla filled to the brim with carne asada and cebolla y cilantro makes you a happy camper.

Today is no different. After rounding the market to see what each vendor has, you two decide on what to get: unsurprisingly, three carne asada tacos for you, and two chicken tamales for him. He likes the way this vendor makes their masa, and you like the way they make their salsa verde. So, not so secretly, you stash four sauce containers of it while he orders, just so you have enough to completely douse your tacos and his tamales.

“Maybe you should get a fifth cup,” Rafael says, voice oozing with faux concern. “I’m sure Delia didn’t notice you taking her entire stash of salsa verde.”

You give him a pointed look. “If Delia didn’t want me to take her entire stash, maybe she shouldn’t have made it so good? Checkmate, Aveiro.”

“Touché,” he says as you two take a seat at one of the empty tables near the tamale stand. Taking the lid off the container, you excitedly drench your tacos in salsa verde, the green sheen of it reflecting against the fluorescent lights above you. Nothing in the world is more mouthwatering than these tacos. Doesn’t matter if you see them every week. You’d eat them every day if you could, and you just know you won’t get sick of them. Rafael’s eyes crinkle as he laughs, and he coats his own food with the salsa. “God, you really love Delia’s salsa, huh?”

“More than anything,” you answer quickly. “Even you. I’m sorry, babe.”

“Guess we’ll have to ask Delia to cater our wedding, huh?”

“Oh my god, can we really?” you ask, taking a bite out of your food. “Man! Have her work with Oscar from the taco stand because these two together are just perfection. Absolute perfection. I don’t care if the people who come to our wedding hate tacos. They’re going to eat tacos. Period.”

Rafael looks at you thoughtfully, with so much affection in his eyes that you can feel butterflies in your stomach. It almost makes you stop eating. Almost. But your food tastes too good, and you’re too hungry to stop, and it doesn’t matter how he looks at you. You’re digging in.

By the time you finish with your first taco, he still hasn’t touched his food. You quirk your eyebrow and ask him, “Why are you just staring at me? Not hungry?”

“What if we got married? For real?”

He asks it so suddenly that you’re caught incredibly off guard. You make a choked sound, almost spilling the salsa verde all over your clothes.

“W...what?” you ask him, embarrassed at the way you reacted, wiping away the sliver of salsa drooling from your mouth. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to get married. In fact, you’ve thought about this very much, to the point where it was almost obsessive. It’s just that you don’t understand how you stuffing a taco in your mouth brought up a genuine conversation about marriage and what that meant for your futures.

“We’re coming up on two years now. We’ve been through a lot of things, tough things, that we’ve survived through together, and we’ve been living together for a while. Marriage is the next logical step, I think.” He licks his lips, looking down as if he’s nervous to continue. “I know how you feel about marriage—how it's an institution that perpetuates gender roles and how couples don’t need to be married to show that they’re committed to each other. But I’d like to marry you, very much. I truly do.”

“Oh, Raf,” you say, but he immediately cuts you off, sounding panicked.

“And I don’t mean to bring this all up to you so fast. My words sound so garbled because I’m so nervous. I don’t even know why. Just know that I don’t expect an answer immediately and that you don’t have to take my last name. Your last name is on the medical degree that you earned, and I don’t want you to think about changing it for me. We can even take your last name. Or hyphenate. I don’t care. As long as I can marry you and be with you for the rest of my life.”

You’re quiet for a while, taking in everything that he’s said. The man really is wordy when he’s nervous, and he looks like he’s sweating bullets. As you take his hand, you notice how clammy he is, and he looks at you expectantly.

“I can’t imagine marrying anyone but you, Rafael,” you answer, genuinely. The words sound so right coming out from your mouth, and that’s how you know it’s true. Rafael’s always been the one for you. You’ve known ever since the day you met him. Doesn’t matter the speed bumps along the way. All that matters is that you’re here now, together, finally deciding what the future holds for the two of you.

You expect him to look relieved. Instead, he looks exasperated. “God, it took you that long to say that? Can’t you feel how nervous I am?”

You grin and squeeze his hand tightly. “I can. And I’m enjoying it.”

He shakes your hand off his and finally stuffs a forkful of tamale into his mouth. “You’re a riot,” he says, low and steady, shaking his head. Although he tries not to smile, it spills out anyway.

A low hum reverberates in your throat. “A riot that you want to spend the rest of your life with.”

“If you keep that up, I’ll uninvite Delia and Oscar to the wedding.”

“Please don’t. If you do that, they might not give me the recipes for their salsa and tacos!”

“Somehow, I doubt they were going to do that anyways,” he answers, finishing the last of his tamale. “Now let’s hurry up so I can buy you the cream puffs you like.”

As you watch Rafael dig into his second tamale, you think back on the things he mentioned about your opinions on marriage. Marriage was something you didn’t believe in, partly due to your gender studies professor in undergrad and partly due to your parents’ failed marriage. People just get married too young, too fast, and divorce is an ugly, expensive thing. As much as you wanted to believe that true love exists, you couldn’t bear to relive through the hell that was your parents’ relationship, which is why you’ve always abstained from the thought of contractually binding yourself to another person. Images of your parents fighting—the passive aggressiveness, the bad mouthing of the other in hopes that you’d take their side—flit in your mind, a constant reminder that keeps you away from readily admitting that marriage was for you. But you are not your parents. And you will not make the same mistakes they did.

You’re glad your parents got divorced. Separately, they’re wonderful people, but they just didn’t fit. And maybe that’s the key to it all. People are like puzzles: their nooks and crannies have to fit just right in order for you to see the whole picture. So maybe that’s why your parents never worked out. Instead of falling in love with the whole person, they fell in love with fragments, only loving the parts they chose to see. To love a person, you must love them whole. And that’s what’s so different about your relationship with Rafael.

As someone who keeps herself guarded due to the trauma of parental divorce, the idea of soulmates didn’t particularly strike you as reality, but perhaps you’re beginning to think that they are real. Because as you sit here across from Rafael, you finally feel as if you’ve found yours.

The birds are chirping today.

It’s pleasant. Especially since you don’t have an alarm blaring into your left ear every thirty minutes. As you roll over, you sling your arm over a sleeping figure, who snuggles closer to you at the first sense of your touch.

“Mmm...five more minutes...” Rafael’s voice is low and scratchy in the morning. It reminds you of how sandpaper feels. You fling your leg over him, and now your whole body is cuddling him. Kind of like a sloth.

“No one’s asking you to get out of bed, silly,” you murmur, giving him a soft kiss at the top of his head.

“Good,” he says, craning his neck upwards to return a kiss to your lips. “Don’t wanna get up. This weighted blanket you bought was a good investment.”

“If it keeps you in bed with me, then I’d say it’s a pretty good investment too.”

He chuckles at that, opening his eyes a peek. His eyes are just so brown that it makes your heart ache. They’re so beautiful, especially in the sunlight, and it’s so surprising that he doesn’t think they’re anything special. As you push the bits of his bangs covering his eyes, you two stare at each other for a moment and share a knowing smile.

You think it’s fair to say that you’ve never truly known love until now.

“You gotta stop buying things that’ll keep me in bed, babe,” he grumbles, closing his eyes for a moment. “I won’t be able to get up for work.”

“Here’s an idea, then,” you begin, closing your eyes too. You listen to his breathing, so soft to the point of silence, and wrap your arms around him more tightly than before. “You and I both call in sick today. We stay in bed. Maybe even kiss a little.”

“Tempting,” he says, a smile dancing on his lips. “But as much as I’d like to kiss you all day, I gotta pay for my half of rent.”

“Alright, alright.” You throw the weighted blanket off you but leave his side intact. “You stay in bed for now, and because I love you so much, I’m going to cook you breakfast.”

Once you slide off the bed and put on your fuzzy slippers, you trudge towards the kitchen in a sleep-deprived haze. But before you can reach the door, you hear Rafael say, “Wait.”

You turn around to find him sitting up on the bed, body leaning languidly as he eyes you. “You know that I love you, right? And that I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve someone like you?”

Bemused, you lean against the doorway with a smirk on your face. “And this is suddenly coming up because?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. I know that I tell you I love you every day, but today feels different. Might be a special day for us.”

“You sound like my Co-Star app,” you tell him. He laughs at that and waves you off, pulling your weighted blanket over his head. As you make your way into the kitchen, you look at your phone.

5:49 am.

Today will be a special day. You just know it.

“What’s going on?” Sienna asks, frantic.

As Zaid and Ines lead a group towards the Emergency Department, you feel a chill going through your spine. There’s no reason to have this many residents working in the ED, unless—

“We’re running triage,” Zaid says, more solemnly than you’ve ever heard him in your life. “Huge fire downtown. It’s chaos in the ED, and we need all hands on deck.”

“Why are they coming here?” asks Jackie. “Mass Kenmore is a Level I Trauma Center. Are there really that many patients that they had to bring some to Edenbrook?”

“I’m afraid so,” Ines answers her, voice trembling a bit too much for comfort. “According to reports, the fire spread so quickly that it was almost impossible to get people out.”

That does not sound good. At all. As Zaid and Ines rattle on about the specifics of the situation, you can’t help but worry about Rafael. Your mind always wanders to him, instinctively. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s on scene, helping as many people as he can, because he’s always been one to go above and beyond for people in situations like these, even if that meant endangering himself. Rafael won’t let you change that, won’t let you stop him from doing his job, and so you don’t. All you can do right now is hope that he’s safe wherever the hell he is.

The second you fly through the doors of the Emergency Department, a breath gets caught in your throat. Zaid wasn’t kidding when he was saying ED was in a state of chaos. You’ve never seen so many burn patients in your life. As you start giving out tags, you worry that the endless flurry of patients will never end but worry more that the flurry will end with people you know.

Walking into ED 13, you find that your patient is conscious but barely. His oxygen saturation is dangerously low, and the nurses have already put him on oxygen to stabilize his vitals. You take note of his wheezing and the red tinge on his skin. Must have been a terrible, terrible fire for all of this to happen to so many people. You can’t count how many patients you’ve seen today that look like the one right in front of you.

To your relief, he starts perking up the second he sees you. As you approach him, you see a few second-degree burns you didn’t notice before and make a mental note to chart that the second you get a chance to. “Mr. Huston, I’m your doctor for this afternoon. How are you feeling right now?”

“Honestly, I’ve been better.” The man can still joke, but a violent wave of coughs soon takes over him. “Have...have you seen my wife? I been...askin’ around, but...none of the nurses...”

“Take it easy, Jamal,” you caution him. “Breathe in and out of that mask for me, will you?”

He listens. Now, with more oxygen in his system, he takes the mask off and continues. “My wife was in the building when the fire started. Went there to visit her...then one thing led to another...and...”

“Fire broke out?”

Mr. Huston wheezes as he nods.

“Did you breathe in a ton of smoke while you were in the building?”

“Not as much as other people thanks to this nice young paramedic that pulled me out.”

You try to bite back a smile as Mr. Huston tells the story of the nice young paramedic’s heroics. Of course, Rafael’s out there doing his thing, rescuing people from burning buildings, performing CPR on victims without pulses, and being an all-around good fucking human being. From what Mr. Huston tells you, Rafael is doing things that are way above his pay grade, but you didn’t expect any less. He’s always been so selfless.

“Mr. Huston, where did this paramedic go after he pulled you out from the building?”

“I thought he came with me...did he not?”

Huh. You swore you haven’t seen Rafael around. As giant as Edenbrook’s Emergency Department was, you would have seen him at least once, considering that you’ve been rounding the entire unit like crazy. He must have been in and out of the ED to go back to the building site, or he was in the bathroom taking a break.

Either way, you don’t think anything of it. If anything, Mr. Huston’s story is a confirmation that Rafael is safe and alive, and in a day as crazy as today, that’s all you need. As you finish your assessment of Mr. Huston, you move over to the nurse’s station, logging into a computer to chart Mr. Huston’s signs and symptoms.

A bell chimes to notify all ED staff that the next wave of ambulances are arriving in T minus one minute. The paramedics arrive earlier than that, quickly surging through the ambulance bay doors, transporting patients to the very little overflow beds the ED has. One of the paramedics in particular catches your eye, and a look of recognition flashes over his face. It then quickly turns into a look of sympathy.

When you look closer, you realize that it’s Rafael’s partner, Max. He’s got several second-degree burns all over his arms, and his typically freshly-pressed uniform looks disheveled and charred.

That chills that runs down your spine? It returns. Stronger, this time. But you don’t understand why.

It isn’t until you look down onto the gurney he’s pushing that you realize what it is he’s so sympathetic about.

“Raf?”

You hear yourself scream but don’t remember commanding your body to do so. Somehow, your body drags itself from your spot at the nurse’s station, and you try to get to him before several nurses stop you. “Doctor, doctor,” one of the nurses says, eyes flashing in panic, “you need to calm down. We can’t help him if you can’t calm down.”

Despite her pleas, you rip past everyone trying to hold you back, lashing out at them to stay away.

You rush towards him, fat tears beginning to roll down your cheeks in waves. “Raf? Raf, can you hear me?” As you get to his side, you immediately begin to assess, your heart beating so heavily that you feel as if it’s going to explode.

You listen to his breathing, and it’s labored, as if he’s struggling to fill his lungs. His eyes, the very same ones you were just admiring this morning, are dull and lifeless. His skin is crackled, like a burning log, dark flakes peeling off with the slightest puff of air.

All you can do is freeze.

Time slows down when the world feels like it’s ending. This you know because right here, right now, as you stand beside the unconscious body of the love of your life, the world truly seems like it’s about to end.

You can’t even touch his fucking face. You can’t touch his hands, his arms, or even his waist because everything seems so fragile. His mouth is agape, and in it, you can see how dry his tongue is and how soot from the fire has dried on his lips. You can’t bear to look at him, not like this, in this condition. So, as you grip the railing of the gurney, your knuckles paling at the sheer force of it, your eyes flash towards his partner.

You can’t even see Max clearly because your tears blind your sight. This is just so pathetic.

“What happened?” you ask quietly. When he doesn’t answer, you ask louder. “What happened?”

“He...he went inside the building,” Max says, on the verge of tears. “After he pulled out the man in ED 13, we heard a woman yelling for help deep inside. She barely got out before the ceiling collapsed on him.” A beat passes before the tears start flowing down his cheeks, and his voice starts to crack. “I...I promise, I told him not to go, I told him—”

“Doesn’t matter what you told him, he was never going to listen,” you cut him off, bitterly wallowing in the fact that Rafael was too selfless for his own good.

Your own tears have streaked your face a dozen times over, and you can taste nothing but salt. It’s difficult to look down at the body lying on the gurney in front of you. All the parts of Rafael that made him Rafael were dimmed, if not gone completely. There were no more silly grins that you always saw even when you weren’t doing anything inherently funny, no more warm, strong arms to fall into when you found yourself crying over the littlest things, and no more big brown eyes to admire in the morning. As you look down at those brown eyes, hoping to see them once more, you find that, rather than seeing them glazed over, they’re transfixed directly on you.

“Raf, oh my god,” you wail, getting as close to him as you possibly can. His mouth, as dry as it is, twitches into a smile, and he reaches out to cup your chin in his palm.

“My love,” he answers, voice so weak that you can mistake it for silence.

“Raf, what did you do?” you sob.

“What I had to do,” is all he rasps out.

“You’re hurt,” you say, voice quivering. “You’re hurt, and you have so many burns...we...we need to order skin grafts...your lungs are damaged due to smoke inhalation...I just...I can’t do this, Raf, I can’t do this without you.”

More tears stream down your face, all the way to his hands. Although you want to believe otherwise, the damage to his body is severe, and you know he’s not going to make it. Somewhere in his eyes, you can sense that he knows too.

“Let me hold your hand,” he says, after a moment of silence between you both. He grasps your hand tightly, as tightly as he can, and shuts his eyes. Between labored breaths, he manages to say, “You are my forever.”

This is his goodbye. There are no grand exits for Rafael Aveiro. Just simple ones. And of all the things he could have said, he chose to remind you that he will be with you for as long as you live.

At the end of the day, that was the best thing about Raf. He died as he lived—feeling and caring and loving too much. And you’ll take that with you, into forever.

“You’re mine too, Raf,” you answer back, bringing his hand to your cheek.

He smiles one last time. As minutes pass, his grip lessens and his chest stops rising. When a nurse silently walks up next to you, you continue to hold his hand tightly, silent tears rolling down your face.

In all your years working in the hospital, you’ve seen enough death and destruction and despair to know that life is finite, but the finality of life has never felt so painful as it does right now. As you exhale a shaky breath, you open your eyes and say the words you wish you never had to say about someone you loved so much.

“Time of death: 2:34 pm.”

Rafael’s grandmother asked you to speak at the funeral. It was a difficult speech to prepare, considering the circumstances. While you wish nothing more than to send Rafael a proper goodbye, you were in no state to prepare any arrangements of any kind. Just typing “good afternoon” on the Word document brought you to tears.

But you did it anyways. If not for Rafael’s grandmother, for Rafael himself. He, of all people, deserved it.

When you stand up on the podium, you scan the crowd to see familiar faces. Everyone you know is there, including Chief Banerji and Dr. Ramsey. You’re even surprised to see that Sora is in attendance, sitting all the way in the back row with misty eyes and a sympathetic smile on her face.

Clearing your throat, you start to speak. “Good afternoon, family and friends. I want to start off this speech by saying Rafael would not have wanted us to mourn him. That is why I wrote this speech as a celebration of life because we should celebrate the life of someone as beautiful as Rafael Aveiro.

“The first time I met Raf was when we were both on call. He had just saved someone, which is always the way we met up during the first year of our relationship. When I asked him if he really went into a burning inferno to save someone, he answered, matter-of-factly: ‘Well yeah...wouldn’t you?’ And that interaction tells you everything you really need to know about Raf. He cared so much about others, even if it put him in danger. He loved his job, he loved his patients, and he loved pushing himself beyond the boundaries of his job description.

“I think that’s what drew us so closely together, what bound us together for life. Healthcare is a field where you’re fully devoted to strangers, where you’re constantly pushing yourself to be better so you can treat your patients to the best of your ability. And Rafael was so damn good at it, so damn good at his job. He loved people. He loved others. At the expense of himself. But I’ll never fault him for that. Raf’s sacrifice meant that someone else’s family member got to live, and at the end of the day, that’s what he lived for.

“The woman he saved that day was the wife of one of my patients. The two got separated in the fire, and Raf made sure that she would be able to get out and see to live another day. He was so selfless, so worthy of a long, fulfilling life. And while it’ll never get easier to refer to him as the past, I hope he knows that he will always be a big part of my future, wherever it’ll take me. Take care, Rafael, and may you rest in peace.”

As you finish your speech with a shaky breath, an applause erupts from the audience. Rafael’s grandmother is the most visibly shaken by your speech, and when you take your seat, she grabs your hand and squeezes it tightly, not letting go until the end of the service.

The service itself was a long and arduous process. You looked away at certain parts, hoping that Rafael’s grandmother didn’t see just how much you were sobbing. After all, it’s never easy to see the cremated remains of the love of your life. Looking away doesn’t make you forget that he’s gone, but it saved you from seeing another reminder of your reality.

Afterwards, once everyone gives their condolences, his grandmother comes up to you again. She looks at you, sad and mournful, and that’s all it takes for you to burst into tears. Bringing her hand up to wipe your tears away, she hushes you gently and takes you into her arms.

“You know he loved you, right?” she asks you, softly. All you do is nod because you can’t seem to croak any words out. “He loved you so much. I’ve never seen that boy so head over heels for a girl. Even asked me for our family ring so he can ask you to marry him.”

You pull back, surprised. “He did?”

“He did,” grandmother says, nodding to confirm. “He even went to the jeweler to resize it for you, just so it’ll fit on your finger when he proposed.” She steps back to appraise you with a sorrowful smile on her lips. “I wouldn’t have given it to him just for any girl, you know. The universe wanted you two together. I just knew.”

You nod, smiling through the tears. You know it did. Just not in this timeline.

Sure enough, when you finally have the strength to look through his drawers, you find that there’s an engagement ring nestled inside a small box deep within his underwear drawer. It’s beautiful—all jade-colored with gold details. And just as his grandmother said to you, it was a perfect fit.

More often than not, you think back on that day. You think of things you could have done better. Maybe if you got him on fluids, maybe if you ordered a skin graft as soon as you saw him, maybe if you just convinced him to stay home that day, he would still be alive.

But some things are just out of your control. Even if you got him to stay home, he would have hopped in the car the second he heard about the emergency. Even if you ordered a skin graft on time, there was too much surface area on his body to cover. Even if you had gotten him on fluids, he was already at the point of no return by the time you got to his body.

Too many things going wrong, too little time.

Medicine is all quantifiable data and qualitative research. As powerful as that is, it couldn’t go against death, and it couldn’t go against fate. There is nothing that is humanly designed that can go against the universe.

While that may seem terrible, it is what it is. Life is cruel. It is selfish and impatient. It takes as it gives, and it is unremorseful.

But life is also beautiful. It still gave you Rafael. It gave you his warmth in the morning and in the night, his soft kisses, and his comforting hugs. It gave you his empathy for others, his love for Caribbean food, and his dedication to his patients. It gave you a chance at knowing what true love feels like, despite believing your entire life that you’ll never find it.

Life may be fleeting, but that’s why you’ll decide to live it day by day. Because that's what Rafael would have wanted.

And you wouldn’t want to live life any other way.

#rafael aveiro #rafael aveiro x mc #rafael aveiro x reader #open heart #playchoices #choices #my writing #fic: take care

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bxcketbarnes · 5 years ago

Text

The Innocent Girl // Part Thirty-Two: The Wrath of Alie // Bellamy Blake

gif is not mine

Words: 4800+ (im so sorry)

Warnings: fluff for sure. some angst as well.

Author’s Note: This is probably one of the quickest I’ve updated in a long while. I’ll probably be called selfish or something, but a certain lot of you that enjoy this, including myself, is the only reason I’m continuing this. I adore this story. I do. I’ve just been having a lot of negative thoughts about this series and comparing it to other’s I’ve read. I’m sorry I made it an OC. I see other writer’s use OC’s and get tons of notes and shit, but this? Nah. Or it sucks, but I’m super thankful to those who like, reblog, and comment that they want more. You’re the ones that really matter to me and keep me going. So thank you. Also, I’m sorry about the length. I didn’t intend for it to be so long, lol. Please enjoy xox AGAIN I’M SORRY IF I SOUND SELFISH I DON’T MEAN TO PLS DON’T HATE ME

I sit by the fire in the cave we’ve been hiding out in, tapping my foot against the ground repeatedly. Arkadia isn’t safe. What the hell happened? Did grounders get to them? I heard shuffling beside me as Octavia stands up, heading towards her things as she begins to pack them away.

“Octavia-”

“O, wait. You can’t just leave,” Bellamy calls out as he walks up to her.

“Watch me,” she states bluntly.

I stand up, making my way towards her as well. “Jasper said that Arkadia’s not safe,” I tell her and her head snaps towards me.

“What Jasper said sounds insane,” O mentions as her eyes move from me to her brother. Her gaze moves back towards her stuff. “Pike’s gone. I can handle myself,” there was a small pause before she speaks up once more, “grounders burn their dead.”

“I know that. Then what? Where are you gonna go?” Bellamy asks, his honey brown eyes trained on his sister.

“You don’t get to ask me that,” Octavia growls, glaring at her brother.

I press my lips together, watching the interaction as I feel my heart break for Bellamy. “What more do I have to do to prove that I’m on your side?” He pleads.

“Bring Lincoln back,” she mutters and begins to walk past him. “Turning Pike in does not make you one of the good guys, Bellamy. You did that to save me, save her. Not because what you thought Pike was doing to the grounders was wrong.”

“The grounders were starving us out,” Bell states while turning to face her. I glance towards the rest of the group, seeing the uncomfortable looks on their faces.

“Because you massacred an army that was sent to protect us,” O spits out.

“That army could have attacked us at any time and you know it.”

“But they didn’t attack. You did that,” the younger Blake mutters and continues, “you were hurting and you lashed out because that’s what you do. There are consequences, Bell. People get hurt. People die. Your people. Monroe’s dead. Lincoln is dead.”

Octavia lets out heavy breaths as I watch her take a quick glance at me before making her way out of the cave. I swallow the lump in my throat, knowing that she has a point about everything she just said.

Bellamy follows her and I let out a sigh, quickly following as well. “Bellamy wait,” I call out but he didn’t stop, his footsteps continuing at a quick pace. I stop by Harper and Bryan, watching with a heavy heart as Bellamy follows his sister, feeling the need for her to stay with them so he knows she’s safe.

“They’re here,” Bryan pipes up as the Rover stops a couple of feet in front of us.

My eyes widen as Clarke appears out of the darkness, her eyes looking to each of us before Jasper yells at us. “I need your help. We need to get her inside before she wakes up.” He carries Raven in his arms as a gasp leaves my lips, running towards him to help.

“Were you followed?” Bellamy asks as Jasper pants, stuttering an I don’t know. “Get her here,” he mumbles and Jasper gives the unconscious girl to Bellamy and the two begin to head into the cave.

“Get to the ridge. Radio if you spot anyone following,” Miller orders his boyfriends who just nods his head, “Harper will stay here on watch.” The two boys run deeper into the woods as I make my way into the cave, following Clarke as the blonde looks back towards Octavia who stands still, a look of contemplation on her face.

“Octavia, come on. We need you,” she calls out as we continue into the cave. “Clear some space.”

Sinclair and Monty clear out a space for her and Bellamy set her down carefully as Sinclair asks what the hell happened to her.

“I told you on the radio, Raven is not Raven anymore. None of them are,” Jasper tells us and I raise my eyebrows. Them? Audrey… “Jaha’s been chipping everyone.”

“Jasper’s right. I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” Clarke confirms.

Jasper takes a step forward, narrowing his eyes at her. “I don’t need your help, alright?” He practically demands and I take a step towards him, laying a hand on his shoulder. He swipes it off immediately, glaring at me before walking a couple of feet away from me as my chest clenches in pain.

A hand finds a way to my lower back and I look towards my right to see Monty beside me, giving me a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing you did. He’s just… broken,” he whispers and I nod my head. Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt, still.

“Just take it easy and explain,” Bellamy mutters to Jasper as he nods his head.

“Jaha is using the chips to control everyone. You swallow it and it changes you. You forget who you are, and then you see this thing, Alie. Only she’s not really there. She made Raven slit her own wrists. She was trying to get her out of her head,” Jasper explains as he begins to get a little choked up. “I was trying to help her, but-”

“Okay, so let’s help her now,” Sinclair tells him while taking a step towards him. “Did she tell you how?”

“She was working on building something. She needed one of our old wristbands, but Jaha destroyed them all,” Jasper informs us.

Clarke picks her head up. “Wait a second,” she pauses, grabbing something from her coat before taking out a small chip of sorts. “Does it look like this?”

“Not exactly,” Jasper answers and I glance towards Raven to see her eyes wide open, staring at the thing in Clarke’s hand. Bellamy takes a step towards us as Raven lets out a grunt, getting up from the ground.

Jasper moves in her way when she punches him, making her way towards the opening of the cave. “Don’t let her get away!” Clarke yells as we all run after her.

“Hey. I can’t see anything,” Raven yells as Miller, Clarke, and Bellamy grab a hold of the mechanic while she struggles and screams for them to stop. “Let me go!”

“If Raven finds out where we are, so will Alie,” Jasper tells us and Octavia runs up to the girl and sticks the needle into her neck, knocking her ass out. “Reaper stick. Last dose.”

“We have to go,” Clarke suddenly speaks up and Octavia and I glance over at her.

I furrow my eyebrows together. “Where are we gonna go?”

“Why? Alie doesn’t know where we are,” Bellamy states.

“Because I know where we can get a wristband,” the blonde figures out and my eyes widen, suddenly with the plan of leaving.

We drive towards what looks to be a trading post and a woman walks out of the building before pulling out a machete. “I’ll go talk to her,” Clarke mumbles.

“I’ll go with you,” Bellamy pipes up and I frown slightly, watching as Octavia opens the back door, her and Bellamy hopping out of the Rover. I look towards Raven as she was lying on the floor of the Rover, still unconscious as I begin to chew my nails.

This is not the best for my heart or my sudden anxiety. I glance back out towards the windshield of the vehicle, seeing Bellamy and Clarke walking towards the woman. Everyone begins to pile out of the vehicle, Sinclair grabbing Raven as I stay put.

“Hurry, she’s waking up! We need to get her inside,” Sinclair yells towards the two.

I jump slightly when I hear Bellamy yelling, looking back out the window to see him pointing his rifle at the girl, telling her to move. She reluctantly moves out of the way as everyone began to pile inside. I slowly move out of the truck, making my way towards the building as I can hear Raven grunting and screaming from all the way out here.

“Where the hell am I? Let me go!” Raven begins screaming and I quickly run towards the back of the building, seeing everyone having trouble holding her down as I press my hands down on her shins. Raven continues to struggle and ends up punching Jasper in the face, again, while Sinclair and Octavia tie down her limbs to the bed.

We manage to tie her down as she continues to yell and we pile out of the room. Clarke goes to talk to a girl she calls Nylah as Bellamy makes his way back towards me.

“You okay?” He asks and I shake my head slightly. I can feel my hands shaking as Raven’s cries are still constant. “Hey, we’ll figure this out.”

Bellamy takes my hands in his and I nod my head, taking deep breaths while he brings me into a hug. Nylah brings out the wristband that we use to wear, giving it to the blonde.

“You guys can work in here,” she mumbles and points towards the room she just came from. Monty, Clarke, Sinclair begin to make their way into the room when I pull away.

“You should go with them. Be one of the good guys,” I whisper to him while looking up at his face. He gives me a small smile, kissing my forehead before following after the three of them.

I move to sit down by the fire, next to Octavia. “Hey,” I mumble quietly, kind of afraid to look at her as I feel her eyes on me. “I, uhm, I know it’s a difficult time for you right now-”

“Please do not tell me you’re about to stand up for Bellamy?” She asks me, anger in her voice.

I glance up at her, her eyes glaring into mine as I shake my head. “No, actually I wasn’t. I get why you’re mad at him. If I was in your position, I’d be furious too. I should be furious in my own shoes, but… I-”

“You love him,” Octavia finishes and I press my lips together while nodding my head. “It’s okay, you know? To love him. I can tell you’ve been a bit touchy towards me because of the situation. I don’t hate you.”

A sigh of relief leaves my lips, glad to hear. “Honestly, you have no idea how much better that makes me feel,” I chuckle, “and just so you know. I was gonna say that I know you’re going through a lot, but know that you can always come to me, okay?”

She nods her head, giving me a soft smile and gives me a quick hug before getting up from the floor, heading into the room that the others were in.

“Guys!” Jasper yells and I pick my head up, quickly getting off the floor as everyone including myself run into the room, seeing the mechanic pulling at the rope with her teeth.

“She’s re-opened her wounds,” Clarke states as I grip one of her arms. “We need bandages.”

“I got her,” Bellamy mutters and stands on the opposite side of me.

“No, take her wrist,” the blonde orders him and he complies, his eyes meeting mine. “Raven, stop fighting us!”

She begins to clean her wound as Raven growls at us, Jasper beginning to talk to Alie. “Alie. Alie,” he tries while looking at the mechanic. “Alie! Look at me. I know you can hear this. Why are you doing this to her? Let her go.”

“I’ll let her go,” Raven speaks, her voice distinctively different as my eyes widen, “when you give me what I want.” Her head snaps towards the blonde. “The technology that Clarke carries, it belongs to me.”

“No way,” Clarke utters and Raven begins to growl again.

“Clarke, just give it to her. Clarke!” Jasper tries to reason with the blonde.

“If you let Raven die. You’ll never get it,” Clarke mentions and Raven’s struggles die down. “Untie her wrists. Hold her steady.”

I untie the rope wrapped around Raven’s wrist as Jasper takes a hold of her legs. Clarke relocates her shoulder. “She’s never gonna stop hurting herself,” Bellamy tells the blonde and I look towards Clarke to see her staring down at Raven. “Someone has to stay with her.”

“I’ll be on first watch,” Clarke mutters, looking to the rest of us. “We’ll take turns.”

“You don’t give the orders, Clarke,” Jasper snaps, his eyes glossed over with tears as he breaths erratically.

“Guess he doesn’t forgive you for murdering his girlfriend,” Raven calmly states.

I swallow thickly, looking towards Jasper. “Jasper, take a break,” Bellamy tells the teen and he nods his head, leaving the room. I tuck a strand of loose hair behind my ear as Bell and I leave the room as well, leaving Clarke alone with Raven.

“Is this really a good idea?” I ask the curly-haired man as we left the room. He lets out a sigh, shuffling his hair around and shrugs his shoulders.

“I’ve got no idea, but it’s all we’ve got right now.”

Jasper sits at a table, fiddling with the restraint on his wrist. I keep my distance as Bellamy walks up to the table. “You’re okay with her coming back after all this time?” Jas sighs, looking towards the room before his eyes meet Bellamy’s. “Taking over?”

“She’s trying to save Raven,” he tells him.

The buzzcut teen nods his head, continuing to fiddle with his wrist. “Guess she thinks Raven’s worth saving. Lucky for her.”

I watch as Bellamy presses his lips together, leaning against the wooden surface. “Just get yourself together, Jasper. You can’t let your anger get in the way of what we have to do.”

“When you get angry, people die. Just ask that girl over there,” Jasper whispers to Bellamy before he gets up from the table, heading towards the door.

I sigh a bit as Bell glances over his shoulder, Nylah looking at him for a few seconds before continuing to light candles around the room. I place a comforting hand on his shoulder, muttering that I got this before following my best friend outside.

“Jasper,” I call out and the teen turns around to face me.

“What do you want?”

A scoff leaves my lips, rolling my eyes as I’m sick of this attitude he’s giving everyone.

“What do I want? I want to know why the fuck you’re upset with me!? I didn’t do anything to you, Jasper. I tried to be there for you, but you know what happened? Monty told me that it wasn’t worth trying because you’re pushing everyone away! Do you know who should be pushing people away? Me! Both you and Monty thought I was dead after what happened at the dropship and you know what Audrey told me? That both of you had accepted the fact that I was dead. Do you know how that feels? Kinda like what you’re feeling. So, drop your bullshit with me. Be mad at Clarke for all I care. There’s no reason for you to be taking your anger out on me when I’ve done jack shit,” I breathe heavily after basically screaming at the kid, tears coming to my eyes as I begin to calm down slightly.

Jasper’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he takes a step towards me. “I’m sorry, Britt. You’re right,” he mumbles quietly and brings me into a hug. “Everyone was just so tired of me that if I went to you, you’d begin to feel that way as well. I’m sorry. I truly am.”

I sniffle, wiping my eyes after I pull away from my best friend. “I get it, but you should know by now that I’m not like other people. I’m very forgiving. Hell, I’ve almost fully forgiven Bellamy for the shit he’s pulled even though he doesn’t deserve it.”

A small chuckle leaves his lips as his eyes look towards the building. “You know I never would’ve thought little miss innocent would fall for the bad boy,” he jokes and I slap his chest, a chuckle leaving my lips as well.

“Shut up. I’m not that innocent anymore,” I tell him with a smile before letting out a sigh. “I’ve missed you, you know. After all this shit is over we need to just chill.”

“I can get down with that,” he mentions and brings his hand up to my hair, ruffling it a bit.

Bellamy and Jasper sit to watch Raven as I peek through the curtain, seeing Raven’s eyes trained on the two.

“Look at your united front,” she says as the two boys look over at the brunette. “Tell me. Why does Bellamy get a pass for murdering your girlfriend? What was her name?”

“Don’t talk about Maya,” Jasper calmly states while shaking his head.

“You don’t have to listen to this,” Bellamy tells Jasper.

“Let’s protect, Jasper. Jasper’s so sensitive. Jasper’s lost someone. Everyone, cater to his feelings,” Raven taunts as I silently watch, moving my gaze between the three people. “We’ve all lost someone. You don’t see us falling apart. You don’t see us getting wasted. Being useless.”

“No, you took a pill to take your pain away,” Jasper points out as he looks over at Raven. “You gave up your memories.”

“But then, why should we expect anything more? You used to get high off people’s medicine. Being a selfish loser was your only move.”

“Stop,” Jasper whispers.

“That’s all we see when we look at you,” Raven mentions and I’m about to barge in when Clarke grabs my arm, shaking her head no. “A coward. A waste of breath. Why do you even bother living? You’re weak. Pathetic. You can’t save me. You can’t even save yourself. You couldn’t save whats-her-name.”

“You know her name!” Jasper yells, flying out of his chair.

Bellamy gets out of his chair, standing in front of the teen to stop him from going anywhere near Raven. “Jasper think. It’s not Raven talking and you’re giving her what she wants. Go,” he whispers and I see Jasper coming towards the sheets, walking through it.

“Just you and me, huh?” Raven smirks over at Bellamy as he sits back in the chair. I chew on my fingernails as I listen to the conversation, hearing her talk about the fun time they had together. The first time I really got my heart broken.

I push myself through the curtains, gaining Raven and Bellamy’s attention as she looks me up and down. “Bellamy, switch out,” I tell him and he shakes his head.

“No. I’m fine. Go,” he mentions and I let out a laugh, moving to sit beside him.

“Fine. If you’re not leaving then I’m staying.”

Raven looks over at us, the smirk back on her lips. “Oh, yay. The happy couple.” Her eyes move towards me, her head tilted to the side. “Tell me, Britt, how does it feel to be with a man who fucked almost every girl at camp?”

I let out a sarcastic laugh, leaning back in my chair as I smirk back at the girl. “Try me, bitch.”

“Oo, a challenge. I’m all for. Alright. Let’s talk about Octavia. How much longer do you think she’ll be friends with you knowing that you’re sleeping with a monster?” She asks and glances towards Bellamy.

I stay silent, already knowing that Octavia is alright with it. I can feel Bellamy’s eyes on me as I look towards him, a sad look on his features. It’s okay I mouth to him, giving him a reassuring smile.

“How about how Bellamy told me that he’s been with you only to get another notch on his belt?” She tries and I can feel my stomach drop, but I collect myself a bit. Bellamy and I have slept with each other like… six times already. That’s not true. “Oh, did I hit something?”

“Raven, that’s enough,” Bellamy tells her with a hard glare.

“No, you know what Alie,” I start, tired of her shit, “you know nothing of mine and Bellamy’s relationship. Just so you know, I know for a fact that that’s not true because we’ve slept together plenty of times.”

Bellamy rests a hand on my knee, making me look over at the curly-haired man. “Hey, stop,” he whispers and I sigh, nodding my head.

“Wow, plenty of times, huh? Man, she must be a keeper Bellamy,” Raven starts, tilting her head towards the older Blake. "But, it’s got to be hard to know that the person you're absolutely in love with hates you. You can see the hatred in her eyes when she looks at you.”

I narrow my eyes at the mechanic, wishing the lies would fucking stop. Bellamy’s not in love with me and I don’t hate him. He knows that I don’t anyway… I think.

"Shut up," Bellamy mutters while resting his elbows on his knees, not making eye contact with the mechanic.

"Am I triggering something?" Raven asks and Bellamy keeps his eyes on the wall in front of him.

"You know, it's almost the same look she gave you when you slept with me… Then afterward you tried to kiss her. Now, Bellamy," Raven drawls out and the curly-haired man takes a quick glance towards the brunette, "did you really think that'd work? That it was the best idea to do?"

Bellamy swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing his throat. Raven struggles in her restraints a bit as she mumbles to herself. Her eyes move towards me as I kept mine on her, figuring out what she’s trying to get at.

"Britt doesn't deserve you, at all. Hell, she's probably better off with Murphy than you," she tells him while lurching forward slightly. "That reminds me. You know how many times I heard Murphy say he was gonna steal your girl and show her how a man would pleasure her. Apparently, he doesn't think you're man enough for Angel."

"Raven, shut. Up." Bellamy and I growl, the mechanic knowing she's getting into his head

The brunette studies us for a moment, before moving onto a much more serious topic. “Does it bother you that you don’t get any credit for the genocide at Mount Weather?” She asks Bellamy and I look towards the guy, seeing him look at her for a second before shaking his head. “Clarke gets to be the Commander of Death, but you murdered all those people, too, and you’re just forgotten. Then again…” she trails off, leaning her head back against the bed frame. “You didn’t get any credit for the culling of the Ark, either. How many people suffocated when you threw away my radio? You know, at least Clarke was saving her own people. You were just saving your own ass. Of course, that’s nothing compared to killing your own mom.”

I watch as his eyes dart to hers, an unreadable expression on his face as my heart drops into my stomach. Bellamy lets out a deep breath through his nose, sitting back in his chair.

“You just had to take little sister to her first dance. You might as well have just shoved Aurora out of the airlock yourself.”

That’s why he wasn’t a guard anymore…

“Do you think she would be proud of you now? About the kind of leader, you’ve become? I wish you’d see the truth. I want Britt to see the truth, like the rest of us, do. But, you’re a follower. Clarke’s been back for one day and you’re already taking orders. A good, little knight by his queen’s side. Are you really even devoted to your angel here? I mean you left her in Mount Weather to die and face it… she almost did.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bellamy tells her calmly as my heart begins to pound against my ribcage.

“Well, you already thought she was dead since you avenged her right? I mean, you picked up a gun and slaughtered an army that was sent to protect us.”

“Raven, stop,” I pipe up, having heard enough of this shit.

Nylah walks into the room, shooting daggers at Bellamy as the two of us get up from our seats. “My father… you…” she growls.

“Nylah,” Bellamy whispers as the blonde continued to walk up to him.

“You killed him,” she spat and slaps him across the face.

Clarke grabs ahold of the girl, pulling her away from Bell. “Nylah. Nylah, you can’t be in here,” she tells her and begins to drag her out of the room.

“It’s too late,” Jasper starts, looking towards the mechanic, “Raven’s already seen her. Alie knows we’re here.”

Bellamy glares at the mechanic, grabbing his jacket before leaving the room. I quickly follow him, as he walks out of the building. I witness as he lets out a loud grunt, kicking over a barrel before ripping twigs off a nearby tree.

“Feel better?” Nylah asks before I get a chance to speak up, seeing her standing beside me. Bell turns around, seeing both of us standing before him as he lets out a sigh.

“All I wanted was to protect my people.”

“By destroying mine,” she states and my lips part, already shaking my head as Bellamy takes a couple of steps towards us, his eyes trained on her.

“I’m sorry.”

“People like you always are,” Nylah comments and the three of us stand in silence until the Rover approaches us. The blonde walks back into the building as I move to stand beside Bellamy, my fingers grazing against the palm of his hand.

I look up at him to see his eyes on me, unshed tears glossing over his eyes and he grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers. I squeeze his hand softly, letting him know that I’m here for him. “Follow me,” he mumbles and leads me away from everyone as Monty and Octavia head inside.

We get a few feet away from the building, standing in the dark as Bellamy stops before turning to face me. “What’s wrong?” I ask, stepping closer to him.

“I just… can’t help but think about what Raven was saying,” he tells me and I grab his other hand.

“She was just trying to-”

“Get in my head, I know,” he finishes and I press my lips together. “The stuff she was saying about you. About how it sucks feeling like the only girl I’ve ever been in love with hates me.”

My breath hitches in my throat as my body tenses up. What…? “Bell-”

“No, let me finish. Angel, it’s true. I saw the way you reacted when she said it. You don’t believe I’m in love with you, but I am. And I know you don’t hate me, but you should. I broke your heart by sleeping with Raven, I made you stay at Mount Weather when it exploded. You almost died because of me. I killed hundreds of grounders because I was angry that they took you from me. Even if it was just one clan. All I could see was red. I let you put yourself in a dangerous situation by helping Kane, but pretending to be on Pike’s side. I should’ve…”

“You should shut up,” I cut him off. “Bellamy… you might’ve done all of that, but I can see that you realized what you did was wrong. Apparently, no one else can but I do. I already forgave you for about half the things you’ve done because I can’t stay mad at you. It’s impossible and really kind of annoying,” I chuckle and see a small smile come to his lips. “You just have to prove to everyone that you’re on our side. That you’re trying to fix things and if they still won’t accept it then fuck them. They’ll figure it out because I know you. I know you won’t stop trying until you succeed.”

Bellamy lets out a tiny scoff, shaking his head while bringing his hand up to my face. “God, how did I ever deserve you?” He asks and rests his forehead against mine.

I shrug my shoulders, looking up at him through my lashes. “I don’t know. Luck of the draw I guess?”

He dips down to press his lips to mine, a small groan escaping from my lips as I wrap my arms around his neck. Bell’s hands move to my waist, sliding around my lower back and deepens the kiss. I bite down on his lip and pull away from him as a moan leaves his lips.

“We can make out later. Right now… we need to go save Raven,” I tell him while combing my fingers through his hair.

“I love you, Angel.”

My cheeks heat up as a large smile comes to my lips. “I love you too, Freckles.”

Taglist: @writing-in-riverdale @cutie-potatox3 @lovefilledtragedy @triscuitcracker @kaylinfayezink @1happygir1 @simplisticwriting @panda-pops701 @twd-rocks-blog @jodiereedus22 @literallyhelpme @divadinag

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codename-bewareofthefangirl · 7 years ago

Text

Hell Mission, IwaOi

DEAAAR @kiviont! Sorry, when people tag me in the comments I don’t receive any notification and I’ve noticed it only know. Anyway, I’ve written this on the train during a no-day, trying to cheer me up. After your comic I was stuck on the story and in the end I couldn’t resist: I wrote this little thing, just to satisfy myself a bit. Now, I’ve corrected it (I hope, since usually my English sucks) and fixed some parts; I don’t know if I should write a sequel or not, every time I write about IwaOi I feel like I could write about them for hours. I hope you won’t be disappointed by the the setting, explanations or developing. I just love their bantering and immediate pining: those two for me a real soulmates.

Have fun and enjoy!

IwaOi, Spy!Iwaizumi x ProPlayer!Oikawa AU, Inspired by/Sequel of This Post, Humor, Fluff, Oikawa Is Thirsty, Iwaizumi Is Done, Mentions of Akaashi/Bokuto/Kuroo/Sugawara

Hell Mission

“Akaashi please send someone else.”

“Iwaizumi-san pl-”

“Akaashi, I’m serious. Send. Someone. Else.”

A sigh from the other end of the transceiver.

“Iwaizumi-san, it’s the first time you’ve asked me something like this in years and I’d love to help you, but, unfortunately, it’s impossible. I can’t send a substitute agent at this time.”

Iwaizumi groaned loudly, hitting the white wall with the palm of the hand.

“Why?” He asked, nearly begged.

Another sigh.

“First, because we’ve already sent to anyone who’s organizing the wedding party your false identity and you can’t suddenly disappear. It could blow our cover.” Akaashi kept speaking in an unexpressive tone, but Iwaizumi could recognize that infamous inflection he used to calm down Bokuto during his childish mood swings and it was irking him, “Second, you’re closed in the restroom. What do you expect me to do?”

Oh, the devil was even smirking right now, Iwaizumi could swear it.

“He’s tried to hit on me. He. Has. Hit. On. Me.” He hissed trying to keep his voice down as someone suddenly entered the luxurious bathroom.

“Yeah, he has good tastes, nothing strange.” Iwaizumi had to bite his tongue to not curse and clenched his fists, waiting for the guest to leave. When he heard the toilet flush and the door closing, he exhaled tiredly.

“Do not make things worse, Akaashi. I’m not supposed to get in touch with him.”

“He’s the one trying to approach you, it would be more strange to blatantly avoid him. Especially when he’s that handsome, and please do not deny it, I have eyes.”

“Yeah, I have them too, thanks. But he’s a freak: he’s followed me after I turned him down and he’s annoyingly persistent. He calls me Hiri-chan and I haven’t even told him my fake name. By the way, I fucking hate it.”

Iwaizumi should have known, from the second his eyes had lingered a second too much on that fake, flamboyant smile, that the mission was going to be hell. “It’s the usual bodyguard stuff!” they have said, “It’s only a week!”, “You’re attending a wedding! You can eat and enjoy yourself as much as you want!” they have repeated while pushing him on a plane to L.A.

Bullshit.

After three hours of following around his never-stopping target, the same guy had had the guts to corner Iwaizumi and shamelessly hit on him.

“It only means the cover is working well,” Akaashi tried to reassure him, not understanding what was bothering his colleague that much, (apart from the name thing, but he found that amusing), “You can’t do nothing about his…cheerful personality.”

“Shitty personality!” Iwaizumi automatically corrected him, “I’ve seen him showing real emotions maybe twice in the entire day…Anyway! That’s not the problem! I wasn’t trying to attract attention, Akaashi. Hell! I tried to keep a low profile!” Iwaizumi said frustrated as he paced back and forth the lucid tile of the toilet. At that point, he hoped someone was going to attack the target for real so that he could vent all that stress out.

“Bokuto let you know that it’s because you’re hot, especially with that shirt, and to not worry about it.” In the background, Iwaizumi could hear the loud agent cackling, probably with Kuroo.

“Tell him I’m going to whoop his ass as soon as I come back.”

He could practically hear Akaashi’ smile.

“I will,” he complied with the usual politeness, “Now, please Iwaizumi-san, leave that restroom and go back to the party. Our target can’t remain without cover too long and you’ve been away for fifteen minutes.”

Iwaizumi sighed, rubbing his temples, but nodded. He knew he hadn’t a choice and, honestly, now that he had calmed a bit, his pride as a secret agent was prodding him to find his mark and do his job as good as he usually did: perfectly. Iwaizumi wasn’t the ace agent of his agency without motive.

“Akaashi?”

“Yes?”

“Keep your eyes open,” Iwaizumi mumbled, “That guy approached me too quickly. It’s strange.”

“Iwaizumi-san, he’s a professional volleyball player, please relax.”

He heard a sudden ruckus and a loud voice pierced his left eardrum.

“GOOD LUCK IWA!” Bokuto screamed excitedly. “EAT A LOT OF GOOD FOOD! THE TARTS LOOK DELICIOUS!”

“Relax Iwa!” Kuroo followed with a lazy chuckle “The poor boy just wants a good bang!”

Iwaizumi felt his vein popping and he angrily hanged up before he could lose his patience and blow his cover by yelling at those dumbasses of his friends.

Gritting his teeth, he straightened the collar of his shirt and checked the guns and knife were hidden in their place. He finally opened the door and cautiously exited from the toilet, surveying his surroundings.

Clear.

He washed his face with cold water and glared at his reflection in the mirror, green eyes ready to murder someone on the spot.

“You can do it,” he whispered to himself, “You’re a professional.”

Iwaizumi took a deep breath and braced himself.

Oikawa Tooru was just a normal, egocentric, pretty guy. Everything was going to be fine.

Or maybe not.

The next day, Iwaizumi was once again locked in the toilet of the restroom, trying to understand what the hell had gone wrong with his mission.

“How the fuck is possible?! Is he the devil?” he roared, scrolling through the photos he had taken that morning.

“Well, this is…interesting.” Akaashi mused in his ear.

“No, it’s creepy!” Iwaizumi repeated, tapping furiously on his camera. He felt partially infuriated, partially amazed and a tiny bit scared.

“Are you sure it’s not a coincidence?”

“I was taking photos of everyone, strolling casually around. I was far away, using the zoom to locate him. It can’t be a coincidence,” He replied, staring at a pair of sharp chocolate eyes, “It can’t be.”

After the incident of the afternoon before, he had decided to try and avoid direct contact with the target. He had kept Oikawa under surveillance from further away, focusing on chatting with other guests and building a more credible cover. During the night, he had managed to sleep only three hours, as that devil had chosen to stay up watching old volleyball matches and shitty tv series until four; for this reason, at morning he had been less than inclined to interact and had used the excuse of photography both to avoid conversations and keep an eye on Oikawa from afar. He had taken photos of him, probably with the idea of studying him later.

And Iwaizumi could have sworn that every time he had pressed the button and snapped the photo, Oikawa wasn’t looking at him. He shouldn’t have, because Iwaizumi was far away and faking to photograph flowers, other peoples enjoying themselves and other shit like that. Because Iwaizumi was undercover and a plain, normal guy that had never talked before with the amazing Oikawa Tooru. Because Iwaizumi was good at his job and his job meant secrecy and going unnoticed.

And yet, there he was. Looking directly into the lens, a faint grin on the thin lips as he challenged Iwaizumi.

“This bastard is playing around,” he growled tightening his grip around a particularly good photo of the boy, sunrays playing with his chestnut hair as he entertained a group of damsels, surrounded by bushes of roses. But he was gazing at Iwaizumi.

“Iwai-”

“Don’t worry Akaashi, one way or another I’ll win this battle!” He felt his heart drumming, the lips curving into a predatory smile. Oikawa wanted to play? Oh, he was ready. Iwaizumi was going to show him how fucking good he was.

“Iwaizumi-san I don’t think you should let hi-”

“Later. I’m going.” And he cut off the communication, storming out of the bathroom ready to fight.

Iwaizumi made small conversation with some random guests, just to mix in the group as he strolled around the spacious, shining ballroom. He side-glanced Oikawa, still surrounded by squealing fans; funny thing, Iwaizumi had never seen him talking to the same person more than twice. Did he really know someone there? He didn’t remember reading about Oikawa’s friends, but maybe he had forgotten it and it wouldn’t have been a surprise. The room was full of people he had been forced to memorize faces and identities, all dressed up in elegant dresses and suits, but that he was already forgetting. It was just…too much. A soft music played in the air, the crystal chandeliers gave everything a golden aura. Well, for being on of the most awaited wedding of the year, they were doing a good job.

“Some champagne, sir?” A posh waiter offered him a flute and he gladly accepted.

The problem with this kind of events? There were too many people. Even if you learned the identity of every guest, an unexpected enemy could still sneak in as a waiter or a forgotten relative or…well, pretty much as everyone. And, obviously, Oikawa had to accept the invite to such a grand occasion instead of staying in his small, tidy apartment where his team could watch over him with ease.

Iwaizumi fought to not frown and sipped the champagne.

“At least the food is good…”

“Well, I’m happy you’re enjoying at least that, since you seem to dislike the company.” It took Iwaizumi all the years of training to not jolt. He stiffened and tried to keep his poker face as he turned to greet his sudden interlocutor.

“The fact that I dislike your company it doesn’t mean I dislike everyone else’s,” he replied blankly. Five seconds before, that little shit was at least twenty feet away from him, how had he done it?

Oikawa Tooru, staring down at him with evident mirth, burst in an amused chuckle.

“Oh no, I’m pretty sure you’re bored out of your mind,” Oikawa winked at him, “I’m an incredibly good observer.” His smirk got sharper as he finished the sentence.

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Really? Is it due to your job?” He faked to not know every single detail of Oikawa’s life.

The brunet frowned and then gaped offended, realizing what he meant.

“You don’t know who am I?” He asked incredulous, a ridiculous pout on his lips.

“I even know your favorite brand of milk bread,” Iwaizumi thought, yet he answered with a shrug.

“I just know you’re annoying. And suck at flirting.”

Oikawa was jaw-dropped. Iwaizumi had to mask a grin watching his butt-hurt expression.

“I,” Oikawa stressed it as he scrunched the nose, “am the national volleyball player Oikawa Tooru-”

“Oh right, I’ve seen you. You’re not bad.”

“I’m not bad?-What?-I’m the best!” Oikawa was now outraged, and Iwaizumi couldn’t restrain himself anymore, bursting in a warm laughter.

“Are you making fun of me?” Oikawa asked suspiciously, crossing his arms. Iwaizumi shrugged again, still a faint smirk on his face.

“Maybe?” He took another sip and glanced around, but nothing attracted his attention. Not when his target was chatting with him, not when the most outstanding man in the room was whining like a child by his side.

“And, anyway,” Oikawa continued poking his shoulder, “I don’t suck at flirting.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes.

“You pinned me to a wall, talking about smooth and subtle,” Iwaizumi snorted, giving him a dirty look. Oikawa scoffed and replied with an alluring half-smile.

“I wasn’t trying to be subtle.” Iwaizumi ignored his cheeks heating up and his mind screaming “FUCK HE’S HOT” and remained deadpan.

“Guess it’s not your forte, anyway.”

Oikawa threw up his hands with an exaggerated sigh, “Let’s leave that aside! I mean,” he corrected himself, “it is outrageous and absurd that you don’t appreciate my appeal, yet I’m more disturbed by the fact that this conversation has just destroyed all my hypothesis.”

Even if he still wore that carefree smile, Iwaizumi noted how his eyes had become suddenly serious. He should have left with an excuse, not letting his target drag him into dangerous situation but…there was something captivating, something that pushed Iwaizumi to stay to discover, see more about him. He felt curious. And, damn, challenged and irritated, but that was another factor.

“What hypothesis?” he asked as Oikawa checked him from head to toes.

“Uh? Ah, that you are a tsundere, obsessive fan of mine.” Iwaizumi’s disgusted and horrified expression hurt Oikawa’ pride.

“Do you have this kind of fans?”

“Yeah, from time to time, but you evidently are not one of them.”

“On my dead body,” Iwaizumi assured him gravely. Fuck the mission, he has his pride to protect.

Oikawa nodded, acknowledging his words, and hummed thoughtfully. His long, slender fingers loosened up the knot of the teal tie he was wearing and Iwaizumi’s eyes flickered to the smooth skin of his throat.

“So,” Oikawa mused regaining the other’s attention in a heartbeat, “Why were you photographing me?”

Iwaizumi risked choking. Shit, that dumbass really wasn’t subtle at all.

He stared at his target. The boy was waiting, trying to hide the trepidation behind the sharp, piercing eyes, and everything in his body posture, straight back and arms crossed, signaled that he didn’t have any intention of back up without an answer. Maybe, there was a little of fear or hesitancy in the way he bit the corner of his bottom lip, but Iwaizumi felt sure that wasn’t going to stop Oikawa. He had seen one of his matches: that guy was made to fight, especially battles that seemed impossible.

“How did you know?” He asked instead, taking his time to choose what to do.

Oikawa flashed a peace sign, grinning proudly.

“Setters’ keen senses,” He replied puffing his chest out, “A real setter is able to see everything on the court and to analyze every detail to plan how to move. I told you, I am the best.”

His unwavering self-coincidence struck Iwaizumi. The setter wasn’t joking, he was oozing honesty and pride and, for once, it was genuine and sort of…not annoying? Iwaizumi could tell it wasn’t just boasting, Oikawa knew what he was talking about and seemed to have worked hard for it.

“So?” Oikawa pushed, leaning a bit to get on the same-eye level of his.

Iwaizumi clicked his tongue, irritated by the difference in height, and flickered his forehead. He grabbed the tie of the brunet and pulled him closer.

“Follow me,” he ordered in a gruff whisper and quickly turned on his heels, walking straight to the balcony.

Oikawa, cheeks reddening, stumbled on his feet and rushed behind him. That had been…hot. Shit that man was hot. Hot. Hot. Hot. Oikawa could hear his friend Sugawara laughing at him for being such a clumsy, thirsty teenager.

Iwaizumi guided them until they were in a secluded area of the garden, inside a childish maze of pruned hedges. The red rays of the dying sun cast strange shadows on the ground, while silly couples chased each other or strolled peacefully while talking in whispers. The man nudged to the brunet to sit on a bench of stone.

Oikawa was literally quivering with curiosity as he bounced his leg up and down while he waited for the answer. He wanted to know why that -hot- stranger was observing, or stalking, him and he really, really hoped it wasn’t because he was a sort of psychopath.

Iwaizumi scanned the area, searching for any sign of threats. When he found none, he finally brought his gaze back on the player.

“Could you stop moving? You’re attracting attention,” he grunted with a dirty look.

Oikawa glared.

“If you answered me, maybe I could,” he coldly replied, yet he did as asked and smoothly relaxed his shoulders. He even wore a fake smile, as a practiced mask.

Iwaizumi snorted at his expression, but didn’t comment.

“Do you remember the middle-blocker from the Kyoto Team you defeated three weeks ago?” he asked instead, stretching a bit to loosen the tension in his muscles.

Oikawa eyes fell on his arms and his throat dried.

“You mean the lousy, whiny middle-blocker that offered me money to let them win?” Oikawa managed to answer, tearing his gaze away and focusing on Iwaizumi’s face. Bad idea, those cheekbones were sharp enough to cut his heart in two.

The raven nodded, hiding a smirk at the disgust in Oikawa’s voice.

“That one,” he confirmed, “He hadn’t lied when he had threatened you, dumbass. He really was from Yakuza.” Iwaizumi revealed it slowly, trying to read every expression passing in Oikawa’s eyes.

Surprise. Shock. Confusion. Understanding.

Fear.

“Yakuza?” he repeated, playing with the hem of his shirt. “I thought he was bluffing...” Even if he was trying to conceal the tremor in his voice, Iwaizumi still noticed it.

“Yeah, he’s one of the younger sons. He didn’t take really well your rejection and…asked his dad to take care of it, to heal his wounded pride. The fact that you whooped his ass during the match didn’t help.”

Oikawa frozen, chocolate eyes blown wide. His entire body tensed and Iwaizumi stilled in response; he had a feeling that if he dared to make the slightest move, the setter was going to flee with all of his energy.

“So?” Oikawa whispered, forcing a blank expression.

Iwaizumi frowned. Fear didn’t suit Oikawa.

“So, they sent me to protect your shitty ass, stop being so fucking scared.”

Oikawa gaped, “You’re here to protect me?” he shrilled loudly and Iwaizumi cursed, slapping a hand over his mouth with a deadly glare.

“I’m trying, but you’re making things difficult Trashkawa!” he growled as he glanced around. Nothing suspicious.

Oikawa nodded and Iwaizumi released him before his mind could focus on the fact that Oikawa’s lips were in fact as soft as they looked and-Fuck.

“Who asked you to protect me?” he whispered excitedly, smiling like a child, “Are you a bodyguard? Have you done this before? Is your name really Hiri Nezumi? Have you already find someone suspicious? Can I help you in any way?” At every question, Oikawa inched closer until he was few breaths away from Iwaizumi’s embarrassed face.

Shit, his lashes were long.

“First,” he slapped his hand on Oikawa’s face and pushed him away, “We were already monitoring that gang and we couldn’t let them kill off a national player, so we took action.”

“I knew you knew who I was!” Oikawa cheered proudly, making him roll his eyes.

“Second,” Iwaizumi continued, “I’m a secret agent, not a full-time bodyguard and-”

“That’s so cool!” the brunet thrilled bouncing on his seat and Iwaizumi felt the need to slap him on the head and hug him at the same time. Oikawa was more of a dork than what he seemed.

“Anyway, my name is not Hiri Nezumi*, my stupid colleagues chose that stupid name for me.”

Oikawa snorted and chirped a “Fitting,” before Iwaizumi shut him with a glare.

“And finally, no I haven’t found anyone suspicious for now and the only way you can help me is behaving and not blowing my cover. Do what you were doing, be normal, forget everything.”

Oikawa pouted, deluded.

“But I can’t forget it now that I know it!” He complained waving his hands around, “I can’t Agent-san! Absolutely impossible.”

Iwaizumi groaned, “Do you want to die? No? Do what I say.”

Oikawa stubbornly shook his head and Iwaizumi felt tempted to stun him and lock him away until the week had passed. He wasn’t bothered about it being illegal, not when Oikawa’s capacity of annoying the shit out of him and still looking cute was illegal as fuck.

“What if I have a better idea?” Oikawa interrupted his dark plans and the raven knew from that sultry tone that he was going to regret everything he had done until that moment.

The brunet leaned again, locking eyes with him. A hopeful, tempting light shined on his perfect face and Iwaizumi would have wanted to stand up and leave, but he could only restrain himself from headbutting him. Or kissing him. He hadn’t decided yet.

“I bet it’s going to be a stupid one,” he deadpanned, but Oikawa didn’t waver.

“Well, you have to keep an eye on me, right?” Iwaizumi nodded slightly and Oikawa’s sharp grin widened, “Then, let me flirt successfully with you, Mr. Secret Agent-san,” he whispered tilting his head to the side, chestnut locks falling on his eyes, “I’ll make sure you’ll never lose sight of me for the rest of the week, night and day. Never.”

Oh, Iwaizumi should have known that mission was going to be hell.

His target was the devil himself.

*Hirinezumi means Hedgehog (guess who has chosen it ;D)

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