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ill-be-your-honey-bri · 4 years ago

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Banana Pancakes

HELLO MY LOVES! WHEW! This one took me WAY longer than I had wanted it to, but you know, life comes at ya and you gotta go with the punches.

That being said, this fic is part of @stellarboystyles THREE YEAR ANNIVERSARY FIC CHALLENGE! Congrats darling (though I’m a month late)! I had picked the single parent trope and the line I chose to use for the challenge is bolded and italicized in my fic.

Without further ado, I present my Nanny!Harry fic. Enjoy, leave a like, REBLOG FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! Send me some feed back, asks, love or hate, I don't care. TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS!

I love you and treat people with kindness.

Warnings: Lots of fluff, a sprinkle of smut, and a dash of angst (if you squint).

Harry woke up to the smell of the crisp, cool fall air coming through his cracked bedroom window. The sky was still an inky fog as he stretched his arms over his head, skin pimpling as the air caressed him. He woke up before his alarm out of habit, knowing it would ring out shortly.

He roused out of his bed, extending his stretch through his legs and let out a satisfied groan when that one particular muscle in his lower back felt the pull it desired. He turned to his phone to turn his alarm off before going to the window to shut it, only after his dark tabby cat climbed back into his rightful home. Harry mumbled a ‘morning handsome’ to his fuzz ball, crouching down to give Elvis some morning loving.

Elvis followed Harry into the kitchen, knowing it was time for breakfast, mewing while figure-eighting between Harry’s feet.

“I know bub, I’m getting it.” Harry let out a yawn as he was filling the cat’s bowl. Elvis jumped on the counter, shoving his face in the bowl before Harry was even done filling it. “Eager this morning, are ya? Out there charming all the lady cats got you hungry? I hope you were a gentleman, I taught you better.”

Harry began making his coffee and filled his mug before returning to his room to get ready for the day. He decided on picking her favorite sweater; his blue ‘mon petite’ chickadee jumper. He laid it out on his bed as he pulled out his brown wide legged trousers and a striped button up to layer. He jumped in the shower to rinse off the morning haze and the ‘sleepies’, as his girl calls it.

His girl.

He smiled as he thought about her, what they had planned for the day. Maybe he will take her to the museum, stop by her favorite cafe, pick up a new book for them to read. He finished getting ready, pulling out his bike from the hallway closet to get it all set for his venture to his girl’s house. He grabbed his backpack, filled it with his girl’s favorite snacks, books, and their matching lavender water bottles, smiling as he threw his bag on his shoulders and carried his bike down the stairs of the apartment building.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry got to his girl’s home, putting in the code as he turned the key as to not awake her with the alarm. He put down his bag by the entry table, kicking off his scuffed up white Vans before softly padding up the stairs. He saw the door cracked open, slowly pushing it open further before walking to kneel by the bed.

He gently pushed her unruly hair off her beautiful face, seeing her lips in a pout and a furrow in her brow. She stirred slightly before her big doe eyes sleepily blinked open, causing Harry to smile down at her, which earned him a smile back.

“Good morning, my sweet girl.”

“Mornin’, did mama leave yet?”

“Not yet, Monkey. You know she can never go to work without giving you your kiss.”

Layla sat up fully, making grabby hands for Harry to pick her up and carry her downstairs. Harry could hear you in the shower getting ready for work as Layla cuddled into him on his way to your kitchen.

If you would have asked Harry two years ago if he thought he would be the nanny to your daughter, he would have laughed at the idea. He had been working at a daycare center when he first met you and his girl, Layla.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She was an infant when you had to return to work. Being a single mom, you needed to do what was best for you and your little bundle of joy. You had done extensive research on all the daycare facilities in your area, even venturing out a little further to get the best for your little angel. You had taken her to Small Wonders Daycare, nervous for your first day back as a pediatrician resident at the children’s hospital and your first day away from the love of your life.

You had walked into her assigned room provided by the administration when you completed the application and interview. The room was duckling yellow with moss green accents. Babies were laying on their bellies on the floor, being cooed at by a gentleman in a sheep sweater vest and tan trousers. He looked up to see you with Layla in her carrier, beaming and quickly hopped on his socked feet to meet you at the door. His co-teacher promptly laid with the little ones on the floor.

“You must be Mrs. Y/LN!”

“Um, no, just Dr. Y/LN or Y/N preferably.” You smiled at him as he was blushing from embarrassment.

“I - I am so sorry.”

“It’s alright. Not the first time it has happened.” You smiled at him before looking down at your little one who is looking around with wide eyes. Harry also looked at the carrier, quickly gaining his composure as he saw the little beauty.

“And you must be Layla!” Cooing at her, causing her to smile and blink slowly. He got on his knees as you placed the carrier on the floor so that he was able to unhook her and gently pick her up to his chest. He softly looked down at her as she returned the gaze, “Don’t tell the other girls this but, you have got to be the most beautiful little girl I have ever met.”

Layla quickly nuzzled into his chest, scratching gently at one of the sheep on his vest, giving you a sense of comfort and ease, knowing that your daughter is already in good hands. You had tried not to cry as you told Harry her schedule and routine, handing him her diaper bag.

“She prefers her milk at room temp, she gets fussy if it's too hot or too cold. There is enough breastmilk for the day and formula as well, if you need it. She has been eating me dry.” Harry gave a light chuckle, handing you your baby as he was putting the breastmilk in the refrigerator, Layla’s diapers and wipes in their designated spot by the changing table.

“I packed some extra clothes in her bag too, lots of bibs. She is not the most ladylike when it comes to eating, huh baby?” You gently rubbed her cheek as you looked down at her with maternal love.

Harry, always in awe of the way a mother could love her child and after being with you for a few moments, he knew that you could never love or cherish anything more than the little being cradled in your arms. The way your daughter looked up at you with awe, watching your every movement. That was a love that Harry always craved for.

Seeing Layla grow was one of Harry's fondest memories. He was there when she started to take her first attempt at steps, babbling and cooing her first ‘words’. When it was time that Layla was meant to graduate from his class room, it broke his heart. And it broke yours too.

Harry and Layla had created such a bond, you couldn’t bear for them to part. So you did the only thing you thought you could do when you walked into the classroom to see Harry laying on his back with your little one being held up in the air, giggling away with a few teeth that finally peeked through her gums.

“Hello my little one!” You had knelt down on the carpet next to Harry as he was handing you Layla, who was extremely happy to see you; kicking her legs and squealing happily. “Did you have a good day?”

“She was a little monkey today!” Harry was packing up Layla’s diaper bag as he was telling you about her day. “She was trying to climb out of her crib, climbing all over my lap during lunch and my back during tummy-time.”

“Oh no! We just got crawling down like a boss and now you get the gall to start climbing! You’ll be walking before you know it and then we will be in real trouble, wont we missy?” You started to kiss her chubby cheeks, making giggles bubble from her tummy.

“I’ll certainly miss her.” Harry gave you a shy smile as he carried her diaper bag and a gift from him for Layla to you. He handed you her bag as you stood up before handing you the gift bag.

“What’s this?” You gave him a curious look as you took the bag in hand as you settled Layla on your hip.

Harry scratched the back of his neck and wiggled his socked toes. “It’s just a little something.”

Layla reached her arms out to Harry, as if she knew this would be the last day that they would be able to cuddle. You handed her over easily, tapping her bum before opening the gift bag. Inside was her favorite book to ‘read’ with Harry, (you're pretty sure it's because of the way Harry reads it to her because she crawls away every time you try to read it). There was a crochet sweater that Harry told you his mom made, and a framed photo of Harry and Layla where Layla is squeezing Harry's cheeks to pull him in for a sloppy kiss.

You held your chest as you looked at the photo and tears began to well. “Harry, this is… this is so sweet, thank you. She loves you so much.”

He smiled down at her, scrunching his face, which Layla had mocked, “I guess I love her too. You have a very special girl on your hands.” He kissed her little nose before she cuddled onto his shoulder.

“I don’t want her to have a new teacher.” You wiped your eyes as you put Layla’s gifts back in the bag. “Would you want to be her nanny, Harry?”

Harry froze at the offer, a little taken back by being offered what he would consider to be a dream job; help you care for your perfect child. Granted, Harry had thought of this before but more of a fatherly figure than a nanny, but he would take what he could get to be close to both of his girls.

“What do you say Monkey? Want me to be your nanny?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry made his way down the stairs with Layla wrapped around his waist, her head on his shoulder. Her little fingers were twisting in the curls on the nape of Harry’s neck as he was humming and rubbing circles on her back. Layla unraveled herself as Harry approached the table to set her down so that he could start the coffee maker and begin making Lalya’s favorite breakfast.

Layla watched on with sleepy eyes, occasionally giving them a rub, as Harry pulled out a mixing bowl, flour, eggs, vanilla, bananas, and Layla’s favorite part, chocolate chips. She had quietly stood up from her perch and made her way to the ingredients as Harry was setting up the coffee pot. Harry had turned just in time to see Layla pop a small handful of chocolate chips into her mouth. She froze her movements.

“Monkey… what did I say about eating the chocolate chips before they are in your pancakes?”

Layla slowly reached for a few more, putting her hand out to Harry, “We share?”

Harry couldn’t help but to let a chortle out as he bent down, meeting his girl as her little fingers gripped on the chips that she moved to pop them in Harry’s mouth. “Thank you monkey! Would you like to help me mix?”

Layla quickly nodded as Harry picked her up to place her on the counter, making sure she was far enough from the edge before he handed her the whisk and placed the mixing bowl in front of her. Harry measured out the ingredients before putting them in the bowl for his girl to start mixing. Harry had pretended that he didn’t notice her add more handfuls of chocolate chips into the mix.

Harry heard your heels on the hardwood upstairs and Layla quickly turned when she realized you were coming down the stairs. You took Harry’s breath away, as you always did when you walked into the room. He could never take his eyes off of you when you were in his line in vision. He took in how perfect the blush pink, knee length, a-line dress perfectly hugged your curves. The way the nude heels made your legs look miles long. How perfect your hair frames your face and the beaming smile as you saw your baby girl.

“Good morning, baby!” You walked to the island of your kitchen to give your daughter a kiss, noticing the taste of chocolate when you pulled your lips from hers. You hum and squint your eyes, causing Layla to let out a giggle as she covered her mouth. “That’s funny, I’m pretty sure Harry hasn’t made you any pancakes yet, so why are your kisses so yummy?”

Layla shrugged as if she had no idea what you were talking about, causing you to look at Harry who gave you the same exact shrug your daughter had just given you. You shake your head, resting your hand on Harry’s lower back as you pass to make your coffee.

Harry focused on the touch, wishing that your hand was pressed a little firmer and a little longer. He wished that after you kissed your perfect carbon copy, you would kiss him too and catch him red handed after sneaking a few chocolate chips. He had wished that he wouldn’t have to go home at the end of the day to his lonely apartment. He shook himself from his thoughts as he heard you thank him for making coffee.

“Oh, it’s no problem. I made enough for you to take some with you too.”

“God, you’re a saint!” You squeezed his shoulder as you walked to the stool that held your purse and work tote. “Starting as a full time doctor at the children’s hospital has been so draining. I’m pretty sure I have been drinking a whole pot by myself.”

“I know that they just hired you full time but you should take some time for yourself.”

Layla watched on as you and Harry talked about work, slowly stopping her mixing and reached her hand for the chocolate chip bag. Harry slapped his hand on the bag, moving it away without even looking in Layla’s direction as he continued to talk about you and your self care. You let out a chuckle at Layla’s shocked pout as you take your last sip of your coffee.

“Alright my love, I need to get going. Be good for Harry.” Layla reached up to wrap her arms around your neck and gave you another peck to your lips.

“I will mama, I love you!”

“I love you too, baby. Have a good day Harry, call me if you need anything.”

With that, you walked out the door and got in your car to go to work as Harry got back to making breakfast for his girl.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After eating breakfast and doing a team clean up, Harry took Layla to her room to pick out an outfit for the day. Layla stood there, wide eyed, watching Harry as he moved around her room, knowing exactly where everything was.

“I was thinking we could go to the park today, what do you think monkey? And after the park, we would go to the museum.”

Layla perked up, excited to go to two of her favorite places, hoping Harry would list her most favorite place when they have a day planned like this.

“And the cafe?” She looked up at him with hopeful eyes, now standing by his side while he was pulling socks out of her dresser.

“I don’t know monkey… do you think we should?” Harry was trying to hold back his smile, knowing how devastated she would be if he were to ever tell her no to her favorite cafe.

“Please, Harry? It’s my favorite.” Of course, she had to use those gorgeous eyes that she clearly got from her mother. Harry realized that he is so weak for these girls.

“Alright, I guess we must then.” Harry closed the drawer with his hip and Layla jumped and clapped before sprinting to her ensuite.

Layla quickly stripped out of her clothes and turned the knobs to the bath herself before using all her little strength to put the plug in the tub. Harry was smart enough one day, when Layla was feeling extra autonomous, to put stickers on where the perfect bath temperature would be, so that Layla would never burn herself or cry when it’s too cold.

Harry laid out her outfit for the day on the sink counter, grabbing a cup and kneeling before the tub to help wash her hair. He heard “I can do it” more times than he can count until it became time to rinse her hair, where she would wordlessly tip her head back and cover her eyes with her little hands.

They would mindlessly chat about what they were excited to see at the museum, what they would play at the park, until Layla randomly asked, “Do you have a daddy?”

Harry froze. He knew he obviously was going to answer but he was afraid of where the conversation would lead to. “I do.” He let the silence settle, not wanting to push Layla to talk due to his anxiety.

“Mama says I have a daddy out there somewhere but she loved me too much to share me.” Layla rubbed the water away from her face before looking at Harry with a gentle smile that began to turn to a soft pout.

“What’s the matter, monkey? You can talk to me.” Harry put the cup off to the side on the tub ledge before leaning in to listen to his sweet girl. Her little fingers began to trace the ink on his left arm since his arms were exposed after Harry pushed up his sleeves for bath time.

“I’m sad I don’t know anything about my daddy. Did he not love me?” Harry could see the tears form in Layla’s eyes and he could physically feel them form in his along with the lump in his throat.

“Oh, baby. I don’t know anything about your daddy but I do know that he is a very lucky man to have had you and mama.”

“Why is he gone?” Layla’s tears were freely falling and her little lip was trembling.

Harry grabbed Layla’s towel, picking her up and wrapping the towel around her so he could hold her to his chest as she nuzzled in his neck, exactly how she did when they first met.

“My sweet girl.” He was rubbing her back and rocking her back and forth. Harry was curious as to what had brought this on but he didn’t want to press it. He did know that he was going to properly spoil his girl rotten today to make all her worries and heartache disappear.

Layla sniffled and wiped her runny nose on the towel before pushing away from Harry, resting her hands on his chest to look him in the face. She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a good squeeze, making a smile spread to Harry’s cheeks, holding his girl closer.

“Will you Elsa braid my hair like mama does?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Probably won’t look as good as mama’s but I will try.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry must say, he’s pretty proud of his braid as he is putting Layla’s glittery sky blue helmet on her.

Harry had dressed her in an outfit he would probably wear. You always had a good sense of fashion and Layla was picking up on it as well, now that you have been giving her some more independence in choices.

Layla was dressed in dark purple corduroy flares with a cream sweater, speckled with pastel pinks, purples, and blues. Harry made sure that she wore comfortable but warm shoes, opting for some brown leather Chelsea boots. Harry grabbed her mustard yellow peacoat and threw a pair of gloves in his backpack, just in case, along with more socks, another sweater, extra hair ties and clips (Harry would occasionally steal her butterfly clips for his own hair). He made sure that their water bottles were filled and there were snacks and sanitary wipes in the front pocket of his backpack before throwing it on his shoulders.

Harry and Layla walked out the front door, her helping lock up the house, before walking to Harry’s bike. He picked up Layla to set her in the kid carrier attached to the back of Harry’s bike. You had been extremely nervous when Harry had first told you about the seat and wanting to take Layla for a ride. You offered to help him get a car, even if it was for your own sanity, but Layla loved riding on Harry’s bike way too much to ever say no.

Layla was patient and cooperative with Harry hooking her in, making sure she was safe and secure. Harry checked the straps and buckles three times before he gave Layla an approving nod while she returned his gesture, adding a giggle. Harry swung his leg over the seat, kicked up the kickstand and planted his feet on the pedals, making their way to the park. Layla enjoyed the scenery whizzing by while humming some song that Harry couldn’t make out, otherwise he would have joined her.

They made their way to the park, enjoying the rest of the morning hours there before they ventured to the cafe on the lake that was close to the park. Harry kept his bike locked up, opting to hold Layla’s hand as they walked to the cafe.

Harry had asked Layla why she likes this cafe so much many times and her answers had changed over the years. She used to tell Harry that it was because of “duckies”, then it turned to liking their hot cocoa. Today when he asked, his heart was warmed by her words and how wise she had become by the ripe age of three.

“Mama brings me here when we go to the park and you always bring me here. It’s our family spot.”

The waitress came over, beaming at Harry and Layla sitting across from each other, coloring on the placemat together.

“Oh my goodness, your daughter is so cute!”

Layla looked up at the waitress with a scowl before looking at Harry, causing him to laugh.

“I’m her nanny.”

The waitress looked taken back but quickly changed her features, looking Harry up and down and biting her lip. Layla continues to scowl at the waitress as Harry told her that they were ready to order.

Layla, being the smart girl she is, noticed how the waitress demeanor changed. How she was now only focused on Harry, began to twirl her hair and the constant lip biting. Harry had ordered his food and looked to Layla, who cleared her throat to get the waitress’s attention.

“My mama is prettier and she’s a doctor.”

Harry choked on his water at Layla’s childlike bluntness, causing a laugh to escape from his lips that he was trying to hold back. The waitress now was the one to wear the scowl as Layla’s own demeanor became confident with a hint of sass.

The waitress finally looked to Layla, “That’s not a very nice thing to say to a stranger.”

“It’s not nice to ignore me. I want hot cocoa with extra whipped cream and grilled cheese. Thank you.” Layla went back to coloring on the placemat, dismissing the waitress.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They had finished their lunch, the waitress returning minimally since she got scolded by the child. Layla had cleaned up her area, stacking all of her dirty dishes and utensils onto Harry’s plate before hopping down from her chair and reaching for Harry’s hand. They got back to Harry’s bike, having Layla grip onto Harry’s trouser leg as he was unlocking the bike to set it up properly to get Layla back in her seat.

On their way to the museum, she was playing with the keychain they had made together that was attached to the zipper of Harry’s backpack. They were chatting about what parts of the museum they were going to be looking forward to.

Harry had tried to make their time together as educational as possible. Her little brain was ever growing, becoming curious, and he tried to feed its thirst for knowledge. The museum was having an exhibit on extinct animals so he had made sure they made it in time for them to join.

Layla was a wonderful listener. Harry had to carry her, per her request, so that she could be close to the presenter as they walked around the exhibit so she wouldn't miss a word he was saying. Her eyes were glued to the speaker when he spoke, focused on the extinct animal figure on display when he would direct their focus. Layla had her fingers wrapped in Harry’s curls, twisting them gently in her little fingers as she sponged up the information. She would occasionally rest her head on his shoulder, nuzzle close, and Harry would rest his head on hers.

“Getting tired, sweetheart?”

Layla lazily shook her head no as her grip tightened on to Harry. Harry knew she would be fast asleep the moment he got her into the bike seat.

Layla slept all the way home, Harry careful to pull her out to not disturb her, holding her close as he got them inside. He carried her to her room, slowly peeling off her coat and boots before covering her in a crochet blanket; another gift made by his own mother for his girl. Layla curled onto her side, subconsciously grabbing for her stuffed monkey Harry got for her for her third birthday, and soft snores began to fall from her lips.

Harry kissed her cheek before turning on her white noise maker and leaving her door cracked. Harry made his way down stairs and plopped on the couch, falling asleep himself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry woke up covered in a soft sherpa blanket with the smell of garlic and tomato filling his nostrils. He let out a stretch before sitting up, seeing you standing at the stove and Layla at the table painting.

You were still in your blush dress from the morning but were barefoot and hair up in a messy bun with pieces framing your face. You were sipping from your red wine glass while pushing chicken and veggies in a skillet.

Layla perked up when she saw Harry staring at you. She had noticed this look he gave you before, the ever observant girl, but she didn’t know how to verbalize what the look could mean. She let Harry watch you a little longer until you had noticed he was awake when you turned around.

“Morning sunshine! Did this one wear you out today?” You were smiling at him as you continued to chop vegetables to put them in a salad, popping a chunk of cucumber in your mouth and handing Layla a chunk for herself, popping her piece in her mouth almost identical to you. Except, Harry was focused on the way your lips curled into a soft smile while you eloquently chewed and swallowed the piece of green veg before licking your lips, causing Harry to realize how dry his mouth was and how sweaty his palms were.

“No, not at all. We had a great day, guess I just needed the rest.”

You nodded as you pulled three plates down from the cupboard to place on the table. You mumbled a “time to clean up” into Layla’s hair, that is now loose from its Elsa braid, as you kissed the top of her head. Layla gently put her paints away, Harry helping with the water cup and laying the painting on the counter to dry. Harry walked Layla to the bathroom so they could both wash their hands for dinner.

You had made up the plates and placed them on the table before Harry and Layla had walked out. Getting Layla a cup for water and another red wine glass, you poured Harry a glass and topped yours off, setting them on the table as the two walked out.

This had become a strange tradition for the three of you after you had noticed that Harry had lost weight and was concerned that he wasn’t eating properly at home by himself. He swore it wasn’t an issue but you had gone full mama bear mode on Harry and started to put a plate in front of him before he had an opportunity to tell you “no thank you”. You sat at the table with Layla and Harry, discussing their day.

“Mama, the lady at the cafe ignored me to stare at Harry. It wasn’t nice!”

You let out a giggle, thinking to yourself that you can’t blame the poor waitress for being enchanted by the magnetic being across from you. “You’re right baby, that’s not nice but hopefully Harry got a phone number out of it.”

You smiled across at Harry and he began to blush, opening his mouth to speak but Layla beat him to it.

“Why would Harry need her phone number? He can call you!”

As calm and collected as you were, Harry went into a slight panic; was he really that obvious when it came to his feelings for you?

“Again, you’re right baby. Harry can call me any time he wants.”

Harry’s eyes went wide and Layla’s scowl turned into a bright smile, going back to eating her dinner while Harry sat there frozen.

“I can call you?”

“Of course Harry, any time. Even if it’s just to check in on Layla.”

Harry deflated a little when you were clear about your intentions for a phone call just as a friendly gesture. Harry went back to eating, trying to disguise his disappointment.

Harry had helped you clean up while Layla went to get her pajamas on. There was an awkward silence looming over the two of you that you could both sense but you weren’t sure who would cut through it first, so you decided to bare the knife.

“Can I ask you a huge favor? You have every right to say no if you are busy or you just don’t want to.”

“Of course, can ask me anything.”

“Would you be able to watch Layla Friday night?”

“Yeah, no problem. Did you get called in to cover at the hospital?”

“Um, no, actually. I have a date.”

The knife you used to cut through the heavy air around you just went right into Harry’s heart. He couldn’t tell if you could notice but he could feel his blood run cold and his face go pale.

“No problem. I’ll just stay all day Friday. I should get going now though.”

“You don’t want to stay for the Great British Bake off? You always stay to watch after dinner.” You gave him a pout as you wiped your hands with a rag to dry them. Those eyes always work on him, no matter if they are from Layla or you, but his heart couldn’t bear to look at them tonight.

“I have stuff at home to catch up on and since I’ll be busy on Friday now, I should get it done.”

“Harry, you don’t have to watch Layla on Friday if you’re already busy. I can find a babysitter.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, Harry quickly walked to the door, stopping when he saw Layla come down the stairs, trying to hold back his tears that he can feel burning.

“Good night my sweet girl, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Layla reached her arms up to hug Harry, holding her extra tight and giving her a long kiss to her cheek before gently setting her feet on the floor and heading home.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You were getting ready for your date as Harry was making dinner for him and Layla. You had offered to cook something up but Harry told you that you should get ready so you wouldn’t be late.

You walked down in the tightest dress Harry had ever seen you in, making his body ache from desire and heartbreak. How desperately he wanted to pick you up for a date with you walking out in that curve hugging maroon dress and black stiletto heel, putting your earring in and fluffing your hair to where you want it to lay.

“So pretty mama!”

“Thank you baby!” You gave the top of her head a kiss before going to pick up your phone from the charger to place in your clutch. You heard the horn of a car outside as you were grabbing your black trench coat.

“Okay baby, be good. You might be sleeping when I get back but I’ll come tuck you in. Harry, call me if you need anything.” You kissed Layla again and made your way to the door, locking it behind you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Your date has been going extremely well. David was a handsome surgeon you had met during your ER coverage when someone came in with intensive internal bleeding, leading to an emergency surgery where David was on call. Laughs were being had, drinks were flowing easy, then your phone rang.

You saw that it was Harry so you quickly answered, “Harry, is everything alright?” You could hear Layla crying in the background, making your heart race.

“Layla has a fever and I can’t get her to calm down.”

You took a deep breath, “What’s her temperature? Did you give her some children’s Tylenol?”

“She is at 100 right now, gave her the Tylenol and put a cool cloth on her head. She’s just so inconsolable right now. She wants her mama, Y/N.”

“Can I talk to her?” Harry put the phone on speaker as he continued to rock Layla, adjusting the cloth on her forehead.

You whimpered when you heard her choked sobs, gently asking, “Baby, wants the matter?”

Layla’s cries had died down a minuscule amount but you could make out what she was saying, “I want my mama!” Your heart was breaking and you looked to David, who at this point finished his wine and looked extremely annoyed.

“It’s okay baby, I’ll be home soon, okay? I’ll be right there.” Layla settled a little more and Harry ended the call with a “see you soon”.

David paid for the bill as you began to apologize and get your stuff together. David began to walk ahead of you before saying his cold goodbye at the door. “I don’t have time to drive you home, could you catch an Uber or something?”

You scoffed at him before rolling your eyes, “Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks for dinner but don’t expect a call from me.” You pulled out your phone as David walked away so that you could request an Uber.

You had rushed into your house, which was now eerily quiet for having a sick baby girl on your hands. You walked into the house further and found Harry laying on the couch topless with Layla laying on his chest, also topless and a wet towel between them. Harry had his fingers combing through Layla’s hair as they were watching Coco.

Layla lifted her head when she heard your heels on the hardwood, looking at you and tears began to brim her eyes.

“Hi my baby, you’re not feeling good, hm?” You knelt down by the couch as you stripped off your coat and Layla was reaching for you to hold her. You held her close, feeling the warmth radiating off of her but it wasn’t a concerning temperature at this point.

Harry sat up, folding the wet towel before taking it to the bathroom, walking away and coming back still topless. Your eyes explored his torso, his high waisted trousers cover up until under his butterfly. You continued to hold and rock your little one, who was now nuzzling into your neck with her breathing slowing. Your eyes finally finished their exploring of Harry’s dips and valleys when you met his eyes, mouthing a “thank you” for taking care of your daughter.

You stood up and kicked off your heels before climbing the stairs to tuck Layla in. You placed her in your bed so that you could watch her overnight. You walked back down the stairs after leaving your door cracked and promptly went to the cupboard to pull out two wine glasses and a bottle of Syrah, popping out the cork and pouring two hefty glasses before walking to the couch where Harry now sat with his shirt on. To say you were disappointed was an understatement.

Harry took the glass and looked at how full it was before giving you a look with a cocked brow and smirk. “Not good, huh?”

You ran your hand through your hair and let out a sigh. “It was fine until you called.” Harry instantly felt guilty for calling you on your date until you spoke up again.

“I didn’t tell him I had Layla, he had told me before the date that he never wanted children. I guess that should have been a major red flag. I’ve just been so alone and desperate that I took the first thing that jumped on me.” You took a huge swig of your wine before letting out a sigh. “I probably should have asked you if you needed a ride home before I started guzzling down my feelings.”

Harry smiled at you, “It’s fine. I can get an Uber.”

You almost spilt your wine when you sat up with a mouthful, quickly swallowing it. “Mm! He didn’t even drive me home! He made me get a fucking Uber!”

“What an asshole!”

“I know! Ugh, I should just give up while I’m ahead. I’ve got the most perfect daughter, I have a great job, although exhausting. I own a house and have a happy and healthy life… I guess I just get-“

“Lonely?” Harry thought that you were preaching to the choir at this point because he felt the same exact way; he had your daughter to care for, an amazing job, he is happy and healthy because you care for him.

You let out another sigh and closed your eyes, “Yes, so lonely. I have been doing this all on my own and it can be too much. I just want someone to hold me, tell me it will be okay, that I am doing a good job.”

“You’re doing an amazing job,Y/N.”

You slowly open your eyes and look to Harry who has been watching you this whole time. You let out another sigh because you can feel him pull you in but you don’t want anything to happen, not right now anyway, not like this.

As if your daughter wasn’t already your saving grace, she cried out for you right when you felt the pull to Harry become too strong. You put your wine glass down and go to your baby.

“You’re more than welcome to stay in the guest room if you don’t feel like making your way home this late. I’m going to go to bed. Goodnight Harry.”

And with that, you walked up the stairs to be with your baby and Harry called an Uber home.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry had walked in, eager to start the day with Layla, thinking about maybe baking something and going to the art museum. When he walked into the kitchen, he wasn’t expecting to see you in a long t-shirt, bed head and bare legs with Layla on the counter eating sliced strawberries.

“Oh shit, Harry!”

“Mama! No swear!”

“Oop, sorry baby. Harry, I must have forgot to tell you that I had today off.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, I can head home so you can spend the day with Layla.”

“Or you can stay…” you were looking at him with hopeful eyes that he would agree to spend the day with you and Layla. “We would love for you to stay.”

“Yeah Harry! Please?”

The way that both of you are now giving him the eyes, he’s lucky he didn’t turn into a puddle on the floor. Harry began to peel his jacket and boots off, exposing his layered red sweater over a cream button up to match his brown and cream plaid pants, walking over to the island for Layla to pop a strawberry in his mouth. You smiled up at him as he began to help you prep the breakfast to build your own waffles.

Harry helped Layla get ready for the day, getting her in some black fleece leggings, a chambray shirt with some brown leather combat boots. Layla said she wanted mama to do her hair and that Harry shouldn’t take it personally.

Layla sprinted into your ensuite where you were finishing your simple makeup and loose curls, wearing high waisted dark skinny jeans and a cream off the shoulder sweater. You were still barefoot at this point and Harry thought that he could get used to this.

You made sure you unplugged your curling wand and moved it away from the sink so that you could sit Layla on it to do her hair. She already had white bows in her hand for you to put in her hair. You quickly did a crown braid to keep her hair out of her face and finished it off with a top knot, throwing a bow at the base of the bun. You dashed on your perfume, doing the same to Layla per her request and then threw some chapstick on the both of you before picking up Layla to place on your hip.

You looked up to Harry and asked him if he was ready to go. He swallowed that dry mouth away before giving you a nod.

You got Layla settled in her car seat, tucking your purse under her feet and gave her a kiss before you climbed into the driver's seat. Harry got comfortable in the passenger seat, looking in the mirror in the visor to look back at Layla who was ‘reading’ a book.

You looked over to Harry who was smiling in the mirror, causing you to smile before asking if everyone was ready. You stopped by a coffee shop drive through where you got Layla her hot cocoa, yourself a flat white, and Harry a black coffee. The drive to the art museum was a little ways so you let Layla pick the music for the car. You hummed along to the Disney songs until Layla was begging for you and Harry to sing, causing you both to giggle but sing along.

Harry took over when it came to the art museum, educating Layla on artists and types of paints and materials used. You followed behind letting them having their time together, warming to see Harry adore your daughter and her being excited to learn. You took a few pictures of the two of them and were reviewing them when Layla was hyper fixated on Monet’s “Sunflowers” painting. You froze at a picture of Harry knelt down with Layla between his legs and his hand on her tummy. She was pointing to a painting on the wall while Harry was looking at the camera with a beaming smile, the next one was the same pose with a softer smile and he was looking behind the camera, looking at you.

You looked up to see Layla running to you with arms open and Harry jogged close behind. Layla was talking a mile a minute about the sunflower painting as you knelt down to pick her up. You kept looking at Harry who was giggling at Layla’s gabbing and excitement while you could not focus on anything other than the way Harry’s dimples were popping and his eyes were crinkling. You shook yourself from the trance as you helped Layla get her jacket from the museum coat closet.

You decided to go out of the way to go to the cafe by the park. This would be the first time all three of you went together and you knew Layla would be excited when she saw the car pull into the parking lot.

You were right; she squealed and tried to get herself out of her car seat but Harry had beat her to it. She was in awe of the trees surrounding the lake and the cafe, all in their full bloom of fall colors. The leaves were scattered beautifully along the parking lot, leaves floating in the lake. The cafe was decorated in fall decor, preparing for the holiday season.

You requested a table by the widows facing the lake and sat Layla closest to the window so she could enjoy the view. She murmured how it looked like a painting at the museum and what paints were used in the art she was thinking of. You smiled at her before looking at Harry who was already looking at you.

Layla started to list all the colors she sees outside as the waitress approached, the same one that had eyes for Harry.

“Well, hello again.” She again was focused only on Harry, ignoring your’s and Layla’s presence. Harry had to laugh because the face you were making at that moment was identical to the one Layla had made the first time.

“I’ll let the ladies order first.” Harry nodded at you before you looked up at the waitress, giving her a sickly sweet smile. Her eyes widened when she looked at you, truly shocked by your beauty.

“Layla baby, you first.” Layla never looked away from outside, stating that she would like “hot cocoa with extra whip cream and a grilled cheese, please.” You had asked if she could get a side of veg along with her meal as you ordered a turkey club with a side salad and a cup of soup to share with Layla.

Harry had ordered his turkey burger with side salad before the waitress parted to bring a fresh pitcher of water. Layla had finally turned her attention back to you and Harry, going over her favorite parts of the museum throughout the meal. You're pretty sure she had listed everything she saw.

You made your way home, Layla falling asleep in the car. Harry had carried her up to her bed as you gathered all the dirty laundry to start a load. You sat at the table with your laptop, paying bills when Harry made his way down to you at the kitchen table. Harry let out a yawn and you pointed to the coffee maker.

“Fresh pot.” You smiled and lifted your mug to ‘cheers’ him. Harry sat across from you while you finished up on your computer and you suggested that you watch a movie or some garbage tv.

You got about halfway through the movie before you heard little feet pattering on the hardwood upstairs. Before you know it, Layla has crawled into your lap, laying her head on your shoulder while she looks at Harry with a sleeping smile.

“Good morning beautiful, sleep well?” She nodded at Harry as she nuzzled closer to you. You rubbed her back and patted her bum as you thought about what to do for dinner.

“I was thinking since we have already been bad all day, we should order some pizza.” Layla perked up at that before squeezing you tighter. You giggled as you pulled out your phone, hitting the speed dial to your favorite place.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

With full bellies and a sleepy Layla, you get the two of you ready for bed as Harry puts away the leftovers and throws the boxes away.

You walk down with a clean face, hair up, and a pair of green cotton plaid pajama pants and a white oversized T-shirt. Harry walked back in from the recycling outside to you holding a pint of ice cream and two spoons. You raised your eyebrows and giggled as Harry walked over to you. You popped open the pint and handed a spoon to Harry.

“Layla would be heartbroken if she saw you sharing with me and not her.” He smiled before popping the spoon in his mouth, letting the cream melt over his tongue.

You shrug, licking your spoon, “I don’t share my ice cream with just any one Harry.” You take another spoonful and look at Harry as you take your bite.

Harry could feel his heart racing, his mouth drying, his hands are sweaty. He can feel the word vomit in the back of his throat make its way to the tip of his tongue. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course Harry, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

You stood up straight when you saw that Harry had adjusted his own posture. He was avoiding your gaze now, looking to the spoon in his hand he was twirling while he tried to find his voice. You didn’t pressure him, you both just stood in silence.

“I’m very lucky to have had you walk into my classroom. I instantly fell in love with your daughter and I instantly fell in love with you too.” He was still avoiding your gaze but if he were to look up, he would see that your eyes have glossed and your lip is trembling, the way Layla’s does when she is trying to hold back her tears.

“I’ve known for an embarrassingly long time how I have truly felt about you but what we have is so good and I couldn’t bear to not have Layla in my life, couldn’t bear to lose you. I- Today was amazing and made me realize that it would kill me if I don’t tell you that I am completely and utterly, madly in love with you.”

Harry decided that it’s now or never to look at you, and you looked so beautiful in this moment as you do every time Harry looks at you. You may be in oversized and stained pajamas, your cheeks may be wet and flush and your lips bruised and trembling, but you are as beautiful as you are every day that Harry is graced with your presence.

You now try to find your words but you choke out a sob. Harry quickly wraps you into his arms and kisses the top of your head, holding you close. You finally catch your breath and look up to him.

“I always knew there was something there but I was too scared to find out.”

Harry wiped your cheeks with his thumbs, holding your face in his palms. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?”

You gave him the nod he was wishing for and he slowly leaned in as he pulled you closer. He was gentle in his movements, not wanting to scare you away from this moment. He planted his lips softly against yours, slowly moving so that he could incase your lower lip between his, softly sucking it between his lips. He moved closer so that your bodies were pressed together and he lowered his right hand from your cheek to your waist and his left hand to the back of your head, his fingers weaving into the hair pulled up into the bun on top of your head. He gently let his tongue graze your bottom lip before he pulled you closer and licked again with more fervor.

Your mouth opened more to let him in, just as you were opening yourself more to let him into your heart. Your hands reached out to grip at the sweater on his chest as you finally let go and let your tongue meet his. This move gives Harry the confidence and reassurance he needs as he fully licks into you to massage your tongue with his as he presses his hips to yours, pushing your lower back to the counter.

He pulls away breathless as he lays his forehead on yours, kissing your nose and rubbing the back of your head with his thumb. He goes back in to kiss you more, lifting you by your thighs to wrap around him. He carefully carries you to your room, gently laying you down on the bed as he starts to kiss down your neck, his hands massaging your thighs that are still wrapped around him. Harry pulls his sweater over his head and before you get the chance to admire him, his lips are pressed to yours. His fingers graze the waistband of your bottoms and he starts to pull them down, his soft and warm palms caressing the bare flesh of your thighs.

Harry continues to kiss the skin of your neck as you swallow down the lump that is forming in the base of your throat as you think about the next morning. “Harry, what if this changes everything?”

“Everything’s still the same, nothing changes. Except now, I get to hold you, and kiss you, and show you much I love you.”

You let out a sigh of relief as the tears begin to form that you try to blink away. Harry’s face is again level with yours, kissing your cheek. “Will you let me show you how much I love you?”

Your lip trembles as you tell him yes, never feeling loved before this moment. Harry gently kissed you and he reached for the hem of your shirt. He pulled it over your head, exposing your sports bra and he leaned on his hunches to finish pulling your bottoms off. Harry took his time, kissing every inch of you. Your stretch marks from carrying Layla, your stubbly thighs because you didn’t have time to shave your legs fully this morning, your freckles and scars. Harry truly loved every inch of you, and you could feel it.

“Can I take these off, love?” Harry’s fingers were tucked into your cotton panties when you gave him a nod. You were nervous because it had been longer than you would like to admit since you have been intimate with someone. Harry slowly peeled them down your legs, kissing a trail behind.

“Harry… it’s been a long time…”

“It’s okay, I’ll take my time with you.” He kissed your ankle as he dropped your panties to the side of the bed. “Can I start by touching you?” You nod again and you lean up to pull off your sports bra and adjust the pillow behind your head. Harry still sat on his knees between your legs to admire you. “Do you have any lube? I don’t want to hurt you or make it uncomfortable for you.”

You give him a shy smile before leaning to your side table, appreciating him for being so kind and gentle. You hand him the bottle and he pops the cap open, spreading some along his fingers as well as dripping some on your center. He placed the bottle by his leg, just in case he doesn’t have enough.

“Talk to me, okay? Let me know if it’s too much or not enough. Tell me what you need.”

“I will.” He smiled before leaning down to kiss you, hovering over you as he started to run his pointer and middle finger through your folds. You gasp at the coldness but quickly relax when you feel Harry’s fingers explore you more; spreading you open, pinching a lip or your clit between his fingers. He gave you one last lick into your mouth before leaning back again.

You opened your thighs more to accommodate him as he watched his own fingers explore you. You watched his brow furrow and he occasionally licked his lip. Your breath hitched when you felt his middle finger slowly dip in you.

“This okay?”

“Yes.” Your hips flex up involuntarily to meet Harry’s finger that he is slowly dipping and pulling out of you. His thumb slowly started rolling over your clit and you let out your first moan. It was soft, but present enough for Harry to speed up his movements a little bit, earning a louder moan from you.

“You like that baby?” Harry slowly pulled out his middle finger so that he could slide his middle and ring finger in together, giving you the stretch to need. When he got to the base of his fingers, your back arched and Harry began his come hither motion on your walls, reaching further to hit the soft sponge that you needed him to find.

“Harry, right there!” He added a little more pressure to your gspot before returning to his massaging gesture, using his other hand to figure eight your clit with his thumb. You could feel yourself on the brink of the tip over but you needed something, you just weren’t sure what it was but Harry seemed to know.

He leaned down to kiss you fully again, the pressure of his body on you caused his thumb to add more pressure to your bud and his fingers to plunge a little deeper, causing the rush to flow over you and the tingles to start in your fingers and toes. You moaned into his mouth as he continued to kiss you to keep you quiet but you pulled away to catch a breath, panting into his shoulder as he kissed your neck.

Harry began to slow his movements, pulling his hands away to massage at your thighs as he continued to kiss your neck down to your chest. You could feel him straining in his trousers on your core as he laid on you.

“Was that okay?” He continued to kiss your chest, licking your left nipple into his mouth, sucking gently and flicking the tip of his tongue across it. You rolled your hips into him, feeling the vibrations from his moan into the flesh of your breast.

“It was great, thank you.” Your hand was combing through his hair as he moved to your right breast.

“Can I make love to you?” He looked up at you, watching your soft, blissed out face turn into a gentle smile.

“I would love to make love with you, Harry.” He leaned up again to kiss you before standing to pull off his trousers. He reached for the nightstand to grab a condom, putting it on and adding some extra lube before setting the bottle aside.

“Let me know if you need me to stop or anything.” He kissed your forehead, your closed eyes, each cheek, then your nose before landing on your lips. He lined himself up to your core, all while kissing you, before gently pushing into you with a role of his hips.

With each roll and deeper kiss, he sunk deeper into you. You pulled away from the kiss trying to catch a breath, feeling dizzy from being overwhelmed emotionally and physically. Harry continued to slowly thrust into you, barely pulling out before he would roll again. He lifted a knee to lay flush with your thigh, opening you more which caused Harry to pull out more than he intended to push back into you.

You let out a moan and your head tipped back after that particular thrust, causing Harry to remove his face from your neck to look at you and repeat the same motion, over and over again. He could feel how wet you were getting, almost too wet that he was slipping out of you more, causing his thrust to be sloppy and deeper.

He lifted the thigh he had pushed up with his knee up to his shoulder, hovering over you more and looking right down at you. You look up to see Harry’s curls falling over his face, his face and chest flush, your hand moved up to move his hair so you can see him in all his beauty. You leaned up to kiss him, creating a new angle that had you both moaning.

Harry could feel himself coming undone, knowing that he had to get you there first. He let his hand travel to wear your bodies met, rolling your bud under his thumb once again. You sat up on your elbows to keep the angle you both loved as well as to stay close to Harry.

“I’m so close, don’t stop Harry.”

He leaned in to kiss you, mumbling “I love you” against your lips between kisses. “Fuck, I love you so much, Y/N.”

At that confession, your arms gave out so Harry quickly gripped you close with his free arm and rolled his hips against you until he moaned out your name and let his orgasm flood over him. He gently laid you both down, resting his head on your chest as you both embraced and caught your breath.

Harry felt your fingers stop moving in his hair and little snores escape your lips. Harry has seen that sleepy pout on your daughter more times than he could count but seeing it on you has made him the happiest man alive. Harry maneuvers himself so that you are both lying comfortably and he falls asleep with his arms wrapped around you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You wake up to find that Harry is not in bed, but all the clothes from last night are now in the hamper and there is a set of fresh clothes at the end of the bed. You can hear little giggles and a few “oops” from the kitchen. You get dressed and make your way down stairs.

Layla turns her head to you when you walk in, beaming with a “morning mama!” Leaning up to give you a kiss.

“Are you stealing chocolate chips again? Some extra sweet kisses this morning!”

Layla giggles as you press your hand a little firmer and longer on Harry’s lower back as you go for the coffee pot. You lean up to give Harry a kiss, noticing that he has been dipping into the chocolate too. Harry quickly went back in for another kiss, sweeter than the chocolate that lingers. You pull away slowly looking into Harry’s sleepy green eyes and wish him a good morning.

“Morning love, banana pancakes?”

“I’d love some.”

#stellarboystyles3years #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles one shots #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst

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1kook · 4 years ago

Text

acatalepsy

— 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 ; 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦

chapter summary; The amount of times he’s seen you stretch yourself thin for this place was unreal. Jungkook liked Oleander as much as the next person, but occasionally he’d get hit with doubts. What would they do once the entity found them? Jungkook thinks he’d run. He’d take you and run far away, leaving this whole place behind. He’ll never tell you this, though, because he knew you loved Oleander too much. And if you didn’t, the responsibilities that tied you to it would never let you abandon the people like that anyway. overall warnings; gorey scenes, depictions of death, appearance of weapons, survival!au, apocalypse!au, super l o o s e bird box!au (no birds - jk is the bird 👀), eventual smut, dark and angsty, major character death chapter specifics; nudity, mentions of masturbation, unreal levels of horniness from jungkook, mentions of death, 1 fight scene, use of weapons, jungkook abusing tf outta pet names, loads of pessimistic jungkook word count; 10k

notes; as always ty to my amazing editor rumu 🥺<333 this part isn't as dark as part one, but anyway enjoy in love but on edge jungkook lmao

part one ⇠ part two ⇢ part three (soon!)

[ twelve months later]

“Rise and shine!” Taehyung sings, ripping the flap of his tent open for the world (the base) to see, sunlight filtering in through the gap like the trickling of water over a brook. Satisfied with the disruption, Taehyung flounces off to wake another poor soul from their sleep, leaving Jungkook to fend against the rays of the sun by himself. There’s a breeze this morning, one that makes the flimsy flaps bristle with each gush of wind, sunlight roving over him in intervals that leave Jungkook groaning in annoyance.

He can only stand it for so long, eventually rolling off his sleeping bag when he hears more voices outside beginning to grunt, the pop of bones as people do their morning stretches. With a final yawn, Jungkook decides to show his face to the outside world, stumbling out of his tent with sleep crusted eyes that have him bumping into a kid first thing in the morning, a slew of apologies thrown his way.

“Sorry, Jungkook!” The group of them call, skirting off in a fit of giggles. Jungkook waves them off, stretching his arms out in front of him as he waits for Namjoon to wake up.

The man in the tent next door is usually pretty good at rising before Taehyung’s wake up call, more often than not waiting for Jungkook. Today, however, is seemingly an off day. Five minutes roll by and Jungkook's patience is as long as his pinky— short. Such is proven when he barges into the tent only to find Namjoon sprawled out like a starfish inside.

“Hey,” he says, nudging his foot against the unconscious man’s calf. “Joon, we gotta go if you wanna get the good spot by the river.” More silence. Eventually, Jungkook gets mean and leans down to pinch his side, an action that not only wakes Namjoon, but also has him squealing at the touch.

“I’m up, I’m up,” he gasps, scrambling far away from Jungkook in a frenzied rush. Only after he’s knocked over his plastic bottle and the makeshift twig drying rack he dries his clothes and towel on does he calm down. “Oh, Kook. It’s you.”

Jungkook nods, eyes struggling to stay awake. “Yes, it is I, Jungkook, who would love to take a bath before __ yells at me for being late to breakfast again.”

Namjoon grunts as he gets up, taking his towel and day clothes with him as they exit his tent. At the creek, Jungkook drops his boxers—one of the four he owns and wears on rotation—and has to endure three minutes of Seokjin catcalling him. Him and some other fellow are guarding the creek bed today, guns cradled against their chests as Jungkook, Namjoon, and a few more people crawl into the water.

When Jungkook had first arrived, the thought of bathing with so many people made him uncomfortable. His nude form wasn’t something he went around showing everyone, and now he was expected to just show it to a bunch of strangers? Even worse, the people who stood guard against the river, eyes peeled for any potential threats. It all made him very nervous.

Now Seokjin’s calculated expression as he glances over the treeline behind them comforts Jungkook. The world was weird like that.

“Holy shit,” Jungkook groans, the same way he does every other day they bathe, muscles jumping at the cold water that tickles his toes. He sighs as he walks deeper into the freezing coldness. He rinses himself off, half heartedly splashing his body with water; at its deepest it only reaches above his knee.

Namjoon is off today, probably from the extended watch they had last night, eyes scanned over the dark forest as they waited for you and some other people to return from a scavenging trip that took about three days. It was just before dawn when you returned and his replacements relieved them of their duties. When they sit down to wash their hair, he nearly falls face first into Jungkook’s knee.

Jungkook cackles at the sight, trying to pretend like his nipples aren’t freezing as he fully envelopes himself in the water. “You alright, man?” He asks, running his fingernails through his hair. A couple of the people bathing further down the creek get up and leave, dressing by the bank. He knew they were a little late today, but Jesus, were they fast or what?

Namjoon nods, and the poor guy doesn’t even have the energy to defend himself when Jungkook childishly slaps a wave of water his way. “Just tired,” he admits, beginning to wash his own hair. With most of the people finished, Seokjin lets the other guard go early, leaving just the three of them at the creek.

“Hurry it up, ladies,” Seokjin calls, and Jungkook is only a little disappointed that his splash doesn’t reach him all the way over by his perch.

Luckily, before he can retort, there’s a silkier voice drifting through his ears, one that immediately makes every hair on his body stand straight. “What are you trying to say about ladies, Seokjin?” You ask as you come up behind him, and Jungkook is immediately flooded with warmth at your early morning appearance. Seokjin flounders for an answer you pay no mind to, eyes snapping to where Jungkook is instead.

“Need you at the armory in five, Kook,” you tell him, and he wonders if you know the way your voice makes his chest pound.

Pushing those juvenile thoughts away, Jungkook quickly slaps on a goofy grin for you. “Oh? You hear that, boys? Our great leader needs some alone time with me,” he boasts, and Namjoon rolls his eyes at his antics.

“She’d rather choke than be with a pleb like you,” Seokjin snorts, finally dropping his guard stance as Namjoon and him get out of the water. “Jesus, Kook—again?” He groans, covering your eyes with his rifle as Jungkook stands up, half-hard boner and all.

He’s grown used to it, the occasional hard on he gets in the water, like he’s some superhuman who’s developed immunity to the usual effects of cold water on a hard dick. But he can’t help it, it’s been over a year since he last got his dick wet, and being disgustingly in love with a woman who didn’t know certainly didn’t help. “What’s wrong?” You frown, hand wrapping around the barrel of Seokjin’s gun that blocks your vision.

Namjoon tosses him his towel, and he’s just knotted it around his waist when you catch his eye again, unimpressed as usual. “Don’t worry about it, baby,” he teases, turning his body away from you as he shimmies his clothes on. He can still feel your glare on his exposed backside, but living in Oleander has made him comfortable in his birthday suit, so he really doesn’t mind. When he’s halfway dressed, pant legs haphazardly stuffed into the big, chunky boots Namjoon had brought back for him once, he turns around, shirt tossed over his bare shoulder, to follow you back to the base.

“And you’re requesting my presence so early in the morning, why?” He hums, toweling his hair dry as the two of you finally reach Oleander. There’s significantly more people milling about now, kids playing a game of soccer in the middle of the grounds, while others travel to and from the mess hall. There’s a wonderful scent emanating from the mess hall’s open front, and Jungkook wishes desperately you’ll lead him there instead.

You don’t, politely bidding people good morning until you reach the door to the armory, waving Jungkook in. “Needed you,” you explain, clattering around the space in search for something. The armory has gotten some pretty good upgrades in the past year he’s been here, graduating from a shabby box to full on storage container. It took a while to get it to this size, the wood working process more difficult than any of them thought, but they were all proud of it now.

Over the past year, Oleander has grown in size, a fact which causes great turmoil in Jungkook. On one hand, he’s glad he and the others have been able to save more people, take them under their wings in this scary new world. On the other, he feels like he’s always on edge.

It was a known fact that the entity was drawn to established civilizations, and with each new person that joined, Jungkook is left wondering what exactly that means. The last he heard, they were sitting somewhere near one hundred seventy. That was about one hundred more than when he first arrived. Was there some unknown number they had to avoid? Would the entity sense their presence once they reached two hundred residents, deem them an established society that needed wrecking?

He doesn’t know. They’ve been lucky enough so far, never having been caught by the entity on Oleander grounds. But other groups of scavengers hadn’t. Despite their growing numbers, they’ve lost people as well. Some they knew were caught up by neighboring bases—the Magnolians in particular, who killed on sight—and would return in groups smaller than when they were dispatched. Others never returned at all, presumably infected with the madness.

Nonetheless, Oleander continued to grow. They weren’t a spattering of tents and loose rules anymore, erecting more shabbily constructed buildings along the way. Like a privacy room for a pregnant woman they’d found and another small storage for the vegetables they began growing last fall.

Jungkook groans as he settles into a seat across from you, tugging his shirt over his shoulders. “That’s what I like to hear.”

You level him with an unamused glare, tossing a dirt-caked bullet at him. He catches it in one hand, twirls the bronzed metal between his fingers. “What happened to the quiet guy who couldn’t even look me in the eye?” You huff, pulling up a crate to sit before him.

Jungkook squints at the bullet, finally catching sight of an engraved brand name he’s almost certain they don’t have. “Life,” he murmurs absentmindedly. “Where did you get this?” He asks, finally glancing back at you.

Your arms are crossed over your chest, and he’s come to learn you do this one of two times: one when you’re feeling especially confident, unconsciously garnering everyone’s attention with such a pose, and the other when something is bothering you. Judging by the quirk of your lips, Jungkook guesses it’s the latter.

“Found it on our way back,” you relay, huffing as you recall the memory. Jungkook raises a brow at the news, gesturing for you to elaborate. “By the mouth of the creek.”

That’s a couple miles away, he thinks, sitting back in his seat in a pose that mimics yours. He and Taehyung had spent an entire day following the creek behind the base, traced it miles out until they’d reached a larger river that Jungkook only barely remembered learning about in high school geography. A river meant fish, a revelation that had excited them both after eating nothing but canned foods for the past few months. Of course, you hadn’t been as thrilled when they returned to base hours later, having left without telling anyone. He still remembers the watery sheen to your eyes as you had cursed them to hell and back.

“Our creek?” He asks, just to make sure, and you confirm with a nod. “Damn,” he scoffs, rubbing a hand over his chin in a habit he picked up from Hobi. “We gotta go check it out.”

The handful of bases they stumbled upon this past year were far and few between. Most times, you, their leader, would approach any camps you saw first and meet with their respective leader. They hardly ever interacted with you again, because there was always that looming sense of competition between survivor camps like yours.

In fact, the only group Jungkook could think of that blatantly went out of their way to cause problems was the one that had so lovingly almost beat him to death when he was at his lowest: Magnolia. It feels like a lifetime ago.

You agree. “That’s what I was thinking,” you sigh, raising to your feet. “But I don’t wanna risk anyone getting hurt if it is dangerous, y’know?”

He follows after you, leaning against a folding table he and the guys snatched off some lawn during their last scavenge. A bitch to carry back, but it was definitely worth it. “Yeah, keep it small,” he suggests, running through a list of all their active scavengers in his head. “Maybe five?”

You shake your head, nibbling your lip nervously. “Too risky. I was thinking less.”

“Less?” Jungkook chokes. “Babe, you can’t send a smaller group than that, that’s suicide.” Never mind the fact he and Taehyung had been completely okay with dallying off like that just a few months ago. Semantics Jungkook refuses to acknowledge. “Besides, I don’t think anyone would volunteer for that.”

You glance at him for a moment, and he can visibly see your brain working overtime, before you’re turning away with a determined look on your face. “Listen,” you sigh, hands flat on the table. Jungkook peers down at your twisted features. “I’m not asking anyone to volunteer,” you explain. “I’ll go.”

Jungkook scoffs. “Like hell you will,” he retorts. “And when those fuckers catch you all alone and kill you?” You don’t say a word, lower lip caught between your teeth as you glare down at the bullet.

“Then you move on,” you finally breathe. “Get a new leader. Probably move the camp.”

Jungkook could gouge his eyes out. “Babe, what,” he stresses. “No. You’re not gonna go on a mission like that alone.”

Finally turning away from whatever trance the bullet has you in, you cross your arms over your chest. “Really? And what’s stopping me?”

“Me,” he enforces, stepping into your space. “You aren’t gonna go and confront whatever psycho is out there. Baby, do you even realize how reckless that sounds?”

“I do!” You snap. “Which is why I don’t want other people going.” You step away, rub your fingers against your forehead as you lose yourself in an even deeper train of thought.

“Then I'm going too,” Jungkook announces, whirling away before you can tell him no.

A hand catches his shoulder, forcefully tugging him back around. He’s met with your wide eyes, flickering over his face in worry. “Jungkook, now’s not the time to play hero,” you plead.

He scoffs. “Could say the same to you.”

Groaning you push him away. “Please,” you huff. “Just stay here. It’s probably nothing and I’ll come back after sunset.”

“If it’s nothing then I don't see the issue with me going,” he points out. In the back of his head, he’s vaguely aware he’s volunteering himself for the very same plan he claimed no one would volunteer for just a few moments ago. It was crazy what one woman and a thundering heart could do to him. But he’d follow you on a thousand stupid missions if it meant keeping you safe. “When are we leaving?”

To prevent inciting any panic among the Oleanderians over one bullet, the only person you tell about this trip is Hoseok. Jungkook thinks it’s dumb. Actually, Jungkook thinks this whole idea is pretty dumb, and that they could benefit greatly from taking at least one more person along, even if that person was half-asleep Namjoon.

You don’t share the same sentiment as you haul a tiny bag of supplies over his shoulder, gesturing for Jungkook to get moving.

Right as the two of you step off Oleander grounds, Seokjin’s voice comes barreling around the corner. Jungkook sees the noticeable displeasure in your features as the two of you pause, watching the nurse torpedo towards the two of you. “Where are you two going?” He immediately begins interrogating. You glance at Jungkook who only glances back at you, urging you to respond to Jin. Normally, he would’ve told the guy to simply fuck off. But since this is your secret plan he wants to see what lie you’ll toss out this time.

With an indignant roll of your eyes you turn to face the older man. “I’m taking Jungkook out for some practice,” you fib, and Jungkook is a little offended you would even insinuate he needs more practice. “His knee has been hurting again so we wanna take it slow.”

It’s probably the lamest excuse you can give. Seokjin was well aware of the ache in his knee, caused by years of training on the field and torn ligaments that have long since healed over. He knows everything there is to know about Jungkook’s knee, especially the fact it only hurt after a scavenging trip, and as far as he was concerned, Jungkook hadn’t gone on a trip in the past two weeks.

“Uh huh,” Seokjin says, and Jungkook can tell he doesn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth for one second.

At this point, he’s desperate to start down the creek, prove there truly is no harm down there as you suspect, and whisk you back to the O quickly. If that means he has to put the charm on Seokjin, then that’s fine by him.

“Listen, big guy,” Jungkook steps forward, pushing you behind him. “Me and the boss are gonna get some practice,” a greasy wink he’s glad you don’t see, “if you know what I mean. So do me a solid and lay off this once?”

Jungkook’s excuse only makes Seokjin even more wary, but sensing he won’t get a serious answer out of the two of you, he backs off. “Fine,” he agrees, stepping away. He throws a glance over at you, “let me know if this sleaze tries anything with you.”

You nod, tugging Jungkook down towards the creek bed hastily. “Really? That was your best excuse?” You snap with a unbelieving look in your eye. “Another sexual joke?”

Jungkook shrugs. “What can I say? It’s my brand,” he halfheartedly defends, soon falling into step beside you as you hurry alongside the creek bed. He doesn’t see the need to rush, considering this will most likely be a long trip.

It takes about three and half hours to get to the huge river the creek trickles into. The long distance is the main reason fish hadn’t become completely integrated into the mess hall’s admittedly small menu like he and Taehyung had dreamt about. Normally he doesn’t mind the seven hours to and from if he’s with the guys, a scenic walk that’s filled with countless jokes here and there.

With you, however, every nerve in Jungkook’s body is lit ablaze, his thoughts bouncing wildly in his head as the realization he’ll get to spend the whole day with you alone dawns over him.

Despite the fact he’s known you for the past year, there’s still a lot of unknown mystery that surrounds you.

Well, not really a mystery.

Mostly just little things he wants to know about you, the woman who saved him when he was so alone and lost; the woman he feels himself growing more and more enamored with as the days go by.

From what he’s gathered, you were in a master’s program when the entity first appeared, living in a small town just outside the city. You had escaped the entity by sheer luck.

You were on a jog when it happened, you told him, headphones blasting when the calamity hit. Slowly, the world around you had crumbled, people falling victim to the madness and ending their lives before your very eyes. So terrified, you had dropped to the ground in a ball, sobbed to the soundtrack of some Top 50 playlist for hours amidst the dead bodies that littered the streets of your neighborhood. Until, eventually, the entity had left, losing your presence amongst all the death that surrounded you.

This was all something Jungkook had only learned about a few months ago, in a rare moment of vulnerability. That moment had been the only time you had ever laid your heart out like that, shared with him a piece of yourself. Ever since then, he was desperate to learn more.

Not wasting a second longer, Jungkook jumps headfirst into it. “Soooo, what’re we doing for your birthday this year?” He hums, peering down at your features.

You say nothing, eyes glancing furtively through the vast amounts of trees ahead of you for any signs of life. There’s no one out here, a fact both of you know, but he supposes it never hurts to be cautious. “You don’t know my birthday,” you remind him.

“How am I supposed to know it when you hide it away like it’s some mind blowing national secret?” He says cheekily. “I’ll tell you mine. It’s September first.”

Most men would feel discouraged by your lack of interest in the conversation, but not Jungkook. He’s grown used to your aloof exterior, finds it kind of endearing actually. After a moment, you pointedly announce, “Jungkook, I haven’t known what day it is for months now... birthdays practically mean nothing to me.”

“It’s June second,” he says right away, and his confidence surprises you if the way you pause is any indication. He stops beside you, tilts his head at your reluctant gaze.

“How would you know that?” You ask in disbelief, one hand on your hip. The semi-automatic pistol you have strapped to your waist bounces against your thigh. “We haven’t seen a calendar in months, and if we did, we wouldn’t even know what day it was.”

Jungkook shrugs. “It’s mostly just a guess,” he admits, pointing at a patch of pink flowers sprouting near the water. “Oleanders usually bloom at the end of spring. I’m surprised you didn’t know considering you named your little campgrounds after them,” he playfully jabs, crossing his arms over his chest as your eyes trail over toward the pink flowers beside your foot.

His heart falls straight out of his ass when you begin crouching down, fingers outstretched towards the flora. “They’re poisonous, you idiot,” he scolds, yanking you up by the elbow.

Jungkook can count on one hand the moments he’s truly left you flustered, and part of him is a little disappointed that it’s some stupid death flowers that make it onto the list. But your lips are adorably puckered, gaze flickering away from him in embarrassment at your slip up, and Jungkook can’t believe the hammering of his heart. “Oh,” you murmur, and then, impossibly quieter, “sorry.”

He sighs, quiets the thumping in his chest. After a moment, he throws a hand over your shoulders, guiding you back down the creek as if your little moment of stupidity didn’t just happen. “Wow, our brave leader sure is a dummy,” he exclaims, nearly faints at the small smile you hide from him.

“Shut up,” you retort, but there’s no malice in your words and you don’t push Jungkook’s arms away. “I’m bad at remembering which ones are harmful, okay? That’s more down Hoseok’s lane.” It certainly was down Hobi’s lane, considering the man had run a floral business prior to this catastrophe. Jungkook knows he’s the one who gave Oleander its name, at first just as a warning for the younger kids to avoid the flower, but it never hurts to tease you about it.

It’s little things like this that he treasures between the two of you, moments that nestle their way into the cracks of his heart. Not that you’ll ever understand.

The walk to the river ends up being shorter than he remembers, and after a few hours of bantering the tinkling trickle of the creek is replaced with the rapid currents ahead. “Where was it?” He asks, all traces of glee wiped from his face as he keeps his eyes focused on the tree line. He hears your telltale shuffling behind him as you retrace your steps, calculated steps that suddenly come to a halt. “Babe?” He calls out after a moment.

There’s a soft breeze in the air that ruffles his hair. It’s not the gust of wind that precedes the entity, but it still sets Jungkook on edge, hand reaching for his rifle.

A scuffle behind him causes him to whirl around, gun out and pointed at whatever made the sound, only to find you with a gun pressed to your temple. Jungkook swears.

Some guy he’s never seen before holds you captive, gloved palm pressed over your mouth uncomfortably, your hand clutching at his wrist. Jungkook takes comfort in the fact you at least put up a fight, matching the barrel against your forehead with a pistol to the guy’s neck. All in all, it’s pretty even on both ends. Well, not completely, Jungkook thinks, finger tightening on the trigger.

Before he can so much as think, there’s something prodding against his lower back, a low voice purring, “drop it, lover boy,” against his ear.

Knowing when he’s been outdone, Jungkook lowers his arms with a frustrated sigh, letting the guy that snuck up behind him tug the sack you carefully prepared off his shoulders and dump it onto the ground. He catches your gaze, dark eyes seeming to convey a message he doesn’t understand, not the least bit bothered by the man holding you at gunpoint. “Anything good?” The one holding you asks.

The one behind Jungkook steadies the weapon pressed to his back, nudges through the pile on the floor with his foot. “Some snacks, but nothing long lasting.”

The dark haired one cusses, tightening his hold on you. Jungkook wants nothing more than to lunge forward, tear the guy apart for laying his dirty hands on you. “Hey, lover boy,” he barks, and Jungkook’s glare only intensifies. “Where’d you find this stuff?”

Jungkook snorts. “I’m not telling you shit,” he spits, much to their dismay, and Jungkook groans when the one behind him slams the butt of his weapon against the back of his skull, sending him onto his knees. Another flurry of movement, and when his vision clears back up you’ve got your pistol pointed at the man behind Jungkook this time, leaving yourself completely defenseless against your captor. Jungkook curses at your recklessness.

Just once he wants you to put yourself first, value your life the same way he does. Now the both of you are left vulnerable, held at gunpoint by two men presumably from another camp.

“Well,” his attacker leers, “you sure managed to find yourself a good girl out here, huh?”

The second the words leave his mouth Jungkook knows they’re in for a show.

If there was one thing you hated more than anything in this fucked up world, it was being reduced to a man’s accessory. Anyone in Oleander could rave about how great you were—hell, Jungkook did it every chance he got. A lot of the Oleanderians held a lot of respect for you. You were their leader, a title they had pushed onto you until you accepted. To have your grueling efforts, your hard work, brushed aside because of your appearance enraged you like no other.

Just as he predicted, the flame in your gaze grows tenfold, the strength you’d been hiding coming out of the container you usually locked it up in. Your body moves swiftly, knocking back forcefully into your captor before leaning forward, using the hand on his wrist to haul him over your shoulder like a sumo wrestler. Neither of them see it coming, and in his shock, the dark haired one pulls his trigger, a bullet shooting into the ground with a loud crack.

The sound startles Jungkook and the other man but Jungkook capitalizes on their shock first, whirling around to meet the guy’s face for the first time, greeting him with a clenched fist. The intensity of his punch leaves the man recoiling, blindly stumbling back as Jungkook pushes on. When the man falls back, bloody nose and all, Jungkook reaches for his weapon, only to find a steel pipe in its place. Fuck, who were these conmen?

Eventually Jungkook corners him against the base of a tree, fuming at the fact these idiots had fooled him with empty threats, tricked him into thinking he was seriously in danger with a fucking scrap of metal.

Despite the way they had stealthily crept up on the two of you, these guys have neither the experience nor support to successfully pull off a stunt like this. This much is evident when he glances back and finds you wrestling the other guy’s arms behind his back. Following your example, he hauls his attacker up by the collar of his shirt, slamming him against the tree. “Who are you with?” He hisses, watching the guy squirm in his hold. “Who the fuck are you with?” He repeats, and the guy finally breaks.

“No one! No one. It’s just the two of us, me and Yoongi, no one else,” he rambles, and Jungkook glances back at you. You were significantly better than him at detecting lies, and one solemn nod from you has him releasing his grip, angrily kicking the damn piece of tubing far into the distance.

“So you’re strays,” you announce a few moments later, arms crossed over your chest in that famous power stance, eyes scanning over the figures of the two men Jungkook had pushed to their knees in front of you.

“Yes,” Jimin, the one who had originally attacked Jungkook, confirms. “It’s been just us two for a few months now.”

You let his answer sit for a few beats. “Where did you get this gun? This is the same one the Magnolia carry,” you state, and Jungkook wants to laugh at your stern approach, because just minutes ago you were fighting off a smile at his fourth knock knock joke. Instead, he schools his expression, gathering their things back into the sack Jimin had so lovingly dumped earlier.

Yoongi sighs, and Jungkook is extra wary of him, because it seems he is the one who orchestrated their little attack. “We attacked two of them. Took the gun and some other things before they could call for help. We’ve only had it for a few weeks now,” he confesses.

Jungkook snorts. These guys sure were brave, he thinks. One measly gun and they became bold enough to pull a stunt like this. If it were up to him he’d take their admittedly small resources and throw them back out into the forest with nothing for their half-assed efforts.

Sadly, it’s not. He watches you mull over their responses, can practically hear the invitation sitting on the tip of your tongue. It’s not the first time he’s found himself in a situation like this with you, your overwhelming need to invite nearly every stray you stumbled upon back to the O. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you turn someone away.

Briefly he wonders if you had the same doubts as him. How many people constituted a functional society? They’d never know until the day the entity shows up. Until then, he knows you’ll keep taking strays in.

As predicted, the offer appears. “We have a place,” you begin, and Jungkook’s eyes can’t roll far back enough. Leave it to you to invite these half-assed clowns back to Oleander.

Silently, Jungkook walks off to sulk elsewhere, still mad that he’d let some idiot take advantage of his lack of sight to trick him into believing he had a gun to his back.

Later, when you’re wrapping up your extensive history of Oleander to these two strangers, you wander back towards where Jungkook’s been leaning against a tree. The two men follow behind tentatively, and you gesture for them to start up the creek bed, pointing toward the general direction of Oleander.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare, one you have no problem returning. “Really?” He drawls. “Inviting back the guys who tried to kill you?”

You ignore him, falling into step a few meters behind the two men. Jungkook follows. “They don’t have anywhere else to go,” you mention. “Besides, they’re not dangerous.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Babe, these guys were willing to kill you over a bag of granola bars and water,” he emphasizes, throwing a glance their way. “You think they won’t try that at the O?”

You shrug. Jungkook could strangle you.

“Kook, one of them had a pipe. He can’t really kill you with that,” you remind him, as if he isn’t embarrassed enough. “They’re obviously smart guys,” you add, your arm brushing against his. “It wouldn’t hurt to have people who can think like that back at Oleander.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I can get creative, too, y’know,” he huffs.

His childishness makes you snort, a small hand patting the small of his back comfortingly. “I know you can,” you smile. “But for every smart Kook idea, I have ten dumb Namjoon ideas. It would help to have someone else to balance them out.”

Placated, Jungkook lets it go. “I just want you to be careful, babe,” he murmurs, watching the two men ahead of him with caution.

Nodding along to his concern, you call out to the men to carry on left when you reach a break in the creek. “I know, and I’m always grateful to you for that,” you reply, the hand on his back drawing soothing circles. He hates how easily you can calm him down. “Just please trust in my decisions this once.”

It’s a cruel jab that makes his heart ache.

Jungkook doesn’t want you to think he questions your decisions as their leader, even if sometimes he does. He knows how stressful it is for you to have all these people depending on you, so he’ll never tell you you’re doing a bad job. Still, you have your moments where you’re a little too reckless, a little too careless.

Like today. If you had come out alone, Jungkook doesn’t know what these men would have done to you. He doesn’t like when you make decisions like that, sacrifice yourself for others like that, but he also doesn’t want to make you think you’re a bad leader, because you’re not. Just a little dumb sometimes.

Jungkook says nothing, sensing this is a losing battle. They trek back to Oleander in relative silence, a three hour walk that ends a little past sunset.

Jimin and Yoongi get the same golden welcome as every new person does at Oleander, with Hoseok cheerily showing them around the grounds and letting Seokjin check over their health. It’s the exact same process Jungkook went through when he first came here, and perhaps that’s why he feels so put off by the way you skirt around your discovery of them when Hoseok asks. You lie and say you found them on the way back from your training, not mentioning the fact they attacked you.

They end up moving into Namjoon’s tent, with Namjoon moving in with Jungkook. He doesn’t seem the least bit critical of Jimin and Yoongi, and Jungkook guesses no one besides him ever will.

With summer upon them, the seeds they planted last fall sprout beautifully. The chefs at the mess hall serve the most organic pizza Jungkook’s ever had, made in the clay oven Namjoon spent hours on last fall. He eats and leaves right away, ignoring his friends’ confused expressions when he skips out on their evening gossip session at the hall.

The tent feels smaller with Namjoon’s sleeping bag squeezed inside, his casual clothes and Jungkook’s blue tracksuit pushed against the opposite end of the tent.

He wonders how he’s supposed to jack himself off now that he doesn’t have his own private space. The longer he thinks, he realizes this current moment might be the last semblance of privacy he ever has, and scrambles to take advantage of the opportunity. His hand has just unbuckled his belt, the zipper on his pants halfway down, when you suddenly appear unannounced.

“Holy shit,” he yelps, covering his crotch with his hands. You pay him no attention, eyes flickering over the newly remodeled space. “Can you knock?!”

“Jungkook,” you say, dropping down to sit beside him on the ground. He hurries to close the front of his pants. “Are you upset with me?”

“No,” he drones, his last peaceful masturbation session slipping between his fingers. “I was actually quite horny before you broke in and gave me a heart attack.”

You frown, glancing at the front of his pants as if you’re just realizing you interrupted a very precious moment of his. “I didn’t realize,” you mumble apologetically, but Jungkook waves you off quickly.

“Forget it,” he sighs, leaning back on his palms. “What’s up with you, doll?” He asks instead, suddenly aware of the worried pinch between your brows, lips downturned as you regard him.

“Nothing,” you assure him, hands cutely folded into your lap. In another life, in another universe, he imagines you would have sat like that on a first date, fingers nervously fiddling with each other. “It’s just…” you hesitate, something he rarely sees you do. “I get the feeling you’re still upset with me for bringing Jimin and Yoongi back to Oleander,” you confess. “You skipped out on dessert.”

Frankly, he is.

Despite the talk you shared on the way back, Jungkook can’t help but feel bringing those two back was a bad idea.

Sure, they’ve encountered and invited other strays who’d reacted in similar states of distress, refusing to believe that sane, kind people still existed after the appearance of the entity. They’d lash out, hiss at Jungkook and the rest, until they reached a point in which they could calmly talk it through. People lose themselves after being in solitude for so long. Jungkook had only been alone for a little less than a month, and even then he remembers being terrified of you and the others.

But never had a stray pointed a gun at them, at you, and that’s what bothers Jungkook the most.

Part of him worries these guys aren’t the strays they claim to be, but masked members of another survivor camp here to take them over, kill them off. Realistically, they’re baseless worries. One of them is thin beyond belief, and the other had told them their whole life story the second they arrived back at the O. They don’t have that killer aura that the Magnolians have, and Jungkook wants to believe they by no means have the expertise to be specially trained assassins.

If anything, they’re just really cunning strays who happened to draw a lucky card when they got that gun.

On top of that uncertainty was the worry that stemmed from your actions both today and for the past year if he’s being honest.

He’s never questioned your motives for bringing someone back to the haven before, usually trusting in you to do what’s right. After all, Jungkook was hardly the poster boy of moral decisions, so he always left that up to you.

That being said, he feels… disappointed by your lack of logical thinking today. He understands that Yoongi and Jimin are just doing what they can to get by, something he would’ve done too if he was alone. But Jungkook isn’t as forgiving and empathetic as you, which is probably why he feels like this.

“I don’t think it was a good idea,” he admits, listening to the quiet inhale you draw in at his admission. “I get that they’re strays and all… I just think you need to be more careful.” It’s rich coming from him, probably the least cautious person at the base.

You nod, the same understanding one you’d given him on the trip back.

Jungkook knew you had a tender heart. You and Hoseok both did, hence the reason you established Oleander in the first place. Admittedly, Hoseok is even worse than you, which is the main reason he doesn’t go out on scavenging trips, choosing to keep watch over the people they already have.

Before you can reiterate your reasoning from the afternoon, Jungkook cuts you off. He catches your hand, turns it over to knot your fingers with his. “Babe, I need you to take care of yourself first,” he says, watches the befuddled expression that crosses your features.

You blink. “I do?” You defend, and it’s so weak Jungkook could cry.

He sighs, squeezes your hand in his. “You don’t,” he feels a little weird explaining the state of your thoughts to, well, you. “I get that you wanna keep everyone here safe, but what about yourself?”

You say nothing. The quiet bustling of the base outside fills the silence between you.

Jungkook looks away first, choosing to stare a hole into the tent walls before him. “I know you have this huge responsibility on you and that it’s a lot of pressure, __,” he murmurs quietly. “But it’s okay to ask for help, y’know?”

Beside him, your knees curl up into your chest, chin resting on them. You don’t let go of his hand, so he takes it as a sign to continue.

“What’s happening is scary,” he admits. “But you’re not going through this alone. I want you to tell me when things become too much for you,” he emphasizes.

The amount of times he’s seen you stretch yourself thin for this place was unreal. Jungkook liked Oleander as much as the next person, but occasionally he’d get hit with doubts. What would they do once the entity found them? Jungkook thinks he’d run. He’d take you and run far away, leaving this whole place behind. He’ll never tell you this, though, because he knew you loved Oleander too much. And if you didn’t, the responsibilities that tied you to it would never let you abandon the people like that anyway.

From between his fingers, he can feel your hand trembling. His heart throbs painfully in his chest. Jungkook wishes he could freeze this moment in time, keep the two of you inside this tent away from the crumbling world around you. In another life, in another universe, he reminds himself.

Eventually you let out a shaky exhale, eyes burning into the side of Jungkook’s face until he returns your gaze. Ever so quietly, you murmur, “Kook, I’m so scared.”

It’s the quietness of your confession, like you’re afraid admitting as much will lessen your credibility, that has him leaning forward, forehead knocking against yours gently.

“Oh, baby,” he frowns, doesn’t say a word when you throw yourself into his arms. Your face finds its home buried in the front of his shirt, shoulders shaking. He rubs your back soothingly, the same way you do to him every time he’s riled up, listening to the quiet sniffles that escape you.

“I don’t want people to get hurt,” you cry, your voice small and muffled against the front of his shirt.

His heart falters in his chest, suddenly realizing how small you are curled up in his arms. He can’t even begin to imagine the expression on your face, one you still hide from him, but he guesses it’s nothing less than glossy eyes and puffy face.

For the second time in the past year Jungkook’s known you, he gets a peek into your frail interior. A brief glance to see the woman who had watched the world around her crumble, all alone amidst wave after wave of deaths.

The city had been a horrible sight to see, but at least there he’d been comforted by the fact he was with a group of people he’d known and escaped with. It had been the first of many instances. For you, he can’t even fathom how you managed to pull yourself from the wreckage, maintain yourself until you found Hoseok.

“I’m sorry,” you choke, voice but a thin whisper he barely catches. He brushes you off, leaning his chin on the crown of your head as he continues to rub your back.

Eventually, you calm down.

The trembling of your body slows, and your muted cries disappear. When you lean away, Jungkook keeps his hands on your shoulders. Your eyes are still coated in a thin sheen of tears, the skin around flushed. Jungkook runs a knuckle along your cheekbone, following a faint trail of tears.

You rub the heel of your hand against your eye as you regain your composure. You don’t meet his eyes, but Jungkook doesn’t push. “Thank you, Jungkook,” you tell him, sniffling one last time. “I… really needed that.”

“Of course,” he murmurs, suddenly aware of how close you are. He could lean in and kiss you, but he doesn’t want you to think he’s taking advantage of your emotions. So he doesn’t.

You pat his cheek gently. He leans into the touch, eyes flickering over your bashful expression. “You were amazing today, Kook,” you quietly praise, and he’s never felt this light before. His cheeks flush red, the warmth slowly creeping up his face at your compliment.

Something in Jungkook has him leaning forward, puckered lips pressing against your temple. It’s only when his plush lips meet the skin of your forehead that he suddenly becomes aware of his actions. He stills, tries to find the perfect moment to pull away that will still make it seem friendly.

When his brain has dipped itself into frying oil three times over, it’s you who leans back with a soft smile on your features. You pat his knee once before standing up. “Actually, I heard something interesting today,” you mention, completely ignoring the redness of his face. “Follow me?”

“Anywhere,” he murmurs as he trails after you, passing the rowdy mess hall and the occasional group wandering about the grounds. Eventually you lead him into Seokjin’s medical tent, where Namjoon seems to be interrogating the hell out of Jimin. “What’s going on?” he asks, gaining everyone’s attention, and you motion towards where Jimin is babbling away.

“There they are,” Seokjin claps, “two experiments from the same lab.”

Jungkook flicks him on the forehead as he walks in, ignoring the sharp calling of his name coming from your mouth. “Not a lab experiment,” he defends, not that Seokjin cares. He squeezes around Jin, coming to stand beside Namjoon. Jimin is very quiet in his presence, probably still reflecting on their first meeting. Good, Jungkook thinks, he could drown in his guilt for all he cares.

“This guy says he knows where the new Magnolian base is set up,” Namjoon fills him in, eyeing Jimin. Jungkook doesn’t doubt it, after all, that’s apparently where they got their weapons from. Not that anyone besides you and Jungkook know that. “You believe him?”

Jungkook shrugs. He doesn’t know what to say, because none of you really suspected anyone would ask about Jimin and Yoongi’s origins after the lame story you had made up earlier. Jimin, it seems, is more of a chatterbox than he thought.

“I’m telling you, man,” he whines. “Me and Yoongs saw the damn camp. That’s where we—“

“-Were running from,” you intercept. Jungkook rolls his eyes at your feeble attempts at keeping a secret that was inevitably going to be found out. “Jimin and Yoongi were running from there when we found them.”

Jimin nods frantically. “It’s about twenty miles from here.”

Namjoon nods along, looking deep in thought as he ponders on what exactly that means for Oleander.

Jungkook can help. Basically, it means this: Magnolia setting up a camp in close range of Oleander can only be a result of one of two things:

Either they, A, are unaware that Oleander is in close range and most likely settled due to the various water sources around this area. When they eventually find its current inhabitants, they’ll undoubtedly attack on sight.

Or B, they have caught wind of Oleander’s presence here and have promptly come to, you guessed it, kill them all off just because they can. In both scenarios, Oleander remains at great risk, and everyone in the tent knows this.

“So now what?” He says more than asks, sensing they’ve all more or less reached the same conclusion.

Your foot taps against the ground, lower lip pulled taut between your teeth as you work through a dozen plans in your head.

Namjoon, ever the “wise man”, jumps to the forefront. “We have to do something about their base,” he says.

Jungkook laughs at that, plopping down beside Jimin. “Yeah, let’s just go run up on some psychos with no moral compass and kill them before they kill us. Except, wait—“ he exclaims with a little staged gasp, before leveling Namjoon with the most bored stare he can muster. “None of us have the guts to kill someone.”

Namjoon is very obviously flustered by Jungkook’s dry jab, looking at you to defend him. Jungkook simply brushes off the disapproving frown you send him.

“And when they realize we won’t kill them, guess what, guys?” he asks no one in particular, mimes someone breaking his neck. “We’re dead.”

Silence falls over the medical tent at his blunt descriptions.

Jungkook knows he’s being annoyingly pessimistic, but he can’t help it. His first encounter with Magnolia had left him bleeding at the mouth, body aching for weeks. Occasionally, he has nightmares about that day, about what would happen if you and your friends hadn’t shown up. In most of them, Jungkook’s mind conjures up violent scenes of his death.

You suck in a sharp breath that catches everyone’s attention. Straightening your spine, you step back into the middle of the space, hands on your hips like a superhero. “As much as I hate to admit it, Jungkook is right.” He grins in satisfaction. “Even if they’re not part of our community, I’m sure having too many people congregated in the same area will draw the Thing‘s attention.” Finally, some logical thinking. “But,” you suddenly add, snatching that cocky smirk straight off his face. “That being said, I think it’s best if we look for ways to—“

“No,” he cuts off, surprising everyone in the room with his curt tone. He never outwardly disagreed with you before, always hyped up your ideas like you were the greatest person alive. You were in his eyes, but there was some plans even Jungkook thought were stupid. And given the fact this would be your second stupid plan of the day, he’s more than happy to go against you in front of the others. “It’s stupid.”

“Hey,” Seokjin chides, leveling him with a cold glare he hasn’t seen in a while. “Let her speak.”

“No,” Jungkook repeats, turning his attention back to you. You don’t look the slightest bit pleased with him, and he already knows this will lead to days of you ignoring him like the time he and some of the guys snuck down to the creek after curfew one night. “Baby, going there is reckless—you know this,” he emphasizes, can’t help the gentle way he explains this to you like you’re nothing but a child.

“You haven’t even heard my idea,” you snap angrily. It takes every nerve in Jungkook’s body to keep him from crumbling beneath your hardened gaze. He hates when you look at him like that. “You won’t even let me say what I’m thinking, but you already think it’s stupid.”

“Because it is!” he yells, startling the other men in the tent. “Someone could get seriously hurt, and you know this,” he seethes, suddenly feeling like that whole heart-to-heart moment at his tent meant nothing to you. He deflates, rubs at his temples as if to rid him of the headache pounding behind his skull. “Doll, these are the Magnolians,” he murmurs. “They won’t just threaten you with a gun like Yoongi and Jimin, they will kill you on the spot.”

There’s a shared look of surprise between Seokjin and Namjoon at the news, and Jimin shifts nervously beside him. Jungkook could care less about his slip up, too engrossed in the way your lips pinch up indignantly.

“Fine,” you sneer. “Whatever we do, I’ll make sure to leave you off the list.” And with that, you’re exiting the tent with an angry tug against the door flaps.

A beat of silence as they all stare after you in shock. Jungkook has never been left off the list of scavengers.

“Kook,” Seokjin goes to soothe him, but he's already slipping out of the tent, eyes wildly scanning over the dark perimeter of the base in search of you. He finds you stomping in the direction of your tent, a small thing pressed against the side of the armory.

The ache in his knee be damned as he sprints across the clearing, narrowly avoiding the people who are still out. He catches you just as you duck inside, tearing the flap of your tent wide open.

You jump in surprise, but quickly pull on an expression of annoyance as he towers over you, arms crossing over your chest defensively.

“What did you say?” he seethes, letting the flap fall shut behind him, shrouding the two of you in darkness.

“I said you’re off the list,” you snap without missing a beat, anger rolling off you in waves. “Since you hate my ideas so much, your ass can stay here.”

Jungkook exhales loud and hard, stepping closer to you until you’re nose to nose. “I’m not off the fucking list,” he announces, jaw twitching. You go to retort, pushing him away with a palm flat on his chest that he catches in a flash, tugging you forward until you’re stumbling into his chest. You gape in shock at the hand that tightens around your waist, Jungkook’s steely eyes aiming to pierce into your soul. “If you wanna be stupid and break into the Magnolia base that’s fine by me,” he hisses, “but don’t think for a second I’d ever let you go without me, understood?”

You struggle in his arms. “I never said I wanted that,” you snarl, pushing yourself off and away from him. “But you wouldn’t know that because you wouldn’t even listen to me.”

Jungkook’s arms tighten around your waist, refusing to let you run straight into the hands of danger. “Maybe I would listen if you weren’t always trying to off yourself,” he barks, narrowly avoiding your elbow when you begin flailing in his arms.

“Jungkook— let me go!” you huff, growing more upset the longer he holds on to you. “I don’t wanna talk to you right now.”

He ignores you.

But he greatly underestimated your strength, which ends up being a huge mistake. He had watched you toss Yoongi over your shoulder just this afternoon, so he should’ve known better than anyone about the adrenaline-fueled feats you can do when you’re riled up.

You still, deluding him into thinking you’ve calmed down enough for him to loosen his grip. It’s in that tiny moment of weakness that you strike, wrapping your arms around his waist and throwing the two of you to the side. Luckily, you’re not blinded by fury enough to destroy your own tent, and end up slamming him against the wooden wall of the armory that sits flush to one side of your tent.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, the intensity of the push having a bounce back effect. He staggers forward, arms still around your waist, until the both of you stumble into the ground in a mess of limbs. You yelp at the heavy weight of his body on you, and Jungkook only has half a mind to roll off. “Oh fuck,” he groans, rubbing the back of his head.

The way you’d surged the two of you, him backwards, into the wall had left him vastly unprepared, skull slamming painfully into the wood. That on top of the good thwack Jimin had given him earlier with the pipe had his vision spotting now.

“Jungkook?” you call, shuffling to your knees over him, all traces of anger gone as worry floods over you.”Jungkook, oh my god,” you choke, sitting him up slowly, but given the fragile state of his head it seems fast anyway. The movement makes his head spin like a carousel. He’ll definitely need to see Seokjin for this. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t think you’d hit your head,” you cry, fluttering around your tent for something to give him. “Here, drink this,” you intrude, thrusting a water bottle into his hand.

He takes it in one hand, rolling his head around once. “Shit, babe, calm down. I’m not dying,” he cracks, though it ends in a groan. He definitely needed to sleep this off.

His joke only makes you more upset, and you lean forward to brush his hair from his face until your beautifully bothered expression is looking down over him. “No,” you groan, “please don’t try to make me feel better. That was a horrible thing for me to do.”

You tug him to his feet, Jungkook wincing at the sudden motion. “Yeah, that was pretty shitty,” he agrees, letting you throw an arm over your shoulders as you guide him out of the tent.

In all honesty the pain had subsided the second he’d sat up. Now he was just left with a slight pounding behind his temples, like a headache on steroids, but he played soccer his whole life; he knows when an injury was serious. This just seems like a mild concussion at most.

Still, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to milk every second of this. He leans into your side, your arm tightening around his waist.

“You know what’s even more shitty, though?” he prompts. You hum, more concerned with getting him to the safety of his tent. The base is mostly silent now, and the forest surrounding the camp is eerily dark. All the squirrels and rabbits they see during the day have gone to sleep, the only sound being that of the occasional owl hoot. The only people Jungkook sees are the ones on night duty sporadically standing around the perimeter of Oleander. Jungkook doesn’t answer right away, lets you sit in suspense, before announcing, “leaving someone off the list.”

You groan, finally stopping inside his tent. Upon getting closer, he’s reminded of his new roommate waiting for him inside, loud snores surely keeping everyone in a twenty foot radius awake. “I’m sorry,” you frown, moving to stand in front of him. The weight of your apology feels like you’re sorry for multiple things at once. Normally he would press, but you look like you’re about to cry just from upsetting Jungkook. For some reason he gets some twisted excitement from seeing you so torn up over him.

He shakes his head, lets the hair you pushed off his forehead fall back into place. “Don’t worry about it,” he assures you, reaching up to cup the side of your face like you did to him earlier. You lean into the touch, covering his hand with your own. Jungkook’s heart swells.

How could such a pretty little thing be this reckless? he thinks, watching the lashes that tickle your skin with every blink. “Go to bed, doll,” he commands, and you nod cutely, like a bobblehead. “Be stupid again tomorrow.”

He’s rewarded with a soft kick against his shin, a tiny smile curling around your features. “Okay,” you concede, fingers tracing over his knuckles as he finally pulls away. You watch him get into his tent, stay put until he’s glancing at you through the flaps to get moving. “Goodnight, Jungkook,” you make sure to say, waving goodbye as you begin walking back in the direction you came from.

It would’ve been the perfect night, mild concussion and all, if he had been able to truly savor your expressions that day. Instead, he goes to bed with a half hard cock and a snoring bear beside him.

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fic #jjk smut #mine #ahHHHHHHH!!!!!

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songtoyou · 4 years ago

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Epiphany - Part One

Paring: Luke Crain x Female Reader

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2,204

Warnings: Talks of drug use and recovery, mention death of a family member.

Description: Life has never been easy for Luke Crain. After the death of Nell, Luke realizes that he needs to make some changes. He decided to stay in Massachusetts and attend rehab. He was determined to remain on his path of sobriety. When you get assigned to be Luke’s sponsor, it opens a new door of possibilities that neither you nor Luke expected.

A/N: I finally watched the Haunting of Hill House a while back. I found Luke to be very interesting. This is my take on how Luke would go on with life after Nell’s death and how his continued path to remain sober would look like.

I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Updated: Cleaned up for grammar and punctuation errors.

An epiphany is when a sudden and intuitive perception of insight into reality. It can provide a great moment of revelation and present itself as symbolic insight. Some people experience it while others often search for it.

Life was not easy for Luke Crain or his siblings. After the recent events of Hill House, Luke was scared of a life without his twin sister, Nell. Despite Luke being ninety seconds older, he always felt that Nell was his big sister. She was his protector. The only person to believe in him when others constantly sowed doubt. Unfortunately, Hill House ended up taking Nell in the end, along with his father Hugh. Luke was scared. More scared than he had ever been now that Nell was gone.

However, Luke was determined to get clean. To remain clean. He had to do it, not only for Nell but for himself. Both Steve and Theo pitched in to help pay for a good rehab center for Luke to stay. At first, Luke told them, no, but it was Theo who adamantly expressed her desire to support him.

“Luke, you have made it to 90-days. I can tell you want to remain clean. We all see it. Nell still believes in you and so do we. I want to be supportive of you because you’re my little brother and I love you,” said Theo.

With the support and help of his siblings, Luke decided to stay in Massachusetts for treatment. He took up residence with Shirley in the guest house since Theo decided to move out to live on her own. Despite her worries, Shirley believed in her little brother and his determination to remain clean. One could say it was her way to make amends for the guilt she held by not allowing Luke to attend Nell’s wedding.

It was actually Shirley’s husband Kevin, who recommended Banyan Treatment Center in Wilmington, Massachusetts. “One of my sisters went there for her alcohol addiction. She responded well to the program and has continued to stay sober for two-years. Banyan has a good family counseling program, along with outpatient therapy. Pretty much will have everything you need to continue your path for sobriety,” said Kevin one night after dinner.

It did not take long for Steve and Theo to be on board with Luke deciding on Banyan. Both liked what they read of the place. The treatment center was not uber fancy, like the one Shirley paid for all those years ago but also was a tad upscale compared to the rehab center in Los Angeles Luke recently attended.

The therapists and case managers at Banyan were nice and friendly. Rob, Luke’s primary therapist, helped ease him into a routine. Even though Luke was now over 90 days sober, Rob recommended intensive outpatient therapy every day for an hour session. Luke admitted to Rob, along with his siblings, that he was worried about relapsing due to Nell and Hugh’s deaths. He did not want to fall back into old and dangerous habits.

For 30 days, Luke was committed to his intensive outpatient therapy. Talking over his childhood trauma at Hill House and the recent events helped, not only explain his phobias but also tackle his post-traumatic stress. Hill House had a long-lasting effect that damaged his entire family. So much so, that all he wanted to be was numb. To not have to deal with the images in his mind or how the loss of his mother disturbed him.

When Luke “graduated” from intensive outpatient therapy to regular outpatient therapy, Rob recommended a sponsor for him. The Center’s alumni recovery program allowed for past patients who have succeeded in their program to help mentor those currently in the early stages of detox, treatment, and recovery. Having a strong and influential network of sober peers can make all of the difference between an addict relapsing or staying strong through hard times.

That is how you came into Luke Crain’s life. Rob recommended you to Luke as a sponsor. You had just celebrated your third anniversary of recovery. It was not that you had a bad childhood as the reason you turned to drugs. You were not abused, both of your parents were still alive, nor had you experienced any other forms of childhood trauma. Similar to Luke, heroin was your choice of escapism; the way to ease the feeling of pain and suffering. Not your own, but other peoples’.

That was the downside of being an empath.

Of course, no one believed you about being an empath. Your mother had always referred to you as an overly sensitive child and that stress was not something you handled very well. When having to deal with the ability to sense what people are feeling, whether the emotions are happy, sad, scared, stressed, disturbed, or angry, can be a lot for a person to handle. There came a time when taking on the pain of others became too much. You no longer wanted that burden. You no longer wanted to feel anything.

It did not matter how many rehab facilities your parents sent you to or how many times they pleaded; you did not care. For once, you put yourself first. Heroin helped you stop feeling. Helped you feel numb and content. You were happy. Of course, when the high wore off, as it always does, you were back to reality. You hated reality.

The last hit you had made you end up in the hospital. The doctor explained how you overdosed but were able to resuscitate you in time. That was when you finally realized you needed to change. Needed to get clean once and for all. You knew it would take time and patience. That you would not magically become clean and sober overnight. It was a process. Setbacks were a possibility. However, there was always a little voice in the back of your head that helped pull you through the dark times, to motivate you to keep going.

Now here you were about to meet the new mentee that Rob assigned you to. He only gave a little backstory about Luke, but not many other details. You ended up texting Luke asking him to meet you on Sunday at your favorite coffee shop, the As Good As It Gets Café. He promptly replied that he would see you there around noon.

When Sunday finally rolled around, you headed to the café and waited. It was a quarter past twelve and Luke still had not shown up. You were starting to get nervous and wondering if he would ever appear. You were on the verge of texting him when the bell on the entry door chimed, indicating that someone was entering the café. You looked up and saw a very tall, scruffy, and attractive looking man standing by the door. The way he was looking around with a lost kind of look helped pinpoint that this was Luke. You got up from your booth and walked over to him.

“Luke?” you politely asked.

“Yes,” he said.

You introduced yourself and held your hand out for him to shake, which he took. You immediately became overwhelmed with the emotions that permeated this man. There was a lot of pain and loss underneath. But there was also a sense of hope and happiness that felt nice.

“Are you okay?” Luke asked wondering why all of a sudden you had a weird look on your face.

“Hmm? I’m sorry. I’m fine. I didn’t mean to…daze off for a second,” you laughed and pointed over to the booth you previously occupied. You walked over with Luke following.

“I’m sorry that I’m late. I was finishing up some homework and didn’t track the time properly,” Luke shared.

“Oh, where do you go to school?”

“Uh…I take a creative writing course at Bunker Hill Community College,” he replied.

“Nice. How are you liking it so far?” you asked him.

Before Luke could respond, one of the waitresses came over asking if Luke wanted anything to drink. Indicating that he just wanted coffee, the two of you were soon left alone.

“I like it. The instructor is really nice. It is the only course I am taking, so it doesn’t take up too much of my time. My older brother, Steve, actually encouraged me to enroll after I shared some of my writing with him. He’s a writer himself. I don’t know if you ever heard of him, Steven Crain? He has written a lot of books, mostly ghost stories. His most famous one is, ‘The Haunting of Hill House’. Have you read that book?”

“I have not. I tend to stay away from horror genres,” you told Luke.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you. Luke was adverting his gaze to anywhere but you. It was easy to tell that he was nervous and unsure of himself.

“Luke,” you spoke up to get his attention and said, “You don’t have to be anxious or feel uneasy. Getting here, to this step, is a big freaking deal. I get it, trust me. I absolutely get it. I never thought I’d be here. To be completely frank, I always pictured myself dead somewhere in the streets. I’m sure you pictured the same for yourself. But it didn’t. You’re here today because you wanted more for yourself. That is something to be proud of.”

Letting out a sigh, Luke sat back in the booth and crossed his arms over his chest. Sometimes he did not feel proud. He missed Nell. He missed her all of the time. She always believed in him no matter how many times he broke her heart. Nell always forgave him. She was always there when he needed someone to bail him out of trouble.

“You okay, Luke? If you would rather do this another time, that is okay. We can reschedule,” you offered. You could sense a feeling of grief underneath the surface of the man sitting before you.

“No. No, I’m sorry. I…uh…I was thinking about Nellie. My twin sister. She…she died recently. Well, not recent, two months ago. So, it’s still…very…it’s still a lot to handle.”

“I’m sorry,” you told him earnestly. “What was it like having a twin? I don’t have any siblings, so I always like to hear other people’s sibling stories.”

“Having siblings has its pros and cons,” Luke laughed, but continued, “They can be much at times, but I’m glad to have them. Especially now that Nellie is gone. They have been incredibly supportive, which makes all the difference in the world.”

“I really appreciate you sharing this with me, Luke. I know it can’t be easy. I am a stranger after all. You’re actually my second mentee from the alumni recovery program. My previous one …well her story didn’t have a happy ending,” you shared with Luke.

He could relate. When he left the clinic in Los Angeles to find Joey and bring her back to get her clean again. She was nine-months clean at the time but ended up using while being back on the streets. Luke would be lying to himself if he did not say he was rather disappointed in Joey. To him, Joey was someone who he could look up to while trying to get clean. He should have known something was off with her during what would be their last night at the clinic. Joey reminded him of Nell, so he could not stand by and do nothing. Joey helped him during his first week at the clinic. So, Luke felt that he owed it to her to return the favor.

Unfortunately, Joey did not want his help in the end. To this day, Luke still does not know what really happened to her after she swiped the drugs off him and headed towards that alley. But deep inside, Luke knew she did not make it. That her body would either be discovered or continue to rot in that alley. Theo would tell him that Joey was not his responsibility. That he had to put himself first when it came to recovery.

Luke pushed his coffee cup to the side and leaned on the table. You were so focused on your own coffee cup that you did not notice him staring at you intently. He was taking you in and assessing you. So far, he could admit that he found you attractive. You had a nice built. Your clothing was not too flashy. He could tell that you were the type to choose comfortable clothing over fashionable attire. However, it was your eyes that stood out. There was a softness and warmness to them that he found quite soothing. There were no ulterior motives behind them or any sense of malice. Luke could see that your intentions with him were good and that you really wanted to help him in his recovery by being a supportive mentor.

“Hey,” he said to get your attention. “I promised that I’ll come to talk to you if I ever feel like I might…. Or if I just feel like I need someone to talk to.”

“I appreciate that, Luke,” you told him sincerely.

#luke crain #luke crain x female reader #luke crain x reader #the haunting of hill house #oliver jackson cohen

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ambivalentmarvel · 5 years ago

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so the story behind this is that @sreppub arrived in my dms saying “sitcom starring two uppity, former rich guys and a regular poor college kid who follow up an online ad and become roommates” and i said something along the lines of “your MIND” and here we are. she does the art, i do the fic, and we both yell a lot along the way. read it on here or ao3 and enjoy!!

The Sitcom Supreme

If Peter or Stephen were around to hear Tony tell the story of how they all ended up rooming together, they would have plenty of objections, to which he would call them both dirty liars, to which they would gang up on him because they’re terrible and like that, to which he would probably throw up his hands in exasperation and/or make the mistake of engaging them in a debate, to which they would grin like wolves because, once again, they’re terrible and like that, but Tony’s the asshole who put up the Craigslist ad, so he gets to start—because he’s terrible and like that.

It’s a common trait amongst the three of them, what can he say?

The beginning of the story does not involve either of the other two, however. It begins with Rhodey, who is only occasionally terrible and like that. Rhodey has been Tony’s best friend since the tender age of fifteen. Considering Tony at age fifteen was a greasy little douche bag with too much money and a whole bunch of daddy issues that were somehow more obvious then than they are in the present, this is an impressive feat.

Where things start, Rhodey and Tony are roommates at MIT, which is Howard’s school of choice to shove his problem child onto. Tony is supposed to get a single dorm room, but there’s a cockroach problem in that building. Administration has to get creative, which is how Rhodey, fresh out of boot for the fall semester, gets saddled with approximately one hundred and fifty pounds of neglected teenage boy who has only kind of gone through puberty.

The first words out of Tony’s mouth are blunt: “Any chance you have plans to drop out?”

And Rhodey looks at him with a raised brow, efficiently unpacked and totally unimpressed with the enormous stack of Tony’s things wavering in the doorway. “You have any plans to quit being annoying?” he retorts, which set the tone for their entire relationship.

Tony loves him to pieces.

He’s the older brother he never knew he needed, yanking him by his collar from frat parties on the weekends and to his house for holidays because getting swamped by Rhodey’s six younger siblings is infinitely better than having to wear a suit and tie for Christmas dinner with six CEOs and maybe some senators, depending on the year. In return, Tony sees him through every finals week of his collegiate career, during which Rhodey gets so nervous he usually pukes at least daily and pulls so many all-nighters Tony memorizes the exact shade of red his eyes are at the end.

So, it’s safe to say they get along well. They get along so well, as a matter of fact, that when they stare at each other after their graduation ceremony for their Masters—a two-year process for both of them, and Rhodey receives two degrees to Tony’s four—surrounded by Rhodey’s family and Jarvis, Tony’s lips curl in a smirk Rhodey knows spells the best kind of trouble. “What do you say we keep the roommate streak alive, yeah? Howard’s building an office in New York, and I’m thinking of doing a doctorate at NYU.”

Rhodey’s brows raise, but he’s grinning, so Tony already knows his answer. “Depends. Are you still gonna’ snore?”

“Are you still gonna’ have a stick up your a—”

Mama Rhodes shoots Tony a look from where she’s trying to corral the rest of her kids.

“—butt?” he finishes with a sheepish glance her way.

Rhodey does not even remotely have a stick up his ass, but of the two of them, he features in tabloids far, far less, which Tony somehow uses to his advantage.

“You know it,” Rhodey replies, and so they find a fancy penthouse that Tony mostly pays for, with the excuse of Rhodey satisfying his part of rent via generally covering Tony’s ass to the best of his ability. And he has a lot of ability, honed from years upon years of Tony self-destructing at the drop of a hat, but there’s only so much he can do, especially as his military career just keeps flying higher and Howard just keeps pushing Tony harder.

A few sex tapes, especially wild benders, and crashed cars later, when Howard cuts Tony off and tells him, quote, “I won’t speak to you until you learn to do something other than disappoint me”, Rhodey very gracefully still shacks up with him in their considerably less fancy apartment.

This is all important to know, contrary to what someone whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange might say about Tony’s “long-winded” and “overly-complicated” storytelling tendencies because it explains exactly why Rhodey is a traitor.

Is Carol a very cool lady who could kick Tony’s ass? Yes. Is she sickeningly cute with Rhodey and not just because a smile from her makes him melt into a pile of fucking goo on the floor? Also yes. Does it probably make more sense for Tony to find roommates who will actually be around to monitor his—allegedly—poor mental health and self-care habits? Okay, fine, yes, but the bottom line is, Rhodey is moving in with Carol and abandoning Tony, and nobody said he had to like it.

(This is not strictly true, what with the approximately ten conversations Rhodey and he have had about his happiness and how, if Tony needs him, all he has to do is say the word and he’ll be back, but Tony has always had a flair for the dramatic.)

The whole idea is that Tony will find someone gone less than Rhodey with all his military business to enjoy having around the apartment. It’s technically a three-bedroom, but he and Rhodey use the extra one for storage. Fortunately or unfortunately, that storage area has become a lot of junk they go through before Rhodey makes his grand exit, and Tony suddenly has the option of having two roommates.

The ad is a low point, he can admit that, but there is a flaw in what Tony loudly calls Rhodey’s master plan to leave him alone to wallow in misery: Tony doesn’t exactly have a lot of friends, nevermind people who he’d want to live with.

“Rhodey. Honeybear. Platypus.”

“The nicknames are old, and you need to stop using them around Carol. She called me Platypus last night during sex, and it ruined the whole mood.”

“You poor thing.”

“She thought it was hilarious.”

If Tony has to lose Rhodey to anybody, by God, Carol is his first choice by a long shot.

“Anyway, as I was saying, Sourpatch—”

“I hate you.”

“—how am I supposed to find someone else to live with?”

Tony is thirty-two and regularly speaks out with all of four people: Pepper, Rhodey, Carol, and Happy. Unfortunately, Happy works in Stark Industries’ California branch and has stated rather firmly that he’s not interested in transferring to the city, Pepper wouldn’t live with another person for love or money, and the other two are spoken for.

It’s a terrible situation to be in, honestly.

“Craigslist,” Rhodey deadpans, fighting with some packing tape.

Tony feels his heart stop beating in real time from his place folding some of Rhodey’s clothes into a plastic tub. His head snaps up, and his jaw drops, absolutely affronted. “You would suggest that I, even disowned and stripped of my former glory—” Tony has several million dollars in the stock market, but that’s neither here nor there and isn’t much compared to the fact that he was supposed to be a billionaire. “—would stoop to looking for live-in friends on Craigslist?”

Rhodey looks up to meet his eyes, unfazed. He’s used to Tony’s antics after nearly two decades of friendship. “Well, I’m not moving out until you have at least one person guaranteed to take my place, so unless you have any better ideas, yeah.” He shrugs—just shrugs, as if he isn’t advising Tony to scrape the bottom of the fucking barrel in terms of reliable people to regularly fall asleep around.

It’s insulting.

“I’m not putting out an ad for a roommate on Craigslist,” he protests, shoving the next horribly colored polo into the tub with disdain.

That night, he tears up thinking about stopping Rhodey from being happy with Carol, and the post is up by the time Rhodey gets up—stupidly early, like normal—for his morning run. Along with his contact information and a few blurry pictures of the place, it includes a blurb about the circumstances.

Best friend moving out. Need a roommate or I will die of Sadness. His girlfriend is cool but hewas mind first. Carol, I am watching you. Two rooms open for business. But not sketchy business. You can just lve there. Current resident (me) is cool and very charming. I am a man. No dumb fuck offers. Thanks.

It could use some work, but Tony’s never been great with words, even less so when he’s crying to rock ballads at two in the morning. He edits it when he wakes up, and by noon that day, it’s looking better.

At seven o’clock that evening, he receives one of two messages that actually work out.

Enter the first offender: Peter Parker.

Peter, Tony will learn, is nineteen, attending NYU—like Tony did, which is a sign, really—for a double major in biochemistry and physics, and has the worst luck of anyone Tony’s ever met.

Rhodey’s moving out in a week—he’s been putting off finding a roommate for a while, alright—and Peter has to legally be out of his dorm in three days. That is quite the predicament, and Tony, by nature, is a curious creature. He is not, however, one for beating around the bush. That results in a text that reads exactly this.

Tony: What the hell did you do?

He could hack through the university files, but explanations are always more fun with a personal touch that’s lacking in, say, an incident report. Tony watches a bubble with three blinking dots for a long, long time, and the reply is surprisingly sparse—sparse enough, in fact, for Tony to have more questions than answers when he receives it.

Unknown Sender: theres been a few things but the kicker was the fire

Tony: The fire?

Unknown Sender: i tried to make popcorn and the microwave blew up

Now that is some problematic behavior Tony can get behind. He amends the kid’s previously non-existent contact information.

Tony: How can they kick you out for that? That’s not your fault.

Roommate (?) Peter: it blacked out the power on the entire first floor

Tony: And?

Roommate (?) Peter: last month i got the blame for contaminating half the campus water supply

Roommate (?) Peter: so i was already on thin ice

Tony: Accidentally?

Roommate (?) Peter: idk sometimes things just happen to me

Tony doesn’t know how to respond to that. If Rhodey knew, he’d never let him live it down. He can hear his annoying laugh in his ears like a premonition—“Hah—Tony, speechless?”—but then there are the dots again and a simple message to follow the last, a touch pathetic.

Roommate (?) Peter: please let me move in

Tony likes him.

Peter shows up on the stairs of the complex thirty-six hours after Tony posted the ad with a backpack and a meager total of six beat-to-shit boxes. The backpack holds nearly all of his school supplies, which makes Tony, in retrospect, genuinely fearful for the integrity of his spine, and the contents of the boxes are sorted, as Tony will learn, into three categories that each have two boxes in them. The categories are fairly simple—clothing, necessities, and whatever other shit he could fit from his dorm—and leave Peter with thrilling possessions such as an entire collection of truly atrocious shirts with science puns on them, a gallon of hand soap, and any food he had in his cupboards.

Thankfully, Rhodey is out furniture shopping with Carol when Tony goes out to meet him, which solves the problem of Rhodey going into overbearing caretaker mode at the sight of a beanpole of a kid failing to manage their life successfully. As someone who has been made many a you-haven’t-eaten-a-meal-in-two-days-and-I’m-secretly-a-panicking-mother-hen casserole, Tony counts his blessings.

Tony waves. “Peter?” he asks, reluctantly changed out of his pajamas for the day.

The kid nods. “That’s me. And you’re Tony?”

“Guilty as charged. Want a hand with those boxes?” he asks, watching Peter lift three at a time.

“No, I got it,” he insists, and then the box on top slides out of his grip and onto the sidewalk.

Peter stares at it for a second before he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Maybe I could use some help,” he admits, and with much struggle, the two of them, each with three boxes, waddle inside. There is a moment and only one moment where Tony thinks that it might be nice to have some extra assistance, but with another thought of the things Rhodey would do at the sight of a woefully inept college kid, Tony decides it’s for the best.

Tony leads the operation, considering he has the key and also knows explicitly where they’re going, and he would have to say his biggest complaint about the ordeal is that Sam, who lives in the apartment below Tony and Rhodey with Steve and Bucky, happens to open his door as they walk by.

Being an asshole, he has something to say about it. “Need some help, shellhead?” he crows.

Tony wishes he had a free hand to flip him off.

“Watch your back, Wilson,” he growls in return, a continuation of the beef the five of them have maintained since they met approximately seven years ago, when they all moved in on the same day and kept knocking into each other’s shit in the halls.

When they reach the top of the next flight of stairs and Tony starts to fumble with the key, Peter asks about it. “So—uh—who was that?”

“That was Sam. Part of the deal with moving in is that you harass him and the other two idiots who live with him. He also responds to jackass, douchecanoe, or birdbrain.”

“Birdbrain?”

“It’s an old joke. He had a rather—” Tony grunts, forced to set down his load to unlock the door, “—spectacular run-in with some pigeons a few years ago.”

“Oh.”

“They shat on him. A lot.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a good nickname,” Tony assures him, throwing open the door with his arms flung wide for dramatic flair. “Welcome to Casa Stark. I mean, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker now, but if we’re hyphenating, my name goes first because I lived here first.” He holds up a finger as if to stall Peter, who has yet to speak from where his mouth is decidedly blocked by the aforementioned three boxes he is carrying. “And I know what you’re going to say—that Parker-Stark works better because it’s alphabetical—but that is where you are wrong because letters have no place in this house. Numbers are much preferred, and we play by seniority here, anyway.”

He gives Peter a meaningful look that he cannot see because, once again, boxes.

“More on that, by the way—”

“Hey, Tony?”

He cuts him off which is, objectively, rude, but Tony rarely gets along with people who aren’t a little curt with him from time to time. This is a positive sign, really, so he allows it.

“Yeah?”

“This can be Casa Stark-Parker, but can we get to somewhere I can set these down? My arms are, like, going to give out on me.”

Not even ten minutes in, and he’s already learned the art of bargaining. Tony’s proud, and he ushers him inside without any more monologues and a grin stretched across his face.

Peter, by virtue of moving in before Rhodey is out, ends up with the room that is no longer being used for storage. Tony has several questions for him, beginning with the fact that, despite the six packets of instant noodles he bothered to bring, he does not appear to have a mattress. Or a desk. Or a dresser. Or anything that’s supposed to go in a room.

His solutions for Tony’s concerns are as follows.

In place of a bed, he has two blankets, one to put on the floor and one to cover himself with. He was planning on sitting on the floor to do schoolwork instead of using a desk. And finally, he was going to leave his clothes in the boxes.

This is all relayed to Tony with an earnest gleam in his eyes and a smile.

Tony blinks in disbelief. Then, very eloquently, he says, “Kid, that is the saddest shit I have ever heard. Aren’t your parents helping you with the move to an apartment?”

The kid shifts from foot to foot, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing to the side.

Tony’s eyes narrow. As someone who is extremely well-versed in avoidance tactics, he feels very confident in saying that is definitely a fucking avoidance tactic.

“About that,” he begins, “first of all, I’m an orphan.” Jesus Christ. “Second of all, my aunt doesn’t exactly—uh—know I got kicked out of the dorms.”

That is all interesting information, to say the least, but luckily, Tony thrives under pressure.

“Alright. I can respect that.”

It’s not like he never hid anything from his parents. Evading his aunt is Peter’s problem, not Tony’s. None of this is Tony’s problem, really, except then he looks around the room and wonders which of Peter’s boxes are holding his two blankets.

Tony was concerned about Rhodey, but he can’t stop himself.

“But I’m also gonna’ level with you—you’re not sleeping on the ground. You can take the couch.”

The until I get you a proper bed frame and mattress goes unsaid, but sometimes things like that are better as surprises. It’ll be a fun housewarming gift, Tony thinks, and by the time the shipment from IKEA arrives containing both of those things and the aforementioned missing dresser and desk, there will be a third roommate to help put it all together, not that either of them know it yet.

That night, Rhodey and Carol show up with enough ingredients for lasagna to serve four, and Tony delights in showing off Peter as they cook because now he has a “super cool roommate too! Take that, Platypus.”

Rhodey glances to Peter. “If you’re being held hostage, blink twice.”

“Hey!” Tony protests. He is a perfectly lovable roommate, thank you very much, and he’s so offended, he’s not even going to let Rhodey know about his mission to furnish Peter’s room.

God bless her, Carol just laughs.

The four of them get along with surprising ease, considering Peter’s only been around for a few hours. Peter even tries to help with the lasagna, but Tony has a near-photographic memory and has not remotely forgotten the popcorn incident, however vaguely it was described.

“You just sit there and be a nicer person than Rhodey,” he urges him, and Peter nods, hiding his grin behind his hand at the argument that starts.

Once everyone is done, he and Rhodey get suckered into dish duty while Carol spirits Peter off to the living room, claiming she has to warn him about what he’s getting into. Tony doesn’t care enough to complain, and when her back is turned, he splashes a plate of suds onto Rhodey’s front.

Rather than rise to the bait, however, he raises his brows, slipping into what Tony affectionately calls his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode. “You have to be a good example for him, Tones.”

Tony blinks. “I’m sorry, did you just say—”

“I’m serious!” They keep their voices mostly down, but Rhodey’s rises a bit with the declaration.

“He’s nineteen—an adult, in case you forgot. He signed the lease all on his own and everything,” he hisses back incredulously.

He thought he dodged the bullet by not disclosing just how underprepared Peter is to live in an apartment, but Rhodey’s head dips. Tony braces himself for the part of his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode where he tells Tony he’s making a bullshit excuse and needs to get it together. “Don’t give me that. He’s a baby adult at best, and you know it.”

Yep, there it is.

“That’s still an adult!”

It is! Tony was on his own way earlier than nineteen. This is not a big deal, no matter how outlandish Peter’s circumstances are for moving out of NYU’s dorms.

“Watch his back.”

Tony scoffs. “It’s not like I was going to feed him to the wolves. I’m barely thirty—I’m not his dad.”

“Tony.”

Ah, the final, crushing blow of this version of Rhodey: his name—but with emphasis.

Tony sighs. “Fine,” he acquiesces. “I solemnly swear I will not let him get up to no good.”

A beat. Rhodey squints at him, slowly lowering the plate he’s holding into the sink. “You told me you refused to read Harry Potter.”

Shit.

Back when the books were first coming out, Rhodey was insufferably obsessed with them, and Tony loves him, but emotionally, he couldn’t handle having Rhodey think he was willing to discuss anything having to do with the series for longer than thirty seconds. Thus, he read the books—everyone in the world was doing the same, okay, and he cannot stand being out of the loop—but lied to Rhodey about it.

And now, he’s been made.

Rhodey and he launch into a very spirited discussion that draws Carol and Peter back to the kitchen, and despite the vein throbbing dangerously in Rhodey’s forehead, the promise has been made.

The day after Rhodey moves out, he and Peter manage to flood the bathroom.

In Tony’s defense, he only promised to look out for Peter. He said nothing about curbing his own dumbass tendencies, and it’s not like Bucky’s bedroom is all that damaged by the leak that Tony fixes before it’s really even a problem.

He and Peter settle into a nice sense of camaraderie, and Tony, content with his situation, forgets to take down his Craiglist ad that, logically speaking, someone would have to dig to find at this point, over a week after initially posting it.

Then, he receives a text that is as simple as it is effective: Is there still an available room in the apartment?

Enter the second offender: Stephen Strange.

Ahem, Doctor Stephen Strange, technically, but Tony has six PhDs. Nobody sees him going around making people call him Doctor Stark, and that’s because it makes him sound pretentious and stuffy, both things Tony prides himself on not being. However, Tony likes to push buttons, and very little gets Stephen worked up as fast as someone ignoring his credentials.

It’s a fun set-up, really, but annoying the piss out of Stephen is something that comes a little later—Tony’s not there yet in the story.

He humors the text, and after getting a read on things, he bursts into the living room, startling Peter nearly off the couch. He’s been doing his homework there and on the coffee table in front of it because the Swedish have many things but fast shipping is, apparently, not one of them, not that Peter knows there’s anything to be waiting on, but he’s getting off-topic.

Peter lets out a short yelp and presses a hand over his heart, both things that Tony ignores.

“We have a situation,” he announces.

“I swear I didn’t do it,” Peter defends pleadingly.

Tony is trying to teach him that messing things up is expected and, especially in particularly magnificent cases, admired in Casa Stark-Parker, but it’s a work in progress.

“I know you didn’t—don’t be ridiculous,” he waves his concerns off. “We are talking bigger than setting things on fire by accident. I bring you, my young protege, the proposition of—” A pause for dramatic effect. “—another roommate.”

“Ooh,” Peter says appropriately, setting his textbook down to examine the texts Tony brandishes. He begins to scroll, but while he does, Tony figures he can go ahead and fill him in on the essentials. It’s a very juicy situation, after all, and he can’t help himself.

“His name is Stephen Strange. He’s a neurosurgeon, but he got into a pretty bad car wreck that messed up his hands. He’s trying to save money while he goes to physical therapy—he apparently has a chance of recovery, but it’s a ways off—and that includes downsizing on where he lives.”

“I mean, yikes, but that’s an oddly specific backstory.”

“I’m glad you think that too, but I am intrigued. I looked him up, and he’s a real person—has a basically flawless reputation, or at least he did before his accident. Thoughts?”

Please say yes, please say yes, Tony thinks. The chance of a competent human—not including Rhodey, who looks more put together than he really is next to the chaos Tony perpetually dwells in—choosing to live with him is too fascinating to pass up, and he needs Peter to see that too.

Peter shrugs. “I’m down if you are. How old is he?”

Victory!

Satisfaction floods Tony, but he tries to maintain his cool.

“Thirty.”

Peter blows out a long breath, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “I didn’t anticipate moving into a nursing home,” he remarks dryly.

What a little shit.

It’s worth noting half the reason Rhodey left so easily is because he said he trusted Peter to keep Tony on his toes. Then again, that Tony likes being snarked at is a large part of why they get along so well despite only knowing each other for a matter of days.

“You’re the worst, Parker. I’m going to feed you to the hooligans downstairs. Steve has a monster appetite, you know.”

Peter hums, picking his textbook back up. “Not if I feed you to them first. And, Tony?”

“What?”

“Only old people say hooligans.”

Tony thinks about that one book, Give a Mouse a Cookie or whatever. Except in his case, it’s Rent a Teenager an Apartment, and Tony doesn’t have to adhere to the literary equivalent of a G-rating.

His response to the dig is creative and colorful, and Peter laughs.

Four days and a brief conversation at a coffee shop later—a formality he and Peter did not do and probably something Tony should’ve thought of as the older adult before giving him the address—Stephen’s team of movers invade the apartment.

The man himself stands like a drill sergeant at the last flights of stairs it takes to get to the apartment, arms crossed, beard wild, conducting activity.

Peter and Tony share their evaluations, peeking their head out from the doorway when it’s unoccupied by movers and Stephen isn’t looking their way. This involves quite a bit of ducking, but they are very careful not to be caught.

(Someone’s whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange later informs that “they were not at all subtle” and “were, in fact, very embarrassing”, but that’s how things with the three of them generally are, so Tony figures it was a good crash course to how life together goes.)

“He’s kind of scraggly,” Peter whispers, his head under Tony’s because he’s the shorter of the two of them, something Tony delights in refuting Peter’s quips about his age with.

“Kind of? He looks like a hobo.”

It’s true, okay? Facially, at least, the guy is a wreck. He’s not quite to Einstein levels of bad hair day, but he’s getting there.

“Be nice,” Peter chastises him. He’s gentler than Rhodey when he does it, but considering neither of them ever shut the hell up and they have thus bonded very easily over the course of their short relationship, it’s gotten to feel as natural as most of their interactions.

“All I’m saying is that I am happy to retain my place as the most attractive person in the apartment, okay?”

They’re forced to retreat from the entryway as another load comes through, and Peter looks at him disbelievingly. “Dream on,” he replies bluntly.

Tony gasps in offense.

Peter shrugs. “Look, I’m just gonna’ say it—you knew Rhodey before me, and now that I’m here—” he trails off, looking at Tony in faux-sympathy that doesn’t match the mischievous glint in his eyes.

While it is true that Rhodey is a fine specimen of a man—yet another reason Tony can’t, in good conscience, be truly angry Carol mooched him away from the bachelor lifestyle—Tony can’t cede that easily for the sake of his pride, and he scowls. “I am going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

They’re still bickering as the movers finish up and Stephen enters the apartment, dressed in what Tony recognizes as the latest from Armani and Tom Ford.

He may not get invited to fashion week anymore, but he still has taste, alright, even if Rhodey limits him to one designer purchase a month.

(Rhodey isn’t around to see what packages he orders now, Tony thinks but shelves the thought for later.)

Tony and Stephen met over coffee, and all three of them said hi to one another before the moving business officially began. However, there is a little stiffness in the air, make no mistake. It’s not Stephen’s fault, exactly, because he’s just kind of a foreboding guy, but still.

It figures that Peter would break the ice. As Tony’s found and will continue to discover, Peter is just as talkative as him. Granted, that trait usually appears in the form of rambling about something from class, but it’s not surprising that his natural passion for life comes through with someone about to be very, very involved in it.

“Hi!” he begins. “Are all of the movers gone now?”

Stephen raises an unimpressed brow. “Yes.”

His reply is seriously lacking enthusiasm, but Tony isn’t allowed the opportunity to jump on that as Peter keeps going.

“Sweet! Okay, so welcome to Casa Stark-Parker.”

Woah, woah, woah—timeout.

Tony frowns, raising a hand in a motion for Peter to stop. “I thought that was my thing?” he interjects.

“Well, it has my name in it, so it gets to be both of our things,” Peter replies, then furrows his brow, looking to Stephen. “Actually, since you’re here now, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker-Strange. Order’s based on who got here first, sorry,” he explains with a smile that Tony, now familiar with the fact that Peter has more to him than meets the eye, notes is a touch impish.

Tony is pleased to see, despite his generally wholesome appearance, the kid has at least picked up on the power of staking a claim.

Stephen blinks. His hands, Tony has noticed, don’t stop shaking, not even when he folds his arm across his chest, like a physical barrier between him and Peter’s excitement. “Okay?” he drawls slowly, confusedly.

“Tony’s rules, not mine,” Peter assures him as if he doesn’t just want the satisfaction of having his name not be the last in the line-up.

Tony scoffs. “Oh okay, so now we’re throwing me under the bus?”

“You have to take responsibility for your actions, Tony.”

“Oh, sure thing,” he replies, tone betraying that he does not, in fact, think any responsibility is at all necessary. He looks to Stephen, rolling his eyes. “Can you believe what I have to put up with? And it’s barely been a week.”

Stephen blinks again. “I see it’s a lot,” he says measuredly.

Peter gasps, unaffected. “Oh my God, we should make a sign for it,” he enthuses. “We can put it up on the door, and we’d be so much cooler than Sam and them.”

To say that Peter rose to the challenge of bothering their downstairs neighbors with zeal is something of an understatement.

Tony is, honestly, a fan of the sign idea, especially if it were to light up, but that is where Stephen cuts in, his hands still trembling as he gestures. “Can we slow down for a moment?” He looks carefully from Tony and Peter and back again, bearing the appearance of a man in the throes of realizing he has made a bad decision.

Tony knows that look well. It usually shows up when Rhodey agrees to one of Tony’s ideas and doesn’t realize just how badly constructed it is until it’s too late.

“First of all, I am fairly certain my car is parked illegally, and before we get too far, I need to fix it before I get towed. And secondly,” Tony watches Stephen’s lips curl in a self-satisfied, I-totally-think-I’m-better-than-you-even-if-I’m-not-technically-saying-it smile, “I am not here to be part of any Casa. I am waiting for physical therapy to work for me, and then I will be out of your hair. I appreciate being able to live here, but—”

Yeah, Tony’s had enough of that. Personally, he would like to thank Rhodey, who, in a way, begins and ends the story, and truly is the greatest best friend a man could have for teaching him how to properly deal with pompous rich people.

“Nuh-uh, none of that. If you’re living here, you’re a part of Casa Stark-Parker-Strange whether you like it or not.”

Stephen looks downright appalled that someone would dare to interrupt him, which, Tony knows from experience, is exactly the kind of shock rich people need to go through. He splutters for a second before he manages to get out a reply, “That was not in the lease.”

Tony spreads his hands as if to say what can you do? “And you didn’t mention in your texts that you were going to try to be a bump on a log, but here we are.”

Perhaps sensing the mounting animosity in the room or maybe just as excited as Tony to have someone to bother, Peter takes advantage of Stephen’s overwhelmed and bewildered state.

“First day with all three of us!” he shouts. “Picture!”

And before anyone can protest—including Tony, who would prefer to be documented in something other than a Black Sabbath tee and his work pants—Peter leans in with the camera on his phone ready to capture the moment.

In the resulting photo, Tony looks vaguely alarmed, Stephen looks pissed as hell, and Peter wears a grin that stretches across his whole face. The whole thing is blurry, and they eventually get it framed.

It’s a beautiful and fitting start to their time as roommates, and in the humble eyes of the asshole who posted the Craigslist ad, that is how the story of how they came to live together went.

#tony stark #stephen strange #peter parker #supreme family #iron dad #spider son #fic #tss #ambivalentmarvel #if you tag this st*rker you die by our blade

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hotsayce · 3 years ago

Text

The Lake

NCT fanfic - 3.4k - Gender Neutral- A group of friends go to their nearby lake to hang out:)

Warnings: Drowning is mentioned but don't worry! No one actually drowns, the narrator just can't swim and is scared. Sex is also mentioned. Alcohol.

Author's Note: This is written in first person but the narrator is referred to as Y/N. Johnny and Ten aren't THAT important in the story, it's mostly the narrator and Mark.

~~~

It was almost time.

My friends and I were getting ready to go to the lake for a celebration.

Though the only thing worth celebrating was that Mark was finally graduating high school. He was the baby of our group. Ten and I were both 20, Johnny was 22 and Mark was just 18. We all started being friends in high school, I met Ten in dance class and Johnny in chorus my freshman year. We adopted Mark during my junior year though. We noticed some random kid sitting alone at lunch most every day. Nothing wrong with that, I myself sat alone sometimes during my freshman year. But this was different. Another group of kids began to sit with him, we thought he finally found his crowd. Until one week, Mark's little table was empty. We just assumed he was sick or something, until it lasted the whole week. We didn't have any classes with him and we had never spoken to him so there was no way to know what happened. The next Monday, Johnny just so happened to stop by the bathroom during lunch and saw poor Mark sitting on the (disgusting) bathroom floor, crying and eating alone. Then he brought him to sit with us. The rest is history.

Not really, I've never had a history class with any of them.

But that brings us to tonight, I am just about to open the door to leave my dorm room when my roommate asks, "Where are you going?"

Dangn't. I had been trying my best not to wake them up but I failed. Like always.

"Just out with some friends." I answer in the most calm way possible.

Adrian isn’t a snitch or anything, I just don’t want them knowing my business. We were never really that close.

"Okay," They roll back over in their bunkbed, facing the wall.

I almost slip out of the door when they ask, "What time will you be back?"

"Before 5."

They roll over again. "Okay, just be more quiet when you sneak back in please."

They must be referring to the time I came in at 6 A.M. and my morning alarm started blaring. I kept trying to push the off button but my screen was too cracked for me to press it. They'll never let me live that down.

I slip out of the door and am on my way to the bathroom. I don’t need to think of a plan to get out or anything, my Resident Advisor doesn’t care if we leave during the night. Ten wouldn't have such an easy time though, I hear the advisor at his dorm is more strict.

I finally step outside of my building only to notice that Ten beat me here.

"How'd you get past your RA?"

He laughs. "It's easy to reason with someone you've slept with."

"Gross." I shove him to the side. Not gross, quite cool actually. I was very jealous. Ten's RA was drop dead gorgeous and the amount of times I asked him if I could sleep over to see if they'd stop by his room is far too many to count.

We were on our way to Johnny's place to go chill at the lake behind his house. He went to the same college as Ten and I but he lived at home with his parents. I would too if they were as loaded as his family, not to mention they live pretty close to school. A walk was only 35 minutes away which never seemed like much if you walked with other people.

Walking to Johnny's was normally silent when I went by myself but that was never the case with Ten. He always had some cool college story to tell, we were both juniors but his experience seemed much more interesting that mine. Whether he was spilling gossip about the dance team or who he'd been flirting with during his most recent seminar, it was always something eventful.

"What college do you think Mark will choose?" Ten asks.

Woah. That's a much different direction from where he normally goes.

"Why such a somber question to start the night? (morning actually) I wanna know if anything new has happened between Veronica and Tamika?" I try changing the subject. Veronica and Tamika were two girls in his dance class who had supposedly been best friends since their freshman year. Everyone knew they liked each other but neither of them had ever asked the other out.

"Seriously Y/N. What if he doesn't come to our school?"

"Well," I normally try not to think about what would happen if Mark left the country for college. "Then we'll video chat with him every week and text him all the time and he'll come home each summer."

Ten doesn’t look at me but I know that this is eating him up.

It'd been eating all of us up. Johnny, Ten, and I had all gone to GC State for our own separate reasons and we were hoping Mark would too but he had his eyes set on an arts school in Vancouver. He was born in Canada so it would mean so much to him to move back there for college but he didn't want to leave his friends (us).

"I just don't want us to split up. We were gonna be his older college buddies." It was dark out but I could still see the frown on Ten's face.

I put my arm around his shoulder. "He still has about a month left, we don't know what he's going to pick. And whichever school he does choose, we'll support him."

Ten sighs. "I guess your right. We don't where he'll go yet but we have to be happy for him."

I nod my head and continue walking beside him.

"Oh and Ica-Ika is never gonna work out." 'Ica-Ika' was a cute ship name Ten and I made for Veronica and Tamika. "Imagine being a senior in college and still being too nervous to confess to your crush."

I raise my eyebrow at him. "You're one to talk."

"Look. I've got one more year. Quit rushing me."

I laugh at Ten. He's had a crush on Johnny since high school but has never told him. At this rate he never will.

~~~

We finally arrive at Johnny's house. He has that type of house that you have to drive down to since it's off by itself. The three story ones with the huge yards. The house where everybody wants to be and where all the parties were. Not to mention the lake in the back. I was surprised when I found out that Johnny was an only child. Why would their family need such a big house if there were just 3 of them? But it's not my place to judge what other people do with their hard earned money.

Johnny's car is the only one in the driveway so his parents aren't home. Ten and I don't bother walking through the front door, we walk straight to the back and find Mark sitting in a lawn chair and Johnny standing right beside him.

Johnny had always taken a liking to Mark ever since he found him in the bathroom. Not in the cliché high school relationship type of way though, Johnny was not a creepy senior guy on the varsity football team and Mark was not an innocent freshman girl who had 'developed' over the summer. They were 4 years apart but the way they act, you'd think they were the exact same age. Except they don't look the same age. Johnny was tall (a giant really) with long brown hair. Between his extroverted personality and his beefy arms, he had all the girls, guys, and honestly anyone with eyes after him. Mark was... not like Johnny. He was much smaller with short black hair and I'm sure people would be after him if he wasn't so darn oblivious to everyone who wants him. It's like he was waiting for someone special to come along and ask him out but who knows when that will happen?

"You're finally here!" Johnny turned at the sound of our footsteps and came up to hug us. He always gave great hugs.

"Now the party can start!" I say while Ten and Johnny hug for a second too long.

Mark gets up to hug us as well and we make our way to the lake, although he lingers to walk beside me instead of with Johnny and Ten.

~~~

"Have you decided which college you're going to yet?" I glare at Ten from my chair and Johnny does the same.

"You haven't even gotten him to drink yet and you're already asking him important questions? What am I teaching you Ten?" Johnny takes another swig of his own glass of wine. He's the only person who would bring fancy glasses and expensive wine to hang out at the lake with his friends at 3 A.M.

"I can't drink yet Johnny." Mark says.

Johnny winks at him. "Riiight."

I laugh as I drink from my own glass. "There's no rush in your decision Mark. We'll be happy with whatever you choose."

Everyone was silent as we all thought about what Mark's decision would be. Our guess was as good as his.

"C'mon guys no being sad at our celebration." Johnny jumps up from his seat. "To the lake!"

He begins walking to the lake, Ten close on his heels cheering. I get up from my seat to follow them but notice Mark still sulking in his chair. He must still be thinking about college. No doubt he has exams soon, he has this big decision to add on top of it all.

I walk over to Mark and grab his hand, motioning for him to walk with us.

When we get to the lake, the rest of the guys rid themselves of their shirts while Mark keeps his on. I opt to keep my shirt on as well, I don't plan on swimming today.

"You're not gonna swim?" Mark takes his shoes off, preparing to get in the water.

"No, not today." I sit down on the dock and stick my feet in the cool water.

Instead of getting in the water like Ten and Johnny, Mark sits down beside me. "I won't swim either then."

There's no use in telling him to go ahead and swim. He hates for any one of us to be left out so he'll stay with me no matter how much I protest.

The sadness in Mark's eyes from earlier disappears once he looks at the lake. His expression when he looks at the water makes it seem like he's never seen a lake like this before. He's always loved coming here. Johnny would sometimes pick him up after school when he had the time so they could just sit here at the lake and talk about anything. It was like his safe place. He wouldn't have the lake in Vancouver.

"Were you being serious earlier?" The reflection of the moon is still in his eyes but the sadness is back.

"Serious about what?" I say as I flick my feet in the water.

"When you guys said you'd support me. No matter what college I go to. You won't leave like-"

"No Mark," I stop him before he can even finish. "We won't leave you. It doesn't matter how far we are, we'll always be friends okay?"

He doesn't say anything but I know he understands. Ever since those kids ditched him in high school, he's had trust issues about people leaving him. There were so many people that tried to be friends with him but he always pushed them away because he thought they'd do the same. Sure he talks to some people at school, but his only real friends are all in college. I can't imagine how lonely that must feel.

I try to lighten the mood. "Hey Buddy," I say jokingly.

"Oh no, not buddy."

I place my arms around Mark's shoulders. "You know you're getting older and your life is changing..."

He then rips my arm from his shoulder laughing, "What is this?"

I grab his arm once again. "I'm just trying to tell you about college because you're a growing boy."

"Are you trying to give me the talk? Because I've had it before."

I turn and face him. "You've had sex before?!"

"What no! I meant the talk!"

I sigh out of relief. "Phew. Good. I couldn't believe you had never told me."

We both laugh until it gets quiet.

"You never told me whether you've had sex before."

He was not wrong. Johnny and Ten talked about their 'partners' all the time but I've never mentioned it because I've never been with anyone like that. I've always been waiting for the right time but it was really just me being cautious and refusing to have my first time in a cramped college dorm. No one (near my age) had caught my interest and, unfortunately, Johnny never volunteered so I've just been saving myself up I guess.

"That is correct." I don't know what Mark is getting at but I just keep letting him talk.

"Well do you thin-"

Before he can finish his sentence, I feel a splash of water hit me. Ten and Johnny float in the water in front of us with two big grins on their faces.

"Hey spoilsports, come swim with us." Johnny hits us with another splash and Mark jumps in to go play with them. Thank God. I was not about to let Mark down and tell him that I won't have sex with him during his last year of high school. There is nothing wrong with Mark except for how he is basically still a child and as (or even more) inexperienced as I am.

The guys stay near my area so I can still splash them from sitting down. Except it's mostly them cheating because whenever I throw water at them, they just duck under the surface whereas I have to stay up here and get wet.

By the time we're done, I'm soaking wet and Ten and Johnny have swam out again. Mark almost joins them but swims back to me.

"How come you aren't swimming with us?"

The word 'swim' is incorrect in this situation. He knows I can't swim. Normally, when we go to the lake, I lazy around in a floatie but I just don't feel like it right now.

"Mark, you know I can't swim."

"Well yeah," He flips his hair back and unintentionally sprays me with more water. "But we all can."

I'm sorry. I think he's failed to understand the concept of 'me not being able to swim = me drowning.'

Before I can inform him of that, Johnny and Ten come swimming towards us with a weird look in their eyes. When they get up on the dock, they shake their hair out as well, getting me wet again and then Johnny grabs Ten's hand and begins leading him back to the house.

"Where are you two going?" I question and they just giggle.

"Johnny wants to show me his room." Ten smiles up at the older and they're still walking away from us.

Mark calls out after them, "But we've all already seen his room!" They keep laughing, hand in hand, walking back to the house to do who knows what except we all know exactly what they're doing and I curse them in my head for setting up such a venereal tone in the air.

"What are they doing?" Mark looks up at me with the most oblivious look in his eyes.

"Sex."

"Gross."

Again, not gross. Very jealous.

I wish the moonlight and calm lake were not making the environment so romantic right now. Not to mention the text from Ten that says, 'Don't bother us. Go bang Mark :)'

Although that sounds very tempting, I will not be a senior in high school's, first time. Or let him be my first time.

"I can hold you if you're still afraid of swimming." Mark's quiet voice interrupts my thoughts.

"What?"

"We were talking about swimming earlier. If you're okay with it, I can just hold you in the water. I won't let go."

I get another text from Ten. 'Don't see any banging yet :(' I look up to the window of Johnny's bedroom and see a silhouette of them standing there. Mark waves at them and I can't see that far but I can tell that they're smiling before they close the curtain.

I put my phone away and respond to Mark. "It's really okay. You don't have to do that."

He moves from leaning on the dock beside me to being right in front of me, laying his hands on my knees.

"I pinky promise you'll be safe. Please swim with me."

Once again, the reflection of the moon does me dirty, illuminating the sincerity in Mark's eyes. I can't say no. (I absolutely could but I won't)

I take a deep breath. "Okay." I don't bother removing my shirt since he didn't either. Mark places his hands lightly around my waist and begins pulling me down into the water.

"Don't drop me." I say. I've done this before but with Johnny and he's much bigger and stronger than Mark so I can't say that I'm not a little worried he won't be able to carry me.

Mark just smiles and pulls me down until I'm no longer on the dock.

My first instinct is to immediately flail because I believe I will sink all the way to the bottom of the lake but Mark's grip on me tightens, obviously noticing how my body tensed up when I got into the water.

"I got you." He doesn't let me go as promised and we stay close to the dock, my back against the wood.

"See. All safe."

Being in the water isn't as scary as I thought it would be. I'm glad Mark is here with me. And I'm glad that we didn't leave the dock, giving me the option to change my mind and climb back up if I want to.

"What are you thinking?" He asks.

I haven't spoken since I got in the water. Maybe it's the calmness of the lake itself or the fact that Mark is holding me, but I can't think of anything to say.

"Nothing really." I feel the urge to wrap my legs around Mark's waist but I fight against it.

"Well I'm thinking of us."

I smile, staring at the moon. "Yeah. I really enjoy hanging out at the lake with you guys every once in a while.

"No Y/N." I look over at him. "I mean us. This."

I shake my head. There's always been something between us but it was so minute that we never spoke of it. "There is no this Mark. You know that. We both know that."

"Do we really?"

The water around us seems so still. The only movement is from our too close together chests, rising and falling at the same time. My eyes drift to his lips and I can't help but wonder how they would feel against my own.

Mark notices me staring, closes his eyes, and leans in but right when our lips almost touch, I turn my head to the side. His lips graze my cheek which is better than nothing I suppose. As much as my heart wants to, I cannot kiss him and add on to the already long list of reasons he would rather stay here than go to Vancouver. A kiss would only hold him back even more and I know how much he wants to leave.

"I'm sorry Mark." I lean my head into the nook of his neck hoping he won't push me away after what I just did. I don't want this to be awkward but I tighten my grip on his shoulders, not wanting to rid myself of his touch just yet.

"I understand." I want him to pull my face back up and tell me all the thoughts he's had about us. I want him to try to kiss me again, and this time I may kiss him right back. But he doesn't. Instead, his hold on my waist never loosens or falters even though I know his arms and whole body must be tired from swimming for so long.

I hope what we have won't falter either.

~~~

Sometimes when Mark calls me and I hear everything he's been doing and everyone he's been talking to, I wish I would've kissed him back at the lake. The people in Vancouver sound really pretty. And he always sounds really happy. What would've changed if I did kiss him? Maybe he would have went to college here and then we could be a cute couple like Ten and Johnny. But there's no telling what would happen. I just know that I'll always have a best friend halfway across the world.

But hey, there's always summer break.

8 notes · View notes

tamakeey · 4 years ago

Text

there are children present (pt. 2)

doctor! ushijima wakatoshi x doctor! reader

a/n: yeah, there’s probably gonna need to be a part three because I have a lot of ideas and it’s too much to put all into part two sorry :(( but lmk if you’re interested in part three :))

so it's been a little over a year since y/n has been working at the clinic

still as popular as ever with the children due to her caring and gentle nature

ushijima is still ushijima (the same tall, stoic face doctor that scares the children until they realize he’s nothing but a softie)

their feelings for each other: yeah they’re still growing bigger than atsumu’s ego (or at least cutting it close)

the two doctors: still as oblivious as ever, never noticing the subtle hints they throw at each other (it’s mainly y/n throwing the hints though, ushijima never catches them causing his red headed counterpart to slam his head against the wall

the nurse trio continue to pick on their assigned doctors for not making any big moves

and when their doctor refuse to reveal their feelings, what do they do?

of course they rant to one another about their struggles in bringing to two doctors, who were smart enough to graduate medical school and pass residency but cannot confess for the life of them, together

“I swear waiting for them to confess is like watching paint dry” -semi

“SEMI SEMI USHIJIMA REFUSES TO CONFESS AND I SWEAR IM GOING BALD FROM THE STRESS”-tendou

kawanishi truly believes that he may graduate with his nursing degree, pass his board exams, and get his license and a permanent position at the clinic before they can even mutter the words “I like you” to one another

their feelings are so obvious the receptionists, reon and yamagata has caught on and take every second they see two walk into work together to make comments on how cute of a couple they would be

it flusters y/n but ushijima keeps his stoic face and replies with “we’re just friends” (even though he’s blushing internally)

moral of the story is, their feelings are painfully obvious to everyone except the two doctors

so it’s another typical day in the pediatrics center

y/n typing away at her cubicle while semi and kawanishi complains about her lack of courage

“just confess to him please, it’s getting painful for all of us” kawanishi says bluntly while hitting his head against the cubicle wall, already knowing what the doctor was going to say

“no, he doesn’t like me that way, I don't know why you all keep insisting that he does” y/n replies with a semi mouthing the exact words she says after hearing everyday for the past six months

“do you not hear tendou screaming in distress everyday and screeching about how ushijima is as dumb as a brick” kawanishi asks

“I thought he was inferring to ushijima’s lack of social awareness, which is adorable but also very dangerous in this field” y/n replies

“how are you a doctor but you’re so dumb?” semi asks rhetorically

“do you tune out the half where tendou is complaining ushijima’s love life and how he has the chance for it but isn’t taking it. he even shouts your name in there most of the time, what’s not clicking?” kawanishi rants

“look I'm too nervous to make the first move with ushijima and I cannot read his emotional 100% of the time, so confessing is out of the question. now there’s a patient coming in five minutes and you two have to do your typical nurse routine before I go in so hop to it” y/n spews out

typical nurse routine in case it was unclear: take height and weight, check patients blood pressure and ears, and record their temperature and reason for being in the office and such

semi and kawanishi grumble as they sanitize their hands and walk out of the office area

y/n takes a deep breath and slouches down in her chair as she begins to think of the conversation she just had with her troublesome nurses

after a few minutes of contemplating their words, the two nurses return with the file report of the patient, signaling the female doctor’s need in the examination room

as y/n makes her way to the examination room, she runs into ushijima who came rushing into the pediatrics center

“what has you rushing?” y/n asks an exasperated ushijima

“I was almost late since I was coaching shirabu today but it went a little more overtime than how I originally planned the session. also, we spent a good time waiting for his friend to show up only to find out they had to take a raincheck because the kid has a doctor’s appointment today” ushijima replied

“oh I see, well I need to get to a patient right now but I'll catch up with you after�� y/n says

ushijima gives her a nod and a pat on the head before rushing to the office to hopefully clock in on time

as y/n knocks on the door, she opens it to find a little boy with a bowl cut sitting on the examination table fiddling with his fingers

if bowl cut did not give it away, it’s our favorite rock lee look alike and if that didn’t help any it’s goshiki :)

the toddler look up upon hearing the door open up and begins visibly shaking because doctor visits are scary

“hello goshiki, my name is dr. y/l/n and I heard you’re not feeling the greatest today, wanna tell me what’s wrong” y/n asked the boy gently, crouching to his height

goshiki hesitates on answer and sits silently while mumbling too quietly for y/n to hear

“I'm sorry sweetie, I couldn’t hear you? could you speak up, I promise I won't hurt you. I’m here to help you feel healthy and strong again!” y/n explains, trying to get the poor frightened boy to open up

“my friend and I were playing volleyball the other day and when he served the ball, it hit my head really hard and everything went black” goshiki says

“I'm just worried if it he may have a concussion so I took him in” goshiki’s mother continues causing the doctor to nod and examine goshiki’s head

I see, so we are going to have to run a couple cognitive tests but from the looks of it, I think it may just be a bruise” y/n asserts causing the poor boy to shake at the word tests

“don’t worry, we do not need to do any shots or blood test. it’s just little memory things, unless you want an MRI scan to be 100% sure. but from what I see, I don’t believe it is a concussion” y/n continues

goshiki looks at his mom silently begging her not to make him take the scary test to which she replies that an MRI would not be necessary to goshiki’s relief

“well then goshiki, you ready to play some brain games. do your best!” y/n encourages the boy causing him to get fired up

because she had him at games

‘OKAY!” goshiki exclaims bouncing on the examination table

y/n begins to grab cards with little picture on them and handed them to goshiki to begin memorizing

she would test him after giving him 5 minutes to study the cards

little did she know, tendou decided that April fools would come early this year and decided to put a picture of ushijima within the cards

just for shits and giggles you know

tendou’s line of thinking you ask why not fluster y/n while she's caring for a patient, that would be hilarious

after five minutes of goshiki studying the cards, he hands them back to y/n

“okay goshiki, can you name at least five of the cards out of the ten that I gave you?” y/n asks, still unaware of the picture of the giant doctor

“blanket, bed, apple, chair, and penguin” goshiki recites

y/n looks at the first five cards to see goshiki had named them in order

“perfect, do you think you can do all ten?” y/n encourages

goshiki nods excitedly and continues

“bear, flower, water, ball, and ushijima” goshiki says, eyes sparkling at the last word

y/n visibly jumps, her cheeks turning red

“wait a minute, dr. ushijima is not one of the card options” y/n questions

“yes he was, his picture was the tenth card I studied” goshiki says innocently

y/n begins vigorously going through the cards she handed goshiki only to see the little bowl cut boy was correct

the tenth card was in fact a photo of the tall, stoic doctor

goddammit tendou y/n thinks in her head, knowing it was for sure his doing

“I'm impressed that you got all ten but how did you know that was dr. ushijima?” y/n asks curiously

need I remind you, y/n’s face is as red as tendou’s hair

“he's my favorite volleyball player in the whole entire world, I wanna be an ace just like him. I was going to play volleyball with him today but mommy said I have to go to the doctors” goshiki explains, his face visibly deflating when mentioning his missed opportunity

“I see, goshiki do you mind waiting in here for like 5 minutes for me. I need to print your papers to take home but my printer isn’t working in here?” y/n asks politely while goshiki nods

y/n takes her leave and makes her way to the office room where she sees ushijima looking at paperwork, sitting in his cubicle

“ushijima-san, can I borrow you for a few minutes?” y/n pops her head in his cubicle and politely asks him

ushijima nods while throwing his paperwork on his desk

“it’s a small world I swear. my current patient was the child you were supposed to coach today. he apparently is a huge fan of you and was super sad that he missed an opportunity to meet his idol” y/n explains

ushijima catching where y/n was going with his nodded and opened the office door for y/n, signaling her to lead the way to the patient’s room

“you don’t have a patient coming in soon do you?” y/n asks, concerned that she’s putting him off schedule

“I don't have a patient coming in for another hour, so it’s fine” ushijima replies

soon they make it in front of the examination room

of course the three troublemaking nurses are staring at them behind a wall thinking what’s going on for them to be going into a room together

I tried finding a reference picture but scary pictures popped up and now I'm scared but basically it’s like one head on top of another, if you can find it lmk I think I'm searching up the wrong thing

y/n knocks on the door to goshiki’s room and then walks in with ushijima following behind her, but he’s hidden by the curtain

“hi goshiki, there’s someone I would like you to meet” y/n says which ushijima took as a cue to come out from behind the curtain

when I tell you goshiki squealed, he screamed so loud, washijou could hear it from his office which was on the opposite side of the pediatrics center

receptionists yamagata and reon can hear him from their little windows

everyone in the waiting area heard it loud and clear, concerned for the child who they believed were screaming bloody murder

anyways after goshiki had his internal fanboy moment, he climbed off the examination table and ran up to ushijima, hugging his legs

“OMG ITS USHIJIMA, HE’S REALLY HERE. I LUB YOU” goshiki screaming, jumping up and down while holding onto ushijima’s khaki colored slacks

“pleasure to meet you goshiki, I heard you also love playing volleyball” ushijima answered

“YES I LOVE VOLLEYBALL, I HOPE TO BE AN ACE JUST LIKE YOU” goshiki exclaims waving his little arms all over the place

ushijima chuckles and y/n swears she’s never heard anything more melodic in her life

“I’m glad I inspire you to be a better volleyball player. I hope you will be able to make it to shirabu’s next volleyball lesson, I look forward to working with you” ushijima replies

“YES SIR” goshiki said bowing repeatedly

ushijima approaches goshiki’s mother to begin working out a schedule fit for goshiki

all while y/n continues to stare at his face with a fond look

suddenly, she feels a tug on her scrub bottoms and looks down to find goshiki looking up at her with a questioning look on his face

“Dr. y/l/n, do you love ushijima-kun?” goshiki asked innocently while tilting his head to the side

this caused the female doctor to turn a bright shade of red and attempt to deny it to the best of her capabilities

waving hands

repeatedly saying no

what you think of, she probably tried it to convince baby goshiki that she had no feelings for the volleyball-playing doctor

“why are you so red dr. y/ln?” goshiki asks causing ushijima to turn around and look at her worriedly

he begins walking over to y/n and places his hand on her forehead to check for her temperature

“are you alright? are you sick perhaps? maybe you should take the rest of the day off and rest” ushijima speaks to the poor doctor who turns even redder by the minute

“no no I am perfectly fine, it’s just that I’m overheating in my white coat, nothing else” y/n responds waving her hands in fast motion

ushijima chose not to question it but goshiki could tell she was lying

I mean who gets hot in a hospital, when it’s the middle of winter

“c’mon goshiki, we have to go. we don’t want to miss your playdate with shirabu now do we?” goshiki’s mother breaks the tense air

hearing his best friend’s name, he shook out of his thoughts and nodded quickly

“dr. ushijima, is it too much to ask for your autograph?” goshiki asks

ushijima turns to the kid and nods as if saying “I don’t mind”

ushijima takes a piece of paper out of the functioning printer and grabs a pen from the cup placed near the computer

he signs the paper, writing a little note for the baby mushroom boy

he hands it to goshiki and as he reads it, he squeals

to my number 1 fan, thank you for your support :)

goshiki grabs his mother’s hand leaving the examination room, waving to the two doctors

not missing ushijima staring at y/n’s smile as she waves happily back to goshiki

“are you sure you’re feeling well y/l/n?” ushijima asks

“I am perfectly fine, thank you for checking up on me” y/n responds

they stare fondly at each other and begin leaning towards one another before a certain red head barges in to tell ushijima that his patient is here

“USHI YOUR 2:30 IS HERE, OH SHOOT! TAKE YOUR TIME :)” tendou screams causing the two to break apart

just a side but semi and kawanishi definitely watched the whole thing, banging their head against the wall while cursing at the stupid red head

before anyone comes for me I love tendou but they’re mad he cockblocked

“I should go see my patient” ushijima says curtly, bowing at the female doctor and making his way to the examination room his patient is currently waiting in

y/n is fanning herself while thinking about the moment she had with the handsome doctor while her two nurses are cursing out the red head

“YOU COULD’VE WAITED LIKE FIVE MINUTES, WE WERE SO CLOSE TO ENDING OUR MISERY” -kawanishi

“TENDOU YOU IDIOT I HATE YOU” -semi

I don't usually do POV changes but THIS IS NO LONGER TAKING PLACE AT THE DOCTOR’S OFFICE BUT IT’S GOSHIKI AND SHIRABU’S PLAYDATE

goshiki makes his way into shirabu’s house

he bows at shirabu’s mother before making his way to his best friend’s room

“SHIRABU, I MET USHIJIMA TODAY!!” goshiki screams

“asahi (god), can you please keep it down” shirabu responds

goshiki then explains what went down in the doctor’s office while shirabu listens intently, ears perking up at the mentions of goshiki’s female physician

“wait, what did your doctor look like” shirabu asks poking goshiki’s tummy with one of his taped fingers

goshiki goes on to explain her appearance and shirabu can suddenly picture her due to...

“oh my asahi, ushijima has her picture as his phone wallpaper and he’s always staring at it during our volleyball lessons” shirabu says to goshiki

“that’s funny because when he walked into the examination room, dr. y/l/n kept staring at him and always turned red whenever he was mentioned. do you think they’re like best friends?” goshiki asks

“no you idiot, they like each other” shirabu says, hitting his forehead at his best friend’s stupidity

“but dr. y/l/n said she doesn’t like him like that” goshiki responds

“but why would she tell her secrets, especially to some kid she just met goshiki” shirabu says, internally questioning his friendship with his fellow bowl cut mate

after arguing about it back and forth, shirabu ended their verbal dispute by throwing a volleyball nearby and effectively hitting goshiki in the forehead

pls stop the goshiki abuse, just praise the poor boy :((

“okay, forget about this arguing. but goshiki I think you know what we have to do” shirabu said smiling deviously, gears turning in his small mind

thus the children begin plotting operation: you should have come to volleyball lessons

a/n 2: hello!! ik it’s been awhile but I’m currently having to deal with getting ready for college so there’s a lot of meetings, stress, and getting all my paper work in. the updates will be kind of slow because I want to make sure all the updates are decent in length but also has a good story line and written well (it’s probably still pretty bad but I'm trying my best) but thank you for your continuous support and I hope you're enjoying the series so far :)) <33

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima imagine #hq x reader #hq imagines #hq scenarios

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cloveroctobers · 4 years ago

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GENEVIEVE ALIU —

IG info/bio: @/genevealiu1 | 19k followers | currently on a journey as a junior doctor living in 🇦🇺🤎 | blm.card.co🖤 | sk💛

26 years of age

Born and raised in Glastonbury, England

Pisces sun? + libra moon?

Mother is Guyanese and works for a non-profit organization

Her father is Nigerian and works in property management

has one older brother who is a Prosthetist and resides in Nigeria with his pregnant fiancée

She can’t wait to be a auntie!!!

And a younger sister who is a medical laboratory technician

To say the least, their parents were happy that their children fell into the medical field. Based on their cultures it was a honor to have their children in these professions

Vieve grew up with a sassy demeanor and her parents have old videos on their camcorders to prove it lol, it never fails that the pair brings out the embarrassing vids during the holidays but vieve genuinely appreciates them

Although thanksgiving is a RACIST American thing, vieve never misses the opportunity to share what she’s thankful for in life and counts all of it as blessings! But it’s still fuck the pilgrims

Has held a friendsgiving before, loves any moment where she can host gatherings or attend them! either is quite fine. She loves being around people

the only time she likes to look back on the past is to see how she and her family carried themselves then and how the evolved into who they are now, it’s interesting to see

Loves “how it started vs how it’s going” posts and might have participated in a few

Always knew from a young age that she wanted to help people in some way, she was always doing something to help around the house and especially her aging/sickly grandparents

Felt offended that many people around school that she thought were her friends would stab her in the back labeling her as this “fake saint” since she rather spend her time volunteering instead of going to house parties in hs

Don’t get it twisted, she still went to those too & had her fun but definitely felt like it was the same routine and nothing ever felt fulfilling at these functions after awhile

Well known with all the cliques around school but had her own group of friends that fit into many of those cliques but she never felt obligated to stick to one social group. If you were nice and cool with her, she was the same to you, if you weren’t? Depending on her mood, she’d ignore you/say things under her breath or be “fake nice” as a form of being the bigger person

Has a curly hair routine that she consistently follows (after struggling to find the right products to make them flourish) and gets annoyed with if her curls don’t turn out the way she knows they can, it’s always frustrating when things don’t turn out the way you want them to but isn’t afraid to at least try

Three times is the charm! Is one of her mottos

loves bright colors, flowy attire, big hats, brimmed hats, bucket hats, berets, etc...

Has faced racism/prejudices and bullying growing up in public spaces—mostly school/uni & some of those same hatred actions online now that she’s dating seb

Because of that there were times where she felt insecure but deff grew to forgive, heal, and rise above the hate, she knows her worth

Has never been happier in a relationship than she is with seb, he’s her “moody long-haired, soft-hearted bby”

they’re both complete fools for each other and vieve is more vocal about her being in love/finding her soulmate whereas seb doesn’t mind showing it rather than speaking it—even tho he’s on a podcast but we mind our business okay?!

Seb is thinking of moving to Australia with vieve, he’s ready to risk it all for this woman, HIS woman 🤩

canon: gives more than she should/taken advantage of/not reciprocating in relationships... ex) how she dated a guy that she did everything for! especially financially and also struggled to find her worth but once she did? Her aura shined brighter than before— Ik chill out there Rocco

Also believes in loving yourself first to attract what you need in this world and found that in her career and seb. I hope they’re endgame! Since they’re the only couple I rooted for this season? Except for tai & ciaran maybe? They’re probably not endgame but whatever

They still get nervous/shy around each other even tho they’ve been together for months now + are in a long distance relationship which is too cute! I think since they’re in this for the long game they can look back on moments and still feel the way they felt in that moment. You know if you get the chance or have already heard elderly people talk about their relationships and how they get all starry eyed? That’s vieve & seb, that shit gets me right in my feels ew

Vieve’s love language is quality time, it’s what she shows and likes along with acts of service from her partner

Makes the best jollof rice & her fav dish is Metemgee

Trying to be on a plant-based diet only but will have her cheat days on occasion—mostly when she’s drunk and forgets her diet plan lmao that’s me getting double cheeseburgers or anything with dairy drunk af

now living in Australia, she tried to like vegemite but...the it’s a no for her, respectfully ofc! She never wants to disrespect anyone

besides the food, the atmosphere is much nicer since she feels like she’s on a holiday almost everyday and that there’s much more to see and do when she has the time

Loves the beaches and is thinking about surfing lessons

yes she enjoys those doctor shows and can agree that most scenarios are not the same as rl ofc but great question!

Since she’s a junior doctor now, and on her way to graduation! She feels so accomplished and having this chance to complete what she’s wanted her whole life in a different place, makes her super emotional

All those stressful all-nighters will be worth it. She mostly did it on her own but is nothing but humble and Is thankful to those that have helped her along the way, what kind of person would she be if she didn’t mention them?

and when COVID hit, she was one of many already on the frontlines. Her studies became altered but this wouldn’t stop her for her mission on this earth, this was her purpose and she knew we would conquer it all—but definitely has empathy and gets angry with how it’s being handled from time to time

She’s been exposed to it first hand which aboustely worries her parents, seb, her friends, and friends from the villa

Keeps up to date when all medical news, has a whole app dedicated to health

Learning French with some of her free time and is doing well at it

It was only natural for her to become closer to elladine since their men are homies and have a podcast together

They’ve hung out a few times on a double dates before the boat vacation & once just as girls before vieve left to Australia

Vieve is always offering advice but knows that every relationship is different and what works for her and seb won’t work for elladine and Nicky, she loves them together and knows everyone has bumps in the road

feels there’s some sort of tension between her and Harry now? Which she found a little off putting since they were supposed to be friends but she realizes that Harry has a condition but it’s also not an excuse for him to treat her shitty sometimes which he does and feels like it comes out of nowhere most times but he always apologizes yet vieve is slowly getting tired of this unhealthy habits

So they’re talking less these days, which he notices!

She wants Harry to find his happiness too! If he hasn’t found it in mc first that is

has met Tim— he’s a great laugh and seems like a nice guy—they follow each other, talia and jake in person when she was out with seb—they were also super nice and congratulated them on their win, she went up to miles once on a night out—he’s still a arsehole, priya reached out to her via dm about her new boutique that she wanted her to model in someday, Hope was just as stunning in person along with Siobhan, Chelsea & mc s2 were also kind, and a couple of the guys also wished her and seb well

She’s also noticed some of the shit talking coming from Elisa, Allegra, Lucy, and mc s1 (subtle shade from mc, basically about how vieve reacted if mc decided to give Harry a go but that was only brought to her attention thru fans) online but again, vieve peeped it and felt majority of it didn’t require a response. She was too happy in life rn and she had a man and they don’t

Plans to get a komondor, thinks they’re super cute! — seb does not “if you love me, you’ll love our child.” “It’s a bloody mop dog! And I’m a cat dad, you know that!” “Don’t talk about him like that, he’s got feelings just like your cat babies!”

I feel like she’s a matcha & Frappuccino lover, tries to keep her drinks simple and feels guilty when she has to make adjustments but the heart wants what it wants

Mini Countryman owner, she also drives like a “granny” better safe than sorry! She hates fast drivers, there’s absolutely no need for it!

Minimal makeup: eyeshadow, moisturizer, & a nude lip and she’s good to go

Secretly obsessed with among us, second life, and SIMS!!!

Celeb crushes? Heath ledger, Tyler posey, KENDRICK SAMPSON, Jordan fisher, Algee smith, Donald Glover, Mack Wilds, Khleo Thomas, Robert Ri’chard, Tahj Mowry, & Hasan Minhaj

Listens to: DaniLeigh, ABIR, Mary J. Blige, TORI KELLY, Us the duo, 11:11, Jacob Latimore, fifth harmony, joya mooi, & Greentea Peng, etc...

Anthem: The Cheetah Girls — Cinderella

#litg #litg3 #litg s3 #litg genevieve #litg moodboard #litg headcanons #litg headcanon #litg seb #litg Harry #litg mc #litg oc #litg elladine #litg Nicky #idk if I did her justice but my apologies to her and y’all if not lol #litg Tim #litg talia #litg jake #litg priya #litg hope

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piratejct · 4 years ago

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* 𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐲, 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 + 𝐡𝐞 / 𝐡𝐢𝐦 | you know 𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐦 𝐛𝐚𝐮𝐞𝐫, right? they’re 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 years? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐣𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐬 by 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞 like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole 𝐨𝐢𝐥-𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is 𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟑𝐫𝐝 so they’re an 𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

NAME: adam bauer NICKNAME(S): n/a, but you’re welcome to change that xx D.O.B: april 3rd, 1992 AGE: 29 BIRTH PLACE: san diego, california CURRENTLY RESIDING: irving, north carolina SEXUALITY: bisexual OCCUPATION: freelance mechanic & bartender at scuba

BACKSTORY:

tw: mentions of kidnapping, attempted murder, drugs, overdose, death, drunk driving, car crash, self-loathing.

80% of your life has been all but worth it. are you in the right place? failure, guilt and persistent hollowness occupy your entire being, nibble at the slab of meat inside your head, keeping you up night after night. where did things go wrong? were you destined to be this way? you were born into a middle class household that lasted only a couple of years. you were six, your sister three when the police came knocking on the door. the last time you saw your father was on the tv, the very next day when he had officially become the town’s own boogeyman. later, you learned he’ll spend the rest of his days in prison –– a punishment still not good enough for a kidnapping and two counts of attempted murder.

frantically, your mother packed the bags and not even a month later, you could officially consider yourself a resident of irving. it was a promising new beginning, until it wasn’t. your mother found a man, an alright man –– or so she had thought at the time. he always remembered to say hi to you, smile in the doorway, so you used to think he was okay, too. after all, he was not locked up in a cell, and that immediately made him better than some. after a year of a seemingly healthy relationship, your mother had the third baby and the thought of a happy family was ever so exciting. but of course, before they could even decide on a name, the man was gone. vanished, with any hopes the now single mother of three had had.

you grew up faster than most of the other kids in class. you didn’t have a choice. every day, you’d help your mom around the house, and while you wouldn’t realize it, you were her rock. and she? she was your best friend. at one point, your only friend. the kids at school wouldn’t die for you. they thought you were stupid, because whenever you’d read out loud, your voice would shake. you’d get nervous and you’d stutter, which made your voice shake even more and barry with the crooked teeth laugh even harder. they didn’t understand why you couldn’t just read the words, and for the longest time, you didn’t either. not even after the doctor gave it a name: dyslexia.

but you couldn’t blame it all on a learning disorder. sure, it was difficult, but it’s not like you had the drive to try, despite it. school wasn’t your forte and being book-smart would never be on your resume. even though your grades were known for being just a tad below average, you graduated, but didn’t leave it at that. god, you probably should’ve. but you wanted your mother to be proud. and so, you applied for university in a different town. to everyone’s surprise, they accepted the half-assed application without even acknowledging the numerous spelling errors. your mother hugged you tight, cried into your chest. she told you she loved you and you genuinely believed her. and then like every man in her life, you went off to disappoint her.

you changed your major twice before dropping out altogether. instead of attending lectures, you started selling drugs around the corner, always keeping yourself sufficiently high, too. it felt like an easy life, until they busted your ass. the student loan was cancelled and you were kicked out of the dorms. for months, you’d go between couch-surfing and sleeping in remote locations, all while doing heavy drugs and calling home every tuesday to tell your mom everything was going just great. then, they found you unconscious in a bathroom stall. accidentally, you had taken one too many.

after that, you had no choice but to come clean and return back home, where you’d spend months in rehab while wondering if being a person is really your calling. no matter where you went, you just couldn’t fit in. while your siblings were close, you were an outsider, an intruder in your own home and the prime example of what not to do in life. your half-brother was the polar opposite, and every day, you’d watch him succeed, no matter what it was. highest grades, captain of the football team, the perfect boy next door –– the complete package. he knew he was better and you hated him for it.

he had just started studying business at the local university. he was eighteen, his spirits always high. he was the life of the party, of every party. that night, he had driven himself, taken your mother’s car with the promise of returning it in one piece. the plan was to stay overnight, but due to issues you couldn’t even be bothered to hear about, it wasn’t a possibility. he called around 3 in the morning, drunk and asking if you could be a good brother, just this once, and pick him up. naturally, you were too tired and too bitter to cooperate. “figure it out, buddy.”

and he did.

the police said the body was near unrecognizable, the car wrecked, in pieces on the side of the road. you fucked up. you fucked up real bad. and your mother? fuck, she was too nice to you. too supportive. she only blamed you once, wine drunk and miserable. “tell me, adam. where did i go wrong?” and “if you weren’t so awful to people all the time, your brother would still be with us.” in that moment, you wished it would’ve been you. and three years later, you still do.

PERSONALITY, OR LACK THEREOF:

+ self-sufficient, loyal, protective - aloof, stubborn, hotheaded

x rough around the edges. resting face screaming “permanently pissed off”. favorite party-trick revolves around looking as unapproachable as possible. not a horrible guy, but he is a deeply unhappy person. at this point, however, he’s pretty much used that being the norm. has learned to live with it.

x has a hard time letting his guard down. tends to isolate himself, doesn’t let people too close because he genuinely seems to believe he’s better off on his own. at the same time, persistent loneliness is what keeps him up at night. can someone please hold him? but.. instead of establishing deep, personal connections, he does tend to sleep with people and not talk to them again. thinks that if he doesn’t let anyone close enough, they won’t be able to fully hate him for who he actually is.

x can go from being this chill, mellow, i-don’t-care to full blown anger. temperamental, confrontational when provoked, stubborn enough to stick with whatever he believes in. don’t catch him on a bad day. that being said, he’s much gentler around women. guys, on the other hand? piss him off just enough and you’ll get your ass kicked. men can make his soul angry and his dick hard.

x overall, there is some suppressed softness there but you’re not getting any of it unless you’ve unlocked level 109 friendship. <3 sorry <3

x because of past experiences, he tends to stay away from heavy drugs. however, he does like to smoke some weed every now and then. (read: everyday, bro.) and even though he doesn’t really deal, if you need a bud or two, you can hit him up and hope for the best.

x sarcastic and tends to act unbothered, but is actually very protective of these few people he’s actually allowed himself to care about. don’t mess with his folks, folks.

x chainsmoker. smokes everywhere, even in bed.

x is currently renting an apartment with one or two other people. works as a freelance mechanic while also bartending at scuba. on the side, he also dabbles in music, mainly synth but he can also play guitar. however, it’s not something he talks about because, um, he’s insecure. :) to be fair, though, he definitely doesn’t suck.

x his alcohol tolerance is spot-on, so at least he’s got that going for him. he’s also pretty street smart. and despite usually not being one for physical contact, boy actually gives amazing hugs.

x momma’s boy at heart. king of cool hairstyles by choice.

x don’t talk about his brother. or do! how much do you need teeth, really?

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

everything basic, essential and beyond. give me:

housemates

best friend

some other close friends

hook-ups

exes (good and bad terms)

enemies. someone to fistfight with!

childhood friends

drug/party buddies

co-workers

and whatever your heart desires x

#irvingintro #guten tag welcome to this pile of crap <3 #i wrote this at 5 am while facetiming shakespeare

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hanamuranobuyuki · 3 years ago

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About the Amanda, Jyushi, Jiro, Love, Life series

Today I thought I would try to give a little bit of insight to the ongoing series right now. It’s surprisingly been a couple of months since I began this journey, and with how much I have planned to write for this, it will probably take a few more until I’ve written all that I have planned out. With the sheer length of these works it does take a long time, so I might have forgotten about a loooot of stuff, but I’ll try to list off the things I remember quq. If you’re interested in reading some of these backstories, you can after the line break^^

For those interested in reading the series as it gets updated, you can read it here! I hope you enjoy this!

To be completely honest, I should have been done with this little excursion after writing Amanda’s Journey to Bringing Jyushi Happiness. I thought that this much was enough, and I was having low confidence issues as to whether or not things were likable, if they were in character (or somewhat at the very least...) and the list could go on forever.

But ideas kept popping into my head and what was supposed to be disjointed scenes out of everyday life for Jiro and Jyushi as they manage a long distance relationship after only being together for a day turned into Closing the Distance Between Us..... quite comical if you ask me considering the word count just got longer from there *cries into the distance*

But to tell you the truth, I’m happy I continued this journey despite the challenges. I feel like the way I’m progressing through this is giving it a more complete story that embodies the “circle of life and love” I imagine thanks to Amanda’s existence. This is also the reason why I named the series the Amanda, Jyushi, Jiro, Love, Life series. It’s a circle of connections, founded by Amanda, and it branches off into love for Jyushi and Jiro, which betters their life and/or changes it drastically from what it could have been. So with that kinda pushed out of the way, lemme tell you about some good old background info.

1. Amanda’s Journey to Bringing Jyushi Happiness is not my first Jiroshi fic

... it’s just the first one I’ve completed. After being immersed in the Hypmi fanfic archives and devouring the sweetness that is Jiroshi I started thinking about things I could write. The first one came in the form of Jyushi wearing red lipstick, which to this day I don’t know if I’m making it fluff or more explicit but I was hooked on the idea and... stopped writing 500 words into the work. The second one came in the form of An Outrageous Circumstance. I wasn’t surprised about Buster Bros making an appearance in my strange dreams, but after reflecting on it I realized I could use this and switch Jyushi with me in the dream plot. I fortunately did manage to finish writing that, so if you’d like to read that, you can here.

Amanda’s Journey to Bringing Jyushi Happiness was born from the concept that Amanda has more of an importance to Jyushi’s life than ever imagined. I wondered, what would happen if Amanda had a soul and supported Jyushi? And from there this was born. Initially I was content with leaving it as it was since I didn’t know just how much power I could give Amanda, but they grew on me so much okay? I practically love Amanda as much as I do Jyushi and Saburo. I can’t produce them tho aha... having Amanda as a support person is one of the best things I could write for Jyushi. And I hope people can enjoy this as much as I have.

2. The soulmates concept is mostly forgotten about 90% of the time for me.

Whenever I write more installments I forget that this is kind of a soulmates au, based on the fact that Amanda can see the fated linkage between Jyushi and Jiro. I always imagine this is kinda like a semi rewrite of canon world but at the same time it’s like it’s own little world quq. But whenever I have to stop and think about how much fluff I need to add and just sequential things like that... the soulmates concept come out. I guess I do have to thank myself for actually remembering about it every once in awhile XD

But I will mention that this fate concept will come out more in some of the newer installments. I have prewritten something a little more into the future that heavily talks about the fated pair deal. I hope you’ll look forward to it!

2.1. Why is Jiro the only one that has a fated string?

I wrote this specifically in Amanda’s point of view. If anyone had a fated string, Amanda would believe this person to be Jyushi’s fated partner, because their duty is to look over Jyushi and make sure he receives the happiness he deserves. Amanda cannot see the fated strings of anyone else in the world, because Jyushi is all Amanda truly cares about. Think of it as a special gift Amanda was gifted by the gods for their journey to giving Jyushi his happiness.

From here, I don’t know what else might be important, but I’ll list off some other things that might’ve been written in notes and other things like that.

3. Jyushi has “graduated” high school.

Jyushi’s school circumstances are kinda strange now that I think about it. THINKING ABOUT IT LOGICALLY, Jyushi should be a third year in high school at his age of 18 (or at least... I thought so lmao). Instead, I’ve given him a job and a life outside of school lol. So I’ll just say Jyushi got into school a little earlier than he should have thanks to his parent’s frequent travels abroad. He was raised by his grandmother most of the time, whenever his parents couldn’t stay in Japan. Around middle school, Jyushi transferred to a middle school that was closer to his grandmother’s residence, rather than feed into the middle school his elementary school was joined with, so then the commute from his grandmother’s residence wouldn’t be as problematic.

Amanda was born around this time, and they got to witness the extremely difficult times Jyushi faced. When Jyushi’s grandmother passes, Jyushi moves in with his aunt and uncle who lived in the next town over. Feeling bad about being a nuisance when they were planning on having a family, Jyushi finds a high school with a boarding plan so he doesn’t have to inconvenience them any more than he did. Along with these plans Jyushi also found part time jobs that were allowed in accordance to the school rules. This is where he finds his passion with making music, which is more than just listening to it and singing in general.

Jyushi was fortunate enough that he had his own dorm. Most of that reason came in the form of his “eccentric personality” which came out a lot whenever he was nervous. He had classmates who talked to him, but he didn’t really have friends. With that said and done, Jyushi quietly progressed through school and quietly graduated around his 18th birthday. He was already set with a job though, with the label he is currently under giving him a contract whilst in his third year of high school. The company officially advertises Argo Kishii Gakudan, and Jyushi becomes the lead singer who produces everything on his own. They gain popularity almost instantly thanks to the copious amount of lives they have done.

Technically, Argo Kishii Gakudan was already a couple years old however. They were made up of Jyushi’s upperclassmen that recognized his talent for music, Takeru, Jun, and Keisuke. You will see more of them in Side N. But because they were so small, and had to pay for all their bookings and everything on their own, going out to share their music, even when they were a hit in their frequent live houses, was nearly impossible. Thanks to the backing of their label, Argo Kishii Gakudan was able to perform around the country and do tours. The fateful one that brings Jiro and Jyushi together is their first one to Ikebukuro.

Jyushi in the current day doesn’t have many opportunities to see his mother and father. They’re successful in their own respective companies, and it shows in the way they send copious amounts of money to Jyushi whenever they can’t meet. Jyushi never has used it though, instead saving it and using only his own earnings from his contract and his previous part time jobs.

Sooo that’s my sorry attempt to document the reason why Jyushi doesn’t attend school lmao. And maybe a little insight on Argo Kishii Gakudan lol.

4. Room settings are soooo difficult to envision, especially whenever they’re different from whatever it is you’re looking at

When I started writing Side: I, and even before when I was writing the ending of Closing the Distance Between Us, I didn’t have the image of Jiro’s room to refer to. How I imagined his room was somewhat drastically different, and thanks to that, I ended up not really giving much of a description to those fics. As of today though, I wrote some hefty descriptions of Jyushi’s room because it’s building up on the imagery I had, in combination to Jyushi’s room in ARB.

You’ll get to read it in the next fic I post from this series. Hope you look forward to it!!

5. Music kinda defines a lot of my inspirations to adding to this series

I listen to music all the time while I’m writing. As a result, there are times I get sidetracked based on songs that come to the shuffle. When I wrote Amanda’s Journey to Bringing Jyushi Happiness and Closing the Distance Between Us, I shuffled a lot of the Hypmi music into my playlist, with a focus on Moonlight Shadow XD. But then I started writing Side: I, and then I came across a really inspirational song when I watched a Men’s Rhythmic Gymnastics routine. While I don’t really associate with the story this song was for, I love this song enough I played it on repeat for like. 80% of that fic entirely.

There’s a couple lines where Jiro thinks about how some romantic music would be playing in the background if it was a drama of some sorts, and this song was a tribute to the fact I was listening to one song... almost entirely. Please listen to it here.

For Side: I-02, another song was put on replay for a little while as well. I made mention of it in the upload post I did for that fic, but I’ll list it here as well.

I hope you’ll give these tracks a listen one day!

7. Some references kinda inside the fics.

I guess I’ll wrap up this mini list of nonsense by mentioning some things I’ve added into these fics based on inspiration from other things or just in random I guess.

Amanda’s Journey to Bringing Jyushi Happiness: I didn’t know how a love at first sight type of story with soulmates au would work out when I wrote it. I was inspired to write the arcade portion of the date because 1. I wanted to write a kiss segment. And 2. I thought arcade dates would be enjoyable XD.

Closing the Distance Between Us: I never expected this would be in sequential order, like I think I mentioned earlier. I intended on this being more like texting and messaging moments between the two while coping with their long distance relationship. Because of this... I... I don’t really know. I didn’t have an excuse to write this XD I just loved the two and my inspiration was the fuel that was this series? Ahahaha XD

You, Me, and Summer: Side I: a lot of romantic feels fueled this fic, among other things. I was inspired to write a whole lot on Jyushi’s hair routine bc of the tsunami season voice lines on ARB. When I did write this, I was also watching a sports anime called Bakuten. It is a Men’s rhythmic gymnastics anime, and it was what I mentioned when Jyushi watches the anime with Ichiro. The game that they all play is the Game of Life, more or less. I played a few games from the game boy edition just to get a grasp on the game ahaha. But the reason why I added this game was because the ARB event that ran me over with Jiro and Jyushi SSRs. They were event scout SSRs... and the fact that I was drowning in Jiroshi feels only to have MORE thanks to official content even if they weren’t in the same team just made me internally scream and dance all night long.

These two... destroyed my account in more ways than one. I’m now technically a Jiro and Jyushi stan rather than a Saburo and Jyushi stan bc Saburo or Ichiro on that matter never come home. But thanks to this I had to play enough to rank on two accounts. Thus... the one month delay.

Side I-02: because of this event, I decided that they should okay their own human sized Life game. I had to give tribute to the event that wrecked me aha. When I was writing this, I drew something on the side as well. . . And while I’m not sure I like it anymore, I thought I’d share it as well.

One hour of watching the sun rise and not being able to sleep led me to drawing this prototype on a whim. And because I’m a fan of drawing Jyushi’s wardrobe... I thought it would be fun ahaha XD I am a newbie still when it comes to digitally drawing but I am happy at how this turned out!

Finally, I will make mention of the haunted house. While hopping through logs on pixiv, I came across some log that showed how Jiro and Jyushi are scared of scary things, but Jyushi is like a sobbing mess and Jiro is just flat out scared. And later, I heard Jiro react negatively to a horror movie in ARB. When I heard this, I couldn’t resist the temptation! And since technically, Jiro and Jyushi don’t know more about each other than you would think, I thought it was a good opportunity to get them to know something else about them.

Sooo... I think that’s all I can think of right now! I hope you enjoyed learning about some of these small tidbits I could remember when I started working on this series. There’s a lot more to this you can look forward to, and I hope you look forward to it!

I will also apologize in advance for the sheer amount of mistakes there may be. I am my own beta, and I’m usually finishing these up at 5am like clockwork XD whenever I hit a slump in my writing, or miraculously reach the end of this series, I will make sure to clean them up I swear TTuTT thank you for understanding QuQ

If you have any questions, you can ask me here! I’ll try to get to them as quickly as possible. Thank you for taking the time to read this!

#hypnosis mic #aimono jyushi #yamada jiro #jiroshi #amanda-jyushi-jiro-love-life talks #behind the fic #please let me know if you wold like to learn more about any of these fics as I’m uploading them!#I do hope this is enjoyable for you to read!#Thank you for your support QuQ

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forgive-the-sea · 4 years ago

Text

bloom and wilt

Summary: You and Oikawa have been best friends since kindergarten, but what happens when he kisses you at a bar on the night of your 21st birthday?

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x Reader

Rating: M for Mature

Warnings: angst, implied sex but no actual smut, mentions of anxiety and alcohol use

WC: ~2.5k

A/N: Hi again! This is the longest piece I’ve written so far and I honestly dk how to feel about it. It just sorta poured outta me. Kinda ooc. Doesn’t follow the hq timeline after Oikawa graduates. I apologize in advance!

You hadn’t always been in love with your best friend. Falling in love with Tooru was a gradual process—like a flower about to bloom, nurtured by the care he showed you. The reassurance he provided and the safety you felt with him. How he made you feel like you could truly be yourself around him. How he seemed to know just how to comfort you. When you finally realized you were in love with him, it was like a flower in bloom—beautiful and hard to ignore.

How did we get here? You think to yourself as you lay together in bed, naked bodies tangled in each other’s embrace while you both come down from your high. You reminisce on your relationship with Tooru, slowly tracing shapes on his bare chest.

♥*♡∞:｡.｡

You met Tooru on the first day of kindergarten—both teary eyed and clinging on to your mothers by the school gate. When you caught sight of him you noticed that his backpack had a space ship on it and stopped your sniffling to offer a compliment. You’ve been close friends since.

Your elementary school days were spent obsessing over aliens and the stars together—shouting for joy when you found a toy capsule vending machine with alien figurines or glow in the dark star stickers and trading your best finds.

In middle school, Tooru began to focus on volleyball, so your time was often spent either helping him practice, watching him practice, or cheering him on at his games. You were so proud of him when he won the best setter award in your third year.

High school was the first time you two separated since kindergarten. You went to different schools, but your friendship was as strong as ever, if not stronger.

In your third year of high school, you were there to comfort him after Aoba Josai lost to Karasuno. You quietly listened to your best friend as he cried into your chest and explained how he felt like a failure for not being able to take his team to nationals. You reassured him that he had done his best. That his teammates admired him and believed in his leadership, regardless of the outcome of the match. That you admired his passion, dedication, and tenacity in pursuing his dream. You encouraged him to keep moving forward while rubbing his back and petting his hair as he held onto you tightly.

You loved Tooru, of course you did. He was your best friend, but around halfway through college your love for him began to take on a different shape—although back then you weren’t aware of it.

Around this time was when Tooru and his ex-girlfriend got together. He had even asked you for advice on how to confess to her. You thought it was funny that THE Tooru Oikawa, Miyagi’s resident heartthrob, was asking you for dating advice.

“Come on! I really like her! I want to do this right. I need help.”

You laughed and agreed to help, but you couldn’t escape the bitter feeling that settled in the pit of your stomach as you listened to Tooru talk about his crush. At the time, you chalked it up to jealousy. Yeah, that was it. You were a little bit jealous that this girl might take your best friend away from you. You didn’t have any feelings for Tooru yourself. No way.

After they broke up about a year later, Tooru was distraught. He wouldn’t tell you any details about the breakup, but you had a feeling it was bad. He wore the same fake smile you knew from your middle school days and he started to stay late at the gym after practice again.

Another year passed by and it seemed like Tooru had recovered from his breakup. He started seeing some girls casually, which alarmed you. You knew Tooru was a romantic at heart and you worried about him getting hurt while dating casually. He told you about how some girls were quick to invite him over to their dorms. About waking up naked in a stranger’s bed after blacking out at a party. And a bunch of other stories you would rather forget. Yes, Tooru always had girls falling at his feet, but he was never the type to overdo it on the alcohol or have casual sex.

When you expressed concern, he shrugged it off saying that he was being safe and that you should try to have a little more fun sometimes.

This was also around the time that you were trying to decide on plans for after graduation. Your anxiety was through the roof as you tried to complete an academic program that your heart wasn’t really invested in and as you struggled to decide on a career path to take. Tooru was there for you through it all and you couldn’t be more grateful to him for it. He was there to talk you through your late night panic attacks, offering words of encouragement. There to distract you from your thoughts by taking you for late night walks. He was there to bring you your favorite treats when he knew you’d had a particularly tough week. But it wasn’t until after he kissed you at the bar on your 21st birthday that you realized you had romantic feelings for him.

The kiss was something unexpected yet somehow expected. Unexpected because you never thought you would be kissing your childhood best friend. After all, you had done your best to suppress any hint of romantic feelings you might’ve felt for him and Tooru had never given you any indication that his feelings for you were anything more than platonic. On the other hand, the kiss was kind of expected because Tooru hadn’t been subtle in his advances that night. He used whatever excuse to touch you. Warming your hands in his when you began to shiver from the cold winter air entering the bar. Playing the hand slap game and letting his palms linger under yours for longer than needed.

His eyes were filled with a playful flirty tenderness that had you bashfully looking away whenever your gaze met his. Maybe it was the alcohol but you wanted him closer. As if reading your mind, he got up from his seat across from you at the booth and slid in next to you, putting his arm around you.

“You’re shivering. Are you still cold?”

“No, I’m fine,” you say while your mind races trying to process what was happening between you two.

You look up at him and he’s looking at you with half lidded eyes, a clear want written on his face. You’re taken aback, never did you think that you’d be on the receiving end of Tooru’s romantic desires. Before you know it his lips are on yours and your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets in realization that this is really happening right now. No, no, no. Tooru is your best friend. This is going to make things weird. But to your and Tooru’s surprise you soon melt into the kiss. Tooru is the first to pull away, breathless.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he says while smiling and caressing your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

You see, Tooru had been in love with you since he met you on the first day of kindergarten. He thought you were beautiful the moment he saw you and only fell more in love with you as time went by. He learned that you were bold, funny, smart, and one of the most caring people he knew. He loved that he could be vulnerable with you and show you a side of himself that he rarely showed others. But Tooru was too scared to do anything about his feelings for you. Too scared to ruin your friendship if he were to confess. So he kept his feelings to himself and vowed to care for you as your friend.

♥*♡∞:｡.｡

That first kiss lead you to where you are now. It was like opening the proverbial flood gates. Since then neither of you were able to keep your hands off the other.

You had never felt like this about anyone. Being with Tooru was electrifying. Like a small spark had turned into a raging fire within you with just a kiss.

While you both had definitely crossed the line beyond a platonic relationship, neither you nor Tooru had initiated a conversation about what the change meant. So you decide to take the plunge.

“Tooru?” You look up at him from where your hands played with his chest.

“Hmm?” He responds, his eyes still closed, basking in the afterglow of your earlier activities.

“What does this mean for us?” Your voice is quiet but firm as you try to control it from giving away how nervous you are.

“What do you want it to mean?” Tooru asks, now titling his face down to look at you. He seems calm, you note, as you take in the warm brown of his eyes. Had they always been this enchanting?

“Tooru, I love you. I think I have for a while, but was too scared to admit it to myself. I want to be with you. As more than just friends.”

A look of surprise takes over his face for a moment before he breaks out into a mischievous grin.

“You mean like best friends?” He can’t stop himself from being a little shit even when the girl he’s loved since kindergarten was finally reciprocating his feelings.

“No!” You exclaim as you lightly smack his arm. I can’t believe this is happening, you think to yourself as you shake your head. “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

He lets out a breathy laugh and butterflies flutter in your stomach for the umpteenth time that day. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He takes your face in his hands and kisses your forehead before pulling away to look at you.

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

Your eyes widen at his confession.

“But I’m scared. I don’t want our friendship to be ruined and I don’t want to ever lose you. You mean so much to me and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“W-what do you mean?” You manage to ask in a soft voice as you sit up, using his bedsheet to cover up, hoping it’ll make you feel less exposed, less vulnerable.

“I don’t think I’m ready to be in a relationship,” he answers while sitting up to face you.

You can feel your heart break.

“I’m immature and selfish. And all of my relationships have ended badly. I don’t want that to happen to us. You deserve someone better. And I would rather you be happy, even if it isn’t with me. I’m sorry.”

You struggle to take in what Tooru was saying. So what if his previous relationships ended badly? With you it’d be different, right? You’ve known each other for so long that you could surely deal with things in a mature way.

“I’m not perfect either. But we can work through problems as they come up, right? I want to make things work with you.” You hate how your voice cracks with that last sentence. You hate how it sounds like you’re begging.

“I’m really sorry. There’s nothing I want more than to be with you but I just...can’t. He pauses for a moment and looks away before looking at you again with a determined look on his face. “I won’t risk our friendship.”

Tooru’s not making any sense and you can feel your sadness turn into anger.

“You won’t risk our friendship?” You scoff. “You should’ve thought about that before kissing me at the bar!”

“I-it’s just easier if there are no feelings involved,” he says looking down at his hands, growing uncomfortable at your display of emotions.

“I can’t believe this,” you say as you get up to get dressed.

Tooru watches you dress with worry. “So what now?”

You sigh, “Well, no more sex. I don’t want to be in a friends with benefits situation. That never ends well.”

“I guess that’s for the best. I’ll miss it though,” he says with a dreamy look that you catch out of the corner of your eye.

You contain the bitter laugh that threatens to escape you. As much as you want to cry and scream, you can’t bring yourself to let Tooru see you like that. So instead you turn to give him a soft, but sad smile. “Me, too.”

You walk out into his living room to collect your bag before leaving and Tooru follows after you. “Are we still friends?”

You’re silent as you walk to the door and put on your shoes. “I’d like to still be friends. But I don’t know. I guess I’ll need some space.”

He nods in understanding, a somber look on his face.

You turn away from him to open the door but you stop when your hand lands on the doorknob. You slowly turn back around to face him again and shut your eyes, your hands balled into fists at your side.

“One last one,” you whisper and Tooru knows exactly what you mean.

He walks over to you and pulls you to him by your waist. You take his face in your hands and crash your lips together. Your lips feel feverish against his; heat running through your body as you try to pour all your love for Tooru into this last kiss.

Tooru's lips are soft and move slowly against yours. His kiss feels so tender, so caring and it effectively calms your initial desperation. Your movements now mirror his, lips and tongues expressing what your words failed to. I love you. I care for you. I always will.

You break from the kiss but keep your face close to Tooru’s, your nose pressed against his and your eyes closed, trying to etch the feeling of him into your memory. Tooru pulls away slightly when he feels your tears on his face. You use your thumbs to wipe your tears off his face and give him a smile as you attempt to compose yourself. “Bye, Tooru.”

You close the door behind you and make your way home, navigating the familiar streets of your neighborhood on autopilot as the tears you were trying to hold back now flow freely down your face. How were you even going to begin to get over Tooru? All the love you carried for him now weighed you down and your heavy heart felt like the wilted petals of a flower that was once in bloom.

#oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #tooru oikawa x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa x y/n #oikawa imagine

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euphoriahrs · 4 years ago

Text

bittersweet | jjk [i.may]

» pairing: manhwa artist!jeongguk x oc

» genre: roommate au

» synopsis: it’s easier to act indifferent than to show vulnerability.

» word count: 2.2k

» disclaimer: contains strong language, but very little

» rated pg 13

*lowercase is intended*

[series mlist]

chapters: i. | ii. | iii. | iv. | v. | vi. | vii. | viii. | ix. | x. | xi. | xii.

a/n: this is my first book, so don’t forget to reblog and let me know what you think about it!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 late spring heat welcomed haewon’s skin as she exited the apartment building with a satisfied smirk and made her way to the park.

the town that she lived in was not that far from the city but close enough so she could go anytime she wanted. it was more peaceful in this town whereas, in the city, there was commotion all day and night.

since she was little, she loved being alone with her thoughts in silence. during her school years, she was okay with being a loner. sure she had friends she would hang out with from time to time, but she preferred having time to herself. now that was something that she rarely had the privilege of having since she moved into her apartment and got a job.

the complex that she stayed in was well kept, not the best of the best, but good enough. the rent was manageable since she shared the apartment with a roommate that she had gotten to know during the past couple of months. the roommate in question was a special case, one that she either enjoyed or despised, but mostly despised.

her legs unconsciously strolled past the numerous buildings on the streets, though one, in particular, caught her eye, one that she hadn’t noticed before. letting curiosity take over, she decided to take a detour and have a peek at the building.

when she got closer it turned out to be an ice cream parlor. the building had a cute but simple modern style to it.

a bell rang as she walked in alarming the worker that there was a customer. she looked around, noticing the green and white modern furniture.

“hello! welcome to rocky’s road!” the girl greeted in a bored state.

haewon glanced at the girl, she was quite pretty, she had a cute girl next door appearance. she was average height, maybe shorter, with honey skin, straight black hair, brown doe eyes, and cute round lips.

haewon, who had slightly sharper features and a slightly darker skin tone, with dark hair that was dyed with ash purple highlights that was always kept in a ponytail, gave her a more mature appearance compared to the girl.

“hi,” haewon approached the register with a small smile. enjoying the smell of fresh waffle cones. “what can i get you today?” the girl asked.

haewon glanced at her name tag, yujin, then directed her attention to the menu on the wall. feeling slightly overwhelmed as there were so many different flavors and combinations to choose from, she continued to stare at the possibilities.

yujin noticed her struggle. “i recommend our special the rocky mountains, which is three scoops of our homemade rocky road in a waffle bowl with drizzled chocolate syrup on the bottom two scoops, marshmallow sauce drizzled on all three and chocolate chips sprinkled all over!” she excitedly explained.

haewon rubbed her chin contemplating whether she should get the treat or not.

after a couple of seconds, she grinned, “sure, i’ll take one of those.”

“that’ll be $4.74. you won’t regret it!” yujin chimed. haewon half smiled, “i hope i won’t,” she paused and adds, “has this place always been here?” still wondering why she hasn’t noticed it before.

“no, we just opened a couple of days ago. there used to be another restaurant here, i don’t remember what it was, but I do know that they ran out of business after drunken fights repeatedly happened and it ruined their image, so no one wanted to dine in,” yujin replied preparing the ice cream.

haewon let out a soft ‘oh’ and walked away to one of the chairs close by. she looked around to get more familiar with her surroundings and pulled out her phone to play a game to help pass time.

suddenly it felt like all of the air was pushed out of her lungs when she remembered what the building used to be. this building used to be the pizzeria that she had been wanting to visit since she moved to this area but never had the time to due to the schedule of her job.

she let out a heavy sigh and turned off her phone not being in the mood to play her game anymore. she dropped her head onto the table to cope with the pain. yujin shot her head up to make sure her customer was okay before focusing back on work.

“i was hoping that i’ll get a chance to eat there soon,” haewon internally groaned. that was the only place that seemed to have decent pizza in this town. she groaned again when another wave of sadness and regret washed over her as she grieved.

a few minutes passed and yujin brings out her finished ice cream and smiled cheerfully, “here’s your order,” she paused, “earlier it seemed as if you were upset about that restaurant not being here anymore. i’m sorry for that, but now you have the parlor that you can come to anytime you like,” she smiled cheekily, “so your next order will be on the house,” trying to cheer the girl up.

haewon was about to object the offer but yujin continued to speak, “i’m actually new to this town and haven’t had the chance to meet anyone yet because i’ve been busy working and organizing my apartment… so would you like to possibly hang out sometime?” she perked with puppy eyes.

haewon froze for a second thinking yujin was coming off a little too strong but thought about how she needed new friends as well. she lost contact with her old friends from high school after they all graduated. she was the only one to lose contact with them, they on the other hand, were all still great friends and went to the same college. but due to her habits of not wanting to talk to anyone, she didn’t try to keep in touch with her friends even if she felt that she should’ve.

haewon nodded at yujin’s request not wanting her to be upset if she didn’t give her an answer in a few seconds.

yujin squealed, “i’m sure that you know my name already, but it’s yujin.”

haewon answered, “and i’m haewon.”

the two chatted for a little longer before haewon remembered that she wanted to go to the park, so they said their goodbyes and she was on her way.

she ate her ice cream on the way enjoying the peaceful outdoors around her, the calm before the storm she thought . her smile transformed into a smirk when she thought about what she did earlier that morning.

when the park was in sight, her thoughts quickly went away, excited to finally be able to reach her destination.

she skipped her way to the park, weaving through running kids to get to the abandoned set of swings that she found on a whim when she first moved into the area.

☽ ⋆ ☾

it was a brighter night than usual with the light of the full moon shining down. haewon thought that it was the perfect night to explore the new area, so she grabbed her phone and left the apartment that her residing roommate was currently knocked out in.

she casually strolled through the streets enjoying the quiet night and being in her thoughts when a playground across the street caught her interest. quickening her pace to cross the road, her feet made contact with the sidewalk and continued towards the playground.

she was looking around reminiscing to when she was a kid playing on the slides, chasing and tormenting other kids with bugs and worms when she noticed a silhouette in a wooded area not too far away from where she was. she headed deeper into the area, stepping on sticks and dead leaves on the way to search for what the object was.

carefully, she stepped closer until it was in view. it was a swing set. that had been left to rust and be forgotten, to spend the rest of its time falling apart until it was completely in shambles.

she was walking towards the set when she froze in place. there was a shuffling noise coming out of the bushes close by. her eyes widened and the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood up.

“it’s close to midnight, who would be out at- oh yeah, me.” she quivered. trying to calm down, she blindly tried to search the area but wasn’t very effective because the trees blocked most of the moonlight. so she waited a few seconds to see if the noise was going to reoccur before continuing to walk to the swings.

she didn’t even get to take five steps before there was another shuffle coming from the bushes.

she jumped in surprise and failed to land on her feet with a thud, mumbling a stream of explicit words as she got up. then she remembered that she took taekwondo and silently thanked the gods that her dad forced her to take those lessons back in middle school.

“i’ll have to thank dad later,” she pondered. feeling somewhat prepared, she stood up, dusted the back of her pants off, and got in position ready for anything that could come out of that bush.

a figure slowly started to creep out causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand up even further than before, if that was possible.

her nervous thoughts rapidly shot through her mind. trying as hard as she could to block them out, she quietly hummed a random melody that she thought of on the spot.

her eyes locked onto where the target currently was. the small amount of moonlight allowed her to at least see the silhouette of the figure.

after a few moments, the figure finally sprinted out. quickly gathering up her courage, haewon dashed right towards the figure but stopped midway letting out the breath that she didn’t know she was holding in.

“a cat?” she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in agitation.

“a cat got me that scared? a fucking cat?!” she exasperated. a few moments passed in silence so she could gather her thoughts. her whole life flashed before her eyes just because of a cat?

“boo!” she quickly spun in the direction of the voice only to find an older man that looked to be in his fifties standing proudly with his coat opened in his hands.

“wha-” she screamed with terror after she realized what she was witnessing while covering her not so virgin eyes.

in a split second, she ran at full speed towards the man. who once had a sly grin, now was shocked in place as she lunged her knee at his exposed balls and scurried her way back to the apartment.

☽ ⋆ ☾

she spotted the woods and ran for the swings.

while eating the rest of her ice cream, she listened to the late morning conversations of the birds along with the trees rustling in the background, shifting the sun’s rays. butterflies, dragonflies, and other little insects flew through the empty spaces filled with the sun’s rays, weaving through trees and other bugs. occasionally, she would see a butterfly or two become a bird’s lunch. the moving sun rays gently radiated off her skin as she looked at the ladybug that was chilling on the seat beside her. she enjoyed the relaxing ambiance before it was to be interrupted.

haewon got off of the swing and headed to the recycling bin for plastic to dump her empty ice cream bowl away. as she walked back to the swings suddenly a song from her favorite band the rose interrupted the conversations that took place around her.

a toothy grin appeared on her face. she looked at the time on her small wristwatch. it was about time that her roommate would decide to wake up since it was the weekend.

she grabbed her phone from her back pocket, her grin turning into the one the cheshire cat possesses and accepted the call. but before she could answer, a husky livid voice boomed through the speaker, “haewon! what the fuck is wrong with you?!”

her smirk not faltering one bit “what’s wrong?” she asked with her voice laced in fake concern and chuckling to herself, “this isn’t funny haewon! you’re as good as dead when you come back,” the voice shouted with irritation. haewon burst into laughter. her boisterous laugh combined with the booming voice coming from her phone occupied the area around her.

“don’t- don’t act like your the innocent one here,” she tried to say in between laughs still imagining how he must look being upset over such a harmless prank.

a few moments later and she’s hunched over with tears stained on her face. she heard her name being said on the other side of the phone. “see ya” she breathed heavily and hung up feeling too tired to talk to them anymore.

after she caught her breath and cleared her mind, she stood back up and wiped her face before making a beeline to the apartment ready to embrace the storm or maybe just a squall that she had awakened.

#bittersweet #bts #bts jungkook #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts series #bts wattpad #bts au #wattpad #jungkook series #jungkook fic #jungkook x oc #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #euphoriahrs

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imagine-darksiders · 5 years ago

Note

👏MORE👏DRAVEN👏CONTENT👏 (pls)

And what better way to satisfy the needs of Draven fans than to add onto this fic? Here’s the rest, if you’ve missed it.

BEAUTY AND THE DOORSTOP - CHAPTER 3.

Fashionably late.

Sparkling bursts of colour and light dance at the edge of your vision as the Chancellor leads you through his portal and you instinctively grip his forearm just a bit tighter. You'd done some portal hopping with Death in the past, and it always left you queasy for a few moments, as if your human body knows it isn't supposed to jump through a tear in the fabrics between realms, and as such, it makes its discomfort known.

Lips sealing into a firm line, you ignore the pressure in your head and push on, at last stepping out of the cold, empty wormhole and onto solid ground. In an instant, the pressure lifts and you suck in a soft breath. At your side, the Chancellor is smirking down at you, no doubt amused by your discomfort.

“Ugh, this is why I prefer using Vulgrim's serpent holes,” you gripe, running a hand absently down the skirt of your dress to smooth it of wrinkles, “They don't leave me feeling like my body's been squeezed through a pinhole.”

Behind you, the cosmic gateway disappears following a subtle wave of the Chancellor's arm.

“Tch! Why doesn't it surprise me that a human is more comfortable using such a common means of travel?” He waits for you to quip back, glancing down at you when his jab goes uncontested for a beat. “Human?”

But the undead's pallid gaze finds your attention elsewhere, eyes wide and alive and wandering in every direction but his. Realising what has you so enraptured, he tuts impatiently and forces himself not to stare at the gentle parting of your painted lips.

The Chancellor's portal has deposited you both just inside the entrance to the Eternal Throne's courtyard, where, beyond the narrow, wooden passageway, lays a sight you never imagined you'd be privy to in a hundred years. The space that had once been modestly sparse and occupied only by a handful of undead is now packed from rampart to rampart with a throng of otherworldly beings.

Angels, demons and even a maker or two - along with several other species that you don't recognise - mill about the courtyard, each species going that extra mile to avoid one another, which is a vast improvement from the alternative, you suppose.

The war may have ended, but thousands of eons of hate and animosity is not so easily forgotten, or forgiven. That the angels and demons present aren't at each other's throats is testament to the strength of their self discipline.

Oddly enough, there aren't as many undead as you imagined there would be, and those that are here have taken up positions on the upper ramparts, their weapons gleaming in light cast by hundreds of lanterns that have been painstakingly strung up over the courtyard.

As you and the Chancellor proceed out of the entryway, your eyes are drawn up to the sky.

Night, or what passes for night in the Dead Lands, has settled its velvet blanket over everything, rendering a horizon that stretches out like the void above you, almost black as pitch save for the subtlest touch of emerald tinged into its vast expanse. Even through the glow of lanterns, you can make out innumerable, winking stars, some bright, some dim, but all a dazzling, if unexpected sight. There's an effort here, a pride of appearance you'd never have anticipated from residents of the Dead Plains and you suddenly find yourself struck by the unsettling awareness that, just as the Chancellor hadn't bothered to look past face value with you, you in turn hadn't even considered that the Eternal Throne could be anything other than a dank and dreary place.

“It's beautiful,” you breathe as the Chancellor escorts you into the courtyard proper.

“Beautiful?” he echoes softly, his dull, grey eyes widening at your words and they follow your line of sight.

It isn't a term he's ever heard in correlation with the Land of Dead before, and likely never will again.

Beauty, in any form, has no place here, left behind and discarded by the denizens of this realm once they had died, and beaten out of the land itself by a cruel sun. The Chancellor cocks his head and hums at the stars, then trails a perplexed gaze down to you. After a pause, his perpetual frown lifts a fraction.

Trust a human to find the beauty in a dead world.

Heels clicking audibly on the wooden boards, you tear your eyes off the heavens and focus back on the throng of ethereal beings in your path instead. At your approach, a hush sweeps through the crowd as several of the less subtle guests swing their heads around to gawk, immediately causing you to swallow down the nervous lump in your throat and force a hesitant smile, failing to notice how the Chancellor has pressed a few inches closer and set his jaw, scowling hard at a leering phantom guard.

“Well,” you raise your voice for the gathered crowd, opting to make a joke out of the awkward situation, “I don't think I've had this many eyes on me since I fell off the stage at graduation.”

If the dead silence that follows is anything to go by, you'd say your attempt at humour wasn't best received, made only more obvious by the Chancellor's long-suffering but barely audible moan. “Look, if this were Earth, people would have laughed at that,” you hiss at him from the corner of your mouth, receiving no more than a dubious 'hmph’ in return.

After perhaps a few too many moments, chatter slowly resumes amongst the gathered crowd as they all return to previous conversations with just a few whispering conspiratorially about the newcomer in their midst. Once you don't find yourself drowning beneath the weight of all those stares, you visibly sag, your fingers unfurling from where they'd clamped down unwittingly on the Chancellor's elbow.

“If you are done embarrassing yourself,” he grumbles, “perhaps we could proceed? My Lord is expecting to address you personally.”

“Don't I feel special.”

The undead rolls his milky eyes and - with your arm still on top of his - strides forwards across the courtyard, leading you expertly between the mass of bodies. More often than not, you need to restrain your hands from brushing idly along an angel’s feathery wings, or lightly stoking the fur on a maker’s boot as you pass. The only thing keeping you from doing so is the grip you have on your undead escort’s arm while your other hand is occupied with keeping your dress’s hem off the dusty ground.

On the courtyard’s far side, slouched against a newel at the foot of the crumbling staircase is the Eternal Throne's resident blademaster, Draven. Sickly, pale grey skin stretches taut over a body made from nothing but bone and sinew. No blood pumps through his dried-up veins, no lips press together to hide a perpetual, skeleton grin and the heart that had once beat proudly inside his chest has been eerily still and quiet for centuries. So why then, when he tips his head around just in time to witness you emerge from the crowd, does something in Draven’s chest give a sudden lurch?

Time is no longer a relevant concept to the undead. Their bodies have already withered and rotted away to the bone. The passage of time has no meaning to the long-dead, yet watching you glide across the courtyard like a vision in a sleek, black dress, Draven would swear that time grinds to an immaculate halt and his jaw drops open so suddenly, it threatens to come loose from its hinges and clatter to the ground.

All else fades away, every angel and demon, every lantern hanging overhead and every undead patrolling the ramparts, even the sour-faced Chancellor beside you fades into a dull and lifeless background whilst you retain your vibrancy, bursting with colour and life. Nothing else seems as important to Draven's milky eyes as the woman before him. You are everything he sees for several, long seconds. Then, your head is turning towards him and your lips split open into that wide grin he's so accustomed to, the one that shows off your teeth and even a portion of gum. It's a smile he knows is reserved solely for very few people in your life, a smile that always leaves a rush of exhilaration in its wake when the blademaster remembers that he's one of the rare few who get to witness it.

Seeing your expression, Draven's own mouth tries to open in the same manner, but given any lack of lips, he merely ends up with something that closely resembles a grinning skull, which admittedly is hard to avoid, given that all the fat and muscle beneath his flesh has worn away, leaving nothing to keep the skin from plastering itself to his bones.

To you however, the blademaster’s spectral visage couldn’t be a more welcome sight.

Giddy with excitement, you slide your hand off the Chancellor's arm and at the same time, thrust the bottle of Cheval into his spindly hands. He sputters and fumbles with the slippery glass for a second, indignant at being treated as little more than a pack-mule. “Do you mind!?”

Evidently, you don’t, which only adds to the Chancellor’s mounting displeasure. His complaint is promptly ignored as you pinch the hem of your dress between two fingers and trot towards your friend, cheerfully laughing out his name. “Draven!”

Whatever spell you’d unwittingly bound the blademaster up in is suddenly broken at the sound of your voice. He barely has the time to come back to himself and spread his arms in anticipation before you crash against his chest, throwing your arms around him and digging with your fingers for purchase in between the notches of his spine.

“Y/n,” he returns, amusement dancing in his misty eyes. Despite the ease of his tone, Draven's sinewy arms press you firmly against him, squeezing tight enough that he inadvertently gives away just how much he's really missed you - your company, your touch, the smell of your hair when he leans down and pushes his nose ridge right into it, drawing air into his sand-choked lungs. If only he weren’t too proud to admit that your presence soothes an angry fire in his immortal soul.

All too soon though, the moment ends, and he feels you pull away to look up at him. But oh, how badly he wants to keep you there with your head resting on his exposed sternum and his dusty, green cloak billowing around you in the night’s gentle breeze. There are onlookers though, guests of his king with tongues that just love idle gossip, and it wouldn't be prudent to give them any inkling as to the nature of your relationship.

“God, it's good to see you,” you sigh through a smile, your hands sliding down to lay atop the blademaster's forearms whilst he cups your elbows in his strong hands.

His face is gaunt and heavily shadowed underneath the hood he wears, but his eyes still glow ethereally as he gives you a slow once over, exhaling a cool, stale breath that brushes invitingly over your lips. “Likewise,” is all he murmurs.

Shifting beneath his scrutinising gaze, you feel pressed to ask, “So...What do you think? Too much?”

“Huh?” Draven's white pupils dart up to your face again and he realises with some distress that he’d been leering at you, probably in an unsettling way, if your expression is anything to go by. “Oh! No, no, I think you look....” He pauses for a moment, trying to conjure something adequate, something that would let you know just how radiant you are without directly saying it. ‘Radiant.’ The word sounds so foreign and sophisticated in his head, more befitting of a charming suitor than a rotting, roguish knave such as himself.

So far, your relationship with one another has only lingered just beyond the realm of friendship, dotted intermittently by flirtatious repartee and the odd gesture of physical affection in a hug or the skimming of your hands along his arms. He daren't ask for anything further. You're already more than he's ever had, and most assuredly more than he deserves.

“...You look...indescribable,” he eventually settles on, because Creator knows he was never a well-read man when he was alive, and words beyond ‘radiant’ always seemed to escape his grasp.

The side of your mouth quirks upwards. “Indescribable? Well, now you're just playing it safe,” you tease, and before he can look too worried about having possibly offended you, your mouth stretches into an even wider grin and you add, “I'll take it.”

“You'll have to,” he replies with a hollow chuckle, “You won't be getting any more compliments from me tonight.” With that, he gives your elbows a playful squeeze and lowers his face towards you, his voice drifting lowly out of the tattered hood. “It really is good to see you...”

Ducking your head coyly to escape that profound and haunting gaze, you try to stop your cheeks from burning with the effort of smiling so wide, echoing the reply he'd given you earlier. “Likewise, blademaster.”

The pair of you are so caught up in one another's presence, you don't even notice the other undead glowering behind you, fists clenched around the bottle of Cheval so fiercely, its a wonder the glass doesn’t shatter.

This scene playing out in front of the Chancellor is one he's well accustomed to. He's had to bear witness to this sort of interaction multiple times in the past - you and the blademaster, practically arm in arm and fawning over one another like fairytale sweethearts... Had the Chancellor possessed a working uvula, he'd gag at every encounter.

This time however, the sight hits a bit differently. This is somehow harder to watch, and instead of his usual nausea, the Chancellor notices the faintest twinge of anger, heat of a different kind rising up under the collar of his robes. Without even realising it, the undead has begun to grind his rotting teeth until the bone of his jaw creaks loudly in protest of the pressure he's putting it under, like he's trying to chew through steel.

There's no conceivable rhyme nor reason as to why he so despises the sight of Draven's hands on you, drinking up the warmth your blood provides through his own, decaying skin! As if a master of blades were so much more deserving than the rest. You never even hesitated before you embraced him, as though his decomposing flesh were far less abhorrent to you than the Chancellor's had been, who pretended not to notice when you'd faltered as he offered you his arm in your home and your lips pursed distastefully, no doubt repulsed by the very idea of touching an undead. What makes Draven so worthy of that touch, all of a sudden? 'Hypocrite!' the undead's hateful mind screeches at the blissful ignorance on your face. There’s an anger in him, certainly, but his skull is too thick with pride to realise that his rage is a byproduct of something else. Something greener than the hooded robes he died in.

Unable to simply stand by and watch any longer, the Chancellor stiffly raises a fist and clears his throat loud enough that you flinch, whilst the blademaster merely tosses him a scathing look.

“Oh, you're still here?” you say, genuinely surprised, “I'd have thought you'd be dying to get as far from me as possible once we arrived.”

Draven smirks at your joke, but the older, angrier undead wears a scowl so deep, you fear his forehead will crumble to dust. Suddenly, before you can utter another word, he marches forwards, snatches up your wrist and tugs you out of the blademaster's loose grasp, proceeding to quite literally drag you up the wooden staircase that leads to the throne room.

“I think you've kept my Lord waiting long enough, human,” he spits, ignoring the defensive snarl Draven utters at your expense.

One of the steps nearly trips you up and would have succeeded if not for the Chancellor's iron grip. The moment you begin to stumble, he jerks his arm and all but lifts you over the stair, and if your eyes aren't mistaken, he even slows a fraction, just enough that you can right yourself without much trouble. There's no time to be shocked about it though. Twisting around to glance at Draven, you find him following you up the staircase and raising a hand out to snatch you back out of the Chancellor's crushing grip, but he stops short once you flash him a bemused smile. “Don't worry about me,” you call, lifting the hem of your dress so it doesn't get caught on a loose splinter, “I'll catch up with you later.”

The blademaster looks ready to protest, only pausing on the stair when you jerk your gaze over towards the courtyard, hoping he'll catch your drift. Bewildered, he glances over the railing, and understands. There are at least twelve pairs of eyes watching the commotion hungrily, some subtle with their heads tilted away but their ears pricked to listen, whereas others are far less wily in their nosiness, necks bent almost painfully over their shoulders and pointed at the stairs.

The message you'd conveyed in that look is now clear as Draven turns back to you and presses his teeth together, offering you a tight nod. 'Don't make a scene.'

As you reach the top of the steps, you can only shrug down at your friend before the Chancellor shoves you none too gently onto his other side, placing himself between you and Draven and barking for the undead at the door to let you both pass. Timid in the face of such abruptness, you softly thank the guard when he pulls the doors open. The Chancellor, of course, merely scoffs and presses the bottle of wine back into your arms with rather more force than is necessary.

Wood scrapes noisily against the ground as the entrance is slid open, the sound reverberating around a woefully sparse throne room. Unlike the newly decorated courtyard, this chamber has remained as cold and unadorned as you ever remember it being, with nothing but a few skulls scattered upon the pine-wood floor and a throne sitting proudly at the far end, upon which reclines the reason for your being here at all. To one unfamiliar with the denizens of this realm, it might appear that someone has stuck a halloween prop onto an enormous, stone chair, plopped a jagged crown on its head and called the whole thing a masterpiece. You, however, are more than aware that the bonafide corpse sitting in that chair is more than just dust and bone, and as soon as you step past the first pair of guards, it opens its eyes.

An involuntary shudder rolls over you when those twin lights of blazing green swivel in your direction. Suddenly, your ears fill with pops and snaps as the skeletal figure twists his neck around to follow his eyes, every bone fighting to be pulled free of the rigor mortis that has claimed them and set them into their rigidity.

The atrophied creature - a living corpse that somehow manages to look even deader than the rest of his subjects - gives his shoulders one, hard thrust and successfully detaches them from the back of his throne.

As you and the Chancellor slow to a halt at a respectable distance, you once again find yourself contemplating on what a fitting name ‘The Lord of Bones’ actually is.

“My Lord,” your escort drawls, bowing himself nearly in half in front of his master and sweeping a hand out towards you, “As per your orders, I have personally ventured to Earth and retrieved the human; Y/n.”

You’ve met the King of the dead before, but this time is different. He’s never had you here as his personal guest. And like any good guest, you feel it necessary to show your host the proper courtesy. Or in this case, the proper curtsy.

Swinging one foot back and planting it daintily behind the other, you take hold of your dress’s skirt and bend your knees, descending into a graceful dip. Then, just as evenly, you rise, inclining your head and saying with what you hope is your most fetching smile, “Your Majesty.”

Out of the corner of one eye, you notice the Chancellor’s head slowly turn to face you, his mouth agape and you don’t know whether to be offended that he didn’t think you would know basic etiquette, or pleased that you could throw him for a loop so easily.

The King, meanwhile, sits back in his throne and appraises you coolly, the only indication of surprise being in one, slightly raised brow bone.

“I see my invitation reached you then,” he says, “and, I trust, was well received?” This he addresses to the Chancellor, who draws himself up and you can see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to formulate a response that wouldn’t insult his king. After all, you had rejected the offer in the first instance.

Luckily for him, you notice the fumbling of his hands and decide to answer in his stead. “While it certainly came as a surprise, I was... humbled by His majesty's gracious offer. It's not everyday I get to attend such an occasion.”

The Chancellor will end up having to pick his jaw off the ground at the rate it keeps falling open.

“And I trust you were told why you were asked to attend?” the king drawls, stroking a long, spindly finger down his beard.

Although you have mixed feelings about being little more than a glorified accessory that the king can show off to his guests, you have enough sense not to complain. “It was mentioned....in detail,” you reply without adding anything further. Something tells you the Lord of Bones values discrepancy and the prudence of his guests.

As you suspected, the Chancellor's shoulders relax minutely and the King's dry lips quirk up into a reserved smile.

“If I didn’t know better,” he says, leaning forwards and steepling his rangy fingers together, “I’d say my Chancellor has fetched me the wrong human.”

Letting out a small bark of laughter, the undead at your side crosses his arms neatly and replies, “I thought much the same at first. But, you can rest assured, my Lord, that this is definitely the same woman.”

The fact doesn’t escape your notice that he’d said ‘woman,’ and not ‘human.’

“It would seem some time away from the Horseman has done her a world of good,” he continues with a sideways smirk. You bristle at his snide remark before recognising that he’s only trying to bait you, so, swallowing down a reply, you ignore him and instead take a step towards the Lord of Bones.

At once, a guard that had been at his side marches forwards and places himself between you and the king just before you reach the steps, his horned helmet tipping down to glare at you through a dark visor.

“Tenarus,” the old king sighs boredly and waves a hand through the air, dismissing the guard.

But, rather bravely, the undead towering over you doesn’t stand aside, instead, he calls back over his shoulder, “She has something in her hand, Sire.”

“Oh, I do actually,” you pipe up, having nearly forgotten about the wine altogether. Leaning around the guard, you hold up the bottle of wine and give it a slight, enticing shake, smiling at the king. ”It’s a gift. I brought it from home - just to say thank you for having me here.”

Curious, the Lord of Bones raises two fingers and beckons you closer. Daintily stepping around Tenarus, you start to ascend the stairs when the Chancellor suddenly blurts out, “Forgive me, my Lord, I did try to tell her that you would have no use for such a paltry little-”

“Be silent, Chancellor!” the king snaps whilst taking the proffered bottle out of your hands and raising it to his face, eyeing the label. You can’t imagine he knows the brand name. “Wine?” he asks more softly, flicking his icy gaze down to you.

“The finest I could find at short notice, given the state of Earth right now.” Suddenly, you do feel a little sheepish handing a bottle of wine to someone with no stomach. “Sorry, I couldn’t think of anything that would be more useful to you.”

Ignoring your apology, the Lord of Bones grasps the cork between his thumb and forefinger and wiggles it free. His eyes slip shut and he holds the bottle neck beneath his exposed nose bone and takes in a long, slow breath. After a moment, his eyelids crack open again, wider than before and filled with a strange softness unbefitting his hard nature. “Oh, I remember that smell,” he whispers, and his words linger in the air for a moment, his mind far away from the throne room. Then, all at once, he flicks his eyes down to you again and corks the bottle, holding it out to one side. Tenarus, who had begrudgingly returned to his post behind the throne, steps forwards and takes it from his king, handling the bottle with his too-large fingers as though it's more delicate than a flower petal.

The Lord of Bones appraises you with a newfound intrigue, his head tilted and fingers aimlessly stroking down his flimsy beard, as though you’ve suddenly become a puzzle he can’t work out at first glance. After a while though, he simply nods to you and you curtsy again, drawing back to the Chancellor's side.

“Enjoy your time here, Y/n,” the King says, “And, Chancellor?”

“My Lord?”

It could be your imagination, but for a moment, you could swear the King's tone is almost smug. “Do make sure to keep an eye on her. We wouldn't want to incur the horseman's wrath if something bad were to happen to our guest, now would we?”

You’re about to protest yourself when the Chancellor does so for you, similarly horrified at the suggestion.“But – but my King, with all due respect, I have far more important matters to attend!” he sputters.

The Lord of Bones turns a dangerous glare onto him, long, crooked fingernails scraping the arm rest of his throne. “More important than following my orders?”

Realising what he'd just implied, the Chancellor's mouth snaps shut. You can concur with him though. The very last thing you want is to be followed around by an irritable undead, especially when you plan to be catching up with old friends and, hopefully, making some new ones.

“Now, begone,” the king says with a regal sweep of his arm, “Go. Mingle, inject a little of that good, old fashioned human exuberance into the atmosphere.” Lowering his voice, he grumbles, “Goodness knows this gathering needs it...”

Sharing a look with the Chancellor that suggests neither of you are particularly thrilled about this arrangement, you nod and smile through gritted teeth. “Will do.”

“But, I-” The undead is cut off with a venomous glare from his king and he sighs, conceding, “Whatever his Majesty commands.” And with a dip of his head and a respectful bow, the undead turns around, his robes swishing gracefully out behind him as he ushers you out through the doors and onto the wooden deck beyond.

#Darksiders #Darksiders 2 #Chancellor #human/ghost #ghost?#zombie?#skeleton? what are they classed as?#ah well #draveline #Reader #jealousy #!!#the pining begins

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