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neonscandal · 2 years ago

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Victory's Shadow

⚠️ CW: Implied Canonical Minor Character Death (from season 6.. and 5, I think), Major Character Death

Pairing(s): Katsuki Bakugo & Izuku Midoriya; Minor Aizawa Shouta & Hizashi Yamada

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 2.2K

Status: Complete

Summary: Set just before graduation, Midoriya's cold feet can only be assuaged by one person.

EXCERPT

“You couldn’t tell?” Midoriya waited expectantly for Bakugo to fill the silence with something derisive but, when nothing came, he considered the question more sincerely. “I guess I’m just wondering if this is all worth it. Was this all worth it?” More silence. Heavy and uncomfortable in the depths it spanned, Midoriya shifted his weight anxiously. He’d never given his doubts a voice lest a question become an interminable scream.

A/N: I was in a silly goofy mood when I wrote this, I am sorry. Everyone is miserable.

“For today’s lesson, we’ll review for your upcoming finals.” Aizawa’s sullen drawl slowly melted into the hum of his students as a lamenting groan swept through the classroom. “Open your textbooks to page-“

Midoriya let out a labored sigh as he leaned over to grab a book from his satchel. Its weathered spine opened easily to the segment in question. His eyes hung low as he followed along haphazardly. Sun spilled in through the large windows and pulled Midoriya’s listless attention as his thoughts began to wander.

“Psst. Nerd.”

“Psst! I know you can hear me.” A second hiss penetrated his already shoddy concentration.

Midoriya closed his eyes briefly as if weighing his options. Hardly a moment passed before he resigned himself to the whims of his childhood friend. Afterall, it was so infrequent that he’d engage him first. “Yes, Kacchan?”

“Don’t you think you should be paying attention?” Bakugo’s signature half smirk seemed to wrap around every syllable of the question that hung between them.

It was enough to force a light snort through Midoriya’s nose. “Kacchan, maybe your time would be better spent paying attention, too.”

“Tch! As if. Think there’s anything left to learn that I don’t already know?”

“How could I forget?” Midoriya could feel the corners of his mouth turn upwards, wryly.

“It feels like you’re mocking me.”

“It feels like you’re intentionally distracting me.”

“’Spose you have a point.”

Midoriya didn’t have to look to know that Bakugo’s eyes were rolling into his head. One of the benefits of knowing someone all your life was the ability to match their inflection to a signature gesture without even a sidelong glance. If only this sensitivity to Bakugo’s mannerism’s had any sort of value to his studies or any other area of his life. “I’ll take ‘Kacchan’s Tic’s for $200’?” he imagined himself saying.

“Yea, whatever,” even Bakugo couldn’t hide his piqued amusement. “’Fourteen Years Together and All I Got Was This Shitty All Might T-Shirt’…”

“You loved that t-shirt, Kacchan,” Midoriya shot back indignantly.

“Yea, nerd. When you gave it to me when I was six. You’re the only fanboy who cleared puberty without growing out of any of your embarrassing hobbies….”

“Kacchan, you seem to be forgetting that you have attended every single midnight release of every All Might documentary to date.”

“Psh. Well, we see where that gets you. At least I stopped decking my whole room out in All Might gear when we got here.”

“Another eye roll complete with a gathered stretch of his hands,” Midoriya surmised. He would probably crack another smile if he didn’t feel like he had to be on the defensive. For what, he didn’t want to explore. “Kacchan, did you need something?”

A beat passed before Midoriya wondered whether Bakugo had actually heard him.

“Yea, yea. Just noticed you staring off. Wondered what you were thinking.”

More silence. Heavy and uncomfortable in the depths it spanned, Midoriya shifted his weight anxiously. He’d never given his doubts a voice lest a question become an interminable scream. Even now, the honesty of his vulnerability felt vulgar when volleyed to Bakugo who seemed to be turning his words over thoughtfully.

“Hmph.. It’s a little late to ask, don’t you think? Provisional license, almost out of UA, and all.”

“Just because we realize we’re headed in the wrong direction doesn’t mean we should keep walking, Kacchan.”

“Tch! That happened one time, ya lousy Deku!”

Midoriya managed to swallow the laugh that threatened to spill from his lips. He recalled, with warmth, a time many years ago, where he’d followed Bakugo to the ends of the earth in search of stag beetles. Well, the end of the earth according to 4-year-olds. In actuality, they’d just stumbled off the beaten path. They weren’t found for hours and, once located, bashfully realized that the point where they’d diverted from the familiar walking trail was just a few feet from where Bakugo had confidently declared he’d known the way back home.

At the time, when met with Midoriya’s tear stained face, Bakugo could never admit it. Even when they happened upon the evidence of Midoriya’s abandoned beetle trap. It was one of a handful of memories between them that they never acknowledged but both remembered, though perhaps in differing severity. It’s something they could laugh about now.

“Last hurdle before graduation and now you have cold feet. Tch, attitude like that, no way you’d be number one anyway...” Bakugo spat brusquely under his breath. His voice was gravelly but belied his earnest disappointment.

Midoriya’s eyes lowered, his eyebrows creasing thoughtfully. It took coming to UA to really appreciate that hero society was not everything he’d thought it’d be.

In his classmates, he’d seen the thin line that could separate a hero from a villain. In those he fought, he’d come to understand how a person’s twists and turns could send them down the wrong path. In Pro Heroes, he saw the shortcomings that could make them irredeemably fallible despite public approval. In his mentor, he recognized the gap between the god he’d revered and the broken man he’d absolved. In Shigaraki, perhaps his greatest lesson, he recognized his own hatred despite his persisting desire to save people. His defeat and subsequent salvation nearly cost Midoriya everything. In some ways, it still felt like it had.

The heroes won in the end, but Shigaraki still bested them in the court of public opinion by successfully upsetting the delicate paradigm he wished to destroy. His rampage, having taken many lives, pulled back the curtain on the atrocities committed by the Hero Commission and irrevocably shook the foundation of a society that put heroes on a pedestal.

Even now, Class 3A continued pressing forward into a field with no certain future. Hero work, now likened once again to vigilantism, had been put in a holding pattern while lawmakers tried to untangle the web of public outrage that was cast when the dust from the war settled. Quirk suppression laws were in talks once more and the polarizing subject of them dominated the news cycle, almost immediately replacing the faces of the fallen heroes.

But those who were there on the front lines could never forget. Those who were there would always remember. To see their fallen comrades take up less and less space in the public consciousness was just another slap in the face to their collective sacrifice. Returning to life after the war presented a surreal dissonance between the trauma suffered and the familiar humdrum of everyday life. Some adapted more quickly than others. Therapy and prostheses for that which they lost. Others simply allowed the humdrum to take up more space than the noise of their trauma. It was in the balance of this where Midoriya’s true thoughts of grief, anxiety and doubt nestled.

With graduation approaching, it became harder to ignore. Without complaint, he’d suffered the weight of the mantle he’d inherited with “One for All”. Just a child when he received it, never properly prepared for the barbed strings attached. With the state of the world, he wondered if it was something he could simply walk away from now. He swallowed the knot in his throat dryly as he contemplated his cowardice.

“Well. Guess that spares you the embarrassment of losing to me,” Bakugo snorted dismissively.

The ghost of a grin graced Midoriya’s face as he hung his head with a knowing shake. He knew this was as good a consolation as Bakugo could stomach. “Thanks, Kacchan… I’m-I’m sorry.”

“Heh!? For what, ya shit nerd?”

“For thinking of giving up on our dream.” Midoriya turned to face his childhood friend, his smile slowly making its way to his eyes as he wondered how they could have wasted so much time at odds.

Where Midoriya’s features had sharpened with age, Bakugo remained a fresh-faced boy of sixteen, pressed uniform worn irreverently. He blazed with the ethereal glow held only by those who’d imparted a piece of themselves unto the One for All quirk. This sliver, alone, survived the bloody battlefield of their first year at UA.

Pressed between the pages of Midoriya’s mind and preserved within his regret for safekeeping, lived a piece of the childhood friend who’d valiantly lent his strength to the final showdown with Shigaraki. Without a second thought, he’d sprung into action in a move that saved Midoriya’s life while costing him his own. In the moment, it devastated the hero forces before ultimately galvanizing them to bring Shigaraki down without further losses.

In a corner of his thoughts where he hoped Bakugo would never hear it, Midoriya reasoned how, considering this, this too would be a burden that he should carry. Locked in a battle of attrition, he wasn’t the irrefutable hero who could save his friend, but he could ensure that his will lived on.

Bakugo exhaled forcefully, unable to meet Midoriya’s gaze. He stared off pointedly muttering under his breath, “Yea, whatever. Do what you want…”

“Midoriya!” Aizawa snapped sharply. “Eyes up front,” he cast threateningly.

“S-Sorry, sensei…”

Bakugo snickered, having evaded reprimanding.

“It’s all your fault, Kacchan,” Midoriya murmured dejectedly, a blush blossoming across his cheeks. He chanced a glimpse at the empty worktable beside him. A covert “HE is HERE” scratched boldly into its surface.

“It happened again today,” Aizawa exhaled, tiredly rubbing at his good eye.

Yamada navigated the line of tables in the empty teachers’ lounge thoughtfully as he carefully set down a warm mug of coffee.

Aizawa accepted the mug without a word and turned to gaze at the setting sun outside. “It feels like every day we lose a little bit more of him. Like he’s withdrawing deeper and deeper into it.”

Yamada sighed softly as he studied the scarred face of a man he’d known since he’d walked these very halls as a student. “We know more’n anyone what he’s going through, Sho. Doesn’t make it any easier.”

“No. There’s someone out there with just a bit more insight.” Aizawa argued through gritted teeth, his eye trained on a desk that had been gathering dust for the last two years.

Following Shigaraki and All For One’s decisive defeat, seemingly having completed the mission of avenging his master, All Might took a permanent leave of absence from teaching. It left many lingering questions about why he chose to keep One For All a secret, how he’d passed the quirk to Midoriya rather than involve others, and how he allowed All For One to move in the shadows for so long. The conspiracies that sprung up amid his refusal to address these inquiries only added fuel to the public’s general malaise. It also left a bad taste in the mouth of all the Pro Heroes (and those in training) who’d operated under his guidance without ever truly being in the know as the curtain dropped on the final battle. With his disappearance, the burden of scrutiny fell squarely upon Midoriya to suffer the consequences of his mentor’s untenable actions. It was a yearlong onslaught of interrogation and interviews before he found some semblance of peace and privacy to grieve.

In that time, Aizawa did what he could to shoulder and protect Midoriya, but he was no Symbol of Peace. He was just a teacher who had front row seats to the carnage and mayhem wreaked upon his students. So, days like this were just a reminder of the powerlessness he’d suffered after making it his mission to never lose a fledgling hero as he’d lost his own classmate. “Some teacher,” he scoffed.

“He said once, at Central Hospital, that it was like he could feel One For All calling to him. The vestiges, I guess,” Yamada proffered pensively. For a moment, he selfishly considered his own longstanding guilt and grief. Whether he was trying to find reason in All Might’s actions or provide currency for his own redemption, he was at a loss. “Maybe he couldn’t bear to be around the kid he failed… or hear the voice of the one he lost.”

“We’re left to wonder,” Aizawa’s balled fist met the top of his desktop with a sharp thud. “And what about Midoriya, huh? He was just a kid and we failed him. We failed them both. Where’s he supposed to go from here?” his hand tangled exasperatedly in his hair as he continued to lament.

“Will he recover? Will he go ‘dark’? Sometimes loss isn’t a lesson. Sometimes it just sucks and you just grin and bear it and shoehorn whatever’s left into the life you had ‘Before’.”

Unsatisfied with the unremarkable end such drastic means had yielded, Aizawa furrowed his brow and asked the question that had plagued him since witnessing Bakugo’s ravaged body fall still on the frontline. “We won the war, Mic. But why does it feel like we’ve lost something greater?”

Yamada held a mug up to his lips gingerly, both hands snaked around the glass protectively. He allowed the warmth of his tea to find his nose and, rather than sip or answer, his eyes settled upon a desk that had been graced perennially with a vase of flowers in remembrance. “Maybe we have.”

A/N: I hope the twist wasn't too obvious but there were definitely hints. Also, also, I think the anticlimactic summation between Erasermic while surrounded by reminders of All Might, Midnight and teacher's who maybe weren't even on the front lines is just another example of how even our favorite heroes may feel guilt for their part in everything after the war. IDK if it was conveyed well but that was the intention.

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heroes-fading · 2 years ago

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tumblr did eat this but as a wise poet once said “honey i rose up from the dead i do it all the time”

so i feel like i have been slowly entertaining in the back of my head for a year or two now the idea of writing again. it started with like, writing bad poetry in journals. i’ve been consuming media, but in a lot more of a disconnected way. engagement was like, reading reddit and twitter threads for a day and putting it back down. then episode 8 happened, and i was like FUCK i’m unglued.

to put in perspective what kind of shit i was up to in high school: i wrote half a million words of like...once upon a time fanfiction. and in that i found lots of lovely connections to people but amidst a sea of other factors: being a literal teenager who still thought i could be the smartest person in the room (spoiler: never), having no real social net outside of the internet (and i will say my internet friends -- many of whom i still love and talk to today -- got me through some of the WORST times of my life), and having a very fragile ego. probably related to points a and b. everything felt like the biggest thing in the world because my world did not feel very big.

now i look back at it like...holy shit you wrote a goddamn novel. who cares if it was like, literature or not?

to be honest one of the things that got through to me was this cj the x video, especially their point which i’ll recap here:

“We are under the impression that art is something special people do, and to do it well makes you a genius, and to do it poorly is embarrassing. This sectioning off of the art world for artists from regular life and regular people is completely artificial and it is bad for the soul of your society.”

and they talk a bti about the Terrifying Ordeal of Being Known and perfectionism and just the amount of fuccccckin mental blocks we put around what’s good art and bad art and we spend so much time agonizing over what’s good and what’s cringe and you know what? embrace cringe! who cares! none of us will live forever!!! sharing art is the way we sustain ourselves in the long run.

i always have an internal voice saying something’s not good enough. i’m Always like “damn, these metrics ain’t metricing like they were earlier...” and then i’m like fuck...am i doing this for the Idea of Fandom Success or because of my fun silly lil hobby? my fun silly lil hobby? aight guess i ought to just embrace the Terrifying Ordeal of Being Known and accept that silly lil numbers ain’t what’s fufilling, it’s the practice of writing and sharing and going at the end of the day “at least one person liked this, and being known isn’t the Most Horrific Thing Ever”.

another thing i Never did when i was a teenager is tell anyone i wrote fic in real life. now my husband and friend and sister-in-law know (the latter involved either alcohol or being confined to a plane, which is a lot like alcohol) and you know how much they think i’m embarassing? they don’t. oh and actually a co-worker. they just go “lol, this is My thing” and it’s a novel they tried to write in college or fanart they post on a secret instagram or a monsters inc page they ran in high school (all real examples) because everyone has some kind of thing they care about, some artistic expression, and we’ve conditioned people to think trying is embarassing. trying is vulnerable and the point, i think! no matter how cringe!

and vulnerability is this awfully stingy thing because sometimes when you think about it for too long it’s not unlike putting your hand on a hot coal. like, fuck, laying awake at night knowing that people know You Tried and what if they still didn’t like it? humiliating. awful. please schedule me with the goddamn firing squad. you didn’t get the metrics you wanted. or worse, you did and now people don’t think you deserve it. they’re gonna find out you’re just a big fanfiction writing fraud.

but maybe that’s the point! i don’t know! vulnerability is hard and painful and growth and sincerety is almost WORSE. but there’s also something lovely and cathartic about it and at the end of the day knowing that other people feel that, too. can never get too lost in either sauces of thinking you’re the worst thing ever or the best and the only one who gets it. just gotta accept the vulnerability of it all~

i’m back in my daydreaming era, i think fic gave that back to me. i shut her off for a little while, but she’s still there! and it’s not the worst thing, having overwhelming creative ideas on the treadmill or in a hotel lobby or furiously writing in a google doc in the middle of the night even if it does feel Silly. sometimes it does make the world a little more magical, framing in a narrative.

(my therapist at some point has made comments about my narrative framing skills in the context of my life and getting out of a shitty family situation with a lot of embedded generational cyclical fun stuff to a point i have a lot of the things now i used to dream about despite it, my pathological need to write my way out also applying to my life and maybe it’s not the worst way of moving a locus of control inwards. i used to dream about feeling safe and being respected interpersonally and professionally because it’s something no woman in my family ever really got and i get that now. anyway, as i said, radical vulnerability!)

narratives are powerful and meaningful and art is too, i don’t care if it’s fanfiction at the end of the day! we’ve all felt something or gptten something or felt community and that’s meaningful enough.

this is a very long-winded and frankly chaotic way of saying sure, i’m a writer enough!

#fic talk #and talk and talk.............#i have a job i love that fufills what i want to Do and Be but also i will always love writing so much #and to get to do that in space where i get feedback and community #at the end of the day when i'm hittin #g that lil refresh button for a dopamine hit because social media has broken our brains #i do take a deep breath and be like #oh cool #i did that #and the more we police that feeling or worse misplace it the harder it gets to the Point #of just doing shit for the sake of it and having a good time!#don't get sucked into all the other shit #i think a big turning point in my life honestly #was being in the car after having the worst fucking day of my life or second worse #after a really terrible situation with my mom #and i was in a goddamn target with a radically different hair color in my hands #and after that i was like #i'm not doing this to myself!#i'm not going to doom myself!#i'm going to listen to some goddamn kelly clarkson #because of you LEGENDS ONLY #and live for myself here and build my own existence #i literally found old journal entries to myself saying something to the idea of this #and then i interned at my current job and met my husband and slept on the floor of people i still love and am friends with today #and this isn't fic but #NARRATIVE #and what i was and wasn't going to do #and i read that a year or two ago and just bawled my eyes out #because she did that :')#and that's the power of building something for yourself and owning your own lil narrative even if sometimes it's just lil fanfic

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j0kers-light · 2 years ago

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His Lighthouse: High Risk, Low Reward (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

High Risk, Low Reward

series summary:

Y/n is an aspiring writer living in Gotham City and struggling to find her next muse. Her recent novel is getting all the buzz, earning her far more attention than she signed up for. But when a chance encounter results in her nursing The Joker back to health, will she find the time to write another best seller or will her own story become front page of the Gotham Gazette?

chapter summary:

If someone told you a week ago that you would be taking a shower with Joker, would you laugh in their face or plan the day it happens? You’re back on speaking terms with Joker but anything goes with the Clown Prince of Crime. The plan is simple; predicting Joker’s next move is not.

Author’s note:

FORGIVE ME! This is the longest I’ve went without updating!! So much has happened I kid you not! Carpal tunnel, work in general, writer’s block, you name it, it happened. But enough excuses! I’m happy to drop this chapter and share the news that chapter eight is already 3K words in progress. Don’t judge me it’s how I operate. Anyhoo!! I wrote/edited half of this chapter at a wedding reception so if there’s any errors hehe. Cheers.

No beta, we die like real men. Without further ado I hope you enjoy the story!

Taglist!

@blackreaderatrisk

Last Chapter | Next Chapter

If someone told you a week ago that you would be taking a shower with Joker, for starters, you would've laughed in their face, called them crazy, and then ran for dear life.

But as you stood in the shower, soaked completely through with Joker cornering you into the wall, well, you felt like the crazy one for not believing it was possible.

"J-Joker... wait."

"Shhhh." He brushed the back of his hand down your face before cupping your neck and tipping it back.

He was breathing heavily and with the hot steam from the shower adding to the already stifling air, your breath was labored as well.

Joker's eyes roamed your face, memorizing every blemish and lingering a tad bit too long on your parted lips before settling on your e/c eyes.

Your eyes. The power they had over him was unnerving.

"Just let things happen, Y/n. You'll find life is a lot more enjoyable that way."

With every word he whispered, Joker loomed closer and closer and this time, you didn't run away.

"You sure you wanna do this, Y/n? Cuz it seems someone is a lit-tle nervous."

Joker stressed his T's again and you grumbled under your breath knowing the reason behind it. His speech pattern was designed to intimidate and stir up people's emotions and boy was it doing its job.

You were indeed nervous but he didn't have to call you out on it. It was too late to take back your original offer so you did the next best thing and denied everything.

"Me? Pfft no. I'm not nervous! Stop putting words in my mouth Joker. Now c'mon. Let's get you in the shower yeah?"

You were a stuttering mess but hopefully Joker bought your act. He didn't.

He knew firsthand how quickly your mood could change and since he was really looking forward to taking a shower, he kept his mouth shut.

Joker decided to be on his best behavior until he got what he wanted. It went against his morals but he found the strength not to tease you and shifted towards the edge of the bed, pushing up to his feet.

He hadn't been on his feet that much today. His little stretch felt good despite the multiple pops and groans his body made in protest.

Your worried glance was cute but then again– every expression you made was cute to him.

You avoided eye contact as you offered him your arms and he didn't comment on it as the two of you shuffled the few steps into your en-suite bathroom.

There was a wooden bench behind the bathtub, mostly used to hold your candles and things during a soak, that caught Joker's eye. He parted from your hold to drag it out. He then plopped down on it with a huff. Maybe laying around all day was making him feel out of shape.

Which left you standing near the doorway a little put off from being dismissed so casually. Though you didn't mind his cold shoulder.

A withdrawn Joker was godsend right now with your current jitters. You were too busy trying to mentally prepare yourself for this shower to be worried about his abrupt and closed off demeanor.

You planned on being his human crutch while he showered but knowing Joker, anything could happen. The possibility of this going south had your hands shaking like a leaf. You needed a distraction.

You stumbled over to the built-in linen closet and smiled when your second favorite set greeted you on the shelf.

You pulled out the two fluffy towels and the matching washcloth before placing them on the edge of the sink. Towels down, next to grab was aromatics.

"Alright I got you some towels but.." Joker watched you dig around further, making quite the ruckus with your nerves fueling your erratic hand coordination.

"Do you like bergamot or almond and vanilla?" You turned around holding up two minimalist bottles for him to choose from.

"Are you asking me what scent of soap I wanna use? Does it look like I care?" Joker scratched his neck and fixed you with a dull stare. He could care less.

His long eyelashes hypnotized you with each slow blink but you shook your head to focus back on the matter at hand.

"Yes. Yes I am. The right fragrance can turn a boring shower into a luxurious experience! I personally use bergamot when I'm tense but it's also good for balancing out my complexion during the summer. Vanilla on the other hand is calming and paired with almonds..."

'What have I done to deserve this form of torture?' Joker thought.

He saw inmates stabbed over common bar soap before. As long as it cleaned him up, what was the big deal on how it smelled? And how come yours was in a bottle?

"Soap is soap, just pick one." Joker groaned out loud. Why did everything have to be so difficult with you?

"But it's so much more than that!" You marched up to him and waved the two bottles in his face so he could see the label printed on the back. "Every fragrance is different and has different properties! Duh, any soap can clean, but I want this shower to be perfect for you after going so long without one! You'll thank me once you get in there."

He took a glance at his choices before grabbing your wrist to tug you close, thus earning a high pitched yelp from you in the process.

"How about this, Y/n." Joker licked his lips pretending to think. "Why don't I use your soap?"

You jerked back in shock. It was an odd suggestion but you didn't see any harm in indulging him. Just where did he get the idea from? "You.. you want to use mine? Why?"

Joker shrugged, "I already know what it smells like. It saves me time trying to guess whatever the hel–"

You narrowed your eyes at Joker for almost swearing and he rolled his eyes, quickly remembering your house rules.

He took a deep breath before replying. "I almost forgot! No potty mouths in front of the innocent whittle bunny. What's worse? Your prudish rules or picking out which fanc-y soap you want me to use?"

"Ha. Ha. You really do live up to your name huh?" You mocked.

Joker wisely chose to ignore your jab.

"You always smell good so I know your soap will be 'perfect' and allow for whatever.. uh experience.. you keep babbling about to happen. There. I picked out a soap. Can we move on now?"

Joker turned his head and you swore the strip of skin between his face paint and the collar of his shirt turned red. Was he blushing? He did admit you smelled good, but it was a rather tame compliment.

What made him so flustered then?

"Y-Yeah sure. I guess you can use mine. I'll just go grab it out of my shower. I'll be right back." Your eyes lingered on Joker before you walked out the bathroom and ventured down the hall into your room.

He was acting odd but what could you do about it? Joker was rather unpredictable.

One minute he was compliant to your wishes, the next threatening you with common household objects. You knew no matter how long Joker stayed hidden in your apartment, he wouldn't change.

The door to your bedroom remained closed but with a gentle twist of the doorknob it opened. You didn't spare a glance at your room but made a beeline for the other bathroom in the apartment— separate from the rest.

Of course your main bathroom in the hall was grand but it was paltry compared to the one attached to your master bedroom. Per norm it was off limits and undoubtedly yours.

Following the theme in your bedroom, the walls were dark and the celestial décor continued on.

The ceiling here was also painted with the moon and stars with spotlights installed as the only source of light. The walls were darker than black holes with a faint shimmer of opal. As a whole, the room wasn't gothic in appearance.

Other elements a few shades lighter created contrast and kept the space balanced.

A slab of poured concrete sat atop a massive cabinet of natural cedar wood supplying you with ample amounts of storage space. The dual sinks were carved into the counter like an infinity pool, giving off a futuristic look and saving counter space.

The faucets however were replaced with a statue of a deity allowing the water to pour out from her outstretched hands into the respective sink dents.

A floor to ceiling mirror took up the wall behind the sink, letting the window to its immediate left flood the bathroom with moonlight and subsequently the luminescent view of the Fashion district at night.

The penthouse was high enough for the average peeping Tom to not be an issue but as a precaution, there was an archway that separated the sink area from the shower and toilet area as well as frosted glass in place.

The archway was painted with the phases of the moon that led to the focal point of the bathroom. A sunken bathtub.

You fought with the landlord when you submitted your remodeling blueprints to him.

After you waved a wad of cash in his face and signed a non-negotiable lease for the next ten years, your contractor dug a literal hole in your bathroom right into the maintenance floor below yours to build the tub.

Since it was all custom, the depth exceeded the average twenty inches and once again the standard faucet was replaced with another statue, this one similar to the one on the sink but bigger.

This deity had water spewing out from her mouth with two chibi sprites flanking her, holding pots decorated with Greek mythology motifs that also filled the tub from the sides. At full power, the statues could fill the basin in roughly twenty minutes.

But you walked straight past all the grandeur over a cedar wood plank to your waterfall shower just two steps above the sunken tub.

There was a plethora of shower gels present, each with different scents and in different textures, stashed inside a built- in alcove, but you honed on your favorite, separate from the rest.

You snagged the bottle before darting over to your bathroom cabinet and grabbing a spare loofah for Joker. Ironically it was green. Go figure.

You wasted too much time here and doubled back to the main bathroom where Joker was in the same place you left him, although he now looked rather impatient.

"And where did you disappear to, hmm?" He eyed the new bottle in your hand with intrigue. Unlike the others, it was half empty showing it was used regularly.

"Sorry. I had to grab a few more things." You waved the loofah before setting it down.

"Okay so I got the towels, shower gel, plus a loofah. That's everything needed for a shower. Are you ready?"

"For the third time, yesss, Y/n I am ready. I should be asking you that question." Joker rolled his eyes at your methods of stalling.

If you didn't want to help him it was okay. He wasn't forcing you. You were the one putting yourself into an awkward situation here. Although a part of him wanted you to join him.

You were down to your last excuse. "Hey.. aren't you going to wash your face?" You gestured to your own while leaning on the console sink.

Joker huffed, as if his answer was obvious. "Uh no. NoT in front of you."

Oh. Oh. You weren't exactly on good terms with him so that made sense.

You forgot he was a wanted criminal with an unknown past. Plus you were an inconvenience to Joker at the end of the day. Who were you to see him so exposed?

"Righttt. What I meant to say was– do you usually take off your makeup? I mean, it's looking a little worse for wear. No offense!" You quickly added.

So you finally noticed. Good, you weren't an airhead after all.

"It's still concealing my identity Y/n. But to answer your question, yes. I usually reapply by now. This is the longest I went without fixing it." He made a face and smacked his lips a few times.

Day-old lipstick must taste horrible. How did he bear it? There was a stretch of silence inside the bathroom while you let that thought sink in.

You could only imagine what his pores looked like after years of neglect. You really wanted to see what was underneath the paint.

To see his skin, despite the scars in its natural beauty. Common sense told you Joker would never let that happen... but it didn't hurt to dream. Thank goodness you planned ahead.

You shifted on your feet drawing Joker's attention back to you.

"If you want, you can use some of my makeup to reapply. I know you're not comfortable going around bare faced. Even if it's just you and I inside the apartment, you have a right to feel comfortable, so I stopped by the makeup store on Monday and bought some for you to freshen up with."

That was very considerate of you. Joker didn't know how to process your act of kindness. You went out of your way to help him again and he still didn't have an answer as to why.

If you were smart, you should've exposed his identity and got that information over to the authorities, even better to Batman. That would've been the main objective if he were in your shoes.

Not like he'd risk compromising his identity around you, but you did have many opportunities to out him.

And you chose to protect his privacy. Hiding him here and jeopardizing your freedom if someone found out. You were harboring a fugitive, all with a smile on your face.

Nothing you did made any sense to him.

"Uh thanks?" Joker blinked.

You excused yourself and returned with a cosmetic store bag filled with foundation, powders, etc.

You didn't know what all Joker needed and you got quite a few suspicious glares when you raided the beauty store. You bought all of their pale whites and full coverage products and paid in cash to destroy a digital trail.

If it was closer to Halloween average costume makeup would have sufficed but you made due with the daily makeup products a few online beauty gurus recommended for fairer skinned beauties.

"I hope this helps." You carried the brand name bag over to Joker.

He peered into the bag expecting the worst. Imagine his surprise when he spotted the exact lipstick shade he normally used inside. How did you know?

Joker tried not to look too pleased and gave you a faint nod but it was enough for you. He didn't throw the bag at you so apparently you did well!

"Alright! No more dicking around. It's shower time!"

You crossed the room and opened the glass enclosure that was your shower and tampered with the controls to power it.

Keeping in mind this shower was to help flush out his wound and clean off all the dirt and grime from his body, you set the temperature between hot and molten lava. You didn't want to burn him and get yelled at, but you still wanted to fight off any lingering bacteria. If he couldn't handle a little hot water then he was a pussy.

Once the water was to your liking, you lifted your baggy sweatshirt up and off, revealing the thin tank top and lounge shorts you wore underneath to Joker's gaze.

He was expecting a swimsuit but this was so much better. He couldn't wait to see it wet. He coughed discreetly into his fist and looked away.

This was it then. You were seriously going to join him in the shower.

He thought you'd flake last minute but as you dug out a silk bonnet from your pocket, something else you snagged from your private bathroom and secured it over your hair, Joker understood there was no turning back.

But was he ready? After seeing you strip down he lost all of his initial confidence. Joker was forced out of his inner thoughts by you approaching him with your hands on your hips.

"Well?" You waved towards the shower. "I'm not gonna ask you again."

Even your nervous grin was cute. This was gonna be hard– amongst other things..

"Sure. Let's get naked." Joker exhaled with a grin of his own.

He couldn't pass up an opportunity to tease you. It was just too easy. You sighed and urged him towards the shower with a few gentle nudges. He made it to the door and felt the accumulated steam seeping out to greet him.

"Okay! I'm turning around so you can undress but let me know when you're done so I can keep your balance in the shower. Can't have my patient slipping and falling on my watch am I right?"

Joker was already removing his shirt before you finished your first sentence. You only had seconds to turn before receiving an eyeful.

Look away Y/n, LOOK AWAY!

His zipper echoed sharply in the bathroom sounding way too provocative given the situation. Your mind was racing as blood rushed in your ears. Suddenly the picture frames on the wall were very interesting.....

"Done." Joker mumbled and took the liberty of stepping into the spacious shower only to hiss and spew a string of curses from the scalding temperature.

"I told you the water would irritate your open wound! Give it a minute and you'll adapt." You scampered in behind him, chuckling lightly to quell your nerves.

You stepped over the small pile of clothes he left outside the shower. Just looking at them made you red in the face.

You cut holes in his pants to access his wounds but now that they were completely off his person, oh boy. You weren't prepared for this at all.

Pull yourself together Y/n! You are [insert age] years old, not some horny teenager facing her crush for the first time!

So what if Joker was butt naked in your shower and letting out some very suggestive groans as the hot water worked its magic on his weary muscles.

This was by far the worst idea you ever had.

The steam quickly fogged up the glass and thankfully covered Joker's body from the hips down but from what you could still see... the man was all types of fine.

Joker's signature three piece suit concealed his frame and any media coverage failed narrow down exactly what lie underneath his clothes. For years he had been a mystery. Now you got to see the truth.

Various police reports described him as tall and lanky. Well that was a lie.

Joker was tall.. and surprisingly muscular with gorgeous tan skin, riddled with old scars and dusted with faint freckles, just begging to be touched. And how could you forget to mention? He was drop dead gorgeous.

He wasn't ripped like a bodybuilder but in no way lanky as everyone originally assumed. He had the right amount of muscle that any male model would die for while maintaining his ominous appearance.

Water dripped down Joker's back in sinful patterns and you followed a bead down his spine until it disappeared past the danger zone. It had to be illegal to be this hot.

Each flex of his arms was like a moving piece of art for your eyes only. You were beyond speechless.

If his back was this stunning could you handle seeing the front? You were fighting the urge to turn him around yourself. Unfortunately your body was frozen in awe.

Joker craned his head back and found you motionless by the shower entrance. His green eyes somehow glowed and easily cut through the steam.

He knew that look from anywhere.

"See somethin' ya like, Y/n?" That smirk of his was pure sin. You nodded mutely and instantly regretted it.

"Oh you do? Didn't take ya for a perv Y/n, but never judge an author by their uh.. covers." Joker chuckled to himself and returned back to his shower.

You on the other hand wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. You?! A pervert? Your current thoughts were befitting the name but he didn't have to know that!

"I am not a pervert! And I won't let your jokes get to me! I think you're wet enough-"

"You think I'm wet enough, Y/n?" Joker shot over his shoulder, smirking.

"YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT!" You whined in your hands. "As I was saying... you're wet enough to start lathering up. Here." You handed him the bottle of soap and his sage green loofah.

At this, Joker turned and faced you. "'How do I.."

Oh my God.

Did he not know how to use shower gel?

Maybe that's why he was so agitated by selecting one earlier. He was used to generic bar soap from prison. That made your face turn sour.

You shook your head forgetting for just a moment that Joker was naked and boldly retrieved the loofah from him to demonstrate. "This is liquid soap. You drizzle it onto this exfoliating puff and then.."

You let your actions do the talking.

Joker watched as your hand came up to rub soothing circles on his chest with the loofah. Immediately he saw a lather form followed by an explosion of scent that filled his nostrils.

The hot water amplified the exotic fragrance and the shower enclosure was quickly flooded with the smell of you.

This is what he wanted; to be wrapped up in your alluring scent with nothing standing in the way.

There were no words to describe this feeling so he simply let it take hold. His mind didn't register that you were literally bathing him and you were so out of it, it didn't click in your mind either.

Using the loofah, you worked the soap into his skin while your left hand roamed wistfully across his body, working like a phantom puff. You coated his chest and arms with suds and were working on scrubbing his sternum when he hummed and dropped his forehead on the crown of your head.

And then the moment was shattered.

Your eyes blinked a mile a minute and both of your hands froze mid scrub.

What. Were. You. Doing?

Your brain caught up to your actions and you and Joker locked eyes at the same time.

"Andthatshowyouuseshowergel!" You spun around and wished for a swift death.

Maybe he would be generous and snap your neck quickly. No fuss no muss or perhaps since you two were still in the shower he could find something to slit your throat with. That way he could clean himself and the crime scene like a two for one deal.

Writing a hit thriller series educated your mind on the many ways to kill a person.

It was all bad for your health. You could add this to the list of things to discuss with your therapist if you ever made it out of this shower alive. You were about to bang your head against the subway tiles when you heard Joker speak up behind you.

"Mmm, thanks for the demonstration Y/n, but can you uh.. get my back while you're at it?"

You must've shook your head because Joker bent down and rested his chin in the crook of your neck, humming again. Just what on Earth was he doing?!

"Pretty please? You did such a good job already.."

He didn't mean to tease you this time, he was just stating the obvious but your praise kink took his words and created a new narrative with them.

You were doing your best impression of a tomato despite your dark complexion. You didn't know you could visibly blush until you met Joker!

Your cheeks were constantly on fire whenever you were around him and your levels of embarrassment were constantly through the roof. You thought over every possible scenario of showering with Joker but not whatever this was! How could you not plan for this to happen??

It was even worse when you felt Joker lean more of his weight on you. You forgot he was supposed to be keeping weight off his leg.

Was he getting tired already? Or was he just messing with you? So far he kept his hands to himself so maybe it was the former?

You turned your head a bit to see Joker's head of seaweed waterlogged and dripping with water. You didn't grab any shampoo. Yeah. You really didn't think any of this through.

Maybe your mind was too preoccupied with the physical action of showering with Joker that it didn't plan out what all was required to complete said task. This was a huge failure and you had no other choice but to commit to it.

Joker was far too quiet for your liking. "Hey Joker, you okay?" All you received was a content little hum. It was raw and soft on the ears. Comforting.

It spelled trouble for your heart.

"Okay... then can you get off my shoulder?"

"Why?" He cooed.

"Be-because I can't wash your back if you're leaning on me, that's why! Geez you're acting like a big baby." You heard, more like, felt him sigh before he stepped back and turned around.

He balanced his weight on the tiles in front of him giving you the full expanse of his back to admire and wash.

The steam still curled around his frame so you decided to use that as the stopping point. You refused to go past his hips. For both his sanity and yours.

You took a deep breath and started scrubbing lazy circles into his shoulders blades, working down.

Your water bill this month would be insane but you didn't have to worry about the actual hot water running out. With the amount of money you paid for rent, the (expensive) penthouse water heater had an unlimited reservoir for your floor.

Now that you were aware of your actions, scrubbing Joker's back was rather awkward.

This whole situation of harboring him inside your apartment was awkward yet you suffered through it. You couldn't escape this far in the game.

Some time passed and Joker's back was completely clean. You nodded at your work and tapped his shoulder twice. "I'm done, you can turn around now."

You were wringing out the loofah, lost in your own world and didn't see the looming shadow coming closer.

By the time you caught onto his schemes it was too late.

Joker wasn't kidding when he said a group of people could be comfortable in here with no issues but the fact that he managed to walk up on you without you noticing him was concerning. You were standing near the opposite end of the shower, quite a distance away from him.

You were convinced that Joker wasn't as injured as you originally thought. He sure wasn't acting like someone with a gunshot wound.

You dropped the shower puff the second Joker began invading your personal space.

His height, the heat from the shower, his imposing aura, it all got to your head. You were backpedaling until your back hit the wall with nowhere else to go. The predator had finally stalked its prey.

Joker didn't speak, he just gazed into your eyes with that unreadable stare you couldn't put into words. Just what was he thinking? Nothing gave him away.

He didn't blink, you didn't move, and tiny beads of black from his eyeshadow dripped down his face like tears that didn't help ease the tense situation you found yourself in.

So many nefarious thoughts could be forming inside his brain. Your cause of death, a not-so funny joke, for all you knew he could pass out from the heat— so you waited for his next move with bated breath.

It came in the form of his arms caging your body further into the lukewarm subway tiles. His palms came to a rest beside your head and just like that; you were at his mercy.

Since he was so close you could smell your shower gel and it smelled heavenly on him. Letting him use it was a great idea. It coaxed you into a druglike state, making your head empty and your worries obsolete.

Joker let his eyes roam freely over your body since he could see better in the steam than you.

Your clothes clung to you like a second skin and he was very thankful you opted out on wearing a bra.

Were you trying to seduce him here? The way you opened your eyes and sent him an alluring glance, he had no doubt that you were. You really were a naïve little minx.

There was no need for underhanded tactics when you were a sight for sore eyes. A droplet of water was caught on your lower lip and it became a beacon to his gaze.

Perhaps he could find out what your lips tasted like..

You saw his intentions, it was clear as day on his face. You wanted to avoid this ever since you met Joker but apparently it was inevitable. In the short time you've known him, common sense was forgotten and you gave up your attempts to stay away from Joker.

In some demented way, you craved Joker's attention and his touch. The thought of 'what would kissing him feel like?' flashed across your mind.

'I want to know.' The confession echoed loudly inside your head. It both empowered and terrified you. It was time to stop denying it. You were screwed, but you needed to know.

However, the situation you found yourself in was still scary.

"J-Joker. Wait." You couldn't remember the last time you let a man this close both physically and emotionally. You needed a moment.

He didn't like you being bashful around him. Your eyes dropped low and you turned away from him. It hit a nerve and he just couldn't have that. He needed your attention on him, always.

Joker said your name softly and it echoed over the running water to your ears. It was too gentle, bordering on being manipulative, and you shied away from him even more.

Why did you suddenly fear him? You hadn't before despite all the threats and hurtful comments he threw at you.

He never met a person that didn't fear him. A person who actually enjoyed his presence. He came too far to lose this feeling. There was something about you that he needed to understand and your sudden fear of him was something he couldn't handle.

Your closed off demeanor wasn't an issue but he didn't want to scare you off. For some odd reason he cared about your feelings. He... never cared about another person before.

Joker thought about what a normal person would do in this situation and in a blink of an eye, he acted.

You were startled by the sudden contact.

"Shhhh." Joker cooed and brushed the back of his hand from your temple down your cheek.

He then seized the back of your neck. You winced at his grip; he paid it no mind.

There. Those big, expressive e/c eyes of yours were back on him. As they should be.

He was breathing heavily and with the hot steam from the shower adding to the already stifling air in the room, your breath was labored as well. You'd be lying if you said this version of Joker scared you. You blamed this unhealthy attraction to him on the dark fanfics you read in your downtime.

Joker's eyes roamed the entirety of your face, memorizing every blemish, the faint flush across the bridge of your nose, down to the swirling colors within your eyes he was beginning to love..

But the most important feature of yours captured his eye the longest. Your parted lips were still moist from the shower's humidity and the (sinful) action of you licking them with your tongue, drew him insane.

It was a toss up. Your eyes did something to him but so did your lips. He should be stronger than this. Having a soft spot for a woman was a huge no no in his profession.

How did you have this much power over him in such a short amount of time? It was embarrassing yet he chose to accept it. You were a temptation that he would gladly allow to ruin him from the inside out.

"Just let things happen, Y/n."

Let me do this, was what he truly wanted to say. "You'll find life is a lot more enjoyable that way."

Please don't run away.

The last wall of your subconscious fell in order to let Joker in. With every word he whispered, with each gentle caress on your skin, Joker sweet talked his way in and won you over. And this time, you didn't run away from him.

You simply let things happen.

You closed your eyes, missing his smug grin, and let him take the lead. He pulled you in closer and you could feel the heat of his breath brush against your lower lip, your own slightly parting open, preparing for what was to come.

However a ringtone rang out inside the bathroom like a sitcom record scratch. Your eyes flew open and began locating your phone inside the bathroom.

Without glancing back at a fuming Joker, you darted out of the shower to go answer it.

This had to be some kind of joke. Maybe you were a tease after all. Joker stood in the shower trying to collect his thoughts because there was no way you left him hanging right as he was about to kiss you.

He pulled some cruel jokes in his career but this topped the cake. No matter how many times he blinked, you weren't there in his arms and this was seriously happening.

He punched the wall, cracking a few tiles here and there, but his anger remained. He was so close! It seemed like every chance he got to try and kiss you, fate had to intervene.

Sharp green eyes cut over to your figure standing by the sink, completely unaware of the ticking time bomb you left behind. What phone call was so important that you had to dash out of the shower to answer it?

Was it him? Joker saw red at the mere thought of Gotham's playboy calling you at a time like this.

If it ended up being Wayne on the line, Joker had far too many ways to end the millionaire's life. Joker was breathing like a bull ready to charge when he happened to hear your voice float across the room.

You knew that ringtone by heart. No matter the time or however busy you were, come hell or high water, you always answered the phone for your manager. Period.

You ignored how your clothes dripped on the floor as you stepped out of the shower.

The tank top clung to you like a second skin and once out the spray of water it felt uncomfortable, but your focus was on your phone resting on the edge of the sink. How it kept its balance was beyond you with the constant vibrations sounding off from the device.

A candid selfie of Cindy was on the screen until you accepted the call with an airy hello.

"Woah, you sound out of breath. Did I catch you at a bad time?" She asked.

Of course she would notice. The woman was very perceptive, both on the job and as a friend. "No no.. it's fine. I was in the middle of something. It's alright, I know you're a busy woman."

It was silent on her end so you carried on, "Soooo.. what's up? I get the feeling this isn't a friendly check in." You panted.

"Ding ding ding! You know me so well. I'm afraid this is a business call. It shouldn't take long, I only have two things I need to address. Number one: this Friday night. I already scheduled you to attend a gala at The Prosperity for another networking opportunity."

She was halfway into another sentence when your brain reacted to her first announcement.

"What!? What do you mean this Friday? Cindy.. that's in less than two days! Can you give a girl a little more breathing room to charge her social bar before you make plans that huge?!"

You were already freaking out, pacing the length of the bathroom.

"Oh calm down, Y/n. You're a natural at communicating with others." She paused for a second to snort. "I can see your unamused face through the phone. Two days is plenty of time to 'charge your introverted social battery'. Geez, I didn't have to remind you at all, you know. Remember what happened last time?"

How could you forget? You rolled your eyes at the memory. "I won't raincheck last minute. I promise. I'll go."

"You better! I already took the liberty of ordering a dress to your place so no excuses about you not having anything to wear. I also have transportation planned so don't even think about it. I'm covering my bases this time."

Cindy really wasn't playing around this time. Maybe you should stop being such a difficult client and work with her. After all, she was doing this to help you and your career.

"Figures you would." You heard her hum of agreement followed by a flurry of keyboard clicks in the background.

"With you involved, I have to. The package should arrive by," a series of clicks rang out. She must've gotten a longer set of acrylics than normal.

"...tomorrow morning if it moves out of the New Jersey terminal overnight."

"To confirm. You can track a delivery in real time but you can't remind me of a party a week in advance? And I thought we were friends, Cindy." You looked at your reflection in the mirror and snuck a peek at the figure bent over in the shower.

Was he pissed that you took this phone call? You weren't ready to face him afterwards to find out. You hoped Joker understood it was important.

"I'm doing this because we are friends. The official invitations were sent out three months in advance. I knew you would've flaked if you knew that far ahead. This gala is really important Y/n! I ordered the best dress for you to schmooze and minge in so work those assets of yours! I got high people in high places attending. Try to make a deal or even better, start a fling with a screenwriter. At this point, trashy press is still press and you need all the attention you can get."

You held back your laughter. Assets? Trashy press? Was she serious?

"You're getting desperate now Cindy."

"No, you are getting desperate, Y/n. Which reminds me. The second reason why I called you. Y/n.. your deadline is fast approaching. Four weeks to be exact. I don't want to lose you.. but—"

Great. Now you had her worrying. You knew your contract was expiring soon.

The calendar on your phone reminded you each passing week. Your fingers itched to get new material out to the public but these things required patience. You couldn't rush perfection but you knew she had a job to do.

"I'm working on something." You mumbled over the phone.

From the awkward silence stretching afterwards, Cindy wasn't buying it.

She drummed her nails on her desk. "Are you writing something down in your notepad or are you actually typing something out working working? I need clarification here."

"I-I have over five thousand words typed out. In our normal place."

"What? Why haven't you shared the document with me?! Do you like stressing me out, Y/n?" She did sound stressed, but that could just be Cindy's normal voice.

Either way, you felt guilty even though it wasn't entirely your fault you forgot to share the document. Joker just had a way of distracting you. Not like she would believe that excuse. He was a secret after all.

Speaking of secrets, you jumped at the sound of the shower turning off. Joker must have realized you weren't returning and decided to get out.

"Well.. um. You see uh.. I've been.." You looked behind you as Joker was wrapping a towel around his waist.

Your brain shut down right then and there. The view from the front was definitely better than the back.

"Y/n? Y/n! I know you hear me! I can hear your creepy fangirl breathing!" Cindy screamed over the phone.

You couldn't tear your eyes from Joker but it was common courtesy to respond. Your eyes didn't waver from him as you answered.

"I've been busy." You didn't lie.

"Y/n, you can't fool me, I heard your shower turn off. Got some company over huh? OHHHH! That's why you answered the phone out of breath! Well well well! Someone doesn't need trashy press like I thought! Unfortunately if he isn't a movie producer you're gonna have to be a slut for the weekend and fool around. Hopefully your guy will understand."

Cindy spoke to someone else, most likely her assistant, and sighed before returning to your phone conversation.

"Something's come up. Just look nice on Friday okay? I won't be attending but I'll have eyes at the event to keep tabs on you so no rain checks! Socialize, make connections, possibly with someone we can work with. Oh and Y/n? I really don't want your deadline to sneak up on you. Please email me an invite to the word document so it can count as submitted work."

"It won't Cindy, I promise." She really knew how to pull the strict editor role on you.

"...before your deadline Y/n. We both know you get distracted easily. I gotta go."

Cindy ended the call before you could say a proper goodbye. You were left dripping wet and fully clothed in your bathroom, wondering how your life could get any more stressful.

"Hmm, sounds like someone's weekend is already planned ouT for them."

You screamed as Joker's fingers danced across your exposed shoulders. For a second you forgot he was in the room. Your heart was beating fast but you turned around to face the music.

To your shock he wasn't angry or at least he didn't look like it.

He looked calm as he used another towel to soak up the water from his hair. You noticed during your phone call he found some kind of shampoo to wash it with for it looked healthier and less like oily seaweed and more like something you wanted to rake your hands through.

Where did that thought come from? You didn't lie, but the thought worried you a bit.

'A few minutes ago you were about to kiss him in the shower Y/n. Did you think playing with his hair is somehow worse?'

It was official, your own mind was against you. You cleared your throat getting Joker's attention. He was still standing in front of you in just a towel creating a puddle of water on the floor.

You raised an eyebrow, "Did you not towel dry yourself?"

"I barely turned off the shower correctly. Your floors can stand a lit-tle water, Y/n." Joker scoffed and ruffled his head with the towel.

The end result gave his hair a fluffy, wild mop of curls. You were a little jealous.

There was too much of him to focus on at once, although you pointedly avoided looking at his exposed chest and below.

"Yeah sure. Did you finish washing up? I mean, I got your front and back but I didn't.." You trailed off, scratching your neck and looking away.

He really hated when you did that. "Hmm, I had no choice since you left to take a phone call."

So he was angry. He just didn't show it. You sighed and gave Joker your best apologetic smile.

You walked over and gestured for him to bend down to your height. "Sorry about that. That was my manager and we kinda have an agreement. I always answer the phone when she calls. No exceptions."

You took over drying him off. It was definitely not an excuse to touch him but you knew that was a lie.

You were working on his arms and shoulders. "I forgot to share my current WIP with her and now she's upset with me even though I–"

Joker cut you off, "I'm well aware, Y/n. I heard every word." You looked up into his green eyes, shocked.

There was nothing there to help decipher his actual mood.

His clown makeup had all but melted in the shower with only the remainder left surrounding his eyelids and mouth. The rest was wisps of white and red, smudged and faint.

You didn't think before you reached up and used your thumb to wipe a trace of red from the corner of his mouth. The area there was raised and bumpy from his scars but surprisingly smooth to the touch.

Joker parted his mouth and the motion moved your finger onto his lip. You lurched back like you touched burning coals. "I'm sorry!"

He smacked his lips while rolling his eyes. You acted more like a mouse than a bunny, jumping at every ounce of contact. Were you always this guarded or was it only around him? Joker could tell there was a wall between you and him but for a brief moment, it was down.

How long would it take to earn your trust again and knock it back down? He only had another week left. Could he manage such a feat?

One glance at your timid hands patting his right arm immediately told him no, but Joker was a man of challenges.

If it was deemed impossible he would still try it. He needed to understand why you were so brave yet stupid, smart yet ditzy; Beautiful and untouchable.

He shouldn't be this attracted to you. He had plans to execute, a city to burn.

There was no time to play house with a weak civilian, yet here he was doing just that. Staying at your place, eating your meals and enjoying your company– as brief as it was these past few days.

Today was different. You came to him and initiated conversation.

You offered to help him shower and graced him with a smile. Was this a nudge in the right direction with you?

Excluding the phone call that ruined his advances, Joker had you right where he wanted you; cornered and at his mercy.

The scene couldn't be more perfect and Joker knew there wouldn't be another chance (at least for a while) to get what he wanted. Maybe he would have to use force.

Unfortunately he knew that would only push you away and possibly get him kicked out of your apartment. No, he would have to play this like a game of chess, slowly and with a level head in order to win.

He had all the time in the world to corner you again. He just couldn't screw up again.

"Joker?" He heard your voice call out to him. How long was he stuck in his head?

"Hey, where did your mind go?" You blessed him with a laugh and stepped into his line of sight.

"Well.. wherever you went.. I dried you off the best I could. I'll leave you to redo your makeup while I go fetch you some clean clothes to wear. I think leaving your wound open to breathe is also a good idea. Everything else is on the table by the window but if you need me or something else, just shout. I'll be in the next room changing the bed."

Joker nodded mutely and limped over to the table you mentioned.

It was more like a mini vanity with various makeup products and brushes already in neat cupholders and bins. He never saw you wear makeup around the apartment and he decided to ask you about it later.

You smiled as he sat down on the bench and closed the door, leaving Joker alone to his thoughts.

Ever since he met you a week ago the main focus of said thoughts were always you. What he wouldn't do to get you out of his head. Dealing with you physically was more than enough.

He spent too much time dwelling on you today. Joker searched for a makeup cleanser and stumbled upon your phone still on the sink, unlocked for the time being.

Fate was tempting him this day.

He could snoop around your phone, check your web history for blackmail, ruin your chances with Wayne with a single text, the possibilities were endless!

The screen began to dim preparing to lock and he only had a few precious seconds before his window of opportunity closed. The chaos he could invoke with your phone was too much for him to pass up.

Then he thought about your phone call with your manager. She made plans for you this Friday at The Prosperity.

It was a ritzy hall where even richer members of Gotham gathered to talk about nothing and flaunt their money and prestige to each other. But the event itself sparked a memory in his mind. This Friday. What was so special about this particular Friday?

Then it hit him.

Before your phone could lock, Joker picked it up and dialed a number.

After you closed the bathroom door, you sighed loudly. You almost kissed Joker. Again. This was the second time, third strike, and you were out.

You slapped your cheeks groaning to yourself, 'No there won't be a third time!'

Right now you couldn't afford to think about that. Your focus was set on preparing Joker's bed and getting started on tonight's dinner. One task at a time was your game plan. Processing what happened in the shower could wait until bedtime. Or never.

You walked over to the bed and peeled the top cover back to inspect the sheets underneath. You found they were still fresh enough for Joker to use. The pillowcases however had to go.

With a task at hand, the time ticked by without your knowledge. It didn't dawn on you to check on Joker in the bathroom.

You knew it would take some time to apply his makeup but you were so focused on changing his bed and laying out an outfit for him you didn't realize that you drifted into the laundry room to wash the bedding and somehow ended up in the kitchen all in the span of an hour.

You were chopping up ingredients for Pad Thai when you had the idea to play some music.

"[insert phone carrier AI], shuffle my music please."

Nothing happened.

You stopped julienning a carrot and looked around the room for your phone.

You changed out of your wet clothes and it wasn't in the pockets, leaving your phone in no other place but where you left an hour prior. Still in the bathroom with Joker.

One exhale later, you left your meal prep in the kitchen to go retrieve your phone. If you were cooking you would do so with music blasting.

You opted out of wearing socks and your favorite color nail polish adorned your toes as you made your way back to the guest bedroom. The spare bedding you chose still matched the décor and you noticed the clothes you laid out on the foot of the bed were gone.

It was an indicator that Joker had left the bathroom in the past hour.

You knocked on the door, calling out for him. At first you didn't hear anything until you pressed your ear to the wood and picked up on a one way conversation. Was he talking to himself? At this point that wasn't concerning, Joker was indeed touched in the head.

"I don't care what you have to do. Don't blow your cover.. duh.. but keep an eye on the... Yes. I told you this'll be easyyy. The target."

You located your phone but why was Joker using it? You wouldn't dare ask how he got past your passcode.

Apparently the person on the other end had a lot to say since it was quiet for a few minutes until Joker responded.

He made that nondescript hum of his– the one that wasn't a sigh nor a grunt, just a noise that only he made, though this one sounded frustrated.

"I haven't decided yet. You'll know more once you geT there." There was a loud thud through the door that made you jump.

"Do your job.. but have fun doing it, mmkay? Track and then destroy. You know what to do from here."

Track and destroy? Have fun? Targets? You knew Joker was a man of pure evil but his calm demeanor about it sent a chill down your spine. Who did he just put a hit on? What was going on? This was beyond what you agreed upon.

You backed away from the door in fear. Until now, you only saw a domestic side of Joker.

Sure he threatened you a few times, but he didn't display any of his more violent tendencies during his stay with you. He was nothing but mannerable despite being a madman.

How could you forget that crucial detail? He wasn't a normal houseguest. Joker was a murderer– the most dangerous one in all of Gotham and actively wanted by the GCPD for escaping and killing nineteen people.

Just because you served him daily meals in bed and asked him if he liked ginseng tea or Earl Grey, didn't mean you were safe around him. You couldn't trust the devil personified and you definitely shouldn't make friends with him either.

His secret phone call was your wake up call. You had to remember to send Cindy a bouquet of flowers for calling you when she did. If Joker had kissed you in the shower, where would you be right now?

You didn't need that toxic thinking in your life. You needed to protect yourself and put up a permanent wall between you and Joker. There couldn't be any more room for errors. Whatever chemistry that was brewing between you and the jokester had to stop now.

With your mind made up, you waited a few more minutes before knocking on the door again.

Another vague hum from Joker granted you entry.

Of course you didn't know what to expect when you walked in but seeing Joker seated at the vanity with a fresh coat of clown makeup on while wearing a light grey shirt with black sweatpants (thankfully you had sense to not buy grey) was not at the top of your list.

After that phone call you didn't know anything about him anymore. Like you knew anything to begin with..

He turned to face you with a pensive glare. Did he suspect you overheard his conversation? You waited long enough not to be suspicious– your book research taught you about that reoccurring troupe in various media.

Apparently he did. "How much did ya hear?"

If you remembered correctly, experts said to deflect the accusation. You blurted out of the first thing that came to mind.

"I see the clothes fit, that's good." You pointed at his clothes making him look down.

He looked good in casual attire although you wouldn't admit that aloud. The shirt was snug but offered him breathing room whereas the sweats you dug out of storage (an ex of yours left them ages ago) fit him a little too well. You had to go clothes shopping for him before you jumped his bones.

"What did you hear?" Joker asked again.

Don't look away, it's a sign of guilt. You thought.

"Why were you using my phone?" You walked over to the vanity and snatched it off. It was locked and your phone screen glowed, prompting you to enter your passcode.

"Pause. How did you unlock my phone Joker?" He narrowed his eyes at your attempt to interrogate him.

The fact you were trying to change the subject confirmed you heard something and given the topic of his conversation, that wasn't good.

He didn't make contact with his crew in days and used your phone as a burner of sorts to keep his operations up and running to execute an off the table mission. The phone call was long and nothing said was for the faint of heart.

Joker wanted to protect you from this, he just wasn't consciously aware of that yet.

You crossed your arms using the height difference to look down at Joker seated. He didn't look intimidated in the slightest. He propped his arm on the vanity and began a staring contest with you.

He was used to being tortured by seasoned cops, wardens, the criminally insane, even Batman himself. What were you gonna do?

You pouted your lip and batted your lashes, throwing in an adorable huff in for better results. No matter how tough Joker thought he was, no one could resist your puppy dog face.

Joker blinked, shifted, and resisted the urge to look away but your eyes were hypnotic– using unnatural powers against him. He folded faster than he'd like to admit.

You smirked and leaned in close (Joker thought for a second you were going to kiss him) and bopped his freshly painted nose. "Ha! I win! Now, who did you call? You're acting like I can't go to my call history and see the number."

You did just that but ran into a problem. It was gone.

"Judging by your face.. they already destroyed the call trace. It's none of your business, Bunny." Joker stood up to stretch and the helm of his shirt rose up, letting you see a row of muscles.

You cleared your throat, looking away.

"You really shouldn't leave your phone unlocked around strangers Y/n." He made a move towards you, "It's.. not.. safe." By the end of his warning, he towered over you, looking down at you with a dangerous gleam in his eye.

You definitely heard him order someone's murder. It was the only explanation as to why he needed to erase the phone call.

This was a murderer standing before you. If he wasn't in your apartment, he would be out on the streets of Gotham wreaking havoc. You had to remember that fact and never forget it.

Your mouth flopped like a fish as the words became stuck in your throat. What could you say after overhearing his phone call? Nothing. So you decided to distance yourself and feign ignorance.

You closed your eyes. "Well, I ahem. I'm glad you got to shower and freshen up. I-I changed the bed for you and I'm working on dinner."

You were still ignoring him. Two could play this game then. "Oh? What're we having?" Joker asked.

How could he be so casual about this? Tears threatened to fall from your eyes and you didn't understand why you were so bent out of shape about it.

You invited him into your home to save your own hide. You didn't sign up to be an accomplice. You were technically a hostage. Your generosity and kindness was done purely out of survival.

So why did your heart squeeze at the thought of Joker going behind your back?

You had no ties to him despite your feelings trying to make something out of nothing.

"Um. Pad Thai with fresh spring rolls and bok choy. I should um g-get back to cooking. Yeah. Cooking..." You turned to leave but Joker's hand reached out and grabbed yours.

It wasn't clammy like when he was bleeding out on your couch. Now it was warm with pronounced calluses on the palms.

You didn't want to know what weapon he frequently used in order to form them. It was hard to ignore the way his hand fit perfectly in yours like a puzzle piece snapping into place.

Somehow Joker read your thoughts and squeezed your hand, not letting go.

He could sense the brick wall forming that separated you from him. He didn't want to be iced out, not again.

He didn't like the emptiness your absence left behind. This was all new and confusing to him and you weren't helping him understand any of it!

"Y/n. Whatever you heard, it's not what you think."

He mourned the loss of your hand when you fled towards the door.

"I'll call you when dinner is ready." You mumbled over your shoulder.

And just like that Joker knew. He was back to square one. Perhaps even further from earning your trust.

#ledger joker x reader #ledger joker #heath ledger #joker x y/n #romance #cross posted on AO3 #cross posted on wattpad #Heath Ledger Joker #dark knight joker #heath ledger!joker #heath ledger joker x reader #heath ledger joker x black!reader #ledger!joker #joker x you #ledger joker x black!reader #joker x black!reader #chaos universe #his lighthouse

171 notes · View notes

mizunetzu · 4 years ago

Note

wait okay i have so many ideas you have no clue- okay so basically y/n is too scared to confess to either ushijima or shinsou (you decide lol) so he just puts love notes in his locker :)) but ushijima/shinsou catches him one day so he teases him about it but he liked y/n too so he lowkey confesses and its super fluffy i- 🥺🥺 i've had this idea for so long but i have no clue where to start writing it myself lolll

Guess who...took 4 months...to do Mr. Shinsoussimps request...not me...ahahaha...what are you talking about...BUT ANYWAYS IM SO SORRY MR SHINSOU PLS TAKE THIS FIC AS MY APOLOGIES

——————

Ushijima x reader - Secret Admirer Love Letter-kun!

⚠️warnings - none

Pronouns- male, he/him

——————

(Y/n’s) hands shook as he traced the linings of his love letter.

It had a red, heart-shaped sticker on the seal flap, with the words ‘To Ushijima-san’ written in royal purple across the back. The letter had slight crinkles from the shaky grip (Y/n) held it with.

His heart raced purely thinking about how Ushijima would react. Would he even react? Or would he just look at him with that blank stare and walk past him? Would he be ridiculed for being a man giving a love letter to another man?

Every single intrusive thought made (Y/n) want to tear up the letter and flush it down a toilet. Nonetheless, he stood next to Ushijima’s locker, waiting for him to appear.

His legs shook. His heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. He could physically feel the sweat running down his forehead. He was probably gaining stares from other students for standing near Ushijima’s locker and panicking silently.

All these ‘what-if’s’ was beginning to make (Y/n) second-guess his decision. Maybe he couldn’t do this after all...

No! He had to! He’s been harboring his feelings for Ushijima for years now, and he was getting nowhere! Even if it was rejection, and he certainly hoped it was not, he needed an answer!

Just as if right on cue, (Y/n) heard the familiar deep voice of Ushijima coming down the hall. He wasn’t saying much, but the accompanied grunts of acknowledgement to Tendou’s ramblings was enough proof it was him. Without thinking, (Y/n’s) panic took over him, shoving his love letter into Ushijima’s locker and dashing out of the way.

He blended himself in with the gaggle of students near their lockers, watching Ushijima as he opened his own locker.

“Ara?” Tendou cocked his head when the letter (Y/n) slipped in fluttered out. It landed on the floor gracefully. Ushijima bent over and plucked it off the ground.

“Our Wakatoshi~kun has a secwet admiwer?” Tendou squashed his face together and boared curious eyes into the heart-shaped sticker on the note. Ushijima grunted.

“It seems to be a love letter.” Ushijima’s low voice sent even more panic through (Y/n). He didn’t want to be there while he opened the letter. But here he was, 10 feet away from him as he carefully peeled off the heart sticker from the envelope.

Ushijima’s eyes silently scanned the letter, it’s meticulous, thought-out writing filling Ushijima’s eyes. The silence rang so, so loud to (Y/n), as he watched Ushijima read his love letter with his emotionless face.

After what seemed like forever, Ushijima lifted his head up from the note. (Y/n’s) heart stopped.

“It is a love letter.” (Y/n), and Tendou, deadpanned.

Tendou reached for the letter. “Fiiiiine, then let me see-!”

Ushijima pulled the letter away, raising it above his head and out of Tendou’s easy reach. He lowered the letter and cradled it to his chest.

“No. It’s mine.”

(Y/n’s) heart fluttered. Could this mean-?

“But it does, however, have no name.”

“Awh. Poor Wakatoshi-kun’s admirer must be rewwy shy~”

(Y/n) internally facepalmed. Of course he forgot to sign the note! Why wouldn’t he?! (Y/n) crinkled up his nose. He was still determined to get his feelings to Ushijima.

He turned around, and walked to class. The next day, for sure, he was going to give him a love letter with his signature on it this time.

——

(Y/n) stared down at his paper, then shifted his eyes to the alarm clock sitting tauntingly at his dorm room’s desk, with the bright red numbers 10:35 pm glaring so menacingly at him. Like it was telling him to hurry up and sign the new love letter he just wrote. (Y/n) re-read the letter on his desk for the 6th time that night.

Everything was perfect. It explained his feelings perfectly, explained how long he’d been smitten for him for, hell, he even doodled a small picture of Ushijima himself with a heart next to it in the corner of the page.

Everything was there, except his name.

Did he really want to put his name, though? I mean, (Y/n) saw how...endearing Ushiwaka’s face looked reading his original letter. What if he ruined that when he finds out it was him who wrote it? And not some cute girl?

(Y/n) stared at the empty space on the page where his name was supposed to go. His hand gripped his pencil tighter than he should’ve, and began to write.

‘(L/n) (Y/...’

He stopped. (Y/n) thought about it for awhile, then grabbed his eraser and scrubbed at the name until it was pristine white again.

‘Your secret admirer’

Was all he wrote.

He packaged up the note in another small envelope, pressed a cute little heart sticker to the flap, and went to bed.

——

The next day, (Y/n) made sure to rush to school early to slip the note in his locker. He wanted to see his reaction to his new note. It made him feel sorta high. What kind of face would he make? Would he be delighted? He hoped he would.

(Y/n) crammed the note into Ushiwaka’s locker. No one was around. Good. No one saw him shove the letter through, therefore no one could tell Ushijima it was him. (Y/n) sighed contently, and timpered off somewhere secluded, but somewhere he could still see Ushijima and his locker.

After scrolling on his phone for what seemed like an hour, he heard Tendou’s familiar voice, humming a strange song and trailing next to Ushijima. It was his daily indicator that Ushijima was near. If he could hear Tendou coming, almost 100% Ushijima would be there too. (Y/n) pocketed his phone quickly and peeked behind a row of lockers.

Ushijima silently unhinged his locker, listening to Tendou talk. However, they fell silent when another letter fluttered out from his locker, this time landing so perfectly in his hands.

“Ara ara? Another note from Admirer-chan?”

“Yes. But I know it’s a boy, Tendou.”

(Y/n’s) heart dropped. He watched as Ushiwaka peeled off the heart sticker once more, while continuing his conversation with Tendou.

“Oh yeah? How so?”

Ushijima stopped, and reached into his locker once more. He pulled out (Y/n’s) previous note, and pointed to a line of text scribbled on there so neatly. Tendou raised his eyebrow, and leaned down to inspect the note.

‘-Besides, there’s no way someone as amazing as you can like a guy like me. It’s weird right? I hope you don’t think it’s weird. But I wouldn’t blame you.’

“Ahhhh~ makes sense...” Tendou hooked his arms dramatically over the back of his head. “But do you? Does Wakatoshi-kun think Secret Admirer-kun is weird?”

Ushijima traced the two love letters with his eyes. “I think he’s brave.”

(Y/n) clutched his tightening chest. It suddenly became really hard to breathe. How was Ushijima being so unintentionally sweet?

Tendou cooed. “Awwww, Is our Wakatoshi-kun catching feelings for his Admirer-kun?”

Ushijima folded the two notes back into their envelopes silently. He said nothing to Tendou’s remarks, while gently placing the two love letters back into a safe spot in his locker.

(Y/n) brisk-walked away, flustered, before he could hear his answer.

——

Writing notes and hiding them in Ushijima’s locker became a sort of habit for (Y/n) in the past few weeks.

Every now and then, he’d write a short love letter signed “Your Secret Admirer” or “Admirer-kun” and slip it under Ushijima’s dorm room door or the cracks between his locker. It became an addiction of watching him unravel the note with the tenderness of an angel. For such a big dude, he held each love letter (Y/n) wrote him with such delicacy.

(Y/n) walked with a pep in his step as he arrived to the school building early, like he’d usually been doing. He’d recently been writing small letters, playground compliments like “I think you look nice today!” or “the way you play volleyball gets me all fired up!” but this was the first time in a while he wrote a good chunk of his feelings out.

At first he thought he would make Ushijima uncomfortable, but after many of his personal notes filled with the most wonderful explanations of his feelings, or rambling about dates he’d like to take him on, he’s grown more comfortable with it. Especially after seeing the teeny tiny, barely noticeable blush tinting his cheeks as he read them.

(Y/n) stopped in front of Ushiwaka’s locker. It was a familiar stop, after cramming in letter after letter inside for about a month or two now. It’s been so long that (Y/n) couldn’t even remember himself.

Just as his hand met with the cold metal locker to slip the note in, two hands slammed down on (Y/n’s) shoulders, effectively scaring him shitless.

“I’ve caught you! Secret admirer-kun!”

“Uwaaaah!”

Tendou made a show of flamboyantly pointing his lanky fingers at (Y/n), bending his back father then (Y/n) knew was possible in the process. (Y/n) jittered, swinging his hands in front of him while stuttering incoherently.

“I-it-its not-! It’s not wh-what it-! T-the letter-I was just-I-!”

“There’s no use for it now, Secret-Admirer (L/n)-kun! You’ve been caught red handed!” Tendou stuck his tongue out heartily while (Y/n) broke into a cold sweat. If Tendou kept yelling the whole damn school would hear him.

“I-I’m not the one leaving notes in Ushijima-kun’s locker! I was just-!”

“Oya? Then how did you know Wakatoshi-kun was gettin’ notes in his locker in the first place?” Tendou eyed him down half jokingly. (Y/n) sputtered.

“More importantly...” Tendou dramatically pointed to the envelope half-sticking out from the slits of Ushijima’s locker. “Whaaaaats that!?”

“That’s-!”

There was no use fighting Tendou on this. (Y/n) deflated, defeated and grasping on to the wall of lockers for support. “Uuuuu...”

“So, Secret Admirer-“

“S-stop calling me that! Just (L/n) is fine-!”

“-Secret Admirer-kun, what made you fancy our lovely Wakatoshi-kun?”

(Y/n) turned around, facing the locker as Tendou smiled his usual, Tendou-grin. (Y/n) didn’t wanna look at Tendou and his stupid knowing smirk.

“He’s just...I dunno, he’s just so-cool...and stuff...and he’s so nice...looking...”

“Ah, such sophisticated words-tell me, do you write all of this down in the letters you give him?”

“Hey!” (Y/n) whipped his head around.

Tendou chuckled, and part of (Y/n) wanted to smack him upside the head. Tendous laughter eventually died down, as he pretended to wipe a tear from his cheek. He looked back at (Y/n), who was blushing profusely and had his arms crossed.

“Phew...haha...” Tendou cleared his throat. He pointed straight at (Y/n). “Now, here’s some ultra wise words from Satori-sama!” He mimicked a fake drum roll on his lap, before pointing at (Y/n) again.

“Ja-jun~! You should Wakatoshi-kun how you feel about him!”

(Y/n’s) heart got stuck in his throat. “A-are you crazy! I could never! I-I’m not...I’m not...I’m scared..”

“Hm? But you’re not scared to write about how much you wanna kiss him alllllllll oveeeeeer-?”

“That’s different!” (Y/n) yelled, more quietly this time. He turned back to the locker, and tipped the rest of the note in sticking out inside the slit. The note disappeared through the gap, just like all of its predecessors. “Like this, I can tell him how much I love him without him knowing it was from me! What if he’s disappointed it’s me and not some other dude?”

“I’m veeeeeery sure he won’t be. But suit yourself, I guess.” Tendou shrugged. He turned around and left, but not before saying,

“But you’d better tell him yourself before he finds out from someone else.”

“Wait-what does that mea-“

(Y/n) looked back, only to find Tendou gone. (Y/n) stood there, perplexed, before dashing off to his own locker, so he wouldn’t be spotted near Ushijima’s.

——

Everyday when (Y/n) went to slip another note into Ushiwaka’s locker, Tendou’s words would ring in his mind.

‘You’d better tell him yourself before he finds out from someone else.’

He knew that. He knew that but he couldn’t stop himself from cowardly slipping notes into Ushijima’s locker, just to run and take cover as he opened them up. And one time he could swear Tendou was looking right at him in his hiding spot when Ushijima was reading one of his letter.

(Y/n) shook the thoughts from his head. That happened 3 days ago, and nothing happened. Tendou was probably just trying to scare him into telling him. Yeah. There’s no way anyone could’ve found out about him being Ushijima’s secret admirer.

He huffed and strode up to Ushijima’s locker, just like he did every time before that. No one was in the hallway. There was no footsteps, at least to (Y/n’s) knowledge, and Tendou wasn’t around with his booming voice. If (Y/n) could hear Tendou coming, chances are Ushijima was not too far behind.

Tendou wasn’t there. (Y/n) was safe. He smiled and rose the letter up to the slot in Ushijima’s locker. He slowly crammed the note in, slowly, slowly until-

Slam!

A large, calloused hand slammed against the locker, making (Y/n) jolt up in surprise. (Y/n’s) heart stopped beating. He felt someone lean against his ear, and then they whispered:

“So Tendou was right. You were the one leaving the letters in my locker.”

“Ushijima-kun-!”

(Y/n) whipped his head around by the speed of lightning, pressing himself against the locker wall as if he’d disappear into it. Stupid fucking Tendou! Of course he’d tell Ushijima!

Ushiwaka didn’t move from his spot in front of (Y/n). His arm outstretched on the wall beside (Y/n) didn’t falter either, making him blush even more. God, he wanted to disappear.

The letter, now hidden crudely behind (Y/n) sweaty back, was being smushed as he tried shrinking in on himself.

“I-I-“ (Y/n’s) mouth ran dry. “It’s not what it looks like-!”

“Hm.” Ushijima’s deep voice manage to startle (Y/n), despite being right infront of him. God, he was close. So close. He’s too close. Oh god, why is he so close?

Ushijima suddenly grabbed (Y/n’s) hand, making him sputter in surprise as Ushijima pulled it out gently. A letter with a red heart sticker on the flap was wedged in between (Y/n’s) shaky, sweaty fingers. Ushijima looked at the envelope, while (Y/n) averted his embarrassed eyes.

“...But it’s exactly what it looks like.”

Words perished in (Y/n’s) throat. If the locker would just open up and swallow him whole, now was the time.

Ushiwaka plucked the note out of (Y/n’s) hands, ignoring the small protests of (Y/n) himself. He tried to grab for the letter, but Ushijima held the envelope high above his head and grabbed at (Y/n’s) shivering wrists. (Y/n) squeaked.

“...why are you trying to grab it back if this letter was meant for me in the first place?” Ushijima looked oblivious to (Y/n’s) embarrassment. (Y/n) croaked. He didn’t even register what Ushiwaka said with how strong and warm his grip on his wrists were.

He didn’t realize Ushijima managed to peel off the heart sticker and fish out the note with his hand until he started reading the letter. His eyes scanned the words, even when (Y/n) quietly squirmed protestingly in his grasp.

“Mm.” Ushijima hummed. (Y/n’s) eyes widened when he realized what he wrote in today’s note.

‘Y’know, I think you’re really cool with how you’re so dedicated to your club. But maybe...one day we could grab a bite to eat after your club activities? Just you and me? And maybe if I’m lucky enough I just might get a kiss from the amazing Ushijima Wakatoshi-kun~’

(Y/n) wanted no more but to die then and there. Ushijima looked at (Y/n) with an unreadable gaze.

“Ah. So it seems in today’s letter, you would like to go out for food and kiss. I am free after club activities today at 6. Are you free at that time or must we reschedule?”

(Y/n) met Ushijima’s state with a confused face. He said nothing-he couldn’t say anything. All he could do was muster up a weak “w-wha..?”

“So...you are not free today...?” Ushijima’s face was normal, but he gave off the same vibe a sad, kicked puppy would. It was sorta cute. (Y/n) waved his hands around frantically in Ushijima’s grasp.

“N-no! That’s not it! I-I’m free! I’m totally free! I just-“

“You just what?” Ushijima cocked his head to the side bluntly. (Y/n) opened his mouth to say something, but let it clamp shut quietly.

(Y/n) averted his gaze. “Well...you don’t think it’s...weird that I was the one leaving you love letters?”

“But I already knew you were a man in the first place.”

“Still!” Ushijima was genuinely confused. (Y/n’s) voice died down a bit.

“Aren’t you...y’know...disappointed?”

Ushijima’s gaze never left (Y/n’s) eyes. “Why would I be disappointed?”

“I’m...w-well...it’s just...”

Ushiwaka placed his free hand on the other side of (Y/n’s) face, effectively trapping him in between his arms. Ushijima’s heavy gaze was too much to bear. (Y/n) instinctively averted his gaze away.

“You still haven’t given me a valid reason to be disappointed.”

“I-“

“You’re lovely, I believe you are very attractive, and you leave nice letters of encouragement in my locker everyday.”

“Wait-“

“I believe we both have feelings for each other. Therefore, I do not see why you are so hesitant on just doing what today’s lovely note said.”

“Ushi-“

“Is this just an excuse to turn me down? Were the letters not your true feelings? Because if so you just have to say so-“

“Ushijima-kun!”

(Y/n) rasped out between his fingers. He was covering his blushing face, and Ushijima didn’t know why until he realized his face was centimeters away from (Y/n’s). If it weren’t for (Y/n’s) hands cupping his face, they’d probably be able to kiss with one push closer.

“P-ple-please s-step back...”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Ushijima moved back, but didn’t quite move his arms from their positions on either side of (Y/n). He blinked. Silence engulfed them both, Ushijima bluntly staring at (Y/n) as he blushed and blushed into his hands.

Ushijima figured he should say something, and even open his mouth to speak when (Y/n) suddenly piped up, bringing his hands down from his face.

“I-I’m free...at 6...”

Ushijima blinked again.

“Ah. Today?”

“Yeah..!”

“Lovely. It is decided then. Will you wait for me at the gym after practice? If not I can pick you up from your dorm room.”

(Y/n) fought the urge to pinch his arm to see if he was dreaming or not. “I-I can meet you at the gym!”

Ushijima smiled gently, and that’s probably the first time (Y/n’s) seen him smile ever. It was so coaxing, relaxed and warm, (Y/n) wanted to take of picture of it and just stare at it for days. Ushijima let his hands fall to his sides. Not before giving a pat to (Y/n’s) head.

“It is decided then. It’s a date.”

(Y/n) had to remind himself to thank Tendou later.

——————

Lowkey this was so fun to write~ why don’t y’all leave some love in the comments because of that~~?

#ushiwaka x male reader #ushijima x male reader #wakatoshiushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #ushy gushy #hq x y/n #hq x male reader #hq ushijima #hq x reader #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu x reader #ushijima x you #ushijima x reader #ushijima x y/n #mr shinsoussimp

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ronsonlywhore · 4 years ago

Text

❛ 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘃𝗶𝘀𝗶𝘁𝘀. ❜ cedric diggory x reader

summary: every night, you disappear somewhere in the castle. no one knows where you go, and you don’t come back until way after curfew. you know it’s risky, but you do it to spend time with cedric.

pairing: cedric diggory x fem!reader

prompts (from isa’s writing challenge): fluff/ 12. “this reminded me of you.” 17. “i’m never going to leave you. i promise.”

a/n: wrote this for isa’s 2.2k writing challenge! @acosmis-t

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

you look over your shoulder, making sure you’re not being followed as you quickly walk down the corridor. the setting sun shines in through the windows, giving you just enough light to see where you’re going. you tried visiting cedric when it was dark once; you were caught by filch and his stupid cat, and earned yourself a week’s detention.

you see the abandoned classroom at the end of the hall. you pick up your pace, finally reaching the door. you step inside and find cedric sitting on the old teacher’s desk. he’s swinging his legs like a child, and his arms are crossed.

he looks up when he hears the door open, smiling as he sees you. “you’re early today, (y/n),” he says as he walks over to you, looking excitedly at your bag. “why are you so out of breath?” he asks when he notices your heavy breathing.

“i ran half of the way here. mrs. norris was tailing me. don’t worry,” you add when you see cedric’s concern showing on his face, “she didn’t see where i went. i managed to shake her off on the corridor above.”

he nods and makes a dive for your bag. you move out of the way before he can peek though, leaving him frowning and pouty. “patience, cedric,” you say and sit down on an empty chair.

“how long have you been waiting?” you ask, trying to make conversation.

“i’ve been here since six ‘o clock,” he responds. “i could smell dinner from the great hall even from over here. ready to show me what’s in the bag now?”

“my, my, aren’t we feeling eager today?” you rummage around your satchel and take out the first item: cedric’s missing charms book.

his face lights up when he see it. you flip it open and set it in front of him, turning the page every so often. his eyes skim over the pages, smiling softly at certain notes he scribbled in the marges, chuckling at doodles he would draw of you during class.

“charms was always my favorite subject...where did you find the book?” cedric asks.

“under my bed. i suppose you had left it lying on the floor the week it went missing, the week before…” you trail off, looking at him sorrowfully. cedric tries to smile, but looks more like he’s in pain instead.

trying to change the topic, you pull something else out from your bag, saying, “this reminded me of you.”

cedric laughs; a real laugh, a laugh you haven’t heard in a while, as you place the walking viktor krum figurine on your palm. the figurine looks grumpily at you, but his face lights up when he sees cedric. krum waves enthusiastically, motioning for cedric to pick him up and let him strut around his hand.

cedric smiles again, that painful smile, as he stares at the living figurine of krum.

“remember when you bought him for me at the world cup?” you ask wistfully, remembering how much fun you and cedric had before the night was ruined by death eaters.

“yeah, i do. i said...i said one day they would make figurines of me like that.”

he looks sad again, so to try and cheer him up, you say, “you were a phenomenal seeker.”

“i started quidditch for you,” cedric confesses.

“you did?” you ask, surprised. he had never told you this before.

he nods and explains, “in our second year, you said you loved quidditch. i didn’t know anything about it, but to impress you, that summer i begged my father to buy me a broom and practiced on it everyday...everyday for the entire summer.”

all you do is stare at him, wanting nothing more than to embrace him and never let go.

he continues, “and in our fourth year, when you needed help in charms class, i studied every night just so i could volunteer to tutor you.”

he keeps talking, listing another number of occasions where he did something just to grab your attention, and you can’t believe you never noticed just how much cedric had loved you before.

“when we started dating this year, i had never been happier. i entered myself in the triwizard tournament so you could...feel proud of me, i guess.”cedric turns around, facing away from you. his shoulders start shaking, but you know he’s not laughing.

you reach out to comfort him, but your arm goes through his chest. your hand feels cold as it passes through him.

he looks down at your arm sticking out the other end of his body. “i forget sometimes. forget i’m not…” he stops. you bring your arm back.

“it gets lonely sometimes, too.”

“i’m sorry, cedric,” you whisper.

“just promise me one thing, yeah?” he says as he turns around. you nod. “anything.”

“promise you won’t leave me, that you won’t forget me. promise you’ll never let me be alone long enough to…” he swallows. “long enough to disappear.”

he gets as close to you as he can get without floating through you. close enough to kiss you, if he was still…

it’s a hard thing to promise, you think.

“i'm never going to leave you. i promise.” you say firmly.

he smiles. this time it isn’t a painful one, or a forced one. it’s filled with joy, genuine happiness.

it’s a smile you haven’t seen since the night he died.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

a/n: hey i hope you figured out the reader was talking to cedric’s ghost the whole time i literally got the prompts from the fluff section but turned it into an angst instead...sorry i got carried away.

taglist:

@ch0kemedracomalfoy @skaratjung @miraclesoflove @ronbrokemyheart

if you want to be added to my taglist, fill out the form here

#cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory smut #cedric diggory fluff #cedric diggory angst #cedric diggory x y/n #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter angst #harry potter fluff #hp imagine #hp fanfic #hp fluff #hp angst #tw death #tw ghosts

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sakamaki-richter · 3 years ago

Note

Daily Reminder, Day Four —

❝ Knock, knock, fufu. I'm here once again, just as I finished drafting your special reminder for today. Please, go ahead... It's all yours to read; I overheard you were a poet, so I thought you might appreciate this sonnet I wrote...〜 ❞

Akin to iced moonlight swaying o’er Whispered waves surfacing the pale seascape, His cheeks; ne’er as burnt as crimson clovers, Unblemish’d, un-kiss’d, though his love agape. Blood so dry, deep, doth His irises burn; Engulfed by dying embers of passion For one who gives nought, yet still does He yearn, Yet Her clemency’s cruel ― His soul, ashen. In spite, with Monarchical grace and will, May He oppose His foes, triumph ordain’d; If sought, apace with Him will she stand ‘til The last sunset stains all amber, curtain’d. Though she is not Her, and not Her is she, Separate she loves Him, a pure love it be.

Whenever he glanced upon from the page, it's already too late. She - red face and all - has disappeared, not to be seen again until tomorrow.

(( this is cringey uggghhhh i wrote this whole sonnet >< but the second half of it kind of fell apart i feel T-T ANYWAY WHINNN!! Please only answer this whenever you feel up to it! I won't send anymore after this until you're feeling better and you're back, because I don't want to clog your inbox!! Please take care of yourself, ily ♥️ ))

((hello yes i’m finally answering this and i just gotta say: richter move over it’s my turn to receive a sonnet from ava 🙄🙄 nah but ava you wrote. a whole ass sonnet. FOR THIS MAN??? man he’s so lucky rn. and it was so good 😭😭😭. AND DW. you can send in your daily reminders whenever you feel like :)). i’m a bit slower on replying. but feel free to send stuff in still!! ily ♥️ ))

❝ Well now. You’ve written an entire piece, all for me? I do hope you’ve done your best, or I may just critique this work of yours.❞

The man held the poem in his hands, eyes scanning over each line carefully in order to get the most out of what was written. Richter would dare say he was a bit impressed with what he was given, yet the only indication be dared to give being the slight raise of his eyebrows.

Yet when he went to look back up, his little admirer was gone. What a pity, leaving before he had the chance to respond like that. He couldn’t help but sigh as a response, his features softening up as he looked at the poem once more.

❝ How cruel… Making me wait like this…❞

Folding the paper delicately, he slipped it into his pocket. He’ll keep this one safe…

( ❛ I guess I’ll have to see what tomorrow brings… What a shame… ❜ )

#asks #the-most-diabolik-of-lovers #ava 💜#ava’s daily reminders 💜#richter sakamaki #sakamaki richter #((GOD THIS TOOK SO LONG TO GET TO. been sitting in my drafts for days.))#((im still extremely drained. and not all the way better ><))#((but im at least feeling better than yesterday!!))#((richter very quickly became a comfort character so making content for him >>>>>>> ))#((anyways learning to write poetry so he can send YOU one in response 😤😤))

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bush-viper-cutie · 4 years ago

Text

I’ll be your Valentine

Pairing: young!severus X reader

Word Count: 7,350

Rating: T for teen

Plot: Severus is humiliated once more by his friends in an attempt to fit in. It was a miscalculation on his part, but he couldn’t have predicted how disastrous his mistake would be. It had taken you days, weeks, months to build up the courage to confess your feelings to your crush, but what did you expect to have happen when doing it on Valentine’s day?

Warnings: Bullying, kissing, slight angst

A/N: Happy valentine’s day everyone! I hope everyone is having a good day :D Wrote this just for today and took some inspo from @violet-knox’s the Lion, the Snake, and the Locket series, (SPOILER: more specifically the locket! :D )

Posted: 2/14/21

Masterlist

—–

(Y/n) = your name

~*~*~

~*~*~ = change in POV

~*~*~ = time skip

—–

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Severus was bent over his journal, quill scribbling across the pages at rapid speeds, feather dancing through the air as Professor Flitwick went on and on about the creation of information charms. Words like ‘impossible’ and ‘far too advanced’ only made him roll his eyes. If wizards like the Great Ciera Vela and Sir Wicksley Brightington could create inventions such as the early telling clocks or talking chips at mere fourteen years of age, then who gave Flitwick the right to deem it impossible for a seventh year to create one?

Severus jerked his head up at the sudden bang of the classroom door as it flung open, almost giving himself a horrible headache at the sudden motion.

Flitwick jumped on his stool and turned wrathfully. “Who is interrupting my lecture!” A little man, half the size of Flitwick himself, came storming inside just as annoyed with himself as Flitwick was of him, and held up a bouquet of flowers. “Ah… alright, alright, get on with it.”

The dwarf, dressed in a bright red robe with fake angel wings and a halo too small for his head, approached a Hufflepuff boy on the opposite end of the class. He pulled up his robe, which revealed his real clothes underneath – grass-stained trousers and steel-toed shoes – and took out a folded note from his pocket. “Oh Huegert,” he began in a raspy voice, reading out the poem as unenthusiastically as possible.

Severus groaned and sat back in his seat. His eyes narrowed in dislike at the Hufflepuff who didn’t seem to care that his admirer had interrupted class. As annoying as it was to hear Flitwick squeak away on a tangent about the creation of the type of charm they were learning about, he much preferred it than this.

The dwarf cleared his throat as thunderously as a rockslide down a mountain and bowed, ready to head out after completing his job.

“Psst,” a voice whispered from the back. “Snivellus!”

Severus ignored them, and turned to his fellow Slytherins instead. They all looked as annoyed as he felt and smirked when he caught their eye. The Slytherins had their own way of showing their “admiration” and it didn’t include embarrassing poems or gawky flowers.

“Snivellus!” The voices behind him snickered. “Where’s your flowers?”

“Doesn’t anyone like you?”

Flitwick went on with the lecture and Severus went back to writing feverishly until class was over. He packed his things and followed his friends out the door, keeping at their heels. He pulled out his scarf and wrapped it around once, twice, as the chill from the open arched windows blew through.

“Let’s head down to Hogsmeade. I heard the Three Broomsticks is serving red butterbeer today, bet it’ll taste different.”

“It never does. Not the green ones, or the purple ones – ”

Severus slung his pack over his shoulder and followed his friends down the corridors, out the castle doors, and down the frozen lawn. They talked about food, their significant others, and the gifts they’d given and received. Some had gotten golden cufflinks, diamond pressed watches with metal so smooth it could reflect a candle’s light from a mile away, while others had received nice ties or new shoes. They’d given expensive bracelets with dancing charms, glittering jeweled necklaces, and remarkable earrings that reformed with every wear so as to never be the same twice.

“So how’s it possible to make those woodchips talk to each other from anywhere in the world?” the tallest of them asked.

Severus pulled his eyes up from his scrappy shoes and looked at the Slytherin. He was referring to the talking chips. “They’re cut from the same wood, precisely from the opposite sides of the tree and bound with a complicated spell.”

The Slytherins around him nearly jumped, forgetting Severus was among them.

The tallest one, Zander Ervingwell, whose father owned the Daily Prophet, rubbed his chin and smiled. “That so? Then, could we chop any of these tree,” he motioned at the forest as they walked down the trail to Hogsmeade, “and make one of them?”

The others turned to Severus and he reveled in their attention. He kept his face straight and shook his head. “We could. If we could get the charm from Flitwick.”

Zander nodded thoughtfully. The rest reformed around him and they kept walking down the trail until they reached the popular little inn. They pulled the door open and were met by warmth, the smell of roast turkey, and wary eyes from the students of other houses.

Severus took his seat at the table they crowded around and refrained from ordering the red butterbeer they were all looking forward to. He pulled the strap of his bag over his head and shoved his patched up bag under the table.

“See? Tastes different.”

“I’d cut my tongue off and have Pomfrey regrow it if I were you – ”

Harold Binny and Regis Dunmarten always tended to natter about anything they could disagree on that held little to no importance. They never discussed anything with each other that could ever lead to an agreement, and Severus knew they took after their fathers, who were avid Wizengamot councilmen.

Zander looked to the others, Marcos Jugson – one of the many brothers – who was looking at a group of Ravenclaw girls, and Mumford Wilkes who stared impassively at the dark oak table. Zander turned to Severus. “You think you could make one, Severus?”

Severus stammered. “We wouldn’t be allowed to chop down any tree – And I’d need the charm…”

“If you’re so smart,” Mumford’s eyes pierced through Severus’ defenses and made him want to dissolve into the air. “Why don’t you make one. You’re always saying you can make spells but when we ask to see them they’re never ready.”

Severus wanted to disappear from the very seat he sat in. In this moment he much preferred his usual spot, behind them all, hidden from view of their scrutinizing eyes; but now every one of them looked his way, expectantly. “I can make one,” he said, as evenly as he could muster. They were all rich purebloods who could smell unease and weakness from a hundred yards away. “Easily.”

“You could get in trouble, expelled even, with the way information charms work. Sure you’re not scared?” Marcos folded his arms, eyeing him down.

Severus hated him. Almost as much as he hated Lupin and Pettigrew, but not nearly as much as Black and Potter. After all, Marcos had saved him on more than one occasion with his mere presence. And unfortunately, Severus knew what his words hid. It had been just yesterday Marcos had walked in on him pinned to the ground by a group of sixth years, three standing around with their wands drawn on him while their two ‘braver’ friends tried singeing his eyebrows off. As soon as Marcos had hexed them off, the minute their grubby hands had released his robes, Severus had crawled away behind Marcos.

It was a stupid moment of weakness fueled by fear driven by the sight of the flames bursting out of wands so close to his eyes. A mistake he’d let himself make. Severus clenched his jaw and looked him steadily in the eyes. “Of course not,” he gritted out.

Distant laughter caught Marcos’ attention for a split second, and when he turned back his lips quirked up in a smile. “Why don’t you give us a taste of your bravery then? An assurance you’ll do it.” He jerked his head back, motioning at the table of Ravenclaw girls. “It’s Valentine’s day, so why don’t you ask one of them to be yours? Its only just midday. I’m sure one of them’s not yet taken.”

Severus kept his face even and hands clenched tight under the table, unwilling to let them see how badly they trembled. He risked a glance at Zander, who looked at him with folded arms and an equally level expression. Harold and Regis exchanged similar looks, eyebrows raised, and Mumford smirked. There was always a risk when hanging around certain groups of friends, and this one constantly pushed him to the brink of humiliation.

He stood and made his way around their table to face the crowded space of the bar. Everyone was distracted, talking to other patrons or spilling drink down their faces. There was a stool knocked to the ground between him and the girls who only knew he existed from either rumor or witnessing one of his countless humiliations at the hands of Potter or Black. They’d either know him as Snivellus, or as the Slytherin who knows as many curses and hexes as there were words in a dictionary – although it never seemed to matter how many curses he claimed to know, he was never someone anyone feared.

He took a step, and then another, and kept going until he stood beside their table. He cleared his throat but it was as if he was invisible. He cleared it again and the closest one to him, the louder of the bunch, glared up at him.

Great, he had their attention… Now what? He cleared his throat again, made awkward by their obvious attention to him. “Would… Would you want – ”

“Which one.”

Severus blinked at them. “What? Oh, err… Anyone?” The look on their faces made his own go red.

“Oh? Any of us? Doesn’t matter who?” The closest one to him said, looking back at her friends with raised eyebrows and a smirk, causing a chorus of laughs. “So what is it?”

Severus wanted to turn around and bolt out the door. This had been a mistake. A miscalculation. His friends had lured him into a trap and he jumped right on it. He couldn’t run though; they were still watching most likely. This was about him proving he wasn’t scared.

He swallowed what little of his pride he had left and opened his mouth. “Would anyone want… to be…” All he had to do was say it, no matter how humiliating, how embarrassing this was. “My valentine.”

Done. He did it, now he could turn around and go back to Zander, head held high. He didn’t really care what any of them thought. He already knew their answer before he even got out of his chair. He turned around as they laughed in his face, ready to face his friends and get back to business.

“Wait! Severus!” one of them called him back.

He stopped. Turned. And stared at the Ravenclaw who had stood up. She waved him back with a shy look on her face and his heart leapt into his mouth. He swallowed it down and walked back, feeling his blood rush into his cheeks.

“Severus,” she said, shyly twirling her finger around the mouth of her cup. “I haven’t given you an answer.”

“You’re answer?” He couldn’t help the tremble in his hands now. He started pulling on the loose stitching on his sweater.

She smiled up at him… And in the blink of an eye she snatched up her cup and threw its contents in his face. “Of course not, Snivellus!”

Severus gasped as the cold liquid splashed his face, drenching his sweater. He spit out cherry colored butterbeer and wiped his face with his wet sweater sleeve. He turned away from the laughter, but it circled him. He blinked through red-tinted droplets and scanned the faces of the crowd. It’d be easier to look for someone who wasn’t laughing because every face his gaze landed on was one that made his chest constrict.

He turned to his table, to his friends. They were all doubled over with pure glee, laughing as dignified as they could all while he dripped on the floor, the mock of the inn. He grit his teeth and closed his eyes, unwilling to let any more of this scene get stored in his brain. He stumbled through chairs and stools and pushed his friends aside to get his bag. He pulled it free and threw it over his shoulder. He stumbled some more as the laughter continued and threw his body against the door, throwing it open.

He ran out the door, out of the warmth of the inn and into the cold. The streets were nearly empty as wizards settled into homes or restaurants for lunch. He ran as fast as he could back to the castle, not caring about the sting of the wind as it scraped along his skin. His eyes burned and he felt tears begin to form as the realization of what had just happened began to bubble in the pit of his stomach.

He almost slipped on the bridge and as he reached its crest hands gripped his arms, stopping him on the spot. He blinked tears away and cleared his vision, looking up from the ground, ready to fight whoever had stopped him. He didn’t have to tilt his head up very far, easily staring into the eyes of another student, though he couldn’t immediately tell what house they belonged to.

“You almost bumped into me,” she said, releasing her hold on him.

“You should have cleared my path,” he spat.

She shrunk back and gripped the edge of her cloak. “Well I’ve been looking for you…”

Severus stared at her. He couldn’t possibly fathom why. He’d never seen her before, never talked to her before, and couldn’t imagine what she’d want from him. “I’m here aren’t I?”

She swallowed and nodded. “I… I have something for you…”

“Then hurry up,” he growled. It was cold and the butterbeer was starting to freeze.

He watched her open her cloak and noticed she wore a light red dress, almost pink. He wanted to hex it and turn it black from how sick of everything Valentine he was. The cloak pulled back further and she pulled out a single pink carnation with a green ribbon tying a note to its stem.

Her cheeks blushed as she held out the flower for him to take and he couldn’t help but stand there motionless, waiting for his brain to think something, say something, act and do anything other than gawk at her.

“Will you be my valentine, Severus?” she said, as if the flower hadn’t signaled just that.

He noticed his hand moving to take the flower while he remained stupefied, petrified, and perplexed. His heart, shattered and broken as it was, beat with immense longing as he pulled the flower to his chest.

“I… who are you?” He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t asking more important questions like ‘why me’, ‘is this another prank’, or ‘are you real’. He could feel the air changing around him as hope seeped into his soul, giving him a breath of new air that seemed to revitalized and mend the most broken parts of himself.

She smiled and stepped closer, making his breath catch in his throat. He could feel a warmth radiating off her, reaching out to him, banging on his walls, begging him to let her in. Her eyes looked up at his and he felt his legs go weak. He wanted to run, to apparate away and corral his thoughts, but he also wanted to stay and stare back into the depths of hers. It was different the way her eyes looked at him. He couldn’t see any hatred or disdain like so many others had in theirs when their gaze ever landed on him.

“(Y/n),” she said. “I’ve seen you around school and… Well I’m ashamed to say I’ve sort of been hiding from you.” She blushed and looked down at her feet. “Severus,” she whispered. “I’ve had a crush on you for quite a while.” She looked up at him then and gave him another one of her gentle smiles.

He accepted her words without another thought and regarded her truthfully, willing to open his heart to her. Her smile melted him, her eyes dazzled him, and, he realized finally with one long look, she was very cute.

“So, will you?” she asked again, taking another step closer.

He gripped the flower tighter and it finally hit him. She liked him. She really liked him. Someone had a crush on him and – Merlin, she was cute. Could he really be so lucky?

He opened his mouth when he realized something. She had broken his barriers and shields and so he hadn’t had the mind to analyze his surroundings. Laughter. He heard laughter coming closer. He turned and cursed the world for allowing anyone else but her and him to remain. It was the group of Ravenclaws making their way to the bridge.

“I – ” He couldn’t get any other word in before the group had reached the very spot on the bridge they stood in.

The girl closest to them spotted the pink carnation instantly, pointed, and laughed. They elbowed each other, making sure everyone had noticed him and the flower, and stopped next to them.

“Snivellus! Why didn’t you get us any flowers!” one of them guffawed.

The closest one stepped closer and crossed her arms. “(Y/n), don’t let him fool you into thinking you’re special. He just came from asking for any one of us to be his valentine. He didn’t even care which one.”

(Y/n) eye’s filled with tears and she looked up at him, expecting him to deny everything. Severus realized he’d never felt true heartbreak until now. He knew now that the shattering he’d always felt was nothing compared to the pain now, like stakes were being hammered into his still pumping heart one by one, emptying him completely.

He could lie to her. He could deny it all. But that warmth he’d felt radiating off of her… that’s what he’d imagined safety to feel like. If he could only step closer and feel it once more. If he lied, he’d be bringing thorns and barbs into something so precious and delicate.

He took a step closer to her and lowered his head, ready to feel her pull away that warmth she offered him. “I can explain it. Please listen – ”

She jerked back from him and the cold of winter swooped in to fill the air where the heat had disappeared.

~ * ~ * ~

The air was cold and dry, sapping the warmth from your hands that had, moment ago, been as hot as coals from the pure adrenaline that had coursed through your veins. The amount of courage it had taken to finally admit your feelings to Severus had taken you days to carefully collect. You had spent hours pushing away your fears, and now something much worse than rejection was taking place.

Your truest crush had asked out another girl, or many other girls, and your foolishness had landed you at the bottom of his list. Was what they were saying true? You didn’t want to believe it but… he didn’t deny it, no matter how much you begged him to with your eyes.

You closed them shut and sniffed. When you opened them again you marched right through the group of Ravenclaws, right passed Severus, and headed down the road to Hogsmeade. What a fool you were, charming your old dress into one you hoped would turn you into Severus’ dream. All those breaks spent following him around, hiding behind pillars and admiring him from afar, watching how he always pushed his long black hair behind his ear when he got ready to read… Or the way he bit his lip when he paused to think before jotting things down in his journal. You’d even swooned at the way he walked, like a sulking cat trotting from one shadow to the next hoping to remain unseen. You had seen him. You had seen him and loved what you saw.

When you reached the low lamp post right before town you turned and wished you hadn’t. Severus was watching you, with his dark glimmering eyes that very rarely ever looked up from the ground. He never gave anyone his attention, but he was giving it to you now. His large nose was almost pink and nearly-invisible lines trailed down his cheek. He stood there, tall as he was despite always slumping his shoulders, holding your flower to his chest.

You sighed heavily and turned, starting back on your way down Hogsmeade’s cobbled road.

~ * ~ * ~

There she went with his heart in her pocket. Was it possible? Could someone so suddenly appear in his life, shake his world upside down, and then walk away like she hadn’t just changed him forever? Love; now whenever that word would be spoken, he’d only think of her. Kindness; only her face would remind him of the definition. Safety, hope, happiness, dreams; her eyes, her smile, the softness of her curves, the allure of her scent, the wonder of what her hugs could have felt like, and that warmth that had melted away his armor. All his life… he’d never felt that warmth. Not from his mother, not from his friends, and not even from –

He winced as the numbness gave way to a heavy emptiness that hollowed him out. He began walking back to Hogwarts as if nothing had ever happened, except he’d acquired a single pink carnation. With every step he heard voices, familiar and sharp, that stabbed him with words he’d heard a million times before. He knew he was hated, despised, and unworthy of good things. He had just hoped, fueled by the encouraging gentleness of her eyes and welcoming smile, that he could finally be wanted.

~ * ~ * ~

Severus stepped into the common room and pulled on the strap of his bag, hearing several patches groan with protest as the seams threatened to come undone. He headed to the boy’s dormitory and slouched on the wall, unsure if he could make it another step without collapsing. He felt crushed, pulverized, like his life energy had been spent and he was finally coming to an end.

A door opened in the distance and he straightened, staring at the stone floor as his housemate walked by, ignoring him like a ghost in the corridors. He let out a sigh and dragged his feet forward until he reached his room. It was empty, save for a spoiled grey cat which slept on a bed.

He dumped all his things on his bed. He wanted to close his eyes and sleep until he could no longer remember how beautiful her name had sounded coming from her lips. He held out the carnation and rolled its stem between his fingers. “(Y/n).”

He set the flower down on top of his things and pulled his sweater over his head. He threw it into his trunk and toed off his shoes, settling into the bed. If he slept he’d be forced to replay the events of today in some horrible nightmare. He pushed things aside – keeping the flower close – and took out his charms journal.

He could work on the information charm and show Zander and the others how capable he was. Maybe then they wouldn’t try to humiliate him. They’d finally accept him. He pulled out his journal and reviewed his notes. All an information charm really was is an incredibly invasive bonding spell. A spell that tied two things together and forced an object to display information about the other. The telling clocks told its owners where certain people where, and the talking chips merely displayed what their partner chips spelled. As long as he kept it small, it would be easy.

For the next few hours he worked on his spell, thinking about nothing more than the charm itself. He sat on his bed, legs crossed, bent over his journal and books as he crossed things out and rewrote spell after spell. It wasn’t working. Everything he tried was too complicated. He could barely get information out of and of the objects he tried. His quills were too old to withstand the bonding spells, his journals gave too much information. He sat back into his pillows and sighed.

He needed something with more purity, something which he knew he didn’t own. He looked around the room, searching for some sort of unused object, some material that could withstand the spell to even initiate the charm… His eyes landed on the carnation he’d moved to his night stand.

Would he have been enjoying a romantic date right about now? Would she have tried to hold his hand? He would have been too nervous to do it himself but… He held up his hand and looked at it. What did it feel like to hold her hand? It would have been smaller than his, warm, and soft. He would have held on forever and never let go. What was she like? Would they have been perfect for each other? He thought of her smile and of her lips, supple and eager as she spoke…

He sat up fast as flashes of kissing her filled his head. No, he couldn’t endure this torture. He scrambled for new material and growled when nothing he owned fit what he looked for. He got out of bed and looked around, eyes glancing everywhere but the flower. He got on his knees and searched under beds until he found something gleaming and silver flashing back at him.

He rolled up his sleeve and stretched his arm under his dormmate’s bed as far as it would go. His hands found the cold metal and closed around it, pulling it back to him. It was a small necklace with silver metal beads that encased delicate diamonds. He remembered how it got there, thrown aside for not being flashy enough, or expensive enough for his crush.

He held it in his hands and sat back on his heels. It had a round charm, flat as if calling out to him. The surface would be a perfect spot to display something small… a single word… a name perhaps. He ran his tongue over his teeth and felt he was on the verge of something great. All it would take was a single spark of an idea and he could create something grand and – as Flitwick seemed to think – impossible for any Hogwarts student to pull off.

He groaned as he stood and made his way back to his own bed. He set the necklace on his knee, and on his other began to write. It took precious more hours of writing, scratching out, and re-writing until the spell was as condensed as possible; long spells never worked well, the shorter the phrase the better.

Now that he had the bonding spell perfected… what could he use? He stared at the necklace and knew the answer. He sighed and took the necklace in his hand again and began the spell. It was quick to read, and as he moved his wand over the silver metal the air began to shimmer. His lips moved carefully as he focused his intent and finally, at the last word he pointed his wand at himself.

He felt a slight breeze brush his skin and shivered. It was done. He and the necklace were bonded with him as the information giver and it, or more precisely the flat round charm, as the information receiver. He thumbed over the metal and squinted… but no word showed up. The spell was to force the metal to engrave the name of his crush… but her name did not display.

Maybe he got it wrong. He looked through his notes, flipping only the last two pages where he had condensed the spell, and frowned. It is as it should be, unless his logic was somehow flawed… but no, it rarely was. If there was one thing he could count on, anything or anyone in the whole world, it would be himself and his ability to reason correctly.

He stared at the charm again. It could be… He furrowed his brows and pinched his nose… It could be that he didn’t have a crush on her? Not a true one… not like he’d know what that really felt like. But he did like her, very much. He opened his eyes and fell back into his pillows, defeated. What was this even for? Would he really show this to Zander? Was he so foolish to believe Zander would look at her name engraved into this necklace and be impressed with him? No. He wasn’t.

So then… He sat up and looked at the flower once more, as if begging it to give him answers. Was he doing this for her? Did he really think he could fix what he’d done? Right the misunderstanding and win her heart? “I want to…” Then what must he do?

He pushed out of bed once more and dug in his trunk for a new sweater, pulling it over his head. He’d go down to Hogsmeade and find her, tell her the truth of what happened and then… then he’d kiss her. He swallowed and slowed down. Could he kiss her? …If he’d been brave enough to ask out a group of girl’s he’d never met before knowing full well what rejection awaited him, then he could ask out the kind and gentle girl who had offered him her heart so willingly.

He slipped into his shoes and headed out the door, out of the boy’s dormitory, out of the common room and ran up the dungeon stairs. He needed to find her fast before Hogsmeade hours came to an end. He ran through the castle and shoved open the doors, plunging head first into the cold February air. He sped down the slippery grass of the sloping lawn and nearly tripped out the gates. He caught his footing and continued down the trail, huffing and puffing at the exercise and hating the metallic taste in his throat and mouth.

He grimaced as he crossed the bridge and headed right into town. He checked the Three Broomsticks, she wasn’t there. He checked shop after shop, in alleys, behind houses, and even the lake’s edge and under every tree. She was not eating, shopping, wandering, or sitting anywhere in Hogsmeade. “Where is she?” he growled. Of course this is happening, he knew better than to believe luck was on his side. He walked back down the street slowly, and saw the door to Madam Pudifoot’s teashop open. A couple left, laughing and holding each other by the waists.

Severus swallowed. Was she in there with someone else? After she had realized her mistake in liking him, had she given her heart to someone else, refusing to let this day be a waste? He shook his head and looked away. He couldn’t give up hope, not this time, not with something so rare to ever happen to him. He had to believe the best of her, this (Y/n), who had so bravely confronted him and admitted to her long-standing crush on him. He knew very little about her, but he couldn’t imagine she’d give her heart out so flimsily.

He started his way back to Hogwarts, keeping at a slow and somber gait, and made it back to the castle just in time for dinner. He was too late. Valentine’s day was practically over. He filtered in with other students and took his seat at the Slytherin table. Zander was there, with a spot open next to him but Severus couldn’t take it. He had nothing to show him and after today… he didn’t know how he could show his face around him. Severus took a seat at the back of the table with some lower years and ate in silence, his hand in his pocket, thumbing over the cold metal of the necklace.

~ * ~ * ~

You tried keeping your eyes on your friends, on the food, on your plate as you ate, but your gaze kept lifting to the back of the Slytherin table where a gloomy boy with inky hair sat bent over his food, barely touching it. Severus looked sad, sadder than most days. His nose was pink still and his cheeks red. Had he been outside again? In Hogsmeade… maybe… maybe looking for you? You shook your head. Of course not.

All through dinner you watched him eat alone and away from his friends. Had something happened? When you met him at the bridge he looked a mess with his soaked sweater and hair plastered to his head. And that group of girl, who so readily laughed at him… Maybe… maybe he did have an explanation for what had happened.

Your heart began to beat again, slow at first, and then faster and faster as if hope had filled your soul once more and given you life. You wanted Severus so badly, so badly it hurt and, could you really have him? Was it possible to have the boy of your dreams? If you listened to his explanation would he fix everything and give you his heart in return?

You bit your lip and looked up at Severus once more. You wanted him so bad… It was a chance you needed to take.

~ * ~ * ~

As dinner came to an end, students filtered out of the great hall and into the entrance hall, making their way to their houses. Severus walked among them, defeated and empty. His arms swayed limply by his sides and his head hung low, eyes glued to the ground in front of him. He turned the corner and kept to the shadows of the walls. He didn’t want to be spotted or looked at or found by anyone. There wasn’t a single person in this prison he wanted to see, none except for (Y/n).

He dragged his feet as he made his way through the corridor and nearly yelped when two hands pulled him deeper into the shadows. He stumbled backwards and heard a door slam shut. It was dark and the thud echoed off the walls. He squinted and saw nothing. He fumbled for his wand – he always kept it on him, ready for anything – but someone pinned him to the wall.

“Lumos,” a familiar voice whispered.

Severus stared into the glittering depths of warm, kind eyes. “(Y/n),” he breathed.

Her face was pensive as she stood there, looking him over. She was unsure of him.

Before she could say another word he shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out the necklace. “I-I made this for you… er, well the charm doesn’t work…”

She took the necklace he held out to her and looked at it carefully. “What’s it supposed to do?”

He heaved a quick sigh and looked away. “T’supposed to display your name… er – display the name of my crush.”

She regarded the necklace and gave a breathy chuckle. “Of course…”

Severus frowned. “Of course what?”

“Of course it doesn’t work. You don’t like anyone!” She laughed and stepped back, the wandlight illuminating more of the empty classroom she’d dragged him into. “You didn’t ask out a specific girl, you asked out that whole group. You didn’t care who it was, so long as someone accepted to being your valentine. And I’m…” She closed her eyes and sniffed. “I’m just someone who has a crush on you. That’s all you care about.”

Severus blinked at her for several long seconds. “(Y/n)… I… I want to like you.”

She scoffed.

“No! I mean – I – You – No one has ever liked me and – ”

She shook her head and reached for the door. Severus jumped in her way, desperate to continue talking, to clear everything up. He liked her, he did. She was nice and warm and everything about her made his knees weak and heart pound like crazy in his rib cage. She was pretty, far too pretty for him, and her voice was soothing, and she was perfect, he just knew it.

“Please let me explain what happened,” he begged her.

She stepped closer and placed her hand on the doorknob stubbornly. “I don’t need an explanation.”

She was so close to him, he could smell her hair, smell the piney scent of Hogsmeade blown into her clothes, infused by the wind. He pressed himself to the door and looked down at her. “Please.”

The look on her face told him she was done. She was done with him and she was done talking. He couldn’t keep her trapped in this room no more than he could make her listen. And yet, he still kept on the door, not letting her pull it open. She huffed and before he could think, she gripped his sweater and pulled him away from it forcefully, shoving him back into the classroom where he tripped and fell onto a seat.

He looked into her eyes. She was fierce. Not the gentle, delicate girl she first appeared to be. There was stubbornness and power to her being. No one could control her if she did not wish it, and the only reason she still stood before him was out of that same kindness that radiated out of her.

“I’m really sorry to have done that, Severus. You don’t deserve to be pushed around like that… but I want to leave… and I will.” She turned around and stepped out of the room, letting the door close behind her.

His heart beat harder than ever before. The way she shoved him, with a calculated caution that told him even when he’d gone too far, when he’d pushed her beyond her patience, she still cared for his wellbeing. She was kind, warm, strong willed, fierce, beautiful, and courageous. The more he learned the more he wanted to her to like him…

He sat there and stared at the wall. She’d been so close he could smell her. She’d grabbed his sweater and for an instant he’d thought – he’d hoped she’d kiss him. Merlin, he wanted to kiss her now. To press this fierce girl into him and kiss her long into the night. He didn’t know how to kiss, and imagined he’d be horrible, but every inch of his body told him he was craving her with an intensity he hadn’t ever felt.

He wanted her, and he wanted her to like him. Needed her to like him again. His hands found the ruffled part of his sweater where her hands had gripped it, and he closed his eyes, imagining her hands still there.

He heard the door and his eyes flew open. Someone stepped in and closed it.

“Lumos.”

A wandlight shined and he could see (Y/n) standing there, looking at the necklace in her hands. He held his breath, waiting for her to speak.

She looked up at him and turned to necklace so he could see, although he was still too far and the engraving would have been too small. “It says my name…” She stepped closer. “If this is a trick – ”

Severus shook his head and sat up. “It’s not a trick.”

She stared deeply into his eyes. “Please explain.”

He nodded quickly and licked his lips. “Ervingwell and his friends – they had me ask out those Ravenclaws to prove I wasn’t too scared to make an information charm… I don’t know why I did it. I thought, knowing they’d all say no, it would be an easy way to prove to Zander I wasn’t as pitiful as he thought I was.” He lowered his head.

There was a long silence, one that made him feel worse than he ever had. He really was pitiful.

“May I touch you?”

Severus jumped. He looked up into her eyes and nodded. “You can do anything you’d like.” His own words made him blush but it was true. She giggled and his heart felt lighter by the sound. Her hand brushed back his hair and he closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of her finger on his temple. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I would never mean to.”

Her fingers pulled back. “You’re saying everything I want to hear… It almost seems too good to be true.”

He stood up and slowly reached for her hand, giving her enough time to pull away, but she didn’t. His fingers hovered close to hers. “M-may I?” She nodded and he took her hand, soft and small in his. “I want to be yours, if you still want me.”

She wrapped her fingers in his and looked up at him. “Do you want me?”

“More than anything.” He couldn’t help but glance down at her lips. Did he want her? His whole heart, mind, and body screamed at him ‘Yes!’

He wanted her in so many ways. He wanted to know her, to have her friendship, to feel her caring ways, to feel her. He wanted her touch.

“I want you, Severus,” she whispered.

~ * ~ * ~

You breathed in the feint scent of ink and page. He was so close. His face lingered just above your and his eyes, those deep wells of pure darkness that looked your face over with lust that could not be hidden. You could tell he wanted you, and despite knowing he wanted your touch and, perhaps, to touch you as well, his eyes glanced up into yours with intensity; like he couldn’t keep himself from acknowledging your very being. You no longer felt like just a girl who had a crush on him… You felt important to him.

“I need you,” he whimpered.

Without thinking you got on your toes and kissed him hard. He didn’t need any more encouragement than that. His hands quickly found your waist and he pulled you into him with a wild neediness that made you melt in his arms.

His arms snaked around you and pulled you closer into his body. He was warm and your own hands wrapped around his neck, playing with his hair, pulling it as you pleased. He moaned and stepped back suddenly, and you almost gasped as you felt him falling back.

You opened your eyes but his hands gripped your waist and pulled you onto his lap. He sat in a chair and waited for your arms to find themselves around his neck once more. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his, tasting him, biting his lip, moving your head with his. His hands pulled you closer to him and he whimpered once more.

“I’ll be anything you want me to be. I’ll do anything to make you happy. I’ll – ”

You pressed your finger to his lips, quieting him. “Severus… I just want you to be you.” His eyes trailed down and he looked away. “I like you the way you are… You don’t have to prove yourself to me or do anything to make me like you… Just be… Mine. Just be my valentine.”

You brushed a tear out of the corner of his eye and pulled his chin up, meeting his eyes. He nodded and pulled you closer, pressing his face into your chest and sobbed. You held him close, rubbing your hands over his shoulders and back in slow gentle circles.

He pulled his face back to look at yours, as if checking to see he wasn’t ruining anything by displaying his feelings so openly. You bit your lip and smiled. Even with delicate tears trailing down his cheeks, he looked cute and dreamy, as he always did.

“I really like you.” You kissed his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, and finally, his lips.

He moaned and closed his arms around you again. “Will you be my valentine?”

“Nothing would make me happier.” You smiled and kissed him once more, feeling him draw you in closer.

“I’ll be your valentine, (Y/n). Yours and only yours. Forever.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

—-

General taglist:

@setsuna-meiou31

@severuslovebot

@bionic-otp

—–

432 notes · View notes

yunhostinyuyu · 4 years ago

Text

bunny, bunny

pairing: friend!yunho x fem reader

gerne: pwp (im sorry), uni au, friends to friends with benefits

wc: 1.8k

synopsis: when your friend and you ended up in a bed in between each other’s thighs, your friendship was in danger of being disrupted. thankfully, you two came up with a solution…

warnings: cock warming, public play, exhibitionism, grinding, descriptions of past sex scenes, use of pet names, orgasm control? a little praise and a little degrading thrown in too because why not

authors note: this is not proof read and I wrote it at 1am please be kind <3

—

It was a summery afternoon, Yunho and you spend it per usual at the park near campus, studying for your final exams. The last rays of sunshine shining though the pine trees that spend shade to the entire space decked in greenery and flowers. It was especially quiet at this time, which was the reason you went there regularly. Yet the specific place in the very back spend and enormous amount of silence that the both of you enjoyed thoroughly.

But despite the breeze that fanned over your legs and arms, your insides were burning. As if someone poured hot chili sauce in your gut, focus not present and the notes you compared and tried to burn into your memory were wasted efforts. The burn inside churning your stomach in all shapes, trying to sit still - but to no avail.

Why? Because your friend right next to you railed you last weekend, and since then acted as if nothing had happened between the two of you. Never had you ever thought of him like that, but ever since it happened, you couldn’t pull your mind off it. It was a thought chain that disrupted every effort to study, reimagining the things that went down in his bed. But anytime you tried to hint at it or even talk about the incident, he avoided it, changed the topic, or even flat out pretended he didn’t know what you were referring to. And it was exhausting. You were even considering forgetting about the whole thing to continue on with your friendship and not to get the mush of sexual fantasies and your blatant neediness between that.

But still, you thought about it. You couldn’t not think about it. Never had anyone… fucked you the way he did.

“I love the way your boobs bounce, the way you clench around me like that- fuck, like that. You feel so snug around my cock, so good bunny. Just for me.”

Panting. Moaning. Maintaining your rhythm. Repeat. He stretched your walls so well, the constant dragging against your velvet walls make you go crazy. Orgasm pending as your legs got more tired, yet trying your best to continue riding your friend.

“Dumb little bunny, getting tired already? Don’t you want to cum?” He teased, seeing and feeling your struggle, releasing a incoherent chain of moans and complaints. His smirk still ever present on his lips, clearly enjoying himself. After a few more attempts on continuing to get your release on him, he rolled over to change your positions, moments before your thigh muscles would have given out.

“Bunny, answer when I ask you something. Do you wanna cum on my dick, huh? I guess you don’t want to then…” he provoked, knowing exactly what he was doing while slowing his movements. “Yun, no! No I wanna cum, please don’t stop, I’m begging you, please please please, I’m just a dumb little bunny. Make me cum, please Yunho. I need-“ he muffled your pleas with his giant hand, pushing his fingers against your tongue while snapping his hips harder then before, sounds of skin slapping filling the room. Crying as he gifted you with your well earned orgasm.

“Snap out of it, Y/N. You’re off somewhere in Dreamland.” his deep voice woke you from the depth of your naughty mind.

“Fuck- Yunho! Don’t startle me like that!” Playfully hitting his arm as you try to compose yourself again and at least pretend to study, so you can find an excuse to get home and take care of the blinding ache that was slowly bubbling up in between your legs.

Yunho got another book out of his backpack, flipping through the pages as he side eyed you again and again. “What did you think about? You’re been really distant today, I’m almost offended.” His voice sounded calm. And yes, he was right, you acted strange - but to your defense, you didn’t know what the late events made you two. Mind rattling without coming to a conclusion, you simply sighed and looked up from your study material. Rolling over from laying on your stomach, to now rest on your back and searching for Yunho’s attention.

“Yunho, I don’t - no I can’t anymore. You idiot make me crazy, all I can think about is you fucking me and I can’t get this image out of my head. And I can’t stand how you keep on pretending it never happened. I hate this so much. I cannot get over it, and you certainly don’t help with your whole spiel.” words hitting him square in the chest, and even while they came out more forceful than you imagined in your head, it seemed to work in your favor… well more or less…

“Bunny, bunny, if you want me to touch you, just tell me. I can tell by the way your thighs rub together…”

“That’s not what I mean Yunho. You’re doing it right now, again! You’re avoiding the issue at hand, and if you don’t man up I’ll leave until you grow a pair of balls.” You shake your head, denying your arousal pooling in favor of getting your point across. His features turned serious for a moment. Closing your eyes in frustration and hiding your face behind your fingers to avoid his stare boring through your skull. But before he said anything, you felt something along your legs-

“You’re too riled up. But let’s talk this though if it bothers you - which it clearly does. But before that-“ his fingers traveled up until they felt the damp material of your panties, moving it to the side to push his own digits in. Mentally cursing at your choice to wear a skirt today of all days. “- let’s relax. Please, just sit up.”

Trying your hardest to keep any signs of newly found ecstasy to yourself, one hand moving in and out of your hole, the other wrapping around your waist to pull you up from your lying position and bring you onto his lap. His chest pressing against your back, his mouth ghosting over the shell of your ear. Whispering, only for you to hear “good bunny, now-“ he pulled his fingers out of you, which contracted a short whine from your end, and despite trying your best to play coy, you failed. Feeling a grin on his face as he continued to work you up. One hand untucking his half-hard member out of his sweatpants. Your mind went blank as you felt him teasing your entrance, hands searching for him to stop.

“Yunho, we’re in public, someone will see us. Please-“ you whine, slowly loosing control of yourself and almost grinding against him, begging for stimulation. Without answering, he slipped inside effortlessly thanks to your arousal that drenched your core. Lewd moans leaving you as his grip found your hips again, holding you close to him, while not giving you a chance to fuck yourself on him.

At this point all the built up composure was thrown out the window and you tried your hardest to get any stimulation from him, which his death grip on you prevented. “Stop clenching, let’s talk.” He commented, not letting up on you. Brows furrowed in confusion while glancing back at him.

“I didn’t expect you to be this needy for me in public. It explains a lot. But in all seriousness…” he started, and despite everything, you could think clear thoughts again, his rough touch comforting you in a way. “Let’s talk it through.”

Deep sighs escaped while chewing on the inside of your cheek. “You know, I don’t know. It was all so awkward since we… you know, did it. I don’t want to loose our friendship but at the same time my mind is filled with you. But not my friend from Uni-Yunho, instead it’s just ‘bunny looks so good doing this and that’-Yunho.” You found it surprisingly easier to talk your mind without having to look into his eyes. But your voice was thin and could break off any moment to turn into whispers.

“I’m- I don’t know what to say, honestly. Did I ever make you feel uncomfortable, or push you to do things you’re not okay with?” He asked out of the blue, and you shook your head vehemently at his question. His grip on your hips let up, feeling that his hold may cause a few bruises, but that was the last of your concerns. “Never. If it did, we would have never gone that far. You know me, I’m quick to reject people when I feel iffy.”

A soft, breathy laugh left him and you felt his warm breath against your neck. “I know. Suppose I’m lucky then.” Hands coming back to lift you off his cock, and you turned around to face him. Slowly sinking back onto him and finding his hands once you bottomed out.

You both were nervous about this, but nonetheless you were determined to get this topic over with, to come to a conclusion. A proper result to see where you both stand at.

“I have a proposal then.“ he spoke, hands leaving yours again to hold you and make you sink onto his boner once again, this time moaning louder than the first time, and a heat crawled up your neck and cheeks. “What if we…“ he guided you up and down, your hands frantically grabbing onto his shirt to deal with the sudden stimulation. Tiny groans tumbling from his lips as well, “Let’s keep this casual. Make it our thing. We don’t have to get caught up with any feelings or attachments. We can simply keep going as friends, and when… you know. We get desperate, we can play with each other.” He suggested while keeping a steady rythym, bucking his hips ever so perfectly, hitting your spots better than anyone before him did.

“Are you suggesting that we- oh fuck! T-that we… become friends with benefits? Mmmh- you sure about this?” trying your hardest to talk properly without drawing too much attention to your situation. Even if any bystander wouldn’t think you were getting off in public, your skirt hiding both of your private regions perfectly. Your sounds and movements would prove anyone otherwise.

Yunho slowly but surely slacked off and stilled his movements while staying snug inside you again. “That’s what I’m saying. You think you can do that?”

In all honesty, this newly found confidence surprised you, but it suited him so well, ever since becoming intimate with him. And having this side of Yunho, alongside a normal friendship, a friendship you cherished and celebrated? Where he still was that funny, yet slightly clumsy and sarcastic person? It seemed like a jackpot.

Breathily, leaning your forehead against his, and nodding at his suggestion. “I can. I want to. I mean, I wanna try this thing with you. Please-“

Suddenly, lips slotting against your own sloppily. Hands touching you everywhere, heavy breathing and panting.

“Let’s take this back to the dorms then, bunny. Be good and I’ll make you cum as much as you want. Sounds good?”

—

#ateez #ateez au #ateez fic #ateez writing #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez suggestive #ateez yunho #yunho x reader

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just-some-random-blogger · 4 years ago

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Death By Bagel

NCT Culinary Student!Mark Lee x Fashion Design Student!Reader Summary: Mark makes a cake cause he's realized he can't lose you to some f-boy. Word Count: 3k+ Warnings: Fluff, childhood au, college au, slowish burn, slight cursing, reallllly fluffy, some broksi-dude action, typos sksksksks, etc.

R E Q U E S T my friend: mark lee, slow burn, friends to lovers

A/N: I wrote a fic that already had like 1k+ word then I LOST IT (i think i deleted it) thus this. It took me 10 years to write this msmsmkskskks. PLEASE TUMBLR IS MESSING WITH ME AND MIXED UP THE ORDER OF SOME OF THE DIALOGUE

“As a doctor, I don’t think you should be doing that,” Mark says, not even bothering to look at his patient seated rudely on the floor. Oop, he’s lying down now.

Mark huffs and looks up from the clay block he was molding on his tray, “YOU’RE SO UNPROFESSIONAL!”

Mark’s mother nearly spits out her coffee upon hearing the words of his five-year-old son. Her husband snorts, “He got that from you.”

The woman throws a look at the man and was supposed to give a snarky retort, up until the sound of the doorbell ringing. She grins from ear-to-ear and dashes to get the door.

When she comes back to the living room, she’s accompanies by another woman and a tiny version of her.

“Markie! Say hello to your Auntie!” Mark’s mom calls.

Mark from the carpeted floor looks up and blinks, examining the stranger-woman and its human-ling. Mark turns to his father who was sat on the couch and receives a nod of approval almost. Mark purses his lips and waves at the woman.

The woman waves back and then crouches down to the little girl, “Baby, say hello to Mark.”

Unwilling, she shakes her head.

“Aw come on, baby. Don’t be shy. Mark over there is a really sweet boy. I knew him when he was in his mommy’s tummy, just like Mark’s mom knew you when you were in mine. You’re the same age so you’ll get along just fine.”

With the unnecessary explanation that gave no justification to the scene whatsoever out of the way, the girl was fooled into peeping up, “Hi, Mark.”

“Hello,” Mark says, not particularly interested, as his patient was still in the midst of dying in his office. He turned to his stuffed toy called Mr. Lion and attempted to stand him up once more.

At this point, the girl makes her way to Mark.

“We’ll be back in two hours, honey. Keep an eye on the children,” Mrs. Lee tells his husband who had been occupied with TV the entire time.

“Yeah. I got this,” he smiles to his wife then goes back to watching.

The bumble bee clad figure sat down to Mark in blue and watched him play.

Mark ignored her for a few seconds, needing to assert all efforts on standing that dumb toy up. Once successful, Mark turns to her, “Do you play doctors?”

Mark was then met with the same lack on enthusiasm. She hums, “I like playing baker doctor.”

All at once, Mark gasps, “ME TOO!”

It was unbeknownst to the children it was oddly specific and the chance of this happening was pretty slim.

And in a blink of an eye, excited giggles erupt in the room, as if they had been having so much fun before this scene. It was here and there the two would become best friends to the very end.

... so I guess it means the reckoning is upon us.

“MARK LEE I SWEAR TO THE FU--” “WHAT! WHAT!?” Mark laughs.

"YOU ATE MY BAGEL! AGAIN!" I growl in a loud whisper, throwing the wrapper at him and his flat head before he could think to dodge it while he annoyingly laughs.

"I asked if I could have it though!" he says, fully knowing his sins.

I glared at him and say lowly, "I thought you were referring to my notes, bread for brains."

Mark snorts loud enough for our teacher to wake up from his nap. Once the class notices, we all pretend to be doing something productive and Mark plays it off with a cough.

"Mr. Lee." Mr. Kim says sternly, clicking his tongue, blinking his eyes rapidly.

Mark finishes coughing and turns to our seated professor, "Yes sir."

"Don't go to school if you're sick and going to cause a racket with your coughing."

Mark nods firmly and Mr. Kim closes his eyes again, mumbling, "page 65 is due tomorrow."

The entire class grumbles. Mark beside me scoffs and makes a face, "Yeah, yeah, Doyoung."

I turn to him and elbow his side.

"Whatever," Mark shakes his head, "professor bunny-teeth won't hear me."

Once class ended, we both get our things and head out for lunch. We walk to our canteen, fussing over assignments, deciding we should do it together later in our mutually free period.

I groan and narow your eyes at him as we have an argument over how he hasn't finished the essay for English, "That's not the point."

"Yo Mark!" a voice calls from afar. Mark and I turn, looking for the voice, and I spot the dimpled senior, Jung Jaehyun, in a table with the rest of his squad.

I nudge Mark and point at the pale guy seated by the corner.

Mark throws him a smile and waves. I follow closely behind him as he walks over to the table. "We're going to sit with them?" I say in some sort of gasp.

"Yeah." Mark replies simply, not bothering to turn to me, "they're cool."

I knit my brows at that and nod, "Yeah I know. But I'm not cute today."

Mark stops in his tracks and throws me a confused look, "what?"

"I didn't put any make-up on today, also I'm pretty sure there's a visible stain somewhere on my jacket, I just don't remember where."

Mark scrunches his face up again, even more confused. "What? How do you... forget a stai-- that's not the point. Why do you wanna look cute today?" He scoffs and continues lowly, "hardly as if you ever look cute."

I let out an annoyed groan and punch Mark's shoulder. "Like when you panicked when Seulgi came over and asked for notes."

Mark openes his mouth, "That is so not the same! Jaehyun's a fuck bo-"

"Just shut up already," I snap and shove him forward so he'd continue walking. "Let's not keep him waiting," I add and mumble, "also I know. Dong Sicheng however is very cute."

Mark chuckles, "he's dated every girl on the dance team."

"Okay, maybe not that cute."

"Ya, Mark," Jaehyun grins and greets the said person with a high-five and chest bump. He turns to me and speaks my name with a smile. I smile back politely and wave.

I'm about to sit next to Sicheng, but Mark shoves me and so I end up sitting on the other side of the bench table with Jaehyun. I turn to Jaehyun with a small, non-awkward smile and shoot Mark a glare. He seems unbothered though.

"So, you up for a round later?" Jaehyun asks Mark.

Mark talks over me, "you know it, dude."

Jaehyun flashes his dimple smile all the stupid girls fall for. I'm only half falling for it cause I'm only half stupid. He raises his brows, "you bought the dough, right?"

This makes me knit my brows.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I really did this time," Mark mumbles quickly. "It's my turn anyway."

Jaehyun gives an off look, "that's literally what you said last time bro."

"Yo, no for real. It's in my bag, if you wanna check."

Jaehyun shakes his head when Mark begins to scramble for it, "no, Lee, it's good. We wouldn't want you friend to get dirty."

Is it just me or do you feel slimey all of a sudden?

Jaehyun then gives me a somewhat, somehow sincere smile, "so. I hear you're in fashion design."

I give a soft chuckle, "yeah. That's me."

"I could tell from a mile away. Mark looks horrible next to your getup."

I look down at my sweater and ripped jeans. Mark exclaims in protest, "shut the hell up, Jae."

I give a soft smile at Jaehyun, "don't know where that comes from but thanks I guess."

Jaehyun chuckles, "I'm kidding," he eyes Mark, "I saw your Fashion Design pin on your bag when you sat down."

"Oooohhhh, haha, okay, that makes sense."

"Ya, Jeff," Sicheng calls for Jaehyun, "it's almost time."

Jaehyun turns to his friend and nods. He turns back to me and Mark, "well, it's nice to meet you. Mark won't put a sock in it even if I beg. See you around, fashionista."

He stands and slaps Mark's back, "see ya later, broski."

"Yeah, bruh," Mark replies.

Once it's just Mark and I, I snap at him and blurt out in a whisper yell, "YOU'RE ON BROSKI LEVEL WITH JUNG JAEHYUN?!"

Mark gives me a weird face, "bruh, I think he calls the principal broski, for real."

I smack Mark, making him whine, "you know what I'm talking about, Mark! And what, are you doing drugs?!?"

He shakes his head in confusion, "Wait, what!? Who the hell told you that?"

"Uhhhhh you were talking about dough and showing up later. Sounds like you owe him money for drugs, Mark."

"??? In what universe did we even mention drugs?? Does this," he slaps his face, "look like a face of a drug addict to you?"

"A gullible idiot maybe."

Mark's jaw drops, "oh wow, okay. I'm done with this conversation." He proceeds to stand attempt to walk away. I scoff, "not on my watch bitch."

Like the true idiot that he is, Mark begins to legit run away from me, like a criminal who stole my cookies. It's embarrassing that he, a man much taller than I, could not even outrun me. I suppose I should be grateful, but this just fortifies my thoughts of him being an idiot even more.

But okay... I wasn't actually expecting this... like... Mark and Jaehyun... like... actually baking bread after school with dough Mark premade at home. Also, uh, Jaehyun looks super cute in an apron that I'm having a mental breakdown. And what's new, so does Mark.

"I can't believe you thought I was a drug dealer," Jaehyun says in a soft pout as he rolls out dough on the marble counter of his friggin large kitchen in his friggin large house. Like dang, I knew he was rich, but he's like Rich™ Rich. Rich with a golden diamond encrusted Rolex watch rich that's in a glass display rich-- wtf.

Mark wheezes in his telltale high pitched laugh as he opens a pack of unsweetened chocolate pellets, "she thought dough was some sort of metaphor or something."

"Cute," they say at the same time. Mark turns to Jaehyun in slight surprise and Jaehyun turns to me. I roll my eyes, though I feel my neck burn. I avert my attention to the scene I was sketching on my pad, Jaehyun and Mark baking croissants. I clear my throat, "I'm just making use of the single braincell between us, cause if he doesn't die falling down the stairs, he's gonna pull some idiotic stuff like baking with Jung Jaehyun."

Oddly, it's Mark that reacts to that with a, "hey!"

Jaehyun rubs his chin on his shoulder, "I also can't believe you think so little of me.'

I break a sweat but decide to answer honestly, "... ... ... You have a reputation."

"Of being a fuck boy?"

Mark loudly transfers the chocolates into a metal bowl, making the two of us snap at him. Mark makes a face, "oh gosh, sorry."

Jaehyun sighs, "well. I admit I get around, but that's only because I get dumped every time."

I raise a brow.

Jaehyun purses his lips, "nah, let's not make this weird. The croissants will be flat."

"Dude," Mark turns to him, "that's literally only because you messed up the recipe."

Jaehyun grits his teeth, "no. It's because Kun's a little teacher's pet and sabotaged me so he could get the best grade."

"No, but like Kun is really nice, he helped me with the fold techinique."

Jaehyun scoffs, "He stole me vanilla extract, Mark. Who does that?!"

"No, listen, he's cool, like, for real--"

"No, you listen, he's a little shit and--"

The two begin to bicker like a married couple, and I begin to draw inspiration form the scene to design some random sketches of wedding dresses.

I look back to the two and still can't get over the fact that I learned Jaehyun was a culinary arts major with my best friend, and that I was currently in the Jung's boojie home because I thought Mark was buying drugs from him. Not what I was expecting at all my day to go like, but I'm not mad this is how it went.

"No, no, no, no," Jaehyun says. He turns to me and points, "let's just get an outside opinion. Babe, what's your favorite color?"

"BABE?!" Mark barks.

I take a moment to reply. I blink slowly, "uhh... pink?"

Jaehyun bites his lower lip and claps his flour covered hands, "Right. Pink croissants it is."

Mark shoots him a glare and turns to me, back to Jaehyun, "she has a name."

Jaehyun nods, "yeah, and she wants pink croissants."

Mark makes a face and Jaehyun examines it, chuckling under his breath. "Wah, you two are something, huh."

No one really responds.

We began to always eat lunch with Jaehyun and his friends. It's funny cause I realized Jaehyun, although I still firmly believed he was out to get nasty with every other girl he sees, he was actually just like Mark. A total loser with a love for cooking.

"Hey," Mark says with a snippy tone.

I give him a look and suddenly receive a paper bag to my face. Mark sits on his chair next to me, as per usual. I smell the thing before I realize what it is. It's a freshly baked bagel. I perk up and smile, "Aw, you baked me a bagel?"

Mark raises his upper lip, "no. Jaehyun did."

I knit my brows, "what? Why?"

Mark narrows his brows, "do you, like, like him?"

I give him a look. I take a bite of the bagel, making Mark look at me in disbelief. I answer, "You do know I only hang with him cause you do, right?"

"Then why'd you eat the bagel then?"

"Uh, a number of reasons. 1) it's a bagel, 2) free food, 3) I'm starving, 4) it smells amazingggg."

Mark does a face, "fair. I've been meaning to ask how he does his seasoning for a while now too." He releases a breath, "and anyway, I'm pretty sure he made a bagel cause I told him you liked them. Never talking about you to him anymore though."

I look at him, "why do you talk about me so much to him anyway?"

"Uh because you're amazing," Mark says instinctively.

I feel my heart skip at that. I coo and place my hands on my chest, "wait that's really sweet."

Mark looks at me. His face begin to shift, "too bad it's a lie- haha."

I give him a look and rebut, "jerk."

"Loser."

As quickly as I found out about Jaehyun being Mark's friend, that's about as quickly as I found out he didn't like hanging out with him anymore. It's kind of a shame I never got to go back to his boojie house.

There was this one encounter I had with Jaehyun though... which was a little weird, not gonna lie.

He was waiting for me outside my Tailoring class, smiling and waving when he saw me. I Reluctantly reciprocated and walked over to him.

He releases a breath, "I've been waiting for about 20 minutes for you. I didn't know when your class would end."

I raise my brows, "you could have asked?"

"Well I would need your number for that, and that would have ruined the surprise," he pulled out a brown paper bag, reminiscing the same one Mark chucked at my face.

"I made you two this time," he smiles.

I take a moment to reply, "you don't have to make me bagels, Jaehyun."

He grabs my hand, "yeah, but I want something out of ya," he places the bagels in my hand. He proceeds to lead us off and we begin to walk down the hall.

Truth be told, it's a little scary that his ulterior motive is up in the air. Jaehyun places his hands in his pockets, "I like your dress, by the way."

I smile, "thanks. I made it."

He smiles and nods, "right. That makes sense as to why it suits you well."

I can't help but blush at that, and simultaneously feel conscious when I realize a bunch of girls in my course are looking at me and Jaehyun as we strut down the hall.

"So, what did you want, Jaehyun?"

"Well, I clearly wanted to ask you out."

"..."

Jaehyun smiles and give a soft laugh, "is it so ground breaking?"

"... Uh..."

He sniggers, "hey, you can say no. I mean I hope you don't but you can." Jaehyun leans in and raises his hands, "I won't like it, but a man should take rejection from a lady well."

I turn to him as he straightens up. I turn to the bagels he made me and bring it back to him. He laughs, "no, I made them for you really. It's not poisoned, in fact it's made with love."

I visibly react to that, which makes Jaehyun wheeze. I can't help but laugh back, "that was hella tacky."

"Worth a shot though," he says. "Good luck with Mark."

I look at him with silence and he chuckles, "ya, you can't fool me."

I'm about to retort but then Jaehyun gets called by one of the frats dudes I identify as Johnny Seo. Jaehyun does a curtsy and clicks his tongue, "see ya later babez."

"You know, I would have said yes if you didn't do stuff like that."

Jaehyun purses his lips, "no you wouldn't."

I shrug, "worth a shot though."

Jaehyun places a hand on his chest, dramatically calling, "Uh, rejection hurts, man."

Yeah, I never went to Jaehyun's boojie house ever again.

Silver lining though was Mark's dorm smelled equally as nice because of all the food he cooks, although it came with a whiff of axe body spray from his roommate, Lucas. It's cool though, he was almost never around for me to smell it in its whole intensity.

"Aite," Mark calls from his side of the dorm. I perk up from the two seater dining table they had and turn to Mark who was covering the cake he was making for his finals.

"Don't, like, peek, okay. I want you to see the cake all at once and give me your honest reaction to it. Please, like, all my lives kinda depend on it."

"How many lives do you have?"

"9, I'm pretty sure."

I stand from my seat, "not you faking your life as a cat, but get it I guess."

Mark raises a hand at me as I walk over, "can you not, I'm high-key panicking right now."

"Over what? You literally made a box of donuts for your midterms and it looked better than Misty Mreme! I'm sure your cake is hot."

"It was in the minifridge for a day. I mean it barely fit cause of all of Lucas' mountain dew."

I groan, "just show me it, Mark Lee!"

Mark whined and dashes over to me, grabbing my shoulders, "okay, but like, don't be mean about it. I swear, I might cry."

I give a sound and fake cough, "it's ugly."

Mark doesn't respond to that particular jab, "I'm serioussss. Please be kind, okay?"

I look at Mark's nervous face and give a soft pout, "Markie, please, not that I think it would be ugly, but I promise you don't have to be nervous about my reaction."

He isn't soothed by that, but he does release a sigh, "okay. So for context, Mr. Moon wanted the cake to be one or two tiers, but I went with one, cause there aint no way I'm going to the other side of the campus to freeze a two tiered cake. Then, the theme was something from your childhood, so, I, uh, thought this was fitting. The exam is 60 percent decoration, 40 percent taste by the way."

Mark gives me a hesitant look, but steps way for me to see it. I then see a heart shaped, medium sized cake in my favorite pastel pink color. By the top there's a little boy on the floor playing with a toy oven set and little girl in a bumble bee dress, holding a stethoscope. At the bottom of the cake, there were jelly letters spelling out, "I like you."

I cup my cheeks at the sight of it and feel my eyes start to well at the sentiment.

Wait... was this really happening?

Mark heaves in and out, "okay, so like when Jaehyun began to like hit on you, that sucked pretty hard because he's known for getting girls and I thought maybe he'd get you too and I got panicky. Anyway, I....... have liked you since we were kids... And... I know you probably don't feel the same way but I have to try, you know.... Yolo."

My feel my tears retract from what I hear. I rub my eyes. I turn to Mark and find his nervous face. "Did you just say yolo in your confession, Mark?"

He looks like he's about to throw up.

I can't help but chuckle and pout, "dude..."

I prolong the moment. Mark gets even more nervous as he repeats softly, "dude..."

"We could have dated in grade school all this time."

It takes a moment to register in his head.

Like, a really long moment.

I sigh, "Mark! I like you too, dummy."

He freezes and blinks. His face begins to burn. He breaks into a soft smile, "nice."

I break into a laugh.

"... Uh... So... Can I like... Kiss you?"

I snort and feel my own cheeks begin to burn, "I think you should refrigerate your cake first."

Mark snaps out of this trance, "oh shoot, you-" I give him a quick peck on the lips.

He is dumbfounded.

I feel butterflies go wild in my stomach.

"I'll wait over there for when you've fixed that."

Mark watches as I walk away, "yooo.... That's not fair though."

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amyscascadingtabs · 3 years ago

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darling, you should know i’m a helicopter

a healthy dose of hurt/comfort with added baby snuggles, because i truly felt for amy in this episode. it's been a long time since i just wrote something quick but i hope you enjoy! 🥰

oh and if you want a picture this is the pajamas mac is wearing, okay cool

read on ao3

Amy doesn’t mean for it to be a breakdown.

She’s not surprised when Mac’s familiar piercing cries wake her up again a mere hour and a half after she’s fed him and put him to sleep for the night. As miraculous as Charles’ methods seemed, she still believes some babies are just fussy, and her son is one of them. It’s the only logical conclusion she’s come to after six, eight, ten, and twelve weeks all passed without any notable improvement in Mac’s ability to sleep longer stretches, and now he’s five months old and defying every single baby book and website that informs her he should be well settled into a sleeping schedule by now. He’s just fussy, or a high need baby, or whatever other term with needlessly negative connotations there is to make Amy feel like she's doing a bad job. It’s who he is and it’s what she’s used to, so she just scoots to the edge of the bed and picks him up from his travel cot in her still hurting arms before he can wake up the rest of the house.

On another night, she might have tried to walk around with him first, play some white noise or bounce on the yoga ball with him, but she’s tired and dejected and scared to wake up anyone else, so she goes for the easy option. The buttons of her pink striped pajama shirt are easily accessible for this exact purpose, and resting Mac’s head in the crook of her right arm, she gently guides him to her chest and exhales in relief as the crying comes to a stop. At least this, she can do, and the idiots who write advice pages about how you shouldn’t get your baby used to falling asleep at the breast have probably never even met a real baby.

She leans back against the pillows when she’s sure Mac’s found a good latch and she can hear his content grunts and swallows. His hand has found a steady grip on her newly washed hair, probably getting drool in it again, but she can’t be bothered to try and unclench his little iron fist when he’s finally happy. Watching his perfect chubby cheeks as they hollow and fill, stroking the soft baby curls that are getting lighter and more like Jake’s every day, Amy’s overcome with another wave of that crazy all-consuming love that keeps surprising her, and then she’s the one who can’t stop her tears from falling.

The only thing she ever wants is to keep him safe. In a world of pandemics and injustice, where the news gives her anxiety attacks more days than not and everything she thought she knew keeps changing, at least she can make sure Mac has his every need attended to. It’s been her life while staying home for the past five months, and she likes to think she’s handled it well all things considered, but after Charles’ nip tips and three-hour imprisonment of her child, Amy can’t help but feel like she’s done it all wrong.

Her son is at his happiest when she can’t bother him. Once again, her high-strungness and failure to just be chill have proved her unfit for motherhood. She’s too anxious, too stressed, too overprotective, and the baby in her arms looking up at her with the warmest, roundest brown eyes she’s ever known is seriously unlucky and he doesn’t even know it.

She doesn’t know where the negative thoughts are coming from, but sometimes breastfeeding has this effect on her – another sign, the self-hating voice in her head whispers – and it’s been an exhausting day, so she lets the tears come and hopes Jake is too deeply asleep to notice her mini-breakdown. Why is this so hard for her, and why can’t she just relax? How come Mac seems to be the only child she’s heard of whose sleeping habits at home have gotten worse and not better after his first few weeks at daycare, and how come even the most gentle of sleep training methods break her heart when Mac cries like he’s been abandoned?

She’s wiping her tears with her free hand before wiping Mac’s cheeks with the muslin blanket when Jake begins to stir next to her, and even that makes her feel guilty, because he’s had a long day, too. He rubs his hand against her upper arm as if sensing that something’s off, yawning as he pushes himself up into a half-sitting position.

“Hey,” he mumbles in his softest sleepy voice, a worried crease appearing on his forehead. “Are you okay, Ames?”

“Yeah,” she tries, but her voice breaks, so she shakes her head. Mac is starting to pull away, so she unlatches him and sighs when she realizes that the shirt she’d packed clean already has milk stains on it. She rests him upright with his head on her shoulder instead, patting him on the back and trying to stop the tears that won't stop coming.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me. Is it Charles again? Because I really think he felt bad, but I’m happy to tell him off again if you want me to.”

“It's not Charles.” Amy sighs. “Well, it kind of is, but it's more that... I can't believe the best Mac has ever slept was when I wasn't even there. I try everything and nothing works, and Charles straight-up locks him in a room, and that makes him fall asleep? It feels like more proof I wasn't meant to do this,” she says, and she can see him immediately opening his mouth to protest. “Like even Charles is a more natural mom than I am.”

Mac makes a hiccuping noise, spitting up a little bit of milk on the muslin blanket Amy put on her shoulder. Jake wipes it away before laying an arm around them, half-hugging them both.

“No offense, but that's the worst lie I’ve heard today, and that's including the stuff Terry said about me.” He strokes Mac’s back through the blue pajamas with little moons and clouds with faces as he begins to whimper again. “You're the best mom to him ever, Ames. You do everything for him. You literally kicked down a door to get to him today. Why do you think someone would be better?”

Amy sighs as she adjusts Mac in her arms, swaying him slightly and being surprised when it actually makes him go quiet. He has his eyes closed, fists up in front of his face, and just the thought that she could be doing something wrong by him makes her heart shatter.

“Because I try too hard,” she whispers, just loud enough for Jake to hear. “When he was locked in by Charles, I couldn't check on him, and it was the best nap he's ever had. All because I worry too much about him. Because I don't know what else to do. I want to keep him safe, but instead I’m somehow not doing enough and doing too much at once.”

She tickles that adorable baby chin with her index finger. Mac grips it, bringing it to his mouth with determination, and it makes both parents laugh. Why he likes this but rejects every single kind of pacifier Buy Buy Baby had to offer, she’ll never understand.

“He knows you love him,” Jake says, as if that was an obvious fact. He likes to claim he can read Mac’s mind about these things, a skill which Amy thinks would have been a lot more useful if it had also worked to figure out what it is their son needs during their worst nights of crying. It's what she needed to hear right now, though, and she leans her head on his shoulder as a silent thank you. “And just because he might be a little introverted sometimes doesn't mean he doesn't love you like crazy, too. I mean, that's what you tell me when I interrupt you when you're reading, right?”

She smiles. “I guess.”

“I know you worry,” he continues. “But just because Mac likes his peace and quiet sometimes doesn’t mean you’re doing a bad job. Maybe we could even let him start sleeping in his nursery at night, you know, just see what happens?”

Just the mention of not having her son within arm’s length at night makes Amy freeze and a million nightmare scenarios flash through her head, and Jake laughs a little as he feels her shoulders tense. “Okay, I can tell that was too big of a step and you’re freaking out, so maybe not. But one day?”

“We’ll talk about it later,” she decides, carefully trying to pull her finger out of her son’s mouth. “Thanks, babe. I just really want to go back to sleep.”

Mac’s eyes are fluttering, a telltale sign that he’s starting to fight his sleep, stretching his legs and letting out the most adorable of baby-sighs. Jake runs his thumb over his son’s forehead and nose in an attempt to make him relax, and shakes his head as Mac only forces his eyes open again.

“He’s lucky he’s so cute, isn’t he?”

“He’s lucky we love him,” Amy mumbles, trying and failing to stifle a yawn.

“Yeah. I mean, who needs a full night’s sleep anyway, right?” Jake says, and Amy just stares at him with a blank expression.

“I know you’re joking, but I would almost leave him in Charles’ hands for a night again if it meant I got a four-hour stretch, and that’s saying something.”

“Yeah.” Jake grimaces. “I shouldn’t have said that. Now I’m kind of thinking about it too.”

Thinking that maybe Mac will repeat his magical streak of at least managing to fall asleep on his own, Amy tries to put him down in the cot again, but she’s barely moved before he lets out another unhappy cry. She lifts him upright against her chest again, biting her lip and trying not to feel defeated as she starts the hushing and rocking all over again.

“Hey, I can take him,” Jake says, reaching for him. “You need to sleep so you can stop crazy-spiraling, and I’ve barely held him all day. I’ll walk around with him outside for a while, that might do it.”

It’s not the typical declarations of love they used to share, but as he puts the muslin blanket on his shoulder before taking Mac and getting out of bed with him, Amy’s confident that she’s never loved her husband more. This, right here, watching him with sleep-tousled curls in just his t-shirt and pajama pants as he adjusts his son and bounces him slightly in his arms while the crying turns into a more gentle fussing, is far hotter than any sex dream about Sanjay Gupta could ever be.

#my writing #b99 #peraltiago #b99 fic #b99 fanfiction #jake x amy fanfiction #here it is i hope you enjoy!!!

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translations-by-aiimee · 4 years ago

Text

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 20

Original Title: 二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 20 - This Venerable One Will Tell You a Story (Part 2)

Early the next morning, the members of the Chen family walked back from their relatives and saw that the orange tree in their courtyard had fallen down and the oranges were spread all over the ground. There weren't many other residents around here. They were only close with the Luo family. When they thought of how Luo Xianxian drooled over those oranges every day, the Chen family were sure——

The oranges must have been stolen by that bastard child, Luo Xianxian!

Not only did she steal them but she got jealous and chopped down their orange tree!

The Chen family immediately went to Luo Shusheng to complain. Luo Shusheng couldn't bear such humiliation. He immediately called his daughter over and asked her angrily if she stole the oranges.

Luo Xianxian cried and said no.

He asked if she had cut the tree down.

Again, Luo Xianxian said no.

He asked her if she had eaten the oranges.

Luo Xianxian couldn't lie so she had to admit that she did.

Before she could explain, her furious father ordered her to kneel down. She was beaten with a ruler in front of the Chen family. While he beat her, he said: "Raising a daughter is much worse than raising a sun! At such a young age, how could you do such a thing? Shame on you! You disgraced your father! As punishment, you won't have anything to eat today and you'll face the wall for three days. Think about your mistakes and repent--"

"Dad, it wasn't me! It really wasn't me!"

"How dare you talk back to me!"

No one believed her. Although the Lower Cultivation World was in chaos Caidie Town was an exception. The town had always been simple and honest, no one locked their door. What was she supposed to say; that a bloody lunatic ran in in the middle of the night? Who would believe it?

Luo Xianxian's small hands were split open from the beating.

The members of the Chen family looked at her coldly. Only the oldest boy among them, pulling at the corner of his mother's clothes, hesitated to speak.

His mother ignored him and there was nothing he could do about it. The boy's small face scrunched up. He couldn't bear it, and he stood off to the side, unwilling to look anymore.

At night, Luo Xianxian didn't dare go back to her room, squatting under the eaves of her house, standing pitifully.

Her father was a scholar and couldn't tolerate stealing. Moreover, he had a rotten and sour aura, and he was stubborn, unwilling to listen to explanations.

Luo Xianxian's head was dizzy after a day with no food. Suddenly someone whispered to her: "Miss Luo."

Luo Xianxian turned his head and saw a well-groomed head protruding from the edge of the dirt wall. It was Chen Bohuan, the eldest son of the Chen family who tried to help her plead her case earlier.

Chen Bohuan did a couple checks over the dirt wall to make sure no one was watching. He was carrying a hot steamed bun in his arms, and without saying a word, he shoved it into her hand.

"I know you've been standing by the wall all day and haven't eaten anything. Here's a steamed bun. Hurry up and eat it."

"I..." Luo Xianxian had always been shy. She had lived here for several months and had never spoken to her neighbour's son. Now, they were so close together that she inadvertently took a few steps back and banged her head against the wall. Still, she stammered out: "I couldn't. . . Dad won't let me. . . He said. . ."

She was incoherent and couldn't even form a complete sentence.

Chen Bohuan said: "Oh, your father's watching you at all times? What do you care what he's doing? If you're hungry, don't starve yourself. Eat it. If you don't, it'll get cold."

The steamed bun was soft and white, looking so enticing, steam rising from it.

Luo Xianxian looked down and stared for a while, taking a large gulp.

She was so hungry, too. Regardless of whether she was supposed to be a gentleman or not, she grabbed the steamed bun and inhaled it, gobbling it up in no time.

After eating it, she raised her round eyes and rushed to explain to Chen Bohuan: "I didn't cut down the orange tree, and I try to steal any."

Chen Bohuan was taken aback, and slowly smiled: "Okay."

"But they don't believe me. . ." With such an emotional gaze, Luo Xianxian's heart slowly opened, her anger melting away like snow. She wailed, her mouth wide open. She wiped her tears and wept loudly: "None of them believe me. . . I didn't steal. . . I didn't. . ."

Chen Bohuan patted her back: "I know you didn't steal it. Like come on, you stand under the tree and stare at it every day yet you never took an orange. You would've stolen some a long time ago. . ."

"I didn't do it! I didn't do it!" Her crying became more fierce, tears and snot rolling on her face.

Chen Bohuan consoled her: "You didn't do it, you didn't do it."

The two children got to know each other very well.

Later, there was a murder in a neighbouring village. A few nights ago, a bandit covered in blood entered a family's home and wanted to borrow the family's bedroom to sleep. When the man did not agree, the bandit stabbed the family to death. Then, in the room full of corpses, he slept peacefully and leisurely left the next day during the daylight. He left and even left a message written in blood on the wall. He wrote out a large message, detailing everything he had done to make sure the world knew that an evil individual like him existed.

This tragedy immediately spread like wildfire, and soon reached Caidie Town. That was the night Luo Xianxian admitted she had met "Mr. Madman".

Luo Shusheng and the Chen family were speechless.

After the misunderstanding was cleared up, the two families were in much closer contact. The Chen family saw that Luo Xianxian was cute hardworking little beauty. They thought that, based on their current situation, it would be difficult to find a daughter-in-law, so they quickly arranged the marriage of Chen Bohuan and Luo Xianxian. Once they reached adulthood, they would officially be wed.

When Luo Shusheng saw his daughter and Chen Bohuan were good childhood friends, so he readily agreed.

As the days passed, if it weren't for Luo Shusheng's love of elegance and fragrance, then the Chen and Luo families would live lives of poverty and tranquillity as they had originally expected.

Unfortunately, Luo Shusheng accidentally made the "Hundred Butterfly Fragrance Powder".

Although the scent of the powder was nothing special and it wasn't much different from the typical powders in town, it had a benefit that ordinary powders didn't——

It could last for a hundred days with a neverending afterglow.

Hundred Butterfly Fragrance Powder lasted for a long time and it didn't wear off easily. It was exactly what everyday people were looking for in terms of good quality and low price.

Luo Shusheng, Mr. "Everything is inferior; the only excellence is in academia." Even though he made the powder, he didn't want to sell it, thinking that he "would lose his identity."

If he didn't sell it, naturally others will worry about it.

Madam Chen repeatedly tried to get the recipe out of him and urged Luo Shusheng to open a shop, but she was always rejected. After going back and forth, Madam Chen got embarrassed, so she stopped bringing it up, but she silently always kept it in mind.

The year Luo Xianxian reached adulthood, the opportunity came. Luo Shusheng's sickly body had contracted tuberculosis. He suffered for a few days then died. As Luo Xianxian's in-laws, even though she wasn't officially their daughter-in-law yet, they were still close friends, so they got busy helping her arrange the funeral.

Luo Xianxian burst into tears of gratitude. What she didn't know was that Madam Chen had a plan to quietly walk away with the secret powder recipe while she packed up Luo Shusheng's things.

That night, Madam Chen, under the light of a soybean oil lamp, was full of excitement, ready to read the recipe. After only one glance, she was at a loss.

Luo Shusheng's words danced across the page, calligraphy that typically would be considered elegant and unrestrained. She stared at it for a long time, but she couldn't understand half of the words.

She had no choice but to return the recipe quietly.

A few months later, after Luo Xianxian had a chance to grieve, she invited the girl over to their house for dinner and "inadvertently" mentioned the Hundred Butterfly Fragrance Powder in a passing conversation.

Luo Xianxian thought to herself there was no point in keeping the recipe at home. Her mother-in-law treated herself so well. If she wanted it, she'd give it to her.

So she found it her father's things and helped Madam Chen to distinguish the individual characters and sort out the precise recipe.

Madam Chen was ecstatic. When she got the recipe, she and her husband opened a perfume shop together.

Of course, she was still very fond of her gentle and sensible prospective daughter-in-law. The more Luo Xianxian grew, the more beautiful she became. Although her family was unfortunate, her looks were some of the best in town and many young people in the town began to pay attention to her.

A long night is filled with dreams*, Madam Chen thought to herself. They'd need to hurry and secure the marriage.

*(T/N: 夜长梦多 - means that the longer something is put off, the more likely something will happen before you're able to do it)

However, Luo Xianxian just lost his father. According to the custom of Caidie Town, she couldn't get married for three years after the death of her parent.

How could Madam Chen wait for three years? She deliberated and thought of a way--

One day, Luo Xianxian was braiding the hair of the Chen's family young daughter. She had a very good relationship with the youngest Chen daughter. Luo Xianxian pulled the hair over and under and the braid trailed down her back.

Madam Chen walked into the courtyard and called Luo Xianxian to the inner hall. She said to her: "Xianxian, you and Bohuan were childhood sweethearts and had a marriage arranged. Now that your father is gone, you must be lonely. It can't be easy living by yourself. You should be getting married this year. But we have the three-year mourning period, so you can't get married, so I got thinking: if you wait for three years, how old are you going to be?

Luo Xianxian lowered her head. She didn't say anything but she was clever and could guess what Madam Chen was insinuating. Her cheeks grew slightly red.

Sure enough, Madam Chen went on to say:

"Living alone must be so difficult and tiring. How about this - you two get married behind closed doors. No one needs to know. If anyone asks, just say that you're living with your auntie to help care for her and preparing to be her daughter-in-law. This will not only complete the wedding rituals without the worry of being criticized, but also give your father some peace in the underworld. After the three-year period is up, we'll have a beautiful proper wedding for you two, alright?"

Her remarks sounded like she cared about Luo Xianxian. Luo Xianxian was a person who always saw the best in others and would never think badly about someone else so she agreed.

Later, the Chen family made a fortune by selling the Hundred Butterfly Fragrance Powder. They moved out of their old house, bought a large piece of land in the town, built a mansion on it, and became a powerful family.

Luo Xianxian had become a shadow among the many figures of the large household, an infrequent presence.

People in the town thought that Luo Xianxian had been taken in by Madam Chen, so she lived in the Chen house. They didn't know that she was actually married to Chen Bohuan.

Although it wasn't perfect, Luo Xianxian thought that her mother-in-law was doing this for her own good so that people didn't gossip, so she didn't complain. In addition, Chen Bohuan was dear to her, the couple living a sweet and fulfilling life. They only need to wait for the three-year period to pass then everything would return to normal.

But Luo Xianxian didn't wait for the day of the official wedding.

The Chen family business was growing larger and larger. In addition, Chen Bohuan was handsome. Not just in Caidie Town but even the daughters of the big families in the surrounding towns had begun to play with the idea of marrying Young Master Chen. With this development, Madam Chen's mind was racing.

Back then, she decided to secure Luo Xianxian because she thought she wouldn't be able to find a good daughter-in-law when they were nothing but a farming family.

Who would have thought that the heavens would bless the Chen family and allow them to soar into high society? Now, when she looked back at Luo Xianxian, she felt that the girl was not good-looking enough and she wasn't intelligent enough. Like her dead father, she was unpleasant to look at.

She regretted it a bit.

The appearance of Yao Qianjin turned her "a bit" into "a lot".

Yao Qianjin is the daughter of the county magistrate. She loved men in positions. One day she returned from hunting on a horse. She passed by an incense shop and picked out a few fragrance powders. It didn't matter what fragrances she picked out, but she caught a glimpse of the busy handsome young man in the hall.

The gentleman was no other than Luo Xianxian's husband, Chen Bohuan.

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#2ha novel #2ha translation #2ha #the husky and his white cat shizun translation #the husky and his white cat shizun #english translation #chinese bl #chinese novel #bl novel #danmei novel #danmei #yaoi novel #yaoi #mo ran #chu wanning #ranwan

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