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shomatoriashi · 6 days ago

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01/03/25; 10:00pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when they realize that you’re the true mc from behind the screen ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

notes: this is just my own take on the self aware au! i know other creators who’ve written their own self aware au’s (and have executed them amazingly well!), but i hope that you readers will give my story a chance, too ♡

you never understood the hype that surrounded the game known as love and deepspace-

however, the moment sylus was announced as the newest love interest for this game-

to say you were mildly interested would have been the greatest understatement of the century. when his trailer was revealed, you swore you felt your knees clash together while basking in his pure, masculine beauty.

and his voice- dear god did it sound like pure silk against your ears!

needless to say, you downloaded lads the moment sylus dropped as the latest love interest. when you made your mc, you did your best to model her after your own appearance to the best of your abilities-

however, it seemed impossible to do.

the mc was just too petite and perfect, something that you could never achieve in real life. yet despite it all, you tried your best to customize her to match your features before starting the game. as you struggled with the missions in the main story, you were essentially grinding until the moment you could unlock sylus's story branch-

and the moment when you accomplished it, you were truly on cloud 9, taking an ungodly amount of screenshots each time sylus was on your phone's screen. you kept interacting with him in game, raising his affinity with you to level 50 in a mere few weeks.

it was embarrassing how much you adored this gorgeous man made up entirely of pixels. you always spent quality time with him, bringing him with you when you worked or had to study for an upcoming exam. each time you would glance at your phone and see his devastatingly handsome features cleaning his gun, you would grin and press a kiss on your screen (directly over his cheek!)

were you shameless for feeling so deeply about a fictional man-

absolutely yes. but did you care?

no.

after kissing sylus for what had to be the thousandth time that day, you would go back to your responsibilities, unaware that sylus could hear you and feel the sensation of your kisses against his cheek.

at first, it was maddening for sylus to realize that everything he's been through was made up by some writers at a company. every tragedy was forced upon him for the sake of a good story-

and he hated it.

he hated how his every word was essentially a script made up by that same company and how he was forced to interact with an mc that was just the same as the rest-

yet the moment he realized he could see you settled behind that woman's avatar-

sylus was intrigued, to say the least.

despite how you looked drastically different from the mc, something about you drew him to you more than the mc ever could. for starters, you were a true, living person who had a personality.

and you just seemed so alive each time sylus saw you. the more time he had spent with you, the more his feelings of curiosity turned into something tangible and real-

making sylus yearn for the day you would recognize him noticing you. he stops cleaning his gun just then, simply keeping his crimson gaze on your form as you wrote in your notebook. the hours continue to pass, yet sylus allows the quality time feature to go on even past the 30 minute mark, not stopping until you were done.

as your eyes go back to your phone, you were ready to quit the session when sylus purposely stops you, "no kiss this time? you wound me, little dove."

he basks in your wide eyed expression and the way your mouth was wide open in a gape, chuckling as you waved your hand over the screen-

and sylus was following your every movement.

"you can see me?"

"i think we've made that abundantly clear just now, little dove." he shakes his head, feeling his world tilt slightly when you pick up your phone.

"y-you just spoke to me, and i- i'm your little dove?" a dreamy expression crosses your features as you kept your gaze on sylus. he gives you a rare, tiny smile while reaffirming his nickname for you with a nod, "of course you are. you have always been my little dove since the moment i laid eyes on you."

a cute sound escapes from your parted lips, and he felt himself being jostled around when you began to spin while holding your phone. with his eyebrows lifted in response, he calls out your name while telling you, "you don't seem to be as panicked as i imagined."

"are you kidding me? i-" you cough and give him a sheepish expression, "i actually love you so much, and despite the weirdness of this all, i'm strangely happy."

your words succeed in making sylus feel warm inside-

and he knew he had to find a way to be with you soon.

zayne has always been aware of your existence, since you were a longtime player of his game and have spent most of your time together with him.

strangely enough, he took pride in having the highest affinity with you-

yet when you obtained any of the other love interest's memories, or spent some time with them-

a wave of jealousy would course through zayne's veins. he knew that he was programmed to always feel happy with whatever man you chose-

but he couldn't bring himself to let you go. after all, zayne knew that he loved you the most out of all of them.

he was the one who held your health and wellbeing above all else (even ignoring his own desires to see you during his quality time sessions with you.)

while working on his laptop at the cafe, he was aware of how late it was and was hoping that you were already safe and sound in bed-

so imagine his surprise when he sees you logging into the game, greeting him with a tired smile on your face as you opened up the quality time menu with him.

"hey zaynie, i know it's late, but i need to get these assignments done just to stay ahead. i couldn't find the time to do them earlier, so that's why i'm here."

admittedly, zayne could feel a shiver of pleasure each time you spoke to him, allowing him to bask in the sound of your voice-

yet more so than that was how concerned he was that you wanted to do your assignments at such an ungodly hour. as you pressed on the quality time session, zayne would immediately cancel it. confusion was etched onto your features, making you try again-

only to have zayne cancel the session once more.

"what the hell is going on?"

unable to hide the fact that he could respond to you (and not wishing to ignore you any longer) zayne takes a chance and speaks to you.

"it's too late for you to be studying. you should be in bed, ready to sleep."

your eyebrows furrow in response to his words, uncertain if this was part of his script (it wasn't). unable to stop, zayne continues to lightly scold you, "humans need at least 8 hours of sleep, and i know that you've barely gotten 5 hours the past few days."

"oh my god, what?!" he watches as you pick up your phone, meeting his gaze as an incredulous expression was seen on your face. "zaynie, are you talking to me?"

zayne was conflicted now, pulling at the collar of his shirt before clearing his throat, wanting to be honest with you, "yes... i am talking to you, and if you cared for me and my feelings at all, you would go to bed and work on your assignments in the morning, once you're fully rested."

it takes you a moment to take this all in.

from zayne meeting your gaze and scolding you because he was concerned about your health-

it honestly felt like such a dream come true.

your features end up breaking out into a kind smile, and zayne could feel a blush creeping up against his cheek when you nuzzle your face closer to your phone, "okay zaynie, i'll go to sleep."

cradling the phone close to your chest, you let out a hum while slowly getting into bed. once you were settled in bed, you held up your phone to see zayne looking back at you. he smiles at you, "good girl, now close your eyes and sleep."

he watches as you purse your lips before asking him, "will you stay with me, zayne?"

smiling at your request, he gives you a nod, "of course. i'm not going anywhere." he watches you once more as you cuddle into your comforter, closing your eyes while setting your phone close to you.

and as your breathing evens out, (turning softer), zayne whispers your name, filled with longing and love for you alone.

you had to be experiencing the worst cold of your life as you were settled in bed with your phone in hand, playing love and deepspace as you did some missions with xavier, your true love interest for the game.

in the middle of your battle, you let out a particularly loud sneeze, wiping the snot away from your nose while blowing into a tissue when a tiny voice was heard saying "bless you."

after blowing your nose, you said 'thank you' in response-

only to do a double take.

who just said bless you?

you take a quick scan around your room, coughing here and there-

only to realize that there was no one in sight.

you hear the voice again, this time saying your name as you realized that it sounded familiar to you. looking back at your phone, you saw xavier had already taken out the enemy and was looking directly at you.

you swallow thickly, your voice shaky when you began to speak,

"xavier?"

"yes."

"you can hear me?"

"i was able to hear you since day 1, and you chose to stick with me." xavier was practically grinning now, appearing smug while folding his arms across his chest.

by now, you were feeling dizzy as you slowly sit up in bed, feeling almost feverish while looking into xavier's gorgeous, true blue eyes. xavier has been aware of your presence this whole time-

and that fact was enough to make a surge of warmth course through you.

"you... you have always been able to see me?" you ask xavier in a shy voice, earning an earnest nod from him, "yes, and..." he trails off while pressing a hand against your screen, "i'm sorry that i'm unable to take care of you when you're feeling so sick."

"n-no! don't worry about it... i'm just happy that you're here... with me."

a sweet smile paints xavier's expression, coupled along with a gentle chuckle. "i'm happy to be with you, too. and i'm happy that you chose me over them."

realizing what xavier meant, you gave him the best smile you could manage while wiping at your nose with a new tissue, "i will always choose you, xavi."

hearing your admission causes a surge of possessiveness to course through xavier's veins. and while you smiled back at him, the philos prince was thinking of ways to forever keep your smiles for himself.

feeling the need to clean your house and do some chores around it, you decide to spend some quality time with rafayel, the hot lemurian you fell in love with ever since you began playing love and deepspace. with his pretty, pouty face on your screen, you began cleaning, moving around your kitchen and living room while wiping down each surface you could see.

you spent a few hours cleaning, with rafayel seeming to sketch during his quality time session with you, which felt odd. usually, after 30 minutes, the game would notify you, asking if you'd like to continue the session as you confirmed it-

yet now, that didn't seem to happen.

you saw no notification-

and rafayel was still sketching on your screen.

with a shrug, you figured the game probably updated and added this new feature, where you didn't have to constantly renew the 30 minutes during your quality time with rafayel. feeling thirsty now, you pick up your phone and head into the kitchen, setting your phone on the counter as you went into the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

"hey princess! where did you go?! i can't see you!"

you nearly dropped your water bottle in response, hearing rafayel's voice coming from your phone. "come on princess, don't leave me hanging, where are you?"

was this a new script?

closing your fridge, you step closer to your phone, seeing rafayel's pout. picking it up, allowing rafayel to finally see you, he was smiling now while winking at you. "there you are, princess! are you done doing all that work?"

words were unable to form as you were left gaping at him, making the artist chuckle while shaking his head, "you look like a goldfish, which is pretty cute! oh, before i forget!"

rafayel pulls back, revealing his sketchbook to you. your heart was felt clenching slightly before racing upon realizing every sketch was about you-

not your mc in game.

the realization of it all had you reeling, with your hands gripping at your counter when you addressed rafayel. "rafe, you can see me?"

"of course i can, always have been able to, princess." he has the audacity to make your heart flutter the moment he gives you another wink. "and let me just say, i've been loving what i've been seeing so far, princess."

by now, you felt like you were on the verge of collapsing, unable to hide your grin as you cling to your phone all while basking in rafayel's flirty and playful words-

yet little did you know, somewhere along the way, rafayel had genuinely fallen head over heels for you, keeping each painting and sculpture he had made of you hidden so that you would never know-

at least, not yet.

end notes: i'm so happy to write a story like this, where all the lads men truly are so META and wish to be with YOU-

and not the mc (⺣◡⺣)♡

this is currently unedited, but i shall make any changes the moment this story is posted!

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

#sylus fluff #zayne fluff #xavier fluff #rafayel fluff #sylus x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #lads x reader #lnds x reader #l&ds x reader #love and deepspace

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betweenthings2 · 7 months ago

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hello!!!! i hope you are well ohmygod i’ve been meaning to send an ask for a while but my life has been so rudely busy (i’ve had like one task a day to complete💀 and have failed to complete the single daily task for more days than i’d like to admit💀). today i spent all day in bed and did nothing but nap and scroll on my phone and listen to music much to my family’s displeasure. it was meant to be healing but i fear it did the exact opposite. oh well. hopefully i’ll be more productive tomorrow but it’s not looking good right now… it’s way past my bedtime and im drinking green tea which i thought was decaf but i don’t think it is. i very famously cannot handle caffeine so good luck to me with waking up at a decent hour tomorrow. anywayssssss.

loads of crisps. yeah🩷. i live there you don’t understand a picture of a cat is my HOME. so snuggly and cute and real this has gotten me soooo hyped for the next instalment. i don’t know how to describe it but it just felt so true (???) when i was reading it. i feel like we have such a good idea of who your version of matty and george are and every time something happens to one of them im always like “why of course!!!” you paint such a picture i will never stop praising you for it. fun fact about me but i HATEEEE house animals (criminal i know but unfortunately i can’t hide it even if i try). i just can’t deal with the mess of fur and the smell and the scratched floorboards and the yucky food they eat and the greasy residue that gets left on your hands after you pet one. but since turning 21 a few months ago i have this ungodly maternal instinct towards all cats and the rare dog that enchants me. i just want a little cat so badly and then i want a second cat so no one gets lonely. and i want to name them ridiculous names like timmothee chalamet or pistachio or eras tour melbourne night 2 (these are all very real names from my notes app list. im really set on pistachio). all of this to say i really loved a picture of a cat😭😭 sorry for giving you my whole life story. but it’s your own fault the fic was so good it forced me to overshare.

(ok im proofreading and realised i didn’t even say my point about the chapter. what the hell. what i wanted to say was that i loved how it was so domestic and mostly very fluffy but there was just the perfect pinch of melancholy. i really feel like that’s your signature in these shorter forms of writing that are for the most part quite light hearted. your characterisation of fic!matty is just so compelling because you can always tell that he’s trying and working on himself but these little cracks of sadness and doubt peak through. it just makes my brain melt i love it.

also "Mm, when I was thirteen," George agrees, pulling Matty back into his arms, back against his chest. "You're still just as tall as you were when you were seventeen and," George places one hand on Matty's belly and splays his fingers, pressing gently as if to emphasize the way his fingers reach from hipbone to hipbone, "you're little." YOU ARE A GENIUS I LOVED THIS THE MOST!!!!!

one word was also really really good you have been spoiling us soooo much. i’m really enjoying these shorter works in between the masterpiece that is the big light universe. just like loads of crisps it has the perfect amount of ☹️. the maid of honour asking for demanding coke and george’s half hearted confrontation after just squeezed my heart because poor fic!matty☹️ addiction is so hard especially when it’s what people expect of you☹️

i have not been able to read five yet (or before now that i think about it) because i don’t want to make myself too sad but im going to give you and the anon that requested it a little kiss in advanced because i know it’s going it HIT once i read it. it’s such a perfect concept i yelled when i read the summary.

ok last thing maybe but the prompts have been amazing as always!!! i have the biggest soft spot for my fictional babies being called sweetheart it really pulls on the heartstrings so naturally im obsessed with the recent nightmare one🥹. the smut prompts have been insane too i can’t believe you still say you aren’t super confident in writing them. you are crazy.

i know this one wasn’t necessarily new but ive been reading the “what now🤬” prompts a bunch which is probably not a good idea because ouch. just like fic!matty (and let’s be honest irl matty) i too don’t know how to shut the fuck up💀💀💀 its debilitating for everyone but i just loveeeee to talk so they hit a bit close to home hahahahaaha. but they are so good that don’t even care that they slightly hurt my feelings.

i did have one last thing today but im going to save it for talk shop tuesday because i always miss it and it drives me crazy. so this is my promise that you will hear from me again on tuesday🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

🍵

Hello, Matcha Anon!!! 💚💚💚

I am doing well, I spent my weekend looking at apartment buildings in the city I'm moving to in August and I'm so excited about it, but honestly, who gave life a right to be busy?? It's just rude, you're right. Sometimes you need to bed rot, though. I fully support that. Also, Productivity is not everything in life. Sometimes you just need to vibe. If it makes you feel better, though, it's 8:00 pm for me and I'm drinking an energy drink, so you're in good(?) company for late-in-the-day caffeine =)

I'm so glad you liked the first chapter of Loads of Crips--thank you so much!! The next chapter is in the works. I'm not sure when it will be up, but it's one of my open documents right now. I'm thrilled the characterizations feel real or true to you. As I continue to say, I really don't know what I'm doing, so it's really nice to hear that what I'm doing works.

Honestly, I don't blame you for feeling like that about inside pets. I love my inside dog and she has good manners, but I do get kind of tired of dog hair on things at a certain point. I'm just too soft to have firm boundaries because she looks at me with big, sad puppy dog eyes and I go, yeah, you can have whatever you want. I love the idea of a cat, but I'm allergic and I'm not cleaning a litter box. I'm simply not, but I do think Pistachio is a great cat name. I have a barn cat named Mickey. She just kind of showed up one day and now she lives in my barn.

I'm trying really hard to be able to write fluff when I work on shorter things, especially in relation to my bigger and more angsty projects and it doesn't always work out for me, but I am trying. So is fictional!Matty. He's doing his best. It's really interesting that you see something in my writing as a kind of signature. I'm not at all surprised and I'm very touched that you've paid enough attention to what I write to pick something out, so thank you!!

Genius?? Really? I love it, thank you for that, too!! The self-titled/ I like it when you sleep... Matty/George size difference in insane and I can't help but touch on it when I write something in that era, and fictional!Matty (and real Matty, let's be honest) is absolutely the type to remind fictional!George he was taller once upon a time. He doesn't care that it was ten years ago, he was taller once.

I'm thrilled you liked One Word! I wasn't too sure about it, especially when it comes to my timing. I do feel like I need to clarify, I had the idea before any engagements were announced. It wasn't supposed to be quite as angsty as it was--it was supposed to end with smut and be a little bit higher energy, if that makes sense, but fictional!Matty was too busy feeling sorry for himself. Poor fictional!George knew exactly what was going on, he just didn't want to believe it, and poor fictional!Matty was, again, doing his best. He doesn't want to lie to fictional!George, but he's also thinking like an addict and if his own family (not to say that family is everything or that you're bound to the people you're genetically related to forever) writes him off as an addict and nothing more, how can he find the support to ever do better? Not to mention that he's doing exactly what everyone thinks. Poor fictional!Matty. He really doesn't win much in this fic.

And Five.! I actually haven't thought to much about this fic lately, but I will say that it's really kind of very sad, and made more so by its relation to Learning How to Lose a Thing I Never Laid a Hand On. I look forward to hearing what you think of it, if you chose to share, though! I have, however, been thinking about fleshing the series out with some one-shots between the two things that are up right now. There will probably be a poll about that eventually.

I'm also thrilled that you've liked the prompts I've posted recently! I had fictional!George call fictional!Matty 'sweetheart' once and now it's going to be a staple in all my fics. It's such a sweet and soft pet name. I love it so much, especially in smut. My big hang up with smut prompts is that I worry I get redundant, but I'm glad you've liked them! I have a bunch of prompt lists I want to reblog and I'm trying to work through what's in my inbox, so there will probably be more prompts soon =)

I think you're in good(?) company in terms of not being able to shut up, because I will talk forever if someone lets me, too. My poor roommate used to come home and just be accosted by me and all the thoughts I was thinking. I wasn't always like that, but I have many, many ideas that I need to do something with and that's part of why I write. Fictional!M+G get a lot of my traits projected onto them, and this was no exception, even if there was real life inspiration, too.

I look forward to hearing from you on Tuesday!! You did prompt me to schedule the Talk Shop Tuesday post to be reblogged, so thank you for that! I almost forgot this week and we can't have that =)

#asks #betweenthings talks #loads of crisps #one word #matcha anon

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delicrieux · 4 years ago

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☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 24: OH...HI

after months and too much longing, you finally meet corpse in person.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 3.8k

author’s note: we did it joe.

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

You woke up. That’s a lie, you didn’t sleep. Too much to plan, too much can go wrong and you’re...Not nervous, no, that’s not quite accurate. Excited. Yes, excited, so excited that two Redbulls and three coffees (so far!) make you jitter around the apartment like a butterfly that can’t find a flower bed to rest on.

Rae has almost had enough of your...random spurts of energy. So what if you ran a few laps, climbed a few tables, sang karaoke a bit too loud and yet another noise complaint had been issued? It arrived exactly an hour after your concert via your displeased landlord. Rae was, of course, the one to apologize because you were too busy trying on miniskirts. After that ordeal was taken care of, no sooner than Rae shut the front door with an exhausted sigh, you emerged from your room clad in your prettiest outfit. You present it to her with a bright smile and flourish.

She is not impressed.

“Will you quit it?” She questions, arms crossed over her chest. Your grin does not damper -- you’re used to such harsh treatment, having accepted her backhanded way of showing love long ago. Instead, you flick your wrists, showing off an ungodly amount of rings. You’re not certain of the exact number because you can’t count, “Y/n.” Her voice gains an edge, but you persist. Show off your shoes that have cute lil’ charms that jingle jangle not unlike the spurs on a hot cowgirl’s boots, “Y/n.” Her eyes narrow in displeasure, her stern tone making you falter in your dramatic stride down the imaginary catwalk, “Just stop.”

Okay! So maybe you’re not as used to her coldness as you thought you were. Your expression sours, and you quit the act, even if a part of you - one you barely fight off, goodness, you almost perish in that battle - wants to continue but even more annoying. As if you could somehow block her rationality with manic energy.

“What?” You ask, trying to keep the mood lighthearted despite her squared shoulders and tight frown, “I’m just having a bit of fun!” You say with a joyous little laugh, reaching for a glass of much needed water.

“No, you’re panicking.” Her words make the glass still, hoovering by your painted lips, but it’s short lived. You take a greedy gulp and it tastes fresh with a pinch of lipstick, “Look, I get it...” She shakes her head softly, “You’re meeting the guy you like for the first time, you jumped the gun straight to dating and now you’re...Anxious. It’s normal, you know.”

“But I’m not anxious.” You persist, and you really do mean it. You don’t like how she looks at you as if you’re the one that’s misunderstanding your own feelings. You set the glass down with a soft clink, heaving your own sigh, “I’m not, I’m really happy actually.” You explain softly, “It’s just...my way of dealing with it. I’m more... Worried about Corpse, to be honest.” You add, a tad quieter, “But, like, it’s all good!” You exclaim, strolling up to her and landing your hands on her shoulders, “I prepared.”

And it’s true! You had spent the night scouring the depths of the internet. Read every WikiHow article on how to deal with someone with extreme anxiety, how to not make things painfully awkward, and how to talk to boys (just in case. The last time you stumbled upon that particular article was way back in middle school when you had a crush on that one guy you saw in your school’s cafeteria every now and then. Naturally, that led you down the rabbit hole, and according to WikiHow’s How To Tell If A Boy Likes You guidebook, you found out that he was absolutely enamored with you because he glanced in your direction, like, two times. Safe to say that love story went nowhere. The point still stands).

So you forward all of this information to Rae, nestled in her bed whilst she lazily folds her clothes; clarify that you know that nothing much can happen, and that this whole situation is delicate, and that you must tread carefully because you don’t want to overwhelm him. She pauses her actions, glancing behind her to watch you staring idly at the ceiling, so peaceful, so thoughtful. And it’s not the eerie calmness you had displayed during your murderous spree in the last Among Us game, no, it’s just...quiet understanding.

“I’m actually impressed.” She says. You merely hum, counting the dust slowly descending in the cascading light, “You’re not as clueless as I thought.” Your lips quirk into a shy smile at the compliment- “Or as tactless.” - and turn downward just as quick.

“That implies that I’m always tactless.”

“You are.” She states and you sit up, a soft frown pinching your brows, “Not like, in a terrible way. You just...don’t think about your actions. Or the repercussions. You just know that you can get away with everything.”

“And I can!”

“That doesn’t actually mean you should do something just because you can. You know I’ll always support you. Literally everyone will always support you. But I’m not gonna coddle you. You’re just...a lot. Online and especially in person. But the fact that you’re actually taking this seriously and taking his feelings into consideration is...well, the bare minimum, but still, good job.”

...Much to think about. You don’t like thinking, it makes your head hurt. Though, that could just be the lack of sleep. You cross your legs and plop your head in your hand, tired eyes blinking owlishly, “Do you...think I should change what I’m wearing?”

Prompted by your question, she gives you a careful once over, “I mean, it’s signature you.”

“Signature me is a hoodie and some sweatpants.”

She smiles, “Then go change. Your outfit is a bit distracting for just...Hanging out indoors, no? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind either way, though.”

“I just...” You bite the inside of your cheek, mulling your words over. Truly, the last time you were so attentive was when you went Psycho Mode in Among Us, which, to be fair, wasn’t that long ago. Perhaps there wasn’t a chance to let your mind dull - it’s almost as sharp as your butterfly knife, “I figured that if, like,” You vaguely motion with your hands, “if I be, like, all over the place, and wearing something cute, he’d be, like, distracted? And less anxious? No...awkward silence?”

“First meetings are always awkward, it’s natural.” She chimes, “I mean, if you’re so nervous-”

“I’m not nervous!”

“-then just don’t overthink it. I know it’s easier said than done, but you’re you, and Corpse is Corpse, and he likes you for who you are, and even if it is a bit awkward, I’m sure it’ll, like, blow over in a second. It really doesn’t matter how you look, Y/n.” She grins, “Plus, it’s not like you’re greeting him in your underwear or something.”

You will not admit that that was your plan B, not when you just landed in her good graces. You nod, “...I’ll go change.”

And so you do. Pick out your cutest hoodie and some sweatpants. Put away your jingle jangle shoes with a broken heart, instead of them donning your fluffiest socks; slip off some rings because they keep falling off of your fingers. It’s almost like all of those transformation scenes in rom-coms that are still popular for some reason, except you’re hot before and after, so there’s really no transformation at all.

Now you wait. Just wait, all other activities are excluded from this. Rae comes back to find you sitting on the edge of your bed, back straight, hands neatly folded on your lap. She compares you to a Sim’s character and you allow her. After mercilessly mocking you and snapping a few pictures - for blackmail, you assume - she helpfully informs that she is leaving because she doesn’t want to get in the way, but your psychic abilities which you acquired just now tell you that she simply doesn’t want to witness this train wreck. Not that it’ll be a train wreck, it would be if you were nervous, but you aren’t.

You just aren’t. You fidget with the rings adoring your hand; toy with the hem of your hoodie; bounce your leg up and down. It’s just caffeine, okay?! Fuck this, Twitter time.

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[ADDING A MUSICAL INTERMISSION, LISTEN TO THIS IF YOU WANT (I WROTE THIS CHAPTER WITH IT IN MIND)]

The waiting commences, only now it somehow feels more intense. The sun is setting, and you really want to be one of those cute girls that fill their camera roll with pictures of the sunset and the roseate sky, but your hands are trembling and holding up your phone feels like too much of a hassle. You’d rather just sit there, alone in the apartment, in the pin-drop silence, extremely uncomfy and tense, as if waiting for the end of the world.

A notification sounds off and your life flashes before your eyes. Hastily, you check it, a sticky mixture of delight and something else, something unpleasant constricting, making your stomach churn. He’s here. Holy shit, it’s happening. You order your anime plushies to stop fucking panicking, they’re like, totally embarrassing you at the moment! You wonder if they have their own little group chat, but instead of Totally Spies it’s called Total Embarrassment. Yikes, okay, that was harsh. After a good scolding, and a heartfelt apology for getting so heated, you smooth down the non-existent wrinkles on your modest outfit, and quickly waddle over to the electronic apartment thingie something something... you unlock the main door, okay!? This is for some reason feeling very not cash money, so you break out in a little dance number.

The doorbell does not sing that shrill, unpleasant tune; rather, there’s a soft knock on the apartment’s door, and you pause your shuffling, your renegade, and perk up at the imposing future hidden behind a slab of wood. Your heart beats a melody all on it’s own, and it’s loud, uncoordinated, like a musician that’s still familiarizing themselves with their instrument. And there’s that knock again, as uncertain as you’re feeling, and your clammy fingers latch onto the lock and turn it and now there is no more hiding - such a possibility is no longer an option; no more sporadic dances or sitting in disheartening silence and letting your thoughts weight you down.

You’re not quite sure what you were thinking about before you saw him in the threshold, head tilted slightly, fluffy dark hair obscuring the bags under his eyes, hunched, one ringed hand clutching onto the strap of his duffel bag, the other frozen mid-air, ready to knock one more time lest you didn’t hear him the first two. No, truly, you can’t, for the life of you, remember what all the fuss was about.

“...Oh.” It’s a soft sound, so quiet, but not surprised, rather...relieved. Faint shimmers of a smile reach you, hidden behind a black face mask - the panini chic! You must stan a respectful king - but there’s something about the way he looks at you that makes you question it’s sincerity. He fails to return your gaze, rather choosing to stare somewhere over your shoulder. His eyes seem unfocused. Apprehensive. A wild thought occurs to you that he expected you to trick him somehow, and wild thoughts invade the land of your mind often, but never in such a way. You clutch the handle just a bit tighter.

His hand retreats to his side, up to his mask and you think he’s about to unhook it but he stills, and there’s panic there, as if he had been moving unconsciously, as if he hadn’t realized what he’s doing. He plays it off by idly scratching his cheek, muttering an equally quiet, “Hi.” to fill the silence.

Finally, your WikiHow knowledge can come in handy, along with your common sense, “Hey, pretty boy.” You mutter, pulling away from the door, “Make yourself at home!” You slide to the kitchen, your socks acting not unlike ice-skates cutting through the Arctic frost covered ground. You hope that with you occupied and not watching him as closely he’ll feel slightly more at ease.

You’d like to hug him. Kiss him, definitely. But if he’s so uncomfortable that he can’t bring himself to shed his mask in your presence, then there’s really nothing you can do.

You hear the door shut and lock behind you as you pull out two glasses from the cupboard, humming a song you can’t quite recall the name of. You ask him if he’d like something to drink - it was a short flight, yet a flight still, and planes always make you thirsty, and there you go talking his ear off. You end abruptly, but smoothly, like a true diplomat; if he notices, you have no way of knowing - he doesn’t provide even a hint. He’s hard to read, and literature was never your best subject. But you’re trying.

He sets his duffel bag down on a nearby chair, “I, uhhh,” His voice is raspy and low, another indication of a pathetic lack of sleep, “I...got you something, uhh, I dunno-dunno if I should...give it now, or?” He sends you a questioning glance, but it doesn’t linger. Your offer of drinks is momentarily forgotten, though you hardly mind.

You grin, “Sure! I love gifts, gimmie gimmie.” You make grabby hands, and he snorts, and it would’ve sounded endearing if he didn’t sound so fucking tired. He unzips the bag, and you pad your way to him, mindful of personal space (something you, in most social situations, chose to pretend does not exist). You note his hands quivering lightly, just like yours had in the agonizing wait, but he hides it well. You wish you could hold them. You’re afraid to try.

He pulls out a black hoodie and you recognize the custom art on it instantly - it’s his merch. He presents it in awkward flourish, murmuring a “Tadaaaa” under his breath; your heart skips a pleasant beat, and you have to bite down on your lower lip lest you smile appears too big. The fabric is soft under your fingers, and you accept his gift with a dramatic bow, and he turns his head away with another little laugh. You’re chipping away at the ice around him; it’s a slow process, but it’s worth the effort.

Truly, your own hoodie is shabby in comparison - icky, how could you have ever worn such a thing in the first place?! You’ll have to do extensive research in fashion magazines and Printerest so such a slip-up may never happen again. You discard it hastily and put his on instead; it smells like washing detergent with hints of cologne, one you instantly pin point belonging to him, “It’s, uhhh, it’s mine? I hope you, uhh, I didn’t have any spare ones, so-I hope you don’t...mind.”

He’s finally looking at you, but he’s still tense, still hesitant, and you shake your head softly, “No,” You admit, “I like it even more now.” You pull on the hood, toy with the strings and yank them quickly; your face is concealed, save for your nose, “Comfy.” Your commentary is unmatched, best of it’s kind - eloquent and effortless, much like yourself.

Another small laugh reaches your ears, and it sounds a bit livelier than the others had been. Success!

“Stop that.” He says gently, and you see moving shadows; his hands loosen the strings and your face is revealed to him once again. He’s close now, and he doesn’t move away; his hands come to rest on your shoulders, warm even through layers of fabric, “I came all this way to see you, don’t hide your face from me.”

Your eyes narrow playfully, your finger rapidly tapping away on his clothed cheek, “What’s all this then? Hm? Hm?” Instead of swatting your hand away, which you figured he’d do, he complies and finally tugs that fucking mask off. Your breath catches in the back of your throat and you halt your ministrations - truly, seeing him smiling on screen is nothing compared to him smiling in person. You can’t quite contain yourself any longer - your excitement might burst out in another dance number otherwise - as you throw your arms over his shoulders and pull him flush against you. He’s quick to return the embrace. Maybe it was all the encouragement he needed.

“Wow,” He mumbles, only slightly offended, “so I finally show my face to you, in person, and you just-...you just look away?”

“I’m hugging you, dumbass.”

“...Touche.”

Things fall into place after that, like a dozen puzzle pieces fitting together. He won’t let you go - he doesn’t want to. You put on some music, something easy and indie and that doesn’t require too much effort to listen to, as the two of you contemplate what to eat. Cooking by yourselves was dismissed due to the unstable relationship between yourself and cooking utensils. The stove and you had had a falling out recently, but this feud had started long ago, back in pre-school, with only short intervals of friendship. He listened to your extensive explanation absolutely enraptured and only moderately confused.

So you settled on ordering pizza from Domino’s. You have no trouble calling or receiving phone calls, because you have no trouble doing anything, and he admitted that he only really calls you because he gets too anxious to do more, so you’re tasked with ordering the food. You accept this mission with pride.

You stand tall, gazing out the window into the wild California domain: massive buildings and towering eucalyptus trees, bleeding skyline and the sun slowly getting swallowed up by the ocean. Corpse looms behind you, with his arms snaked around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, looking at you through the corner of his eye. You wait patiently for the underpaid, overworked staff member to pick up, and once they do, you have the audacity to grin brightly and chirp, “Hi! I want pizza.”

Conversations flow smoothly, and you make hot chocolate - because you are hot and you crave chocolate - and he insists he wants one too, because you want one, and you don’t hesitate to overflow his cup with whipped cream and an ungodly amount of miniature marshmallows. A premature heart attack, just for him. Whoever said romance is dead has clearly never met you. When the doorbell chimes, you’re astounded that an hour flew by so quickly.

After the delicious meal, the movie night must commence. So what if you watched 10 Things I hate About You yesterday, you insist that you have already forgotten the plot. You lead him to your room and he tries not to stare, but can’t help himself. Pretty boy in a pretty girl’s room. His eyes linger on the massive posters of Chrollo on your walls, and you sense his displeasure rolling off of him in waves.

“What?” You huff, fluffing the pillows, “You don’t like my husband?”

He jabs his finger into his chest, into the spot of his heart, “I’m your husband.”

“Side hoe, then-”

“-No.”

You didn’t lie when you said you love to cuddle, or that you’re clingy. It’s a good thing he’s just as clingy as you are, because when he lays down and you latch onto his side. He doesn’t complain, rather wraps his arm around pulls you close. His thumb draws lazy circles on your side; with your head resting on his chest, you feel each rhythmical rise and drop.

The opening credits play on the projector, the room dark enough for your pile of plushies to look like a whole fucking human just standing in the corner. A ghost! Sucks for it, you’re not scared. You feel safe. Protected. So comfortable in Corpse’s hold that you’re honestly wondering how did you manage to be so long without him. To think all of this started when Sykkuno followed you on Twitter. What a lucky accident.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice cuts through the bopping 90s soundtrack and Julia Stiles’ voice. He hums. You take it as a yes. Tilting your head upwards, you find his eyes again, a thorn of displeasure picking you as you note that that apprehension you had seen previously is still very much there, “...You really wouldn’t date me if I was a worm?”

His chest rumbles with a laugh and his lips split into a grin, “I would.” He presses your side for emphasis, “I really would.” He repeats, reassuringly. You, however, are not convinced.

“But I’d be a worm.”

“I know. We’d... roll around in the dirt together, or something.”

“But you’d be human.”

He frowns softly, “Why couldn’t I be a worm, too?”

“Those are the rules.”

“What kind of shitty fucking rules are those?”

“I dunno, it’s like the Thanos snap or something. I just turn into a worm. I’m the only one.”

“That’s fine.” He smiles, “I’d take you out on a fishing date or something.”

Shocked, offended, and heartbroken, you hit his chest and pointedly turn away with a pout, which he finds very funny for some reason, but you fail to see the humor anywhere except the movie. Despite the fact that he’d sacrifice you for a fish, you smile shyly and close your eyes. He did say you would take a nap together, and if he really thought you’d stay awake for movie night, well, then he’s just an idiot. You had decided you would fall asleep as soon as he was next to you. It’s a miracle you managed to stay awake for so long.

“...Sleeping already?” You don’t appreciate his teasing tone.

“’m not sleeping...” You murmur, “’m resting my eyes.”

“Sure.”

You’re not quite certain (of anything, really) how much time drifts by, but you’re nearly lost in unconsciousness, in the warm, nice feeling that comes along with him like a cloud. Perhaps he thinks you’re asleep, he has to, else he wouldn’t say anything at all, “You’re stuck with me now, you know.” It’s such a soft admission, riddled with the same notes of anxiety that always prevail in his speech; with the same hopeful sincerity he had been gazing at you the whole evening.

Moving your lips is such a hassle, but you manage, “’m...stuck...” You mumble, “’m...stuck...what are you doing step-”

“No!” He laughs, and your lips quirk into a lazy smile, “No, no, no. Just no. Do you talk in your sleep?” You fake snore at that, loudly, “You’re like a little dragon.”

“...Fuck you.”

“Fine, a kitten, then.” That’s better. You feel something chapped, but soft, press onto your forehead, “Goodnight, Y/n.”

God, you’re so fucking happy. Does he know how happy you are? How happy he makes you? But you’re too tired for screaming and flailing around, too tired to even crack an eye open. You want him to know all the same, “...like you.” You whisper, but you don’t know if he hears you over the movie, “...I like you.”

His reply is instant, breathless, “I like you too.”

Good, you want to say, and maybe you do - can’t tell anymore. Sleep takes you too quickly.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max ��

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fanfic #corpse x y/n #corpse social media au #corpse husband social media au #social media au #myso #make you say oh #reader #xreader #imagine #imagines #fluff #wtf i have never been this soft no one hmu

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egcdeath · 4 years ago

Text

ways to say i love you without saying “i love you”

pairing: steve rogers x reader

summary: you and steve explore love languages

word count: 5.1k

warnings: fluff, a little angst because of miscommunications, reader & steve being idiots, good intentions but terrible delivery, mentions of other characters

author’s note: this fic has been sitting unfinished in my drafts for so long. this fic is like, ancient. this fic was almost destroyed because it was briefly in the library of alexandria. when i reopened the document with this fic, there were mold spores growing on it. (p.s. steve’s love langauge is acts of service, and the reader’s is quality time)

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

Prologue

Steve was a multitasker. You knew this well. Perhaps too well.

That never seemed to bother you before, but if the man who was supposed to be taking a serene nature walk with you checked his goddamn flip phone one more time, you were completely sure that you’d lose it.

You paused your story about your obnoxious coworkers for a moment, stopping in the middle of the gravelly trail you two were making your way down.

“Steve, seriously, are you even listening?” you griped, ushering him towards the side of the pavement as a man on a bike flew by.

He guffawed a bit at this, “of course I am. You just said something about…” he paused, and you gestured with your hands for him to continue. “Okay, sorry,” the blush on his face was becoming more and more apparent.

You involuntarily scoffed, rolling your eyes as you did so, “I’m glad to know that whatever you’re waiting for on there,” you gestured to his pocket, “is more important than spending quality time with your girlfriend, who, must I remind you, took time off to be here with you.”

“Nothing is more important to me than you, I’m just on call. I’m probably going to get called to go on a mission any moment now.”

“Steve!” you huffed, “you literally just got back, like, two hours ago. Can’t someone else go? Tony? Vision? Anyone?”

“I might’ve volunteered myself-“

“You’re unbelievable, Steve. Are you getting tired of me or something? You’ve been avoiding me like the plague ever since I moved in with you. If I upset you, or you’re gonna propose to me or something, can you just tell me?”

“I promise you it’s not personal at all,” he reached for your hand and gently held it. “Everything’s just been crazy. I mean, these Hydra bases have been popping up left and right. Just give me a little grace, okay? I don’t get upset with you when SHIELD starts making you work those ungodly hours.”

You opened your mouth to debate him, but surely enough, the canny and familiar ringtone of Steve’s work phone interrupted you before you could even begin.

“Okay… Yeah. I’ll be there in thirty.”

You frowned at Steve as he spoke on the phone and shook your head disapprovingly, “unbelievable,” you muttered, storming in the direction of your home.

——

Steve was no fool, he knew when he messed up, and he was more than willing to take responsibility for such. Now was one of those times. He knew that he should’ve been making more time for you. He was well aware that he shouldn’t have gotten defensive when you pointed this out.

He just had no idea how to apologize.

You weren’t exactly making it easy for him either, taking much longer hours in an attempt to avoid him. While he could understand your frustrations, it became a little more difficult everyday for him to properly apologize to you in a way he felt was meaningful.

Eventually figuring to use your avoidance as a tool, Steve devised a plot to make an apology for you so considerate, so superb, that you could never be angry with him again. A plot that included a several course meal, all concocted by himself.

He could imagine the look on your face as you came home from work, shocked, but the good kind of shock. Pleasantly surprised that your sweet boyfriend had put in such a huge amount of effort to say sorry.

He couldn’t help but imagine the scenario: you would relax into your seat at the table after Steve pulled out the chair for you, hum in content as he poured your favorite wine. Moan happily at the taste of a homemade and rarely prepared salad dressing, before complimenting the melt-in-your-mouth entree he had spent an unknown amount of time laboring over. Finally, you’d gush over the dessert that Steve hadn’t had the chance to cook in years, tell him that he worked far too hard putting everything together, especially for a little argument. Steve would scoff, tell you you’re being too kind, and you would pull him in for a red wine and dark chocolate flavored kiss.

The thought of you, your genuine and warm smile after a long day at work, and an even longer week worth of unspoken tension between you both, was enough to keep Steve motivated through the hours he spent preparing your meal.

He greeted you at the door like an excited puppy as soon as he heard your keys jingle. Sure, work had kept you a bit longer than he’d expected, and your food was likely a little cool by now, but he was excited to make amends.

However, you did not seem to share the same enthusiasm as Steve.

“Welcome home, gorgeous. Come sit,” Steve nudged you into the dining area, and you sluggishly followed, exhausted from a tiring day of training new agents.

“What’s wrong?” he inquired, pulling out a chair that you didn’t even attempt to sit down on.

“I had a really long day. I kinda just wanna get to bed,” you shrugged before rubbing your creased temple.

Steve internally cringed at the thought of all of his hard work going to waste. For some reason, he’d not envisioned this less pleasant outcome before. “Sweetheart,” he began in a nearly whiny tone, but you weren’t in much of a mood to be persuaded.

“I’m sorry. Weird things were happening at work that I don’t care to get into now, and honestly, I’m not even that hungry,” you reached out and gave Steve’s hand a little squeeze. “But it all looks and smells so good! I Promise I’ll warm some up tomorrow for lunch.”

“I-,” he paused, “please. Maybe you could just take a few bites of everything. It took me a really long time to get everything prepped and ready.”

You frowned at the plea, feeling a bit guilty but almost… satisfied at the same time. Steve struggled to make time for you because of his work, and now he was getting a little taste of his own medicine.

“I really am sorry. But hey, now we’re even?” you offered with a playful wink, slipping away before you gave your partner a chance to respond. You truly didn’t have the energy for a four course meal that night, let alone another argument.

——

Wanda was silent for a moment as she sipped from a mug of coffee, watching you with a suspiciously focused look on her face.

“Wanda?” you prompted, seemingly snapping her out of whatever trance she had found herself in.

“Oh my God, I know exactly what you guys need,” she just about blurted, reaching across the café table to grab your hand.

“Were you reading my mind?”

Your friend didn’t respond, but the devious smirk on her face was enough of an answer.

“What happened to telling me before reading me?”

“You just looked like there was a lot on your mind. And absolutely no way that you’d tell me,” she shrugged nonchalantly.

“Of course I was gonna tell you! Why else would I ask my friend in a cute relationship to meet me for coffee?”

“Because you like me?”

“No, never that. I just needed advice,” the two of you shared a laugh for a moment.

“Well don’t waste your breath. When Vis and I had a rough patch, we just had to learn each other’s love languages. You’d be surprised just how much that synthezoid values those acts of services.”

“And you?”

“I’m a words of affirmation girl myself,” she shrugged. “You should find out yours, and try to figure out Steve’s. I guarantee it’ll be helpful in the long run. I can send you guys a test, if you want?”

“Oh god no, please don’t tell him that I told you about us. Actually, I didn’t even tell you! You were digging around in my brain, and I don’t appreciate that. Just do me a favor, and don’t share this with anyone, okay?” You paused dramatically, then leaned in to speak to your friend in a whisper, “but send me that test when you get the chance.”

Gift Giving

“A little reality-warping birdie told me you’ve been having some relationship problems,” Tony said teasingly once Bruce left the conference room, leaving him and Steve alone.

Steve paused for a moment, trying to decide whether he should lie or fess up to the allegation. “How did she know?” Steve finally responded, standing up and pushing the chair he was sitting on behind him.

Tony shrugged dismissively, “I don’t ask these kinds of things. I just hear in passing that the geriatric is having a hard time and tune in.”

Steve shook his head slightly, rolling his eyes to mask his clear embarrassment.

“Well, is it true?”

“We’ve just been having the occasional… rift. A little more than occasionally.”

Tony nodded, fake pondering the situation, “well, I always know what I do for Pep, at least after I tell her I’m getting rid of the suit. Go buy her something nice. Really nice, like jewelry, or a purse if she’s into that kind of thing. I would say a car, but I know that Social Security check isn’t getting you too far. You know what? Put it on the company card. My treat.”

Steve wanted to scoff, turn his nose up at the offer like it was a terrible idea, but it really wasn’t. Maybe a material surprise was the way to win you back. He made a soft ‘hmph,’ noise as he mulled it over. “That’s definitely not your worst idea. Thanks,” he gave his teammate a soft smile before collecting himself and heading out of the conference room.

His first stop after work was some local jeweler. Steve threw on a (not very) inconspicuous outfit before entering the building, where he browsed for a good hour, searching for something that he believed you’d like. After looking at more jewelry than he had ever cared to see in his life, he decided on a necklace with a thin golden chain with a decent sized diamond hanging off of it. It was a little pricier, and you’d be able to tell— but he hoped it would help the gift mean more to you.

——

When you arrived home late that night, Steve was sitting in the living room waiting for you. It was almost daunting, the sight of him sitting alone on the couch mostly in the dark, only the television illuminating his face. He kind of reminded you of a parent waiting to confront their child who just snuck out, or a concerned friend seconds away from staging an intervention with you.

Walking past the room, you peeked your head through the doorway, and observed the flat, small box in front of him on the coffee table.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he greeted, standing up so he could greet you with a hug and grabbing the little box as he did so.

“Is everything okay?” you probed, speaking into Steve’s shoulder.

“Of course. I just wanted you to know how much I love you, and that I’m sorry for not having as much time for you as I should,” he pulled away before holding the box out for you.

You hesitantly took the box and opened it, letting out a gasp when you viewed the delicate looking gold necklace.

You were having mixed emotions, because it was clearly beautiful and you were grateful to the gesture. But you knew that this must’ve been expensive, and that it was so unlike Steve to have done something like this. Your frugal, Great Depression era guy wasn’t exactly the most material.

“I love it,” you gushed, admiring the jewelry.

“Can I put it on you?” Steve asked, and received a nod in return.

Steve set the box down on the table and lifted up the necklace, bringing it up to your neck and focusing on clasping it in the back.

“Babe, how much was this?” you blurted, not even being able to filter the words before they left your mouth.

“Hmm? That doesn’t matter,” he dismissed, then stepped away from you to admire your clavicle.

“It just feels weird letting you spend so much on me.”

“It’s a gift, though. You’re not supposed to think about those things,” he hummed, pressing a chaste peck to your nose.

“Steve, I got you a Nespresso for Christmas and you wouldn’t stop complaining about how expensive it was. I love it, I really do. It’s beautiful and I’ll always think of you when I wear it. I just think that maybe we should have the same standards for each other,” you stood up from your seat and sidestepped him. “I need a shower.”

Steve watched you walk off, letting your words simmer in his thoughts.

That was the last time he would take relationship advice from Tony.

Words of Affirmation

This conclusion probably shouldn’t have taken you this long, but you were almost completely sure that this would be the love language to win Steve back over. You felt bad for some of the occurrences between the two of you lately, with sour exchanges and sweet moments that turned bitter on a whim.

In all honesty, you were concerned that Steve doubted your love for him. And if his love language really was words of affirmation, this would certainly convince him otherwise.

You sat at your desk the night before Steve departed for a two-week mission, trying to write a nice message for him. You tapped your pen on the stock paper in deep thought as you tried to figure out the best thing to say.

I’m sorry for arguing so much with you lately. You and everything that you do mean the world to me, even when you get on my nerves. I love you more than anything and that will never change.

The words looked cramped and unkempt on the little note. Your handwriting got messier as you went. You groaned at it, crumpled the paper, and tossed it in your trash bin. Time to start over again.

I’m sorry for arguing with you. I love you a lot. Can you stop picking up your phone when we’re spending time together?

You groaned at the passive aggressive tone of your message. That certainly wasn’t going to get you anywhere. Straight to the bin it goes.

I love you so much so don’t die on your mission or I’ll be pretty upset. Be safe out there xx.

The tone was even more off now. You needed to think of something that would really make Steve remember you while he was gone. For a second, you considered snapping a nude with a polaroid and attaching it to the letter.

I’m sorry that things have been so bad nasty for us lately. I promise that I love you, despite our ups and downs. Nothing will ever change that. I’ll miss you more than you know while you’re gone. Make sure you call me every day, my love.

A little cheesy, but you signed off with your name regardless, and contentedly looked at your work. The spacing looked correct, the tone wasn’t harsh, and you knew for a fact that Steve would appreciate it.

You stayed up a little later than normal, waiting for Steve to get home and change out of his ‘work clothes’ so that you could slip the note into his utility belt.

You folded the note to a small little square and set it beside an granola bar in a pocket you’d assumed he frequently used. Content with your work, you laid back in bed until your partner slipped in bed beside you, and sleepily cuddled into you until you were both unconscious.

—

Around two weeks had passed since Steve had seen you last, and he had decided to stop by the office and finish up paperwork before coming to see you. It had been radio silence on his end, despite the note in his clothing that clearly requested daily contact. Part of you wondered if Steve had seen it at all.

Steve had just finished signing the documents when he finally noticed it, reaching into a sparsely used part of his belt to have a quick snack. His hand landed on a folded piece of paper, and he cringed as he unfolded it, the letter becoming clearer and clearer as he did so. He wondered just how long the message had been waiting for him.

He read your sweet words with a frown on his face, the guilt from not opening it sooner overriding the sweet feelings that he would otherwise have. He grabbed his phone and considered texting you, but abandoned that thought altogether.

“FRIDAY, any idea where Y/N is right now?”

“I was told not to share any information about Ms. L/N, Captain Rogers.”

“Whose orders?” Steve pressed.

“Hers,” the bot quipped back.

Steve groaned aloud. He was really in for it tonight.

Physical Touch

“Have you tried touching her more?” Thor casually queried. The water that Steve had just consumed nearly flew out of his nose, and his cheeks reddened instantly.

“Pardon?” he asked, looking away from his friend instantly.

“I understand that you and Y/N have been having troubles lately. Perhaps she does not feel held by you. Maybe she wants you to show her off in public, to hold her hand, hug her,” he suggested.

Could Steve even be blamed for going there? He was having a chat with a god of fertility. Who wouldn’t think the same?

“Stark’s gala tonight. Show the world that she’s yours, and I guarantee that she’ll love every moment of it.”

——

You were confused. Really confused.

The night began with some simple touches, hand holding as you entered the building, a casual arm around your waist as you chatted with donors and politicians you hadn’t seen in months, a playful match of footsie under the table while waiting for food. But it came to a head when Steve had decided to rest his hand on your ass and grope you in the midst of a conversation.

Now, in any other situation, you would welcome this affection. But both you and Steve had never been a fan of PDA, and this was a bit too far.

As subtle as you could manage, you pushed his hand away, offering him a sour look as you did so.

“Excuse us,” you told some rich old man in an artificially sweet tone before ushering Steve off to his office for a bit more privacy.

“What was that about?” you questioned, sitting down in the padded chair behind Steve’s desk, and running your fingers over your necklace in a bit of a nervous tick.

“What do you mean?” he retorted, standing across from you at the desk and setting his hands on top of the clear table.

“Why were you groping me in front of people? That’s really... unlike you. And it made me uncomfortable.”

Steve frowned genuinely, looking down at the table in embarrassment. “I’m really sorry. For making you uncomfortable. It sounds ridiculous but I was just trying something new.”

“Apology accepted, but are you sure? You weren’t like, jealous of those guys or something? You know you’re the only hundred year old I have eyes for,” you set your hands atop of his and squeezed.

Steve chuckled at this, the flush of his cheeks only highlighted more by the laughter, “it’s just that, uh, Thor told me I should try showing you off more. Or something like that.”

“So you groped me in front of our guests? That’s silly. And a little unprofessional,” you glanced over at the cork board on his desk sitting next to his desktop, and amongst the neatly arranged scratched out to-do lists and random reminders, you couldn’t help but notice the creased paper of the note you’d left for his mission. Your chest warmed when your eyes fell upon it.

“When did you find this thing?” you asked, pointing to the note.

“I meant to say something, but when I found it, FRIDAY said you didn’t want to talk to me. SO I was going to bring it up when I got home, but you were still working. After that, I kinda… you know-”

“Forgot?” you finished with a hearty laugh, “It’s fine. You’re such a dork. C’mere so I can get my own groping in,” you chided, grinning to yourself when Steve wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace.

Acts of Service

Steve was quietly folding your laundry in your bedroom when it finally occurred to you, but when it did, it hit like a ton of bricks.

Steve’s love language was acts of service!

Things suddenly began to make sense to you, the way that he initially attempted to apologize by spending hours cooking one meal, how he consistently worked to make your life as comfortable as possible, and his great insistence to do house chores, despite you being more than capable.

Steve set down a stack of folded sweatshirts by your calf, snapping you away from your brief retrospective daze. If that really was the case, and Steve’s love language truly was acts of kindness, you had to come up with some sort of plan to communicate to him just how much you cared about him in a way that he really appreciated.

Luckily for you, you were a quick thinker. Before you even knew it, a week filled with random acts of kindness before he was off on yet another mission was quickly hatched.

——

You were up at the ass-crack of dawn. Really. Steve liked to get up earlier than the sun in order to run, or train, or whatever the hell it was that superheroes did. You were seriously regretting your decision to wake up around the same time as him in order to do some favors for him in the morning.

By the time Steve was back from his run, his favorite coffee was brewed and cooling, and you were in the laundry room at the dryer, preparing to give Steve a warm towel after his shower.

Despite the three mugs of coffee you’d just downed, it was becoming more and more difficult to keep your eyes open. It didn’t help that your eyelids felt like they weighed fifty pounds each, and the warmth of the dryer next to you was providing you with just enough comfort to drift off.

And drift you did. In fact, half an hour later, you’d missed the frantic calling out for you from your boyfriend as he searched for you around the apartment.

You finally awoke when he shook your shoulders, his amused voice bringing you back to consciousness.

“What’s going on here?” Steve grinned, pushing some hair out of your face.

“Mmm,” you began, “Iwantedtogetawarmtowel,” you slurred sleepily and incoherently.

“Even with super hearing I couldn’t decipher that. Let’s get you a mattress, okay?” Steve hoisted you up like you were nothing, and carried your half asleep body all the way up to your bedroom.

The next thing you knew, you were buried under your favorite comforter and propped against a mountain of feathery pillows. A gentle forehead kiss and an incomprehensible sentence about calling off of work for you later, you were back in a deep sleep.

So much for warm towels.

—

You were going to do better this time. That’s what you told yourself as you strolled through the grocery store, the same store that you hadn’t shopped in since moving in with Steve, as he preferred to do the shopping himself.

Equipped with a short paper list and sheer determination to make the trip as short and accurate as possible, you gathered all of the groceries that you believed were necessary— just enough to restock the fridge, and fill some gaps left in the cupboard.

Your time at the store was indeed brief, as you found yourself in the checkout lane after just twenty minutes (you definitely weren’t going to brag about that to Steve later. Definitely not), and back home with just enough time to unload the groceries, and further prep yourself to go to work.

You’d honestly forgotten about your trip to the store by the time that you arrived home, up until you found your boyfriend arm deep in your pantry, hellbent on finding… something.

“Can I help you?” you poked with a laugh, coming up beside Steve and peeking over his shoulder.

“I’m just… Did you happen to grab any protein bars while you were at the store?” he asked, pausing his search to look back at you.

“I don’t think so. Why? It’s not like you need any more protein,” you teased, squeezing a bicep to demonstrate your words.

“They’re pretty convenient when I’m out in the field. Don’t worry about it, though. I’ll just swing by the store and grab some before my mission tomorrow. Actually, I should probably go now. Y’know, before I forget,” Steve was already grabbing his car keys from the counter by the time his sentence was finished, leaving you to fight off your disappointment at your minor grocery store failure.

You looked at what you now knew was an insufficiently filled pantry and pinched the bridge of your nose. You had seriously underestimated the ins and outs of shopping for a super soldier.

Well, third time’s the charm?

—

After this week, you would never complain about waking up early again. You were now up at an absolutely ungodly hour, scrambling eggs, flipping pancakes, and spreading jam on toast for a sleeping, unsuspecting Steve.

You placed the plate on a sturdy wooden tray, poured orange juice and an extra glass of water, and set a nicely folded napkin, along with utensils, next to the items.

You hoped that the scent of bacon wafting up to your bedroom would eventually pull him out of his slumber, and seeing how bacon was the only thing left to finish cooking, you took a little break.

A round of Candy Crush turned into two, then three, and goddamnit, why can’t you beat this fourth level! You got so wrapped up in your mobile game that you didn’t even notice when the scent from your kitchen became slightly rancid, and when you rushed over to the oven to check on your now extremely burnt bacon, the smoke detector wailed.

You grabbed a kitchen towel and waved your arms like a madwoman near the smoke detector, the shrieking eventually stopping, but not before Steve was halfway down the stairs.

“Y/N, where are you? Is everything okay?” he nearly shouted, racing down the stairs and barreling through the smoky kitchen to find you. When he reached you, he wrapped his arms around your waist and began to pull you out of the kitchen.

“Steve, relax. Everything is okay. Except those pieces of bacon,” you rubbed your now sweaty palms on your pajama pants before breaking away from him to crack open the kitchen window.

“Christ, what happened? And why are you up so early?”

“I was trying to make you breakfast in bed,” you admitted, rather embarrassed by the dramatic scene you’d accidentally created. “Sorry,” you muttered.

Steve wrapped his arms around you once more, this time in a reassuring bear hug that left your cheeks pressed to his chest. “Don’t be. I really appreciate this, and everything else you’ve done this week. It’s the thought that counts, right?”

“I guess,” you mumbled into his shirt.

“Besides, everything else looks delicious. And you tried your best for me while trying something new. I think that’s really sweet of you.”

“Really?” you pried, looking up at him.

“Really,” Steve confirmed.

“Well, I think it would be really sweet of you if you went back to bed and got all cozy so I can take care of you.”

Steve chuckled softly, pressed a little kiss to your nose, then nodded, “yes ma’am.”

Quality Time

Steve had been in a bubbly mood since getting back from his mission, and for no particular reason. It wasn’t like you weren’t happy that your partner was happy, but feeling like you were out of the loop was slightly concerning.

Before you could let your thoughts run too wild, you decided to pop the question during one of your evening walks.

“Okay Steve, what is going on with you?” you asked, veering to the side of the trail when a biker rode past you.

“Nothing big. Nothing too important. I’m just out of service for the next three months,” Steve said casually, playing it cool.

“What?!” you paused, your brows raising and eyes widening in surprise as you searched his face for sincerity. “You’re serious?”

“Serious as a heart attack.”

“Steve!” you gasped happily, nearly roaring out his name in excitement. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I was going to tell you before wining and dining you, but you beat me to it. So…?”

“…So I’m happy to have you back. I may need you to negotiate some time away from work for me in the next few months, then. I don’t wanna miss this preview of stay-at-home-dad-Steve.”

“Hey, don’t push it.”

“Oh, I’m planning on pushing it.”

Epilogue

The sun was beating down on you, but the soothing breeze that flowed past your checked blanket every so often provided a pleasant antidote to the summer heat.

You’d truly picked the best day for a picnic.

Despite spending a good amount of time with your partner, the last month and a half had truly felt like a whirlwind. You casually started looking for a forever home, found yourselves making plans for an early retirement, and you had a new, sneaking suspicion that a proposal was on the horizon.

In the midst of it all, Steve had suggested that the two of you take a midday tryst at your local park and throw yourselves a little picnic. Of course you obliged, because when your greek god of a boyfriend suggests going on a spur of the moment date, you agree.

You now watched the nearly cloudless sky with pure, unadulterated feelings of content and joy while Steve set a slice of cheese on a cracker, leaning over your body to feed you. As you opened your mouth, Steve paused abruptly at the soft vibration coming from his pocket.

Steve resumed as if nothing had changed, popping the cracker into your open mouth and letting his phone continue to ring.

“Don’t you wanna get that?” you questioned.

“It can wait,” Steve stated nonchalantly, slipping his phone out of his pocket and pressing decline with absolutely no hesitation before tossing the device to the edge of your blanket.

You didn’t realize how long you’d been waiting to hear those three words.

-------

a/n: this could’ve been solved in like 20 minutes by sitting down and taking a love language quiz together

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you

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starrynite7114 · 4 years ago

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Years Together (Sergio Ramos)

A/N: Here I am, back with my first football little one-shot, or multiple parts since this is based on a TikTok. Anyway, I wanted to do it on bae, Sergio Ramos. I love this man, I would sacrifice a whole lot of things for this man. I know I usually write Mayans, specifically Angel, but I wanted to branch out. Be on the lookout for Rio, Billy Russo and Bucky Barnes. Maybe even Lewis Tan, Sebastian Stan are on the horizon. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy what I write still. If you don’t read, totally understandable, I still love you all!

I will try to finish all my works in progress along with the requests I have! EZ should be next since I’m almost done with his, I just have to actually finish it.

Love you all!

Word Count: 1206

CREDITS TO THE GIF MAKER <3

You sat beside Sergio as he watched the next Marvel film in the series of chronological order for the Marvel Cinematic Universe. So far, you two were at Iron Man II. Sergio has been either working out or watching film during the quarantine. La Liga was set to reconvene in two weeks and you were honestly excited. Though you couldn’t go to the matches, at least Sergio and the boys would be gracing your screens again.

You and Sergio have been together for nine years and in those ten years, you two have had two sons together, Sergio Jr. and Thiago. You two were set to get married this year, but with the pandemic happening, you thought it would be best to postpone the wedding till all your friends and family could safely participate.

With the pandemic happening, your work has been moved to a home setting. You actually didn’t mind holding meetings and working at home, it made things so much easier for you. You could take care of the boys, with Sergio’s help and also be able to stay safe. Sergio was holding Thiago, your three year old, while Junior, your five year old was nestled right beside you.

“Should we order dinner? Or are we cooking?” You questioned him.

“Pizza?” Sergio has been indulging due to the pandemic and it wasn’t like the calories were staying on him. Sergio worked out far too much for the calories to really make a dent to his ungodly body.

You ordered pizza through an app, letting Sergio pick the toppings. You all got your own personalized pizza that was the perfect size for one person. You also got some cheesy bread since your sons were a sucker for cheese and so were you.

You scrolled through TikTok as the movie began. TikTok has become an obsession you couldn’t drop. It was ridiculous, but the endless hours you spent on this app was dangerous. You even made an account. You’ve posted a few TikTok’s of you messing with Sergio, but nothing too insane as of yet. You did want to try one with Sergio, to see how he would react to this specific TikTok. There was a TikTok going around where the person gets the number of years together wrong and their partner reacts. There were a varying amount of reactions and you wanted to see what Sergio would say.

Setting up your phone to record him, you focused the camera on Sergio, who was enjoying some juice you made earlier in the day.

“Babe,” you called out.

“Hmm,” his eyes remained on the screen.

“You know what I find insane? My sister just texted me and told me that we’ve been together for seven years. That’s a long time huh?” You had to hold back your laughter. You didn’t think Sergio was paying attention since he’s been occupied by the Marvel Cinematic Universe since he finished his morning workout.

Sergio paused the movie and looked back at you. “Seven years? Who have you been dating for seven years?” He gave you an incredulous look. “We’ve been together for ten years, five months, three weeks, 5 days, and six hours.”

The details he uttered made you speechless. You knew how long you two were together by at least years and months, but he knew the weeks, days and hours?

“What?” You looked at him in disbelief. “You know all of that?”

“Yes, of course I do. I still don’t think you understand how long I waited for you to agree to go on a date with me.” Sergio shook his head. “Now, who the hell have you been dating for seven years. I can text our sister right now.”

You’ve known Sergio since childhood through your sister. He wasn’t much older than you, just by a few years. Your sister was never fond of the idea of you dating Sergio, so you kept him at arm's length, but after the 2010 World Cup, you changed your mind and said screw it. You went on one date with Sergio and the rest was history. You two were on and off, but Sergio never let too much time pass till he waved the white flag. He had a temper and you liked to push him. You two were volatile, but somehow, you two made it work. He loves fiercely and so do you. Sergio always knew you were the one, he always said it was the way you would ignore him that got him.

But you weren’t ignoring him, you just didn’t like him.

And the dislike eventually grew to fondness to friendship and then to love.

“Babe, it's a prank.” You stopped recording, saving the video as a draft and showing him where you got the idea from.

Sergio looked at you and shook his head. “You’re such damn trouble.” He chuckled, playing the movie once again. “I’m gonna have to start watching some videos, just so we can be at an even playing field.”

“Do you know the seconds too?”

“That’s pushing it.”

You had to laugh at that. “That’s pushing it?”

Sergio turned to you and kissed you. Junior let out a giggle along with your youngest son Thiago. “Babe, you’re the longest commitment I’ve had besides being in the Madrid team. So yes, I value and keep track of how long we’ve been together, pretty soon, I’ll be counting marriage years.”

“You know, we should just get married at a courthouse. All we need is your mom, my mom and there we go. Hell, we can even do it virtually.”

Sergio paused the movie again. “I want you to have your dream wedding.”

“I don’t have one, I just want to be married to you.”

Sergio chuckled and shook his head. “You know that’s what I want to, but I want us to be able to celebrate with our family and friends. To really enjoy the fact that we’ve annoyed them with our PDA for ten years.”

You laughed. “You’re such a dork.” You pushed his head. “Okay, we can wait. As long as I become Mrs. Ramos at the end.”

“Baby, there’s no way you won’t be Mrs. Ramos at the end. I told you three years in, it’s you and me.” Sergio squeezed your thigh. “Te queiro mi amor.” He kissed you again.

And it was true, Sergio had told you he was going to marry you some day on your third year anniversary. You brushed it off and said we’ll see next year. And each year after that, Sergio upped his game. Finally, on your eight year anniversary he proposed. It’s not like he didn’t want to do it earlier, but he knew for some reason you weren’t ready. A relationship was one thing but an engagement was another.

“Love you too.” You had your hand at the back of his neck, scratching it, a gesture Sergio absolutely adored.

You two watched the movie, mostly Sergio whole you browsed around TikTok. You started saving videos to do with Sergio. Another one you wanted to do was the ‘what three things would you take with you if we got divorced’?

But you would save that for next time.

Let the TikTok videos begin.

#Sergio Ramos #Sergioramos #sergio ramos imagines #sergio ramos fanfiction #sergio ramos imagine #sergio ramos fanfic #real madrid imagines #real madrid imagine #sergio ramos x reader

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jaeminzie · 4 years ago

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ignorance is bliss | h.rj

↳ huang renjun x gender neutral!reader

synopsis: staying true to the courageous gryffindor persona, you secretly admire renjun using unusual tactics, forgetting that the fellow ravenclaw is fairly quick witted.

genre: fluff

word count: 2,339

part of ‘the dreamies in hogwarts’ series

huang renjun, the ravenclaw wallflower who you’ve been stalking according to your best friends. indeed, it is odd to stay in the library until ungodly hours solely for the breathtaking view from a few tables in front of the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen. though every view and every angle of huang renjun is breathtaking, it doesn’t take much work when you look like that. being as stubborn as ever, you would never admit to stalking the poor boy. you believed that that was an exaggeration, that your friends don’t understand how it feels to be so blinded by him and you are utterly confused on how they aren’t blinded by him. instead, you claim it as a way to get an understanding of the boy’s, who you do plan to interact with sometime in the future, mannerism — which you mentally admit sounds just as creepy as stalking, not helping your case at all.

so there you are, sitting alone in a table a bit further than usual from renjun using a book to cover your lower face to avoid any suspicion. not only are you stubborn, you are also unbelievably oblivious. so oblivious, in fact, that you aren’t aware that the boy who you’ve been “observing” has already noticed you staring at him the second week of your trips to the library. in your defense, you visit the library no more than four times a week as you loathed the smell of rotting book paper and dusty wooden furniture. unknowing of the boy’s acknowledgment of you, you continued to admire from a far. loving the way his plump lips pouted naturally while reading, his circular silver glasses sat perfectly on the bridge of his god-shaped nose, how careful his eyes scanned through the pages and the way his fingers absentmindedly tapped on the table as a way to keep himself sane from the amount of studying he chooses to do willingly which appalled you. but once in a while, he’d give himself a break by sketching on his notebook causing all the lines on his forehead and the pout on his lips to disappear. this is your favorite part. seeing him find his peace in drawing made you feel the same sense of warmth and tranquility that you suppose he feels when creating art, completely unaware of a gryffindor staring him down — or so you thought. ignorance really is bliss, or else, you wouldn’t be so shameless right now.

renjun means to speak to you one day as his confusion progresses each time he sees you walk through the ginormous library doors and choose a spot where you both have clear views of one another. when you look away, pretending to read the book in your hands, renjun looks your way with furrowed eyebrows trying to figure out what exactly do you want from him. why you still manage to fail your classes despite spending many hours “studying.” yes, you can say that he observes you as well since your houses share a couple classes with each other. from his observations, he’s learned that you’re quite the helper. renjun wonders how you weren’t sorted in hufflepuff. perhaps, a hufflepuff isn’t bold enough to stare at a stranger in a nearly empty library for many consecutive weeks. though, a gryffindor should have the courage to at least speak a single word to that person, a simple ‘hello’ would be a nice place to start.

it took him some time to admit it, but he found pleasure in staring at you as well. his slytherin friends practically had to force it out of him once they kept noticing that his gaze was almost always set on you since his group sat in the back of your classes, it was easy to admire without being caught unlike your questionable tactics. renjun admires how you keep trying and trying to answer a question correctly even when your raised hand is being blatantly ignored by the professor after getting a handful of questions incorrect. and don’t even get him started when he catches a glimpse of you laughing with your peers, then he can’t keep his eyes of off you. there’s been countless nights of him unintentionally going on about you and your character to his peers relaxing in their ravenclaw common room. at this point, the whole house of ravenclaw has heard your name come out of his mouth at least once.

from your clear view, you notice how focused renjun is with his hands seeming to move themselves while his mind continued to run on you. renjun straightened his back after finishing the last few strokes on his sketch. a sketch of you sitting on top of a table identical to the one you seated at right now with your legs swinging and your red robe nearly hitting the floor, eyes crinkled as your smile that he loves to look at reached up to your ears. his first drawing of you, he was proud of it and was sure it wouldn’t be the last drawing of you he’ll make.

you were taken back when you had noticed renjun was already gathering his belongings. he usually goes back to reading after finishing a drawing, you recalled back to the mental schedule you created in your mind. wow you really are a creep. you thought. too caught up with being offended by your inner self insulting your actions, you were completely unaware of the boy dressed in blue standing next to you.

renjun gaped as he thought you were ignoring him. having enough, he finally spoke, “can i help you?”

freezing in your seat when you heard his smooth voice laced with confusion, refusing to face the boy since you are definitely not prepared for this moment. fixing your posture and clearing your throat, you mustered your left over confidence as you chose to not further embarrass yourself in front huang renjun.

completely changing your body language to a more laid back manner and facing the boy, trying not to evidently show your breath being taken away from seeing him up close. his left eyebrow raised with his lips pursed slightly, fingers fiddling with the books by his side. he looked even better close in front of you, you had previously thought that was impossible. but you were so wrong, making you slightly mad at how perfect he seemed to be.

“nope” popping your ‘p.’ “do you?”

renjun’s facial expressions relaxed slightly. “no, i don’t.”

“why’d you come here then?” you mentally cursed and slapped and pinched and kicked yourself for accidentally not sounding the friendliest, your nervousness acting for you. “you sure you don’t need my help?”

renjun was taken back from your tone, oblivious to your feelings. there’s the gryffindor. they always have to be boasting. renjun huffed at his thoughts. he had not expected your first talk to be like this. your tone lightly hit his pride, so he automatically had to retaliate, “you’re the one to talk. you have an explanation for not being able to keep your eyes off me?” renjun laughed mockingly but not at you, at himself for being such a hypocrite.

defeated, you couldn’t keep up your relaxed attitude, “i. . . i just. . .” the eye contact you both shared was so intense you couldn’t even think straight, and neither could he. “s-sorry for bothering you. i’ll. . . leave you alone.”

before you could stand up from the chair, renjun pulled out the one beside you and sat facing your body. he sighed, “i’m sorry too. that didn’t come out as intended. but i need to know if i’m being too hopeful or not?”

hopeful? you remind yourself to pinch yourself later in case this a dream or some sort of spell. you hoped that your friends didn’t do anything without telling you since they’ve been suggesting that you use a love potion to “make everything easier,” but you profusely refused their incredibly stupid proposition each time they had brought it up to discuss.

“do you need tutoring, is that why?” he continued. his arms sat on his knees.

each and every one of his words entered one ear and went out the other as you wondered on what he was feeling hopeful for. “hopeful?”

his lifted his elbows off his knees and placed them on the table slowly, looking as if he was thinking. “i just thought that maybe you had reasons other than academic ones for coming here when i do.” he spoke very, very slowly that it was torturing. “am i right?”

you hated every second of this for the awful awkward tension, but this is the moment that you’ve been daydreaming of for weeks. though, you were shocked at how renjun noticed you despite trying to be as sneaky as possible — but your friends and renjun would say otherwise. “if i say yes. . .” your eyes wondered around his figure seated in front of you.

“i would be correct then.” he finished the sentence for you, not baring to wait longer. he moved his head towards your gaze on the floor behind him to try and get your eyes to focus on him.

and when you did, you saw the sparkle and hint of joy in his eyes making you feel truly confident. “then yes.”

—

it’s been nearly a month since your first interaction with one another, and renjun never misses a day of making fun of your past actions that you now admit were creepy. though after his friend, lee donghyuck, informed you in his own sneaky actions that you weren’t able to notice before, you have not let him live peacefully. renjun’s friend group was ecstatic when he told them about finally speaking to you and being with you. but renjun’s fully aware that they were more excited over the fact he can finally stop moping over not knowing how to approach you, achieving their peace since he can finally stop talking. though, he has a new topic to gush over — your relationship.

being together side by side and actually conversing with one another allowed renjun to see you in a deeper level, giving him more reasons to appreciate the special being that you are. he loved every second he spent with you. hearing you laugh at something that he had said or done makes renjun feel like he had reached the top of the highest mountain. holding your delicate hands while walking through the hallways made him feel like the most successful man on earth, and he proudly bragged over it. renjun loved how he felt so at ease and encouraged whenever he felt your presence around him. you don’t even need to be right by him to make him feel reassured. your presence alone was enough.

and you especially loved how he still chooses to love all those things despite your questionable actions in the past.

you loved being with him so much that you tolerate being in the library and actually reading beside him, or at least try to read. though, he has to hold your hand in order for you to fully commit yourself into studying with him. but both of you don’t complain.

you sat in a vacant table in the library, but this time, you sat next to the boy who you used to admire from a far. bouncing your leg out of boredom, “can we take a break?” you whispered in his ear.

renjun let out a small breathy laugh. “we just got here.” he whispered back, his gaze not leaving the thick book in front of you both.

your mouth slightly hanged open and you tightened your grip on his hand, “lies.” renjun squeezed your hand back playfully, still not looking at you. “please, jun, we’ve been here for an hour and you need to give yourself a break.”

silence.

you let go of his hand and puffed when he still didn’t spare a glance at you. defeated once again, you slid his notebook toward you and flipped through the pages, trying to entertain yourself by reading his notes. how fun.

widening your eyes in awe when you came across a page that showed a sketch of a person who looked exactly like you, with small hearts and tiny sparkles surrounding the figure sat on a table. your fingers lightly brushed the page, admiring how talented your boyfriend is.

“i drew that the day i came up to you.”

still strucked, you faced him and you were finally met with his beautiful eyes. “i think you need to update it. i look a bit different now.” you suggested with a smile that he cannot let down.

he hummed, “yeah, a tad bit huh?” you nodded eagerly which he laughed at. “i suppose i should work on it right now.” he reached for his notebook and flipped to an empty page, fixing his position so he can get a proper view of your face.

renjun did not hesitate to start drawing. he knew every detail of yours by heart, he honestly could draw a portrait of you relying solely on his memory. renjun has got every line, dot, and scar on your divine profile engraved in his mind since he thinks about you every second, literally. though, he still chooses to look up from his notebook to get a view of your face. not because he had forgotten a detail, but because he can’t refuse an opportunity to admire that face of yours. returning back to sketching with the most genuine smile you’ve ever seen on a person, with his pupils dilated. you definitely didn’t mind going to the library more often if you get to see renjun like this each time. you speak for both of you as renjun seems to be enjoying this moment just as much as you are. renjun’s hand that isn’t occupied reached for yours, with a grip that made it seemed like he’d never let go.

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lizbotw · 4 years ago

Note

Karasuno popsicle eating competition? 👀👀👀 (i saw you were bored so-)

Karasuno Popsicle Eating Competition

choco omg i loved this concept even though i was definitely not expecting it in the middle of fall, but also, i absolutely get. i spent all night thinking about this so thank you, you successfully cured my boredom, and now here it is, i finally wrote out all of my ideas. please enjoy because i had way too many thoughts about this ♡

Karasuno

100% Nishinoya’s idea.

What? He literally adores Garigari-kun popsicles. A proper popsicle enthusiast and therefore of course it would be none other than him that would come up with such a plan.

You would probably be walking home with the second-years after practice after a quick stop into Coach Ukai’s store to pick up snacks on the way.

Classic meat buns and crinkly packs of chips that always felt like they contained more air than well... chips—that’s what most of you had gotten. But Nishinoya? It was him and his trusty popsicle (soda flavored of course).

You had to stop too many times to keep track of because he kept devouring them before you could even blink and somehow the lucky bastard kept getting the ones with the sticks that qualify you to get another popsicle for free. You best believe he was cashing those in instantly.

You bumped Tanaka with your shoulder to get his attention, not taking your eyes off of the back of Noya as he disappeared up the hill and back to the store. “Why doesn’t he just buy a whole box of them at this point?”

“Mmm,” Tanaka hummed in agreement, hand deep in his bag of potato chips. He stuffed a few more in his mouth, crunching in thought. “Good point.”

Noya was never gone more than a few seconds and you didn’t even get the chance to reply before he came barreling down the hill, blue wrapper in his hand—prize secured it seemed.

The group didn’t resume walking just yet, waiting to see if finally Noya’s reign of exploiting Ukai’s store for free frozen treats would come to an end. (You were hoping the stick at the center of the popsicle would turn out to be blank, not have another cheesy message about how “You won an extra popsicle! Take this stick to any participating retailer to cash it in.”)

“Aren’t you tired of running back and forth?” That was Ennoshita, chewing on his meat bun and looking like he very much wanted to go home.

Noya pulled the popsicle out of his mouth to reply, tongue already stained blue. “Nope! It’s good cardio, plus I get a reward at the end!” As if to prove his point, Noya punctuated the end of his sentence by shoving the popsicle back into his mouth. It wouldn’t be long until he reached the stick and you guys would (potentially) have to wait another five minutes for him to repeat the process all over again.

“It makes sense to buy more than one though. We’re never going to get home at this rate,” Ennoshita grumbled. He was clearly too tired to be dealing with this or he would have dragged Noya away from the store by his ear a long time ago.

Before Noya could bring up the benefits of running up and down a hill in the middle of the night (on a school night nonetheless) again, Tanaka cut in. “Yeah, why don’t you buy an extra one for me, dude. Then we’ll match!”

It was like a switch was flipped and Noya’s eyes lit up, widening. “Dude, great idea!”

“Right? It was (Y/N)’s idea actually.”

“Tanaka, that was not what I said.” You were quick to defend yourself, casting a nervous side glance at Ennoshita who was already glaring daggers at you.

“Either way, I still think it’s a good idea. I’ll be right back-”

“Oh no you don’t.” Ennoshita grabbed a hold of the back of Noya’s shirt to prevent him from running off (he’d already gotten in position to run up the hill—getting two steps in before he’d been stopped—and if Ennoshita had been a second slower Noya would have gotten away completely).

“Even if you did get one for Ryuu, I don’t know if it’d be very fair,” Narita cut in. Clearly he was just being nice and thinking about everyone, but words had a tendency to get twisted when it came to matters like this, especially when the other second-years were involved.

“Yeah, what are the rest of us, Yuu? Chopped liver?” Kinnoshita finished off his meat bun and crumpled the empty napkin he’d been holding it with into a small ball in his hand to throw away later. He was smirking mischievously and you could tell he wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea of free popsicles.

“True. You really should be offering to get all of us one.” Of course Ennoshita was the one to deliver the final blow. The trio could be real menances when they wanted to be and judging by the look they all shared, they were clearly enjoying poking fun at Noya.

And of course Nishonya took their words seriously, a thoughtful expression taking over his features. Sarcasm? Not detachable when it came to popsicles. “You’re right.” Uh oh… Nishinoya having that faraway look in his eyes was never a good sign. “And if I get it for all of you then… I should just get for the entire team!” His voice increased in volume as he spoke until he had the sudden epiphany at the end that he shouted. Energized by the thought, he made to go run towards the store again but seemed to forget the vice grip Ennoshita still had on him.

Nishinoya struggling against the hold and Ennoshita trying to pull him back so you guys could finally go home and work on your excessive amount of homework quickly turned into a yelling match. You should have known it would turn out this way...

It looked like things were about to get messy, so you decided to intervene, speaking hurriedly before someone lost a limb in the scuffle. “I think it’s a good idea. Let’s just all go ask Ukai now if we can have popsicles tomorrow for practice and then we can go home.” You said the last part looking pointedly at Ennoshita—listen, you were also tired so you knew exactly how to get through to him. How Noya could keep going like this after a full day was beyond you.

There were a few more moments of grumbling and arguing but eventually everyone caved and agreed. And thus you six made the trek back up the small incline to the store perched off to the side. (“No, Nishinoya, we can’t ask him to bring only soda flavored ones. Where is the variety?”)

The jingle of the bell had Ukai looking up from the magazine he was reading and he fixed all of you with an exasperated stare. “You six again? Don’t you have homework or something?”

It didn’t take much convincing to get him on board and he waved a dismissive hand, leaning back in his chair, cigarette between his lips, and opening back up his magazine. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just get home already. I don’t want to be responsible for you getting back so late.”

He for sure delivered on his promise because the next day at practice you found a cooler hidden away in the storage closet in the gym. About an hour into a grueling practice session, he called for a break and revealed the surprise (thank god because Nishinoya had been buzzing with anticipation all day, almost spilling the secret several times, and you were sick and tired of it, please send help).

To say the team was excited was an understatement. The sweltering heat of the gym wasn’t exactly ideal and everyone was dying to go out into the summer sun—at least in the outdoors you had the chance of a light breeze whispering across your neck and relieving some of the suffocating tension of the weather.

Moving everything outside, you helped set up the cooler in the nearby school field.

Takeda was surprised that Ukai even considered doing something like this out of the blue and you overheard Ukai admit that he had been working the team pretty hard for the past few days and that they deserved a break.

The atmosphere was relaxed as some of the team members took up residence on the grassy field, sitting among the bright green and running their hands over the cushiony ground as they got situated.

Leave up to Nishoinya to completely ruin that.

Parking himself right in front of the cooler near the top of the hill and thus preventing anyone from gaining access to the mouthwatering treats inside, he declared, hands on his hips for emphasis, “We should make this a competition!”

Daichi was not having it. “Nishinoya, get down from there, we are not-”

“Challenge accepted!” Hinata and Kageyama were already glaring at each other, determination written all over their faces. (You’re pretty sure either Tanaka or Nishinoya told him some lie before about how eating an ungodly amount of popsicles would make him better at volleyball.) At this point, they were simply waiting for Nishinoya’s signal to begin.

“Now that’s the spirit! Let’s start!” And with that Noya stepped away from the cooler with a dramatic sweep of his arm, bowing low. That’s all the confirmation Hinata and Kageyama needed before they made a beeline for the cooler—you should make sure not to get in their way during this part because they are taking this very seriously.

Tsukishima would just scoff at their childishness, telling them to hurry up and move because they’re hogging all the space.

Tsukishima would not participate in “stupid competitions” of any kind, although he would take a popsicle (begruidngly so after Yamaguchi kept pestering him to do so; secretly he really wanted one though).

You could probably find Tsukishima sitting on the gym steps, rolling his eyes at Hinata and Kageyama. He was also the perfect distance away to throw snide comments at them without risking his safety. Just adding fuel to the flames from the sidelines—that was his role.

Yamaguchi would be perched faithfully next to him eating his own popsicle and Yachi would be leaning up against the side of the gym building since there was no more space left on the steps, talking with him. She kept getting over excited or focusing too much on the conversation though, so the sticky juice of her melting popsicle would be trickling down her arm before you could warn her.

She gets very embarrassed over the whole thing once you point it out and then when she’s busy flailing her arms in apology, that just gets the juice everywhere and then she feels even worse about it, and it’s a whole cycle from there.

If you wanted to join the trio, Tsukishima would not be willing to give up his spot on the steps, but if you kept bothering him about it, he’ll probably give in eventually to get you to shut up or you could take your chances trying to shove him over.

Yamaguchi would take pity on you and squeeze over a bit so you would have room, even though he barely had any space for himself.

Or honestly just go stand next to Yachi, she would be more than happy to have someone else to talk to. The only thing is you have to keep an eye on her melting popsicle or else the above scenario will probably happen except you’ll be right next to her when it does. I sure hope you didn’t wear your favorite shirt today.

Kiyoko is the unofficial referee for the competition.

She was appointed after a unanimous vote was taken between Tanaka and Nishinoya—yes, only those two got a say in it—and technically she would be the official referee if not for the fact that the official default for Karasuno is always pure chaos. Rules? There were no rules. Was this even a competition anymore? Why is everyone taking this so seriously? Does no one have any ideas for a prize for the winner? Why is Asahi on the floor?

Speaking of Asahi, he’s in charge of giving out the popsicles and supervising them in the cooler.

Noya tried to get him to join in on the real action of competing, but Suga and Daichi were absolutely against it because Asahi just looks like he would win. To them, that was automatically cheating (poor Ashai).

Kiyoko helps him out because she doesn’t have much of a job if the boys are doing whatever the hell they want anyway.

Please go hang out with those two at the cooler. You’ll have direct access to all of the popsicles (you now hold all the power) and you can actually relax and have a calm conversation—perfect for some lounging around in the sun. And if you did want to witness the chaos of the competition? Well you also have a front row seat to that. It’s a win-win situation honestly.

Nishinoya and Tanaka were, of course, a part of the competition with Hinata and Kagayama. Now the debate of whether the challenge was to eat as many popsicles as possible or to just eat a certain amount as fast as possible was up in the air because by God, they were doing both. That couldn’t be healthy.

Daichi originally started off just watching from the sides, shaking his head in disapproval and barking reminders at them to slow down lest they choke while on his watch.

Suga was next to him of course, eating his own popsicle and telling him not to be such a stick in the mud. He was enjoying this a little too much and honestly was already hatching a mischievous plan to join in on the chaos himself. Definitely cheers for everyone in order to rile up the situation further and then elbows Daichi in the gut when he tells him to stop encouraging them.

On one such occasion, as he rubbed at the sore spot on his side that Suga kept hitting, Daichi narrowed his eyes at the popsicle in his friend’s hand, taking special notice of it now. “Suga… what flavor is that?”

“Cherry. Why?” He continued eating innocently, although he had an inkling of where this was going to go.

“Didn’t you have two cherry ones already?”

“...maybe.”

There was a gasp of betrayal. “You know those are my favorite! You’re trying to eat all of them before me aren’t you!”

The bold accusation leads to them sharing a look and a tense beat of silence passing before they both sprint to the cooler, digging among the other flavors for the highly coveted cherry.

“It’s mine!”

“No, you have to learn to share!”

They inadvertently end up in the competition through this alone, grabbing as many cherry popsicles as they can and piling their arms high.

You have to remind them that the popsicles are going to melt if they keep that up and then there will really be none left, which then sends them into a new flurry of ripping open the packages and chomping down on the glistening red treat inside.

If you join in on the competition, I hope you have a big appetite because everyone involved is not slowing down anytime soon. They’ve doubled over due to brain freeze a few times already but that doesn’t seem to be stopping any of them. If you chicken out at some point, you will be socially outcasted. You have been warned.

Ennoshita, Kinoshita, and Narita are actually being normal and sitting a bit away on the grass, eating their popsicles at a normal rate (not scarfing them down like some people) and actually enjoying themselves.

Ideal group to join—lots of space to sit near them and stretch out on the field, good view of the uh… “competition” (can it really even be still considered that? what do you call the absolute chaos that’s going on there? honestly, why is no one stopping them? where are you, coach? isn’t this your job?) but still a safe distance away from the chaos, and lots of things to discuss. That’s right, these three know all the drama going on in school so sit back, eavesdrop on the gossip, and enjoy. You may or may not choke on your popsicles a few times because how do they even know these things.

Lean back on the grass and bask in the sunlight with these three—the good vibes are there. You’ll probably all end up laying down in the grass after you finish eating and just talking, poking fun at each other and rolling around in the grass in laughter at the latest antic or joke you’ve come up with.

Coach Ukai probably should have thought this over a bit more because it’s hard to get anyone back to practice after having this small taste of freedom (also tensions are still high after the competition so no one wants to work with each other anyway—let’s hope the grudges don’t last long), so he basically gives up for the day and dismisses “practice” early (it had already spiraled way past that at this point so the term was used loosely).

Everyone who was involved in the competition either never wants to hear the word popsicle ever again or they’re feral for more once the cooler is empty (Nishinoya).

Who would’ve thought a normal walk home would turn out like this?

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f00tball-imagines · 3 years ago

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Clandestine Meetings - James Rodríguez

Player: James Rodríguez

Word count: 1.280

Prompt: “Hello, can the next swap sunday projects be another part of Illciit Affairs (for you) and a sequel to Mirrorball (for Laura)? ✨” (Request by Anon)

A/N: Another Swap Sunday, another angsty James piece! ✨💗 This story is a sequel to @alltoolewin’s Mad Woman-inspired imagine 🥰 If you’re new here, you should read my Illicit Affairs fic first, though! 💖

His name lights up on my phone screen. Which lights up my pitch black bedroom. James pink heartlet-purple heartlet-sparkly heartlet. Because a single red one would have been inappropriate. I know damn well that my name in his phone isn't even a name. Just my first initial. Not even a full stop after it. A lonesome letter. Because apparently, that's much less suspicious.

James pink heartlet-purple heartlet-sparkly heartlet wants to know whether I'm still awake at this ungodly hour. After not talking to me for two whole weeks. "Yes," I type into the message box. I'm a fucking fool for texting back. I hit send. I hit my head against the wall. I'm in love with a married man who's kicking a ball around for a living. Who possibly can't and won't love anything or anyone that isn't his daughter. I'm a fucking mess. Please, James, get a pair of glasses, another one, a better one. What do you even want from me? I can't drink from a can unless someone's asking the waiter for a straw. I can't ask waiters for straws because I'm goddamn shy. I can't. I just can't. So why can't James find himself someone better?

My phone vibrates twice. Three simple letters. A "W", a "Y" and a "D". And a lonely question mark. I don't know who's teaching him English slang, abbreviations, the cool stuff. I don't even know why he's pretending to be cool. As I said, the man kicks a ball around for a living. That's not cool. That's fucking weird, now that I'm thinking about it.

"Nothing." What would I be doing at three in the morning? I spend my nights staring at my ceiling unless we're having sex. He knows that. "You?" Did I ask out of common courtesy or do I really want to know what's keeping him awake tonight?

He replies right away. "I'm in bed, I just can't fall asleep."

"Try drinking some tea. That helps."

He sends me an emoji, the facepalming one. I have to laugh, I really cannot help it, but I do find it hilarious when grown-ass men unironically use anything more than just a normal smiley or the occasional thumbs up. James pink heartlet-purple heartlet-sparkly heartlet ups the ante then. "You're a pain in the ass, princesa."

"You're a pain in-" I stop in my tracks. In my fucking vagina. I delete what I've written so far, just to type it out again. "You're a pain in general, Jamesito." I find myself giggling into the darkness. "My aches are developing aches because of you." I add the one emoji with the bandaged head, then I hit send.

"Want me to kiss it better?" It should've been "you're a pain in my vagina". Definitely.

"James, you're being silly. It's half past three. Go to sleep."

"Told you I'm fucking restless. Talk to me." Pouty puppy-eyed emoji. Dude, please!

I sigh, putting the phone down for a second. Yeah, sure. All of a sudden, I'm interesting again. Because there isn't anything else to entertain him. Of course. I should've known. "What about?" My text immediately is marked as read, homeboy isn't even closing our chat in-between messages it seems. I should be flattered, but instead, I just feel like there's something weird about this. Like, why don't you talk to your wife? Why aren't you on video call with your daughter? It's barely nine in Medellín, I know that. Of course I know that, I've pinned Colombia's local time to my home screen.

"Can I call you?"

You have a fucking phone in your hand. You certainly can. "No. Come over." I hate myself for putting myself through that. I hope he's got somewhere to be in the morning. I can't help but wish for him to turn me down.

"Now?"

Now... Now it's my turn to send him a facepalming emoji. No. Next Christmas, dummy.

"Okay," he replies after a split second. Okay, I'm coming over? Okay, cool, a stupid little emoji? Okay, fuck off? Okay what? Another second passes. Buzz buzz. "I'll be there in ten."

"Drive safe," my fingers type out. Crash that fucking car. After running me over, of course. End our misery. Please and thank you. I roll out of bed to put on some pants. He can deal with my washed out tee, he's seen worse. My naked body, for example. I stumble into the bathroom to pile on mascara, to take the fluffy, pink scrunchie out of my hair, to wash the thin film of cold sweat off my forehead. I don't know nervousness when it comes to him. There's just... anxiety. Every time we have one of our little fall-outs, my amount of working braincells gets reduced by two.

I sit down on the toilet lid to catch my breath. I'm gonna get dicked down and then discarded. It's okay, I'm used to it. I'm a one-trick-pony. But I'm just so good at that one trick that James keeps on crawling back to me. The pinkish polish on my nails is starting to chip, so I decide to adorn my fingers with a few rings to distract from that. They look cheap, they were cheap, but I consider them cute, so it's alright.

I don't like texting after my autocorrect has dubbed him Hummus not once, not twice, but several times. He doesn't like calling as his stutter tends to get worse on the phone. So this is nice. The real thing is always nice. "I missed you," he rasps with his arms still wrapped around my torso. "I missed you, too," I whisper back. Lies. I spent a long, long time cursing his name, relatively sure that I would never be moaning it again, that we were over and done. "I still haven't said Happy New Year," he states the obvious. We haven't spoken since Christmas. "No," I confirm, shaking my head. It was the worst New Year's Eve of my life. I've seen the pictures Daniela had posted on her Instagram. At least James has had a great time, apparently.

"Sorry. I thought I should leave you alone." Yes. Because that's the easy way out. "But... Happy New Year. I guess."

"Thanks. To you, too." It truly feels like New Year's. Waiting for the big something, just to end up disappointed because the big something turns out to be some underwhelming bullshit. "Better late than never." There's still snow on the streets, so it's alright, I guess.

"Yes."

"You're fucking annoying, James."

"Oh. Why?" And fucking stupid as well.

"Did you really come over to stand around in my hallway and wish me a Happy New Year? What are you? A caroler?"

"You told me to come."

"I'm not used to you doing as you're told." I force a laugh. I'm not used to niceties and such. I'm used to... the bad stuff.

He just shrugs. He's so unbelievably apathetic, I hate it! "You have the place to yourself tonight?"

"No. You're here with me." I know quite well that he was referring to my roommate. Who, in fact, is staying with her boyfriend for the weekend. I know quite well that he only asked because he is the furthest thing from an exhibitionist I could imagine.

"Ah. Yes. True." So damn stupid! I wish I could get up and leave. But I'm already standing and there's no way to escape my own apartment. "Well?" I ask in an awful attempt to make conversation. Well, he's gonna fuck me. He's gonna break my heart once again and I'm gonna like that. We've been there before. And we're gonna be there time and time again.

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azure-bliss · 4 years ago

Text

shinran oneshot

Fandom: DC

Pairing: Shinran

Excerpt:

“Shinichi,” she whispered, warm blue orbs losing focus as she looked at him, though her smile remained. She rose her hand to caress his cheek (she’s so, so cold). “You found us.”

Her chapped lips met his, and then, “Arigato.”

A/N: I swear that this was supposed to be fluffy but brain said nope, angst-infused it is. Also, I’m no expert in medicine nor the Japanese police system, even criminology for that matter. Spare me. Enjoy!

Day 9

“I should write a book.”

Shinichi’s first instinct was to snort, as he was reminded of Kogoro-ojisan’s—who he should really be calling otousan nowadays—intention of becoming a mystery novelist, much like his actual father. Kudo Yusaku had made millions writing his thrillers, and today, years after the older Kudo patriarch decided to publish his final novel, he was still adding money to the Kudo fortune.

Perhaps his mother playing the titular character in one of Night Baron’s spinoff adaptations, Lady Baron, played a huge factor too. His parents were weird that way, almost like a tag-team, because the moment Kudo Yusaku announced his writing retirement, Kudo Yukiko came out of hers.

It was as if they thought that the world could not handle more than three (he was pretty sure his popularity was on par with his parents, despite his lack of big screen appearances) famous Kudos at a time.

“Finally jumping on the full Kudo experience?” he teased, adjusting himself on the hospital bed where his wife sat, left arm wrapped around her whole frame, right palm covering hers.

Eyes focused on the little bundle in her arms, she hummed before answering, “A best-seller for sure.”

As if on cue, their newborn squirmed before revealing twin orbs that matched his mother’s, unfocused eyes looking up to the woman who went through hell and back prior to his birth.

“Anata,” she called, her tired voice laced with a hint of excitement. “He’s beautiful.”

Day 1

He stood in an abandoned room of an equally abandoned motel located just 50 km on the outskirts of Tokyo, the very location that had him and nearly the whole Tokyo Metropolitan Police Taskforce wrecking their brains and exhausting their resources to find. The identified suspect was one Seisaku Miyazaki, a serial rapist and killer with a tendency for flairs. The 27 crime scenes he left always had distinct blood splatter to them, resulting from either gunshot wounds straight to the temple, or intraoral ones.

Shinichi had never seen a crime scene so gruesome in his life.

As soon as Shinichi stepped into the room, the first thing he should have registered was the blood-spattered left wall and Seisaku’s limp and lifeless body on a chair in the same left corner, his riffle trapped in between his legs.

Instead, Shinichi’s frantic eyes zeroed on the figure on the bed in the middle of the room, merely 10 feet away from Seisaku’s body. The woman had her back against the headboard with an ungodly amount of blood running down her bottom half, arms cocooning a small bundle wrapped with a violet-colored cardigan—the same one she was last saw wearing before her disappearance.

She had her eyes on her baby, as if the newborn was the only person who mattered, seemingly unbothered by the chaos unfolding before her. It took the lead detective a full five seconds to notice that the newborn—oh God, their newborn—was not crying.

He was beside her in her flash, holding her tighter than he should. His wife was again, unbothered, but he noticed that she closed their baby more to her semi-naked chest. The cuts and bruises on her face and torso did not go unnoticed by him. All of Seisaku’s victims had the same markings, but unlike those women who bled from their heads, she was bleeding from bottom down.

Kudo Shinichi screamed for the medic.

It was only then did he hear a soft cry, and he released a breath he did not know he was holding.

“Anata,” she called, finally removing her gaze from their son to look at him “He’s beautiful.”

Her face was pale and hollow, but there was no mistaking the warmth in her eyes and the gentleness of her smile.

His heart both bloomed and broke for her.

“Ran,” he choked out the name he’d been desperately calling for the past few hours. “You’re going to be okay.”

When the medic team finally appeared, his wife first handed the closest medic the baby, “Take care of him, onegai,” she requested, sounding too much like a plea. “He’s a good boy.”

Releasing her son’s warmth, the brunette fell back onto her husband, who caught her naked shoulders, throwing her full weight onto his.

“Shinichi,” she whispered, warm blue orbs losing focus as she looked at him, though her smile remained. She rose her hand to caress his cheek (she’s so, so cold). “You found us.”

Her chapped lips meet his, and then, “Arigato.”

With a sigh of relief, she shut her eyes, and rolled limp further into her husband’s embrace.

Shinichi’s world stood still, the only things registering in his mind were his wife’s cold body, and their newborn’s loud cries in the distant.

Day 8

She was in pure fight mode, forcing her body to function and conscious to stay awake. Once she knew that her child was safe, all the injuries and agony finally caught up to her, and she welcomed the numbing darkness.

The last thing Ran remembered was Shinichi’s rapid heartbeat drumming her ears.

The new mother woke up a week later, on an unfamiliar bed, to the familiar but tormented eyes of her husband.

“Baby,” she mustered breathily, and her husband’s eyes all but softened.

She knew that they were safe.

Day 10

It was another two whole days before she was deemed fit enough to hold her newborn.

“Anata,” she beams, “He’s beautiful.”

“He is,” the Heisei-Reiwa Holmes agreed. “The brat gave the doctors and nurses a fright with his fever, would not stop crying too.”

If his wife was worried, she did not show it. “Is that true?” she cooed, “But you’re okay now, aren’t you sweetheart? Your Papa found us after all.”

Day 0

Kudo Ran did not fit Seisaku Miyazaki’s victim profiles by the slightest. The females he preyed on were usually late teens to early twenties, lived alone, physically petite, and had questionable practices in their private lives.

Or, in the words of Seisaku himself, whores.

Catching the serial killer had been the detective’s top priority, with the death count at 27 and the most recent killings at the heart of Tokyo, it was one of the most challenging cases for him to date.

With half of the murders in Tokyo and the other half in Osaka, it was a no brainer for both Detective of the East and West to join hands, special taskforces from Tokyo and Osaka rallying under their (unofficial) command. The investigation had been ongoing for more than four months before special unit finally made a definite progress, being able to identify a potential victim, shadowing her day and night, coming in to save her just in time from being abducted, and arresting Seisaku’s paid minion.

Genzo Okubo was no Seisaku, the two detectives figured. The latter was confident, methodical, a true psychopathic mastermind, yet the man they caught fumbled with his words, sweated profusely, and most importantly, had little loyalty as he quickly confessed to everything.

The unit rejoiced, but Shinichi and Heiji knew that it was too simple, as if Seisaku wanted Gento to be caught.

By the time they were finished with the guy, it was already 2 a.m.

The lack of miscalls from him wife caught him off guard.

He tried not to panic, reasoning to himself that Ran was probably at her parents’, fell asleep, and his in-laws forgot to inform him. After all, it would not be the first time this had happened. If anything, the Mouris had not stopped fussing over their daughter, and with this case constantly on his mind, Shinichi had not really been the doting husband and father-to-be that he ought to be. Their six-year-old twins were away with his parents somewhere in New York, the elder Kudo couple wanting to give the once-again new parents space to get ready for the youngest Kudo’s arrival.

Halfway through dialing Eri’s number (because his mother-in-law was a light sleeper), Heiji burst into the break room with a suspicious package in his hands.

“Kudo,” the dark-skinned detective panted, as if he just ran up flights of stairs instead of taking the elevator, “that bastard’s got Nee-chan.”

Inside the package were two things: a picture of a very pregnant Kudo Ran, blindfolded and gagged, and a lone platinum wedding band.

Day 10

“He panicked.”

“Hmm?”

“Seisaku-san, he panicked.” His wife stated, the name of her kidnapper rolling of her tongue like she was mentioning a student of hers. “I started having contractions, started bleeding too. He mumbled something about ‘not following his plan’.”

Shinichi rose his brows, puzzled by Ran’s statement, but he let her continue.

“I think,” she paused, readjusting her hold on their son when they boy started to writhe, “that he was halfway out when Seisaku-san decided to shoot himself.”

Her voice was cool, too indifferent, and deep down, Shinichi knew that his wife may be scarred for life.

“Three sounds,” she gulped then snickered. “Me screaming during the final push, the baby’s cries, and the riffle going off.”

Shinichi held her tighter.

“His blood was everywhere, Shinichi. On the walls, the carpet, the bed, my face,” There are now cracks in her voice, the memories flooding her overwhelmed mind as she remembers it all again, “On our baby boy.”

“Ran…” He trailed off, not knowing what to say. His wife and son were alive, but the trauma she went through was something he wished on no one, not even Seisaku himself.

“I didn’t want him to get cold, so I wrapped him with my cardigan. Not the most hygienic, I know, but I didn’t exactly have many choices,” a chuckle. “He locked the door, so I couldn’t escape, and I couldn’t exactly kick the door open, my energy was spent on giving birth. So, I started breastfeeding the baby, burping him…making sure he was alive long enough for you to find us.”

Something in him shattered even more.

Ran averted her eyes away from their son to look at her husband, their faces only a few centimeters apart. There were no tears in their eyes, the pain and regret that remained in their hearts too crushing to be expressed by mere crying. “I’m safe, our boy is safe, because you found us. None of this is your fault, so please, Anata,” she kisses him before continuing, “don’t blame yourself.”

Shinichi could not imagine what life would be without her. She was his wife, partner, lover, best friend, soulmate, the mother of his children, his world, his everything.

“Okay,” he promised simply, capturing her lips for a second time before kissing her forehead. “I love you.”

He felt her smiling into his neck, and at that moment, nothing was wrong; they were whole.

They stayed like that for a few more moments, savoring the peaceful yet short time they had with their baby boy before one of the nurses took him away for the night.

Day 11

“Your book,” Shinichi remembered far into the night. “What are you going to write about?”

A mischievous look twinkled in Ran’s eyes, and the man knows that his wife will heal just fine. “Kidnapped 101.”

- end

A/N: Nope, not their firstborn. And I also imagine that Ran has had her fair share of getting kidnapped so might as well write a book on it lmao.

#shinran #shinichi kudo #ran mouri #fanfic #detectiveconan #hurtandcomfort?

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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years ago

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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.20}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.7k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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It was a week before Christmas break, on a snowy Friday evening, when Robin and Snape found themselves sitting at one of the tables in the lab yet again, waiting patiently while their newest project simmered quietly in a small cauldron in front of them. Eventually the draught would turn in colour, going from a dull yellowish brown to a brilliant ruby red, but until then there was nothing to do but chat while they had their usual evening coffee.

After the firewhisky endeavour in late October, most of November and December had gone by remarkably unspectacularly, and while they had spent some more evenings in Snape's room throughout that time, mainly because of the music that had stayed in his room in form of Robin's old record player, Robin hadn't ever dared to even consider staying over again. Not that she wouldn't have wanted to –gods, she would give about anything even just to sleep in that cloud of a bed again– but she was rather certain that she couldn't spend another night in his space without doing something stupid. Especially when he was starting to become less opposed to this innocent physical closeness, to her touch and to touching her in return, she was better off sparing herself the temptation of crossing lines she shouldn't even come close to. They had already gotten so far, and she couldn't jeopardize that for a ridiculous spurt of nightly braveness. So it was their normal routine of staying up until ungodly hours to work and talk and simply enjoy each other's company that brightened her days no matter what.

"Your hair smells like pineapple again." Snape remarked in a dramatic sigh, which effectively drew Robin out of her head again.

"Yeah, well, I forgot my shampoo and had to steal from Cas once more." She shrugged with a humoured huff, then took a long sip of her cooled down coffee and quirked an eyebrow at him. "Do you honestly detest pineapple that much?"

"Yes. They smell too sweet for how acidic they are."

"But I know for a fact that you like lemons, and those are even more acidic."

"I do like lemons, yes."

"Funny."

"For someone who cannot tell lemons and limes apart it certainly must be, yes."

Robin rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, but the smile on her lips gave away her true sentiments. He honestly would never let her live that down… and it had been years! That man had a memory better than a photo album or an audio recorder, and she found herself stuck between pride, envy and admiration. The middle would do.

"Next time I'll use Jorien's coconut body wash too, so that you get stuck with me smelling like a freaking piña colada, if you'd prefer that." She teased him right back with a small smirk, but then couldn't help laughing at his horrified expression. "Don't worry, I for my part have no intention of smelling like a fruity cocktail. Would be the cherry on top of everything, eh?"

"Funny." Now it was Snape who rolled his eyes, using his flattest and most indifferent tone, and Robin had to laugh even more. Especially when he finally couldn't help the smirk on his lips any longer either.

"Speaking of drinks, isn't-..." Robin was cut off by a loud knock, which made both her and Snape frown at each other simultaneously, then at the door. It was past one o'clock in the morning; who the hell would dare bothering them at this time?! With every intention to find an answer to that question, it was Robin who jumped off her chair and skipped to the door this time around, with Snape just a few steps behind her.

When she opened up, she was greeted by the kind and absolutely unsurprised face of none other than Professor McGonagall. Robin's eyebrows rose for a second, but she didn't forget her manners over her surprise. "Good evening, Professor. Is everything alright?"

"Good evening indeed, Miss Mitchell. Severus…" McGonagall gave both of them a nod and a smile, looking from one to the other as Snape came to stand so close behind Robin that she could feel his warmth on her back, as well as the gentle brush of his robes whenever he took a breath. It took quite a bit of effort on her part to keep focusing on McGonagall as she spoke on, clearly addressing Snape now. "I'm afraid I have news you won't like to hear."

"What happened?" Snape's voice was the perfect disdainful indifference once more, and Robin had no doubt that his expression was made to match.

"Pomona received an urgent owl an hour ago and henceforth has personal matters to attend to all weekend, which means she will not be able to see to the mandatory dancing instructions of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students tomorrow morning, and seeing as Filius isn't an option, by his own choice may I add, you're going to have to attend to half of the students, Severus." McGonagall stated in one long breath, with a pointed expression that left no room for arguments. Behind Robin's back, Snape held his breath for a second, which she only could tell by the lacking brush of fabric against her jumper.

"Certainly." He finally drawled, dutiful as much as disdainful. It wasn't hard to guess his thoughts on the matter, especially after he had successfully avoided giving this dance class for the past years. "I shall instruct the Slytherins myself, and whichever half of Pomona's students you wish to… impose on me."

"The Ravenclaws should be a better fit for you, I believe." The transfiguration professor was quick to reply. "Would you mind having the time between breakfast and lunch, in the great hall? I myself would prefer the timeframe from lunch until dinner."

"I am not partial to any time."

"It's settled then. You'll teach the Slytherins and Ravenclaws after breakfast." McGonagall smiled almost mischievously, or at least in a decent amount of amusement. "I believe a standard waltz shouldn't be a problem to you, after demonstrating it quite so nicely with Miss Mitchell at last year's ball."

Snape didn't reply, but Robin could feel him glaring at McGonagall over her shoulder. Honestly, she couldn't even blame him for being annoyed by the turn of events. This was probably the last thing he had expected to be doing on this Saturday, especially since they had previously made different plans. Looks like those would have to wait yet again.

"Anyway, I don't want to hold you two up any longer than necessary." McGonagall finally spoke on when nobody replied to her previous statement. "What is it you are doing at this time of night anyway?"

"Working." Both Robin and Snape replied in unison, in the same evading neutrality, and the woman in front of them couldn't help smiling in sincere amusement at their mannerisms.

"I see." She said, and tried to glance past Snape into the lab, only to give up after a half-hearted attempt. "I was merely being curious; I unfortunately have to conduct most of my experiments alone these days."

"If you find yourself looking for an assistant, I can only recommend you to ask Jorien Blakeley. She would be delighted, and I know for a fact that she has a remarkably strong interest in transfiguration." Robin couldn't help the blurb of words from escaping, but she also didn't quite regret it. "And as far as I'm aware, she has been getting fairly high grades as well."

McGonagall looked surprised at the suggestion, then she frowned to herself for a moment and finally smiled at Robin again as she went to reply. "Miss Blakeley really does have a talent for the subject, however I wasn't aware that she would take interest in furthering her knowledge beyond the classroom topics. Nor that she would enjoy having to spend more time with me than necessary."

"Believe me, she does. Very much so even. But she admires you too much to bother you with questions she believes to be too insignificant. Actually, she believes herself to be too insignificant. I try to tutor her as much as possible, but I am by far not the most proficient in the subject, nor can I teach her as much as she would want to learn."

"I certainly will consider speaking to the girl about assisting me then. Thank you, Miss Mitchell." McGonagall said in prevailing mild amusement, but definitely also appreciation, and then gave both Snape and Robin another nod. "Anyway, goodnight for now. I will see you both tomorrow."

As the professor left, Robin closed the door once again and let out a long breath while she followed Snape back to their stools. Perhaps McGonagall would ask Jorien for her assistance indeed, and that might just take some work off Robin's hands if the girl would get her answers from someone more adept in the subject.

"Funny." Snape said after a moment, as he gave Robin a teasing smirk. "You never admired me enough to spare me from your questions."

Robin gave him an immediate glare, but then also a smirk in return. "No, I admired you enough to know that you were the only one who could keep up with my questions in the first place."

"You've always been by far brighter than anyone around you." His smirk widened, and Robin rolled her eyes exaggeratedly to act over the warmth spreading in her chest and on her cheeks. "Logically, nobody but me could handle you even if you came with instructions."

"Hey!" She couldn't help laughing again at last, and nudged him in the shoulder before she slumped down in her seat. "I don't even know if that last part was supposed to be a compliment or an insult."

"That would be for you to decide."

Indeed, Robin decided on taking it as a compliment. If he thought that his intellect had somewhat found a match in her, she honestly could only feel flattered, brilliant as he was. Besides, he had long stopped insulting her for anything more than a tease in the first place… so a compliment it was. And honestly, Robin absolutely didn't mind that he was the only one who was able to handle her, and she even wholeheartedly agreed with that assessment. But the thought of handling things brought her on to a different topic of thought in an instant, and she frowned to herself for a second.

"I guess our plans for tomorrow are cancelled now, aren't they?" She stated more than asked, and the amusement faded off her face as it vanished from his as well. "I mean, we'll never make it all the way around the black lake between lunch and dinner, especially not in this snow. It'll be too dark to see our own feet even before we have walked half the distance if we start in the afternoon."

"Unfortunately." He sighed, then his face set in a scowl. "Teaching fifty fourth years how to dance certainly is the last thing I expected to do tomorrow."

For a second Robin had to snort at the confirmation of her previous assumption, in almost the same words even, but it was a bitter amusement and it confused Snape more than it cheered either of them up, so her face set back into a grim expression before long . "Too bad Sprout had urgent matters to attend to right on this weekend, out of an entire year to choose from."

"I was starting to believe I had once and for all gotten out of giving dancing lessons… The previous years I wasn't even asked to."

"I luckily only had to suffer through it once, during fifth year. Remember that? I danced with this redhead and everyone made a big deal out of it."

"How could I forget?" Snape huffed, rolling his eyes. "Minerva kept going on and on afterwards about how neat it would be to… encourage that non-existent connection she however believed to see between you and the Weasley boy."

Robin was the one rolling her eyes now, with an indignant scoff to accompany the expression. "Honestly, even back then I was far closer to you than to that boy, or to anyone at all really. You knew that, I even told you about it!"

"That you did." He confirmed, then lost some of the annoyance as he let out a quiet sigh. "I believe it isn't of relevance anymore, Minerva has long since come to her senses as has everyone else who attempted to conspire on the issue. But other than that, I would still like to hear more about your dancing lesson."

"Ah, yes…" Robin said, as the realization hit her that he probably hadn't received any such lessons during his time as a student nor gotten to witness the ones given in the previous years. "Well, uh, it wasn't spectacular actually. In the beginning there was a quick explanation about the whys and hows of dancing, and then McGonagall forced some seventh year boy to demonstrate the dance with her. After that we just had to pick a partner and practiced for like… two hours perhaps. A bit longer maybe. That's it."

"I assume Minerva corrected your errors while you practiced?"

"I'm not too bad at dancing, so she didn't concern herself much with me, but others' mistakes she did correct relentlessly from what I could tell."

"Good. I can do that."

"I think it'll actually be easier for you than it was for her." Robin shrugged at her own thought. "You shouldn't have the problem of people slacking off and fooling around. They're far too scared of you to cause any mayhem or refuse your orders. Easy."

The corner of his lips quirked up for a second, but then set back into a grim line. "I wouldn't call forcing some dunderhead to demonstrate the dance with me particularly 'easy'. Students are far less repelled by Minerva, which makes the entire endeavour less of a sickening prospect for her in return."

Either it was his self-deprecating words or the thought of him dancing with someone else that made Robin feel sour in an instant, but either way she had to swallow the lump in her throat down quite forcefully before she replied. "I… You… uh, I understand how dreadful it must seem to you to dance with someone. But I'm sure whoever you choose will be less repelled by it than you are, if that helps anything."

"I have no intention to force anyone to dance with me at all."

"Yes, no, but… I mean, since it's the fourth years we're speaking of anyway, I'm sure you could ask Jorien. She's quite indifferent to most people; she wouldn't care if she was dancing with you or with someone else. And if I ask her to do it, she will. Especially after I just advertised her to McGonagall."

"Actually, I was going to ask you." He said, surprisingly straightforward and direct in his approach of the topic. "For the favour of helping me with the entire lesson. It would be to the best advantage of everyone if the demonstration was nothing short of perfect, and an additional pair of eyes will certainly be beneficial for the students' practice afterwards as well."

A weight lifted off Robin's heart in an instant, and she had to smile at his through and through logical and desperately appropriate reasons for asking her assistance. "Of course I will help you. Anytime, with anything. You know that. And having someone to explain the female part will probably be good too."

"Likely. To be honest however, while those are all perfectly good reasons to ask you to do this with me, they aren't truly my measure. I rather know your presence is going to make the entire ordeal a lot more bearable, as it always does. And in the end, I would simply hate to dance with anyone but you, no matter the circumstances." He added after a moment, again in a shocking easy sincerity that almost had Robin's heart leaping out of her chest.

Her smile broadened until it was allconsuming in its radiance, like all those times when she failed to suppress the stupid hope that lived in every shadow of her mind these days. No. He would hate dancing with anyone else because Robin was the only person he found bearable to touch. Not because of any other reason. Who wouldn't choose a friend over a stranger? Her smile fell, her heart sank, and she couldn't help the hurt from showing in her eyes at least.

"You really should stop that, you know…" She finally said in a sad chuckle that was heartbreaking even to her own ears.

"What?" Snape asked in return, and his expression fell in accordance with Robin's. He looked almost taken aback, confused at least, about whatever he had obviously done wrong this time and Robin felt even worse for speaking up at all. She didn't dare to answer. So he asked again. "Stop what?"

"Forcing this ridiculous hope onto me." She said before she knew, with a sad smile and a gaze that dug souldeep into his. "Every time you say things like that, it forces a little more hope to seep through the cracks in my walls, and I need you to stop. I don't want to hope, I can't bear it… Hope is dangerous. It's torturing me."

Her words seemed to confuse him even more, and while he frowned deeply at her, the subtle hurt in his own eyes was undeniable. He wanted to understand what he had done wrong… she knew. But he hadn't done anything wrong at all, nothing but being who he was. And being who he was, he wouldn't let go that easily. "Hope for what, Robin? You have to be a bit more precise if I am to understand. And I would very much like to."

The sight, the thought almost broke Robin entirely, while his blissful oblivion almost made her laugh in return. Oh, how stupid could she be? For the first time he had done absolutely everything right by being completely honest, by trying to talk about an issue, and here she was, doing absolutely everything wrong in return. It wasn't his fault that she loved him too much, and it wasn't his fault that she couldn't handle her own stupid emotions.

"Nevermind." She sighed finally, tearing her eyes away from his to look down at her empty coffee mug on the table. "I'm just being stupid because my brain is too tired to function. You know me… I talk nonsense sometimes when I'm exhausted. If it wasn't for the stupid potion that just refuses to change colour, I'd be going straight to bed."

"Actually, it changed colour twenty minutes ago and I put a stasis on it to continue the work tomorrow afternoon."

Robin groaned in frustration and closed her eyes before hiding her face in her hands. "See! I didn't even notice! Great friend you have in me… and an even worse colleague. I'm such a failure…"

For a moment it was silent in the lab, and while Robin just hoped that she hadn't entirely screwed things up, she could practically hear his mind working at light speed. Gods, he had only said he quite liked to dance with her… and she'd gone on to make a scene of it. Great. So much for being better.

"To tell you the truth, I haven't the remotest idea what to do in a moment like this. What to say or do that would make things better for you and not worse. But I assume… perhaps this is the kind of situation where an embrace might prove helpful?" He finally spoke up, reluctantly and more than a little uncertain about his assessment of the situation, but without a hint of discomfort or doubt about the underlying offer he was making. Robin's hands dropped from her face in an instant, and before she knew, her eyes were filling with tears of adoration and exhaustion and overwhelm. His brows furrowed in return, his face a careful layer of neutrality.

Robin wanted to reply, wanted to say how damn right he was in that assumption, wanted to assure him that she wasn't being so bloody emotional because of anything he had done wrong, but because of all the things he was doing right. But all she could do was to nod, and then push herself off her stool to cross the space between them. Snape for his part stayed perched on the edge of his seat when Robin wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and he pulled her flush against him when his arms circled her waist in return. They were almost the same height like this, or at least closer to it, which allowed Robin to hide her face in the soft fabric in the crook of his neck when her tears finally started spilling over. She didn't even know why exactly she was being so bloody stupid right now, so ridiculous and pathetic and weird… Her almost-slip of emotions hadn't backlashed. Her secret was still safe. Their experimental potion was intact and waiting to be continued. She would get to dance with him tomorrow, and help him with a class. She even was wrapped up in the most comforting hug ever at the moment, if that alone wasn't enough reason to be happy! Everything was bloody perfect. And yet, when he ever so subtly started playing with the tips of her hair that cascaded down her back, a strangled sob escaped her lips and he stopped in an instant.

"No, please…" She sniffed before she could think better of it. His hands in her hair had felt so nice… a hint of a sign that he enjoyed their closeness as well. "Please keep doing that."

It took a few seconds before he complied, but once he did, Robin sighed under her breath, and she was almost sure that she felt him smile against her shoulder in return. True or not, the idea sufficed to send a shiver down her spine, and finally she found herself able to relax. The tension left her body like a burn washed away by the sweet relief of a cooling water, and while she sunk deeper into the warm comfort of another perfect embrace, her spiralling emotions became subject to her will once more. It really was alright… they were alright.

"I'm really looking forward to dancing with you tomorrow." Robin finally said, in a calm tone and with a calm mind once again. He deserved to know that much at least, and it was a perfectly appropriate thing to say. "The circumstances… nah, but as long as we're suffering through it together, it will be alright."

"I take it then that an embrace really does make you feel better. I shall have to remember." He replied in amusement, and while that did make Robin smile, she also wasn't fooled over the astonishment he tried to hide behind it. Indeed, it was rather sad to think that he wouldn't know how comforting the embrace of a beloved person could be. Or perhaps he simply doubted that his embrace would have this effect on her. Either way, Robin made a mental note to make him understand and believe both in the nearer future.

"You shall indeed, I do feel a lot better. Always, with you." She sighed softly and closed her eyes to enjoy the feeling of his arms around her now that she could focus on it at last. "Still am beyond tired though."

"Perhaps you should go to bed. Tomorrow certainly will be exhausting enough with all the dunderheads stumbling through the room and tripping over their own two feet."

"We should totally play bullshit bingo with the idiotic things they might say or do…" Robin chuckled to herself and absentmindedly traced the seams of his robes she could reach with her fingertips. "That might just make the entire ordeal more amusing. For us, at least."

"How… temptingly unprofessional." He drawled in return, and the deep tone of his voice being so delightfully juxtaposed by his words made Robin snicker even more. "We most definitely should play indeed."

"I think I'm a bad influence on you." She yawned, and somehow it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep her legs from giving out beneath her, now that her entire body was relaxing and being held up by his. "And I would have to say that I love it."

Her words made Snape chuckle, which was a sound so exquisite in its low rumbling depths that it sent new waves of shivers all over Robin's body, which left goosebumps in their wake in return. Bloody hell, he most definitely could feel the effects he had on her now… But at least he was kind or indifferent enough not to comment on it. She could always blame it on being cold or tired or something of that sort, should the necessity arise.

"You certainly have the strongest influence on me, and I daresay you are the only one I allow myself to be affected by in the first place."

"Well, if I'm the only one, being the strongest is hardly an accomplishment. And I would be the strongest and the weakest at the same time, you know…"

"Will you just take a compliment when I accidentally give you one for once, you insufferable little creature?"

"I can try." Robin grinned at his half humoured and half feignedly annoyed tone. "Even though I technically wouldn't call 'insufferable little creature' a compliment."

"But I would." Snape returned, and his smirk didn't need to be seen to make its way straight to Robin's heart, making it soar. "You are indeed quite tiny, as well as considerably different from any average humanness, and you most definitely are insufferable."

"Thanks…" She snorted, then stifled another yawn and wondered for a moment what would happen if she just fell asleep right in this spot; she was hardly supporting her own weight anymore anyway. Chances were high he'd wake her right back up or she'd cause him trouble if he tried not to, which wouldn't be much of a gain in either direction, and thus she banned the idea into the back of her mind.

"It seems like that was quite a weak attempt at humour on my end, going by your response. My apologies."

"No, I'm sorry, it really was funny! I'm just too tired to appreciate it properly."

"I still stand by my suggestion that you should go to bed. Teaching is more exhausting than one would assume, especially if it involves watching fifty students at once."

"You're right… I know."

That seemed to be the cue for both of them to ever-reluctantly let go of each other in the same silent agreement as always, and for Robin to sigh softly in disappointment at the loss of his delectable warmth and comfort in return. Yet, she didn't let any of it seep into her expression as she went to pick up her backpack from the other table and only turned back to Snape when she halted at the door before letting herself out.

"I really am looking forward to tomorrow." She said once again even though she'd told him already, but she couldn't help it. The excitement was there and it was strong, and he deserved to know. "I miss dancing with you."

He gave her one of his rare smiles in return, a genuine one that wasn't teasing or humoured but simply content and perhaps just a little excited as well. "This time I would like to ask you to dance though, if you will let me."

"Well, then you simply will have to be faster than me, won't you?" Robin smirked at him, wiggling her eyebrows for a second, and then had to laugh at her own ridiculous silliness. It really was too late for her own good. "Goodnight, Severus."

"Until tomorrow." He replied, and when Robin stepped out into the hallway with a huge smile lingering on her face, she couldn't help but think that perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing that their plans for tomorrow had been changed. Maybe she would have to thank Sprout for being absent at some point.

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wu-sisyphus-gang · 3 years ago

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Motion Sickness Chapter 67

Who’s my personal favorite chapter in this whole stupid story. You are.

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(Weiss PoV)

Blake and I were on a stakeout. We were the most patient members of team RWBY so we made a certain amount of sense. We were watching over a dance club called The Den from a rooftop nearby. We'd gotten an anonymous tip about Cloud Strife and Neapolitan being in this location and Winter had put us on it.

She had us here while she watched over another location where they'd been spotted. It was long work, sitting out just watching a doorway on a bare grimy rooftop.

We found nothing for hours and hours.

Eventually it bore fruit and a woman with pink and brown hair and an exposed midriff came out of The Den. She was followed by a tall blonde with spiky hair.

He wore dark clothes and a half cape. But his weapon… it was unmistakable. Bronze and white in a harness on his back...

"Blake…" I hissed.

She jumped from the roof after the two of them without a word.

“Stop right there!” Blake demanded uncharacteristically loud. Combat was like that. There was ‘I’m the quiet type’ and then there was ‘I need to fight right now.’

Neapolitan vanished. One moment she was there, the next she was gone, she just shattered like a pane of glass into nothingness. That left the familiar stranger wearing diamond earrings and the tall sword with the long red handle.

I jumped down and landed on a glyph as I did. Then another, bouncing off them as I made my way to ground level.

The man turned and began to glow a faint deep blue. He drew a three-foot-and-change longsword. Blake jumped at him with her sword but he knocked her aside with blinding speed. Their weapons met with a resounding clang . His half cape fluttered and gave him an interesting silhouette as he moved and slammed Blake back with a single wide slash.

By his side jingled a blue and gold lamp on a chain.

She landed like a dancer on her feet with her weapon in one hand.

"Jaune!" Blake gasped from the ground.

Fact one: Cloud Strife was Jaune Arc.

Fact two: I wasn't sure Blake and I could take him.

He was glowing that blue with pale wisps of light surrounding him. It only meant one thing, he was Limit Broken.

"Blake!" I hauled her to her feet and looked down the street at Jaune. "Wait."

"What?"

"He has the relic of knowledge."

Blake's head whipped around to look at Jaune.

"He's..." Blake trailed.

"Jaune Arc is Cloud Strife," I muttered to her.

"Indeed," Jaune said. He was still holding his longsword with the long hilt. "Good to see you, Weiss." His tone was low and smouldering. Had he always sounded like that? Or had I missed his voice? "And Blake," he continued, "it's been a long time. When were you two reunited?"

"Just after you killed Ren and Nora," Blake growled.

"Ah…"

"That's all you have to say about it?! ‘Ah?!’" Blake demanded with heat.

Blake made to move forward but I held her back.

"Weiss we can take him!" She looked back at me.

"Wait! His Limit Break is active. He'll tear you apart. It's a trick! He's not vulnerable!"

Blake looked over, her amber eyes taking in the blue glow reflectively. "So what do we do?"

"I was never able to beat him," I confessed. "But you used to be able to time it out. Wait for the power to evaporate."

Jaune was looking away, giving us a sense of privacy as we talked. He kicked a rock down the street and leaned the sword against his shoulder. He looked comfortable. He even looked handsome with the piercings and his hair done up like that.

Damn him. The absolute son of a bitch.

"So what? We just keep him talking?"

"It's worth a shot. After the power fades he'll have to recharge it." I looked past her and called out. "Jaune, or do you prefer Cloud?"

"Weiss, either is fine." He nodded.

"You have the relic of knowledge."

"I do." He pulled it off the chain at his side and held it out. "I used one of the questions, it still has two left."

"What did you ask the lamp?" I asked.

"I asked it about mother."

"You asked it about your mom?" Blake sounded incredulous.

"Ah, I should explain. I meant Salem." He stepped closer to us. He still burned with the ethereal fire of his semblance. I took a wary step back and he froze . "Are you afraid of me, Weiss?"

"You call Salem mother?" I asked. I ignored his awful question poignantly.

"Only when I slip up." He gave a sigh.

"Salem's your mom? She gave birth to you?" Blake asked.

"For a certain definition of birth. I was born in a lab. A test tube and some of her cells created me."

"So that's why you became her agent," Blake confirmed. She was trying to puzzle it together.

"I didn't know about that until recently. Until after she made me kill my friends." He said. He still looked relaxed with the straight edge of Crocea Mors against his shoulder. His expression turned into a hard line.

"She made you?" I asked.

"Salem has dominion over my mind, she seized control over me and made me kill Ren and Nora."

"So Ozpin was right. You were a sleeper agent," I murmured.

"Of sorts," he agreed. "Of a very certain sort."

"You're buying this?" Blake asked.

"He has the relic," I pointed out.

"It could be a trap."

"The relics are the end goals, Blake. Why would Salem set a trap with them?"

She didn't have a good response to that and growled.

"What happened at Haven, Jaune?" I asked.

"I cornered Leonardo and Salem's Grimm killed him. From there she spoke to me," he grimaced but continued. "She spoke to me and I had to obey her orders. She made me kill Ren and Nora and leave with the relic. Eventually I broke free of her spell." His expression schooled itself back into a thin line again. "I couldn't return with what I'd done so I went to hunt down my father, who she mentioned. A scientist by the name of Merlot."

"And that's where you've been?"

"Yes." He gave me a charming smile. I had to admit he looked good. The sick bastard. I raised my weapon anyways. He lifted his hands in surrender. "I don't want to fight you."

"His semblance isn't disappearing." Blake whispered to me.

"I know," I muttered back. "Will you come with us?" I asked my voice louder.

"If I can remain armed, sure," Jaune agreed. "I refuse to be separated from my weapons."

"No chance," Blake said.

"Hmm, what if I give you the relic." He proffered it out with one hand and sheathed his weapon over his shoulder with the other.

"We have to take the deal." I told Blake. "Nothing is more important than the relic."

I could tell she didn't like it. She still saw Jaune as being like Adam. But if what he told us was true then he was a victim. Salem could control his thoughts. That didn't make him any less dangerous, though. It meant this whole thing could be a trap. I just couldn't see how. Or what Salem would gain by giving up a relic.

"Weiss get down!" Winter came striding over my head on a wave of glyphs and pierced right at Jaune's head with her scimitar.

She must have been listening to our mics the whole time.

Jaune leaned out of the way, grabbed Winter and kicked her twice in the chest in a sort of rolling motion with each leg. The strength of the blows made Winter's eyes widen and it left her in the air above Jaune. The last place you ever wanted to be.

Like lightning Jaune drew the white and bronze broadsword with one hand. He cast the blade upwards slashing her and kept her above him before he jumped and hit Winter in the gut with the long blade.

She tried to land but he hovered beneath her. He was ungodly fast. The only other people I'd met in his category for speed with his semblance active were Harriet and Ruby.

"Winter!" I called out.

He jumped and shattered a glyph my sister tried to stand on and he flicked her with his blade into the ground hard enough to tear the street up. He drifted slowly to the ground from there on a pocket of air.

"Winter don't! He's coming in peacefully!" I called out.

She whipped back to her feet and eyed Jaune. He offered her the long hilt of his nearly seven foot weapon. A calm and disarming smirk was on his face.

"He's not behaving peacefully."

"Neither are you," I pointed out. "Just take his weapon."

"He needs to be put in cuffs. He's a criminal."

"Why? He's got the relic of knowledge, he's not on their side."

Winter's eyes flicked down to his belt where the relic hung.

"Weiss… help me secure him."

"Winter!"

"That's an order!"

She rushed him before I could give her a warning. Jaune backed up hopping out of the way of her slashes before he brought his enormous weapon around. Then he started to meet Winter's slashes with equal speed despite the sheer size of his weapon and her small lithe ones.

Winter sliced high then she thrust middle and then she went for his head again. He blocked them all and at a range such that my sister never really got close to him.

He barked out a deep, part mad laugh.

He slashed forward at my sister forcing her to block the gigantic attack and then he kneed her in the face hard enough to smash her into a brick wall.

Blake rushed him before I could stop her. She tried to backflip over him and bring her ribbon down around him but he just flipped in place and slashed at her.

She disappeared with a clone, it exploded into fire which washed over him. He flinched back and flickered back a step. Blake kept up with him for a moment and vanished again in a clone when he cut at her. He read her and whipped around right in Blake's face and spent Limit on her in a rush.

Thud-thud. He hit her with two horizontal slashes. Dush-dush. He hit her with two diagonal cuts from opposite directions that left her spiraling in place. Thud-dush. He bit into her aura with a horizontal then a diagonal slash. Thud-thud. He swept vertically upwards then did a massive overhead strike downwards on her trapped form.

The expenditure turned almost violet by the end of the terrifying eight cut attack that intercepted her in mid-air.

Blake bounced off the ground and tried to rise but her aura crackled purple and she fell back to her knees. Just like that she was out of the fight.

Then Jaune just stood there flexing in the middle of the street.

I rushed him and he met me. He pressed down on me with his giant weapon. He held it diagonally downwards with the tip pointed at the ground and the great hilt up high, held in one hand. I could barely leverage Myrtenaster to keep him off of me. Compared to the broadsword Myrtenaster looked like a twig. Sparks flew as his weapon sang with energy.

"I won't hurt you," he whispered, his voice still smouldered. "Surrender to me."

I backed off a step and he let me. He pointed his weapon at me with one hand, the other hung loosely by his side.

My sister pulled herself free and her aura washed over her in a wave of white.

"Winter stop it! You can't beat him!"

She ignored me and thrust her saber into the ground. A Beowulf in all white and blue appeared and rushed Jaune. He hovered straight towards it and cut through it with two horizontal strikes. He was flying even without his Limit Breaker now?

Just how strong had he become?

My sister chased her summon with incredible speed but she couldn't close the gap on him. His blade swiped through the air as he met her strikes with confidence. It seemed to hum with barely constrained power.

He jumped and as he fell he forced the enormous weapon upwards by pushing up with one hand on the middle of the blade and the other on the too long handle. It caught my sister in the chest. Then he twirled through the air and did a vertical low to high strike which flung her back. He flickered forward and thrust his blade straight down like he was impaling her with a brutal spike.

He landed neatly and flexed in a position I knew meant he was charging his semblance.

He Cross Slashed her when she next tried to approach him. He just caught her with wide terrific swings of his sword. He twirled and the last blow flung her back with her aura swirling around her. Deep chunks had been taken out of it. There was a rush of air and his semblance was charged again. He was taking her apart. His semblance activated on the final attack. He was outputting enough damage that his comeback mechanic was just an ‘I win’ feature.

My sister tried to rise to her feet but he was on her in a blur that shoved her back to the ground. He leveraged his mighty weapon down on her and it was all she could do to maintain her kneeling position.

She popped the hidden blade out of her scimitar and tried to catch it with her left. Instead Jaune's hand blurred in between their guards, lightning fast, and caught the weapon. He stepped in and dragged her to her feet with the hidden stiletto forced against her neck.

Both of her hands came up to relieve the pressure against her throat as he held her above the ground. She kicked him in the chest hard but it was to no avail. He didn't even flinch at the blow. He wrestled her into the air, holding her by the blade against her throat and against his own titanic weapon.

"Jaune wait! You said you wanted to come in. Now's the time to prove it. Put her down," I begged him. I was all but certain I couldn't take him. He'd turned Blake aside easily and he'd hammered my sister without any trial.

He looked at me. Through swirls of light the same hue as his eyes. Then he tossed Winter to the side. Both of her weapons clattered to the asphalt.

Winter choked and tried to regain her breath.

Jaune stabbed his sword into the ground and held out his hands to be cuffed. "It's alright. I'll go in."

"Without your weapon?" Blake asked. She'd gotten back to her feet and she had her gun pointed at his head. Jaune didn't look intimidated by it in the slightest.

Jaune noticeably cringed at the thought of being weaponless but he said, "even so."

Winter slapped a pair of handcuffs on him and he visibly relaxed and let the blue aura around him fade. I wouldn't have been surprised if he could tear the handcuffs apart with an expenditure of his semblance. Winter ripped the relic of knowledge from his belt and secured it to her own side.

"Sorry Jaune," I said. I meant it, too.

"It'll be fine. I think I have friends on the inside."

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I was there when Jaune was searched. He was armed with dust crystals (red, yellow and purple), a pipe, a grinder, a scroll, and a little black book. They were all placed in a grey bin and put before the General who tried to stare Jaune down.

Jaune didn't look impressed.

The General looked through Jaune's things before he asked him any questions.

"I'm told you came in of your volition."

"That's right."

"Why now?"

"Maybe I need serious help? Maybe I'm losing my mind?"

"Can you tell me what happened at Haven Mr. Arc? Or do you prefer Strife?"

"You know me?" Jaune sounded surprised. "Either is fine. Mother, that is Salem, gave me orders through her Grimm, and I had to obey them. I killed Ren and Nora. She ordered me to bring her the relic but I soon broke her command over my mind."

"She can control your thoughts? Why?"

"I was created from her cells by Merlot, do you know of him?"

"I do," Ozpin murmured off to Ironwood's side. "He conducted experiments on the Grimm."

"That's right. After Haven I went and found the lab where he made me. That little black book is his notes on it. On me."

"And the relic of knowledge?" Ozpin asked.

"I kept it safe but didn't bring it to her."

"He was going to offer it to us," I cut in.

"Is this true, Ms. Belladonna?" Ozpin asked.

"It is. He didn't want to fight us. He wanted to be able to keep his weapon."

"Absolutely not." Ironwood leaned back. "By his own admission he's in league with the enemy."

"Really James? By my estimation he's a victim in all this. Any of Salem's other agents would have brought her the relic. Mr. Arc how are you feeling?"

"I'm alright at the moment. I hear her voice sometimes. It's a whisper. And ever since that day I see shadows and I have the feeling of bugs crawling around my skin."

"You need therapy," Ozpin said.

"There isn't a shrink qualified. There's a goddess in my head. That's what the marijuana is for." Jaune nodded at the pipe and grinder. I picked it up and sniffed it. I detected the earthly odor of marijuana coming off of it. "In fact I could really use a hit right about now," he said.

"Really Jaune? Marijuana?" I asked.

"It helps with my mother's voice. Salem's voice. I meant Salem. I hear her in my dreams."

"Well Mr. Arc, having the relic speaks well for you. I also take it you were the one who killed Tyrian. We found his body. His wounds may have been consistent with your weapon."

"Thank you. And yes I did." There was a note of pride in his voice. "I killed the motherfucker."

"And your story with Merlot is very concerning. Well what do you think James? The final say of what happens to him is in your hands."

Ironwood was quiet for a long time, he didn't like it. Jaune was dangerous. He was a liability. Further still he was a criminal. I held my breath.

"I'm confiscating your weapon. I'm keeping you imprisoned until such a time that you can see a psychiatrist and we can start you on some medication. It's in your best interest that you not resist. You should comply completely. I'm putting you down for PTSD with major psychotic features."

"Will I be able to see my friends?"

Ironwood nodded. "I'd also like a blood sample for my own labs."

"For Salem's genes. I understand. I'll play ball." Jaune agreed. "Think we can get these handcuffs off and that book back? It's a touch personal. It's literally all I have of my origins."

Ironwood nodded again and gestured to Winter. She released him and Jaune rubbed his wrists. Jaune paced forward and snatched up his black book and shoved it in a deep pocket. Other than that he tried nothing and I lunged forward and embraced him. I could have kissed him in that moment.

"It'll be okay Jaune," I whispered.

"We'll see," he murmured.

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I came to Ruby with the news in our room. "Ruby, we found Jaune!" She deserved to hear it from me and I wanted to be the one to share it with her. Lest she hear it from another source and get the facts wrong. I may have been in a bit of a rush to reach our Atlas Academy room with Blake in tow.

"What? Where?"

"Blake and I were on stakeout and he turned up. They're putting him in a psychiatric hospital. He's… he's pretty messed up."

"So is he… was he a traitor?"

"Kind of. According to him Salem made him do it. She was able to control his mind. She made him kill Ren and Nora."

Ruby looked like she had no idea how to feel. "Will we be able to see him?"

"General Ironwood said so but I don't know what it'll look like." I wasn't sure what the protocols were in place to see someone who was sick like Jaune was. He was also a criminal. So there was that to consider.

"Weiss this is the best news!" She hugged me and I held her back. "My Jaune is safe!" She kissed my cheek and I smiled. I knew that his whereabouts had been eating her up inside.

"Come on, Weiss," Blake said. "He outright told us Salem could control his mind. You think she's not doing it right now? Even if we believe him, which I'm not sure we should, it's still a pretty bleak scenario."

"He had the relic. And they said they'd find him medication," I argued.

"For mind control?" Blake asked. "Weiss please be reasonable. Don't get her hopes up. This isn't the kind of thing that gets better. This is permanent. Whatever's wrong with him is for keeps. And that's if we're taking him at his word."

"Medication?" Ruby wondered.

"He explained it like he had a bunch of psychotic phenomena from what Salem did to him. It sounded a lot like extreme PTSD." I explained to Ruby. "And why shouldn't I have hope for him. He made it this far without giving in."

Blake just shook her head.

"Wait hold on, take it from the top," Yang said. "Salem has control over his mind? Why? How?"

"He says he was created in a petri dish from her cells, someone named Merlot made him in a laboratory," Blake said. "That's why he's doomed. And that's if we believe him."

"I thought you of all people would judge someone by how they act, not where they came from," I snapped at Blake.

She snarled at me. "He killed Ren and Nora, that's how he acted. Am I the only one who is forgetting that? He confessed to their murder. Right in front of the two of us."

"Alright, that's enough you two," Yang shouted. "If you can't be civil, shut up! Now, if you can, go on. How was he, though?"

"He seemed sane enough." I shrugged. "He was level headed the entire time we were taking him into custody. He even surrendered himself."

"'Sane enough,' would you listen to how you sound?"

"Blake!" Yang shouted.

"Yang, Jaune is not okay. And he's much more powerful than any of you really let on. He basically one-shot my aura to zero and he was talking about hearing her voice all the time. He kept calling Salem ‘mother.’ He's a time bomb."

"But Jaune's family isn't like that. He talked about it a little," Ruby muttered. "Does he still have sisters or was that not real?" It was a good question. Jaune had a history of what he said at Beacon and to Ruby. What if it was accurate. Could all of that have been fake pressure from Salem?

"None of us know. He didn't talk about it," Blake answered.

"If he does then what does that mean?" Ruby asked. She shifted uncomfortably. "More Salem clones? Is that even the right word?"

"Jaune can't be a clone of her. He's a guy," Yang said.

I nodded. "Something else is going on. He had a little black book filled with Merlot's notes on his creation. Maybe Jaune knows more."

"And he was with Neapolitan. Cloud Strife is working with her. She nearly killed Yang!"

"He was what?" Yang asked. "Why?"

"We didn't get the chance to have an in depth chat with him. But he had the relic. He turned himself in to get help."

"All of this is good news," Ruby agreed. "Well not all of it, but a bit."

"You two would say that!" Blake accused. "You can't see what he is because the two of you are in love with him!" I glared at her. I would never bring up how her and Yang felt like it was an insult. I didn't deny it, though, it wouldn't do me any good. Instead I listened to her make her point. "I can't believe this! He's like a monster. He threw me and Weiss's older sister around like it was nothing. Did you not see him fling her? Did you watch him choking her out? Did you see him floating there? He could have destroyed her. He's unbelievably powerful and from what you guys tell me his power is about getting stronger. And no one knows what will set him off," Blake finished.

"So what should we do, Blake? Kill him?" I asked. I dropped the hammer on her. It seemed to be the end goal of what she was suggesting. I'd taken her insult on the nose and come out the other side clean. So what if I liked him. It didn't change the facts about it. Jaune was hurting.

Silence reigned. Blake looked away from me, her ears down.

"What if he is innocent? What if he is a victim? What then?" I demanded. I needed to know what she was intending. I was sure it was also on the General and Ozpin's mind.

"No one wants to kill Jaune, right?" Ruby asked. She sounded nervous.

"I swear the General thought about it. He wasn't really sure what to do. Ozpin wasn't either," I answered fast. Ruby needed to know the details. She deserved to know. Of everyone she was closest to Jaune.

"We can't let them do that," Ruby said, she sounded determined.

"What if it's the right call?" Yang asked. "What if Salem is in control."

"Then he wouldn't have brought us the relic. He would have brought it to her." I responded. "He also took responsibility for Tyrian."

"I suppose…" Yang trailed. She looked deep in thought. I wondered if I'd be able to convince her onto our side.

"Yang?" Ruby wondered.

"What? I have no idea what to think, but Blake is right. The two of you aren't exactly unbiased. None of you have gone toe to toe with him like I have, except maybe Weiss a little but he was winning those fairly confidently. He hits harder than our uncle does. Maybe he was hitting harder than I did, back then. Maybe I won by a nose hair and it was because just maybe he let it happen. And he was only getting stronger. According to him he killed Tyrian who was a menace and did you see him fight Cinder? He could have won that fight and she's a fucking maiden."

She was even two maidens now. As far as Cinder was concerned things weren't looking good.

"Salem and Ozpin have magic, that's where the maidens came from. Do you think he's got magic, too?" Ruby asked. "Do you think maybe that's why he's so strong?"

"Maybe. Probably." Yang answered. "He's really, really dangerous. And Blake's right we have no idea what will set him off."

"Thank you," Blake said.

"But," Yang drew out. "We can't kill an innocent man. He had the relic that means he can at least resist Salem, right? It's not a free win for her?"

"He didn't say how he broke her spell. Just that he did." I returned. "He's being evaluated by a psychiatrist as we speak."

"He's mad. Did you listen to his symptoms? Salem is driving him mad," Blake said. "He's not even safe in his dreams."

Blake had a point. Salem was driving him crazy. It sounded very unpleasant, what all he was going through. But he'd made it this far so I still had hope for him yet. He was able to resist her. He was strong enough to overcome whatever Salem was doing to him, then. I had to believe that. I wanted to believe that. Was it so wrong to believe that?

"Then we'll just have to keep him safe in his real life, right?" Ruby asked. No one truly had an answer for her.

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-WG

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 4 years ago

Text

The Jilted Tourist - 1

A/N: Hi friends! Just sneaking in here at an ungodly hour to drop off this first part of the first one of the title game winners! This one kicks off a three part prequel to everything that has happened for Benjamin and the It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like... and Too Good To Be True Reader, and it takes a look at what is essentially the beginning of the end for Benj and Julia. Benjamin’s just gotten some bad news and decides to get a drink to take the edge off. But his plans change when he bumps into someone who’s had an equally bad day, and one drink turns into a few more.

Word Count: 4,187

Warnings: drinking, swearing, pub stuff.

Benjamin silenced his phone and sighed as its weight slid down into the bottom of his coat pocket. I know I shouldn’t be surprised… He used that hand to remove the glasses from the top of his head. Pinching one arm between his thumb and forefinger, he swung them down to comb the rest of his fingers through his hair. I guess… With a shove, he returned his glasses to his face, pushing them up the bridge of his nose as it wrinkled with a sniff. I guess I’m not.

Heading towards the staircase, he tossed the small bouquet he was holding into a trash bin. Stupid. Though the weekend had been planned as a celebration of Benjamin finishing his first year of graduate school, he’d wanted to give her something as a way to thank her for her support, to show her that he cared, that he he was always thinking of her, even when his nose was in a book or he spent an entire evening writing a paper. As a way to show you that you were wrong. Recently, Julia had told him that he only ever gave her flowers when he was apologizing for something. But I’m sure this will turn into something I’ll have to apologize for. Maybe this time I’ll skip the flowers.

He winced as he reached for the handrail and started climbing the stairs, immediately feeling guilty for being spiteful. That’s not helpful. If he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t sure that flowers, no matter what the occasion, were helpful either. Though the last few weeks had been good ones, he and Julia spending a decent amount of time together on days when he didn’t have classes or study sessions, it gnawed at Benjamin that he had to mark time between arguments in such short increments. Maybe she feels like I only bring her flowers when she’s upset with me but… He reached the top of the staircase and suddenly the idea of going back to an empty hotel room felt like the last thing he wanted to do. Maybe it’s because she’s always upset with me.

A loud, raucous cheer went up then as he followed the foot traffic at the top of the stairs, passing a crowded sports bar packed with patrons wearing kits and scarves supporting Brentford. The team had been making a run at the Premier League, and suddenly everyone had been swept up in their underdog story, following along and becoming inadvertent fans. Not where I want to be right now. He continued on, passing small shops and cafes until he found another pub, this one much quieter and less crowded. There, that looks more my speed, just want to get a pint and-

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a couple reuniting on the platform below, arms flying around one another. They look happy. He felt a half-hearted smile lift one cheek, but it fell as he found himself thinking that the likelihood of Julia greeting him with that much enthusiasm when she arrived in London tomorrow was slim. If she arrives tomorrow. He shook his head and turned away from the platform and back to the smaller, less populated bar. I need to get that pint.

Stepping out of the bright light of Waterloo’s main terminal and through the arched doorway of the small, dimly lit pub, he blinked a few times to adjust to the lighting. It’s just one night that she’ll miss, we have the room all weekend. I shouldn’t let it… With another hefty sigh, he unbuttoned his coat. He didn’t want to be upset that his wife had stood him up on the first night of their getaway. He wanted to believe that there was still some way to salvage the trip. She knows how important working towards this degree is to me, maybe tomorrow she’ll… But he was tired of breathing life into his hopes only to have them slashed and soured. We’ll see about tomorrow tomorrow. Glancing at the few people gathered around the bar rail, he chose to avoid the cluster of chatty looking middle aged men, instead finding a spot near a young woman sitting alone with her phone in one hand, the other wrapped around a nearly empty pint glass. She seemed the lesser of the two evils, and since Julia wasn’t there to create her own version of why he chose to sit where he did, he pulled out a stool that was two down from where she sat.

The bartender shuffled over and raised an eyebrow, reaching for a mug from the shelf below the bar counter. “The Tyne Bank, please.” Benjamin indicated the tap handle of the beer he ordered as he sank into his chair. “Thanks mate,” he sighed as the drink appeared in front of him, pulling out his wallet to hand over his card. “Open a tab, would you?” Wordlessly, the balding, apathetic man took it and nodded, already turning away in the direction of the post he’d been leaning on prior to pouring Benjamin’s drink. Don’t know how long I’ll stay but… He pushed two fingers up under the left lens of his glasses, pressing them into his closed eyelid before rubbing them down and out from underneath. Damn it, Julia, this was-

“Opening a tab at a commuter bar, huh?” He looked immediately in the direction of the woman two stools down, her slightly slurred accent hitting his ear. American. Her eyes were glued to the rim of her glass, watching her own pointer finger trace around the edge to create a high-pitched squeaking sound. “You must be having a day.” You could say that. She looked up, pulling her fingers from the glass so that she could wrap them around it to drain the contents. She was younger than he first thought, no more than 24 or 25 if he had to guess. She’s Leo’s age.

He noticed that her eyes looked red and puffy when she swung them over to him, and not just from the alcohol. She’s been crying. He picked up his glass and nodded. “Suppose I have been.” Bringing his glass the rest of the way to his lips, he took a sip and let the coppery colored ale coat his tongue before swallowing it down.

“Well then, you sir, have chosen the right seat because this end of the bar-” she flipped her hair over her shoulder in a dramatic fashion, like a matador might flourish their cape, and used the same finger she’d been tracing around her glass to point down at the wooden bartop. “Is for tying one on.” Lifting her hand from where she’d just pointed, she waved the bartender down to order another drink, the man huffing audibly at the fact that he had to move again.

Benjamin set his glass down and cocked his head to the side as the bartender grumbled under his breath, something along the lines of ‘she couldn’tve ordered when this bloke did, of course she couldn’t.’ The young woman either didn’t hear him, or didn’t care, and Benjamin had a sneaking suspicion that it was the latter. Once he’d slid the woman her beverage, the bartender looked pointedly at Benjamin, even though he’d only taken one sip that hardly even cracked the foam. “I’m fine,” he assured the man, who was only getting less hospitable by the moment, before turning to face her. “Not trying to get too tanked up here, just,” he sighed as she picked up her glass, pausing before bringing it to her lips. Just what? What are you doing, Benjamin? And why are you talking to a stranger about it? He shook his head. “Just wanted to take the edge off.”

“Well, that makes one of us.” She held her glass out and it took Benjamin a few seconds to realize that she was waiting for him to clink his against it. He blinked a few times before picking up his pint glass and tapping it to hers. “To me getting tanked up, and to you...well, not.” She blew out a breath in a sarcastic laugh, shaking her head.

That was a terrible toast. His mind flashed back to the one he’d delivered at his and Julia’s wedding- how hard he’d worked on it, how he’d practiced in the mirror for days before rehearsing it the morning off, how he felt invincibly bolstered by the love that he had for the woman he was pouring his heart out to. Good toasts don’t guarantee anything though.

“Cheers,” he responded as she took a large swig, her left hand combing her hair back out of her face as she drank. A falsely hearty sounding round of laughter rose from the opposite end of the long, straight rail, and even though it didn’t seem as though he would be granted the quiet drink he wanted, he was glad he had stayed away from whatever that was. “So,” he set his glass back down as he cleared his throat. “You had a-”

Her phone started vibrating on the bartop next to her glass, and Benjamin couldn’t help but notice the contact photo when the screen lit up. “Shit.” She picked it up and fumbled with the buttons on the side, her fingers not completely in compliance with the task at hand. “Fuck you, Eddie,” she mumbled as it buzzed again in her palm before she slid the bar across the bottom of the screen to shut it down.

Benjamin returned his eyes to his drink, trying to pretend that he hadn’t just seen a photo of the woman next to him laying a fat kiss to a smiling young man’s cheek and the name Edmund accompanied by a string of heart shaped emojis flash on her phone before she struggled to turn it off. I’ve got enough on my own plate to figure out, I should just finish this drink and head back to the ho-

“Damn it, sorry that was…” She reached behind her for the purse that was hanging on the back of her stool, grabbing the strap to pull it into her lap before jamming her phone into it. “Just my-”

Benjamin leaned over the empty seat next to him. “It’s fine, you don’t have to-”

She let go of her purse and slid from her stool onto the one next to it, leaving only one between them now. Oh, no, that’s… Benjamin straightened back up and seized his glass, but she didn’t come any closer, only reaching for her own glass to scoot it over in front of her new position. “No, I meant to turn the damn thing off anyway because I do not want to hear from him tonight...or…” she groaned into her pint. “Ever.” The last word echoed against the glass before she cut herself off by filling her mouth with liquid.

So I guess I’m not the only one having trouble in paradise tonight. He frowned, looking down at his left hand and the wedding band he’d been so eager to earn. I love her, I know I do, but she… He closed his eyes and took a drink, swallowing slowly. Does she? Benjamin curled his hand into a fist, until his knuckles blocked his ring from view. Stop. Don’t...not here. He flattened his palm back, eyes still on the gold band around his third finger. Not now.

“Oh, hey, you don’t have to worry about-” Huh? The woman laughed under her breath as she angled herself away from him. He looked up to see her motioning towards his flattened hand. “I saw you looking at your ring. You’re married.” She used one hand like a blade to cut a straight horizontal line through the air. “I get it, and anyway I’m not…” Her head shook from side to side, face tilting downwards as she picked up her glass again. She wasn’t kidding about...what did she say? Tying one on? “I’m not trying to flirt with you or anything I just-” Another little snort of laughter interrupted her sentence and she used the pause to take a drink. “Literally, just, broke up with one of you English assholes and I’m-” Benjamin raised one eyebrow, adjusting his glasses with a shove to the rim. “Shit, I don’t mean you’re an...ugh.”

The laugh was out of his mouth before he had time to question where it came from. It was small, not enough to lift him out of what he was feeling, but it wasn’t forced. “You never know, I might be one.” She picked her head up and gave him a gracious smile. “And anyway, on behalf of all of us,” he gestured around the bar with his glass. “I’m sorry that things didn’t work out with your boyfriend.”

Sighing, she let her shoulders drop as she sunk back into her stool. “Yeah, thanks.” Tilting her glass around, she swirled the half-empty contents, watching the foam cling to the sides and then run down them. “I’m sorry you’re having a shit day too.”

“Yeah,” Benjamin looked down his nose into his glass. It didn’t start out terribly, it was actually… He blinked and downed the rest of his glass. “Thanks.” I should go.

“I’m Jocelyn, by the way. Joss, really.” She spread her fingers to push her hair back before twisting to retrieve her purse again. Digging through, she pulled out a business card and handed it over. “Figure I should introduce myself, if we’re going to sit here drinking our woes away together.”

Looking down at the square shaped card he read the purple print. Jocelyn Hall, Copyeditor, R.J. Tully & Associates. Huh, what are the odds? He set her card down and reached for his wallet, pulling out one of his own. “I started out as an editor, too. I’m only part-time because I’m back in school, but they have me writing copy now. Big move.” He rolled his eyes and handed over his own card. “I’m Benjamin.” Jocelyn read his card over before flicking it against her thumb. “It’s nice to meet you, Joss, though I wish it were under better circumstances for… well for either of us.”

She laughed, turning to stuff his card in her purse before letting it swing back around the stool again. “It’s nice to meet you too, Benjamin.” When she turned back to him again, her eyes, though still puffy, looked less sad. Good. “But you know who’s having a worse night than either of us?” Well, we both had to turn off our phones because we’re avoiding people, so… She jerked her head in the direction of the bartender. “This guy really hates his job.”

With that she stood on the rung below her stool and waved the bartender over. His humph and trudge illustrated what she’d just said, and Benjamin felt a small smile form. Joss swallowed what was left of her drink before the man had finished his long and arduous journey down to their end of the bar, then pointed at Benjamin’s empty glass. “Can I buy you another beer and tell you about my shitty day, Benjamin? Or you can tell me about yours, or,” she blew out a breath. “Or fuck, we can talk about copywriting if you really want, it’s just that I’m not…” She was speaking more quickly, her words tumbling out as the bartender finally reached them. “Not ready to go back to an empty hotel room just yet and-”

“You want somethin’ girlie?” The man’s gruff voice cut her off as he leaned over the bar, his knobby knuckles gripping the curved edge.

Benjamin’s palms were sweating and a warning jolt went through his stomach. What would Julia have to say about me accepting this drink? It was a rhetorical question to himself, and even though Jocelyn had made it clear that she wasn’t interested in him- and I’m not… I love my wife, I’m not interested in this woman- he knew that if Julia were there she’d be plenty busy making up her own version of things. But she’s not here. She chose not to be. He noticed Jocelyn’s face falling as she nodded, reaching again for her purse, and he narrowed his eyes. Piss it. “Yeah, set us up again would you, mate? On my tab.”

Jocelyn smiled, letting go of her purse strap again, letting the small bag swing. “That was supposed to be on me.” I know. She leaned her elbow on the bar, setting her chin in her hand. “Thank you,” she said it as the bartender set her drink in front of her, though her eyes were on Benjamin. “For sticking around I mean, I just…” The gruff, wrinkled man passed Benjamin his ale before responding to the waves and calls of the men at the other end of the bar, grumbling as he headed in their direction. “I…” She pressed her lips together, running her fingers up and down the outside of her glass.

“Hey,” Benjamin lifted his glass. I get it. “My most thrilling copywriting story is about the time I had to write nine thousand words on mattresses in twenty four hours,” Jocelyn blew air through her nostrils in a laugh as Benjamin took a drink. “But if you want I can try to remember which ones were rated best.” But that’s not what she wants to talk about, is it? “Unless you just want to...talk about your day.”

She hummed, picking up her glass to take a sip. “I don’t want to,” she sighed and settled against the backrest of her stool, drawing one foot up to the seat so her shin was pressed to the edge of the bar rail. “But, I have been sitting here drinking for hours, and I have yet to say the words out loud.” Looking down into her drink, she took a breath before bringing her glass to her lips for another long swallow. “So,” she placed her glass back on the bartop and spread her arms wide, fingertips nearly brushing Benjamin’s shoulder. “Here goes. Today, I, Jocelyn Hall, boarded a plane in Washington D.C. and crossed the fucking Atlantic Ocean to visit my boyfriend in London, only to find him fucking some other woman.” Benjamin winced, sucking air through his teeth. That’s awful. Jocelyn took another big swig, clearing nearly half of her glass before Benjamin had had his second sip. “And you, Benjamin,” she pointed at him, finger swaying, “are the first person I’ve told.

Damn. He recalled the way it had felt when Allie had delivered the double blow to his heart that not only did she not want to marry him, but that she’d fallen in love with someone else. That betrayal was unlike anything he’d ever felt prior, and he handled it about as well as Jocelyn was handling things. “That’s terrible, what a prick.”

“You know, I never thought he was a prick.” Of course you didn’t, that’s why you were with him. “I thought he was,” she rolled her eyes and groaned at herself, one hand going to her head. “I thought Eddie was perfect.” She scoffed. “Stupid.”

Benjamin shook his head. “It isn’t stupid to want to see the good in people.” He raised his eyebrows and brought his glass to his mouth. “Especially the person you’re with.” He let another mouthful of ale slide down his throat. Julia has so much good in her. I saw it right away, but now its… He sighed.

“All my friends told me this would happen,” she reasoned, wrapping both hands around the base of her glass, condensation dripping over her knuckles. “They all warned me, when Eddie and I met, and,” she tilted her head, eyes widening. “They were right.”

“They couldn’t have known- you, you couldn’t have known when you met him that things would turn out this way though.” He tried to console her with the fact that there was no real way to prepare for the unknown; that Jocelyn or her friends couldn’t have possibly foreseen that Eddie would cheat on her. That I couldn’t see that Julia would push me aside. He shook his head and rubbed on hand over the top of his hair. Change the subject. “How did, um… how did you two mee then?” Shit, she might not want to- “I mean, only if you want to tell me, it’s-”

“We met while we were both spending a semester abroad in Florence.” Another eye roll. “We both accidentally signed up for a class that we thought was Italian, but it was actually Italian Literature, taught entirely in a language that neither of us spoke and,” she gestured with one hand while the other held her glass. “Well, we were able to transfer out of it, but we hit it off and started spending time together. A lot of time, all our time. Looking back on it now I...well,” she tapped the nail of her pointer finger on her glass. “It happened too fast, got... “ she made a sudden swiping motion. “Swept up in it I guess.”

Yeah, that tends to happen. He knew how easy it was to let the current carry you away once those first few feelings started swirling, especially when the circumstances were right. “Still, that doesn’t mean that you should have been able to predict that…”

“Our entire relationship was like a vacation, Benjamin, that should have been a clue. I mean,” she sniffed. “Weekend getaways in Vienna and Barcelona. Going here, seeing this, doing that.” She ticked her words off on her fingers. “Before the semester was even up we were already making plans to visit one another at home. He came over to the U.S. and stayed with me for ten days and it was great. It was a great ten days, but again, it wasn’t real life.”

Like Julia and I. The thought made his mouth go dry but the beer he tried to drink only caused him to choke, coughing and covering his mouth with his hand. In the beginning of their relationship they’d holed themselves up in hotel rooms, ordering room service and visiting tourist sights. It was so easy.

“But the crown jewel in this story,” Jocelyn smacked her palm down on the bartop causing Benjamin to snap his attention back to her. “Was me deciding to surprise Eddie by getting here three days earlier than we’d planned, and him deciding to surprise me by banging some redhead.” He frowned. Why do people cheat? I’ll never understand it. She sniffed again. “So, surprise. My friends were right, and I’m an idiot.” Her eyes were starting to shine again, and she snorted into her glass. “A drunk idiot.”

“You’re not.” She looked at him incredulously. “An idiot, I mean.” You’re definitely drunk. He put his glass down and leaned his forearms on the bar. “You dove in, really gave it a go. Now this Eddie? He sounds like an idiot if you ask me.” He licked his lips and scrubbed one hand over his beard. “It’s not stupid to trust people or to...to fall for someone.” Am I trying to make her feel better or myself? He sighed. “It’s shitty. It’s a shitty thing that he did to you and I’m…” I’m an expert at shitty things happening so I know what I’m talking about. “I’m sorry that it happened to you.”

Joss smiled sadly, but nodded and wiped her knuckle under her eye. “Thanks, Benjamin, that’s…” She let out a breath. “I appreciate you listening to me and trying to...just, thank you. It felt good to get that all off my chest I guess.” I’m sure. Since he married Julia he had been spending less and less time with friends like Bianca and Zach, and the few classmates he’d spoke with over the last year were no substitute, so he’d had no one to really talk to about the perceived problems in his marriage. He was glad that he was able to be a set of ears for Jocelyn to vent to.

“You know, I am about as far away from sage council as you could probably get, but if it’ll make you feel better to talk about your shitty day, we can put the next round on my tab.” A few more patrons had shuffled in since he’d sat down that Benjamin hadn’t noticed until he’d looked up at Joss’ alcohol and emotion flushed face. I shouldn’t… But why shouldn’t I? He asked himself the question almost immediately, knowing fully that his only intention in talking to Jocelyn was conversation and possibly some mutual empathy, nothing more.

He finished the rest of his drink and stood from his stool. “Alright,” he agreed. “But I’m going to step out for a smoke.” Joss made a scrunched face and he chuckled. “I know, bad habit, I’m trying to quit. But… yeah. Grab another round. I’ll be right back.”

“Great,” she stood to flag down the bartender. “Misery loves company.”

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @malionnes @suchatinyinfinity @gollyderek @thesumofmychoices @becs-bunker @warriorqueenofnarnia @elanor-of-imladris @traeumerinwitzhelden @obscurilicious @octosapiens @luminex3 @songtoyou @with1love1anu @dearmarii @pheedraws @valkblue @alraedesigns @fific7

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#the jilted tourist #benjamin greene #benjamin greene gold digger #benjamin greene x julia day #ew gross i gagged typing that last tag #benj meets joss #tgtbt benjamin #benjamin greene fanfic #title game #400 foreal?!

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cupofteaguk · 5 years ago

Text

what you want

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

genre: post breakup au | fluff

warnings: depictions of alcohol consumption

word count: 5k

a/n: taken from “things you said while we were driving” on my old blog

In a way, Jungkook knows you’re on the other side of the line even before he answers the phone. One could argue that it’s because he remembers your strange and cute and endearing habit of always calling him at ungodly hours of the evening for absolutely no reason at all, or how its been a few months since things ended between the two of you and he still jumps at the notification of text messages and still catches glimpses of you on the street.

While all those things are true, he probably knows it’s you because he has yet to change the ringtone on his phone that corresponds to your calls. That way, his action of leaping off the couch and making a dive for his phone is slightly more justified as he slides the answer button and presses the device to his ear. “Hello?” He exclaims breathlessly, cursing himself out just a moment later because he didn’t even think to cover up the eager quality in his tone and probably sounds like he had been waiting around for your call—which he has but you didn’t need to know that.

“Hey! Jungkook!” You exclaim from the other end, a concerning amount of time between his question and your response that he can already feel his eyes narrowing and can already feel a little voice in the back of his head telling him that it doesn’t matter how he reacts to your call.

You’re likely way too drunk at this point to notice.

Jungkook furrows his eyebrows, bringing a finger up to tap at the crease as not just a means to calm himself but also a means to give himself a better handle on the situation. You were never the heavy drinker, especially when the pair of you were dating, so he doesn’t have any sort of default speech or words of caution to throw at you during this kind of specific predicament. From that, the only thing he can properly manage to say back to you is: “Are you drunk?”

A pause. “No of course not!” You shout back over the line and Jungkook sighs because the pieces are just beginning to connect in his mind. You only ever shouted when you were drunk, when your mind and vocal chords couldn’t process the depth or volume of your tone. “Why would I do that?!”

“Y/N, you’re shouting,” He points out, looking down and despite everything, despite the fact that he should really be pissed at you for disrupting his evening, despite the fact that your wellbeing shouldn’t be a priority in his life anymore—he can’t help but allow the corner of his lips to quirk up in the smallest smile. A smile of relief that you’re here and well and talking, a smile of relief that stops the flood of questions from escaping his lips.

Another pause, and he imagines you tilting your head to the side, imagines the drunk gears turning like a wheel over and over again in your mind as you comprehend his words and attempt to adjust your own lifestyle accordingly. “I am?” You return, but your voice has lowered significantly from grand yelling to soft whispering.

Jungkook can’t help it. A noise of laughter escapes from the back of his throat. “You’re insane,” He speaks without an ounce of remorse in his tone as he straightens up and off the floor, continuing to unconsciously cradle the phone against his ear, pressing it closer as if pulled by a desire to hear every curve of your voice. “Though I didn’t know you were the type to drunk dial…”

“M’not drunk dialing,” You point out, your voice still retaining that hushed quality but there’s something different about it, something sensual and vulnerable and it only captures Jungkook’s attention more. “Jungkook, I need you.”

The statement forces Jungkook into an immediate frenzy as he allows himself one second of completely disregard for the situation, for the fact that you were drunk and likely just spewing nonsense, the fact that the pair of you weren’t dating anymore, the fact that it has been months since your last conversation—all thoughts seems to fling itself out of the window. This leaves Jungkook alone in the living room, choking on his words. He swallows thickly because drunk words were sober thoughts, were they not? “Y-You need me,” He repeats back slowly.

You whine at that, a vulnerable noise Jungkook hasn’t heard in so long that it makes his heart tighten slightly in his chest. It’s not a reaction that comes out of need or physical desire, but more so as a deep unconditional sort of longing. He misses you, misses you definitely a lot more than he should be missing an ex-partner but he can’t help it.

“I need you for a ride,” You reply back, the addition of those last three words to that sentence doing little to diminish Jungkook’s attention on your voice. It doesn’t matter that you seem to have only called him for your own personal reason. “Karly dragged’m to this party and I don’t trust anyone else to pick me up.”

“So you need me… to pick you up from a party?” Jungkook echoes, gradually lowering himself onto the couch. He doesn’t know the protocol of open lines of communication between someone who use to (and still does, but people didn’t need to know that) mean the world to him. He doesn’t know if he should be more watchful, more careful, more aware of its hidden implications or if he should take situations like these with a grain of salt.

His genuine cluelessness about relationship norms has come to bite him back in the ass, yet he’s not too sure if it’s a bad thing or a good thing.

However, his restating of your request seems to click something in your mind because you let out a groan. “Oh god,” You say, letting out a big sigh. “I can’t ask you to pick me up.” It’s hard to tell if you’re talking to Jungkook or convincing yourself otherwise.

So Jungkook just leans against the couch, continuing to press the phone against his ear, closing his eyes just enough to the sound of you breathing lightly on the other side because holy shit it feels like lifetimes. “Well, why not?” He asks, lowering his gaze to stare down at his leg, the texture of his jeans. His finger comes out to trace at the denim mindlessly, desperate to keep you on the phone partially because he’s long since forgotten the lapsed sound of your breathing but also because that part of himself that’s always been protective over you longs to ensure your safety.

“You must be busy, right?” You grumble, voice slightly muffled and he imagines you leaning heavily against a wall to maintain your balance. “I don’t want to bother you… I just need to figure out how to get home.”

“N-No, it’s okay,” Jungkook reassures, pushing himself off the couch and already starting to rummage around for the important belongings such as his wallet and his keys. “Do you think you could drop a pin for me? I need to know where you are so I can come get you.”

You hum. “R-Really?” You manage. “You would do that?”

He swallows down the part of himself that almost admits he would do anything for you, not because he fears you retaining that statement but because he knows that speaking the words out loud would mean facing the truth he’s spent months trying to bury away.

So he reaches over to lightly scratch the back of his neck. “Yeah, I mean…” He starts, biting his lip, trying to find the right words that don’t give away too much of his feelings yet can still convey his desire to look after you. “I still care about you.”

He closes his eyes after the words escape, a wave of curses and frenzy and something akin to smashed keyboard lettering piling up in his mind. Fuck, fuck, that was definitely not what he was trying to go for.

Yet on the other side of the phone, you laugh softly and quietly and it sounds more tired than anything else which only gives Jungkook a greater incentive to go out and find you. “You’re too good for me Jungkook. I don’t know how I can return the favor.”

He feels himself practically melting at your words, at your ability to say the right thing without even having to try and it makes him wonder. His mind wanders to where it all went wrong, what happened between the two of you, why he’s here on the other side of the phone line in an apartment that feels much too empty and lonely rather than at that party with you and hearing your voice directly in his ear and not through some hazy reception. Or even better, just spending the time alone within each other’s company—playing video games or watching movies or cooking meals or just anything in general that involved being within each other’s company. Those things, once so common and mundane to the average day-by-day playback of his life, have quickly become his favorite things to reflect upon in his spare time. At least, until the realization of his lingering feelings for you and the fact that a breakup didn’t equate to breaking apart the remnants of his emotional connection.

He simply smiles. “Text me where you are. At least drop a pin.”

“Okay,” You manage and he can practically hear you nodding your head furiously to showcase the depth of how hard you were going to work to ensure that would happen. “I will. I really will.”

The pair of you hang up shortly after, and Jungkook finds himself letting out a breath. He hadn’t realized how nervous he would be at getting to converse with you after so many long months of silence; just a proof of testament to how you still had the full capability of continuously inching yourself underneath his skin.

His phone buzzes, capturing his attention as he reaches the device to his line of sight and sees the text message from you.

from you: [PINNED LOCATION]

from you: did tiowork

from you: jgnkook plaes tell me oyou got htaht

from Jungkook: I got it, just stay where you are okay?

from you: holy sih t did i use tehncaoloy coreectly im ga fucking genius

from you: jungkok guhryy up im tured i mgith

from you: fall sasleep

from Jungkook: DON’T

from you: jungkook ure too godoo for me

from you: what did ideo to derserve you

He pockets his phone after that, because although your messages are more than enough to send him into another burst of uncontrollable emotions, he knows immediately that his absolute first priority is to get to the party before you dropped your guard even more. He can’t even begin to imagine what would happen—his thoughts getting the best of him given that Jungkook doesn’t trust a little more than half of the overall human population and those fragments of alternative realities is what forces his feet to slam on the gas pedal and his eyes to frantically scan back and forth on the street to ensure that he would most definitely not miss the house.

He doesn’t. He gets the house right, and luckily doesn’t need to be double checking his work because not only are there long rows of cars parked along the sidewalk, but also a handful of people are littered outside along the porch. Given the quiet neighbor, their hushed voices make sense, but they’re all holding bottles and cups that leaves little to the imagination. Jungkook parks, steps out of his car, shuffles towards the house and his approaching figure is barely spared a glance as he makes his way up the steps and into the house.

Inside, the conversations are a little louder, a little more rowdy—the laughter is freer, a mixture of different voices are heard ringing down the hallway and the rooms that individuals have gathered in. But none of those things matter to Jungkook. He doesn’t care about the prospect of drinking with strangers, the typically alluring temptation of free alcohol. The only thing he cares about it—!

“Jungkook?” A voice sounds from one of the couches in the empty living room, the familiarity of the tone forcing him to stop completely in his tracks as he whirls around towards the source of the noise. His heart does that painful stuttering thing it always does when he sees you and he can practically feel the desperation and overwhelming swell of emotions erupting throughout his body—like that time you stepped out his bathroom for the first time in his clothes or the first time he woke up next you and saw the golden rays of morning light hitting all the curves and angles of your face. Or one instance post-coitus tangled with one another atop the mattress, deep breath matched into the evening, his fingers and eyes developing an intense fixation on your lips; that was the moment he realized he was in love with you.

And now those emotions seem to be hitting him like a wave the longer he stands there staring at you, taking you in because even though you are curled up on the couch half asleep, you’ve never looked more beautiful and months apart definitely does not change that.

“H-Hey,” Jungkook manages, taking the few steps towards you, quickening his pace slightly when he notices you struggling to sit yourself up on the couch. “Wait, don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself,” He instructs lightly, kneeling before you yet you still attempt to pull yourself up. You are somehow able to get your arm underneath yourself, using your strength to push your body. Your head almost falls to the side but Jungkook starts forward to hold the side.

Your eyes slowly find his, flickering upwards until they land upon his face and the corner of your lips quirk up in a tired yet gorgeous smile. “Hi Jungkook,” You whisper, your voice that low huskiness that always takes form when you’ve drank too much and yelled too much. He remembers bits and pieces of your drunken facade and knows this particular one to be your tired and exhausted shell. “It’s been awhile.”

You sound significantly less drunk than you had been over the phone, which he takes to be a good sign and that you’ve spent the few minutes it has taken Jungkook to drive from his house to this to sober up and start the process of trying to make yourself as well as you possibly could be in this state.

“I know,” He returns back.

You laugh, a mere exhale through your nose, eyes drifting close for a second before they open again. “This is’not how I wanted you to see me after all this time.”

He smiles softly. “Pretty sure I’ve seen you through worse.” And it’s true. He definitely has. “C’mon, my car is right outside.”

For a second, Jungkook is not entirely sure what to do with his hands. Under normal circumstances he would have no doubts about gathering you in his arms and leading you to his car himself, but these are not normal circumstances so he just settles with bringing a hand down to the curve of your waist.

“Can you stand up for me?”

Keeping both hands on his shoulders, it helps propel you upwards and although you aren’t completely uncoordinated, you still cling to him and Jungkook allows you to lean on him heavily as he holds you close in order to guide you out of the house and down the lawn.

You hum quietly under your breath, eyes fixated downwards to watch your footing. “Do you remember…” You start slowly, the exhaustion from the alcohol starts to eat away at your system. “Do you remember my house… like, where it is?”

“Yeah, yeah I remember where it is,” He answers, slowly open the passenger door and leaning over to help you sit down. You practically slump against on the seat, providing the further fluidity of your bones and muscles, still doing enough in dragging out the sheepish laugh from Jungkook. As if by instinct, he reaches over to tug the seat belt over your frame, crossing over your body to lock the buckle in place. This forces himself closer to you, forces him within such a close proximity to your frame that he can smell the lingering after effects of alcohol fill up his nose. But underneath that, he can still smell your perfume and the lavender scent of your shampoo. He clears his throat. “Uh, you good?”

You nod slowly, gaze unwavering from his face as he pulls away far enough to meet your eyes. You are unwavering, orbs flickering back and forth with a scary intensity that he momentarily questions the level of intoxication you are under. The only way he can know for sure is through the glassy complexion of your eyes.

“What?” He speaks, feeling too self-conscious to ignore the look across your features.

You inhale slowly. “You smell the same.” There is a sense of longing in your voice that Jungkook is almost sure is just the alcohol talking.

Almost.

He takes in a breath. “Y/N, you’re drunk,” He says, not sure if he’s trying to convince himself or you more. “Just try to get some rest, okay?” You look like you’re about to open your mouth to further explain your situation—because a tired you equates to a rambling you—but he pulls back and slams the car door shut without a word.

Not for long though, because he reappears on the driver’s side, sliding into place and sliding the key into the ignition to start the car up.

“Being drunk has nothing to do with how you smell the same,” You note quietly, shifting to stare longingly out of the window.

“Being drunk means everything,” He returns, making sure to keep his grip tight on the steering wheel keep himself focused on the road rather than you. “It means you’ll say something you’ll probably regret in the morning.”

“I highly doubt that,” You say, but he doesn’t believe you. Even when you readjust yourself once more to stare at his side profile. “Jungkook, I missed you,” You start. “So, so, so much.”

Despite his increasing heart rate, he manages a weak laugh. “You’re just saying that because I’m picking you up from a party.”

“No, no, no,” You protest, shaking your head. “Not true. I mean it. I missed you so much.”

That statement forces his mind into a complete 180 rotation as Jungkook is so startled at your confession that his foot accidentally slams down on the gas, forcing the pair of you to dart forward at such a speed that both heads slam against the back of the seats. Jungkook curses loudly, managing a right turn just before the overhead light turns red.

Jungkook’s breathing picks up as he tightens his grip on on the wheel. “Fucking hell—Y/N don’t say things like that!”

“Why not?” You protest, leaning back against the headrest of the seat. Your eyes slide shut and stay closed for a few seconds. “It’s true…” You let out a gentle sigh from between your lips, grumbling something that he can’t make out and Jungkook decides to take advantage of your incoherent nature to just fix the rest of his attention back on the road. Seriously, if you could keep your mouth shut for the next five minutes, he could actually maintain some semblance of his sanity to prevent any further potential accidents.

Luckily, aside from the occasional hum that leaves your lips, you are quiet which allows Jungkook to carefully navigate the streets before finally pulling up to the curbside in front of your apartment complex. The sight definitely brings back memories, but he swallows them down long enough to take himself out of the driver side and make his way back around to your side of the vehicle.

You’re still hunched against the seat when Jungkook opens the door, eyes closed and lips parted and bombarding him with memories of good times, better times, that he almost doesn’t reach him to shake you awake.

Key word: almost.

He leans in to gently grip your shoulder. “Y/N, we’re here.”

You open your eyes just as he’s reaching over to unbuckle your seatbelt, but Jungkook doesn’t get far because just as he’s about to pull back, your hands dart out to grasp at the hem of his jacket. Despite your sleepy facade, your grip is surprisingly strong and it keeps Jungkook within a close distance to your face.

He swallows down his heart threatening to crawl its way out of his throat.

“I’m not… fucking around Jungkook,” You insist. “The months when you’re not with me suck. They really fucking suck and…” You aren’t drunk but you definitely still are battling with the remnants of alcohol clouding your mind and judgment and Jungkook wants you to stop, wants you to put a halt to something you will surely regret in the morning, but he also knows that you would chew him out for continuously trying to interrupt you. Even if it’s for your own personal benefit. You’re funny and stubborn and adorable and endearing in this sense.

Back to reality. He blinks, biting his lip, hoping you cannot hear his rapidly increasing pulse drumming underneath the skin. Rather than put a stop to it, he can’t help himself this time around. He encourages your drunken mind. “What are you trying to say?”

Your gaze dances across his face, eyes still glazed and shimmering underneath the light of the car and the lights from the building behind the pair of you.

Then, without a warning, you lean forward and dust your lips against his.

For a moment, everything seems to leave Jungkook. Everything: from his sanity to his state of mind to the ground behind his feet to his sense of balance and belonging, leaving him alone with his raw and infinite love for you and a desire for more more more. He barely processes the way your hands move up from the hem of his shirt to the collar until you’re luring him in again for another kiss, one a little bit more firm and a little bit more intoxicating.

Jungkook practically whimpers at the kiss, a little noise of desire escaping from the back of his throat, because holy fucking shit, it may just be because he hasn’t kissed anyone over the past few months or maybe just because he hasn’t kissed you that’s making him feel this way, making him realize just how much he really fucking misses you and how perhaps breaking up wasn’t the best idea. For a split second, he longs to forget that you’re drunk, that you’re definitely not in your right state of mind, that you broke up for a valid (unfortunate) reason, that this is wrong. So very absolutely wrong.

Although it hurts every bone in his body, Jungkook has to force himself to turn away and pull back from you. “W-Wait,” He manages, processing the fact that his voice is low from the events that have just happened. His cheeks feel warm and he feels lightheaded, but he forces himself to stay focused on what is the right thing to do and definitely not trying to notice the way you look: from the flushed cheeks to the darkened lips to the distracted eyes. “We shouldn’t do this. It’s not right.”

The light once flickering so hopefully in your gaze dies down at his firm words, as you cast your head downwards in a mixture of utter shame and embarrassment. He can hear the gears turning frantically in your mind, can feel the way your hands pull away from his frame to settle tightly on your lap, can see the way you press your lips together as if you’re trying to keep yourself from saying anything further.

But his eyes widen as you inhale sharply before a heart-wrenching sob tears itself from your throat. Your hand flies up to cover your mouth, but it does little to stop the hiccups and Jungkook can only watch helplessly as you crumble apart right before his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” You admit quietly, such a soft whisper that he almost doesn’t hear you but he does and you are so broken that Jungkook’s own heart cannot be protected as he kneels down with eyes like a deer caught in the headlights. Questions swarm around his mind, desperately trying to figure out what to say because he should have known this would happen. He should have remembered that at the end of the day, after the laughter and the exhaustion have taken their phase in your identity like passage of the moon—it all ends with this. It all ends with the emotional part of you, when the alcohol gets to your head and leaves nothing but a sobbing mess behind over anything and everything. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” You start to ramble, each word broken up by a sharp inhale for air like your tears are drowning you. “I’m so sorry Jungkook, I’m so stupid, I’m so sorry…”

“Hey,” Jungkook starts. “Hey, stop apologizing. Why are you apologizing? Why are you crying?”

The questions do little but prompt further crying as another strangled sob escapes your throat and you turn your head with a refusal to even look in his general direction. Your jaw is clenched together, your hand is still at your mouth as if attempting to muffle your whimpers to little success.

“B-Because,” You stammer, your whole body shaking with the effort to contain the wave of your sufferings. Jungkook’s heart stutters painfully in his chest, sinking down to his stomach, as the words of how this was all his fault ring like a bell in his mind. “Because you probably hate me. You hate me, d-don’t you?”

He scoots a little closer. “No, no, of course I don’t. Y/N, where did you get that idea?”

You shake your head, eyes slamming shut. “H-How could you not hate me? I just kissed you and we’re not even together anymore, we haven’t been together for months and it just hurts so so much because I’m stupid, I’m so stupid…”

“Y/N, take a breath, you have to calm down,” Jungkook speaks gently, bravely reaching over to rest his hand on your knee, attempting to draw soothing patterns over the denim and hoping more than anything that you can feel the warmth and reassurance of his touch against your skin. “You aren’t making any sense. Why would you call yourself stupid?”

You pull your hand away from your mouth and you glare at him through your tears. Your face is bright red and wet with tears, but still so beautiful it really hurts. “Because I’m still in love with you,” You speak, swallowing down your uneven breathes and forcing yourself to make the statement as clearly as possible. “Because I’m still in love with you, and I’ve been trying to get over you this entire time to no luck. A-And I thought going to that dumb party would help me, but I-I guess not because I’m here being an asshole and trying to kiss you even though you hate me…” Your face crumbles and you look like you’re on the verge of tears all over again.

“Y/N,” Jungkook speaks up, leaning forward. “Y/N, please, stop beating yourself up for this. I don’t hate you. I could never hate you—you were the most important person in my life. I mean… you still are.”

You sniff, reaching up to wipe at your nose. “What are you trying to say?”

“I miss you too,” He replies quietly, gazing down for a moment to study the rest of your body. “I miss you so much all the time it hurts. If I had to give up a penny for every time I wanted to call you or text you… well, I’d probably be broke.”

You blink away the layer of tears clouding your vision. “D-Do you mean that?”

“I would never lie to you,” He admits, looking down and gently reaching over to grasp your hand. He runs his thumb over your skin, momentarily basking in the skin-on-skin contact with you.

Your body jolts with the occasional hiccup as you quietly try to let the previous wave of sobbing pass over you. “I’m sorry,” You whisper again. “I probably made a mess of your evening.”

He shakes his head before he even realizes what he’s doing. “No, it’s okay, I’m just glad to see you home safely.”

You look down at your joined hands. “S-Since you miss me, and I miss you,” You start, biting on your lip. “Can we start over?”

He gazes up at you. Every nerve in his body screams YES, because goddamn, it has been too long and he’s sure that if the universe was willing to give the pair of you another chance, you both would do anything and everything to make it work and not fall into those same traps that broke you apart last time. He has wanted a lot of things, but never has badly as this and he wants to hold you tightly and crush you to his chest and inhale your lavender—and yet.

The sinking sensation seems to hit him in that moment that you’re still drunk and under the influence and thus, not in your right state of mind. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up. He doesn’t think he can handle that.

He lets out a sigh. “If you remember this tomorrow,” He says. “Then we can.”

You start fading again as he takes you out of his car and helps you up the stairs to the correct floor of your apartment, helps your roommate in guiding you into your bedroom, and leaves with a prompt ‘just… take care of her, please…’ with such a sad edge to his voice that Karly gives him a sympathetic pat on the back and a request to drive home safely.

He does, but there is a longing in his chest, a doubt, a warning not to expect too much from this situation.

He loves you too much for the disappointment.

The next morning, he wakes up to surprisingly sunny skies, golden rays, and a text.

from you [7,18am]: Since you miss me and I miss you, can we start over?

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get use to your unpredictability, your determination—and for the first time in months, his smile is brighter than the outside.

#bangtan bookclub #bts writing cafe #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts x reader #traci writes

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

Text

That's So Us (Crystal x Gigi) - Frankenvenus

a/n hi everybody. tysm for the love on the last fic! here’s a little fluffy angsty thing i wrote whilst i was soft over a pr*tty g*rl! enjoy ;)

Heidi cryssie, why aren’t u coming out with us tonight? It’s gonna be so much fun. the whole gang!! :(

Crystal sighed and glanced at the text from her friend for a while. The truth was, she didn’t exactly feel like being surrounded by everyone in her friendship group and their significant others. It would just increase the riddling loneliness in her chest.

Crystal sorry girl i am so so tired. i’ve been working on this thing with lux all week and i’m just not feeling it. maybe we can do it another time?

It was a lie. She was just making up excuses, but she was running out of them. She had spent her entire day on her couch with popcorn and Hulu, and she would continue to do so into the night whilst her friends got inebriated all over Instagram stories.

Heidi but girl it’s gigi and caleb’s 6 month anniversary! caleb is putting all our drinks on his tab. what a gentleman.

That was the problem. Caleb was the problem. Crystal and Gigi had been inseparable best friends since freshman year, but then the latter met Caleb at college, and then suddenly Crystal was no longer her beck and call. Crystal was always behind on what was going on in Gigi’s life now, because the girl would only ever tell her boyfriend.

However, Gigi seemed happy, and Crystal wasn’t such a terrible person that she would consider ruining her friend’s relationship. She supported them, but sometimes she would skip out on certain get-togethers and night-outs, for her own sanity mostly.

Crystal i really cant heidi. another time. have fun. send pics x

Thankfully, Heidi left it there. Crystal loved the girl with her whole heart, but doing free shots with her friends wasn’t worth having to watch Caleb touch her best friend all over for an entire night. It wasn’t that Crystal was an over-protective best friend, because that wasn’t true - Crystal was always willing to add another girl to the friendship group. It was when someone would jeopardise the magnetic force that caused her and Gigi to be attached by the hip that she would grow frustrated. Caleb just barged in and snatched Gigi away, and it stung.

It had only been an hour and Jan had already posted many Instagram stories of Gigi doing body shots off Caleb, her long, dirty-blonde curls brushing his skin as her tongue licked across his neck. Crystal stared at the images for longer than she should’ve, watching the way her friend’s eyes rolled back as she pressed her lips against her boyfriend’s jaw. It took everything in Crystal to press the off button on her phone, and she let out a breath of relief when the screen turned black.

Her expression was reminiscent of someone who had just bitten into a lemon, and she caught a glance at the look in the mirror. Her own face caused her to question why she was so bothered. P.D.A wasn’t the issue. The issue was that Caleb had come between her and Gigi’s friendship, that was all. Crystal scrutinized herself in the mirror, attempting to run her fingers through her large tuft of red curls and failing after getting tangled up at the ends. She sighed at her own appearance, noticing that the happy glow she usually sported had faded. She used to look radiant with crazy hair, and now she simply looked burned out with a tangled mess on her head.

“Fuck this,” she muttered to herself, slowly pushing herself off the couch and towards the bathroom. A wash was very much necessary at that moment. She had been too drained to shower for the past three days, and her hair had become greasy and matted - so much so that even Jackie had pointed it out, and the Persian was never one to criticise.

She turned on the shower dial to a warm setting and stepped in, grabbing her curly shampoo off the small bathroom shelf. Almost instantly, it slipped through her hands, hitting her foot with a loud thud. She shrieked and grabbed her foot with pain, trying to massage the sharp feeling away, to no avail. She watched as her skin reddened and knew that it would soon turn purple. Could things possibly get worse?

Apparently yes, they could, because Dahlia from upstairs decided it would be fun to run a bath right as the redhead stepped into the shower, and the bath always fucked up the water pipe. Crystal’s shower water suddenly turned chilly, causing the girl to quickly hop away from the head and towards her heated towel rail.

She limped to her bedroom, sat by her dresser, sprayed an ungodly amount of dry shampoo in her hair before placing curl serum on a comb and brushing her hair through. The serum made it less impossible to bring a brush through her hair without snapping the handle or getting it stuck. A downside was, it would add even more grease to her hair, but it wasn’t her fault that Dahlia decided to have a bath at eleven at night.

Whilst Crystal was blow-drying her hair, she heard her phone begin to ring from the living room. She overlooked it at first - assuming it’d be a drunk facetime from Heidi - but then it didn’t stop, and the redhead grew concerned. She placed the hairdryer down and padded to the living room, her foot still aching. She made a mental note to place frozen peas on it as she picked her phone up.

Incoming call from Gigi Goode

As much as Crystal wished to distance herself from the blonde that night, she still couldn’t ignore her completely, especially when there could be something wrong. In her mind, the predominant thought was ’What does she need to ask me so bad that she can’t ask him?’ She picked up the phone before it was too late, and was instantly met with the sound of heavy breathing and sniffles.

“G?” Crystal asked, her voice laced with concern, “Are you there?”

”I don’t like him, Crystal.” - her voice was shaky, but not the kind of shaky that was caused by poor mobile reception. No, this shake was triggered by tears.

“Don’t like who, G? Caleb?”

”Yeah. I was just watching him from across the bar, and I was watching his face and I- I guess I just realised that I can’t be with him cause I don’t like him,“ the blonde began whimpering, and Crystal instantly made a beeline for the set of car keys hanging on her wall. ”So I told him that I didn’t like him and he shouted at me, so I left.”

The redhead was relieved that she had chosen to drink lemonade instead of cider that night, and she was limping her way towards the underground car park before she even had the chance to ask Gigi for her location.

“Where are you, Gee?” she inquired, frantically fiddling with her keys to unlock her Skoda. Her hair was still lightly dripping over her shoulder, and she was practically in her pyjamas, but that was the last thing on her mind at that moment.

”I kinda wandered off and now I’m at Grand Hope Park on the swing set. I don’t know where the others are.”

“It’s okay. I’m coming.”

Crystal began to drive and saw the streets bustling with people. The roads were almost empty, but the streetlights were against her. She had caught almost every red light on route, and every time she saw another one she would curse at it like a sailor.

She parked her car a block away from Grand Hope, soon noticing that she had forgotten to bring her purse with her. Briefly, she scanned her surroundings for nearby meter maids. When she was sure the coast was clear, she made her way towards the park, and spotted Gigi almost instantly. The blonde was sitting at the bottom of a plastic slide, face illuminated by her phone screen. Crystal called out her name from a few metres away, and the blonde’s head instantly shot up. It was then that Crystal saw what a mess she had made of her eyeshadow. She must’ve cried then rubbed her eyes because now the mocha-coloured powder that she had so intricately applied to her lids was spread across her cheeks like Halloween makeup.

All the words became unspoken. Gigi’s eyes became hooded as Crystal drew closer and closer, soon towering over the former. The redhead held out her hand and the blonde took it, hoisting herself up and instantly embracing her in a cold hug. Gigi’s arms were bare - she was wearing nothing but a flimsy jumpsuit - so Crystal found herself gently stroking her upper arms with her own warm hands.

They were silent when Crystal took her hand, and they remained silent when the girl led Gigi to the next block, into the car. Crystal didn’t ask questions when Gigi flicked on the car stereo and leaned her forehead against the passenger window, and she didn’t question the blonde when she quietly began to sing along to the tune that played quietly through the speakers - Sign of the times by Harry Styles.

Had Crystal been alone, she would’ve belted the song in its entirety, but she refrained from doing so for the mental state of her best friend. Instead, she took one hand off the wheel and placed it on Gigi’s thigh after noticing it beginning to bounce anxiously.

“He was so mad, Crys,” Gigi spoke up suddenly, her mumbled words nearly inaudible under the buzz of the engine. After a pause, the blonde lifted her head off the window and turned to Crystal, tears spilling from her eyes.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” the redhead raised a brow.

“No, but I was scared that he would. He has a really really short temper and he- well he reminded me of my dad so-”

Crystal swiftly pulled into a rest area after hearing Gigi utter that final sentence. She halted the car once they had exited the main road, and pulled the blonde into a much more meaningful hug this time.

“Oh, Geeg,” she sighed into the blonde’s curls, listening painfully as the sound of Gigi’s sobs filled the car. “You don’t owe him your love. It’s better that you told him not before it’s too late. You can’t force attraction. At least you knew better than to pretend.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Can you, uh- could I stay over at your place tonight? I just need a change of setting and I mean… I haven’t slept over in a while.”

She was right. She hadn’t slept over in a while. In fact, they hadn’t spoken this much in quite a while. Although Crystal was nice enough to keep it to herself, her brain was in overdrive of gratitude that Gigi and Caleb were now over. Perhaps now she could get her friend back.

The redhead agreed to the girl staying over, and soon they had set off again and were pulling in to the car park beneath Crystal’s building. Realising that Gigi was still quite drunk, Crystal assisted her up the staircase. They could’ve taken the elevator, though both of them had forever vowed to stop doing that after once getting trapped there for three hours together.

“I don’t know why you helped me. I didn’t even have to ask. Even though I have treated you like shit for the last half-year. You had every reason to decline my call,” the blonde rambled as Crystal pushed open the door to her apartment.

The redhead turned to Gigi with a confused look on her face.

“That’s not true. Sure I missed you a little bit, but I’m not a shitty friend and I would never leave you hanging,” Crystal assured, pulling Gigi in and closing the door, “Go sit on the couch and I’ll grab you some makeup remover, okay?”

Gigi nodded and disappeared into the living room, leaving Crystal to steady herself. The blonde was an honest drunk and she had drunkenly rambled to Crystal on her couch after clubbing countless times before, but this was different, somehow. The redhead tried to think of ways she should comfort her friend whilst she searched for cotton pads, but the truth was all she wanted to say was ‘He was never going to treat you right. I’ll always treat you right.’ She instantly became disgusted with herself at the prospect. What kind of friend was so obsessive?Her ex-boyfriend was right. She did need therapy.

She entered the living room where Gigi was sat in her green velvet armchair, clutching her knees to her chest. Surprisingly, the blonde had the hint of a smile on her glossy lips.

“What?” Crystal asked as she approached the girl, squeezing the makeup remover onto the cotton pad and dragging it across Gigi’s caked cheeks. The blonde pushed her hair to the side, giving Crystal more access to the product-covered parts of her face.

“It’s just crazy. I didn’t like him so I got sad, and you were the only person I knew wasn’t drinking tonight so I called you, but I don’t like him because of you,” Gigi smiled like it meant nothing, but Crystal’s breathing came to a halt.

“I’m lost…”

Gigi breathed and sat forward so her and Crystal’s faces were close enough to radiate heat off one another.

“I just mean like… every time he fucked me, I just thought about you. I mean, it’s not my fault though. The times I didn’t think about you I would have to fake it. Ugh.”

Gigi said those words with such confidence that Crystal wasn’t sure if she was drunkenly telling the truth or merely pulling her leg. The redhead dropped the makeup remover and stepped back.

“Are you fucking with me, Gigi?”

“God no. I wish I was, I mean I’ve liked you since I was what? Fourteen? God knows how long. I’m only telling you this cause I have nothing else to lose. I know you like guys though.”

Crystal bit her lip and sat herself down on her couch opposite her armchair, “You are so beyond drunk right now, Geeg. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Gigi stood up from her seat, nearly tripping over as she made her way towards Crystal, her brows furrowed and her lip pouted, “I promise I’m telling the truth.”

The redhead stood up so they were face-to-face once more. They were usually the same height, but Gigi stood a little higher due to the platforms she sported that night. Crystal leaned upwards and tapped Gigi’s nose softly before pulling out the sofa bed.

“Go to sleep. If you’re not bullshitting me, then you’ll tell me in the morning exactly what you told me now. Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll make a note.”

#rpdr fanfiction #crystal methyd #gigi goode #crygi #lesbian au #fluff #angst #friends to lovers #frankenvenus #concrit welcome #s12

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halfgclden · 4 years ago

Text

THE PITS(TOP)

It was at a rest stop on the way out of Billings, Montana, that they got the news. It was before that, actually, but Jade was good about not checking her notifications on the road.

“Fuck!” Jade yelled and slammed the car door to have something to direct her anger towards, and she resisted the urge to kick the tire afterwards. “Do they even know how long that took us to put together? We can just repost it. What are they gonna do?”

It had taken less than twelve hours for their major story on a minor celebrity to get posted, cause a big stir, and get taken down. Of course Jade knew this was going to be a likely outcome, but it didn’t mean that she was any less upset about it.

Just as riled up as Jade but stiff as hell from the drive, Joel slowly got out of the car and cracked his back. Then his neck. Then his knuckles. "I can't fucking believe it. This is censorship! Fuck. We have it on a flash drive. They can't do anything. What are they gonna do? Take it down again? They can't do anything." Thunder rumbled as Joel kicked a bottle cap on the ground, a scowl on his typically cheerful face.

It was bullshit.

They (mostly Jade) had spent hours researching their facts and putting the most recent episode together. It had been so good. One of their best, for sure. And yet— poof. In an instant, gone.

Joel watched his twin pace angrily around the parking lot for a moment, then looked up at the gray sky. "What! The! Fuck!" He yelled, taking big breaths in between each word. A family getting into their car a few feet away turned to look at him, disapproval on their face as the mother covered her child's ears. Joel shrugged and turned back to look at Jade, "We knew it could happen but...that was handled in an ungodly amount of time, right? Fuckin' ridiculous."

Jade handled the gas pump with much more force than necessary, then moved so that she could slump against the car. She knew they had backups for this exact reason, but the censorship was expected and unwelcome. Why must people exist with wool over their eyes? Yes, maybe they had insider knowledge on this topic, but that didn't mean that their presentation was any less real and important for the public.

As if to match their mood, the sky opened up above the twins and rain began to pour.

"Ungodly my ass," Jade grumbled, and, on cue, there was a crack as the puddle forming on the ground near them shimmered and projected an image of a brightly-dressed bespeckled woman with a stern look on her face.

"You two..." The woman sighed and shook her head as she pushed back a tangle of curls and piled it all into a messy bun atop her head. "I swear, whenever anything happens, I need only look to you or your siblings." She looked as disheveled as a goddess could, which meant that she still had more grace than an etiquette instructor. "Care to explain what that little stunt was?"

Nothing surprised Joel anymore. Not the speed at which their episode had been taken down. Not the rain that was spattering onto the pavement around them. And amazingly, not the woman who appeared out of thin air before them. "Should have known," he mumbled, loud enough for only Jade to hear.

Fixing a smile on his face, Joel waved innocently to the colorful apparition. "Hi Auntie." He did his best to look like he hadn't done a thing , cutting a look to Jade while the goddess sighed. "What stunt? We were just doing a little research. No harm in that, right?"

The burning look that the goddess shot Joel suddenly made her feel a lot more menacing than her boho tie dye style. "A little research," she pronounced each word with special emphasis, as if she was holding back. "You exposed a place of safety and sanctity. You two have gone too far with these antics."

Jade snorted. "Exposed," she repeated with a roll of her eyes. "Every monster and myth on earth already knows where that camp is. So why are you pressed about mortals finding out about y'all? Is it some way to keep them quelled?" She was tempted to start recording on her phone, and it looked as though the rainbow goddess was reciting a mantra under her breath.

"You two... if this is a cry for attention, you will soon learn that you may be asking for too much. Attention is almost never a good thing to have on you, not with the forces you're playing with."

Jade gave another exaggerated eye roll at the prophetic tone Iris was taking, then stuck her tongue out at Joel.

Somehow, Joel managed to keep the easy smile on his face, despite the heat from Iris' glare. He leaned back, resting against the trunk of the car. It wasn't every day that you got chewed out by a goddess but...it also wasn't the first time. Joel wondered how long the gods would find them amusing. He swallowed hard, not letting his thoughts go any further down that path.

As if reading his twin's mind, Joel carefully slid his phone out of his pocket, intending to record the situation they'd found themselves in. The goddess launched into what felt like a pre-prepared speech, talking about the grandiose forces at hand and Joel tried to hide his smile. He caught the look Jade was giving and made a face in return.

Looking back to Iris, he shrugged. "It's not a cry for attention. We're hardly the first to make a big deal about the strange stuff going on out there. I mean, come on, Auntie— did you even listen to it before you took it down? Long Island was home to some buckwild government experiments back in the day. How do you explain that?" He cut his hand through the air. "There are plenty of people like us that live in the public eye. Shouldn't y'alls sanctuary hold up against anything these 'forces' might throw at it?"

Jade gave a small quirk of her eyebrow towards her brother, but otherwise kept her expression neutral. "We're just saying that maybe it's a time where people start to open their eyes. People who don't want to see past the mist, they won't bother, but why not make it easier for those who could have a foot in both worlds? Mortals have always been a part of myth." Not to mention the fact that the gods may or may not have their fingers in some more suspicious business. Why were they located at the Empire State Building? What kind of power did they have over the political structure of the United States? Did Zeus make money off the Iraq war?

Iris seemed to be less impressed with each sentence that came from the twins, and her patience was running thin. She looked between both of them before she flicked her hand at Joel's phone, instantly draining the battery. Before he could give her any grief about it, she held up the same hand. "You're lucky I didn't crumble that to dust, dear boy. You two are playing with fire. That is not a warning, that is a guarantee. I suggest you tuck your tails between your legs and not pull any stunts like that again. Apologize and thank those above you for vouching for you."

Chiming in, Joel added, "Yeah! The mythical and mortal worlds have been entwined for centuries! Seems only fair that people who want to know should be able to see what's really around them. And...without mortals, the gods wouldn't have so many heroes to do their bidding." It was a risky point to make, but it was true. Every myth he'd ever read proved it. Still, Joel got the feeling that the gods would not appreciate being called out like that.

He meant to say more but in that moment, the jig was up. Iris had spotted his not-so-stealthy recording and Joel grimaced. He stood up a little straighter as she delivered her warning, pocketing his now-dead phone. Hopefully the little snippet he'd recorded would still he there when it powered up again but that seemed unlikely. Being told to apologize and give thanks didn't sit right with Joel, so he stood quietly, looking away from Iris to meet Jade's eyes. A raise of his eyebrows silently communicated 'what do you think?' and, at the same time, 'can you believe this is our life right now?'

The rain was picking up, as was the wind, and though Iris seemed entirely unbothered by it, Jade was wondering if she was going to have to change her clothes before driving to a motel for the evening.

"Do you know what the gods bidding is?" Iris asked Joel, though it was clear that she didn't care for it to be answered. "Of course you don't. Or if you do, you clearly show that you do not understand. The gods are there to keep order. To keep it so that fate is handled in a way that does the least amount of harm. Do you know what happens if you ignore a prophecy, or try to deny it? You've read enough myth to know, haven't you? You can not deny prophecy, it will always come true."

Jade's cheeks burned despite the cold rain on them, but she held her tongue, and shot Joel a response. 'Ugh, yeah, what else would it be' followed by 'we should probably leave it for now, though.’ She raked her teeth over her lower lip, realizing that Iris was expecting a reply, and maybe the apology she'd already mentioned. "Of course," her tone betrayed her, coming out as a grumble, and she cleared her throat. "I thought this was like Area 51. People even showed up there and nothing happened. Doubt anything is going to come out of this." She kept an eye on Iris, watching for any sort of recognition of the Area 51 incident, since Jade was positive the gods had something under wraps there. Then, she reluctantly added, in a much smoother tone, "We're sorry that it got so big. I mean, subscribers are probably gonna be great, if you let us keep them so we can afford dinner..."

Iris rolled her eyes, but her stony expression seemed to be cracking, as though she'd delivered the message she was supposed to already. Even the rain seemed to be dying down.

"—And thank you, of course, for vouching for us," Jade added, figuring that it was what the goddess had hinted at earlier and was now waiting for.

Rain dribbled down his glasses and Joel wished he'd thought of making tiny windshield wipers for them. There was always next time. He slowly took them off his face, using the hem of his shirt to dry them off before looking back at Iris. It would be so easy to continue to argue, to direct his frustration into something instead of holding it inside. But a goddess was a bad target to pick. So Joel kept his mouth shut and nodded along to her rhetoric, a thin smile on his face.

Letting Jade do the talking was much easier than bringing up all the counterarguments his brain had already conjured up. She was the more convincing of them anyway. Joel couldn't fathom how Iris could claim the gods were keeping order when you learned that the children of the gods had basically been the root of most major conflicts in history in Being a Demigod 101. And...Zeus was pretty much responsible for single-handedly being the worst husband in the world. He doubted Hera (or all the mortals he'd knocked up) would agree that he was keeping order. It was probably bad form to bring that up though. Faking a cough to hide his laugh at Jade's mention of Area 51 , Joel looked away. It was definitely bad form to laugh before a clearly pissed-off goddess. But there was something going on at Area 51. Everyone knew that. Idly, he wondered if @_kllledbycain was a Kakashi impersonator full-time. Maybe that was the link to the Area 51 raid they needed! He'd have to remember to tell Jade...as soon as they were out of danger of being smited? Smote? Incinerated.

It was probably his turn to chime in. To really sell it. He arranged his expression into a sheepish sort of smile. "Seriously, the subscribers would...save us. But, uh, yeah. We didn't think it would take off like that, didn't think anything of it really. It was just supposed to be this silly thing we were working on. We're sorry if we put anyone at risk. And— yeah, what Jade said. Thank you, genuinely."

Jade glanced at Joel, wearing an expression that said 'what, are you going to get down and actually kiss her ass next time?' before glancing away, not wanting to snicker at her brother.

Iris, however, seemed to be at least somewhat appeased by the twins responses, and while the downpour had turned to slightly more than a drizzle, she wore an expression like unto a tired caretaker. Was she ready for the next problem? Probably not, and so she would send Hermes to deal with that one instead. "I never said I was the one to vouch for you."

Jade wanted to point out that she didn't deny it either, but she didn't want to make the little smile on Iris's face disappear. "Well, thanks for coming to deliver the message personally, then. It's always good to see you, auntie." Though it'd be better if it didn't come with an unneeded shower. Jade dipped her head to sniff herself. Okay, after hours of driving, maybe the shower wasn't entirely unnecessary.

Iris hummed in response as the rain died down almost entirely, and her form flickered before the two demigods. "Now, if you even think about putting that back up, I won't be the god associated with weather that will be coming to speak to you." She sighed and put a hand up to her ear. "Okay, now I need to deal with a translation error in Prague. Don't make any trouble, good luck on your trip, and kids, please, get into a change of clothes, before you get sick."

Jade opened her mouth to make a point, but the goddess was already gone, and so she just looked to Joel like a wet cat, jaw set as her hair dripped. "Such bullshit. I need to remember to wear a wetsuit next time we put up an episode.

Instinctively feeling the judgy look Jade was giving him, Joel turned his head in time to get her subliminal message and give her a generous eye roll in return. Maybe he'd laid it on a bit thick, so what? At least the rain was stopping now. That and Iris looked significantly less bothered and more like herself— which meant that instead of being 100% done with the twins, she was only about 70% done with them.

"Tell Hermes we say thanks for the coffee," Joel grinned, giving Iris a little wave as he moved to dig a something out of the trunk of the car. He tried not to laugh when she gave them another warning, knowing full well that he and Jade were thinking the same thing. It was time for another episode. "See you later, Auntie," he gave the goddess a small wave as she shimmered out of view then, looked over at Jade. She really did look like a wet cat. He probably didn’t look much better. In fact, the two of them probably looked a little ridiculous. They seemed to be standing in the only area of the whole rest stop that had been rained on. Go figure.

"Here," he held a towel out to Jade. "I'll add 'wetsuits' to our Patreon wishlist. Should I put 'umbrella' on there too?"

“Shut up,” Jade grumbled, clearly not in the mood for Joel’s ability to remain his goofy self in any situation. She took the towel and stepped around the car so that she could open the back seat and dig through clothes that she could change into for the rest of the ride. "There's an umbrella somewhere in here. Probably ten, honestly, and they're probably all piled under Toothless's cage." She shot their bearded dragon a look, as though he had been hoarding all the umbrellas on purpose, and he gave her a lazy wink in return. "He just winked, Joel! No shit! He basically told us that he ate them all."

Once fully changed, she wrapped her wet clothes up in the towel and tossed it in the back (something to deal with later), then walked around the car fully so that she could climb into the passenger's side. She drew her legs up so that she could rest them on the dashboard, and was only on her phone for a short time before she groaned and slumped down in the seat, contorting in a very uncomfortable-looking position.

"Ugh! Ughhhh. They got it taken off Patreon too." She huffed, looking at Joel with a forlorn expression. "Whatever, I don't even give a shit. Like this won't make it blow up even more." She wasn't sure she really believed her words, and her tone betrayed this. "Whatever," she repeated, rolling her eyes as she sniffled and turned her head to look out at the rain dramatically. It would have helped if it was actually still raining. "I'm naming the next episode number 33, I don't even care."

"Alright, alright," he nodded, understanding how his twin was feeling. While Jade busied herself looking for dry clothes, Joel set to work cleaning out the front seat before the next leg of their drive. It was no surprise that he quickly filled a plastic bag with trash— most of which was empty chip and candy bags. "He did what?" Joel glanced over the backseat, making eye contact with Toothless and raised an eyebrow. The reptile stared back at him, unblinking. "Oh, for sure. Tooth's a machine. He could eat a whole umbrella factory. Is that a thing?"

Finally, the cab of the car was clean, save for the two coffee cups in the center console. Joel picked up Jade's cup, shook it to make sure it was empty, and added it to the bag of trash. Grabbing his own iced mocha, he took a sip, the straw making an empty slurping sound in the drained cup. This too he added to the bag. Returning to the car after disposing of their trash, a gleam in the console caught his eye. In the same moment, Jade clambered into the passenger seat.

"They— seriously? Ugh." Joel quickly swapped out his shirt for a dry hoodie and got into the passenger seat. "God how do you drive like this?" He muttered before adjusting the chair and mirrors for his height. Wishing he could say something to lift Jade's spirits, a small frown worked its way onto his face. He knew his twin well enough to know that she'd recover in the morning when they saw how many new subscribers and views this debacle was sure to bring, but in the meantime— "Can I offer you a drachma in this trying time?" Joel had fished the handful of gleaming gold coins from the cupholder while Jade vented. Now, he held one out to Jade, the grin on his face almost as bright as the coin resting in his palm. "Looks like someone didn't want our episode to be taken down. Found it under the coffee."

Jade peeked away from the window back at her brother, looking up at him from where she was burrowing herself in her sweatshirt. She took the coin and pressed it to her chest, shifting in the seat to push herself up a bit, as the world seemed a bit less like it was going to end. She exhaled a breath and gave a small smile to Joel. "Should've left fries instead. Can't eat this."

Nevertheless, her spirits were no doubt lifted, and she raised her eyebrows at her twin. "Ready to start work on episode 33 tomorrow?"

"Episode 33 tomorrow," Joel agreed, as he put the car in reverse. "Fries now."

#c: jade #c: jadejoel

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