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halloweenhoneylover · 4 years ago

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the closing shift

summary: coffeeshop au babey!! spencer and reader are nerds in love who also work at the campus cafe together (spencer reid x fem!reader)

word count: 2.7k

author’s note: this one’s for u, anon!!! sorry if this is lame, i normally don’t like coffeeshop au’s but here we are. also a warning: there is a lot of doctor who junk in here and also it’s incredibly self-indulgent but i don’t care :)

“So what you’re saying is you don’t like the power of love and human goodness?”

Spluttering frustratedly, Spencer frowned at you, “Of course, that’s not what I’m saying. I just think that the special effects were cheesy and the plot was sometimes a little silly!”

You narrowed your eyes at him for a moment before relenting with a sigh, focusing back on the counter you were wiping down. “Okay, fine. I’ll admit that the Slitheen really did not look good, and that maybe ‘Love and Monsters’ was one of the stupidest episodes of television I’ve ever watched, but you have to admit that Ten’s monologue in ‘The Satan Pit’ was one of the best pieces of writing in the whole show. ‘If I believe in one thing, I believe in her?’ How were you not screaming at your TV when you watched that!”

Spencer lips curled into a small smile as you continued rambling and absent-mindedly cleaning the counter. You were not doing a very good job, but he wasn’t about to stop your spiel. It wasn’t often he was on the receiving end of a ramble, and as someone who was frequently told to shut up, he would never interrupt, especially when it was about his favorite show. Especially when it was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. No, he’d sit quietly and listen, thank you very much.

“Okay,” she brought her full attention back to Spencer. “I’ll forgive you for your horrible offence. If you take back what you said.”

She looked so intently in his eyes, so sincerely his knees wobbled a little. The full force of her attention was like the sun. He felt warm inside and out, but he might be burned from the intensity of its direct glare.

“Fine, season two of Doctor Who is not a complete abomination.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up in a satisfied smirk. “Well, thank you, Dr. Reid. I appreciate the kind words.”

He nodded, turning to the back room. He’d almost made it through the doorway before he muttered just loud enough for you to hear, “But season eight is better.”

A melodramatic gasp, and he felt a rag hit the back of his head, and he chuckled.

“You take that back, Spencer Reid!”

Making his way further in, his fingers found the knot behind his back, quickly untying and shrugging off the apron. “(Y/N), I only speak the truth. I’m a man of science, and science says that season eight is simply superior.”

You laughed along with him, murmuring grievances against this idiot genius. You reached behind yourself, fingers fumbling with the knot. After a couple unsuccessful attempts, you huffed and asked, “Hey, Spencer, do you think you could help me with my apron? I tied the stupid thing too tightly.”

He gulped, mumbling a sure thing in a way he hoped was nonchalant, but knowing himself, was anything but. Walking up behind you, he felt himself involuntarily shudder at your proximity, and he said a silent prayer to a god he didn’t believe in to try to keep his cool. You felt his fingers brush against your lower back, and you tried, gosh, you tried so hard to not audibly gasp (you’re not sure you succeeded). The brief contact unfortunately flooded your mind with thoughts about his long fingers that you had often admired (discreetly), and you thought about what it’d be like for him to touch you and for him to mean it, and you nearly passed out. The silence was deafening, which was funny because it seemed like you two could never shut up around each other, and the one time you needed to fill the tense air with something, there was nothing.

Finally finished with the knot, Spencer softly tapped your back twice with his index. “All done.” It came out as a whisper. He couldn’t have managed more.

“Thanks!” You spoke at normal volume and tried to put you back into regular conversation, but breaking the eerie quiet, it sounded like you were shouting.

He shot you a tight-lipped smile. “Are you all good to close up?”

“Yeah, I can hold down the fort,” you said rather breathlessly, returning his smile.

Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he pushed open the back door and waved. “See you Thursday!”

“See ya.”

As soon as the door shut, you heaved a sigh of relief and let the tension out of your shoulders, staring at the ground. You dug the heels of your palms into your eyes. Why did you freeze up like that? Why was it weird when he left? Why did you like him so much?

———

Thursday was Spencer’s favorite day of the week. The dining hall stocked chocolate donuts with rainbow sprinkles on Thursdays. He had his chemistry seminar with his favorite professor on Thursdays. Caltech’s chess club met on Thursdays. He worked his shift at The Campus Grind on Thursdays.

(You worked the same shift at The Campus Grind on Thursdays.)

Did Spencer really need a job? No, his education was entirely paid for by the school because when you have a child prodigy on your hands, you should try to keep them. And he lived in on-campus housing and ate on campus, and he didn’t have a lot of other expenses. But his advisor told him that he might get something out of doing a job that didn’t require 100% of his brain power, might get to rest his mind for a couple hours every week. He might also make a friend.

What he had not anticipated when he started at one of the various campus cafes was meeting you. He showed up to his first shift and nearly choked when he saw arguably the most beautiful girl he had ever met in the backroom putting on an apron. Your eyes lit up when you saw him. “Hey, you must be Spencer! I saw our names together on the schedule a couple times, looks like we’re gonna be work buddies!”

By the time you turned back to speak to your guys’ new manager, he noticed his jaw was completely slack, and he hoped his mouth had not been hanging too long. He also blacked out too long to ask for your name, which he was internally hitting himself over. And he hazily drifted through the training, his mind barely focusing on the coffee. To say he was distracted by the girl next to him and the way she smelled like coconuts and cotton was a major understatement. Times like these were humbling for a twenty-year-old with two and a half PhDs.

He could barely recall anything that happened until they were cleaning out the espresso machine together silently, and he was struck with a sudden need. “Hey, I never caught your name…”

“Right! My name is (Y/N),” she answered, offering him a grin.

“It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

Neither spoke after that, both working quietly next to each other. Spencer sighed internally, he wasn’t sure what he expected, but he hoped they wouldn’t spend the semester in silence. And like some higher power was listening to his wishes, you turned to him, “So, Spencer, what are you majoring in?”

Hesitant to scare you off, he tiptoed around the subject. “Right now, I’m studying chemistry.”

“Right now?”

He glanced over at you, and despite knowing you for the entirety of ten minutes, he couldn’t deny you or the inquisitive gleam in your eye even if he wanted to. And he didn’t want to. “I’m working on my PhD in chemistry. I already have two in mathematics and engineering. Oh, and I have two BA’s in psychology and sociology.” He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at the dumbfounded look on your face, and he swallowed harshly. “Um, uh—what uh, what are you studying?”

You let out a brief laugh, and for a moment, he cringed, wondering if you were laughing at him. But just a look at you and the tenderness of your features, he knew he had nothing to worry about. Blowing a puff of air out, you grinned gently, “Well, your PhD’s are putting my bachelor’s to shame, so I’m not sure I want to say.”

“No, I’m sure whatever you’re studying is cool,” he reassured you.

Pleasantly surprised by the humility of your new genius coworker, you continued, “I appreciate it. I tend to err on the side of the humanities, not much of a STEM gal myself, and right now,” you both chuckled at your little joke, “I’m studying history and political science.”

“So am I standing in the presence of a future lawyer, or maybe the next president of the United States?”

“Good question, but I’m not sure. Would you vote for me?”

Squinting at you for a moment, he nodded slowly, “Yeah, I think I would. You’ve got a kind face.”

You raised your eyebrows at that, trying to suppress a blush. “A kind face?”

“Yeah,” he hummed, eyes flicking over your face. You felt shy under his gaze; it’s not everyday a hot genius boy stares you down and tells you you have a ‘kind face.’

Ducking your head, you fought a smile. “Alright, I’ll take it.”

And from then on, something clicked. You and Spencer talked for hours and hours during your shifts, joking and teasing (and grinning and blushing). He looked forward to working because that meant a chance to see you. (Except for Mondays, that was the one shift you didn’t have together, and it made Spencer want to scream. The dude he worked with, Andy, was nice enough, but the hours seemed to drag on when he didn’t have you to discuss weird sci-fi movies with.)

He was particularly looking forward to this Thursday because he knew you had a big presentation in your class about African revolution, and he wanted to hear all about it. In the brief moments of spare time at the cafe, he had helped you prepare and had listened to bits and pieces of it. This morning he’d sent you a quick good luck! text, to which you’d responded with thanks!!! and a stream of various heart emojis. He had learned early on that you were very fond of emojis, but it never stopped his heart from skipping a beat when you’d send him little hearts and smileys.

Entering the back room, he set his backpack on a hook and started to get ready for his shift. He gave a quick wave to the people from the last shift as they left, and he felt a little worry boiling in his gut because if they had left, that meant you were late, and you were never late. He wondered if something had happened in your presentation, and he was filled with dread. Solitarily manning the counter, he was ensnared in his thoughts; he couldn’t stand the idea of something going wrong and you being upset, so upset that you couldn’t come to work. He shifted uncomfortably, hand itching to grab his phone and send you a text to see if you were okay when he heard a door slam and a shriek from the backroom. “Spencer!”

Immediately, he ran to the back, expecting the worst, and he nearly fell over when you ran at him full-speed to launch into a hug. “Oof—” He recovered though, catching you, and he wrapped his arms around you so tightly and cradled the back of your head in his hand. His heart stuttered. He could get used to this.

You buried your face into his neck. “Oh, Spencer, you won’t believe it. My presentation went so well! My professor held me after class and told me I was one of his brightest students, and oh, I just don’t believe it!” He felt your face warm against him as you gushed.

“I believe it, I don’t doubt it for a second. You are so smart, (Y/N). I’m so proud of you. You deserve it.”

Breathing him in for just a moment longer, you finally released him, and both of you thought how everything feels a little emptier now that you weren’t holding each other. He couldn’t help but beam at you, though.

“Really, (Y/N), I’m so proud of you.”

“Hey, I can’t take all the credit! It’s all thanks to you being patient enough to hear me blabber on and practice, so thank you, Dr. Reid.”

He got incredibly flustered at the title and hesitated over his next words before settling on a soft anytime. And he meant it.

———

The rest of your shift that day was less eventful. You recounted some of the highlights of your presentation, to which Spencer listened with rapture. There was some discussion of who was at chess club today and if anyone there was a true match for Spencer (no one was). You played your favorite game called “Who Can Make the Most Disgusting Drink Out of Four Ingredients?” (You won with a mixture of coffee, coffee grounds, an excessive amount of salt, and raspberry syrup. (Ew, (Y/N) why is it grainy?)) And now nearing midnight, you sat at one end of the bar reading your textbook while Spencer cleaned up various mugs and napkins. He snagged the broom from the backroom and began sweeping. With a quick glance up at you focused entirely on your book, he smiled softly. Pieces of your hair had drifted out from behind your ears and framed your face, and the apples of your cheeks were flushed. To put it simply, you looked ethereal, and Spencer didn’t think it should be possible for someone to look so beautiful at the end of a long day, but here you were, always defying expectations. He thought you looked like someone from those Renaissance paintings you loved so dearly, but he knew that even if someone tried to commit your grace to canvas, it’d be to no avail. He was sure no one would be able to do you justice.

Looking down at the floor he was supposed to be sweeping, he let his thoughts wander farther. He thought about what it would be like to hold you everyday like he did today. He’d be the luckiest man on Earth, that’s what. For so long he thought about asking you out, but then he knew that someone like you would never be interested in someone like him. But then again, you were the impossible girl. You never did quite what he expected. And he never expected you to be into him. So maybe for once in his life, he’d go out on a limb and ask you if you wanted to go get dinner with him sometime. He’d take you to the Indian place on 12th that he knew you loved, and you’d sit in the oddly formal, always empty restaurant and laugh and giggle together because that’s what you always did together, and then maybe, he’d invite you back to his place, so you could watch Doctor Who, or maybe do other things (like hold hands), who knows?

He found himself praying to that god he didn’t believe in once again to find the courage as he finished up sweeping, and after he put the broom away, he walked up to you with butterflies running rampant in his stomach, so he could barely muster a glance at you. But he was going to finally do it.

“(Y/N), I —”

And that’s when he noticed that you had fallen asleep on your book. It had been a long day for you. He felt his heart grow tender and soft and if someone poked it, it very well might explode. His thoughts strayed to your conversation the other day and the quote you loved so much. I've seen fake gods and bad gods and demi-gods and would-be gods, and out of all that, out of that whole pantheon, if I believe in one thing, just one thing, I believe in her. He takes a step or two closer, and brushing a lock of hair behind your ear with the gentlest hand, he thinks, yeah. I believe in her.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #do people read things at 2 in the morning?#lets hope so!#bc that's the only time i write :)#my sleep schedule is not :) good :)

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gukyi · 5 years ago

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the wedding planners (post-script) | jjk

summary: you and jungkook stopped keeping secrets from each other a long while ago, but when you go out to dinner to celebrate a friend’s third wedding anniversary, they may all start to bubble up.

{married!au, pregnancy!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff word count: 2k warnings: alcohol mention a/n: a big thank you to @moonb0yy for commissioning this from me and for contributing to the#blacklivesmatter movement!!! i had so much fun revisiting the most iconic couple this blog has ever produced, and this sneak peek into their lives was the cherry on top!!

Yoongi has never been big on fancy celebrations or over-the-top parties, even if his wedding was both of those things combined. Nor is he as hellbent as his husband, Hoseok, on commemorating each and every possible anniversary there is for them to commemorate, from first meetings, to first dates, to first kiss, and everything in between.

Still, wedding anniversaries are special, and, if Yoongi’s being especially honest, he’s never one to turn down a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant, surrounded by his friends and his gorgeous, gorgeous husband.

Which is exactly why you’re sat in a high-end Asian fusion restaurant in the center of the city, an old brick building renovated about a decade ago, a mix between contemporary and antique, celebrating both the success of your exhaustive wedding planning endeavor three years ago and the triumph of, above all, love.

Hoseok and Yoongi like to keep their friend group small and their dinner bill reasonable, though, so you aren’t sitting at this gregariously long table where the people on each end have to scream to talk to each other, instead mingling at a round table with one of those Lazy Susan’s in the middle, everyone sharing dishes and laughing.

“Our one-year is coming up soon,” Jungkook leans over and whispers in your ear, hands interlocked beneath the table. “Wanna do something like this?”

“Mmm,” you muse happily, tickled by the feeling of his breath along your skin, “maybe. Or we could just spend the whole day in.”

“I like the way you think,” Jungkook responds with a grin, giving your hand a squeeze. You don’t care what you do for your first wedding anniversary, whether it be an elaborate party (unlikely) or nothing at all (more likely), so long as it is spent with him. Not a day goes by where you don’t thank every higher power for blessing your life to be forever intertwined with his own.

Hoseok says something outrageous and makes the rest of the table laugh, including the waiter, before ordering a healthy two bottles of rosé for the table with the promise that everybody will have a drink.

But when it arrives, and the waiter comes to your side to reach out for your glass, you say, “Oh, none for me, thanks,” earning yourself plenty of bewildered stares from the table.

“You alright?” Jungkook asks, brows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you say, shrugging it off as the waiter moves to serve Suran. You meet Hoseok’s eyes, see his positively skeptical expression, almost as if he isn’t believing what he’s seeing.

“Did I order the wrong thing?” Hoseok asks, an eyebrow raised.

“No, no, I’m just not feeling it tonight,” you say, a pitiful excuse as to why you aren’t helping yourself to a harmless glass of rosé. “You know how I get with alcohol.”

“Okay…” Hoseok says, suspicious, even if the rest of the table has forgotten about your blip. Jungkook’s already gone back to chatting happily with Yoongi as you play footsie under the table, and you suppose that he’s the one you’re most worried about finding out.

In hindsight, perhaps an Asian fusion restaurant wasn’t the best choice of dinner location after all. Hoseok and Yoongi are sushi fiends, frequently ordering takeout from the local Japanese place two blocks from their apartment complex, and while you are normally all for your California and spicy tuna rolls, tonight is most certainly not the night. Here, the dishes are meant to be shared, transported around the table courtesy of the Lazy Susan in the middle, and you find yourself unwilling to eat about half of them.

Not that there’s any shortage of food, because there isn’t. You’re certain that Hoseok and Yoongi will instruct everyone to take home a hearty serving of leftovers—but that won’t do you very much good either.

When Suran offers you a plate of sashimi, everyone passing it around as you help yourselves, you shake your head, immediately handing it off to Jungkook who doesn’t question it whatsoever and placing two on his plate. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Hoseok staring at you again, eyes narrowed in disbelief. Perhaps it’s just the fact that you’ve known Hoseok longer than you’ve known anybody else at this table, but he always seems to be able to read you like a children’s book.

Eventually, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, having downed two glasses of ice water out of pure nervousness, getting up from your seat and quickly shimmying to the restrooms.

Inside, you dampen a towel with water and press it against your forehead and the nape of your neck, hoping it will somehow cool down the blood that is racing through your veins, burning up your skin. It’s not much, but it’s a little bit of relief.

When you leave, you nearly wet yourself when you see Hoseok standing outside the door, hands on his hips as he glares at you.

“Are you pregnant?” He asks, never one to beat around the bush.

“What the hell, Hoseok?” You say in return, hand on your chest as you try to catch your breath.

“You aren’t drinking any alcohol and you aren’t eating any of the sushi. Are you pregnant?” He repeats.

You wince. Were you that noticeable?

On the bright side, it doesn’t seem like Jungkook’s caught on. Not yet, at least.

“I might be?” You respond awkwardly, not wanting to get neither Hoseok’s nor your hopes up. “I’m not sure, I have a test at home that I haven’t taken yet. But I just wanted to be safe.”

Hoseok’s face lights up, mouth opening into an unrestrained smile. “Oh my God, you totally are!” He cries out, making you lean down to shush him. “Oh my God, will Yoongi and I get to be their godfathers? Have you thought of names? I think Hoseok if it’s a boy and Yoonji if it’s a girl—”

“Hoseok, calm down,” you say, reaching out to grab onto his wrist before he jumps out of his shoes. “I don’t even know for sure yet.”

“You better know by tomorrow,” Hoseok says, and that’s a threat. “I expect results tomorrow morning, no later. You better take that damn test when you get home tonight.”

“I will, I will,” you say, voice trailing off as you feel your nerves come back, sending you into a tizzy.

“Whoa, what’s wrong?” Hoseok asks, voice laced with worry.

“It’s just—” You begin, but you don’t know what words to say. “Are we ready for this?”

Hoseok’s expression softens, lips curving up into a fond little smile. “Are you kidding me?” He asks. “I’ve never met two people more in love than the two of you. As long as you stay by each other’s sides, you’ll be ready for anything.”

Here’s hoping Hoseok’s right.

Later that night when you return home, Jungkook heads straight for your kitchen to put away the plastic containers of leftovers in the fridge as you sneak into the bathroom, grabbing the pregnancy test from the undersink cupboard that Jungkook never checks and nervously opening the box, fingers shaking.

Three minutes later, you have your answer. There’s no room for error, either, because the test you bought will either flat out say pregnant or not, no blurry lines or crosses. You nearly break down completely when you read the word.

You are pregnant.

“Princess?” You hear Jungkook’s voice call from outside, presumably sitting on the couch as he fishes through the late-night television, looking for something to put on in the background as he answers some emails. “You alright in there?”

“Fine!” You shout back, voice wobbly. You are clearly not fine.

“You sure? You been in there a long time!” Jungkook checks again.

“Yeah, coming out soon!” You say. Quickly, you clean off the test and open the door, palms so sweaty it takes you a couple of times to get a grip on the knob.

Jungkook’s sitting on the couch, computer on his lap as he mindlessly scrolls through his email inbox, perhaps a little too hazy on rosé to feel like responding to any work-related requests. He looks golden in the warm yellow light of your apartment, at home. He belongs here, he does. He always has. And he always will.

“Is everything alright, Princess?” He asks, eyes still trained on his laptop screen.

“Yeah,” you say shakily, making him turn to you. Your eyes are already swimming and you haven’t even said anything yet, taking nervous steps towards him as your lip quivers.

“Oh my God, what’s wrong?” He asks, dropping everything and standing up, wrapping his arms around you as he pulls you into a hug, letting you press your nose into his collarbone.

“N-Nothing,” you tell him. “I just have something to,” —hiccup— “to show you.” Wordlessly, you hold out the test, watch as he furrows his brows in confusion before he realizes what exactly it is you’ve got in your hands.

“No,” He says, letting you go so you can turn to face him.

You sniffle, offering nothing but a weak smile.

“Are you serious?” He asks, face lighting up like New Year’s Eve. “Like, really, really serious?”

You nod, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks. At the sight of you, Jungkook also starts to cry, pulling you in and planting a great big kiss on your lips, hands wrapped around your waist before eventually moving to hold your stomach, palms flat against your belly.

“You’re pregnant,” he whispers into your ear, like he can’t even believe it himself, the two of you swaying in the middle of your living room.

“I’m pregnant,” you assure him. He presses another kiss to your cheek, your nose, and then your lips.

“Do you know how much I love you?” He asks, filled with joy and fondness and love. It’s hard to believe that he’s yours. It’s even harder to believe that you get to spend the rest of your life with him. “I love you so, so much. You and our child. I love you both.”

Our child. You like the sound of that. You grin, smiling against his lips. “I love you, too.”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook au #w: the wedding planners

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writing-for-me-at-this-point · 5 years ago

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iv. Relationships w/ MC | Obey Me | Actor AU

Request: Hello! I saw that your ask box is open, so I have come bearing a request. I found ur blog thru your OM actor au and I adore it to bits. Your interpretation of the characters was delightful and the gag/bloopers had me laughing so hard! May you please expand on the au by sharing your relationship headcanons of how the cast interacts or feels about MC (platonic/romantic)? I hope this finds you well 💖💖💖

Word Count: 3225 words

Page Count: 9.2 pages

A.N. Hope you guys enjoy this!

Tags: @weebartistinc

[ M A S T E R L I S T ]

Lucifer / Benjamin

The relationship between Benjamin [ Lucifer ] and MC would more like master and apprentice. Think of RDJ and Tom Holland. Ben is more lax than his show counterpart for sure. Where Lucifer would be prideful, Ben is humble, where Lucifer is smug, Ben can be self conscious. I'd like to think the MC of the "real world" thinks much more logically, doesn't throw themselves into things head first and is more calculating. Maybe something more like Satan?

Between the two of them, they are lax and playful, throwing inside jokes and playfully fighting. Ben [ Lucifer ] is like the "cool dad" that loves to mess around with his kids, which makes sense because he does have his own, they are fairly young and I can see MC babysitting in case it was needed. There's a deep trust between the two that can't really be described. Ben really wants MC to prosper in their career and will guide them- but he doesn't want to baby them either, he wants them to test the waters on their own. If they ever get overwhelmed he's there for them though.

His dumbass is forgetful to check his sugar as well, so you can catch MC helping to remind him to check it/eat/drink if needed. He didn't have the most welcoming background- he didn't have the support system a child needs, so he strives to be that and forgets to care for himself often.

"I want to give my kids everything I never had and more, just like how I want it for you too, MC."

Mammon / Avery

Avery [ Mammon ] is very business oriented and formal. MC and him would get along well, like their Obey Me counterparts, but just more lax and less chaotic. I see them as the type to go on coffee dates to catch up and get away from it all, seeing as how famous he is, he often likes to find smaller and less well known places to dwell. Enjoys the small and peaceful moments with MC and they can relate with being the most famous of the cast- so they often get treated the same.

I can see them having a deep platonic and familial connection while also being distant. Avery has trouble opening up due to being frequently used for his money, and though he and MC are on the same playing field, he has his moments where he needs to back away and recuperate. And though he is distant, if MC or himself were to ever need anything, they're at each other's beck and call. Think of the relationship as: MC is the younger sibling that was born like... 10 years after Avery and he is the older brother, they are distant at times, but still love each other deeply and fiercely.

"MC, what do you think of this new script- who is that on your page? They're liking too many pictures at once... a bit desperate- don't you think?"

Leviathan / Jackson

This one... is a little complicated. Really- he's a fuck boy and he doesn't care. I can see him as very... objectifying- and not just sexually either. He can see how to use someone to their fullest advantage, but only for his sake, just for to further himself or satisfy any needs he has. MC is a playful flirt, but once Jackson [ Leviathan ] starts to pull the moves, I can see MC pulling back quickly and isolating away from him. Until there is a serious moment where Jackson can prove that he can provide something meaningful to the relationship- it's going to remain cold and formal. MC isn't playing games.

This can be one of the few relationships that, if managed properly by MC and Jackson [ Leviathan ], can make their relationship to a more friends with benefits type or something romantic. Jackson [ Leviathan ] needs to learn how to stop seeing people as tools and more like... people. MC, in turn, would need to learn boundaries for themselves. They'd probably be so used to accepting people that keeping Jackson at a distance would be weird and almost foreign to them. If they both want things to work out for a proper, and healthy, relationship- it's going to be a lot of work.

"MC, come here, I need you for something. Hm? No, no- nothing like that. I thought maybe... we could just hang out? Normally?"

Satan / Ross

Honestly? MC could do better than Jackson [ Leviathan ] and Ross is it, babes. He is definitely the most understanding of MC and takes their own emotions into consideration. Wow kinda like Satan. He still does those live streams and gets smacked on a couple of grams, so MC is there either smoking as well or just getting hot boxed, their tiger dyed cats running everywhere. The live stream then turns into a kitten purring ASMR, then eventually, everyone is asleep on a live stream together. Ross [ Satan ], is a sweetheart as well, remembers the little things about MC and will make them special gifts or gestures for them. Is the type of boyfriend to leave random kisses on them just because.

Ross [ Satan ], also likes to talk, so he does like to pick MC's mind and see how they think- which in turn touches their heart because WOW. A guy they like isn't using them or being a general ass? He doesn't play around, so if you want a relationship prepare to be in something for the long haul, family affairs are now your business as well. He is super close with his younger brother Dmitri [ Luke ], so you need his approval as well. Ross also can help with building confidence and a stronger self image, but a major downside is that he is lazy, like, he is really fucking lazy. He's tired though, with his job, the animal shelters, watching his brother, and avoiding... them- he wants to just be a homebody. MC does a lot of home dates, but they end up very fulfilling because it's Ross, he knows how make make even the smallest moments feel like everything.

"Look at ya, MC! Damn, you always have me fallin' for ya all over again."

"I'm in sweatpants and a tanktop, babe, nothin' special."

"And you make 'em look fine as hell. Now come 'ere, let's watch a movie, look-! An MC sized space is here, right between my arms, neat right?"

Asmodeus / Micheal

He's like the best friend who acts like the wine mom. He's the wine mom. He's mom. Always come to him for help, from either something as small as a rant to larger issues like contracts and relationship advice. This a more platonic/familial relationship that MC would develop. They can delve into more personal and private conversations, confident Micheal has the best intentions and advice, and in turn MC helps him out with what their generation is up to these days.

Pinching MC's cheeks? Yeah, it's a ritual at this point. Likes to joke that MC is actually his illegitimate child. He also invites them to his vlogs, taking MC out at 2 am to Wendy's and talk about the most random stuff. Maybe hint at new things that are upcoming on the show. He writes TSL, not Alex [ Simeon ], so MC will help him with plot and point out any plot holes as well.

"MC, hon, take a nap. You're tired and haven't slept well. I got you food too- no, not Wendy's, actual food. Eat that and go sleep, alright?"

Beelzebub / James

This can be another contender for a romantic relationship! James [ Beelzebub ] is one of the few actors who is pretty similar to their character, so if you love Beelzebub, you love James, sorry I don't make the rules. It's law. He is still new to the acting scene, so unless MC was an actor as a child as well, they'd bounce tips off one another- things they learn from whoever takes them under their wings. In MC's case, Benjamin [ Lucifer ] is their mentor, and in James' case, Alex [ Simeon ] is his mentor.

He's very thoughtful, understanding, and compassionate. But, he is a bit of an airhead at times, or he often gets lost in his own head. This is due to him trying to think things through, he gets anxious and wants to perform well in every aspect of his life, so he tends to overthink and try to fix his problems in his head. MC will help him with opening up and stilling his mind into calmer waters. He feels the weight of his family, seeing as he now makes the most, he feels like he should be taking care of all of them- even when they tell him to just enjoy his life as it is. MC would realize he's a family man, so this would be another relationship where commitment is expected, James would rather not just have something casual due to how hectic things in his life get. He also is often with Dmitri [ Luke ], watching him and making sure he's okay, because if his younger siblings were in the same situation, he'd want someone to look out for them too. Dmitri is in love with both MC and James, often messing around or just relaxing with them of Ross [ Satan ] isn't around, so their often known as the "Realm Trio" due to their characters each being a different race.

"I'm fine, really! I was just... thinking, that's all. I'm happy, really I am, and I want everyone else to be as well. That's it."

Belphegor / Conner

MC definitely becomes more chaotic with Conner, he's a sweetheart, but damn can he not sit the fuck down. He can be a bit draining for MC if they aren't in the best of moods, and even then, he just holds this light that makes them happy or feel peaceful. Another romantic/platonic relationship that can happen. This is a relationship where no matter how old they get, what is going on in life, how overwhelmed they feel, MC and Conner [ Belphegor ] will always manage to laugh.

He is clumsy, especially with the tail, so MC will worry over him on and off set. He is very humble, and grateful for every opportunity he gets, so he faces each day with a smile and the classic southern hospitality- where you say thank you after everything, help anyone even if they aren't struggling, all with a southern drawl that makes MC melt. This is the healthiest relationship to exist, due to how easy Conner can communicate with MC and how MC can pick up on things he might not, there isn't any big issues because they both can just talk it out. Even if it doesn't end up romantic- it's still one of the most fulfilling relationships MC and Conner will have due to just being... them.

"It's so easy, being with you, and I love that. Loving you is never painful, never tough on me, it's always so... light. So perfect, like you."

Barbatos / Thomas

Oh my god. He is an absolute ass. He is like the uncle you never wanted, always sarcastic, roasting someone, but in the end he means no harm. MC and him definitely have a darker sense of humor together, getting either morbid or just downright weird, and no one else can decipher that the fuck they're saying because there's too many inside jokes and little intricacies. In the end, he is a ride or die, may not be the best to work with- but MC is now family and Thomas [ Barbatos ] will now kill for them. Congratulations on the achievement!

Will not allow MC to go to openings or any large events alone, and even if they have another cast member with them, he still keeps an eye on them. He gets anxious, and almost paranoid, his younger sister went missing years ago and never got closure. He see's MC not as his missing sister, but as someone who is in need of that older brother figure, and wants to take that role because it feels so natural. He still ends up as that cool asshole uncle, but he likes that too, as long as MC is with him. There are times where MC will need to help him through some issues, just by being a shoulder to lean on, and in turn they get closer. Thomas didn't expect to get close with many people on the cast, other than his old friends, and taking MC into his family was a surprised for all.

"Come here, ya annoying ass little kid, give me a hug! What! Come here or I'll chase you around his big ass house, MC!"

Diavolo / Roman

MC can be the romantic partner for Roman if you'd like, but I just remembered that I made him have triplets, so unless MC is his partner and willing to have kids, Roman would end up as another Uncle/Father figure. If you go the romantic route, Roman is so deeply in love with MC he will sometimes feel empty of he doesn't tell them he loves them everyday. He is attentive, watchful, and optimistic, always bringing fun into the relationship and making MC feel fulfilled and overflowing with love. But, now with the triplets? Love bomb x10, he loves MC with all his soul, he does, but now he realizes the kids come first and appreciates that they do the same. Prefers to be more private though, won't post whatever he does with the kids or anything like that, he doesn't want spotlights on his children when they never asked for it.

A more platonic/familial relationship though? Best. Man. Ever. Always taking MC out to eat and keeping up with their needs, doesn't baby them, just keeps a watchful and caring eye. Does this with all the younger cast as well. MC will feel loved, safe, and in harmony. He is a wine dad though, so MC will often bring him drinks so he can unwind, even make cocktails time to time just for practice and will make sure to give any tips he can. MC gets a little too tipsy at a party? Well, since he knows where the party is, shoot him a call and he'll pick his 6'5 ass up outta bed to bring MC either to their home or his.

"I've got you, always have, always will. I won't ever let you down, because you deserve the world and all the happiness in it, I just hope I can even be a little piece of it. A reason to make you happy."

Luke / Dmitri

MC is close with Dmitri no matter what, he's always on set, and MC can't seem to let him leave their sight. Kinda like a parent at the park. Won't exactly just stare at their kid, but will always know where they are, and make sure their within a safe distance. Hollywood is full of some sick fucks and MC will be damned if they'd let anything happen to Dmitri. He gets overwhelmed sometimes, will cry and shake, due to holding in stress from the public. MC will teach him how to cook, rather than bake, because food always brings people together and he wants his family to be together in any way he can do it.

Spending time with him means spending time with Ross [ Satan ], so MC ends up close with Ross anyway, and will often be filling up Dmitri's Instagram and other social medias. He is the younger brother MC never had and is ready to be another older sibling for him. If the show goes on for multiple seasons, then it will be set in stone, MC and Luke will be a found family along with the rest of the cast.

"Thank you for everything, MC. I love you, really, and I want you to be as happy as you can be! You're the best and more!"

Simeon / Alex

Alex [ Simeon ] is another potential love interest/ close friend. This is the only other relationship that can compete with Ross [ Satan ] and Roman [ Diavolo ]. He is known for his temper, but usually plays it up for comedy, and will never actually "blow up" on anyone that isn't deserving of it. He is a sweetheart, but has a tendency to be materialistic, due to his rich upbringing. He knows material things aren't the answer, but it's a habit/mentality he's working on fixing. He prefers to be more affectionate in private, because he wants to enjoy intimacy with MC without the eyes of the public on them, not because he would want to hide their relationship.

He is intelligent as fuck, so MC will be filled with the knowledge of the gods, always learning something new and living a student life that isn't more of a student- but someone that has a love for learning. You know Leonardo in Ikevamp? Yeah- that bitch. That's Alex. Even as a friend MC and Alex would always confuse people due to how close they are, which can be annoying if they are with another cast member, but in the end they know the truth.

"Ah fuck, MC, I'm trying to cook here, ya dork! Don't yank me around the kitchen! Hey! Loving me isn't an excuse to squeeze the life outta me! MC! Don't run now!"

Solomon / Derek

So, I honestly had Derek [ Solomon ] as the original love interest, going with the childhood friend trope. MC and Derek would be the ultimate set of goals, and living a fantasy life that most people dream of, the thing you'd see if those overly fluffy fan-fictions. Derek is the more caring and nurturing of the two, while MC is more outgoing and aggressive, and manage to find a happy medium between them. Derek has a calming aura around him and yet is the most socially awkward one in the cast- he will put Leviathan's character to shame with some of the things happened in the past. MC is the biggest tease and will have him flushing like a virgin school boy- and it isn't even sexual, he just flusters easily.

With Lovely and Blue, MC and Derek are known as the babysitters and pet sitters, and are often looking out for the casts pets and children whenever they need it. The couple everyone wants to end up like. You will never see them in scandals, drama, or anything of the sort- even if they become household names, Derek and MC prefer to keep the details of their lives lowkey. I can't see major issues in this relationship, romantic or platonic, because after knowing each other so long, they can communicate in their own ways.

"Blue, stay stiiiiiiiiill. Fine, leave. MC, come here, I need a pillow and Blue won't love me. Thank you- oh! Now you come, Blue? Jealous much?"

#obey me actor au #om actor au #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me imagines #obey me x you #obey me x mc

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carewyncromwell · 4 years ago

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“It's just like déjà vu, me standin' here with you, So I'll be holdin' my own breath -- Could this be the end? Is it that moment when I find the one that I'll spend forever with?”

~“Gotta Be Somebody” by Nickelback

x~x~x~x

In 1941, the vampire called Bat Varney was murdered by the dark wizard Grindelwald for aiding the resistance movement organized by Ministries across Europe. Bat left behind many friends, including Danny Gibson @catohphm and the Selwyn-Ellison family @that-ravenpuff-witch -- but the person most devastated by Bat’s death was his most constant companion, Atticus “Grim” Grimsley @cursebreakerfarrier. Never in his life had the retired professor considered that he’d be the last one standing, out of the two of them -- and in his last days on earth, just before he died peacefully in his sleep at a ripe old age, all that he wished was that he might see his first true friend again. Little did Atticus know that -- in his last moments alive -- Bat had made a similar wish...praying that maybe he and his mate Grim could meet again someday, somewhere where Bat didn’t have to regulate how much or how long they touched...maybe even with his real face...as Robert.

About a decade after Professor Grimsley’s death, the only son of a well-respected Pureblood family started his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and was Sorted into Ravenclaw house. The boy -- appropriately enough also named Atticus -- wasn’t particularly popular at school, given his hyper-focus on his academics and on satisfying the high standards of his father. Not only was Atticus expected to bring his family honor and esteem, but he also had a rival at Hogwarts who he was expected to “outdo.”

Bartholomew “Barty” Gilbert (pronounced “JO-behr”) was the only son of an up-and-coming Pureblood family who’d just emigrated from France and made a lot of money investing in robe shops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade alike. He was also now a Gryffindor in Atticus’s year, and Atticus’s father was very firm that Atticus not let the boy surpass him in anything. Although Atticus normally obeyed his father with a certain degree of reluctance, in this case, he didn’t like the thought of losing to Barty Gilbert either. Not because the Gryffindor wasn’t pleasant -- no, in fact, he was almost too pleasant...too amiable, too inoffensive. And that made it so that even though Barty got away with doing whatever he wanted without worrying about his family’s expectations, it only served to earn him more friends and admirers. Even before that, though, when Atticus had met Barty in passing before school, he still couldn’t help but dislike the other boy. There was just something off about him -- something Atticus could hardly put into words. It was like whenever Barty opened his mouth, he sounded wrong -- whenever he smiled, it looked wrong...even his eyes weren’t as they should be. There was something almost familiar about Barty’s auburn hair, face, and height -- and yet something was wrong. And it just made Atticus upset for a reason he couldn’t really explain. It reminded him of those times, when he was a very small child, when his mother would try to comfort him after he woke up sobbing and could hardly explain why. Something about someone with red eyes squeezing his shoulders, tears streaming down his face and laughing like his heart was breaking...

So Atticus was determined to throw himself into his studies and do everything expected of him. Just because Gryffindor Golden Boy Barty Gilbert refused to do things the right way didn’t mean he shouldn’t -- and Atticus knew karma would eventually go his way in the end, if he put in the proper work. It didn’t mean that he didn’t still sometimes feel somewhat resentful every time Barty Gilbert waved to him in the hall, his two best friends at his side. One of them was the most popular girl in their year (of course), another Pureblood witch named Cecelia “Ceci” Crouch -- the other was one of Atticus’s own dormmates, a poor Muggle-born boy who in third year had become Ravenclaw’s Star Chaser named Robert Bellamy. Despite sleeping in the same dorm for five years, Atticus and Robert had really never talked -- Atticus was focused almost exclusively on his studies, of course, but even Robert seemed actively disinterested in talking to Atticus. Perhaps it was because of how much Atticus kept sticking his nose up at his best friend Barty -- perhaps it was because of how much of a stick-in-the-mud Atticus was -- or perhaps it was for a reason Robert couldn’t quite put into words, the same way Atticus couldn’t completely explain his instant dislike of Barty.

One day at the beginning of fifth year, however, Atticus and Robert were forced to engage with each other when Professor Binns inexplicably decided to actually assign a paired homework assignment. (A possible result of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore casually reminding the History of Magic professor of a similar assignment he’d assigned his OWL class back in the days when he was still alive.) Although Binns of course didn’t remember any of his students’ names, he nonetheless paired Robert with Atticus. Neither of the Ravenclaws was particularly pleased, but none of them was the type to actively argue or complain.

After class, Atticus approached Robert outside the History of Magic classroom. Robert told Barty to go on ahead to the Great Hall and that he’d catch up. Once Barty was gone, Atticus uncomfortably questioned Robert about when they could meet to work on their oral report on the Witch Hunts of the 14th century.

Robert frowned slightly, his well-toned arms crossing casually over his chest.

“Hogsmeade weekend starts tomorrow,” he said placidly. “You occupied then?”

Unlike the rest of his classmates, Robert wore his bronze-trimmed blue Quidditch robes over his disheveled uniform, instead of his usual black school robes. Atticus couldn’t help but wonder if Barty Gilbert’s buddy just liked to remind everyone that he was one of Ravenclaw’s Chasers.

Pushing this faintly condescending thought aside, Atticus shook his head. “No -- I’m available.”

“Good. Meet me at the Three Broomsticks and we can talk there.”

He turned on his heel as if to go. Atticus couldn’t help but sputter and he quickly rushed in front of the other Ravenclaw to stop him from walking away.

“What is there to talk about? We need to get started right away!”

Robert raised his eyebrows. “Tomorrow isn’t soon enough for you?”

“The project’s due on Monday,” said Atticus seriously. “We’ll need to spend a good deal of time at the library, if we want to be prepared -- ”

“No need,” said Robert with a shrug. “I already know everything we need to know.”

Atticus couldn’t keep himself from quirking a disbelieving eyebrow. “Oh really? Robert Bellamy, slacker jock who always dozes off in History of Magic, knows enough about the Witch Hunts of the 14th century to get us an O on our oral report? Somehow I doubt that.”

Amazingly Robert didn’t react with anger -- instead his black eyes turned very cool.

“The Witch Hunts really can’t be narrowed down to just the 14th century,” he said in a very level, matter-of-fact voice appropriate to a professor. “Not only did the ‘witch hysteria’ phenomenon last well into the 18th century, until the Age of Enlightenment, but there was a lot of set-up beforehand that laid the groundwork for it. Witchcraft, specifically black magic, was considered illegal even in ancient times -- the Romans considered it a capital offense. And of course one can’t ignore how early Christians demonized pagan beliefs by associating them with witchcraft, hence why images of the Devil came to embody traits associated with the nature god Pan. The Witch Hunts of the 14th century largely came about because a bunch of Muggles got their knickers in a twist about an increased interest in necromancy and herbal remedies among the poor, spurred on by the printing and circulation of older Islamic texts. The fact that many of those people who had the most use for those herbal remedies were women -- frequently mid-wives -- scared the church as well, of course, given the sexism of the time. And of course when bad things happen and there’s no explanation for it, people love to find a scapegoat. Add a text like the Malleus Malificarum that tells the terrified masses all of their problems are the fault of evil witches to the mix, and Incendio -- you’ve got yourself a bonfire.”

Atticus was completely sideswiped. He caught himself staring with his mouth open, and quickly closed it.

“That...well...”

He felt very sheepish. His ears burned -- his mother would’ve been scolding him if she were there, for jumping to conclusions like that.

“...That’s really impressive,” Atticus said self-consciously. “Forgive me, I...I was very rude, just then.”

He brushed a loose piece of his dark brown bangs out of his eyes.

“...How did you even know all that? I don’t recall Professor Binns ever saying -- ”

“I doubt he did,” said Robert. Once again he didn’t seem the least bit offended by what Atticus had said and was currently grinning cheekily. “I got my hands on the fifth year History of Magic syllabus from an older student before term started. I went to the Muggle library and borrowed a whole stack of books about the Witch Hunts so I could read them over the summer.”

Atticus blinked. “Muggle books? But -- but wouldn’t that information be incomplete?”

“In some ways, yes. But honestly, magical history isn’t much better that way -- it leaves plenty of stuff out.”

“I suppose it does -- but Professor Binns expects you to know what he teaches too. That’s why he does those lectures.”

“And puts the whole class to sleep,” said Robert with a snort of laughter.

“That’s beside the point,” said Atticus firmly. “It’s good that you studied the material so thoroughly -- very admirable, in fact -- but there is a right way to do things, and falling asleep in class when your professor’s trying to teach you will only make it harder for you to get top marks.”

Robert shrugged. “Guess I don’t see the need to regurgitate my professor’s lessons like a parrot. And how do you know I don’t already get top marks? I don’t remember you ever asking to see my grades.”

Atticus faltered. “Well -- it’s just -- I never see you study.”

“Probably because you never leave the library,” said Robert with a rather mischievous smile.

The words were an unpleasant barb in the corner of Atticus’s chest, and his eyes narrowed to hide the slight hurt he felt. Noticing the shift in the other boy’s expression, Robert immediately put down all trace of humor.

“Only joking,” he said defensively. “Crimey...you really are too grim for your own good...”

As soon as the sentence had left Robert’s mouth, there was a strange, silent ping that seemed to ripple through both young men’s ears. The word “grim” had hit Atticus in the heart stronger than anything else Robert had said. The young Pureblood had stiffened sharply, and his expression tensed further when he realized that Robert too seemed to have suddenly gone oddly pale.

Did...did the word affect him too? Did he also find it so strangely, frustratingly, achingly familiar? Why?

The two stared at each other, both looking incredibly disconcerted. Then Robert, stuffing a hand into his pocket, quickly strolled past Atticus.

“...I’d better go catch up with Barty,” he muttered. His voice sounded oddly calm to Atticus’s ears -- almost evasively so. “Is tomorrow at noon okay?”

Atticus glanced over his shoulder to look at Robert’s retreating back.

“...Yes,” he said quietly.

Robert didn’t turn back around.

“Three Broomsticks?”

“All right.”

“Good. ...Bring some books from the library, if you want. I’m sure Madame Pince will have some suggestions I haven’t read yet. Just don’t tell her we’ll be at the Three Broomsticks -- poor thing would probably throw a fit if we spilled butterbeer on her books...”

With that, the Ravenclaw Chaser departed down the hall without looking at Atticus again.

Atticus didn’t move from his spot in the hall for a while afterward, unable to completely shake the heavy, invisible weight that had settled down on top of his heart.

He’dd only ever felt such a strange, irrational kind of déjà vu around Barty Gilbert before, but this kind...this kind was different, somehow. The feeling that accompanied Barty Gilbert made Atticus feel irritated for no reason at all. This one accompanying Robert Bellamy...it was cold, and yet also so soft at the same time -- like the feeling one has when they hear a beautiful, sad song...or when they wake up sobbing from a dream where someone is squeezing their shoulders, while tears stream down their brokenly laughing face...

#golden era #hphl #atticus grimsley #bartholomew varney #my art #my writing #au #reincarnation!au #OH MY GOD #REINCARNATION TIME BABY #let's give grim and bat a real happy ending shall we?!#I mean sure bat had a lot of happiness in his life before he finally died but he only lived a half-life as a vampire #and this way bat can be there for grim when he's younger so grim can live the life at hogwarts he deserved #without his father's influence looming like a shadow over him the entire time #also yay bat can touch! and actually grow up! and actually be a professor!#I see bat and crew being in cedric's year #so they'll be seventh years when cedric dies and just be starting careers when the wizarding war starts #of course we all know bat would join the order of the phoenix because...duh #but yeah so this means bat flies alongside cho chang!! :D #robert hasn't gotten the nickname 'bat' yet but he will #and of course atticus isn't 'grim' yet -- even in his original canon he only ever was okay with bat calling him that </3 #robert's discomfort around atticus really comes back to him seeming famiilar and yet 'off' too #in this case because grim is supposed to be happy!! he's supposed to smile!! he's supposed to dance and have fun!!#and yet he's this huge stick in the mud that has a beef with robert's BFF -- what's up with that?!#he really doesn't *dislike* atticus at this point but he is uncomfortable and unsure and when bat is uncomfortable he tends to disappear #in all universes bat does not like being uncomfortable or talking about things he doesn't want to talk about XD;;#also yeah bat is smart AF but is the type to only express it when his intellect is useful #he doesn't show off his intelligence by answering every question in class or sharing his grades or going to the library constantly #instead he most often expresses it whenever he's tutoring someone in something or when the knowledge solves a problem #so it's no wonder atticus had no clue that robert's not just a dumb jock XDDD

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aizawaorkuroo · 5 years ago

Text

on the house (chapter 1) - honey cinnamon latte

Ship: Yagi Toshinori x reader

Rated: G

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: All it took was one decision. One small, spur-of-the-moment decision that set off chain reactions. One little, free drink changed your life. It led you to the kindest man you've ever met. Yagi Toshinori.

Warnings: none for now! but smut in later chapters!

AN: Reader has a minor healing quirk! Highkey nervous about posting my writing for the. first time on this blog, but uhhhhh, so be it. Also my first time writing bhna 🥺 Feautres two original characters!

OTH Masterlist

______________

Cool, morning light pours through the large windows of Sweet Bean Cafe. You stifle a yawn as you wait for your cup of coffee to finish brewing. Save for the hypnotic dripping into your mug, silence fills the cafe as you watch the world wake up.

You’ve worked here for quite a while now, but this was still one of your favorite moments of the day. It’s as if a sense of peace weaves its way through the city, despite whatever damage was done over the night. You tear your gaze away from the outside world to fix your coffee. You shut your eyes and inhale deeply, the scent sending a jolt down your spine. You were going to finish this cup before the morning rush, so help you, god.

You sip your drink and continue to watch the city sleepily awake. You finish your cup and look at the cat clock on the wall. 5:40. A jolt of panic seizes you. Twenty minutes before the cafe opens. You turn to look back at the empty kitchen behind you and let out a sigh. Still just you. If Aiko and Suga are any later there’s going to be hell to pay. You’re not paying them to sleep in. You’re sure as hell not paying them to leave you alone during the morning rush.

Anxiety prickles at your stomach as you watch the minutes tick on by. You needlessly adjust the display of baked goods you had already made and set out. Normally Suga would be doing this, and your nose scrunches up at the thought. As you lean on the counter thinking about no other employees would work the opening shift, you hear the back door slam open. Your head dips, and you let out an exhale.

“IT'S NOT MY FAULT! I SWEAR!” Aiko’s bell-like voice rings out through the cafe. You turn and cross your arms, quirking a brow at her. Both of your late employees are standing in the kitchen by the back door. Aiko’s hair is tied back haphazardly, her horns and skin a bright cherry red. She’s breathing heavily, and she drops into a nearby chair. Suga doesn’t look much better, as he leans against the counter, trying to maintain his composure. You roll your eyes.

“I truly thought you were both going to leave me alone for the busiest shift,” you say, faux worry dripping off your words. Suga turns to look at you, a small twinkle in his eye.

“We would never,” he gasps, holding his hand over his chest in fake shock. “There’s nothing crueler than being left alone to open.” Aiko rises to her feet and nods in agreement with a laugh.

“Left alone, to open? You must think very little of us.” False sincerity floods her tone, and you bark out a laugh.

“Okay, okay you brats. Get ready to open.”

While the three of you had mainly been joking, the morning rush is no joke. Mustufu was a busy city. Not only was it full of everything a regular city had, but Mustufu also boasted the esteemed UA High School, and with it came all sorts of people.

You unlock the front door and wait behind the register as you watch the seconds go by on the clock. 5, 4, 3, 2, - a bell rings as the front door opens. You smile warmly at your first customer.

“Good morning! Welcome to Sweet Bean Coffee! What can I get you?”

______________

The first thirty minutes is fine. It lulls you into a false sense of security. It tells you that this is fun, you like this job. But it’s the next hour that always gets you. You and Aiko work the front, while Suga handles the kitchen and baking. Owning this cafe had always been a dream of yours, but it had come at the cost of a lot of hard work.

Paying off your debt had come at the cost of oven burns, scalding coffee, and many sleepless nights spent baking. While you loved to tease them, Aiko and Suga were absolute gifts, and they celebrated with you when you properly owned Sweet Bean Cafe. But it’s moments like this that remind you that the work isn’t done. Actually running this cafe takes time and effort.

The bell rings and you hear Aiko squeal in excitement. You glance at the clock. 7:30. Ah, right.

You turn to greet your regular customer with a smile.

“Good morning Mr. Aizawa! What can I get for you?” He grunts in greeting.

“A black coffee.” The usual order. You can’t stop the small smile that tugs on the corners of your mouth. As you count out his change, Aiko hands him his coffee and beams at him. The first time the Erasure Hero showed up at Sweet Bean, Aiko had frozen. She stared, jaw on the ground, at her favorite hero, as he ordered a black coffee.

He had begun to turn up more frequently and thankfully, Aiko no longer stopped functioning in shock. Instead, she gets almost unbearably excited. You hand Aizawa his change and punch his rewards card with a small smile.

“Good news, next one’s free Mr. Aizawa!” He nods before leaving, offering nothing else but an unenthusiastic wave. You take the next customer's order before shaking your head and turning to Aiko.

“I don’t get it Aiko. He’s so, well, not like you at all.” She laughs as she begins to brew another drink.

“I’m not trying to date him or anything! I just think he’s really cool. We’re lucky to have him as a hero,” she says, sounding sincere for once. You hum in agreement at her words.

The morning rush ends before you know it, and the rest of the day begins to slow down. At around 3:00, Aiko chips her goodbyes before rushing out the door to make it to her afternoon classes. With no other employees scheduled for today, it would just be you and Suga. But after the morning shift, it was nothing the two of you couldn’t handle, especially with Suga in the kitchen.

As business slows, you shift to look outside. A stream of cars and people pass by. Everyone with their own stories and dreams. It's impossible to ignore the content that's growing in you. You sigh softly, a warmth settling itself in your chest.

“What’s up, boss?” You turn to look at Suga, giving him a confused look. “You’re, uh, glowing. Gonna bless more beans?” he asks jokingly. You roll your eyes before looking down at your arms. Sure enough, your body is indeed glowing. An exhale makes its way through your lips as you focus on stopping the warmth that’s trickling through you.

“No, I finished blessing the coffee beans this morning while you and Aiko were both probably sleeping.” Suga looks embarrassed and rubs the back of his head. “I’m just feeling…” you trail off and tap the counter, searching for the right word. “...at peace, I suppose.”

He makes a noise of affirmation and gives you a small nod. Wordlessly, he goes back into the kitchen, and you turn to the espresso machine, creativity taking hold of your mind.

As you experiment with different syrups and garnishes, you can’t help but be thankful that your quirk works on food, including coffee beans. Every morning, you would “bless” the beans, as Suga jokingly said. It made the coffee take on minorly healing properties and left your customers feeling good.

The time passes pretty quickly as you mess around with different potential flavors. After deciding that there’s potential in the vanilla and lavender you turn around, and the sky is shifting into soft pinks and calming oranges. You can’t help but grin as the bell rings and you see the Erasure Hero enter the Sweet Bean once again. But he’s not alone. That’s different.

The man next to him is tall and lean, with yellow hair that blooms behind him and frames his face. His face is gaunt, and his cheekbones are so sharp you could cut yourself on them. His bright blue eyes bore into yours, and warmth floods your stomach. He looks both frail and strong, exhausted and wired, intense yet relaxed, a series of oxymorons you could get lost in. Realizing you’re staring, you tear your gaze away from the stranger towards Aizawa.

“One black coffee Mr. Aizawa?” you ask with a brow quirked. He nods.

“Don’t forget, it’s free this time,” he murmurs as you fix his order.

“Ya know, you could get something much nicer,” you laugh. “Your kid, Sato, he uses his free item on one of Suga’s cakes.” He grunts, and as you turn to hand him the cup his nose scrunches.

“This is good enough.” You roll your eyes before turning back to look at the strange man next to him.

“And, uh, what can I get for you?” you ask, trying to ignore the nerves in your stomach. He turns his intense gaze to the menu and grimaces. When he looks back at you, the air feels far too warm.

“There’s a lot of choices. Anything you recommend?” His voice rumbles through the air, sending a small chill down your spine. You feel paralyzed under the weight in his gaze, and you freeze. He shifts uncomfortably as you rack your brain for words.

“I uh, the- the honey cinnamon latte. That one. I like that one.” He chuckles lightly before nodding.

“In that case, I’ll have one of those.” You turn at his response and focus on making his drink. What is wrong with you? This complete stranger is turning you into a mess.

Once his drink is ready, you offer it to him without meeting his eyes.

“Thank you very much, how much is it?” His tone is warm, and it makes you flush. Making a rash decision, you offer him a smile.

“Don’t worry about it, sir! It’s on the house!” you say in what you pray is a regular voice. Your gaze meets Aizawa’s, and you see him glare at you as his face slips into a look of betrayal. He’s been coming here for a while now, and you’ve never offered him something on the house.

Your body heats up as you look back at the tall man in front of you. He looks a little embarrassed at the gesture.

“That’s very kind of you, but I’m alright with paying.” He pulls out his wallet, and you scramble in a panic before bowing your head.

“Oh no, it’s alright! You are Aizawa’s guest. He was using his reward, and the coffee he ordered was such a small price so I promise it’s okay!” When you look up, both men are watching you carefully. Your stomach twists in knots as you begin to regret your spur of the moment decision.

There’s gotta be a way out of this. You evaluate your next potential actions, and as you're about to speak, you’re cut out by a cry coming from the kitchen. The mounting tension shifts into a collective confusion.

“Suga?” You hesitantly ask. “Are you alright?”

“Ah, sorry Y/N!” He calls out. “I burned my hand! Do ya think you can help me out?” You grimace and cross your arms.

“We’ve got burn ointment in our first aid kit. Can’t you use that?” Self-conscious blooms in you at the thought of using your quirk in front of customers. Suga crosses the threshold to the storefront, clutching his raw hand.

“I was in the middle of something and the ointment’s gonna take too long,” he whines. You exhale and roll your eyes before you move to hold Suga’s injured hand.

Ignoring the mildly curious stares from behind you, you shut your eyes and focus on the energy inside of you. Warmth floods through your veins before reaching your palms. You open your eyes as your hands begin to lightly glow. Suga shoulders visibly sag as he relaxes. You focus on getting a grip on the warmth and buzz you feel in your hands. The glow fades, and you release Suga’s hand.

“Thanks, Y/N! I’m feeling pumped now!” He clutches his hand before heading back to the kitchen in determination. When you turn around, you meet the curiosity you felt on your back head-on.

“It’s a basic healing quirk. It makes my hands warm and uh, makes the target feel pretty good.” You wring your hands nervously. They both appear to be calculating you, their eyes distant. Aizawa is a teacher at UA, so that makes sense. Perhaps the other man works there too.

“Anyways, please enjoy the drink!” You turn and make yourself busy making unnecessary adjustments to the espresso machine. What has gotten into you?

“Thank you very much, y/n!” The stranger says in a steadfast tone. You freeze at the use of your name, before looking over your shoulder and smiling.

“Of course! Please come again!”

As soon as they exit, you groan and bury your face in your hands. You hear footsteps coming from the kitchen and Suga’s voice wafts through the air gently.

“Are you okay?” You lift your head and look dejected at him.

“I am an absolute fool who has no self-control, Suga,” you bemoan. His eyes widen as your recount of the events turns into a spiral. Oh boy, something certainly had you in a frenzy.

______________

Toshinori furrowed his brows, as he and Aizawa returned to the street. Something had felt off about that entire interaction. As if reading his mind, Aizawa begins to speak.

“That was...strange.” The taller man turns to look at his friend.

“What do you mean?”

“She's not normally so...flustered. I’ve been coming here every morning for a while now, and occasionally after classes end too. She’s normally a lot calmer, less flustered,” he says in a calculating manner. Toshinori hums in response. So it wasn’t all in his head.

“And she’s never given anyone something on the house without a rewards card,” Aizawa continues, his eyes narrowing.

“Well, she said that-” Toshinori begins, but is cut off by Aizawa’s cutting stare.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Do you think she was able to recognize me?” Toshinori asks hesitantly. Aizawa pauses for a second, shakes his head, and begins to walk away. Toshinori turns to look back at you through the window. Something tugs at his heart as he sees you in a panic rambling to the baker, Suga he recalled. He ignores the heat that rushes to his cheeks before turning to catch up to Aizawa.

#yagi toshinori #yagi toshinori x reader #toshinori yagi x you #toshinori yagi x reader #toshinori yagi #my writing #on the house #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha x you #toshinori content #💫.yagi

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whitebear-ofthe-watertribe · 5 years ago

Text

That Which Holds Us - Chapter 7

Pairing(s): Adrien / Marinette, Nino / Alya

Summary: It has been several months since Ladybug and Chat Noir discovered their true identities. Now that they are not trapped by secrets, they can finally be their full selves around each other and have never been closer. Marinette is going into her final year at university, Adrien is exploring new classes and passions, and their friends Alya and Nino seem to be moving towards a happy future together. It all feels like things could not be better.

But of course, nothing in life is quite so perfect.

When Adrien starts having vivid nightmares and visions about his mother, old questions begin to resurface. Will he be able to find the answers, or will these ghosts from the past tear apart the heroes of Paris for good?

Reminder, you can also read / follow this fic at AO3 here, and FF.net here.

Previous Chapters

Chapter Word Count: 5,820

Enjoy!!!

The venue that Nino was to perform at was conveniently near campus. The small old theater – location of hundreds, if not thousands, of plays and concerts over the years – stood on one side of a large courtyard. A grand fountain lay at the center of the courtyard, its water glistening in the soft beams of evening sunlight that streamed through the gaps between trees and buildings.

Marinette and Adrien made their way along the school’s pathways towards a small corner restaurant that they frequented for study dates. The air was comfortably warm, as if the heat of summer was trying to make one last appearance before the weather officially cooled.

Marinette shot Adrien a sideways glance, trying to discern what was going on in his mind. There were dark circles under his eyes, and though he concealed it well, she could sense the tension coming off him.

“So…” she ventured, feeling out whether he wanted to talk about serious things or not. “How was your day?”

Adrien shrugged.

“Shockingly normal,” he said smoothly. And unhelpfully.

Marinette frowned as she waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t, she pressed on.

“Well, normal is completely subjective, so what does normal look like for Adrien Agreste, superhero-slash-model.”

Adrien sighed, giving her a look that said he knew exactly what she was getting at.

“Fine,” he relented. “It was full of people complaining about how last night was a disaster, and how Chat Noir let everyone down. And then my father showed his face in the office for no other reason than to be snippy with me about disappearing before the dinner course had even been served. So, all in all, pretty normal.”

He put on a forced smile as they waited for a group of people to pass in front of them.

Marinette bit her lip in frustration. Adrien’s new blasé behavior wasn’t fooling her.

“Adrien, you know they’re all wrong about you, right?” she said finally, slowing to a stop on the sidewalk.

Adrien turned to look at her. His jaw tightened a little when he saw her expression.

“I’m alright, Mar,” he said, with a shrug and another forced smile. “I couldn’t care less about what they say, I’m just glad they’re finally catching on.”

“Catching on?” Marinette squinted at him suspiciously. “Catching on to what, exactly?”

“To the fact that I, the shinning son of Gabriel Agreste, am absolutely useless,” he chuckled humorlessly, avoiding her gaze as he turned to continue walking. “I mean it’s about time, right? Maybe I should consider retiring soon!”

“Adrien, this isn’t something to joke about,” Marinette said, her feet carrying her forward once more to follow him. “You deserve none of that garbage, and you know it.”

“Don’t I?” he called over his shoulder with a wry smile.

And with that, Marinette was done.

Lengthening her stride, she shot passed him and whirled to face him directly, cutting him off mid step.

“Enough!” she snapped.

Taken aback, Adrien froze as he looked down at her.

“Don’t you dare start thinking you deserve any of what they’re saying!” she said, stepping right up to him and poking a finger into his chest. “You are incredible, and brave, and so strong. You’ve given so much for them, and they have no idea! But I do!” Her voice shook a little. She could feel furious tears welling up, but she forced them away. “I’ve been defending how worthy you are to everyone else today, now please don’t make me fight you, too.”

He stared at her as she glowered up at him.

She hated how he did this; after so many years of bottling up his emotions, there were always hurdles she needed to cross before he would open up. He had learned enough to eventually take down his guard and actually talk to her, but not before trying to pretend that everything was fine. She knew the part of him that didn’t want to put any burden on her would almost always be struggling with the part of him that wanted to be fully known and accept her help.

The longer she held his gaze, the more she saw his walls crumble. Finally, for the first time that evening, she saw his genuine emotions crack through the façade.

“I – I’m sorry,” he said finally, reaching a hand up to sheepishly rub at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Marinette. You’re right, I shouldn’t be joking about it.”

“It’s not that you’re joking about it,” she countered. “It’s that you’re joking to cover up the fact that you’ve taken their words to heart. That’s what is pissing me off.”

Adrien’s expression darkened as he considered her words. For a moment she thought he might dispute her point, but finally his shoulders slumped in resignation.

“I suppose that’s not… entirely… untrue,” he said finally.

Marinette’s anger began to melt as she stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, his cheek resting against the top of her head.

She could feel his heartbeat as she buried her face into his chest.

“When are you going to realize that I’m always right?” she said, her words muffled into his shirt.

Adrien let out a snort.

“Almost always,” he said.

She smiled. “Ok fine, almost always. But that’s still pretty close to always!”

“Fair enough,” Adrien pulled away to rub her arms affectionately as he gave her a grateful smile. “You’re at least ninety percent right on this particular subject.”

“Nope,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m at a full one hundred percent on this one, and you can’t change my mind.”

Adrien’s grin broadened at this, and he didn’t try to argue further. Then, taking her hands, the scrap of fabric she’d been pressing into her palm finally caught his eye.

“Hey, wait. What’s this?”

Raising her hand up to eye level, he frowned as he pulled the fabric away and discovered the place where the needle had punctured her. The skin was still flaming red, but the bleeding had mostly stopped.

“You’re hurt?” he scolded, examining the mark closely.

“It’s nothing,” she sighed impatiently. “I’m fine, really.”

He tore his gaze from her palm to shoot her a frustrated look.

“Oh, come on. You know I’ve had worse than this,” she snapped, trying to tug her hand back.

Adrien held tightly at her wrist.

“We fight supervillains on a near daily basis,” he said with exasperation, “and yet you still manage to inflict injuries on yourself doing schoolwork.”

“In case you hadn’t realized, any poise or grace I have as Ladybug is purely thanks to Tikki. I’ve always been a walking disaster outside the suit.”

“That’s not true!” he argued, but the incredulous look she threw him made him rethink his words. “Ok fine, that’s not completely true.”

“Only mostly true,” she said, nodding with finality.

Adrien rolled his eyes with a snort but didn’t press the point.

Marinette was relieved to see some of his tension begin to fall away a little as they joked. It was a small victory, but she would take what she could.

“It’s completely normal, you know,” she said as they walked towards the restaurant’s patio, her thoughts returning to their previous conversation. “To feel like you’re… not enough.”

Adrien sighed as they took their seats, but Marinette noticed that he had at least dropped his sardonic expression. She scooted her chair around the table so that she could sit closer beside him.

“I mean, you know more than anyone how much I’ve struggle with that, right?” she pressed on.

The corner of Adrien’s mouth twitched into a hesitant smile and he nodded.

“And do you remember how you always encouraged me, even when I was ready to completely give up on being Ladybug?”

“I can be painfully optimistic,” he snorted.

Marinette smiled.

“Yes, sometimes,” she agreed. “But that doesn’t mean that everything you said back then wasn’t true. We’ve always had to do some incredibly difficult things, and I supposed we’ve been doing this long enough that it’s easy to get tunnel vision.”

She reached out and pulled Adrien’s hand into hers.

“But the important thing is to remember who we are and what we fight for. The people of this city rely on us because we were chosen to do what they can’t. And when it all feels like too heavy a burden to carry, please remember that you aren’t in this alone.”

“I know,” Adrien nodded, his thumb running soft circles along the back of her hand. “I know that we’re always going to be there for one another, I just…” he sighed again, scrunching his nose as he struggled to find the right words. “I guess… now that I know that Hawkmoth has this power over me… maybe that’s what’s been making it so easy to just give in to those dark thoughts.”

Marinette’s grip on his hand tightened.

A waiter approached their table with bread and olive oil.

Marinette gave him a grateful nod and quickly ordered a house wine and some hors d'oeuvres she knew they both liked.

Adrien said nothing while she did this, merely nodding in agreement when she glanced his way for approval. He took some vinegar that sat on their table and poured a bit into the oil.

When the waiter left, she said, “You know how Master Fu always talks about balance? How our Miraculous were made to be used in tandem, equal parts of the same powers. They must always be used together in one way or another, or else things fall out of alignment.”

Adrien raised an eyebrow but nodded.

“Well, I think it’s pretty obvious that the whole balance thing extends beyond what we do as Ladybug and Chat Noir. We have been friends… partners… for so long that I feel like we have become as much a part of that balance as the power in the Miraculous, you know?”

She pulled one hand away from Adrien’s to tear off a piece of bread and dip it pensively into the oil and vinegar, watching as the two substances created a swirled pattern on the plate.

“Adrien, you are the one who has held me in balance all this time,” she said quietly, surprising even herself with the emotion in her voice. She inhaled a deep breath and continued. “You have always been there to pull me back into sync whenever something bad happens or when I’m doubting myself. When I’ve fallen apart, you held all my pieces together. You’re like… my personal solid rock. From the very beginning, when I knew there was no way I could be a hero, you knew that I had what it took. You held me together and helped me become Ladybug. And… I just want you to know that I’m here for you in the same way you’ve always been there for me. I know that I can’t fully understand the battle you’ve been forced to fight, but please know that I… I’m always going to be by your side, to help you balance out that darkness and to help you fight.”

Adrien’s eyes softened as he stared at her, and she felt her face growing hot at the depth of her own words. Clearing her throat, Marinette turned to the menu, trying to make it seem like she was suddenly engrossed in the scrawling words, but not actually taking in anything they said.

“I know exactly what you mean,” she heard Adrien say softly.

Before Marinette could respond, she found herself being wrapped into his arms.

“You have always been there for me,” he said, and she felt his warm breath as he buried his face into her hair. “Even from the beginning, when you didn’t know me that well and had no reason to care, you were still there for me. You hold me together, too.”

After another long moment, Adrien pulled back, his eyes brighter than they had been earlier.

Marinette smiled, running her hand affectionately down his arm.

The sun was setting below the city’s horizon, and the clouds towering high above were painted with the pinks and golds of its last light.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Marinette exclaimed, tearing off another bite of bread. “You were trying to tell me something after you left your father’s office last night, right?”

To her surprise, Adrien’s face had darkened again, a crease appearing between his brows.

“What?” she asked, swallowing quickly and leaning towards him. “What happened? Was it something bad?”

But Adrien shook his head, taking a piece of bread for himself as he quickly schooled his features into a mask of unconcern.

“No, it’s nothing,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

Marinette gazed at him thoughtfully.

“Are you sure? You seemed pretty… I dunno, shaken?”

“Nah, it was just my father being his usual self,” Adrien shrugged, though he still didn’t quite meet her eye. “It doesn’t really matter anymore.”

“Ok…” Marinette said finally, though still not entirely convinced. “Suit yourself.”

*******

“Tonight’s gonna be a good one, eh boys?” Nino said, grinning.

He, John, and Antoine were crossing the large square. It was full of people enjoying what promised to be one of the last warm evenings of the season.

“I’m really looking forward to doing that new song, Antoine,” he continued. “It’ll be a total hit!”

Antoine gave him a halfhearted smile, shrugging.

“Eh, I guess,” he said, his attention turning to a couple young kids chasing each other around the large fountain.

Nino raised an eyebrow at John, who shrugged in response.

Antoine had been in a weird mood for days now. His enthusiasm during their rehearsal that afternoon had been rather lacking, and he wasn’t nearly as jazzed as usual about their upcoming show. He hadn’t said anything to either of them, but Nino could tell something was weighing on his mind.

“Seriously, you ok, man?” Nino asked, peering curiously at him.

Antoine shrugged again, not meeting his eye.

“Yeah, totally,” he said flatly.

Nino frowned. As they neared the fountain, he turned to John.

“Hey man, you want to go ahead and make sure everything’s ready?” he gave John a meaningful look.

John nodded, understanding passing across his face.

“No problem! See you guys in a bit.”

He hurried off, weaving between groups of wandering people before disappearing into the theater.

Antoine gave Nino a confused look as he steered them towards the fountain and pulled him down to sit at the edge of the water.

“Ok, talk,” Nino said, gazing expectantly at him.

Antoine frowned before turning away and shaking his head.

“It’s really nothing. You don’t need to make a big deal of it.”

“Oh, I’m not make a big deal of it,” Nino said lightly, leaning back on his hands. The marble beneath his palms was flecked with water droplets. “But whatever ‘it’ is, it’s clearly dragging on you, and I want to make sure my friend is actually ok before he has to entertain hundreds of people.”

He gave Antoine a sideways look.

Antoine gritted his teeth. After a long moment, though, his shoulders slumped. Leaning forward onto his knees, he turned his head to look at Nino.

“I’m sorry, man, I guess I’ve just been in a weird headspace lately.”

“Weird how?” Nino asked, frowning.

He waved a hand in the air, trying to find the right words.

“I dunno, it’s like… I’m not sure if I really get much joy out of doing these concerts anymore.”

He avoided Nino’s gaze.

Nino said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

“Like… I still enjoy doing music, but this just doesn’t feel like what I want to do anymore. I feel like I don’t know where I want to go in life, but regardless it isn’t this.”

Nino nodded, leaning his head back to look up at the towering clouds high above them. The last rays of sunlight framed them in brilliant gold. A gentle breeze picked up some of the spray from the fountain, blowing a soft mist onto the back of his neck and arms.

“I’d been wondering if you were feeling that way,” Nino said finally. “I mean, I know you’ve still been writing songs and all, but lately it just felt like your heart wasn’t in it as much as it used to be.”

“That’s fair,” Antoine said, his voice full of resignation. “I guess it’s just hard for me to imagine what else I could be doing with my life. Like, we’ve been doing this since high school. This is what I know how to do. So, does that mean I’ve already put myself into a corner?”

Nino gave a snort.

Antoine turned to him again, his eyes reproachful, but Nino just reached out to clap him lightly on the back.

“Dude, are you serious?” Nino said with a grin. “You’re one of the most talented people I know! You can do whatever you set your sights on.”

Antoine let out an irritated huff, rolling his eyes at Nino’s words.

“Are you sure you’re not just talking about yourself?” he asked.

Nino listed his head, frowning.

“I mean,” Antoine continued. “You have all these amazing dreams, plus the skills to meet them. You just got signed for that movie soundtrack, for crying out loud! You seem like you have everything figured out and I just… I want to know what that feels like.”

Sighing, Nino leaned forward to mirror Antoine’s posture.

“Dude, I don’t have shit figured out,” he said.

Antoine glanced at him, incredulous.

“I know it seems like I do, but it’s true!” Nino insisted. “I mean I’ve always wanted to do music and movies, but do you seriously think there aren’t times where I wonder if I’m doing it all wrong and need to be pursuing something else?”

“You always seem so happy to be doing what you do, though,” Antoine argued, his hands balling into fists. “You seem to love all the traveling and the performing, and I… I used to enjoy it, but I can’t get on that same level anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I still love visiting new people and places! I’ve always loved making music, so this just seemed the most obvious path. But it just doesn’t feel as fulfilling, I suppose. Like we crossed that line of ‘making it big’ and now what else is there to achieve?”

“Duh, selling out the biggest stadiums in the world?”

“Ha-ha-ha,” Antoine deadpanned. “As incredible as that is, it’s not quite the sense of achievement I think I need.”

“I get it,” Nino said, shooting him a grin. “You’ve always been one to shy away from the things a lot of people might find superficial.”

“I don’t even know if I can call it that,” Antoine shrugged. “I think it’s more about having set goals to reach, obstacles to overcome… something tangible to work towards.”

“Well then,” Nino hedged. “When was the last time you felt that sense of achievement?”

Antoine inhaled deeply, lifting his gaze up to the sky as he thought.

“I dunno… I’ve been teaching my cousin to play her guitar these last few months, and that’s been pretty rewarding.”

“Have you given professionally teaching people music any thought before?”

“Not seriously,” Antoine tilted his head thoughtfully. “I don’t think it’s ever really crossed my mind. I mean I had a lot of fun with it before, and it was totally amazing to see her get better and have that fresh excitement about it… but what if that isn’t right for me either? What if I get bored, or stop liking it? What if I end up right back here not knowing what I want to do with my –”

“Dude, you’re overthinking this,” Nino broke in, stifling a chuckle. “You’re treat all of this as if any decision you make will be the end-all be-all. But what’s stopping you from trying out a whole bunch of different things?”

“But how do I even start something like teaching?” Antoine asked, running an exasperated hand through his hair.

“I think the only thing stopping you is your fear of failure,” Nino supplied, slowly considering his words. “It’s like… you’ve got it in your head that everything in life has to be linear, and that if you go down one path then that means you suddenly block off all the other paths. And I think that is what you need to forget about.”

“How will I even know if teaching will make me happy?”

“The only way you can know that is just giving it a shot. And if it turns out that teaching also isn’t the right fit, then what’s to stop you from moving on to something new? You just gotta keep moving forward, man. Even if you do something and it doesn’t fulfill all your expectations, at least you’re still living life! And someday, after you’ve tried all these new things, maybe you’ll be able to look around and realize that’s where you’re supposed to be. And if you hadn’t tried all those things then you might have never discovered it.”

Looking around at Antoine, Nino could see a sardonic smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Damn. You should be a motivational speaker with speeches like that.”

Nino snorted and elbowed him in the ribs.

“I’m serious, man!” he said as they both laughed. “I know it sounds like some gushy, optimistic bumper sticker or something, but really the best thing you can do in life is follow your joy. Follow your joy by trying new things, and then share that joy with others where you can. Don’t give up on yourself.”

Antoine shook his head, but the grin he wore was genuine.

“Thanks,” he said after a long moment. “I appreciate your trying to help. I’m sorry for how off I’ve been lately.”

“No worries,” Nino shrugged. “We all had a feeling you were dealing with some stuff. I’m just glad you finally decided to talk about it.”

They sat there for several quiet minutes, listening to the conversations and laughter around them. Another breeze blew mist onto Nino’s back, and he relished the cool feeling.

“It’s getting late,” Antoine finally said. “We should probably get going. Don’t want John going out onstage by himself.”

“Ah, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Nino waved his hand, grinning. “He’ll probably have so much fun that he’ll decided he needs to go solo.”

“Let’s not feed his ego that much,” Antoine laughed.

Standing up from the fountain, they moved to leave when a familiar voice called out across the square.

“Nino!”

Turning, Nino spotted Adrien and Marinette sitting at one of the patio tables of a nearby restaurant. They waved and smiled as a waiter dropped off their bill.

Nino and Antoine returned the wave.

“Why don’t you go on ahead,” Nino said, sitting down once more on the fountain’s ledge and leaning back on his hands. “I’m going to say hi to those guys real quick, it’ll only be a minute. You can go help John make sure everything’s alright if you’d like.”

Antoine nodded.

“Tell them ‘hi’ from me,” he said before jogging off to the theater.

Nino let out a long breath, wishing he could do more to help Antoine. There had been plenty of times in his own life where he’d been stuck with similar doubts about his choices, but at least Alya had always been there to help talk him through things.

“Those were some very wise words,” said a voice beside him.

Turning, Nino found a tiny old man standing a few feet away from him, smiling kindly. He wore a bright floral shirt and his arms were fully occupied with brown paper bags full of groceries.

“Pardon?”

“Forgive my eavesdropping,” the man said, taking a step closer. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with your friend. It is very kind of you to encourage him like that.”

Nino couldn’t help but grin.

“Thank you, Monsieur,” he said, sitting up straighter. “I’m just glad I was able to talk him through some stuff.”

“It is hard for everyone to navigate the many different paths that life takes us on,” the man said, nodding sagely. “It is important to have good friends to help you through it, and it is clear to me that you are, indeed, a very good friend. The people close to you are certainly fortunate to have you to rely on.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Nino grinned, feeling heat flood his cheeks at such high praise. “I’m Nino by the way.”

“It is good to meet you, Nino,” the man said, returning his smile. “My name is –”

“Master Fu?”

Turning, Nino saw that Adrien and Marinette had finished paying for their meal and were now standing beside them, looking curiously between himself and the man.

“Do you two know each other?” Marinette asked, smiling as she stepped forward to quickly peck Nino on the cheeks.

“Not officially,” the man said, smiling benignly. “We were just getting acquainted by chance.”

“What a coincidence!” Adrien said with a grin. “Master Fu has been a… well, a sort of life coach to both Marinette and I for years now.”

Nino noticed that Adrien was sporting dark circles under his eyes.

“Really?” he turned curiously to look at the man. “What kind of life coach?”

“Well, certainly not one you seem to need,” Master Fu said, shooting him a conspiratorial look. “It sounds like you have quite some words of wisdom under your own belt.”

Nino laughed.

“Only for my friends. I myself can always use whatever advice I can get.”

“And that, in itself, is an excellent form of wisdom,” Fu grinned. “Well, I’d better be off. Can’t let this butter pecan gelato go to waste!”

“Yes, I’d better get going as well,” Nino said, standing up and realizing that he towered over the tiny man. “I’m playing that theater tonight, and my bandmates are waiting for me.”

“We’ll stop by for tea soon, Master,” Marinette said.

Though her words sounded light, Nino thought he saw an oddly grave expression cross her face. But when he looked more closely, her light smile had returned.

“My door is always open. And that goes for you as well, Nino,” Fu said, turning to him. “I would greatly look forward to speaking with you more in the future. I’m sure there are… many things we could discuss.”

“I look forward to it,” Nino said, smiling and ducking his head in a quick bow of farewell. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Master Fu.”

“The honor was all mine.”

Master Fu shifted the bags in his arms to wave goodbye.

As he raised his arm, Nino caught sight of a familiar jade bracelet tied around his wrist. He froze, staring at it.

There was a glint of secret amusement in Master Fu’s eyes as he turned to leave, tucking his bracelet out of sight once again.

And as Nino made his way towards the theater with Marinette and Adrien, he had the sneaking suspicion that his friends were getting much more than simply “life coaching” from the old man.

*******

The air inside the theater pulsed with loud music from one of the opening bands as Marinette led Adrien through the lobby.

Nino had parted with them at the entrance, hurrying backstage to join his band.

As they rounded a corner, Adrien spotted the stage raised above a large cheering crowd. Fog and bright colored lights flashing through the otherwise darkened hall, giving the performers a neon glow.

Marinette tugged him forward, her fingers entwined with his. She wove a path through the crowd and up to the front where it was standing room only. Finally coming to a stop, she let out a whoop and raised her arms to start swaying in time with the music.

Adrien gazed around, taking it all in.

The air was hot and humid, thick with a range of floral scents. A bar in one of the back corners was advertising a range of cocktails, and hundreds of people pressed in tightly together, some carrying drinks as they danced.

The band on stage was made up of four women wearing eclectic outfits that dripped with shimmering jewelry. Two of them were singing in a language he didn’t know.

The final notes of their last song rang through the hall, replaced quickly by a tidal wave of cheers. The performers bowed to them all before moving off stage. The cheering continued, pulsating in Adrien’s ears until it crescendoed to a deafening volume as Nino and his bandmates came into view.

Beside him, Marinette jumped into the air and waved her arms, shouting her praise.

Nino flashed a grin at the crowd. He pulled his keyboard into position at the front microphone.

“How’s everybody doing tonight?” he asked, his voice magnified to echo through the room.

He was met with a fresh wave of enthusiastic screams.

“We’re gonna play you a few of our songs,” he continued as he thrummed a few melodic notes. “We hope you’ll like them!”

A momentary hush fell over the room, broken by a couple scattered whoops, before Nino brought both hands down on the keys and filled the space with an upbeat rhythm. Once again, the hall erupted with screams and hollers of approval as people began jumping and dancing to the music.

Adrien and Marinette were pushed tighter together as the crowd surged forwards in excitement, drawing them closer to the stage.

Looking down at her, Adrien grinned as Marinette paid no mind to the tight space – she was using the little room they had to dance along with everyone else.

His eyes were drawn the curves of her waist and the entrancing way her dark hair caught the lights. Her cheeks flushed with excitement and her soft lips were turned into a beaming smile, dazzling him.

‘How is she so beautiful?’ he thought, momentarily in awe that he had her in his life.

Everything weighing on his shoulders seemed to evaporate as he focused on her. The joy she exuded was contagious.

He reached a hand out to wrap around her other side and pull her into a spin.

Marinette gave a squeak of surprise before dissolving into laughter as she caught on to what he was doing. Taking hold of one of his fingers, she lifted their hands high up and allowed him to spin her again, twice, three more times before draping her arms over his shoulders.

Adrien placed his hands on her hips, his fingers brushing along the soft, warm skin where her shirt rode up. He pulled her close, enjoying the feel of her against him and grinning as she closed her eyes and flowed with the music. For the first time in days, he forgot the troubles that awaited them outside. In that moment, the only thing he let himself focus on was the woman he had given his whole heart to.

As song after song played, they danced together in the little space they shared, beaming whenever they caught each other’s eye.

“Hey!” Marinette called to him after a while, raising her voice for him to hear her above the music. “Can you bend your knees for a sec?”

“Wha- why?” he inquired, tilting his head in confusion.

“Just do it!”

“… Ok?”

Adrien did as he was told, lowering himself until he was at eye level with her.

She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. Her fingers laced into his hair as she closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his.

He melted into her touch.

Her breath was soft and warm on his mouth, and his whole body tingled as he returned the kiss. He tightened his own arms around her waist and straightened, pulling her against him as her feet left the ground.

Marinette laughed, breaking the kiss and drawing back a little to look at him.

Adrien returned her smile before burying his face in her neck. He inhaled deeply and held her there for a long moment before setting her back down again.

“I don’t know what I’ve ever done to deserve you,” he murmured into her ear. “But I hope you know I’m more thankful to have you in my life than I could ever put into words.”

“You’ve never had to do anything to deserve me, mon chaton,” she hummed back, reaching her thumb up to gently caress his cheek. “You’ve always underestimated how truly good you are, you know that? You deserve every happiness in the world just by being yourself.”

Adrien shook his head but allowed himself a small smile.

“I love you,” he whispered, knowing she could read the words on his lips.

“I love you too,” she said, her own words drowned out by loud cheers as Nino’s band pounded the last chords of a song before immediately jumping into the next one.

They held each other tightly. Her head rested against his chest as they swayed slowly in place, ignoring whatever tempo the crowd was dancing to as the music thrummed around them.

Adrien had no idea how long they stayed like that, safe in each other’s arms, but a sudden buzz from his pocket pulled him back to the present. Reaching to retrieve his phone, he checked it over Marinette’s head, careful to not disturb her as they continued to sway.

The message was from Master Fu. It seems he had been able to set up Adrien’s travel plans faster than expected – his flight to Tibet would depart in a little over one week’s time.

Once again, Adrien’s mind was flooded with doubt.

There was a part of him that deeply regretted not just telling Marinette everything he had learned about his father and the Peafowl Miraculous. It would have been so easy, and he knew that telling her would likely release of some of the burden.

But Master Fu had been right; Marinette had theorized that his father was Hawkmoth all those years ago. So, if he told her everything now, she likely would come to a similar conclusion once more.

He knew it might be unwise to keep Marinette in the dark, but this just hit far too close to home. What if she jumped right into action? What if she went immediately to his father’s office, demanding he hand the Miraculous over? What if she took him directly to the police under the possibility that he was aiding Hawkmoth? For that, he was not ready. He needed solid proof before he could bring himself to accuse his father of such villainy.

No, he could not tell her, not yet. Adrien needed to discover the truth on his own first.

Lol can you see where I had a self-therapy sesh with my writing in this chapter?

This was a pretty calm one in the midst of... well, everything that has happened and (no spoilers) everything that's coming, so I hope you guys enjoyed it! To the handful of you still reading my stuff after a million years of hiatus, thank you so much for you comments!! You have no idea how much I LOVE hearing form you!!!

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #twhu fic #adrinette #marichat #ladynoir #ladrien #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #ladybug #chat noir #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire

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tarithenurse · 6 years ago

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I see you - Ch. 10

Pairing: Heimdal x fem!readerContents: the usual fluffy piningA/N: I’m rather distracted this weekend by my hubby finally being able to visit me from his country, so don’t expect a whole lot of action from me.

Ch. 10 – Ain’t no mountain high enough

You can feel the difference the regenerator makes in the healing process. Three days with treatment, but today is going to be without it.

When you’d woken up the first time in Asgard, you’d been wrapped in stiff bandages to support the many broken ribs, and your arm and both legs had been broken in several places (technically one of those places what the hip and not the leg itself, but it hadn’t mattered much then).

Now however, the extra layers that had supported and protected the healing bones were gone. Breathing deeply, you’re finally standing on your own in a proper bathroom without the fear that you’ll collapse all of a sudden.

Three treatments in the cradle. Each one had left you exhausted, your body burning with the heat of electricity, and it had lingered long into the night, making you cranky and draining every bit of energy that wasn’t used for walking back and forth in the room with two healers ready to catch you. When you didn’t do any of that, you slept, only waking up a few times to see that Heimdal was dozing in the chair next to the bed, or that he’d been around, leaving some token behind instead of waking you. First it had simply been a note, saying that her sister was doing well and that he would come by later to entertain her. Another time it’d been a book with old stories and myth of the Asgardian people. Then flowers, strangely familiar and yet alien at the same time.

Today, you say to yourself, today I’ll stay awake. Wriggling out of the light hospital-like gown, you look over at the stack of clean clothes that Frigga has provided you with. There’s no doubt, they’ll be nothing like you owned at home, but you can’t wait to wear them. Anything to be less like a patient and more like a person.

The shower is true to the grandiose style of the city beyond your window. Like a waterfall, it springs from the stone wall, cascading onto you and the marble floor in a soft, warm stream that washes away the last bits of mustiness that had build up under the bandages although they’d been changed frequently. Oh, gods, it’s good. Rubbing your scalp and hair with plenty of shampoo, you realize that a haircut is long overdue. Maybe you will leave it long this time? Change it up, just like your life has been? The possibilities seem endless and the freedom to choose anything makes you smile. All in all, life has taken a turn for the better since you left your hometown. Sure, getting squished by a giant, alien “leviathan” hadn’t been ideal, but you’re alive, recovering well…and you’ve gotten to see more than you could ever have imagined.

Once clean and dry, you dress in what you assume must be Asgardian fashion, to you it could’ve been taken straight from a renaissance fair or a fairy tale. At least the queen has provided you with pants. Tight and made of leather, which seems a bit daring. But it’s much better than having to move around in one of those long dresses the women seem to favour around here. A soft tunic goes over that, and once you’ve wrapped a leather belt around your waist, it’s hard not to nod approvingly at your reflection in the mirror. Lookin’ good.

…

Rechecking that everything is prepared, Heimdal can’t help but feel a bit nervous. The queen had been kind enough to divulge the plan for [Y/N]’s treatment, granting him an opportunity to plan ahead. Ready. With a satisfied smile, he strides off to handle the next phase of the plan.

By the time he reaches the door to the Midgardian’s chamber, an apprehension unlike anything he has felt since he was a young man is hammering inside his chest. He knocks for once, and the answer comes promptly, urging him to enter.

Not sure what to expect, it’s a pleasant surprise to see the woman sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in leather and delicately embroidered linen. The cool purple of the tunic is broken by thin lines of gold and yet…it cannot distract from the glory of [Y/N]’s smiling face and sparkling eyes that greet him unwavering. She’s…exquisite. Sure, the clothes are simple, nothing worth bragging about, so rather it’s the concept of this woman, radiant with life and curiosity, finally not being reduced to simply a patient. Even without having exchanged greetings with her, Heimdal’s sure his plan will be accepted happily.

“Morning, Heimdal.” The woman drops the gaze, picking instead at some invisible speck of dust on the tunic.

She doesn’t see as the Bridge-Keeper smiles at her self-consciousness. “Good morning. It’s a joy to see you free of the infirmary’s dreary gown.”

“It feels good to wear sorta normal stuff.” [Y/N]’s eyes go wide as she realizes what she just said. “I mean…It’s not that it’s not normal! I just…on earth we, y’know…it’s uhm…different and…ehm…and –“

It’s impossible not to let loose a guffaw at the woman’s attempt at recovering from what she thinks it’s a blunder. “Don’t worry, my friend,” Heimdal calms, “I’m well aware of the garments used in Midgard.” Observing as a shy smile erupts, the Bridge-Keeper decides it’s now or never. “Perhaps, if you feel up for it, I could tempt you with an excursion? A skiff has been prepared to take you across the realm of Asgard rather than only watching the world from behind a window…?”

A variety of emotions flutter across the features of [Y/N]: astonishment and delight are pushed aside by something akin to worry, perhaps. The bright smile turns into a frown as she bites softly into the lower lip and the fingers wind themselves in the embroidered border of the linen.

“What is it, my lady?” Heimdal allows himself to take a seat next to her on the edge of the bed, carefully reaching for her hand.

Taking it, delicate fingers trace invisible patterns around his knuckles. “I would seriously, like really, abso-freaking-lutely love to go. There’s so much to discover here and it’s like…like being in a fairy tale. Only it’s real.”

“But…?” Holding his breath, the Guardian of the Bifrost attempts to steal his heart for the worst. After all, why would she care to spend time with him?

How…how do I get to the skiff? I still can’t walk very far yet.” Again, the lower lip falls victim to a soft bite, and Heimdal finds himself wishing it was his lip. “The length of the hallway,” she indicates with a nod towards the corridor beyond the chamber-door, “but then I’m done for.”

Is that it? Expecting her to go on, the Asgardian hesitates, but nothing more comes. “If I’ll have to carry you, to grant you a taste of the world you so keenly have observed, then I will!”

“Oh, no! I can’t let you do tha–“

“[Y/N], there’s no need to fret. Just like on you earth, we have means of transporting people too ill or injured to walk.”

Meeting the [Y/E/C] eyes, he witnesses the decision being made, and his own heart could burst from his chest.

…

Of course! You’re absolutely certain, that you’re the biggest idiot to walk the planet. A people as advanced as the Asgardians are bound to have wheelchairs and what-not. Oddly enough, Idun has so far insisted on ferrying you to and from the cradles in a lying position, so you simply haven’t seen any other means of aid. And lying on he way to an exploration-trip hadn’t seemed like a good idea.

So of course, it doesn’t Heimdal long before he’s arranged a surprisingly stylish set of wheels for you and brings you through the labyrinth of halls and passages until you finally are outside in the sun. Breathing deeply, it strikes you again how clean the air is contrary to that back home…even out in the middle of nowhere, where you used to live. The sound of the city was distant and soothing, unable to overpower the songbirds and myriad of busy insects dancing on the breeze from flower to flower. This is heaven. It really did make sense why the Vikings of old had lived in glorifying hope of going to Valhalla. A morbid thought with a sense of humour as black as the deepest cave makes you quirk a smile, because in a way you (almost) did die in battle like the warriors thought was needed to be taken by the Valkyries to Asgard…and here you are. Difference is that you’re very much alive. The sun warming your skin and the gently win playing with your hair is proof of that. So is the fuzzy jolt that travels through your body as a strong hand rests against your back, urging you to step into the longboat that’s hovering in a waterless channel.

Once settled neatly on board, resting against furs and pillows, Heimdal maneuvers the vessel expertly out of the alien dock and along an invisible path.

“Anywhere particular in mind?”

That voice can also only be from heaven. “All of it?” You answer makes him laugh, honey eyes nearly disappearing in the smile. “I’d like to see what you see when you’re guarding Bifrost. And the mountain inland! And the lake I can see from my room.”

He get’s what you are trying to put into words, and as he navigates through the air, the many stories of the nation and his own youth surface. The intricate pattern in this Asgardian’s life has you criss-crossing fields and rivers, skimming over the treetops of the vast forests, and cruising along herds of deer leaping over the plains that fall and rise like ocean swells. And although each detour has the skiff aimed in a new direction, Heimdal consistently draws nearer to the mountains, the heart of the world. The snow-capped peaks loom tall ahead of you as the upland grows steadily steeper.

“These summits,” with a flourish he indicates the two tallest, “are Kóngurinn and Drottningin.”

Apparently, it means king and queen and are referring to the very first king and his wife. Buri, as the king was called, established Asgard’s dominance and role as a protector or the “Nine Realms”. This is not completely new to you as some of the books you’ve been reading while stuck in bed also covers subjects such as Asgardian history. Still…hearing it from Heimdal is much better and you feel your gaze drawn to him rather than the view. He has a way of oozing contagious interest, each word dripping with a calm confidence.

Enchanting.

There’s no other term to describe how the mesmerizing voice conjures images from the past.

#I see you #mcu fanfiction #heimdal x reader #i see you ch.10 #heimdal #asgard #idun #queen frigga #king odin #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #writing

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mischiefmakingmuses · 6 years ago

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Tawagoto’s Gate: The Disappearance of Tokyo Ghetto

[Here is a fanfic I wrote for all you lovely people, I hope you have an enjoy.]

Chapter 1: The Adventures Of Mumu-chan

In a world where darkness and light intertwined heavily and lovingly, never fully separating from each other and always continuing through existence in their dance of love and death, lived a Girl by the name of Mumu, who was secretly the Moon in a previous life. When Link did not manage to save Termina from Majora's Wrath due to being distracted by a Massive Display of Krispy Kreme Doughnuts, 2,400 Doughnuts All Shaped and Flavored Like Several Pokémon, Yokai, and Digimon (As Created For "The Great Mons Game War Against Pretentious Pokémon Fans Who Think Pokémon is the Only Mons Game When in Reality the Megami Tensei Series is the Literal Ur Example of All Mons Games"), all of Termina was banished to The Shadow Realm, but in the middle of The World of Light, and it was here that the Moon took her new form as Mumu-chan.

By Day she was a regular Schoolgirl, and By Night she became The World's Greatest Magical Girl. She was The Only One who could save the town's cats from falling prey to the Evil Tree Organization, who would often capture the poor cats and trap them up on high branches from which they could not leap down from. Every other night, she was visited by her Good Friend Tuxedo Mask...a month ago, Tuxedo Mask had begun to help out a Man from town named Mike Dawson, who was trying to find out what happened to his Totally Not Girlfriend, Rita Scanlon. Even one day, Mike Dawson interrogated Tuxedo Mask.

"Tuxedo Mask, what was YOUR relationship with Rita," asked Mike Dawson.

"My work here is done," Tuxedo Mask declared before being beamed up by his spaceship and transforming into A Whole Chicken In A Can.

It was when Things were beginning to fall apart. At One Point, Mumu-chan saw Nobita and Doraemon at a candy store!!! And she saw Kitaro and Nezumi-Otoko getting ramen at a ramen stall!!! What was going on?!

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

In this hard boiled world there is only one hard boiled detective named Gummie, who was a octopus bat alien thing given form on Jack Box's Drawful 2 one day when the Author wanted to be cute in a Twitch stream they frequented.

With a Large Pretzel Stick in their mouth, Gummie looked over the case files while her dear friend Star Sheep sat in the corner playing Splatoon 2 For The Nintendo Switch™, for the Salmonids were something Star Sheep became really obsessed with because they were Funny Fish and Very Interesting.

"Do you think this is a homicide case?" Gummie asked Star Sheep, pulling the Pretzel Stick out of his mouth and acting as if it were a cigar.

"Sorry, I'm Splet," Star Sheep replied.

"Hmm. That's true," Gummie mused, lifting up her hat to look outside the window. It was a Marvelous Night, but they had not been making much headway on the case so far. Perhaps it was time to get Reinforcements involved. "We don't even have a sus cuz the sec with a mo's got a perf al."

"Eko, You Don't Drink," Star Sheep commented wisely from the corner.

"Shut up, Maya, we're getting burgers," Gummie proclaimed loudly as he put the Pretzel Stick back in their mouth.

Chapter 3: Help Me Dr. Cox

The Next Day Gummie and Star Sheep left to find Reinforcements, first coming by Richard AKA Dr. Dick AKA Dr. Cox because the Author Wanted To Be Meta and The Real Dr. Dick knew Everything that they had planned for the week that had passed.

In front of a Dollar Tree, Gummie and Star Sheep awaited for Richard to show up, playing a bootleg version of Where In Time Is Carmen Sandiego? For The Nintendo Switch™ which landed on their doorstep one day. The reality of the situation was that the game functioned almost entirely like the PC version except that The Baron wasn't called Baron Grinnit, but Baron Wasteland Because I Think That Makes More Sense.

"When my mom and I played this game, we really liked Ivan Idea," Gummie admitted.

"How are we even doing this?" Star Sheep asked, without the monotone tone that this fanfic is read in as it's being written Because It's Ironic. It was then that Gummie squinted their eyes at the screen, only for the screen to melt away and turn into The World Ends With You: Final Remix.

"Oh hey, look, it's Neku," Gummie murmured happily. "Y'know, I really love Neku?"

"Yeah, I know," Star Sheep replied. "Comfort character, right?"

"I'm inclined to believe so," Gummie answered as he attempted to play the song Calling which was her favorite song because he first heard it in the DS version in 2012 and it really stuck with them.

It was then that Richard had finally shown up. She looked around with shifty eyes, seeming a bit nervous and unsettled.

"I don't think I'm supposed to be here," Dr. Dick admitted.

"I'm vaguely getting that kind of idea too," Gummie commented. "Anyway, so I heard from my friends Smile, Urien, Netalina, Gambit, and Jizo that their friends Nobita and Doraemon have gone missing, and have no idea where to go to find them."

"Eko?" Star Sheep began, pulling on Gummie's wing. "I'm sorry, but...how do you know about the Yokai?"

Both Richard and Gummie looked at Star Sheep wide eyed, in Gummie's case you couldn't tell very well because they always made it a point to never reveal their eyes.

"Shit. Shit. SHIT. I don't know what's going on." Gummie grabbed the sides of his head in confusion, narrowing their eyes at the ground. "Something's extremely wrong here."

It was then that Kaite20 had suddenly shown up. Yes, her name is actually Kaite20 because she feels the need to constantly append the "20" to her name even when just "Kaite" would suffice.

"Hey, you guys, I found a portal somewhere and it kind of looks like one you might see in Puyo Puyo Puyo Puyo Puyo Puyo Land. Is that...supposed to be normal?"

Gummie stared at Kaite in shock.

"Like hell it is," they responded. "Guys, we're going to the portal. Don't be surprised if we end up having Adventures in Bootleg again."

Chapter 4: Peter Was Not Available So Phoebe And Plumule Are Here

Through the portal, they had reached the home of Mumu-chan, in a place between the Shadow Realm and the World of Light. It wasn't QUITE time to play Lifelight, though.

"This feels more like how in ChalkZone, half of the world was day and half of the world was night," Star Sheep commented. And she was right, as the town was split entirely between night day, right down the middle.

"...this is cool but complicated," stated Dr. Cox.

"Focus guys, I'm inclined to believe that Nobita and Doraemon are here somewhere. I dunno how the FUCK they ended up here, but I imagine that they HAVE to be here," Gummie commented.

"Do you think it's because of...HIM?" Kaite asked.

"Absolutely not, because if anything makes sense in this goddamn world we're trapped in, it's that They Above wouldn't fucking put him in this story. Then again, I have no idea who else it could be."

"You're getting KINDA too meta, now," said Richard. "Sounds like a fanfic."

"It IS a fanfic, Dr. Dick," Gummie responded. "So that means that we'll probably meet the Kitaro Family and Ittan-Momen will be really suave and shit despite not being a major character. Also we now have an autistic girl and her baby bird monster friend on the team because They Above asked a certain someone if they wanted some influence on the story."

"Actually, he's more or less my tulpa." And there was Phoebe, with Plumule right next to her. The tiny bird monster chirped in an affirmative manner.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It's tulpas all the way down. ANYWAY, you guys, we need to find Nobita and Doraemon. The first step is finding Ittan-Momen flying around because like Hell he won't be here."

As if on cue, a dashing white cloth with beautiful blue eyes flew through the area and down the street.

"Fuckin' typical; OK, let's go." Gummie spread their arms...wings and took to the air, trying his best to keep up with the white cloth. Naturally, being part of the Kitaro Family and being Objectively The Best Kitaro Character In The Universe, at least according to the Author, Ittan-Momen was very fast and hard to keep up with. "Hey, sir, would you mind slowing down? I'll buy you some sweet potato sake if you do."

"Huh, what? Are ya talkin' to me?" Ittan-Momen flipped over in the air to look at Gummie, who wasn't keeping up very well. The cloth stopped and allowed the alien to catch up to him. "Do ya need me for somethin'?"

"First of all, very honored to meet you. Congrats on actually making it into a written work made by my Ghost Writer! They really like your voice and manner of speaking...down to the subtitles that Crunchyroll gives you."

"...Huh...? What...? I don't really understand," Ittan-Momen said. He was blushing though. "Anyway, what do ya need me for?"

"Gonna take a wild guess and say your friend Kitaro is somewhere in the area! Have either of you happened to see a boy in glasses, yellow shirt, black hair, kinda looks like a loser? Or his robot cat friend, no ears, bright smile, red collar with a bell, white belly, a pocket on said belly? I'm inclined to believe that we have a trickster afoot and that those two have been taken here for some reason...as well as you and Kitaro."

"Err..." Ittan-Momen tilted his head slightly to the side. "Yeah, I think so. I'm still not sure I really understand, though..."

"Don't worry about it!" Gummie piped up. "Just let my friends catch up with us and then you can take us to Kitaro, alright?"

"Cotton shochi!"

Chapter 5: When You're Too Afraid To Wake Up

At Ittan-Momen's introduction, the group found Nobita and Doraemon, who were actually having a conversation with GeGeGe no Kitaro himself. While presenting himself politely, it seemed like a lot of the futuristic aspects of Doraemon's existence had confused Kitaro quite a bit. He was just getting used to the fact that people had Smartphones, what was this about a 4th Dimensional Gadget Pocket...?

"Really glad to meet you, Kitaro! Yes, They Above is right, you are definitely Badass Adorable," Gummie gushed.

"Um...thank you," Kitaro replied quietly. "Ittan-Momen, who are...your friends?"

"Don't know. The purple one asked me to bring them to you."

"Sorry, Eko, I'm kindof tuning out here, hahaha. Everything I know about these guys is just what you've told me before..." Star Sheep laughed nervously.

"Trust me, if this got any more out of control, then fucking Ashens would've been mentioned. By the way, he gave the whole chicken in a can a negative review because it just looked like a melted chicken carcass.

"Anyway, Nobita, we've finally found you--and GeGeGe no Kitaro, to boot--at Urien and friends' request, so I'd consider this case closed..." Gummie adjusted her glasses. "...except that someone obviously was behind everyone's displacement, including ours and Kitaro's. So that means the case is still open...until we find the culprit!"

"I thought it was just Ekoro," Nobita replied.

"Ekoro?" Kitaro asked.

"Who's Ekoro?" Richard asked as well, despite the fact that The Real Dr. Dick knew very well who Ekoro was.

"I don't know any Ekoro," Phoebe replied bluntly. Plumule cheeped in agreement.

"I thought you said it couldn't be Ekoro," Kaite responded.

"I did," Gummie said. "So that means that it's someone we don't actually know. Kitaro, do you sense youkai activity?"

"Yes," Kitaro replied without skipping a beat. Gummie's sight wandered to the top of his head, where his ahoge was pointing straight up.

"Well, golly gee, that was fucking easy. Which Youkai of the Week do you think could've possibly done this?"

"I don't know," Kitaro responded. "It's not any youkai I've ever encountered."

"But they're a youkai? And they're close?"

"Yes."

"I wouldn't consider myself a youkai, per say..." came a voice. Everyone looked around, but to no avail. Suddenly, the world fell apart. The group panicked for a second, until the voice came back. "Give it a moment, I'll send you all back home in a second!"

They tried to focus on the source of the voice. It was coming from a definitive direction, but it still seemed like no one was there...

"I'm right here," came the voice again. Everyone looked downwards. In the middle of the group was...something. Almost exclusively what could be made out was a white mask with three heart-shaped holes in it and two horns. The rest of...whatever it was...was completely transparent. Its shaped was also inconceivable, almost as it was hardly there at all.

"The fuck are you, a Phanto?" Gummie asked in a sassy tone.

"Not...really. I'm not a youkai, either. Or a demon. Or really anything...I guess that means I'm...nothing?" It seemed to put a hand over where its chin would be. "It's kind of hard to be here, sorry."

"O...kay...so why did you bring everyone here?"

"Oh! I just wanted to have some fun and let you all construct a silly story in a world of my creation! I hope you enjoyed it! Happy April Fools'!" Nobody seemed impressed. "Aw, c'mon, I can't imagine it was that bad? I understand that all of you enjoy ridiculous humor like this! Not counting Kitaro and friends, of course, because they don't really represent anyone in The Other World, but surely the rest of you found parts of it funny!"

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Dr. Dick asked.

"I don't really know! I would say I'm Nanashi but Kitaro and Ittan-Momen would get mad. But similarly to him, I have no name. No one's given me one, and I might never have one."

"Oh, I know you," Gummie responded, "you're the one They Above have been struggling with for a while; they call you Not Melon."

"Ah, but that's not actually my name. Similarly to how they've called other characters in progress 'Not Ekoro' and the like. I don't have a name yet. But, I do have a birthday! It's today! April 1st is my birthday!"

"I'm inclined to believe that's bullshit because your concept has been floating around for more than a fucking week," Gummie grumbled.

"Well, they didn't make Smile on May 18th, and yet that's his birthday, right? And Urien was conceived sometime in November or December, but his birthday is somewhere in June or July, but it's still not decided because they want a date that would perfectly reflect Urien's personality similar to how it seemed to happen with Smile, right?"

"Wait, Urien's birthday is in June or July?" Nobita asked. "It would've been great to know that last year!"

"Yeah, but the date's still up in the air. Plus, that plot thread was going to be explored with Ekoro, with Star Sheep's Ghost Writer taking the role of Ringo so she and They Above could roleplay some fluffy EkoRin stuff. And then they decided that they didn't want to do anymore, and ran out of time anyway."

"...I think that's beyond even my understanding, Mister...err...what did you say your name was again?" Doraemon asked, tilting his head.

"Ah, well...firstly, I'm not a mister...and secondly...I don't have one. However, my birthday being today was inspired by Subeta's Elwood's birthday being today, and that Elwood's Pizza is in between time and space, kinda like me! Ultimately They Above decided they actually wanted to go down this route for me!"

"...OK." Both Nobita and Doraemon had given up at this point.

"Actually!" they piped up, clapping their hands together...or something? They were so intangible it wasn't really clear. "They Above decided to plan all this out as a way to introduce me, even though I kind of don't fully exist yet! That's part of the reason why you can't really tell what I look like...the only thing confirmed is my mask, you see?

"Anyway, that means that you, I, and the Yokai might all meet up sometime soon, in another universe! Exciting right? I'm really looking forward to it!"

"Did you understand any of that, Kitaro-san?" Ittan-Momen asked.

"No," Kitaro answered bluntly.

"It's OK, you aren't really involved. They Above are just such a huge fan of you guys that they wanted to include you. Anyway...as much as I'd love to stay and chat with you all, it's time for you guys to go back, and for this story to come to a close.

"It was really nice meeting you all! Especially because...I don't really have any friends yet! But, again, I hope you all enjoyed your time here, and I'm looking forward to meeting you all again! I'm not sure when or where, but it'll definitely happen!"

And all will fade to black.

Chapter 6: Home At Last

Gummie awoke with a start. Apparently they had fallen asleep on their desk. Star Sheep was in the corner, playing Splatoon 2 For The Nintendo Switch™.

"Star Sheep, what the hell happened last night?"

"I'm not really sure, but I had a really crazy dream where we went to solve a case...something about two people going missing? And then Kitaro was there?"

"Kitaro? You mean like GeGeGe no Kitaro Kitaro?"

"Yeah. Also there was that guy, there was that guy you like."

"Ittan-Momen?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck yes. I had the same dream too. Ittan-Momen was fucking incredible." Star Sheep turned to her friend's general direction and gave him a warm smile.

"Glad you liked it."

At the end of the day, much fun was had...and also Nezumi-Otoko Is Still Underground.

Thank you to @astarrymusenight, @jellipuddi, @robocatandboy, @timeandspaceandmagic, and my Twitter friend Peter Puzzling for letting me use your characters/personas!

#fanfic

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imnotinclinedtomaturity · 7 years ago

Text

Love Yourself (Chapter 7)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 8.5k story words: 35k (so far) chapter: 7/? rating: m warnings: language genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[previous chapter]] [[first chapter]]

Phil ran around his apartment, collecting the things he’d planned to show in his liveshow. He always found that liveshows went more smoothly (and avoided too many personal questions) when he had some concrete, pre-planned topics to talk about — especially when there were hot topics his fans knew about that he was trying to avoid.

Like this week.

It had only been four days since Dan had first tweeted at him and, well, those four days had been packed full with at least a few dozen tweets exchanged between them. If his viewers reactions on twitter were anything to go by… well, it was sure to be a hot topic tonight.

Phil’d spent a lot of the day thinking about how he wanted to spin his interactions with Dan. In fact, he’d genuinely considered canceling his liveshow just to avoid having to get into it. They’d both agreed that giving the proper truth — that Phil worked at a coffee shop Dan frequented — was out of the question. They valued their privacy far too much to disclose that information. But obviously, he had to say something.

Being as vague as possible seemed like the best option: they’d met through his work (not a lie), and had seen each other a few times because of it. Phil didn’t need to divulge the nature of their relationship — and honestly, he barely knew how he’d describe it anyway. They were more than just a barista and a customer for sure. Dan had flat out said several times that he considered Phil a friend, and Phil thought of Dan as one, too. But sometimes… well, sometimes their interactions didn’t feel like friendship. Or at least not any friendship Phil had ever had before.

It felt more… flirty.

Which was insane. For a multitude of reasons. Not the least of which being that Dan had a girlfriend, with no visible history of dating, well, not girls. Against his better judgment, Phil had done a bit of digging on Dan. Which he knew, he knew he shouldn’t have done.

For one, they were friends and it just felt somehow creepier to internet stalk someone he was actually fairly close with. And second, he knew how it felt to have more information about himself on the internet than he was aware of, and imagined Dan was just as uncomfortable with it as he was. Plus, it felt wrong to learn things about his friend that Dan hadn’t explicitly chosen to tell him.

Regardless, Phil had looked him up. Along the way, he’d learned that Dan had had some mental health issues a few years back that were arguably still present, depending on the source. He’d learned that with the exception of Isabella, Dan had never been in a relationship — or at least not one that he’d made public. Phil learned that Dan was incredibly private about his family life, to the extent that almost nobody even knew the names of his immediate family.

If it had been just a normal friendship, Phil would have needed to wait until Dan decided to — if at all — tell him about things. But this friendship was different. They were both very public figures and now he was sitting on all of this knowledge and he wasn’t sure if he should hide the fact that he had it or not.

His only condolence was that Dan had apparently binge watched a bunch of his videos, which meant he undoubtedly knew a lot more about Phil than he’d elected to share so far as well. Hell, he’d finally just confessed that he was kind of famous too (if giving Dan the necessary information to find out on his own could even be considered confessing, that is).

By now, Dan was sure to know that Phil had never had public relationships, with the exception of some dubious, long deleted evidence from his early, early days of YouTube. Dan also probably knew that Phil was incredibly close with his family, to the point of possibly oversharing about them in his public life. Dan had also likely caught on to the fact that his AmazingPhil persona was a bit different, a bit more innocent and bubbly than his day-to-day personality. Oh well. That was what Phil had signed up for when he’d started broadcasting his life all over the internet. And in some ways, Dan had signed up for the same gig.

Once Phil had gathered his… props, for the show, he set himself up on his sofa, and pulled up YouNow. While the streaming site loaded, Phil drafted a tweet so that all he had to do was hit post once he was live.

@AmazingPhil: Lions and plants and socks, oh my! Come hang out with me on YouNow and help me decide if I should keep the stuff I bought on Amazon this week [link]

When Phil saw the green icon indicating he was live, he sent the tweet and waved hello to his audience. He was always astounded at how many people were there at the very beginning of his shows, as if they’d just been lurking on his YouNow, waiting for him. Phil didn’t know if it was flattering or creepy

“Hi guys! How is everyone doing today?”

As he read out some of the funnier responses, he watched the number of viewers steadily climb. “Sarah says she’s watching me instead of doing her maths homework. Bad Sarah! Do your homework. Adam says he’s trying to make a cake he saw on the Great British Bake off. Good luck Adam, I’m not a very good baker but I believe in you.”

As the stream continued, Phil reacted to another handful of comments in order to give people time to arrive. After a few minutes, he glanced at the viewer count to see if he was near his typical audience size yet.

Seventeen thousand. That was a full seven thousand more than usually showed up for his shows.

Phil had a hunch that it had to due with his recent twitter activity. It was probably best to start his pre-planned activity before everyone started nagging him to talk about it.

“Laura wants to know how my week’s been. Pretty good so far, nothing to complain about,” Phil said, scanning the chat for anything else innocent he could answer before switching tactics completely.

“Okay guys, are you ready to help me decide if I should keep the stuff I bought on Amazon? Kelsey asks why I bought stuff if I’m not sure if I want it. Well, Kelsey, it was really late at night, I was bored, and it all seemed like a good idea at the time. Haven’t you ever heard of impulse shopping? It’s a real problem. See this is what happens when you live alone. You don't have anyone to tell you if the stuff you’re buying is cool or not. ‘Get a roommate’ someone said — sorry I missed your name. I only have a one bedroom flat, it’s definitely not big enough to share with —”

Phil was interrupted by a high pitched diiiing from his phone. Oops.

“Sorry, guys, I forgot to turn my phone on silent.” Phil embarrassedly grabbed his phone and toggled it to silent without looking at the screen. “Everyone’s asking who it is. I don’t know, I didn’t check. Let me have a look.” Curious himself now, Phil flipped his phone over.

@danielhowell liked your tweet.

Not so subtly, Phil threw his phone to the other end of the couch as if it were on fire.

Holy shit. If Dan liked his tweet about his liveshow did that mean…? No. No way. Dan was a busy celebrity. Surely he had better things to do on a Wednesday evening than watch Phil’s liveshow.

Phil tried his best to arrange his features into a more neutral expression before turning back to the camera. Naturally, the chat was flooded with people asking why he looked so surprised and who the message had been from.

“Just a twitter notification,” Phil said, aiming for nonchalant. Hoping to brush off the topic, he grabbed his first item off the table. “Okay, so first Amazon purchase is…” Phil attempted a drumroll noise “...socks!”

Phil held the pack of socks up to the webcam, flipping through the different pairs as he described them. “See, they are all plant themed. There’s cacti, and succulents, and bamboo. What do we think, do we like them?”

Not that he was surprised, but virtually no one in the chat seemed to care about his dubious Amazon purchases. Almost every single question was directly related to his interactions with Dan, both on Twitter and in real life. Until now, he hadn’t realized how much their fanbases overlapped.

This might be a harder topic to avoid than he’d initially thought.

Phil filtered through the Dan-related comments until he found a few people reacting to the socks and focused on those. “Amanda says she thinks they’re cute and Ashley bets that they’ll mix and match well. I agree, Ashley. Great. I’ll keep the socks.”

Phil sat the socks down on the table and picked up the next item, showing it to his audience and making another hopefully witty comment. As Phil struggled to push through the mass of comments related to Dan, he went through his next few purchases a bit slower than strictly necessary. He figured the more time he spent on this, the less free time he would have to talk about unplanned topics — namely Dan — at the end.

The charizard plushie and the grow-your-own-terrarium kit were his to keep, but everyone agreed that the Buffy figurine was more demonic than cute and needed to go back. From what Phil could tell, the comments had been split in regards to the aesthetic hat he’d picked out, and he chucked it away with a, “Maaaaaaybe.”

A quick glimpse at the clock told Phil that he’d been live for a little over half an hour already.

“This last one I’m a little more unsure about, guys.” Phil held up the jumper, trying to center it so that the lion on the front was in focus. His uncertainty was mostly for his viewers benefit. Phil was pretty damn sure how he felt about the jumper — it was bloody hideous. The lion design had looked adorable online, but then again that had been a small picture, it had been one in the morning, and he’d had a few mixed drinks by then. In reality, though, the lion was incredibly disproportionate and the quality was something he’d expect from a cheap, knockoff vendor on the street.

Nonetheless, Phil peeked around the jumper to read people’s comments. Those who were engaging in the Amazon conversation were all agreeing with him. “Sounds like most of you don’t like this one as much. I didn’t think so either. I love lions a lot, but this one isn’t very cute is he? Okay, back to Amazon that goes, then.”

Phil made a show of dropping the jumper and throwing it out of sight. He scanned the chat, looking for more reactions. His eyes landed on the word jumper and he read the comment out loud without processing it first.

“Max says to talk about Dan having the same pug jumper that you own.” Oh crap. That’s not what he’d anticipated when he’d seen the word jumper. “I, uh, yeah.” Phil fumbled for a second before pulling himself together and smiling brightly. “Funny, right? Definitely not his usual style. Honestly, when I lent it to him, I wasn’t sure he’d even want to wear it in the moment, much less at his own house when he had other options.”

Belatedly, Phil realized his mistake. He’d just confirmed that Dan didn’t just happen to own the same jumper as him, Dan had Phil’s actual jumper. Phil’s eyes tried to follow the chat, but it was moving too fast to comprehend. The only thing he could make out was Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan.

Well, I guess that topic is officially being discussed.

With a deep breath, Phil finally addressed the questions everyone had been tweeting at him, and he assumed were flooding the chat. “Everyone’s curious how I know Dan — Dan Howell, that is, in case anyone hasn’t been looking at my twitter this week. I met him through work. Don’t get too excited, it’s not like we’re actually working on anything together, I’ve just seen him around a few times.

“Maddie asks why I lent Dan my jumper.” He was well and truly in this mess now. Phil grasped for a story, settling on something plausible. Hopefully Dan didn’t mind too much. “Did you see Dan on Innuendo Bingo last week? It was really funny, right? He got so wet though. I ran into him in the bathroom afterwards. I was just being nice and helping him out because he looked like a drowned puppy.”

Phil chuckled, trying his best to brush the topic off, maybe bounce off some easier questions to answer about Dan before heading off for the week. Suddenly, though, the chat started filling up with the same messages. Half of them appeared to be copy and pasting something into the chat from some other source, and the other half were just keyboard smashes and different variations of “oh my god” and “did you see what he said?”

Phil assumed it was the other message they were freaking out about, the one everyone was spamming, the one he was clearly supposed to be noticing. Warily, Phil froze the chat so he could read what it said.

Daniel Howell: um excuse me i thought we were friENDS but go off i guess

Phil cocked his head, trying to figure out if this Daniel Howell was his Daniel Howell or an impersonator. It certainly sounded like something Dan would say, and Dan had liked his tweet. And Phil knew Dan had a YouNow account because he did liveshows of his own sometimes and… yup. That was definitely the real him.

Oh, great.

“Hi, Dan!” Phil smiled and waved, trying to figure out how the heck he was going to respond. He settled on teasing Dan back. “I don’t know, I haven’t seen you since Saturday. I thought you forgot about me!”

Of course, that started up a whole new flurry of questions. He should have known.

What was he supposed to say? How much was he allowed to say? It was intimidating enough having to talk around his and Dan’s relationship live to so many people, but to have to talk about it with Dan listening? That was so much worse. Dan would know instantly if Phil said something embarrassing, or too revealing, or flat out stupid.

“Everyone wants me to talk more about Dan.” With a sigh, Phil resigned himself to properly answering a few questions about Dan, hoping that if he actually gave his viewers some information they would let him switch topics.

“Justine asks how often I’ve been seeing Dan. A couple of times a week.” Four or five counts as ‘a couple’ right? “Tyler says that it must be cool to be friends with a famous singer. I guess? He’s just Dan to me. He’s a pretty normal guy. I kind of forget that he’s super famous most of the time.”

Phil skimmed the chat for more questions he was willing to answer.

Amee: have you met isabella because ngl she kinda seems like a bitch

Phil snorted, unable to completely control his laughter. From what he’d heard about Isabella, or Izzy as Dan tended to call her, he was inclined to agree. Not that he was about to voice that opinion online to seventeen thousand avid viewers. He looked for a less controversial question.

“Misty asks if he actually sent me a preview of a song. He did! I don’t know if I’m allowed to say anything about it though, so I’ll just say that it was great and I liked it a lot. He’s definitely really talented.”

Phil glanced at the clock in the corner of his screen.“Alright guys, one last question and then I’ve got to go. It’s been forty five minutes already! Samantha asks what we usually do together. Well, we started out just chatting because of work, you know, when we happened to both be around. But yeah, we’re friends now and we, er, we grab coffee or snacks together a lot. Most of the time we just hang out and talk, but sometimes we both work on whatever we need to. If you guys have more questions, you can tweet them at Dan, but I can’t promise he’ll answer any of them.

“I’ve got to go now, guys! I hope you all have a good night.” Phil started waving, making it clear he was going to leave. “Bye Brittany! Tiffany says she’s going to do her homework. Good! Bye Peter, bye Jim.”

Phil moved her cursor to the end button, trying to stop the stream. Like usual, younow was slow to respond. Awkwardly, he kept waving at his viewers while he punched the end button a dozen times. Eventually, the screen turned black, and Phil huffed a sigh of relief.

Now that Phil was finally done livestreaming, he tabbed back over to twitter. There was a new DM from Dan, which surprised Phil less and less each time it happened, but he was especially unsurprised this time — Phil didn’t expect to get away with talking about Dan in a livestream that he was watching without hearing from him. The message had been sent while he was still live, and was neither teasing nor admonishing, which had been Phil’s top two guesses at what Dan might have to say.

Daniel Howell: i’m glad you think of me as a normal guy and not just some famous rockstar

Phil felt his cheeks flush. He was eternally grateful that he’d thrown his phone to the other end of the couch and hadn’t seen that message while he was still live, or else seventeen thousand people would have seen him blushing and Dan… well, knowing Dan, he probably would have noticed the correlation between when the read receipt showed up and when Phil started turning pink.

Phil Lester: :) of course. I mean, it’s cool that you make music, but you’re more than just Dan Howell, Singing Sensation

He left his phone unlocked on the couch while he went to the loo. When he came back, the screen had dimmed but there was no new notification from Dan. Phil wasn’t sure if that meant Dan hadn’t watched the end of his liveshow, or if Dan had started doing something immediately after, or what. But apparently, he wasn’t going to respond now. Phil sighed and shoved his phone into his back pocket.

Phil’s phone was silent the entire time he cooked and ate dinner. By the time he crawled into bed with his laptop at half past midnight, he’d just about given up on hearing from Dan again. But he should have known late hours of the night meant nothing to Dan.

Daniel Howell: thanks. i think you’re more than just a famous youtuber for the record

Dan stared at the message he’d typed out to Phil, debating if he really wanted to send it or not.

Daniel Howell: i’m glad you think of me as a normal guy and not just some famous rockstar

He glanced back at the YouNow tab. Phil was still talking about him, now having moved on to loosely discussing the somewhat shitty snippet of the song that Dan had sent him. That song was basically all he’d been eating, breathing, and thinking about since Isabella had left Sunday night.

Working on his song was easier to deal with than trying to think about the things Izzy had said, than what had happened while she was at his flat, than the possible repercussions of their fight. So instead, he’d been hibernating alone since then, holed up working on his song. The only people he’d talked to were Phil and a few miscellaneous fans on twitter.

Before he could second guess (or third or fourth or fifth guess) it, Dan pressed send on his message to Phil, and shut his laptop, perhaps with more force than necessary.

With a sigh, Dan decided it was time to face the world.

He picked up his phone, and rang Louise. Despite it being nearly eight o’clock at night, she answered on the second ring.

“Daniel, there you are.” Her voice was hushed but stern. Of course. Darcy was probably in bed. Dan knew it was Darcy’s bedtime and he felt bad for calling, but if he didn’t do it while he had the nerve, he would back out. Again.

“Hi Louise,” Dan’s voice came out smaller and more upset than he’d meant for it to. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d been holding back.

“You’re lucky you’ve been active on twitter recently or I would have worried you were dead and just shown up at —”

“Lou,” Dan cut Louise off. “If I ask you for a favor, can you promise to just help me and listen and not lecture me?”

“Aw, love, what’s wrong?” Her voice was instantly softer.

“I just, um, you’re not too bad at arts and crafts, right? Like gluing broken stuff back together?” Dan fiddled with the hem of his shirt, running his fingers through the growing holes at the bottom.

“I’m fairly handy. Do you want me to fix something for you?”

“Yeah, do you mind?”

“Of course not. When do you want to bring it ‘round?”

Dan’s hands moved from his shirt hem to tap at his thigh. “Um, I was thinking now actually. If you’re not busy that is.”

Louise responded without hesitation. “Do you want tea or hot chocolate? Or should I open something stronger?”

Dan felt a wave of relief wash through him. “Hot chocolate sounds lovely, Louise. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Be quiet when you come in, please? Darcy’s asleep.”

“I will.”

Dan hauled himself out of bed. He slipped on a pair of black shoes that horrendously clashed with his white joggers, but whatever. He glanced back at his bed, where Phil’s jumper was bunched up, and considered pulling it over his tshirt.

It was just — it was soft. His week had sucked so far. He hadn’t seen Phil in ages, he’d been ignoring all of Izzy’s calls since she’d left, and he was bloody upset. He was allowed to wear something soft and comforting.

He decided it was worth whatever prying questions Louise might ask, pulled it on, and made his way to the kitchen.

Carefully, he stepped over the shards of glass, pots, and pans that still littered the kitchen floor to the breakfast bar. He really needed to clean that up before the maid came tomorrow.

Dan was thankful that he had saved the pieces of the bright pink mug from the floor during their fight. They were still tucked away on the breakfast bar, safe from further harm. Dan piled the pink shards of glass into a container with painstaking care. He glanced around the floor, making sure that he hadn’t missed any pieces. Sticking out from under the ledge of the counter was a bright pink handle. Dan scooped it up and gently added it to the container. With a determined flick, Dan turned the kitchen light off and left.

The night air was colder than he’d anticipated. He probably should have gone back upstairs to fetch a warmer coat. Instead, he pulled Phil’s jumper more tightly around his body, taking care to not jostle the box in his arms too much.

With cold fingers, he dug his keys out of his coat pocket and shakily unlocked the door to Louise’s townhouse. A welcomed rush of warm air hit him when he stepped into the entryway of Louise’s home.

To her credit, Louise was probably the best friend he could have asked for. When he walked into her lounge, he was greeted by Louise sitting on the sofa in front of two mugs of steaming hot chocolate.

Wordlessly, Dan climbed onto the couch, careful not to shake the box too much, and rested his head in Louise’s lap. Louise seemed to switch to full mum mode at the action, running her hand soothingly through his hair and letting him wallow in silence. She didn’t question anything — not the container he was cradling to his chest, nor the bright blue jumper he was wearing that clearly didn’t belong to him, and not even the barely-faded purple marks on his neck that she was bound to have a perfect view of from her position. She didn’t even question why he came over with fifteen minutes notice after three days of radio silence. She just let him be for a few minutes.

His eyes wandered the room as Louise played with his hair. There was a box labeled crafting supplies on the arm chair and a half empty bottle of liquor on the coffee table. He rolled onto his back and looked up at Louise.

“Peppermint Schnapps?”

“Just in case.”

“I love you Louise, you’re the best.” Dan sat and pressed a small kiss to her cheek. He leaned forward and poured a generous splash into both of their mugs, his destroyed mug resting in his lap.

Louise giggled as he handed her one of the mugs. “I know you too well, Dan. Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Dan shifted the container of glass in his lap. “Please, Louise. Can you promise not to lecture me tonight? I know what you’re going to say and I really don’t want to — I just want to talk. And fix this. I need you to fix this.” Dan shoved the container into Louise’s hands.

She opened the box and peered inside. “Oh no! The mug from your grandma. Out of all your mugs, this is the one you broke?”

“Erm, not exactly.”

Louise looked at him curiously.

“They’re all broken. Except one. This is just the only one I care about fixing.”

Louise gasped. “What happened? Did your shelf break or something?”

“No, no. The kitchen’s fine. It was... um, Isabella.”

“Isabella,” Louise said tersely. It wasn’t a question, but Dan knew she was expecting him to explain.

“She came over. Sunday. That’s part of why I’ve been… not around.” Louise stayed silent, waiting for him to keep talking. Dan took a deep breath and continued. “She’d been on twitter and seen Phil and I talking. She accused me of being flirty. When she figured out he was Phil from the coffee shop, she lost it even more than she already had. I know she has a temper, I’ve seen it plenty, but I’d never seen her that livid. She greeted me by throwing all of my pots and pans on the floor and when she ran out of those… well…” Dan nodded at the mug in Louise’s lap in lieu of any further explanation.

Louise studied the broken shards for a minute. When she finally spoke, Dan half expected the lecture he’d begged her not to give, but it didn’t come. “Isabella did this. To all of your mugs?”

Dan nodded. Louise’s eyes flickered down to his neck.

“And then what?” she asked.

“She said a bunch of shitty things. You know she’s not quite comfortable with the… bi thing, and she went off about me being gay and not liking girls and… I don’t know. I lost it too, I guess. One thing lead to another and…” Dan shrugged and took a long sip of his hot chocolate.

Louise narrowed her eyes, appraising him studiously. “You know I have to ask, love. Was it all consensual?”

Dan’s eyes grew wide. “Yeah, yeah of course! It was angry and rough, as I’m sure you can see, but of course. She consented.”

“And you? Did you consent?”

Dan had to fight rolling his eyes, even though he knew she was just looking out for him. “Yes, Mum, I consented too.”

True to her word, Louise simply nodded and moved on. “Let’s see what we can do about your mug, then, shall we?” She sat the container of mug fragments on the coffee table and got up to gather a few supplies from her box of crafting materials.

Dan smiled gratefully at her retreating figure. This was exactly what he’d needed. A chance to talk about their fight without being told how stupidly he’d acted, how big of a bitch Isabella could be, or how unacceptable both of their behavior had been.

Louise came back and diligently spread the bright pink pieces across the table. A comfortable silence fell between them as Dan drank the remainder of his hot chocolate and watched Louise’s delicate hands work out the puzzle. Once she’d figure out how the pieces went together, she motioned him onto the floor next to her.

“Come here, love. I’m going to need your hands too.”

Dan clambered off the sofa and curled his legs under him, settling on the floor by her side. Her hand grasped his and wrapped it around the mostly-intact base of the mug. Louise unscrewed a small tube of glue and lined the jagged edge. The next hot pink chunk fit almost perfectly on top of it. Instinctively, Dan reached out and held the piece in place.

“Push them together firmly. Not too hard, though,” Louise instructed as she reached for the next piece.

Together, they worked silently to rebuild the mug. It was nice to have something to do with his hands, to not be alone. For the first time in days, Dan finally let his mind drift, finally properly contemplating everything that had happened with Isabella.

Their fight was bad. He knew it was. The things that Isabella had said, about his sexuality, about their relationship, about Phil — for days Dan had thought he was angry, livid even. But now that he was here with Louise, finally letting himself think about it, he realized that more than anything, he was hurt.

“Look, I know you hate her, and probably with some good reasons,” Dan started.

“Hate is a strong word. How about avidly dislike?” Louise’s fingers were sticky as she manhandled his hands to grip the mug how she wanted.

Dan chuckled a bit, despite himself. “Okay. I know you avidly dislike her, with good reason. At the moment, I’m not her biggest fan either, trust me. Sunday night was shitty — I mean, really fucking shitty — but, I do kind of miss her. And I know, I know this is a dead end relationship. It’s just… comfortable, I guess. And it’s better than nothing, ya know?”

Louise hummed, but didn’t say anything. Dan could tell she was biting her tongue.

“Just say it, Louise. What are you thinking?”

“Are you missing Isabella or the companionship?” Louise questioned without looking up from the mug.

Dan knew his answer instantly.

“Does it matter?” he sighed.

Louise glued the final hot pink shard to the reconstructed mug, and rearranged his hands to cup the entire thing.

“Do you want a real answer?” she asked softly.

Dan sighed. He had a feeling he knew what Louise was going to say. Or at least, the general theme of what her message would be.

“Not really, but go ahead anyway,” he said.

“Of course it matters. I know you like having a person and I can understand that. But companionship is so much better, so much more, when you actually love the person that you’re with. Trust me. And you deserve that. But you’re never going to find that if you stubbornly stay in a broken relationship. Can you honestly tell me that empty companionship is enough?”

Dan contemplated the mug in his hands and slowly loosened his grip. The pieces were fused together. There were dark lines down the sides where it had been glued back together, and there were a few chips missing, pieces that must have been too small for him to notice in the wreckage of his kitchen. There was no way it would be functional ever again. Even if the pieces were glued tightly together enough to hold liquid, the glue probably wouldn’t survive.

But it was intact again. Not whole, not undamaged, not perfect. But intact.

Good enough.

“No, it’s not.” Dan leaned back against the couch. “But it’s good enough.”

The thermostat in Beans and Grind appeared to be broken.

When Phil had unlocked the door to the coffee shop that morning, he had been assaulted by a wave of absurdly hot air. He’d power walked straight to the thermostat when he’d got inside, frantically shedding his coat as he crossed the shop. He’d turned the dial all the way down, pointing the arrow to the lowest temperature option. At the time, it had seemed like a potentially extreme reaction, but forty five minutes later, it was still just as hot and the heater wasn’t showing any signs of relenting.

With a resigned sigh, Phil pushed the sleeves of his fox patterned jumper up over his elbows. He was slightly disgruntled that he was undoubtedly wrinkling the sleeves; he had been hoping to film a video in it later, and now he’d probably have to change into something neater.

All morning, the before-work crowd had commented on how warm it was in the shop, as if Phil wasn’t aware that it was approximately four thousand degrees. He was grateful when the clock struck nine and the steady stream of customers stopped coming in.

Phil waited until the shop was empty for a few minutes before yanking his oppressively-hot jumper over his head. His white tshirt would have to be professional enough. It was better than suffocating, anyway.

In his haste, his shirt got rucked up with his jumper, both getting tangled around his glasses. He fought the jumper, trying to free it from his face and simultaneously pull his undershirt down, but wasn’t particularly successful at either.

Ding

Shit, just his luck that a customer would come in at this moment.

He heard a loud, booming laugh.

He knew that laugh.

Dan.

Suddenly, cold hands were brushing against his chest and tangling in the clothing wrapped around his head. Phil felt Dan grab his tshirt and pull it down his torso, his cold hands grazing his ribcage as he did so. The touch was shocking, and not just because Dan’s fingers were so cold. Everywhere Dan touched, sparks radiated through Phil. Without his consent, his mind rushed to imagining Dan’s hands running up and down his ribs for far different reasons, under far different circumstances. Phil was almost glad his face was hidden because he was positive that his cheeks were flushed red.

When Phil’s shirt was adjusted, Dan’s hands slipped inside the bottom his jumper, sliding inside, and reached up to his face. Carefully, Dan held his glasses in place with one hand and coaxed the neck of the sweater over Phil’s head with the other.

Finally, Phil was free from the jumper. His eyes adjusted to the light again and he was greeted by a smirking Dan stretched far across the counter, Phil’s fox jumper held tight in his hands. Even being as tall as Dan was, Phil was fairly certain that his feet had to be dangling over the other end

“Morning, Philip. I didn’t realize coffee was coming with a show now.” Dan’s face was cheeky, his eyes roaming up and down Phil’s body.

Phil’s cheeks flushed. “You’re one to talk. You stripped your clothing off last time you were here without any concern about customers.” Or me.

Dan shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t see you objecting.”

Phil rolled his eyes and grabbed his jumper out of Dan’s hands. “You don’t seem to be objecting either.”

“You’re lucky it was me that walked in. I feel like not everyone would have taken so kindly to seeing you half-naked so close to all the food.” Dan retreated slightly across the counter, but not much, landing with a soft thump on the floor.

“Shut up, you’re making it sound worse than it was. I was only taking off my jumper.”

“Speaking of jumpers, I seem to have forgotten yours. Sorry.” Dan didn’t sound very apologetic.

Phil giggled. It almost seemed like Dan liked wearing Phil’s jumper just as much as Phil enjoyed seeing Dan in it. “If you want to borrow it for a while, all you have to do is ask.”

Dan flushed red and tried to hide his small smile in his chunky scarf, but Phil caught it anyway. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbled.

Phil smiled, secretly pleased that Dan apparently liked his jumper so much. “For here or to go today?”

“For here. I have a meeting at eleven but I figured I’d head out early and see you first.”

“Good, I was hoping you had time to stay for a bit.” The porcelain mug clanked against the coffee machine as Phil shoved it under the spout a little too eagerly. Phil tried to ignore the bit of coffee that splashed out against his arm. At least he was no longer wearing his jumper.

Dan pushed the sleeves of his leather jacket up, probably just as affected by the heat in the coffee shop as Phil had been. Phil’s eyes flickered down to Dan’s exposed forearms, eyes catching on the thin red scratch marks running the length of them. Briefly, Phil wondered if Dan had been playing with a cat or a dog recently. He’d pay good money to see that.

“Mmm, of course,” Dan hummed. “You have some explaining to do, mister.”

Cockily, Phil flashed Dan a smirk. “Really? Seems like you watched enough videos that it should be pretty self explanatory.” Phil wasn’t normally one to pay too much attention to new likes and comments on his old videos, but out of curiosity, he’d checked his first video after he knew Dan had watched it. He’d sorted the comments by date and hadn’t been disappointed. Beneath a string of comments screaming about Dan discovering Phil’s first video was a comment from the man himself.

Daniel Howell: being this precious should be illegal

When he’d found Dan’s comment, Phil had been too curious for his own good and clicked on Dan’s account. Much to his surprise, Dan’s recently liked videos tab was just pages and pages of Phil’s videos. Phil wondered if Dan knew that his likes were public.

Phil had half been expecting Dan to blush when he teased him about watching his videos, but instead, Dan’s lips just quirked up to match Phil’s smirk.

“That’s true, I guess.” Dan reached out to take his coffee from Phil’s hand before he could set it down on the counter, their fingers lightly brushing together. It shouldn’t have affected him the way it did, not when Dan’s hands had been on his bare ribs just moments ago, but Phil had to bite back a gasp at the touch. “I suppose I know a lot more about you now than I did, but all it did was leave me with more questions.

Phil rolled his eyes, trying to appear like he found Dan silly, but really he got it. He so, so deeply understood what Dan meant. The more Phil learned about Dan, both in person and from his dives into the depths of the internet, the more Phil wanted to know.

He’d learned that Dan had a childhood dog at his parents that he adored, but he didn’t know if Dan wanted a dog of his own. He’d learned that Dan was amazing at Mario Kart, but he didn’t know what other games he enjoyed playing. He’d learned that his inspiration for his songs usually came from his own life, but he didn’t know what was inspiring him at this moment.

With a mock resigned sigh, Phil wiped down his work area — he’d accidentally made a mess of it during the morning rush. “Alright, then, Howell. Let’s hear your questions.”

As soon as the words were out of Phil’s mouth, Dan’s questions poured out of him the same way his words always did when he was passionate about something — fast, loud, and all at once.

“Why did you decide to start youtube? Was it hard to get into it? What’s it like working with the BBC? Why the heck do you work at a coffee shop? Do you think —”

Phil threw his drying rag at Dan, smacking him in the face. “Slow down, will you? I can only answer one question at a time.”

Dan’s boisterous laugh filled the coffee shop. “Sorry, I got excited.” He threw the towel back at Phil, sprinkling black coffee grounds onto Phil’s white shirt in the process. “Start at the beginning then. How’d you get started on youtube?”

Between fans, interviewers, and confused adults, Phil got that question a lot and had an answer ready. “I got a camera in a cereal box and just started making videos.”

Dan cocked his head, considering Phil. “That’s it then? You just found a camera and your first thought was I’m going to make youtube videos?”

Something about the way Dan’s eyes bore into Phil coaxed out a deeper answer, an answer he usually kept private. Dan had a way of doing that. Those big puppydog eyes could probably make Phil confess to anything. “At first, it wasn’t a thing. YouTube wasn’t a thing. I just kind of posted the first video for fun, and then, over time, I found myself coming back to it. I was living at my parents after uni. Most of my friends either didn’t live near me or were disgustingly in love and… I don’t know. I was bored I guess. I wanted a way to connect with new people, maybe a way to make some friends. So when I discovered the youtube community, which was so small and close-knit back then, it seemed like the right thing to do.”

Phil wasn’t sure what he expected from Dan after he let all of that pour out — perhaps pity — but it wasn’t understanding. Which was exactly what he ended up getting.

“That’s kind of how I got started in music, actually! I hated so much that was happening in my life, I didn’t have friends, I just needed to do something I loved.”

“Exactly!” Phil agreed. “And I made so many good friends so quickly. It was exactly what I needed. As for getting popular, it was a lot easier back then. Like I said, it was really close knit, so we all collabed together and promoted each others’ channels. I was even part of a few community things, like ApartmentRed. And slowly, my subscribers grew and grew and grew until I woke up one day and I had over four million subscribers. I couldn’t believe it. All I could think was, I’m just Phil, from Rawtenstall.” Embarrassed that he’d been talking about himself for so long, Phil tried to switch the conversation over to Dan. “What about you? How did you get popular with music?”

Phil already knew, sort of. He’d seen clips of Dan talking about how an up and coming producer had come into a bar he was playing at by complete chance one night, and asked him to come to the studio the next Monday to play some of his original pieces for their boss. But Phil was willing to bet that Dan, like himself, only ever told part of his origin story during interviews.

“I was eighteen and I had been accepted to study law at Manchester University, but I hated the idea of it, so I decided to take a gap year and really give music a go. My parents fucking hated it. They said that if I wasn’t going to be working towards a more viable future by taking this horrific internship at a law firm, then I wasn’t allowed to live at home. I think they really thought I’d give in. But. I don’t know. I was young and passionate and reckless and stubborn, so I packed a bag, grabbed my guitar, and left. I got a job at a DIY store — which I was horrible at, by the way — and a really crappy studio apartment, and spent every free night I had playing gigs at shitty dive bars. And eventually, it paid off.”

Phil shook head, a bit in awe of Dan’s courage. He’d never realized how much Dan had risked when he decided to chase his dreams.

“Wow, that was so bold of you. I guess I was really lucky. My parents were really supportive of the youtube thing. I think initially they were just happy that I was doing something, making friends. But when it became clear that it might become profitable someday, they did everything they could to help. How do your parents feel about you singing now?”

“They’ve come around,” Dan answered as he shrugged out of his leather jacket all together, draping it on the stool next to him. Clearly, the heat in the store was beginning to get to him. “I think they were only really against it in the beginning because they wanted what was best for me and, well, I guess you know how difficult trying to make it the entertainment business can be. But we’re close now and they support what I’m doing. What about your family? You seem really close with them.”

“Yeah,” Phil agreed. “We are. They all think it’s cool, and my brother actually does a lot of behind the scenes stuff for me. My extended family is a bit confused by it all though. Like, outside of my grandma, I think most of them are convinced I make a different type of internet video.” Phil attempted a wink and immediately regretted it — he was well aware of how unsexy his two-eyed attempt at winks were.

Dan laughed, loud and unrestrained. “Now there’s an image. Innocent AmazingPhil fucking someone on the internet for money.”

“Hey! I am innocent,” Phil argued indignantly, pretending to be offended.

Dan laughed, doing his best to give Phil an incredulous look despite it. “Right. Do I need to remind you that you called me daddy like three days ago?”

“I was kidding!”

“Right, and we know only innocent people joke about daddy kinks.” Dan tugged at the chunky grey scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. Was Dan okay? Phil was kind of surprised Dan had lasted so long all bundled up he way he was.

“Jesus fuck, it’s really fucking hot in here,” Dan grumbled.

“I know,” Phil agreed. “That would be why I was trying to take off my jumper when you got in. You’ll probably be more comfortable if you take your scarf off.”

It seemed the logical thing to do, but Dan looked unsure, his eyes flickering between his half-finished coffee and Phil, as if the last thing he wanted was to remove his scarf. Phil squinted at Dan, confused

“You have to promise not to give me shit,” Dan tried to threaten.

It occured to Phil, then, that Dan was embarrassed. Cocking an eyebrow, Phil taunted, “I don’t think I can make any such promises, but go on then.”

Dan grumbled something incomprehensible, but obligingly lifted his hands to his scarf. A bit reluctantly, Dan unwound the grey fabric. Suddenly, Phil understood that the scratches on Dan’s arms likely weren’t from an animal — not if the marks on his neck were anything to go by.

Phil could feel his heart plummet into his stomach at the sight. He knew, obviously he knew that Dan had a girlfriend. And she was gorgeous. Of course, of course they were having sex. It was just — he’d never thought about it. Not really. Isabella had always been a distant figure in Dan’s life, one he didn’t even really talk about that much.

But now...

Now, Phil had no choice but to think about Dan and her having sex.

He felt like an idiot. His thoughts of Dan falling apart underneath his felt like distant fantasies all of a sudden. Instead, he was falling apart with someone else — his girlfriend. Girlfriend.

With a jolt, Phil realized he’d been silently staring at Dan’s neck a bit too long. Deliberately, Phil forced out a laugh, which came out weaker than he’d been hoping for.

“Damn,” Phil added.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Dan mumbled into his coffee cup.

With a monumental effort, Phil did his best to revert back to his joking self, trying to emotionally distance himself from the thought of Isabella leaving those marks on Dan. “And here you were saying that I’m not innocent. I don’t think you get those kinds of marks from being a good boy,” Phil teased.

Phil saw a flicker of something flash through Dan’s eyes. He’d forgotten what those words apparently did to Dan.

Evilly, Phil leaned forward on his elbows, resting his chin in his palm. “Were you a bad boy, Daniel?”

Instantly, Dan’s cheeks turned a deep, dark red. The expression was far prettier to focus on then the hickies covering his neck. Apparently bad boy affected Dan just as much as good boy.

“Fuck off. We got into a bit of a fight, if you must know.”

“A fight?” Phil prompted against his better judgment, taken by surprise.

“Yeah, protip: angry sex may feel great in the moment, but it hurts like fuck for days.”

Phil hadn’t been expecting Dan to actually like, admit to being a bad boy. And if Phil was being honest he kind of hated Dan confirming what he’d suspected.

“Those marks are days old?”

Dan huffed. “You should have seen them Monday.”

“Oh, wow. Um, are you guys okay?”

Why did he ask that? There was no potential good answer. If Dan said no, Phil wouldn’t be able to keep himself from feeling kind of sort of happy about it, despite feeling bad for Dan at the same time.. If Dan said yes — well, Phil’s heart just needed to get used to taking a beating when it came to Dan.

Dan didn’t answer right away. His eyes bore into Phil’s, almost as if he was looking for something, but Phil didn’t know what.

Finally, he spoke, sounding defeated.

“I don’t think we ever are. But we’re good enough.”

what did you thinkkkkkkkk? a bit less angsty than the last chapter? right?

thank you @auroraphilealis for all of your wonderful editing and suggestions. you always make me a better writer <3

[[next chapter]]

#phan au #singer!dan #barista!phil #slow burn #au #phan #phanfic #phanfiction #love yourself #ly

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rueitae · 7 years ago

Text

Space Birthday

Happy Birthday, Hunk! Here is a 9.6K word story of you as main protagonist! Fills the following 2018 prompts: Old Friends and New, Family, Ingenuity, Food/Cooking, Birthday, and probably Just Hunk Things too. Gen. Canon compliant - I’m pretty sure? Set sometime during season four.

Thanks @sp4c3-0ddity for giving it a quick read through!

Read it below or check it out on Ao3 or FF.Net

He could feel it in his gut.

Hunk’s gut was rarely wrong.

Groaning, eyes slowly opened and he reluctantly shoved his blanket off to the side. He yawned in the process of sitting up from his sleeping position. Hunk expected to take his sweet time getting up this morning as the Castle did not seem to be under attack at the moment.

He could use it, with the growing feeling of nerves in his stomach. It wasn’t the hungry sort of pain - although he was that as well. The ache tingled and spread out down to his fingers and toes. It was distinctly different than his ‘something is wrong with this picture’ feeling, one that he was aware came but once a year without fail.

His birthday. It coincided with the rainiest and longest days of the year back home. It wasn’t always on the exact day, but usually by the following week the most depressing conditions of the year were upon him. The sun may have been out longer, but nine times out of ten it was ruined by overcast skies and a better than decent chance of rain.

So Hunk had always assumed his aches and pains were weather induced. His papi had lived with the same issue, something no one ever gave a second thought to. The two were not the first in the family to get strange side effects from changes in weather and probably wouldn’t be the last. It rained frequently at home, a stark contrast to the desert where he had been going to school.

Hunk’s though, only seemed to occur around his birthday, and it was usually raining on his birthday.

He’d forgotten about it actually. Somewhere between being kidnapped by a sentient mechanical cat-spaceship and defending the universe, it didn’t seem possible for an Earth weather related ache to bother him light years away from home.

But his body was telling him otherwise.

This meant that his birthday had come and gone within the past week. They didn’t have any sort of way to tell what the date was back on Earth, but Hunk had never been so sure of anything in his life.

Except perhaps on the correct way to bake a sugar cookie, one always made it with sour cream, but that was an entirely different matter.

The others would have to rely on food goo this morning. He was too nauseous to be able to cook at the moment - a fact he cursed every year. He would have to find something else to occupy himself until he felt better.

—-

Lance was the one who finally found him in the Yellow Lion’s bay.

Hunk lay on his back, safety goggles on and sprawled out under an open panel on his lion’s underbelly.

“…huh…so that’s where you’ve been hiding it? Buddy, you could have just told me where it was instead of being all secretive about it.” A long pause. “Yeah I don’t care what Green tells you, curiosity can and does in fact lead to death. Especially for a cat.”

Lance raised an eyebrow and casually rested an elbow on Yellow’s giant foreclaw and the other on his hip. “I was wondering what it was that made you miss breakfast,” he opened casually.

Alarmed at the sudden inquiry, Hunk sat up too quickly and knocked his head against the loose panel. “Owww, Lance you gotta stop doing that man,” he complained, moving the goggles off his eyes and rubbing the top of his head in an attempt to soothe the sudden blow.

Lance further made himself comfortable, leaning forward with both elbows now on the Yellow Lion’s claw. He sported an examining and thoughtful look, tinged with just a bit of worry. “You didn’t show up for breakfast, “ he stated. “It freaked everyone out. It freaked me out. You never miss a meal. You’re the one always making up excuses to have a snack.”

Hunk was not impressed. “Hey, Allura and Coran adore tea time and my cookies. And elevenses too.”

“You took that from a movie!” Lance said, pointing an accusing finger.

Hunk smirked. “Real life thing, and you mean book anyway.”

Lance glared. “That still doesn’t explain why you missed breakfast. I mean, are you sick or something?” he pressed, real worry creeping onto his face.

“Naw, I’m fine. Well, mostly,” he corrected on second thought. “I have a bit of stomach pain. It’s usually gone by lunch though.”

Lance frowned. “Healing pod worthy pain? Or like getting the flu shot prick?”

“Like getting a prick in the side of my stomach every two seconds” Hunk said immediately, displaying the correct number with his fingers. “Always happens around my birthday and I can’t stomach to eat anything until later in the day. It’s the worst.” His face fell accordingly.

“Wait…it’s your birthday?” Lance asked, genuinely surprised and curious.

Hunk blinked in slight confusion. “Yeah, don’t you remember last year when…” realization dawned upon him. “Oooh. Right. You weren’t around for my birthday last year because of pilot survival training.

Lance shivered at the reminder. “Worst two weeks of my life. Thanks for the memories, Hunk,” he glared accusingly. “How do you even know it’s your birthday? It’s not like we can just check a calendar.”

“Because this always happens within, like, a week or two of my birthday. I always thought it was the weather, ‘cause my papi would get it before a big rain, and before a big cyclone his mother would get little corn holes on her fe-”

“Okay okay, you can stop now that’s gross,” Lance interrupted hurriedly. “So you’re not hungry - wow that’s weird - and you have a sixth sense for when your birthday is.”

Hunk shrugged. “Yeah. I mean. I guess. I always thought it was the weather. But we’re in space, man, nowhere near Earth. Yellow here doesn’t seem to have any answers about it either.”

Lance’s eyes had been slowly working themselves up into a sparkle of joy and mischief. He practically pranced in his spot. “This is great! We have a reason for a party!”

“Hm, that would be pretty cool,” Hunk admitted with a smile. “I wonder what Alteans did for birthday parties?” He gasped. “Or Galra! We could ask Kolivan. We could surprise Keith with something Galra-ish when it’s his turn.”

A bit more sheepishly than his normal behavior, Lance glanced towards the door to the hanger. “I get the feeling Keith is still a little uncomfortable about the whole thing. I’m not sure it’s the best idea.”

Hunk frowned. Lance had a good point. “Why do I get the vibe that he’s never celebrated a birthday before? Remind me to corner him about it later.”

“Done and done,” Lance promised. “So what can I do for you, birthday man?”

“I gotta stay here and keep my hands busy, otherwise I’ll go mad from not having breakfast. Yellow’s helping me out.” Hunk gave his lion a friendly pat on the belly, to which it purred deeply in his mind. “Just tell everybody I’ll be okay. I’ll bravely suffer the lack of food until it goes away.”

Lance grinned, a smug look on his face. “I’ll nab Coran’s precious meat thermometer for you.”

Less than two seconds Hunk had him in a crushing hug with tears streaming down his face. “You are the best friend a guy could ask for.”

—–

By the time Hunk was able to handle being close to the kitchen, it was well into afternoon Castle-time. Starving by now, he took a plate over to the food goo machine to dispense some nourishment. With a tired but relieved smile he pressed down on the lever to let the bland sustenance flow freely.

He frowned when it didn’t happen.

Frantically he tried again. Then several times in quick succession. “Ooooh, no no no, not again,” he whispered in fear.

His worst nightmare was about to become reality. Again.

“Are…you okay?” The quiet and calm voice came from Keith, who was standing in the door in his new Blade of Marmora uniform. His hair was much more flat than usual, and had Hunk not been on the verge of a mental breakdown, he might have realized Keith had recently come from a session on the training deck.

“Keith! I have never been so happy to see you! The food goo machine isn’t working. I haven’t eaten all day. I need help!”

The former paladin said nothing for several moments. He stared blankly at first Hunk, then the food goo nozzle, then back to Hunk. He shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe…ask Pidge?” he guessed.

“I don’t know where Pidge is,” Hunk said a little too quickly, panic quickly settling in on top of his now dull body aches. “I think I can fix it if I can get behind the panel. I need your knife.”

Keith seemed to be caught off guard. “Wait, what?”

“It’s made of like, super rare and strong material right? I think it’s the only thing that can get past the welding.”

Keith took stock of the situation before nodding. “I think I can get it open. Get ready to catch.” He wedged his knife between panels in the wall and with a few twists and a great heave, the wall came loose.

There, the reality of the situation was clear. Nothing was wrong with the machine itself, not mechanically anyway.

Platt had somehow figured out a way behind the wall and had chewed through the tubing, disrupting the flow of food goo and depositing it right into the mouse’s mouth. Currently it lay on it’s back, too full to move anywhere else. The yellow alien burped loudly in response to the paladin stares.

“Okay,” Keith said after a while. If Hunk wasn’t hearing things, the other boy sounded almost exasperated. “Let’s get you back to Allura.” He gently cupped the mouse in his hands before giving Hunk a small, apologetic smile. “I don’t think I’ll be much help fixing that. I can get this little guy out of the way though.”

Keith’s calm radiated outward and Hunk couldn’t help but also breath easier. “Yeah, this won’t take too long to fix, I know where the replacement parts are. Thanks for your help, man. You’re the best.” A tight hug was in order.

Keith didn’t resist, used to the spontaneous Hunk-hugs by this point. A genuine smile graced his features. “No problem. I hope the rest of your birthday is better.”

Hunk raised a suspicious eyebrow. “I’m not surprised. How long did it take Lance to spill the beans?”

“He came back singing ‘Happy Birthday’ in spanish.”

Hunk was even less surprised.

—

The food goo machine needed time to reset with the new parts, so Hunk had to figure out something else for dinner. Their fresh food stores were a bit low and a shopping trip was well past due anyway. Hunk decided as long as he was out, he was going to get ingredients for a cake. The others would enjoy it just as much and it would add to the growing list of ‘Earth foods the Alteans have tried’.

If he wanted to get the ingredients and bake the cake before the next sleep cycle, he had to go now. He was also beyond hungry. Worst day ever, Weblum and being attacked by food besides.

“There are plenty of grass fields on Raonde Seven. It was a farming colony back in the day,” Coran explained with pride. “Although the fresh just can’t compare to the synthetic threads of the Plentserian loaf! You had to burn it if you wanted any flavor. I could make one for your day of birth celebration!”

Hunk stood with mouth agape. “Uh, thanks, but no need. You sure this place is still farming? I need the flour, but it has been ten thousand years.”

Coran waved him off. “Those fields had enough nutrients to carry on twice as long! Take Pidge with you, she could use the fresh air, I think.”

A half a varga later Hunk piloted one of the pods down to the surface of Raonde Seven. One grumpy passenger sat next to him.

“I can already feel the sneezes coming,” Pidge complained. “Farm animals, hay, pollen everywhere…”

Hunk became a bit worried when he noticed her eyes definitely getting more red around the edges “You can stay in the pod if you want. I know what I’m looking for.”

Pidge sighed heavily. “No, I do actually need something here. The GPS devices the Raondians have on their farming equipment is second to none. I’m hoping to take some data back to the Castle to see if we can find some use for it.”

A comfortable silence settled in between the two. No sooner than it had, it was pierced by a loud rumbling sound.

Hunk flushed, as he set a hand on his stomach. “Urgh, sorry Pidge. I hope there’s a restaurant down there.”

The green paladin smirked. “I don’t think that one was your stomach, Hunk.” Leaning forward, she pressed a button on the comm unit. “Stop banging on the door. You’re going to ruin the pod and Coran is going to make you fix it.”

“Let me up front!” came Lance’s voice. “This isn’t fair!”

“Calling shotgun before we even get to the hanger is what’s unfair. You can sit in the back,” Hunk said, still plenty salty about the Space Mall trip.

“You said you were bored. You said you didn’t care what you had to do to get off the Castle for a few hours,” Pidge continued.

“You both suck,” Lance complained, not truly meaning it. His teammates didn’t have to see him to visualize Lance crossing his arms and huffing - ready to milk sympathy for all it was worth.

Unfortunately his Garrison teammates were least likely of all to give him any.

“How long is he gonna pretend to pout?” Pidge asked after a while.

“Oh, he could go on for days,” Hunk said a bit worriedly. “He once put on the act for a whole month in Physics after Professor Montgomery didn’t give the class the extra credit she’d promised us at the beginning of the year. She’d said it as a joke, but he was so pitiful she actually gave in. He won’t today though, because we are using this day as my unofficial birthday and he’s my best friend,” he finished with a tone of certainty.

Pidge smiled warmly. “We’ll get you that cake, Hunk. I promise.”

Hunk smiled, his heart warmed, and tears threatened to fill his eyes. A Holt promise was as good as the sun rising. After all, she’d found her brother in the middle of the entire universe after one such promise.

He’d have hugged her, but flying the ship came first.

VVVVV

Lance refused to speak when they had all exited the ship. His arms crossed, he glared at his science inclined friends and dared them to speak first.

Pidge was not going to give him the satisfaction. “I’m going to check out the local tech. I’ll see you two in a varga?”

Hunk would have let Lance pilot if the temptation for payback hadn’t been so strong. Instead he had less than gracefully landed the pod in a field outside of the largest population center that Pidge had been able to find.

Only ten bio signatures had been detected, confirmed as they stood at the threshold of could barely be considered a village. There was a large barn that looked as if it were undergoing a renovation, metal sides lined building with a few areas still showing a more original looking wood finish. A smaller metal building stood next to the barn, itself with dozens of large mechanical parts littered around it. Lastly a few residential looking domes lined the other side of a dirt road.

The rest of the area was surrounded by farmland, much how Coran had described it. To Hunk’s delight, the main crop of the area looked like it could pass for a strain of wheat - although a instead of a pure golden hue they had a metallic rusty shine here thanks to increased amounts of iron in the atmosphere. It helped to hide the pod from anyone casually looking in its direction.

The fields of the red and gold grain stretched out as far as he could see. Trees were few and far between, but offered a bit more height to the otherwise flat landscape.

Hunk hoped that one of the homes in the settlement would have some flour. There were no animals in sight though. His search for regular sized eggs would have to continue another day. Everyone was so sadly conditioned to food goo that no one would bat an eye if he used it as an egg substitute.

Food goo was surprisingly (or perhaps not, if he thought about it) full of protein.

A faint scent in the air caught Hunk’s attention. “Is…is that what I think it is?”

Pidge had already run off, practically bounding over to the building surrounded by engines, broken robots, and old tractor like machines. Lance raised an eyebrow, still putting on his pout routine, but willing to entertain a question.

Hunk’s eyes widened, suddenly quite aware of the hunger pains he continued to feel. “Someone’s cooking. That means they have ingredients to cook with. And maaaaybe they wouldn’t mind sharing some of the finished product with a fan.”

“Go ahead. I’m not moving from the ship. Shotgun is gonna be mine on the way back,” Lance said firmly.

“We’re on an alien planet, near a town that looks like it would fit into an old Western. And you just want to stay with the ship?” Hunk narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Who are you and what have you done with Lance?”

Even as Hunk spelled out the facts, Lance’s mouth twitched up to an excited grin and his cool demeanor was gone as if it had never been there in the first place. “I’m gonna go explore, see you in a varga!”

Before Hunk could speak again, Lance was already well on his way to check out the large barn that was adjacent to the machine shop.

“Okay, Hunk, breath.” He afforded himself a deep one. “See if any of the nice locals will share.”

Deciding to follow his nose to the source of whatever delicious smelling dish was being cooked, he was led to the nearest residential looking dwelling. He knocked at the circular door, confident that once he explained he was part of Voltron and an overall nice guy, he’d hit it off with the homeowners just like all the other aliens he’d met.

The door opened and child answered. Big yellow eyes looked up at Hunk in complete awe. Triangular ears perked up upon seeing the visitor. A tiny purple claw pointed up at him. “Wow,” she gaped. “You look just like one of the aliens from the Voltron Show!”

Because of course the Galra would be watching the galactic broadcasts.

Hunk had gotten a lot better at controlling his anxiety since living in outer space. That control was being severely tested here. A Galra child meant that there were Galra adults around. Galra adults who likely could figure out exactly who he was.

Lance and Pidge had no idea.

None of them had brought their armor, or their bayards.

“Oh. no,” he breathed. He took an unintentional step back.

The child mirrored Hunk’s fear, but not for the same reason. “Hey, don’t go! I’ve never seen an alien up close before.”

Against what his brain was telling him, which was to get his friends and get off this planet, Hunk did as the child said and froze in place. But there was no weapon in sight. This was clearly a kid, a tween if he had to guess an approximate age. His imaginative brain did it’s job and distracted him from the immediate threat, as it had a tendency to do.

“Wait. you’ve never seen an alien before?” His body visibly relaxed as his face drew into a more confused expression. “But you live in space. How can you have not seen an alien before?”

The child returned his look in kind. “…be…because I live on this planet? I mean of course I’ve seen aliens before,” she said, as if it were obvious. Hunk could have sworn he saw sparkles coming from her eyes. “But never in the flesh!”

“But I’m not an alien,” Hunk said automatically, and without thinking.

The kid looked at him as if he had grown a third eye. “Yeah you are.” She looked around him and must have spotted the pod. “You’re the one who came in a spaceship. I don’t even own one of those.”

There was brief silence. “Oh quiznack.” Hunk’s eye widened and he looked down at his hands. “I’m the alien. Keith is less alien than me.” Tears began to stream down his face. “Iamsuchaterriblefriendican’tbelieveitriedtoseeifhisskinwaspurple!”

The child raised an eyebrow. “Um. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Pause. “Do you wanna come inside?” she asked with uncertainty. Hunk’s stomach growled loudly, making her hair stand on end and jump back at the suddenness. She straightened back up upon realizing the cause. “I made stew if you’re hungry.”

She quickly found herself engulfed in a tight, warm, friendly hug. “I love you,” he said with tears still in his eyes.

She smiled despite the closeness. “You’re pretty weird, but I think I like you too.”

—–

“This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever eaten,” Hunk declared once he was sufficiently full. Relief filled his voice. “Thank you.”

The child beamed, swinging her legs back and forth as she sat across from him at a table. “It’s my father’s recipe,” she declared. “Everyone loves it. And now I know aliens like it too!” She was fidgety and sporting a huge grin that only a child could. Hunk felt like she would fly off her seat at any moment. “So can I ask you questions now? About being alien?”

Hunk gave her a slightly exasperated look before changing to a friendly smile. “My name’s Hunk. I’m from a planet called Earth. And uh,” he struggled to find the perfect thing. The thing that would complete the all important three point introduction that would condense his very being into a nutshell. “I love burritos.”

Well, when one has a sudden lack of profound thoughts, the favorite food would do perfectly well.

“I have no idea what that is, but I’d love to try it! I’m Keprin!” she said proudly, pointing at herself with the thumb. She smirked, and her fists clenched with excitement. “My friends are gonna be sooo jealous I got to hang out with an alien.” Quicker than an instant she was standing to his left. “Are you actually an alien from the Voltron Show? You look just like the funny guy. Hank? Hump?” She shrugged and moved behind Hunk’s chair to stand at his right, looking over every inch of him with scrutiny. “Do all earthlings look like you? Is it nearby? What do you do on your planet? Do you even have a job? What do you send to the Empire? Do you have flaming rocks that fall from the sky?” Keprin rattled off before Hunk could properly answer.

Hunk blinked, gobsmacked. “Wow,” he declared. These were indeed several loaded and actually relevant questions that Hunk realized his team should probably have a fake answer to. “Well, for one thing, I, am a gourmand,” he finished proudly.

“…what’s that?” she asked, a single eyebrow raised in confusion. This was clearly not what she had in mind for ‘awesome things that aliens did’.

“It means I’m always in search of good food,” he explained, a genuine smile on his face. “I’ve tasted a lot of delightful and deserving dishes across the universe. So believe me when I say your dad’s recipe is literally one of the best things I’ve ever eaten. And that includes my mom’s homemade burrito.” Pause “I mean, they’re not really burritos. They’re deconstructed? But they have beans, and rice, and everything else you need for a burrito, they just aren’t wrapped up because my mom doesn’t really like carbs.”

“Woah.” She stared, mouth agape. “So you taste things for the Empire?” she asked quizzically.

“Earth isn’t part of the Galra Empire. Never has been. We’re a free planet.”

If anything Keprin looked even more astounded. “How can you not be a part of the Empire? Everything is. Even the planets Voltron takes used to be part of the Empire.”

“Earth is, Uh, kinda in the middle of nowhere,” Hunk said, unsure of really why the Galra hadn’t attacked Earth yet.

Unless they were doing so right now while Voltron was liberating everyone else. Hunk shook his head wildly, as if the physical action would alleviate his growing panic.

“Oh,” Keprin said in understanding, but thick with disappointment. “Earth is a backwater planet with no useful resources. Father always used to say there were independent planets, but that’s not what they say in school.”

Hunk frowned. “You were hoping to prove him right, huh?” She nodded in confirmation. “Well, your dad doesn’t seem like a bad guy if he likes to cook. Maybe we can be friends?”

Keprin went sullen at the question. “Father died a few months ago. I’m the only one who lives here.” She got up at that point, and began to walk over to the icebox.

Hunk felt just awful and quickly followed her over. “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t - “ His apology was interrupted as the child easily lifted a piece of meat taller than herself and plopped it into his arms. It was far heavier than it looked and he nearly dropped it. “You’re kinda young to be living on your own?”

“I am old enough to be at the military academy if I wanted to be,” she huffed, but then frowned again. “I miss him for sure. But every time I cook, it calms me and makes me feel better. So as soon as I think about him I just, start working in the kitchen. It kinda feels like he’s still with me.” She shrugged, blushing a bit, and handed him some thick stems with dark brown leaves. “It’s silly, I know. But it’s all I have left of him besides his knife.”

Hunk had only known this child for ten minutes and he was already prepared to do anything for her, Galra or not. He knew this even before she took a knife from its sheath and placed in on the counter, clearly about to use it for cutting the meant.

Hunk did not think the Blade of Marmora would appreciate knowing that one of their blades was being used as a kitchen utensil. At least her curiosity towards non Galra now made some sense.

“I know what you mean,” he said, to Keprin’s surprise. He would bring up the significance of the blade later. “I cook with my mom a lot. And when my papi was still alive, I’d bake with him all the time. So, being away from home, it does feel like they’re still with me when I’m working with food.” He held up the plant. “So, what do I do with this?”

Keprin smiled widely, clearly having a great time already with good company. “That’s a cerrent plant. The leaves are useless. You can put them in the fire kindling. We have to cook the plant whole in the pot to give the stew it’s flavor. It was Father’s super secret ingredient. If you’re okay with helping me make some more?”

“I would be honored to take part in cooking a masterpiece,” he said genuinely. Hunk then switched focus to regard the plant with a scrutinizing eye. Useless? That might as well have been a challenge, and the prospect of new alien flavors was enticing. “Are the leaves poisonous or anything?”

“No,” Keprin said with a shake of the head, sticking out her tongue in disgust. “At least not for Galra. It just tastes really bad.”

She hadn’t yet finished her explanation when Hunk gave it a taste. He nearly died. Not from poison, but from shock. He took another small bite and tears tried to poke free. “It’s….it’s cocoa…it’s space cocoa!”

“Cocoa?” Keprin tilted her head to the side, a clear confused look on her face at the foreign word. “What’s that?”

“The first stage of chocolate, the most delicious sweet ever. Oh man. I am going to teach you how to make it, and you’ll never use it for kindling again.”

She stared at him in awe.

“What? Do I have something on my face? Did eating that stew make me grow an extra finger?” He frantically looked at his hands just in case.

“No but. You’re awesome. Nothing like what Commander Yerk says aliens are,” Keprin said with a huge smile on her face.

Hunk froze. “Commander?” This was new information. This was bad information. Panic began it’s predictive rise. “Please tell me here’s not here. Right now?”

She nodded slowly, not comprehending his fear. “Yeah? This is a military outpost. It only gets farmed by the robots once a year. Father was the unit’s chef. I took over his duties when he died.”

“Oh quiznack,” Hunk fretted. “Two of my friends are out there and they will be in huge trouble if they’re found.” A part of Hunk was actually really disappointed. He wanted to spend some time here, learn a new recipe, and hang out with a new friend.

But his very best friends’ lives were on the line.

Keprin set down the mixing bowl she had been planning on using. “We’re not gonna get to cook, are we? You’re actually a rebel.”

“I’m really sorry. I actually came here for flour, so cross my heart and believe me I really want to hang out. Maybe I can come back after Voltron saves the universe. Then you won’t have to deal with Yerk anymore.”

Her ears folded back, clearly in thought. “Father would have been so excited about an alien liking his cooking, too.” She took a deep breath. “He didn’t like Commander Yerk either.” She steeled herself and gave Hunk the most serious expression a child could offer. “I’m going to help you.”

“You will? Seriously? You know what that means right? It’s dangerous. You could get really hurt.”

Keprin nodded with confidence. Whether it came from youthful naivety or actual experience, her feelings were genuine. Hunk didn’t sense any ill will from her.

“I know it means death for a traitor to the Empire,” she breathed in deeply to steady her words. “But the Empire is why Father is dead. He always worried too much about the wellbeing of aliens and was killed for it. I can go see if Commander Yerk found your friends. He’ll be annoyed, but he won’t suspect me being around.”

Hunk frowned and sunk into thought. “That won’t help them get away. We need a plan to get us all off the planet safely.”

He looked around the house, trying to see if there was anything of use in a kitchen that could be used as a weapon, or a distra-

A distraction.

“I know just the thing,” he grinned. “It looks like we’re going to be able to cook after all.”

—–

Finding Lance and Pidge hadn’t been hard. There were only two large buildings in this settlement. Peeking through a broken window, Hunk found his friends handcuffed, tied up back to back, and surrounded by eight soldiers.

They’d waited until nightfall, which thankfully had given Hunk and his new accomplice time to make their preparations. It did not make the plan any more risky, dangerous, or ill advised.

“This is a terrible idea. Why did I even suggest this?” Hunk panicked.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Keprin whispered back, a basket of freshly made chocolate in her arms. “I’ll get them all distracted with this. It will - what was that saying - ‘explode their heads’?”

“Blow their minds,” Hunk said automatically. He gave her a deadpan glare. “It isn’t actually going to blow their heads up.”

Keprin frowned. “Oh. That’s too bad. I wouldn’t mind if Commander Yerk’s blew up.”

“No. No no, don’t go there. Bad mental image. I’m just going to sneak in, get my friends, and then get off this planet.”

“Great. I can’t wait to meet all your friends if they imitate and dress like the Voltron Paladins like you three.”

“Wait, what?!” Hunk was barely able to keep his voice down. “I mean, /what/?”

“I’m coming with you. Commander Yerk hates me, and I hate him, but he has to keep me around cause I can cook. He’s going to send me off to military school as soon as he gets a new chef. I’ve never been off planet and I’ve got nowhere else to go.” Despite the conviction in her voice, her face braced for rejection.

“Yeah, okay, I get that you want to come. I’m all for it considering you’re basically risking your life to save me and my friends, which I guess is how I make friends these days. But cosplayers? We’re not cosplayers.” Not to mention Kolivan would probably want to know about her.

It didn’t matter, her mood lifted. “Thank you!” she hugged him. “Thank you thank you thank you thank you.”

“Oh…oh yeah okay,” he reciprocated on instinct. “I promise all the hugs you want once I’m certain that we’re not going to die.”

She gave him a confident smirk as she pulled away. “I’ll do my job, don’t worry.” A pause, and then a sincere plea. “Promise you’ll wait for me.”

Hunk paused, if only for a moment. His priority was to his Voltron teammates, he knew that. But nothing - nothing was going to prevent him from helping innocents caught in the middle of war. His thoughts briefly flashed a picture of Shay in his mind, a memory of when he’d first learnt that lesson. For the first time, he really understood that everyone needed saving from Zarkon.

“I never leave a friend behind. I’ll even let you call shotgun,” he promised.

Thrilled and near bursting with excitement at the new arrangements, Keprin left to spread the goodness of chocolate to the guards.

Hunk remained behind by the window and took a deep breath. “Okay, showtime.”

—–

“What do you think they’re doing?” Lance asked, eyes narrowed and straining to see off into the distance. It was difficult to do so in the dark, but it was obvious that their guards had congregated for something specific. “I think Greg is eating something.”

‘Greg’ was the soldier to the furthest left in the group. He hadn’t bothered to correct the blue paladin when Lance had first addressed him, so the name had stuck.

“I don’t know, Lance,” Pidge growled. “I can’t turn my head far enough to see. Do they look like they’ll be there for a while?”

“Hmmm,” Lance watched carefully as the group slowly but deliberately moved towards the door. Between the two paladins and the group of guards, there was nothing but empty space with the barest of reminders that it was used to store grain. “Whatever it is, they’re really into it.” He smirked. “I’ll bet it’s Hunk.”

“I hope he’s got a better plan than us. Lean to the left,” Pidge instructed.

Lance did so, attention mainly towards the Galra soldiers. “I think they’re eating something. Whatever it is, it must be good.”

“I sure hope so, the novelty of chocolate is only going keep them distracted for so long,” Hunk said, sneaking up from the side. Wide and brilliant smiles shone on the faces of the captured paladins.

“Hunk, buddy!”

“Hunk! You’re okay!”

“Shhhh, guys! I’ve got some help, but she won’t be able to keep them entertained forever,” he said as he freed them from their handcuffs and the mechanical band between them. “There’s a big hole in the wall back this way, if we hurry we can - “

“I knew there was something rotten going on here.” A large Galra, even for the species standards, stood just a few feet away from the earthlings.

Commander Yerk stepped closer as the Paladins inched further away. “I had a feeling there were more of you scuttering about.” He drew a blade. “Now perhaps you will tell me who you are, where you came from, and why you are here?”

“Yeah, okay,” Hunk said - way too calmly - before either of his teammates could. Both looked at the yellow paladin as if he’d lost his mind.

Commander Yerk smiled, sharp teeth practically glinting. “Excellent. Start with your planet of origin.”

“Sure, but I’m gonna do it from over here, if that’s okay,” Hunk replied. Without waiting for permission, he shoved his friends about five yards away from where they had been.

“Uh, I hope you have a really good reason for this,” Pidge said before Yerk could protest his prisoner’s actions, clearly not used to this type of flippant behavior as opposed to ‘quaking in their boots’ fear.

“Plenty,” Hunk said quickly, once again cutting off Yerk from his questioning. “Lance, remember the freshman year retreat at the McDonald ranch?”

Lance, being the perceptive boy he was, had already figured out Hunk was stalling on purpose. His mouth curled up into a wicked grin from both the realization his best friend had a plan and the memory of the incident Hunk was referring to.

“If you three do not-“

“How could I forget? I dragged you out in the middle of the night to try cow tipping. That was the first time we ended up in the principal’s office.”

“That was you two?!” Pidge exclaimed.

“Look at that Hunk,” Lance bragged, lopping a lazy arm around Pidge’s shoulders. “we are living legends.”

“Yeah, well remember how we got caught?”

Lance paused in thought before the grin grew wider.

“Planet of origin now! Before-“

“Okay, I don’t know the whole story,” Pidge chimed in, a little louder than intended. She attempted to keep the stall tactic going, having now caught on. Her eyes shifted nervously between the increasingly angry Galra commander and her friends.

And then there was that distinct sound of an engine. It was getting louder, and subconsciously at the time, Pidge had needed to raise her voice.

“In short,” Lance answered, “duck!” Without notice, he dragged her to the ground next to where Hunk had already flung himself.

An alien tractor burst through the walls of the barn and promptly passed through the wide open space while knocking Yerk off his feet. It swept up dust, creating a cloud of reddish-brown dust before smashing through the opposite wall and giving a demonstration of the Doppler Effect. The Galra guards who had tried to come back and assist their commander were halted as they breathed in the dust and went into coughing fits.

Hunk let out a short, shrill whistle. The sound of the engine indicated it was coming back.

It did. This tractor had much in common with Earth tractors. Bright lights. Big tires. Being really heavy. It demolished yet another section of wall when making its entrance, bits of wood scattering all over the open space.

“Okay guys, grab on quick!” Hunk instructed above the noise.

Since the three of them had already practiced this on a live animal, (and paladin training had significantly helped boost their agility and strength) it was easier for them to grab hold of the fast moving vehicle and let it take them for a ride.

Within seconds they had wrecked the barn wall for the fourth time and were putting distance between them and the Galra.

“That. Was. Awesome!” Lance whooped as the tractor plowed into a field of unharvested grain. His hands would have been in the air if he’d not been using them to hold on for dear life. “Way better than just getting caught in the headlights! You can’t write stuff like this!”

“That was amazing, Hunk! How did you get it to come like that? You gotta show me the program when we get back!” The prospect of learning a cool new trick brought a sparkle to Pidge’s eyes.

Hunk turned his head to face Pidge and answer her question. His number one passion would always be good food, but engineering would always compliment it. “I didn’t do anything, actually. I just fixed the navigation system. You know like how you did all that cool Olkari mind stuff? This thing actually imprints on your mind! I’m telling it where to go by just thinking! It’s how their GPS here is near legendary!”

Pidge looked like she was going to explode from excitement and take their escape vehicle apart right then and there. “We have to take this thing back with us!”

“Uh, I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Lance said with a frown. “But the Galra are catching up.”

The tall strands swayed violently behind them in a much wider birth than the tractor was making. It didn’t make much difference though. The trio emerged from the field and came to a sudden stop. The pod was just in front of them, hidden by the next field.

Lance immediately set to work in his natural spot in the pilots seat, preparing for a quick takeoff.

Pidge made quick work of opening the back. “Hurry Hunk get it inside!”

Hunk looked around worriedly. “Keprin isn’t here. She was supposed to get here first.” He kept his mind occupied by directing the tractor into the back of the pod. It barely fit.

“Who’s Keprin? You already have a girlfriend, Hunk.” Pidge asked while coaxing the machine in and closing the pod door. She danced in place out of pure giddiness.

“A Galra kid. She’s the one who saved our butts. Distracted the guards and told me how the space tractor worked.”

“We gotta get out of here now, Hunk,” Lance said seriously. “We have no way to fight back right now. They’ll find us out sooner than later if we wait any longer.”

“I’m not leaving her,” Hunk responded, standing his ground.

“We can come back. Just like we did for the Balmerans.”

“I don’t think she has that kind of time, guys. I have this feeling, that if we leave her here, we won’t see her again.”

In the end, the decision was made for the paladins, not that. In the time they spent discussing, commander Yerk had arrived in his speeder, with all eight of his men, and one squirming adolescent in his claw.

“I knew you three looked familiar,” he began with a sneer, which curled up into an evil grin. “If you are who I think you are, then you will step away from your ship and surrender to me.” He unsheathed his blade once more and placed the sharp edge dangerously close to Keprin’s neck. She bristled in fear and made several attempts to hide it.

No one moved for nearly ten tics.

Hunk was the nearest and first to raise his hands in surrender.

Lance sighed heavily. “I guess there’s no helping it.” He jumped out of the pod and raised his own hands.

Pidge followed wordlessly in kind. It did nothing to hide the dangerous and calculating look in her eyes. There was no doubt between the three of them they would get out of this.

Admittedly though, it didn’t look good.

Keprin found her voice in her concern for her new friend. “Don’t do it! He’s going to kill us all anyway.”

Yerk squeezed her arm uncomfortably. “You stay silent brat. You’ve done your duty to the Empire by leading me to the Paladins of Voltron. Now you can die with some honor instead of a useless traitor like your father.”

“Not if I kill you first!” Keprin raged.

Yerk laughed wickedly. “All bark and no bite, just like your father. His compassion for the enemy was always going to get him killed. I am just glad it was I who had the honor.”

It all happened very quickly.

Bright lights suddenly flooded the area, shining directly into the eyes of the Galra, causing Yerk to loosen his grip on his hostage.

Hunk’s fist collided with Yerk’s face before the yellow paladin could even process what he was doing.

“Woah” Lance’s voice broke the silence. “Nice!”

“Anyone else want to try?” Hunk dared the remaining guards, the bright lights behind him casting him in a much more menacing light than was typical. He was in rare form, but if Hunk had one rule it was to never, ever threaten his friends.

The soldiers took one look at the massive indentation on their commander’s face, the pure fury on the face of their enemy, and the massive tractor that had rolled itself back out of the ship and currently revving menacingly behind Hunk before they all dropped their melee weapons, turned around, and left.

Pidge slowly closed her gaping mouth. “Well. That’s one way to do it.”

Keprin’s tight hug snapped Hunk back to reality. “Thank you for keeping your promise,” she whispered.

Hunk sighed in relief and hugged her back, smile back on his face. “You asked me what my job was. I said I like to try food, but, this, right here? Helping people across the universe? That’s my real job.” They both closed their eyes to soak in the warm feeling of a good hug.

“I can’t believe that you guys are the actual Paladins of Voltron,” she said in amazement. “I just thought you were actors!”

A loud rumble interrupted the touching moment, catching both Hunk and Keprin off guard. Their eyes widened simultaneously in surprise and comical worry.

“Sorry, that one’s on me guys,” Lance admitted in embarrassment. Three sets of eyebrows raised in unison. The blue paladin gave them his best ‘really?’ expression. “I’m hungry,” he complained. “We were here way longer than you said we would and I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

“I wanna get back and take the space tractor apart!” Pidge rattled off.

“I agree with getting back to the Castle asap. We don’t have any weapons if the Galra come back,” Hunk agreed.

Keprin smiled at the friendly antics. “We’ll be a lot safer once we leave the atmosphere. Commander Yerk had the weather satellite primed to fire lasers at us, but we can shoot it down with your shotgun! Hunk promised I could have it,” she said excitedly.

There was a heavy silence between the paladins.

“…we’d better contact Allura.”

——-

Hunk woke up in his bed on the Castle. He felt rested, not starving, and all of the residual aches and pains from the previous day were gone. He was safe. His friends were all safe.

At least until the next battle against the Galra. Hunk could only control so much. But he would protect them when the time came.

His ‘morning’ routine was slow. Enjoy the shower - stand in the hot water for way too long. Laze on his bed for a few minutes after putting on an article of clothing. There was nothing to rush to. No attacks. No training scheduled. No Coalition talks.

Finally, Hunk made his way to the kitchen, on full automation. Yawning, he turned the usual corners and walked down the familiar hallways. As he got closer, the scent of something very wrong caught his nose.

His eyes widened as he recognized it. Something was burning.

He ran the rest of the way, fully awake now.

When he arrived, smoke already filled the area and the sound of the fire suppressors filled the air.

“Hey, is everybody okay?” he yelled frantically.

There was much coughing but soon Lance’s voice gave the all clear. The smoke dissipated and Hunk could see everyone was in the kitchen.

“I told you it was a bad idea to leave it in there too long.” Keprin sat on the island, an unimpressed look on her face. Keith stood next to her in his casual clothes, waving away some lingering smoke. The two of them had bonded over their newly (ish) discovered Blade heritage. Later that day the two of them were planning to meet with Kolivan at a safehouse to hand over the data that Keprin’s father had compiled on his mission, cleverly hidden in the hilt of the blade. She was still deciding whether to keep the knife and go into seclusion with the Blades, or never see the knife again and go where she wanted within the Coalition.

She didn’t seem weighed down by the looming decision at the moment, expressing an unimpressed look down to her right. A vaguely familiar pitch black cylinder sat there in a baking tin.

“A minor inconvenience for the Castle, but we have succeeded beyond my expectations!” Coran exclaimed, taking the finished product out of it’s tin and onto a plate. “It looks exactly like a Plentserian loaf, right down to the texture!”

“Happy birthday, Hunk!” Lance said, jumping out in front of everyone to give his friend a quick hug. Hunk gave him one back without a thought.

“Oh, uh, is that what this is about? You all tried to make me a birthday… cake?” Despite the disastrous looking cake, he began to tear up at just the concept of his team doing this for him.

“Lance told us about your birthday sixth sense,” Shiro said, his smile holding a hint of laughter. “We all wanted to do something for you, especially after the ordeal you went through yesterday.”

“The Castle is equipped for more… stately parties,” Allura explained, a flush on her cheeks indicating she was a bit embarrassed by the whole mess. “However Lance and Pidge explained about the birthday cake, and food we can at least attempt to replicate. We didn’t have yearly parties celebrating an individual’s birth on Altea. It is a wonderful tradition that I would like to observe with the rest of you.”

Coran presented the ‘cake’ to Hunk, who took it, but remained completely unconvinced and concerned. “Happy Day of Birth, Number Two!”

Hunk glanced over to Pidge, who was standing over by Keith and Keprin. “We used all the supplies you brought back from Roande Seven. So, in theory, it should be a chocolate cake.” She gave him a shrug and the most sympathetic look she could muster while mouthing a silent ‘sorry’.

The yellow paladin looked down at the bundle in his hands. It looked awful. There was no way around it. The only thing about a birthday cake that it resembled was its shape, a shape that didn’t even look fun. There were lumps of various size around the outside, as if there was burnt sugar encasing it.

However, Hunk had traveled across the universe and discovered that often times, the more disgusting a thing looked, the more tasty it was. Notably that did not apply to anything that Coran made.

There were, however, three and a half humans who contributed to the making of this… whatever it was. So there was a decent chance it might actually end up tasting like a cake. He forced a smile and concentrated on the fact that it was the thought that counted. “That’s really nice of you guys, I’m sure you worked pretty hard on it.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “You have no idea. We didn’t have any eggs, or baking powder, so we threw in some Altean spices that looked like they might do the trick.” He paused, then whispered into Hunk’s ear, “I think I saw it move in the oven.”

Thoroughly disturbed, Hunk gulped. “Th-thanks everyone. I’m sure it’s absolutely delicious.” He tore off a piece with his fingers and placed it into his mouth quickly, chewing to get the full flavor. His eyes bulged and he visibly strained to hold back tears of pain.

His tongue burned. The texture was that of sandpaper on the surface. When his teeth got to the gooey interior it was glue-like, even to the point of straining to open his mouth again. He stilled his whole mouth in shock… until the piece of cake mush started to move without his help.

He swallowed out of instinct more than anything else.

“…I told you he’d hate it.” At least Keprin seemed amused, telling by the smirk on her face.

The rest of them waited expectantly, some more eager than others.

Hunk thought of several things he could say about the cake. None of them were nice. But these were his friends. Friends whom he was stuck with trillions of miles away from anything that resembled home. These were people he genuinely liked. Friends he would gladly take a bullet for, and for whom he would take the extra effort to make sure they were never in that situation.

“It’s the worst thing I’ve ever eaten,” he said flatly.

The anticipation in the room completely deflated. There were visible sights of relief from everyone but the Alteans.

Coran examined the loaf with an analytical eye. “Perhaps we did leave it in the oven a tic too long,” he conceded.

“I think that’s the last time we let Shiro watch the oven,” Pidge said. “He needs to sleep in an actual bed.”

“You’re one to talk, Pidge,” Shiro quickly retorted, more embarrassed than anything. “And besides, I don’t think it would have helped. It looked pretty sickly before we put it in the oven.”

Allura was clearly disappointed. “That is unfortunate. I was looking forward to trying an authentic Earth Birthday Cake.”

“I don’t know if it’ll be authentic, but I can get it a try,” Hunk said. He clapped for attention, straightening up and looking as stern as he could muster. “Everybody out of my kitchen and no peeking until I’m finished.”

Everyone left, none refuting that the kitchen did indeed belong to Hunk. They each wished him a better ‘day after birthday’ as they left.

Keprin followed out on Keith’s heels. She stopped to give him a big hug. “Thanks again for everything. I never thought I’d be out here in space with Voltron of all things.”

Hunk gave her a genuine smile as he knelt down to hug her back. “Don’t forget friends with all the paladins.”

She let go, smile fading as she looked between him and Keith. “You’ll come see me off right?”

“Of course I will. I’ll even suffer a burnt cake if I have to,” he promised.

“It’s a date then! Lance and Coran promised me a tour of the Castle, so I’ll be with them if you need help with baking!”

“You’re the only one allowed in here if you want to help. You’re the only one I trust with the cooking,” the second sentence whispered. The exasperated look on Keith’s face showed it wasn’t quite soft enough. The two chefs shared a giggle.

“I’ll see you later!” Keprin jolted off to find her promised tour guides.

Keith waited until she was down the hallway before beginning to leave himself. “I’ll be on the training deck until it’s time to go.”

“Uh, Keith, hold up a tic.”

Confused, Keith turned back around. “What?”

Looking embarrassed, Hunk rubbed the back of his neck. “So uh, you know we’re friends right? Like, I meant what I said we’re like brothers. We’re tight. I mean, we share a mind inside of a giant robot.”

Keith blinked, clearly surprised. “Yeah, I kinda got that from the hug you gave me back then. It was nice,” he said with a smile. “And we work well together.”

“Yeah so - wait what? No, I’m supposed to be giving you the pep talk here.”

“It’s fine, Hunk. I’m doing important work and so are you. I already had this talk with Allura.”

“Oh. Well, what I’m trying to say is that we’re friends. I care a lot about you and your feelings. So if I say something that’s weird or you don’t like, you gotta tell me. I’m a terrible and nosy person and I’m sorry.”

Keith stood silent, processing the words, and then smiling. “I’ve accepted the side of me that’s Galra,” he said simply. “It’s still a little weird, but I’ve always had this feeling that something didn’t add up.” He smiled a bit. “I don’t mind a question or two, but I’m still learning myself.”

“Deal, no Galra questions for a while then. Just as long as you come visit more often, okay? We all miss you.”

Keith’s mouth twitched. “I miss you guys too. I’ll try.”

“…hug it out?”

Keith snorted and obliged into Hunk’s waiting arms. “Always.” He stepped back, but the smile remained. “I’m still going to the training room. I’ll leave you be so you can get to the cake. I’d like some before we go.”

“Done and done. If it turns out okay, I’ll send a second one with you two. You’ll have to tell me how the Blades react to it. I’ve seen those nutrition bars that Kolivan carries around, they look too healthy.”

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate it. I’ll see you later today.” With a wave, Keith slipped off in the direction of the elevator.

Hunk stood in the doorway satisfied. He wasn’t going to let his friends slip away. Not if he could do something about it.

It was his best birthday yet.

#I hope you liked it!#reblogs and comments always appreciated #hunk birthday week #hunkbday #vld #voltron #voltron legendary defender #my writing

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imagining-supernatural · 7 years ago

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Risk Being Seen

Summary of anonymous request: Just after beginning to hunt with the Winchesters, the reader hears an out-of-context conversation leading her to think they’re homophobic. After growing up in a very homophobic environment, she keeps her long time girlfriend, Charlie, a secret and continues to hunt with the Winchesters. (Full request at end)

Word Count: 3300

Warnings: Homophobic themes, implied/referenced smut

Version en Español: Arriesgándonos A Ser Vistos

“Your need for acceptance can make you invisible in this world. Don't let anything stand in the way of the light that shines through this form. Risk being seen in all of your glory.” ~Jim Carrey

Hunting with a new partner always required a lot of changes. And hunting with two new partners was even worse. Plus, the two partners were also brothers who had been hunting together their whole life, so you were definitely the third wheel.

But the Winchesters had offered you a spot in their car and who were you to turn down a chance to hunt with the legendary Winchester brothers? You were sure that just a week with them would expand your working knowledge of the hunting life. And if you could stay with them for a few months? Well, you would definitely become a much better hunter.

You really wanted this thing with them to last because not only were they amazing hunters, but in the short time you’d known them, you also saw that they were genuinely nice guys. Good people. It wasn’t too often you found people you got along with and who knew about the life.

A few days after you officially claimed your spot in the backseat of the impala, you were walking up to the booth after sneaking away to the bathroom and overheard part of a conversation that dropped a giant boulder right in your stomach.

“—And those gays are in everything now. They’re taking over Hollywood. It seems like every show has to have some character be gay now.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah. That’s stupid.”

Luckily, neither brother noticed you coming back, so you had enough time to back away and dash into the bathroom again. Your chest felt tight as tears of disappointment gathered in the corners of your eyes.

Before you could dive too deep back into your past self’s pit of darkness, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and scrolled through your contacts until you found Charlie’s name. A quick tap of your finger and her picture filled your screen while your phone dialed her number. Just the sight of your beautiful red-headed girlfriend made you feel a little better.

“Hey bitch, what’s up?” She greeted happily. Even her voice was calming, but not enough for you to convince yourself to go back and join the Winchesters.

“Y/N/N,” she said in a quieter voice when you didn’t reply right away. “What’s going on?”

“I thought they would be different,” you mumbled.

“You thought who would be different?”

“The Winchesters. I thought that I would be able to be myself and we could be a happy little trio of monster killing badasses. But if I tell them about us, then I think that’s the end.”

Turning down a shot at learning from the best of the hunters would be one of the worst decisions of your life. And it wasn’t like hiding your sexuality would be such a hard thing. You’d had years of practice before coming out to your family and consequently getting disowned.

“What’d they do?”

“Just some stupid comment about how they hate that the gays are taking over the entertainment industry.”

Charlie scoffed. “Yeah. Isn’t it such a horrible time? How dare Hollywood actually represent a group of people who exist? That’s just the worst.”

Her sarcasm made you feel a little better, as it always did. God, how you loved that woman. She always knew just the right thing to say whenever you needed to hear something.

“Exactly. There’s absolutely no reason for Hollywood to do anything with anyone other than a group of straight, white, males. Those are the only people who really matter in the world. The only group that needs representation.”

“Those Winchesters don’t know what they’re talking about,” Charlie broke the chain of sarcasm. “Look, honey, if they can’t accept you for who you are, then it’s their loss. Because anyone who turns down the chance to get to know you is insane. You’re the best woman I know and that’s why I fell in love with you.”

Her compliments always made you blush, and this time was no exception. “Thanks, C. I love you too.”

“But… but you said that these two morons are the best of the hunters, right?”

“Yeah,” you grumbled, mind flashing to the time they saved your life on a hunt that you had totally researched the wrong monster. “And, well, it’s not like they need to know every part of my life. I won’t be with them 24/7, so I’ll definitely have time to come visit you.”

Charlie’s heavy sigh on the other end of the line matched how you felt exactly. “Baby, you do what you need to do. I’ll love you no matter what, and we’ve all been in these situations where we need to hide this part of us. And if these two idiots will help you learn how to stay alive while saving other people…”

“I hate that I have to. I just want to announce to the world that I have the hottest, sexiest, smartest, nerdiest girlfriend ever.”

“Well, you just told me, and I’m your entire world, right babe?”

That earned a laugh from you. “Oh my God, you’re so cheesy!”

“I stole that from one of those bro memes.”

“You love those memes.”

“Not as much as I love you.”

Honestly, every time you talked to Charlie, it felt like your heart dissolved in your chest and the warm particles found their way into your bloodstream, making you all warm and fuzzy all over your body. This conversation was exactly the fortification you needed to put up a wall before heading back to the Winchesters.

“Aw stop, C. You’re making me blush.”

“Skype me when you get to your hotel room tonight and I’ll make you do more than blush. But until then, you do what you gotta. If being with those Winchesters will help you learn how to kill monsters better and save the world, then I can handle being your secret girlfriend.”

What in the world had you done to deserve such a perfect angelic girlfriend like her? You were seriously the luckiest girl on this planet. “I love you so much, C. I’ll talk to you tonight.”

~~Three Years Later~~

“I found a hunt,” you announced. The hesitancy in your voice made both brothers instantly alert.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s a haunting or something at Richard Roman Enterprises. Figured we could look into it.”

Bringing the Winchesters onto this hunt was risky, but something told you that you would need the backup. And when it came to protecting your girlfriend, you would do anything.

“Isn’t that around where you sneak off to every few weeks?” Sam asked, and Dean immediately perked up.

“Did your boyfriend tell you about this ghost? Are we finally gonna be able to meet the lucky guy?”

At Dean’s suggestive eyebrow wiggle, you just rolled your eyes. He was constantly teasing you about the guy that you frequently snuck away to meet. It wasn’t hard to guess that you definitely had a significant other. After all, you always came back much happier and Dean was correct to assume that you’d had a week of mind-blowing sex.

It just wasn’t the kind of sex that he was imagining.

“My friend did. So I’m heading that way, and I would really like the backup.”

After hunting together for three years, the brothers trusted you enough that they didn’t need to ask too many more questions before agreeing to come along.

“So,” Dean started once you were on the road. “This friend of yours. Is she hot?”

Oh God. Not this.

“She’s way out of your league, Dean. Don’t embarrass yourself.”

“So that’s a yes on the hot thing. Single?”

“Not even close. Seriously, dude. Just forget about her. There are plenty of other women in the city for you to glom onto.”

You finally managed to get the conversation back to your normal routes and the rest of the drive passed relatively quickly. Of course, you started overthinking about how you should act with Charlie around the boys. Girls who were just friends hugged, right? But, like, how long should you linger? And how close should you stand to her so you don’t draw any suspicion? Cheek kisses were also normal things, right?

Damn it. You hated this. After leaving your family, you thought you’d never do this again. That you could always be open about who you were dating.

Three years with the Winchesters… maybe they would be more understanding now?

Better to not risk it.

Dean pulled up to the park that Charlie told you to meet her at, and the three of you got out of the car. Almost immediately, you caught sight of the red-headed beauty waiting for you and an instant smile lit your face.

Normal friends hugged.

So you quickly made your way over to her and pulled her into your arms.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered into her ear.

“Show me just how much you’ve missed me when we get some alone time tonight.”

And there goes your heart. Dissolving and sending warm bursts throughout your blood stream. However, you would have to control that until later when you were at her apartment and the boys were at the hotel room. Because girls had sleepovers with their friends who were also girls. That was normal.

Friends.

That’s it for now.

You stepped back from the tight hug and motioned towards the Winchesters. “C, this is Sam and Dean. Guys, this is Charlie.”

“So you’re the Winchesters.” You caught onto the judgement in her voice, but hoped that the boys didn’t. Charlie wasn’t their biggest fan. She understood why you stayed with them despite them not accepting all part of you, but she still hated them.

But after a few minutes she cooled down enough to lead everyone over to a restaurant where you ate and talked about the ghost or whatever it was that was haunting her work. The boys managed to focus entirely on the case, but Charlie had her hand on your thigh under the table and you couldn’t handle it anymore. “Hey, C? I gotta go to the bathroom. You wanna…”

You didn’t have to ask twice, and the boys didn’t even raise their eyebrows. Women always went to the bathroom in herds. It was a normal thing. But as soon as you were in the bathroom, Charlie’s hands were on your hips and she was kissing you with all of the missed kisses from the last two months since you’d seen each other. Her cheeks were so soft under your fingers and you pushed her back until the wall was holding her up.

“You’re staying with me tonight, right? They won’t make you stay and research?” Her voice was already breathless and you’d only had her alone for less than a minute. “Because if they try to keep you away from me, I might just have to gank them myself.”

You pulled away from where you’d been peppering kisses down her neck and grinned. “Hey, you used ganked right!”

“Well, my girl’s a super badass hunter, so I figured I better get all up in the lingo.”

“Aaaaand you ruined it,” you teased. “But yeah. I’m staying with you.”

“Good. We’d better get back out there, then.”

The ghost was dead. Well, dead again. Gone. The ghost was gone. The hunt was over. And since you’d come with the Winchesters, you had to leave with them too. Well, you supposed, you could hitchhike back to Kansas, but it would be easier to go with them now and come back for a longer visit later.

“Okay, I get what you’ve been saying. They are nice guys.” Charlie was lounging on her couch while you took one last look around her place to make sure you weren’t forgetting anything important. “Maybe you read them wrong before? They could be cool about you being gay.”

Your eyes landed on a framed picture on a bookshelf and a bittersweet sigh escaped your lips. You and Charlie had gone to an amusement park a few years ago and spent the day laughing, screaming, and enjoying each other’s company as you went on every ride you could. As you did every time you were together, you took selfies liberally. Everywhere you could, whenever possible, you documented your lives together. This picture had been taken at the top of the Ferris Wheel. It had been a wonderful view. The bright colors of the amusement park were laid out behind you two like a child’s board game.

But it wasn’t the park that kept your attention.

Charlie had been laughing when you took the picture. You couldn’t remember the exact joke you’d just told her, but you could remember the magical sound of her laughter as you leaned in and kissed her cheek just as you snapped the picture.

It had been a good day.

“They might be. But I just… I don’t know, C. I don’t want to keep hiding,” you plopped down next to her on the couch, picture still in hand. “But I’ve never had hunting partners this good before. We just click and I don’t want to risk it. But I hate keeping us a secret.”

She reached over and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. You leaned into her touch, knowing it was going to be a long few weeks before you would feel it again.

“You consider them your friends, right?”

You just nodded.

“Then they should accept you for who you really are.”

“That’s what everyone said about my family,” you mumbled, remembering the major disaster that had turned out to be. But before Charlie could say anything comforting, you kept talking through it. “But… But I was happier after I told them. Well, not right away. And I still miss them. But it was freeing after a while. Realizing that I didn’t have to sneak around and I didn’t have that weight of their judgement on me. I… Okay. I’m going to tell them.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. If they can’t accept me as I am, then they don’t deserve me.”

“Damn right, bitch!”

“I’m not going to hide anymore.”

“Oh, sweet Sansa Stark, you’re turning me on right now,” Charlie breathed and the next thing you knew, she was pushing you back on the couch. “I love when you get all determined and shit.”

Carefully, you set the picture down on the coffee table before wrapping your arms around her shoulders and pulling her on top of you. “Just how turned on are you?”

“More turned on than Amy was when Jake took charge and planned that party at the cop convention in season four.”

“Oh, god,” you grinned. “You are turned on!”

She wasted no more time with words and crashed her lips into yours. With her weight on top of you, your hands exploring her body, and the intoxicating taste of her on your lips, you weren’t aware of anything else in the world. It didn’t even register that someone had opened the front door until they spoke.

“Hey, Y/N, we got a call from—oh.”

“Dean!” Both you and Charlie had frozen, but when Sam came in and raised his eyebrows at the sight, you both scrambled to sit up. For a brief moment, you faltered in your resolve, remembering the horror after your family found out.

But then Charlie scooted away a few inches and you panicked. You needed her, the Winchesters be damned. So you grabbed her hand to keep her from moving further.

A small grin covered Dean’s face and he folded his arms. “So this is who you’ve been sneaking away to see all these years.”

“Um, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Sam asked, pushing further into the room and taking a seat on the coffee table. He picked up the framed picture of you and Charlie beside him and studied it with careful eyes.

“Because… because…”

“Because she overheard you two being dickheaded, homophobic jerkasses, but you guys are the best in the biz so she wanted to stick around and learn from you,” Charlie supplied for you.

“What?” Sam’s head jerked up in disbelief. “When did you hear that?”

“Um, three years ago. It was at a diner and Dean said something about how he hated that the gays are taking over Hollywood and you agreed that it was stupid, Sam.”

Dean’s lips moved silently and he stared off into the distance like always did when he was trying to conjure up a memory, and Sam looked just as confused. Then Dean’s face cleared and he came to sit next to Sam on the table.

“Y/N, I was telling Sam about a conversation I had with some other dickheaded, homophobic jerkass who thought that. Sam agreed that it was stupid and offensive that he said that. We don’t think that. I swear.”

“Really?” Was that all this was? A three-year misunderstanding?

“Yes, really,” Sam said. He turned the picture around so you could see your girlfriend’s laughing face. “You love who you love and look at how happy she makes you. You shouldn’t have to pretend otherwise. I’m sorry if I’ve ever done anything else to make you feel like you weren’t welcome.”

A quick perusal of the past three years didn’t bring up anything else. “You didn’t. I just don’t have the best history at coming out to people and so that one conversation just kinda… cemented everything.”

“Well this conversation changed it, right? We’re good?”

Their acceptance brought tears to your eyes and you nodded before slipping your hand out of Charlies to hug both brothers. It was the complete opposite of your family. But, what was it that Bobby always said? Family don’t end in blood. This was your family now.

“’m glad we cleared this up, kid.”

“Me too, Dean. And I’m sorry I thought you guys were…”

“Dickheaded, homophobic jerkasses,” Charlie piped up and you glanced back at her with a tender smile.

“Yeah. Thanks, babe. Sorry I ever thought you were dickheaded, homophobic jerkasses.”

“No need to apologize. But I actually came in to tell you that I got a call from Taylor. He needs some backup on a hunt in Tennessee. But Sam and I can take it if you want to stay here for a bit.”

You shook your head. “Nah. Taylor’s an idiot so you’ll need backup just to deal with him. Besides, I’ll be back here soon enough.”

“You better, bitch,” Charlie grabbed the lapels of your jacket and pulled you to her for a quick kiss. After so long of hiding from the Winchesters, the PDA was a little stilted, but you pushed past it and let your heart dissolve.

“We’ll meet you at the car in five minutes.” Sam and Dean gracefully excused themselves and Charlie smiled at you which sent your neurons firing off like fireworks.

“I’m glad that worked out.”

“Me too.” After another not-so-quick kiss and some goodbyes, you stood and grabbed your bag. You were on the porch when you heard Charlie calling for you.

She handed you the framed photo from the top of the Ferris Wheel. “Take this. I’ll print another for myself, but you should keep this one. Put it in your room at the bunker.”

Your smile couldn’t be contained as your fingers closed around the simple black frame. “Thanks, C. I love you so much.”

“Love you too, baby. Now go save some lives and be the badass Diaz to my lovely, eccentric Gina!”

“Oh god, they’re so perfect for each other,” you couldn’t help but gush about your favorite ship on Brooklyn Nine-Nine.

“So perfect.”

You pulled her in for another kiss, fully aware that Sam and Dean could see from the Impala. That anyone, really, could see. “I’ll call you tonight. Love you.”

Full request by anon: Lesbian reader starts hunting with the Winchesters, but after hearing a conversation out of context she assumes that the Winchesters are homophobic. Since she grew up in a very homophobic environment she doesn't think of leaving and instead doesn't tell them about it or about her girlfriend, Charlie (kinda AU where they don't know Charlie). Flash forward couple years and they're on a hunt and run into Charlie, who is still reader's serious long distance girlfriend. Bonus points if she knows about the hunting life and totally gets it, but kinda hates Sam and Dean bc she thinks they're homophobic and so messes with them by acting ignorant. THANKS, this is a really personal request for me right now.

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flowerconcept-blog · 8 years ago

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soulmate!yuta

soulmates can basically see what the other is doing in their dreams, but it usually only works if one of them is asleep and the other is awake

as children it's pretty rare to have frequent dreams, but the closer you get to meeting your soulmate the more likely you are to see thru their eyes. there are also soulmate dreams that happen when both soulmates are asleep, and some soulmate couples who have a strong bond can interact with each other in those dreams and remember them when they wake up

as a kid you never really had the dreams that some of your friends talked about, but you figured it was good because it meant your soulmate was sleeping well!!!!!

it wasn't until you were almost done with high school that you started having more dreams...... short ones but dreams nonetheless, and in most of them you knew your soulmate was practicing for something

and you also knew he was in seoul now..... whereas before in your rare dreams you knew he was in japan somewhere

knowing he was close to you was comforting but also worried you, because ...... it made the concept of meeting him realer and for all your life you had gotten used to the distance between you

meanwhile, yuta has always been a sucker for the idea of meeting his soulmate, and when he got into sm he knew he was going to be closer to his soulmate

when he first met his members he told all of them that his soulmate was in seoul and they were like ........ cool? i guess?

but even though you're closer now, it’s only after he debuts that he really starts to dream about you, mostly because he has to nap so much that whenever he dozes off for half an hour he'll see you having lunch with friends or studying for a test or in class

and to see through your eyes, knowing that you're living a normal life happily and pursuing an education, makes him really proud even though you haven't met

right when he wakes up from naps he'll babble to whoever will listen about what his soulmate is doing, mostly because he wants to hold onto the dreams and hold onto you in some way

leading up to his debut and after his debut, your dreams become more frequent, too, but you're dreaming of him at odd hours rehearsing and you wonder what on earth your soulmate could be doing

until one day you have a dream of performing in front of a large audience and when you wake up still full of adrenaline you realize your soulmate must be an idol?!?!???

and suddenly it all clicks ........ the fact that he's been rehearsing for something for so long ........ the dreams in mirrored rooms ...... the blurry faces of the boys he rooms with in that small apartment

but even though you've realized this, you still dont know who your soulmate is!!!!! because try as hard as you can you can't remember his name

as nct 127 gets more and more successful you get used to the dreams of cameras and huge stadiums and foreign countries, even though you worry that your soulmate isn’t getting enough sleep

you wish you led a more exciting life so your soulmate could have dreams as exciting as yours are, but little do you know yuta treasures your ordinary part time job and slightly dingy apartment

then ....... one day you're shopping and you see a cardboard cutout of a beautiful idol ..... and for a moment you try to figure out where you know him from but then you suddenly know that its your soulmate

for a while you don't know what to do with the information

because ,,,,,,,,, as much as you'd like to go to a fansign or something to meet him ,,,,,,, you're really afraid because nakamoto yuta of nct 127 is an idol and he looks like he isn't real and you're just you ,,,,,

and what if you go and he doesn't recognize you? or even worse, he rejects you?? you can't imagine how many crazy fans have claimed to be his soulmate and you don't want to be grouped in with them

you don't mean to, but the fear messes with your soul bond, and you stop having the soulmate dreams….. and also yuta isnt seeing your life in dreams anymore....... or he doesn't remember the dreams anymore, but either way he misses you and he's worried about you

finally tho your best friend gets tired of seeing you moping….. and she tricks you and drags you to an nct fansign event!!!!!!!

when you realize where you are and you see yuta in real life your heart stops!!! because how can one person be so perfect ??? and how can that person be your SOULMATE????? you really try to run away but your best friend is like “listen im getting my album signed and you are coming with me”

as she moves down the line of boys (boys you remember from your dreams, boys a part of you feels like you know from all those years yuta spent with them) you get more and more nervous and your heart is beating so hard in your chest

until finally you’re in front of yuta …. and he’s laughing at something the boy next to him said and you’re honestly about to pass out until he looks at you and you make eye contact and suddenly …… you feel this calm wash over you

and nakamoto yuta smiles the cheesiest grin in the world and leans forward and goes “i knew my soulmate was beautiful, but how can someone be so lovely~~~”

you feel your entire face go red and suddenly you’re being shuffled along to the next boy and yuta is smiling at the next fan in line

you’re almost worried that he was using a generic line on you when a staff member taps you on the shoulder and asks if you can come to the backstage waiting area until the end of the fansign

and ur like ??!??!??!??! and instinctively look over to yuta, who catches your eye and gives the smallest lil wink and you…… honestly how did you end up with such a greasy soulmate……….

but of course you go with the staff and settle in to wait to meet yuta ,,, trying to keep calm but your hands are shaking as you try to scroll through instagram

meanwhile yuta can’t contain his excitement, because the second he saw you he knew you were his soulmate!!! and to know you’re waiting for him makes him bounce a little in his seat like a kid again

doyoung is like……… chill tf out

but as soon as the fansign is over yuta practically sprints to the waiting room, and before you know it he’s pulling you into his arms and lifting you off the ground like it’s a drama or something

as soon as he puts you down he introduces himself and when you tell him your name he’s like “ah… pretty~~” and you honestly don’t know if he is actually like this or if he’s still in idol mode

you only get to spend like 20 minutes together before his manager is like “yuta we have to go” but you exchange numbers and he promises that he’ll tell you the second he has any free time

it’s like a week and a half before he calls you asking if you’re free, but he texts you as much as he can and you feel like you’ve already been friends for years by the time he’s picking you up at your apartment in a hat and mask

but when he takes your hand and the two of you walk to a little restaurant down the street, it feels right ,,,,, and when he kisses you on the cheek at your door ,,,,,, it feels right

after the first couple of dates he dials down the greasy lines, but when you’re together he always wants to have physical contact of some sort, whether it’s holding your hand or wrapping an arm around you

when you’re over at the dorm he pulls you into his lap and glares at literally anyone who looks at you … and ur like “yuta stop it you’re my soulmate why would i bother with taeyong”

he enjoys biting/kissing your ear and it always makes you squirm and scold him which makes him enjoy it even more

always apologizes to you for not being able to take you out on extravagant dates because he always has to keep it low profile to avoid scandals, but you tell him that as long as you’re with him it’s okay…… then immediately cringe after you’ve said it because he starts to squeal about how sweet you are

but even though he loves when you’re affectionate he loves it just as much when you’re like “yuta. those pants are hideous” or text him photos of his mushroom hair laughing at him or EVEN BETTER when you gang up on doyoung with him

brings you back little gifts from every single place he travels to and you have a little bookshelf full of them ,,,,,,,,,,, pretends he hates being little spoon but secretly really enjoys it,,,,,,,,, buys you stuffed animals and is like “for when i can’t cuddle with you~~~”

once you’ve been together for a while you guys start to share dreams, and he honestly thrives off of it when he’s on tour because it’s like you’re with him

in interviews or streams he’s always doing corny shit and then texts you like “did u see me on vlive today???? did u??? did u????” and ur like “yes”

really really good at picking up on your moods and is really good at making you happy, whether it’s with a cute selfie or a late night phone call or he sneaks out to come see you

and even though you mess around with him sometimes, you’re always there for him when he’s not feeling his best or is worried he’s not good enough for nct or sm or even you…… the second he doesn’t send a heart emoji with his “hello” ur like “what’s wrong my osaka prince?????”

he really regrets having to be apart so much but promises you that when the two of you are older he’ll buy a pretty house wherever you want to live and you’ll spend the rest of your days together

#nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #yuta scenarios #nakamoto yuta scenarios #yuta fluff #for anon!!! i thought i would answer asks but im changing my mind again.... plz bear with me #yuta is ridiculous and i really love him for it 🌸🌸!!!!!#yuta #nct #💌

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thedefinitionofbts · 8 years ago

Text

Our First and Last (Ch. 5)

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 |

Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 (Final)

Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (MAIN) | Park Jimin x Kim Taehyung | Jung Hoseok x Min Yoongi | Kim Namjoon x Kim Seokjin

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Soulmate Au, Scifi

Words: 2.2K

“Taehyung, you don’t understand, I almost exploded in there,” Jimin says as he takes a bite of his steak that Taehyung had neatly cut up into bite sized pieces and placed back on his plate.

Him and Taehyung were having their customary “date night”, eating out on a Friday evening after a long day of work. Today had been much like every other, the two psychologists went through session after session, cautiously navigating deeper and deeper into their patients’ minds and guiding them to healthier mental states. Both of them were very used to their jobs by now, but there were always tough patients, and Jeon Jungkook was undoubtedly one of them.

The restaurant atmosphere was relaxing, and the mood lighting made the aura quite romantic. The voices of other couples sitting at adjacent tables were drowned out by the light piano music playing in the background.

“The way he just stares me down and mocks me like I’m not even licensed to practice medicine” Jimin shakes his head with a huff.

“He sounds like a douche” Taehyung says, picking up his wine glass, swirling it gently, and taking a sip of the red liquid.

“Yeah, but have you read up on his research?” Jimin says, eyes lighting up at the thought of Jungkook’s accomplishments in the field of science and medicine.

“I thought you didn’t like him,” Taehyung says, raising an eyebrow and setting his glass down.

“I don’t, but that doesn’t change the fact that his work is absolutely amazing. I mean, balancing neurosurgeries and lab research like it’s a piece of cake. Not many people can do that you know?” Jimin sighs, eyes looking like he’s in a daze.

“Are you sure it’s not because of his visuals?” Taehyung says, chewing on his bite of steak and staring at Jimin with an expressionless face.

“Tae, I told you, you are waaaaay better looking than him.” Jimin responds while reaching over and patting the back of Taehyung’s hand that was resting on the cloth covered surface of the table.

The light brown haired boy doesn’t look convinced, but smiles and continues eating.

“Remember when we first met?” Jimin says, trying to change the topic and perhaps lighten the mood.

“How could I not?” Taehyung smirks, recalling the first time he had met the boy he was destined to be with.

Some thousands of years ago....

“Arrrgh! Did you do this?!” The King was livid, sinister eye’s burning like torch flames as they land on the little boy peaking out from behind one of the large ivory pillars. His heavy steps shake the floor of the entire palace as he rushes up the steps of the throne hall, toward said young prince who was trembling in fear.

“Father, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ Before the prince could finish, the back of the king’s hand had already made contact with the boy’s tender, sun-kissed cheeks. The loud slap echoes through the empty palace, resonating against the walls and almost shattering the stain glass windows.

“You’re a disgrace! A waste of a life form!” The King’s booming voice cut through the ringing in the boy’s ear, and the strong stench of liquor carried by his warm breath spreads like wildfire through the room.

Ever since the Queen died giving birth to him ten years ago, the King had planted all the blame on the prince, never failing to use him as a punching bag, channeling all of his frustrations on the poor boy. Being at the receiving end of the King’s rage wasn’t an occasional thing, in fact, the young prince was so used to this kind of beating that it’s all he’s ever known in his short and lonely life.

Although he had seen the King in a drunken rage plenty of times, this was one of the worst. So before the king could land another hand or foot on him, the young prince makes a run for it, not even looking back to see if the king would even bother to chase him down. He’ll probably be dragged back to the palace by the guards later, upon the king’s order like always.

Tears are streaming down his eyes, blurring his vision and choking his helpless gasps for air, but the golden brown haired boy continues to run like his life depended on it because at that moment, it probably did.

The palace is fading in the background as his frail legs carry him as far away from the awful place as he can go, across the moat, past the fortress, and deep into the forbidden forest.

He slows down only because the dense vegetation wouldn't allow him to continue at the speed he was sprinting. He keeps going; despite the thorny bushes cutting gashes into his golden skin and tearing at his custom tailored silk robe. He doesn’t even let the darkness or the fear of getting lost prevent him from traveling deeper and deeper into the forest.

It was late, the sun was setting, and darkness was creeping in as the shadows of the trees grew longer and longer, until there was almost no light remaining. The prince looks around, panting and feeling a different source of fear travel up his back, sending shivers down his spine.

“Is anybody there?” He croaks, not knowing if he actually wanted someone or something to answer or if he would feel calmer just greeted by silence.

“Hello?” He tries again.

Eerie Silence.

The prince makes a feeble attempt to call out again, but collapses from utter exhaustion. He uses his last ounce of energy to wrap his robe around his fragile body shivering from the sudden drop in temperature.

Right before he falls asleep, he hears a ruffling sound come from a nearby bush. Normally this would trigger a fight or flight response, but he’s too drained to even worry for his life then; and the last thing he sees through the slits of his drooping eyelids is a blurry flash of something fluffy and pink.

Then he passes out.

When he wakes up upon the first signs of light at dawn, the air is damp and the forest is covered in morning dew.

Eyes groggy and trying to adjust to the morning sunlight peaking through the thick trees, he squints and blinks a couple of times before the surrounding environment comes into view. He scans the area and registers everything as normal…except-

“Ahhhhh!!!” the young prince screams when his eyes land on the strange creature sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree and staring at him, big round eyes beaming, and head resting in between his hands.

“Oh, Taehyung, sorry for startling you” The creature with flawless cool-toned skin and pale pink hair says. He was a small human looking boy with a pair of glistening pupils that had lavender hues and a kind, nurturing smile that the prince had never had the luxury of encountering in his depressing life.

“W-who a-are you? And h-how d-do you know my name?” The prince asks in a shaky voice, feeling the urge to, but too shy to approach the fairy-like boy.

“It’s me, Jimin,” The boy says, confused as to why the prince doesn’t recognize him.

“Have we met before?” The prince, Taehyung, asks, trying to recall if he’s ever seen this strange but beautiful person around the palace, perhaps he’s one of the servants? But no, his features are too distinct to not stand out and leave a lasting impression. And Taehyung didn’t have any friends, nor has he ever met a single soul outside the palace.

Jimin’s eyes are wide now, and he’s waiting for Taehyung to burst out laughing and tell him this was all a joke, but the prince stays silent, waiting for Jimin to answer.

“No, this can’t be….” Jimin whispers under his breath, alarmed voice barely audible. He’s finally realized the day has come, and it takes all the strength he has in his petite body to stay calm and composed.

“Ummm, I’m not sure if I remember you” Taehyung suddenly says. “But I promise I will after today.” The prince attempts to give a reassuring smile, not knowing why, but feeling a sort of need to console the little fairy boy who’s sparkling eyes have been tarnished with hints of sadness.

“I have a long story to tell you” Jimin says as Taehyung slowly maneuvers over and sits down beside him on the fallen tree trunk.

“Oooo, I love stories” Taehyung’s youthful eyes light up and a wide boxy smile appears on his face. Jimin returns the reaction by giving the little prince an endearing smile, his eyes disappearing into half moons. He begins with a soothing, musical voice…

“It’s called ‘Our first and Last’”

The people on the streets are bustling about with their day, continuously moving, their motion unaltered, unaffected by anything else, much like the flow of time itself. It was rush hour, and the streets were noisy, filled with the frequent honk of cars, the screech of sudden breaks, and the occasional shout from a driver consumed by road rage.

You had just come out of another session with Dr. Kim, and this time it was much more comfortable. He finally stopped asking you tedious questions and moved on to doing what he liked to call “experiments” with you, which just consisted of making you fall asleep in his office and observing you. Which yeah, sounds creepy as hell, but it was pretty much the only way to tackle your problem.

Third session down. You sigh as you walk into the supermarket.

You were tasked with the duty of picking up what Hoseok liked to call “study snacks” in preparation for the all-nighter you were about to pull right before your final. He liked sweet things, but he also requested salty snacks to balance out the sweetness.

The world is all about balance; it takes two halves to make a whole.

Hoseok’s voice rings in your head and you can’t help but roll your eyes at how you thought of him even when he wasn’t around.

You scan the aisle for his favorite brand of potato chips when you see the familiar outline of curly black hair that wasn’t too long but not short either.

“Yoongi?” You say as you walk up to the guy you haven’t seen since your first session at the Park&Kim psychology clinic.

“Oh, it’s you” Yoongi says as he turns around to see the smile plastered on your face.

“Grocery shopping?” You ask, curiously peeking at his shopping cart full of food.

“Yeah” Yoongi grunts before turning his attention back to looking for the last item on the list of groceries he was tasked to pick up.

“Big family, huh?” You eye the stacks of microwave dinners and boxes of energy bars.

“It’s not for me” Yoongi says. “It’s…uh….for a friend.” He sighs, looking at the cart like he’s done this a million times. There’s an unspoken tiredness in his eyes, but it speaks of caring concern rather than annoyance.

“So you changed you appointments?” You ask, wondering why you never saw him back at the clinic after that first awkward introduction.

“Oh yeah, that wasn’t for me either” Yoongi says.

“For the friend?”

Yoongi nods. “He finally agreed to go, so my work is done there.” The sound of relief in his voice is unmistakable.

“Oh, I see” You nod, not knowing what more you can say now that you know you probably won’t run into him as often.

“Well, I’d better get going.” Yoongi says, as he waves.

“Yeah, ok, ummm, see you around I guess.” You wave back and although it might just be your imagination, but you see his lips curve into a small smile before he turns around and is off on his way.

“Dr. Jeon, can you describe all the details of the dream you had last night?”

Jungkook looks at Jimin. The pink haired psychologist stares back, un-phased by the intense look of despise in the neurosurgeon’s eyes.

“I was in a museum and it was raining outside” Jungkook huffs, not even bothering going into any more detail.

“Can you remember what was inside?” Jimin slowly begins to prod at Jungkook’s description, cautious not to get on the neurosurgeon’s bad side.

“Some random paintings, and this weird statue of an angel with black wings.” Jungkook says, crossing his arms as he leans back and closes his eyes. He had been in lab all night, and the sleepiness was finally catching up to him. He almost wanted to skip this session and just take a nap, but he knew Yoongi wouldn’t be happy if he did.

“Don’t tell me that’s supposed to be a sign of my pending death or something,” Jungkook says, ask he hears the scratch of pen on paper as Jimin begins to take notes.

“How did you feel when you were there?”

Jungkook furrows his eyebrows, eyes still closed. Jimin could tell he was actually taking his time to think before he said anything, which was a first.

“I was really happy, comfortable, but there’s a bit of nervousness accompanied by excitement.”

“Was anyone else there?”

Another long pause.

“It feels like I’m not alone. I know I’m not alone. But when I look around and there’s no one there.”

...

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