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mrpenguinpants · 4 years

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Genshin: Roommate HCs [V1]

To be honest, I just wanted to ramble some more and let my brainworms take over. This is sorta late but Happy Valentine’s everyone! I was gonna post this earlier but this honestly took me a long time to write so I moved it to today.

Once again, this is 90% crack 10% content. Seriously, as much as I love writing this non-serious fics. Why do you people like this?

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Based off my ramblings with Keqing anon: Link

Genshin: Holding Hands [V1]

Genshin: When you’re cold [V1]

Genshin: University AU [V1]

Genshin: Royalty AU [V1]

[Masterlist]

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[taglist] <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @kaechu @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife @dokidokisama @rokipersonal@minakohasmanyhusbandos @strwbrry-lia @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki @hanniejji @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @sunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @nonniechan @htnicayh @genshins1mpact

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Diluc

What? Diluc has a roommate? Did you blackmail him in living with you? Is that even possible? Did you throw yourself in front of his car because you needed someone to pay for your student loans and the easiest way was to file a lawsuit? In this economy no one would blame you. Diluc seems like such the self-isolated character that would murder his roommate in cold blood but in reality, he act’s detached from the world because he forgot how to socialize and he’s desperately trying to cover it up without choking. That or he’s trying to learn how to astral project. If he could drink away the pain he would but instead he buys 20 packs of grape Kool-Aid and injects it into his veins.

Does not and will not ever have a normal sleeping schedule. You’ll wake up to him working, come back home to him working, and will sleep to him still working. His daily dose of Vitamin D is from the brightness of his screen rather than the sun and he’s filter feeding at this point. It’s concerning. He’s going to crumble and he’s bringing the world down with him. Through the power of tax evasion. But as soon as he needs to walk out into society, he pulls movie magic and looks like perfection. It’s both physically and mentally disgusting.

He’s actually is a really nice roommate to have just so long as you give him space. Great cook and knows to clean up after himself. Though he does have crash and burn days where’s he’s completely out of commission. You could set the entire apartment on fire and he would sleep through it. The entire two weeks are dedicated to zombie eye marathons and then he’ll suddenly collapse and sleep for 46 hours straight. When he wakes up from his hibernation he’s the most groggy and nonsensical person. His life blood is coffee because you keep hiding the 5 hour energy away from him because, you know, life is enjoyable and those cancer bottles will actually kill him.

“University sucks our money out of our bodies faster than our will to live.”

Beidou [Happy Birthday Queen 💕]

Despite her appearance, she’s actually really strong and it scares the piss out of you when you’re doing something or scrolling through your phone mindlessly and you suddenly get your spine re-arranged when she slaps you on the back to ask what you’re doing. Likewise, when she hoists you up and throws you over her shoulder so you come with her on her 3am convivence store raids for alcohol. It’s either you change now or else we’re walking out of the apartment in your t-shirt and no pants self. She can and will carry you under her arm that way. It’s both incredibly attractive and horrifying at the same time.

She’s really friendly and a great talker if you’re alright with her “I must hold you in my arms, fresh prince of bel air style”. It doesn’t matter if you’re taller than her, she’s doing it. She does however, get in a bit of trouble from her rowdiness and you often get noise complaints but Beidou just passes them off to Ningguang and everything is fixed. She has ovaries of steel when neighbors rather confront her personally and she’s ready to 1v1 in the parking lot. You’re trying to desperately hold onto her shirt to stop her from pile driving your neighbors for the third time this week but she’s too strong.

She’s constant party until we die attitude and suffers the hangover in the morning. It’s actually really funny to catch her in her hangover moods because whatever filter Beidou had, which is none, is gone. She really takes “cursing like a sailor” or the next level and the amount of creativity she comes up with is actually impressive. She can be a bit messy but she’s really likeable and always down to go anywhere with you as long as you’ll do the same. It’s a very ride together, we die together situation. You’re my best friend, you’re dying with me. I’ll see you in hell.

“Imma T pose over my dad and then crash the car into the parking garage.”

Kaeya

Kaeya on the surface seems like such a chill roommate. And he is for the most part. But he’s such an ass. Your things are his things, no questions asked. If you just bought a really nice sweater or you had leftover food, that’s his now. He’s innocent until proven guilty even if he’s literally holding your lunch. The pure amount of bullshit he can spit out to convince you that no, he did not pull the fire alarm because he wanted an excuse for not going to work, puts him on Shakespeare level. He’s also very pretty, way too pretty, sir can you share some of your genes?

But aside from that, he’s actually super dependable. You forgot something at home? Sure, he has nothing better to do so he can bring them for you. We’re missing eggs? No problem, he’s just by the store. You’re 95% sure that he just wants to be cheeky and make you thank him for 20 minutes before he actually hands you what you asked for. It’s better for you if you never tell him anything you’re afraid of because Kaeya has no social cues, or more like he throws them out the window, and he’s probably a psychopath.

He’s incredibly private of his room and things despite his attitude towards yours. You’re convinced he either has a secret lab or that’s where he’s storing the bodies. I was the good guy but due to unfortunate circumstances, I need to stab a bitch. But he’s a really good serious talker for those 3am, because everything happens at 3am, talks about life and the meaning of the universe. It absolutely wrecks your sleep schedule but some of the things you talk about are the most crackhead things like what’s the lowest amount of money someone would have to pay you to walk outside without clothes? It’s a legitimate question.

“Never before have I been so offended with something I 100% agree with.”

Jean

Okay, what world did you save in a past life to live with his absolutely wonderful woman? Mother Teresa take a load off, take a seat. You have nothing to worry about. She’ll bring home little treats back home and it’s the most wholesome thing ever?? Is this what love and affection feels like? We’ve been starved for so long. She says it’s not a big deal and anyone would do it BUT THE MOMENT SOMEONE BUYS FOOD FOR YOU. IT’S A MAGICAL MOMENT. They are forever stuck in your will until proven otherwise. An absolute ray of sunshine that must be protected.

She does get super busy so you don’t often see each other or get to hang out as much. She’s a bit of a workaholic but a lot more easier to talk her into taking a break. She’s also a pretty decent cook but she prefers baking and jesus christ, girl can you calm down? Be still my beating heart, I’ve been smitten. Has mother hen vibes that you’re not sure if she’s your roommate or if she adopted you into her family. It’s time to start a petition for the Jean protection squad. Given the opportunity, I would aggressively hold your hand.

She’s always open to whatever you want to do. Any recommendations or things that you like she will try out at least once despite her busy schedule. She’s lowkey lonely because work consumes her so any time you want to hang out or do something together, she jumps on it like she’s feral. She get’s a bit shy to ask if she can join in on your plans because she doesn’t want to bother you or intrude no matter how many times you tell her that’s okay, she still get’s a bit iffy about it. Please save this girl before she trips. In your arms. Platonically. Just kidding haha. Unless?

“I can’t wait to see you happy and not hating everyone again haha.”

Childe

First impressions of Childe were great, until he opened his mouth and you realized how much of a two brain cell child(e) he was. He has two braincells because they constantly have to 1v1 in his brain. He’s lived with a lot of siblings so he has no social awareness or concept of privacy that you’re lucky if you come home and he’s half-dressed. It doesn’t matter if you’re 2 weeks older than him, he’s going to call you 82 years old and why your bones aren’t being fossilized at this point. He’s such a little shit, this fucker licks the yogurt lid peel.

He get’s really restless when he’s stuck under house arrest, because apparently 1v1ing in the parking lot of a Wendy’s is illegal for some reason, so he makes dying whale noises until he get’s to go outside again. But he’s actually a really wholesome guy, probably because of his younger siblings, that he’ll sometimes get you something because you seemed down and it’s such whiplash? Who is this man and where did he come from? You’re starting to have a change of heart before he tells you that he got banned from the library for accidently punching the school’s computer. How you “accidently” punch something you have no idea but Childe always comes home with some sort of injury. Maybe he’s just incredibly clumsy. For your sanity, you’re going to go with that.

He’s actually so uncultured that it’s crippling. You can’t blame him too much considering his upbringing and it’s great that he’s so interested in learning new things but...child no...It makes you want to take your spine out of your ass and rip it like a Beyblade. Watching him take chopsticks and stab his food like it’s marshmallows makes you want to fall into a blackhole and let the chair consume you.

“I, too, fantasize about beating the living shit out of people.”

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Is this another tag yourself game cause I resonate with Diluc. I’m crying in insomnia. As much as I enjoy writing these fics I absolutely hate tagging them. I remember I used to have a tag anon but that was back when I wrote for bnha.

Valentine’s Day was fun tho. I had a drinking game with friends as we played league then ended it off with a movie night.

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monochromemedic · 3 years

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I had been stuck in the Dark World for who knows how long. The days didn’t seem to matter down here. No sun, no moon, just the vibrant green grid that coated the sky that would twitch and surge with occasional frequency. When I first got here, I fought hard to get back to the surface, to fight for any sense of normalcy, for home but after a while the dream began to fade. The options began to run dry when compared to the dangers that surrounded me. And so I settled. I survived. I searched for food, begged for shelter from kind Darkners. I did what I had to to live. The Queen was not an option. Whispers from Darkners told me how I was just what she was looking for, that would help her expand her reign to the Light World. As much as that would probably help me, I didn’t want to ruin the lives of others for the chance to see my family, as much as I missed them with every passing minute. The sound of bustling cars and the blinding lights of neon signs stung my senses, my palms pressing into my eyes to drown out what I could. Damn it this place never slept did it? There was always something, some sort of noise. Whatever bags I had under my eyes were probably made cartoonishly drastic with the lack of pure rest I was getting. ‘Supose it was better then being dead... My body felt heavy, and I knew I’d have to find a place to rest or I’d fall asleep mid crossing of a road and get run over by one of those goofy cars I’d seen. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad... I recalled the time one of the car’s rear bumped into a fire hydrant (or at least I thought it was) and made a squeaking sound. The darkness of a certain alley called to me, the silence a sweet lullaby to the roaring around me. Was it dangerous? Oh yeah. Was it stupid? No shit. Was I going to do it? The shadows the engulfed me were perfect and if it wasn’t for the underlying stench of garbage it’d probably be ideal. Still beggars couldn’t be choosers and if tonight was good enough I would have to consider having this as my permanent sleeping spot. My back slid against the cool wall across from the dumpster, eyes half lidded as they read the advertisements littering above. Why the hell did the Queen have ads anyway, if she wanted she could monopolize any products she wanted... Despite the quiet I couldn’t shake the feeling that creeped down my spine. The presence of something other then myself around me. I tried to close my eyes, I was in the city after all. It’d be concerning if I didn’t feel like people were one second from crawling up my ass. Though I had to admit I didn’t expect to actually feel something begin to touch me. My eyes snapped open, elbow prodding into a blurry shape that yelped and tumbled backward, it’s grasp my on shoulder tearing a hole in my already worn shirt in the struggle. “Hey! What the hell?!” I barked, standing over the perpetrator. My shoulders slumped when I saw what looked to be a doll staring up at me with wide eyes, an over exaggerated smile permanently spread across it’s face. The creature’s jaw opened wider with a clack, it’s small body shooting upwards to stand on it’s small pointed feet. “WOAH WOAH WOAHAH- [Live worms]!” The darkner’s voice was deafeningly loud, a shrill tone that cut the air like newly sharpened blades. “ I THOUGHT YOU WERE [Roadkill]. NICE TO KNOW I WON’T BE [Sleeping with the fishes] T0NIGHT!!” Well he had a certain way of speaking that was obvious. What the hell was going on with him, he talked like he was constantly being cut of random clips of other people speaking. He talked like a youtube poop or any other shitpost that would randomly shove memes into them for a quick laugh. “You thought I was dead? I was just... I was... uh.” I looked around me, eyeing the dirt and debris. “I was... going to sleep... here.” Dammit, telling people I had to sleep in such ratty places were always a blow to the ego but I suppose it was better then saying ‘Oh I was just sitting down here to die’ The puppet shook his head and waltzed over to the dumpster, his small hand smacking the side with a sense of pride. “ [Finders keepers, losers weepers] HUMAN, YOU PICKED A GOOD SPOT. TOO BAD [so sadd] I GOT HERE FIRST. THOUGH FOR A DEAL I SUPPOSE I COULD [Share the love~]” “Got here first... what are you talking about?” The Darkner let out a laugh, distorted echoes filling the air as he leapt inside, a solitary hand popping out to beg me to come closer. This was a terrible idea, but despite my best judgement I followed, and witnessed what I could only describe to be a makeshift bed inside. The puppet laid on top of musty mats and raggedy rugs, a single stained pillow resting just beneath his head. My god was he living in here? The creature continued his laugh, lurching only a few inches away from my face. “ [Sweet deal] ISN’T IT? J3ALOUS, [baby]?” I shirked back, cheeks reddening at the tone of his last word. I was most defiantly not jealous, in fact I was filled with remorse, something his pride did not help with. “It’s... uh something. I guess this means I’ll have to find another alleyway um, sorry for bothering you-” “SPAMTON.” “What?” His hand shot out towards my chest, fingers wiggling for a handshake. “SP-SPA MTON G SPAMTON, [Number 1 rated salesmen 1997]” He announced, an extra flair of bravado laced his titled. His hand was surprisingly warm for what it was made of but nothing that would be described as body temperature. “Jenna. Also 1997.” “WHAT A YEAR. LISTEN LIGHT nER, I AM DEALSMAN [yes/no?]” “Um... y-yes? I don’t-” “THEN LET ME MAKE A DEAL YEAH? FOR ONLY [many] KROMER, YOU MAY STAY IN MY [Privately owned] ALLEY. IT’S A REAL [steal] YOU’RE ROBBING ME [deaf] HERE!” My brows furrowed as I searched his face for any context clues for what the hell he was trying to say. Kromer? What the fuck was ‘kromer’? The only thing I knew of currency down here was dark dollars not kromer... even if he did ask for dark dollars he didn’t name a price, he just said many. And the amount of dark dollars I had was zero. “Uh I don’t have kromer. I don’t even have dark dollars I’m kinda broke Spamton, in case you couldn’t tell from uh...” I trailed off realizing saying that sleeping in an alley wasn’t a very smart thing to say to someone who slept in an alley. He seemed surprised by my words, beginning to tug on my coat, flipping my pockets to see if I was really lying. I had to push his mitts off me a couple of times, to which he eventually got the idea the way his hands began to rub at his extended jaw. “NO KROMER... WHAT CAN YOU DO?” “What do you mean?” He seemed to sense my change in tone, his grin beginning to wobble nervously “[Whoopsie daisy!] LET ME START AGAIN. DO YOU HAVE A [trade]? A [skill] TO [Exchange for goods and services]?” he croaked. I eyed the ground, rubbing the back of my neck. What the hell was I good at again? “I mean, I can draw, I suppose...” “ARTIST? WOW OWOW!” Spamton’s face lit up before digging in the dumpster, pulling out a few napkins and a ball point pen and shoving them into my hands. “WHAT A [trade] TELL YOU WHAT. YOU DRAW A [one-of-a-kind masterpiece] AND YOU CAN STAY THE NIGHT!” “You’ll let me stay... if I draw something for you on this napkin. Am I getting that right?” The doll nodded feverishly, basically hovering over my shoulder as I played with the pen. This was certainly the weirdest way to pay someone that I could imagine... well no but one that was in the realm of reality. I had to ask Spamton to give me some space a few time, the feeling of his breath on my neck making me more then nervous as I drew. God he was like those kids in school that would ask for drawings but ten times worse with the amount of personal space he’d give you. Besides I needed something to draw and with nothing on the mind why not draw the most interesting thing in front of me. I held the finished doodle out to Spamton only to have it snatched out of my fingers so fast I swore we could have started a fire. “WOAH...” The puppet sank inside of the dumpster, his face softening as for once in what seemed like forever the alley way grew silent. “THIS IS... ME?” “Yeah. Sorry I didn’t know what to draw, you kind of put me on the spot. Besides everyone likes drawings of themselves right?” I shrugged, being pulled away from my thoughts by an overdramatic sniffle. Was he... crying? Not quite, just damn well close. Spamton’s shoulders quaked as a warm smile returned to his cheeks, slipping the napkin into his pocket with glee. “SO GOOD... THANK YOU.” “It’s really nothing, honestly that was a pretty shitty drawing.” “WHAT? YOU’RE [&#!^]ING ME! THAT WAS [BIG SHOT]” He was screaming again, hands gesturing wildly about. “It wasn’t but thank you. I wish I was better to be honest. I’m not very happy with my art, not at all.” I turned away from his gaze, unsure of why I was overcome by a choking sensation building my throat. Why the hell was I telling this stranger this sort of stuff anyway? I mean I could hazard a guess it was the fact that this was the longest conversation I had had with anyone since I had gotten down here but with how things were it could be some magic power the doll possessed to tell him my deepest darkest secrets. “YOU DON’T THINK THIS IS [Big?]” “No.” “WHY NOT?” “I don’t know. I just... I think it doesn’t look the way I want it to. Doesn’t look good to me, and I don’t know how to fix it. Which I guess is a little funny considering how long I’ve been drawing. Just keep... drawing and drawing and never improving, least not how I’d like. It’s just garbage to me.” Spamton’s face seemed to fall, his glasses fading to a dark inky black. “YOU FEEL? NO GOOD AT WHAT YOU DO? YOUR [passion]?” “Yeah.” A laugh ripped from his chest, his head lolling back with each chuckle. I felt my soul began to crack, a shame flooding my body with how hard he seemed to laugh. Did he find this funny? Humorous? I felt tears prick my eyes as I snapped my head back to glare at him, his head glitching back to stare back at me. “YOU’RE JUST LIKE ME, JENNA. A [slime] A REAL [slime]!” With a quick motion the puppet jumped to the ground, his hand resting against my arm as he spoke. “YOU’RE A REAL [BIG SHOT] YOU KNOW THAT? STAY AS LONG AS YOUR [Greasy little heart] DESIRES!” Well... that was unexpected. He’d really let me stay here as long as I want cause I was pathetic? Or did he just feel sorry for me? What was going on? And why was he calling me a slime... or us a slime? “Oh... uh thanks? I didn’t think I was being much of a big shot whatever that is but I apricate it. Really.” His head clacked with every little nod, leading me to a pile of cardboard boxes and patting them with the grace of a car salesman. “BEST [Seat in the house] ALL FOR YOU. [Night night forever]!” Spamton beamed, awkwardly swaying side to side before stumbling back to the dumpster a few inches away and crawling inside of it, much like a wild animal. I couldn’t help but laugh a little. This guy was weird. Kinda creepy but also kind of funny. I honestly couldn’t pinpoint a feeling on him but at least he didn’t want to hurt me just make weird ass deals and make me ‘big’. Did that mean famous? Was this guy so into my art he wanted to be some sort of manager? I rubbed my eyes and let out a yawn, the excitement of the day finally beginning to fade. God I forgot how tired I was, that little guy made me feel like I was gonna go into fight or flight. “Hey Spamton?” “YES?” his voice echoed from inside the metal container. “...Thank you.”

#self insert #spamton #vent #idk im just thinking #just wanted something to do

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 3 years

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mr. worst cup

CollegeBarista!Jaemin x Reader

summary: Jaemin messes up your order and in turn messes up any chance at any sort of relationship with you (or so he thinks)

word count: 4.3k

A/N: I really hope you guys like it!

Taglist! @eggbutnotyolk

Mornings, Jaemin hated them. Yes, that was beyond cliche, but it was the truth. Especially right now. At approximately 7 am, Jaemin also hated being awake, Jeno, being cold, people, Jeno again, and work.

Jaemin and Jeno both worked at a cafe near campus where Jeno worked the morning shift, had time for a quick workout, then went to school, all because he enjoyed mornings. On the other hand, Jaemin hated mornings, so he slept in, went to class in the afternoon for a few hours, and then came to work in the evenings. It was a schedule that just worked for the both of them, no downsides- usually.

But Jaemin was not in the comfort of his bed, dreaming, drooling, and snoozing away like he could have been this morning. No, he was working Jeno’s shift because Jaemin was the best friend on the planet and he would do anything for Jeno anytime Jeno wanted- no. Jeno had woken up with a high fever and a sore throat, and it was easier to wake Jaemin, his roommate, to ask for him to cover his shift than to text another coworker. Anything for the health of the general public, gag, Jaemin hated how nice Jeno was sometimes.

So after opening at a bright and early 6:45, helping only one customer in the 45 minutes that he had been open, Jaemin was starting to feel that anger from being up so early. He should have some coffee to give himself energy and help with the anger, but his brain just couldn’t seem to send the signals to his limbs to make him move. His eyes were locked on all the empty tables and chairs of the cafe, tables and chairs that were always filled during his normal evening shift. The emptiness paired with the godforsaken jazz song playing over and over and over again were driving him insane. After a five-minute war between his mind and body, he got to work making a drink for himself. His specialty iced americano with his precious eight shots of espresso. His priceless, liquid gold. He was so concentrated while making his drink that he didn’t even hear the door open to reveal his second customer of the day.

“Oh my god, Jeno! Eight shots?” He heard a voice exclaim. “Oh, you’re not Jeno, I’m so sorry.”

“Just a minute please, I’ll be right with you,” Jaemin replied.

He couldn’t keep you waiting forever, so he set his prepared drink aside and made his way to the customer at the counter. Oh, this cute customer. He quickly turned to the register, asking you for your order with a polite smile.

“Just a medium iced caramel latte with almond milk, double the caramel drizzle, and an extra shot please.” You recited your order.

He nodded, took the money, and began working on your order, but unfortunately, his mind was not on your order. He just wanted a sip of his coffee, for the energy to kick in. His body was craving it, the taste, the energy that would make him feel normal, like a human. He could have gotten a quick sip in if the bell over the door hadn’t distracted him. Another customer, same routine: smile, I’ll be right with you, finish one drink, new drink to make. He distractedly reached for the cup on the counter, calling out your name before turning to the new customer.

You approached the counter hesitantly, this did not look like your drink. The bell over the door sounded again and again as you hesitantly reached for the drink that was supposedly yours. You could just ask him to remake your drink, but the line was getting longer with the morning rush beginning and you had to get to class soon. That and you would feel awful asking him to waste supplies to make a simple drink again.

Okay, you reassured yourself, hopefully, this wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe this barista just makes it differently, much differently, than Jeno does. You grabbed the drink and a straw, calling out a “thank you” as you walked out of the cafe. Stopping beside a trash bin you unwrapped the straw and took a sip of the pitch-black drink. Your face scrunched up in disgust, you could barely fight back the urge to spit out the coffee, no matter how hard your body was screaming at you to get it out.. You could not bring yourself to even look at the poison in hand so you tossed it into the bin, what a sad waste of money and his work.

The next morning you walked in a little later, as your first class of the day had gotten canceled. You joined the line, looking at the menu because you could not and would not order your usual today. Normally you wouldn’t have to look at the menu, Jeno knew how to make your drink perfectly, but Jeno was not there. The take on your drink yesterday had scarred you, perhaps a hot tea today.

“Hello, the caramel latte again today?” The same barista from yesterday asked. Where the hell was this guy getting “again” from?

You smiled almost apologetically with a hint of apprehension, “No thank you, just a mint green tea with honey please.”

He nodded, tapping away on the tablet, taking your money, and getting straight to work. The bell over the door became the background noise as the rush of professionals and early risers came in for their morning caffeine fix. Jaemin looked at the clock quickly, just 10 minutes before another coworker would show up to help him, this rush was too crazy. He quickly stirred the honey into the cup, called your name, and got to the counter to continue taking orders. It was too bad he didn’t get to make more conversation or look at you longer. Not in a weird way, he felt like he had barely had a chance to even get a glance at you today.

You had barely made it on time to class, sliding into your seat just a minute before your professor walked in and began a quick review of your last class. You sat back with a sigh, taking a sip of your warm drink.

Well, this was odd, your tea didn’t taste like tea at all. Maybe it was just the first sip? No, the next sip tasted like nothing but honey. Confused, you took the lid off the cup to take a look, only to be met with the sight of steaming water mixed with honey-no tea in sight.

After class, you sent a quick text to your usual barista and friend, Jeno, to let him know that you had notes for him. Time to carry on with your day, sadly caffeine-free.

Jaemin had had no idea that he had messed your drinks up so badly. When he had given you his americano the rush had just come in so when he went to look for his drink later he had figured that his coworker had just accidentally tossed it. The second day, he could blame the rush again. He had haphazardly tossed a tea bag in the general vicinity of the cup before passing it in your direction. So it came as a surprise to him that for the rest of the week that he covered Jeno’s shift, the cute customer that came in right before the rush, that would be you, had stopped coming in. It was a shame, but he could continue on with his life with little to no regret. Maybe he would see you again or maybe another customer would catch his eye. There was no use in dwelling on something he had no control over or wasting time letting his mind run wild with anxious thoughts of why you hadn’t come back.

That was until he came home one day a week later to find Jeno on a loud call. Jeno smiled and quickly mouthed to Jaemin that he was on the phone with a friend. “Jeno, I’m telling you. That was the worst coffee I have ever tasted. Never in my life have I had a drink that could be used to run a car. I just don’t understand how you could mess up a caramel latte that bad.” He heard.

Caramel latte? The voice sounded familiar but he was hopeful that maybe, just maybe it wasn’t you.

“And the next day, god Jeno, I ordered a tea because I was so nervous to order a coffee and all I got was hot water, then I stopped going until you went back.” It was you, This was the worst-case scenario and it was you, the cute customer that he had developed a tiny, little crush on. He tried to remember how he had made your orders, and he swore he made them the way he asked. But how was he supposed to remember anything correctly when he was up before 10 every day and coming in contact with a hundred people?

“Yeah, I can do Friday morning, see you then.” Had Jaemin missed the rest of the conversation? It seemed so.

“So Mr. Makes the Worst Cup of Coffee, how was your day?” Jeno smirked.

Jaemin scoffed, “We don’t even know if it was me.”

Jeno burst out laughing immediately going to explain that those were the days that he was sick while Jaemin yelled over him stating that perhaps, perhaps, it was another barista you were talking about. But they both knew that no one else that worked in the cafe drank anything nearly as strong as Jaemin’s iced americano. Jaemin sighed having clearly lost the argument, “How do you know them anyway?”

“We’re the same major,” Jeno answered with a simple shrug. Maybe it wasn’t too late for a change in major.

This customer was so close to home and he had somehow ruined one of the things he prided himself on. He was so proud of his barista abilities, it was a passion of his. Customers constantly came back for his drinks specifically, left him tips (for his drinks or looks- he didn’t care), asked when Jaemin would be back on his days off, and he had gotten employee of the month a few times.

After that night, you had not left Jaemin’s mind. It was like all he could think about was you. When he saw Jeno, every day, he wondered if Jeno had seen you. When he woke up every morning he remembered that you were up early, bright-eyed and ready to take on the day. At work, he constantly wondered if maybe you would come in and order something. Walking across campus he wondered if he maybe had a class in the same buildings as you. At this point, it was no longer a little crush on the cute customer that came in twice a couple weeks ago, it was a crush on a friend of a friend, someone that he could actually potentially meet one day.

Maybe he could run into you on campus, leaving the library after studying so hard that he could offer to buy you a cup of coffee. There could be a party soon that the two of you would magically bump into each other at where he could blow you away with his bartending skills. It was such a weird thing for Jaemin to experience, imagining what might be with someone he didn’t know beyond being a customer. He had been in relationships before but never had there been a person that consumed his every thought.

Granted the day after the call, Jaemin did feel a little- or really a lot of anger towards you saying he made the worst cup of coffee that he did actually let his anger fuel his day. He was flipping violently through textbooks, punching away at the keys on his computer, nearly ripping through sheets of paper with the pressure of his pencil. He didn’t like this feeling, he had to remind himself to calm down and take deep breaths. No one had ever made him feel this angry, if it was even anger that he was feeling or maybe just sadness poorly masked as anger. That made much more sense, it really did pay off to have taken that psychology class his first semester.

You had become so involved in every part of Jaemin’s day that he just wondered if in this very moment he was imagining you walking out of Starbucks while he sat at a red light on a sunny Friday morning. Had his mind become so powerful that he could now make things and people appear out of thin air? He hadn’t tried that since he was a kid, but maybe he had just become more powerful. It couldn’t be you though right? He knew there was no way he had super powers, but there was also no way it actually was you, it would be the biggest coincidence. He rolled down the passenger side window, leaning closer to the sidewalk where you were walking towards the parking lot and gasped when he realized that his imagination was in fact, not playing tricks on him, it really was you.

“Are you cheating on us?!” He screeched. Uh oh, he wasn’t supposed to say that out loud. The stupid mermaid was just staring at him mockingly, he couldn’t stop himself from saying it. It was the worst word vomit he had ever experienced.

You stopped and squinted trying to look at who had just yelled at you, lucky for you Jaemin was still in shock from actually yelling that he was frozen still with a hand clasped over his mouth. Yup, that would be the person that yelled. You looked him dead in the eye and took a long sip of the drink in hand. “Tastes better than yours.” You cheekily called back.

Jaemin’s jaw dropped, he was so ready to defend his barista title, his locally-owned cafe, but the car behind him seemed to think the opposite thanks to its incessant honking because the light had been green for more than 10 seconds. Once again, you had plagued his thoughts, not necessarily in a good way though. You had betrayed him-no, you hadn’t but he was dramatic.

He could at least spend some time away from you, it’s not like he saw you out in public very often, ever saw you on campus, or came in during his shift. He was lost in his thoughts as he walked through the door to his apartment. He heard Jeno laugh, then a new voice. Very odd, but he put on a smile and reminded himself to be polite.

“Hi- oh you,” Jaemin said.

“Nice to finally meet you properly, please don’t yell at me again.” You smiled playfully.

Jeno’s eyes widened comically in shock, immediately interrogating Jaemin. Why would Jaemin think it’s okay to yell at someone he doesn't know? Much less one of Jeno’s friends. Jaemin really did try to defend himself, but every time he tried to make a point it just didn’t make sense. He sounded so stupid. “I am so sorry about him.” Jeno apologized, elbowing Jaemin’s rib.

“I’m sorry too, it was inappropriate and rude of me to yell at you.” Jaemin recited. This was not the first time he had had to apologize for yelling at someone in public.

You waved the both of them off, “I was messing around, it’s nice to match a name to a face.”

Jaemin made his way to his room like a scolded child while you and Jeno returned to the screens in front of you, already typing away before the bedroom door even shut. Jaemin made a promise to himself that he would stay in his room until you left. There was no way that he would go out there and risk even more embarrassment in front of you, not just the customer he had a small crush on but the innocent pedestrian he yelled at that very morning. His mind was swirling with regret and thoughts of how badly he had messed up any chance he had with you. He could not go out there and ruin any remaining chance of friendship or even acquaintanceship, or even risk you going to Starbucks every day and never going back to the cafe. Half an hour later he pulled a pillow over his face to muffle his groans, these thoughts were making him crazy, one groan from his throat and a rumble from his stomach. There was no way he could wait until you left now, he had to get food.

Jeno looked up as the door opened, “Right on time, does chicken sound good for dinner?”

Jaemin nodded, ready to turn back and relax on his bed but instead he lingered in his doorway. He ignored the nerves in his stomach and decided that the best decision as a host in his home would be to not leave you alone while Jeno called in the order. Even if he did think you were a little bit of a treacherous snake- from a business standpoint of course.

He cleared his throat, effectively grabbing your attention, “So uh, what are you guys working on?”

“Jeno and I are partners for a project in a communications class so we have to analyze a bunch of sources and then explain why the audience could interpret each source in different ways.” You answered simply with a shrug, as if you had just told him how to make toast.

“Well that’s cool…”

It was now or never. He could talk to you now and clear the air in hopes of perhaps forming a friendship or he could stay quiet and try his best to enjoy the awkward environment. He let out a breathy, nervous laugh, drawing your attention back, “So I think I heard you say I make the, what was it? Oh, the shittiest cup of coffee you’ve ever had.”

Your eyes widened, “No, no, no! I didn’t say that exactly, I did say though, it was the worst coffee I ever had.”

“How badly could I have messed up your order? So badly that you had to go to Starbucks apparently.”

“I had ordered an almond milk caramel latte and received a coffee with not only no milk at all, so it wasn’t even a latte, but also no form of sweetness. On top of that, I had one sip at the beginning of the day that kept me awake and energized until midnight. And! You gave me tea with no tea. Surprisingly though, you are not the worst barista in the cafe.” You responded with a playful roll of your eyes.

Jaemin choked on his spit, “What do you mean? I remember the first day you came in while I was making my coffee… you got my coffee.” He dropped to his knees, “Forgive me, please.”

You threw your head back with a laugh, “Get up, I’ve already forgiven you. Jeno talks about you a lot, so I was actually looking forward to meeting you anyway, even if we did start off on not so great terms.”

“They said about 20 or 30 minutes, you good?” Jeno asked as he reentered the room.

You smiled with a nod, “We’re becoming the best of friends.”

Jaemin blushed, ready to get your attention off of him, “So, you said I don’t carry the title for worst barista.”

“Wait really? Who is it then, best to worst go!” Jeno exclaimed.

“First, is your owner, Johnny, right? Man, he makes a delicious caramel latte, the best I have ever had. Next, I guess would be Ren-”

“Renjun?!” Jeno and Jaemin interrupted.

“Well yeah, he’s super nice and added caramel syrup to the milk I think? Not sure, it was really good, and he added the cutest little drawing on my cup. You guys aren’t last or anything though, Haechan is.” You told them with a shudder.

You all burst out laughing as you recounted the time that Haechan had yelled at you while taking a phone order and ended up sliding a half filled, kids size cup of water across the counter with your name. Another time he was so busy flirting with another customer throughout the whole process of taking and making your order that he had given them your drink too and just given you a pastry instead. Jeno told you guys about a time that Haechan had poured coffee beans on the floor, not once or even twice, but three times in one four hour shift. Jaemin added his own story where Haechan had convinced a handful of customers that they were out of coffee until Johnny came in from the back with a bag of coffee beans.

You all wiped the tears from the corners of your eyes as you tried to catch your breaths from laughing so hard. Jeno sat up when he heard a knock on the door. It was probably the delivery man.

Jaemin looked over at you, a happy smile still on his face. “You know, I would really like it if I could actually make it up to you.”

“Free coffee?” You asked excitedly.

He laughed awkwardly, “Uh no, I uh, um- I think you’re really... cool?”

“This is fucking painful. Jaemin thinks you’re cute and this is his lame attempt at asking you out on a date.” Jeno jumped in, setting the bag of food on the dining table.

You flushed, immediately feeling hot, “I would actually really like that.”

The dinner was clouded with awkwardness, little glances here and there paired with a little conversation. Now that you both knew you at least kind of liked each other, and were interested in one another there was no way he could ruin his chance by saying something embarrassing. All the conversations were basic, surface-level, first day of class icebreaker, boring. What’s your major? What do you want to do with your major? What year are you? How long have you and your best friend since birth lived together?

“Maybe it was better when you hated each other, I can practically feel the tension.” Jeno sighed, reaching his hands forward to “grab” the tension. Maybe Jeno would eat his words when the sparks began flying after the first date, maybe. Yeah, probably.

BONUS

“I’ve had a really good time with you.” Jaemin smiled down at the ground. The blush on his cheeks was hot while your hand in his was warm.

“I’ve had a great time with you too, you really made up for all your little mishaps.” You replied.

Jaemin laughed, “Which reminds me, I have to finally show you that I am in fact the best barista, ever. Would you mind if we stopped by the cafe?”

You shook your head, holding his hand tighter on the walk to the cafe. He held the door open for you and guided you towards an empty seat close to the counter so you could both still talk to one another.

“Welcome! Oh, Jaemin was this your date? I’ve seen you here before right? I’m Johnny, the owner.” Johnny greeted with a smile.

“Nice to meet you too, I love your cafe. Jaemin is making me a replacement drink since he ruined the first couple of drinks. He doesn’t have to, but he practically insisted.”

“And you didn’t call and complain? You must have really liked him.” Johnny laughed.

You couldn’t fight the heat creeping up your neck, so you quickly looked away from the owner standing in front of you to avoid more embarrassment.

“Ah, I’ve never made you this nervous! Here is your iced caramel latte with almond milk.” Jaemin teased as he set the drink in front of you. He looked at you expectantly, awaiting your verdict.

You took a sip, pleasantly surprised with the familiar taste of your favorite drink. “It’s so good! Thank you.”

“Better than Johnny and Renjun?” Jaemin asked.

“Maybe stop the questions while you’re ahead buddy, there’s no way it could be better than mine. Hope to see you soon.” Johnny smirked as you both left.

Jaemin pouted the whole way back to your apartment, you had to reassure him that it was so good that soon he would get sick of seeing your face around the cafe.

He stopped in front of your door, “I don’t think I could ever get sick of your face, so I would really like to take you out again.”

“I would really love that, goodnight Jaemin.” You smiled, pulling him in for a hug before making your way inside.

Jaemin smiled, stepped back from your door and slowly began to make his way home. Walking slowly as his thoughts were filled with date ideas, your face, and just how amazing you truly were. He was so in his head that he didn’t even realize you had come back out to see him again until he felt you tug on his wrist so he could face you.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked breathlessly.

He smiled widely, nodding energetically as he placed a hand on your waist to pull you closer, inviting you to do as you please. Your hands came up to the nape of his neck, nervously playing with his hair before you finally pressed your lips to his own. A short but passionate kiss, it was like your lips were made for one another.

“I’ll see you soon, text me when you get home.” You told him bashfully, holding onto his hand until it eventually fell from the distance between you two. He agreed, locking eyes with you until you were out of his sight and there was no possibility of you ever leaving his mind. Sparks indeed.

#kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop au #kpop reactions #jaemin scenarios #jaemin fic #jaemin imagines #jaemin x reader #jaemin fluff #nct #nct dream #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct au #nct dream au

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thedragonnerd · 3 years

Text

Rayaari headcanon - have some fuzzy (serlot) shapeshifter AU

(inspired by these two lovely anons)

The people of Heart have been enemies with the neighbouring land of Fang as long as Raya can remember. She is taught from a young age never to trust someone from there, that they will forever be dangerous assassins and soldiers. And indeed, of all the Five Lands, Fang is known for having the most formidable warriors, trained to show no mercy - the types of characters that Heart mothers use to frighten their children at night.

'I heard that the Queen even has fangs herself,' a boy tells Raya and her group of friends one day. 'And her daughter is a hideous beast that roams the forests, searching for the flesh of Heart people to feast on.' He prowls around, pretending to be the evil Fang Queen and chasing the girls until Raya trips him in annoyance.

She logically knows this all to be an exaggeration, but as the years go by, she cannot help but picture the people of Fang as villains lurking in the dark, rather than regular human beings.

When Raya turns 18, her Ba sits her down, and passes across a wooden box with an ornate carving on the lid. 'There is something you must now learn, as Princess and heir to this land,' he tells her, and she opens it to find a beautifully engraved anting-anting lying within.

She learns that this is one of three closely-guarded antings that Heart possesses, and only a handful of people know of their existence. Secrecy is paramount; this one now belongs to her to protect and wear around her neck always. 'It is tradition for the royal heir to take up responsibility for a while, and learn the ways of the enemy,' Ba tells her. 'The other two are carried by my most trusted spies.'

The power of the amulet lends itself to spy-work, she discovers. It aids the wearer in shapeshifting, although Raya has several attempts before she can connect to the magic within. The first transformation catches her off-guard, and her Ba laughs at her as she trips over her own paws in surprise.

'We use this to patrol the lands of Fang,' he says, watching as she practices running in her new form. 'And the serlot is a perfect animal for the role - an amazing sense of hearing, and common creatures in the ecosystem. We've been spying for years, and never once been caught.'

Raya undertakes her first mission a month later, once she is more skilled both in shifting and in behaving in an inconspicuous manner. It is a relatively unremarkable outing - she spies on some Palace guards patrolling the walls, but fails to overhear any useful information.

It is not until her fifth mission that an opportunity falls directly into her lap; or, more precisely, shoots itself into her shoulder. She is searching for her next targets to spy on, when an arrow embeds itself into her muscle, and she falls to the ground in pain.

'Don't shoot, don't shoot!' a voice calls out. 'I think you struck a serlot by mistake!' Raya whimpers in pain, and a gentle hand reaches out to pat her head. A woman's face swims into view. Raya can hear the distant noise of people arguing, but as she drifts off into darkness, all she can focus on besides the pain is the soft caress on her fur.

When she wakes up, she finds herself lying on a comfortable blanket in the corner of a spacious and almost empty room, except for a large bed set out in the center. Her wound has been bandaged, although it still hurts considerably when she tries to stand up.

'You shouldn't be moving yet!' someone scolds her, and looking up, the woman from the forest has entered the room, carrying what seems to be a plate of food. Raya eyes the raw meat suspiciously, and the woman laughs. 'Don't be such a princess about your food...you need to eat in order to heal.'

Raya realizes that this is a great opportunity to continue spying, and besides, she won't be able to return to Heart with an injury this serious, at least for a few days.

She realizes after a while that her saviour is none other than Namaari, Princess of Fang herself. The enemy's daughter is not some horrible creature in the dark, but rather a young woman who seems to have a large capacity for love towards all things serlot, an impressive level of first aid knowledge, and a habit of talking out loud to Raya constantly, whenever she returns to her room.

Over the following few days, Raya becomes used to hearing Namaari rant about frustrating duties, or people who have annoyed her, or even once or twice her own mother. Raya starts to feel slightly guilty about spying on her, despite them being from opposing lands.

To her horror, the 'princess' nickname bestowed by Namaari sticks, and now she finds herself responding with a small purr whenever Namaari calls her such a ridiculous name. She comforts herself with the thought that surely purring is merely serlot instinct.

Namaari also loves to pet her ears often, and Raya resigns herself to having gentle scratches on her head (she will never admit to enjoying it). One time, Namaari is so exhausted from her day of work, that she sits next to Raya on the floor and promptly falls asleep, toppling slowly downwards until her cheek is resting on Raya's side, her breaths ruffling the fur on each exhale.

Raya decides eventually that she cannot betray Namaari's trust, not after all that the woman has done to help her. Her leg is much improved, with Namaari talking about letting her roam outside in the morning, and so as soon as first light rises, she slips out of the room, racing out of the palace before any of the guards notice her.

When she arrives back in Heart, Ba asks her what she learned. 'I learned that they are simply humans like the rest of us,' she says. 'And some of them are good people.' He nods as if in satisfaction, and together, they come up with a different vision for the future.

It takes them several months of negotiations and correspondence sent back and forth, but eventually Fang and Heart agree to meet on a diplomatic mission, in order to discuss a way to bring peace to both lands.

When the Fang delegation arrives, Queen Virana leads the way, and following her is Namaari. 'Hi,' says Raya, for the first time. 'I'm Raya.'

(Raya doesn't admit she was the serlot until many months later, fearful of damaging the growing trust and friendship between them. Namaari is more embarrassed than anything however, considering the topics of some of her rants.)

(Namaari switches back to calling her princess as a nickname though.)

#rayaari #raya and namaari #raya and the last dragon #ratld #raya #namaari #rayaari headcanon #raymaari #i know most of the fandom has been picturing namaari as the cat queen these last few days #but this way we get Namaari petting a Raya serlot #which is also a cute vision #all the headcanooons

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mythicamagic · 3 years

Text

Yang x MC Oneshot: The Red Crane

Summary: The Lao Shu mafia boss is looking for a certain woman- his woman- to be exact. (Not as AU as you might think) Yang x Liliana oneshot.

Rated M for smut

3,000 words

AN: Part of this was originally a rp between me and my friend LadyDiana2000, but I've reworked and extended it into a oneshot. As always you can read this on Ao3 or fanfiction.net via the same username.

Warning: Smut, and the usual themes found in Yang's route aka references to human trafficking.

The Red Crane

The State-Operated Casino in Burlone had been deemed 'neutral ground' for the three deadly mafia families constantly engaged in turf wars. The Falzones barely indulged there due to its leader's distaste, but it was frequently visited by the Visconti and Lao Shu alike, along with regular citizens.

Of course, due to its popularity, copycats popped up everywhere in different territories. Many tried to capture its feel and opulence, but few succeeded.

One such unsavoury copycat lurked in the innermost depths of Lao Shu territory, behind far too many back allies to ever be relevant; The White Crane.

A little tidbit the locals didn't know- or frankly didn't care about- was that its female staff had been provided through underhanded means. Human trafficking valued foreign girls highest, so it was only natural the casino house exotic looking women.

The gambling room was located underground in a transformed basement, drunk men observing the girls. Some were on a cramped stage as entertainment, others waitressing. This newest batch had arrived together, and after a few failed escape attempts and punishments- they'd been shaken enough to be potentially wonderful gifts or products to sell on.

Liliana had never intended to get mixed up with mafia men or human trafficking. One second she'd been enjoying Italy's fine streets, heading towards down an alley- the next…

She shuddered, wiping down a table. Rough hands had grabbed her, snatching her away. She seemed to have been a spur-of-the-moment kidnapping.

Escape proved futile from the seedy casino. Guards were posted outside, and though unsteady with too much liquor in their system, they always overpowered her.

Green eyes dimmed, hazed by the thick smog of cigar smoke.

She'd been fortunate enough to avoid the territory's overabundant drug use, but that could easily change.

I miss you, Elena, Sister Sophia. I hope the children are alright.

It felt like such a long amount of time had passed since she'd seen them- since she'd last glimpsed decent sunlight not smeared by grimy glass.

Glancing at a kiseru pipe held within an older gentleman's hand, she shook herself, continuing with the day's chores.

Have I been forgotten?

----

It's after hours and early in the morning when the owner unexpectedly asked the girls to stay. Usually they'd go to sleep after tidying up. He smiled, standing within the empty casino room. "The time has come for one of you to leave the nest, little songbirds."

The girls shifted anxiously, having sat down in a section of old chaises and lounges. "What does that mean?" one asked.

"Surely you've wondered why you were all brought in here at the same time? Staff are kept in rotation, you see. We need new faces every few months or so. It's just good business. Eventually all of you will be bought or gifted. In this case, one of you will be a gift to the Lao Shu mafia. I hear their leader is without a woman right now."

The door to the basement swung open soundlessly- a man leisurely wandering down white steps.

Liliana stiffened, becoming still as a statue.

"Ah- signore Yang. I didn't think you'd be here so early."

"Mn," a man wearing a fine green changshan ignored the owner, gaze half-lidded. He lowered himself into a seat facing the cluster of women, taking out an ornate pipe and lighting it. Long red hair spilt from broad shoulders- some strands having been tied into a sloppy braid. Liliana's fingers twitched, experiencing an urge to fix it.

"From the looks on their faces, I assume they know the situation," he drawled, flashing his teeth in a mockery of a smile, golden eyes icy cold. As the leader of the Chinese mafia based in Burlone, people knew his name, but he wasn't widely known to the public eye.

"That's the boss of the Lao Shu?" a girl, Victoria, leaned in close to Liliana.

"Yes- but I'm not sure why he'd come here himself," she whispered back, hands drawing into loose fists on her dusty skirts.

Yang watched them watch him, taking a drag from his pipe and exhaling a cloud of curling smoke. "There's not much atmosphere here tonight... give them alcohol if they want it, they look foolish sitting there empty-handed," he addressed the owner.

He nodded, "Chie, would you-"

"No," Yang cut in. "They're busy with me right now. You take their orders. Nothing too expensive, mind."

Miraculously, the owner nodded with the briefest flash of fear, clearly not wanting to displease him.

Some of the girls ordered, though Liliana declined softly, wanting her mind unclouded.

"We'd probably look less foolish if we knew what you wanted," she spoke up, thankful her voice didn't shake. "We were just told something about being 'gifted' a moment before you came in, sir."

"I see."

He'd been collected since the moment he'd walked in, but his eyes unexpectedly burned the second they locked onto her, stealing Liliana's breath. Twin hooks glinted- secured at his hip. "Well, the weaselly owner of this cesspool is going to gift one of you to me," he spoke in a rich cadence, lifting a shoulder lazily. "I'm sure he intends for me to pick at random but I'm not particularly interested in that. If you want to come with me, then speak up," he uttered, accepting a glass of red wine without acknowledging the owner.

"Get on with it, then," one of the more jaded women sneered.

Yang's eyes slide to her. He gazed silently, with such deep, cold apathy.

Like a hawk assessing prey, Liliana stilled. Those tiger-like, vibrant eyes slid shut as he smiled indulgently, "I'm going to tell you now, I cannot abide those who refuse to understand anything. For example...the position they're in," he shot the woman a deadly smirk.

He took a sip, tilting his head consideringly. "You could entertain my men and be passed around, or become my woman, and everything that encompasses."

The implication is startling. Mafia had prostitutes, but he was offering something usually reserved for girlfriends.

This grabbed the attention of many of the girls, though Liliana reddened and glanced away. "Is this a conscious choice?" Amira asks. "Do we say- Yes, I want to be your woman, and that's that? Or are there hurdles you expect us to jump through first, only to be prostituted?"

"No hurdles. That's that," he mimicked, lips curving sharply. "Mn... but it would be unfair not to warn you of my nature. I get bored easily," he drawled. "If you abandon any effort to think for yourself, if you tell me 'I don't know anything' or 'tell me everything'... I will assume your brain is mere decoration. You will become worth less than nothing to me."

"And if that happens, you won't let us go," Liliana murmured, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. She wondered how long this farce would last for, lips thinning.

Yang hummed, expression unreadable as he squinted. "You're skinny," he observed bluntly.

Heat abruptly burst to her cheeks, "I like to share my meals with other people if they ask for seconds!" she felt the need to defend.

"And you went hungry instead? What a soft mindset," he gave a mocking smirk as though unable to comprehend the notion. "I'll feed you, plenty."

The way he said it sounded strangely inappropriate, and she swiftly dropped her gaze, exhaling shakily. His aura was intense- attention feeling heavy. Her thighs pressed together.

Yang took another drag of his kiseru, seeming to enjoy himself. He suddenly noticed something, motioning to Lucrecia. "Woman. Come here a moment."

Lucrecia paled but dutifully stood, padding over with visible trepidation on her face. "Yes?"

His pipe lifted, propping up the ribbon on her shoulder, gazing at it. Golden eyes gleamed. "Are you Hui's plaything?"

She swallowed, stuttering. "I... I don't think so? I just attend to his drinks and food orders," she explained. "The ribbon is something he tied onto me- so that he could monopolise my time."

It wasn't the complete truth, Hui had propositioned her many times. Lili stiffened, gripped by something that heated her blood.

Yang hummed, drawing closer to invade her personal space. "That so?" he purred, voice dropping. "Because if you were Lee's woman, I'd take you just to piss him off," he flashed a sharp-toothed grin.

"Let her go," Liliana burst, standing from her seat. Silence filled the room immediately, her heart hammering loudly in her ribcage.

Ah...

Searing, half-lidded eyes pinned her in place, dragging sensually down her form. Sweat beaded on her brow.

"Are you going to wait around all night or will you finally voice your desire to come with me?" a silky chuckle caressed her hearing, Yang's amusement palpable.

Liliana bristled, biting her lip. Lucrecia's distressed features were enough to draw her forward. "I'm not interested in being your pawn, but yes. I would like to leave this place. Please stop toying with Lucrecia needlessly."

Releasing her friend without another word- a tattooed hand darted out.

Squeaking, Liliana felt herself be tugged down roughly. Prying her eyes open, she shifted on his lap, an iron grip holding her around the waist. Sturdy thighs cushioned her legs- his chest solid with muscle despite his tapered waist.

She opened her mouth to say more- before a mouth pressed to hers. He forced a deep, long kiss against startled lips- tongue brushing against hers, swallowing her muffled noises.

Blushing hotly, Lili tried to ignore their audience, pressing her palms against his chest and shoving to no avail. She couldn't help but return the kiss, stifling less than innocent noises.

Yang chuckled and nipped her bottom lip, scraping sharp teeth over soft flesh while pulling away. "Women usually pretend to be completely enamoured by me," he whispered playfully. "But your glaring eyes aren't unattractive."

"I'm sure you'll receive plenty of glares from me in due course," she panted, cheeks stained red. Green eyes flashed and narrowed, shakily wiping her mouth.

A slow, pleased smile curved his lips, directing his attention to the waiting owner. "I think this one will prove entertaining," he stood.

"Oh! I'm glad!" the man bowed. "Please accept this humble offering. We hope it demonstrates our loyalty to the Lao Shu."

"There's just one thing," Yang sighed with dismay, grasping the hilt of one of his weapons. He lifted it, resting the curve of the hook beneath Lili's chin, metal cool on her skin. Green eyes remained calm, gazing at him quietly.

Yang almost seemed to gentle- just for a moment- before continuing with a playful lift to his voice. "If you're so loyal to us- I assume you didn't mean to steal something that belonged to me."

"W-what?"

A disappointed look crossed Yang's cruel, handsome features. He tilted his head, earring catching the lamplight. "Now that is a pity. I half hoped you'd had the balls to do it on purpose. Never mind," his palm planted against Liliana's back- shoving.

"Wait outside."

Gaping, Liliana stumbled forward. Shooting the girls a worried look, she tried to convey her fear for them, fluttering her hand slightly.

Please get down. Duck for safety. Escape!

Some of them seemed confused, while others caught on, becoming tense.

Hitching blue skirts up and taking the stairs two at a time, Liliana hurried, flinching at a brilliant blaze of colour and light.

She glanced back just once- witnessing Yang swing his hooks down- cleaving through muscle, sinew and bone like butter. Women cried out with horror as the owner collapsed, choking on his own blood.

Fresh air caught in her throat, and Liliana breathed in greedily, lungs protesting as she kept moving.

Multiple swaths of pinks, purples and reds painted the skies, sunset a burning hue on the horizon beyond tiled roofs.

It felt so good to be above ground.

The second she'd managed to race out onto the streets- the guards caught wind of the horror downstairs, drawing their guns and descending into the basement.

Liliana steadied herself against a wall in an alley, hearing rapid gunfire.

Pressing a hand to her mouth, salty tears of relief and worry for her companions welled up. They slid down rosy cheeks, eyes squeezing shut.

She could've run. Seized the opportunity to flee due to the chaos downstairs. Return to the church.

But she knew he'd pursue her.

Hearing footsteps draw closer over cobbled ground, Liliana sobbed, vision blurry as she looked up. But...that wasn't quite the truth. A part of her didn't want to leave this person either.

Yang lowered his bloodied weapon off one shoulder, crimson staining his clothes. Not one injury marred him, as per the norm.

"T-the girls," she managed to choke out.

"It appears they made it out alive," he drawled uncaringly, stepping closer.

"You didn't have to play around like that," she hiccuped, glaring. "Pretending not to know me..."

"Since you're partly to blame for causing my boredom over the past few weeks, a little roleplaying isn't much punishment."

Lili opened her mouth to reply- only to feel hands grab her head, a mouth slanting over hers. The clang of metal bouncing against stone indicated he'd dropped his hook. Shuddering, Liliana pressed herself against him, gasping against his lips and feeling a fresh wave of tears overcome her.

Yang backed her into a wall, body caging her against it, drawing hungry lips down to her neck to place open-mouthed kisses there- biting down.

Jolting, Liliana mewled, gripping him tight. "Y-Yang," she wanted him closer, burying her face in his shoulder.

"I tore Veleno apart looking for you," he hissed in her ear, nipping it. "And some of the other territories. I wondered if the Falzones had finally stolen their precious maiden back- but no. The piss-poor, fucking White Crane 'casino' was holding you. It's precious, really."

Though he smiled jaggedly, Lili could feel his temper spike, coiling tense muscles tighter. His blood-lust hadn't been sated.

She endeavoured to sway it into a different kind of lust.

"I thought..." she mumbled, kissing his chin. "I thought you might've forgotten me."

His tongue ran over the shell of her ear, hands roaming. "Obviously getting kidnapped has hindered your intelligence. I don't let go of my things," he smirked. "Especially not a woman who can glare like a cat. Besides- you returned to me willingly, Lili," fingers marked with intricate tattoos glided over her hip. "You chose to be my woman in there. It's too late to pretend otherwise~"

Her shoulders dropped with relief. Stroking a hand through soft, brilliant red hair, she breathed in his spicy, masculine scent. Her hips bucked of their own accord, a sigh fell from her lips, feeling him grind against her in return.

"Yang-" she breathed, tugging at his hair as he sucked on her collarbone, hand worming between them. "Not here-" a noise escaped her throat, shuddering.

Tattooed fingers pressed and glided against her clit, hidden beneath layers of skirts.

Lifting herself from the haze of pleasure they elicited, Liliana pushed against his chest insistently. With a hiss, Yang ripped his hand away and grabbed her around the waist, retrieving his weapon before leaving the alley.

They didn't make it to the Lao Shu base.

Stumbling as far as the dimly lit docks, Yang tugged her beneath the harsh shade of a boardwalk. The tide was out, allowing Liliana to fall back, cushioned by cool sands.

He gripped her stockings and yanked- ripping a large seam over her sex to allow access. Liliana opened her arms- cradling him close as Yang sank inside her without fanfare or preparation. Lili gasped, wet enough- but needing to adjust to his size once more.

"Did anyone else touch you?" he breathed, eyes half-lidded yet blazing with liquid heat.

"No- no one."

"Good," their breaths intermingled. "Otherwise I'd regret killing them so quickly."

He tugged her dress down just enough to expose a breast, firm grip squeezing it roughly. The way Yang's pupils dilated with every shaky moan she gave made her want to drown him in screams. Liliana clutched at broad shoulders in a death grip as he began moving, rolling lean hips with quick, hard movements.

She hitched her leg, throwing it over his waist- back arching as nails scraped her thigh. His free hand settled at the base of her throat, squeezing slightly.

"I think you owe me an apology," he purred.

"Pardon?- ah!"

Yang gave a rough thrust- cock hitting a spot deep inside that had her choking on a gasp while he simultaneously gave another squeeze. "You know why."

Blunt teeth grit, breath wheezing as he controlled her oxygen flow, cunt clenching hard around him in response. "I'm...sorry, for leaving Lan and Fei," she panted. "I just wanted to quickly check on Luca in town- gn!"

She keened loudly as his other hand played with her sensitive nipple, and threw her head back as Yang began to kiss down her jaw.

"That's a good girl," cold fire brightened his gaze. "Apology- hah- accepted. You were probably sharing food again, hm? That's just like you."

He kissed her hard, using his grip to keep her in place as she shivered with a broken moan. He tasted sweet, rich and decadent and she needed more, opening her mouth just enough for him to force his tongue in.

Yang moved more fluidly, hips undulating against hers with deep, deliberate thrusts. Lili marvelled at his frankly dishevelled look. They never broke eye-contact, bodies plastered together as they made harsh marks into the sand.

They both breathed heavily, the air between them hazy. Lili felt herself getting close, squeezing around him like a vice.

"Liliana," Yang caressed the syllables of her name like a hushed, sinful word. He knew it affected her, and wielded it like any other weapon. "Grip me harder, Liliana. Don't you want me to feel it when you experience rapture?"

Whining, she found purchase on the nape of his neck- digging blunt nails in and dragging them down, feeling him gasp, hips spasming- knocking her own release out of her like a thunderclap.

"Yang!"

He grunted, choking on a dark laugh as he came, releasing inside her. He abandoned her neck in favour of gripping blonde hair- tugging it to yank her head back- a bruising kiss pressing against rosy, open lips.

"Never a dull moment, hm?" Yang chuckled breathlessly, eyes dancing.

Laying in a daze, Liliana could barely formulate words, feeling him pool inside her- their combined juices leaking down her thighs as he pulled out. She knew she'd just traded one cage for another. That this person- this murderer- was just as dark and terrible as the men who had kidnapped her.

And yet, whether it existed or not- Lili imagined she could see it. A fondness in his cruel gaze. She wanted to be kept by him. It didn't make logical sense, but she felt it didn't need to. Yang was a being of impulse, instinct and indulgence. The more he touched her, the more Liliana sank down into the depths of where he resided.

Red cheeks flushed a darker shade of rouge. God forgive me, but I think I'm in danger of loving this awful man.

With a sharp grin, Yang abruptly flipped her over onto her hands and knees, ripping skirts aside and raising her ass- entering her from behind.

"Ah-! A-again? So soon?" she squeaked, moaning.

"What are you talking about? Playtime usually runs into a few sessions," a velvety chuckle resounded in her ear. "Now spread yourself wide, Lili. I want to feel your lungs compress as I hammer into you from behind. That sounds entertaining, doesn't it?"

Lili squeezed her eyes shut, heart thudding wildly. Trembling knees shifted in the sand, dragging apart.

Yes, it does.

#Piofiore no Banshou #yang piofiore #piofiore fated memories #Piofiore #piofiore fanfiction #yang

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heroprose · 4 years

Text

aromatic;

a/n. forewarning for the usual vampiric shenanigans.

ship. hitoshi shinou x reader

summary. contemporary vampire au. (+ slight office au)

hitoshi shinsou despises you, you’re certain of this.

what you’re not quite sure of is where all the animosity stemmed from, especially since he seemed to conduct himself well enough with everyone else.

out of all your fellow colleagues, he treated you with the most transparent curtness, from promptly exiting whenever you entered the breakroom for a refreshment, to visibly retching the one time you tried to take an empty seat next to him during a conference (you’ll never forgive him for that slight).

it was really starting to grate on you. you were going to have to confront him about this yourself.

besides, you’ve no longer a choice in the matter: this unspoken tension had begun to affect the workplace, with people sometimes looking to and fro between you and him, confused to high hell why he always kept himself a good several meters away from you if he could-- not that you were complaining. social distancing can be quite mutually beneficial, after all.

and it wasn’t an issue you’d like to bring up with human resources either: that seemed a little too petty, even if he was literally gagging at your presence.

you did try to ameliorate the work relationship-- really, you did. but there’s only so many times you can crack a joke and be left hanging in that awkward silence before you stop altogether. you once thought it’d been something you said in poor taste that made him abhor you so, but unless he had a seething hatred for mild puns, that didn’t seem right.

and so what that you were a newer addition to the team-- you’d entertained the idea that maybe he had a thing against strangers, but hell, it’s been months and even interns get more conversation out of him than you.

although given his visceral reactions, you’re inclined to think it’s something about how you smell... but that’s just insane. you took your daily showers and used reasonable amounts of detergent in your laundry; and if you can take the pungency of axe body spray and the zestiness of dior’s sauvage on every man in the building, then he should be able to tolerate your own signature scent, which wasn’t even that bad... was it?

no one else complained about it though. and you’ve even asked around too, so you know you’re not wearing absolute funk. it’s an unfathomable situation.

today, however, you forewent the perfume. if it really was the fragrance, then this should leave no opening. you’ve tucked the bottle in your workbag instead, in case you needed it like a piece of evidence for his rude behavior, ace attorney style.

you waited until lunch break, where most of the other colleagues would leave the building for nearby restaurants or go to the cafeteria, before approaching him. it was best this way, lest it got weird; at least only few people would witness it.

hitoshi was currently invested in whatever it was on his computer, and if you were correct in his observations, he would pull out his own homemade meal shortly enough to eat at his desk. some days, he didn’t eat at all, which was surely unhealthy but you were hardly in the position to scold him considering your own bad habits. plus you didn’t want him to hate you even deeper.

you got to observe this routine over a good number of weeks and it was truly no easy feat, with his desk set in the far corner of the workplace far from the wall-length windows and him being constantly out and about on his own assignments.

with your workbag in one hand, you walk up to him with as much nonchalance as you could muster. “hey! not going down to the cafe today?” it’s rhetorical: you knew he wasn’t.

he hardly responds, eyes flickering up at you briefly and giving a greeting nod before returning to his work. “mm.”

you round the corner of the desk so that you stand beside him. leaning down slightly to squint at the screen, you deliberately put yourself in his space. “oh wow, the deadline’s so far away but you’re already working on this part?”

he began to open his mouth, only to clap a hand over it with remarkable speed. and he coughs, goodness, with shoulders jumping.

“oh my god,” you can’t help but say as you withdraw. could he smell it even from your bag? you weren’t even sure if it was the perfume or just you anymore. “okay, i’ll cut to the chase. can we talk? alone?”

you’d think he would think it over, at the very least, to give a semblance of polite reflection. “no,” is his immediate reply, spoken forcefully, so forcefully that a lone passing colleague even gives you two a glance.

“i was, uh, just leaving,” they say. “want anything?”

“i’m good, thanks,” you reply, bidding them farewell with a breezy smile before refocusing on hitoshi. he has already turned away from you, eyes blazing at the computer screen.

without another word, you reach over, placing a hand over his, and drag his mouse to click out of his report.

“what do you think you’re doing?” hitoshi demands, jerking away from your touch. and he’s angry now, genuinely irritated: you can see it in the way his jaw tightens. too bad you’ve been annoyed ever since you’ve been moved to this department.

“it was google docs, relax. your work is saved,” you soothe over. “now come with me. i just want to talk to you for five minutes, tops. please.”

he’s deeply conflicted for a heartbeat, but finally relents. “five minutes,” he echoes. you give him the space to stand up, clutching your workbag strap tightly in your fist. if he knew what this was about, he gave no mention as he walked openhanded behind you.

hastily, you lead him to the breakroom. with its doorless entrance, you assumed that the ventilation there would be moderately good, if it got too stuffy for him. then again, you wouldn’t of minded if he suffocated a bit either. admittedly, the entire floor was probably empty save for you two, so this dialogue could’ve been held out in the open but it didn’t hurt to have that extra layer of seclusion.

“i already know,” you say into the quietude, leaning against the counter. behind you, the coffee machine beeped every so often. someone should get that fixed. you cross your arms and look at him carefully. the vents are tinny above you two, warm air rushing out noisily.

“you-- what?” his dark eyes widen ever so slightly, and for once, his expression isn’t quite so tense with you. “what do you know?” he must’ve not expected you to be so direct. he takes his hand out of his pocket.

“you know what i’m talking about. why you treat me like, i don’t know, the plague?”

“i don’t do that.”

“you nearly threw up when you saw me.”

hitoshi stays silent. ha, gotcha! “i only coughed,” he relents eventually.

“whatever. and i know it’s not me and that it’s really all you because guess what? no one else has this problem. and i’m thinking you don’t want me to air out your business to everyone else because that would be...” weird, for one, but you didn’t want to ruin your own case. “doesn’t matter; in any case, there’s no reason to be rude over this.”

“alright. so you know. i avoid you because of your scent.” his voice is dangerously calm. “what are you going to do about me, then?”

“about you?” you repeat with a scoff, “oh, so i should report you? what would i even say? HR would laugh at me.”

he smirks, chin jutting out. “right.”

“so now i only have one question. wait, make that two.”

“go on.”

“how should we fix this? because obviously i don’t want our little dance to start affecting our work ethic. you can’t wave me away forever. it’s how i smell, right? do you have a recommended detergent or deodorant, or something?” you ignore the fact that you’ve technically asked three questions.

“none of that covers it,” he mutters and your jaw drops. “masks don’t help either.”

“no way. i smell that b-- you know what... moving on. we’ve got to compromise somewhere though. but not my perfume.” your hands reflexively ball up. there’s no camera, so if you did something unsavory, there equally wouldn’t be any real witnesses...

“your perfume,” he repeats, seemingly dissatisfied.

“yeah, no way. that’s my signature scent. go wear nose plugs or something, if it’s that bad. and i can’t believe you say scent and not body odor, like just call it what it is! damn.”

the coffee machine lets out its intermittent beeps. hitoshi just stares at you, mystified. then, he breaks into a snort, like he’s the one who can’t believe he’s having this discussion. “i understand. in that case, i see no solution.” whilst bringing a hand to the back of his neck, he starts to move, intent on passing you to exit the room.

you let out a frustrated noise. “you leave me no choice, hitoshi.”

intending on presently the bottle to him proudly, perhaps even spritzing him once for good measure, you jam your hand into your workbag to fish your perfume out. you grab onto the rectangular shaped glass, and pull it out with great gusto.

and it goes terribly.

to your horror, the bottle slips like butter between your fingers and sails, tumbling down to the floor right in front of you with a heartrending crash, glass splintering like ice. the beautiful blue lid goes spinning across the tiles, and like that, the whole room now blooms a gorgeous citrus, white floral scent. “oh nooooooo! shit!”

no longer minding him, you go to pick up the shards, bending down at the knees with a sigh. gingerly, you begin to clean up.

“hey, be careful. i’ll get a dustpan,” you hear him say and it’s one of the nicest things he’s ever said to you, but in your melancholy, you shake your head solemnly.

“no, no, i’ve got this. i’m just so-- OWW?” you wail without warning. you drop the wet shard you were grasping, still slick with liquid. “ugh, never mind. get the dustpan.” you bring yourself up on your feet again.

using your shoe, you kick the shards into a more cohesive, but wet pile. the clattering of the glass causes you some emotional pain. “terrific,” you mutter, watching blood bead up at across two of your fingertips. “well, at least i won’t be wearing that anymore. right, hitoshi?” you ask sarcastically. shaking your hand to rid it of perfume residue, you end up just flecking your blood droplets all over the floor. you glance up when you’re met with silence. “hitoshi?”

“nnngh...” a low, deep groan escapes his throat, and immediately he turns his cheek and takes several stumbling steps away. he grits his teeth, the vein in his neck growing more prominent like it’s physically paining him to pull apart from you. “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me...”

“you okay?” you close in on him. it felt almost backwards to ask such a query, seeing as you were the one bleeding. “maybe you should sit d--”

“get away from me,” he all but spits out, eyes squeezed shut. “you set this up, huh? figures.” stray hairs were falling into his face as he presses a hand against his temple and bit back another groan. “i was doing just fine before... so why... nngh.”

you purse your lips. “hey! what do you have against dolce & gabbana’s light blue eau de toilette? it’s a perfectly respectable, fresh, work-friendly fragrance! it was, at least!” you wanted to shout. but that didn’t happen, as your concern and confusion won over your sense of petulance. “set what up?” you ask, bewildered.

on closer inspection, he was not, in fact, okay at all.

for a second, you thought he was having an allergic reaction. that would certainly explain his avoidance of your body, and perhaps why even a deep black had replaced the cool purple in his irises when his eyes snap open to glare. his pupils were blown out despite the bright tube lighting overhead, and his mouth parts wide.

yet an allergy did not explain everything. as opposed to weak, however, hitoshi suddenly looked frightening.

because, instead, what came out of your mouth was a strangled, “uh, what the-- are those fangs?”

and indeed they were, confirmed as they descended upon your skin before you could even blink. at the very least, he had the decency to pant out a small but distinctively unapologetic “sorry” before his lips pressed around your bleeding fingers, tongue hot against the stinging cuts.

you hope fervently your coworkers take their leisure at lunch.

#shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #why do yall still follow me wtf anyway here u go #tbf maybe shinsou prefers chanel no 5 #i think i wanted this to be more twilight adjacent but i dont know what happened

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mae-gi-writes · 4 years

Text

Plus One | Kevin Moon (Around The World Collab)

When your boyfriend of eight years suddenly decides to break up with you right before your destined trip for your cousin’s wedding, nothing can cure your broken heart. In a desperate attempt to make you feel better, Kevin states that he will be your plus one.

Genre: little angst, fluff, friends to lovers.

This fic is part of a collab “Around The World”, featuring different countries x the boyz members. I had the utmost pleasure of working with such an amazing group of talented writers for this project, so please don’t forget to check out their works too! ^^ <3

This fic is takes place on Mauritius Island.

Word count: 9k IZ A LONG ONE SO BUCKLE UP BUTTERCUPS

Tagging: @aniyawoos @chaoticdeobi @moondustaeil @juyeonzz @atbzkingdom @2hyunjae @jopping-to-my-kpop @jeongsinkookie @ihearttbz @heartyyjeno @bahnmi07 @sadlandia @itsquxxn

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Eight years, gone just like that.

I stare at a spot on my navy blue suitcase, not really focused on what’s before me and more concerned about the memories flickering past my lids. I can’t help it. Everytime I see luggage, it makes me think of the way I kicked him out of my life. Everytime, a slab of pain will grab my heart between its icy fingers and squeeze it so that I can barely breathe. Everytime, until I feel like I’m drowning inside dark waters without the real desire to swim to the surface.

My psychiatrist told me that it had been for the better. That it had been an obsessive, unhealthy kind of love in the first place. But was it better now that I couldn’t even feel my heart in the hollow space where it’s supposed to be?

“Y/N.”

Still, I remember the messages on his phone, the way his touch would feel strange, eerily hollow for some reason, the way he’d avoid my eyes whenever he’d tell me that he was going out with the guys. I remember smelling his coat and recoiling at the cheap scent of perfume clinging to it like second skin, how he’d constantly tell me how wonderful I was-- too wonderful for him -- and that I should find better, that I didn’t deserve someone like him.

And then, when I’d stumbled into our flat a little earlier than I was meant to -- since my gym class had been cancelled -- and took note of the trail of shoes, followed by a coat, a shirt, a thong, before my ears picked up on the noises echoing from the bedroom doors…

“Y/N?”

His face when he spotted me, the astounded expression like a dog that had just been caught sneaking into the pantry. And the girl, a prettier woman, a curvy woman, with red lips and with those beautifully deep red wine locks tumbling down her back with the perfect physique that could make any man drool. That girl, who was none other than one of my good friends at work and who had spent most part of the year listening to my rants about him.

“Y/N!”

“Huh?” My head whips up when I register my name being called out, looking up to see a raven-haired, petite-faced man leaning against the bedroom doorway with raised brows and a concerned expression on his face.

“Oh, you’re here,” I say, as he crosses the doorway and sits beside me. The bed dips down under his weight as he tilts his head in that knowing manner of his, “daydreaming again?”

“No,” I mumble, but he sees right through my facade and with a sigh, his arms wrap around my shoulder before pillowing his head against my shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs as I allow myself to lean back against him, against his comfort. His lavender scent wraps around me, a little bed of comfort amidst all the pain.

“I can’t stop thinking about him,” I murmur, tears stinging the corner of my eyes, “it hurts, Kev.”

He only holds me a little closer, a little tighter.

If there is one person that I can trust more than myself, it’s Kevin Moon. I’ve known Kevin ever since high school, having hung out in the same friend group until we had become partners for an art project. It was only then that we’d become closer, and had been close ever since. With his angular features and almond mono lidded eyes and thin lips that were constantly shaped in a pout, the Korean-born man had moved to Canada when he was young, just like I had a few years ago. He had kept me afloat during my university days, I had comforted him through his first break up. He had been present during my final Fine Arts Photography Exhibition, I was up all night coming up with re-branding concepts for his design project. Overall, Kevin had pretty much been a constant in my life, you get the gist of it.

When he found out that my boyfriend had cheated just a few days before our destined trip to attend my cousin’s wedding -- mind you, I had been sobbing waterfalls and it was a miracle he even understood me through my blubbering mess -- he had half a mind to storm up to the guy and rip his throat out. But he did the most surprising thing; booked a ticket for himself and turned up at my flat on the eve of the departure, stating that he was going to accompany me to that wedding, whether I liked it or not.

My cousin, Emma, was getting married right where home was: Mauritius. The memories I once had of the small island nestled right in the Indian Ocean on the right of Madagascar, was of my grandma’s comforting food, the sea scented air that washed along with the too-white sandy beaches, the multitudes of merchants selling all kinds of fresh fruits and vegetables on the side of the road, and small corner stores that looked like they had come out of a 1960’s movie. People liked to claim that Mauritius was paradise on earth, and in a way, it is.

“Come on,” Kevin had nagged when I shook my head adamantly. He’d wriggled his plane ticket before my nose, “you’re not going to let that loser spoil such a happy event are you? Emma’s waiting for you!”

In the end, he’d won. Which is why we are here, staying at my cousin, Emma’s, apartment in a village called Moka, located at the foot of a mountain and has an abundance of forestry adorning the sides of the road. It's chilly here, in comparison to the harbourfront, and constantly smells like fresh rain and has a gentle fresh breeze blowing through.

“You know, assholes like him are not worth thinking about,” Kevin says now, his arm a gentle soothing caress up and down my back, “your brain might rot.”

I can’t help but let out a soft, choked up laugh.

“It’s our first day here, let’s not ruin it by thinking about him, hm?” Kevin continues soothingly and I nod in agreement. He’s right. I’m just wasting time by reliving memories that I should be banishing from my mind.

“Okay!” he brightens up then, “where shall we go? The sea? The market? Or do you want to go eat?!”

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

The first few days are about meeting up with family and rediscovering Mauritius for what it is. Emma gives me a full-fledged hug the moment I open the door to her house, pressing me close to her with such motherly warmth that it takes everything in me not to break down right then and there. I greet my uncles and engage in small-talk with my aunts, help my grandma out in the kitchen as she continuously asks me why I’ve gotten so thin. While I know the main reason, I decide to smile and spare her the details, as embarrassing as it is.

No one mentions him, until one of my uncles slips during a conversation with Kevin, “so you’re Y/N’s boyfriend. Such a pleasure to meet you! We’ve heard so much about you that we started thinking she was just making things up.”

“Er--” Kevin reddens, “I--”

“So how did you two meet?”

It is at this very instant that my mouth decides to move on its own and I blurt out, “we’re high school friends.”

“Oh highschool sweethearts! How cute!”

Kevin doesn’t fail to mention what a mistake I’ve made to lie to my entire family to save face.

“I feel guilty,” he says as we walk out to the car, keys dangling from my wrist.

I unlock the car, “it’s fine. We’ll be in and out before they know it. They don’t have to know anything.”

“Hm, sure.”

After some well-deserved family time, Kevin and I decide to head to the west of the island to catch the sunset, my camera stuffed neatly in the backseat, where Kevin has tossed a few spare towels just in case. We each have donned our swimsuits for the occasion and it doesn’t take an expert to see the excitement thrumming through Kevin’s veins as he sits beside me like an excited child in the passenger seat.

“I never realized that you guys drive on the left side of the road,” he comments, head whipping back and forth in-between the passage of cars.

“Yeah, it takes some getting used to, especially if you’re crossing,” it is then that I notice that there is a newly built mall as we turn left at the green light, “hey, that’s new. I’ve never seen this before.”

“Cas-ca-velle,” he mumbles out with that strong accent of his. He is definitely not one to know French and I’ve been acting as his translator all along, considering that my family speaks French at home, “what does that mean?”

“Beats me. It’s just a fancy name for a new shopping mall,” I peer into its parking lot, “wanna visit?”

“Whatever floats your boat, honey. I’m all in.”

The mall is longer than it is wide, with white archways decked with wooden-style roofs that give way to an open-plan exterior. A wide beige cemented pathway occupies the space, with shops lined on either side.

“I never realized, but you guys are very multicultural,” comments Kevin as we pass by another family of four chattering quickly in a mixture of French and Creole.

“We’re similar to Canada that way.”

“Do you miss it here?”

My eyes glance over at him, notice the soft empathy in his expression.

“I guess I do sometimes,” I say while I kick at a stray pebble, “It’s like homesickness. But in a way I can’t quite explain,” after a moment, I ask, “do you miss Korea?”

“The food, mostly,” he grins bashfully, “my halmeoni makes a killer gamja tang.”

“Let’s go visit her one day.”

“Is that a promise?” he asks as I shrug, “if you want it to be.”

It’s a little past six when we drive up to the Flic En Flac beach and as we gather our things, my eyes light up upon falling on a nearby roti stand. I quickly slap Kevin’s arm in my bout of excitement.

“Ouch! What? What is it?”

“Kevin, you’re not going to believe this,” I point at the stand in question, “this roti stand? It’s the best roti in Mauritius. Here, take this,” I don’t wait before shoving my bag and camera in his arms, “I’m gonna buy us some. You go and find us a spot on the beach.”

“But--”

I don’t wait for him to finish his sentence before taking off, greeting the merchant who is just about to be wrapping up to ask whether I can get two rotis with ‘cari saumon’ (roughly translated into salmon curry mixed with indian spices), local and freshly made. The smell wafts through the folded paper wrappers as I grab them. They smell just like my childhood, where everything had just been as easy as having rotis by the beach without a care about the future that is to come. It’s nostalgic and I can’t help the smile tugging up my mouth at the thought.

Kevin is already settled atop a pair of spare towels and looks up at the sound of my footsteps approaching. I pass him one of the paper wrappers and he takes a peek, confusion flitting across his face.

“This smells spicy,” he mutters loudly enough for me to hear, “it looks like naan bread.”

“It is,” I agree, “except it’s flatter and more like a crepe.”

Throwing me a hesitant glance, he takes a small bite. I watch his face go from confused to impressed in a few seconds, before his eyes whip up to mine, “woah, this is good.”

“Told you so.”

“But this is really, really good,” he can’t help but marvel at it and laughing, I proceed to dig into my own roti, allowing my mouth to be filled with that salty fish taste melting along my tastebuds, the curry spices giving it the nice tangy kick you wouldn’t find anywhere else. The roti is soft and practically melts on my tongue and I can’t help but moan at how good it is.

“God, this is everything I’ve been looking for my whole life,” I find myself telling him, wrapped up in momentary bliss, “this, this is everything.”

I can feel his eyes on me, so intense that my own flicker up in question. He drops his gaze the moment I do and I frown, confused.

“What?” I can’t help but ask, wondering why he suddenly seems so meek, so shy and awkward, “what is it?”

“Nothing,” he replies like he’s trying to be casual, except that it’s anything but. When he gazes back at me, I notice the warmth in his maroon eyes, more the color of caramel in the dim light from the sunset basking his profile in a golden glow, “I think--I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you so happy, since...”

He doesn’t need to continue, for I know where this is going. Indeed, this is the first time in many months that I haven’t paid any attention to the hole inside my heart.

And it feels good.

“Yeah,” I murmur as I watch the sun settle on the ocean’s horizon, fire kissing water, “I don’t know, I just feel like this is nice. Like it’s right.”

I spare him a glance from the corner of my peripheral and watch him shift. His sleeveless shirt slips, allowing me a glimpse of the naked skin underneath. I quickly look away, slightly embarrassed at the notion of even thinking of him in such a way.

“That’s how you should be, Y/N,” Kevin murmurs back just as softly. It’s almost like talking too loudly will break the sudden spell that has settled over our shoulders. He takes a sip of his beer before continuing, “you’ve suffered enough for someone who deserves nothing but shit for what he’s done.”

There’s a small pause as I digest his words. Then, I manage to murmur out, “thanks, Kevin.”

“No problem.”

Another small bout of silence ensues, covered up by the sound of the ocean roaring up the sand, distant birds chirping in the fading light of the sunset drowning into the now orange-flecked waters.

“Hey Y/N.”

I glance at him. He’s gorgeous, even more so somehow. Maybe it’s the time of the day, maybe it’s the mood, or maybe it’s the way my heart can’t help but be swallowed in gratefulness whenever I look at him.

“What?” I ask.

“Do you know water has memory?”

I choke on my beer, “do not-- and I mean this-- do not quote Frozen with me.”

“Huh, I tried.”

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

“So, Kevin huh?”

My eyes shoot up to meet Emma’s in her crusty-dust-filled mirror, presently lounging on her bed and flipping through a book as I had been trying on my bridesmaid gown. Kevin is downstairs, helping out with the barbeque grill with the rest of the family, and it is only now that I get to have some alone time with the woman I consider my sister.

She’s the only one that knew the exact details of my breakup, and that Kevin is only a mere replacement to cover my humiliated ass. I remember her trying to calm me down when I had called in a frenzy, practically hyperventilating because of the amount of pain that gripped at my heart and was choking me of all air.

I revert my eyes back to the dress, a baby blue as bright as a summer sky, and smooth my hands down my sides, “he’s been so good to me, ever since…” I can’t finish the sentence, voice already wobbling at the thought that comes with it.

“Hey,” Emma’s murmur causes me to look up, and in her eyes I see a flicker of understanding, “he’s not worth it.”

“I know,” I swallow back the tears crawling up my throat, “I know, it’s just--a hard pill to swallow.”

A hand comes to a rest at my elbow, before my cousin tucks her chin atop my shoulder, “it’ll be alright, Y/N. He doesn’t deserve you."

I nod. Then, just to change the subject so that I don’t break down in her arms, I gesture towards the dress, “so? How does it look?”

Emma tugs at some pieces here and there, rearranging the fabric as she sees fit, “I think it looks good. You look gorgeous. Kevin will swoon, for sure.”

“It’s not like that,” I hurriedly say as I strip out of the dress and put it back on its hanger, “we’re just friends.”

“Mhm,” she throws me a pointed look, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her lips, “'just friends' doesn't feel right..”

“Emma, really? Right after my breakup?”

“He came to Mauritius just for you Y/N,” she squeezes my shoulders comfortingly, “doesn’t that count for something?”

“Well, we’ve been friends since high school so…”

“I don’t think just any friend in high school would do such a thing if I asked,” Emma catches my eye in the mirror, her gaze deep and meaningful, “just think about that.”

I just nod in hopes that she’ll stop yapping away at my nonexistent relationship with Kevin, whatever that means. The hole in my heart is still so raw and filled with pain that I can’t even start thinking about another relationship. The thought alone is enough to drain me of all energy and I decide to brush it off for now as I follow Emma out in the backyard now filled with familiar chatter and the smell of cooked meat wafting through the air, with the sky bruising a soft purple to signal the end of a long summer day.

Catching sight of Kevin as I bring out one of the many salad bowls that my family has prepared, my lips can’t help but twitch into a slow smile when I see him by the grill, whipping away the multitudes of flies zipping back and forth as my other cousin deftly flips the sausages upside down with a trained rhythm that only years of experience can bring.

“Kevin! You’re not doing your job right!” my cousin cries playfully. Kevin attempts to flap the newspaper around while screeching, “oh god, my eyes are burning!"

“Someone bring more meat!” My cousin hollers.

“There’s more?!”

“He’s doing a great job,” my grandmother’s voice brings my attention back to the salad bowl in my hands, and I quickly bend to kiss her cheek as she continues, “better than any of your other cousins. They never help out.”

“That’s because you pamper them too much, grandma,” I grin at her and follow her to the dining table where my aunts are already settling down amongst themselves.

The evening passes by with good food and good company, the sky darkening and dotting with a veil of stars that has Kevin gawking in awe. I'm not surprised, you don't see skies like that anywhere, a sky that isn't so intoxicated with modern chemicals. My uncles take it upon themselves to introduce Kevin to all the types of Mauritian delicacies, such as chickpea fritters we call 'gato pima', small balls of graped choko vegetable and minced pork 'niouk yen', and to top it all off, a plate of cornmeal pudding also known as 'pudine mai' that makes Kevin's eyes go wide with surprise.

"This is dessert?" He holds it up in his hand, "with ...cornmeal?"

"Sure is," one of my aunts chime in with a smile, "made it just this morning."

It's past midnight when we get back to our little apartment with Emma's dress hanging off my arms, which Kevin doesn't hesitate to grab from my hold despite my protests.

"It's fine dude," he flashes me a quick smile, albeit tired, and my heart does this weird little squeeze in my chest at his thoughtfulness.

He's kind. Too kind. I really don't deserve someone like him.

"I'm sorry," I say as we settle onto the small couch, shoulders fitted snugly against each other, "my family is kinda overwhelming."

"No no," Kevin looks over, edges of his lips curled up, "I actually love your family, you know."

My chest warms, "thanks."

There is a moment of silence that we enjoy, the day's events sinking into my bones.

"Hey," he murmurs.

"Hm?"

My eyes slide over to catch his, dark pools glimmering with a certain softness that catches my attention.

I bite my lip. It suddenly feels a little warm.

"What is it?" I ask, voice hoarse.

"Is oreo a sandwich?"

I sit up so suddenly that I jostle him, "wait--what?"

He grins up at me with that little nose scrunch that I can't help but find endearing, "is oreo a sandwich?" I open my mouth to answer but he beats me to it, "is cereal a soup?"

"Stop."

Reclining back to lace his hands at the back of his head, he says, "is ketchup a smoothie?"

"Stop it."

"What about hotdogs? Are they sandwiches?" He continues in a singsong voice and rolling my eyes, I make a move to punch him once more. But he's faster, hand shooting out to hold my wrists. He pulls me over and I stumble, knee pressing against the side of his leg.

"Come on. Answer it," he wriggles his eyebrows.

"Nope."

“Don’t be a party pooper.”

“You’re so annoying.”

"Are you sick of me yet?" His face is so close that I notice the creases at the corner of his eyes when he smiles.

"That's an understatement."

"But really, do you think oreo is a sandwich?"

"No! Oreos are just oreos!"

“You’re no fun,” He pouts before finally releasing his hold. I draw back with a roll of my eyes, settling beside him once more and pillowing my head onto his shoulder.

Emma’s right. Kevin had sacrificed so much to be here with me, and he doesn’t even know Emma. Yet, he immediately dropped everything so that he could be my plus one, so that I wouldn’t have to face the music alone. The thought makes my heart swell with emotion and suddenly I’m all too aware of his presence beside me.

I shift to gaze at him, eyes tracing the curve of his nose, the indent above his lips before I whisper, “hey Kevin.”

“Hm?”

“Why’d you come?”

His eyes flicker over to mine then. A heartbeat passes. For a moment, I wonder if he can hear my heartbeat suddenly throbbing a little too loudly in my chest.

“Good question.”

Another pause.

“That’s not an answer,” I laugh slightly, to show that it’s all just fun and games.

But when I catch his eyes next, there’s something else brimming in them. They’re tender with emotion and it catches me so off guard that I almost don’t catch his next set of words:

“Because I care about you.”

My heart gives a quick lurch but I somehow can’t tear my gaze away. I want to say something. Anything.

But all I can muster is a soft, “oh.”

“Why do you ask?” he asks, voice hoarse.

I hesitate, “Emma asked why. And...I guess I wanted to know too.”

“Oh.”

The air feels heavy, heightened with the things that are threatening to slip off the edge of my tongue. A mixed series of ‘but why’s and ‘can’t you tell me more’ jumbling up my thoughts with so many possibilities that I decide to stay quiet for the sake of not ruining the moment. Because there’s this lingering fear that once I do say something, then it’ll just pull me down a rabbit hole that I can’t crawl out of, that the only escape lies on the other side.

And I don’t know if I want to take that leap yet. My heart is already so fragile with the aftermath of a love that went wrong. I don’t know how much more I can take.

So I just stay quiet and let out a soft sigh, and though Kevin shifts as if he wants to say something, he doesn’t. The question just hangs there between us, in-between the slithers of moonlight and in the cold Moka air, like a perpetual ghost we ignore as we drift off to sleep.

----------

Something shifts between us after that. It’s unspoken of, but suddenly, I am all too aware of Kevin as a whole. Things that I hadn’t noticed before surface as we spend most of our free time visiting the rest of the island; like how he loves ruffling his hair whenever he feels uncomfortable, or the way his bicep curls as his arm drapes over the wheel with the barest hint of muscle that is enough to be attractive yet subtle, or how he smirks in that attractive way of his whenever he thinks something is undeniably adorable.

The good thing about having Kevin is that I don’t get to think of him all too much, which is a blessing in itself. It’s been days since I’ve shed another tear and for that, I have to say I’m glad that I’m making progress.

We spent the last few days before the wedding traveling around the island to visit all the touristy spots that I know Kevin will enjoy, like a hike all the way to the top of Le Morne mountain, where I explain that’s where slaves would throw themselves off when their masters would find them. We visited Bois Cheri, a tea-making factory where Kevin had the pleasure of tasting all different kinds of teas cultivated in the fields below, and ate lunch on the Caudan Waterfront as we gazed at the boats lulling along the harbour.

“Woah, this place makes me feel like I’m in Aladdin somehow,” Kevin’s mouth is wide agape as his eyes try to take in the endless racks of stands selling fresh fruits and vegetables of the day. The Port-Louis Bazaar has always been one of my favourite places to visit, but it’s also one of the busiest. Even now as we attempt to squeeze our way through, people are jostling us here and there, causing me to press my bag to my chest in case any pickpockets are nearby. I prompt Kevin to do the same.

“Hey Y/N, I wanna check out the bags over there,” Kevin motions towards the hand-woven baskets situated at the far end of the market and I nod as we keep moving forward with the crowd like a pair of salmons trying to swim upstream. But there’s so many people, it’s so suffocating that it gets hard to keep up with Kevin’s figure. Someone elbows my shoulder and I groan, stumbling to the side in irritation, only to get pushed forward by another.

“Seriously--” I curse under my breath, when a hand suddenly appears before my eyes.

Looking up to see Kevin’s outstretched arm, I am only greeted with his bashful smile and averted eyes.

“Come on,” he doesn’t even wait for my consent before slipping his palm over my own and tugging me along, his hold firm and strong despite his skinny frame and the action is enough to render a flurry of butterflies soaring over my stomach.

Stop, I try telling my subconscious. That does nothing, however, to stop my neck from tingling with unfamiliar heat.

Kevin’s hand feels so warm. It’s comfortable, safe.

And I’m liking it a little too much.

He doesn’t let go when we reach the desired stand and talk over which bag looks the best and keeps his hand in mine for the entirety of our journey back to the car. Only when I unlock the doors that his palm finally drops from my hold and air rushes over my palm that is now a little too cold without his warmth. But while a multitude of questions are burning the back of my throat, they fall apart halfway through at the thought of his answer, before I decide to drop it altogether.

Kevin, on the other hand, doesn’t seem the least bit affected.

When the day of the wedding finally rolls around, I drive my car to Emma’s after a quick breakfast that Kevin surprised me with -- to my surprise, he’d managed to make a decent eggs and toast without burning the place down -- so that I can help her get into her gown and more importantly so that she doesn’t run away, lest her mind goes in a frenzy at the thought of tying the knot.

“You’ll be fine,” I reassure her, teasing a few of her curls so that they slip down to her chest in a perfect wave. She looks stunningly beautiful, with her strapless white dress that shimmers with diamonds in the light with every movement she makes.

I reach out to smooth over her veil so that it falls on either side of her face, frames her perfectly, and notice her big brown eyes staring back at me through her vanity mirror.

“You look beautiful,” I can’t keep the awe from my voice.

Her face blossoms into a smile, “you too.”

“Ah come on, you can’t say that to me on your wedding day,” I shove her playfully on the shoulder, “you’re the star of the show. Don’t let anyone take that away from you.”

“Okay mom,” she rolls her eyes before changing the subject, “So, how have things been? With Kevin?” My hands freeze in mid-action, “It’s good.”

I don’t have to look at her to know that she’s giving me a pointed look.

I sigh, “well, okay. Maybe you’re right. About the whole…’just friends’ thing not being true.”

“Why?” she straightens up, turns to me, “what happened? Did you kiss? Did he make a move--”

“No we didn’t kiss,” I’m quick to answer as my cheeks heat up. And after a few beats of hesitation, I give her a summary; the way he’d looked at me that night with eyes that held so much in them that it had made my chest swell, the way that he’d snitch glances at me whenever he thought I wasn’t paying attention, and the fact that he’d grabbed my hand and didn’t let go even long after the crowd wasn’t an issue anymore.

Emma’s eyes are wide and sparkling with a feeling that I know all too well, I can practically see the cogs turning in her head and quickly shook mine in rapid retaliation, “Emma, no.”

“But--But he’s perfect for you!” she bellows in protest, “What do you mean ‘no’?!”

“I can’t go there. Not after,...not now, it’s too soon…”

She rolls her eyes, “it’s not like he’s asking you to marry him, christ’s sake. He likes you, and I feel like you’re only trying to deprive yourself because you feel like it’s not right.”

“It’s not right--”

“Who says so?” she cuts me off then, her gaze hardening on mine with such intensity it takes everything in me not to flinch back, “who says it’s not right? It doesn’t matter if it’s after two days, two weeks, two months. You think I don’t know how it feels to be heartbroken? You can’t just keep thinking about the past. You’re going to hurt yourself that way.”

My teeth sink down onto my lower lip, her words like ice-cold knives aimed straight at my chest.

“What you can control, right now, is the present, Y/N.”

“I know,” I mumble out half-heartedly.

“I can see it, you know, the way he looks at you,” she shakes her head, “even if you don’t like him back, you gotta be aware of all that he’s done for you.”

Her hands find their way to mine, enclosing them in her grasp before squeezing them with such care that I can’t stop the tears crawling up the back of my throat.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs next, “I don’t want to pressure you if that’s not how you feel. That--That was not my intention,” her eyes latch onto mine, filled with understanding, “I just want you to be happy.”

Happy.

That’s a word I haven’t heard in a long time.

“Don’t you dare cry now,” Emma says while waving her hands around in warning, “you’re going to ruin your makeup and we definitely don’t want that.”

I sniffle, trying my best to hold in the tears now brimming through my eyes, “you’re right,” I attempt to smile, albeit it’s wobbly, “we don’t.”

“Come here,” she tugs my arm so that I fall into her embrace. Her head finds her way to my shoulder and she hugs me tight, not caring that her veil is getting all bunched up and wrinkled, “you’ll be okay,” she whispers, one hand stroking my back, “you’ll be just fine, little one.”

Then, pulling back and pushing a few strands away from my face, she flashes a bright smile, “we should probably head to the church soon.”

----------

“We now declare you, Vincent and Emma, as husband and wife.”

The church explodes in a round of applause and I join in the clapping, furiously trying to keep the tears of joy at bay. Vincent has been there for Emma ever since they met at work and it has been the most beautiful love story ever since; filled with the purest kind of love no one can imagine. Beside me, I feel Kevin’s hand coming to squeeze my shoulder in a reassuring manner and I feel warm all over despite the rush of emotion in my heart.

The wedding reception is to take place at a fancy restaurant overlooking the harbourfront. Our family has booked the venue for the evening, and as I enter, I take in the baby blue veils that come down each corner of the restaurant, sprinkles of glitter here and there as we make our way to our assigned tables that each have a baby blue napkin shaped in swans.

I don’t even have time to place my butt down when I hear a voice call out, “Y/N! Look how big you’ve gotten!”

Of course, big wedding ceremonies only mean that we get to meet all of our extended family that we haven’t seen since forever, and they’re all too happy to chat with me about living overseas. Soon enough, I’m bustled off to a table and look back over my shoulder to mouth a quick “I’m sorry” to Kevin. Bless his soul, for he only smiles and shakes his head, his hand motioning for me to go on.

I manage to catch up with cousins I haven’t seen since I was a little girl, talk over appetizers with excited aunts who want to know all about how it feels like to live away from family for such a long time, and nod along to the old uncles trying to get me to give a concrete answer about when and where will my wedding take place.

“Come on Y/N! You’re the next one after Emma for sure,” one of my uncles bellow, face flushed red as a result of the glasses of wine he has downed like water. He is Emma’s father, no surprise that he’ll want to get drunk from happiness and pride. It is his daughter’s wedding after all.

He leans close with a conspiratorial look in his eyes, “so tell me,” his eyes glance over to Kevin, currently deep in conversation with another one of my distant aunts. I watch as he says something to make her laugh, and something inside my chest warms at the action, “is he the lucky guy that’s going to ask for your hand?”

“Do you think he’s the one?” another uncle pipes up.

I purse my lips and attempt to shrug, “it’s early days,” I try laughing it off although it sounds forced, “who knows what can happen.”

“He’s a good kid,” an aunt says, “you know how we all have this sixth sense? Well Y/N, I have a good feeling about this young man. Don’t let him go. Something tells me he’s a keeper.”

A wild imaginative speculation, considering that we’re not even dating. But I nod along and say that yes, I’ll tell them whenever I decide to tie the knot.

It’s only when the dance floor opens and people start pooling onto the dance floor after the first dance -- led by no other than the bride and groom themselves -- that I finally allow myself to breathe. I find my way back to my chair, back to Kevin’s warm smile flashing in my direction as his eyes take in the fatigue lining my face.

“You look like you could use a drink,” is the first thing he tells me the moment I plop my butt onto my designed seat, the one that’s been kept cold ever since I stepped foot into the dining hall.

I gratefully accept the glass of wine he offers me, swallowing it down in a few gulps, “thanks,” I sigh with relief, “I needed that.”

“How was catching up with family?”

“It couldn’t be as bad as being left behind,” I peer over at him, guilt flooding me at the prospect of having left him all alone, “sorry. It’s just that everyone--”

“Oh stop that,” Kevin nudges my shoulder with his, “don’t be sorry. It’s totally normal. I’m happy for you. And I wasn’t left behind. I had a wonderful time talking to your aunt. She seemed so happy to tell me what your childhood was like.”

“Bet you liked that, didn’t you?”

“Hey, it works as blackmail. Why wouldn’t I like that?”

“Dork.”

“You’re friends with this dork.”

“Oh piss off,” I slap his shoulder playfully in retaliation, causing him to laugh softly as we watch couples glide across the dance floor like swans over water. The lights have dimmed, the yellow hues now replaced by soft cool blues and purples that cause Emma’s dress to shimmer every time she turns. She’s absolutely stunningly beautiful, and the way she and Vincent are gazing at each other just scream of pure love that wraps around them in a golden mist so enchantingly beautiful that I find myself catching my breath in the back of my throat.

“She’s so beautiful,” the words fall from my mouth without meaning to, and I feel Kevin’s eyes on my face from the corner of my peripheral.

“You are too.”

I bite my lip and narrow my eyes at him playfully, “thanks, but why do I have a feeling that this isn’t a compliment?”

“It isn’t,” he holds my gaze, “it’s just the truth.”

Emotion lodges at the back of my throat. I stare at him. He stares back, a glimmer of tenderness echoing through the dark pools of black, his whole expression relaxed into a face that appears flooded with affection for--

Me.

For some reason, no words seem to come to me as I open my mouth and close it. Embarrassment slowly bubbles through my stomach. I look away, unable to contain the goosebumps suddenly exploding across the back of my neck with that same familiar uncomfortable sensation I keep getting around him these days. Like I’m standing atop a cliff and preparing myself to jump.

“Wanna dance?”

I blink in surprise, before turning to the said young man beside me who has his head cocked to the side with that same expression. My heart can’t help but squeeze inside my chest before I push down the rising protest searing through my brain.

I nod. And off we go onto the dance floor. His hands settle on my waist, mine atop his shoulders in a casual sling. There’s enough distance between our bodies to show that we’re not together and yet, I can’t deny that electrical tension that keeps on pulling me towards Kevin like a magnet. I wonder if he feels it too, that searing heat that is so palpable I can feel sweat break out from the back of my neck. Asking, though, would mean that I’m aware of what’s happening, asking would imply that I want something to happen.

Maybe I do.

Maybe I do want to grab life by the reins myself and steer it wherever I want it to go.

“What are you thinking about?”

I blink. Right up into Kevin’s brown orbs, his hair catching the shades of blue from the disco balls. My throat runs dry.

“Uh--” my mind tries to scramble for a response, any response, “just--uhm, it’s kind of like our last day here.”

He cocks his head, “sad?”

“Kinda. I like it here,” my eyes brush over Emma and Vincent’s forms in the vicinity, catch my grandma sitting at one of the tables, little cousins running all over the place. Then, I look back at the said young man gazing at me with that undecipherable look in his eyes that makes my heart sing, and try not to squirm as I continue softly, “it feels like home.”

“We can always come back,” he uses ‘we’ as though it’s now an adventure kept between the two of us, a secret to our own little neverland that nobody knows about. I can’t help but smile at the thought.

“Do you want to come back?” I ask.

“Are you kidding? Hell yeah I want to come back. The views are amazing, the food is out of this world, and your family has been really kind to me.”

“I’m sorry, they are kind of overbearing when you first get to know them.”

“I love it,” Kevin says seriously, “I love that they’re overbearing. Couldn’t have asked for anything more.”

If I had any doubts, the sincerity dripping from his eyes is enough to wipe out any suspicions left from his compliment. The sudden urge to hug him rocks through me and my hands fist on the back of his shirt in response.

We keep on dancing silently, bobbing from one foot to another for a few minutes more before he speaks up softly.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“I wouldn't mind getting married here.”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “really now?”

“Yup,” he grins, “really.”

“Your future wife will have me to thank for that.”

“Maybe my future wife won’t have to thank you.”

There it is. That same borderline flirting that’s been happening for days on end.

“And why is that?” I probe, partly just to tease him, and partly because I just want to know.

“Maybe she might be right here, in this room.”

“Didn’t know you were into one of my cousins,” I start looking around the room, only for one of his hands to cup my cheek to turn my face back to his.

There is none of that teasing glimmer now. His eyes are darker, gazing down at me with such emotion that the breath catches in the back of my throat and the air halts in my lungs. We gaze at each other for a few beats longer, before I feel his thumb graze my cheek. Gently, so gently like he’d stroke a flower petal.

Swallowing at the heat of his hand cupping the side of my face, my hands unconsciously tighten on the back of his neck. He senses my nervousness, but only pulls me slightly closer so that we are mere millimeters from each other, noses hovering over each other in a space that causes my heart to stutter inside my chest.

When he opens his mouth next, his alto is hoarse, pent-up with emotion.

“I wasn’t talking about your cousins.”

My heart practically jumps to my throat, teeth biting onto my lip.

I can’t hear the music, nor the people. I can’t hear anything except for my pounding heart and Kevin’s soft breaths washing over my face.

His eyes search mine and we hold gazes for a moment too long.

“Y/N?”

I press my lips together, “Y-Yes?”

He moves even closer then so that his nose brushes mine in the most intimate of ways.

“I--”

“Y/N! I was looking all over for you!”

We spring apart like we just got burnt just in time for one of my cousins to grab onto my arm. He sends an apologetic smile at Kevin, before explaining, “we just need to sort out the takeaways. She’ll be back in a second!”

And without listening to my protests, he proceeds to drag me away from the said young man on the dancefloor. I look back, mouthing an ‘I’m sorry” once more -- it’s the second time that night!-- and see the raven-haired man laugh good-naturedly before shaking his head and waving me away. That does nothing to keep my heart from cartwheeling out of my chest, swelling up with such affection that I grin back despite the earlier predicament.

One thing’s for sure: I’m not done talking with Kevin Moon yet.

----------

I find him sitting alone in the tiny garden that overlooks the decorated pavillon a few hours later. His figure, illuminated by the soft yellow hues of interior light, seems to glow in the dark, the moon bouncing off his hair and catching the strength of his cheekbone when he turns and catches me staring. He only smiles though -- that beautiful tender smile that I keep seeing more and more these days -- before waving me over.

“What are you doing out here all alone?” I ask as I reach his figure. A soft breeze dances along the back of my spine, cool in contrast to the warm stickiness of the air.

“Your smaller cousin was showing me what she’d learnt in astronomy at her school,” he tilts his head up at the sky, “she’s quite the prodigy at that.”

“The next woman to land on the moon,” I joke.

“Jeez, I should get her autograph.”

“Wise idea,” that’s when I feel his hand slip into mine and I look down at him, blinking. He grins a little shyly, before tugging me forward so that I all but stumble right into him, halfway sprawled across his lap.

Heat explodes through my chest at the proximity of our bodies and I can’t help but avert my gaze from his, partly embarrassed that maybe there might be someone around to see, and partly because it’s only recently that I’ve started seeing Kevin in a new light that being so close makes my heart choke up and my mind to run blank.

We’re close. So close I feel his breath mingle with mine. My hands settle atop his chest lightly, “Kev,” I breathe out but nothing follows, too scared to verbally voice out what is going on for fear that it might all crumble into nothing.

I don’t want false hope. I also don’t want his heart -- or mine -- to break.

This friendship is too precious to let go. I can’t imagine a life without Kevin in it.

“Listen Y/N,” Kevin’s voice is soft, a hushed murmur resonating through his chest as his eyes search mine, “I think we both know what’s happening here.”

I nod mutely.

Taking a shaky breath, he continues, “I don’t want to do anything that will hurt you. I know it’s been tough and that you’re still healing. I just--I just want to know.”

As his words wash over me as gently as the forest leaves rustling around us, I feel the warmth of his hand cupping my cheek, holding me like I am fine china and stroking my skin with his thumb so that butterflies suddenly rush along my middle.

I bite my lip so hard I can taste blood, " I-- well, I think you already know how I feel."

"I know," he breathes, "but I need to hear it from you."

As if it isn't hard enough to come face to face with my own feelings, having Kevin stare me down as though I put the moon in his sky makes me want to squirm with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement.

“I like you,” I blurt out then, “a lot.”

There is a few seconds delay, before a shit-- eating grin --the biggest I’ve ever seen -- spreads across Kevin’s face like sunshine peeking through the clouds.

“Enough for us to go on a date?”

I nod mutely. I don’t trust my voice, not right now when I already feel so pathetic. Kevin’s grin softens into a tender smile, one that I can’t help but return when our eyes meet in the most intimate of ways. Suddenly, the air feels charged and alive with electricity, the heat between our bodies palpable as his hand moves to the back of my neck.

He tugs. I follow.

His lips find mine mid-way in a delicate kiss.

It’s soft. Softer than any kiss I’ve ever had. Kevin’s mouth parts over my own in a gentle caress, before he tilts his head to the side and captures my lower lip between his.

I gasp slightly at the contact, hands unconsciously tightening around his neck.

Slowly leaning away, I notice the film of lust like a dull glow at the back of his maroon orbs, just the slightest hint that he wants me as a woman. And that makes my lungs constrict, air suddenly halting in the back of my throat.

My skin is prickling with the aftermath of his touch. I let out a soft breath before he covers my mouth with his once more and all thoughts fly out of my brain the moment he does.

I don’t really know how long we spend outside, exchanging the softest of kisses underneath the moonlight, until I hear the soft exclamations of my family’s voices suggesting that it is time to head home. So I part from the said man and can’t help but blush at the lack of space between our bodies.

“We should probably head back,” I hate how wanton I sound, like I’ve just sprinted a mile when in truth I’ve been sitting in this very spot for the last hour.

He agrees and I descend from his lap, his hand subtly finding mine as we walk back to the wedding hall.

Emma is still saying her goodbyes, her hair now dotted with glitter, probably from the decorations that my younger cousins took pleasure in bathing her in. Her face lights up as soon as she spots our entwined hands and I try not to meet her eyes for I know exactly the kind of smug look she'll be giving me.

"Enjoyed the wedding?" She says as soon as we're within earshot.

"That must've been the best cake I've had in my life," Kevin lets out a dramatic sigh, "and that says something."

"Do I trust your taste buds though?" She teases.

"I'd be offended if you didn't," he gasped in mock offense, before they both break into playful chuckles.

As we exchange our goodbyes and Vincent engages Kevin in a conversation, Emma takes this chance to drag me to her side as she whispers, "so you gonna tell me the tea or am I going to have to extract it from you?"

I press my lips together as I try to control the heat searing through the back of my neck, "...we kissed."

She gasps, "No way! OH MY GOD! Are you guys a thing then?!" The answer is as clear as water on my face and she clamps a hand over her mouth, would've jumped up and down if she could've, "OH MY, OH MY GOD. I knew it! I just knew this was going to happen--"

"Shut up!" I hiss, scared that Kevin might overhear and think I'm a big fat tattle tale. My eyes quickly swivel over to his and I'm glad to find his head bent towards Vincent in concentration.

"You need to tell me everything," Emma's eyes are sparkling, "like--as soon as you have some free time."

"You--" I send her a pointed look, then jerk my head at Vincent, "--need to tell me everything."

"Oh I will, don't worry."

"Anyway, I'll talk to you after your honeymoon."

"Okay," I turn around to find Kevin, not failing to notice the smirk playing on Emma's lips. I slap her arm in response, causing her to laugh before she calls out:

"Don't forget to use protection!"

-----------

"We'll come back right?"

That's the first thing that Kevin states as soon as we step inside security, away from the tears of my family that I just left behind a few seconds ago. My heart still aches when I think of their faces, all crumpled and blinking at me with tissues in hand and noses as red as traffic lights. But I seek comfort upon feeling Kevin's hand slip through mine as we walk towards our destined gate.

"Sure," I look at him; at his red-tinted cheeks (probably the aftermath of a sunburn), his newly tanned skin a fresh contrast against his white shirt, and the permanent grin that seems impossible to wipe off his face. My heart instantly flutters.

It's only been a few days since we've confessed our growing romantic interest in each other, but I can already feel the weight of his love pouring out of his heart and into mine the moment he realized that my arms would be there to catch him when he fell.

"I'm not going to wake up to an empty bed tomorrow morning, am I?" He’d joked when we stumbled, half-asleep, into Emma's flat after the wedding.

I frowned at him, "Why would you think that?"

"Just in case you think that kissing me was a mistake."

A small pause ensued, in which I realized that despite all my fears and all the pain I had been carrying in my heart ever since we landed on my motherland, I had not once considered how Kevin might be feeling at this very moment.

My eyes quickly took note of his countenance, sweeping right up to his face only to notice the flash of vulnerability in his eyes, the way the corners of his mouth were tense, cheekbones taught against his skin as he awaited for my answer with baited breath.

Clearing my throat, I whispered, "it wasn't."

A soft smile tugged at his lips, "good to know."

His answer seemed so genuine, so wholehearted that my chest tightened in a mixture of gratefulness and affection, so much so that my arms automatically reached for him to tug him close. My nose found its rightful place at his neck and I breathed in his comforting lilac smell that I enjoyed so much.

I felt him take a breath. Then, softly, a hand caressed the back of my head. I buried even closer if that was possible.

"I really want this to work," my words were a muffled mess and I was surprised that he understood.

"Me too," he murmured into my hair, "and it will work. I promise I won't break your heart Y/N."

Looking back now at this tender moment in which we both weren't certain of where we were stepping, I can't help but laugh at the thought, for now the love and attraction is so natural I'm amazed it has taken this long to flourish.

Maybe I hadn't been looking the right way. Maybe I had been searching so far out and wide that I hadn't noticed that my safe harbour is the one standing right beside me.

"Hey Kevin," I call out.

Kevin turns towards me, where he'd been watching planes take off from the ground into the gorgeously blue sunny sky.

"Yeah?"

“I’m really glad you came.”

There's a few beats of silence although his mouth immediately cracks into that gorgeous, crooked grin of his that I adore so much.

“Me too.”

----

264 notes · View notes

tsuumu · 4 years

Text

good intentions.

kuroo x reader

your long-term boyfriend is perfect. i mean perfect. he excels at basically everything he does. well, except one thing. at least he has good intentions, right?

based off of a request found here.

word count:

tags/tw: y/n & kuroo are uni students, lots of playful insulting, kuroo is perfect, well not really, y/n is a mess, y/n is me doing any kind of work, domestic x1000, kuroo cooking is so cute.

You know those people who just seem to have it all?

No, not literally, but it’s so sickeningly easy for them that they might as well be arms reach of anything they want.

Usually we tend to dislike people like that, mainly because... well, we’re not them (much to our abysmal dismay, too). They end up taking a spotlight of jealousy in our lives and we find ourselves constantly thinking: Man, i’d love to kick their asses, but would alternatively jump at the oppertunity to switch lives with them ‘Freaky Friday’ style.

These people are the embodiment of admiration.

Young. Good looking. Fit. Successful. Socially conscious. Killer smiles. Can always hold a drink. Never seem to embarrass themselves even a little, but on the off chance they do, everyone adores them more and sees it as a cute little incident or quirk of theirs.

Just thinking about it makes you want to build yourself a bunker, deep underground, just to sulk in for a decade or so, lamenting angrily at the dusty walls.

Yes. You know the truth is that there will always be someone better than you at simply existing, but that doesn’t stop that simmering of content from rising within. Realistically speaking, you’d avoid these people like your life depended on it because they’re so... detestable.

So who would have known that you —of all people— would end up falling in love with one?

Well, you did. As much as they repel you, you find that they weirdly attract you too.

That’s right.

The man who stole that pretty little heart of yours, who’d caught your attention indefinitely with his cut-throat prowess and charisma. He’d approached you one fine evening at some bar you’d never been to before, ordered you your favorite drink because he’d seen you order it twofold previously (vodka cranberry, heavy on the juice) and chatted you up the way you’d always wished a guy would.

The appalling epitome of cliche.

The whole encounter practically ran like he’d planned it before-hand. It’s almost infuriating, how easily he swept you off of those tipsy feet of yours.

Something bumps lightly over your head as a shadowy figure passes by. You groan lightly in response.

“Hey, cut it out!”

Somehow, you’ve found yourself on the floor, crossed-legged, pen in your mouth and both your hands. One is furiously scrawling something down, the other flicking the cap off to highlight. It’s an understatement to note that you look like a bit of a mess, brows scruched up in an untidy pile in the middle of your forehead, dead-focused on the first draft of your thesis that was due weeks ago.

Yeah, you were one of those people.

A mocking string of apologetic noises come from the figure in front of you as he chucks his keys onto the kitchen counter.

Kuroo Tetsurou. That’s your A-list Boyfriend.

A-list of what? Of life, for god’s sake.

If it were him that’d been assigned a task with this ridiculous deadline, he’d probably have handed it before it was fucking given to him in the first place! Not only is he academically adept to the point of pure indignancy (on your part, of course, you’re too prone to jealousy for your own good), but his organisation is nothing short of freakishly unnatural.

He says he’s minimalistic, you say he’s an alien.

If someone had told you that the man you loved was actually some kind of secret government- made equipment to survey you, you wouldn’t bat an eyelid. He’s that good.

He chuckles at his own jeers, slipping a hand through the fridge handle. It unlatches with ease and he takes a cold can of beer out, pulling the tab back and allowing it to hiss open satisfyingly. Your eyes flicker upwards, gnawing at your knuckle, you’re not only stressed out, but unbelievably embarrassed that you’re at it again. He’s seen you like this countless times, after promising to clean up your act and follow in his footsteps.

Following in his footsteps. Well, that’s how he described it. You were close to socking his arm.

“Shut up.”

Tetsurou tilts his head back, drinking to his heart’s content before catching your eye. You’re correct. He has seen this before, so he knows not to take your off-handed comments to heart. Instead, he’s rather bemused.

“Your scruched up nose.” He begins, setting the can down to the side, crossing one leg over the other. “That’s your classic concentrating face.”

You’re not even listening if you’re honest. You’re trying to understand what this section of the task even means after re-reading it for the fifteeth time. The responses you give are made absently.

“Hm.”

“You look like a cat that’s been forced to wait to eat. That little glare. It’s cute, kitty.”

Your head jerks up questioningly. Did he call you cute?

His head tilts.

“Oh, you’ve relaxed your face now. It’s gone back to being ugly.”

You scowl and throw the highlighting pen at him.

“Go away! I’m almost done!”

Your fingers move to your lower back, pressing on your spine in hopes it’ll crack and relieve some of the tension in your body. Kuroo retrieves the pen, sweeping the can up with his spare hand. He plods over, craning his neck down to study whatever it is that you have on your lap.

“It’s too dark in here to see that properly.”

“I’m fine!”

“Well—“ He leans back to switch the overhead lights on. “—now you’re finer.”

You turn to him, pausing for a moment.

“Oh, thanks.”

It’s like you fall into this crazed state when you’re overworked. Frantic. Snappy. Cowering in the dark like some sort of parody Dracula— that is, if Dracula were three weeks late on his university assignment worth a disgustingly high percentage of his final grading. If Kuroo came too close, or said something a little too sly, you’d probably bite him. He knows this too, opting to keep quiet from now on. Instead, he sits leisurely on the floor, just behind you, placing his hands against your propped up body and gently pressing his thumbs into the blades of your back.

“Drop it a sec, yeah?”

Your body’s stiff, but you can tell he’s shocked at just how stiff it is. For a moment, you’re caught off guard, before rolling your shoulders back forcefully.

“Can’t... gotta finish—“ and you gesture wildly at everything around you. That answer was to be expected. You weren’t as academically driven, sure, but you weren’t one to give in easily. Or fail, for that matter.

Tetsurou plants a gentle kiss onto the nape of your neck, mumbling into the ridge of your spine.

“That—“ he copies your movements. “Can wait. I know you think it can’t, but it can. And you’re going to stop now.”

Your eyes lower a little, vision blurring.

“But—“

“Nope.”

You twist yourself to look at him, giving him another sour look.

“I’m serious!”

“So am I.” It rolls off the tongue so easily for him. He’s utterly calm. But then again, he’s not the one that needs to be on bloody ‘X-Games’ mode.

He’s never the one. Damn it.

You lift yourself up a little by placing your palms under you, wincing at the twinges of pain it induces. You’d made friends with the floor for a little too long, butt totally numb.

“Fine.” You resign, suddenly falling back onto him. “I’ll email my professor for the tenth time this week and wait as he rips me apart. Shall I?” Kuroo tuts, snaking an arm around your upper-body, the other brushing at your baby-hairs so he’s able to see your face a little clearer.

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“Uh— yes he would. Would you like front row seats to my untimely demise?”

“You’re so dramatic.”

For the first time through that entire day, you smile, even if it’s just a little. And to him, he’s managed to fish you out of that downward spiral you’ve been plunging into. Job well done on his part. He softly runs a his palm down your side.

“Your professor covers mine when she’s busy.” He states matter-of-factly. “Let me email him. It’s not ludicrous to say that i’m your boyfriend and you’re a little troubled at the moment.”

You’re slumped over, at the moment, chin buried into your chest.

“Troubled sounds like i’ve lost my mind.”

“Well not like that—“ The eager boy begins sifting out your laptop from under the seemingly endless piles of paper. “Let’s think of a better excuse.” Your body doesn’t move an inch, fiddling with the cap of the pen lid. You throw it by accident and it bounces too far to reach comfortably. Shit.

“Mmm.” He buries his nose into the crown of your head. “Shall I tell him you got into a car accident?”

“What? Tetsu, that’s stupidly unbelievable. I don’t even drive.”

“I guess... maybe not a car.” His fingers teasingly splay over your stomach, body bent intrusively over yours. They move against the softness of your flesh, dipping down slightly.

You suck in a breath.

“I’m sure I can do something for you that’ll keep you from walking for quite some time.” Tetsurou hums deeply, and it feels like he’s talking directly into your brain.

Your fingers fumble for the pen he just gave back, before hitting him square on the forehead with it. It ricochets back perfectly onto your chest with a loud snap.

“Ow!”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Geez.”

“I don’t need excuses. I’ll just come back to it later.”

“Oh— yeah. That too.”

With a heave, you sit up, rubbing the side of your head as the blood rushes back.

“I’m kinda hungry.” You’d been so distracted with this work that even simple, human needs took a backseat.

This is why Kuroo doesn’t like it. At times like this, you’d barely eat, sleep, breathe. Seriously. Sometimes you’d hold your breath for absurdly long periods of time whilst reading, only to hack and gasp and apologise because you were so into it.

That’s... extreme. And he does not approve in the slightest.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm...” Your eyes sparkle hopefully. “Did you get me something to eat?”

Tetsurou scratches his neck timidly.

“Well, not exactly.”

Immediately, your face drops and he protests wildly.

“Don’t look at me like that!”

Well— well— you couldn’t help but be disappointed! You were starving and tired and ready to email your professor a string of rather unpleasant curse words instead of another half-assed excuse. Your fingernails had been worn down considerably from all the abrasive biting you’d done, aching and red.

Being a full-time student was covert self-destruction. You heavily relied on your boyfriend to bring in food because you didn’t have the time to do so yourself. This had been discussed and agreed upon prior though, since along with Tetsu’s many formidable talents, a balanced work to school life was yet another.

He ambles back to the kitchen area, gesturing to the island smack bang in the middle.

“That doesn’t mean I came empty-handed.”

Oh. You hadn’t noticed it before, but he’d come home with groceries. Um. Groceries?

“What’s that?”

“Stuff I picked up on the way back.”

“Like, ingredients?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

The both of you are quiet for a moment, and you’re eyeing the bag like it’s appeared out of nowhere with something potentially life-threatening inside it. Yes, that sounds stupid. But the truth is... you guys never really got groceries. Not actual groceries with actual ingredients. Because that is a strong indicator that they’d have to be cooked.

And god, neither of you knew how to do that.

You’re a student who’s barely stepped into adulthood, not Gordan Ramsay.

Okay. You sound ridiculous. Cooking isn’t that complex. It’s actually quite simple if your heart’s in it.

“I figured i’d be able to do something with these.” Kuroo pats the bags and they crinkle a tad.

Of fucking course he’d ‘be able to do something’ with them.

He’s Kuroo-Genius-Tetsurou!

CEO of doing things with other things and it actually working out. Building cabinates, lock-picking, gardening, guitar, skateboarding, poker. Since you’ve been together, these are a few of the varation of things he’s naturally picked up.

You? You’re a more do-it-once-it-fails-and-never-do-it-again type.

In your mind there’s literally no doubt he’d ace cooking and list it under the other fifty(billion) things he’s also capable of, just so he can mention it off-handedly to other people at parties or something.

If there’s something to criticise about your boyfriend, he’s awful at shutting up about himself. He’ll go on forever, as if he’s showcasing his entire life to strangers in some desperate attempt to sell them his excessive excellence.

Is he arrogant? Maybe. But is he able to do it in a manner that’s utterly bewitching? Absolutely. He’s not gloating, you see, he’s ‘modestly sharing’. And you find yourself wanting to praise him, you want to hear about how much better he is than you.

Let’s be honest. Kuroo and modesty were not made to be placed in the same sentence, any humble talk of his is utter bullshit.

But everyone loves it all the same.

That’s what you mean about perfect people. They spark something in others. It’s almost hypnotic. And when you snap out of it, it’s like it’s been confirmed that you’re undoubtedly inferior. Post-Kuroo-Encounter depression. PKE. You having a devastating case of it.

Maybe you have a bit of a complex about this. Ugh.

He’s lucky he’s so damn loveable.

And that you’re so damn hungry.

“Okay.” You state.

Plus, you are a little curious to see what exactly will unfold with his newfound persuit in the culinary arts.

You haul ass to get up, audibly cursing, hopping around from foot to foot to get your blood-flow back in action. Eventually, you’ve nestled yourself onto a stool, hands propping your chin up, observing expectantly.

“What are you making, chef?”

“Uhh..” He’s rolling his sleeves up, eyes glued to the screen of his phone that’s placed facing upwards. “Chicken Alfredo.” Tetsu sounds a little uncertain but you’re staring into his head and you can almost hear the cogs turning. Really, it’s only a matter of time until the bastard works his Area 51-esque magic and concocts the dish.

He takes a little more time to familiarise himself with the recipe, before looking up, giving you a wicked grin.

“I’ve got this.”

You’re sure he does, smiling back.

Whilst he’s preparing god knows what, you peek into the grocery bag to see if there’s anything you can nibble on. You recieve another gentle smack to your head. Tetsu’s holding a packet of dry pasta.

He’s hit you with pasta.

“Nu-uh. I didn’t bring any kitty treats for you, be patient.”

“Stop hitting me like i’m a fly, or a cat!”

“Don’t be silly. I’d never hit a cat! They’re precious, adorable, i’d protect one with my life. And you—“ He hits you again. “—well, you’re you, baby.”

You snatch the packet forcefully and lob it at him again.

“You have a death wish, Kuroo-san.”

“Eesh. The formalities! I’m kidding!”

You cradle your cheek in your palm, sighing tiredly. The two of you usually ordered in, or got something you’d be able to set up pretty easily. Neither of you were particularly passionate about cooking, hence its absence in your routines. Yes, it’s excessively healthier than your current lifestyle, but you weren’t suffering. And even now, watching Tetsurou fill a pan with water, muscles firm against the shy of his shirt. You know he isn’t either.

Now that you’re looking, and looking some more, it’s pretty hot, seeing a guy cook.

“You know, you should make breakfast shirtless so I can tell my friends my hot boyfriend cooks me breakfast shirtless.”

He laughs.

“You’d enjoy that too much.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Yes. I can’t keep indulging you.”

He means that your desire for immediate gratification is your biggest weak-point. Kuroo’s recently been trying to teach you the art of patience. Abstinence. You don’t get it. Apparently perfect people believe in ‘self-control’ crap.

“Also, oil.” He adds.

“Oh, I suppose it’d hurt, right?”

“Mhm.”

Your boyfriend alternates from his phone to the actual practice in short cycles. To you, he looks like he’s on track, though you’re not quite sure what to be looking for in the first place. These things usually came ready and steaming on plates in restaurants. Even now, having to wait, it’s so difficult. But you’re enjoying the light conversation it brings, so it’s whatever.

Though, that lasting etch of confusion and concern on the boy’s face leaves you wondering if actually, this is proving slightly difficult for him.

“Is everything okay?” You pipe up.

He doesn’t answer at first.

“Think so.”

“Oh— i’ve never heard that from you before.” It’s usually straight confidence from this man.

“Shut up.”

From the stool, you slip, dragging your hand over the counter as you walk around to see it up close. You don’t really know what you’re expecting, but... it’s not this.

“Tetsu, that’s boiling a little violently, don’t you think?”

“...No?”

“Yeah. It is. That’s not a good sign.”

He bats you away.

“We can’t both stand here!”

“Why not?”

“Spaaace.” He whines. “And if we both stay crowded around it’ll—“

And it happens, exactly what you’d predicted.

You, of all people, had made an assumption your boyfriend hadn’t. Ain’t that crazy? The water rises up too high, boiling over and spilling absolutely everywhere. The gas flame heightens all of a sudden, curling up next to the fabric of a dish towel next to it. In a panic, you pull him back.

“What the fuck—“

There’s no time for you to think, your hands fumbling to close the stove, you hadn’t realised the water had seeped over it, causing you to cry out in pain in the process, hand burnt silly.

But you do it. Quickly too. And Kuroo’s utterly dazed, like he hadn’t even thought to react. Your immediate response post-injury is to suck on the wound, trying to suppress the pain with the soothing movements of your tongue. That doesn’t do much, so you flap it about like a mad man, that only instigates more irritation.

Tetsu snaps out of it when he hears your hissing, grabbing onto your wrist and pulling you to the sink forcefully, apologising profusely as he does.

Cold water hits you. It’s instant relief.

“God— i’m so sorry, (y/n)—“ He stumbles, still panicking, he seems to be experiencing everything five minutes too late. “I don’t know why that happened, I swear to God i’ve done that before but it just—“

You let out a giggle, and it shuts him up.

Another one slips. It gets louder and louder, harder to suppress until you’re full on belly laughing, hunched over. He stares at you, wordlessly surprised.

“T-Tetsu— you burnt water—“ You try and stifle your laugh but it only shakes your body more. His deep shame morphs into relief when he sees you’re okay. Tearfully making fun of him, but okay. He pulls you into a tight embrace, ignoring your remarks and still feeling unbelievably guilty.

It’s okay. You’re still chortling, holding him just as tight.

“Here, let me— let me bandage this.” In a cupboard somewhere, he pulls out a small wrap of fabric, proceeding to do just that. You watch happily enough, before turning to the boiled water that had completely stilled.

“Thanks. Let me do this.”

With considerable time and effort, you’re able to clean up the haphazard mess and start afresh, filling his place. Yeah, Kuroo is pretty humiliated, but he was more concerned about your wellbeing at the time than anything else. Seeing you unwavered was enough to make him feel like things were good.

It’s a miracle really, that you do end up filling two plates with delicious smelling pasta.

That lingering look of sorrow is still plastered all over the poor boy’s features, watching you with wide eyes.

“How did you manage that?”

You just shrug, licking a smidge of sauce off of your thumb.

“Dunno. Guess I have potential.” Your gaze moves up to his, pinching his cheek and blubbering jokingly. “Baby. What’s with the long face?”

“Feel bad.” Tetsu looks so glum. It’s adorable.

“Hm.”

The scrape of the plate against the counter is clear as bells as you urge him to eat.

“I should thank you, dumbass.” Admiring the bandage work, a grin settls upon you. This ordeal helps you to see that, actually, Tetsu wasn’t good at everything. In fact, for once, you were better.

And God. That’s— that’s different. You don’t want to be as cocky as him, but it feels nice for a change. He admires you.

“Got an excuse for that late assignment now.” You muse.

“Oh my god.”

You’re always going to be a handful.

“Ugh. Tetsu. Something good always come out of your actions. It’s sickening!”

“I hurt you, silly!”

“I’m feelin’ pretty good about it, regardless. Plus—“ You jump up, leaning over the counter to flick his forehead. “—i’m going to tell everybody this pretty little golden boy set our kitchen on fire because he tried to boil water.”

“Cruel. You’re cruel.”

“The cruelest.”

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu #kuroo headcanons #kuroo x reader #kuroo fic #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo testuro #kuroo fluff #hq #kuroo x y/n #cool this was fun 2 make #y/n is cute #kuroo is cuter

188 notes · View notes

heathuswrites · 3 years

Text

I Do Not Think We’re Invincible

Whumptober Day 1: “You have to let go” | barbed wire | bound

Fandom: The Hollow

Ship: Adam/Reeve

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34212718

Full fic under the cut

Out in the middle of the desert stood four large wooden pillars. And that was about it. Nothing else to be seen. You might think that you notice a palm tree in the distance. An oasis with enough drops of water to keep you going for just a few more days. But if you squint closely and look carefully, the edges start to blur. And if you start walking towards it, you begin to realise that it won’t get any closer.

Three of the figures who were at the base of each pillar kept staring out into that distance. Convinced one moment that there was something there. Something akin to safe. Something that might be able to bring them even just a tiny inch closer to home. But that moment would pass, and they would be drowning once again in the hopelessness they had been living in for all too long. The fourth and final figure was still slumped over, still stuck in a brief escape from the rest of the world.

Adam had woken up slowly.

He groaned his way back into consciousness to hear the muffled sound of his friends yelling his name. He tried to respond. Tried to tell them to shut the hell up because his head was throbbing and maybe if he had some silence, the world wouldn’t look quite so blurry through his eyelashes. He just tried to block out the noises. Focus on waking up more. Focus on getting out.

There was something scratching at his hands and with a slight pull, he realised that the scratch was coming from the very thing keeping his hands back there. That there were spikes digging into his skin. With only a few tugs, he had drawn blood. He tried to tug harder. He tried to break free. He had his powers. He was the strongest. They were relying on him.

But the world kept on spinning. And the background noise kept blaring with no distinction of words. And his the spikes kept on digging further in.

So he kept his head down and he just focused on breathing. Breathing and focusing. Breathing in. Breathing out. Letting the world slowly come back to him. Shuffling his hands behind the pole. Breathing in. Breathing out.

“Adam!”

The voice was a shrill, sharp screech bursting its way through his eardrums, pulling Adam back one step further into consciousness.

With one last shake of his head, Adam was almost brought back into reality. Almost.

Mira was stood to his right; he could tell that much now. And Reeve was behind her. Both tied to poles in much the same way that Adam himself was. And, judging by the desperate yells coming from the other side of him, Kai was here too. Not that he wasn’t expecting them all to be. They’d been suffering together for lord only knows how long. It wasn’t going to be ending, was it? They wouldn’t get that lucky.

“’wake. ‘m, ‘m ‘wake.” Adam managed to slur out, though he didn’t feel as though he fully was yet. He didn’t feel as if he ever could be. The world may have been more in focus, but it was still spinning.

“Are you okay?” Mira sounded… concerned? That was what concerned sounded like, right?

“mfine. Mkay.”

“He doesn’t sound fine.” Reeves cut in, finally stopping his efforts of trying to tug himself free for a second.

“Why is he the worst? Would’ve thought those super-ninja powers of his would give him superstrength against being freakin’ drugged?” Kai sounded genuinely curious.

“Except they gave him, like, quadruple what they gave us.”

“They did?”

“Course they did. He’s the one with the powers that could actually help right about now.” Reeve grit his teeth as blood started dripping down his wrists from the movement of his hands.

“Well maybe if you stopped just trying to pull apart metal, you could use your brain for once and figure another way out.”

“My ‘other way out’ was hoping that this dude would wake up with enough braincells to free us all, but guess that’s not gonna FUCKING HAPPEN!”

Adam was trying to breathe. In and out. In and out. But the world warped in and out with his breath and it all just became harder and harder to do. The sounds were getting louder and louder around him. His friends. Their voices. He just had to concentrate.

Concentrate.

Breathe.

Silence fell around them all.

All that could be heard was four sets of ragged breaths and all that they could feel was the heat on their backs and the steady stream of blood dripping from their fingers.

Adam was slumped over forwards, uncaring of the barbs piercing into his wrists. Mira and Kai may have been stood up straight, but their knees were close to giving in from supporting them in the heat of the desert.

Reeve had his head leant back against his pole.

He sobbed silently to himself, looking over at the others. He couldn’t keep doing this. He couldn’t keep living his life like this. Terrified. Constantly. Looking off into the distance for even the slightest chance at some sort of respite.

They were supposed to be superheroes.

He had never felt less super.

He looked over at Adam, still struggling to get himself fully back together again. He looked at Kai and Mira, felt the same despair they did with the knowledge that this torture they were going through wouldn’t stop. He felt the blood on his wrists, the biting metal that was putting it there. He sat in his helplessness. The same helplessness that had been sinking through his bones until it had found a home.

He had never felt less like a hero.

Use your brain.

There should be a way out of it. If they weren’t the good guys, then who was? They were kids. So why couldn’t the universe give them a break. Every film he’d ever seen had taught him that there was some other way out. Some way to escape this.

Use your brain.

Reeve was a superhero. He would be. If that’s what he needed to be. Because he was done waiting for the worst to happen. He was just plain sick of experiencing the worst as it happened. He wouldn’t let it. Not anymore.

He was a superhero. He had a superpower.

Reeve opened his glowing eyes and stared straight off at the horizon.

Moving things that he couldn’t see was hard. A lot harder than moving what he could. And a tangled mess of wire wasn’t easy to untangle even if you could see it and even if your hands weren’t the thing the wires were keeping in place. But slowly, piece by piece, each wire slid through the next until the only thing keeping Reeve’s hands in place were the barbs digging into his hands connected to the barbs digging into the wood. Pulling his wrists off the wires was painful, but the adrenaline of being free was enough to keep him going.

Reeve couldn’t hold back the laugh building up in his throat. He was free.

The others looked at him like he was crazy up until he fell forwards into the sand and then they looked at him like he was superman. He felt like superman.

Reeve let himself bask in the feeling for a count of ten before staggering up onto his feet.

Mira was released. And then she picked her way through Kai’s wire. Reeve concentrated on Adam.

It wouldn’t budge.

This close, Reeve could hear just how uneven Adam’s breathing was. How much he was struggling.

Then he heard a rumble.

Engines. And tires. And of course they couldn’t catch a break because they never could and now They were coming back and They were going to hurt them. They might even kill them. And maybe there was time to get away. But Adam was still bound and tied, and the wire just wouldn’t budge. And now Reeve’s eyes were blurring with the water in them. And that wasn’t helping anything. And none of this was fair.

“We need to go!” Kai was already tripping over his own feet in the opposite direction of the noises.

“Reeve, hurry it up!” Mira wasn’t moving yet, but she was hopping from one foot to the other, itching to get after Kai.

Reeve was working at the knot with his hands and with his powers, but everything he tried only seemed to make it tighter.

Adam was awake enough to struggle on his own. But his strength was far from back and all he was achieved was bloodying himself up.

Reeve struggled even harder, but it just wouldn’t give.

“Go.”

“Adam?”

Adam had stopped pulling and was instead leaning around the pole, his half-lidded eyes staring into Reeves.

“Go. Be safe. Go. Please.” It was quiet. And slurred. But at least he was making full words now.

“I’m not leaving.” Reeve kept desperately pulling.

His efforts were not rewarded.

“Reeve.”

Reeve was shaking his head. Refusing. But he could barely see anymore from the water coating his eyes.

“They could still be miles off. It’s the desert. Sound travels. We don’t know.”

“Reeve.”

“You’re gonna get out.”

“Reeve. Go.”

“No.”

“You have to.”

“No.”

“Reeve. You have to let go.”

“No.”

“Go.”

“I love you.”

Their foreheads are resting against each other. Their eyes are pleading with each other.

“I know. I love you too.”

The growl of the engines was getting ever louder as they got ever closer. Kai and Mira were stood a little way off, hoping against hope. It was now or never.

Adam shrugged Reeve off as much as he could from his position.

“Go.”

Reeve ran, disappearing into the haze of the horizon.

Of course the universe couldn’t let them have anything good. After all, this universe didn’t belong to them.

The engines got louder until they stopped. Until the roaring was replaced with solid, neat footsteps. Until the heat that had been crushing Adam was replaced with a cool shadow that filled him with dread.

A hand reached under his chin, pulling it up until he was looking into a face silhouetted by the sun.

“Hello Adam,” it said, “So where have your little friends run off to?”

#whumptober #whumptober2021 #no.1 #all trussed up and still nowhere to go #bound #barbed wire #you need to let go #the hollow #adam x reeve #kai #mira #fic #blood #title from juggernauts by enter shikari #idea from that music video

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iamakiller · 4 years

Text

owl always love you

Wordcount: 2000

Notes & Warnings: It has been far too long since I shared any of my fiction with you, hasn’t it? Well, how about five unhappy memories of Valentines past, and one that went perfectly to plan (... or did it?)

As for warnings, there is no sex at all, but there is an unfortunate accident, and a hint of murder. Hmm, I must be going soft in my old age ...

Five unhappy memories ...

Charlie is four.

Today feels like a very special day. There were flowers and a card on the kitchen table this morning, and no arguments over breakfast. It was almost like last night’s fight didn’t happen.

At preschool, the classroom has been decorated with red and pink hearts because it’s Valentine’s Day. The teacher reads the class a picture book about an owl who was looking for love, and then they all do a craft based on the story. The teacher has drawn the owl’s face and body on card for everyone, but they have to color it in and try to write a message on the owl’s tummy. Charlie writes “Owl always love you Mommy” in purple crayon – his mother’s favorite color.

The next part of the craft is very hard. They have to trace the outline of their hands onto card, color it in, and then cut it out. They stick the hands onto the owl with glue, and fold them over, and it looks kind of like wings. Charlie is very proud of himself, because he did it without any help, and unlike the boy who sits next to him, he didn’t try to eat any of the glue.

At going home time, he presents the card to his mother. She glances at it, and puts it in her handbag.

“Do you like it, Mommy?” Charlie asks, but she doesn’t say anything. Maybe she didn’t hear him.

The next morning, he finds it in the trash.

Oh.

Well, it wasn’t very good, he realizes. His coloring wasn’t neat enough, and one of the thumbs was missing because of a mishap he had when he was cutting it out. Maybe if he’d tried harder, she would have liked it.

Maybe if he tries harder, she’ll like him ...

Charlie is eight.

Valentine’s Day has been the main topic of conversation on the playground ever since the beginning of February. It’s not like anybody ever talks to Charlie, but there are some advantages to being invisible. He hears everything. He knows exactly who is getting a Valentine, and – most crucially – who isn’t.

On the night of February thirteenth, he stays up very late. It isn’t like anyone is checking what time he goes to bed anyway, so he pulls together the materials he’s “borrowed” from his teacher over the past few days, and works until the early hours of the morning.

The next day, everyone in the class has at least one little handmade card on their desk by the end of the day.

… except Charlie.

And that’s one of the disadvantages of being invisible.

Nobody knows he exists ...

Charlie is thirteen.

According to his research, it is puberty that has turned the majority of his classmates into mindless, giggling idiots. Thankfully, he seems to be immune to this plague, and the hours he spends staring at the long, golden hair of the girl who sits in front of him in class is perfectly normal, thank you very much.

Melissa is the prettiest girl in the class by far. Charlie thinks she looks just like an elven queen ... if Galadriel had a Midwestern accent and a mother who was the head of the PTA. She is also constantly accompanied by a group of four uglier girls, who all stare at Charlie as he makes his approach, the poem he wrote for her clutched in a hand that seems to be permanently sweaty these days.

She accepts the token of his affection with the carelessness of one who is accustomed to such things, and doesn’t even say thank you. At lunchtime, Charlie overhears her reading excerpts of it to her gaggle of friends. She tosses her lovely, blonde hair back, and laughs scornfully, before tearing it up into tiny pieces and leaving it on her lunch tray for the cafeteria staff to clear away.

And suddenly, Charlie realizes how ugly she is.

At the end of February, poor Melissa has a terrible accident. One of the teachers finds her unconscious at the bottom of the stairwell hours after school has finished for the day. She must have tripped and fallen down the stairs somehow.

She makes a full recovery, but she never remembers what happened that day ...

Charlie is seventeen.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to the dance?” asks cousin Pat from where he’s leaning in the doorway of Charlie’s bedroom. He’s dressed to impress, and Charlie can smell the terrible cologne he’s wearing from all the way on the other side of the room. “I can wait for you to get changed, I don’t mind.”

“I’m too busy,” says Charlie, staring up at the ceiling. Soon, it will be time for him to turn over and stare at the wall. “And I don’t like parties.”

“I don’t like parties either,” Pat reminds him, fidgeting with the cuffs of his blue button-down. “But you’ll never meet someone special if you don’t leave your room.”

Charlie responds by making a noise like someone being sick, and turns over to show Pat his back. “Bye. Have fun at the shitty Valentine’s dance.” He can feel his cousin’s gaze on the back of his head – can picture the annoying look of concern on his face – but he doesn’t move or say anything, and finally he hears the door close, and then Pat’s footsteps lumbering down the stairs.

Fuck Valentine’s Day, Charlie thinks. Fuck parties, and fuck ever finding someone special.

Charlie is 27.

This might be his first ever Valentine’s Day in a relationship, but he’s done his research into What Women Want, and blown a small fortune on trying to make the day special. A hundred red roses, delivered to Nicole on set. Reservations at the hottest restaurant in town. A pair of Chanel earrings, so expensive he actually choked on his own saliva when they told him the price, and had to be brought a glass of water to help him recover.

At the restaurant, Nicole opens the earrings, and stares at them for a long time. Her expression is completely unreadable, which is usually the case with her. They have been dating for two and a half months, and with every day that passes, Charlie feels like he knows less about her, which should surely be impossible.

“Don’t you like them?” Charlie asks, after the silence has gone on for so long that even the people at the next table have glanced over to see what’s going on.

Nicole closes the lid of the box with a snap, and looks up at him. “So you aren’t going to propose to me, then?”

Charlie blinks. “I – Wait, what?”

And then it all goes south very quickly from there.

The next day, there’s a blind item online about it:

Which C-list celebrity currently filming a procedural drama in New York was seen arguing with an unknown male at a local celeb hotspot last night? With a string of broken engagements already behind her, it looks like this feisty young starlet is single once more after dousing her hapless companion in Veuve Clicquot!

Unknown? Hapless? How rude!

He complains at length about the injustice of it all to the cocktail waitress he brought home last night, after he had sloped off to a bar to drown his sorrows and soothe the burn of his humiliation. Naturally, she has nothing to add to the conversation – having passed away six hours or so ago – but he appreciates her presence nevertheless. So much so that before he prepares her for disposal, he takes out her fake diamond earrings, and replaces them with the Chanel ones.

“I know I’m a day late,” he tells her. “But … happy Valentine’s Day.”

It’s the thought that counts, anyway ...

And then ...

Charlie is 37.

He is awakened at 5:30 a.m. on Valentine’s Day morning by his son barging in to the master bedroom. Without saying anything, Henry climbs onto the bed next to him, and falls asleep almost instantly. Charlie throws an arm over him, in the hopes of stopping him from tossing and turning like he often does.

Behind him, there’s a rustle of sheets “What’s happening?” Kitten asks, her voice thick with sleep.

“We have our usual Sunday morning visitor,” Charlie mumbles. “It’s still early, go back to sleep.”

A leg hooks over his, an arm curls around his middle, and Kitten lets out a happy sigh before falling asleep again.

Charlie closes his eyes, but it barely seems like a moment has passed before he’s being shaken awake by a very excited Henry. “Dad. DAD! Can we give Britt the card now?”

The digital display on the clock says eight, still an ungodly hour to be awake on a Sunday, but when Charlie rolls over, Kitten is already sitting up against the headboard, with her phone out. “A card?” she says, feigning surprise, as though she wasn’t banned from the kitchen for four hours the previous day, and hadn’t noticed the layer of glitter Henry was covered in when he emerged, which necessitated a dreaded bath.

“If we must,” grumbles Charlie, astonished at the speed with which Henry scrambles out of bed and sprints out of the room. He thunders downstairs, in search of the spot where they left their work of art to dry out after its completion.

Charlie rolls over onto his back, and stares up at Kitten. “Remember last year, when we stayed in bed all day?” he asks, mournfully. “That was the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had.”

“Mm, same.” Kitten leans down to kiss him, probably intending it to be just a peck on the lips. But Charlie wraps his hand around the back of her head to keep her there, deepening the kiss until a gagging sound from the doorway interrupts them and they break apart to find Henry watching them from the doorway, looking slightly green.

“You guys are gross!” he scolds them, in a tone not dissimilar to Sandra when she is upset about something.

Charlie sits up, and scowls. “That’s not in keeping with the spirit of the day.”

“The spirit of the day is chocolate,” says Henry, approaching Kitten’s side of the bed, with one hand behind his back. “Ta-daaaaa!” he shouts, and pulls out the card, waving it in her face. A hefty sprinkle of glitter falls on the sheets, and Charlie winces.

“This looks very impressive,” says Kitten, glancing sideways at Charlie to check his reaction to the glitter, and stifling a smile. “Can I take a closer look?”

On closer inspection, the card is very large, and is a rather well-drawn and extremely glittery looking owl which looks to be a combination of about three different species. Its wings – which look suspiciously like the outline of Charlie’s hands – are wrapped around itself.

“Open it, open it,” says Henry, climbing onto the bed, and bouncing slightly, causing more glitter to be dislodged.

When Kitten carefully opens the wings, she finds another, smaller pair of hand-shaped wings underneath. “Yours?” she asks Henry, who nods vigorously. When she opens those, there is a ridiculously tiny pair of hands underneath. One has been colored blue, and the other pink.

“Little B,” says Henry. “We looked up online how small their hands would be. I drew them, and Dad cut them out. He said we should do one hand in each color since we don’t know whether Little b is a boy or a girl yet. And wait, there’s a message. Read the message!”

“Owl always love you,” Kitten reads, her voice trembling slightly. “From Charlie, Henry and Little B. Oh Henry, thank you! The owl, the hands, the sweet message. It’s perfect!”

She pulls Henry into a hug, which he tolerates for a moment or two before asking, “Can I go watch cartoons now?” with all the tact typical of an eight year-old boy.

“It was all Henry’s idea, of course,” says Charlie, once the young man in question has bounced out of the room. He tries to brush some of the glitter off the bed, and succeeds only in getting it stuck all over his hand. “I was but an unwitting accomplice to this madness.”

“Is that so?” asks Kitten, with a smile. She sets the card on the nightstand so she can see it, and curls against Charlie, who wraps an arm around her shoulder, and rests his other hand on her stomach. “You know, it reminds me of this book I read when I was little. About an owl who was searching for love. It was a really cute story.”

“Never heard of it,” says Charlie, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “But it sounds like a real hoot.”

“Oh god, not the owl puns.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” says Charlie, but somehow he finds himself lapsing into silence instead of releasing the string of dreadful jokes that are on the tip of his tongue. “Do you -” he begins, and then sighs, and runs his hand through his hair, inadvertently spreading multi-colored glitter quite liberally through it. He chews on the inside of his cheek before continuing. “Do you really like it?”

Is it good enough?

Am I trying hard enough?

Do you like me?

A gentle hand against his cheek brings him back to the present. “I don’t just like it, I love it,” Kitten reassures him. “And I love you very much, too. I know it’s a little rough at the moment with me working from home, but I’m still feeling very lucky. Who would have thought six months ago that we would be here? We’ve come so far, Charlie. I’m so proud of us. I’m so proud of you. Especially now you’re back in therapy again.”

Charlie holds her a little more tightly, and she tucks her head under his chin and settles her hand on his chest, over his heart, which is beating too quickly for his liking. “I’m trying, my love,” he says softly, taking slow, deep breaths to try to control the speed of his heart. “I never want to let you down again ...”

He closes his eyes, breathes in Kitten’s familiar, comforting scent, and tells himself that he’s just holding her, not clinging to her. I’m okay, he tells himself, over and over again. We’re okay.

I just have to try harder, and it will all be okay ...

#valentine's day #tw: bad parenting #tw: assault #tw: implied murder #B+C #direnightshade #tw: pregnancy #tw: angst #glitter should have a trigger warning

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fanficimagery · 5 years

Text

Ba-by Vlog doo doo, doo doo doo doo

Summary: Imagine being part of the inner circle of friends that's known as the Vlog Squad. You've known Zane the longest, but his friends became yours instantly when introduced. You've been there for them through all their ups and downs, so you're not exactly surprised when they insert themselves into this next chapter of your life.

Words: 4.7K Warnings: Language.

For the passed few weeks you've felt like utter crap. You've had no energy, you were constantly nauseous, and the small bean growing in your womb caused a big fight with your boyfriend of three years that ended with him walking out on you.

Your friends have been calling and coming over to check on you, but you weren't in the mood to hang out, especially while they filmed their bits because it usually involved something outrageous and you didn't want to chance being hurt.

But apparently, Zane has had enough of your excuses.

[unlock ur door. omw.]

You had sighed at his text, but did as you were told. Then falling back on the couch, you awaited his arrival.

Fifteen minutes later, your front door is being opened.

"Baby," Zane groans. "What is you doing? It's three in the afternoon, you're still in pajamas, and you look like death."

You smile weakly at him. "Love you too, bitch. And I'm tired. I haven't been feeling well."

"Well get up and get showered. We're having a kick-back at David's and everyone misses you."

"I don't know, Zane. I honestly don't feel so good."

"It's because you've been cooped up alone all week. Now come on!" He steps around your couch and grabs your hands, he then yanking you into a standing position.

The moment you get your bearings and inhale deeply, you get a whiff of something that upsets your stomach. Gulping down the sudden rush of saliva in your mouth, you lean back with a grimace. "Zane, is that- why do you smell like bacon?"

"Because I got hungry. Duh."

"No, Zane," you say, stepping away from him and covering your mouth and nose with your hand. "I can't- back away. "

You cough and gag, and turn to rush out of the room. You've barely made it to the bathroom, falling to your knees and throwing open the lid to the toilet before barfing your guts out. You stay there until you're done vomiting, only to flush the toilet and fall back on your butt.

Zane is standing in the doorway, expression curious. "Y/N, what's going on?"

Shakily wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, your eyes tear up as you meet Zane's gaze. "I-I'm pregnant."

A beat passes and then the most brilliant smile takes over his expression. "Oh my god! My baby is having a baby!?" Weakly grinning, you nod and then stand to rinse your mouth out at the sink. After doing so, Zane pulls you into a careful hug. "Is that why you haven't been hanging with us?"

"Yeah. Well that and the fact that Dillion split after hearing the news. Apparently having a baby was too much for him."

Zane tenses and when you pull back to look at his expression your heart softens towards your friend. "I'm going to kill him."

You huff. "No you're not. He's long gone by now. Probably went back home to his mother in Texas."

"I can't believe that asshole!"

"What's done is done. Let it go."

"The others are going to be pissed, Y/N. I can't believe you kept all this bottled up."

"Let me tell them," you say. "The pregnancy has to be kept under wraps until after the first trimester is over, but the news about Dillion.."

"Yeah. Okay." Zane glances around and then, "Why wait until after the first trimester? How long is a trimester?"

"I'm a bit superstitious," you shrug, smiling sheepishly. "The first three months of a pregnancy are crucial. This is the time where chances of a miscarriage happening are at its highest. I don't want to tell everyone I'm pregnant and then something happens, and then everyone is walking on eggshells around me."

Zane hums. "I get that. But three months? I'm gonna die keeping this secret!"

"Shut up." You playfully swat at him, but then quickly backpedal when you get a whiff of bacon again. "Jesus. I've only known about the peanut for three weeks and he's already turned me against bacon. I really hope he or she doesn't make me eat weird shit."

"I don't know about you, but I'm excited to see you hormonal and crying at every little thing."

"Fuck my life," you groan. "This is gonna be a tough three months. Our friends are gonna be suspicious as fuck."

"Yeah they are. Now go get dressed and drive your ass to David's. I would drive you, but I don't want you barfing in my car."

"And if I barf at David's?"

Zane shrugs. "Food poisoning? If they ask about your absence, just admit to the breakup and make up an excuse about not processing it as quickly as you thought."

"You know what? That's actually not a bad idea."

"Obviously."

"Don't gloat. Now get going. I'll be there in half an hour."

"You better or I'm gonna stir the pot and convince the boys to fly out to Texas to confront Dillion."

"God you suck. Go. I'll be there."

The first three months pass fairly easily. The morning and afternoon sickness is easily remedied by your doctor, and now the sonogram picture weighs heavily in your hoodie pocket.

Zane has been a good friend through it all, he helping you keep the secret while keeping your friends all focused on what a dillhole your ex had been. But now it's time to come clean and you're on your way to pick up Zane who had asked beforehand if he could document your pregnancy.

As Zane settles in the passenger seat, he mounts his camera to the dashboard. "Are you ready for this?" He asks.

"Not really, but I'm tired of making excuses for not drinking and sleeping all the time."

"Alright, so just like we planned." He turns the camera on and after giving you a reassuring nod, you paste on a smile before both of you look towards the camera lens. "Hey guys, Zane here and today's video is going to be a little different. As you can see, Y/N is here with me and I'm sure you've all been wondering where she's been since she hasn't been in anyone's vlogs."

You wave at the camera. "Hey guys. Sorry for going awol on you, but I'm back and I've got some news to share."

You grin over at Zane and he practically beams towards the camera. "We're pregnant, bitches!"

You snort and swat at him. "I'm pregnant. Zane's just super excited and has been a great help these past few months."

"Girl, whatever. That baby is gonna be calling me daddy. Just you wait and see."

"God I hope not."

"Uh," he scoffs. "Rude!"

"Shut up. You still love me." He hums and you take over explaining the next bit. "Anyway, today's the day I'm finally telling my friends, but we're only going to record the ones I think we'll get a reaction out of."

"Josh Peck, obviously," Zane muses. "Then David, Natalie, and Jason."

"Carly and Erin."

"You also wanted to record Kristen, but she, Scott, and Todd are still on tour."

"I know." You pout. "I'll tell everyone else, but I'm not sure they'll be as excited and I don't want to record them and have it be awkward."

Zane laughs. "I can just picture Ilya blinking and not knowing what to say."

"Right?!"

The two of you laugh and then taking a moment to calm down, you say, "So yeah. That's what we're doing today."

"Oh! Show them the sonogram."

"Oh yeah." Pulling the picture from your pocket, you hold it up to the camera and Zane helps you so the camera can focus on the image. "That right there is the little peanut. I seriously can't wait until I can find out the gender. Zane wants me to do a gender reveal party, but I don't know."

"Uh.. were doing it, baby. No ifs, ands, or buts about it."

"I swear it's like he's the pregnant one sometimes."

"Mhm. So, viewers, sit back and relax, and let's get to telling people we're having a baby!"

"Oh my god. You're too much."

Instead of turning the camera off, Zane lets it continue to record with promises to chop down the footage when in edit.

Then as you're driving over to meet Josh at the hotel he's currently staying in while he's in town for a few photoshoots, Zane gets you talking to the viewers about your current situation and why he's taken it upon himself to help you out. You end up crying when talking about your break-up, but Zane cracks a few jokes that soon have you laughing.

At Josh's hotel, you grab one of the gift bags from the trunk of your car and Zane leads the way up to Josh's room. Once there, immediately seeing the camera, Josh's eyes narrow.

"What's going on?"

You and Zane laugh. "Nothing. I got you a present just because and Zane wanted your reaction."

"Uh huh. I'm not gonna open it and be attacked by bees, am I?"

"No."

"Okay. Good." Josh leads you towards the couch and you take a seat next to him while Zane sits across the two of you. "So what's the occasion?"

You shrug and hand over the bag, but before josh can open it, you say, "All of you guys have supported me while I've been going through this post-breakup funk and I just.."

"Just open the goddamn present!" Zane urges.

You snort and in retaliation Josh sluggishly pulls the ribbon off the bag handles. When Zane makes a noise of aggravation, Josh laughs and then pulls out the tissue paper. He reaches for what's inside and he's barely fully opened it before a beaming smile blossoms. "No!"

"Yes," you laugh, tears already filling your eyes.

"Really?" He asks, then reads the personalized indie aloud, "Plot Twist! Coming January 2020."

"Oh my god. Congratulations!" Josh hugs you, clearly excited. He gets even more excited when Zane hands over a sonogram. "Look at the little peanut!" He coos. "How far along are you?"

"First trimester is officially over," you say.

"Yeah? Who else knows?"

"Well besides baby's deadbeat dad, I was the first," Zane says. "And you're second."

Josh's smile falters, his gaze subtly darting to the camera before settling back on you. "It's okay to ask. Zane's documenting the good, the bad, and the ugly."

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts. "So I'm guessing Dillion didn't take the news well?"

"You'd be correct. We were having problems before I found out the news, but a surprise pregnancy really wasn't in any of his future plans."

"I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," you assure Josh, wiping tears from your eyes. "He took some time to think about what he wanted to do and baby Y/L/N will be solely mine when he or she is born. Dillion plans to sign away all his rights."

"Oh man." Josh reaches in for another hug and you sniffle into his shoulder. "Whatever you need, just let me know. I'll help you out as much as I can."

"You really don't have to, but I appreciate the thought."

Zane turns the camera off, setting it aside. "Okay so that's one friend down," he muses. "Who's next?"

"I don't know. Lets see who's available?" You bring forth your phone and immediately start texting your friends, side-eying Josh who keeps smiling at the onesie in his lap. You receive a few texts back, grinning. "So Carly and Erin are at David's. Looks like I can kill four birds with one stone."

You then bid Josh farewell, promising to keep him updated with your pregnancy and to call should you need anything. You let Zane take over the driving and end up at David's in no time. But instead of heading inside, Natalie waves you over towards the Tesla where they're getting ready to leave. So after grabbing four gift bags from the trunk of your car, you head on over while Zane rearranges everyone in the Tesla. Carly and Erin are moved into the back seats, Natalie is seated with you in the middle, and Zane sits in the passenger seat while David drives.

"Okay so what's the big deal?" Erin immediately asks as Zane films everyone present.

"Just hold on a few more seconds," you say while passing out the gifts. "You all have to open them at the same time. Well not David because he's driving, but I'm sure he'll know soon enough."

"Enough chatting and open the gifts!" Zane says.

The girls all laugh at his anxiousness, but they open the gifts nonetheless. You see when they pull out the onesies and unfold them, grinning as you see Natalie read hers and it takes a moment for it to click: And so the adventure begins. January 2020.

"Shut the fuck up!" Erin screeches from the back seat. "You're pregnant!?"

"What?!" David's head snaps in your direction as Zane cackles, but then he quickly stares back towards the road. Instead, he looks to Zane. "I'm gonna be an uncle?"

"Is this a joke?" Carly asks

"Nope. The eggo is preggo." You pull out the sonogram and pass it around. "I'm now four months along."

"Look at Natalie," Zane laughs. "She's crying!"

"You better stop those tears right now!" David jokes, glancing at his best friend-turned-assistant. "You're gonna make the pregnant lady cry!"

"Too late."

"I'm sorry!" She laughs, wiping her tears. "It's just- you're pregnant." Natalie beams, her excitement shining through her eyes. "We're gonna have a baby!"

"Uh excuse you," Zane scoffs. "You are not having a baby. We're having a baby," he says while gesturing between himself and yourself.

"Wait, what?" Carly exclaims and you sigh.

"You really need to stop telling people that you're my baby's father." Without even having to look around, you know your friends are curious about who the baby daddy really is. "This pregnancy is why Dillion and I broke up. He intends to sign away his rights."

"Oh fuck him," Erin immediately huffs.

You crack a smile and let Natalie grab your hand to squeeze. "Hey. Whatever you need, all you have to do is ask. We're here for you."

"Yeah," David says. "That kid of ours is gonna be spoiled as fuck."

The entire car laughs and you flash them a smile. "Thanks, guys."

The camera gets turned off and Zane turns around in his seat. "Okay so where are we going because our last surprise for the day is Jason."

"Uhh, nowhere in particular," David says. "I just wanted to drive."

"Well drive on back to your house because we need to get Jason's gift and take it to him."

"Oohh. What did Jason get? Or did we all get the same thing?"

"No. Josh got a onesie that said plot twist and the due date beneath it. You guys got the adventure onesies, Jeff got a shirt for Nerf that proclaims Nerf the cool older cousin."

"Aww!"

"Todd, Scott, and Ilya got bottles of Vodka, but the label on them says do not open until I am born. January 2020."

"And Jason?" David wonders.

"Jason got the most heartfelt gift," Zane chuckles. "Even I teared up when Y/N showed me."

"It's because I actually do have a father/daughter relationship with him. I know it started off as a joke, but it actually cemented into a familial bond. So I framed a sonogram in a picture frame that says hello, grandpa on top and I can't wait to meet you on the bottom."

"Dude," David says. "He's gonna cry."

"Counting on it."

SIX MONTHS PREGNANT

Walking into David's house, you can't help but smile at the all the pink and blue. It's the day of your baby's gender reveal, Natalie having set it all up since she was the one entrusted with the envelope from the doctor.

Out back there's a chalkboard where everyone's writing their names under whether they think the baby is a girl or boy, pink and blue cupcakes, pink and blue candy, and pink and blue balloons.

Everyone's dressed in white and the way the whole reveal is going down is that everyone will split into two groups and stand on either side of you. Then armed with confetti cannons, they're going to pop them so that the colored confetti arches over you. All the while, David and Zane are going to be recording and taking pictures.

"Wow. You've gotten fat." The words surprise you, however, the person they come from doesn't. Jonah.

"I'm pregnant. What's your excuse?" Those within hearing distance snort and laugh, and you grin at your friend. "Don't fuck with me, Jonah. My hormones are up and down, and my comebacks are meaner."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't mess with preggers. I got it."

You shake your head in amusement as he walks off, one hand resting on your hip and the other absentmindedly rubbing your stomach.

"Wow. You've really popped." Jeff joins you then, expression soft as he gently hugs you in greeting. Out of everyone, he was the one to surprise you the most. He had taken it upon himself to change your diet after finding out you were pregnant, and even got you exercising to keep you and baby as healthy as can be. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm good," you tell him. "I'm really excited to find out whether I'm having a son or daughter."

"Do you have a preference?"

"Nah. As cliché as it sounds, I'll just be stoked as long as he or she is healthy."

Jeff grins. "Nerf's little cousin is going to be perfect. Just you watch." Your baby kicking startles you and makes you wince, and you rub the spot you felt it at. Jeff continues to watch you. "You know, I never understood why people are obsessed with touching someone's pregnancy belly, but now I think I understand."

You chuckle at him. "Do you wanna feel? Baby is kicking right now."

He glances at you in surprise before slowly nodding. Then taking his hand, you press it to where the baby is more active and watch his facial expression showcase his awe. "That's freakin' crazy, man."

"Try being the one experiencing it. The first time I felt the kick, I started crying. Not because I was happy, but because it freaked me the fuck out. Jason had to console me." You laugh as you remember calling Jason to ask him if what you felt was normal. He obviously wasn't a woman, but he was married before and experienced everything with his now ex-wife.

"Hey! If Jeff gets to rub the belly, so do I!" Heath marches up, swatting Jeff aside and placing his hand where Jeff had his. Seconds pass and his eyes widen. "Holy shit!"

"I know."

"Alright, bitches, gather 'round!" Zane shouts, recording. Next to him, David follows with his own camera. "If you haven't written down your name under whether you think the baby is a girl or boy, do so now. David's decided to make things interesting."

"Yes because finding out the gender of my baby wasn't interesting enough," you deadpan.

"Shut up. Yes it is," Natalie says, coming up beside you and shoving Heath away from your stomach.

"So the way things are going down," David starts, "is that whoever guesses the right gender wins a thousand dollars."

Your friends cheer, with the exception of Natalie who can't play because she already knows what you're having, and after the hype has gone down it's time.

Standing out in the middle of the back yard, you wait patiently as your friends split up. Heath, Mariah, Natalie, Corrina, Josh, Jason, and Matt stand on your left while Scott, Kristen, Carly, Erin, Todd, Jeff, Jonah, and Ilya stand to your right. Everyone anxiously waits with their cannon in hand, and then Zane and David count down.

"Three.. Two.. One!"

The cannons pop.. and pink confetti rains down.

There's screaming and shouting, and tears immediately fill your eyes as you laugh joyously. Erin, Matt, Todd, Josh, Jason, and Jonah are more excited than the others- they being the ones who had guessed you were having a girl.

"Baby, you is having a baby girl. How are you feeling?" Zane asks, camera in your face.

"Like I'm gonna barf," you laugh. "Holy shit. I'm having a girl!"

NINE MONTHS PREGNANT

For the last hour and a half, you've been washing and folding baby clothing for the umpteenth time, and repacking your hospital bag. Lately you've been in the nesting stage and your friends found it rather hilarious.

Just after you've placed the hospital bag atop the changing table and have taken a seat in the rocking chair, a rather intense cramp causes you to lightly groan and cradle your stomach. You've been cramping since early morning, but you're still two weeks away from your due date so you think nothing of it.

Natalie soon enters the room, smoothies in hand. "Let me guess," she says, "you've been washing again."

You grin tiredly. "I feel so restless," you tell her, accepting your banana drink. "Thank you."

"No problem." Natalie then takes a seat on the floor, her back against the open door as she glances around the nursery. Each piece of nursery furniture was purchased by your friends and assembled by a professional. David, as a present afterward, got a mural of the entire gang painted on the wall and peering down into the crib. Half the group thought it was creepily hilarious, but you found it rather endearing. "So what's on the agenda tonight?"

Still rubbing your stomach, you hide your grimace behind the smoothie cup. "I, uh, I actually think I need to go to the hospital."

Natalie's head whips in your direction. "What?"

"I've been cramping all morning and thought they were Braxton Hicks," you admit. "But they've only gotten more painful and closer together."

"Holy shit, Y/N. Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because if you freak out, I'm gonna freak out. So stop freaking out!"

"O-okay!" Natalie quickly stands, taking a moment to center herself. "Has your water broken?"

"No." Your voice wobbles, but you quickly gulp down the knot forming in your throat. "Am I- do you thinking I'm overreacting?"

"Nope. But whether these contractions are the real deal or not, I rather have the nurses look you over and decide themselves."

"Agreed."

"Yeah. Okay. I'll just- I'll grab the bag." Natalie walks over to the changing table and shoulders the bag's strap. She then walks over to you and helps you out of the rocking chair. "I'll drive and you make the phone calls to everyone."

You hiss in pain. "Sounds like a plan."

- X - X - X - X - X -

Waddling back and forth in your hospital room, you mentally curse your option to not have an epidural. Natalie has been a trooper, calling and texting your friends to let them know this was the real deal. You can't have too many people in your room before the actual labor takes place, so everyone plans to visit for a few minutes and then rotate with the others. For the birth, though, Natalie and Zane were staying.

"Knock! Knock!" The door opens and in walks David, Jeff, Zane, and Jason.

"Oh fuck you and your dumbass smile." The boys all laugh and Natalie hides her smile behind her phone. After all, she's been the sole target of your mean remarks since you've been admitted so she's just happy to see someone else targeted. "God I hope your daughter doesn't inherit your meanness."

"I'm so sorry," you tearfully apologize to David. "But if I hear your laugh one more time, I'm gonna punch you in the face."

"Aw baby," Zane coos. "Have they given you anything for the pain?"

"She decided against the epidural," Natalie advises them.

"Wait, what?" Jason asks. "Seriously?"

"I heard stories," you mumble. "The cons outweighed the pros, so I told the doctor I didn't want it."

"God you're brave," Jeff huffs. "I've heard horror stories."

"Not. Helping," you grit out when yet another contraction hits. Hissing, you stop pacing and bend over the side of the bed. Natalie rushes over and starts to rub the small of your back as you start to cry.

"And that's our cue," David says. "We'll send in the next group. Erin and Mariah are super stoked."

"That's because they're not the ones pushing a baby out of their vagina!"

Zane sticks around, planning to record part of the birth, but also knowing full well that he and Natalie are to stay near your head. You don't plan on having any vagina shots on film or picture.

- X - X - X - X - X -

Thirteen hours.

Thirteen long excruciating hours and baby Wren Y/L/N has finally entered the world.

Natalie and Zane held your hands throughout the entire birth, letting your insults slide off their backs when their encouraging voices grew aggravating. Natalie took pictures and videos for Instagram when baby Wren was placed on you directly after being pulled out, and Zane excitedly cut the umbilical cord when asked if he wanted to. Baby Wren was then taken away to be cleaned up, weighed, and measured, and your friends gave you some privacy for the after birth and clean-up.

Now your two friends are dozing on and off in some recliners the nurse had wheeled in, and you're curled on your side as you stare at your sleeping baby in her bassinet right next to your bed.

A gentle knock sounds on the door and it opens to David's grinning face. "Can we come in?"

"Yeah." You tiredly wave him in. "Just be quiet."

The rest of the gang enter behind him, pink balloons and teddy bears in hand.

"Oh my god. She's adorable!" David gushes, already filming Wren as she sleeps. "Jesus, Y/N, you're a mom."

"Total MILF," Todd giggles. Kristen rolls her eyes and swats him upside the head. "Ow! What? I was joking."

"Whatever. Keep it in your pants, Toddy. I doubt Y/N is looking to get pregnant anytime soon."

"Try never," you muse. "Giving birth fuckin' sucks."

"But it's totally worth it. Right?" Mariah asks, touching Wren's tiny hand.

"Eh."

"Can we hold her?" Jason asks.

"Yeah. Go ahead. The nurse should be back in, in a few. It's close to her feeding time anyway."

Jason picks Wren up, gently cradling her in his arms. Seconds pass, and David and Jeff start to snicker at Jason's sniffling. "You're already loved so much, you have no idea. Welcome to the Vlog Squad, kid."

Everyone softly laughs and then take turns holding your baby. She grunts and yawns, and sucks on her tiny fist, and she has everyone wrapped around her tiny finger in a matter of minutes. As your own eyes then start to droop, they flutter back open when you feel a weight settling next to you on the bed.

"Hey, David."

"Hey, Y/N. How are you feeling?"

"Like I pushed an eight pound baby out of my vagina and haven't slept in forever."

He chuckles. "Just wait until you're all healed up. You'll look back on this day and say it was all worth it."

"I don't know about that, D. There's still months of Wren waking up every three hours demanding the tit. I don't know how I'm going to handle it."

"You'll figure it out. You always do," David says. "And when you're feeling overwhelmed, call someone. Everyone loves you and Wren, and I'm sure you'll have no issues finding a babysitter."

"Yeah. I guess you're right." Wren lets out a brief cry and you glance over at her, only to be met with Jeff's panic-stricken expression. "Quick! Someone snap a picture."

Your friends all laugh at Jeff, which only upsets Wren even more. She cries louder, but the sudden knock on the door and a nurse walking in causes your friend to sigh in relief. "Feeding time!"

"Alright, losers," you muse, slowly sitting up, "that's your cue to leave. Jeff, hand over Wren."

Jeff walks over and cautiously passes you the baby, he then lingering to brush his thumb over her brow. "She really is something, Y/N. Congratulations."

"Thanks, Jeff." As your friends all walk out with quiet reminders that they'll be back later after you've bonded more with Wren, you stare down at your baby tucked into the crook of your arm. "Well, kid, I would say it looks like it's just you and me, but I'm pretty sure all your aunts and uncles would say otherwise. Grandpa Jason was right. You have no idea just how loved you already are."

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